#thought he was Significantly older than me but he is only four years older than me and not the estimated six. so it's not that bad | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nattikay · 11 months

Text

Jake is a Good Dad and I will Die On That Hill

Howdy Avatar fandom. Over the past six months or so I’ve seen a lot of criticism directed toward Jake Sully as a father, ranging from him simply being a little too strict at best, to outright neglectful and even abusive at worst. This, my friends, is some grade-A nonsense, and today we’re gonna talk about why. Strap in, lads, this is gonna be a long one. Let’s roll.

So before we get into breaking down the events of the main storyline, let’s address the idea that Jake was always the super-strict “military dad” throughout the kids’ lives: put simply, bullcrap.

Out of the film’s over-three-hour runtime, we get to see very little of the Sullies’ lives before the RDA’s return—only about six minutes’ worth. If Jake was meant to be this strict militaristic dictator during this time period, especially in a way that would significantly impact the kids’ character development and their relationships with him, this would be the time to show it, or at least hint at it. But instead of any of that, we really get quite the opposite. Jake laughs and plays with the kids:

Jokes around and cuddles:

Teaches Neteyam to fish:

He even says in his narration:

“Happiness is simple…whoever thought that a jarhead like me could’ve cracked the code?”

Guys, this is quite literally the best time of his life. This man absolutely adores his family with every fiber of his being, they are his whole world. Like, look at him! He has stars in his eyes!!

We have zero reason to suspect that Jake was overly harsh or strict in a way that would impede his relationship with his kids during this time. The Sullies appear to be a normal, healthy, close-knit family.

It’s only when the RDA returns and reignites war that things change.

I’ve seen some people claim that Jake’s personality changed it the second movie. I disagree—it was not his personality that changed, but rather his priorities.

A1 Jake was a disabled marine vet who was offered his brother’s contract after said brother was unexpectedly murdered by some thug on the street…and part of the reason he agreed to take that contract was that there really wasn’t much else left for him back on Earth, so why not go? A1 Jake had just about nothing left to lose, and therefore could afford to be more reckless.

A2 Jake, however, is another story altogether. A2 Jake can’t just run around poking and prodding and taking risks like A1 Jake did because now he has a wife and four children who rely on him and who he loves more than anything else in the world. It’s not just himself he has to look out for anymore, it’s them. He now has everything to lose. He says as much himself:

Not to mention that he’s older now. Did you really expect the 37-year-old father of four who’s been leading the clan for 15 years and is suddenly thrust back into a brutal war to behave exactly the same as the 22-year-old fish-out-of-water ex-marine sent to fill in for his scientist brother out of the sheer convenience of sharing a genome? A2 Jake’s behavior is not a sudden 180 from his personality in A1, it’s a natural progression and reaction for his character given the changed circumstances.

“A father protects. It’s what gives him meaning.”

This is essentially Jake’s thesis for the movie. This is his #1 priority, his purpose, the lens through which all his actions must be viewed in order to understand them, and it’s important to establish it upfront because it sets up everything else.

With that in mind, let’s take a look at the train raid sequence as its aftermath. Jake begrudgingly allows his now-teenage sons to participate in the war party—from a distance, as spotters. Neteyam seems content to fill this role, but Lo’ak, against orders, eagerly insists that they “have to get in there”, even goading his brother:

Tailed by an exasperated Neteyam, Lo’ak grabs a weapon from Tarsem and lets out a half-hearted warcry:

...let’s be honest here, Lo’ak doesn’t really seem to be taking this raid anywhere near as seriously as he should be; he’s treating it more like a game—on which point, y’know what, let’s pause to talk about Lo’ak for a moment.

Because the primary purpose of this post is defending Jake, it may at times appear that I am being overly critical towards Lo’ak. This is not my intention—I love Lo’ak as much as I love the rest of the Sully family (which is a lot lol). I think the things he struggles with are reasonable and valid struggles to have considering his circumstances. However, that does not always mean that he is in the “right”. Jake and Lo’ak’s conflict through the movie is not as simple as “son right dad wrong” or vice-versa; rather, it stems from a generational/age gap in experience and priorities.

In this case, for example, Lo’ak is treating the raid more like a cool action game than a real battle with real stakes. Which may not be much of a surprise—he’s 14! He’s young, he’s naive, he’s never experienced anything close to real war until the past year or so—he probably genuinely does not fully grasp the stakes of this situation just yet. And why should we expect him to, really? He’s never had to before.

Jake, on the other hand, knows the stakes all too well. This ain’t his first rodeo. He was a solider both on Earth (where he was injured severely enough to become paralyzed from the waist down) and then again on Pandora driving out the RDA in a battle that killed several of his friends and allies, including almost completely wiping out the entire Olangi clan.

Jake understands the risks of war and doesn’t want his kids anywhere near it. We see this not only in the film where he only allows Neteyam and Lo’ak to participate in the raid “from a distance” and ultimately fleeing his own clan altogether once his kids are directly threatened, but also in the comics in which he consistently turns down Neteyam’s pleadings to participate in the war efforts. Unfortunately for him, his sons do happen to be coming of age at around this time and there’s only so much he can do to keep them out of it, so he tries to let them participate in relatively safe ways, like as spotters.

Lo’ak…doesn’t understand this. Not really. And that leads to him recklessly taking unnecessary risks—be it out of curiosity, to get in on the action, or even simply to prove himself. Which understandably scares the crap out of Jake.

When the raid is over, Jake desperately searches the rubble for his sons. He finds Lo’ak quickly and makes sure he’s alright:

…before taking off to search for Neteyam, who he also promptly checks over for injuries.

which is something I’d like to point out here: although Jake sometimes gets gruff with his sons, he never leads with that. He always always always makes sure they’re ok first. That’s important. We’ll come back to it throughout the post.

Anyways, it’s only after making sure that Neteyam is ok that Jake’s initial bout of fear subsides and morphs into frustration and anger: what were you thinking?! And it’s a fair question. If the boys had followed orders, they wouldn’t have been at such risk in the first place. Once the party returns to High Camp, Jake addresses this point with them, reminding them that by disobeying direct orders they put themselves in very serious danger, and reiterating to Lo’ak in particular that his recklessness nearly got his brother killed and grounding him.

In other words, Jake’s response to his sons going against his orders was…a lecture and a grounding. That’s…a pretty reasonable parental reaction, actually. Sure, you could nitpick and say his tone was too harsh, but given the situation, I struggle to blame him…

…which leads into the next relevant scene: while Mo’at and Kiri tend to Neteyam’s scratches, Neytiri gently chides Jake for being too hard on the boys, concluding with the infamous line: “This is not a squad. It is a family.”

Now, what I find interesting about this scene is that neither party is really in the wrong here. Jake is doing his best to fill his role as a father by watching out for his kids’ physical safety—even if it means being a little strict. Likewise, Neytiri is filling her role as a mother by looking out for her kids’ emotional well-being. As she should!

That said, I think people who use this line as proof of Jake’s supposed parental failure are forgetting the context. While Neytiri’s line is true in general, when the boys sign up to participate in a war party, they kinda do become a “squad”. In that moment, in that context, they are a squad, they have to behave like one lest someone gets hurt if not killed.

I also think they forget Jake’s reaction to Neytiri’s line:

Look closely. There are tears in his eyes. This dude was terrified of the possibility that he may have just lost one of his sons in the raid, and all his strictness stems from that. And Neytiri seems to recognize this as well, as she can’t seem to decide how to respond. She probably worries about the same thing, after all, even if she handles it differently.

On that note, let’s look at the next time Lo’ak disobeys instructions: going to the old shack with Spider, Kiri, and Tuk, where they first encounter the recom unit.

Something interesting about the aftermath of the recom rescue is that no one gets lectured this time actually. Remember what I said about how, no matter how upset he is, Jake always checks to make sure the kids are ok first and foremost? Sure enough, that’s what he does here:

Not only for his daughters, mind you, but also both his sons (we’ll address the daughter-favoritism claims later):

With the recoms now targeting the Sully family specifically, Jake, feeling out of other options, makes the difficult decision to flee and find refuge among the Metkayina clan.

whoops, there’s that “protection” theme again

When their request for sanctuary is somewhat reluctantly accepted, Jake calls a family meeting and tells the kids this:

Remember how earlier we established how “a father protects” is essentially Jake’s thesis for this movie? Well, this is an offshoot of that: Jake believes that hiding amongst the Metkayina is currently the best was to keep his family safe; therefore, throughout the Sullies’ time with the clan, Jake’s primary goal is to lay low and get along with the clan so as not to tread on their hospitality and get kicked out (even if and when that means setting aside one’s own pride). This, then, is the lens through which Jake’s actions must be analyzed while his family is staying with the Metkayina.

The first time this becomes relevant is after Neteyam and Lo’ak’s little scrap defending Kiri from Aonung and his posse. Jake is clearly not thrilled about Kiri being bullied, but again, his top priority is keeping his family safe and right now this entails maintaining a good standing with the chief, which in turns means that his sons getting into brawls with Tonowari’s son is a very bad look. Which is why, after a moment of internal conflict, he asks Lo’ak to apologize to Aonung (he even tries to explain when Lo’ak protests:)

On that note, while remaining on good terms with the clan has to take precedence at this moment, Jake is clearly quietly proud of his boys for kicking butt, as we see from his exchange with Neteyam (though yes, it is unfortunate that Lo’ak didn’t get to see this bit).

…which brings us to one of the bigger moments that people point to when accusing Jake of being a bad father: the “you bring shame to this family” line. Now, I can understand why this line doesn’t sit right with viewers initially, especially since we have just seen firsthand the truth about what Lo’ak experienced over the past few hours. However, when you consider what’s going on from Jake’s perspective, the line is not quite as unreasonable as it first seems.

Let’s back up a bit to when Lo’ak first returns to the village after meeting Payakan. At first Jake is just relieved that his son is ok (remember: he always checks first)

In fact, once it’s clear that Lo’ak is ok, it seems Jake just wanted to let it go and head home…the real conflict didn’t begin until after Lo’ak lied to take the blame for Aonung.

Up until this moment, Jake only knew Aonung’s side of the story, that he’d taken Lo’ak outside the reef and he got stranded there (it’s unclear whether Aonung specifies that he abandoned him out there on purpose, the little punk, but I digress). But when Tonowari (rightfully) declares Aonung’s responsibility for the incident, Lo’ak speaks up to take the fall, claiming that the whole ordeal was all his idea, which Aonung had tried to talk him out of.

Lo’ak does not have a reputation for lying…but he does have a reputation for pulling reckless stunts that put himself and others in danger, so for better or for worse, Jake has literally zero reason not to believe this claim.

In other words, for Jake, the situation has just gone from “my son got taken advantage of by the local bullies and put into a precarious situation but he’s home safe now” to “my son dragged a bunch of other kids to a dangerous location where he knows he’s not supposed to go despite the chef’s son trying to talk him out of it, endangering both his life and theirs, getting lost in the process, and thereby worrying and inconveniencing the entire clan on whose hospitality we rely by making them go out of their way to arrange a whole search party in the dead of night just to find him.”

…yeah, no wonder he was flippin’ ticked. No wonder he “didn’t want to hear it” when Lo’ak tries to explain that he was “only trying to make friends”. We as the audience know that’s true, of course, but as far as Jake knows in that moment, based on what Lo’ak himself claimed just moments ago, he was trying to “make friends” by…dragging them out to a dangerous location despite their protests thus jeopardizing both his and their lives as well as his family’s standing in the clan who can kick them out at any time. Yeah, I wouldn’t want to “hear it” either.

When you look at it from that perspective, “you brought shame to this family” doesn’t really seem quite as extreme, does it?

And yes, I feel for Lo’ak here, really, I do; he’s just been through a lot and yes based on the actual events that just occurred his father’s anger is the last thing the poor kid needs and I totally get why it would upset him…but at the same time, I can’t help feeling that he kinda brought this particular lecture on himself by voluntarily taking the blame for Aonung. Not really sure what he was expecting: that Jake would somehow read his mind and understand the way things actually went? That he would see through his lie and praise him for being so amiable towards Aonung by taking the fall perhaps similar to how Neteyam so often claims the blame for Lo’ak’s own reckless shenanigans despite how rude Aonung had been to him thus far? Or perhaps he just blurted out the blame claim as an olive branch of sorts to Aonung (genuinely trying to “make friends” in a way) without really thinking about the consequences of doing so. Who knows. But regardless of how Lo’ak did or didn’t think things would go, I think it’s a little unfair to blame Jake for his reaction. Based on his knowledge of the circumstances, which in turn were based on Lo’ak’s own account given only moments before (remember, Jake had zero reason to suspect he was lying), his reaction is actually pretty understandable.

Speaking of Lo’ak’s adventures with Payakan, the next time we see him clash with his father is when Tonowari lectures him for bonding with the outcast, and Lo’ak defends his new friend. Remember: Jake’s top priority is keeping his family safe which currently means not getting kicked out of the Metkayina. Lo’ak, regardless of whether or not he was in the right, was clearly upsetting Ronal and Tonowari in this exchange—Neytiri is actually the first to step in and warn her son:

…and when Lo’ak persists anyways, Jake has to step in in hopes of smoothing things over with the chief.

It sucks that this upset Lo’ak, especially because we the audience know that Lo’ak is right about Payakan, but again, Jake is currently more concerned with not getting kicked out of the clan than with his son winning an argument about the validity of a tulkun’s outcast status.

...aaaand here comes the hardest part of this essay to write. Admittedly I wasn’t aware of this argument until recently, but now that I know it’s out there I feel obligated to address it here. Apparently some folks are out there claim that Jake did not display a sufficient amount of emotion at Neteyam’s death, and this somehow proves that he wasn’t as attached to his sons as he should have been. And all I have to say to that is: did we watch the same movie??

That man broke upon his son’s death. Did he wail and cry like Neytiri, no, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t heartbroken—wailing and crying simply aren’t how his character responds to trauma. He’s a solider, he’s probably trained to delay any external breakdown at least until a given battle is over.

But you can still see it in his face. You can hear it in his voice which breaks and shudders when he realizes that Neteyam is dying and tries to give him a few last words of comfort, wanting so desperately to ease his pain to the best of his abilities.

...yeah. This man is broken in this moment.

…but his job isn’t over yet. The battle is still raging. He still has three more kids who still need him. As much as he may want to, he cannot take the time to fully grieve in this moment.

…which brings us to the big one, the main line people point to when arguing that Jake is a bad father:

Now, let’s be honest: was this an awful thing to say? Yes, absolutely. Should Jake apologize to Lo’ak for it after the fact, if he hasn’t already? Definitely, one-hundred-percent. I’m not disputing that in the least.

however…

In this moment, Jake has just spent the past however-long locked in a vicious battle, and hardly minutes before watched his firstborn son bleed out in his arms. And now he learns that his daughters—one of whom is a pre-pubescent child with no chance of defending herself—are still caught on the “demon ship” with the recoms, who have just very clearly proven that they have absolutely no qualms with killing these kids. Quaritch taunting in his ear certainly is not helping.

The only thing Jake could properly focus on in that moment was getting Kiri and Tuk off that boat. Repeat: he wants to get his kids OFF the demon ship, not risk bringing any of them back ON. On top of that, Lo’ak, as established very early on in the film (see: train raid), has a reputation for struggling to follow orders…even when not emotionally devastated by the death of his brother.

All these things considered, is it really any wonder that Jake did not want Lo’ak coming along on this mission? He’s already lost one son, why in the ever-loving flip flap would he want to risk losing the other by intentionally bringing him back to the danger zone with no guarantee he’ll come out again, especially given his apparent propensity to ignore orders and throw himself into danger?

Heck, the only reason he lets Spider come is that Spider knows where the girls are and, unlike Lo’ak, Spider doesn’t have that same reckless reputation. Spider, in that moment, appears to be able to compartmentalize the fresh trauma well enough to focus on the task at hand, and can be trusted to do as Jake asks. Lo’ak…can’t. So, Jake wants him to stay behind.

Did he express it horribly? Absolutely. But saying one stupid insensitive thing in a moment of numbness underlaid by grief, pain, and fear does not make him a horrible dad overall, and I think it’s a little unfair to say that it does.

On that note, I do not believe for one moment that Jake genuinely blames Lo’ak for Neteyam’s death. Now, Lo’ak may well view it that way and I’m sure it’ll come into play for his character arc in future movies, which can be a topic for another day, but as for Jake’s perspective, no. I don’t think he truly blames Lo’ak. Even if he couldn’t necessarily process it all right away, I think he knows that Lo’ak is going through as much heartbreak as the rest of the family…especially given that Jake himself has firsthand experience losing a brother. He just said something dumb in a moment of pain.

(On the topic of Lo’ak being unable to follow orders, less than five minutes after Jake, Neytiri, and Spider leave for the ship, Lo’ak…immediately disobeys the order to stay safe on the island and heads back out to the ship anyways. Obviously in the grand scheme of things it’s good that he was there to save Jake from drowning after the scuffle with Quaritch, but still, good gracious son. Way to spectacularly prove your dad’s point.)

So now we come to the point where Lo’ak saves Jake’s life. After a mutual choke-out with Quaritch, Jake is left to drown until Lo’ak finds him and pulls him to the surface, at which point he gasps for air and chokes out Neteyam’s name.

This can be interpreted in a few ways. It could be that Jake is so accustomed to Neteyam being the “responsible” one that he irrationally thought it was him coming to the rescue, momentarily forgetting he had died or somehow thinking maybe by some stroke of fate he pulled through after all—this seems to be Lo’ak’s assumption, given that he promptly corrects him.

Now, some may take Jake’s “oh, Lo’ak…” as a show of favoritism, or proof that Jake values his first son above his second. I don’t think this is the case though—I don’t think Jake’s apparent disappointment is about Lo’ak being there so much it’s about Neteyam not being there. In other words, it’s not a personal slight against or disappointment in Lo’ak, but rather a form of still-very-raw grief for Neteyam who, remember, only just died, like, an hour ago.

It could also be that Jake is still so distraught following Neteyam’s death that it’s consuming his thoughts…he was able to shove it down and compartmentalize long enough to fight the recoms and get Tuk and Kiri off the boat, but that compartmentalization broke down while he was literally drowning and it took him a minute to focus and put things back together (which he manages to do a moment later when Lo’ak tries to apologize for his brother’s death):

The most excruciating interpretation I’ve seen is Jake thinking he had drowned and is rejoining Neteyam in the afterlife. ouch. Though that is, of course, just speculation.

Regardless, at this point Jake has just about given up. He’s exhausted, he’s in agony, both physically and emotionally. He’s completely drained. He wants Lo’ak to live but is ready to give up on himself (“I can’t make it. You can.”). It’s only when Lo’ak insists:

...that Jake realizes he still needs to press forward. Because his other kids still need him. His other son still needs him and he’s not willing to give up on him. So he takes a deep breath (literally), puts his trust in Lo’ak, and lets his son lead him through the flooded passageways out of the wreck. When they finally break the surface, we have this lovely moment:

This moment is a resolution to one of Lo’ak’s primary emotional conflicts throughout the movie: living in the shadow of his legendary war hero father and prodigious older brother, finally getting the recognition and affirmation he so craved from that father. Some might argue that in terms of “ideal” parenting that this kind of moment should have come sooner, or that Jake’s recognition of his son should never have been in doubt in the first place, and while there may be some truth to that, I struggle to really blame Jake for it for reasons I just spent the past 4000 words discussing. I think the fact that this moment happened at all shows that despite their clashes and struggles and miscommunications, Jake does and always has cared very deeply about Lo’ak; his lectures and frustrations come not out of malice or some personal distaste, but out of fear for his well-being.

We see Jake comforting Lo’ak again after the family returns to Neteyam’s body on the rocks.

As I said before, I don’t think for even the briefest moment Jake genuinely blames Lo’ak for Neteyam’s death. I don’t think he would be comforting him like this if he did.

…which, I suppose, brings us to Neteyam’s funeral, and Jake and Neytiri visiting his spirit within Eywa. No parent should ever have to bury their child and good golly gracious this scene ripped my heart out but I digress. I don’t even really have a lot of commentary to add to these scenes…just…just this. It speaks for itself.

look me in the eye and tell me this man “doesn’t care about his sons”. I flipping DARE you.

Well, that concludes the debunking of scenes that supposedly make Jake a bad father. But before we go, let’s look just briefly at this scene of him being a good dad with Kiri. I didn’t mention this earlier because while I’ve seen a lot of complaints about Jake’s interactions with Neteyam and especially Lo’ak, few people have qualms with the way Jake treats Kiri and Tuk—in fact, many people claim that he shows favoritism to his daughters, going out of his way “baby” them and treat them more gently and lovingly than his sons. I disagree and hope the above has done a thorough job dispelling that notion: Kiri and Tuk don’t go around throwing themselves headlong into the same kind of danger that Neteyam and Lo’ak do. They aren’t begging to participate in battle, they aren’t disobeying orders that land them in mortal peril.

In other words: Jake lectures his sons more than his daughters out of necessity, not nepotism. Remember: Jake’s #1 priority is protecting his family, keeping them all safe and alive. That means that when one of his kids pulls a stupid stunt that puts them in danger he feels the need to crack down on that in hopes of preventing it from happening again. Lo’ak is, quite frankly, prone to pulling those kind of stunts, so he gets lectured a lot. Kiri and Tuk do not typically pull such stunts, so they don’t get lectured. It’s as simple as that, really.

Buuuuuut now that we’ve cleared that up, let’s talk just briefly about Jake comforting Kiri.

Like with the scene of visiting Neteyam’s spirit, I don’t have much commentary to add to this scene—it’s a very sweet scene and it speaks for itself really. Jake is very gentle and doing his best to listen to Kiri, even if he is a little unsure about her claims. He doesn’t criticize or invalidate, he just tries to be there for her. What can I say, that’s a good dad right there ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

One last little point before we wrap up for real: the fact that Lo’ak and Neteyam occasionally refer to Jake as “sir”. I was originally planning to address this earlier but it didn’t quite fit in with the flow of the discussion and I consider it such a minor point anyways, I figured I could save it for a side note—but seriously, it baffles me what a big deal people make of this.

It would be one thing if “sir” was something that Jake strictly enforced, if it was the only thing he allowed the kids to address him as, if one of them called him “Dad” and he barked back, “no! it is sir!” But…literally none of that is the case. He never explicitly asks them to call him “sir”, and they call him “Dad” just as often if not more.

The kids referring to Jake as “sir” in tense moments is a simple show of respect, nothing more. I recall my own dad also wanting to be called “sir” when we were in trouble and it was never really an issue. And I suppose your milage may vary depending on where you live, but growing up in the southern US, “sir” and “ma’am” are just very common basic courtesy in many situations (not just familial).

Sooooo….yeah, the idea that Neteyam and Lo’ak occasionally calling Jake sir is somehow proof of Jake being too strict or cold or whatever else is really making a mountain out of a molehill. It’s not that deep y’all.

…aaaand I suppose that’s it for this post.

In conclusion:

Look guys, Jake does not have to be your favorite character. You don’t even have to like him, or agree with everything that he says or does. He isn’t perfect (which, by the way, literally no one is). But if nothing else, I hope this behemoth of a post has at least helped you understand his character and why he acts and reacts the way that he does.

Jake Sully may not be a shining beacon of parental perfection from a psychological development perspective (and all things considered, expecting him to be such is, quite frankly, a little silly), but good golly gracious he is trying his absolute darnedest in incredibly difficult and precarious circumstances beyond his control i.e. the RDA coming back to quite literally take over. This man’s family means absolutely everything to him and I’m done sitting back and watching y’all slander him just because he didn’t react to x situation the way you think he should have.

thank you and good night

#avatar #avatar 2 #way of water #jake sully #lo'ak

842 notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 6 months

Text

Three sets of Ko-fi thank-you sentences for @tigerliliesandcherryblossoms.

the Core Four gets a clonebaby and it's not even Tim's fault:

"That's a good idea, yeah," Cassie says, grimacing a little. "We're gonna want to know that."

"At least we don't have to worry about Kryptonian DNA," Kon mutters, pressing another kiss to Kenley's hair with a briefly stressed look on his face at the thought. Kenley just keeps sitting silently in his lap, watching Vic operate his scanners. "That's a pain in the ass to stabilize and I just don't believe those randos had it in 'em."

Tim is pretty sure if Kenley ever degenerated the way Match did, Kon would never forgive himself.

Pretty damn sure, in fact.

Core Four poly Pockets:

"Mom!" Cassie fumes, stomping the floor admittedly maybe a little too hard. Mom just glowers at her Pocket. He looks even more anxious, and Cassie scowls darker and steps between them. "Leave him alone! He's brand-new, he hasn't even done anything!"

"I'm more concerned about what he's going to think he can do," Mom says, still glowering. Cassie's Pocket scowls back at her indignantly, but there's an undercurrent of uncertainty to the expression too, and Cassie bristles again at the sight of it.

"You're assuming the worst just because he's a little older than me!" she says angrily.

"It's not a little!" Mom snaps. "He's twice your age at least!"

"And Diana is like a hundred times Steve Trevor's age, so what's it matter?!" Cassie demands. She'll grow up soon enough. She's sixteen! She's gonna be eighteen in two years! That's an adult, and then it won't be weird at all that Superman's her soulmate!

the one where Kon is born significantly stronger than Superman and Clark is having a fucking crisis about it:

"The boy idolizes you," Bruce says matter-of-factly.

"I'm aware, yes," Clark replies with an uncomfortable grimace. It took all of thirty seconds in the kid's presence to notice that. He's only spent about thirty seconds in the kid's presence, admittedly, but still.

"The League can't handle him," Bruce says.

". . . the whole League can't handle him," Clark says slowly, praying he's misunderstanding what Bruce means by that statement.

"Turns out the human DNA severely cuts the effectiveness of kryptonite and drastically ups his yellow sunlight absorption, and he still has the full spectrum of the tactile telekinesis even under concentrated red sunlight," Bruce says. "Which, incidentally, can shield him from magical attacks and effects. So yes. The whole League all together can't handle him. Not without a level of pyrrhic victory that the planet likely wouldn't recover from, anyway."

Clark feels nauseous.

"Ah," he says.

"He's not actually aware of that yet, mind, because he's a week old and has a teenage brain and very limited life experience," Bruce continues, watching Clark levelly. "But given the enhanced intelligence and how fragile everything on this planet is next to him, it's not going to take him long to notice."

#tigerliliesandcherryblossoms #wip: yj accidental baby acquisition #wip: a pocketful of kons #wip: the one where kon is stronger than clark

135 notes · View notes

theresa-of-liechtenstein · 24 days

Text

my first and only graduate school admitted students' visit was a success in that it helped me make up my mind. but maybe not in the way that people expected.

readers of this blog will know that i have a slightly complicated relationship with Institution B (the school i was visiting). but to make a long story short, four years ago, i was convinced that i would be enrolling there for undergrad. i had grown up there; for most of my life, the thought of 'what if we had never been priced out of living there' has haunted our family. we went to the area to visit old friends often when i was a kid, and four years ago, i saw going to Institution B as a sort of homecoming. however, my current, home institution unexpectedly awarded me an extremely large scholarship, and i wound up enrolling at the start of the pandemic.

it was not at all what i had wanted, and i felt a little embarrassed about it because some people i knew had considered it 'less prestigious' than Institution B. four years later, with a greater degree of awareness, i'm pretty sure i can pinpoint a bit of the underlying cause of that. my home institution is significantly more ethnically and economically diverse than Institution B. despite being older than Institution B, my home institution does fall behind because it lacks the endowed immediate surrounding area that Institution B has.

from the minute i stepped onto Institution B's campus, i felt it. Institution B's department sees itself as a 'big brother' to my home institution. many of Institution B's faculty work collaboratively with faculty from my home institution. it seemed like to them, me moving to Institution B was the obvious choice to make.

i interviewed with three professors: Professor A (who the grad students warned me was an advisor who could potentially break a student, but had many connections and could set me up), Professor B (the supervisor of the graduate student buddy i was assigned for the duration of the visit) and Professor C (contacted me in january but i never got around to reaching out)

Professor A (who i met with first) revealed that he was on the advisory board for the matsci program of my home institution. he also asked me what my research background was, and when i started enthusiastically going into it, literally put his hand up, interrupted me, and said "hold on. ✋🏻😐" which was genuinely so embarrassing. i wanted to jump out of a window. he asked me if i was considering any other options, and when i truthfully said i was considering staying, he bluntly said it was a poor idea.

Professor B revealed that not only had he recently given a seminar presentation at my home institution, he had literally gone out for dinner with my capstone mentor/PI on his visit and spoke positively of the city. he was a little awkward, but seemed very supportive and my graduate student babysitter had nothing but positive words about him.

Professor C had genuinely surprising research, and when i pointed out a few things with the projects he showed me (it had to do with phase transformations, but since i've just taken the class the concepts were fresher in my head) he was absolutely ecstatic. his enthusiasm for me asking questions about the manuscript was genuinely endearing. he also very eagerly mentioned that he intentionally made sure that half of his group were women.

speaking of which, i was the only woman in attendance among the potential incoming students. there were other women already in the phd program, but not very many. i didn't feel uncomfortable, but i did get the sense that the guys in my potential cohort didn't really know how to deal with me at first. i did feel at times that i was like the diversity hire, and my interests beyond matsci were so dissimilar to everyone else's that i just really wasn't sure how to connect. but then again, story of my life lmao.

i spent more time talking to the current grad students, who were all genuinely so hospitable and kind and looked out for me. however, something i didn't like was their constant conversation about alcohol. it wasn't that they weren't serious about their research: plenty of research stories got passed around and students had received various fellowships and grants. but many of them were drinking excessively at the social events. no one pressured me to join, but being the only totally sober person at the table was a little uncomfortable.

the second night was spent at the chair's house for a party with many of the faculty we had been interviewing that day. two things of note occurred.

one, i found myself next to one of the admits and Professor A, who asked us if we had seen the transmission electron microscopes (TEM) during our facilities tour. off our answers to the negative (we'd run out of time) he was like 'give me ten minutes and i'll drive you to campus and show you' which is where i got the picture from that one post taken. (Professor A offered.) he was very much under the influence and probably should not have been driving, and nearly made me carsick on the way back to the chair's house from his abrupt hard braking. i thought i was gonna die but tbh, it was worth seeing some of the largest microscopes i had ever seen in my whole life. so basically, a professor kidnapped me and two other guys and almost killed us with his atrocious driving. which is not the weirdest thing i've ever done with faculty but that's a post for tomorrow morning.

two, i found myself conversing with a professor who had moved to Institution B from my home institution a few years before. when i told him i was considering between the universities, at first, he said something like 'speaking as someone who's moved from [home institution] to Institution B...' and gave me a knowing look. use your words like an adult for god's sake. he then asked me my current faculty mentor and commented on his research a bit, then asked, 'who would be your PI at [home institution]?' i told him, and he said, 'oh! well, then,' sent me another knowing look, and said 'well, whatever you choose...' as if name dropping had changed something. again, man, please don't be cryptic.

i think all in all, even though Institution B was trying very hard to sell themselves to me, and posit themselves as a school of diversity and inclusion, i still felt isolated in a way i didn't feel when i was undergoing the process of interviewing faculty in my home institution in my grad school search. i felt out-of-place and terrified of making the wrong impression. some things people were saying to me went straight out of the window because i was trying so hard to monitor my facial expressions and fidgeting. i truly felt like i had a mask on and was trying not to let it slip. also, being the first in my family to go for a phd made me feel like there were so many unwritten, unspoken rules that i was just breaking irreversibly.

i can't help but compare this part of the experience to the professor in whose lab i'd be at my home institution. even though i had had her for a class, i had never interacted with her at length since the class was a little big. but i had also impressed her, and she had wanted to hear from me. i felt like i could relax around her, and our energies matched so well. she brought up me staying in orchestra even before i did, whereas i didn't feel like i could admit to any of the other professors that i wanted to also pursue music. it was nothing like the interviews i had had at Institution B.

something my grad student buddy had told me about was how he had done both his B.S. and M.S. at one institution, but decided to move for the Ph.D. i wondered why, since the program at his old home institution has been world-renowned. and he told me that if he had stayed, he would have still felt like an undergrad.

and i think that helped me to solidify how i felt into words. i don't feel like i'm undergrad anymore. it's been like that since mainly winter term of my third year. i still feel like there is work to be done and a need to be filled. i've mentally graduated already. there are days i walk across campus and i feel like a graduate student already. sometimes even a professor. it's strange, i can't explain it fully and even seeing that out feels so pretentious. but it's the best i can do to verbalize it.

i think the best image with which i can sum up this experience is of me in my little car on the highway back to my home institution, thoughts churning in my head as i drove. i watched the landscape outside change from coast to valley as i drove my way inland. and at last, i saw the mountains that tower over my school, and felt the most overwhelming sense of relief come over me.

i saw those mountains, and my first thought was: i'm home.

#the road to doctor em #if you can guess the institutions involved. you didn't see it #i tried to keep it as ambiguous as possible but i have been pretty lax about geography #so if you recognize anything i just said. no you didn't <3 #ok bye! love the airport!

14 notes · View notes

onbearfeet · 7 months

Text

A puzzle for the Tumblr sleuths

So today (6/29/2023) I was handed this piece of paper and asked if I could read the penciled writing on the second page.

I can't. And it turns out to be a bit of a mystery.

So, context. The ink handwriting belongs to my paternal grandfather, who developed a very specific hand as a finance officer for the US Army. I can read that easily enough. It seems to be the lyrics for a hymn (the "city four-square" is presumably heaven) ... but it's not any hymn I've ever heard, nor one my dad could find in his giant internet hymn index (yeah, that's a thing). Originally we thought he'd written down the lyrics so he could sing them in church, but now it's looking more like he ... wrote his own hymn? He wasn't known to write music, but he was a deeply religious man who taught Sunday School for decades, so maybe? Weird that none of us ever heard about it, though.

(And hey, hi, before you dunk on the guy for his religiosity, this is the grandfather who made sure, after his son married a half-Jewish woman, that his very Jewish-looking granddaughter knew all about the Holocaust and that Nazis are to be FUCKED UP AT THE FIRST OPPORTUNITY, do not pass go, do not collect 200 Nazi dollars, especiallyif they were going after Jews. He's why I started that riot in the third grade. He also considered participating in the desegregation of the Army to be one of the greatest honors of his life. The man wasn't perfect, but for a dude born in 1918, he was TRYING. I get religious trauma, I HAVE religious trauma, but Granddad generally tried to be one of the less shitty ones.)

More context. This piece of paper was found in a box of old family photos and documents that Dad's sister sent us with the explanation that "your baby pictures are in there". Some of the images Dad recognizes; some contain people and places that ring absolutely no bells. (It happens when you're an Army brat raised all over the world, 70-odd years ago. He doesn't have any particular memory problems, but nobody remembers everything after 70 years.)

The pencil handwriting is NOT Granddad's, nor Grandma's. Dysgraphia kinda runs in the family, though, so it could be a relative. The only candidate we could think of was Granddad's sister, Alice, from whom we have no handwriting samples, but Granddad and Alice didn't get along AT ALL and I don't know why she'd have been writing on his piece of paper. They were hardly ever in the same physical space after about 1940.

Additional context: Granddad was in the Army from 1940 to 1960 and moved around A LOT, so very few things got kept from pre-1960. Thus, either this paper is post-1960, or it was really important, or both. Granddad died in 2000, and his arthritis fucked up his handwriting before that, so I would estimate the ink text was created no later than 1990. Going by the color and condition of the paper, I would guess it's significantly older than that.

I don't know who put it in the box with the photos; it might have been my aunt, or Alice (who was close with my aunt), or literally anyone else. We're hoping the pencil text will explain the ink.

Oh. And Granddad was absolutely privy to some wild shit in the Army, so there is a slim but nonzero chance this is bizarro spy nonsense. I know he turned down one job offer from the CIA, but that story always had the air of "they already knew me from that thing that time". I very much doubt this is spy shit, but you never exactly know. Every few years I find out something new and insane about my grandparents.

So, uh ... anyone know how I might get some help reading this thing?

P.S. If you need something to call him other than Granddad, feel free to use JB or his Army nickname--Bear. Yeah, I know. But dude was a GIGANTIC BEARLIKE HUMAN. The name fit.

#help request #puzzle #mystery #historic document #i guess #uhhh #paleography #idk whether this is actually paleography #dysgraphia #history mystery #kat's weird family #kat's awesome granddad #handwriting #can anyone read this #bear's note #bear's hymn #bear's mystery

6 notes · View notes

keywestlou · 2 years

Text

STONE CRAB SEASON UPON US

STONE CRAB SEASON UPON US - https://keywestlou.com/stone-crab-season-upon-us/Stone crab season upon us! Begins next saturday, October 15. Whoopie! I consider stone crabs the finest of foods. Always have. From the first time I enjoyed them in 1962. At Joe's Stone Crabs in Miami. Stone crabs, hash browns and cream spinach! Only fished in one place. The Florida Keys. Our specialty. The season runs through May 1, 2023. Enjoy them! Expensive, but worth it! The older I get, the more I realize there is so much I do not know. Today, I learned that George Custer is buried at West Point. Custer was killed at the Battle of Little Big Horn in Montana. I always assumed he was buried there. Not so. One year after his death, his body was returned to the U.S. Military Academy at West Point. Many great historical figures were never at the top of their class while in school. Custer one. He graduated from West Point in 1861 at the bottom of his class. On this day in 2004, actor Cristopher Reeve died at the age of 52. Best known for his starring role in four Superman films. I considered his performance in the 1980 movie Somewhere in Time one of his best also. Reeve was an avid horseman. On May 27, 1995 he was thrown from a horse. The accident resulted in his being paralyzed from the neck down. I met Reeve at a charity fundraiser in Utica several years later. Spent a short bit of time with him. All I could think and feel as I walked away from him was how sad. Romani people are not to be confused with Romanians or Romans. They are Gypsies. Hitler was anti-Gypsy as he was anti-Jew. He did not kill as many Gypsies only because there were significantly fewer in number than Jews. However kill them he did. A large number of Gypsies were confined to Auschwitz. On October 10, 1944, 800 gypsy children were gassed to death at Auschwitz. No particular reason. Just lets get rid of 800 today. It bothers me that there are those today who have become fascists in thought, some in action. Hitler lovers. How can they so be when Hitler and his followers killed so many innocents. Difficult for me to understand. I worry about the rise of anti-Semitism in the U.S. Steve Thomson wrote of the Southernmost Point. The Southernmost Point statue is not actually the furthest south in Key West. The City decided for logistical reasons that spot would be the best. There used to be a metal sign with all the information here. During Spring Break it began started disappearing every year. So the City put in a giant sewer fixture and filled it with cement. I think the thieves understood the message sent. They painted it bright red with all the info. Now they line up for a block to get their photo. It looks like a buoy and everyone loves it. You have to take pictures, everyone does it. Every time you see Key West on TV, they show the Southernmost Point and that beautiful sea. Enjoy your day!

0 notes

unmeiokaemasu · 2 years

Text

*miscellaneous fe thoughts*

FEWTH

UGGGGGGGHHHHHHGHHRRRRRHGHHHHHHHFHHH

FEH

I would’ve actually loved it if Eitri and Otr became a recurring villain duo, kinda like Loki and Thorr. And that way they could keep saving the latter two for whatever big story beat they’ve got planned. Eitri’s motivation more or less makes sense...I think it works best if you frame it as they say they’re doing a bunch of mad scientist stuff for the good of Niðavellir, but they’re really using the country’s resources because they like doing a bunch of mad science. Like they think they’re working towards some goal but really they just want to live forever and do crimes. But Otr...his whole thing never made much sense. Like, wants Fafnir to stay. Good. Needs to repress his memories so he doesn’t remember he has another home. Great. Uses an artifact that drives him crazy, so 1) he’s clearly constantly in pain and 2) is acting so out of character he might as well be a different person?? like?? hello?? even if Otr’s totally batshit crazy I feel like he’d be like “...this is only a temporary solution, I’ll look up some other form of amnesia that won’t literally kill him.” I know I’m just rehashing why that book was such a trashfire, but what I’m saying is, there was some potential there. But anyway Otr’s dead now, and even tho Eitri literally pointed out that we can summon other copies of him, in this forging bonds story they only showed the two of them in flashback, so clearly they’re trying to keep some weight on character deaths.

Radiant Dawn

Well...I might be taking a break from this again after all. Not sure why I don’t have the energy to keep going forward with it...I think all the hopping around to different groups really killed my momentum, since raising units is one of the things I love most about these games. Also I wasn’t feeling well the past few days, so I wasn’t much up for intense strategy. In the meantime I’ve been playing...

FEW

Yeah, I still really like the original Warriors :’) I’ve been trying and failing to unlock Lyn, so rn I’m focusing on boosting my best unit (Lucina) to max upgrades, so she can hopefully hold her own in like fort defense or whatever while I control someone else. But yeah, I like Warriors games, I had a lot of fun with this & Age of Calamity (once I got over how hard reading the maps is). They’re fun & light & relaxing. which brings me to...

3H (& FEWTH)

UUUUUUUUGGHGH Okay. I know they won’t keep making stuff set in Fodlan forever. It makes perfect sense for them to have a 3H spinoff. It makes even more sense for them to have something light in between 3H and another new entry. I want the next original fire emblem game to get all the tlc it deserves. Obvs the last few years have been terrible for game development, so I actually want them to take more years to release a new FE game than in previous years. I’m sure they must be working on whatever the next thing is, since FE games have just been getting more popular since Awakening.

I just. I’m still living in dread that the next game will still be set in Fodlan. What they did with 3H was very cool, with four routes and a DLC campaign. That’s a lot of stuff! But because of that I’m so doooone.

Thinking about it now, I guess it’s not just that I burnt out because of replaying it too much. I think playing the older games just showed me that each game has different strengths. Blazing Blade is as straightforward and simple as a FE game gets, but because of the ending feels very satisfying to me. Path of Radiance succeeds in telling a more complex story with boatloads of characters and settings. I felt Awakening had significantly weaker character writing, even though I know they worked on it a lot, but I still love the central Chrom-Robin-Lucina storyline so much that I still am very fond of the game overall. (I should go back and try to really get a handle on the new gameplay mechanics now that I’ve played some of the older games though...)

So I guess...at the end of the day, there isn’t a storyline in 3H that I feel 100% satisfied with? I guess that’s natural with branching paths. Even Fates was designed so that you’d play the two opposing routes, but then have the third route to tie everything up. (Yes buy buying all three games, that was less good.)

I know some people are very very fond of one 3H route or another, but Verdant Wind is my favorite, and I don’t like it as much as other FE games. I guess people tend to get more passionate about Azure Moon or Crimson Flower, but, eh.

Also, I guess a big part of it is I care as much about Byleth’s place in the narrative as I did Robin’s in Awakening? Hm. Them becoming head of the church most routes feels...a little out of left field. Like by the end of the story they’ve only known about the church of Seiros for a total of like 15 months, since they were asleep for five years in the middle there. Also I guess Sothis’ presence in the story still feels weirdly unresolved?? Like...Rhea succeeds. Sothis’s consciousness appears to be revived. But she never seems to remember much, she has no desire to like, be really alive again, she doesn’t express a desire for anything really, other than apparently to not die vicariously if Byleth dies. She actively avoids having Byleth let Rhea know she’s there. Why?? Does she think Rhea will try to control her? Does she not remember her at all? Does she remember her old life but not feel attached to it? Is it not really Sothis, but just a spectre manifesting her power?? We never really find out. She’s just there to give Rhea a strong attachment to Byleth, and to give Byleth superpowers later.

soooooooo I guess what I’m feeling is, I like when there’s a “definitive route.” The narrative choice is cool! ...buuut I like a strong, well-crafted narrative that builds to a strong planned ending. Which I guess is why the other two routes are more popular. If you attached to Edelgard or Dimitri early on, their routes have a lot more to do with their personal story arcs. Claude’s still my favorite, I instantly liked him the best, I like his ending the most, and I think it’s great that he’s the only one who doesn’t up and die if you don’t pick his route, buuuut his connection to Byleth is still the weakest.

So uh. In conclusion. Uh. Dang I didn’t expect to write that much. Um. I still like 3H. I still pick it up from time to time; it’s so easy to just dip back into casually. Probably a big part of why it was so popular. The GBA games have my favorite gameplay I think, but they are not “pick up and play,” they are “sit down and concentrate for 45 minutes at least.”

But that is why I’m not excited for FEWTH. It’s fucking around in the middle of a story that I don’t care about as much. I loved Age of Calamity, because even though it unapologetically fucked with BotW’s solid story, there was a really clear point in the story where a branching narrative made sense (y’know, right before the timeskip - the same place where 3H has a branching narrative.) Also it had solid writing for Zelda, aka the character who carries the damn thing. On the other hand, I liked FEW for how unapologetically silly it was. Why are all these people here? Who cares! Certainly not you! We know you play Heroes! This is just like that! FEWTH looks like it’s taking itself pretty seriously.

Ah well. I’m. Almost certainly going to play it. =sigh= I don’t have to! ...but I will be too curious if I don’t. At least warriors games are not usually that long.

I just hope the next FE game isn’t too complicated, so it takes less time to develop, and can get here sooner...

#catfishchat #fe talk #feh talk

1 note · View note

dokifluffs · 3 years

Text

You’re Safe | Sakusa Kiyoomi

Pairing: Kiyoomi X Reader (female)

Genre: MAFIA!AU, dad and husbando tehe, fluffy, action? thriller??

Author’s Note: mafia 🤝 protective 🤝 domestic father figure 🤝 SAKUSA

Warnings: k*lling, blood, vivid imagery, LONG, language

gif from @rivaillerose 🖤

“Y/N,” a husky voice spoke your name, pulling you from your much needed rest as life of being a new mother had been challenging though so far, it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle

“Y/N, darling.”

You groaned in your sleep, not wanting to wake, to leave the warmth that you were so comfortable laying in

The edge of the bed shifted as a weight sat down beside you, making your body move toward the person

You brought yourself to open your eyes as heavy as they were, your vision clearing to find your husband sat beside you, his mask pulled down to his chin

The room was gloomy and gray though the curtains were open, not a bit of sunlight shining through as he looked down to you with gentle eyes

Despite his softer side with you, he was still the head of the clan - and his appearance matched him as well

He donned a black wool overcoat with the same colored turtleneck and mask

“What is it, Omi?” You asked sleepily as he cupped your cheek with his black gloved hand

His black gloves were always an accessory he had on him, whether he was wearing them or not

He had a thing with germs but he also saw no need to get his hands dirty when his men were always there to do the job for him

You nuzzled your face into his touch, very tempted to fall asleep holding him close but as your mind woke up more and more, you remembered what today was

What he had to do, where he had to go

“I’m leaving soon.. I’ll be back in a few days..” he whispered as he moved a strand of your hair from your face

You wanted to pretend you didn’t hear these words, that he never told you he had to leave or when he did

A part of you wished he left without telling you but an even greater part was so grateful that he woke you

“Do you really have to go again?” You squeezed his gloved hand as you sat yourself up straighter

“You know how my father is... He wants to make sure things are... under control.. I promise I’ll be back in two days.”

The way he spoke, the words fell so effortlessly from those lips, his voice low and cutting through the space yet he spoke at a volume as if he was telling you a great secret

“You said that last time and he kept you with him for a couple weeks...” you thought back to that time

You were seven months pregnant, almost eight, at the time and it was like he fell off the face of the earth

You couldn’t go anywhere or do anything but reside in the manor and you couldn’t even talk to him

You were alone again

“Don’t go...”

the nights in bed alone, the cramps, emotional rollercoasters, motion sickness, nausea

You at least wished he could have called you

The nightmares you had, the worst case scenarios playing in your head until you woke up with tears streaming down your face, only for you to cry yourself silently back to sleep as fear pooled and plagued you from within

He could see the sadness in your eyes and he could remember vividly the mental torture he was put under

No communication to you and all he could at most to see you was through the hidden cameras all connected to his phone

Even checking in on you had to be done in secret, all to make sure that he was strong enough to continue on the family business even if he had to lose you or be away for unpredictable amounts of time

It was unbearable then and it was still unbearable now

He never asked to grow up into the business of the underworld, let alone take it over from his father at the prime age of 20 four years ago

He never wanted your life to be taken away when you two had already been together when he was recruited

“I’m sorry, darling, but you know I have to,” he sighed. “You know how my father is.” He cupped your cheek and kissed your temple then lips before he stood

“Am I going to lose you?” Your voice broke the silence, breaking through the white sound of the downpour outside

But you had stopped your question early

“Am I going to lose you today? Tomorrow? One day?”

He stood frozen in his place before he could reach for the knob

“No, Y/N. You won’t.” His eyes paused for a bit on you as he thought about his response, the fatigue of being a mother was already showing. “I’ll be able to call you this time and I’m the head now. The only title my father has to me now is father.”

“You won’t.” He stepped back over to you leaned down to kiss you again. “Not today at least…”

“I’ll call you at supper time, darling. Have a good day.”

You did your best to hold onto his hand as long as you could, to remember his touch, his voice, his scent, the way he looked before he walked out those doors

Because some days or nights, you never truly know if you would ever see him again

And it terrified you

The sound of the rain only seemed to get more intense now that he was gone and you were here

But now your day was beginning now that you were awake

You slipped out of the king sized bed, leaving the warmth you had slept in as the soft carpet at your feet, your toes sinking into the fibers

Brushing your teeth, showering in the grand bathroom of the manor, it was a life you surely never expected but here you were

Kiyoomi’s father and his entire family had built their name from nothing to the global known corporation that it was today

You dried your body off, finding what to wear today through the walk in closet and once that was found, it was breakfast

“Good morning, madam, shall I bring you your breakfast to the master suite?” Your right hand maid had greeted you as you stepped out as she carried the laundry with her

“Oh, thank you, Olivia, but I’ll head down to the kitchen after waking D/N,” you smiled to the older maid that had worked for the Sakusa family for decades

All the staff that worked and lived in the estates on the property outside of the manor were trained security, men and women, whose jobs were to protect the main family, to serve them, and to keep others who would pose a threat away and out, even if it meant killing them

But you always tried not to think or wonder about how many people these staff have killed or beat up or anything whenever you interacted with them, especially when they greeted you with a smile

They were there to protect you and to make sure that nothing and no would would ever harm your life

You stepped into the nursery, the wide room decorated with warm lights and stuffed animals, some more than twice the size of your daughter

“Hi,” you smiled so brightly seeing your baby’s eyes already open, looking up to you as she sat in her crib, holding onto her blankie. “Good morning precious,” you lowered the front gate of the crib so you could kneel down to her level

Sakusa sat in the limousine as he watched the scene of you and your daughter in the nursery, wishing he could just turn the car around and to stay home

Things were in balance, he knew this already but his father’s orders were orders he still had to respect

He clicked off his phone, tucking the device into his pocket as he was to be in the car for quite a bit of time before he would get to his father’s

The biggest smile spread on her face as she laughed seeing you, her bubbliness seeming to make all the gloominess disappear

“Let’s get you changed~” you chimed as you lifted the baby girl into your arms, getting a whiff of her heavy diaper and finding an outfit for her day

“Olivia?” You called into the custom intercom by the nursery’s closet, though there was practically one in every room

“Yes, madam?”

“Sorry for troubling you, but could you actually bring breakfast for D/N and I up to the upstairs loft? You could even send it up the dumbwaiter and that’s fine too.”

“Of course, would you like the usual?”

“Yes please, thank you.”

You carried your little girl toward the upstairs loft, one of your favorite areas of the house since it was significantly smaller - well almost - than the living room downstairs

The loft didn’t extend all the way downstairs like how the ground floor’s living room ceiling extended to the second floor

More than ten thousand square feet of property, more rooms in the manor than you knew what to do with them

Four guest bedrooms with full bathrooms, a grand study and two story “little” library, two main bedrooms in addition to the master bedroom and a nursery

So much space, all sorts of technologies, gadgets and gizmos of all sorts in the house

All the systems in the house was made by the Sakusa corporation to ensure security

This even included your and Kiyoomi’s custom made phones

There was also the basement- all sorts of fun activities to be done: a pool, pool table, living room area that opened up to the backyard with the bar and barbecue, the fire pit

and finally, there was the cellar that was the only place Kiyoomi had requested that you never go - and you never did

You knew that look in his eye, that tone of voice and you knew he had requested this for your best

And most importantly, there were three safe rooms, all three upstairs with hidden entryways to protect you, official guests, and anyone in the family

Before you knew it, Olivia had made her way upstairs with the breakfast as you played with your daughter in the loft, bouncing her on your lap sat on the wide couch

The loft was brightly lit and open, toys of all types for your daughter to play with as the TV played the morning kids show

As filled as the house was with the special staff and things to do, it still felt so lonely and empty as you sat there

You had tried to chat and converse with them but they never loosened up, always keeping all the formalities but it was never any use

The storm outside seemed to be getting worse as your eyes gazed to the horizon, spotting the trees at the edge of the estate where all their branches had been swaying in the wind, the paler, underside of their leaves revealed

Thunder began to rumble in the distance with the occasional flash of lightning but both unbothered your daughter and you as the two of you remained in the loft

You watched as she rolled about on a blanket, playing with her stuffed animals and the other interactive toys that played music to keep her entertained while you watched the TV, finding nothing remotely as entertaining to watch

But just before you could change the channel to yet another disappointing channel, your attention was pulled to your phone vibrating beside you, your eyes lighting up as you saw the caller ID

“You seem so bored,” Kiyoomi’s deep voice sounded through the phone but he spoke the truth

You were tired and bored but you didn’t want to sleep - it would only make you unable to sleep later tonight anyways

“I am,” you sighed as you muted the TV. “How far out have you gone?”

“Actually, not too far. Only about half an hour since there was a major accident on the highway so we had to take a detour. But traffic is terrible so we were stuck for quite a bit before we could actually exit,” Sakusa almost groaned thinking about the terrible accident

How he was stuck in a single place for practically twenty minutes

“Wow, do you know what happened?”

“Well there was a…” his voice drowned out in your ears as you could hear something that didn’t sound like rain or thunder - they were too distinctly different

Loud bangs echoed in the distance, bringing your attention elsewhere though all you could look was outside the wall window to the dark skies

But you couldn’t see anything except the normal background of the property but it was just silent again with the white noise of rain washing down the glass, followed by thunder and a flash of lightning as the storm brewed closer and closer

“I’m sorry what? I missed what you said... I think I heard… something weird..” you spoke as you looked outside the windows that looked to the back of the property

You could hear echoes of movement downstairs, the bustling business of the special staff in the house but it sounded standard... or so you thought

“What did you hear?”

“..I don’t know.. maybe it was the storm and I’m just distracted...” you smiled into the phone as you spoke while your daughter happily crawled to you, laying her head on your legs, her puffy cheeks round as ever

“Well, you two were my only source of entertainment so far this trip,” the corner of his lips curled as he picked off small specks off his suit

“That makes one… of us-“ your thought died out in a matter of seconds

You heard louder, clearer bangs while the staff that had been stationed with you just outside the loft talked over their ear coms to another elsewhere

Before you could continue your sentence or call, the bangs only got louder and your body reacted faster than you could say or think

Clear gunshots began firing at the front entrance, echoing off the high walls and ceilings of the manor while the staff worked on securing the doors and all other entrances and possible ones

“Y/N?” Sakusa could only hear the subtle commotion happening but it was clear you weren’t on the phone. “Shit shit shit..” he stayed on the line as he changed to the security cameras he had access to he used to watch you and your guys’ daughter

Looking through the camera surveillance, he caught a glimpse of you disappearing with your phone in hand while your arms carried your daughter as you disappeared toward the bedroom

“Turn back now,” Kiyoomi howled as his driver did just that, not wasting a single second

You ran into the master suite’s walk in closet that led to the entryway of one of the safe rooms, your baby girl in your arms as she held on to you her whines already beginning before they would turn into cries

“Shh, it’s okay, baby, mama’s gonna protect you,” you smiled, whispering, your voice already shaky, lips trembling as you pressed a little kiss to the top of her head. “Even if it costs my life, precious.”

You moved, leaving the master suite and stayed low as you walked across the “bridge” that connected the loft to the other half of the house

Peeking down, you could hear groans of agony, puddles and splashes of of blood on the floor and walls, empty bullet shells on the ground, shards of glass and broken windows

“Search the house, find that bitch,” a deep voice yelled through the manor as for the first time since the loud bangs happened, it sounded so still, like any normal rainy day

But this was far from normal

You crawled across the marble flooring toward the library

There wasn’t any safe room here but the safe rooms were sure to be where they would look, whoever they were

They were able to get through the security, it seemed like the staff was dead

You silently stood as they scoured the lower levels - you could hear them and all the destruction they were havocking

The cars outside the window blurred into mere colors that passed as the limousine sped through the roads back towards the manor

To save time, they went toward the back roads — it was just the slightest bit longer but time could be shaved down since there were no cars anywhere

“Step on it!” Sakusa commanded as his men readied themselves. “Call in Unit 0,” he demanded as he kept his eyes on the cameras, trying to find you yet he couldn’t see you in the master suite’s safe room

Unit 0 being one of the few very highly trained professional assassins and killers who were at the disposal of the Sakusa family whenever needed

He scoured through the cameras, not even caring about all the destruction being done, all he needed to see was where you and your daughter were

You carefully entered the library, shutting the door behind you as you walked over the wooden floors carefully

Every step made your palms sweaty but your heart stopped after hearing a loud creak in the old floors

The worst part was that there was no way to lock the doors

outside of the door, you couldn’t hear too much but you could still clearly hear the storm as a great big window stretched from the floor to ceiling so all the lighting in here was natural

There was something about the walls surrounding the library that made it sound proof in a sense

You constantly bounced your baby girl in your arms to keep her calm as you tried to get a look outside as you approached one of the corners toward the window

“Search upstairs,” one of the men demanded as a handful of men ran upstairs. “Find her.”

The scoured through all the rooms, flipping every room apart, destroying things, tearing the curtains off, flipping the beds, wrecking the nursery

You peeked out the window that faced the front of the manor yet all you could see were broken things and to your horror, more lifeless bodies of the manor’s staff

But before you could look out any longer, a large rock was launched at the window, breaking the glass, shattering it

Your baby girl let out a loud cry in fear, making your heart drop

“No, D/N, shhhh, please, it’ll be okay, we’ll be okay.” You quickly pulled open the latch to the library’s hidden passage where the door was one of the bookcases

As soon as you closed the bookcase, you heard the door to the library burst open

Several men, guns ready

You scanned your finger print for the room to be safely locked however it wouldn’t let you. All you could do to make sure the room was locked was to see your body to keep the door shut and still

They walked through the wide open doorway to the library scanning the two open floors that was connected by two black steel staircases that wound their way up and down, connecting the two floors

“Shh, please,” you whimpered to your daughter as she cried into your chest as you stayed by the passage’s door so you could look out the peephole

They pulled books off the shelves, throwing them from the second level to the first, knocking the paintings off the walls, ripping them by sliding their knives through the canvas’, kicking them, breaking the frames

The ground shook as you heard a a loud boom, making you jump in your spot, the ground rumbling and shaking below where you sat

It sounded like a bomb went off on the lower level but you assumed it was the cars in the garage since you could hear the repeating alarm sounding off

Your daughters cries began to start back up at the loud noise, as you did your best to shush her

“Shhh, it’s okay,” you whispered to her as you wiped her tears, keeping her face to your chest as you stroked your trembling hand down her back as tears trickled down your cheeks and dripped off your chin

The limousine slid on the gravel outside the manor as Sakusa’s men sprang to action from the vehicle

Kiyoomi stayed in his seat, continuously scouring through the cameras but you were yet to be found

He couldn’t find a single trace of you

His men, as well as unit 0, entered through the blown open entrance, broken shards of glass crunching beneath their steps as they surrounded the estate the best they could, splitting up to eliminate the intruders

“Where are you, Y/N?” His heart hammered in his chest as he desperately tried to find you yet nothing

But before he could look any further, his heart dropped seeing the red system failure message. Whoever these people were, they were impressive, but not fast enough

Kiyoomi now meant business now that he had no access to actually see if you were okay

He ran out of the limousine as gunshots could be heard all throughout the house as half his men made their way to the upper level while the other half wiped out the intruders on the lower level

He followed behind unit 0, making their way upstairs

He clung onto his gun tightly in his hand, finger ready on the trigger as he barged into the master suite, firing two bullets into the chest and head of a large man as he was pillaging the closets

All the precious jewelry he bought for you were now stained in the pool of the filthy blood of the man who had the audacity to enter the premises

His heart almost dropped seeing him in the closet in the first place but it didn’t seem like the man noticed the entrance to the safe room behind the clothes on the hangers

As he pushed the luxurious wardrobe aside opening the door and to his fear, you were nowhere to be seen

More gunshots sounded off, echoing through the halls, sounding off the walls

He couldn’t focus, his thoughts incoherent, unfinished sentences running in his head as he just ran, killing those in his way to find you

A gun war was going off throughout the library as Sakusa’s men fired at the intruders on both levels but they had great firepower too

Both sides hid behind the marble pillars, the different bookshelves and furniture in the room as the rain showered in

Your baby girl cried loudly, her shaken cries sounding off throughout the passage

“No, no, no, please, baby.” Your heart raced as you dared to look out the peephole, only for it to drop as you saw a man you didn’t recognize yell something to another man near him

The man he yelled to fired more shots while the other one approached the passage entrance, banging noises coming through the bookshelf

“She’s in here! Hold them off!” The man yelled

“No, no, no.” Tears welled in your eyes as you did your best to keep the door closed but there was no actual way to since this was just a simple passageway

Your daughter cried loudly in your arms while you gave it your all to keep the door closed

Amongst all the shots being fired, Kiyoomi heard the words the man yelled and then it clicked

He knew where you were

“No.” This one word repeated in his head as he pushed through the front, racing past the bullets being shot towards him as he ran on pure adrenaline

“Boss, no!” His men yelled but this only got the intruders to focus on him, giving them the opening to shoot them all

Kiyoomi shot the man closer to him in the legs before letting his body move on pure killer instinct as he grabbed the man who had fallen to his knees by his jaw, snapping his neck

The other man changed his focus to Kiyoomi as he stood to his feet while the other struggled to pull his gun from his holster

Kiyoomi towered over him as his body moved on his own

He kicked the man to the wall, pressing the barrel of his gun to the man’s chin, pulling the trigger without a second thought

You squeeze your eyes shut, facing the other way from the door, bracing yourself

“I love you. Mama loves you, baby,” you whispered as you cried, a loud rumbling filling your ears as you felt the door being forced open

This was it

You were going to die

Your daughter was doing to die

you let out a blood curtling scream feeling the hands of whoever grab onto you, pulling you, kicking your legs to try to fight

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!” Kiyoomi’s familiar voice sounded louder and louder over the rumbling you heard in your ears from clenching and bracing your body and your daughter’s

“It’s me, It’s just me!” He soothed you as he turned you

You couldn’t explain or even begin to describe the relief you felt wash through your body, your heart racing and slowing down at the same time as you broke down, your cries mixing with your daughter’s

“You’re safe, I’m here,” Kiyoomi pulled you into his arms, your body shaking terribly in his arms as you cried into his chest, all the fear you felt flooding your senses

“I know, I’m sorry this happened, but you’re okay. Everything will be okay,” he whispered as he pulled you into his lap, keeping the passage door somewhat closed

You were already put through enough today and he didn’t need you to see the second degree murder crime scene he had committed right outside

“I’m here, I’m here.” He reached up and pulled his mask off as he kissed the top of your head all over, wiping away your tears with his thumbs but you couldn’t stop crying

But that was entirely fine

“But Y/N,” he held your face in his bare hands, his normal gloves off as he stroked his thumb over your cold, damp cheeks

“Why didn’t you go into the safe rooms, darling?” His own voice was unsteady, his lips quivered, eyes teary. “I looked for you and I couldn’t find you and I thought I lost you..” His voice broke off as he gathered himself the best he could, taking deep breaths

Seeing Kiyoomi like this, it broke your heart even more

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what… I was just scared and- and-“ It hurt you so much

Everything about today did

But just this moment was Kiyoomi, it also touched you

He was such a stoic man, usually one to show a softer, affectionate side with you but this was the first time you saw him shed tears

A man who had taken so many lives was now showing his true emotions for the two lives he would give his own live for a hundred times over if it meant you and your daughter was okay

“I know, I know, but you’re safe,” he let out a deep, relieving breath as he hugged your head closer, your body shaking uncontrollably in his arms

“And hey, shhh, it’s okay baby. Papa’s here.” He stroked your daughter’s head as she sort of calmed down as the two of you sat together, doing your best as parents to shoo away her sadness while his men did their best to first and foremost clear the bodies and blood

You absolutely did not need to see that after today

“You two are both safe.” He breathed as he pulled you two impossibly closer, letting the shakiness of his own heart disperse

“You’re safe…”

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

Tags (let me know if you wanna be tagged or removed for all my haikyuu posts): @makeusfreefromthisfandom @yams046 @sunboikyo00 @kara-grayson04 @fortheloveofbakugo @tsumtsumsemi @1-800-wholesome @yamagucci @realityisoftendisapointing @plantisnotplant @pink-panda-pancakes @differentballooncollection @osamusamusamu@therainroguefanfiction @euphorihan @turquoiselace @macaronnv @oxmaddy @mrkoala4prsdnt @curiouslilbeast @plantisnotplant@therestless101 @abcdaichi @oyasenpai @kaaidalupita @lovinnoya @wisepandaslimeland @killuaking @kattykurr @bbymilkbread @tsumtsumland @suunikimchi @woah-there-cowboy-or-cowgirl @amandahh626 @nabisonyeo94 @wntrmn @dai-tsukki-desu @peteunderoos @ohyoumakemelive @aka-a-shii @shinhiromi @wompwomphq @lollypop-lam @isentsworld @blue-melody @u-wakatoshii @moondriplets @lovinnoya @yuueisteria @humanitysbiggestsimp @cjphoenix135 @inarizaki-captain @closetfurrytsukishima @chibichab @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @kuroosbixh @lavearchives @sweet-sour-devil-ish @daichis-kitty @creepyproxies @itsmarziapei @skyh20 @yehetstudies @that-chick212 @proherotheflamehashira @celestair @katiea03 @manga-only @chesirekittycat @ilovecheese08 @amy-yurima @realityisabitch-blr @suga-tofu @ushislittlewife @nabisonyeo94 @aaprilshowers @emotional-ayato @to-move-on-means-to-grow @kellesvt @haikyuu-galaxy @8-eight-8 @xiaoqiji @japanesevenom @cemeiia @pantherhappy @sassyglassesbunny @devilgirlcrybabiey @ushijimacentral asd

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu mafia #sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa imagines #sakusa x reader #sakusa scenarios #sakusa headcanons #sakusa kiyoomi imagines #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi scenarios #sakusa kiyoomi headcanons #dokifluffs #haikyuu dads

2K notes · View notes

buttercream-squad-imagines · 3 years

Text

Tinder in Real Life

Pairings: Harry Lewis x fem!Reader, Sidemen x platonic!Reader Word Count: 2k Warnings: Language some people may find offensive, sexual themes, recycled lines from Sidemen Tinder in Real Life because I'm not at all creative Request: Hey! Could you do reader x Harry imagine where the sidemen do a collab video with the reader who is also a big youtuber and Harrys celebrity crush. And during the video the reader is very flirty, leaving Harry a flustered mess when the flirting is directed towards him, but very jealous when its with any other sidemen.

The Sidemen were one of the biggest groups on YouTube and one that you were very familiar with. At the age of 23, you were a fair bit younger than some of its oldest members but yet you had a close relationship with JJ, whom you had met through YouTube.

You had started your channel when you were 17, just under four years ago, making makeup videos, which was a passion of yours when you were younger. Not that you were any good at it back then. Those videos quickly become unlisted when your channel started blowing up in late 2016, now nearing 20 million at the present time.

It wasn't long before you expanded your horizons and had started making different sorts of videos, including vlogs of your everyday life - which wasn't and still isn't that exciting in your opinion - and those where you just had a laugh, attempting to do stupid challenges that were so popular back then. It was those, however, that grew your channel. Your fans seemed to love them and so you gradually started to make more.

As your small channel began to grow significantly, it caught the attention of KSI, a member of the Sidemen, who reached out to you to for a collab. You were ecstatic. You couldn't believe it at the time, why would someone like KSI with 20 million subscribers want to collaborate with you? By that time, you couldn't exactly call yourself a small channel anymore, with almost 5 million subscribers but it still didn't make any sense to you.

You and JJ quickly bonded after filming together. You had a very similar sense of humour and interests. As the years went, the older boy became one of your best friends, the nature of your relationship being very teasing and flirtatious but the both of you knew it was a joke. It was just the way you both were.

Though despite having known him for nearing 3 years now, you had never met the rest of the Sidemen, with the exception of Simon, as he lived with JJ. Which is why when he texted asking you to collaborate with the Sidemen, you couldn't turn the offer down. You were a fan of the group and the content they were producing. You thought the videos that they made were exceptional, that they were pushing the envelope of the standard of content on YouTube and often found yourself excited for new videos.

He had explained that they were filming another of their 'Tinder in real life' but a YouTuber version with the likes of BambinoBecky and ChiWithAC. You were so excited. You were finally going to meet the rest of JJ's friends and you had the opportunity to be a part of a Sidemen Sunday.

You arrived at the studio the boys were filming at in the afternoon, finding and greeting JJ before he introduced you to the other sidemen in addition to Lux, Freezy and Stephen.

"And you've already met Simon." He finished.

"Yeah. Nice to finally meet you all. JJ tells me a lot about you guys." You laughed.

"Because that's assuring." Ethan pointed out with a chuckle, the other boys letting out agreements.

"Not all bad, I promise." You teased, winking at him. Ethan felt the blood rushing to his face, immediately becoming flustered and stumbling over his words. You found that you often had that effect on people as you could be very direct and flirtatious even when you didn't mean it. To you it was just friendly banter.

"Geez Y/N, stop flirting with people you met literally five minutes ago." JJ rolled his eyes.

"You sound a bit jealous, Jide." You smirked, a teasing grin spread across your face.

"Nah, allow it." There were eruptions of laughter around the room, coming from the boys. You were quick to notice Harry standing out of the way and was significantly quieter than the others, with what seemed to be a forced smile on his face.

Harry was in his own head, barely paying attention to what was going on around him. When JJ had told him that you were going to be in the next Sidemen video, he panicked. You were an accomplished YouTuber who he was quite fond of to say the least. Well, that would be an understatement, he had a fairly large crush on you. A crush that no one but Freezy and Lux knew about.

He knew that JJ had been friends with you for some time now but never considered the possibility of even meeting you. His anxiety acted as a barrier to even the thought of it. But he was currently in the same room as you and had said nothing more than a short 'hello'. He longed to have the confidence Ethan had to speak to you, even more so for you to look at him the way you were.

Already you were flirting with JJ and Ethan, something that caused a pit to form at the bottom of his stomach. He wouldn't admit it, but he could slowly feel the jealousy forming. Not that he had anything to be jealous about in the first place!

You continued to speak with the boys as you got your mic set up, telling them stories you were sure would embarrass JJ.

"Y/N, stop." The older boy whined. He could be like a child sometimes, but it was one of his more endearing qualities. He simply wouldn't be JJ if he wasn't.

"No, carry on." Simon laughed.

"Oh, don't worry, there's plenty more where that came from." You teased.

"I think it's time we started, don't you think?" Harry grumbled.

"Right." You smiled at the boy, who's cheeks became tinted red. He ducked to hide his face and walked around to stand in the line, hiding himself in the middle.

"Hi, I'm Y/N, I'm 23 and I'm from Y/H/T." You spoke to the camera once you were given the go ahead.

"I'm Simon, I'm 28. I like to practice safe sex."

"Always a good start."

"I could tie you to the bed, so you don't fall off." He finished with a giggle. You acted like you were pondering it for a moment before letting out a laugh and swiping right.

"I'm down for that." You teased. The boys all let out rumbles of laughter

"Hi, I'm Ethan, I'm 26 and kiss me if I'm wrong, but you're gonna swipe right."

"What would you rather?" You joked. Ethan shrugged his shoulders and walked closer to the board, sticking his head through with his lips puckered, eliciting a cry of protest from Harry that this wasn't allowed. You laughed and made an over exaggerated motion to swipe to the right, causing him to pout playfully but walked over to the right anyway.

"Hi, I'm Josh, I'm 28. KSI has a top ten single, but you're the only hot single I can see."

"Wow, that was smooth!" You said with a grin. "Definite yes from me."

"I'm Callum, I'm 26. Are you into fitness?" Freezy asked.

"Can't say I am." You replied, unsure of what turn this could take.

"How about you fitness dick in your mouth?"

"I wouldn't get too excited babes, I gag on my toothbrush." You laughed. "We could try though."

You swiped right on him, chuckling as you watched him let out a yes before joining Simon, Ethan, and Josh. You frowned slightly, a crease forming between your brows as you saw Harry whisper something furiously at his friend but ultimately got distracted by Vik stepping up to go next.

"I'm Vik, I'm 25. My ex-girlfriend always said I'd never do better than her, wanna prove her right?" You could hear the cries of the boys in the background, some scolding him, others laughing.

"Man actually said prove her right. Not wrong." JJ shrieked with a shocked look on his face, holding his head with his hands.

"You need to find someone for that." You snarked, swiping left on the boy, who shrugged and walked off.

"Damn! You got told!" Lux cackled.

"Uh hi. I'm Harry. I'm uh 25, no I'm not I'm 24." He stumbled. "Are you sure you're a muggle? Because that ass is magical."

"You should see how magical it can be." You spoke before cringing at yourself and laughing, swiping right to avoid a reply. The boy's face grew a bright shade of red, closely resembling the colour of a tomato.

"Geez, is that an offer?!" Freezy yelled from the right side. You laughed, observing how Harry whispered furiously to the boy to stop and winked at him once he had could see. Your laughter only increased as you watched JJ step up.

"I'm JJ. I'm 28 and are you a raisin? Cause you're raising my dick." The boy in question stood in front of you so confidently, hands clasped together in front of him so seriously that you just lost it. By the time you composed yourself, there were tears almost falling from your eyes.

"A* for effort." You laughed, swiping right eliciting a cry of success.

You had wrapped up filming your segment of the video, which conveniently was the last of the day. You found JJ who you spoke to whilst the other boys were otherwise occupied talking to each other.

"Cheers for coming, Y/N/N. You've been great."

"Anything for you." You joked.

"Don't tempt me." He laughed. You could feel eyes on you, eyes that were burning into your side. You turned your head to see Harry staring you and JJ down before looking away after being caught in the act, and suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

"Does Harry not like me or something?" You whispered to JJ, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden.

"Not that I know of." He frowned looking at the younger boy. "He can be a bit awkward at times and gets flustered a lot."

"Right." You agreed. You excused yourself before sauntering up to the boy in question, calling his name to snap him out of the daze he appeared to be in.

"Oh, um hey Y/N." He stumbled.

"Hi." You smiled gently. "I uh, I was just wondering, do you... have I done something to offend you?"

"Offend me? Why, uh, why would you think that?" He rambled.

"It's just... it's nothing, it's probably just me overthinking things." You waved it off, feeling like a complete idiot.

"I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that I don't like you. I don't not like you, in fact I really like you! Oh, um I mean I like you, you're very pretty." The boy couldn't stop rambling which made you laugh. "No, wait."

"You think I'm pretty?" You blushed interrupting him. Harry felt his mouth go dry, not being able to get anything coherent to come out. "Well, Harry, I really like you too."

"What?" His eyebrows shot up so far it was almost comical. "Really? So, you don't like the other guys?"

"What? No." You laughed. "That's absurd. Why would you think that?"

"You seemed very..." The boy trailed off, not wanting to offend you after you had admitted to liking him.

"Flirty?" You finished, causing him to nod. "I'm like that with everyone, I don't mean to be half the time."

"Oh."

"Well, how about you give me your phone number and when you finally grow a pair, you can ask me out?" Your confidence levels had shot up spontaneously.

"Uh, sure." His cheeks had become a dark shade of red as he passed his phone to you so you could put your number in. You kept looking up at him as you typed, putting your name under 'Y/N x' in his contacts before handing it back to him.

"Y/N! Come on! We're going to Nando's!" JJ called from the other side of the room.

"Call me." You winked. Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth and was currently the only thing from stopping the wide grin from spreading across your face. A grin that hadn't disappeared from your face for the rest of the day, much to the curiosity of JJ, who was disappointed when you refused to tell him why, or more appropriately who, had put the smile on your face.

1K notes · View notes

angry-geese · 3 years

Note

Sukuna requests. S/o makes fun of him all the time, calls him weak, etc. What nobody knows at the beginning is that s/o is significantly stronger than sukuna

The Definition of Human - Sukuna x Reader

Warnings: some swearing but its pretty tame. mention of death, and violence. Sukuna kind of needs his own warning. sfw. gn!reader.

a/n: as much as i love the idea of sukuna being soft for his human s/o i also love the thought of them being much stronger than him and him having no clue what do to with that

Word Count: 2.1k

You were just a sorcerer when he first met you, barely an adult, cast out by your village.

Someone so powerful hadn't been born for centuries. A sorcerer like you could turn the world of Jujutsu on its head. And that was the last thing they wanted to happen. The older you grew, the more unpredictable you became. You were far too strong for the village elders to handle. While you could have been a powerful ally, you would have been an even worse foe. The very people that had raised you, who taught you how to use your powers had begun to fear you.

Though you weren't trussed up like a sacrifice, you were sat by one of his altars like one.

It was only by chance you stumbled across such a thing. The surrounding woods were vast, and winding. No matter what path you took, you always seemed to wind back up by them. Perhaps it was a work of sorcery, meant to keep you lost in the woods forever. No trail seemed to lead back home. The village elders never expected you to last long on your own against the elements, let alone the King of Curses. But growing exhausted, and hungry, you had little choice but to stop and rest. The altar had offerings in the form of food, and a place to rest. Far more than Sukuna needed. You figured he wouldn't notice if you took a few things.

At the base of an altar sat a much smaller form. A human, one from the local village. Your shoulders were slumped, your arms curled around a bag. You didn't look sad, so much as you looked furious. You were talking to yourself, listing out all the ways you’d flatten each and every structure, how you’d salt the very earth they stood on, how you’d turn the once rich, fertile soil uninhabitable.

For having Sukuna’s interest in mind, he was certainly ready to burn it to the ground. Your village did little to appease the King of Curses. The humans in it were conniving, and rather quick to betray him. The relationship between the two was strained at best. In exchange for offerings in the form of crops, alcohol, and whoever decided to get on the village elders’ bad side, he wouldn't burn your home to the ground.

In a way, you were their last sacrifice to him, and by far his favorite.

As a child your parents had warned you, telling you never to go into the woods alone. A four armed man wandered out there, and he had a habit of making travelers disappear. Now that very same forest you once feared was your only sliver of comfort.

It took you a moment to realize he was standing there. And when you finally noticed him, you didn't look at him with the fear most humans did. There was a curious glint in your eyes. You sized him up, studied him in a way he wasn't used to.

In your hands you held an apple—an old offering—paring it with a knife. You were carving around the bruises. The texture of bruised apples always bothered you.

“It's dangerous to be out here alone, little one,” he said, eyeing you up like prey, “you should know that by now.”

“You’re the least of my worries, old man,” you said, popping a chunk of apple into your mouth.

You were still human. Strong, but human. You needed sleep, and food. If exposed to the elements too long you would freeze, or succumb to heatstroke or thirst.

“Old man?!” He said, clearly offended.

“What? You don't think I’ve heard the stories?” You asked. “You don’t scare me.”

And you were right. Even as he looked you in the eyes, you didn't back down once. You, unlike every other human from your village, weren't scared of him. He found you curious, and interesting. From the very moment your eyes locked with his, he was infatuated.

“I should frighten you,” he warned.

“You don't,” you said, “in fact, I think I could kick your ass!”

Expecting it to be an easy fight, he took your offer.

What resulted was a fight that would last days. Sukuna had never met anyone who could last so long against him. Let alone a human. Your strength was only rivaled by your unwavering rage. You were determined in a way he’d never seen before. Your village, along with half of the surrounding forest would be razed in the battle.

They had to have seen this coming. The child that is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel it's warmth.

And it's warmth you felt.

You couldn't imagine yourself being sad. You were too filled with anger and betrayal. There was no room left in your heart for sadness.

He remembers the look of the fires, and how they glinted in your eyes. He thinks that's when you began to turn into a curse.

After the third day, he had grown not only bored, but tired. It was clear neither of you were capable of destroying the other. He figured you were too tough to eat; you wouldn't make good meat. Uraume couldn't do a whole lot with you. And you were too combative to be a concubine. You would not go with him willingly. He's not one to give up, nor is he one to admit defeat, but he knows when he's not going to win. The two of you would mutually destroy the world before you would destroy each other. There was no end in sight. Sukuna simply wanted to leave.

So he simply headed for home.

That enraged you. After days of fighting, there was no climatic end to the battle. You wanted something more.

"Hey asshole!" You said. "You can't just walk away!"

"I know when I've met my match." He said. "Do you?"

"The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means this world will burn before we destroy each other."

The two of you were quite literally a match made in hell. You would be a powerful ally and an even worse foe. There was no point in fighting you.

He did nothing to stop you when you followed him.

You were more of a nuisance than anything else. He often found himself comparing you to a cockroach. No matter how many times he tried to squash, poison, or starve out you always came back. If he couldn't kill you, then he had to have you on his side. You weren't something to be deceived, betrayed, injured, or killed. You were stronger than that. You were sharp, too, with a tongue to match. Whether harsh words he threw your way, you returned in double. It was rare he found a human with quite a tongue on them. He often remarked about having it nailed to his door. You simply pointed at his servants and dared them to try it.

They never did. Anyone who dared harm you often met a gruesome fate, either at his hands, or yours.

He didn't consider himself capable of falling in love. And he isn't. To some extent. But love is what he felt. You were the closest to an equal the King of Curses had ever met. In many ways you surpassed him, but those who admitted it often met a swift death.

He moved onto the next village. So did you. Word had not yet spread of what happened. People knew of the fires, but not of the deaths, and your connection to them. You settled down, taking up work with the local shamans. Though you were a newcomer, your help was gladly accepted when Sukuna first showed up, demanding offerings.

In the beginning you tried to warn them. That didn't help. They never listened. It always ended the same way; with a razed village and a bunch of needless deaths.

Sukuna would visit. Often in the late hours of the night as you were trying to get some sleep. He did little more than steal your food, and make himself far too comfortable. Of course that's how most of your meetings went.

He's not sure when he fell for you. But it was something that happened all at once. After years of a back and forth between you two, something gave. You took a place right by his side. He found himself no longer taking concubines, no longer indulging in the sacrifices presented to him. He found himself consumed with the thought of you. He had to have you.

“I can't believe you’re all out of sake,” he said, one night while visiting.

“I wonder who’s fault that is,” you said.

He cast you a glare from across the room. You'd have to buy more in the morning anyway. But all the good stuff has been put up as an offering, and the only sake left in the market is watered down, and worth nothing to you. You don't drink the stuff all that much anyway, you just used it for cooking.

“I question why I keep you alive,” he said.

“I think if you could even kill me,” you said, “you would have by now. Someone as weak as you doesn't stand a chance.”

He didn't like this, and hauled you into his arms, carrying you away from your cooking.

“No!” You squealed, too busy giggling to put up much of a fight. “The rice is going to overcook!”

Sukuna couldn't care less about the rice. He tossed you rather carelessly onto your shared bed, caging you in his arms. The kiss he pulled you into was fleeting, and soft, like he was almost afraid to touch you.

When the village elders first discovered these meetings, it didn't take them long to exile you. The very people that had welcomed you had ignored your warnings and betrayed you. You had gone from respected, and even loved, to feared in an instant.

At some point you stopped trying to warn them. If you really wanted to, you could stop him. Delay him at best. Give people time to run. At least someone would survive. But after a while, you began to think some of them deserved it. The sacrifices they provided were never enough when Sukuna grew tired of toying with them. It was just you and him. Two constant presences in each other's life. You grew used to his company. Enjoyed it, even. You’d never tell him that. Mostly because you didn't want to inflate his ego even more. You were as much his as he was yours.

At some point you became more curse than human.

You could breathe, your lungs would fill with air, but the action provided no relief. You no longer felt the need to eat, and often found yourself forgetting to do so. Food turned to ash in your mouth. The enjoyment of eating was long since lost to you. You're alive, but you're not. Your heart beats but the blood that courses through your veins is not quite right. Your memories of yourself when you were younger fade. But the anger. That fear, that anger, cast into the past, is the only humanity left in you.

You found yourself falling asleep next to him, and in turn waking up next to him. Sometimes in his arms, sometimes on the other side of the bed. He found himself opening his arms for you to climb into. You would do so, albeit reluctantly.

You were his partner. You were a nuisance, but you were his partner.

"Am I dead?" You asked, one morning in the fall. You think it was fall. You remember the leaves turning yellow and orange, but it wasn't cold enough to be winter.

"I haven't killed you yet, so no." He said. "Why?"

"Because I woke up and saw your face, and thought I had finally gone to hell." You said.

His mouth opened, but no words came out. An offended sounding huff left him. He rolled over onto you, pinning you to the sheets. His knees planted on either side of your body, his hands found your wrists. It’d take no effort from you to throw him off. But you didn't. You never did.

“You’re not in hell yet,” he said.

“I'd beg to differ,”

“Then beg,”

“Make me!”

He attacked your neck with wet, open mouth kisses, sending you into a giggling fit. Your skin was warm under his lips. You were always so warm. You were flushed from your chest to your forehead, blush dusting the tips of your ears and your nose. Your arms wrapped around your neck, pulling him flush to your chest. Your heartbeat was audible, racing as he pressed his ear to your chest.

“Stay in bed a little longer,” he said. He was pleading more than he was asking. And you weren't able to find it in you to refuse.

It wasn't entirely awful having someone stronger than him.

#ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #this was either going to be called the definition of human or in hell i'll be in good company #possibly uncharacteristically soft sukuna #also i suck at tagging #goose answers

818 notes · View notes

ameliora-j · 3 years

Text

twin flame ii // gw x reader

words: 2k

warnings: angst. like a LOT. bestfriend breakup, mention of blood

a/n: this one is significantly shorter than the first,, sry besties :)

part one | part three | part four

your heart twisted itself in pained knots, increasing the pounding of your head tenfold. it had been this way for days now. christmas with the weasleys came and went and the tension between you and george was thick. you could barely even look at each other without passing hard glares. you had all planned to go to the field at the back of the burrow and play quidditch, and you were currently tasked with collecting george. you knocked gently on the twins’ door before opening it. “hi georgie,” you beamed.

“hello butterfly,” he spat the nickname bitterly and you were taken aback. you ignored the twinge of pain in your chest as you stepped further into the room.

“um… we’re all gonna go and play quidditch. if you wanna join,” you offered a smile. “i need my broom partner,” you had never learned how to fly a broom. you figured life should be lived on the ground, the way merlin intended it to be.

“no thanks,” he grumbled.

“c’mon georgie, we’re the dream team!” you persisted.

“why don’t you ask charlie to be apart of your dream team. seems he’s already replaced me with everything else in your life,” the last part was muffled, not intended for your ears, but you still heard it. you furrowed your brows slightly before answering.

“don’t be silly georgie, i can’t play quidditch without my partner. you can’t break up the dream team,” you pushed, ignoring your confusion.

“yn, i’d really rather not watch you eye-fuck my brother. go ask him to be on your team. or better yet, learn to fly a broom. it’s truly not that hard of a task, even a simpleton such as yourself should be able to catch on quickly,” he seethed.

your heart skipped a beat as it sunk to your stomach and tears pooled at your bottom lash line. you nodded once and pivoted on your heel to leave the room. you sniffled quietly as you closed the door to his room and went downstairs. “george?” fred asked as you came into view.

“he doesn’t wanna play,” you murmured half heartedly as you pushed passed the group of people to go outside. you released a sigh as you plunked yourself down onto the grass, lying back and throwing your arms over your eyes as you forced yourself to keep your tears at bay.

“hey, ynn, c’mon you can fly with me,” charlie offered with a smile as he held a strong arm out to you.

“nah, ‘s okay charlie. i’ll watch with fleur and hermione,” you murmured softly.

charlie’s brows furrowed slightly. you had never called him ‘charlie.’ it was always ‘char char.’ “you okay?” he asked and you simply nodded in response. he released a sigh as he jogged to the center of the field where his other siblings, and harry, were at.

“what happened mon amour?” fleur asked you softly.

“he called me stupid,” you sniffled. “said i replaced him with charlie but i didn’t,” you whimpered softly as you confided in the two girls sat on your sides. “he hates me. this was a stupid plan. ‘m just gonna go home,” you sobbed softly, causing fleur to pull your head to her lap as she trekked her fingers through your hair.

“i’m sorry, yn. i didn’t know he would react like this,” hermione spoke softly.

“not your fault, mione,” you murmured half heartedly as you stood and wiped your eyes. “‘m gonna go home,” you released a shaky breath as you pushed yourself to stand.

you dusted your bottom off as you walked back into the burrow. you waved your wand, packing your stuff neatly in your bag before you wrote a note, thanking molly and arthur and left it on the counter. you grabbed your bag and headed to the fireplace, throwing the floo powder and taking yourself to your childhood home.

“hey yn!” your older brother greeted. “thought you were spending break with the weasleys?” he asked, confused.

“yeah,” you murmured despondently as you walked up to your room.

“okay?” his brows furrowed slightly. when you got to your room, you took out a pair of sweatpants and a gryffindor sweatshirt that you stole from george’s wardrobe and forced yourself to shower.

the water was hot. boiling even. you should have flinched at the heat. screamed. cried. something. but you didn’t. you couldn’t. you were uncomfortably numb. so you just stood there, unmoving, staring at the shower wall as the scorching hot water fell over your body. your breaths came out irregularly as you stood there. your body was screaming for you to get out. to turn down the heat of the water. to do something to stop the pain of the burns. but your mind told you that you deserved this. you needed to feel something other than the pain twisting around in your chest.

by the time you stepped out, your skin was tinted with a slight pinkish color. you took a ragged breath in as you dried yourself off and pulled on the sweatpants and sweatshirt. you didn’t even bother brushing through your hair as you pulled up the hoodie and tied the strings tightly. you whimpered soft as your tears made a trail on the floor on your trek back to your room. you crawled out of your window and climbed up to the roof. you ended up falling asleep on your roof, exhausted from the weight of your tears.

you spent the rest of your christmas break—and longer—at your own home. you didn’t return untill fred had owled you telling you had three more days of paid vacation for the year. you flooed to your shared apartment with the twins and changed into your uniform, brushing through the knots in your hair that had accumulated over the days you laid in bed, sulking. you walked down the stairs into the shop as you pulled your hair into a ponytail and took your post at the till. “sorry ‘m late,” you murmured to fred, who appeared to be filling in for you at the present moment.

“you okay, bunny?” fred asked as he slid over so you could take over. you could only manage a despondent hum as you began working.

“thank you for shopping with weasley’s wizard wheezes, were you able to find everything okay today?” you asked the young wizard at the counter with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

that’s basically how the rest of your day went. forcing your tears back everytime george had to speak to you and being only half present with the customers instead of your usual lively self. when the day had ended and george locked the doors, you walked into the twins’ office and handed fred an envelope. “what’s this, bunny?” he asked you.

“my two weeks,” you murmured softly.

“you’re quitting?” he asked with raised brows.

“yeah,” you murmured. “found a job uh… closer to home. my brothers will be by to collect my stuff tomorrow,” you told him. “‘m gonna go pack,” you didn’t let fred say more as you quickly turned on your heel and walked back up to the apartment. “sorry,” you murmured as you bumped into george on your way up. he only gave you a distracted grunt in response.

as you walked up the stairs, you heard the argument brew between fred and george on your behalf. “fix her!” fred demanded.

“i didn’t do anything!” george defended.

“you broke her,” fred pushed back.

“she’s fine,” you could practically hear george roll his eyes.

“she’s quitting.” fred deadpanned.

“what?” george asked, shock lacing his tone.

“and she’s moving back with her brothers. so go and fix her. make this right,” you decided to end your eavesdropping here and rushed upstairs and into george’s room, where all your things were kept. you knelt on the floor as you took out your suitcases. you were halfway done when you heard the door creak open.

“butterfly?” your heart twisted and tears stung the backs of your eyes at the nickname you hadn’t heard in over a week. “whatcha up to?” he asked.

“packing,” you murmured softly, but he heard. and boy did he miss your voice like hell.

“for what?” he asked curiously as he sat on his bed.

“‘m moving back home. got a new job,” never once did you look up from your task, for you knew if you did, you would break.

“where at, butterfly?” he knelt on the floor in front of you as he began to help you fold your clothes.

“some muggle bookstore. ‘s close to the house,” your murmurs could barely be heard over the loud thumping of both of your hearts. however, george picked up on every word. he grasped your hands in his, effectively stopping your progress. “george please,” you whispered.

“look at me, butterfly,” he demanded softly.

“george,” you repeated a little bit louder.

“look at me. and tell me this will make you happy. and i will let you walk out that door.” you didn’t. you couldn’t. you knew that this isn’t what you wanted as well as he did. “you can’t, right? because it won’t,” he pointed out.

“i can’t be here, george. i don’t want to be,” you told him, still refusing to meet his gaze.

“why? because of me? because i will leave. yn, if that’s what it takes to make you happy, then i will walk out of that door and go back to live with mum. you only ever have to see me in a professional setting. and i’ll communicate with you through fred at work,” he spoke seriously.

“i don’t want that, george. and neither do you,” you told him.

“i don’t, but if it makes you happy then that’s what you’ll get,” he told you.

“no george!” you shouted.

“then what do you want?!” he shouted back.

“you george!” you yelled, finally meeting his gaze. “i want you! i’ve only ever wanted you but you’re too fucking stupid to see what’s right in front of you! i mean merlin’s beard george i’ve been in bloody love with you since fifth fucking year but you’re never seen it!” you finally released all the emotions you’ve been holding in for years. “i just wanted you,” you whispered softly, your voice cracking as tears fell.

you pushed yourself to stand from the floor and waved your wand, packing the rest of your stuff as you grabbed your suitcase. “butterfly, i-“ you quickly cut him off.

“don’t, george.” there was acrimony written all over your tone. “i don’t want your pity.” you sniffled and hastily wiped your eyes. you passed fred on your way out.

“yn?” he asked softly.

“bye fred,” you murmured softly. “i changed my mind. my resignation is effective immediately. i won’t be in tomorrow.”

“yn wait,” fred called.

“please don’t,” you shook your head. “d-don’t try and get me to stay. please just… just leave me alone,” you sniffled.

“i’m sorry…” he spoke softly. you just shook your head and wiped your tears away as you flicked your wand to apparate back home. when you landed on the road a few miles away from your house, you let out a wail of agony. your arm had splinched during the apparition process. you took a deep breath and pushed yourself through it. you knew this was a bad idea. every wizarding book in history advised against it. even a muggle would know not to. but you pushed past the thoughts to apparate into your living room.

“yn!” your older brother shouted as he saw you, blood pouring from your splinched right arm. you were only able to take two steps before you fell to the floor of your living room. you let out a soft groan and a whine of agony before closing your eyes, letting the feelings consume you. the pain in your arm cancelled out the pain in your chest as you let darkness overcome you, falling into the void, listening to the frantic screaming voices of your siblings.

stupid feelings. stupid boys. stupid george weasley. stupid twin flame.

twin flame. it’s almost laughable now. what a lie.

tags: @i-love-scott-mccall @ellerosie2332 @rmvb24 @astralpcrker @daisybloommm @maybeisthemoon @moonliightbabes @stormi-ames @jochim322 @coninl @melonoptimist @lunajoyce3 @clairdemoony @mangoberry99 @imclueless @enya-2004 @prongsyy @lol-whoandwhat-is-dis @burnfleur @anything444ourmoony @horrorxweasley @alicecullens-gf @theincredibledeadlyviper @georgeweasleyshoe3697 @narwhalebaby

* crossed out means i couldn’t tag you

add yourself to my taglist

or the series taglist

#twin flame #george weasley #harry potter #harry potter x reader #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley #george weasley x reader #best friends to lovers #harry potter angst #harry potter smut #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fluff #george weasley smut #george weasley angst #george weasley fluff #twin flame series #twin flame part two

493 notes · View notes

j-diamond · 3 years

Text

Score (Flynn x Reader)

“Flynn, we’ve been rowing for,” you pause looking around, "for nearly forever!” You sigh, “Flynn, where are we going?” “Somewhere.” He pauses looking at what you assumed was a compass, “anywhere.” He meets your inquisitive eyes and slumps, “Nowhere.” You pause, irritation beginning to settle in. “Flynn Ryder!” You throw the oars into the bottom of the boat, “I freaking knew it!” You groan, letting your frustration publicly be known. After a long pause you sigh, “Flynn.” He looks at you, puppy dog eyes at the ready. You chuckle softly at him, “I can’t lie, this is gonna severely impact your heisting score.” His face falls, “You can’t be serious!!” He asks, searching your face for an ounce of insincerity. You raise an eyebrow at his antics and he slumps again, “But I got the goods.” He grabs his satchel, revealing the stolen goods as if it would illustrate his point. :this is 24 karat gold!” You shrug, “What good is all that if we’re stranded? Definitely deducting major points.” Your face softens and you smile, “Listen I know you’re trying.” You caress his face, “But I won’t always be here and-” “What’s that supposed to mean?” He interrupts, his eyes catching your own. You raise your eyebrow, “What do you mean?” You look at him, genuine confusion on his face, “The bounty on my head is significantly larger than yours. At a certain amount, it’ll become way too dangerous for me to be around you. At that point I’d have to leave you on your own.” Your face falls when you see his, “Why would you have to leave me?” He asks, a whirlwind of emotions swirling through his eyes, the main one you’re able to read as concern.

“I’m sorry?” Your brows forough, “You’re my best friend Eugene.” Your pause trying to collect your thoughts, “And I care for you deeply. We’ve been through thick and thin for almost three years now. Basically since the orphanage.” Both of your breaths hitch at the shared memory, “If at any point my existence threatens your wellbeing, I’ll cease association.” You sneak a look at him, only to see his eyes nearly glazed over. You immediately look away, “I don’t want you to get hurt because of me, I couldn’t live with myself should that happen.” He grabs your hands, commanding your attention, “But I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt, and I wasn’t there to stop it.” His grip tightens, “And you may be more experienced, and older- only by a few weeks,” you chuckle at that, “But I think-” he pauses, “No, I know.” You watch his eyes looking at your hands in his, “I love you.” He lessens his grip, “and anything I do, I want to do with you.” He smirks, placing a kiss on your hands. “If you’re up for it, that is.” It’s your turn to stare at your hands, as a smile graces your face. You try to sneak a glance, only to make direct eye-contact. Your thoughts are calmed by the feeling of one of his hands glossing your cheek. You must’ve been crying. “So, with that being said, Y/n Stabbington, will you be willing to give yourself the honor of me being your boyfriend?” You chuckle, the mood shifting from his smug sense of wording. “Woah, The Flynn Rider, begging to be my boyfriend? If we weren’t in the middle of nowhere, you’d be drawing a crowd.” You put your finger to your chin, feigning being in deep thought, “Seeing as I have nothing better to do. Sure, why not? You can be honored by being my boyfriend.” “Well aren’t you kind?” He quips, rolling his eyes, “May I, your lowly, but handsome, newfound boyfriend receive a kiss from thy royal highness?” You roll your eyes, nevertheless you meet him halfway. Your lips collide, and a feeling of completion washes over you. Everything just seemed to fit into the right place. You pull apart, “see that wasn’t so bad” “Not so bad, but pretty bad.” You smirk, “But I’m willing to help you practice.”

“Eighty-four.” You whisper begrudgingly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that? Could you say that a bit louder?” He says, flaunting that same smirk, the one you find yourself mirroring, “Fourty-eight.” You say confidently, watching his face fall momentarily, “Which, in case you hadn’t known, is not a passing score.” You pretend to look bummed. “Wait. NO! My score was eighty-four. I distinctly remember you saying that earlier.” He argues, and you raise an eyebrow, “So why did you ask again?” “I just wanted to confirm that I passed.” “Mhm. Suure.” You roll your eyes at his behavior. “Not that it matters much though.” He looks at you, waiting for you to elaborate. “That score just means I trust you enough to be in charge of our heists. Doesn’t mean you’re actually good at heisting.” You smirk at him, and he mimics your face in a playful manner, “Ha, ha, ha.” He says dryly, “just admit you love me and you think I’m a good thief now.” “Well, I can say that I do love you…” you start, as you approach your hideout, “Not sure about that second part.” He rolls his eyes at you as you two, sneak to the basement where you hid all your treasure. “And I love you too.” He smiles, as he pulls you in for a quick kiss. “That’s all that really matters isn’t it?” A light blush settles on your cheeks, as you find yourself at a loss for words. “Cute.” Your eyes widen as you playfully hit him. “Anyways, I think we’re nearly there.” You survey your different piles of goods, “Pretty soon I think we’ll have enough to finally have a nice quiet place on a private island or something.” He nods, “A private island, all to ourselves.” He reminisces, “and by ourselves I do mean us, not your brothers.” You pull a fake shocked expression, “What? I can’t take Sideburns or Patchy with us?” You ask, pretending to feel sad at the news, “You don’t trust my older brothers?” He roll his eyes at your behavior, “I trust them as far as I can throw them.” He goes to sit at his desk, as he begins looking at floor plans. “Anyways, if we can manage to steal this crown, we’ll finally be set.” You nod, “Or we can just leave it alone. That’s the only thing they have to remember their lost daughter.” You suggest as you removed your blue vest, placing it on your chair. You didn’t really like the idea of traveling to Corona. He turns around to look at you, an eyebrow raised, “Sentimental are we?” He teases, “No, it’s just Corona is the place where my bounty originated, I’m pretty sure they have my face planted everywhere.” You walk over to a pile and pull out a larger bejeweled necklace, “This was their queens. I’d rather not return there. Plus they behead their prisoners…” His hands go his neck and he gulps, “You know, I don’t even think that crown is worth much anyway.” He says as he pushes the plans aside. The sound of knocking startles you and you look at Flynn. “I’ll get the door. It’s probably my brothers.” You say and he grunts. You roll your eyes at him as you finally approach the door, “Hello?” You open the door to find a piece of paper. You sigh, as you hear Flynn approaching. “What is it?” He asks and you show him the paper, “you can’t be serious?” Anger laces his tone, and you nod, “They’re my brothers.” You say through gritted teeth, “and as much as both of us dislike them, I have to rescue them.” He sighs as he grabs his satchel, “We have to rescue them.” He gives you a quick peck as you head out, “though they’re gonna owe us big, forcing us to travel to Corona.” You nod in agreement.

“I don’t care. We’re taking that crown.” Flynn states angrily as he paces the room, “They took the only person who I cared about from me, and so I will take that crown. Then they’ll have nothing to remember their precious princess by.” The brothers share a look, “Only because Y/n trusted you.” Sideburns says, and Patchy nods in agreement, “It’s going to take at least two years, to have solid plans.” Flynn gives them a desperate look, “I don’t care how long it takes. I am getting that crown.” He looks at your now empty chair. The only thing sitting there now was your blue vest. He places his hand on it, tears slowly rolling down his face. If this was the only way to honor your memory, then he swore he’d never take it off.

#flynn rider #flynn x reader #rider x reader #flynn rider x reader #eugene fitzherbert #eugene fitzherbert x reader #eugene x reader

369 notes · View notes

moonlitceleste · 2 years

Text

souvenir

New team, new crush, new year—it's time for new beginnings, and for Marinette to stop falling head-over-heels for people who will never like her back.

ao3

A/N: This fic is based on Souvenir by Selena Gomez! A little background for anyone unfamiliar with Young Justice: Wally likes to keep souvenirs from missions that he later puts into a display case, so I thought it was fitting. Wally is 19 and Mari is 17—ages aren’t really relevant in this but I thought I’d mention it anyway. I did write this entire thing at an ungodly hour, so it has not been proofread in the slightest, but I hope you enjoy anyway!

New York back in August, tenth floor balcony Smoke is floating over Jane and Greenwich street Goosebumps from your wild eyes when they're watching me Shivers dance down my spine, head down to my feet

“Team, meet Ladybug.”

Marinette stood tall next to her older brother as his voice projected across the room, trying not to fidget with the yo-yo at her side. The four-year anniversary of her becoming Ladybug was quickly approaching, and many things had changed since the fateful day she came home to find that hexagonal box on her desk. From a lost 13-year-old to a more assured Guardian, she had grown more than she could possibly imagine, but this was an entirely different conquest. For one, it was uncharted territory—she would be joining an already-established team of heroes who had gone through hell and back together, and she would be the rookie; most significantly, she wouldn’t be the leader. As someone who had been raised as a fairly independent individual and thrived in leadership positions, it was staggering, like being able to navigate the treacherous terrain of one world, only to be unceremoniously dumped into an unfamiliar sea of carnivorous, slavering creatures that were eager to rip her apart limb-by-limb. Of course, her situation wasn’t quite as gruesome, but it could quickly become so if she didn’t learn to adapt.

Despite her catastrophizing, it had been entirely Marinette’s decision to join the Young Justice team after spending her summers training with the Order in Tibet. Her parents sent her to visit Bruce that time of year, which made it easy for her to get away and complete the necessary training to become Grand Guardian. Even with Hawkmoth defeated, though, it hadn’t felt right to let the Miraculous sit in disuse, so she followed her instinct and figured joining another superhero team was the best she could do. She had an in, with Batman being her biological father and all, but the prospect was still daunting. She was joining the big leagues now, and she had to act the part.

Speaking of, it was interesting to see the way Dick interacted with his teammates. She had seen her family in action in Gotham—even joined them on patrol more than a few times—but something about the gloomy city put an extra mask on all of them, enough to damper any good mood. Here, her brother was different. Brighter, almost. She only ever saw him like that around his school friends, though she supposed Wally did count. She could feel the redhead’s gaze on her as Dick continued to talk, and she let her eyes drift over the lineup until they landed on him. She hadn’t seen him in over a year thanks to her trip to Tibet, but there he was: Kid Flash, in all his mustard-and-ketchup glory. His hair was windswept, enhancing the exhilarated look that all speedsters seemed to share. Considering that she and everyone else in the immediate vicinity had heard him super-speeding into the room a minute ago, his disheveled appearance wasn’t surprising. There was a dorky, wide-toothed grin on his face that was ever-present and currently directed at her. The corners of her mouth instinctively tugged up in response, but she quickly quelled the smile to adopt a more stoic look, a habit she chalked up to being inherited from Bruce. Regardless, she pushed all extraneous thoughts away until the introduction was finished, after which she found herself being swept away by her brother to talk to Zatanna. According to him, the magician was excited to meet another magic user, especially a Miraculous wielder. Marinette was similarly delighted, letting herself be pulled along, but as Dick tugged her hand, she spared a glance behind her to acknowledge a certain red-haired speedster and wave.

Swimming in your eyes, in your eyes, in your eyes Egyptian blue Something I've never had without you

“Nice job out there.”

Marinette yelped as a smooth voice spoke right into her ear, the accompanying warm breath sending a chill down her spine. Wally narrowly dodged the offending punch she sent, ducking before she could slug him in the face. She hadn’t expected anyone to come into the room, and she certainly hadn’t heard anyone come inside. Talk about warning a girl. Her palms came to rest on her chest as if they would slow her racing heart. “Kwami, you scared me.”

“Still on the adrenaline rush?” he chuckled.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted.

“Well, you did great out there, especially since it was your first time against Klarion. Two weeks in and you’re already better than me!”

Marinette flushed, feeling her cheeks warm. “Don’t sell yourself short. It’s just because I have magic.” She wiggled her fingers, which made her look more like a poor imitation of a ghost than anything. “Besides, you did really great too! That last maneuver was pretty cool.”

“Ah, well, you know me! Cool.” He puffed his chest out, leaning back with crossed arms only to miss the counter behind him and go flailing backward. He landed on the floor gracelessly, looking very put-out at the fall. Marinette burst into laughter at his expression, and a few seconds later, he followed in suit. She laughed until her lungs were gasping for air and her cheeks hurt from smiling, and when it died down into a comfortable silence, she chanced a look at his face.

Wally was beaming, wild and untethered and free. It reached his eyes, endless fields of lush grass and emeralds that pulled her in like an unstoppable force. It was like the sensation of falling, of tumbling head-over-heels into his ardent gaze—but perhaps she had been falling all along. It sent a thrill through her, the zap of a lightning bolt not unlike the one on his uniform. It left her breathless.

“Oh! Um… I got this for you.” She didn’t know why she chose that moment to speak up, but she had to do something, anything to break the clamoring of voices in her head. Reaching behind her, she grasped the object she had kept from the earlier fight and held it up. “Teekl’s collar. It got torn off during the fight, and I figured you’d want to keep it. Dick told me you liked keeping things from missions.”

Her words became more unsure the more she spoke, but her worries were swept away as Wally practically bounced up, a delighted expression taking hold. He took it from her hands in an almost reverent manner, and she tried to ignore the tingling she felt when his fingers brushed hers.

“Souvenir!” he whooped, waving it over his head. “Oh man, I can’t wait to show everyone how cool this is.” He was almost vibrating out the door with excitement, and Marinette smiled at his antics. Just as she expected him to leave, he turned back, and in the blink of an eye she found her arms full of a hyper speedster. “Thanks, M. You’re the best!”

“You’re welcome,” she laughed. He bounded out, leaving her in the bathroom alone. Marinette turned to the mirror and sighed, hoping her face hadn’t shown anything more than she wanted it to. At the end of the day, Wally was… well, him, and she was just his best friend’s little sister.

You're giving me chills at a hundred degrees It's better than pills how you put me to sleep Calling your name, the only language I can speak Taking my breath, a souvenir that you can keep Giving me chills

Marinette threw the covers off her bed and stood with a frustrated growl. The fact that it was 2 in the morning was the only thing keeping her from ranting her frustration aloud. For some reason or another, she just couldn’t sleep. She had tried everything from meditation to pills, but it had eluded her the last two weeks. She could already feel it taking a toll, her movements groggier and her brain obscured with fog—not exactly ideal for someone meant to be in peak condition. But trying to sleep had done nothing but make her frustrated and more tired, so she made the executive decision to go downstairs. To do what, she didn’t know, but anything would be better than lying in bed, listening to every little creak and mechanical bump.

She grabbed her sunglasses from the counter, sliding them over her nose. She doubted anyone was awake, but better to be safe than sorry. Besides Wally, no one knew her identity or the fact that she was related to Dick. She wasn’t keeping it under wraps the way she had when Hawkmoth was still active, but she was still the Grand Guardian, and the less people who knew, the better. Still, any of their teammates could connect the dots given their closeness to Dick. Her identity was implied, surely.

Marinette tiptoed her way out of her room, making sure to slide her door carefully shut behind her, before sneaking out to the kitchen. Mount Justice was normally completely dark after everyone went to bed—she wasn’t going to lie, it was a little spooky at night—but she could see a faint light alongside muffled talking noises which she concluded came from the lounge. Someone had probably left the TV on by accident. She decided to turn it off after grabbing a glass of water, switching the stove light to its lowest setting before standing on her tiptoes, reaching overhead to grab a glass from the wooden cabinet. Just as she wrapped her hand around the cool mug, she heard a voice. “Hey, Mari!”

The glass nearly dropped from her hands as she nearly jumped out of her skin, barely saving it from meeting its doom and shattering all over the counter. Before she could shriek out of sheer shock, a hand slapped across her mouth and pulled her close. Well, if she wasn’t awake before, she certainly was now. “Calm down! It’s me, Wally.” Oh. Now that appeased her annoyance the tiniest bit, if only because she couldn’t think of anything other than the way her back was pressed flush again his body. “I’m going to take my hand off. Please don’t scream.” His hand left her face, and as soon as the warmth on her back disappeared she whirled around, glaring.

“We have got to stop meeting like this,” he joked. Marinette was not amused.

“What on Earth possessed you to think that was a good idea?” she seethed through gritted teeth. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Sorry, sorry!” the redhead winced. “I just heard someone come downstairs and wanted to see who it was.”

“Fine,” she grumbled, making her way to the sink to fill the glass still in her hand. “But why are you awake at this hour, anyway?” Wally raised an eyebrow and gestured to her, a silent et tu? “Touché.” They both stood, listening to the quiet chatter of the television and the burbling of water. She could feel him searching her face all the while.

“Hey, you ok?” The ambiance was broken; Marinette had no choice but to face him, that low voice now unnaturally solemn. He was still looking at her, his eyes piercing yet soft in that hypnotic way, and she guessed he had noticed the bags under her own.

“I’m just tired. Can’t sleep and all that.” She shot him a rueful smile.

“Me neither,” he replied. “I’ve tried, but it only makes me more… ” he paused, as if racking his brain for the right word.

“Restless,” they finished in tandem. Wally gave her a surprised smile that stole the breath from her lungs, and she let out a quiet exhale.

“Anyway, I’ve been watching TV ever since.” Ah. Marinette eyed the bags on chips laid out on the counter. “It would be nice to have some company,” he continued, “and I heard there’s some leftover cake in the fridge.” He drifted closer to her as he talked, until she only needed to shift an inch to bump her leg to his.

“Are you suggesting we raid the fridge?”

“Well, if you insist,” he grinned.

Half an hour and a slice of chocolate cake later, Marinette was fast asleep, wrapped in a burrito blanket with her head resting on Wally’s shoulder. He tilted his chin to look down at her. Her bangs fluttered with each soft exhale, and the light from the television illuminated the delicate curves of her face. Wally slowly reached for the remote and turned it off, taking care to reduce his movements so as to not wake her up.

As gently as he could, he let her head rest on the couch before lifting her blanket-swathed body into a bridal carry. As a speedster, he liked to use his abilities whenever they could convenience him, but he refrained this time in fear of jostling the sleeping girl. The weight of her in his arms was grounding, the journey to her room seeming much shorter than he recalled.

Wally pushed her door open and set her down on her bed, pulling up the covers with care. Even in sleep she looked ethereal, hair fanning across her pillow in a way that should have been messy but instead looked radiant. He placed the sunglasses she had removed earlier on her dresser and gave her one last glance that lasted a beat longer than it should have. He tore his gaze away and slowly crept to the door, but right as he touched the handle, he heard a mumbled, “Wally.”

He turned on his heel, expecting Marinette to be awake, only to be met with that same peaceful expression. He frowned, scratching the back of his neck in confusion. Maybe he really did need sleep. He was starting to imagine things.

Sunset Tower lobby, waiting there for me In the elevator, fumble for your key Kissed in every corner, Presidential Suite Opened that Bordeaux from 1993

“What the hell was that?”

“Excuse me?”

Wally was leaning on the wall left of the medical bay, arms crossed and an irate look on his face. Marinette looked around, bewildered. Did she miss something? She had been getting her wounds tended to for the last hour alongside the majority of their team. They had taken a large blow from the strange new villain they had been up against, one that had no name and was unusually strong. Luckily, her suit was impenetrable and indestructible. Not-so-luckily, as she discovered today, it was not so impervious to brute force. She had been thrown around Paris more times than she could count and flung from the top of the Eiffel Tower, but apparently getting tossed around by a hulking monster was too much. Still, she wasn’t sure why Wally was acting like this. She had only seen him truly angry every once in a blue moon, and his righteous fury was only directed at villains. So what was it now?

“What happened?” Marinette asked, walking over to him with a concerned frown.

“What happened?” he mocked derisively. She recoiled at the harsh tone. “You don’t even know what you did, do you?”

“No, so tell me.” She was starting to get annoyed at his accusation, anger rising to combat his, but she used the technique she frequently employed during Hawkmoth’s reign and took a deep breath.

“You put yourself in danger out there when you called that monster’s name,” he said as he stalked closer to her. “It was reckless and really, it was stupid.”

Stupid? Oh, she so was not letting this go. “You’re right.”

“Really?” his face quickly morphed into one of surprise.

“Yeah, I guess I should have just let it kill our teammates and crush Kon under its sasquatch feet.” Frustration again.

“You know what I meant!” he ground out. “You don’t need to go throwing yourself into danger for no reason.”

“Wow!” she laughed. “For no reason, he says. Is that what you really think about your team?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why does it matter to you?”

“Because you can’t just do stuff like that without thinking of the consequences!”

“Don’t you dare treat me like I’m stupid. I did what I did because our team was in danger. Like I said, it was about to go after Kon!” She could hear her voice starting to rise in correspondence with his.

“Kon is invulnerable!”

“So am I!”

Her shout rang through the silence, giving way to her heaving breath.

“If that were true, you wouldn’t be needing that,” he nodded to her cast. Marinette closed her eyes, steeling herself.

“You know what? I’m done here. Clearly it’s not me you’re really mad at.” She motioned to leave, but as she reached the door, a hand caught her wrist.

“Wait.” Marinette turned, looking at him expectantly. “I’m sorry.” Wally’s apology seemed genuine from the way he was staring at the ground, like if he looked hard enough he would gain Superman’s x-ray vision and burn a hole through it. After a moment he looked at her, which really wasn’t fair. It was hard to stay mad at him when his eyes transfixed her like a siren. “You’re right. It wasn’t okay for me to get mad at you like that. I just…” He took a deep breath. “I care about you. A lot. And seeing that monster go after you like that…I was scared you would get hurt.”

Marinette felt herself soften at his explanation. Curse her inability to stay mad at people she cared about. “I can protect myself, you know,” she started. “I’ve been a hero for years, and I’ve led my own team. You don’t need to look after me just because I’m Dick’s little sister.”

Wally frowned, looking some variation of hurt. “You’re not just Dick’s little sister to me.”

Marinette didn’t have time to think about what that meant as she felt herself leaning in, in, in, pulled by his magnetic gaze like a moth to a flame. She was sure he felt it too, that undeniable tug in his chest. But then Kaldur walked out of the medbay, and all she felt was doubt and hesitation as Wally pulled away. Kaldur sent a polite nod their way, but the look he gave her was almost knowing. Marinette waved back, face hot.

“I should go,” she told Wally hesitantly. “Unwind and all that.”

“Yeah, me too. I got a new souvenir to add to the case. See you later?” She nodded and they split ways amicably. But on the trek to her room, she couldn’t help but feel like something had changed.

Swimming in your eyes, in your eyes, in your eyes Egyptian blue Something I've never had without you

If something had changed, maybe she was the only one who felt it. Marinette spent longer than she’d like to admit dissecting what he’d said. You’re not just Dick’s little sister to me. But what did that mean?

She knew what she wanted it to mean. Somewhere along the way, she had stopped seeing Wally as Dick’s goofy best friend—if she ever had in the first place. She wondered if he meant it the same way. When she saw him, it was a chorus of Wally, Wally, Wally, haunting green eyes and a brilliant smile. Every wayward glance he sent her during meetings made her heart skip a beat, every grin made her feel like Ladybug, soaring through the sky.

Maybe it would be simple infatuation if things were how they had been a few years ago. But they now lived in the same mountain, shared a team, shared moments hidden in the blanket of night. She knew it was more than a simple crush on her end. She wasn’t sure if there was anything at all on the other, because if Marinette knew one thing about Wally West, it was that he was an incorrigible flirt. He was notorious for it—between seeing it for herself and hearing Dick talk about his flirting fails, it was something you could count on, yet she’d never been on the receiving end. In fact, she hadn’t heard any of his one-liners in the months since she’d joined the Young Justice team.

Maybe it was the simple case of growing up. Maybe he just didn’t like her. Whatever the case, it didn’t matter, because the unwritten rules went like this: even if the world is ending, know that Wally West is still a flirt, and even if the world is ending, know that Marinette Dupain-Cheng is still in love with Wally West.

Take my, take-take my breath away just like Take my breath away just like a souvenir Take my, take-take my breath away just like Take my breath away just like a souvenir

New Year’s: catalyst of stupid who will be your midnight kiss? billboards, soon-to-be-broken resolutions, posts of happy couples, and most importantly, a reminder that Marinette would be forever alone. Apparently even villains took New Year’s off, because the day had been punctuated by a startling lack of crime. And it wasn’t like she wanted the team to get an urgent call, but anything would be preferable to the party they had planned later. Watching other people make out while she was stranded alone wasn’t exactly her idea of a fun time. Alas, the universe hated her, which was ironic considering the whole purpose of being Grand Guardian was to maintain its balance. Or maybe it was just telling her she was doing a bad job at it. Either way, she was fighting a losing battle, but she would go down in style.

Marinette had a particular inclination to design showy clothing. Perhaps it was a side effect of being around Jagged Stone for so long, surrounded by the likes of Audrey Bourgeois and having so many formal dress commissions. These factors all translated into the inordinate amount of non-casual attire she had in her closet, most if not all by her own design. She had a particularly flamboyant dress perfect for New Year’s, one that had taken painstaking experimentation but resulted in her dream fringe dress—not too understated nor gaudy. She paired it with low strappy heels and minimal makeup, glancing in the mirror on her way out to make sure there was nothing that could become an embarrassing faux pas.

When she arrived, the party was in full swing—well, as full swing as a party with a dozen or some people could be. Most of her teammates were gathered in the kitchen, where there was a variety of food laid on the counter. There was a tiered cake in the center, a combined effort of the girls. Marinette and M'gann had come up with the idea somewhat last-minute, but she enjoyed spending the day with her friends. Watching their almost disastrous baking fails was quite amusing.

She weaved her way through her teammates, waving at each person she passed by. Her first stop was with Dick and Wally, who were engaged in an intense debate about which Justice League member would be the last survivor in a zombie apocalypse. She gave her brother a welcoming hug, reveling in the comfort of his warmth. Wally stood to the side; she could feel him watching from the chills that erupted along the trail of his stare. She greeted him similarly but didn’t linger as long, both for her own sake and due to Dick’s presence. Their conversation resumed with a third party, and Marinette wouldn’t deny stirring the pot with her own thoughts. It seemed as if Plagg had worn off on her more than she thought.

After causing a fair amount of chaos, she conversed with a few different groups, joining in on the chatter and games. Her spirits were significantly lifted, though she couldn’t quite forget the prospect of the midnight kiss hanging over her head like mistletoe. Mistletoe might’ve been preferable, actually, because at least she would have someone. For now, though, she tried to ignore the way her eyes always seemed to drift over to Wally and instead focus on the present, which was filled with the laughter of her newfound family.

As it approached midnight, the volume in their abode waned. Marinette had instinctively stuck by the core group of girls, but everyone was starting to converge in the lounge for the countdown. There was a fireworks countdown displayed on the television, and she could already see people drifting off towards their chosen person: M’gann with Conner, Dick with Zatanna…she quickly decided that the best course of action was to temporarily relocate somewhere farther or to go back to her room entirely. Everyone was so engaged with their partner of choice, she was sure no one would notice if she slipped away. Her mind made up, Marinette slinked away, about to exit by way of the kitchen. Before she could even make it out of the lounge, a voice stopped her in her tracks. “Where are you headed?” Okay, she really needed to speak to the universe. Someone clearly had it out for her.

“I was just going to my room. Uhm, wardrobe malfunction.” Lie. Wally looked her up and down, and pressed her lips together nervously. He wasn’t checking her out, she scolded her straying mind.

“You look more than fine to me. Did you make that yourself?” he nodded to her ensemble.

“Yeah, I did. Last year, actually.”

“Well, it looks great on you.” A pause. Marinette took the opportunity to fake a yawn, wincing behind her palm at how fake it sounded. Wally wasn’t as easy to fool as the people back in Paris.

“Oh, I’m so tired. Guess I’ll head upstairs—”

“Aren’t you gonna stay for the countdown?” he interrupted “There are only…what,” he checked his watch, “two minutes left.”

“I’d rather not be the only single person on the team at midnight, but thanks,” she crossed her arms.

“You wouldn’t be the only single person,” he said, stepping closer. “You don’t have to be single at all,” he murmured, almost too quiet for her to catch.

“What was that?”

“I said, you don’t have to be single at all. I could be your midnight kiss…if you want.” Marinettte’s lips parted in shock, trying to make sense of the offer. “I’m not asking out of pity,” he clarified.

“Then why?” She needed to hear him say it.

“I like you, Marinette.” It was like a dream, the haze of late-night partying and New Year’s festivities and his face right there, green eyes looking at her like she was the only person in the world.

“Okay,” she breathed.

“Okay?”

“I like you, too.” And she had seen him grin a million times, but this one was more brilliant than any firework. Dick raised a brow when they entered the room hand-in-hand, right in time for the countdown’s start. At the shouted “10!” Wally’s calloused hands came to rest on her waist. At “8!” she hooked her arms around his neck, carving the planes of his face into her mind. At “6!” he brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear, and his face drew near. She lost track of the seconds after that, the only thing in her thoughts being the boy in front of her and his intoxicating presence. The cheers came, and so did the whoosh of fireworks, and then it was the warmth of lips against lips, his body against hers and the stirring in her chest that could be nothing else but love. She could have kissed him for hours, maybe even longer, but she soon became acutely aware of the dying noise and her surrounding teammates. Marinette pulled back hesitantly, and Wally looked at her, brows ticked up in concern.

“You okay?” She didn’t answer right away, looking around the room at her friends, but they all seemed to be absorbed in their own dream world, oblivious to whatever was happening around them. Maybe it was her turn to do the same.

“I’m doing better than okay,” she smiled, then pulled him in by the collar for a searing kiss. She was choosing to start the New Year right.

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@astoriaandromeda

@avengerthewarrior

*@bluesimani

@enternalempires

@flower-girll

@freesportspalacesalad

@glastwime859

@heart-charming

@iloontjeboontje

@jayjayspixiepop

@jalaluvsu

@kitsunebell

@maskedpainter

@moongoddesskiana

@nathleigh

*@no-username2544

@phis-corner

@too0bsessedformyowngood

@ultimatetornshipper

#maribat #wallynette #marinette x wally #bio!dad bruce wayne

93 notes · View notes

glassautomaton · 2 years

Text

Alright, maybe a crackpot theory, but hear me out: Hoshiguma is probably several decades if not centuries old.

Now I don’t have a whole lot of evidence for this, but I blame that mostly on the fact that there are only four oni operators, and only one with any real plot relevance. Out of the other three only Noir Corne gets anything if real significance in his oprec, which includes these lines:

Pretty innocuous. Noir Corne is just older than the other operators here, but it doesn’t say by how much. Corne does ask “am I really that old?” which will mirror something else I’ll bring up. Additionally, he recounts a story which, given the context, is clearly about himself and Yato. The content of this story doesn’t amount to much for this topic specifically, but one of the other operators asks about a myriad of other stories about the two oni, implying that Corne and Yato are far more experienced than they let on, seeing as they both worked as mercenaries for an unknown amount of time, then worked together for an indeterminate amount of time, and then worked with Rhodes Island for long enough to become integral parts of it, but only have 8 years of combat experience each.

However, considering Corne recounts being ready and willing to kill a mother and her child as thought it wouldn’t be his first time, it would make sense for Rhodes Island to want to cover up their pasts, hence the shortened combat experience record.

Getting back to Hoshiguma, there are a couple standout lines of hers that point to her being older than she lets on. First up, after her fight with Ch’en, Swire attends to her, and this exchange occurs:

Hoshiguma was in the LGD for longer than Ch’en, who joined it at her earliest opportunity, but the wording of this makes it seem as though Hoshiguma is significantly older, looking back. Then again, based on the context of the exchange between Ch’en and Hoshiguma, it could just be nothing.

Now, jumping ahead, we have to look at Hoshiguma’s story in Beyond Here, which includes this:

Aside from the interesting note about oni physiology, this includes a very interesting detail: Hoshiguma regards herself as old. More significantly, however, she has to seriously think about her age, as though she can’t remember how old she is aside from a ballpark estimate. In my opinion, this is likely because she’s been around for so long she just doesn’t bother counting the years anymore, just stopped aging significantly after a certain point, or just flat out lost count.

Her operator file, however, seems to fly in the face of this. Based on her argument with Ch’en on 7-3, which I discuss a bit more here, she reveals that she was likely a marauding killer like the rest of her clan/family before she killed them all, with her bare hands no less, implying a good deal of combat experience and the strength of a fully grown adult oni. After this, she traveled from the ruins of her home in Higashi to Lungmen, eventually forming an underground gang to try and help people, which was pretty successful, at least until she killed her gang members like she did her family and wound up captured and alone. She was well liked enough to earn the title of Madame Oni, and Wei Yenwu forced her into serving the LGD after her capture. I also heard that she passed up numerous promotions to stay in a position she thought was the most suited to help people, but I couldn’t find anything corroborating this in the game, although I might’ve just missed . Notably, Hoshiguma was already in the LGD when Ch’en joined and subsequently climbed the ladder. Yet her file lists a measly 7 years of combat experience.

Now, numerous sources in the game have contradicted these files or pointed to them being unreliable, like Ifrit’s or Platinum’s files, but this discrepancy makes a lot of sense: Yenwu wouldn’t want to have someone with years of murders and assaults on the LGD, at least not publicly, so he could have just toned down the previous charges. Those seven years are likely the time she’s been at the LGD.

Once again, not a whole lot to go off of here, considering the lack of oni characters in the game and their scant presence in events. Should more content with oni characters be realized, or even just information about Hoshiguma’s past, this theory could either be proven or disproven very easily, but only time will tell. In the meantime though Hoshiguma is 137 years old and 230 cm tall.

#arknights #arknights spoilers #hoshiguma #noir corne #yato #this one doesn’t have a lot of evidence #but I do really think that the scant available clues point towards oni having long lifespans #arknights aready has something of a precedent with ancient characters so it’s not so crazy #a lot of the stuff I brought up with Hoshiguma is in her operator file but this post was already long and I didn’t want to add more images

68 notes · View notes

mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Losing You Twice / 1: If I Hated You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day weekend, and it turns out Y/N isn’t the only one struggling with the breakup. Category: Smut (18+), Angst Content Warnings: Language, drinking/getting drunk, penetrative/unprotected sex (If I missed anything, please let me know!) Word Count: 5,538

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

“My bedtime is the darkest, that’s when I’m brokenhearted. The nighttime is the hardest. It’d be easy, if I hated you.” —FLETCHER, If I Hated You

FEBRUARY 13th

It was Valentine's Day weekend, which sucked this time around. Every year for the past three years Y/N looked forward to Valentine's Day, but that was when she actually had someone to spend it with.

Well, someone she actually cared about, anyway... Whether or not Spencer actually knew it, she did really care about him. She was just stupid and didn't say it when he needed to hear it the most.

And now Valentine's Day was on Saturday and Y/N was still without him. Not alone, but still without the man who'd spent the significant holiday with her for the past three years. Memories of their dates and 'afterparties' flooded through her mind as she got ready for work like a montage, a cheesy love-song playlist she'd found on Spotify acting as the soundtrack.

Eventually she sighed and turned it off, opting for something more loud and obnoxious, and therefore not tainted by Spencer's memory. She applied what was left of her makeup and added a pair of earrings before turning the music off altogether and shoving her phone in her bag alongside her keys and other necessities.

Even though she wasn't emotionally prepared for all the cheesy Valentine's things she'd see and hear and experience throughout the weekend, it was still kind of nice to see that things in the bank never changed during the holidays— Everything in her life was so severely different at the moment, that if Marjorie had somehow decided to throw out all her elaborate decorations for each holiday, no matter how small, Y/N would have thought the world was truly ending.

Speaking of, she was met with Marjorie's brighter-than-the-sun smile almost immediately once she set her things in the breakroom.

"How's my little macaron this morning?" she chirped, Y/N chuckling slightly at the nickname— She brought macarons from the bakery down the street on her first birthday she spent at the bank, and ever since then, the older woman had adorned her with the namesake.

"She's alright, Marj... Better now that she's seen you..."

"That boy still on your mind, hon?"

Obviously Marjorie's intentions were good, but Y/N couldn't stand to think about the situation at all, least of all at work... So, setting her jacket on the rack, turned away so that her coworker wouldn't see the visible discomfort on her face, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and cleared her throat. "So, what are your plans with Geno tomorrow night? Anything special?"

There was a brief pause before Marjorie cleared her throat as well. "Nothing short of our usual dinner plans, my dear. He's been so caught up with work at the Mill lately, I think we're just going to spend the night relaxing."

"Hm," Y/N said shortly, finally turning around and giving her the best smile she could. "Maybe I should take a page from your book and stay in..."

"You weren't going to?"

"No... Britt's been nagging me about getting out there so we're going out tomorrow night. We both haven't been single in a long time, so... Should be fun."

Marjorie didn't look convinced. Either way, she nodded with a smile and walked over to Y/N with something glittery and bright red in her hand— A cheap beaded necklace to clip her nametag onto. She draped it over Y/N's neck and patted her shoulders. "Well, I want you to have fun. And remember that you still have to come to work on Monday. Whatever shenanigans you get into should be reserved for Saturday night only so you can rest properly on Sunday, got it?"

Y/N laughed, thankful for the playful tone in Marjorie's voice. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Oh, I joke, I joke," the older woman said with a bright laugh, turning to walk out of the break room. "A little..."

The smile on Y/N's face only really lasted until after Marjorie was out of sight, then she went into her bag and clipped her nametag onto the red beaded necklace with a sigh.

Was she excited to have a good night out with Britt? Of course. Hell, had it been literally any other day of the year, she would have been practically bouncing off the walls with excitement at the idea of going out to a bar, letting men hit on her until she finally let one of them take her back to his place for the night.

But it just felt like it was too soon.

Either way, she was glad that she'd get to see Britt again, after she'd been on vacation for Christmas and New Year's to see her family and only got back a few weeks ago. She'd seen her on Facetime of course, and they met up once for coffee right after Britt got back from her trip, but a well-needed night out and quality time getting ready together was something that had been missing from their friendship for almost a year.

Y/N knew Britt would most likely spend her time trying to hook them up with end-of-the-night dates, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad...

Even still, sleeping alone the night before was probably one of the worst spells of loneliness she'd ever had. It was normal to be sad spending the first Valentine's Day in years away from a significant other, but knowing how things ended between them—bitter and stained with words left unsaid—this time was just... cold.

And that was putting it lightly.

Y/N laid in bed that night, her eyes wide open and staring at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars that adorned the ceiling. They used to give her comfort, but now they just reminded her of all the nights she'd spend with Spencer, listening to him tell stories about the constellations. They were some of the most peaceful memories she had.

And now those, too—those stars that had grounded her pretty much all her life and reminded her of the better days—were tainted by her inability to properly communicate.

She almost thought about taking them down.

But if she was really going to get over him this time, for good, then she'd have to learn to make new memories with the stars. Even if it was painful. Even if replacing those memories and writing new ones over them absolutely tore her soul to pieces.

And, as if that pain wasn't enough, that night Y/N dreamt of him, making love to her amongst the stars in every galaxy, only to wake up the next morning cold and alone.

FEBRUARY 14th

She promptly decided that she hated his guts.

It was Valentine's Day, Y/N was respectfully buzzed, and courtesy of two beers and four shots of tequila, she'd just deleted Spencer's number from her phone.

"I'm done," she said, waving a hand at Britt and shoving her phone in her purse. "He doesn't deserve my wallowing."

"Yeah!"

Britt was significantly the more drunk of the two, resulting in a fit of giggles after gaining some stares from the people around them at her sudden outburst.

Y/N smiled, finishing off another shot and shaking her head. "We need more!"

"More shots!" Britt hurried off to grab them, leaving her friend behind with a half-drunken smile that also only felt half-genuine.

Sure, she decided she hated Spencer's guts, but her heart didn't exactly agree well with that sentiment. Even after deleting his number from her phone, after downing all that alcohol, her heart still ached.

Y/N knew deep down that getting over him was going to take some time. A lot of time... But maybe one night of distraction would help.

So the shots kept coming, and by the end of the night, Y/N was just about at her limit.

Which was near black-out drunk. And when you're that drunk you tend to make decisions you wouldn't soberly condone.

Britt got into a cab, and she begged Y/N to come with her, but she assured her friend that she had someone to come pick her up. Eventually the cab driver got tired of their inability to decide, and when Y/N told him to go, he did, leaving her alone on the side of the street at 1am.

Unfortunately, it was incredibly cold, and she didn't really have anyone to come pick her up. And that's where the bad decisions started.

Y/N pulled her phone out, a long sigh escaping her as she dialed the number by heart.

Would he even pick up? He hadn't answered any of her calls or texts before, so why would it have been any different now? Not to mention it was Valentine's Day Weekend. With her luck, he was probably in bed with someone else. Someone who wasn't her. As she listened to the dial tone repeating in her ear, images of him wrapped up with somebody else—sleeping in the bed she'd slept in many times before—clouded her drunken brain and made her more angry than anything.

Her gut twisted, and she almost hung up.

But then the low buzz of the dial tone abruptly stopped and in its place came his voice.

"Y/N?"

Her name on his lips, even through the phone, was grounding, the anger in her system melting away and revealing a coat of drunken relief.

"Spencer! You answered!"

"Yeah... Are you— Is everything okay?"

"Pff, yeah, 'm-fine. Just really fucking cold."

"You're not outside, are you?"

"Duh, I'm outside... I wouldn't be cold in-side... Besides, I didn't call t'alk bout the weather, I need you t'come pick me up."

There was a brief pause, and for a moment Y/N didn't think he was going to say anything she wanted to hear. She swayed on the sidewalk, shivering and praying that he would throw her a bone, even if she'd regret it all in the morning.

"Where are you?" he said finally, and despite herself, she smiled.

FEBRUARY 15th

Spencer couldn't believe he was picking her up at near two in the morning.

Honestly, he'd initially thought about ignoring her call again, but remembering the day it was and taking note of the time, he figured she was most likely in some type of inebriated trouble.

His instincts were right, of course, but he wished that he could have been wrong. He wished she'd only been calling to drunkenly ramble on about how she missed him or maybe how he was stupid and she never wanted to see his face ever again, because that was normal. At least then he could have hung up after she was done and never thought about it again— it was a normal step in any relationship that helped move things along. They could have gotten on with their lives and it would have all been over.

But of course it was never that simple.

Y/N was never that simple.

He pictured her on the street near some bar, alone and cold and drunk, and of course he would have been the only one she could call to rescue her. After all, he'd been pretty much the only thing she'd ever known to make her feel safe.

Still, he wished he was capable of only giving her a ride home and then leaving.

But again, it was never that simple.

It was easy getting her into the car— that wasn't what he was worried about. Rather, it was the fated moment where she'd ask him to stay after he finally got her tucked safely into bed that worried him. Because it was bad enough that it was Y/N... It was her in all her alluring glory, and he'd never been able to deny her anything no matter how badly he tried or wanted to.

Now add on the fact that she was drunk, and most likely sad on their first Valentine's Day apart, and it was a recipe for disaster.

Even if she'd broken his heart, Spencer still cared about her.

Which is why he inevitably agreed to stay, at least until she fell asleep.

He knew her well enough to know all the ways she'd try to get him under the covers with her, so it was a familiar amusement that settled in his being when he was finally able to get on top of the covers with her underneath. But as he entertained her silly little questions with the right answers until she fell asleep, Spencer noticed something else accompanying that amusement.

Guilt.

And then anger for feeling guilty about her sadness— sadness that could have been avoided had she just gotten over whatever was holding her back and either returned his "I love you" or told him she wasn't feeling the same way just yet.

All she had to do was talk.

He had a right to feel upset about Y/N holding back when he'd been nothing but patient, spending almost every year of their relationship trying to make her see that she had nothing to be afraid of. He'd given her every chance to talk about what she was feeling, whether it was happy or not, and every time she pushed it all away in favor of sex.

That wasn't what he wanted in a relationship, so he ended it. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

So why was he feeling so fucking guilty?

He blamed his good nature and innate need to please people, to make them feel good and happy. But he also blamed Y/N and her adorable drunken sleeping face.

He watched as she slept, willing himself not to forget the way she hurt him. She'd completely stolen his heart and shattered it at the same time, and if he was being honest, she still held some of the pieces. But he couldn't get them back, not if he didn't want to risk shattering her own heart in the process.

It felt like they were tied together by some strong, invisible force that wouldn't break unless both of them broke right along with it.

So... maybe he could afford to leave those pieces of his heart with her. He'd have to if they were going to get out of this alive. Not unscathed, sure, but alive nonetheless.

Once he was sure she was deep in sleep, Spencer quietly and carefully got off the bed and navigated through her apartment, getting her a glass of water and leaving it on the table next to her bed. And because he couldn't help it, he cleaned up some of the clothes that were scattered around her floor, depositing them into the hamper and straightening out a few more things that were out of place.

He looked over at her sleeping figure one more time, sighed, and then left, keeping her bedroom door open just a crack.

***

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer.

Despite his better judgement, he'd plopped himself down on her couch after making sure she was sound asleep, hoping to catch his breath and sort through what he was feeling before he got behind the wheel. But of course, it was 2am and he was exhausted, and he couldn't stop himself from closing his eyes and drifting off.

And now he was sitting up, looking around the apartment through the lens of morning.

Though the curtains were sheer, they didn't provide much light, but enough of it showed him just how familiar the space was. Y/N hadn't moved anything around. The same art was on the same walls, the potted ivy plant on her mantle sat un-watered and withering, and every book and record and DVD on her shelves was in the exact same spot as they'd all been the last time he was there in December.

Meanwhile, after the breakup he'd re-arranged everything. He was so sure that they were through for good this time around that he wanted a clean slate. Not that he wanted to rid himself of her memory completely, but if he was going to move on from the hold she'd had on him, he had to do something...

And yet, he ended up at her apartment the morning after Valentine's Day all the same.

He heard the shower running faintly a couple rooms away. You didn't have to pass the couch to get there, so maybe she hadn't seen him sleeping and he could get away cleanly.

Spencer scrambled off the couch, thankful that he hadn't removed his jacket or his shoes and that he could just sprint towards the door without having to find any of his belongings.

But as luck would have it, the second he took a step, the shower turned off. He had to get out of there quickly, but if he did then she'd definitely know he'd stayed overnight. But if he went quietly, he wouldn't have enough time before she caught him.

Maybe I could hide...

He shook the thought with a roll of his eyes, settling on the clearest course of action, which was to make as quick of a getaway as he could. He'd try to be quiet as well, though the creaky door was going to be nearly impossible to get through without a sound.

His hand was on the doorknob when he heard her voice.

"You didn't think you could spend the night and then leave without saying goodbye, did 'ja?"

The pure amusement in her tone made his stomach churn, and it wasn't unpleasant in the slightest.

Spencer turned and smiled softly, avoiding looking at her completely. "Sorry. Didn't want to bother you."

"You're never a bother."

That sentiment held less amusement and more sincerity, which was what guided his eyes to meet the woman who said the words.

His stomach twisted again when he saw her, exactly like he knew she'd be— wrapped in nothing but a thin towel with near-dripping hair cascading down her back. Her legs were bare and exposed, the towel not only thin but short, which meant that her chest was also practically spilling out of it. Despite the obvious and inevitable hungover look in her eye, there was also a good splash of that mischief that'd always been there— the kind that spelled out trouble.

He needed to get out of there.

"Well, um... I'm glad I got you home safe," he said, clearing his throat. "I should... I should go."

"You sure you don't wanna stay for breakfast?"

Spencer could have sworn she was teasing him, dangling her body in front of him like a meal they both knew he wouldn't be able to resist. But then she added, "I've got everything I need for your favorite omelet," and he exhaled with a small smile, exhausted with his own mind for convincing him that she was out to pull him back in.

Still, he declined. "No, I... I shouldn't. But, uh, thank you..."

"You sure?"

This time when he looked up at her, she was closer. She was gently striding forward to meet him, and he half thought about backing up towards the door until he realized he was already there.

"I—I'm sure. Really."

"But you drove around all night just to take me home when I was drunk, the least I can do is feed you..."

"Eh, it's alright. It's... Nothing I haven't done before."

She stopped then, her eyes briefly dropping to the floor. It was like her whole demeanor changed—just for a second—from the prowess she'd always been, to what seemed to be a woman filled with sadness and regret. It didn't last long though, just enough for Spencer to notice it before she looked back up at him with that wicked gleam in her eye and a remark right at the tip of her tongue.

"Still. I feel bad, making you do all that for me... Especially now."

He wasn't sure what to make of this... It seemed like she was sincere, but she was also alluring, calling to him like a siren leading him to his ultimate demise. And while he'd come to know that as merely a part of her nature, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that she was doing it on purpose.

She was in a skimpy towel, after all, and she definitely knew how to use that to her advantage.

It didn't help that he didn't have the courage to leave. Everything inside of him right then longed to drop that towel and indulge himself once more. Putting aside all the heartache and the differences they shared, all he felt in that moment was the need to touch her— to get lost in her and never be found again.

She was his fatal flaw, and it was painfully obvious.

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer...

He was over to her in just three strides, throwing off his jacket and tossing it aside before cradling her face with his hands and bringing their lips together for the first time since Christmas Eve.

The small whine in her throat signaled that she hadn't expected it, but welcomed it all the same. The moment she lifted her arms to wrap around his neck, the towel fell to the floor, and there was no going back.

"What about breakfast?" Y/N breathed out once they pulled away for air.

Spencer contemplated, studying her face, seeing the way her eyes sparkled, and decided on the two words that sealed his fate.

"Screw breakfast."

Their lips were melded together almost as soon as the words left his mouth. And it wasn't long before every other part of their bodies were melded together as well.

Y/N helped him take the rest of his clothes off as they danced around the entryway and the living room. Everything was open, no walls separating the living room from the kitchen, so to compensate for the lack of breakfast they'd be eating, they migrated to the kitchen counter once Spencer had off everything but his boxers.

He trapped her against the cool marble of the countertop, her back hitting it solid and sending a shiver up her spine. Meanwhile his hands roamed her body, unsure of where to be other than on her at all times, whether it be her waist, her stomach, her arms, her breasts, or her ass. He wanted to feel all of her, and quite frankly she wanted the same.

She even told him so, in her own way, by bringing one of her legs up and wrapping it around his waist, pulling him closer to her as she wove her fingers through his hair and tasted his tongue with her own.

The action elicited a groan from his mouth, low and desperate. Spencer settled his hands on her waist and gripped it tight, silently telling her what to do.

So she jumped up and he helped guide her swiftly onto the counter. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist again, and he found himself grinding into her hips, urgent to feel every part of her. And thankfully she was feeling rather desperate herself, because she rolled her hips up into him in return, breaking their mouths apart just briefly to speak.

"Fuck me..."

There was so much he wanted to say to her in that moment— how badly he was feeling about keeping her entertained while he was slowly deteriorating inside from her emotional detachment and rejection, how much she frustrated him, and more prominently, how she was so goddamn impatient and that he was getting there...

But all that he could manage was a broken, desperate whisper of her name.

It was all he'd ever known.

All that frustration... All that anger, heartache, passion, and time apart combined beautifully into those few syllables that made up her name and tore him apart from the inside out.

And his hands were just as destructive.

Spencer deftly dropped his boxers to the ground and pushed forward, almost losing all sense of self the moment the head of his dick finally made contact with her cunt. He made his way inside of her and then used both of his hands to grip her waist and bring her closer, their mouths connecting harshly as they found one another once again.

His grip was bruising— not possessive in any way, but desperate, like he had to cling to her for dear life or he wouldn't live to see another day. He held himself inside her, sighing and whimpering into her mouth as she clenched around him. It was so familiar, so comfortable and exhilarating that he almost didn't even want to move. He thought about staying there, still inside her forever.

But as always, Y/N was insatiable.

She wrapped all her limbs around him and held on, rolling her hips and seeking friction in any way possible when she briefly tore her lips away from his.

"I need you, baby, please..."

Even as his heart started to rumble in his chest, well aware of the fact that she still probably didn't love him the way he loved her, Spencer gave her everything. He pulled out and snapped his hips forward again, setting a strong, steady pace that had Y/N's eyes rolling back, and the payoff of hearing her sigh out his name was more than enough to keep him going.

Her nails dug deliciously into his shoulders, the faint sting adding something reminiscent of gasoline to a fire. The flames grew taller and brighter the more he fucked her, and with each gradual increase of volume and intensity, it was a wonder the whole kitchen around them hadn't literally burst into flames.

That's how they always were.

Together like this, so lost in the high of each others' bodies, it was easy to forget the things that made their relationship so hard. It was easy to let all the negativity slip away into the throes of pent-up, well-needed sex. The high they gave each other was merely that— A high...

A distraction.

And while that's exactly what Y/N needed, what she preferred in most cases, it's what Spencer recognized as completely unhealthy, despite his coming back to it every time.

It's also why he dreaded the moment ending. Because once they came down from the high, all that's left would be sadness, regret... Guilt... Their fire burned hot, brightly and wildly, but in the aftermath would lay only a thick layer of deadly smoke between them— hard to navigate, and nearly impossible to breathe in without suffocating.

So they simply burned and burned and burned...

Spencer gripped her so tight he was sure to leave her with bruising. And in turn Y/N dragged her nails down his back and dug them into his ass, her palm laying firmly over the muscles that aided in fucking her into the marbled surface. She whined out curses and moans, and he cried out broken whispers of her name, pet names, and curses alike.

Even once she'd come, he kept going, willing himself to hold on as long as he could. She whined into his ear at the overstimulation. And rather than keeping her legs wrapped around his body, she decided to spread them wide, perching her heels up on the counter as far as she could go and anchoring her fingers through his hair.

And though she might not have had enough orgasms in her to keep up with him, she welcomed it all the same—She welcomed the burn just as much as he did.

Even still, no fire can burn forever.

All concept of time was lost by the time Spencer finally collapsed forward, completely spent and barely standing on weak legs after coming twice. Y/N held onto him tightly to keep him upwards, lightly massaging his scalp with gentle fingers and closing her eyes as she focused on his breathing— the way it fanned over the skin of her bare shoulder and how it sounded, perfectly in time with hers...

It was the most peaceful she'd been in a long time.

She felt him pull out of her, the both of them groaning at the feeling, and a little at the mess it would make.

Spencer gently peeled his body off of hers, sniffing once and avoiding her eyes. "Sorry... You just got out of the shower..."

"It's fine," Y/N breathed. She begged him silently to look her in the eye, but he remained still... Most likely thinking. She could practically see the cogs turning in his brain.

So, in an effort to lighten the mood a bit, she added with a breathy laugh, "Besides... It's nothing I haven't done before."

The callback to his words—and memories of all the times they'd found themselves in this position before—got Spencer to laugh a little, but he still wouldn't meet her eyes.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I'll... I'll grab the wipes?"

"Oh. Sure," Y/N returned with a thankful smile. It was hopeful, too, though the moment he was out of eyesight, it turned rather sad.

She'd known that behavior before, seen that hesitation in his movements and that sound in his voice.

It was guilt.

Regret.

Probably a bit of self-hatred, too.

When he returned, a pile of her clothes in hand and the bag of wipes on top, she took them from him with a kind smile and cleaned herself up while he put his clothes back on.

The silence was more uncomfortable than anything either of them had ever experienced.

So much so, that Y/N couldn't even muster up the courage to ask him to stay for breakfast— and she always did after one of their post-break hookups.

Maybe this time really was different.

Spencer was just at the door again when she stopped him.

"Thank you," she said. Her voice was so small, he almost didn't hear it. "For bringing me home..."

But he paused, turned, and finally looked her in the eye.

He almost sunk to his knees right there...

Seeing her, arms crossed like she was trying to keep warm, as her head hung low and she looked up at him through sad, hooded eyelids...

It reminded him of the woman he fell in love with.

But in his peripheral, he saw the towel on the floor and was reminded of the woman who'd shattered his heart.

Spencer cleared his throat. Once upon a time he might have returned her thanks with, Anytime, but... Honestly he wasn't sure there could ever be another time. For his sanity, he'd have to avoid 'anytime' at all costs.

So, he settled on, "You're welcome."

He was glad to see her return his kind smile with one of her own, even if it was tainted with sadness, and a small wave goodbye.

Maybe this time it would stick.

Even still, as he closed the door behind him and made his way to the parking lot, for some reason it didn't quite feel like goodbye.

And some of that deadly smoke that settled in his lungs as he drove further and further away from her apartment was inclined to agree.

***

Neither of them could sleep that night.

While Spencer stared out the window of the jet, a little annoyed to be called out on a case so late but at least thankful for the distraction, Y/N laid in bed, staring at the stars on her ceiling.

The same constellation caught their eye.

Columba.

The Dove.

She hadn't even meant to arrange the stars like that, but one night after a date, they were laying in her bed and Spencer pointed out that the cluster of plastic stars right in the corner of the ceiling looked like Columba.

Y/N fondly remembered Spencer telling her about how it was originally named to represent Noah's dove, which searched for dry land during the great biblical flood and returned carrying an olive branch to make news of its recession— of peace at last.

The memory made her smile. It tugged at her heart and made her dreams of him even more vivid.

All the same, Spencer noticed the constellation outside the jet window and remembered that same night. The smile on her face as he told her the story, the feel of her fingers gliding softly over the bare skin of his forearm...

It was the first night since he'd met her that he thought it.

I love her...

He almost told her then, too, but he was afraid it was too soon. So he refrained.

Looking back, Spencer was starting to regret that— Maybe without that extra time together, breaking up would have been easier. But instead, he gave her more time. He gave himself more time to fall deeper in love with her, and in the end it still wasn't enough.

Now they were both looking at the same constellation, one made of plastic and the other of gas, wondering if their flood would ever recede.

And in the event that it did... Who would be the dove, and what would be their olive branch?

“You know I dream about getting back together in the future, I could focus on you. But if I leave right now, I hope that you don’t find someone that touches you the way that I do...”

***

SERIES TAGLIST: @reidyoulikeabook @yourmisosoup @fortheloveofcriminalminds @bellzo17 @altsvu @flipperpenguins @mcumorningstar

TAGS NOT WORKING: @reid-to-me @totallyclearwitch

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds angst #losing you twice

193 notes · View notes

all-things-fic · 3 years

Text

Somewhere Only We Know

A/N - Hello, you lovely lot! Hope you are all keeping well in these utterly shit Covid times. Who would’ve thought that we would still be here in December?! Please see my offering for @goldenbluesuit‘s Christmas Fic Challenge. Hope I’ve done a bit of justice with this piece.

I can remember Katie texting me telling me about the challenge, and I’ll admit I was given first dibs and now I’m absolutely shitting myself because I’ve seen all the brillaint entries so far and I’m not sure I really cut the mustard with this piece but I’m proud of myself for being able to put a solid 70% of this together in just one day (that one day being today).

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Katie has done a brilliant job and I know how grateful she is towards anyone who has joined the challenge or supported by reading/sharing etc.... I need to stop rambling... Okay, thank you for sticking with me as always and happy reading! .x

***

The last thing you remembered actually reading in the group chat was “make sure you have your wellies”. You were glad that you remembered that part at the very least.

Winds whipped around you as you buried your face further into your cream roll neck cable knit jumper, all but hidden underneath your tobacco borg teddy coat that someone had already likened to Macklemore.

Nothing like being back home with your closest and oldest friends.

Mud squelched under your feet as you walked in line with two of your oldest girl friends, eyes looking over the four males in front of you as they led the way over the grassy hills.

There had been zero planning on what today’s events would bring. It was quite clear that the seven of you just wanted to be reunited with the country air and wind bitten cheeks.

It was nice. How simple it was. On the surface at the very least. That was until you zoned in on the little things.

Like his laugh. The same laugh that always carried somehow and it seemed like the wind was making it that much more prominent than usual today.

There was no denying, he had this glow about him. Even from the back of him. You felt silly for thinking it, but it was true. It was in the way he held himself as he attacked the grassy hills with his feet clad wellies and brown trousers.

Life had changed a lot in over a decade. Christ, had it been that long? You’d all gone from baby teenagers to fully fledged adults. The age range of your friendship differing slightly, the odd person here and there slightly older than a couple of people in the group.

Nonetheless, many of the experiences had been the same. The big job offers, and the even bigger promotions. The heartbreaks, regardless of their prominence or lack of, had been the felt the same. The flirtation between some of you sparked probably a bit more so now with a finesse that didn’t have you rolling your eyes but rather leaning into it.

Four out of seven of you were single. Jack and Jonny were virtually married off, however neither of them were with their partners this year with both deciding to spend Christmas at home and New Years with their significant others. Alice was still loved up and going strong with her fella, as was Grace who you hadn’t heard a peep from as she constantly checked her phone to see when the person she was besotted with finally arrived up North thanks to West Midlands Trains pulling into Crewe.

So that left Will, you and Harry. Harry who had quite publicly made it known that he was single. Well, according to your Mum he had, in several interviews. Including the one that she had described as an ‘incredibly relaxing watch and nice background noise to my Sunday evening brew and ironing session’.

That was a strange one for you, his honesty. In earlier years of friendship, he always seemed quite aloof. Like he was keeping his options open. Guarded in a way that frustrated at least 75% of the friendship group, in the nicest way possible. You knew that was a contradiction but any annoyance came from a good place.

You remembered one night in 2014 when he wouldn’t quite give you a straight answer over tequila shots whether he was shagging someone or not. You also remember the way he’d been pulled away from you tactfully by Alice that night when she sensed how you were about to blow up at his lackadaisical attitude.

The same had been felt in 2016. Not so much in 2018, but you weren’t single then so maybe you just didn’t care.

2019 was significantly different though.

See the thing was, you knew him now. Like, knew knew him.

Some would think it was a lapse of judgment, a reading that you would agree upon given what had happened two days prior if ever prodded about it publicly.

Others would vehemently disagree. Stating how long any sort of energy between the two of you had been bubbling for a number of years.

Looking back you couldn’t even understand why you’d attended his show. You lived in Camden and it made sense, but that’s where the sense stopped. Even the ways he had reached out had been one of the most random messages you’d received from him

There was no context, just a simple ‘I’m playing the Electric Ballroom and there’s tickets waiting for you if you want ‘em.’

And the thing was, you loved that venue. The grungy-ness of it all. The way you had stuck to the floor while trying to dance along to the likes of The Hives and Kings of Leon when seeing them playing there, basking in your sweaty happiness.

But the stickiness of the floor and sweatiness of the room didn’t compare to the stickiness and sweatiness you later found yourself partaking in as Harry took you from behind over the side of his couch.

A shiver rolled through you at the thought, one that you would blame on the December bitter chill because it was a secret. One that neither of you had mentioned since it happened on Thursday night, or to be technically correct the early hours of Friday morning.

He’d been good. Of course he had been.

He had that way about him that night that pulled you under a false sense of endeared security. From his dimpled smile to gleaming eyes. He was happy.

And the way he had shone as he found you on the balcony had warmed you like nothing you had known in the longest time.

It caused you to forget about the worry that had laden you limbs as you turned up at 9.13pm to the wooden doors of the building, wondering how many songs he was in to the set as you convinced yourself he would start at 9.00pm.

As you’d been ushered over to a clear box window and uttered your name to a dorky looking man wearing a tracksuit pull over and watched him handover a white envelope through the circle hatch.

You stood in the dark, next to two much younger girls who enjoyed the way his glances lingered over at their side. Eyes had found Gemma in the opposite corner of the balcony, her dancing and singing with some recognisable faces mainly more so because you had seen them on social media.

You, however, kept yourself to yourself. Until you were anchored in the tightest hug from Gemma that you had ever felt from her and swayed from side to side as she made it known how pleased she was to see you once the concert was over.

That familiarity had been nice. The vibrancy of nostalgia consuming you in your entirety.

Watching him work a room when he finally entered the after party was a sight to behold, in his navy blue pinstripe suit and yellow ‘I’m gonna die lonely’ t-shirt.

He wasn’t. Gonna die lonely, that is.

He glided so smoothly from one person to the next, spilling a drink down himself in the process you’d seen (and later felt when your hand clung to the fabric of his t-shirt as you kissed), making time for everyone in his own unique way.

Big eyes followed you over Gemma’s shoulder when he had finally found himself within your circle and hugged his sister once more that evening. They were hard to read but also openly filled with a glimmer of hope as he dropped his gaze to see what you were wearing.

And when he approached you, he hugged you in a way that managed to pull you into the darkened corner of the dingy space. Spinning your body to keep your face concealed from any prying eyes.

He revealed to you how he didn’t think you were going to turn up, scanning you with his gaze as he spoke. You did the same, a bit taken aback by just how attractive you were finding him. He had always been handsome but the aura he gave off, made your fingers itch to have him closer to you.

Words ran away from you that night as he begged and pleaded with you to tell him what your favourite song had been. Based on first impressions, which the show has been, then Canyon Moon and Watermelon Sugar had smothered you and given you no other option but to pick them.

If he were to ask you now you’d probably say To Be So Lonely, thanks to the drive home being longer than originally thought and said album being your choice of road trip music.

Forget Driving Home For Christmas, nothing slapped more than one of your closest friends admitting to being an arrogant son of a bitch.

After your chat, he mingled some more but Harry was always tactile and that night had been no different. He veered conversations with people you had never seen before to take place by the zone that you all occupied.

He actively kept his back against yours, allowing the faintest of touches and brushing of arms - sometimes hands too if he dropped them down heavily enough with his arms as he spoke - to entice and create a spark.

You were kept late enough to miss the last tube. Battery dangerously low on your phone that you didn’t know if a transaction with Uber would be worth a try.

Jumping into the same car as him had been easy. His soft and tired eyes findings yours in the cab as he leant his head back against the headrest in the back seat and let his lips tip upwards in an expression of tenderness that had you melting in your seat.

“‘S been a while since we’ve both been a bit pissed in the back of a taxi,” he mused, pushing his fallen locks out of his eyes to ensure his view of you wasn’t obscured. “Come an’ cuddle me like you used to do when we went out a’ home and were worse for wear.”

Falling into his side was almost second nature, eyes closing as you let your forehead rest against his jawline and let his worn in cologne fill you senses and scatter your judgment.

You don’t even remember how you ended up kissing that night. A mixture of confessions about missing each other and praise of how good you both were in your own ways. The sound of his whispered, “are you coming home wi’me?” against your lips an offer too good for you to refuse as you sat pressed into his side and half in his lap.

The giggles that night, around dramatic shushes as you tripped and shuffled from the car to his front door were almost haunting in your memory as he tried to chastise you around spluttered laughter about being respectful of his neighbours.

Getting the key in the lock proved unchallenging - one of the better analogies aligned to your memories and latter sexual endeavours - as you slipped into the house. He enjoyed watching the way you walked ahead of him into his home, not realising how much he needed that visual of seeing how well you fit in.

While time seemed to slow in that moment, movements desperately sought the opposite. Hands gripped and clawed like their lives depended upon it.

Looking back now, both he and you wished it hadn’t happened the way it did. Skirt lifted and over the side of his couch. Teeth clashing and hips knocking.

It had been every inch a drunken fumble. A first meeting slightly cheapened but wanted nonetheless. Only made even cheaper by the hush-hush concealing of it ever occurring.

But a secret it was and a secret it would remain.

And oh how you wished you had a pillow you could press you face into right now and scream, this time for an entirely different reason. Unlike that night.

“Not seen a sign of any deer yet, mate,” you heard a voice break you out of your indulgence of recollecting past events. Harry was the worst at wanting to get a reaction.

“Christ, have a bit of patience would yer?”

You smiled at the bickering, just like it always was as the River Dane could be heard in the distance somewhere as you walked. If you listened really close, that is.

Lifting your eyes, your smile lingered as you watched Harry spin his body around and let his hands get lost in the massive pockets of his parka. He walked backwards holding your gaze softly with his eyes twinkling before he gently rolled them at the overreaction and impatience of your friends.

He seemed pleased that you’d enjoyed his teasing as you once again hid you smile into your jumper.

You’d be alright.

***

You heard giggles and screams ahead of you as your friends stumbled in the dark and messed about as you got closer to the viaduct. This place or the people didn’t change, and at times while it filled you with a warm nostalgia, it could be heavily jarring.

A soft and lazy smile pulled at your lips as you felt his heavy forearm lightly tug you closer to him, his lips finding your hair. And then there was Harry.

“Think we should go this way m’self,” Harry mumbled, the nudge of his hips against yours had you stumbling slightly in your heels away from the direction of your friends and somewhere completely different.

“And why’s that?” You turned your face slightly, cheeks warm and flushed thanks to the mixture of alcoholic beverages; eyes glazed as they lifted up to look at him.

“Cause you never would’ve let me when I was sixteen,” he admitted.

“You didn’t ask.”

“‘M askin’ now.”

With slow blinking eyes, you looked at his own unfocused vision. A soft shine to his skin, hair blowing gently against his forehead. The softest of smiles tilted at your lips.

“On yer go,” he nudged you forward, this time more so with his crotch and his hands, which wrapped around your hips to help steer you. Harry was met with only a small amount of resistance from you as you split off from your friends and turned in the different direction.

You bit back your laugh, dropping your head slightly as you felt your heels started to sink into the grass as you walked. Harry was level with you when you sunk down noticing the way you legs slightly gave way, a soft chuckle omitting from his throat as he asked, “You alrigh’?”

“I’m sinking in these bloody things,” you grumbled, pulling your heel from the grass and trying to place the sole of your shoe onto the ground beneath you first.

“So much for no’ being able to take the country out o’ the girl. London’s changed yer, swear it.”

Shaking your head, you cut your eyes to give him a harsh stare for his wind up. His amused expression lit a fire in you like no other. He really wasn’t one to talk though, was he?

“Gi’me your hand ‘ere,” he held his out to you, quickly cupping it when you handed it over and pulled it under his bent elbow. “Remind me again who’s idea this was, eh?”

He didn’t need reminding, he had been one of the keen instigators for the whole jaunt down Twemlow Viaduct. It usually was him, or Jack. The two of them often reminiscing on times they had both raided their parents' alcohol cupboards and managed to sneak out with some dusty bottle that held a liquor that tasted out of date and stale, and if not that then, cheap.

“‘S still fucking freezing down ‘ere, in’it?” He asked, lifting his left hand up to his mouth and blowing against it to try and get some feeling back into his fingers.

“We’re so close to the river, I don’t know why you’d expect anything different?”

“Is this why everyone was always so insistent on necking anything with over 11% alcohol in it when we came down ‘ere as kids?”

“Probably,” you softly laughed.

“‘S a bit different now though innit?”

“Oh, I’m not so sure,” you started to correct him, shrugging your hand out from under his elbow and reaching for your bag. Quickly fumbling with the clasp, you lifted up the quilted flap and managed to pull out the stainless steel hip flask.

Harry cackled a harsh laugh, his eyes crinkling as he slowly let his laughter die down and softly let his joy wash over his features. “Impressive. Gone all proper on me.”

“You know I haven’t,” you held his eyes watching as he nervously cupped at the back of his neck for a short while, a gentle bite down of his bottom lip, as you quickly uncapped the item and held it out to him. He looked like he needed the courage. You continued, “We’re just a bit more refined, that and we earn a good living. Some more than others, and by some I mean you.”

He held his hand up towards you with an amused grin at your comment. “You first, ‘s yours after all.”

Lifting the item and knocking back your head, you swallowed the whiskey with a small grimace, before offering it to Harry once more. This time he accepted, his right hand making light work of taking the item from your hands and sipping at the contents.

His face wasn’t as contorted as your’s when he swallowed, a fan of the chosen beverage if needs must. “‘S the proper stuff, tha’ is,” he commented with a quick lick of his lips before continuing, “Come a long way from sneaking the bottles of dusty Blossom Hill from the back of the cupboard.”

“Don’t know about that,” you smiled, taking the item and pushing it back into your bag. “I’d still drink if, if it were on offer.”

“‘M sure Mum’s got a bottle or two going at home?”

“Is that your way of asking me to go home with you?” You paused. “Again.”

Harry remained silent at your words. Both you and he knew it was going to happen. A mixture of sparks and lovelorn, lingering glances was enough to make anyone both want to give up, while also giving a burning confidence usually unknown.

Neither of you expected it would be you who started the conversation, however.

“It is, ‘f it’s gonna work. ‘M not sure I could wait any longer t’be’onest wi’yer.“

Laughing, you reached up to push at his shoulder. He always knew exactly what to say, but no way was he going to make a laughing stock of the whole thing. “Oh, give over,” you spoke, harshly swallowing when he kept your hand against the thick cable knit black jumper he had on. “You’ve made it this far, thus far just fine.”

“‘M not playin’,” he whispered, hand gently curling around your own and lifting it up to press against his face. His cheeks were warm underneath the cooler hands, despite the cold night whipping around you both and your mind quickly wondered if he was just as embarrassed for his lack of acknowledgment as you had been. “Homes nice, you’re nicer.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it,” you let your soft voice get taken by the wind.

“An’ what gave you tha’ impression?”

He did. He gave you that impression. By not mentioning it. By treating you how he always did.

“You.”

“Me?” Harry responded, indignantly, blowing out a sigh that had his cheeks puffing out underneath your hand. “‘M not doing a very good job then am I? I can’t keep m’eyes off o’you. ‘S not my fault you don’t bloody notice ‘em.”

But you had noticed them.

His eyes, gaze following your every move, near enough. Stupid little touches. Glances of approval. Not just now, but from years before.

Treating you how he always did.

Oh, treating you how he always did.

Bringing your eyes back to his figure, you saw the way his gaze darted and nervousness dragged at his features. A frown began to set itself between his eyebrows from worry.

“Changes everything.”

Running his tongue along his teeth, Harry pursed his lips. “Everythin’ has changed, changed a long time ago an’all.”

You dropped your hand down, it now massaging against the back of his neck and shoulder as you felt the tension of his body radiating through his clothes. Under the dim moonlight and the odd spotlight that had been added to the viaduct with each passing year for safety, Harry exhumed everything anyone would want in a boyfriend. He was soft, and so bloody gorgeous. Not just because he was personification of an almost six foot tall string of handsomeness, but his character did the talking for him.

He knocked the door before he walked into a room, for example. Who really did that kind of thing anymore?

But you could also still see the heartbreak that lingered, albeit not as strong as it once was, it was still there. And that was problematic and scary. To be on the receiving end of it. Not that you would hold it against him, because you had been him at one point too. At many points in fact.

When the two of you had shagged, because let’s face it that is exactly what it had been, while a sense of familiarity in the person was prevalent it was definitely overruled by the desire to just hit a euphoric high that if hit right could not be topped.

Familiar overruled in other aspects, and it wasn’t to be brushed away. But was familiarity a mask that would slip sooner rather than later? Was it the start and the end?

The both of you experienced similarities in your life that could not be matched by the friends in your friendship group. London had chewed you up and spat you out, ruthlessly so. While rewarding you with long hours but fat pay cheques, careers that catapulted you to new heights and enabled you to see parts of the world that two country kids (which in one way you were) could never have imagined.

Sure Harry’s had been on a much, much larger scale - you would not ever deny that - but you no longer fit in.

And neither did he.

This was a place that only the two of you knew. A place where you watched those around you fall in love and have the time to do so. A place where your friend's happiness was created a lot easier than it wasn’t and allowed a sense of success to weave its way in, through the most unexpected of happenings.

Not a place where you found happiness in your work because there was less of a space for happiness to blossom elsewhere. Not really. Not like you; both of you.

Understanding was vital.

This had been a place you knew like the back of your hand. A place that had you feeling the earth beneath your feet, fresh air in your lungs and had at times made it so you found yourself sitting by a river and finding yourself feeling complete.

Yet looking over at the almost 26 year old, that just wasn’t the case anymore.

And for once you didn’t feel alone.

The sound of the odd piece of cobbled pavement underneath Harry shoes, buried beneath overgrown grass and plants, broke you from your thoughts, as you watched him kick at the ground and scuff his shoes.

He sighed, head tilted back before he knocked it to the side and caught your eyes. A small scoffed laugh left his lips as he shook his head and dropped his gaze to his feet.

“‘S it fucked?”

You hummed, a small frown lacing your features.

“Fucked it, haven’t I? Fuckin’- idiot-“ he breathed out a noise as he clenched his teeth, one that wasn’t quite a growl but enough to let you know he was agitated. Only strengthened by how tight his jaw became.

Before you could even think, the back of your hand gently brushed against the pulsing hinge of his jaw. Muscles taut as you tried to soothe him in a way that your mind was screaming was far too intimate.

You didn’t want him having any internal battle about right and wrong. Not when you had both taken the same steps to get here.

“Thought it was just meant as a one time thing,” you admitted. “Like you needed it, and I needed it. Was what it needed to be at the time. Bit rough, bit sloppy-“

You cringed are the use of the word. Wanting the ground to swallow you in a weird fashion. You should be able to talk open and honestly with someone who you had known longer than hadn’t.

“Rough?“ Harry swallowed audibly, his face fallen. “That’s not-“

His eyes held an emotion similar to sorrow at the mention of the word. “That’s not the impression I wanted to give you.”

“We were both drunk, it happens.”

“Not with me it doesn’t. Not when it’s me, wanting to be wi’you.”

“I mean I was into it if that helps anything?”

“Were yer?”

You looked at him from the corner of your vision, watching his lips try to fight a smile as you rolled yours into your mouth to not give yourself away. You knew what you were trying to do by speaking those words aloud but you wished you hadn’t. Awkward breathy laughs were shared by the two of you as you held his eyes.

“Was I?”

You hummed in agreement to answer his question, letting your smile dance along your lips now and watching as Harry’s dimples started to show. His expression was youthful, slightly smug.

“Good t’know.”

***

Finishing saying your goodbyes to your friends and ignoring their suggestive expression because ‘Harry was stopping as an extra pair of hands’, you shut the heavy wooden door and reached up to close the deadbolt lock at the top. Shortly after, you let your feet drop as you stopped standing on your tiptoes and pressed your forehead against the door.

The silence of the pub was always a strange one to you. A place that was usually thriving, whether it was just your friends, or your parents friends. When the lights were turned out, it was actually quite a lonely place. Regardless of growing up around this sort of industry your entire life and having parents as publicans nothing was more depressing than an empty bar, lifeless and nothing like it was intended.

A suggested lock-in from Jack, who managed to interrupt both yours and Harry’s conversation earlier had not been a bad shout after all. You knew it meant that you would have to deal with the fallout with it being Christmas Eve, but it wasn’t very often that you found yourself in the setting.

Turning to move from the door, you almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the opening of a familiar Lily Allen song start to play over the speakers.

Harry emerged from the corner of the pub that housed the jukebox, slowly rubbing his hands together before he wordlessly picked up the scattered pint glasses that had remained on one of the tables that had been missed by the staff on the evening shift. His eyes glanced over at you, as you stood with a hand to your chest.

This wicked smile and gleam washed over his face as he paused his movement. “Did I scare yer?”

“Do you not think it’s a bit loud?”

He wrinkled his nose at you, a soft shake of his head no, to answer your question.

“‘S your fave innit?” He asked, head nudging to where the jukebox was now hidden.

With a small smile you nodded, “Prefer the Keane version in all honesty.”

“Don’t have it in the bloody jukebox though, d’yer? Can’t like it that much.”

Your smile deepened at his exclaim and how prominent his accent sounded as he spoke, the small clink of the glasses he was holding only heard if you really zoned in.

“Where d’yer want these?” He asked, holding up the five pint glasses he had collected. “Behind t’bar?”

Humming, you nodded and watched as he weaved his way through the tables to you. You frowned as he got closer, not understanding why he hadn’t bypassed you completely.

Once he was close enough to you, you watched as he reached for what you knew to be your own glass of wine that was almost finished.

“Fancy the rest of this or can it go too?”

Looking at him and down to the glass, you gently wrapped your hand around it and brought the lip to your mouth. You knocked the item back quickly, swallowing the rest of your wine, before handing over the now empty glass back to Harry.

“Good girl,” he joked, light laughter lacing each word. “Sit yourself down.”

Wearing an amused and quizzical expression, you let yourself sink down into the wooden chair. Resting your chin on your hand, you spun slightly in your seat to keep your eyes on Harry as he placed the glasses down and lifted the hatch so he could step behind the bar.

With your free hand, you started to tap the worn beer coaster labelled with the Cheshire Brewhouse logo against the table. Part of you hated how Harry had a knack for anything, including knowing his way around a bar.

He busied himself with collating the glasses once more as you let your eyes take in the surroundings you had known, loved and even grown out of.

Your parent’s pub was cosy and friendly. A truly

classic and quintessential British village pub, featuring open fires, bookcases found in the very far corner or the jukebox in the other, lots of old oak and a really pleasant garden with benches for the summat and heaters for the winter. You know the kind that had its regulars that had kids who had seen each other grow up.

The bar was the centre of the pubs house, with an extensive array of whiskies amongst many other delights. A nice range of local ales and a well-balanced, great quality list of wines on offer designed (which you would be taste testing if the service hadn’t decided to take a break) to complement the food menus designed daily by a team of chefs who all have a passion for great cooking using fresh, seasonal and local ingredients.

It looked as Christmassy as Christmas could get, with a real tree which was locally sourced from one of the many surrounding farms and traditionally decorated with golds and reds. Twinkly lights shone, not only on the trees but as part of the garland that was hung above the bar each year, much to the annoyance of your Dad and the delight of your Mum.

Slowly dragging your eyes back to the bar, you watched Harry as he poured you another glass of white wine and started to recap the bottle. He must’ve felt your eyes on him, his gaze meeting yours almost immediately.

“Service is a bit slow,” you jibed, once you knew he was with you. “Going to ruin the reputation of a fine establishment.”

His chuckle was breathy in response, but warmed you through as he turned his back and pushed his tumbler glass up against the device at the bottom of the Glenfiddich distilled malt whiskey, not once but twice going for a double.

“Helping yourself to the stock now, as well.”

“‘M sure your Dad won’t mind,” he responded, twisting his body back around to reach for your own glass and place it onto a tray that sat along the bar top. “In fact he’d probably make a comment about how it’d put hairs on m’chest.”

You laughed, unrestrained, knowing just how right he had been with that comment.

Over the otherside of the room, Harry smiled and shushed you as he walked closer, easily holding the tray with your drinks upon it. “Being a bit loud,” he taunted as he slid the tray down to the oak table.

“Oh, now you’re concerned about the noise.”

With his hand against the back of the chair which was currently housing your outstretched legs, you felt him start to wobble the seat to give you a warning.

“Hang on,” you said, “Plenty of other chairs.”

“This one’s mine,” he responded.

Wanting to roll your eyes but deciding not to, you let your legs drop down and gave the seat back to Harry. Once he was comfortable and he’d taken your drink off the tray, he gestured with his right hand.

Not entirely focused, he had to do the ‘come hither’ motion a couple of times before you finally cottoned on. He was willing to let you put your legs on his lap instead, while he may have taken the seat it didn’t mean he wanted to take away your comfort.

No sooner had your legs been raised to rest against his tan washed velvet corduroy trousers, was he fiddling with the buckle of your stiletto sandals.

“Got mud everywhere,” you commented, wiggling your toes that were painted a festive red and inspecting the little dots of dirt that were splattered against your skin, as Harry dropped the first shoe to the floor and quickly worked on the second. “Dread to think what they smell like.”

“Smell alrigh’ from ‘ere,” he mused, smirk faint but glaring obvious in his tone of voice as he threw a quick and mischievous glance at you. As you elongated your foot against his thighs, the tips of your toes were just about able to press into his thick jumper to try and jab at him for his comment.

Before you were able to put any sort of force behind your action, Harry’s hand clamped down around the top of your foot causing your eyes to snap up away from his hand and up to his eyes.

There he sat watching you, top two teeth pressed into his bottom lip keep his smile at bay. Releasing his lips slowly, his whispered threat left his throat, “I will tickle.”

You tried to fidget away but to no avail. With a whined laugh, you frowned as Harry goaded you by slowly raising his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

You had tried him.

Truth be told you wanted to again.

If he wanted to.

Reaching for your wine, you took a hefty sip and let the silence swallow you both. Harry, who kept his hand on your foot and his fingers dancing gently against the top, let his head fall back awkwardly against the hardwood. His head dropped to the side taking in his surroundings and their familiarity.

“Do you ever get tired of coming back?”

You hummed, sure you had misheard due to the way the blood was rushing around your ears. He turned to look at you, all double chin and puffy cheeks.

“Of everything being the same, but different?”

His whispers captivated you, hushed confessions not quite meant for anyone else but his own mind yet spilling from him with such an ease that he did nothing to fight them.

“I’ll admit, I come home for other people. Not for me.”

“People?”

“Mum, Dad,” you paused. “You.”

His smile deepened. His chin knocking down to his chest, his eyes looking up at you from underneath his curling hair from being caught in the moist winter evening just hours before.

“You can stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you did three nights ago.”

Harry breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring and his chest expanding. A lick of his lips, before his mouth dropped to sit slightly agape.

“What if I don’t wan’to? What if I want t’look at yer like this all the time?”

You found yourself unable to respond, nose burying itself into your wine glass as you pressed your lips against the cool outside to try and hide your burning smile.

His lips curled lightly, before he breathed a laugh once and gently shook your foot with his hand. “Eh? Come ‘ere-“

“Harry,” you breathed.

“C’mon, c’mere. ‘S room for more than just your feet.”

If it wasn’t for the creak of your chair as you slowly started to push yourself out of it, you wouldn’t have consciously been aware of how you were making your way to him.

His body relaxed, somehow managing to become closer to horizontal than sitting upright in his seat, as he peered as you walking the short distance over to him.

With his legs widened, he pressed his face into your side now that you were close enough. His nose inhaled the familiar scent of your perfume which was only faint now due to the other senses and scents it had mixed with throughout the evening.

Rolling his face out of your body, he knocked his head back and pressed his chin where his face had been. The face you showed him was worn with worry, an expression he did not want to meet.

“‘S wrong?”

His ask was lazy. Not wanting to dig deep and know. What if he didn’t like what he found?

“We know how this is going to end.”

“Do we?” He prodded. His eyes moved over your features quickly before they partly disappeared to him, thanks to your curtain of hair which slowly fell down.

His hand reached up, desperately brushing it away and cupping at the back of your head as best as he could while he remained seated.

“How’s that? Tell me.”

“Same, but different.”

You knew you shouldn’t use his words, not in a way that could be considered against him, but they - in the most ambiguous of ways - described everything perfectly.

“Not if I have my way.”

His words were almost lost against your stomach as he pressed his face against you once more and wrapped his hands around you; sweaty, nervous palms pressing to the backs of your thighs.

“Same, but better.”

Harry guided you down to his lap, his lips somehow managing to remain pressed into stomach, or your chest, or your clavicle, as your face became level with his.

“Different, but better.”

He kissed against your cheek slowly, nose nudging at your skin as he willed for you to relax against him. “I don’t know how you like it, like this,” he whispered in confession. “Show me?”

A puff of air left your lips as you turned to look at him with hooded eyes. His mouth was closer to yours than you originally thought, corners of lips brushing as you slightly pulled away.

When your lips met, it was in the softest of pecks that trembled under your nerves. Both sets of eyes looking back at each other as you innocently engaged.

If you were to take your eyes away from him in any way, you would notice those fluffy curls of his falling over his forehead and the lightest dusting of red blush making itself known against his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

He felt like a school boy, lost and clumsy. The kid who was once again flicking paper at you in science class just so he could pull a face at you over something your teacher was saying to get you to laugh.

Mouths hovering over each other, your breathing mixed, as Harry nodded to you slightly. You pressed your lips to his once more, feeling the way he gradually opened up to you, warmed and softened underneath the puckering of your mouth against his.

His hands, that slightly trembled, smoothed over your hips trying to pull your body so that it was more so flush against his. You moaned softly, your hands running over his jumper covered shoulders, fingers digging and pulling at the material just below the nape of his neck.

The chair beneath you moved lightly against the floor, not quite a scrape but a dull drag. Neither of you broke the kiss, but his hands against you allowed fingers to dig in to hold you steady to him so if you were to fall from where you were sitting, he still had you.

His lips slowed, moving to press against your cheeks again as he panted and his warmth breath bounced off your skin. “Think I got it,” he heaved.

“Do you?”

Harry hummed his ‘yea’, before pressing his lips so tenderly to your chin and the underside of your jaw. He felt how you swallowed heavily, throat dry from the way your mouth hung open and your neck further exposed itself as you lolled your head back.

You were falling further and further back, finding it hard to stay upright as he devoured you and made you weaker with each pulling kiss. His groans were needy, muffled and making your ache. While yours were silent and making his desperate to pull something from you. To build is confidence in that he was doing something right, you liked it this way too.

Hands fumbled and dragged upwards at your skirt, faintly aware now how it was similar - if not the same one - to the garment you wore to his show.

“Gonna take this off properly,” he mumbled, feeling the way your hips moved slightly from his hands to roll over him.

“You don’t have to-“

“No?”

Your voices were rushed as you spoke to each other, barely audible but loud enough all the same. His head was knocked back slightly as you hovered over him and you found yourself admiring his blissed out face even only in the lead up.

This was a sight that you hadn’t received last time, and if you had your way it was one you were going to greedily enjoy in all its glory.

Like watching the way his eyes closed and he softly grinned, the left side of his teeth started to show as the one side of his face reacted first while your hands blindly moved to lift up his jumper and the white tee he had on underneath, to allow you to find the button of his corduroys.

“What ya doing?”

“Nothing,” you mused.

He pulled a face, the kind that down turned his lips, eyebrows raised and head slightly tilted to the side. The kind that had you smiling.

“Not trying to get m’trousers around m’ankles for a second time within a week then?”

You giggled. “No.”

“Please do.”

A low moan left you as you pressed your forehead to his jaw and dropped your eyes. Your hands slowly started to pull at the brass button and pop it open before seeking out the zip thanks to his desperate plea, encouraging you to continue.

Hands quickly sought out the waistband of the trousers and gently pulled at the item. From the way that you were sat, you knew there was no way you were doing to make them budge.

“Stand up fo’ me,” he mumbled, quickly helping you get off his lap so that he could make light work of his clothing and pull down his trousers and underwear.

His bare bum made easy contact with the cushion leather beneath him, eyes carefully watching you as your hands moved to underneath your skirt.

The fabric of your underwear slipped so easily down your legs, his eyes just about caught the sight of them as they pooled against your ankles and you kicked them away.

Legs pressed together, you slowly untucked the v-necked blouse you had chosen and pulled it over your head. Wearing nothing but a fancy black bra, and a tight little skirt you hastily snatched for your wine and took a hefty gulp.

You could feel his eyes on you, a gruff groan catching in the back of his throat and when you finally turned your eyes from where they had been looking down at your heaving chest and how great this bra made your boobs look, causing him to move his hand down to start playing with himself.

His name left your lips in a breathy gasp, causing you to look up quite surprised at the find of his right hand gently tugging at his hard length.

“Keepin’ me waitin’,” he groaned, his left hand sloppily reached for the back of the collar of his jumper and tee, pulling the item roughly over his head.

“Fuck sake,” he mumbled under his breath, agitated that he was unable to get both items of in one go.

“Smooth.”

Harry stared up at you with a playful squint, before he gently fell back and moved the chair as he did so, the dull scrape heard once more.

And if you didn’t know he was flushed before, when you first kissed, you were definitely aware now. His eyes were blown out and hungry as they devoured you. Hair wildly haphazard before he let go of himself with a soft slap of his skin and harshly pushed his fingers through it.

“‘S it still a couple of quid for a strip of three,” his words brought you back to him. This smugness radiated off of him as he groaned and leaned forward to push his trousers down all of the way. Over his vans and socked feet, before he toed them off as well be harshly pulled at his white sport socks.

You didn’t even need for him to explain what he meant, staying silent as you watched his hands tug at his corduroys from the floor and retrieve his wallet. As his fingers moved around to find a couple of quid, the jangle of the coins was taunting.

One leg crossed over the other, you swayed and found yourself blushing when he looked up at you once he’d managed to find enough money and then some. With his wallet thrown on the table, he stood proudly from the seat and closed the short gap between your both.

Leaning forward he easily took your lips with his own before pulling away. With his face still close to yours he whispered, “Promise not to look at my arse.”

He didn’t hang around long enough for your reply, instead turning away and brazenly giving you all the time you would ever need to admire him, his fantastic bum and his hairy legs before he opted for a jog-walk type of thing, suddenly conscious that he was absolutely walking around naked from the waist down in a pub owned by your parents.

While you waited you took a quick pull from his whiskey, needing the heftier burn for Dutch courage. Nervousness returned when you heard the endings of what you believed to be Harry whistling.

“Machine ate all m’fuckin’ change,” he grumbled, regardless of the twinkle in his eye at the strip of overpriced condoms he had managed to score from the men’s bathroom. “‘S Durex. Business must be booming, your Dad’s definitely gone up in the world.”

“Please don’t talk about my Dad.”

He smiled brightly before he reached for your face with one hand and pulled you towards him mumbling his ‘sorry’s’ against your lips as he gave you several kisses in quick succession.

His other arm loosely wrapped around your back and pulled you with him as he walked backwards and slowly lowered himself back onto his previous seat. The chair creaked as you joined him, slipping into his lap and feeling the way he was smiling now.

Pulling away from your kiss, he quickly tore away one of the condoms allowing the others to fall without much care to the floor. Teeth took a hold of the foil-like packaging and he tore it not so elegantly with his eagerness.

With his cock nestled in the crease of his own thigh now, the heat radiating from it matched your own agonising yearning. Scooting back to give him space, you heard him groan as he gently rolled the condom down onto himself. Eyes looking up just in time to see him knocking his head back and breathing deeply through nose. The foil-like packaging was back in between his teeth once more as his hands were otherwise preoccupied.

Slowly your hand reached up to take it from his mouth, feeling some playful resistance as Harry continued to hold it in his teeth. His eyes were open and boyishly sincere, as you tugged at the item and he finally released it when you lightly laughed.

“Gi’me a kiss.”

Obliging him, you leant forward and slotted your mouths together a lot easier than you had done at the start of the night. A heat built easily between the two of you, as Harry gave you his tongue and you felt the flex of his jaw under your hand as he worked your mouths together.

He was eager, his hands tightening on your waist before he growled when he understood he had to grab handfuls of skirt before he could cup your backside. But when his skin met yours and you ground down onto his lap, the groan that left him was the most animalistic sound imaginable.

The frown your face fell into showed your desire to whimper, as he kept you atop him and marvelled in the way you writhed, both from satisfaction and keenness at the pressure of his cock against you.

“Can I have you again?” He asked, the startings of sweaty hair being pushed off your face. His eyes peered at you, searching for his answer as you seemed to be able to do nothing but pant and look back at him yearningly. “Are you letting me?”

You dragged your fingers down his t-shirt covered torso and lifted it slightly just to see the quiver of his stomach as pulled you onto him once more.

“Like this?” you voiced, meekly.

“‘F this is what you like then, yea’”, he breathed into your mouth, hands shifting your pliant body. “Is this what you want?”

You wordlessly nod, mouth falling open in a breathy gasp when he managed to move you so he sat so enticingly at your entrance. He was teasing both yourself and him, wanting to keep you both on the edge.

Harry blinked a few times as he looked at you, and you revelled in the way he couldn’t seem to concentrate. His hands held your flesh tightly, fingertips dipping into the skin of your bum cheeks as he gently guided you down.

An unattractive and dull, quite strangled noise, left your throat as you let your forehead fall against his temple. Eyes falling down you see the cups of your bra fall slack, you felt his hands softly gliding over your shoulder blades and shoulders.

He rid you of your bra, hands moving to your chest to squeeze your breasts. His jaw fell slack when you found yourself sitting snugly on his lap - on him - settled and already feeling spent.

This was so different compared to the last time; if not overwhelming so because of the way you both appeared to be so present. Each movement of your hips, and the way they rolled and grinded and dragged felt too much. So much so that you had become nothing more than a mess of short, quick breathing and blushing, sweaty cheeks.

Slack-jaw, you were unable to find it in you to return Harry’s kisses, and his joyful, breathy chuckle seemed to lead you to believe he was fine with it. In fact he was happy to keep going as you were.

Your movements were frantic, and despite the build up, not entirely driven by lust either. Harry continued to encourage you to move as you were; slow, grinding motions on his lap that caused the filthiest of groans and dirtiest of laughs from the two of you. Laughter that was only made stronger as the chair that held you both started to creak too.

You couldn’t do much about it though other than to breathe into each other’s mouth, and rock your hips together with more fervour each time.

“Yea’,” he breathed against your lips, left hand at the back of your head holding you to him, while his right rested just above your bum. “‘S better. That’s better.”

It was better. Better than last time. Better than anything before.

And while it hadn’t been frantic before, it was now as your legs that were hanging down either side of the chair started to tremble and your toes started to dig into the worn carpet beneath them. Hips knocking and your clit dragging heavenly against his public bone, you grasped his name as you buried your face into his neck and dug your nails into his nape.

Harry hissed his approval which fell to a groan as your nails pushed up into his hair and lightly pulled as you sought leverage. There were so many things you were learning this time around and his penchant for liking his hair pulled from time to time, was one of those things.

“God, ‘m gonna come soon,” he admitted, gruntly as he forced your hips down as he anchored his legs and widened his seating position. “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” you whined. “Yes. Like this-“

And as you pressed your face to his once more, he was everywhere. Soft but hard, loving but commanding. Smelled like clean washing detergent but of country air. Inviting and alluring, allowing you your lingering kisses between grounding breaths that became staccato in unison with the movement of your hips.

You aren’t ashamed of the whines that escaped your throat as you squeezed down on his cock, praised by indecipherable works that left Harry but were nothing more to you than lips moving against your rough and dry ones. Word that made the burning feeling of your pending orgasm spread through your entire body, warming you and setting you alight.

It was long and deep, with your toes curling into the carpet they were pressed against now. Barely able to catch your breath, sucking in harshly and shaking.

And when you came to, thoroughly exhausted, you noticed that he was waiting for your say so. That he could let go and enjoy the pleasure brought about by your shared labour.

“Coming-“ was all the warning that you got and was enough to encourage you to watch him as he came, his face completely void of anything other than pure pleasure. Wrinkles and frowns fade, his mouth falling open with his pink lips glinting prettily under the dim Christmas lights around you.

His forehead gleamed with sweat as he wrapped his arms around you tightly and his hips bucked up one, two and three times for good measure. “Fuck me,” he heaved gruffly.

You were suddenly desperate to feel his lips on yours despite the way you both continued to fight to get your breath back, but settled for resting them against the skin of his cheek, which was hot to the touch.

When you felt Harry start to go soft, you reluctantly pulled away and let him slip out of you. He wasn’t so keen to let you get too far, holding you just that bit higher than before with his hand cupping gently but firmly at your hip. “Where’d you think you’re going,” he hummed, eyes still closed as he continued to heavily inhale and exhale.

You softly smiled, taking in his soft face and responded by nuzzling close to him again.

Nowhere. Somewhere. Anywhere with him.

A place where only the two of you knew, like the back of your hand. The same way you knew each other. Now and possibly forever.

#gbsxmaschallenge #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles x reader #harry x reader #harry styles x you #harry x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles christmas #harry christmas

564 notes · View notes