#if I think a work is bad why would I care enough to create something in response to it?
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it was just going to be a few warmup doodles but then she infected the rest of the page like the ever eternal and spreading spores. hod!!! hod. hod :)
#lobotomy corporation#lobcorp#hod#hod lobcorp#lobotomy corp spoilers#I GUESS i almost forgot i drew her box form#lobcorp spoilers#and michelle actually. ..#both very tiny. itty bitty. microscopic#other sephirah there too as normal. i cant have her alone. and Angelina as well on the top patting her#i have a hard time fully capturing her for some reason. in my mind. maybe its because is the disconnected period!!! mentally#she genuinely wishes to care and be kind yet theres a dissonance with what she does..? or how it ends up being taken or what she does to en#up bringing those actions into reality. she can be forceful? wanting to have employees attend therapy sessions and meetings for suppression#tactics. which i think is also something the safety team is incharge of iirc. so that means shes doing way more that what she needs to on#her job as a sephirah. just for the sake of employees#she really does care as shes one of the only to Directly attempt to change their circumstances and quality of life and health#sure chesed doesnt punish employees when they dont do their work assigned or stress them out with work#but he doesnt actively push to attempt to make changes to aid employees besides the research perks which is to the manager#yesod IS right next to her and does also genuinely care but when it comes to employees hes distant at best when it comes to them and the#way he tries to protect them is by enforcing rules but he doesnt really create or attempt to help them like hod does#yesod is sort of a passive? way of doing it. yes he doesn make a push to enforce said rules but he doesnt make new ones. just follows what#is already there in place. hod tries to make new ways and not just for the safety of people like how yesod's has them physically fine and#not letting them over a certain threshold of mental corruption but she tries to have a program to Directly Address such a thing#its born out of care but the genuine worry of being a good person and her naivety ends up having it do more harm than good#sure there may be some employees that actually like and find it useful but so many are just accepting to their fate of Dying to where#her care seems pointless. shes a sephirah and to them a literal metal box why would they go ahead and feel bad for what an 'ai' is feeling#as she is interrupting their free time in the company#which is rude. and shit. iirc the counseling is compulsory but people go because shes a sephirah and their superior. the thought was there#but again it comes off wrong and ends up not working because shes their superior in the end#EEK!!! yeah... hod. the hod. there is WAY more but i can't fit it all here and i already typed enough
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"Truly GOOD works don't have thriving fandoms because people aren't interested in fixing them, so what do they have to write fics/make art about."
Idk about you, but I don't write fic for properties I don't genuinely enjoy and think are, on some level, actually good.
#like I'm here to EXPAND on shit I like is that not a common experience?#if I think a work is bad why would I care enough to create something in response to it?#you think I did all those episode reviews and wrote all that shit about cxgf because I thought it was BAD?????#I have ten (10) wips and ONE of them is a 'rewriting canon to be in line with what I wish happened' fic?#idk if I'd even call it a FIX fic. it's more of a 'slightly less personally depressing resolution' fic#I'm sorry. truly I don't understand this viewpoint#'if a story is well-constructed enough there won't BE any extra dimensions to explore' WRONG. I'LL /ALWAYS/ FIND THINGS. U UNDERESTIMATE ME#I WILL /CREATE/ BLANKS TO FILL IN /BECAUSE/ I LOVE THIS THING SO MUCH#like yes everyone is probably going to have at least one piece of media that they don't think is High Art⢠that they get unhinged over#(ctrlz squad sound off)#but I just...I'm sorry I cannot imagine spending all of my time going 'I will create things in honor of something that I believe is Badâ˘'#or 'this thing made me angry I'll exclusively spend my time fixing it' instead of just. watching/reading something else that I DO enjoy#also like...things that ARE widely-agreed to be genuinely good still have big fandoms sometimes?#tgp is pretty popular on here. csm is MASSIVE. both on and off tumblr.#and some things WOULD be otherwise easily fandomize-able: cxgf is one. dpat is another. but these don't HAVE huge fandoms because the shows#are not popular. like just. we live in a world where people are somehow both elitist and anti-intellectual at the same time#ANYWAY this is in response to that one post I saw about--*I am dragged offstage for my own safety*#In the Vents
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Danny, being a halfa, falls under the strange category of people who can converse with the dead and act in their names. Most mediums simply convey messages. It was rare for someone to be able to fulfill a ghostâs dying request and have that act tied to the ghostâs core.
Honestly itâs annoying.
He doesnât get any alone time anymore for homework or hobbies. The dead are constantly pestering Danny to help with their desires - which, sure, it helps them move on which means theyâre out of Dannyâs hair, but come on!! Give a guy a break! Just because he doesnât need as much sleep as a fully living person doesnât mean he can go without entirely!
âNo Scott,â Danny repeated for the fifth time, âI am not flying to California tonight. Do you know how far that is? Literally the other coast of this massive continent. Meet me there in August like everyone else on the list.â
Spending the first spring break of college creating a map and calendar for Last Rites was not something Danny expected when he moved to Gotham.
Why did this city have so many ghosts?! It was ridiculous. And he thought Amity Park was bad? At least the ghosts here were mostly Shades. Not visible to anyone unless they were also dead-adjacent or had The Sight or a bloodline curse or a magical amulet⌠you know what? There were enough of those in this curse ridden city, why couldnât these ghosts go find one of those people instead? Danny was exhausted.
So exhausted he didnât notice the vigilante dropping down from the rooftop.
âHey there kid, you alri-â
âYeah yeah,â Danny waved a hand dismissively at the voice without looking up. âWait in line like everyone else. But honestly youâd be better off coming back tomorrow when Iâve had some sleep.â
âThink maybe you outta get started on that sleep now, bud?â the voice behind him spoke in a calm careful tone.
One Danny had heard all too often since dying.
His head jerked sideways to stare wide-eyed at Nightwing, who tensed just a little as if expecting Danny to run or fight. Instead he let out a groan and slumped onto the park bench, rubbing his eyes to ease the burn of fatigue. Heâd been coming out to this park at the corner of campus each night to keep the Shades from mobbing him all day long in classes, but theyâd spread the word around Gotham that he was here and his precious spring break had become a non-stop line of requests and arguments. Made sense heâd caught the attention of one of the Bats. Should have expected it sooner.
Danny ignored all the voices around him and looked at Nightwing directly as he prattled off his usual list when someone caught him talking to thin air.
âNo, Iâm not hallucinating. I got all my Rogue Gallery immunizations the day I checked onto campus. Iâm not schizophrenic. The only meds I take are for adhd and the occasional Tylenol. Iâm not a danger to myself or others. Unless they attack me first.â
Nightwing nodded along, but tilted his head at the end.
âIâm talking to the dead,â Danny answered the unspoken question in a tired monotone, waiting for the usual skepticism or plea for help with lost loved ones.
âOh. Okay then.â
âWhat?â That wasnât expected.
âNo yeah, that makes sense.â
Danny was sure his jaw was on the ground. âYou⌠you believe me?â
âWell sure,â the hero shrugged and chuckled. âI canât see ghosts myself but I know a couple magicians who work with one, and my little brother Robin has a ghost on his team - sheâs actually visible most of the time so I donât know if thatâs a special skill or something else going on. But Iâm glad youâre okay and donât need any emergency medication. I know a couple 24 hour pharmacies that would help but itâs nice when theyâre not needed. We donât get a lot of mediums around Gotham holding court at night so you really canât fault me for checking in.â
Danny was still floating in the relief of not being questioned or doubted. That hadnât happened since Jazz found out his secret. Sheâd had plenty of questions about his halfa status, of course, but never called him crazy for talking to things others couldnât see. Even Sam and Tucker would forget sometimes and give him strange looks before realizing he was dealing with a Shade, Wisp, or Memory.
He didnât realize he was wobbling until Nightwingâs arms shot out to stabilize him.
Danny blinked up at the pretty face that was trying not to chuckle, held by strong arms, and so far past tired he might be getting delirious after all because his brain seemed to have lost its filter and he said out loud,
âYou actually believe me. I think I love you.â
Then the horrifying embarrassment hit at the same time as Nightwingâs laughter. Which⌠sounded delighted rather than mean spirited?
âWell now itâs your turn to wait in line, cuz thatâs the fourth confession Iâve had this week!â They both devolved into snorts and giggles, Danny still relying on those arms for balance, but when theyâd caught their breath the vigilante said, âCome on, youâve really got to get some sleep. Iâll walk you back to your dorm.â
Ignoring the whispers and grumbles of the Shades was easier with someone walking beside him.
This is so incredibly cute oml. Itâs so rare to see the bats actually go with the flow and god it isnât done enough. 12/10 immaculate, glorious.
The entire plot I can see so clearly in my mind dude:
Danny chatting to Nightwing as they walk to his dorm
Nightwing asking some casual questions about ghosts and Danny asking about vigilante work.
Nightwing informs the Bats of Danny as he might be a valuable asset in the future.
Nightwing helps free shades with Danny and he realizes why Danny is so incredibly tired all the time.
Nightwing managing to stumble into Danny every day of his break, slowly getting to know each other more and more and becoming really good friends (perhaps lovers đ).
Wonderful stuff man ty for the ask!
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falling for you (into the deep end) || Aaron Hotchner
pairing â Aaron Hotchner x Reader
summary â One second, you're standing next to your father's pool, ready for a cold drink on a hot summer day, and the next you're suddenly falling into said pool with a man you have never met before in your life. A man who shortly after introduces himself as Aaron Hotchner to you, your father's unit chief and friend. Yep, this is definitely your worst nightmare come to life.
warnings â meet-cute, fem!reader, rossi!reader, reader has rossi's last name, reader wears a bikini, reader is down bad immediately, Aaron is the sweetest guy ever, but also down bad, (unspecified) age gap, a cuss word here and there, short description of a hypothetical crime, no y/n used
authorâs note â I wanted to write something for Hotch, preferably with a reader who is Rossi's daughter. Throw in a quirky and slightly awkward meet-cute and voilĂ âhere we are! I'm pretty sure Rossi's mansion doesn't have a pool, but who cares, now it does! This fic kinda developed a life of its own near the end so let me know what you think about it <3
word count â 4.8k
masterlist(s)
series masterlist || âpart 1â part 2 - part 3 coming soon-ish :3

The soft ripple of the pool's aquamarine water rocks you gently, caressing your sun-warmed skin, the smell of chlorine, sunscreen, and what can only be described as summer tickling your nose.
The leaves of the trees surrounding your father's property rustle in a lazy breeze and you open your eyes, the clear sky that greets you as brilliantly blue as the water you're floating in, your arms and legs spread like you're mimicking a very happy and very relaxed starfish.
It's one of the hottest days of this year's summer and you decided to enjoy it thoroughly in the best way you know how: By lazing around your dad's houseâsorry, mansionâeating his food and commandeering his pool until you're all wrinkly, while he is at work, catching the worst monsters humanity has created.
You will always be worried about him when he's gone but you've only ever known a world where that is what your father does; hunting down killers, teaching others to do the same, or writing books about understanding and capturing these dangerous people. And making a ton of money in the process.
Naturally, he never wanted you to follow in his footsteps, knowing how dangerous, how grueling, how draining his work can be, hoping that his only daughter would choose a different path for her professional life.
And naturally, you defied his wishes.
Kind of.
Only last week, after years and years of studying and researching and writing papers and pulling all-nighters and drinking enough caffeine to power an aircraft, you graduated with a PhD in Forensic Science and can now proudly announce yourself as Doctor Rossi instead of Miss Rossi.
That's why you're currently back at your father's place, simply enjoying doing absolutely nothing before you're officially joining the workforce, hopefully helping to catch many more of the monsters your father and his team hunt and developing the methods and practices of your field further.
But for the moment, you're content to simply float in the pleasantly cool water, watching a single lonely cloud drift across the endless blue sky before you decide in a stroke of pure genius that a cold and fruity drink is exactly what you need to make this perfectly carefree day even better. You let yourself grow heavy in the water, your body sinking to the tiled bottom of the pool where you remain motionless for a few seconds, admiring the mesmerizing shifting patterns the sunlight paints underwater before you kick off the tiles, your fingers wrapping around the metal bars of the pool's ladder as soon as you reach them.
You climb out of the pool, water cascading down your body and creating a small puddle on the sun-warmed wooden planks of the patio at your feet. You grab your towel from one of the fancy deck chairs and quickly dry yourself enough to go to the kitchen and make yourself a drink before leisurely sipping on it while you lie in the sun, a hopefully good book keeping you company until you decide it's time for another relaxing activity.
With your game plan fully formed, you set it in action, going over to the sliding glass door that leads back into the house when you catch sight of your reflection in it, briefly pausing to fix the top of yourâif you might say so yourselfâsuper cute and flattering bikini.
But before you can then reach for the handle, a silhouette of a person appears behind the glass out of nowhere and the door slides open all the way, revealing a man you have never seen before in your life standing in front of you.
In your father's house. That you thought you had to yourself.
Oh hell no.
Immediately, your heart jumps into your throat, your pulse spiking in pure panic and you stare at the stranger fearfully, your brain frantically scrambling to find the best course of action that doesn't lead to your pictures ending up on one of the boards at your father's workplaceâone photo showing a candid shot of you smiling, probably from your recent graduation, while the others would document how the killer left your broken and bruised body behind on the patio, your blood painting the wooden planks red, seeping into the cracks between them, maybe even dripping into the pool's clear water and staining it with clouds of diluted blood.
The stranger's dark brows furrow in concern, and when he gently, carefully says your name, it does nothing to calm youânot in the slightest. Your body is stiffly frozen on the spot while your fight-or-flight response is busy flipping a coin and waiting to see which side it will land on.
But then the stranger takes a step towards you and you spring into action, yelping in alarm and instinctively taking one, two, three steps backwardsâaway from himâwhich you quickly realize was a big mistake when the terrible feeling of having missed a step makes your stomach drop.
And then time slows down.
With a startled cry you fall backwards, flailing your arms helplessly but without a chance to regain balance when your back foot is already hanging over the edge of the pool. The stranger's eyes widen in surprise and he urgently reaches for you, his warm and strong fingers actually closing around your wrist firmly, trying to pull you back towards himâbut it's too late.
Your momentum makes the stranger lose his footing as well and not a fraction of a second later the two of you break the pool's glittering surface in a joint, enormous splash, instantly submerged by the water.
Little drops of it are still raining down on you when you and the stranger come back up at the same time to gasp for air, your pulse ringing in your ears, looking and feeling more than a little disoriented. Your wide eyes find the deep brown ones of the unfamiliar man next to you and he silently stares back at you with an equally befuddled expression.
He's extremely handsome, your brain notes unprompted, even with his previously styled hair now completely wet, the dark strands sticking to his forehead and sending droplets running down his sharp features, some stubbornly clinging to his eyelashes and even the tip of his nose. Naturally, his clothes are completely soaked too, his dress shirt now clinging tightly to his body and it embarrassingly takes you a moment to avert your eyes from this sight, from his chest, and shoulders, and arms, especially when you notice the way he has the sleeves rolled up above his elbows.
With warm cheeks that have nothing to do with you lazing around in the sun all day, your gaze snaps back to his face which looks like he's still trying to comprehend what just happened.
And that's when the horrible realization dawns on you.
That maybe this man who didn't show any signs of aggression towards you and even tried to save you from falling, who knows your name and is dressed in suit pants, a dress shirt and nice shoes might not be a serial killer coming to end your life after all.
And you just made him fall in the pool with youâcompletely clothed.
Oh no. Not good. Very not good.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry! Are youâare you okay?"
The words tumble out of your mouth franticly, your voice too loud, too shrill, a wholly different kind of panic settling in that makes your hands tremble and your stomach feel slightly sick.
The stranger lets out a high-pitched, breathless laugh, an amused kind of disbelief on his face when he answers, "I am, yes. Are you alright?"
His deep voice is good-humored and kind, the kind that makes your knees go a little weak despite yourself and all you manage in response is a quick little nod, threading your fingers together in front of your body, nervously playing with them under the water.
You watch him brush the hair from his forehead with one large hand, slicking the wet, jet-black strands back, water running down his arm, droplets getting caught in the dark hairs on his forearm and he quickly looks at the probably very expensive and now very drenched watch on his wrist before his kind gaze finds yours again, saying, "I'm sorry I startled you like this. I thought Dave texted you I was coming over. He has some old case files on his desk he asked me to review while he's still at the office."
As soon as these words leave his mouth, your cheeks and ears flame up in shame while your eyes widen in horror. Because that means this man who is currently in the pool with you is an FBI agent, a highly skilled profiler working on the same team as your dad, and it's all your fault that he took a completely involuntary dive with you.
And then, as if you're not already wishing for the bottom of the pool to open up and just swallow you whole to end your misery, he adds the one thing that makes this surreal situation even worse.
"I'm AaronâHotchner. It's good to finally meet you. Your father talks a lot about you."
Cool.
Cool cool cool cool.
Because of course, of all the agents your father works with you just made Aaron Hotchner, the BAU's unit chief and your dad's very serious, very important and very no-nonsense FBI boss fall in the pool with, completely clothed, and probably ruining his expensive shoes and watch and wallet and phone in the process.
Sure.
No problem.
Definitely not one of the most humiliating things to ever happen in your life.
You are going to drown yourself in this pool.
With your mind and body locked in a continuous state of distress, you exhale a trembling breath that does nothing to calm you, the words just spilling out of your mouth, your voice cracking pathetically as you try to explain yourself and apologize to him, completely distraught.
"Oh god, I'm so so sorry, IâI didn't knowâI left my phone inside and haven't checked it in hoursâIf I'd known you were coming over, I'dâI'd neverâoh my godâ"
To make matters even worse you have to realize with renewed horror that tears are welling up in your eyes and you stubbornly press the heels of your hands to your eyes as you gasp for a breath, struggling to keep your emotions under control and regain even the semblance of composure. You refuse to make an even bigger fool out of yourself in front of him than you already have.
But that's nearly impossible when Aaron's voice is so infuriatingly understanding and kind, his tone soft and comforting.
"It's alright, you really don't have to apologize to me. You didn't know and I scared you half to death. It's not your fault, so don't worry about it, okay?"
But how can you not worry about how much you messed up when this is probably the worst first impression you have ever left on someoneâand that includes the time you destroyed someone's side mirror with your own car only to learn a few days later that that someone was your then-boyfriend's very unamused mother when you visited his parents for the first time for a very uncomfortable and icy dinner. (Your mind still likes to torture you with this little incident when you're busy trying to fall asleep, basically dooming the relationship from the very beginning, but in the end it was for the bestâbecause that woman would've shown up wearing a white dress to her son's own wedding. So you're pretty sure you dodged a huge bullet there.)
You risk a glance at Aaron through the gaps between your fingers, the reassuring smile on his face making you feel a little silly, a little overdramatic but it also makes you calm down enough to let your hands drop from your face. Not that you had any chance not to, not when he's looking at you like you couldn't do anything wrong in his eyes, ever.
"I mean it, it was just an accident. Don't blame yourself for that."
He says it with so much conviction that you're almost ready to believe him, but the unhappy frown still clings stubbornly to your face, still mentally berating yourself over this whole situation you actually had very little control over.
That's why you jump almost a foot into the air (the water you're still standing in) when a warm and big, big hand gently squeezes your naked shoulder. Aaron is somehow so much closer than before, looking down at you and steadily holding your gaze while all you can do is dumbly stare back into his eyes, captivated by the sparkle of amused patience in them, by the way his dark eyelashes frame them so perfectly, following his sharp features to the slope of his nose, further down to his lips, wondering just how they would feel pressed against yoursâ
Nopeâ!
That very attractive and very wet man in the pool with you is still your father's colleague and friend, you remind yourself with burning ears, letting out an involuntarily awkward little giggle that ends in a dramatic sigh, your whole body deflating under the comforting weight and warmth of his hand on your skin.
You manage to smile up at him despite your chest still feeling a little too tight with anxiety while butterflies undeniably start to stir in your stomach.
"Thank you for saying that," you murmur defeatedly as you try and fail to tear your gaze from his eyes. "But I'm still sorry about your clothes and watch, and everything else too."
But he simply shakes his head, easily dismissing your attempt to apologize once more, shutting down your offer to pay for the damages that would surely follow before it could even pass your lips.
"It's fine, really. All of these things can be replaced. I'm just glad you didn't hurt yourself."
How can he just say things like these with that stupidly attractive and smooth voice of his while his hand deliberately rubs up and down your arm and not expect you to fall for him right then and there? Because you're pretty sure that's what's happening right now, without you having the slightest of chances to stop it.
But that's a problem you will have to deal with later, you decide, because right now the two of you are still just standing in the water together, and while your attire is completely pool-approved his very much isn't and you probably should get him at least a towel and some dry clothes to change into.
So you softly tell him as much, nodding your head towards the house, "I could get you some of dad's clothes so you can change, I hope that's okay."
"That would be perfect, thank you," Aaron answers, a grateful smile on his lips and you can't help but notice and appreciate the enticing crow's feet framing his eyes while he does.
You give him a timid smile in return, mumbling, "It's the least I can do."
He only gives your elbow a final tender squeeze in reply before pulling his hand back, his fingers lingering on your heated skin for just a moment longer and you can't find it in you to complain about it, not when a pleasant shiver runs down your spine at that.
Crap. You're in so much trouble already.
Reluctantly, you look away from him and turn around, heading to the pool's ladder, your whole arm tingling with the ghost of his touch but you try to ignore it as best as you canâwhich isn't all that much.
You climb up the steps first before holding out your hand for Aaron even if it's not strictly necessary. You're delighted when he takes it anyway without hesitation, your whole hand swallowed in his firm grasp, a discovery that makes your stomach do a funny little flip.
"I hope this at least takes the first place of the most memorable ways you ever met someone for the first time," you joke as Aaron emerges from the pool, finding some humor in this absurd situation as you watch his soaked clothes lose probably half of the pool's content on the planks of the patio, the wet fabric sticking to his body unpleasantly. But you don't miss the quick upwards quirk of his lips despite him looking like a pretty miserable, drowned rat now. You try to cover up your amused snort with a cough, but you know he can't have not caught it.
He however takes it in stride and graciously ignores it, instead starting to take off his watch while saying, "It absolutely does. And I can't say I wasn't wishing to cool off all day today, but that wasn't really what I had in mind. Not that I'm mad at all about this spontaneous opportunity to take a swim with you."
He smiles at you, fully, boldly, and you're probably mistaken when you think you saw just a sliver of shyness shining in his eyes because you're too distracted by the rest of his face that looks somehow even more handsome than before.
"Well, in that case, you're very welcome," you play along easily despite your heart slamming almost painfully against your ribcage. "And what can I say, I just love to leave a lasting first impression."
You're blessed with that charming high-pitched laugh of his again while he lays his watch on the patio table before his hands move to the buttons at the top of his shirtâwhich is not something you should find as enticing as you do.
"You definitely did. I just hope you don't make everyone you meet for the first time fall for you like that."
The words take a moment to fully register in your mind as you're busy admiring his deft fingers working on the first button of the shirt, but when they do something must suddenly take possession of you because your mouth curls into a teasing smile without you really meaning to and you casually hum, "Hm, no. Just you."
Aaron's fingers freeze mid-movement, his gaze so much more intense than just moments before but to your own surprise you don't shy away from it, keeping your eyes locked with his as he carefully utters his next words, his voice just a little rougher.
"That must make me pretty special, then."
You consider his words with a slow tilt of your head, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip to keep the eager smile threatening to overtake your face contained, your heart hammering away in your chest and your head feeling slightly dizzy. The daring and impulsive part currently in control of you makes you step directly into his personal space without hesitation where you can openly admire the small amount of chest hair peeking over the collar of his t-shirt which immediately cancels out the disappointing discovery that even in this heat he's wearing multiple layers.
"It probably does, Mr. Hotchner," you practically purr in reply, your voice almost unrecognizable to your own ears as you bring your hands up to his chest.
Your eyes never stray from his when you nudge his hands away from his shirt and replace them with your own, your fingers shaking visibly as you slowly, deliberately slide another button through its respective hole for him. And he lets you, his lips slightly parted, his gaze so much heavier, so much more heated than before that you have to suppress a full-body shiver.
You know it's not appropriate to do what you're doing right now, not with a man who is easily ten years your senior, who you never met in person before today andâmost importantlyâwho is not only your father's superior but also his friend. And before today you would have never given in to your impulses like that, simply shoving them to the farthest corner of your mind where they would come back to haunt you during sleepless nights, making you wonder what could've been if you had just taken a chance for once in your life.
You don't know why it's different now with Aaron Hotchner of all people, what it is about him that makes you act like this so suddenly, so uncharacteristically bold, but you can't stop yourselfâand to your thrilled delight, it doesn't seem like he wants you to either.
Not when you can clearly see the nice blush dusting the apple of his cheeks pink. Or when you notice the anticipation in his eyes, his tongue absentmindedly peeking past his dry lips to wet them. Or when you catch his pupils dilating as his attention snaps down to a droplet of water shining on your collarbone, his eyes following its path utterly transfixed as it slowly runs down between your breasts, the soft swell of your chest on full display for him thanks to your bikini top hugging you so perfectly.
To your astonishment, his gaze doesn't make you uncomfortable or exposed and you don't shy away from his attentionâquite the opposite. You let yourself revel in it, a pleasant tingling sensation spreading from the very tips of your fingers to the rest of your body, making you feel confident and desired in a way few, if any, people have in the past.
He makes you feel cherished, the (poorly hidden) want in his eyes only increases this feeling.
But most importantlyâhe makes you feel safe.
That's what's so different about him.
So it's not surprising that you're lightheaded in the best way possible when your fingers slowly trail further down his shirt, smugly smirking up at him when he realizes he was caught red-handed ogling his friend's daughter's scarcely clad chest.
You see his Adam's apple work uneasily in his throat as he tilts his head slightly, not being able to meet your eyes anymore, his whole posture suddenly uncomfortable and stiff and the look on his face downright terrified. You find everything about this incredibly endearing and equally entertaining, the way his cheeks are now deeply red and probably burning hot to the touch, the tips of his ears very much in the same condition and his hand flexing by the side of his body as if debating whether physically pushing you away and creating some distance between the two of you would somehow remedy the situation.
But he doesn't, instead his gaze guiltily flickers to meet yours for a split second and then his lips part for the first words of a sincere yet deeply embarrassed, stammered apology. Yes, Aaron Hotchner, the ever-serious, ever-composed, big bad FBI agent who stares down serial killers for a living, who doesn't even flinch when the barrel of a gun is pressed against his head, actually stammers, evidently not used to losing control like this, not used to allow himself to give into temptation, anything that would expose that behind his almost perfect mask is simply a man, a human, with tragically repressed wants and needs and desires.
But you smile up at him, kindly, giddily, because you're really not used to someone like him giving you this kind of attention and you refuse to let yourself feel bad about it now and start to overthink it, so you simply say, "It's okay. I don't mind."
And then, because it's the truth, you add, "Not when it's you."
Your words cause a quick succession of emotions to flash across Aaron's faceâregret, surprise, doubt, reliefâonly to finally settle on something so soft, so gentle, so close to adoration that your first, entirely instinctual reaction is to shrink and hide away from gaze.
But he doesn't let you, holds your gaze steadily and brings his hand up to yours still lightly resting against his chest. His fingers curl around your much smaller palm and he has the audacity to smirk at your very obvious, very telling reaction to this as if your roles weren't reversed just moments before. But then he gently presses your hand against his chest, his hand still covering yours and you immediately forgive him.
Because like this, you can feel the heat of his skin slowly bleed through the wet fabric of his shirt and into your own skin. You feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the low hum forming there when your other hand moves with a mind of its own to rest on his shoulder, anchoring you to him further.
But most importantly, like this, you can clearly feel his heartbeat mirror the almost frantic, thundering pace of your own.
It's as confusing as it is exhilarating, knowing that for some bizarre reason, you and this stranger (because as many times your father has talked about Aaron, you have never met him before today) feel the same magnetic pull towards each other, and without knowing who moved in first you're suddenly breathing the same air, your faces close enough for you to count each individual dark eyelash and admire every single detail and imperfection of his handsome face.
Questions linger unspoken in the small space between youâIs this okay? Should we really be doing this?âbut the small impatient noise escaping you is enough to dissipate them immediately.
He moves in even closer and you let your eyelids flutter shut, your heart stuttering in your chest when you feel his breath fan across your face, feel his lips hesitantly brush against your own, the faint touch enough to send a spark of overwhelming pleasure down your spine, the eruption of butterfly wings in your belly like nothing you ever felt before in your life, before finallyâ
Finallyâ
âthe devastating sound of the front door falling shut echos through the whole house, your father's cheerful voice calling out both your and Aaron's name.
Your eyes snap open in horror, your heartrate spiking alarmingly, and like you were burned you push away from Aaron, desperate to create even the illusion of distance between the two of you. You're lucky you don't fall in the fucking pool again but only because of Aaron's quick reflexes, his arm wrapping around your naked waist and urgently pulling you flush against him, thankfully not losing his footing this time.
Terrified, you stare up at him, both of you frozen in this blatantly incriminating positionâentirely too close, too intimate for two strangers, a daughter and her father's friendâhis palm burning into your naked skin while your dad's footsteps are coming closer, and closer, and closerâ
In a last, desperate attempt to save yourself and Aaron from being discovered like this your tardy fight-or-flight response kicks into gear again, urging you toâalbeit reluctantlyâexit his hold and rush towards the house, fleeing the scene of the crime and leaving poor Aaron to explain what happened to your father.
You don't stop when you run past your dad, only squeaking something unintelligently about getting some dry clothes when his confused voice calls after you, your wet feet almost causing you to slip and fall on the cold and hard marble floor but somehow you make it to the safety of the upper story, making a beeline to the master bedroom's dressing room.
With your heart beating painfully inside your chest, you curl up into a miserable ball of anxiety and regret in the middle of the room, not caring that you're dripping pool water onto the expensive carpeted floor, your shaking hands coming up to cover your face.
What the hell were you thinking? How will you be able to face your fatherâor worse, Aaronâever again?!
You press the heels of your hands hard enough against your eyes that stars and shapes overtake the darkness of your vision, contemplating if staying inside this dressing room for the rest of your life is really that bad of an option.
But you're startled back into action when Aaron's calm but carefully controlled voice followed by your father's boisterous laughter travels up the stairs to you and you pick yourself off the floor before hectically digging through your father's clothes until you find something passable for Aaron to change into.
As you descend the stairs, knees weak and threatening to give out underneath you, your anxiety pressing heavily against your chest, you wonder helplessly how you will survive the rest of this day, how you will ever survive seeing Aaron again after today.
Because this afternoon, while he fell in the pool with you, you fell for Aaron Hotchner.
(And he fell in love with you, too.)

series masterlist || â part 1 â part 2 - part 3 coming soon-ish :3
divider by @/cafekitsune
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner imagine#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic#criminal minds#criminal minds x you#falling for you series
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Sunshine Of Your Love
Part 1

Pairing: Cho Sang-woo x Gi-hun's daughter!Reader
Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Age Gap (Reader is in her early to mid-twenties, Sang-woo is in his mid to late-forties), I will mention warnings in each chapter, but I think in this one there are none so far.
Author's note: I'm still working on Chapter 21 of Your girl, but it might take me a little while to figure it out. Until then, this crossed my mind, based on this request. I love you, guys. đ¤
Divider by @saradika-graphics
"Sunshine Of Your Love" - Cho Sang-woo x Gi-hun's daughter!Reader Masterlist
Cho Sang-woo never considered himself a good person, but there are some lines he isn't willing to cross. He wouldn't ever corrupt someone as trusting and loving as you are. And yet, his feelings for you are getting more and more...complicated.
Cho Sang-woo was many things â a traitor, a liar, sometimes even a coward. But a sleazeball was not one of them.
So, he found himself more than a little troubled, the first time that weird feeling welled up in his chest. Looking back, he had always been a good friend to Seong Gi-hun. During the days of their childhood and their teenage years, he was an honest friend, who more often than not pulled him out of all sorts of complications. He didnât mind it. He didnât throw it in his face, either. Thatâs just not what friends do.
Things went rather smoothly for him, also. He was the darling child after all. Going to university wasnât exactly something everyone from his neighborhood had managed. But he, he had done it. He finished his studies and he became someone.
What never changed though, was his firm politeness. He respected everyone. His elders, his mother, his old friend Gi-hun.
It didnât matter how jealous he got of him at times. Not everyone was sought out for a happy family life. He knew that now.
Whenever he watched Gi-hun interact with his wife, every time he met them somewhere or he visited them for a nice, relaxed dinner, he found himself staring. And dreaming.
What could have been?
The way his wife would lightly scold him or nudge him, laugh at his jokes even though they werenât anything close to funny. The way he got to cradle his little daughter in his arms.
They were fairly young when they had their first and only child. A beautiful little girl, with sparkling eyes and lips twisted in either mischief or kindness. There was no in-between.
The visits, however, became less and less frequent by the time he turned twenty-five. He was close to finishing his studies and his friend, anyhow, seemed caught in his own world. He didnât need him, right? He had his own perfection created around him, a vision of tranquility and peace.
Until the divorce came.
Sang-woo wasnât exactly happy about it. It was more a quiet kind of relief. And whenever he caught himself having that feeling, he immediately felt awful afterwards. Like he was the worldâs greatest scum. Which he, kind of, was. He knew that. He admitted it to himself. And he hated himself, just the same.
Of course he was there for Gi-hun. He squeezed his shoulder and assured him, heâd get them back. Heâd lend him money every so often. Gi-hun even spent quite some time crashing on his couch, before eventually he moved back in with his mother.
Anything to stop the guilt. Anything.
He loved his friend. And he hated himself, because he reveled in his misery.
What kind of friend would do that?
These thoughts were the first of the kind that showed him that he wasnât really a good person.
There were things he did. He tried to donate money whenever he could, he took care of his mother and overall everything of which he thought a decent man should do.
But it wasnât enough, was it?
Years passed, almost two decades even, but his guilt stayed firmly in place. With every mean, bad, deranged thought he had, he felt worse. Something was wrong with him. It had to be. He was a man in his prime, he was successful, he wasnât bad-looking â So, why was he still alone?
He was charming. Every woman he met blinked at him with the same look, mercilessly flirting with him. He could tell when they did, when they swung their hips and smiled over something not quite funny he said.
So, what exactly was stopping him from ever flirting back?
There had been a few embarrassing attempts of course. Returning a smile, a lingering touch. Nothing ever felt right to him, though.
He had relations, physically so. Every now and then and whenever he felt like it. But there wasnât much to say about that. He didnât speak with these women, because they all had the same thing in mind. Nothing deep, nothing real, nothing complicated.
It was enough to keep him satisfied for a while. But at some point into his career â the point when everything went to shit, most likely â he wanted more. The release he found did nothing to feed his soul, the encounters not more than a mere exchange of spit and sweat.
It didnât feel right. He wanted someone to laugh at his jokes. To dab his chin with a napkin, when he was entirely oblivious to the sauce on it and kept making a fool of himself. He wanted them to lean on him, to trust him. He wanted to take care of them. Make someone smile.
Make someone whole.
And for them to make him whole again.
It wasnât until nineteen years after he finished his studies that he had this chilling encounter. It had been a long day at work, doing God-knows-what, because he was slowly losing count. His life was spiraling upside down and every day he made decisions which might not only cost him his career, but maybe even his life. His integrity was as good as gone.
He wanted nothing more than to see his mother. Something about being close to her, made him feel grounded. She was his conscience in a way. Whenever he felt like he was the worst human alive, she had this way of making him feel like he wasnât. The kindness in her eyes didnât vanish, not for him, not for anyone else. The way she spoke of him with such fondness and pride made him equally sad as it made him feel hopeful.
Maybe there was something good to him. Something useful, something kind.
He made his way through the light drizzle. The clouds had made a way of being thick and unyielding, matching his state of mind quite well. He didnât mind the darkness, he didnât even mind the cold. He simply pushed his hands deeper into his pockets and hid his face deep in the collar of his coat.
The streets were nearly empty, there wasnât much going on. Most people preferred warmth and security. He, for one, felt safe in the shadows. Sometimes he felt like he was no more than a shadow himself. It was an odd thought to have, but it summed his entire being up quite well. No one really looked twice at him â at least not, when they didnât think they could get some gain out of him. But what could he possibly give anyone?
He was polite, yes. Kind, so it seemed. But his mind was a dark place, tormented by years of guilt-ridden thoughts and loneliness.
His head perked up when, instead of only his motherâs humming and her polite squabble, he heard laughter. Hearty, melodic laughter. Was that his mother?
His mother had always been a rather lovely person to be around. He hadnât ever met anyone who didnât immediately adore her quick wit and warm smile. She was everything that he wasnât.
But still, when he saw the silhouette of someone else beside her behind the counter, babbling out silly jokes, he paused for a moment. His mother worked alone, it had always been like this. She was as diligent as anyone could be, especially for her age. He felt relieved though, maybe she had finally taken his words to heart and hired someone to help her out. Not always. Just a few hours every week.
He approached her little shop with slow, measured steps and a slow smile formed on his face.
âEomma?â
The elderly woman stilled in her movement, though her chest still heaved in heavy amusement and she had a hard time catching her breath. She spun around and her eyes lit up in affection and warmth.
âSang-woo-ya, adeul.â She circled the counter within seconds and hugged him in a way that knocked the air out of his lungs. He gently wrapped his arms around her and his smile widened a fraction.
âMother.â He murmured. âForgive me. Itâs been a while.â
She pulled back and shot him a look that was half teasing, half scolding. âQuite a while!â She then gave his shoulder a gentle nudge and turned to the other person behind the counter.
âAga-ya, Iâm sure you must remember my son.â
He followed her gaze and then suddenlyâŚ
You.
His eyes widened impossibly behind his glasses, when he caught sight of you. You were no longer the cheeky little brat he had gifted kilograms of sweets. This was impossible. It was untrue.
He recognized your features â your eyes and the way they shone with a little twinkle of mischief, but there was something else, something far bigger.
Warmth. Kindness.
The warmth radiating off of you was nearly enough to make him stare. You were beautiful, but that was no surprise. It had been years since he had last seen you, but even then he knew, youâd be quite the sight once you grew up. And that you had.
He had never, never looked at you with anything but something akin to fatherly admiration â and the small amount of guilt and jealousy that always lingered in his mind, because he desired what Gi-hun had. A family. A purpose. A life.
Even in that moment he didnât have any lewd thoughts, God forbid. You were just beautiful.
Painfully much so.
âMy God-â
âSamchon!â
The way you rushed forward and hugged him like a storm cloud was almost enough to knock him over. He couldnât help but laugh, as he wrapped his arms around you and held you just as tightly. The sweet scent of shampoo and perfume filled his nostrils, combined with the faint hint of fish of course. He didnât mind the fish. He never had.
âWhat on Earth?â He murmured. âWhy arenât you in the U.S.?â
When you pulled back and looked up at him with those shiny eyes and that wide grin, he felt something odd in his chest. Something fiercely protective.
âI was.â You responded in the sweetest voice. âMy mother and step-father are still there. Didnât Appa tell you? Iâm going to SNU.â
His eyes widened even more and he needed a moment to understand the meaning behind your words. âBut werenât you going to Columbia?â
The softness in your smile nearly made him melt. âThatâs just not where I belong.â
He stared at you for a moment longer, completely dumbfounded, when his motherâs voice brought him back to reality.
âI know you just came, but Iâm sure thereâs a storm coming up. Would you take her home?â
He didnât hesitate to nod. âOf course. But what about you?â
She shook her head. âI need to finish a few things.â
Sang-woo frowned and tilted his head to the side. âNo oneâs buying anything when thereâs a storm outside anyway.â
She tilted her chin up, almost challengingly. âAm I the parent or you?â
That made a fond smile cross his lips. âAt least call me when youâre done. Iâll take you home.â
She returned the smile and kissed his cheek. âGo, go! And you â take this for your father and grandmother.â
When his mother handed you a bag with likely fish inside and you took it from her with a grateful nod, he was suddenly reminded that you were still there, still clinging to his one arm like a trusting child.
He watched as you gave his mother a kiss on the cheek and the way she watched you with a fondness which was normally spared for only him â and probably the grandchildren sheâd most likely never have.
You slipped into your coat and grasped an umbrella from under the counter. He took it from you and opened it, covering you both with ease.
âWhereâd you park?â You called out against the growing storm.
âJust down there.â He pointed to the parking lot. His car was the only one there left. He felt a pang of worry for his mother, but he knew how stubborn she was. He trusted her to call him at least.
You clung to him tightly, troubled to hide yourself away under the umbrella, while the small bag with fish swung around in the wind.
He shot you a concerned glance and made sure to take up as little space as possible. Half his face was getting soaked by the rain, but he didnât mind, as long as it meant you wouldnât catch a cold. A few moments later you thankfully got to his car. He unlocked it and held the door open for you, watching as you slid inside with little grace. You were shaking like a leaf and he made quick progress, closing the umbrella and swinging himself behind the steering wheel. He quickly turned the engine on and put the heater on high.
âWhat a plague.â You murmured as you held your hands up against the warmth.
He regarded you with a warm smile, before he pulled off his glasses and tried to wipe them clean.
You looked up and your face twisted in a mixture of surprise and concern. âYouâre wet.â
That made him laugh. âWell, yes.â
Your smirk was contagious. âDonât be such a smarty-pants, will you?â
âSmarty-pants? Did you learn that in New York?â He raised his brows and shot you a mock-scolding look. The way your smile softened made his heart soften as well. âI still canât believe youâre back. So, youâre staying with your father?â
When you nodded, he released a soft sigh.
âWhat, he didnât tell you?â
He regarded you with a soft look, before he put his glasses back on. âNot, because he wouldnât care. We justâŚI havenât spoken to him in a while.â
A look of concern crossed your face, while you watched him pull out of the parking lot. âBut youâre still friends?â
âYes, darling girl. Weâre still friends.â
With a soft sigh, you sank back against the seat and grasped the bag in your hands softly.
âSo, SNU.â He kept his gaze firmly locked onto the street. He barely even saw anything through the heavy rain. âWhat caused that? You always said Columbia is your dream.â
âI thought it was. But the States areâŚdifferent.â You looked at his profile while you spoke in a softer tone. âThe people are different. Their values and beliefs. I just felt like I was losing myself there. My roots. I barely even speak Korean anymore.â
He smirked almost imperceptibly. âYes, I can hear that.â
You laughed at that. âEveryone always says youâre such a sweetheart, but I can see the menace in you.â
He smiled at your confidence. He had always admired it. Even as a little girl, you had been no less than a Sheriff, demanding respect.
âYou didnât change much.â
You shrugged. âI got older.â
He nearly rolled his eyes, but decided against it. Instead he kept his tone casual and polite. How could he banter with you, when he just now saw you again? âHow old are you now? Like twenty-three?â
You nodded. âOn the dot.â
He shot you a soft smile. âSo, how have you been?â
âExhausted, mostly. Itâs aâŚdemanding country. And you?â
You had never been shy. He loved that.
âDemanding?â
You nodded. âBut isnât every country?â
He shrugged and kept his eyes focused on the street, trying to see something through the haze of rain and darkness. He adjusted his slippery glasses every now and then, before he quickly brought both hands back to the steering wheel. âYouâre too clever for your own good.â
âDoes that surprise you?â
His brows shot up and he couldnât hold back a huff of laughter. âYouâre insufferable. You were always a brat, but it got far worse, now that youâre Miss America.â
You smiled a gentle smile. âI really missed you.â
You said it with such ease. With such trust. It made his heart ache. Here he was, withholding money and committing all kinds of crimes, while you looked at him with nothing short of warmth in your eyes. He didnât hesitate to touch your hand, a brief and natural brush of your hands. It didnât make him feel anything else butâŚhome.
âI missed you, too. Your father was going insane without you.â
He heard the wistful sorrow in your voice when you sighed. âI hope you took good care of him.â
That made his brows rise in surprise and something else. Something softer. âWell, IâŚâ But before he could come up with a response, you continued.
âHeâs sillier than ever before.â You spoke with painful love and admiration in your quiet, smiling voice. âBut I can see that heâs sad. Heartbroken even. IâŚI didnât mean to hurt him like that.â
His forehead creased into a frown and he took his gaze off the street in front of you, to regard you with a careful look. âIt wasnât your choice to leave. He knows that. He knows that you would have stayed if you could have. But you were just a child.â
You nodded. âBut still. He needed me. And I wasnât there.â
He slowly returned his gaze to the road. âYou needed him just as much.â He murmured.
After a long, heavy silence, you cleared your throat and glanced at him with the same, soft smile that so-often grazed your lips. âIâve been talking about myself all the time. What about you? My father said your business has been going greater than ever. Is that true?â
A tight knot formed in his stomach as he tried to think of a response. Lying to you felt like an impossible deed. Not because you would have seen through it, but because you were simply so trusting â and he didnât want to take advantage of that. You viewed him as nothing but good, as you did everyoneâŚwhen he was so incredibly far from it.
âUps and downs here and there, but all in all itâs a steady bet.â He murmured.
âIâm glad.â After a beat, you added: âAnd how have you been aside from that?â
He exhaled slowly through his nose, thinking about it. The last time someone asked how he was and actually meant it, was so long it the past, it might as well have been a dream.
âIâm good. Iâm good, darling girl. Thank you.â
The way your brows crinkled showed your concern and how you saw through his weak lie. But you couldnât just quite accuse him of lying, right?
âIâm glad.â You said again, softer this time, all the while you never took your eyes off him. âYou deserve to be happy.â
The words were so simple and yet they made him feel as though someone had just kicked him right in the chest. His grip tightened ever so slightly on the steering wheel. âYouâre always so kind.â He said quietly. âToo kind.â
You frowned in response. âThereâs a thing such as too kind?â
He smiled and shot you a soft look, relaxing his grip again. You were so stubborn, so willful, so much trouble at times and yet â
You were good. Undeniable. An undying truth. You were good.
Too good for him or anyone else for that matter. Even too good for your own father. The protectiveness he felt didnât come quiet and gentle, it was an angry force that dragged him into the abyss of his own thoughts.
He had made so many mistakes in his life. But maybe he could make up for some of them if only he helped you to keep your light.
Without a word, he pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine. He then turned to you with a soft, thoughtful look.
âDo you still like that one band so much?â
Your eyes lit up. âArctic Monkeys? Oh, yes. I even saw them live at one point.â
His expression softened. He then reached out a hand and fumbled for something in the glove compartment of his car.
âAh. Here it is.â He pulled out the CD cover and handed it to you. âI bought this for you. The songs are probably too old for your liking now, but well.â
Your fingers closed around the sleeve with a hesitation that was most uncommon in you. Your gaze fixed on the dark grey cover of the band you had adored for what was most of your life.
âYou had this in here all this time?â You asked quietly, your eyes lighting up in a way that made his breath catch in his throat. Where did all this warmth come from? And how was it so contagious?
He smiled and shrugged. âItâs not that big of a deal. It was supposed to be a gift for your departure, but I didnât make it in time.â
But your expression didnât waver. Your gaze flicked from him to the cover and back, your eyes wide in wonder. Just as though no one had ever done anything comparable for you.
That was impossible. Everyone loved you. You were everyoneâs sunshine. So, why did this seem like such a great gesture to you?
He observed you quietly, trying to gauge your reaction.
After a moment, a smile tugged at your lips, warm and bright.
âThank you, Samchon. That means⌠so much to me.â
He returned the smile.
âCome on. I should get you inside. I bet your father is getting worried already.â
Before he could open the door though, you lunged at him like you had before, wrapping your arms around his neck and tilting your head, resting your cheek on his shoulder. He was caught off-guard for a moment, but he quickly caught himself and wrapped his arms around you again. It felt natural to him. It was natural.
And still it felt as though something had changed, but he couldnât quite put a finger on it.
After what felt like half a minute, you finally pulled back, the same warm smile on your face and the CD cover pressed against your chest tightly.
âI will think of you when I listen to this.â
It was such a simple thing to say, an innocent phrase like every word that left your mouth.
And yet, it made him feel a certain way â his chest tightened and his fingers curled into a fist, as though he was stopping himself from saying something awkward, as he so often did, when he didnât keep track.
You wouldnât mind though.
You never did.
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The Shadows That Nurture 2
Hii! Here is the second chapter. I will post the chapters when the next one is either 50% or 90-100% ready, based on how long it has been. Hope you enjoy!
previous<< Chapter 2 >>next
Breakfast became awkward as soon as you shyly walked in, hunger beating the desire to stay hidden in your room- in hindsight, maybe you should have. They were chatting so eagerly, laughing. You wanted that too but as soon as you peeked through the door the noise stopped. It was like the first day of kindergarten. Lonely, your palms were sweating with anxiety, and- and you missed your mom.
You tried introducing yourself to Richard, but you were met with a hum and one singular glance, no interest from the older boy, your supposed brother. Bruce- youâd rather him not look at you at all. It was like he was trying to read your mind and dissect it.
By the time you had it in you to speak again, to try and create some bonds, it seemed like they couldnât get away fast enough. They both looked so tired. Youâd think they would have taken their time. Your eyes meet Alfredâs icy blues once the room is empty.
âDo they hate me?... Did I do something wrong?â Alfredâs whole body flinched at the question, unseen by the untrained eye. The old man felt pity, a bit of guilt for the way he, himself, acted. But the mask of indifference heâs been trained for years to keep took its place once more.
With a gentle hand, he did his best to soothe her worries. Bruce could never hate a kid, Alfred was sure⌠He hoped he was. Alfred shook his head- no, he shouldnât doubt his child- Master Bruce. He shouldnât doubt Master Bruce like that. He knows better. The old man cleared his throat. âHere, young miss. Master Bruce wanted you to have this. Just like Master Dick has.â His explanation of what and how to use the little black card and the modern phone came just as quickly as his try at making connections between the two kids.
âGiving a kid unsupervised access to so much money and the internet sounds like a bad idea.â Your mumbling made Alfredâs lip twitch. It was and he said as much, but it was what Master Bruce wanted, and what he wanted he got⌠usually.
And with that, Alfred left too. You understood why he left; he seemed to be the only employee. Taking care of such a big house all on your own must take all day, and to have to cook as well⌠Poor man, Bruce mustnât like him very much either. He was old, ancient to your five-year-old self, maybe you could help with something.
After finishing your meal, you take the dishes and carefully put them in the sink. You wanted to wash them but sadly, the counter was taller than you. Instead, you focused on cleaning the table and pushing the chairs back into their place.
Bruce must have gone to work, and Richard to school. Your brows furrowed and your lips stuck out in a pout. You were supposed to go to kindergarten. Neither of the adults seemed worried about that, and you didnât know how to get there either, so it must be a deliberate choice. Maybe it was closed. Or maybe they forgot.
Your feet carried you across the manor, from the withered garden to the many floors of the cold house, relying on the whispers from the shadows to know what door you can open, and which way you should go. They were leading you in a specific direction, you knew, but what else could you do but listen? Not like you had anything else to do or anywhere to be.
You stopped as soon as the shadows stopped whispering. The overlapping murmuring going silent made the room feel colder, and yet your amazement at the object before your eyes filled you with the warmth and hope you needed to survive another day. It was a simple thing, a painting.
A couple, a woman sitting on a chair and a man standing tall beside her. The position on any other would seem imposing, controlling even, but the hand on her shoulder wasnât gripping her. It was a tender caress of care that reflected in the manâs face as a gentle smile and his eyes fixated on the woman, his wife. The painter did a great job of portraying the love and softness the man held for his beloved, as they did for the warmth in her smile and mischievously happy gleam in her eyes.
She was beautiful, full of life. Her dress was silky white. Must have been painted on the day of their wedding. She was the perfect picture of elegance as beautiful, shining pearls adorned her neck and the bottom of her dress, and yet⌠Her eyes seemed as sad as they were happy. She probably missed her mami too. You couldnât imagine marrying someone and leaving your mom, but then again, youâre young and idealistic, dreaming of things that cannot be anymore.
You sat there for what felt like hours, taking in every little detail you could. You wanted to do this, to paint, to draw, to have your art hung for generations to see. Maybe you could fix the garden as well. Make it a beautiful background for your art, and a little something to make you feel useful. Now⌠how do you get back to your room?
The shadows seemed to giggle at how your demeanor soured once you realized how lost you actually were. Nevertheless, once they had their fun, they led you back to where you needed to be, gently nudging your tired little self back into the walls of your room. All that walking exhausted you so much, a nap was long overdue- you were sure theyâd wake you up for lunch or dinner.
They never did. You woke up at one in the morning, more tired than when you went to sleep, and ten times hungrier and colder. Maybe they didnât have dinner? The trash in the bin and half-chopped veggies in the fridge told a different story. It seems youâll have to fend for yourself once more.
Tag List: @bat1212
#dc crossover#dc x invincible#yandere batfam#yandere batfam x neglected reader#yandere invincible#invincible crossover#female!reader#yandere batfam x reader#yandere batfamily
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Can I ask for claggor x a piltover reader? She was raised in piltover and is very smart but was never ignorant to the condition of zaun and always tried her best to advocate and help the suffering people. I can imagine she would have a strong sense of guilt for loving claggor because she doesn't really understand the struggles he went through but will always try to help. <33 thank youuuu
Of course, I think I made this a little more dramatic than I meant tođ but I hope this is good!
Arcane Imagines- Claggor
Mysterious

[arcane] [main page]
Prompt: In which reader is from Piltover and makes a friend in Zaun. Feeling guilty for liking him since she doesn't understand his struggles.
My feet achingly moved seemingly before me. My back hurt as I carried a box full of stuff from Piltover to give to a friend in the undercity.
When I was younger I was so fascinated by the people of Zaun. About the difficulties theyâve been through. My mother was always bitter about them. Going on tangents about how the people from the undercity should be more grateful since everything is better now. And whenever she does that I have to remind her of their struggles to get to this wonderful position theyâve been creating for themselves. Supporting them only pisses her off further than before. She asks what about Piltoverâs struggles which is never the point of my argument.Â
Weâre privileged enough to never know what itâs like going without food, running water and a roof being over our heads. Most of Zaun could or still to this day can not say the same. Itâs something Iâve written about in school essays, joining groups to learn more about the undercity.Â
As a younger teen I snuck into Zaun, wanting to understand them better, know them rather than read about their history. Hear it from the people themselves. I wonât truly ever know their struggles but I still wish to help them. Advocate for their history and their growth as a community. Help them be one with Piltover eventually without there being discourse of if they deserve it.Â
Everyone deserves happiness, love, and a life without ridiculous danger. They deserve peace as much as the next person.
I was reckless when going to Zaun. Sneaking out of my house as a teen and somehow to the undercity without being caught will forever blow my mind. The reason I kept doing it though was after I sat down in this bar. Itâs called The Last Drop. I just needed a place to rest after walking for miles.Â
Talking with the people there. Not really a scene a young teenager should be in but I didnât care. I just wanted to listen to their stories. And they always enjoyed having me around. Seeing me as a niece of some sort. Hearing the first one made me want to hear more. Hence why I kept coming back. And more recently there's a new reason.
I met a new friend. His name I still donât know. He never properly introduced himself to me. Not by his birth given name but by the first letter. He wanted me to guess.Â
Itâs been 3 months and he has yet to tell me what it is. Or in his words I didn't guess good enough.
I guess his father was the owner, Vander is his name. Iâve met him a few times but I never sat up at the actual bar. Just in a corner keeping to myself before I went to adventure out into Zaun after hearing random stories.
When I met C he had started working more hours at the bar to help out since it was getting busier and busier after some time with people from the Uppercity decided the place was a hit. I guess he worked earlier shifts so thatâs why we never crossed paths when I first started going there.Â
C and I hit it off slowly in the beginning. Â
It was a rough start since we both had different upcomings. I didnât know what it was like to have to get my hands dirty and work for things I want or need. Iâve always just⌠had it.Â
Talking about Câs childhood and things he went through as I had nothing bad to say except for the fact that my mother is a witch of a woman. It made me realize how weird I am for being so interested in others' lives. It made me realize I donât have a life of my own. I want to fix people who donât need to be fixed. Theyâre perfect the way they are, no matter what they went through. They donât need me to stick up for them. I also figured out that Iâm falling for a friend, who again⌠I donât know the name of and we will never share a similar story. He deserves someone who understands the same livelihood he knows. Someone who can appreciate things more than I ever could.
â[Name]!â A voice shouts, shaking me from my thoughts. âC!â I grin, shimmying the box in my hands. âIs this everything?â He takes it from me with furrowed eyebrows, looking it over. âMhm, every single thing you asked for.â I place my hands on the back of my hips, stretching to crack my back. Letting out a small sigh of relief afterwards.Â
âYou alright?â He asks with a chuckle, leading me into his apartment that he and his brother share. âYeah, I definitely got my exercise in for the day.â I half-heartedly joke, shutting the door behind us and he places the box down on the counter. âWhat is the food for, exactly?â
When he first requested the stuff from me, he told me it was for an experiment. Not really saying much after that. A few foods and then things you can really only get in Topside.Â
âTo eat.â He grabs an apple and bites into it. My shoulders fall, not expecting that answer. For some reason I thought it was going to be something cooler. âOh.â I let out a breathy laugh. âI was hungry when I was putting in that request.â He rubs his stomach sadly.Â
I shake my head with a smile. âItâs okay. So can I know what this project is now?â I hop up on the barstool in his kitchen. âItâs a secret.â He says briefly, putting the food away in his counters. I frown. âDang, keeping another thing from me, C?â I tilt my head.Â
âGotta keep you on your toes, by being a mysterious, interesting man. Donât want you getting sick of me.â He quipped, now giving me his full attention after placing the box on the ground. I glanced down at it then back to him. âIâll always find you interesting. Maybe even more if you just tell me your name.â I pout.
Have I mentioned that I donât know his name? No? Yeah, donât know it.Â
âSoon.â He reaches over and messes up my hair. I smack his hand away. Attempting to fix what he did. âI hope so.â I cross my arms.Â
âI wish you could guess it. You didnât even try hard enough.â He exclaims, my jaw drops at his words. âI canât think of anything else! It has to be some sort of crazy unique name!â I utter, throwing my hands in the air. He lets out a belly laugh, âItâs not super unique.â He shrugs his shoulders.Â
âWhatever.â I roll my eyes, jokingly annoyed. âI told you my name.â I murmur. âThatâs because youâre not mysterious like me.â He purses out his lips, doing a little peace sign. âI know almost everything else about you. You are not mysterious.â I point a finger at his chest. âReally? Whatâs my favorite color?âÂ
âYou tell people itâs blue but itâs actually yellow. Like dandelion yellow.â I raise my brows, making a face that expresses that he should try me. âOkay, pssh, lucky guess. Favorite food?âÂ
âHalibut, but only when itâs fried because youâre weird.â I tease, his eyes seem to widen at my words. âSee, not so mysterious, huh?â I cross my arms. âTwo things. Thatâs all you answered.â He walks away over to the living room. Plopping down on the couch. I stand up, rushing over to him. Bouncing on the cushion beside him. My hands holding his shoulder as I shake him. âThen ask more questions. I have the answers~â I sang out, leaning back.Â
âFine, how old am I?â He raises a brow. I put a finger on my chin, pretending like I was thinking. â21.â I simply say. âOkay, I never told you that. Howâd you get that?â He scrunches his nose in confusement. I laugh. âHonestly I truly guessed that time. Iâm 21 and I always figured we were the same age.â I snicker.Â
âWow, okay. Next question, how many siblings do I have?â I think back to conversations weâve had or the time I bumped into his brother Mylo. He always talks about a girl named Powder. I want to say thereâs one more though. I just canât rememberâŚ
â... three?â I estimate. âOr two.â I perk up my posture. âHm, itâs three. You really do listen.â He hums out. âYeah, itâs Mylo, Powder and Iâm sorry but I donât think I ever got the last oneâs name.â I press my lips together, trying to rack it in my head. âViolet. She passed away when we were younger.â He sighs, I look at him through my eyelashes not wanting to make full eye contact as my heart drops..Â
âIâm sorry.â I whisper. âItâs alright, [Name]. You didnât know.â He gives me a smile. It goes silent between the both of us. âUm⌠can I ask how? If not I totally understand. I donât want to push that topic.â I shake my hands at the thought of forcing him to say something he wasnât comfortable with.
âWe were doing a stupid thing in Piltover. Sneaking into someoneâs house. Just trying to get a few things for our dad. Extra money in his pocket. Something exploded. The impact unfortunately killed Vi.â He seems spaced out as he tells the story. I reach out and grab his hand.
I remember when that incident happened. It was all anyone talked about for a while. An undercity child passes away in an explosion after breaking into a scientistâs home. My mom⌠was an ass about the situation.Â
âAny more questions?â I make an effort to switch the conversation so he doesnât get upset due to my questioning of his sister's death like the dumb idiot that I am.
He looks down at my hand that was on top of his. âClaggor.â He suddenly says. I scrunch my eyebrows together. âClaggor?â I question, was that something I had to answer? âMy name.â He mutters out.Â
My mouth goes into the shape of an 'o.' Claggor... An interesting name for an interesting man like him.
âHm⌠cute. It fits you.â I squeeze his hand before letting go. I didnât even notice the dusty rose color across his cheeks. He mutters out a small thanks before we continue the conversation of me knowing certain things about him.
The entire time I think back to his sister, my chest aching. They were only kids trying to help their father. Not knowing that one of them wasnât going to make it back home. How devastating.Â
âYou okay, [Name]?â He sits up, turning his body to face me. I fake a smile, waving him off. âYeah, yeah Iâm fine. Just thinking. Sorry.â How am I supposed to be his friend if I carry guilt that has nothing to do with me? How can I like him and not be able to understand him? Itâs idiotic looking. It makes me look selfish, turning other people's problems into my own. âThinking about?âÂ
âYour name. How I never guessed it.â I force out a chuckle that sounds like a high pitched animal making me wince in embarrassment afterwards. âAre you sure youâre okay?â He asks me again.Â
âIâm fine, Claggor.â His name rolls off my tongue easily. Like it was meant to be said from my lips.
âI remembered I have somewhere I need to be. My mom will kill me if Iâm late. See you later?â I ask him, blinking tears away as I abruptly get up. âUm, yeah. Tomorrow?â He gets up with me, rubbing the back of his neck. âAh, I canât. Family thing.â I lied. âOh, maybe the next night? Mylo wants me to go to this party where his crush is djing. I do not want to go.â He laughs, walking me to his front door. My stomach flips, not knowing how to respond. âMaybe, Iâll let you know the day of.â I swallow down the lump in my throat. âOkay, okay. I donât mean to cling. I just like spending time with you.â He smiles softly. I avoid eye contact. âMe too, Claggor.â I whisper before pulling him into an embrace.Â
He lets out a small yelp of surprise before his hands slowly snake around my waist. âYouâre a good friend, [Name].â He mumbles into my shoulder. Tears begin to threaten my eyes once again. âYouâre a better one.â I pat his back before letting go. âSee you.â I curtly wave before leaving.Â
Man, Iâm an idiot.Â
Itâs the day of the party, I havenât left my bed since I came home after leaving Claggorâs house. My head racing with a million thoughts about how selfish and ridiculous I am. Cringing at all the conversations Iâve had with my friends about the Undercity. How incredibly obnoxious it always sounded.Â
How strange I look just being this upset about everything. I wonder if Claggor thought the same about me. How strange it was that a girl was so wrapped up into his struggles. I would never want to tell him that either because Iâm overthinking. I know I am.Â
Heâs my friend. He would tell me if I was being over the top.
Right?Â
Right.
Stop it brain.Â
A knock at my door echoes in my room. âYes?â I call out, not bothering to get up. The door creaks open. â[Name] thereâs someone here to see you.â A house worker tells me. I sit up, tilting my head confused on who would be here. âUm, tell them Iâll be right down.â I say, climbing out of bed. âYes, maâam.â
I grab my robe from my vanity, throwing it on over my pajamas. I slip my feet into my house slippers. I look like a mess but I don't care. Itâs probably just a school mate to ask about some homework we have.Â
I exit my room, heading down the stairs. I see Claggor and my body freezes in place. Staring down at him. Shit. I look like a mess! And that is not a school mate.Â
He was looking around my home before his eyes locked with mine. His face erupts into a smile. âJust wake up or something?â He teases and my face flushes in response. âUh- yeah, slept in.â I awkwardly chuckle, walking towards him. âHowâd you know my address?â I asked him. âAlso, why are you here?âÂ
âWell, first I bumped into one of your friends I met before. She told me you lived here. Second ouch, I can just leave if you want me to.â He points to the front door and I roll my eyes. âSorry, sorry. I was just wondering, I was gonna come to you.â I cross my arms, and when I do his eyes flicker down to what Iâm wearing.
Suddenly Iâm extremely aware of how I look. My hair a mess, face puffy, and wearing a fancy robe with slippers. Weird combination.Â
âI felt like when you left yesterday it was a bit⌠off? You seemed like you were about to cry so I thought Iâd come here and maybe talk to you about that.â He fidgets with his hands, I observe his demeanor. He seemed extremely anxious. âOh, I told you I was fine. Mightâve had something in my eye.â I shrug lying straight out of my teeth.Â
âYou know how I said you are not mysterious like me?â He asks. âVaguely.â I smile but not understanding why heâs saying that. âItâs because you arenât a mystery at all. Maybe Iâm not either since you seem to know quite a bit about me. Anyways, not the point.â He lets out a heavy breath. âYou donât hide your emotions well. Youâre an open book just by looking at you.â He chuckles and I tense up, feeling a little offended. He notices and sighs.
âWhat I mean is, when I first met you I knew you were a very empathetic person. Your emotions are what drives you to be who you are. I really enjoy that about you. I never thought someone could cry over a bug they killed until I met you.â He laughs at the memory of when we were hanging out one day at the bar and a bug was on the floor by my foot. I stomped on it and immediately felt bad. Thinking about the fact that it couldâve had a family.Â
âYou care so deeply for people youâve never met. Wanting them to succeed even if it means you are risking your own happiness to do so.â He says softer than all his other words. âI hope you know that you have never upset me by asking your questions.â His eyes find mine and I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out. He read me like a book. He practically studied me. I donât even know how to respond.Â
âI know thatâs why you got upset. My sister passing away. I donât mind that you asked. It happened as unfortunate as it is. You didnât know and you wanted to. Because you care.â He places a hand on my shoulder. I look down at his arm then back to his face. âPlease donât feel bad for caring.âÂ
My eyes begin to water and I pull him into a hug. âI donât deserve your friendship.â I mumble into his chest. âI think you do.â He disagrees.Â
âI like you, Claggor.â I told him. âLike a lot. I care for you more than anyone else Iâve ever met. Iâm scared that I canât be what you need. I want to be. Everything and more.â I confess, pulling away from him. âDid you know that? Was I not hiding that emotion well either?â I try to uplift the mood.Â
âI didnât have a clue actually.â He grins. âI like you as well. Like a lot. You are everything I need and more. I promise you that.â He pulls me back into his arms, looking down at me as I look up at him.Â
He closes the distance between us, his lips landing on mine. It was a short, soft kiss but it was something I never felt before. Shivers sent down my spine. I flutter my eyelids open, both of us smiling ear to ear like giddy little kids. Taking in the moment for a few seconds.
âDoes that mean youâre going to join me at this party that Iâm soooo excited about?â He sarcastically asks and I giggle in response. âI guess so. I definitely need to clean myself up first though.â I motion to my hot mess of a state that Iâm in. âI think you look beautiful in this. Donât even need to worry about changing.â He jokes and I lightly hit his arm.Â
âWhat a liar.â I fold my arms. âHm, maybe a little. Want me to come back to pick you up?âÂ
âYou could hang out in my room while I get ready. Maybe choose my outfit?â I propose and his eyes light up. âYeah, letâs go.â He happily responds.Â
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What's hidden from you?



Pile 1 - Pile 2 - Pile 3
Remember, this is a general reading and it may not resonate for everyone or completely. Tarot is a tool to help guide but you are responsible for your actions and life, you choose your path.
Tips!
|Pile 1
Tarot: Temperance, Page of Wands, Ten of Pentacles (sideways), Seven of Cups, Knight of Cups, The World, Eight of Swords (reversed), Four of Swords, Five of Swords, Nine of Wands, Queen of Swords (bottom of the deck)
Advice: III - Growth
Within your arsenal of hobbies or interests, you hold the key to your own success. There is an understandable problem of being the jack of all trades here, pouring water into multiple different cups a little at a time. You may also be good at each one of these interests. And while I donât think that this is inherently a bad thing, you are spreading yourself too thin and hindering your success. Picking one of these interests to completely invest yourself into to try to build fiscal reward doesnât mean you have to give up all your other interests. You may have to work around a new schedule. Also, this interest may need to be seen by the world. There is a feeling of building courage, but as soon as you have to dive in and expose your interest, you kinda chicken out. This comes from the care you have for your interest, itâs vulnerable exposing something so near and dear to your heart. The fear of not being accepted and loved. What if your vulnerability isnât enough? You probably already know of this fear. But must I say, you are doing a terrible disservice to yourself for giving so much power to other people to the point that it controls your life. As my sister says, âwe are literally an ant fart in the universe,â and you care about other peopleâs (negative) opinions? Crazyyyy. You spend all this time creating, forming something purely out of thin air⌠A past art professor once said, âwhat you make has never existed before.â
A critique isnât excluded because they arenât negative â negative âcritiquesâ are usually peopleâs hate. You take critiques and decide whether you use them or not. A lot of my past professorsâ advice is coming out, so you may be creative. But everything is inherently creative, sciences and arts work together simultaneously. Besides that point, I will say that this group may be a lot harder on themselves. I feel as though I am giving advice to a younger sibling. Do not beat yourself up over letting the opinion of yourself be dictated by other people. Youâre just doing more damage to yourself. You shouldnât feel bad for wanting to be loved and accepted. But, if it is at the expense of your own success.
OrâŚIs it a fear of succeeding? Your advice here is a card that talks about lack but also having an overabundance of something to the point of it becoming a cancer, a parasite. This could be warning you of burn out. You need to create a balance when it comes to managing that one interest, nursing it to success, and also engaging in your other interests on the side. Create a schedule that would work for you, but donât cram all of them into one day. Delegate specific days for each hobby and for a set amount of (flexible) time but be diligent to the one you want to succeed. But remember, even though you water a plant, it doesn't mean that it will all happen over night. Donât overwork yourself. Your success will come with steady, even time.
|Pile 2
Tarot: The Empress, Temperance, Nine of Pentacles, Five of Wands, Ten of Pentacles, Seven of Swords, Four of Cups, Nine of Cups, The Artist (bottom of the deck)
Advice: IX - Solitude
Your own stubbornness towards advice youâre given is hindering your success. Very similar to pile one with your success hidden, but the messages are completely different. This is my group of stubborn, sassy people â I can tell because the deck I picked for you always has my sassy guides connected to it â¤ď¸, but also by your energy. Now, pile 2~ Why would you come to a tarot reading if you always hate what a reading has to say? Is it because it isnât what you want to hear? Your own stubbornness is what is stopping you from reaching your full potential. There is an energy here of wanting advice but getting butt hurt when you get it because itâs either something you donât want to hear or you want someone to kiss your ass. This could be just an emotional responseâŚYou may just get hurt with advice because you could take it as people not caring, when itâs actually the other way around â especially if it comes from genuine people that you hold close. You may actually know that what they say is actually quite helpful, but continue to lie to yourself. You are hiding your own success from yourself. You could also be stuck in a cycle of suffering. Itâs a place you feel most comfortableâŚyou are comfortable with the uncomfortable.
Pile two, you have The Empress hereâŚyou have the potential to reach your full potential but you refuse to tap into it. Itâs not that you canât see it. But do you feel like you deserve it? I feel like you do think you deserve it but old wounds of not feeling like you do have driven you into repeating cycles.
Your advice card talks about two different perspectives of solitude. You could be withdrawing so much from society that you start to feel like youâre alien, anything but human. But it also mentions a fear of being alone and the act of doing anything to make sure you arenât alone. Maybe your success will have you outgrowing people in your life. Youâre afraid of that change. And a lot of people talk about having to walk away from people you outgrow, but that isnât always the case. Itâs okay to outgrow people and still remain friends or family. You may just have to hold them at a farther arms length than you used to. Where you are growing will also bring in other people as well. If people that you could outgrow are giving you helpful advice, they want to see you grow and succeed.
This pile had put up a very defensive front at the beginning and then muddled out towards the end. I donât know if you also have a feeling that you want your problems to be magically solved but every time you get a reading or advice, it tells you that you have to put in some work. This issue could also be resolved if you just ask someone for help, if itâs a problem that can be delegated. Maybe the only help you want is someone to just hold your hand while you solve it yourself. But you have to ask. You want to be the main character but are forgetting that main characters work to move the story along (even if that means asking someone for help or support).
|Pile 3
Tarot: The High Priestess, Knight of Swords, Six of Wands, The Lovers, The Star, Four of Swords, Queen of Swords, Ten of Swords, The Hermit (bottom of the deck)
Advice: Page of Torches
I had a hard time pulling cards for this pile. They wouldnât come out until I stretched and shifted myself. What is hidden from you has to do with your tunnel vision towards what youâre doing and not being able to see clearly because you could be so tense (I have to continuously relax my shoulders). I also had to make sure that everything was neat and in order, so you may have a very strict way that you want something to pan out which is keeping things hidden. There has been a theme that has risen in all the decks and it was that you are keeping things hidden. You have more control over the situation than you initially believe, but if you are keeping something on the tight leash so it can jump through hoops you have previously set, you donât get to see what it can do off the leash.
Right off the bat, I want to tell you that communication is key to reveal something that is hidden in your life. Ask the question, communicate your worries, talk to them. There is a problem that has been going on for generations and itâs the fact that people donât communicate. Things go a lot smoother, most likely in your favor, if you just ask.
Now, what is hidden isnât really being told to me. I believe that it is different for everyone but I think your guides, here, want you to learn the beautiful tool of communication. Maybe that is what is truly hidden: the tool of communication.
There are a few scenarios that I can kind of pick up on though. If this has to do with a romantic partner or a potential partner, you may have something that you have been worrying about. Whatever you have been thinking can be solved with just asking them. This could be something you already have an inkling about, but to confirm your intuition, itâs best just to ask.
Another scenario could be about a job or scoring a position somewhere (getting an art studio, getting into a certain school, wanting to partner with someone for a business project, etc). Again, it doesnât hurt to ask. Submit those documents, submit the application, show them your portfolio, tell them about your idea. It doesnât hurt to ask.
Whatever it is, donât hide away and continue to torture yourself by spiralling in your own thoughts.
Dividers: @inklore
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ë°Šě°Ź âââ cracks in the mirror 2



⥠pairing á¸á¸ idol!chan x fem!reader genre á¸á¸ drama ig, kinda fluff á¸á¸ cw á¸á¸ mean girl mina , chan is mean but to mina :3 ⥠synopsis á¸á¸ chan confronts mina. [ part one ] a/n ŕš i messed up the format please don't laugh at meâ this second part is confrontations like requested but if you guys want iâll write a fluff scene to close the lil series ! [ 1.7k words ] ⥠masterlist
the next morning, chan walked into the company with a clear mission. mina was sitting inside a practice room, scrolling on her phone, looking as if she didnât have a care in the world.
âmina,â chan said, his tone calm but unmistakably firm.
she looked up, surprised at the abruptness in his voice. âoh, hey, chan!â she flashed him her usual sweet smile. he didnât reciprocate, instead crossing his arms. âwe need to talk.â
minaâs smile faltered, but she quickly recovered, adjusting her posture. âoh? what about?â he shut the door and turned to face her.
âmina, iâm going to be straight with you. what you said to y/n yesterday was completely out of line.â her brows furrowed in mock confusion. âwhat do you mean? i didnât say anything wrong to her. we were just talking.â
chanâs eyes narrowed slightly. âtalking? you called her âbraveâ for being confident with extra weight. do you really think thatâs appropriate?â
mina hesitated for a second but then tilted her head, trying to appear innocent. âi didnât mean it in a bad way! i was just giving her a compliment. if she took it the wrong way, thatâs on her.â
âno, mina,â chan interrupted, his tone sharper. âitâs not on her. youâve been here long enough to know whatâs acceptable and whatâs not when it comes to how we treat peopleâespecially our colleagues. y/n has done nothing but work hard, and the last thing she needs is passive-aggressive comments or veiled insults.â
minaâs expression hardened slightly, her facade cracking. âi think youâre reading too much into this, chan. maybe youâre just overly sensitive about her.â
âdonât deflect,â he countered, his voice steady but firm. âthis isnât about me being âsensitive.â itâs about respect. and itâs about creating an environment where everyone feels safe and valued, not judged.â
mina crossed her arms, defensive. âfine. if sheâs that upset, iâll apologize.â
chan shook his head. âdonât just apologize to check a box, mina. think about why this behavior is a problem and how it affects the people around you. if this happens again, weâre going to have a much bigger issue to deal with.â
thereâs a moment of tense silence before mina finally nodded, though her expression didnât suggest much remorse. âgot it,â she muttered, looking away.
chan sighed, his disappointment evident. âgood. i hope this is the last time we have to have this conversation.â
as mina left the room, chan stayed behind for a moment, running a hand through his hair. he knew he couldnât force someone to change, but he hoped his words would at least make her think twice before targeting youâor anyone elseâagain.
later in the day, you were back in the studio, focusing intently on your work. you were determined to push the events of yesterday to the back of your mind. minaâs cruel words still lingered, but chanâs support had given you the strength to move forward, even if only slightly.
the faint sound of voices carried through the hallway as you typed away on your laptop, but you didnât pay them much attention until the door to the studio opened, and in walked mina. you glanced up briefly, then returned your attention to your work, pretending she wasnât there.
âhey, y/n,â mina said softly, her tone uncharacteristically subdued.
you didnât respond immediately, choosing instead to finish typing your thought. then, you leaned back in your chair and gave her a curt nod. âwhat is it, mina?â
she hesitated, her usual confidence replaced with something resembling awkwardness. âi just⌠i wanted to say iâm sorry. about yesterday. i think i might have come across the wrong way, and i didnât mean to upset you.â
you studied her for a moment, trying to decipher whether her apology was genuine or just another act. âis that so?â you asked, your tone as neutral as you could manage.
âyes,â mina said, clasping her hands together and giving you what she probably thought was a sincere look. âi was just trying to make conversation, but i think it came out wrong.â
you let out a soft scoff, turning your attention back to your laptop. âright. making conversation.â
she faltered, clearly not expecting your cold response. âi mean it,â she pressed. âi didnât mean to hurt your feelings.â
you gave her a sharp look, your patience wearing thin. âfunny, because you seem to be really good at saying things that hurt people, mina. so forgive me if iâm not buying this sudden burst of remorse.â
the door creaked open slightly, and you noticed the reflection of two familiar faces in the glass windowâchangbin and han. they were leaning against the frame, partially hidden but clearly listening.
mina didnât seem to notice. her expression shifted instantly, the veneer of sweetness cracking. âwell, i was just trying to be nice,â she snapped, her tone defensive. âitâs not my fault youâre so sensitive.â
you smirked, though there was no humor in it. âthere she is,â you said, your voice low and pointed. âi was wondering how long youâd keep up the act.â
hansâs low mutter of âoh, hell noâ barely registered, but changbin's quiet snort did.
minaâs face reddened, her fake apology dissolving entirely. âyou know what? maybe i was wasting my time trying to apologize.â
you leaned forward, meeting her glare with unwavering calm. âthen maybe you should do us both a favor and not waste your time next time.â
she huffed, crossing her arms. âwhatever,â she muttered before turning on her heel. as she opened the door, she froze, noticing changbin and han standing there, arms crossed and faces set in disapproval.
âoh, donât mind us,â han said, his tone light but dripping with sarcasm. âwe were just passing by.â
minaâs eyes darted between the two of them before she shoved past and stormed down the hallway.
changbin let out a low whistle, shaking his head as he stepped into the studio. âwow. sheâs worse than i thought.â
han followed, plopping down onto the couch. ânice work.â
you sighed, leaning back in your chair. âthanks.â
you sat in the breakroom, nursing your coffee and trying to shake off the encounter with mina earlier. her fake apology and subsequent outburst had left you drained, though you wouldnât let her know that.
the door swung open, and you glanced up to see chan. his jaw was set, and his usually warm eyes were stormy.
âwhere is she?â he asked, his tone clipped.
you blinked, startled by the intensity in his voice. âwho?â
âmina,â he bit out, already turning to leave. âi heard what happened. sheâs not getting away with it this time.â
before you could protestâor warn himâhe was out the door, striding down the hallway. you followed hesitantly, curiosity overriding your instinct to stay out of it.
chan found mina sitting in the cafeteria, scrolling on her phone like she didnât have a care in the world. he didnât hesitate.
âoi, mina,â he snapped, his voice carrying across the room.
she looked up, startled, and quickly masked her surprise with a saccharine smile. âoh, hey, chan! whatâs up?â
he stopped a few feet from her, his posture rigid. âcut it,â he said, his accent thicker than usual, each word sharp enough to cut glass. âwhat the hell is your problem?â
her smile faltered. âexcuse me?â she said, her voice rising indignantly.
âyou heard me,â chan said, his tone low and hushed, as if trying not to let anyone hear. âwhy do you keep goinâ out of your way to be such a goddamned pain in the ass?â
minaâs mouth opened and closed, clearly taken aback. âi donât know what youâre talking about,â she stammered.
âoh, donât play dumb with me,â he shot back, his voice rising. âiâve heard how you treat y/n. and today? you waltz in with your half-arsed apology, then turn around and throw more shade when it doesnât go your way. are you serious?â
mina straightened her spine, trying to regain her composure. âi was just trying to be niceââ
âbullshit,â chan interrupted, his accent thick and raw. âyou were beinâ a snake, and you know it. nice doesnât look like what you do, mina. nice doesnât leave people feelinâ like shit after every conversation. so drop the act, yeah?â
her face reddened, her carefully crafted facade crumbling. âi donât need this from you,â she snapped. âi was just trying to help, but clearly y/nâs too sensitive to handle a bit of honesty.â
chan took a step closer, his gaze unwavering. âhonesty? you call tearing someone down âhonestyâ? nah, mate, thatâs just you beinâ a spiteful cow. and if you think iâm gonna let you get away with it, youâve got another thing cominâ.â
mina looked like she wanted to retort, but chan didnât give her the chance.
âyouâre done,â he said firmly. âyou donât get to treat people like that and expect everyone to put up with it. especially not y/n. so unless youâre ready to actually grow the hell up, you canât work for me, or anyone else here.â
the room was silent, and all eyes were on chan as his chest heaved. minaâs jaw tightened, and without another word, she grabbed her bag and stormed out.
chan let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair before turning around to see you standing there. his expression softened when he saw you standing there, half-hidden behind the doorway.
âyou heard that?â he asked, his voice gentler now.
you nodded, your chest tight with a mix of gratitude and surprise. âyeah. you didnât have toââ
he offered a small smile, his eyes warm again. âno, i didnât, but.. you donât deserve that from her. no one does.â
you walked over to him, taking in his worked up, flushed state. âare you okay?â you asked him, cautiously inching closer. he nodded, sighing. âyeah. but i already know iâm about to get scolded for talking to her like that.â he looked up at you from his fists, his gaze tender.Â
you bit the inside of your cheek, steeling yourself. âdo you wanna step outside, and go for a walk or something? to cool off?âÂ
he stood up straighter, nodding. âsure,â he grinned, showing off his adorable dimple. âafter you.â
tags: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek
Šchansdoll do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.
#skz x reader#kpop x reader#bang chan#skz imagines#skz scenarios#skz bangchan#stray kids#stray kids x reader#skz bang chan#bangchan x you#bangchan x reader#bangchan fluff#bangchan#bangchan imagines#stray kids imagines#kpop fluff#stray kids scenarios#chan stray kids#chan fluff
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Thank you everyone for all your questions. I will be putting an end to this askblog after this post and returning it to its owner. I didn't know what to expect when I created it, certainly not this⌠but I guess this wasn't such a bad ending.
Without further ado, here's my replies to all the questions I left unanswered. And goodbye.
During these past few years I had a lot of time to think, and I realized I care about being useful, or meaning something to someone. That's why I kept working at the rehab center after settling my debt with them, though I was never all that good at caring for the people there.
In terms of physical objects, I've come to care about my home and possessions quite a bit. I didn't have many things that were my own when I was the detective prince, but this home is something I worked for and gained all through my own efforts.
Ten years is a long time. I pride myself in being resourceful but even then I'm unsure if I would survive that long.
⌠Though in some ways I feel as if I've been lost these past few years too.
Watch movies, especially the ones that make me think more deeply about myself. I find the journey to find oneself quite inspiring. The original featherman movie trilogy is quite good at that.
I wasn't miserable in those interviews, but well⌠I suppose I wasn't quite myself in them either.
In relation to your questions: 1-I have picked up writing, mostly of the mystery genre, I have no plans to publish this, especially since some are inspired by confidential cases, but I enjoy it. 2-I have not travelled outside of Kyoto since moving here, I have not been recognized more than a handful of times, I keep my hair up and dress differently so no one connects the dots. 3-Galaxy Studios Park is just a short train trip away, I loved visiting when they had some special rides and attractions dedicated to last year's featherman movie. (Not that the movie was that good, but it was still fun. The wait for the rides was a nightmare, though.) 4-Yes. I enjoy no longer being in the public eye. It's freeing being allowed to be myself, even if I'm still figuring out who 'myself' is. 5-No pets, but have considered getting them... now that Akira is here (and seems intent on staying) I will have to discuss it with him.
I'm in a Reddit thread for ARG's, they are intriguing, and harmless, but still exciting to try to solve. Unfortunately, I can't participate in many due to parts of the mysteries being related to real world locations.
I think they are nonsense, no one's fate should be decided by another, much less by pieces of paper, they are also obviously just vague enough so that it applies to anyone. Still, I know Akira likes that sort of thing, so I try to not...judge too much.
Taiyaki, I wasn't the biggest fan before, but there's a vendor near where I live, I especially enjoy the matcha flavor since it's not overly sweet.
Boring. I'm stuck in bed because I have a leech clinging onto me, otherwise, I suppose it's an alright day. If you meant yesterday⌠it was stressful, but it worked out.
I saw this ask before deciding to leave because I realized if I left him to his own devices he would blow up half the city trying to find my apartment.
Thank you, I think. I just wear them when I'm at my laptop, the blue light filter is helpful.
I got worried of what he would do once he came to the town I've started calling my new home. Can you blame me?
It was... alright. It still feels a bit surreal, I'm still not sure if this is happening or a dream. But it's nice to know he still cares.
... Yes. It seems as if you are correct.
I always recommend the classics of the mystery genre, Conan Doyle and Edogawa Ranpo. But... Well, if you like rivalries between thieves and detectives I recommend checking out Arsène Lupin versus Herlock Sholmes.
...Not my type of song.
Turns out he is not as harmless as I previously thought.
I very much doubt that anyone else from the queer community has a similar relationship to ours. If so, my condolences.
I don't think I will be waking up alone ever again. But while I was on my own⌠I just looked for the small things I still cared about. Working on a rehab center helped. You get a lot of coworkers that are constantly mentioning that as long as you keep going, you will find a purpose in your life again.
And so I have.
---
That was all the questions I received. I will be logging off now permanently.
Thank you again. I was angry at first of how several of you got Akira even more pumped up into finding me, but I not understand your intentions were not malicious ones. We have a lot to talk about still, but I am... looking forward to it, I think.
Goodbye. Goro Akechi, former detective prince.
#goro akechi#the detective prince#this post turned out quite long so i put it under a read more#i will now go wake up akira so we can have lunch#goodbye and thank you
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Eddie Diaz x reader
Angst but fluff at the end
Where maybe the reader is married to Eddie and she asks him about if he ever wants a kid with her and he takes it the wrong way and says something like I only need Christopher and heâs enough, and the reader gets upset and walks off and maybe drives to Maddieâs and chimneys and while sheâs gone he goes to their room and finds a box on the bed and he opens it to see the readers ultrasound and he immediately feels bad and goes to talk to her and happy ending.ďżź
Thank you so much for the request! I altered it only slightly (just where Eddie finds the ultrasound) but I loved this concept. I love angst with a happy ending!
It was a pretty normal day all in all. Carla was taking care of Christopher, Eddie was at the station, your boss kept sending hundreds of emails, oh and you had found out you were pregnant. Just an average day. You hadn't planned this by any means. You and Eddie had never talked about having a baby. You had been married for a year and a half, but the subject had never come up and you had never pushed it. Look how well that had gone. After staring at the stick in your hand for what felt like an eternity, you finally pushed yourself up from the floor and left the bathroom.
"Hey, Carla, are you okay if I run out? I have to go do something. It should only be about an hour." You say grabbing your keys.
"Of course, honey. Go right ahead." She says.
"Thanks, Carla. Bye bud," you say kissing Christopher on the top of his head before heading out of your and Eddie's shared house.
You didn't even know what you were doing until you were sitting in the waiting room of the local doctor's office reading a magazine.
It wasn't until one of the nurses had called your name 3 times that you seemed to realize they were calling you.
"Sorry." You apologize sheepishly standing and following her back to a room.
Sure enough, the doctor confirmed you were about 6 weeks pregnant and sent you home with a picture of the tiny baby. You knew you couldn't hide this from Eddie for long since you were likely to start experiencing more symptoms, but a part of you was worried about how he would react. Everything had finally settled down with Christopher and work. Everything was stable per se. And now you were throwing a wrench into the serenity the two of you had worked so hard to create. Finally, you decided you would broach the subject once Christopher had gone to bed. You would just ask him if he ever thought about having more kids. Yeah. That would work.
So, that night after Christopher was in bed and you and Eddie were alone in your room getting ready for bed, you took a deep breath before deciding now was a good time to approach the subject.
"Hey, Eddie?" You asked putting lotion onto your arms. "Have you ever thought about maybe having another kid?"
"What?" He asks brows furrowed as he pulls the covers down and joins you in the bed.
"Have you ever wanted another kid? I mean I love Christopher, but I was just curious." You explain, heart racing.
"Not really. I mean, I'm happy with Chris. He's a handful as it is and with him getting older, I don't know. I'm happy that the diaper changes and waking up to screaming is over." He says.
Anger surges through you at his admission. How could he say that? How could he openly admit to your face that he didn't want the baby growing inside of you...not that he knew about that, but that wasn't important.
"Were you even around for that?" You ask not thinking about what you're saying, just infuriated at him. "I mean didn't you enlist right after Shannon had Chris so didn't you pretty much luck out and miss all of those years?"
"What the hell are you saying?" He asks, confused at why you're attacking him all of a sudden.
"I just mean don't you not even know what it's like to be there for those years, so isn't that not a fair standard to measure it by?" You argue.
"What's going on with you?" He asks, turning to you, trying to contain his anger.
You scoff, "Nothing."
"Something's going on 'cause you're acting like a real bitch to me right now for no reason." He says. Instantly his face drops, realizing what he just said to you. "I-"
"Fuck you, Eddie." You say standing up and grabbing your coat. You don't listen to him as he follows after you, grabbing your keys and walking out of the house. You just get in your car and drive.
Eddie watches as you leave, slamming the door behind you. He really messed up this time. "Fuck!" He exclaims hitting the table. Your purse tips over as his fist makes contact with the table. a paper falling out. The paper catches his attention, the white clashing against the dark oak of the table. He reaches to put it back in your purse when the other side of the paper intrigues him. He turns it over to see a blob in the middle of the page. His face drops instantly, he runs his hand through his hair staring at the blob that is the reason for your outburst a few minutes earlier. He sighs texting Buck asking him to come stay with Christopher. 15 minutes later, a confused Buck shows up at Eddie's door.
"Uh...Everything alright? It's kinda late for a sleepover." He says.
"I messed up." He sighs stepping aside. After a quick explanation to Buck after letting him inside, Eddie is on his way out the door, texting everyone if you're with them. A few minutes into his search, Chimney texts back saying that you're there with Maddie and that he really messed up this time.
20 minutes later he's standing outside of Maddie's apartment, ultrasound in hand as he knocks with his free hand. Maddie answers, hands on her hips, brow raised at him, and sass written all over her face.
"I know, I know. Can I just talk to her?" He sighs. Maddie steps aside and lets him find you on the couch.
"Amor?" He asks cautiously, approaching you carefully.
"What do you want, Eddie?" You ask not looking at him.
"Can we talk?" He asks coming to sit next to you. The picture in his hand is what catches your eye. You look up at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly open. "When you asked me if I wanted more kids, you should have told me you were pregnant."
"I was trying to figure out how you would react." You explain.
"Just because it wasn't in my plan to have more kids doesn't mean I won't love this baby." He sighs.
"Well, when I broached the subject you didn't seem thrilled." You say sadly.
"Well, you started attacking me when I said I didn't want more kids." He says softly.
"I'm sorry." You say.
"Me too." He says taking my hand in his. "Come on, let's go home."
"Okay." You say taking his hand and standing with him. After saying goodbye to Maddie and Chim, you and Eddie make your way to his truck and start back home.
"So, how far along are you?" Eddie asks as we pull out of their driveway.
"6 weeks." You say quietly. He starts laughing and you look at him with amusement.
"Does that mean-" He cuts himself off with a laugh. "That we made a baby-"
"At Bobby and Athena's party, yep." You chime in laughing along with him.
He smiles taking your hand in his and kissing the top of it. Looking into his eyes, you knew that soon, everything would be back to normal and you'd have a new addition to your family.
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What do you think of a teenage antihero reader?
Readers are the type of people who like to tease others. Of course, they also like to create chaos.
like:
Batman feels sad because his children are estranged from him.
Reader: *deliberately calls Batman papa in front of the Batkids. makes them jealous and fight to get Batman's love.* "Papa, let me join this mission.", "Papa, pocket money?"
Reader: "I wasn't adopted by Batman. Why do I call Batman papa?" *Looks at the Batkids, who look at Reader with bullet-shaped eyes* "Because it's fun and I get to watch them get jealous but can't do anything to me, haha"
Reader: Spend time with your father and I will handle your affairs. Same old account, transfer the money there. *Accepts to stay away from Batman happily because Batkids will pay Reader*
I love this!
I don't know if this is yandere or not so I'll do overall reactions and you can decide whether they end up yandere or not! (If you want proper yandere then don't be afraid to ask)
At first Dick doesn't mind, in fact he finds it odd - who would want to call Batman "Papa" or any type of name like that? Over time however he'll start to feel an odd pang in his chest, he could've been the teenager calling Bruce that, he could have had a good relationship with Bruce like how you seem to (even if you yourself are pretending). So, he gets huffy and irritable whenever he sees you. He'll find some flaw in what you do and immediately tell everyone and try to make you look bad - you don't care clearly but Dick feels like he's doing something so you pretend, kinda.
Jason at first pities you. He thinks you genuinely mean it, that you genuinely see Batman as a father figure. He's so sure that Batman is going to fail you. That is until it starts getting too much. Jason would of spoken to Roy about it over some drinks and despite what Roy would have said Jason would feel bitter and angry - he could have had that! If he didn't fall for that trap, if Joker didn't kill him, if Bruce - no, Batman, got to him in time. Jason would from then on "accidentally" stumble across missions he wasn't supposed to be there for that you and Batman would be on. He'd flip you off before bantering with Batman - you shrug it off, you don't actually have any interest in Batman being your dad.
Tim is automatically suspicious, you're known for causing chaos and judging by how everyone reacts this is probably just one of your ploys. He doesn't pay much mind but slowly gets peeved at your continuance. Haven't you had your fun already? (no, seeing the reactions of the others makes you continue). Tim digs into your civilian life - he and the others found out about it when you first appeared so as to label you as a threat or not. He'll dig up past mistakes and issues then present them to Bruce and you, subtly taunting you with your past so as to convince you to distance yourself. When you don't he gets petty, you approach Batman - he steps in front of you and blocks your path. You yell out to him - he yells louder. You want to go on a mission - oh no.. Looks like you're swamped with work AND injured :(
Damian is immediately pissed. What are you doing? You shouldn't be pretending that Batman is your father! You aren't blood - hell, you aren't even adopted! Damian, though he's gotten better, is very traditionalist (thanks to his grandfather). What you're doing - along with the chaos you cause in general - is against the proper traditional lifestyle. Is he just using that as an excuse and doesn't actually believe it? yes. Is he going to stop? no. Fuck that. Damian dreams of setting his animals on you, the only thing stopping him is that he doesn't want his poor animals to meet such a disgusting person like you. Instead, he'll stand on your toes, ignore you if you need help, stay close to Batman and try and intimidate you away.
Finally they all would of had enough and would corner you, they'd offer to pay you to stay away and you all would sort out a deal.
It'd confuse Batman as to why you're suddenly keeping your distance while his children are constantly around him. Batman has a soft spot for children - you included. He thought he was fixing you but now you're back to your old habits??? Batman would immediately be onto his children and question them. They don't crack easily so Batman checks their accounts, messages, etc until he gets enough proof that they are the reason you keep away. He's obviously disappointed and ends up trying to talk his way into you becoming one of his full allies - you obviously reject it, you don't actually care for him and prefer to not be stuck on just one side.
The others end up being forced to ask you to join back and you reject them, they threaten you that they'd stop paying you and you laugh - they've given you enough money to last a year, maybe more if you're frugal!
#dc#dc comics#dc universe#dc robin#dcu#batman and robin#red robin#robin#nightwing#red hood#dick grayson#jason todd#tim drake#damian wayne#bruce wayne#batman#blackbirds feathers
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- series : crow choir
"commitment" and pre-moving out reader is an interesting stich i want to add to the story, and a side trait to think about when reading.
the premise is that after the reader's tough time with their sister is ended by her untimely death, they're shuffled around foster homes with barely enough time to get settled, create meaningful relationships, or even say goodbye properly. they're probably in a dull headspace during the whole agenda, having to navigate through a life without their only pillar of support, and without any support at all.
it would subconsciously create an issue with attachment though, not wanting to trust or love others at all in fear that once they eventually leave, as they always do, you'll be left with a little empty pit in your heart again.
hobbies, similarly, are just quick things to occupy yourself with. not something you're actually interested in, or particularly want to do. just something to fill in the empty gaps in time when you're not with your friends or busy with work or shaking hands with a nameless businessman for mr. wayne.
because of this, everything is just... boring. difficult to do, to finish. with your family it's the exact same. wanting to be with them, trust them, love them, is like your hobbies. quick and done with, depending on your mood. it's somewhat natural to have your social battery correlate with your behavior, but with the headspace provided, it's just another cog in a endless wheel of self-pity and loathing.
you'll think miserably; why don't they want to talk to me? while having tensely excusing yourself from a family get-up with a slight grimace just a few hours ago.
that's just the thing. you're not excluded from anything. well, most things, they do sometimes forget about you, but you're not excluded. you don't involve yourself because you're scared of feeling happy with them, but feel terrible when you're all on your own too.
with an emotionally repressed background clawing it's way up from your past with a mostly-busy, mostly-angsty, tough-loving sister, you can't even identify your emotions clearly.
i imagine maybe asking dick to hang out, and he assures you he'll make time with a smile. yeah, he does forget, remembering out of his own volitation only months later, but he does remember, and asks you about the same. but if you're say, in a bad mood, which you happen to be in very often because of your circumstances, you'll probably decline. moping over it later.
there's no good or bad here. reader is not a bad person for this specifically, so to speak. neither is the family. yes, not following up on particular wishes and then blaming others and kicking yourself up over it isn't healthy, it's unfair too. but you can't be blamed. you're still living on the mindset of a little kid waiting for big sister to come home from work, ask to play, and possibly dodging a fist to your face and scrambling away to your room. you're scared.
the family doesn't exclude you, but they could be doing a better job. yes you sit at the dining table with them when you eat, but you don't join into conversations and they don't seem to care. yes you watch your brothers squabble on video games, but only from a cold distance. but they can't be blamed. they're all a little emotionally stunted, and their reasoning does seem to sometimes overpower them. maybe you're so quiet because you don't like to talk? they wouldn't want to impose themselves on you. besides, they don't know you that well either, and you're doing quite a job to make sure they don't, what would you guys even talk about?
that said, the above thoughts are fleeting. thoughts about you are neglected, and pushed into the corner, like you are. after falling out with your friends over... an incident, you grow harshly distant. you no longer fear them, no, you detest them. you begin to hate again. and that little burst of emotion, that hate, is so refreshing in the face of dull existence that you cling onto it. you get attached. it's their fault. some vigilantes they are. saving everyone but you, but your sister, your siblings, your friends, everybody who had the simplest misfortune of being associated with your unmeaning life. maybe it's unreasonable to think this way, but you don't much care.
you grow unreasonable, but you always have been.
if you like the story, i encourage interacting and sending asks, but either way, thank you for the support on the series and for reading!!
#batfam x reader#angst#batfamily#batsis reader#batman fanfiction#bruce wayne x batsis#batfam#tim drake x batsis#dc x reader#neglected reader#x neglected reader#yandere dc#yandere batfam#yandere batman#yandere batboys#yandere dick grayson#batfam x male reader#yandere x male reader#yandere x gn reader
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Astarion prefers monogamy.
Again, simply my cup of thought tea steeped from my game experience. Its not everyone's drink. No shame, no blame, it's your game. Warning for triggers and spoilers.
*added note due to misunderstandings.
Please notice I said "prefers monogamy" not "is monogamous". He may be up for added partners later on down the line. But definitely not any time before the epilogue in my world.
So, why do I think he prefers monogamy?
Take..
"Iv never had anyone. Not really. Nothing that compares to you."
And mix that with...
"I had nothing for so very long. NOTHING! Not even my own body!"
And add..
"You're you. Nobody is like that."
Plus countless other comments and actions and you get a bowl full of elf who just wants something for himself only for a change.
Centuries of being forced to give up or share everything. His possessions, his person, his own thoughts. Nothing to claim as own that no one else could take or touch at any moment. I'm sure if anything was given to him, he had to fight to keep it.
I think, he would be a bit possessive of anything he could claim as his own.
You are a gift to him. Something rare and special beyond words. I highly doubt he would be willing to share anything you are sharing with him outside of friendship. I could even see him getting fussy about strangers touching you. Moving you away or putting himself physically between you and whomever just touched you without asking.
Hells, even ascended Astarion isn't 100% game to share.
"As much as I wish to sequester you in a deep chamber of my palace and keep you all to myself...there is much to be done."
But, what about Halsin? He says he's fine with it.
Is he? Or is he people pleasing?
If he had said something along the lines of,
"Oh? He wants to share does he? Of course he does. I'm not up for such activities just yet, but you are free to have as much Halsin as you wish. "
I would have gone on that bear hunt, but he doesn't.
He askes you if you are wanting to sleep with Halsin because he has not been able to meet your sexual needs. And I interpreted that as he's vulnerable and worried he's being replaced for not putting out.
Imagine you had asked your lover to not to look to you for sex for reasons you are working out. They agree and you are just relieved as hell about it.
"You were patient. You cared."
Then they come along later down the line and say they are thinking about having sex with a friend. Where would your mind go?
I would bet hard gold he weighed the options in his head. "If I don't let them do this, they might leave me for good. But if I allow it, they wont have an immediate reason to leave. Halsin is the safest option given his experience."
And what's the best way to feel less awful about a situation we cant control? Create a counter situation where we gaslight ourselves into thinking its fine.
Wheeee!
I'm not saying Halsin's offer was bad, it was perfectly fine, it was just poorly placed in the grand scheme of things. If you and Astarion were having fun again before he suggested being an extra, then it would have been easier to believe he was really fine with it.
If they wanted Astarion to be a poly partner they needed to write it better. Shadowheart makes more sense as pro poly than he does.
So for me, Astarion is a one on one elf.
I am not against polyamory. I am not trying to take representation away. I am not shaming anybody for their choices. There is just not enough specific content to support it fully FOR ME. I was actually excited at the idea of having two partners in my fantasy world. Halsin was very clear and very specific about being on board. Astarion was not. And the choice did not feel right. Add a line somewhere for Astarion where he says "Im perfectly fine with sharing, darling. As long as it is discussed and we are in agreement of course." I will happily be on board with it.
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Not a request, but how do you think poly yandere Boothil and Robin would work together
Yandere! Boothill x reader x Yandere!Robin
Omg!! I absolutely love the idea of a Robinhill poly!! The mutual worry goes insane, and Iâll make sure to marinate their experiences in a seasoning of their experiences!
Boothill is a man who knows what loss is. After all, loss sent him on his journey, and bore a seed of vengeance in him. For Robin, loss was immaterial. It was what she felt to be loss of freedom, and loss of close ties. In that Robin and Boothill understood each other, and their experiences, albeit similar on the surface, shaped them differently.
Boothill is protective from his past experiences; scared that if he doesnât hold his close ones, theyâll slip to never be seen again. The fear of further loss, embraced by his single-mindedness as a Galaxy Ranger, is quite the shake to deal with. Itâs worsened by a sense of posessiveness, creating a similarly determined approach with you.
Robin however knows how it feels to be left with limited options, and so despite her ever-growing affection to you, she is rather reasonable. She canât stop her feelings, but she can judge things from another perspective as well; Boothill never doubted her abilities or expertise when they combated the monkey-virus, after all. And, despite his possessiveness and jealousy, he knows she can take care of himself. She truly is an angel, in all the meanings of this word.
Then again thereâs you, too, fortunate or unfortunate enough to have their gazes on you. Perhaps it is Robin to initiate, and perhaps it is Boothill. Both work out in the end; one way or another, their relationship based on trust and understanding starts to encase you too. Maybe not in the same understanding or trustful way, but still, it is based upon care for your being.
I believe Robin and Boothill may initially find their ideals to crash, it doesnât lead to an argument. With your person, Boothill believes that the best course of action was to protect what he likes most; you, and Robin. Robin however understands it, and given she likes Boothill too, there is no fuss around the topic. Therefore no extreme measures need to be taken.
In your case⌠compliance isnât promised, thatâs what Boothill had told âsinging queenâ when discussing you over lunch. Because in case of you rejecting them, how can they ensure your safety? Robin does not wish to cage you. Boothill believes the only way to ensure safety would be to keep an eye on you, supervised.
And, given your acceptance isnât promised, Robin is fairly easy to convince. While she doesnât plan to hold you hostage - goodness, no. Sheâd never do that to someone else - she can try other ways of conviction. If you understand their care, then youâll surely choose to stay; that is something that Boothill can get behind.
And, if you choose to stay, then itâs not keeping a bird in a cage.
Their mutual care for each other extends equally to you, really! I mean, Boothill can take care of himself! And, Robin is intelligent, she did well all this time too, dealing with so many things. . .
You have to understand why itâs just different with you. You have to.
Maybe she will have to.. tune you slightly. Slightly, promise, itâs not even going to hurt! Boothill and Robin mutually donât want anyoneâs feelings hurt. And so itâs unacceptable if you offend either of them as well - same as if you were being treated badly.
Obsessive care and being protective of you isnât bad treatment, however. You simply have different needs from them. Thatâs it.
#yandere Boothill x reader#yandere Boothill#boothill x reader#yandere!boothill#yandere!boothill x reader#hsr x you#hsr x reader#yandere hsr#hsr headcanons#hsr hcs#robin x reader!#yandere robin x reader#yandere!robin#yandere!robin x reader#robinhill#robinhill x reader#robin x reader x boothill#boothill x reader x robin#robin x boothill#boothill x robin#yandere hsr men#hsr men x reader#hsr women x reader#yandere poly#boothill headcanons#yandere boothill headcanons#robin headcanons#yandere robin headcanons
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balancing act ; satoru gojo.

pairing satoru gojo x f!reader  word count 3.9k  synopsis gojo bets that he can get you to fall in love in three months, and you bet that he can't go three months with staying committed to one person and not bang them. neither of you plan on losing. content contains modern no curses!au, mentions of sex and vulgar language (but no smut yet), simp gojo <3 authorâs notes i plan on wrapping things up quickly this time around, so i have five parts planned for this mini series!

Satoru Gojo is used to a wide array of reactions to any of his antics: awe (the summer analyst, Miwa, always stares at him like he himself is the one who created the stock market), irritation (Nanami is rarely ever in agreement with the comments Gojo leaves on his work), lust (Gojo gives just as much he receives because heâs benevolent like that â his words, of course).Â
But heâs not quite used to being laughed at.Â
Heâs handsome, and he knows it, a deadly combination for any man because Shoko claims that all men are born with an astonishing amount of audacity and it only ever grows as they get older. Satoru brings up the fact that Shoko technically cheated her way through med school, and that any doctor worth her degree wouldnât get onto patients while lighting up a cigarette of all things, but Shoko is equally stubborn and audacious as any man, and it just makes her a worthy opponent to get into arguments with.Â
Being attractive and arrogant isnât enough to keep him from suffering mild humiliation from time to time, though. The reason why Satoru doesnât get embarrassed is because the world is unfair, so he happens to be born rich and smart enough and talented enough to just keep on getting richer. Even he is entirely aware of his privilege, but heâs got the type of personality that would be endearing even if he wasnât hot, so everyone loves him.Â
And you donât hate him, he knows that. He also knows that you donât love him, which is fine, because itâs not your love, or awe, or irritation, or lust (okay, maybe some lust would be nice) that Satoru wants from you. He just wants you for you, your honesty and whatever scraps of yourself that you toss to him.Â
Todayâs scraps are your laughter, which rings through the whole entire office, singing above the noisy clacks of keys being smashed by the analysts and the whirring of the printer shooting out hundreds of pages a minute. He feels a warmth spread from his stomach to his chest and maybe it even rises up to his neck, heâs not so sure. He should feel slightly embarrassed, he thinks, to have said something seriously only for you to find comedy in it, but he doesnât. He just feels pleased with himself for making you laugh, like heâs done something great.
âYou are so full of shit, Gojo.â Youâre still smiling, even though youâre not bothering to look at him anymore. Your attention is now focused on the report one of the analysts has turned into you, and from the lack of comments youâre leaving, he assumes itâs Megumiâs work.Â
âI was being serious, yâknow.â Satoruâs more than tall enough to see over the cubicles, especially when heâs standing up, and he leans over it, his head and upper body leaning into your personal desk space. The cubicles donât do jack shit for privacy, anyway, so he doesnât feel bad when you complain that heâs invading your privacy. If it was privacy that you craved, you wouldnât have three monitors raised, each of them displaying a jumble of numbers and words that Satoru doesnât care about.Â
âSo was I.â You tell him.
Just thirty minutes ago, you walked into the office with a quad shot espresso, unceremoniously plopped your Longchamp tote onto the floor, and dramatically sighed to get your desk neighborâs attention. Utahime is always a good sport when it comes to your antics but doesnât bother extending the same courtesy to Satoru, which he considers to be very unfair considering that heâs technically everyoneâs boss. It is his name thatâs displayed on the side of the building, and his private equity firm that heâs built up alongside Suguru.Â
âWhat happened this time?â Utahime asks you, like the good sport she is. Satoru, at that time, was pretending not to eavesdrop even though he is, because heâs a nosy bastard.Â
âI hate men.â You say, leaning back in your chair. âHe left me for someone nice.â
The way you say it lets him â and Utahime, who is actually the person youâre talking to â know that that nice was a direct quote from your ex.
Utahime furrows her brows, looking confused. âBut you are nice.âÂ
Debatable, is what Satoru wants to say, but heâs remaining silent so he can get the full story out of you first.
âNo. Iâm a workaholic with no personality outside of my fancy finance job.âÂ
Ouch.Â
Satoru doesnât see an issue with you, though. So what, youâre hardworking and focused? He thinks itâs kinda hot to see someone with so much ambition and discipline. He wouldnât have hired you if you were anything less.Â
âHeâs just insecure.â Utahime says, soft voice trying to soothe you, even though Satoru hears the familiar sound of your manicure typing in your login details to your computer. He knows itâs silly to think he can tell the difference between your typing and anyone elseâs, and he doesnât want to think too hard about what that could possibly mean when it comes to defining his feelings for you.
âYou said the same thing about my last three exes, and they all said similar things about me.â Satoru canât see either of you from this angle, but heâs certain that youâre opening up your emails right about now. The conversation is coming to a close, and he needs to start focusing on his own tasks, but then you say something interesting, practically baiting him to come out of his office.
âIâve decided that from this point forward, I am swearing off men.âÂ
Utahime laughs. âYou canât just swear off all men because of a few bad ones.â
âNot forever.â You clarify. âJust for the time being. All the men Iâve dealt with in Tokyo suck.â
On paper, all your exes are fantastic catches. Thereâs the surgeon (who found you to be too independent), the professor (who thought you were too busy to give him the attention he needed), the hedge fund associate (who thought that he liked smart girls, but apparently, not ones smarter than him), and your newest ex, the investment banker. The irony isnât lost on anyone â an investment banker criticizing someone for being a workaholic obsessed with the prestige of their finance career? If he was going to scramble for an excuse to want to see other people, he should have chosen some other cliche line instead of using the same one someone else must have said to him.Â
âWhatâs this about men in Tokyo?â Satoru strolls up to the divider between you and Utahime, hands in his pockets, pretending that he hasnât been listening to the entirety of your conversation from the very beginning.
âThat all of them suck.â You say, with that unwavering confidence he likes.Â
âIâm a man in Tokyo.â Heâs grinning.
âYeah. I stand by what I said.â Youâre not even being courteous enough to look at him, still focused on whatever email is on your screen.
His grin only grows wider.
âMaybe all the men youâve been with are subpar, but I bet I could change your mind.âÂ
âIs this even appropriate for work?â Utahime interjects.Â
âIf itâll make my dear employee Utahime happy, I can grab someone from HR to supervise this conversation.â Satoru says.
âItâs a trap.â You tell her, lips curling up in a smile that lets him know youâre going to say something very mean and probably true about him. âHeâs already broken protocol with everyone who works there.âÂ
âYouâre very disrespectful to your boss. Anyone else would have fired you on the spot.â Satoru only pretends to be wounded by your comments, but everyone knows that heâs as good at taking it as he is at dishing it out. Sometimes, itâs easy to forget that Satoru owns this firm because heâs not very good at professionalism himself.Â
Utahime mutters something under her breath, deciding not to engage further in whatever it is the two of you are doing.
âSo, whaddya say? Wanna test out your âall men in Tokyo suckâ theory with me?â He knows this teasing wonât go anywhere, even if he wants it to. Youâre good at your job, and youâre good at being a professional. Somehow, he doesnât think you would consider fucking your boss as something very professional.Â
âI would, but I have standards.âÂ
Satoru wants to make a snide comment about all the guys who have dumped you, but he canât, because itâs already been established that theyâre not just decent by regular standards, but stellar. Rich, successful, well educated men who could probably make you cum.Â
Well, Satoru is richer, more successful, and more educated than all of them combined, he thinks. And he would gladly make you cum like crazy, if you let him.Â
âCâmon, whatâs wrong with me?âÂ
âPromise I wonât get fired if Iâm being honest?â You turn your desk chair, looking up at him with mock doe eyes, and the sight shouldnât be both endearing and hot to him, but it is.Â
âGive me your worst.â He tells you, both of you smiling at the challenge.Â
âI donât give anything of myself to a man who canât even bother to commit to anyone.âÂ
Of course, you have a point. Satoruâs not known for dating anyone. He takes women out on extravagant dates, yes, but he doesnât actually practice the act of dating.Â
He doesnât see a point to it. Most people, save for his friends (a bit weird to consider some of his closest companions are actually his employees), see beyond his shiny veneer, and dating would just complicate things. Dating means someone seeing the duller, not-so-great parts of himself. Â
âI could commit if itâs you.âÂ
The way he says it, without that familiar teasing lilt of his, makes you burst out laughing. He really is trying to commit⌠to the bit, that is. For a moment, Satoru almost tricks you into thinking heâs serious.Â
âYou are so full of shit, Gojo.â
Youâre focused on your work, not the momentary hurt look that disappears from his face as quickly as it came.Â
âDonât be such a pessimist.â He tells you. âI bet I could make you believe in love again.âÂ
âWho said I didnât believe in love?â You frown at that. âI just donât believe that the men in this city are capable of it.âÂ
âBonus season is upon us.â Satoru says, suddenly having a bright idea. Heâs so rich that his wealth seems to be an extension of himself, and like all other parts of his body and mind, he uses it to his advantage.Â
âUgh, donât tell me this conversation is going to affect my bonus check. I really will go to HR, then.âÂ
âIâll double your bonus pay if you let me court you for three months.â
âCourt me?â Youâre laughing at him again. He eats it up, savors it, lets it settle on his tongue and warm his insides.Â
âIf youâre so convinced Iâd be horrible and only prove you right, wouldnât you jump at the chance to make some easy money?âÂ
Heâs trying to bait you into accepting; you know it. You also know that nothing from Gojo comes easy. He makes it entirely too convenient to forget that heâs razor sharp and cutthroat, the things he needs to be in order to remain on top of the finance scene, but heâs always joking, always teasing, that it feels like he almost doesnât like being taken seriously.Â
âLike I said, I donât deal with men with commitment issues.â
There was a brief moment in time where you considered going out with Gojo. The two of you have always been rotating in the same social circles, way back to your high school and university days. You donât shame him for having casual sex because Gojo is genuinely sweet when he wants to be, and you know that everyone heâs ever fucked has done so more than willingly, probably too eagerly. They all get broken up over the fact that Gojo never wants to actually enter into a relationship with them, and itâs probably because they chose not to take him seriously. He has a bad habit of spitting out the truth but presenting it like some sort of joke. A guy shouldnât take you out to a nice dinner and make you cum twice before even thinking about himself if he doesnât want a girl to fall in love with him.Â
For as long as youâve known Gojo, heâs never dated once. Never a high school sweetheart or a tumultuous college relationship bound for disappointment and a messy breakup. Even now, he doesnât follow the example of the other men in positions of power like him, who pursue doe-eyed college girls to shower with affection and trap into manipulative relationships.Â
Heâs cute and funny and would treat you right, but you canât deal with the embarrassment of having someone only for one night or two, only to have them do the same thing they did with you, just with someone else. It would feel like a mockery. Your pride doesnât give you room to give in to Gojoâs charm.
âIs that really your only stipulation?â He shrugs, like this is something insignificant, and youâre being so silly. âIâll stay committed to you for the entire duration of the bet.âÂ
You narrow your eyes. âYou need to keep your dick wet at all times. Iâm pretty sure you die if you donât get off at least once a day.âÂ
Utahime coughs, but it sounds too much like a laugh.Â
âTrue, but I bet youâd be great at keeping me alive.âÂ
Oh, he is definitely getting sent to HR.
âSo you want me to believe in love, and youâre convinced you can do this by the time bonus season rolls around, which is only three months.â Youâre entering business mode, rearranging the facts and coming up with strategies in your head. Satoru never thought that someone thinking could be so attractive, but here he is, and here you are.Â
âIâll agree to participate, but only if you can handle what I consider to be proper courting.â
âWhat does that consist of?â Heâs got you, hook, line, and sinker. Thereâs nothing Satoru Gojo cannot accomplish. Heâs built up his own wildly successful private equity firm, doubling his familyâs fortune. He graduated top of his class. He gives every girl heâs ever been with consecutive, mind blowing orgasms using just his tongue and two fingers. Thereâs nothing you could possibly say that his natural talents and money canât handle.Â
âNo sex. No kissing. No touching.â You lean back in your chair, looking far too smug.Â
âDone.âÂ
He doesnât even have to think about agreeing, but you falter, just for a second.Â
âReally?â
âWhy are you looking at me like that?âÂ
âItâs not just you saying no to sex with me, but sex in general.â You pause, trying to spot when the realization of the severity of his situation is. When he doesnât give you a reaction, just still continuing to tilt his head in mild amusement, you continue. âYou canât flirt or take anyone else on a date, and you definitely canât fuck them, either.âÂ
âYes, Iâm aware.âÂ
âYouâre going to regret this.â You huff, certain that Gojo is dumber than you thought. He might think this is all fun and games now, but when heâs pent up and unable to get off, youâre certain youâre going to receive a text from him forfeiting the bet altogether. It shouldnât bother you that he acts like your addition to the bet is easy, because his failure means your pockets get fatter, but itâs no fun playing games when someone isnât ready to fully play to win.
âHmm. Weâll see.â He says, shoving his hands in his pockets. âMake sure to finish going over all the analystsâ slide decks because Iâm taking you out tomorrow night.âÂ
The timer for the bet starts tomorrow, then.


Satoru thinks itâs cute that you thought you had him there, dangling sex like heâs some barbarian who canât survive without it. Sure, fucking is fun, and sure, youâre definitely denying yourself of some of the greatest experiences you could have had, but he uses his brain more than his dick.Â
If any girl is worth going celibate for, itâd be you.
Sitting in his office, he canât concentrate on his work. He doesnât know why it bothers him so much that you think not having access to your body would be enough to turn him away. Either you really do think heâs a sex addict, or the men youâve been with arenât as great as they appear to be. Itâs probably a mixture of both, but this conclusion doesnât make him any happier.Â
Neither does having Suguru saunter into his office, without knocking. Just walks in, like he owns the place. And with his fifty-percent ownership of the firm, and his last name right next to Gojoâs on the building, he kind of does.
âHR is going to have a field day with you,â his best friend says in exchange for a greeting. Satoru would have preferred a hello.
âHR is in charge of the payroll that I fund,â is Satoruâs retort.Â
âOnly you would force an employee into a childish bet instead of asking her out like a normal person.â
âDidnât force her.â Satoru conveniently doesnât acknowledge the latter half of his statement.
âDidnât really give her much choice, either.â Suguru smiles. âShit, even Iâd deal with your ass for two hundred grand more.âÂ
âWell, unfortunately for you, Iâm committed to one woman only.âÂ
âGod help her.â And then, after taking a second to think, Suguru continues. âActually, if He really cared, He wouldnât have kept leading her to the same places as you.âÂ
âMaybe Iâm her blessing.âÂ
No one in the office knows why Suguru is laughing so hard behind Gojoâs closed door.

âThereâs no way this is legal,â Utahime tells you, taking a sip out of her iced matcha latte before continuing on her half-lecture/half-rant. âGojo needs to be behind bars.â
A bit dramatic, all things considered. Itâs not like Gojoâs comments even make the list for sleazy things male coworkers have said to you before, and youâre not entirely innocent, either. You like to poke and prod at him because itâs fun, and you know that Gojo can take it.Â
Utahime does not respect Gojo, but she does like him enough to tolerate him. Theyâre like brother and sister, so much so that one time, someone made an offhand comment about how they should just fuck to get rid of their antagonism towards each other, and they both threw up because they were so disgusted.Â
âIt is a bit inappropriate,â Nanami comments, and you know heâs right because when has Nanami ever been wrong?
Granted, Nanami must have been wrong sometime in his life. He started out with a similar background as everyone else working in the firm. He landed an internship and then a return offer in investment banking, despised it, pursued academia, and was halfway done with a PhD program in economics before he decided to come back and work for Gojo and Geto. He doesnât tell anyone why he came back, and no one is close enough with him to ask and expect an honest answer.
Nanami having lunch with you is a treat because he prefers avoiding everyone in the office, so it almost feels like youâve won a coveted prize, one to show off whenever you get back to the office. He likes to keep to himself, but even heâs only human. The interest in your little bet with Gojo is harbored by him, too, same as everyone else whoâs heard about it.Â
You should feel embarrassed about having your life so publicly known, but finance is a small, incestual pool. Everyone working within it knows each other, has fucked each other, and will continue to exclusively hate and love only each other. Itâs a bit cultish, if you think about it, so you try not to focus on the social aspects of the job.Â
âItâs not like Iâm on his team or anything. I technically only handle deals managed by Geto.â You say this in defense of yourself, as if it changes the morality and ethics of the whole bet. It doesnât, but the attempt doesnât go unnoticed.Â
âGeto and Gojo are essentially two halves of the same whole.â Utahime replies. âGeto just has more public decency training.âÂ
âYouâre telling me that you can see Geto betting someone that he can make her fall in love with him in three months?âÂ
âNo. Heâs not as audacious. I like Geto, heâs very cautious.â Nanami looks thoughtful for a second. âHe would bet six months, just to be safe.âÂ

Satoru knows that heâs screwed the moment youâre being introduced as the newest student in his class. School started two weeks ago, so everythingâs already been settled. Everything important, that is, so the hottest girl in class has been established, along with whoâs going to be relentlessly bullied, and who everyone is going to cheat off of. He has different routes mapped out for getting to class, depending on his mood and who heâs trying to avoid, along with a new secret hiding spot that heâs not going to share with anyone, except for Suguru, and maybe Shoko.Â
He likes that heâs already gotten all this shit dealt with so he can spend the rest of the year relaxing, but heâs watching you as youâre standing in front of the class, talking to the teacher and then introducing yourself.
The first thing he notices is that the ugly school uniforms are decidedly not ugly. He comes to this startling conclusion when the boxy, starchy white button-up shirt doesnât look like cardboard on you, and that the gray wool of your skirt doesnât wash you out.Â
The next thing he notices is that you speak differently than any of the other teenage girls heâs dealt with, save for Utahime and Shoko. Shoko has no issue with speaking her mind, and if Satoru presses enough buttons with enough pressure, he can get Utahime to curse like a sailor. He spaces his aggressions out accordingly, so that way when she does blow up in his face, she does it in the presence of an adult. You introduce yourself confidently; there is nothing shy or meek about you, even though standing in front of a bunch of disinterested teens â your strange new peers for the rest of your high school years â should be anxiety inducing.Â
Then, you take the empty seat next to him like it belongs to you, and Satoru is starting to think that maybe it does, that maybe it always has.Â
(Well, Suguru is sick today, thatâs why the seat was available.)
Anyway, all of his carefully laid out plans are now tossed out the window. He needs to figure out what route you take to get around, and what the rest of your class schedule looks like, and maybe itâs just him, but the former hottest girl in school has now been demoted to second-best.Â
He feels a shift in the air, like the universe is trying to signal major change in his life, and rather than run away from it, Satoru settles into his seat, noticing how youâre not even giving him the time of day.Â
Thereâs an unfamiliar feeling rising inside of him; something that says youâre going to constantly knock him off-balance andâ
âhe kinda likes it.
#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x reader#fluff#one shot#jjk x reader#smut#fic series: balancing act
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