harryslittlefreakk · 10 months ago
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the pact
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summary: you and harry made a childhood pact to marry if you were both still single when he reached 30. now that his big birthday is approaching, you find out whether your friendship (and your pact) have stood the test of time
warnings: mostly fluff, some smut :)
wordcount: 6k
a/n: i actually really like this one. it’s not proofread yet as i was so eager to get it up lol. hope you enjoy!
my masterlist can be found here! happy reading 🫶🏼
From the second you’d received the invitation, you were buzzing with a giddy nervousness. It had been years since you’d seen Harry, though Anne and Gemma were always so quick to share what he was up to. You’d followed his career silently for 13 years, still bumping into him every few years when Anne hosted Boxing Day, or he happened to be in town for your family’s annual summer barbecues. In your mind, he was still the cheeky, dimpled little lad you’d hide under the dining room table with, imagining you were explorers of far away lands.
But Harry wasn’t the young boy you’d chased after in your childhood anymore, the teenager you looked out for when you stuck your head over the garden fence to call your sister home. He wasn’t the handsome young man you’d spent countless hours swooning over with your friends in the bakery after school. Harry was a global sensation, the world’s sweetheart. You weren’t sure he’d even recognise you, a forgotten reminder of much simpler days.
Growing up next door to Harry hadn’t come without its challenges. You’d lost your childhood best friend seemingly overnight once One Direction formed, his life suddenly busy with meetings, tours and interviews. Anne still welcomed you with open arms, but her house felt a little too cold for you with his presence haunting the walls, memories etched into every surface of the house. You’d still hang out in his bedroom sometimes, his band posters and drawings left collecting dust in a lifeless room. When girls from school learned of your connection to him, they’d befriend you and treat you like the hottest new thing until you refused to give over any information. He was your Harry, your long-gone games and silly memories something you held close to your heart. It soon seemed easier to let him go altogether, move on to a new chapter, stop waiting for your best friend to appear again.
Still, you were glad to be able to support Gemma on one of her biggest days. She’d become such a regular feature in your household, she felt like family herself. Your parents had been more overjoyed at the news of her impending nuptials than any of yours or your sister’s recent achievements. They loved Gemma like their own, their ‘extra daughter’, as your dad called her. You knew this was as big a moment for them as it was for Anne, having watched Gemma grow from the tiny dark-haired girl your sister had raved about on her first day of school, to a woman about to become a wife.
Standing outside of the venue now, a beautiful old church overlooking the peaceful tides below, yours and Harry’s childhood pact suddenly hit you. You were laying on a blanket in your garden, tops of your heads pressed together as you made out shapes in the clouds above. “I will never get married,” you told Harry. Your parents had had their wedding album out that day, sharing stories with Anne and Robin. You squirmed and grimaced every time they spoke about it, never understanding how any girl would willingly share their life with a boy. “Yuck,” he squeaked from next to you. “Me either. I don’t ever want to live with a stinky girl!” You giggled together, the cool evening breeze washing over you. “Maybe, maybe I might one day though. When I’m really old and lonely.”
“Old like my parents?” you asked him. “Even olderer than that. Like 30.” You gasped, quickly trying to count on your fingers. “That’s really really old. Maybe we can be married when we’re 30.” Harry ran inside when you said this, leaving you chasing after him once again. He grabbed a napkin from the kitchen counter and scribbled on it in felt tip,
‘I ____ will marry Harry when we’re really super old’
“You have to put your name on that line or it’s not real,” Harry told you, handing the blue felt tip to you. You both signed your initials underneath, and proudly went to show your parents. They’d fallen about in laughter when you told them, promising to hold you to your pact. You hadn’t seen the napkin since that day, and you were sure it was long forgotten by everybody, especially Harry. You felt a small twinge in your chest at this, suddenly wishing you were anywhere but here.
“Hey Boo, you okay? Anne wants to get some pictures of us all together before the ceremony,” your dad told you, leading you through the crowd of guests. Boo was the only nickname that had ever stuck for you, starting when you and Harry decided to go as Boo and Sully from Monsters Inc. one Halloween. You’d originally wanted to be Mike, but with your big brown eyes shielded by little bangs and your signature pigtails, everyone persuaded you to be Boo. You’d outgrown almost everything else from childhood, but Boo was stuck with you for life.
“Oh Y/N, you look lovely darling,” Anne cooed as you came into her sight. She pulled you in for a hug, kissing your cheek as she pulled away. You had to admit, you did scrub up well. It was a long time since you’d really made the effort to look properly nice, still caught in the comfort of your pandemic wardrobe of leggings and sweatshirts. The olive-green maxi dress you’d settled on hugged your body in all the right places, a thick band of material draping over your chest and the tops of your arms, showcasing your toned shoulders. You’d always weirdly liked your shoulders and neck, an odd area to be proud of but it was by far your favourite part of your body. Your hair was scraped back in a sleek bun, tiny wisps framing your fresh face. “Gem and Sophia are still inside, they’ll be out in a minute. Gem’s so excited to see you, it’s been so long since we’ve all been together,” Anne gushed, running a hand up the outside of your arm.
She had such a delicate, warm presence, it was no wonder she’d raised two children as incredible as Harry and Gemma. Anne had been an extension of your own mum as you grew up, small traces of her as much as part of you as they were her own kids. She’d talked you through boys and heartbreaks, been there to wave you off to your school prom, one of the proudest faces in the crowd when you graduated university. She’d been stationed on the garden patio alongside your mum at every birthday party, the two women nattering away as they guarded the wine.
Gemma stepped out of the door, pulling you out of your daydream down memory lane. Your jaw went slack when you saw her, she was positively radiant. Her dress was a dainty satin, huge bishop sleeves adorning her arms and a beautiful full skirt, flowing around her petite frame in the gentle seaside breeze. Your mum rushed over to her first, smoothing a loving hand down the front of her skirt. “You look beautiful Gem,” she told her, tears glistening on her bottom eyelashes. Hugs and pleasantries were exchanged throughout the group, shoulders bumping gaily as you moved around. One thing was still missing though - Harry. You knew he’d never miss his sisters wedding, though he was absolutely nowhere to be seen. Just as you were about to ask, you saw him. With a deep brown suit jacket draped across his body, matching slacks hanging loose on his muscular thighs. A white vest hung low on his chest, his inked swallows sitting pretty on tanned skin.
You knew how good he looked these days, of course. Your tiktok had been full of videos of him performing, Anne’s house littered with framed photos. But seeing him in real life lit a fire in your belly. He’d always been pretty, green eyes and curls enough to charm any woman, but now he was hot. A great, big hunk of sexy man. He approached your parents first, laughing as your dad chose to forgo Harry’s outstretched hand, pulling him into a hug instead. “Here’s our not-so-little superstar,” he smiled, ruffling Harry’s messy curls. Harry pressed a kiss into your mums cheek, exchanging a quick but heartfelt hello. His eyes caught on yours as he glanced across the courtyard, your brown eyes still crinkled as you smiled, in exactly the same way they had when you were younger. “Little Boo!” he chuckled, striding towards you. His strong arms wrapped you into a firm cuddle, his musky scent spilling into your pores. “You look incredible,” he whispered into your ear, voice raspy and low. It wasn’t long before Anne was ushering you all into place to take some pictures, cutting yours and Harry’s catch up short. “Come and find me later,” he told you as you beamed for the camera.
With the ceremony long-finished, the party had spilled out of the church hall and onto the grounds outside. You’d danced, mingled and laughed for as long as you could before needing a minute of quiet. Brushing your hand across your mum’s back, you told her you were going for a little walk and would be back soon. You slipped out of the open doors, yanking your heels off in search of some quick relief. You spotted a little wooden bench overlooking the sea, a little way away from the other guests. A great oak tree shielded it from the warm evening sun, providing you just the right amount of peace.
“Thought you were gonna find me,” a voice suddenly came from behind you. You turned around to see Harry approaching your private spot, a sparkling glass in each hand. “Hey,” you smiled. “Just needed a little bit of quiet. Come sit,” you patted the bench beside you. Harry handed you one of the glasses as he sat down, murmuring, “saw you heading over here. Thought I’d bring you a little tipple.” You cheersed, the clinking of glasses cutting through a heavy silence. “How have you been?” he asked you, shifting his body slightly to face you.
“Been good, H. Thank you for asking. Work’s going well, was a bit slow with the pandemic and all but life’s been kind to me recently. I don’t really need to ask you, do I?” you laughed, suddenly shy in his presence. “No, I guess not,” he answered, smiling kindly at you. You settled back into an uncomfortable silence, not really sure how to talk to one another anymore.
“Mum told me you moved to London,” Harry said, seemingly desperate to pierce the awkwardness hanging over you both. “Yeah, I did,” you told him, explaining how Holmes Chapel had started to feel just a little too small, a little too cut off from the rest of the world. “I can understand that,” he told you, chuckling. You ran through the usual questions, telling him about your work as an illustrator, your little flat off of Finchley high road, the couple of girls from school you’d kept in touch with. “I can’t believe you live so close to me,” he gasped. “Mum could never remember what area you lived in, if I’d known you were only down the road we could have reconnected long before now,” Harry told you. You let out an involuntary scoff at this, telling him, “you know where to find me, H. You know your mum has my number, you know where I’ll be every Christmas and birthday. If you really wanted to reconnect it would have happened long before now.” Your words tumbled out, years of one-sided hurt and rejection suddenly pushing to the surface. Harry took a big sip of his drink, placing his hand over yours. “I’ve been shit, I know. Got caught up in everything and barely looked back. Wanted to reach out a long time before now but I couldn’t bring myself,” he told you. “Felt so bad for how I just disappeared and didn’t want to face it.”
You looked at him with sad eyes, searching his face for any sign of insincerity. “I get it, H. I’m really happy for you, I am. You had all your dreams come true, it’s amazing,” you set your glass down beside you and held your other hand over his. “Just feel sad that I lost my best friend overnight.” Your eyes welled up as you spoke, a combination of the free-flowing prosecco, the beautiful ceremony, and facing your hurt with the man who caused it. “Never had a friend who got me like you did,” you chuckled bitterly. Harry pulled his hands from yours and snaked an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to his side. “I’m sorry, little Boo, I swear.”
The pair of you stayed that way for a while, soaking in each other’s words and the idyllic setting. Just being close to each other for the first time in almost a decade, having said what you both needed to, was bliss. “I thought about you a lot, y’know,” Harry told you suddenly, the words bursting out as if he’d been biting them back for a while. “Yeah?” you asked him, sitting up straighter to look at him again. He nodded, cheeks twinged slightly pink. You weren’t sure if it was the booze or his confession. “All my big moments, always wished you were there.”
“You know I would’ve been if I knew you wanted me to, Harry.”
“I know,” he mumbled, watching his own trainer-clad feet kicking little rocks around. “My mum and dad went to a few of your shows with Anne, watched the Brits and the Grammys every year you were nominated.” You swallowed thickly, before continuing, “I’m really proud of you, we all are.”
Harry turned his head slightly to the sound of music blaring from inside, before asking you, “dance with me?” He extended a hand to help you up, placing his glass down before wrapping an arm around your waist. You stepped together slowly, bodies moving in unison with your head rested softly against his chest. The skies had gotten gradually darker as you’d spoken, closing in around you until only a faint glow seeped out from the open church doors. Harry pushed you out, spinning you around before tugging you back into him. You smacked against his chest with a little ‘umph’, the wind knocked out of you. Your eyes met his, a little dazed, and all you could do was stare.
It felt like a betrayal of your childhood self to find him so attractive now. He was your best friend, your first friend, the only one to ever understand you fully. He’d guided you through your awkward pre-teen stage, the extra years he had on you put to good use when he showed you cool bands and songs to make boys like you. But now, you wanted him to be the boy that liked you. You were so flustered under his gaze, heat tearing through your body. “Let’s head back in,” you told Harry, words shaky. He kept an arm tight around your shoulder, shaking you about as you approached the church. ‘I’ve got my little Boo back’ he laughed in a sing-song tune. You could feel the happiness radiating off his body, knowing without even looking that his toothy grin would be firmly nestled between two deep dimples.
Your parents were sat around a table with Anne, Michal and Gemma still doing the rounds. You could tell they were drunk from a mile away - your dads cheeks stained red with merriment and Anne’s hands gesturing wildly as your mum roared with laughter. You’d missed this. You still went home as often as you could, never missing an opportunity to enjoy time with your loved ones, but before seeing Harry today it always felt different. Gemma, your sister, and Harry had all moved on, never fully present. But being the youngest, you were the one left behind. Harry pulled around two chairs for you both, plopping down between you and his mum. She draped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. “My special boy, where have you been?” she slurred.
“Been catching up,” Harry told her, a blush creeping up his cheeks as she looked between the two of you before winking at him. She was far from subtle before getting wine drunk, so now her entire head moved with her wink. She highlighted it with a loud “wink, wink” in Harry’s direction. “Anne!” you spluttered, choking out a laugh. Your dad reached over to snatch the two empty glasses from in front of you and Harry, promising to fill them to the brim so you could ‘get on their bloody level’.
The evening continued like that, the 5 of you drinking and laughing, reminiscing on your younger days. Your parents and Anne managing to bring up enough embarrassing stories about you both to put you off ever speaking to them again. “I think it’s time we all go to bed,” Harry started, holding his hands up. “Because we’re all fucking PISSED!”, he continued, yelling at the table. You banged on the table in hysterics, eyes screwed up tight as you and Anne fell into each other in laughter. Most of the venue had cleared out by now, guests dropping by your table to congratulate Anne on their way out. You’d barely seen Gemma all night, so content in her little love bubble that she’d spent the majority of the evening alone with Michal, feeding each other cake and slow-dancing.
“Come on, you big lump,” you tugged at your dad’s wrists who in turn pulled at your mum to stand up. Your dad swung his arms around you both, Harry and Anne joining onto the end, and you stumbled towards the exit in a fit of laughter. Harry tried to start a can-can line, kicking one big foot up into the air, but the 5 of you put together had far less coordination than even one sober person, so the idea was quickly abandoned.
The church had a converted barn outside, with rooms purpose-built for immediate family and friends to stay in. You hugged and kissed your goodnights to your parents and Anne, making sure they all got into bed without mischief. Now it was only you and Harry left, buzzed but significantly less drunk than your elders. “Care for one last round?” Harry asked you, slipping a little hip flask out from his blazer pocket. You knew this was a bad idea, a drunken evening alone with the man you’d been lusting after all day. But you certainly wouldn’t make the first move, and you were almost sure he didn’t think of you as anything other than the little girl who used to run around with him.
You followed him into his room, laughing to drown out the alarm bells ringing in your head. Once you saw the empty bed in front of you, you couldn’t help but just flop down on it, suddenly needing to be as comfortable as you could. The room was aged and rustic, but the bed was far more comfortable than it looked. Harry sat against the pillows beside you, long legs stretched out before him as he took a swig from the flask.
For the first time that day, the silence around you was peaceful. Just two old friends enjoying each others presence. Harry watched you as you took the flask from him, grimacing as the liquor went down with a burn. His green eyes were studying every little line on your face, every freckle dotted across your bare shoulders. There was so much new about you, so many little details and marks you’d gained as you grew older, all the little telltale signs of the years he’d missed. What he’d said to you earlier was true, he’d missed you with his whole heart from the second he’d left you behind, spent so many lonely nights wishing he had you by his side. He thought he’d outgrown you, his new-found fame taking precedence over the little girl he’d shared his dreams and aspirations with. But sitting here now with you, he knew you’d grown with him, no matter how far removed your life had become from his. “‘M nearly 30, you know,” he drawled, voice hoarse from the singing and the sting of alcohol in his throat.
“Huh?” you turned to him confused. “I’m 30 next year,” he told you. “Yeah I know, H. What does that have to do with anything?” you laughed, poking at the side of his head. “Means we have to get married next year,” he grinned. You gasped, remembering the pact you’d thought about earlier in the day, “you didn’t forget!” you laughed, sitting up against the soft pillows.
“Can’t do it next year though, two weddings in a year would send our parents insane,” you told him. “‘M finished with my tour now. Got nothing on next year,” Harry shrugged, a familiar cheeky smirk sitting pretty between his dimpled cheeks. You felt something shift in the air as he spoke, and he seemed to feel it too, edging closer to you until his face was only centimetres away from yours. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?” he cooed, one hand coming up to cup your cheek. His touch shot electricity through your core, a tingling sensation starting where his fingers touched you before washing over your whole body. You shook your head lightly, eyes fixed on him. He leaned in at this, his parted lips meeting yours. The beginnings of a moustache tickled your upper lip, his hot breath flowing into your mouth with every lick of his tongue. You shifted your body towards him as the kiss deepened, four legs and the now-crumpled duvet tangling together as you rushed to close the distance between your bodies. Harry licked into your mouth with the passion of a million years of unspoken longing, his movements saying more than he ever could with words. It was the kind of kiss you’d expect from someone who’d loved you for a lifetime, who wanted to love you for a lifetime, your tongues working alongside each other like this was routine, like you’d done it a thousand times before.
“Harry,” you whispered, hands pushing his blazer from his shoulders. He let you pull it off him, then stroked a hand up your thigh as you admired his upper body. One arm was littered in patchwork tattoos, though all you could focus on was his muscles, illuminated beautifully in the evening light. “Let me get you out of this,” he rasped, twisting your shoulders around to access the zip running down the back of your dress. He smoothed his fingers down your waist and to your hips before unzipping you, your body dwarfed by his strong hands. Harry pressed a kiss into the top of your back, then kissed up and down your spine, hungry for a taste of you as he unveiled more of your skin. You stood up to help him pull your dress down, resting one hand on his shoulder to steady yourself as you stepped out of it, leaving it discarded on the floor. “Matches my eyes,” he smiled. His gaze trailed from your toes, up to your knees, to where your panties wrapped around your hips, and higher still. Up your tanned abdomen to your bare breasts where your rosebud nipples sat perky, to your neck, and finally his gaze rested on your eyes. “Y’so beautiful,” he groaned, running a soft touch along the curve of your neck.
Harry pulled his tank top over his head, stepping out of his slacks as they collapsed at his feet. His body was unbelievable. So tanned and toned, firm in all the right places yet soft in the best ones. You could see the outline of his hard shaft through the thin fabric of his boxers, an almost silent moan slipping out as you took in the sight before you.
He stepped closer to you, backing you up until the side of the bed hit the back of your knees, then held a hand to your back to guide you down onto it. His hot, drunken breath washed over you as he climbed on top of you, one hand balancing his body as the other explored you. His fingers groped your breast firmly, mouth finding the opposite nipple, sucking it into his lips in one quick movement. Your back arched off the bed, pleasure so built up that it only took one touch to send you into a frenzy. Harry licked a circle around your areola, chuckling against your skin as you writhed under his touch. “Barely even started yet, little Boo,” he drawled, moving upwards to kiss along your clenched jaw.
His fingers danced down your body, smoothing over your mound as you gasped and groaned. They slipped under the soft material of your panties, blissfully cold against the heat of your entrance. You were already soaked through, much to his surprise, so he swiped a finger through your folds to collect your juices before landing straight on your clit. Harry rubbed you in circles, the friction leaving you a panting mess under him, head jutting out to press open-mouthed kisses on his throat.
He pulled your panties down your thighs tenderly, kissing every inch of skin they passed over. In the dim light of the room, mouth moving up and down your body, he’d never looked so handsome. His cock brushed against you as he moved back up your body to focus again on your folds, your juices spread across your mound in a mess. Two long fingers dived straight in, his rings leaving a harsh chill against your sensitive skin. The stretch of his fingers alone had you panting, a familiar burning starting in your core. Harry found your sweet spot insanely fast, fingers moving in a perfect beckoning motion just as you liked. He navigated your body like you’d done this before, like the muscle memory just guided him to what he knew made you feel good. “I want more, want you inside of me,” you whined, hips bucking towards Harry’s groin as he silenced you with a deep kiss. “Got to get you ready for me first, Boo”, he told you. You winced as he used your nickname, knowing you’d never be able to hear your dad call you that without thinking of this night.
Harry’s mouth found your breast again, sucking deep purple bruises onto the gentle skin as you whimpered beneath him. He smacked at your pussy as your moans got louder, causing your eyes to shoot up to meet his. “Gotta keep the noise down, sweet girl.” You nodded in response, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip to keep yourself as quiet as you could be. The second his tongue found your nipple, you felt your orgasm bubbling up in your core. Harry noticed the way your head lulled back, slipping a third finger inside of you and using his thumb to brush against your clit. It was like the holy trinity of foreplay, his skilled tongue and fingers hitting your three most pleasurable zones at once. Your climax hit quickly, walls tightening around his digits as you clamped your forearm across your mouth, desperately trying not to scream his name. He peppered kisses down your throat as his fingers rode you through your high, only pulling them away when you went limp under him. Harry held his fingers to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick off every trace of your creamy come.
He backed off you to kick his boxers down his legs, stroking his erection as it oozed precum. He found his wallet, pulling out a condom and rolling it down the length of his cock. “How do you want me, sweet girl?” he asked you, cock twitching in his hand. “Wanna go on top,” you told him, suddenly eager to impress. If his cock was anywhere near as good to you as his hands and mouth had been, you couldn’t only have him once. You needed to show him how good your pretty pussy could take him, make him want to come back for more.
Harry rolled onto the centre of the bed, hands guiding your hips down over his groin. His hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you towards him for a sloppy kiss. His mouth tasted of you, the familiar tingle of juices on his tongue. You stroked his member up and down quickly, before lining it up with your entrance and pushing yourself down onto his tip. “Fuck, H. You’re so big,” you whined, thighs burning as you hovered above him. He used his hands to move you up, then down, down, down, helping you to take him fully. The burn was like nothing you’d experienced before, his girthy cock crammed into every corner of your pussy. You stilled for a moment, hands resting against his butterfly tattoo, chest rising and falling quickly as you tried to push past the ache. He held a thumb under your chin, tilting your head to look at him. “You ok, pet?” he asked, needing to be sure before you continued. You nodded, moving one arm to pull his finger into your mouth. You licked circles around his fingertip, sucking it in down to his knuckle before releasing with it a pop.
Harry’s hands guided your hips to grind against him, helping you until you found your rhythm. He pulled them away, one landing with a loud smack on your ass cheek as the other crept up the front of your body, resting at your throat. He squeezed lightly, the sensation only spurring you on to bounce up and down on him, the combination of your juices squelching as your cheeks slapped against his groin. It was the kind of hot, dirty sex you’d only ever dreamed of, and it had you falling apart on top of him. You cried out a strangled moan, expletives falling out of both of your mouths. “Feel so good around me,” Harry groaned, “so fucking wet. S’that all for me?”
“All for you, H. M’all yours,” you whimpered. His hips bucked against you as you told him you were his, fingers pulling away from your supple ass. He spat on them before dancing them back across your asscheek and smoothing the spit around your second hole, eyes fixed on your pussy bouncing on his cock. “Can I?” he asked you. “Please, H.”
He pushed a finger into your tightness, filling you up so well. You felt so full you could burst. His eyes were clouded over with lust, tiny hairs slick to his forehead with sweat. He looked feral, and you loved it. He repositioned his feet to where they were flat against the bed, hips knocking into you as you moved up and down his cock, his thrusts sending him deeper and deeper inside of you. You were both panting now, barely able to contain your highs for a second longer. “Come with me, come with me please,” you begged him, your second orgasm of the night starting to rise through your core. His thrusts got faster and sloppier, obscene sounds echoing around the room, a clear sign of what you were doing to anyone who could hear you right now. Your orgasm crept up on you quickly, thanks to Harry tightening his grip around your neck and pushing his finger further into your tight hole. Your head was thrown back as you came, back arched making his cock feel as though it could burst through your belly button. Harry moaned loudly, hips jutting one last time as he flooded the condom with his come. You collapsed in a sweaty heap, totally unable to hold yourself up any longer.
“Took me so well, angel girl,” Harry drawled as he pulled out of you, padding across the room to toss the condom and rinse his hands. You lay there in total bliss, comfortable in the knowledge that your friendship was long gone.
“Let me go first and you can come after,” you told Harry, holding a finger up to shush him when he started to laugh. “We’re grown adults, Y/N, it doesn’t matter if anyone sees us come out together.”
“I don’t write songs about sex and drugs. My body is still untouched in my parents eyes,” you told him, hand slipping from the doorknob as he pulled you in for another kiss. “Just don’t come until you hear me leaving.”
You crept out of the room as silently as you could, heels and dress bundled under one arm. You’d heard Anne, your parents and Gemma head out to the courtyard already, so there was no danger of being caught by prying eyes - or so you thought. As you were padding across the hallway to your room, Anne appeared round the corner. “I was just coming to see if you were awake,” she told you, eyes sparkling with glee. “No wonder your mum said your bed was untouched.” She knocked on Harry’s door with a tight-lipped smile lighting up her face. He opened the door wide-eyed as Anne pulled him into a firm hug, pressing a sticky lipgloss kiss to his cheek. “I always hoped you two would get together.” She disappeared back down the hall as quickly as she appeared, leaving you and Harry blushing.
You decided to make your way outside together, knowing it wouldn’t be long before your parents put two and two together anyway. Plus, you knew Anne wouldn’t be able to resist telling your mum and Gemma what she saw.
You decided to spend the day on the beach, you and Harry with your parents and Anne, since Gemma and Michal had already left for their honeymoon. It was a perfect summers day, the sun warm enough to enjoy but not hot enough to irritate you, the gentle sea breeze cooling you down as it washed over you. Your mum and Anne were sprawled across a linen blanket, two bottles of wine stood in the sand next to their feet. They called you over, instant dread washing over you as Anne excitedly shouted your name. “Do you have anything to tell us?” she asked you, and you were sure there would be mischief glinting in her eyes under her big sunglasses. They sat up and scooted over on their blanket, leaving space for you to slot in between. “Nothing that I’m sure you don’t already know,” you smirked, a deep blush creeping up your cheeks. Your mum looked between Anne and you, gasping as she swatted at your leg. “So it’s true! You dirty little minx.”
You held your head in your hands, mortified that your parents knew you’d slept with Harry. “Oh relax,” your mum told you. “It’s nothing we haven’t done before,” she smirked, throwing herself towards Anne as they howled in laughter. Anne stopped suddenly, her hand tapping at your mum’s thigh incessantly. “If they get married, we’ll be real family!” she gasped, face pink with joy. “Well, the pact is what got us there in the first place,” Harry told them, sitting down next to you and snaking a hand around your waist.
“I forgot all about that,” your mum’s jaw went slack. “Do you still have it?” she asked Anne. “Of course I do. Kept it safe to show them when they found their way back to each other, always knew this day would come.”
part two
taglist: @sleutherclaw @harrysolaf @slutforcoffein
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juliewillruinu · 2 months ago
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"One Last Time" | Toji Fushiguro x Reader
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Pov: You're being married off by your clan which caused you to distance yourself from Toji, but how will you react to finding out he is also being arranged to marry another woman?
18+ MDNI
Dom Toji x fem!reader, smut, P in V, no protection, overflowing cum, slight degrading, cheating (kinda, but not really), ass smacking, and a bit of fingering. (I do not own the artwork above.)
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You promised yourself you wouldn't see him again. That your eyes would never meet his.
You promised yourself that you'd live a good life without him. You didn't need him any longer.
You promised yourself to do what was best for your clan. They were your priority.
You promised yourself that you'd be happy with your future husband. You'd learn to love him.
You smiled whenever someone mentioned the name of your fiance, a man, not named Toji. A man you've never met in person. You'd tell them, "I know I'll be happy with him. I've heard so many good things about him."
Everything was sunshine and rainbows until you heard the news that Toji was to be marry into another clan. You acted as if you were fine with it but you were not. Toji was yours. Your family could sell you off to another clan all they wanted, but to know that while you were gone another woman would keep him company, take over your role in his life, it saddened you, it pissed you off, it made you want to strangle yourself. You spent nights crying yourself to sleep. What were you going to do? Was there anything you could do? You could only choose family or love. In this time and age, you couldn't dare have both.
You promised yourself you'd never let his skin grace yours again.
Yet, here you are. Crying in Toji's arms, your face buried in the crook of his neck as his back is rested against the wall of your room. He entered carefully and quietly through your window. He heard how you shut yourself away recently, he knew why. He knew he had to comfort you. One last time.
You told him, "I can be without you, Toji."
"You told me you didn't need me."
You pulled away to bore your red orbs into his and spoke hastily. "I lied! I do need you so don't marry that woman. Don't hurt me like this anymore."
Toji yanked your chin, drawing your face close to his. In that moment, you saw an intensity in his eyes that was unlike anything you had ever witnessed before. His usual demeanor, so often marked by indifference and a seemingly impenetrable exterior, was shattered. The anger and vulnerability in his gaze revealed a depth of emotion you had never seen in him.
He had always seemed untouchable, as though nothing could truly affect him. But now, with you so close, everything was different. You were the only person who had ever seen beyond his Zenin lineage, who had looked at him not as a member of a powerful clan but simply as Toji. The memory of your words, "You're not a Zenin to me. I see you as just Toji," echoed in his mind, a poignant reminder of the rare connection you shared.
"You're not the only one who feels hurt by this. Do you think I like the idea of another man having his lips against yours?" His lips were dangerously close to yours. It made you shiver in anticipation. "Do you think I want him to touch what is mine? Just knowing you'll spend your wedding night with him makes me want to rip his head off. I can't let you go like that."
"Then don't." You said almost pleading. "Don't let him take me away, Toji."
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"Do you think he could fuck you this good, huh? I know all your weak spots. He'd be an amateur compared to me. Don't you think?"
"...yes, yes, yes..."
Your moans filled the room as you watched how mercilessly Toji was fucking you through your vanity mirror. His eyes scrunched close as his hand held one of your wrists down and held your hand in his other. His large, vainy cock had you stretched out, vigorously entering to hit your vulnerable spots and your insides, sucking him right back in when he pulled back. Sweat glistened off both your bodies as the force he was using was causing your bed to shake. The heavy storm outside kept your screams from being heard by the servants who might be walking around during these late hours. Toji kept his promise when he told you that'd he'd fuck you so hard you wouldn't be able to get out of bed for your wedding.
Red love bites were left on your neck and breasts while you returned the favor by leaving faint scratch marks on his chest and back and teeth marks on his shoulders.
You hissed as Toji's tip pounded against the one spot you enjoyed the most. You were close again. Just a little longer and you'd melt for him again. Toji must have gotten the message as his eyes fluttered open before making contact with yours through the mirror. You could see a mischievous smirk grow on his face. He could feel your insides slowly clamping down on his cock, almost ready to rip it off him.
"Who gave you permission to come yet?" Before you had a chance to answer, Toji had already pulled his cock out causing a slight "pop" noise to occur. His cum from previous rounds began to ooze out of you now that there wasn't anything to keep it inside. It practically left you whining.
"Don't take it out. I was s'close."
"Naughty girl, you have no shame do you? Tomorrow you'll be someone's wife and here you are drooling for your lovers cock?"
He took his teasing further and inserted his index finger which he pumped back and forth against your walls. He wouldn't even give you at least two fingers, not that it would have been enough to help you finish, but it would give much better results than one finger and Toji knew this well.
"Toji, put it back in...please."
"Do you want it that bad?" You nodded frantically. "Then go ahead take it. Milk it, make yourself cum on it, but you'll be the one doing all the work."
You sat up seeing Toji lay his scratched back against the bed before getting on top of him with your shaking legs. You weren't used to being on top and his posture made it seem as if he'd have you do all the work, but you didn't mind. If he was allowed to prove to you that no man could fuck you the way he could, it was only right to prove to him that no woman would ever be good enough for him unless it was you.
One of his hands traveled up your thigh, fingers caressing your supple skin while the other attempted to align his cock to your entrance. His hand went to your hips, ready to help ease you down on it only to be met by your boldness as you slammed yourself down on his thick length. He threw his head back, grunting as your insides molded around him perfectly causing his cock to pulsate in excitement. His large hands gripped each side of your bum, begging for you to move already. You placed your hands on his toned stomach to keep yourself balanced and began to move up and down. You took your precious time, taking it nice and slow. Toji shouldn't be the only one allowed to tease.
"What do you think you’re doing?"
"Teaching you a lesson from earlier."
"Ah!"
He growled giving your ass a hard smack that left a burning sensation, "don't be a brat."
'You're the one acting like one,' you said to yourself before you picked up the pace. Each time you move down his cock the skin of your bum and his shaft made loud slapping noises that left his gulping.
"Fuck, just like, princess. So fucking tight. You like that don't you?"
You met another slap on your ass when you didn't respond fast enough.
"Yes! It's the best, Toji! It's so fucking good!"
The bed creaked underneath the both of you, his cock hitting every spot imaginable. You could feel his cock start to swell, he was close just as were you. He pulled you down against his chest, wrapping a arm around you waist to keep you attached to him while his other hand pushed down on your bum as he jerks his hips up. There's no doubt about it. You were so cock drunk that even your moans sounded incoherent. It felt like your mind was elsewhere while the center of your stomach tightened.
His hot breath brushed against your skin, "Tell me who you love. Come on, tell me, little whore."
"You! I love you! Fuck, Toji. I love you." He hungrily smashed his lips against yours giving you no time to breathe. His tongue wrestling against yours, seeking for its submission to him. You fisted at the pillows near his head as his cock was destroying your insides. Your thoughts only focused on Toji as he nipped at your bottom lip.
"I can't hold it anymore~"
"Fuck, me too. Come on, princess. Give it to me and I'll reward you."
Toji, in the throes of passion, drives his hips firmly against you one last time. His release is powerful, filling you with a warm, thick sensation as his cum spreads inside you. You feel him pulse and release, the heat and pressure intensifying as he finishes.
As he remains inside you, the sensation of his cum beginning to overflow adds a heightened sense of fullness. Your body responds instinctively, your lower body jolting slightly as the sensation of his release overwhelms you. The tightness in your stomach starts to ease, replaced by a warm, satisfying relaxation.
•••
You and Toji laid sideway near each other, your bodies hidden underneath the silk sheets. You could feel his warm lips press against your head as you buried your face in his chest. His strong hand move up and down your back. His touch, his scent his breathing, they were all so comforting. How could you possible live without this man?
"Toji, let's run away. Tonight. Just me and you. Let's never come back here." Your spoke with a straight face, Toji rested his chin over your head, chuckling at your serious tone.
"What about your clan, hmm?"
"..Screw them.."
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ch6sos · 6 months ago
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more nanami headcanons (but as your bf !!!)
a/n: hey everyone! thank you for all the support on my last headcanon post. i never really expected it to go far, but somehow it did. it was my first time ever posting a "fic" you know? i was cringing the entire time but it was worth it, for you guys :) since it did well, here is some more!
i used third person by the way so you're referred to as his partner. tried to make this as gender neutral as possible cuz i love you guys
cw: slight suggestiveness (ooooh... but it's not extreme you sillies)
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Extreme gentleman. He respects their wishes all the time. If they want space, he will give it to them. He will give them whatever they ask for.
Pays on the first date. He forbids their significant other from doing anything. He will pay because he wants to. He truly wants to, not because he feels obligated to.
Would be kind of shy about doing anything at first, especially Teen!Nanami. Even after a long period of dating, he would always ask before showing affection because he does not know if they feel comfortable or okay with it.
"May I please hold your hand? Are you okay with that?
"...We've been dating for a month."
"I know, but, I must ask, you know? In case it makes you uncomfortable.”
When he (as well as they) grow comfortable, the affection begins to become more "intense." Not intense, but he does it more frequently. He holds their hand more, gives more kisses, more hugs...
He would give the best hugs. He is a cuddle machine. He appears to hate them, but does he truly? Exactly. No, he does not. He loves them so much. He wishes he could give up his job to spend the entire day cuddling with his partner.
"Stay close to me, please."
"I don't plan on moving."
"Good. I wish life were like this every day." He hums, squeezing them gently.
Kisses with him are never short; even if he is late. He never leaves his significant other hanging. He craves and desires to kiss them. He enjoys giving his partner a passionate kiss, drawing them near to his chest, and placing his hand behind their head, leaving a memory of the kiss that is warm, tender, and unforgettable.
Genuinely feels like he could share his emotions with his significant other. Yeah, he is still serious, because it's who he is. He was raised in a family surrounded by serious people. Though, throughout the relationship, he learns how to express his emotions better. He feels like he genuinely could reveal all the emotions he has stored in him already around his significant other. If he's feeling upset, he would genuinely express that to them. If something ticked him off, he would sit down and talk to his partner about it.
Despite all of that, he still is more of a listener than a rambler. He prefers putting others first before him, and that also goes for who gets to talk. He enjoys looking at their partner with a loving gaze, as they talk nonsense. Whether it is about the new show they picked up, their day, or the latest gossip, he loves listening.
He would write love letters. I do not care if you find that corny. He is corny. He will write love letters. Nanami is romantic. I don't care what anyone says he is a romance god who does not get to show it off as much. He loves writing lengthy letters, showing the love he has for his partner. Describes their personality and how much he cherishes them, how much he thinks they're beautiful, and how he thinks that they are the stars in the night sky that stand out.
Playing with his partner's hair is (one of) his favorite ways to show affection. If they have long hair, he loves to try styling it and ruffling it. If they have type 4 coily hair, he starts learning how to take care of it so he can try protective hairstyles on them.
Another thing is lazy Sundays. He loves Sundays. Even though he has to go to stupid work the next day. The sensation of them being in his arms when he wakes up, his arms encircling their bodies firmly, the sheets covering them. He enjoys gently leaning in to kiss their shoulders, the top of their head, and the back of their neck. When they began to stir, he pulled them closer— not wanting to get out of bed. All he wants is to spend Sunday morning in bed with his lovely partner.
Gets flushed at compliments, but it is not as obvious. When their significant other says he is handsome, he smiles softly and thanks them, but on the inside, he is freaking out.
Cooks breakfast in bed for them. Always. He loves getting up just to make his significant other the tastiest breakfast ever; it is his specialty. He prepares a warm beverage and some fruit-flavored crepes topped with Nutella and whipped cream.
Before meeting them, Nanami was kind of an insomniac. He would not sleep; hence why he has dark circles. But after meeting them, he started sleeping more. Despite everything, he continues to get up before his partner to prepare breakfast for them.
Not only that but when he was stressed, he would drink his sorrows away rather than confide in someone. Since the fan book claims that he enjoys drinking, I think that, unfortunately, one of his coping mechanisms is doing exactly that. However, since meeting them, he has kept everything under control. He learned to express himself more freely and genuinely strives to avoid suppressing his emotions.
Bro is a simp. His mouth drops when he sees his partner dressed. His jaw falls to the floor. He is stuttering a bit too. I know he is supposed to be calm and collected but he would NOT be calm and collected around his significant other, people. He would go feral and be a simp for them.
He says I love you first. It was quite unexpected and seemed to come out of nowhere. He just blurted it out without waiting for the perfect moment or anything else. It was probably a simple morning, cuddling with him on the bed as usual, looking at each other fondly, and he said, "You know how much I adore you, right?"
When he realizes what he is saying, his eyes widen slightly, but then crinkle up when they tell him they love him as well.
He will do whatever his partner says. They could be 5'2 or around his height; he is a certified simp who immediately attends to their partner's needs.
Even if that includes forcibly doing silly TikTok trends. He pretends to hate it but he doesn't. He is a munch or whatever Ice Spice said.
He enjoys nuzzling his partner. Guys, I do not care. This man is a bundle of love wrapped up in a stoic-looking man. He enjoys sneaking up behind them, entrapping them in his arms, and nuzzling their neck and the top of their head. Wherever he wants, whenever he wants. And he utters sweet nothings. And leaves tiny, delicate kisses. He also wraps his arms around their waist.
He sometimes becomes overwhelmed, so he requires his own space. However, he does not simply distance himself from his partner. He properly expresses that sometimes he needs his own space. He still adores them but also needs some space. He does not want to cause conflict or misunderstanding because he is not that type of person.
Will be there for them when they are sick, even if they believe they look disgusting. He does not care; he believes they are the most beautiful sight he has ever seen in his entire life (which was cut short) (sorry, I am still coping). He will be there to care for them whether they are throwing up, crying, or whatever.
He cooks for them, he gives them medicine, he cuddles them even though he knows he may get sick...
And he does. Every single time. And he acts like a baby too.
Adorable tall, strong man Nanami acts like a baby when he's sick. He needs to be looked after completely. He starts off coughing (like a grandfather or a father). So his cough is obnoxious and loud, and he frowns. He then looks up at his partner, his expression reminiscent of a puppy who has been denied treats. It is an adorable sight. It's a turnaround from his usual chill demeanor. He then spends the entire day in bed, despite his attempts to do his routine tasks like cleaning and cooking for them, which they forbid. And he pouts about it like a big baby.
"Please let me take care of you. You took care of me, so now it's my turn."
"No, you're sick, Kento."
"That doesn't matter." He frowns.
“You always take care of me anyway.”
“But it is my honor to take care of you, my love.”
and then they end up having seven mental breakdowns
If they bring home a stray one day, he is reluctant on taking it but you know damn well he'd be like one of those dads that is hesitant about taking it at first but then ends up cuddling it the next day and then begging for them to not take it to the shelter.
Genuine sweetheart. Holds the door for their significant other, makes arrangements for them when they can not find the time, prepares meals for them, and if they come from a different culture, he starts to learn about it, particularly if they are involved in it.
...This guy is in no way aggressive. I have seen people mischaracterize him as a dominant "daddy" or whatever because he is serious, and Mappa blessed us with the hair-pulling scene. That scene was primarily caused by rage at Haruta's thoughtless harm to those around him and the fact that the man was going against two young girls. He would never act in such a way toward their partner, particularly when they were in bed. He is more of a gentle lover and is afraid of going too far.
Needs are needs, so if they ask, he will comply with some hesitation. He never seemed to get into it, so he tells them that.
That does not mean he is not into some stuff. Bro be praising. He praises hella and talks them through it.
"My love, doing so well for me."
"So beautiful, so gorgeous, all sprawled out for me like this."
“You’re mine. Until the end of time, angel.”
“God. My love, my everything. You drive me wild, you know that?”
“Eyes on me, sweetheart. Want to see how breathtaking you are from here.” All in his deep, ragged and needy voice.
that made me cringe
help I'm crying at the cringe so sorry
His favorite dates with them involve going to a restaurant. Nanami knows some hidden gems, so he enjoys taking them to restaurants where they can eat delicious food. Being a food enthusiast, it goes without saying that he is aware of the good and bad places to go. Because of Nanami's exquisite taste, they have never had to worry about their food.
As I previously stated, he prefers traditional nicknames such as sweetheart, my love, darling, angel, and beloved. I do not see him calling his significant other "baby," "baby girl," or whatever; I believe he finds it cringe-worthy. This is self-indulgent oops.
Sings softly to them while they are sleeping. He sings a song while they are sleeping because he is too ashamed of his singing. His vocals are not bad; he is just shy. (Little did he know, they had several recordings of him singing in secret...)
He will sacrifice his blanket in bed just to wrap it around his partner if they're cold. Bro would give them 90004868787893 pillows, and 8 blankets if they said they were cold.
He exaggerates things. And when I say he exaggerates, I mean he goes to great lengths to win his partner over. If they enter a new niche, he buys *everything*. On date nights, he gives them large bouquets if they like that, and he treats them as if they were royalty.
"You didn't need to get me this entire figure collection from *series*... I feel so bad."
"Well, do not worry, I enjoy buying these things for you. I see how happy you are, and it immediately warms my heart.”
Arguments with him are not bad. He truly never gets upset to the point of yelling because that is not who he is���he is not a guy who yells and he does not want to cause trauma to people in general. Again, though, he seems composed, and it might be frightening. But he then does something right away that causes his partner to instantly give in. Bro could just breathe and they're like "OKAY" and yeah. I understand. I would fold so hard bro.
His love languages include quality time and acts of service. He loves spending every single second with his partner and is immediately angry at the world when he has to work overtime and can not have more time with them. He enjoys taking them on dates or simply staying at home on lazy days. He loves spending time with them. Furthermore, he expresses his love by doing things for his partner, such as assisting them with their work (if he could), giving them massages when they are stressed, cooking for them all the time, washing their dishes even when they beg him not to, eating the olives off of their plate if there are any... He is the king of acts of service.
He is not good at taking pictures. His large thumb keeps covering the lens, so they have to force him to take the pictures repeatedly. Despite this, he never becomes irritated because he gets butterflies just watching his partner pose in their gorgeous clothes.
Speaking of photos, he already had an Instagram account beforehand. (As much as he hates to admit it, Gojo is sometimes the one who takes the aesthetic photos on his page.) He was not active, but he has a few posts on it, but as soon as they got a partner, oh lord Jesus. Bro will post on his Instagram story every single second.
Even though this happens, he prefers to make his relationship private. Private but known, you know? He wants the world to know that he is lucky enough to date them, but still not reveal information or talk about his relationship to anyone. So he would take those private but not secret type relationship photos.
Captions are always complimenting them and are extremely poetic. He's just that guy.
"saw a breathtaking sight. the beach is also there."
“every aspect of you captivates me, body and soul.”
"we are all floating around with the stars and the universe, and it somehow led me to you."
cringes again
Off-topic but not, Nanami would NEVER, and I mean... NEVER, go for his student if he was a professor, even if their relationship is legal. I can't stand it when people do that. He understands that there's a power dynamic behind it and it's low-key creepy how much people enjoy it.
Along with stepcest. Why do so many of you like stepcest? Nanami is not touching any of his family members. I'm scared to say this and this is probably hella controversial for this app but he's not touching anyone even if they're not technically related.
Age gap too. He would not date someone extremely younger than him. He is not going to be 40 and dating a 19-year-old. I just can't see it.
Other than that, he does not have any preferences when it comes to appearance. He has turn-offs, but not in terms of appearance. He could care less about what someone looks like.
In terms of personality, he dislikes negative people. He despises that. He would feel guilty if he became involved with someone unconcerned about the world. He also dislikes immaturity and pettiness.
He prefers people who bring positivity into his life, you know? Someone much more outgoing than he is, but still a mature person with whom he could relate. The more extroverted they are the more they bring out of him. As long as they're not so overwhelming to him.
Even so, he simply enjoys people for their kindness and consideration. How willing they are, how passionate and motivated they are. He simply wants someone who is driven by their goals.
Texts them dad memes he found on Facebook.
“Look at it, it’s funny.”
“...lol”
“You laughed at least a little bit right?
“...No?”
“Okay. I apologize :(“
LAUGH AT HIS FACEBOOK MEMES PLEASE. THEY ARE NOT THAT BAD PLEASE.
When he met their family, he appeared calm and collected, but he was nervous. He was fidgety on the way to their house, something he had only ever done in high school. He experiences anxiety about whether he would be accepted by them or whether he would be good enough.
“Wow, I have never seen you this fidgety before.”
"I apologize. It’s just… What your family might think worries me. I am not sure if I will meet their expectations. I simply want to let them know how much I genuinely adore you for who you are and how much I want to be yours forever."
And they are like ??? because this man is perfect? He is the dream man anyone could ever ask for.
Do not take this man mini golfing bro he sucks ass… I know you guys think just because he is partly white he will immediately be good at golf but no. He sucks ass.
He would be protective, but not excessively so. He is devoted to his partner and will intervene quickly if someone upsets them, intimidating them with his composed demeanor.
"I advise you to distance yourself from them before I regretfully have to take action, okay? We wouldn’t want that, right?” Dumbledore says, calmly. While puffing out his chest. And mewing. And mogging. Whatever that means.
Okay fine, he will watch Jersey Shore, The Real Housewives, Love & Hip-Hop, etc with them. Pretends to hate it but he is invested.
Imagine just going to the bedroom and just seeing him in his reading glasses, sitting up against the headboard, immersed in the book in front of him. The only thing he has on is a simple white tee that does justice to his figure and pajama pants.
Yup feral.
Tries to get into the things their partner likes just so he can understand when they yap about certain things. He just wants them to talk about everything to him. He finds it adorable.
Allows their partner to give him a skincare treatment. He then begins to do it himself. Well, he would only use one product—a cleanser. That being said, he started using toner, serum, and other skincare products. And, yes, he allows them to put ridiculously cute facemasks on his face. And the cute little star pimple patches.
Do not take that man ice skating or rollerblading either. He would be so hesitant on going because he sucks at it. He just goes because his significant other told him to. He fell immediately.
“This sucks.”
“Stop sulking and hold my hand.”
“...You don’t even need to ask.” He says, all giddy.
Please show him the love and care he deserves.
When he works out he will flex on them on purpose. He thinks it is all funny to be all yummy. It is NOT funny.
Yup, he does push-ups while they’re underneath, each time he goes down he gives them a peck.
Yeah so imagine that with him in his compression shirt and shorts…
I could read your mind, people. You are not slick.
This man will not let his significant other have insecurities. He is the type to leave notes all over the bathroom, and every mirror, with encouraging words. Praising their looks and more. Plus he shows in…other ways (wink) how much he appreciates how beautiful he thinks they are.
If they are unhappy, he will truly be devastated. He is miserable when he sees them upset, so he does everything in his power to cheer them up. Whether that’s cooking something for them, taking care of them, trying to make them laugh, getting them something from the store, or sitting down and talking to them about their problems, he needs to make them feel happy.
When he drives, he would not put his hand on his partner’s thigh. He would much rather grab their hand, and put it on his lap, as he listens to them hum along to the radio. He purposely moves the mirror slightly toward them, just so he can see how pretty they are through the mirror. He also looks at them with a slight smile at every stop-light, occasionally leaving small pecks on their face.
Does not mind if they steal his clothes. Go on then silly. He could care less. He thinks it’s cute as hell.
Would teach them how to do things. For example, he will teach them to play an instrument if they do not already, especially if he knows how. He looks like a lovesick fool as he watches them replicate what he did. Unable to resist the urge, he kisses them without reason.
“What was that for?”
"I could not hold back. You are very tempting."
“Is that a good thing?”
“Yes. You are everything I think about and want."
Butterflies all around people.
His only red flag is that sometimes he may prioritize work over his relationship. He unfortunately gets into the stress of work and begins to grind more at work. Call him out and he gets back into his senses.
Buys more storage space for his Samsung S24 Ultra to retrieve more pictures of them. His camera roll is nearly full. Just because of his significant other, his camera roll increased from roughly 150 images to over 13,000 images.
When he comes home from work, he immediately collapses on the couch or their shared bed, on top of them. He then looks like a sleepy puppy.
“Someone’s tired.”
“I hate overtime.”
“I know you do. I cooked something for you.”
“I could have just cooked for the both of us…”
“But I knew you’d come all tired from work. So no.”
“That doesn't matter, you know? I love taking care of you. Just to see that pretty smile on your face.” He pouts, once again.
He ends up making it up to them. You can interpret that however you want.
As soon as this man sees them in formal attire (or in general) it is OVER. His jaw is on the bottom of the earth, his eyes are slightly widened, a blush on his face.
“I have no words. God, I don't know how someone could get even more impossibly perfect, yet here you are, darling. No matter how many times I see you, you still manage to take my breath away.”
yup heart attack
Prepare for so many compliments daily. He talks like a true romance book. None of that Colleen Hoover stuff.
Talks about his partner like a true gentleman. He's not like those types of guys who just talk about their significant other as if they're his property. No. He talks about them as if they are an art piece.
Overall, he just loves his partner so, so much. He expresses it in a variety of ways, from taking care of them—to telling them every single second of the day. In his own words,
"Your presence in my life is like a breath of fresh air, keeping my heart full and content. I love you more than anyone could ever fathom, and I promise you, you have my heart for eternity."
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i love him </3 NANMINPLEAEE BE RELALRHABADHDJSKDHSNEB
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kayjaywrites · 7 months ago
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Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter One
Summary: Azriel Shadowsinger, mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, was head over heels in love with you for years. Everyone in the room could see it, except for you of course. A series of connected one-shots.
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Chapter Word Count: 6,350 Chapter Music Inspo: End of It - Friday Pilots Club
Chapter Content Warnings: fluff, some cursing, one bed trope, awkward but wholesome communication, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish, reader low key being thirsty for Azzie
Note: Hello! Welcome to my first fic in like 10 years! This idea came about when I was having a hard time falling back asleep. I sometimes draft fanfiction when i'm trying to sleep. I don't often remember the plots come morning, but the memory of this one remained intact enough for me to jot down. I’m thinking this update is gonna be the longest chapter because it's both prologue and the first chapter, but I have terrible self control with word count limits. So I guess we’ll see what the next chapters bring, but they may be shorter!
Enjoy me 2am fugue state musings, there are likely typos~
XxXx
Prologue
It was all worth it. The decades of patience and silent suffering. The centuries of loneliness paying off just as you lost hope of ever leaving The Court of Nightmares. You and your father, Kier, expected a typical visit from the Inner Circle. The High Lord would threaten your father to keep him in line, you’d go unnoticed in the back of the throne room monitoring the interaction. Just like every other time they visited.
Except, the High Lord and his Inner Circle asked about you like you were the reason behind their visit. You had clocked the visit as odd as soon as only Rhysand, Feyre, and Mor arrived. The absence of both The General & Shadowsinger at the same time a rarity. Despite being related to Rhysand and Mor, you didn’t think they knew your name, so when they asked Kier about you, by name, your heart damn near fell out of your ass.
They wanted you to leave Hewn City to work with them. A Courtier of the Night Court, working alongside Nesta, Lady Death herself, of all people. They wanted you to start immediately now that the war with Hybern was over. Relations between Courts were strained, and upon learning of your talent, the High Lord deemed it a waste for you to be hidden away down here. He and the Inner Circle believed you did not belong in The Court of Nightmares. To anyone else, having the High Lord speak so highly of your child would have been an honor.
It was the most furious you’d ever seen Kier. Which was saying something. His emotions grew volatile in a blink of an eye, outraged by the absolute gall of the High Lord. How dare he come to his city and tell him that you weren’t meeting your full potential down here? At some point Kier stood up, snarling at Rhysand and the others like a wild animal. Kier, so lost in his anger, let his mental shields falter. Just for a second, but it was more than enough time for your powers to draw his wayward thoughts to you, like a magnet, his unspoken intentions seeped into your own mind. You were always terrible at blocking him out when he got like that.
Power. Kier's thoughts whispered to you. A spy for him in the Inner Circle.
It disgusted you how predictable your father was, his intentions were always about how he could best use you for his own gain. It was the driving force behind your excessive training habits, desperate to protect yourself from the toxicity of his intentions. The more you failed at keeping him out, the more you hated him, and by default hated yourself.
Rhysand was right, you were wasted down here, and it wasn’t that your father didn’t see that, he didn’t care. He wasn’t furious with the High Lord for taking another daughter away from him, he was mad about losing a tool.
Well, your father could rot down here alone for all you cared.
You felt a lot of things in that moment. Intimidated by the prospect of working with Nesta, unsure of Mor’s morals and the rumors surrounding her, apprehensive of Rhysand and Feyre’s power, and not to mention all the unknown dynamics between the rest of the Inner Circle. But, despite all that uncertainty, you did not feel nervous about leaving Hewn City with them.
The first task Kier ever appointed you was to report on Rhysand and his Inner Circle’s intentions every time they visited. Either they all had flawless control over their mental shields, or their icy behavior was an act from the beginning. You never dared to share your suspicions with Kier, your father only wanted ammo for his hate, and he never took kindly to evidence that didn’t support his biases against High Lord Rhysand.
It felt a little too much like blind faith and a hunch for you to be 100% comfortable with the decision, but you decided to put your trust in these strangers anyway.
You would take the job.
Not to be a spy for Kier.
Not out of some duty to your High Lord or older sister.
It was time to live your life for you. Consequences be damned.
But, the focus of this story was not about moving to Velaris with Mor and getting to know the Inner Circle. It wasn’t about how much you rock as a diplomat for the Night Court. It wasn’t about how good it felt the first time sunlight touched your skin upon leaving the underground city. It wasn’t even about how you and Nesta became best friends. However good those stories may be.
However, this story is about Azriel Shadowsinger, and how the mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, fell head over heels for you without you ever picking up on it. Yeah, that’s right, the girl who struggled to control her talent for hearing unspoken intentions never puzzled the pieces together. For literal years everyone else in the godforsaken room could tell the Spymaster was in love with you, except for you.
...one year and a couple months later....
It all started with an argument with Rhysand a few assignments into your career as the Night Court Courtier. You felt like you could handle traveling between Courts without needing an escort, especially if you’d be meeting up with Nesta at the destination anyway. Rhysand did not agree, basically threatening to ground you if you didn’t allow someone to accompany you.
That was how Azriel had become your full-time travel partner. Rhysand appointed Azriel as an additional escort in case Nesta was pulled away.
You’d take this to your grave before ever admitting it, but Rhysand wasn’t wrong to be worried. There had been a good number of times where just that had happened. Nesta would be working the other side of the room, and having Azriel lingering nearby eased your nerves. Prythian was a vast Realm, and Rhys had been right in worrying about your adjustment.
It didn’t take too long for you to adapt once you had visited all the different Courts a few times. Yet, Azriel continued to go out of his way to accompany you to events. The first obvious sign of his affections for you came a little over a year into your career.
The event was in a small Day Court town on the border of the Night Court, just under a day’s travel from Velaris on foot. Home to one of the libraries hit hardest by Amarantha’s looting, the entire town was celebrating the return of a sizable chunk of the stolen volumes. The gala was advertised to be a quaint dinner and cocktail hour. You suspected that scholars and book enthusiasts would be the bulk of those present. Although interested in going, Rhysand had High Lord duties to attend to that involved Nesta and the other Archeron sisters in the Summer Court. With a promise to fill everyone in on anything of interest, you packed a small overnight bag and waited for Mor to arrive home. You never developed the ability to winnow, so you needed someone to bring you.
Fussing with your hair in one of the numerous mirrors decorating Mor’s walls, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. Your time in Velaris, just over two years, had already begun to sooth a deep sadness you hadn’t realized had settled under your skin. It was obvious in the gentle way you gazed at your reflection, the healthy flush of your cheeks, and the warmth of your thoughts. Velaris looked good on you, and as you smoothed a hand down the shimmery sapphire blue fabric of the dress that clung to your curves, you thought the new formalwear looked good on you too.
Giddiness bubbled up in you at the idea of modeling the new dress for Mor. The excitement felt foreign still, after spending centuries believing Mor didn’t care to know her own little sister. You never thought you’d ever get the chance to gush over dresses with her. Kier hated everything Mor represented, and was cruel to her in ways that made you feel lucky in a perverse way. Your father may have manipulated and alienated you, filling your head with lies about your older sister, but it was never public. Kier made sure everyone in the Court of Nightmares knew that Mor was a useless whore and a traitor.
When Mor became a core member of the Inner Circle, and Rhysand put her in charge of Hewn City, you would wait for her to acknowledge you during her visits. Decades turned into a century, but the same hope would always rise up when Mor was due for a visit, only to be crushed when she ignored you. She never paid you a second of her time, just a fleeting look in passing as if you were another spectator. Knowing that she wasn’t ignoring you out of ill intent stung more, because you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her.
Kier may be your father, but that didn’t mean you had to be a fan of his intentions. You never believe the rumors he spread about Mor.
And then, the big reveal came. It turned out that to Mor, you were just another spectator. Mor didn’t know she had a younger sister at all. Keir hid you so well that no one realized you were related to him. A detail that made you feel so small when it came to light. You were just the shy woman in the background, taught to be pleasant when spoken to, a pretty little wallflower the rest of the time.
Later, when you asked about who first realized your identity, you got mixed accounts from the Inner Circle. Rhysand insisted that it was he who put the pieces together first. Stating that it came to him suddenly after Azriel submitted a report from a surveillance mission detailing an overheard conversation between you and Kier about your talents. Rhysand claimed that your powers reminded him of a variation of Mor’s. The rest of the Inner Circle credited Feyre for noting the resemblance between you, Kier, and The Morrigan the first time she noticed you loitering at the back of a council meeting.
When the truth was confirmed, and you agreed to go with them, Mor wept. She vowed to never leave you alone in The Court of Nightmares ever again, even for a second. That promise was your first experience with making a deal in the Night Court. Your clear surprise at the intricate tattoo that branded itself over the center of your sternum clued Mor, Rhysand, and Feyre in on how out of touch you were with common lore from your own Court. Mor wasted no time in winnowing you out of there after that. The both of you had heard enough of Keir’s nasty sneers and low-blow comments to last a lifetime.
Now, Mor’s cozy little home was also your cozy little home, if not a bit tight for two people. If someone asked you a decade ago if you thought you’d ever have a relationship with Mor you would advise them to seek out a healer.
And yet there you were, vibrating with things to tell her, anticipating her arrival with an almost goofy grin when…Azriel of all people winnowed into the living room.
Perplexed, but not totally disappointed, “Oh!” you said, clearly taken aback. “I was expecting Mor.”
Azriel huffed a low chuckle, dimples bracketing his amused half-smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”
You looked him over, dark circles under his eyes, droopy eyelids, posture leaning forward in a slight slouch. “Az, didn’t you just return from a long mission? Why aren’t you resting?”
“Wanted to escort you to the Day Court Library Gala, of course.”
The tenderness in his voice had warmth bubbling up from your chest. “That is very kind,” you started, making sure to meet his gaze so he knew you meant it, “but you look so tired, Az. I’ve visited the Day Court a bunch of times now and only need someone to winnow me there. As much as I enjoy having you accompany me to these things, I don’t want you to stretch yourself thin on my account. I’ve got this.”
“I know you’ve got this,” came his immediate reply, “as you’ve pointed out I’ve been gone for a few weeks. What if I offered to escort you because I missed you, hm?”
Despite yourself you felt a flush of heat in your cheeks at his teasing. You refused to use your powers on anyone in the inner circle, unwilling to violate their privacy without explicit consent. But you didn’t need your powers to read Azriel’s sincerity. It made it hard to meet his gaze, you turned back to running your fingers through your hair in the mirror, taking a moment to compose yourself. “Well alright then, I don’t think I can do anything more to tame my hair, we should be off then.”
You felt Azriel at your back, a gloved hand coming up to gently grasp your elbow, guiding your arm down as his hand trailed down the bare skin of your forearm to hold yours, turning you to face him. “Stop fussing, you look stunning, this dress is new, right? I think the color suits you.”
You smiled. “Thank you, I suppose you would like this color, now that I’m thinking about it,” with your free hand you held up the skirt of the floor length dress to the siphon on his wrist, marveling at the color match, “it looks like I did it on purpose.”
He hummed in acknowledgement as he pulled you closer into an almost embrace. “We should go now. Wouldn’t want to miss the opening speeches.”
You suppressed a shudder. Definitely from the way his breath tickled your ear, and not from the way his voice sounded as he tucked you into his chest. “You hate opening speeches.” You pointed out, remembering all the times he complained about how boring they were.
“I do, but you like them.” You’d never said as much aloud, but you did enjoy listening to people talk about things they were passionate about, and opening speeches tended to be just that. Of course the Spymaster had noticed.
If Azriel saw your smile before you hid your face against his leather-clad pec he didn’t let on. You pulled your hands free and looped your arms around his middle, clasping your fingers together under the base of his wings.
“I’m ready then, thank you for coming with me.” Your voice was muffled, unwilling to tilt your head up to talk to him in case your maddening blush was there. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you winnowed with Az, your whole face would go cherry red. Something Cassian never failed to poke fun at whenever he witnessed it.
Azriel wrapped his arms tightly around you, your body now flush to his. You focused on the sound of his wings rustling as he tucked them in closer. Anything to distract from the way your pulse spiked when you felt his lips brush against the crown of your head, his hold on you gentle, yet firm and protective as darkness folded around the both of you.
XxXx
Neither you nor Azriel realized the issue with your room reservation until much too late. Upon arrival in The Day Court the both of you hurried to the event. The gala wrapped up around midnight, and like most of the other guests staying in town, you and Azriel retired back to the nearby Inn. With your strappy heels in hand and a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, you felt positively bubbly. Paused in front of your room, you let Azriel rummage through the small black purse at your side for the key. After almost leading them into the wrong room, Azriel took it upon himself to find the correct room and unlock the door.
Minutes later you were still trying to suppress a smile at how Azriel reacted with such mortification when he realized you’d led them to the wrong room. The mental image of the great Shadowsinger so frantic in his efforts to stop you from further jostling the doorknob, had you letting out a laugh before you could stop it.
“It’s not funny.” He grumbled as he swung the wooden door to your room open, leading you inside. You were on the verge of poking fun at him some more when you caught a glimpse of the interior layout. Right, you had RSVP’d expecting to attend the gala alone. The realization sobered you up real fast.
The room was small, burgundy curtains concealing a sizable window, antique desk with tourist flyers stacked in a neat pile on top. A queen sized, four post bed situated in the middle of the room.
“I’ll take the floor—” Azriel started saying.
But you interrupted him. “—you should have the bed.”
“Absolutely not, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady sleep on the floor while I hogged the whole bed.” He nodded, as if the conversation was over, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at him.
“There’s not even enough space on the floor for you to stretch out Az. The room is basically only bed. It’s fine, I can use my extra clothes—”
You inhaled sharply, tensing at the thought of your overnight bag, left forgotten back at Mor's apartment. Your eyes darted to Azriel, meeting his gaze out of the corner of your eye, and you knew you didn’t need to say anything about it as he scoffed under his breath.
“You forgot your bag.” He observed.
Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair, your tight dress feeling like it was constricting around your chest as you contemplated sleeping in it. “I did indeed forget my bag.”
“We could just go back, we don’t have to stay here for the night.” Azriel pointed out, but the thought of cutting the trip short caused a ripple of disappointment to drop in your stomach.
“Or,” he continued with a hint of amusement, “I have an undershirt beneath my leathers. I changed before I met you at Mor’s, so it’s relatively clean. I was going to sleep in it tonight, but I would sacrifice my shirt for you if it meant you’d stop frowning like that.”
If you thought you were anxious before, Azriel’s suggestion sent your anxiety through the roof. You had always found Azriel attractive, even when you were still living in Hewn City. Who wouldn’t? That attraction grew into a bit of a crush when you first arrived in Velaris. He treated you with such care as you adjusted to living above ground, quiet, patient, and thoughtful.
Once it was apparent that you would be working closely with him you shut that shit down. You and him had spent a lot of time traveling together the last few years, always with separate sleeping arrangements, and never sharing clothing. You went out of your way to respect his privacy, give him space, all in hopes of being someone he one day could trust, like how you trusted him.
You could handle one night, sharing a bed, borrowing his shirt. That wouldn’t totally backfire on you in any way, right? Nodding to yourself once, you tried for an air of confidence as you talked around the nerves that have bloomed in your chest.
“Okay,” you agreed, “but if I change into your shirt you definitely can’t take the floor. I won’t let you sleep shirtless on the ground while I’m all tucked in and cozy in bed. I’ll only take up a sliver of it by myself anyway.”
He opened his mouth to object, his intentions written in the way his brow furrowed at you. But you barreled on anyway, “So, we share the bed tonight. Are you comfortable with that?”
His mouth snapped shut, eyes studying you for a tense moment as if you may be tricking him. You clasped your hands together in front of you, the longer you waited for him to respond the clammier your palms felt. Each second felt like an eternity and in no time at all you found yourself scrambling for a way to play off your idea as a joke.
Of course he wouldn’t want to share a bed with you. What in the world had you been thinking?
Maybe you could blame it on that deliciously fizzy drink you downed before leaving the gala, say you weren’t in your right mind. Pretend to not remember in the morning, as if this wasn’t going to be a moment you cringe about decades later. Would you be able to just laugh it off? Would Azriel be chill enough to let you live this down? You were probably so screwed.
He was still a little tense, but just before your panic truly took root Azriel began to nod his head like he...agreed with you?
“Yes, I think that is the most logical solution. The bed can definitely fit two.” Azriel finally said, and you tried to keep yourself from gaping at his response. But your surprise must have been all over your face because he went on to say, “I didn’t suggest it myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Wiping your hands down the front of your dress did little to help with the sweat. The pit that had been taking form in your stomach churned, your dread morphing into jittery nerves.
Then, as if you weren’t having a nervous breakdown right in front of him, the handsome lunatic started striping his leathers off. Dept hands tossing his gloves to the desk, he unclasped the chest pieces of his leathers, they fell to the floor with a thud. Then, the promised black undershirt was up over his head, and you were drinking in all his tattoos and corded muscles like you were a tactless teenager instead of a 300+ year old female.
A flash of movement from him, and you flinched when his shirt hit you square in the face. It was so big it draped over your head. You made a disgruntled noise, ignoring how delicious the shirt smelled as you removed it from your face, “Hey—!”
“If you’re done gawking at me like you’ve never seen a shirtless male, you can get ready for bed first.” He headed further into the room, collecting his chest piece off the floor and approaching the desk to place it with his gloves. He turned to face you, his butt propped against the desk as he gestured to the door his wingspan had been blocking from view. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, flexing his biceps, and you almost swooned at the sight. He knew exactly what he was doing.
Your fist tightened around the shirt, fighting the urge to toss it back at him out of spite. Embarrassment felt like hot iron under your skin, so instead you snapped your attention to the door he had pointed out–the bathroom. You knew you’d averted your gaze much too fast to seem unaffected by him. He chuckled, and you glowered at him as his head tilted to the side, watching you with a bemused expression. He looked about ready to comment further, but you waved him off with faux-annoyance and an exaggerated roll of your eyes. Clutching his shirt close to your chest, you escaped into the bathroom.
Subtle.
Pressing your back to the door, it closed under your weight. You paused there for a moment to focus on your breathing, your frazzled mind going a mile a minute. This was all so far out of your comfort zone, it wasn’t even funny. You never had to deal with handsome males in The Court of Nightmares, Kier didn’t let you socialize long enough for it to even be on your radar. Dating hadn’t quite made your list of top priorities upon arriving in Velaris either.
What little experience you did have was with a male named Allistair. You’d met him at Rita’s within your first year above ground. It was a fling of sorts that lasted a few months before you decided casual dating wasn’t for you. He was a perfectly adequate lover. At least you think he was. He was also your only lover. A nice enough companion as you acclimated to your new life. The times you had been intimate with that male had left you feeling…bereft. Seeing Allistair shirtless had been nothing like seeing Azriel shirtless.
And Azriel calling you out for ogling him so blatantly? Mother have mercy.
So now you were just expected to fall asleep next to him wearing his shirt after that? The situation almost made you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The last thing you wanted was to draw his suspicion by loitering against the door for too much longer, so you moved to the sink. Maybe splashing lukewarm water on your face would reveal that this had all been a weird ass nightmare.
Cupping water into your face a couple more times, you took in the smeared makeup dripping down your face in the mirror. Definitely not a dream.
Azriel was going to think you were in love with him for fucksake.
Snatching the nearby hand towel from the rack on the wall you soaked it, and got to work on scrubbing your face clean. You had to have a little more faith in Azriel. He wouldn’t let a single weird moment ruin over a year of amicable teamwork. But your personal relationship with him felt fragile to you at best. You can't let some tattoos and abs mess up what you considered to be the most solid friendship you’d made among the Inner Circle.
So what if he was hot as hell? You could co-exist with attractive people, it was legit a part of your job. You could salvage the situation, just change out of the dress you accidentally matched to the colors of his siphons, put his shirt on that smelled so strongly of him it gave you a headrush, and face him like you hadn't just been drooling over his naked chest.
You know, simple.
The hem of his t-shirt landed just above your knees, and the comfort you found in it was criminal. The black fabric was very soft and so baggy that you worried the wing slits in the back would shift forward in your sleep. It could reveal a little more than what you’d considered 'tasteful side boob'.
Resisting the urge to fuss in the mirror (because it wasn't like you were trying to look cute for anyone, right?), you exited the bathroom clean faced and a bit more settled than when you had entered.
Your bravado, however, was short lived. Azriel faced away from you in only his underwear, the rest of his leathers added to the pile on the desk. He was organizing his various knives on the bedside table closest to the main door.
He looked over his shoulder at you. Totally not catching you checking out his butt in the tight underpants. Cauldron boil you. Would it be weird if you marched yourself back into the bathroom to try the whole “not affected by sexy, almost nude Illyrian warrior” thing again?
Azriel inhaled sharply, and you snuck a glance at him. His attention was back on his knives, but there was a tension to him, almost like he was brooding. There might have been a light blush over his cheeks, but you felt weird analyzing him anymore than you already had out of habit. You clocked the change in his body language for what it was the instant he saw you in his shirt. Clenched jaw, tense shoulders, spine ramrod straight, wide eyed before averting his gaze, elevated heart rate–classic signs of attraction. Reactions he clearly didn’t want you to notice.
"I'm taking this side." He informed almost absently, patting the mattress. Leaving you with the window side.
You wandered to the desk to avoid observing him further, wishing that you could turn off the part of you that always seemed to be prying for more information. And then you felt it, his thoughts getting louder, his emotions growing wilder, reaching out to you. You slammed your mental shields up hard, a gross feeling taking root when it was too late.
Protect. Azriel’s intentions conveyed to you. Protect. Comfort. Provide. Here you were invading his private thoughts without his knowledge, while he was concerned with your wellbeing. What was the point of all that effort Rhysand put into teaching you how to better control your mental shields? It never worked when you needed it most. The failure stung, and you had to busy yourself with folding your dress in a neat square so you had something to keep your hands from shaking.
It was quiet for too long, and you struggled with recalling what he had said to you before you’d lost control. Something about the bed. "Sounds good to me." You decide on saying, placing your dress next to his leathers.
Azriel didn’t seem to find your reply out of the ordinary. Small mercies.
"I'll be out in a few minutes, then." His voice was rougher than before, and it sent chills down your spine. As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut you scurried into bed. You couldn’t get under the covers fast enough, pulling the blankets up to your neck with a hefty sigh of relief.
It felt awesome to be laying down after such a long evening on your feet. Too bad you couldn’t enjoy it more, instead drowning under waves of shame. Maybe you’d never get a full handle on your powers. Maybe the Mother was teaching you a lesson in this life? You couldn’t fathom what the moral could be. You wanted more than anything to be able to mind your business.
You wished you could turn your brain off. Alas, even your guilt couldn’t stop you from reflecting and organizing what you’d just observed. Not only had you heard his intentions, but you also felt them. Unlike the sweet warmth of his thoughts, his gaze had felt like desire and bad decisions.
He didn’t seem like he was actively seeking to bed you. You reasoned that you were also an available female wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. You could only imagine how all of that must have chafed against his Illyrian instincts. Rhysand had once mentioned that Illyrians were possessive and protective at best, controlling and jealous at their worst.
Surely those possessive instincts were what you were picking up on, then. You were covered in his scent after all. That was the only logical explanation for his reaction, his instincts were telling him to protect you because you were vulnerable and wearing his clothing. Even if it didn’t quite sound right to you, it was the only explanation you were willing to entertain. You were barely friends, there was no way Azriel wanted to court you. The thought sent a fleeting pang of disappointment through you that you refused to examine.
Whatever. There wasn’t anything you could do to make the situation less messy right now. You were exhausted, and stewing on scenarios that would never amount to anything real was unlike you.
Snuggling further into the sheets, you decided it was best to just pretend you hadn’t noticed shit. The damage was done, Azriel wasn’t dumb, he at least knew he had flustered you. You weren’t going to draw any more attention to that tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Everything about this night was a fluke.
Azriel returned from the bathroom, and you kept your focus on fluffing your pillows. Sitting up you tossed an extra pillow onto the floor, and you could feel as soon as his eyes landed on you that some of his…instincts…were still acting up. You pulled the comforter back up to your neck as he got into bed next to you. Turning on your side to face him you were determined to be normal. No more awkward gawking allowed tonight.
He stretched his arms up above his head, his joints popping a million times as he groaned in relief. You couldn't help chuckling at him, the fearsome Shadowsinger of the Night Court, doing something so mundane.
Scooting further onto the bed, Azriel rolled over to meet your gaze, his wings tucked close to his back as he settled. Most of his wingspan spilled over the side of the bed anyway. He surveyed you, eyes lingering along your tired but genuine smile, and you saw the stern tenseness slowly leave his body. "You sure you're comfortable with this?" He asked.
Your smile turned a tad warmer. This male was just so kind, so different from what you knew in Hewn City. "I am, I trust you Azriel." It was the truth. You didn't have friends growing up, and although you may have a long way to go before Azriel truly called you his friend, you considered him a dear (sexy) friend.
Your words seem to settle something in him, and you could have sworn you saw something almost affectionate flash across his face. You blink, and it's gone, but the fuzzy feeling it left in your chest remained.
Like he sensed your mushy thoughts, he ruined the moment. "So I have to ask you something, it’s serious.”
Your brows raised in bemused interest, the scenario with him wishing to court you snapping to the forefront of your mind again. He’d always been very attentive to you, but in a worried protective way. You’d never picked up on any romantic intentions from him before, and he’s not the type to make a decision like that on a whim. The chance was small, but you couldn’t 100% rule out him wanting to ask you out. Could you say no to him? Would you even want to say no? You’d never considered this as an option before!
He held your gaze, as if for dramatic effect and then with the seriousness of a top notch spymaster he asked you, “You have seen a shirtless male before...right?"
Maybe it was a mistake to consider this male kind, he was a menace all along.
You had never rolled your eyes so hard at someone. Unbelievable.
Turning away from him with enough force to toss your hair in his face, you are rewarded with the sound of his indignant grunt.
"Can you turn the light off please?" You snap, unable to rein in your annoyance. Unsettled by how it tasted almost like rejection.
"You didn't answer my question." He goaded, and you fell right for it.
"Yeah, because it's a silly question." You fire back.
He hummed at your response, "Doesn't seem like you think it's a silly question."
You would rather swallow your own tongue than admit to Azriel that you’d seen shirtless males, but he had been the first you’d enjoyed seeing shirtless.
Done with the line of questioning, you blindly flung your arm back, swatting at him. He startled at the contact, and he exhaled a scoff when you didn't stop flopping your arm at him after the first blow.
He caught your wrist, stilling your flailing. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it," He let go of your wrist, “for now.”
You shifted to burrow further into your pillows, totally not dwelling on how his big hand wrapped around your wrist made you feel dainty. The texture of his scars hadn’t made your heart skip a beat either. Nope. Not at all.
"Could you shut the light off please." You asked again with more venom than you intended. It bothered you how easy this male could get under your skin. He wasn’t even trying.
You felt his weight shifting, the bed frame squeaking a bit as he moved. "Anything for you, Princess." He shuffled a little more, and then the light went off, casting the both of you in darkness.
The nickname made you grimace into your pillow. No one had ever called you that before, and you really didn’t want it to catch on.
You felt him return to the position on his side facing you. Some moments passed in loud silence, and although you were the one that let the conversation drop, the residual tension in the room was killing you. There was no way you would be able to fall asleep, and you would bet that Azriel was stewing in the tension too.
"Az?" You whispered. His response was quick like he’d been waiting on edge for you to speak, "Yes?"
"Goodnight." And you found yourself meaning it. You hoped he got some sleep tonight despite the turmoil he had so effortlessly sowed in your stomach with his teasing. The prick.
You could practically hear the mischief in his voice. "Sleep well, princess."
Ugh. Your stomach coiled, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Very dangerous. It was an inappropriate reaction, and you wrote it off as stress. However as hard as you wished to forget it, you wouldn’t be forgetting how Azriel had made you feel that night anytime soon.
Even your racing thoughts couldn’t stop sleep from finding you, putting you out of your misery.
And if you woke up to the sounds of song birds that morning, your face pressed against Azriel's neck, your body sprawled atop him while he slept on his back, then that was your business. No one would know if you relished being in his arms a few minutes longer than necessary. You wouldn’t confirm nor deny if one of his hands had looped through a wing hole of his borrowed shirt, his fingers resting just under your breast.
And so what if it had been the best sleep you'd gotten since leaving Hewn City. And if Azriel seemed more well rested than usual on your return to the Night Court, you certainly didn't notice that either.
XxXx
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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 7 months ago
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Chapter 8: Jealousy Doesn't Look Good On Anybody Except...
Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV
Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter eight of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)
Word Count: 4.1K
Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (a few times), Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,
Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!
The song they dance to is "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" by Russ Columbo and this should take you to the song. It's the song I named the series for, because I believe it encompasses how both the reader feels, but also how Soldier Boy will feel in a few chapters. I also believe that the song House of Memories by Panic at the Disco, fits the more modern parts of the series.
Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics
Series Masterlist
Main Masterlist
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Philadelphia 1938
The lights twinkled along the ceiling of the dance hall as the gentle swell of jazz floated through the air. Couples swayed on the dance floor clinging to one another as the soft tones of the music soothed the dull throb of the whispers of rising tension overseas. It was a Saturday night, and you and a few of your friends from the Dawson School for Girls had slipped away to spend the evening twirling in the arms of whomever caught your fancy.
Well, at least that's what your friends wanted to do. There was only one particular man who'd caught your fancy, but he was nowhere to be seen.
The Dawson School for Girls was the answer to your mother's prayers, a boarding school in Boston, far away from Ben's "corruptive influence" as she put it. Ben was currently at boarding school number ten in Upstate New York. The last time you’d seen him was when you were on break and Ben had just left boarding school number nine for fighting with other students, but he wouldn't say what for. You’d sent him a few letters to tell him how bored you were including a few sketches and watercolor paintings, with minimal response, but it was like him not to write back.
You hadn't mentioned that Howard Stine had been coming on the weekends to take you out. Your mother was pleased with him, he checked all the boxes: wealthy, not Ben, educated, not Ben, from a nice family, not Ben, and of course most importantly, not Ben.
She was practically making wedding invitations and choosing the names of your children after only three months. However, it was nice to see her happy for a change, kept her from sniping at your figure now that someone was interested. Well, not sniping that much.
Howard was… nice, but he was one of the most boring people you'd ever met and he never understood why you always carried a sketchbook with you. When he'd taken you to Franklin Park one weekend, you stopped along the pond to sketch some of the ducks that were waddling on the bank, but Howard told you he didn’t have time to wait for you to draw them. Instead of telling him that he could just leave, you shut the sketchpad and continued to walk with him and quickly learned that it was better to leave your sketchpad at the dorm whenever he was in town. You also found yourself talking less and less, allowing him to fill the silence with his talk of the stock market crash and how the United States economy recovered due to the efforts of President FDR.
You hated that. You didn't recognize yourself when you were with him. You didn't feel like you.
And every time he was here all you could do was compare him to Ben. Ben would never tell you to stop drawing, yes he would tease you about it, but he always sat next to you while you were sketching, watching you work. You never understood that. Ben was so impatient with everyone else, but he was willing to sit with you for any inordinate amount of time if you were drawing while making you laugh the whole time.
I miss him so much.
"Can I get you a drink?" Howard puts his hand on the small of your back, leaning in to whisper in your ear. You try not to flinch at his touch. He had already been in town, walking you home from a dinner that was dominated by awkward silence and the clicking of utensils on plates when you'd run into your friends just as he was walking you back to the dorm. They had rounded the corner giggling and begging you to come with them. Despite your insistences for him to stay in and relax for the night at his hotel, he refused.
It meant that now you were stuck with him while all your friends got to twirl around with men that made them warm and giddy. Howard made you feel like you'd swallowed a lemon.
"I'm fine, but thank you." You force a smile.
Howard shrugs, before he walks away towards the crowded bar on the other side of the room and blessedly far away from you.
Your thoughts drifted to Ben. You missed your friend more than words could comprehend. Not just because you were far from your family in another city, but because it felt like you were missing apart of yourself when he wasn't there. You briefly wonder if he felt the same way when he wasn't with you.
Probably not.
You turn away from Howard's retreating figure, to watch the couples on the dance floor. You sway to the music, holding your arms around yourself and feeling your dark green dress swish around your ankles, one that you'd picked out yourself, not a monstrosity of pink tulle, but something that you believed accentuated the natural curves of your body that your mother used other dresses to hide. Your mouth turns down into a frown remembering how Howard had reacted to seeing you in it, when he tried to give you his jacket to cover up, but you refused.
You had wanted him to be stunned by how you looked in it, or at least, wanted someone to be. The same someone that was miles away and probably tickling the skirt of someone who caught his fancy.
"One of the most attractive men I've ever seen in my life is at the bar." Your friend Pearl stated looking behind you with wide eyes.
I've got you beat. You think to yourself to a sigh, wishing, again, that you were here with Ben instead of Howard.
"Very funny." You roll your eyes, thinking that she’s making fun of where Howard is sitting probably flagging down the bartender with both hands to catch his attention.
"I'm not talking about Howard. This guy is seriously a looker. And he's staring at you." Pearl says again.
"Sure." You continue to watch an elderly couple sway back and forth to the smooth jazz that ebbs from the band on stage.
Must be nice to be with someone for that long.
You watch how effortlessly the couple moves as one, how the man stares down at the woman with more love than you can comprehend. It makes your heart sink in your chest.
The way things were panning out, you were going to end up with Howard and you couldn't imagine looking at anyone like that other than Ben.
"You're about to see, because he's coming this way." Pearl takes a step back from you as if anticipating the stranger interrupting your conversation.
"He's not-" You begin to say, but you feel someone place their hand on the small of your back, turning you towards them.
"Fancy meeting you here." Ben smiles down at you, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.
"Ben!" Your heart soars when you recognize your friend and you can't help but hug him so tight he laughs, the movement of his chuckle makes you feel alive for the first time in weeks. The sharp smell of whiskey and the familiar spicy scent of his cologne greets you.
"Guess you missed me." The rumble of his voice vibrates where your cheek rests against his chest.
"I did." You pull away from him reluctantly. "What are you doing here?" You can't help but smile at him, probably wider than what was attractive.
"Thought I'd stop by and visit on my way back to Philadelphia. Saw you walk into this place. " Ben shrugs. "What are you doing out so late?"
"Looking for trouble." You smirk.
"You found him sweetheart." Ben leans down towards you making your throat get unusually tight.
"Hi." Pearl says interrupting the conversation.
 Ben turns his smug smile on her. "Hi."
"I'm Pearl." She looks from you to Ben as if trying to decide that it's okay for her to introduce yourself.
"Benjamin." You watch him slip into the cool and smooth Ben, the one that charmed whomever caught his eye.
You can't help but feel a prick of jealousy against your skin. It was familiar, but every time it happened, it didn't make any of this easier. You knew that you shouldn't be jealous, you didn't have a claim on him, you were friends, just friends, only friends, best friends…
And now you were with Howard.
You let out a soft sigh watching the way that Pearl looks up at Ben and the way he leans towards her with the confident smirk you love so much on his face.
"Would you like to dance Benjamin?" She asks.
"I would." Ben's smirk turns into a smile.
Pearl steps forward to reach for his hand, expecting him to take it, but he doesnt.
"Come on sweetheart." Ben reaches out and takes your hand, twirling you ahead of him onto the dance floor.
"Ben-" You giggle, head spinning with the movement, but when he twirls you back into his chest, you feel your breath catch. This wasn't the first time you'd been pressed up against him and it wasn't the first time you recognized how perfectly you fit together. Your soft curves molding against the hardness of his muscles as you sway back and forth to the music. When you were pressed up against him, you didn't feel like you were too big, you felt perfect, because of the way you fit against him.
"You know I am here with someone-" You say, before you get too wrapped up in how good it feels to be with him.
"Yes. Howard Stine. Though I do believe you said he stepped on your toes." Ben smiles at you, eyes twinkling in the light.
"That was four years ago, and he's… sweet?"
"Hmph." Ben rolls his eyes. "You can't even say it with a straight face sweetheart."
"I have never said anything bad about your companions."
"Missy-"
"Besides her." You frown.
He laughs at your reaction, the hand clutched in your right seems to warm with his smile. "You've never said anything about them period."
Because I hate thinking about how many of them there have been. Because I hate that you don't see me as someone who could be with you.
"I try not to dwell on your numerous escapades."
"You sound a little jealous doll." He smirks at you.
"What was that you were saying about Howard again?" You tease, holding on to his shoulders as you sway back and forth to the music.
"Can't be jealous of someone I've seen get chased by a duck." Ben's eyes trace your body for a moment. Your cheeks blush under his gaze. "You look nice. Not one of your mom's I'm guessing?"
"What makes you say that?"
"You don't look like a cupcake." He spins you away one more time before bringing you back into his chest.
"No. I think she'd probably have an aneurysm if she saw me wearing this. Howard also thought it was a bit much-"
Ben's hand tightens on your waist. "What?"
You shrug, leveling your eyes on his chest to distract yourself from his hand placement. "He tried to get me to wear his coat."
"He what?"
You shake your head to dissipate the self-doubt and body-shaming conversation that was about to unfold in your head.
"It's nothing." You raise your gaze back to his, but you're surprised to see the anger that burns behind his green eyes.
"It's not nothing. He had no right to-"
"Ben." You soothe, rubbing your thumb over his shoulder to comfort him.
The song shifts to something softer, forlorn, a song that reminded you of the heartache you felt with Ben, but also a melody that eases your soul somehow.
"I don't understand why you're with him." Ben sighs, but you can still feel the tension in his shoulders beneath your hand.
"My mother is happy-"
"But you're not." The look in his eyes is unfamiliar, almost earnest, as if he's trying to get you to understand something that he can't say.
"Ben." You breathe.
"Fine. I don't want you to think about him when we're dancing to our song anyway." The look in his eyes shifts back to the playful green they'd been before.
"Our song?" The words make your heart skip a beat and you can't help but smile at him.
You couldn't remember the last time you'd smiled this much. Probably the last time I saw him.
"Yes." Ben dips you back, before bringing you up against him, the playful look in his eyes becoming softer as you come back.
You know that your own gaze is filled with love and you remember watching the elderly couple. The way they looked at one another warming your heart as you gaze up at Ben. The three little words tiptoe against your tongue, the three little words that you'd been trying to say forever, but you can't. You don't want to lose him, don't want to live in a world without him, because you know that it won't be worth living.
So instead you lean forward and lay your head against his chest, in the space between his neck and shoulder as the song continues. You think that you feel Ben's arms tighten around you, pulling you further into his embrace, but you chock that up to wishful thinking.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You hear someone yell, and all of a sudden someone's hand is on your wrist jerking you away from Ben.
What?
Howard is standing there his chest pushed against Ben’s, trying to look intimidating, but Howard's inability to reach Ben's shoulders made it difficult for him.
You rub your fingers over your wrist, where Howard’s bright red handprint stands out against your skin.
Ben’s eyes shift to notice your ministrations, darkening with the force of his anger at the thought that Howard hurt you.
“I think I was dancing with my girl.” Ben’s eyes narrow, skating back to Howard.
Your heart skips a beat when he says that, but you shake away the thought, knowing that Ben is only saying that to make Howard angry.
“Your girl?!” Howard sputters, his face growing red. “She’s not your girl!”
“Howie, buddy-“ Ben’s confident smirk slips over his features but you still see the anger beneath the surface. “Calm down, you’ll give yourself a heart attack.”
“Just because you think you have some claim on her because you’ve been stringing her along with the harem that usually follows you, does not make her your girl!” Howard fumes. “She’s with me.” Howard grabs your wrist again and drags you towards him.
“Hey wait a minute-“ You begin to say.
Ben grabs the front of Howard's tailored suit, rumpling the pristine fabric. “Don’t you dare touch her like that.”
“I will touch her however I damn well please! She's mine-"
The grip on your wrist is so tight that you know it’ll leave bruises. “Howard wait-“ You try again to diffuse the tension, bringing your free hand to rest on his forearm to make him let go.
“Shut up.” He snaps, eyes flashing back to you.
Ben’s temper flares and the sharp crack of his fist against Howard’s face echoes through the room. Howard stumbles away, letting go of your wrist as he reels backward to the welcoming hardwood floor that catches him when he falls.
“Don’t you ever speak to her that way you arrogant son of a bitch!” Ben shouts taking a step forward. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched at his sides and his jaw is tight, as his anger burns through the air.
By now the band has stopped playing music and all the couples around you are watching with wide eyes.
I have to do something before he kills him.
You put yourself between them, your hands firmly planted on Ben’s muscular chest so your back is to where Howard stands fuming. “Ben. Don’t.”
But he’s not looking at you, his gaze is locked with Howard’s, eyes blazing, muscles tensing beneath the palms of your hands. You try to ignore how good his chest feels beneath your touch.
Damn it.
“Ben.” You say his name again.
His eyes snap back to yours. The soft green has hardened to an emerald with the force of his rage, so different than how he looked when the two of you were dancing. But he doesn’t say anything.
“Please.” You whisper. "Stop."
Ben looks from you to Howard, before he finally exhales. “Fine.” He mutters, and he turns and vanishes into the crowd of people without another word.
A minute passes and the music begins all over again, the band on the stage starting with a lively tune that makes the couples around you to move back on to the dance floor, but the tension of what just happened remains in the air.
Because what did just happen? Did Ben do that because he was protective of me? Or did he do that because he was jealous?
Your eyes trace where he vanished, longing for him to come back, but when he doesn't appear, you're left to deal with the aftermath. 
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After numerous apologies to Howard, he finally relented and took you back to your dorm, leaving your group of friends at the dance hall. You knew there would definitely be a conversation about what just happened between you all when they got back, but even you were confused. Ben was always protective of you, but what happened seemed over the top. You think about how Ben called you “my girl," the way he said it sending a thrill down your spine. He’d never done that before and you wondered if it was because he wanted to get a rise out of Howard or because he believed it.
Not like he’s tried to do anything about it. You think to yourself stroking one finger against your bruised wrist. The discoloration was more prominent now, black and blue marks beginning to sprout like flowers in spring. Howard’s eye didn’t look much better when he dropped you off. You were surprised that he’d been forgiving enough to continue to see you, not that you wanted to see him, but you didn't think you could handle a letter from your mother.
Then again maybe she would pull you out of this ridiculous school.
A small tap at your window causes you to raise your head to look out the glass. Ben is sitting there, but he doesn’t smile like he usually does. Your dorm room was on the first floor, which meant that Ben didn't need to shimmy up a tree to get into it like he did when you were home. Then again this was the first time he'd showed up here and you wondered how he knew where your room was. You also weren't thrilled at his appearance because you didn't know when Pearl would come back and you weren't sure what your roommate would do if she came back and found Ben in your room. She was a stickler for the rules and despite your friendship, rooming with her was one of your least favorite things about the Dawson School For Girls.
“If they find you here I’m going to be in so much trouble.” You say helping him through the small window, putting your hand on the back of his head so that he doesn't bang it against the glass. "You might like getting kicked out of boarding schools, but I don't."
“They won’t find out.” Ben rolls his eyes. He glances at Pearl’s empty bed on the other side of the room. “Roommate not back yet?”
“No she was still dancing when I left.”
Ben frowns. “Where’s the asshole?”
“Ben-“
“What?”
“He left. And I don't exactly invite him up to where I sleep."
“Good.” Ben flexes his fist.
“How did you know which room was mine?” You ask. Ben had never come to see you before at boarding school and the fact that he was here probably meant that boarding school number ten was out.
“I might have guessed wrong.” He smirks.
“Uh-huh.” You sigh, but all you can think about is how he acted earlier. Your feet shift back and forth “Why did you hit him?”
Ben’s eyes darken. “He shouldn’t have touched you like that or said that to you.”
You stand there for a minute observing his reaction.
“He kinda deserved it." You say slowly.
You knew it was true. When Ben showed up Howard shouldn’t have lost it like he did, he definitely shouldn’t have grabbed you like that or called you his-
You stutter on that thought. But maybe he is right. I am Howard’s. We’ve been going steady… The thought of being his makes something curl up in your chest and die. There was only one man that you wanted to belong to.
"Yeah.” Ben sighs.
"Why did you call me your 'girl'?" You ask.
"Um." Ben shrugs. "Felt right in the moment."
"What?"
"I mean you are. You're my friend-"
"But that doesn't mean friend Ben." You say it gently trying to catch his eye, but Ben won't meet your gaze.
"Fine. I just wanted to mess with him a little bit." Ben frowns. "But I didn't like that he called you his, or the fact that he hurt you."
“But Ben I am his.” You whisper even though you don’t want to. “We’re going steady-“
“That doesn’t make you his!” Ben snaps, eyes flashing. “Just because he feels the need to say it doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“But Ben-“
“And I never want to hear you say it.” He continues loudly.
What is wrong with him? I've never seen him this angry about anything.
“Why?”
“Because that means he has some claim on you. You’re not his, you’re my friend.”
"You're being ridiculous. You're saying that he can't have some claim on me but you're possessively calling me your friend!" You shout back frustrated.
Why is he acting like this? Does he really hate Howard that much?
"I am not! I'm just saying that you're my friend and you're not his!"
“I can’t be both?” Your words hang in the air between the two of you and you mentally beg Ben to answer. He was acting like he wanted you to be his, like he believed that he had some claim on you and you couldn't remember another time that he'd acted this way. Sure he teased Howard, but this was more than that.
It was almost possessive and it kinda scared you how much you liked it.
Ben doesn’t answer your question. His shoulders are tense, hands clenched into fists at his sides, while something lurks behind his eyes that you can’t identify.
“Ben?” You say it like a question, ignoring the urge to press your hands against his chest like you did earlier at the dance to calm him down.
His gaze drops to your arm, where Howard grabbed you, tracing the bruises and clenching his jaw together. Ben’s right hand comes to delicately pick up your bruised wrist, running his thumb over the discolored flesh with a frown. “Does it hurt?” He rumbles changing the subject.
“No. Does that hurt?” You breathe noticing his bruised knuckles and gently probe your fingers along them.
You hated the though that he was hurt and for you, no less.
Why did he have to intervene? Why did he hit Howard?
“It was worth it.”
You both stand there for a minute, with Ben holding on to your wrist, touch surprisingly gentle.
“I just don’t like that he hurt you okay?” He mutters raising his eyes to yours. You weren't prepared for the soft look in his eyes. You expected him to still be angry over Howard, but he almost looked, worried.
“I'm okay Ben." You whisper back.
You want him to answer your question. You think again about telling him those three little words you wanted to say when you were swaying on the dance floor together but you can’t.
He nods once before he looks around the room, eyes falling on your sketchpad where it lays closed on your bed. "Got any new ones?"
You knew it was Ben's way of asking if he could stay, trying to tell you that he didn’t want to go back to Philadelphia that night, and you didn't want him to either.
"A few. If you're not too tired-"
"I’m never too tired for you."
You feel your heart beat rapidly in your chest. “Okay.”
The whole time you sit together on your bed, Ben doesn't drop your wrist, in fact he continues to brush his thumb against it while you look through your sketchbook. And in a few hours when Pearl finds you and Ben curled up in bed together, you’re not embarrassed, because deep down you’re starting to believe that Ben cared for you more than he was willing to admit.
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Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series, please let me know :)
Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303
@deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs
@bughill126
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swiftiethatlovesf1 · 3 months ago
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Anything for Toto Wolff with wife reader including their son, Jack!!! Fluff. Thanks!! :))
Hii I hope you enjoy my first request as a one-shot about Toto :)
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The time you've been waiting for has arrived—summer break. Jack doesn't have school, and Toto can finally relax even though he always says his work never ends. Your family is together, and you couldn't be happier.
This year, you've decided to return to the Maldives, the paradise where you and Toto celebrated your honeymoon five years ago. Time has flown by so quickly. At first, people judged your relationship with Toto because of the age gap, but with time and Jack's presence, you've learned to ignore others' opinions and cherish every second of your love.
The gentle hum of the seaplane filled the air as it glided over the crystal-clear waters of the Indian Ocean, the endless expanse of blue dotted with the green jewels of the Maldives' islands. You glanced over at Jack, his eyes wide with wonder as he pressed his face against the window, marveling at the view below. Toto, sitting beside you, reached over and squeezed your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. The excitement was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness.
As the seaplane descended toward the private island resort where you had spent your honeymoon, memories flooded back. The island had been a sanctuary for you and Toto, a place where you could escape the world and revel in your love. Now, returning with Jack made the experience even more special, a testament to the life you had built together.
The moment you stepped off the seaplane, the familiar scent of saltwater and tropical flowers enveloped you. Jack let out a delighted laugh as he ran ahead, his feet kicking up sand. You and Toto followed hand in hand, savoring the warm sand beneath your toes.
The villa was just as you remembered, with its open-air design allowing the ocean breeze to flow through. Jack's eyes lit up at the sight of the infinity pool merging with the sea beyond. "Can we go swimming, Mommy? Please?" he begged, his excitement infectious.
"Of course, sweetheart," you replied, ruffling his hair. "But let's unpack first and get settled in."
As you and Toto unpacked, you couldn't help but steal glances at him. He looked as handsome as ever, his hair slightly tousled from the journey, a relaxed smile on his lips that seemed reserved just for you. He caught you staring and raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "What are you thinking about, mein Liebchen?"
"Just how lucky I am," you replied, stepping closer to wrap your arms around his waist. "To be here with you and Jack. To have this life."
He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "I'm the lucky one," he murmured. "You've given me everything I could ever want."
Later that evening, after a long swim and a delicious dinner, the three of you settled on the beach to watch the sunset. Jack built sandcastles nearby, his laughter filling the air as the waves lapped at the shore. You leaned against Toto, his arm around your shoulders, drawing you close.
"Do you remember our first night here?" you asked, looking up at him.
He chuckled softly. "How could I forget? We danced under the stars, and later made love under them."
A blush covered your cheeks as you remembered that magical night and the years you've shared. "Through everything, you've been my rock."
"And you, mine," he replied, his gaze intense. "I love you more each day."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, you felt a profound sense of contentment. Jack ran over, plopping down between you and Toto, a tired but happy smile on his face.
"This is the best day ever," he declared, snuggling against you.
You exchanged a look with Toto, your hearts swelling with love for this beautiful, perfect moment. The future stretched out before you, full of promise and joy. No matter what came your way, you knew you would face it together, as a family.
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dontcarehowlongittakes · 5 months ago
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its me again!! For this one can it be megumi x reader, the reader is a bubbly, adventurous, curious and silly person but their extremely kind and witty. [also smart, and sassy at times] The scenario can be just them doing stuff together like baking, going to a playground, coffee date, its your choice!
— a taste of your love.
synopsis. megumi’s had his fair share of having people who’re energetic, loud and annoying— much to his distaste— though deep down, he knows he loves them; no matter how much he tries to deny it.
although, he just can't help but want a taste of you— a taste of your love.
genres/themes. megumi fushiguro x reader, fluff, golden retriever and black cat dynamic, baking with megumi!, megumi silently admiring reader LMAO, two idiots in love, megumi is learning to love the reader (precious boy omg)
yoi's notes. hello! senkyu for making this request ! < 3 i wanna feed shiro and kuro the best dog biscuits that ever exist, just wait till i summon them. (/j
... unless? LMAOO)
word count. 1.3k
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megumi was still in the process of understanding you.
now, now— don’t blame him, that poor guy has been surrounded by highly energetic people all his life— be it tsumiki, his oh so nice sister— though, sometimes too sweet for her own good— or his friend yuuji— simply a ball of sunshine, that guy was; although he was a bit… naïve at times, or satoru— his ‘benefactor’ (also the guy he didn’t like to admit was his father figure) — often regarding him as an annoying, loud idiot.
but strangely enough, megumi had learnt to love them all the same— something that came from deep within, something that was hidden under his aloof demeanour.
and oh he simply despised to admit it to himself— to admit that he actually cared.
“ ’gumi, hand me the chocolate chips, will ya?” your voice said, drawing him out of his reverie— a simple blink and he was reaching up for the ingredient in the cabinet, hands strangely having a mind of their own.
dark green eyes searching your own as he placed the container on the kitchen counter, lips slightly parted as if he wanted to say something—
yet no words came out. you always rendered him speechless, both literally and emotionally.
“aw, thanks!” watching your eyes light up in the way it always did whenever he did even the bare minimum— megumi didn’t try to notice how his heart skipped a beat, didn’t try to notice how he swallowed a lump in his throat that had formed without him realising.
didn’t try to admit how much he craved your attention— didn’t try to admit how much craved you.
“did you get the cakes for shiro and kuro? poor things, i can’t eat this infront of them,” you tut, stirring the brownie batter with practiced precision, and megumi didn’t miss how your eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly when you did so; how your teeth habitually dug into your bottom lip whenever you were focused— oh how he couldn’t help but notice every damn thing about you.
it almost annoyed him.
you turned your head to face him, the hint of a smile that was always there with you still playing at your lips— “oi, earth to fushiguro. what’re you thinkin’ ?”
keyword: almost.
“i have,” megumi answered, trying to sound stoic but even he didn’t miss the slightly hoarse undertone of his voice— making his ears turn a delicate shade of red. “don’t worry ’bout it.”
“ooo-kay, okay,” you chirped, letting out a small laugh— god, why were you even laughing?— now you’ve made his cheeks pink.
and yet, the boy wanted nothing but to hear the sound of your laughter again and again— until it would be embedded into his very soul, like some forbidden memory only he could reach.
“hm.”
slender fingers of his rested against the cool tiles of the kitchen counter as he turned his head in your direction as you worked, and for a moment, he couldn’t help but just stare— eyelashes fluttering so delicately against his pale skin that one might just think that he didn’t want to close his eyes.
and so he didn’t.
how could he? you were there. before his very eyes.
you and your pretty eyes which seemed to shine no matter how dark the world got, you and your kindness that stood out like a sore thumb against the crowd— you and your insufferable self—
you.
megumi’s gaze lingered on your form, eyes skimming over the smallest of details— every little scar, every little movement of your hand that caused a vein to twitch, every little, though barely visible, freckle or mole.
and for a moment, he wanted nothing but to just step over and bury his nose into his your hair and breathe in your scent, pull you into his arms and never, ever let go—
“you’re staring.”
and oh how he turned red— his breath catching in his throat whilst he blinked, looking at you with almost a comically bewildered expression— cheeks flushing such a pretty shade of red that you secretly vowed to yourself to do anything in your wits to make him blush like that again, and again.
“i— . . . uh,” megumi stuttered, mentally cursing himself for even falling for your unintentional charms— how he loathed, yet relished in that cheshire grin of yours, “ ’m not.”
“yeahh, sure you aren’t, ’gumi,” you cooed, a small snicker escaping your lips, and ah how the boy’s ears turned a deeper shade of red as he found himself growing more and more flustered by the passing seconds.
“don’t call me that.”
he tried to ignore the way your eyes lit up even more at his half-mumbled reply— grin widening even more in a way that almost made you look so dumb with how much you were smiling— but then again, that was one of the reasons why megumi was so hopelessly in love with you.
“oh? you don’t like it, hm?” snickering, you dipped a finger of yours into the rich brownie batter— holding it out to him in a silent invitation to taste it, all the while you held that damn smile on your face.
how he wanted to roll his eyes— like he usually did whenever someone else tried to pull a similar stunt— oh how he wanted to respond with a blunt retort that was somehow always oh the tip of his tongue, how he wanted to be annoyed by your teasing.
so, of course, he quietly stepped forward— gently bringing your finger up to his lips to taste the batter— of course he wanted to feel your touch on his lips for a little while longer.
it was always different with you.
“i have a name,” megumi grumbled, eyes looking anywhere but your face— fingers reluctantly letting go of your own, his free hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. “the batter’s alright, by the way.”
“of course you have a name,” you huffed out a small laugh, transferring the brown liquid into a container, “though, i do distinctly remember you acting all grumpy when i called you megumi instead of ’gumi the last time we had a sleepov—”
“shut up,” he said in a slightly harsh tone, but you knew better than to take it seriously— partly because you were just too much of a light-hearted person to do so and partly because you knew that megumi needed time to process his feelings.
“mhm, okay,” you tittered, shaking your head as that smile never left your face— letting out a small gasp as you felt strong yet hesitant arms wrap around your waist from behind, and oh how your heart skipped a beat whilst you turned back to glance at him over your shoulder.
megumi nuzzled into the crook of your neck; dark locks spiking up in the same way which you adored so much whilst obscuring the view of his eyes in such a pretty manner that made your heart swell— arms wrapped in a tender yet firm grip, as if he was afraid to break you if he held on too tight— yet too frightened by the possibility that you might disappear the moment he let go.
“you’re so . . . annoying,” he mumbled against your skin, still refusing to meet your gaze, earning a hum from you in response.
“d’you hate it, though?” a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips whilst you tapped the container against the countertop, making the batter even out.
“yes,” he replied, but you knew better— of course you did, you always did— a pause of his movements, hands around your waist tensing up for a second before he spoke up again— “ . . . no.”
you could only let out a small chuckle in response.
“as i thought.”
understanding you and himself would take some time, he knew that.
but for once, megumi wanted to understand— wanted to know you, wanted to have a taste of you— a taste of your love.
☆ @dontcarehowlongittakes on tumblr. do not copy or post any of my works without my permission.
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raven-cincaide · 23 days ago
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 Pumpkin Carving Contest 
Summary: You enter a pumpkin carving contest without knowing what to carve. In panic you settle for one of Megumi’s shikigami, without much thought behind the choice. In fact, you don’t think much of it…. until your Ex shows up, wanting to know what the hell you thought you were doing.
Pairing: Fem! Reader x (ex) Megumi Fushuguro  Sweetober prompt 3: Pumpkin carving contest  WC: 3.1 K Warnings: Cursing, hurt/comfort, hint at Megumi’s trauma, 
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Think of something scary 
You stared at the unusually shaped pumpkin in front of you, your head rested in the palm of your hand while the second free hand nervously flickered through the drawings in your sketchbook. You had given up on trying to design something new and were desperately seeing if any of your previous ideas or sketches could be adapted to fit the pumpkin, which was significantly less jack-o-lantern round than what you were used to. No, it was relatively flat, and oval shaped like a cabbage with a long, thick stem.  
When you signed up for the carving competition and picked out your pumpkin, there were only a handful of pumpkins left to pick from.  All the perfectly round pumpkins and even the more classic, slightly dented ones were taken, leaving behind either abnormally large or significantly deformed ones. In sheer panic, you picked the first pumpkin you saw and stuck with that choice even as the competition administrator checked with you three times to see if he understood you currently. Knowing you were fucked either way, you stuck with your choice. 
This led you to the predicament you were in, sitting on the picnic bench at the event, silently staring at your notebook with the same cheap plastic carving tools that everyone else had. Yours however were untouched, while all around you laid the same tools in various shapes of destroyed. The sound of cracking pumpkins, curses and scraping of insides filled the space all around you. Most of the other competitors were well on the way with their creatuons and would surely be done within the designated three hours. You hadn’t even set on the design, let alone started carving. You may as well count your losses, although you weren’t ready to give up completely. 
What’s even scary to people? 
Three years ago that question would have an obvious answer to you. After being hunted by curses, dating Megumi and being around his Shinigami, the answer was less clear. What was a ghost or a spider in comparison to a house-sized snarling monster? What were bloody handprints when you had seen Megumi’s almost cut off fingers, and claw-sized chunks of missing flesh out of him? What were fake vampires when you had run in with s real soul sucker and lived!? 
You cut off your trail of thoughts as your eyes landed on a competitor's pumpkin that was chiselled out of human-like teeth to accompany the perfectly round Jack-o-Lantern eyes. You didn’t necessarily find it scary, a bit unnerving as your thoughts drifted to the impossible possibility of the pumpkin coming to life. Would it be scary then, or are just the human-like teeth.. Scary? 
Instantly, your mind brought up an image of a creature you had only ever seen once over a year ago. Large owl-like body with dirty orange feathers, huge talons that could carry or shred and a pair of wings. The face was a white mask with eerie human features and human-like teeth. Megumi had called the shinigami ‘Nue’ when he taught you how to make shadow puppets one late afternoon. You had been so excited to learn, doing your best to wiggle your fingers to mimic the shapes he was doing like second nature—dog, bunny and then bird. And even if you’d never be able to summon the magnificent creatures he could, the simple thing made you feel closer to Megumi. More connected. And you’d always make the sign for the ‘dog’ whenever you felt lonely. The memory brought a stab of pain to your heart, and you shook your head, desperate to chase away the pleasant-unpleasant reminders of your ex. Instead you forced your focus back to the pumpkin in front of you
Was Nue scary?
You tried to think back to what you felt when the owl-like beast had appeared. Was it fear you felt? Or just pure excitement as you got to ruffle its huge feathers all you wanted. Yet as time ticked away- and with no better alternative at hand- you sketched the design of the shinigami from memory and began to chisel away at your pumpkin. Using the pumpkin's naturally flattened shape as a guide for Nue’s wings, you carved them to stretch behind its main face, as though the shikigami was in mid-flight. The central focus was the face; the large eyes and the toothy mask clasped, teeth bared so every single one of them was visible. You also split the thick stem of the pumpkin and tried to shape it and hack at it to make Nue’s signature ruffle feathers at the top of his head. You didn’t think it would save your creation, but maybe you would get a little above zero points, 
Maybe even a participation trophy AND creativity trophy. 
Those were your thoughts as you submitted the pumpkin and your number to the contestant before going to wash up and then purposefully forgetting all about it, Nue, Megumi and the competition entirely. There was no point in walking around stressing about a sure loss and questioning whether you had picked the right subject for the right category. Nue wasn’t scary, and even if you tried to make him malicious, you doubted he would stand a chance against seasoned pumpkin carvers. Besides the winner would be announced a week later, at the end of the fall festival giving people, both locals and those from larger towns around, ample time to vote and photograph the dozens of pumpkins. 
The unmistakable highlight of the local newspaper. After all a pumpkin carving contest was the most exciting thing that happened in a small town over an hour from the capital.
By the time Sunday the following week rolled around, you had completely forgotten that you had used Nue as the subject for your pumpkin. You pushed back the memories of carving the creature into the orangy flesh, and the sentimental feelings that wanted to spill to the surface while you carved. You were the same as the way you had been since your and Megumi’s break up; controlled, collected, unbothered. 
Moved on. 
It was a lie, internally you were a total fucking mess who still couldn’t understand why after five years together Megumi decided to call it off. Even being months apart didn’t make it any clearer to you. And it certainly didn’t make it any clearer, or easier, when you saw Megumi standing by the podium where the three winning pumpkins were placed on stands of different heights. His hands in his pockets, face angled up towards the carved creations, eyes focused on the winner: the unmistakable carving of Nue taking flight. 
You must have been imagining things, and your cruel mind was playing tricks on you. He wasn’t there, and you hadn’t won the entire competition- had you? Yet as you stumbled closer and closer, you came to the unmistakable realization that both of those things were true. You won. The honour, a set of carving knives and a small cash price were yours to collect before the end of the day. You won, with Nue, and Megumi was here, staring at the same carving of Nue that you were. He didn’t turn around and leave the second you appeared like he had done whenever he ran into you post-breakup. He stood rooted in place, and so did you, staring at the same damn pumpkin as the rest of the world faded into the background.  
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Megumi’s voice sounded tired and frustrated as if you had done the stupidest thing in the world. It was the same tone he had used with you whenever a date turned into a mission and you threw a rock at a cursed spirit to give Megumi enough time to summon his demon dogs. 
“What?” You snapped back, your voice holding nothing but pure anger. Three months apart, and this was the greeting he gave you, after five years together? Although it served to enrage you, the tiny part of you that still loved this man beyond all words rang warning bells. Plus the annoying bells in your mind told you that something didn’t quite add up.  
“Don’t ‘what’ me” Megumi turned to face you, pure fury in his expression. “You have no idea the kind of danger you put yourself in by announcing your connection to me, and after everything-” He cut himself off and shook his head as if it wasn’t worth explaining what he meant and settle for a tamer “- you pull this type of stunt!” 
You faced him, your mouth set into a straight line so hard your lips were pale while you clutched your fists tightly to prevent yourself from snapping or slapping him for telling you how to lead your life, especially while he still talked in riddles. A deep breath, inhale in- exhale out. You did your best to stay calm, your mind completely focused on that annoying ringing voice that demanded answers, “‘This stunt’ What the hell is your issue anyway? We’re not a couple, I can do and carve whoever I want now” Your voice came out huffier and more bitter than you intended. Megumi narrowed his eyes at you. “Don’t be an idiot, especially after all the hoops and sacrifices I made to keep you safe-?” “-You made?-”  Megumi ignored your outburst and kept talking: “- and instead of quietly going on to live your best life, you’re practically screaming to the entire jujutsu society that you’re involved in our world, with me. You’re putting a target on your back, and I can’t keep you safe.” Megumi took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, a desperate attempt to distract you and anyone who looked at him from the obviously embarrassed blush on his face. 
You were quiet for a long moment, processing both what he was saying and everything he wasn’t saying, the subtitles that Megumi bore, which he didn’t want you to know about. The things that were part of his world, his reality and which he refused to let you enter even after dating for five years. Although to your advantage, five years was a long time to get to know someone, even as close off and aloof as Megumi. You wouldn’t say you read him like an open book, but you were as close as anyone to being able to read Megumi like an open book. 
 “Then get stronger, ” you said it so casually that it was Megumi’s turn to snort. But now it's you who’s not letting him get a word in; “Let’s face it, Yuji’s just proposed to his girlfriend who can’t even see curses or cursed energy-” 
“ -It’s different” Megumi snapped, his tone grew louder and more frustrated- loud enough to silence you mid-sentence.  Again he ran his hand through his hair as if it could calm his rage. “Yuji doesn’t have one of the three most powerful jujutsu clans demanding him to be their next clan head.” 
You raised an eyebrow at his excuse, your expression unconvinced. “You also don’t want to be part of Zenin”, you shot back instantly.
Megumi didn’t look at you. “It’s not that easy. If I leave, they’ll target you...” he trailed off unsure how to continue. 
It took you all of three minutes to gather yourself, your fingers moving from crossed arms to pressing against your temple in a more subtle facepalm - slash - combatting -the -oncoming -headache look.
“So let me get this straight Megumi,” You utter the words slowly, making it clear you were trying to follow his not-so-logical trail of thoughts. “You broke up with me because what? Yuji proposed to his girlfriend of 2 years, and it made you feel less of a man-” Megumi shot you a dark glare which you promptly ignored “- because for you to do the same, you’d need to break things off with Zenin clan which might take years, you think they’ll target me and think I will betray you-” 
-” I don’t think you will betray me”, he added hastily, and you threw your hands up in the air in surrender. 
“Then what, Megumi? Why did you throw five years out of the window? Then chastise me for carving Nue into a pumpkin. Make it make sense, please!” 
You were desperate now. 
You were desperate to understand his reasoning because his behaviour was the definition of contradictions and illogical. To push you away and coldly break up with you, yet so obviously still care about you and your safety. 
No, the Megumi that stood in front of you at that moment, frustrated and embarrassed, was the polar opposite of the aloof and composed, slightly awkward yet always well-prepared Megumi you’ve come to know and love. You needed to understand why. But he didn’t give you an answer, not verbally, at least. Instead, his eyes flickered down to your stomach, and lingered there for a long moment before they returned to your face. Your mind registered the action and tried to process it step by step. You weren’t pregnant; you two had never even talked about children until he suddenly hinted at it. So why would he suddenly fixate himself with that? 
A look of shame crossed his features; Megumi licked his dry lips, his fists shaking in his pockets. The penny dropped as you realised it wasn’t logic speaking but trauma, an irrational fear that if you were to settle down and get pregnant, then, you, who would automatically get primary childcare- if not by being a mother, then certainly with his long absences as a sorcerer-, would be swayed by Zenin the same way his own father had been.
 Megumi worried you’d sell your future children to the godforsaken clan while he would be helpless to stop it, tying him right back to the Zenin’s. A repeat of what he’d been through.
“You’re afraid.” it felt weird to say it aloud. Megumi has always been strong and always denied being afraid of anything, but now you knew he was afraid; afraid that his clan would somehow turn his and your life into a misfortune, a repeat of his father, Toji’s, life. A pain for you, a horror for him and a torture for whatever offsprings you two made. 
“I don’t want to waste your prime” Megumi’s voice was quiet now, rendered with guilt and the inevitable comparison he was making between your relationship and Yuji and his fiancee. The pair who was already settling down two years into their relationship, while you and Megumi had broken up at the five-year mark. Broke up over a hypothetical ‘getting more involved with each other’ and even more hypothetical children and what would happen if Zenin got involved in your lives. 
“This is so stupid” You breathed, pressing the backs of your hands against your eyes. You didn’t know whether you wanted to burst out crying or laughing. It was like a bad comedy sketch. “First, would you say it’d be a waste of ‘our prime’ if we can’t have children?” You look up from your hands to see Megumi staring at you with a deadpan expression. “No, I’m serious, just consider for a moment that we follow the supposed plan ‘we should be doing’, you know, get married before 7 years together have passed, then try for children only to find out one of us is infertile. Would that be a waste of 7 years for you?” 
He looked lost. You weren’t done yet. “Second, our timeline and relationship are different from Yuji’s relationship. If they want to get married within a year, that’s up to them. In the same way, it wouldn’t make a difference between us if Nobara were to get a shotgun wedding tomorrow. We’re only in our twenties, Megumi. And unlike some, I am not ready to put my career on hold for household duties and changing diapers.” Your voice grew quiet, and the tears you had been pushing back all this time threatened to spill down your cheeks in angry streams. 
There was so much more you wanted to tell him, you wanted to tell him how this was a conversation you two should have had together. You wanted to tell him that a future together, a tomorrow, wasn’t guaranteed. In the same way, his mother had been suddenly ripped away from his father, he could die in battle, or you could be hit by a car tomorrow and perish. 
A day,  week or a year wasn’t promised to either of you; life owed you nothing but that very moment. 
You wanted him to know that so it was pointless to make these huge plans for the future that would most likely not work out. Even more foolish was comparing your relationship with someone else's. To wait five, or ten years to get married might be a curse for one person- but a blessing for another. But you couldn’t voice any of that; you don’t know how, so you settle for a much simpler; “ You’re an idiot, Megumi. A big mean dummy” 
Megumi looked embarrassed, guilty and awkward and turned away from you, back to face the ‘scary’ pumpkins, which judged you from their stands. The blush on his face matched the crimson of his ears. And just like that, you were back from your little emotional bubble and in the real world, suddenly aware of the little audience of curious passers-by who watched your intimate exchange. 
Your own face flushed red, and you looked down, unsure of what to say. 
“You know.. You really hurt Nue’s feelings, carving him as the theme for ‘scary, creepy and nightmarish’ ¨
You realized the olive branch when you saw it, and although you are the one who should be angry and mean, telling him to fuck off, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny that little peace offering. It was hard to throw five years together, primarily because of trauma wrapped in communication issues. The fact of the matter was Megumi broke up with you out of fear and care, not out of spite. Somehow, that fact made him feel more human to you, more relatable in a way. Not so perfect. 
So you just stretched your hand towards him; “Then let me apologise to Nue, in person.” 
Megumi took your hand without hesitation, tugging it into his jacket pocket to keep warm against the chilly October weather before he began heading to a more private spot to summon your muse. 
This conversation was far from over, and things were in no way back to the way they were before the breakup. But at least you both had talked and came to the mutual realisation that you wanted to fix this, to make it work, and you were sure the rest would sort itself… one way or another.
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Author note: In my opinion there are just not enough Megumi fics where you've gone past the initial stage of the relationship, moved past the 'getting comfortable together' but before happy hubby stage. You know the uncertain period where you don't know when to propose or even if you should. The no-longer-girlfriend but not yet wife stage. This was me trying to rectify.
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All fics are unique works by ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!
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latenightreadingpdf · 7 months ago
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Between the Pages - Spencer Reid
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Summary: In the university library, shy PhD student Spencer Reid has an unexpected encounter with Y/N, a popular classmate. Despite their differences, a shared interest in neuroscience sparks a captivating conversation, leading them from strangers to friends (and possibly more…).
The university library was always a sanctuary for Spencer Reid, a place where the overwhelming noise of the world faded to a hushed whisper, allowing him to lose himself among the stacks of books and journals. As a child prodigy , he was no stranger to the pressures of academia, often engrossed in his research and studies. With his signature mop of messy hair and glasses perched precariously on his nose, Spencer was the epitome of the dedicated scholar.
It was a Tuesday afternoon when the serenity of his beloved library was disrupted. The usual ambient noise was replaced by a slightly louder, distinctly feminine laughter that seemed out of place amidst the studious atmosphere.
Curiosity piqued, Spencer looked up from his book and noticed a group of students huddled together a few tables away. Among them was Y/N, a classmate whose name Spencer had often heard whispered in hushed, admiring tones around the campus corridors. She was effortlessly charming, her charisma drawing people in like moths to a flame. Spencer had never spoken to her before; he doubted she even knew he existed.
Returning his attention to his work, Spencer tried to drown out the unfamiliar noise. Yet, despite his best efforts, his mind kept wandering, intrigued by the unfamiliarity of Y/N’s presence in the usually quiet library. Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him, and he found himself discreetly observing her from behind the pages of his book.
He was mesmerized by the way she interacted with her friends, her laughter infectious and her smile radiant. Despite being surrounded by people, she seemed completely at ease, effortlessly commanding the attention of everyone around her. It was a stark contrast to Spencer's own introverted nature, his shyness often making social interactions a daunting prospect.
Lost in his thoughts, Spencer failed to notice when Y/N's gaze wandered in his direction. When he finally looked up, he found himself locked in a pair of curious eyes. Flushing slightly, he quickly averted his gaze, his heart pounding in his chest.
A few minutes passed in awkward silence before a soft voice broke the stillness. "Hey, you're Spencer, right? We're in Dr. Harrison's seminar together."
Startled, Spencer looked up to find Y/N standing in front of him, her smile warm and inviting. "Um, yes, that's me," he stammered, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... uh, I mean, hi."
Y/N chuckled softly, her laughter putting Spencer at ease. "No need to apologize. I couldn't help but notice you sitting here all by yourself. Mind if I join you?"
Swallowing nervously, Spencer nodded, gesturing to the empty seat opposite him. "Of course, please, have a seat."
As Y/N settled herself across from him, Spencer couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and anxiety. He had never been this close to her before, and the proximity only heightened his awareness of her presence. He could smell the faint scent of her perfume, a delicate floral fragrance that was both intoxicating and comforting.
"Working on your thesis?" Y/N asked, nodding towards the screen of his laptop.
"Yes, I'm researching the neurobiological basis of memory retrieval," Spencer replied, his passion for his work shining through despite his nervousness.
"That sounds fascinating," Y/N said sincerely, her interest genuine. "I'm majoring in psychology, but I have to admit, neuroscience has always been a bit daunting for me."
Spencer's eyes lit up at her words, his confidence growing. "Well, if you ever need any help or want to learn more, I'd be happy to explain it to you."
Y/N smiled appreciatively, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "I might just take you up on that offer."
As the afternoon went on, the initial awkwardness between them melted away, replaced by a comfortable closeness. They discussed everything from their shared academic interests to their favorite books and movies, discovering unexpected common ground along the way.
By the time the library began to empty, the two of them were so engrossed in conversation that they hardly noticed the passing time. As they gathered their belongings, Y/N turned to Spencer with a smile.
"Thanks for today, Spencer. I had a great time getting to know you."
Spencer's heart soared at her words, a warm glow spreading through him. "The pleasure was all mine," he replied, his shyness momentarily forgotten.
As they walked out of the library together, Spencer couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of connection with Y/N. Though they had started the day as strangers, their chance meeting in the library had blossomed into the beginnings of a friendship - and perhaps, just maybe, something more.
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cryptidghostgirl · 7 months ago
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Rapture (Alastor x Ex-Partner!Gn!Reader)
Pairing: Alastor x Reader
Warnings: ANGST.
Word Count: 3,000
Previous Part: Ritornello
Next Part: COMING SOON
Master Lists:
Master Lists 
Hazbin Hotel Master List
Rhapsody Master List
A/N I got a request a while ago to continue this so here is the next part!! Sorry for taking so long. When you guys request things,, it lets me get to them quicker which I appreciate (esp when its about my own projects) :)
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It had been about a month since Alastor had joined the hotel staff and things were going smoothly. Well, as smoothly as they could go when trying to rehabilitate sinners but, some good things had occurred. The best of them had been the addition of their newest guest: Sir Pentious.
Y/n had been suspicious of him at first, as had Vaggie and Angel Dust. They had heard of him before, fought with him in the past according to Pentious himself. Y/n knew the demon had a desire in him, a want to become what they despised most. It became quickly evident that when he had joined the hotel, Pentious had not only given up his war machines but that dream of his as well.
Settling in to the new pattern had been... difficult. It was such a strange thing for Y/n to be around Alastor. There had been a time, a long time, when they had known his every affect, the essence of his being. That time was gone. He was not the many they had known just as they were not the demon he had known. However, there was something that lingered between them still -- the memory. It filled the silent spaces, consumed the air. It was large and complicated.
The first week or so after his arrival, Y/n had been a wreck. They didn't cry, they didn't yearn for him, but they still suffered. It was so hard to escape the old patterns. Each demon found themselves nearly doing things, saying things, experiencing things that belonged in the lives they had once led, not the ones they were involved in now.
Y/n had stopped missing Alastor when their relationship with Charlie had solidified. Suddenly, despite the fact that he was right before their very eyes, inhabiting the same places as they did for the first time in three decades, it was almost like they were loosing him all over again.
Slowly, the need to stop themselves faded. There was no longer the necessity of catching the words in their throats, of pinning their hands to their sides, of burying questions or requests in the recesses of their minds because the need, or habit perhaps is the better word, began to fade. New routines came into being. The world kept turning.
Still, there was the odd awkward silence. Still, Y/n felt a tingle in their spine, butterflies in their stomach, when they ended up alone together. Alastor just smiled through it all, like he always had.
The only real step Alastor had taken that showed any emotion at all towards his former lover was that he blocked any contact Y/n had with Husk and Nifty. Y/n was intent on interrogating them, seeing what sort of a master he was, learning their stories and working to free them from their contracts. Alastor must have sensed this, must have guessed, drawing on his own experience with them, that they would want to do something like that. Every time Y/n managed to come even close to a moment alone with one of them or the appropriate environment for a more personal, private conversation, he appeared and shut it down.
If Y/n were younger, they would have thought it was a game. Perhaps some part of them still saw the competition in it all but, if they did, Alastor couldn't tell. They had changed -- god had they changed -- but, so had he. Change was what time did to a person. He couldn't blame them.
Alastor spent a lot of time watching Y/n. He wasn't sure why, for what he was searching. It was a compulsion. He searched for the bits and pieces he remembered of them, tried to fill the gaps between who they were, and the person standing before him now.
There had been some things he was able to observe. Firstly, Y/n's diet had changed. While before they had eaten whatever was available, now they seemed only ever to eat raw meet. Alastor had absolutely no idea why and the only plausible reason he could come up with was simply that they liked it. Second: where Y/n used to spend hours composing, messing around with various instruments and musical genres, they were rarely found with even their lute in their hand nowadays. Alastor knew that a busier schedule provided by Charlie and the hotel could be at fault but, that answer was unsatisfying. Y/n loved music more than anything, more even, Alastor was almost certain, than they had loved him.
There were a handful of other small details, minor things about the way they held themselves, the musicality of their voice as they spoke. Then there was the biggest change, the cloud looming over his head. This was the way Charlie had changed them.
The days of Y/n running off, rushing away mid conversation, were gone. They regulated their emotions with much greater ease now, Alastor had even caught them doing breathing exercises a few times. There was a certain sense of freedom he hadn't seen them hold within themselves in a long time, not since they had first gotten together. While on the one hand he was happy for them, grateful beyond belief that Charlie had managed to help them regain that sense of themselves, it hurt on the other. It hurt so much because he had tried and this was the evidence that the failure had been his, not theirs. He had tried, he had given them his all, and it hadn't been enough but somehow, in some way, Charlie had been.
Charlie had been enough for Y/n. Charlie had... had... Alastor hadn't.
Something had happened. Alastor didn't know what because it had happened without him. If he had had the chance to talk to Y/n about the interim, the time they had spent apart, he would have. The thing was, Y/n didn't seem too keen on the idea of a private chat.
They were never rude to him. No, they always kept a friendly lilt to their voice, said hello to him when their paths crossed. Alastor could tell they weren't avoiding him either. He knew that if they were, he would never see them at all and he saw them all the time so it wasn't that. Still, every chance he had, every spare moment they shared just the two of them, Y/n found a way to quickly and kindly exit the conversation.
Alastor could force them to engage with him, he knew that, but that had never been their style. There was no precedence for it. He lied to himself, saying it was just that he knew how Y/n would react if he tried to capture them, to force them into any situation they didn't want to be in. He needed to be at the hotel and Y/n had the power to remove him from his position. He told himself that, again and again, while the real reason lurked under the surface.
The truth of the matter was: Alastor did not want to force them. He never wanted to force Y/n to do anything, whether physically or through mental manipulation. Even the consideration of such action felt like a betrayal of them, of himself in a way, of what they had.
What had they even had? Alastor had been in love, loved Y/n still in an odd and nostalgic sense but, he was also angry with them. The newfound regret of having failed them mingled with the decades old infestation of anger, of feeling like they had failed him. At the end of the day, they were the one who had left first. Alastor might have said the words, pulled the trigger, but they were the one that left. They had withdrawn from him long before that conversation on the hill. Y/n committed the murder, allowing the corpse to dry out in the sun, to be picked apart by birds and wild animals. Alastor had just buried the body. It had been the right thing to do, it had been necessary.
Slowly, the silences between them lost most of their tension, became a bit more comfortable. Slowly, they each learned to inhabit their new roles in one another's lives. There had been something and, yes, that something was gone, but there was a new something growing in its place. Alastor had thought the ground was barren. He was grateful anything grew at all.
They were gathered in the lobby, Y/n running a workshop on how to properly wrap presents. Alastor, like the rest of the hotel staff, had been invited to participate but, he had opted to watch. It was a skill he already had, one he had no use for. There was no need to learn what he already knew, but watching Angel, Husk, Pentious, and Nifty struggle was entertaining.
"Okay, well..." Y/n put a finger to their chin, gazing at the box Nifty was holding up to them with pride.
It was perfectly wrapped in white paper with a big black bow on top. Beside the bow, Nifty had drawn a detailed picture of a cemetery for all the bugs she had killed in the hotel thus far.
"You did a great job." Y/n finally settled, patting Nifty on the shoulder, "Well done."
Nifty squealed in glee, turning to present the box to Angel for him to examen. Angel had managed to get tangled up in his project and, realizing this, Nifty quickly dropped her own in order to help him. Witnessing this, Y/n smiled.
Alastor felt the place where his heart would have skipped a beat if things weren't so complicated. He felt the lack of an emotional reaction almost more deeply than if he had had one.
Just as Y/n moved to help Nifty untangle Angel, Charlie bolted into the room.
"Y/n! Y/n Y/n Y/n! I figured it out! I finally figured it out!"
Y/n turned to Charlie as they came to a stop before them, breathing heavily. Their brow was furrowed, their head tilted slightly to the side in confusion.
"Figured what out, Sunshine?"
"Your curse?" Charlie replied as if Y/n should have known.
Y/n tensed. Charlie didn't notice, but Alastor did. He knew them too well not to. It also did not escape him how actively they were avoiding looking at him.
"Y/n, if you get redeemed, wont it go away? Curses can't exist in Heaven, can they?"
His mind was absolutely reeling. What curse? In all the years he had known them, Y/n had never once mentioned a curse. The others gathered seemed equally as surprised and at a loss as he felt.
"I..."
At last Y/n looked at Alastor. Though only a few seconds had passed since Charlie's revelation, it had felt like an eternity. Charlie followed the path of their gaze, the smile falling from her face immedeatly.
"Fuck, wait, I... fuck. I'm so sorry, I-"
Y/n took a deep breath, turning back to Charlie with a smile fixed firmly upon their face.
"It's alright."
"No!" Charlie insisted, "I swear, I di-"
"No, Charlie, it's alright. I told you, I stopped looking for a cure years ago."
"But you cou-"
"I don't want a cure." Y/n shook their head, taking Charlies hands in theirs, "I want to stay here, at the hotel. With you."
Almost as soon as Y/n had spoken, Charlie's eyes filled with tears.
"I... I..." she stuttered for a moment before throwing herself into Y/n's chest, "Thank you!"
Y/n patted Charlie's back with a comfort that was unexpected to Alastor's eyes. The look on their face as they pulled Charlie from them, wiping the girls tears, was a sort of kindness Alastor had never seen.
A curse? What curse?
A million questions flooded through his mind as he continued to watch the pair.
"I have some business to deal with, are you okay with me leaving?"
Charlie sniffed, nodding her head slightly.
"Do you want to help finish the workshop? We're wrapping presents."
"You're wrapping p-pr-presents? That's so sweet!"
Charlie's tears started anew and Y/n chuckled, ruffling her hair comfortingly.
"You sure you're okay if I go?"
"Just go." Angel advised, getting up and walking over to Charlie, "we can handle this."
Y/n shot him a grateful smile before turning on their heel and walking up to Alastor. He looked down at them, his expression unreadable.
"I'm ready to talk." they stated.
Alastor nodded.
"Let's go."
----
When the shadows released them from their grasp, Y/n half expected them to be on the hill, their old haunt. It would have been fitting for Alastor to do something like that and he had every right to be so cruel in their mind. Instead, he had brought Y/n in to their studio. The anger radiated off him, the confusion, and still he had thought to offer them such a kindness.
Y/n, their back to Alastor, balled their hands into fists. They could feel the panic rising in their chest, the fear. They took a few deep breaths before turning to face him.
"Do you want to ask me anything? Or do you just want me to talk."
Alastor crossed his arms over his chest, eyebrows raised as he tapped one foot impatiently on the hardwood floor.
"Stupid question." Y/n nodded, "Right."
They took one final steadying, breath and then, they began to speak.
"So, curse. Um... fuck."
It wasn't that they hadn't thought about what they would say before. They had. They had played this moment out in their mind in a hundred different ways a hundred different times. Nothing had ever seemed right, felt right, gone right. Even if it had, they had no idea of where to begin now. The memory of all that practice had been ushered out long ago by the anxiety.
"Some overlords got mad at me and cursed me?" they said at last, their words coming out as more of a question than a definitive truth, "I..."
"Is this why you always left? Is this..." Alastor ran a hand through his hair, looking away, "is this what your secret was? The curse?"
Y/n nodded and Alastor sighed.
"I know you must be furious." Y/n began, trying to keep their voice steady, "Angry that I was so foolish as to allow-"
"That's not why I am angry, Y/n." Alastor cut in, "That's not why..." he shook his head, "I am angry because you didn't tell me."
The breath caught in Y/n's throat. They took half a step back.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Halfway between an accusation and a plea. He was begging them, he had only done that once before. Y/n hadn't been strong enough then, but they were now.
"Because it was my burden to carry, not yours."
"I carried it anyways! I knew something was wrong, for years! I just had no idea what, no... no... frame of reference. Why didn't you tell me!?"
"I... I..." there was no hiding the truth, Y/n looked away, "I was scared that you would leave."
Alastor watched them in disbeleif.
"And you left anyway." they finished.
"I left because you didn't tell me. We could have stuck together, figured it out. We could have..."
It was Y/n's turn to be angry now. They turned back to him, their eyes alive with fire.
"We could have what?! You could have what?!" the scoffed, "You think I don't know it was all my fault?! You think I don't... don't blame myself for everything?! Didn't know why you really left?! Didn't... didn't realize?! I fucking know that you left because I didn't tell you! I know I caused... that I..." they let out a frustrated little scream, their hands tangling into their hair, "I. Know."
"You could have told me then, why didn't you? Why didn't you stop me if you knew you could!?"
"Because I was scared!"
Their eyes began to grow dark, their skin shifting and writhing like there were bugs crawling beneath its surface. Seeming to notice this, Y/n closed their eyes, taking a few deep breaths before opening them once again.
"Is that the curse?"
"Part of it." they admitted, "If I don't stay calm, I don't get to stay... well, stay me."
The reality of the situation hit Alastor like a ton of bricks, like a moving car. He did his best to calm himself.
"Whats the rest of it?"
Y/n said nothing and so, he tried again.
"I could have helped."
"Helped how, Alastor?" they asked, their voice coming out tired and nearly desperate, "How?"
"I could have found a cure."
"There is none." Y/n shook their head, "Believe me. I can do things to stave it off, keep it at bay but, nothing will take this beast away from me."
"You could try being redeemed."
They raised a fist to their chest, holding it over their heart. A pained expression had taken over their face, their body curling slightly in on itself.
"I don't want to. Not anymore. It... this thing... it's a part of me now. Besides, I couldn't leave Charlie."
"She has lots of people who care about her, people to take care of her. I am certain she would be fine."
"No, you don't understand." Y/n shook their head, "I can't leave her. I know she'd be fine on her own. She is such a wonder, such an incredible person. I need her."
"I wanted you."
Y/n straightened up, their eyes meeting his as their hand fell back to their side. They stared at one another in silence.
"I am sorry."
Alastor had never expected to hear those words. Not from them, not from anybody. He wasn't worthy of apology.
"I am too."
----
NEXT PART -> coming soon
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milkyboybluewriter · 2 months ago
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The Disappointing Case of Wendy Corduroy
Wendy Corduroy has a lot of potential, but too often is pushed to the side by a lot of fans, and even by her creator.  But not for lack of trying, or an interest in the character.  In fact, Alex’s idealised view of Wendy may have been her greatest obstacle in receiving a story of her own.  Dipper isn’t the only one who seems to consider her ‘the coolest person he knows.’
Wendy was inspired by the first girl who ever spoke to Alex Hirsch, as well as several people the creative team thought were cooler than them. These were likely special memories or people in order to base a fictional character on them.  But that puts her on a pedestal.  And when someone puts you up there, it’s hard for them to take you back down.  Either for fear of ruining you or concern that, when others look closer, they’ll be disappointed in what they see.
He wanted her to be a main character (in the same way Soos is, if not Stan, Dipper, or Mabel) but in many ways Wendy feels like a side character.  She never receives her own episode, and lacks the character arc that even some side characters like Pacifica and Robbie received.
Her family, her friends inside the Shack and out, her physical abilities and survival skills, the drama of being a teenager, not to mention being a resident of the weirdest place on Earth.  All of these can lead to a hundred stories across the spectrum.  So why do people not write more stories about her?
Maybe it’s because she wasn’t given the opportunity that others had.  
As a cool, older redhead, Wendy’s main role in the show was being Dipper’s crush.  Which already puts her at a disadvantage because it means they designed her purpose first, character second. In fact, this is probably why she changed so drastically from her vegan-hippie prototype seen in the Gravity Falls bible.  Everything from her boots to her hat has changed since then, save the way she makes Dipper’s heart go faster.  
Most of her appearances in season one featured this one-sided romance and Dipper’s attempts to impress her, which usually resulted in a morality lesson about being yourself and not doing dumb stuff to impress others.  Pretty standard cartoon crush territory.  But between the episodes, a real friendship bloomed. 
In The Time Traveller's Pig, she gives an indifferent shrug as she casually agrees to go to the fair with Dipper, yet before her injury - and in the timeline where she avoids it altogether - she’s shown to genuinely enjoy his company.  A couple of episodes later and she’s outright excited at the prospect of working alongside Dipper at the pool.  They have regular movie nights.  They crack jokes and tease the Shack’s customers.  Climb trees and play at the arcade.  Wendy spends more time with Dipper than any other character.  Which means she must care about him more than she does the rest.
The crush might be one-sided but the affection is not.
But in the DVD commentary of Into The Bunker, Alex Hirsch, Matt Chapman, and Rob Renzetti mention that fan feedback convinced them to end Dipper’s crush sooner rather than later, even supposedly having ‘KILL THE CRUSH’ as one of their main story goals for season 2.  Understandable.  The crush episodes weren’t always the best, and if it was always intended as an unrequited attraction then better to get it over with rather than draw it out.  And it’s a good lesson to have a young boy learn, especially around twelve.  Love and puberty are relatable, but no less frustrating for it.
Into the Bunker is my favourite episode for multiple reasons, not least for Wendy’s presence in it.  She shows off her friendship with Dipper in the cold open, reveals her lumberjack and fighting skills later, and shows she would be an excellent adventurer.  I see it as a prime example of What Could Have Been.  I especially adore the ending, where she lets Dipper down so gently, it’s a beautiful scene.  As sad as Dipper feels, he’s also been told by someone very special to him that he’s very special to her too.  Maybe not in the way he wants, but perhaps in an even more important way.  
I had high hopes after that episode.  I remember thinking this meant she would develop beyond just being his crush, especially now we’d seen her hold her own against the weirdness and danger.  I really wanted to see more of this adventurous, sensitive Wendy we’d missed in season one, and wanted her to be a regular companion and friend to the twins.
Wendy appears in 16 episodes in the first season, and 15 episodes in the second if you don’t split Weirdmageddon 3 into two.  In season one she appeared in but didn’t participate in the adventure of key episodes like Dreamscaperers or Gideon rises.  In season two, she joins the adventure in Society of the Blind Eye, The Last Mabelcorn, and the Weirdmageddon trilogy, but has limited interaction or story impact in most episodes, save Love God.   She only has what amounts to cameo appearances in Not What He Seems and Tale of Two Stans, two of if not the most important episodes of the series.  
Including each of the Weirdmageddon trilogy, she’s referenced via Dipper’s lingering crush six times, including episodes she doesn’t even appear in.  So, after Into The Bunker, Wendy goes from being Dipper’s crush to…his crush that appears less.  
Wow, they really failed that Kill the Crush mission, didn’t they?
Perhaps the biggest issue is that she is so keenly tied to Dipper.  I love the Dipper and Wendy relationship, I could write a massive essay on that alone.  But it is such an incredible waste that she didn’t get a chance to interact with the others nearly so often. Every other main character has relationships with others.  Soos has a father-son bond with Stan as well as a friendship with the twins.  Ford was introduced later in season 2 and still interacts with Soos and Fiddleford as well as his family.  It’s a hindrance to her character that most of her interactions were for Dipper’s arc, yet she received nothing of her own.  
Wendy spends some time with Mabel, trying to help her with boy trouble (not the best person to get dating advice from, Mabel) in Hand That Rocks the Mabel and Society of the Blind Eye, then goes along with the girls to keep them safe in Last Mabelcorn.  This lets us see her affection and big sister vibes don’t end with Dipper, and should have been explored far more.  Her interactions with Soos and Stan are also limited, mainly to the workplace.  Her only dialogue with Ford is one line in Journal 3.  
Yet we also never see her be by herself.  We never see her home life, or how she entertains herself away from her friends or work. She's always interacting with a main character or her group of friends.  No alone time or personal interests are seen beyond pranks and reading magazines to avoid work.
We even get to see Robbie Valentino’s home life and musical hobbies, but not hers.
This lack of independent material has even continued in the Book of Bill where two of her very limited mentions is in regards to Dipper being stuck on a tree and another is his search history.  Even her own dream is made into a joke at Dipper's expense.  Ten years later, and so much of her is tied to Dipper, specifically to mock his feelings for her.  I don’t know if that’s more insulting to Dipper or Wendy at this point.
Speaking of dreams, let’s get to another issue: her mother.  Who we know nothing about.  In a show so heavily focussed on mysteries, the fate of Mrs Corduroy is a question that’s been left hanging since season one and we have come no closer to an answer of any kind.  Even a direct question from fans on both the Alex Hirsch and Bill Cipher AMAs were answered so vaguely they told us nothing.  She’s no longer with her?  A Fountains of Wayne reference?  Even the Book of Bill’s reveal that Wendy dreams about her most nights says nothing.  Are these good dreams?  Nightmares?  Memories?  The implication is that she’s dead, yet not even that has been confirmed.  For all we know, Mrs Corduroy could be dead, missing, abandoned her family, or could be working on an oil rig for the summer.  Your guess is as good as anyone’s by this point. 
We know she’s Manly Dan’s oldest and his only daughter, but we didn’t even learn her brother’s names until a paste up sheet was released in 2017.  She barely shares a scene with any of them, and when it happens it’s in the background.  The only exception I can think of is their group hug in the Fearamid.  A tender moment which would have been so much better if we’d actually seen her engage with them beforehand.  Her lack of interaction is especially jarring considering her confession in Society of the Blind Eye:  "Okay, I'm not actually laid back. I'm stressed, like, 24/7. Have you met my family?"
Not really, no.  And for a show that’s about family as much as it is about mystery, it’s a shame that Wendy is let down in both areas.  
Even side characters like Robbie, Pacifica, and Grenda receive more character development, despite their limited importance or screen time.  In fact, it was recently pointed out to me that Archibald Corduroy, Wendy’s ancestor, is more integral to Pacifica than his own descendant.  Once again, Wendy’s interactions come up short, including from her own family.  
With the release of the Book of Bill, some people were hopeful that she might finally get some attention.  I wasn’t.  Personally, I think Bill simply has a low opinion of Wendy anyway since he called her a pushover in his AMA, so it can be fitting he doesn’t mention her often.  But it’s also the context of these mentions, and those on the website.  On Thisisnotawebsite.com she’s referred to twice - Her one contribution is a simple note where she pranks the reader.  Then she’s mentioned in Stan’s list of embarrassing moments.  
Ten years later and not only are her contributions incredibly minor, but they’re as much to do with other people as herself, if not more so.  She’s supposed to be a main character but she might as well be a cameo.
Her lack of representation is so bad, that I realised my friends were celebrating her being mentioned in The Book of Bill.  That’s how desperate we’ve become for Wendy material.  And I’m sick of it.   At this point, I’m anticipating a Wendy story as much as I am Winds of Winter.
Last month I was discussing some of my writing ideas with my father.  And he gave me a very hard truth: it doesn’t matter how good your ideas are, if you don’t act on them, they’re only ideas.  And he was absolutely right.  It doesn’t matter how great these ideas are in my head, if they’re only in my head then what good are they? 
Hirsch has been saying for years he’s wanted to do more with Wendy, but he hasn’t. Not in the show, the comics, or the other material.  Intentions, like ideas, are useless if you don’t do something about them.
I honestly hate how harsh this sounds.  I love Gravity Falls.  And I love Wendy.  And I believe Alex Hirsch does too, he just…doesn’t know what to do with her.  As he says in the Inconveniencing commentary: “We wanted to honour her so much that we couldn’t figure out the right episode with her because we didn’t want to mess her up.”  He’s put her on a pedestal just like Dipper did.  And I think she needs to come down so we can see how awesome she really is.
So, what can be done to fix this?  Well, when creators don’t have the time, interest, or ability to do something for a series, that leaves the fans to fill in the gap.  
I urge other Gravity Falls enthusiasts to try and give her the attention and character development she sorely deserves, especially now there’s a resurgence of activity and interest.  Draw or write her if you can, have her interact with other characters, not just be a crush, explore her depths.  And if you can’t, seek out those who have or can and ask their advice, or thank them for their work, offer encouragement.  For Wendy if not for them.
I want to leave this on a happier note and say that I’m going to follow this up soon with another essay, this time offering advice on writing Wendy.  Even talented writers I admire have surprised me by saying they struggle to write her, yet I’ve found it pretty easy.  So hopefully I can encourage other people to write her too.   
But if I could summarise what I want to see and what I think will help people write Wendy, it would be this: She’s not just Dipper’s crush, and she’s not just the cool girl.  She’s bigger than that.
She’s Wendy Flippin’ Corduroy and she deserves so much more.
Cheers, Milky Boy Blue
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whateverisbeautiful · 2 months ago
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♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL
#41: The Loving Memory (1.04)
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gif cred: @riickgrimes
The Ones Who Live asks the question - what happens when a hero needs saving? And when the hero needs saving from external and internal shackles that have led them to become the most despondent version of the walking dead, it’s not exerting brute force nor attempts at world domination that heals them. No, it’s being loved back to life by the one you were made for and who was made for you.
So that's exactly what happens next. Following Rick finally letting out all his truest emotions after keeping them inside for years, there now comes the outstanding resolution between Rick, Michonne, and the boy who first made them family ❤️‍🩹...
Michonne again lovingly puts her hands on Rick's face after that just breathtaking profession of pain and love from Rick and stellar performance from Andy.
And then Michonne proves for the umpteenth time that she is the greatest wife, woman, mother, and best friend ever when she takes out a phone with a sketch of Carl on it and ever-so-gently places it in Rick's hand.
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Y’ALL. 🫠 How perfect can one episode be? 😭
This was such a beautiful moment and I adore everything about it. I love that even amid her and Rick's conflict in episode 3, Michonne understood how much these phone portraits meant to Rick and so she had one made of Carl after learning that Rick was having trouble remembering his image. It is so heartwarming to know that she worked with Benjiro and got the image of their boy just right for Rick. 🥹 And this was the perfect time to give him this gift.
In this apartment, Michonne essentially gave Rick both his sons back. 😭
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The fact that she of course got the image right and that it’s one with Carl's eyepatch because that’s their most recent memory of him and they loved him both with one eye or two. 🥲
I also adore the way she places it in his hand and continues to hold onto his arm. So loving. 🥹 The moment really feels like it parallels the way she placed the PRB in his hand earlier in the episode too.
The PRB is what Rick thought would save them but it’s actually the memory of Carl that helps save them and bring them back together. It’s poetic, it’s powerful, it’s perfect. 👏🏽
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And how fitting that Carl plays this pivotal role in helping Richonne fully return to each other, considering Carl was pivotal to bringing Richonne together years ago as well.
It's like I wrote in a previous post --- Since the moment Rick and Michonne laid eyes on each other, Carl was there helping bring them together and ultimately helping them realize they were meant to be family. And years later, even from the other side, Carl helped bring Rick and Michonne together again. 🥲
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(Side note: I believe I remember Danai said she wrote Carl's letter to Michonne as she read it to herself while crying in season 8. And knowing the power of Danai’s pen, I'm so curious about what she wrote in that letter because Danai has always had such a solid understanding of Carl’s importance to Michonne & Rick)
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When Rick sees this phone drawing, literally seeing his first image of Carl in over eight years, he takes this teary breath and then recalls the memory of holding little Carl’s hand and lifting him up.
And then this episode just wants to full-on sock me in the heart by then showing a memory of Rick putting a hat on the older Carl. 😭
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I love the way this indicates that the memory of Carl so quickly returned to Rick and he was able to remember him not just as a little kid but his older version too.
TWD started with Rick doing everything to fight for his boy and then Carl grew up to fight for him too. And now here in TOWL, Rick’s journey is still so deeply impacted by his son. Beautiful.
Rick gives Michonne a teary look as she just did the most invaluable thing ever and gave him his son's memory back. You can really see that it means so much to Rick to finally have the image of Carl come back to his mind. He loves his son so much. 😭 I absolutely adore the way TOWL made regaining the memory of Carl's face a vital element of Rick finding himself again.
And then Michonne gently asks, “If Carl were here right now, what would he say? What would he want you to do with this new chance to be with those you love?” And then I love her little kind “hmm?”
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Even by asking these questions it’s showing that she knows Rick still knows his son. He might have lost the image of Carl for a few years, but he still knows his boy. And Michonne knows he knows what Carl would say and want for his dad. Carl always wanted the best for Rick, and the best thing for him is to be with his family.
And the way Rick looks at Michonne here it really feels like just when he thought he couldn’t fall any deeper in love with her, he just has.
It also makes so much sense why Rick lost the image of Carl because with the CRM he had nothing to tether him to his son besides himself who was under psychological warfare and constant duress. Back at home, Rick had his wife/son’s best friend and mom, his daughter/Carl’s sister, Carl’s grave, Carl’s handprint, and the community Carl grew up in to constantly keep his son’s memory alive. And he could have had RJ too who would have literal traits of Carl.
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This just proves yet another reason why it had to be Michonne to rescue Rick. Cuz after feeling he lost Carl, Rick needed to be with one of the people who Carl most lived on through and who could give Carl back to him - or better yet help him realize he never lost his son. 
I love the way Michonne has always honored Carl’s memory and how because of that she’s now able to give his memory back to his dad. 
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gif cred: @jdeanmorgan
And then Michonne has such inspiring rousing final dialogue as she says, “Despite all the odds, all the years, I found you, Rick.” My gosh, the wait was worth it, y'all. 🙌🏽 To hear that line said between Richonne after all the years of waiting. Blessed. 🥹🙏🏽
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Then Michonne earnestly says, “I came here through the hell that we have both been through to take you home.” I love that she says the hell they’ve both been through. They’ve gone through so much, and while a lot of it was experienced apart the last few years, that synergistic soulmate connection really makes it feel like they still went through a lot together too.
Like how they both had their worst year ever during the same year - the year Michonne was stuck in a mall after being attacked by the CRM externally while Rick was attacked by the CRM internally when he chose to live dead. Richonne’s journeys like their souls are always interconnected. 👌🏽
I love the music in this moment too as Rick’s breathing slowly steadies and he looks from Michonne to the phone with tears falling. In this moment Rick really gets to grasp how loved he is.
He was fighting so hard on his own but now he gets to hear from Michonne that he was actually never fighting alone because she was fighting for him too. Just like he was trying to get home, she was working to bring him home as well, from setting off to search for him to getting a phone portrait of Carl made for him. 🥲
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gif cred: jdeanmorgan
And then Michonne says, “You think that’s all for nothing?” And when she says that they cut to Rick who again has one of those expressions that make it so clear that Alive Rick has the wheel. Like Dead Rick is no more and once again he’s come alive both through and for Michonne.
Michonne says, “For us to just go our separate ways?” Richonne intentionally going their separate ways genuinely feels like an impossible thing for them to do and for me to even wrap my head around. It's simply not an option for these magnetic soulmates.
And then Michonne is beautifully glowing under the TOWL-improved lighting as she wipes a tear from Rick's face and smiles as she assures him, “No. We go home, Rick.”
The way she says that. 😭 This episode holds the record for the number of times my heart bursts. And I love that we now have multiple scenes of Richonne wiping each other's tears over the years. 🥲
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Then Michonne continues, “And we figure out how to protect it together.” Michonne knows their home will still need protection from those outside forces and threats. But what she knows even more is that she and Rick can succeed in protecting their kids and their home if they’re together.
Rick looks down and then I adore the way Michonne lifts up his head and says, “That’s how we make it all make sense.”
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I've always felt like the one who makes the most sense in the world to Rick is Michonne. Everything about her just resonates with him on a deeper level. She can always help him see clearer and that was crystal clear in this scene as well.
And I love how Michonne holding Rick's head up at this moment reminds me of when he hung his head in his TWD 9.05 hallucination and she lifted him up there too. Now he gets to experience the invigorating spirit-lifting presence of Michonne in real life again, and I love that for him. 😊
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Lastly, Michonne tells Rick one of my favorite lines when she says, “We love on each other as hard as we can while we can.”  I love that that’s the final dialogue of this masterpiece of a scene. It’s a beautiful sentiment. 🥹
And I actually like that they don’t ever end up saying “We’re the one who live” within the miniseries because while it’s true and a great motto, I think this show took on an even more grounded and layered exploration of what happens when you stop living or when you become scared of the love of your life inevitably no longer living.
So instead, Rick and Michonne now know even if we don’t live - our love does.
They're the ones whose love lives. Their love lives on forever, and so long as they’re alive they know they shouldn’t run from that. They should love on each other as hard as they can during the valuable time they do have. That’s just so special to me and so I adore that they conclude this by deciding not only to go home but to allow their hearts to love each other as robustly as they’re meant to. 
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With Michonne saying this it's essentially saying - even if we don’t have forever, we can make the time we do have feel like it if we live in this love wholeheartedly.
And then I adore the way she puts her hand on his face with a tear so lightly fallen against her skin and looks deep in his eyes with that precious smile. That moment just felt like she saw him. She finally saw and reunited with her Rick. The search is over, y’all. 🥳 She found him for real this time. And that makes my heart so warm to see her know that Rick is with her again just from looking into the love of her life's eyes. 🥰
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gif cred: @richonnegifs
You can see the “there he is” moment and truly the acting Danai and Andy can do with just their eyes alone is profound.
Then it’s Andy’s turn to express so much with just his eyes when Rick looks at Michonne with the warmest teary eyes as he has so clearly gotten his entire life from her words, just like old times. Except this time he pretty much literally got his life back through her.
I love the way he looks at her like if his heart for her got any bigger it would pop. I know after this he’s more convinced than ever that Michonne is perfect to him and the love of his life.
I adore seeing him gently put his hand on her face like she’s the greatest treasure in all the land. His look just felt like ‘there she is. I see her fully now and I know she’s worth choosing even over the fear of losing her.' Having her is his life’s reward. 💯 And he's finally ready to embrace that reward again and return to life with her.
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gif cred: @richonnegifs
I believe you fall the deepest in love in a relationship where you know you’ll fall and be caught.
Rick and Michonne are able to be so fully invested in, immersed in, and enwrapped in this love because they know they can fall this deeply and unabashedly and always be caught and lifted up.
It also makes me think of the Toni Morrison quote - “I didn’t fall in love, I rose in it.” I feel like that applies to Rick and Michonne so much.
Finding this vibrant and synergistic love with someone as respectable and resilient as Rick made Michonne heal and be all of herself again after so much had been taken from her. Back in TWD, Michonne knew she was able to rise out of the dead state she had been in thanks to being brought back by Rick. And Carl too. 🥲
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And Rick found the best version of himself in finding love with someone as radiant and remarkable as Michonne. She met him at a time when he was understandably really struggling mentally. But then he found her and found a partner capable of lovingly walking with him through both the best and hardest seasons of life. And a healed Rick arose from their love.
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Now here in TOWL, Rick knows he has risen from the dead through Michonne's love. He's fully aware that despite trying to stay dead, the love of his life has successfully resurrected his spirit and made him come alive again.
And after the two have poured their heart out and he’s regained the image of his eldest son with her help, he’s no longer trying to fight being alive. 🙌🏽 He can now leap back into life and know with Michonne by his side, he'll be caught. And Michonne can do the same and be caught by him now too. 🥹 And they'll rise up against anything else that comes their way.
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Then, I absolutely love the kiss that punctuates the end of this immaculate scene. 🤩
The visual of it is beautiful with Richonne matching in black. It really feels like the two of them being in this black is almost like Richonne had to both traverse through the CRM’s dark hold but after being vulnerable they’re now here on the other side. Together.
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gif cred: @lousolversons
As always, I love those single Richonne kisses and this one is of course gold. We got us a couple who can go from their freakiest kiss to this utterly wholesome kiss all in one setting, y'all. 😇
And the intimacy of the way they touch before and after the kiss and stay looking into each other's eyes with a smile as they finally agree to go home. We truly witnessed them restore each other back to life through the greatest Richonne heart-to-heart ever. 🥹
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gif cred: @nerd4music
These Richonne heart-to-hearts always bring them back, from TWD to TOWL. 🙌🏽
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One last time I just gotta say - this ep 4 scene again solidifies why the only person capable of bringing Rick home was Michonne. Because Rick didn’t just need a literal rescue but a physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual revival. He didn’t need to just be brought back home, he needed to be brought back to life. And there is no better person on the planet to do that than the woman who is his heart.
For years, Rick and Michonne had gone without feeling a part of their own heart because they’d been apart. But now in this transcendent moment, after feeling the beating pulse of the heart they share, addressing their physical and internal scars, reflecting on their children, and reconnecting in every way, they feel complete and alive again after years of existing with half their heart miles away.
When I tell you this whole scene - from making love at the start to kissing with tears in their eyes at the end - felt like Love itself chose to take on a physical form and the form it chose was Richonne...
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Somehow calling these moments perfection doesn’t even feel like it does it justice. This was everything and more and I adore it endlessly. #LovePersonified.
When I think about why I love Richonne, why all these years I’ve spent all this time reflecting on these two’s love story…it’s this series of events right here that captures it completely. I love the story of these soulmates because Rick and Michonne have the love supreme and it is forever a joy and an honor to behold. 😇👌🏽
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blingblong55 · 1 year ago
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Money, Money, Money- 141 X Reader X F1
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Based on a request:
Idk if i can put in two requests but please. PLEASE I fucking love f1 Give more cod x f1 I dont care who and what and where, i just need more fics like that Thx for everything bestie(Feel free to ignore) --- GN!Reader, 141 x reader x f1
So I must leave, I'll have to go To Las Vegas or Monaco And win a fortune in a game, my life will never be the same
The fame, the women/men that wanted you to date them, and the adrenaline, are all worth it and all possible if you drive in Formula 1. Twenty of the best drivers in the world, all in ten separate teams, every other weekend for 23 times a year you race around the globe to become the desired World Champion of that season. There was something that was missing, your friends, the military men you met years ago when one got lost and they ended up finding you.
"R/N!" Soap called, running to you for yet another exciting weekend. They were home from a mission and all seemed to be in a good mood. Ghost and Gaz even made sure to bring their caps to support your team. Soap played the role of the boyfriend so other women/men would not bother you. Price made it look like he was your father figure and Gaz and Ghost were always suspected to be your siblings or best friends. Of course, Ghose became loved by your fans, a man who wore a cap and a black surgical mask had become attractive to them. He never cared for it, would sometimes give the camera the bird and soon they learned to never show him again.
The four men had become your luck charm, the drawings of a bar of soap, cap, skull and a bonnie all on your helmet for every race. In a way, they became the second family whilst on the road. It was nice, you got to keep real friends close and have fun and good memories with them.
Soap for some reason played the role of your partner far too well. Suspicions amongst drivers and the media grew as the time went by. Truthfully, if he was your partner, he'd be as supportive as he is now. Maybe even more. Some of the other drivers need police escort whilst all you need is your best mates. Race after race, they would either hear your answerphone or you'd be on screen pointing at your helmet, your four drawn luck charms on it.
This race was one you were looking forward to, the Brazilian GP. All honouring the late Ayrton Senna, the favourite driver in Brazil, Hamilton and rooting for your two current rivals, Verstappen and Sainz. By Tuesday, you met up with Price, he was alone, which was weird. Soap was usually the first hug of the day. "So, where are the rest?" you kindly ask.
"Getting some rest, they had a rough flight." a lie he told that you believed. In truth, they had used this visit for a mission, most people would be focused on the race and that meant they had time to execute some mission. You believed him because the only lie he had told years ago was that they were just pub mates on a weekend out, never that they were trained soldiers who happened to be in the elite military force that is known as SAS. Brutal, strong and agile, that is who they are, not pub mates.
As the day went on, Price disappeared from sight. Instead of the usual welcome lunch they'd have with you, you walked around the paddock, wandering like a child.
Hours went on, but no text or call. Just a greeting from the answerphone, "It's me, just leave a message." But that's the problem, you never left a message, They knew how nervous this race was for you, Soap would always answer but why not now? You needed his usual comments, the banter Ghost gave and the shoulder pats Gaz gave you.
Somewhere in the country, the men executed their mission with absolute perfection. Few bruises and scratches, nothing new except this time they lied to you, if it wasn't for their mission to be in Brazil and your race to be happening at the same time, they would have not shown up. They'd be elsewhere, fighting for a good reason but not visiting you at the track. Gaz felt awful, having to lie to his best friend about what he was doing, even after them confining in you about what they do for a living, they still wouldn't and don't expect you to actually understand their reasoning for not telling you about this mission.
There you were, on the big screen as you answered questions over the best qualifying session you've had all season. They sneak in, trying to pretend like they didn't just kill the enemy and its soldiers.
"A perfect qualifying, what do you say to that R/N?" the interviewer said. You sigh in contentment, "Yeah, well it is amazing to have had such amazing times at each lap, I'm sure the team and I will want to keep these numbers and maybe go faster for tomorrow's race." You say and most of the crowd cheers in agreement. Soap should know but this time around he is lost, how great was your time? Did you go for pole position or are you just in the top three? Gaz definitely feels like a bad friend, not there to actually watch you like he always did.
After each qualifying, you'd greet them, run up to them and hug them but because you thought they weren't there, you just went towards the team and hugged them. From a distance, the men saw you celebrate as if they never existed in your life. It was them who you were supposed to hug, them who you should run up to. Soap was supposed to pat your helmet and you'd complain about it later.
Usually after the hug, you'd greet fans then the usual interviews or meetings with the team would take place. It wasn't until after 8 at night that they saw you again. They learned that you broke a new record for the team. Your speed was impeccable, and they weren't even there to witness such a memorable moment for you.
A/N: I think I went off my original idea to this...sorry
Tags: @agasawit
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lina-lovebug · 1 year ago
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I Will Protect You
Adam Warlock x fem! Reader
Reader is Gamora and Nebula younger sister. Seems to be a trend with Thanos' daughters to fall for goofy men.
Warnings: ptsd, torture, cursing
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Adam did not know love.
He knows his mother loved him. That even though his sole purpose was to kill and work for the Sovereign, he could feel his mother's love for him.
But being in love?
He never thought about it. It was never a priority, especially as a killer who would have no business being intrigued by anything else other than what he was ordered.
"You are an idiot."
"What?"
"But I must say I admire your technique. Staring is also how I got my wife to notice me. Although I did it for hours on end until she noticed."
Drax told Adam, who was staring longingly at (Y/N), the sister to Gamora and Nebula and their resident healer. Adam watched as a pink light emitted from her palms, healing a small injury on one of the children's knees.
"She's very pretty," Adam breathed out. Yes, he had seen specimens that were 'perfect', but you were something entirely different. Your laughter was genuine and kind, and your smile held no ill intentions behind it.
"Drax, I feel sick when I am around her. Like my stomach gets all fuzzy and weird, and-and I can't think straight. Did she poison me?" Adam asked, wondering truly if you despised him secretly.
After all, your first encounter was not a good one.
Adam recalled being beneath you as you held a blade to his throat, pressing it hard enough to draw blood and the rage in your eyes was something to remember.
He now held a small scar on his neck.
"Silly golden man," Drax patted his shoulder, "you love her."
"Love? Are you sure?" He glanced back to where you were but you disappeared.
"What should I do?"
Oh if only he should have known that Drax was the worst person to ask for advice.
_
"I'm sorry."
I turned around to see Gamora. Her arms were crossed, she was guarding herself, as she looked at me with sad eyes.
"You have nothing to-"
"You had someone who was openly loving and caring, and that's not me," I swallowed a lump in my throat. Gamora changed once she realized that Nebula and I just needed a sister, not a combat partner. I saw her make that effort, and she learned my love languages and learned who I was as a person.
When she died, I felt a part of myself die with her.
And when this new Gamora, or old Gamora, had shown up, I wanted that back. But she was just as cruel and as mean as when we first fought and she beat me.
"Wow, you don't think I know that?" I retorted, avoiding eye contact as I continued to polish my knives.
"From our first fight when Thanos pit us against each other, I knew you were only looking out for the best. That you needed to be the golden girl in order to survive, but did you know what he did?" I asked, finally looking at her.
"Yeah, Nebula-"
"No, not to Nebula," I interrupted, standing up.
"When I was eight and kept losing, he didn't just lock me in my room. He had Ebony Maw do things to me. . .he started slow by making incisions in my back to see how much I could scream, and then did this," I lifted up my shirt and her eyes widened.
"He started putting viles inside of me that he found on other planet's to see how my body would react to them. That's how I got my power to heal," I explained, "but every experiment, every needle - it left behind this."
My stomach and back held my memories. It was littered in scars that would never go away and ruined me.
"I-I didn't-"
"No one knew. Not even Nebula until a few years ago," I admitted.
"I get why you fought so hard but. . .I don't think I can forgive you."
Gamora looked like she had just seen what hell was like. A light mist formed over her eyes, realizing that whenever she won, someone else had paid the price.
"I know you'll never be her," I admitted, "but you could at least try to act like we were sisters."
"You are," She grasped my hands tightly in her own, "you've always been. I'm sorry I never saw it until now."
I removed myself from her, "I know you mean it, but I'm going to need you to go."
She hesitated but nodded, "ok."
Gamora shut the door behind her and wanted to scream. All of the "What ifs" plagued her mind, wondering what would have happened if only she had noticed sooner. But before any tears could escape, she heard a shuffle and spotted the golden boy lurking.
He looked just like she did.
Shocked and furious.
"If you do anything to hurt her, I will slit your throat in your sleep," Gamora told him before walking off, leaving him stunned.
The mere thought of someone making you cry made Adam furious beyond belief, but torturing you? Seeing how loud you could scream - how much pain you could take?
He didn't know understand love but that was not it.
Adam was initially going to go to your room and try to 'woo' you, as Drax said to do. But now, all he felt was rage. He knew Thanos was dead, along with everyone who worked for him, so he didn't know where to put this anger.
"(Y/N)?"
"Adam, now is not a good ti-" as I turned around to face him, all I saw was anger. Red flashed across his face, just like the first time we fought.
"Adam? Are you okay?" I questioned.
"I-I feel angry, and I don't know what to do. I want to kill him," Adam ranted.
"Kill him? Who?"
"Thanos."
The name still left a mark on my mind and it made me want to vomit.
"He-he's dead, Adam," I said.
"I know. But he needs to pay for what he's done to you. It isn't fair. No one so kind, so generous and loving should ever experience that," He ranted, unknowingly confirming that Adam knew exactly what Thanos did to you.
"You heard. . ." This was my fear. I finally found someone who makes me smile and makes my heart race whenever we're together, and he knows.
He knows I'm fucked up. He knows I have ugly scars that'll never disappear. He knows I have a dark childhood. He knows I'm-
He shook me from my mind by placing his hands on my shoulders, "I want to protect you. From now on, no one will ever lay a hand on you again. I'll do whatever it takes, (Y/N), I promise."
"Why?"
"Drax says it's because I love you. I only knew my mother's love but I know that when I see you, I want to make you smile. I want you to be happy and always laughing and never upset."
Love? Shit, I didn't know the first thing about it. I always thought that the torture and the lectures were love because a father always wants you to do your best. But after the guardians, I felt lost. This friendship and trust, it was love, but how could I ever replicate that?
"Adam, are you. . .sure?"
He was caught off guard, "yes, I am. Do you not love me?"
"I do, but I don't know how to express that. You deserve someone who does," I told him.
"What do you do with someone you love?" He questioned.
"You hug them, you show that you're there for them no matter what, you learn what they like, you show it in physical ways. You kiss-"
"Then kiss me," His boldness made my whole body still and I felt like face become hot.
"What?"
"If you love me, then kiss me," He stated, still as blunt as ever. My heart was running a mile, and my mind was screaming at me to stop.
But I couldn't.
I lifted my face to his and kissed him. I expected it to be a small peck, but my body wanted more. I yearned for his gentle touch and placed his hands on my waist as he gently kissed back, still unsure about his movements. His lips were soft against mine, following what I did. As I pulled away for air, he pulled me back in. It made me gasp as his hands held me firmly, his lips desperate for mine. I felt breathless as he held me closer, and my hands began to venture into his hair.
"Seriously?!"
Peter's voice made me pull back, frightened that he had seen.
"Everyone but me!" He shouted as he walked away, and I was still firm against Adam's chest.
"I thought kissing was a private affair," Adam said, confused.
"Y-yeah, it is, but my door is open. Adam, you're sure you want this? With me?" I asked, still frazzled at the kiss.
"I only want you, and we can learn how to love each together, right?" He said, so innocent but so willing.
"Yes, we can," I smiled.
"I heard of this thing called cuddling and it sounds nice. Can we do that too?"
I gave him a soft kiss, "for however long you want."
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imagine-knowing-a-name · 8 months ago
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but he doesn't know who i am
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Summary: Vision learns about Wanda's 2am gym visits and the nightly meetup you'd been anticipating with the witch becomes... something else.
I really can't write summaries: basically Vision's introduction to the series and him meeting R 😭
Word Count: 1357 Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader Warnings: back at it again with the self-doubt Part 4 of 'Half of My Hometown' series masterlist <- previous part | next part ->
»»————- ★ ————-««
“Miss Maximoff, are you quite alright? You are usually not this tired from training.”
Wanda sighs, forcing a smile as she turns towards the approaching synthezoid. 
“I'm fine, Vision, thank you. I just had a late night.”
“Were you having nightmares again? They can be common for quite some time after going through traumatic events, such as what you experienced with your family and city.”
“I wasn’t,” Wanda snaps, in a tone which comes out harsher than she had intended. She presses the base of her palm to her eyes in a show of exaggerated tiredness in order to hide the growing anger in her gaze – she knows Vision is trying to help, but something about his phrasing, combined with her limited sleep, draws out her ire. Wanda is overcome by a sudden desire to be talking with you instead, you would understand. While Vision clearly pities her for her life’s tragedies, you know what it’s like – you’ve experienced it. Vision wants her to forget her nightmares, whereas you replenish her mind with the happier moments, even patching her near-forgotten memories with your own recollection of events. Vision is telling her to make a life in the present, but you help her rebuild the foundations of her past.
Wanda tries to bury the comparison; the android is trying his best to understand, and she has only had one full conversation with you since you reunited, so could she really say that all conversations would be like that? She hopes they are, since memories of the five hours of carefree talking still linger fresh in her mind, tugging the corners of her lips upwards whenever she dwells on it.
“I didn't have nightmares,” Wanda continues at last. “Not last night. I went to the gym and lost track of time” – not quite a lie – “it's nicest at 2am, I think, always quiet.”
“Ah, I see,” Vision says, seemingly oblivious to the Sokovian’s inner turmoil, “shall we focus on powers together this session then, if you’ve already exercised in the night? Overworking on the machines can lead to-”
“Yeah, Vision, that sounds good,” Wanda interrupts, not wanting another explanation, “let's work on powers.”
»»————- ★ ————-««
You’re lucky that the Compound is sparse in the early hours, because you’re certain you look like an idiot having to fight a grin every time you let your memory wander back to the night before – five hours spent talking with Wanda, yet it had been so comfortable that it hadn’t felt like any time at all. And to top it all off, she had been the one to ask you to do it all over again, with her enthusiasm so explicitly shown that it had left no room for doubt in your mind; she had enjoyed the night just as much as you.
So you smile all through your patrol route that night, watching the clock tick closer and closer to the promised 2am until, eventually, you round the corner and she comes into view.
“Wanda!” you greet cheerily. She’s leaning against a pillar and looking down at her phone but her head shoots up and, upon seeing you, a beaming smile spreads across her face.
“Hi,” she says, and there's once again an awkward moment where neither of you know the right move or what to say. Do you hug her? Kiss her cheek? You'd like to, but, once again, you're interrupted before you can take action.
“Ah, Wanda, you're still here!” a voice calls out. Wanda’s gaze drifts behind you and you abruptly swivel in place to see who is interrupting your time together. Whatever you expected, it isn't this.
Despite the English accent in his voice, the man was decidedly… not English, or human for that matter. The red, humanoid figure floats his way towards you, with the yellow jewel embedded in his head glowing softly.
“Vision, what are you doing up?” Wanda asks, clearly familiar with the man as she takes a step forward, while you take a step back to the sidelines.
“My sleep cycle is only designed to replicate that of a human’s, it's not actually necessary for me.”
You consider asking if he needs to recharge, and how long his batteries last, but you think better of it, not wanting to insult anyone close to Wanda.
“You said this morning that you go to the gym at this time, so I thought I might join you. Then you won't lose track of time and be tired during training, like today,” Vision continues. The same pang of guilt as last night hits you again, since it was your fault that Wanda stayed up so late – Wanda's request to meet again had pushed the responsibility to the back of your mind, but if she's complained about the tiredness to her teammates, then perhaps she had wanted to sleep earlier, but only stayed around and asked to meet at 2am out of politeness, to fit your schedule, rather than her own.
“That's kind of you, Vision, but, uh-” she glances briefly at you, and it's like Vision only just realises you're there too.
“I'm Y/N,” you interrupt, holding a hand out for the newcomer to shake. He looks over at you somewhat indignantly, as if shocked that you would interrupt Wanda's answer, but you know her well enough to know she had been stalling for her next words. Wanda’s relieved reaction to your words is only further confirmation of that.
“Vision,” he introduces, “do you two know each other?”
You glance over to Wanda now, unsure what she wants to reveal to the robot. She takes the hint and seamlessly continues the conversation on your behalf,
“Y/N and I grew up together, back in Sokovia.”
“Oh, and you both ended up here. What a coincidence.”
“Yeah.” You laugh awkwardly. Although there's still the comfort of Wanda standing by your side, the conversation feels stilted and forced with Vision in the room. “I should probably get back to my patrol,” you say after a few more minutes of discussion – which felt more like an interview of Vision against you and Wanda.
Wanda nods her head and shuffles closer to you, but Vision speaks up before she can.
“Yes, Wanda and I should probably get started at the gym too; then you won't have to be up too late!” he says, the last part directed to Wanda only.
Her eyes flick between you and Vision again, the choice of who to go with and who to disappoint suddenly presented before her. Her head is low and she’s fiddling with her rings again, so you make the choice for her before she next speaks.
“Vision is right; I'm sure you both have to be up early for training tomorrow so don't let me keep you.”
Wanda’s head shoots up at you with a wide-eyed glare and you duck your head to avoid meeting her eyes; if she could see into them, then maybe she would see that you didn't want her to leave, that you wanted her to come around with you and talk like the night before. 
But to say that would be selfish.
Wanda and you aren’t 12 anymore, you both have responsibilities beyond each other and you can’t allow yourself to get in the way of that for her. Wanda is an Avenger now, and you have to remind yourself that the eyes of the world rest on her, constantly judging and scrutinising her performance in the field. She needs public opinion of her to stay positive – that comes from good performance, and good performance comes from properly training with her teammates. You’d kept her from the gym the night before, and caused the tiredness which had impacted her training enough that had taken note; you couldn’t let that happen again. So you pretend to want her company less than Vision, make the choice so she doesn't have to, and walk away with nothing more than a forced smile and a wave, even when you catch the disappointed look on Wanda's face as she watches you leave.
It's for her own good.
You'll always do what's best for Wanda.
next part ->
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A/N: I might give up on the gifs at the start, I'm gonna run out at this rate 😭 Anywayyyy, shortish chapter and sorry for the delay! Been a busy week of avoiding my uni work. As always, reblogs and comments are amazing and keep me going, and I hope to have the next part out soon :)
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jadeleechsupportgroup · 4 months ago
Text
Bittersweet
malleus as therapy.
cw: mental illness, suicide mention/ideation, overdose mention, psychological trauma. no gore or horror though.
(wrote this a while ago. based on a real life event for me.)
“It is difficult for me to understand.”
Malleus’s voice draws me out of the fog of my own mind and back to reality like the tether of a wayward life preserver. I wonder what he would think of this comparison.
“What is?” I ask, hoping not to make it too obvious that I wasn’t listening. I was, at first. I just have a lot going on right now. I always do.
He slow-blinks, catlike, lizardlike, dragonlike, his spring green eyes focusing on me a bit more purposefully. “That humans treat birthdays as occasions to celebrate,” he says, possibly repeating himself, to my sheepish guilt. “They have such short lifespans, yet they are so eager to lose another year each time.”
“Oh.” I clutch my stomach. I feel sick, and not because I ate too much cake. “Well, it’s not that simple. I-”
Deuce and Ace and Grim have started a conga line. I instinctively wince away from the noise, even though they're my best friends and I love seeing them happy, because the whole room is too loud and too close and I really think I might hurl.
“I, um, I’ll be right back.”
I set my paper plate aside and dart - slink - scrabble away from the chaos. I feel an episode coming on, or maybe it’s been playing for a while now, like a show I put on Netflix and left forgotten on autoplay until it asks me if I’m still watching. The brambles of unwanted memories tug at me with sharp fingers.
I wind up in the Diasomnia courtyard. It has benches under trees. It has a fountain. It has fog because of course it does, it’s Diasomnia. I sit on a bench and shut my eyes and grit my teeth against the acid burning through my stomach.
[ ping ]
My phone wants my attention. Normally it’s superglued/surgically attached to my hand, and muscle memory politely shoves me toward checking it, but I can’t look.
[ ping ] [ ping ] [ ping ]
The messages flicker before my eyes as clearly as when I first read them.
[ ping ]
It was weird, I had thought at the time. A couple vague posts from my friends popped up in my feed at random. Eventually I messaged one to find out what happened.
[ ping ] [ ping ]
Overdose, they’d said. Insulin and antidepressants. A month’s supply of hoarded medications. Suddenly the posts made awful sense. Claws gripped my heart and made it hard to breathe.
[ ping ]
“I had almost forgotten that humans can tell lies.”
Malleus’s voice startles me out of my woeful thoughts. “What?” I ask stupidly.
He gazes down at me. His features are shrouded by the dark, but I can see the downward turn of his mouth and feel the intensity of his eyes. He’s concerned. “You said you would be right back.”
I turn away from him and look at the ground. “Sorry,” I mumble. “You wanna sit down?”
He does. His presence warms the air next to me. I want to isolate myself - it’s so easy - but I make myself scoot closer to him so he can at least hold my hand.
“A lot of people hate birthdays,” I blurt out abruptly. “Like, they gripe about getting older, usually.”
My hand curls up tighter. He’s so different from me, all soothing heat and composure and grace to my sharp edges and cold, jittery nightmare of an existence.
“Is that what troubles you?” he asks quietly. His voice helps.
“No.” My voice wobbles, about to fall off the balance beam. This was not how I pictured having this conversation. In fairness, I had hoped it was a conversation I would never need to have. “A couple years ago. Something bad happened.”
Malleus is yet unfamiliar with many a human habit and social convention, but it seems he has learned at least one from me. He lifts one arm and rests it along the back of my shoulders.
My voice goes strangely cold and steady.
“My friend died. Killed herself. She overdosed and had seizures for ten days until they took her off life support the day before my birthday.”
The words linger like the bitter fog of my breath in the air. He says nothing.
“I hate my birthday now. I’m mad at her for doing this to me. I hate myself for being mad at her. I hate it because it could’ve been-”
My voice hitches as if caught on a sharp edge. If I open my mouth to try again, I know I’ll choke on tears.
“It could have been you?”
He poses the question as delicately as the touch of a fallen petal.
I’ve already cried over this so much that I don’t think I can ever cry again. But I’m finding it hard to breathe, the air escaping from my chest in erratic puffs of visible vapor.
[ ping ]
I hated the group chat they’d made. A dozen semi-strangers propping each other up with worthless promises that she would be okay, even though I knew the moment I heard the news that she wouldn’t make it. So many people lamenting how sad it was. So many “my door is always open”s.
“I think I understand.”
Malleus speaks close to my ear. I fall into his embrace as though collapsing under the weight of my words.
“It is not about celebrating the loss of a year,” he says in a soft murmur, “but the completion of one that might have been lost.” He strokes my hair. “As if conquering a great foe in battle.”
“Mhm. Slaying the dragon.”
It’s out of my mouth before I can stop it. But he laughs.
“I should hope not. It is my birthday, after all.”
“Yeah. Sorry I’m making you miss it.”
“All is well.” He leans his head against mine. “I do not believe I am missing anything.”
I want to accept this as a wistful sentiment, but I make myself stand up. “Well, contrary to popular belief,” I say, taking both of his hands in my own, “birthday parties aren’t exclusively for you.” I give a light tug to pull him to his feet, and he rises with the poise of a dancer. “They’re also for your friends to eat cake and play games and be super obnoxious. So you shouldn’t leave them hanging.”
I never thought I would find the lights and crowd noise of a party welcoming, but I welcome it. Malleus keeps a hand around my shoulders - protective, comforting - until he’s certain I’ve recovered enough to stand on my own. I’m not quite up to joining the conga line, but I help myself to another slice of cake and some bonbons and a cup of punch.
“Feeling better?”
Lilia winks into existence next to me.
I’ve given up asking how he did that or when he showed up or anything else to the tune of fact-checking him against reality. “I forget you two can hear a pin drop in the next zip code,” I say as flatly as I can.
He gives a light laugh and pats my head. “I only want to make sure you are well,” he says.
“I think given my track record it’s safe to say that I’ve never been very well, Lilia.”
A strange expression settles over his eyes. Something knowing. Something…aged.
“It is never easy to face a monster in battle,” he says. “No matter your experience, your skills, your preparation- every confrontation is unique.”
I hold eye contact with him and sense I am speaking to a very different man.
“Do you know the meaning of bravery, young one?”
“Something something not being afraid of things?” I offer.
His smile politely declines my suggestion. “Silver made that mistake as well.” Lilia reaches over and taps me on the nose. “To be fearless is not to be brave, child of man. True courage lies in having fear and choosing to fight regardless of it.”
My gaze sweeps back to Malleus. Sebek is losing any composure he might have had due to a smear of frosting marring his lord’s white blazer. I look down at the half-finished cake in front of me. “It never stops, does it?” My voice comes out in a half-whispered croak. “I’ll never win.”
Lilia ruffles my hair. “You won’t know unless you try, young one.” His smirk never wavers, but it looks more genuine. “Besides,” he says with a knowing glance at my band of idiots - Grim balancing precariously atop Ace’s shoulders and trying to place a birthday tiara around Malleus’s horns - “it is hardly as though you are fighting alone.”
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