#anyway go listen to other people who are smarter than me and also not white if you wanna learn about this topic more | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

batmanisagatewaydrug · 9 months

Text

reading update: july 2023

I don't have a cool and witty opening for this one. I read a fuck of a lot of books this month and I want to tell you about them LET'S GO

Black Water Sister (Zen Cho, 2021) - Black Water Sister has a very fun premise: a closeted lesbian and unemployed recent graduate moves back to Malaysia with her parents and is already having a bad enough time when she starts hearing the voice of her dead grandmother, who turns out to have been deeply involved in supernatural organized crime. our hapless protagonist becomes a medium against her will, and has to navigate to world of Malaysian spirits and superstition to lay her grandma to rest. unfortunately the actual style of the story wasn't more me; although definitely adult fiction, the prose is breezy in a way I affiliate strongly with YA, which is not to my personal taste but is still so hashtag valid. if you're one of the countless people trying to make that jump from YA to adult fiction and you like queer urban fantasy then Black Water Sister might be a great fit for you, although I should provide a warning for a pretty surprisingly graphic near-rape in the book's climax that really took me by surprise in a story that's otherwise pretty zany in its violence.

The Bride Test (Helen Hoang, 2019) - I think I said last month that Alexis Hall's A Lady for a Duke was the best so far of the romance-novel-every-month scheme I'm trying to pull off this year. the Bride Test has pretty swiftly displaced it; have I finally discovered the really good romance novels? (worry not; I know what I'm reading for August and my hopes are. low.) our two protagonists, Mỹ/Esme (her chosen American/English name) and Khai, are both genuinely charming and are pretty strong characters independent of each other, which cannot be said for A Lot of romance protags. despite the absolute insanity of how they met (yes, Khai's mother went to Vietnam and offered, uneducated a poor single mother a tourist visa in exchange for trying to seduce her autistic son. yes, that's shady. don't think about it too hard) and Esme waiting until WAY too late in the game to reveal the existence of HER LIVING HUMAN CHILD, I liked this book a lot. it's silly and heartfelt and I had fun; what else do you need? 5/5 eggplant emojis.

Giovanni's Room (James Baldwin, 1956) - there's probably nothing I can say about Giovanni's Room that I could say that someone smarter and gayer hasn't already said, but god. it really is breathtaking. I so often see this book talked about as a gay tragedy, and honestly that feels like almost too glib of a description. it's a really meticulous dissection of white male masculinity and the claustrophobic constraints there of, and our narrator's claustrophobic fear of divesting himself from the power that he's entitled to by virtue of being a white American man perceived as a heterosexual. this man would rather live in repressed misery for his entire life than risk being like those effeminate faggots at the gay club, but spoiler alert! being miserable doesn't make you better than your fellow fags; it just means you're miserable AND a fag. sharp and painful and so so so smart. also I'm going to summon @zaricats because I was supposed to tell you what I thought about this book. oops!

Lone Women (Victor LaValle, 2023) - okay so listen. did I just say Black Water Sister wasn't really for me because of the simplistic prose? yes. did I really enjoy the very sparse, straightforward style of Lone Women? also yes. leave me alone, I contain contradictions. anyway, Lone Women is a ripping piece of historical fiction spliced with supernatural secrets, based on LaValle's research into 19th century Black women homesteaders who made their lives in Montana. LaValle opens on a scene of irresistible intrigue - Adelaide Henry, lone woman, sets out for Montana with a mysteriously heavy trunk after burning down her family's California farm with her parents' mutilated corpses inside. and boy, does it escalate from there! it's a story about isolation and community and the people who are failed by so-called close knit small towns, and the ways in which vulnerable people band together to protect one another. it also makes the compelling point that maybe, just maybe, the real monsters were your local transphobe and her husband's lynch mob all along.

Black Disability Politics (Sami Schalk, 2022) - what a cool book! Schalk's argument begins with the idea that Black disability politics are distinct from predominantly white mainstream disability politics, and are therefore often overlooked in conversation, activism, and academia. Schalk analyzes the historical work of the Black Panthers and the National Black Women's Health Project to showcase what she describes as Black disability politics in action. in Schalk's conception, Black disability politics take a much more holistic approach to disability, conceptualizing as just one form (and, frequently, as a result of) of oppression tangled up with a myriad of others that cannot be meaningfully addressed when they're treated as separate issues. the book concludes in interviews with contemporary Black disability activists and organizers that shed light on ways in which the wider movement is often unwelcoming to folks of color, and an exhortation from Schalk for readers to continue the conversation well beyond the confines of the book. in a killer show of praxis, the entire book has been made available to read in PDF form, and I strongly recommend giving it a look!

The River of Silver (S.A. Chakraborty, 2022) - mentally I am kicking myself a little for waiting so long to read this continuation of my beloved Daevabad trilogy, because it did take me a minute to get back into the swing and mythology of the world and that did make me feel unpleasantly like I wasn't appreciating these character-focused short stories as much as I could be. but even having said that - man! fuck I love the world of Daevabad, and I adore these characters so much. getting to see them again, even briefly, was a delight, and I am once again congratulating Nahri and Ali on being the invention of heterosexual romance. (also, on a related note, but I ADORE the way Chakraborty writes her characters having crushes. they crush SO hard and it's very sweet. these books are such big drama all the way down.)

Men We Reaped (Jesmyn Ward, 2013) - an absolute powerhouse of a memoir, and devastating the whole way down. in Men We Reaped Ward attempts to make sense of a series of tragedies that befell her community when five young Black men - beginning with Ward's younger brother - died between 2000 and 2004. the word 'unflinching' is hopelessly played out, but it's difficult to figure out how to describe the head-on way Ward explores each young man's life and ultimate end and her own upbringing. the men in Ward's history - her brother, the friends she lost, her father and other male relatives - are never idealized; their demons, miseries, infidelities, addictions, and violence are placed on full display. but Ward is also insistent on displaying these men with dignity, compassion, empathy; showing them at their best and, most importantly, as men who were loved and deserved better than the violence that poverty and racism wrought on them. it's a furious memoir, one that will leave you mourning too.

Nimona (ND Stevenson, 2015) - did I only read this so I can make more informed complaints if/when I end up watching the netflix movie with my wife? YES. but listen, it wasn't JUST petty hater behavior. Nimona is just really good, and I think I got a lot more out of it this time around that I did when I first read it years ago. this comic is wild and unfettered and so spectacularly weird; I wish more things felt the way Nimona does. I also with more things starred small girls begging to kill cops and stage a violent overthrow of the government, that rules hard. also man I love Ballister, he's SUCH a good protagonist. he's curmudgeonly, he's deeply principled, he's held a grudge for years, he's paternal, he's even gay. what a guy!

#reading updates

42 notes · View notes

souryogurt64 · 2 years

Text

Unsourced quote from a 29 year old male musician going around with 24k notes about how social media has suddenly made teenagers evil harassers only in the last 3 years and parents need to take phones from their kids because all of the sudden out of nowhere people are harassing musicians due to misguided attempts at social justice. All of the comments on this post are positive saying he's right and they love him. Find and read the interview and he's talking about how, seemingly for no reason, he and other musicians he's friends with are being heckled at shows because of evil teens who shouldn't have phones and their evil social media rotting their brains with social justice propaganda.

All this sets off a very bad feeling so I Google his name because I don't know who he is and one of the top results is a grooming accusation. The individual (who is transmasc) was 16 when they became a fan and was 18 and therefore technically an adult when they made contact, and the musician was in his mid-20s, but it's obvious he knew this relationship was inappropriate as he made comments about "feeling like a creep" and the other party being "mature" for their age.

Anyway a guy in a rock band is not automatically entitled to quiet reverence from every person he meets or performs for because he thinks he is god's gift to humanity cause he plays guitar. Girls in bands like The Slits were raped and stabbed trying to tour and perform because of the opinions they had and because they wanted to exist in the same places as guys. They didn't shit their pants and cry because some teenagers they and their friends were shitty to booed during their set and were annoying on Twitter.

After the Riot Grrrl movement there was a backlash against feminism so strong girls were getting gang-raped in public during sets like Limp Bizkit and Korn and no one did anything. Obviously on a national scale Roe v Wade got overturned, but in terms of rock music, the writing has been on the wall-- Netflix made a show about Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee and conveniently did not depict the part where she filed for divorce because he repeatedly kicked her while she held their newborn baby, Rolling Stone is obviously siding with All Time Low and planned to the entire time, bands like Brand New are making a comeback, and people have started to shamelessly say things to me that wouldn't have flown at all a couple years ago like ask me to interview a known white supremacist or confidently tell me they're proud to announce Shane Dawson is a huge influence on them or they're excited to share with their fans they are touring with a guy that beat his girlfriend so badly she was hospitalized. Plus there's Billie Joe Armstrong quietly following Johnny Depp on Instagram after his piece of shit son sexually abused a 17 year old.

Most dire I think was the Astroworld thing-- eight people died, including a nine year old child, and even though it wasn't explicitly a women's issue a cameraman threatened to kill or seriously injure a young woman who was begging and pleading for help because people were dying because he assumed she was just hysterical and wanted attention and what she had to say didn't matter, and her life and other peoples lives, including that of a nine year old, mattered less than stopping some coked-up ego-stroking bro-fest for a couple minutes. Especially since Travis Scott had a history of encouraging crowd violence at shows.

I'm not linking the post or saying who because I don't particularly want drama over some band or guy or whatever he is I've never heard of, especially since I know I listen to, and post incessantly about, plenty of "problematic" rock musicians that are also shitty misogynists and have done terrible things. But people on here need to be smarter and think critically about what they're reblogging, who they're agreeing with, and what rhetoric they're spreading when they reblog posts like that and how that rhetoric contributes to the massive feminist backlash that's happening right now. Every Tumblrina on here screams and cries and acts so shocked and appalled when Roe v Wade gets overturned and like they never saw it coming but they spent years reblogging blatant antifeminist and anti-choice rhetoric like hand-wringing posts about women who get abortion for the "wrong" reasons and how the "wrong" feminists focus on the "wrong" issues like focusing on "choices" and how cringe feminism is because of "some" feminists.

People need to be smarter, especially before they reblog a post from a 29 year old saying parents need to isolate their kids and take away their Internet access because he's throwing a temper tantrum after the teenager he behaved inappropriately with (and the teenagers his friends behaved inappropriately with) are standing up for themselves instead of treating him with reverence and worship and enabling him to do whatever he wants because he's bigger and older and in a rock band. People need to pay attention to what rhetoric they're spreading, especially when it's a loser like that crying about icky social justice warriors on Twitter. You guys are all so stupid it hurts

#also that dumbshit was saying they shouldnt have been online during covid #bro SCHOOL was online

46 notes · View notes

egyptsass · 1 year

Text

So I was going to listen to the Beatles. I say I don’t know I don’t know I don’t wanna do it around people here. I don’t even care for the jokes either sometimes no OK either way actually curious Tolstoy button. 00 you poor thing bless your heart.

Anyway, anyway, I had a really really disgusting dream and I’m gonna go with my intuition on this one. I think that he does have a son and I think his son reminds me of Billy yes, there is a lot to say about family dynamics and cleanliness lack there of all of that shit I said, and cleanliness, and also racism, and all of that schism shit From people who are not very smart very trashy

So anyways, my dream somebody’s thinking that I am Teresa Cooper or somebody thinking that they are a psychologist, but they are not somebody thinking that they are smarter than their daddy and mother who does not care I said, and a mother who does not care, and she simply turns the other direction to some stuff that I’m like this is not cool the people had no idea who anybody was not really. Teresa is as smart as she needs to be to manipulate the average stupid person and she has manipulated me before and I believed her maybe once or twice not me very much most of us don’t believe her.

And now she will never be a famous writer murder she wrote twinkly lol so heat heat is definitely drawn to the twinkly bullshit. It’s all lies. Are you telling me that these people are not retarded because I’m getting a different impression I don’t get the feeling these are particularly intelligent people. This is just a case of greasy white privilege cause it’s all America had left and now the politicians are freaking the fuck out.

0 notes

jenoismydad · 3 years

Text

2 + 3 = You In Me

◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦◦

Pairing: Tutor!Jaemin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut (pwp), Slight Angst, College AU

Words: 4.6k+

Warnings: 18+ content. Unprotected sex.

Synopsis: He agrees to tutor you and you end up becoming good friends even though you both so clearly want to be more. What happens when you let you bodies talk for you?

Jaemin was coming over to help you prepare for a test. You had no clue how he'd agreed to assist you, but you were thankful nonetheless. Jaemin rarely ever studied with girls. Mostly because they were always hitting on him. But it seemed you were an exception. You wondered why but you figured it was because he was trying to make some extra money.

Yes, Jaemin made you pay him. He made everyone pay him so you didn't think too much of it. From what you'd heard, his methods never failed to prove effective. You hoped he could help you study well enough to pass this test. After all, a majority of your grade depended on it.

You'd spent a good amount of your time trying to prepare a nice study space for you both to sit at in your apartment. So far you'd only managed to clean your coffee table and place two cushions for seats at its feet.

Jaemin would be here any minute. You rushed to get everything you'd need for the day, wanting to keep it all ready so that you wouldn't have to interrupt the study session. Your bell rang not soon after. He was here on time.

Opening the door, you welcomed him with a smile. He nodded and entered without a word. Black track pants and a plain white shirt. Jaemin hadn't made much of an effort to dress to impress. He ventured into your dorm, looking around the place silently.

That's when he came across your makeshift study zone. He pointed at it and looked at you.

"We're studying here," he asked, placing his hands in his pockets. He sounded a tad bit dejected. Your eyes widened slightly in panic. Was he not comfortable with sitting on the floor? "Yeah, I figured. Is there a problem," you asked, fearing the worst for no reason. Jaemin shook his head. "Nope, I just thought we were gonna sit in your room. That's where most of the girls take me anyways," he revealed, flashing you a small grin. You immediately felt at ease.

"My room's kind of a mess at the moment," you admitted, joining him near your couch. He took a seat on the floor, placing the cushion behind his back instead. He cleaned his black-rimmed glasses and patted the space next to himself. "Let's get started."

Jaemin was a pro at breaking down the complex concept so that your pea-sized brain could understand it to the fullest. The only drawback with that method was that it took much longer than you'd like it to. Two hours later you'd only finished one of the chapters that would be coming for the test. You still had four more to go.

"Fuck it's already three o'clock," you complained, falling dramatically on the coffee table. Jaemin flipped his pen in his fingers and stretched his body with a yawn. "I don't mind staying overtime," he joked. He'd made a lot of humoring comments during your time with him. The last you'd heard, he tended to be quite serious, never straying from his purpose. Not that you minded or anything, but Jaemin wasn't really meeting the expectations everyone had set for him in your mind. Maybe they were just trying to intimidate you.

"Don't you have to study too," you asked, turning your head to glance at him. He looked at you and shook his head. "I already studied beforehand. Plus, this test's gonna be super easy. You pass it with a breeze," he admitted. As relieving as that sounded, you didn't wanna take any chances. What if he flunked the test because he didn't revise or something. You really didn't want to be the person he blamed when that happened.

"You don't have to stay for my sake. You can go home if you want to. I think I can manage on my own now." you flipped through the pages of your coursebook, sighing in despair. It was a lot to go through. At least you still had half the day left.

Jaemin folded his arms. "Don't worry about me y/n. Not to undermine you, but I don't think you can get through all of this by yourself. I mean, you barely managed to understand the basics. All those chapters just branch off from this one and get increasingly tough to learn."

If this was him trying to convince you to let him stay then it sure as hell was working. You groaned and sat back up. "You promise you won't fail the test because of me then?" Jaemin chuckled. "Of course not. I'll pass with flying colors."

So you resumed studying. Jaemin was right. What he taught you next was more confusing than the first chapter you'd covered. You regretted not paying attention during your lectures. Jaemin never got impatient with you. In fact, he took ample time to make sure you understood everything he explained to you. He was very thorough and you appreciated that. However the more knowledge you absorbed, the more exhausted you felt. It got to the point where you felt like you couldn't study any further. Jaemin then suggested that you take a small break. You couldn't have agreed faster.

"Once we're done you should go through the practice questions that I emailed you," Jaemin reminded, taking a sip of the soda you'd offered him. You gave him a thumbs up and fell on the ground. "You're a lifesaver Na Jaemin."

Jaemin chuckled and turned to you. "I'm guessing it's not just math that you're having a problem with."

You raised your head and narrowed your eyes at him. "Nicely deduced."

"We can get together to study together for your other subjects if you don't mind. No need to pay me either," he offered.

You furrowed your brows. "Jaemin the longer you spend teaching me the dumber you're gonna get."

He brushed you off. "I'm pretty sure it doesn't work like that."

"You never know, and besides, after today you should know that it's gonna take five hundred years to clear all my concepts. Do you even have that kind of time?"

Jaemin tilted his soda can at you. "You'd be surprised at how much free time I have on my hands."

You smiled. "Wait so you're actually agreed to be my personal tutor."

Jaemin rolled his eyes amusedly. "It was my proposition but yes. I wouldn't be your personal tutor though. Just a study partner."

You sat up and leaned back. "So like, studying in the library after class and stuff like that?"

He nodded. "If the library's closed we can come here or I can take you to my place."

You pursed your lips, considering his deal. But something paused your train of thoughts. "Wait a minute. Why are you asking me this all of a sudden? You hardly seem like the type of guy who'd study with someone else."

Jaemin downed his drink, wincing at the fizziness that clawed at his throat. "I've had fun studying with you so far. Like, you're genuinely dumb, unlike some other people I tutor who just pretend to be dumb so they can spend a few hours with me."

You raised a brow. Had he just called you dumb? "I'll try not to take offense, thank you very much."

Jaemin apologized with a laugh.

"Does it make you feel smarter in some type of way," you asked? Jaemin hummed in response. "It kinda does now that you mention it. But I also feel like it would help me revise and clear my own concepts at the same time."

That made sense. "Damn, and here I was thinking you wanted to do this cause you were interested in me."

Jaemin's eyes widened. You raised your hands in defense. "It's just a joke. Don't take it seriously," you assured. Jaemin relaxed at that.

"Let's get started again. We're almost halfway there," he said, changing the topic. You agreed and sat beside him again, pen in hand, ready to go.

You walked out of your lecture with a bright smile on your face and headed straight to the library. Sure enough, Jaemin was already sitting there, waiting for you patiently. You sent him a small wave and skipped over to him. Handing him your graded test paper, you watched excitedly as his eyes lit up.

"Oh my god. You passed!"

You squealed and sat next to him, placing your bag near your feet. Jaemin smiled up at you. "This is such a good score," he added, glad that he'd been able to help.

"Henceforth we're studying together for every single test. I don't care if you're sick or at a friend's house."

Jaemin laughed and nodded. "Sure thing. If it means seeing you this happy then I'm down."

You froze at his words, glancing towards him. He clearly didn't seem to realize what he'd just said. Maybe you'd heard wrong. It was possible. After all, he was whispering. You didn't exactly have the best track record when it came to listening anyways. Concluding that you were mistaken, you pulled out your books and got to finishing up your assignments.

A few hours later Jaemin and you exited the library. You both usually parted ways since your dorms were in the opposite direction. However today, Jaemin followed behind you.

"What are you doing," you asked when he jogged up next to you. "We should celebrate your achievement today," he suggested. That sounded nice. "Okay then, what do you propose we should do?"

Jaemin pondered on your question. "Let's go to the cafe. I'll buy you coffee and anything else you want."

Coffee was perfect. You nodded and agreed. Jaemin grinned and led you to a small cafe that was just a little outside campus.

You both entered the small shop, the tantalizing scent of coffee hitting your senses immediately. Even though it was almost lunchtime, the cafe was brimming with multitudes of students. Luckily, the queue was short.

"Go find us somewhere nice to sit. I'll buy us some drinks," Jaemin said, pulling out his phone. Before you left, you let him know what you'd like.

Venturing to the back of the cafe, you found a secluded booth for two. It faced a large window, one that gave a fantastic view of the campus. You took a seat and placed your bag next to you. After a couple minutes of waiting, Jaemin emerged with your drinks in hand. He handed you yours before sitting down.

"Iced Americano? I see you're into the classics," you chimed, deciding to spark up a conversation. Jaemin took a sip of his drink. "Simple is the best after all."

Of course, it was. "Hey Jaemin," you started, setting your drink down on the table. He hummed. "Do you wanna come over later today," you asked. Jaemin furrowed his brows. "But we already finished studying."

You shook your head. "Not to study. Let's hang out, maybe watch a movie or something like that."

He seemed a bit taken aback, but nothing too alarming. It was just that you two never really did anything other than study together. Sure enough, you'd become close because of it. But you figured as friends, there were other things you could engage in to pass the time.

"Let's do it. What time should I come over," Jaemin asked? "Does seven work for you? I'll order pizza, so you don't need to worry about dinner."

Jaemin nodded. "Seven works for me."

As soon as the clock struck seven, there was a knock on your door. The ever punctual Jaemin would never be a second late. You let him in, eager to get your night started. He walked into your dorm and went straight to your room, plopping down on your bed as if it were his own.

You'd already been browsing on Netflix, wondering what genre he liked. It had never come up in conversation before so you didn't really know.

"What are we watching," he asked, scrolling through the options. You shrugged and joined him on your bed. "I'm not sure. I didn't know what you like," you admitted.

"I usually just watch whatever's in the top ten or 'new this week'," he shared. He stopped at a movie you would never have believed he'd be interested in.

"You wanna watch Yes Day," you asked in disbelief? Jaemin giggled and nodded innocently. "It looks super lame but I've already finished watching everything," he revealed. Here you were thinking you both would watch something more serious instead of a family movie. Instead of spending forty minutes trying to settle on one movie, you decided it best to just go with the first choice.

Jaemin started the movie and leaned back beside you. It was quiet between you both for the most part. You watched the movie in silence. It wasn't as entertaining as you'd thought it would be, but Jaemin seemed to be engrossed in it so you chose to say nothing and continued staring at the screen.

Halfway into the movie, Jaemin stifled a yawn and fell to the side, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He looked at you and pointed to the screen. "Are we gonna keep watching this?"

You let out a breath of relief and exited out of the movie once and for all. "If you didn't like it why'd you make me watch it," you complained, shutting your laptop. Jaemin sat up and crossed his legs. "I thought you were enjoying it. You even laughed at the funny parts."

You stuck your chin out. "You should know what my fake laugh sounds like by now Jaemin." He raised his hands in defense. "The only time I hear you laugh is when you realize you're doing something wrong."

You tsked. "That's called nervous laughter genius. You suck at interpreting emotions."

He hit you with a pillow softly. "Hey, stop making me out for a robot."

"You're the human embodiment of the AI," you joked, dodging the pillow he swung at you. Raising your hands in defense, you shielded yourself from him. "At least I said you're intelligent."

Jaemin paused his attacks. "You're lucky I think you're cute. I'll let you off the hook for now."

You had another one of those moments where you froze, wondering if the words that had come out of his mouth were true or not. He didn't whisper this time. You'd heard everything word for word. But you couldn't believe it.

"Did you just call me cute?"

Jaemin nodded, not seeming too surprised about it. "You aren't not cute," he added. Maybe you were misinterpreting the meaning behind it. Friends called friends cute. It was normal. That didn't mean that they liked each other, did it?

Noticing the conflict in your expression, Jaemin leaned forward and cleared his throat. "I didn't mean it in an 'I have a crush on you' type of way."

Something about that made your stomach churn. You felt uneasy all of a sudden. You wanted to be relieved, that he didn't think of you as more than a friend. But a part of you wished he felt otherwise. You didn't know why, it just did.

You chuckled awkwardly and faced him. "Yeah, of course, you didn't. I don't know why I thought that."

Jaemin hummed and rested his chin on his palm. "Maybe because you wanted it to be true."

"Huh?"

"Maybe you wanted me to tell you that I like you."

You didn't know what to say to that. So you just smiled awkwardly. "But you don't, do you?"

Jaemin grinned. "Do you want me to?"

"No! Of course not, why would I-"

"I'm just messing with you y/n. Don't worry, we're just friends," he assured, finding you getting alarmed quite amusing. You hit his shoulder. "Don't joke around like that. Who knows what might happen."

Jaemin's laughter died down. He met your gaze sombrely. You knew he wanted to say something, but he remained silent. His eyes traveled down to your lips for a moment. You sucked in a breath, suddenly feeling giddy. Jaemin looked back into your eyes, this time with a small smile. You didn't know what he was doing. You also didn't know if you liked it or not. Your mind said one thing and your body said another. Jaemin subtly licked his lips. You had no clue why the action had such a devastating effect on you.

Before you knew it, your lips were on his. Jaemin didn't seem surprised at all. In fact, he relaxed and snaked his arm around your waist, pulling your body onto his. He fell back on your mattress, bringing you on top of him. Straddling his lap, you placed your hands on either side of his head, kissing him with vigor. Jaemin groaned against your mouth, the sound sending warm shivers down your back. His lips were softer than you thought they'd be and he tasted faintly of coffee.

His hands slipped under your shirt, resting on your skin. His touch felt fiery hot. You rolled your hips over his lap impulsively, biting his both lip as a throaty groan left his mouth. He squeezed your waist and trailed his hands down to your ass.

Before things could escalate, however, your bell rang. You both stilled, separating from each other. When your eyes met, you scrambled off of him and sat at the edge of your bed, completely stunned. Jaemin rubbed his face and sat up as well, not really knowing what to say. The bell rang again, snapping you out of your daze. "I'll go get that," you muttered disorientedly, leaving Jaemin in your room. He nodded and stood up. "Actually, I'm gonna go," he said, leaving your room before you could say anything. You heard the door open and shut soon after. Your bell rang again.

You went to open your door. A delivery guy stood before you, hands empty with a confused look on his face. "The guy that just left took the pizza with him. He said that you'd pay for it." You couldn't believe it. Nonetheless, you paid the man and shut your door. What had just happened?

A few days passed after the incident at your dorm. Jaemin hadn't called or texted you and in all honesty, you hadn't made an attempt to contact him. You felt too embarrassed to face him. After all, it was you who'd gone onto him. Even if he didn't push you away it wasn't like either of you had agreed to start making out. You were anxious because you knew you'd ruined your friendship with him.

A part of you missed him. You enjoyed spending time with him, even though all you did was study. Everything was so bleak now that he wasn't around to humor you.

You didn't want to regret whatever had happened that night. It was amazing. You just wished it hadn't ended the way it did. You should have understood that he indeed was joking. Instead, you mistook his prodding for sarcasm.

It made no sense for you to not speak to him. You wanted to make amends, figure out what had gone wrong. But you were scared he'd ignore you. That would just make you feel worse than you already did.

So you passed the days, wafting in your own misery. Pitying yourself as if the entire weight of the world had been thrown on your shoulders.

Little did you know that all it would take was another shitty test score for you to pick up your phone and call Jaemin.

"Help me study," you said as soon as he answered the call. Jaemin was silent on the other end. "Don't just listen to me. Say something," you begged. Your heart felt heavy. You heard him sigh. "I'd rather not y/n." You got goosebumps. "Jaemin, please. We can go to fucking library if that makes you feel better," you suggested, desperate for him to agree. After giving it some thought he finally answered you. "Okay fine. Tomorrow at three. But no longer than three hours."

He hung up, leaving you feeling a tad bit better. You looked forward to the next day. Hopefully, he wouldn't act indifferent to you.

Jaemin sat in your usual spot at the library. He was on his phone, leg crossed over his lap leisurely. You walked up to him and took a seat beside him without a word. Seeing you had arrived, he put his phone away and turned to you. "What are we studying?"

You took out your books and opened them. "This."

Jaemin glanced over the material. No wonder you'd flunked your test. He sighed, placing the textbook between you two. Without wasting a second, he began tutoring you.

No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't pay attention. You were too busy staring at his face, more specifically his lips. They way he'd lick them ever so often made butterflies soar in your stomach. He'd run his hand through his fluffy hair and adjust his glasses, letting your mind run wild. Jaemin didn't seem to notice your lack of focus. You figured he didn't really care. He kept glancing at his watch. It was like he was waiting for your time with him to come to an end.

Much to your dismay, eventually it did.

"I'll send you a picture of some practice material. You can use that to prepare better," he concluded, getting up from his seat. You quickly stuffed your books in your bag and ran after him.

"Jaemin wait!"

He paused. "What," he asked as he turned around. He sounded disinterested. "Can we talk," you asked? Jaemin sighed and shrugged. "What do you wanna talk about," he questioned, placing his hands in his pockets. "About what happened at my place last week."

Jaemin tensed up. "It was a mistake. I think we both understood that."

You shook your head. "I don't know Jaemin, I'm not sure I did."

He furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"

"The more I thought about it the more I realized that I wouldn't have kissed you unless I wanted to. Not just that but you wouldn't have let it go so far if you thought it was wrong."

He seemed at a loss for words.

"When you called me cute, you did mean it in an 'I have a crush on you' type of way." You didn't need an answer for him to know you were correct.

"What are you trying to say y/n," he asked, sounding defeated.

"That I like you," you admitted. Jaemin's eyes widened. "And that you like me too," you added.

Jaemin bit his lip. "Okay, so then why were we acting like we hated each other for so long?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe because you overthink everything and I'm a big pussy."

Jaemin chuckled and slung his arm around your shoulder. "I'm sorry about that babe."

You cringed at the nickname. "Don't 'babe' me. We're not dating. Not yet."

Jaemin rolled his eyes. "Does it really need to be that formal?"

You nodded adamantly. "Of course it does."

He sighed. "Fine. Will you go out with me y/n?"

You smiled and shook your head. "I'd rather not Jaemin."

"Yeah whatever," he said with a scoff, leading you outside.

As soon as you were past your door Jaemin's lips were on yours in an instant. He pushed you against the wall, wrapping your legs around his waist. You held onto his shoulders, sighing into his mouth. "I missed you so fucking much," he muttered, stumbling to your room.

He dropped you on your bed and hovered over you, staring down at you somberly before kissing you again. His lips didn't stay on yours for too long, trailing down to your jaw and then your neck. You tugged at his shirt, urging him to take it off. When he did, you stared at his chiseled body in awe. "I didn't know you worked out."

Jaemin chuckled at your comment and pulled your own shirt off. He flicked the tiny bow on your bra with an amused grin. "This is cute."

You nudged his arm timidly. "I wasn't exactly preparing myself for this moment."

He said nothing further and latched his lips to your neck once again. Running your fingers through his hair, you craned your neck to the side to give him more access. He gently sucked on your skin, not too harsh that it would leave marks. You sighed and fiddled with the waistband of his sweatpants. "Do you want it off," he asked quietly, lips ghosting over yours. You nodded, biting your lip when he pushed his pants down.

His member came into sight, making your mouth water.

Taking your hand in his, he brought it to his cock. Your fingers wrapped around his girth instinctively. Jaemin suck in a breath as he made you stroke his length. His hand slipped past your panties, fingers toying with your clit. You gasped and spread your legs wider, loving the way his calloused fingertips felt. Tightening your grip around his cock, you jerked him off earnestly. In turn, Jaemin began rubbing quick circles into your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Letting go of his member, you hastily pushed your pants down your legs. Jaemin peeled your panties off of you, marveling at the sight of your glistening pussy. "Don't just stare," you complained, shutting your legs, "do something."

Jaemin wordlessly, spread your legs apart and settled down between your thighs. He glanced up at your through his lashes, asking for permission before licking a stripe up your folds. You pushed your hips against his mouth, eyes falling shut when he repeated the action. Holding onto your thighs, he nipped and sucked at your clit, groaning every time your bucked your hips into his face. You gripped onto his hair, tugging at his roots. Jaemin's fingers prodded at your slit, slowly entering your walls. He curled them up, making your arch your back in delight. It felt so good. He knew exactly what he was doing.

With his tongue skillfully moving over your clit and his fingers continuously pumping in and out of you, it didn't take long for you to feel a familiar knot in your stomach. You sat up, pulling his mouth off of your cunt. "I need you to fuck me now." Your voice was hushed, breathless because of how much you'd moaned. Jaemin's eyes had darkened considerably. He pushed you down on your back again and pressed his tip to your entrance.

Jaemin felt bigger than he looked. Not that you were complaining or anything, it just took a while to get used to. He made sure you were comfortable before slowly starting to pound into you.

You grabbed his arms as he fastened his pace, head falling back in ecstasy. Shallow breaths left his parted lips. "You feel so good," he muttered, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His breath was hot on your skin. You wrapped your arms around his neck, humming in response. You were close. Jaemin could tell.

Gripping onto your waist, he went faster, slamming his cock into you as he chased your highs. You cried out his name, squeezing your eyes shut. Your walls clenched tightly around his length, your orgasm crashing down on you intensely. Soon enough, he twitched inside you. His thighs stilled, hips snapping into you one last time before thick ropes of his cum shot into your walls. He let out a pleased groan, voice deep and raspy.

"That was amazing," you breathed, pushing your hair out of your face as Jaemin moved off of you. He smiled and tugged his pants back on, joining you under the covers. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." Jaemin pulled you into his side, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. You laughed to yourself. "What is it," Jaemin asked. You shook your head, looking at him. "To think this all started after you agreed to tutor me."

tagging: @neosmutcollective @hoehousenet @kdiarynet @kafenetwork @nct-writers @ficscafe @whipped-kpop-creators @kpopscape

834 notes · View notes

thequackcity · 3 years

Text

Quackity and Schlatt’s Relationship - More Complicated Then You Think

(this is all /rp and about the characters from the dream smp! pls assume i have the dignity not to write analysis of youtubers)

recently there was a bit of discourse surrounding the relationship between Quackity and Schlatt floating around on tumblr. tho i never saw the original post that sparked the conversation, i did see a few posts that were inspired by it mentioning how they disliked that the original post implied that Quackity and Schlatt were mutually abusive and/or equally bad for each other

since i never saw the original post, i can't be sure if that's what the op meant to imply. it's not really my place to speak about a post that i never got the chance to read. BUT the conversation that was caused by the post in question did get me thinking about how this fandom treats the relationship between Quackity and Schlatt and how little nuance there is in discussions about it

now before i say anything else, i want to make a few things clear:

i don't think Quackity and Schlatt’s relationship is mutually abusive. no need to worry about hearing that from this post

i don't look down on ppl who have different interpretations of their relationship

there will be potentially triggering content in this analysis. i will place a quick warning whenever i think one is needed!

their relationship is romantic in canon and therefore i’ll be treating it as romantic

alright now that we’ve gotten all of that out of the way, we can finally get on with the analysis! i apologize for how long this is gonna be

part 1: let's talk relationship!

i think we can all agree that Quackity and Schlatt’s relationship was not exactly a healthy one. tho it didn't start out that way, it certainly turned into what could be read as abusive or toxic (i personally read their relationship as being abusive in its later half due to evidence provided by the text, but i understand if others prefer to view it as just toxic instead)

but what happened that led to their partnership ending so badly? what caused all of this mess?

well, it was a lot of things. but we will get to that later. let's talk relationship first!

from the very beginning, Quackity and Schlatt’s relationship was pretty one-sided. tho they both clearly liked each other as friends/partners in crime both before and after the election (yes they did interact before the election!) Quackity was also interested in Schlatt romantically- something that Schlatt wasn't fully committed to

as we all know from the infamous date stream and from a few other moments, Quackity and Schlatt enjoyed playfully flirting with each other- tho it was pretty obvious that Quackity was more serious about it then Schlatt was even tho Schlatt considered Quackity to be very attractive

in my opinion, Quackity is someone who wants a long term relationship, while Schlatt is more interested in flings. this can be seen in Schlatt refusing to marry Quackity and rejecting most of his advances while Quackity tried his best to convince him to feel otherwise. Tommy put it best: Quackity is just one of Schlatt’s many bitches U_U

to Quackity, the romantic aspect of their relationship was very important. because Schlatt never actually shot him down or told him that he didn't feel the same way, Quackity took that to mean that they were truly in love. Schlatt on the other hand wasn't very invested in the romantic side of things but clearly valued Quackity’s looks and his support as an ally against Pogtopia so he never fully rejected Quackity’s advances

this might not seem like too big of a deal considering the other things that happened between them, but i think it shows part of the nature of their relationship. there is a lot of miscommunication and, on Schlatt’s end, manipulation of emotions. love is a strong motivator for loyalty and Schlatt is a smart guy who would know how to use that to his advantage

but that isn't to say that Schlatt didn't ever care about Quackity!

Schlatt is a complicated guy and figuring out when he's actually being genuine can be pretty difficult. but i think there are some moments that point to Schlatt genuinely caring about Quackity

when he was alive, Schlatt was pretty paranoid. not as paranoid as Wilbur, but certainly up there. but there were never any times where he truly questioned Quackity’s loyalties after his first day as president. Schlatt also seemed truly upset that Quackity betrayed him, bringing up their status as partners in crime while ranting about how much it hurt him and singling Quackity out while talking about how he had been abandoned during his time of need

Schlatt also spent a lot of time sulking after Quackity betrayed him and whining to Ponk about needing a new bitch. this is in contrast to how angry he was after Tubbo betrayed him- both during and after the execution

there is also the situation with the Big Man Gym

after being dead for a while, Schlatt contacted Quackity despite them leaving off on bad terms and asked for him to visit him in his cave gym. when Quackity showed up, Schlatt talked about how he valued their relationship and the good times they had together. tho this can easily be seen as emotional manipulation, Schlatt’s a lot smarter than he seems and- if he doesnt have memory issues due to being a ghost- would know that Quackity’s opinion of him was in the dump at the time of his death and most likely wouldn't have improved since then. Fundy has a higher opinion of Schlatt than Quackity does and is someone who obviously craves validation. but Schlatt went to Quackity first anyway and trusted him to help revive him

i think that this is all good evidence that points towards Schlatt truly caring about Quackity as much as someone like Schlatt can care about anyone- or at least valuing him as a companion

i also think that it is pretty common knowledge that Quackity cared about Schlatt- and possibly still does- but i will go over a bit of evidence that i haven’t already mentioned before we move on to the next part

Quackity tried multiple times to impress Schlatt (like when he lied about knowing how to play chess), would attempt to help Schlatt when he was drowning in water, sadly said that they could have had something together while Schlatt was dying in the caravan, and implied that he wouldn’t have left if Schlatt hadn’t taken down the white house. Quackity also willingly went to the Big Man Gym after being summoned there by Schlatt and wanted to revive him long before the revive book became part of the story

part 2: what made it fall apart?

everything i've said so far has been pretty interesting (hopefully) but it doesn't really answer the original question: what went wrong to turn Schlatt and Quackity’s mainly positive partnership sour?

well it comes down to two things in my opinion: their incompatible desires for political power and Schlatt’s deteriorating mental state

Quackity wanted political power from the beginning and wasn't afraid to be open about his desires. he pooled his votes with Schlatt because Schlatt offered him the position of vice president, something Wilbur and Tommy weren’t willing to give to him. tho Quackity obviously cared about L’Manburg and wanted to see good things for it, he also desired power and was willing to team up with someone he didn't fully agree with to get said power

at 32:40 in this video, Quackity talks about how in politics everyone uses everyone so it's alright if Schlatt is using him. he then talks about how he doesn't want to be a man with no power and how he understands that Schlatt’s main goal is also gaining/keeping power. Quackity also shows a bit of his naughty evil side by saying if he overthrows Schlatt then the fun ends too early!

(side note: these two are pretty evenly matched in intelligence and manipulativeness, i love it!)

it's a bit of a fandom misconception that Quackity was a love sick yes man during the Manburg era. tho Quackity did want to please Schlatt and was in love with him, he didn't shy away from standing up to or disagreeing with Schlatt when he believed it was needed

at around 26:12 of this video, Quackity and Schlatt meet together in private and Quackity tells Schlatt off for playing down his role in the power structure of Manburg. since this was very early in Schlatt’s reign, Quackity shows no fear towards him and confidently tells him not to treat him like that

Quackity also broke Niki out of jail after regretting letting her be put there in the first place, tried to convince Schlatt to not execute Tubbo, jumped in front of Fundy when Schlatt tried to attack him, tried to stop Schlatt from tearing down buildings, and attempted to protect the white house he built from being destroyed by Schlatt. these are not behaviors of a pure yes man but of someone who, despite fear, has the confidence to speak up for himself even when disrespected by someone in authority

Quackity has always been someone who wanted power and someone who was never a yes man to authority. this contradicts with how Schlatt believed Quackity should act as vice president. in Schlatt’s opinion, Quackity’s one job is to sit around looking pretty while Schlatt does all of the important things and holds all of the power. Schlatt was a big fan of promoting people to worthless positions of authority and its pretty obvious that he considered vice president to be similar to the fake positions he gave Fundy and Tubbo

in the end, this was a big part of what destroyed their relationship. like it or not, Quackity’s a power hungry guy and always has been. he didn't like that Schlatt constantly shoved him aside and refused to listen to him

now onto the nasty bit...Schlatt’s mental state

cw for mentions of alcoholism, mental deterioration, and abusive behavior

before i say anything more, i just want to say that i don't think having issues with alcoholism makes someone a bad person. i personally have some issues with such things so it would be pretty stupid of me to say being an alcoholic makes you a bad person. alcoholism does negatively affect your cognitive functions tho and, combined with other health issues, can cause some of the very serious mental problems that Schlatt clearly struggles with

throughout the Manburg era, Schlatt’s mental state rapidly deteriorated. he went from a pretty normal- if eccentric- guy who had a drinking problem, to someone who was delirious most of the time. it's a sharp and noticeable decline that caused a lot of pain for Quackity due to Schlatt often taking his excess aggression out on him by yelling at him and/or belittling him. tho Schlatt often belittled Quackity before he went fully off of the deep end, it was never as aggressive as it was when he was in this delirious state of mind

it was during one of Schlatt’s most aggressive and delirious moments that he tore down the white house despite Quackity’s protests. as we all know, this caused Quackity to snap and kill Schlatt (it's more complicated than that but we will get back to that). as mentioned previously, Quackity implied that he would have stayed with Schlatt if the white house hadn’t been destroyed

in my opinion, these two things combined are the biggest reasons why Quackity and Schlatt’s relationship fell apart. their differing desires for power were not compatible and Schlatt’s awful behavior while his mental state declined caused a rift between them that couldn't be fixed

part 3: how toxic was it really?

cw for emotional and physical abuse

as i said all the way back in part one, Quackity and Schlatt’s relationship was not healthy. i have provided many examples in the other two parts that shine a light onto why it wasn't healthy, but i didn't show the entire picture

there are many moments that show exactly how Schlatt treated Quackity when he was acting at his worst and none of them are pretty. tho Schlatt was never truly aggressive with his insults until he started to go off of the deep end, that doesn't mean that what he said wasn't negatively affecting Quackity

Schlatt would belittle, insult, and mock Quackity for his appearance not being up to his standards, for his opinions, and for being emotional in ways that Schlatt disapproved of like crying. tho Schlatt would often brush off Quackity’s reactions towards this cruel behavior, it's very clear that Schlatt’s treatment of him has stuck with Quackity in many ways

Quackity is very sensitive about his appearance and it seems to be because of how badly Schlatt hurt his self esteem during their time together. Schlatt tied Quackity’s worth to his appearance and then would claim he wasn't meeting his standards of attractiveness. we can tell that this has stuck with Quackity because of his sensitivity towards people bringing up the scar on his face (something that greatly alters his physical appearance) and he still reacts very badly when Schlatt calls him the mocking nickname flatty patty

speaking of flatty patty- that stupid insult shockingly has a lot of weight in Quackity’s relationship with Schlatt. tho its something the audience is meant to laugh at, the nickname also shows just how little Schlatt respects Quackity because he's constantly throwing it around just to make Quackity upset. Schlatt’s last words are flatty patty all because he wanted to get in one last dig at his ex and ruin Quackity’s day even further

Schlatt tends to do a lot of things that are intended to make Quackity upset. tearing down the room Quackity made for him in the white house is the biggest example of this- especially since Schlatt mentions how it will upset Quackity while he does it. you can see this moment at around 19:10 of this video

and now let's get into the elephant in the room when it comes to these two: Quackity was scared of Schlatt. tho we never really see Schlatt hit or attack Quackity physically outside of their confrontation at the white house or their confrontation in the caravan, these clips imply that Quackity was at the very least scared of Schlatt physically harming him in some way

as for actually physically harming him, Schlatt hits Quackity multiple times with a pickaxe and with his fists during their white house fight. Quackity hits Schlatt a couple times too, tho these are all primarily defensive blows since he is trying to protect himself and his property. he also chases after Quackity with a bow after Quackity’s plan to trick him into signing Manburg over to the Pogtopians fails and hits him multiple times during the caravan confrontation

all of this evidence shows that Schlatt was an abusive (or at least toxic) partner towards Quackity and someone who greatly affected him in many ways

tho Quackity did a few questionable things throughout his relationship with Schlatt (such as trying to get Schlatt to have sex with him despite Schlatt not being interested as shown in the later half of this video) and did some downright morally wrong things during his time as vice president of Manburg, no one deserves the pain of an abusive relationship- even a person who has done bad things

as a brief side note before we move on because i know people will bring it up if i skip over it, Quackity did- and most likely still does- want to literally possess Glatt. he brought up reviving Schlatt and using him as a political pawn after Schlatt’s funeral and during their conversation at the Big Man Gym Quackity talked about owning Glatt and having him work at Las Nevadas with no pay

this is unsettling behavior to say the least but this essay isnt about the aftermath of their relationship so much as it is about their relationship when it was actually happening. maybe i will make another post talking more about how Quackity’s relationship with Schlatt affected him even after Schlatt’s death and/or about Quackity’s relationship with Glatt

part 4: final thoughts

i’m not exactly sure why the nuances in Schlatt and Quackity’s relationship get lost when it comes to the fandom, but it’s pretty disappointing to see. hopefully this essay can help people take a closer look at canon and maybe even help them find something interesting that they’d want to explore!

tho the point of this essay is to clear up any misconceptions and hopefully add some nuance to the conversations surrounding Schlatt and Quackity’s relationship, i also wrote it in hopes of showing people how fascinating these two partners in crime were back in the Manburg days. i didn’t cover everything but i think i did a pretty good job for my first analysis post in the dsmp fandom

also since you read to the end, i must say thank you! it really does means a lot to me that you did. i hope you enjoyed and maybe even learned something. this post can be used as a resource if anyone wants to use it as such

here’s a tiny devil Quackity for your troubles <3

#quackity #jschlatt #manburg #dream smp analysis #dsmp analysis #posts by me #this was really fun to make!! i worry it wont show up in tags tho bc of how many links there are in it #so pls reblog!! if you read it and liked it that is haha #meta by me

395 notes · View notes

elsewhereuniversity · 3 years

Text

Why You Should Wear Boots after Picking a Major You Didn’t Want

A university is a place where dreams are thrown away.

Such is the case far too often. It remains Real even between the railroad, highway and train tracks. Even there, people interrogate themselves: ‘This is your dream, but is it realistic? How much is the starting salary? Look at your classmates, elegantly breezing over what you clawed through, tooth and nail. Look at your competitors––’

So many choose to drown their dreams themselves… even though, at Elsewhere University, the dead do not rest quietly. The Wild Hunt is proof of that. Yes, that Wild Hunt, which rides across campus when the fog rolls in. We all know the versions in which they hunt for students unlucky (or unbelieving) enough to be outside when the hounds begin baying. Stay inside, stay quiet, and you’ll be all the better for it, if they ignore you.

What about the other versions, though? What about the versions in which it is best to open your windows and howl back? There are tales like that, too––

Sometimes, those brave enough to shout along with the Wild Hunt will be rewarded with a share of prey or gold. Those kind enough to repair a lost hunter’s sled soon discover this to be the right choice, for upon closer inspection, the hounds are not just hounds. Their bones are laden heavy with wrath.

And sometimes, villagers tell tales of a cloaked rider on a white horse. Horseshoes spark against the night breeze. He will ask you to play an impossible game of tug-of-war. If you are wise, you will tie the other end of the rope to a sturdy oak. The leader of the Hunt likes clever little things. He might even drop a reward in your boot.

Perhaps this is why you see students wearing boots for a while after they declare their majors. Even Magenta (who got her name from always wearing high-heeled loafers of that particular shade) and Ma-Boi-Blanche (who has 17 pairs of white sneakers) wore boots back then. Rumor has it, according to a friend of a roommate of a Forbidden Major, that this footwear will help you abandon your misery.

When the Wild Hunt rides as a group, they come to condemn. The RAs are not wrong in telling you to run for safety when the fog descends.

On the other hand, when the leader of the Hunt appears alone, he comes to test. In this more benign (but not safe, never safe) form, 4% meet a bedraggled man, 2% a king of old, 3% a specimen of demon (the Christian subspecies), 6% a harlequin, and 5% a sledder with a thick Mecklenburg accent.

84% of those who have survived the encounter say that the leader of the Hunt wears a cloak and a wide hat that partially hides his eyes (one of which is duller than the other). He gallops in on a splendid white horse.

95% of those who survived the encounter were wearing boots (one of them was wearing spatterdashes over court shoes, but eh, close enough).

100% of the survivors say that you must be ready to be tested. Be kind, clever, daring. If you are all that––and wary, wise, lucky too––the leader of the Hunt will let you go and stuff something in your boot. A post-it, on which is written the major that they chose, yet hated with every fibre of their being.

Now, put the boot back on and walk. It may be a bit awkward to walk around, what with the paper writhing under your feet, but do so anyway. Every student who has tried it reports that when they got back to their dorms, the paper had vanished from beneath their soles. In its place, they had gained a floating sensation, grafted in their bones.

By the end of the year, Ma-Boi-Blanche and Professor Redd were chattering away like old friends. The Professor had to admit that his student wasn’t very good at dissections, but there was an unmistakable passion for anatomy in his eyes, and he would improve soon. (Very soon, especially with Professor Redd’s talent of acquiring practice bodies, his jaunty hat growing redder with every new specimen.)

On the other side of campus, the law majors learned to listen for the click-clack of high-heeled loafers. Woe betide the unlucky people who faced off against Magenta, who suddenly threw herself into mock trials with gusto. Her opponents gained a Pavlovian fear response to seeing any shade of pink.

This did not go ignored. The Involved went up to the two, in order to warn them.

“The Gentry do not offer things for free,” they said. “And intelligence isn’t cheap. What in Morganwode did you pay?”

To which the ones who met the Huntsman merely laughed, because they weren’t any smarter. The only difference was that now, they were interested in the subjects they found so odious before.

In the old tales, a satisfied rider of the Wild Hunt will reward a human with meat. The person will walk back home in the dark, one shoe on and one shoe off, the boot growing heavier with every step. Once home, they will see that the raw, bloody meat has transformed into gold.

There are a few who still receive this, not always in the payment of gold, but in blessings. (Childe House’s oldest RA is one of them, which explains why the once-every-305-days evacuation has a 100% success rate, even when half a dozen residents don’t understand what a “mandatory house meeting” or a “fire drill” is.)

Which begs the question: why does the leader of the Hunt help so many?

Rewards are meant to be given to the exceptional few. Yet the unhappy are not part of these few. Given the number of students with newfound rapture in their eyes, one does not need to be exceptionally kind, clever, or daring to transfer their passions. Just wary, wise, and lucky are enough.

When asked, the leader of the Wild Hunt proclaimed that such a spell is child’s play. We’ve already provided the ingredients: two subjects and a passion. The price is low because all he needs to do is to sever the interest from one subject, then attach it to another. Simple work, he said. He would never think of charging so much for something he could do before breakfast. It is not befitting a warrior. Think of it as a favour from a father to his children, he said, then laughs as if there is a joke here that no one else understands.

There are more people who understand than he might think, for the more competent members of the Forbidden Major have another theory. Anyone with passing knowledge of folklore would be able to recognize this person at a glance, they say (quietly, and never to the Huntsman’s face). He is the amalgamation of ghost, fae and old god.

The first rider of the Wild Hunt might be, depending on the amount of fertilizer on the campus lawn and the moon phase, the oldest warrior poet. There are less battlefields for him to watch over now, but still he is song and madness. Still, he is overcome with fury when he sees yet another soldier buckle before the fight has begun.

This child would have made a fine skald. That child could have become a brilliant shield-maiden. This one had the makings of a king, yet they chose to push these futures away, he said through clenched teeth. These children began to think there was nothing left. They started to look at the pond and that single eighth-floor window which could open all the way.

This is not a battlefield, but… to give up before the horn sounds, under his watch?

Unforgivable, he said, with an unblinking smile, all teeth and lone glittering eye. To despair is to slander my hundred names.

So the leader of the Hunt casts a few spells here, a little trickery there, and coaxes the bright frenzy back in their eyes, or so the Forbidden Majors whisper. The price is only low because of who and why he is. He helps them so they can die more valiantly, another day.

Think of it as a favour from a father to his children, he says, then laughs as if there is a joke here that no one else understands. This is despite the fact that half the Forbidden Majors and a fifth of the Literature Majors know who he is.

(Not that they would reveal that, ever. The all-father’s wrath is a terrible thing.)

Addendum:

Statistics unavailable for those who encountered the Wild Hunt’s leader alone, while not wearing boots. Mythological references, as well as the Sword-House valet’s intuition, imply it is better not to know.

[Author’s Note]

I did not intend “Why You Should Wear Boots after Picking a Major You Didn’t Want” to be so long. Do pardon me.

There is much debate over the identity of the Wild Hunt’s leader. My personal favourite theory is that the leader is Odin, or some variant of him, which this submission is based on. Still, I couldn’t resist hinting at the others:

“Bedraggled man” = multiple stories, in which the Hunt’s leader is any hunter who preferred hunting to going to church, or else slandered a certain god

“King of old” = Arawn

“Harlequin” = in Vitalis’ Ecclesiastical History Vol. 2 (1140), Hellequin/Herlequin is the herald of a Wild- Hunt-esque procession of tortured souls. There is also King Herla.

“Sledder with a thick Mecklenburg accent” = Frau Gauden

-Louis

#Why You Should Wear Boots after Picking a Major You Didn’t Want #stories #long post #the wild hunt #odin #louis #thanks for the note on tags! was really helpful!#very vague mention of #suicidal ideation #loved this!

264 notes · View notes

mrsmaybank · 3 years

Text

My Little Sun - Reid x Reader

“Ridiculously perfect.” I held her tighter as she looked up at me and our eyes locked, “I’ve fallen ridiculously in love with you.” “So my evil plan worked then?” She chirped.

CONTENT WARNINGS: AGE GAP, VIOLENCE, KIDNAPPING, PREGNANCY, STALKING, LANGUAGE probably the misuse of a Russian word IF THERES MORE LMK

A/N: Okay, let me be honest rq this idea lowk scared me but the words really just fell out of my brain really easily so, yk fuck it whatever. ANYWAY, if you like, please let me know!

pt 2, pt 3 “I love you Spencer.” The words immediately melted me.

“I know so many things.” She gave me an unapproving look.

“I don’t mean to sound cocky, but I do! Now for once in your life, listen to me.” She nodded her head in concession.

“I’ve just read more, I’ve written more, I’ve discovered and studied more than the average person. I could tell you a little bit about anything with one hundred percent certainty. I could--and want--to tell you the names of all the stars, I could recite verbatim the entirety of Prometheus Bound by Aeschylus or Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, which you know, speaking of I will ‘cause I still can’t believe you haven’t read it,” Her smile flattened into a straight line, and I laughed. “Orrr, I could also tell you something simple, like why we get the hiccups.” I shook my head.

“Regardless, I know so many things and I’m rarely taken by surprise because of it. Everything in life is a pattern of change, and as a human, we will always adjust and adapt to whatever situation we are in. For better or worse, we don’t feel the same thing for very long. This is why an addict takes a couple more every time, a sadist hits his second victim harder than the first, they’re searching for the high of the first time, and it will never come.”

She nodded in understanding,

“I know this is true, it’s factual, and yet every time I look at you it feels like the first. You’ve broken the laws of human psychology.”

“First time you saw me was at a gas station Spencer.”

“No. The first time I looked at you after I knew I loved you.”

“Where were we?”

“My car. You were dancing. You looked ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously sexy? You mean?” She smiled.

“Ridiculously perfect.” I held her tighter as she looked up at me and our eyes locked, “I’ve fallen ridiculously in love with you.”

“So my evil plan worked then?” She chirped.

“It did indeed. You’ve become my solnyshko moyo.”

“Tell me that’s Russian dirty talk.” She said with a grin.

“It’s better. It’s a term of endearment you’ve become the epitome of.”

“And what’s that Dr. Reid?” she giggled.

“My little sun. You’ve become my little sun. Following me around and bringing light and warmth.” She snuggled herself impossibly closer into my chest, wrapping one of her legs over mine.

“Except for your feet!” I shrieked at her freezing toes meeting mine.

“They’re not that cold you big baby!” she shouted.

I laughed and kissed her sweetly, “I am not the baby here.” I said.

“Please,” she started until I interrupted her with a kiss, “If you’re not the baby,” I kissed her again, “That implies I’M the baby,” Kiss, “And I’m not a” Kiss.

“Shush baby.” I told her, but like always, she didn’t listen, instead sitting up to straddle me. My appreciation for her beauty was like how a prisoner appreciates freedom, and yet it was miniscule into what I found in her character. It blew my mind that a girl so perfect existed.

“Rarely do great virtue and beauty dwell together. Francesco Petrarch.” I started, my hands making their way onto her hips, “That makes you a rarity.”

“You’re spoiling me with nice words today Spencer.” “You’ve spoiled me. My frontal lobe is spoiled milk.” She laughed, wondering how I was going to manage to make this one romantic.

“That’s the part of the brain responsible for sensibility and logical thinking, and you, little girl, have positively ruined it. You make me stupid.”

“I ruined the genius Dr. Reid with the 187 IQ? Makes sense. I’m like, way smarter.”

“You are. So, so much smarter.”

“I want that in writing.” she poked my chest.

I pulled her down and kissed her forehead to whisper in her ear. “Not a chance.”

She pushed herself away and rolled her eyes at me like a bratty child does her nanny, and I continued, “ You’re smarter, but I’m more educated. I have more doctorates than you have years in university.”

“Whatever…”

I brushed the hair away from her perfect face, “You tired baby?”

She sighed and laid down, splaying herself on my chest, laying on me like I was the duvet. “Very.”

I held her impossibly close, breathing in her scent and counting every time her heart thumped, her bpm said she was relaxed. Oh god, I wanted her like this forever. Relaxed in my arms, where nothing could touch us but each other.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Must you work?” I sent the message to Spencer as I rolled over to his side of the bed in anticipation. I breathed in heavy, liking the way the pillow smelled like his laundry.

“Unfortunately.” he responded. “Think you’ll be home this weekend?”

“It’s not looking like it, little one. I’m sorry.”

I didn’t reply. I was too sad to reply. I knew it’d make him feel guilty, which I didn’t want to do, cause like, his job and saving people and shit is important. But, it still wasn’t fair! At all. There was something very important I had to tell him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Total darkness, and then way too much light. My head hurt and I couldn’t move. I was handcuffed to a wooden chair. There were chains around my torso and ankles. The room was a medical sort of bright. It smelled like bleach and rotting fruit. The walls were dilapidated, seeming to be made of tiles that were once white, but have turned yellow.

What the FUCK?

“Hello!” I shouted. My voice was so coarse it hurt. Shit. My head pulsed so badly it practically hurt to think, but I still racked my brain.

Where am I?

How’d I get here?

Why am I here?

I woke up again. Fuck, why can’t I think? Why can’t I do anything?

“Hey, y/n.” A woman’s voice. A very stoic, cold, sounding female voice.

I’m not alone. Thank god, oh my god, I’m not alone.

With the little strength I had, I lifted my head to see her. She wasn’t what I thought. She was alright, she wasn’t tied. She did this to me?

She took a sip from her silver flask, “Do you know who I am?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Typical.” She stood up and grabbed me by the hair, “You fucking disgust me.” Like, she said, she threw my hair away like it disgusted her.

She sat back down on the bench in front of the chair I was chained to, “My name is Brook Austen. I was a professor at Georgetown last year. Taught a couple seminars at your school, that little university you go to, the students there were nothing like mine. Not nearly as intelligent, but as expected, Georgetown is much more prestigious, obviously.”

I was confused, and she knew, but did not care.

“You’re not the brightest, y/n. Only slightly above average high school grades, strikingly mediocre academic performance now.”

Where the hell is she going with this?

“And you know it doesn’t surprise me, per say, because every man on this goddamn planet is a piece of fucking shit! But I thought that, maybe, just maybe, Spencer was different.”

She grimaced, “I thought he’d want more than just a pretty face! ‘Cause you might be prettier y/n, but I’m smarter.” Her words were laced with utter hatred.

Her demeanor changed, and it almost started to seem like she was talking to herself. “I'm older. I’m more successful. I’m fucking better.”

She approached me again, grabbing my face so I was looking her in those scarily light green eyes, and she wrapped her hands around my throat. “I’m fucking better then you! Better, better, better!” Every time she said better she shook my neck and gripped tighter so I couldn’t breathe.

“Stop! Please! Please stop!” I shouted, “I’m-I’m pregnant!”

She began to break down, “You’re pregnant?” A maniacal chuckle left her throat, “You’re pregnant?”

“Is it Spencer’s?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Wow.” She laughed once more, “Fucking wow.”

“How could Spencer choose this!? You’re nothing like him. You are a pathetic fucking college student. A fucking daddy issue ridden slut! I’m a celebrated academic, just like him!” Tears began to slip from her eyes, “How could he not choose me?”

This woman is NOT well in the head.

“You--you like Spencer?” I asked.

“You don’t get to ask the fuckin’ questions here.” She pulled a knife out of her pocket and held it to the tip of my chin, “I do. So you’re gonna answer them.” Or, she started manically laughing, “I’ll kill you.” She swallowed, “And your baby.”

I screamed at those words, “No,” I sobbed, “NO!”

I turned my head away so I didn’t have to look at the woman in front of me, there was a timed red dot blinking. A camera.

“Is that-- is that a camera?”

She nodded, “I want Spencer to see you and his child die.”

“He….No! No, please, No!” I choked on a sob and she smiled.

“He doesn’t know.” She paced, “He doesn’t even fucking know!”

She waltzed over to the camera and brought it closer to us, “Hey Spencer.” She began waving, “Hey Penelope. Aaron. Derek. Jennifer. Emily.”

Her demeanor changed once more, into that of a cheerleader of all things, “So, quick recap.” Brook pursed her lips, “Spencer your twenty three year old fucktoy is pregnant. Congrats!”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N was two things I didn’t know she was this morning: In serious danger, and the mother of my expected child. I felt frozen in trepidation.

We all watched in horror as Brook greeted us. All by first name. She knew exactly what she was doing and it freaked me out even more.

“Reid, you need to step out.” Hotch grabbed my shoulder, “Now.”

I was sick with fear and ill with rage. I sat down because I could feel my knees go weak. Hotch started again, “We know who she is. We will find her. Y/N will be alright.” He paused, “So will the baby.”

I replayed the events of the live footage in my head, her screams of pain and terror, her trembles and confusion. I’d failed her. I’d failed her and now I knew I’d also failed our child.

JJ sat down next to me, “Spencer, when did you meet Brook?”

“I uh,” I wiped my face, “A year and four months ago. I did uh, I taught uh, I taught a string of seminars at Georgetown. It was biweekly. Her office was next to mine. We spoke for the first time when she offered me a coffee.”

“What did you say?”

“What do you think I said?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I said yeah, I fucking like coffee.” I felt instantaneously guilty for cursing, and especially at JJ but I was too frazzled for it to last long enough to apologize.

“I know Spence, I’m sorry. Just keep going.”

“Then, the next week, we got lunch together.”

“Was it, you know, friendly?”

“What are you implying Jennifer?” I snapped.

“No Spence, we just need to know. You know that.”

“It was-- it was just lunch. A very normal colleague to colleague lunch. We talked about the school’s history. And uh, where we grew up. It was small talk.”

“Ok, was this the last time you spoke to her?”

“No. There was one more time. Y/N was there.”

“Tell me about it Spence.” She grabbed my hand,

I breathed out, “It was the next week I taught after lunch. About two hours before my class. I was lesson planning, and Y/N was doing homework on my desk. She came in. She asked if I wanted to go get lunch. She saw y/n and--Fuck.”

“What Spence? What?”

“She asked me who she was, but it was like, she didn’t want y/n to know she was asking. She thought she was…”

“She thought she was what?”

“A student.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“The truth. That she was my girlfriend.”

“Did you see her anywhere else after that?”

“No. She never came by my office again. When I would see her by chance, she would scurry away. It was strange.”

“Think really hard Spence. Did you ever see her again after you stopped teaching at Georgetown.”

I racked my brain, “Yeah. I did. It was two months ago. Three days after I proposed to y/n. She was getting a coffee at this coffee shop by y/n’s school.. I was bringing her some lunch”

“Spencer she's been stalking you. Your proposal was the stressor.”

“But--I’m a profiler. I would’ve noticed.” I stood up with a realization. “What Spence?” JJ asked, standing up as well to look at me.

“She’s been stalking her, not me. She knew I was a part of the BAU, she knew I would’ve noticed.”

“I’ll tell the team.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N2: If this doesn’t totally flop, I’ll write PT 2, that elaborates on the reader’s and Spencer’s relationship. I think through flashbacks from both Y/N and Spencer would be a cool way to explore their relationship and of course the whole reader being kidnapped thing plot could develop. Again, if you enjoyed this pls let me know!!

496 notes · View notes

averykedavra · 4 years

Text

Treat Me Like Just Another Stranger

Why do I always end up posting fics at this exact time? Anyway, have some Anxceit post-FWSA because I’m still not done overanalyzing the repercussions of this episode. I also decided to combine this with a Whumptober prompt--I know, I know, it’s mid-October. Better late than never? I’m doing a different AU for each day, so you might see a few more of these prompts in the future!

(Title is from Ignorance by Paramore! You can find this fic on Ao3 here.)

Whumptober Day 12: I think I’ve broken something. (Broken Trust)

Word count: 5719

Pairing: platonic Anxceit

Warnings: self-deprecation, arguing, mentions of manipulation, slightly unreliable narrator, hurt no comfort

Janus liked to play chess.

Of course, the problem was that he had no one to play it with. Patton didn’t know the difference between a king and a bishop. Roman would hardly deign to stoop so low and associate with a villain like him. Logan, despite being skilled, never had enough time for a lengthy game. Remus tried to eat the chess pieces. And Virgil, of course, wanted nothing to do with him.

So Janus played against himself. He pulled out two extra hands, set them across the table from him, and tried to outwit himself. It was always strange, because he could see exactly what he would do next, and had to nonetheless back himself into a corner.

All the other sides were such terrible liars, though, that he’d be able to see their next move regardless. Chess was no fun when the opponent didn’t bother to hide anything.

However, there was something refreshing about playing against himself. No cheats, no tricks, no layered teases to twist the truth into something unrecognizable. It was relaxing and dull and the perfect distraction on long, hot afternoons when Deceit was, once again, shunted to the sidelines.

Janus enjoyed it. Or perhaps he just told himself that, to avoid the sting of playing chess against himself, perfecting strategies he could never use.

It was hard to tell, sometimes, when he was being honest with himself.

On this particular afternoon, Janus had been enjoying feeding Thomas small lies, sweet and tantalizing like dewdrop fruits, leading him astray just a bit so Roman and Virgil could get angry. It was entertaining to mess with them. There was no real harm he could do, no real reason for the lies that edged on desperate--but Janus enjoyed stretching his muscles from time to time. A snake stirring in the depths of Thomas’ mind, lithe and slow and languid, knocking over his own queen.

It did sting, a bit, at how vehement Virgil and Roman were. Janus was only trying to help! What, was Thomas supposed to be honest? “Oh, yes, I was simply monologuing my mental breakdown with the assistance of two invisible aspects of my personality.” Janus was looking out for Thomas, and he had to admit, he was just a bit tired of them shutting down every singular white lie.

Not that he hadn’t expected it. But still.

Janus sighed and captured his own castle.

Eventually, he’d pulled back. He wasn’t going to muscle for a tiny slot in Thomas’ day, and there were smarter ways to get people to do what you wanted, anyway.

Thomas was honest.

Thomas got the guy--yay, good for him, congratulations. Patton was probably throwing a party. Frankly, Janus wished Thomas had gone for someone a little more endorsed in the pecuniary department--or perhaps someone that could forward Thomas’ career. Still, this Nico was cute enough, and Thomas deserved a boy toy after everything he’d been through. Janus didn’t deny him that.

Except he could already see the path ahead of him. The moves every other Side would make, crossing the board and lining up in defense. Roman had said it himself--how could it be true love if the relationship wasn’t based on truth?

Very easily, Janus had almost popped up to tell him. Hadn’t he seen Aladdin? Or Beauty and the Beast? People lied to each other all the time. It was useless getting in a twist about it.

Of course, he hadn’t said that. He didn’t want to ruin Thomas’ moment by getting in yet another fight with his ego. He’d just stewed in silence, staring pointedly at his chessboard and flipping a middle finger in the general direction of Roman’s room.

Unfortunately Roman had summed up the general consensus. If Thomas wanted success in this relationship, he’d have to be honest and up-front about everything. Which, sure, whatever, communication was important or something. But not lying at all? This was some new boyfriend to drool over, not an excuse for Thomas to go cold turkey on lying!

It’d be just the excuse everyone needed, though, to shove Janus back into the dark depths of the Dark Side.

Ugh. Acceptance, like he’d feared, had been a token gesture. He’d given away his allegiance, his position, his name--and it had all been for nothing. He should have known.

Janus took his own bishop, palming it in one gloved hand and resting it on the edge of the mahogany table. The captured pieces were lined up neatly in shades of black and white marble, biggest to smallest. He’d already wiped through half of the board, partly because he kept purposely slipping up to make it more interesting.

He sighed again, for no reason in particular, other than he felt he deserved to throw even a miniscule tantrum about the whole thing. Maybe he was being pessimistic--maybe Thomas would listen to him more, after all. Thomas had lied several times without even thinking. The words had bubbled up, easier than breathing, sweet and sour and slipping from his lips. Janus had never felt as much power as he had these last few weeks. Little lies kept him going, powered him up for the bigger ones. And Thomas was indulging himself.

A beautiful thing, and yet, Janus knew better than to hope.

He was about to corner his own king. If he wanted this game to keep going, he should send the pawn out to front and sacrifice it.

Janus inched his king to the left instead.

Move, move, move.

Checkmate.

He fell back into his armchair with a sigh and tipped over the king. It hit the board with a thud and lay there in defeat. Game finished. And there was no glory in winning, because he’d lost as well, and the whole thing was nothing more than a performance.

Janus swept the rest of the pieces off the board, making a small pile in one corner. Then he set them back up again. He still had a few hours until dinner, and what else did he have to do--he was too itchy and energized for reading, and too stuck in his own head to socialize and argue with the other Sides.

Janus glanced at the plate of wrapped cookies on the nearby table. Patton’s handwriting peeked out at the top. He always wrote Janus with a little flourish on the s, like a snake. And a loop in the J, which made it look almost childish, glowing in blue and inviting him to have a taste.

Janus turned away from the cookies and pushed a pawn two spaces forward.

He missed playing with Virgil.

Something in Janus’ stomach curdled at the blatant truth, but he didn’t shy away from it--who would he be if he did that, if he allowed his own knowledge to become twisted like his words? Instead, he let the thought sit in the corner of his dim room, flickering under the lamps and humming in the silence. Maybe he should turn on the radio. Maybe he should water his plants. Maybe he should take a mid-day nap.

Janus left one of his pawns out for the taking, just so he could swipe it off with his bishop and get a fleeting spike of satisfaction.

Virgil was a terrible player. Virgil barely knew the moves, and he second-guessed himself so much he often undid a move on his next turn. And that made him the best to play against, because try as he might, Janus could never tell what Virgil would do next. If Virgil didn’t know what he was doing, neither did Janus.

Janus always won in the end, of course, but Virgil put up a fight every time.

Something creaked in the corner of his room. Maybe the furniture settling into position. Maybe not.

Janus allowed himself a little smile. Speak of the devil.

He waited for another creak. Instead, there was a shuffle, and a squeak of a door handle. Janus always left his door just a crack open, and that crack had drifted wide, showing a dim hallway and balls of shadows trembling in the cracks.

Janus pushed a piece forward before abandoning the game entirely with a swish of his hand. The pieces tumbled into their spot on the shelf. Janus leaned back. No more creaks, just silence--unnatural silence, the silence of someone trying too hard to be quiet.

“You know,” Janus said idly to nobody in particular, “you’ve always been terrible at sneaking around.”

A moment of silence echoed off the walls, and the door creaked the rest of the way open. Virgil was glaring at him, hands plunged deep in his hoodie, eyeshadow stark black against his cheeks.

“Deceit,” Virgil ground out, not taking a single step into the room.

“Anxiety,” Janus said in a lilting tone. “What brings you to my humble home?”

Virgil shifted in the doorway.

“Did I do something?” Janus batted his eyelashes in faux-innocence. “Why, I never! I do hope I haven’t been accused of anything criminal, dear Virgil.”

“You know exactly what you did,” Virgil said. Each word was biting and snapped-off at the end, like broken pieces of dark chocolate. The bitter kind. The kind nobody ate unless they had to.

Janus loved dark chocolate.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to enlighten me.” Janus folded his hands in his lap and nodded to an empty, overstuffed velvet chair. “Chat? I can get you some tea.”

“You actually think I’m gonna--” Virgil eyed the chair as if it had spikes growing out of the seat.

“Sit,” Janus said firmly, summoning a teapot with delicate daffodils etched on the side. He poured two cups of tea and dropped some sugar in Virgil’s, because Virgil hated sugar and Janus certainly wasn’t going to make this easy on him.

Virgil held out for a second longer before huffing and stomping over to the chair. He flopped in it with such force that Janus feared for the springs. He managed to slouch even further as Janus held out the teacup, taking it in one hand and sniffing curiously.

“It’s poisoned,” Janus said idly, taking a sip of his own. “You’ll be dead in three seconds if you drink it.”

Virgil groaned and slammed the cup onto the side table with such force that tea leaked out and stained the carpet. Janus gave the carpet a betrayed look and it fluffed itself up and became stainless.

“So,” Janus said after another few seconds of Virgil’s glaring, “care to tell me why you’re in such a tizzy? You look terrible, with those bags under your eyes--did you get enough sleep?”

“It’s eyeshadow,” Virgil growled. “You know that.”

“Hmm, I’m afraid not.” Janus took another sip of tea. “From my recollection, your eyeshadow was purple--”

“Yeah, unless I’m on edge.” Virgil’s mouth twisted in a smile. “Sorry I’m not at ease in your freaking evil lair.”

“You can leave,” Janus offered. “We don’t need to talk, I was busy--”

“Yeah, playing chess with yourself like a weirdo.” Virgil folded his arms. “And actually, yeah. We do need to talk.”

Janus raised one eyebrow. “Are you ever going to get to the point?”

“Nico.”

“Nico,” Janus repeated after a few seconds. “Is that your entire statement?”

“You know what happened today,” Virgil continued. “We had everything under control, and you almost ruined it.”

“Ruined it?” Janus pressed a gloved hand to his chest. “On the contrary, Virgil. Who was the one who got us out of trouble multiple times?”

“Me!”

“Oh, yes, you were being so helpful, dragging Thomas around and shoving him back and forth like you were playing pinball.”

“Ugh, can you--” Virgil clenched and unclenched his fists. “I was trying to stop you from messing everything up!”

Janus took a sip of tea and affected a blank expression. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yeah, sure.” Virgil waved a hand angrily. “You were making Thomas lie! Like, every other second! That whole mall trip was chock-full of lying and hiding and pretending and I’m sick of it! We had to talk Thomas out of starting a relationship under false pretenses!”

“So what if he did?” Janus asked, a bit of resentment boiling up in his stomach. “Unlike what our darling Prince says, a bit of deception isn’t the end of the world.”

“Of course you’d think that.” Virgil growled. “Nico’s wonderful. He’s cute and smart and amazing and if you ruin this--”

“Why would I?” Janus asked. “He seems a reasonable fellow, if average.”

“Because that’s what you do!” Virgil burst out. “You ruin everything! And I’m--I’m not gonna let you ruin this!”

Janus quickly smoothed his expression to hide the twist in his gut. “Ah, yes, my only goal--destroying Thomas utterly.”

“You might not mean to,” Virgil allowed, his expression sour and saying the exact opposite, “but you’re gonna. If you keep this up--all the excuses and the pretending--it’s not gonna last!”

“What a shame that would be,” Janus said. He poured himself more tea and stirred some honey into it. “It’s not like we’ve only known him for a day.”

“Yeah, point taken,” Virgil admitted. “I’m not saying he’s the love of Thomas’ life or anything. But--Roman thinks he is.”

There was a long, frozen silence that coiled in the corners of the room and made Janus’ heart squeeze uncomfortably. He stirred more honey into his tea and let Virgil’s words echo around, once, twice, three times.

Virgil’s words could echo more, if he wished. He could cut to the chase and make Janus leave Thomas alone. Virgil was powerful. How had he forgotten that? How had he contented himself to watering down his own contributions, wearing a new outfit and a new look and a new life, as if patches on his sleeve could patch over his identity? Virgil was powerful, and he’d given that up, for what?

Janus would never understand him. He never had.

Once upon a time, though, that hadn’t mattered. They didn’t need to understand each other, they just needed to be there.

There was no one else to be with, after all.

And now Virgil was here, settling for yet another argument instead of taking control. He was sabotaging himself. He was making the game last longer. They both knew each other’s finishing moves, so it was only fair to meet in the middle.

Fair. Life wasn’t fair, and Janus wasn’t fair, and Virgil wasn’t fair, despite his complexion. Patton hated that. Roman hated that. Thomas hated that. But there was no denying that sometimes, you lost a game. Sometimes, you lost more than that.

Sometimes, there was no way out of a conversation, and you just had to make the most of it.

“Roman,” Janus repeated, because why not? Why not speed to the heart of the matter? Get all the cards on the table, everything out in the open. Janus would know what to hide when he knew what was there.

“Roman,” Virgil echoed, his voice softening. “He’s--he’s so excited, Deceit. He finally gets...something. To prove he’s not--”

Virgil didn’t finish the sentence, but Janus could deduce the end well enough.

Not the evil twin.

It had been a low blow, even for Janus, the kind of move he never used. In the end, he didn’t want to win like that, at the expense of a good opponent. There was no fun in a game when the other person forfeited. There was no kindness in that kind of jab.

And he’d done it anyway, of course, because Janus couldn’t stop himself. He always had to win. He’d play against himself, again and again, and he’d win every time.

Lose every time, too, because that was just how it went.

“Don’t ruin this,” Virgil pleaded. “Don’t ruin it, or I swear, I’ll--I’ll--”

“What will you do?” Janus asked, curious for the answer despite himself.

“I’ll--” Virgil’s fist closed. “If I wanted, I could make Patton stay away from you.”

Something went sour in Janus’ mouth. The sweetness of the honey was suddenly cloying. He set his teacup down and pushed it away.

“A low blow,” Janus said idly, folding his hands in his lap. “Not very noble of you. In fact, dare I say it, that’s almost something I would do.”

“It’s for his own safety,” Virgil snapped back, haunches raising. “He doesn’t know who--what you are. You’re gonna hurt him, and he’s just falling for it.”

“Hmm, not giving your friend too much credit.” Janus smirked. “He’s allowed to make his own decisions.”

“Not when you’re around.” Virgil’s glare deepened. “I can’t trust anyone to do anything around you. You’ve got your fangs stuck in everyone, and they might not see it, but I do.”

“Oh, yes, you’re so smart, Virgil.” Janus clapped his hands. “Clearly when you’re the only one who distrusts me, you must be the only person in the right.”

“I’m not!” Virgil said, his voice pitching up. “Roman’s on my side, and Logan--and Thomas, kind of--”

“Sides, hmm?” Janus huffed. “So it’s black and white again. I shouldn’t have expected anything less.”

“You’re on your own side,” Virgil argued, and Janus heard his own words in that, what he’d told Virgil long ago. “Always have been. And I’m on mine. We picked sides, Deceit. There isn’t--there isn’t any turning back.”

“But you’re all about evolution, aren’t you?” Janus lolled his head to the side and smirked again. “Change and growth. Are you saying that--gasp--they’re meaningless?”

“It’s different,” Virgil protested.

“How so?”

“At least I’m not--” Virgil waved his hands angrily. “You hurt Roman, were a jerk to Patton, practically kidnapped Logan, and tried to sabotage Thomas’ chance at a boyfriend! At least I’m trying!”

“You’re definitely trying,” Janus agreed, rolling his eyes. “That’s why you came in here to rant on my behalf and haven’t listened to a single thing I’ve said.”

“I can’t trust you to tell the truth.”

“Then let me say something,” Janus said, an edge growing in his voice. “You aren’t the only one who has opinions, and you certainly aren’t the only one who’s allowed to have a voice.”

Virgil’s lip curled in something that was almost a sneer. “I’m done listening to you.”

“Too bad.” Janus raised a hand. “I could force you to listen to me, or you could do this the easy way and let me talk.”

Virgil held out for a second, before groaning and sinking further into the chair. “Fine.”

Janus nodded and gathered his thoughts. It wasn’t easy. They twisted through his mind and shuddered in the shadows and slipped through his fingers. Lie or truth or lie or half-truth or lie or lie or lie--

He could lose himself, if he chose, in this choice. He could think two moves ahead, three, four, cross and double-cross and double back and stall. Janus always had the option to play it safe, play it fair, play it by ear. And when he knew the world so well, kenw every tilt of the chessboard, it was easy to get swallowed up by every possible choice.

He could placate Virgil with kind words, and perhaps Virgil would listen, or perhaps he would get offended. He could force Virgil to leave, and perhaps Virgil would, and perhaps Virgil would shun him afterwards. He could apologize with all the sincerity necessary, and perhaps Virgil would smile, and perhaps his expression would shutter closed.

He could be honest.

And what did that mean?

How could he say anything more? What did he want from this? What did he expect, for Virgil to back down? There was too much bad blood, dripping from the teacups, staining the floor. Janus couldn’t erase history. He couldn’t scrub out the strongest of facts, the deepest of truths, that ran through his veins like fire, impossible to ignore.

Truth. Virgil was angry.

Truth. Virgil wanted him to leave Thomas alone.

Truth. Janus didn’t want to leave Thomas alone.

Truth. Thomas wanted Janus to leave Thomas alone.

No. Truth? Lie? Something in-between?

Not a full truth, or Janus would already be hidden in the depths of his mind. On some level, Thomas wanted Janus’ help. Maybe he didn’t want to want to. Maybe it was complicated.

Everything was complicated these days.

Yet another thing that Virgil and Roman failed to comprehend. Good and evil were meaningless in the end. None of it mattered. Everyone’s little squabbles would coil into nothingness and alliances would rise and fall. Nothing was perfect, nothing was constant, and nothing was permanent. There was no use throwing a snit about it.

Janus had told himself that ever since the day Virgil left.

And now Virgil was here again, and the truth was that Janus wanted to beg him to return.

Of course, here, he had to be selfless.

“I think you’re overreacting,” Janus said bluntly, and Virgil flinched. “This isn’t the end of the world. You know as well as I do that lying doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. If it did, well, you’d be--oh, is that what you’re saying?”

He expected Virgil to bristle. And Virgil did, for just a second, before his shoulders wilted.

“Yeah, kind of,” Virgil said, his mouth twisting in a bitter smirk and his hands fidgeting with the cuffs of his hoodie. “Kind of. Not...not really, huh?”

Janus raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?’

Virgil sunk another few inches into the chair. “You said it yourself, didn’t you? I’m not--everything I try to be.”

Janus swallowed. Something about seeing Virgil so beaten-down made his stomach turn.

“Of course you’re not,” he said, and his voice came out far too sincere. “No one is. There’s always something better we could be, right?”

Virgil chuckled. “Is that supposed to be reassuring?”

“No,” Janus reassured him.

“Great.” Virgil chewed on his lip. “Any more words of wisdom? Are you gonna, like, defend yourself?”

“No,” Janus admitted, letting out a long breath. “I won’t waste time groveling. I just wanted to say that--you’re going to hurt more people than yourself if you try to stop Thomas from lying.”

“More people than you, you mean?”

“I meant what I said.” Janus pulled at his gloves. “If you recall, such a black-and-white view of selflessness and selfishness always ends well.”

“So we can just...bend the truth whenever we see fit?” Virgil scoffed. “Dude, no. Even you don’t want that.”

“Who says I don’t?”

Virgil paused. “You don’t. That’d be boring, right?”

“Hmm.” Janus allowed himself a smirk. “You have a point.”

“And...you don’t like being in control all the way,” Virgil added, his voice dipping. “I remember. It’s only fun if the opponent has their own agenda.”

Janus’ smirk fell off his face despite himself.

“I...told Thomas it wouldn’t be fair to you,” Virgil almost whispered, his fingers twisted in his hoodie, “to do that. To make you the answer to all his problems. You like being in the shadows, you like having stuff be interested--you wouldn’t want to be the only guy between him and despair.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Janus snapped. He couldn’t help it. Things were drifting into unknown territory and his defenses were rising. Shields up, eyes cold, make his move without hesitation. “Or is it you we’re talking about?”

Virgil flinched, and his eyes hardened. “Not everything’s about me. Or--me and you.”

“I disagree,” Janus said, leaning forward. “It’s always been about us--you’re the one who always makes it about us.”

“Uh, what?” Virgil yelled. “Who was the one who was all I just meant your name earlier? Not me!”

“Because you refused to listen to me,” Janus fired back. “Forgive me for taking drastic steps to keep Thomas safe.”

“Ugh!” Virgil threw up his hands. “It’s always about Thomas with you!”

“You just said the opposite!”

“Look, I don’t know!” Virgil groaned. “I don’t know, okay? You win. I have no idea what’s true anymore and life is a lie, you happy?”

Janus gave Virgil a searching look. “If not everything is about us, and not everything’s about Thomas, what are things about?”

“I don’t know,” Virgil said.

“You’re lying.”

“It--” Virgil took a deep breath. “It’s about us, isn’t it?”

Janus bit back a smile. “Finally. Progress.”

“It’s about us, it’s--” Virgil swallowed. “Deceit.”

“Anxiety.”

“Don’t--” Virgil caught himself, seeming to realize how much of a hypocrite he was being. “It’s about us. We--we have to pick sides.”

“Do we?”

“No.” Virgil sighed. “We have to pick what the sides mean now.”

“Do go on,” Janus said, leaning back. “I’m listening.”

“Ugh, it’s like--” Virgil rubbed at the back of his neck. “It’s like everything’s changing. And you know I hate change. But like, it’s not gonna stop, and to undo the change means more change. I have to roll with it. Which is--weird. And really scary. But...maybe not bad, entirely? Maybe.”

“Don’t sound too optimistic,” Janus teased.

“Shut up,” Virgil complained. “I’m trying, okay? Appreciate it!”

“You’re trying very hard,” Janus agreed. Virgil could figure out whether that was sarcastic or not, because Janus didn’t know. “Things certainly are shifting around here.”

“I’m sure you’re thrilled,” Virgil said.

“Hardly,” Janus said. “It’s so much fun being accepted and simultaneously rejected. Not a perilous position at all.”

Something flashed over Virgil’s face. “Patton likes you, and if Patton likes you--”

“Then Patton likes me,” Janus said, waving a hand. “You said it yourself. He’s a big player, but not the only one. Even a pawn can take down a queen.”

“Chess metaphors,” Virgil muttered. “Nerd.”

“Punk,” Janus fired back, and Virgil almost smiled.

“Anyway, I can dream that Roman will see the light eventually,” Janus said lightly. “You, however, may be too much to hope for.”

“Roman doesn’t trust you,” Virgil said sharply. “Not after all the stunts you pulled. And neither does Logan--heck, I’ve barely seen him since the wedding.”

Janus shifted uncomfortably. He hadn’t expected that much of a reaction from Logan, to be perfectly honest.

“Patton trusts me,” he said, not sure if it was a lie. Virgil’s gaze skittered over to the cookies on the table.

“Patton wants to,” Virgil amended. “So does Thomas.”

Janus steeled himself. “Do you?”

Virgil blew out a breath. “I don’t trust you.”

“Of course you don’t,” Janus said, pretending his voice hadn’t dulled.

“How could I?” Virgil asked, and Janus didn’t have an answer. Virgil was smart. Virgil was whip-smart and fierce and fiery. Virgil knew better than to trust Janus.

“Do you want to trust me?” Janus asked, holding out hope.

“I don’t trust you!” Virgil snapped. “You--you broke that trust, you can’t just--you broke it! You can’t just go sweeping all the broken pieces under the rug!”

“That’s my job, Virgil.”

“That’s a jerk move, Deceit.”

Janus took a deep, slow breath. Virgil sunk back into the chair. He slouched into it so naturally. He’d been it in a million times before.

“Do you...” Virgil looked like he was considering his words. He stared a hole in his jeans. “Do you trust me?”

Janus swallowed back a too-sweet lie and a sour truth. “Of course not,” he settled on. “It’s not exactly my job description.”

“Did you ever?” Virgil asked, barely above a whisper. “Or was that all a lie?”

“Yes,” Janus said.

Virgil could figure out if that was truth. Janus couldn’t tell.

Maybe that was why they didn’t last--Virgil couldn’t do all the work of decoding. Janus had to pick sides sometimes. He had to stand for something if he wanted people to stand for him.

Janus would never be everything Virgil needed him to be.

It was for the best that Virgil had left.

“You never answered my question,” Janus said, when the silence shivered for too long. “Do you want to trust me?”

“No,” Virgil said, abrupt and icy and hurtfully true. “No, I don’t. I don’t want that for me. Or you.”

“We’re better off without each other?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, lifting his chin. “At least, that’s what you said, right?”

Virgil had said so, too. And worse. But Janus, for once, decided to keep that jab to himself.

“We can’t exactly avoid each other,” Janus pointed out, examining his fingernails to hide the sting in his eyes. “We are sides of Thomas, and given recent developments, we may be forced to cooperate.”

“Operative word being forced.” Virgil sighed. “But yeah.”

“No avoiding the truth, is there?”

“Nope.”

Another long, thin silence, carrying a million words that Janus could never dare to say aloud.

“Deceit?” Virgil finally asked.

“Yes, Virgil?”

“Will you promise not to hurt him?”

Janus blinked. “Him who?”

“Thomas.” Virgil took a deep breath. “Roman and Logan and Patton, too, but Thomas comes first. So...do you promise not to hurt Thomas?”

“I--” Janus hated the way he hesitated. “Sometimes you have to hurt in order to heal. Life is cruel.”

“No.” Virgil shook his head. “It might be, but you don’t have to be. You never had to be.”

“I could say the same for you,” Janus said, as if accusing Virgil of the same crime meant Virgil’s words stung less.

Virgil, to his credit, shook off the jab almost instantly. “Promise me you won’t hurt Thomas. That you’ll help with this relationship. That you’ll--give us all a real chance to trust you.”

Janus swallowed. “I don’t make promises.”

“Changes, right?” Virgil’s eyes flickered up to Janus, his eyes achingly hopeful. “C’mon. I’ll--I’ll try to work with you, okay? But only if you try to work with me.”

And it scared Janus, how fast he opened his mouth to promise.

To apologize. To change. To become what everyone wanted.

To build Virgil’s trust again.

But he’d been here. He’d been here a million times, when Virgil tearfully apologized after a fight and Janus did the same. Every time, they promised to be better. Every time, they lied.

Thomas lied. Thomas tried to be a better person, then a more selfish person, but in the end he was who he was. Change was an illusion, a lie. You were who you were. Thomas was Thomas. Anxiety was Anxiety. And Deceit was Deceit. Dress them up in outfits and names, but that didn’t hide the truth.

Janus couldn’t build Virgil’s trust to break it yet again.

He wasn’t that cruel.

And of course, he should be jumping at this chance. This was an in to real acceptance, a second chance, all that he’d dreamed of in the empty years without Virgil. The perfect chance for manipulation, too, to wriggle his way into the light and coil around Virgil’s neck. Every atom in Janus’ body told him he needed to take this chance.

And yet, he had always been selfish.

Virgil hated him. Always had, and always would. He didn’t think he could stand to give himself hope.

Some things could change, but some things were broken beyond repair. Janus didn’t want to cut himself on the edges. Janus didn’t want to waste time on his hands and knees. Janus didn’t want to put it together, again and again, postponing the inevitable.

Everything broke. Every game ended. The king fell over, hit the board, and lay still. And Janus set the pieces back into place and tried again.

Who was he without an opponent, someone to rival, a foil to reflect? Who was he on his own?

Fighting himself, dreaming up an imaginary opponent to outwit, and making mistakes just to make the game last longer.

Janus was fooling himself, and it would be funny if it wasn’t so pathetic.

“I don’t promise,” he said, and his hand dropped to his lap. “I’m sorry, Virgil.”

Virgil’s face tightened. “Yeah. Should have seen that coming.”

“I won’t hurt him,” Janus pleaded. “I’ll try not to, but I can’t--”

“I know, I know, you’ve got to keep your options open.” Virgil sighed. “Can’t commit, won’t commit. One day you’re gonna need somewhere to stand and you’re not gonna find anything, Deceit.”

“Not yet,” Janus said. “Not yet.”

“Not yet,” Virgil agreed, and stood up abruptly. His cold tea sat by the chair, untouched. He slipped over to the door, leaving scuff marks on the carpet. “Bye, I guess.”

“Goodbye,” Janus said, feeling simultaneously like the conversation was unfinished and untethered and that things had ended in a very final way.

Virgil pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway. Then he paused, standing there, one hand on the doorframe. A silhouette in black and purple. The purple was so gaudy and bright--no way to sneak around, to hide in the dark.

Virgil didn’t need to hide anymore. Virgil had grown.

Janus wished he was capable of that, too.

But people were who they were.

Every chess game had to end eventually. He’d drawn this one out, but now it was checkmate, and Janus had to cut his losses.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil said, quietly, and Janus fought back a gasp. “I don’t know what you needed, but I know I couldn’t give it to you, and I hope you find whoever you’re standing with eventually. It’s gotta be lonely on your own side.”

“I make do,” Janus said lightly, his chest aching.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil repeated, his fingers tightening on the doorframe. “And--for what it’s worth, Janus, I promise not to hurt him.”

Janus opened his mouth and closed it again.

Virgil disappeared in a rustle of fabric, and the door swung shut behind him.

The room was quiet. Janus’ cold tea sat next to his chair, and Virgil’s teacup gave out and shattered into several small pieces. Cold tea splashed over the carpet, the same dark shade as the plants, as black pieces on a chessboard.

Everything was silent, and Janus knew very suddenly that he’d made the wrong choice.

But there was no turning back. He had to sacrifice pieces for the good of the game. And there was no way to go back in time and fix everything that could be fixed. He had to do his best with the broken pieces.

Janus pressed a hand over his mouth and let himself have one small sob.

Then he waved his other hand, and the carpet folded over itself, the pieces sinking into the ground and disappearing, as if Virgil had never been there at all.

Janus pulled out his chessboard, set up the pieces, and began to play.

General taglist (ask to be included or removed!):

@the17thmeatball

@most-likely-fandom

@csi-baker-street-babes

@caffeinated-cryptid

@thefivecalls

@ollyollyoxinfree

@the-gay-is-back

@dramaticsnakes

@stoicpanther

@chaospersonified

@thatoneloudowl

Taglist from @the-taglist-repository:

@hitmewiththatfanart33 @aceawkwardunicorn @mistythegirlfluxmess @just-your-typical-trans-guy @legendsgates @a-fandom-trashdump @kieraelieson @star-crossed-shipper @itsabsurd-and-terrifying @smileyzs @robinwritesshitposts @thatgaydemigodnerd @arya-skywalker @potatsanderssides @rainbowbowtie @10moonymhrivertam @idont-freaking-know @katelynn-a-fan @dwbh888 @royal-stormcloud @ananonsplace @intruxiety @brain-deadx0 @the-grounded-raven @grouptalekindnesssoul @the-hoely-bleach @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun

#whumptober2020 #sanders sides #janus sanders #virgil sanders #anxceit #sympathetic janus sanders #sympathetic virgil sanders #hurt no comfort #ts spoilers #averywrites #i'm so sorry guys this hurts even me

323 notes · View notes

thenovelartist · 3 years

Text

A Blanc Slate, Chapter 6

OKAY! I'm just ready to see this story done, SO right or wrong, good or bad, we are going to keep chugging along and hope it ends up halfway decently XD.

16. Purring

It had been a revelation that had shaken Ladybug to her core. Chat… was dying?

He stayed silent, waiting for her to speak first.

“Chat…” Any and all words after that died on her tongue.

“That’s why I can’t be your cat anymore,” he said, voice ragged as though he was exhausted. “Because I have to get rid of this ring as soon as possible.”

“Then let’s look for a solution together.”

He shook his head.

“Why not?” she challenged.

“I have to do this on my own. This is my problem—”

“You’re my partner,” she countered. “Your problems are my problems, too.”

He sighed, looking weaker by the second. “I knew you’d say that.”

“Then why don’t you trust me to help you?” she begged, on the verge of tears. “Why are you cutting me out like this?”

He paused, his eyes avoiding hers as he lost himself in thought. “I have my reasons.”

“And they are?”

“Personal.”

Oh, dammit, Chat.

“Sorry,” he muttered, still not meeting her eyes. “But it’s better this way.”

“I don’t think it is.”

“I do, though.”

She grit her teeth, the pain in her heart growing the harder Chat drew the line between them.

“Trust me on this, bug,” he said, finally lifting his hazy gray-green gaze to her. “The backlash of my actions will come back to only me, and I don’t want you in the way.”

“I’d be willing to—”

“Oh, I know you would,” he cut in. “And that’s the problem. You…” He sucked in a breath. “You and Marinette both. You care far too much about people who are hurting. It’s not wrong, but… for people hurting to suddenly have safe havens like you is both the biggest relief and biggest weakness. Because if anything happens to that safe haven, we’re left with nothing. Mentally, it’s easier to leave the safe haven so it stays safe instead of watching it fall to ruin. Do you get what I’m saying, bug?”

The whiplash his words gave her made her head spin. She was sure he’d said other things before to that affect but never so clear for her to understand something she really couldn’t comprehend. “But… I can still be your safe haven even if you lean on me. I just help you get through all the other hard things. That’s what friends do, right?”

Chat’s ears fell, his eyes closing as he took a heavy breath. “There’s a limit to what I feel like I can ask you.”

“There’s no limit for me.”

“Maybe not for you, but I can’t cope with pulling you into this.”

Ladybug bit her lip, confused and hurt. He’d said before to Marinette that he loved Ladybug more than anything, so why was he pushing her away? Was he saying that he couldn’t lean on her because he cared for her? Because he couldn’t put that kind of pressure on her even if she was willing to take it?

She just… did not understand.

“Sorry,” he muttered, breaking the silence. “I figured you wouldn’t understand. So just… realize that I need to do this myself and stop trying to butt in to ‘help’. Because it’s not helping.”

There wasn’t anything else she could do. “Okay,” she relented. “Under one condition.”

His brow furrowed, and she watched his guard spring up again. “No. No conditions.”

“Just hear me out.”

“Why don’t you hear me out?”

Silenced, her words died on her tongue.

“I don’t want to pull you into this, and don’t go forcing yourself into my issues, either,” he growled, ears pinned back. “I’m asking one thing of you, and you’re trying to play fix-it by not listening to me. Stay. Out.”

There was no other option for her but to relent. “Understood.”

The edge of Chat’s intensity softened, his ears relaxing so they were no longer pinned at her. “Thank you.”

“This won’t be our last meeting, right?”

Chat quirked a brow at her. “Of course. I’ll have to give the ring back to you.”

Oh… right. “Still. You’re not going to just drop it off with me and run, right? You’ll talk with me? Please?”

He stared at her for a long moment before sighing. “Yeah. Fine.”

“Okay,” she sighed, sad and hurting but hopelessly unable to push forward anymore. “That’s all I ask for. I’ll leave you alone until then.”

“Thank you. Now, you leave first.”

Ladybug quirked a brow at him. “What?”

“I have to apologize to Marinette. And thank her for letting us use the room.”

“Oh,” she muttered.

“I don’t have anything more to say to you now, Ladybug,” he stated. “And I won’t until I finish this last mission. So please, just go.”

Though it hurt, she really didn’t have a choice. He’d said more than she’d expected him to, and he also made it clear the conversation was over. She didn’t want to push and risk pushing him away again. But with this in mind, she knew she’d have to think about how their last meeting would go and what she was willing to give to make him stay in contact with her.

She stood. “Okay. I’ll go tell Marinette you’re awake.”

“Thanks.”

She went downstairs, detransformed and waited a minute, as though Ladybug was explaining everything to Marinette. It was hard not to immediately go back up to him, but it had to be done for her identity.

But once that thought struck her, she realized that she’d likely know who Chat was very soon. If he was going to give the ring back to her, he’d have to detransform. She’d know what he looked like outside the mask. She’d be willing to beg for his name, as well as for anything he was willing to give her about him. A part of her had always wanted to know the man behind the mask. But she’d never wanted that more than now.

And if she had to give her own identity in exchange, she realized she’d gladly do it.

Eventually, she walked back up to her room and knocked on the door. “Chat?”

“Come in.”

She opened the door, and there was Chat, sitting right where he had been, except the smile on his face nearly knocked her off her feet. “It’s your room, you know,” he said, his tone teasing. “You don’t have to knock.”

She shrugged, unable to come up with any other retort. “You had both Ladybug and I really worried, you know.”

That smile of his disappeared. “Sorry, Princess,” he said, letting his eyes close and head fall back to lean against the wall. “I didn’t mean to. And I’m sorry about everything else, too. It’s not like I want you to have to take care of me—”

“I don’t mind,” she cut in, crawling up to her bed and taking a seat beside him, their shoulders touching. “Really, I don’t mind at all.”

He huffed. “You shouldn’t have to be babying this superhero.”

“Again, I don’t mind.”

“You’re not a caretaker,” he said. “And it’s not fair of me to take advantage of you like that.”

She shrugged. “You need help. And I’m happy to assist.”

He sighed, turning down to look at her. “I know I yelled at you before for being Miss Fix-it,” he eventually said. “But one of your best qualities is your willingness to help someone. But then again. Maybe it’s not.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because it makes me worry someone might take advantage of you.”

Marinette tilted her head. “Like… what are you talking about? I’m smarter than to let that happen.”

He huffed, sliver of a grin flashing across his lips before disappearing again. “Nevermind. Just… be careful who you let in your life. You… you’re a pretty amazing girl, babying a guy who can’t even tell right from left. You deserve the best, Princess.”

“You’re a pretty amazing guy, too, Chat,” she said. “Risking your life for Paris’s safety for years and still finding time to make others smile when you could. I want the best for you, too.”

He hummed, but didn’t respond. Instead, he leaned sideways, his head resting on top of hers. “Sorry, Princess,” he muttered. “I just… I really need a minute. And then I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Take as much time as you need,” she assured. Out of habit, she reached up, burying her fingers into his white locks right under his cat ear. He stiffened at her touch, but as she slowly scratched circles in his hair, he relaxed. If she was Ladybug, she would use this to start up a purr that amused her so. But she didn’t expect that this time. It was only to put him at ease.

But he ended up purring anyway.

The sound rumbled through her, somehow calming her heart. Oh, kitty.

She stayed like that for a while, long enough for him to fall asleep. And when she eventually realized that, she laid him down on her bed, curling up beside him, and ended up falling asleep herself.

17. Locked in

After that last time she’d met him as Ladybug, Marinette had noticed Chat seemed to be losing himself more and more. She hated watching it, that ring draining him dry. She just wished he’d tell her what he was doing so she, her Ladybug self, could help him. So she could save him.

But she couldn’t. Chat had told her no. And pushing would ruin any chance of saving their partnership.

“You seem to be pushing yourself really hard,” Marinette began, setting a plate of cookies in front of him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

“So what if I am?”

She sighed, taking a moment to focus on what she wanted to say and what she could say as Marinette. Which… wasn’t much.

Chat’s icy demeanor thawed. “Sorry. Guess I’m just on edge with everything lately.”

“Is it stress or…?”

He shrugged. “A combination of things.”

“From what I can guess, you’re pushing yourself too hard.”

“I am cleaning up a mess that I alone can deal with,” he said. “And… guess I can say it’s taking a lot out of me.”

Like your life and health. She bit her lip. “How much longer do you think you’ll be at this? Because watching you now is painful.”

He paused, silence lingering a long while once again. “I have one thing I have to get for Ladybug,” he answered. “That’s it. Then I’m done.”

She blinked her surprise, unsure if she was more shocked at his task or him being so forthcoming about it. “My guess is it has something to do with the miraculous?”

He nodded. “I thought it was locked in a… certain place. But it wasn’t. It took a while to hunt down, but I found it.”

“So… are you saying you’ll be done soon?” she asked, hopeful. “And then you’ll be able to rest and recover?”

He stared at her for a moment before reaching out to rest a large, comforting hand on her head. “Yeah. And then I should be back on track to be okay again, okay, princess?”

She blinked at him, already feeling her vision blur.

He gave her a smile, one weak from exhaustion but true nevertheless. “Thank you for caring about me. It means more to me than you realize.”

18. Oops

Her cat just kept wanting to give her heart attacks, didn’t he? If it wasn’t bad enough that he was already barely lucid half the time, Marinette had just come up on her balcony to see the white super sprawled out, unconscious.

“Chat. Chat!” She flipped him off his stomach as carefully as she could before checking him over for any sign his was breathing. Which, while shallow, he was.

“You’re going to be the death of me, damn it!” she hissed, plopping down on the ground and pulling his head in her lap. Gently, she patted his cheek. “Chat. Chat, wake up, please.”

He didn’t, at least not right away. It took a moment for him to so much as stir under her touch. And when he finally opened his eyes, Marinette felt herself sigh heavily in relief.

“Damn it, you stupid cat,” she said, heaving a sigh of relief while her gut still burned with worry. “You scared the crap out of me.”

His eyes shut for a moment. “Sorry,” he muttered. When he opened his eyes again, they seemed to be a little less foggy. Nowhere near fully lucid yet, but she’d take any bit of progress she could at the moment.

She sat there for a while, stroking his hair and pondering what she could possibly say that she hadn’t already said a million times before. She couldn’t tell him to surrender his ring now, since he seemed determined to see this through, nor could she tell him to go to Ladybug for help. He certainly wasn’t going to listen to her either way.

“What am I going to do with you?” she muttered, tears beginning to make their way down her face. She realized that too late when they rolled off her jaw to splatter against Chat’s cheeks.

“It’s almost over, princess,” he muttered, forcing a weak smile that clearly took a lot of energy out of him. “I’m almost done.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“I mean it this time,” he wheezed out. “I… I got it.”

Got what? She wondered.

It took her far too long to realize what he meant.

“You’re really almost done?”

“Yeah,” he said, reaching up a shaky hand to roughly brush away the tear trail on her cheek. “Almost done.”

She could have cried in relief. Now, she had to prepare herself for his meeting with Ladybug. “Are you going to meet Ladybug now?”

He opened his mouth, but froze, words seemingly stuck in his throat.

“Chat?”

“No,” he answered solemnly, the light seeming to fade form his eyes. “Not… I need… I need a moment.”

Her brow furrowed. “To collect yourself?”

“To… recollect everything,” he said. “Because… it didn’t go as planned. And to call it the second big ‘oops’ I’ve made is just… too much an understatement.”

Suddenly, Marinette’s gut was back into such a tight knot she felt like she could throw up. What happened, cat?

A stupid question. Because unless she could work some Ladybug magic on him, she doubted she’d ever know.

#miraculous ladybug of course #marichat #marichatmay2021 #Ladynoir #sneaking in here again

47 notes · View notes

littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

Text

Little Border Town Pt. 3

Summary: It begins with a man and a woman, as it always seems to. One lives in France and the other lives in Italy, technically, but they’re also neighbors. Various issues arise between these two and they can’t ever seem to see eye to eye on anything. Will they ever move past their petty fighting or is the little town they live in doomed to only gossip about what Harry and Y/N are fighting about today?

Part 3: the one with the boat and the beginning of a storm

IT’S BEEN AGESSSS I AM SO SO SORRY I LOVE YALL SO MUCH AND EVERYONE WHO HAS EVER READ THIS THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT

also harry is wearing this fit in this part just no tie?? i think i cant remember

college has been incredibly crazy this year already and i just dont have time to write like i did before i went back. i honestly had this mostly finished and i havent reread so i have no idea what even happens so lmk what you think, i can’t imagine that it will get a lot of notes but if it did id be very happy about that - anyways lots of love and feedback appreciated as always...pls enjoy

Word Count: 6.6k | Warnings: ?? Swearing? idek, more yearning bc slow burn

Catch up here! part 1 | 2 |

“Isn’t the weather not ideal for boat sailing today,” she ponders as her face looks up at the sky. She’s walking into Harry’s store again after running back to her place to grab a jacket and lock up. She placed a notecard in the door’s window that says “closed today, see you tomorrow” with a smiling face as punctuation.

Harry grins, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He had sailing boots on his feet with a smart big-collared printed shirt and marigold trousers. Instead of a belt, he had suspenders that matched the color of his pants and a pearl necklace as his final accessory other than his rings. He must have repainted his nails this morning because they were a light lavender shade that hadn’t been noticeable last night.

“It’s just fine. We’re entering fall and the sun is out today!” He gestures to the sky above them and she nods in agreement that the sun is indeed out. However she wasn’t sure if she’d categorize it as a nice day to go out on the sea still. With the sun there were also many clouds, they were mostly white and fluffy, but she was sure they could turn sinister any moment.

“Ready?” He beams.

“As I’ll ever be.”

On the boat, Y/N felt her stomach churning. Was she giddy or unnerved? Likely, both.

Harry was tying the boat off the dock after helping her onto the deck. It wasn’t a huge boat, not a yacht or anything, but it also wasn’t a tiny sailboat. It had an upper deck where maybe four people - at most - could comfortably be. Then a lower deck, inside a hatch in the upper deck. She couldn’t discern how much space was down there, but she was sure Harry would show her. He was talking through everything he was doing on the boat. Ad nauseum for an extremely nontechnical girl, such as herself.

Still, she sat in the spot he had directed her to next to the closed hatch and watched him move gracefully around the boat. Maneuvering the sails and different parts of the boat was a dance for Harry. Each step, each twist and knot, moved by a song unknown to her. It was beautiful. He was completely in his element, surprisingly. Again, Harry surprised her. She knew he had a boat, but whenever she thought of a jerk with a boat she didn’t think of what she was seeing with her own eyes. It was beautiful - or at least, it would be, if he’d shut his big mouth that was now making her roll her eyes as he made a pun about boats.

“So,” Harry starts finally, finishing up whatever he needed to do to get the boat off the dock and on the path he wanted. They were moving out into open water, she could see the little town, but it was growing smaller by the minute. Her stomach churned again as she looked up at the man she had just trusted to take her out onto the ocean. She grimaced slightly at the thought.

“Do you want to see the inside?” he continued.

She nods eagerly, “Finally!”

He chuckles lightly before opening up the hatch and gesturing for her to go first. She looks at him hesitantly.

“This isn’t a trap right? It’s not going to be all...murder-y down there?” Her voice is pitched higher, she’s almost completely serious.

This time Harry’s laugh comes from his belly, almost doubling over at the word ‘murder-y’. Between laughs, he tries to reassure her. “God no...oh my god.” More laughter, then a deep breath. “The only evil entity on this boat is the diavola I invited on here,” he gestures to her standing in front of him and her eyes narrow. Displeasure washing over her features.

“You’re ridiculous,” her hand swats at his sternum before she turns from him and climbs down to the underdeck area.

When she’s down, she’s surprised with her surroundings and she doesn’t notice Harry follow quickly behind her. It’s neat and stylish. Well, she’s not completely surprised, Harry was very fashionable. But the neatness dissipated all thoughts of the improbable scenario where Harry had lured her on his boat to murder her. It was what she had been freaking out over when she had at first refused to enter.

There was a small daybed at the end of the hall that doubled as a couch, a door to a bathroom, a dining area, a kitchenette, and then the random area they were standing in. It wasn’t super spacious, it was a hallway with things around it, but it was clean and it smelled nice. Everything had a place and they were neatly put in their places. After a moment, she turned at the feeling of Harry’s presence behind her.

He grinned, scanning the areas her eyes had just taken in for the first time. His green eyes were filled with admiration. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, smells like you.” She nods matter of factly.

“Huh?” His head whips to her, sure he hadn’t heard her right.

“The whole place is very you,” she looks away from him and walks down the hall to the daybed and takes a seat, “Styles-ish.”

He follows quickly behind, shaking his head out of his own thoughts.

He mumbles a thanks, not catching the play on words she’d used with his last name. She smiles to herself, pleased. He stands in the doorway, not really wanting to sit beside her. Maybe he didn’t trust himself with being in such close proximity with her anymore. No, not after last night.

Her eyes widen slightly when he leans against the doorway and crosses his arms. The sleeves of his button-up had been rolled up when he had been working with the sails. Her lips suddenly are dry and she wets them with her tongue, eyes moving to the fabric of the blanket she’s sat on top of.

“I meant to say,” Harry breaks the silence, obviously not a fan of the quiet. A hand leaves his pose and runs through his hair, rings classically tugging at his curls. He swallows before he speaks again, “Thanks, uh, for stopping me last night. That would’ve been weird…”

He trails off and her eyes go wide again, but now they’re trained on his face. His eyes are downcast now, watching the way light plays off his rings. She tries to make out the sound in his voice, the expression he’s trying to hide with indifference. Her teeth tug her bottom lip into her mouth as she thinks, silence once again taking hold of the small, small room. The air is tense, static, unmoving, the complete opposite of the water that rushes just outside the walls of the boat.

She clears her throat and Harry locks eyes with her, “No problem...alcohol and atmosphere, clouds the head. I get it.” She did, but she also hadn’t wanted the gratitude Harry had just placed on her.

“You booze, you lose,” he smiles, straightening up and she looks at him quizzically.

“That’s such an odd phrase.”

“No it’s not!”

“It’s a play on ‘you snooze, you lose’ right?” She leans forward, face looking smugly up at Harry’s offended face.

“Well, yeah,” Harry admits.

“I can’t believe you made that up and got it tattooed,” She states breezily and then stands. She brushes past him to look around the rest of the cabin.

Harry scoffs, not even noticing the way her fingers had brushed over his naked forearm as she passed, too focussed on his indignation. “How’d you know about the tattoo?”

“Naked neighbor? Never closing his shade? Do you seriously need a refresher course already? Seriously, boat boy, I really thought you were smarter than that,” She talks as she snoops around the different parts of the cabin. She pokes at figurines and looks at little photos and paintings. Her head looks over her shoulder and she laughs happily at Harry’s face of irritation. It was so easy to push his buttons.

“Don’t call me boat boy,” he seethes, but she knows he’s not really mad. More like he’s a child who got told no dessert before dinner. A laugh rocks through her body again and bubbles to the surface. It causes Harry to soften, this time there’s no alcohol in his system to account for the feeling he just felt. He mirrors the smile she has. That is until she reaches the kitchenette and finds a rack of CDs sitting beside the sink.

She turns from him and begins to leaf through them, most of them are artists she recognizes. But then she reaches some that are just titled “Demo” with various numbers beside the word. Her fingers nimbly pick out “Demo #1” and turn back to Harry with an inquisitive gaze. His green eyes are bigger than usual, the smile gone from his face.

“These from the boy band days?” She smiles wider as he turns a little red. She crosses closer to him, remembering the sight of a cd player in the main area where the entrance to the cabin was.

“Erm..no.” She flips around again, confused again, but then it dawns on her. “Demos for my solo work.”

“That you put on hold to take over for your Uncle.”

“Great Uncle.” He corrects.

“I know.” She waited a second, where she was about to be quick to play the CD, she now wanted to get Harry’s permission. It might be a little more personal than she had first thought. “Can we listen to this one? You’d technically be taking me up on the request to play for me sometime.”

“Yeah, they’re rough - obviously. So if you could try to not bruise my ego, at least not more than you usually do,” he grins and she looks at him with dead eyes. A smile cracks on her face quickly, still.

“I wouldn’t...this is different,” she struggles to find the right words. She would never make fun of something he cared a lot about, not now. She wasn’t that person, it was odd to think he maybe saw her like that. She shook away the thought and focused on placing the CD in its player correctly.

The first song begins to play, he’s right it is rough, it’s a demo. There’s no backing vocals or beat of any kind. Just a voice and a guitar. And it’s amazing. After the guitar intro, she lets out a breath she had been holding when she hears the voice. His voice. It’s beautiful. And she’s shocked, her eyes flash to Harry. He’s nibbling at his bottom lip, watching her hear it for the first time. His voice from all those years ago.

“Brooklyn saw me empty at the news, there’s no water inside this swimming pool.”

Her eyes light up again at the lyrics and she smiles, finding it melancholic yet slightly funny at the same time. It was interesting, the words, his voice, the meaning. Some bits of information eluded her, but she knew she enjoyed the song.

“And I’ve been praying, I never did before.”

Even as the song moved on from this one lyric, she felt it replaying in her head as she watched the singer in front of her. Years older than he had been when he had written this song. She was filled with questions and paused the CD as the guitar faded out.

“That’s it?” Harry laughs, “Just one song? It was really that horrible?”

“Oh my god, no!” She is emphatic, needing Harry to understand she’s serious. She takes a step closer to his figure. He had traveled closer to her while the song had played. They were almost chest to chest and her hand goes out to touch his forearm. “I really liked it, genuinely. I just needed a moment before the next one.”

“Bracing yourself?”

“Stop, I’m serious. It was beautiful. Your voice is wonderful, Harry.”

His eyes sparkle at the praise, finally believing she’s not taking the piss. Then his eyes dropped from her gaze, “I was a lot younger then, was 21 I think when I recorded this demo.”

“So? A voice like that doesn’t just disappear, dude.” She looks at him with a finality in her expression before dropping the hand that was firmly gripping his tattooed arm and turning back to the CD player.

Harry bites his lip as another one of his early songs plays over the shoddy speakers. His voice repeats “Meet me in the hallway” over the solo guitar. There’s no echo or bass, no count in like the final song was supposed to have. It’s just him and his guitar, before he chose to leave it all behind.

His voice is sadder here, she notices and she visibly winces at “just take the pain away” and “just let me know, I’ll be on the floor” and his repetition of “gotta get better.”

How did this man, who seemed fazed by practically nothing, have so much hurt in him to write both of these songs? Her eyes welled with water, but she blinked them back still staring at the singer before her. He was watching the CD spin in the player as his voice came through the speakers. He was lost in thought, in memory. Maybe she was lucky, these weren’t memories for her, she was only hearing his interpretation of his life. She hadn’t had to live that pain first hand. This time she doesn’t pause before the next song.

The next one seems more produced than the last two. This one starts with drums, a step up from the last two acoustic demos in respect to production. A big crash and then a wailing guitar and an accompanying voice. His voice is stronger here, more sure of himself. And then it changes again, melancholic once again and her heart strings are yanked at again.

“We’re not who we used to be, we’re just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me, trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat.”

The guitar continues that sad tone for a riff and then goes back to strumming beneath his voice. She shifts her eyes to him again and sighs softly, it weighs heavy on her soul that the man next to her has seemingly been through so much heartache. He looks up at “We don’t see what we used to see” and she holds his gaze, brows knit together in confusion and sadness. She pauses this time, finger reaching out without looking.

“This is depressing, please tell me they’re not all sad songs or I might as well have turned on a pet rescue commercial.”

His smile etches on his face, in a small knowing smirk and he crosses into her personal space. She’s about to step back, but he reaches out and softly bats her finger away from the pause/play button. She smiles back, shuffling to lean against the counter beside him. It was unusual for them to be on the same side of the counter, much like last night at the bar.

“There’s six songs on this demo. Three sad, three…” he trails off, looking at her expectantly. She nods. “You gotta learn to be a little less impatient, hmm?”

“Not impatient, just trying to brace myself for more sadness. I thought I had been promised a day of fun,” she grumbles.

“I wasn’t the one who suggested a demo listening party,” his brows raise and she twists her mouth to the side at his smug response.

“True,” she finally concedes with a murmur.

He presses play and a new song comes on that is more upbeat than any of the other’s that have played so far. It also seems to be a bit more produced than the first two. Her hand rests on the countertop and begins to tap, she quirks her brow at the first lyric “she’s got a family in carolina, so far away, but she says I remind her of home.” A girl who likened Harry Styles to the South of the United States, interesting. As she listens to the lyrics, she smirks at the massive crush he must have had to write this song. The “good girl” lyrics bounce around in her mind and her mind drifts back to last night. Would it have felt good? To kiss Harry?

Then, she’s brought out of her reverie with “I met her once and wrote a song about her”. Her eyes widen and look to Harry again inquisitively as his past self muses over how good this girl felt. He wrote about a one night stand? That woman must have been magic. That was all she had to say about that.

“Really?” She asks incredulously, folding her arms over her chest. His gaze flickers at the movement, human nature. He presses pause.

“What?”

“A one night stand earned that?”

He looked at her seriously, like the answer was obvious. She laughs before continuing.

“You’re a simp.”

“I’m sorry?” He sputters at her statement immediately.

She raises her brows as a response now. Nothing else to say.

“She wasn’t a one night stand,” he defends, “She was a blind date...and it had been after a dry spell.”

She starts to laugh, about to give another snarky response, but he adds, “And I was twenty-one.” The numbers specifically enunciated.

“You’re still a simp in my book...but I liked the song. It was catchy, rock vibes in there. I don’t know about her telling you remind her of Carolina - north or south, I don’t see it.”

He eyes her warily, still not happy with her titling him that gen z term that was super popular all over the internet. He took her in and he knew she was only three years younger than him, he was pretty sure, yet she used ‘simp’ and ‘vibes’ like they were lexicon words. He didn’t hate it, it was just different than what he usually heard in the little border town. Italian not having translations for things like that, English was so interesting, internet language was so interesting.

“I-” He starts and stops. “She said it. Was she right? That’s not my place to judge.”

“I don’t know,” Y/N pressed, words dragging out playfully, “Personally, I wouldn’t want to be a reminder of the U.S. South, but okay...simp.”

“I swear to god if you call me that one more time, I’m throwing you overboard and I won’t feel bad about it.”

Her eyes widen and then she smiles, he cracks a smile too. They huddle back around the CD player, ready for the next song. It starts with a strong guitar and drums, again well produced compared to the acoustic earlier ones.

His voice in this is far more shaky, unsure of himself again. “Let me take my medicine, take my medicine, treat you like a gentleman,” comes through the speakers. She shivers and looks at him, her fingers tapping along to the beat. The instruments are strong where his voice is soft, it doesn’t exactly fit, but she likes the lyrics still. When it gets to the pre-chorus, that’s when she knows she loves the song.

“I had a few got drunk on you and now I’m wasted, and when I sleep I’m gonna dream of how you (tasted)”

When his voice pitches high for ‘wasted’ she loses it. Her body moves with the instruments and her eyes close and her head wiggles. Harry smiles happily as she dances for the first time to one of his songs. The last word must have been shouted by his bandmates, because she doesn’t hear him say it.

Then the chorus hits and she wonders how it got even better. Her eyes shoot open and she just stares at Harry, her jaw slightly dropped.

“If you got out tonight, I’m going out tonight cause I know you’re persuasive! You got that something and I got me an appetite now I can taste it”

His past self sings of getting dizzy and his voice moans into the mic the demo was recorded on. She’s blown away. It sounds so hot, his voice gaining confidence during the pre-chorus and the chorus to have an all around rockstar sound.

The present Harry just taps his rings together as he watches her, studying her reaction with an even-tempered expression. Why isn’t he screaming like she is on the inside? When it gets to the second verse she’s bracing herself for what’s to come. This song has her pulse racing and blood flowing wildly around her body. She’s buzzing from it.

“The boys and the girls are in, I mess around with him and I’m okay with it”

The electric guitar follows the line up and she thinks she’s going to pass out on this boat right now. Flamboyant Harry. Was this what Marie had been talking about. The wild side of Harry she really had never seen, embodied in one song. She wanted more of it. Still all she got was the Harry on the demo rocking out to his song. She can hear him smiling through the recording, the sad boy from a few songs ago was now feeling euphoric. She just wanted to dance the night away with him.

Then another pre-chorus: “I’m coming down, I figured out I kinda like it, and when I sleep I’m gonna dream of how you (ride it)”

His voice goes high again for ‘like it’ this time and her question of what is to follow is quickly answered with the bandmates screaming ‘ride it’ into the mics they must have had. It’s punctuated with the drums and other instruments. A noise escapes the back of her throat and Harry looks at her both smugly and amused. She rolls her eyes in response, trying to convince Harry that she hadn’t just had images of him singing about how good someone rides him flash in her mind. Even more so with the images of someone, namely her, being the object of his dreams. Doing the things he said he’d dream of. That, that was definitely not what she was thinking about. Definitely not. Her throat was dry and she swallowed hard. Harry’s eyes never left her face. Watching every reaction, gauging it and storing the information elsewhere for the time being.

She sings along to the chorus, trying to focus on the song, it was easy to pick up, but then the damn moans. And then there’s a guitar solo that sounds like sex itself and she’s baffled that this was an unreleased demo, not a famous rock song. Harry in front of her can’t stop himself from tapping his feet at this part, a little dance forming on his body as his eyes finally leave her figure. They close as he feels the music, the memory of his friend playing the riff clear in his mind and how much he had loved it. It builds up again and then there’s a final chorus. She watches him now as he dances in the confined space. His mouth opens to sing along to the “la la la’s”

It ends and goes straight into another upbeat song. It seemed like a complimentary song to the one that had just played.

“I don’t want your sympathy, but you don’t know what you do to me, oh Anna!”

His voice sings strong again. Harry before her composed himself again, going back to his watching position. He took in her tapping and smiling to the song. He also mouths the words slightly as it plays, the lyrics clear as the day he finished writing them almost 4 years ago. One of the final ones for this demo.

“Hope you never hear this and know that it’s for you, don’t know what I’d tell you if you asked me for the truth”

She smirks at him, now, with the earnest lyrics, about to say something, but then notices the change in the guitar. It switches from the epic riff that was going to a more familiar tune, “Faith” by George Michael. She looks at him, a cheesy grin on her face as the voice begins to sing the chorus of that song. Her body begins to dance to it, like an old man doing the twist. She’s not ashamed and Harry loves it and joins her by mirroring the movements.

When the song comes to an end, they’re one large giggling mess. She falls into his arms and he holds her steady, their laughter coming out with freedom.

“Thanks for making me be patient,” She looks up at him, “it was worth it!”

He smiles, backing up slightly, “It’s like I knew what I was talking about.”

“Ok smart guy,” she teases with a silly voice. “I’m assuming whoever Anna is, isn’t actually named Anna then...?”

Harry hums and makes a twitch of his brows, but doesn’t respond. Instead he grabs her hand and she squeaks slightly, he pulls her to the ladder and prompts her to go up. She obliges silently and lands back on the top of the boat now. She looks out and sees the little town to be off in the distances now, shining blue water all around the creamy white boat.

Harry stands behind her now and shuts the hatch easily. She looks at him warily, confused by his silence. He extends his hand to her this time and she takes it. He leads her to the front of his boat. They’re moving, but so slowly you’d barely notice. There’s a loveseat of sorts right at the front and Harry sets her down in it. She smiles at him with caution, still bewildered. He leans against a part of the boat that stands in front of the seat.

“It’s beautiful, right?” He asks.

Her eyes have been looking around her, but they’ve mostly been trained on Harry. She was mesmerized by him now. His music, his boat, his clothes, his everything. She was seeing him in a new light. In a completely brand new way that had her unable to take her eyes off of him.

She nods finally when Harry looks at her expectantly. “It’s amazing,” she breathes.

His smile is the half-sided grin again. Beautiful big teeth on display with a little part of space between them. His dimple pops out and once again her eyes are on his face. She realized going on this boat with Harry might not have been such a good idea.

He folds his arms, her eyes flicker down. Every movement he makes, she doesn’t want to miss it. Even if she also is telling her mind to shake it off, she can’t. It’s like a spell.

“Obviously Anna is a pseudonym,” he says finally, eyes watching where the boat was taking him. She nods in approval. He pauses, watching the little waves, but she knows he has more to say.

“What did you think of the rest of it?” He asks quietly, gaze never going back to her. He knew she’d teased him a little and had danced along to some. She’d looked at him with wide eyes at some lyrics, but he wanted to know what she really thought.

She can tell he’s nervous, but she doesn’t understand why. They were all very good songs, his voice was beautiful, the lyrics were interesting. She didn’t understand his lack of confidence. His first time not exhibiting his usual self-assured - self-absorbed, even - personality. She bites her lip in confusion and his brows knit together, further showing his apprehension. The wrinkles in his forehead show up more prominently and she’s reminded that Harry is 26. He’s a different person now then he was back when he recorded that demo. Maybe there was a reason he kept them on the boat. She felt unsure in her response now.

“They were all great, Harry.” His face softens immediately. “Each one was beautifully written and sung. The ones that were acoustic sounded wonderful as did the ones with your whole band. I’m honored to be someone who got to hear those masterpieces.”

She wanted to tell them they should be famous songs, but she had a feeling that might not have the effect on him that she wanted. He had chosen a little quiet life in the little border town. She didn’t think he would want to hear how his music could have made it big time.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, just about the sounds of the sea. He lets a closed mouth smile twist onto his face, but it feels like he doesn’t fully believe her. She wants to kiss his worry away, but again, she knows it’s not possible. His words from earlier rang in her head. It would make things weird. Yeah, you’re right. Ugh, why had she agreed. She didn’t agree, not at all, not anymore.

“Did you have a favorite?” He stands up straighter with his question.

She laughs slightly, “I liked the second to last one a lot. It was hot.”

“Hot how?” He steps closer, smirking.

She jumps up from her reclined seat, in indignation, “Oh come on, you know it’s hot. Now you’re just looking for me to stroke your ego! It’s obviously about sex.”

“And? You’re the one who’s saying it’s your favorite and blushing.” He arches a brow at her, arms going to his hips and looking at her teasingly.

“Well, you’re the one who was singing about sucking dick and dreaming of how someone rode you.”

“Is that what it’s about?” His voice raises as he purses his lips and raises both of his brows.

She realizes just how worked up he’s gotten her in such a short amount of time. She huffs and turns away from him with a flick of her hand. “You’re infuriating.” Is all she can say. She looks out at the waves now, ignoring Harry even though he’s less than a foot away.

He’s laughing behind her for a little. Then when she doesn’t turn around, he quiets and she’s not quite sure where he’s gone. Then his breath fans over her neck and right shoulder, where her jacket hasn’t managed to cover her. It’s warm and a little minty as the scent travels over the salty sea air. She doesn’t turn or move a muscle for that matter.

A hand reaches out to her shoulder, but still she makes no move to turn. It rests there for a minute and she simply huffs again, letting her shoulders rise and fall dramatically. A single laugh slips from Harry’s mouth.

“C’mon diavola, don’t be like that. S’all in good fun.” His voice is low in her ear, sultry even. It reminds her of his voice in that song once he got into it. His voice sounds like sex in her ear and this time when she sighs it’s not because she’s irritated with him. No, she wants him. The sigh has an undercurrent of that desire and she hopes Harry doesn’t understand that. But otherwise she stays quiet, letting him murmur into her ear with his hand on her shoulder and his chest pressed to her back now. The only witness of this exchange is the ocean before them.

His head leans closer and if she didn’t know any better it felt like he was about to press a kiss to her neck. Instead all she feels is the brush of his mustache, it tickles the shell of her ear and she can’t keep in the giggle. She twists away from the sensation and Harry is grinning at her when she faces him.

His hand still on her shoulder and his body still pressed close to hers. He’s so warm and so close and so shiny new in her eyes, even if he still manages to irritate her. Her eyes flicker up to his as their laughter quiets down. She realizes her own hands have gone to his waist to steady herself and she follows his feet as he backs them up from the edge of the boat that she had brought them too.

It’s quiet again. They’re staring at each other intently. Her eyes are swirling with emotion because she just wants to know what’s going on in the brain of the man before her. She wants to know everything about him, but she knows that’s not how he feels about her. Sure, they’re friends now, but nothing else.

Why did she have to come on this stupid boat and find his stupid amazing music? Why did he have such a stupid amazing face?

These questions and other silly things were racing around her head as she gripped his waist. He didn’t mind her quietness, he found her gaze to be a little unnerving, but he was just glad he had made her laugh. He found that he didn’t enjoy her anger at him as much anymore.

Just as he was about to start another conversation, there was a cloud that drifted over the shining sun. It was her original fear come to life. Harry’s brows furrowed as he looked up at the clouds. They were turning grey. Fast.

“Shit, shit, shit,” He began mumbling and released his hand from her shoulder. He pulled away from her hold and began moving swiftly around the boat. He needed to get them off the water, there was a storm coming.

Her eyes went wide as she noticed the approaching storm as well. Her brows furrowed with worry as she watched Harry begin working on the boat, his only words being curses to himself at first.

Then he enlists her help, asking her to hold onto a specific part of the boat for him after he threw her a life vest and made her put it on. She wore it with great dissatisfaction. He only shrugged as he continued to move nimbly around the boat, turning them around, back to the dock.

The boat moved much swifter into the shore than it had on their way out. The waves were growing choppier by the minute and she would admit she was more than a little scared. Thankfully, Harry knew what he was doing and got them there quickly and safely. Once at the dock, he tied them there and then helped her off the boat. She stood on the dock uncomfortably as the rain started to come down.

“Give me your lifevest!” He gestures from the boat.

She quickly takes it off and flinches when the first bout of thunder sounds from far off. He takes it from her and throws it haphazardly down the hatch along with his own before jumping off the boat himself. He surveys the boat from the dock to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. Then he looks at her. She’s wrapped her arms around herself and is ducking her head, looking like she’s attempting to ward off rain but failing miserably.

She looks up at him and he offers a soft smile of reassurance.

“Take my hand!” He shouts slightly over the growing sound of rain and thunder. He wants to get them out of the rain, but he’s also apprehensive to leave his boat to the mercy of the weather. Still, that’s all he can do.

She puts her hand in his and his fingers weave with hers. Then, they’re off racing back to their street in the little border town.

“I should go back to my place!”

“Don’t be silly! France is much too far for you to go in this weather!”

She laughs and grips his hand tighter as he fumbles for his key. His wet hand slipping as the rain droplets soak their clothes and skin. Even though her door is a mere few feet away she allows Harry to pull her into his shop. The warmth and dryness appreciated after running a few blocks in the now torrential downpour. There weren’t storms often in the little border town, but like the old adage said ‘when it rained, it poured’ quite literally. The less she had to travel in the rain the happier she was, even if it was three measly feet.

It also occurred to her that she’d be able to sit out her first storm with someone by her side. And she would admit that didn’t sound like the worst thing in the world. She wasn’t necessarily a fan of storms and being in a new place with a storm she’d never weathered before was daunting. Harry inviting her in was a blessing. She didn’t have to be asked twice.

Once inside the little shop, their wet frames begin to form puddles beneath themselves. Harry sighs and takes off up his rickety stairs. She looks after him in confusion but stays put when he calls a quick “Wait there!”

She shakes a bit of the rain from her and shivers as she listens for Harry’s movements barely audible above the crashing of the rain water. When he returns, her breath catches in her throat, like she just choked on something, yet there’s nothing.

As he walks down the steps, far slower now, his wet hair shakes out around his head forming some ethereal halo. The light from upstairs illuminates him and the darkness outside casts an ominous darkness as he descends.

“Un ange…” She whispers after finally catching her breath.

If he hears her, it doesn’t matter. He’s already beginning to smile widely just from seeing Y/N before him.

He skips the last step and crosses to her swiftly. “Let’s get you dried a little more,” he begins to dote. A matching smile spreads on Y/N’s face out of appreciation. She still can’t manage to fend off the shivering and Harry’s smile falters. His hands leave the towel and trace her exposed skin. Her cheek feels like ice, only slightly warming under his touch.

“You need dry clothes,” he mumbles.

Her eyes widen as she looks up at him. He’s so close and so attentive and she wants to ask him to kiss her because they’ve been going back and forth all day, but he’s right she’s freezing. His eyes are so intense though she can’t even maintain eye contact. Instead her gaze flits up to the droplet beginning to swell down one of his rogue strands of hair that flopped over his forehead moments ago.

She doesn’t respond as she watches and Harry begins to worry more. Her eyes seemingly unfocused, her shivering, and her silence. He thumbs over the apple of her cheekbone and finally breaks her reverie. The droplet splashing between them without her as its audience.

“C’mon,” he tugs her hand now to bring her upstairs.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fan fic #harry styles series #little border town #harry styles one shot #harry styles af #ahghsgjfgkjdfkg #literal keyboard smash #its been so long #and no one is going to read #do y'all even remember me omg

326 notes · View notes

ancientwastedlores · 3 years

Text

Undone by “Darling”

REQUEST (from @november-solarstorms): Celebrating another year of this earth being braced by Tom Hiddleston's presence! Lol. Might I make a prompt request? I feel as though it would be interesting to read from Loki's POV to explore the dynamics between him and a human female who is just as intelligent as he. She has a sharp wit and even sharper tongue. Her sarcastic and clever nature enable her to out-banter Tony Stark, the king of snark himself (may he rest in peace). But she is also just as flirtatious and salacious. She never blushes, never falters, and is incredibly clever. You can decide the nature of their encounter. Really im just in it for a good game of cat and mouse.

A/N: Okay, I had SO MUCH FUN writing this!! And yeah, this will run a bit longer than my usual fics lol. Also, there IS a Loki POV, just keep reading thaaanks <3

WARNINGS: none.

WORD COUNT: 1,932

____________________________________________________________________

Undone by “Darling”

17 hours and 6 white chocolate mochas later, it was finally ready - an upgraded version of Corvus Glaive’s glaive, this one spec-ed out to your fancies and requirements. It was a beast, and definitely not something Nick Fury would ever let you play around with, even if you made it.

Satisfied with your work, you remove your safety goggles and grin at Stark, who is working on his own weapon he scavenged from the Black Order.

‘I’m done!’ you say triumphantly, causing him to look up and groan. ‘How did you finish before me!?’ he lowers his glasses and looks at your weapon. ‘I’m smarter’ you say. ‘I went to MIT’ ‘And I didn’t, yet here we are, both in the same lab’.

He shakes his head, not unlike a petulant child, causing you to laugh.

‘How far along are you?’ you ask. ‘Still running diagnostics’. ‘Still!?’ ‘Have you seen the size of his hammer?’ he gestures to Cull Obsidian’s chain hammer on his work table, but the innuendo doesn’t escape you and you grin at him. He facepalms. ‘Y/n, for god’s sake...’ ‘You’re just tired, or you’d appreciate the joke too’.

You stretch your weary body and let out a deep breath. You’d test the weapon out tomorrow, but for now, you need a nap.

‘Take a load off, Stark. Hammer’ll be there tomorrow’. ‘Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you...’ he puts his goggles back on and get to work.

Loki’s POV:

Humans are surprising, but I always knew that. I never thought them boring, even if my brother says I do. Humans are of so little power but such incredible resilience that it’s frankly astonishing. I am inclined to believe that sometimes resilience is just stupidity... in most cases, I am right. But that’s not to say I haven’t come across some truly brave people.

Take the Avengers Tower, for example.

Just in here, you have Y/n, a brave soldier with the mind of an intergalactic scavenger, and I do mean that as a compliment. She’s awfully clever, she can build better than Stark, and has a track record of finishing every mission to perfection and before time. And then you have the Super Soldier Steve Rogers, a big muscled, big hearted idiot who often mistakes challenging our enemies for bravery and morality.

The two couldn’t be more different, but they get along like siblings. Not siblings like Thor and I... better adjusted, perhaps.

They sit in front of me, talking about some mission while they play Chess. Her moves are quick but calculated, his take more time because he’s more interested in telling his story than playing the game.

‘...so there I am, no weapons, no shield, bang in the middle of the Serpent Citadel...’

He’s a good storyteller, I’ll give him that. But not as good as Y/n. She paints quite a picture, full of delicious gory details and horribly dark jokes.

‘Steve, you have to pay attention, you’re losing’ she says. ‘Yeah, I don’t actually know how to play chess, I just wanted you to listen to my story’.

She looks up at him, almost offended. ‘STEVE...’ ‘Cool, I’m gonna go wrap Stark into a game of Battleships and tell him about my fight with Copperhead’.

She laughs as he leaves the room, and she puts the chess pieces away.

‘We could play?’ I ask her. ‘Is the God in a mood to lose?’ ‘Over confidence isn’t attractive in anybody’. ‘Oh darling, neither is telling someone what is and isn’t attractive’.

She’s never called me that before, and in the context it should seem cutting, but it isn’t. ‘Darling?’ ‘Problem?’ ‘It’s quite a term of endearment to set someone straight’.

She says nothing.

‘Cat got your tongue?’ I tease her. She only smiles and continues putting the pieces away neatly. Stark’s chess set is gold and black, all individually carved pieces. The pawns are all Iron Man suits, but that’s to be expected. She handles them with the care Stark would.

‘I mean...’ I continue, ‘honestly, if someone heard, they’d never let you live it down’.

And she carries on, unbothered.

‘Y/n!’ ‘Oh dear, look at you come completely undone with just one term of endearment’ she comments, shutting the chess set. ‘Whatever would happen if I held your hand?’

The very thought of it seemed to drain my brain of blood. I unwillingly glanced at her hands, working the lock mechanism of the box, her blue veins prominent.

‘Cat got your tongue?’ she asked.

I stood up, the human emotion of embarrassment becoming too familiar for me. ‘I’ll have to see you at lunch’. ‘Sure, darling’.

Oh, I hate how she’s enjoying this.

----------

The next day, Y/n booked a training room to test out the Glaive, and Stark had a rusty but working chain hammer. Steve insists on trying it out anyway, and now our breakfast is being spent on discouraging him from doing that.

‘Guys... if nothing else, I’ll still have my shield. Let me test it out!’ ‘Y/n’s glaive cuts through Vibranium, you know that, right?’ Stark says. ‘Y/n wouldn’t do that’. ‘Oh yes she would’ Y/n says nonchalantly as she sinks her teeth into a bacon and egg sandwich.

As she does, the yolk runs down her fingers. She makes a sound at the inconvenience and sets the sandwich down, then grabs a napkin. I’m hardly ever crude, but the energy it took not to take her hand and lick off the yolk myself could burn every star in the galaxy.

Captain America scrunches his nose at her remark, severely offended.

‘In any case, that shield barely covers your giant body. It will force Stark to make you a new one’. ‘What do you care about his giant body’ Stark says. ‘It’s America’s ass, Tony’ she takes a sip of her iced coffee. Steve blushes, and Tony rolls his eyes.

----------

The training facility is magic, of course, somewhere between a mirror dimension and Wanda’s reality powers creating a safe cocoon inside the building so no one can be harmed. Y/n hardly trusted anybody to fight with her except Thor, but given the nature of Corvus’ Glaive, she knew magic would be required.

And so she called me.

After getting into my battle armour, I stepped into the facility, equipped with my sceptre and the teachings of the witches of Asgard.

She whistles as I walk in. ‘Trying to distract me from killing you?’ ‘Are you?’ I ask. She’s dressed in a black bodysuit, details of purple in her belt and weapon harnesses. ‘Why yes, I am. Glad you noticed’.

The glaive is on the floor, and she stomps her foot on one part of it so it swivels up and neatly places itself in her hand. She smiles.

‘Try to keep up. I’m not just looking for eye candy in a training partner, darling’ she says, getting into battle stance.

With nothing left to say for the second time this week, I aim the sceptre at her and the stone at the end glows.

She charges and I shoot at her, but she spins the glaive and creates a shield which absorbs the energy.

She continues to charge at me. I shoot again, and again the glaive takes the hit. Not a scratch on her.

Once she comes closer, she simply places the flat end of the weapon against my chest, sending me hurtling back into a wall.

She spins the glaive and laughs.

‘Compliments of Wakanda. It absorbs any hits and charges up with kinetic energy’.

I get up on my feet. This is far from over. I create multiple illusions to surround her, all of them brandishing knives, Chitauri tech, and sceptres.

‘Damn, suddenly my whole evening has opened up’ she says, looking around.

Even my clones look around at each other puzzled.

‘Come on then, who’s up?’ she spins the glaive around. ‘One at a time or all at once, baby’.

They charge at her, and I expected her to fight them off at once... instead she plants the staff on the ground and ducks, and a semi-circle shell grows from the top of the staff, down to the floor... like a mini fortress, completely impenetrable. It could, no doubt, continue to take hits and build up kinetic energy, so I call off the clones.

She gets up and retracts the shell. ‘Nanotech’ she grins at me. ‘The whole shell sits in a disk. It can withstand bombs and even a moon’. ‘Is there any tech you haven’t adopted?’ ‘I’m an intergalactic scavenger, aren’t I?’

I stare at her, horrified. Can she read minds?

‘Maybe I can. Or maybe I heard you tell Stark when he was complaining about me finishing my weapon first’.

Silence.

‘Also, darling, you’re awfully predictable in your fighting’.

She picks up every trick and tech she sees, so beating her is less about weapons and more about cunning.

No problem. Cunning is my specialty.

‘Ready now?’ she asks. ‘Mhm’.

She takes a deep breath to ready herself, her eyes shutting slightly. Once they open back up, she stares in shock.

In my Jotun form, I give her my most menacing smile.

She cocks her head to the side, studying my icy blue skin.

The illusion I cast of myself approaches behind her, dagger in hand. Once it’s close enough and I can almost taste my victory, she raises the glaive and in one swift motion, sticks it into its abdomen.

The illusion disappears into green light.

‘Cute’ she remarks. She points the glaive at me. ‘What else you got for me?’ I shift back to my Asgardian form and sigh. ‘You win’.

Y/n laughs and lowers her weapon. ‘Oh darling, I won the second you walked in wearing all that leather’. She winks at me, then walks out of the facility. I feel a blush creep to my face, much against my will.

-------------

‘Maybe you should stick to your guns, Tony’ Y/n says, ‘Fancy suits is it for you, chain hammers may be overshooting it’. ‘Is that what they taught you in the back alley you learnt ironmongery from?’ ‘Yes! Do you want their number, I’m sure they’ll have a spot on the waiting list for you’.

Ah. Y/n’s relationship with Stark seemed more like mine with Thor. While they banter, Steve and Natasha tear up from laughing. I wouldn’t go so far as to call this domestic, but it certainly is comfortable.

‘Come on, the glaive can’t be that good, right Loki?’ Stark asks.

The company looks at me expectantly. ‘To say her weapon isn’t good enough means to insult your own tech, Stark. Everything about it is founded on your theories’.

‘So technically, it’s my brain that made the glaive so cool’ he tells Y/n. ‘Yeah, you could say that. The glaive comes from the same mind that manufactured Captain America’s dinner plate’.

Steve doesn’t find that one funny, but Natasha does, sending her into peals of laughter.

‘Oh whatever’ Tony huffs. ‘I’m going back to the lab’.

He stands up and Y/n grabs his arm. ‘Aww Tony, I’m just kidding!’ she pats his hand, ‘Look, you’re a brilliant inventor, we all have our slow days’.

He sighs and nods, and holds her hand. ‘Thanks... I guess I’m just not in my element, you know?’ ‘Yeah...’ she keeps patting his hand.

And the feeling of domesticity creeps in. We really are all a family. Y/n smiles encouragingly at Tony, and Tony seems more relaxed.

‘So, you want me to get you the number of that ironmongery, or...?’ ‘OH FOR...’ he snatches his arm away and storms out of the room, with Steve and Nat losing it all over again.

___________________________________________________________

Ah this was so fun!!!!!!!! I hope you guys liked it <3

MASTERLIST HERE

ASK BOX OPEN FOR FIC REQUESTS. Find GUIDELINES HERE.

#loki x you #loki pov #loki x reader #loki marvel #Marvel Avengers #avengers tower #avengers fluff #tony stark #loki fanfic #loki fluff #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston birthday #fic prompts

91 notes · View notes

ray-ray-writings · 3 years

Note

No thoughts only Princess Bride au where Sam, Dream or Sapnap (honestly any of them can work take your pick of minecraft boy) is Westley and I'm Buttercup -🍉

Oh gosh 🍉 you’re brain is so big!!!! So Imma use Dream because I have ideas….. Did I basically write the movie in this drabble just changing the names? Yes. Do I regret it? Hell no lol. I hope you enjoy!!! (I added a page break because it’s pretty long lol)

So Clay is a farmhand on your father’s farm that you are absolutely infatuated with. He does anything and everything you ask with a small smirk and an “as you wish”. As you spend more time together, you two fall in love. Clay decides that he needs to go across the sea so he can make a fortune before he can marry you. You beg him not to go, because you love him and he loves you too and that was all you need, but he goes anyway. He leaves you with a kiss on your lips and a promise to always come back for you. But he never did come back.

News came back that Clay’s ship was attacked by a powerful pirate that goes by the name Dream. The news broke your heart and you locked yourself in your room and swore you would never love again.

A few years go by and a new King is crowned. King Schlatt bumps into you one day and is stunned by your beauty and immediately declares that you will be his new partner. You try to refuse, but he has none of it. He announces to the kingdom that they will have a new member in the royal family in a few days time. But you knew you would never love Schlatt. After the announcement you went out to clear your mind on a horseback ride. You run into three men who claimed to be lost, and you with your big heart stop to help them but you quickly come to regret it as the biggest and strongest one, grabs you at a pressure point and you pass out.

When you come to, you’re on a boat and the three men are sitting around staring at you. “Oh good. You’re awake!” One of them cheers, eerily cheery for kidnappers. “I was really worried I grabbed the wrong point but you were breathing so it helped me calm down a little bit… I’m Sapnap!” The big guy introduces himself. “Sapnap!” the shortest one hisses out, “you’re not supposed to tell them our names!” “Oops. Sorry George” ‘Sapnap’ apologizes. “SAPNAP!” The one he called George, “Bad tell him that he’s an idiot!” George shrieks, turning to the third man. ‘Bad’ faces palms at the two in front of him. “Great… Just great… You both have literally told them all of our names” And even though you’re in a really bad position, you can’t help but laugh at the idiocracy of the three. “Oh gosh. If this is how you act, the King and his men are definitely going to find you and when he does, you’re going to be in for it” you laugh, rolling your eyes at the three. They seem to take a little bit of offense at what you say, but George and Sapnap begin to squabble with each other and then Bad yells at them to shut up and everything falls silent. At one point, George asks if they’re being followed and while they’re distracted you take the chance and jump over the side of the boat and begin to swim away from them. But then something brushes your leg and you freeze. “There are eels in the water! Deadly eels that are just waiting to eat you,” Bad taunts from the boat and you begin to panic. An eel creeps up beside you and before it can take a bite out of you, you’re pulled back into the boat by the strong hands of Sapnap. “Are you okay?” He asks softly after he’s sure you’re steady in the boat. You can only nod, too scared to speak. “Good… Just don’t do that again,” he scolds gently. And even though these three have kidnapped you, you can’t help but begin to grow a soft spot for the gentle giant.

Turns out you were being followed. Sapnap is forced to carry you three up the cliff as a stranger, wearing a green shirt and a white mask, begins to climb the rope behind you. Bad yells at him to climb faster, which doesn’t help, but you make it to the top before the stranger catches you and Bad cuts the rope. The stranger doesn’t fall though, just continues to climb the mountain. Bad instructs you guys to keep moving but George insists on staying behind to kill the man. Bad rolls his eyes, but let’s him and so you three run away, well Bad and Sapnap run because you’re still being carried by Sapnap.

You three watch as the stranger and George fight beautifully but at the end, the masked man comes out on top, knocking George unconscious and running toward you guys. Bad let’s out a loud yell in frustration and commands Sapnap to give you to him and then demands that Sapnap kill the man by any means necessary. Bad carries you off further down the path before sitting you down and turning to watch the battle between Sapnap and the stranger. He lets out a frustrated yell again as Sapnap is also rendered unconscious. Bad quickly blindfolds you and pulls out his knife and presses it to your throat. “If you take another step closer I’ll kill them!” You hear Bad call out to someone… the stranger. He must not stop moving because the knife gets pressed into your throat further causing you to let out a small gasp and you make an attempt to move away. You listen as the stranger makes a deal with Bad and listen as Bad debates about which cup to drink from. The cup that is laced with the powder that will knock the other unconscious and allow the one that remains awake to get away with you. You listen as Bad toasts and the two drink, and you listen as Bad boasts about being smarter than the other man, only to have his laughter cut short as he falls asleep. The blindfold is removed from your eyes and you meet the beautiful green eyes of the stranger that look very familiar, you don’t get to stare long because he moves away and cuts the binds from your wrists and legs before dragging you away.

After getting a bit away, the man pushes you into a rock and demands that you catch your breath. As you’re seated, you begin to beg with the man, asking him what he wants and that any ransom he asks he will get. The man laughs in your face and mocks you and your ‘love’. You spit at him that you do not love the King and that you have loved more deeply than he could ever understand. The man scoffs and rolls his eyes before grabbing your arm again and running again.

Once again, after a while of running, he forces you to sit and catch your breath once more. This time you confront him about his identity, “I know who you are,” you spit out, seated on the rock, “You’re Dream… admit it” The man smirks and gives you a mock bow, “Sure am Your Highness. What can I do for you?” he asks so cockily. You tell him that he can die a most slow and painful death. Dream lets out another laugh, “And why would you wish such a thing.” “Because you killed my love” He is silent for a second before shrugging, “Maybe… I’ve killed a lot of people. Who was this love of yours?” And you can’t help it, but you begin to describe him. You think of his blonde hair, his emerald green eyes, his kind smile and warm heart… Your Clay. Dream then tells you that he remembers Clay. He remembers killing him and how he didn’t beg or plead, he just accepted it but before he died, he told of you and how you were his everything. But then he got really defensive and began to shout at you, calling you faithless and mocking you for getting engaged to the King. You cannot help but scream at him, “I DIED THAT DAY!” You noticed Schlatt’s horses and claim that Dream can die too for all you care and so you push him as hard as you can down the hill. As he’s falling you hear him call the words that you’re love would always say to you, “As you wish!” Your heart aches and you begin to run toward him, only to trip and fall down the hill to.

Once at the bottom, you lay on the ground, catching your breath. As you do, Clay, his white mask now gone, moves and hovers over you. “Are you okay? Can you move?” But you don’t care about yourself at the moment, “You’re alive” you breathe out, your hand coming up to cup his face. “I told you I would come back, my love. I’m back.” and you just pull him in and press a long and passionate kiss on his lips. Five years of pain and longing and missing your lover pour into the kiss. A warmth that you haven’t felt since you kissed Clay goodbye fills your entire body and causes your toes to curl. “I love you so much” you murmur to him once he pulls back, “I love you too so much more.”

Once you two get up, you run to the fire swap. You’re a little nervous, but you know that Clay will take care of you. You ask Clay what had happened on that ship 5 years ago. Clay begins to tell you the story of how he became Dream as you two practically dance through the fire swamp. It feels so good to be back in Clay’s arms as he twirls you around trees and fire spurts that shoot up from the ground. The warmth flutters in your heart again as Clay tells you that he now plans on retiring since he found you, his true love once again. You two share a sweet moment and another kiss before you make your way through the dangerous swamp. You have some close encounters, but make it out of the swamp safely…. Unfortunately you two are not alone when you exit.

Schlatt meets you on the other side of the swamp and you begin to get surrounded by his men and you knew how this would end. “Promise you won’t hurt him if I come with you!” You shout to your fiance. Schlatt makes this promise and you turn to Clay who is looking at you in the utmost shock, “What?” he whispers. “I died the day you died Clay… I could not handle it if you died again” you whisper back to him, “I know you’ll return to me again one day” and then you’re whisked away by Schlatt back to the castle.

You mope around the castle and Schlatt notices. He blames it on the fact his father is in bad health, who dies later that night, but no one truly believes him. You begin to have nightmares as your and Schlatt’s wedding grows closer. After waking from a particularly terrible one, you run to Schaltt’s office and tell him that you don’t want to marry him, that you want to marry Clay. Schlatt surprisingly agrees, claiming to not wanting to make you unhappy or dead. He agrees to send out a letter to Dream’s ships and if Clay wants you, he can marry you but if he doesn’t to please consider marrying him to killing yourself, to which you agree.

Days go by and you hear nothing, and you walk into his room and he greets you. He tells you of what is going to happen, but he slips up and you find out that he never attempted to contact Clay. So you yell at him, you insult him, and as you tell him that Clay will always come for you because you love each other, you drive him off the metaphorical edge. He very angrily throws you into your room and locks you in there before storming off. You bang and kick at the door, trying to get out but nothing. Finally you settle yourself by the fire and begin to just think of your true love Clay.

The sun sets and you are forced to get ready for a wedding you do not wish to be a part of. Schlatt enters your room and helps you adjust your outfit. You tell him once again that Clay will save you. But you find yourself at the altar listening to a priest who you have to try really hard not to laugh at (I am literally thinking of Quackity just using one of his silly voices just officiating a wedding lol). A commotion begins to happen outside and Schlatt begins to panic silently and you can tell. So you taunt him a bit, but then he demands Quackity to call you married “partner and partner” and then you’re dragged to the honeymoon suite. You can’t help but go dumbly because you’re so shocked at the fact that you just got married to Schlatt and Clay didn’t come to save you. As you’re being escorted to your room, you make the decision that you’re going to do it. If you cannot be with the one you love, you’re going to kill yourself.

You get to the room and pull out the dagger, hold it to your chest, and just as you are about to plunge it into your chest, the sweet voice of your lover calls from behind you, “Are you sure you want to do that, love? I mean I wouldn’t be able to kiss you there if you split your chest open.” You head snaps to the bed to find Clay laying there motionless, but his eyes are trained on you. You throw the dagger on the desk before running over to Clay and throwing yourself down on top of him and kiss him over and over again. “Clay, I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.” you apologize after you pull back. His eyebrows raise at the apology, “What have you done now?” “I got married. I didn’t want to, but everything happened so fast that I did.” “It didn’t happen” “Yes it did” “Did you say I do?” “Well no but-” “Then it doesn’t count and you aren’t married. Didn’t say it, didn’t do it… Wouldn’t you say so your highness.” Clay’s eyes drift to the doorway causing yours to follow. There stands a pissed of Schlatt, “You forget one technicallity… Whatever, it will all be fixed in a moment” he declares before drawing out a sword. Then Schlatt and Clay begin a back and forth, with Clay doing most of the talking, his words just confusing Schlatt. After his epic speech, Clay slowly rises from the bed and holds a sword to Schlatt and demands that Schlatt drop his weapon. Fear now swimming in his eyes, Schlatt does everything Clay commands even sitting in a chair. Schlatt even allows you to tie him up extremely tightly.

Suddenly, George walks into the bedroom, surprising the hell out of you. “Where’s Sapnap and Bad?” Clay asks George, causing the shock and surprise to ring further in you, “I thought they were with you!” George responds. Since when were they all friends? A voice calls to you from outside the window. You and George help Clay to look outside and there you find Bad and Sapnap standing next to five white horses. “We found the stables!” Bad calls to you three. “And there were five horses and there were five of us if we found Y/N!” “Hi Y/N!!!” Sapnap interrupts waving frantically to you. A soft grin graces your face as you return the wave to the gentle giant who you def had a soft spot for now. “So we took them!” Bad finishes. You stare at each other for a while before Sapnap holds his arms out and motions to you. You giggle and step onto the window ledge and jump down, somehow completely trusting this giant and his friends who had tried to kill you. Sapnap catches you and gently puts you down on the ground before catching George and Clay too. “Hey, uhhhh… I just wanted to apologize for kidnapping you a few days ago,” Bad claims stepping forward, a sheepish look on his face. “We were just doing what we were hired too… That doesn’t make it right though and we’re sorry.” You give the man a soft smile, “It’s okay. I forgive you… What you did helped me find my love again so it was worth it in the end.” You claim as you turn and cuddle into Clay’s side. Clay grins down at you and kisses the top of your head before pecking your lips. “Alright then… Let’s get out of here.”

And so the five of you ride off and away from the castle, not really sure where you’re going. You ride for many hours before you finally feel it, the weight being lifted off of your shoulders. You stop and get off of your horses. “I think this might be a good place to settle down,” George claims looking around at the wide open area. “Yeah! I agree!” Sapnap shouts, jumping down beside him. You and Clay also hop off of your horses and move slightly away from the other three. “What do you think, love?” Clay asks quietly. You give a quick glance around before locking your gaze with his, “I think it’s perfect. I want to start our new life here… With our new friends.” A grin graces Clay’s face as his hand comes up to cup your cheek. He moves his face close to yours, so close you can feel his breath brushing against your slightly parted lips. “As you wish”

101 notes · View notes

mysticalphantussy · 3 years

Text

Obey Me! HHS!AU

an obey me AU where the boys are human going to a regular degular high school? so original lmaooo

TW: mention of sexual harassment between a teacher and a student for Asmo, physical assault(it’s self defense but just in case)

Lucifer

He’s that super smart kid that’s condescending and a bit of an asshole but he’s hot and all the girls and gays love him

He’s the valedictorian. No one even came close to beating him. Not when he’s so well decorated

He’s student council VP, he helps organize all school events, he volunteers, he tutors others, won countless awards for his prowess in chess and chemistry, and takes all AP classes

If you’ve ever seen Ouran High school host club he’s Kyoya

He’s Diavolo’s right hand man and they’ve been friends forever

Gets invited out on weekends by other students and always turns them down because he’s busy

Nobody really understands how he does it. there are rumors that he’s a vampire and doesn’t sleep

Superlative: most likely to succeed

Mammon

He’s the stereotypical class clown.

he’s not as stupid as everyone thinks he is.

He needs more of a challenge because normal classes are too easy but he’s too lazy to take honors or AP because he enjoys having free time

Math is his strongest subject

He’s on the track team, he’s good in all individual events and is the last leg(person?) in the baton race because he’ll make up any time deficits

Nicknamed “the hurricane” because he’s the fastest person on the team and his hair is white

Only when his coach threatens to boot him from the team because of his grades does he get his life together and makes the honor roll. Everyone was shocked

Very competitive. Hates losing and won’t accept anything less than gold

Fashion icon. Pierced ears, leather jacket, combat boots. Surprisingly doesn’t ride a motorcycle. He also lives in his captains jacket on comfier days

Mammon’s always dating either a cheerleader or a football player

He’s a bit of a flirt, but he’s not as bad as someone we know

Superlative: class clown

Levi

WEEB

He’s not that weird kid that’ll Naruto run to his classes but he does wear anime tshirts to school everyday

He is the president of the schools anime club. He gathers his fellow weebs in the auditorium and they watch anime on the projection screen once a week

He’s in theater but he’s too nervous to perform so when play season rolls around he makes the costumes and shocks everyone with how amazing he is

He cosplays and he makes every thing himself, of course he’s amazing

He’s just really good with his hands in general. He’s an amazing artist and sculptor

The art teacher has requested less anime inspired art pieces and sculptures but still encourages him and his passions

His anime club friends mean the world to him

Gym class is mandatory but he sits out because he has “terrible” asthma

Has gotten his phone taken away in class for watching anime instead of paying attention

Superlative: most likely to survive the zombie apocalypse

Satan

He’s #2 behind Lucifer and the gap may be getting smaller due to his efforts

He may or may not have brought a cat to school once or twice

a lot of people think he’s a bit of an asshole, and they’re right

he knows he’s smarter than most and has a tendency to talk down to others... he’s working on that

don’t mention anything good about Lucy around him unless you wanna see him explode

he’s a nerd, 100% eats his lunch in the library

he’s the president of the book club

Don��t fuck with him. He may be a book nerd and a lot of people don’t know about his temper but...

He’s actually quite fit. He’s a boxer, it helps him channel his anger

The foolish people that try to pick on him end up with broken noses if he doesnt hold back.

He also knows to never hit anyone without witnesses so the teachers know the punch was justified

Superlative: most likely to take over the world

Asmo

One of the 2 male cheerleaders

The most flexible out of the entire squad

He’s a Flyer

Has flirted with every one on the squad on numerous occasions

They know he’s a flirt so they know not to take it to heart

He’s dated every football player and basketball player at least twice, except Beel. Not because Asmo didn’t try but because Beel said he looked like a handful 😂

Flirts with teachers too if it means he can get a good grade

He’s a bad student. He spends class time talking to classmates, texting or playing games on his phone

He does the bare minimum to stay on the squad(perfect 2.0GPA 😂)

Senior year, the history teacher enjoyed Asmo’s flirting a lil too much and tried to take it too far... it didn’t turn out well

Cheerleaders are athletes and while Asmo may look weak he’ll fuck you up

He knows that people think he’s weak so he takes martial arts

Not a lot because while he likes guys with big muscles he doesn’t think they suit him

Anyway, he grabbed that teachers hand and lowkey crushed it

That teacher never tried that again and gave Asmo an A all year(no the teacher wasn’t fired. You know how America is with males and sexual harassment, big yikes)

Superlative: biggest flirt and cutest couple with Solomon

Bubzie

Star quarterback on the American football team

Start forward on the basketball team

Strong AF

intimidating to freshman who’ve never seen someone that’s 6’4 and hella muscular

Carries his school stuff in his sports bag and snacks in his backpack

The lunch ladies love him, they give him extra large portions

He really is just a big teddy bear. The freshman usually steer clear but he helps them if they look lost and they realize he’s a nice person. Just tall, and strong

In the hall of fame for most 3-pointers in a single game

Also for the most sacks in football

Pretty good student as long as he’s got a snack so he can focus. When he’s hungry he falls asleep until the bell rings so he can hit up his locker for a snack or run to the vending machine

Will one hundred percent use a bathroom trip as an excuse to go buy something from the vending machine

Superlative: most likely to eat an entire buffet by himself

Belphie

That one emo-kid with the black hair covering one eye, black eyeliner, black shirts and ripped jeans

He’s also known for unintentionally intimidating the freshman

He listens to heavy metal and hates “cookie cutter” pop music

Always asleep in class. Always. Teachers don’t even bother trying to wake him up anymore

Everyone is genuinely shocked that he has all As and aces every test even though he’s always half asleep

He and Beel became friends when Beel was working out in the weight room and Belphie was looking for a place to nap and heard the band Beel was listening to and got excited

He never thought any of the lames at this school would know who SlipKnot was and the rest is history.

Beel makes sure to get Belphie lunch when he fired through the line otherwise he won’t eat

Nobody knew Belphie could smile until he and Beel became friends (my chest 🥰☺️)

If he sees anyone looking at him when smiling he’ll immediately start scowling again

Belphie will nap on the bleachers while Beel practices and then they’ll go get something to eat afterwards

He’d kill you if you ever found out, but he’s never had a real friend and he loves Beel more than anything.

People don’t understand that they’re really just friends, more like brothers tbh. They joke that Beel could be his big tiddy goth gf 😂

Beel knows belphie’s number 1 secret: he’s trained in classical ballet (his leaps are unmatched)

Superlative: most likely to burn the house down and unlikely combo with beel

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me levi #I think I’ll do the undateables soon too

66 notes · View notes

steve0discusses · 3 years

Text

S5 Ep8: The Saga of Grandpa Muto’s Mysterious Broken Ass

Getting ready to eat some Devlin eggs this Easter Sunday, feeling festive, and I figured it’s time to post this one a little earlier. Also, because it’s done, which I wasn’t expecting. It’s a slightly longer episode this time, but still, eh, pretty short.

We’ve come off of the very predictable, but still kind of disappointing downfall of Joey Wheeler, and onto a Rebecca arc. Which I’m sure won’t be annoying at all.

The lesser Roland--who’s name I do not know, but the one that wears the weirder sunglasses and seems way smarter than Roland, but clearly isn’t the favorite--lets us know that Zigfried has been going by an alternate identity for years and years. Which like...who cares? It’s not like the Kaibas have always been Kaibas. This is old hat to them.

So Seto sets him off on a quick bribe run, opening a list of different politicians and saying “Oh, this one’s super easy, go for it--he’s in my ass pocket, this guy. Hate this guy.” and it was...that easy for Seto to glide right into that Gozaburo lifestyle that he insists he totally doesn't do anymore. But youknow, with Seto Kaiba there really isn’t any good or bad just win or lose.

On the other end of the park, the choo-choo blue eyes white dragon train pulls in from death mountain, and once again the seating arrangement was really mystifying. Yugi in the very front, all alone. Tea sitting next to Tristan for some reason. Duke sitting next to Joey Wheeler, when I’m pretty sure Duke is probably the least comforting person in this entire group.

In fact all Duke had to say to comfort Joey was “you lost because you went up against a professional duelist!” and it’s like...at what point do you become a “professional duelist?” The game is fake. How many times do you have to save the world before you’re a “professional duelist,” Duke?

Course...maybe he has to get a high school diploma first...

Anyway, Joey spent the last part of this ride sobbing into the seats next to Duke Devlin while everyone else went “weee!” around the...molten pools of lava in this literal volcano that the Kaibas are pretty sure are a really good idea.

(read more under the cut)

Speaking of loss.

Grandpa Hawkins runs over to inform us that not only is no one watching his Grandaughter, but also, he lost a grown ass man because he decided to look for a doctor, couldn’t find a doctor, did watch Rebeccas match for a little while, listened to the part where she was like “I dedicate this match to my true love and boyfriend Yugi Muto with this sonnet I just wrote” and was like “normal thing to say!” and then finally found a doctor, who was like “well he’s not here so clearly he’s cured!” and charged Hawkins a bill despite Grandpa being no where to be found.

I can’t imagine the review that Hawkins is going to leave on Yelp.

Stepping away from thinking that Grandpa ditched his date with Hawkins to go on another date with some random theme park hussie, Yugi decides to ditch Rebecca, because he has way too many fake relationship plotlines in this group to juggle in his already double-stuffed brain.

And Rebecca takes it as if she kind of assumed this would happen.

Also in the actual canon of the show, Hawkins did not tell her that Grandpa was missing, or that Yugi would probably not be coming. Man these people love lying out their ass.

Speaking of being just completely flat on your ass, which happens so much this episode, they stumble upon Leon, who once again kind of comes out of the last place you expect and goes “Hello guys, I regret to inform you I still exist and I really need you to start noticing me already. I swear I will become plot relevant any day now. Please don’t forget I exist.”

...The Kaibas sure did make a tiny town. That sure is the only thing here.

Straight up, the Kaibas don’t know what fun is, and that is canon. And when I look across this landscape, I can only think of that one scene in Arrested Development where they made a very tiny city to convince investors that their housing development was actually legit and very real. And like I feel like the Kaibas would absolutely do that, too.

It’d be good for the gram...but this was before social media was a thing so what is this for?

I mean Leon sure the hell doesn’t know.

Local sad boy genius, Leon, here to get ignored by Rebecca despite being exactly her age, just like other local sad boy genius, Mokuba.

I really called it when I gave him Mai’s font color, huh? Good that even when Mai isn’t here, we can still have a chronically friendless character. But he is like...a lot more adorable than Mai was. Leon is just a lot more likeable. And again--really good hair color. Helps that he doesn’t want to constantly murder Joey Wheeler for no reason.

These kids came out of nowhere and can I just say it’s a really good thing someone woke Leon the hell up before the cameras arrived because that would have been SHOCKING if they all thought he was dead.

I love this boat.

Also Joey makes this observation and it was really funny the way he said it:

The sign that hangs above the park entrance that says “no one kidnapped in 1 days” flips back to 0.

I mean, we all know it’s Vivian, because it’s this global tournament where everyone is defined by stereotypes. But, I want to know how she got the panda stationary. That’s pretty good. There’s a side of me from my 11 yo self that never got over my sanrio phase collecting cute stationary with matching stickers and jelly pens to write 1 (one) letter and stuff it into a friend’s locker (and then have them say they cannot read my handwriting) and that part of me loves panda stationary.

Like if I got matching stationary with like...the matching stickers on it...in my ransom letter...damn that’s like seriously sentimental stuff. I’d feel a little ambiguous about that.

This town is the exact size that California was last season where you could just leap skip from Death Valley to San Fransisco.

And later we are...one step closer to Vivian. And if it’s not, and it’s actually like Bandit Keith on the other side of this door, I will be very happily surprised and this will be my favorite arc.

Also...please note that Joey is still wearing this duel disk after he’s completely done dueling.

Joey, please. It’s over, Joey. You live that Duke Devlin life now, retire the disk.

Anyway, until next time, this is the link to read these from the first to the latest:

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

#yugioh #yu gi oh #ygo #episode recap #photo recap #S5 #Ep8 #joey wheeler #yugi muto #rebecca hawkins #leon wilson #seto kaiba #mokuba kaiba #grandpa muto #is abducted again #arthur hawkins #tristan taylor #duke devlin #tea gardner

32 notes · View notes

akvtsuki-ari · 4 years

Text

Be Mean

Warnings: smut, femdom, degradation, sub!spencer, mild masochism, choking, generally mean shit lol

Length: 5.3k (ik)

Authors Note: uhh happy valentines day! not the fic anyone was expecting today and extremely self indulgent but valentines day is about self love too right? lmfao anyways, hope yall enjoy

Summary: Spencer was just a little too into the way you cuss people out and it was starting to weigh on him. You’re more than happy to help him out.

Words were falling from your lips with grace. Your back was straight as you leaned into the table - the unsub just inches away. He was a narcissist, and his hatred for strong women became increasingly clear the moment you stepped into the room. He wanted to prove he was smarter, tougher, and better than you - but the challenge you reproached him with left his knuckles white. Teeth gritted, jaw clenched, and that same grace - analyzing and cold, never seemed to escape you.

It didn’t take long for the arrest to fall through - his confession leaving him as he tried to express his pathetic anger towards you. He called you names but nothing creative, not as smart as he seemed to be but you couldn’t help but laugh at him. Soon after he delves into explaining his own genius and the pieces continued to fall together - it was a good case and luckily he didn’t get far after his first 3 victims. Not something that the BAU gets lucky with very often, you think.

Spencer watched you in the interrogation - eyes fading over your body language carefully. You were unnervingly confident - always were no matter whether it was a killer or not. He took notice of many little things that seemed to make the details of your existence culminate further in his mind. You licked the inside of your lip when you were getting close to breaking the unsub, and your eyes would get a little lower when he started to speak. You rolled your shoulders when you watched him get escorted and that warm, sweet version of you returned to you with no trouble at all.

It was easy for people to call you BAU’s resident sweetheart. You were charming, witty, and intelligent but also kind. When the team needed someone who people can trust, you were always up there on the list. Your skills of diffusion were particularly helpful, you worked homeland security for a long while and it showed. Your capabilities to ease a tense moment as well as interrogate a criminal in a provocative way has proved helpful time and time again - but who you were was always up in the air. It was a valuable trait to be mysterious in that sense.

On one hand, Spencer really did like plain Y/N more than anything. You were always particularly kind to Spencer - you remembered his birthday and always texted him right at 12 beating the entire BAU, even Garcia. You brought him soup and cold medicine when he was sick because you were close by and he needed some company. You helped him babysit JJ’s kids because you could and you were fond of them. You were never too impatient and you let him work in silence rather than making commentary about his process. You just got him, and it all seemed to come naturally though you knew things someone could only figure out through careful observation.

Y/N the Agent was different, though. Still you, when she needed to be. Any cases involving young children, or innocent people in general really showed the other side of you. But you had this moment in every case, where your hyperfocus became so sinister everyone in the department could feel it. They were different sides of the same coin, your traits manifesting themselves in different ways but Spencer had a very particular notice of it. For one, it fascinated him a lot. How could anyone not be fascinated by that?

Of course though, that wasn’t the only reason but the other half of this whole spiel was a lot more embarrassing but -

Spencer got unbelievably turned on when he watched you interrogate criminals and - listen he knows okay? He really understands how absolutely not good that is but the memory is so burned into his brain he can’t help but think about it every time it comes up.

The team was in Arizona working on ritualistic killings from a small tribe, native to the area. You and Reid had been assigned to talk to important community members and there was a head elder dude there who was particularly scummy - though not the unsub. He was too cocky to pull off such elaborate and patient murders so he was ruled out early but he was hiding something and you needed to know what it was. When interrogations went on, you confronted the man about his use of testosterone injections - something forbidden in the community since they believed modern medicine was extremely harmful, part of the killers M.O.

The conversation between the two of you was short-lived but memorable, to say the least.

“What happened, elder? Were the village girls not working for you anymore so you sicked your friend on them cause you couldn’t get it up? Was it worth it?,” your voice was thick with distaste and the elder lost his shit. He ended up confessing that he had a strong hunch but he’d only tell if they kept his secret and the lead was correct.

Spencer's mind hasn’t been able to let go of that moment and every single time a case comes up where you have to confront someone he finds himself having to relieve himself in a bathroom stall or strain himself to get it to just go away. It was killing him really. He had a crush on you sure, always has but his body reacting like he was a 16-year-old boy every time you spoke was not going to cut it but he didn’t know what to do either.

He finds himself in that same position now, on the plane ride home with the thought of you and your demeanor keeping him from focusing. You were asleep across from him, wearing comfortable clothes that slid just over your shoulders. He couldn’t help the way his eyes lingered on his skin and he tried his absolute best to ignore and go to sleep.

When Spencer Reid arrived home, he was pleasantly surprised to see messages from you, asking to hangout in his apartment while your kitchen gets renovated. There was no way in hell he was gonna say no to that, so he tidied his things up and ordered thai food while he waited for your arrival.

It didn’t take long for you to show, wearing black joggers and a tight tanktop that Spencer has never seen you in before. It looked good on you, accentuating the strength in your shoulders in back. He knew you were decently fit but this was surprising, even for him. You smiled wide as you stepped through the door, giving Spencer a tight hug. He can feel your boobs pressed up against his chest and he wants to kick himself for the shiver that runs off his spine as if he were a teenager again.

“Hey, Spence. Thanks again for letting me come over today, hope I’m not intruding,” you say softly, as you settle down on Spencer's couch, phone in hand. He nods, smiling.

“It’s no problem. The food should be here in a minute but do you want a glass of water or anything in the meantime? I also have some lemonade, if you want that,” Spencer offers. You readjust and Spencer watches the way your muscles tense. He shouldn’t be noticing something like that yet here he is.

“Lemonade sounds great, thanks Spence,” you say, laying into the couch as you scroll through your phone. Spencer excuses himself to the kitchen, grabbing glasses from his cupboard and filling them up with lemonade before returning to you. He places the glasses on the table in front of you, before the sound of the doorbell alerts him.

You get up, retying your hair as the smell of Thai food hits you. You let out an involuntary moan but Spencer just laughs. The food is set up in front of you, but its far too hot for either of you to eat so the both of you sip on your lemonade and chat instead.

“Everytime we get a few days off, the paranoia of a case hits the ground running,” you complain, gently. Spencer laughs, nodding his head.

“Oh definitely. I can’t imagine what it’s like not thinking about it all the time, though,” he explains. You nod your head in agreement.

“Yeah, but time off is still time off so the plan is to spend the weekend alone with a glass of wine and some romantic films and relax,” you explain, sighing. Spencer looks at you curiously.

“Didn’t take you for the romance type,” he states curiously. You sigh again, looking at him.

“I’m not for the most part, it kinda serves a different purpose for me than most women I’d argue,” you reply to him. Spencers intrigued by your comment and sits up a bit.

“How so?,” he poses carefully. You place your lemonade down on the coffee table and scratch the back of your neck.

“Don’t get me wrong, I like being wined-and-dined like any woman. Romance itself is nice, love is wonderful - but the way I wanna be romanced isn’t exactly traditional,” your voice is airy when you speak, laughing at yourself but the revelation maes Spencers weak.

“Traditional?,” he manages to squeak out. You notice his shift in behavior, and you slow down for a moment.

“We don’t have to talk about that kinda stuff, Spence. It’s more of a girls night thing I’d talk about with Garcia and JJ - though they already know about most of it,” you say lightly. Spencer chokes a bit as you continue to reveal details.

“No, it's not that. I’m… interested?,” he says nervously, chewing the inside of his lip. You tilt your head, surprised by his curiosity.

“Didn’t take you for a freak, pretty boy,” you comment, giggling. Spencer's face turns hot, but you reassure him you’re only kidding.

“Yeah, I don’t know. I don’t really care for the whole subservient role, especially not in bed. I enjoy seeing someone do what I say, and having things go my way. I’ve always been like that, figured that out with my first highschool boyfriend, hah,” you say, sipping your lemonade.

Spencer swallows at the realization that you’re probably experienced, very experienced in that department. He shifts in his set again and your eyes settle on him for a moment, neither of you making eye contact but rather observing each other

“I don’t know how to explain it all that well, but I like it when I can be just a little mean, you know,” you say, smiling. Your tone is joking but your words have weight to them. Spencer's throat is closing up as you speak but he smiles back at you fondly. You take notice but hold yourself back.

“You sure you’re okay, Spencer?,” your voice is different this time. Knowing. Spencer's eyes flutter over to you and he’s aware rather suddenly of your being. The way your chest rises and falls as you speak, the smoothness of your lips around the glass, the way your hair falls over your face. He nods as you observe him. Your lips twitch up into a smile.

“Spencer, could it be resident boy genius is a sub?,” you say incredulous. Spencers whole face flushes and you find your clit up at attention at the non-verbal confession.

While he may be oblivious to it, you had a rather massive crush on Spencer. Something about his intelligence was remarkably sexy to you and knowing he was also a good person didn’t make the feelings any easier. Who could blame you for having a crush on Spencer, anway? Most people did - it was part of the reason you never told him. Based on his personality and dating history - it didn’t really seem like you were his type. You weren’t massively intelligent or particularly unique (at least you didn’t think so) so you couldn’t imagine Spencer having a crush on you. You were great, but you didn’t think you were Spencers type, thats all.

However, that didn’t stop you from thinking about him - really the opposite. Every waking moment you’d catch him doing something absentmindedly you cute - your brain begged to see him fucked out and sleepy. He’d ramble about something for so many minutes and all you wanted to do was sit on his face and shut him up (and then let him continue because he was honest to god so cute like that)

The point was that Spencer really did something to you. You had countless lingering thoughts about him but to know that this was actually something he was into made your head spin. You couldn’t hold your expression back and maybe it was your own masochism that made you want to know more but god did you want to know more.

“How long have you known about yourself, Spence?” you interrogate. Spencer swallows and prays to every deity his mind can manage as he looks at you pleadingly but you can’t recognize what the pleading is really for.

“How long have you been on the team?,” Spencer speaks before he can really understand the weight of his words, and the second he says the whole room stops. You look at him with delighted surprise and he shuts his eyes at contempt for his own existence.

“No fucking way,” you can’t help the little inhale you do at the realization. Pure excitement just emanating from your being like nobody's business. You were genuinely going to lose your mind at this revelation. Spencer Reid discovered that hes a sub because of you? Were you dreaming?

If this wasn’t Spencer's apartment he would’ve run away. He just had to look at you instead and face the fact he just revealed his own sins. Your laugh at Spencer revelation made the little nagging voice in Spencers head just a little louder and that meant that -

“You’re really into whatever you’ve been thinking of huh?,” you say, eyeing the hard-on in his pants casually. Spencer looks down and places a pillow on his lap, wishing to throw his entire existence into a fire and to never ever look back.

“Shit,” he doesn’t know what else to say. He’s at total wits end with himself and is forced to deal with the repercussions of his horniness.

On the other hand there was you, eyes full of delight as your mind raced with all the thoughts of what Spencer could be thinking about. Anything was good really, any level of him giving up his control to you was good. It all worked for you but whatever he’d been thinking about specifically had you itching to know.

“What could it be? I mean - seriously, I have to know what has the beloved Doctor this flustered. You have to tell me,” you say smiling. Spencer just shakes his head.

“Aww c'mon, do you want me to start guessing?,” you joke. Spencer looks at you that time and you realize that might be key. You look at him in surprise.

“Okay, well let’s think. It started when we worked together which means it was probably when we were in the field,” you start profiling Spencer, which on one hand he’s not a fan of but on another he’s a little turned on by.

You chew on your lip as you think for a minute.

“The work I do on the field sorta depends, but mostly I diffuse situations,” you say softly, really to only yourself. “But also, I do a lot of interrogations, and with the way you reacted to that whole being mean thing, I’m gonna go ahead and place my bets on that,” you conclude. You look to Spencer for approval and his eyes are hazy as he nods a yes.

You place your glass on the table, and move in front of Spencer. Normally your height isn’t all too important to him but right now your being towers over him and all he can do is look up at you. You wish you had the patience to do a little bit more teasing but you couldn’t hold back too much. Your knee is between his legs as you bend it and lean over him. Your fingers brush his hair back for a moment as you use your knuckle to pull his face up. He wants to refuse but he can’t so he lets you - looking at you tenderly. He’s cute like this.

“Spence, you know I actually like you right?,”

“No,”

You laugh lazily. Your hands on the side of his face, brushing your thumb along his cheek as you look at him adoringly.

“I like you a whole lot, probably a lot more than like - actually. So whatever we do after this - if you want to do something anyways, it’s because I actually like you,” you say softly. Spencer nods, blush staining his cheeks.

“I - uh, like you too,” he says warmly. You chew your lip.

“Can I kiss you, Spencer?,” the way you ask makes Spencer's heart melt. This was you, all at once. No sides of any coins, still kind and warm and thoughtful, but still mean and intimidating in the way Spencer likes. He wants to scream yes, but he nods instead.

You brush your lips over his for a second, smiling as he moves forwards to gain some contact. You don’t hesitate to kiss him forreal that time, lips pressed to his as your hand lays at the base of his necks, fingers pressing into his throat as he sighs. Your lips are warm, your touch is soft and Spencer could cry with how gentle you treat him. You pull away and brush your nose against his.

“For someone who kisses like that, I’m surprised you’re so into the idea of being degraded,” you chuckle. Spencer coughs and just looks at you shyly.

“Yeah, I really am,” his voice is hoarse.

You straddle yourself in Spencers lap and move the pillow. All the sudden contact makes his skin flush and he looks at you needy. Your pants are loose but your tank top is tight, and he finds his eyes looking at your chest before he can think about it. You roll your eyes at him, leaning into his neck to press a kiss on it. He whimpers and you smile - he really is desperate.

“Perv,” you murmur to him.He laughs.

“Can’t say you’re wrong,”

“Before we go any further, I wanna give you a safe word. I wouldn’t normally be doing something like this the first time for the purposes of semantics but I want you too badly to wait that long. I want to make sure it doesn’t get to be too much for you, in a bad way at least,” you say softly. Spencer looks at you and kisses you, and you laugh.

“We can do Red for Stop, Yellow for Slow Down, and Green for Go,” you explain warmly. He nods.

“Okay,” he says it back to you as he buries his face in your neck. You pet his hair and place a kiss on his head.

“Tell me what you want, angel,” you say first. Your voice is smooth like silk, the word angel rings out in his mind. It’s too pretty for what he wants you to do and maybe that's why he likes it so much. The juxtaposition to be something so pretty when all he wants you to do is ruin him.

He wants so much all at once he has trouble verbalizing any of it. It’d come out so incoherent even if he tried but he wants it, whatever the case may be. He feels your hands on his chest while you stare him down. He makes eye-contact and when he tries to look down again your hands force his chin up.

“Gotta look at me when you say it, baby. Otherwise, I won’t know who you’re talking too,” you say thoughtfully. Fuck - thats hot. Spencer swallows and nods, looking into your eyes as his mind racks itself with possibilities.

“Wanna fuck you,” he can’t believe how it sounds. He has so much more that he wants - he wants to fuck you while you absolutely take away his ability to cum. He wants to hear your voice when you talk down to him about it - about how hard he is when you get like this, and about how dirty he must really be. He wants to hear you threaten him with the possibility of being blue-balled hanging over his head. He wants you to be so fucking mean to him because he knows it doesn’t matter - he knows all the choice is yours and he really does love to please you and he knows he’s quite the masochist for it. He doesn’t care.

“I think you wanna do a little bit more than fuck me, Spence,” you giggle. Your eyes turn a shade darker as your hand moves to his throat. His hands are planted to his sides as your grip tightens around his neck - voice cold as you whisper into his ear.

“I think you want me to fuck you instead, yeah? Watch your teeth sink into your lips while I sit on your dick and make fun of you for how easy you twitch when I move. You’re so easy, Spencer,” the words leave your mouth and spill like wine. The words stain his whole mind with lust - absolutely aching to hear more. Fuck did he want that.

“Take your shirt off,” you don’t ask. He does so without warning and his eyes beg you do the same.

“I’ll take mine off when you’ve earned it, unzip your pants,” you reply nonchalant. He holds back a whimper and does so, his cock stiff against his boxer-briefs. You stand up and slide your pants off and your wearing boy-shorts, making Spencer sigh.

He looks up at you pleadingly, and you smile at him. You walk up to him again and smile, as he looks up at you. You let him lay his head on your stomach as he looks at you, your fingers tucked into his curls.

You tug them as you force him to look up at you. He groans from his throat as your other hand is placed on the side of his face. His eyes are weary as he looks at you. Your hands threaten to place a hit on him.

“You should get all that begging under control before there's a handmark on that pretty face of yours love,” you say softly. He looks at you with challenge.

“I don’t think I can, miss,” he says softly. You want to kiss him but you refrain.

“Color?,”

“Green”

You lift your hand and place a firm hit on Spencer's cheek. He relishes in the pain, the demand your fingers have in them. You command respect and he knew it deep in him. He groans at the feeling.

“Didn’t take you for the type,” your commentary is sly like Spencer likes it. It’s mean in a witty way, not degrading just to do it. It fits perfect with your demeanor and Spencer adores it.

You grab a stool from near one of Spencer bookshelves and place it between his legs. You’ve picked up tie from the ground while you sit yourself in front of him

“Stand up and turn around, and put your hands together behind your back,” you say, voice laced with faux boredom. Spencer does as told as you tie his hands together. You stare at him like that, taking note at his figure. He’s slim and it’s cute to you.

You pull his boxers down and spit into your hand, reaching around to wrap your hands around his cock. He hisses at the feeling, finding his hips rutting into them. He was so desperate for it.

“There's so much to do with you, I don’t even know where to start,” you sigh. Spencers mind races as your hand moves across him, wrapping around his length tight and letting your thumb run over his slit - just so you could feel how it twitched.

“I could make you cum like this, facing away from me - too focused on being degraded to care. You’d still get off on that wouldn’t you, angel?,” you say warmly. You stand up and place your hands under his chin. He looks down at it.

“Spit,”

He does as told. You drip it across his length and he shivers as you take him back into your pals, fingers curled tightly around his base while your other hand plays with his nipples. Your thumbs flick across them carefully and he whimpers, knees nearly folding at the sensation of pleasure.

“You don’t seem like one for visuals but maybe it’d be more fun for me if I fucked myself in front you with your hands behind your back. All of what would be on your dick, slick on my fingers instead. If I were nice, I’d let you taste me,” you muse. Spencer throws his head back at your words.

“Or maybe that type of torture isn’t your cup of tea. What’d you prefer Spencer? You cum so many times you nearly pass out from all the pleasure? At the end of all that, you’d have been so ruined that you’d have nothing to show for it when you came. Your whole body aching pleasure but with nothing left to give,” your thoughts come to you in phases but to Spencer the sound like holy scripture. Dry orgasms sound painful but Spencer was certainly intrigued.

“I wonder if you’d cry for me, baby. When your dick gets all red and sensitive and it hurts, would I have to wipe the tears off your pretty face? Sounds nice,” your voice is light and makes Spencer want to smile. He didn’t take you for that much of a sadist but he finds himself pleasantly surprised by the revelation

Your grip on his shaft tightens rather suddenly and Spencer whimpers. His voice is shaky, bare chest rising and falling at the feeling of your hands gripped around him.

“Fuck, please,” Spencer begs you to ease up but he doesn’t really want you too. You sigh, placing a kiss on his back.

“Please, what? You want me to stop?,” you ask, knowing damn well that it was the opposite. He shakes his head.

“Please let me fuck you, please,” the need in Spencer's voice was rather nice. You pull your hand off and tell Spencer to lay down on the couch. He does so without question but aches with how much he misses your touch. He moved against his restraints to try and get some friction but no luck.

He watches you as you pull down your underwear, giving him a view to how wet you are. A slick spot just sitting between your thighs, pretty as can be. Spencer's throat is dry, the urge to touch you sending his mind into agony.

“You talk too much,” your actions speak louder than words as you position yourself over Spencer's face. His neck cranes up to get a taste of you, tongue flatly along your slit trying to get some friction. You groan at the feeling, as Spencer laps at you. Flicking his tongue back and forth along your clit, curling around before sucking it into his mouth for a few seconds at a time.

“Jesus, Spencer,” you moan out to him, finger gripping in his hair. He wished he could verbalize how grateful he was, but he tried his best to show it instead. He could do this all day if you let him, and if his hands were free he’d wrap them tightly around your hips so you’d lean more weight on him. You could break his neck, honestly. It wouldn't matter to him, the way you had him feeling.

You grind your hips, rutting against Spencer's tongue as you ride yourself closer to orgasm. The sound of you getting off mixed with the taste of you on his tongue made Spencer feel like he was living off of you and he didn’t mind. You were so good to him.

“I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you,” is the last words you say before you cum all over Spencer face. Riding your orgasm out, you move and look down at Spencer, face flush. He smiles at you, absolutely ecstatic and you can’t help but laugh.

“I’ll untie you now, you did so good for me baby,” you praise softly, untying Spencer's hands. The first thing he does is sit up and wrap his arms around your waist. He places kisses along your naval as you pet his hair. He looks up at you, your orgasm still clear on his face. You cup his jaw and kiss him, just a little messy.

“You're soft, baby,” you note. He nods, seeming sleepy already and you wanna coo at him. He looks up at you again and shakes his head.

“Be mean to me, please,” his voice is shaky. You’re surprised, leaning down to give him a kiss on the forehead before you agree.

“Sit back,” you demand. He does so without question as you straddle his lap. He can feel his tip brushing back and forth between your folds as you look at him adoringly, face full of affection mixed with an urge to give him what he’s so kindly asked for.

You wrap your hands around his neck as you sink down on Spencer cock. It stretches you out slowly, wrapped tightly around Spencer. He hits your cervix with ease. His breathing is labored, his hand holding your wrist as you choke him.

“Look at you, my love. I’m taking your breath away, and you're giving it up to me just like that? You want me to wreck you that badly huh? I didn’t take your for such a slut,” you utter that last word with false confidence but the way Spencer adores every second of it gives you real confidence instead. He could cum right then and there - hearing you call him a slut makes him feel something rather unexpected. It’s an ultimate powerplay, because the both of you know that right now he’s only giving it up for you, but it implies something so much greater. He likes it so much, likes the sound of bombarding him with pleasure and degradation that when he moans, voice strained as the column of his neck gets squeezed - he doesn’t really know how to stop himself from saying again.

“You like being a slut for me baby?,” you ask, bouncing up and down on Spencer cock, feeling the way he twitches in you. You let go of his throat, and he coughs before looking at you softly. His fingers run over the feeling of your hands. Your mouth moves to his neck instead, marking hickies into it as he holds onto your hips and fucks into you. He nods his head yes at your question.

“You’re so needy, love,” you remark, pulling back and using your fingers to rub your clit as Spencer fucks into you. You cum again a second time, convulsing around Spencer's length as you moan his name.

“Please, please can I cum?,” Spencer asks politely. You’d love to tease him more, but you figure it may be too much for him so you just nod. You kiss him softly.

“Anywhere you wanna finish?,” you ask. He looks immediately at your chest. You take off your tank top and bra and get on your knees for Spencer as he finishes on your chest, voice groaning your name.

“Y/N - fuck, oh my god,” His eyes are shut in pleasure and you can’t help but smile at him. When he comes down from his high and sees you stood up, looking for your clothes - he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you and pull you down to the couch. You giggle as he does.

“You did so good for me, baby. You’re such a good boy,” the praises fall from your lips with ease as Spencer mutters a flushed thank you. You reach to the table for a tissue as you wipe the cum off of your chest, making Spencer snort.

You turn around to be facing Spencer, naked bodies just holding each other. You play with Spencer's hair pressing constant kisses into his shoulders, or on his forehead. Anywhere you can get them really.

“It’s time for aftercare soon, but we can sit here a little longer if you like. Just no sleeping until we’ve showered and eaten and you’re taken care of, okay?,” you say lovingly, tucking Spencer's hair back behind his ear. He smiles at you softly, the feeling of being pampered like that holding him close.

“Hey, Y/N,” he looks at you with adoration “Will you please be my girlfriend? Cause I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you,” he says with sincerity. You can’t help but chuckle as you kiss him slowly.

“Yes, Spence, of course. I’m in love with you too, by the way,” you say back. Spencer simply smiles, hugging you tight and hoping to never let you go.

______

taglist: @cynbx @skrrrrrrrrrrt @zephyr-studiesjp @reid-187

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #sub!spencer #sub!spencer reid #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds self insert #spencer x reader #criminal minds x reader #this is so self indulgent #i do think spencer is a sub though through and through #switch leaning sub imo #feel free to ask me about it i can analyze it in great depth bc i think about That Much #author is trash anyways #hope someone else like this at least

1K notes · View notes