#which is something i feel so deeply about
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slumber party
in which there's only one bed. fem bau!reader x spencer reid
fluff!
warnings/tags: dark humor, (the word molest is used jokingly once but in my defense your honor its completely on brand for early seasons cm humor, if u cancel me u have to cancel the whole cast those are the rules, its just a joke cause reader always flirts w him aggressively, pls don't come for me i have a wife and children and three boyfriends to take care of,) mutual pining, bullying and death threats as flirting, they love each other so much and bicker like children, glasses spencer, (moans), emily and rossi are mentioned bc canon means fuck all to me, i think thats it but this is my most out of pocket duo so if i'm wrong lmk
a/n: just a silly little thing that i cooked up, not a masterpiece but i think its cute!! I hope u enjoy!! lmk what you think!! looooveee youuuu
“Oh, there is no way.”
Your duffel bag hits the dingy carpet as Spencer is still closing the door behind you.
“What? Is it—”
You give him a look over your shoulder, eyebrows raised as if to say, what are you going to do about this?
But he only manages to meet your eyes for a split second before they’re back to the singular queen bed, darting over the white sheets and pillows like he might find another mattress if he looks hard enough.
Sharing a room with Spencer, you can handle. You've done it before. Whenever the team has to pair up at a hotel, you two are an obvious choice. And while you occasionally butt heads, mostly you adore each other and it's great.
But sharing a bed is a whole other situation.
One you were not prepared for. And evidently, neither is he.
Watching his big anxious eyes flit around the room nervously, you feel sort of bad for your reaction. You know you can be a bit… abrasive, sometimes.
“It’s fine, I’ll just—I’ll see if I can share a bed with Emily or JJ in their room—”
Just then there’s a knock at the door. Spencer looks relieved to have something else to focus on, turning back around and quickly undoing the latch again before opening the door to reveal your favorite raven-haired SSA. Emily leans past the doorjamb, eyes immediately honing in on the awkward sleeping arrangement.
“Oh my god! You guys too?”
“What?” You and Spencer ask at the same time. Emily raises her eyebrows at this and glances between you, but otherwise doesn’t comment.
“Me and JJ only have the one bed. I thought it might just have been us.”
You frown. There goes your plan of sharing a room with them.
“What about Morgan and Garcia?”
Spencer snorts.
“Something tells me Penelope wouldn’t be too torn up about it if that's the case.”
“Hotch and Rossi?”
The room goes quiet and a little chilly as the thought disturbs everyone equally. Emily frowns deeply.
“I don’t even… I can’t picture that.”
“Can we please not try to picture it?”
“Great. Okay, well. I just wanted to make sure everyone is suffering equally. Good luck, champs.”
“Thanks,” Spencer mutters dryly. Emily smiles, eyes darting between the two of you for just a moment too long, before pushing off the door frame and disappearing from sight. Once the door is closed again, a heavy silence ensues. “I’ll… I can take the floor—”
“It’s fine, Spencer. I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor. We’re both grown-ups. Besides, we like each other, right? It’ll be like a slumber party.”
“I’ve never had one,” he admits. His glasses slip further down his nose as he frowns. Your fingers itch to push them back up.
“Then I’m happy to be your first,” you tease, facing him fully with your hand on your hip and barely resisting the urge to add, I’ll be gentle. “Do you want the shower first or can I?”
Spencer has a habit of looking you up and down like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. Some might find it odd, but his utter lack of social graces is, lucky for him, incredibly endearing to you.
“You can have it first,” he says, meeting your eyes again. “Just don’t do that thing where you get the entire bathroom soaking wet.”
“Aw. But I love doing that. It’s my favorite part,” you tease, scooping up your bag once more.
Twenty minutes later you’re emerging from the bathroom with damp hair, clad in loose shorts and a college hoodie.
“Nice outfit,” Spencer says from the spinny-chair at the desk, examining your outfit choice with a scrutiny you wish you’d been prepared for. Really, you wish you’d known ahead of time you’d have a roommate and brought some alternate sleeping clothes. “I had no idea you felt so passionately about… Scooby Doo?”
“Shut up right now,” you grit, tossing your bag into the corner of the room and tugging your hoodie down over your cartoon-patterned shorts as far as you can.
“What?” He’s laughing as he brushes past you on his way into the bathroom, bearing his own bag. “It’s a good look for you.”
Your face is burning as you choose the side of the bed furthest from the door. Springs creak underneath your weight as you sink down, sitting with your legs hanging off the side for a moment before swinging them up onto the mattress, leaning against the headboard and side-eyeing the empty space next to you. There’s really not very much of it. The bed feels even smaller than it looks.
From the bathroom you hear the sound of the shower squeaking and starting up again—a cacophony of droplets against tile on the other side of the wall. You try not to be nervous as you imagine Spencer filling the space beside you in just a few minutes, hair wet and in pajamas. And yet you spend each second wondering if he’s almost done, wondering if the shower will finally sputter to a halt, and once it does, wondering how long it’ll be before he’s out again. It’s ridiculous how impatient you're getting—and by the time you finally watch the door knob twist you feel crazy.
“I think that was your longest shower yet, Dr. Reid.”
The teasing affords you a moment to ogle him head to toe, taking in his choice of pajamas—tonight, familiar plaid pants and an MIT crewneck—as well as his hair which has already begun to dry. Briefly you wonder if he does that thing guys do, where they lean down and haphazardly dry their hair with a towel because they have no concern for its texture whatsoever. But you kind of doubt it, because his hair always looks so soft.
“You were sitting here waiting for me?” He chuckles, and honestly you’d been expecting a shyer response. But you adapt quickly.
“Maybe I was. Big spoon or little spoon?”
“Ha-ha.” He opens a drawer in the dresser and begins unpacking his clothes into it. It's a funny habit of his. You never unpack your duffel. “You took the better side of the bed.”
“Uh, yeah. I’m the woman. I get to do that.”
“Well you should know that if an intruder breaks in, I’m not fighting him off. You’d probably have a better chance than me.”
“And my chances will be even better if he’s distracted with you first.”
“So I’m just bait?” He scoffs, looking back at you. Strands of wet hair hang so prettily around his face, like the perfect frame around a work of art. You smile sweetly from your spot on the bed before playfully biting at the air in his direction. The message goes unspoken but reads loud and clear. Of course you are. You make such good bait.
That gets a blush out of him and he has nothing else to say as he turns back to his drawer. Happily you lean back against the headboard, stretching your legs out and bouncing slightly in place. Beneath you the mattress springs groan and squeak in protest.
“I hope you're not going to be this irritating all night.”
It's clearly lighthearted, but you promptly stop and frown at his back.
“Call me irritating again and see where you end up sleeping tonight.”
“I just don’t see how you’re even more hyperactive than usual right now. Has anybody ever told you that you’re crepuscular?” Spencer asks, finally sliding the drawer shut and going to shut the overhead light off. Your eyes narrow.
“Obviously nobody has told me that.”
“It means y—”
“I’m most energetic within the few hours around dusk and dawn. Contrary to your belief, Dr. Reid, other people are also capable of looking up words in a dictionary and remembering what they mean. Are you going to stand in the corner all night or are you gonna come to bed?”
“I am,” he scoffs, clearly embarrassed and shy and embarrassed of being shy. “I’m just… you look like you kick in your sleep. And hog the blankets.”
You shrug, folding your knees to your chest and hugging them quaintly.
“I’ve never had any complaints. In fact, you should be so lucky to share a bed with me. All five star reviews, baby.”
You toss a suggestive wink in at the end, which seems garish enough to break the tension so that Spencer can stop lingering in the corner like a sleep-paralysis demon and move to carefully take his place next to you. He almost mirrors your position, but his legs are too long to quite manage your level of compactness and so they simply fold underneath him. A few silent moments go by, in which you have the dumbest smile on your face and you keep glancing over to the side, waiting for him to be looking back at you.
“This is already the least relaxed I have ever been in a bed.”
“Good thing we’re not going to sleep yet.”
Finally he looks at you, a casual mix of hesitance, concern, and moderate curiosity coloring his features.
“We’re not?”
“Oh, my god, Spencer,” you snort. “I’m not gonna molest you. We have to do slumber party stuff, remember?”
He flushes again, glancing at the digital clock in his bedside table.
“But it’s late. We should go to sleep.”
“At slumber parties you have to stay up until you literally can’t keep your eyes open anymore. Those are the rules. I don’t make them.”
Still, your insistence that you follow the international code of sleepover law goes unabided by Spencer. He simply leans over to flick off his lamp, bathing the room in darkness.
“I appreciate the effort,” he says, and your eyes haven’t adjusted but you can hear the rustle of sheets and blankets as he gets under them, “but unfortunately we have to be awake and alert in five hours.”
“You’re no fun,” you huff, but climb under your own side of the cover and scoot down until you’re flat on your back, covered in blanket and hands folded on your sternum.
Spencer doesn’t respond.
It’s silent for maybe five minutes, during which your brain doesn’t slow down at all. Maybe you are crepuscular. Or slightly nocturnal. You have nothing but energy.
In an attempt to get comfortable, you try adjusting your position.
The mattress squeaks.
You do it again.
Another squeak.
A second goes by, and now you’re intentionally jostling about, squeaking the mattress as much as you can.
“Would you stop that?” Spencer says, voice already gravelly with sleep. You manage, but you’re already devolving into a fit of giggles. “I’m going to smother you with this pillow,” he threatens, but you hear the disgruntled smile curling his words.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood to rest.”
Another moment passes. He sighs deeply. You smile into the dark.
“What are you in the mood for?” He asks flatly, and you’ve won.
“Tell me a secret,” you immediately demand in a hushed tone, flipping on your side to face his back. “Something you’ve never told anyone else.”
“I don’t—”
“Shh! You have to whisper it. Those are the slumber party rules.”
“I don’t have any secrets,” he whispers, clearly flustered, and to your delight, rolling to face the ceiling. “None that you’d want to hear.”
“Oh, now that’s just not true. You’re an enigma, Spencer Reid. You fascinate me.”
You’re only sort of kidding.
“I… fascinate you?”
“Completely. You know, ever since you moved your desk across from mine I get distracted just staring at you and wondering what you’re thinking about. But you’re very… hard to read, sometimes. I think it’s because you’re a Scorpio.”
“The position of the stars at the time I was born has no bearing on my personality.”
“Fine,” you concede, still in a glorified stage whisper. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t display the archetypal Scorpio traits. You’re all brooding, mysterious. Kinda, I don't know... intense and sexy and unknowable…”
“Sexy?” He laughs, breaking the whisper rule. You grin and let it slide. You’d hoped he would catch that one.
“Hey,” you snap, losing the smile immediately and lightly shoving against what you hope is his shoulder. “You’re supposed to be telling me a secret, damnit. I won’t let your wiles and charm distract me from getting what I want.”
“When have you ever let anything stop you from getting what you want?”
Truly, your cheeks are going to start aching with this constant back and forth between poker-faced and huge Cheshire smile.
“Stop flirting and answer my question, Reid.”
With the amount of times you’ve made him sigh tonight he must be dizzy. You chew your lip apprehensively in the silence, picking a loose thread on your pillow. It’s so pitch black in the room, you can’t see him where he lies only a few meager inches from you. But you can feel his presence. You can feel the unexpected bass to his voice when he’s tired and speaking this lowly, which you’ve never heard before.
“All the secrets I’ve never told anyone are just… depressing.”
Your heart sinks a little at the way he swallows between words, like that in and of itself was hard to admit. Unthinkingly your hand slides into the small gap of white cotton between the two of you.
“Not very good slumber party material, I think,” he laughs self-consciously.
“You’d be surprised.”
The sentiment comes quieter and more serious than you’ve been all night. If only you had the words to tell him that he can tell you anything. That you want to hold his secrets for him under lock and key. That you would never, ever do anything less than offer him kindness and support—even if it doesn’t always seem that way when you’re teasing him.
“Do you have any secrets you’ve never told anyone else?” He murmurs eventually, so soft it could kill you.
And you do. There are plenty of dark ones, probably not all dissimilar from those he’d elected not to share only a moment ago.
But you don’t bring those up.
Instead, you decide to admit to something silly. Still, it makes you nervous as you feel it coming loose in your chest. You’ve really never told anyone this, and it’s perhaps more vulnerable than you’d realized before the words were already leaving your mouth.
“I, have…” You pause to laugh at yourself, and continue on. “I have a stuffed dragon that I take with me on every single case.”
“You do?” Spencer laughs, so loud and unexpected it almost hurts your ears, angling his head toward you. Blood rushes to your face.
“Yes. He usually sleeps in bed with me. He’s an excellent listener and has been the origin of several of my most genius breakthroughs. You remember Gibson Cooper?”
“Family annihilator from Houston?”
“Correct. He’s in prison because Oscar helped me make the Cook Creek Campground connection between the O’Hara and Diangelo families.”
“You have a stuffed profiler dragon named Oscar? Is he here?”
“He’s—I mean, I wasn’t expecting to share a room with someone.”
“So he’s in your bag.”
“Yes,” you seethe, “and I will not be introducing you to him. He doesn’t do well with men.”
“You are genuinely psychotic.”
You huff.
“Fine. I’m sorry I told you anything.”
You’re about to roll over onto your other side—but Spencer surprises you by catching the hand that had been outstretched in his direction. He carefully intertwines your fingers and squeezes gently.
“You’re right. That was mean. Thank you for telling me about Oscar.” His tone is surprisingly teasing, and you’re so uncharacteristically flustered by this rare show of physicality and affection that you can’t muster an adequate comeback. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind filling your silence, though, sounding a little more solemn now. “I’m sorry I don’t have any secrets for you.”
The way his voice gets all thin and scratchy sometimes—it’s like the earnest sincerity just pours out of him. He can’t control it. He can’t be anyone other than who he is. Maybe that’s a part of why you love him so much. You wonder if he knows how much you love him. It’s not exactly a secret—anyone on the team would be able to tell as much. You’ve been relentlessly teased for the way you are with him. For your batting lashes and your lingering touches and your unabashed flirting. But beneath it all is true affection, and nobody doubts that.
“It’s okay,” you decide with a squeeze of your own, after a moment of deliberation. “You’ll think of something. ’Cause, y’know—you’re stuck with me for at least a few more days.”
“Oh, god,” he laughs, and releases your hand, rolling over to face away from you. But you don’t mind. You’ll get lots more time to invade his personal space over the coming week or so. “Goodnight.”
“Sweet dreams,” you sing-song, turning away to face the wall with what is perhaps your biggest, stupidest smile yet.
#spencer reid#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x you#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic#criminal minds imagine
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The pool scene is awesome. But it’s also extremely painful.
Because on the one hand you have Gideon, who is very repressed, something we’re probably not expecting as an audience, because she is a brash, agressive, openly queer woman. There’s a weird expectation that girls are somehow more in touch with their feelings (this is dumb). But also we live in a heteronormative society, and it’s unusual for us to see out queer folks who haven’t had to actually think critically about their emotions and come to terms with with them. Which, Gideon has not done.
So she’s in this position where she does not think that Harrowhark is capable of feeling affection or love, and that the strongest emotion Harrow is capable of is hate. Gideon knows 100% for a fact that Harrow hates her, so that means she is important to Harrow.
Except that Harrow *is* apparently capable of love and affection. Which means that when she says that she doesn’t think about Gideon that often because there are things she cares about more, she’s not just saying it to get under Gideon’s skin. Which means that Gideon isn’t as important to Harrow as she thought she was. And this upsets her deeply for reasons she can’t fully explain or understand.
On the other hand you have Harrow, she just told her greatest secret, and received forgiveness, understanding, and genuine human comfort in return. So she looks at the world as though it is filled with egg-eating snakes and she is protecting an egg. So she makes Gideon promise to go home and do the thing her family has been tasked with for generations. We, as the audience, have only gotten like five scenes with Harrowhark fully aware of everything post pool-scene, and in two of them she is destroying herself so that Gideon can have even the smallest chance of life.
Because Gideon just had her heart broken into a thousand tiny shards and can’t even express why, meanwhile Harrow thinks they’re married now.
If they had just a few more hours to talk to each other afterwards I fully believe that they would have worked a lot of this shit out. I guess that’s the tragedy. Even in their moment of seeing each other clearly for the first time, they still don’t understand each other.
#the locked tomb#gideon the ninth#gideon nav#tlt#harrowhark nonagesimus#tlt spoilers#gideon the ninth spoilers#tlt gideon#tlt harrow#griddlehark#the sheep ramble analysis
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Can I request headcanons for Calcharo, and Jiyan with shy gn s/o?
Jiyan
He doesn’t mind your shyness, not one bit.
He’s not exactly someone who can actively engage in socialising, especially not when most of his time was spent on the frontlines talking about strategies, supplies and coming up with ways in which they would avoid having mass casualties.
So if anything he’s the last person to judge you on your shyness. It would be unfair.
Jiyan is the person you go to for comfort, for advice because he brings you a lot of clarity and certainty unlike any other that you feel as though you could go to him for anything and he would try his best to help you, which is true.
He didn’t mind it when you practically tried to hide yourself behind him whenever there were people talking to him, he just reached a hand behind him in search of your own and holds it reassuringly until the group leaves, where he would then ask if you were okay.
Jiyan would much rather spend time with you in a secluded spot away from everyone, watching the Gulpuffs swim by as you both sat underneath the shade of a trees then be anywhere else if it made you happy.
He’s always preferred moments of peace and quiet after dealing with the chaotic and unpredictable situations he’s use to on the front lines, is sometimes he finds it hard to make his body relax and enjoy life when his eyes were always looking for the next big threat. So being in those moments of peace and quiet with you made jiyan relax easier as he had someone he deeply cared for to share this moment with.
He’d even find it even more peaceful if you were to fall asleep against his side, comfortable with him enough to allow yourself to be in a vulnerable position as he’s left to watch over you as you slept, always guarding you from everything and anything that would do you any harm.
Bonus if he falls asleep soon after, resting his head atop of yours and it acts as a cute moment to look back on with fondness and gratitude that you stayed by his side.
Jiyan worries that might not always be there for you due to his duty as General, he also worries that he might not make it back to you one day, that one day he’ll see you for the last time before going back to the frontlines to face the new threat.
So he makes you promise to plant a flower just for him if that were to ever be the case and you hugged him as tightly as possible in response, muttering that he wouldn’t die, jiyan wordlessly hugged you back equally as tightly, internally wishing that your words held truth to them for the future was always uncertain; now more then ever.
Calcharo (I love this Vergil/sepihroth looking beauty)
Another man who doesn’t care whether you were shy or not.
At first he might’ve intimidated you but after several instances where you were shown that he was far from the stories -or misconceptions as he’d call them- that you’ve heard about him and his group.
He’s a gentle and sweet man when you saw past the perpetually grumpy, brooding air about him.
He’s more or less protective over you and wants to keep you safe from anything and everything, human or not, no one was safe from his wrath if he were to be made aware of you being in any danger.
So Calcharo tries to stay close to you however he can so that he could keep an eye out for shifty characters with ill intentions, he does not tolerate it when people take advantage of people who couldn’t stand up for themself, it was pathetic and cowardly in his eyes and he want about to let you be their next target.
He’s a man of few words but that’s because he mainly lets his actions do most of the talking. So if he saw there was something you’d like but couldn’t find the voice to speak about it, he would silently stalk away and come back to present you with the thing you wanted in hand.
Calcharo could read you like a book and knew what you wanted and needed by a few simple bodily gestures. He wanted you to feel comfortable with him and he knew that takes time because he too took time to get accustomed to having someone in his life.
‘Do- do you ever get tired of me?’ You asked one day and Calcharo could tell it took all the willpower you had just to come up to him and say it.
‘What do you mean by that dearest?’ He said as he watched as you internally fight to get the words out and growing frustrated with yourself when you went to open your mouth, only for nothing but silence to come out.
‘Take your time.’ He calmly reminds you and you took a deep breath.
‘It’s just- I know I’m shy and struggle with doing things on my own such as order a meal or making doctors appointments, but I can’t help but think that maybe you’re getting tired of me for not doing things on my own.’ You admitted to him, finally getting the weight off of your chest as you stared at the brooding man in front of you, worried about what he might say.
‘I do not grow tired of you, I don’t think It’s right of me to grow tired of you when all you’ve ever been doing is trying your best.’ Calcharo replied as he stood in front of you and slowly reach for your hand and caresses the back of it with his thumb. ‘Your shyness is far from an issue for me and you shouldn’t have to be expected to be perfect at everything just to keep a partner or a friend.’ He squeezes your hand reassuringly. ‘So no, I do not grow tired of you.’
Calcharo couldn’t care less if you were shy or not, you were his partner and he cared for you immensely, which to him should be enough proof.
He may not be the best lover but for you, he tries.
#wuwa#wuthering waves#wuwa x reader#wuwa x you#wuwa imagines#wuwa imagine#wuthering waves x reader#wuthering waves x you#Wuthering waves imagine#Wuthering waves imagines#calcharo x reader#calcharo x you#calcharo imagine#calcharo imagines#jiyan x reader#jiyan x you#jiyan imagine#jiyan imagines
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S-I-M-P. ( HOTD x Reader )
author note: The top vote has won! Modern! Aemond it is! Plus, your Aemond simp's have been neglected by me for too long..
pairing: Modern! Aemond Targaryen x Wife! Reader
prompt: I was listening to 'Submissive & Breedable' by Smosh as a joke when writing this. So take it as you will.. Lol
word count: 1, 000+ words
When you and Aemond met five years ago, you literally knocked him off his feet. Not in some cute metaphoric sense, like you walked past him as if you were some super model on the runway, or your eyes met across the room like in some cheesy rom com. But you accidentally smacked him in the face with a door. A literal ‘knocking him off his feet’.
After a thousand apologies from you, some tissues for his bloody nose, and a crappy slice of pizza, were shared. It was perfect. You and him were perfect, a little chaotic at times. But, he liked to joke that it was love at first hit. Which was why he wasted no time to put a ring on your finger and officially make you ‘Mrs Targaryen’. He would have no other woman, but you.
Watching as you help his Mother set up the kitchen table, Aemond couldn’t help the lovesick grin spread on his face, feeling like a puppy. You, his wife, were just perfect. Gods, he loved thinking and hearing about it, you, his wife. You, his wife. Letting out a pathetic giddy giggle under his breath, he knew it was pathetic, but he couldn’t help it. You were just everything to him and there was something so…so perfect about being able to officially be with you for forever that was so amazing and giddy. If he wouldn’t get mocked for it, he’d be floating after you like a cartoon.
“She has you so whipped. Pathetic.” Aegon jokes, “Like a Simp.”
“At least I am not you, twenty-five, single and living with our parents. What’s it like being a leech and burden to our mother, Aegon?” Aemond insults, the words falling out without a moment's hesitation.
“Ouch.” Aegon scowls, all joy in teasing Aemond dying in an instant.
“Yes, well, I am going to see my wife now. You know, because I have someone to go home to.” Aemonds adds, purposefully rubbing it in his face now.
“That’s cold.”
“Mayhaps, but it’s the truth.” Aemond nods, taking a sip of his beer.
Snorting as Aegon sulks deeply at the insults and gabs, he cracks a smile as he hears your laughter, his head turning without hesitation. Seeing you laugh at something Helaena said, he brightens up in an instant, perking up in his seat. Any thoughts of bickering with or insulting Aegon are long forgotten. Standing up from his seat, he doesn’t spare Aegon a glance, his attention on you.
“It was all in good humor.” Aegon mumbles, taking a sip of his beer.
“Mmm-hm, well, I am going to see my wife. Enjoy yourself.” Aemond mumbles, his eyes on you
“Simp.” Aegon mocks, “Does she also boss you around during sex?”
“No, but at least I am getting some, unlike you. Enjoy your left hand, Aegon. Cause it's all you will be spending your time with.” Aemond mocks back, not bothering to see the fallout.
Feeling a familiar arm wrap around your waist, you turn your head in an instant, perking up at the sight of your husband there. There was something so nice about being able to call him that. Aemond Targaryen, the grumpiest man you knew, was all yours. Smiling brightly, you stand up on your tippy-toes to reach his face, pressing a gentle kiss onto his cheek for a moment. Feeling him melt into your touch, you perk up at it, enjoying the small reaction you could get from it.
“Hello, love.” You mumble, the affectionate nickname falling from your lips naturally.
“Hello there, what are you three up to?” He whispers, pressing a kiss onto your cheek.
“Just gossip and good fun.” You dismiss, a little too quickly.
“What kind?” He asks, humming softly.
“We are just talking about stuff, Aemond. Don’t worry, it’s gossip and stuff.” You wave off, not wanting to know the truth.
He’d be mortified if he knew the truth of your conversations, practically melt into the kitchen floor if he knew his Mother had made a joke about his grumpy cat-like mannerisms and how he glowed when around you. Feeling his grip tighten around your waist for a moment, you tense up for a moment, fearing that he’d attempt to tickle the answer out of you. That was the last thing you wanted to happen whilst his family was visiting.
“Well, now I am suspicious.” He teases, a warm smile on his lips.
“It’s nothing, love.” You lie, attempting to brush it off.
“You promise, nothing bad?” He asks, his voice gentle.
“Nothing bad. I promise. It’s all just teasing and lighthearted. You know it’d do nothing bad.” You reassure, a gentle smile on your lips.
Watching his reaction carefully, he presses a gentle kiss onto your cheek and neck, his chin resting on your shoulder. He looked so beautiful in his light, all calm and droopy eyed. Chuckling at the way he lazily clings onto you, you welcome the gentle touch, savoring how comforting it felt. Mayhaps, his Mother was right in a way, he was different around you. A tiny pout on his lips instead of the usual scowl. His eyes droopy and soft, instead of hard and calculated.
“You know that I love you, right?” He whispers, burying his face into the crook of your neck.
“Hmm?”
“I said, you know that I love you, Y/n?” He mumbles, his voice gentle.
“I do.” You chuckle, enjoying hearing him say it.
Shaking your head with a soft giggle, there was this soft dopey look on his face, it was hard to tell if he was fully sober or not. But, a tiny part of you didn’t care in the slightest. Just hearing him say that he loved you, it was the best thing to ever exist. Pressing a gentle kiss onto his cheek once more, he lets out a low hum of approval, his eyes shutting for a moment.
“I love you. I love you. I love you.” He whispers over and over, “I love you. I love you.”
“You are drunk.” You chuckle, shaking your head.
“A little. But, I get to call you my wife so it does not matter.” He shrugs, making it obvious he was slightly tipsy.
“You are going to regret this in the morning, you do realize that, right?” You joke, the soft smile on your lips growing.
“I can handle Aegon’s teasing. But, so long as you keep on smiling like that, it’s worth a hangover.” He whispers, nothing but love glimmering in his eyes.
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#house of the dragon#house of dragons#house of dragons x reader#house of the dragon x reader#hotd imagine#hotd imagines#hotd x reader#aemond targaryen imagines#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond targaryen x reader#hotd aemond#aemond targaryen#aemond one eye#prince aemond#aemond x reader#ewan mitchell
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STILL IN LOVE! #5 — TOJI FUSHIGURO
SYNOPSIS...after still messing around with your ex husband, you began to wonder if you’re still in love with him after finding out about his new girlfriend…
INFO...ex husband!toji x fem!reader, reader & toji have two kids, megumi is readers bio son, jealousy, smut, angst, arguments, alcohol, drinking problem, family problems, arguing in front of kids, toxic behaviors, crying, mentions of divorce
OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated
It’s been an entire month since your argument with Toji. Neither of you had said a word to each other, not even when he comes to pick up or drop off the kids. He keeps his distance, not bothering to wait by the door with them, instead he waits on the sidewalk and waved goodbye to them when you open the door. It seems like the kids haven’t took notice of the hostility between you and your ex husband and you wanted to keep it that way. You didn’t want them to witness anymore than they already have. Occasionally, Naya asks if she can go over Toji’s more often, growing an attachment to her father, but you always have to explain to her that he’s busy working during the week. It breaks your heart knowing that your children aren’t growing up with a fully family. You know deep down, they question why they have to go back and forth between houses just to see their father, or wondering why their mommy and daddy aren’t together like the other kids. But knowing how young they are, they wouldn’t understand a single thing. Hopefully when they’re older, they’ll learn from the mistakes you and Toji have made.
You and Nanami have been going strong recently, finding that he makes you forget about the hardships in your life. He hasn’t met the kids yet, which you don’t plan on letting happen anytime soon. He’s a nice guy, great intentions, but you want to take things slow before overstepping your own boundaries. He has took you out on two more dates ever since the first one, and each time he impresses you more and more. It feels like you can be open with him, comfortable without getting judged. He’s also a great listener, not saying a word and just letting you vent all of your feelings out until you feel better. He puts a smile on your face when he knows you’re feeling down or thinking about something that stresses you out. And most of all, he doesn’t mention what happened that morning when Toji showed up at your house. You know he heard most of everything and it was embarrassing to say the least. Toji embarrassed you.
“Mommy, can I go see daddy?” You daughter tapped your leg as you were cutting up her and megumi some fruit to snack on.
You looked down at her with a soft smile. “Tomorrow, baby. You’re gonna see him tomorrow.” You popped a raspberry in her mouth, her favorite fruit.
“Dad’s been drinking a lot.” Megumi walked into the kitchen, stealing a piece of pineapple off of the cutting board.
“What do you mean?” You immediately question, placing the knife down.
“Beer. He gets uncle Gojo to buy it for him and drinks a whole bunch,” he explained. Your lips pursed together, inhaling deeply before you let out a frustrated sigh. You shook your head in disappointment, trying not to show the anger flowing through you right now.
“So can we go see him? I’m worried!” You daughter batted her eyelashes at you, a small frown on her face. No wonder she’s been asking to see Toji so much, it all makes sense now.
“How about you guys call him to say goodnight, mommy isn’t driving right now. Plus, it’s late.” You picked up the knife, cutting more pineapple into smaller chunks.
“Please! Please! Please, mommy!” You daughter grabbed onto the hem of your shirt, nearly ripping it off of you with the way she was begging.
“Naya, cut it out! Mom said no!” Megumi slightly raised his voice, an annoyed look on his face.
“I wasn’t asking you, dummy!” Her brows furrowed in anger, her gaze now on her brothers.
“Shut up, idiot!” Megumi shouted back.
“Aye! Cut the shit!” You warned, sharing looks between both of them. Naya huffed, stomping her little feet over to the living room. “I don’t need you guys calling each other names, alright? Naya, I said no, and that means no. And Megs, stop being mean.”
“She called me it first!” He exclaimed.
“I don’t care who did it first! I don’t need y’all fighting. Naya, come here!” You shouted from the kitchen. “Eh, stay here.” You pointed at Megumi when he tried to walk away. He let out an annoyed sigh leaning against the counter. “Naya!” She turned the corner with a frown on her face, eyes watery as she looked up at you. “Baby, what’s wrong?” As soon as you asked her that question she burst into tears. Before you could even place the knife down, Megumi picked her up and held her in his arms while she cried.
“Ny-ny, what’s wrong? I’m sorry I called you an idiot, okay? I was mad, but I shouldn’t have said that,” he said softly, rubbing her back as she cried on his shoulder. The little girl hiccuped softly, wrapping her arms around her brothers neck tightly. “Do you wanna tell mommy what’s wrong?” He asked, looking at her. He brought his hand up to her face, wiping the tears.
“Da…daddy!” She sobbed, trying to catch her breath. “I wanna see…daddy!” Tears streamed down her chubby cheeks as she laid her head back on her brothers shoulder. Megumi turned to look at you, and you could see that he was also worried about his father, even if he wasn’t as vocal as it. “Mommy!” She cried.
You reached your hands out, picking her up from Megumi and holding her to your chest. “You really wanna see daddy?” You asked, wiping off her tears with your shirt. She nodded, still whimpering and sniffling. She rubbed her puffy eyes, little fists holding onto the fabric of your shirt. “Okay, we’ll go see daddy then. Megs, put your shoes on.”
You held Naya’s hand as you walked up the steps with them. She had a little smile on her face, excited to all hell to see her father. Megumi rang the doorbell, waiting patiently with you in the cold. “You excited, huh?” You chuckled, looking down at your daughter.
“Who is it?” Toji’s deep voice spoke from the other side of the door.
“Dad, it’s us!” Megumi answered. You were a little nervous to see him, knowing that this was going to be an unexpected surprise, but you had a very valid reason for showing up here. Toji unlocked the door, confusion written all over his face when he seen you and his two kids standing outside in the cold. He barely had time to register the situation before Naya ran over to him and hugged him.
“Daddy!” She yelled followed by a giggle.
“Hey, peanut!” He picked her up like she weighed nothing, sitting her on his hip and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “What’re doing here so early, huh?” He asked with a smile.
“She’s been asking about you all day…all week actually,” you spoke. “She started crying cause she missed you so much, so I brought her over here,” you explained.
Naya fiddled with her dads lip scar, as Toji stood there and stared at you for a few minutes. It’s like he almost forgot how you sounded, it’s been so long. “Well, uh, would you like to come in or are you just dropping them off?” He asked, clearing his throat.
“Yeah, I’ll come in.” The only reason you accepted was because you wanted to speak to him about his drinking problem that Megumi suddenly brought up.
“Hi, buddy.” Toji ruffled Megumi’s hair, giving him a kiss on top of his head. He closed the door behind you, your eyes immediately taking notice of the four beer cans that sat on his coffee table. A rush of disappointment came washing over you as you continued to stare at them. “Don’t mind the mess,” he awkwardly chuckled, quickly trying to clean up as he sat Naya down on the couch.
You stuffed your hands in your coat pocket, standing in the middle of the living room as he grabbed the cans and quickly took them into the kitchen. “I told you,” Megumi whispered. Toji walked back into the living room, looking at you.
“So, uh, she was crying you said?” He asked.
“Yeah,” you nodded, “she…she was like full on sobbing for you. Scared me shitless at first if I’m being honest.”
“Ny-ny, you can’t be scaring mommy like that.” Toji walked over, pinching her cheeks until she giggled. You watched the scene in front of you, seeing the smile on your daughter’s face when she was with Toji made your heart swell. “If you want, I can take them early, and come pick up their stuff tomorrow. You look…tired.”
You shrugged. “Just a little. It’s been a long week.” Toji nodded in agreement, standing back up right as all you stood there in silence while the two kids watched whatever was on the tv. “Toji, can I speak with you?”
“Yeah, yeah, what’s up?” He asked.
“In private.” You stared at him.
“Um, yeah. Megs, Ny, stay here, okay? Watch whatever you wanna watch.” He smiled at them.
“Megs, can we watch The Incredibles again?” Naya clung to her brothers arm as he grabbed the remote.
You followed Toji down the hallway to his bedroom. “How have you been?” You asked, shutting the door behind you.
“Me? I’ve been fine. How are you?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. Your eyes were locked onto him as you stood there by the door. Toji had a confused expression on his face. “Something wrong?”
“How have you been, Toji?” This time you asked with more sternly, clenching your jaw.
“I don’t get…I don’t get it.” He looked around the room as if he was being pranked, awkwardly rubbing his hands on his thighs.
“Megs told me about your drinking problem. You got Gojo going out and buying beer for you all the time? Getting drunk when the kids are here?! I can smell it on your breath!” You yelled in a whisper, folding your arms across your chest.
“I only drink enough to get tipsy, okay? I wouldn’t get drunk around the kids, y/n,” he sighed, holding his head in his hands.
You scoff, “like that makes it any better. Naya keeps asking about you because she’s worried, crying her eyes out because of it, because she misses you. Megumi doesn’t say a word about how he feels, but I can tell he’s scared, Toji. You had four beers on the fucking coffee table when I walked in!” You exclaimed, eyebrows raised.
“I know,” he sighed. “I’m sorry. I just…I’m dealing with shit, y/n.” He rested his elbows on his knees, looking down at the floor.
“We are all dealing with shit, Toji, but you gotta be there for our kids! I’m not here to argue with you, okay? I just want to know what is going on. The kids want to know what’s going on.” You looked at him with concern as he avoided your gaze completely, head still hung low.
“I can’t say it.” Toji looked up, finally locking eyes with you.
“Why?” You asked.
“Because it won’t matter, y/n. I’ve made mistakes, and I’m dealing with them. That’s all there is to it.” He bit the inside of his cheek, closing his eyes.
Your expression softened. There was no need for Toji to explain what he was talking about because you already knew. He was talking about you guys, your relationship, your marriage, your family. “It wasn’t just you, Toji,” you spoke softly. “It was me too. We grew apart. It happens.”
He shook his head. “You were only acting that way because of how I was treating you. It’s not your fault so don’t say it was, please. I’m the one who fucked it up. Back then I fucked it up, and now I’m fucking it up. Every time I got something good going on I find a way to ruin it.”
“Toji…” Your voice was barely above a whisper.
He stood up from his spot on the bed and walked towards you, his muscular and tall frame trapping you against the door. “I’m sorry. I miss you, I miss what we had, mama. You gotta understand me.” He cupped your face in his hands.
“No, no, don’t do that.” You shook your head, removing his hands from you.
“Do what, mama?” He asked softly.
“That, Toji.” You kept shaking your head at him. “I can’t. We can’t.”
“Why not? Hm?” He tried to catch your eye.
“I’m with someone else,” you bluntly said. Your heart was beating loudly in your chest, almost deafening in your ears as you stood there against the door. There was nothing but silence from Toji. He took a step back from you.
“Is it him?” Toji asked. All you did was nod. He scoffed. “So y’all are really together?”
“Yeah, we are,” you answered. “He treats me good, makes me happy.”
“So you don’t love me anymore?” Toji questioned.
“I didn’t say that!” You looked at him in disbelief.
“That’s not what you said the last time we spoke to each other. What you said fucking hurt me. You hate me. You wish you never married me. Remember that?” Toji cocked his head to the side.
“I was upset, Toji.” You rolled your eyes.
“You just don’t say shit like that, y/n. Never once in our entire relationship together have I said some shit like that to you.” He stood there, waiting for you to say something, but you didn’t.
“Well, I don’t know what you want me to say! I came here because Naya was worried about you and Megumi told me about your drinking problem. That’s all I came to talk about! I didn’t come to talk about what we had going on, okay? So just fucking drop it. I’m happier, I’m better. I’m getting treated the way I deserve to be treated for the first time in my life." You snapped.
“For the first time in your life? Are you hearing how you sound right now? I know I wasnt perfect, but I did everything I could to make you happy. Yes, there were some things I could’ve done better, but I loved you like you were supposed to be loved. Why else would I marry you?” Toji walked towards you again.
“Then you should’ve showed that love. Just know I’ll be better without you.” You opened the bedroom door, walking down the hallway.
“Y/n!” Toji shouted. He followed after you as you ignored him. “Y/n!” He shouted again.
“Stop following me, Toji! I’m leaving!” You screamed.
Megumi and Naya looked over at both of you, seeing you two yelling. “I’m not done talking to you!” Toji grabbed your wrist, pulling you back.
“Well, I am!” You snatched your arm back from him.
“Stop it!” Megumi yelled, covering his little sisters ears.
You and Toji looked over at the kids sitting on the couch, Naya’s eyes watery, lip wobbly as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Megumi shared looks between both of you, concern and fear written on his face. “Come on, let’s go back home. You’ll see daddy tomorrow.”
“I wanna stay!” Naya pouted.
“Naya, please, get in the car.” You sighed in frustration, grabbing her hand.
“No! No!” She started screaming, dropping to the floor and kicking around, throwing a tantrum.
“Get up, Naya! I’m not gonna ask you again!” You lifted her off of the floor, grabbing her hand again. She pulled away from you, running over to Toji, hugging his legs.
“Fine. Fine. Stay with your father. I’ll see both of you in a few days. I love you.” You grabbed your keys from your coat pocket, walking to the front door, slamming it shut behind you.
“Come here, baby girl.” Toji picked his daughter up.
“You two always fight! I hate it!” Megumi stormed out of the living room and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him, making Naya jump. Toji stood there in the living room with his daughter, a lump forming in his throat. He let out a choked sob, immediately hiding his face from his daughter.
“Daddy, don’t cry.” She wiped his tears away.
“I’m sorry, baby girl.” He sniffled. Your family was falling apart right in front of Toji’s eyes. Megumi is looking for a way out of this family at such a young age, indulging in video games and tv to drown out the real problems. Naya conflicted with her feelings, crying constantly because of the state both of you were in, affecting her. Nothing is like it was before. Toji hated this was happening. This is was last thing he ever wanted.
You sat in your car outside of his house, wiping your tears from how overwhelmed you were. You were at a loss on how to fix this. Each time you tried, it ended the same. You were fearful it was going to keep getting worse, worse until there was no way to reverse the damage done.
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toxic - toji fushiguro
✦ synopsis: toji fushiguro is your ex husband/baby daddy of your children, Megumi and Isla. It's been 2 years since your divorce and things have been nothing short of toxic. toji has probably slept with most of the city, while you've had 1 boyfriend within the past 2 years that never even met the kids. one day when toji drops off the kids, he smells another man's cologne on you.
✦ content warnings: toji fushiguru x fem! reader, 18+ unprotected sex, toji is toxic af (still luv him tho), lactation kink, angst, infidelity (don't do this pls), mentions of pregnancy, reader can speak Spanish.
You hear the sound of tires rolling onto your driveway signaling that your children are home from their weekend at their fathers.
You just got back from a man's house, a man that you've been seeing for a few weeks. He's sweet, kind, and doesn't make you feel crazy.
You heard your children giggling outside of the door, ready to come in the house and play.
"Mommy!" The younger one, Isla said as you opened the front door.
"Hi my babies." You hugged both of them tightly - Megumi is 6 and Isla is 4. "Did you have fun at daddy's house?"
"We did! Daddy brought us to the pool and I can finally swim without swimmies!" Megumi smiled as he leaned into your leg.
"Ay, we didn't discuss him taking his swimmies off yet." You glared at the tall man leaning against the doorframe through your lashes. Your accent comes off a little strong when you're angry.
"He was ready." Toji shrugged. He's wearing a tight, black t-shirt and black jeans to match. He's very muscular, he could probably lift you with his pinky. His biceps looked like they were about to rip through his sleeves.
"Can daddy stay for dinner?" Isla pulled on the hem of your shirt. "I heard his tummy growling in the car."
You looked at your two beautiful children, then at Toji. "Sure."
Megumi and Isla cheered as they ran to their rooms. You walked into the kitchen to stir the sauce you were preparing for dinner.
Toji followed you into the kitchen silently, like a predator stalking their prey.
"You know where the TV is." You waved your hand without even looking at him.
"I'm looking at you, mama." Toji's mouth formed into a smirk.
"Well take a picture it'll last longer. Then leave me alone." You pressed your hand to your hip as you stirred.
"I have a lot of pictures of you already. Videos, too."
"You're disgusting." You started boiling a pot of water for the pasta. "Were the kids okay this weekend?"
"Yeah." Toji slid onto the barstool. "They're always good."
"Mm." You nod. You know they're good because of you. Toji is around as much as he can be, but he likes to sleep around with various women which can take up a lot of time.
"Isla has your eyes." Toji leaned on the kitchen island, his eyes burning a trail on your body from head to toe.
"Maybe that's because I birthed her. Have you been making sure they learn Spanish when they're at your house?"
"I don't speak Spanish. So no. That's something you do."
"We both have to do it or else they won't learn. Megumi can speak pretty well in Spanish, but Isla wants to be just like you so she hasn't been speaking it. When I talk to her in Spanish, she answers in English."
"I mean, that means she understands, right?"
You sucked your teeth. "Fuck!" You yelped as you burn your hand.
Toji ran to you, pressing his body against yours as you examine your burn. You felt his hard abs on your back - you remember how sculpted he is. Like a fucking Greek God.
"I don't need your help." You swat his hand away as he tries to grab your hand.
Toji stands still for a moment, his head leaning down toward your neck. You can feel his breath dance along your skin before he inhales deeply through his nose.
"Where were you today?" His voice was low, almost a whisper.
"None of your damn business." You take your not burnt hand and push his chest gently so he's farther away from you.
"You don't smell like the perfume you usually wear."
"Nice observation." You raised your eyebrows. "What do you want me to say?" You placed both of your hands on the counter. "I have needs, Toji. And unlike you - standards. I'm lucky if I can find one man that I can go on more than 1 date with."
"What's his name?" He walks opposite of you to the other side of the counter.
"What is this, 21 questions? He's not meeting the kids any time soon so him and his name don't concern you."
"Can he fuck that pretty little pussy better than me?" His voice was smooth like velvet.
But one thing about you - you know all of Toji's tricks. You know what makes him tick. What makes his eye twitch.
"Matter of fact, he does. He stuffs me full." You emphasize the word 'full', biting your lower lip before you say the word.
"Tsk." Toji pushed the barstool into the kitchen island and walked into the living room. You knew that would get him the hell away from you.
"That was yummy mommy! Thank you." Megumi gave you a toothy smile as you took his plate. "Can daddy start my bath?"
"He absolutely can." You catch yourself glaring at Toji as you speak. He's been suspiciously silent since your discussion in the kitchen.
Isla helped (as much as she could) clean up the kitchen as Toji helped Megumi with his bath. Then he helped with Isla and her bedtime routine. You could hear her giggling in the bathroom as he played with her.
You and Toji tucked Isla in first in her room, then Megumi in his room. They both seemed so happy to see both of their parents in the same place. Not arguing, at least in front of them, for once.
"Goodnight baby." You push Megumi's hair to the side and kiss his forehead. He looks just like Toji it's scary.
"Night mommy, night daddy." Toji kissed Megumi's cheek.
You closed his door gently and walked to what used to be your shared room with Toji. "Get home safe." You say as you start to brush your hair.
"Never said I was leaving, mama." Toji walked into your room and closed the door gently, careful not to wake the kids.
"This is my house, the kids are asleep so you have no excuse to be here." You turn to face Toji thinking he was a few feet from you.
When you turn, you almost hit yourself in the face with his chiseled chest. How is he so quiet?
"I do have an excuse to be here." Toji brought his calloused hand to your cheek, caressing it gently. "You."
"Don't touch me." You swat his hand away. "You can leave now."
"We're just getting started sweetheart." Toji peered at you through his long lashes. "Your boyfriend won't mind, will he?"
"He will mind." You take a step back from him. "I don't want to fuck the city's community dick."
"You loved this dick before, 'member baby?" Toji took a step toward you. "You used to beg me to give you another baby."
"Keyword is used to." You place your hand on his chest and push gently. "You make me crazy, Fushiguro. I don't want to feel crazy anymore."
"Mm, say my name again." Toji whispered, his eyes moving from your eyes to your chest. "You wore that lace number for me, didn't ya doll?"
You didn't answer. Instead, you turned around on your heel and walked toward your bed. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight."
"We're just getting started baby girl." He grabbed your wrist, pulling you back into him.
"I'm seeing someone Toji, I can't." You look up into his dark blue eyes. "I like him. I really, really like him."
"Well isn't that just the sweetest thing." He dragged his finger along the side of your face, trailing to your chin. "He doesn't have to know."
You inhaled Toji's familiar scent, memories flooding of your failed marriage into your mind. You can't lie, you've thought about having sex with Toji a lot. Especially right after the divorce. The first few women he slept with after you bruised your ego, but after that you decided to be done wishing he would come back.
Done wishing he would act right.
But damn, do you miss his dick.
"Come on, baby. Let me make you feel good." Toji leaned into your space, pressing his lips against yours slowly. Your lips were like magnets when they met, refusing to take even a breath because you want to savor the moment.
You buried your hands in his straight, black hair as he lifts you up effortlessly, his hands planted on the fat of your ass.
"Damn, this thing got bigger didn't it?" Toji gave your ass cheek a squeeze as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You moaned at the new sensation in your mouth, your core already heating up.
"Bed, mmm, now." You suck on his tongue gently, saliva connecting your mouths when you pull away from each other.
Toji threw you on your back onto the bed gently, watching your tits jiggle in your lace tank top. He caged you with his sculpted arms as he kissed your skin from your neck, to your chest, your soft stomach, to the top of your sweatpants.
"I can't believe you carried my two beautiful children in there." Toji kissed your stomach, a spot you've always been insecure about. "I'm gonna give you 'nother one, mama." He growled as he pulled down your sweatpants swiftly. "No panties, hm? You wanted this to happen, didn't you?"
Your cheeks burn red and you cover your face with your hands.
"I've seen all of you, baby. No point in hiding." His large, heavy hands landed on top of yours as he moved your hands off your face.
In that moment, it felt like there was no one in the word but you and Toji. Like it was the beginning of your relationship and you were obsessed with each other.
Like it used to be.
Toji got lost in your eyes for a moment before pressing his lips to yours for a deep, affectionate kiss. It wasn't like the frenzied kiss from before.
He wanted to remember this moment.
With his ex wife.
The mother of his children.
You cradle his face in your dainty hands as you kiss him, letting your tongue slip in and out of his mouth.
"Missed you, mama." He whispered against your lips.
You didn't verbally answer, only deepening the kiss in response. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of saying you missed him too.
Even though you did.
And actions speak louder than words.
Toji knew how to take care of your body. He did for years. He starts with your mouth, then he leaves love bruises bites on your neck, making his way to your chest. Arguably his favorite part of your body.
After you had your children, your body changed a lot. You were never chiseled like Toji, you were always soft, but the kids made your tits bigger, your stomach softer, and your hips wider.
Toji's lips attached to your collarbone as he left a trail of heated kisses to your right breast, using his hand to gently pull down the delicate lacey fabric.
"These tits, my God." Toji flicked your nipple with his index finger. "I can't believe I've been without them for so long."
You moaned softly at the contact, your body seemingly remember how many times Toji has made you come. How many times he's pleasured you to the point that you couldn't walk. You arched your back towards him at his touch.
"Easy, mama. Let me savor this moment, yeah?" His eyes were locked on yours as he brought his mouth to your hard nub, his hand kneading your left breast. He sucked gently as he stared into your eyes, refusing to break eye contact.
"Fuck, Toji." You arch your back again, bringing your hand to the back of his head as he sucks on your tit.
"Remember when these were full of milk? And you let me try it?" His smirk was sinister.
You bit down on your bottom lip, thinking about when you discovered one of Toji's many kinks.
"Answer me." He let go of your nipple with a 'pop'.
"Y-yes." You nod, pulling on his hair gently.
"I'm gonna put another baby in you, and we're doing that again."
"Toji," You moan his name at the thought of him covering your insides with his juices.
"You want me to, don't ya?" Toji was at your other nipple now, giving it the same attention as the other.
You nod when he bites your nipple when you don't answer him verbally. "Don't act like I don't know how you fuck, baby." He sucked on the skin next to your nipple, leaving a purple and red bruise that will for sure be sore tomorrow.
"I need you." You whine when his lips meet yours again.
"You're missing something there." Toji teased. "You need to use your words mama."
"I need you, Daddy."
Toji flipped the both of you over so he was now laying on the bed, maneuvering himself to lean on the headboard as he pulled you on his lap. He attacked your lips with frenzied kisses as you palmed his erection that's pressing against his sweatpants.
He's so, so big. So girthy. You wondered if he would still be able to fit inside you.
"No one touches me like you do, baby girl." Toji grabbed your face with his hands as he continued to kiss you.
He used one hand to press your cheeks together, a smile forming on his face as he looks at your chubby cheeks. "You're so damn beautiful."
You slid your palm back to his hard cock, rubbing it gently on top of the fabric. You feel your core ache as you touch him - your fingers tracing along the length.
"Ride me." Toji leaned into your ear and whispered before he kissed your earlobe.
He didn't have to ask you twice.
He quickly removed his sweatpants and boxers, his large length slapping against his stomach. You moan at the sight. He's beautiful.
You throw your pajama pants to the side, your core wet and hot, waiting for his cock to fill you.
You stare at him for a moment - he's naked, on your bed, waiting for you to sit on his cock. You kissed the scar at the corner of his mouth before gently grabbing his length to align him with your needy pussy.
You never needed lube with Toji, even with how big he is. He always knew how to get you going.
He gently planed his hands on your hips and guided you down his length, both of you moaning at the contact. His size stretched you out, and inch by inch he watched his cock disappear inside of you.
Once you took all of him, you gained your rhythm. You placed your hands on his shoulders as you grind your hips against his.
"Atta girl." He slapped your ass as you moved up and down his length. "I missed you so much." He placed one of his hands on the small of your back, helping you keep up with your pace.
Toji loved when you moved your ass as you rode him, so you made sure you threw it back every time his eyes were on you.
"This pussy was made for me." He threw his head back as squelching, lewd sounds filled the room. He started pumping into you more - he's close.
"Toji," You moan loudly as his he brings his hands to your sensitive clit, rubbing circles as your body bounces on him. Your body twitches soon after. You're close.
"Come on mama, you know the rules. You come first."
Your pussy tightens around his length, his fingers still rubbing you as your mind explodes with euphoria. You ride out your orgasm, Toji thrusting into you roughly with disoriented strokes.
You feel his cock twitch inside of you as he pulls you down one last time, filling you up with his seed. It was almost leaking out of you.
Neither of you move from your position. You stare at each other, the thoughts and sounds of what just happened replaying in your heads.
"I did miss you." He whispered as he pressed his lips to yours.
"Mm." You kissed him back, afraid to get off his cock. You missed him too.
When you finally got off each other Toji suggested you shower together. The warm water mixed with the scents of your coconut body wash made it all the more sensual.
So you fucked again.
Soapy thrusts as he had to pinned to the wall, ass facing him.
"Love watching you from here." His eyes were glued on your ass bouncing against his cock. The suds from the soap slid down your skin, creating more lewd squelches.
You woke up in bed with your ex husband's strong, sculpted arms around you.
The sunlight snuck into the room through your blinds, the warmness kissing your skin. Your wearing your favorite pajama set, Toji's sweatpants hanging off of his hips, his v-line exposed.
Then you hear your door swing open.
"Mommy!" You hear Megumi's cute voice. "Wait, daddy? You slept over?"
Toji's eyes flew open. He looked at Megumi before grabbing him and pulling him in between you and Toji. Isla climbed into your bed soon after. You hugged both your children, and the father of your children.
The bed was full of giggles - Toji tickling both his babies and lifting them in the air. You haven't heard Megumi laugh like this in months.
You missed this. You missed your family.
You bring one of your hands to your stomach, your insides coated with Toji.
And you can't help but hope there's another little Fushiguro growing inside of you.
#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#jjk toji#toji x you#toji smut#fushiguro toji#jjk one shot#jjk x reader#jjk fanfic#toji fushigro x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#toji fanfic#mayajadewrites#daddy toji#jujutsu kaisen
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here's what i think it would be like if you had gotten with bruce first (yandere batfam!)
cw: yandere (like very slight i think), teensy bit of manipulation.. just a tiny bit...,
when you said you'd marry rich, you didn't think it would actually happen.
it was always said in jest; something you definitely would have loved to happen though understood your chances were slim to none.
then again, anything can happen in gotham.
like you getting engaged to bruce wayne, of all people. he's a stand up guy, really, with his charity balls and what not. but there's the matter of his rather unique family.
you'd understand if they lashed out a little, considering you're young enough to fit in with them, but they didn't. and you're not sure which you would prefer.
they're always eager to speak to you, talking to you about anything and (almost) everything. they're all a bit touchy as well, hands drifting from your shoulder to your waist, though you try not to look into it too deeply. especially when their charming smiles almost demand you not to mention it.
on one of the many nights you spend with bruce, you try bringing this up.
"um, about your kids..."
"hm?"
"they can be a bit... handsy sometimes. too close for comfort."
you feel strong arms wrap around you, and you instinctively hug him back, resting your head on his chest.
"that's just... how they are," no, it's absolutely not, but you don't know that. bruce had put off your meeting his kids for a while, long enough that he can excuse their out of character actions, "i know they can be a bit much, but they mean well, darling, i swear."
oh, well, now you feel like a dick.
you knew of everyone's complicated backgrounds, of what they get up to at night, so why would you dare try to make them feel guilty about it? after all, it wasn't their fault they were dealt a bad card in life.
you knew what you were getting into anyway; so what if they were a bit strange? aren't all rich people?
"i'm sure they do, but it's a little..."
"they just love you, sweetheart. we love you." more than you know.
bruce wonders what you would think when you find out his children love you like he does.
#yandere x reader#yandere batfam x reader#yandere dc#yandere batfam#dc x reader#bruce wayne x reader#— dc.#— yan writes.
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Theory: Why this second 'Interview' is happening
So a few weeks ago, Rolin Jones said that there was a reason the second interview had to happen, which will be revealed this season. And we would learn the reason why one character needed it to happen in ep 2x05; then we would learn why another character needed it to happen in 2x08 (the season finale).
Now the person we will learn needs the second interview to happen in episode 2x05 will, IMO, be Louis. For now, he seems the most clear as being one of the two people IMO. For, as we saw in ep 2x01 Louis knows he hasn't been remembering everything correctly, but that he really wants to. At the moment, Louis has been (deliberately) sidetracked from thinking/wondering if anything else he remembers might not be fully correct but, by ep 2x05, he'll start questioning that again IMO.
Plus, for some reason, Louis is very insistent on this interview taking place and happening no matter what. Because just thinking over everything that has happened storywise up to this point? I actually don't think Louis is in any way fully aware of just how off his memories are. I think he knows something feels off or wrong but he can't quite fully place what that is.
So yes, IMO, Louis is the first character who needed the second interview to happen.
But who is the second character who needed the second interview to happen? Well, this theory very much includes book spoilers (that IMO the show is very much hinting at) to talk about, so I'm giving fair warning right now: this theory very deeply goes into something from the books, as well as tying into another theory I have for what might happen at the end of the season. So, just to be safe, I'm going to place this next part under a spoiler cut:
The character who, IMO, will be revealed as needing this second interview to happen, which we will learn in ep 2x08, will be Claudia.
Yep. IMO Claudia is the one who needed the second interview to happen. Or, more importantly, her spirit/ghost does.
And what clicked this for me is remembering something Delainey herself noted in an interview before the season started which was -- yes, Claudia's journals are there but even they can't give you a full and accurate picture of Claudia and her story. So how can Claudia speak and tell her story?
And that is where this second interview comes in. Because, if you know the book, Merrick, then you know that book contained what was thought to be an appearance of Claudia's ghost/spirit. But that wasn't the only book where we see Claudia's ghost/spirit. We also see her in Tale of the Body Theif . . . or, at least Lestat sees her.
And who was the main antagonist of TotBT? Raglan James. Who, hell, even if Justin Kirk really isn't Raglan James (and is actually Marius or someone else) still works IMO -- in the context of hinting toward that storyline that had Lestat haunted by memories of Claudia and dealing with seeing her "spirit" talking to him.
Because yes, I do think very much that Louis is seeing Claudia's spirit right now, in some way. Just like he did in the book Merrick.
And it's from seeing her spirit and just feeling that something is wrong wrt all of what's going on about it, that has Louis so insistent that this second interview has to happen.
And it's why four other people have come to do this same thing Daniel is doing and either ended up dead . . . or undead.
Hell because again, if you know the story in Merrick then you know Merrick Mayfair herself is the one Louis enlisted to help him summon and speak to Claudia's spirit in the first place; and she ended up putting Louis under a spell to make him turn her into a vampire.
Maybe that comment from Raglan James was a hint about that having already happened to the show's version of Merrick Mayfair. Who's maybe already been there to help summon Claudia's spirit in the first place?
Anyway . . .
IMO, Claudia's ghost/spirit is not only around, but IMO she wants what really happened to her to be known; the truth of not only why Louis and Lestat created her, but how she was failed by them and, most of all, the full truth of not only how she felt about both of them about it all, but also the truth surrounding her death (The Frankenstein Experiment) to not just be revealed but understood . . . mainly understood by Louis and Lestat.
And no, the reason Claudia's spirit wants this isn't benevolent. Just as the spirit of Claudia in the books wasn't benevolent when Lestat and Louis encountered her in them. What she wants, I think most of all, is for them both to face the truth of their actions and what that makes them (in her eyes).
I don't think Louis knows all this of course. I think he just knows Claudia's spirit is still around for some reason and that he thinks going over everything that happened wrt his life will help him figure that reason out.
And after four previously failed attempts Daniel was brought in for the simple reason that, unlike maybe three of the first four, Armand won't kill Daniel to stop this whole thing. (And, you know, if Merrick Mayfair was the first of those four, Daniel can't steal either of their blood to try and make himself a vampire.)
And can I just say, if this theory is correct, then I don't think Claudia's spirit is going to rest after she convinces Louis to do in the show what her spirit in the book convinced him to do. Because again, Lestat also got haunted by the spirit of Claudia in TotBT. And while I'm not sure he'd see her spirit in Season 3 when he begins to tell his story and POV of things (and so when we see Claudia it will be when she's alive during flashback sequences) I do think the show would be setting up for her spirit to do so going forward after that.
Because spirit entities do play a major role in what is to come in the overall story I think the show is heading to (which I and others think will be a combination of the Akasha and Amel threats in Queen of the Damned and Prince Lestat). Starting off by showing Claudia as a spirit entity can be used to begin to ease non-book readers into this concept IMO.
And all of this fits very much with why Armand not only doesn't want this interview to happen but still reluctantly let it happen. Because, if you know his backstory, Armand very much can see spirits and ghosts unaided. That is how strong his Mind Gift abilities are. So if Claudia's spirit/ghost is around in the Dubai penthouse, Armand would very well know that. And so would very much not want her spirit hanging around anymore if at all possible. Because of what Claudia's spirit could, at some point, communicate about him. ("My name is in some of those pages.")
Because I do think that while Louis does know about the role Armand played in Claudia's death, IMO Louis doesn't know about The Frankenstein Experiment. Because, in the books, nobody knew about that -- least of all Louis and Lestat -- until Armand himself revealed it over a century later in The Vampire Armand.
And the show is very much not cutting that moment out but, instead, has been hinting and foreshadowing about it.
I said in another post that I think Armand is, for lack of a better metaphor, like a little kid who wet the bed and now is trying to hide the sheets when it specifically comes to this. This is why he's against the interview happening because it being revealed will crumble the contented life he feels he's built with Louis in Dubai. Because Armand just craves love and being loved so much and not being alone . . . and is fearful he very much will be if this all goes in the direction it could.
One of Armand's major faults is that, when he loves someone, he tends to go way, way, WAY overboard in trying to either secure that person's love . . . or to keep it. If you know the book TVL, Armand did that with Lestat, (forcing himself into Lestat's mind and drinking Lestat's blood without permission), and that is the reason Lestat, in the end, could never trust Armand enough to be companions with him.
And Armand repeated that same pattern with Louis in Paris in allowing Claudia to be killed when, as coven master, he very well could have prevented it.
And now Armand is doing something way overboard, once again, in Dubai, in trying to hide the one thing regarding Claudia in Paris that Louis doesn't know about -- as well as keep Louis safe from doing something extreme if Louis remembers everything the real way it happened . . . as well as hiding the one thing about it all -- regarding Armand's own role in Claudia's fate that Louis still doesn't know about (and in the book Armand says he kept closely hidden until this moment).
Many book readers have always wondered about that Frankenstein reveal because, once Armand reveals it, it's never brought up again. We never hear how Louis and Lestat felt about learning about it. However, I think the show is very much going to give Louis and Lestat both a reaction to and about it when they learn of it. (And no, they are not going to kill Armand for it. But Armand might just be right to worry that Louis learning about it very well might cause his life with Louis in Dubai to be destroyed.)
So yeah, IMO, the second character that Rolin said would be revealed to be wanting this second interview in ep 2x08 is Claudia. And, IMO, this theory also fits with what Jacob said about this being Claudia's season more than anyone else's.
#Interview with the Vampire#amc iwtv#iwtv#Louis de Pointe du Lac#Armand#The Vampire Armand#Claudia de Pointe du Lac#Claudia de Lioncourt#Lestat de Lioncourt#Daniel Molloy#Claudia#vampire chronicles#the vampire chronicles#Merrick#Tale of the Body Thief#iwtv Season 2#iwtv Season 2 Theory#iwtv Season 2 Speculation#vc book spoilers#iwtv spoilers
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Abuse seemed normal and justifiable to me, the entire time I was living in it as a kid. I didn't question it, the justifications and defenses would appear in my head before I would even start to get upset about it. 'They didn't mean that, they did it to make me stronger, to teach me how hard life is. They only did it out of anger, they wouldn't have done it if I didn't make them angry. It happened because I did x. They're my parents, they're doing what's best for me. I just don't understand yet because I'm not old enough but eventually I'll get why they're acting this way.'
It feels like that when you've never had a life away from abuse; it is the only normal way of life you've ever known, and implication that it might not be normal are too scary to explore, but also completely unbelievable. Because you would have to believe that you yourself are in a special situation where normal rules no longer apply. Rules like 'your parents love you and do everything for your own good', 'you need to listen to your parents, they know what they're talking about', and 'Your parents are just trying their best'. And you feel like you're nothing special, nothing that happens to you is special, nothing is out of the ordinary, you're feeling even less than normal, you feel like something is deeply wrong with you, rather than the situation you're in. Of course your parents are normal, and mean well, it's you who needs to get their shit together and stop being, whatever you are, it's unclear.
It can seem from an outside perspective, that a child would recognize at least some of the abuse for what it was, even if subjected to the rules of 'parents love you, they know best, you need to obey them', if the abuse is extreme, but no, they wouldn't. Looking back at my experience I was able to justify not only the physical violence, neglect, insults and humiliation, but even the constant, very detailed death threats that would constantly come out of the abusers. I listened to them describe to me how they would kill me, often implying they should have killed me already, and all I thought was 'they are just saying that, they're not actually going to kill me, they're saying it because they're angry, I shouldn't take this personally'. When I think about that now, I am appalled, you would think anyone subjected to constant detailed death threats would know for sure that this is wrong. But I was also hearing about how they 'sacrificed everything for me' and 'nobody else would ever love me like this', and how could I have known, as a kid, which one of these are lies, and which are the truth? I was heavily pressured to believe that they loved me. How would I have known that my parents had reasons to convince me that their murderous intentions were fake, but the love they had for me was real?
Without a clear reference to how parental love looks like, there's no way to tell. And if you ever do see a depiction of a loving family, your abusive family will be very quick to tell you that they're "doing it wrong", "spoiling that child", and "created a selfish brat". And how would you know that this isn't true? You don't yet know that they have reasons to lie to you. You've been told they're your parents and they only want the best for you, like all parents do. They just don't want you to grow up a selfish brat, so that's why they don't do all of the listening, hugging, caring, paying attention, conversing, and advocating for you. To make sure you're strong and responsible as a human being. It makes sense when you're a kid. When you're an adult, you understand that it never made any sense, that shaming good parents only served the purpose of making you feel like you're having a normal experience, and that your parents were right to abuse you, even superior for it.
It's possible to endure any amount of abuse and to be convinced that it's normal. I've talked to adults who've been sexually abused and trafficked by their parents and still believed the parents loved them. There's no limit to what you can convince a child is normal. Any abuse can be hidden by a guise of normalcy.
#child abuse#tw death threats#tw mentions of csa#tw mention of child trafficking#hiding abuse#justifying abuse#recognizing abuse#living in abuse#abusive childhood#traumatic childhood#not being able to recognize anything as a child#because no references and pressure to believe what you're told#can overrule anything you're experiencing
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𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u
Part: 6
Click here to read the first part.
Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.
Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader
Warnings: heavy angst, hurt, language, PTSD, violence, mention of drugs, mention of torture, mentally unstable Soldier Boy, anger issues
Word Count: 3127
A/N: English is not my first language.
* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.
For the previous three days, Soldier Boy, Butcher, and Hughie had been searching for you and researching research from several decades ago. Ben wasn't doing well since he was becoming more and more impatient every day and was preoccupied with what he had done to you. The most difficult part was that you might still be tortured while he is free, in spite of his failings. He was struggling not to punch the two idiots who said they could help him find you, but the fact was that he felt guilty for not finding you quicker.
Soldier Boy was constantly smoking weed, and Hughie was staring at the screen of the device he had in his lap, which he called his "laptop." Soldier Boy was taken aback to discover that the device's internet genuinely knew everything. He studied everything fascinating about the modern world during the night so that when he found you, he could teach you such things.
“According to an official statement, Y/N betrayed the company by selling specific highly confidential information to Russia. This had to have happened after you were captured and taken to Russia. Am I correct?” Hughie questioned, showing Soldier Boy the date.
Ben became outraged and said with rage, “Yes,” taking a tenth sniff at the drugs that were on the table. “She didn't rebel against the government; screw that. Selling information to Russia? She wouldn't even offer her flowers for sale.” He truly wanted to prevent himself from punching Hughie or the internet. “Fucking snakes.”
Hughie and Butcher exchanged a look as Soldier Boy went on to swear and praise your innocence. Hughie got a bit anxious when he heard his heater's alarm go off.
With a swift “Okay, okay,” Hughie calmed Soldier Boy. “You can't always rely on the Internet. Everyone knows that already.”
With a suspicious voice, Butcher asked Soldier Boy, glancing at the TV from Hughie's other side, “Why did she leave them though? There has to have been something that happened.”
Soldier Boy was making a lot of effort to move past these painful recollections in order to start over, but those guys were a little too inquisitive and were doing everything in their power to make him feel uncomfortable. He lied, not knowing what to say, saying, “I don't know.” He could feel the heat rising in his chest every second as a result of their pointless questions.
Soldier Boy inhaled deeply and paused for a moment, ruminating on the day he fired you from the team in a very jackass way. If he had seen the previous version himself, he would have suffered a major head injury. You wouldn't have had to go through such things if only he had listened to you once. He caused you to be hurt in every manner possible.
“She didn't do anything wrong, yet I dismissed her from the squad. Noir is the reason everything happened. What a fucking traitor!” In an attempt to hide his errors by placing the blame elsewhere, Soldier Boy said it aggressively.
Butcher's eyebrows rose up, and he turned to face Hughie, who had been trying to figure out what Soldier Boy was saying.
“What action did Black Noir take? I take it that he didn't fuck her or something during the time you developed feelings for her.” Butcher questioned him in a humorous way.
Ben growled, “Watch your fucking language, or I'm going to make you gargle my hairy balls in that garrulous mouth of yours,” while Butcher gave him a frightened little look to Hughie, who was about to pee in his trousers since the alarm of the heater was freaking him out with his every word. They wouldn't do well if Butcher continued to annoy Soldier Boy in that way.
“You don't need to know the fucking details; just find her,” Soldier Boy continued, cutting Butcher off before he could say anything else.
This states that she would be imprisoned in America for the rest of her life due to her betrayal and that her body would be studied in the future. It appears they covered up your situation but not hers. Hughie continued to scam every headline about you, saying, “There is no more recent news.”
When Hughie said your body would be examined by the best scientists and doctors, Soldier Boy cursed again. Despite being the strongest superhuman in the world, they had tried to kill him by torturing him severely for years. Even to him, they were all downright painful and disgusting. He didn't want to think about how much pain you endured for decades because of his mistakes. When he saved you from the lab, he would make sure everyone who had harmed you died there, and you could start over.
“Actually, we have a very good friend from Vought. She is also conducting extensive searches by herself. It won't be long until we locate your teammate for you.” Hughie said as he picked up his phone as soon as it began to ring.
Despite the fact that it has been a week and the explosion he created is still being shown on TV every night, Soldier Boy cautiously listened to every phone call in the hopes of learning something about you. However, there was still no single sign. He was sure they were plotting new plans to capture him once again. All of them were fucking cowards.
Butcher offered Soldier Boy a glass of whiskey while Hughie was on the phone with Annie in the kitchen.
“Is he fucking a supe woman?” Soldier Boy asked in disbelief. That guy, Hughie, was full of surprises, though his face was screaming that he was a bottom.
“Never judge the book by its cover,” Butcher smirked.
“So the whole thing was a lie, huh?” As if Ben hadn't repeated the same thing a hundred times, Butcher inquired again. “She must have done something really bad to find herself in a situation like yours.”
Butcher was interested in hearing the story because he wanted to know what was ahead. Dealing with Soldier Boy was dangerous enough, but it would become even more problematic if you shared his anger management issues. For a week, Butcher watched your films and interviews, but he was aware that the media was the least reliable source on earth, particularly when it came to superheroes.
With a menacing glance at Butcher, Soldier Boy merely stated, “She didn't do anything wrong. All she wanted to do was get herself free from the team. It seems that they decided not to respect her decision to leave.”
“What do you think she’ll do when she’s free?” Butcher asked with curiosity and added, “Will she team up with you again despite all?”
For days and hours, Soldier Boy had considered saving you, but he dismissed your feelings upon seeing him again. Thinking about it was not something he wished to do. Even though he was well-known for his confidence, he had been secretly experiencing some insecurity lately, even if he didn't want to acknowledge it. It wasn't that he didn't look nicer; in fact, he was in better form than before, but he was anxious that your opinion might change about him. He was aware that your rescue was more essential than those things, though. Later on, he would be considering the relationship between you.
“I don’t know, but of course she’ll team up with me,” he said trying to sound confident and sure of himself.
Soldier Boy instantly got up from the couch when Butcher's lips parted to ask another question. He focused on the woman Hughie was speaking to on the phone. She was talking about a supe expert physician who had been assigned to study the bodies of the captive supe for scientific purposes for decades, someplace in America.
With great excitement, Hughie hung up the phone and turned to face Butcher and Soldier Boy. He said, “Annie found something. Searches conducted by the government on supe bodies appear to have begun decades ago with Soldier Boy and Y/N. They recruited the world's brightest physicians and scientists to work strictly with Vought.”
Soldier Boy impatiently urged him, saying, “Go on” and tell all the shit already.
“All right. There is a single scientist in charge who watches over all supe captives for his scientific studies. He is required to report to Vought twice in a span of three months, in great detail. It has continued for many years. He is retired last year, but he most likely has knowledge of the location of Y/N.”
Soldier Boy thought, Fuck. At last, he located you. As Hughie spoke about the significant possibility of somebody knowing your whereabouts, his heart raced with excitement.
Butcher said, “Starlight did a really good job there, huh,” with a meaninful grin at Hughie's bashful but proud smile.
After a little period of time spent lost in thought, Soldier Boy eventually grabbed his shield from the corner, straightened his suit, and exclaimed, “Let's fucking give a visit this son of a bitch.”
Soldier Boy ignored Butcher and Hughie's warnings and used a forceful move to smash through the old man's door after spending hours on the road and thinking about you. Soldier Boy cast a glance in the direction of the elderly man and thought, ‘They could go fuck themselves.’ Because of his alleged scientific accomplishments about the supes, he was obviously living in luxury. As Soldier Boy cautiously made his way inside the doctor's huge home, his heart was filled with immense fury. He considered the number of times this old cunt had tormented you in order to send Vought a disgusting report.
The doctor was sitting on his couch, watching the news on TV, when he noticed Soldier Boy standing right in front of him. As the strongest supe and two other men entered his home as if they intended to kill him, he was in disbelief and did not know what to do.
After cleaning his spectacles, the doctor said in a shaky, scared voice, “What's happening? Why are all of you in my house?”
Butcher replied, “This is not very welcoming of you, old man,” and he turned off the TV before sitting down on the closest chair. Hughie swiftly but gently took the phone from the old man's hands when Butcher noticed him reaching for it. Hughie made the doctor sit down again with the same gentleness.
Soldier Boy gripped his shield more firmly, as though he were about to engage in combat with his greatest enemy. He gazed at the elderly man in front of him who was in fear and worry, and he loathed him. Still, he had good reason to be frightened. After all, that would be his last day.
“You live in a nice, big house, huh?” Soldier Boy spoke as he moved slowly in the direction of the doctor. “It appears that you made a good living off of the supes you tortured.”
As Soldier Boy approached with menacing steps and a look like a bloodthirsty murderer, the doctor gulped down nervously. “It's not what you think. I don't know how you escaped from Russia, but you need to stay calm and listen to me,” the elderly guy remarked, raising his hand in protest. “My actions were crucial for both the ongoing wellness of the world and the study of supe.”
"Why the fuck would I listen to your bullshit at all?" Standing by the elderly doctor, Soldier Boy remarked fiercely. “You tortured and used supes for money, you fucking old shit.”
The doctor raised his eyebrows slightly and replied, “Not for money. My work throughout the years has contributed to a better understanding of superhero bodies, which has made it easier to bring your kind to the pinnacle of perfection.”
Before Soldier Boy, Butcher growled, “Perfection? Fuck that. You just made the government's weapons better, served their evil shit for years. Nothing more.”
Soldier Boy battled to contain the heat rising from his chest. Instead of apologizing and beg for his life, the doctor didn't acknowledge that what he had done was wicked and immoral and continued to defend himself which made Soldier Boy even more angrier.
“I saw the explosion in New York from the TV,” the doctor said, adjusting his eyeglasses and looking at Soldier Boy carefully. “You cannot deny that what you experienced in Russia made you stronger and better.”
“I killed people there, you sick old fuck.” Soldier Boy grunted and looked at the doctor with disgust. “Have you fucking lost your humanity by examining the supes for years?”
Without letting the doctor talk any further, Soldier Boy asked angrily, “Where is Y/N? Don’t tell me you don’t know a shit, because I fucking know you sent some reports about her to Vought.”
Butcher and Hughie worriedly watched Soldier Boy, his hand clenched into a fist, as if he may blow at any moment. Soldier Boy grew angrier the longer the old bitch talked.
The doctor honestly said, “Yes. I spent decades working on her. I can't dispute that she's a bit of a rebel, or somewhat resistant. But because of the research we were able to conduct on her body, we were able to perfect Comp-V, which undoubtedly contributed to Queen Maeve's current status as the strongest female supe in history. And without a doubt, your body assisted Homelander in becoming the strongest supe ever.”
Hughie muttered, "Holy fucking shit," at witnessing the ascending smoke rising from Soldier Boy's chest.
“Where is she now?” Soldier Boy repeated, trying to maintain composure and control over his body while ignoring what the doctor said. “Where on earth are you keeping her concealed?”
“Calm down. I'll tell you where she is,” stated the doctor. “It appears that there will be no stopping what is about to come about, which will ultimately bring the two of you face to face with the Seven. When you get back to where you belong, you'll both realize how weak and worthless they are; you'll see they are the upgraded versions of yourselves.”
Hughie and Butcher quickly left the house after realizing that Soldier Boy would soon blow up the entire place. The doctor didn’t feel anymore as he realized it was his end. He knew such thing would happen sooner or later. He had already a good life after all.
It's fine, he thought, if it was a challenge. If needed, he could simply kill those seven whores. Soldier Boy was willing to remind them all how fucking stupid it was to fuck with him. If this fucking old dick believed he had made the new supes better than him and the rest of the world agreed with his bullshit, Soldier Boy would show them how wrong they all were.
“Where is she?” Soldier Boy growled again as he was getting closer to blow up.
“She’s in Ohio,” the doctor said, giving the full address just before Soldier Boy exploded the whole place into ashes.
This time, unlike the second explosion he had in New York, he did not pass out. He was relieved and at ease at the same time because it appeared that he was becoming more adept at using his new powers. Luckily, he was also able to locate you at last. He got in the car and gave the address he was given to Butcher, who had been looking into the damage Soldier Boy had done after leaving the burned-out house. Hughie's eyes widened in fear as he crouched where he was seated.
After several hours, Butcher drove them to a massive, desolate structure that resembled the one in Russia. Soldier Boy was more nervous and angry than ever as he recalled unpleasant experiences, but his need to see you overcame these emotions. His gaze was fixated on the building as they all got out of the car. So that's where you were imprisoned there for years, apart from him and all alone.
Soldier Boy led the way without speaking a word, and when five guys came up to stop him from entering inside, he threw them hard against the wall. It was funny because some of them started shooting at him, like they could hurt him or something. Soldier Boy killed some of the men with his shield, cutting off their heads, and killed some of them with his bare hands, making sure not a single one remained alive.
Butcher followed behind Soldier Boy, providing his assistance with his own firearm while blasting at men who were making desperate attempts to stop them.
As Soldier Boy massacred everyone there and killed those who were wailing in agony, the place fell silent. After all, each and every one of them had a hand in hurting you.
Soldier Boy and Butcher looked everywhere for you. He knew you were in the lab when he walked into a massive, frigid room. Your soothing scent and presence were sensed throughout his entire body despite it was weak. He swiftly ripped off the metal door and killed the last person standing behind it, ripping her heart from her chest in one motion and ignoring her cries.
He found you in a similar-looking metal box to his, with an item covering your face and putting you to endless sleep. Soldier Boy approached your capsule while laying his shield on the ground and with a heavy heart.
“I kept my promise,” Butcher stated, hoping Soldier Boy wouldn’t betray their deal and thankfully, he gave him a promising nod.
“Here's my sleeping beauty,” Soldier Boy murmered, unable to contain his smile as his heart warmed upon seeing your peaceful face, before he violently tore off the metal door to free you.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿
A/N: Thank you for your comments for the previous chapter! They made me really happy. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated. -`♡´-
Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @xmariakx @spnfamily-j2 @suspicious-stain-in-spain @atomicsoulcollecto @yvonneeeee @starryperson @mfnqueen1 @chaand-sitara @boywivlove @stilinskisthings @brynanna @delaynew @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @yoyoanaria @n-o-p-e-never @ghostslillady @certifiedhaters
Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series! -`♡´-
#the boys#jensen ackles soldier boy#soldier boy x reader#the boys season 3#soldier boy the boys#the boys tv#the boys series#jensen ackles#soldier boy#the boys amazon#soldier boy fic#soldier boy x female reader#soldier boy x y/n#soldier boy x you#soldier boy fanfiction#the boys soldier boy#the boys season 4#the boys x reader#heavy angst#hurt#hurtful
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The school year finally ended... I hate college SO much :( but I am alive!! I beg for some crumbs of thoughts on Sunday... -chubby darling anon who is very much alive and finally got a mitsuri scale figure <3
putting all of my other fics, blurbs, and asks on PAUSE for this!! congrats!! no more school foorrr… 3ish months!! after dropping out of uni, i’ve been finally considering going back myself for phlebotomy!! canadas health situation is lack lustre rn and the course is less than one year + paid practicum + immediate job placement which is kinda sweet… CONGRATS ON THE FIGURE TOO!! i recently (like a month and a half ago) procured the hatsune miku jirai kei subculture fashion figure and i cannot stress how pretty she is <3 sits on my pc right now bc my shelves are full… ANYWAYS… love you!!
includes: silly sunday hcs, potential story spoilers, maybe ooc im still feeling him out, praise, degradation, riding crops, his hands…, and gender neutral reader!!
very poignantly the hopeless romantic type. he’s always functioned as a ‘singularity’ of sorts and over the years developed a certain fondness of it, even if it hurts. it’s worth noting he vividly reminds me of the line ‘i miss the comfort in being sad,’ from nirvanas ‘Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle.’ he’s the type of partner to always be stuck in that self-absorbed martyr mindset a little bit.
pragmatic to a fault. Sunday is deeply a skeptic, take his departure from the harmony in favour of the order, as an example. it’s cool because it means you’ll never have to worry about any technicalities but it also means he has a hard time letting go of control or being spontaneous.
very into more subtle romantic gestures and an absolute gentleman. you’ll have flowers at your door at least once a week and he makes sure to take all of your preferences into consideration when planning dates (he will be the one planning). keeps his hand on your lower back most of the time, the waist is far too scandalous!!
not a big texter. he prefers speaking face to face and will call if he can’t come see you. that said, he’ll make sure to like or respond to all of the silly pictures and messages you send, even if it’s a dry ‘haha’ or just a heart. occasionally, you’ll find that he’s sent you a letter, ask about and he’ll shrug and say he simply wanted something more heartfelt if he’s to communicate written. he’s got a special stamp to seal the ones he sends you.
grabs your phone when you go to show him something. no explanation i just feel it in my bones.
although he’s no singer, he’s still a classically trained musician. i imagine he was taught the violin but went on to learn his preferred instrument, the harp, himself. he’s a bit shy about playing so rather than asking, just wait until he thinks it’s late and you’re not around to hear; he’s got quite the set of fingers.
…speaking of fingers, my bread and butter, he’s beyond skilled with playing you. while he enjoys getting down to business, getting to leisurely spread you open and thrum against all your nerves gets him going. could spend hours having you laid out, in his lap, on the floor, wherever, just gently coaxing you open, wet, and pliant for himself.
off of that, he likes you best worn down to soft edges and weak desperation. getting to play the saviour, making you come undone, has him stiff in his pants.
lots of sweet praise and subtle degradation. things like, “you want to be good for me, don’t you my sweet?,” or, “now, now, don’t get greedy on me. be patient, silly thing, and i’ll appease all of your foolish whims,” annddd, “come now, you’ve been so well for me, angel, don’t ruin that with any useless whines.”
he’s not one for being too harsh against you but push the right buttons and you’ll get a ‘dumb’ or ‘stupid’ here and there. Sunday doesn’t curse but he knows his way around how to make you feel inferior and looked down upon.
he likes the power play of staying fully and pristinely clothed while your completely nude, save for maybe a pretty collar he’s got you belled with. if you’re real trouble, say maybe a no good criminal causing problems on Penacony and once arrested you’re at his disposal and oh so pretty, he’ll find a nice muzzle to fix you with.
strikes, no pun intended, me as the type to have an affinity for riding crops over anything else for punishments. you’ll get the same sugarcoated degradation while he comments on how you’re not even good enough to be so close to his gloved hand that he just must use the crop!! (he likes the pretty bruises it leaves).
#cw: degradation#cw: riding crops#sunday x reader#sunday x you#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x you#hsr x you#chit chats#chubby darling anon my beloved!#i think he’s a real slime ball#but… very interesting i fear#i like how… stiff?? purposeful?? assertive?? he is#very much a mixed bag of marbles and i like that!!#kisses u btw
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I'm getting a little tierd of the idea because amputees get more representation in media, it means rep for our disability is better and we "have enough"
People are right, we do have way more rep than really any other disability, im not going to deny that, and ive joked before about how often people write amputees without even realising it. So you would think, by sheer numbers, we should have at least some good representation, but by-and-large that is not the case. Legitimatly, the closest example I can think of to point to of good amputee rep is Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood and even that uses multiple tropes I hate (the miracle cure/quest for the miracle cure, the almost perfect prosthetic replacement/forgetting the chatacter is an amputee until it breaks or needs repairs, refusal to call prosthetics, "prosthetics" (automail), the amputee who can't do anything without a prosthetic) and they call Ed a slur for another disability (m*dget) CONSTANTLY. I love fmab deeply, it legitimatly helped me feel seen and represented as a childhood amputee in a way no other show has even come close to, and when it gets it right, it gets it really right, but it's also very far from great and should not be the best example I can think of. Especially nearly 15 years after it released...
A big part of the reason why I don't read many books anymore is because of the sheer amount of books with downright offensively bad amputee rep, some of which were touted as good by people with other disabilities and were recommended to me as good examples. others times, I wasn't even looking for books with amputee/disability rep, it just popped up. It has ruined one of my childhood hobbies for me. Ive tried to get back into reading again as an adult but it hasn't gotten better in that time i was away. I was kicked out of 3 different scifi writing groups on facebook and reddit for asking people to remember "cybernetic enhancement" users are amputees - a real group of people, and maybe debating weather or not we're less human isnt great, and for pointing out seeing those discussions every day was making me feel pretty unwelcome in that space (yes i know, "real" cyberpunk isnt trying to say that, i had to turn notifications off on my post about the topic, it doesnt change the fact that newer creators in the genre dont seem to get that bit, that ive seen cyberpunk writers in these spaces say that debating weather people who loose more parts of their body were less human was, in fact, their intent but they hadnt even considered the fact this made their chatacters amputees, it doesnt change the fact that these tropes, intentionally or not, help make those spaces hostile for disabled fans/creators, especially amputees).
But yeah, I should be thankful I get more rep than other disabilities, no matter the quality, right?
It doesn't just stop at being me being made uncomfortable, though. The sheer, overwhelming amount of amputee chatacters with "perfect prosthetics" has had a noticeable impact on how we are perceived irl. In my lifetime, the general idea people have about multi-limbed amputees in particular has gone from "literally the worst thing that can happen to a person and the worst disability to have" to "is it even a disability? The prosthetic fixes it". These are both wildly untrue and harmful ideas about my disability that were both perpetuated by media, but now that the second one is taking root, it's causing real problems. I have not been shy in talking about how I have to fight to maintain my NDIS funding every time I get something done with my prosthetics, and had to get my prosthetist to sign off, twice, that my fancy prosthetic knee that costs the same as a higher-end new car ($125,000 AUD) is not, in fact a cure and I still need help with other things. It took me nearly 2 years to get a new wheelchair because they didn't understand why I needed it if I had the prosthetics - which to be honest, is not comfortable for me to wear, let alone use all day every day. Guys this isn't just assholes on the street or on twitter saying dumb shit, it's the people in the government body who decide how much funding I get to help with my disability who beleive it. People who have very real control over my life. It's not entirely the media's fault, but when the sheer, overwhelming majority of representation for people like me confirms that belief, it's hard to ignore the possibility that these portrayals are contributing to it, you know?
Which makes it so frustrating when I come on here and see other disability writing advice blogs saying to not write amputees because they have so much representation already. We do, I can acknowledge that, but the vast, vast majority of it is shit, and no one, not even other disabled people, are listening to us about it. And what makes it even worse, is the people they're advising to not writing amputees are the creators who care enough to be doing the research. They're the ones willing to listen, to ask questions. They could be the start of the positive change. But instead they're advised to not even bother with us.
And don't get me wrong, other disabilities ARE under-represented. There are so many disabilities, including some I have myself, that I've never seen represented as anything other than the butt of a joke. There does need to be more reprentation of disabilities other than amputation and limb differences. 100%! but can you please talk about that without saying "amputees have enough"
This isn't even touching on how amputees/people with limb differences who dont/cant use prosthetics, or even folks who use prosthetics sometimes but not others, are almost never represented unless it's for pitty-porn, or how the non-fictional media's (news outlets, etc) portrayal of amputees in particular is used to justify hurting very real, very vunderable people but this rant is long enough and honestly, ive got enough thoughts to make whole other posts on those subjects. That second one in particular deserves its own (more thought-out) spotlight and shouldn't be a footnote in a frustrated rant post lol.
#writing disability with cy cyborg (unfiltered)#disability#disabled#writing#writeblr#writing disability#disability representation#amputee#amputee representation#rant#long post
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A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #32)
Chapter #32. Alexander has a new obstacle in his way: Charles. Will he find a way to get rid of him or will he be surprised by what he finds?
Previous: Chapter #31
Next: Chapter #33
Word Count: 7,671
Read Time: Approx. 60+ mins
CW: adult language
Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list!
___________________________________
A Fraction of Justice
Chapter #32: An Uneasy Alliance
[Alexander’s POV]
The warmth from her hand still lingered along my back and over my chest where she’d planted her thumb. A cool rush of air replaced her touch as she set me back on my feet on the lacquered table’s surface. She’d leaned in, her teasing whisper rustling my hair as she ran her finger over my chest before I’d batted it away. My heart usually beat to a faster rhythm whenever I was plucked up or put down. That was the natural consequence of sudden, vertical movement, after all. So why was it still knocking at my ribs now that I was settled? My face felt flushed and hot, my hair askew, and I could tell my shirt was twisted around my body at an unflattering angle, yet I couldn’t tear my eyes from hers.
When she’d held me in her palm, gliding her fingers over my body, she’d trained her gaze on me in such a manner that it suddenly became difficult for my lungs to take in air. What was she thinking? Why was she looking at me like that? Why hadn’t she stopped, now that she’d released me from her grip?
I wanted nothing more than to be able to read her mind and to keep my own from racing far beyond the bounds I was comfortable with.
As she gazed down at me, seeming to tower a mile above despite being no more than a foot or two away, I felt completely rooted to the spot; a sensation, in any other instance, I would feel deeply resentful towards. She’d called me incredible, brave… I’d choose to ignore the mention of adorable… for now.
As my thoughts swam, she tucked her chin into the heel of the hand I’d just occupied, and for some reason, I didn’t mind that she held me captive with her gaze. In fact, I couldn’t help but notice her other hand, which rested just out of my reach on the table beside me. Did her finger and thumb twitch when I glanced at them over my shoulder?
There went my heart again, leaping into my throat. What was this feeling? Was something wrong with me? Was I on the verge of getting sick? I felt lightheaded and unsteady on my feet.
I clenched my jaw. I hated being out of control of my physical response to outer stimuli.
Just as the corner of her lips raised the smallest fraction of a smirk, and the hand that was far too close and much, much too far away at the same time, shifted toward me ever so slightly, we both heard the echo of distant footsteps from down the hall. I wondered if they sounded as thunderous to her as they did to me, as they practically throttled me from this kinetic moment of connection and snapped me back to my dissatisfactory reality.
I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling my shoulders rise towards my ears as the chill I’d just observed across my body boiled over and my head rushed with heat.
Not him again.
For a few blessed moments, I’d forgotten about him entirely.
His clattering footfalls made my jaw ache as my scowl deepened. Wasn’t it time he let us be? What was he here for, anyway? What business did he have in continuing to disrupt our routine?
Heat continued cascading off of me in palpable, fluctuating waves as he appeared in the threshold of the kitchen. I deeply regretted the lack of another sharp object to ward him off.
As he crossed toward us, growing ever larger within my field of vision, I hated that I could feel the impact of his wooden soles on the linoleum floor as they rattled the table ever so slightly. The passage of his body through space rustled my hair and filled my nostrils with that infuriatingly sharp scent of soap and cinnamon.
I set my jaw, craning my neck to maintain my icy stare, refusing to flinch as he cast a shadow over me.
The awkwardness was palpable, each of us testing the waters after the storm had ceased. As the man in the bloodied sweater returned to his seat, in the very same position where I had berated him for his ignorance just minutes ago, I could see in the depths of his eyes that a thought was percolating within him. Just what it was, I couldn’t be sure. I jumped at the chance to control the conversation, before he could get a word in.
Squaring my shoulders and tipping my chin, I raised my voice to reach him, “So, did we learn something from our time out?”
“Alexander!”
“Naw, he’s right… You did kinda send me to the corner, Nat!” The man flashed a smile at her. Damn. He took that in a far better stride than I’d hoped. I felt his eyes descend on me again. I couldn’t help a subtle snarl curling the corners of my mouth. He continued, “To answer your question: yeah. I had some more time to think, and I just wanted to say I’m sorry, again. You really kinda put me in my place back there and helped put things into perspective. I guess I can see how hard it must be for you to feel like people ever hear you or take you seriously. I get wanting that, and being pretty defensive about it.”
Spare me the lecture… and, besides, it took you long enough, dimwit. Although I had to admit, this slightly more enlightened Charles gave me less cannon fodder for verbal volleys and I was left rather disappointed. I’d just need to search more closely for a slip up.
He cleared his throat, snapping me from my inner thoughts and cast a glance at the woman to my left, nodding slightly as though going through a routine they’d rehearsed together. Slowly, he presented his closed fist, palm upwards, to me. I hated that it was bigger than my entire body.
As if of their own accord, my features twisted into a scowl.
The encroaching hand stopped a bit too close for comfort as fingers unfurled to reveal a metallic object, thin, rigid and embarrassingly small in the center of his palm.
I flashed my gaze upwards to read his expression, only to be greeted by a pathetic excuse for a smile. He was clearly unsettled: good.
Life would be considerably better if all humans responded that way to me.
I could feel his bespectacled eyes still trained on me, as he wrestled with himself to speak, “… Go on… you can take it… I won’t bite.”
“Thank you for granting me permission!” I snapped, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I hoped the implication that I would be more than happy to use my teeth as a negotiation tactic was clear enough to go without saying.
He stole a glance at Natalie, who to my great satisfaction, gave him no respite and simply raised her brows and shrugged her shoulders, as if to say: You deserved that. Points for Natalie.
Taking advantage of the fact that his gaze was temporarily elsewhere, I leaned forward, arching my body to avoid touching him, and snatched the cane from his palm. The metal was warm to the touch and a bit damp.
Disgusting.
I couldn’t help but scowl.
I pulled back as quickly as I’d lunged forward, taking the object with me. I had no desire to be within reach of this human I still saw as an adversary.
I’d hoped he would jump in surprise at my sudden movement, but to my utter frustration, it seemed he didn’t even notice it was gone. Was its weight really that negligible to him?
Without thinking twice, I held the cane by its grip, extending its arm along the length of his little finger. And with a precise swiftness, I raised the mobility aid and cracked it down on the tip of his pinky, where the nerves were dense and sensitive.
That certainty got his attention.
“Ow!!” He whisked his hand away, pinching his injured digit between finger and thumb. He looked pathetic like that. Cowering before a man a fraction his size. I loved it. He stared down at me with a grimace, “What was that for?!”
“Clumsy me!” I shrugged, doing my best to hide the smug smile that threatened to paint my features. I tapped my right ankle with the heel of the cane, “This damned leg makes it hard to balance, sometimes!” I flashed him a devilishly angelic grin.
Charles’ eyes widened, before his lips pressed into a thin line. He looked as though he was about to speak, but then chose not to engage. That was the correct choice.
At the same moment, Natalie cleared her throat. I knew precisely what look of disapproval awaited me before I turned over my shoulder to see it for myself. I stared unflinchingly right back at her, my hand upon my hip, my brow arched to provoke a challenge.
She knew better than to test her willpower against mine, and looked to the man nursing his finger as though it’d just been sliced from his hand.
“So—“ she was desperate for a subject change, but lacked the imagination to pull it off.
I could help with that!
“So!” I butted in, flourishing with my free arm over my head to garner attention, since, of course, my voice would never manage to top hers no matter how much I yelled, “—So, did your intrusion have an overarching purpose or will you be leaving now?” I took a few steps toward him, neck craned to meet his gaze. His jaw hung open slightly, looking completely incredulous.
“Alexander!” She chastised.
“Natalie!” I bit back.
“You can’t just ask people to leave the second they come over!”
“He’s been here for over an hour, that’s more than enough for a social call!”
There was a slight rattle from the table as the man in question threw his hands up, “Hold on a second. Look, I know this is all my fault…” Correct. “...Barging in here unannounced…” Exhibit A.”... Condescending to your house guest who has the brains of a scholar and the soul of a possessed Chihuahua…” Exhibit B. Deemed admissible, as it was not altogether inaccurate. “...And now I’m making things worse by sticking around when I’m clearly not wanted…” Bingo! Exhibit C. Idiots were capable of learning after all!
I cleared my throat and smiled, “Well, perfect! I’m glad we can see eye to eye on this. It’s been far from a pleasure! Goodbye!” I waved generously, about to turn my back on him, when—
“No, no, wait! Hear me out!”
UGH! My shoulders slumped as I turned regretfully back to face him.
“... Look, I get that I have some, well, a lot of making up to do. The second I laid eyes on you I just saw what I wanted to see. I saw your size first, and nothing else. You don’t like me. I get it. You’ve made that abundantly clear. And, I admit, I made a pretty bad first impression. But… listen, I’m still Natalie’s friend. She’s been there for me through some really tough times and, like it or not, now she’s kinda stuck with me. The whole reason I let myself in was just to check on her, since she hadn’t been to class for a long while and wasn’t responding to my messages. I’m sorry for taking you by surprise and, well, you know, not taking you seriously. But, if you’re a part of her life now, I wanna be supportive of that. Like, truly supportive. You know?” Why did I feel a sharp dig in the pit of my stomach when he mentioned how close they were? And anyway this was all saccharinely sentimental. Was he done yet? “... So… let me make it up to you. Let me help!”
My brow furrowed and I turned to catch Natalie’s equally confused expression. I addressed him while he fished for something in his pocket, “What help? We don’t need your–”
Before I could finish, his gigantic fist presented itself before me once more, unfurling massive fingers until it spilt its contents on the table’s surface.
A cascade of cardboard and leather, leaflets of paper, and spines cracking on wood pierced my ears. Tumbling out of his hand was a pile of my notebooks, perhaps half a dozen, filled cover to cover with copious notes.
********************************
I watched the scene play out between my dear friend and the little man on the table as if from behind a screen. As soon as Charles’s hand returned to his lap and the tiny mountain of miniature journals settled at the equally miniature man’s feet, I found myself feeling just as confused as before.
Alexander, however, always quicker on the draw at, well, pretty much everything it seemed, was already opening his mouth to respond, his little chest puffed as his face turned red.
Charles had clearly anticipated this, raising his hands up defensively, “Wait, wait, wait! Before you get mad. I didn’t read them! I– I couldn’t… the writing is… uh, well, you know…” Alexander crossed his arms over his chest and arched a brow, his lips tight and tense, pressuring Charles to continue, “Well, okay… one of the diagrams you’d drawn matched Nat’s open notebook, so I put two and two together… but the more I thumbed through, I could tell with how filled up these things are and all the tabs and creases and notes in the margins, you aren’t just regurgitating Nat’s lectures here. When I saw these at first, and, pardon my ignorance, but I was just kinda amazed that it seems like you’re studying as much as she is. Like, is that why she wanted to keep you a secret? Are you the one that’s helping her bump her grades up? But, the way you spoke, when you were tearing me a new asshole, which I deserved… You were using legal jargon. You were cross-examining me. It was… You knew way too much for someone who’s just been sitting at Nat’s elbow and learning secondhand from some out of context online courses. These aren’t class notes. They’re case notes, aren’t they? You’re working on something, aren’t you?” Charles’s eyes were ablaze. He was enthused at having solved a mystery, yes, but I could see a certain respect, an admiration even, for one student of the law to another.
The flush of blood that had risen to Alexander’s cheeks had now drained and he looked pale, and almost frightened. It was a version of him I hadn’t seen since those days right before and after the surgery. He looked caught, wary, defensive, as though the top had been blown off all his well-kept secrets. Remembering how hesitant he’d been with me to share his past legal studies, I understood his dilemma.
He couldn’t have any random human he didn’t know or trust yet knowing about his intentions, his ambitions, his goals. What if they found a way to use his greatest wishes against him?
Poor Alexander.
I suddenly remembered that fateful afternoon where I’d reached for him and he’d collapsed into himself, quaking, as though I was going to beat him within an inch of his life. His road to get here had been far from easy. That much was obvious. He had every right to decide what he would and wouldn’t share.
I watched as tiny fingers searched to trace his lower lip. How I loved that funny little habit of his.
Charles relieved him of the obligation by cracking a smile and with a terrible attempt at a British accent, quoted, “All right, then, keep your secrets…”
Alexander’s head whipped up, brow deeply furrowed, mouth tight and downturned. He’d completely missed the reference Charles was making. It was clear he thought he was being made fun of. A cardinal sin in Alexander’s book, I knew.
Before I had a chance to clarify and save him from earning another battle scar, Charles swooped in to damage control, trying to explain, “Aww, c’mon, man! Frodo? In that opening scene in the first movie?”
If the little man on the table had articulated ears they would’ve shot forward at this moment.
Little nerd. I told ya you two had more in common than you think.
Charles continued, “Look, I figured with how big a fan Nat is, she would’ve forced you to watch the extended editions of all the films at least ten times by now!”
Alexander’s blue eyes widened to perfect circles, as his voice pitched higher than normal, “Th-There are… M-” He cleared his throat, furrowing his brow and attempting to play it cool, continued, “Uh, ahem, I mean… They made movies out of the books?” Oh my god what a fanboy.
“Well… Yeah! Dude, you’ve been here with Nat for how long?” Charles whipped to me, eyes aglow with that mischievous gleam I’d always admired in him, “You’ve had him how fuckin’ long and you’ve NEVER shown him the best cinematic journey of our modern times?!”
My face flushed, “I… What? Don’t look at me like that! C’mon, cut me some slack! We’ve been just a little bit busy!”
“Nat! What the hell is wrong with you? You HAVE to show him. What have you been doing all this time? OH! We could all do a marathon again! I could bring over my deluxe editions! Remember? Your Freshman year? We stayed up until 9 am the next morning watching every extended edition back to back…”
“Oh my GOD! Yes!” I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten about that entirely, “I had to time all my pee breaks for whenever Boromir was onscreen… I don’t care that he got a valiant death, fuck that guy!”
“And remember that dude you were kinda into? The one with the weird hair? He kept doing a Gandalf voice for every goddamn line–”
“It wasn’t even GOOD! Major turn off! I did not like him after that night!”
“Yeah, fuck that guy!” Charles raised his glass to cheer me.
“EXCUSE ME!!!” A tiny yet commanding voice cut our reminiscing short, “We are glossing over an EXTREMELY IMPORTANT DETAIL HERE! Can we get back to what actually matters?! You’re telling me that humans have made motion picture films of J.R.R Tolkien’s master work? As in, an actual visual depiction of the stories? Is it all of them?”
“--Well, we don’t acknowledge the existence of the Hobbit movies…” Charles raised his brows and took a swig of his, undoubtedly by now, watered down drink.
“Shut up! They’re not THAT BAD!” I brushed him off before resting my chin on my forearm to get closer to the little man on the table, “Yes, Alexander, they made movies of all the books–”
“WHY HAVEN’T YOU SHOWN THEM TO ME?!” Poor thing, he was beside himself.
“Wait, Alex, have y–”
With the ferocity of a snarling beast, the little man’s head whipped to the right, his tiny pointer finger jabbing the space between his form and Charles. Without missing a beat, he snapped, “Alexander. My name is Alexander!” He spoke in a condescending tone, slowly and with emphasis as though speaking to a particularly idiotic child, “Not Alex. Not Al. Not Xandy…” He spit that one directly at me with a fire from the depths of his tiny soul, “Al-ex-an-der.”
“Woah, o-kay. Seems I hit a nerve there. Sorry, Alexander. What I was gonna ask was, have you actually read the Lord of the Rings?”
I expected Alexander to berate him again, but, instead he broke out into hysterical laughter. Charles looked completely baffled, wondering what he’d said to get such a reaction, “H-Have I read Lord of the Rings? You poor ignorant bastard! What sort of a question is that?” His laughter suddenly ceased and he became gravely serious, “Give me any of the battle cries within the canon. From the siege of Minas Tirith, to the Battle of Erebor, I can quote it for you, verbatim.” The tiny man, somehow looking far more sophisticated than the sweatpants and shirt he wore, had now settled into a profound aura of self righteousness, lips pursed, brows knit. He may never be able to beat someone big like Charles in hand to hand combat, but this was his alternative to throwing down the gauntlet.
He was hungering for a way to show off.
Little Nightmare. I couldn’t help smiling from ear to ear.
“He’s not messing around.” Charles shifted in his seat, clasping his hands beneath his chin, before leaning forward and smirking, “Okay, sir: Theodin. Battle of Helm’s Deep. Go.”
“Ha! That’s far too easy! And, technically, its official name is the Battle of Hornburg. That’s a common misconception. An easy mistake to make, of course, for an amatuer fan.”
Charles’s jaw dropped in playful shock, “Did he just call me an–”
Before he could finish, Alexander proudly recited the speech, word for word, beat for beat, with an ease and a grace known only to someone with total confidence in what he was doing.
My heart melted into a puddle at my feet.
“Oh my fucking god…” Charles burst into a grin. “That was awesome!” He offered his fist to bump and Alexander just sort of leaned in the opposite direction, regarding the hand hovering before him with distrust and confusion.
Sensing he was lost, I tried to help, “You’re supposed to bump it, with your fist, like this!” Demonstrating, I pressed both of my fists together.
Alexander’s eyes sunk behind their lids in an expression of exasperated deadpan, “Why on earth would I do that? You look stupid!”
“Awww come on, man. That was cool as shit. I’m not even sure if I know that whole speech just off the top of my head. You clearly know your shit. I respect that.”
I watched for the receiving end’s microscopic movements, the tensing of his jaw as he tried to hide the ghost of a smirk that dared to present itself. Doing his best to play it cool, he swallowed, rolled his eyes and begrudgingly pressed his clenched fist against the knuckle of the much larger man’s.
Satisfied, Charles pulled away and took another swig of his drink, before addressing me, “So, did you–?”
“Oh! Me? No, no. I take no credit for any of the brilliance you see before you. He just showed up in my pantry one day exactly like that.” I leaned down again to look the little nightmare in his eyes, only to discover the surface of the table seemed suddenly deeply intriguing to him, “He’s way better read than either of us. He's quick to remind me of that on a daily basis.”
That made him smirk in spite of himself. Halfway joking and halfway with complete sincerity, he met my gaze and sighed, exasperated, bringing back an argument we’d had at least ten times before, “How are you a college graduate and you don’t know who Aeneas is?! What’re they teaching you?!”
“See what I mean?” I gestured broadly to the little blue eyed menace.
Charles enjoyed quite a laugh at my expense. Ugh, now I had two mega-nerds to gang up on me, fantastic, “Well, clearly we can all appreciate some good storytelling, so... For real, I’m serious about bringing the movies over. You, of all the nerds, deserve to see them!”
Alexander paused, deciding whether this was acceptable to him or not. He brushed his bangs from his eyes before finally addressing the man towering above him, “... I suppose I’d tolerate your presence again under those extremely limited circumstances. Though don’t misconstrue this as some sort of alliance. I still hold you in disdain.”
“Awww, not even after the Tolkien bonding moment?” Charles jokingly pouted with a quivering lip, as Alexander gave him the hardest stare a pair of eyes at that scale were capable of making. The larger man dropped it with a sigh, “Alright, fine. But, hey, no one said you had to like me for me to try and help. I’m not kidding about that ‘totally not a case’ you have going on. Let me do what I can to move the needle. I mean, I’ve already passed the bar and am working towards landing a partnership someday. Maybe, I dunno, maybe I’ll have some insight on it.”
That’s when it hit me like a sudden flash of light in a previously pitch black room.
“Wait… oh my god!” I straightened up from leaning on the table, both men turned to me with rapt attention, “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it till now… Charles, your dad, his firm… he could sponsor us!”
“IF we have a case!” Alexander reminded me through gritted teeth.
“Right. Hypothetically. I mean your dad could help, right? In a hypothetical scenario if a law student without a degree wants to engage in a civil suit, that student must be sponsored by a professor or practicing attorney in good standing. And let’s face it, until this past semester I haven’t exactly been a model student, and even then I’ve been skipping class. I mean, the hypothetical student…”
“You’re a painfully terrible liar, Natalie.” Alexander’s ever critical little voice once again rang in my ears.
“Ugh, I know, Alexander, shut up!” I rolled my eyes at the little nightmare before addressing the man in the bloodied sweater beside me, “But you said you wanted to help. This is how! It could be the key to really getting this out there! If Alexander decides he wants to share it with you, that is.”
“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. I meant like… looking over your arguments or reviewing paperwork… I dunno about–” he threw his hands up in a defensive posture, before a little voice below him demanded his attention.
“—Charles…” Alexander shuffled forward, his free hand motioning for the bigger man to lean in closer. Charles hesitated for a moment, eyeing the aluminum cane in the tiny man’s grip and clearly questioning if this was all a set up to earn him a sharp smack across the nose or face. Eventually, hesitantly, at Alexander’s increasing persistence and ever more emphatic gestures, he leaned down closer. When he settled, Alexander continued, his voice a piercing whisper, “Does the concept of ‘integrity’ mean nothing to you? Am I to understand your word means nothing? When you said you earnestly wanted to make up for your frankly egregious behavior did you lie?”
Charles pulled away, pouting with his arms crossed. Why did he look like a kid getting told off by the principal? A very, very tiny principal, no less, “Aww, c’mon, this isn’t fair! I do want to help. I swear! I just—“
“—Well, then. What’re you waiting for?” Alexander bit back with equal but opposing conviction.
Charles stammered for a worthy excuse before arriving at what he seemed to think was an ace up his sleeve, “You haven’t even told me about the case!”
“‘Inconsequential! This is a hypothetical scenario, remember?”
“Well, hypothetically, and… regular-thetically… My dad hates my fucking guts so…”
Alexander flashed a glance at me, a wicked gleam in his eye, “What, did you spend too much money on cable knit sweaters?” His little chin jutted and a self-satisfied, crooked smile brightened his face. Ever the insult comedian.
“No! Man… I–” Charles looked on the verge of spilling his guts, and then, abruptly, “You know what? It doesn’t matter. You won’t care about my sob story, anyway. And why should you? After the way I acted, I don’t blame you for not giving a shit. Suffice it to say, I’m not exactly my dad’s golden child anymore, so…”
“And what regrettable faux pas did you commit to fall from his good graces?” Alexander, ever the expert at subtly navigating emotionally sensitive subjects.
“I didn’t do anything. Let’s just say he doesn’t… approve of me…”
“Ah…” the little man paused, the wind knocked from his sails. His face twisted into a mixture of a grimace and an attempt at a mask of sympathy, “That… does sound… difficult.” There was a hollow ring of recognition in Alexander’s voice that made me wince for him. He was no stranger to that feeling. Poor man. Both of them, for that matter.
“You don’t have to throw me a pity party or anything. It is what it is. I’m just saying I can’t just walk up to him and ask for a sponsorship, pretty please…. Again, it’s not like what you’re dealing with, or anything. I can’t imagine…”
“No. I… I can understand what it’s like not to… measure up… to expectations.”
“Yeah?” Charles seemed pleasantly surprised to find this common ground with the man who neasured no taller than the liquor glass he stood beside. He even managed a soft smile towards Alexander as he continued, speaking in genuine earnest, “You’ll have to tell me about it sometime. If you deem me worthy, of course. Cheers to solidarity through mutual suffering, huh?”
He offered a toast of his glass and a wink. I expected Alexander to find some fault with this, however, instead, with a curt nod of understanding, he raised an invisible glass. I could feel the tension in the room melting with each passing moment. Thank god these boys aren’t going to kill each other after all… at least, not for now.
Charles passed his gaze between us both, before shuffling out of his seat, “Well, I think I’ve far overstayed my welcome. Sorry, again, for all the ruckus I caused. I certainly wasn’t expecting… well, yeah, this all was gonna go way differently in my head. But, hey, Alexander I need you to make sure she…” he pointed at me with a smirk, “…texts me to set up a movie marathon, because you haven't lived till you’ve seen Aragorn ride into battle! Hold her to it for me, will you?” Alexander nodded doing his level best to keep up the mask of cool indifference about the whole thing, while Charles continued, “And, I will consider broaching the subject of your ‘hypothetical case’ with my father if you can present me with a solid argument. Alright?”
Alexander’s words seemed to catch in his throat as his little jaw went slack. He shook his head as if to break himself free from his own disbelief, “…W-wait… You’re, you’re actually serious?” I could hear the distrust in his voice. I knew firsthand how quick he was to assume an offer of help was somehow a trap or just empty words.
Charles seemed to understand this, as he lowered himself back down into a crouch, propping his chin along his forearm, “Was Samwise serious when he pledged his loyalty to Frodo?”
I could swear I saw that little blonde man’s face go pink to the tips of his ears. He raised his brows, slicked his hair back, adjusted the collar of his shirt and with a truly Herculean attempt to hide the joyous smile that threatened to show how truly delighted he was, finally sputtered, “You have yourself a deal!” He thrust his hand forward, offering a handshake to make it official.
Charles’ face lit up at the gesture, before casting a glance up in my direction. I mouthed the words “thank you” before the little man below demanded our attention once more.
“Ahem, come on, let’s shake and be done then…” he stared at the wood grain beneath his feet as he said this. Charles, ever so gently, reached his pointer finger forward, and just as he was about to make contact with the far smaller hand, Alexander pulled back, “And don’t think this makes us fast friends, or anything approaching that. This is a purely professional endeavor. I still don’t like you.”
I groaned as Charles laughed and shrugged, “Fair enough, dude!”
Seeming to accept his response, Alexander pressed his palm into the offered fingertip and shook once, twice, and let go, immediately adjusting his collar and smoothing his shirt as if to occupy the hand with anything other than the human before him.
With that, Charles stood and offered me a hug, which I accepted, warmly. He turned back over his shoulder to regard the little man, “You keep an eye on her, Alexander. Don’t let her do anything too stupid.”
“It is a valiant battle every moment of every day.” That crooked little smile livened up his eyes as he lifted his chin in defiance up at me.
“I hate you both!” I groaned.
“Good!” They both chimed in unison. After we stopped chuckling, or, in Alexander’s case pretending to be above it all, Charles continued with one last farewell, “Look, it was an absolute wild ride meeting you, Alexander. Thanks for the nice new scar, blood stained clothes and possible nerve damage.” He flexed the hand Alexander had smacked with the cane.
“Thank you for the harrowing reminder of the sociopolitical limitations of my own infuriating reality, the spike in my blood pressure and for ruining the productivity of my entire afternoon.”
Charles flashed a salute, winking, “Happy to be of service.”
“Invade my space like that again and I’ll carve you with a fresh design to make your face symmetrical.”
“Ouch! Touché…” Charles seemed to take it all in stride, a winning smile never fading as he started to head out.
After pulling on his boots and dawning his coat, he shut the door to the icy outside world behind him and we were alone again.
The moment the door latched into place, I watched as a little body slumped with exhaustion. His shoulders drooped and he favored his good leg far more. He’d been putting on a show that whole time to stay strong.
“Alexander?” I whispered, deeply aware of how touchy a subject this was for him. Slowly drawing my cupped hands on either side of him, I continued “I know you don’t normally like to ask for or receive help, but will you let me–”
Instead of answering me in words, he simply shuffled over to my right hand and halfway leaned, halfway collapsed into the bed of my palm. He avoided my eyes, but I understood what he was asking for. Come here. You don’t have to be strong all alone.
Tucking my thumb underneath his left arm, I draped my digit over his chest to help keep him from slipping while my left hand came up to meet the other and support his right side. Slowly, gently, I lifted him off the table and gathered him in my hands. He felt like he was melting into the skin of my palms.
His head leaned against my right pointer finger. I did my best to move slowly and deliberately, trying not to rock him about too much. When I stood up, I met his gaze only to find those icy irises sparkling with a smile. He shook his head, without mustering the energy to lift it away from where it rested, he arched an eyebrow at me, “You have terrible taste in friends.”
I bit my lip, holding back a smile of my own, “Nuh uh! No I don’t…”
He flashed his signature deadpan look, practically rolling his eyes back in their sockets.
“I don’t! Know why? Because I have you…” Did I feel the little pitter patter of his heart spike beneath the pad of my thumb? “You were beyond amazing. Not that you don’t already know that. I’m sorry about the way he reacted. But you, little nightmare, should hold your head up with pride.”
“I know I should! I always should! I’m me!”
“You gonna let me finish complimenting you or not?”
“You may proceed.”
“You just won your first case today. Before a licensed attorney, you successfully argued your case and won with flying colors. You completely turned him around using your power of persuasion. That’s something to be pretty goddamn proud of.”
I felt the smallest pressure on the side of my thumb as his hand squeezed tight. He cracked a smile, flashing his eyes up to mine before tearing them away again.
“Now, I’m more than happy to keep singing your praises all night long but my guess is you need to rest a bit first, right?”
“You’ll receive no pushback from me.”
“Wow! First time for everything!” I padded my way down the hall to the bedroom, watching for the impact of my footfalls as I went. “You sure you’re okay, after everything that happened?”
“Absolutely stellar. I drew blood, after all.” His eyes were more than halfway lidded at this point.
I crossed my bedroom, tracking over the same corridor of carpet where Alexander had attempted to drive an eye as big as his torso from its socket. Ridiculous, brave little man.
His arms were still loosely draped over my thumb as I stopped before my bedside table, on top of which, a tiny bed, about the size of my flattened palm, was made up with military precision. I lowered my hand and began unfurling my fingers to set him down to rest. “Alright, let’s try to tone down the bloodlust for at least an hour and get some shut eye, hm?” His eyes were already closed when he nodded ‘yes’, his hair sticking up from rubbing against my finger.
Yet, when I released him from my grip, his arms didn’t budge. He was still hugging my thumb close to his chest. I wriggled the base of my thumb a bit, letting him know he could let go now. He only squeezed tighter to keep from being shaken off.
Was this some sort of joke? It was so unlike him to want to be held…
I was about to ask him what he was doing when a blue iris suddenly sparkled into view as he opened one eye, “Oh, don’t let this go to your head. I’m just cold. That’s all.” He shut his eyes matter-of-factly as though that settled it.
I couldn’t help the huge grin that brightened my face, “Is that all? Just using me for warmth, huh? No other reason you wanna fall asleep in my hand?”
He let out a little frustrated sigh and pressed his forehead into the pad of my thumb, “You humans are so obtuse.” His brow furrowed and he wrinkled his nose in agitation, “I told you I was exhausted, now, please, let me get a moment’s peace before another one of the bumbling idiots you call friends comes crashing in through a window.”
I couldn't help but tease him, just a little, “Well if you’re just cold, I can always give you a warmer blanket. I know that’d be far better than enduring the utter torture of being held. Wouldn’t it?”
He paused. Just for a tiny fraction of a second, but I knew I’d flustered him, and that was enough to make me smile as he finally opened his eyes to glare up at me, “With the amount of time we’ve already wasted debating this subject, I could’ve been well on my way to unconsciousness by now. Stop arguing with me and lie down and let me sleep! Don’t make me regret allowing you to do this…”
Yes, my little liege! I did as I was told and curled up on the surface of the bed, careful not to jostle the small life in my hand as I lowered him down to the pillow. As soon as I laid still, he huffed a little sigh of relief and wriggled until he was comfortable, settling for curving his spine against the bowl of my palm, and using the pad of my ring finger for a pillow. In true Alexander fashion, he kept his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his brow creased and his lips tight around a set jaw. I didn’t think he knew how to relax even if he tried.
With a softness I knew he was entirely unaccustomed to in his past, I brushed the tip of my thumb over his chest, just as I had done when he’d asked for comfort at the kitchen table. I watched as he melted around me. Well, melted by Alexander standards. His brow still furrowed, his body rigid and his eyes remained closed but he didn’t flinch and instead loosened his arms and, very lightly, embraced the circumference of my thumb, about as wide as his whole chest. I leaned in, voice barely above a whisper, “Since when did you become such a cuddle bug?”
His face flushed with color as his eyes snapped open. He shoved my thumb away immediately, and stammered, “What? I’m, I’m not a–!” As he protested, he started to squirm beneath my hand, doing his level best to turn his back on me.
“It’s okay to want to be held, sometimes, Alexander. It doesn’t negate any of the things you said today. You can be strong and want to be loved on too…”
He snarled and pushed at my fingers, trying to free himself of any proximity to me now, little eyes still half-lidded and glassy, “I don’t need anything of the sort!”
I provided light resistance with my fingers, even hooking him around the waist and pulling him across the surface of the pillow by an inch or two. He growled, all disheveled and discontented, “Put me back on the bedside table. I can’t endure you any longer!”
I sighed theatrically, “Well, okay… but are you sure that’s what you really want?”
“You dense creature! Did I stutter?”
“Okay, okay! Jeez! Come here…” It’s not what I wanted, of course, but I had faith the little nightmare would come around. Wouldn’t he? Or had I just blown my chance to hold him and show him the affection I was itching to give him every second of every day? I felt my shoulders droop as I pinched him between finger and thumb and supported his legs with my opposite fingers. I was now sitting up in bed, the little man before me, his desired destination to my left.
I held him at eye level, seeking the truth behind that prickly exterior of his, “Do you want me to leave you alone, Alexander? I’ll do what you ask me, I promise.” I truly meant that. He was left a heaving mess, dangling in the air, hands gripping my thumb as he stared at me though his brows. Poor thing, I hadn’t meant to get him this dysregulated.
He glared at me for what felt like forever. I wished so badly he could just ask for the love and affection he so clearly craved but was far too embarrassed to acknowledge. I bit my lip, resigned to the fact that he was inevitably going to demand to be set down and left the hell alone. After all, what choice did he have? In his black and white thinking, to desire comfort from a human meant all his talk about resistance was meaningless. I sighed, wishing I could somehow impart to him I truly meant no harm, but instead began to lower him down to the bedside table.
“FINE!” His little voice cut through the air like a razor’s edge. I blinked, stopped all movement and returned to the scene before me. I held aloft a tiny man, his body weighing almost nothing at all. My thumb pressed against his chest while my pointer finger supported his back. He had his arms crossed somewhat awkwardly over the knuckle of my thumb, as his messy bangs hung haphazardly over his expressive little eyes, “I see what you’re doing. I see what game’s afoot!”
What the hell was he talking about? My brow furrowed. I’d been stringing him along up until this point, but now he was pulling me by the nose instead.
“You siren! You manipulative wretch! Your reverse psychology wouldn’t normally work on me, but you’ve caught me in a momentary state of vulnerability… Your charms are… somehow, against my will, taking their hold…”
Ohhhhh. Yet another little game because god forbid we ever be direct. Jesus Christ what a drama king.
I’d play along, then, if that’s what he needed to feel safe asking to be held, “Ahh! Yes! My spells are working! You could only resist for so long… And now, I’ll seal your fate once and for all!” Swiftly and without pausing for breath, I propped him up before me. I leaned in ever closer, and felt his body start to stiffen and squirm. As soon as a breathy “Natalie!” escaped him, I kissed his blonde rat’s nest of hair, my lips also covering the side of his face and neck.
When I pulled back enough to see his little face, I was met with wide, bright blue eyes that stared somewhat into the middle distance, as a tiny chest heaved up and down and a little mouth stayed open and slack jawed. Just like the last time I’d dared to kiss him, all his systems seemed to go into overload. I brushed my thumb over his hair, and whispered, “How’s that for charms, huh?” He was a brighter shade of red than any tomato I’d ever seen. He didn’t say a word, just blinking, still in shock, it seemed. Poor thing. I decided I wouldn’t put him through anything else, “Get some rest, Alexander. You blew me away today. Thank you for reminding us of how brilliant you are. Go to sleep now. You’ve had a long day…” With that, I lowered him back down to the pillow, with my hand cupped behind him.
As I watched him drift off to sleep, I could only imagine what was racing through that brilliant little mind. I wanted to watch him as long as I could, but eventually the utter exhaustion of the day caught up with me too, and despite my best efforts, I fell asleep, holding the little nightmare I adored so much.
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#Nerd Alert#Oh Alexander. ever the drama king#g/t#giant/tiny#g/t community#g/t writing#g/t related#gt community#giant tiny#g/t fluff
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I’m on my bed, fully clothed, and I cannot remember how I got here. I don’t know if I’m sitting up or lying down, or what is wall and what is ceiling. When I try to turn to my side, the room twists like a funhouse around me, the bed tilting like it's intent to slide me right off it. Am I alone? I think so.
That's my phone, the bright square of light. It lays on the sheets beside my face, and I grab it. Her name is right there. It's intuitive, too easy to find.
It rings three, four times, and she picks up. “Jude?” She's sleepy. I woke her.
“I’m sorry Michelle,” I slur, and I mean to be sorry for disturbing her, but she seems to assume that I’m apologising for much more than that.
She sighs, “I know you are, and I’m sorry too.”
“You’re sorry?”
“Yeah. Are you drunk?”
“Uh huh.” I should likely be sorry for that too.
“Where are you? Why are you drunk dialling me?” She doesn’t seem annoyed with me, concerned, hopeful, maybe, so I tell her the truth, “I miss you.”
I assume maybe I’ve passed out or somehow hallucinated this entire exchange because she's not responding, but then she sucks in a lungful of air and her voice trembles, “I miss you too, I wish you were here right now.”
“No, I was a bad boyfriend.”
“You weren’t.”
“I was the worst.”
“Not always.”
“...It's hard being on my own.”
“Yeah, for me too. Every single day has been horrible.”
I feel the kind of crushing, exaggerated sadness that I only ever do when I’ve had too much to drink, like I’m tumbling into a pit of despair so deep that the sun will never warm my face again. I can't think of a good reason why I have done this. “Sometimes I don’t want to go to Berlin,” I tell her hoarsely.
“Yeah,” she says, then hesitating like she wants to choose her words carefully, “You know that you don’t have to go, though.”
“I dunno.”
“You could stay in Dublin if you wanted to, It’s not too late. If the thought of leaving makes you too sad.”
That sounds deeply depressing, but being on my own is depressing too, and then I’m so frustrated that I fear I will start crying or something, “I can’t think.”
“You’re just drunk, but I think you’re saying this because it’s what you really mean.”
“Maybe.”
“I love you,” she says, and I hear her sitting up in bed, struck with urgency, “I haven't stopped feeling the same way about you, I still love you, and I want you to stay, if you're even considering it at all then that means-”
“Alright,” A group of guys pass by on the road outside, boisterously chanting some tuneless song and I’m conscious that I, or whoever brought me in here, never closed the curtains. I don't want other men to see me like this, and yet I'm unable to move.
“‘Alright’, as in, you’ll stay?” She says hopefully.
“No, like, that I heard you.”
“I think we’re supposed to be together.”
I wonder if she really believes that. Do I believe that? Maybe. “Mm. Maybe I’ll stay,” Sleep pulls at my eyes, which now rest unfocussed on a shimmery patch of sand outside the window. In the distance the waves roar against the shore, a lullaby. Sleep encroaches the corners of my vision and begins to suck me under.
“Please,” she says, really crying now, “I don’t want to be on my own. I’ve been imagining you finding someone else and falling in love with them and it makes me feel sick.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
A sniffle, “No?”
“No, I don’t ever think about other people, just you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Never ever ever. You're my girl.”
She sobs gently.
“Shell, I think I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not, you just made a selfish decision. You can still fix it and make it okay.”
My eyes are too heavy and the world is too weird and dizzy looking to keep them open, “Will you forgive me?” I manage with the last of my energy, but I’m too sleepy to listen to her answer. I pass out in three seconds, the phone warm in my palm, the speakers buzzing gently with the sound of her voice.
In the blinding light of the morning, though my head pounds and every colour and pattern is an assault on my senses, before doing another thing, I grab my phone from my pillow to see new messages from Michelle. I don't read any of them.
Hey.
I type.
I was really drunk. Disregard anything I said, I don't even remember what we talked about.
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The Ways of Love
@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt - "in the heart"
Cw: blood and injury
As Crowley fell back, arrow sticking out of his chest, he vaguely thought it was a prime opportunity for a joke. Something something, shot in the heart, fall in love? Was that how it went? Eros, Cupid, whatever?
He crashed into the ground and laid there, staring at the blue sky. Fluffy white clouds danced along, herded by a gentle breeze. It was a nice view.
Nice place, honestly. Meadow with flowers and everything. Or at least, it had been a nice place before he started bleeding all over it.
Woozy, he turned to look at the grass. Yep. That was a lot of blood. And that sure was an arrow sticking out of his chest.
“Crowley! Oh dear!” Aziraphale wavered into view above him, eyes wide. He was carrying a bow. “Are you quite all right?”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Crowley trudged through the pain-hazed bog of his mind in search of a proper joke. “Cupid.”
“What?” Frowning, Aziraphale bent over him. “What about Cupid?”
“You make a bloody awful one,” Crowley complained, and then passed out.
Well, more or less passed out. He was vaguely aware of being moved, of being in loads of pain, and of someone holding his hand.
The hand holding was nice. He liked it. Or at least, he would have liked it if he was conscious enough to appreciate it, and also if Aziraphale hadn’t just shot him.
For that matter, why had Aziraphale shot him? It was very unusual. Sure, he and Aziraphale were technically enemies, but they didn’t generally go around shooting each other. What was that about? Why would he do that?
Getting more offended as he thought about it, Crowley opened his eyes. He was on a boat or something, based on the gentle motion and the sails blocking the sun. Aziraphale sat beside him, holding his hand.
Crowley blinked a few times, then squinted at Aziraphale. “Well? Well?”
“Well what?” Aziraphale asked.
“Well, why did you shoot me?”
“I did not shoot you!”
Crowley cast a very deliberate look at his chest. There wasn’t an arrow sticking out of it anymore, which was nice, but bloody bandages covered the area. “Someone did. And you had a bow.”
“Yes, well. I-I’m afraid I was with a hunting party. You know, of noblemen and such. I was attempting to convince them to be more charitable to the poor.” Looking embarrassed, Aziraphale patted his hand. “One of the humans in my party shot you.”
That did make more sense. “On purpose, was it?”
“I’m afraid so. They thought you were a poacher.”
“Why would they think that? I didn’t have a bloody bow or anything, did I?”
“You might have set snares.”
“Right. Right.” Crowley glanced around. “So. Boat?”
“Mhm. It’s quite a nice boat, really. I think you’ll appreciate it much more, once you feel better. We’re going up the Thames to a very nice hall.” Aziraphale gazed at him for a moment. “What did you mean earlier?”
Considering the frequency with which he and Aziraphale resumed conversations that they’d started years prior, Crowley had no idea what that meant. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific than that, angel.”
“Oh. Um. Yes.” Aziraphale blushed. “What did you mean about Cupid, just before you fainted?”
Oh, that. “I was trying to make a joke.”
“About what?”
“About you shooting me in the heart.”
Aziraphale gave him an indignant look. “But I didn’t shoot you!”
“Right. Right. But… joke.” Gosh, Crowley still felt awful. “Anyway, being shot with Cupid’s arrow is supposed to make you fall in love or whatever, right?”
“Right,” Aziraphale said cautiously. “Are you flirting with me, Crowley?”
“No! Definitely not.” For a moment, Crowley stared at him. “Unless you want me to.”
At that, Aziraphale smiled. “I am deeply flattered, my dear, but I’m afraid I don’t really, um… I don’t have much of an interest in romance outside of stories.”
“Perfect. Me neither.” Crowley grinned and tried to sit up. He quickly stopped grinning and laid back, breathless with pain. “Ow. Okay, no moving.”
“I do think not moving is a better idea. Actually, now that you’re not so weak, I ought to try to heal that up.”
“Ngh.” Crowley laid there, thinking. “What if I flirt with you non-romantically? I mean. I mean. We are sort of partners or whatever, right? Arrangement and everything?”
Aziraphale’s expression went very soft, and he nodded as he fussed over the wound. He peeled the bandages back and bent, studying it. “Yes, I suppose we are. As much as an angel and a demon can be partners, anyway.”
“Yeah.” As far as Crowley was concerned, their individual sides really weren’t turning out to matter all that much. “So. Flirting? Non-romantically?”
“One moment.” Aziraphale pressed his hand to Crowley’s chest, right over his heart. “No more hole.”
Angelic power flooded through the wound, and Crowley hissed at the slight burn. But then, the overall pain dropped, and he relaxed. “Gosh. Thanks, that helps.”
“Of course. Quite happy to help. Since my attempts to encourage kindness and such among the humans seem to have failed, I suppose I’ll have to do it myself.” Smiling again, Aziraphale took his hand and squeezed. “Anyway. Flirt away.”
Crowley opened his mouth, then closed it. He frowned.
“Well?” Aziraphale prompted.
“Er.” Crowley sighed. “I have absolutely no idea how to flirt. Do you?”
“Not in the slightest.” Aziraphale patted his hand. “Why don’t we get some wine and have a nice argument about human charity instead?”
Crowley grinned. He already loved Aziraphale, in his own way, and he didn’t need to be shot with an arrow for that love to kick in. “Perfect. You start.”
#good omens#book omens#ineffable husbands#crowley#aziraphale#happy pride month here's some aromantic man-shaped beings
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The moment Kim rocked up as Shannon the dynamic between her and Eddie twists. I just have no idea whether the writers know that and meant it or didn't (hence the she was trying to be kind- yh still messed up).
I swear in one of Ryans interviews he basically said how the kiss was way too much and not needed and the hug was tonally more suitable. So they knew any kiss was messed up. Now perhaps Buck leaping to think his best friend was having sexy time rather than having a breakdown says more about Buck's own thought process with sex and trauma response. Add in Eddie's guilt over the whole thing = a complete mess of povs. Maybe we get a 'hold on what actually happened' scene next season.
Or of course they wanted a Buddie scene and in the rush had only filmed one which alludes to the kiss that had already been edited out. And we all just ignore it because we aren't supposed to think too deeply about it other than Eddie messed up who cares if it doesn't fit what we saw.
I would love if they actually acknowledge and explore this miscommunication, because it feels like the first really big one they’ve had, unless I’m forgetting something. They’ve kept things from each other before, but this time Eddie was genuinely trying to explain as best he could while freaking out, and Buck thought he understood but it’s not at all what actually happened.
It certainly feels intentional because in the episode before, Buck specifically clarified “But you haven’t had sex?” and then in this episode, “What wasn’t happening between you two ended up happening.”
And I don’t know if Eddie feels like it doesn’t matter whether or not they actually had sex, because he knows he massively fucked up and that’s just a minor detail, or if it never occurred to him that Buck would assume that.
But this season was so fucking weird and disjointed and shit keeps getting dismissed or ignored, that I genuinely can’t tell if this will come back around! Buck thinks Eddie was having sex, while Eddie was actually breaking down, and I don’t know what it means!
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