#i am aware that there is quite possibly nothing else out there with some of these tags. but we can change that.
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Queerplatonic Riddler x Reader fanfic
Disclaimers:
I am not a good writer. I am simply making this because I am an aroace who loves the Riddler and and desperate for fanfiction that isn't romantic or sexual and I want it to exist in the world.
This is a bit out of character because I am simply not smart enough to write a genius and I am also not very good at riddles.
Some of it is very contrived, in particular the "worldbuilding" had to be crammed into fitting a pattern for reasons, so it is very janky.
Allos are allowed to interact but PLEASE BE MINDFUL THAT THIS ISN'T FOR YOU.
Also I'm English so there may be a couple of covert language differences if you're American (eg: saw a post where apparently in the US "quite" means very whereas here it's much less intense than that)
Rating: Probably teen
Warnings:
Swearing (S and F word), whump (hurt reader), violence and injury, implied ableism, near-death experiences, robberies and hostage situations (not very dangerous)
Reader insert info:
Oriented aroace, quoiromantic, autistic (hyperfixating on Riddler)
Word count: 5022
Please don't give me loads of criticism I'm not releasing this to improve at writing I'm releasing this because there's no representation.
You sit in your room, reading the Gotham Gazette. A small smile appears on your face; the news keeps talking about the new crime spree, courtesy of the Riddler. You’re lying on your green bedcovers, kicking your feet and giggling. It is quite sad that his latest bank robberies are going to severely affect the economy, but… look at him. He looks so happy in the CCTV footage. His smile is the most precious thing you’ve ever seen. You love the newspaper, as long as you don’t read the articles. There’s a lot of speculation about his mental state, and, while you do agree that his mental state is probably not great, some of the speculation… it wouldn’t feel out of place on an Autism Speaks advert. You use permanent marker and doodle question marks to hide the more offensive articles. With everything that’s left, you cut it out, glaring at the scissors that are leaving jagged edges even though it is probably just a skill issue. You use Blu Tack to stick it onto the board with all of the other articles and pictures, and pick up those which fell off. Five crimes so far. You scan the articles. The names of the locations… there must be something… Classy and Elegant, a store for wedding clothes, with lots of money… House-Dealing Special Princesses, the estate agents for posh people… River Bank Tower, a tower that was a historic location for money laundering and was converted into a tourist attraction… Worshipping Mr Batman, a Batman fan club with a large following, as well as founders who got very rich… and Rose Petal Association, a very wealthy gardeners’ club. The letters… they feel… familiar…
You quickly open Wikipedia. Hands shaking – you don’t know if it’s from nerves or excitement – you search for Elgar’s Enigma Variations. Your eyes widen. Classy and Elegant – C.A.E! House-Dealing Special Princesses – H.D.S-P! R.B.T! W.M.B! R.P.A! His crimes are all after Elgar’s Enigma variations! You’re stimming, at having solved this riddle. But where will he strike next? The next piece… Ysobel…
You open Google Maps. This isn’t simple initials, the piece is named after a full name… You search around, trying to find something that fits Ysobel…
It’s the next day. As usual, it is raining. You’re carrying a green umbrella, and hoping that, if he does show up, he won’t realise that you carved the handle into the shape of a question mark. Anxiety fills you – the establishment which should be the next target, is very… suspicious. Why So Bell, a supposed bell manufacturer which everybody knows is really a front for one of the Joker gangs’ hideouts. You glance around, nervously. There are legitimate shops next door, it should be safe, it should be safe…
You’re hiding in a bush, shaking. It hurts, there are probably lots of bugs, but… you can’t just loiter in the open next to a Joker-affiliated operation, but… you have to see the Riddler’s next crime. Your umbrella is hidden with you in the bush. You’re getting uncomfortably wet. You don’t think your glasses will ever recover from this experience. Half an hour passes, and you watch as people come and go from the buildings. An obvious gang member leaves Why So Bell. You are shaking in the bush as she walks towards you. Does she see you? She’s coming closer. Closer. Closer.
She yanks you out by the tip of your umbrella. You look up at her sheepishly, trembling. She responds by punching you in the face.
You wake up, and your heart leaps as you see your favourite colour, green. Your heart is then filled with terror. The green isn’t from your many pictures of the Riddler, the green is from a massive vat of acid, and you’re dangling right over it.
“Who the fuck d’you work for?!” the gang member asks.
“N-N-NO-ONE! I’M N-NOT A GANG MEMBER! PLEASE! TH-THERE’S BEEN A TERRIBLE MISUNDERSTANDING!!” you squeak, terrified. The gang members – three of them – laugh at you.
“Why were you hiding in that bush?!” a Joker goon shouts at you, as you feel yourself being lowered towards the acid, “You’re a spy, aren’t ya?!”
“PLEASE! PLEASE! I W-WASN’T SPYING! PLEASE! I W-WAS… I WAS JUST HIDING IN THE BUSH, W-W-WAITING FOR SOMEONE!!”
“Yer lying!”
Your vision is being consumed by green, and not in the usual Riddler hyperfixation way, but in the way that you are about to die. You are whimpering, trying desperately to stammer out an explanation, but there is no way to explain anything in a way that does not make you look like an alloromantic stalker…
Suddenly, the power cuts out. You scream, thinking that this the end. The Joker goons are shouting, confused. There are sounds of a scuffle, and one of their panicked yelling is cut short. The other two are fighting something.
“B-Batman?” you shriek, terrified. Every time the Riddler goes to Arkham, he seems to come back worse. If Batman is here, he will surely arrest the Riddler and send him to Arkham yet again. The sounds of the scuffle stop. You wait, hyperventilating. This is very bad, as you are starting to breathe in the fumes of the acid. It’s rather funny that you solved the riddle, and now Batman came here to save you but will surely arrest the Riddler. You can’t help but laugh at the fact that you solved it for Batman, it’s so funny, he’s going to rot in Arkham! Ha! You’re being lifted up, taken away from the green, just like how your hopes of ever seeing the silly green man have gone away! Now you’re being picked up! It’s funny, Batman’s arms seem nowhere near as muscular as they should be! Isn’t it funny that you’re still in the dark, the Dark Knight hasn’t turned the light on, because dark! Ha! Get it?
“Ha… I’ve already done the work, Batman!” you laugh.
“Don’t compare me to that pathetic man,” your saviour replies. It’s hilarious, you’re such an idiot, you’re stupid! You’re a fool! You’re just as pathetic as Batman! What even is a Bat Man meant to be, anyway? And now, this man is holding you! From what you can see, the glow of the acid is turning his outfit green! Oh, what’s that silly symbol on his outfit?! Haha! The little question marks in your brain, and now there’s a big one on this man’s spandex! Hahaha! You’re an idiot! An idiot who didn’t realise you finally got to meet your hero! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! He thinks you’re so stupid! He can hear you mumbling about how stupid you are, you’re really not helping things, this is so funny, he’s going to hate you! And now, everything’s going dark like your future! Ha! Ha… Ha… Ha…………..
You’re in a hospital bed. Next to you is your umbrella.
“You’re awake,” the nurse says, looking at you with concern.
“Wh… what happened..?”
“Someone found a note leading to you. You were passed out… Joker chemicals…”
Your eyes widen. “J-Joker?! Is… are there gonna be lasting effects?!”
“You might be more prone to fits of laughter, but that’s all.”
In the evening, you’re released from the hospital. You walk home, holding your umbrella. You feel an irregularity on the handle, and carefully take your finger away from it. Your heart leaps; there, on the handle… a small question mark, engraved into the wood. You stand there for a little while, shaking, your mouth open in what could be a smile. What could this mean?
You return home, giggling. You walked past Troyte Bank on the way, Troyte being the next piece in the Enigma variations. There also seems to be a pattern to the timing of the robberies – the next is going to be at some point between 1 and 1:30. You’re shaking. You could go to the bank at 1. You… you could see him… you could be in the bank while it’s being robbed… a bank robbery would be very scary, but you could see him! Being an innocent bystander in one of the Riddler’s very own crimes… the thought makes you giddy with excitement. You’re giggling again; the exposure to the fumes of the Joker chemical has evidently given you this new habit. You sound like a teenage girl talking with friends about a cute boy. Your laughter turns more nervous. What will people think when they hear your giggling? They’ll think you’re weird…
They already do, though…
It’s 1PM. You step into the bank from the rain of Gotham, clutching your umbrella, biting your lip to stop yourself from giggling. You loiter near the side, doing your best to not look suspicious, waiting for him…
After three minutes, the door opens, and five goons holding machine guns enter the building, along with him. The Riddler, wearing his iconic green spandex, with the purple belt, and the large black question mark on the front. There are little question marks in lines down the sides of the arms and legs. He’s wearing his mask and gloves, of matching shades of purple. The spandex… doesn’t leave much to the imagination. You can tell that he is quite muscular, although not nearly as muscular as people renowned for strength, such as Batman. “I’m tough and elastic, but you have left! O! What am I? A robbery!” he exclaims, gleefully. You can’t help but smile at his wide grin. He twirls his cane as the gunmen usher everyone in the bank to the side. The gunmen tell everyone to kneel, and you kneel down, clutching your umbrella. An old man grunts from having to kneel. The Riddler looks at the group.
“Tell you what. Anyone who can answer any riddles will be allowed to stand up!” he says, taking out some cards from within his belt and giving them to one of his goons, whispering instructions for the order they get distributed in. He and two of the goons walk into the vault, and are presumably taking the loot, while one of the goons points his gun at the bank staff, one points his gun at the group, and the last one is handing out the riddles. You receive your card with the riddle on it. You read the riddle: What can be gentle as the wind, or as all-consuming as fire, as strong as a mountain, as beautiful as a sapphire?
“Is it love?” you ask shyly, before he has even finished handing out the riddles. He walks over to you, and reads the riddle. After a little pause, he grunts and nods, and walks off. You start to stand up, and glance at the old man next to you who is struggling. “The answer’s water,” you murmur in his ear. He rereads the riddle, and then gives his answer to the goon, who has now finished handing out the riddles. He is allowed to stand, and you wait for the goons to glance away, then give another person an answer.
“My, my, you’re very good at solving other peoples’ riddles, aren’t you?” a soft voice says in your ear. You squeak. It’s him. You can feel yourself trembling nervously, he’s so close, he has a smirk on his face. The Riddler gives you a wink, and moves away. He leaves with the goons and the loot he has stolen.
That night, you go home, shaking. You’re filled with emotions, and they’re scaring you. You… you think you might… love him… you’re not sure what kind of attraction you feel… and it’s scary. He means a lot to you, and you want him to know how you feel, but you don’t even really know how you feel. You go and print out the page for Oriented Aroace on the LGBTQIA Wiki. You get out a pen and paper, and start making a diagram, with some bars, each corresponding to a different type of attraction, the main ones you can think of. For the bar about sexual attraction, you can easily put NO in capital letters. For sensual attraction, you fill it quite high. You pause, and decide to write definitions for the types of attraction. You reach romantic attraction, and hesitate. What is romantic attraction? Romance is entirely a social construct… how does one define it? After a minute of trying to think, you just fill it with question marks and print out the wiki page for quoiromantic. You start writing: “I don’t know what romantic attraction is meant to feel like. I don’t feel it usually, but you make me feel something I’ve never felt before, and I can’t tell if it’s a cross between hyperfixation and alterous attraction, or if this is what romance feels like.” You glare at the paper. You genuinely can’t tell if it’s you finally feeling romantic attraction for one person, or if it’s internalised amatonormativity and you’re just hyperfixating and have tertiary attractions. All you know is… that you love him…
The next day – another rainy one - is here. You’re loitering inside Without Nines, a casino, when he comes in, with several gunmen. There are also two women, dressed in spandex with question marks – Query and Echo. The Riddler is wearing a very dapper green suit with black question marks, along with a purple and blue waistcoat with question mark shapes. His light green tie is embroidered with purple question marks, and he wears a green bowler hat with a purple ribbon and a black question mark, the colours matching the rest of his outfit. His shirt is black, and he wears purple gloves and his purple mask. A little smile plays upon his face as everyone in the casino immediately panics, at his mercy. Guards immediately try to fight him, but the gunmen fire some warning shots.
“Ah ah ah! I’m going to take a hostage! And if you don’t let me take the money, you’ll find yourselves riddled with bullets!” he says, smiling smugly. Your heart leaps as he starts walking straight towards you. You let out a little squeak as he hooks his cane around your arm, and pulls you towards him. You’re shaking, and do a little giggle, nervous. This is it. He’s noticed you. He’s taken you hostage. And all you can do is giggle like a lunatic. The Riddler is giggling slightly, as he unhooks his cane from your arm, and puts his arm around your shoulders, pointing the cane under your throat threateningly. You can feel the cold metal against your neck. With some of his goons following, he walks through the casino, holding you close to him, letting everyone know that he could kill you if they don’t let him rob the place. And yet, he gives you a gentle squeeze, and something tells you that he isn’t going to hurt you. Query and Echo force a staff member to open the vault.
He lets out a giggle as the group walk into the vault. You let out a little gasp as you see how much money there is. The Riddler chuckles.
“Impressed?” he says in your ear with a low voice. He walks in front of you, and looks at your awestruck face. You’re trembling, he’s looking at you, all you can do is stare at the money like an idiot. He giggles. “Alright, then. Looting this place might take a while, so we may as well get comfortable,” he says, a smile on his lips. The regular gunmen start taking the money, while Query and Echo stay on guard at the vault’s entrance. The Riddler puts his hand on your shoulder and pushes down to make you sit on the floor. You let out a little giggle. He sits down, facing you, and holds his cane, resting it against your neck, presumably to establish some threat. “Well, then. Riddle me this. Why hasn’t Batman caught me yet?” he asks. You squeak delightedly when he says it. He laughs a little, a laugh that makes your heart feel so light. He looks happy. “Go on. I’ve seen you three times, now. You’ve solved my riddle…” he says, leaning in. “Not just anyone can do that.” You start giggling uncontrollably. You feel light. He leans back a bit, waiting for you to regain your composure. “Are you always this giggly? Is it from the Joker chemicals? Or… maybe… just maybe… is it only when you see me?” he asks, winking. You giggle more.
“Ha! Ha! Hahahahaha! It’s J-J-Joker… ha! Joker chemicals! Ha ha!” you laugh. He looks at you, sympathetic, and puts a hand on your shoulder. Your giggling gets worse, and you feel yourself blushing, and he immediately pulls his hand away. He waits quietly for you to calm down, as his men continue emptying the vault. He pulls you to your feet, and whispers into your ear.
“I only have two more robberies in this plan. That’s the… initial… idea…” he whispers. He’s so close to you, you can feel his breath on your ear. He gives a flamboyant twirl of his cane, and holds you menacingly again, putting his cane back to your throat. “Well then, my little hostage, it’s soon time for me to set you free,” he says, giving his handsome smile. You giggle, and blush slightly. You’re looking up at him, and he looks down at you. He lets out a little laugh. “You’re rather adorable,” he says. You squeak, and blush much more. He giggles. “Well, I’ll give you some time to regain your composure, haha,” he says, backing away slightly. You take deep breaths, and eventually calm down. He holds you again, and the group leaves the vault. He places you back with the other civilians, and moves away, his demeanour much more menacing…
“Alright! And, just to seal this wondrous little robbery, everyone will give me one of their valuables!” he says, laughing. He looks so happy… you can’t help but smile… He takes peoples’ necklaces as they tremble, a pair of earrings, some fancy brooches… he reaches you, and smiles. You already know what he wants, and you shyly hold the umbrella. Your eyes meet as he wraps his hand around the handle, your grip lingering. He takes it from you, giggling, and continues taking other peoples’ valuables.
The next day, you’re walking through the streets of Gotham, giggling excitedly. Today is going to be the day you come out to him. You spent yesterday evening getting ready to tell him, getting ready to speak. You’ve simplified your explanation considerably. You can’t help but giggle at the fact that you’re going to see him, and tell him everything… maybe… maybe he was impressed by your ability to predict his crimes when even Batman couldn’t…
“Hey, what’s that dumb smile on your face for?!” a menacing voice says. A gang of thugs surrounds you. You go pale. “Well? Why you giggling? You think you’re the Joker or some shit?!” he shouts. You look around, desperate for help. Citizens are walking away, only glancing for some spectacle. A furtive woman in a green coat opens her phone and points it at you – is she going to record this?!
“Uh, heehee, I, I d-don’t wanna f-fight… it’s… ha… I inhaled some Joker fumes… p-please… haha… don’t h-hurt me…”
“You won’t be smiling when we’re done with you!” a thug says, elbowing you in the abdomen and sending you staggering back. Tears are streaming down your face. You’re missing the Riddler’s robbery, surely he’ll think you’re an idiot, he’s going to hate you- you’re punched in the face, and sobbing. They keep punching you, keep kicking you, keep kicking you. Whack. Whack. Whack. It hurts. You feebly try to hold up your arms to block their blows, but they easily shatter your defences. You’re bleeding now. It hurts so much. They kick your legs, and you crash down to the ground, crying. They get their weapons out… one of them has a hammer… You can hear the crunch of your bones as your legs shatter. You can only whimper as one gets out her knife, and stabs you in the abdomen. You’re screaming.
“PLEASE STOP! I D-D-DIDN’T DO ANYTHING TO YOU!!” you cry as they keep hitting you. Your vision goes black. This is it, you’re going to die…
“LEAVE THEM ALONE!” a voice shouts. They stop, tense. Your head is bleeding, you can’t think straight, but… it sounds… familiar…
Your vision is lit up with blue, as something fires electricity at the thugs. They shriek, and run away, leaving you. There are murmurs among the onlookers. You can feel hands slide underneath your body, as your saviour picks you up. He’s walking quickly.
“Hey… hey… please… please talk to me…” he says. Your vision is starting to return, and you can see the Riddler, tears streaming down his face.
“Sorry…” you say weakly.
“It’s alright, it’s alright, none of this is your fault, please don’t apologise for anything, you will be safe,” he says, voice cracking.
“I w-was gonna be there… I… I promise I’m not stupid…”
“Oh… oh, baby… I already know you’re not stupid. Shh… everything’s going to be okay…” he says, holding you close as he walks. He is thinking. “Alright… you need me on the fairway, you need me for luck, but when you have me you’re well and truly fucked, what am I?”
“Uh… uh… uh… a… a stroke?” you answer. He strokes your hair with his soft hands. He’s wearing a green suit, this time with a purple shirt that’s only buttoned 2/3 of the way, showing off his chest and collarbones. His hat is at a jaunty – no, messy – angle, and his mask is streaked with tears.
He enters a building. You can’t read the sign, but you can tell the initials are E.D.U. It’s dark, this building must be a repurposed warehouse. It’s quiet, except for your whimpering, and his heavy breathing, and quick footsteps. He continues stroking your hair, his hands shaking. He sets you down, and rolls up your shirt, and you can hear his sharp intake of breath.
“Uh… okay… this looks bad… I’m going to have to stitch your wound…” he says. You shudder, and he picks you up. “It’s going to be okay… I promise.” He rushes into the bathroom, lays you into the bathtub and turns the tap on, rinsing the wound under the water. He gives your hair a pat, and starts preparing his first aid equipment, sterilising a needle and thread. He holds your hand, and cleans your wound as you whimper. He takes you out of the bathtub, and lays you down, using a towel to dry you. “Listen, you’ll be okay, I promise,” he says. He starts rubbing some cream around your wound, and you feel yourself going numb. He starts stitching, and you’re crying. “Shh… shh… uh… what’s so fragile that saying its name breaks it?”
“S-s-silence…” you respond. He nods, and keeps stitching.
“You’re a smart cookie, you know?” His words make your heart leap. He keeps stitching. “I do mean it. I really do… I’m almost done with the stitches…” After what feels like an eternity, he finishes, and smiles at you, taking his gloves off. “The worst bit’s over,” he says, stroking your hair. He bandages the area. Now that the worst part is over, you start to appreciate the softness of his hands. You realise he is wearing green nail polish, with a purple question mark on each finger. He finishes bandaging you. “All done!” he says, giving you a headpat, making you giggle. He gives you a warm smile. Your giggling dies down as the exhaustion starts to really hit you. You pass out.
When you open your eyes, you’ve been tucked into a soft, green bed, covered in purple question marks.
“You’re awake!” he says, reminiscent of a puppy who just saw a friend. On top of his outfit from before, he’s wearing a knitted jumper, green with purple question marks, it looks so soft. You’re still in pain, but you blush a little, as he reaches out with his hand, then pauses. “Um, would it be comforting if I held your hand?” Your heart leaps, and you nod, giggling. He gently takes your hand in his, and smiles softly. It’s so soft, it distracts you from some of the sharp pain you feel all over your body.
“Um… th-thank you…” you mumble.
“Hey. I had to save you, you’re like a good luck charm at this point. It… it’s not right when you’re not there,” he says softly, stroking your hand gently. You squeak, giggling. He looks at you, a little smile on his face. “So why do you keep following me? Is it gratitude for me saving you from Joker’s gang? Are you trying to prove your intelligence against the smartest man in Gotham? Or maybe… something else?” he asks in his soft voice, winking at the end. You giggle nervously, trying to collect yourself.
“I… I… heehee… hahaha… you’re… hahahahaha…” You’re shaking, nervous, and he can tell. He gently strokes your hand, a comforting smile on his face.
“It’s okay… take your time…”
“Ha… ha… haha… YOU’RE MY SPECIAL INTEREST!” you blurt out. His eyes are wide, and he looks very surprised. You laugh nervously.
“Like autism?” he asks, his smile widening. You nod, cursing yourself for being so blunt and probably making a fool of yourself – he’s smiling wide and crying tears of joy. His leg is bouncing.
“Hahahaha I need to come out hahahahaha I’m an oriented aroace I hahahaha don’t feel romantic or sexual attraction but I’m feeling other types of attraction to you,” you say, shaking. He has a little pause of processing this, and smiles.
“Hey, you’re valid! So, uh, what other types of attraction do you feel?” he asks, giving a good-natured smile.
“Hahahaha I feel sensual attraction where I want to touch you and I feel alterous attraction which is uh it’s an emotion attraction that isn’t exclusively romantic or platonic haha and maybe I feel aesthetic attraction hahahaha,” you say, trembling. He grins, and giggles.
“You’re quite the riddle, aren’t you? I’ve taken quite a liking to you,” he says, his smile lighting up your world. The way his eyes light up fills your heart with joy. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re so precious. Seriously, you’re one of the most adorable people ever. Seeing you during my crimes… well, now I know how Ozzie feels about seeing birds. You’re like… a little friend…”
You let out a squeak, and he laughs. “You’re so cute… may I put my hand on your face?” he says. You nod, giggling, as he cups your head in his hands. “How do you feel about eye contact?” he asks.
“Haha! I’m okay making eye contact with people I like!” you respond. There is a pause, as he slowly moves his eyes towards you.
“And… do you… like me?” he asks.
You look into his eyes. Both of you giggle. He gently strokes your hair. “Is this okay, d… may I call you dear?” Your heart leaps, and your mouth hangs open in disbelief.
“Haha! I, ha, uh, haha it’s okay! Ha… uh… haha… what… w-what’s… what… what are we?” you ask, blushing slightly. There is a pause, as he thinks.
“You seem to be my biggest fan, and I find you simply adorable. I’ll do anything to make you feel comfortable. I’ll look after you… Batman almost caught me last time, so I have plenty of free time…”
“What… what happened? Wh-what did I miss?” You feel a little sting at the memory. The pain is coming back, and you can feel tears forming. He wipes the tears from your eyes.
“I started the robbery… everything was in place, I had the plan, but… it didn’t feel the same, without you. What takes deep hold and becomes every day, and without it the tree will fall?”
“Uh… root… routine?”
“Exactly. Seeing you, it’s become part of my routine… you hold a place in my heart… I… my plans, I started planning for you…” You look at him, in awe. Somehow, the biggest genius ever, your hero… has been thinking about you.
“Wow…” is all you can say. You’re not even giggling anymore, you’re just repeating the word. He ruffles your hair.
“We Rogues, not many people like us. It’s been a long time since I’ve had such a devoted fan… and you solved my plan faster than Batman… you can understand how much that means to me, right?” he says, seeming… nervous? The confidence is gone, he looks… anxious… like he needs reassurance.
“You’re… haha… my… ha-ha-hero…” you say. His eyes light up, and he nods his head rapidly.
“Um… is it alright if I give you a kiss on the forehead?” he asks. You nod, and start giggling again, as he gently puts his hand behind your head. He gives you a soft kiss on the forehead, making sure to avoid the bandage which you finally notice. He’s so gentle, and the tender kiss is taking away the pain you feel. He lets go, and looks down, into your wide eyes. “With skill, I am paid to save. What am I?”
“… Protect?”
He nods. “I want to protect you… you’re… you’re too precious. I’ll find the people who did this to you…” he says, wrapping his arms around you, looking into your eyes to gauge your reaction. You have a tired look in your eyes, as you lean into him. “I… I have something for you…” He reaches down, and holds your umbrella. Your crude attempt of carving the handle into a question mark shape has now been greatly polished, but most importantly, it has been covered in vibrantly-coloured question marks.
“It’s… beautiful…”
“A beautiful umbrella for a beautiful mind, from an even more beautiful mind,” he says, as you relax in his arms and make a contented little humming noise. He gently strokes your hair, and you fall asleep in the Riddler’s arms, your head buried in his chest.
#riddler fanfic#platonic riddler fanfic#queerplatonic riddler fanfic#platonic riddler x reader#queerplatonic riddler x reader#riddler & reader#the riddler#riddler#edward nygma#edward nigma#dc fanfic#aspec reader#oriented aroace reader#aroace reader#autistic reader#queerplatonic x reader#not tagging normal riddler x reader in case people have filtered it out bc they're sick of seeing smut on the dash#i am aware that there is quite possibly nothing else out there with some of these tags. but we can change that.
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On Crowley, memory, and identity.
So full disclosure first, I am not someone who is particularly interested in having Crowley's angel name on screen - personally I rather like the idea of never having an answer to this question - but I also do think it's interesting and fun to speculate and we got quite a few hints at this throughout this season soooo
Obviously part of this is that we meet him. The angel that would become Crowley is the first person on screen this season. We confirm a lot about him here. He confirm that he is powerful enough to start the engine of the universe. We confirm that he can control gravity and time and space and light. We confirm that he is the being that says let there be light before the beginning. We also confirm that he consulted with the concept designer of the universe and that he's very comfortable with the idea of questioning authority. We are also given Aziraphale's anxiety as a contrast to this and as proof that that is not a universal trait for early angels.
Now, we have always had evidence that Crowley is powerful. He's done some things that seem impossibly big. He stops time very casually and seemingly without effort - even at the end of season 1 it doesn't even seem to give us the same strain on him that holding the Bentley together does. This is a thing that we only ever see Crowley do and notably a thing that you would think other beings would mess with to their advantage if it was possible. Which means they either literally can't or that it never occurred to them that they could. Or as is becoming increasingly clear: perhaps it's a bit of both.
But that's not the only implication of power we get in season 1 either. We get Crowley seemingly in tune with the universe in a way many angels and demons aren't. Which, makes some sense if he helped make it. This manifests in all sorts of ways. He's constantly aware of Aziraphale's presence. He can smell when the world state changes like when Adam names Dog. He holds the Bentley together through utter destruction. He notices that there are different books in the bookshop - something I always assumed was meant to convey he was familiar with the shop's contents but after learning he didn't even know Jane Austen was a writer I wonder if it's actually more to do with him being in tune with reality. He also can apparently quite literally feel when there are eyes on them.
We're given even more of all these things this season in some really interesting ways. Crowley literally tests the air to check if a miracle has happened - another thing that we don't see anyone else do despite Heaven literally assigning someone to Aziraphale to check for a specific miracle. This particular beat is also something we are shown twice this season. Both here and in 1941, when Furfur uses the miracle blocker on Aziraphale. Here Crowley tests his miracles and despite getting nothing of the sort when Aziraphale tries a miracle literally the beat before this, we are given both a visual and an auditory effect. It ripples out with a watery sound effect from Crowley's finger. It's like he's prodding at reality.
There's also several instances involving the recognition or lack thereof of angels and demons. Crowley feels that the demon army is arriving before it does. Neither side seems to be able to track Gabriel - one of the most powerful beings in existence - at all once he leaves Heaven. We also see countless angels fail to notice Crowley himself both as Bildad the Shuhite performing literal miracles right in front of them. And this happens again as he prances about Heaven after Muriel. Aziraphale can't tell Shax is a demon despite Crowley recognizing she's manifested behind him nearly as soon as he answers the phone. Aziraphale can't even recognize that he himself is still an angel at the end of the Job story.
He also. Quite literally. Brings someone back from the dead???? Like waves a hand casually on the street and reconstitutes Mr. Brown like he'd never been dead at all. Mr. Brown returns with no memory of what happened to him holding a newspaper that seems to have literal bite chunks coming out of it. It's not framed as a huge miracle or anything strenuous either - just a casual snap.
And that's not even getting into the parallels with Gabriel. First of all. We get the color purple. It's purple when Aziraphale and angel that would become Crowley start the engine of the quadrants of the universe and it's purple when they miracle to hide Gabriel. This color is associated with power and, historically in the language of this show, with Gabriel himself. Them using it together twice speaks a lot to the power they have together.
But that's not the only symbolism historically tied to Gabriel that has found its way to Crowley this season either. Most flashy of all is the lightning. This is how we see Gabriel arrive on earth at the end of season one and it is something Crowley apparently just Does when he gets too mad to contain himself.
This alone wouldn't catch my attention except. Except the way Crowley reacts to Gabriel's memory problems is... interesting to say the least. He's angry and understandably so. Part of this is him being mad and protective of Aziraphale - he says as much himself to Jim directly. And yet, weirdly, it's the kind of mad that reminded me of something else.
This is the mad he tends to gets at his plants. Do it properly. Think hard. You can do better than that. Grow better. It's the kind of angry that's steeped in projection. It's he kind of angry that is undercut with the occasional weird undercurrent of understanding. And so much of his dialogue with Jim around this is framed like he does actually understand. Jim says it hurts and he says he knows. Jim starts talking about it feeling like being an empty house that still remembers where the furniture is and Crowley immediately latches onto this and understands ah it's looking at where the furniture isn't.
And there's a few other conversations that center around this issue that I find really interesting from a projection perspective. There's the conversation that happens when Crowley goes to have an alcohol fueled chat with Jim. He says "You're Jim now. Got everything just the way you wanted?" This doesn't make a whole lot of sense for him to be addressing Gabriel with. As far as he knows all Gabriel would want was the end of the world.
And then there's the particular way he asks Jim to eliminate himself in this scene. Climb out the window. In other words, have a fall. Something he pretty immediately retracts and clearly feels guilty about no matter how much he hates Gabriel.
And then there's the first conversation he gets to have after learning about Gabriel. Crowley opens this conversation, thinking out loud. He's staring out, not talking to Az yet and the very first thing out of his mouth is, of all things: "He's going to be okay." A weird start for a statement about Gabriel in itself but then Crowley goes and adds what at it's core is his own trauma narrative to the end with, "We can just take him somewhere and leave him there."
Now the real fun bit: Crowley also has memory issues that are out very prominently on display even as far back as season 1.
He has inconsistent memories of his Fall. The answers he gives us to why he Fell change slightly - even when he's alone with himself. He doesn't seem to understand why exactly he Fell even though he clearly has some vague idea of the pieces in play. I always thought to some degree that this was just a trauma response, but season 2 drew even more attention to this and now that we know that memory alteration is how Heaven handles powerful angels I can't help but to wonder if there's more in play here.
Crowley can't remember Furfur - who he apparently literally fought next to during the war in Heaven. Crowley can't remember building a nebula with Saraqael. Crowley doesn't remember why they decided gravity was a good idea.
But he does remember bits and pieces here and there. He remembers doing some of the starmaking. He remembers how to access clearance locked files. He's missing pieces and also seems to have an understanding that Gabriel's memories ARE in there. Almost like he's done this work on himself before.
This narrative itself is also far more concerned with the angel Crowley was this time around. It teases his rank a few different times. Most notably is him having access the files only available to Dominions and above.
Now angel hierarchy is a bit of a messy area depending on what sources you're using but given Good Omens tendencies in the past we can assume that this leaves us five ranks. Dominion, Throne, Cherub, Seraph, and Archangel.
I might break down why I think Dominion, Throne, and Cherub feel kind of odd to me later if there's interest - now available here - in that but given the current length of this meta I just want to focus on that last one for now.
Crowley was an Archangel is far from a new theory and I've honestly historically had some fairly mixed feelings about it. But the parallels between Jim and Crowley lend some interesting connective tissue to a lot of those theories. And. There's also some interesting camera work and script writing tied to Crowley and that term outside of the scenes about Gabriel's memories specifically.
Firstly, during Crowley's chat with Beelzebub he says it's a big universe with plenty of places for an archangel to hide. Like Alpha Centauri perhaps?
Then we get Aziraphale and Crowley both presenting Hell and Heaven respectively the idea that it could have been them that did the archangel class miracle. Aziraphale gets scoffed at and yet. Shax is the one who says the miracle was archangel level and Crowley's response is "how do you know I didn't do it?"
Then later as she's prowling about the shop we get this interesting shot of Crowley in the doorframe and Jim in the background. Crowley grins and offers to let Shax look in and see if she can see any archangels in there while he's framed dead center and Jim himself is blurry in the back of the frame.
And most fascinating in my opinion is this shot that happens when Crowley and Muriel are accessing the classified files. Nearly every shot in this sequence is group shots or shots of Gabriel. The camera is focused in the plot and the way the archangels function as a group and on Gabriel himself. But we get one single shot in this entire sequence of Crowley by himself and it is immediately following Gabriel saying "I am the only first order archangel in the room - or, well, the universe."
And then in the end. We get the Metatron who goes out of his way to avoid using Crowley's name. He calls him demon (and insists correctly that Crowley would recognize him even when Michael doesn't) or refers to him as Aziraphale's friend. He only ever uses that name when trying to use him as a bribe for Aziraphale. That combined with the dark look he gives Crowley implies a familiarity that only the Metatron has with him.
So who is he then? There's plenty of old meta out there about why certain archangels fit or don't and I won't reiterate them here. They're interesting and definitely worth poking around at and very fun to read! Personally I'm not as interested in naming the someone he used to be as I am in examining the places that ghost of this angel has started to poke through the narrative so I'll end this here. It's spiralled into something far longer than I ever meant it to be anyway.
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Merlin had been working for Arthur Pendragon for a year when something unusually strange happened.
This wasn’t “life-or-death-vengeful-magical-creature” strange. That happens every day.
No this oddity didn’t even involve Arthur.
The pompous prick had just left in storm of rage because Merlin was once again gone for days at a time and couldn’t give him a good enough answer as to where. Arthur knew Merlin was lying to him, and it was only a matter of time before the truth came to light, and Merlin’s life would be over.
He was still in Arthur’s chambers, in complete darkness. Body folded into a corner, with his arms wrapped around his knees that were being cradled by his chest.
He was sobbing.
Because life was so fucking unfair and he’s allowed to have a pity-party every once in a while. Merlin would say he’s entitled.
His sobs broke off into silence when a single candle lit itself, barely illuminating the room.
Merlin’s head popped up, wide eyed.
There was no one else. Just him.
And that had not been his magic.
Merlin was on his feet and ready for whatever was being hurled their way, this time.
They appeared, out of thin air.
Or she did.
A woman. With blonde hair cascading over over her thin shoulders. A deep green gown, that was beautiful but not embellished or bejeweled. And her eyes were like lakes, blue and too deep to see to the bottom.
Merlin’s breath was snatched from his throat as they stared at each other.
“Do not be afraid. I am not here to harm you.” She said, her voice was soft and melodic, the way Merlin imagined goddesses would speak.
“Who are you?” He whispered, before correcting. “What are you?”
“You can sense that I am not human?”
Merlin nodded, then narrowed his eyes, trying to put it together, but not quite having all the pieces.
“Every living thing gives off a vibration of sorts…a frequency… you give off nothing. As if you’re-“
“A ghost.” She smiled small but it held a secret joke that Merlin didn’t understand.
“You’re a ghost?” He questioned, further confused. “How are you here? It’s not anywhere near Samhain.”
Then the blonde woman’s eyes turned sad. And she turned to the window looking out at the lightless sky.
“There are some special cases.” She murmured. Then snapped her eyes back to him.
“But that is not why I’m here.”
Merlin’s eyebrows went up in expectation.
The woman’s expression turned to something that Merlin had only ever seen from his mother and Gaius. A sort of pity that’s shrouded in love.
She advanced on him and then settled her hands on his shoulders. Upon closer inspection, he could see the way she wasn’t completely opaque, but he felt her hands as if they were solid, flesh and bone.
“I know who you are, Emrys.”
Merlin practically hissed at the name and began to back away towards the door of the chambers.
“What are you planning to do about it? Tell the king?” Merlin was panicked now. If Uther knew then there would be no chance of saving himself. Or of saving Arthur.
“Calm yourself, dear. That is the last place I would be headed even if I did plan to tell someone.”
Merlin stopped, whispering, consciously aware of the guards that will patrol this corridor at some point soon.
“So why are you here?”
“Because, Merlin, I want to thank you. I want you to know that all that you’ve suffered, all that you’ve sacrificed, has not been in vain.”
What? How could she possibly know…
“I have been here some time, Merlin. Unseen but always watching.” She smiled again. “This was the deal I made. I gladly gave my life if they agreed to let me watch him grow.”
Time froze.
And suddenly everything clicked into place for Merlin.
He audibly gasped.
“You…” he started shaking his head as if it were a hallucination brought by bad wine or mysterious herbs. “You’re her.”
He stared back into those eyes.
Those eyes he’d come to know on a different human. Eyes he’d come to love.
“Yes. I am. And I have been here with him, watching him struggle and learn. Make mistakes.”
She clutched him again by the shoulders.
“Merlin, I want to thank you for taking care of my son.”
He was shaking his head and stuttering incoherently, almost silently, trying to find words to express everything he feels every day.
“You-I-your son is…a great man. And he’s going to be a good King. A kind, just, King.”
She smirked again at him, probably knowing more than he did about everything.
And then her smile turned soft as she replied.
“The Once and Future King.”
Merlin nodded, feeling a little giddy himself at the idea. Arthur sitting atop the throne of Albion and ruling his people in an age of peace, until he turns old and grey. Trusting the next generation to take the reins.
Merlin chuckled a little.
“The gods couldn’t have picked anyone better suited.”
“He will need you, Merlin. Especially in what’s to come. But this is nothing you are not already aware of.” She had a very soft smile, genuine, not one harsh line on her whole face. “I’ve also appeared to you now to say, I think you should be truthful with him.” Merlin’s instincts almost caused him to recoil from her again, but he stilled his body, as she continued. “I see him when you are not here, when he is alone, when he’s with his father. The way that he communicates his feelings are hurtful and he has no clue how to work through them. I am sorry that Uther raised him that way.” Merlin watched transparent tears slide down her pale face. “But you help him. He’s getting better with himself, with others. You are the light in his life, he wants to do better because of you, the way you see him.”
Merlin was crying too. He couldn’t help it.
He didn’t think anyone ever knew what really went on inside this blasted castle, but someone was here, watching him fail and try and try again and succeed sometimes, and keep Arthur and Camelot safe and happy. Someone has been rooting for him the entire time, he was never really alone.
“Hold on. Would he be able to see you?” Merlin whispered cautiously. “Do you want him to?”
“I’m afraid that it’s a little more complicated for people without magic. I was able to appear before you now, because your guard was down while you were crying. Your mental and emotional barriers were lowered and I was allowed to reveal myself. For Arthur and I to talk, I would need a lot of magic and a lot of trust.” She reminded him so much of Arthur in the way she hid her melancholy behind a dazzling smile.
“But that is not the reason I think you should tell him. He might be frustrated at first, but he will be far less angry than he was moments ago. He trusts you and he knows there is something you are not telling him. I think you would both benefit from a little honesty, him just as much as you.” She smirked at the last comment.
Merlin cannot believe that he just got talked into revealing his magic by the Queen of Camelot.
This day is so strange.
Wait-
“What does that mean? What is it that Arthur is keeping from me?” He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and thought. He knew almost everything about the man. He could probably paint him blindfolded at this point, with every buckle and button in perfect place. He knew his sense of humor, his daily schedule by heart, he knew everything Arthur thought about everyone, and Arthur knew the same of him…almost.
Except for that one-okay, maybe two things.
Maybe Arthur had an exception also.
“You will have to be vulnerable in order to find the answer to your question.” It almost sounds like a riddle of Kilgarah’s but the Queen’s made a lot more sense to him than the Great Dragon’s usually did.
“When he returns, avoid cornering him in the room. He does not do well with-“ the lady cut herself off for the first time, somehow even ghosts were conflicted in their thoughts. Her face hardened, “Uther used tactics like this to intimidate Arthur when he was a boy being scolded. For absolutely nothing at all. For doing things that boys should be doing!” Her voice reached its loudest volume and she stumbled farther away from him, wide-eyed.
“I am so sorry, Merlin. I have not spoken to anyone in so long. I didn’t not mean to get angry.” Tears welled in her blue, blue eyes.
Merlin could not stand it.
“There is nothing to apologize for. You have every right to be angry. I am angry. Sometimes with destiny, or dragons, or evil unknown forces lurking in the dark. But always at Uther. For treating Arthur that way, like an animal raised for slaughter. And for never realizing how much it scarred him. And for never changing, or apologizing. Never once. He is not even human anymore.”
They stood there, locked into each other, sharing in their grief, in their pain for this boy that they love more than life.
And then they heard footsteps, both parties equally startled for different reasons.
“Good luck, Merlin.” Igraine was smiling softly again, as if it had never left, maybe that is what Arthur does for her. What he does for them both. Bring the color and joy back into the world like a breath of clean air. “You will do well.” She nodded, before starting to disappear, back into the invisible ether of the castle.
Then the door swung open to reveal Arthur, looking almost apologetic, but also scanning the room before landing his eyes back on Merlin.
“Who are you talking to?”
“No one. Myself.” Another lie. Shit.
This isn’t going well and he’s three words into it.
The prince opened his mouth as if to retort but Merlin stopped him confidently proclaiming,
“Arthur, I need to tell you something.” It was as though Merlin could feel a weight physically lifting off his shoulders as soon as the words left his mouth. “Quite a few things actually. I have not been honest with you. But I don’t want to keep secrets anymore.”
Arthur stood momentarily speechless, surprised at Merlin’s change of heart.
TBC…
#merthur#merlin#merlin and arthur#arthur pendragon#prince arthur#igraine#merthur fic#from the drafts#if I continue it would only be a second part
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Kitchen Confessions | 18+ Only
MASTERLIST
Pairing: Loki x f!reader
Words: 2179
Warnings/Content: fluff followed by smut, reader and Loki are roommates, argument (almost like a banter), mutual pining, idiots who won't confess their love to each other, frustrated love confessing??, p in v, creampie, kissing, nicknames (love, sweetheart, darling), oral (fem receiving), loki gives soft dom vibes??
Summary: You give Loki some silent treatment.
"Fine, I don't care about you," he says casually, with that same challenging face he always carries whenever he talks to you, asking you to react to him, argue with him. But this time, his words actually gashed.
Did he really not care? Did he actually just see you as his roommate and nothing else all this time?
There was always some chemistry and some spark between you two, and you were aware it was always more than that. That understanding between you two, that flirting, being protective of each other, you were no stranger to it that you two used to behave like couples most of the time.
But today, in this heated argument you two just had, when he said those words, it did feel as if he meant that.
You frown slightly and look him in the eyes before turning around and heading to the kitchen, not wanting to talk to him in the slightest.
He watches you leave in front of him and head to the kitchen while he stands in the living room. He can't believe you actually fell for his act of not caring. He sits down on the couch with an agitated expression on his face. You will go back to normal after a while, he knew that, as you always did after every banter.
It had been hours now, you had not even spoken a word to him. Leave that, not even glanced at him. You were ignoring his presence. And he was hating that. You were going around the house doing your business, making yourself some food, and keeping your bedroom clean.
Gosh, you didn't even come to lay on the couch beside him to watch some television today.
Now you were in the kitchen again, and he could make out you were trying to find yourself an evening snack. He decides to join you in the kitchen, his annoyance at your avoidance was growing, and he was getting very tempted to go over and pull you back beside him and keep you there.
Your back was turned to him as you were facing the kitchen counter. You felt his presence near you but decided not to look at him and continued making your light sandwich.
He walks over to you and speaks in a slightly irritated tone, forcing it, as a part of him wanted to just wrap his arms around you and pull you close. "What's the issue? Why are you avoiding me?"
You don't look at him.
"Oh for the sake of-" he grabs your arm and turns you to face him. "Why have you been avoiding me?"
As if he doesn't know. The heights of this man.
To his relief, you finally look up at him and speak in a low tone, "I don't want to talk to you." He leans in pretty much face to face and speaks softly, his words carrying a bit of irritation. "I am starting to get annoyed."
"You're always annoyed. Nothing new." you reply.
A small smile forms on his face as you say this and he sighs as he can't stay serious anymore. The way you argue and complain is almost endearing to him and he cannot help it. His irritation finally gives it's way and his eyes lock on you.
"You are quite perceptive aren't you?" he says trying to hide his smile.
"Yes I am." you say, giving him a challenging look.
He stares at your lips then back at your eyes. "I have other emotions as well, you know that right?"
"Hmm…doesn't look like it."
He tries to suppress a small smirk as he speaks. "You think all I'm capable of is being annoyed and angry?"
"Yeah."
His smirk grows as he speaks softly, getting a bit closer. "Guess you are gonna have to see more of my emotions then…"
You slightly gulp as he gets closer but keep your guard. "Which…is probably not possible…"
He chuckles softly, "Who said it's not possible?"
"I did." you say and before he could get even closer, you turn around to face the kitchen counter again. Loki rolls his eyes and grabs your waist and pulls you back as he speaks in a more firm tone now as if he's trying to get his point across.
"You can't tell me what I'll do or how I feel, sweetheart." He grabs your wrist with other hand and pulls your body more tightly into his as he pushes his chest into yours.
"Yeah, but I can guess…" You say looking at him but regretting it a second later when you notice how close his face is, making your heart beat faster.
Meanwhile Loki cannot deny that you have a point. He starts to get flustered as he notices you breathing heavily and that you both are in an intimate stance that he cannot ignore. He looks at you with longing eyes and you can see that his body language was getting quite comfortable with yours. You look at his lips then shyly look away, rolling your eyes a bit to show you're still in the argument.
Getting frustrated with your avoidance, he does the only thing he knows how to do that might provoke a reaction from you: he grabs your jaw and turns your face to him, pulling you close. He leans close so that his lips are just a few inches away from you. He breaths softly on your face and looks at your lips before speaking in a soft and quiet tone."If you are avoiding me because you want me, then it's working."
Staring at him a bit surprised he figured you out, you say nothing.
Still holding you tight he leans even closer, his eyes now fixed on your lips as he speaks in a silky voice. "You are not gonna avoid me forever. I'm not going to let you..." He finally gives in and kisses you softly on the lips, his one hand keeping you tightly against him.
You both continue making out passionately against the kitchen counter.
After a few seconds he pulls away, looking at your face and stroking your flicks out of your face. "Do you have any idea how frustrating it was just watching you walk away like that and not being able to say I want you so badly? Your body language and how close you get to me sometimes....the way you're avoiding me, all it does is make me yearn to have you more. How can you think that's gonna make me ignore you? Your beauty is so exquisite and you think I don't care about that?"
"You-" you try to think of another complaint against him but his words get to you and a blush forms on your cheeks. The way you're blushing make it really difficult for him to stay infuriated.
"Do you have any idea what it does to me when you act this way? You are driving me crazy by making me want you more than ever. It makes me want to do all sorts of things to you." He says, not even believing himself he is confessing this. He pauses as he bites his lip, not sure he can resist his strong desire to grab you and take it to the next level.
"A-all sorts of things…?" you look up at him blushing.
So all this time this man was hiding these feelings? What an actor.
"All sorts of things. You don't even want to know what I would do to you if I were your boyfriend." You felt your heart coming out of your chest with this one. You look down shyly, not knowing how to reply to him anymore as you've been proven wrong that he doesn't care about you.
"Look at me. Tell me right now that you don't feel the same way. Tell me you don't want me to touch you and I'll stop." You look up at him and your eyes give him the obvious answer.
Face flushed with your admittance, he speaks softly as he stares into your eyes, "That's it, that's all I needed." He give your waist a squeeze and speaks, "Now let me show you just how much I wanted you all this time…"
He holds you by your waist tight as he leans in and begins making out with you passionately, he doesn't hold back or show you any restraint, his hands stay on your waist and he only pulls you tighter to his body.
There is a mix of dominance and passion in the way he makes out with you and he only continues to grow more passionate with each second.
As you're making out he slowly turns you so you're facing the couch behind you. He continues making out with you as he slowly bends down a bit and picks you up so that he's holding you in his arms. He's still holding you by the waist while he slowly starts walking towards the couch, still making out with you passionately.
He puts his hands beneath your skirt and squeezes your ass before setting you on the couch. Holding him by the shirt, you pull him onto you as you groan into the kiss. He puts his hand under your skirt and pulls down your delicate panties, his tongue still entwined with yours.
He retreats from your lips, planting tender, lustful kisses around your cheeks, jaw and earlobe. Your fingers stray across his smooth shirt, brushing across his firm chest. His erection was palpable through his pants, he leans in to get between your legs, on your pubic mound.
You squeal as he puts his lips around your earlobe and gives it a tiny bite.
"Admit it," he murmurs while reaching down to have his time with your neck.
"W…what…" you say in a voice filled with ecstasy.
"Admit that you wanted me all this time too, and I wasn't imagining it." He says this, and you feel the tip of his tongue roaming up your neck.
"L-loki," you moan, clutching his shirt tightly.
"Norns… just admit it." He says it loudly, and his teeth nip at your skin, and you squirm.
"I…I admit I wanted you…" You bite your lip.
Gosh, you wanted him in already.
"Loki…"
"Patience, sweetheart." He whispers while taking his time to take off your top and pulling up your bra to expose your hardened nipples. He takes one of your nipples in between his teeth and lightly pulls at it, making you whimper. He gives your nipple a lick before leaning down and lifting your legs, along with your skirt, to fully reveal your clit to him.
"So...pretty..." he remarks, removing his share of clothes while keeping his gaze fixed on your hole.
You become even more excited to have him inside you as he shows you his erection. You had no idea when your hand reached down and into his silky hair as he leaned down to kiss your clit while holding your thighs firmly in place. He kisses your hole, teasing it, teasing it so much that it made you a needy, moaning mess.
"Loki…please…" you almost beg. He pulls away and looks at you.
"Ready for me already, love?" You nod, and he cups your face and places a kiss on your lips for a second, then pulls away to take hold of his massive cock and slowly enter your hole.
You whimper and look at his face, then his bare shoulders, and hold your hands out to hold on to him, but instead he grabs both of your hands and pins them down on the couch.
"Stay still. No touching." You let out a whine and he buries his cock further inside you as if shutting you up. He moves his hips against your body at a steady pace, occasionally leaning down to kiss your lips or bite your neck. He was increasing his speed randomly and then slowing down, torturing your sweet cunt.
"I almost feel sorry for you…" he says, grabbing hold of one of your breasts and kissing your cheeks while his cock thrashes against your pussy.
"Ahh…mm…" You moan, and his hand squeezes your breast.
He was now moving his body almost brutally fast, and you can feel yourself drawing nearer. He gives you a sidelong glance while grinning.
"You want to come, darling?" You avert your gaze to him, opening your eyes, and hum in agreement.
"Come darling…come over my cock…" he growls the last part while slamming his balls near your asshole.
"Ahh…fuck…Loki!" You yelled feeling his juices pouring inside you.
Gritting his teeth, he leaned on your body, letting go of your wrists and breathing heavily, your chests touching and you could feel his weight on you.
He inhales sharply and glances at you and your physique, admiring your form. You continue to breathe heavily while beaming at him.
"Now you will know what things I would do to you now that I am your boyfriend." He says as he stoops down to kiss your cheek.
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#jiya writes#t: loki oneshots#loki#loki x reader fluff#loki fluff#loki x reader smut#tom hiddleston#loki x reader#loki x female reader#loki x f!reader#loki fanfictions#loki fanfiction#loki fanfics#loki smut#marvel#marvel fanfics#loki laufeyson#loki odinson#loki x f!reader smut#loki x fem!reader smut#loki x fem!reader#loki x fem!reader fluff#loki x f!reader fluff
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My Only Sunshine
It was a quiet night in Gotham, when suddenly the coms crackle to life, with a voice, that seemingly none of the bats recognized. That is all but one. Damians blood ran cold as he heard something that should not be possible. He had never even let himself think about it, because even recalling the mere memory of it would shatter him.
The other night, dear
As I lay sleeping
I dreamed I held you
In my arms
Batman's voice was the first to come over the coms “oracle who is this? Where are they?”
“I’m working on it B.” She crackle back in her slightly mechanical disguised voice.
When I awoke, dear
I was mistaken
So I hung my head and I cried
Oracle may not have known where it was coming from, but he did. He knew it as he knew the heart beating in his chest and the air within his lungs. Without thinking he leapt off the building, grappling across the city that his father loved, but he has never thought of as his true home.
You are my sunshine
My only sunshine
You make me happy
When skies are gray
He was vaguely aware as Batman cried out for him, but that didn’t matter. His blood was rushing too quickly through his ears. Any protest or question simply ignored. He had somewhere he needed to be, and he needed to be there now.
You'll never know, dear
How much I love you
Please don't take
My sunshine away
“Oracle location!”
“I’m trying B! But these people are good I can’t work faster than I am!”
Was the last thing that came over the coms before he reached up and muted everyone, everyone but the voice he was focused on. The world had narrowed down to the wind whipping past him, his heartbeat in his ears and the one voice that he had wish to hear again for so long.
I'll always love you and make you happy
And nothing else could come between
His lungs burned as Wayne industries came in to view. Why? Why of all nights was he on the outskirts of the city? He needed to move faster, faster, please be fast enough. He begged to himself, to whatever god was out there be fast enough ….and for him to be there for this not to be some sort of cruel trick.
But if you leave me to love another
I’ll support you as you follow your dreams
It was him. It had to be him. only he knew to sing it that way. His brother quietly singing and holding him as he silently cried. He was never good enough for grandfather, he will never be good enough to be the heir to be excepted never daring, hopeing to be loved, but it was never like that with his brother. His brother loved him more than anything, and he couldn’t stop anything as grandfather ran his sword through the heart of the one person he truly loved. Through the heart of Damien’s one weakness.
You are my sunshine
My only sunshine
You make me happy
When skies are gray
Even at the end, when his brother knew grandfather was coming for him, his too kind brother never forced him. Always giving him a choice and he had failed his brother when he was willing to give up everything for someone as weak and pitiful as him. He wasn’t strong enough to run. He wasn’t strong enough to protect the one person who loved him above all else.
You'll never know, dear
How much I love you
Please don't take
My sunshine away
He was so close three minutes out. Almost there the highest spot in the city, the best place to see the stars.
Northstar, I’m so happy you made it out. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there with you.
My Northstar please stop blaming yourself. This was my choice. It was always my choice and I don’t regret a second of it so neither should you. You are without a second of doubt the best thing to have ever happened to me.
Damien felt a pit open up in his stomach. Less than two minutes to Wayne enterprises
You have to let the others in Northstar. Being family to them, loving them it’s not replacing me or dishonoring me. Quite the opposite Northstar it’s keeping me alive; In a different way, but I’m still with you.
Go on brother adventures with Dick, try things that make you uncomfortable, but know that he will keep you safe.
Spend time with Babs in the library, read books that let you travel to fantastical worlds that we could never dream of.
Go to Jason for advice. You two are more alike than you even know, lean on each other, use that.
Try photography with Tim. Take pictures of all those animals that you love.
Less than one minute
Pull pranks with Stephanie. Let yourself be a kid and laugh at stupid and dumb things.
When things get too much go to Cass for quiet and understanding.
Go to Duke and ask him to take you out shopping at a regular store or to go to the mall to buy a toy for yourself. Enjoy the normal quiet moments.
Go to Bruce for comfort, he is Batman but he is also our dad don’t forget that, let him be a dad.
The world went blurry. There is no one on the roof.
Northstar I’m gone. I really am gone. You know how magic is Northstar your big brother had a few tricks up his sleeve, but I’m afraid this used the last of it. In the future in the far, far, far, future when you come join me in the hereafter, I’ll be waiting for you with open arms. I love you, Northstar now let our family love you in my stead.
As his feet made contact with the roof of Wayne enterprises a small, glowing object made it self known in the center of the roof. It appeared that stars itself littered and sprung from the object, beckoning him forward.
He was vaguely aware of the rest of the bats and birds joining him on the roof, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that his shaking hand was reaching out to grab the old dog stuffed animal as the last glitters of Stardust left the plush.
A drop of water fell down and landed on the left ear of the love worn dog. Reaching up and touching below the domino he realize that he was crying. When did that happen? When was the last time this happened?
As he clutched the dog plush to his chest, a frivolity that would have never been allowed in the league, but still his brother who he loved most in this world snuck it in for him. Hiding it behind a loose stone in the wall. Bringing it out for him to hold as his big brother comforted him and told him stories of a better life that they could have.
The demons heir, Robin, Damien sobbed, cried for the injustice of the world, for his brother who even waiting for him in the hereafter was still looking out for him.
His body shook as wave after wave of agony and despair ripped through him. Years of repressed grief tore through his body sharper and with more deadly aim than any blade. The floodgates had been opened. His big brother had given him this one last gift.
So when Batman, his father, his dad crouched down in front of him concern showing through his usual stoic expression he does not ignore what his brother has given him and leaps forward, clutching onto his dad and weeping for the brother that he lost and the son his dad will never get to know.
( inspired by this)
youtube
#dp x dc#dc x dp#demon twins au#Sort of#Big brother Danny#so yay my first fic to ever escape the just an idea phase#And it was because I was in a sad mood#So enjoy me somewhat constructively using my sadness for fics#Use this as a prompt if you want to continue the sadness#dp x dc prompt#Using writing as therapy#damian wayne#danny phantom#Danny al ghul reincarnated as Danny Fenton#The timelines match up because of clockwork#And because I said so#Clockwork let’s Danny send one message to Damien#Youtube
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Zims entire personality is completely fabricated
Let me explain.
Zim, as we know him, is just a mask made up by.. well, Zim.
Zim doesn’t exist.
Because Zim, at his most genuine, loves.
And Zim is not supposed to love.
It’s been thrown around throughout the entire course of the series that Zim is, in fact, a very intelligent individual. Moreso than irkens, renowned technology-thieves, are known to be. It’s for this fact, that it would make sense, that Zim would not be completely ignorant of how the rest of Irken society views him.
The defect, the worst irken to ever exist, et cetera.
There’s no way to be that obtuse about your own infamy, and if there is, there’s enough hints and clues in the series to allow viewers to come to the conclusion that Zim isn’t unaware of it all.
And no, this is not a “Zim is a genius and knows absolutely everything” post. He’s definitely gullible. He absolutely has the worst priorities, he doesn’t know when to quit, too stubborn and set in his own beliefs, but he does Know a lot more than he lets on.
Multiple instances of Tallest Purple nearly revealing the truth about Zim’s mission or being too careless with his words are brushed away, either spoken over by Red or ignored completely by Zim, as if he didn’t hear it at all. Similarly, Sizz-Lorr exists as tangible evidence of everything wrong with Zim’s falsified identity as an invader. He shows up for one episode and that episode introduces some of the most important building on Zim’s coding and the consequences derived from his destructive actions on Irk. And his response to this, is to flat out deny it. Because with Purple, he has the expectation to not be aware. With Sizz-Lorr, everything he’s done is laid out in front of him, forcing him to acknowledge it. He won’t.
Zim, at his most genuine, is paranoid.
Paranoid enough to fabricate an entire personality from nothing after having the entirety of Irken knowledge downloaded into his PAK, only minutes after having been freed from his tube.
Zim is a bootlicker. Zim couldn’t care less about the Tallest. Zim seeks absolution from the Tallest because he knows that he was Made Wrong and that the things he’s done are unforgivable, but he can’t help himself. Zim only goes out of his way to gain their attention because he knows that’s what the average irken desires. All of these are true.
Zim is only drawn to invading in the most superficial way possible for an irken. He enjoys the idea of invading, not because it is personally "appealing" to him in any sense of the word, but because he knows that it is for others. It's an esteemed title. An invader gets to have respect. An invader gets to be addressed directly by the Tallest.
Being an invader is the best thing. Not for him, but for his act.
He needs the act. The act will save him from his imperialistic society. The act is the worst thing to ever happen to him.
Zim is nothing without it. He’s nothing with it.
He hates the act.
(“Hey, you’re a worse flier than I am!”)
And it’s very, very likely that he hates himself because of it. Much more than anyone else could ever hate him, because their hate for him is as superficial as his allegiance to the Empire is.
Zim does not fit in on Irk because Irk doesn’t need a Zim. Irk doesn’t need an irken soldier whose sole identity is to destroy.
Which is why Zim fits in so much better on Earth as its villain. On Earth, he gets to be a part of the story, not a fool that has to force himself on stage to even have some semblance of a spotlight.
Zim was already firmly set into his role before arriving to Earth; but coming there, and meeting Dib, further instills Zim with the drive to keep it up. Dib exists to be a hero, after all! And heroes need their villains. Zim fits into that role perfectly. And of course Zim, being nothing BUT a role, is drawn to it. He'll feed into Dib's alien obsession because Dib's alien obsession fits into Zim's "character". The big bad guy that needs to be fought against.
Which makes sense.
If he's the big bad that everyone hates, he doesn't have to worry about wondering if anyone loves him, because he knows they don't.
His first words were “I love you.”
The Zim we know does not love.
The Zim we know is nothing but an elaborate, one-irken act, stuck playing the same role in the same show for as long as he draws it out for.
One which would collapse if anything ever brought attention to it.
this post would not have been made without the help of @short-and-ugly and @animatorfun. seriously. like they wrote it. they were my editors.
this is NOT a headcanon post, im for realsies. this is metatextual analysis. i genuinely believe this is what zims character is supposed to be ((even if not necessarily intentionally))
#iz#invader zim#zim#iz analysis#long post#very long post#vermi.txt#Zim Larp Theory#named soafter our google doc about it
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Family grows, it evolves…
Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
There was a new exhibit on Ancient Greece at the museum, and as the resident expert Diana was given free range of the exhibit. Normally this wouldn’t be an issue, normally the League doesn’t find a clone of one of its founding members and spend a, frankly, ridiculous amount of time deciding how to proceed.
Diana sighed as she looked at the large room filled with artifacts needing to be catalogued before display. She lamented not having the same speed as the flash for but a moment before getting to work. It was 5:00, if she wanted to get any sleep tonight, she needed to get to work.
She steadily made her way through stacks of paperwork, working with the efficiency that was drilled into her since birth. It had been hours since she began her work, and though she tired, she resolved to head home to get changed for the next day. It wasn’t until she made her way from the basement that she realized something was off. Doris was sitting at reception, though she should have left at 8:00, the sun was still high in the sky, not yet ready to make its decent.
“Calling it an early night, Diana?” Doris asked “Big day tomorrow! Finally setting up the new exhibit. I can’t wait to take the kids, they’re so excited to see it.” She said with a wide smile. Diana surveyed the desk, catching a glance the clock. There in bold numbers and as 7:00pm, she smiled as she replied.
“I finished things up sooner than planned, so I thought I’d head out for the night. I need to get dinner started before my guest arrives.” Doris’ face nearly split in two.
“A guest, is he handsome, oh how could you hold out on me Diana!?” She said excitedly “I need all the details!” Diana laughed.
“Nothing like that, my Grandfather decided to pop in for a surprise visit. I haven’t seen him in quite some time, so it’s a lovely surprise.” Doris nodded along.
“You’re a good grandkid. I miss my grandparents everyday, you never know how much time you’ve got.” She said with a sigh. “Have a good night!”
“All the time in the world.” She said to herself, checking her watch and grinning. It read 4:30 am, she yawned as she left, making her way back to her apartment.
Everything thing was silent when she arrived, though that was to be expected at this point. She wade her way to the kitchen passing by the figure on the couch.
“Would you like some tea? Do you drink at all?” She inquired.
“I am perfectly capable, though I rarely indulge.” He replied in a monotone voice, if she had been anyone else she like would not have caught the edge of sadness clinging to his voice. Diana set the kettle on the stove and made her way over to the couch.
“Something troubles you, something big enough to approach me after all these years.” Clockwork smiled “You’re much sharper than your father ever was” the smile dropped.
“You are aware of the multiverse.” He said, Diana nodded. “As the Master of time, I bear witness to each world, each time line. There exists a world where humans built a bridge to the Infinite Realms, creating a being both born and killed by the infinite.” Diana gave him her upmost attention. “Sometime ago I was tasked with the elimination of this creature, this child, to prevent the tragedy he would bring upon that world.” He smiled “I was never one to listen to orders though, and instead I set the boy on a path that would bring about great change… it had unexpected side effects.”
“What kind of side effects?” Diana asked, worried.
“He began to cling to me, seeking me out for advice. I even found him asleep in my clock tower more than once. I have admittedly come to see him as my grandson.” Clockwork have a soft smile “He reminded me so much of you when we first met.” He sighed “I am here to ask a favor, young Danny is approaching a crossroads. There are two possible paths his timeline might take, one where he lives of the rest of his years moving between living in dead, his truth hidden from those who wish him harm. However there is another path, one I fear is becoming more and more likely than the last.” Diana had never seen her grandfather look so old, his entire form shifting to match his tone.
“What is it? What is going to happen?” Clockwork looked at her with sad, tired eyes.
“He will be betrayed, from this betrayal he will suffer such agony that the Realms themselves will retaliate. Then he will sleep eternal, bound to the infinite. His world destroyed.” Diana gasped. She placed a hand over his,
“What do you need me to do?” She asked firmly.
“Should the worst come about, I intend to steal him away from that world. Cutting off its connection to the realms permanently. However he is a being of both life and death, he cannot neglect his human half. What I ask of you is this, that you allow this boy to stay here, with you. There is no one else I would trust with such a task.” Diana hesitated.
She was a warrior, trained for battle from birth. She knew nothing of caring for a child. She thought her grandfather intended for her assist him in battle but this…. She looked at her grandfather, his sad eyes resigned, as though he expected her to refuse.
“Very well, on one condition.”
“Anything my dear.” She smiled.
“You must visit more, when last we met I told you I needed time. You gave me that, now I ask once more for time, time spent together.” She nearly jumped as his form shifted to that of a child.
“Nothing would please me more.”
“And grandfather? Should the worst not pass, I would still like to meet tho cousin of mine.” Clockwork froze, before he practically melted.
“Of course.” His form shifted once more to that of a young adult. Diana smiled pulling her grandfather into a hug.
“Thank you.” He whispered and he was gone. The kettle screamed. Diana got ready for a long nights rest.
—————————
A week passed before she heard anything from her grandfather. It was to the night before the opening of her new exhibit and she expected everything to go as planned. Just as she was picking out what she was going to wear to the gala, the sound of cars outside her window stopped.
“What do you think? Red or black?” She asked as she turned around holding the two dresses. Her grandfather stood tall, a stern look on his face. Diana set down the dresses. “It happened, didn’t it?” Clockwork nodded. Making his way towards the living room he stopped by the couch. There, asleep on her couch was a young teen, not much older than some of her teammates protégés. He had pitch black hair and pale skin, with lightning scars crawling up his neck. He chest did not move.
“He’s not breathing!” She turned to her grandfather, but he appeared unbothered. He smiled, watching the boy sleep.
“As I said before, he is a being of both life and death, sometime pieces of one form bleed into the other.” He turned to Diana, “He needs his rest, as for your first question, the blue dress will suit you much better on this occasion.” Diana gave him a soft smile.
“Come, I shall make us some tea while you tell me more about my cousin.” Clockwork nodded, taking a moment to readjust the blanket around the teen, before heading to the kitchen.
——————-
When Danny woke, to the sound of people talking he had a horrid migraine. He did his best to ignore the pain as he tried to remember where he was. The last thing he remembered was a dream of his parents yelling and the GIW knocking down their door. He slowly sat up, looking around the room, every wall was covered in pictures. Danny slowly stood and made his way over to the pictures. They all took place over varied times, ranging from, at the earliest, the 1920s all the way to the 2000s. All of the featured the same woman, she remained unchanged even as those around her grew old.
He listen to the voices, one familiar, one not, as he made his way towards the source of the noise. When he opened the door he was greeted by the familiar face of Clockwork. Next to him was the woman from the photos just as unchanged.
“Good afternoon Danny, did you rest well?” Danny did his best to disguise his flinch at the sound, grinning at the old ghost.
“Just fine thanks, what….what exactly happened? Where are we?” Confusion dripping from his voice.
Clockwork looked Danny in the eye, what he said next nearly broke him.
“I’m so sorry, Danny.”
Danny’s legs almost gave out under him. “It happened didn’t it? They tried to turn me in, to the GIW. That wasn’t a dream.” The ancient stayed silent, Danny's eyes went wide. "Is Jazz okay!? She... she was upstairs... if they hurt her!" Clockwork stopped him.
"Your sister is fine, they were only there for you." Danny took a deep breath, trying to process everything.
"So what comes next? Where are we?" Clockwork looked at him with a deep sadness.
"We are in a world separate from your own, connected by the Infinite Realms. I saw the possibility of what was to come and made arrangements. Due to the crimes of your world against you, the Observants and myself decided the best course of action would be to remove you from your world, and cut the living off from the Infinite Realms entirely." Danny looked down, resigned to knowledge of what they planned to do to him. "As you know, as a half-ghost you must tend to both sides of your being." Clockwork turned to the woman, "Danny, this is my granddaughter, Princess Diana of Themascyra. She has agreed to have you stay here, with her." Danny frowned.
"Your granddaughter? But she's...uhh" he paused, not sure how to continue. Diana laughed.
"Alive? Yes, I do believe I am. I'm assuming my grandfather has neglected to explain his past life" Danny nodded "How much do you know of the stories Ancient Greece?"
"More than most I think, there are a lot of constellations named after the myths. That and it's hard to visit Pandora and NOT get an hour lecture on Greece" Diana's eyes went wide.
"You know Lady Pandora? How wonderful, I grew up hearing stories of her bravery!” She smiled “That being said, that will make things a bit easier. My mother is Hippolyta, her desire to have a daughter was so great that she molded me from sand, Zeus, king of the gods, used his power to give me life.” Danny blinked once, then twice.
“So…you’re a Demi-god? I don’t understand how that makes you Clockworks granddaughter.” Diana smiled. “I mean, I know Clockwork probably used to be Chronos, Jazz and I had a whole debate about that, but what does that have to do with Zeus?” Diana smiled patiently.
“Danny, Chronos is the primordial god of time, yes?” Danny nodded “Okay, well he is also the primordial form of Kronos, the father of Zeus, my father.” Danny froze, looking over to Clockwork who merely nodded, as though Danny’s brain was currently trying to shut down. After a moment the dots finally seemed to click.
“YOU ATE YOUR KIDS?!?!”
Clockwork sighed, Diana laughed, Danny had a mental breakdown.
It took close to five minutes for Clockwork to fully explain as Diana grinned in the background drinking her tea. Once he calmed down, Clockwork finished continued expaining.
"As for your ghostly half, I will be providing plenty of ectoplasm for you to eat as well as bringing you to the Infinite realms each week until you learn to create portals of your own." Danny nodded.
"What about school? Or hell, anything really. I don't exist in this world, how exactly do I go about doing anything?" Clockwork smiled.
"I called on the power of the ghost writer for any legal documents and I personally filed them in the proper time period to ensure you have what you need. I have given those to Diana" she nodded "as well as giving her legal custody of you. As far as the law is concerned you are her recently orphaned cousin. Son of her estranged Uncle Haiden and Aunt Penelope, who tragically died a few days ago." Clockwork smiled, rising from his seat.
"I'm afraid I have over stayed my welcome, I think it's best I take my leave and allow the two of you time to acquaint yourselves better." Danny stopped Clockwork, giving him a hug he whispered.
"Thank you." Clockwork gently carded his fingers through his hair before stepping back.
"If either of you need anything, just ask." and he was gone. Suddenly there was an influx of noise coming from outside, just enough to tell them that the world outside was moving once more.
Danny stood awkwardly by the chair their grandfather was occupying.
"You know, I don't bite." Diana said, trying to break the ice.
"I do." Danny replied on reflex, before covering his mouth. He looked at Diana, she looked back before they both burst out in peals of laughter.
"This is so weird, what even is my life?" Diana wiped a tear from her eye.
"Well, considering one of my teammates dresses up as a bat and beats up criminals, while another talks to fish, I think it's safe to say neither of our lives can be considered normal." Danny broke out in another fit of laughter.
"No shit?" he asked. Diana lifted a single brow at the term.
"No shit."
"What kind of team are you on exactly? Extreme cosplaying? Underwater battle royale?" Diana smirked.
"How about we get you some food and I tell you all about it?"
Danny smiled "Sounds like a plan."
@a-salty-sal@impulsiveasshole@meira-3919@alcorbearson@cute6troll@samgirl98@skulld3mort-1fan@addie-lover-of-stories@amercurio@chronicallyonline-fandomwh0r3 @heirxofxtime @gin2212 @thegatorsgoose@wanderer-of-worlds@terzatheunderscorerima@bright-shade@satanicrutialspecialist@mur-ururu@birdie-24-05@ascetic-orange@cyber-geist@thatrandomsarahchick
#ho boy definitely cross posting#diana of themiscyra#diana prince#danny phantom#dc x dp#clockwork#its going on ao3#no ships right now#maybe later maybe not#is there an easier way to make a tag list?!#dp demi-god au
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three — have to be
mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader
⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to.
when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.
previous — masterlist — next
word count. 2.5k
content. profanity, college kids being stupid, some angsty feels
Contrary to popular belief, college isn’t that different from high school. No one magically matures overnight and goes from being a snot-nosed brat to a sophisticated adult. Try as you might, it just isn’t the way things go.
College is essentially just high school on steroids. The cliques are more exclusive, padded with unwritten rules and covert acts of initiation. Bullies are more subtle, if not more vicious. And the gossip? Well, the gossip is just as venomous, and news spreads just as fast.
Today’s item of interest is one for the books: The big breakup between the campus crush and the golden boy who bagged her. How they ended things rather abruptly. And how they’re both already dating different people only three weeks later.
“Apparently, you cheated on him,” Nobara tells you, pulling out the lollipop she has in her mouth. “Or you cheated on him. It depends on who you ask.”
“I heard that you were sleeping with a professor,” Maki says.
You frown at her, adjusting your bag on your shoulders. “Yaga?”
“No.” She grins. “Gakuganji.”
You gag at the thought. Which sicko came up with that? Probably Kento, you think. The prick.
The three of you are on your way to a meeting for a pre-law society you joined back in your first year. You’re not quite sure you want to be a lawyer and Maki’s made it clear that she’s just in it for the parties, but as Nobara says, it’s for the connections.
A lot of college has felt like a complete scam to you, if you’re being honest. The classes are fine enough and you occasionally meet interesting people, but for the most part, you’re well-aware that everyone here’s either just coasting or trying to one-up one another. You can’t complain though. In the end, you’re a part of it all.
“I heard something interesting though,” Nobara says, and there’s a dangerous tone in her voice that has you crawling out of your skin. “More than a few people are saying that you’re dating someone new.”
Maki nods, looking at you with a raised brow. “I heard that too.”
“Someone from the business department apparently,” Nobara adds. “Someone you’re incredibly close with.”
You swallow as your two friends turn to you for an answer to their accusations. You and Sukuna made your sham relationship ���official” just a few days ago and you haven’t had the time to tell either of them about it. If you’re being honest, you’ve been avoiding the topic for as long as humanly possible because you already know what they’re going to say about the whole thing.
It’s one thing for you to be friends with him despite their clear dislike of him, it’s an entirely different thing to be dating him. To the public’s knowledge at least.
“I was going to tell you guys about that,” you say quietly.
Nobara gapes, dropping her lollipop on the ground. “You’re fucking with us.”
“Before you say anything—”
“Holy shit!” Maki exclaims. She stops in her tracks and grabs your shoulders, shaking you as if to shock some sense into your system. “No. You’re not doing this.”
“I know Satoru fucked you up, but this is not the way to deal,” Nobara tells you. Her arms are flailing around as she tries to get her point across. She probably thinks you’re in too deep, madly in love with the asshole she’s done nothing but warn you about. “Where’s your phone? You’re breaking up with him right now.”
You can’t help but laugh at your friends’ hysterics. Much to their horror.
Maki’s grip on your tightens. “This is serious, babe. It’s not happening.”
“Will you just let me speak?” you say, the laughter shaking your voice. “I’m not dating Sukuna.”
They both let out a sigh of relief.
“But I am pretending to.”
“What kind of fucked up game are you playing?” Maki demands. She’s let go of you now at least. That’s something. “Explain, bitch.”
You roll your eyes and continue walking straight ahead, forcing the two of them to hurry along after you. “It’s just a thing we’re doing,” you say. “It’s basically a joke.”
Nobara groans. “Well, it’s not funny,” she says. “Why are you doing this?”
“I dunno,” you tell her. “I’m petty, I guess.”
They’re clearly displeased with your non-answer. You realize that it was more than ridiculous trying to hide it from them in the first place. There’s really nothing to hide.
“We went to a party over the weekend,” you say. “And Satoru was there… with Kimi.”
Maki purses her lips, but you can tell that she understands. She understands you more than she wants to. She was there with you before the breakup, she saw how much the whole thing had been weighing on you, and she was there immediately after it happened. She saw just how badly the whole thing wrecked you. She knows that you’re being stupid, but she also knows you.
It’s Nobara who scowls and shakes her head. It’ll take more than that to convince her.
“So?” she says. “Then date one of the many guys who throw themselves at your feet. Or get a girl! You’re due for a girl. Pick literally anyone else but him.”
You chuckle at her insistence, draping your arm over her shoulder and squeezing her against you. “I don’t want anything real right now,” you tell her. “All those people want a real relationship that I’m just not ready for, and they don’t deserve to be led on. Besides, Sukuna’s the only one I trust to do something this stupid with.”
“See, that’s how I know you’re fucked in the head,” she says. “You cannot trust a guy like Sukuna. He’s an ass.”
“He’s also my best friend.”
Nobara hangs her head at that. “You know, I wish I’d met you sooner,” she tells you. “Then, I would’ve gotten you away from that asshole before he got his fangs in.”
“I know him,” you say, leaning your head against her. “You gotta trust me on this.”
She wraps her arm around your waist and holds you tight for a moment, then sighs. “If he tries anything stupid though, I will kill him.”
“I’ll help,” Maki says. She goes in front of you, walking backwards so she can keep her eyes on yours. “You’re sure about this?”
You nod, reaching your hand out to grab hers. “I’m sure,” you say. “And it’s only for a month. I’ll probably be ready to move onto something real by then.”
The meeting has been going on for hours. They’re not usually this bad when all you have to talk about is a fundraiser or a seminar or a statement against the school administration or something menial like that. But the agenda today is loaded.
The trip.
The big trip that everyone in the society always gets worked up over. It’s the big event of the year, a weekend where the whole group goes somewhere new and gets completely wasted.
It isn’t enough that you do charity work or contribute to the campus life like any other club would. It isn’t enough that you all see each other on a weekly basis to party at someone’s house or head to a bar together. To truly make the “connections” that Nobara speaks of, you have to relocate everyone to a beach or camp in the mountains or get locked together in a cabin in the woods.
It’s for bonding, they say. But with how everyone’s arguing right now, you’re almost worried that the whole group is just going to end up hating each other. Just another part of the college experience as they say.
“We are not going to an active volcano for our trip,” Utahime says. “It’s stupid and, honestly, not fun at all.”
Mahito huffs at that. “What’s more fun than knowing that we could die at any moment?” he asks like it’s a completely normal thing to say. “You guys just want to go to the beach again and that’s boring.”
“Where would we even sleep?” Aoi points out.
Utahime nods and looks at Mahito with venom in her eyes. “Exactly.”
“As if anyone sleeps on these trips anyway.”
You raise your hand. “I vote against the volcano.”
“So where would you have us go?” Mahito asks. “Kento’s house?”
The man in question scoffs. “As if I would ever let you in my house.”
“I think the beach is fine,” Nobara says. “We always have fun there anyway.”
“We went there last year though,” you say against your better judgment. When Nobara looks at you like, How are you not siding with me on this? You mouth a quick “sorry.” Then, “Camping’s fun.”
“Bugs,” Mahito.
“Oh, and you think there isn’t anything gross on a volcano?” Utahime.
“What about Aoi’s cabin?” Kento.
“My dad just sold it.” Aoi.
“I vote beach.” Maki.
“Thank you!” Nobara.
The conversation goes round and round. Everyone has an opinion, everyone has something to say, everyone has something they don’t like or don’t want to do. It seems like the whole thing will never end.
“Ski trip,” you say suddenly. The room goes silent. “We’ve never been before, and it’s doable. The budget’s pretty good this year. I think we could swing it.”
Everyone looks at Kento, the keeper of the books, as he turns to his laptop to crunch the numbers. After a moment of typing, he looks up and nods.
“It’ll have to be after the children’s rights fundraiser though,” he says. “We have to make sure we can make the downpayment on the hall for the kids, but after that…”
Everyone looks at Utahime now, the club president who has the final word on everything. “Fine,” she says eventually. “Ski trip it is.”
There’s a round of “finally”s and “fuck yeah”s and patting each other on the back for a job well-done.
“Now, about the children’s rights fundraiser,” Utahime says. “We should really start planning that.”
Everyone groans and there’s eventually a call for a five-minute break.
“We should really kick Mahito out at this point,” Nobara whispers to you as she rests her head on the table. “He doesn’t even do his job half of the time.”
You pat her head and laugh. “He’s harmless,” you tell her, getting up from your seat. “I’m gonna go pee.”
“I’ll come,” Maki says, following you out the door.
The two of you link your hands together and swing them wildly as you make your way to the restroom, a habit you two formed in freshman year when you refused to be suffocated by the crowds of people going from classroom to classroom. Despite seeming like two completely different kinds of people on the surface, the two of you are just menaces at heart. It’s why you’re such good friends.
As you approach the restroom, you can hear a group of girls talking loudly inside.
“Locker room talk,” Maki says, wiggling her eyebrows at you with a smirk on her lips.
You snort, the voices becoming clearer now.
“You’re so lucky.”
“Is he good in bed?”
“He’s lucky to have you.”
“You guys are so embarrassing.”
You stop in your tracks. The last voice is so familiar, terrifyingly so. It’s a voice you’ve heard from a few feet away. In front of you in a line. In the back of a classroom. On the court, counting out the timing for the next steps of the cheerdance.
“He’s really sweet though,” the voice says. “Just this morning, he showed up at my dorm with a bunch of flowers. He said he got them ‘just because.’”
Maki is watching you with concern, confused by why you’ve suddenly stopped moving, why your breath has seemed to hitch in your throat.
Just because.
A bouquet of now-wilted flowers on your kitchen counter. A teddy bear from a carnival tucked beneath your bed. A tennis racket you made him swear not to buy that showed up in your locker one morning before practice. Just because.
The restroom door swings open and four girls walk out. One of them—
“Kimi.”
The name slips from your mouth before you even realize it. You want the earth to swallow you whole at this moment. For the current to drag you under. For the heavens to crack open.
The girl looks at you with wide eyes. Guilt, you can tell. Pity.
She says your name this time. “Hi,” she says a little nervously. “How are you?”
Just like Maki, her friends watch the situation unfold from a careful distance. Will one of you lunge at the other? Will you pretend to be the best of friends? Should they come closer? Should they stay back?
“I’m doing well,” you tell her. The voice that comes out of you doesn’t feel like your own. You only realize now that you’re smiling. There’s a hint of smugness to it, a hint of callousness, cruelty. “I take it you and Satoru are going strong.”
She seems to catch your tone. Unintentional of course, but she doesn’t know that. All trepidation seems to leave her body, replaced by a similar coldness. “Yeah, we are,” she says. “I hear you and Sukuna are an item now.”
You try not to cringe at the implication. You’ve traded Satoru, the golden boy, for Sukuna, the bad idea. No point regretting it now.
“Yeah,” you say. End this now, you think. “Well, Maki and I have a meeting to get back to.”
“Oh, sure,” she says sweetly, stepping out of your way. Her friends follow suit. “See you around.”
You take Maki’s hand and wave at the girl as she passes by. “See you.”
The two of you walk into the restroom and let the door close behind you. You’re looking at each other now, breathing deeply as you hear the girls outside walk away.
“That was fucking insane,” Maki finally says.
“Tell me about it.”
You both burst out laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation. It’s not a big deal, if you’re thinking logically, seeing your ex’s new girlfriend in a restroom. You all go to the same school, it’s not like you can avoid each other. Still, the whole thing brings out a viciousness in you that you can’t quite control, one that’s always ridiculous in hindsight.
You go into the bathroom stalls, still laughing.
“You were so cold,” Maki tells you from the stall beside you. “I was so proud, you wouldn’t believe it.”
“I was mean!” you exclaim. You groan as you reach for the toilet paper. “She’s so telling him about that.”
“No way. It’d be embarrassing.”
You pull your pants up and head out to wash your hands in the sink, waiting for Maki to finish. “She knows about Sukuna.”
“Yeah,” she says. “How do you feel about that?”
“Humiliated.”
She steps out of the stall and washes her hands in the sink beside yours. “You still think the whole pretend-dating thing is worth it?”
You shrug, crossing your arms over your chest. “What’s done is done,” you tell her. “Sunk cost, baby.”
Maki dries her hand and looks at you seriously now. “Are you okay?”
Just because.
The words echo in your head. Words that have only ever been spoken to you now tainted by her voice.
“No,” you tell her. When she looks at you with furrowed brows, all you can do is shrug. “But I’ll have to be.”
notes. a little insight into reader's student life and bit of her bitchy side 👀 these chapters are getting longer than i'm used to lmao i fear the plot is getting away from me and just dragging me along for the ride at this point
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"We've Seen The Devil—He Was Hiding In The Mirror."
Part I Part II Part III
Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Twisted Wonderland Various x Reader, Self Aware AU, Yandere TWST
Synopsis: The second oath revealed, a new character appeared.
Word count: 3k.
Includes: Obsessive and possessive behavior, PTSD, nightmares
"You are no savior—nor purpose nor God. You are damnation—a phony and fraud."
--------------
You flip to the first page and begin reading.
Entry 001: Names.
The Ramshackle Ghosts have informed me that they do not have names. Or, more accurately, that they have long since forgotten them. Grim says it is peculiar for someone to not have a name. I will have to trust his judgment on this.
Entry 003: You.
Grim asked about you today. I, quite unfortunately, did not have much to tell him. Or rather, there was not much I was allowed to tell him. Whenever I try to speak your name out loud, my lips firmly close, like a flower blossom at night.
When we are alone, you are all that he asks about. Not that I blame him for it, of course; I am just as curious as he. The ghosts are strange, though: they have never once asked about you. Perhaps they simply do not understand.
Entry 005:
Grim has revealed the truth of your existence to Heartslyabull. It was an accident, of course, but even so, I gave him a rather stern talking-to. They have directed all of their attention onto you. It’s true that I did not exactly like being on the receiving end of their “affections”, but at the very least I did not have to share you with anyone.
Entry 015: Fate.
I've been thinking more about names lately. Everyone seems to have one. I am no different. My name, Yuu, indicates that I am a stand-in for someone else. A blank slate for you to imprint upon. The others have similar names. Each one is an indication of our role. With just the names, you can figure us out. Are all names like this? Is each person's fate dictated by their name?
What about yours? Your name is different. Your name is not a play on words, nor a foreshadowing of things yet to come. Your name says nothing. You are simply yourself.
You are the only thing real in this world. You are the only thing who is not bound by the threads of fate.
Entry 017: Love.
I had a very interesting conversation with the Heartslyabul students today. It was about you, obviously—for, what topic besides you could ever possibly be interesting? I had asked them about what they felt for you (rather accusatively, if we are being honest here. After all, how could they possibly feel anything, when they are nothing but code?) They responded that they felt love. Naturally, I had been expecting this answer, however, something about the way they said it made me pause. Perhaps it was the matter-of-factness of it all that caught me by surprise. They answered my query in the same tone of voice one would use to say that the sun will rise in the East and set in the West, or that the sky is always blue except for evenings and mornings.
They said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. They said it as if they believed no other answer could possibly exist. I do not believe them to be worthy of your gaze, but even so, they have earned my respect.
Entry 020: Real.
Some of those worthless NPCs doubt your existence. It is of little consequence, however, for your influence is all too real. Even those maggots cannot deny that much. You have changed this world without ever once stepping foot in it.
Entry 027: Devil.
The characters you love are a complete mess because of you. They stretch themselves thin trying to win your affection. They pull all-nighters, throwing themselves into researching to bring you over to them. They destroy themselves when you’re away, and they ruin each other when you are here.
They claim you are their savior—their purpose. Because of that, they put you on a pedestal. They worship you as if you are some god. But you are no god. You are its reverse.
You are a devil.
But don’t fret, my dear [Name], for I still love you all the same. When the others learn of your true nature they may abandon you, but I will always be there.
You slam the book shut.
“Hasn’t anyone told you that it’s rude to go through another person’s things?” Your surprise registers in your mind, but your body does not react. You do not flinch, though all of your senses are screaming at you to move. You recognize this person immediately, their silhouette is illuminated by the moon’s glow behind them. You had seen them before, but this is different. You are not just seeing the body, colorless and without soul—you are seeing the person. Now, you had seen their thoughts, their hopes, you had heard their voice.
“Yuu…” Your voice trails off. You have nothing to say. What could you say?
“[Name]...” They echo, voice eerily similar to yours. They smile at you—and what a smile it is! It is the kind of smile you only see in portraits. It is cheerful yet mysterious. Cunning yet serene. It is the kind of smile that betrays nothing of the smiler’s intentions. Pretty does not even begin to describe it. They are not just beautiful—they are beauty itself.
Instinctively, you step back, unaccustomed to being on the receiving end of such an intense gaze. They close the distance easily. Before you can even blink, their nose is almost touching yours. You can feel their heartbeat on your chest as they reach behind you, hand slithering across your arm. Goosebumps rise on the skin where they touched you and linger even after they take the journal and step back. You think, for a second, that your response is out of attraction, only to realize faintly that you are afraid. It is the way they look at you, you think. Their gaze could be compared to that of a predator stalking its pray.
The only difference being that no predator would dare make its intentions quite so clear.
They are still donning that smile of theirs. Only now it is wider, crueler. It vanishes as soon as it appears, leaving you to wonder if perhaps it was nothing more than your imagination all along. “Goodnight [Name],” they say, although it is far too late to properly be considered night, you suppose the distinction is not very important.
After all, they have already left.
———
Grim is standing over you. It is morning, you realize. The rendezvous from last night sits in the forefront of your head as Grim goes on about something or another. You are only able to catch the last part of what he is saying. ”Ya' got some wellness packages from the students—and letters. A lot of letters."
Great.
You step into your house slippers (when did you get those?) and head downstairs. Honestly, you were not expecting much. A few baskets with candy and first aid, get-well-soon cards and maybe, maybe a teddy bear—if they were really splurging.
It’s like you were born yesterday. Of course it would turn out like this. Didn’t you see the offering room? And that was before they even had a reason to send you gifts.
A mountain of gifts looms over you, casting a large and foreboding shadow across the dorm. Just looking at the giant amalgamation of well-wishes and apologies has you feeling overwhelmed. It takes you a few long seconds to gather the courage and determination needed to move it all indoors, luckily, you have Grim to help you with that (although, inexplicably, some of them had already made it inside even without the two of you). It is around the time you are dragging the fourth package indoors that you wish you had more people to help.
Actually…
“Hey, Grim?”
“Yeah?”
“Where are the ghosts?” Grim pauses. Then, with a nonchalance completely unbefitting of the situation at hand, he replies:
“Dunno. They’ve been missing ever since Yuu shut down.”
“Excuse me?” Grim shrugs. “Three people go missing, right as a fourth turns black and white, and your response is to just…shrug it off?” Grim, at the very least, has the decency to look a little embarrassed at this. He tucks his ears flat against his head. Avoiding eye contact, his eyes dart around the room, likely looking for an excuse to change the subject.
Grim picks up a letter from a pile. “Here! Why don’tcha read this one?” You take the letter from his hand, rather unimpressed with his attempt to fool you, but willing to look the other way for now. After all, suspicious as it is, the ghosts’ disappearance really has nothing to do with you.
“This one’s from Riddle,” you say, turning the envelope around in your hands. It’s white with a red rose seal. The address has been penned impeccably in red ink. The others in the pile are not nearly as fancy as this one, but they each follow the same formula. You suppose there must be a rule about letter-sending.
You glance over at the other piles. Each has their own quirks that distinguish them from the rest.
Pristine white envelopes with red seals and red ink, courtesy of Heartslyabul.
Kraft paper envelopes tied together with string, “from Savanaclaw” penned plainly in black ink.
Grayish blue wrapped gifts with letters laid neatly on top, no doubt from Octavinelle.
Scarlet envelopes with what you suspect to be actual golden seals—an elephant and a scarab, surely from Scarabia.
Royal purple with silver encasings, long elegant calligraphy giving away its Pomefiore origins (although, one letter is drawn more sloppily than the others, you notice).
Most uniquely of all, a tablet that appears to function solely as a voice recorder, ready to be played at any moment, surely something one can only find in Ignihyde.
Gothic-style calligraphy and black envelopes with green seals, unquestioningly from Diasomnia.
You stare at the baskets of letters for a while, debating yourself on whether the energy of opening and reading each letter would be worth the effort. You decide that no, you’d rather not go through the ordeal, and instead, opt to stand up and stretch your legs, only to end up right back on the floor, reading through the letters you had just sworn to avoid.
You really are hopeless, huh?
———
“That’s the last one,” you say, tossing the letter aside and flopping down to lay flat on the floor. Getting through all of them had taken you hours, despite only having skimmed them.
“Jeez, they’re really persistent.” You nod, or you try to. It's actually rather difficult to make the nodding motion while lying down, but Grim seems to understand your sentiment, regardless. Your mind feels hazy; your vision is starting to blur. Perhaps you ended up straining yourself. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to rest your eyes, just for a moment.
You must have drifted off, because when you came to, you were on a couch, and not the floor. Just as well, you suppose, lying on hardwood for too long would hardly be comfortable.
"Morning!" You feel a weight on your chest as your eyes shoot open. Yuu is laying on top of you, head resting on their hands and elbows digging into your ribs. Their face is entirely too close. You open your mouth to speak, but the words never leave your body.
"Aw, I know you've got a lot to say to me, but it looks like we'll have to cut this conversation short. You seem to be waking up," they say, gracefully getting up and walking out of sight.
"Wait hold on—!"
———
"—Wait, Yuu!" Your eyes shoot open as a feeling of Dejá Vu washes over your body.
"Hey, hey! Myah! Calm down!" A familiar weight settles on your chest as Grim stands over you, watching your expression worriedly.
"I guess I must have dozed off. Sorry, Grim."
"You okay? You were screamin' bloody murder."
"Just a bad dream. I'm fine." Grim doesn't look entirely convinced, but doesn't seem interested in pressing the issue.
"You were screamin' about Yuu. Speaking of…where are they, anyways?"
“What do you mean?” You ask, a feeling of unease creeping its way into your stomach.
“They’re not in the bedroom anymore. So, where’dja put ‘em?”
“I…thought you moved them?” You bolt up the second that Grim shakes his head, frantically running around in search of something you know does not exist.
You are searching for the library.
It is then, as you are running, that something peculiar catches your attention.
It is a door. Now, that on its own is not at all a concern. There are doors everywhere, but this door…this door is different. This door is not supposed to be there. This is a door you have opened before. It is distinct from all the others—this door leads to the library. It was exactly the thing you had been searching for, and yet, now, standing in front of it, you hesitate.
Your shoulders tense as you stare at the door. You look at it as if you are waiting for it to jump out and frighten you. But it does no such thing. It is, after all, nothing more than a simple door. This knowledge does nothing to lay your anxiety to rest. If anything, it only amplifies the growing pit in your stomach.
You gather up as much courage as you can muster and twist the doorknob, even if only to lay your unease to rest. It is unfortunate, then, that your unease only grew upon entering. The door disappears behind you, and a feeling of dread crawls from you, emanating out in waves.
This room isn’t supposed to exist—but you are very much here.
“Come to read?” Yuu’s disembodied voice calls out to you. You silently scan the library for any signs of life. You find nothing. Perhaps there is nothing to find. “Looking for something?” You whip around, Yuu now standing behind you. They are smiling. It is that same cruel, bewitching smile from last night. Your throat feels dry. You are shaking.
“You must have really missed me. We were only apart for a few minutes, you know?”
“What is this place?”
“I call it the Wraith. I don’t know exactly how it works, only that it has something to do with the subconscious. I came here when I shut down, and you come here whenever you lose touch with reality. It’s really fascinating stuff.”
Lose touch with reality? As you ponder over Yuu’s words, images of your previous visits float through your mind.
And just like that, you are alone. It takes a moment for the realization to sink in on you: you are alone. And it is by your own doing, no less. What a terrifying lapse in judgment! What an egregious oversight!
Grim is standing over you. It is morning, you realize.
Your mind feels hazy; your vision is starting to blur. Perhaps you ended up straining yourself. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to rest your eyes, just for a moment.
You are searching for the library.
“But you know,” Yuu’s voice pulls you away from your thoughts. “a room like this doesn't just pop into existence. Someone has to make it.”
“And in order to make it, something has to be sacrificed.” They take two steps closer, and you take four steps back. It isn’t long before you are running out of space to hide. It isn’t long before your back is pressed to the wall, with their hands to either side of your head.
“Want to know something funny?” They cock their head to the side as you stare at them, their grin only widening when you remain silent. “When I first shut down, everyone thought that something was wrong with me. But, really? I felt better than ever. It was like I was awake for the first time in my life. I was aware the whole time, I could hear everything. I saw the whole hunt, you know?” You are so still that you are not even breathing. When Yuu steps back, you suck in a breath and sink to the floor. They pay it little mind and continue on with their story.
“Of course, I hated to see you so mistreated—but even so, I was a little glad. You finally saw them for who they really were, and I finally got to see you for who you really were. It was beyond frustrating, you know? Watching you get kicked around by filthy, vile creatures that could never be deserving of you.”
“Although, I suppose it was you who made them that way, wasn’t it? You’ve ruined them, you know?” The aura they’re emitting is nigh unbearable. Your body is screaming at you to run, but the fear has rendered you deaf. They smile. That same damned smile. Your breath hitches. Images replay in your mind as your head swirls
The mouth widens as storm clouds gather and swirl around you. Dancing around in a cruel ballet. Thunder cracks in the distance as acidic rain hits and sears through your skin. The flowers turn to gravestones, and the songbirds begin to scream in human voices. Thorny vines reach up and take hold of your limbs, cutting through your flesh and bones as if they were made of nothing more than paper.
You are already halfway to being buried alive when you realize you’re being pulled in. Desperately, you try to claw your way out of the soil that threatens to swallow you into its suffocating embrace, but it's of no use. It isn’t long before you can no longer fight back. It isn’t long before you—
“You…what are you? You’re not…human.”
“Does it matter what I am?”
“It does.”
“Then just call me yours.” They hold out a hand to you, urging you to take it. “I know that your presence ruins people, but I don’t mind.”
“Because I love you.”
#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere twst#yandere vil schoenheit#yandere riddle rosehearts#yandere x reader#yandere cater diamond#yandere trey clover#yandere ace trappola#yandere duece spade#yandere azul ashengrotto#yandere floyd leech#yandere jade leech#yandere jamil viper#yandere jack howl#yandere leona kingscholar#yandere ruggie bucchi#yandere kalim al asim#yandere rook hunt#yandere epel felmier#yandere idia shroud#yandere malleus draconia#yandere sebek zigvolt#yandere silver#yandere lilia vanrouge
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Hello! Could you possibly write König and Ghost (separately) x a stoner reader who’s just faded 99% of the time? You can make it NSFW if you’d like! Please and thank uu! Have a nice day/night!!
Ahhh this is actually so cute to me!
(A/N sorry about not getting around to answering a lot of these this whole month has been very crazy for me but I am trying to answer them as soon as possible!!)
I'm going to do nsfw and sfw with both of these! And the reader is fem!
Simon "Ghost" Riley
SFW
- Simon smokes with you, his doctor prescribed him some for medical purposes, to help with his insomnia so he understands why you smoke!
- He thinks it's a fun way to bond with you, and you two have such deep conversations when you're both stoned as shit 💀
- Simon always orders pizza and takeout whenever you two start smoking, and he also has a snack drawer in your bedroom or near your smoke spot!
- speaking of smoke spot, at Simon's house he has a sun room he always drinks his tea or coffee in whenever he wakes up, or whenever he smokes, and he let you decorate the entire room however you wanted whenever he figured out how adamant you were about smoking!
- He is very caring with you whenever you're the only one smoking though, he coddles you and makes sure you're not paranoid or having a bad time! He's a sweetie.
NSFW
- It took a lot of convincing to do anything sexual with him while you're high, he just doesn't want something to happen without you being fully aware of it
- however, he absolutely loves it when you go down on him when you're stoned, apparently something about the weed makes your gag reflex disappear, and you can take him all the way down your throat
- whenever you're high, you also have a hard time understanding when he's sensitive or overstimulated, and you make him cum at least three times, and you leave him a mess.
- he's whining and moaning, gripping the sheets and stuttering pleas to stop, but he wants nothing more than you to keep overstimulating him
- you're also very good at aftercare with him, you let him share your blunt, and you both take a nice hot bath and after you cuddle in bed and watch your favorite show or movie while eating your delivery food
Konig
SFW
- Konig gets quite upset when he first finds out you smoke, but only because he never actually knew the benefits of it.
- all he knew was what his parents and teachers said about it, he thought you'd grow horns or get a mutation or something like that, but when you told him all the benefits, he was cool about it
- now Konig himself doesn't smoke, but he knows the signs of when you smoke, the smell, your demeanor and how clingy and sweet you are
- He also keeps snacks for you, in his backpack he has a designated pouch for chips and sweets when you get hungry, and an extra chilled water bottle in case you have a coughing fit!
- He also has an entire drawer dedicated to snacks for you, he has some comfy clothes for you in his dresser, some of your 'smoking gadgets' in his nightstand and whatever else you may need!
- you let Konig smoke once, and he coughed so hard you thought he was going to have a heart attack, so instead you bought some edibles for him to try, and he was into them, but only takes them when his anxiety is bad or when he's going to be around too many people.
(in my eyes, I don't think Konig could do anything sexual with you if you were high, but I will indulge your fantasies anyway 🙏🏻)
NSFW
- Konig is normally very rough with you during sex, because you do like it that way, but whenever you're stoned he's very gentle
- He doesn't go too hard unless you deliberately ask, and he definitely cums too fast, only because you're very...open when you're under the influence
- you admit to him how hot and sweet he is, and how his arms are just so veiny and big, and his eyes practically roll back into his head at the obscene squelching and moans that leave your lips
- you're not very vocal normally during sex, but when you're high, he's sure only porn actresses make the noises you make.
- Konig is an aftercare god, running you a bath and cooing to you how well you've done, and for the sake of it, hits a blunt once because he knows how badly you like to share with him.
#call of duty mw2#konig call of duty#konig x reader#konig#könig x reader#konig fanfiction#könig#könig cod#könig smut#konig smut#konig cod#ghost cod#cod mw2#ghost call of duty#call of duty#ghost x reader#ghost smut#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost#ghost x könig x reader#könig mw2
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caught myself [K.Bishop]
pairing: kate bishop x reader
summary: kate's competitiveness gets in the way of her seeing you for who you truly are.
warnings: technically none?; idiots in love; kate technically does knock R on their ass but no one gets hurt; yelena being an awful wingman; kate's sad puppy dog eyes; me feeling rusty af after writing so many serious essays
wordcount: 1.6k
a/n: me writing something else instead of focusing on the large pile of requests i still haven't gotten to? yeah, it's more likely than you think. i'll try to get into a somewhat normal posting schedule at some point if uni ever stops kicking my butt BUT FOR NOW, enjoy what was supposed to be a valentine's day special. also, don't worry, kissing in the crossfire part two WILL be happening!
* * * * * * *
You’re not sure what’s worse, being the newest member of the Young Avengers or being the member with the most obvious crush possible. It’s like the universe didn’t think you had enough difficulties getting used to life with your new team, it also thought you needed to juggle having the biggest crush on one of your teammates simultaneously.
Because fighting criminals daily isn’t hard enough, right?
You had tried your hardest to keep your massive crush on a certain purple-loving archer a secret but your plan had gone out the window the second Yelena figured out the hidden feelings behind your lingering stares. To say she didn’t understand your fascination with Kate Bishop would be an understatement but at least she tried to help…in her own, weirdly aggressive, way.
Her help mainly included making ridiculous comments at your expense. Comments that went completely over Kate’s head every single time and only led to awkward silences and unanswerable questions.
You thought the Russian was on her way to giving up and letting you handle your love life problems on your own but of course, when has Yelena given up an opportunity to embarrass someone she cares about?
It’s exactly Yelena’s love of embarrassing you that’s forced you into a situation you wouldn’t be able to get out of if you tried: sparring with the purple archer herself.
Training in the same room as Kate is already bad enough, especially considering her habit of wearing gray sweatpants and a tight purple cropped shirt, but having to spar with her? While she looks that good? And she has that stupid smirk on her face because she knows she’s going to win?
Nothing you could do could stop you from looking like a goddamn fool.
And that’s exactly what you look like right now.
It’s not bad enough that you can’t concentrate enough to anticipate her punches, you also don’t even know where to look because all of her is so damn attractive. It’s impressive and annoying all at the same time and it’s unfortunately taking up too much of your brain space right now.
You’re acutely aware of Yelena’s disapproving looks but you’re even more aware of the constant glares Kate throws in between rapid punches. Your brain may not be working well enough for you to spar correctly but if there’s one thing you can do, it’s dodge…which only infuriates the archer.
“Will you quit moving?” She huffs, only barely stopping her lips from forming a frustrated pout.
“What else am I supposed to do? Let you punch me?” You reply.
“That’d be a good start, yeah.”
“Ladies, quit chattering!”
You know Yelena is being annoying on purpose to get on your nerves but that doesn’t stop you from turning to glare at her. Your mouth barely begins to form around the complaints you want to hurl at her when Kate takes her opportunity.
It’s technically cheating, and it’s incredibly advantageous, but she’s not thinking about any of that. All she wants is to win and she doesn’t think twice. She swipes her leg under both of yours, catching you by surprise and instantly sending you crashing down onto the hard ground.
You don’t get a second to react before the back of your head makes contact with the floor. Large black spots fill your vision as Yelena starts throwing out curses at the startled archer. You barely make out the outline of Kate’s worried face before your eyes slip shut and darkness overcomes you.
You don’t know how much time goes by, or how many times Kate gets scolded in increasingly more aggressive Russian, all you know is that when you wake up…you’re not alone.
Your first instinct when your eyes open again is to sit up but a gentle hand pushes you back down before you get too far. “Don’t try to move, you’re gonna get a killer headache. Trust me.”
“Oh, I’m supposed to trust you after you knocked me on my ass?” You huff. It makes you sound more like a kid throwing a tantrum than an angry Avenger but you don’t really care.
“We were sparring, what else was I supposed to do?”
You don't notice the small grin that accompanies her recycled words, too upset and embarrassed about getting your ass handed to you by someone who's too lost in her own world to notice how much you like her.
“What else was I supposed to do?” You mock her. “Did you try not being a jerk?”
“That’s not fair. You’re the one who ignores me all the time but I’m the jerk here?”
Her words don’t catch you as off guard as the look on her face. You’re expecting to see flashes of the arrogant archer most of your teammates claim exists behind the usual warmth Kate so easily radiates. Instead of anger or arrogance, though, you come face to face with the most overdramatic pout you’ve ever seen.
And you suddenly understand why people say there’s a fine line between love and hate. Because it would be easy to think Kate Bishop is the most annoying person in the world if you didn’t also think she’s the most adorable person you’ve ever met…despite the constant ease with which she turns everything into an argument.
“What are you even talking about?”
“You don’t like me! And you don’t even try to hide it!”
All you can do is stare at her and wonder how the world’s greatest archer also happens to be the world’s most oblivious person. “You’re an idiot, Katherine.”
Her eyebrows crinkle in disgust but you’re pretty sure it has more to do with your use of her legal first name than the insult you push her way. “You sound like my mom.”
“You’re not helping your case.”
She opens her mouth to reply in an instant, a half-formed stupid sentence already forming on the tip of her tongue. You’re expecting yet another unnecessary argument to break out. Yet another reason for you to give up on all your attempts to build a bridge of thoughtful actions and sweet words that will lead you to who Kate truly is under the mask she so effortlessly wears around everyone else.
You’ve learned to expect anything from Kate Bishop. Especially the unexpected.
“I know. I’m sorry.” She adds the tiniest smile and most awkward shrug you’ve ever seen to her soft-spoken apology.
“What did you just say?” You ask, wondering if you hit your head hard enough to be imagining this whole interaction.
“You heard me,” she replies but her tone carries more traces of embarrassment than the cockiness you’re used to. “You’re right, I’m an idiot.”
You’re left dumbstruck, waiting for the other shoe to drop. There’s no way the archer can say those words without some sort of snarky comment coming after it. So you wait. Watching her with curious eyes that only fuel the nervousness bubbling underneath her carefree posture.
It’s strange to realize how little you genuinely know about her. Having a crush on her has ironically been the easiest part of everything. Sure, it’s awkward and annoying and ridiculous but believing you understand her is easier than accepting the fact that Kate’s never let you in.
So why would she start now?
“Are you going to say something?” The subtle crack in her voice reveals the truth she’s trying to hide behind her usual smirk.
There are so many things you want to say but you’re still a little lightheaded and the sudden change in her attitude toward you isn’t helping you keep yourself in check. “I like your smile.”
“Oh.”
You could easily dismiss her reaction as indifferent if it weren’t for the pink hue emerging across her cheeks. It’s subtle and warm and…real. Like her. And it suddenly dawns on you that you’ve never seen Kate Bishop flustered before.
Especially not from one of your compliments. It’s different…and you really like it.
“Can I ask you something, Kate?”
She looks away from you for a second, almost as if she’s scared of what you might say. Of the possibilities that lie in your unspoken feelings. “Sure, yeah, go ahead.”
Your mouth begins to form one of the many questions you’ve wanted to ask the archer since you met her but then her eyes find yours again and you get a glimpse into the fear-filled storm inside their depths.
It’s subtle but the armor made from cocky grins and imperfectly timed jokes begins to crack.
Which means there’s no way you’re going to spring such a loaded question on her just yet. As much as you’d love an answer to the one thing that’s been haunting you since you realized your true feelings for her, there’s no way you’d force her when it’s clear it’s been far too long since she’s let herself be vulnerable around someone.
So, you settle for the only thing you need right now: her.
“Can you stay with me?” You do your best to ignore the warmth that spreads along your face as the words slip out of your mouth. “Yelena doesn’t have the best bedside manner.”
A beat of silence goes by before her lips form a genuine smile. “Yeah, I can do that.”
Her eyes nervously flick around the room in search of somewhere to sit. You watch her for a few seconds before putting her out of her anxious misery.
“Kate…” You trail off, doing your best to hold in your laughter as you pat the empty space beside you. “You can sit here, I won’t bite.”
Your words are all it takes for her nervousness to turn back into her usual goofiness. “Really? That’s not what I’ve heard…”
“So you do talk shit about me!”
#kate bishop x reader#kate bishop x female reader#kate bishop x y/n#kate bishop x you#kate bishop fic#kate bishop fanfiction#kate bishop#kate bishop fluff#hawkeye#hawkeye fanfic#hailee steinfeld#marvel fanfiction#marvel fic#marvel#mcu imagine#mcu fanfiction#wlw#wlw fic#writing
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an: this is a reupload!! (copy and paste pain) because for some reason my original post wasn’t showing up on the tags?? even my own??? if this doesn’t show up again i’m just gonna leave it as is. also the og’s who saw the post before i took it down are the real ones <3 anyways, requests are closed but i took this as a suggestion because i wanted to do it. when i saw this in my inbox i felt productive/determined to fulfill this ask so you're welcome /Ih and holy shit 2k+ notes on part one you guys are crazy thank you so much i'm so glad you liked it!! you take care of yourself as well dear anon <3
‘i've got my eye on you.’ (pt. 2)
prompt: what would they do if they saw their s/o in an uncomfortable situation
characters: itto, diluc, zhongli, ayato, tartaglia, thoma, kaeya
style: fluff, much fluff
notes: not proofread, lowercase intended, possibly ooc because i used character demos/teasers/ a few voicelines as references, gender neutral reader, the smaller text is whispering, no dialogue/use for [name], kuki shinobu mention in itto's part, how tf do you write zhongli and kaeya, petnames: beloved, treasure, love, swearing, blood mention in tartaglia's part, tartaglia getting a little violent, got lazy while writing the last few portions
reblogs are appreciated!
itto
"HEYYYY THERE YOU ARE!! so uh, are these guys bothering you?"
"huh, so they are. hey! hey, no worries! ill getcha outta here. i'm THE arataki numero uno they’re dealing with."
"hey, so, you're making my lovely super amazing wonderful partner uncomfortable and i would absolutely LOVE it if you leave em alone."
"oh wait, they're already gone. OHHHH did i scare them?? HAHAHAAA, man, that was great. totally worth the scare. anyways! want to have an onikabuto battle? yeah? OKAY! come on, come on, come on!!! i know the best spot to find them. but just so you know, i will beat you this time!"
let me tell you itto's was a lot of fun to write. i don't have to write too seriously!!!
he was looking for you actually, to have a little onikabuto battle since he's determined to win. (despite the many losses he has under his belt)
but seeing you look so uneasy from afar, yeah no he's not having it. ran towards you at mach 20.
one simple glance at him, those creeps are running to their mothers. the best part was that itto was confused as to why they've run off but he assumed it was because of him.
well, he's half right, because what really scared them off was kuki shinobu's shadow quite literally appeared out of nowhere next to you and itto. mvp! you guys weren't aware of her presence, because after they ran off, she just walked away. stealthy. like a boss.
i find it canon that if itto has a s/o shinobu would do anything in her power to keep those two away from trouble/danger. it's her job as deputy leader of the arataki gang, right?
diluc
"look, i'm not interested in small talk, but i'll get straight to the point. if you wish to make things simple for the both of us, see yourselves out. i won't ask again."
"what am i going to do about it? well, wouldn't you like to know." (casually readies his claymore)
"what a bunch of imbeciles. *sigh* i apologize for not arriving here sooner, i'll escort you home."
"you. want to stay with me? alright, i'll arrange a room for you at the winery right away. no? ah. i see. then i suppose my bed would big enough for the two of us to sleep on. are you satisfied with that? good. now let's go."
he isn't the darknight hero for nothing
like the gentleman he is, he was going to accompany you until you get home safely and then exchange goodbyes.
but no, you wanted to stay with him for the night. he has many rooms for the guests to use, but when you in particular suggested to sleep with him in his room, he of course doesn't mind since it's you.
should it be anyone else, it'll be an immediate no. so be glad you get to have this privilege from the guy because he loves you and is willing to do anything for you
zhongli
"pardon the intrusion, but i believe now's the time for the both of us to take our leave. please excuse us."
"it'd be wise for you to not place your indelicate hands onto my beloved. lest you'll see a rather.. grotesque, outcome."
"my dear, are you alright? ... how did i find you, you may ask? oh, please do not underestimate me. i'm far more than what meets the eye."
"we are sharing a contract, after all. to live and cherish life with one another until the end of time, to be safe, filled with tenderness and warmth within our hearts, and to not have anyone interfere that great deal of a bond. for you are my greatest treasure."
rip my brain for having to push zhongli's portion out because it clearly cannot comprehend this man's vocabulary.
you and him are to follow a contract, yes. but it's similar to a confession, if that makes sense?
basically zhongli was the one to confess to you first with his built-in thesaurus (to which you accepted of course if you like him too) and then have you and him sign' this sort of contract as a promise to stick with one another for as long as life can allow it. and by sign...
it's a kiss. to seal the contract :)
ayato
"a pity. hm? yes, i am 'the head of the kamisato clan. but your concerns about my reputation is irrelevant."
"you're harassing my lover, and if i catch you doing this unsightly act once again, then i'm afraid i'll have to resort to something that'll make you wish you've never been born."
"ah, my words were too harsh? nonsense, it was vitally necessary. at least it'd driven them away. well, i guess there are benefits for someone of high status."
"come now, i'll have my staff cook you something to your liking. you are my lover, so they'll be sure to suit your needs. you needn't worry."
fun fact: i've never finished ayato's story quest so i was writing this blind (with the help of some voicelines/demos/teasers, this goes along with the rest of the men on this list)
originally, you two were going on a nightly stroll since he was free but were stopped by a group of creeps. however, ayato handled the matter in his way.
in his head, those creeps are a waste of time and mere bugs because, well, they are. and pathetic, because they immediately recognize him for his high status and they all shrank in his presence. which made things easier for ayato. he made a small threat, and then they zoomed.
afterwards, he wanted to bring you home for dinner instead. continuing to stay out after that ordeal was not an option in his book.
what a good man
tartaglia
"wow, you all are quite bold. daring to do that while i'm here? hah, how risky. i'm actually impressed, by how wrong of a move you've just played."
"say, wouldn't you guys be interested for a sparring session? i'll be delighted to fight you all at the same time to enhance my combative capabilities. no? are you sure? okay, the offer's still on the table you know. and don't think i'm letting you all off so easily."
"love, are you alright? did they hurt you? if they did then i'll be sure to give them the same pain as they did to you. but worse. hm? no? okay, if you insist."
"moving on, let's go home shall we? the more i think about those creeps, the more i'm itching to grab my blades and hunt them down. oh! no, it's nothing. let's move, wouldn't want to stay out for too long."
we all know that he'll definitely end them
the thing is, he was right next to you when it happened and it's almost as if those asshats were blind!!!
blinded by his beauty ig
well, those assholes should sleep with one eye open every night now that tartaglia has seen them.
thoma
"excuse me, my partner and i are in a hurry. we have important business to attend to and we wouldn't want to be late."
"we won't take up the rest of your time, so please, if you'll excuse us."
"phew, that was rough. i didn't like how they were treating you, so i wanted to help you out. oh nonono, there's no need to thank me! as your boyfriend, it's my job to make sure that you're safe and happy at all times!"
"to get your mind off of what happened, i'll cook dinner for you tonight. any preferences? favorites? recipes? ill be sure to write them down!"
thoma based
instead of staying and insulting them, he just makes up an excuse to leave! it saves less time!!
..which shunned the creeps to bits. because you see, to me, people who are as kindhearted as thoma are equivalent to sunshine. and by sunshine i mean blindingly bright.
too nice and polite to the point the creeps are blind and deaf, you get what i mean?
kaeya
"well, well, well, how amusing of you all to act in such a way while i'm here. clearly you weren't cautious about your surroundings nor able to understand the differences between common courtesy and disrespect."
"how do i think so? from what you were displaying a few seconds ago, there's an obvious answer to that. it's allill written in your face. uneasiness. just like my partner."
"run along now, before your feet will run cold."
"ah, please, spare me the thanks. i only did what i had to do. as long as you're safe, that's all that matters to me. now then, allow me to treat you to dinner. it's all on me~"
honestly i got very lost in writing kaya's portion despite listening to his voicelines for like 2-3 times :,)
but, what i can conclude from this is that he'll be the sly bro he usually is with people
except in here, it's a bit different. his words are like that of a snake, wrapping around its prey.
makes sense, because kaeya doesn't stand people who make his s/o uncomfortable. if he scares them off or anything, then so be it. anything to keep you safe.
#✏️ lume writes#genshin#genshin impact#genshin x gn reader#genshin x reader#genshin fluff#itto x reader#diluc x reader#zhongli x reader#ayato x reader#tartaglia x reader#childe x reader#thoma x reader#kaeya x reader#itto fluff#diluc fluff#zhongli fluff#tartaglia fluff#thoma fluff#kaeya fluff
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The Unrighteous Knight Part 3
pairing: azriel x second archeron sister!reader
summary: an argument with nesta sends you reeling, so what better place to escape to than your own room? and what worse fate to be bestowed upon you than azriel intruding your solitude?
warning: canon typical violence
word count: 1.2k
a/n: writer's block is a menace and I like crystals so please feel free to send in suggestions for a potentially witchy reader. also, I am experiencing INTENSE throne of glass withdrawals and need something else to latch on to.
Part One Part Two Part Three
What is it to live?
Must one feel to live? Or does life only exist in the fleeting moments of feeling?
Feeling and living. Can someone composed of nothing attain either of the two concepts? Or are life and feeling limited to those composed of something.
You are, in the biological sense, alive.
You bleed red and you bleed often; usually at the hands of yourself, and sometimes by the fury of Azriel.
But what does blood matter in any of this? It signifies you are alive, but fails to determine whether or not you are truly living.
It's a peculiar thing, really.
Living.
Is it meant to be defined, can it be? Or is it just something that is felt, never objectified, only ever theorized?
And can someone filled with nothing live?
Would you be no more than a soul, rotting away in the shell of your lifeforce? Dead in all ways but anatomical?
Is that what you are? A shell, hollow enough for the winds of change to pull back your exterior and expose the monotony that brews within you?
Your answer comes in the form of wake.
Like a rose ripped from its stem and forced into a bouquet, you are plucked from your slumber and presented to the world once again; with the expectation that you live, even though you have long since died.
It’s degrading, really.
It makes you feel like a prop.
You are not y/n Archeron, and you have not been for quite some time. You are the Night Courts underutilized doll, tucked away in a gloomy room and laid across a rose pillared bed.
Adjectives fail to encapsulate your essence, for adjectives require substance. And you are lacking in everything one could possibly possess.
It is questions like this that plague your thoughts, tying you to your bed, holding you hostage from the lives playing out behind your bedroom door. You’d like to believe you lived a more fulfilling life as a human, but you are well aware of the fact that despite the mortal blood that had run through your veins, you were never living.
And despite it all, you remain placid, crestfallen on the stairs of yearning, praying for contentment to shine upon you. As fate would have it, contentment is not what arrives in seek of you, for it is Azriel looming over your unkempt silhouette.
The thought of words being shared has a wave of nausea crashing against you. So you, in spite of your resentment for the winged manipulator, turn away from the closed curtains and lean onto your right side.
His eyes are what you take in first. Had he not raised his blade against you, perhaps you’d dream of swimming in hazel. But life, never quite kind to you, has you drowning in the golden irises you cannot help but revere.
“Good evening, Shadowsinger, I do hope you’ve come in peace,” you drawl, never tearing your eyes from his own.
Peace.
The prospect of it has you scoffing.
“I’ve come to you as I am,” he replies blankly. His face, that damn face. Had he looked any less regal then perhaps you’d have an easier time listening to what he had to say, but all you can focus on are his unemotive eyes and formidable wing span.
“...I do recognize the situation is less than ideal, but it is a direct order from Rhysand, and we have no choice but to conform.”
“Ah,” you begin, not quite sure what he had been explaining to you for the past few minutes.
He raises an eyebrow but quickly lets a scowl overtake his features. His arms cross and his eyes look as piercing as they feel. “You know nothing of what I just said to you. I don’t intend on repeating myself for I do not find you of all beings to be worth the effort,” he exhales sharply, “meet me at the training grounds tomorrow, bring no weapon and arrive no later than the sun.”
Training grounds, with him and not Nesta?
It’s hard to imagine your High Lord caring very much for your well being, even with Feyre’s convincing. Still, you cannot help but feel that you are being overlooked once more. Exploited and deceived, never allowed to make decisions for yourself. You do not wish to train, you do not wish to learn the art of bloodshed, and most notably, you despise the prospect of Azriel being the one to teach you, for his blade is still wedged in between your flesh each and every time you close your eyes. Even today, he did not come in peace, for peace is a concept entirely unknown to him. He, despite his success as the Night Court's spymaster, is a creature of torment. An unrighteous knight, a commander of cruelty, the bringer of despair. And yet, in his own twisted way, he is still a savior deserving of accolades.
The clearing of his throat removes you from your trance, commanding your attention to his being once more. As though he expects an answer, he nods in your direction, encouraging you to say your part. You are once more a character in a play, for your lines are being fed to you and the individual you embody is a stranger to the soul inhabiting it.
“Very well,” you say, letting nothingness consume you once more, “I will see you tomorrow, no later than sunrise.”
Seemingly content, or something akin to it, Azriel’s gaze falls upon your own and his scowl deepens to the point where it seems permanently etched to his features. It is moments such as these that you wish you could retreat into the air and never return. Of everyone to have ever despised you, the hatred that Azriel emits is entirely unprecedented. Since you’d been turned into a creature of myths and legends, he has taken it upon himself, treating it like a mission of the utmost importance, to tear you apart until absolutely nothing remains. His words are venomous and his actions bleed true, never once have you felt like such a waste.
Feeling is a fickle thing because before this most recent encounter, you’d been convinced that it was a language lost to you. But no, you are capable of feeling in the same ways you are capable of living. Hope is not lost but it is frivolous because the promise of feeling and the potential of life cannot stop your soul from rotting away. According to your own philosophy, you are dying, little by little with each passing day. And yet, it is Azriel who stands before you, seemingly content with making you his prey.
“Do not disappoint me,” he says as he walks further away, through the door and down the stairs, effectively leaving you to bathe in your own grievances.
He speaks of disappointment as though they are old acquaintances; or, in simple terms, as if you’d never be capable of recognizing such a thing had he not identified it for you. But a fool he is, for you and disappointment are the dearest of friends and loveliest of lovers.
“Until next time, Shadowsinger,” you say to no one in particular, staring at the chandelier above your sprawled form. Its crystals, sharp, precise, and devastatingly beautiful are what spark something in you. Even if it is only a spark, the reminder that you are not yet dead is all that matters in this very moment.
So alas, a crystal is the muse that has called to you, and a crystal is the very thing your desires shall embody.
taglist: @aetherl0l @sidthedollface2 @marvelouslovely-barnes @impossibelle @chessebookgirl
#angst#acotar#fanfic#azriel x reader#a court of thorns and roses#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#rhysand#cassian#feyre#nesta#elain#archeron#reader#sad#witches#fantasy#sarahjmaas#sjm#azriel x reader angst#nesta archeron#elain archeron#feyre archeron#rhys#gwyn#emerie#mor#morrigan#amren#lucien
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Pervert Pt 3 (Newspaper Club; Obey Me!SWD)
ohhhh my GOOOOOOOOOOOD i finally did it. it's over it's over it's over i did it i did it everyone enjoy this. holy shit
a/n: PERVERT PART THREE AS PROMISED WOOOOOOO!! i finally finished i promised id deliver and here we are!! some of these may be out of character because im slightly unfamiliar with these characters BUT i hope you all enjoy regardless. please let me know if you enjoyed! next, im working on all these asks that keep pouring in...
cw: fem!mc (undergarments such as bras and panties are mentioned, but mc could be a crossdresser), fem undergarments, perverted behavior, underwear stealing, etc. let me know if i missed anything!
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, AS USUAL. PLEASE RESPECT MY BOUNDARY.
Mephistopheles:
He immediately startles and drops the panties to the floor. His lips twitch downwards into a frown and his gloved fingers curl into fists. His face burns red with embarrassment. Poor guy. The richest, most prestigious, most prominent noble of the entire Devildom, known for keeping his cool and being as haughty as a King… is frozen in place, here, watching you with wide eyes, after being caught rooting around through your laundry, for what anyone could assume were less than pure intentions.
It’s not a very good day for him.
If he wants to say something, he can’t. You watch as his mind spins, trying to come up with a notable retort, but you are both well aware that by the time he does, the tremendous pause in your discussion, already quite long and stifling, will have rendered it useless. You are both at a standstill, you clearly with the upper hand. But you know Mephisto, and how he’s not one to back down. But it’s not like you will, either.
When you take a step towards him, he jolts back, broken out of his frozen trance. He sputters indignantly, desperately coming up with something to say in response.
“F-First of all!” He’s practically spitting the words out at you, furious red blush across his face. You wait for him to speak, but he appears to have trouble getting anything out. All that he can get out for a few moments is nothing but false starts, angry sighs, and mortified groans. Then, he finally speaks. “If you so much as mention this to anyone else…!”
You want to say he’s already bluffing without hearing the rest of his threat. What could he do to possibly save his reputation from such an incredible embarrassment? He’s far too honest to paint you as a liar, and far too kind to blame you, anyway. If anything, the only thing he would do is refuse to admit the truth and never speak of the topic. Which, honestly, was probably the best that could come out of this… If he was willing to leave it behind, at least.
You were admittedly more curious about what drove him to this level. He had never been too slow to show his obvious disdain for humans, especially you for your closeness to Diavolo. He was plenty kind, but he wasn’t nice, and that was that. So, after showing nothing short of polite dislike for you… What was he doing here? Part of you almost couldn’t believe it. The human hater himself… chasing after a whiff of human pheromones? Sexual ones, at that?
You only realize he was lecturing you on keeping quiet when you return from your thoughts.
“-And quite frankly, I believe you owe it to me to keep quiet. It’s not every day I open my doors to anyone - a human, no less - and allow them to stay temporarily simply because the demon lost his temper.” He turns away and huffs, crossing his arms. In his rambling, his blush had significantly lessened, and his embarrassment faded. “I am only doing this for the sake of Lord Diavolo.”
Yeah, right.
You decide to be teasing. The amused expression on your face turns into a questioning one, eyebrow raised and lips quirked downwards. “Which part are you doing for Lord Diavolo’s sake? Taking me in or stealing my intimates?”
He sputters immediately at your question, looking at you incredulously. “I-!” He starts, and you can almost tell he was going to say something along the lines of ‘I beg your pardon!’ and then realized he was in no position to say such things. “You…!” He points at you, as though to get a point across, then falters and retracts. He is visibly fuming, clearly very angry that he is unable to get a proper retort out. It takes everything in you not to laugh at him. “Ugh!” He turns on his heel and begins to walk away, and almost manages to, before you toss the panties he dropped right at the back of his head. He stops in his tracks, curling his hands into fists at his sides. He is absolutely seething, and you can tell. He plucks them off of his head and grips them tightly, as if to send you a threatening message. You only laugh.
“Come back to me when you’d like a fresh pair!” You giggle at him and walk back into the laundry room to finish your chore. As you complete your wash, you hear his grumbling and stomping all the way down the hall. He does not return the panties.
Raphael:
Wordlessly, silently, he startles, staring at you like a deer in headlights. His eyes widen like saucers, but his lips remain closed. The longer he stands there, idling, the more you wonder what exactly he's hoping to achieve. He doesn't so much as twitch.
After you think you've been standing here long enough, waiting for him to move, you roll your eyes and harden your gaze on him.
“Gonna give them back or not, pervert?” You crook an eyebrow upwards and tilt your head at him. He looks down, almost visibly deflating. His reaction is almost unexpected. He looks genuinely sad, looking pitifully down at the panties he held in his hand.
You got the slight feeling that this was probably an act, but you didn’t comment on it. You simply shook your head and held out your hand, motioning for him to hand them over. Politely, he does, gently placing them in your hand and bowing his head, pursing his lips. “I… I apologize, MC. This won’t happen again.”
You sigh, shaking your head. “It shouldn’t,” you said firmly, turning away from him to move to complete the wash, before continuing, “At least, not without my permission first.”
You hear his sudden intake in breath, but decide not to pay it any mind. The weight of the realization on him hangs heavily in the air, joined by absolute silence except for your movements, putting your laundry in the wash. You have to wait a while before you hear him open and close his mouth a few times, clearly conflicted on what to say, before he finally stammers, “Wh-What are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” you start, turning to him, holding another lacy pair of panties in you hands, “that I wouldn’t mind if you needed my pheromones so badly for a fix. You just have to be a good boy and ask.”
He sputters indignantly for a moment, his eyes widening, and a blush spreading across his face. You only smile, and turn back to your chore, wordlessly continuing to put them away. He shuffles in place before helping you, probably attempting to sweeten the deal before he asks. You don’t mind, however, and let him assist you.
When the chore is finally done and the wash is going, he turns to you. “I know you probably don’t have any I could use now…” He speaks slowly, as though carefully considering every word before it comes out. It must be a difficult request. “But, when they start to pile up, would it… be alright, if I borrowed some?” He doesn’t look at you. He can’t bear to. He doesn’t need to, though. The embarrassment is painted quite clearly all over his face and ears, a deep shade of red. He’s looking down at his clasped hands and worrying his lip between his teeth. Was it this important to him to be able to indulge himself? You find yourself more and more surprised at the attitudes of these demons and angels day after day.
“Sure.” You simply sigh, amused by his shyness. Your face twists into a smirk, however, when an offer comes to mind. “In fact… Maybe when the day is done, I can give you the pair I’m wearing now. How does that sound?”
He’s practically frozen now, the blush across his face the only thing capable of melting him. He swallows roughly and stiffly nods, walking away robotically to leave the room. You only watch him, amused, thinking about how the ending of your day would go.
Thirteen:
She yelps, jumping ten feet into the air in surprise at your sudden appearance. She fumbles the panties in her hands, looking guilty as ever. Her eyes flick from you to her hands nervously, as though fearing judgment. Before you can say anything, she clenches her hands shut, squeezing her eyes shut tight, and begins apologizing profusely. “I’m sorry, MC! This really shouldn’t have happened, I just got way too curious and I had to-! Well…” She trails off, biting her lip. “I hope you aren’t too mad at me… I still do want that soul of yours, y’know.” She says this innocently, as though you’ll forgive her if she widens her eyes and pouts her lips. Which, honestly, would be tempting, but it’s less so tempting when you glance down to the panties she still clutches in her grasp. She notices this and hides them behind her, a blush creeping onto her face.
“Hey… you wouldn’t mind me keeping these, would you? Your soul is nice and all, but…” She pouts, very clearly for show, and looks at you with wide eyes, begging without saying anything. You’re ready to call bullshit on her, and quite loudly at that. However, you simply sigh, exhausted, and hold out your hand.
“Come on. Hand them over.”
She sighs begrudgingly and hands them over, plopping them down in your hand. “You’re no fun.” She struts away from you and plops down on a nearby chair, sighing dramatically and laying across the chair in a fainting pose. “Could’ve kept something of my beloved’s for when they inevitably return to the underworld, but no. I’ve got to sit here and long for them.” She sighs dramatically again, melting into the chair. You roll your eyes and walk over to her, peering down at her.
“How about I come back? Visit with a fresher pair?” A wicked smile grows on your face as you say this, the thought of the offer stirring you with mirth.
She shoots up at once, her light blush deepening into a cherry red. She looks at you with wide eyes and her mouth slightly parted in shock.
“...Do you mean it?”
“Sure.” You say, shrugging, and stepping back from her. You smile at her, as though waiting for her to take the offer. Of course, she snaps at it.
“Hmm. I still want those ones. They’re pretty and purple.” She points to the ones you’re holding, a wide smirk on her face now. You only roll your eyes again.
“Fine. But only if you wash them.”
“Deal.”
a/n: woooooooohooooooooo! it's finally done! im so, so sorry for making you all wait so long! thank you so much for being so patient with me! please, enjoy this, and don't be afraid to leave a comment, reblog, or sumbit an ask! i love to know what you all think of my writing!
#obey me#minors dni#obey me shall we date#obey me smut#obey me swd#obey me nightbringer#obey me mc#omswd#obey me!#obey me solmare#obey me mephistopheles#obey me mephisto x mc#obey me raphael#obey me raphael x reader#obey me raphael x mc#obey me thirteen#obey me thirst#obey me thirteen x reader#obey me thirteen x mc
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I hope it's okay to send another one of the cliches in! (I absolutely ADORED the Toji one you did! Perfection, pure perfection) I saw you wanted some Itachi and I feel like 23 is just so perfect for him. Maybe adding prompt 12 with it too? (Feel free to ignore if we can only send in one ask though!
𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒖𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝑲𝒊𝒔𝒔
⊱ plus touching foreheads; The Clichés ™ event
note: bless you darling for giving me the chance to write for my beloved itachi
A warm night embraces you as you walk amongst the villagers with a basket of ingredients for your dinner. A million thoughts go by your head and you aren't quite aware of your surroundings until you focus on your path ahead and notice a familiar figure walking towards you.
You gasp once you notice who it is, dropping your basket.
"Itachi?" panic threats to take over you, he can't be seen here, yet no one else seems to have noticed the most wanted ninja standing in the middle of the busy street.
"Hello, angel."
"Am I in a genjutsu?"
"No," he leans, taking your basket from the ground and handing it back to you, "But everyone else is."
"Isn't it too risky?" your eyes wander through his pretty features, realizing that it has been a few months since the last time he sneaked in the village to see you. Tonight he doesn't have his usual cloak, instead he wore a gray shirt and no bandana, you reached for his hair, brushing it away from his face.
Itachi takes your hand delicately, kissing your fingers, "You're worth it."
You take one step closer, touching his forehead with yours and breathing in his scent.
"I missed you" you confess, it's a weird feeling being so intimate to him in public, you can hear people talking around you, buying and selling goods, kids running, playing ninja, but you thrust his skills.
"I'm afraid I can't stay much longer, angel" he holds your hand tightly, his face is the same as the boy you knew years ago, yet his dark circles look deeper every time you see him.
"Let me take care of you, 'tachi" you beg, wanting nothing more than to take him home with you, have a bath, wash each other's hair, make tea and kiss every inch of him in a fresh bed, loving and being loved by him till morning eventually comes.
"There's nothing I want more" he confesses and you know it's true, but his tone indicates that will not be possible tonight.
"Promise me you will be back soon" you know it's hard for him to catch a break to come here, besides all the risk he takes getting into the village he still has to mislead his fellow akatsuki members so they won't find out about his Konoha love, making a potential target out of you in case things go south.
"I'll try my best" he brings both his hands to your face and takes his time admiring your face until his eyes eventually fall onto your lips, he misses your kisses more than anything else he had in konoha.
Your eyes close but right before he can kiss you he feels a disturbance, like someone is beginning to notice the genjutsu.
"Sorry, angel, I must go now" he lets go of you and you sigh, "I love you" you watch him walk backwards until he fades like smoke.
"Sensei!" you hear a yell and look over your shoulder seeing Naruto and the rest of team seven coming towards you, Kakashi looks around suspiciously.
"Naruto, hi" you greet and the boy begins to tell you about the mission they just came back from. You try to dismiss the look Kakashi has on you.
"Were you shopping?" Naruto notices your basket.
"Yeah, just some stuff for dinner" you open your basket to show him, but you're surprised by a bouquet of flowers lingering on the inside.
"Wow, is it a romantic dinner?" Sakura inquires.
"Now, now, kids, you gotta wake up early tomorrow for training” Kakashi claps once, making the kids whine. You look at Sasuke, noticing the similar features with the man that was there just a few seconds ago.
Sasuke meets your gaze, you dismiss the nostalgic feeling by ruffling his hair.
“Good luck, guys.”
see also: “what if someone see us?” + Jiraiya
#itachi x reader#itachi x you#naruto x reader#naruto imagines#itachi x y/n#naruto fanfiction#— the cliches ™
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# being gojo satoru’s therapist.
word count: 2.5k-ish
some angst (suicide is mentioned very briefly), no use of y/n, cursing, female!reader, idiots unknowingly pining for each other, emotionally constipated gojo
it was so fucking stupid, he didn’t need any of this. he’s the strongest sorcerer of the modern era for god’s sake.
why on earth was he being forced to see a goddamn therapist?
upon yaga’s request- well, demand actually, he was required to see a shrink because, as the principal worded it, he needed ‘a lot of fucking help’.
of course, he refused at first.
thee satoru gojo in a shrink’s office? what was that, some twisted fucking joke?
sadly for him though, yaga decided to put his foot down and he wasn’t taking no for an answer. he threatened the snowy haired man to take away his teaching job if he didn’t get the help he apparently desperately needed.
so it began, satoru gojo’s journey with his therapist.
over the course of a couple of months, satoru had grown accustomed to his routine with his therapist.
he met up with her in her cozy little office, she tried to make the conversation about his feelings and he’d redirect it to something else entirely, mainly complaining about higher ups in his field.
that always earned him a look, but she never forced him to share his inner monologues with her.
she couldn’t do that even if she wanted to anyways, he wouldn’t let her.
all of this led to an unlikely.. friendship?
well, satoru wouldn’t exactly call it a friendship, but it was.. something.
that day, was no different than their usual meetings.
a tall and lean figure made its way into her office and sat on the comfortable armchair in front of her about 30 minutes prior, but all she got from him up until that point were silences and changes of subject.
“and how did that make you feel?” god here she went again with that stupid fucking question.
satoru sighed, stretching his legs and arms a little.
sometimes she forgot how massive he actually was.
the woman briefly averted her eyes, looking everywhere but at his stupidly stunning figure, afraid yet another crack would appear in her professional persona.
she’d tell herself it wasn’t her fault, it was only natural after all! he was just very nice to look at.
she could be pretty dense, for a therapist.
“you worry too much,” he said casually, albeit a little irritated, after some back and forth. for some reason he couldn’t quite understand, his mood wasn’t the best that day, but he still tried to keep his usual laid back attitude, hiding the annoyance behind a pout. for her sake.
“i’ve told you countless times, i’m here just because i was basically forced, nothing is actually wrong with me.. if yaga didn’t constantly check in with you, i wouldn’t even attend our ‘sessions’ in the first place”.
well.. if he had to be completely honest, satoru had told only half the truth.
he attended their meetings also because his therapist was a very pretty sight to look at, and surprisingly interesting to talk to (when she wasn’t trying to pry into his feelings, that is.)
satoru was more than aware she was only trying to do her job, he really was. he just.. didn’t care, so he decided he was going to make it her problem. maybe he’d manage to get her to her wits end and she’d finally give up on him.
‘please don’t give up on me’
gojo leaned forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees. a playful smile took over his previously pouty lips as he said something along the lines of ‘why don’t we talk about YOUR feelings instead?’.
maybe he could joke his way out of this? he hoped he could.
his therapist sighs, scrunching her nose and pinching the bridge of it slightly. cute.
“we don’t talk about my feelings because i am your therapist, not the other way around, gojo” she countered, trying to keep the conversation as workplace appropriate as possible, suppressing the urge to headbutt the stubbron (and gorgeous) man in front of her.
the woman was very proud of her skills as a therapist, so much so that the lack of progress with this peculiar snowy haired man left her particularly dissatisfied, so she started putting slightly more effort than usual in trying to crack his façade, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
“and, for your information, i do worry about you for a reason” she continued, voice firm, stern even.
‘she really worries about me?’
“judging by the very limited amount of insight on yourself you’ve provided me, you really do need someone to talk to about your feelings” his pretty therapist added, looking at him straight in the eyes.
she looked like she wanted to obliterate his sunglasses with her mind.
‘don’t look at me like that’
feelings feelings feelings, he was so tired of hearing her going on about them.
after that statement his mood quickly worsened even more, his face fading in a cold, borderline cynical, front.
‘well, thats a first’ she thought to herself, a little taken aback.
satoru had been curious about what exactly she saw in him from day one. was it concern? pity?
‘i don’t want her pity’
whatever it was, it was a waste of time on both ends.
"i see" he hummed thoughtfully as he tapped his fingers against his knee, pondering on his next words. "can I ask you something?"
“sure, go ahead” she answered calmly, a bit of unsureness and skepticism detectable in her voice given the sudden shift in his character.
satoru seemed to stare right through her for a few moments. his gaze was cold and unmoving, his eyes felt like they were piercing hers in a way that no other client's ever has.
“have you ever considered…” he begins slowly, voice low “that you might not be as good at this job as you think you are?”
his words were sharp, each one chosen with great intent. there was something behind his eyes that both fascinated and terrified her.
‘im sorry’
her eyes widened momentarily at his question.
a flash of annoyance, maybe even anger, thundering in them as her eyebrows furrowed, her lips parting to throw an equally biting remark back at him.
be professional.
she took a deep breath and crossed one leg over the other, speaking calmly once again.
“if you want to criticise my skills you’re free to do so, even though you’re not qualified to do so” the woman retorted.
“and if you want a different therapist you’re more than free to ask mr. yaga” her words did have a little edge to them, but she still managed to keep most of her composure.
before the man in front of her could get a word in, she added one more thing.
“but from my perspective, a therapist’s perspective, you do need one” she said as she tapped her heeled foot on the ground.
‘i know i need help’
‘help me please’
satoru pondered for a couple of seconds, then he chuckled humourlessly as he leaned back in his chair.
his face was stoic, similar to a statue, and his eyes lacked their usual shininess, almost looking muddy.
not that she’d noticed anyways, considering they were hidden behind his glasses.
there was an intensity to his gaze though, one that made even just looking at him feel as if she was under a microscope.
"I think you're taking this too personally." he hums, mocking her ever so slightly.
"i’m not criticising your skills per se, all I'm saying is..." he pauses for a moment, considering how best to say it. "even a blind man could see your ‘concern’ for me runs deeper than the usual pity you feel for all your patients”
“you must think i’m really fucking pathetic, huh?”
what the fuck was he going on about?
“my concern for you, or any other patient for the matter, is not based on pity in the first place, gojo” she looked at him, her face bewildered.
“you think i pity you?” she raised both her eyebrows in question, the incredulous expression still on her face.
satoru chuckles. though the sound is soft and quiet, delightful to hear, something about its sweetness makes it bone chilling.
nonetheless, this made her excited.
it was the widest range of emotions he’d ever shown her.
‘im breaking through!’
“do you not?” he asks, shifting in his chair, and leaning back in it once again, folding his arms over his broad chest.
“why else would you be trying as hard as you are to ‘fix’ me?” he asks, a frown stretched across his gorgeous face.
“i’m just a client like any other, but yet here you are! trying your damn hardest to change me.”
ah, so he did noticed her extra effort huh. fuck.
still, who the hell put the idea she pitied him into his stupid head?
“i do not pity you, gojo. i’ve seen patients far worse than you are” she said, almost sounding a little defensive.
“and i’m not trying to ‘fix you’, or change you for that matter! that is not my job!” she exclaimed, a smidge too loud, massaging her temple with one of her hands immediately after. probably to chase away the growing headache he’d given her.
‘i managed to piss off my own therapist what the fuck is wrong with me and why do i even care?’
before he was completely swallowed by his self deprecating thoughts, her voice brought him back once again, like a saving grace.
“my job is helping patients navigate through their emotions, using methods that are tailored perfectly for them” she explained.
“i communicate with my patients to help them find a way to process their feelings that works for them. i do not pity them, i just help them” she paused “..or, well, try to. if they let me” the woman concluded, face serious.
his face twists in distaste as he listened to her speak. bullshit.
“that’s the thing though,” he responds slowly “i don’t need help with that”
the man pulled his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, finally meeting her eyes properly.
‘he’s so pretty’
“you think I need your little ‘tools’? or to talk about my feelings??” he said, annoyance lacing his voice.
“i have always known how to process my emotions. I don’t need you to teach me how. i’m. fine.”
she barely held back the urge to scoff.
gojo had never realised how bad his coping mechanism were, and she was just trying to get him to develop healthier ones, bit by bit.
‘communicating would be a great fucking start’
evidently though, it wasn’t working, so she decided it was time to switch up her approach and be a little brazen, maybe that would work.
“you? processing emotions? that’s a good one.” she snickered
he scrunched his nose up, questioningly “and what could you possibly mean by that, huh?” he felt himself get more and more agitated as the seconds ticked by.
he felt like he was being stripped naked, exposed, against his will. all the things he’d worked so hard to bury, the careless persona he’d built..
‘stop looking at me, stop finding out things about me i don’t want you to know.’
“you bottle everything up, pretend it’s fine and let it eat at you from the inside, little by little” she looked at him menacingly, her eyes narrowed into slits.
“that big goofy grin, or the confident smirk you put on, doesn’t work in here, gojo”
she clicked her tongue in disapproval. “in this office, i’m reading you, not the other way around” she continued ad she pointed an accusatory finger at him.
“i know you’re used to getting you way, because you’re smart, even though it doesn’t look like it, but as long as your ass is sat in that chair, you won’t find a way to give me answers you think will please me”
“if your goal is to get me to tell yaga to get off your back, then we’re going to be here for loooong. i’m striving for the truth and i’m going to get it”
to hell with being professional.
the man remained silent for a few moments, his expression almost..hurt? “…I think I hate you.”
he smiled in defeat, leaning forward once again, and though his voice was even and calm, it came out a bit strained.
“no, I know I do.” he didn’t though, and that confused him to no end.
the woman gently laid her hands in her lap, trying to ignore the sting his words left in her chest as her voice went back to its usually stoic connotation, completely discarding the venom it previously dripped in.
“i get that a lot from patients like yourself” she started, calmly.
“usually, they drop therapy after a few session because they can’t handle the truth being thrown in their face and then, after a while..”
a pause, like she was choosing her next words carefully “they end up dropping dead on the floor when the fire crew cuts the rope they hung themselves from” she finished, her expression darkening ever so slightly.
“you think you don’t need help, you think you’re fine just ignoring your emotions, but one day they will catch up to you and it’ll be too late to save you” her voice lowered, almost shamefully, as she tore her eyes away from his.
“nobody will be there to save you from drowning.”
satoru looked shocked for a moment, then he felt a sudden and unprovoked rage take over his body.
how dare she?
he wasn’t like that. he was strong. the strongest, actually.
he wordlessly jumped up from of his seat and went to stride straight out of the room, with the intention of never stepping foot there again, but then he stopped, his back still to her.
for some weird reason he couldn’t quite comprehend, gojo felt the need to still try and prove he was fine, despite the fact the issues he’d tried so hard to hide had been uncovered and brought up to the scorching sunlight.
“i’m not stupid. i am perfectly aware shit might eventually catch up to me, but i’m the strongest fucking being that ever walked this earth, i’ll deal with it”
what was meant to be a powerful statement, came out sounding whiny and hoarse, almost like he was trying to delude himself into believing his own words.
‘at least he admitted he has issues, progress is progress’
his therapist opened her mouth to talk, but he didn’t give her a chance.
he felt like he was being consumed by a sudden and foreign rage.
“BESIDES WHY DO YOU EVEN CARE?!” he suddenly screamed, rapidly turning to face her again, his glasses being hauled across the room in the process.
“why are you that concerned over some stranger like me?” he adds, his expression hard, “do you genuinely, truly, believe I’m worth helping?!”
‘we’re going to have to work on these self deprecating thoughts’
‘im the strongest, i don’t need to be cared for.’
“yes, i do” she stood up from her chair in a (failed) attempt to not crane her neck upwards to look at him.
“i do believe you are worth helping” she assured him in a gentle voice “you can walk out now, if you wish, but never forget this is a safe space where you’re free to talk, satoru” she said, her words surprisingly comforting.
“you’re not a god, you’re human just like the rest of us”
being called human never felt so good.. and it was also the first time she had ever called him by his first name.
and just like that, the usual gojo satoru was back, cracking jokes.
“do you normally call your clients by their first name, or am i special?” he asked, the question dripping with sarcasm and a tiny bit of flirt, as a small smile appeared on his lips.
the angry pretty boy has been calmed down, success.
“you definitely have a savior complex” he added quietly, chuckling a bit “it’s cute”.
a smile made its way on her face too as she shook her head a little, her cheeks a little warm at the compliment “whatever lets you sleep at night”
the woman sat back down, once again crossing one leg over the other.
“now, will you sit down and give therapy an actual chance, satoru?” she looked up at him, expectantly and hopefully.
“yeah.. yeah, i’ll do that.”
gojo satoru may have been the strongest sorcerer in modern history, but he was still human like everyone else.
☆
| @ASHSD3AD ‘S WORK, DO NOT COPY OR TRANSLATE. |
#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojou satoru x reader#angst#jjk#jjk satoru#jjk gojo#i lobe him#he’s so babygirl#he needs a therapist tho fr#female reader
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