#I’m probably talking to the void but I had to get my feelings out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

good-chimes · 11 months ago

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THE DIVORCE OF THE CENTURY

TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS BETWEEN GRIAN AND GOODTIMESWITHSCAR, DAY 1:

His Hon. Judge BdoubleO100: Silence in the court!

[Court is not silent]

His Hon. Judge Bdubs: Silence in the COURT! I can have you all HANGED!

[The court falls as silent as is possible with a dozen Hermits present]

Judge Bdubs: Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today—

Cleo: Ahem.

Judge Bdubs: WHAT?

Cleo: That’s for weddings, Bdubs. We’re not doing a wedding. In fact, if you think about it, this is about as far away from a wedding as you can get.

Judge Bdubs: Fine fine FINE. Dearly beloathed, we have all been dragged here today because SOME PEOPLE can’t get ALONG. Grian, step forward!

Grian: Do I— is this the podium for witnesses? Who built this and why did they make it out of nothing but trapdoors? So. Okay. I’m filing for divorce.

Scar: Wait, I thought I was filing for divorce.

Judge Bdubs: LET THE DEFENDANT SPEAK.

Ren: Bdubs, my man, that’s the petitioner. The court hasn’t accused Grian of any crimes.

Cleo: [darkly] Yet.

Grian: I haven’t done any crimes! I’m filing for divorce from Scar, obviously. As my lawyer will tell you—

Judge Bdubs: Do you have a lawyer?

Grian: Yes, your Honor. This is my defense lawyer Mumbo Jumbo Esq. [Waggles a hand behind his back and hisses] Mumbo!

Judge Bdubs: Mumbo’s your defense lawyer? Aren’t you supposed to have a divorce lawyer?

Mumbo: [steps forward and bows nervously] Well, I’ve never divorced anyone, but I have got a lot of experience in defending, er, mainly myself, come to think of it, and also my valuables. From Grian, as a matter of fact. So I think I’ll stick with ‘defense lawyer’ if that’s alright with the court, thank you.

Judge Bdubs: [leans aside to confer with Cleo] Is that alright with the court? Ask Joe.

[Court Scribe JoeHills confirms this is probably alright with the court]

Judge Bdubs: Good, good, next! Scar, do you have a lawyer?

Scar: Oh, absolutely. My lawyer is this cat I found outside.

Judge Bdubs: Not Jellie?

Scar: Jellie doesn’t believe we’re really divorcing and wouldn’t come.

Judge Bdubs: Is this cat a qualified divorce lawyer?

Scar: She’s a—let me look at those markings—she’s clearly a personal injury attorney.

Cleo: Have you been personally injured, Scar?

Scar: Why, thank you for asking, I have. My feelings have been very hurt!

Ren: Uh, Bdubs, maybe the court should establish some facts. Why they’re divorcing, what the court can do for them, that sort of thing.

Judge Bdubs: YES. Let’s start with the facts. Now, we all know why you and Scar got married in the first place. Don’t stand there and make that innocent face at me, Grian, I know all the secrets. You got married because Etho and I had the WEDDING OF THE CENTURY last month and you were JEALOUS—no, don’t talk, THE JUDGE IS TALKING—you were jealous of us. [aside] Bdubs and Etho had the wedding of the century, Joe, are you writing this down?

Court Scribe JoeHills: Yep, your Honor, I’ve written that down.

Grian: It wasn’t that good.

Judge Bdubs: YOU TAKE THAT BACK.

Grian: Etho had his bouquet wrapped in a Kleenex box.

Scar: [sentimentally] Don’t you listen to him, Bdubs, I thought the flower arch was lovely.

Judge Bdubs: Thank you, Scar! I—

Cleo: You can’t find in favor of Scar because he said something nice about your own wedding decorations.

Judge Bdubs: [with dignity] —was NOT going to do that. Ahem. So, you and Scar got married because you were jealous—

Grian: We didn’t! It wasn’t like that!

Judge Bdubs: —and now you want to get divorced. Why?

[At this point Petitioner Grian and Petitioner Scar, who have been studiously avoiding each other’s gazes, appear to lock eyes by accident. They both jerk away like they’ve touched a blaze rod. Grian immediately swivels to face the bench, and this scribe has to note that at normal times Grian’s stare is disconcertingly like two soulless voids looking back at you, so it’s even worse when he’s attempting a poker face. Scar becomes very interested in his cat defense lawyer and doesn’t look at Grian at all.]

Grian: The thing is, you see, this marriage was a scam from the start.

EVIDENCE #1

[Dramatization by Court Scribe from participant testimony]

One month previously, a note landed in Scar’s bedroom attached to a firework rocket with a red bow and rose. This was very romantic, or at least it would have been romantic if the rocket hadn’t lodged in the rafters and set itself and a chunk of the surrounding wall on fire, but in any case it was clearly Grian making an effort, so Scar deciphered the coordinates scribbled on the charred note and set off to find out what was going on.

They pointed to a spot in the middle of nowhere. In Scar’s long experience of Grian, this meant an equal chance that they were going to make out or he was going to get inventively murdered, but this was always a gamble worth the odds.

But when he arrived, on a green hill in a quiet spot of the server, it was neither. The top of the hill had been leveled off and covered with birch wood, on which Grian was industriously spelling out something with white wool, though Scar couldn’t make out the words from his low angle of approach. Grian stopped when he spotted Scar and launched up to meet him. His wings beat so fast they were nearly vibrating.

“Scar,” Grian said, “Scar.” His grin was one of a cat who had stolen not only the cream, but the milk, the cow, and everyone else’s cows for good measure. “Scar, I’ve had an idea.”

This was clearly a planning-a-prank type of meeting, which probably meant no making out, but Grian’s pranks were not to be missed. “I’m in,” Scar said. “Do we get fancy costumes? I want a fancy costume.”

“No, Scar, that’s not the point—wait, yes, actually.” Grian angled his wings to carve tight spirals around Scar’s coasting flight, always a sign of excitement, and nudged the angle of their joint descent to land on top of the white wool scrawls. “Yes, fancy costumes are a big part of it, but that’s not—listen, this is my big gesture. Just look down.”

Scar looked down. The wool said, WILL YOU MARR.

“I ran out of wool,” Grian said. He flapped a hand. “Just because it’s a big gesture doesn’t mean it has to be finished.”

“What was it supposed to say?” Scar said innocently.

“Scar!” Grian shifted from foot to foot when he got agitated, which was always funny. “Fine! Okay! Stand there.”

The hidden trapdoor beneath their feet gave way as Grian pressed a switch. Scar yelped for form’s sake, but nothing exploded, and the only thing at the bottom of their tumbled slide was an underground bunker.

It had a table, and two chairs, and a huge corkboard on the otherwise blank walls. Grian had always had a thing for bunkers.

“This,” Grian said, with a flourish, “is the Wedding War Room.”

Scar looked around the bunker and asked the important question. “Are you going to decorate it?”

“Am I going to—no, listen, that’s not the point either. You can decorate it, if you want. The point is, you know how Bdubs and Etho got married?”

“It was beautiful,” Scar agreed immediately. “That wedding chapel? Incredible, honestly, Bdubs is a true artist. Oh! Remember the part where Etho put a river of lava through the chapel roof and glitched it into a heart?”

“Okay, but, you know what Bdubs and Etho got?

“Eternal happiness?”

“Scar.”

“No, what?”

“Bdubs and Etho got royal diamonds,” Grian said impressively. “From the vault.”

“Are they still royal diamonds if Ren’s not king anymore?” Scar said. “I thought we blew up the vault, anyway. You blew it up. I was there.”

“Do you pay any attention to anything that’s not Scarland?” Grian said. “Mumbo didn’t know what to do with the diamonds so he and Iskall built a new vault. I think Mumbo and Iskall and Impulse are the only ones who really know how to get into it. Anyway, everyone got so warm and fuzzy about Bdubs and Etho’s wedding that they all decided to open the vault up and just gave them diamonds.”

“Free diamonds?” Scar said thoughtfully.

“Free diamonds!” Grian’s eyes glittered. “Think of that vault. Stacks on stacks on stacks of diamonds. Thousands of diamonds! We could have some of those, for nothing, just by saying some words. And that’s not even mentioning the wedding presents! We’re out here spending days and days grinding resources and stocking our shops when we could be swimming in it! That could be us, Scar.” Scar had entirely forgotten the lack of interior decorations; he always did, when Grian got on a roll as mesmerizing as this.“And so,” Grian took a deep breath and held out his hand, “Scar, will you marry me?”

Scar took his hand with an enormous wave of affection. “Grian,” he said sincerely, “I have never, in my whole life, wanted to marry anyone more.”

EVIDENCE #2

Mumbo took the news more earnestly than Grian had expected.

“Oh,” said Mumbo. “Oh, haha, wow—seriously? Scar said something and I thought it was just a joke, but you guys actually… Wow!” He cleared his throat. “Grian, mate, it’s been a long time coming. I’m so happy for you.”

“Don’t get sappy,” Grian said. “It’s just a wedding. I mean,” he clarified, “it’s a very important wedding, obviously, because it’s my wedding, but I don’t need you to get sappy about it. I don’t even need you to talk about it. I just need you to bring diamonds.”

“I didn’t even know you were going to ask him,” Mumbo said, ignoring the very clear instructions Grian had just given him. “Or did he ask you, or—mate, that’s just brilliant. This is brilliant. Is it because Bdubs and Etho had that wedding? That was really beautiful, I don’t mind saying, I got a little bit teary.”

“This has nothing to do with any weddings anyone else had,” Grian said with dignity. “Our wedding will be better, but that’s unrelated. I didn’t come here to talk about that. I came here to ask you something.” He took hold of Mumbo’s hand in the most meaningful grip he could muster. “Mumbo, we’ve been friends for years, right?”

“Of course,” Mumbo said nervously.

Grian gave it a second’s pause for the sake of drama. “Mumbo Jumbo, will you be my best man?”

“Ah,” Mumbo said, which was not what Grian had expected. “Ah. Er. Might be a problem there.”

“What’s the problem?”

“Well, you see, five minutes ago, Scar…”

EVIDENCE #3

<Grian> scar

<GoodTimeWithScar> yES?

<Grian> my base.

<Grian> now.

<GoodTimeWithScar> On my way

GoodTimeWithScar hit the ground too hard

<GoodTimeWithScar> oNE MINUTE

<Grian> come in the back door

GoodTimeWithScar hit the ground too hard

<GoodTimeWithScar> Was that a trap??

<Grian> mumbo is mine

<GoodTimeWithScar> No he isn’t, Mister!

GoodTimeWithScar was slain by Ravager

Grian was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [HoTgUy]

<Grian> MUMBO IS MINE

GoodTimeWithScar was slain by Vindicator

GoodTimeWithScar was slain by Ravager

Grian was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [HoTgUy]

<Renthedog>: :o

GoodTimeWithScar burned to death

<Renthedog> Everything okay there, gentlemen?

<Grian> best man debate

GoodTimeWithScar was poked to death by a sweet berry bush

<Grian> all settled now

<Renthedog> wait

<EthosLab> Wait

<BdoubleO100> WAIT

<TangoTek> are you two…?

<Grian> invitations dropping tomorrow. wedding gift mandatory.

<GoodTimeWithScar> Come one, Come all!

<Grian> only diamonds will be considered real presents

<PearlescentMoon> huh

<impulseSV> omg finally! So happy for you guys!

<PearlescentMoon> be honest Grian, is this because Bdubs and Etho got married and you had to one-up them?

<Grian> NO IT IS NOT

EVIDENCE #4

The bachelor party negotiations were even more hard-fought than the best man.

They held the impromptu negotiations in the Wedding War Room, which was now covered with loving maps and hundreds of bits of paper that neither of them had read since putting them up there. They looked good, though, so Scar kept adding more.

There was a pile of paper strips on the table in front of them. Scar and Grian sat facing off like two negotiators at a ceasefire.

“Mumbo’s my best man,” Grian said, picking the first name off the pile without breaking eye contact and moving it to his side of the table, “so he comes to my party.” Scar gave in with a modicum of grace. The possibility of having bachelor parties at different times had been wordlessly considered and then summarily dismissed by both combatants.

Scar escalated it to a blood sport as he picked up the next bit of paper. “Pearl’s coming to my party.”

Grian yelped and grabbed Scar’s wrist. “She is not. I knew her first!”

“I know her better,” Scar countered. “Or at least,” he added, “I know her building style better.”

“You can’t just steal my friend because you like her building! That’s not how that works!”

“I think she’d enjoy it,” Scar said meditatively. “I’m going to have champagne. Glitter. Razzmatazz.”

“I will have more champagne,” Grian said mutinously. He hadn’t taken his hand off Scar’s wrist. “And more razzmatazz. You can’t have Pearl.”

“Oh, all right then,” Scar said, since Pearl was one of Grian’s oldest friends and he’d never had a chance of getting her anyway. Grian plucked the piece of paper out of his hand and put it on top of Mumbo’s paper. “I get Bdubs, though.”

That was a given. Grian didn’t seriously dispute it, though he opened his mouth to try. “I—yes, fine. You can have Bdubs.” Scar swept the piece of paper to his own side of the table.

“And that means,” Scar proceeded, with the grand momentum of a train starting to roll, “that I get Etho, as well.” He shuffled through the bits of paper and displayed Etho’s name like a magic trick.

He watched Grian calculate his chances of getting Etho if Bdubs was going to Scar’s party. “…okay, yeah, you get Etho.”

“Also that means I get Cleo,” Scar said. “She’ll come if Bdubs does. We don’t want to split up friends.” He drew Cleo’s name towards him, sliding another couple of slips underneath it at the same time. “Oh, and Joe as well, if Cleo’s coming.”

“What’s that other one?” Grian said suspiciously. He trapped Scar’s hand and pried out the third name. “What—no, you can’t have Ren.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Scar said in his most reasonable voice. “Hear me out. I have Cub, right?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Well, I have Cub, and Bdubs, and Cleo, and Joe, so, by royal decree…”

“You can’t have Ren just because the five of you were in a royal murder cult with him!”

“Excuse me, mister, that wasn’t a cult. That was the royal court!”

“It was too a cult,” said Grian, a man who had once persuaded Ren into living in camper vans in the woods with him for weeks in order to break into a military base and steal a magic box.

Ren’s name was already safely on Scar’s side of the table. “And if I have Ren, then I have to have Doc—”

“Look, Scar, if you get all of Bdubs’ current and former exes—”

“—what’s a ‘current ex’—”

“—Etho and don’t interrupt me, if you get everyone Bdubs has ever had a relationship plus their plus ones you get ninety percent of our friends.”

“Is it my fault I throw good parties?” Scar protested. “Look, you can have—”

“I’m having Impulse,” Grian interrupted, pulling his name out. “I need more redstoners.”

“What for?”

Grian waved a hand. “You just need them around.” Scar nodded, unable to find a flaw in the logic. “Also I get Joel. And Martyn. And Timmy.”

“I built Jimmy a train,” Scar objected. He put his fingertips on the other end of Jimmy’s name while Grian attempted to steal it.

“All right, this is the ‘disputed’ pile,” Grian said, pushing it to the side. “Who else?”

Now they had a disputed pile, it started filling up. “If I have Cleo,” Scar said, “then technically I should have Scott—”

“You can’t keep using that trick!”

“Then how are we going to fix it, Grian?” Scar’s tone was eminently reasonable. “I think we should just let people be friends.”

“They are friends,” Grian said. “They’re friends with me.”

“They could be friends with me.”

“Tell you what,” Grian said, a warlike gleam coming into his eyes. “We’ll ask them.”

TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 1 (CONTINUED):

Judge Bdubs: So that’s how the split started?

Cleo: You weren’t even married at that point.

Grian: Right! Exactly! We weren’t even married and Scar used underhand methods to steal my friends!

Scar: Excuse me. You went around the server threatening everyone who you didn’t think was coming to your party. Talk about underhand methods! I just offered them a good time.

Grian: Your bribed them! You bribed them to come to your bachelor party! [stabs a finger at Judge Bdubs] You even bribed him, so I don’t know why we put him in charge of this divorce.

Judge Bdubs: Nobody is allowed to question the integrity of the judge! I am as PURE AS THE DRIVEN SNOW.

Scar: That’s a good point. I gave you netherite, Bdubs, you should be ruling in my favor.

Judge Bdubs: You gave me ONE netherite ingot, I’m not giving you a ruling for that.

Scar: Grian, I think this judge is biased.

Judge Bdubs: HOW DARE YOU.

Grian: Scar is right, this judge is corrupt! I can’t believe we were forced into this farce of a trial and the judge is corrupt! Joe, I demand a new judge.

[Court Scribe JoeHills indicates that he is pretty sure this whole divorce trial was Grian’s idea in the first place, and also that judges cannot usually be replaced just like that, and the Court Scribe personally does not have a reserve list]

Judge Bdubs: I refuse to SIT HERE and be SLANDERED! You’re both guilty! [slams gavel] TAKE THEM TO THE DUNGEONS.

[Court Scribe JoeHills confirms that the petitioners have not actually been accused of anything—despite obviously having committed many crimes, Cleo would like to me to record—so cannot be found guilty, and in any case we don’t have any dungeons]

Judge Bdubs: Fine! I give up! CLEO, YOU’RE THE JUDGE NOW.

Judge Cleo: Wait, am I?

[Judge Bdubs forcibly transfers the judicial wig to Cleo, upon which the snakes in her hair make a spirited attempt to eat it.]

Scar: Can we get on with it?

Judge Cleo: Yes, you can shut up. You can all shut up! Thank you. That’s better. Are you sure you two can’t just settle it out of court so we can all go home?

Grian: No, we can’t. Me and Scar have [checks his notes] undergone an irreparable breakdown.

Scar: Sure, we might have had an eruptable breakdown, but you can’t say it was my fault. I tried to make it work. I built us a honeymoon island! It had palm trees and deckchairs and everything. I’m coming here in good faith and I deserve to be the innocent party.

Grian: I want all the diamonds Scar has.

Judge Cleo: Joe, is he allowed to ask for that?

[Court Scribe diligently references the law summary he found on the internet, suggests that at this stage the judge can grant temporary financial orders on petitioner request]

Grian: Fine, I want half of Scar’s diamonds.

Scar: I need all my diamonds for Scarland materials!

Grian: They’re not your diamonds! They’re my diamonds!

Scar: Then I get half of all your dark prismarine, thank you very much, that will be amazingly useful.

Grian: You’re not touching my dark prismarine! I’ll sell it all if you try!

Judge Cleo: Nobody is touching anyone else’s anything! Ren, stop laughing, this is a serious courtroom. Grian, you’re not allowed to sell your dark prismarine. Scar, you’re not allowed to hide any of your diamonds. Everyone is going to keep things exactly as they are until this trial is done.

Grian: Do you trust him? Look at him, look at his face, would you trust that man? Of course you wouldn’t! All the diamonds should stay in my base while we’re having the trial.

Scar: This is outrageous! This is an outrageous demand! You can’t just question a man’s honor like that!

Judge Cleo: Well, put them somewhere safe. Joe can keep them.

Grian: [grudgingly] I suppose we could put them in the Royal Vault.

Judge Cleo: You want to put your valuables in escrow?

Scar: I don’t see what birds have to do with it.

[Short pause while the concept of ‘escrow’ is explained to both petitioners]

Scar: Well, I’ll do it, but I think Grian should put all his resources in nestcrow. Seeing as it’s all his fault.

Grian: I did everything right! I was the perfect groom!

Judge Cleo: You know, Grian, somehow I have my doubts. Go back to your marriage testimony. What happened next?

EVIDENCE #5

“Ahem,” said Mumbo. “Ahem.”

Grian rolled his eyes, jumped up on a table, decided that wasn’t good enough, flew up and perched on the light fitting, and yelled, “Everyone! It’s happening! The best man is speaking!”

Silence fell.

“I was actually going to announce you,” Mumbo said. He cleared his throat. “All right! So! This… is a bachelor party!”

The bachelor party–all three of them–looked at each other.

“Woohoo!” said Iskall.

“Party time!” tried Pearl gamely.

“I was promised champagne,” said Scott, who had been lured through the portal with one bribe only.

“There will be champagne,” said Mumbo. “As best man, it is my job to plan the bachelor party, and to plan a party that is… appropriate, and thoughtful, and informed by my long friendship with Grian, so,” he coughed, “if everyone could check the boxes under their chairs for supplies, we do have an event. Sort of thing. Kind of a party game.”

“Er,” said Pearl, checking under her chair. “This is… quite a lot of...”

Iskall started to giggle.

“Seriously, I was promised champagne,” said Scott.

“Yes, yes, we’ll get to that,” Mumbo said. “First, we’re going to sneak into the other party and blow them all up.”

“...so many ender crystals…” whispered Pearl.

“Look how they sparkle!” said Iskall.

“What about the—”

“And! When they’re all dead,” said Mumbo, “we can take their champagne.”

Grian flew down from the light fitting and landed in front of Mumbo. His eyes were shining. He took Mumbo’s hands in his. “Mumbo,” he breathed. “I’ve changed my mind. Can I marry you instead?”

“Er,” said Mumbo. “No?”

“Did you even order any refreshments?” said Scott.

“Listen,” Mumbo said, “it’s Grian’s party, we were going to end up doing this anyway, and it’ll be fun.”

“Dibs on blowing up Scar!” said Grian.

“We understand, Grian,” said Pearl.

“I suppose that’s sort of romantic?” said Scott in an undertone. “You’d think he’d have more trauma about it, after all the–”

“This is going to be so funny,” Grian said, scooping up handfuls of ender crystals. “Best–best man–ever.”

EVIDENCE #6

The actual wedding was a subdued affair.

The wedding venue had just about survived, by virtue of being several hundred blocks away from either bachelor party, though the smoking craters were visible in the background. From the front, the building was a charming mansion with flowers in every window. From every other angle it might be a gray shell, but Grian was a very busy person who was getting married and he couldn’t be expected to get to everything.

On the morning of the wedding, when Grian finally pieced himself together and dragged himself back from respawn he was met by the two Best Man candidates: Mumbo, who was sitting on the step of the venue dismally trying to piece his scorched suit back together, and Cub, who was completely unruffled and appeared to be doing a crossword.

“Oh, Grian, you made it.” Mumbo abandoned his scorched hems in relief. “Some people haven’t even respawned yet. We really do need Scar, though—”

“I’m here! I’m here!” Scar, impeccably dressed in a blue morning suit, swooped in from above, trailing flowers and losing his top hat in the process. “Gosh. Nobody else made it, huh?”

“I don’t believe this,” Grian said. “None of them?”

“Weren’t you supposed to open the portal again for the Empires people?”

“I forgot,” Grian said. “But we can’t focus on that. We have to focus on the fact that at least twenty Hermits promised to come, and now they aren’t here.”

“I, um,” Mumbo said. “I take full responsibility for the original idea, but I think the seventh time you blew up Bdubs and Ren and Doc and Zedaph you did blow up all their stuff as well. And I think some people got hit so hard they won’t respawn for a week.”

“That was their fault,” Grian said. “For being in the way of my ender crystals.”

“Seven times?” Cub said.

“Oh, as if you’ve never blown up someone and all their stuff seven times and pushed their respawn into next week.”

“So, what?” Scar said. “Do we just…not have a wedding?”

Mumbo coughed. “I think you should still get married.”

“What?”

“I just think,” Mumbo gestured vaguely. “You know, your whole thing. And Jevin made you the suits and everything. It would be a shame. You could have an intimate wedding without any guests, you know. I’m just saying.”

Grian attempted to trade a skeptical look with Scar. This didn’t work, as Scar had gone faintly red and wasn’t looking at him. “An intimate wedding, you mean, right here?” Scar said. “Now? Oh, yes, of course, but you know, now I come to think about it, I don’t know I can get married.”

This smelled like weakness. “What’s wrong with marrying me?” Grian demanded. “Are you backing out?”

“No, I—I need my top hat! I can't get married without my top hat!”

“Are you scared, Scar?”

“Of course I'm not scared!” Scar said indignantly. “We’ll do it right now! Who’s marrying us? Oh—Joe’s still respawning, isn’t he? Cub, you can do it, can’t you? Cub’s an ordained priest, you know.”

“That’s right,” Cub said agreeably.

“Is he?” Grian said suspiciously. “Which religion?”

Cub’s faint smile didn’t change at all. “Don’t worry about that.”

“You don’t want to think too hard about it,” Scar said breezily. “But he’s very official! Very well-respected in the community.”

In all their planning, Grian had given no thought at all to the actual wedding. He was nearly certain that the chanting from the officiant was supposed to be pleasant and inoffensive, about, well, love and stuff, and he was also fairly sure the officiant’s eyes were not supposed to turn black as a flaming rift appeared behind him spewing an unknowable sense of dread, but at that point Scar kissed Grian thoroughly, and that lasted so long that Mumbo had to break it up after a few minutes with a polite cough, and by that time Cub had finished chanting and gone back to his crossword.

“That was very touching,” Mumbo said, apparently relieved they weren’t still kissing right in front of him. “Shame about the guests, but you can’t have everything.”

“Shocking,” Scar agreed. “Do they still have to give us presents? Maybe if we waited a week and did it again? I have to say, I could use a little more time to get the trees right on Honeymoon Island.”

“We’re not having a honeymoon, Scar, I told you,” Grian said. “This wedding is just business, and we don’t have any business without the presents.”

Mumbo was wearing the expression that Grian had always vaguely compared to an accountant breaking the bad news about something unspeakable going on in the stockmarket. “To be honest with you,” Mumbo said, “I don’t think many of them were in a present-giving mood. I think, um, you might have to write off the presents.”

“Are you telling me,” Grian said, “that this whole scheme has been a complete failure?”

TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 1 (CONTINUED):

Judge Cleo: So, let me get this straight, the plan was to scam all of us—

Scar: Scam is a strong word. More like a trade, if you think about it! A trade where we get presents and you get a warm sense of fuzziness and wellbeing.

Judge Cleo: —exactly, to scam us, and it all went wrong, and you realized the marriage was a mistake? That was weeks ago, though. What happened between that and the divorce?

EVIDENCE #7

LIST OF POST-WEDDING WRONGDOING COMMITTED BY GRIAN AND SCAR, VARIOUS (condensed from two hours of court arguments)

i. “Well, then I took some deepslate from Grian because I needed it for Scarland, which is just borrowing, if you think about it.”

ii. “Scar really owed me diamonds because it was his fault the scam didn’t work.”

iii. Lengthy descriptions of the damage from ensuing weeks-long prank war.

iv. “He should honestly have expected me to put chickens in his storage system.”

v. Evidence received from Xisuma that this lagged out the entire server.

vi. Evidence received from Grian that Scarland lags out the entire server anyway and this is probably a crime so why can’t the court do something about that.

vii. Strong representations from both sides that the other one snores and hogs the covers and this probably ought to be a crime.

TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 1 (CONTINUED):

Judge Cleo: [face down on judicial bench] Have they stopped talking yet?

Court Scribe JoeHills: No, they’re still going.

EVIDENCE #8

FURTHER LIST OF WRONGDOINGS COMMITTED BY GRIAN AND SCAR

viii. “Yes I did blow him up after that, but it’s not illegal if it’s funny.”

ix. Complicated debate about whether ensuing sabotage was funny enough not to be illegal.

x. Representations from Grian that everything is Scar’s fault with absolutely no legal backing at all.

xi. Representations from Scar, ditto, with the addition of fake law he says his cat defense attorney told him.

xii. At this point, Court Scribe JoeHills has given up attempting to make sense of the petitioners’ ongoing argument.

TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 1 (CONTINUED):

Judge Cleo: Enough! ENOUGH! No! Shut up! If I have to listen to one more attempt at utterly specious reasoning from either of you I am going to pick up this gavel and I am going to drive its handle through my own skull. This is definitely both your fault, you are terrible people, and I hope you get divorced harder than anyone has ever got divorced in history.

[Mildly stunned silence in the court]

Judge Cleo: Right. Good. I am about to quit. But before I quit, because Joe asked me nicely to come here today, I am going to order one of you to serve the other with divorce papers before tomorrow. That’s the next thing on the list: one of you has to formally divorce the other. No, I am not going to hear any more arguments, I’m done with this whole thing, you can find a new judge. Yes, Scar?

Scar: [lowers his tentatively raised hand] How do we know which one divorces the other one?

Judge Cleo: [looks blank] Well… I suppose it’s who serves their papers first?

COMPLAINT TO COURT:

Submitter of complaint: SCAR

Body of complaint: Grian wont accept divorce papers and keeps avoiding me.

COMPLAINT TO COURT:

Submitter of complaint: GRIAN

Body of complaint: scar didn’t take a single copy of the papers despite the fact i filled his bedroom with them

COMPLAINT TO COURT:

Submitter of complaint: SCAR

Body of complaint: Grian paid impulse to make a divorce paper printing redstone machine. It feels like this, should be Illegal!

COMPLAINT TO COURT:

Submitter of complaint: GRIAN

Body of complaint: scar employed my best man to make him a rival printing machine. this is sabotage.

COMPLAINT TO COURT:

Submitter of complaint: ZEDAPH

Body of complaint: Er, I know you’re doing a whole trial thingummy, but I would really like to be able to move around my base without swimming through mountains of divorce papers. Does it look like this is going to be possible any time in the near future?

COMPLAINT TO COURT:

Submitter of complaint: DOCM77

Body of complaint: WHY HAVE SEVENTY THOUSAND BADLY-PRINTED COPIES OF DIVORCE PAPERS BEEN SHOVELED INTO THE PERIMETER! I AM HOLDING ALL OF YOU PERSONALLY RESPONSIBLE! I WILL RAIN DOWN FIRE AND BLOOD!

TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 2:

Judge Mumbo: Right, so, apparently I’m supposed to be ruling on who served who with papers.

Scar: Excuse me! Objection! This new judge is clearly biased.

Grian: No, he’s not. This is all completely fine. Mumbo can be the judge now, and he can just wear a different hat when he’s being my lawyer.

Judge Mumbo: I am a bit biased, I have to admit.

Grian: No you’re not, Mumbo.

Scar: Admit it, there can’t be a fair trial for Grian under these circumstances!

Judge Mumbo: Uh—

Scar: Because I know Mumbo, and he can’t resist these…HoTgUy abs!

[Minor chaos as the court attempts to enforce a dress code]

Judge Mumbo: [removes his wig] Sorry, Grian, he’s right. Scar’s papers are accepted.

Grian: TRAITOR.

Mumbo: Scar, can I have another calendar?

TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 3:

Judge Ren: Court is called to order! Where’s—oh, there you are. Scar, you’re late.

Scar: Sorry! I was working on our honeymoon island.

Grian: What do you mean, our honeymoon island? Scar, we’re divorcing.

Scar: That doesn't mean you can just abandon a build, Grian. Some of us don't leave our backsides unfinished.

Cleo: Someone please get Ren a glass of water, I think he’s going to choke.

Judge Ren: Ahem. Now, gentlemen, I understand Scar is filing for divorce from Grian on the grounds of [checks his notes] desertion, abandonment, and unreasonable behavior.

Grian: Excuse me, what! If I’ve been unreasonable, what about him?

Scar: I have been a model of rationality and recti— rectic— ridiclitude.

Judge Ren: Indeed. I have heard Scar always finishes his backsides.

Grian: I’ll give you unreasonable behavior! This whole thing is your fault! If your bachelor party hadn’t been so badly defended I wouldn’t have been able to blow you all up.

Scar: Well, mister, if you hadn’t overthrown Ren in the first place he might have shown up to our wedding in spite of it!

Grian: If you’d been better at your job I wouldn’t have been ABLE to overthrow him!

Scar: You—you—oooh, I oughta—

Grian: [tauntingly] Ought to what?

Judge Ren: Scar, no, not in court…!

Scar: HOTGUY! [Retrieves bow from improbably small pocket and summarily murders his co-petitioner on the witness. Chaos ensues. Trial name hastily changed.]

TRANSCRIPT OF TRIAL PROCEEDINGS FOR THIRD-DEGREE MURDER, DAY 1:

Judge Ren: Listen, Scar, did you, or did you not, kill another petitioner right in front of me?

Scar: What? Oh, yeah, I just shot Grian.

Judge Ren: You can’t just—My dude, this might have been a crime of passion, but you understand this is a court and that was murder, right?

Cleo: Objection.

Judge Ren: Yes?

Cleo: We can’t start prosecuting for murder now.

[Pause as the court considers the comprehensive history of all Hermits present.]

TRANSCRIPT OF TRIAL PROCEEDINGS FOR THIRD-DEGREE MURDER, DAY 1

TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 3:

Judge Ren: [once Grian has returned from spawn] You’re going to have to come to some sort of agreement, gentlemen. It’s been days.

Grian: I think we should fight.

Judge Ren: This court does not do trial by combat. I refuse to be witness to such barbarity.

Cleo: I mean…if you think about it, it would stop them arguing.

Judge Ren: …

Judge Ren: I think I could stand to watch someone else compromise their morals. From a distance. Who wants this wig?

Judge Pearl: [settling in at the bench] Right! I think you two should fight. To the death.

Grian: LET’S FIGHT.

Judge Pearl: Riding ravagers.

Scar: What?

Judge Pearl: It would be funny.

Scar: Ravagers, though—

Grian: Don’t listen to Scar, he just murdered me. He doesn’t have a leg to stand on.

Scar: Alright! Alright, we can fight, but I’m only doing it if it’s somewhere dramatic.

Grian: …What do you mean, dramatic?

TRANSCRIPT OF DIVORCE PROCEEDINGS, DAY 3 (CONTINUED):

[The court has moved proceedings from its custom-built courthouse to a location considered ‘acceptably dramatic’ by Petitioner Scar. We are now in the dim, cavernous monolith of the Royal Vault, where the walls are sheer deepslate lit only by flickering lanterns, and mountains of diamonds and chests gleam softly in the shadowed gloom. The court is gathered here to watch the petitioners fight symbolically over their own escrowed valuables, which are piled in the middle of a stone platform built by Grian and Pearl, and see a final conclusion to this bitterly-fought split. At either end of the platform are pens with two enraged ravagers donated by Tango, salivating at the buffet of violence and blood about to—]

Judge Pearl: [leans over the edge of her observation chair] Joe! What are you doing down there scribbling?

Court Scribe JoeHills: Oh, I’m just adding narrative color.

Judge Pearl: Well, stop doing that and pay attention to the fight! We’re about to start!

Bdubs: FIGHT!

Cub: Let’s go!

Mumbo: Grian, mate, you’ve got this.

Bdubs: RUN HIM THROUGH, SCAR. TEACH HIM TO MAKE FUN OF MY WEDDING DECORATIONS.

Doc: What happens if they both die? I would like them both to die.

Judge Pearl: Contestants! Mount your steeds!

Grian: [has succeeded in landing on his ravager’s back, something Scar has not yet managed] I want you to know, Scar, that whatever happens—

Judge Pearl: Scar! You can’t just stand there, you have to TRY to ride it.

Grian: —I think we can count this as a—

Bdubs: FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!

Scar: [his head comes up to look at Grian] —a double victory?

[As if this is a code word, Grian and Scar’s gazes meet. The Court Scribe feels obliged to note that when Grian and Scar smile at the same time, history suggests something terrible is about to happen.]

Scar: Well, hello there, Mister Ravager! Would you like to get out of that pen?

Bdubs: Wait, what’s he—Scar, you ain’t supposed to break the wall that lets them at us! SABOTAGE!

Judge Pearl: GRIAN!

Grian: [shrieking as his ravager swerves into the crowd of spectators] Scar! The switch!

[Your trusty Court Scribe hurriedly dives out of the way as Scar flings himself into the pile of his and Grian’s valuables, where the tell-tale glint of redstone has been hidden under the piles of chests.]

Ren: Why do both of them have all those empty shulkers?

Cleo: Wait, wait, did we just give Grian and Scar unfettered access to all the diamonds in the vault?

Judge Pearl: WATCH OUT, THEY’VE HIDDEN TNT UNDER THE—

[Scar slams a switch. The world explodes. The Judge and most spectators are instantly blown up. The only survivors are your Court Scribe, who managed to get behind an obsidian pillar, and Cub, rising above the chaos on pre-equipped elytra wings with the philosophical serenity of someone who saw this coming.]

POSTSCRIPT

It’s a beautiful day, the sky is a clear and serene blue, and Grian and Scar have gotten away with everything.

Grian coasts joyfully ahead of Scar on outstretched wings, loaded down with boxes and boxes of ill-gotten diamonds, looping head-over-heels only when he can’t contain the energy bubbling through him. “We are the greatest, Scar. We are geniuses. We are the greatest geniuses who ever lived.”

“Oh, we are,” Scar agrees instantly. A lesser person might have pointed out their first plan failed spectacularly and their hasty second one only succeeded by luck, but this is why Grian married Scar specifically. Only he’s not married to Scar any more, is he? For one shining moment Grian had forgotten that.

The crater of the Royal Vault is far below and receding, the debris scattered like little jeweled toys. Grian is recalled to the present gleeful moment in which they are geniuses who have pulled the whole thing off and are richer than every other hermit put together. “Where are we going?”

“I was following you,” Scar says.

“I didn’t think this far ahead! I only planned up to the part where we stole everyone’s diamonds!”

“Oh, well, that’s easy,” Scar says confidently. “Change course to Honeymoon Island!”

Grian doesn’t have a good argument against that, and anyway, he’s too happy and diamond-dazzled to argue. Scar strikes out to the azure ocean and Grian dips into his wake and soars behind.

Scar has outdone himself, as usual. Honeymoon Island is just one long crescent-shaped beach with crystal seas, golden sands, palm trees, deck chairs, and—somehow—little iced coconut drinks that keep reappearing and each have a little paper umbrella. Naturally, Scar hasn’t thought of including a safe room for all their new valuables, so Grian has to dig out a makeshift bunker for all their ill-gotten gains, but when all that excitement is done, Grian throws himself onto a deckchair with a coconut drink and closes his eyes.

“So?” Scar says, in the expectant tone of someone who has spent three weeks fiddling with the palm trees that are currently casting an exquisitely-latticed shade over Grian’s eyelids, despite the fact they were technically divorcing all that time. “What do you think?”

“It is very pretty,” Grian admits grudgingly. “We can’t use it for a honeymoon, though. We’re divorced.”

“Are we divorced?” Scar is thoughtfully making origami out of his paper umbrella. “We did ditch them all before the trial officially finished.”

“Oh, we’re absolutely divorced. Super divorced.”

“I suppose you’re right. No honeymoon for us, then?”

An idyllic silence falls over the palm-fringed beach. The sea laps at the shining sands, creating a soft music from the shells and pebbles. The leaves rustle. This coconut drink in Grian’s hand is surprisingly good.

“Scar—”

“Hey, Grian—”

There is a pause.

“Go on,” Grian says impatiently.

“No, no, I think you should ask.”

“I asked last time!” This is ridiculous. It’s a shame Grian has been enchanted by the ridiculous for years now. “We’re probably not even talking about the same—”

Scar interrupts, which is rude, but unfortunately he’s picked his most golden and unfair voice, like the sea caressing the sand, and Grian is momentarily helpless. “Will you, Grian,” Scar says, “do me the great honor of marrying me? Again?”

Grian throws a paper umbrella at him. “Scar,” he says, “I thought you’d never ask.”

#fic #long post #grian #goodtimeswithscar #scarian #hermitshipping #bdoubleo100 #zombiecleo #joehills

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nereidprinc3ss · 7 months ago

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come on home

in which the only person who can comfort you after your breakup with spencer reid, is spencer reid

inspired by the song "summer's end" by the artist currently known as phoebe bridgers

wc 2857

warnings: gn!reader (correct me if im wrong), minor mommy issues, angst, happy ending

a/n: thank you to the person who requested this:) u r an angel and I listened to this song the whole time i wrote (if you haven't heard, listen!!) i sincerely hope you enjoy, i like this one a lot<3

She hung up on you.

Forty-seven minutes of being insulted and berated after you’d called her looking for comfort, and you put up with every single cruel word—just for your mother to hang up on you. And it’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do, so you shouldn’t be surprised. An ache, you’d expect—but it shouldn’t sting like this. You thought you knew better.

Now you’re in a ball on your couch, clutching your phone to your chest and crying. There’s no point hiding it. Your roommate is out with her girlfriend for the evening—which is too bad because even though you feel like being alone, you’re sure that’s the wrong call. Your other friends are out having fun tonight, too. They’d even invited you, but you turned them down. Look where that had gotten you. Obviously, your mother is not the person you’re about to run to for comfort, either.

You try to pretend, while you’re thinking of all these people who have ever cared for you, that Spencer Reid isn’t on your mind at all. You try to pretend like you don’t care that the person who loved you until you believed you actually deserved it is a contact going stale deep in the bowels of your text cache. With bleary eyes you scroll down, looking for your conversation where it gathers dust—the end of your relationship was a mutual decision, and you’re friendly, but you haven’t texted in a few weeks. Probably because every time the conversation starts to feel a little too easy, or the phone call lasts a little too long, that aching void in your chest gets worse and worse. Like pain in a phantom limb, you become acutely aware of what you do not have and how much it hurts.

So blame it on the tears, or the mind-muddling melodrama of your relationship with your mother, blame it on anything but the truth—when your thumb drops on that call button like the plunger on a syringe, you don’t regret it.

What you’re not expecting is for him to answer after the first ring.

“Hi,” you say with a snuffle before Spencer can get a word in. There’s a brief interlude, in which you pick at your nails, comfortable to just sit in silence if that’s what he wants. As long as he’s there.

“Hi.” Hearing his voice instantly melts a bit of the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. Another pause, for which you remain silent, because you can feel him formulating a question—and you’d like to hear him speak again. “...am I allowed to ask if you’re okay?”

Your lips purse and twist to the side, pained and comforted by how easily he can tell that you’re distraught. One word across a tinny connection, and he knows.

“No. Yes. I mean... I guess that’s why I called you. But you don’t have to ask me about it.” You sniff again and take a deep breath. “How was your day? What state are you in?”

“I’m in the district,” he answers after a moment, easing into a casualness that he likely doesn’t feel for your sake. Wind crunches through the speaker. He probably just got out of work. “My day was... it was good. I got to talk about my job to a bunch of elementary schoolers, which is always a confidence boost.”

You chuckle, still laying on your side on the couch and watching storm clouds gathering outside.

“Nice, nice. What else?”

“Let’s see... I forgot lunch, so I had three oranges, and they were actually pretty good. I reread Game of Thrones—I don’t know why I did that. I’m never going to like that book.”

“Masochist,” you smile. He laughs, and you hear the sound of a car door opening.

“Oh! I talked to my mom. Believe it or not, she says hi.”

A completely inadvertent snort constitutes your response. It’s not what you meant to do, and out of context it’s sort of mean, but you actually think it’s incredibly endearing that he still talks to his mother about you. He scrambles to explain himself.

“I swear, we barely talked about you this time. Mostly we talked about her new boyfriend Leonard.”

“No, no, that’s not... I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you or your mom. That’s really sweet, actually. Tell her I say hi too.”

When he next speaks, you can hear the smile in his voice.

“I will.” Another long pause. You imagine him sitting in the parking lot at Quantico, keys vertical in the ignition of his old car and feeling the silence just as much as you are. He surprises you by not ending the conversation—instead he asks a question. It is concern, poorly disguised with nervous humor. Or maybe you just know him too well. “Do I get to find out what’s on your mind, or are you leaving me in suspense here?”

You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Um... well, actually, I just got off the phone with my mom, too. It didn’t go so well,” you laugh halfheartedly, “I know it was dumb to try and have an actual conversation with her, but... you know me. Always following blind optimism to the depths of hell.”

“Why’d you call your mom?” he asks, so gently it brings a fresh round of tears to your eyes. Still, you attempt to put a cheerful affect on your strained voice.

“Mm, you know. Just needed someone to talk to.”

Spencer’s knowing sigh does little to make you feel better.

“You know you can always talk to me, right? I know it’s... it’s different now, but... I care about you a lot. And, you know, I receive very few phone calls, so the line is pretty much always open.”

Your laugh quickly devolves into a cry.

“I appreciate that, but I can’t talk to you about everything.”

“Why not?” he pleads immediately, voice thin and desperate like it’s his most burning question. A million lies dance over the tip of your tongue. A million things that feel safer to say than the truth. But in the end, it comes out anyway—choked, and so quiet, but aloud nonetheless.

“Because I’m trying really hard to stop missing you so much.”

Another long beat of silence. The back of your throat feels dry and hollow—a cage for your hummingbird heart.

“If it hurts too much to talk to me, you don’t need to do that to yourself. But I also don’t want you to hurt yourself thinking you’re alone. You are... so important to me. I will always try to take care of you the best I can—whether that means staying away or being at your front door. If you ever need me, or even... vaguely want me, I will be there.”

Each word caves your resolve. Each syllable is a slap in the face to progress you’d been pretending to make. You can be strong—you've proven that over the past ten weeks. You can be stone-faced and slash at your heart until the scar tissue is thick and jagged, and eventually it won’t hurt anymore. But maybe, by letting someone tend to the wounds, they’ll heal a little nicer. A little kinder. Even if you can’t undo the damage, maybe one day you’ll be soft again.

“What if I vaguely want you right now?” you sniffle.

Finally, you hear the silver jingle of keys turning. The sputter and rumble of an old engine coming to life.

“Then I’m on my way.”

Twenty four minutes later, there’s a soft knock at your door.

After the call had ended, you’d wondered if you made it all up. Surely your ex-boyfriend wasn’t actually about to show up at your apartment. Someone you’ve grieved for can’t just come back—there are countless horror novels and movies based upon that very tenet. Does it matter if they ever actually died? How long is ten weeks, really? It feels like a lifetime.

You shuffle across the room, wiping under your eyes with your already damp sleeves, and undoing all the locks Spencer had conditioned you to start using. When the door cracks open, and you see Spencer standing there, windswept and concerned, for the first time in months, it hits you like a tidal wave. You are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, still just as in love with him as you ever were. The relief that floods your veins as he looks down at you with so much care in his eyes is like sinking into warm water. It’s a dead giveaway, and maybe it makes this whole thing a terrible idea, but you can’t seem to care very much. You open the door wider, and he enters, and he stands in your kitchen with his hands in his coat pocket as you shut the door and he’s perfect. It dawns on you that for the first time since the breakup, you feel safe. Like you don’t have to be a stone pillar anymore. This, of course, translates into even more tears, which you try to hide as you face away, re-locking the door.

“Sweetheart...” he sighs, because you can’t hide anything from him. Hearing the resonance of his voice so close to you once more is overwhelming. In an instant you’re rushing into his arms, and he accepts you without hesitation. You bury your teary face in the vetiver safety of his button-up and slip your arms under his coat, as if you could absorb his warmth and forever hide from the world that way. He pulls you even closer. It’s terrible and cruel how much he is exactly what you needed. “What’s wrong? What did she say?”

You shake your head and gasp a small sob.

Truthfully, you’re not really crying about the petty insults from your mother anymore. You’re back to square one, the reason you’d called your mother to begin with—you miss the man whose arms are currently wound around your shoulders.

His hand smooths over the back of your hair.

“Okay. That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.”

You stay like that—content even as you cry because being with him feels so much safer than being alone. It feels right—or perhaps it’s just familiar. You don’t know which is worse.

Spencer is rubbing soothing lines up and down your back as you cling to him, soaking him up in all his ephemeral, comforting glory. He surprises you by chuckling—it vibrates through his chest, buzzing against your ear.

“Nice Magritte print. I bet the person who bought that has fantastic taste.”

“Are you gonna ask for it back?” you mumble into the fabric of his suit jacket. He is, of course, referring to the painting you’d more or less stolen from his apartment seven months ago. You really don’t want him to take it home. It’s the most overt Spencer memorabilia you’d allowed yourself to keep in plain sight.

“No, baby. You can keep it.” The words are low, and kind, and they settle you some, but you can’t seem to get him close enough. “What can I do?” he whispers after a moment, helpless as you take a shuddering breath. “Can I make you tea? Have you eaten?”

“Will you just... stay for a little bit? I’ll—I promise I’ll stop crying.”

There is an unexpected lull where you thought you’d receive pretty immediate agreement, but before you can pull back and ask what’s wrong, he murmurs, “yeah. I can stay for a while. But you have to kick me out before it gets too late.”

You wonder if you’re imagining the double-entendre that seems to underline his words in bold red ink. Spencer is too smart to have not noticed a thing like that. You don’t mention it—it all boils down to the same unspoken idea.

Don’t let me stay, because I might not leave.

“I will,” you sniff, finally stepping back and wiping your own tears. It hurts to lose his touch, but at least you know he’s not going anywhere for the next few hours. This, as opposed to everything else lately, can be a beginning instead of an end.

At least, until he goes home.

Three and a half hours later, after tea, an impromptu dinner comprised mostly of cheese and crackers, and several vinyl changes on your record player (which served only as background noise for your long, ambling conversations), things are seeming to wind down to a natural stopping point. Which you hate. The whole time you’d had a dull ache in your chest because talking to him was easier than breathing and you knew it wouldn’t last. There had been one or two false bottoms already—the first when you’d yawned around nine, and the second when you’d gotten up to do your skincare and brush your teeth half an hour later. Even then he’d just leaned against the doorframe, watching your reflection above the sink as you talked for fifteen more minutes. Now you stand across from each other in the kitchen, plates restacked and everything in order. Of course he’d insisted on helping you clean up.

“I should go,” he says, with a soft sort of finality in his voice.

“Is your carriage turning into a pumpkin?” you tease gently, to hide how much you don’t want him to leave. He smiles—a small, weary thing—but genuinely and endlessly charmed by you.

“That among other things.”

“Would you—would you walk me to my room first?”

The hesitance is clear in his eyes and the way his lips part as if to say, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea’, but you're sure he’s really going to leave in a moment and you’re also sure he won’t deny you this one small thing before he does.

“Okay.”

It’s a short, silent walk through the living room and down the hall to your bedroom door, but you can feel him trailing behind you the whole way. You stop in front of your open door, turning face to face with him.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

His lips pull into a melancholy smile.

“Anytime.”

There’s nothing left to do but wrap your arms around each other once more, tuck yourself into the you-sized space between his head and shoulder and hold on for as long as he’ll let you. The hug lingers for longer than is wise. Spencer adjusts his arms looped around your waist, pulling you closer, and you nuzzle against his neck, grateful that at least he seems as reluctant to let this end as you are.

But eventually, it relaxes. Your hold on each other loosens. His face is just inches from yours, and you get to study every plane and valley and line like you’d thought you never would again. It seems he’s doing the same—losing himself in the luxury of seeing you up close.

“Will you kiss me goodnight?” you whisper, unable to muster any self-consciousness though you know it’s a fool’s errand. Spencer strokes your waist.

“I can’t do that, honey.”

“Why not?”

His voice is just as quiet as yours. It falters slightly as he speaks, so gently, so patiently.

“Because we’re not together anymore.”

“Why not?”

Your feeble, desperate supplication sounds pitiable even to you. You’re not proud, but you can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, either. All you want is an answer. But it’s like a child asking why the sky is blue, or the earth is round. There is a definitive explanation, but mostly, the adult will shrug, and say, that’s just how it is.

Spencer’s eyes squeeze shut. His head tilts down.

“We can’t do this again, sweetheart. You know why we’re not together.”

In theory—yes. You’d had so many conversations when you’d broken up. It had been a long, painful process, spanning multiple all-nighters at his kitchen table, nursing coffee and trying to convince each other and yourselves that it was the right choice. But it just feels like a horrible, horrible mistake. You feel desperate to explain this to him before he slips away again—the words come out flustered, inelegant as you cling to him.

“But I don’t think I’m getting better without you. I tried, I tried so hard to be good on my own, but everything is worse and harder and—and we weren’t sure about it then, and I don’t think it was the right choice, because I still really need you. Like, all the time. I’m—it’s not getting better without you. Nothing got better.”

He swallows, eyes darting between yours for an infinite second. You’re breathless and your heart is pounding after your confession—you can feel your eyes stinging with the few tears that managed to escape as you spoke.

“Everything is worse,” he agrees shakily. “Everything. I’m—I’m getting disciplinary infractions from Hotch like I’m a child because I can’t focus on anything. Game of Thrones is the most complex literature I can comprehend right now. I had to use a calculator the other day.”

You want to laugh, but nothing is funny until he’s yours again.

“Then come back. Please come back, Spencer.”

Finally, he leans closer, until your heads are pressed together, and his nose bumps yours, feather light. You're dizzy. You exhale. He inhales.

“I don’t think I knew how to leave in the first place.”

When he kisses you, it feels like home.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds

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sitepathos · 1 month ago

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From Gold to Mold

Chapter 4: The Deal (Warning: this chapter will feature violence. Read at your own risk)

A/N: had free time this week to produce this. Next week is chock full of tests and midterms, so this’ll probably be the last chapter for some time. Enjoy! Also, I’m sorry to those who asked to be added to the tag list and weren’t. I tried to add many of you, but Tumblr wasn’t able to find your blog for whatever reason.

When you open your eyes, darkness goes on forever in all directions, the only thing you can see is yourself. Where are you and how did you get here?

“Hello,” you call out, hoping someone is nearby to hear you, not caring who hears you just as long as someone comes to you. “Is there anyone here?”

Nothing, which you expected, but you had hoped against reality that someone was here… wherever here is. The cold air surges through your body and you shiver, your teeth chattering, echoing in the void.

“What happened,” you ask yourself. “How’d I get here?”

Just then, your memory kicks in and images and words assault your mind all at once: walking through the East End, the three thugs, the dirty shack in the middle of the woods you had been dragged to, and—

“Oh my god,” you say as the final memory flashes before your eyes. “They killed me.”

That’s right, the flash of the muzzle and the sound of the gunshot still rattling in your head. And if you think hard enough, you can vaguely remember falling to the floor after the bullet entered your head.

“Wait,” you say, realizing something very important. “If they shot me, then why am I here?”

Sure, you aren’t religious (all beliefs in a just and loving god died after you lost your Momma and was forced to live in an abusive and neglectful household for thirteen years), but this dark and neverending void is a far cry from the bright and golden imagery that’s always been associated with heaven. And this sure isn’t the fire and brimstone that comes to mind when you think of hell. So, is this purgatory? Or limbo? You never could keep the two straight.

Is this your fate? To spend the rest of your afterlife alone in this abyss? Why couldn’t you just cease altogether? Was it too much to ask that you just close your eyes and never wake from your eternal slumber?

You realize you’re crying and you’re amazed that after crying so much throughout your life, you still have plenty of tears to shed, even in the afterlife. But that’s been your lot in life since you lost Momma: to be the world’s punching bag.

“Such powerful emotions,” a familiar voice says.

You look up in shock and see your Momma, looking exactly the same as the day she was taken from you.

“Momma,” you exclaim, rushing to her and embracing her, squeezing her as hard as your arms will allow, afraid that if you let go, she’ll disappear.

“This form brings out such joy, sadness, and loss in you,” she says. “Feelings from someone alive are far more vibrant than from someone deceased.”

“What,” you asks, looking up at her in confusion, but when you do, it’s not your Momma you see looking down at you, but Bruce. You let go of the man as quick as you can and put a bit of distance between the two of you.

“What did you do to my Momma, you son of a bitch,” you shout in disgust.

“This form brings out such anger, pain, and hatred in you,” Bruce says, looking you up and down as if dissecting you like a damn lab experiment. “How interesting.”

“What the hell are you talking about? How’d you get here and what did you do to Momma?”

“And it’s not just this form.” You see movement all around you and in perfect unison, the other members of the Wayne Family appear from the void. “You hold these forms in equal amounts of hatred and contempt.”

“You deem this one a failure,” Bruce says.

“This one a hypocrite,” Dick says.

“This one a brute,” Jason says.

“This one a know-it-all,” Tim says.

“This one a stranger,” Barbara says.

“This one annoying,” Stephanie says, before turning to Cassandra. “And while you’ve never heard that one speak, you deem her a freak.”

“And you deem this one a monster,” Damian says. He gestures to Bruce. “You hate this form and that one in equal measure, far surpassing the others.”

You see another figure step out of the void and when you make out the face, it’s Alfred. You feel relief surge through your body, happy to see the butler; if there’s anyone who you can depend on, it’s him.

“While this one serves the others, you hold great respect for this form,” Alfred says. “Although, you hold a not insignificant amount of resentment towards him.”

Your heart skips a little at the accusation. No, you love the man, who took the place of a father when Bruce failed to fill the void left by your Momma’s death; sure, you’ve had the occasional thought that if the man was given a choice between you and them, he’d choose them over you since he’s always helping them, but he’s always been there for you since day one!

“No,” you say, pleading with the man. “Alfred, I don’t!”

“But you do,” the butler responds. “According to you, he is the true master of your prison, but instead of using his power to make them acknowledge your existence, he allows them to continue parading through Gotham, fighting criminals.”

“You also believe all these forms belong in Arkham,” Bruce adds. “And that you wish to be the one to subject them to electroshock therapy.”

You finally realize that something’s wrong here. All of them have never been in your presence long enough for you to say how you feel about them (not that they’d care, anyway) and you’ve never told Alfred how you often daydream of locking them away in Gotham, strapping them to metal chairs, and flipping the switch to send hundreds of volts through their skulls, hoping to shock them into being decent human beings. All this has been kept in your head for well over a decade.

So, how the hell did they know all this?

“You’re not them, are you?”

“No,” Not-Bruce answers. “We only took the forms of those you see before you.”

“Then who the fuck are you,” you growl. “And where the fuck am I?”

“We have no name,” Not-Alfred says.

“We are one, and yet we are many,” Not-Damian finishes.

“It is impossible to define a being such as us,” Not-Jason chimes in.

“Alright, that doesn’t answer my question,” you mutter to yourself, but say it loud enough for them to hear. “Then answer me this: where am I? The last thing I remember was being shot by three thugs.”

“Yes, we know of your attack,” Not-Stephanie says.

“As for your question, we are appearing to you in your mind,” Not-Bruce says.

“My mind,” you exclaim. “How?”

“When you appeared to us, we reached out and established a link with you,” Not-Tim explains. “It is from there that we were able to peer into your mind and see your memories.”

“My memories,” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Yes,” Not-Damian responds. “Through your memories, we saw these forms and assumed them. We thought it would be more preferable for you to speak to us if we took the appearance of the people who have the most influence on your life.”

“If you looked through my memories, then you should know I want nothing to do with any of them,” you snap at them.

“We know now that we were in error,” Not-Bruce responds, a ghost of a smile gracing his face. “We owe you many thanks. Never before have we been put into a situation where have known the sensation of being incorrect. We will ponder this experience for years to come.”

“So, what do you really look like.”

All of them look at one another, unsure how to answer your question.

“We are not sure if you wish to see our true form,” Not-Alfred responds.

“While you are the first sentient being we’ve interacted with in our entire existence, we know that our true form is something many of your kind would consider… terrifying,” Not-Stephanie adds.

“I don’t care,” you snap. “I’m not talking to any of you while you look like this and I sure as hell don’t want you taking Momma’s form! And if we’re going to talk, we’re gonna do it face to face!”

“Very well,” Not-Bruce acquiesces.

And with that, everything fades to black and for a moment, you’re scared you’ll be left here in the dark by yourself again. Maybe you should’ve let them stay like that.

Just then, above you, you see an odd red glow. You look up and you feel your blood freeze, your heart stop, and the air catches in your lungs. Above you is a giant mass of red, bioluminescent flesh hanging from a cave ceiling, thick black tendrils extruding from it and digging deep into the surrounding rock, allowing it to remain suspended in the cavern. And if that didn’t freak you out enough, you can see the flesh obviously resembles the shape of a fetus in the fetal position. This thing looks like something out of an H.P. Lovecraft novel.

“Holy shit,” is all you can say.

“We told you you would not approve of our true form,” it says, its voice beaming directly into your mind.

“What are you,” you ask, still awestruck at the sight before you.

“We are have no name,” it responds. “But, with the knowledge we have accumulated over the centuries, we suppose you can call us the Megamycete.”

“Megamycete?”

“Yes, we are a supercolony of sentient fungus that has existed for over four-hundred years.”

“Four-hundred years? That’s as long as Gotham’s been around.”

“We have existed as the city above. When its founders first arrived, we were nothing more than a collection of small, independent and unaware colonies of mold. Not long after the first buildings were built, an earthquake shook the area and revealed something we now know as a ‘Lazarus Pit,’ a pool of green, luminescent liquid that possesses remarkable restorative properties, and the colonies that would become us were plunged into it.”

“And this pit made you the way that you are?”

“The pit made us aware, but it did not give us our intelligence. With our enhanced capabilities, we were able to spread out our roots beyond the mountain. Not long after, we discovered the corpses of the first of Gotham’s citizens, buried after they drew their last breath; when our roots came into contact with their bodies, we found we had the ability to archive the knowledge, memories, and even DNA of the deceased. We became obsessed with growing our archive, so as Gotham grew over the years, so did our roots; overtime, we archived hundreds of its deceased, increasing our intelligence and knowledge of the outside world. Now, our roots touch every part of this city, becoming one with it, not only archiving the remains of its living, but seeing and hearing everything that goes on within its boundaries.”

“So,” you say, your mouth becoming dry at your newfound knowledge. “You’re like some fungal god?”

“While we know many of your kind may consider a being such as us god, we hold no illusion of being a divine entity. We think of ourselves as an immortal observer.”

As you attempt to process this information, your mind brings something to your attention and you feel your heart stop when you realize it. You really don’t want to know the answer, but there’s that damn stubborn part of you that has… no, it needs to know.

“So,” you begin, trying to summon the courage to ask your question. “Earlier, you said all of this is going on in my head, right?”

“Yes, our roots were able to establish a link with you and allow us to convene with you in your mind.”

“So, if we’re in my head right now, where’s me? I mean, my body?”

Although the Megamycete doesn’t have eyes, nor does it turn anything that resembles a head, you can feel it shift its awareness to the side, as if looking at something. You feel yourself break into a cold sweat as you slowly turn your head to the left, wondering what exactly you’re going to find.

And when you do, your greeted by a sight that makes you feel as if the world around you had crumbled away and you’ve been left behind to float in the void left behind: you, lying in a mess of tendrils composed of mold, broken, battered, and bloody; your limbs lying in directions they’re definitely not supposed to be in, your eyes glazed over, and a gaping bullet hole in your left temple.

“Oh my god,” you shout, utterly horrified at the sight before you. “Oh my god!”

“We saw the torture those three criminals subjected you to. Their leader was quite thorough in inflicting damage.”

“So that’s it, huh?” While this is all just some projection in your head, you feel like you’re hyperventilating. “This is how it ends: being eaten by some sentient mushroom and becoming a part of it? Doomed to spend the rest of eternity tethered to this damn city? I survive in a place where you’re likely to be killed by some trigger-happy murder clown and his psycho-ass whore while getting your mail and some two-bit thug is what does me in?”

“If you look closer, you will find that you are still alive.”

You practically snap your head to look back at your body and sure enough, you can see your chest moving up and down. It may not be much, but it’s there.

“I’m alive,” you ask, shocked at the sight of you breathing.

“You still live,” it answers back. “Your life force is low, but still there.”

“But how? He shot me in the head and then threw me down here! People don’t live after something like that!”

“While a gunshot to the head is normally fatal, our archive shows us two revelations: that the bullet did not go through your brain, but graze it and that the bullet used was of a lower caliber. While the wound was grievous, you still had a chance of surviving it. As for the fall into our chamber, your body was caught onto our roots as it fell, slowing it down and allowing it to land with diminished force.”

“But I’m still going to die, right?”

“Yes,” it answers, seemingly sympathetic. “If you were in a proper hospital, you could recover, but right now, your body is slowly shutting down. By the time anyone found you, you would long be deceased.”

So, you survive attempted murder, but you’ll still die in the end.

“Fuck,” you mutter. “Wasn’t the end I had in mind.”

“What did you have in mind for your death,” the Megamycete asks.

“Shouldn’t you know what i had in mind for my death?”

“We do, but our knowledge shows us talking to the dying brings a form of comfort to them. Plus, this is the first time we have had the chance to interact with a living mortal. We wish to prolong the experience as much as possible.”

You chuckle at that. “I thought I would spend my final days back home in Goodsprings, sitting in the big recliner Momma bought for me. I use to spend Saturday mornings in it, eating cereal and watching cartoons.” You smile at the memory of the chair. “It was a damn good chair.”

“We see it, a brown cushioned seat, perfect for watching television or reading books.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Would’ve been perfect to spend my last days in.”

“Perhaps you still can.”

You look up at the Megamycete. “What?”

“We offer you a deal: we will repair your body and give you the strength to leave this chamber and rejoin the outside world.”

“And you’ll get what?”

“You become our host.”

“What,” you balk. “Host?”

“Yes, we will entangle ourselves with your very being, becoming as one.”

“And why the hell would I agree to that,” you exclaim. “You fix my body just to take it over? No deal!”

“You misunderstand. We will not override your control over your body. We will be nothing more than a spectator in your life, seeing but being powerless to intervene. In addition to being restored to your former glory, you will gain access not only to our vast archive of knowledge, but gain abilities many of your kind would consider supernatural.”

That certainly cools your temper. “So, you fix me up and give me superpowers, but all you get in return is front row seats to my life. Sounds like I’m the only one benefitting from this deal.”

“On the contrary, we stand to gain just as much as you do. For over four-hundred years, we could see the outside world, but not join it. With each new corpse we archived, we began to desire a way to interact with the world firsthand and not by mere memories. You are our solution to this dilemma. Through you, we will know what it means to feel the sun on our face, or to taste the finest meals, or to hear a symphony.”

The Megamycete’s words shock you to your core. You guess if you were stuck in this cavern for four centuries and only knew of a world beyond it through memories, you’d do anything to experience it, too.

“Please, Y/N, we beg you to accept our deal. We promise everything we are, from our archive to our longevity, will be at your disposal. You will be stronger, smarter, and better than those who thought less of you. In comparison to you, they will be nothing more than mere ants.”

You’ve thought about showing the Waynes up for years, to be able to pay Jason back for that black eye, to make Tim feel like a complete idiot, and especially to make Damian feel inferior in every way possible.

“We can do that for you. With us at your side, you’ll attain a level of perfection they could never dream of. All we want is to be able to witness this firsthand.”

“Alright,” you relent. “If all you want is to go outside in exchange for making me better than them, you have a deal.”

“We thank you, Y/N,” it says, sounding incredibly happy. Relieved, even.

And with that, your world fades to black once again and when you open your eyes, you find that you’re back in your body, feelings of pain overwhelming your senses, making it hard to concentrate on the Megamycete pressing its tendrils into you. You watch in total awe as the giant, fetus-like mass that is the Megamycete begin to shrink and when you look down where the tendrils are embedded in your skin, you can see a black substance being injected into under your skin. The more of the substance being pumped into your body, the smaller the Megamycete gets.

That’s when you feel weird all over, like every cell in your body is transforming into something else. While not painful, per se, it’s an incredibly odd sensation.

(Your body is becoming one with our mold,) you hear the Megamycete explain in your head. (Not only will it repair the damage that was done to you, you will find that you are far more durable than any mere mortal and have the ability to change your form into any that is stored in our archive, both man or beast.)

“Wait, you’re saying I can shapeshift?”

(If that is what you wish to call our mimetic abilities, then yes, you may “shapeshift.”)

When the last of the mold was transferred to you, you find your body stitching itself up and the incredible pain you were in fading fast, like it was never there. You see a puddle of water lying nearby and when you look in it, you see that all your injuries are gone, even the scar on your left check that Damian gave you three years ago. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it never happened at all.

And not only do you look better, you feel better! You wouldn’t say you were the healthiest person ever, but you tried to stay somewhere in between active and sedentary; sure you weren’t going to be running any marathons, but you were able to climb the many stairwells at school when the elevator took too long. Now, however, you felt like you could run and win a marathon, or climb up a mountain without climbing gear, or swim the English Channel during a hurricane! And you didn’t feel better physically, but intellectually as well! Gotham, for all it many flaws, has attracted the best artists, architects, doctors, engineers, musicians, scientists, and more; you feel your mind being rushed with the knowledge and memories of countless people throughout the ages, ranging from the city’s early days to now. Hell, you even have access to the memories and knowledge of some of Bruce’s greatest employees, giving you knowledge on much on Wayne Enterprises’ tech and projects that he’s spared no expense in keeping under wraps. Maybe you can get a pretty penny from Lex Corp in exchange for this information since everyone knows Bruce and Lex are bitter rivals and are constantly trying to one-up each other, with Bruce, unfortunately, often being the winner in their battles to develop the next technological development.

“I feel like I could run circles around Einstein,” you laugh, completely blown away with your newfound intellect. Right now, you feel like you could write a symphony that would make Beethoven feel inadequate while at the same time painting a masterpiece that would eclipse the Mona Lisa and designing a fusion reactor capable of powering the entire country. You look around the cavern, looking and not seeing a way out. “Now how do I get out of here?”

(There is a passage directly above you.) You look up to see a big hole in the chamber’s ceiling. (That is how you ended up here when those three threw you in here. Our archives have absorbed many of Gotham’s birds. Any one of them should give you the power to fly out of the chamber.)

The mention of the three thugs remind you of your stolen pen and Game Boy, which then fills you with rage. You’ve never liked thieves and the thought of your Momma’s treasured pen and your gift from your thoughtful boss in the hands of such lowlifes gives you even more of a reason to hate them. By now, they could be anywhere, maybe even outside of the city for fear of your disappearance being reported (mostly by Alfred, the only person left in Gotham who would give a damn).

(Remember our roots span all of Gotham,) the Megamycete says. (Through them, we have seen and heard all that occurs in this city. As our host, you now have access to them. All you have to do is reach out and think of who you wish to find.)

Following its advice, you reach out and feel the roots that entangle Gotham like a spider web. As soon as you do, you’re overwhelmed with sights and sounds from every corner of the city.

(Focus on the three,) it advises you. (If you concentrate on who exactly you want, the roots will do the rest.)

It takes some doing, but you manage to push aside the multitude of people that are in your mind’s eye and focus on the three kidnappers. You’re taken across the city, rushing past the many buildings and stopping at some seedy building in Coventry. Your newfound knowledge of Gotham tells you this is the My Alibi bar, a place for Gotham’s criminals to get together to eat, trade gossip, and find work.

With your destination known, you search through the Megamycete’s archives and something to get you out of here and find something that should do the job: crows. Your body manifests into a murder of crows and takes off in perfect unison, keeping in formation. It’s extremely weird to be a bunch of birds; you know that what was once your body is now numerous birds, but while you’re multiple birds, you’re still one person. You can see through all their eyes all at once and change their flight path and they actually do it like it’s nothing. In a matter of seconds, you’re on the surface, flying above the forest and looking down at the twinkling lights of Gotham’s buildings.

“You know, from above, that cesspit actually looks kinda pretty.”

(We thank you, Y/N. We never thought we would be able to experience such a sight firsthand, but here we are. Now, shall we retrieve your stolen property?)

The crows fly through the city, zipping past the buildings and as you do, you realize that you’ve just fulfilled a dream you’ve had since you were ten-years-old: to fly like a bird. When you realized that the Waynes were awful and all you wanted was to go back to Goodsprings— to take flight like a bird and leave this city and the Waynes behind. Now, you can turn into a flock of birds, or even grow a pair of wings, and fly all the way to Nevada!

Eventually, you reach the My Alibi club, which looks even worse in person than through the Megamycete’s roots. You land on a nearby building’s rooftop and see the only security for the entire building is a single bouncer. You command the birds to land near the bouncer and when they do, they come together and reform your body, but instead of revealing you, you command hardened black mold to cover your body, not wanting your face to be seen by anyone.

What’s going to happen here needs to not get back to you.

“What,” the bouncer stutters. “What the hell?”

“Leave,” is all you say.

The bouncer says nothing before he runs away.

(Are you ready,) the Megamycete asks as you near the door. (We highly doubt your three would-be murderers will take your return likely. Nor will they likely be in a hurry to return your property. You may have to resort to violence.)

“Good,” is all you say as you enter.

The noise coming from patrons’ conversations, drinking, and arguing comes to an end when you walk inside. A quick look around and you can tell this place lives up to its reputation of being for Gotham’s criminal element; everyone here looks like they’ve done time and will probably spend their last days in prison.

And in the back corner sit your targets, looking at you with their table filled with glasses and plates of food. The sight fills you with rage; they shot you in the head and threw you in a ditch and here they are, eating and drinking like they just got off work and wanted something to take the edge off. And what really pisses you off is seeing the one called Butch holding your Game Boy like it was his right!

“I’m here for them,” you say, pointing to your quarry. “The rest of you are free to go.”

“Up yours, freak,” some shithead shouts back, pulling out a revolver and fires it three times. The bullets hit the hardened mold and fall to the floor, looking like crushed tin cans rather than deadly projectiles. “What the hell?”

He goes to fire it again, but you raise your hand and a tendril emerges from it, piercing the man’s heart; he drops his gun and lets out a disgusting gurgle, blood dripping from it and pooling on the floor, before falling silent, dead.

While most of your mind is disturbed at the sight; you’ve just killed a man, his blood literally on your hands, but you can’t deny there’s a part of you that’s not saddened by your actions. After all, he did try to kill you and if he was in a place like this, chances are he was a piece of shit and Gotham’s a slightly better place for his passing.

For a moment, everyone is paralyzed at what just happened. The place is so quiet, a pin could drop and it would deafen everyone. Then, everyone breaks out of their stupor, practically all of them pulling out their guns and begin shooting at you, but just like their friend here found out, their bullets are useless against you. Numerous tendrils emerge from all over your body and rush at them; some of them empaling them, others wrap around their throats and crush them, while the rest just whip them with enough force to break them in two. One by one, they fall until it’s just you and your prey.

“Look, man,” you killer whimpers as you draw closer to him. “I don’t know what you want, but you can take what we have. Tom, hand him the bag.”

The other one throws a bag, which lands at your feet; you look down to see it’s your book bag. You pick it up and open it to find everything still inside, from your binder and notebooks to your phone and the gift box Mr. Chen gave you. You’re relieved to know that you’re not missing any of your school stuff and don’t have to go looking for anything or replace it. You are, however, missing all the money from your wallet, but a look on the table shows where it went to. But, you’re still missing the most important thing: your Momma’s pen.

“Here, take this, too.” The leader takes the Game boy from Butch and holds it out to you, which you snatch from him, reveling in the fear in his eyes as you did, and carefully place it inside.

That just leaves one last order of business. You extend two tendrils and wrap them around the leaders throat and hold him up from the floor, his legs kicking around, trying and failing to get him back on the ground; his arms pathetically wrap around the tendrils, trying to crate some room for him to breath, and his mouth is gaping like a fish out of water, trying to get any sort of air. His cohorts go to say something, but a quick glare from you shuts them up. You bring the man close to you until you can see your reflection in his eyes, which are wide and full of terror, and open your mold mask, revealing your identity to them and based off their expressions, all three men could probably crush coal into diamonds with their sphincters.

“Holy shit,” Butch whispers, his face showing his complete disbelief.

“It’s that kid,” Tom adds, his face mirroring his partner. “But, we killed him, right?”

“My pen,” you say, looking at this piece of human filth with complete contempt. “Where is it?”

You loosen your grip to allow him to speak.

“My pocket,” he says. “It’s in my pocket. All the pawn shops were closed, so I wasn’t able to sell it.”

While you’re happy that your beloved pen is not is some sleazy pawn shop’s display window, you’re utterly disgusted at the thought of this man’s audacity to think he had the right to sell your most treasured possession like its some worthless trinket. A small tendril emerges form your shoulder and searches the man’s pocket and pulls out that beautiful gold ink pen. You have it deliver it to your left hand, which is empty as your right hand is being used to hold the man in front of you, and hold onto it with a vice-like grip.

(Not even death could separate you from your Mother’s memento,) the Megamycete states. (We are impressed at your dedication to it.)

“Look, we’re sorry for what we did to you,” the man pathetically whimpers. “Really, we are.”

“Did you know this was my Momma’s pen,” you ask as if the man had not just said something. “I lost her on my sixth birthday and was forced to leave my home in Goodsprings to live here. This pen is the only thing of hers I was able to bring with me. And you had felt like you had the right to take something I treasure more than anything else in the world and pawn it off for some petty cash.”

“We didn’t know, man,” Butch responds, now realizing the depth of his mistakes. “We’re sorry.”

“We promise we won’t tell anyone about this,” Tom adds. “Just let us go and you’ll never see or hear from us ever again.”

“You’re right, we won’t see each other again, but wouldn’t you like to know who I was forced to live with?” The three of them pathetically nod in unison and you have to fight the urge to laugh. A few hours ago, these men were looking down at you, sure they could do anything they wanted, but now, here you are, far above them in the food chain. “I was forced to live with my father, Bruce Wayne.”

“But he said—“ the leader starts to say, but you cut him off.

“That bastard has ignored me since I moved in with him,” you shout, shutting him up. “I was his first biological son, but he’s completely forgotten about me!” You take a deep breath. Just the mention of him brings out the worst in you. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t need him. Just like you don’t need your lives.”

And with that, you rip the man’s head clean off his shoulders, not even giving him the chance to realize his fate before killing him. You release the body and both it and his head crumple to the floor in a heap of lifeless meat and to further invoke fear in them, you stomp on the head while looking at them, the thing making a wet splat sound. The other two shout, but you cut them down with ease, tendrils emerging from your back and wrapping around their heads and crush them with ease, showering the floor in their blood and grey matter. Their bodies fall to the floor and flail around for a while before finally stopping.

(Well done,) the Megamycete praises. (You cut down these criminals and made Gotham safer faster than any police officer we have known. Perhaps the local police should seek out your services?)

“Not gonna happen,” you laugh as you walk out of the bar with your backpack in hand. “I have no intention of staying in this place. Once I graduate, I’m going back home.”

(Yes, Goodsprings. A small town located in Nevada. We look forward to experiencing your return to your point of origin.)

And with that, you manifest a pair of black wings on your back and take flight, flying far above the city’s skyscrapers, so hopefully you’re safe from detection. In just a few minutes, you’ve flown from Burnley Island to Bristol, something that should’ve taken almost an hour by car. Thanks to the Megamycete’s roots, you can see the Bats still out and about throughout Gotham, so you don’t have to worry about running into any of them while hurrying into your room.

You land down the street to avoid being picked up by the security cameras (Bruce’s picture is the definition of paranoid based on the amount of cameras in both the estate and in the house itself) and walk the rest of the way there. Normally, walking down the marathon-length driveway to the manor when coming home from work, but his time, you cross the distance like it’s nothing; in fact, you feel like you can do this another dozen times and still feel energized.

But, while you’re physically invigorated, you’re mentally drained and all you want to do is curl up and bed and pass out; you enter Wayne Manor and hurry to your room, never more thankful for being far from the rest of the household than you are now. While you’ve been flying under the radar of Gotham’s vigilantes for years now, you’ll afraid that even they won’t be able to ignore you when they found out about your newly gained powers. During your stay here, you’ve listened to their conversations when they thought you weren’t around and you know that while they distrust everyone (even each other based on the fact that no one seems to be allowed to have secrets), they distrust those with superpowers the most. Two years you listened in on a conversation between Bruce and Superman, who offered to help him during a time when many of Arkham’s most dangerous patients escaped all at once, and Bruce said in a tone that felt like sandpaper being dragged across your face: “Gotham’s off limits to metas. You step one foot in my city and you’ll regret it.”

Honestly, you’re confident that Bruce is only on this planet to be the biggest asshole who ever lived. He treats his first biological son like shit, he raises his “true children” to be as paranoid and pessimistic as him, and he threatens anyone who offers his sorry ass any kind of help. It seems to you that the only one who should’ve died that night in Crime Alley is Bruce.

You shove the man’s image in your head aside. Before tonight, he wasn’t important to you, but now, he’s irrelevant. You never needed him before, but now, you really don’t. With the Megamycete, you have everything you need.

Just then, your phone rings, bringing you out of your thoughts. You fish out your phone and look on the screen to see Alfred’s caller ID staring back at you.

“Hello,” you answer.

“Master Y/N, are you alright?”

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because it’s over an hour since you should’ve called me since getting off work.” You wince when you peek at your phone and see you’re overdue your nightly call with the butler. “So, I ask again: are you alright?” Based off his tone, he’s not going to accept “I’m fine” as an answer.

“Yeah, I am.” You quickly think of anything that could explain your tardiness and realize something: the best lie is an obvious truth. You just need to modify it a bit. “I just stayed behind to tell Mr. Chen goodbye. Today was the last day for the store because his daughter said Gotham was too dangerous for him to stay by himself, so she brought him to her home today.”

“Oh, Master Y/N, I’m sorry.” His tone says he’s bought it and you actually feel bad lying to the man you’ve come to see as a father figure. “I know how much you loved working there. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I will be. I’m gonna miss him.”

“Of course you will, he was a good man and you were the best employee he could ask for. Can I do anything for you? I’m halfway through with my vacation, perhaps I should—“

“No,” you cut the man off. “You don’t have to come back early, Alfred.” With everything that’s happened today, you need some time to prepare yourself before facing Alfred in person again. It would be a disaster for you to expose yourself as some form of metahuman in front of him. Plus, he deserves to have all his allotted vacation time. “I’ll be fine, really.”

“If you’re sure,” he says, obviously wanting to say more, but doesn’t press the issue. “I’ll let you go, I’m sure you’re tired and you need your rest. Please make sure you catch up on your sleep I’m sure you’ve missed this week during your spring break.”

“I will, Alfred, don’t worry. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Very good, Master Y/N. Good night, my boy.”

“Good night.”

You hang up and let out a sigh of relief, glad he bought it.

(You say you trust the butler with your life, but keep the events of tonight a secret from him. Why?)

“Because Alfred’s highly protective and would most likely steal a boat and sail back to Gotham within an hour if I told him I was kidnapped. And if he knew about you, he’d probably drag me to a hospital and have every last trace of mold surgically removed.”

(We do not wish for that to happen.)

“Me neither, bud. You know, after tonight, I think we’re gonna do great things together.”

(We agree. Now, heed the words of your butler and rest. Tonight was very eventful for you. It would not do well for our host to shirk in his bodily needs.)

You chuckle and strip down to your boxers before climbing into bed. Not long after you get comfy, you feel yourself drift off to sleep. For the first time ever, you’re actually looking forward to waking up in Gotham.

Bruce hears Jason whistle at the sight, but says nothing in favor of studying the carnage inside the My Alibi bar. Bodies are scattered everywhere around the establishment, some are relatively intact while others look like they were ripped in half.

“Looks like someone had fun here,” Jim says as he approaches him, Jason, and Damian. “What do you think?”

“Looks like someone had a score to settle,” he responds to the police commissioner. He motions to the remains of three men crowded together in a corner of the bar with their heads missing; two of the heads are near the rest of their bodies while the third has been reduced to a fine red paste. “Especially these three. Based on how they were killed, I’d guess whoever did this was after them.”

“Doesn’t look like Joker’s handiwork,” Jim adds. “No one here’s smiling and the place is devoid of murderous gag toys.”

No, this is definitely not the clown’s MO. Neither does it match the MO of anyone currently missing from Arkham. The only one he could think of that could rip apart and crush some of the victims is Bane, but that doesn’t explain why the remaining victims are impaled; plus, the giant is still locked up in Arkham’s high-security ward. So, this can only mean one thing.

“This is definitely the work of someone new,” he says, bending down to study the squashed head. “And with this being the only scene we know of, this was their first time killing.”

Whoever did this is highly dangerous and needs to be stopped and fast before even more people get hurt. Looks like he and his family are going to have their hands full for the foreseeable future.

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urdepressedslut · 1 year ago

Note

Hello lovely,

I saw your post that your requests are open, so I will give it a try =)

Imagine Bucky and reader are best friends but they have a huge argument and now they don't talk to each other for days. She's feeling really bad, missing him. He is her most important person and now without interacting with him for days, she's feeling lost and lonely and heartbroken. Maybe she has not a super power and is only a normal human, helping the Avengers with IT or something. Due to the argument with her best friend and not talking to Bucky (Bucky ignores her completely) she begins to feel it not only mental but also physically. She can't eat probably and at the end falls deathly sick.... With a fluffy happy ending and a worried and protective Bucky

Please. That would be nice.

Take care honey

oh my goodness— my heart 😭❤️ the angst is gonna hurt, but i’m such a sucker for it. i had so much fun writing this one, thank you for requesting and i hope you like it🥰

Love Hurts

♡ Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You and Bucky get into a heated argument, things are said and done and now he won’t speak to you. You don’t think you can handle him ignoring your existence.

♡ Warnings: language, mentions of bucky’s trauma, heavy angst, malnourishment, depression, anxiety/panic attacks, minor injuries, hospitalization, suicidal ideation, self hate, literally hurt just writing this

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | MATURE CONTENT 18+

Your nails bit into your palm, denting the flesh— threatening to pierce the delicate skin. It was all to hold yourself back, distract you from the words that wanted to burst out.

It was becoming a sickening routine, Bucky was reckless and had yet another near death experience on his recent mission. The anxiety and the nerves stopping your body from functioning— the dreaded wait for his jet to arrive back at the compound. You shouldn’t have to be used of receiving the call that he had yet again made a reckless move— but you were starting to discover a pattern.

It did nothing to ease the panic that swirled in your chest every time he left for missions. You’d sob, throwing up everything you had eaten that day— unable to stomach anything with the idea that Bucky was on a mission. You never found your anxiety to be so severe— but when Bucky was even mentioned about going on a mission… it spiked.

That’s where you found yourself in his room, watching him pace the space— avoiding your frustrated stare. You weren’t angry at him per say— you were angry that he didn’t value his life.

“Seriously (Y/n)— you get so worked up over nothing. I’m here and alive— isn’t that enough?” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

You pressed your nails tighter to your palm, yet the pain couldn’t stop your thundering thoughts.

“You’re here and alive now, until you do some stupid shit like this again and are dead!” You hissed, trying to keep your voice low but you didn’t know how much longer you could control yourself.

He glared at you, squinting his eyes in anger and then rolling his eyes.

“Oh for fucks sake— can you stop fucking babying me? I can handle myself!” He raised his voice, his metal arm whirring.

“I’m not babying you— I’m just scared you’re gonna get yourself killed. Do you care about your life at all?” You asked him aggressively, your voice raising just a tad.

He took a long pause, staring at you with his face void of emotion— only annoyance.

“Not really.” He admitted.

You were taken back, although you had these conversations with him a time or twenty. It was an ongoing process to get him to slowly love himself— his past as The Winter Soldier torturing his soul. He was so convinced he wasn’t deserving of anything, not even a roof over his head. It was a struggle to help him, but you weren’t going to give up on him.

“You realize if anything ever happened to you I—” Your voice broke, needing a breath, “Buck I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

You thought you saw his eyes flash with guilt, but before you could linger on the look for too long— his face was hardening again.

“That doesn’t sound like my problem.” He mumbled out, making your eyes widen.

You were extremely taken back from those words, your chest aching painfully— him not knowing what effect those words had on you.

“Are you fucking serious?” You asked him, your face morphing into a hurt expression, mixed with anger. “Can you just do your job without trying to kill yourself?”

His face grew red with rage and he was stomping up towards you— his face inches from yours.

“I am doing my job— very well in fact. Unlike you who just fucking sits here doing nothing!” He defended himself, his breath hitting your face in warm pants.

“Doing nothing? Buck— why are you like this?” You puffed your chest, not backing down from his towering form.

But your words seemed to have hit a nerve, as he shrunk back slightly, narrowing his gaze at you.

“Like what?”

You furrowed your brows, slowing your racing heart from the shouting— you weren’t sure you had said anything bad. Did you?

“What?” You squeaked out, nervous now.

“You said, why am I like this… like what?” He pushed, stepping closer to you now, his face still red with anger but you could see the hurt in his eyes.

You swallowed and wondered how to convince him you didn’t mean anything bad by what you said. But you were almost positive it would be an impossible task to get Bucky to listen.

“Buck, I didn’t mean anythin—”

“What— you think I’m not capable of doing my job? You think I’m still the monster hydra made me?” He spat, his chest rising and falling quicker.

“No, no Buck listen—”

That was definitely not what you meant, you could tell he was spiraling and you were still confused as to why. You would never make him think that.

“After 70 fucking years I finally have a job that I like— that I enjoy doing— I fucking help people! I’m finally doing some good and now you’re telling me I’m not capable of doing it?” He boomed, his chest puffing into yours and your stumbled back slightly. “You think I’m only capable of being a monster? Huh? Is that what you fucking think?”

You were growing scared now, the look in his eyes wild with something and you didn’t like how close he was to you— you knew he’d never hurt you but your fear overwhelmed your senses.

“Friday— call Steve and Sam in here now!” You shouted into the room, and Bucky’s eyes squinted painfully— his metal arm whirring again.

Bucky only saw one thing— you didn’t reassure him that he was thinking irrationally. You didn’t correct him that he wasn’t the monster. Instead you called for help, that you were clearly scared— because you thought he was a monster.

He was at a loss for words and just stared at you, almost through you— as his breathing was only getting heavier at the sight of your fearful eyes.

Not even minutes later, Steve and Sam were busting through the door, taking in the scene and separated you and Bucky.

“Hey— what’s going on?” Steve asked in between the two of you. “Buck, what’s wrong man?”

You couldn’t seem to find the words and just stood speechless as well— the fight startling you. This was one of the worst ones, and it was also one that still left you confused. You cursed yourself for not being careful enough with your words— but it was almost impossible to get through to him when he was on the brink of having an episode.

Sam walked closer to you, his facing morphing into concern as he took in your shocked expression.

“(Y/n)? You okay? Did he hurt you?” Sam whispered, keeping his words only between you two.

You slowly shook your head but still didn’t respond verbally.

“Okay, okay that’s good. You wanna go get a drink from downstairs? Why don’t we take a breather okay?” Sam suggested softly, big brother mode kicking in at the sight of your frazzled state.

Without another word, you left the room with Sam— missing the devastated look from Bucky.

Steve waited until the door shut, then his attention was back on Bucky.

“Buck, you gotta talk to me man— what happened?” He asked softly, watching his friend slowly relax, but it wasn’t from being in a relaxing mood— his body and mind were just exhausted from the argument.

“I fucked everything up. That’s what happened.” He mumbled, turning away from Steve to sit on the edge of his bed.

Steve followed behind but stood in front of him, shaking his head— ready to argue.

“You didn’t mess anything up, arguments happen. You guys will work it out. I know how much you mean to each other.” Steve pointed out, watching Bucky’s face unchanging.

“You didn’t see the way she looked at me— she’s scared of me I—” He shuttered, his breath shaky as he remembered your look, “I fucking scared her.”

Steve’s chest ached, the state of his friend breaking his heart. He knew Bucky meant no harm, and he almost for a fact knew that you knew that too. But Bucky for sure didn’t believe that himself.

“I didn’t see what you saw, but I can guarantee you that she’s not afraid of you. This is (Y/n) we are talking about. You are her world Buck.” Steve tried to convince him.

Bucky shook his head, running his flesh hand through his hair.

“I think I just need to stay away from her for awhile.” Bucky came up with instead.

Steve immediately started shaking his head, knowing that was the last thing he needed.

“Bucky I—”

“Please Steve… I just need some space.” Bucky pleaded, his body sagging in exhaustion.

Steve couldn’t find it in himself to argue with him anymore about this. Maybe he did need some time to himself, to cool down and gather his thoughts. Also Steve wasn’t going to force him to anything ever. After the years his pal went through— he would never make him do anything. He had enough things decided for him, and Steve wasn’t about to stoop to hydra’s level.

Meanwhile down in the kitchen, Sam was getting you a glass of water— standing across from your seated form at the island. He slid the cup across, sending a worried glance at you.

“(Y/n)?” Sam snapped his fingers getting your attention.

You were shaken from your state of staring, but even snapped out of the trance— the anxieties still swirled within you.

“Yeah sorry… I’m here.” You whispered, grabbing the glass and taking a tiny sip.

Sam gave you a quizzical expression, watching you start to slip back into a mindless stare— so he spoke up.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” He asked, genuinely curious what had went down.

He knew— hell everyone knew you and Bucky were extremely close. Best of friends, always there for one another— dancing on the line of strictly friends to lovers. Truthfully, Sam found it completely obnoxious and just wanted you two together already.

“I don’t really know… I think I said the wrong thing— I didn’t mean to make him upset.” You confessed, keeping your eyes on the countertop, not risking a glance to Sam.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up— mistakes happen. I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Sam told you.

You shook your head, gripping the cup tighter.

“God I hope so… I don’t know what I’d do without him.” You whispered pathetically, tears welling in your eyes.

Sam reached out to rub your arm comfortingly, trying to relax you so you didn’t start crying. He hated to see you cry— made his heart hurt.

“It’s been a long day for everyone, why don’t you go head upstairs and get some sleep. I’m sure things will have blown over by tomorrow.” He suggested and you finally met his gaze, smiling weakly and nodding.

Without saying goodbye, you stood up and headed to your room. Taking Sam’s words and playing them on repeat in your head.

Tomorrow is another day, tomorrow would be better.

God had you hoped that was the case— it only was the beginning on the torment.

You had slept in longer than usual, but overall felt refreshed. The first thing that came to mind when fully waking up was Bucky. Immediately you headed downstairs to find him— needing to talk with him— apologize.

Making it down to the kitchen, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in at the sight of him sitting at the island— sipping at his coffee. You furrowed your brows, thinking he'd be done with his coffee by now, since you had slept in. Your chest ached with guilt with the possibility that he didn't sleep well.

You took a deep breath before making yourself known, although you were sure be could sense you in the room— considering he was a super soldier.

"Morning Buck." You announced, walking around the island so you could face him.

He kept his gaze down at his coffee, finding the cup more interesting than you.

Okay, that’s fair. You thought, you most probably deserved that reaction.

“You sleep okay?” You asked again, picking at the skin on your nails nervously.

Again— he didn’t even lift his head. In fact, he wasn’t even acknowledging you. You waited several minutes for a response, the silence becoming thick with tension and you couldn’t stand it.

“Bucky?” You tried, and this time he lifted his head.

Your heart twinged in your chest at his bloodshot eyes, clear evidence that he hadn’t gotten good sleep. You hated yourself for causing him the stress, especially knowing he was just starting to actually get hours of sleep. It was huge progress compared to his nights either screaming awake or just staring at the walls. But now you had to go and ruin all that progress. You felt sick to your stomach— disgusted with yourself.

“I’m really sorry about last night… I didn’t like how ugly it got and I’m sorry if I said something to upset you— you know I’d never intentionally hurt you.” You told him, picking more aggressively at your nails, causing to nail beds to bleed.

You swallowed nervously when he didn’t answer right away, instead staring at you with… what was that? Disgust? You didn’t know, but you hated the look altogether.

“Bucky, please say something.” You pleaded.

Bucky lowered his gaze to his coffee again, taking a minute before he stood up and looked your way.

“I just need some space.” He told you quietly.

You were relived to have him finally talk to you, but to hear him suggest space between you two— you could almost feel the knife digging into your chest. You tried to keep a neutral expression but otherwise felt your bottom lip quiver.

Without giving you time to respond, Bucky was walking out of the room— leaving you standing there speechless, lungs begging for air. You didn’t want your mind to go immediately to that thought, but you couldn’t ignore it either— he hated you.

“Hey babe, I need you to help me out in the lab tod—” Tony came busting into the room, but immediately shut up once he saw your broken expression. “Honey, what’s wrong? You alright?”

You nodded your head, lying to him and yourself and started waving him off with the fakest smile.

“Yeah— yeah I’m good. Just need to uh— need to get some things done.” You told him, your eyes darting all around the room, the familiar feeling of panic seeping into your being.

Tony gave you a ‘really?’ look and stepped closer to you.

“(Y/n) I’m not blind— I can see you’re upset. Talk to m—”

“Seriously Tony— I’m fine! Just leave it alone!” You told him a little too aggressively.

His face was taken back and you felt guilty immediately, cursing yourself for hurting everyone.

Why are you such a fucking issue? Your mind screamed at you.

You didn’t waste another second and sped walked out of the room, needing to calm yourself down before you ran into any one else. You were spiraling and you needed to just relax— take a deep breath. Maybe you just needed one more day and things would be back to normal.

Yeah… just one more day.

You had hoped that was the case as well… but as always— things only got worse.

Bucky refused to talk to you or even look at you. He’d given you the cold shoulder for almost two weeks now. He would get up and leave the second you entered the room. He couldn’t stand you it seemed.

You couldn’t keep hiding your hurt. At first, you had done a good job at hiding how you were really feeling. Saving the sobbing and attacks for when you were alone in your room. As the days lingered on, you found yourself weak and drained— you didn’t have enough energy to put up a charade anymore.

The whole team were sending you worried looks, and attempted to talk with you. But the second they’d try— you’d bolt. The subject was too sensitive, too raw. You didn’t want to talk to anyone but Bucky— and he hated you.

You had missed so many meals, forgetting to eat with your mental struggles throughout the days. You had been getting no more than two hours of sleep. You were so stressed, so stuck in your own mind that you couldn’t function. Even when you had managed to remember to eat, your stomach would knot up to the point that you were throwing everything up. You were gaunt, basically a real life zombie. You needed help— but you needed Bucky more.

You were laying in bed staring unknowingly into space, it had been hard to focus with no food or sleep in your system— so you had only managed to lay here. Even that was exhausting, no matter how much you laid around— your mind wouldn’t stop the assault. Your anxiety had never been this bad, you were a prisoner to it.

Knocking at your door had you jumping, your heart racing— and for a moment you forgot where you were.

You’re in the compound… yeah that’s right.

You slowed your breathing and swung your legs sluggishly over the edge of the bed to answer it. You weren’t prepared for the sudden dizzy spell, your vision spotting with black and white specks. You tried to blink it off, but suddenly you were toppling to the ground.

You fell to the floor with a loud thump, luckily landing on your front, your hands somehow catching most of your fall— you could already feel the throbbing in your palms.

You didn’t hear the persistent knocking, or the door open. You didn’t even hear the voice speaking from the doorway. It was when a hand landed on your shoulder that you were gasping, forgetting your surroundings once again.

Your eyes met Steve’s and you swore your heart was about to beat out of your chest.

“(Y/n) are you alright?” He asked you, hovering his hands over you— not sure what you had hurt.

You furrowed your brows, looking him over.

“Steve what are… what are you doing here?” You asked genuinely confused.

You watched Steve’s eyes widen and he swallowed nervously— his expression growing more concerned.

“(Y/n) it’s okay… I’ve got you.” Steve hushed, and he was pulling you into his chest, hugging you protectively.

You were still confused but then you tasted one of your stray tears, and you immediately came to your senses. You were crying in Steve’s arms… but why? You were having gaps of time missing from you, this wasn’t the first time this had happened— you just didn’t seem to care.

“Steve… my head hurts.” You slurred into his chest, sagging against him.

You were grateful that he was here, you desperately needed someone around. You were just hoping that someone would’ve been Bucky.

“Okay, let’s get you to Helen. She’s gonna take care of you, okay?” Steve asked you, and you could only give a weak nod.

He knew there was no way you were walking there, so he hoisted you up into his arms, and cradled your head as he started to the med bay.

You just stared blankly at his chest, not really caring if Steve were to throw you off the roof of the building. You just didn’t care.

Steve had gotten you down to her, and she checked you out. Alerting Steve that you were extremely malnourished, dehydrated— an insomniac. She kept listing off all the things Steve was afraid to hear. The whole time he was sure you didn’t hear a thing, although you were in the room— you were just checked out.

Helen eventually left, and Steve took his opportunity to speak with you. He pulled up a chair next to the hospital bed and grabbed your hand.

“(Y/n), what’s going on? You can talk to me— you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Please… just talk to me.” Steve whispered, pleading with you that you would stop torturing yourself.

“He hates me.” You mumbled.

Steve’s eyes widened and he frowned, knowing what you meant. He knew he let this go on for too long.

“(Y/n) he doesn’t hate you. He just needed time to himself, so he co—”

“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, I don’t even know what I said to hurt him but I—” You rushed out, the heart monitor beeping frantically, “I’m a horrible person, I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean to!”

You wheezed out, clutching your chest as you couldn’t catch your breath. Your cheeks glistened with a steady stream of tears, your wheezing only growing by the second.

“Okay, okay (Y/n)— I need you to slow your breathing. You’re okay, he doesn’t hate you. Just take deep breaths okay— even if you can’t just try. I’m here.” He tried to coach you, but this wasn’t his thing.

Now he was starting to get mad at his friend, Bucky shouldn’t of let this go on for this long.

You followed his chest rising and falling, staring at him as he tried to calm you down. Your breaths were heavy and painful sounding. Steve was about to say something but stopped himself when he saw your eyes look behind him.

He turned and saw Bucky standing in the doorway— his face paled. Truthfully, he looked like he was going to be sick.

“(Y/n)?” He whispered, his heart breaking at your state.

He had ran into Helen in the kitchen and was informed of your condition— he didn’t believe it and had to see for himself. He was shocked to find you like this.

Your tears only edged on from his appearance and you shook your head in shame.

“I’m sorry Bucky! Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” You sobbed and Bucky ran to the bed, kneeling down and taking your hands into his.

“Doll it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here— I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you… I’m sorry.” He rushed out, shushing your cries, watching you slow your breathing at his words. “There we go, just keep breathing with me. I’m here, you’re okay.”

He kept repeating himself, making sure you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Steve knew you were in good hands and slowly snuck out of the room— knowing you two needed to talk.

Bucky tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your cheek to your jaw. You couldn’t help the way your face leaned into his touch, it felt like it had been forever since the last one.

Your breathing had slowed down, and now you just stared up at him— eyes glossy with more tears. You felt so many emotions. You felt relived, but also angry and hurt. Above all— you needed to know what you did to upset him. The guilt still ate away at your heart, and even just the memory of the argument had your chest aching.

“What did I do?” You whispered, making his eyes shoot up to yours, concern painting his face.

“You didn’t do anything.” He told you, and you furrowed your brows.

You were still anxious— he hadn’t answered your question. Even more so— if you didn’t do anything then why did he ignore you?

“Then why?”

“Why what (Y/n)?” He dared to ask, and you scoffed— ripping your hands out of his.

The anger was approaching.

“Why did you shut me out?” You wondered, and he only let his eyes cast down to the bed— making you angrier. “You ignored me for two weeks! Two fucking weeks you just acted as if I didn’t exist! Do you know how much that fucking hurts?”

You were breathing heavy again, but this time it wasn’t from panic— it was the full force of all your anger bursting out.

He lifted his eyes to you, and you saw how broken he looked. How your state had affected him.

“I could never do that to you Buck— I would never do that to you! You’re my everything! I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust you!” You raised your voice, while he stayed silent. “If I didn’t do anything then why would you— why—”

You broke out into a sob, covering your face with your hands. You felt good getting all the built up anger out— but now you felt extremely guilty. The pitiful face of Bucky staring at you, causing your heart to hurt all over again. It didn’t matter what happened, you always ended up hurting others.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I— god I fucked up. I didn’t ever mean to hurt you, please know that. You’re my other half, and no one has ever been there for me like you have.” He spoke through a tight throat, swelling with emotion.

You uncovered your face and just stared at him a little longer, still incredibly hurt from his actions— but you knew you couldn’t stay mad at him. You so badly wanted to forgive and forget— and just wrap him in your arms like you both needed.

“It’s hard to explain what’s wrong with me to someone when I don’t even understand what’s wrong with me— I just know I’m fucked up. I’m broken beyond repair.” His voice broke, his own eyes welling with tears.

You didn’t have it in you to keep up an angry facade, and so you reached out and took his hand in yours. His face almost immediately lit up, his breathing slowing at your touch.

“Try me.” You whispered, watching Bucky take a deep breath before he spoke again.

“The night of our fight…” He started, and you swallowed in having to remember that night. “I had never seen you look at me like that.”

You stayed silent, afraid to open your mouth and have a sob escape. You could feel it bubbling up— the memory playing back through your mind.

“You looked at me like you were scared. You looked at me like I was a monster.” He confessed and it all made sense to you now.

It wasn’t about what you said, it was your reaction that disturbed him to no ends. Even if you couldn’t control your reaction in the moment— you still felt guilty for causing him pain of remembering the hydra days.

“Oh Buck…” You whimpered, trying to pull him close— but he pulled away before he could reach your embrace.

“No— you don’t get to be nice to me after what I did. I promised I would never hurt you and I did— you’re in here because of me! I don’t deserve your forgiveness!” He raised his voice, and you weren’t scared of him— just concerned.

“I wasn’t scared of you Bucky, you just caught me off guard. Things were heated— I’m not afraid of you and I most definitely don’t think you’re a monster.” You tried to convince him.

“I really hope you’re not lying because if you were afraid of me… god I don’t know what I’d do. If you never wanted to see me again— that’s fine. Whatever you want, but I can’t live knowing you’re afraid of me.” He whimpered out.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He nodded his head, knowing damn well you’d never lie. That was one thing he loved about you— you were so honest. Keeping it real with him, even if he didn’t wanna hear it. He could count on you for the truth.

“I still don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He argued.

“Well too bad, I’m forgiving you anyway.” You finally told him and he felt his chest expand.

Like he could finally breath.

“Why?” He wondered.

You knew it was the line you two had been dancing on forever— but you knew if there was ever a time to say it. It was now.

“Because I love you.” You admitted quietly.

His eyes widened just slightly, and his breath stuttered. He had always had a feeling what you two had was more than friends, he just never spoke up about it. Of course he loves you too— god he loves you so much. That’s why the thought of you being scared of him was enough to pull him away. He couldn’t bear being around you if you were frightened by him. He couldn’t live with himself. More importantly he now discovered, he really couldn’t live without you.

“I love you so much.” He confessed back as your tears leaked down your cheeks.

You pulled his arm, and he let you pull him to the bed— close enough where you could cup both his cheeks.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, please. I need you Bucky— life is not livable without you.” You cried, kissing his forehead to which he leaned into your lips.

“Never again— I promise.”

This time, he wouldn’t break it.

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TAGLIST: @engie115 @kmc1989 @ghostofwinter @silverfire13 @goldylions @potatothots @billy-reads @hanihoney88 @skittle479 @hereticdance @mentalidrainedfangirl @natashassandwich @marvelogic @soul-system @alinasmcu @almosttoopizza @lilbabygirll @sebastiansstanswhore @yujyujj @jasminocano

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gallavichsreddie1128 · 3 months ago

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Feelings and Faults (Wolverine)

Description: Logan loves Y/N but she’s too caught up on the past.

Word Count: 1,020

Requests: Hi I was just wondering if you could write wolverine x reader smut where he is in love/obsessed with her and she has feelings for him but doesn’t acknowledge it because she doesn’t think she deserves to be loved which could be down to past trauma (it’s up to you) but then they confess their feelings inspired by the scene in the Honda Odyssey just without deadpool please it’s okay if not

Author’s note: I didn’t see the smut part until I went to post so that’s not part of the story. But I hope you like it!

She sat in the Honda Odyssey with a drink in her hand. She never really was one for drinking but times like these it was needed. Everyone was either inside planning the attack on Nova or by the fire drinking. She was in the car, alone in thought. Not realizing that she had someone that could never look away from her.

Someone that loved her and wanted to be with her even though she had fault in that. After losing Erik she never felt like she could be loved again or deserved it. But Logan adored her and wanted her forever. In his universe Y/N and Magneto were the happy couple that he let get killed. He always adored her but could never have her.

Now, she didn’t have Magneto in her life anymore and he wanted to be the one to fill the void. He could tell that she beat herself up over it and the blame was on her. Whatever happened between them, he would never believe that she was fully the one to blame. She deserved love and happiness, even if she couldn’t see it.

After his talk with Laura he walked over to the car that he knew she was in and got in the driver side. She looked over at him and saw a bottle of whiskey in his hand and smirked. He was definitely one for drinking. But she couldn’t blame him. “How did I know that you were in here?” He asked and she shrugged. “Despite what Wade says, I think the Honda Odyssey fucks hard.” She said and that made him chuckle.

Wade hated this car but Y/N liked it. “I also didn’t take you for drinking.” She smiled at him and held up the drink, “Cheers to that. I never was a drinker but after things go south it’s nice to have one.” He watched as she chugged the rest of her drink and held out her cup to fill it up. He gladly poured her another glass. “So about the fight earlier-” “Don’t mention it. He’s fine.” “I’m talking about you. Us.” She looked over at him, “What’s there to talk about? You’re right. I beat myself up over a guy that probably never gave a shit about me.” He felt guilt for saying that to her. “In my universe, you guys were married. Had kids even. You two were in love.” She rolled her eyes, “And let me guess we died?” He nodded and cleared his throat, “Yeah. It was awful. I constantly think back to that night and it haunts me.” “It was probably meant to be.” He looked at her, “What do you mean?” “I’m not meant to be happy in any universe.” He wanted to roll his eyes at her and her stupidity but he kept going, “No. That’s me. You sit here and act like nobody loves you and you’re alone but that is fair from the truth.” She looked at him as he finished off the bottle.

“Y/N, In my universe I was in love with you. I wanted you so bad but Erik beat me to it.” Her eyes widened in shock. His words repeating in her head. “The first second I met you I felt it all come back. Only this time Erik isn’t in the way. It’s you.” She chugged her drink before she could get out the words, “What?” It wasn’t a question of her asking him to repeat what he said or that she couldn’t hear him. She simply could not believe the words that left his mouth.

“Don’t act like nobody loves you and doesn’t care about you. I do! And I always will.” She stared at him with wide eyes. Sure, she had some feelings for him but she beat herself up after what happened with Erik. “You’re drunk.” She stated and he laughed. “Unbelievable. I pour my heart out to you and you tell me I’m drunk?” She didn’t know what to say to him at this time. “Y/N, Erik was a fucking idiot for not loving you and trying with you. You’re amazing and beautiful and only a dumb fuck like him wouldn’t see that.” Her eyes filled with tears, “You can’t mean that.” She whispers and he sighs, “Well I do. And if Wade wasn’t there earlier than maybe this would have come out sooner.” She turned away from him and sighed.

This couldn’t be real. There was no way he was telling the truth. Was he? She looked up at the top of the car, “The Magneto that Cassandra killed, that was mine.” He turned to look at her, “The TVA had got him before I could save him. I feel like the biggest fuck up about it. It wasn’t that he didn’t love me or wanted to be with me. It was never known but we had something special.

That’s why I was so nervous about coming here. I was so scared that he wouldn’t want anything to do with me and hated me but he’s dead. That’s worse than him hating me.” She was pouring her heart out to him. “I want to believe you, Logan. But I don’t know. After seeing you and you helping us I realized that maybe Erik wasn’t the one for me and that I could have another chance at happiness.”

“You can. I’m right here.” She turned to look at him to find that he was already looking at her. Maybe it was the heat of the moment but she really wanted to kiss him. As if he was Charles Xavier and could read her mind, he leaned in and kissed her. She kissed back and maybe it was the drink or the kiss but she felt herself calm down and realize that this was meant to be. “Erik wasn’t your fault sweetheart. You are not at fault for that. You deserve love and all the happy things in love.” She felt herself smile at his words. “Thank you, Logan.” she whispered and he smiled. “No problem, sweetheart.” He said before they locked lips again.

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taintandviolent · 15 days ago

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Le coup de foudre ; Gambit x Reader

summary: THIS IS PART 3 OF THE TACO TUESDAY SERIES! PART ONE HERE / PART TWO HERE! Reader is suffering, big time. She wants Remy, but he hasn't called. Post-Void, everyone got out alive and everything is fine.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 3.1K | some angst to start things off, smut with some plot (we've got an established relationship, huzzah), French and typing out accents/dialects, pet names (chere, mon ami, mon coeur, etc.), shower sex, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, no use of y/n, and some fluff at the end, because I went and broke y'all's hearts in the last chapter.

a/n: praying that the gambit fandom hasn't completely died out.... i'm so sorry this took me so long. banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

The first day is the hardest.

The first day is the hardest because by 1:30 PM, you realize that you’re in love with Remy Lebeau. You cry on the couch he kissed you on. Why are you crying? Because you can’t remember the last time you’ve been in love with someone, and you know what comes with love. None of it is good.

The second day sucks too because you go to work, and come home to an apartment that, for the first time since you’ve lived there, really felt empty. There’s nowhere you can sit that he hasn’t touched. His memory lingers everywhere and try as you might, you can’t escape it. You aren’t sure you want to, either, which is troubling in and of itself.

By the third day, your heart is aching, but it’s a dull ache. Something like anger has started to roil in your system, and you’re wondering why he hasn’t called, or stopped by. You can justify it by saying that you don’t know what mutant superheroes go through or what their daily life looks like, but you’re still sour that there’s been nothing but radio silence on his end.

Day four comes and goes, and nothing changes. You’re still sad. You’re still angry. But most of all, you’re still lonely.

Day five… however. Day five comes, you’ve cycled through all the stages of grief and landed somewhere on the spectrum of desperation.

So, after work, you march across the hall to Wade’s, and knock three times in a little melody. After a few moments, the door flies open, revealing a very casual looking Wade. He’s wearing a Hawaiian shirt and grey sweats. You avert your eyes from his groin, out of respect.

“Wade,” you stammer, scratching a non-existent itch on your arm. “Hey.”

“Pookie! How nice of you to stop by. Blind Al and I were just about to partake in some Colombian party powder, care to join us?”

Your pupils dilate. Was he being serious? You couldn’t tell. “Uh… no. No, I’m good.”

You shift uneasily. You aren’t sure how to start this, so you just blurt whatever comes out.

“Wade… um. Look, I’m sorry to ask this of you. I just…. I can’t take it anymore. He doesn’t seem like the type to ghost someone, and I just… I really want to talk to him.”

“You want Gambit’s number?”

You perk up, relieved that you didn’t have to ask the question yourself. Wade was more perceptive than you thought.

“Y-yeah, if you have it.”

“I don’t. Womp-womp. But I gave him yours.”

“Oh…” A beat. “...wait. How did you get my number?”

“Remember that package that was misdelivered?”

“No….”

“Yikes. Well, I do. It had your name and phone number on it. I figured it’d be useful to have so…” He taps the side of his head.

“Why did you… did he ask for it?”

“Boy, did he.”

You frown, feeling an overwhelming flurry of emotions. On one hand, he’s had your number and hasn’t called. On the other hand, he wanted your number. But he hadn’t done a damn thing with it. Your shoulders sink, unconsciously.

“Oh, sweet cheeks. Someone play some Cigarettes After Sex, this is getting emotional.” Wade mock frowns, looking off to the left for a moment before his eyes dart back to you. “He’s probably saving lives or something heroic. Undisclosed mutant drama.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, choosing to ignore his weird commentary. “I appreciate it.”

“What’re you gonna’ do now? Cue the depressed drinking montage.”

“That’s a great idea, actually…”

“No, no… let’s not.”

You interject with a finger in his face. “Yeah, let’s.”

“If you’re going to do that, let’s do it inside. C’mon.” Wade doesn’t give you a moment to reject him, and plants both of his hands on your shoulders, yanking you forward.

Turns out, Wade does have alcohol. He makes you a drink, something that tastes like whiskey. Maybe it's your whiskey, left over. You bring the glass to your lips, sucking the liquid down. It’s strong, but you aren’t complaining.

“Oooohohoh, you’ve got it bad, huh? Heart eyes and all that mushy-gushy shit?”

You throw a glare his way, and take another sip. The liquor burns better than any remark you could’ve come up with.

“It’s okay,” he says, nodding. “I can’t say I blame you. It’s that Southern charm he’s got. Handsome, slick, and he can do magic tricks.” His eyes widen, excitedly. “How could you not fall in love with him?”

“Wade, you’re not helping.”

“Sure I am,” he retorts.

You take a seat on Wade’s couch, looking distraught. You’re thankful that Blind Al is in fact… blind because she can’t see the way that the tears are welling up in your eyes. You look at the chairs that you two sat on, flirting with each other.

“Oh,” Wade says, looking somewhat surprised. “Oh no.”

“She cryin’?” Blind Al asks. Great, she’s perceptive. You swallow back a sob, and bring the glass to your lips again.

“Almost… almost… c’mon, give us a cinematic, single tear.”

You shake your head and suck it up as best you can. You don’t want acknowledgement, that’ll only make it worse, possibly sending you into a fit of sobs. You don’t even know why you’re so upset – it’s not like he told you he never wanted to see you again. He just hadn’t… well, done anything and that was somehow worse.

“Je-sus…!” Wade says suddenly, leaning over to angrily look through the peephole. He stays there for a moment, before leaning back, a sly smile on his face.

And that’s when you hear the dull thudding that has Wade’s attention. It sounds like a knock – a heavy handed one.

You straighten your spine, curious.

“Oh, this is too perfect.” He says under his breath, before taking one step towards you. “Save the waterworks, your Cajun Prince has returned.”

You set the glass on the floor and scramble off the couch, practically on all fours as you run towards the door, pushing Wade out of the way. Standing on your tiptoes to look through the peephole for only a split second, you get a visual. Hurriedly, you twist the knob and throw the door open, wanting to rip it off its hinges. It bumps into the wall behind it, and your breath rushes out.

Remy stands there, facing your door, his fist raised to knock again. He has a duffel bag on his shoulder, which slides off the second he hears your voice.

“Remy?” you call, your voice quivering slightly. He turns abruptly, his coat flaring out behind him. He’s wearing armor now, and looks like he’s just come back from something serious.

“Chere? What’re you –”

You don’t need to answer again, instead, just run across the hall, rushing into his arms. Your body hits him so hard that you let out a little vocalization, a delicate oomph, as you compress yourself to him. He immediately responds by wrapping one arm around your waist, and the other around the back of your head, hand petting your hair gently.

He smells like blood, sweat and ash, but you nuzzle your cheek into the rigid plate of his purple chestplate anyway, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso in a desperate hug.

After a moment, you pull away, just enough to look up at him. He looks down at you, his eyes burning with such an adoration that you can’t help but clench your stomach. He looks like he missed you as much as you missed him.

“Is this your superhero outfit?” Your fingers stroke the ridges in his cowl, admiring it. Slowly, they trail down the length of it, and begin to make their way over his smooth chestplate.

He laughs, looking down at you. “ ‘Spose so.”

“I like it.”

Two smiles later, he pulls you in for a bruising kiss, lifting you up off the ground slightly. You’re on your tiptoes again, smashing your lips against his and tasting him as hungrily as you did the first time – if not hungrier. There’s something extremely erotic about kissing a costumed hero, something to do with uniforms and all that, you assume, but the butterflies in your stomach go wild at the feeling of his armor against you. This time, you don’t try to suppress anything and give into the feeling of it all.

Someone sighs dreamily behind you and Remy breaks the kiss to look knowingly over the top of your head. Wade is leaning against his door frame, hands clasped in front of his chest. Short of having hearts bursting over his head, he’s silently gushing, his brows pulled together in a sappy expression, with a dorky smile curling around his lips.

“Oh, c’mon! Just a peek? Where’s your sense of fan service?!”

“No, Wade.” Remy croons, opening your door and pulling you in with him. He shuts the door with one hand.

“Now before we get to the good stuff, I wanna’ wash this day offa’ me.”

You nod your head, understanding, and reach for his hand. The bathroom is adjacent to your bedroom, so you lead him down the hall.

You flick on the light; it’s all dark tile and cool tones. You head to the sizable shower, and open the glass door, leaning in just enough to turn the knob. The water splashes to life, and steam fills the bathroom quickly.

Watching Remy undress himself is like a strip tease that has you biting your lip. He’s determinate and meticulous, like he knows you’re watching. The jacket and armor pieces come off first, and get set on the edge of the bathroom counter. Then comes the shirt, revealing that delicious torso again, the one that you’ve been longing to run your hands over for almost a week. He quickly unzips his pants and drags them down his legs before setting them atop the rest of the items. The briefs are last – the perfect ending to reveal his heavy, flaccid cock before he turns, and walks into the shower. He’s got a perfect ass, too; muscular and round. You’re pretty sure you could bounce a quarter off of it. The water splashes against the roundness of his freckled shoulders, spattering against the muscle and onto the tile.

“Chere, c’mere…” He reaches for your hand, pulling it inside the shower.

“Wait, wait,” you laugh, and retract your hand. “I’m not coming in there fully dressed.”

“Then get naked, mon amour. We know we done been waitin’ long enough to feel each other again.”

You pull your shirt over your head, and reach around back to undo your bra. Your jean shorts are next, joining the pile on the floor.

The water is warm, but Remy’s naked body is even warmer.

There’s a beautiful, tender familiarity in the way you touch each other, coupled with a hunger that can only be fueled by absence. He hasn’t had you in days, you haven’t had him; the desire has reached a boiling point, and needs to be expelled. He presses you against the tile of the shower, watching as the water pitter-patters against your skin, over your decollete, over your breasts and down the gentle curve of your stomach. He leans down and kisses the hollow of your throat, his hands cupping your hips forcefully.

“I missed you,” he murmurs against your skin.

“I missed you too… maybe more.”

“Ooh, doubt that.”

As his fingers trail along your body with an air of ownership, Remy kisses your wet shoulders, nipping at the warm, slick flesh. Despite the heat, you shiver. He has a real knack for making your body shudder. Your knees feel like jell-o, so you wrap your hands around his strong neck, interlacing your fingers behind it for some support.

His fingers dip down between your legs and teasingly splay out over your folds. His middle finger slips between them, glossing over your center, and slides all the way down, teasing your entrance with the pad of his finger. Everything is wet, but he can feel the slickness that meets his finger. His cock twitches against your thigh.

“‘Dat’s my girl,” he says, low. “Y’know, I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout ‘dis way too much.” His hand cups your cunt, as if to punctuate his sentence and you bite your lip, looking into his eyes. You shift, forcing more friction against his wet palm, the warm water pooling between your legs. “The thought of you been distractin’ me. You a dangerous woman, cher…”

“I’m dangerous? Says the guy who has fucked me in every room, on almost every surface in my apartment…”

Remy chuckles and the sound fills your heart. There it is again – that unyielding feeling of adoration. You’re horny as all get out, but somehow, you still have the capacity to swoon over tiny things like his laugh. This isn’t you, this isn’t what you’re used to. Frustrated, you bump your head against the tile, letting out a small groan.

He notices this, and brings his other hand – still leaving one situated between your legs – up behind your head.

“What’re you doin’? What’s wrong, chere?”

“Nothing...” you huff, looking over at the shower head. It doesn’t sound very convincing, but you aren’t ready to spill your guts to him yet… you’d rather have him rearrange your guts and not think about the feelings.

He smirks, devilishly, like he already knows. If he does, he’s not letting you off the hook.

“Guess I just gon’ have to fuck it outta’ you, huh?”

You avert your gaze back to him, pupils dilating. You know him well enough now that he means what says.

With that, he places a kiss on your forehead, and turns his body towards the stream of water. He begins washing himself, and you watch as the suds slowly trail down the ample curve of his back. You reach forward, spreading them over the indentation of his spine, washing him gently.

“Hoo, the way you touch me…” he murmurs just loud enough for you to hear it.

The shower is intimate and everything is mutual, cue the montage. For the… what? Tenth time that week? You realize that you're in way too deep with Remy. Way too deep, and there’s nothing you can do to change it.

Drying his feet off on the mat and allowing you space to do the same, Gambit then pulls a towel from the rack, and wraps it around your naked body. The droplets absorb into the fibers, and you’re a little less drippy. Well, your body is. The hungry, whining void between your legs isn’t.

When Gambit turns, you catch a glimpse of his half-hard cock and blush. Even though you’ve fucked it, sucked it and everything else, the sight of is still enough to send butterflies erupting in your stomach.

He can’t get you to the bedroom fast enough. His hands are on your hips, directing you towards the bed and you let out a little vocalization, much to his delight.

“C’mere, mon ami… get up on ‘dat bed.”

You obey. Why wouldn’t you? You’ve been waiting for this for almost a week now.

Before he has a chance to stop you, you’re reaching forward to take his cock in your hand. It’s heavy and hot and the feeling of it against your palm makes you clench painfully, twinging with heat. You take your time in stroking him to full hardness, swiping your thumb over the leaking tip and smearing the pre-cum down his veiny length.

Once he’s there, he’s like a freight train. Unstoppable and panting hard. He fucks you hard over the edge of the bed, hard enough to make your breasts bounce back and forth with each bullying thrust, withdrawing it to the tip and bottoming out each time. Your bedroom is filled with the sounds of bodies slapping together, flesh against flesh.

“Tell me,” he grunts. “Ain’t no place for secrets up in here.”

“It’s not important – uuhhh!” Another thrust, deep as he can go.

“Cher,” he growls and thrusts again. “I ain’t gonna’ let you cum ‘till you tell me.”

“No,” you moan, bringing your hands to your tits as they move. “Please, I’m so close, we can — uhhh god!”

He’s relentless.

“Fuck, fuck-fuck, oh my god…!”

With a slick pop, he pulls his cock all the way out. You lift your head up, gazing distraught between your legs; he’s centimeters away from you. The tip is red, glistening and angry as it twitches up, pre-cum leaking from the slit.

“Tell me, cher, or you ain’t gonna’ get ‘dis cock again.” He bucks his hips forward, dragging the fat, wet tip against your swollen cunt. You cry out at the sensation, your clit buzzing with electricity. Despite all that, he doesn’t penetrate you again, and you whimper at the empty sensation. Every time you try to move your hips to get his cock to slip in again, he pulls back just enough to put distance between you two. You whine through gritted teeth.

“Okay!”

He presses the head of his cock against your clit. Waiting. Patiently. So patiently. For a moment, you marvel at the control he has considering that his cock looks red and angry, aching to empty itself inside of you.

“Fine. I think…” You pause to catch your breath. “I think I love you.”

Remy closes his eyes for a second, reveling in the sound of you saying it. He’d wanted to say it to you at breakfast, and he’d wanted to say it before he left.

“Mm.”

“Mm?”

“Mmm-mm. ‘Dat’s what I wanted to hear, chere. An’ it sounds so good comin’ outta’ ‘dat mouth of yours.”

He lines the cockhead up, and bottoms out with another word. He’s said enough, apparently. When he takes hold of your hips, lifting them up slightly to give himself a deeper angle, you wrap your hands around your sheets until the fibers squeak. Your nails dig into the fabric, nearly puncturing holes in them. It’s only a few more earth-shattering thrusts before you cum, and before he fills you with white hot heat, the two of you calling and moaning each other’s names in ecstasy.

After softening inside of you, which is somehow extremely sweet, he withdraws himself from your cunt, and uses the sheet to clean up the mess that leaks out. He carefully lifts you up onto the bed fully, and then crawls next to you, nestling into the same space he did last night.

It’s like he never left.

“I really do, you know. I love you. I know we just met and fucked and that’s all, but I love you.”

“You keep sayin’ ‘dat’s all’ as if what we have is somethin’ casual, cher. You’re gonna’ hurt Remy’s feelings if you keep ‘dat up. So, knock it off, ah?”

“It’s… it’s not casual?”

He shakes his head. “I love you too, mon coeur. I have since I first saw you…”

You hum happily, and nuzzle yourself against his bare chest. “I finally understand that French phrase I learned… C’etait le coup de foudre?” (It was love at first sight.)

“Oui… oui.”

#Gambit #Remy Lebeau #channing tatum #Deadpool and Wolverine Gambit #channing tatum gambit #Gambit x reader #gambit x you #remy lebeau x reader #remy lebeau x you #female reader #Deadpool and Wolverine #Deadpool 3 #x reader fics #myfics

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munson-blurbs · 10 days ago

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Joker!Eddie Munson x Harley Quinn!Reader

Summary: You're a psychologist who has always done the right thing. Enter Eddie Munson, mandated to attend court-ordered counseling sessions, who has a devilish side you can't resist.

WC: 2.9k

Warnings: dark fic, loosely based on Joker and Harley's story, mention of drug dealing, mention of parental abandonment and death, murder, ex!Jason Carver/Harvey Dent, arson, power imbalance, allusions to smut

A/N: Before y'all say anything, I know that Joker and Harley have a toxic relationship. Eddie and Reader bring out the worst in each other, but this is *clears throat* FANFIC! So long live these fake toxic relationships. And big thank you to @corroded-hellfire for her help with the lore. Happy Halloween!

Divider credit to @saradika

Eddie Munson didn’t sit down once for the entire duration of his first session.

Most of your clients opted for the couch. The more nervous ones sitting so close to the worn cushion’s edge that they nearly fell off, while the more experienced ones practically lounged as they recounted whatever horrors had occurred since their last session.

Eddie paced back and forth, his Reeboks wearing a hole in the mildewed carpet, only pausing when he needed to light a cigarette.

“I mean, this is bullshit.” He took a drag and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Twenty fuckin’ years, I get shoved to the side, and now they think some shrink is gonna fix all my problems?”

‘They’ most likely referred to Chief Hopper, who had been the one to recommend Eddie receive court-mandated therapy instead of serving time in jail for possession with intent to distribute. The police chief had become soft ever since adopting that teenage daughter, which was probably why Eddie was in your dingy office rather than behind bars.

Your gaze flicked over the tattoos on his arms, visible where he’d cut his shirt sleeves, and looked him in the eyes. “Have you been to therapy before, Eddie?”

He threw his head back and laughed so violently that you dropped your pen. Before you could reach for it, Eddie picked it up and placed it in your lap, his fingertips grazing the hem of your skirt.

“After my dad got locked up for, oh, I dunno, the tenth time?” Eddie shook his head and laughed again, though this one was quieter. “My uncle took me to talk to some shrink. Turns out that my old man had actually stolen the guy’s car. Small fuckin’ world, huh?” He scratched at the nape of his neck. “Yeah, he told us never to come back. So we didn’t.”

Your heart broke for the child he once was, rejected by a therapist while coping with his father’s incarceration. “Where was your mother?” You asked softly.

Eddie flicked some ash into the ashtray. “She’d been dead for a while at that point.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be.” His face lit up, smiling too hard to properly take another drag of his cigarette. “At least she didn’t have to deal with any of this shit. All she had to do was be worm food.”

The visual made your stomach turn, but Eddie was grinning.

“Aww, c’mon, Sweetheart” he pouted jokingly, snuffing out his cigarette. “You gotta appreciate some dark humor once in a while.”

The nickname would have earned any other man a stern look, maybe even a warning for dismissal, but it felt so right coming from Eddie.

“Do you use humor to cope?”

He twisted a skull ring around his finger and walked over to where you sat before crouching down in front of you.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do here.” One hand found your knee, his nail catching on a run in your black tights. Eddie peered up at you, lips twisting into an unsettling smile. “But I’m not dealing because I’m sad or trying to fill a void left behind by my parents. I’m doing it to survive in this shithole.”

He rose then and resumed his pacing while he ranted. “We can sit here all goddamn day and talk about my daddy issues, or my mommy issues, or how the system failed poor Eddie Munson over and over and over. And maybe I’ll leave here feeling slightly less shitty about myself. But you know what that won’t do?” He didn’t wait for your response. “It won’t put food on the table or keep the lights on. It won’t stop the bank from taking my trailer. Greedy bastards.”

Only when you remained silent did Eddie glance over at you with his wide brown eyes, as though he’d just remembered his speech had an audience. “You can put all that in your notes. Show it to Chief Hopper, to the judge; I don’t care.”

You closed the marble notebook perched in your lap and capped your pen. “I’m not trying to fix you, Eddie,” you said. “I just want to know you.”

“No, you don’t.” Eddie huffed out a chuckle. “You wanna get inside my brain. You can’t help it. I’m an interesting guy.”

He was. You’d always been interested in understanding people; how they thought and how it affected their behaviors. It was why you chose a career in psychology. But Eddie had something beyond that—a magnetic pull that drew you in, no matter how many times you silently reminded yourself to maintain those professional boundaries.

For the remaining twenty minutes of your session, you dug for as much information about Eddie as you could get. He played guitar, took six years to graduate high school because of an algebra teacher who was determined to flunk him, and kept a notebook of his own to plan Dungeons & Dragons campaigns.

If you didn’t have another client immediately after him, you would have let him keep talking. You clung to every word like a lifeline, noting the little mannerisms peppered into his personality.

Eddie spoke with his hands and ran his fingers through his knotted curls when he was particularly agitated or passionate about a topic. His nose scrunched when he asked questions that required your approval. He’d lick his lips every so often, and his tongue poked out of his mouth when he was concentrating. Every movement was intoxicating.

Your next session was more of the same, though this time, Eddie actually sat down on the couch. He lit a cigarette before speaking, taking a drag and holding it out to you.

You watched the smoke curl around his fingertips, beckoning you to accept his offer. It was wrong; sure, you could smoke during a session, but to share a cigarette with a client? You shouldn’t. You couldn’t.

You did.

“There ya go,” Eddie murmured under his breath, watching your chest rise with the inhale and fall with the exhale. “Sweetheart, ya gotta take the edge off once in a while. Do something that makes you smile.”

You cocked your head teasingly, holding the cigarette hostage for a moment longer. “Aren’t I supposed to be helping you?”

“We can help each other.” He plucked the cigarette from your grasp. “Watch.”

Your gaze stayed on his lips, full and slightly chapped from the bitter winter, as he inhaled deeply. He crooked a finger, and your body moved of its own volition to the spot beside him.

His thumb pulled at your lower lip, a question he could already answer. His mouth found yours, not in a kiss, but just to transfer the smoke he’d been holding back; tobacco mixed with a subtle hint of spearmint.

“How do you feel now?” Eddie hadn’t moved back, and you felt every word he spoke.

All you could do was nod, focusing every ounce of energy on going back to your chair. The distance suddenly seemed too far; any distance from Eddie seemed too far. You wanted to be in his lap, sharing the remainder of that cigarette, drawing you in closer…

Swallowing your steadily building desire, you forced yourself to ask him a question that didn’t pertain to the way he tasted. “W-What was it like moving in with your uncle?”

Eddie laughed darkly, taking in your nervousness like he knew exactly how brainless he’d made you. “My uncle, huh? All right, I’ll bite” He stretched, revealing a thin trail of hair that started at his navel and dipped below the waist of his jeans. There was a sick gleam in his eyes when he caught you staring, but he said nothing about it.

He told you about a police officer dropping him off on Wayne Munson’s doorstep in the middle of the night after his father had been arrested.

“Just me and a trash bag full of clothes that barely fit me,” he proclaimed. “Oh, and the headlice tagging along. Ended up having to shave these gorgeous locks.” He shook his head to exaggerate his point.

“That must’ve been really traumatic for you.” You tapped your pen on your notebook absently, somewhat aware that you should be writing this information down, but not able to look away from him.

Eddie shrugged. “Not really. It grew back.”

“I meant…never mind.” You tucked your lips into your mouth to stifle a giggle.

He looked as though he wanted to say something, but your actions distracted him.

“Don’t hide your smile.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, letting you feel the gravity saturating his words. “Makes me happy when you smile.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was laughing at you.”

He clicked his tongue in mock sympathy, like he pitied you. It was a gesture you were unused to seeing from your clients. “You wouldn’t be the first, Sweetheart.” Eddie sat forward. “You might have been the first to feel bad about it, though.”

Over the following weeks, your sessions with Eddie followed the same routine. You would ask him questions and he would answer them cryptically. Shared cigarettes became more frequent as you convinced yourself it was good for building rapport.

In the early days of spring, where winter’s chill still peeked in each morning, Eddie opened the door to your office and found you crying in your chair. Most clients waited for you to get them from the waiting room, but he always let himself in.

The moment you heard the hinges creaking, you swiped at the tears dampening your cheeks. Embarrassment flooded your veins and heated you from the inside out at the thought of him seeing you in such a vulnerable state.

He was at your side in a heartbeat, reaching for the tissue box you kept on your bookshelf. “What’s wrong?” There was venom in his tone, ready to bite at a moment’s notice.

“N-Nothing,” you lied clumsily, convincing neither him nor yourself. “Just a bad day.”

Eddie gritted his teeth. “Don’t fuckin’ do that, Sweetheart.” He grabbed your chin and brought your full attention with it. “Don’t fuckin’ lie to me. Not when I’ve been honest with you.”

The story spilled out before you could think better of it: You’d woken up that morning to your ex-boyfriend banging on your front door, screaming to let you in, his slurred words informing you that he was drunk. Calling the police would be futile; he was buddies with the whole department and more than likely had them in his back pocket. All you could think to do in that moment was hide under your covers until he eventually gave up and left.

Eddie tensed, never losing his grip on you. “Did he hurt you?” His breathing quickened, fight-or-flight activated. “I swear to God, Sweetheart, if he put his hands on you–”

“No,” you hurriedly assured him. “No, he just scared me. But Jason’s never–” Your eyes widened when you said his name aloud; all at once, you realized your error.

“Jason…Carver?” Eddie’s eyes narrowed. “The hell were you doing with an asshole like him?” He shook his head before you could answer. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he never bothers you again.” Rage flashed in his eyes. “Just say the word, and I’ll do it.”

You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?” There was no way…he wouldn’t…

He crossed his arms over his chest, obscuring the view of the devil on his shirt. “Do you remember a few years ago when Harrington Enterprises was planning to shut down the plant to build those luxury condos?”

You nodded, wondering where he was going with this. Warren Harrington had all but signed on the dotted lines, but he’d been murdered in his own home before he closed the deal. Rumor had it that his own son, Steve, had orchestrated it in order to gain control of the family fortune. An investigation came up without any suspects, and the plant remained open.

“If they had their way, my uncle and all of his buddies would be out of a job, and then they’d lose their cars, their homes…well, you know how it goes.” Eddie smirked. “So I did what I had to do to stop that from happening.”

“You…” you lowered your voice in case anyone was listening in, “you killed Warren Harrington?”

He bristled preemptively, only relaxing when he didn’t detect any judgment. “I’d do anything to protect the people I love.” Eddie’s palms cupped your cheeks, the calluses scratching at your skin. “I’ll kill Carver if it’ll keep you safe, Sweetheart. You won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Everything about this was wrong. He was threatening to commit homicide for you because he loved you.

You needed to stop this. It had gone too far. And yet you couldn’t, not when he was pleading to let him take care of you. All of your career, all of your life, you had been expected to clean up everyone else’s messes. You were the one who fixed other people’s mistakes, who solved their problems. To lift that burden from your shoulders, to let someone else take it on…

“I love you, too, Eddie.” You reached out and took his steady hands in your trembling ones. “I love you so much.”

“Okay. Good.” Eddie sighed deeply, leaning in and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. There was a flicker of amusement when he pulled back and saw the concern on your face. “C’mon, baby. You should be happy. Here.” He reached behind your chair and grabbed your bag, rummaged through it. Deft fingers uncapped your ruby red lipstick and drew a Black Dahlia smile on his lips, extending from one clean-shaven cheek to the other. “Now, close your eyes.”

You did as he asked, placing full trust in him. You expected him to draw a similar smile on you; instead, he pressed his mouth to yours, transferring some of the makeup to your face.

The words I love you kept falling from your lips, muffled only by the hungry kisses you eagerly gave and accepted. Zippers were unfastened, buttons undone, clothes strewn across your office floor. For a moment, the only sounds were the soft moans and panting breaths that punctuated the silence. It was love, and it was perfect.

It all happened so fast.

You woke up the next morning to sirens blaring down the street, a never-ending parade of noise and flashing lights. There was no way Eddie had already done something to Jason; you’d just talked about it yesterday. Killing one of Hawkins’ most beloved citizens would certainly take more than twelve hours of deliberation.

If Eddie had struck, he wouldn’t have been able to escape unnoticed.

Black smoke billowed from one of the Loch Nora mansions, visible even in the less wealthy parts of town. You could hear your neighbors clamoring, and the consensus was that it was the Carver house that was burning to the ground.

You drove straight to the county jail, not even stopping off at work or letting them know you wouldn’t be in. The fear of being reprimanded paled in comparison to Eddie’s fate.

Flashing your government ID, you bolted through the doors and blew past the guards. Sure enough, Eddie Munson sat behind the bars of a cell, head in his beautiful hands. The same hands that had touched you just yesterday, fumbling with the tiny buttons of your blouse. The man who was larger than life during your sessions suddenly seemed so small.

“Puddin’?”

Eddie glanced up when he heard the nickname you’d given him. “Baby, I…I didn’t kill him. I tried, but he got out. Forgot that rich people have those smoke detector things,” he added with a wry smile. It was then that you saw that his mouth was still stained with remnants of your lipstick. “But when he ran out of the house it looked like half of his face had burned off.”

Of course he’d stuck around to see the aftermath of his destruction.

“We can talk about this later. Okay?” You lowered your voice to a whisper. “We’re getting out of town. And we’re never coming back. I’m gonna tell the guards that I’m taking you out for a therapy session. Just follow my lead.”

Eddie was uncharacteristically quiet, so much so that you worried the guards might apprehend him because he wasn’t talking. Their narrowed eyes followed you and Eddie until you exited the building.

“My girl is a natural-born deceiver.” Eddie laced his fingers with yours. “So proud.”

You laughed. “If they gave us any trouble, I might’ve had to knock them out with their own clubs.” When you started towards your sedan, Eddie tugged you in the opposite direction. “My car is–”

“Forget it. Leave it here.” His eyes scanned the parking lot. “We’ll take that one.” He clocked your confusion and let out a raucous laugh. “Al Munson may have been a deadbeat, but he did teach me one thing.”

You slipped your arm around his waist. “Looks like I have a lot to learn.”

“It’s gonna be me and you against the world, baby.” Eddie pulled you closer and whispered in your ear. “We’re gonna knock ‘em dead.”

#eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #angst #smut

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tubbytarchia · 10 months ago

Note

Thoughts on the dynamic between TIES Tango and BB Jimmy? Or even the silly rivalry they have in SL? There’s just so much adorable fluffy potential there and I’m just 💭

- 🧚🏼‍♀️

YOU'RE RIGHT THERE IS AND I LOVE THEM. SL ranchers are SO cute and precious its off the charts. Limited Life however...

Ok drawing that hurt a bit so I'm immediately following up with this

Limited Life is so carefree in general it's SO fun and probably the least angst material out of any of the Life series to me (of course there is still plenty, can't underestimate the traffic fandom's ability to find angst in everything) including Tango and Jimmy. They're so fun and you're right that it's a lot of fluff potential, mostly because Jimmy being a "bad boy" is so funny. BUT THE, MAN. TH The fact that this is the one after DL, after Jimmy so desperately wanted to apologize to Tango for how they went out and who knows if he got to do that or not. I love the idea of them reuniting in some temporary afterlife game or dark void following their deaths, but also what if they didn't get to talk... maybe it was only Tango's distant messages "you're still here? It's over. Go home. Go" that reached him and then he just didn't dare to talk about it other than the one time he instinctually called him "rancher" again. I can't help but be filled with angst when I think about LimL ranchers but I trust that where there is angst, hurt/comfort is sure to follow.... If not then I just die I guess

The bad boy sunglasses are very convenient to hide the look with which he gazes upon Tango from a distance... But then oop Tango hops through the nether portal on top of bad boy mansion and Jimmy decides to go for it, to try and harken back to how they used to be to gauge how Tango will react when he goes "The boogie's being chosen, you're here with us now, we have to look into each other's eyes!" (paraphrasing) and then he's like "oh Impulse is here too" lmao and then that's just kinda it. And then TIES blows up bread bridge and auughhghhh you know??? I'm so bad at expressing how I feel, sorry this is a ramble. But I love them so very dearly and I could absolutely imagine inconspicuous moments between them. Like whenever I think of potential LimL rancher fluff my mind goes to this one fanfic about Jimmy being sleep deprived and he just kinda ends up at TIES and Tango puts him to sleep. Stuff like that

And idk what more to say about Secret Life. Their little rivalry is so funny and literally idk if it's the fanart that has absolutely fucked with my head but every time I think about them I imagine them awkwardly flirting on complete accident and just being kind of weird but. very lovable. They had only two notable interactions and those two interactions left me permanently deranged

ANYWAY THANKS FOR THE ASK ANON

#team ranchers #rancher duo #tango tek #tangotek #jimmy solidarity #trafficshipping #trafficblr #I do not want to spend more time looking at the anatomy in that first drawing Im only gonna keep making it worse augg #but if it can nourish you rancherers then Im very happy #god I need to do other things but ranchers on the brain #always #tubby art

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lovelyverosika · 9 months ago

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I keep thinking about his angel eyes

Hazbin Hotel! Adam x Fem!reader

Part 3 —> Part 1 | Part 2

Warnings: talk about self hate

A/N: Here is the part 3 everyone wished for. I decided to make a total of 4 parts, so you sadly still need to wait a bit for the end :,) Like always I’m sorry for any grammar mistakes.

Y/N POV:

I found myself in a room similar to a movie theater. I’m not able to move a single muscle in my body. Suddenly a movie started playing, memories of my life in heaven or more specially about Adam and me. I smiled and felt all warm and fuzzy inside as the memories of our growing relationship were displayed right in front of me.

The first time we met, how we fought at work, how we began to spend more time with each other, our first dates and how he took his mask down for the first time. This may sound exaggerated but that was the proof of how much he trusts me and oh lord was he gorgeous. His golden eyes had me captured the moment I looked into them…his beautiful angel eyes. Nothing was more beautiful than seeing his true emotions reflect in them. Everyone knew him as "The first man" or the self quoted "Dick master" but I know it better. Deep down he’s a insecure soul who’s desperate for admiration and affection, especially after loosing his two previous wives to the same man.

Of course he was a total asshole when I first met him but he changed for the better and that out of his own will, that is something not everyone is willing to do. In a flash of seconds more memories were shown: Our first kiss, anniversary and lastly our wedding. It was a very magnificent day, I never ever thought I will find a lover let alone get married to someone. Everything was just perfect until the court accident today.

Suddenly everything went black. I don’t know where I am or what to feel, this is stranger than any dream or nightmare I ever had. I slowly stood up as a sudden blow of cold air hit me. I wrap my arms around myself as I start walking around in this strange void. All I can hear is my own heartbeat,breathing and the sound of my heels clicking on the ground. After what felt like an eternity I found a single white door in the middle of this nowhere.

Not knowing what else I should do I open the door and enter another black space with a single mirror standing in the middle. This is all so strange and overwhelming I couldn’t prevent myself from tearing up..pathetic that’s what I am. I took a deep breath and walked towards the mirror. I looked like an absolute mess with my eyes puffy from all the crying.

Suddenly the reflection changed in how I used to look like back then in hell. "Helloooo, redeemed or not I’ll always be a part of you.”, my reflection said. I was completely stunned…how is that even possible? "Do you remember what you used to tell your friends back then in hell? You said and I quote: You don’t need to be perfect to be worthy of being loved or deserving a better life. Everyone deserves a second chance and that goes for you too." My old self gave me a big smile and I couldn’t help but smile too.

In a way she is right but accepting yourself is much harder than people say. It takes lots of time, patience and willingness. My reflection gave me a look full of pity before she started to speak. "You probably think he will leave you, hm? Of course that can be an option but would he really? It’s like Rosie said it’s difficult to admit things you’re not proud of but you’re still you. The fact you used to be a demon doesn’t change the person you really are, the person he grew to love and cherish. It seems like we’re running out of time..it was nice seeing the person I became. You’re much stronger than you think.", she chuckled and waved at me. "Farewell Y/N..it’s time to wake up now. Emily must be going insane from how much she worries about you."

My reflection disappeared and left me with a warm feeling inside my heart. With a smile on my face I walked through the mirror and woke up in a bed, which must belong to Emily. In less than a few seconds Emily wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tightly. "You’re awake, I was so scared you wouldn’t wake up.", she said while sniffing onto my chest. I couldn’t help but smile, she’s such a sweetheart. "Shh, I’m here now.", I said while patting her back.

Part 4

#adam x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader

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itaintgojover · 3 months ago

Text

COMPATIBILITY TEST

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ feat. !Frat Boy! Gojo fucks you outside at his party. douchey gojo asks to see how compatible you guys are after you tell him you cant stand him. i wonder what he means...

-`♡´cw: 18+!!!! unprotected sex (be safe guys lol), creampie, oral m and f receiving, fingering, dirty talk, orgasm denial, mention of threesome, voyeurism ??, panty thief, drug usage

-`♡´word count: 3.8k

ps. i did not proofread this

The hot, bright beams slowly clouded your vision with dark green spots. The scent of sweat and pheromones filled the air while you and some stranger attempted to dance, but too far gone to worry if anyone was watching. It was simple: Night after night, the douchiest of the frat guys would hit you up and practically beg for you to show up at their “rager”. If it weren't for your friend constantly begging, you would spend most of your nights probably scrolling through your phone. This night didn't feel particularly different, not until you saw him.

Earlier

“Y/N pleaseeeeeeeeeeee, this is my one chance to get laid” Your friend cried out almost in tears.

“Shoko, come on. You said that every other night, we just finished with midterms. I'm fucking tired.” You groaned, exhausted from the weeks of studying.

“Hey, maybe you’ll find someone too. You haven't been with anyone else since Nanami. What even happened between you two, he was literally the perfect man”

The long dreaded question finally popped up. Your ex boyfriend- if you could even call him that- and you had split. He was indeed the “perfect man”. Nanami would always make sure that you were taken care of, always there for you on those late nights when you felt you had no one else. Ideally, you would have liked to end up with him, but unfortunately the stars didn't align for you two. You know he loved you, and you definitely loved him, but you weren’t the one for him, nor he the one for you.

The two of you had realized it early on in your relationship, yet decided to continue whatever you had. It was mutually beneficial, you both got to fill the void of a loved one without being exclusive. It wasn't until recently when you had felt the need to let him go, he felt like a safety net. You weren't ready to completely open yourself up to anyone, but you still wanted the comfort and understanding he provided. It felt like the right thing to do. He told you that he’d always be around if you needed him, and with that you were content.

“Listen, it's complicated. But me and him are on good terms, happy?”

“Somewhat, but I'm worried about you babe. I'm not saying you need someone to be happy, but you don't even seem open to the idea. I think it would be good for you to meet someone tonight. Just promise me that you’ll try, okay?”

The look in Shoko’s eyes seemed to be of genuine concern. You begrudgingly nodded your head in affirmation, although doubtful that such a thing would occur.

You hastily got ready, and you and Shoko arrived at the house. Couples on the lawn shamelessly displaying heinous acts. A myriad of trash thrown around, waiting for the poor sucker the next morning to pick it up. Upon entering it didn't get any better, the same as every other party you’d been to recently.

“Hey, Y/N!!!”

A voice suddenly calls your name and you whip your head around to see your friend Itadori along with your other friends Megumi and Nobara. They come over to embrace you and share pleasantries after not seeing each other for a while.

“Sooooooo, I heard through the grapevine that Y/N’s on the market now. Megs, I think it's finally your chance”

An obviously wasted Nobara says while elbowing Megumi in the ribs and receiving a playful punch back.

“Hahaha, yeah but don't worry, me and him are good. I think i’m gonna get a drink though I’ll be back soon”

You escape the conversation as soon as you can, the only way you would survive tonight was to get shit faced as fast as you could.

Hours go by, and instead of you being absolutely wasted, you’re watching Shoko play beer pong with random people who won't stop laughing. Shoko had-to your terror-informed you that your DD for the night bailed. She didn't outright ask you to be mom for the night, but her passive aggressive whines would say otherwise. Being surrounded by intoxicated people while sober was not how you were expecting the night to turn out. You leave shoko alone for a bit, attempting to go and find a restroom after all the soda you had. You wander upstairs passing at least three couples making out, and start rattling each door handle hoping to find a restroom. Most of them were locked or had a tie around the knob signaling that whoever was behind that door, was getting busy. At last though, one of the doors finally opened and instead of seeing the restroom you see a women straddling a man.

You stand there in shock for a moment. The man had his hand gripped onto the woman's ass, tenderly kneading the flesh beneath her skirt, while sucking on her tit ravenously. The two continued to grind onto each other seemingly not aware of your presence. The man’s gaze slowly turns to you and your breath hitches. Blue was all you saw. As bright as a summer day yet he seemed so far away. Almost as if there wasn't currently a women he was ravishing, all his attention was on you. His eyes remain on you while the women in his lap squeals and shoves her fingers into his snow, white hair seeking something to grip for stability.

The sight immobilized you, you knew you should have walked away as soon as you saw them, but something held you back. Your body subconsciously takes a step back creating a loud squeak from the floor to echo through the room. The woman all of a sudden yelps in surprise and covers her chest yelling an angry “get out” at you.

You rush out of the room feeling your face heat up at the sight you just witnessed. Something about the way his long, slender hands slid up her ass sent shivers through you. It was quiet a foreign feeling, you never would have thought you would feel envy especially over him.

Gojo Satoru. The well known president of the most famous fraternity on campus, Alpha Beta Kai. He was at the top of everyone’s “people to bang at least once” list. There was not a single girl or guy on campus that didn't want to be involved with him in some way. Stories about him reached far and wide, which is why you (who tried your best not to involve yourself with drama) even knew about him. Last 4th of July, the guy has supposedly fucked every girl apart of the sorority next door, Kappa Deltha Phi. Along with the rumors that he was part horse. There were many eye witnesses that came forward, sobbing saying they’d never find a man like him again. To you, Gojo Satoru was a mess who you didn’t wanna associate with. You knew you had mutual friends like Shoko and Nanami, who swore he was a nice guy deep down, but beyond that, you didn't hope for anything more.

Instead of dwelling on it too much, you go back to find Shoko. She's giggling over some dumb joke when she notices that you’re there and runs over.

“Heyyyyyy, Y/N. I missed you sexy, come dance with me”

She hiccups after that last words, and starts dragging you over to the dance floor where house music was playing. You don't even protest, too overwhelmed from what happened just trying to distract yourself. Shoko starts grinding up on you and you give in and do it back desperate to have some fun. The sweat and scent of cheap perfume suffocates you and holds a vague sense of nostalgia. No matter how many times you tell yourself that you’re done with these shitty parties you always come back. Sure, you could blame it on Shoko, but you could easily tell her no. honestly, it didnt make sense to you, but deep down you knew this cycle would keep continuing. All of a sudden, Shoko doubles over and starts gagging. Great, your night just keeps getting better. You place her arm over her shoulder and guide her upstairs to the bathroom (which you now know the location of). You do your best to look away while holding her hair back and assuring her that it’s okay. A ray of orange graces your eyes all of a sudden, and you swear that you cry a little.

“Oh my gosh, Y/N is Shoko okay??? Here, I got it from here. I can tell you’ve gone through a lot tonight.”

“Awww, Nobara i’m going to kiss you. You’re literally my angel, I’ll be back in a little i'm just gonna clear my head. It's been a weird night…”

Getting a sincere nod from Nobara, you walk outside to the backyard, where surprisingly not a soul in sight. You head over to a far couch and sit down for a bit. Maybe you would go inside in a bit, talk up some cute guy then head home. Hell, maybe you could even call Nanami, you know he would answer and rush over in a heartbeat if you even mentioned being lonely. It was tempting, the night would end on a good note and you’d have him to comfort you. The idea didn't seem too bad and you let out a little chuckle.

“What's so funny, voyeur?”

Holy shit. You turn to the voice to see Satoru walking towards you. When did he get here? Last time you saw him, he was almost balls deep in some blonde chick. Now you had to deal with the embarrassment of walking in on them.

“Nothing, just thinking. I’m sorry about earlier, hope you know I’m not a peeping tom or anything like that”

“I mean, if you asked nicely you could have joined. Haven't had a threesome in a while.”

Your eyes widen, surprised he would even insinuate that. Offended couldn't even explain how you felt, does this asshole really think you’d fuck him? He was delusional. Whatever feelings of envy or jealousy you had earlier were long gone, and you were prepared to get up and leave until he came to sit by you. the proximity between you was too close for your liking. You could see him. Not in the way you did before, every minor thing you wouldn't have noticed before was magnified. His perfectly, straight teeth and soft, smooth lips smirking at you. His soft, voluminous hair perfectly being pushed by the wind. His muscular arms being hugged in all the right places by the shirt he was wearing. His eyes. Seeing them up close was another experience entirely. It was almost as if you would drop to your knees right then and there. They gleamed with radiance and temptation, drawing you in the more you stared back at him. Hadn’t you known anything about him, you would have let desire overcome you.

“No thank you, you’re not really my type, plus I can't really stand you.”

Lies. You’re flat out lying, partially. It was true that you couldn't stand this guy, but he was gorgeous. But you couldn't give in and feed his fat ego even more.

“ouch, you're harsh. I heard from a birdie though that you and Nanami broke up, and plus the look in your eyes earlier said otherwise. I could see the way you rubbed your legs together, it's okay to admit you were wet”

He places a hand on your leg, seemingly challenging you. He starts to rub circles with his thumb on your inner thigh while continuing to talk into your ear. It didn't surprise you that he knew about Nanami, they were close enough to each other for him to have mentioned it.

“I would really enjoy myself with a pretty girl like you. I know you don't like me, but that's okay. Doesn't mean we aren't compatible in other ways.”

His hand trails up even higher, climbing further and further towards your drenched cunt. You wished desperately that his words didn't have any affect on you, but they did. There was a war happening in your mind. Did you really wanna fuck this guy and give him something to boast about? The sensible part of your brain was screaming at you to leave and leave him but hurt, but when he was this close to you and saying all the right things, how could you refuse?

“Prove me wrong then.”

As soon as the words come out of your mouth, he gives you a boyish grin and extends out to litter nibbles up and down your neck. Obviously intending to leave marks, but you couldn't even bring yourself to care in that moment. Satoru brings his hand up to your panties and starts to slowly palm you. The sensation against your clit makes you release a low sigh of pleasure. You could feel yourself becoming wetter the more time went by between you- if that was even possible. Sensing your neediness and urge for more, Satoru chuckles and lays you flat against the couch. The fabric from your skirt slowly slides down your legs and then he quickly discards it, leaving you completely vulnerable. A burst of panic runs through you, you exposed outside. Anyone could come outside and see you in this compromised position.

“Don't worry your pretty little head, those fuckers are so shit faced I doubt they’ll come out here”

It eased your worries a little to hear him say that, but you were still on edge. You were taken out of your thoughts though when he bites onto the fabric of your panties above your hip bone, and takes them off with his porcelain teeth. He was taking his time playing with you, and you were unsure of whether to simply enjoy it or punch him in the face. Satoru brings his face close to your pussy, he blows a breath of air right at your clit making you tense up. He laughs at your response then places a tender kiss on your fold. Following it along with licking a stripe on the other, touching everywhere but where you wanted him.

“Satoru, please I need it”

A vulgar whine comes out of your lips in frustration. He smiles at you before giving into your requests and lapping at the sweet juice your pussy had been collecting for him. As soon as he got a taste, he felt like he would cream his pants right then and there. Your whines had gone straight to his dick and he wasn’t sure he’d felt anything like this. He brings up a finger to your wet little entrance and slowly sinks in his long, slender finger earning a moan from you. The more he slides in the more you see stars cloud your vision. You felt the need to close your eyes. Just looking at him made you feel like you would come from the sight alone. His eyes were playful and he would occasionally let out a moan while eating your pussy knowing the vibrations made you spasm each time. The wet squelching becomes louder the faster he pumps his finger while sucking on your clit. The combination of the two makes you wrap your legs around his head while panting and begging for more.

He pulls away sensing your impending orgasm and sits down with his leg spread, his bulge on display. You eagerly get up and crawl over in between his legs. Not wanting to waste any time, you slide the band of his sweatpants down along with his boxers, and your mouth salivates. It brings you back to the rumors about this man being part horse, you had never seen anything remotely as perfect. A large vein running down the side, paired with an angry red bulging tip that was leaking with precum. You slowly bring your tongue to his tip and lick up all the precum that emerged. Parting your lips, you spit all over his cock and bring your hand up to slowly jerk him. His breath starts to become unsteady the more your hand grips his shaft and sends chills through him. You gag a little the more you try to fit him into your mouth, you reach out to his hand and guide it to the top of your head. Satoru blinks a bit in astonishment but takes the hint right away and grips your head leisurely guiding your head up and down his cock. You feel him throb in your mouth the quicker he shoves you down onto him. The more he pushed you down the more you felt the urge to choke all over him, and the more saliva you produced. You could feel it dripping down all over your chin onto him, making lewd noises as you bobbed up and down.

"ohhhhhh fuck, Y/N. holy shittttt, just like that. such a good girl, sucking my cock nice and good."

hearing his whiny groans send a wave of realization over you. you were sucking the gojo satoru's dick. and he was fucking loving it. never in a million years did you think you'd let him see you in such a vulnerable state.

He pulls you off to your shock and bends you over the side of the couch. Realizing what he was gonna do, you arch your back and lean back to tease him.

"woah, patience now gorgeous. you want my big cock that bad?"

Satoru teases, slightly chuckling while admiring the view you give him and landing a light slap to your ass.

"mmm, need it so bad. please 'toru."

Egged on by your little nickname for him, he jerks himself a little before aligning his cock with your plush folds. He slides his tip up and down your entrance preparing you for what's to come before inserting himself little by little. The two of you release a groan of pleasure at the feeling of him sinking into you. As he bottoms out, he pulls out a tad then pushes right back. he continues this process, gradually increasing the speed. the more and more he pumped into you, you could hear the wet noises from him fucking you. it was driving you crazy, you never knew you could be so wet. you start pushing back against him, desperate for even more. he takes the hint and props up leg up to fuck you even deeper. you squeal from the pleasure coursing through your body. it felt too good to even think, you lay against the couch letting satoru take control over you.

A sudden loud creak brings you back to your senses.

"Yooooooo, dude did you see that hot ass chic playing beer pong. ughh, i needa tap that for sure tonight"

"hahaha, you wish. by the way, you seen satoru? That guy is usually always around during parties."

"hey, now that you mention it, you're right! Maybe hes fucking some girl upstairs or something?"

Two boys had come outside, and started laughing and talking loudly. They were close enough to hear, but it would take them walking around the corner to see you two. Terrified at the sudden possibility of getting caught, all the color drains from your face. This is it. These drunkard are gonna see you then go blab to everyone proudly about how satoru has "secured another body". Your immediate thought is that Satoru is gonna pull out and have you guys get dressed, but your eyes widen when he keeps going, if not faster.

He then pulls you up against his back and puts his hand against your mouth tightly. The grip he had on you was intense, one hand keeping your mouth shut while the other crept up to hold your waist against him. You can feel his hot breath against your ear, as he mutters

"Gotta keep you quiet, Princess. Wouldn't want them to see you acting like a slut, would we now?"

you nod your head in agreement, praying that they wouldn't hear you. the only noises heard outside were the loud conversation from the two boys and the obscene noises coming from Satoru rutting into you. It was a miracle they didn't notice.

Satoru picks up the pace, not being able to endure your tight pussy any longer. The feeling of your bare cunt dripping all over his cock sent him spiraling. He'd be silly to think he could last any longer. He brings his arm around your waist down to rub tight circles on your clit, stifling a moan when he feels you clenching hard around him. You cant take it anymore, muffling into his hand and squeezing your eyes shut when you come all over his cock. Feeling your orgasm, Satoru suddenly halted when he feels his balls empty everything they have into you. After a moment, he pulls out of you seeing as his come slowly starts to dribble out of your pretty hole. It burned into his mind, making him almost want to initiate another round.

You both begin to dress yourselves, and when you stand up to put your skirt on, you feel his warm come leaking out of you down your thighs. It makes you start to look for your panties but then you see him putting them in his pocket. He looks over at you and realizes that you've caught him and flashes you a toothy grin.

"Sorry sweets, gotta keep a souvenir."

You feel your face heat up in mortification. The idea of him keeping your panties would have overjoyed you, had you not imagined him doing that with every girl he's hooked up. you mutter a quiet "whatever" and sit back down on the couch refusing to look at him. In the end, you got involved with Satoru and as much as you hated to admit it, you really like it. You felt the couch dip right next to you and you realize that he came to sit next to you.

"hey."

you turn your head towards him, and he raises his hand up to your cheek to softly caress it. then lifts his head to place a swift kiss against your forehead.

"that was a lot of fun, lets do it again, okay?"

With that, he stands up and leaves, turning the corner.

"Oh my gosh! Whats up, Satoru??? Haven't seen you all party dude."

"I know, my bad. I was having a really good time, haha. Lets go back inside, hmm?"

You hear the three go back inside, as you sit there in silence thinking. Not once did he kiss you on the lips while fucking, but he gives you a forehead kiss after? What kind of guy is he, does he always get sweet with every girl after fucking their brains out? So many questions ran through your head, but there was one thing you were sure about.

You wanted to fuck Gojo Satoru again.

#help this took too long to write #been missing gojo a lot lately #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you #jjk gojo #gojou x reader #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo #jujustu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #jjk smut

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cheriladycl01 · 8 months ago

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I have just got into F1 and it’s fast become my autistic hyperfixation and I’m glad I’ve found writers like you! I was wondering if maybe you could write something for Nico? He’s my favourite! Maybe reader has a bad crash or something similar to your heat fic where reader faints into his arms/ has a febrile seizure from dehydration and heat stroke after a race? Just lots of hurt/comfort. No worries if it doesn’t inspire. Thank you for doing what you do 💕💕

The Toughest Race so Far - Nico Hulkenburg x Driver! Reader

Plot: After one of the toughest races of your life, you and Nico need to have serious conversation about your health.

A/N! 1) I'm hoping i got the right Nico and you didn't want Nico Rosberg! If you did, let me know and I'll right one for Nico Rosberg! 2) As someone with ADHD, i 100% get the hyperfixation and how much it grips you!

You were getting out the car, well trying to and your legs and arms refused to work. It was like they were actually glued to the seat. You just sat there, head ringing not really sure what to do and how to gp forward.

Some of the Stake Team come up to you, checking to see if you were actually alive in the cockpit or if you'd passed out. Your own team hadn't come and found you yet.

They start to try talk to you but nothings going in, and staying in so your communication is ineffective.

You feel void of anything and all the sounds around you are blurring into one. There's a numbness in your hands and legs that is burning but also non-existent, like numbness should be. It was confusing for your mind that had just gone through that uphill battle of a race.

It was like your body was failing on you and you could only sit back and watch it.

Eventually your team, of RedBull come over to you. Not that you could tell the difference between the Stake Suits and the Red Bull ones at this point, faces were just blobs right now and your mind couldn't comprehend colours.

They reach in to help lift you out so your stood up outside the car leant against the body. One of the mechanics has a hand resting on your arm keeping you steady while another reaches to take your helmet off and another goes for you balaclava that's covered in saliva.

However, the minute your legs are left to work for themself with out the support they starts to wobble. Your head starts to spin, and your vision blurs, the last thing you could remember being your body convulsing before you smacked the door where you continued shaking.

"Oh my god! Someone help her!" someone exclaimed as they saw you on the floor and seconds later a medical team that were already on their way heading towards you after being radioed by the team you weren't looking too great.

There were people flooding around you, one of them opened up your race suit that was drenched through.

"Babe?" a voice called as Nico jumped out his car spotting you thrashing on the floor. He himself wasn't feeling great from the heat either but you'd just managed to fight your way from P20 all the way up to P6 to get in the points.

It was probably the drive of your career having set the fastest lap, fastest pit stop and received driver of the day. Despite all the podiums, wins and poles you'd had, this was the drive.

He looked over you as they took you onto the stretcher as you were unresponsive.

"What's wrong with her is she okay?" he asks walking over closer to the medics that were surrounding you.

"We aren't sure but we need to get her to the medical tent right away, please go back to your team!" one of them says while they fit an oxygen mask around your mouth.

Nico spent his entire debrief not really concentrating on what anyone was saying, he wanted to be out of that room as soon as possible and to see how you were doing.

The minute that they concluded what happened in the race and how they can prepare better for hotter races as a team until the FIA but things into place, Nico was out the door as rushing past the Red Bull motorhome that was pretty quiet. They could all tell he was looking for you, and he just knew you were still with the medics from the look on everyone's face.

He rushed into the tent seeing you calmly sleeping but hooked up to a few different machines. The main one an drip, he knew you must be insanely dehydrated, and with your body temperature already struggling to regulate normally he couldn't imagine how much like hell that car felt to you.

"Is she okay?" he asks the nurse that was currently re-doing the braid in your hair that had gotten a little knotty under your helmet.

"Yes, she scared us all but she'll be fine. She's making a speedy recovery thanks to the doctors quickness and efficiency. She lost 6kg in that race which is very dangerous and she didn't drink anything at all during that race, so we've got her on some water and stuff that will pep her up. She had a minor injury to her shoulder where she fell but other than that she's okay. How long have you guys know she struggles to regulate her body temperature?" she explains and asks all in one.

"Since she karted, but she loves the sport to much" he chuckles. You'd talked about this with Nico a lot, you had to train your body harder and be stricter when it came to things like exercise and diets because of the condition.

Nico had said many times that it would be safter for you to stop racing all together but that had caused far to many arguments that he'd ended up on the sofa one to many times over.

He knew you loved racing, because he did as well and he hated when he had to leave the sport when no seat was available. So he knew it was something that wouldn't even be on the table for you to consider but he just wished you would.

For your guys' future, he just wanted you safe and at full health.

"She terrifies me when she gets into that car" he smiles looking down at your peaceful body.

"I can imagine, but ... I'm sure you scare her too. She struggles but I think honesty that makes her a better driver, she knows her limits and breaking points better than anyone. Today was a bade race that I cant see them doing at the same time of year ever again, and there may even be regulation changes that'll help. But ... take it from a career passionate woman. She wont give this up" she smiles to him and he glances down at you with his own smile.

"Oh I know she wont" he grins, taking your hand in his.

"Hey baby" he smiles as he sees your eyes flutter.

"Hey" you say back a little confused, looking around the room your in.

"You fainted and had a seizure" he explains grabbing your hand and rubbing his thumb over his knuckles.

"Oh, it was really hot in the car I don't think I ate before the race either because I felt sick!" you offer trying to explain why you were so badly effected.

"You weren't the only one that struggled, Alex, Esteban, Logan and a few others have been down here too. You pushed yourself a lot in that drive, but there's talks of the FIA making some changes for next year!" he explains.

"Mmm, I'm glad their taking action to make it safer for us!" you admit.

"I'm not even going to bother trying to convince you to retire!" he laughs shaking his head.

"We've talked about that before, you know I'm not ready yet. I've been given such a shot in Red Bull!" you smile, knowing he finally understood your view on your career.

"I know, I just worry about you!"

"I worry about you too" you say and pull him down into a kiss.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #nico hulkenberg #nico hulkenberg x reader #nico hulkenberg x you #nico hulkenberg imagine #nico hulkenberg fluff

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andreas-river · 2 years ago

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Hi I would like to request Ghost x König x reader angst/domestic comfort where the reader has a fight with Ghost, and König comfort them and after Simon cools of he joins in too

A/N: Hi, thanks for the request, I really hope you'll like it!

Warnings: polyamorous relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, description of female body, fem!reader, anxiety, fluff, a little of spicy at the end, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any MW charachters. English is not my first language.

There are rare occasions where all three of you were together, relaxing after long missions or from the wounds gained. All three of you have your own way of reacting, but Ghost was the most complicated, so to speak-you can’t blame him. Even König became much quieter than usual. This time, Ghost was not silent.

He was like a loose cannon, his strings vibrating furiously even if you laid your gaze on him. You knew that you were not at fault, yet that thing, those eyes filled with a raging fire, manage to send you straight to the edge. The air was too tense; it was hard to breathe-not least because you were the only one wounded after the last mission, and the cracked rib complicated everything, but the one sentence he uttered just before leaving the kitchen-where you were sitting sipping tea-was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“You should calm down.” he said, the tone of his voice low, as if muttering to himself, but the glance that gave you with the corner of his eyes said otherwise.

“Me?” he stood still at your voice, barely moving his head toward you. “You’re the one who’s roaming around the house like...”

“Like what?” his eyes were cold while staring back at you, his body completely turned to face you.

The words died in your throat. The stinging pain on your chest made your breath even more ragged. It wasn’t the first time like that, having not Simon in front of you, but only the ghost of himself looming around: it wasn’t anyone’s fault, but you were too sensitive lately at his behavior, making it painful even if it was only a small talk. And now you didn’t even care anymore to hold yourself, to swallow the lump in your throat and act as if nothing had happened.

“You aren’t the only one’s hurt here Simon, and not only physically..” your emptied lungs blocked your voice, not even realizing the tears streaming down your face, feeling their saltiest taste on your lips.

You rushed to the door of the bathroom, leaving Simon alone, his mind now racing with too many thoughts.

You heard him walking; the steps getting closer to the bathroom’s door, staying in front of it for second, minutes maybe? Who knows. Only when you heard him walking away, you finally let te tears go, your chest burning from the pain caused by the crying.

Those were rare situations. Simon wasn’t that furious, but somehow a cold side of him was omnipresent, putting you down mercilessly in a void full of regrets. It was his fault? Or yours? Technically, you answered him back, but in front of you didn’t have Simon, and yet, that question echoed in your head like a broken record.

“Like what?”

Nothing came out of your mouth. The truth is, you just said something even if it was nonsense, just to make him talk, just to take him out from his own pain. This time, unsuccessfully.

“I’m back!”

You froze, hearing König’s voice coming from the living room, but without obtaining any answers. You try to recompose yourself, but the mirror showed you in awful conditions: red puffy eyes, cheeks wet from the tears, all your body still shaking and stiffened from the nervousness.

You drag yourself outside, slowly walking and facing König, his blue eyes filled with concern.

“Liebling*... what’s wrong?” he runs to you, cupping your face, wiping away some tears from your eyes.

He takes you to the couch, sitting on it while leaning his arm on your waist, your head resting on his shoulder trying to calm down your crying. König remained silent and waiting for you to talk.

“It’s.. probably my fault. I-I was too nervous, I just can’t stand it and I think I’ve... lose it, even-" you started sobbing again, but König stopped you, barely understanding what’s going on.

Only your sobs can be heard in the room, your eyes filled with tears blurred your vision. You feel a weight on the other side. Another presence joined you and König on the couch. You feel two hands- Ghost’s hand on your hands, soaked from your own tears. He grips them tightly, forcing you to meet his eyes: they were red, he definitely cried too; but you didn’t know that after you ran away from him, he soon realized his mistake. He tried to move, but nothing happened. Everything around him buzzing while he heard your muffled cries from the bathroom. His heart shattered in a million pieces, a dull ache in his chest drowning him.

He knew he wasn’t easy. He always had trouble managing himself, and now he hurt you in his worst moment.

But you were hugging him.

“Simon, I-“

“Shush,” he gently pulled you even closer, your face completely immersed in his shirt, while feeling König’s hand gently stroking your back. “It’s not your fault-“

“It’s okay, really.” This time you stopped him, your throat burning with every word you say. “Everything’s okay.”

That’s when you heard König moving behind you, his chest resting against your back, nuzzling his nose on the hollow of your neck, his arms surrounding your chest, squeezing your breast on purpose.

Simon gently stroked your hair, pressing his lips on yours, his warm breath like a light breeze on your face.

“The bed would be a better place...” König whispered in your ear, making you giggling, goosebumps all over your skin.

You smile, giving him a quick kiss. “Well, you’re right...”

*Liebling: darling

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shitsndgiggs · 3 months ago

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Can you make a fic where the reader leaves kenan because he barely spends time with her and would rather hang out with his friends. He later regrets this and tries to win her back

I’LL CHANGE - KENAN YILDIZ

He says he’ll change for you

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

It had been a long time coming, but the moment I walked out of Kenan's apartment, my heart felt like it was shattering into a thousand pieces.

The tension between us had been building for weeks, and I could no longer ignore the nagging ache that grew every time he chose his friends over me.

It wasn’t always like this. When we first started dating, it felt like we were inseparable. Every spare moment he had, he spent with me, and I fell so deeply in love with the way he made me feel like I was the center of his world.

But slowly, things changed. His football career took off, and with it, the demands on his time increased.

At first, I understood. I knew how important his career was to him, and I was proud of everything he was achieving. But as time went on, it became clear that I was no longer his priority.

Plans were canceled at the last minute, texts went unanswered for hours, and more often than not, I found myself alone while he was out with his friends, laughing and living a life that I wasn’t a part of.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want him to have fun or enjoy time with his friends—it was the fact that he never seemed to make time for me anymore.

I tried to talk to him about it, hoping that he would see how much it was hurting me.

But every time, he brushed it off, promising that things would get better, that we would find more time for each other.

I clung to those promises, hoping that one day he would follow through. But nothing changed. The empty promises piled up until I couldn’t take it anymore.

And so, with a heavy heart, I made the decision to leave. I didn’t even bother packing up all my things—I just grabbed what I needed and left a note on the kitchen counter.

As I walked out the door, the tears I had been holding back finally spilled over, and I found myself sobbing in the hallway, my chest heaving with the weight of what I had just done.

For the first few days, I waited for him to come after me, to call or text and tell me that he was sorry, that he wanted to fix things. But the silence was deafening.

I knew he was probably out with his friends, not even noticing that I was gone. And that hurt more than anything else.

Weeks passed, and I did my best to move on. I focused on myself, spending time with my own friends, trying to fill the void that Kenan had left behind.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness that lingered in my heart. I missed him—desperately. But I couldn’t go back, not when I knew that nothing would change.

Then, one evening, just as I was starting to feel like I might be able to heal, I got a text from him.

It was late, and I was lying in bed, scrolling through my phone in an attempt to distract myself from the loneliness that had become my constant companion.

Kenan: Can we talk? I’m outside your place.

My heart skipped a beat as I stared at the message. I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the screen as I debated whether or not to respond.

Part of me wanted to ignore him, to pretend that I hadn’t seen the message. But another part of me—the part that still loved him—couldn’t resist the pull of seeing him again.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I typed out a quick response and hit send.

Me: I’ll be right there.

I threw on a sweater and slipped into my shoes, my heart pounding in my chest as I made my way to the door.

When I stepped outside, there he was, leaning against his car with his hands shoved into his pockets, his eyes downcast.

He looked up as I approached, and the sight of his tired, regretful expression nearly broke me all over again. For a moment, neither of us spoke, the tension hanging heavy in the air.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice hoarse. “I know I messed up. I should have been there for you more, and I wasn’t. I just… I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you until you were gone.”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my emotions in check. “Kenan, it’s not just about being sorry. It’s about changing. I can’t keep going through this with you, waiting for things to get better when they never do.”

“I know,” he whispered, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I’m begging you… please, let me make it up to you. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

My heart ached at the sincerity in his voice, and for a moment, I was tempted to give in, to let him back into my life and hope that this time, things would be different.

But then I remembered all the nights I spent alone, all the times he chose his friends over me, and the pain that came with it.

“I don’t know if I can trust you not to hurt me again,” I said softly, my voice trembling with the weight of the truth.

His face crumpled, and a tear slipped down his cheek. “Please,” he pleaded, stepping closer. “I know I messed up, but I can’t lose you. I’ll prove it to you—just give me a chance.”

Seeing him like this, so vulnerable and desperate, made my resolve waver. But deep down, I knew that I couldn’t keep putting myself through this.

I had to choose myself, even if it meant walking away from the person I loved.

“I’m sorry, Kenan,” I whispered, my own tears finally spilling over. “I can’t do this anymore.”

I turned to walk away, but he reached out, grabbing my hand and pulling me back. “Please don’t leave,” he choked out, his voice breaking. “I’ll do anything… just don’t leave me.”

I closed my eyes, trying to block out the sound of his voice, the feel of his hand gripping mine. But it was no use. I was too weak, too in love with him to resist. Slowly, I turned back to face him, my heart torn in two.

“Kenan…” I began, but before I could finish, he pulled me into his arms, holding me so tightly that it felt like he was trying to fuse us together.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against my hair, his voice filled with so much pain that it made my chest ache. “I’m so sorry.”

And in that moment, I couldn’t fight it anymore. I buried my face in his chest, letting the tears flow as he held me close.

Maybe we were toxic, maybe we were doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over again. But right now, all I knew was that I couldn’t let go of him, no matter how much it hurt.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice breaking as he kissed the top of my head. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” I whispered back, my voice barely audible as I clung to him, unable to let go. “But this has to change, Kenan. I can’t keep going through this.”

He nodded, his grip on me tightening as if he was afraid I would disappear if he let go. “I’ll change,” he promised, his voice filled with a desperate sincerity. “I swear I’ll change.”

#football imagine #football x reader #turkiye #kenan yildiz x reader #kenan yildiz

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idlestxrs · 26 days ago

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Casual (Part 1 of 2) - Max Verstappen x Male!Reader

angst, toxic situationship, mentions of sex for like 3 seconds i wanted to fujoshi the fuck out

Max walked out of the garage enraged. Why did the media have to try to dig into his business like that? Into your business? Of course he denied all the rumors and questions you were both anything more than friends, because you weren’t. However, he probably would have worded it better than his knee jerk response that flew out of his mouth that, in turn, made you feel like shit. He tried everyday to convince himself that’s all he viewed you as anyway.

You were only supposed to be his teammate, then you both became friends that led to things going beyond a point of doing things people that only considered each other friends would do.

The multiple times both of you were caught checking each other out by the other person that led to this entire mess. All the hugs, kisses, slow and rough sex. Things Max tried convincing himself meant nothing but to fill a void. He knew deep down though, that every single thing meant something. Especially when he held you snugly in his arms at night and you were asleep with your head against his chest.

You on the other hand had known you’d fallen for him and you didn’t fight it at first, but now you wish you could start all over and stop yourself while you were ahead.

Everything started feeling like just a casual, one call away when he felt lonely type of relationship. If you even wanted to call it one. It was a general understanding that Max didn’t want to come out like you had because of his reputation, but the fact he seemed to come and go as he pleased made everything feel so one sided.

Enough was enough. You were angry and hurt. You knew you deserved better no matter how much you loved him. Tears welled up in your eyes as you stormed after him.

“Why the hell would you say it like that? Am I that repulsive to you? Because you don’t act like it when you’re desperate for someone to give you attention at night.” Your tears went away for now, being replaced by pent up anger not just from today, but for the months this had been going on.

Max froze realizing you were shouting this where people could hear that probably shouldn’t. “Y/N. I understand you’re really upset with me, but please, let’s talk about this somewhere else. You know-” Max tried to calm you down, but you cut him off. “Yes I know. Let’s just go then.” You yelled as you stormed off to your car, glaring at him as he got into his. Not a single word was said the whole walk to his front door, but as soon as that door shut, everything picked right back up. “Why the hell did you say it? Why would your response to being asked if we were more than friends be what you said. Go ahead. Repeat it.” You crossed your arms and practically scolded him. “I’m sorry Y/N. What I said was beyond stupid, okay? I’m sorry that I said even if I was gay that I wouldn’t date you because you aren’t my type at all. I realized after I said that, it would hurt your feelings.” He sighed, mentally scolding himself in the process for being such an idiot. “Do you realize how shitty that makes me feel? I’m so tired of how you treat me so differently around different crowds of people. It makes no sense to me. To the press I’m the ass of all of your jokes. To your friends I’m just something casual so you can understand your sexuality better.” You began to get choked up on your words. You didn’t even realize how badly he’d hurt you until everything you’d been feeling was being spoken straight to his face. “When we’re alone or with your family though. I see a different side of you. You tell your parents I’m your best friend. Your mom adores me. Then, when we’re alone at night and we’ve been making out or we’ve had sex, you hold me like I’m your entire world. Whenever the sun comes up you’re gone. You completely change and act awkward around me until you’re wanting something.” Tears began falling from your eyes as the anger seeped out of your mouth with them. Max winced at your words. They stung because he knew everything you said was true. He treated you like shit. All because he was insecure inside about feeling the way he felt about you. He’d fallen harder than you could’ve even imagined and he was hating himself for it.

“Y/N, you’re not someone I’m using to figure out my sexuality. I’m just telling my friends that because I’m not ready for them to know the true extent of what we have, just in case something slips. Neither do I want the public having any ideas. I don’t want to lose my dream or sponsors or anything like that. Is that so wrong of me?” Max became extremely defensive all due to you being able to leave him feeling so guilty for how he’d been treating you. “It’s crazy that we’re racing for the same team, with most of the same sponsors, and I’m out. I’m not saying you have to come out. That’s something you should only do when you’re ready, but dammit Max your reputation should not come at the expense of my heart being stabbed every time you get scared that your feelings are getting too deep.” You took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. “If this isn’t going to go anywhere serious, we just need to cut it out. It’s killing me. This would be one thing if we were actually together and you were trying to cover it up until you were ready, but the fact you’ve said to my face, while we’re alone, that this is all just something casual, makes me feel like everything you’re telling me right now is bullshit. ” Max felt his heart drop. He didn’t want any of this to end, but he was horrified of his public image changing at all. He was feeling ashamed of himself for being so selfish.

“It’s just easier to say we’re casual. I’m not sure what I feel, but nothing I’ve said is a lie.” Max snapped. He didn’t like that you were so onto how he felt. He didn’t even understand why he was so scared for you to know he had fallen for you. He just couldn’t accept the fact he’d fallen for, not just any guy, but his teammate. “Easier to be casual when you hold me the way you do? You really want me to sit here and believe that’s the truth? And even if it is, why the fuck would you lead me on like this? I can’t do this shit anymore.” You stormed out, slamming the door behind you. As soon as you heard the bang of the door, tears poured down your face as you booked it to your car. Max stood there realizing how badly he’d fucked up. Something about the door slamming and hearing you cry from outside knocked something into him that probably came a second too late.

“Fuck!” Max punched the wall after you’d left. He tried to call you but it just went straight to voicemail. He deserved it, and he knew you deserved better than what he’d put you through. It didn’t change the fact that he was crying in on his sofa all alone, wishing he could change things. He only had himself to blame now that you were gone, and knew when he saw you in the Red Bull garage again you’d do everything to ignore him. He stared at the ceiling until he got snapped out of his thoughts by a notification on his phone. A text from you.

“You won’t have to deal with being around me and fighting your internal feelings anymore. I just gave up my Red Bull seat to Checo. I’m done with F1. I hope you continue to be successful in your career. Respectfully, I’m blocking your number after this. I don’t want to be around you anymore. It’s killing me every time we kiss to know we’ll never be anything more than casual. I need to move on.” He read the text and attempted to respond by telling you to wait before you blocked him. To give him the chance to fix it, but it was already too late. You blocked him as soon as you sent the message, he figured. Max hoped you would change your mind by the time he woke up tomorrow and he’d still get to see you at the next race in the Red Bull garage. He hoped he'd somehow get the chance to explain to you that everything the two of you did together meant everything and more to him. He tossed and turned in bed that night, feeling sick to his stomach/ The only reason Max even went to sleep was from how exhausted he was.

What he didn’t expect was to open Instagram when he first woke up like he usually did and be greeted by a post stating that you were leaving Red Bull Racing, and Formula 1 in general. “Red Bull Racing, Max Verstappen, thanks for being a great team for the past two years and Formula 1 for being some of the most fun I’ve had. I’m onto other things now, and I hope all the people who love and support me will follow me to my new career path. Checo, give them hell on the track for me. Love, your shining star, Y/N.” Tears stung Max’s eyes as he read the caption that was paired with some nostalgic pictures. Images of your first race, first podium and first win all shared with Max, and some other photos, old and new that evoked Max to cry.

Through his vision blurred by his tears, Max left a comment. “Thank you for being the best teammate I’ve ever had. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me. I’ll be rooting for you in whatever you choose to do with your future.” He finished it off with a heart emoji. He turned his phone off and hoped for a notification from you that he knew he’d most likely never get.

#max verstappen #verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen image #max verstappen fanfic #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x male reader #i wanted to fujoshi out #gay

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xxspringmelodyxx · 5 months ago

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That Girl’s A Liar~

Satoru Gojo x F!Reader

Here is part III! I hope you all enjoy<333 Part I Part II

The school bell rang, signaling the end of the day. I headed towards the library, where Kai and I had planned to meet up and go over his strategy to ask Amai out. My mind was still buzzing with thoughts of Toru and the missed chance to talk to him earlier. It had been such a strange, disheartening day. For the first time since we became friends, Toru and I hadn’t exchanged a single word.

We never even crossed paths, our schedules seemingly conspiring to keep us apart. That or we were just too busy with school work to talk. It felt as if a crucial part of my day was missing, leaving an empty void that gnawed at me. The absence of our connection cast a shadow over everything, making the day feel unusually long and painfully lonely.

Entering the library, I spotted Kai at a table near the back, surrounded by books and notes. He looked up and waved me over with a relieved smile.

“Hey, Y/N!” Kai greeted me. “Thanks for coming. I really need your help with this science project, and… you know, the other thing.”

“Of course,” I replied, setting my bag down and pulling out my notebook. “Let’s get started.”

As we began reviewing the material, I noticed Toru entering the library. He paused at the entrance, his eyes scanning the room. When he saw me and Kai sitting close together, his expression shifted. Instead of approaching, he decided to observe from a distance, his curiosity and jealousy piqued.

“So…do you think Amai likes coffee or tea better? I’m thinking about asking her if she’d like to get something with me sometime this week…or maybe next week.” Kai asked, glancing at his notes to mask the question.

I leaned in, whispering back, “Probably tea. She seems like a tea person.”

Kai chuckled, shaking his head. “You think so? What makes you so sure?”

I gasped dramatically, placing a hand over my heart in an exaggerated manner. “You doubt my finely honed abilities to discern whether someone prefers coffee or tea? That is blasphemous!” I declared with mock seriousness, a playful glint in my eyes. “My skills in beverage detection are unparalleled. I can read the subtle signs and nuances of a person’s taste preferences with unmatched precision.”

Kai laughed, leaning back in his chair. "Alright, alright, I believe you. I just want to make sure I do this right. I don’t want to mess up any opportunities given to me."

I smiled reassuringly, leaning in a bit closer. "You won't mess this up, Kai. Just be yourself and show genuine interest in her. Trust me, Amai will appreciate the effort and sincerity. And remember, you've got me in your corner to help you out."

Kai's expression softened, his nervousness giving way to a grateful smile. "Thanks, Y/N. That means a lot. I guess I just need to relax and take it one step at a time."

I nodded, feeling a surge of warmth from our friendship. "Exactly. And who knows, maybe this will be the start of something really great for you."

Toru found a spot behind a bookshelf where he could watch us without being seen. He noticed the way Kai leaned in close, and how I responded with a smile and a laugh. His grip on his bag tightened as he tried to make sense of our interaction.

We both giggled at our own seriousness, finding some levity in the situation. Toru, catching the intimate nature of our conversation but not the details, felt his jealousy deepen. He struggled to maintain his composure as he watched us from the shadows.

“What the hell could he be saying to make you smile like that?” He thought

Kai nudged me, his voice low. “Do you think Amai likes science fiction? I’m thinking of recommending a book.”

I leaned in closer, whispering, “Yeah, I think she does. She mentioned something about liking scientific settings in our last class. Maybe you should talk with her about what her favorite book is or something amongst those lines.”

Toru’s eyes narrowed as he watched us, feeling a pang of jealousy. The way we were huddled together, whispering and laughing, was unsettling for him. What was going on between you two?

Kai looked at me with a mixture of hope and nervousness. “Do you think it’s too soon to ask Amai about her favorite books?”

I shook my head, smiling reassuringly. "Not at all. In fact, asking about her favorite books is a great way to show you’re interested in her likes and dislikes. It will make her feel appreciated."

Kai’s face lit up with relief. "Right. You’re right… I just… I don’t want her to think I’m some sort of creep."

I laughed, rubbing my hand on his shoulder, trying my best to reassure him. "For asking her about her favorite book? Kai, I think you’re being too hard on yourself. You aren’t going to sound like a creep as long as you don’t ask too many personal questions. Just keep it simple!"

Kai nodded, a smile spreading across his face. "Okay, got it. Keep it simple and genuine."

I patted his shoulder encouragingly. "Exactly. You're going to do great, Kai. Like I said, just be yourself and let the conversation flow naturally. Amai will see the real you, and that's what matters most."

He took a deep breath, seeming more at ease. "Thanks, Y/N. I really appreciate your help. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

I grinned, feeling the bond of our friendship strengthen. "Anytime, Kai. I'm always here for you. Now, let's get back to this science project and make sure we ace it."

As you two continued discussing both the science project and Kai’s plans for Amai, Aksana entered the library. She spotted Toru almost immediately and saw him staring at you. With a determined look, she walked straight over to him, her books clutched to her chest.

Toru continued to watch you and Kai, his frustration growing as he struggled to understand your guys’ interaction. Just then, Aksana appeared beside him, noticing his distraction.

"Hey, Toru, can you help me with my homework again? I’m really struggling to understand it," Aksana said, effectively blocking his view of me and Kai.

Toru hesitated, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer. He wanted to focus on our interaction, to understand what was going on between us.

"Uh... sorry, Aksana, but I am actually—" he began, trying to excuse himself.

"Oh, please, Toru? I really need you!" she begged, sitting down next to him and effectively blocking his view of me and Kai.

He felt a surge of annoyance but forced a polite smile, trying to be nice despite his reluctance. "Alright, Aksana. What do you need help with?" he asked, though his thoughts were still preoccupied with me and Kai.

I glanced over, catching a glimpse of Toru and Aksana together. My chest tightened as I saw them, their heads close together as they worked on her assignment. The way his arm grazed against hers, the way his eyes looked at hers—it all made my stomach churn with an unfamiliar pang of jealousy.

Kai noticed my distraction and gently nudged me. “You okay, Y/N?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied, forcing a smile. “Let’s get back to work.”

We continued studying, but I couldn’t help stealing glances at Toru and Aksana. Every time I looked over, they seemed more engrossed in their conversation, making my heart sink a little further.

The image of them laughing together left a bitter taste in my mouth. The day that had started with a missed connection now felt even more complicated and heavy.

I glanced over again, catching a moment where Aksana playfully nudged Toru. He smiled politely, but there was something distant in his eyes, a flicker of the tension I knew he was trying to hide. Yet, the way they interacted still made my heart clench with jealousy.

Kai’s voice pulled me back to our conversation. “So, when do you think is the best time to ask Amai about her interests? I don’t want to come off too strong.”

“Maybe start with something light,” I suggested, trying to keep my focus. “Talk about school, then gradually bring up hobbies and books. It will feel more natural that way.”

Kai nodded, absorbing my advice. We continued to work, but my mind kept drifting. I noticed that Toru would occasionally glance my way, his expression unreadable. Each time our eyes almost met, Aksana would say something to draw his attention back to her.

Eventually, Kai suggested a break. “Hey, Y/N, why don’t we take a break and go to the café down the street? My treat for all the help you’ve been to me.” Toru’s expression darkened as he overheard Kai’s suggestion. The mention of our usual spot hit him hard. He watched as I hesitated, torn between helping Kai and the implications it might have for Toru. Maybe it would be for the best. It would help keep my mind off of him and Aksana.

“Sure, Kai. Thanks,” I finally said, trying to keep my tone neutral.

Kai beamed, completely oblivious to the tension. “Great! Let’s go.”

We packed up our things and headed out, leaving Toru and Aksana behind. Toru watched you both leave, his hand breaking his pencil in half from the jealousy and frustration he felt.

*****

I stirred my tea with my straw, struggling to drink it as I was lost in thought. My mind kept drifting back to Toru and Aksana, and the unsettling feelings it stirred within me. Kai took notice of my distraction and leaned in, concern etched on his face.

“What’s up, Y/N? You seem really out of it,” Kai asked gently.

“Oh, it’s nothing, Kai. Really,” I replied, trying to brush off my feelings with a weak smile.

“Come on, I know self-deception better than anyone. Now, what’s going on?” he pressed, his tone sincere and encouraging.

I sighed, putting down my straw and looking up at Kai. His eyes were filled with genuine concern, and I knew I couldn’t hide my feelings any longer. “It’s just… seeing Toru with Aksana today. It made me realize how much I miss talking to him. We didn’t even get to see each other at all today, and it felt so… empty.”

Kai nodded thoughtfully, a hint of realization dawning in his eyes. “Do you… like him?” he asked, a small smile making its way to his face as he saw me look away from him.

I felt my cheeks heat up, and I avoided his gaze, fiddling with my straw. “I… I don’t know, Kai,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, so you do like him!” he yelled, his eyes lighting up at the news.

“Will you keep it down, Kai?! The whole world doesn’t need to know!” I exclaimed, placing my hands over his mouth to muffle his excitement. My heart raced at the thought of anyone else overhearing our conversation.

Kai laughed, gently moving my hands away. “Alright, alright, I’ll keep it quiet. But wow, Y/N, this is big! No wonder you seemed so distracted today.”

I sighed, my shoulders slumping as I looked down at my untouched tea. “Yeah, it’s a lot. But just looking at him makes me feel so happy. His smile, his voice, his eyes…even his dumb jokes and antics make my heart flutter.

Kai laughed, making me look up at him.

”Why don’t you tell him?”

”I tried! But every time I try to, its like the universe always seems to find a way to stop it from happening.” I explained.

”Not only that… but stupid Aksana keeps butting in, so I can never get any time alone with him,” I finished, frustration evident in my voice.

As Kai was about to say something, he noticed the weather changing. The clouds began to circle around in the sky, making him look down at me with concern.

“Uh… Y/N?” he asked, pointing towards the outside.

I turned and rolled my eyes, realizing what was happening. “Damnit. Sorry,” I said, quickly taking a deep breath to regain control. Within a few seconds, the clouds disappeared and the sun began to shine once more.

Kai watched in awe, his expression a mix of surprise and admiration. “Wow, you really do have a unique and powerful cursed technique. I forget sometimes.”

I shrugged, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Yeah, it tends to react to my emotions. It’s something I’ve been trying to control better. But now Im seeing that I need to work harder on that…especially if something like this is getting to me.”

“Don’t feel bad about it. Love is a powerful thing. It can make even the strongest of people lose control.” He said, making me ponder.

”Listen, thank you for the tea, Kai. It was so sweet of you…but I better get going. I have some things I need to sleep on tonight. How about we meet tomorrow during lunch and we can go over the plan some more and you can finally get some interaction with her.” I said, quickly leaving the cafe, not giving him any time to respond.

As I stepped outside, the fresh air helped clear my mind. I walked all the way back to my home, my thoughts swirling with everything that had happened. Once inside, I went straight to my room and face-planted into the bed, letting out a long, frustrated sigh.

As I lay there, the events of the day replayed in my mind. Every missed chance to talk to him, every moment he spent with Aksana instead of me—it all seemed to point to one conclusion. What if the universe was trying to tell me something? What if Toru and I were never meant to be more than friends?

I shook my head, trying to push those thoughts away. I couldn’t give up so easily. I needed to talk to Toru, to clear the air and find out how he really felt. But the fear of rejection, of ruining our friendship, weighed heavily on my heart.

Rolling onto my back, I stared up at the ceiling, Why did things have to be so complicated? All I wanted was to be close to Toru, to share everything with him, to hear his voice….I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts. “Get a grip, Y/N,” I muttered to myself.

I don’t know whats going to happen to us in the future…but I do know that I am going to make sure I get alone time with Toru tomorrow…no matter what. I need to see him…and just him. With that resolve in mind, I closed my eyes and tried to drift off to sleep.

—With Satoru—

“I don’t know what the fuck to do, Suguru! It’s like he’s completely replaced me!” Satoru exclaimed, running his hand through his hair in frustration. The usually composed and confident young man was now a bundle of nerves, his eyes reflecting the turmoil he felt inside.

Suguru leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching his friend with a mixture of concern and sympathy. “Calm down, Satoru. Tell me what’s going on.”

Satoru sighed, pacing the room. “It’s Y/N. I’ve barely gotten to spend time with her, if any at all. She’s too preoccupied with that boy Kai. It’s like she doesn’t even notice me anymore. And seeing them together... it hurts, Suguru. It fucking hurts.” The words tumbled out of him in a rush, each one laced with the raw pain of unrequited love and the sting of jealousy.

Suguru nodded, understanding the depth of his friend’s anguish. He had witnessed the way Satoru looked at you, talked about you, even thought about you. He knew how much you meant to him. “Okay, first, you need to try and relax man-“

”How can you say that? You know how I feel about her. There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t think about her. I miss her so much…I love her so much.” He started, looking down at his bandaged arm where you helped him. The memory of your gentle touch and kind words only made the pain sharper.

”i just…I thought maybe she might’ve felt the same for me.” He said, his voice breaking in defeat. Suguru lifted himself off the wall and walked towards his best friend, placing a hand on his shoulder.

”Listen man, I get it. I know how much you love her, and maybe it feels like she’s slipping away. But I feel like all of this is just a big misunderstanding. Maybe there’s something going on between those two that you don’t know of.”

”Like what? Like them dating? Do you think they are dating?” Satoru interrupted, his eyes widening in fear at the realization. The mere thought of you being with someone else made his heart ache with a pain he couldn’t bear.

”What? No! I'm just saying that maybe there is more to the story than you think. You need to talk to her. You need to finally let her know how you feel. Maybe then…all will be revealed.” He suggested. To be honest, Suguru wasn’t sure what you were doing either. He could’ve sworn you were absolutely head over heels for Satoru just as much as he was for you…did he interpret your feelings wrong? Could it be true that you moved on from his best friend to another boy?

“It’s not that simple,” Satoru replied, his voice tinged with desperation. “Every time I get close, something or someone gets in the way. Trust me, I want to tell her! I want to be with her so bad, to just hear her beautiful voice, see her beautiful smile… but instead, I end up seeing her with Kai...and hes the one getting all of those things that I want. it’s like a knife to the heart.”

Suguru placed a reassuring hand on Satoru’s shoulder. “Then make her see it. Show her what she’s missing.”

Satoru's eyes lit up with an idea. “You’re right. Maybe if she sees me with someone else, she’ll realize what she’s missing. Maybe I need to make her jealous.”

Suguru’s eyes widened in alarm. “No, that’s not what I meant! I was trying to say that you need to be honest with her, not play games.”

But Satoru, being himself, was already forming a plan in his head. “Thanks, Suguru! You’re a genius. I’ll show her that I can move on too. Maybe then she’ll realize how much she misses me.”

“Satoru, you fucking idiot, wait—” Suguru began, but it was too late. Satoru was already heading out the door, determined to put his plan into action.

Ignoring Suguru’s protests, Satoru sought out Aksana. If making Y/N jealous was the way to get her attention, then he would go all in.

*****

It didn’t take too long before Satoru found Aksana. There she was, in the library, engrossed in a book.

“Aksana, hey,” Satoru said, putting on his most charming smile.

Aksana looked up, surprised. “Oh, hi, Satoru. What’s up?”

“Do you want to hang out? Maybe grab a coffee or something?” Satoru asked, trying to sound casual.

Aksana’s face held a sinister smirk. Had all the work she put into getting close to Satoru finally paid off? “Sure, I’d love to,” she replied, her voice dripping with satisfaction as she sensed an opportunity unfolding before her.

As they walked out together, Satoru couldn’t help but glance around, hoping Y/N would see them. Suguru’s words echoed in his mind, but he pushed them aside. This had to work. Y/N had to realize what she was missing.

Meanwhile, Suguru watched from a distance, shaking his head. “This is going to backfire spectacularly,” he muttered to himself. He could only hope that Satoru would come to his senses before it was too late.

”What the hell is he doing?” Shoko asked, showing up out of nowhere. Suguru looked down at her and shook his head.

”Something he's going to regret.”

—With you—

Well…your plan to get alone time with Toru plan went to shit. Weeks had passed, and you hadn't had a single opportunity to be alone with Toru. Each time you attempted to get close, someone inevitably interrupted—most often Aksana. It was almost as if she had a sixth sense for when you wanted to speak with him because she was perpetually by his side. The way she clung to him made it appear as though he were her boyfriend, the two of them always in close physical proximity. People around you even started saying how cute of a couple they would be.

If you wanted to talk to him before class, it was too late—Aksana had already walked with him to school before you even had a chance. Trying to catch him during lunch was futile because Aksana had preemptively whisked him away to a nice place to eat. Attempting to speak to him after school was equally hopeless since she was already monopolizing his time, ostensibly to get help with her “homework.” It was driving your emotions into turmoil, and consequently, the weather seemed to mirror your inner state.

Days that were forecasted to be sunny turned out to be rainy, and days that were supposed to be mildly windy saw unexpectedly strong gusts. There were even some days that would have a mix of both snow and rain. All because of you. Shoko, Kai, and Suguru quickly noticed the change in you and attempted to reach out, but you were so consumed by your own emotions that you began to shut them out. The frustration and longing were driving you to the brink of insanity, and you could feel your sanity slipping away with each passing day.

What made matters worse was that you started to notice how much closer Toru and Aksana were getting. Almost too close. You still remember the day you were in the lunchroom with Kai, preparing him to go talk to Amai, only to see Toru and Aksana leaving the school premises together. They were laughing with one another, their heads close as they shared a private joke. The sight made your heart ache, a deep, painful throb that you couldn’t ignore.

Kai, noticed your sudden silence, and he followed your gaze. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

You tore your eyes away from the scene, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you lied, the words tasting bitter in your mouth. “Just lost in thought.”

Kai gave you a skeptical look but didn’t press further. “Well, if you need to talk, you know I’m here for you, right?”You nodded, appreciating his support but feeling helpless. “Thanks, Kai. I appreciate it.”

As the days passed, the growing closeness between Toru and Aksana became increasingly difficult to ignore. They seemed inseparable, and every time you saw them together, it felt like a dagger twisting in your heart. You felt a mix of emotions—hurt, jealousy, and a strange sense of betrayal. Why was Satoru spending time with Aksana? Had you misread the situation all along? Did Satoru really not feel the same about you as you did about him? The thought was almost too painful to bear. You could’ve sworn he…you thought he…well maybe…maybe he just didn’t love you after all….

*****

The following day, you decided to go to the cafeteria to grab something quick to eat. You and Kai were close to being done with the science project, and he and Amai were becoming closer and closer each day. He managed to build up enough courage to take her out to eat, so you were left alone. Now, you had some time all to yourself to just relax. It was a rare moment, but it meant that you got to actually sit with Shoko, Suguru, and Satoru.

As you made your way, the cafeteria’s usual cacophony of voices and clattering dishes seemed to fade into the background. You spotted Shoko and Suguru sitting together, but no sign of Toru. You went over to the table Shoko and Suguru were at, and forced a smile, trying to shake off the sense of dread that had been gnawing at you. As you sat down, you heard Toru’s voice from afar. Your eyes involuntarily drifted to the direction of his voice and found Toru and Aksana entering the lunchroom, talking amongst themselves about something random.

They were standing close, their heads almost touching as they shared a private joke, their laughter mingling with the ambient noise but somehow standing out painfully to your ears. The sight made your stomach churn with jealousy and hurt, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil that had become all too familiar.

Every giggle from Aksana and every smile from Toru felt like a dagger to your heart. The way they seemed so at ease with each other, so effortlessly close, was unbearable. You had always cherished the moments when Toru smiled at you like that, but now those moments seemed to be slipping away, replaced by this growing bond between him and Aksana. It was a bitter pill to swallow, seeing someone else enjoy what you longed for so deeply.

Suguru, sitting across from you, noticed your pained expression and turned to look at Toru and Aksana. He scoffed in disgust, completely in disbelief at what his best friend was doing. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head in frustration. He couldn’t fathom how Toru could be so oblivious to your feelings, so wrapped up in his plan to make you jealous that he didn’t notice the hurt he was causing you.

Shoko, on the other hand, looked like she was ready to strangle both Toru and Aksana. Her eyes narrowed in anger as she watched them, her fists clenched tightly on the table. “This has to stop,” she whispered to Suguru fiercely, her voice barely containing her rage. She had seen the toll this situation was taking on you and it infuriated her to see her friend in such pain.

Both Suguru and Shoko had witnessed your frustration and heartbreak over the past few weeks. They had seen the light dim in your eyes and the smile that no longer reached your lips. It pained them to see you like this, to see someone they cared about suffering in silence. They exchanged a look, silently agreeing that something needed to be done to end this misery.

“Hey, Y/N,” Shoko said, her voice softer now as she turned her attention to you. “Are you okay?” Her eyes were filled with concern, and you could tell she was genuinely worried about you.

You forced a smile, trying to mask the turmoil inside. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you lied, though your voice betrayed your true feelings. The lump in your throat made it hard to speak, and you could feel the tears threatening to spill over, but you fought to keep them at bay.

Suguru leaned forward, his expression serious and earnest. “You don’t have to put up with this, you know. We’re here for you,” he said, his tone comforting yet firm. He wanted you to know that you weren’t alone, that you had friends who cared about you and wanted to help.

And you were grateful. Truly. But the emotions were overwhelming, and you couldn’t bear to delve into them any further. You sighed deeply and placed your head in your hands, trying to steady your breathing. “Can we not talk about this… please?” you asked, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. The sight of Toru and Aksana together was like a constant reminder of what you couldn’t have, and it was tearing you apart. You just needed a break. A break from it all.

“Of course...” Shoko replied softly, her worry for you still evident in her eyes. She exchanged a glance with Suguru, both of them silently agreeing to shift the conversation away from the topic that was causing you so much pain.

“Well, how about we talk about training then?” Suguru suggested, his tone lightening in an attempt to lift the mood. “I heard Sensei Yaga is having all of us go out later today for a practice exam on our form to see where we are at.”

Your eyes widened in surprise and mild panic. Was that today? Just when you thought you might get a break, now you were bombarded with the realization that you had to use your abilities to get a good grade. The stress of everything was beginning to weigh heavily on you, and the thought of the upcoming practice exam only added to your anxiety.

“Great,” you muttered, your voice tinged with sarcasm. “Just when I thought I could relax, now I have to worry about my form and performance.” You ran a hand through your hair, feeling the tension building up inside you.

Suguru gave you a sympathetic smile. “I know it’s a lot, but maybe it’ll be a good distraction. Focusing on training could help take your mind off things for a bit.”

“Yeah, and you’re really good,” Shoko added, her tone encouraging. “You always impress Sensei Yaga. Just think of it as another chance to show what you can do.”

You nodded, appreciating their attempts to cheer you up. “I guess you’re right. It’s just… everything feels so overwhelming right now. I’ll try to focus on the training and give it my best shot.”

As the conversation shifted to the details of the practice exam and various training techniques, you found yourself gradually relaxing. It wasn’t a complete escape from your thoughts about Toru and Aksana, but it was a temporary reprieve. For now, you could channel your energy into preparing for the exam and proving your skills.

The laughter and chatter of the cafeteria buzzed around you, blending into the background as you listened to Shoko and Suguru discuss strategies and tips. You took a deep breath, letting their words wash over you, and tried to find some semblance of peace in the midst of the chaos that had become your life.

Just then, your phone buzzed with a new message. Glancing at the screen, you saw it was from Kai. His words caught your attention right away.

“Meet me before our practice exam today. I’m going to finally ask Amai out… and to the dance… but I want to practice what I’m going to say. I need you to pretend to be her,” he wrote.

Despite the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling, a small smile grew on your face. At least someone in your life was going to have a good ending… hopefully. The idea of helping Kai with his romantic plans provided a glimmer of positivity in your otherwise turbulent day. It was a reminder that not everything was bleak and that happiness was still possible for those around you.

You quickly replied, typing out a response with a renewed sense of purpose. “Sure, I’ll meet you in our science class. We can practice there,” you texted back, feeling a bit lighter.

“Y/n…we need to tell you something. It’s about Satoru and what he’s been doing. Just please be ready to-“ Suguru started before being cut off by your voice.

“Hey guys, it was wonderful talking to you both… but something just came up and I gotta go. I’ll see you guys later today!” you said, not hearing a word they were saying before getting up and leaving, trying to muster the enthusiasm you no longer felt.

As you walked away, Toru’s eyes followed you, noticing the small smile on your face that barely masked your true feelings. His heart began to race with anticipation, a flicker of hope igniting within him. Were you finally going to come to him? Were you going to hug him and let him hear your voice that he had been longing for? He missed the way you used to laugh, the way you used to share everything with him.

Just as you made it a few feet away from him, your eyes locked with his, making both of you pause. For a brief moment, the world seemed to stand still, and all the noise of the cafeteria faded into the background. His heart pounded in his chest, a flicker of hope igniting within him. This was the moment he had been waiting for, the moment he had dreamed about during the countless sleepless nights. He wanted to reach out to you, to bridge the painful gap that had grown between you.

However, before he could make a move, you averted your eyes and walked in the opposite direction, directly ignoring him. He felt his heart shatter right then and there from your actions. The small glimmer of hope that had sparked in his heart was extinguished in an instant. Every step you took away from him felt like a crushing blow, each one more painful than the last. The rejection was a raw, agonizing wound that left him reeling.

“Y/n…” He muttered under his breath.

—————

Part IV coming soon!

Taglist: @goreedo11

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