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twisted-wonderland-but-gayer · 5 months ago

Note

Could I request part two of "A Well Deserved Grudge" for the remaining OB guys?

Thank you for all you hard work Moss!

A Well Deserved Grudge Pt.2

You hate them after their overblot. Part one.

Characters: Leona, Azul, Idia, Grim

Content Info: Gn! Yuu. Yuu is fucking mean in this. A lot of angst. Azul and Idia self deprecated a lot. Mostly Yuu breaking down and snapping tbh. Grim Hate

Leona

“Wow look at who it is. The king himself. Tell me, what did I do to deserve the honor of being in his majesty's presence?”

Yuu locked eyes with Leona in the hospital mirror, no doubt out of bed against doctors orders. Their damaged face matched their voice that dripped the venom of sarcasm. They were smug, overwhelmingly smug with a slight smirk to match their upturned brows.

“Well…? I'm waiting.” There's no fear in their demeanor at all. There never has been. Even when there should be. Yuu was brave, he'll give them that. They had a right to be angry.

Leona closed his eyes, taking a breath, then opened them again. “I came here to apologize.” He kept it brief. The hatred in their eyes told him that them didn't want him here more than necessary. Not like he'd blame Yuu.

“Oh? But what for your Majesty?” By now Yuu turned around, and Leona could truly see the extent of the damage done to them. Cracks permeated their face, reaching from their cheek to across their nose along with the corners of their eyes. The small smirk on their dry lips twitched for a second and he could see a few more cracks on them that bled. It was like a porcelain doll knocked off its stand

“I mean…” They took a step forward, as if to circle him, maintaining eye contact the whole time. The thin hospital gown swayed with them as they continued. Odd squelches and snaps sounded with each step from damaged feet that shouldn't be stood on.

“You sure showed them, huh? Everyone will know how tough you are now when they hear the tale of how you… valiantly fought and won against a magicless human that dared to threaten your throne…” They continued to circle him for a bit before pausing.

Their smug expression dropped to a cruel glare, turning to fully face him. More pops and snaps sounded from them. Parts of their arms look warped, as if their flesh was made of plastic. Yet the cracks along their arms were nowhere near as clean as the ones on their face, crowded together in craters and showing raw flesh in between them.

There was no way to respond to this in a way that would smooth things over. There was no way to smooth things over. He debates between holding his tongue or speaking, brilliant mind now failing him. He knows for sure that Yuu deserves to curse him out and that they probably need it for their mental health.

“I am here to ensure that you're fully cared for. I arranged for some of the top doctors to visit you and ensure your recovery outside of the hospital as well.” There is no fully recovering from this. They both know it.

Yuu's expression becomes more neutral, then they seem almost impressed. “Wow. How utterly magnanimous of you, your majesty. Why I'm practically kneeling at your feet and singing your praises… At least I would but uh, ah I can't seem to fully bend my knees, hmmm?” Their leering only seemed to get more and more intense.

“Thank you for your kindness, your majesty. I finally learned my place now. I will never forget our first meeting where you threatened to take a tooth from me after a most egregious offense I committed to you. How awful of me to not be able to see everything at once while adjusting to a new environment. I apologize for my shortsightedness. This was a most appropriate response…” Their hospital gown stretched out with their arms, showing off their injuries

A mock pout they wore turned sour. They bitterly looked to the side, theatrics starting to fail. “Well, you did indeed take a few…” Yuu pulled the corner of their mouth, causing more cracks to form along the corners. He could see the raw, irritated gums that once held their molars.

“I'm glad you got what you wanted. Do you feel powerful now? Clap for yourself, I mean really, you do deserve it, I'll also give a round of applause as well…” Their damaged hand made a few slow, sarcastic slaps together that sounded like sandpaper.

“I do wonder… What would the news look like if they heard about this? ‘Beloved Prince Protects NRC From Human!’ or ‘NRC Now Safe From Magicless Maniac!’”

Their eyes searched his, staring deep into his soul. He couldn't tell what they found within them, but it was clear they saw something. “Oh relax, I won't tell. I don't have autonomy here remember? I don't exist, so why would they listen? Not that anyone would have believed me anyways...” The Prefect looked to the side, trailing off.

“...Okay I'm done with this, just get the hell out of here. You won, okay? I'm a weak little herbivore. I don't want to see you ever again. Just leave me alone.” They were disgusted as they backed away from him, watching him the whole time. Leona saw how Yuu carefully shifted their weight, trying not to wince from the pain felt by moving.

He didn't say anything. Yuu didn't want him to speak. They sat down on the bed and stared at him until he turned to leave. It was when he closed the door he heard sobs.

Azul

He was shaking. Shaking as he stood in front of the door of the doctor's office. No matter how much he tried to steel his mind, he couldn't relax. He felt sick. His hand quivered. He didn't have the strength to open the door.

He had to eventually…

A deep breath, and he pushed it open, holding back the urge to throw up from anxiety. From the hospital bed, he didn't fail to notice how Yuu’s expression dropped the second he opened the door.

“Oh. It's you.” The Prefect tried to sit up, just to let out a gag and choke for a second, laying back down. How many ribs did he break when he grabbed them? How much did it hurt?

“Great to see you again.” They snarked, wrinkling their nose in repulsion before relaxing their face again. “So? What's up? Here to visit a friend?”

Azul was silent, watching as Yuu stared straight up at the motivational posters on the ceiling as they wheezed with every breath, not wanting to look at him. They were clearly expecting a response. Now where was it?

“I- erm. Prefect– I mean Yuu—”

“Prefect is perfect.” Yuu spat.

“Ah yes… Prefect…” Azul found his footing. “I am…” He had a script for this. He had a script for this…

“I'm sorry–” he tried not to cry. He tried not to be that stupid crybaby, but he was. He's just a pathetic, stupid, ugly crybaby no matter how hard he pretends not to be. Stupid stupid fat fat stupid.

“Oh my god I don't want to hear your pathetic blubbering. If you're gonna do that, get the hell out of here. I don't want to deal with this shit.” Yuu was exasperated, damn near shaking.

“Choking on sobs while I'm choking just to breathe, are you fucking serious?” He was snotty trying hard to fight against the tears, they were right, they were right—

“Let's ‘make a deal’: take whatever you want, just get the hell out of my life, Azul. Don't talk to me, don't even look at me. Take Ramshackle, I don't care, not like I can go up the stairs to my room now anyways. You don’t even need to handle any medical shit I have. You won.” Yuu was crying now too, shaking in their bed.

“Got it? Just fucking go. And be sure to share my sentiments with Jade and Floyd as well. Spell it out for them: I hate them. I hate all of you. You're all so pathetic, you're not even worthy of being considered shit on this earth. I don't want you here.”

That was all Azul needed to leave. They hate him. You hate him. He feels sick. Filthy. He deserves it. He deserves it. He's just a pathetic little octobaby. It's all he will be.

Idia

Idia was beyond anxious. He was petrified to leave his room and see what he had done. Idia knew he couldn't hide forever. He had to confront Yuu and own up to everything he did eventually. He doesn't want to do this. Why can't he just hide away.

Just breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale… Exhale…

Phew… here he goes—

The second he stepped up to that door he could hear it. Faint sobbing. Idia’s feet were cold once again as he stood there.

Should he wait? Should he just go in?

C'mon c'mon c'mon— What does he do here?!

… He can't do this. He can't. He's just going back to his room and will send a bunch of stuff their way with a lengthy, well-thought out written apology…

It won't work. He knows it won't.

Dammit! His parents and Ortho won't let him avoid this forever…

Another breath. He opens the door. He feels he's going to vomit.

Yuu jumps a bit startled. They blink as if to see if this is real, then stare at him with contempt. “... What do you want?” Their leer has Idia damn near shaking. It was even more unnerving with the darkened veins across their face.

“I- I erm– I came to um… ahem. O-Our doctors at STYX will continue to work with you and monitor your condition. We… We're sure with just a few tests we can get you back in p-perfect condition.” His eyes scanned the various burns and deep cuts along their body, most of which were covered in bandages.

“... Are you serious?” Yuu’ voice dropped dangerously low.

“U-um… Yes?”

“No, I mean are you fucking serious?” Yuu snarls at Idia, teeth gritted and eyes wide. “You seriously think I want to be around you sons of bitches any longer after everything that happened?! After you destroyed my dorm?! Took my friends?! Af… After you did this to me?!”

Yuu breathes heavily in and out. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?!”

“E-eep!” Idia yelped, trying to make himself seem small. He wants to go to his room he wants to go— They're crying now, they're crying!!!–

"Unless it's a way home I'm not interested! I thought…” a sniffle, followed by a bitter laugh, “I thought the ‘whole ending up in a different world’ thing was supposed to be fun! Was supposed to be cool! I was… I was supposed to go out and explore and make friends and learn all kinds of magical things about how this whole world works and all that it has been for me is hell!”

They're sobbing into their hands. “I'm no one! I have to do all of this on my own and I have no identity, no nothing! I always have to fix everyone else's messes! I have to learn everything with no help! I'm always left behind, I don't have anyone, I can't… I can't do this anymore…”

They look at Idia, puffy eyes filled with so much anger. “Why couldn't you have just kill me? Why? It would have been the one good thing you've ever done. Now I have to continue living like this! Doing this stupid job! Having to check on everyone— and no doubt when I'm able to walk again Crowley is going to make me check on you!”

Idia was whimpering, backing towards the door he came in from. He knew this was a bad idea. He should have just stayed in his room…

“I hate you! I hate everyone! Nobody here cares about me, no one here ever checks on me, I have to babysit all the time, I never get to rest! I can't rely on anyone– and I have no one.” Idia was shaking, and just like a shark to a drop of blood, Yuu smelt his fear was was going in for the kill.

They're leaning in as far as they can, holding the side of the hospital bed. “What are you cowering over? What, do I scare you that bad? Shouldn't I be the one afraid of you?!”

Yuu is now glaring, the fire inside them turning icy. “You are so pathetic, Idia. I hate you. Hate. You. Just go.”

He was relieved to finally get out of there. Now he can shut himself away and take care of anything he has to from a distance, behind a screen. Away from everyone.

Grim

Something was off.

Yuu wasn't themselves. They haven't been themselves since the whole STYX situation. The second they made it back to campus they didn't seem to be as tearful or relieved as everyone was. They were stiff in the group embrace. It was exhaustion. It had to be. The adrenaline had worn off and they could finally relax.

It didn't explain how Yuu continued to be so distant for the next week. They would always round him up and force him to at least try to study so he could be a great mage, how Yuu would get on his case about every single little thing. His chores, the food budget, their jobs.

It was bliss. Yuu was less strict and he could finally do whatever he wanted. No more holding him back, no more lectures, he was free. Surely the prefect as his henchman learned their place. But then it started to worry him.

Yuu didn't pay attention to him. They no longer helped him with anything. They didn't respond to any of his usual quips. They left whenever he started to instigate something. Yuu just… didn't back him up anymore.

Ace and Deuce noticed it too but when they asked Yuu about it, Yuu just shrugged it off. Seriously, what gives?! He shouldn't be treated like this!

It all came out in homeroom. As one student, he and his henchman were partners per usual. Yuu was careful. They handled everything with precision and care per usual— Proper safety precautions, careful measurements (their arm seemed to shake a bit more, that hasn't happened in the past), perfect stirs.

And, per usual, Grim barely did anything. Aside from messing everything up.

Crash!

Everyone stared at the broken vial on the floor, with Grim right above it. There was tension as Crewel turned to see the damage, looking to see who to punish before his head turned to Grim. “I-It was Yuu! They did it!!” He pointed his stubby paws at them not noticing how their eye seemed to twitch when he did so.

“Don't lie Grim, Yuu didn't do it, you're just blaming them.” a random student came to their defense, leaving Grim high and dry.

“I see. Well then. Grim will have detention after class, and as his caretaker, you will have to join him, Yuu. You need to learn to keep your partner on a tighter leash.”

Yuu seemed to deflate just a bit. “... Understood.” Then they turned away from him as usual. Not even a lecture.

“Geez Yuu, why didn't you pay attention to me? It wouldn't have fallen over if you'd have done your job.”

It looked like Crewel was about to step in to lecture him. But Yuu’s voice cut in front of his, voice cold. “Because I expected you to be able to do basic tasks without coddling after all this time… Besides, you aren't worth it.”

“Wh- What do you mean Yuu?”

“I hate you.” You could hear a pin drop in that room from how loud the silence was. Grim just stared. “Hah?” He then glared at them. “Don't joke like that its not that serious.”

Yuu just shrugged. “Hey! At least answer me!!”

“I meant it, Grim.”

“This isn't funny Yuu.”

“I am not joking.”The Prefect crossed their arms and stared down at him, gaze cold.

“Recently I had an epiphany, a realization more like.” Yuu was speaking in a clinical tone. In this moment they were a researcher sharing their findings in a factual manner.

“I can't remember a clear moment where you have done anything meaningful for me since we first met a year ago. It has just been cleaning up your messes and catering to your selfish whims one after the other. I think what finally made me realize, was this.”

Yuu pulled down the sleeve to their uniform to show off the deep cuts Grim left in them after his freakout. They were jagged and deep and would no doubt leave an ugly scar. Whispers broke out from the crowd, murmurs about the dire beast circulated.

“I struggle to close my hand quite often now,” To demonstrate, they tried to flex their hand. Their fingers didn't extend all the way. Their face contorted into pain as they winced, hand shaking Grim swallowed, guilt washing over him as he tried to look smaller. “It's not like I can get occupational therapy so easily here, so I have to live with this for now.”

They now leaned down to him. Grim's widened and Yuus face seemed to grow more and more snarky, more cruel. “None of this would have happened if you just listened. How many times have I warned you not to consume those waste gems?” Yuu then leaned away, hand under their chin as they continue.

“Anyways, I then thought some more about all the effort I put in just for it not to be reciprocated. This relationship we have is quite one sided. It's more like 90:10 on a good day… and since then, I started to hate you, and everything about you…”

“I am a brilliant mind, you realize that? It's just an objective fact. I can't believe it took me this long to realize just how pathetic you are. After all, I have picked up an otherworldly language and culture and became near the top of my classes with the effort I have put in. I have a better understanding of magic as a magicless student than you.”

The crowd just watched as Yuu paced a bit, sorting out all of their thoughts for all to see. It was different seeing them like this, bit the students seemed to eat it up, taking their side.

“You don't contribute anything to those around you. You don't even contribute anything meaningful to a basic conversation aside from complaining about how tired and hungry you are. You cannot even sit down and review simplified notes I made specially for you.” Grim was shrinking with each word spoken, it felt as though he was being stabbed a thousand times over. It was a betrayal that he should have expected of he had any self awareness.

“You're selfish. You always take from others and don't have any endearing traits to make up for it. I have gone days without meals because you couldn't fathom that I need to eat too. You fail to recognize others as people and use them as scapegoats. The only reason you're passing your classes is because I get straight As... Thank you for turning them into Cs by the way.”

They didn’t seem to care how he felt. They didn't feel bad. How could they? “Surely by now you should be able to take care of yourself, oh great mage? You always told me how overbearing I was. Thankfully, I have good news.” He had a feeling it wouldn't be good news…

“Crowley finally got around to making our grades separate from now on, so you can't rely on me anymore. Which is why I have been collecting and saving all of my graded assignments.” Oh no. That was bad news. It was good for Yuu, yes, but now he's screwed. I mean he doesn't deserve this right? It's not his fault this school is so hard! How is he supposed to pass now?!

“You're welcome. You got what you wanted. You're your own mage from now on. No need for a lowly human to drag you down.” This lowly human was the only reason he got this far.

"I'm sure I could find other students in my classes that will help me with any magic barriers— you are barely able to do it anyways. It doesn't matter if you get held back to me anymore, I can graduate without you. I no longer have to rely on you to exist here, so I can finally say it: I hate you.”

The class seemed shocked, asking each other if Grim really was that awful. Grim was blubbering, panicking. A firm smack of a ruler hitting the inside of a hand interrupted it all. “That's enough, Yuu! Bad dog!” Crewel tapped the ruler in his palm again.

“My apologies professor, I am done. I do hope my potion is up to your standards, seems like Grim hasn't started on his.” They set a delicate bottle on his desk, awaiting review.

He was panicked now. Wait. Fuck. He hasn't been helping. It was Yuus potion! The direbeast merely looked over to Yuu who cleaned up their workstation, not even sparing a glance to him until the very end. They looked over once more at Grim through their goggles.

“I do hope you remember your detention. In any case I am done here, I am going to go help other groups professor.” Just like that, they left him, Grim could only watch as the group they joined adopted them instantly, asking them if they were alright and offering their magic if they needed it. It was no suprise most student liked them. They were always kind. The only looks he got back were from other students that seemed to judge him.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #angst #azul ashengrotto x reader #idia shroud x reader #twst grim x reader

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munchhmm · 20 days ago

Note

hey ml! Was wondering if you could do headcanons of one piece men, specifically Zoro, with a love interest (preferably fem) who is SUPER strong, and fast, like Saitama.

Thank youuu! Byeee

More Than Muscle

Hi annon! I’m sorry I’ve never watched One Punch Man and I'm not feeling very well oops, but I have an idea (I think) of what you were expecting though!! hopefully this is good :’)

The boys reacting to reader being super duper strong! ♡

Image above is mine.

Pairings: Zoro, Ace, Law, Smoker, and Luffy x F!reader.

Warnings: None! ᐢ. .ᐢ

Word count: 550 I'm sorry It's so short :(

Zoro > ᴗ•

Doesn’t want to admit you might be stronger than him.

Sees firsthand how powerful your skills are—he’s in awe but would never show it.

Trains harder to try and get on your level, even though in the back of his head he knows it’s probably not possible.

Secretly finds it cute and fun; sparring with you felt like a real challenge.

“Where did all of this come from?” —asking out of sheer curiosity but with a hint of annoyance, knowing you’re beating his ass.

Protects you silently; he sees your strength but knows everyone gets tired sometimes.

Lets you lean on his shoulder, eventually his lap after practice—running his fingers through your hair when he knows you’re asleep.

Ace ´ ᵕ `

Smirking but wants to be your biggest fan on the inside.

Constantly puts you up to tests, timing your speed and agility.

In awe when you fight, almost to the point he forgets he’s in the scuffle himself.

Still tries to take care of you like a baby—he admires you so much. Even if you’re strong, you’re still his love.

Honestly would probably try to stop you from going overboard, like you’re all fighting and he grabs you so things don’t get too heated. Haha, literally, right? Get it with Ace? I should shut up…

When you get tired, he scoops you up and holds your body like you’re the most fragile thing on earth.

Doesn’t care about the teasing—he respects you even if your power can compare to his.

Law ᵔᗜᵔ

Doesn’t say a word outright, just a small smirk across his face.

Worries way too much—his doctor instincts kick in. Are you pushing yourself too hard? Are you hurt? These thoughts circle his mind constantly.

Stands behind you with his eyes closed like he isn’t paying attention. He most certainly is.

Offers practical help: meditation and cold compresses. This is his way of showing he cares.

When you do inevitably push yourself too far, he’s the first to notice—almost forcing you to rest and take things easy.

In secret, he lets you lay on his chest while he watches your face, trying to read what mental and physical state you’re in.

Would never let anyone tease you—giving deadly glances when anyone dares to open their mouth.

Smoker •⤙•

Cold and stern outwardly; on the inside, he’s really impressed.

Worries about you in battle but knows you can handle it.

If you ever did get hurt, he’d calmly bandage you while cursing himself for not being there sooner.

Never lets you push yourself too hard, even when necessary—he cares too much about you.

Watches with a focused eye at all times.

Brags about you to other Marines without even realizing it.

Keeps your weak spots in the back of his mind so he can help when—really if—needed.

Luffy >ヮ<

Biggest fanboy from the very start.

“WOAH, THAT’S SO COOL! HOW DID YOU DO THAT?!”

Wants to join every fight you’re in from that point forward.

Secretly learns the way you fight so maybe he can copy you.

If anyone ever underestimates you, he just laughs and lets you at them.

Tells everyone that you’re the strongest person he’s ever met—and means it.

Makes you eat lots of food—aside from what he steals from you, ofc—and rest a bunch to keep your strength.

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enchantressiren · 2 months ago

Text

❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞.. 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐭? 𝐍𝐨, 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐍𝐨, 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭—𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲, 𝐈 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞.❞

How do people view your person? (Detailed).

Masterlist.

Author’s note,

I was so stoked to finish this pac so fast, but pile 01 had to be secretive and everything got postponed. ):<

Dividers

Pile 01.

Your person has such a misty, dark aura about them. Such a sad feeling that surrounds their heart, and the only person that unlocks the key to their heart is you or will be you. People think they have a sense of grandiosity or people assume they have NPD (narcissistic personality disorder), and yet they don’t. They come off as ‘a high horse’ or intuition says, “arrogant, nasty, and conceited.” The only reason people think this about them is because they are too reserved for their “own” good and follow their own standards of what is right and wrong. Their sense of morality is based on what has felt right with their mother and what they learn to appreciate from their grandfather. They have had an awful relationship with their dad's side of the family, and their morals are all focused on what their dad’s side will not do.

People see them as someone who needs to have a stick removed from their arse. I feel like you already know who this is and have had sex with them in the past and kept the friendship because of the chemistry, or it just feels right. And the rest will meet the person and feel that intense connection. Although most of you don’t believe in soulmates or platonic soulmates, know that they also feel the same way about the concept—both of you have been seeing the same signs or have mentioned it here and there. Most people know about red strings, and the same can be said about this relationship, whether it starts out as friends to lovers or friends with benefits to friends, then to fwb, to lovers. I know that you want me to get to the sexual part of the reading, but I need you to get an understanding of this person.

You need to allow yourself to have this relationship. There are a lot of commitment issues surrounding your heart. It’s actually hard for me to channel this pile. There is this nagging need to get rid of this relationship that I feel the need to disinclude your pile and simply say that there are only four piles. You want to be kept hidden, especially from tarot and intuitive readers, yet crave the same feeling of red strings. You need to have a word with yourself and actually be honest with yourself. What is it that you are seeking? And I know that a lot of readers have mentioned this to you, so I will say it again. What are you seeking? What do you want? Do you actually want love, or are you craving to love yourself? Sometimes we crave love from ourselves and mistake it from others and then become frustrated with why they aren’t making us feel loved. So I asked one more time, what are you actually seeking? Because there is only one lifetime, is this the life you seriously want? To deny yourself what you want for what exactly?

As you ask yourself these, I want you to fully feel them. Like, genuinely, breathe and allow yourself to feel them. You are safe, and you are allowed to feel them. And if you must, you can always write it down to someone that makes you feel safe and delete it. That safeness is what is necessary for you to have a change of heart for yourself. And again, it is something you deserve to have, whether or not you believe it yourself, but based on my intuition (which is unbiased), you do.

How do people view you? Imagine yourself in a traditional Japanese room, where there are tatami mats and the view side is a lovely cool riverside. There are fireflies in the nightlight, similar to the lanterns in Tangled. Fully immerse yourself in this scene as you hear whispers about someone gorgeous coming to meet you. A lot of people have had a crush on this person; they ooze sex appeal and fame. They have made people fall down to their knees despite their sexual orientation; they have made people question their sexuality because of them. Finally, this person comes to you, sits on their knees, and stares at you with a joyous smile, hoping you give the reaction they are so used to seeing. When you don’t, their smile falters, and so they do everything in their power for the same reaction, only to be stunned with nonchalance. Your nonchalance steals their heart, and their mind cannot handle it. You have made them realize making you happy is their only goal in life.

So I ask you again, are you going to push down your actual wants because of your fears when you are going to receive someone who would knock down everything, change their mindset just to make you happy? To see you smile because you made them feel human. Don’t you want to feel happy too? What is your goal in this lifetime—what do you actually want? Happiness or fear?

... Or them?

Channeled song:

All I ask - Adele

Masterlist.

Pile 02.

Trigger warning: Suicide but as a metaphor.

One word, it’s so hot. You know those people who never have a sex drive but they are into sex? Yeah, this is seriously the vibe. Their aura is hot, their face is hot, they have an amazing body, everything about them is seriously hot. You ever seen someone so damn tantalizing that you want to have sex with them but you have to stop yourself because one they may be a stranger and two, how do you know they are actual genuine. Same thought process here. They make you want to rip your clothes off and make out with them until you are gasping for air and squirming for release. They are the type of person who will edge on their lover until they are sobbing for release and when they give the go, they trick you to edge you further. Playing cat and mouse with them doesn’t even exist, you simply the bait and you got trap. That’s it.

They have this pull on you that you just have to give in, their aura is so sexy that instantly you want to follow them around like a filthy dog, doing everything they want even if you had to off yourself. And even if you did off yourself, during your grave and in the after life, you would do everything to become human to see them once more. The pull they have on others seriously makes you want to manifest that same aura to grab others attention and the best part is that they are genuine. They have worked on themselves so much, have done so much shadow work that their shadow work and their light self are simply best friend. The same aura they radiate is the same shadow work they fought with for so long and that is also something you have to do. Work on yourself to see them.

Some of you are desperate in meeting your future person that you have done the opposite of all the advices you were given and have heard from others. You cannot gain a happy ending with doing the opposite and assuming it is going to work out because you affirm for it. Affirming does not happen instantly whether or not you want to believe it and I don’t care that you are living in the end. It still does not happen instantly. You have to wake up and understand that others are simply trying to help you out, they want to see you strive and become better for yourself. So, if you don’t want to improve for yourself then improve for them. Your desperation is going steer them away from you and you are going to end up with nothing. So, instead of living in the end (since that has not helped you from the moment you learned about it), live in the world you are in right now and become better for yourself.

And becoming better for yourself is not a bad thing. You can still do it through other activities, you don’t have to focus on healing 24/7 and call it a day. From your past experiences and now, what has helped you heal properly compared to others? You need to use your past to help heal yourself. Those who are fully focus on the manifestation community, understand this: you cannot manifest what you want if you don’t take care of your inner thoughts and feelings. You cannot manifest if you don’t actually take care of yourself because being positive all the time will strain everything you want. And again, I don’t care what you say or if you become angry, whatever it is, this is based on your energy and what your shadow self has been saying for so long. So take a step down, okay? Listen to yourself and fight for what you actually want.

You want this person. So you need to heal and be kind to your shadow self. But you also have to stop living in the end and acting as if you have to be positive all the time because you don’t. It’s not healthy and it has caused you to lose the trust you have with yourself. Always asking around for help yet not following through. So for once, listen to your gut and trust the advice your gut tells you.

Channeled songs:

Say it - Ne-yo

So anxious - Ginuwine

Masterlist.

Pile 03.

Your future person is a contradictory person with a streak of playing with others. They like to use others to their advantage, see them cry over them, and use that to gain energy. They remind me of a vampire energy, always sucking away others' energy with negativity, but when it comes to bad people. The thing is, I know that on paper or in writing this, your future person seems like a red flag, but my intuition says that you have to meet them personally. That there is more that meets the eye and everything that I will be telling you will be the shallow parts and how others see them. The songs are their real selves, so if you want to be on a ride, then don’t listen to the songs, and if you want to actually understand them, listen to the song without doing anything and actually see them for who they are. Because they want someone like you, and they will do anything to have you.

I know that your pile is insanely short, and that’s on them. They don’t want anyone to know what they are like, how people really see them. Actually, they feel insanely insecure to even add it. “Yes, I use people, so I should be a confident person or I should be a manipulative red flag, but the truth is—” They don’t have the balls to even tell you anything about themselves. There are so many walls around them that if they were to reveal everything to you—you would leave them with nothing like __ have. Everything I am channeling from them is blank, always “I don’t want them to know” or “They shouldn’t know this about me, they will want to run, I am a disappointment.” They have a lot of gaslighting energy surrounding them, a lot of bad family members always using them, and thus is why they hunt bad people. They think that hunting bad people and giving them a taste of their own medicine is a sinful action and that they would go to hell (or if they believed in it), but another part of them thinks that is what should happen to these people because no one will fix them if it is not them. They kind of have a hero complex but at the same time a victim mindset.

A lot of you have wanted to meet them from the readings you previously read and have had this need to help them because you have a lot of love to give. And I love that for you, but you need to let it go and let them heal themselves. They are not someone you need in your life, and the chances of even meeting them are slim. Each pathway you have walked along, they have followed you the same way, and each time you were supposed to meet, they have sabotaged it. So meeting them right now would cause you a lot of pain, and that is not what you need in your life. I understand (once more) the love that you want to give to them because you believe that others should be loved at their worst just as one would be at their best. But their worst will ruin you, and you need to only love them at their best. Give them time to become their best self, and once you meet, instantly you will know it is them and vice versa. You have seen them around multiple times, always brushing against one another, or small hi/bye, or just a small glance at each other. Some of you are even friends with them and have been feeling an itch; some of you know them from work or have seen them around your nearby shops, some of you have a contradictory situation ship, and others are simply strangers in your area or from abroad. Whatever the case is, this relationship is meant to be, but only if they heal and you are patient. Stop focusing on the future and live a little in the present.

Channeled song:

Mirrors - Justin Timberlake

So sick - Ne-yo

We fell in love in October - Girl in red

Masterlist.

Pile 04.

The smell of alcohol brims up into your nose as you smell the richness coming from this drink. Though it appears as fine liquor, if you dug deeper into the brand, you would find out it only oozes elegance and prime. Each time you think you have solved a problem with something addressed as “too good to be true,” are the times you fail to notice how blessed you have been. Each time you try to find something wrong with a positive trait about someone, or about something assuming there is a catch, are the times you will miss this drink and crave it till dawn.

Your person reeks of richness, their outfits are from the old money aesthetic, their gazes are the only thing that draws you in, and the only thing you can focus on. Those little smile creases, those little eye grins, and those subtle movements into stealing your jewelry (no, they aren’t a thief). Their movements make your eyes glitch into the matrix and make you assume you have shifted into another reality, taking away your breath from how sensual their movements are and how natural it actually is. Their voice makes you want to take a double take and earn a million parking tickets just to see them again—their voice makes people wet, making others want to fuck your person raw and until they're oozing from drool, unfiltered sex, and cum. Their voice is the prominent part of this relationship and what has made you both connect (you both have nice voices and both have a kink for it).

When they pull you in or their victim in, they make sure you fall in love with their smile. They have worked hard on making it look good to use it as a manipulation tactic, and quite frankly, you’re addicted to it. It will be the only thing on your mind, and trying to rid yourself of it would require erasing their whole existence out of your mind. And that is something you cannot do, it would just hurt, it would be so painful to rid of something so elegantly, so fucking perfect—gosh.

You’re in pain and in need of comfort? They would come to your aid on a horse and come down like a royal person kneeling down or doing a courtesy to make sure when you are in pain, the only thing on your mind is their movement. To distract you from the pain, or perhaps make you fall in love with their act of “kindness.” Seriously, it should be both to them; they crave your validation after all, but then again.. If I were to tell you how much they crave you and how much they have changed themselves to find the right person, this storyline wouldn’t be so fun.

Channeled songs:

Poker face - Lady Gaga

The edge of glory - Lady Gaga

Masterlist.

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unpretty · 4 months ago

Note

Rare non-kink-taxonomy-hell ask: your description of Sorrowverse Joker as actually good at manipulation and gaslighting, to the point where the act he puts on might sometimes resemble Therapy Joker, has actually made me interested in a version of the Joker. Which has never happened before. Could we hear more about him/this aspect of him? Love your writing btw

what if we had a rare limited-time crossover event

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 🤡:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

"Helloooooo nurse."

"Don't whistle," she snapped, shutting the door. "I'm doing you a favor," she reminded him.

"I thought you were recognizing that denying me cosmetics had no purpose but to dehumanize me," he said.

"You know what I mean," she said, pushing her glasses higher on her nose. "And I'm not a nurse." She pulled the sparkly pencil case she'd brought from the pocket of her coat to offer it to him.

He did not so much rise from his bed as unfold. A spider of a man, all long spindly limbs in ill-fitting pale pink. With all the green of the rest of him, it made him look floral, a mop of green hair and his eyes pastel. Even the white of his skin had a green tinge on closer inspection. She'd been sure it reminded her of something and had spent hours online trying to find it. She'd decided on a small emerald moth, staring at stock photos of delicate wings almost translucent and trying to remember where she ever could have seen one.

Charming as a bouquet full of insects.

He plucked the bag from her hand and pulled what looked like a butterfly knife from inside. He grinned, and when he did his face seemed to grow twice as long and half of it teeth. Gleaming purple metal spun between long fingers, but when he pointed it at her to watch her recoil, it had the teeth of a comb. He waggled his eyebrows at her before running it through his hair, using both hands and raising his elbows much higher than necessary so his shirt rode up. She pressed her lips together rather than dignify the performance with a response.

His eyebrows were still pristine and had been since he'd been admitted. Precise arches with edges razor-sharp.

Without products to keep it in place, his hair fell back down at an angle from his widow's peak. "Don't pretend I'm not funny, Dr. Quinn," he said, metal twirling between his fingers again.

"Quinzel," she corrected.

"Nurse Harlequin," he said, rummaging through the limited personal effects she'd brought him. It was absurd to refuse anyone these few small comforts. She'd always thought so. It was punitive, the way they denied any dignity to anyone they were meant to be treating.

There but for the grace of God, she thought and tried not to.

"I don't have a mirror," he declared, holding a red vial she was sure could not be blood. He reached out to touch beneath her chin. "Hold still."

"Mr. J," she warned, refusing as she always did to refer to him by the only name they had for him.

"I love it when you call me that," he said with relish, using her glasses as a mirror to apply tint to his lips with a wand. "Say it again, doll."

"If they catch you wearing lipstick—"

"It's stain," he said dismissively. "They can't prove it. For all they know I got this the old-fashioned way, sucking dick in the bathroom again."

"Agai—"

"Excellent work, Harley," he said, and then his lips were on hers. She made a muffled sound of indignation and was careful not to move. He'd done this before, the first time they'd met, when he'd learned her name and had a good laugh about it. She'd slapped him for it then, hadn't protested when they'd put him in isolation for it. "Aw," he said as he pulled away, touching her lower lip. "I know it hadn't dried yet, but it doesn't show on you, does it?"

It was only stain, but his skin was so pale the red popped, his grin grotesque. A caricature of something unwholesome, white as a sheet and a mouth like a minstrel, too dark a thought to trust. It was hard not to think the worst of people, ascribe symbolism to nothing at all, fall into spirals. Enough real dog whistles without her inventing new ones.

"That's unacceptable behavior," she said, "and that's not my name."

"You don't call me by my name," he said, tapping the tip of her nose, "and I don't call you by yours." He dropped the pencil case back into her hands before she realized what he was doing, and she had to scramble to catch it in time. "Besides, you seem like a good ride." He made an exaggerated handlebar-revving gesture with both hands and winked as he stepped away from her. Something Fred Astaire in his footwork when he walked. She was careful to stay where she was, tucking the contraband back into her pocket.

"Do you harass all your doctors this way?" she asked pointedly, fixing her glasses again.

"Aggressively," he confirmed as he fell back into his bed. "The rest of them don't like it as much as you do, naughty girl." He sprawled sideways, propping his head up in a pose that might have been provocative if he'd had a curve anywhere but the jutting bones that slotted his hands into his forearms. "It's why they locked me up for being a deviant," he said with a limp-wristed gesture.

"They locked you up for killing people," she corrected.

"They were rich," he scoffed. "That doesn't count as people." Her nose crinkled, pressing her lips together again rather than do anything he'd interpret as a laugh. "You can tell because they didn't send me to prison."

"They didn't send you to prison because Gotham's justice system is fucked," she said. Arkham was privately owned with a budget inflated by charitable donations. It was inevitable that expensive-looking criminals were judged criminally insane, the worst of their excesses no longer a taxpayer problem.

He cocked his head. "Do I look sane to you?" he asked.

"Sane doesn't look like anything," she said. "We both know you knew what you were doing, and there's no medical intervention that would make you behave differently."

He grinned, too wide, too many teeth. She tilted her head a little, only enough to see around the edge of her glasses and confirm that his mouth blurred. "Yet here you are," he said.

"Rehabilitation isn't the exclusive domain of the medically impaired."

This job had been a nightmare from the beginning. Every day in large and small ways it wore her down, an endless river of bullshit trying to smooth down every part of her that believed in anything. No accountability, barely treatment, shifts too long with coworkers as sick as the patients. Less like doctors with patients and more like researchers with lab rats. Rubber stamps and no rocked boats and no goals greater than the status quo. Cameras easily bypassed by any employee who cared to, for whatever reason struck their whim. Her no better.

She should have done more. Her job shouldn't have been worth more than her principles. She could have done more than this, makeup and candy and burner phones in her pockets. She kept notes and told herself she'd blow the whistle someday. She kept her head down and kept her health insurance and knew herself for a traitor.

"Come closer," he said, gesturing with his fingers.

She was halfway across the room before she thought to stop and ask, "Why?"

He was grinning again. "Because I wanted to see if you would," he said, and at the look on her face he threw his head back to cackle. She pressed her nails into her palms and felt her face burn. "This might sound racist," he began.

"Then don't," she warned.

"No, no, it's not like that, I just—"

"Don't."

"I can't tell if you're blushing!" he said, exasperated. He swung his legs around to sit upright, his knees a mile apart. "That's all I was going to say, honestly. Is that bad? You can tell me if it's bad."

"I would call that an 'inside thought'," she said, still blushing. He cackled again.

"Really, though," he said, crooking his fingers again, "you should come over here."

"Why?" she asked first this time.

"So I can kiss you stupid," he said.

Her face felt hot again. "I'm not doing that."

He rolled his eyes so dramatically it took his whole face with it. "I have to come over there?" he asked rhetorically, gesturing at her. "Come on, now, doll. Give yourself a little agency, here. I'm locked up. You get to leave. That little love tap earlier was fine, there were cameras on, I get it, kind of hot if I'm honest, pretty into that. But I've got limits too, you know. You want me to play the big bad taking advantage, that's fine, I'm into it, but trust's a two-way street. Get over here and make it clear you know what you're here for, yeah? Despite what your bosses think, I'm not actually an animal. I'm not sitting here waiting for pretty girls to maim."

"I don't think that," she said, defensive.

"Naw," he said, "you're just coming in here when you're not supposed to be and standing in grabbing range, waiting for nothing to happen. Get over here or leave, I'm not going anywhere."

She half-turned, looking at the doorknob, but hesitated. She wanted the last word, but didn't have one ready and her throat was dry regardless. She felt sick.

"You're real scared I'm gonna laugh at you, huh?" he asked, and she whipped her head around to stare at him. He was leaning forward, chin on his fist, watching her. The pale shade of his eyes made it more predatory than it otherwise would have been. His smile was a wry gash across his face. "That happen a lot?" he asked, cocking his head. "Men telling you you're pretty as a prank, asking you out to make fun when you believed it?" She scowled, and his smile split into a grin. "Awww. Poor l'il Harley. C'mere, then. You wanna make a show of being vulnerable, be vulnerable. Least you can do, don't you think?"

The worst part was realizing, the moment he said it, that it was the thing she most dreaded. That he'd laugh at her for believing him.

She came close enough to stand between his knees, but couldn't bring herself to make eye contact. She looked at the hole in his ear where they hadn't let him keep his earrings, instead.

"There's a doll," he said, grabbing her wrist and yanking so she'd fall into his lap. She narrowly avoided her knee hitting him somewhere awkward. She was distracted by how bony his thighs felt compared to hers, all his limbs too thin as his arms went around her waist. He kissed beneath her ear, and she thought of his mouth, the wide span of it and all those teeth at her throat. "Doesn't being honest with yourself feel better?" he asked against her skin.

"This is very, very bad," she breathed, her voice shaking. Her own body heat was mortifying. He felt halfway to a corpse.

"Awww, don't be like that," he said, and she could feel him smiling. All those teeth. "What's the worst that could happen?"

#original #fanfic #a funny thing about sorrowverse is that i have been writing it for so long that some of my concerns are no longer valid #for instance i was hesitant to write any harley origins because i did not want to have to explain what bimbofication was #but now that's significantly more mainstream so. crisis averted?#unfortunately sorrowverse joker does kind of feel like a hate crime. sorry.#does anyone else find edgelord scumbag dom to be a relatable bad decision. is it just me. am i telling on myself.#have not decided if i'll archive this yet. that feels like a commitment.

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reidrum · 4 months ago

Text

let it once be me | the prophecy part 3

note: hey ,,, remember her ,,,,,,,,, ! feeling hashtag nervous to post this but pls tell me ur thoughts this went through !!! so many drafts !!! almost lost my mind like thirty times lol but thank u for reading <3 (reading prior parts may be helpful in having context for this part but im not really sure it's necessary, they're way shorter than this part either way)

summary: you and spencer are faced with yet another wedge in your relationship, and you're not sure if it'll survive this time

cw: heavy spoilers for everett lynch arc (15.10), we're ignoring the cm tl and time doesn't exist, maeve flashback, hurt/comfort, angst, happy ending !

wc: 8k (wtf)

part 1 part 2 part 3

Spencer feels he’s lived many lives, and that his lived experiences have thoroughly prepared him to navigate novel situations with a small familiarity. A cushion really, to allow him the comfort of seeing the path before he has to walk it blind. It almost acts as a sense of pride for him, a testament to what he’s overcome and capable of facing.

There’s nothing prideful about how awful things have been going with you.

It’s been weeks since your talk with him. Weeks since he vowed to prove to you that you were it for him, and he’s made so little progress he finds it embarrassing for someone with his caliber of intellect.

He’s toeing a fine line between being in your presence enough for you to see that he’s trying, and giving you space so that you don’t feel smothered. It was harder in the immediate days after your talk, when you couldn’t even stand to stay in the same room as him for more than five minutes. You had come home to his apartment the day after having decided Penelope had enough of your moping. Once you got in you immediately went to settle into the guest room.

It was near radio silent between you both those first few days. He didn’t want to force you, but it didn’t feel great when you would leave a room as soon as he’d enter. As the days went on, Spencer started getting resourceful. He’d make you breakfast in the morning and leave it on the table for you, your coffee next to it made exactly how you take it. Then it was little notes left in the most random places, all written with different things he loved about you. He never saw your reaction when you read them, but they’d always disappear from its spot the next day. Little things to remind you he’s there for you.

More days passed and it finally felt like the ice was starting to melt away. You’d started lingering longer in the living room if he was sat at the table still. One time you even made breakfast for the both of you, and although you weren’t there to eat it with him Spencer had never felt more hopeful.

In the field your dynamics changed even more. Normally, he would make sure to be paired up with you in the field to personally ensure that you were being safe. Since the fallout however, he didn’t want to be an unwelcome presence that only left you more tense in high stake situations. So he’d do things like privately tell Emily to double check your bulletproof vest, or make sure Luke was at your 6 if he couldn’t do it himself.

The last thing he wanted was for your current circumstance with each other, one that he knows he created, to distract you in the field and god forbid cause something to happen to you. He would never forgive himself if you got hurt because of him, but Spencer remembers he’s already done the worst hurt he can fathom to you, and what he really means is that he can’t afford to hurt you any further. As much as it worried him to do so, he had reluctantly learned to place some trust in his teammates to keep you safe. It was a balance he’d learned to adapt to.

It worked fine until it didn’t.

The silent car ride from the jet back to your apartment was so thick with tension, but not the one you’ve both become accustomed to over the weeks. No this was a different strain of anger, one that descended down to the primal nature of your relationship—you endangering yourself.

Spencer opens the door, barely waiting for you to enter behind him before slamming it shut. “That, what you did today, was fucking reckless.”

The anger flares through your widened eyes, “Reckless? I saved the hostages, Spencer. He would have killed them!”

“And what about you?”

“What about me, I had it handled.” you huff.

He raises his hands in exasperation, “He had a gun to your head!” he yells, “You have no idea what it’s like to see that.”

“This isn’t the first time someone drew a weapon on me, and there’s definitely more times than I can count when they’ve drawn one on you,” you pause, “Or is it different right now because you got deja vu?”

“What’s that supposed to mean—” Spencer’s face pales in recognition, “That’s not fair.”

“The hell do you mean it’s not fair? You expect me to believe otherwise?”

“He was going to shoot you!” he loudly repeats, “You don’t think I care about your safety?”

“I think you only give a shit right now because you thought another girl you loved was about to get her brains blown out in front of you. Again.”

He’s stunned into silence. Your words feel like a paralytic to Spencer. Like venom slowly traveling down his veins seizing any chance for his body to save himself. All the progress he thinks you both have made just unraveled itself into nothing. It’s paradoxical that his mind is quiet. You’re usually the reason his mind can relax, but somehow you’ve achieved the same outcome by metaphorically stabbing him square in the face.

He can’t understand when you developed the idea that he could care less about you. He can’t understand how you can even think he would be capable of

of not being with you entirely. He can’t understand where along the line you started believing that he stopped loving you.

It may not be a sentiment you actually hold, but he prides himself on being a good profiler, and more so knowing you better than himself. He knows that’s what you’re thinking, and there’s nothing he can do to fix it.

He speaks under his breath after a couple of minutes, “How long are we going to keep doing this?”

“Doing what—“

“This!” He gestures wildly with his hands. “This back and forth where you’ve convinced yourself you’re able to move past this but clearly can’t!”

You stare at him, “Look, I’m trying.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

The familiar sting burns the backs of your eyes, the first sign of your resolve crumbling. “That’s not fair.”

He sighs and moves closer, your head hanging low and finding the wooden floor patterns deeply interesting. “You won’t even look at me.” he whispers, “Do you still love me?”

You look up at him stunned, “Spencer…I—I do…It’s just…”

He feels his heart breaking in a new way, “That’s not convincing.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No, I guess I can't,” he shakes his head defeatedly. “I don’t know what else I can do, baby.”

“…I want to forgive you.”

Spencer’s eyes blur from tears, “But you can’t.”

“I don’t know how,” you whisper before a sardonic chuckle leaves you, “You know me, memory like an elephant.”

Spencer refrains from telling you that dolphins are actually the species with the longest memory capacity, and that the reason for possessing such a feature is to maintain the social dynamics and relationships that come with survival in the ocean. A dolphin’s memory is what keeps them rooted back to where they belong, being able to remember individuals and behaviors even after being apart for so long. That no matter how far they stray, they’ll always come home.

He settles for a soft agreement, “Yeah, I do know you.”

You make the mistake of meeting his eyes, equally and tragically as broken as yours, puffy and red rimmed.

“I don’t know what to do.” you whisper brokenly.

“I don’t either.”

The silence weighs heavy in the living room. The metronomic tick of the clock becomes louder, the birds and the wind outside whistle louder. You’re cornered, forced to come to face the results. And like a prey backed into the corner you do what the prey do best—You run.

“I have to go.” you grab the keys and put your shoes on.

“What?” he steps closer, “You can’t just leave, we just got home.”

“I can’t be here right now,” your voice cracks, “I just…need some time to think.”l

Spencer’s heart falls straight through the floor. Time to think about what? Is this when the foundation beneath you both finally buckles under the immense pressure it’s been on for weeks, and you’re left to scavenge the ruins?

As much as it pains him to let you walk out the door, he knows that nothing would be accomplished at home and it would only hurt you more to stay.

“Okay.” he whispers.

“Okay.”

“Be safe.” I love you.

You look back, “I will. You too.” I love you too.

The door shuts gentler this time, as if careful not to disturb the few pieces of Spencer still left standing behind the door. It doesn’t matter, they’ve already fallen over. Any resolve he had left is slipping away with every step you take further away, never feeling more defeated in his life than this moment.

He trudges over to the study, hoping he can at least bury himself in work to distract himself from the turmoil of his reality. The desk is strewn across with files and papers, mentally making a list of the tasks he has to do. At the top of his to-do list is the Everett Lynch case, having just closed the case a few days back meaning the paperwork would be due to the brass soon.

Spencer glances over the open file and reviews the details of the final moments of the case, recalling the stark change in Lynch’s MO that still left him puzzled. The victimology and the profile just didn’t add up to what actually happened, why he ended up dying with his mother in the house. That wasn’t supposed to happen, Spencer wasn’t supposed to send five SWAT agent in not knowing their fate only seconds later. How the case simply ended anticlimactically after nearly a year long chase. A dull ache begins to form in his head as he thinks, the bureau is going to have a field day processing this case.

He rubs his forehead with his hand to soothe the pain building up, making a note to get painkillers after he finishes. As he continues to read the file he starts to see his confusion take a basis as the initial profile doesn’t add up at all to what actually happened, in fact for as long as he evaded the FBI he really shouldn’t have just, died.

Spencer freezes. Did he die?

Lynch wouldn’t just commit suicide, that was too easy. He watched the house blow up with him and his mother inside, not even including the agents the explosion took out with it. The pain in his head is too much to bear at this point and he decides that getting Advil can’t wait until he’s done. He stands up and immediately wobbles as he grips the desk for support. Through the blurred vision and spinning room Spencer tries to makes sense of Lynch’s discrepancy.

Everett Lynch wouldn’t commit suicide, because he didn’t.

“He’s still alive.” he realizes gravely. Then it all goes black.

———

You get in your car and drive off to god knows where, just not there. It’s sheer autopilot driving you to the other side of town, which is more than welcomed as the tears threaten to blur your vision coming down in hot trails. You end up pulling into the parking lot of your favorite donut shop, one that you discovered with Spencer a little before you started dating. There was time to kill after being paired up to visit the unsub’s dump site and you were so insistent about needing a sweet treat, Spencer thought it was clinical.

“You’re acting like you’ll die if we don’t stop for a, what did you call it? A sweet treat?”

“I will!” you whine, “Don’t you know that girls, specifically me, are mandated to have at least one sweet treat per day?”

He pulls into the parking lot of the donut shop he’d spotted on the way there. “Oh yeah? What happens if you don’t?” he teases.

“You’ll see me as the unsub in the next case.”

Spencer can’t help the laugh that leaves him, loud and earnest. “Alright, c’mon. We already have enough criminals to last us till retirement.”

You and Spencer are definitely not together at this moment in time, but the little old lady owner of the shop really can’t believe otherwise as she watches you both bicker about which flavors you’re getting for the half dozen box. She’s almost certain you’re together as she watches Spencer end up getting all the flavors you wanted despite putting up a fight for others. And she’s fully convinced, with no room for sway, that you are together as Spencer pulls his card out before you can even protest and watches as you miss the look he gives you as you dramatically sigh in content after the first bite.

Spencer would later tell you after a few months together, that the donut shop was the first time he realized he was in love with you. You recall how the same half dozen would appear on your desk every Friday since that first visit, with one chocolate sprinkled donut missing but placed on a napkin on Spencer’s desk. You would joke that he pavloved his way into your heart with donuts, but wouldn’t reveal your true cards that you fell in love with Spencer after a month on the job. The donut shop happened the week after.

“You alright, hon?” the little old lady owner breaks your thoughts.

You look around and realize you’ve walked yourself into the shop. You wipe at your eyes quickly, “I’m okay, Dolores. Can I just get the usual half dozen please?”

She’s not convinced but it seems she knows better than to ask and pry. She gathers the usual six donuts for the box, slipping in an extra one just for good measure, and rings you up at the register.

“Seven right?” you mumble as you file through your bag for the loose ten.

Dolores smiles, “It’s on the house today, hon. Don’t worry.”

You look up at her, knowing she’s only doing that because you showed up with tear streaks on your face, “Oh, no it’s okay you don’t have to do that let me just—“

She pushes the box towards you, “You both tip enough to cover the box anyway, please just take it. Hope you feel better soon, hon.”

Her kind gesture thaws your heart out a little and you give her a small smile. “Thanks, Dolores.”

You walk back to your car, locking the doors once you get in. You don’t move to turn the car on, opting to allow your emotions to overflow again in solitude with the comfort of a bavarian kreme donut. The tears prick your eyes on instinct thinking of the current state of your life, of your relationship.

Spencer was right, have you convinced yourself you’re capable of moving past this? You do still love Spencer, you knew that much. But you are hurt, you are tired, and you just want to stop feeling like you’ll always come in second place even when there’s no one to occupy first place. You’ve waited so long to feel chosen, like someone has waited all their life for someone like you to come around. Meeting Spencer felt like finding the little daisies that grew in between the cracks of concrete, proof that despite your stone hard exterior you were still worthy of being loved.

The sound of your phone ringing jolts you up, almost dropping your donut. With your free hand you look at the caller and press accept.

“Hi, Emily.” you try to make your voice sound even.

“Hey we’ve got a—wait are you okay?”

You clear your throat, “Yeah, totally fine don’t worry. What’s up?”

It’s clear she doesn’t believe you but Emily really doesn’t have time right now, “Listen, Lynch is still alive.”

You almost choke. “What?”

“The casualty report doesn’t include Lynch and they couldn’t find his body anywhere. While they were searching the house they found tunnels. He escaped.”

“Fuck, okay what do you need me to do?”

“There’s a gas station clerk who thinks he saw him and his car, I need you and Matt to go check it out and see what he knows.”

You scramble to put your donut down and wipe your hands on the napkin, “Yeah, of course I’m on my way.”

“Okay, Matt will meet you there,” she pauses, “I…Is Spencer with you?”

Your heart clenched again, “No, he’s not. He’s at the apartment.”

Emily hums, “He didn’t pick up when I called, it’s okay I’ll send JJ and Penelope to go get him. Reconvene at the bureau in a couple hours?”

“Sounds good.” you hang up and immediately start driving over to the gas station. Something doesn’t feel right, you can feel it in your gut. You quickly check Spencer’s location just to be safe, and relax when you see he’s still at home. He’s probably just taking a nap.

What Emily decides you can’t ever know about is the call she gets twenty minutes later from a hysterically crying Penelope, who in between sobs tells her that they’re on the way to George Washington Hospital. That when JJ and Penelope opened the door to Spencer’s apartment he was passed out on the floor, blood dripping from his nose. How when JJ went to start CPR he entered a seizure and coded in the ambulance.

No, you can’t know this, because Emily knows that the call alone that she has to give you is going to shatter your broken pieces even further.

—

You pull out your phone to call Emily and see an incoming call from her, “Hey, I was just about to call you. The guy said he drove a red ford pickup, we were able to get the license plate from the security cameras but it came up as a stolen plate—“

Emily says your name in a tone you’ve never heard her use. It makes you stop in your tracks, an icy chill shooting down your spine, “What?”

“Something’s happened.”

You step outside of the gas station shop holding your breath, “What do you mean?”

Emily pinches the bridge of her nose, “It’s about Spencer, he’s…”

She pauses for too long. The panic rises fast. “Emily.”

“They found him passed out on the floor of his apartment. Penelope called 911 and they’re on the way to the hospital right now.”

No.

No, no, no.

The color drains from your face as fast as your heart plunges to the ground. “Wh—what?”

She’s lying, she has to be right? You just saw Spencer literally a few hours ago and he was fine. No signs of distress or anything, she has to be lying. She has to be lying.

“The EMT thinks he has a brain bleed, it um…caused him to have a seizure when JJ and Penelope found him.”

The nausea rises before you can anticipate it, scanning your surroundings for a trash can and immediately hurling up the contents of your stomach. Wiping your mouth with your sleeve you put the phone back to your ear, “Which hospital?”

“George Washington Memorial, they should already be there by now.”

“Okay, I’m on the way.” you sniffle.

Emily doesn’t know what other encouraging words she can provide you, she doesn’t think any words exist to comfort herself even let alone you. “Keep me updated please.”

The call ends and you have to steady yourself on the nearby wall, head reeling with mountainous emotions and unable to make sense of any of them.

You look around through blurred eyes for Matt calling out to him, “Matt, Matt give me the keys I need to go to the hospital.” you hold a shaky hand out.

He looks at you confused and concerned, “What? Are you okay, why do you need to go—“

“Sp—“ you stutter, unable to even speak the words into existence, “Spencer’s in the hospital.”

Matt’s face pales, “I’ll drive you, come on.”

—

“They said it’s a brain bleed.” you mumble after a few minutes of silence in the car.

“A brain bleed? How could that have…” he trails off in realization.

“What?” you ask nervously.

He grips the steering wheel harder, “The bomb, at the Lynch house.”

Fuck. The EMTs who checked him out that day said he only had a mild concussion, nothing else to be concerned about. A few cuts and scratches but nothing that wouldn’t heal. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen to him.

You sniffle and hastily wipe at your face again, your skin growing red with irritation with every contact.

Matt looks at you with a look he wouldn’t call pity, but certainly close, “It’s going to be okay, he’ll pull through. He always does.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as if it could prevent the fresh wave of tears from falling, “You don’t know that.”

He sighs deeply and turns into the hospital parking lot, stopping in front of the entrance, “Go in, I’ll park the car.”

You open the car door and rush inside the lobby, finding the receptionist immediately. She looks up at you and her face softens in empathy, “Who are you here for?”

“Um, Spencer Reid. He should have just gotten in.” you strain.

The receptionist clacks a few buttons on her keyboard before speaking again, “It looks like he’s in the ICU, are you blood related?”

“Are we…what?” you ask confused.

“Well honey, because he’s in the ICU we can only let in blood related family or spouses to stay with them.”

You outwardly deflate, “Oh…I—“

“She’s his fiancée!”

You look to the source of the new voice and are met with Penelope, donning matching red rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks. Her eyes look at you in silent communication and you turn back to the desk, “Y—Yeah, I’m his fiancée.”

If the receptionist isn’t convinced she doesn’t show it, willing to turn a blind eye in pure understanding of the situation. “Room 204.”

“Thank you.” You duck down the hall scanning the numbers before coming up on 204, the door cracked open slightly. Your hand hovers over the handle in hesitation, scared of what you’ll find on the other side. Penelope comes up behind you and rests her hand on yours and helps you open the door.

The sight hits you like a truck. All the wires hooked up to his limbs pumping IV fluids and the heart monitor beeping steadily. He’s paler than you’ve ever seen him. His skin is clammy, the hair sticking to his forehead. You can see that from across the room and all you can think about is how uncomfortable he must feel from the sweat coating him. You used to tease him once upon a time when he’d sometimes take multiple showers a day because of how much it bothered him.

“Another shower? Spence, our water bill is about to be crazy.”

He laughs and waves you off, “Don’t worry about that, I can charge the water bill as bureau compensation.”

“Okay, one that sounds illegal. Two, the more time you spend in the shower, the less time you spend with me.” you moan with fake petulance.

You yelp as he suddenly sneaks up behind you, caging you to his chest with his arms, “So join me.”

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of getting clean?” you giggle, leaning your head back into the crevice of his neck.

He presses a soft kiss to your temple, “You do know what showers are for, right?”

You nod, “To get clean! It would get even dirtier before it got cleaner.”

“I think that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

The smile on your face grows the widest it can before you break off into a sprint down the hallway towards the bathroom, Spencer trailing behind with your laughs mixing in the light air.

You don’t know why you’re thinking so deeply about the state of his perspiration, maybe a convoluted defense mechanism your brain conjured up so you don’t have to come to terms with Spencer lying near comatose a few feet away.

Your feet hesitantly carry you closer to the bed, feeling somewhat calmed by the slow rise and fall of his chest. You lean down and look him over, as if you could see the damaged inflicted on him even though it’s nestled deep in his brain. Spencer always said his brain would lead to his demise, and you hope all those times you played it off as a joke that it cemented itself as one, a joke. That you would be able to see his hazel eyes open again and they’d fill you with reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere, that all he needed in this world was you, and that he loved you.

You will and wish and hope to have his eyes open. You try not to think about if you’ll ever get to see them again.

A choked sob escapes your throat before you can help it, your hand coming over your mouth to muffle the impact. Spencer is hurt. Spencer is fighting for his life, and you were fighting him not even a few hours ago.

“Oh, honey,” Penelope reaches for your shoulders and pulls you into a hug, “He’s gonna be okay, the doctors said the surgery went well. Just waiting for him to wake up now.”

You cry even harder and Penelope tightens her grip on you, determined to not let you fall further down the slope.

“W—We got into a fight,” you sniffle, “before I left. It was bad, Penny. He was so mad, and then I was so mad. And then I just left.”

“You didn’t know this would happen, honey. None of us did.”

“I didn’t even say I love you. Th—The last conversation we had was a fucking fight a—and now…” you cry, “He can’t die, Pen. He can’t die I didn’t even get to tell him—“

Penelope grabs your face with both of her hands, “Hey. No, we’re not doing that. We are not spiraling, not when there’s no reason to. Okay?”

Whatever response you had falls dead on your lips when you take another look at Spencer’s motionless body on the bed. The calmness on his face is a stark difference from the Spencer you saw only a few hours ago.

She was right, there’s nothing you can do right now but wait. You’d just have to trust that Spencer would pull through.

You almost chuckle dryly through the tears. Trust and Spencer? The irony of it all laughs in your face.

—

Spencer’s eyes blink open and adjust to the bright light blinding him. He takes in his surroundings and realizes he’s standing in the middle of the bullpen. That’s weird, he thinks, I thought I was in the study.

“Reid, you sure you don’t want to join me and Elle in Jamaica?” Derek sings, “My guy can swing you a great deal.”

Derek? Elle?

He snaps his head in the direction of the voice, seeing Derek not even looking in his direction but still looking towards Spencer. Just, a different and much younger Spencer.

“Have a great two weeks off everyone, you all deserve it. Don’t call me at my cabin.” Gideon rushes out as he beelines to the door right past Spencer. “Seriously, don’t call me.”

Gideon? But Gideon…died. Where is he?

The scene changes with a snap and suddenly he’s back in his apartment, his old apartment. The one he lived in before he moved in with you. He is definitely in a dream, though with the vividity and theme of important people in his past he’s not entirely sure he’s only sleeping. A head of blonde hair on his couch catches his eye. He slowly walks around and his breath hitches at who he sees.

“Maeve?”

She smiles softly, “Hi Spencer.”

He slowly walks around the couch and kneels in front of her. The tears prick his eyes before he can help it, “I didn’t think I’d get to see you again. I—I’m so sorry for—“

Maeve holds a hand up, “What happened to me wasn’t your fault, I promise. You did what you could. But that’s not why I’m here.”

“It’s not?”

She shakes her head. “You’re dying, Spence.”

His face falls, “I am?”

“Collateral from the explosion, you have a brain bleed.”

It takes a few minutes for him to comprehend what she said, and he can feel his head spinning fast in his head. He can’t actually be dying right? The explosion happened days ago and yet now is when his brain decides to tap out, that can’t be right.

It simply cannot be right because that’s when he remembers you and the last conversation he had with you, and he has to clutch his heart at the prospect of his fate.

He won’t know if you’ll ever forgive him, if you’ll ever learn to trust him again, if you even still love him. He won’t know anything if he dies. He cannot die.

“M—Maeve, I can’t be here I—“

She places her hand atop of his own and he feels her. He can feel her hand on his, like she’s real and here. It’s alarming, and warm. “I know, it’s okay. C’mon, let’s go for a walk.”

Maeve gestures for him to follow her and before his eyes the scene changes again to a nearby park, one that looks a little too familiar to him.

She starts walking through the park, “We’re all okay up here you know? I get to read a lot more now, there’s so much time to read and postulate. Sometimes I get lucky and I can meet the authors. I got to meet Kant and Dostoevsky a while ago, very interesting people. Gideon plays with this nice little octopus friend. I know he’s having the best time.” she laughs, “But you, Spencer Reid, are not okay down there.”

He looks up at her and swallows, “I know.”

She turns onto the fork in the trail, “What’s holding you back?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs.

“I think you do know.”

A few silent minutes pass. “I…I’m scared to let myself be happy again,” he admits.

Maeve looks at him with a saddened smile, “And why’s that?”

Because everything he loves leaves him. Because when he laughs just a little too hard, he’s already scanning the surroundings waiting for the other shoe to fall. Because when Spencer feels he’s trekked up the mountain with long and winding breaths, something always seems to be waiting at the top ready to knock him down.

“Don’t think I deserve it, to be honest.” he admits, “I keep…messing up everytime.”

Maeve stops walking, “You love so deeply, Spencer. It’s a blessing and a curse.”

“Emphasis on the curse.” he deprecates.

“It’s only a curse because you don’t let yourself feel wholly. I know given everything that’s happened it’s hard but,” she pauses, “You’re not a clipped bird, Spence. You just…lost a few feathers. Nothing you can’t get back.”

It’s easier said than done when it feels like his mere existence causes you pain as of late.

“I feel like I have to hold parts of me back so I can protect her…from myself.”

Maeve turns to him, “She deserves all of you, Spence. It is a privilege to be loved by you, but it’s a greater privilege to be loved. And you deserve to feel loved.”

“What if I ruin it?” More accurately, what if he’s already ruined it, is what he means.

“You are not destined for sorrow and misery, despite what your life has made you think. She loves you. She would not have stayed this long if she didn’t. But there is one thing I think she could use from you.”

Spencer looks at her expectantly waiting for her to continue.

“She wants to feel chosen, Spencer. And I know you think you choose her everyday just by loving her. But the reality is, you can’t fully choose her without choosing yourself first. That means allowing yourself to be happy.”

A few stray tears streak down his face and he haphazardly wipes them away. For the entirety of Spencer’s life his purpose was to be of service to others. With his intelligence, his kindness, his courage. His needs always came second because the few times he thought to put himself first, disaster struck.

When he met you this notion only reinforced itself, wanting to ensure he could make you as happy as he could. You became his priority and he didn’t mind that at all. It was easy being with you, you made life feel easy. So when Spencer started to let his guard down piece by piece, allowing himself the little bits of your happiness to seep into his being, he wasn’t thinking about the abyss that had always loomed over him his whole life.

He couldn’t, not when you managed to infiltrate his entire existence by wrapping and tethering yourself to him with strings of gold. How could he? You made things so easy.

But then prison happened. Then Cat, again. Then Maeve, again. Three strikes. It should have been game over by now. He broke your trust, betrayed your love and he wasn’t sure if you would even stay long enough to see the damage unfold. But you did, and he still can’t really figure out why.

So here he is in limbo? Purgatory? Some figment of his mind in the wake of near death that is giving him the opportunity to make amends. Not with Maeve or Gideon or you or any other grudge he has yet to settle in his life. No, he has the chance to make amends with himself and forgive himself for standing in the way of what he really deserves.

A faint beeping in the distance reels him back to the present moment, Maeve’s face coming into focus again. The dull ache in his eyes coming forward again with how many tears are falling.

“Love is our true destiny, we do not find the meaning of it alone, we find it with another.”

He smiles with a watery chuckle, “Thomas Merton.”

“Spencer, I promise you, you will be happy again. And forever. Just keep the door open when it comes knocking.”

The beeping starts to get louder, like it’s approaching him fast. A warm glow begins to build around him, then light. He looks around the park again and sees the trees and benches begin to blur. He looks at Maeve as she stands with a fond smile, her figure slowly fading as well.

“Take care, Spencer.” and with a blink Maeve is gone.

In the silence he is left in, he looks to the epitaph of Jason Gideon in front of him and back to the spot where Maeve was standing, whispering a soft, “You too.” before closing his eyes and succumbing to the beeping.

—

It’s been 4 hours since you’ve been sat next to his bed. You’d be a lot more concerned than you were, which is already a lot, if it wasn’t for his heartbeat monitor beeping steadily throughout the hours. A sign of life, as morbid as it sounds, but it’s hard to be rational given the circumstances.

It had taken all of 3.5 hours for you to braven up and hold his hand in comfort. Hour one you simply stared at his hand, as if it would regain mobility and reach out for you. Hour two you were able to place your hand on the bed, not anywhere near his obviously. But enough to feel close, satiated. By hour three you had your fingers mere millimeters from his own, feeling like a magnetic force of the same poles was repelling you.

The 3.5 hour mark is when the exhaustion of the day caught up to you, and finally allowed yourself to relax in his hand.

At hour 4.5 is when you felt the twitch.

You look up and whisper, “Spencer?”

He slowly opens his eyes, revealing his hazel brown irises with gold flecks on the insides that meet yours sitting right beside him. You can see the recognition begin to flood his face, but is stopped momentarily when he starts to panic realizing the breathing tube is still in his throat. You hit the call button besides his bed and watch the doctors rush in to help stabilize him back down.

It’s another two hours of testing and scans before the three of you are left alone again, with the nurse promising to check on him in a few hours.

You’re stiff next to him, unsure what to do now that he’s awake and perceiving you again. With a small voice you speak, “They said they found you in the study.”

Spencer racks his brain for memories of before his fall, only able to remember bits and pieces. He remembers fighting with you and when you left. He remembers walking to the study. And he remembers reading…”Lynch! Did you get him? He’s still alive, you have to call Emily—“

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” you shush. “We know he’s still alive, they’ve almost got him right now. It’s okay.”

That seems to make him visibly relax knowing the immediate stressor was almost resolved. Now there’s just the matter of the other elephant in the room.

“You’re here.”

Your eyes soften as your brows raise in shock, “Of course I’m here, Spence.”

He stares at you and takes in your features—your puffy cheeks and red eyes, the skin around your nails picked to death, your lip nearly split in half from the bites and bleeding. He needs to apologize again, he knows that. But the second he opens his mouth you cut him off.

“Penny, can you give us a minute please?”

She smiles and stands, “Sure hon, I’ll be right outside.”

Once she leaves you turn back to Spencer, “We don’t have to talk about all of that anymore, it’s okay. You’re hurt and that’s more important right now.”

He should have expected that you would do this, selflessly push your discomfort and feelings down because someone you cared about was hurting. It was one of the few things he didn’t like that you did, and he’s not going to let it go again.

“Angel, you can’t forgive me just because you thought I was going to die.” he says sadly.

You’re taken aback. “I—I know.”

He swallows, “I really want you to.”

Your eyes blur again, “I know.” Another pause. “I’m trying really hard.”

A gentle squeeze, “I know.”

“I…I still love you, Spence. I don’t think that will ever change, but I’m nervous if one day it won’t be enough…that I won’t be enough.” you trail off.

Again, he shouldn’t be surprised that’s what you’re thinking. He hasn’t done a very good job at convincing you yet. It still hurts knowing that you feel that way.

“Do you know what I thought about everyday when I was in Millburn?”

You shake your head as he continues, “I thought about how when you eat cupcakes you tear the bottom half and stick it on top to make a cupcake sandwich. When we’re watching Doctor Who and you’re singing along to the theme song with only syllables. How you let me eat the olives on your plate and I give you the pickles on mine.”

“Why would you be thinking about that?” you ask confused.

“Because I don’t think I would have survived if I didn’t.”

The lump forms in your throat, “But…you took me off the visiting list after the first time I came to see you.”

“I couldn’t let you keep seeing me like that, honey.” he strains, “The way they were looking at you, what they did to me. I had to protect you.”a

You swallow hard, a few tears falling down your face, “Th—That’s not fair, Spence. I understand why you did it, but then when all the other shit happened… I don’t know what I was supposed to believe. I couldn’t stop wondering if I ever was enough for you.”

Spencer can feel his heart splintering.

“You will always be enough, because it is always you. God, sweetheart it’s not even a question of how much, it just is. I see you in everything I do—you’re the tangled headphones we use to listen to music flying back on the jet. You’re the annotations I make when I read something that reminds me of you, or if I think you’d enjoy it. You’re the smell of bavarian kreme donuts from Dolores’ even though the chocolate sprinkle ones are far superior.”

His heart blooms hearing a soft giggle from you, an earnest smile forming on your face.

“You are entangled in the things that make me happy, and you make them too good to be true. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I meant it when I said I would spend all of time making it up to you. You are my Catalina comet, and I love you.”

You can’t help the sob that leaves you as you remember the memory.

“I’m cold Spence, are you sure we’ll be able to see it?”

He tugs you closer under his arm as he keeps trekking to find the perfect spot, a chaste kiss to your temple, “I promise it’ll be worth it. Come on, I think it's a good spot over there.”

You help Spencer set out the blanket on the ground and use the extra one to wrap around you both, huddling closer together as you wait for the celestial body to make its appearance.

“The first time they did the calculations they used old observational data that led to some incorrect results, and they thought the orbit was only four years.”

“They just got it wrong?”

“Not everyone gets it right on the first try, sweet girl.” he says softly, “But then they did the math again, made sure all the factors and numbers were correct. And you know what they found?”

You ponder for a moment, “Did they realize the orbit was longer?”

Spencer beams down at you, “My smart girl. That’s exactly what they found. So when they did the calculations again, they found out that the Catalina comet is even more special than anyone thought. It’s even more of a rare sighting to get to see it, once in a lifetime really.”

You hang onto his every word, captivated by the story, “Do people wish on comets?” you ask doe eyed.

His hand smooths your hair back, “They do, some say the rarer comets have extra special energy to aid their wishes.”

You look at him skeptically, “Do you really believe that?”

“Do you?”

You look back to the sky, “I think I do.”

Spencer doesn’t look away from you, “Then I do too.”

You giggle and lightly shove him, “Cheesy…” He smiles fondly and pulls you closer into his chest, his arms warming you up before you gasp, “Look!”

There across the night sky streaks the Catalina Comet in all her glory, Spencer watches the comet track through Ursa Major and before he can start telling you about why it goes that path, you’ve already clamped your eyes shut and squeezed his hand, silently gesturing for him to do the same.

He complies, obviously. You open your eyes again after making your wish, “Did you make yours?”

Spencer opens his eyes and admiringly looks at you, “Yeah, I did angel.”

He didn’t need to make any wishes.

“Spence…” you whine through sobs.

His hand comes up shakily to wipe the tears from your cheeks, “Didn’t mean to make you cry, honey.”

“Well, what did you expect by bringing that story up?” you laugh with fake anger.

“To be fair, you were already crying.” he chuckles.

You scoff, “Mean.” You look at his eyes, and really look at him and see nothing but love and adoration staring back at you. You take a deep breath, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I believe you.” his eyes soften, you continue, “I love you.”

He brings your hand up to his lips and gently kisses it, “I love you so much. I’m sorry again, sweet girl.”

You lean up to him on the bed and press a soft kiss to his lips, and Spencer can feel his wounds start to hurt less and less. “You should get some rest, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You make yourself as comfy as you can whilst sat on the armchair, bent over to be able to rest your head next to Spencer. It feels okay for a bit, and then he tangles his hand in your hair gently moving back and forth and suddenly you’re satisfied with never moving ever again.

The quiet air between you both is enough to lull you to sleep, before a thought runs through your mind.

“You know something funny,” you mumble, “Pen told the receptionist I was your fiancée so they’d let me see you.”

And poor Spencer, in between his sleepy haze and the dull ache of pain from his injuries, only hears the word fiancée.

“You found the ring?” he sighs, “I thought I hid it well.”

You still under his hand.

“…There’s a ring?”

His eyes shoot open, realizing he misheard you and tries to play it off, “So…Penelope lied to staff. Tsk Tsk.”

“There’s a ring.” you say pointedly, the corners of your lips upturned to reach a smile.

Spencer thinks he can try and get out of this but decides it’s better to come clean, “Fine, okay. Of course there’s a ring.”

“Of course?”

The surprise on your face honestly stuns Spencer, and he feels a little saddened that you were in disbelief of the possibility.

“Yeah baby, of course.”

Your bottom lip wobbles with a creeping suspicion of his answer, “How long have you had it?”

“Got it after our six month.”

You shakily exhale. There is no ounce of doubt in your body that he loves you, and that you really are all he needs. “ ‘M sorry I ruined the surprise.”

He grins, “It’s okay, you won’t know when I’m going to do it. It’ll knock you off your feet, I promise.”

You definitely aren’t expecting it during a Planetarium date months later where he got the museum people to show the Catalina Comet passing over you both as he got down on one knee. You are expecting the endless stream of tears from the both of you, the aching cheeks from smiling too much, and the multiple missed attempts at sliding the ring on from how much you both were shaking.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fanfiction #the prophecy

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wowitsverycool · 7 months ago

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people who posture that odile forgiving siffrin and thinking The Time Loop is cute is out of character are a little silly... she is such a creature of practicality that it simply would not make sense for her to hold a grudge. and the 'cute' bit is her weird old lady way of recontextualizing the loops as not only necessary (as she explains later) but also *not worth being ashamed of*.

she is adding levity to the situation *and* building a brick wall of "it doesn't bother me, so stop apologizing about it" to signal to siffrin to stop arguing about how Evil it Makes Them. it expands upon her established character by showing that she is quickly learning to meet siffrin at their level while maintaining that sense of practicality. like "oh you think your yearning makes you awful and disgusting? bro it's not even a big deal. it's cute. i am more interested in discussing literally anything else about what happened."

the alternate perspective she offers is also one that shocks siffrin out of their own perspective (and evidently the perspective of some players lol), which has been the precipice of her character for the entire goddamn game!! think about it! the sus quest, the toilet paper scene, the end of her friendquest where she corrects siffrin on why her mood has improved -- she is constantly challenging what siffrin has accepted and resigned himself to!! all of the main characters embody change in different ways, but odile is arguably the only one who *actively rejects* stagnation in all its forms. so it only makes sense that what siffrin endlessly ruminates on -- the morality of their desire for closeness -- odile flippantly dismisses.

it wouldn't make sense for her to be Angry and Unforgiving because that's what siffrin expects (and, in a way, wants). it would be contrary to both her role in the narrative and her established character. her forgiving siffrin is maybe a bit jarring (as it is supposed to be), but not unnatural. It Just Makes Sense.

also, total forgiveness is neither unrealistic nor unsatisfying. it's just something that is often deemed 'too sappy' to properly depict.

#isat spoilers #can you tell that this is a view i agonized a lot over #in stars and time #isat

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hwnglx · 7 months ago

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pick a pile - what makes you beautiful? (detailed)

hello dear reader! let's take a look into what makes you so uniquely beautiful. breathe slowly, take your time and use your intuition to go with the pile that speaks to you the most. this is a very specific reading, so it's likely that not every message will speak to everyone. remember to take what resonates, and leave what doesn't. 𓆩♡𓆪

✰ pile 1 ✰

so, this pile definitely gave me the biggest boss vibes. you have very strong energy, with so much major arcana in my spread. i can tell you are not someone to be messed with. (also kinda feel like you might parent or coddle the other piles lmao)

your beauty lies not only within your immense strength, but also in your ability to stand over situations which can appear very dark and difficult on the outside. i do believe you come with your own struggles, insecurities, doubts and fears which don't seem to always find their way to the surface; but you deal with them in such a graceful and impressive way. i can feel some people being in genuine awe of how you handle trials and tribulations. i do think you've been through certain things which have given you thicker skin. now, you know what you want and need in life, you're aware of your potential and what you can do, so even if a situation presents itself in which you find yourself in self-doubt, you believe in the power of hard work and consistency.

you don't seem like the type to dwell on your problems for too long or allow yourself to drown in self-pity, but moreso like a person who feels this desire to work on whatever troubles you. let's say if a situation presents itself to you, in which circumstances seem unfavourable; rather than complaining or remaining stuck in this hopeless place, you'll likely be the type to think about how you can change and work on your own attitude and mindset instead, in order to come out the other side in a stronger manner. you put a lot of importance into remaining confident and keeping a grip on your self-belief. since you see that as the best version of yourself. you appear to be very mature; even if your age is still young, you seem to have a wise soul and an impressingly reliable, as well as responsible nature. maybe you had to grow up quickly, you just give off this energy of someone who had to learn how to be responsible in life very early on.

considering i got both, the emperor and the empress for you, i think a lot of your beauty also lies in your duality. you're likely to have this balance of both feminine and masculine qualities inside of you. you seem to be the type of person who can be assertive, more self-centered and individualistic in some ways, like you do think it's important to focus on yourself in order to find fulfilment in this world. however this doesn't distinguish the compassionate heart you carry for other people. you're someone with an empathetic and kind nature, someone who wants to take care of the people you love.

you could make a very good parent, actually. i think you balance this sense of responsibility, dependability and solidity, with a nurturing heart, a soft and gentle core. you might be the case of someone with a hard shell but soft interior. i feel like you're the type to root for the underdog. someone who takes people under their wing, protects them from external influences. like you'd take a bullet for the people you cherish. (i do think you might be more selective in that aspect though, like you do have your boundaries straight, and wouldn't just throw your hand in the fire for anyone)

this is a random message i got; some of you also might be on the curvier side when it comes to your bodily built, and it makes you very very beautiful. like i can tell that some of pile 1's bodies are bangin! like yes sir or ma'am, go rock that bod with confidence!

another very beautiful thing about you; you do not fear getting your hands dirty. meaning, you're willing to put in the necessary hard work in life. like “if i have to personally run up this hill for several hours straight, then so be it, as long as i finally get to the top!” you aren't someone who will shy away from bearing burdens and heavy weights on your back, you understand the need to hustle in order to succeed. you can feel this need to improve yourself, put in the required effort to keep getting better at everything you do in life. not just for yourself, but also the people around you. you want to be a comfortable and stable figure in your loved one's lives.

i keep feeling like you're just this person people can lean on with no second thought; someone who will have their back no matter what. very loyal, dedicated and passionate energy within you. i'd personally love to be your friend, like i'd feel pretty lucky! i feel like you're the friend who keeps their promises, who's okay with running errands for others. you'd get things done for someone if they're unable to do so; like e.g. picking your friends up and driving them random places. maybe you're the friend at the party who holds themselves back from drinking in order to be the responsible one making sure everyone gets back home safely. you just seem to have this devotion to the ones you love, and wanting to make them feel safe, as well as cared for. you might also be a huge hype man in their lives, always cheering them on and lighting up any dark place they find themselves in. you have such bright and inspirational energy!

you carry this beautiful balance of; focusing on your own interests, ambitions, desires and goals, but also remaining considerate and caring towards the special people in your life.

✰ pile 2 ✰

oh my gawd, this pile is super cute. so, you immediately strike me as someone very independent and freedom-loving. you love to have your own space, and being able to just do whatever you want, whenever you want. i feel like you just have this very contagious and bright energy, where people might trust you to make the best out of every situation you're in. you seem like a big risk-taker, someone who doesn't fear the concept of change, and isn't afraid of starting all over again if you feel like that's necessary. you're so beautiful, in the way of just being down and ready to do things others might shy away from. you might be the person who will drag your friend out the dark and quiet room and tell them to get out, enjoy the beautiful sun on your skin, connect with mother nature, appreciate the smaller things in life and find happiness in them, because that's where true fulfilment lies. there is this very philosophical and poetic side to you. i keep feeling like you might have significant neptune/jupiter/mercury aspects.. i can just see you running through the blooming fields in this almost movie-like way. (random but do you like ghibli movies? you just give me ghibli character vibes, especially kiki's delivery service 🥹 i love that movie, it's so comforting)

you're beautiful in the way where.. you easily see beauty in the world. you seem so easily excitable, and count all the blessings you have in life. i feel like you're the type to find something positive in everything and everyone. random, but you might love photography, and taking pictures of almost everything around you, just because you can see art in anything or any place. you love exploring new places, new cultures, understanding and learning about people or things completely different to what you're used to. you might like to travel, because you enjoy this thought of getting insight into entirely new lifestyles. you're very open-minded.

you aren't worried about leaving toxic people or situations behind if you feel like they just keep you in a negative place. it's kinda giving been there done that. i think you consciously reject negativity now because you're not at that same place anymore, and especially don't want to be anymore. you're so overly protective of your peace now, because you had to deal with so many tribulations, and took so much on the chin from life in order to get to this place of inner peace. you don't allow anyone to take it away from you anymore.

you also don't seem afraid to completely transform. maybe you even enjoy transforming yourself physically, like you love reinventing yourself and can find your identity in things like your fashion. you enjoy expressing your unique nature in that way. i also just feel like you're such a pleasure to be around, people likely just enjoy your presence because it makes them feel like everything will be okay. did anyone ever tell you about how your presence is therapeutic to them? if not, some people might think that without openly expressing it.

i do think you can be very emotional too, which is another beautiful trait of yours. you might be the type to tear up rather easily, i think your interior is very squishy and sweet. you wear your heart on your sleeve in this beautiful and special way. you not being afraid to express your emotions (although sometimes they can just take over you unintentionally lmao dw i relate..) makes you so extraordinary, it gives you this unique light and glow. don't ever lose grip on this wonderful side of you. don't ever feel ashamed of it, and don't allow anyone to make you think you're anything but beautiful for your passion! i feel like you genuinely care about the world, and everything that it involves. your energy is just so pure and innocent in a way, even if you yourself don't see yourself that way. your intentions and heart read as very sweet.

in addition, your beauty lies in your ability to see opportunity of growth in whatever life throws at you. like pile 1, i do believe you have had to deal with your fair share of challenges in life, but this lead to you being able to see how.. even situations that might look awful from an outsiders perspective, can serve you as a learning lesson. “what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.”

again, you're just so philosophical! i feel like we could just sit down together and discuss life for hours, in such a deep and intriguing manner. you seem to have a lot of understanding of the different complexities of life, just because you've experienced a lot of situations in which you had to adapt or adjust. so there's this natural know-how here, it's almost like you're not scared of life's upheavals anymore. you didn't let it discourage you at the time, so best believe it will not bring you down at this point in time. you're so youthful and almost childlike in spirit, but carry a deep sense of knowledge about life. like some other people might turn all bitter if they went through what you have been through, but you remained soft and sweet in this harsh world, which is such a beautiful trait to have! i sincerely applaud you, and hope you can never lose this truly wonderful spark inside of you.

✰ pile 3 ✰

oh, this pile seems so genuinely nice, but i can sense some struggle here too.. first of all, you read as a very humble and down to earth person. like i truly can't sense a single ounce of arrogance inside of you. you feel like you're an eternal student of life, continuously learning with every experience, and growing endlessly. you give off this energy of someone who's always so eager to expand your skills and knowledge on things. especially if you get hooked on something like a fun hobby, you're just so ambitious and approach the learning process with this modest, but determined attitude. you seem quite capable of dealing with constructive criticism, and take it as a way to further better yourself. like yes tell me what i did wrong, so i can improve. definitely a very hard-working and earnest energy within you.

you're so beautiful, because you live and lead with this sense of compassion and acceptance inside of you. you seem to have high emotional intelligence; as well as a lot of empathy for others. you're the type of person to.. hold this cup filled with love, in a crowd full of people fighting each other. while other people are overly competitive and at each other's throats to win over the other, you seem like the one who prefers seeing everyone as equally worthy of praise, equally lovable, equally deserving of respect. i truly don't see you enjoying to put yourself above others, simply because you don't see why you would want to. like i don't think you fully understand this need to argue and cause problems with others, it irks you.

you even might put other people's needs above yours almost naturally, it seems to come very easy to you. (did some of you grow up with a lot of siblings? i feel like there's this natural tendency to supress not only your own desires, but also your own emotions a lot.. i feel like you might've found yourself in plenty of situations where you needed to swallow your pride, bite your tongue, ignore your own emotions or grant others chances you yourself might've wanted.) you might be the type to politely hold the door open for people even though your arm hurts, offer the seat to the elderly even though you yourself are exhausted, allow your friend to grab the opportunity although you might need it just as much.

i do feel like you're quite peace-loving, and don't enjoy arguments at all. you seem excellent at approaching conflicts and problems in, not only this calm and collected manner, but also with this diplomatic and tender sense of understanding towards all parties. do you have any major libra placements? i can sense this beautifully non-judgemental energy in you, where you always seek harmony, no matter what situation you find yourself in. you also just seem balanced in general, and like not much can tick you off. some people might even ask you “how are you always so calm?” although i feel like you can experience feelings quite intensely once they take over you (i feel like you might cry a lot when you're on your own..) you just don't enjoy openly displaying your emotions, and might have problems expressing them outwardly. again, i keep feeling like this likely stems from a deeply rooted place, maybe you've just naturally aquired this mechanism within you, where you shut off your emotions and internalize them a lot.

you might put a lot of thought into how others view you, might dislike the thought of anyone looking at you as overly dramatic. you also seem pretty perfectionistic, especially in closely managing the way you're perceived by people, or the way you treat people. you might often fear doing them wrong, or overstepping any boundaries. i can sense an avoidance of expressing or asserting yourself strongly again here, because you just don't want anyone to feel like you're doing too much. (i know this is a reading that focuses more on positives, but spirit is telling me this selflessness in you makes you immensely beautiful.. maybe you even have a lot of egocentric people around you, therefore your kindness just stands out even more. don't lose that sincere heart you have for others, however; you need to listen to what you yourself want more as well <3 learn to balance these two sides in you out, because if not, others might take advantage of you)

i do think though, that a lot of this calmness might be a result of your maturity. it's interesting because on the one hand you can feel like the young student who still believes they have so much to learn from life, but at the same time, you do have a lot of valuable advice to give to people, just because you might relate to a lot of the things others go through. you seem amazing at putting yourself in someone else's shoes, i can feel people thinking you're a great listener.

i just feel like your unique beauty lies in this gentle, pleasant and mild energy you bring to the table. you'd be the type of person i could tell my deepest darkest secrets to comfortably, and i feel like you wouldn't mutter a word to anybody. like your friends probably can tell you the wildest sht they've done, without any embarrassment. or call you at any given moment, and you'd be there to listen to their angry rants or rages, and just take it all in quietly.

#kpop tarot #pac reading #pac #tarot reading #tarot community #tarot #personal reading #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a card reading

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keferon · 6 months ago

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Something for Ratchet getting to know Deadlock/Drift

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Ratchet doesn’t know when exactly the giant alien mech that’s fallen into his life became “Kid”. But he knows why.

There’s something to the way the other throws himself at life with a reckless abandon that screams of youth, even as Ratchet is fairly sure by the weathering of the kid’s metal plate that this mech is way older than he is already.

What frustrates Ratchet though is that the kid’s not even subtle in his recklessness. Ratchet’d barely finished welding his injuries before he started poking at the welds curiously. Just a couple days ago, Ratchet had caught him with a can full of neon pink paint halfway to his mouth. And then there’s the way that he still calls Ratchet “Rat”, even as Ratchet scowls at him. Because he knows the kid knows his full name by now and he can tell the kid enjoys getting on his nerves.

There’s the way the mech moves around his workshop. Clumsy. As though still learning to move around for the first time. Ratchet’s lost count of the number of times the mech has smashed lamps, knocked over tables, or nearly damaged delicate medical equipment that Ratchet’s quickly snatched out of his path (because he needs those, and they aren’t nearly as easy to replace as tables or lamps).

And then the day comes when they’re walking out late at night in an abandoned part of town. No one around to see anything suspicious. No one around to help when the alien falls out of the sky in front of them, a mass of writhing tentacles and glowing red eyes.

And Ratchet watches as the kid moves. A blur of motion so fluid and quick that it goes beyond practice. There’s a gun in one of the mech’s hands and a sword in the other. (And where had the kid even been keeping those?)

A slice of the sword sends a tentacle flying over Ratchet’s head. And a short blaze of gunfire later and the alien is nothing more than a corpse oozing green goo onto the sidewalk.

Ratchet is left clutching his wrench and staring up at the kid with something bordering between shock and awe. Reminded that the kid is also a warrior. A warrior ages older and more experienced than Ratchet himself. Deadly, when he wants to be.

Though he’s never shown any desire to hurt Ratchet. In fact, if the way the kid’s looking down at Ratchet as he stows the sword and gun back wherever they came from, the kid feels protective of him. And Ratchet realizes in that moment that he feels the same.

The kid can protect him from the aliens. He vows to protect the kid from what he likely doesn’t know (hopefully will never know). That humans have a darker side, can be just as deadly and dangerous as any of the aliens they’re fighting. And that there are those who will always seek to understand what is new and unexplained by any means necessary.

ANON I LOVE YOU THIS IS WONDERFUL KGJNGNGJFKFMFNCNC

I just. Ahahahahah OH I LOVE to think how much of a disaster Deadlock would be for Ratchet’s workshop hahaha. Everything is on its place? Nope now its not. The whole table got sent to the opposite corner just because your new big ass roommate tripped over it khkhk

ALSO. ehehehe. HEAR ME OUT.

I was thinking a lot about what would Deadlock eat while he’s on Earth. Since in this au Cybertronians doesn’t know Earth even exists so they didn’t get the chance to hide some snacks on it in advance.

So I got this creepy fucking idea. What if he eats the Quintessons?

Remember how some Quintessons are described as organic and some as robotic? And remember how in Transformers Quintessons are always trying to steal some kind of energy from Cybertron? Sometimes it’s energon, sometimes it’s spark energy, you got the idea. I’m trying to say that Quintessons are clearly compatible to Cybertronian energy sources~

So. Wouldn’t it be wonderfully fucked up if Deadlock had to hunt Quintesson robot monsters, kill them, and then drink their fuel out of their lines? Wouldn’t it be crazy gory and fun to think about hmm

Because yeah no the Earth doesn’t have any energon in it and Deadlock is crash landing there so he doesn’t have enough energon just laying around in his pockets.

#Tf mecha universe #mecha writing #mecha rl writing #ratchlock

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painted-flag · 6 months ago

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A VICTOR, part one - Commodus

𓃮 emperor commodus x fem!reader 𓃭 masterlist. part one | part two | part three 𓃮 warnings: none for this part, but future descriptions of smut and violence. 𓃭 As a longtime and loyal servant working in the underbelly of the palace, your emergence into the light catches the attention of the emperor. ✧.* This is a dedication piece to the man who started my obsession with questionable men/villains when I was younger and it only seems the right thing to do with all the hype coming back.

There was something otherworldly about Rome. You always felt it, every moment of every day, that the impermanence of such a city would continue to ring through the annals of time. It had been there long before you and would remain long after. Many of the buildings may deteriorate and the people change – coming and going like the passage of seasons – but here, in this area of the world, Rome would come to stand the test of time.

You had always been in awe of it all since you arrived as a small child. Eyes darted to every structure, every perception of movement, caught in a trance. Now, after many years, this place continued to enchant you. The lowly streets you grew up in did not last long. Your mother had caught the attention of palace organizers – her food was regarded as the best one could offer.

Since then, you have moved to staying near the palace. It's so close to court yet so far away. Each day your mother would take you to the kitchens to help her as soon as you became old enough to take the stress of the job. It worked out in your favour, eventually landing you a spot as a servant with multi-talents. Such a thing was rare, and because of that, you were always busy.

You displayed the same prowess that your mother had in the kitchens but managed to charm other experts in your youth to teach you different skills. From then on, the bowels of the palace became your sanctuary beyond the bounds of the chaotic streets of Rome. Whether it be in the kitchens, the textile rooms, or even the playrooms for the servant's children to stay in and out of the way, you were always found working.

Today, of all days, you found yourself outside of the kitchen and serving instead. Recently your chores had changed to different duties that required you to be in areas of the palace you did not grow up in. You had learned to like the shadows cast by people as they scurried about the torch-lined hallways of the underground. Now, you were above ground. Serving when necessary, cleaning as well.

You would not have minded if it was not for the piercing gaze of sharp green eyes that tended to follow you as you went about your work. At first, you had not noticed it. You were too absorbed in your duties to see the constant watch of the newly appointed Emperor.

However, you caught on quickly. Emperor Commodus would watch you intensely when you would walk into a room he happened to be in. You did not dare reciprocate. Despite growing up in the bowels of the palace, you knew all too well of the habits of men in positions of power. Similar in age, he grew up with you, yet never once had you crossed paths. It was likely due to the protectiveness of your mother.

Royal male children often became insatiable once reaching adulthood and your mother wanted to spare you from it. Yet, from what you had heard, Commodus had not the taste of princes that came before. Of course, there was still occasional trysts – you could remember a fellow servant giggling about spending a night with him. You could also remember the heartbroken look on her face as she was let go from her services and no longer permitted on the grounds the day after. That happened a few times; Commodus would take in a lover for the night and then discard them the next day as if they were a speck of dust on his feet.

It was why his heated gaze made you increasingly nervous with each passing day. Any day you could meet the same fate as those servant girls and lose the only place you remembered calling home.

You breathed in and out deeply, stabilizing the pitcher of wine in your grasp as you prepared to enter the large dining chambers. The Emperor was having dinner with some guests that night and you were tasked with serving. It was not what you wanted, having preferred to stay in the kitchens and make the food, but whatever your master Attius says is done without question.

With careful and calm steps, you pass the large opening into the room with your head humbly facing the floor. It would be an offence to raise your head and make eye contact with any of the men in that room.

Their conversation as well was no consequence to you. They were speaking of politics, of a real world outside of your own. There was no care in your life about politics. Why speak on something that does not know you, or rather women, have a capacity for things beyond what they have predetermined? Why should you give it any time of day, when it has not and will not do the same for you? Ultimately, deep down, you wanted to care enough to change something about that predicament, but you supposed you would have a better chance of fighting and killing a tiger in close combat.

You made it to the table. Custom permits you to fill the emperor's glass first and you become exceedingly nervous once near him. Never in your time there had you been so physically close to him. It would be stupid to deny his exquisite physique. Commodus had likely been crafted by the gods, as it is with the royal line. He reflected the perfect nature of the gods and their mastered ability to craft the perfect human. Now that you were close, you could smell the scent of parchment and burning wood that clung to him.

The pitcher tipped and you poured his wine. All the while you did not feel his heated gaze on you. He seemed too busy talking to the guests and them laughing as if everything he said was the most genius and original words to pass a person’s mouth. However, once you moved away and another started to talk, you could feel the shift of his eyes. It always caused your heart to race and the tiny nearly invisible strands of hair on your arms to rise. A tingle went up the back of your neck.

The emperor ignored his speaking guests to watch as you poured the wine into their cups. They continued speaking, not wanting to call out their Ceasar for his lack of manners. They acted as though they did not notice his green eyes become attached to your form. You took in another deep breath, causing your chest to rise and contract within the fabric of your tunic.

Once you were done, you made your way to exit. The walls had come to suffocate you, and each second under the green gaze of the emperor made you want to crumble and fall to the ground. A slave could not be in their presence for long. Many took offence to it. You had been taught that you go in and out quickly, acting like a fleeting shadow to quell their needs; preferably without them saying it.

At the entranceway to leave, another slave coming in to serve grabbed you forcefully on your forearm. Callias stood in front of you, a sneer on his face. You tried to pull your arm from his grasp once but knew he would not let go. He had a habit of exerting his strength over the other slave women. You noticed that as a trend from other slave men. They often put down slave women in an effort to feel a sliver of power in a world that had taken what little they had.

Pathetic, but then again you wished to feel the same way as them. Just a dash of power and a bit of control over the world would feel good.

“Master says you have taken too long to serve them,” Callias whispered, “You are to go to the kitchens and stay there for the evening.” The venom in his voice, coupled with the pain of his grip, caused you to flinch. You slowly nodded and knew that if you were to say anything it would be taken as disrespect.

Callias let go of you, nearly flinging your arm away from him as he left you to go serve the emperor and his guests. The spot he grabbed was red and you could feel the ache concentrated there. It would not bruise, but from how much it hurt that fact was not relieving. Finally, you were free and you made work of leaving. You nearly ran through the halls and down the flights of stairs to retreat back to the place you feel most comfortable.

During it all, you had not noticed the piercing gaze of Commodus as he watched the exchange transpire.

You had found yourself lost in the rhythmic motions of cleaning in the kitchens. It was soothing work once a majority of the workers had left for the evening. The silence allowed you to think as you meticulously scrubbed pots. While not your favourite chore, you scarcely trusted others to do the work well enough.

The motions of your work distracted you so much that you did not hear the pattering footsteps of someone entering the room until they cleared their throat. You turned around and saw a guard. His clothing was more refined than the lower guards and you swallowed some saliva that was in your mouth. A slight sting of anxiousness swept across your spine.

“The Caesar has summoned you.” His voice was smooth and echoed throughout the empty kitchen. Your gaze quickly swept about the space, hoping he was addressing anyone other than you. When you realized he was speaking to you, a weight settled in your gut.

“Is… is there a reason for my summons?” You questioned.

The guard did not respond, choosing to turn around and walk into the exiting corridor by a spiralling staircase. You knew there was no other option but to follow. Putting the washing cloth down, you dried your hands and followed behind the guard. He remained a few paces ahead of you as he guided you up the stairs and through the halls of the palace.

It was not as though you were oblivious to the location of the emperor’s chambers. Despite your limited time serving above ground in the palace, you still had mapped the entirety of the place when you were a child.

Fear began to grow in your heart and weigh down on your lungs. There was an inkling of hope that he summoned you for something other than the reasons he called for other ladies. Your stomach growled, aware that you had not eaten since earlier that day. In the chaos of your work, it was a frequent habit to forget food.

In a matter of minutes, you two had reached the doors to the room. He positioned himself on one side of the door, the other covered by a guard that was already there. You hesitated, unsure of what to do. The guard that fetched you grew tired of your loitering and sighed deeply before reaching for the hand and opening one of the two doors.

You took one final breath and walked into the room. You scanned the area quickly, finding a large well-decorated room in front of you. Various mosaics spanned the walls, adding a sense of grandeur to an already elevated way of living. Carved busts were on display, along with various items that looked like they came from places outside of Rome – lands far beyond that were reached by the forces of the empire. In the very centre rested a bed. Four strong quartz pillars surrounded it, with linen draperies resting as a cover over the bed.

You saw the figure of the emperor off to the side, standing with his back to you and facing a table lined with various foods. Fruits, nuts, meats, and baked goods you could recognize as having been made by you only a few short hours ago. He had already eaten recently – a grand feast with guests – yet already had more food lined up for him. That feeling in your stomach of both anxiousness and hunger screamed for a reprieve.

He shifted to face you and your gaze quickly moved to the floor as a sign of respect. You held your breath, unsure of why he wanted you here. Was your service that evening awful? Had he lost care for the food you made and have fallen into disfavour with him? Or, were you going to end up like those other girls before, used and thrown out?

“Look at me,” His voice was like honey, a sweet tang with a rich coat. You slowly raised your head and made contact with the sharp and deep sea green of his eyes. They reminded you of the foam that would wash up on the shores of your old home before coming to Rome. In a strange sense, it was familiar, which unsettled you more than it should have.

“Wine?” Commodus gestured to a pitcher next to him and two spare cups. Your eyebrows furrowed as you scanned the gold-lined chalices. He let out a low hum as he awaited an answer.

“Caesar, I don’t entirely understand…” You trailed off.

“I thought as much,” He proceeded to pour wine into both of the chalices while you stood there in confusion. His figure was dominating and he had a manner that held control of the space. When he finished pouring both drinks, he turned back around and approached you. He held out the cup, but all you did was stare. It was incredibly unsettling to witness someone ranked so high above you serve not only themself but someone else of lower status.

“Well?” He moved the cup closer to you, his manner mostly amused, but underlined with a growing annoyance.

“Th- thank you, Caesar.” You took the cup from him. Commodus’ fingers brushed against yours, warm but calloused. He hummed again and took a sip from his cup. You held yours, staring into the clear liquid. White wine, reserved only for elites. You had never even come near it in your life save a few times to serve it. Now that he was closer to you, the familiar scent of parchment and burning wood surrounded you.

His eyes scanned over your body for a moment as a short silence fell over. Moving almost hesitantly, he used his free hand to reach up and brush the red mark on your forearm. You flinched, both by his touch and the slight pain it elicited.

“That servant, the one who grabbed you, why did he do such a thing?” Commodus stepped back and moved towards the table full of food. He plucked a grape from a vine and plopped it in his mouth, an action that surprisingly caused a stirring in your lower stomach.

“My master thought I lingered too long, Caesar,” Your answers were kept short, hoping that there was a way out of this. You still had no clue as to why you were summoned.

“Lingered too long,” He repeated it as though mocking, but not towards you, “What a ridiculous notion. You are too pleasing to be a blight.”

“I-” The words got caught in your throat. In one breath, he had insulted your master and then complimented you. You shifted the weight on your feet and decided to take a large gulp of wine, sweet with floral undertones. “Thank you, Caesar.”

He made his way to his bed, climbing the two steps of the marble platform it was placed on and sat on the edge of it. Commodus was watching you as you stood there, still as a statue busts that littered the room and unsure of yourself.

“There is something you wish to say. I can see it.” His words echoed through the room and reverberated through your bones. You ran your tongue over your teeth, tasting the sweet wine once more.

“Is there a reason for my summons, Caesar?” You questioned. Commodus looked down at his cup and used his index finger to trace the edge. He appeared almost… lost for an explanation.

“Your mother had been one of the cooks, the best as I remember. I’ve heard you have taken that place.” It was an obvious means of deflection, but you knew not to rebuke it. You were also unsure of how he knew so much about you. Did he inquire into your past before summoning you? Had you done something wrong?

“Yes, Caesar, I have been lucky to assume the position.” You answered.

He surveyed you once more as if it was a personal struggle to look away. Not that it was anything unusual – Commodus always looked when you entered a room. That was likely the deciding factor in inviting you to his rooms after weeks of watching you.

“Have you eaten?” He asked.

“I… have not,” Your hold on the cup got stronger and warmed up the surface.

“Eat,” He motioned with his cup towards the table full of food. You approached slowly, unsure of what to make of all this. It felt like a trap, it had to be a trap. The kindness he was displaying likely followed with a payment. You would have to repay him for this, and what better way would be your virtue? But surely the emperor did not need to bribe women, so what was really going on?

You reached out for a dried fig and ate it. Your stomach had been aching for a few hours and suddenly the onslaught of it all overcame you. The food in front of you was already beautiful, but it intrigued you even more. Commodus was not watching, but instead sat still and looked at his cup in deep thought.

Silently, you ate. It was only for a few minutes, but the deep satisfaction of a full stomach was not something you were well acquainted with. After you were finished, you set your cup down that was now empty. The sound was sharp and caused Commodus to raise his head. You were still unsure of meeting his eyes. They were so intense that they would knock the air from your chest and cause your head to spin. That was not what you wished to experience.

“Do you like your work?” His question was sudden and caught you off guard. It seemed that all Commodus was able to do was constantly surprise you with his demeanour. He was not like he seemed and you did not know whether that was dangerous or not. Unpredictability was unreliable.

“I am honoured to serve the empire in any capacity,” Your words, rehearsed and polished, seemed enough to satisfy him. Commodus placed his cup down on a small bedside table and fell back onto the plush covers. He let out a sigh before adjusting and moving to the other side of the bed.

“Come here,” He beckoned you over. Your brain started to conjure up scenarios, all of which would end up with you unsullied and out of work. However, you were surprised to see Commodus lying with his eyes closed. He patted the free spot next to him for you to sit.

Slowly and unsure, you felt the bed dip where you sat and rested your back against the headboard. He kept his eyes closed, content with your compliance.

“Sing for me.” He requested.

“Excuse me, Caesar?” You asked. He opened both of his eyes, looking up at you through heavy lids. The space between you two was small and your heartbeat increased at that.

“I know you can sing, I remember hearing it at the Cerealia festival. Sing for me.” He was staring at you expectantly.

In your memories, you could briefly remember singing during that festival when you were a girl of ten – only a few years younger than the emperor. It was your first time singing in front of a large group of people. It had been a celebration in one of the gardens amongst some of the other slaves, but Commodus’ words led you to believe it was not just the slaves watching.

A deep blush settled across your face. While you often occupied your time doing chores through humming and singing, it was not something you wished to do in front of others. The only reason why you sang at that festival was because your mother had wanted you to. However, no amount of excuses could ever be used to deny the emperor, so you took a deep breath to calm your nerves and began to hum a sweet tune.

The sound carried through the air of the large room. Gradually, your humming turned into light singing. Over that time, Commodus had shifted closer, now only a finger width of space separated you two. One of his hands reached out to touch your forearm that rested by your side, brushing against the fading red mark. His fingers glided up your skin, raising the hairs there. The thumping in your chest increased.

Quietly, as if not to disturb you, he spoke, “The slave that hurt you, what is his name?”

“Callias,” You answered. Commodus hummed and closed his eyes again, nuzzling his head back into the pillows. He settled down but did not remove his hand from your arm.

“Keep singing.” He mumbled into the pillow.

On his orders, you continued the song you had been singing before he interrupted. A warm breeze came in from the open balcony doors, reminding you of the heat of summer. Everything felt like an odd dream. This outcome did not even come across your mode of thinking when you were escorted to his room, but you were thankful it ended up this way. He had not tried to seduce you or even force himself on you when that failed.

It seemed he only wished for company. You could not help but wonder if your performance so many years ago stayed with him. It was a stupid thought, silly even, to think that young him would have heard a slave girl singing and remembered. It was likely that you were simply sent up more often in recent weeks and had come to his attention.

At the very least, that was what you tried to assure yourself as the emperor fell asleep next to you. You were not sure what you should do but decided to stay and continue singing. You did so until the stars came out and sleep slowly took over your body.

In the haze of sleep, you could still feel the warmth of his hand on your arm.

(I am ignoring my archaeology degree to write this. Like Ridley Scott, inaccuracy is my best friend.)

(Also, no beta reader, just my manic thoughts.)

☾⋆⁺₊✧ If you want to be added to the taglist, click here!

#emperor commodus #gladiator #commodus imagine #commodus fanfic #commodus fanfiction #joaquin phoenix #commodus x reader #commodus x you #gladiator 2000

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sandraharissa · 6 months ago

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s2 intro was so fire. and I thought like s1 it showed/hinted at the things that would happen during this season. but most stuff didn't happen or it didn't live up to the imagery used in the intro

Vi smudging the VI tattoo. it implies that she would struggle with her identity and the name connected with it and the legacy connected with it, like Jinx did in s1. maybe this could even be her going so far as to reject the name itself, like denying that she's The Vi to keep a low profile. like how Jinx would insist that she's not Powder in s1. but none of that ever happened. Vi never struggles with 'being Vi' or what it means to her or with being Vander's prodigy even tho he's brought back from the dead.

this shot implying that this was gonna be a story about the sisters, but also that Jinx is Vi's burden or her shadow or a demon on her shoulder. but to explore Vi's feelings on her sister and what she's become they'd have to try to explore Vi at all

this shot which implies to me 'Jinx being Jinx' cos it's a callback to when she does the finger gun in s1, but even more so to when she does it as a kid in the Enemy MV. in the scene she, when she still went by Powder, aims a finger gun at enforcers and as she pretend fires at them it flashes to Jinx standing there. so a 'Jinx was always Jinx' message. but it also alludes to her having a target like the firelight in s1 or the enforcers in the MV, who she always hated.

the two times we see Ekko he reverses time, which ig he technically does but the meat of his story is him going to a parallel universe, not going back in time. idk ig I thought that time travel would be more relevant to Ekko's story than parallel universe travel. in the end time travel is only meaningfully used for the timebomb angst scene even tho it's not really necessary there. ig I thought the powers would be more relevant to Ekko's whole character and arc. in an Ekko lol short he reverses time to defeat the bad guy and when he finally succeeds it's at the cost of the destruction of the mural for dead kids, and so he goes back in time again. that's more meaningful than anything they did with firelights in s2 (and arguably more meaningful than the timebomb scene). why did they drop the sick tree plotline? the firelights? his past with Jinx? his involvement in the revolution? the past vs present and saving the things we love? I swear they were teasing me with an epic time travel episode but delivered a parallel universe (derogatory) episode.

this type of shots made me think that Cait would actually struggle internally to an extreme degree with her actions and how the power corrupts her etc. that she'd become horrified of what she's become. and how she'd hate and struggle with maintaining her appearances to the public.

the first shot made it seem like, just like Cait, Jayce would struggle with public attention and maybe scrutiny, considering he was the head of the council in s1. but then the first thing he does this season is resign and that's that for him being a public persona and struggling with his reputation even tho s1 and his lol lore focus on that. like that stuff's so juicy don't get rid of that.

the second shot hints to me at him discovering smth grand/important connected to the arcane, which ig kinda happened but what it ended up being is that Jayce got transported to a bad universe and learned that arcane bad. meanwhile this shot evokes to me smth more awe-inspiring, idk like smth mystical and magical, arcane, you could say. with white bright light often being used in media to communicate divinity. wild runes mumbo jumbo and Jayce being transported to a bad arcane universe seem so pedestrian compared to like, heavenly lights ig.

both concepts for Jayce's story that were introduced in the intro and the eps delivered on neither.

I don't remember the french revolution ending with the ppl teaming up with the royalty. I also don't get the impression that there are any french revolution stories out there with the hero thinking the revolution is an irritating nuisance. this parallel is so extremely unwarranted and borderline offensive.

Viktor did turn out to be evil and he did get a cult as this shot implied but the mask obvs references his lol mech suit that he never gets. there was no reason for him to be designed the way he was, as an arcane deity with specifically a mask, outside of for the purpose of having the faintest similarity to his lol design. the mask, the cult, all that third arm imagery in s1? it all references his lol lore, for nothing, cos they took his character in a drastically different direction. talk about blue balls. and same thing with the light as with Jayce, the light coming from the mask implies Revelations connected to the mask but also loss of identity/being consumed by it. maybe a glorious evolution? idk it again just feels like someone knew what the fans wanted but it wasn't the writers. but someone still put all this in the intro. teasing a better story that we'll never get to see.

there's also all the Black Rose imagery that seemed important even tho they weren't in the end. it being connected to Mel (politician) and Ambessa (politician/warrior) made me think that they would focus on the Black Rose being a political organization that wants smth connected to Piltover and the PnZ conflict, with all the imagery of holding the rose/squishing the rose/being the rose/picking up the rose alluding to the political scheming between Ambessa/Mel/the Black Rose. but they went the route of out of nowhere making Mel magic. imagine if in a random ep of s1 they made Silco magic.

why? why why why why why?

the intro did more for all the character arcs than the episodes themselves

#vi #jinx #ekko #caitlyn kiramman #jayce talis #jayce #viktor #mel medarda #ambessa medarda #arcane #my:arcane #arcane s2 #arcane critical #vi arcane #jinx arcane #ekko arcane #viktor arcane

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jaegerbby · 2 years ago

Text

➳ my soul searches

--͙[naoya zenin x female! reader]-͙-

╰┈➤ word count; 6512

╰┈➤ rundown; you might be ignorant about anything concerning naoya zenin but somehow he knows everything about you.

╰┈➤ caution; mean! naoya, DUBIOUS CONSENT, virginity loss (mentions of blood), dacryphilia, unprotected sex, creampie, no prep, choking, use of the words slut, whore, bitch (degradation), MISOGYNISTIC ideologies mentioned, manhandling, 1 thigh smack, cum eating, cunnilingus, fellatio (head pushing & rough), belly bulge, throat bulge, size kink, mentions of fingering, hair is referred to as 'cascading' on one occasion. sex on a futon (just so it won't be confusing).

if there are any more warnings i should add please let me know. not proof read!

naoya is awful.

he is a horrible man.

everyone knows it.

whether it be due to the countless stories everyone gossips about or witnessing firsthand the vicious things he does.

you were privy to outrageous hearsay spreading but you did not care enough to understand.

as far as you know, he is a powerful man.

and in your clan, you bow down to powerful men.

you have been fed lies that you do not have much to offer.

women were responsible for wifely duties and child bearing.

it is all you learned your entire life.

you are surprised when there is news of a member of the zenin clan's impending visitation. the people within your district make countless preparations and take any precaution necessary to ensure they meet naoya's standard. the last thing they want is to face his acrimony.

there are rumours of a potential alliance and it seems exceedingly promising to be closely associated with such a powerful family.

the day of his arrival, everything looks auspicious. you are shocked at the innumerable women adorned in luxurious clothing and decked in lavish jewellery.

you certainly do not understand all the fuss about him. you swore everyone hated him.

the welcome is extravagant and curiosity gets the best of you because you find yourself tip toeing to catch sight of him.

he is definitely not what you expected. he is young, his expression is all too smug. you never had the opportunity to see him before but he is gorgeous. in every sense of the word.

he is the definition of it.

sharp narrow eyes were lined, push pink lips with a barely visible cupid's bow and a straight nose although the tip was slightly upturned. his brows were thin and straight. if anyone looked for long enough and he smiled you could see the indents of dimples. he was truly pretty.

naoya tells the head of your clan that an alliance will only be formed provided he receives something. that whatever he wishes must be granted to him for congruity in return.

somehow, someway he pinpoints you in a crowd of too many people.

you were astonished when his stony eyes found yours. you try to tell yourself, you are not the one. it must be someone else. it has to be! you are proven wrong when your mother grips your arm and drags you up to him.

she bows, her hand roughly shoving your head down while you fidget. his stare is heavy, it makes you want to hide away. your parents practically offer you to him on a silver platter.

your eyes look everywhere but at him while he requests a room. unabashedly he speaks for everyone to witness.

his fingers find your chin, tipping your head back to look over your face. he towers over you. "dress her up." his voice is raspy and deep. he speaks to your mother though he does not spare her a glance.

you are speechless, you can only imagine what it means. an uncontrollable amount of thoughts pile into your head as your mother takes you away.

virginity means everything to a young girl like you. you need to be one to get married. it is your clan's way of life so why do your parents not care? your mother dresses you in the finest silk, something they could never afford before. she knots your hair in a bun and it hurts when she pulls at the strands.

decorative pins are stuck into your hair, some nicking your scalp. she drapes a heavy chain around your neck and squeezes your hand as she forces bracelets onto your wrists.

you look just like every other woman that dolled up for naoya zenin in anticipation of his attention.

you realise your parents do not care for your dignity as they usher you into an intricately decorated room.

they crave the validation of everyone else more than they care about you. you always knew that but you never thought they would go to this extent.

"be good and listen to everything he says." your mom commands. she shoves you to your knees on the thick layers of satin.

"this is for everyone's betterment." your father adds like it would make any of this right. you have no choice in the matter.

they were giving you up for naoya to do whatever he pleased because they were greedy for admiration.

you worry what it meant for you afterwards. you worry what people would think once you left these four walls.

the door slams shut upon their exit, you nervously shift. you wonder if you could run away. the weight of the jewellery feels uncomfortable, the clothes are so thick you swear you are sweating. they seem impossible to do anything in.

it feels like an eternity when naoya enters. his broad back faces you as he closes the door. his presence is intimidating, his aura is immense.

you swallow hard.

you are only to speak when spoken to.

yet you want to ask what took him so long.

why did you chose me?

what are you going to do to me?

you cannot question him. that is not your place.

you are sitting, hands anxiously twitching where they rest on your thighs. your eyes drop to the floor as he faces you.

he draws closer, your breathing stops as he circles you. he does it slowly, intently like he wants to memorise you from every angle.

you feel like prey, you are awaiting your predator to strike. there is absolutely no escape. his gaze sears into your being.

in a way he is scary. "strip." his deep voice instructs. your body tenses, breathing more laboured. you are unmoving as he steps closer. he cups your head, it is softer than you expected. he tilts you back to look at him, you are made aware of his bulge right in front of your face.

it is when he grips your hair, disheveling your bun that you realise it is all pretence. you shriek as he forcefully lifts you to your knees. the way you reach for his hand is futile because you cannot stop him no matter how hard you try.

"don't make me speak twice, y/n." you wonder how he knew your name. you were no one. you were not anyone important to this clan or world. "now take your fucking clothes off before i do it myself."

he shoves you back, you just barely brace yourself. his nimble fingers reach for the laces on his robe as he undoes them with ease. tears prick your eyes, you shakily tug at your bracelets. your movements are frantic enough to send them scattered across the floor. you rip the necklace from your throat, it stings where it nicks your skin.

your hands endlessly tremble when you pull off the layers of heavy fabric draped on you. you are too busy removing your clothing to see that he is already bare.

once you are rid of anything that preserves your modesty, you fold your arms to hide your body. a man has never seen you like this and you never thought the first time would be under this circumstance.

naoya's eyes trail over you, he is already hard. it is borderline painful. he was hard from simply thinking about you obediently waiting for him.

you feel his presence behind you, he lowers himself to his knees. his hands reach for your shoulders first. they are large and rough, they elicit goosebumps across your skin as he trails them down to caress your arms.

he pulls you into him, the hardness of his chest meeting your back. his arms surround your body and you tense at the feeling of his heated cock brushing your skin. his dexterous fingers remove the pins from your hair, he undoes the bun to allow the strands to cascade down your back. he brushes it over your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your nape.

you are shocked by the softness of them. he trails more kisses down the upper part of your spine. it is mind muddling.

"i can tell you haven't fucked before." you jolt at the sound of his gruff voice. his warm breath meets your skin and you shiver. his forearm comes around your front to keep you flush against him.

"spread your legs, let me see your cunt." he speaks without any shame. you hesitate and his displeasure is evident because his palm connects with the flesh of your thigh so hard that you shriek. your skin stings.

you have no choice but to open your legs for him. he slips his hands between them, his wide palm cupping your cunt.

you cannot breathe. it is all so overwhelming. you notice the evident veins on his lower arm as his hand covers your sex completely. it dawns on you that you have never had this intimacy before. you have never even touched where he would be.

he clicks his tongue, his presence makes you anxious. everything he does makes you tense.

he grimaces, you are not wet. not in the slightest.

naoya removes his hand to spit into his fingers, the fluid is pressed to your clit as he strokes it. he does not like the way you bite down on your lip to muffle your sounds. he hates it.

he rolls the bundle of nerves, pinching it before he slowly trails his fingers down your slit. the tip of his finger prods your entrance, gliding along it though he does not enter.

your smaller hands grip his forearm and for some reason it makes him hug your body tighter.

you breathe shakily in anticipation of his next move. it is a foreign feeling to be caressed but you can hardly complain. it is the furthest thing from unpleasant. it annoys you how good it feels.

"i'm shoving my cock in here." he huffs. the length of his finger coaxing through your lips has you writhing.

"going to stick my dick in this little hole and make you my bitch." his words are vulgar. the obscenity of his remarks have you furrowing your brows.

"it sounds good, right? having your pussy filled to the brim. i'll even fuck my cum into you." his jaw presses into your temple and you unsurely blink. he is so big, you feel like you are tucked into him.

he pinches your clit and you choose to focus on that rather than what he is saying. it feels good, enough to make you squirm. each time he does it, your cunt leaks with liquid. his entire palm strokes up and down, smearing sticky liquid over your cunt.

"naoya." you mewl. he has you spread open on his lap as he strokes your dripping pussy. he knows one thing for certain, your pretty voice forming his name is the greatest thing he has ever heard. he loves the sounds you make because of him.

you are so wet now, you are drenched and leaking. the sticky liquid trails out of your slit endlessly. his fingers steadily collect it and your lips part when he pulls away. your eyes follow his hand as he brings the sodden liquid digits near his mouth.

it is dirty. it is gross, it must be. somehow, you find yourself entranced. his tongue slips out to lave over his drenched palm.

"so fucking messy." he grits his teeth, he tilts his head to you. his wet hand grips your jaw, "you always taste so good." he presses his mouths to yours.

you can taste yourself on his lips and tongue as he aggressively kisses you. despite your inexperience you try to replicate him.

his expression looks irritated as he wetly separates from you. he forces you onto your back, leaning over you. his eyes glimpse at your cunt and they trail up your body.

you are on display for his prying eyes. he gropes your breasts, kissing and licking down your sternum. you are delirious as he sucks on your skin. he kisses all the way up to your jaw before he covers your mouth with his.

he licks into your mouth until you are a breathless mess.

"i'm not prepping you. m'not." he squeezes your jaw. "the first thing i'm stuffing in your pussy is my cock and it's gonna hurt. it'll hurt a lot but you deserve it." he airily speaks, his eyes dark.

you stare in confusion, panic sets in your chest. what wrong did you do? you wonder what warranted having your virginity stripped with no compassion.

you were more than aware he did not care for you.

as far as you know, you are suppose to pride yourself in your virginity. you were to save it for your husband and no one else. the man between your legs is a stranger, the man telling you such nasty things is nothing to you.

you swallow hard as you stare at his intimidating size. the head of his cock is purplish and dripping pre cum. his shaft is thick and it seems to go on forever. you wonder how it is suppose to fit inside you.

naoya grasps his aching cock to tap the head on your clit. you try to move away, you really do but he is so strong. he is completely unmoving. he coats his tip in your slick before pressing into your hole.

despite how tight you are, despite how big and thick he is. you shove at his abdomen, his abs flexing under your palms. "naoya please." tears stream down your cheeks but he relents. he cups your thighs to bring them over his and spread you open.

his rough fingers find your perked clit, rubbing it in aggressive circles. you hate to admit it but it feels too good. your hands clamp down on your mouth to mute the moans escaping you.

you gush on him with no fanfare. this entire circumstance makes you feel like an easy slut. he presses more into you, reaching the ridge where his cock and shaft meet. your legs jolt the further his girth fills you.

your insides squeeze and clamp down trying to deny his intrusion, you make naoya crazy. "fucking stop." he hisses. you are like a vice around his pulsing cock.

he says what you should be saying. you should be telling him to stop but you do not. you should be screaming and crying, telling him to get off of you but that is the last thing in your head.

it feels good. more of him is pressed into you and your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. it is an unfamiliar feeling but the pressure in your abdomen is more pleasurable than painful. you find yourself adjusting, you are still so tight that naoya loses his mind.

he presses down on your clit an inch accompanying the motion and you shriek at the feeling. he continually rocks his hips, slowly coaxing over your bundle of nerves. your hands find purchase in the sheets, panting while you try to gather your bearings.

the stimulation has you fidgeting, it has you moaning his name endlessly. your thighs tremble on either side of him and your expression is contorted at the feeling. he looks down at your body, tongue slipping out to coat his lips and you find yourself wishing it was in your mouth, on your skin. anywhere you wanted him.

he leans down, his muscles rippling and the flesh along his abs bunching in little rolls, his biceps are almost as big as your head. you feel like he was strong enough to lift you with one finger. he seemed that way, strong and mighty in all that he did.

his hips shallowly move to thrust the portion of his length he has managed to shove into you. "you're fucking me." you stutter, your voice barely audible. you have never spoken those words, have never even conjured them up.

naoya's eyes flash, his large hand spanning over your stomach, trailing between your breasts and then gripping your throat. "m'not. but i can, i can fuck you so deep you feel it here." he squeezes the sides of your neck, eyes glancing to your leaking cunt that soaks him even though he has not gotten to the hilt.

the warmth and tightness of you makes him ache to have his entire cock deep in your pussy but you are little and you are looking at him with the sweetest eyes.

he wants to hurt you, he wants to make you cry but you are so adorable. "i can fuck you and have your belly bulging every. single. time. i shove my cock in your dripping cunt."

you have never had someone speak to you like that. you never heard those words strung together nor spoken in such a depraved tone.

you wonder how he could be this handsome. you wonder what led him here, with you.

"i'll make this pussy mine whether you want it or not but you want it, don't you? you want me to fuck you, you want me to have you shaped to my cock and mine alone" he pants. you nod your head, you swear there is cotton between your ears, there is empty space perhaps but there is surely not a working brain.

not after he painted such an image of him fucking you like you were his and turned it to mush. "say it. say it all, say you want naoya zenin to fuck you." you whine, he squeezes your throat, his grip so strong you swore he could crush it to dust.

you whine and babble and your hips move to get more of the stimulation as he shallowly fucks you. your hands find his broad shoulders, just barely gripping them and he leans down. no you could never move someone like him, he let you. he conceded because it is you.

his face is so close, he is composed and collected while you are a mess beneath him. "i want naoya zenin to fuck me" your voice is broken by a moan as he forces more of himself into you.

you whine in his face "i want him to claim me, break me. i only want him in my cunt." your voice is a warbled mess and for some reason naoya did not expect you to be so nasty. to tell him those things. claiming you is one thing but breaking you?

he would do more than break you. he would wreck every inch of you, destroy and decimate it all, there would be no way to return you to what you were.

"then loosen up, slut." you cannot mute the scream that escapes you when the thickness of his girth is pushed entirely into your walls. your legs desperately hook on his hips, so tense they feel sore.

it burns, it hurts and stings but it feels unbelievably good, it did not feel like something you could fathom in a real world only in fantasy.

why, why, why? why does it feel so good? you had no expectations of sex. absolutely none.

when the women spoke they did not entertain such topics. was this what they did behind closed doors? did such depravity remain hidden while they portrayed themselves as saints?

he is so hot, you feel him everywhere. he is nestled inside you like he belongs there, he throbs into your gummy walls.

his large palm graces your tummy, gliding to your lower abdomen. he presses down and you sigh in unison. your eyes wildly look down. "look where my cock is in you, you really are too small to take it."

he is not your husband, he should not have stuffed his cock all the way inside you that his head impresses in your stomach. what right did he have to lay claim?

it does not matter, not anymore. he has your cunt wrapped around him and your body does not protest. no, your body welcomes him with endless slick. it yearns and begs for him. it felt like you were just waiting for him to come and take you.

he pulls out until only his leaking head is enclosed by your cunt. his expression is pleased at the sight of red streaks along him. "got your blood all over my cock. y'know what that means?"

your head is too empty to hear, to function. you cannot quite make out his words but the sound of his voice makes you mewl. you are soaking him again and again.

"means you're all mine." you eyes roll as he shallowly pumps into you. you swear you cannot see beyond him.

his hands grope the perimeter of your waist. "i haven't even fucked you yet and you already look like a brain dead whore." he coos but his eyes are dark.

he is caught up in the sight of your dripping slit stretched around the girth of his cock. his strong thighs flex, you shriek when he starts pounding into you.

naoya bullies his cock into your pussy that will not stop pulsing around him. you are so tight he sees stars. your insides are gooey and warm. he wants to be wrapped in you forever.

his abs strain, his cock is coated in your juices. slick strands are covering him. the more he slams into you the nastier sounds your pussy makes.

"shouldn't be this tight or feel this good." he huffs, he uses your body like a sex doll. he holds you down and thrusts into you so hard your skin stings. every loud collision of his flesh with yours hurts.

"you're my slut, fuck, you're the only bitch i want." your entire body shakes with the weigh of his movements. your eyes water and you fist the soaked sheets.

naoya looks too good above you. the sweat on his forehead dampens his hair and his muscles shift every time he sinks back inside you.

you are delirious, he did as he said he would, he makes your stomach bulge over and over again. he turns your brain into useless chum.

your cunt sputters liquid, his movements are flurried and aggressive. your sex loudly squelches. you never thought it would feel this good.

every vein on his cock slides along your gummy insides, you feel like you are about to pass out. "a whore like you doesn't deserve to cum but i need to feel you gripping me. i need to know how tight your pussy gets when you're cumming." his fingers find your buzzing clit.

"m'not a whore."

"you're getting fucked like one."

all you can focus on is him, he rolls your clit with experience. a part of you hates that despite him being nothing to you. your vision is blurred by tears but blinking them away allows you to see him.

his body seems like a sculpture. every muscle is evident for prying eyes. beads of sweat leak down his temple and his jaw is locked. he looks unreal. you wish he was yours although you do not know him. you have no relation but he is stretching out your cunt and making it his.

your hand grips his, head thrown back as you writhe on the sheets. you breathe in exasperation as his much larger fingers intertwine with yours. he is holding your hand. he is holding it while he pummels your insides.

you are too sensitive and too overwhelmed. when you cum, your entire body trembles. your eyes squeeze tightly and you clamp down on him like a vice. you cream on his cock your entire body coated in sweat while you shake.

the sight of you throws him over the edge.

"shit, fuck, no one is as good as you. no one." he grits his teeth, eyes fluttering. his length is soaked in you, strands coating him and the harder he pounds the more frothy cream collects at his base.

"want you like this forever." his body covers you completely. his arms wrap around your waist to hold you tight to him. all his weight is pressed into you, desperately thrusting his hips as he chases his release.

despite how you whine and cry at the excessive stimulation. your nails digging into his flesh and scratching lines down his skin.

you seem to mark another area of his back every time he pounds into you.

his movements have your body jerking and his muscles flexing. your cunt feels like it is forcefully drawing the orgasm from him, his teeth grit and his eyes flicker as they threaten to roll back.

he is so powerful but right now he looks like he is losing it. his mouth roughly presses into yours, his tongue and spit in excess and his hips stutter for a moment before he slams into you so hard your cunt squelches.

his hips rock as he stays flush to you and for the first time you are getting filled up. it is even hotter than his cock, it sears along your walls, endlessly pouring and leaking as he grows soft.

"you take it so well for a virgin." he pants before his lips claim yours in a nasty kiss.

he says that like he has not already stripped that title from you.

his weight crushes you beneath him but somehow it is comforting. somehow you like it. you like that there is no space between you and him.

your arms reach around his neck, tears streaked down your cheeks while your mouth desperately returns his kiss.

he briefly parts before leaning back in. it is unfair that he has everything. he is too pretty and he seems to be good at everything.

you whine when he sits up on his knees, your hands losing their grip on his muscles. his eyes train where his cock still fills you.

you wince while he slowly pulls out, the cum still dripping out of you. you feel empty without him.

he takes in the cum leaking from your used cunt. all he can think about is doing it again and again. without tire or care. a surprisingly gentle touch swipes your hair from your face before he strokes your cheek and leans down.

his soft lips though swollen softly move along yours. he breathes a bit more laboured as his hands touch and squeeze along your body and his kisses make their way from your neck to your sternum and tits.

you are panting while he trails open mouthed kisses on your skin. his eyes do not leave yours and they are so golden you swear they glow.

your body grows tense when he drifts lower than your belly and suddenly he is kissing right above your cum filled slit and your inner thighs.

"you're so soft." you did not expect it. was that a good thing? his breath is so close to your pussy, it is weird to think he was just inside you.

you squeal, a hand covering your mouth as his tongue swipes over your cunt. "naoya, that's dirty." your voice is muffled beneath your palm, all he does is clamp his mouth on your clit and suck.

laughing into your cunt before his tongue is gliding up and down your slit endlessly.

a man of his calibre was between your legs with his mouth in such a place. it did not make sense. his heated muscle slips into your pussy, saliva coating you in excess.

your feet lift onto the tip of your toes while you moan. you moan for naoya like you were made for it, made for him.

his fingers gently caress the back of your thighs, all while he sloppily sucks up your messy cunt.

he does not want to stop, his cum is inside of you, it is in your pussy.

he came there. he came within your silky walls and he will never stop thinking about it, about you. he pulls back, licking his lips and nipping the flesh of your thigh before trailing his tongue along your slit.

his cum is still seeping out despite the amount he lapped up from your hole. there are sticky strands of liquid on his jaw and mouth as he brings his face to yours

"it's not dirty. what's filthy, is that you let me fuck you like a cock hungry slut." his large palms grasp your tits while you are speechless.

"is that what you are, my cockslut?" you find yourself nodding your head, whimpering in agreement.

you just want to be something to him.

his thumb strokes over your lips while he grips your face, you are so much smaller his entire hand seems to hold it. "you think you can suck me off? get me nice and wet in that little mouth and make me cum?"

you stare up at him with the prettiest wide eyes. you were crying for so long. you cry so much it makes him hard. "i can." you softly whisper and naoya cannot help but kiss you sweetly.

he nips your lips, laving his tongue over them before he sits next to you.

you swallow, he helps you up by a firm grip on your upper arm. your head feels light.

you are surprised when his hand cups the back of your head and shoves down. his erect cock presses against your cheek. "c'mon, don't waste time."

your hand unsurely surrounds the base, you cannot believe something like this had managed to fit inside you. naoya sighs at the softness. your tongue clumsily laps at his slit, the taste of his cum and your juices filling your mouth.

your lips enclose just before his shaft, your mouth insanely warm it makes naoya pant. "take more of it, i don't fucking care if it's your first time." he gruffly says. you are perched on your knees with his cock in your mouth.

moments before you had never seen one in your life.

you are so unsure, you lower on him but the second his tip brushes the back of your throat you gag. you lurch, the muscles constricting around him.

you pull back frantically, coughing as you clutch your throat. naoya finds your eyes more teary. "so fuckin dramatic." he tuts.

his tip presses against the seam of your lips and you have no choice but to open up.

you really do try to be good. you try your hardest to take more but it seems never ending. you gag so much desperately trying to get him seated deep in your throat. but you can't.

that tight little throat of yours can hardly get even half of him in on your own.

"you're shit at this." he laughs airily. you are drooling so much it is insanely messy, he never had it like this before.

every bit of him says to bruise the back of your throat, to fist your hair and fuck into your mouth so that every inch of him feels the silky walls of your throat.

he listens.

at first, his fingers gently caress through your hair. it lasts for a second before he is pushing your head down. your throat constricts and he shudders. he cannot tell which liquid that drips onto his skin is your spit or tears.

he is vicious and rough. constantly bobbing your head along his cock regardless of how you choke. the sloppy noises are all he needs to get there. the feeling of your gooey throat objecting his forceful intrusion. your muscles resisting. "fuck you're such a good bitch. little baby throat s'taking it all."

his body tenses, hips stuttering to fuck into your mouth. he does not usually come this fast. he shoves you down until your lips surround his base. he swears he can see your throat bulging from his cock. your hot sticky saliva drip all over him as he shallowly ruts his hips.

naoya grits his teeth, moaning loudly before he spews cum down your throat. you jerk in confusion but he does not release you. your hands scramble. he feels you swallowing around him but it is not enough.

liquid spills past the perimeter of his cock.

he tugs you off, your mouth wetly separating with a sticky pop.

"you look pretty like this." your hair is knotted, tear streaks coat your cheeks, your lips are swollen from sucking his dick and his cum is spewed in your mouth in a sticky web. it drips down your jaw but he still kisses you.

still does it all sweetly and cups your cheeks as if he is a nice man.

you eagerly accept it. you kiss and kiss and his salty cum is messily exchanged. you are a breathless mess when he pulls away with spit still connecting you.

"so stupid." he shoves your forehead with his forefinger. you want to cry. he leaves you sitting while he lies on the sodden sheets.

it hurts to hear. you sniffle, looking at him. you let all this happen. you slept with him. this is not some lucid sex dream, it really occurred. he came in you, he touched you everywhere.

he had you in way a man never did before.

you are crying for a different reason now. when the lust that clouded your brain finally dispels you realise everything is ruined.

"do you have any idea what you've done?" tears are profusely coating your cheeks, you tug the blanket to your chest.

you are hiding your body as though he has not violated every inch of it. as if his desecration has not tainted you in the form of bruises and cum.

naoya breathes, his eyes rolling as he folds his arms under his head. "i fucked a bitch, s'all."

your face contorts in more pain. this was never supposed to be your life. you meant nothing to the man who was just inside you.

you were nothing to him. "i can't get married now."

naoya looks angry. the muscles in his arms flex, eyes flitting over to you.

in a second he sits up, the expanse of his palm covers your throat. it draws a sound of shock from you. his face is all too close and you wince at the flashes of him fucking you as they are forced into your mind.

how can you forget it? especially when he is at this proximity, when his hands were all over your body and now he simply held your neck.

his gaze flits downwards, he is angry without a doubt. it is hard to not see it when his skin is flushed red and his jaw is locked.

he rips the sheet from your body before he roughly shakes you.

your eyes flash in panic as you grip his tightening hand. "you have me and you want to marry some lowlife prick from your shitty clan?" he hisses into your face, his nose brushing yours over the nonexistent distance.

you gasp for air because he holds too tight. "you weren't a good fuck. not at all." his hand slips between your legs to cup your cum filled cunt and you blanch.

"you're just a prissy little virgin but you're pretty. i'll give it to you, you're gorgeous." without any warning his digits slide inside of you.

it is forceful and rough as he repeatedly thrusts his long fingers into the soaked walls of your pussy. you grit your teeth. it should not feel good. it should not but you cannot help the uninhibited movement of your hips.

your legs practically part for him on instinct despite how badly you want him to get away from you. that is what you want, right?

you should not want him and your eyes that are trailing all over his defined muscles should be looking to the heavens for some hope.

they should not be gleaming at his pretty features or his damp hair. "and you'll be one hell of a bitch but you gotta prove it to me before i marry you." marriage.

oh marriage, marriage, marriage.

it had been on your mind since you were a little girl. you have ached and dreamed and wished upon the stars for it to find you.

"how?" his brows tilt at your broken voice. he shoves you down until your head meets the wooden flooring and your back stings at the impact.

he is over you, his shadow casting along your figure. "let me fuck you. submit yourself to me alone. if ever you touch another man, i'll know."

his voice is deep, his expression dark. he is terrifying, you wonder how someone so pretty could look so horrific. you swallow hard.

"i'd kill him and i'd kill you." his eyes do not leave yours for a second. he brings your legs around his narrow waist, the weigh of his erection digging into the flesh of your inner thighs.

"but if you be good, i'll marry you. i'll take you away from this place."

you want so desperately to escape, you want so desperately to be anywhere but here. you want to be with him even if he is awful.

"will you marry me?" your fingers itch with the urge to draw him closer, your voice a warbled mess. your legs tighten around him, you want him close. so close.

it seems he knows because he nears until his body is flush to yours. until you are engulfed by his scent and the hardness of his figure.

"i swear it." his eyes flick to your lips, so close to him that they brush with his words. his admission has you gripping his cheeks and kissing him.

it's an inexperienced and sloppy kiss but you do as best as you can and naoya finds your mouth one of his favourite things.

tears leak from your eyes as he shoves his entire length into you and your body tenses.

for the second time that night he claims you.

---

despite wanting to be angry at him, you cannot. not when he kissed every bruise he left on your skin, not when he pressed his lips to yours like you meant something to him.

not when he tugged you into his side and you find revery in his scent.

something about naoya is so comforting you find yourself falling asleep with no issue.

or maybe it is because he used and exhausted your body.

he has you wrapped in his arms with familiarity. your face mushed to his chest and your leg thrown over his waist.

his thumb coaxes along your back, his face nuzzling your hair. you look adorable, you look too precious. even in your sleep you press into him more.

naoya wants to burn the sight into his brain.

you are his forever.

"my soul always searches for yours but you have never remembered mine. not once." he whispers into the air although you cannot hear it.

although you do not respond.

isn't he so dreamy ^^

#🩷.jjk #san.stories #📁.size kink #📁.virginity kink #📁.dumbification #tw.dubcon #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk #naoya smut #jjk naoya #jjk x reader #jjk smut #naoya x you #naoya zenin #naoya x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #fic: my soul searches

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