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funficwriter · 5 months

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A Wolf and a Snake (Wriothesley x Reader)

Chapter 5: The Tides Are Changing

A/N: Enjoy!

Taglist: @yue-caelum, @reyy-chanx, @mis-disaster, @ladyarchiviste, @keigo-hawks-takami-simp

Warnings: Fighting lol, physical violence, pain, almost-heart failure (?), violent thoughts, yandere shit, yapping, vaginal fingering, a liiil bit of edging

"You've got to be careful.".

Even when scolding you, Agatha always laced her voice with sweetness. You could count the number of times she was genuinely mad at you on one hand. If she was this evening, you couldn't blame her given the circumstances.

"About?".

She sighed.

"You know damn well about what, Y/N. I'm fully on your side, and I think Lord Wriothesley will be great to you. But I worry... It's normal that you are happy beyond reason with him. I fear that you lose yourself in your happiness and forget that you're not supposed to be there, at that time, with him of all people.".

Deep down, you knew she was right. The circumstance that she worried about was your approaching wedding day, which catalyzed more and more restrictions for you. Your parents let you leave the house less and were more strict regarding your behavior, way of expression, speech... Everything.

With that, sneaking out to see Wriothesley was becoming a more challenging endeavor. Once a matter of meeting at night and being back before dawn, you now had to coordinate by the hours, pray to Focalors that no secret last-minute changes required your presence, be careful of the place and who was around (Fontainians, particularly of the higher classes, were Teyvat-renown gossipers), not laughing too loudly, and on top of it all, staying vigilant, which you were becoming notoriously bad at.

You were once a little paranoid, as you should have always been. Now, both you and Wriothesley forgot your meetings' lack of approval and the danger that may ensue. More than once, you risked being late in returning home; Had Agatha not sent a hurried message reminding you that more than one servant asked about you, you would have certainly been late enough for your Father to look for you.

Though the air of your conversation was tense, you knew you had to thank her for saving your skin.

"Y/N...".

She stopped herself from speaking once she said your name. She wouldn't have called out to you if not to say something. Something was troubling her.

"Yes? What is it, Agatha?".

After an awkward minute, she looked up to you. Her eye to yours, and her brow furrowed in disapproval. The same look your mother gave you when you played the piano badly.

"Y/N, I've always cherished you, but I have to say it: This is getting out of hand. Your adventures are becoming more ridiculous by the day. I had to pull out my rosaries to pray that you would come home before Master! I haven't done so in 20 years! I never had to keep this insane vigil over you when you started seeing Lord Wriothesley, because you knew. You always kept track of yourself, and I was fine with it. But developing eye bags? Losing track of time? Corrupting novice police forces? Making me shiver and cry for your safety?!".

All your life, Agatha took your side even if it meant putting her career as a governess at risk. There was no punishment she didn't try to protect you from, even though your parents worried that she would be lenient and ruin you. She even gave Wriothesley her approval, the only adult approval you cared about. Why was her tune changing like this?

"Agatha, I said I'm sorry and you accepted it! You know how horrible my life grows by the day, all for this blond swine I'm supposed to marry! I understand your concerns, but as of now, I haven't seen him in a month, and-".

"Y/N!!!".

She got up brusquely, an uncharacteristic gesture along with yelling your name. A pit of malaise started to grow in your stomach, and you were worried that it would spread to your esophagus and make you vomit. You didn't like where this was going.

"I would be patient if your little plan would yield its output sooner. But this is taking way too long! I've known girls who ran away with their lovers faster than you have! How much more is this going to take!? How many more near heart attacks will you give me?".

"Agatha, you told me to not jump to the drastic measure! We're still trying to do things the legitimate way-".

"Legitimate way? You're already spending your allowance the same way your Father did whenever he wanted something done faster than what the commoner got! Where's the legitimacy in that? Why do you still act for it?".

She went there. The pain was spreading to the pit of your belly, and its top.

"You want to talk about legitimate matters? How about that dumbass you call your half-brother who got kicked out of this manor like a dog? How about how he lost an entirely pleasurable and easy life because he doesn't know that an illegitimate sibling should STAY hidden?".

She gasped, burst into tears and you hugged her while apologizing for getting even lower, and you both cooled off... That's what would have happened in an ideal world where the both of you weren't so stressed. Only the first action took place.

She looked down at the floor, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered whether you had gone too far, digging into such sensitive history. But that ended when she looked up, even angrier and with teary eyes.

Agatha, the sweet-voiced. Agatha, the quiet and low of tone, a constant in your life. You did not think she could yell at you like this.

"My brother? MY BROTHER?!? You can drop the nice, exceptional noble act now! You screw commoners over with rules and break them with no regard for how the rest of us will be affected! At least my brother is still a man of integrity, and he'd sooner shoot himself than take your stupid bribes! Integrity! Can your money buy you that? Can your man-dog fling buy you that, or is he too busy with shiny bracelets and fake promises?!?".

"I never tried to bribe him, Agatha! I'm courteous enough to stay away from him! What do you mean, commoners getting fucked by rules?! Don't you think that I'm getting screwed out of a life I want? And that's why I need to do this behind everyone's backs?! And unlike him, Wriothesley does not make fake promises!".

She got up and close to your face, her tears even more visible. You never feared an adult's wrathful gaze upon you as much as hers'.

"You don't get it, do you, Y/N?".

"What?".

She stopped moving, and perhaps even breathing. Then she giggled and laughed raucously as if she were an evil witch from your childhood books. Or that one tutor who laughed at you when you gave a wrong answer.

She turned to the opposite side, before turning her face so you could see it sideways. She never gave this shit-eating grin.

"At least my brother is happily bound in holy matrimony. If Wriothesley was that intent on marrying you, he would have snatched you between his teeth by now. The length of this little plan makes it clear: He's just having a bit of fun with you.".

A bit of fun.

A day where he'll grow bored, ditch you to your grey life again, and forget about you. A day where he'll marry another woman. Not you.

In the red you saw, you slapped a vase to the ground, perhaps hallucinating Agatha's face.

"AGATHA!".

In hindsight, she was making sense. Wriothesley talked day and night, paper and in person, about how much he wanted to marry you. It was clear that legitimate methods, such as lawfully convicting your fiancé, were failing. Or taking way too long. In your world, these two were one and the same. Your marriage date was not getting postponed, even if you scarred your face the day of.

Agatha was being cruel, but she wasn't wrong. He knew and kept operating like this. You wished Wriothesley was here so you could claw his eyes out. So you could grab your sword and impale the heart he swore was yours. So you could stitch his mouth closed and he'd never tell lies again. So you could embarrass him the same way she just did.

You lunged at her, but she moved out of the way. You landed on the floor, messing up your (favorite color) dress. You never thought your fate could grow crueler. Even the color to your gray was turning out to be a lie.

All you could turn to your back and sob your heart out. Maybe if you avoided Agatha's pitiful gaze... Maybe if Celestia saw your blotched face and heard your cries, she would regret what she wrote as your fate.

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

You tried to distract yourself for the rest of the night. You occupied the piano only to play sad pieces and be praised for your "empathy with the composer". You snuck a piece of cake and took a bite before feeling sick again. You walked around the manor and only got a bunch of servants asking if you were alright, and your brother saying: "Don't worry. Whatever moroseness you feel will disappear when you walk down the aisle.". It took everything in you not to burst into tears on the spot.

You couldn't leave this prison you called a manor. The only place you didn't try was the low garden, even if it held the fateful moments of his appearance. Your chase. Your star-gazing. Your first kiss.

At least it wasn't enclosed in walls. It was worth a shot.

It was a night with few stars. You never liked those, because the night you met him was full of them. It was one of the loveliest sights you saw.

It seemed to you like starless nights were a time when most tragedies happened, like tonight and the night Agatha's half-brother- No, brother was exiled. Seriously, you had to correct that "half", even if it was technically true and it hurt her at the moment. You remembered when she started the story with: "My contract has an exclusive clause that I must not tell you this, so please, keep it between us.". And you did. You returned the favor and told her of damning actions that may as well be written in an exclusive clause citing harsh punishment, many of those actions being recent.

You wanted to cry again. Perhaps you still needed to calm down, you thought. Being here didn't help, so it was time to try something new. You left to the kitchen to make lavender and chamomile tea, a brew you often drank before exams or social events. You let the tea leaves steep for a little longer than you should have, hoping that the transitory act of making tea would take up a few more minutes of your miserable day. Once it was ready, you carried the mug to your room, steps as light as they have seen since you learned how to walk.

You set the mug on your desk before crashing down on your bed and taking a deep sigh. By the Archons, what a tiring mess your life was. You had a theory that every noble girl and woman could sleep for the rest of her life. It was tiring: From the acting to the constant monitoring of your actions, you felt like human beings weren't made for this. You were glad your bedroom was away and thus had less sound emerging from it. You were taught to never crash down on your bed as you did, but it was one of those little pleasures. Just like illegitimate snacks and staying up and baltering and twirling around for the pure enjoyment of seeing your skirt float up in circles ('Y/N! Be graceful, your legs are showing!!'), they were the only thing you could be grateful for now. Your governess just joined your family and society's side on how to live, and the man you loved was potentially toying with you all along.

You didn't know which mental picture bothered you more: Wriothesley laughing at your naivete, or Wriothesley courting another woman after he was done with you. It may be the second- no it was definitely the second. The first was horrible, but the second was a far bigger betrayal to you. Agatha would be right: His heart was never yours, his promises were always empty and you may have been blind at parties while he was ogling other women. If it would be because of their faces, should you slash them with a knife or curved dagger? If it were their bodies, should you cut off the parts he was ogling or the ones they liked the most about themselves? Which other women should you go after Wriothesley, if all of this is true? Did he actually prefer common women? Or perhaps... Older, more refined or mature women like your mother?

How could he possibly look at other women when he gave you your first bout of joy, the same way you expected him to give you your first orgasm? If he never wanted you, why would he start all of this?!

But was he looking at other women? During events, you could have sworn that that wasn't true. But what was true anymore? Why wasn't he telling you what was going on? What was going on, why were you the one left in the dark by both him and everyone else about your own future?

Your pained groan ended in its middle when you heard a bark. There was no dog in this room. You looked up to see Frosty on your desk. Unlike the usual, his tail wasn't wagging and he pined once you noticed him. A sad, pitiful pine that expressed you in your current entirety.

"What the- What are you here for? I didn't send Wriothesley anything, do you have something? Wait-".

The window was wide open. Frosty had something in his 'backpack' (did it have the same name for messenger dogs?), but the paper in question was much smaller than the usual letters he sent. The ink looked stronger, too. You opened it. The format of the contents was also starling:

'Y/N

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FOLLOW THE PUP. I CAN'T STAND THIS.

I LOVE YOU, SO PLEASE COMPLY,

WRIOTHESLEY'

"Where to, then?".

Frosty jumped out of the window onto the ledge. Did he want you to climb? Would this be worth it??

You crawled out of the window frame, thankful that your manor's roofs were easy to climb. Most of them had stairs, and there were odd bricks you could stand on for a bit. You hoped they wouldn't renovate it anytime soon.

Frosty led you up to the highest roof, also a good spot for stargazing. You had to give it to him, being so familiar with the house. You sat down but did not wait for longer than a minute. A black gloved hand grasped the ledge, and up came Wriothesley, panting and sweating as if he had a nightmare. His expression only relaxed when it landed on you.

"My Y/N...".

You stood up and waited for him to be next to you, so he wouldn't fall off. Before he could hug you, your hand finally gathered enough force to do what you thought of for hours.

SLAP!

He fell on the bricks, holding his cheek. He looked up to you in the same pitiful, sad way Frosty looked at you. The pup pined at the sight, akin to a child seeing its parents fight.

"Y/N, please...".

You wanted to scream at him. Ask for the bitch's name, whether he liked her tits or face more, what did she have that you didn't, and how dare he prove your family's stance correct. You wanted to ask him whether he even wanted to marry you. If he didn't want to anymore, to just back off and let you go on your rampage and soil your dress with blood. Take his vision and freeze him with his own powers. Whether he saw you as a young, naive maiden and whether that made you a more fun conquest.

Instead, you turned your back to him. You sobbed as quietly as you could. And that was more scalding to Wriothesley than any of the aforementioned violent actions.

"Y/N, I need...".

He stopped and let out a guttural cry you'd only hear in emergency wards. He was hunched over again. You looked back. Was he acting, just like Archandelle?

"I need you to talk to me, my love..."

"Why are you acting as if you were in pain? I'm the one who's being fucked over.".

"Y/N, what's happening? Who hurt... hurt you? Who d-do you need me to kill?".

He had this pained look all along your interaction. He couldn't have known that you were angry at him; You didn't write to him about it, nor have you seen each other.

"What do you mean?".

"Someone hurt you. Badly. Tell me who it is. Talk to me. Give me a name to end.".

You crouched down and noticed that he was clutching the right side of his chest. His fingers were red and something was lodged in the glove. You snatched his hand to take it out. It was a pill you knew too well. You had more than a few acquaintances - all older men - who took it as the last pillar to stay alive.

Heart medicine.

"Did you get addicted to medicine while I wasn't looking?! Why are your fingers red? WHY AREN'T YOU TELLING ME ANYTHING?!? What's happening to you??".

"You... still don't know? About the bracelet?".

You looked at the wolf crest bracelet he gave you. His marking, right in front of your parents. You reached the point where you always wore it on your person, even if not on your wrist.

"What about that?".

"Flip the wolf over...".

You flipped the emblem to find the upside-down wolf, its eye glaring carmine red. Wriothesley turned the emblem on his heart, the usual blue glow replaced by that same hue.

"What the- What is that?"

"Did you forget? Maybe that's why you're in this state. Among...".

He stopped to take deep breaths as if trying to alleviate his pain. His hair was dishevelled and he was soaked in sweat. His eyes were quivered down on his matted head Even his clothes looked rumpled, and his tie done in haste. Wriothesley was always the one who sent other people to the state he was currently in. Now, something was horribly wrong.

Despite your wishes, your own heart hurt looking at him. As he breathed, you wiped the sweat off his forehead. He stopped you at the third swipe, taking your hand and kissing it.

"Among my first vows to you, I said that your pain would be mine, and my heart was yours.".

Among your false and true memories, the ones he mentioned sprung out. Your emblems' glow reduced by a little, although this sickly shade of red was on his face, both within his flesh and the glow.

"I don't understand, Wriothesley.".

"The bracelet. It transmits your pain to my heart. Sometimes I feel it a bit, but I assume that it's because of... Of your current life. And I say: 'It's okay. I'll bust her out of there soon.'. But tonight... It's like you exploded. Something way more horrible than usual has happened. Someone, maybe. I want you to talk to me. I told you before, as husband and wife, we need to communicate habitually.".

"Wriothesley, why your heart? What if you got a heart attack? What if you died? What about me and you?!".

You couldn't help the fresh wave of tears. Gosh, you hated how sentimental you were. You wanted to hate him, but how could you when he bowed to you, his own heart failing because of your state and still making it a priority to hold and kiss your hand? He linked his heart to you, for Focalors' sake! By official guidelines, this is harmful magic, 'not to be used under any circumstance' for a good reason.

"I told you, my heart is yours. Ever since my eyes landed on you, it always has been, just as your pain is mine. And if someday, you're so upset to the point where I risk death, then I would have deserved it for being a bad spouse.".

You threw your arms around him, your eyes hurting from how much you've cried. He did not hesitate in holding you back. If you concentrated, you could feel his heartbeat, regularizing but still way too fast. You didn't want to imagine what a mess it was before he came here.

"Y/N, do you want to regulate my heartbeat? That is your choice.".

"You fucking idiot! Of c-course I do!".

"Talk to me.".

You let go of him, trying to settle down so you could talk. His ears perked up the slightest bit to listen to you, the first time in this interaction. This was good.

"...D-do you love me? Enough to want to marry me?".

Up to the sky the same ears shot, along with his eyebrows.

"What? I do, more than anything I've ever desired! Did someone make you doubt that? Who is it?".

"Wrio... Why is this taking so long? I'm getting married soon. This will be much harder once that happens. I don't want it to happen. Oh, Wriothesley, today sucked, I even got in a fight with Agatha...".

Once you mentioned her name, a barrage of your last month and beyond started. You didn't stop after recounting the fight; There were the times your parents scolded you for having a curl out of place when Archandelle was coming over. Your brother trying to console you with your 'marriage'. Staying at home for days at a time. Memorizing every nook and cranny of the manor. Having to live like a thief, from hiding your love to your late-night tea. How you feared returning to the same state you were in, years right until you met him.

One good thing happened with this. The more you talked, the dimmer the red glow became.

"... Wriothesley, I feel like any woman with some noble connection is cursed. My mother married a man she didn't love. Agatha's husband abused her and she had to pay a lot to get divorced. My grandmother even loathed her husband, but everyone married her off because he'd 'discipline' her. And I have to follow this tradition of unhappy women, but I don't want to. It feels like I have no one to talk to. I feel alone. I hate it...".

You stopped and took a breath, wondering where all this revelation was coming from. You never opened up to Agatha with this much detail and intensity. This must have been waiting for years to get out. Why did your mind pick him, of all people? Was it because you just so happened to be messy at that moment?

Wriothesley held your hand again. His eyes did not fully dry from a few tears that threatened to come out at some point in your talk.

"Wrio, are you okay? Do you want a cup of tea? Did I talk too much? I'm sorry...".

"No, don't apologize Y/N. For once, my heart feels better because you let it out. Archons, I'm so proud of you for talking...".

"No one else would have been.".

"Well, everyone else is a cruel idiot. Everyone else told you to bottle it up, but you still went against them and told me everything.".

"If I am honest with you, can you be honest with me about a few things?".

For the first time in what felt like forever, he smiled. A small, sincere smile that took even more weight off of you. To you, there was nothing more beautiful, because nothing invoked as many happy memories as that curl of the lips. It was like that darned chocolate cupcake that you both reached your coming-of-age social. Part of you teasingly reminded you of your favorite new pastry, which hasn't changed since your first meeting.

"Without a doubt.".

"Is there another woman you love?".

The smile broke and he looked offended.

"So long as a woman is not named 'Y/N Balthazar', and becomes 'Y/N, Duchess of Meropide', then I couldn't care less about her.".

You tried to repress the blush; It was still too early for this.

"Is there nothing in me that you don't like? Anything that would repel you away from me?".

"In the Fontainian foster system, your father, Archandelle, Teyvat and the world, yes. Lots. In you, no.".

Your legs felt sore, so you lied down. He followed suit, by your side.

"Speaking of Archandelle, is anything happening to him or am I doomed?".

"You will not be doomed under my watch. I'm going to answer this question but first...".

He got up, steadier on his legs than he was. He cocked his head to the side, ushering you to follow him. Once you guys reached the topmost ledge of the roof (your favorite, because it loomed over the City), he handed you an item so familiar and loved, yet unseen for a long time: A wind glider.

"I was thinking of something fun to do, and your manor has some great altitude...".

"I haven't used one in ages! I forgot!".

He chuckled: "You've used it before, that's enough to know. Just trust the skies, my dear.".

He grabbed his own and jumped off, but did not fall. The wings deployed immediately, and his limbs relaxed once they spread out. His first landing spot was easy to reach. It was a lower part of your roof.

"Here! This should be a good start. Now jump!".

Sounding more panicked than you liked to admit (and risking your time), you yelled: "You didn't explain anything!! How did you get the wings? How do you- Why are you laughing at me?!".

He didn't want to make you feel insecure, but he couldn't help his laughter. You were like an adorable, helpless child, relying on him to give you the answers.

"You just have to jump, Y/N! Why would I try to get you to break an arm, huh? Just trust me on this!".

You worked hard to recount the few times you got to use a wind glider. What a horrible time becoming a pre-teen was; You were barred of so many wonderful activities, all for the sake of spending your next years securing a husband. What joy did that bring you? No, the real happiness was when you kicked your feet off the high point, spread your arms out, and floated. You were above the manor's walls, the parlor, the court's and Fontaine. It was like being a part of Teyvat itself. It was freeing.

After these long, monochrome years, your body flew again. Your heart with Wriothesley and your form into the sky, softly landing in front of him, on your feet. He smiled widely, his full and societally hated canines on show. Here was a man at least twice your size, smiling like a school boy before he knew of misery.

"You're great at this! Once we marry, you should consider competing in gliding. You'd definitely win a few medals!".

"Hey, you're the one who encouraged me. Let's pick a lower spot.".

And there was another, and another until you were far from your house's roof. It's okay, you were coming back anyway. You always came back, but he was your only betting chip for the opposite. You either had to put your hope on him, or have none at all.

During your last flight, you deactivated your wings and let yourself fall. You knew you could, you knew you wouldn't die. He caught you in his arms, carrying you by the waist.

"Hey... What was that for, my love?".

"I just wanted to skip to this part.".

Tired, you both lay down, with him encircling his arms around you. He put his head on top of your chest. His heartbeat grew slow and regular - He was safe. You were safe. While it was true that safety was but a wisp in your world, you had to cling to it while it lasted. It was the only way you'd pave a life where you could scratch his fluffy ears as slowly as you pleased, grateful to your younger self who took this risk and leave everything she knew behind.

"I didn't tell you about tomorrow yet.".

The wind gliding made you forget! You looked down at his icy eyes and heard him out.

"They're squeezing a confession out of him. I know, because I made sure 'his' cops wouldn't be at the investigation. From there on, it's free ground for him to go to prison.".

"He still has to be tried, though, no?".

"Yes, but it will only be a question of a lifetime sentence with fellow prisoners or in isolation. I feel like I don't have to ask if you're ready for the Pandora's box it will open...".

He tightened his hold. You knew what box he meant: Noble crime is pretty interconnected. It's common for nobles to see out their own class when committing something that a commoner could not get away with. Archandelle's trial and arrest would also mean that many others; lives would be ruined... Including your own father. It was amazing how they knew each other for such little time, and yet they already had several illegal connections.

"You're right. You don't have to ask. I'm looking forward to that trial.".

"So am I, Y/N. I'll be sure to kiss you in front of them after they're convicted. Maybe slobber up and show them too.".

"Eeeeewwww!".

The idea of a (publicly) slobbering Wriothesley was so uncharacteristic, but so funny.

"It's so I can spit on them! Do you think I should add more tongue for the extra scandal?".

"Honestly, just holding hands would be enough for that!".

"But I'm going all the way!".

"You're such a-!!".

What he was, you couldn't think of. Even your laughter quieted at the sight right under your chin: A fondly smiling Wriothesley, with growingly beet-red cheeks and twitching ears. You often theorized that despite him physically being a grown man with an impressive size, there was a boy who just sought out his own happiness, including that with the ones he loves. Just like you.

He leaned his head to give your jaw a long kiss, before whispering in your ear: "You are worth losing everything I've ever desired.".

"Eh?".

"Though I've remained faithful to my goal, I feel like I haven't been taking the right approach.".

He cozied up against your chest again.

"What do you mean, Wrio?".

"Well... When I first declared that I wanted you, I tried asking your father. Do you remember that?".

"How could I forget?".

"And while it's true that I was digging up dirt on Archandelle, I still tried to go the tried-and-true way. Discover some horrible crime, snitch to the Court, sue and let them punish him...".

"Yes?".

You weren't sure where he was going. You looked down to see him gazing at the moon.

"Maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe I should have just showed up to this door and gutted his fetid body. Maybe I should have killed him during the parties.".

Deep down, you knew you wouldn't have an issue with that. In fact, you might even cheer. Why didn't he do it from the start, then? You felt like you had the partial answer in your hand, scratching it just the way he enjoyed.

He chuckled: "You really like my ears, huh?".

"Speaking of which... Is that partly why you didn't start with the violent approach? Because people are already shitty enough to lycanthropes?".

"Smart. I still remember my shock when you told me you liked lycanthrope authors. It was the first time anyone considered my kin to be something good. But there's another reason. A bigger one.".

You couldn't help but jolt up. Bigger than life-ailing discrimination? As a hybrid and noble man, Wriothesley was already a one-in-a-million case, so it would make sense that he'd want to avoid keeping stereotypes.

He broke his gaze from the moon into yours. Maybe that was part of the reason why he loved you so obsessively: Because there was no getting used to your beauty, your voice, your mannerisms, your smarts and your tenderness towards him. He never liked surprises; Routine was a good way to regulate himself and stay on the down low. Surprise was never a pleasant thing for him from his foster parents to the Beret society. But you? You always caught him off guard in some way, possibly without meaning it. You held gleeful surprise and pleasure and the joys he was constantly told about in the orphanage, but never found until he found you.

The shining look of your (eye color) orbs made him take the vow: He was never going to be passive when it came to you again.

"When I first met you, I had no way of knowing whether you would be okay with that drastic measure. Whether... You were just like me. Whether you, too, spent your life seeking out empty promises. Had you been like most people, jumping to violence would be a sure-fire way for you to hate me. Oh, how could I live being hated by you, Y/N? After everything I've been through, it would definitely break me.".

"Wriothesley...".

"The night we met, I played it passively in hopes of not scaring you away, and keeping my own status. Yes, I still get judged, but it's nowhere near as bad as what I've had before. I thought I would be better off not risking what I gained, and acting normal to you. But when I got to know you more, and when I'm risking losing you... I realized what a mistake that was. I don't like what Agatha did tonight, but she was right on one account. I should have snatched you to myself from our first roof exchange.".

He breathed, as if he's been itching to say this all along. When you first laid down, your head was above his. Now he loomed over you again, as well as his body, in a position that you could associate with a soft bed and your first night post-marriage.

Once he dipped down and kissed you, it was your turn to have an irregular heartbeat.

The world felt most beautiful when you two closed the distance between your bodies. They were like two pieces of a puzzle: Molded for each other. His hand slowly ran beyond your knee and on your thigh, the other behind your back. Your arms had to stretch to go around his wide shoulders, but it also made you feel safe; He would protect you from anything, including the imposed fate you feared.

That same hand grew higher, and higher, but stopped right before your inner thigh. He broke apart to ask: "May I? I'll stop whenever you want to.".

You raised your leg, as if trying to get him closer: "Yes...".

Was it just him, or was that more of a moan than a word? Could you even speak in this state? And why did you have to rile him up like this?

He kissed you again, his hand squeezing at the soft meat, then running over your hip. It's not that you were as sheltered as your parents would have liked, but this was your first time being touched like this. It was as if he was awakening nerves you didn't know existed. You didn't feel this sensitive when masturbating.

Getting tired of your thigh, he laced his fingers between your hip and your panties, before sliding them off. Even from there, he picked up on where most of the heat was coming from, and it wasn't your dress' fancy fabric.

He raised himself to lift your skirt up. There was your slit, coated in its own lubrication, and your legs shaking ever so slightly. He hadn't even started and you were already mewling and getting excited, your body already anticipating the orgasm. He couldn't help cooing.

"I can't wait until I make you cum."

You whined, tired of him making you wait, then wrapped an arm around him.

He ran his fingers up and down your vulva, coating them with your juices, before circling around your clit. The sensation made you squeal out. You heard it had thousands of nerves, but what was that?! It was not a cold night, but your entire body was shaking as if you were freezing.

"Ssshhh... We have to be discreet. Do you like this, sweetheart?".

"More... More, please!".

He was not expecting this vocality, but he wasn't complaining. He dipped down to leave little kisses on your collarbone and neck, while he played with your sensitive clitoris. He occasionally gave it a break, running his fingers in circles around your womanhood, flaring up whatever nerves he could find, before rubbing your nub again.

The lovely thing about neck kisses was that you could not avoid his husky-voiced whispers: "I bet he won't make you feel the way I do right now.".

His fingers slipped down to your hole, still circling around it before he would slip in.

"This lovely body and its tremors aren't his, are they?".

"N-no! I swear, they're not!".

He stopped touching you. Don't get him wrong, he loved you, but you were too cute writhing for him to not take advantage of it. He could not wait until he had you all to himself. He might even make you cry from all the pleasure he'd give you. Until then, he had to relish the limited moment he had.

"Sorry, my love, but you haven't convinced me.".

Once frigid and closed, your legs opened up even more: "Wriothesley, please!! You said it, he'll die before he even gets to see me naked, let alone touch me!".

"Oh? So you're trusting that I will take you?".

As he asked, he leaned in close, only a few inches away from kissing you. His hand was creeping back up where you wanted it.

"Yes... I'm yours, I've always been...".

His digits entered your hole. He didn't even have to look for the spot; a few rubs and you had to stop yourself from squealing. You could not stay quiet, not when you've never felt this, not when he was playing with every pleasurable nerve in your body. You were already clenching erratically around him. The more you did, the closer you were...

"Wait! Wait, I-!"

He kissed your neck again: "Let it out, baby.".

You couldn't help it. You screamed. At least you were far from your house, and it was a good type of scream. The type you felt he'd give you every night.

He helped you feel and ride out your entire orgasm, drawing out every bit of pleasure he could, while all you could do was moan out. Once you calmed down, he lowered his eyes to yours again.

"Are you alright?".

"That was amazing...".

"With the way you screamed, I sure hoped so.".

"Shut up.".

He laughed a bit, before kissing you again. This time, it was slower, softer. Tonight was eventful for both of you, after all. At some point, you two broke the kiss but remained in the same position. It was easy to hear his whisper when your foreheads were so close.

"If tomorrow doesn't work, I'll kill him before the ceremony.".

#a wolf and a snake #yandere wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x reader #yandere reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere fontaine x reader #genshin impact smut

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ronearoundblindly · 2 years

Text

Threadbare (1)

Steve Rogers x Fashion Designer!Reader

Part One: Yield Strength (see series)

Summary: Steve gets to meet his favorite designer, and you get a surprise visitor at work.

Warnings: none. Maybe a bit of creepy behavior but not from Steve. Yes, I did just want to use the leather jacket gif for shiggles. What's it to ya? WC 3355

Steve Rogers hates stuffy functions. He hates the brown-nosing. He hates trying to convince people who have everything to give scraps to people with nothing. He hates watching the excess and indulgence, even when he knows it ends up giving something to those in need. He hates it. He hates the whole lot of these stupid, asinine—

Steve takes a breath and smooths his hand down the buttery fabric of a double-breasted jacket hanging next to his intended garment.

Ok, fine, he hates the functions, but he actually enjoys the dressing up part.

He didn’t used to. No. The only outfit outside of his Cap suit that ever truly fit him—before or after the serum—was his SSR uniform, and coming from a time of nothing, Steve accepted that as a huge win.

And then he woke up in this world of excess and—what do they call it? Fast-fashion?— realized that what should be easier to acquire was much, much harder to find: room to breathe.

Steve may roll his eyes at Tony’s custom everything, but he admits internally that at least Stark’s comfortable all the time. Steve would settle for being comfortable in his own skin.

This helps though, this gloriously draped, stiff in a supportive way, heavy in a grounding way, and shapely button down. He doesn’t need a whole suit tonight; it’s not that kind of event. In fact, Steve wasn’t specifically invited. He heard Tony talking about the new collection by the designer of this shirt—which happens to be the label for 90% of Steve’s dressier clothing at this point—and Steve outright volunteered himself to go with Tony.

See, Steve Rogers is now a big, broad guy, and it’s been an adjustment, as well as plain difficult, to gather a wardrobe that isn’t custom tailored due to his sheer size and proportions. The team jokes about his tight shirts, but if he buys things large enough for his shoulders, his waist swims in fabric. Steve had to live off of stretchy clothing for the first three years he was out of the ice. He wasn’t out of his Cap suit long enough for the investment to be worthwhile. Then it took another several years before he discovered Tovarich.

The man must know what it’s like to be big and broad, that’s for sure. Steve may not be much for high fashion, but he’s genuinely gotten so much comfort and enjoyment out of Mr. Tovarich’s work that Steve wants to thank him personally. For once, being Captain America is a good card to play to ensure he gets to meet the designer.

Steve adjusts his rolled sleeves a bit in the mirror, smirking at himself for being a bit of a dandy concerning his look right now, but he’s determined to have a good time out with Tony. It’s just a fashion show. How difficult can it be?

Really damn difficult, that’s what it is.

Steve isn’t prepared for the bizarre press interest in who is there instead of what is being shown. He’s used to cameras flashing at him—especially because the bright and loud pops of flashes were much worse in the ‘40s—but Steve’s in awe of the models’ complete indifference while walking a straight line with a straight face in some of the simplest, most magnificent men’s wear he’s ever seen.

If all he had to do was tick boxes on a list to order things, Steve would be in big trouble with a full bingo card and an empty wallet. It’d be worth it though.

Tony tries to talk to him every so often, but the music is outrageously loud. Steve can’t hear a thing.

He gets tapped on the shoulder by some women sitting behind him, and they try to say some more things he can’t hear.

Everyone rises to clap, and Steve joins in, overwhelmed by the fast pace of all the outfits on repeat, when the man on his other side accidentally elbows Steve and drops his program. The paper flutters to land in front of Tony’s feet, so Steve picks it up, hands it back, and the man makes an appreciative face before gesturing vaguely at the runway and mouthing his admiration. Steve nods and smiles, happy he’s not the only one fanboying over clothes.

The lights change in the venue. The photography and clapping stop. Tony starts yammering on about an after party, but Steve wants to meet the designer.

“Oh, Cap, that walk-and-wave was as close as you’re getting today. Tovarich is a hot commodity. I’ll just get you a fitting sometime.” He clamps a hand onto Steve’s shoulder and tilts his head toward the refreshments. “Shall we?”

Darn. Steve should have done more research on how fashion shows work, but he hates how invasive online snooping feels. It was fine when he was catching up on history and historical figures. However, most of the ‘news’ now is not news at all, so he avoids searching for information that way. He doesn’t ask question about Mr. Tovarich because, in theory, it’s none of Steve’s business and Steve may or may not be slightly ashamed at how obsessed he is with something as trivial as clothing.

Fashion is not something he thought about until very, very recently. The most time he’s spent worried about what he puts on is his tac suit, and the main features of that are being blade resistant and bullet proof. Those things don’t exactly interest him so much as they are in his best interest.

So Steve is rather disappointed by the outcome of the evening, but he’ll manage. For once, he’s got a tiny bright light of something to look forward to in the form of a few more dress shirts and a very sharp vest.

He goes on with life as usual.

Months later and they’re doing this thing.

It’s called the Hellfire Gala, and apparently, it’s a big, big deal. Steve’s told everyone goes all out, that he’ll need to be dressed to the nines, and he realizes this is his opportunity.

Tony’s elated to make the arrangements for him with the Tovarich Atélier and plans to go with him. He wouldn’t stop grumbling about how awkward Steve might be, raving that he can’t have Steve getting a bad rap under his clout, so Steve shows up nervous.

Tony sends a text saying he’s running late. Of course he is, today of all days.

Steve shuts his eyes and lowers his head in gratitude that there are only two seamstresses when he first arrives. The ladies—one older and one younger—offer refreshments and ask a few questions about the event and what styles he might be interested in. He explains the getup needs to highlight the ‘Cap’ persona since the gala is a celebration of their work as Avengers, but other than that, it’s the-sky’s-the-limit for Tovarich.

The younger seamstress smiles at that and calls it ‘fun.’

Sure. That’s one word for it. Steve would also call it daunting.

As instructed, he stands on a small platform while the ladies bustle about speaking quietly to each other. Steve hears Tony ring the reception bell before any measurements have started, and he heaves out a sigh of relief.

“In time for the good stuff, am I?” Stark winks.

“Always perfectly welcome, Mr. Stark,” you, the younger woman, say politely. “Would you care for anything to drink?”

“Uh,” Tony smooths his hand down his current suit front, eyes flickering to Steve, “have you met me?”

Your smile widens. “Dominica, please,” you signal to your coworker.

Between your fingers, you’ve folded a scrap of paper, something you scribbled while Steve stood awkwardly on the pedestal (which isn’t to say he has stopped standing awkwardly), and Tony snatches the paper from your grasp, unfolding it to make a challenging, inquisitive face.

Steve huffs and glares, praying his friend doesn’t start hitting on Tovarich’s employee before the man even shows up. Steve isn’t the one to be worried about.

Stark takes Dominica’s proffered tumbler of brown liquor, saying nothing.

You are a ninja with the tape measure, gentle hands sliding over his chest and waist and—Steve swallows—his hips, all while rattling off numbers…which no one writes down. Steve moves his arms and legs when told. When you’re kneeling on the edge of the platform, eye level with his crotch, Steve decides to distract himself and get some answers.

“I’ve been looking forward to my first meeting with Mr. Tovarich. When might he arrive?”

Tony clears his throat, wincing. “Not possible, buddy.”

Steve tenses.

“I thought that—“

“You can’t meet him for the the first time.” Tony holds up a hand before Steve can move. “You already did. She’s measuring the distance between your balls and the floor.”

Steve startles out a ‘what,’ snapping his legs shut with your hand between his thighs.

“Captain Steve Rogers, please meet your favorite designer,” Tony beams, shoving his tongue against the inside of his cheek and hiking up his eyebrows.

Steve shrinks, face burning.

“Hello, Captain Rogers,” you introduce yourself with a lovely smile, “I will…need my hand to make your suit, sir.”

His open-mouthed impression of a fish is cut short by standing at attention, releasing the seal of his thighs. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry.”

“Very polite,” you mutter before turning to Tony. “Mr. Stark, was that entirely necessary?”

“For the look alone, yes. My god, I’ll pay you again just to watch now that he knows.”

You push off the platform and practically skip over to Tony, reading over his shoulder. “How did I do?”

Tony looks at the piece of paper. “Damn it. Spot on,” Tony grunts.

“And that means…?”

“That I leave you alone for the rest of the consult,” Tony whines. “Fine, but make it worth it, buddy. Lady gets paid by the hour.” He snaps his fingers playfully. “Dominica, let’s take room two, my dear.”

Steve’s not sure what to do with his hands and mistakenly remains up high on the pedestal while you pull out a notebook and sit at a small table.

“Oh!” You look up at him with tender, lively eyes. “You may step down now.”

He feet seem to thunder to the floor even against the carpet. “I didn’t mean to—I just assumed that—I’m sorry, Misses—”

“It’s Miss,” you correct him. “And don’t worry. You are not the first, and you won’t be the last. Have a seat, Captain.”

“Steve.”

“Steve,” you correct yourself this time. “I’ll tell you a secret. I prefer that most people assume a man runs this business. You get to see people’s true colors when they finally find out.”

That doesn’t help Steve’s hot flush of embarrassment.

“You are one of the good ones. I can tell,” you add, adjusting to a fresh page in the notebook and marking the top corner.

In the silence Steve asks, “so you already knew my size?”

“You aren’t so different from my standard cut.”

“No,” he allows. Of course, he should have known that seeing as everything he buys from your label fits him so well. He kicks himself internally while trying not to frown at his slip up. It is, however, easy to keep a smile while basking in the glow of yours.

You pop your shoulder up into a shrug, lips morphing into a wry tease. “And I’m pretty good at what I do.”

Amazing, Steve thinks to himself. You’re amazing…at what you do.

Your elbow rests against the table, hand cupping your jaw as you hold Steve’s gaze.

“Some even call me a master of the male form.”

His swallow is deafening, which only makes you happier, and he looks down at his knee, rubbing his pant leg while his face heats.

“But for today’s purposes—“ you lean back in your chair, twirling your pencil playfully, a magic wand in your brilliant hands “—why don’t you tell me what makes me your favorite designer so I can make you my favorite client?”

Why’d you have to be so pretty? Why do you need him for so few fittings?

Steve has to stop himself from spending a Tony Stark-sized fortune on clothing for the pleasure of walking into your store and seeing you alone—well, in the hope of seeing you at all. Dominica is very sweet, sassy in a hard ass mom kind of way, and she’s one of four total assistants you have at the shop. Steve’s met three of them.

There’s just only one of you, and you’re busy.

Between his duties with the Avengers, actually sleeping, and debating with himself about what constitutes looking desperate, Steve is lucky to have caught you in-house only half the times he visits.

And then he tore a shirt. In fact, he tore three shirts, and to his credit, two of them were by accident. The third…uh, there’s a chance that when Steve exclaimed “oh shoot, I didn’t see that nail poking out” that he 100% saw that nail and deliberately brushed himself against that wall. He also may or may not have deliberately done it in front of Tony, faking that it was no big deal, because now he has the excuse that Tony is the one who told him to go see you.

Yeah, Steve agrees, if you say so.

He’s all excitement and nerves again when he rounds the corner of your street, but then the adrenaline shoots through Steve’s veins for a different reason.

A squad car has jumped the curb in front of your shop, lights flashing, doors left open, and Steve can hear lots of tense voices.

It’s a stressful enough day without the uninvited guest. Not many people—who know how you work and are not assholes—would dare to show up within a month of the Spring Show, without an appointment, and demand a rush job.

A rush job on a custom suit that you explicitly said could not be rushed before its scheduled time, mind you, but the surprise visitor doesn’t care.

Richard Fisk is broad. He has dirty blond hair that falls in front of his eyes when he tilts his head to smile. He often travels with a whole team of other imposing men.

The son of Wilson ‘Kingpin’ Fisk, however, is a prime example of personality souring good looks. Where it’s bashful and adorable that Steve Rogers hides his smile, Richard barely bridles his menacing entitlement.

You hate him, but he’s not a person you can outright refuse. He makes all of your assistants uncomfortable. Fisk is needlessly hostile to Tarik, who is thankfully not here today; he’s a creepy dick to Abby, who you insist stays in the fitting room with Anja, your longtime client who trusts you to push the envelope tastefully for a redheaded woman in her sixties; and he almost made Jules quit because he couldn’t follow instructions during a consult. Dominica stands in as the perfect buffer when she’s here, but the eldest of the Tovarich Atélier employees is currently on the other side of the city for a VIP delivery.

Your busy, busy day just got much harder.

His trio of beefy entourage flanks Fisk at the front of your shop.

“Here for my suit, sugar,” he drawls, flicking his used toothpick into a corner on the floor.

He eyes Abby as she shuts herself and Anja away from his direct ire, and although this leaves you alone, it stops your worry for their safety in addition to your own.

“As it stipulates in the commission, we take at least—“

“Those little hands are free now, I see,” he spits, stepping within an few inches of your face. His breath is foul and hot.

The aggression has you stumbling back, smashing into a side table and knocking a box of supplies to the ground.

“How ‘bout you get to work.”

You take in a heavy, fortifying, and quiet gasp. “Per your order, the fabric is manufactured off-site because teal is not a standard color. It takes time to produce. This was made very clear when you signed.”

Fisk flashes that menacing smile. “We can wait. One of these fine men can…keep you focused till you do your job.”

The condescending tone and disrespect of your work ethic spark flames of rage in your gut. Even though terror still simmers beneath, it’s too easy to let an insult fly.

“You’re lucky I’m even making it. The all white one last summer was a stretch, but teal? On you? Not something you can pull off.”

He lunges forward again. “Keep up the cheek, and I’ll lock you in my basement until I get everything I—“

“Ma’am,” a cop bursts through the shop door, “we got a call…” The officer goes quiet after one look at Fisk.

Abby must have phoned after hearing you knock supplies down, and you’re grateful, yes, but police are of little help with this guy. Cops wouldn’t dare ruffle Kingpin’s feathers or his awful son’s by proxy, but if you roll over now, you’ll never get back out from under him.

The only way forward is to put your foot down.

“Mr. Fisk, I wouldn’t make you a black and white striped three-piece if you did chain me in a basement. You’re a spring, and I have standards.”

“Ma’am,” the officer warns, his partner standing nervously in the open doorway.

“What kind of professional would I be if I let you walk around looking like a mental asylum inmate? I’m doing you a favor!”

Richard brandishes another toothpick. “The customer is always right, sugar.”

It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid to taunt him and yell. Being insulted and diminished doesn’t make you want to be smart though; it makes you want to be right.

Your hands ball into fists of fear and rage. “It’s my name on the label,” you bark, “and I could just refund you to get you the hell out!”

Now you’ve really done it.

The boy gangster’s face twists and his oral fixation goes limp in disbelief. No one talks to Richard Fisk that way, least of all women.

His men step between both the cops and their boss, leaving Fisk himself to grab a solid wood tie box from the nearest counter and fling it at your face.

Your arms fly up to block it, but nothing ever connects, nor is there a crash behind you.

An officer’s voice wavers from across the room. “Uh, I’m sure this can all be worked out. No need to…start anything.”

You’re ashamed to say that your hands are shaking when they return to your sides and reveal an entirely different bulky blond.

Steve Rogers casually holds the caught box in his hands, staring daggers as he shifts squarely in front of you to block Fisk.

“This doesn’t concern you, Captain,” the bully grunts. “Piss off.”

Steve strides forward to replace the box neatly and plants himself inches from Fisk’s face.

“Can’t do that. She’s expecting me.” He turns back to you. “Ready?” Steve asks with a tight smile.

You swallow down one iota of your alarm and clear your throat.

“Yes—” the word cracks but you hope familiarity will scare off Fisk for now “—thank you, Steve.”

That seems to be Captain America’s cue to handle everyone else at odds in the storefront. By the time you get control of your trembling limbs, Steve has shown Fisk the door and promised the officers that you’ll be looked after.

Abby peeks out of the fitting room, surprised to see only Steve.

“Did they send you instead?”

She opens the door wider for Anja to see.

The redhead quirks an eyebrow. “Call the police more often, honey. They’ve upped their game.”

The now bashful, broad blond tilts his head, rogue hair falling across his face. His blue eyes sparkle beneath long lashes while he apologizes for lying, but you can’t for the life of you figure out why he’d feel guilty.

“I…” Steve stumbles. “I don’t have an appointment. I just wanted to see you.”

Currently estimating four parts to this grumbling into the ether but who knows. I clearly cannot be trusted to estimate length anymore...

[Next Part]

You can find more to read on my Main Masterlist! For readers under 18, please see the Light Masterlist which contains all-age-friendly works.

@supraveng @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @femefetalelevelingup @darsynia

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #fashion designer!reader #threadbare #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #steve rogers x reader fluff #steve x reader #steve rogers reader insert

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hoseokslefteyebrow · 1 month

Text

The Anomaly || JJK

Bonus Chapter: Nobara Kugisaki

summary : In which you're isekai'd from your (own) parallel Jujutsu Kaisen universe to the canon universe.

wordcount : 1.9k

Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen X Reader, mostly platonic, you're really just part of the story

Masterlist | Next

You smile, grinning as you pull Sukuna along by hand, your fingers interlaced with his.

" Can you believe it, Sukuna?! We're accepted! We're going to be strong and protect people!"

Sukuna grumbles behind you, rolling his eyes.

" Ehh, who cares. Who are the other first years anyway?"

" Well, there's me-"

" Obviously there's you, Yuu'. If I'm there then why wouldn't you be?"

Sukuna is pretending to be tough, like he dislikes that fact, but both you and Yuuji know better.

Yuuji grins, sharing glances with you.

" Y'know, you can act all tough as you want, but we both know you'd miss me if I wasn't around!"

Yuuji's grinning, and so are you.

" Yeah! Remember back when we were looking for crabs on the beach and you couldn't find Yuuji and panicked?-"

" Y/N, I was 7, give it a rest. He's stupid, I genuinely thought he'd drowned."

" There's no way the three of you are the other first years."

All three of you blink at the new voice which has joined the conversation.

" Megumi! You look great!"

" You I can accept. But really, sensei? Kamo and Sukuna?"

You scoff at Megumi, crossing your arms over one another as you playfully glare at him.

" You should consider yourself lucky actually-"

" Why aren't you in Jujutsu Tech Kyoto? Isn't Kamo Noritoshi there as well?"

" Yeah, well, for that exact reason. The clan doesn't want us to be close, so they figured that I shouldn't go to Jujutsu Tech at all.- Gojo sensei helped me out actually-"

" You condone her being here? She's reckless!-"

You scoff at Megumi's words, also turning to your teacher.

" Hey! I'm fine. I'm fun even, unlike you-"

You glare shortly at Megumi.

" Glad to see you all like each other. We'll have to get going though, there's another first year we're about to meet."

Yuuji, Sukuna and you blink at him. It seems like Megumi already knows.

About an hour later, you find yourselves in Harajuku, waiting on yet another student.

Yuuji, Sukuna and you are from the country side. You've only been to Tokyo a handful of times, so everything looks cool to you. So far, you've only spent your money on a crepe that looked delicious. ( It was too.) Yuuji has gone all out, looking much like a tourist. Sukuna had gotten a crepe too, but he's also been sneaking bites from your own, and Megumi hasn't been engaging in anything. Because, (in your opinion), he's boring.

It takes a few.moments before you notice a familiar uniform,and your eyes twinkle as you notice something.

It's another girl!

Finally, you're not the only one between these idiots anymore. (Sukuna included.)

It takes a few moments, but finally, she notices your group too.

You bow formally as her eyes flit over you, before approaching her in excitement, taking her hands in your own like she's some kind of miracle.

" Hi! I'm Kamo Y/N, but call me Y/N! It's so nice to finally have another girl on the team!- Oooeh, your skin is beautiful, what's your skin care routine? That man had no taste, honestly, you look great! Maybe it was your age he was uncomfortable with, perhaps he-"

" Hey little shit, you're rambling again."

You blink turning around to face your best friend, letting go of Nobara's hands.

" And Who're you?"

" Hello! I'm Itadori Yuuji, and this is my twin. We're all from Sendai! Y/N included."

" Sukuna."

" Fushiguro Megumi."

You can pretty much feel Nobara's chain of thoughts as she judges the three boys. Eventually, she glances at you.

" Soo, you've been around these three how long exactly?"

You blink, deeply thinking about it.

" Uhm, not sure, actually.- Our dads hit it off at a grocery store one day and we've just been hanging out ever since?"

You're not even sure how long you know all know each other, Megumi included.

Nobara hums apologetically.

" And you've been stuck with these dudes ever since? You must have lost so many braincells.- Don't worry though, I'm here now!"

You smile, and both your and Nobara's hands clap together as the two of you jump around.

Gojo grins, happy the two of you are getting along. Yuuji is quick to engage in conversation too. Megumi and Sukuna only exchange glances with one another. They pretty much don't care.

It doesn't take long for Megumi to speak up, eager to either go home or do something useful instead of watching his two classmates gossiping.

" Are we going somewhere from here?"

" We do have all the first year students together. And two* of you only recently arrived from the country side. So of course, we're going on a tour of Tokyo!"

You and Sukuna exchange glances while Megumi looks about done for the day.

Last time Gojo said something like that, he abandoned you and Sukuna at Nanami's feet.

Truefully, that was years ago, but still. Your trust issues come from this man and this man alone.

" TDL! Let's go to TDL!"

" Idiot, TDL is in Chiba! Let's go to Chinatown!"

" Chinatown is in Yokohama! "

" Yokohama is in Tokyo! You know what? Why don't you go look at a map-"

Megumi is just looking at Yuuji and Nobara while they argue over options like it hasn't already been chosen.

You and Sukuna both blink, lowkey expecting what could be coming.

" I will now announce our destination-"

Both Yuuji and Nobara make it a show to get down on their knees.

" Roppongi."

Oh. You think to yourself.

That's not so bad.

You blink at the building in front of you. Yeah, you should've seen this coming.

beside you, Yuuji and Nobara are complaining.

" There's a curse here."

You send Megumi an annoyed glance. Thanks Megs, we hadn't noticed that yet.

Sukuna blinks.

" There is?"

Ah right. Can he see curses? Yes. Can he see cursed energy? No.

After Nobara had a moment to realize Yuuji only very recently joined and didn't know a thing yet, Gojo started speaking.

" I wanna see what you guys are capable of. Just see this as a field test. Nobara, Yuuji, the two of you will go in and excorsize the curse in that building."

Megumi, Sukuna and you turn to him in mild disappointance nd surprise.

" What about us?"

" I've already got a general of idea what the three of you are capable of."

You pout. Megumi seems mildly annoyed by it too.

" Hey Yuu', don't die."

Sukuna's sweet call causes his twin to turn around with a grin.

" Awe, you'll miss me?"

" No. But you have a lock on your suitcase, which is where the Wii is."

Yuuji pouts.

You snort.

Soon enough the two of them enter the building, and you, Megumi and Sukuna are left with Gojo outside.

After sitting down on a curb, Gojo turns to you.

" So, you and Megumi? Since when have you had this rivalry going on?"

You and Megumi blink on one another.

" He stole my bowl of noodles 3 winters ago."

Your words are solemn, dark, like you're talking about a grave crime scene.

Gojo blinks.

He remembers that day. Was that where the arguing started?

Wasn't it Sukuna who had slurped all your noodles?

" I've told you, it wasn't me!"

Megumi sends you an annoyed look, a vein popping the side of his head.

" I know it was you! Who else would it be?!"

The two of you start bickering again, oblivious to Sukuna's amused expression and Gojo's knowing smile.

There are only a few people who can get Megumi worked up like that after all.

" Huh, why are you all empty handed?"

Both you and Nobara blink at your schoolmates as you approach with Nobara's suitcase and your sportsbag filled with clothes sling over your shoulder.

Sukuna raises a brow.

" You two going somewhere?"

" What are you two even doing with all that luggage?"

Panda's pointing a finger at the both of you.

" What do you mean? Aren't we heading to Kyoto?"

" For the exchange school event in Kyoto?"

" The exchange school event with our sister school from Kyoto, which will be held here in Tokyo."

You and Nobara exchange glances.

You face palm.

Maki gives the two of you a pointed look.

" No wonder our conversation have been a little off all this time."

" I know right?"

" Salmon."

" Y/N should've known, considering her cousin will be here in a few minutes."

" Right? She mentioned she was excited to see him."

" Are you kidding me?! Then what did I make all these preparations for? "

You blink while Nobara bursts out, causing you to blink again.

" The event is held at the school which won last year, which was Tokyo."

Poor Panda is getting all shaked up by Nobara, who is currently rambling.

You're about to put your hand on her shoulder and calm her down, when Sukuna wraps an arm around you shoulder.

" Don't stop her, this is amusing."

Rolling your eyes, you nudge him off you, stopping one of your newfound best friends instead.

" Hey, you two, cut it out. They're here."

You blink at Maki, pointing to yourself.

" What did I even do?"

" Ah, well, look at that. Everyone from Tokyo together. Is this the welcoming party? How disappointing."

Mai. You've never spoken to her before, but you heard about her from Nobara, who seemed to have a violent run in with her a few weeks ago, when she unnecessarily showed up.

" I don't see Okkotsu anywhere."

Todo Aoi.

Several of your schoolmates banter in comments for a moment, while Noritoshi sends you a close eyed smile.

" Good to see you, Y/N. I hope you've gotten stronger. You might've been able to beat me before, but you won't be able to do so now."

You grin at him.

" Bet. Try me."

Before anyone can get too heated, Utahime joins the scene.

Currently, Nobara is scrolling through her phone on her bed, her face mushed in her pillow.

She misses you, undeniably so.

She was missing you when you had been missing, and was fearing you were dead, she was glad to hear that you are lost instead. That doesn't mean that things got easier on her side. She feels like she misses you more now, scrolling through random photos in memory of you. Many were taken at the mall or in shopping districts, others with your classmates.

She just hopes that wherever you are, that you would be okay.

Meanwhile, you stare in horror at her body which is now lying lifeless on the floor.

You hope your best friend is alive and well in your own universe.

* I mentioned 2 earlier bc Sukuna and mc have already been to tokyo (dumped at Jujutsu tech lol)

The Anomaly Taglist:

@luxylucylou @kalulakunundrum @strxbxrrylover @aethersslave @jenniferrvsesi @hanatsuki-hime @betizda @sh0uk1

#idkeitherman #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #platonic jujutsu kaisen #nobara kugisaki #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro

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sl-vega · 7 months

Text

✧Sticking to the Script✧-09

⋆｡°✩ 09-i swear i'm not a gold digger guys

You and Xingqiu were walking together in a park, hand-in-hand, fingers interlocked. To any passerby, you looked like any other young couple. Xingqiu had brought you to this park before, you had grown accustomed to listening to his rambles about literature, while the two of you walked together, you had found it rather endearing.

"My apologies, I was rambling again, wasn't I?" he said as his face flushed. He had such a formal way of speaking. You didn't know why, but you always observed his mannerisms.

"It's not fair for me to just go on and on. How's the play going?" he asked, trying to switch the subject back to you.

So polite too, you had thought. Chaoxi never acted like that when the two of you were together. Wait, you said to yourself, that's not fair to Xingqiu. Even if the two of you weren't actually together, it still wasn't right to constantly compare him to your ex.

"(Y/N)? Are you okay?" Xingqiu's asked, his grip on your hand tightening. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking about stuff." you replied, feeling guilty about your previous thoughts. "Production hasn't started yet." you said, answering his previous question.

He muttered a quiet "Oh." before the two of you continued walking in silence. "How long have you been acting?" he asked, attempting to hold the conversation.

"Since I was five."

"What was your first speaking role?"

"Tinkerbell, it was for a school play in first grade."

The conversation continued back and forth, he asked the questions and you gladly answered them.

"Why do you like acting?" he asked. It took you a second to think of an answer. "I like it for a lot of reasons. I love being on stage, I love making people feel things. I love becoming someone completely different, even if it's only for a brief moment." you had caught yourself going on and on this time.

"Sorry, I'm rambling-"

"I don't mind." Xingqiu had cut you off. "Sorry, I mean, I like hearing you talk." he continued, his face flushed. You smiled "Aww, you're so sweet Xingqiu." you looked at the sky, the sun was setting. TIme seemed to go by faster whenever the two of you were together.

"It's getting late, I should probably get going." you said, trying to hide your disappointment. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" he nodded as you walked away.

"Wait!" he called out. You turned around as he walked to you, getting something out of his pocket. He pulled out a small box. "I got you something, think of it as a congratulations gift." he said as he opened the small container, inside, was a ring.

A very gorgeous ring at that.

Holy shit are those diamonds?!

He placed the ring on your right ring finger. "Xingqiu-thank you really-but I can't accept this. How much did this cost you?" Xingqiu paused, thinking for a second. "$30,000?" he said, not even sure with himself.

"30K?!" you exclaimed. Sure, you knew he was rich but you didn't think he was rich-rich. "Keep it. I mentioned you to my father and he insisted on getting you something." he told you as he held your hand, preventing you from taking the ring off.

"Do you like it?" he asked. You stared at the ring, moving your hand around so the jewel could catch the fading sunlight. "I love it, I really do. Thanks Xingqiu." you said looking back up at him.

"I should probably get going now." you said with a chuckle. You gently pecked his cheek before saying goodbye and walking away.

You stared at the ring as you walked, feeling butterflies in your stomach. You smiled, a big, dumb, genuine grin.

It's been a while since someone made you smile like that

additional notes:

-filler b4 production starts

-daily updates guys :3

-SO PROUD OF THIS CHAPTER

-as per usual time stamps don't matter

-the ring image is not meant to represent the reader's skin tone, it's just there to show you how the ring looks like

-that blue heart gif represents a time skip btw

-y/n rich boyfriend era

-ty again for all the love guys

masterlist

✧Sticking to the Script✧

Pairing: Xingqiu x FEM! Reader

Genre: fake dating, strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst (?), high school smau, modern smau

⋆｡°✩-Synopsis: Xingqiu just got entered into a special writing contest, the type that's invite only, the theme this year is love, the only problem is that he has zero romantic experience. but he really wants to prove himself as a writer. meanwhile, you just found out that your boyfriend cheated on you, and you need to show him that you're 100% over him, the only problem is that there's no way you can get an actual boyfriend that quickly. clearly, the solution to both of your issues is to fake date each other. it shouldn't be hard for an actor such as yourself, all you need to do is stick to the script.

(OPEN) Taglist: @freyao7, @thatoneswordgirl, @sn1perz, @latay7, @esmetrees, @nmriki0, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @httpsrenren, @cupid-spams, @aixaingela, @kaitfae, @luvkvni, @danhenglovebot

#xingqiu x y/n #xingqiu x you #xingqiu x reader #xingqiu #reader insert #genshin impact #genshin #genshin smau #high school au #highschool au #high school #highschool smau #social media au #genshin social media au #smau #modern au #modern smau #modern social media au

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heretherebedork · 8 months

Note

Hi, just wanted comment on your last last twilight post. Hope it’s ok.

I totally agree with a lot of things you been saying about the last episode and am mostly on the same page, I just think you are a bit to harsh on Day. And I wanna say that my opinion totally depends on what happens next episode.

But I think it’s only human to overreact sometimes when one is hurt. Mhok never mentioned his worries and his troubles to Day, so it makes sense for him not to know about it. And while I also think the break up is a bit to much of an overreaction and I’m also pretty unhappy how the scene played out in general, I can understand Day being unreasonable in the moment and not being able to see past his own feelings and insecurities. It makes him look like an ass, but when one already feels hurt and angry it’s pretty hard to be rational and take the other parties feelings into account. The thing is that once Day has calmed down he has to realise that he fucked up and go and apologise.

And that why it really depends on how the next episode plays out. I think from a writing standpoint it would totally make sense for Day to go talk thinks out with Mhok, just like he did with August and his father.

It would be a total disservice to his character if that didn’t happen, bc he did it twice before and it showed his growth as a character that he confronted the dad without Mhok having to push him to do it.

But if that doesn’t happen Day would just look like a total dick. It would send the message that August and the father deserve more respect and forgiveness for their actions than Mhok. And that’s just fucked up.

I really hate how Mhok gets punished for being traumatised and I hope Day genuinely apologises for his overreaction and they talk about it. If they decide to take a break after that or have a long distance relationship, it would be fine by me either way. Day should get a chance to support Mhok as well and Mhok shouldn’t need to get over his shit alone.

I’m kinda just writing this bc I see so many people hating on Day for not supporting Mhok, when the show never gave him a chance to do it, bc how could he have known. It’s more a writing problem than it is a problem with Day in my opinion. But yeah the scene was so bad it made my skin crawl.

Anyway sry for this whole ass rant. I really love your metas and writing and I hope you have a lovely day.

I will admit it's a writing problem. It's a huge writing problem.

And, maybe you're right, maybe the finale will open with Day going to talk to Mhok the day after because he came to his sense and realized what Mhok was saying and that this can't be the end and the entire preview was just Aof mocking us like he did in Bad Buddy.

But I just can't trust that.

Look, is there a chance that they will start the episode with Day going to talk to Mhok and all the moments we saw in the preview will be something else entirely and feel different and I'll be thrilled.

But just... what a way to throw so much out at the end of the penultimate episode and in a way that left such a bitter taste in my mouth.

If they had shown Day supporting Mhok at any other point in the show... I would feel better about this. I would feel better about it. But there wasn't. There was nothing. Just Mhok being everything for Day and then Day instantly turning on him and kicking him out?

Actually, one of the bigger problems was how they also handled Day's mom because fuck that noise. How did she go from cutting her son off from the world to suddenly being the one who could ~see his independence~. Fuuuck that noise. That makes me trust it a lot less, honestly. Because they handled that so badly.

I'm just... I want to trust Aof and believe that this will turn into something I can at least accept.

But I just can't trust it.

#last twilight meta #asked and answered #i wish i could believe

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anonymous-dentist · 1 year

Note

Hello I was wondering, what are your reasons for voting for forever? Asking because I can’t decide who to vote for lol

WHY TO VOTE FOR FOREVER:

Lore Museum to help people catch up so they don’t feel left out. This helps encourage creators to return to the server after being gone for a while

PvP Arena (think Fit’s boxing ring) to give non-rp focused people something fun to do. It’s enrichment! :D

If you’ve seen Empires SMP or Limited Life, you may have noticed that everyone is wearing armor, but you can still see their skins. That’s an armor mod, and it’s one of the mods that Forever (and Cellbit, rip) want to add

Once upon a time a month ago or so, Forever mentioned that he’d probably invite a Spanish-speaking person onto the server as his +1 because he feels like there should be more of them. That’s cool! :D

He’s FOREVER!! He’s done so much to help the island already. Look at NINHO! That thing has saved so many eggs from permadeath, it isn’t even funny.

And he’s doing this all to spy on the Federation. He accepts the risks of brainwashing and everything, but he’s doing this because he wants people off the island. He’ll be cooperating, yeah, because he has to, but he’s still a key part of the Ordo

So the rp storyline potential there is HUGE! A betrayal arc, a spy arc, a corruption arc, infighting between Insaneduo again, infighting between the favela five + richas, infighting between drama trio!!!, being forced to work with the Codes, it’s crazy!!!

Most of the other candidates haven’t really had anything that grabbed me tbh:

Bad’s entire thing is not becoming president and he wants an egg council, but wouldn’t that just put the eggs at further risk? And other than that, I haven’t really seen any other campaign promises out of him

Felps is only running because he, like Cellbit was, is meant to act as a meatshield in case anyone got too assassination happy. He’s kinda just doing it for fun, too, and that’s fine, but yk.

Etoiles’ campaign and narrative potential are SUPER GOOD, but, to me, it all just chalks up to “I will give people armor and do more dungeons”, which is super cool and all and I’d love to see him step into power as the Federation’s number one enemy rn, but Forever kinda just grabbed me more?

And Mike is actually my second choice. I like all his ideas, and I think he deserves it, but genuinely Forever got me more through his campaign speeches. He just sounded so genuine that I was like. Huh. Vote Insaneduo!

#asks!#anon!#I don’t speak Portuguese so I don’t know a ton of his actual campaign promises

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effervescentdragon · 2 years

Text

because I got complaints that I'm a coward about things from @blorbocedes in this and because my Mutti didn't raise a pussy (gn, affectionate), here have this bcs I can't stop thinking about it :

The lights of Abu Dhabi are bright, but not as bright as his smile. Nothing compares to the feeling of after a win, and he just won for the fifth time. Five WDC's for Number Five, Sebastian Vettel, he hears the broadcasters say. Five-time-World-Champion Sebastian Vettel.

He finally made it.

"Congratulations," Jenson says, and his smile is just wicked enough for Seb to notice, but not enoigh for the cameras to catch it. Sebastian knows Nico is in the paddock somewhere, and he knows he has an open invitation to join them. (What happens on race Sundays stays there, as it always did, and this is Abu Dhabi. It doesn't count, or that's what Nico always claimed. Jenson and Seb would only look at each other, and make him shut up for the night.) "Five-time World Champion! How does it feel?"

Like vindication, he could say. Like finally getting back something that was owed. Like the world is finally where it should be, aligned as it should have been a long time ago. Like justice, cosmic or carmic. Like it should be. Like it did the previous four times, only even better.

He smiles for the cameras, practiced and with ease. "Wonderful," he says instead. "Emotional, and amazing." Jenson smiles back, and when the cameras stop rolling, he leans in closer. "Find us for the celebrations?" Sebastian looks at him, as handsome as he always was, aging like a fine wine, even better with age. Sebastian knows how Jenson tastes, though; and he is more of a beer man himself.

"Perhaps," he replies, and Jenson lets him go with a final squeeze of his hand.

He goes through all the obligatory procedures; he hugs more people than he will ever remember, and this is familiar too. Like an old reflex, it comes back, the exhilliration, the congratulations, the old song and dance which he knows from years ago; which he never could, or would, forget.

He hugs Charles around the waist when he comes to congratulate him. "I'm not free tonight," Charles says into his ear. "I'll make it up to you in Monaco," he says with twinkling eyes, and Seb has no doubt that he will. He sees Carlos waiting around, pointedly not looking at them, and smirks. "Be good for him," Seb whispers back, patting Charles on the cheek, and sees a reflection of his own smile in Charles'. Good, he thinks. You're finally learning. You're learning to always care less for them than they do for you. Good. "I'm always good, but I want to be the best," Charles says with that clumsy wink of his, and when Sebastian laughs, it's, surprisingly enough, genuine. "Find someone to take care of you good tonight" are Charles' parting words, and Sebastian smirks, knowing that won't be an issue.

He shakes hands, accepts congratulations, and then finally, Mick comes to him. He's beautiful, sweaty and red from the race, his fireproofs soaked with sweat. His eyes are a bit wild, and he looks like it wasn't Seb who won, but like he did. Genuine, Sebastian thinks. Mick is so genuine, and then he doesn't have time to think anymore because Mick throws himself into Seb's embrace. "You were amazing, amazing, congratulations, Sebastian," he speaks into Seb's skin, like he can't help himself, more overcome with emotion than Sebastian himself is. He smells good, and he hugs Seb tight, and he is good, and Seb can feel his brain turning.

"Thank you, Mick," he replies, and Mick doesn't let go. Mick always takes whatever affection Seb gives him, always holds on for as long as Sebastian will allow it. He always makes sure to be conscious of when he should back off, and Seb does give pretty obvious signals for when they get too close. Why, a thought pushes through, unbidden. Why do you still keep him away, when he is so desperate for you? Why, when you know he would give you everything, and even more, if you just let him?

Michael's face comes up then, but it's not - it doesn't hurt like it used to. Michael isn't here, he thinks. Michael isn't here, and you just won a race and a championship, and you knew you were going to win, and Michael isn't here.

What morals are you playing at, Sebastian, he hears the voice he's long ago heard, but never forgotten. An echo from the past; from eleven years ago, spoken in harsh German, but not a harsh tone. What morals are you holding onto, and does it even matter, when it's already too late, when you're standing this close?

"Sebastian," a voice says, and it takes him a moment to parse it from the voice in his head. It's too similar, and for a moment, the voices coalesce. He cranes his head back and opens his eyes, and the eyes looking into him are just different enough to cement what he knew was going to be inevitable sooner or later.

"Yes, Mick, I'm here," he says, and Mick's eyelashes flutter. "I'll text you after the circus, we can celebrate?" He makes sure to let his fingers brush against Mick's throat, and he sees the way Mick's eyes widen and he feels how he swallows, right underneath his fingertips. Mick has a nice throat, and Sebastian wants to squeeze it suddenly, or maybe see how it looks when it's full. He has no doubt Mick would let him.

"Oh," Mick says. "I thought - your friends, Jenson is here, and - Charles," Mick says, and Sebastian supresses a smile, because Mick cannot hide the flash of jealousy in his expression, or everything he's just inadvertedly revealed to Sebastian. Keep that jealousy, Sebastian thinks, remember it for when you have to fight him on the same team. He doesn't think he would begrudge Mick the title in red as much as he would begrudge Charles.

(He thinks he may begrudge it even more. He thinks retribution to it may be even sweeter. He thinks that, if he threads carefully enough, he may get to find out if he's right.)

"No, actually, I do have to meet some people, but," he bites his lip; a calculated movement that pays off when Mick's gaze gets stuck on it, "I just want to spend time with you."

It's worth it, to see Mick come to an understanding; to see blush in his cheeks and incresulousness mixed with happiness and relief in his gaze. Sebastian keeps his emotions out of his face, and when Mick nods and whispers "Okay, just - text me, I'll wait," he rewards him with another hug, making sure to step even closer this time, fitting his body against Mick's fully.

When Mick steps away, he is flushed, and Sebastian thinks he is beautiful, and good, and endearingly charming. (He thinks he cannot wait to see in all which ways he can ruin him.) He nods, and Mick steps away, and with a final squeeze on Seb's forearm, he walks away.

Sebastian watches him go, the movements of his body decisive, and thinks about Michael for one final time. He thinks about what is due, and what is just, and what is inevitable. He thinks about how, by now, he's paid off all his debts, all the ones he had to repay at least; and as for the rest, well. Fuck it.

Sebastian has just won, and he deserves a prize.

#so this was on my mind for the whole day and night and i couldnt sleep till i got it out #imma publish it at some ungodly hour of the morning because thats the kind of person i am #bastard!seb #evil!seb #when a sunshine refuses all morals this is what happens #rbr seb take 2 #if youre looking for wholesome look away #yes this is about sebastian vettel #misa you better fucking love me #ambiguous relationships but lets say #sebchal #sebmick #kinda #f1 rpf #my writing #effervescentdragonwrites #i am cackling like a swamp witch

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set-phasers-to-whump · 2 years

Text

silence is golden

prompt: "you better start talking"

whumpee: illya kuryakin

fandom: the man from uncle

hi hello i will be honest this fic is not the best. but these things happen yknow? such is life etc etc.

He supposes it’s his own fault for not locking his bedroom door. Of course, it’s his apartment and there isn’t any real need to lock the inner doors, but still. If it had been locked, Solo would have been forced to knock, which would’ve given Illya enough time to put a shirt on.

As it happens, though, the door isn’t locked. Solo barges right on in to his bedroom as Illya is getting dressed for bed.

His back is turned to the door, and as soon as it opens Illya whirls around to face the intruder.

“What are you doing?” he asks his partner.

“I have a key,” Solo says, and then he just stares at him. “What happened to you?”

Illya realizes a little bit too late that the bruises covering his torso are on full display. He crosses his arms over his chest, as though this will do anything. He says nothing, simply turns around and grabs his shirt.

“Just because you have a key doesn’t mean you can come into my room,” Illya protests, hoping to distract Solo from the bruises.

His partner will not be deterred that easily.

“Illya, those bruises are truly nasty. What happened?”

Illya remains silent and pushes past Solo into his living room. He doesn’t really know what he hopes to accomplish by this. Solo just follows him out.

“You better start talking, Peril. Don’t think I won’t stay here all night to get you to tell me what happened.”

Illya shakes his head and sits down on the couch, for lack of anywhere else to go. “It’s none of your concern.”

Solo settles down next to him, just a little bit too close. “What are you talking about? You’re my partner, of course it’s my concern.”

Illya stares at him. What does them being partners have to do with this? It’s his injury. His problem. Solo is not at all involved.

“It’s only my problem.”

“No, it’s not. Let me see again.”

“No.”

“Why do you have to be so damn stubborn all the time? I’m just trying to help.”

“You’re stubborn too. Leave it alone.”

“Why should I?”

“Why shouldn’t you?”

“Because I care about you, okay? Is that so terrible? You’re hurt. I want to know why. I want to help. That’s all.”

Solo sounds sort of angry, but he also sounds genuine. This gives Illya pause. He’s still getting used to it, this truthfulness, these sincere offers of help.

He doesn’t always want to accept these things, but he does want to try. He has been chosen for UNCLE for a reason, after all. He needs to show that he can work in this environment.

“It really isn’t so bad,” he emphasizes, lifting the hem of his shirt.

Solo’s fingers ghost over the livid purple bruising that mottles his skin. All of it is tender and sore. Even this lightest of contact has him tamping down the urge to flinch.

“Looks pretty bad to me,” Solo says. “Does it hurt much?”

Illya shrugs. “Not really.” He’s had far worse.

“Have you iced it?”

“Why would I do that?” It’s only bruises. He doesn’t think they need any real attention.

“It’s good for the pain. Reduces swelling, too.”

“I’m fine.”

Solo sighs. “Right. Any chance you want to tell me what happened?”

“Not really.”

Another sigh. “I don’t know why you insist on trying to make people not care about you. I’m not going to stop, you know, just because you don’t want to tell me anything.”

Illya stares at his partner again. This is kind of…a lot. He isn’t sure how to feel about the idea of Solo caring about him regardless of Illya’s attempts to brush him off. He figures maybe telling Solo something won’t be the worst thing in the world.

“Fine. I will tell you. It’s not that interesting, anyway.”

It had really just been bad luck. He’d been cornered by a street gang, most of them just kids. They’d had numbers, though, and several had had weapons - mostly baseball bats and the like. They’d demanded his money, his coat, his watch.

Naturally, he’d said no. He’d tried to walk away - he hadn’t wanted to beat up a bunch of teenagers - but they’d come after him in a swarm. The one with the bat had done most of the damage, though they’d all been horribly enthusiastic.

He’d tried to simply push through them at first, but they’d been surprisingly resilient. Eventually, after he’d taken several solid blows, he’d hit one of them in the stomach at full force. He’d collapsed almost immediately. This apparently had startled his friends. Illya had hit another one of them, and they’d all run away.

That’s it. Just a matter of poor timing and overzealous, overconfident kids. Really, he thinks it’s probably good they chose him as a target. No one had been seriously hurt, and they definitely could have been.

He tells Solo all of this.

“That’s not interesting?”

He shrugs.

“And you’re sure you’re alright? It’s only bruises?”

“I am fine.”

Solo shakes his head. “If you insist. How about you let me get you some ice?”

He’s already acquiesced to two of Solo’s requests tonight. What’s one more?

“Fine.”

The ice, as it turns out, really does help. It’s unpleasantly cold against his skin, but it numbs the pain. He lies on the couch with his feet sticking out over the armrest and several bags of ice covering his torso. Solo, meanwhile, sits in an armchair beside him with his feet propped up on the coffee table.

“See?” he asks. “I told you ice would help.”

“Fine,” Illya mutters. “You were right.”

Strangely, Solo doesn’t take this opportunity to gloat. Instead, he says, “thanks for letting me help you,” and he sounds sincere. It’s still a bit odd, Illya thinks. The idea that someone really wants to help him. Nonetheless, it appears that Solo does indeed want this.

“Thank you for helping me,” he returns. He supposes he might simply be forced to get used to having someone around that insists on caring about him.

Maybe it won’t be so bad.

thanks for reading! in Important Me NewsTM i cannot believe in a week i will be 20. the passage of time is truly the most fucked up thing known to man.

#whumptober2022 #no.25 #you better start talking #the man from uncle #fic #illya kuryakin #bruised #my writing #i say things #look sometimes a fic just. is not very good. no real reason. just happens #hopefully tomorrow's will be better tho :)#in other news this is my 30th tmfu fic #which puts it tied w 911 as my second most written-for fandom #i think this is so funny bc i started watching 911 3 years ago and only watched tmfu 1 year ago #i rlly did just latch onto this movie so bad huh?#anyway. night!!!

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vinesinmydreads · 4 months

Text

Dear diary,

I don't know what to do. Sometimes, keeping something inside is what lets the passion burn. The more it's contained, the more the pressure builds, the less anything risks waste. People online share their names and I think, why not share mine? Then I remember, who will care to use it if I hardly speak? Does anything like affinity draw me to choicelessly surrender my name, or draw me to speak? Why does it matter if a username is fine? My name and anything I keep in my heart is too beautiful to unwisely give away. The self-loving person is expensive.

But that's not the point.

I just cannot tell him.

I've already revealed to him that there were a few months during which I liked him. He, genuinely puzzled, or perhaps solemnly struck (as I fear I would hope), asked "Why?" And I couldn't give an answer — or I don't remember the answer I gave: same thing.

Over time, I processed and processed. Eventually, I'd stumbled upon convincing answers (multi-insufficiently-talented, minimal discipline, apparently fickle with social closeness, easily bored, grave mismatches in music taste, ace, insufficiently soothing, quiet, and warm [although has been precisely that, once]). It must have been at least 12 to 18 months since I've told him of the attraction I once felt. Solid reasoning to abort.

I still think about him.

Perhaps not longingly, not love. Love.

But something still makes me sad. A conclusion sustained throughout all of my thinking after all of this time. This is a tragedy. I deeply obsess over something like him. He may not draw as well as I do; he may not sing or dance at all, let alone as well as I do. But we mostly share our humour. And his mind is enriched with an array of interests that could show me the world. My heart and I skip in those moments in which we are the only two who understand something. Maybe there are more often times when you're the only one who understands something.

Finally...! — my heart has skipped at moments — someone whose vocabulary and grammatical acuity dwarfs or matches mine. The moments when you show me I know so little. Planets quite like Earth and life of insects, giraffes, birds, and wildebeests. When you nearly embarrassingly show me how little of an archaic story I know.

Your and my shared obsession and utter difficulty with love — not one week going by when you don't mention it. Your mind. In all my subsequent romantic interests, I've haven't found any like it.

You are the only romantic interest with whom I've felt a clear love at first interaction, though only on my part I'm sure. How you remember words I've said to you at that point more than I do is beyond me.

People compliment your pretty eyes, but it's not just your eyes. It's your eyes, your hair, your skin, teeth, nose, lips, and body. Your voice. I couldn't care less that your ass is flat. And sometimes, I couldn't care that you're ace. We've agreed once that if we're both single by 30, we'd marry. But I just don't know if I should tell you.

That if you wanted someone to kiss you, I would do it. If you needed your dick sucked, or if you wanted to try sucking one once, I would be there. That if you were okay with it, I would be at least 50% in support of cosigning a cruel simulation of a relationship with you, knowing that it will likely end in godless destruction because of our same temperamental differences. "Differences." Is that exaggerative and still afraid?

"What is your favourite trope?" "Romance" I asked him in two bubbles. After he answers, we have the exchange below.

{

"STOP ASKING ME STRANGE QUESTIONS" he texts

"No 🥰" "I ask you questions because you're weird" "Like accept that" I text back in three separate bubbles

"grrrr" "RAHHH" his response

}

Horrible representation of his character, I'm sure, but that's the longest string of capitalised words he's given me. It makes me fear now if I've made him uncomfortable in any way. Now, I don't even know if it stems from me not exactly knowing what I want.

Oh, what I could want from you now. I almost find myself not being afraid of longing for a world in which you're finally sad. And with me.

It dawned on me before having written this. I am so nearly willing to wring my heart through the painful experience of back-and-forth riots and insecurities and love and warmth and resentment and codependency and need, because I just know that somewhere, outside of our everything, you are everything I could ever want. That we are perfect for each other. And whatever mess we would make here would be the desperate closest we get to experiencing it.

Why should I tell you this, knowing the pain to come, knowing all of this energy could be wasted? Why had I told you I liked you at one (quite long) point? Did you need or appreciate that information? Would you the same with this? That false confession you made to me out of boredom 2+ years back.. It meant nothing, yes.. Is it not best that we are now?

We texted each other, calling each other pretty just 3 weeks ago. We haven't said so to each other before, and we have interests and differing tastes in faces. And we complimented each other as though we thought so of each other all the while. But you, so picky with faces, think I'm pretty. And you've thought so all the while.

Why had your opinion mattered to me for so long — to the point that I starred the message? I just know I needed all these words to exit so that my heart could breathe.

You are indeed weird. But I asked you those strange questions because,

from the moment you made our online class laugh during the pandemic — hearing your voice — and from the moment at school where you stepped and pointed towards me to confirm my face and name... over all the time I've ever known you..

Even now,

you've deeply fascinated me

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desiccated-isolation · 7 months

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Tried to leave but I need my overly dramatic blog spot or I’ll pass out from a panic attack. I fucked up (again). It’s the only thing I’m good at. I don’t understand how people believe in me when I’m actually just a person. Everyone around me seems so amazing. People with no help thrive and become better than the people who left them. I break down over the smallest thing. I feel everything so intensely. I genuinely don’t understand how people can feel things and not feel like their heart is a part of it. When someone gives me a problem, I feel that confusion or hurt or frustration. I get it. Problems and no solutions. So I try my best to help. But I’m not helpful. I used to be. I think.

Living feels like I’m drowning. Dying feels like I’m cheating life. My only purpose in life is to suffer and bring pain. That’s what it feels like. Not sure how trying to help people turned into what this is now. Grinding yourself into the dirt emotionally and (at one point) physically. Lifting everyone around you.

“I’m not jealous. I’m envious.” Or whatever. I’m genuinely happy for the people around me. But, again, my love is toxic. I love what you have, but I want it to. I wish I could have it. I’m not jealous because I don’t believe I deserve anything. Which is kinda weird cause I’m not scared to ask (depending).

I always ask to help everyone else. But I have a hard time asking to help myself. Normally I wait until it’s not manageable.

I’ve helped people. Now? Idk. Idk how to reach out. Idk what I should be doing. I don’t know what I want. Besides my partner to be happy.

I feel like every time I talk to him, it’s always about me and never him because he knows I always put everyone ahead of me so he does the same. I don’t know what to do.

I had things I was passionate about. Not anymore. I wanna like those things again. I wanna like myself. I just wanna be able to breathe again. Change is terrifying. Crawl out of my skin TERRIFYING. I need things to be a certain way to function. Disorganized events stress me out. Unfortunately, life is disorganized.

I love him more than I love anything in the world. I love him more than myself. I love him more than anything. I’m toxic and obsessive. But I really do love him more than anything. I’m not materialistic. I’m fine going without. I just get bored. I’d rather him get stuff but he always asked me what I wanted. I overindulged. I’m sorry. Love was materialistic growing up. For the most part. But, I should have learned. Nobody is perfect. Parents aren’t perfect. Shit was fucked up. But ig modern middle class housing and lifestyles disqualifies that.

I’m a liar, cheater, thief, manipulator, whatever else you can think of that describes a bitch. But, I did love. Misplaced and disgusting and disrespectful and aggressive love. I’m sorry.

I’m going to get better. I hope it’s not too late. Even if that’s selfish. Even if it’s toxic right now. I guess I just crave validation in that way. I’m egotistical enough to actually wanna do better to show off that I can do it too because I’m just weird like that idk(?) but I’m just low enough to understand that I don’t deserve the ground I walk on.

I don’t wanna hurt anymore because I’m tired of hurting people I love because of all the fucking intense rage inside of me. It’s sad but I’ve accepted it long ago. I’ll go through the motions of getting better again. Because that’s what’s expected. Just like always.

#vent

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adeepercxt · 8 months

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queenofthursday6599-blog · 10 months

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Am I alone in thinking that a lot of transphobes/homophobes also have main character syndrome?

Like there are people out here who seem genuinely convinced that people's gender identities and sexual orientations are about upsetting them.

Boo no one knows who the fuck you are.

Trans people aren't trans in the name of pissing off transphobes, non-het people aren't things other than hetero in the name of pissing off homophobes (because we're all the same to them).

It's not about you guys, it's never been about you guys, and it's never going to be about you guys.

Okay. Full stop. Most queer people wouldn't even care what you guys think about us as long as we stopped getting murdered, and raped, and tortured about it.

Feel what you feel, even though you're a bigot, and that's just a fact, just don't abuse and murder us about it.

You think we're icky. Okay, fine, be that way. Leave us alone then.

The world isn't about you, and doesn't need to cater to you and your wants and desires, as you all love to tell us queers. Go about your business, and we'll go about our business, and we'll be polite to you if you'll be polite to us.

I feel like I'm not even asking for a lot really, literally only for basic human decency.

And sure there are plenty of other queer/lgbt+ people who disagree with me. And the rest of this post is more directed at them.

People who think everyone should love and accept us for who we are, no matter what we are and how we identify, and who we want to share our lives with.

And that's a lovely dream, it's a great goal for us to work towards, but we're not there yet.

We're on like step 12 of 200 on the universal love and acceptance plan, and we still got to get past step 20 of Hey Don't Murder Us Because We're Not Like You, before we can get to step 160 of Let's All Celebrate Are Differences Together.

It'd be great if everyone could get along and love each other as diverse individuals each portraying a completely unique and special existence in the tapestry of the human experience.

We'd all (or at least the majority of us, some of us are petty enough to still be pissed) love that.

But there's some people out there who still struggle to see other people's humanity through the surface differences of others, like their skin tone.

I don't know how it'd be possible for us to defeat homophobia/transphobia before we manage to end racism. Racism is literal ass backwards garbage that has been proven to be based on literal nothing and somehow it's still alive and well no matter what we try.

How are we supposed to convince these people that we, who have experiences so different from them, that we have the same innate humanity, when we haven't even managed to convince them that people of other ethnicity and nationalities are in possession of that innate humanity.

My hope for humanity is high, but my expectations are a few inches off the floor. Because I love my fellow human being, but also know them well enough that you have to sometimes bugs bunny fool them into not being shitty.

Some people are just mean, they're just jerks, and assholes, and hateful, and I don't want to waste anymore time and effort on them than I need to. I don't need them to like me, I just need them to respect my humanity.

It's not our jobs to fix our abusers and oppressors, and sometimes I feel like lgbt+ people can forget that.

#if this sounds huffy in some areas I'm a bit mad #also I love my fellow lgbt+ people but some of you gotta bring your self down to reality #I'd love it if all the bigots woke up tomorrow and realized they were wrong and hateful and changed their ways #and the eventual goal of a world in which people aren't hated and killed because of their differences is where we want to end up #but also we're climbing a staircase you can jump a step here and there but not like 10 #not without wiping out and eating it anyways #sometimes we need massive open pushes for equality sometimes we got to be bugs bunny and trick the assholes into acting decent #and I'm okay with that #I don't need to be liked by everyone #I just don't want to be unjustifiably hated by anyone either #you can hate me because I think your fave show is hot garbage not because of my sexuality #lgbt+#you ever hear some absolutely heinous thoughts come out of someone #I would tell them they need jesus but most of them are convinced they already have him

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mezzo-mezzo-man · 2 years

Photo

It's Christmas Eve, and I'm much more drunk than an eighteen year old should be. The tab for this post has been open for a few days, going almost wholly ignored. Maybe if anyone has taken the time to read my past posts they expect me to be profound or organized or put meaning into this shitty little blog but that's not what this is going to be.

I miss her. There's no more raw a statement than that. Sure we dated in middle school and periodically kissed, but the depth of anything physical was nothing compared to the monolith of our friendship. She was my deepest companion with whom I had no parallel rapport. Being a teen, a whirlwind of platonic and romantic feelings cycloned within, making comprehensive statements about our feelings for one another uniquely difficult, but what mattered was the bond.

The bond wherein we knew each others' families intimately. Where I would pick up breakfast for us and she'd show me films I would have otherwise never heard of. Hayden was vulnerable and strong, soft and fierce. She gave me the first dress I had ever tried on, and I left lipstick silhouettes on her porcelain white cheeks.

Once a year we would dress nice and share Crème brûlée on my birthday. Through multiple girlfriends and ephemeral loves our relationship survived. We'd watch the sun rise behind the skin of one another, and focus on the texture of our soul's companion.

I speak in the past tense of course, not because she's dead but because our relationship is. It seemed for a week or two like I was the only one trying. I got back with a mutually despised ex, but surely nothing one of us did could ever undo what two had built. I stopped texting to see what would happen, and slowly... nothing. Six months later I asked what the deal was, and you said I was an asshole. Reasonable. I was. Junior year gave me a drug problem. And a sociopathic tendencies problem. That being said, if anyone could have brought me away from it, it was you.

I know it sounds from this post like the significance of this friendship is one sided, but I remember her words. I remember her telling me every secret she's ever had, and how I meant more than material possession or the fear of death ever could. Our word was law, and if I was told to cut the shit, my antics would have been erased from history. But no word ever came, just silence. And that's what sucked the most. The static on my end. When I asked what the deal was you said you were sorry, but I don't forgive you. I won't forgive you.

You could have been vile and I still would have loved you. If we're taking into account the mutually hated ex, it's basically a guarantee. But nothing for eight months. Hate indicates care, indifference is the opposite of everything we've ever had.

I overdosed without you there.

I told somebody I loved them and never meant it.

You seemed from afar like nothing changed. I of course, figured my own shit out. Everything's... fine. I have scholarships, and got accepted to university, and have new friends, and new vices but my world will never be the same without you. We're too close to graduating now to mend things, at least I think so. I'm too invested in too many different people now to care so deeply, so naively about the likes of you once more. I feel like we both could have been so very different given the past year together. But you're non confrontational, and I'm vindictive and petty. I really thought how much I cared about you could make me care about everyone and everything again after Julie's death. I thought wrong.

I accept my current state of vanity, and false care I promise to have for those who so genuinely care about me. I accept my pedestal as this small pond's big fish, and being an effigy to Dionysus. I do not accept your apology. But most of all I don't accept ever forgetting you. No matter how hard I try Hayden. My heart misses yours greatly. The pastoral landscapes of my youth will never not contain a small piece of you.

-12/24/2022

#nostalgia #love poetry #prose #i miss it #vulnerability #longing #love letters #letting go #moving on #heartache

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unfoundhoney · 3 years

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a sister’s sacrifice ; part three ↠

↠ platonic!c!sleepy bois inc x fem!reader , platonic!c!tubbo x fem!reader ; angst just angst

↠ masterlist

↠ part one ; part two ; part three ;

↠ @leafyturtle @basheverythingyesterday @terribletoothbat @bestioe @junoblad3 @machiebach @ok-honey

when considering the deaths of the people on the dream smp server, yours is the hardest

schlatt was detested by all when he’d died

few people still truly cared for wilbur when he met his end; the man he once was was long gone by then

but you

you never changed

you were a constant for so many & immovably kind to the rest

selfless, giving, caring

even when you just wanted an escape, you came to the aid of your brothers

you gave the ultimate sacrifice & paid the price

everyone mourns you

when the battle is won & dream locked away indefinitely

once everyone has come down from the high of freeing themselves from dream’s reign, the server goes into a state of grieving

there’s no denying your death

they all saw the message in chat

you’re dead

those that were close to you took it hard

niki was narrowly stopped from burning down the bakery you encouraged her to open and helped build

eret put her emotions into work on a memorial in their museum for you

even under the egg’s control, bad & ant put the eggpire aside for you

of course, those who took it the hardest is your family

when ghostbur learns of your death, he’s distraught

he doesn’t quite know how to handle the information

he protects your home & only allows people to enter when he supervises them

tommy took a while to move past his anger & deal with the fact that you’re gone

tubbo ran off to start snowchester

he chose to distract himself rather than truly process his emotions, even if you’d always done your best to break that habit of his

now that you’re not around, who’s to stop him from letting himself be numb to it all?

techno is another one of your family members who chose to barely acknowledge your passing

he became somehow more monotonous & emotionless

and phil

...

there’s no word for a parent who loses a child

wilbur was gone & of course it messed phil up to be the one to take will’s last life but by that point his son was gone

but you

you’d always been such a genuinely good person

phil did so little for you as a father

he was so absent

he never apologized to you for that

he never told you how much he loves & appreciates you & everything you’ve done to keep their family together when he couldn’t be bothered

it’s a few hours after he received the news from ranboo that all the guilt for everything he had ever put you through hit him

he broke down in his kitchen while trying to distract himself by organizing his cupboards

but all he could think about was you

you & your never ending kindness & compassion

he was never a father to you

yet you never hated him

why couldn’t you have hated him?

it would hurt less to lose you if you hated him; it’s what he deserves

he’s unworthy of your love

but he can only dwell so long on you

you are given a proper funeral

you’re buried by the seashore, somewhere between l’manberg and tommy’s abandoned vacation homes in an open field

the sever members plant so many flowers, your gravesite becomes a flower field

but soon, life goes on

it will only hurt for longer to draw out the mourning period

it would do no good for anyone

besides, you wouldn’t want the server to be sad for your sake

techno supposes it’s for the best that you died

he does his best to move on, filling his days with resource gathering and upgrading his tools, weapons, and armor while trying to think through his emotions logically

as much as he liked you

as much as everyone liked you, you were too good

you were the best of them

fate is not kind to heroes

“hello!”

technoblade is not an easy man to sneak up on, let alone scare

the greeting itself isn’t want startles him

it’s turning toward the voice to lock eyes with you

you who is dead

techno is not proud of the sound he made when he saw you but you of all people wouldn’t make fun of him for it

he just stares at you, slowly realizing what’s happened

you look desaturated, the color drained from your clothes

your skin is grey & almost translucent

you’re a ghost

“y/n.”

“hello! who are you?”

techno tells no on one of your ghost form

he even keeps the rest of the server a secret from you

he leads you to your old home & leaves you there w/ ghostbur

he hopes your and ghostbur’s combined amnesia will keep you out of harm’s way i.e. the rest of the server

he visits you occasionally but mostly leaves you be

you live happily with ghostbur for a while

he is very glad to have you back

his memory is nearly as bad as yours, so the story of the server & what happened to you when you were alive is only given to you in bits & pieces that are near impossible to fit together

it was only a matter of time before someone came to visit your house

“...y/n?”

it’s tubbo who finds you first

or he finds your ghost

(tubbo) y/n! oh my god! you’re a ghost! you’ve come back!

(you) hello! *whispers* ghostbur, who is this?

(ghostbur, whispering obviously) that’s tubbo, one of your other brothers i’ve told you about

(you, whispering) oh, right

(tubbo) how long have you- oh, this is incredible! i have to tell tommy! he’s been so sad since you died; he’ll be so glad to see you!

tubbo messages tommy, who is skeptical but reluctantly comes to your house anyway

but there you are

your ghost anyway

which is good enough, honestly

(tommy) y/n!

you catch him in a hug easily, even if you’ve never met him before

(tommy) you’re alive!

(you) no i’m not. i’m a ghost!

techno happens to check in on you when tubbo & tommy are there

bad news for technoblade: you’d told them about techno leading you here

meaning: tommy knows techno hid you from him & everyone else

needless to say, he is not too happy about that

(tommy) you hid her! you kept her away from us!

(techno) tommy, you have to understand-

(tommy) i don’t have to understand shit! you hid her from us! you lied to us!

(techno) tommy-

(tommy) you kept her from everyone! you’re selfish and you’re a liar and you’re horrible and-

(techno) i did it to protect her! she’s been hurt enough protecting others; it’s our turn to protect her. the only way we can do that is by leaving her alone

(tommy) she’s my sister

(techno) your sister is dead, tommy. for once in her life, let her have peace

tommy gives up on techno & goes to you instead

(tommy) y/n! y/n, we can bring you back. we can revive you. well, dream can revive you but he’s in prison so he has to do what we say so we can bring you back. we can be a family again. don’t you want to come back?

(you) ...no

that

...

that isn’t what tommy was expecting

(tommy) what?

(you) if alive y/n comes back, i won’t exist anymore. and i’ve only just got here. i don’t want to go yet

(tommy) don’t you understand how much y/n means to me? y/n has to come back. she has to. she’s so important. not just to me but to, um... tubbo as well! right, tubbo? don’t you want y/n back?

tommy looks to tubbo for some backup but the shorter boy looks away

(tubbo) i think we need to let y/n go, tommy

the betrayal that fills tommy’s chest is soon gone as he locks eyes with techno

tommy knows techno is right

you’re too much of a good person

you’re too willing to sacrifice yourself for others

even as a ghost your kindness is blinding

this server will only drain you of everything you have yet again

he will drain you of everything you are

he’s just tried to convince you to cease to exist to bring back the former version of yourself

(you) i’m sorry. it’s just- i’ve heard there are these really pretty blue flowers in the swamp biome that i haven’t got to see yet-

(tommy) no. it’s fine. i’m sorry. i-... i should go.

tommy leaves your house & tubbo goes with him

even if tubbo caught on a bit sooner to techno’s reasoning, he’s still concerned at his friend’s sudden change in character

(tubbo) tommy... are you alright?

(tommy) ...i really want her back

(tubbo) i do, too. but she’s gone

(tommy) she doesn’t have to be

tubbo can’t argue with that

(tommy) but... maybe it’s for the best

(tubbo) really?

(tommy) yeah.

(tubbo) but just earlier you were telling me about your plan to get the revive book from dream

(tommy) techno’s right, tubbo. all everyone- myself included- has ever done to y/n is take. and she’s given everything

(tubbo) because she loved us

(tommy) as much as she loved us and as much as we loved her... the only thing we’ve ever brought her is pain. i think now... now is her time to rest.

(tubbo) ...that’s very pog champ of you, big man

tommy had planned to visit dream as many times as it took to get the revive book location off of him so he could revive you, but now he’s accepted that he needs to move on

he needs to move on from you & dream & everything dream has put him through

he decides to pay one last visit to dream, put him behind him, & never look back

he’s ready to start a new chapter in his life, one without dream

and the first one without you

but then he’s locked in the prison

two weeks pass

nearing three weeks & tommy still isn’t allowed out of dream’s cell

he’s irritated and annoyed and most of all he’s scared

but he can’t let dream know he’s still afraid of him, that’s why he pisses dream off enough to the point of being beat to death

tommy begs him to stop

but then he’s gone

everything is dark

black

empty

nothing

is this what death is?

conscious in absolute nothingness?

tommy’s feet feel the ground beneath him

his senses come back to him

it’s still dark but he feels as though he can see again

where is he?

heaven?

no, probably hell

or maybe neither?

both...?

what the hell happened?

the first thing to break the silence is the voice tommy has known since he was an infant

the voice of the person who raised him

the voice of the person who has always been there for him

the voice of the person who he has finally let go of

your voice

saying one simple word

“tommy?”

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chilumi-shipper · 3 years

Text

Ready to Let Go

Xiao x Adeptus!Fem!Reader (x Zhongli)

Summary: Zhongli loves you, Xiao loves you, You love Xiao. Seems as though, in the eyes of everybody else, Zhongli was gonna be a problem within your relationship with your fellow adeptus. He would never do that though, not to you, not to Xiao. For the first time, the vigilant yaksha seems happy, and you seem more carefree the moment you two are starting to get close to one another. Zhongli would never trade your happiness for the sake of his own, and that's why, he's ready to let go.

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The God of War, flaunting over one of his very own dearest adeptus, if Guizhong saw him right now, she would've laughed at how much he jumped and flaunted over you whenever you were in his presence.

But love is complicated, he could say he loves you with a burning passion, yet it can never change the fact that you had fell for another, no matter how much Zhongli might push through, you will choose to be embraced within the arms of your true beloved, Xiao.

Neither you nor him ever said anything to confirm the nature of your relationship, but Zhongli felt it, the connection between you and the adeptus was so much more than just two people who used to work along side each other. You and Xiao, he's known both of you for millennias, you're not really the greatest with expressing emotions.

Zhongli was never one to fight reality, in fact he accepted it with open arms, having no care for the pain it might bring.

But just this once, he let's himself drift to a false hope, perhaps you only see Xiao as a friend, that in actuality you tell him the feelings that you're too scared to say to your Archon. But every time Zhongli dreamt like that, he can't help but see Xiao, sadness clouding over him, it slaps the brown-haired man in the face.

He can't do that to Xiao. The poor boy, tormented his entire life, but today, he may very well be bearing a smile on his face, with you around him, with you loving him.

He was sitting between you two, in a table in Wangshu Inn's restaurant area, the light atmosphere was calming.

It was supposed to be a nice get together, yet Zhongli felt irritated. The way your gaze lingers past him and onto the person of your interest as you spoke about how you tried cooking mortal food recently. How you seem to take into account every expression and response Xiao would give, but pay no mind to Zhongli at all.

You weren't being rude and ignoring him the whole time, in fact, you make eye contact with him from time to time, to see if he's understanding you. But Zhongli felt peeved, why couldn't you look at him the way you looked at Xiao?

"I really like cooking actually!" You exclaimed, the cat-eyed adeptus smiling softly while listening to your rambles, his elbow resting on the table, while his chin leans on his hand. That makes Zhongli feel even worse for having such feelings for you, just looking at the small but genuine smile on Xiao's face as he admires you.

"Xiao?" You softly called out to him, clasping your hands together. The adeptus gave a hum in response. "There's this recipe I found called "Tofu Cookies with Almonds", I was hoping you could help me taste test them when I try baking for the first time?" Your voice gets quieter the more you say. Zhongli found it adorable when you get shy, yet he can't help but feel a nauseous felling eating away at his skin, you didn't invite him.

The waitress puts the food you all ordered on your table before Xiao answers. Zhongli looked into your eyes, seeing the nervousness as you anxiously wait for an answer.

"Okay."

Golden orbs then looked at Xiao, seeing he's looking away from you, his ears red from embarrassment. Yet even when he tried to hide it, the Archon can feel his giddiness from miles away.

Zhongli can't help but look back and forth, seeing your eyes light up with happiness because of Xiao's answer. "Thank you so much!" You smiled brightly, proceeding to put some food onto your plate to start eating.

In all this, Zhongli felt as though he didn't have a place. Perhaps you were overjoyed that you didn't look at the fact that you completely discarded him, but someone else noticed.

"Mora- Zhongli can join us too, he's good at taste testing food." Xiao looks at you, before looking at the taller man. "I think." Zhongli then nodded, agreeing with Xiao's statement.

He knows he shouldn't, he knows that he just let the two of you resolve your feelings together, just the two of you. Yet he can't, for once in his life, he feels that it's too hard to let go.

The two looked at you expectantly, despite you making it obvious that you wanted to spend some time with Xiao alone, Zhongli hoped that maybe, just this one occasion, you'll let him intervene with your growing relationship. It's selfish, it's pointless, but just this once.

You smiled, "Okay."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"Mr. Zhongliiii!" You burst in the funeral parlor, calling out to him. "You have to help me." The man got up from his seat immediately, worried.

"What happened?!" He asked in a panic.

You looked down onto the book in your hands, the man did the same, looking at a book that has a very interesting title.

'The Art of Romance: For Newbies.'

What?

Usually, if you were to come to him with a book like that in hand, he would have laughed and teased you, eager to see your embarrassed state. Yet, Zhongli felt nothing but hopelessness, you putting in so much effort for someone else, meaning he really has no chance, does he?

"I need to you to help me look for a really nice dress. Like really, really nice! Oh but not too nice, since we're baking, if I get stains on a dress, he might think I'm sloppy. Oh, but if it's too simple, he'll probably think that I don't really care. Ohhh, but I don't want to seem like I care too much--" You looked up at him, rambling on and on about what you're supposed to wear for tomorrow. "It says here that if the person thinks you're too desperate, they might think it's weird." You pointed at the book that you're holding, bring it closer to his face.

Zhongli gently grabbed your hands that are clasped around the book. "If you're worried about Mora, I already have some on me." You peaked your head from behind the book, looking at the brown-haired man's serious face.

"Him?" Zhongli completely ignores your ramblings, only focused on one thing you said. You're worrying so much about what to wear, just to make a good impression to him.

You felt your cheeks heat up as he looks at you with a frown on his face. You laughed a bit to ease the tension, scraching the nape of your neck.

"Xiao..." He's mentally prepared himself for this moment, you would come to him, ask for advice since you knew him as a very cultured man, and you would confess your love, for someone else. And yet, hearing it come from your own lips seem to crack the barriers of his heart with just one word.

Despite the tears wanting to just slip out of his golden orbs, he smiled at you. "I've always sensed your feelings towards him." His words fluster you even more, you didn't realize it was so obvious, but Zhongli was a very observant person, maybe it was just that.

"Do you wish to impress him tomorrow? That's why you're so... jumpy today?" You nodded, feeling embarrassed that you are worried about this sort of thing. Usually, only mortals are prone to these types of worries.

"Y/N, Xiao doesn't care about those trivial things. You just have to be yourself." He told you as a matter of fact.

'Besides, the Yaksha already is making it obvious that he likes you back.' Zhongli kept this thought internally.

"But what if he doessss." You whine, gripping on the book tighter. "Xiao is just so.... Xiao! So unpredictable and complicated." Sighing, you looked up at the man again. "Can you help me, please?"

Zhongli sighed, although it hurts him to help dress you up so pretty, just to send you off to another man, but he'll bite. How could he ever say no to you.

After hours of rummaging through your closet, you finally, finally find something that's actually good in your eyes, even though Zhongli assured you that everything would be fine.

The dress of your choice has Xiao's colors, white, gold, mint green. You really are some piece of work, piece of work that doesn't belong to him.

Zhongli just kept sighing as he walked back to the funeral parlor, he's conflicted, which usually doesn't happen. Is he just gonna leave you two alone for tomorrow with some lousy excuse, or... get in the way.

As he got to the entrance of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, he saw Xiao, sitting on a bench just outside. The cat-eyed boy sensed Zhongli's presence, standing up and looking at his way immediately.

The brown-haired man walked up to him, silently asking why he's here all of a sudden, in the city, which also doesn't happen very often.

"Can you help me?"

Oh boy, here we go again.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"You don't have to straight up lie if you don't like her treats, you can just give polite comments, like saying you're not really a big fan of them or something." Zhongli explained once again, it was the dead of night. Xiao had asked to help with how he should talk to you, he's not very talkative and expressive, but he doesn't want to make you feel like he doesn't like you.

"But that might also hurt her feelings." The Yaksha pointed out, listening intently to the older man.

"Yes, but she will appreciate the truth rather than a pointless lie."

He just needs help expressing his feelings right.

And Zhongli seeing how you two desperately try to be the best you can for one another, it makes him smile, despite the constant heart ache. And the realization that he has no chance for you, with the evidence right in front of him, Zhongli makes his decision...

He's ready to let go.

"I'm not gonna be joining you two tommorow."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Alternative Ending: Ready to Hold On - Reader chooses not to choose and start a polyamory relationship.

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