#also the thing abruptly ended bc i had no idea how to end this so im sorry for that too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hypnagogics · 7 months ago

Text

before you read ▪︎ loose continuation to THIS

ultra loser!ellie x teasing(slightly sadistic tbh)!reader. reads fine as a standalone!! no fr sex, but still nsfw!!! loads of teasing, ellie's shy and flustered (also gave her glasses and piercings muahahah AND HAPPY TRAIL MENTION YAYYY), reader's a little insistent (but it's ok), mentions of masturbation, discussion of sex, REALLY horny making out at the end lol, heavy petting, they almost do it, tiny abby cameo, buildup AS PER USUAL YALL KNOW THE DRILL, kinda cliffhanger ending (its on purpose HAHA), different layout bc i cheated n looked at the poll oops...NGL TS HAD ME SWEATINGGG WRITING IT LMFAO don't think i have ever written something more horny....ok enjoy! + 2.2k wc

apparently both of you missed the professor's class cancellation email on this fateful day… other students showed up too, but they left quickly after seeing it was empty. ellie stayed to catch up on some work, enjoying the silence and typing away on her laptop, which looked like one of those beefy gaming computers.

covered in stickers and the keys changing color, you thought it was interesting she'd lug that thing around campus with her, instead of opting for something light and sleek. and now that leaves you. you had no other plans for the day, and had already mentally prepared yourself for this class, totally unaware it was canceled.

you realized it wasn't a bad idea to copy ellie, and catch up on some of your own work. however you were more intrigued by her, to be totally honest with yourself.

watching her from a distance, she captivated you. she never seemed to notice your stares, too absorbed in her thoughts. you watched her type, efficiently and quickly, pausing only to push her glasses further up her nose with her slim fingers.

the truth is, she's hot. but no one was hearing you out on that, unfortunately. they'd say to you, “what a loser! i don't think i've ever heard her talk.”

you felt overwhelmed by the urge to strike up a real conversation with her—more that simple greetings or coursework questions— and it was the perfect opportunity to do just that. so you got up, sat yourself down in the empty spot right next to her, and put on the most charming grin you could muster up. she abruptly snapped out of her focus, almost flinching at your presence.

“hey! you're ellie, right? whatcha working on?” you got close to her to see, being met with a bunch of hieroglyphic-looking strings of symbols on the screen. woah, smarty-pants. “um, it's just…some project, i dunno. how d’you know my name?”

she finally looked at you, her eyes round, wider than the ufo saucer stickers on the back of her computer. they were so green, the hazel ring reminded you of a polished agate stone. the scattered freckles on her face were so pretty too, you'd never been close enough to her to really take notice. she nervously scanned your features, blotches of pink blush decorating the apples of her plump cheeks.

she was so cute, and noticing her evident shyness flipped a switch inside you, what if you messed with her a little?

you shrugged at her, “just seen you around. you're so mysterious.” you lilt, manipulating your tone to make it smoother on the ears, even containing hints of seduction if you dared.

she blushed a deeper raspberry shade and looked down at her hands, fidgeting with her rings. she was somehow getting more attractive by the second, your heart felt like it was about to burst.

“am i? never thought of it that way, you're funny.” she mumbles, her antsiness obvious. but you didn't wish to let up so soon, you were having a lot more fun flustering her than you'd ever care to admit, even wanting to see just how far you could push her.

“ooh, i love your rings. where did you get em?” “just…places. why are you asking me so many questions?” you sighed and rolled your eyes, “well, ellie. we both don't have anything else to do, gotta pass the time somehow. i wanna talk with you, is that okay?” she took a deep breath and nodded, visibly relaxing. she stretched out her arm to get rid of the tabs on her computer, close it, and put it in her bag, which is when you got a look at her forearm tattoo.

“also i'm obsessed with your tattoo, you have no idea how cool you are, how are girls not all over you?” you question, taking her wrist in your hands and examining the tattoo's intricate line work, tracing your fingertips over the pigment in her skin.

you heard her breathing change in tempo, quickening ever so slightly. but she didn't move her arm away, and let you continue. she took a second to respond. “um. thanks, i guess. i don't really know what you mean.” her voice cracked when she said the last part, igniting a flame inside you, one that you didn't know existed.

your mind wandered, you began wondering what she sounds like when she whimpers. was she really so starved of human contact you could mold her like putty, just with your fingers and tongue? you wanted to find out so badly, wanted to hear how she'd cry your name out if you fucked her into oblivion. was she a squirter or a creamer? you hoped to the heavens above you'd get to find out someday. maybe it was too much to fantasize like this, considering you formally met just now, but you weren't hurting anyone if it all never left the confines of your mind.

you were lucky you hid your own arousal well, nothing out of the ordinary showed on your face whatsoever. ellie wasn't so lucky—to her dismay, but to your delight—everything played out on her delicate features so clearly, it was nothing short of delectable.

your eyes bore into hers, the intensity of the eye contact making her shiver, and attempt to break it. “ellie, ellie, ellie, may i call you els?” you didn't wait for an answer, and continued, “do you have a girlfriend?” you pouted your lips at her, feigning sadness as if her response was something you didn't already infer.

she was stuttering now, stumbling over her words, making less and less sense as the conversation went on. she was anxiously bouncing her leg, you could see her chest rising and falling, and her face had turned a lovely crimson color, it was so strong, the flush had spread down her neck and reached her ears, making her piercings stand out. good lord.

“ahem- no, i don't have a girlfriend. actually never have, shocking i know.” she chuckles at her self-deprecating joke, and while her smile was enough to light up a room, you wanted to slap the doubt out of her. or rather, fuck it out of her.

you exhaled loudly, “hahh, well isn't that a shame. you're so pretty, i'll just have to snatch you up for myself then.” she swallowed audibly, greatly taken aback. “sorry, what?” “oh, don't you know how much people love losers like you? tsk tsk tsk, you're so much hotter than you realize, i mean it, els. look at you! you've got these piercings, this tattoo, you're smarter than this whole class combined, seriously.”

she just gaped at you, unable to process what she was hearing. no one had ever talked to her like this, it was only something she read about. and coming from you? this ethereal person who starred in all of her most intimate fantasies? she rubbed her eyes roughly, convinced she was hallucinating. her mouth opened and closed dumbly, her voice box failing to produce any sound. but you were affecting her so much, especially because she lusted after you to an extent she could only take to the grave.

flashes of her midnight escapades flickered in her mind, of her shoving her hand down her pants like an animal in heat, orgasming so intensely she'd black out, abusing her hole with nothing but images of you playing in her mind, and your name on her tongue. her cheeks burned with the embarrassment of her wild actions, and she shook her head to clear the thoughts away.

you groaned and leaned back in your own seat, exclaiming, “god i'm so bored. and pent up, fuck. it's been so long since i had sex…” that was true. in any other situation you'd never say something like that aloud, but because you were alone with the clueless idiot you wanted so carnally, you let it slip.

“...maybe you should take care of that.” you heard her cough out, her voice coming out strangled. “i could. but that's boring.” you opened your eyes again and smirked devilishly her way, poor girl looked like she was about to go on a trip with the ferryman.

you grabbed her hand, examining it some more, commenting, “you play guitar, don't you? guitarists are very good with their hands, i will say.” you played with her hand, pressing it into a fist, then extending her middle and ring finger. gosh, what's gotten into you? “i bet you're sooo good.”

you've never seen a person look more flustered than she did right now in this moment. her voice was impossibly quiet, barely above a whisper, “cut it out.” “okay, fine.”

some beats of silence passed, but a thought crossed your mind. if she really hated this interaction that much, she could have got up and left eons ago, yet she stayed here and endured it all. hmm. you blurted out, “els, have you kissed anyone before?”

and again she stayed silent, even after you waited patiently for an answer. she kept looking away, her jaw tense.

you decided to quit the teasing just for a moment, and speak to her gently, genuinely. you shifted to sit a little closer to her and asked, “do you want to?” her gaze locked onto your mouth, she licked her lips, then muttered, “if you're really offering and not just fucking with me, sure-”

your patience broke and you didn't wait for her to finish her sentence before swiftly leaning forward and connecting your lips with hers, relishing the tiny gasp she made as soon as you did it. she tasted like a dream.

after a split second she kissed you back, it was inexperienced and clumsy, fueled by adrenaline, but she got into a rhythm soon enough. you took the lead and deepened the kiss, absent-mindedly tugging on her bottom lip with your teeth, coaxing eager whimpers out of her, pure music to your ears.

you succumbed to the sensations and increased the pace, your tongue dancing against hers. you felt her hands fumble by your waist, and she pulled you closer to her. your hands clawed at her chest, the beautiful symphony of panting, the wet smacking of your lips colliding, and her uncontrolled moans filled the empty room.

she gripped your waist so tightly, fingertips surely leaving small marks in their wake, you couldn't wait to find them later, and you shamelessly felt up her chest, your thumbs finding her nipples—perky, hard, and poking out through her thin shirt. you caressed and rubbed and squeezed, feeling her jolt under your magical touch.

she was fully whining now. spilling needy, high-pitched sounds, this was better than you could've ever imagined. neither one of you breaking the kiss for even a second, your hand trailed lower and landed on her stomach, slipping under the bottom of her shirt. you felt her defined abs tensing, and the whisper of a happy trail—now it was your turn to moan.

she got even louder and her kisses got sloppier, and you were about to venture inside her waistband before a sudden sound startled you both.

your phone vibrated aggressively, and with great effort you separated yourself from ellie, long strings of spit connecting you to her still.

she whimpered from the loss of contact, chasing your lips, then huffing and quietly groaning while you took out your phone, her hands not letting go of your waist. when you checked it, it was a message from your friend, abby, just saying: URGENT. COME HERE NOW. ASAP.

fuck her. fuck her and her timing, was all you could think. really, now? you wanted to kill her.

trying to slow your breathing and racing heart, you explained apologetically, “ugh, it's urgent. im so, so sorry ellie, i gotta go.” she stared at you, speechless, but nodded meekly, reluctantly retracting her arms. you didn't want to leave, and stayed gazing at her for a little longer, and brushed a loose strand of soft hair out of her face. what a cutie, she looked all disheveled and dazed. you were about to look for a paper to scribble down your number to keep in touch, until your phone buzzed again, and started ringing with abby's repeated attempts to get ahold of you. couldn't she wait a minute?

you gave ellie one last devastated look, getting up and rushing out of the classroom before abby called you another seventeen times.

ellie was left in the classroom, reeling from the encounter and what it had turned into. she was utterly bewildered at the events that transpired, her blood rushing in her ears, mind spinning, lips still puffy, glasses fogged over, hands trembling, and of course a sticky, uncomfortable damp spot in her boxers. she leaned forward to rest her head on the desk in front of her on top of crossed arms, to take a moment to cool down before escaping back to her place.

“holy shit.”

im horny🧍‍♂️just like ellie after that. as soon as she got home, u best believe she came so hard she saw literal angels and deities LMFAOO (this is my favorite thing ive ever written gawdDAYUM)

yall who wanted more, hope this suffices as a continuation! @stonerzdaze420692 @womenlvrrr

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moonlightspencie · 2 years ago

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reader x spencer + best friends to lovers + angry love confession — hear me out. literally everyone on the team can tell they’re in love & they even realized before they did. maybe one of them has started going on casual dates (and they hate every minute of it bc it’s not the spencer or the reader) bc of this, either spencer or reader start distancing them self from the other because it’s just hurting them to watch that. when they kiss one says “you don’t know how long i’ve wanted to do this” !!

okay it ended up being a tad different, but i still like the way it turned out!!! definitely still idiots in love lolll

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

—————

“What about you, mama? You got any weekend plans?” Derek asked you, raising a brow.

You smirked. “Yeah. I got some plans.”

His eyes widened in question, waiting for some elaboration. Spencer looked up from his desk, secretly curious to find out what you’d be doing.

Emily grew impatient. “Well? Are you just going to leave us hanging?”

“I’ve got a date,” you said quickly, smiling to yourself as the team reacted.

“Ooh, who’s the lucky guy?” JJ asked, leaning in closer.

“Y’all don’t know him, I can almost guarantee that. My friend Hannah set it up.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, burying himself back in his paperwork. Derek noticed, not letting that reaction slide by without some jeering.

“What? You jealous, pretty boy?”

Everyone’s attention was drawn to Spencer as he glared at Derek. You particularly had interest in the reaction he had. He’d been extra prickly lately, and while part of you hoped he was jealous because you wanted him to care, you also kind of liked the idea of him being annoyed by your actions at least once this week.

“Why would I be?”

“Maybe cause I can actually get a date, for one,” you chimed in, receiving a light smack on the arm from JJ.

You merely shrugged it off.

“I choose not to date anyone who comes along.”

You scoffed. “Keep telling yourself that.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, about to say something more when Derek broke it up, reprimanding you both for acting like ‘a couple of middle schoolers.’

“You started it,” you noted, leveling your gaze at Derek. “I was perfectly content ignoring his little huffy attitude.”

“I’m not being huffy,” Spencer said, staring you down.

“You have been all week.”

“No, I haven’t.”

You quirked a brow, giving him the ‘we’ll talk about this later’ look. He sighed, silently going back to his work. Everyone else decided that was about the time they should return to their own business, knowing better than to get in the middle of you two when you were mad at one another.

Near the end of the day, you decided to go and talk to Spencer about whatever was happening that was causing him to act the way he was. You started walking to his desk, though he abruptly stood and gathered his things.

“Spence,” you called as he tried to leave his desk. “Spencer.”

He ignored you. He really should’ve known you better than to do that. You followed after him, trapping him at last in the elevator.

“What is your issue?” you asked, your tone harsher than you intended.

He sighed hard. “I need to go home. I don’t have an issue.”

You stood in front of him, forcing eye contact that he was desperately trying to avoid.

“You ran away from me.”

“No—”

“Yes. You did, and everyone saw it happen so don’t even try acting like you didn’t.”

“Everyone knows your business already, what’s one more thing?”

You furrowed your brow. “Excuse me?”

The elevator dinged, and he started walking away from you. You pursued him quickly.

“Are you talking about earlier? You really think I was out of bounds to tell our friends I had a date?”

He stayed quiet, his jaw ticking as he pushed out of the doors. He was relentlessly trying to get away, but your willpower could certainly be stronger. You followed him into the parking lot, grabbing him by the arm when he tried getting further.

“Spencer,” you called out, clearly annoyed. “This is ridiculous. You’re going to talk to me about this now or we’re never talking again.”

He turned, staring at you for a few moments. He shook his head, anger on his features that looked deeply out of place.

“Why?”

“Because you’re acting like a toddler—”

“No,” he stopped you. “Why are you— You’re constantly going out. Why? You never did that before. Why now?”

You were taken aback, mentally and physically. You tried formulating an answer, though nothing quite provided a good cover-up for ‘I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you and I can’t stop thinking about you and I need to get over it’.

“Why do you care?” is what you settled for.

“I don’t know,” he exclaimed. “I just hate it.”

“Then why don’t you go find someone to date?”

“Because I don’t want to,” he said, matching the venom in your voice.

“Why not?”

“They’re not you!”

“Okay? Every person I’ve dated lately hasn’t been you and I’ve gotten over it,” you spit out, not quite realizing yet what either of you had said.

He geared up to yell back at you when his face morphed from anger to sudden confusion.

“Wait, what?”

You still weren’t quite sure why he looked so confused.

“If I can date someone and get over the fact it isn’t you, I’m sure you could manage the same,” you said quickly.

Oh.

“Wait,” you stopped. “What?”

“What do you mean they’re not me?” he asked, still questioning a little aggressively.

“What do you mean?”

His brain connected those remaining puzzle pieces pretty quickly from that point. His face dropped in shock, hands moving before his head could tell him ‘no’. He grabbed your arms to pull you in, hands holding to your face the second you were close enough, slamming his lips to yours. Your own shock faded quickly enough to kiss him back, your own hands grasping at his wrists.

You broke apart after several seconds, looking at him wide-eyed.

“You have no clue how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said, words practically tumbling from his mouth.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, still feeling in the mood to argue.

“You didn’t either,” he shot back. “You started dating people.”

“Yeah, dumbass, I had to get over you at some point.”

He rolled his eyes, then settled them back on your face. He took you in, a light smile on his face betraying him.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

You nodded. “Same here.”

Derek and Emily strolled out of the building, immediately spotting their two favorite idiots making out next to the government building in which they worked. Emily smiled, then looked at a shocked-but-excited-looking Derek.

She patted him on the shoulder. “You owe me twenty bucks.”

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#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid request #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #luna’s spence fics

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fear-less · 2 months ago

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Ok so I have a request///Sirius black x reader but reader is just really weird not like Luna lovegood type of weird cuz Luna love good it's like whimsical still weird but whimsical vibes but like reader it's kind of like mad Hatter vibes like for example show randomly start carrying a frog around on her head or she'll be in a conversation and randomly space out and then start talking about something completely off topic and really random Wonderland vibes so pretty much she's just really weird lol

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 puff

paring: sirius black x f!reader

➥ In which,Sirius Black finds himself captivated by the wonderfully eccentric (and slightly chaotic) reader, whose spontaneous, Wonderland-inspired ramblings and unexpected frog companion lead them on a whimsical adventure that’s as unpredictable as it is charming.

warnings: reader is a gryffindor (not mentioned but yeah), fluff ofc, whole lotta nonsense, reader is a #yapper, idk anything else..

a/n: this was way too fun to write, I love weird!reader sm bc lowkey... im the same way. cooked this up in like 2 hours.. ijbol🙏

1.7K words

Sirius Black leaned against the wall, in front of the potions class as class had ended merely ten minutes ago, his arms crossed and a smirk playing on his lips. He had been watching you for the last 5 minutes, not even paying attention to whatever James was telling him, trying to figure out exactly what you were doing.

You had just wandered in, miss matched shoes, with a small frog sitting happily atop your messy hair. The creature seemed to be perfectly content, its little legs dangling over your ear like a charming, offbeat accessory. You hummed a random tune to yourself, oblivious to the stares you were attracting.

"Is... is that a frog?" James Potter asked, looking over to Sirius.

"Yes, yes it is," Sirius replied, amused, his eyebrow raised. "And I’m starting to think it’s not the weirdest thing about her."

Although you two had talked no more than a few words to each other since first year, he had somewhat cared for you, maybe it was because he was the odd one out in his family and you're just the odd one out in the whole school..

You skipped over to the door where Sirius and James were currently standing, still humming your odd tune, and made your way into the class. The frog gave a tiny croak in response. Sirius shook his head, trying not to smile at your quirky nature.

He'd never quite figured you out. Not that he minded. In fact, he loved that about you.

The last time he’d tried to have a serious conversation with you, you’d abruptly gone off on a tangent about whether or not trees would prefer if humans walked on all fours, and if so, what kind of shoes they would wear. He had no idea how to respond. But that was you—weird. Completely unpredictable, like a puzzle with no instructions.

James and Sirius soon left when more and more people started entering the class. They made their way to the common room since they had a free period, which surprisingly was also their last class of the day.

An hour and a half later, you made your way to the common room and danced your way to the couch,a couch near where he and James were sitting, catching Sirius' gaze. Something about the way you stared at the fire, entranced, made him curious. He sauntered over to where you sat, leaning down to catch your eye.

"Hey, Y/N," Sirius said, his voice soft, "you good?"

You blinked up at him, your wide eyes almost glassy, as though you had just been pulled out of some distant, far-off dream.

"Oh, yes, of course!" you said, suddenly animated. "Did you know that turtles are like the original time travelers? I read somewhere that they can live for centuries, so... maybe they’ve seen things, you know? Like, really ancient things. What if they hold the secrets of the universe in their shells? Maybe we just need to ask them. Or—" You paused, looking at the frog, "—maybe this one has seen something, too. He looks wise. I trust him."

Sirius blinked a few times, unsure whether to laugh or just stare in disbelief. You were completely off the rails, but there was something endearing about it.

"You’ve got a lot of theories, don’t you?" he remarked, sitting down next to you.

You beamed, excited to have caught his attention. "Oh, Sirius! Theories are what make the world go round, don’t you think? Like, imagine if gravity was actually just a really strong magnet and the Earth was stuck to it like a fridge magnet!" You suddenly flung your arms out, almost hitting him in the process, but he ducked just in time.

"Careful, I don’t want to become the fridge magnet," Sirius teased, his lips curling into a grin.

"Of course not!" you giggled, your voice bright and airy. "You’re much too handsome to be a fridge magnet. I’d probably put you on the outside, though—just so I could look at you all the time, y’know?"

Sirius chuckled, but there was a softness in his gaze as he looked at you, the girl who could suddenly start rambling about frogs, turtles, or magnets at any given moment, and yet still manage to draw him in.

"You’re impossible," he said, but there was no real malice in his voice. It was affection, the way someone would say, “You’re so frustrating, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You tilted your head and grinned, that spark of mischief lighting up your eyes. "And you’re very charming for someone who doesn't seem to understand the power of a well-placed frog."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "A frog, huh? Well, tell me, what’s its power?"

You glanced up at the frog on your head and nodded solemnly. "It’s the Guardian of Puddles. In every puddle it rests upon, it can create a tiny world, where everything is upside down. But only if the moon is full."

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Sirius Black leaned against the wall of the Gryffindor common room, his arms crossed and a smirk playing on his lips. He had been watching you for the last ten minutes, trying to figure out exactly what you were doing.

You had just wandered in, barefoot, with a small frog sitting happily atop your messy hair. The creature seemed to be perfectly content, its little legs dangling over your ear like a charming, offbeat accessory. You hummed a random tune to yourself, oblivious to the stares you were attracting.

"Is... is that a frog?" James Potter asked, looking over to Sirius.

"Yes, yes it is," Sirius replied, amused, his eyebrow raised. "And I’m starting to think it’s not the weirdest thing about her."

You danced over to the couch, still humming your odd tune, and plopped down with a soft plop. The frog gave a tiny croak in response. Sirius shook his head, trying not to smile at your quirky nature.

He'd never quite figured you out. Not that he minded. In fact, he loved that about you.

Today, though, something about the way you stared at the fire, entranced, made him curious. He sauntered over to where you sat, leaning down to catch your eye.

"Hey, [Y/N]," Sirius said, his voice soft, "you good?"

You blinked up at him, your wide eyes almost glassy, as though you had just been pulled out of some distant, far-off dream.

Sirius blinked a few times, unsure whether to laugh or just stare in disbelief. You were completely off the rails, but there was something endearing about it.

"You’ve got a lot of theories, don’t you?" he remarked, sitting down next to you.

"Careful, I don’t want to become the fridge magnet," Sirius teased, his lips curling into a grin.

"You’re impossible," he said, but there was no real malice in his voice. It was affection, the way someone would say, “You’re so frustrating, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You tilted your head and grinned, that spark of mischief lighting up your eyes. "And you’re very charming for someone who doesn't seem to understand the power of a well-placed frog."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "A frog, huh? Well, tell me, what’s its power?"

"Right," Sirius said with a dramatic nod. "So what are we waiting for, then? We should find the next puddle, moon or not."

"Exactly!" you exclaimed, suddenly standing up and nearly tripping over your own feet. The frog wobbled a bit but managed to hang on. "We must go! The universe needs us."

Sirius laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You’re completely mad. But I wouldn’t have you any other way."

You looked back at him, wide-eyed and playful. "Mad? Oh, I’m not mad at all, Sirius. I’m simply tuned to the rhythm of a different drum. It’s much more fun this way, don’t you think?"

He watched you for a moment, and then, without missing a beat, said, "Maybe I’ll start carrying around a frog too. You know, for balance."

You gave him a look of approval. "Good idea. We'll form a secret society of frog-bearers. We’ll rule the world, one puddle at a time."

Sirius just smiled, content. "Sounds perfect, puff."

#harry potter #harry potter oneshots #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry james potter x y/n #marauders x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black fluff #sirius black fanfiction

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violent-viscera · 2 months ago

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my true (respectful) thoughts of arcane s2

so much of the promotional material promised so much in the way of vi and jinx/powder and their sisterly relationship, but i feel like with the amount of storylines/plotlines they did in this season, it was just too busy to focus on anyone–let alone the two supposed protagonists of the show. i think the best way for me to articulate how i feel about the writing of this show is that it fell flat, lost its heart, and emotional impact of the first season.

i would have been okay with them straying from my personal favourite focus if:

the storylines had been fleshed out better

the decisions the characters made actually made sense

main characters didn't become plot devices (vi)

new additions of the show weren't just plot devices (isha, loris, maddie, etc.)

motivations of characters made sense

characters had even small lines/dialogue to articulate their intentions/ideas

less time spent on off-screen development

and the thing is with the amount of plot lines they were ambitiously aiming to see out to fruition, its really hard to also set up all these new facets or opposing characteristics in former characters–plus adding new ones too. for example:

caitlyn's facist arc that didn't really have much meaning or attention

jinx's s1 mental collapse which changed abruptly into her redemption arc via isha (plot device)

jinx's revolutionist arc (first, reluctantly and then, willingly w ekko)

vi's pitfighter/brawler arc which was literally just one clip (which ended up being a teaser that showed everything)

im almost grateful to the minimal screen time ekko got bc they didn't try to change the core and essence of who he was in s1: he stayed true to himself. he's just a boy with a huge heart and love for his people that chose to leave his happy ending in an alternate timeline to return to the ppl who needed him where he is almost guaranteed heartbreak in some way or another.

i think the main reason so many ppl loved the first season was bc the characters were relatable in one way or another and they became so multidimensional when you explored how their environment/circumstances shaped them. but this season bc it was so purely focused on the endgame instead of HOW everyone got there, the characters fell flatter, they lost a soul and heart, and i felt the show lost its charm.

i know we all have our favourite characters and storylines we want the show to focus on and i would have been okay if i didn't get my way. if the show didn't focus on jinx and vi, i would've lived (although the promotional material was unfairly misleading) if the storylines, characters, and everything else made sense to me.

of course, the animation was lovely and the music was catchy/heartbreaking. i dont regret watching the show out to its final episode. it was one of the most beautiful visual experiences of my entire life. i still love the characters and will never regret staying on board until the final moments.

but i cant lie and say im not a little sad at how it ended too.

edited add-on:

also, the voice actors did phenomenally. ella purnell just absolutely nails the delivery for every line and reed shannon also hurt me with how he portrayed ekko. so on and so forth.

but that being said, i also felt the dialogue and lines of each character felt much less impactful this season (again, writing.)

i liked viktor’s monologue at the end of act 2. that was compellingly well written

but the lines this season weren’t the same quality as silco’s monologue about drowning, jinx’s speech at the beginning of the doomed tea party, etc. everything just felt so flat and shallow this season overall.

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 10 months ago

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Hey honey!! So Im back with more dad!tan request. What if like y/n and tan were not dating, maybe just one night stand or were kinda talking at some point/friends with benefits, and tan did not know he was a dad until he runs into y/n either during a mission or just like at the store, and y/n has like a 5 year old who looks like tan. Like… the DRAMA!!

Hope you’re doing well hon!!

-🍼

hii bb!! I just realised that I automatically wrote this in headcanon format, hope that’s okay. I really love this idea🤭 thanks for requesting hope you like it💌 sending love

I got carried away, apologies!! wc: 675

TAN NOT KNOWING HE’S A DAD.

at the beginning, maybe his job got in the way, so you both kept things casual - ie friends with benefits. things ended abruptly and kinda suddenly, and you lost contact. and then soon after you split, you found out you were pregnant

you didn't tell him as you knew he wasn't ready, and bc of how things ended, you didn't want to bring him back into your life. maybe you relied on the support of family and friends to get you through the pregnancy (and with the uncertainty at the start)

I always write tan having a girl, so im gonna switch it up and say you had a boy (WHO is practically the spitting image of tan. but he also has a mix of your genes too. your body did the work. you deserve the credit for a pretty baby too)

when you were pregnant and when baby boy was born, you kept it secret and hidden. and didn't tell tan. you were very conflicted about it. you wanted him to know that he had a child, but you couldn't stomach the potential disappointment for you and your son. and then you got so busy bringing him up, that the time almost flew by. over the next couple years, you debated picking up the phone to text him, but every time you see your last message chats, you decide against it

maybe your son's birthday is coming up in a couple days, so you take him to the store to pick out decorations and flavours for his cake. he's sat in the trolley, playing with a toy while you walk down the aisles. THEN maybe you see the back of someone familiar... see where this is going?? so you try to avoid him and go down another

then out of nowhere, tan pops up and you both see each other. maybe bc of the child in the trolley, he feels compelled to say hi to you (he's nosey like that) and you do one of those internal 'fuck's for making eye contact with someone you don't want to speak to

you twist the trolley and turn baby boy away so tan can't see his face. and you have pleasantries - asking how the other is doing, what they've been up to etc. then the elephant in the room topic comes up. he asks if you're babysitting, then you say no. then he asks if he's your nephew, you say no again. he pauses, connecting the dots. then baby boy turns around and it's game over

and while tan is looking at your son (they have that vision & white vision moment in wandavision. please say you get the reference) and then tan asks how old the kid is, while he's smiling and nodding at the kid. then you say he's almost 5. and he's speaking in a friendly way while entertaining your son (like a baby voice, pretending he's speaking to baby boy but it's actually to you) "he's mine, ain't he?"

and you're looking between them both, and it just makes you feel warm and fuzzy. so you tell him "yeah" and then right after he asks when the birthday is, so you tell him it's in 2 days at your place. so he says to you "is it alright if I come?" and you tell him "yeah" and it's very sincere. and you and tan have this sweet, silent moment. then before leaving, he says to his son "see you in a couple days little buddy"

and he turns up for the birthday with tonnes of gifts!!!! everything you need that might not have been able to afford (being a single mum and everything) gifts, balloons and basic necessities he wished to have bought when you both needed them

he apologises for everything, and you do too for not telling him (maybe you feel guilty for those 5 missed years)

he asks if he can come over again tomorrow and do something. asking if he can spend time with both of you

#🍼#tangerine #tangerine x reader #dad tangerine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine headcanon

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obislittleone · 1 year ago

Text

Your Beauty Never Ever Scared Me

Dbf!Joel Miller x College!Reader

A/n: Listen… I don’t have any excuse for ditching my other three active series except for tiktok made me do it… That, and the CLM series by @macfrog has ascended me to a new level of crazy and I just needed an outlet for it somewhere. Another shoutout to @theatrelove3000 who keeps putting up with my dbf joel shenanigans, they are indeed insane.

Warnings: girl this whole concept should be a warning but anyways… age gap, some fluff, light smut, uncomfortable situations with readers father… probably some editing mistakes bc ya girl is tired ok its 2am

Please be kind to this chapter, I actually like it, despite the horrors.

Decided on the song ‘Mary On A Cross‘ by Ghost for this one bc it fits ig.

MASTERLIST

Age gap is approximately 15 years or so, reader is over 21 and joel is about 37

"I think I'd probably only slow'ya down," you chuckled, looking to Sarah who seemed to read the displeasure off your face from your dad's offer. "I'm studyin' to be an archeologist, dad. I don't know nothin' about framin' and all that house buildin'..."

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

It had been almost three days.

You looked out the window to the front of your house repeatedly to try and remember it clearly. The drive home, the kiss, and how abruptly it ended with a promise to see each other around. You thought about it so often you almost wondered if it happened the way you perceived it, if any details had been skewed in your mind simply because you wanted to keep it there, fresh, untouched. Maybe he thought of it differently... but maybe he didn't.

"Did you bring home the stuff I asked ya?" Your dad came into the kitchen with a smile, embracing you with a side hug and turning to help you unpack the groceries.

"Course' I did, Pa," you handed him the bag with the six-pack of bud and the other one full of snacks.

It was the first Rangers game night, and as per tradition, that meant the company of the next-door neighbors. It had been a while since you'd been around to enjoy it, but now that you were back, there were quite a few more reasons why you were on edge to now participate. It would look weird if you came up with an excuse not to be there, and you knew that. You also knrw that you'd gotten into a rather complicated entanglement with your father's closest friend, and weren't sure what the outcome really was.

Had that driveway light not spooked you both apart, and had that little black stray cat not made an appearance, how far would it have gone? Things were pretty heated, but even still. Would he have said something? Maybe along the lines of 'I've known you since you were sixteen, and this isn't appropriate at all.'

You didn't have time to think about it, you were set to work on helping your dad cook dinner for the soon-arriving neighbors. Dinner and a baseball game, once a relaxing and enjoyable time to bond with your dad, now turned into an anxiety fest where you were convinced you'd have to walk on pins and needles around every topic.

"So," your dad piped up from his silence at the stove, stirring the pot of chili he'd been prepping. "Joel told me he gave you a ride 'few nights back."

You knew it was harmless, and that he wasn't asking for any reason, other than that he was probably curious. You hadn't seen Joel in a while, not since two Christmases ago. Your dad had driven up to Dallas to spend both Thanksgiving and Christmas with you last year, and you didn't come home for summer break given an internship opportunity. You must have seemed different to the man in some way. All grown up.

"Yeah, gave me a ride n' saved me at the bar," you chuckled, trying to seem playful and unsuspicious about the encounter.

He seemed to be confused, his brows furrowed and a funny look on his face.

"Whad'ya mean he saved ya?" he of course was continuing to speak all the while dumping his favorite spices into the pot of chili, looking across here and now to keep engaged.

"Just scared off some weirdo who couldn't take no for an answer," you let a sweet and genuine smile fall across your features, but didn't let it get out of hand. Your relationship with your father was airtight, and he could read you pretty damn well. You weren't going to give anything away, not with what was potentially on the line.

"Glad he was there," he replied with a chuckle, sending you a soft glance. "Never thought you'd have grown up so fast, now I gotta carry a shotgun whenever we go places. Fend off the wild beasts."

His jokes were only so funny now, because in this situation, you knew he wouldn't hesitate to shoot Joel if he found out what had happened. All in the nature of protecting you, but it made you sad to think of the situation that way. Joel wasn't just another weirdo following you around at a bar.

"It's only because I'm so pretty," you did your best to respond lightheartedly, making a quip that would soothe the silence. "And I believe that's yours and Mama's fault, givin' me the genes and what not."

You'd finished chopping a nice garden salad by the time the doorbell rang. You ran upstairs to change your shirt to the Jersey your dad bought you for your birthday, claiming it was good luck for the team. Truth be told, you didn't wanna be downstairs when Joel and Sarah got here.

Sarah was here, too. Her, you could easily handle. You were almost hoping that she would be in a rather talkative mood, that way the attention could be swayed to her inconspicuously. You doubted Joel would even try to talk to you, anyway.

"Lovebug, come on down, Millers are here!" Your dad shouted up, even though he saw you run upstairs right when the doorbell rang to change your shirt.

"I'm comin', hold on," you replied sassily while heading for the staircase.

You got to the bottom and had to take a breath before turning the corner into the entryway. Joel stood there with a sweet smile to you, and you tried your best to hold back the one you wore. It was too bright, too happy to see him. All despite your nerves.

You were quickly embraced by Sarah, whom you paid immediate attention to.

"My lordy, girl," you held up your hand by your shoulder to show the height difference, "last time I saw you, you must've been this tall."

"Dad tells me I'm growing like a weed," she tossed a finger over her shoulder to where he was standing, and you gave him a small glance and a smile.

"Us daughters do have a tendency to grow up," you laughed, slinging an arm around Sarah and pulling her along to the kitchen as your dad and Joel did the same behind you.

Why had you been so anxious? Joel is happy to see you. He makes causal conversation with your dad, but he catches your eye every chance he gets. His expression doesn't change, except for the tug of his lips in a smile that's barely there. Joel doesn't smile too often, except apparently when you and Sarah are around.

It doesn't take long for everyone to get situated with their food at the table, playful banter between Joel and your father filling the air as you made less rambunctious chatter with Sarah.

She's doing pretty well since last you saw her. She was always a bright girl, but as she grew it became more apparent that she would probably excel further than anyone in her graduating class. You were sitting across from a future valedictorian, you were sure.

You'd tried to ask her about her out of school interests before your dad interrupted with a question.

"How about you, lovebug?" He watched your eyes flick over to him with a turn of your head. He added context, given you hadn't been listening to them earlier. "Are you gonna look for a summer job?"

You really should, if you're being honest. There's not much work in your aspiring profession located here, but you weren't as lucrative as you used to be, given your educational expenses.

"I've thought about it," you tilted your head back and forth, and your dad seemed to need more from your answer. "I need to earn some cash before I get back to Dallas, but I'm not really sure where to apply."

Sarah seemed to know where this was going before you did. She'd been around the last time your dad was begging Joel to find some help for the contracting team they worked with. But surely your dad doesn't expect you to build houses, does he? Your dream job is to dig holes in the ground, not fill them in and put homes on top.

"We got some spaces to fill, you should come work with us 'few months. The pay's good and you don't have to stay on long, probably just till the end of July."

You gave him a look, and he instantly knew you weren't interested, but you figured you'd try and justify your reasoning. It was an argument either way.

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

Did he just-?

"S'not much more fun than what your dad's been doin,' but at least it's out of the sun, and easier to learn."

You were almost dumbfounded. Your dad offering you a job that potentially could give you heat stroke with your lack of experience seemed like the worst idea in the world... but working on interior projects? With Joel of all people? Well, that didn't sound so bad.

You didn't want your dad to catch on, of course. Being so protestant of his suggestion, but then falling right into it as soon as Joel was the one to offer would be a dead giveaway to some sort of favoritism to his best buddy. It simply wouldn't look right.

"What kinda interior stuff?"

He smirked. The motherfucker was smirking. He knew you'd changed your mind, but couldn't exactly just come out with it. He understood, but it was still slightly amusing to him.

"Flooring, cabinets, countertops... 's things like that," he explained, knowing you really didn't care what all it entailed. He was still happy to play along. "S'not as fun as archeology, but it pays alright."

You nodded, acting as though you were turning the thoughts over in your head.

"Well, if you're sure I won't mess it up, I'd be happy to try it out," was your final response. You figured it left some leeway in case your father became suspicious, but gave a good enough answer to end the conversation on.

"That's my girl," your dad clapped a hand on your shoulder in excitement. Truth be told he would very much enjoy your presence on a work site. "I'll go ahead and call Eddie in the morning, let 'im know I found someone to replace Charlie for interiors."

It was said more to Joel, you figured, because you didn't really know who either of those people were. He'd nodded to your dad, taking a sip of his beer and then looking back to you. You smiled sweetly, nobody catching it but the one it was meant for.

"Game's gonna start soon," Joel spoke aloud, drawing everyone's eye to the clock over the stove.

Sarah cleared her throat before jumping in on the conversation.

"About that," she looked to her dad with the same puppy dog eyes she used to use against you. He was just as poor at saying no to her when she pulled those bad boys out. "Sammy texted me to ask if it's okay to stay over at her place tonight?"

Joel sighed. He knew that no matter the attempts he made for her to like baseball, it wasn't her thing. It was summer vacation, and he had no reason to say no, so he didn't.

"Is she coming to pick you up?" He began, fishing his keys out of his pocket to drive her if need be. The girl lived five minutes away, he'd be back only a few minutes after the game started, but he didn't really want to leave.

"I can ask her," she pulled her phone back out of her jeans, opened her screen, and checked her messages.

"No need, I can take you," your voice rang out, standing from the table and taking your bowl to the sink. It was a genuine offer, but it was also to get out of the house and process what just happened with the job situation.

Joel was the first one to stand up with you.

"You don't have to-"

"It's fine," you cut him off, leaving no room for discussion. It was lucky he liked you, otherwise, Joel Miller might have put up quite the argument for such a small dilemma. As was his way, of course. He huffed, but accepted he had been overruled.

"Thanks, then." It was mumbled, but there was gratitude in it.

"We gotta hop over to ours real quick and grab my stuff," Sarah told you, waiting for you to return from the kitchen before beginning to head out through the front door. You'd grabbed your keys off where they hung on the wall before going behind her.

"I'll be back soon," you called over your shoulder into the house, and got a chirped 'alright' reply from your dad.

You walked out passed your driveway, seeing the light flicker on as you both went passed the censor on the ground.

"Y'know, I didn't think you'd have caved so fast on that job thing." She had piped up once you were almost to her porch. You found it only slightly funny that she chose the exact topic which had been swirling in your mind since it happened.

"Not sure I really wanna do it, but your dad made it sound better than every time my dad's talked about it, guess he just convinced me," you chuckled, playing it off in a way that she absolutely was about to use against you.

"That's another thing," she turned to you as she backed into the house through the door, only turning once she was inside. "Since when are you friends with my dad?"

She said it in a joking tone, but having known a few things she didn't about interactions that occurred between you and her father, you felt constricted to answer seriously. Probably with a lie if need be.

"I've always gotten along with your dad," you gave her a confused look, accompanied after by a playful smile.

She grabbed her backpack and opened it, checking to make sure she'd taken all the school stuff out before starting to shove things in, her charger, headphones, etc.

"Yeah but... you're just all young and cool and stuff," she shrugged, turning around to walk towards the staircase. "My dad is all old and boring and only talks about baseball."

"Thirty-seven isn't old, babe. My dad is two years from fifty, and I don't even think he's old, yet. Boring? Maybe..." you reasoned, hearing her laugh before she sprinted up the stairs, giving you time to think of some answers before she asked any more questions. Had she really caught onto you that fast? You didn't think you'd acted noticeably. If Sarah was able to see it, then maybe your dad did, too. You needed to be more careful, in that case.

Sarah returned a few minutes later, her backpack now stuffed and her pillow under her arm. You nodded out the door and headed back to your driveway to open the door for her, seeing as though her hands were full.

The drive after Sarah had been dropped off felt so much longer. Maybe it was just your thoughts, or maybe you consciously drove slower to avoid getting home too quickly. Your dad was waiting, but above that, Joel was there, too. Probably sitting back on the leather couch, relaxing with his feet kicked out on the floor. He usually leaned onto the armrest with his elbow, and held his face against the hand it supported. You'd noticed it years ago. He only ever spoke up when your dad did, usually in reply to him.

He was content simply watching the game in the presence of a friend. It was endearing.

When you pulled into the driveway, you had come up with an excuse to not remain downstairs for the duration of the game. It was too risky, and you weren't apparently as good with self-control as you'd thought you were.

You went inside and hung up your keys on the hook, immediately passing the living room on the way to the stairs.

"Hey, lovebug, you missed the top of the first," your dad called. He knew you liked baseball, so if you were to lie and say you didn't want to watch, he'd know something was up.

"Y'know, pa, I think I'm just gonna watch it upstairs, I forgot I still got some stuff to unpack," you peaked your head into the room to respond, and saw that Joel, just as you had pictured, was sitting in his most usual position on the couch, feet out on the floor, arm up with a hand holding the side of his face.

"Can't you do it later?" Your dad pleaded, but you knew, seeing as how your father occupied the recliner, you would have no where else to sit but on the floor or next to Joel. You didn't trust yourself with that.

"I could, but I might fall asleep if I wait too long."

He sighed, throwing an arm in your direction and shooing you away. He wasn't annoyed, but he'd admit he missed watching these games with you. It had been like a tradition, but if Sarah wasn't here either, he wasn't gonna make you stick around.

"Sure you don't wanna stick around? We could use your lucky jersey down here," Joel piped up, lifting his face from his hand and giving you a pair of soft eyes. That was exactly the reason you would not be staying. He didn't even realize how much he affected you, but you'd make sure he did at some point. Maybe you could just tease him a little.

"You're right, it would be a shame to take the lucky jersey with me."

You walked behind your dad's chair, out of his sight, and tauntingly stripped the jersey over your head, revealing the tight black tank top beneath it, just like that night at the bar. Joel's jaw clenched and his eyes turned darker, even under the bright light of the flatscreen in the living room. You never took your eyes away from his as you slung him the jersey.

"Hey pa, can I get you anything from the kitchen before I go upstairs?" You leaned over the back of his recliner, looking at him upside down. He chuckled and shook his head, trying to move your hair from obstructing his vision.

"We're all good, lovebug," he spoke in addition to his physical response, his laughter dying down as you stood back up. "Come on down if you change your mind."

"I'll probably be down later," you spewed a half-lie. You weren't sure if you would be or not, especially if Joel was still lurking in the living room.

You gave those brown eyes one last look before heading straight upstairs.

You grabbed your remote and flicked on the TV. It was already on the right channel, so you tossed the remote aside onto your bed and flopped back into it. You didn’t actually have anything left to unpack, but they would never have known.

Your phone buzzed beside you, and you lifted the screen to your face to see a text from an unsaved number:

Missin you down here…

You’d never put Joel in your contacts, because in highschool, your friends thought it was weird to even text or call him regularly, but you had his number for years, always just as a backup. You’d known it by heart, now, and nearly had it memorized back then, too, for the times you needed his help.

I’d come back if there was an open seat.

A bit sassy of a response, maybe, but you were hoping he’d understand the hidden meaning behind it… Although, Joel didn’t usually pick up on those things very easily.

Open seat right next to me

Yeah, that’s why I’m up here…

You huffed, realizing it wouldn’t be that easy. The three little dots indicating his next response was on the way slightly nerved you. Maybe he took the last text you sent the wrong way. You didn’t mean it to sound badly.

What’s that supposed to mean?

Means that I can’t keep my hands to myself.

You quickly rectified the situation, although you might have gone too far. He was taking far too long to answer, now. The little dots that before nerved you would now be your saving grace if it meant he would just fucking respond, already. You dropped the phone on your chest, raising up and down in a scattered rhythm while you wiped your hands over your face. Your phone vibrated over your shirt and you immediately opened it.

I can’t either. Stay up there.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. He was thinking the same things you were, and likely was under more stress for it, given he sat right across from your dad, responding to his comments about the game here and there. Your dad had no idea what was happening right under his nose.

Wasn’t thinking about leavin.

This little back and forth went on, the majority of the game, in fact. It was more-so about the plays then on, because you didn’t have anyone to talk to up here.

Joel thought it a bit funny, your dad would say something oddly specific about one of the players, and then you’d text him right after saying the exact same thing. You’d been a product of watching baseball with your old man for just about ever.

“I’m thinking about gettin’ some tickets over the summer for a game or two. They’re always cheaper in them group packages, you n’ Sarah should come along,” your dad was barely paying any attention to the words he spoke, but they came flowing out anyway, clear and cool. “Could be fun.”

Joel knew that there was only so much group interaction he could handle with you, and you with him. It stands to why you’re upstairs, an he’s down here, fist wrapped tightly around your lucky jersey. All out of your father’s sight, of course.

“It could be. Don’t think Sarah’s much for baseball anymore, though.”

He’d hoped that your dad would drop it. Halfway through his third beer, he hoped the man was a little more than tipsy, and maybe didn’t even mean the words he was saying.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t still tag along,” your dad was definitely still sober enough to keep it up, although the way he spoke became slower. Maybe he was getting sleepy.

“I’ll think about it.”

His response was followed by a hum, then a lull of silence that endured the rest of the game. He sat all the while and thought about his predicament a bit more.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was insane… like you’d leeched yourself to the inner workings of his mind and he wouldn’t be able to pull you off without hurting himself, too. You were just upstairs, and had been texting him. You were within his vicinity, and yet… so unreachable.

He’d wished for you to be down here, or for him to be up there with you. Obviously, that wouldn’t go too well with the man sitting next to him, but he’d be asleep soon. If he could just touch you again, just kiss you one more time, maybe his cravings would be satisfied and he could go about his days… but what would happen if he kept feeling the addictive urge to do more? What if he was never satiated enough to quit you?

The game was called, and you’d texted him a small ‘victory’ at seeing the Rangers had won.

It was wrong, and the presence of his friend beside him was a constant reminder that you were his kid, and he would have a final say. Even though you were an adult, he understood this was completely taboo, and you should be off with guys your own age... but he’s made up his mind about the thoughts spinning in his head.

He didn’t respond, though. Your dad stood up out of his chair, his arms stretching outwards with a loud yawn as he took a few steps forwards, clapping his hand down on Joel’s shoulder.

“I hate to kick you out…” your father joked, a low and tired chuckle under his words.

“It’s alright, I got some stuff to sort out anyway.”

They started making their way towards the door when light but fast footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs.

Joel turned quickly, a smile on his lips and in his eyes when he saw you trying to catch your breath after sprinting down here.

“Leavin’ already?”

They both laughed heartily. As if Joel hadn’t been here almost three hours, most of which you spent upstairs. Your heart was beating far too fast for your liking, but there didn’t seem to be a way to stop it. Now that you were present again, in the room with him, you didn’t know what else to do.

“Your dad’s half asleep as it is, if I stay any longer I’ll send ‘im into hibernation,” Joel’s response made you giggle softly, although you withheld most of the laughter, because in all honestly, it wasn’t that funny, and you needed to learn to control yourself.

“He’ll be over next week, we’ll talk about gettin’ you into that job.”

You nodded, turning back to Joel as your dad opened the front door. What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t hug him, could you? That’s too much… maybe just wave, or maybe-

He held his hand out… for you to shake it. A hand-shake. Yeah, sure, fine.

You shook it, but he pulled you in half way, tapping your back once and then letting go.

He just bro hugged you. This man just-

He turned and did the same to your dad, giving you one last glimpse as he stepped out the door. Your dad closed it behind him and you were almost clean out of words to say. That had to have been the strangest interaction you’ve had.

“I’m beat, love-bug. I’m gonna head to bed,” he slung an arm around your neck and kissed the top of your head before turning and going down the hall to the stairs. “Don’t be up too late.”

“I won’t, just got a few things to do.”

You waited approximately ten more seconds before running to the garage door, going as quickly and as quietly as you could through to your front yard. Joel was still on his porch when you got out there, but was about to go inside.

You ran out to the sidewalk in font of his house and called out to him, all the while still barefoot.

“Hey Miller,” you crossed your arms, watching him turn around and lean in one direction. “Did you just bro-hug me? Or did I imagine that?”

He stepped closer to the edge of the porch, leaning against one of the wooden beams closest to him.

You slowly walked up to him, tilting your head to side as you observed his stance. he looked rather good. Hair tousled, body adorning a black t-shirt and some dark jeans. He was a sight, even in the dark light of the neighborhood.

“I reckon I oughta’ try again?”

"Seems like the fair thing to do."

“You’re takin’ your sweet time, baby,” he irked, grabbing gently under your elbow and pulling you up onto to porch once you were close enough.

You smiled to him, and wrapped your arms round his neck, over his broad shoulders. He pulled you close, tucking a head into your shoulder. The anxiousness you felt before fell apart, the rapid beating of your heart slowed, because you were comfortable. You felt immense peace in his arms like you’ve never felt before.

He backed away too soon, but still kept you relatively close to him.

“Was that better?”

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

There was a moment of silence, of contemplation, but it wasn’t stiff, and it wasn’t awkward. It was just there, a nice and pleasant quiet, and you standing still with Joel Miller on his porch.

“You wanna come inside a while?”

Sarah wasn’t home, and wouldn’t be till morning. Your dad was probably passed out in bed by now, leaving the opportunity completely open. You had nothing to lose, no risk to be had.

“Yeah, I think I will.”

He didn’t let you go, he just walked you both backwards until he was able to reach the door, reaching with one hand to open it before stepping slightly to the side to allow you entrance first.

“Ever the gentlemen,” you smiled, walking inside before he followed you in.

“Gotta make up for all that nonsense earlier,” he closed the door, taking your hand and walking to the kitchen. He pulled out a stool at his counter and let your hand fall to your side as he made his way to the fridge.

He pulled out two beers and uncapped them with the tool hanging on the side of his fridge. You think you remember your dad buying it for his birthday one year. You can remember sitting in this exact seat many times before, actually. Never alone, though. Never just you and Joel, and nobody else near.

He slid you one beer an you smiled at him in thanks, taking a sip.

“Last time you had one of these, I didn’t know if you liked it or not,” he gestured to his own bottle, drinking some and setting it down on the counter.

“I don’t know, I think it’s growing on me.”

He looked straight to you, leaning both hands on the edge of the counter. You leaned forward, mimicking his more stern face of features before he said anything else.

“I didn’t wanna say so with your dad around, but you look awful pretty tonight,” he spoke the compliment smoothly, but he had to drop his head after he said it. Seemed that giving you compliments alone in the night was something of a struggle for him, since he was blushing still even when he looked back to you.

“I seem to be feelin’ a lot prettier as of late whenever I’m around you. Think you’re just good for my self esteem,” you paused, leaning back onto the stool to take a drink of your beer. “That, or it's just nice to be complimented by a handsome guy like yourself.”

He didn’t seem to believe you. His scoff was loud and heard immediately after your compliment returned to him.

“You think I’m handsome?”

He’d always thought he was average. Maybe even slightly below. As he got older, that notion grew until he felt that maybe he was beyond trying for a woman on behalf of his looks. Perhaps there were women from time to time that would agree to a date, but there were none since Sarah’s mom who actually stuck around, not until you… but you were different as far as relationships go, because technically, you shouldn’t even be considering one with him.

“Absolutely, I do. Why wouldn’t I?” You were curious, because he was clearly attractive. Maybe you’d spent too much time around the more traditionally preferred young men in dallas, but something about Joel intrigued you that never did with anyone else. Maybe it was the forbidden aspect of what you two were doing, but before that, it was something else. He was rough and rugged, and good looking in a mature way that the boys your age couldn’t mimic if they tried. Those dark brown eyes with little crows feet at the edges every time he smiled were a dead give away to his age, but it was so appealing somehow.

“Don’t know. Guess I’m just old,” he spoke, trying to hide the insecurities that phrasing brought about. He was too old for you, he shouldn’t be sitting here with you you alone and calling you pretty, and yet…

“Maybe that’s a good thing. Too many boys my age are still very immature these days.” And it was very much true. Too young, too immature, and too stupid to see what’s in front of them and really appreciate it. Older men have a tendency to take care of the things they have, because they know that with time they can lose them.

“That so?”

“Mhm.”

“They don’t even realize what their missin’ out on, do they?”

You shook your head in reply. Nope. Not a single one of the younger guys you’ve dated has treated you with the care you know he could. He’s always treated you with care, before… why would that change now?

“They probably figure there’s a million girls linin’ up after me that they can take a shot at,” you raised your eyebrows and drank some more. Maybe it was just a thought of some past experiences, but this beer was tasting better and better to you.

“I pity them,” he said nonchalantly, without really thinking about it.

“Who, the girls? I mean, I kinda feel bad, but other times, I think we all know what we’re getting ourselves into n’ we just try to ignore the red flags.”

It was meant as a joke, but he was being genuinely serious.

“No, the guys. I pity ‘em.”

“Oh, do you?”

“I do,” he nodded, thinking of the right words to say. “They lost you, didn’t they? Biggest mistake of their lives and they didn’t even know. Pity ‘em just for that.”

You didn’t know what to say. You figured the wide smile you wore was doing a fine enough job, but he wasn’t looking like he had anything else to voice yet.

“You think I’m somethin’ special, Joel Miller?”

He set his bottle down on the counter and walked around it to stand right in front of your barstool. He took both your hands and pulled them to his chest, just holding them there and looking to you with the sweetest expression you’ve ever seen from him. He’s so different than what you remember in your earlier years. He used to be so stoic and serious. Sometimes even a little grumpy. Guess time changes things.

“I wouldn’t be gettin’ myself into sum’ this crazy if I thought anything else,” he mumbled it almost, but he definitely meant it. His words rang true in every aspect of the implications they made. This was crazy, it was very unlikely in the first place, but even still, it was happening. Neither of you backed down, neither of you said no.

“If it helps, I happen to think you’re pretty damn special, too.”

He didn’t respond, just leaned closer towards you, nudging his nose against yours, before letting your lips meet in a kiss. it washed rushed and hazy like the last time. It wasn’t forceful or fast or anything of that sort. It was gentle, and it was meaningful. All the years he’d known you, but never like this. You knew this attraction was new, but it was still real. You wondered how many women pined after him over the years, only for you to now gage his attention when clearly no one else did. The man’s been single since Sarah’s mom left, and otherwise, you didn’t know him to be much of a ‘dating around’ kinda guy. Standing here with him, now, you felt such excitement in knowing he’d pursue you, the off limits woman, over anyone else. It was a true victory, or at least you thought so, sitting on a stool in his kitchen while he kissed you softly, his thumbs going over the backs of your hands that still lingered in his.

When the kiss broke, you inhaled deeply, the scent of him so close to you, surrounding you. He was like a warm blanket you just pulled out of the dryer. He was comforting, and soft, and his skin was currently hot to the touch. You could only hope that you had something to do with that.

“Baby,” he breathed, hands letting go of yours and finding a new home at your waist. You left your hands on his chest, feeling his heart rate fluctuating. “Gotta know something before this goes any further…”

You hummed in response, still trying to even your breath intake. He backed away a few inches to be able to look you in the eyes correctly. He’d spent enough time with you in the past to know if you were telling the truth, and he was going to use it just this once to his advantage.

“What we’re doin’, you sure you’re okay with it?” He knew better than to jump into this without clarification. “Don’t want you feelin’ pressured if you’re not.”

“I want this,” you spoke softly, just loud enough that he could hear. “Promise.”

You had thought you’d been the instigator to this, if memory serves you correctly. Even still, you know now that whatever happens, he won’t take it somewhere you don’t want it to go. This show of good faith was something you could put trust in him over. He’s a good one, you always knew that.

And again his lips were on yours, differently this time. It was a bit more hasty and fervent like the first time, but there was still something different from then that you couldn’t quite decipher.

You absent-mindedly opened your legs and he instantly came between them, letting your bodies become flush with one another. His hands ran up and down your sides, every once and a while dipping to your hips and somewhere below on your thighs.

There was a heat between them that you didn’t realize was there until he came so close to touching it. He never actually did, though, and you were both endeared by and upset about it. He was the one making that heat spread, he can’t just leave it there… but he’s testing his limits, and you think it’s respectful that he is.

He doesn’t want to cross any lines… as if this entire entanglement has not already done that. This situation in every sense of the definition, has crossed the line. Him hugging you that tightly on his porch, him inviting you in after dark when it’s only you and him alone, having a beer with some very personal conversation, and now making out with you in his kitchen. They all crossed the line of what should happen between a man and his best friend’s daughter.

“Tell me to stop,” he mumbled against your mouth, almost as if reading your mind. His hand on your thigh drifted between your legs, just barely caressing the heated pool sitting there, waiting for him. It was still very reserved, and you had to buck against his hand for more friction, but at least it was something.

The taste of him somehow made it worse, the feeling growing inside you without an end in sight. The arousal was evident, but you weren’t sure he would be able to do anything about it, yet. You could tell it was weighing on his mind, what was okay for him to do, and what wasn’t. You would beg him if you had to, you just needed more.

He had an idea, one that could allow both of you to explore this dynamic easier, and one that could potentially keep him from overstepping like he was afraid to.

He removed his hands only for a minute, bringing yours up and over his shoulders before he settled his back down below your ass.

“Hold on,” he told you, lifting you from the seat and walking until he got to the living room. From there, he let the space guide him until the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch. He sat almost abruptly, and when you relaxed your weight onto him, you felt the stirring between his legs as well. You moaned into his mouth at the mere size and feeling of it, beginning to slowly grind down onto him. He encouraged your movements, and used his hands to guide your hips as you went, back and forth, getting into a rhythm.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised, tearing himself away for a moment to expel his breath from his lungs at the new feeling. Your head fell against his, and suddenly it was the movement of your lower half taking you over.

He let his hands move over your body a bit more freely, now, but still careful not to make any harsh movements, or grab in places he felt he shouldn’t linger too long. He knew you wanted this, but something inside him questioned how comfortable you really felt… that was until you started doing the same, roaming his body with your delicate touch, making him feel like the most important man in the world. You could have sworn you marked the exact moment he snapped, rolling his hips upwards into yours shamelessly. It was so deliciously addicting, the feeling of his body pleasing yours, and vice versa. His rough and sturdy hands, though still gentle, ravished any part of you available to him.

The air between you was hot and thick, and you could swear that by breathing it in, you were drawing even more arousal into your body.

The motions kept going until there was a quickening of pace brought on by you both simultaneously. You couldn’t mark a distinction of when it increased, you just knew that the speed you were going wasn’t where you started. All you could think of was that your spend was fast approaching, and you wondered if his was, too.

“Gettin’ close,” you murmured, barely able to get the words out for the moans that slipped passed your lips. “M’gonna…”

He heard you, and understood. Truth be told, he’d started getting hard since that moment on the porch, so this was just nothing but sweet relief to him. He kept on, trying to meet you at your finish.

“Let go , baby.”

You had no qualms about being told twice when it came to him. You gave it up easily, the muscles in your body contracting when you felt the wash of utter ease through every inch of you. He tensed beneath you, but relaxed with a groan of relief right after, and you could feel his length twitch in his jeans.

You just dry-humped Joel Miller on his couch. Like a horny teenager. What the fuck.

The dawn of realization was cut short by his hand softly coercing the back of your neck, bring your lips back for him to claim as he did earlier. Soft, and gentle, no rush, no heat. Just that feeling between you both that started this mess.… and it was indeed a mess.

“You wanna stay over?”

Tags (open):

@justanothersadperson93 @moonchild-warrior @hopplessilse @brittmd115 @michilandcof @untamedheart81 @just-someone-broken @joelalorian @xybil @yvonneeeee

If i tagged you wrong, or you want to be taken off at any time, just lmk!!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #dbf!joel miller x reader #dbf! joel miller #joel miller age gap #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

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worldstarz · 7 months ago

Text

persona 3 spoilers (part 2!)

pairing: shinjiro aragaki x fem!reader

tags: angst

a/n: continuation of this post. i will edit this as soon as i wake up in the morning but i told myself i will not go to bed until this leaves my drafts bc it’s been marinating for like five days. also what is the title of this two part thing??

HUGE SPOILER WARNING FOR OCTOBER IN PERSONA 3 !!!

———

it still smells like him.

the room is barren. shinjiro never wanted to leave his mark on the world, trying to erase his own existence. but, as you lie on the sheets that have yet to be changed, the subtle musky scent engulfs you.

“it still smells like him,” you repeat your thoughts aloud, as if by addressing it would make it permanent.

maybe this was weird. if he were here, standing before you, he would be staring down at you with a quirked brow. “what the hell are you doing?”

why did he come to your room that night? what purpose did he have, knowing his own fate?

you try not to cry. you’ve cried enough already, and the image of shinjiro in your head would certainly scold you, telling you to just get up and get some food with him.

but he’s not here.

sure, it’s not what he would’ve wanted, but you make yourself comfortable on his bed. it’s the least he could do after confessing his desire for you, knowing he would die the same day.

lying on your back, you allow your mind to wander. why does it feel like you’re the only one stuck in the past? how has everyone been able to bounce back so quickly? hell, akihiko is basically his brother and he’s already moved on. speaking of moving on, amada’s completely—

fuck, what is wrong with you?

for the past few days, you tried to block these festering thoughts. being open minded was what lead you to be so close to shinjiro. akihiko just processes his grief differently, while amada was just a kid blinded by revenge.

but still…

you sit up abruptly. he wouldn’t want this.

you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and plant your feet on the ground. he wouldn’t want this.

you stand up, smoothing over your clothes. he wouldn’t want this.

but what the hell do you even know about him? how do you know what he would want? you couldn’t even become close enough to figure out what plagued his mind during his every waking moment. maybe if you did, you would’ve been able to stop—

no. he wouldn’t want this either.

just like how he would want akihiko, amada, and everyone else to come together and move on. he would not want you beating yourself up over something you weren’t involved in.

you take a deep breath in, then out. in. out. okay. you’ve got this. this is your last day to be in his room before everything is moved out. all that will remain is the memory of him. everyone else already got a turn a few days ago, so this is your last chance to preserve whatever fragments of him are left in here.

the drawer to his desk is slightly ajar. out of respect for his privacy, you begin to shut it, but something oddly familiar peaks out.

is that…?

with wide eyes and shaky hands, you reach in.

it’s a photo of the two of you, back when shinjiro still went to school, before you had any ideas about why he came to class everyday all beat up.

you’re smiling, holding up a peace sign, while shinjiro glared at the camera. it was a picture taken to commemorate the end of junior high school—one that took a lot of convincing for him to agree to.

on the back, sprawled in your handwriting, you wrote;

“shinjiro,

i found this picture of us from the last day of junior high! it’s weird how much time has passed.

have you been eating well? how is your sleep? are you still growing out your hair? i know you’re not feeling well, but as soon as your health improves, we should hang out again.

also, i miss seeing you in class. hurry up and get better! i need someone to talk to!

-[name]

11/04/08”

it takes you a second, but you do remember writing this. judging by the date, it was roughly a month after he took his leave of absence, citing medical issues. you didn’t have much contact with him outside of school, so you relied on akihiko to transport the photo to him.

you crouch down, trying to get ahold of your emotions. you’ve done enough crying. he wouldn’t want you to waste so many tears on him.

but haven’t you been ignoring his wishes already?

you bury your face in your hands in a pathetic attempt to muffle your sobs. physically, nobody was in here. but for you, shinjiro was everywhere. in this room, in the hallways, in the lounge, on the streets, at school—he followed you everywhere. your morale bent under the weight of his memory.

only now do you realize there will come a day where you will have known the grief longer than you have known him.

but this pain is better than never knowing him in the first place.

shinjiro, who secretly cooked meals for koromaru.

shinjiro, who never let you go to bed on an empty stomach.

shinjiro, who tried to push you away, but failed.

shinjiro, who held you close hours before his death.

shinjiro, who didn’t want to leave his mark on the world, but left a mark on you.

the grief will never go away. you will carry it with you wherever you go, and the weight of it will never diminish. but, you can grow around it. you will grow around it.

because that’s what he would’ve wanted.

#shinjiro aragaki #shinjiro aragaki headcanons #shinjiro x reader #shinjiro aragaki x reader #persona 3 #persona 3 reload #shinjiro aragaki headcanon #p3 shinjiro #i’m so tired #i hope this doesn’t look like a dumpster fire when i wake up #outing myself as an amada apologist #he wanna be thorfinn so bad

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verdantwyrm · 2 months ago

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Hi! Sorry to rant, I don’t know if it’d be appropriate, or if the theme has been discussed already… But you’re, like, the ambassador of Curly enjoyers to me, so I figured this would be my best bet.

The thing is, I’ve been quietly seething lately thinking about how much the perception & treatment of Curly post-crash is defined by his injury. Like, how much it would’ve changed if the man had at least retained his face.

(I mean, he is my fav character for many reasons and in a lot of ways, and yet when replaying the game I have to stop and remind myself every now and then that this is the same person we occasionally play as, with the same set of memories, traits, thinking patterns etc. Not because I forget the fact, but because of how easy it is to subconsciously divide them when he neither behaves nor looks the same anymore. I have a mind exercise of coming to the med bay as I have to pass by, to observe Curly where he lies on his gurney table and try to imagine his pre-accident version looking up at me from there. Something of an attempt to strengthen the associative connection and not be part of the problem.)

Imagine an AU where basically everything is the same but the cockpit didn’t catch fire during the crash, and instead the ship just stopped very abruptly, Curly hit the wall/control panel badly and broke his spine, leaving him paralyzed from the neck down. So he is aware but unable to move around or communicate effectively (like in canon), but also he’s completely recognizable. Now, I’m not saying people in the fandom wouldn’t have still treated him like a prop or a pet or a child or some kind of silly f/cked up mascot (bc some people are *****), but I bet my kidney the occurrence would’ve been considerably less common than it is now. And that’s it, that’s the point. The whole dehumanization thing going on is just disheartening.

Anyway, sorry once more if it was all over the place, didn’t mean to be rude... Thanks for listening and for all your committed work as an ambassador and an advocate!

Hi Anon! o(^-^)o Thank you so much! And do not apologise, you have no idea how much I appreciate you and others coming into my inbox and giving me their opinions, feedback and perspective of stuff! Curly is my favourite character as well and I will not tolerate slander! Especially when its just straight up incorrect.

But to answer your question, alot of Curly's post-crash dehumanisation does immensely come from the fact that he's lacking any real facial features. Real life burn victims that have suffered directly to their faces experience this basically every day. Because they lack a """normal""" face thats recognisable, alot of people subconsciously stop recognising these people as Human because they Do Not Look Like One.

Even people that are just double or triple amputees (or in Curly's case, a quadruple amputee) deal with an immense dehumanisation and infantilisation because they "lack the necessary equipment to be an adult human" and perform tasks on their own. There comes a very specific type of infantilisation towards disabled people and thats the utter denial and ignorance that once you "become" disabled you no longer have sexual desires, that you no longer function as an adult and anyone trying to have sex with you or engage with you in that way is a creep because to them you are the equivalent of a 10 year old.

Curly and how he's treated by the fandom and whatnot is significantly impacted by how he looks, and the example you give me of him managing to not burn all of his skin off but would become paralysed from the neck down, I know for a fact that if that was the case, he would be treated significantly worse because he cannot move. Canon Curly isn't paralysed, he's just in an excruciating amount of pain that reduces his movement, but he does still have somewhat control over his limbs. If he somehow ended up paralysed ontop of that, the treatment he receives would be way, way worse. And I can't even begin to describe what that would look like, but I know deep down in my gut that it absolutely would.

If he were to somehow not get burnt but still get paralysed like you said, I think his treatment could be different, but I'm not sure exactly how. He would absolutely still be dehumanised to an extent especially with being paralysed, but its the fact that he has a face that makes a difference. People might be able to remind themselves that he's a grown ass man, but probably not.

You going through the effort to conciously remind yourself that they are infact the same character is actually fantastic, and it shows that you're willing to see disabled people as human beings, real people, even in this case. And you're doing marginally better than alot of people who look at him and completely reduce him to nothing but a dog, creature or an "it" or "thing"

And it's also evident in how Jimmy treats him too, as a liability, that because he's in this state he can just strip away his title like it doesn't mean anything, dehumanise and project his own authority over. Jimmy does this with Anya and Curly, significantly so with her, but in an increasingly horrifying way with Curly.

And thank you so much Anon! Never apologise, I had alot of fun answering this question, and I will continue to work hard as Curlys ambassador and defender! ヾ(*・ω・)ノ

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing curly #mouthwashing jimmy #mouthwashing anya #anon #ableism #tw ableism

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chadillacboseman · 1 year ago

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Hiii :)))

I saw your Makarov posts and I am obsessed with how you write him! I was wondering if I could request a writing? Could you write a oneshot where the reader is completely unaware of just WHO Makarov is and thinks he's a regular guy (established relationship) but she somehow finds out what he does/ has done and he lowkey kinda panics bc how tf did she figured that out??? And is she gonna leave??? But he explains how much he's doing to make sure she never is exposed to his work and he becomes more desperate to make sure she stays? Idk i like him lowkey kinda OOC 😌

If not that's totally ok! Have a good day!!

HELLO GREAT IDEA I LOVE YOU.

ALSO- Jason Isbell has a song called "Live Oak" that I feel fits really well:

There's a man who walks beside me

He is who I used to be

And I wonder if she sees him and confuses him with me

And I wonder who she's pinin' for

On nights I'm not around

Could it be the man who did the things

I'm living down?

Makarov had worked very hard to keep his "work" away from you. He crafted believable stories, spun from whole cloth, to explain his extended absences and late nights spent away from home. When his men kept an eye on the house, he made them do it in secret, hoping, no- praying that you wouldn't notice the familiar cars that parked on the street every night.

As they say, though, even the best laid plans can go awry.

Makarov's phone rang in the middle of the night, the soft thrum of the vibration just enough to wake him, but not you. He scrambled from the bed, quickly swiping to answer the call while making his way into the hallway.

"What is it?" he asked, sleep still clinging to his voice as he paced in the small space.

An errant creak in the floorboards made him curse in Russian, glancing over his shoulder to make sure it hadn't awoken you.

In the bedroom, you stirred, reaching a hand over to his side of the bed and blinking awake when you found it empty.

"V?" you croaked out into the darkness.

No answer.

You could hear the soft sound of his voice coming from the hallway, words muffled by the distance between you. You rose to your feet quietly, trying to shake the tiredness from your mind.

Makarov had his back to you, his phone pressed against his ear; he was whispering, but you could hear the angry hiss in his voice.

"I told you to tie up the loose ends!" he paused to listen to the man's response and scoffed quietly, "Make sure he's dead before morning, or I'll put a bullet between your eyes myself."

Your heart hammered out an erratic rythm in your chest, so loud that you were sure he could hear it. Had you misheard him?

Makarov ended the call and immediately swiped his thumb across the numbers, dialing a contact you didn't recognize.

"Ivan just called me," he hissed into the phone when the person picked up, "After that stunt at the train station in London-"

His next words were lost to the ringing in your ears.

Train station? Your memory flashes to the news articles, the tv coverage- dozens dead, and hundreds more injured in a blast that NCA and Interpol were still investigating.

Before you could stop it, a small gasp fell from your mouth, impossibly loud in the quiet space. At the sound of it, Makarov's shoulders stiffened, his broad frame becoming rigid in the darkness.

He ended the call abruptly and tried to swallow his heart down out of his throat. His mind was on fire, racing with what to do- what to say-

When he finally turned to face you, his face was pale and his eyes were full of desperation.

The two of you stood in silence, neither willing to break it and confront what had just happened. You'd shared your life with him for the last four years- had laid in bed next to a killer. How many plots had he orchestrated? How many people had died at his behest?

Makarov finally broke the silence with a whisper of your name, "Please- let me explain."

You looked so afraid, wild-eyed like a doe that hears the errant crack of a twig in the forest. His heart was in his stomach now; he felt as if his entire world was about to fall down around him.

Part of you wanted to leave. To pack a bag and find a cheap hotel to put some distance between the two of you. But another part of you, a bigger part, wanted a fucking explanation.

But what could he possibly say?

Makarov closed the distance between the two of you, one of his hands coming up to cup your face. You flinched at the movement, and he felt his heart break.

"I did everything I could to keep you safe," he murmured, his dark eyes never wavering from yours, "I didn't-" he paused for a moment, searching for the words, "I didn't want you to know who I am- what I am."

"You'll never have to find that out. I promise."

"And what are you?" You whispered. You felt as if your life had been upended entirely, pieces of your broken image of him scattered like a shattered piece of china.

"And what if the enemies you've made come for me?" You asked, defiantly, pulling your face from his grip.

A possibility he'd considered thousands of times. That you pulled away from his touch while you asked it pierced his chest like a knife.

How could he begin to explain the details his men kept on the house? The late nights he spent awake when a noise roused him from his sleep, ears strained in the darkness and a grip on his pistol?

"My men watch the house when I'm gone," Makarov searched your face for any sign of relief, "I will always keep you safe, Любимая."

There was so much more he wanted to say-

Don't leave me.

You're the closest thing to normal I have.

I love you.

"No one will ever lay a hand on you," he brought his hand to your face once more and you let him, closing your eyes as his thumb swept across your cheek gently, "Please, give me a chance."

You wondered, now, how many sleepless nights he had spent making sure you were safe. How many times he'd been away, nerves on edge with worry of your safety.

Could you still see him as the same "V"?

"Promise me something?" You stared up into his eyes, sparkling in the dark hallway.

"Anything," he breathed, bringing his face closer to yours, the tip of his nose brushing against yours as he spoke.

"I want things to stay like they were. I don't...I don't want to know about what you do."

You weren't even sure that was possible. But you had to try.

Makarov brought his lips to yours, his stubbled chin grating gently against your skin as he kissed you. For a moment, everything felt right again as he pulled you tight against him, the warmth of his body such a familiar comfort you could almost forget what you'd heard. When he broke the kiss, he was breathing heavily, his eyes flitting to yours once more.

"I promise."

#makarov x reader #vladimir makarov x reader #my writing #bird meme: 'AND THEN THEY FUCKED'

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rei-rei-writes2039 · 6 months ago

Text

Awkward - Quinn Hughes x Reader

Synopsis ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ The beginning, middle and end of reader's happiness.

Warnings ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ really short, Angsty-ish, use of y/n, sad Quinny

Authors note ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆this was kinda fun to write and it's VERY loosely based off of a situationship that recently VERY abruptly ended bc he's an ✨️asshole✨️ so yeah....also lmk if you want a Pt. 2!!

Taglist ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ nobody yet!

Quinn thought you were gorgeous. Beyond gorgeous, even. The first time he talked to you he thought you were too cool for him, and he still does. But not the same way.

You were are perfect for him. Did he see that? Yes. Is he an idiot? Also yes.

You guys made it past the talking stage, which how Quinn Hughes was your first 'successful' talking stage, you'll never know. Making it past the talking stage was unusual for you especially since you hadn't ever even had one, to be honest.

The talking stage with Quinn was nice but for a while you were bored of just talking. You wanted to get coffee or lunch with him. You wanted to go to the mall randomly with him because you were both bored. You wanted more.

Quinn loved talking to you but wanted more too. He finally asked you to lunch after a whole 4 WEEKS just texting. Of course you said yes because who wouldn't want to go out with their favorite hockey player, let alone the one they're completely infatuated with.

Once you guys went out you were both having an amazing time. You'd even go far enough as to say you were falling for him after one lunch.

He decided different though.

"Hey..." he mumbled, trying to get your attention "can- can we talk?"

You looked at him confused "We already are, Quinn..."

"I- I know but this is more...important" he sounded almost...guilty?

"Quinn, what's going on? Talk to me."

"I-...I don't think this is a good idea..."

You looked even more puzzled "I- what do you mean?"

"I mean...this....us...I don't think it's good to continue" he said almost quiet enough you couldn't hear it.

You had tears forming as you spoke "Quinn....what do you mean?"

"If we dated...we'd needed see each other and I don't want to do that to you...you're so amazing and I wish we could do this but I don't want to hurt you more"

"I.... I thought we had something..." you mumbled sadly.

"We did! We- we do...I just...I go on a lot of trips for work..."

"It's fine...it-it's fine. It's your choice...I respect it." You smiled weakly at him "my lunch break ends soon, I need to head back to work."

"Wait, pretty girl, hear me out-"

"Quinn, I liked you....a lot. Probably will for a long time...but you hurt me." You said bitterly before walking out to head back to work.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You heard a knock at your front door later that night and went to open it to see Quinn standing there.

"H-hey..." he extended his arm to hand you the flowers he got you.

"What are these for?" You asked harshly.

"You...look, I'm sorry, I don't want things to be awkward between us...I'm so sorry, pretty girl." He said sincerely.

"But you dint take it back...you're just apologizing...?" You asked to clarify.

"Y-yeah..."

"It'll only be awkward if you make it awkward. Yeah, so what if I cried because I had real feeling for you....and I probably always will..."

"Oh....oh my God I'm so sorry...please forgive me"

"I do forgive you, Quinn....but what's done is done and I can't change the past. You made a decision and I respect it." You stated firmly but kindly. "But what you did was so....shitty. it hurt, quinn

"I know and I'm so so sorry, pretty girl....so...so...sorry. Please forgive me, Y/n, please. I'm so sorry" he pleaded quietly.

"Quinn..." You trailed off. "I said I forgive you and I accept you apology....but I'm over it already... "

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #Vancouver canucks #quinn hughes x fem!reader #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #qh43 #quinn hughes x y/n #canucks #Hockey rpf

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menlove · 6 months ago

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Sorry if you’ve been asked this already, but do you have any mclennon fic recs for 1967/pepper era?? I’m obsessed with the vibes around this time, and with Jane away John and Paul seemed to spend a lot of their free time during this period together, but I’ve had trouble finding much of anything. Thx!! <3

oooh good question ! i love love love the 1967/pepper era so let me look back in my ao3 history and see what i've got

these aren't all pepper's era, but they are all 1967 (w the exception of One that's not 67 but Is pepper's). put a 💖 next to ones i especially love

If You'll Shut Up About It, I Will

mature. au. 4k

The day after his birthday, Paul McCartney admits on national television that he's illegally had sex with men. On multiple occasions. But it's the media's responsibility not to spread these things, isn't it? Unfortunately (or fortunately), someone else is watching the broadcast, and wants to know why Paul has decided to declare he's queer to all and sundry when he's the one who's been waiting for Paul to give it a go. AKA, That LSD Interview but make it gayer. note: very interesting, short little au on if paul had come out as having had queer sex rather than having done lsd

you know i know when it's a dream

mature. 5k. In 1967, The Beatles visited Greece with the plan of purchasing an island they could call home. Of course, it was mostly John's idea. note: angsty, smutty little one-shot that hurt my heart

1967 💖

mature. 11.5k. au. In 1961, John Lennon and Paul McCartney left abruptly on a trip to Spain, via France. In 1967, they finally come home to face the consequences. note: not EXACTLY what you're looking for but hey the year is in the title..... but it's sooo good i'll rec this fic constantly. they do definitely have the same aesthetic that they did in real life 1967 too. but this one is so fucking good. it's got an experimental style that lets you see everyone's pov while still remaining really well written which imo is hard to do when you're doing a bunch of pov switches. but it's outsider perspective mclennon & explores the nuances of their relationship and how it was/wasn't impacted by fame and how they'd still be creative with each other if they'd never gotten famous from the beatles...... also they basically create the muppets which i think makes this worth reccing on its own tbh

The Places Where You Bend

mature. 2.6k. "Whatever the opposite of 'toppermost of the poppermost' might be, we're in it up to our asses." It's 1967, all hell is breaking loose, and Paul doesn't know if he can do this anymore. note: ugh i loved this one. it's angsty, as any beginning-of-the-end-of-their-relationship fic is, but it's sooo them and very bittersweet

Stop all the clocks 💖

mature. 30.8k. au. For the following kink meme prompt: ‘1967. After Brian dies, Paul decides not to go ahead with MMT, and takes John up to Scotland for a month instead.’ Also based on the following comment on said prompt: ‘pls someone let them fuck tenderly in 1967’ note: definitely an instant classic! super sweet au that makes you wish life had gone this way for them

Way Up Top 💖

explicit. 12k. Falling out of the sky, together. | Snapshots of the Beatles in Greece, July 1967 note: one of my all-time faves ughhhhhh i just love how they wrote everyone. like ofc the mclennon is great, but this one is so so good for just all around good characterization and writing

always, no sometimes 💖

explicit. 20k. Stolen moments from a single year. Or: four times someone nearly found John and Paul together, and the one time they found each other. Set around the recording of Sgt. Pepper, 1966. note: not 1967, but 100000% the vibe you're looking for. such a good fic. i honestly need to do a re-read bc it's been long enough, but this one was just. augh. so much mustache sex too.

shotgunning

explicit. 3.4k From the kink meme prompt: john/paul, shotgunning weed note: i don't Think this one has a year on it officially, but it definitely fits the vibe you're looking for!

Drop Chute

explicit. 1.9k. paul/robert as well "Paul does coke off Robert's dick and blows him in a public toilet. John is in the neighbouring stall and hates it." FFA asked and I delivered. note: ahhhh we love a good "john getting jealous of paul fucking other men" fic

again

explicit. 1.3k In the summer of ‘67, Paul knows exactly how lucky he is to be the man who gets to fuck John, and then eat him out, and then fuck him again, and then — note: it's smut and it's good smut what else can i say truly

Club Sandwich

mature. 4k. Some drug-fueled party in 1967. Paul ends up sandwiched between two men on the couch. As they start fondling and kissing him, John stumbles upon the scene… note: absolutely great. possessiveness and coke prince paul...... what else could i want from a fic

Carousel 💖

explicit. 3.4k 21 March, 1967. John accidentally drops acid during the mixing of Sgt Pepper. Paul drives him back to Cavendish and decides to take LSD for the first time. Based on true events. John's POV. note: definitely my favorite take on the "john and paul tripping together for the first time" story. so good and introspective.

you can get it wrong (and still think you're right)

explicit. 7.4k. Paul visits John at Weybridge. January, 1967. The laziest man in England, that article had said, and Paul thought suddenly of John, lounging: John, turning the pages of a book with one languid hand, his hair mussed and fetching, making pithy comments to empty rooms. Or maybe he didn’t speak at all when he was alone; Paul realized that he didn’t know anymore. note: aghhhh another great one by stonedlennon. the bittersweetness of their relationship.... love this one a lot tbh

Angles

explicit. 2.7k. John takes another languid drag of his cigarette, his eyes alight now when they look into the lens, meeting Paul's. He's a marvellous subject. They should put him in every movie. "That it?" Paul asks—leading. Hungry. "You're the director. Give us a direction," John goads him. note: looove this one. but all of moeexyz's fics are so good so that's to be expected tbh

an orgasm of sound 💖

explicit. 5.3k “It was a good piece of work between Paul and me. I had the ‘I read the news today’ bit, and it turned Paul on, because now and then we really turn each other on with a bit of song, and he just said ‘yeah’ – bang bang, like that.” — John Lennon Or, John and Paul work on A Day in the Life. note: another great one from moeexyz! this one is..... well. Well. it's very good. what more could i ask for in life than piano sex and a day in the life

#mclennon #fic recs #i went all the way back in my history for this to when i started reading fics for them asjdfasdf #did make me realize there's like. genuinely not a lot from that era which is crazy #may have to rectify this one day w one of my own but tbh i've got no ideas so JFASJDFASDF #but yeah these are all 1967 w the one exception which is still peppers but they dont all fit the #summer of love vibes some are more angsty as theyre late 67 or the greece trip #man.... not enough mustache fucking writing going on :/

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pixiecaps · 6 months ago

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i hope you're already asleep it's so late for you but on the topic of the finale ending honestly i understand why people are so upset by it, i think it royally sucks, but imo it was created entirely because they really needed some way to wrap things up and i think almost everyone would agree that it shouldn't have and wouldn't have ended that way had things been different and had the server not needed to end so abruptly.

like idk you KNOW i'm a canon compliant guy but for this thing specifically i genuinely don't consider it canon and think it should fully be ignored, and i think basically everyone involved would be fine with that. also honestly in my mind everything purgatory and after is non-canonical in that it shouldn't have happened either and the reset is definitely not canon so that makes it easier for me to ignore it completely. i think what players and admins stated about their characters is canonical within reason and otherwise i don't think any of it matters all that much because of how the server ended. like to me i know the reality is that that is how it ended and we don't have any other ending to go off of but because of the circumstances there's just no way i could consider it canon and i already spend all my time dreaming up ways to rewrite all the shit that happened before then, nevermind a garbage hastily written ending that only wrapped up one plot thread (the eggs) and didn't even do that correctly (it completely retconned so much about the eggs and i know a lot of lore got retconned and changed over time but it's particularly agregious).

idk where i'm going with this insane rant in your inbox i really don't i just wanted to give my thoughts on that ending and how i take it as a fandom creator because i often see people treating it like it was a legitimate ending even though they hated it and i'm like this is fandom!!! we can ignore it entirely!!! in fact many characters' endings explicitly defy that ending, that was just the way to wrap up the idea of the egg event in some way that made sense. i totally get people being upset by it, i was too, but i was also upset by the previous. five months? of stuff so i kind of can't be bothered to be annoyed by this particular thing.

again this is nonsensical i'm just saying i think we should all ignore it and i've been saying that since the day of bc it was just so obviously not the kind of ending that would've been written under different circumstances. let's all make up better endings forever and ever amen.

anyway hi pix if you're reading this in the morning i hope you got beautiful sleep and dreamt of snoopy and roier all night

hiii 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 i was in fact asleep by the time you sent this:3

that was another point i discussed with someone els where yeah it sucked because they had to wrap it up and “tie everything together” so i agree on that. everything with the qsmp ending wouldve been different under different circumstances.

you’re incredibly real for not considering canon up to a certain point where everything got messy. i think since we’re both very canon compliant people you can understand where im coming from with that frustration and being irked by how everything played out. it was going so well and then 📉📉📉. and heres the thing you know how much i love purgatory okay cause i do but god its truly one of those events where it shouldve been explicitly uncanon i feeeeel. so much of the lore it introduced and everything clashed with everything we had already established and not informing the creators of anything was such a poor choice. but anyways you already know the whole rant.

i do appreciate the reminder of its fandom who cares. i live by that i just get Even More emotional when sleep deprived and was like wow fuck everything and this stupid fucking ending so thats why i made those posts kkkkkkkk. but ye GOOD REMINDERS ITS FANDOM ENDINGS ARE OPEN TO REWRITES AND OUR OWN INTERPRETATIONS!!!!!!!

i did get beautiful sleep ty bell<3333 i hope you got beautiful sleep as well<3333

#pix asks aaaa

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calicocatsarecute · 2 years ago

Text

So, this is the Genya fic! I decided to go with Gyomei for this one bc he needs more recognition. And, just a hint of ler! Angry boi at the end:)

__________________________________________

“Genya, you need to relax more. You’re too tense.” Gyomei stated. Giving his advice to his trainee.

“…” Genya just tightened his grip in response. His breathing was shaking terribly, anyone could hear it a mile away.

“Genya, you need to learn how relax. You’re on edge about something, I can tell.” Gyomei said softly placing a hand on his shoulder.

All Genya did was turn around to look at the man. His breath still shaking quite a bit.

Gyomei squeezed the younger’s should lightly, squeezing a little bit of his shoulder blade too. And then, Gyomei felt Genya freeze up under his touch.

He knew that reaction too well. Genya was ticklish, just like his brother. And from his experience with his brother, he had an idea of what to do.

The next thing Genya knew, he was being lifted up into a bear hug from the older man.

“Himejima-san! Wha-!” The only reaction was a few giggles escaping the boy’s lips.

Gyomei let a smile come to his lips. Genya’s reactions were ten times more adorable than any of the Hashira. He kept scribbling at the younger boy’s stomach.

“Wahahihihit! Nohohohot thehehere!” Genya just screamed out his giggles, snorting here and there.

Gyomei then decided to test out one of his brother’s worst spots. He started kneading at the spot where the hips meet his sides.

“WAHAHAIHIHIT! NOHOHOHO-EEE!” Genya squealed, confirming to Gyomei that him and Sanemi were more alike than he though.

Gyomei continued to knead at that spot for a little while more. But he then heard footsteps, he stopped abruptly and got up.

“W-what’s wrong Himejime-san?” Genya asked, catching his breath which was beginning to get shaken again.

“What’s going on here?” A familiar voice made Gyomei relax a little.

“Your brother is on edge about something. And it’s making his form distort.” Gyomei said softly, but also firmly.

“On…edge? What does he have to be on edge about!?”

Genya tensed up upon hearing his brother’s harsh voice. However, Sanemi noticed this. His face softened a bit when he realized what the problem might be.

Sanemi crouched down beside his little brother, noticing how much his brother tensed.

“Hey, y’know if you want to get better you have to overcome your obstacles.” Sanemi gave, for once, good advice.

He then proceeded to bring his brother into his lap, and he started mercilessly tickling his younger brother.

“NeheheMHIHIHI! NOHOHOHO!

#demon slayer tickle #kny tickle #lee!genya #ler!gyomei #ler!sanemi

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szilverer · 17 days ago

Text

on returning

was thinking about the intricacies of reisz being a [nemesis spoiler], and defined how that... works exactly. added some new rules for my playthrough too.

(TL;DR in red)

i didnt canonize my old returned one idea right away bc unfortunately my brand of autism makes me care about canon compliance with my own oc stuff-- i even decided to be extreme abt it with the ghostie's account for fun: 98% of the actions i take in-game + the descriptions given to me are canon whether i like it or not! i worried that'd clash with the possible canon about returned loved ones & being resurrected, info i do not have access to. (if there is even any tbh. from what i gathered the aftermath is pretty vague?)

...but then i realised that the FLPC, by virtue of being the FLPC, is already the most specialest blorbo ever. the canon + logic surrounding death, wounds, and healing thereof doesn't apply to the FLPC the same way it applies to NPCs.

so. technically. going by my own rules. being a returned one it's not actually that far-fetched???¿¿? it's a way one can explain why the FLPC Cannot be permakilled. all FLPCs are, by the end of the day, mechanically immortal. well then. whatever. (cracks knuckles) let's go all in.

the ghostie, none the wiser: I'm here for a good time, not a long time! me: lol

wait, but the FLPC still dies!

they do indeed! going to the boat is the very proof of that process. the FLPC is sturdy as all hell but still gets lethally hurt. here's how I'm reasoning it: the magic only kicks in when the body falls apart. (also i think the boatman simply can't row them to the far shore bc of it lmao.)

it's less of an invulnerability thing and more of a phoenix thing: you moult away your damaged shell and come back to life to a fresh healthy body regenerated anew from your own remains.

(i was uncertain whether to make it so the damaged parts get entirely rebuilt or if something is left behind. since there apparently are hijinks in which the FLPC leaves behind body parts ill cover my bases)

this was how reisz was able to carry so many scars for so long. this is how they lived for almost two years with multiple sequelae of traumatic brain injury that, although diminished with time, never went away. they survived with their normal metabolism (being buried alive ended in a boatman ex machina, so they didn't smash their head in enough for their brains to spill all out. but they were very close. in evolution it was rather unclear whether the ex machina happened as well or if we simply finally starved to death).

there was no need for the cider that remade their flesh & imbues their cells to get to work, which is only when something extreme that would permakill anyone else happens.

like being torn to pieces by a zee-monster.

(before & after status illustrated below.)

tfw you lose part of the identity you didn't even realize you had, rip.

hence my new rule! :D reisz' body gets soft-reset every time i get them killed too dead. i enjoy drawing scars on characters that lead dangerous lives, and reisz abruptly discovered they quite cherished the ones they used to have (each one was a memory after all: the trajectory of their short-lived life), so that's some low stakes Consequences for me to be mindful of. hehe.

design-wise am gonna miss their anisocoria though 😔 the mismatched slit pupils made them look so silly

aside from the whole uhhh reviving from your own gore thing, rei gets a few bonus freak vitality points that could be suspicious when you look back knowing there's something... off about them, but would raise little alarm on its own. they:

heal much faster than other people, often skipping the inflammatory response stage altogether (i.e. the FLPC being able to go from Agony and Desperation to Scratches and Bruises in a matter of a few actions, leaving no consequence whatsoever.)

build tolerance stupidly fast and can't Actually get drunk (or hangover) for long. same with drugs :(

have never been sick. not a single cold. (just bc i genuinely dont remember a single mention of the FLPC getting sick? food poisoning is a whole other thing.)

a completely broken, mayhaps even missing, sense of fear. which in hindsight? explains a lot about the way they live their life.

these ^ are mostly from extrapolating what supercharging your white cells with immortal juice could result in, but there's an extra:

that weird fondness for bones & skeletons that makes them impulsively bring home whatever abandoned body part they come across? it stems from the fact that. well. reisz Was bones. reisz might not remember but the body always does.

#typing all this as a ref for myself tbh. technically a first draft. might have to tweak the mechanics as i find out more canon lore info #the whole evolution storyline gets a whole other narrative angle with them being Like That which pleases my brain a lot lol.#its a good thing that monster didnt destroy their head or else they'd get back from the boat memory wiped again i think #memories arent a biological/tangible part of your brain to be restored that way...#nemesis spoilers #fallen london #fallen london oc #the twilight phantom #chainrambles #originally i just made them have an inexplicable fondness for bones bc i needed a logical justification for the FLPC's inventory lmao.#what does someone that does Not deal in the bone market need 52 huge ass jurassic femurs for. why do you keep 8 random human arms rei.#sure 15 of these headless skeletons were gifts from the embassy but why did you carry 8 severely decomposed corpses home.????#pleased to have found a Lore Answer for that now. theres a feeling in their chest when rei comes across these sorts of abandoned dead thing #this is where their empathy went apparently

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isawthisangel · 2 years ago

Note

hiiiii!! i have this idea for a romeo and juliet style loki x male, prince!reader oneshot that i can't get out of my head :D would you possibly consider writing it if you like the concept too?

the base idea is truly just the romeo and juliet scenario - probably them meeting at a ball or something, love at first sight ensues, etc. other extra ideas i had were enemies to lovers, slight angst bc of it (so like... love at first sight with angst and yearning mixing) and masquerades, but naturally feel free to use or not and adjust them as you feel is best if you end up writing it <3

oh and this would also be in the golden age of asgard (yes, dreamer's ball anon here again <3)

(also, some songs that gave me the Vibe of it were middle of the night (by elley duhé), teeth (by 5 seconds of summer), tourner dans le vide (by indila), dancing with our hands tied (by taylor swift) and wanna be yours (by arctic monkeys)

tysm in advance, and i hope you're doing well!!!

~ 💙

How to hold a sword (Loki x reader)

word count -> 2k ish

plot summary -> loki and y/n bullying each other for ten minutes

a/n -> i hope this is something like what you had in mind anon ! i listened to the songs while i wrote (5sos are my favess) thank you so much for leaving requests ! (also this gif is driving me insane look at him ????? thank you for coming to my ted talk)

‘Your grip is wrong.’

You turn abruptly, annoyed. ‘What?’

Loki is stood behind you, watching silently. You hadn’t realised he was there until he’d announced himself. Rudely.

‘Your grip is wrong,’ he repeats, gesturing to the sword clutched in your hand. He looks bored and you are already infuriated by him, even though your conversation barely began five seconds ago.

‘My grip is fine,’ you tell him, turning away and repositioning your feet so that you can carry on with your training. It’s been a long day and you are not in the mood for one of his visits. You begin moving through the motions you’ve been taught, which you’ve been practicing for the better part of the afternoon, trying to quiet your mind.

Loki sighs loudly behind you, and you grit your teeth, ignoring him.

‘Look, you’re doing it wrong—’

You spin around and direct the tip of your sword at the Prince of Asgard’s throat, which he looks nothing short of delighted about. It might be the first time you’ve seen something like a semblance of a smile on his face. He raises his hands slowly along with one of his eyebrows, and the look of amusement on his face only serves to enrage you further.

‘Don’t think for a moment I won’t run you through with this blade,’ you tell him pleasantly.

‘I wouldn’t dream of it darling,’ he replies, and you scowl, dropping the sword to your side.

‘What do you want?’

‘I’ve been watching you,’ he says, looking over your head across the courtyard as he speaks as though he has other, more interesting places to be.

‘Yes. It’s starting to become tiresome,’ you reply, and he looks back to appraisingly like you’ve said something to please him.

‘I’m leaving. And you’re going to come with me.’

Your mouth falls slightly open and you find yourself wondering whether the man before you takes pleasure from confusing you constantly.

‘I hardly know you,’ you manage to say.

‘I am your Prince,’ he replies in a tone which very nearly makes you raise the sword back to his throat.

‘And I hardly know you,’ you repeat. You think you see his jaw twitch and hope that you’re annoying him.

‘What do you want to know?’ he asks, as if any one thing you could ask him would help to counter your confusion.

‘Why would you have me come with you?’

‘You tell me what you think of me. No one else will, it’s refreshing,’ he tells you shortly. ‘Anything else?’

There is everything else, but he seems to take your bemused silence as a sign that you have no further questions. ‘Good. We leave tomorrow.’

‘And if I don’t want to come?’ you ask, standing a little straighter.

‘Oh, but I know you do,’ he says, taking a step towards you. ‘And if you say a word about this to anyone—’ he continues, and your hand clutches at air as your sword appears in his hand instead and he levels it at your throat, his voice dangerously low. ‘Don’t think for a moment I won’t run you through with this blade.’

There’s real threat in his eyes as he looks at you; your breath catches as the tip of your sword comes to rest gently at the hollow of your throat.

‘Well?’ he asks softly when you don’t reply, lifting the blade a fraction of an inch to lift your chin up. Your heart is pounding in your chest, you’re not entirely sure he won’t make true on his claim and it’s only this that stops you from calling him something unspeakable.

‘Fine,’ you grit out, jerking your head away. He lowers the sword looking insufferably smug, until you snatch it back from him and turn away.

‘You’ll need to learn how to hold a sword properly,’ he says from behind you.

‘I know how to hold a sword properly,’ you scowl, adjusting your grip and repositioning your feet, again.

‘If you knew how to hold a sword properly I wouldn’t be able to do this,’ he tells you, and your sword flies unceremoniously from your hand, yanked away by some invisible force. You watch it land on the ground several feet away, baffled, sure that your grip had been perfect.

‘It’s not your fault. They don’t teach combat properly here anymore. It’s all etiquette now, as though that matters when you’re in the thick of it,’ Loki continues. You’re not quite listening, still wondering how he could have possibly known about your plans to leave Asgard. He summons the sword back to his hand and moves so that he’s stood in front of you, adjusting his grip so that he’s holding it in an entirely different way to how you’d been taught.

‘This is how you hold a sword.’

He passes it back to you, and you take it, adjusting your grip to match his. It feels instantly better, you have more control over the sword already.

‘I like my way better,’ you lie, for the sake of irritating him.

‘Then you are going to die very quickly,’ Loki replies amiably. ‘Will I see you at the ball this evening?’

You almost feel dizzy from the rate at which this conversation is moving.

‘Perhaps,’ you shrug noncommittally. Loki looks vaguely amused before turning and walking away without another word, leaving you holding your sword in a way which feels both alien and secure at the same time. You give it an experimental swing and it slices through the air with a precision which you’d been seeking not ten minutes before.

…

‘You look ridiculous.’

You spin around and see Loki stood behind you, having snuck up on you again.

‘Stop being so creepy. Why can’t you just say hello like a normal person?’ you ask him. He doesn’t reply, seemingly too busy looking you up and down. You cross your arms and lean back again the cool stone wall behind you in an attempt to get him to stop looking at you.

The ballroom is packed full with nobles and royals dressed in masquerade, clad in ludicrous masks and outrageous outfits, yourself included. You look back at Loki who has mercifully directed his attention at some other poor Asgardian. He looks just as ludicrous as everyone else.

‘Like what you see?’ he asks, and your expression goes from one of thinly veiled contempt to incredulity.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You were staring at me,’ he remarks, turning back to you.

‘I was just thinking about how stupid you look,’ you tell him. He smiles, which you hate. The sconce on the wall behind you holds a flame which illuminates one side of his face as he turns back to look out across the ballroom and you catch yourself before you can start admiring his side profile.

‘You didn’t tell anyone?’ he murmurs, so quietly you wonder if he’d said anything at all. You shake your head almost imperceptibly, still stood with your arms crossed. ‘Good,’ he nods, and then there is a great cheer and round of applause as a dance comes to an end.

Loki sighs. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any point asking you to dance.’

‘Why on Asgard would you ask me to dance?’ you ask him.

‘Forget it. I doubt you even know how,’ he says.

‘As if that’s going to work on me,’ you scoff, unmoving.

‘I bet you’re awful at it, the way you were moving earlier out in the courtyard—’

Before he can finish you’ve set off, making a beeline for a bored looking girl in a mask resting against the north wall of the ballroom. ‘Care to dance?’ you ask when you reach her, and she hesitates for a second before taking your hand.

‘I don’t really dance,’ she says as you lead her on to the dancefloor.

‘Me neither,’ you reply, making an extreme effort not to look at Loki as the jaunty music starts up once again. It’s been so long you’ve forgotten that you actually quite enjoy dancing, and by the time the song ends and the ballroom erupts into a cheer both you and the girl you’re dancing with are smiling.

Before you can remove yourself from the dancefloor or wipe the smile from your face the girl has been replaced with Loki, who looks far too self-satisfied for your liking.

‘So you can enjoy yourself,’ he says, and you make an effort not to scowl at him.

‘I suppose so.’

The music starts up again, but this time it’s considerably slower. You see your own panic reflected in Loki’s eyes behind his mask for a second, but then it’s gone and he’s reached out to pull you towards him. You’re halfway to protesting when your chest meets his and his hand comes to rest on your waist and quite abruptly you’ve forgotten what it was you were going to protest against.

‘Were you going to say something?’ he asks, fitting his hand which isn’t on your waist over one of your hands; your other hand lifts automatically to his shoulder. Were you?

‘No,’ you say, passionately hating how much taller than you he is. He starts to move and you follow his lead, wondering how you can avoid acknowledging the fact that he’s a very good dancer.

‘Ask me more questions about leaving,’ he mutters into the space just above your ear.

‘I thought I wasn’t allowed to talk about it.’

‘Obviously you can talk about it to me,’ he says, and you think you can detect a hint of an eye roll in his voice. It nearly makes you smile. ‘I know you have more questions.’

‘How did you know?’

‘Know what?’

‘That I was planning to leave.’

He’s silent for a moment before replying, which makes you wonder if he really had known about your plan to leave after all.

‘I know a lost soul when I see one. You don’t belong here, just the same as me.’

‘You’re the Prince of this place, as you seem to so love reminding everyone. What possible reason could you have for wanting to leave?’

‘If you’re really asking me that question then you’re even stupider than you seem,’ he replies shortly. You don’t reply, moving to the music and the shuffle and chatter of a hundred other people around you in silence.

‘Ask me something else,’ he says eventually.

‘Can I trust you?’

He pulls back to look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his mask.

‘Can I trust you?’

‘That’s not an answer.’

‘My answer depends upon yours.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Then I don’t know either.’

For some reason this makes you smile. ‘Okay.’

‘That’s it? You don’t want to know where we’re going?’

‘I bet you don’t know yet.’

Loki scoffs. ‘Of course I know where we’re going.’

‘Fine,’ you say, watching him as he looks away over the top of your head again. ‘I trust you.’

If you hadn’t been inches away from him you might have missed the small, sharp inhale, the brief flash of something in his eyes at your words. ‘I wouldn’t, if I were you.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ you say, waiting for him to meet your gaze. When he finally does, he looks almost uneasy.

‘Don’t get familiar,’ he says, and you’re not sure whether he’s talking to himself or you.

‘I wouldn’t dream of it, darling,’ you reply.

Loki looks away, biting the insides of his cheeks to keep himself from smiling. He’s sure he’s chosen well.

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