#i should start writing an actual personal diary again

[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑

w.c › 6.6k

warnings › bottom male reader. A faceclaim for him, if you need visuals. Based on my short Drabble. Changed some things to keep it fresh.

plot › a stalker (you) who becomes an idol, experiences withdrawn feelings from not being able to stalk your bae anymore due to scheduling issues. So your sister forces you to make some online friends, one you get particularly close to.

kinks › phone sex

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

Arakawa Naoki had a stalker.

Naoki couldn’t exactly remember when you began watching him. He just randomly noticed you appearing in places you weren’t before. At first he was creeped out—wondering what trusted adult he should tell.

Until he saw you trip over your own shoelace when trying to discreetly follow him into a grocery store.

Then he just started seeing you as a kid who wanted attention but would rather die than directly ask for it.

You were pretty harmless. After six months of your ‘stalking’, you began leaving him gifts and food. It was mostly his favorites too. How could he not appreciate you?

Once he had graduated middle school and moved to high school, he honestly expected to never see you again. Until he noticed you in his assigned classroom. Judging by how quickly you shoved a book in your face—you weren’t expecting him.

His luck.

That’s when he learned your name.

Momoi (Name).

Your last name was cute. Peach well? Adorable even.

He couldn’t find you scary at all. Though your classmates seemed to disagree. No one would talk to you or even glance your way unless they had no choice. He didn’t understand why, you were cute.

Sure, you didn’t put any efforts into your looks. Your tie was a mess, white shoes that were caked with dirt, cardigan missing buttons, a strange black stain on your blouse. Your face was permanently in a frown, eyes staring off into space if they weren’t looking at Naoki.

Okay.

Okay, maybe you weren’t cute to the average person.

But Naoki saw past that. He began paying attention to you—how could he not? He noticed that you were into music. One of the rare times you actually did something that wasn’t dedicated to him.

He saw you staring almost longingly at the music club last week. But you didn’t attempt to walk into the room, opting to quickly walk away.

You hardly knew how to hide your diary, having it out on your desk, wide open even when you left to the restroom. It made sense, no one ever went near you at all. Only Naoki cared enough to see what you could’ve possibly written.

5月10日 Arakawa-San recently got a bad haircut.. it’s really bad… but he’s still cute… so I’ll ignore it

5月11日 Sis keeps bothering me to audition, stupid. How do you nicely tell someone to shut up?

5月16日 Sis told me writing in the diary everyday would help me but honestly I feel like a psycho. Besides, I’m not sure what to write sometimes, should I just put nonsense?

5月17日 クククククククククククククククララララララララララ, おぉ〜 ??????? 悲しい嬉しい !!!!!!!! What if I jumped in front of the train, would it be an instant death? Hm

Mostly nonsense for the most part. Especially after May 17th. Seemed like you gave up actually writing your feelings in it. Oh well, it was a nice look into his weird stalker.

“Don’t you think Momoi-San is a bit… strange…?”

Naoki glanced up from your diary. He had taken it up from your desk yesterday and it seemed you hadn’t noticed yet. You were both now seniors and were once again in the same class.

“What do you mean?” Naoki questioned, glancing back at your diary. His friend, Nakamura groaned as he rubbed at his hair. He scooted closer which caused Naoki to quickly position your diary so Nakamura couldn’t get a passing glance.

“I feel like he follows you around! I’ve just started noticing!”

Naoki held back a laugh. Nakamura was about four years late.

“You’re imagining things. Why would anyone follow me? I’m not anyone important.”

“I guess… but…”

10月4日 Momo-Chan died yesterday. I didn’t think hamsters could live ten years. Sis really cared for that rodent

11月7日 I’ve been watching 悪い髪 for four years now but I haven’t even spoken to him this is bad, I got rejected from the university he applied to I haven’t even told mom and dad I only applied to one… they’ll kill me

12月19日 forgot I had this stupid thing sis is dragging me to an audition next year maybe by then she’ll forget I can just be a full time stalker

3月23日 she didn’t forget—it’s next week. Oh god, 行きたくない、行きたくない！姉さん、お願いだから

“Naoki! Since when did you read???” Nakamura snapped his fingers, catching Naoki’s attention.

“What?” Naoki closed the diary and shook his head, “you have no proof. No sense in getting paranoid over hearsay. Just leave it alone.”

Nakamura sighed and rolled his eyes, “fine. But I’m not being weird, that guys a freak. I won’t be surprised if he has nothing going for him after we graduate.”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

もとも

To say Nakamura was dead wrong would be an understatement. You and your sister must’ve went to that audition and passed with flying colors. Because next thing Naoki knew was that you were on a poster at his part time job with your sister, teasing your debut. Mo to Mo.

You had cleaned up nice for the photoshoot, Naoki felt validated for thinking you were cute underneath all that ‘dirt.’ It seemed the agency was leaning heavily into an alternative and more edgy look with you and your sister.

Naoki didn’t think he’d ever seen your bare arms before until that poster. That stare that your past classmates saw as terrifying was oddly sensually. He was happy that you had something going for yourself, his stalker.

But…

He didn’t expect that meant he’d only get to see you on the tv from now on.

2 years later

“(Name), stop wallowing in your stolen hoodie please. You can’t keep getting so sad every time it’s his birthday.” Hiyori, your sister said, kicking your back as she walked past you to the kitchen.

You only whimpered, curling into Naoki’s sweater that you stole on December 19th, your 2nd year at high school. He had left it in his locker one day and you just wanted it, luckily he often forgot to lock his locker.

“But… Sis…” You whined, wiping away a few tears with your hand. “I only know what university he went to… I have no time to see him anymore.”

“It’s not like you ever spoke to him.” Hiyori muttered, tossing an apple up and down as she walked back over to living room. She kicked you once more before plopping down onto the couch, resting her feet on your body.

You made no effort to move. “But… I liked seeing him… even if didn’t say anything to him. Seeing him.. helped.”

“You’re lucky he never noticed just how insane you are. You could’ve been in jail right now.”

“Mhm.” You glanced over at your phone, tapping on the screen. “Do you think he’s having a good birthday?”

Hiyori only hummed, “maybe. Arakawa Naoki, right? How’d you even start stalking him?”

“He helped me.”

“Helped. Yea, that’s enough information,” Hiyori shook her head, deciding she was done with you for the time being. She began tapping away at her phone, occasionally giggling. Probably her girlfriend.

You watched the time tick on your phone, right when it reached midnight. The day was now December 25th, Christmas Day. No longer Arakawa Naoki’s birthday. You groaned and turned off your phone, glancing over at Hiyori.

“Merry Christmas…”

“Merry Christmas. Let’s go to the aquarium, that’ll cheer you up.” Hiyori said, taking her feet off your body.

“Aquarium…” You muttered, shifting over to glance up at her. “Tokyo Sea Life Park?”

“If that’s what you want. It shouldn’t be too busy when we go.”

It was very busy.

“What the hell?” Hiyori groaned, pulling down her hat to cover her face. She squeezed past a group of students pressed against the windows. “Tch, these kids have no respect. Hogging up the glass, can’t even see shit.”

You hummed absentmindedly, glancing around. “It’s fine. I just want to see the voyagers.” Your face was properly covered with a mask and sunglasses, a hat resting on the top of your head.

“It’s a Sunday—why are so many people here! I’m sweating too much.” Hiyori complained, her mask slipping down a bit. “Go off without me, I need a water.”

“You sure?”

“Go!” She waved you off, already walking away.

“Ah, okay..” You only shrugged. Better to let her cool off than aggravate her any further. You dodged and weaved through the crowds, coming across couples and families that were taking photos of the fish. It had been two years since visiting Tokyo Sea Life Park in Edogawa City.

You’d come frequently on Mondays and Wednesdays because Naoki would usually have baseball practice. Despite how much you loved him, watching him practice could only be so much fun after awhile.

“Look, isn’t he cute?”

“Ah, don’t point at him! It’s rude.”

“Is he a model?”

“You can’t even see his face, his hat’s hiding it!”

You glanced over at the two girls whispering about, not paying any attention to the fish swimming behind them. Ah, young love. Cute. You shook your head and looked over at the sign on the walls. Voyagers of the Sea… Voyagers of the Sea…

“Excuse me, are you looking for something?”

“Ah,” you glanced up, coming face to face with an employee. They were dressed a bit weird. Wearing a hat and mask. Could employees wear something like that? “Uh, hm, where’s the Voyagers of the Sea? It’s been awhile since I’ve been here.”

The employee turned their head to the map on the wall, muttering to themselves. Shouldn’t an employee know where everything is? You were about to just tell them to forget when they suddenly reached over and grabbed your hand.

“I found it. C’mon.” They sounded like a man. You gasped as he tugged you along. The path was bumpy, constantly having to skid to a stop due to the large crowds. You winced each time you bumped right into his back. Gosh, he had broad shoulders.

Two more sharp turns and another knock to your nose on his shoulder, you arrived at the Voyagers of the Sea. You rubbed your nose, groaning to yourself before glancing over at the tanks.

You couldn’t help but grin. “It’s still pretty.” You whispered mainly to yourself, stepping close to the glass. “Bluefin tuna,” you pointed as it swam past, “eagle ray, scalloped hammerhead.”

“Y’know,” you glanced back at the employee who was standing near you. He hadn’t left yet surprisingly. “Bluefin tuna are the largest tuna species. My sister says they’re also the tastiest. And scalloped hammerheads have a 360-degree vision, but then that means they can’t see in front of them. One time, when I was here as a student, one of the fishes was hiding in front of the scalloped hammerhead’s nose. And—”

“—You really like these things. Are you a marine biologist?” He suddenly interrupted you, tilting his head.

“Oh, sorry. I’m not. I couldn’t study something like that.” You didn’t elaborate. You glanced down at your hand, the employee’s hand casually holding yours. “Uhm. You, uh, don’t need to—”

“—Sorry.” He quickly dropped your hand as if he was burned. “Sorry. You just have… soft hands. Very comfortable.”

“Thanks,” you glanced at his name tag. “Nakamura-San.”

“Naka—?” He interrupted himself letting out a laugh, nodding slightly. “Right, right… I’m Nakamura.”

“Mhm. That’s what your name tag says.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Nakamura laughed. “Do you have anymore fish facts?”

“Aren’t you working right now? I don’t want to bore you.”

“It’s okay. I’m interested in learning.”

“Ah. Okay. Well, hammerheads give birth to live pups, and usually a female hammerhead can fertilize her own eggs without a male. But as soon as she has the pups, the baby hammerheads learn how to survive all on their own.”

“Really? They don’t need a parent?”

“No. They do just fine.”

“Self sufficient.” Nakamura hummed, pulling down his hat. “You’re interesting. Are you in school?”

“No. I uhm, work in the music industry.”

Nakamura perks up at that, looking over at you. Though you weren’t too sure due to his hat covering his eyes. “Really? Do you know Mo to Mo?”

You felt yourself freeze. “Ah, uhm, I’ve heard of them…”

“My friend really likes them. She blasts their music all the time, I think I know the lyrics by heart by now.”

“Mhm, they’re good, so I’ve heard.”

“Yea, have you—”

“—It’s Momoi Hiyori!!!!”

“Hiyori-San, sign my tits please!!!”

“Sign my forehead!!!”

“Momoi Hiyori?” Nakamura whispered as you felt yourself panic. The sounds of fans grew louder with the accompaniment of loud heels clicking against the floor.

There, your sister, hat long gone and mask off entirely, was sprinting your way. She was frantically motioning for you to start running as a crowd of fans were right on her heels.

“Crap.” You whispered, ready to book it but Nakamura grabbed your arm.

“Wait! Can I get your LINE ID?”

“LINE ID?” You whispered in shock. Only your family and manager had your LINE ID.

“Hurry up, Seabrain!!!!” Hiyori yelled, rushing past you.

You cursed and pulled out your phone, fumbling to open up LINE and show your QR code. “Here, here. Just scan it and add me.”

Nakamura rushed to scan the code, humming once he got it. “I got it. Let’s—” but as soon as he glanced back up, you were long gone.

“—hang out sometime…?”

He pulled off his hat and rubbed at his head. “He’s fast…” he glanced down at his phone and looked at your account.

Account Name: シーブレイン

“ぱらぱら” — 好きです

The profile picture was of a koi fish, a hand reaching into the pond to touch its scales.

“Seabrain? Cute.”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

ナオイス

シーブレインちゃん, hi~ it’s ’Nakamura’

“Good, good. Lean down further, please. Beautiful.” The photographer said. The sounds of camera flashing and continuous talking almost caused you to miss your phone ringing. Which was strange.

You had little to no contacts. Who could be texting you? It had been nearly two weeks since you had went to Tokyo Sea Life Park. You opened LINE and were surprised to see a request.

“Naoise? Naoise?” You struggled to pronounce the name, tilting your head. What type of name was that? It was just nonsense. “Seabrain-Chan? Is he making fun of me…?” You huffed and turned off your phone, placing it face down on the table.

“Who’s making fun of who?”

You squeaked, glancing up to see Hiyori. She was dressed in a skintight bodysuit, hair slicked back with copious amounts of gel, sharp dark eyeliner and black lipstick. “Hah, answer me.” She said, reaching over to grab your phone.

“Ah, wait!” You reached over to stop her but she easily grabbed both of your wrists in one hand and unlocked your phone.

“Hm? N-Nao-Naoise? Hm, strange name. Seabrain-Chan, hi, it’s Nakamura. Who’s Nakamura?”

“Just an employee at the Tokyo Sea Life Park. He asked for my LINE ID before we had to leave.” You grunted, trying to pull your hands free. How the hell was your sister stronger than you?

“Aren’t you going to answer him? He’s your first contact that’s not family or a coworker. Here, I’ll answer for you.”

“Wait!!”

シーブレイン

(⌒▽⌒)☆ hey, Nakamura-Kun~ I thought you’d never text me

“Are you insane?! Why did you use the a text face?!” You whined, as Hiyori showed you the text she sent. “And I sound so desperate!”

“Why not? It’s cute.”

“Cute?!” You groaned. “Not at all, only kids use that!”

“Not true. My girlfriend sends them to me all the time.” She released your wrists and hands over your phone, pulling out her own to text her girlfriend. “Anyway, talk to this Nakamura guy, maybe he’ll get you to forget Arakawa.”

You frowned. There’s no way you’d ever forget him. Not someone like him.

ナオイス

Aren’t you cute? 悪いな, 海洋くん。

I got busy, my parents and siblings came to visit me since they missed my birthday Couldn’t refuse them

Marine-Kun? You rolled your eyes. Well, it wasn’t like he knew your name. You didn’t really feel like entertaining this any longer but you thought about how your life has been so far. Sure, you technically had fans but you did feel a bit lonely.

Back then, you could watch Naoki and feel moderately okay. Just seeing him was good enough to brighten your mood. But you haven’t been able to see him in two whole years.

Maybe you should… try to forget him?

You shuddered at the thought. Okay. Not forget him. Just, gain a friend.

シーブレイン

気にしない 。

I was busy too. I have to prepare for an upcoming single

ナオイス

Single? Woah

Are you a producer? Songwriter?

シーブレイン

Ah

“Sis!!!” You suddenly shot up, startling Hiyori. She glared at you. “What should I do?”

“What? Why are you screaming?”

“I told him I have to prepare for a single! But! I don’t know what to say? Who do I pretend to be? A singer? Or maybe a makeup artist? Songwriter? I told him I worked in the music industry, I can’t possibly be a makeup artist, oh what should say—!”

“Just say you’re a backup vocalist and are participating in the music video.”

“Ah.” You grin. “Smart. You’re so smart, Big Sis!” You give her a wet kiss on the cheek that she quickly wipes away with a groan, turning your attention back to your phone.

シーブレイン

Backup vocalist. I was just asked to participate in the music video.

ナオイス

mjk? すごい！

You’re cool. I’m just studying meteorology.

Probably become a weather forecaster ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

シーブレイン

Weather forecaster? Is that what you want?

ナオイス

No way

I was a baseball player but

Fucked up left leg, it was bound to happen, I already sprained it once

シーブレイン

それな are you okay now?

ナオイス

Yea. It’s been a year now, I’m

ksnjdnwbdow

You froze, raising an eyebrow. “Ksnjd… is this roman alphabet slang I don’t know?” You began typing the letters into the search bar when he suddenly texted you again.

ナオイス

悪いな。

I need to head back to work, almost got caught by my boss (＞人＜;)

See ya~ シュモクザメ (^_^)/~~~

“Hammerhead shark?” You grumbled, unable to hide the slight smile on your lips. “He’s going to call me everything in the ocean…” you finally took the time to actually see his profile picture. It was of a teddy bear, brown with an eye missing, close to the camera. Though you could still see the background of beach sand.

“That was fast, did you forget about Arakawa by now?”

“Never!”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“I’m not doing that again, Nakamura, those aquariums are stressful.”

Naoki sighed, shoving his phone into his back pocket. His hair was pulled into a ponytail as he slipped on some gloves. He began cutting up some fish.

“Why are you even in the kitchen?”

Nakamura rolled his eyes, “it’s my mom’s restaurant, I can go wherever. But c’mon, please? They’re only free on Sunday and I used up most of my vacation days already.”

“Sorry, I can hardly handle standing in here for three hours straight. I’m not doing your job for you again.” Naoki held up the knife, pointing it at Nakamura when he attempted to get close.

“Didn’t you get some guys LINE ID because of me?”

“Because of you?” Naoki chuckled, shaking his head. “Keep talking and you’ll replace this tuna.” He slid the knife clean against the tuna’s body, the head off without a second slice.

Nakamura rubbed his neck. “Sheesh. Fine fine. I’ll figure something out… so cruel. Ah, that Momoi kid is having a comeback soon. Do you still keep up with him?”

“No.” Naoki muttered, pulling out the spine from the tuna. “I haven’t since my accident. He stopped stalking me.”

“I still can’t believe you actually liked that he was stalking you.”

“You wouldn’t get it. But I’ve gotten over him, alright?”

“I’m glad I don’t. Try to form a healthy relationship with this new guy, okay?”

“Stop asking me to take your Sunday shifts for your mysterious babe, okay?”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

4 years ago

You were a senior in middle school, staring down at the lake beneath you. Your shoes were placed down beside you. Your backpack resting on the ground as you peered over the railing. You were a bit short back then, still lagging behind the other boys who were finally getting tall.

Hiyori had teased you’d probably end up her height. Lo and behold you were only an inch taller than her in the present.

“Is that… hm, what’s that one?” You whispered, pushing on your toes a little, trying to see what was floating above the water. It was a bit hard to see—the sun going down being your only source of light.

“They really need to make more light posts.”

You pulled at your uniform to only to feel your button pop loose, falling into the lake below. A curse was on the tip of your tongue as you looked down. It fell with a quiet plop, not even making enough noise or movement to seemingly bother the inhabitants of the lake.

The drop wasn’t high by any means. But the lake wasn’t safe for people to get in. It was deep and the current was surprisingly fast. Once you got swept in, it would be hard to leave. You were honestly wondering if this was actually a lake. It had to have been a river that was just unnaturally wide.

As you pondered what to actually call the body of water underneath the bridge, you heard someone yell.

You glanced to your left just before you tackled to the ground. A delayed cry left your lips from the sudden force. You awaited the pain but didn’t feel anything. The person who tackled you had managed to take the fall damage, now that you were laying atop of them.

You slowly gazed down, noting their middle school uniform, and to your shock—a leg brace on their left leg. A shocked gasp left your lips, catching sight of their forgotten crutches on the ground not too far from you.

This person… was insane?

Said person began to cough violently, their hands digging into your back. You sat up and made sure to not accidentally touch their left leg. The sunset was your only light at this point. Yellow-orange rays shined down on the boy beneath you.

His black hair formed around on the ground, resembling a halo. A little cut on his cheek. On his right cheek there was a mole, almost directly on his cheekbones. His hands slowly slide down your back before falling limply to the ground.

“Hey… Oi. Did you hit your head?!” You whispered, reaching down to touch the back of his head. Sure enough, as you brought your hand back, there was a bit of blood on the tip of your fingers.

You fished out your phone and quickly called for an ambulance. As you waited, you heard a little laugh. You glanced down to see the boy staring up at you, his lips slowly pulling into a little grin.

“At least..” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “The ambulance is for me.”

“What…? I—did you think I was going to jump?”

He didn’t answer, his gaze unfocusing. You gently rubbed his cheek, hoping to keep him awake.

“I was just looking at the water. I’m sorry, please don’t be too hurt because of me…” You frowned. The only reason your shoes were off was because the right shoe had torn open. You were just waiting for Hiyori to get back from the nearby convenience store with some flip flops.

Now you were waiting for an ambulance.

“Prob… just a concussion.” He suddenly whispered, humming slightly. “Don’t worry.”

“Don’t fall asleep. What’s your name?”

“Arakawa.. Naose.”

“Naose?”

“Se?” He began to giggle. “Did I say se? Nice? Ki… meant Ki.. Naoki…”

“Naoki?”

“Hm?”

“Stay awake, please. They’re almost here. Think about, ah, maybe the amount of sea life that can live in a river. How they live different to like, uh, ponds or lakes? Do you like koi fish?”

“Sorry… but that’s really boring…” He muttered, groaning. “I’m falling asleep.”

“Sea life is boring to you?”

“Very… but it’s nice that you like it. I think.. I like.. the sky? Dunno, heheh. Koi fish, is that your name?”

“Huh?”

“Koi-Kun, you… hehe, should be… hm… what was I gonna say?” He began to giggle, raising one hand to gently point at your nose. “Do you, poke fish noses?”

“Fish noses?”

“The weathers nice.” He changed the subject, eyes struggling to stay open. “Y’know… legs’ real ‘urt. Tink ade t rse. Heheh.. ably never play gain.”

“Play what?” You gently patted his face, causing him to open his eyes again.

“Baseball. Mhm… just for a second… lemme..”

You tapped him again. “Stay awake please.”

“So mean…” he gazed over at you, a little smile on his lips. “You…. Pretty.. in a weird way. Koi-Kun.”

The sound of sirens caught your attention before you could respond. “Ah, they’re here! Hey, hey, Naoki-San, Naoki-San!”

That was how you met him, giving him a concussion and perhaps ruining his baseball career.

Young love (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎)

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

ナオイス

くらげさん, おはよう～(・ω・)ノ slept well?

シーブレイン

Jellyfish? That’s new, are you going to stick with a nickname or just keep calling me new ones each time?

ナオイス

∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ of course～ でも！you know the kanji for jellyfish, right?

シーブレイン

海月? Umi? Tsuki?

ナオイス

Ya, Sea Moon, if you directly translate it in English wwwww

It’s what I think of you, cold and deep, so mysterious, like the sea～ and round, bright, and shiny, like the moon～

シーブレイン

Bright? The moon?

Most people wouldn’t agree with that, the moon doesn’t provide its own light

ナオイス

Right

But it still shines, even if it needs some help

Think of me as your sun, helping you shine,

Sea Moon～ (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎)

Later, I have class

“Holy shit.” Hiyori cursed, staring at your phone in shock.

You and ‘Nakamura’ have been chatting for around two months now. The conversations were pretty boring for the most part. Honestly you assumed he’d stop talking to you due to how dry and cold you were. But he’d always respond quickly.

He always made time to respond to you. He even said his name wasn’t ‘Nakamura’ but he never told you his actual name. Not like you asked, you probably should.

He was really into using text faces. At first you viewed them as childish but you got used to them. They could be cute, occasionally.

You two shared pictures but never of yourselves. Just of dinner or any other item that was interesting enough.

“He.. he must like you!” Hiyori whispered, looking over at you. “Who could say something so.. casually?!”

“He can’t. He doesn’t even know what I look like! Or who I actually am! He’d freak out.”

“I doubt that.” Hiyori sighed, rubbing her hands through her hair. “You should try sending something, see if he’s just those friends who are poetic platonically.”

“What would I send?”

“Something sexy.”

“No way.”

You sighed, rubbing at your face as you stared down at your phone. Okay, you’ve always had a problem with saying no to your sister’s ideas. After some goading, you reluctantly took a video.

Hiyori already told you what to say once you pressed send. The video was just of you recording yourself in one of the outfits for your recent music video. It was one of your more scandalous outfits, skin tight pants with holes throughout. A see through shirt and a choker. Chains decorated the outfit.

It was a whole thing.

The video was only about ten seconds. You made sure to have your face out of frame as you pointed your phone down at your pants. There was a mirror right across from you, you laid on a couch, legs spread out, back slightly arched. Your hand was shaky as slid down to your crotch.

Pants button was already open as you gently gripped the edge of your shit that was tucked into the pants, slowly pulling it out. The slightest glance at the thin, tight black briefs you wore before quickly ending the video.

Hiyori’s ‘excuse’ was a simple and planned: “oooh, sorry sorry! I didn’t mean to send this video!” Then you’d send a normal video just showcasing your outfit in the mirror, standing up.

Good enough excuse since you could feign innocence, both videos did have you in the same outfit. And so long as you goaded ‘Nakamura’ into asking for what you wore for the video—it’d make sense.

Hiyori had said that ‘Nakamura’ would either forget and push past the video, or get horny.

You didn’t know what exactly you wanted.

You were a bit scared at the thought of making him uncomfortable—losing your first and only friend you have right now. But there was a small little part of you that was curious, deadly curious to how he felt about you.

ナオイス

Did you go to bed yet?

I can’t sleep (｡ ́︿ ̀｡)

You shot up from bed, staring at your phone.

This was your chance.

シーブレイン

Still awake

Is everything okay?

ナオイス

I’m ok (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵) just a bit of pain in my leg again

But it stops after a few minutes

What～did～you～do～today～？ᶘ ᵒᴥᵒᶅ

シーブレイン

I filmed the music video

It was for a b-side song for the artist’s album that came out a few weeks ago

Very fun, so busy, the outfits were nice

ナオイス

wowowo ♪( ´θ｀)ノ すごいね！

What were the outfits? The singer didn’t make you wear trash bags so you wouldn’t outshine them, right~? (ﾟoﾟ;;

Today I just had class, my friend was blasting Mo to Mo’s new album, it’s catchy

シーブレイン

ww no they didn’t do that

We got good outfits

Oh, you changed your profile pic

You glanced at his picture, taking note of the new one. It was of that same teddy bear now directly in the sand. A human hand held out a peace sign, acting as if that was the teddy bear’s own hand.

シーブレイン

You really like that teddy bear

ナオイス

You noticed?

Yea, I do, it was given to me in my senior year at middle school

Don’t remember who gave it to me, just woke up in the hospital with it in my arms

Mom said the person left a note, just telling me sea life isn’t boring wwwwwwww ╭(╯3╰)╮

Anyway~ send send!!

You paused. Sea life isn’t boring? No, it couldn’t be. You shook your head. Sure, it was very specific, but—you couldn’t be the only person to write a note like that. Besides, that teddy bear is basic. Yea, it’s not you. No way. No, way.

You rubbed your face as you pulled up the video. You hesitated. Should you really do this? Wouldn’t it be more mature to just ask him if he might like you romantically? That would be smarter. Less manipulative.

Not like you could talk. You stalked a boy for four years straight. The only reason you stopped was because your schedule was overwhelming and any free time you had, you just wanted to sleep. Besides, you didn’t know where Arakawa Naoki really was anyway.

Sure you knew the school but it was a well known and large university. There were so many students. You didn’t even know what major he went in for. It’d take you awhile to find him.

Just as you were debating to yourself, your finger pressed against the screen. You glanced down to see that you sent the risky video.

Well—

You almost screamed in panic, ready to unsend the message but it was too late. It showed that he saw it. He viewed it. He more than likely just finished watching the full ten seconds.

Oh god.

It was a slow and agonizing minute as you stared at your phone, almost waiting for him to cuss you out. But instead, you got a video.

Your finger hovered over the video before pressing play. You quickly paused it though, reaching over for your headphones. Even if your room was on the other side of the shared apartment, you didn’t want to risk it.

After a deep breath and the little beep telling you the headphones were connected—you pressed play once more.

The video was a bit dark, the soft glow of the moonlight being your only light. A shuddered sigh left ‘Nakamura’ before he pointed the camera to his pajama pants. He tugged at the waistband, pulling it far before letting it snap right back against his skin.

A tight grunt left him just as the video ended.

ナオイス

Am I overthinking things?

It wasn’t an accident, right?

シーブレイン

It technically was

But I recorded the video with you in mind

Silence. You almost wondered if you went too far.

ナオイス

Can you show me more?

シーブレイン

Like another video?

ナオイス

Yea

I’ll send too

Not even a second later, he sent another video. You didn’t hesitate to play it. The video was mostly silence, the sound of sheets rustling as he kept the camera at his pants. His free hand returned to the waistband and tugged, but this time his pulled it further down.

You expected him to have been wearing boxers but to your surprise, his cock was now free. It was already leaking wet—coating white pre cum on his soft stomach. Now free, his hand grasped his cock, his thumb rubbing the pre cum across the head.

ナオイス

Kinda, hard to type one handed

Do me a favor

Masturbate like you’re alone

Don’t hold back

Your body involuntarily shivers as you reach over and turn on your fairy lights, allowing a little bit of light. You pointed the camera to your lower half, kicking the sheets off the bed.

You hesitated for just a moment before pressing record. Should you talk? You didn’t really speak a lot in general unless spoken to. Shaking your head, you slip two fingers into your mouth and suck, coating them with your saliva.

Despite feeling a little anxious, you didn’t attempt to muffle the wet sounds. You pulled your hand away and reached down, using your thumb to pull down your boxers. Your cock plopped out free, beginning to harden due to your rising excitement.

A low sigh left your lips as you reached down between your legs. Because of the angle, he wouldn’t be able to see much. But he would be able to hear the squelch as you easily slipped in two fingers inside your ass.

He would be dumb to not realize you must’ve masturbated an hour or so ago.

You ended the video just as your cock sprung to life, pressing send immediately. The wait for his response almost felt like torture. Your cock leaking dejectedly on your stomach. Your legs shifted on the bed as you tried not to continue on to reach your third orgasm of the night.

Not even a minute later he replied to you.

His video was straight to the point—the teasing long forgotten.

His hand grasped his cock as he jerked himself off. The sound of his shallow breaths and wet gasps filled your ears. You forgot all about recording another video, thrusting your fingers in and out, easily reaching your prostate.

You dropped your phone and gripped your cock, sighing at the relief. His moans were driving you insane—you wanted to hear it in person. Wanted to be the one touching him. Hearing every sharp gasp, watching his body shake from the pleasure.

“….gonna.. cum…”

A grunt your lips at his words. It sounded as if he struggled to even say those two words, his voice wet and shaky. You couldn’t hold back anymore. Being overstimulated from your previous masturbation didn’t help. A rub right against your prostate and a wet stroke of your cock, you were cumming right as he released a wet whimper.

You bit your lip to muffle yourself as much as possible, eyes threatening to roll to the back of your head. Your phone pinged again just as you remembered you forgot to record something.

ナオイス

Sorry, haven’t really

Properly masturbated in awhile

Did you cum at least?

シーブレイン

ええ

I came early too, don’t worry about it

It’ll be longer next time

ナオイス

Next time? ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

Do you like me, Sea Moon~?

You paused. You liked him enough to masturbate but. You wiped your dirty hands on your boxers. The word like was always associated with Arakawa Naoki.

Even now. Even after your little session with ‘Nakamura’…

You could only see a mole on a cheek and messy hair.

No. You didn’t like him.

Just as you were about to respond, he sent a picture. You opened it without a second thought, expecting a risky photo.

But the sight caused you pause.

It was of him.

‘Nakamura’.

Even with only the moonlight as your guide, you knew him. You knew Arakawa Naoki. Even if only half of his face was visible. The infamous teddy bear was in his arms. Half of his face resting on the pillow, a shy grin on his lips.

The mole rested on the same spot it always has, greeting you in the moonlight.

His hair messy and wild. You wondered if you were delusional for thinking it looked like it formed into a halo on the pillow.

ナオイス

Since you can’t actually see me

Post sex wwww (*ﾉωﾉ)

Pretty, right~?

神ってるね?

You couldn’t think. What should you say? Of course he was pretty. He’s been the only person you’ve ever constantly thought about. Even in two years that you haven’t seen him—he’s only gotten more beautiful.

But, you couldn’t possibly do this to him. Stalking him for four years and suddenly you had semi phone sex with him. Sure Hiyori never out right said anything but you knew she wanted you to act more ‘normal.’

Especially with you now in the public eye. You can’t just watch him in the shadows. You were an adult, you had fans, two years of leaving Arakawa Naoki alone to live his life peacefully.

You should end it here.

But here’s the thing about you.

You needed Arakawa Naoki as much as you needed air to breathe.

And here he was, offering himself on a silver platter.

Two years without him and it felt like torture. It felt as if you couldn’t live without him. Before you could watch him from afar and survive but now…

Now you can’t stand by anymore.

You’ve experienced life without Arakawa Naoki and you promised yourself to never experience it again.

シーブレイン

荒川直樹

ナオイス

???

Huh? How’d you get my name?

From my account? Did I tell you and just forgot?

You smirked at your phone, going to your account and changing your name. It really was him. To think he returned your affection after all these years.

シームーン

You probably don’t even know my name, but I’ve been watching you since our senior year in middle school

I thought I lost you

But you’re here, it’s like you were waiting for me

Were you, Arakawa-San?

ナオイス

Momoi-San…?

Did you

You knew this entire time?

You ignore me for two years then knowingly make me believe I’m texting someone else this whole time?

You’re sick, is that singing career of yours not fun enough? Your girlfriend?

Some man you are — I hope the videos were worth it

He was typing too fast for you to even respond to one of his messages. Girlfriend? You didn’t know he was Arakawa until today, what the hell was he talking about?

シームーン

What? What are you talking about?

Hello?

Arakawa-San?

Each message you sent was sent with an error. You tore off your headphones as you sat up, staring down at your phone in complete shock.

He blocked you.

Lol. Yall want a part two? You’re basically turning into a yandere btw. Comment if you wanna be tagged!

Words/Slangs:

クククククククククククククククララララララララララ, おぉ〜 ??????? 悲しい嬉しい !!!!!!!! — Kukukukukukukukukukukukuku Klaralalalalalalalala, ohhh ??????? Sad and happy !!!!!!!!

悪い髪 — bad hair

行きたくない、行きたくない！姉さん、お願いだから — I don't want to go, I don't want to go! Please, sister

“ぱらぱら” — 好きです — “parapara” I love it (it’s the Japanese onomatopoeia for rain sounds)

悪いな, 海洋くん — sorry, marine-kun

気にしない 。— don’t worry

mjk? — まじか (majika) Roman alphabet slang. Means “really”

すごい！— amazing

それな — Sorena, to express sympathy

くらげさん, おはよう～ — morning, Jellyfish-San

でも — but

wwwwww — Japanese’s lol or lmao

ええ — mhm

神ってるね? — heaven-sent; out of this world. He’s basically asking if his looks are godly

シームーン — sea moon

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @tehyunnie @star-3214 @ning1e @anchoredphoenix @cherry-blossoms-187 @kiiyoooo @chill-guy-but-cooler @iwishtobeacrow @mello-life25 @smellwell @ofclyde @yuzuukix @remdayz @rhetorical-conscience @mooncarvers-world @castocipher @tomoeroi @love-kha1 @secretivemessenger @bensontrechic

[kenyummy]

✰ 07. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 07. a fools own parade.

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

note: im not really sure if it counts as it's a very small passage but tw for a lil bit of an identity/existential crisis??? not very sure haha I mostly just write what comes to mind

also, first father appearance! yay! he finally shows up, and he's as mysterious as ever, hehe. next chapter will be either dink focused or ... someone else... 🤔🤔🤔

prev. ✰ masterlist ✰ next.

You dab at your nose with a tissue, cringing at the sight of crimson still pouring out from it. How hard was that guy's chest, anyway?

A thick bandage is stuck tightly on your nosebridge, taped to your skin and soaked in blood. Changing it every hour was a giant pain, but you'd rather have a bloody bandage than clothes.

Thinking back on it, you almost can't imagine the look in Tim's eyes again. Nothing strange. Nothing too out of the ordinary, but different enough to make the hair on your arms raise.

(You're the greatest anomaly in his life. Isn't it natural a detective wishes to solve such a damning mystery?)

How differently his entire composure grew once he saw you laying there, dirtied hands clutching your face. Was it normal for a guy like him to change his entire stance at such a moment? You'd be inclined to believe he couldn't care less about something like this, from all those diary entries spanning several years.

But seeing that look, when you'd stopped him from coming closer, putting distance between you two, as you thought there'd always been, how could you possibly think that? That look of worry, fingers twitching as he reached out, and expression of pure betrayal when you'd stepped backwards. Away. From him.

Wasn't that how it'd always been? You couldn't stop thinking. Maybe you were wrong? Maybe your spidey sense, for the first time in your life, was wrong?

They say that a fool's time spent thinking is wasted time.

You spent hours sitting at your desk pondering all of this. What it meant. Why your siblings seemed to all give you this strange, sinking feeling in your stomach. Raise goosebumps up your arms.

Soon, these thoughts spiralled back to your home. How you could help Reed. Speed up the process. Not wishing to mess with his delicate work nor rush him, but also getting restless with this family.

This family who's known you for their whole lives, yet seems to similarly know nothing about you. This you, their you, any you. Too little to care, too much to hate. The worst kind of balance that upset the universe and made your stomach twist with bile.

But at this point, you weren't too sure who was who, which was which.

If, tommorow, you'd lost everything and if you were caught in a blazing heat, would it be you who had died? Or somebody else? Would it be you in that coffin, underneath a stone who's name carved into it, did not belong to you?

The concept of being your own person, what did it mean? What could it mean when there were more of you, exactly the same, only shaped by their environment? An endless amount of copies, down to the genetic level, each in different worlds yet unmistakably the same?

When you stare into the mirror, nothing is the same except the red that flows down your knuckles when you slam your fist into it. Nothing remains the same except what you look like inside.

Though—in the end—even that belonged to them, didn't it?

You barely ever see your sister, nor her blonde friend. The ginger haired woman has more pressing matters to attend to than ever seeing you, it seemed—something you'd actually grown to appreciate, seeing how positively suffocating those other "siblings" had started to become.

Dick, who was thankfully off in Blüdhaven around now. Jason, who should be out doing his own thing, but seemed to always spare some time for you... as much as you insisted on him not doing that. Tim, who always stared with a little too much intensity and danger hidden behind a sharp smile.

And Damian—your only blood-related sibling, seeming to take great pride in such a fact as he brings it up far more often than not.

You'd begun to realise a distinct lack of a parental figure in your...—

This. This life.

Not yours. This life absolutely was not yours. Everything is seriously messing with your head. Belonging to another unfortunate soul, who happened to have your name, shared your face and voice, yet was everything you never were. Experienced things you never did, yet as you lived in a freedom they could never dream of.

You pitied them more than anything else. But that didn't mean you could just give everything you've ever known up. Your people, your city, your friends, your freedom. This blood that runs through your veins and makes your heart beat steady—it may belong to them, but you never will.

As it spills, you will be free. Losing that chain that binds you and perhaps you will be allowed to feel that wind hitting your face once more. Allowed to swing, fly, feel air and be everything you were destined to become.

Your suit forms over your body and you leap out of your window, leaving nothing but a gust of wind in your wake.

Because, despite everything, it is still you.

The Spectacular Spidey seems to swing and never sleep—the alliteration in the title of this news article you've read makes your head hurt. Said only as an unfortunate pun referring to how you swing from building to building, and only operate during night hours.

(Yet, still careful on avoiding your dearest family... as difficult as that may be—your senses are seriously saving your skin... wait, now you're using alliteration—)

You don't have anything against working during sunlight. In fact, it would be preferable for you. But escaping from school has now become increasingly more difficult after you'd "opened your heart" to MJ and Harry.

Both were completely convinced you were spiralling down a bad path after how you'd acted with Jason, or concerned for both your homelife and general wellbeing—sometimes you truly did damn yourself for picking such good friends.

Nevertheless, you couldn't possibly be worrying about something like that right now, when there's a much bigger problem right in front of you.

A man dressed in a rag-like coat lay beneath your heel, defeated and hands bound together with your webbing.

You'd originally expected to leave immediately, hoping to catch Reed before he was off looking for whatever new part he needed for his grandest project. But now, you can't even hope to move at this point—swamped by flashing cameras and microphones shoved into your face.

Suddenly, you're so incredibly grateful you wear a mask, because you aren't too excited at the prospect of having such unflattering photos of you taken.

"Spidey! What are you doing in Gotham?"

You stammer, "Uh—well, you know—"

"Spiderguy! What's your thoughts on the articles calling you a knockoff Batman?"

"How am I anything like him?" You gesture to your bright red suit. "Also, it's not Spiderguy—"

"Spidey! Spidey! How do you create that webbing fluid? Is it organic? And is it environmentally sustainable? Who's going to clean it?" The reporters move closer and closer.

You inch backwards, "Uh—well, you know, my webbing dissolves in a couple hours by itself, and of course it's sustainable—"

Before you can finish, a multitude of voices all ring through your ears at once. Piling atop eachother, all at the same time, forming into a mush of different tones and accents, indistinguishable from one another.

You can't even hear anything anymore, not until a voice, loud and clear, cuts through a multitude of others and strikes your ears with ease, "Hey, Spidey! Our viewers have a question for you—how have you gotten past Batman? I'm sure you know he doesn't allow metahumans in Gotham, right?"

You freeze. Shocked, but soon, that shock soon morphs into confusion at what exactly a metahuman is.

"I... uh—" You glance to the side. You know, doing this will spark way too much gossip for your own good. Doing this is practically asking for those headlines that, while technically true, are completely outlandish. You were a reporter yourself (for your alter ego, to be fair—but it still counts).

You know this can't end in any other way than complete disaster.

That's why you reach up, webbing to a building and wave goodbye to those pesky paparazzi, "No comment!" With all the wit a Spider must have, you decide that your flight or fight response instead chose: Web away with a sly remark.

"They should be around here, Batman."

Oracle's voice rings out through the earpiece. Barbara had taken the liberty of helping him in his little crusade after seeing that stunt on live television—that spider-hero running away after hearing that metas weren't allowed in Gotham... though, it provided more questions than answers.

Babs was growing restless. For one: that reaction possibly explained why they were so wary of any member of their family even coming close to them. Always running at the first sight of them, webbing away faster than they could hope to catch up. Escaping Batman and his Robin, Babs couldn't help but wonder about them.

They're good. Smart. They're not some new hero. Clearly whoever's behind that mask has experience.

But this raised far too many questions in it of itself. Why had you only popped up now? Why not years ago —if, judging purely by her own gaze, with the years of experience in crime fighting you must have? Why Gotham?

And perhaps, the most daunting question of them all, "Who exactly are you, Spider?"

Bruce's gruff voice reaches her ears, "What was that?"

Her eyes widen, not realising she'd spoken aloud. Shaking her head, she relents, "No... sorry, it's nothing. Right... according to witness sighting and where they were last spotted, you should be meeting them in the middle right now. Do you have any sightings?"

Bruce shakes his head, jumping over to the top of the next apartment block roof—cowl landing in a swoop behind him. "No. Not yet. See if there's any new sightings."

Bruce Wayne was beginning to grow tiresome of this new hero's antics. Running around through Gotham without a care in the world—all too bright and cheerful as if this was all that mattered. Running around as a meta—unchecked and absolutely dangerous.

Nothing good could come out of this. Not without knowing exactly who you were and what you wanted. He never was a dictator type—never had it in him—but with a crime-riddled city like Gotham, he had little choice.

One small mistake could ruin everything. Collapse all that he's worked so hard to create. A better city, a better future. A regular human—as he is—couldn't possibly ever handle a rouge meta... and in the end, this city may not want him, but he really is the type of hero it needs.

So, that's why, instead of patrolling through his sector—he asks Orphan, Batwoman, and Spoiler to take over for tonight, so he can do some much needed digging into this anomaly.

Tim told him that his webbing sample, one he managed to collect around a month ago, when he'd first come into contact with them, had dissolved within hours. Not enough time to perform any kind of intricate testing, not by a long shot.

Batman has taken the almost passive stance—uncharacteristic of him—but now, he realised with such a slippery Spider, he had to do what he does best, and corner them.

His whitened eyes dart up at the flash of red that flies past him. He snaps his head back and finds the Spider—the one he'd been looking for all this time—swinging from building to building, fast.

But not nearly fast enough. With one false swoop, Bruce is after you, grappling towards you, eyes narrowed and mind absolutely determined.

"Batman? Batman?" Oracle pipes up—he assumes she's been talking for the past couple minutes, but only realised she was speaking into his earpiece now. "Can you hear me? Do you have a visual?"

"I see them. Nearly have them."

The Spider darts their head over their shoulder almost frantically—moves stuttering when they see how close he's gotten toward them.

"Hey! Why are you so obsessed with me, huh?" Thrir voice calls out—unlike anything he'd ever heard. "I mean, okay—yeah, I get it. But if you want a fashion taste like mine, I can make you a suit of your own!"

He clenches his jaw to stop himself from saying anything back.

Their voice grows more framtic at his silence, "H... Hey! You're getting really close, there—let it go! I'm not a villain! I swear!"

More silence, and they seem to let out a loud groan of frustration, seemingly aimed at him.

They stop. Heels landing flat atop a building, and Batman, with his cowl wrapped around him like a cloak, follows on their heel, stalking closer towards them.

You raise your hands in defence, stepping backwards and shaking your masked head, "Waitwaitwait—! Don't get violent with me, I don't want to fight you!"

"Then what do you want?" His voice grows deeper, more gruff and cold. "No metahumans are allowed in Gotham without my permission. There's too much trouble that comes with it. Too many difficulties."

He pauses. "Too much crime. Too many deaths. Unnecessary, preventable ones. Who are you to be an exception?"

"I said wait—!" You shriek as he practically stalks into your personal space bubble. "I'm not a metahuman!"

He stops in his tracks. "... What?"

You let out a heavy sigh, now that he's stopped. Batman taps on his earpiece, "Oracle, can you hear this?"

"Reading, Batman."

You look around, to see nobody. "Oracle? Who's Oracle?" You never read anything about an Oracle.

"None of your business. Now speak. If you aren't a metahuman, what are you?" His whitened eyes narrow, and suddenly those pointy ears aren't so silly looking anymore.

You blink. Once, then twice. "Would you believe me if I said I was from an alien planet full of spider-people?"

Despite the reprocessing telling him your backstory would have on you being near non-existent—you still aren't too fond of the idea of the Batman, your father, knowing your secret backstory.

Besides, Oscorp really does exist in this universe, too—Norman is actually pretty nice. You don't want any unwarranted blame falling on him.

"Not a chance." He folds his arms over his bat-symboled chest and you falter with a sigh.

Worth a shot.

"Fine." Not to say he was the reason you finally relented—but his stare was pretty unnerving. "I was bit by genetically modified spider on a school field trip. It altered my DNA so I became stronger, faster, could stick to walls and became three times more flexible than the average person."

You finish with a winded breath, eyes scanning his expression for any hint of an emotion. You found none.

"Why should I believe you?"

Pausing, you glance away. Crouching down on that rooftop, on the ledge, staring down at the city below. Dimly lit roads and the people littering it. So much like your home, yet so different.

You could see why Batman was this city's protector. You could see why he was so careful about this world, and you almost respected him for it. At the same time, though, you couldn't help but think to all those chicken-scratched diaries.

By a helpless child, unable to depend on anybody but him in this world, and he had still failed. For that, you couldn't face him. Not now, not ever.

"You don't have to believe my story." You finally manage to unlodge the words from your throat. "I'm just saying that whatever your rules are—my existence doesn't defy them. You have no reason to keep chasing me down."

His sharp, whitened eyes narrow. It's the only thing visible in such deep darkness where he lingers.

"Actually..." Oracle's voice rings out through Batman's ears. "Their story... might have some truth to it. Check this out—Oscorp's been working on developing a, quote, super-powered spider. Says spider venom is the cure for disease and pandemics. They've been developing in this field for a while."

A super-powered spider sounds absolutely ridiculous, he thinks. But nothing he hadn't seen before. In a world full of aliens, heroes, personification of life, death, and everything in-between—he shouldn't be surprised at the prospect of gaining superpowers from spider venom.

Looking down at you now—slouched, facing away from him, and almost seeming restless... "Oscorp."

You look back at him, confused. "Huh?"

"Did that spider come from Oscorp?"

... You bite down on the inside of your cheek, hard. Looking back away before you could stop yourself. "No. I'm not from around here. I live far. Far away."

"What do you mean by far away? Why are you in Gotham, then?" He steps closer, to the point he's standing over you with all that intimidating bat-aura that makes the criminals of Gotham run for the hills. Still, you can't bear to see him. Because if you do, you know you'll spill everything you've been holding in like a waterfall.

"I don't know," you admit, honestly. "I don't know why I'm here. I want to go home, but I don't know where that is anymore. All I know is that, while I'm here, I might as well help people. Because... that's what I do."

For a moment, there's no sound other than the honking of cars on a busy road. He's quiet, as silent as he always is. Always was. For a moment, you think you almost see him as that father from so long ago.

But only for a moment.

"... How old are you?"

To your surprise, he doesn't immediately go to accusing you of lying again, or keep his standoffish persona any longer—only asking you this simple, yet strangely personal, question.

In simple words, you're really confused. "What? Why does that matter?"

"You sound young. Too young. And from the way I've seen you fight, you're experienced in fighting high, street-level crime. If I had to guess, I'd say you've been doing this for at least three years. Maybe more."

Sweat beads at the back of your neck, and suddenly everything starts caving in, crumbling like failed architecture. How did he know? How could he have possibly—

Batman continues, "The way you talk, and the way you behave in the public eye, you can't be an adult. I'm assuming you're a child. Meaning you've been fighting crime since you've been in your early teens, right?"

"What are you talking about?" You stand up at your full height, staring up at him. Glaring, as well as you can manage from underneath those refractive lenses. He doesn't back down. "I'm not—"

"You're a child," He repeats. "Don't carry this weight. You don't have to carry the weight of—" Gesturing towards the ground below, he stares down at you, strangely sadly, "All this. Especially not all by yourself. Not as a child."

The only word you want to spit out at him is hypocrite.

"Don't act all high and mighty. That Robin you have looks 12. You're saying a 12 year old is capable of fighting crime but I shouldn't? I'm nearly an adult, for god's sake! I'm—"

You slap your hands over your masked mouth, but still continue. "Don't treat me like I don't know better. You don't know me. You have no idea what has happened in my life."

"I only take Robin under my wing because he needs it. So I can watch over him."

You glare, "So what? So he can turn out like you?"

"So that he doesn't."

And to this, your lips feel sealed shut. You want to say something, but you can't. What could you possibly reply to this?

Even Oracle is silent. Not a word, not a peep. Nothing. The honking of cars has ceased, and it's like the world itself had just gone quiet for that one, stunning moment.

"You're not from here, so I don't know you," Finally, he speaks, and it's like the silence has been shattered like glass. "You're right. But... you're a child. You aren't obligated to this. This isn't your responsibility—to make this world better. If you can live normally, you should."

Isn't such normalcy why you ended up like this in the first place? All those entries, wishing to be like the rest of them—and here your father is now, telling you to be yourself.

If only they had heard this, you think, bitterly. Then, you'd know you were right. That he would only ever see you if you had become one of them.

The thought makes your stomach churn. How pretentious could this man—this devil—possibly be?

"You're wrong. To live normally like this, when I was given the strength to be better, to do things to be a better me... that's just wrong." You clench your fists, hard. "I already made that mistake before. It doesn't matter whether I'm 18 or 80. All that matters is that I'm doing what I know is right."

You pause, allowing the words to sink in. "But to discard the normally in your life is a waste. That's why I live the way I do. To protect the normalcy around me, the ones who can't protect themselves. With great power comes great responsibility... my responsibility is to be the best Spidey I can be."

...

You angle your wrist up and don't bother to look back at him when you walk away, "You and your birds can come after me all you want, but I won't stop doing what I think is right. 'Cause I'm a hero."

When you thwip away, you aren't so sure how you'd forgotten that. How a hero protects the ones they love above all else.

Your family aren't heroes. Perhaps, to the public, and even the whole world—but not to you. They'd failed to protect that child, a miserable, small child, left in that massive world.

To make it so they felt they had to save people, to take that responsibility of power to matter—that was their greatest failure.

"... Batman?" Barbara's voice is a dramatic shift from the silence that started to consume him. "Batman,are you okay? Batman? ... Bruce? Are you..."

He takes a moment to regain his composure, world still spinning as he speaks, "I'm fine. They're... they're okay." Saying the world's like they're hard to spit out, or like he's unsure himself. "I'm coming home."

Barbara wants to say something. About that spider. About what they said to him. Power, responsibility, protection, normalcy, love. But she doesn't. By the sound of his voice, he seems just as frazzled as she is. A conflicted Batman means no good for anybody, including her.

So, she will let him think. Oracle can take a back-seat for now. So can Batman. For now, she's just Barbara Gordon. And he's just Uncle Bruce.

Holding her tongue, "Cass and Steph aren't back yet. Kate left a while ago... said there was something she needed to do. ... Everyone else should be at home, I think..."

"Okay." He murmurs, quieter.

Barbara shuts her mouth and leans back in her chair. There's nothing else for her to say, so once more, there is silence.

...

When Bruce returns back to the Manor, he finds himself pushing past everything and everyone, including Alfred, and rushing up the stairs. Not even bothering to take off his suit fully—tossing his helmet behind him and walking away.

Down a hall to the left, then up right, then left again. Stopping once he, finally, stands in front of a door. Blank. Colourless, dull. Like the rest of the manor, blending in away from those extravagant suits and too-bulky armours.

After a brief moment of confliction, he brings his fist up, and knocks. Standing there, almost the size of the doorway, waiting for any kind of reply.

"Hello? What—"

You freeze at the sight of your father staring down at you—this time, his eyes were as blue as ever and his face was less grim. This time, you could see the greying of his dark hair and the crease of his brows.

This time, there was no escape.

"[name]." He says your name as if it's foreign, unfamiliar. Testing it out like a new spice or seasoning, then seeming to come to the conclusion that he likes it. "It's been a while."

You're frozen in place, mouth open yet unable to speak. What could you possibly do now? Run? Swing? Duck past—

A hand places itself on your shoulder and every siren in your body blasts itself tenfold. Blaring like the most buzzing and painful alarms—so awful that you have to grab the side of the doorframe to stop yourself from falling over.

Panic gnaws at every side of you, chest rising and falling erratically when your headache grows.

What is this? This is so much worse than when I'm with Jason—

His face morphs and blurs as does his words, yet you manage to catch the few, "I think we should spend more time together. Become closer, like how it was before. You are my child after all. The only one who doesn't have patrol or scoutings with me. That calls for more regular ways of bonding, right? That's my responsibility... as your father."

He's smiling. Hardly so, but you're about to collapse. A deafening buzz in your skull, you spit out any agreements you can manage through squeezed eyes, waiting for him to go, to leave, so for a moment, you can finally breathe.

"I'm glad you agree," he says, moving back. Clearing his throat, he looks down at you, recovering as he gives you space. "Next week, then?"

You clutch your head, jaw taut and stance tense. It's a wonder how he hadn't noticed your absolute discomfort, but you digress—just wanting him to go. "Sure."

"Good, then—" Before he can finish, your door slams shut in his face and once again, that barrier has returned. Bruce pauses, staring at that slab of wood keeping you from his line of sight.

Bruce lingers for a few moments longer, fingers hovering the handle, before retracting back and swallowing thick.

Batman walks away, but glances twice over his shoulder, cowl falling behind him.

You slump down your door with a heaving sigh, feeling your head start to clear and breathing stabilise.

That feeling of fear, of utter terror—it was the feeling you'd get with Jason and Tim, but tripled. It was torture. Absolutely awful. Unbearable. You'd not relt anything while you were Spidey on that rooftop, but seeing him here now send your senses spiralling into a whirlwind of chaos.

You grab your head and it falls onto your knees, pulled up to your chest.

Your eyes fall bleak and everything blurry again. Are you going to cry, like a child? To prove him right again, that you're afraid of this? Of him?

Maybe you were more similar to his version of you than you were lead to believe. Maybe—

Still, though, your phone buzzes.

A strange sounding noise compared to the cheap, hand-me-down one you had in your other room. Probably spammed with stupid videos from MJ, and worried texts from Harry. Maybe even the odd "how are you?" from Matt, or something.

(You still don't know how he texts, but that's beyond you).

You pick up your phone, despite the lingering thought it could just be from one of your family members. Siblings, or father.

... You were half right.

From a contact customised to say, the #coolest auntie, there's a text.

Hey, kid. Let's go out. It's been way too long.

You stare down at the bright phone screen for a few seconds longer than you should've. Surprised, sure, but just as confused. Swallowing and considering your options for a second.

You haphazardly let your fingers fly over the keyboard. If your contact name for her was this comfortable, she must be a good person, right? Maybe she could provide an outside perspective on everything. Your family, their hero-lives, even you.

You press your lips tightly together narrowing your eyes down at her contact profile picture. Short, red hair and a smug smile. Pale skin, and the features reminiscent of your father.

Sure. Where?

When you watch the text bubbles pop up on the screen, you can't help but wonder what exactly you're going to do next.

taglist: @hello-bina @cosmosluckycharms @1abi @yhin-gg @insideoutjulie @bluepanda08 @omnivirgo @vanessa-boo @dind1n @welpthisisboring @lunaetiicsaystuff @marsmabe @atanukileaf @findingjaxx @4mrplumi @bunniotomia @lostsomewhereinthegarden @bat1212 @gaychaosgremlin @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @randomlyappearingartist @cxcilla @spidermanluvr444 @cruzerforce4256 @mybones537 @xjesterxjacksx @nirvanaxx1942 @djpuppy-kittens @br33zy-blizzardz @moon0goddess @0sunnyside01 @mei-simp @redsakura101 @the-dumber-scaramouche @wizzerreblogs @lovemiss-vale @deathbynarcisstick @allycat4458 @wonmyheart @luckyangelballoon @one-piecelover @hartwyrm @horror-lover-69 @maria-trisha @4rachn3 @galaxypurplerose @duskeras @coffeeaddictxd @lithiumval @kaz-playz

taglist is open!

[yoinkschief]

Yeahh there is definitely more that should've been said about Gene's past actions that just don't get acknowledged, but sexual harassment in the series has unfortunately never really been taken seriously (see Zane + Ghost/Emmalyn and Laurance/Aaron + Michi, which gets played up for jokes a ton cause haha ! silly ! women can't be sexual harassers ! (/sarc)

So it is very sad and damaging to see this kind of content being produced to kids, and I don't think Jess had any ill intent with it but it definitely felt like an oversight of the "state of the internet at the time it was being uploaded" with that kind of ""humor"" being normalized and no one really seriously critiquing the tropes of anime at the time as being into anime was only just beginning to be "cool", it was still in the throes of being a weird kid thing from school so no one had any serious discussion about it yet because it wasn't in mainstream (at least for America)

I totally get what you mean tho - I too had grown to actually kinda appreciate the ship between Aph and Aaron, for MyStreet anyway, I mean their relationship in Diaries was cute too I was just frustrated that most of it was off screen and we only saw bits and pieces of them growing closer and it was mostly framed as like "we're just co-parenting so we should get to know each other better" which is cute n all but again happened mostly off screen

When it comes to the characters having like nothing or a lot of story it's kinda frustrating, yeah, especially because a lot of the story elements they did have when they were apart of their MCD counterpart was like completely ignored, which I mean like I get it this is a completely different story that wasn't supposed to technically be a story, it was just a silly spin off series of MCD that got more popular than it did, and so they started adding story elements to it

But because it was originally just a spinoff there's a lot of retconning that has to happen of like original iterations, rewrites and work arounds that get annoying really quick, and I really really hope they can expand upon the characters in Season 7 in some way, I think it would be fun and cute to bring back Jess's original intention with the series as a simple slice of life series but give it like plot

I mean it would make sense to do that in my head where like, if I'm reading the trailer correctly, it'll be a thing of returning Aaron's memories to him, so a nice way to do that is to make it a slice of life series once again with wacky hijinks and silly things, especially since the last season was so devastatingly traumatizing for pretty much everyone involved

Me personally I think it would be fun to play around with ideas with the different characters finding their support groups in different ways, like the different ways they work through everything that happened to them, maybe some will go to an actual anonymous support group, some will go to therapy and counselling, others confide in their significant other/close friends, so on

but that's just me LOL I like small world building bits like that, I'd like for everyone to get their character plot lines tied up nicely with a pretty bow, everyone goes through the healing process of trauma in their own ways, just because it'd be a nice way to end the series. Aphmau and Aaron get back together and whatnot and everyone is happy and it leaves the ending satisfying and yet open enough for people to still have fun writing silly one-shots/continuations/spin-offs,,, not sure if that'll be what it actually is tho seeing as we've gotten no trailers/teasers for the actual animated series, only small things to essentially tide the fans over while we wait LOL

I like Mystreet as much as the next person, I was a MCD person, and I'll always be a MCD person...with that being said, from time to time, I think about the comparisons for characters between the two properties...you know the usual, like the Mystreet Laurance and MCD Laurance, or sometimes Garroth, or even Katelyn...this rambling session isn't about them though, it's about Dante.

By far, Dante is one of my favorites in MCD. At first glance, he can be forgettable. He's not apart of the Aphmau love triangle, nor is he apart every adventure in season 2, but when you get the whole picture of MCD, he's character is amazing.

I mean, there's so much to him. His personality, his morals, his history...his family. Dante is a character that is easily expandable.

By far, one of the most important things about Dante, is his loyalty. This man, stayed 15 years in the same place because his Lord told him to, no matter how many offers for him to leave came up, he didn't, and that is extremely compelling.

With that said, it's time for Mystreet Dante...anyways! Dante in Mystreet (+ Phoenix Drop High) is quite different. First off, Dante in Mystreet is extremely flirty, to the point he's creepy and disrespectful. In Phoenix Drop High(mostly effecting Mystreet later on), Dante taught Travis creepy behaviors, such as touching others without their permission. Of course, this is all played for humor, Dante in Mystreet is all played for humor...even when his behaviors are far from it.

To add to this behavior, it's very obvious from the first episode of Mystreet, that Dante is supposed to be seen in a more love interest route, a route that Mystreet Aphmau realistically, doesn't chose. I find this odd, comparably, in MCD, Dante views Aphmau as a sister, and I'd like to believe Aphmau views Dante as brother, or at least as someone who is family...this really makes me wonder, why did Jessica, in Season 1 of Mystreet, put Dante in a love interest light? When she makes it very clear In MCD, that Dante doesn't view Aphmau in that way.

Another thing about Dante, that reloves around love, is his relationships, romantic relationships that is. In season 1 of Phoenix Drop, Dante not only dates Kawaii~Chan, but Nicole(An obvious reference to MCD). In MCD, The Kawaii~Chan and Nicole situation is taken as a situation that is sad and complicated. I'm not exactly sure on times, but Dante does Date Nicole for awhile, before she must go back to Scaleswind, and if I remember correctly, Nicole does ask Dante to go with her, but he refuses, because of his commitment to Phoenix Drop. After Nicole gets to Scaleswind, she finds she is with child, but then there's Kawaii~Chan. During the 15 year time skip, Kawaii~Chan travels a bit before settling back in Phoenix Drop. Dante and Kawaii~Chan only date after Dante and Nicole breakup...but eventually, Nicole comes for a visit. When Nicole visits, Kawaii~Chan is three months pregnant, while Nicole is also obviously pregnant. There is a very important thing to this situation, Dante doesn't know he is the father of Nicole's child. So for years after, Dante, lives unaware, until the child (Or Dimitri) sneaks away from Nicole, but after that gets sorted out, Dante steps up, he takes responsibility for Dimitri.

Now, none of that happens in Phoenix Drop High. It's just Dante dating Nicole and Kawaii~Chan at the same time. Of course, Dante deals with consequences of being a jerk to these two girls, because if I remember correctly, they dump him. I just can't help but think about it, since the two situations are very different in the priorities, one, doesn't make anyone a villain, it was a situation of major miscommunication, and as soon as every communicated, the situation turned into taking care of everyone and becoming a family. While in Phoenix Drop High, the situation is there to paint Dante as a major jerk, rightfully so, because he shouldn't be dating two people at the same time, but I just can't help but notice the two situations...and how they paint everyone in it.

There is only a few redeeming qualities of Mystreet Dante. He is funny sometimes, like in Dante and Travis the show. The changes between MCD Dante and Mystreet Dante, just makes me think about why...why did they change him so drastically? Was it just fit a trope, was it something deeper, or was it nothing at all, and I'm just thinking too deep?

(If I get any facts about MCD Dante wrong, please tell me, I haven't watched MCD in awhile)

[slettlune]

a friend of mine very graciously gifted me their ticket to a concert by the oslo philharmonic orchestra tonight because they were unable to go. i used to go to philharmonic concerts way back when i was at uni (because i got student discounts) and while it's not something i've sought out after that, tonight was still so magical i can't help but note down some key impressions just for the hell of it

the theme of the evening was pieces inspired by the sea, so the represented composers were nikolai myaskovsky, benjamin britten, and claude debussy

the conductor vasily petrenko has genuinely the most graceful hands i've ever seen. i fully believe there are actual ballet dancers training their entire lives who still can't move their hands like that. it was mesmerizing

i also went to the... concert preshow...? in the bar, where petrenko talked about the evening's pieces. he's a really charismatic guy!

the audience DO NOT clap between movements, which i get, but sometimes there were pretty long breaks between movements (the conductor put down his baton and everything)? i was like. i'm SO glad someone in this audience are so exceedingly familiar with this music they know when each composition is actually over. i did NOT dare to be the first to clap at any point

the concert peaked early for me with myaskovsky's sinfionetta op. 68. i've never heard it before but i got genuine chills from it, like i was tearing up listening to it (especially the second movement) it was just so beautiful and almost overwhelming

i got a little lost through britten's four sea interludes because there weren't any pauses between the movements like the others. at least i knew when we'd reached the STORM movement. i liked the storm part

debussy's la mer was way more of patience test, and i admit i spent part of it just practicing my intellectual listening face. the program tells me it's one of debussy's later "impressionistic" and "challenging" pieces, and also that "it was poorly received at its pre-premiere in paris". hm.

actually the most memorable part of la mer was that when its final crescendo concluded, there was a noticeable plume of smoke rising from one of the violins. i'm assuming the vibration/friction happened to release a puff of resin or powder or something used to treat the strings (and that nothing was actually close to catching fire) but it definitely made an impression on several audience members.

[aquaslove]

…

[glowettee]

✧ if it doesn't align with the dream life, it's a distraction ✧

hey lovelies!! 🦢

omg, so, i was literally journaling last night & this phrase just hit me like… so hard. "if it doesn't align with the dream life, it's a distraction." i had to stop writing and just sit with that for a min.

because honestly? i've been feeling so scattered lately. like my energy is going in a million directions but none of them are taking me where i actually want to go. and i realized that's exactly what happens when we don't have clarity on our it-girl blueprint.

so what even is an it-girl blueprint? it's not just aesthetic or vibes (tho those matter too!!) but it's this deep knowing of who you're meant to become. it's that version of you who wakes up excited, who feels aligned, who's living in her dream apartment with her dream career and her dream people. she exists!! she's waiting for you to become her!!

this post is a bit different from my most recents, i wanted to take a little tinyyy break from my pop culture series', like the pll x glowettee and vampire diaries x glowettee series' and just focus more on self-improvement again. i also wanted to take a break from the overwhelming aesthetics i've been using in my posts, and justtttt write~~ (no small text, no crazy colors, just my thoughts) and i realized that distractions have been very prominent in my life lately... so i wanted to address it in this post, and some possible solutions <3

✧ what's actually distracting you? ✧

okay so grab your journal rn and let's get super real about what's pulling you away from your dream life, feel free to use these prompts:

that situationship that makes you feel anxious every time they text (you know the one)

the hours of scrolling that leave you feeling empty inside

saying yes to plans when your body is literally begging you to rest

the "friend" who always has drama and makes everything about them

that project you started because you thought you "should" but you actually hate

staying in that job/class/situation because you're scared to disappoint someone

comparing your chapter 1 to someone else's chapter 20 (guilty!!)

i've been doing this work myself and it's kinda scary how many things i was pouring energy into that weren't actually taking me anywhere i wanted to go??

✧ getting clear on your actual dream life ✧

before we can align with our dream life, we need to know what it actually looks like! not what instagram or your mom or society thinks it should look like, but what YOU want.

some journal prompts that helped me:

when do i feel most like myself?

what activities make me lose track of time?

who makes me feel seen, safe, and supported?

what would my perfect morning routine look like if i had zero obligations?

what kind of spaces make me feel calm and inspired?

what would i do with my time if money wasn't an issue?

what parts of my current life would i keep even if i could change everything?

i did this exercise last weekend and realized that so many things i was chasing weren't even in my dream life blueprint?? like i was stressing about getting into this super competitive program but when i really thought about it, it wasn't even aligned with what i actually want. wild.

✧ how to actually make decisions that align ✧

okay, so here's my little framework for making choices that actually build your dream life:

the body check: before saying yes to anything, check in with your body. does it feel expansive and light, or contracted and heavy? your body literally knows before your brain does!!

the future self question: what would the version of you who's already living your dream life do? she knows!! trust her!!

the energy audit: does this person/activity/commitment give you energy or drain it? only say yes to energy-givers (this one changed my life omg)

the alignment test: ask yourself "does this move me closer to or further from my dream life?" be brutally honest!!

the joy metric: if it doesn't bring you joy or lead to joy, why are you doing it?? (unless it's like… taxes or something lol)

✧ how to let go of the distractions ✧

this is the hardest part tbh. because we get attached to things even when they're not serving us! here's what's helping me:

remember that saying no to something is saying yes to your dream life

start with the easiest distractions first (for me it was unfollowing accounts that made me feel bad)

create little rituals around letting go (i write things down and then burn the paper)

remind yourself that outgrowing things is part of becoming

be gentle with yourself when you slip back into old patterns (we all do it!!)

i had to let go of a friendship a few months that was taking so much energy, and it was really hard but also?? i suddenly had all this space to focus on things that actually matter to me.

✧ your dream life alignment practice ✧

here's a little daily practice i've been doing:

morning: set an intention to notice what aligns and what distracts

throughout the day: when making choices, ask "dream life or distraction?"

evening: celebrate the aligned choices you made + gently note the distractions

it's not being perfect!! it's becoming more conscious of our choices. because every tiny decision is either building your dream life or… not.

i've been doing this for about three weeks now and i already feel so much clearer and more focused. like i'm finally moving in one direction instead of being pulled in a million different ones.

remember: you deserve your dream life. and it starts with choosing it, over and over, in all the tiny moments.

question from mindy:

what's one distraction you're ready to let go of? and one aligned action you're ready to take? (feel free to send me a message in my inbox, or just reblog answering this question.)

xoxo, mindy 🤍

[kayewrite]

Want so Bad

genre:; fluff and (..) word count: 3.9K

Minho x reader! Minho x fem. reader!!

wherein: Minho is everything you never wanted in life. But he wants you….so bad.

(an: this is my favorite and i had fun writing while listening to Minho and Jisung's "Want so Bad" again and again and again. so i hope you enjoy reading it!! a comment, like, and reblog is very much appreciated)

"Why are you here?"

You roll your eyes, barely glancing up at the person standing in front of you, your voice dripping with boredom.

"I'm here because I miss you," he replies, winking at you in that infuriating way that always makes you cringe.

You’re in your living room, buried in your textbooks, when this boy suddenly appears in front of you, as if someone summoned him from nowhere.

Minho.

He’s your brother Jisung’s best friend in the entire world—or so they claim. There’s a three-year gap between you and them. They’re in their final year of college, while you’re just a freshman.

You would give him a proper introduction, but the truth is, you can't stand him. You’ve hated him ever since you were 15. He and Jisung have always loved teasing you, making your life miserable whenever they could.

"Jisung! Your favorite family member is here!" you shout, unable to handle Minho’s relentless teasing any longer. Sure, you’re in college now and supposed to be more mature (or so you tell yourself), but after years of dealing with them, you’ve become accustomed to hating their antics.

"I wasn’t even part of the family… but I guess I will be after I marry one of the family members," Minho smirks, his voice dripping with mischief.

"Then go marry my brother," you retort, your expression as nonchalant as ever.

He laughs and casually snatches the book you were studying. You’re so used to his flirty teasing by now that it barely fazes you.

It all started back in high school when Jisung teased you relentlessly, convinced you had a crush on Minho. He found it on your pink diary and read it out loud, complete with the cheesy music that played whenever you opened it. (Well, you did have a crush on Minho back then, but it faded over time.)

Jisung teased you so much that you cried your eyes out, and then he told Minho all about it, sparking years of torment.

"Oh no, my sister might actually ace her exams now that she’s seen her only inspiration," Jisung chimes in as he walks down the stairs, pulling on a t-shirt. You roll your eyes at him too.

"I think I should come over more often. I might just make your sister the top student," Minho adds with a grin.

There goes your peaceful day.

But thankfully, they don’t bother you too much, as they soon move to the kitchen to eat. You try to refocus on your studies, but chemistry is giving you a hard time, so you pop in your earbuds and pull up a tutorial on YouTube. Just as you’re getting into it, a glass of orange juice and a muffin appear on your table (or rather, on top of your notebook).

"Eat, little devil. Food helps you focus more," Jisung says, placing the snacks down.

You mumble a quick thanks, thinking he’ll leave, but instead, he plops down on the couch behind you. You’re sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch, your books and notes spread out on the coffee table in front of you. Then, without a care in the world, Jisung props his legs up on the table, acting as if your things are invisible.

You were almost touched by your brother’s gesture… but never mind.

"Yah!" You glare at him, but he just shrugs and turns on the TV, putting on a movie. A minute later, Minho joins him.

"What are you studying, kid?" Minho asks, even though he’s already glanced at your book.

"None of your business."

"Oh, is that a new subject? I’ve never heard of it before."

Argh.

"You should help her, Minho. I heard from her professor that she scored low on a quiz," Jisung says, his tone annoyingly casual.

How does he know that?

"Really?" Minho leans forward, peering at what you’re writing. "Well, chemistry is indeed tough."

"Help her out. You always got high scores in that subject back in the day."

You’re listening to them while half-heartedly writing, your earbuds now turned down low. You’re trying to pretend they’re just ghosts, but hearing them talk about your struggles in chemistry makes you want to join the conversation.

"Sure, if you give me that game console," Minho quips.

"On second thought, I think my sister will manage just fine."

Arghhh.

You can’t take it anymore. You gather up your things, smack your brother’s leg, and stomp upstairs.

Later, you’re back in your study area, trying to focus again when there’s a knock on your door. It can only be one of them since the three of you are the only ones at home. Your parents are working, even on a Sunday.

"What?!" you yell, your irritation clear.

You’re about to open the door when it swings open on its own, revealing Minho.

"You shouldn’t talk like that to your tutor," he says, flicking your forehead.

"Ow!"

Tutor? Jisung must’ve given him the console.

You don’t bother complaining because, aside from being tired… well, yeah, you’re just too tired.

"You should listen well, okay? If you don’t, we won’t get married," Minho teases, treating you like a child as always. You hate it, but you’re too drained to argue.

"Okay." You roll your eyes for the ninth time and settle in to listen as he starts to explain.

The tutorial is full of bickering and Minho’s relentless teasing, but unexpectedly, you finally understand the material. Your questions are answered, and for the first time in a while, you feel a bit of relief.

"Thank you," you say as you bid him goodbye.

"Goodbye. Let me know when you get home. And say hi to your baby cats for me," your brother says, waving Minho off.

"How did your chemistry exam go?"

You’re happy with your results and you share them with Minho.

"I got an almost perfect score!"

"Really?" He messes up your hair. "Then you should thank me. You owe me."

"I’ll get Jisung’s console for you," you joke

Minho is at your house again. He says they have a group study session, but Jisung isn’t home yet. You both settled into the living room, the hum of the TV in the background as Minho lounged on the couch, his legs stretched out comfortably. You took a seat on the floor, leaning against the couch, your study materials spread out on the coffee table.

“So, what else do you need help with, little genius?” Minho teased, nudging your shoulder with his foot.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I don’t need your help again, Mr. Top Student. I can manage just fine on my own.”

Minho chuckled, the sound light and teasing. “Sure, you can. But remember, you owe me for that almost perfect score. I think I might start charging for my tutoring services.”

“Don’t push your luck,” you shot back, a smile tugging at your lips.

Minho leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at you, his expression softening slightly. “You know, you’re pretty impressive. Balancing all this studying and still managing to have a sense of humor.”

You felt a small flutter in your stomach at his words, a sensation that caught you off guard. You quickly masked it with a smirk. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Minho.”

He grinned, leaning back against the couch. “Who says I’m flattering you? I’m just stating facts.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but the words got caught in your throat when you met his gaze. There was something different in his eyes, something that made your heart skip a beat. The usual playful glint was still there, but beneath it was a warmth that made you feel… special.

You quickly looked away, focusing on the notes in front of you, trying to shake off the unexpected feeling. “Anyway, where’s this group of yours? I thought you were supposed to be studying.”

Minho shrugged, casually twirling a pen between his fingers. “They’re running late. I guess they’re not as eager to study as I am.”

“Right, because you’re so eager,” you muttered, the sarcasm clear in your voice.

He chuckled again, the sound warm and familiar. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to hang out with you. You’re much more fun than Jisung.”

Your heart fluttered again, and you bit your lip, trying to keep your cool. “You’re just saying that because I actually study, unlike my brother.”

“True,” he agreed, his tone light. “But also because you’re interesting. I never know what you’re going to say next.”

You were about to respond when you heard the front door open and Jisung’s voice echo through the house. “I’m back! Did I miss anything?”

You quickly straightened up, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment that your brother had arrived. Minho, however, just smiled, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes as he leaned over and whispered in your ear, “We’ll continue this later.”

Your breath hitched at the closeness, and for a moment, you couldn’t think of a single thing to say. As Minho pulled back with a wink, you felt the butterflies in your stomach take flight.

Jisung entered the living room, oblivious to the tension that had suddenly filled the air. “Hey, what are you two up to?”

“Just studying,” Minho replied casually, as if nothing had happened, though the smirk on his face told a different story.

You nodded, trying to compose yourself. “Yeah, just studying.”

But as you glanced at Minho, who was now chatting with your brother like everything was normal, you couldn’t help but wonder if things between you had just shifted in a way you hadn’t expected. And as much as you tried to deny it, you couldn’t ignore the fact that, for the first time, Minho’s teasing had made your heart race in a way you couldn’t quite understand.

You were walking through the university courtyard, your thoughts scattered as you mentally planned your study schedule for the rest of the day. It had been a busy week, and you were looking forward to some peace and quiet when you suddenly spotted Minho across the way. He was chatting animatedly with a girl, her laughter ringing out as he carried a stack of books for her.

You instinctively slowed your pace, your eyes lingering on them for a moment longer than you intended. The girl was pretty, with a bright smile and an easygoing vibe that made her seem instantly likable. She playfully nudged Minho with her shoulder, and he grinned back at her, that familiar teasing spark in his eyes.

For a second, you considered changing your route, avoiding the interaction altogether. But then you stopped yourself. Why would you do that? It’s not like it mattered. It wasn’t like you cared who Minho was talking to, or how close they seemed. Right?

So you took a deep breath and kept walking, your expression carefully neutral as you approached them. As you got closer, Minho caught sight of you, and his grin widened.

“Well, well, well, look who it is,” he called out, his voice full of mock surprise. “You just couldn’t resist, could you? Saw my handsome face and had to come over.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Oh please, I just happened to be walking by. Don’t flatter yourself.”

The girl next to him laughed at your banter, and you noticed the way she lightly slapped his arm, a gesture that spoke of familiarity. It was clear they were close. Your eyes flickered to her, and you couldn’t help but feel a tiny pang of something—what was it? Jealousy? Annoyance? Whatever it was, you quickly pushed it down.

Minho noticed your glance and, as if reading your mind, raised an eyebrow. “Ah, sorry. Where are my manners? This is Seoyun, a friend from my class. Seoyun, this is my little genius here,” he added with a teasing smirk.

You gave her a polite nod, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped at the word “friend.” “Nice to meet you, Seoyun.”

“Nice to meet you too!” she replied cheerfully. “Minho’s told me a lot about you. He says you’re quite the brainiac.”

You shot Minho a look, and he just grinned, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Yeah, well, someone’s got to keep him in line,” you said, your tone light but with a hint of sarcasm.

Seoyun laughed again, and you couldn’t help but notice how comfortable they seemed together. It was… unsettling in a way you couldn’t quite pinpoint. But you weren’t about to dwell on it.

“Well, I’ve got to get going,” you said, glancing at your watch. “Places to be, things to study.”

“Always so busy,” Minho said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “But you know, all work and no play…”

“…keeps you out of trouble,” you finished for him with a smirk. “But don’t worry about me. I’ll manage.”

Seoyun smiled at you again, giving a little wave. “It was nice meeting you. Hopefully, we’ll see each other around.”

“Yeah, maybe,” you replied, waving back before turning to continue on your way.

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder, just once, to see Minho and Seoyun laughing together as they continued their conversation. You tried to ignore the uneasy feeling that settled in your chest, brushing it off as nothing.

‘She must be his girlfriend,’ you thought to yourself, trying to sound nonchalant even in your own mind. And then you shrugged, forcing yourself to focus on your day ahead. ‘Why would I care?’

But even as you walked away, you couldn’t quite shake the image of them together, the way they seemed to fit so naturally. And for the first time, Minho’s teasing didn’t just annoy you—it made you feel something deeper, something you weren’t ready to face just yet.

“Hey.”

You looked up at the voice calling your name. It was Jeongin, your classmate.

“We got paired for the presentation,” he reminded you. Oh! You remembered now, probably too occupied with other subjects to focus on this. “If you don’t mind, can we start after class? That way we’ll finish early and can focus on other things.”

“Sure,” you agreed, appreciating his practical suggestion.

“Great. We should head to a coffee shop after this.”

After class, you walked together, discussing the presentation details. Jeongin had some good ideas, and you found yourself easily slipping into a productive conversation. The atmosphere between you two was relaxed, and soon you arrived at the coffee shop.

“What do you want?” Jeongin asked as you both approached the counter.

“Latte, please,” you replied, smiling. “Thanks.”

As Jeongin went to order, you scanned the room, your eyes landing on a familiar figure. Minho. He was with a group of friends, casually chatting. When he looked up, his gaze met yours. He smirked at you, and you were about to wave, but then he broke the eye contact and turned his attention back to the person next to him. You scanned the group quickly, noticing your brother wasn’t there.

You tried to focus on your work, but you kept catching Minho glancing at you from the corner of your eye. For the first time, you wondered what he thought of seeing you with another guy. The idea made you smirk a little, enjoying the small twist of the situation. Minho, always so sure of himself, might just be a little thrown off by this.

Jeongin returned with your latte and his own drink, setting them down on the table.

“Ready to get started?” he asked, pulling out his notes.

“Yeah, let’s do this,” you replied, pushing the thoughts of Minho to the back of your mind—for now, at least.

You were studying in the living room, the soft murmur of a video tutorial explaining organic chemistry filling the space. You were too focused to notice Minho entering your house until his voice broke through your concentration.

“Hey, my favorite person,” he greeted with a playful smile.

You glanced around, looking behind you and to the sides. “My brother’s not here,” you stated, raising an eyebrow at him.

He laughed, shaking his head. “Of course you are the one I meant. My favorite person.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips. “If Soonie, Doongie, and Dori were people, they’d be your favorites.”

“Of course,” he agreed, his tone light.

You returned to your studies, but Minho didn’t leave. Instead, he plopped down on the couch, stretching out as if he had all the time in the world. You tried to ignore him, but it wasn’t long before he broke the silence again.

“So, who was that guy you were with at the café earlier?” His tone was casual, but you could feel the underlying curiosity.

You hesitated, not sure how to respond. You didn’t have to be honest, but something made you want to see how he would react. “He’s a suitor,” you said nonchalantly, not looking up from your notebook.

Minho’s expression shifted slightly, but he quickly masked it, leaning back with a smirk. “A suitor, huh? I should tell your brother. Maybe he’ll confiscate your phone so you can focus on studying.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, feeling a spark of irritation. “I’m not a kid, Minho. I can decide who I want to spend time with.”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Oh, really? You’re still just a freshman. You should focus on your studies instead of getting distracted by things like relationships.”

Your irritation grew. “What about you? You’re in a relationship with that girl you were walking with, but I can’t be in one?”

Minho’s eyes widened slightly in surprise before he quickly composed himself. He knew you were jealous, and he had to hide the smile threatening to break through. “So, you were jealous?” he teased, leaning forward.

You felt a flush of heat rise to your cheeks, and you stood up abruptly, gathering your things. “I’m not jealous,” you snapped, turning on your heel to head back to your room.

As you walked away, Minho couldn’t help but smile. He knew you were, even if you wouldn’t admit it, and that only made him like you more.

Life continues as usual, with your brother Jisung and Minho still finding every opportunity to tease you. Tomorrow is their graduation day, and as you walk into your brother's room to borrow a math book, you decide to ask him a question that's been on your mind.

"Jisung, what’s your plan after graduation?"

You’re genuinely curious, even if you’d never admit it to his face. Despite all the sibling rivalry, you’re proud of him for making it this far.

"Probably end up unemployed," he replies with a shrug.

You give him a deadpan look. What answer did you expect, anyway?

"Obviously, I’ll take the board exam first, then start job hunting," he says while folding his clothes. Then he glances at you, squinting. "You’re not asking because you’re curious about Minho, are you?"

Yeah…no!

You quickly throw a pillow at him, trying to hide your flustered expression. "Do you really think my world revolves around him?" Jisung catches the pillow and smirks, clearly not convinced.

"Even if you don't ask about Minho, I'll tell you anyway. Remember when I told you to spend more time with him? You should’ve listened, because after graduation, he’s going abroad. There’s a job offer waiting for him."

Oh…

You manage a nonchalant nod, but as you leave his room, the news weighs heavily on your mind.

That night, as you lie in bed, you can’t help but replay Jisung’s words over and over. Minho is leaving. The thought sends a strange ache through your chest. You try to tell yourself that it’s not a big deal, that his absence won’t matter—but deep down, you know it will.

Graduation day arrives in a whirlwind of excitement. Your parents are there, beaming with pride, and you stand among the crowd, clutching a bouquet of flowers. You watch as your brother and his friends, including Minho, happily pose for group pictures, congratulating each other and hugging in celebration of finally finishing their studies. The joy is infectious, but there's a tinge of sadness in your heart.

Minho is leaving.

The thought lingers, even as you force yourself to focus on the present moment.

"Hey, little devil, take a picture of us," your brother calls out to you. You roll your eyes at the nickname but comply, grabbing the Polaroid camera hanging around your neck. It is his day, after all.

You snap the picture, capturing their bright smiles and laughter. The moment is perfect, but it tugs at your heartstrings.

Minho is leaving.

No matter how much you’ve pretended to hate him, the truth is, you’re going to miss him more than you’d like to admit.

"Are these my flowers?" your brother asks, reaching for the bouquet in your hands. You quickly hide it behind your back.

"They’re not yours! Mom has your flowers," you retort, giving him a playful glare.

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischief, probably know what you are planning. "Okay, okay, I get it."

Just then, Minho approaches you, his usual teasing grin in place. "Can you take a picture of me? So you’ll have a souvenir picture of me," he said with a wink.

Pushing aside the urge to roll your eyes. Today, you’re happy for him, even if it’s bittersweet.

"Ha ha ha, I’m honored," you reply with mock sarcasm, but you can’t help laughing with him. You snap the picture, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest.

"We should take a picture together too," he says suddenly, taking the camera from your hands. He hands it to one of his classmates and stands beside you, draping an arm over your shoulder. You try to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks, secretly pleased to have a picture with him. You’re going to miss him.

After the picture is taken, you slowly extend the bouquet toward him. "These are for you. Congratulations."

Minho’s eyes light up with surprise and genuine happiness as he takes the flowers. "It’s my first time receiving flowers. I’m blushing," he says with a laugh. Then, with a mischievous grin, he adds, "Are you asking me to be your boyfriend? Wait, I need to think about it."

He presses a finger to his temple, pretending to be deep in thought.

You slap his arm lightly, laughing. "It’s a farewell gift, you idiot."

"Wait, you should give me more time to think," he says, closing his eyes dramatically. After a few seconds, he opens them with a playful glint. "Yes. I will be your boyfriend."

You freeze, caught off guard. What?

"So from now on, you’re my girlfriend," he declares, and before you can react, he leans in and plants a quick kiss on your lips.

Your mind spins as his words sink in. "I promised myself I’d wait until you graduate, but I can’t help it—especially since I’m going far away, someone might take you from me." he says softly and laughs, messing with your hair. "So wait for me, okay? I promise I’ll come back to you."

It takes a moment, but you finally manage a small nod, a smile tugging at your lips.

Minho smiles back, his eyes filled with warmth.

You realize then,

more than ever,

that you want him

just as much as he wants you.

[cardansriddle]

The diary - Tom Riddle x fem!reader

Summary:

When you stumbled upon a mysterious diary in the second-floor lavatory, you never imagined you would be caught in the web of Tom Riddle. What begins as innocent curiosity becomes something darker, as he slips into your dreams, your thoughts, your very skin. And before you realize it, he isn’t just haunting your nights—he’s consuming you, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left that hasn’t been touched by him.

Warnings: dark themes, smut, dub-con? kind of. not proofread. dumbledore cameo

A/N: Hopefully this is a worthy comeback!! It's been such a long time since I last posted here so I hope this isn't too rusty. I surprisingly enjoyed writing a darker narrative so lmk what you guys think!

༻♛༺

You were not exactly at fault for how it started.

You had only wandered into the second-floor girls' lavatory following a trail of water—moonlight slicing through the cracked windows, painting the tiles in silver streaks. The bathroom had been flooding. You’d slipped your wand from your robe pocket, lips parting to cast a simple Reparo to fix the broken pipes—and then you saw it.

A diary.

Its black leather cover shimmered with a slick sheen, as though it had not been drenched at all. There was a mysterious pull to it, and you approached it, not thinking, only feeling—as if the world narrowed to that single object.

The moment your fingers brushed the surface, cool and impossibly dry, a strange silence fell over the lavatory, and something in you shifted. When you grasped it in your hands, you had been overcome with an urge to never part with it again, and just like that...it began.

You had first turned the diary over to determine who it belonged to and had only seen the gold-embroidered name. Tom Marvolo Riddle. The name was unfamiliar to you.

You flipped through its blank pages, frowning. Nothing. No memories. No clues. And yet... it called to be written in, like it craved ink the way lungs craved air. So one day, when you were in the library, you decided to scribble in it, only for the ink to sink into pages of the diary and disappear with no trace left behind.

Then, seconds later, letters bled onto the parchment, neat and elegant.

Hello.

To say you were bewildered, would be an understatement. You thought perhaps it was a trick of light, or maybe it was your lack of sleep finally catching up to you and causing you to imagine things, when once again, words appeared on the page.

What is your name?

You sat for a minute, contemplating if you should really converse with this charmed item. You had never heard of such magic before, and before you knew it, your curiosity had won over any rational thoughts. You hesitated, but only briefly. Then, quill trembling, you wrote your name.

Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I'm Tom Riddle.

Browsing through your head, you came to the conclusion that you had never heard of the name before. Dipping your quill in the ink, you asked him the question that was ringing through your mind.

How are you writing to me through this diary?

I am a memory preserved in this diary.

Your hand faltered. So you were not just conversing with a charmed notebook, you were actually talking to a real person. Well...a memory of a person. A boy sealed in pages like a soul trapped between ink and silence.

Are you a student at Hogwarts?

I was. A long time ago.

Why have you preserved yourself in this diary?

There was no answer. You waited for what felt like hours but could have been only a few minutes, yet he did not respond. There was a strange energy surrounding the item, and had you not been so transfixed, perhaps you would have listened to your intuition and given the diary away to a professor. But your desire to find out more about it clouded over any reason, so you shut the diary and stored it safely in your trunk.

༻♛༺

The next time you opened the cursed object was hours after curfew. You sat cross-legged on your bed, curiosity flooding your brain with endless questions as you picked up your quill and wrote.

Hello, Tom.

It took a few moments for his reply to appear.

Good evening.

You chatted with him for what felt like hours, asking countless questions (and making sure not to touch upon the subject of his preservation in the diary lest he leave you without an answer again), and he in turn inquired you about your life.

You felt silly— finding so much pleasure in talking to a diary, but there was something enigmatic about this Tom Riddle persona that had you hooked.

He asked you things—where you grew up, what subjects you enjoyed, which House you were in. You told him everything. Not because he demanded it, but because with every answer you gave, he gave you more. Ideas, stories, the weight of his voice echoing in the shape of words.

You spoke to him every day. A strange intimacy began to form between you. One that defied explanation.

You shared complaints about professors. Tales of your friends. Moments of quiet vulnerability. You asked him about the school during his time—what had changed, who he had known. He answered thoughtfully, sometimes fondly. But never about himself.

There was always a shadow behind his sentences, like something coiled, waiting.

But as a week passed ever since you first opened that diary, you noticed the unusual amount of exhaustion that would take over your body. You were in a constant state of sleep deprivation, and no amount of potions could keep you energetic enough to go about your day without collapsing.

And then, the dreams began.

They started subtly.

You were wandering Hogwarts, yet it felt different—older, taller. The stone was darker, the air thicker. You turned a corner, and there he was. Standing beneath the arches near the Great Hall, his figure blurred like memory, his eyes like ink poured into glass. A boy—no, a young man. Tall and poised, as if carved from obsidian and smoke. His school robes were immaculate, draped across his frame like they were stitched directly to his spine, and the torchlight behind him caught the sharp angles of his face with clarity.

He was impossibly handsome.

The kind of beauty that felt wrong. Otherworldly. His cheekbones were high and cruel, his mouth curved in a knowing, unreadable line. Dark hair framed his face in elegant waves, shadowing his brow just enough to deepen the darkness in his eyes.

And his eyes were bottomless. Liquid night. No warmth. Only gravity, as though they could pull entire thoughts from your skull if you stared too long.

You knew, without him saying a word: this was Tom Riddle.

You froze, pulse thundering. It was the first time you'd seen him—beyond ink and parchment.

His gaze swept over you, slow and precise, like a knife deciding where to cut.

“Is this a dream?” You whispered.

He stepped forward. Just one pace. Enough to close space, enough to make your breath catch.

“Is it you I’ve been speaking to?” Your voice was smaller now. “The one in the diary?”

He smiled then.

It wasn’t reassuring.

“Yes,” he said.

And just like that—he vanished.

You woke up with a start.

The dormitory was quiet, but everything felt wrong. The edges of your vision blurred as you sat up slowly, blinking into the dim, gray light of early morning.

You were still in your bed. Still in the castle. Still yourself.

Your chest felt tight, as though the air was thicker somehow—harder to breathe. And even though you had just woken, your body pulsed with exhaustion.

The memory of it clung to you like fog—the image of him standing beneath the arches. That strange blend of reverence and possession in his gaze. It felt more real than the four-poster bed around you. More vivid than the chill creeping up your spine.

You pushed the sheets away, shakily reached for your wand, and lit the tip with a whispered Lumos.

The diary was exactly where you had hidden it: under your pillow.

Your fingers brushed over its cool leather cover. You pulled it into your lap, opened it to the first blank page, and hesitated before dipping your quill into ink.

Your hand trembled as you wrote:

Did you come into my dream?

A pause.

Nothing.

No reply.

You swallowed. The silence on the page seemed louder than anything else in the room.

You tried again, slower this time.

Was that really you? I saw you. I spoke to you. Is that possible? Can you do that?

Still, as the ink sank into the page and disappeared, the pages remained stubbornly blank.

The silence felt… deliberate.

You pressed your lips together and stared at the space where his words should have appeared for what felt like eternity.

༻♛༺

The next dream came the following night, as though the moment your head touched your pillow, you slipped into his world.

This time, he was waiting for you in the Astronomy Tower, seated on the ledge with the stars behind him. The wind curled around his form, but he didn’t shiver. His posture was perfect. As though he didn’t feel the cold. Perhaps he didn't.

“You are back again” he stated simply.

“I didn’t have a choice,” you replied, more breath than voice.

“You always have a choice,” Tom murmured. “But curiosity… it tends to be stronger than fear.”

You stood a few feet away, uncertain.

“I don’t understand why I’m seeing you.”

“Because I wanted you to,” he said, tilting his head, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You met his gaze, perplexed. “Why?”

He ignored your question, abandoning his post at the ledge in favour of stepping closer to you. "You have been asking about me." His tone was disapproving as he regarded you. "You will stop."

"I just wanted to know, to understand—"

“Curiosity,” he interrupted sharply, “is a disease. And you are already sick with it.”

His eyes roamed your face, not unkindly, but with a dangerous precision. As though he were committing each of your expressions to memory. Or dissecting them.

“Not all answers are meant for you. Not all doors are meant to be opened.”

That was the last thing he said before you woke up. You ran your hands over your face, wet with sweat. For the first time since finding the diary, you felt something curl beneath your skin.

Not curiosity. Not excitement.

Something closer to dread.

You couldn't shake the feeling anymore.

The dreams, the exhaustion, the way the world seemed increasingly distant during the day—all of it pointed back to him. Tom.

You had to find answers to the mystery that was this man. You decided to not heed his warnings, and made a mental note to inquire some of your Professors about a student named Tom Riddle.

So throughout the day, as you ignored your friends' concerned questions about your worn-down state, you began your inquiries. Though they seemed fruitless, that is until you crossed paths with Professor Dumbledore that evening outside the Great Hall.

He had always watched you closely—too closely, some students said—but now, when he met your eyes, it was as though he already knew something was amiss.

He greeted you upon your approached, eyes glinting like distant stars, and as perceptive as he was, he made a deduction “you seem… troubled.”

"I wished to ask you about something." You hesitated, then drew a shallow breath.

He waited patiently, nodding his head as he gestured for you to continue. “Professor… have you ever heard of a student named Tom Riddle?”

The silence that followed made the air go cold.

Dumbledore didn’t answer right away. He studied you in that piercing, quiet way of his. As if trying to read not just what you said, but what you meant.

“What brings this particular name to mind?” he asked carefully.

Your fingers curled at your sides. Part of you screamed not to tell him, but the other—rational, terrified part—knew you couldn’t keep pretending you understood what was happening.

“I… found a diary,” you said. “In the castle. It had his name on it.”

Dumbledore’s eyes darkened, barely perceptibly. “A diary?” he repeated. “Where exactly did you find this diary?”

You hesitated. “In the second-floor lavatory."

His face shifted subtly. Something like gravity passed behind his expression.

“Dear girl,” he began, and his voice took on a different weight—no longer gentle, but grave. “You must bring this diary to me. First thing tomorrow morning. Do you understand?”

You nodded, slow, reluctant.

“Do not write in it,” he continued. “Do not open it. Do not let it remain near your bed. This is important. There are things in this castle—remnants of old power—that do not sleep quietly.”

You were confused, but his words lodged somewhere in your chest, and for a moment you truly meant to obey. Truly.

You went straight to your dormitory after dinner, mind spinning. You placed the diary on your desk and pushed it away like it might bite you. You told yourself you would give it to Dumbledore in the morning.

But your body was already betraying you. Before you could even undress or extinguish the lamp, the fatigue crushed over you like a tide. Your vision blurred. Your head hit the pillow without you realizing it.

And in the dark—

He was waiting. And he was not happy.

“I warned you, even if you don’t remember,” he was livid, eyes flashing red as he stared you down. “Not all doors are meant to be opened.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“But you did,” he cut in. “You opened the door. You wrote in my diary. You let me in.”

You swallowed hard. “I didn’t know what you were.”

“Don’t pretend you regret it now.”

His fingers brushed your temple, featherlight. Your breath hitched at the contact—cold and electric. The sensation spilled through you like ice and fire, your skin hyperaware, tingling in the wake of his touch.

“You’ve been dreaming of me ever since,” he said, voice almost tender. “And each time… I take a little more.”

That silenced you.

His hand fell away.

And in that stillness, something inside you twisted—the slow dawning of comprehension. You felt your body differently now. Worn, sluggish. A tightness in your chest, as though some invisible thread had been pulling at your core night after night.

“What do you mean?” you asked, more quietly. “What are you taking?”

He looked at you, and for the first time, the answer wasn’t a riddle or a misdirection.

“You.”

You stared at him, the cold settling deeper into your bones now.

“My energy,” you whispered.

“My sustenance,” he corrected, with something like reverence. “You nourish me. Every moment you spend with me in this place brings me closer to what I once was.”

Your lips parted to speak, but you couldn’t find your voice. He was still watching you—his gaze almost gentle, but entirely unrepentant.

“This is how you’re here,” you breathed. “In my dreams. The diary...”

He nodded. “Dreams are the easiest doors to slip through. And you… you left yours wide open.”

You took a step back. He didn’t follow.

“So you’re not just a memory,” you said slowly. “You’re becoming real again.”

He gave a slow, almost regal inclination of his head. “The diary preserved more than memory. It preserved me. My soul, fractured, yes… but not broken. Not dead. And now—” he inhaled softly, as if tasting something on the air “—I am closer than ever.”

Your heart hammered against your ribs. “And when you’ve taken enough…?”

“Then I’ll be whole again.” His voice darkened with quiet ecstasy. “I will return.”

You felt your stomach sink. Your heart thundered against your ribcage as you dared to ask the next question. “Will I survive it?” Though you already knew.

He tilted his head once more, thoughtful. Almost amused. “No.”

The silence between you stretched, and for a moment, it felt like the dream would shatter under the weight of it.

But then, he stepped forward once again.

“I could drain you,” he said, and this time, his hand rested against your cheek—tender, reverent. “But I find I don’t want to.”

You looked up at him, dazed. “Why?”

Tom smiled. His thumb brushed your lower lip, and your breath trembled. "I find that you amuse me. It almost makes me want to keep you."

You trembled beneath his touch. It felt more real than ever.

“I can almost feel the heat of your blood,” he said, so softly it was almost a kiss, leaning in so close his lips nearly touched your ear. “Taste your thoughts before you think them.”

You felt your knees weaken.

His eyes grew darker, his smile more sinister as he continued. “There are… other ways,” he whispered. “Slower ways. You give willingly. A little more each night. And I become more… solid. Less shadow, more flesh.”

“No,” you whispered, stepping back. “I don’t want this. I—I didn’t ask for any of this.”

Tom tilted his head, that calm, terrible amusement flickering across his features.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said softly. “You wrote to me. You dreamed of me. You gave me everything, piece by piece. And now you want to pretend you didn’t?”

You shook your head. “I didn’t mean to. You infiltrated my dreams. You took from me. I would have never touched that diary if I knew it would lead to this.” You spat.

He brushed your neck with the back of his fingers. The touch was maddening, featherlight and possessive. Your mind screamed to claw your way back to the waking world and burn the damn diary. But your body—traitorous, aching, hungry—moved toward him without permission. His hand slid to your hip, slow, deliberate, and you grabbed his wrist—not to pull him closer. To stop him.

"I will keep you, how does that sound, pet?" Though he was not really asking you. Only toying with you.

“I’m not yours,”

“You were the moment you opened the diary,” he murmured. “You just haven’t accepted it yet.”

His hand cupped your jaw—cool, precise—but his lips were already descending, and when they touched yours, it was like stepping into fire.

The kiss started slow, a careful claiming. His mouth moved against yours with an eerie tenderness. But the softness burned away fast as you tried to resist, replaced by something deeper—hungrier. His other hand found your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you felt it: the sharp line of his body, the impossible heat of him despite the dream. Solid. Real.

Too real.

You gasped into his mouth, and he took the sound like an offering, slipping his tongue past your lips to taste you, coax you deeper. His fingers threaded through your hair, and he pulled until a groan escaped your throat.

Your mind screamed at you to push him away, but you were powerless and for a traitorous moment, you found you didn’t want to leave.

Not now.

Not when your blood hummed and your skin tingled and your body arched toward his like it knew him.

His lips trailed to your jaw, down your throat, leaving a blazing path in their wake. Every kiss was slow, deliberate, reverent—as though he were marking you.

“You see?” he whispered against your skin. “You’re giving.

You didn’t know how the room had changed, only that now you were lying on soft silk sheets, his body above yours, his weight pressing into you. His robes vanished, unspoken, revealing skin pale as marble, carved and perfect. Not boyish. Not innocent. This was a man shaped by ambition, by power, and now—by you.

His eyes—black and gleaming—darkened further, as though those words fed something inside him deeper than magic.

“I will have you,” he said. “And I will keep you.”

He kissed you again—harder this time—and his hands roamed, exploring every inch of you like he was memorizing, claiming, devouring. His name left your lips in a shuddering breath as your clothes faded from your body with the surreal, effortless logic of dreams. Nothing between you now—just skin and heat and the thrum of something sinister binding the two of you together.

He moved over you like a storm—controlled, but intense. His touch was all-consuming. Every motion was deliberate, coaxing the ache between your thighs into a feverish need. He knew exactly what he was doing, guiding your body to open beneath him, to receive him, to belong to him.

When he finally pressed inside you, slow and deep, you cried out—not in pain, but in overwhelming pleasure. He groaned against your neck, a sound of satisfaction, of ownership.

“You feel that?” he whispered into your ear, voice shaking with restraint. “This is real. You’re making me real.”

You clung to him, to the impossible way he filled you, the pressure and stretch and warmth of it, as he began to move. Each thrust was smooth, calculated—building steadily, matching your breath, your moans, until your body rose to meet his instinctively.

His mouth never left your skin. Bites, words—some in Parseltongue—spilled into the hollow of your throat, down your chest, laced with magic you could feel.

You couldn’t speak. You didn’t want to.

You only felt.

The pleasure within you approached fast, and when you came, your body arched into his, trembling and gasping. He followed you seconds later, with a sound so deep, so raw, lodged from his throat. He buried his face in your neck as he spilled inside you, hips stuttering, every inch of him tense, vibrating with power.

After, he didn’t pull away. Staking his claim while inside you.

“I told you there were other ways,” he whispered. “You’ll sleep deeply now. But in the morning… you’ll feel me. In every part of you.”

You drifted into unconsciousness in his arms, too spent to resist, too dazed to care. You had given in. 

Your head screamed.

Your body sighed.

༻♛༺

[aionishoh]

realized I haven't posted anything so take this:

Male!Yandere x former yandere! reader (Highschool setting)

originally written in a they/their, so im sorry if i missed a spot

There he were. Absolutely doing nothing but catching your attention. he blended in perfectly in the crowd but your mind made them the only thing you see. It was almost funny how you could miss such a thing.

It started with a simple pass by. You walking in a direction, and them walking in the opposite way. You didn't really pay attention to them and assumed it was a normal stranger. Completely unknown.

But it was when you saw him again. You realized how nice he looked. You began to notice his fashion sense. Shirt always a bit ruffled, bag swung lazily, hair clean but a little disheveled.

Then, on the third meeting. It was more of a fate. "Ah! You again. We have met, have we not?" He asked, looking at you with a sense of rememberance.

Did i mention you accidentally bumped into them during your second meeting? Hopefully i did.

"Ah! Uhm, yes. We did meet."

He introduced themselves, and you got welcomed into a side you didn't expect. Infatuation.

It turns out, he often frequented the places you went to. Along with sharing the same classroom. But, you went ahead and got a bit greedy.

"Hey, do you mind if i could borrow some notes?"

"Oh, sure."

You memorized his handwriting. Noticing how it was consistent and messy at the same time. The notes scattered but placed into relevant areas. You noted the way he wrote their o's and a's.

"Can i borrow a pen?"

"I don't really have the pens you use. But yeah, here."

You noted the way he held their pen. The way he looked when writing down. The way he magically made their handwriting look smooth with ease. You noted the pen he always uses.

Then, it started getting more personal.

A camera.

In a modern world, who would need cameras when its already built in with phones? But, you couldn't deny the thought made you giddy.

As days passed, you made a little home where you can devote yourself to him. A shrine.

All the pictures hung up were him. All in various locations, all unknowingly taken. You were fully convinced you should be in a mental asylum but a little memorabilia wouldn't hurt a person.

In the shrine itself, was a couple of few things that belonged to him. A few strands of hair, a toilet paper that was used to dry his hands. A handkerchief that he thought fell off a roof but was miraculously landed in your everyday spot.

It was perfect. All that needed was a candle to light up your world full of him.

You walked past the cafe where you had the same order as him, your bag behind you and filled with materials needed for a group project with him.

A couple of few steps, you arrived at his house.

"Oh hey, welcome to my humble abode."

"Very humbling indeed,"

You placed your bag down, sitting on the couch, admiring his home before getting reminded of her "excuse". "Ooh, sounds really bad but can i use your bathroom?"

"Yep, its just down the hall. Mind if i take the materials out of your bag?"

"Not at all!"

With much haste, you went to his room after three tries and one of them finding the actual bathroom. The room seemed to be his taste, which led you to knowing it was his in the first place.

With a hum, you quietly snooped around. Finding personal belongings, such as their watch, diary, wallets. But then you reached the closet.

A voice in your head said take a small piece of clothing, but you knew better. Although you were creepy, taking pictures and knowing things about him. You knew this was a line that you shouldn't cross.

You carefully returned the things back to the way they were before heading back to the living room.

"You sure took a while."

"Spent most of the time trying to find it."

While doing this simple project with him. You realized your actions was almost concerning. I mean sure, you looked like those creepy guys from Wattpad, but this was borderline concerning.

As soon as you two finished the project, you went to your once safe shrine and removed the pictures from the wall. Taking one last look at each one before tearing them up.

This was bad. And all because of a crush. You werent even aware that your infatuation turned into an obsession. An addiction.

You threw the keepsakes and gizmos into the trash. Removing every hint of your previous crush.

You mentally set a line. If you were gonna have a crush, it wouldn't have to end with you taking photos of them and praying to them like a God.

It would be normal. A normal crush where you admire them and where you confess to them during Valentines day.

This is the end for your obsessed self.

The next day was a bit of a awkward situation. Usually you were talking to him about random yaps, making sure you would be remembered but you didn't need to anymore.

"Heya Y/N, ready for the presentation?"

"Hm? Oh sure! I already got what i need to say memorized."

During these times, you would usually scooch much closer to him as possible without being too obvious. But now, you just did as you normally did.

The project got graded well, and that was your last interaction with him for now. Atleast thats what you thought.

As days bled into weeks, he noticed how you weren't as clingy anymore. He noticed how you would usually wait for him after school but now he's the one waiting.

Only for you to be walking with someone else on the way home.

He began to pay attention on how you didn't have that same glint in your eyes whenever you looked at him. His eyes noticing how you seemed more calmer near him instead of you fidgeting.

Soon, he heard wind from your friends that you found a new crush.

It wasn't that he didn't know you had a crush on him, oh, no. Absolutely not.

He knew you looked into his room during the group project day. He had a camera set up in the corner and watched you shovel through his stuff. Watching you open his closet and only to pause.

Why? He had perfectly set up everything that day. The way to the bathroom had an easier shortcut, but he led you to the longer way where you can find his room. He purposefully left the door unlocked and his belongings out.

He neatly placed his most favorite clothes out front where you could easily take them. But in the end, you didn't take anything. Even placing back where the items belonged.

He always pretended like he didn't see you scuttling around whenever hes out. He always made sure he looked good in every photos you tooked. He knew that he was your Sun and it inflated his ego.

But why the change of crush?

He noticed that you aren't that clingy with your crush. You didn't take strange photos anymore. You didnt take any stray hair than fell from their head.

You were disinterested in him.

Merely seeing him as a old crush, and one you quickly got over of so quickly.

After all these times of pretending to be dumb, you let him go?

After all this time he spent trying to remember the things you talked about to him?

Impossible.

The new guy didn't even look closely to him. In fact, he was the complete opposite of him.

He hated how you weren't there to be his number one fan. He despised the way you seemed more far away than usual. He hated how you would only give him a wave or a nod when you pass by him in hallways, and not running up to him with a cheeky smile.

Well, might as well buy a camera and some thumbtacks. He's gonna need it for his shrine.

Oh, did i mention hes more crazier than you?

[captainsophiestark]

I Made You Breakfast

Kai Parker x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Summary: Kai's on his apology tour, and Y/N is his next stop after things didn't go too well with Damon or Bonnie

Word Count: 2,000

Category: Fluff, Humor, a little bit of Angst

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sighed to myself as I headed downstairs in my favorite pair of sweats, mentally making a list of everything I had to do today. It was an unfortunately long list, compounded by the latest supernatural drama, which my friends insisted on dragging me into. Bonnie had finally made it home from the prison world, thankfully, but that didn't mean any of the drama in our lives had gone away. In fact, it had almost doubled, with news of Damon's mother floating around in another prison world somewhere. I got halfway through an eyeroll at the memory of everything going on lately when I stopped dead in my tracks.

I could smell bacon, eggs, and toast wafting up towards me from the kitchen. Someone was here, in my house, cooking breakfast. And with everything going on lately, I knew for a fact it wasn't one of my friends.

I glanced around, grabbing a stake off the nearest end table. No vampire should have been able to get into my house unless they were a friend I'd already let in, but I'd had enough near-death experiences despite that fact that I was constantly prepared.

I crept towards the kitchen, trying to listen for any signs of trap or trouble. All I could hear was a faint clinking of plates. If someone had seriously broken into my house, why the hell were they just hanging out in my kitchen making breakfast?

I got my answer a second later when I burst through the door, going for the element of surprise, and found none other than Kai Parker standing before me.

"Oh, hey!" he said, jumping and spinning to face me with wide eyes. "You're up!"

"...Yup. And... you're here. In my kitchen. Making breakfast."

"Yeah! I hope you like it. Here, let me get your plate. I thought I'd have a few more minutes."

With that, he turned to the stove and starting scooping scrambled eggs and toast onto a plate. I just watched him, not moving an inch.

"Kai?"

"Yeah?"

"What the hell are you doing in my house?"

He turned back around to look at me again, his eyes wide and the plate half-finished in his hand. After a moment, his expression morphed into a sheepish grin. I just blinked at him, my expression unchanging.

"Well, after I merged with Luke, I started getting all these... feelings." He said the word like somebody else might say 'zits' or 'rash'. "And one of those has been guilt, for some of the stuff I put you through. Or I guess, your friends, mostly. I tried apologizing to Bonnie earlier, and... it didn't go well."

His expression darkened, and I frowned. But a moment later, the clouds apparently cleared, and Kai fixed me with a beaming smile again.

"So I thought I'd try again with you. In the Prison World, I saw Damon making Bonnie breakfast all the time, and she seemed to really like that. So I figured you might, too."

I just stared at him for a few long moments without saying anything. I turned my options over and over in my mind, trying to get my still half-asleep brain to make a rational choice. I probably should've been incredibly freaked out that Kai was here at all, but I'd actually had a few positive interactions with him even before the whole merge thing, and had kind of started to like him. Or, at least, started to think he had some ally potential, despite other things he did. We'd even bonded over music taste and his new fascination with social media, and he'd tried to help Sheriff Forbes, although it hadn't necessarily been out of the goodness of his heart. For some reason, I just couldn't muster the fear or anger I probably should've been feeling when I looked at him in my house. Finally, I sighed, my mind made up. No reason to try to force bad feelings when they wouldn't come on their own, right?

"Thanks, Kai," I said, actually meaning it as I moved over to the dining table. "Aside from the fact that you broke into my house to do it... that's actually pretty sweet."

He beamed at me, and I found myself returning his smile. He turned back around to finish making my plate, and I shook my head. This was absolutely ridiculous, but I couldn't say I minded very much.

"Here you go!" he said, setting the plate down in front of me with a big smile. He didn't move away, just standing off to the side and watching me expectantly. I picked up my fork, but didn't take my eyes off Kai.

"...Aren't you gonna join me?"

"Oh! Right. You know, I've been practicing how I was going to do this in my head all morning, and now that I'm actually doing it it's like I completely forgot everything I was planning to do. That's weird, right?"

I shrugged. "I mean, sounds like a normal part of being nervous to me."

He nodded emphatically as he returned to the table and sat across from me with a breakfast plate of his own.

"All these new... emotions from Luke have been, like, super weird. I don't know how you all deal with these all the time."

"Eh, yeah, they can be annoying sometimes. It gets easier with practice though, and I'd say on the whole they're a positive experience."

Kai nodded thoughtfully, taking a bite of his eggs as his gaze wandered around my kitchen. I took a few bites of my own food, and I had to admit, he was a surprisingly good cook.

"So..." I started. "Was this it for the apology? It's a great breakfast, but usually an apology has a little more attached..."

"Oh!" Kai's attention snapped back to me. "No no, this isn't it. I was planning to do the other part of the apology while we ate breakfast."

"Makes sense. Go for it."

He cleared his throat and shifted around in his seat, then met my eyes before hesitating again. I tried to look encouraging as I ate my eggs, and after a moment, he nodded to himself and continued.

"I'm sorry for trying to kill your friend, and testing out my power on her. And that I couldn't save your other friend's mom, even though I really couldn't do anything about that. I still... I still feel bad. And honestly, I'm mostly sorry for everything I've done that hurt you, even if it was indirectly. I... I actually really like you, and so, uh... I don't want you to hate me. I keep getting this stabbing pain in my chest when I think about it... or when I think about that time I saw you crying over Bonnie..."

He trailed off, staring at the table instead of me, apparently lost in thought. After a moment though, he shook his head and cleared his throat, looking back up to meet my stare again. His blue eyes were wider than usual, his eyebrows pulling together, and he looked to be in actual distress for maybe the first time I'd ever seen, at least when his life wasn't being threatened.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I promise not to do anything to hurt you again. Will you give me a second chance?"

The corner of my mouth quirked up in a smile, especially at the rare senserity in his tone. I knew my friends would have quite a few things to say about this decision, but I didn't let myself think about that. At least not right now.

I sighed. "Kai, despite the fact that you broke into my house, I'm going to believe you about this whole 'turning over new leaf' thing. I... I'd be lying if I said I didn't like you too. So, if you really mean what you're saying about not hurting me or the people I care about anymore?"

He nodded so fast I was actually a little worried about him.

"Completely serious. Cross my heart and hope to die. I'm ready to join the Mystic Falls Scooby Doo team for good."

I smiled, laughing a little and shaking my head.

"Well, okay then. I can't promise anybody else on the team will be quite as easy to convince as me, but... I forgive you, Kai. I'm happy to see you like this. And, by the way, you make some very good eggs and toast."

"Thanks. I had to get good at cooking, you know, alone in the Prison World." A shadow passed over his face again, until I reached across the table and lightly rested my hand on top of his. Then, his face lit up like the sun. "And thanks for giving me a second chance. I promise, you won't regret it."

I wasn't totally sure I believed that, but I decided not to say so. Instead, I smiled and gave his hand a little squeeze before pulling back.

After a moment of silence where I could see Kai vibrating with the desire to say whatever he was holding back, he finally blurted out the other thing he'd apparently been planning to ask me this morning.

"So... I might be a little rusty about how all this works, or if it's changed since the eighties, but... would you want to go out with me sometime? Like on a date?"

I smiled, then buried my face in my hands. My friends would kill me if I said yes to this, but despite myself, I really, really wanted to.

"What's wrong?" Kai asked. I shook my head and looked up at him again.

"Nothing, Kai, I just... ugh, my friends are really not going to like this."

He smiled. "Does that mean you're saying yes?"

I took a deep breath and let it out, then shrugged and matched his smile with one of my own.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think it does. What the hell, right?"

"That's great! I was thinking we could go do karaoke? I've always loved karaoke. I got good at it when I was passing time in the Prison World."

"I have to warn you, I am very much not good at karaoke. But I'll still sing my heart out with you anyway, if you want to go!"

"Perfect! We can go tonight." I laughed, and Kai's expression immediately dropped. "Is that okay? Do you not want to go tonight?"

"No, Kai, I do. It's a little fast, honestly, but I don't mind. Why wait?"

"That's exactly what I was thinking. So... should I pick you up? Around seven? We could get dinner first, and then go."

"I think that sounds like a great plan, Kai," I smiled at him, which he immediately returned. A moment later, though, his hand shot up to clutch at his chest.

"Ugh, what is... what is happening to me? Why does my heart feel like it's about to explode?"

"That's probably excitement, Kai, or butterflies, which are like positive nerves. I'm feeling them too. It's because we're looking forward to going out together tonight."

Kai made a face. "This is what people were talking about when they said they got butterflies? This is terrible." I hid a laugh behind my hand, and Kai's eyes snapped up to mine. "Wait. You said you were feeling it too?"

I nodded, and Kai's expression immediately changed to a wide grin.

"So you're excited, too?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

He nodded, the smile staying on his face as he dug in to his eggs again, glancing at me between almost every bite. I just shook my head, a smile on my own face all the same. This was going to be an adventure, going on a date with Kai Parker, and I knew my friends were going to want to murder me for it. But I couldn't totally bring myself to care.

Despite some pretty rocky history, I had a weirdly good feeling about Kai, from the moment he'd started his apology speech this morning. And so far, I'd never been wrong when I trusted my gut for stuff like this, even when it led me into karaoke. I had a good feeling it was going to be right about Kai Parker, too.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21

[theaskscenter]

How do I worship the ground I walk on (first child, second gen immigrant)

See I love it when people ask the right questions. This is a great example of the right question.

You need to first view yourself as someone worthy of worship- and that's where the problem is. Religions, cultures, norms are curated to beat women into submission, and submission requires you to feel worthless and that worth can only come from attachment to someone or something else- a god or a partner or etc. I tell my girls you can not believe in a god and level up because that requires you to devalue yourself into complete worthlessness and audition for it / them/ it to find you worthy of blessings or whatever, so you start apologizing and begging for forgiveness etc. which reinforces the belief that there is something wrong with you.

You need to dismantle the patriarchy and religion and culture inside you first, kill everything in you that has been trained to audition for acceptance by how giving and nice and submissive you can be. Read up on radical rabid feminist theories and anti-religious and pro female articles until you start seeing all that bullshit for what it is- bullshit. The first step to being a queen is to dethrone whoever sits on that throne, and there's always someone. Find it. Gut it from inside out. Write your own articles etc whether in your notes app or notion or diary who cares, centering yourself as the point of focus.

Two, I'd say learning what you are - simply a person- should be next. Stanford University has their entire behavioral science program on You tube, and much, much more. Robert Greene's Laws of Human nature. Everything that says hey you're actually just an ape with great eyelashes! Shifting your thinking process from socialism and morality to oh this is just how it is. Because I'm a person. Again, deconditioning.

Three would be learning spiritualism. There are so many paths to this- reject every one that demands worship of something outside you OR that demonizes any part of you. You are simply this- the universe in a human body. Teal Swan if you can stomach her, is a great place to start. We don't align because she moralizes but at least she does not act like some Alibaba shaman and is on to something. Heavy on the 'if you can stomach her'.

Fourth would be journalling. By which I don't mean record how your day was scribe style- I taught you how to journal for your soul, remember? I mean that one. Nothing wrong with scribing, of course, but for this goal I recommend soul journalling. Eventually it becomes second nature to see life from a soul perspective, and then impossible to not worship yourself. In this life, you are your own God. You chose feminine for a reason. You chose to be a woman for a reason.

I feel like the appropriate answers would be to tell you to build yourself an altar bla bla but one google search will bring you to that- so I focus on what I think is important yet unsaid. All the 'how to center myself' techniques probably do also work, so do stick to them. My advice, however, is vacuums can not exist in the human soul. If you dethrone whoever you have sitting there, automatically you will rise to fill in the gap.

[samisverycool]

Hi! I love your yandere prince (sorry but you've written him too well not to like <3)

I just had an idea pop up and just wanted to share it.

So, the reader seems like a relatively strong female, in the sense of how she views herself and does seem to have the ability to yell at others when needed. (Unlike that time she was hit by two maids but then again it something she wasn't prepared for but she survived!)

And I just really wanna know how the princes reaction would be if reader stood up for someone sternly and even frightened the mean person by her glare. (Like maomao did from apothecary diaries and jinshi was surprised)

Thank you so much for writing your character! Hope to see more! Loads of love!<3

OMDZ this has been sitting in my drafts for so long 💔💔 bro im so busy its not even funny like release me rn pls 🙏

—> ooh yes, the reader is a very capable person! i haven't actually seen apothecary diaries, sorry 😞. thanks for the req tho ♡

࣪ ִֶָ☾. yandere prince . part five

part four

"that's exactly what i'm saying!"

a young maid by the name of lila beamed up at you, big eyes sparkling with excitement.

you were in the throne room, cleaning windows with other maids while the prince kept watch from his royal seat. lila was a new hire, and just a few years younger than you. she was shy at first, but after she warmed up to you it was near impossible not to adore her childish charm.

the two of you laughed as you sprayed and wiped, sprayed and wiped. the chatter was starting to increase in volume as the other maids started to give sideways glances at the pair.

you cracked a joke, making the young girl lose composure as she stumbled back. her heel caught onto the hem of her skirt as she bumps into another maid's bucket of soapy water. it clatters loudly onto the stone tiles, making some maids flinch.

lila gasped as she whirled around, hands flying to cover her mouth in shock. "oh. my. goodness. i am so sorry! that was an accident, please forgive me!" she immediately grabbed a nearby mop and bowed her head. "i'll help you clean it up. again, i'm really sorry—"

"well, yea, you should be."

the sour maid, marla's, voice cut through, sharp and unamused. her eyes were dull as she crossed her arms, "i didn't make this mess, so you can clean it up by yourself. maybe that'll teach you not to be so obnoxious while the rest of us are actually doing our jobs."

lila's face fell as her grip on the mop grew shaky, bottom lip trembling as she tried to hold tears back. her innocent eyes glazed over, not having the courage to talk back.

you frowned upon seeing her so upset. you stepped forward, "that's enough."

marla's gaze turns to you, incredulous. "excuse me?"

"she said she was sorry. it was an accident. don't you have any empathy?" you said flatly, placing a reassuring hand on lila's shoulder.

marla's scowls, "maybe you shouldn't be distracting others with stories—"

"maybe if you didn't pride yourself on picking on children, you would be more tolerable. stop yelling, it's unnecessary and frankly, embarrassing."

marla looks livid, lila is trying to stifle a giggle, and your eyes trail over to the throne.

there sits the prince, so quiet you forgot he was even there. papers were clutched in his hands, some in his lap, but his eyes were focused on you. he had this expression, not one of anger, but of awe.

"everyone, continue. you, my sweet, come here."

everyone bows their heads as they resume their work, even marla hurries back to her spot. you gently pat lila's back before approaching the dais leading up to the overly lavish seat.

you bow before the prince, but he pulls you closer. his eyes are wide, and you're taken aback by his boldness.

"you continue to surprise me," he laughs, too giddy, too pleased. "i knew there was something in there," he poked at your chest, "a fire. it just had to be provoked."

he smiles as his eyes light up, as if he can actually see a flame in your heart. this was the first time he'd ever seen you act this way, and it was addicting. like he needed to see what other emotions he could make you feel.

"you look cute when you're angry," he mumbles against your neck.

you glance around awkwardly, and the other maids pretended not to see anything.

[yetanotherhiddlestoner]

Summary ~ Daryl finds a journal on a supply run and reads it, what will happen when he sees the world through someone else's perspective?  Set in the commonwealth, straying a little from TWD timeline, but hey that the fun thing about fanfics right?

Daryl X Y/N. Words ~ 2449. Warnings ~ None (Photo found on Pinterest) Also I am trying to update I fell hard, you'll fall harder but it wont let me post it :(

The Entries Chapter 1

Daryl wasn't a man who just picked up a book to read it, not these days at least, if he found books for the kids then he would grab it and give it to them, he tries to recall the last time he actually read a book, but while he was looking for supplies, Daryl found a diary, the front looking worse for wear and covered in pink glittery stickers, something that reminded him of Princess and her style, Daryl's curiosity got the better of him and so and he opened it and read the first page. It read.

Entry one~

"This may very well be the last chance that I have to write, my family told me I should be a writer, I guess this is my last chance to ever get a book out there, but if anyone ever reads it, I hope you find comfort within the pages of this journal. My name is Y/N and this is the story about how I survived the apocalypse, or didn't I might be gone by now, in that case if would be a memoir right?"

Daryl shuts the book, placing it in his bag, he goes around gathering what supplies he can find before finally placing his bag on his back, starting up his bike and speeding back to the Commonwealth. Today was a good day for the supply run, he was able to find some medication for the community, canned food and some clothing for the small kids. That night as he lay in bed, he digs into his bag finding the journal, he starts reading it again.  

Entry two~

"I was born in 1989, 21 when the dead started attacking us, currently 26-27 years old although I have no idea if that is even right, I am just guessing the days and months at this point in this world, and I don't know how much time it has been if someone is reading this anyway back to my life story. My mother and father married at a young age, or at least young for them, they had just turned 20, been high school sweethearts, the whole Prom king and queen story line expect this was real life. It didn't take them long to start a family. My brother aka the eldest was born when my mother was 22, then another 2 years later came my other brother, the annoying middle child and then myself with a nice 5-year gap between myself and my second eldest brother."

Daryl flips the page to a collage of photos, ripped or cut to fit onto the pages. In the middle was one clearly done by a professional photographer, you are all sitting on the ground, smiling while looking at the lens, each person has their name on the photo, he looks at you in the photo. front and center, sighing at how happy you looked. Then in the corner is a photo of your parents on their wedding day, followed by photos of each child not long after they were born

"The day the world fell, I can't even remember the date, I was meant to be going to work, but my mother called me and begged for me to stay home, she begged for all of us to stay in our home, she told us all about the videos of people being shot down and them coming back and attacking people, I heard the terror in her voice, my brothers thought she was worrying for no reason, so they left for work. I tried to stop them, but they just wouldn't listen. I watched them walk out that door, hop in their cars and drive away, fearful that they wouldn't come back. I rang my friends, we chatted for a while, scared. We had planned on hanging at mine in the coming days, thinking this was just a temporary thing and that it would be fine within a week. How naive I was thinking the police and the government were going to be protect us.  I was very wrong. I watched as some of my neighbors left, cars packed up, houses left unlocked, pets left to fend for themselves. The street felt quiet, usually the kids would be playing in their lawns, coming home from school talking to their friends, or riding their bikes, now those things were left discarded. I watched the news, it only made my paranoia worse, watching them shoot down what I thought were innocent people at the time, the screams I could hear outside my door had me on high alert. My father never came home that night. He was away on business, he was meant to be coming home that day, I can only assume he is now dead. When my mother came home, she rushed us to get all the supplies and weapons we had, mostly kitchen knives, loaded them into the car, we waited for my father, constantly calling his cell phone and workmates but no-one answered, the longer we waited, the worse it got. During the night, I heard screams from down the street, saw neighbors running for their lives getting attacked, the screams as their friends chewed into their flesh, and then coming back. That night my family and I hid upstairs in one room, no lights, no noises nothing just praying we would make it through. 

Sunrise came and with it did us leaving our family home, the concrete covered in blood splatters, the groans of the dead coming out of the yards towards us, as I hopped into the car I gave the house one last look the one that I was born and raised in. In that moment the life I had known was gone. I have no idea if my friends were alive and if they are I hope they are well. That night, we tried sleeping in our car, taking turns at driving out of the city and further in land, my mother says we would be safe, away from the ones who can kill us. I doubted it though. We could see the cities being bombed from our car, the flame lighting up the horizon."

Daryl flips the page. His fingers glide over the page of photos once more, he notices that is your style, you write and then you put photos. He likes it, he likes that you are a real person, that had a real life, real friends.  Entry three~ "We drove for what feels like days, we pass the undead, we even ignore the hitchhikers, we can't risk taking on the wrong people my brother says. I've seen children biters, that is what we have come to call them, it breaks my heart. I had always wanted to be a mother but now I don't see kids in my life, not if my life is constantly running from the undead or living in fear."

Daryl keeps reading, finding himself more intrigued with each line. Another page, another photo of you and your friends, of you and a dog, he can assume might be a pet of yours once. You started drawing things you have seen on your travels; he takes in the details of each piece of art. You have a knack for art, a lot better then himself he tells himself. Another glimpse into your life. Another thing her learnt about you.

Entry four~ "The days pass in a blur now, it's been months since shit hit the fan. I think it might be coming up to winter, the air is cooler, a nice bite to it at night. I lost my brother to a biter; he was out trying to find more supplies when the dead came out of nowhere, he tried to fight them off. He managed to get away and spend his last few moments with us, his body bloodied and bitten. I watched as he turned, his eyes glossing over, the snapping of his teeth as he reached out for our mother who was crying for him to stop, I didn't think I just acted, my knife plunging into his skull, he was my first biter I had to put down, we buried him in a field under a tree. Our mother hasn't been the same since, she barely says a word these days. We lost our car, ran outta petrol, lost most of our things, I managed to save the one thing I need in my life, my photos, my memories in the one bag I don't ever want to lose" At the bottom of the page is a Polaroid of yourself."

Daryl notices the tally on the bottom of the page. Later on in the journal he would see the numbers go up each time, you didn't write about them but you kept track.

Biter - 1 Human-0 Animals -2

And then a photo of the makeshift grave you buried your brother in. His date of birth and just the year 2010 at the end.  "I know it may seem silly to whoever is reading this but as long as I got a camera, batteries and film, I'll keep taking photos, documenting what I survive through, until I can no longer find the supplies. I'll keep doing this until I am no longer able to. It is the only thing that makes me sane, it makes this world feel to real"

Entry five~ "I know death comes to all, but I didn't think my own mother would end it herself. I should have seen the signs, she stopped eating, stopped speaking, stopped living, day by day the life drained from her eyes, I think ever since we left, each day has made her realize that things were not going to get better. My brother and I buried her as best we could then we headed back out into the world, on foot for miles, tonight our home is a service station, not really safe, we are holed up in office, being as quiet as possible, we have raided the shelves for food and water, if we lucky we might get another day to rest here and then we will keep moving. I doubt we will make it to the mountains, it is too far to travel by foot."

He sees the cut-out photo of you and your mother, noting how much you look like her, you have her hair and facial features. His fingers move over the photo, he feels sorry for you, he knows how to feel to lose a loved one. You look so happy in this photo, the world can be cruel.

Entry six~ "I tried, I tried so hard to stop him, I screamed at him, begged him. But he didn't listen. Now I am all alone in the world I wasn't born for. My brother, the eldest, always looking out for me, we got stuck in a rundown house, he used himself as a diversion. He screamed at me to run, to get out. I grabbed my bag and ran, the last thing I saw as I turned back was him being over ran by them and screaming for to keep running, don't look back and that he loved me. My brother was a person who rarely said the L word, so hearing his last words as that made me run harder, until my chest burned. I have found a small tree house in the woods, I am guessing it was a child's secret hideaway, built by their parent's or at least that is what I am telling myself while I cry for the lost of my family, for tonight it is my sanctuary.  I have no idea how I am going to live alone; do I find a group? Do I try to live alone? I am scared, I haven't felt like this since day one. I have no idea what tomorrow brings, I have limited water, limited food and a couple weapons." Daryl continues reading the journal well into the night, when he glances at the clock its almost 2am in the morning, he decides to close the journal for the night, placing it on his nightstand. 

When he picks up the journal again, he can't believe how much he has read in a short time.

Entry 17~ "Found a library today, took out the undead inside, found a book on edible foods in the wild and how to survive out here. I am hoping they come in handy as my rations are almost out, also found a book to keep me entertained."

Biter-16 Human -2 Animal-8 Entry 18~ "I miss them." Daryl reads those three little words and feels a pang in his heart.

Entry 19~ "Today I snapped. A biter came out from behind a corner and in a second, I saw my life just die away. I beat that thing into a bloody pulp, smashing its head over and over, while tears formed into my eyes. Am I losing what little humanity I have left? Is being alone making me into an animal?"

Daryl grimaces at the photo of the now dead walker that you took. He wonders why you took that? Why would you want a photo of something that broke you? He has had his fair share of kills, yet he never truly wants to remember them.

Entry 20~ "Found a creek near the road I was walking, I have learnt how to filter dirty water, at least I have something to drink now, I just need to find food and a place to rest for the night. I have no idea really which direction I am going; I have to learn all this now."

Biter-36 Human -2 Animal-14

Entry 21~ "I am nearing the end of the book, the pages filled with the stories I have written, photos I have taken, I have truly lost track of time, the days, the months everything is mashed into one big never-ending nightmare. I fight for my life daily, it is exhausting. I think my next stop for me is the next town 30 miles away. For now I leave this journal here, for anyone, if there is anyone left out there that is. Please take care of my photos, my life story, it may not be anything these days."  The last words written hurts Daryl a little. "I truly don't want to die. But I don't know if I am strong enough to live."

And your signature style is a photo of you, he guessing you took it the day you finished the journal, you look sad, alone. He just wanted to hug you and tell you it's going to be alright.

[kanmom51]

Okay so I had to put my thoughts down in words

I just don’t know how to feel about what Jimin said in the bts of Muse, other than sad.

I guess I should start by saying I’d been dreading him saying something along the lines of that since I heard Who, as to why he made it. The MV bts came and went and then bam, we get a mini production diary, with saying he’s looking for love and is alone. Exactly how I thought he would explain it.

I hoped I’d be wrong but alas, he more than confirmed he is single. I suppose it’s not surprising, but all of our collective hope or support seems in vein now.

I’m still going to watch the travel show but I feel sad about it tbh. They make such a cute pair.

I'm really sorry that you feel that way love.

Especially knowing that you are just not taking what JM said the right way.

In any case babe, whatever you might believe about their relationship, that shouldn't take from you supporting them for being the most adorable human beings possible.

I won't go too much into the BTB. I do think you need to watch it multiple times, try to pay attention to JM's body language too. But I will say that I do think that your reaction here is unwarranted, in the sense that JM IS NOT saying he's single or that he is looking for love or that he is alone.

Let's start with the fact that JM was going for the gender neutral lyrics to start with, but that changed, probably because it sounded better with the "she" instead of the "you".

So, yeah, JM originally wasn't looking for a she, but a you. Funny how if this was an autobiographical song that would have mattered, right? Oh, wait a second. It isn't.

The song is not about JM, not about his real life, not about his actual experiences down to the T.

Not this song, nor Muse the album, even though the other songs were written by him.

Not an autobiography. Unlike Face.

JM says it here and he said it in his album exchange with RM!!

See, it looks like you are doing exactly what JM wanted fans to do. And that is get the wrong idea!!

Did you miss this perhaps?

Yeah, you probably missed JM saying this.

Btw, when JM talks about his diary, I really don't believe he means a personal diary where he writes his wants and needs and experiences, lol. He's talking about that diary where he writes his ideas for the album, his ideas for the songs, where he wrote his lyrics to the songs for Face (we got that diary with Face) and for Muse. And JM, he's a shy boy, Idk if you are aware of that. This young man who oozes confidence on stage is so very shy and the experience of having to explain to John Billion the idea he wants for the song and it coming to life left him a little self conscious, shy.

This isn't about the song telling the story of his life. This is about having to explain an idea for a song, his vision, it actually being something that he isn't going through.

Ok, moving on.

Again, JM explaining the vibe he is going for with the song.

And again his shyness.

He continues to say that he poured all his emotions into this so he's embarrassed.

Not because these emotions are his as in this is what he feels right now longing for love, but because he feels embarrassed to explain his emotions about the song, the emotions he's looking for in the song.

I suggest that if you are having an issue with understanding how this song is not JM, not his life, maybe go rewatch the album exchange with RM.

And read my post on it as well.

These feeling JM is trying to encompass in Muse (and Who) are part of the universal language of love, a language he is using in Muse to convey his message, which is not literal.

And specifically when he talks about Who, it's about that feeling of excitement in his work that he's looking for. Those are the feelings he's talking about. Not the lyrics about the "she" (who was supposed to be a "you"). Not the lyrics that are written in the universal language of love. No. It's about the feelings about his work. The feelings about the message he is trying to convey. Which has NOTHING to do with his love life!!!

But again, he's telling us about those feelings through a language we all understand. So that longing he has for that feeling with his work is brought to life as a longing for a someone to love.

This!!

It's a story he wants to tell!!!

And the whole "everyone's living alone" sentence that you are probably clinging to, cause obviously...

a. He could be talking about the fact that at some point of every person's life, they are living alone, as without a partner, a loved one, and as such it's a relatable feeling.

b. It's not like people that are in relationships don't feel alone at times. Even JM, who was in a committed relationship with JK when going through the struggles and feelings he had and poured into Face, into Alone felt that way. I bet you JK was feeling alone or lonely during the time JM was working on Face and Muse. During those lives in Feb 2023. And yet, he was in a committed relationship with the person he loved.

c. He's trying to tell a story, and he's trying to convey his longing for that feeling with regards to his work, and being lonely is how he's explaining it, the way he's conveying it to us. Hence the "everyone's living alone"... meaning - that is something everyone will understand, meaning, hoping he picked the right idea, the right way to convey his message as the 6th song for Muse!!!

THAT IS ART!!!

And JM created art. Not "this is a song based on my own experience" art, which he did with Face, but "this is a story I want to tell that will help you understand my feelings about my work" art.

And he knew.

He knew people will make the wrong assumptions.

Just like you are right now.

Side note, and before I go, Idk if you have noticed this, but Muse, promoting the album, talking about the album, is so much easier for JM to do than Face. With Face all we got was that it's personal, that he was struggling, but not much more than that. JM was pretty much staying quiet, and even when he did talk he was saying much of nothingness. While with Muse he's talking, he's opening up, he's explaining. You know why? Because it's not about his life!!

Just saying.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

What is your opinion on each of the known students in Ms. Mendeleiev's class (Marc Anciel, Aurore Beauréal, Mireille Caquet, Jean Duparc, Zoé Lee)? I realize that Zoé’s section of your answer will most likely be the longest, but I figured I’d go ahead and put them all in one ask anyways since there’s only five out of sixteen total and having one ask for each of the other four seemed unnecessary.

Zoé is going to get the most analysis out of me, so we'll save her for last and start with the character that I have the least to say about:

Jean Duparc

I didn't even know who this was, so I had to check the fan wiki page about him. He's apparently a minor character who gets akumatized and defeated off screen. His design is so generic that the trivia section reads, "Jean's design is a regular background model used in groups and crowds in the series."

So, yeah, nothing to say about this one. I can't have opinions on a character who barely even counts as a character.

Mireille Caquet

Mireille is a minor step up from Jean in that I actually know who she is - she's the girl who wins the weather reporter job at the start of Stormy Weather - but as far as her personality goes, I have nothing to comment on because Mireille does really have a personality. She only exists so that Aurore has someone to lose to at the start of Stormy Weather. That's why Aurore has a really cool and memorable design while Mireille looks like she's wearing pajamas. I don't think Mireille even has lines at any point in the series. If she does, they're not memorable, making her another character who barely counts as a character, leaving me nothing to talk about.

Aurore Beauréal

I really like Aurore's design, but there's not much else for me to say about her because we don't really get to know her character. She made for a fun akuma and that's all that she was meant to be. Her non-akumatized lines are just generic ranting about her loss

Aurore:(in the elevator) I should have won, I have the talent, the star looks, everything! But she took everything away from me. They took everything away from me! They--

and a generic statement of confusion after she's freed from her akuma. I wouldn't have been upset if she'd become a reoccurring character because - once again - she's got a really cool design, but I can't tell you anything else about her, so there's nothing for me to analyze.

Marc Anciel

Marc is the first character with some actual substance, but the substance is hardly abundant. He's just a kind of generic shy writer. I'm not sure why he's been added to the cast as a reoccurring character because they really didn't need more characters and they already have a writer in Alya. So I don't dislike him, I think he's fine, I'm just not sure why he's here. I was especially confused when he was given a miraculous because what has he done to earn one? He's not even part of the miracuclass where everyone gets a miraculous no matter how unworthy they are. It feels like he was just picked because they needed 18 holders, but they only had 17 and Marc is Nathaniel's comic-writing buddy, so I guess he's good enough?

Speaking of Nathaniel, I know that people ship him with Marc and that they're kind of implied to be together in the show, so I guess I should comment on that? I have to admit that I'm not a fan. Nathaniel's actions in Reverser were incredibly off-putting making this yet another couple with a really unhealthy foundation to their relationship. Why does Miraculous keep doing that???

In case people don't remember, Marinette gives Nathaniel Marc's story to read and Nathaniel assumes that it's Ladybug's private diary because the story is called "Diary of Ladybug". Why Nathaniel thinks that Ladybug would have Marinette deliver her private diary to him is beyond me. This is especially true since it doesn't read like any diary I've ever seen and the episode starts with these exchanges:

Marinette:(sees Marc) Marc you made it! (Marinette runs up to Marc and grabs his arm) Come meet everyone! (dragging him inside) This is Marc, the boy I told you about! The one who's always writing. Marc:(hides his book in his jacket) Uh... I'm sorry I didn't want to disturb you.

Jean-Pierre: Alix is our expert at street art. (Alix flips spray can in the air and catches it) And Nathaniel- Alix: He likes to draw people in skinny suits. (Nathaniel throws a piece of paper at Alix and she laughs) Nathaniel: Welcome Marc. As you'll find out, the good thing about this place is you can say whatever you want and no one will judge you, or only in good fun. (Marc notices Nathaniel's drawing and walks over to him) Marc: I... I saw your drawings on the school website, but they're nothing compared to the real thing. The movement, the expressions, the attitudes. They're all so-- Nathaniel: Thanks... That's nice.

Jean-Pierre: By the way Marc, you've shown up at the perfect time. Marinette told us that you're always writing and Nathaniel is looking for a script writer. (Nathaniel smiles at Marc)

Based on all this, it's not weird for Marinette to assume that Nathaniel would be able to guess that she was giving him Marc's writing. After all, the first few scenes of this episode all happen during the same day, meaning that Nathaniel was given this book right after being told that Marc liked his art, being told that Marc was a potential script writer, and being told that Marinette was Marc's friend, but whatever. What really matters is that, when Nathaniel goes to meet "Ladybug" and finds Marc instead, he gets extremely mad and rips Marc's book in half:

Nathaniel: What?! You're not Ladybug! Marc: Of course I'm not, it's me, Marc. Didn't Marinette tell you? Nathaniel: Marinette? (He looks over to Marinette's balcony, where he sees her filming him) Marinette: Uhh, operation "Comic Book" has hit a snag! (Tikki hides) Nathaniel: You were trying to make a fool of me, weren't you? (Points accusingly towards Marinette) Do you think it's funny to toy with my feelings? Marc: No, not at all! I-I just want.. to make.. a comic book, if you want to, that is. Nathaniel: A comic book? Us!? Together?! Never! (He tears Marc's book in half)

Oh yeah, I'm totally shipping these two. Couple of the century here. Really living up to that whole, "say whatever you want and no one will judge you, or only in good fun" thing, Nathaniel. Why did you even jump to the idea the they were making fun of you? Nothing in the episode set that up as a reasonable conclusion. No one was bullying you and you seem pretty freaking secure about yourself. If any character was set up to assume they were being made fun of, it was Marc!

This is another case where the show is trying to make things Marinette's fault, but she's actually not doing anything wrong. This is almost entirely on Nathaniel. They had a relatively minor miscommunication and, when he discovers that, his reaction is to destroy another artist's passion project in a fit of rage.

Anyone who thinks that it's okay to destroy another person's property because they're hurt needs anger management classes before they're ready to date anyone. Any time I see Marc and Nathaniel together, I remember this moment and wish that Marc would get out of there because I just don't view Nathaniel as a safe person. This was just such a massive overreaction and it gives me major ick vibes. Especially since this is yet another case where the wronged party never really gets an apology. The most we get is this:

Ladybug:(turns to Marc and Nathaniel) Marc and Nathaniel? By now you realize there was a big misunderstanding, but if you give each other a chance, I'm sure you'll find out how well you can work together. (Nathaniel holds out his hand, Marc looks, smiles and shakes Nathaniel's hand)

Why are we implying that there was blame on both sides here? Marc was the wronged party in every conceivable way. Once again, major ick vibes.

Zoé Lee

Zoé is written like someone's Mary Sue self-insert which is not a dig on Mary Sues! Mary Sues are just the most popular female equivalent to escapist male power fantasies and escapist fantasies should belong to all genders! However, if you're going to write a character like this, then they're supposed to be the main character. It's really freaking weird to have a side character written like this.

What do I mean by a Mary Sue self-insert?

Zoé shows up out of nowhere and immediately becomes best friends with all of the core cast members

Zoé has a tragic backstory that everyone finds oh so sad and comforts her over even though it really should make them wary of her ("I used to lie about everything and it lost me all my friends!" Yeah, I'll bet it did!)

Zoé is good at basically everything she tries and has no real flaws

Zoé gets brought into the magical girl squad in her second appearance, making her the character with the least development prior to being given a miraculous

Zoé is somehow the voice of reason, seeing the truth of things while everyone else is deceived in episodes like Kwami's Choice or Adoration, giving her things like the anti-Lila powers previously only held by Marinette and Adrien

Zoé is chosen as Adrien's replacement while Alya replaces Marinette, implying that these two are on equal standing somehow

In other words, Zoé is generic and kind of boring, but is treated as the best thing ever, which makes her a pretty annoying and crappy side character. The reason characters like this are successful main characters is because the whole point is escapist fantasy. You're supposed to be able to project yourself onto this generic cool person and pretend it's you being fawned over by your favorite characters. It's not my cup of tea, but I see the appeal and get why it's not hard to find stories like this especially in the romance, isekai, and fanfic genres, all of which are big on escapism.

While I will defend this type of character as fine in general, they have no place in a show like Miraculous. Miraculous is not an escapist fantasy. It's supposedly Marinette and Adrien's love story, so what is a self-insert fantasy doing here? The show really showcases how awkward this is in Adoration where Marinette spends the whole episode freaking out about Zoé liking Adrien - because of course the self-insert gets a love triangle with the leads - only for Zoé to confess her feelings for Marinette like a good little self-insert would, but of course Marinette can't accept those feelings so it's just kind of fizzles instead of leading to the standard self-insert romance with their favorite character. Writers, what are you even trying to do here? Why is Zoé getting all this attention? It's weird...

Zoé's awkwardness is only exacerbated by the fact that she's also a blatant Chloe replacement and I don't just mean the fact that she gets the bee. I mean that she's often used to disseminate information that Chloe would have or to fill the role that a redeemed Chloe would fill. For example, take this scene from the episode Gabriel Agreste:

Zoé: (rudely) Jean Quinton, did my mother tell you that the dinner party is no longer at Gabriel Agreste's tonight? Armand: Oh no! Madam didn't mention anything to me. Zoé: A helicopter will be coming to the roof, to take you over to the Eiffel Tower. Armand: Is mademoiselle sure about this? Zoé: Excuse me? Are you suggesting that I might be wrong? (walks away) Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! (to herself) Sorry, but it's for a good cause.

The writers needed Chloe for a minute, so Zoé adopts Chloe's personality to allow them to have a good Chloe without doing the work to actually make Chloe good. Btw, this scene shows exactly what I mean when I say that I want a wild card on the team. Someone who isn't afraid to be mean to get the job done. The writers clearly understand that a character like that has their uses, but then you'd have a character who is on the side of good, but who isn't a total goody two shoes and I guess we can't have that?

As you've probably picked up, I'm not much of a Zoé fan. I find her pretty obnoxious because she's so wildly out of place. Outside of her role as substitute Chloe, her character adds nothing to the story. There's no missing role that she uniquely fills because the cast was already bloated as heck when she showed up. To be fair, there are ways this could have been fixed.

Zoé shows up right after Chloe's betrayal and she almost immediately reveals herself to be a status chasing liar who is trying to be a better person. This should make everyone super wary of her and could have been used to demonstrate the difference between a person who doesn't want to change (Chloe) and a person who does want to change (Zoé). This would require the show to allow for multi-episode arcs, though, because Zoé's acceptance would need to be a slow process and not speed run in a single episode.

You could have also had Zoé show up at the same time as Audrey and used her as part of Chloe's story either to drive Chloe to be worse or to give Chloe someone who helps her get better because no one understands your messed up home life better than your siblings.

But those are some pretty major changes to canon. As is, Zoé is totally unnecessary and I wish that the writers would stop trying to make us love her by giving her cool roles in the story, shafting characters that we've all wanted more of in favor of this rando that they forced on us at the last minute. I will forever be salty that Zoé got the black cat instead of Nino. Alya had already had her identity outed twice, give someone else the Ladybug and let Nino get a chance to shine! Or just give the ladybug to Alya and black cat to Nino and imply that this is going to be a new love square situation. After all, Kwami's Choice has Tikki claim:

Tikki: No, they’re made for each other. Love is what gives them their strength.

Implying that the ladybug and the black cat should be in love so why are you picking Zoé and Alya? Not exactly opposed to that ship, but I don't think it's actually the plan, so what was that about? Plagg and Tikki didn't even seem to consider the comparability of their new chosen which is super weird given the whole "made for each other" line we get from Fu when he picks Adrien and Marinette in Origins. You can tell that no care was put into choosing the replacement heroes. They just once again wanted to show how cool Zoé is.

[shepherds-of-haven]

Hi!! I finished the Shery Diary Scene was curious, do any of the others keep a diary or journal or something similar? If so how often or what sort of things do they write?

Good question!

Blade, Trouble, Chase, Ayla, and Halek couldn't be arsed, and as for the others:

Tallys: she records her thoughts in a kind of chronicle out of habit, but avoids making it a regular thing and just writes scattered notes and memories down in a few lines with a date rather than making it a formal habit or routine

Riel: Riel is writing down a draft of a straight up future autobiography/memoir as things are unfolding around him, which I'm not sure counts as a "diary" so much as it is a historical chronicle? It's clinical and academic and doesn't have the kinds of personal thoughts and feelings you'd find in Shery's diary!

Red: he doesn't have a diary or a journal per se, but he has a workbook/research journal where he records academic thoughts, scribblings, calculations, and etc. to keep track of his progress and refer back to earlier notes. It's not a "Dear Diary, today so and so happened and I felt this about that," it's like "Day 32: tinkered with the Galongol framework and swapped out lyme for devil's claw and chalk. Not successful, but wondering if I should put the lyme back in. Will try that tomorrow."

Briony: she does, but only to help her amnesia; she tried doing a daily writing journal to keep a record of her thoughts and memories (out of fear that she should lose them again) but it seemed to put a lot of pressure on her and was more of a chore than a pleasure. A lot of her entries were like "Today, I woke up... I guess every day starts with one waking up. I suppose I don't have to record that part. And then I ate breakfast... (just like I did yesterday...) Instead of eggs, I went for toast this time..." It got pretty desultory and depressing after a while, like a kid doing laborious homework, but if MC brings it up, she switches to doing a sketchbook where she does a kind of doodle once a day to capture the spirit of her day or a scene for her to remember, and that is something she really enjoys!

Lavinet: she's probably the only one who keeps an actual regular diary like Shery does! Both of them write in it every day (though Lavinet only writes in hers when she's at home base, not out in the field) and it's a record of their thoughts, feelings, emotions, experiences, and ideas from the day, very stream-of-consciousness, intimate, and private!