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d1stalker · 11 months ago

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The Feeling's Mutual | Part One

[Logan Howlett x Mutant!Reader]

Summary: If somebody told you a week ago that you were a mutant, being stalked, and would be teaming up with an annoying, grumbly bastard, you probably would have laughed in their face. Too bad that was last week, because here you are, in that very situation, wondering how in the world things escalated so quickly.

PART TWO PART THREE FINAL PART

Warnings: fem!reader, canon-level violence, reluctant alliance, bickering, not exactly enemies-to-lovers but they don't rly get along, it's gonna be a slow burn y'all WC: 5.7k - MASTERLIST - A/N: If you saw me post this earlier, no you didn't 🤫 i added more hehe

You’ve never been so confused in your entire life.

It all started last week—when you were walking to the grocery store. Just an ordinary day, nothing special about it. You had a list in your hand, some cash in your pocket, and thoughts of what to cook for dinner running through your mind. The route you took had you winding down the usual streets of your neighbourhood, and that’s when you noticed him.

Something about him was different, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on what it was that made you think that. Perhaps it was the way his eyes followed you, stalking you, like a predator its prey.

At first, you thought it might be a coincidence. Maybe he was just another person going about his day, heading in the same direction as you. People share paths all the time; there was no reason to suspect anything sinister, right? But as you continued walking, a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach told you something was off. You decided to test it, making a sudden turn down a side street, one you usually never take.

The street was quieter, less foot traffic, and the late afternoon shadows were starting to stretch across the pavement. You glanced over your shoulder, and there he was, still a few steps behind, his gaze remaining locked onto you with a focus that sent a shiver down your spine. Quickening your pace, you felt an almost paralyzing fear.

This wasn’t just a shared route.

The more you turned, the more you weaved through unfamiliar streets, the more persistent he became. He never faltered, never hesitated, always keeping just close enough to let you know he was there.

Finally, you reached the store, breathing in short, panicked gasps, your eyes flitting around. You ducked inside, hiding the fluorescent lights and bustling aisles. You tried to calm yourself, telling yourself it was nothing, that you were being paranoid. After all, what were the odds? Maybe he’d walk past, maybe he wasn’t even following you. You spent longer than usual picking up items you didn’t need, giving him time to disappear.

But when you walked back outside, bags in hand, you saw him again. He wasn’t right at the door, but still, close enough—across the street, half-hidden in the shadow of another building, watching. His eyes locked with yours once more, and you froze, the plastic handles of the grocery bags digging into your palms as your grip tightened in fear. He didn’t move, didn’t smile or sneer, just stood there, silent.

You rushed home, not even bothering to see if he was tracking you down, too scared to find out the answer. Your mind was racing with a million thoughts. Who was he? What did he want? You didn’t sleep much that night, jumping at every creak and groan the apartment made, the image of that man’s cold stare burned into your mind.

The next day, you told yourself it was nothing, a one-time thing, just some creep who had too much time on his hands. A pervert, possibly.

But happened again. A different man this time, but with the same unnerving intensity. He followed you the same way, mute and relentless, through the streets, to the store, and back home.

Then the day after that, and that, and that. They didn’t approach you directly, just followed, watched, waited. It was like a game, one that you didn’t know the rules to, and the stakes felt like they were getting higher and higher and more time passed. Whenever you stepped outside, you felt their eyes on you, felt their presence lurking just out of sight. It was terrifying.

The fear gnawed at you, growing with each passing day, until it became impossible to ignore. You started taking different routes, avoiding your usual stores, changing your routine as much as you could. Still, no matter what you did, they always found you.

Soon it changed—no longer just silent stalking. One night, as you were walking home, one of the men stepped out from the shadows and blocked your path. His presence was oppressive, the way he stood there, so still, so certain of his power over you. You had no idea what he wanted, but you knew it whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“Why are you following me?” you demanded, trying to muster up all the courage you could, voice shaking slightly despite your attempt to sound strong.

“Because we were told to,” the man said, his voice cold and emotionless. There was no malice, no pleasure in his words, just a chilling matter-of-factness. “You’re coming with us.”

Panic surged through you, a primal instinct to run, to fight, to do anything but comply. You refused to show it, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you spat back, hoping your defiance would be enough to make him reconsider.

His eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing in them, and before you could react, he lunged at you, his fist swinging with brutal intent. Time seemed to slow as you saw the blow coming, your mind racing, but your body moving almost on instinct. You raised your arms to defend yourself, bracing for the crushing impact that would follow.

You couldn’t explain what happened next. When his fist connected with your arm, the force that should have sent you to the ground, left you unscathed. Instead, it was the man who staggered back, a look of shock and pain twisting his features. He clutched his hand, wincing as if he had struck something far harder than just flesh and bone.

You stared at him, bewildered, before glancing down at your own arm in disbelief. There was no pain, no bruise, nothing to indicate that you’d just been hit. It was as if his attack had bounced off of you, like you were made of steel.

Had you really just blocked that hit? And why did it feel like… nothing?

Before you could process what had happened, before the realization could fully take root, another man appeared out of nowhere, moving with a speed that blurred the edges of his form. Mutant. He was faster than the first, more determined, and this time, you felt your heart stop as he came at you from behind, his hands outstretched to grab you.

But something in you reacted faster than your fear. You twisted out of his grip with lightning speed, with movements so fluid and precise, it was as if your body knew exactly what to do, even if your brain was struggling to keep up. You sidestepped his attack, narrowly avoiding his grasp, and found yourself behind him, safe for the moment.

“What the hell?” you muttered under your breath, your heart pounding in your chest. How did you move like that? How had you known where to go, how to dodge?

There was no time to dwell on it. The fight intensified in an instant, the two men coming at you one after another, relentless in their assault. They weren’t holding back, and suddenly neither were you. You moved like a force of nature, dodging their attacks, striking back when you could. Each punch you threw landed with a power that surprised even you. You watched in stunned disbelief as one of the men crumpled to the ground after a single blow, his eyes rolling back as if he’d been hit by a truck.

You are not a gym regular. In fact, you hadn’t worked out in weeks. You weren’t strong, not like this. So how was it possible that your punches were so devastating, that each one seemed to carry a weight far beyond what you’d ever imagined?

Then, with a flick of his wrist, the first mutant, conjured a ball of fire in his hand, the flames crackling and roaring, craving something to burn. He hurled it at you, the fireball spinning through the air with only one target in mind.

You barely had time to scream as the flames engulfed your arm, the searing heat burning through your skin. The pain was unbearable, a white-hot agony that made you gasp and stumble back. You expected to see your skin blackened, blistered, ruined.

And it was.

For a minute.

To your shock—or horror—you looked down, breath catching in your throat as you watched the burn heal right before your eyes. The charred skin knitted back together in seconds, smooth and unblemished, as if nothing had happened at all.

What the fuck?

It was in that moment that the truth hit you, like a thunderclap in your mind. You weren’t just an ordinary person caught in a nightmare. You were a mutant, with powers that had only now revealed themselves, right when you needed them most.

The men kept coming, but now you fought with a new understanding. Each punch, each dodge, each rapid movement felt more controlled, more intentional, your gym class self-defence courses coming in clutch. You were strong, faster than you’d ever been, and you could heal—regenerate from injuries that would have left others incapacitated.

Finally, the two men laid groaning on the ground, defeated. You stood there, panting, your mind spinning as you tried to make sense of it all. Super strength, super speed, regeneration… these powers, they were yours. And they had just saved your life.

But as the adrenaline began to fade, confusion set in. What did these men want with you? Why had they gone to such lengths to provoke you? To make you discover what you were capable of?

All you knew was that one thing was clear: this was far from over. Whoever had sent these men wouldn’t stop here. They knew what you were now, and that meant they’d come after you again. You weren’t just an ordinary person anymore. You were something else, something powerful. And that put a target on your back.

Whatever was coming next, you needed to be ready.

----

That’s how you found yourself here, one week later, crouched on the apartment rooftop, the cold wind nipping at your exposed skin. The dark streets below are eerily silent, save for the distant hum of traffic. You sense them before you see them—another group of male mutants, closing in on your position. You grip the hilt of your knife tighter, feeling the now-familiar twinge of anger and frustration settle in your chest. This is the fifth group tonight. They’ve been hunting you in groups for days now, their numbers increasing as each one goes by, and you’re tired of it.

You’ve started to get used to your new powers—testing your limits, pushing yourself harder with each confrontation. What started as simple self-defence, a punch here, a dodge there, has escalated into something far more lethal.

You didn’t want to kill, didn’t want to by use your sharpest kitchen knife (your only kitchen knife) as a weapon, but as the attacks became more violent, you found yourself with little to no choice.

These mutants weren’t holding back, and neither could you.

Within a week, you went from the most average person in the world to what some people might call a vigilante—except you're really only trying to save your own skin.

Leaping off the roof, you land silently behind them. The speed at which you move is almost dizzying, your body a blur as you close the distance in the blink of an eye.

“Looking for someone?” you call out sarcastically.

They turn, eyes widening in surprise, but you’re already moving. Your blade sings through the air, striking true, as you move like a shadow, taking them down one by one. It’s not easy—these guys are tough—but you’ve become tougher. With each strike, you can feel your strength surging, far beyond what should be possible. One of the mutants tries to block you, creating a forcefield, but you grab the edges before it can fully form, and break through it, the temporary pain vanishing as quick as it came. A solid kick to his face, and he crumples to the ground, unconscious before he even realizes it.

“Is this what you wanted?!” you shout, your voice echoing through the empty street as the last attacker falls to the ground, groaning in pain. “Is this what you came for?!”

The answer doesn’t come from them. Rather, it comes from a low growl behind you.

You whirl around, heart racing, and there he is—Logan Howlett—the Wolverine himself. The man you’ve read about in every article, every piece of mutant-related news you could get your hands on since discovering your own abilities. He’s infamous, pretty much a legend, and the stories about him are as terrifying as they are fascinating.

Standing there with that scowl on his face, he looks every bit the dangerous figure you’ve imagined. His eyes are blank, calculating, and you can feel the weight of his gaze as it sizes you up. There’s a tension in the air, thick and suffocating, as he takes a step closer.

“So, you’re the one causing all this trouble,” Logan states gruffly, irritation coating his tongue. He unsheathes his claws, the adamantium glimmering under the streetlights. The sound is unmistakable, and it sends shivers down your spine. “Heard you’ve been killin’ off mutants left and right.”

You narrow your eyes, instinctively stepping back into a defensive stance. Your heart is pounding, but you can't show any weakness.

“Funny, I thought the same about you, Wolverine. What’s the matter? Run out of bad guys to play hero with?”

Without warning, he charges at you, claws outstretched, but you’re ready. You dart to the side, your speed giving you an edge as his claws slice through the air where you’d been standing, making a woosh sound. You counter with a swift kick to his ribs, putting your enhanced strength into the blow. He grunts, stumbling slightly, but quickly regains his balance. The momentary advantage you gained is gone as he storms toward you once more.

You meet his attacks head-on, your blade clashing with his claws in a shower of sparks. The force of each impact reverberates through your arms, but you hold your ground, refusing to back down. His attacks are ferocious, a whirlwind of claws and fury. He's fast, but you’re faster, dodging and weaving with a precision that keeps you just out of reach.

“Look, sweetheart,” he growls between strikes, his frustration evident. “You can make this easy or hard. I don’t care which, but I’m not lettin’ you hurt anyone else.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you deflect another swipe of his claws. “Oh, please. You think I’m the bad guy here? These jerks have been coming after me for days. I’m just defending myself.”

Logan doesn’t look convinced, and that pisses you off more than anything. “Right. And I’m supposed to believe you, why? You’re leavin’ a trail of bodies behind you.”

You narrow your eyes, feeling the anger boil over. “Because I’m not the one who started this! They did! But of course, you wouldn’t know that, would you? You just show up, swinging your claws around like you’re the big savior.”

“You got a mouth on you, don’t ya?” He retorts, snarling as he charges at you again, faster this time. You barely have time to block his attack, the force of his blow sending you skidding back several feet. But you dig your heels in, refusing to give an inch as he continues plows forward. Your speed kicks in, allowing you to duck under his next swing and land a punch to his jaw.

He staggers, but quickly recovers, swiping at you with renewed fury. You're a bit sloppy compared to him, not as much of a seasoned fighter. His claws swipe at your arm, cutting deep and drawing blood, but the wound heals almost instantly, the skin closing up as if it had never been cut. You see the flicker of surprise in his eyes, but it doesn’t slow him down. He lunges again, becoming a blur of motion as he ups the ante.

You parry with your knife, but this time, you’re on the offensive. You launch a rapid series of attacks, your speed and strength managing to drive him back. In the rush of movement, you're able to see an opening, grasping his shoulder and shoving him hard, sending him crashing into a nearby wall. The impact is enough to crack the brick, but Logan just shakes it off, pushing himself back to his feet.

“Gotta say,” you huff, panting slightly from the exertion, “I’m a little disappointed. I expected more from the you, after all I’ve heard.”

Logan grunts, clearly fed up with the banter. “I'm done talking.”

He lunges at you again, and this time, it’s a battle of wills as much as it is of skill. You don't back down, your knife clashing with his claws in a series of rapid, brutal strikes. The alleyway becomes a blur of movement, metal against metal, strength against strength. Each time his claws find their mark, your regenerative abilities kick in, healing the wounds almost as quickly as they’re made.

And for a moment, you wonder if you’ll have to kill him too, just to survive. But then something shifts. Maybe it’s the way your attacks grow weaker, less lethal. Or maybe it’s the way Logan’s eyes narrow in realization when he notices your hesitance.

“Wait a damn minute,” Logan says, stepping back just out of your reach, wiping his mouth, then spitting on the ground. He’s breathing hard, just like you. “You’re holdin’ back.”

He pauses, his eyes narrowing as they flick down to the knife you’ve been holding, and then back up to you. His expression shifts, a mix of disbelief and exasperation crossing his face. “And is that a kitchen knife?”

You glance down at the knife in your hand, realizing how absurd it must look in the middle of this intense fight. It’s not exactly standard combat gear, but it’s all you had when this started. You can’t help the smirk that pulls at your lips as you meet his gaze again.

“It gets the job done,” you quip, shrugging slightly.

He shakes his head, clearly not impressed. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I'm choosing to take that as a compliment,” The sarcasm is practically oozing off of you.

He eyes you warily, his posture still tense. “You’re not makin’ this easy, you know. You got me here thinkin’ you’re some crazed mutant killer, but you’re just a girl wavin’ around a kitchen knife like you’re in a bad horror movie.”

You cross your arms. “Well, I didn’t exactly have time to hit up a weapons store. Besides, I didn’t ask for any of this. These guys came after me first.”

Logan studies you. “So you say. But you’re killing dozens of mutants. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘innocent.’”

“Trust me, if I had a choice, I wouldn’t be doing this–fighting… killing–at all. Hell, I didn’t even know I was a mutant until some guy swung his fist at me a week ago.” You meet his gaze, challenging him. “And what about you? You’re not exactly known for playing nice.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well, most of my casualties are from the missions I go on, so I'd say it's justified.”

Your eyes narrow, catching the implication in his words. “Oh, am I your mission now? How long have you been tracking me?”

Logan’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a slight shift in his posture, a subtle acknowledgment that you’ve hit on something. “Long enough to know you’re not just some innocent bystander caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“So, what? You’ve been watching me, waiting for me to screw up so you could take me down?” you demand, the frustration clear in your voice.

“Something like that,” he replies gruffly, “But from what I’ve seen, you’re more reactive than proactive," he looks you up and down. "I can’t seem figure out if you’re the real threat here, or just someone caught in the middle of a bigger mess.”

You let out a slow breath, trying to calm the fiery anger rising within you. “I told you, I didn’t start this. They did. I’m just trying to survive.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, teeth grinding as he considers your words. You can see the gears turning in his head, trying to piece together whether you’re telling the truth or just playing him. He takes a step closer, his claws still out but not as threatening as before.

Finally, he asks, “You got a name?”

You roll your eyes, exasperated. “No shit I have a name.”

Logan huffs, unimpressed by your attitude. “Well, if you’re not gonna tell me, I’m just gonna have to call you somethin’… How 'bout Knifey?”

You stare at him, half-expecting him to crack a smile, but he’s dead serious. “Knifey? Really?”

Logan shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he eyes your weapon of choice again. “Fits, don’t you think?”

“Fine. I’ll tell you my name, alright? Anything but Knifey.” You say, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“... Gotta say, Knifey sounds a little better”

“Shut the fuck up, Wolverine”

“It’s Logan, actually.”

You release a deep sigh. “I know, and I don’t care. I’m telling you I am not the one you need to be going after.”

Logan scoffs, crossing his arms. “I’ve been around a long time. Seen my fair share of people who think they’re doin’ the right thing and end up doin’ a hell of a lot of damage. So, forgive me if I’m a little skeptical.”

“You would know a lot about that, wouldn’t you?” The words come out of your mouth before you had time to think about them, and you regret it immediately. You can see the mutant in front of you’s face darken to a degree bordering murderous, and you think you’ve crossed a line you can’t come back from. Whatever playful banter existed before this is gone.

“Careful,” He growls menacingly, “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

You swallow hard. The Wolverine is infamous for a reason, and you just poked at the beast beneath the surface. You briefly consider backing down, but your pride refuses to let you.

“Maybe I don’t,” you admit, “But I do know what it’s like to be hunted, to have no choice but to fight back. So yeah, maybe we’re more alike than you think.”

Logan’s glare softens just a fraction, and he lets out a long, frustrated breath. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do ya?”

“Not when I’m trying to make a point,” you retort.

He doesn’t respond immediately, just stares at you, as if he’s trying to decide whether to continue this conversation or end it with his claws. Ultimately, he shakes his head, the anger in his eyes dimming, replaced by something more akin to weary resignation.

“Fine,” he mutters. “Maybe you’re not the one I should be takin’ down. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna start trustin’ you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” you reply, feeling a bit of relief that the situation isn’t about to escalate into another fight. “But I swear, there’s someone else out there pulling the strings. And I’m not sticking around to be their puppet.”

He nods slowly, crossing his arms again. “We’ll find out who’s behind this, but I’m callin’ the shots. You step outta line, and we’re gonna have a problem.”

You smirk, a little of your bravado returning. “I’ll try not to disappoint you, Logan.”

You can tell he doesn't appreciate your attitude, but he lets it slide. “Let’s get one thing straight. This ain’t a partnership. I’m doin’ this to figure out what the hell’s goin’ on, not because I like you.”

“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual,” you shoot back, though there’s no real heat behind your words.

Logan turns abruptly, not even bothering to beckon you with him.

It makes you roll your eyes but you fall in step beside him anyway, knowing that despite the rocky start, this uneasy alliance might be the only thing keeping you alive.

“…So… where exactly are we going?”

He sends you a sidelong glance. "Who said I’m takin’ you anywhere?"

You throw your hands up, exasperated. "Well, if you don’t, these mutants are going to keep hunting me, and I’m going to keep killing them…” you shoot him a look, batting your eyelashes innocently. “You wouldn't want that, would you?"

“Fuck off”

"Well, too late for that now."

He grumbles something under his breath that you don’t quite catch, but it sounds a lot like cursing his bad luck.

"We’re headin’ to my place. It’s the safest spot right now."

----

Turn’s out, it’s not really his place. Or at least, it’s what you’d thought it’d be. It’s more of an abandoned warehouse that he just decided to seek refuge in one day, doing the bare minimum to make it feel at the very least, home-y. The heavy metal doors creak open, revealing a chaotic interior cluttered with garbage, old newspapers, and a few scattered items. In the corner, a single bed and a sagging couch that look like they’ve definitely seen better days.

Your nose wrinkles in disgust as you take in the mess. "Seriously?" you mutter, your voice tinged with disbelief. "This is where you've been hiding out? It looks like a tornado hit a thrift store."

Logan, who had been trailing behind you, lets out a low grunt as he shuffles past, not bothering to respond to your jab. His heavy footsteps echo in the otherwise silent space, the sound bouncing off the bare, cold walls. He heads straight for a small, battered table that looks like it's one sharp nudge away from collapsing. On it lies a worn notebook, its pages yellowed and curling at the edges, evidence of extensive use. Without a word, he picks it up and starts flipping through the pages, his expression unreadable.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you step closer, peering over his shoulder. "What's this?" you ask, reaching out to take the notebook from him. He hesitates for a brief moment before relinquishing it into your hands. As you flip through the pages, your eyes widen in shock. The notes are detailed, almost obsessively so, listing the names of various mutants, their abilities, and the exact locations where their bodies were found.

"Oh, great," you say with a sarcastic, half-hearted laugh. "You've been keeping tabs on me. What kind of creepy stalker are you?”

He rolls his eyes and snatches the notebook back, his voice dripping with irritation. "I wasn’t exactly tracking you. I was trying to track whoever’s been killing all those damn mutants."

Logan’s jaw tightens as you just continue to stare, and he lets out an exasperated sigh. "And don’t act all innocent. I needed to know who was causing all the chaos."

Scoffing, you continue to look through the notebook, stopping when you come across a particularly detailed entry. "Wow... 26 kills? Not too shabby for an amateur mutant, huh?"

“Is your mouth unable to stay shut?” he questions, though you know better than to answer that.

The notebook flops back onto the table with a casual flick of your wrist. "Hey, don’t be mad just because I’m doing a better job than you expected."

He crosses his arms over his chest, his muscles straining against the fabric of his shirt. "I’m not mad," he snaps. "I’m annoyed that you’re making light of this. It’s not exactly a high score to brag about."

"Oh, come on. You’re the one who turned this place into a shrine to my success” you smirk.

"It’s not a shrine," Logan growls, his patience wearing thin. "It’s a record. If you’d been paying more attention to what’s going on, you’d know that."

The playfulness fades from your face as his words hit home. He’s right, but you’re not about to admit it. Instead, you deflect. "Yeah, and if you’d bothered to talk to me instead of playing detective, maybe we’d have figured this out sooner."

"You think you’re the only one who’s had a rough time? This whole situation is a mess, and we’re both caught in it." His eyes narrow.

You cross your arms, mirroring his defensive posture. "You didn’t have to get involved, you know. Unless...what if you’re the bad guy here?" you challenge, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. "Using all these mutants to lure me into your dungeon under the pretense of trying to ‘stop’ me?"

His response is immediate. "I’m way too lazy to think of doing all that."

You can’t help but believe him, especially given the state of the warehouse. He clearly lacks the energy—or the interest—to tidy up his living space, let alone mastermind a complex plot. You let out a sigh and walk over to the sagging couch in the corner. The fabric is threadbare, and the springs groan in protest as you flop down onto it.

"Fine, fine... I trust you," you concede, though your tone is far from serious. "Did you notice anything specific amongst these mutants?"

"Yeah, I’ve noticed somethin’,” Logan says, dragging a hand down his face, now looking more tired than ever. “They’re all pretty low-key. Not exactly top-tier in the mutant rankings. Never caused any trouble before, yadda yadda. If anything, they’re usually on the weaker side."

You furrow your brows, intrigued. "So they’re not a serious threat."

"Exactly," Logan confirms with a nod. "It’s weird. These mutants aren’t the type to just go around being fuckin’ annoying like they have been. Someone—or something—must be pushing them into this."

"You think they’re all being controlled somehow?" you muse, the pieces slowly falling into place. "And that’s why they’re suddenly acting out of character?"

"Seems like it," He replies, rubbing his temples. "Must be powerful if they’re all falling in line like this. We’re going to have to dig deeper to find the source of it.

He moves to sit next to you on the couch, the worn fabric sinking even further under his weight. "Tell me everything you know," Logan says quietly, his voice a tinge softer now, almost coaxing. "Everything that’s happened to you."

You sigh and lean back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling as you start to recount your experience. "It all began about a week ago. Just a normal day, I was walking to the grocery store, then I noticed this guy following me. At first, I thought it was a coincidence. But no matter where I went, he was always a few steps behind."

His attention sharpens, his gaze locking onto yours. "And?"

"It started as just stalking," you continue, your voice growing quieter as the memories flood back. "Nothing violent. But then, it started happening with different people. Each time, they were more persistent, more intimidating. It became clear that something was off."

You can feel Logan’s gaze burning into you, his concern evident in the way he leans closer, listening intently. "Eventually, they started getting aggressive," you say. "One night, one of them blocked my path and tried to grab me. I managed to fight him off, but when he hit me, it didn’t hurt. I mean, it should have, he looked pretty strong, but my arm felt fine. That’s when I realized I had powers—some form of super strength, super speed, and healing abilities."

"And you figured that out just from fighting them off?" he questions, somewhat impressed.

You nod, rubbing your arms as if to ward off a lingering chill. "Yeah. I didn’t really have a choice. They kept coming, and I had to use whatever I had to protect myself—including my damn kitchen knife. The more I fought, the more I understood what I could do.”

Logan pauses, his expression unreadable as he processes everything you’ve said. The dim light from the single bulb casts long shadows across the room, emphasizing the lines of fatigue etched into his face. Finally, he stands up, his movements slow and deliberate. "So, here’s the plan," he starts, his voice rough and tired. "We need to figure out exactly where these mutants are coming from. There’s gotta be a main location where they’re getting their orders or some central hub for this control."

You hum in agreement, though a part of you is reluctant to jump back into action so soon. "Alright, so how do we start tracking that down?"

His lips press into a thin line as he thinks it over. "We’ll stake out the rooftops. From up there, we can get a clear view of their movements and see if they’re converging somewhere specific. Maybe spot a pattern."

You stretch, stifling a yawn as you glance around the shabby room. "Okay, but are we doing that tonight? I’m pretty beat."

“Seriously? You want to put this off?" he accuses, face twisting in irritation.

"I’m up for it, but I’d be more effective if I’m not running on fumes. Plus, you look pretty tired yourself," you shrug.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. We’ll do it tomorrow."

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you sense his reluctance to agree. "So you agree with me," you state, not really feeling any real pride, but just wanting to push his buttons.

Logan grumbles under his breath as he starts to clear a space on the threadbare couch, which creaks loudly under even the slightest pressure. "Do you ever shut up? I’m letting you crash in my bed, aren’t I?"

You chuckle softly, watching him arrange a tattered blanket on the couch with exaggerated care. "Yeah, yeah, okay. Goodnight, old man."

"Watch it, Knifey," he mutters, settling onto the couch with a groan as the springs protest under his weight.

You roll your eyes at his choice of nickname, and with a sigh, you make your way over to the bed, which is small and far from luxurious, but it’s better than nothing. The mattress dips slightly as you climb in, and the covers are thin, barely providing any warmth. Still, exhaustion pulls at you, and you barely have time to think about what the covers smell like before sleep overtakes you.

----

pls comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the series taglist!

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mandarinmoons · 10 months ago

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Hello, how about Spencer with an outdoorsy reader. She is always on hikes and goes on long backpacking trips when he’s out of town for a case. Mostly because Spencer isn’t the hiking type.

Anyways what if when she’s just on a day trip while he’s working a local case and she finds a body. She calls him immediately and that’s when the team discovers Spencer has a girlfriend and she’s not what they expected.

I love this idea! x

The morning sun shone through the window as you were sitting by the kitchen table, admiring the dew drops on the glass and the gentle sound of the birds singing outside. It looked to be a perfect morning and with the air feeling so crisp and fresh, you were excited to go on the small hike you had been planning for the past few weeks. Work had been hectic and a little retreat to one of your favorite places was just what you needed.

After getting dressed, filling your water bottle and packing some snacks you took off to your destination. You thought about getting your boyfriend Spencer to tag along with you, but knowing how that went down last time, and that he was working, you had to enjoy the trails all by yourself this time.

“Spence, c’mon! We’re nearly there!”

You looked behind your shoulder to see how far behind Spencer was. You stopped and waited for a minute before you saw the lanky man in your view, breathing heavily and holding tightly onto the straps of his backpack.

“Hold on for a moment. I gotta…”

Spencer leans against the side of a tree, his face red and sweaty, even if he regularly chases down unsubs he’s clearly not used to hiking down these long trails.

Walking beside him, you offered your water to him, which he downed nearly half of it.

“How do you do this every week?”

“Practice my love, it takes practice.”

Chuckling to yourself at the memory, you walked ahead and took your time to admire the scenery around you.

It was nearing the end of summer and the leaves had already started to change colors and fall away from their branches, leaving them bare and withered.

Taking a few steps away from the route, you headed down your usual secret path to a small cliff that showed off a beautiful view to the town, a scene you were almost sure only you knew about.

Carefully making your way up the hill, you stopped in your tracks when you saw what seemed to be a shoe sticking out from the side of a bush.

Don’t let this be what I think it is

You were reminded of the case Spencer was working on and the details he shared with you flashed through your mind.

“Women in their late twenties to early thirties have been found dead in secluded areas, out in the woods and paths.”

You knew that with dating an FBI agent there was bound to be a moment where his work would entangle with your life, but you never expected it to happen in this way.

Slowly walking over to the foliage, your worst fears were brought to life when you saw a hand peek through the branches, covered in a crimson sheen, which was undoubtedly blood.

Trying to control your breathing, you pulled out your phone and dialed Spencer’s number. When the call connected through, your tongue went numb and you tried to figure out a way to explain your situation, which seemed impossible.

“Y/N? Y/N, are you there?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m here.”

“Sweetheart, are you okay?”

“No… no, Spencer I’m not-”, your breathing picked up and your head started to spin. You sat down on the ground to try and ground yourself a bit, breathing in and out through your nose to fight off the dizziness.

“Y/N, where are you?”

“I’m on the trail… Spencer, I think I found a body.”

The blinking lights on the police cars blinded you as you watched by the sidelines, a detective questioning you about how you made your discovery.

The longer you were questioned the more you felt the energy leave your being. Spencer took notice in your demeanor and quickly pulled you to his side as soon as the last of the questions were answered.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Tired.”

Spencer nodded and ran his palms over your arms, you weren’t cold and yet you weren’t able to stop shaking the entirety of the time you were interviewed.

“They’re about to wrap up the body and then we can go home, okay?”

Nodding as a response, Spencer guided you along to the car and let you be by yourself for a moment while he talked over details with his team.

Nearing his team mates, the last thing Spencer expected to see was a grin on some people’s faces.

“So, you and nature girl, huh?”

Derek was always one to make a quip over Spencer, which he didn’t mind, but regarding how everyone found out about this during such grim circumstances, now wasn’t the best time for jokes.

During the time Spencer was away, you managed to get comfy enough to close your eyes and get some snooze, but that was cut short by the engine being turned on and your seatbelt being clicked on.

“It’s okay, we’re going home.”

The car ride home was silent. Spencer would occasionally ask what you’d want when you arrived, but you didn’t have the energy to reply to him and simply replied back with either a nod or shake of your head.

You hadn’t felt this drained in a while. When arriving home you didn’t even have the energy to step out of the car and Spencer made his way to scoop you into his arms and carry you inside.

Inside the house, Spencer crouched down and took off your shoes for you, you looked down on him as his hands carefully undid the laces and slipped the shoes off, the gentleness making your heart clench.

“I’ll go make you some tea and we’ll lie down for a bit, how does that sound?”

Spencer looked up and his eyes met your glassy ones, tears threatening to spill at any moment.

“Oh honey,” standing up and taking you into his embrace, the tears took over and spilled over your cheeks as the distraught you faced today could no longer be hidden.

“How can anyone be that cruel?”

“I don’t know, angel.”

But that was a lie, Spencer did know how someone could be that cruel. In fact, he could list out the exact chemical reactions that needed to happen in someone’s brain in order for someone to behave in such an animalistic way, but he knew not to speak of them, at least not in this moment, because ignorance was bliss, and he did not want the only innocent miracle in his life to be tainted with the sorrows of his job, or should he say his primary life.

Taglist: @whoisspence @sreidisms @lanascinnamongirls @luvkatryna @sp3ncelle @iluvreid @khxna @keiva1000 @reidstheyfriend @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @kimm4710 @niktwazny303 @reidsdaisies @mindfullycriminal @cumulo-stratus @gayfor-rosadiaz @gubsbuubs @multifandomsimp69 @chyozai @deppfanatic @potatovoyager @indyvelazquez @nini123 @justlivinginadaydream @kers505 @dan-the-womans-blog

Note: The taglist will be discontinued at the end of the month so if you'd like to keep up to date with my latest fics then please follow me!

You can find my masterlist here!

Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

#spencer reid #spencer reid au #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid angst

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mariasont · 1 year ago

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you should do more aaron hotchner x reader but they get drunk together and they just have a make out session or something 🤫🤫

Strawberry Wine - A.H

a/n: i took this the bimbo reader route because i'm slightly obsessed with them lately so i hope you don't mind <3

thank you so much for requesting xoxo

masterlist

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: hotch is a lot more flirty when he's got some alcohol in him

warnings: kind of suggestive?, flirty hotch, making out, mutual pining

wc: 0.9k

You were vaguely aware of the dizzy sensation taking hold, your steps a little unsteady, cheeks a little more flushed. Penelope's voice, usually so clear, now sound like she was yelling from afar, her excitement over a new cooking show barely registering with you. It all faded into the background as your focus narrowed on one person alone--your boss.

Concentrating on something else was the logical choice, but logic seemed to falter in the face of such distraction. I mean, you had eyes after all.

He looked exceptionally good tonight. Jeans. He was wearing jeans and a zip up. His casual look held an irresistibility about it that you rarely got to appreciate, and now it's all you can dwell on. You could easily blame your preoccupation on a few drinks, but in all honesty, you'd be just as enthralled sober.

Your name was floating through the air, and as you turned, you saw Morgan. His grin was wide, the kind that told you he'd been trying to catch your attention for longer than you'd realized.

His eyebrows lifted, bumping against you with a shoulder as he waggled those same eyebrows. So childish. You knew what he was referring to. He was the first one to catch on to your little crush, but despite his behavior you knew he'd never divulge your secret.

You nudged him back, not realizing your own strength until you were almost toppling over. You only found your footing when you felt hands on your waist. You leaned back, assuming it was Morgan. You were wrong.

"You okay?" His voice was soft and low, a soothing sound that tempted you to both lean into him and step back in a fluster.

You glanced around, only to realize that Morgan had disappeared, leaving you with Hotch. You clamped your lips together, fighting the urge to let a stupid smile spread across your face, but the wine's influence made it challenging.

"Yes."

The room spun just a tad more as you tried to focus on Hotch, his usually sharp gaze softened just a bit more tonight.

He chuckled--a rare, perfect sound that made you tingly all over--and leaned closer. "The wine seems to be doing its job. How many glasses in are we?"

You giggled, but the sound was more like a hiccup. "I should be asking you that," you said with a lopsided smile. "But then again, I guess I mean glasses of scotch, right? You seem like a scotch over wine kind of guy."

"Do I?" His voice was rich and warm. He stepped forward, his eyes briefly flickering to where the rest of the team congregated in Rossi's kitchen. However, they seemed miles away. "You smell good."

His compliment threw you off guard, you blinked, cheeks heating up as you swayed slightly towards him, voice a bubbly stream of words you couldn't control. "You think so? It's actually this new perfume--I got it on sale, can you believe it? And the bottle is just the cutest thing, all pink and pretty."

"I bet." He was smirking. Smirking. You were pretty sure you had stumbled into an alternate reality where Hotch was not just your boss, but someone who was relaxed, almost flirtatious?

"Here," you said, pointing to the middle of your chest. You were a little breathless, "this is where I spray it."

He gave a low hum, almost inaudible, stepping in until you were toe to toe. You caught the hint of scotch on his breath--just as you had suspected--and it made the room spin a little more.

His face moved down toward your chest, and you couldn't hardly believe that he couldn't hear your heart pounding against your ribs.

You inhaled sharply, the valley of your breasts rising to graze against his nose, so lightly that it might have gone unnoticed if not for your intense focus on him.

"What do you think--?" you started to ask, but as he raised his head, your noses were nearly touching, and the rest of your sentence dissolved.

The realization of how easy it would be to kiss him struck you, tempting and terrifying all at one, and you hesitated, knowing that was one line you shouldn't cross.

But you didn't need to cross it because he obliterated the line with a kiss that thundered against your lips before you could even blink. A smile bloomed against his mouth, and you returned it full force.

It was as if you were tingly from head to toe, like fireworks were exploding all around you, like you were floating on a cloud.

You looped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, as if the space between you could vanish entirely. You felt his broad hands sweep and down your spine, your tongues vying for dominance, the rich, smoky taste of that scotch lingering in your mouth, as if you were absorbing its essence through every five senses.

It was as if you were back in high school, making out under the bleachers, hiding from the rest of your classmates. You didn't want it to end, but reality intruded like a dream dispelled.

The click of a camera snapped you back to the present, his arms still wrapped around you protectively, hands on the damning evidence.

Gathered at the window there the team was, Garcia's fingers curled around her phone, its lens aimed squarely at you. Your surprised came out as a high-pitched squeal mingled with their distance laughter and cheers. You pressed your face into the fabric of Hotch's zip up, silently pleading for the earth to open up and swallow you whole.

"Next time, we'll opt for the bathroom. Less room for an audience."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #criminal minds

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devotedsweetheart · 3 months ago

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heey i have a request, can you do a ff with caleb and mc in highschool? with just like the basketball player caleb and the pretty mc. in ao3 theres no ff abt this 😭

pd: I LOVEEEEE YOUR POSTS!!!

of course my dear anon!!! this was so fun to write, i hope this is what you had in mind :'). if not, just lmk and i'll start on writing another one;))) enjoyyy!

he had a soft spot for you. always.

regardless of how much he teased you, pushed your buttons, or made you look a fool; there would be moments of unbroken eye contact that stayed lingering, hinting at something deeper.

caleb was popular. everyone knew his name. heck, everyone knew him, he was friends with basically the whole school. except you. he does actually know of your existence though, he just refuses to acknowledge it, only when he's picking at you does he truly. you guys have known each other for your whole entire lives. going to the same exact schools together every single year without fail... it was almost like he was following you.

he promises you he dislikes you with a passion. that he couldn't stand being in the same room with you for longer than an hour, that he would do anything to get away from you; and you feel the same. he's absolutely and utterly agitating, being in his mere presence pisses you off. he makes it his life goal to make your existence as a whole miserable, doing things such as purposefully tripping you in the hallways to make his friends laugh, or kicking the back of your chair in the middle of an exam, knowing how distracted it makes you. if you even dared to do so little as turning around and shooting him a glare, he'd just grin and do it harder, more often.

little did you know, he survives off the looks you give him. it's what keeps him going.

and so, when you decide one day that you're going to ignore him for the rest of the week, he goes insane.

literally.

on day one, monday, he didnt think much of it. maybe just assuming you didnt get much sleep, or perhaps you're going through a friendship breakup, something small like that. when you dont react to his little acts of crudeness toward you he still thinks nothing of it. he just assumes you think you'll make him stop if you ignore it.

by day two, tuesday, he's still not too concerned by your silence. he's still just convinced you're ignoring him out of annoyance (...which isn't a lie), and therefore it doesnt bother him too much.

wednesday, he's confused. he has started to attempt to annoy you more than he usually would, taking it upon himself to take your same route to your classes... even if it meant he'd be tardy for his own. he wanted a reaction out of you, almost needed it. he thought about it when he woke up, staying in the back of his mind throughout the day. during the classes you had together, he'd sneak small glances at you to make sure you looked okay.

thursday, though, he'd been thinking about it all day long. it was now stuck in the front of his mind, plaguing it completely. he didnt realize how much he missed having the small banters each day with you, how easy it was to rile you up. how much he craved it. even during his after school practice, his performance was borderline terrible. it wasn't like him at all and his friends began to notice. he's usually awfully good at basketball, one of the best on the team (if not the best) and for him to be slacking this bad?? diabolical. he was making it difficult for not only him but the people surrounding him. when asked what was going on, he'd simply shrug it off and ask to go take a drink of water, trying to shrug off the thought of you as easy he did with his terrible execution of basketball.

on day five, friday, he'd actually gone insane. he couldnt focus at all during class, constantly looking over at you to try and get you to look at him. he'd been throwing himself in your paths the whole entire day, putting in an obnoxious amount of effort just to make eye contact with you; even if it was for a second.

it was so bad to the point that he went up to you at the end of the day before you got onto your bus, asking to talk.

he persisted and persisted, not caring how many times you said no.

he was ecstatic when you finally agreed.

pulling you by your limb to the end of a sidewalk where only few roamed, he let go of your forearm and turned to face you. it was awkward for a few seconds, the two of you never having a real conversation outside of bickers.

he cleared his throat.

"are you... okay?" he asks, eyes flicking to yours to see if you'd give away how you felt at his question before you verbally answered. your eyebrows raised before scrunching up again, a look of confusion written all over your face.

"um.. yes? why would you ask me that?" you answered, oblivious to just how much he cared. he looks away to a spot above your shoulder, embarrassed to stare directly into your piercing gaze.

"i don't know. you've just been, like, nonverbal.. in a way," he says, looking back into your eyes before looking down again. "it's like i pushed you too far. i don't ever mean what i say, i don't ever mean to actually hurt you."

at that, you break out into laughter, and it grabs his attention.

"you 'don't mean to hurt me?'" you point out in between cackles, adding quotation marks around the words. "what kind of joke are you trying to pull? do you understand how annoying it is to have to deal with all your bullshit all the time, caleb?"

he winces at your words, the sly grin you have plastered on your face only making it worse for him. he wishes terribly he had the balls to tell you how he feels, but not only is he scared of the feeling itself, but he's terrified of how you might react.

"i know. i know, and i apologize." he whispers.

"you apologize?"

"i apologize."

you cross your arms over your chest, one eyebrow raised as you lean into your hip. "apologize for what?"

he simply looks at you, too embarrassed to formerly say a sincere apology. instead of saying anything, he flicks his eyes between yours and sighs. "for taking you over here to talk. i just wanted to figure out what was going on and why you weren't talking to me."

you look at him with a dull shock on your features, eyes going a hint wider than they normally sit.

"i, um, didn't know you cared. you make it seem like i annoy you sooo bad so i just stopped interacting with you." you confess, hoping to actually get to him instead of getting made fun of.

his expression is almost unreadable, eyebrows drawn tight and eyes blinking rapidly. his lips are pulled into a straight line and you can tell he's having a difficult time trying to maintain eye contact.

"i.." a beat of silence, tongue flicking out to lick his lips. "i'm sorry. i'm a dick, and i know i am. if i tell you something, will you promise to not make fun of me?" he questions, swallowing thickly.

you blink up at him. "sure, go ahead." you hesitantly say, fixing yourself to stand up a smidge straighter.

he clears his throat for what feels like the thousandth time, taking a gulp of air before saying everything he's feeling in one breath.

"i've realized over this past week that you're something i look forward to when i wake up. someone i think about when i'm writing an essay, playing at a game, or even listening to music. i'm sorry for picking on you so much and i'm sorry for being a complete asshole to you. you've always been someone i've taken interest in and the only way i found that gets your attention the most is being rude to you. i know it's messed up, but i can't help it. i'm sorry."

theres a long pause of unspoken words and tension hanging between the two of you, gazes locked while your mouth hangs open; trying and failing to say something. after a moment, all you can manage is a small "wow." his face is a deep shade of red, showing just how embarrassed he is without having to say it.

"can you please say something else so this isnt so awkward." he murmurs, desperation and discomfort clearly etched into his face.

you only giggle breathily and look him deep in his eyes.

"me too, caleb. i feel the same way."

thats when he holds his breath, leaning in quickly to kiss you- not giving you time to pull away.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #lads caleb #lads #lnds caleb #lads boys #caleb x reader #lads caleb x reader #caleb x you #caleb x mc #fluff #mc lnds #anon ask

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evilminji · 9 months ago

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Hey Minji! A thought for your Star Wars things!

Who ever said the SI-OC was the only one to get dumped in SW? Just. A Creche that has several Reincarnations/Transmigrants.

Oh? My god? Just... the FIRST thing that popped into my head? Was the image of one of those "we are so Unbelievably Overworked We No Longer Fear You Nor Death" Sort of office workers/team of workers(nonspecific)?

Just... fuckin EVERYBODY knows Star Wars. Not everybody focused on the same PART of it, but the DO know it. So OBVIOUSLY? The Force decided it should bring in an A Team.

It Did Not ASK the A Team.

They are... like? 4. And sitting in a soft foam, brightly colored Creche, in their lil Jedi rompers, all sitting in a circle, looking at each other like... ( -_-) (-_- ) you too, huh?

Yeeeeeep. (God does Jerry want a cigarette. Jerry gave them up in his 20s. But he's KINDA GOING THROUGH IT, okay?!) (Sarah is hyperventilating in the corner. Her KIDS! Oh GOD. Her KIDS! She was on the way to pick them up from SOCCOR PRACTICE!!!)

Just? This whole ass team of "yeah, we know the LORE, but buddy, pal, we had LIVES! What the FUCK. Star Wars was a HOBBY!" Type adults? No one is happy and everyone wants to choke the metaphysical concept of The Force with their itty, bitty lil baby hands.

They may RIOT.

And like? Do to sheer NUMBERS? They make up ALMOST a full Creche?

Almost.

There is like... one? Maybe two? Actual Jedi Babies™ in their group? It's A Team... plus our collective children. Whom we parent. The MOST baby of babies. Also the spokesperson when they want to fool anyone into thinking they're "normal".

I want Jerry to have a fake cigarette. He's looked up death sticks and like FUCK is he putting that shit in his body, but dear LORD are the oral fixation and mental effects of a past addiction still both real, and a pain in the ASS.

If you try and TAKE his fake ass, hand made, bespoke not-a-cigarette from his itty bitty lil baby hands? He will take your KNEES. These FUCKERS won't even let him have COFFEE. Let him HAVE THIS. *hisses from the walls*

I want them to be ☆~Nightmare Children~☆

They have the power of The Force, various past life skills, an uninterrupted access to the galaxy's BIGGEST LIBRARY, close proximity to FAR too many senator AND their living spaces, and? An actual negative number of fucks to give. They can take shifts. Tag team. Be creepy, horrible, terrible, God awful nightmare creatures climbing out from your WALLS.

Somehow they keep escaping.

Down through the lower temple as they examine the hidden tunnels and escape routes. Through the vents. Forcing other jedi to become VERY familiar with where those pathways are. Sure hope THAT won't someday save your lives! Ya ungrateful, "you're grounded, stop sneaking out younglings" BASTARDS! So rude!!

The camp out in the Corrie Gaurd office. Bring the babies.

Here, you seem stressed, random gaurd. Hold a Jedi Baby. They radiate sunshine and good vibes. Are literally the Anti-Old-Man-Sith. We brought caffeine and food from the temple. Are willing to follow you around like "adorable ducklings" on patrol under the excuse that we're "training" for when we get our own soilders.

Sure is INCONVENIENT for all these asshole senators to has a witness, huh?

You gaurd my back, I'll gaurd yours. And if a certain long neck trips near the stairs? You didn't see SHIT. I'm BABY. How could I POSSIBLY have the control to do that? Now excuse me... we need to practice our "we Jedi Children can stare into your SOOOOOULS, we See All Your Sins." Wide Eyed Unblinking Predator Stare.

(O.O) (O.O) (O.O)

#minji's writing #star wars the clone wars #star wars #star wars oc #the lil bastards club au #plus baby

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uranometrias · 1 year ago

Text

✮ꜜ : ❛ now i see daylight : spencer reid x fem! reader

pairing: spencer reid x fem! reader

summary: three weeks have gone by since your last encounter with reid. you'd both been doing an exceptional job of pretending that the other didn't exist. you felt like it was only fair. he didn't have the right to talk to you any type of way, and you supposed in his mind, you didn't have the right to behave so jealously. three weeks of no ground being made, that is, of course, until a conversation with rossi helps to screw your head on straight

content warnings: love confessions. reader definitely has anxiety and a fear of romance/relationships, BUT she fights her fear! i also think it's fair to say that she views telling spencer about her feelings as facing her fear, regardless of his response! this is part two to 'guilt is a motherfucker'.... i'm so sorry it's taken forever, but i've actually preparing to enlist in the army && haven't had a lot of down time. i've got 10 drafts to prove it, but i tried my best to make this longer than part one, and i hope that you guys enjoy it.

Grow up.

Those words had haunted you for about three weeks. It'd been that long since the day you and Spencer had sort of... drifted apart. You refused to blame yourself, despite knowing full well this whole ordeal was majorly your fault. Okay, all of the blame very well rested on your shoulders, but you were stubborn. You'd been that way forever.

Maybe you were the childish, scared, and jealous little girl he'd accused you of being. That wasn't your job to figure out, because he had no business speaking to you that way. Who did he think he was? You could hit him right in his stupid little face. That last thought of violence seems to follow you.

Especially as you sat as your desk, leg bouncing furiously underneath as you counted the seconds until he was away from the kitchenette. Your cup of coffee was dwindling, and you still had a few more files to get through, before you'd give yourself room to slack off. You needed more caffeine, but the newfound thorn in your side was taking up space, using up all the sugar as he made his third cup of the day.

A more mature person might have questioned why you didn't just go up there anyway. He didn't own the kitchenette, and it wasn't like you had to say anything at all. It was meant to be cut-and-dry, you were both mature adults, you could interact as such. Except neither of you were quite as mature as you affronted. You could just picture the screwed up expression he'd offer you if you chose to approach.

You were certain your face was already twisted up, showing off your own annoyance, and he wasn't even near you.

You'd been berated by Derek, Emily, and Penelope over your petty streak, all three parties really driving in the point that you were behaving like a toddler throwing a tantrum. They had a point, but you also refused to accept any such criticism about your behavior. Partly, because you hated correction, and you didn't want to think about the possibility that all of your friends were on his side.

But you think most of your refusal to accept your part from any of them had a lot to do with the fact that they weren't the ones who'd been so callously humiliated, and they weren't the ones with feelings for someone who obviously knew, and was perfectly content flaunting such knowledge right in your face.

God, you could punt him like a football.

You needed to work on your insult creativity, these were starting to get repetitive. You shake all thoughts of assault out of your mind as Dave begins to approach your desk. Rossi wasn't stupid, he like everyone else had noticed the significant decline in attention passed between you, and Reid. But unlike the rowdier members of the team, he and JJ had elected to go the route of silent but deadly.

They'd cast the both of you disapproving looks when in rare form you'd allowed your spat to affect your job. Their clear disappointment in you exceptionally loud. Times like those were sparce, you really only ever objected obedience when Hotch insisted on partnering the both of you up. Which had luckily become much more rare in the last few weeks.

"Still pouting, angioletto?" he asks, and his ability to read right through you seems to make your pout deepen. "It's been three weeks, don't you think it's time to talk about it or move on?" he questions, and there's no judgement there. It's what you like the most about Rossi, he seemed to have fallen into the role of paternal figure incredibly well. He gave you the tough love that you often needed.

But he never disrespected your boundaries, he never went too far. He'd always say just enough to nudge you in the right direction.

"Maybe." you agree, and it's true. You know it's time to put this situation behind you in one way or another, but you refused to cave first. You didn't want to give Spencer the satisfaction of it, and once again you're made aware of just how petty you really were. "But I don't want to." you voice this thought to Dave, who offers an unamused expression. You narrow your eyes in his direction.

"He's the one that started it..." you exclaim your side for the umpteenth time. Rossi's expression doesn't morph, but there is a bit of disappointment swimming in his eyes. It makes you avert your gaze quickly, you could feel the first pinpricks of guilt slicing at you. "It's true." you insist. Rossi waves a tired hand at you, ushering you to proceed, and you find yourself grateful for the chance to vent.

Everyone else knew too much about the behind the scenes to let you get a word in edgewise. Rossi was basically a clean slate. "If he knew all along, what he thinks he knows..." you stop long enough to look towards the kitchenette. He's still there, which is a relief, you'd be pissed if somehow he managed to overhear this. "Then why would he come over here and flaunt it. Was he trying to rub it in?" you demand.

Silly you for thinking that Rossi would be any less on your ass than the rest of the team. He was David Rossi after all, one of the founders of the BAU, a smart man that could read you like a picture book. "You finished?" he asks, and your mouth parts. You weren't finished, but you don't tell him that, he looked like he was ready to lecture. You offer a curt nod, and he hums under his breath.

"What exactly were you expecting from him, Y/N?" he asks, and you blanche. You weren't expecting anything, you'd never expected anything from Spencer. "I mean just stick with me here... put yourself in his shoes for one second." he prompts, and you huff. Those were big shoes, probably uncomfortable. Still, you play along as you wait for Rossi to proceed. "Would you wait around for two years for someone to finally realize that they want to be with you?" he asks.

You hope that it's rhetorical, because the answer for you was probably a lot different than the one he was expecting. You also feel the urge to correct him, you didn't take two years to figure out you liked him, you'd known since your first day. Your issue was verbalizing it, because you cared about your bond. Spencer was nice, he was the sweetest person you'd ever met. You liked seeing him get excited about the things no one else seemed to care about. He was different.

He was your friend, and you had always admired him.

"I wasn't making him wait..." you voice the correction. "And I didn't need time to realize anything..." you trail off, and realization seems to set in for Rossi. He sighs deeply, head shaking as you continue on your tangent. "I liked him back when all the girls in the unit still looked at him like he was some freak, and I'm not saying it entitles me to anything... I'm the dummy for being a chicken, but he didn't have to be so mean." and you're certain that's the root of it all.

Your feelings were hurt.

"Ah, well haven't you heard? Boys are quite stupid." Rossi offers, and you think he only said it to get you to laugh. It works, because you do chuckle, and it makes Dave's shoulders relax just slightly. "Talk to him, Y/N." he presses, and you find yourself looking across the bullpen. "It's the right thing to do." and you know he's right. "And who knows, it might even wind up being for the best." he offers, and you blanch. You nod your head, and Rossi beams proudly.

"You're right." you agree audibly, and you're fidgeting in your chair.

"You are coming this Friday aren't you?" Rossi pries, and you've gone nonverbal, head nodding once more as he mimics your action. "See if you guys can't get this squared away before then, won't you?" he asks, and he's leaving you with a gentle pat on the shoulder. You stare after Rossi with a mixture of disdain and appreciation. Leave it to the old man to get you off your ass. Your eyes are drawn to Spencer as he draws closer, you know he's not coming to you.

It was a byproduct of your desk location, but it wouldn't hurt to use it to your advantage. When he's within earshot, you take the first step. "Spence?" you try, and you expect him to ignore you, to keep walking like the sassy bastard that he is, but he shocks you. He seems to mirror your feelings with his own surprised expression. "Can we talk?" you try, and it's the cliche thing... but you don't have it in you to be poetic. He stops abruptly, head nodding stiffly as he does so.

You feel like you need to stand up, having him stand over you feels too much like you're being cornered or something of the sort. He takes a small step back when you do so though, and the tension seems to only grow tenfold. You mask your disappointment in his retreat easily, instead standing up a bit straighter, sticking your chin out as you prepare to bite the bullet and be the bigger woman. It was utterly humiliating having to bring yourself back to Earth like this.

"Sure." he finally verbally answers your question, you take that as a cue to get on with it. Your patience for back and forth seemed almost as thin as his.

"Maybe it's three weeks too late..." you begin, and his eyebrows furrow. "And I know we've got this new rhythm of pretending we don't exist to each other," and his face betrays how wrong he finds that statement. His face pinches up like he's smelled something bad, and he wants to remind you that the only reason you hadn't spoken was because you hadn't had the guts to own up to the fact that you had feelings for him, but he digresses. He wasn't here to pick a fight.

"But, I'm sorry...." you spit the apology out and it feels hollow. You know you have to do better, so you proceed before he can shoot you a disapproving glance. "I really am." you insist, and despite the fact that you had only just begun to feel guilty about the whole thing in the last few minutes, you meant it. "I never should've acted like that, and I never should have let this go on for so long." you express.

Across the bullpen, Rossi, Penelope, Derek, and Emily are huddled up watching the exchange, not so discreetly. You're none the wiser to your growing audience, but Spencer sees them clearly. Not that they were really aiming for subtlety. "It's not my business what you do outside of work or who you do it with." and your nose curls, mostly because you want it to be your business. You want to be valid in your aggravation, more than that you wanted to be his. How annoying.

Your leg starts to shake just barely, and you look like you'll crumble to the ground at any moment. Spencer notices all of these ticks, and stores them into the part of his brain that's full of things specific to you. "So I'm sorry that I was being a jerk." you offer, and Spencer's face doesn't show any signs of whether or not he believed you, so you continue. "I'm happy for you." you clear your throat, and feel embarrassment setting in.

"Thanks, Y/N." his head tips to the right as he appraises you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes you in. It's not a menacing sort of glance. He seemed to be waiting for something else, you weren't sure what more could be put into your apology, there was no way you were about to give an outright confession, that'd be humiliating. Instead, you avert your gaze, and it seems to be enough of an answer to whatever internal question he had. "That actually means a lot."

You don't smile, mostly because you're not sure what the actually means, he seems to notice the way your expression changes just slightly, and he's quick to correct himself.

"I just mean that your approval does mean a lot to me." he says, and you relax. You can't quite beam, you're still not up for it, but you offer a small smile, one that could count more as a grimace than anything else, but you weren't in the headspace to monitor your facial expressions. You were growing bothered all over again, and you had to do everything in your power to ensure that this time things didn't end with another three-week break between you and Spencer.

"Really?"

Spencer's nose curls now, he's an expressive guy. His facials said a lot more than his words could at times, and you note that this particular expressions reads somewhere between confused and surprised. Those were almost synonyms in the grand scheme of things, right? "Is that a real question?" Spencer asks, and despite the tension that hung over you at the start of the conversation, with this question you witness the way his guard drops. It was liberating in a way.

"I asked it didn't I?" you quip, but there's no real bite behind your words. Spencer seems to note this, lips pressing together firmly.

"You're important to me." he promises, and you hate that his first reaction is to validate you. Your anxiety-riddled mind would convince you that he secretly thought you were fishing for praise, which was the farthest thing from the truth. Still, you love Spencer, platonically and otherwise, and you're certain that's why you're mimicking his words back to him so quickly.

"You're important to me too."

He takes a second to stare at you, and you stare right back. You're careful not to show any signs of timidity or awkwardness, things were finally starting to look up. "I..." he begins, and you stay silent to allow him the time he needs to get whatever was on his chest off. "I'm sorry." he says, and you're surprised. It was the last thing you'd expected from this conversation, you're certain your surprise is evident plain as day on your face.

"Yeah?" you feel it's only fair to press him onward.

"Jealous little girl." he cringes as he repeats it, and you wince because it still hurts. "That was-" he shakes his head. "It was out of line. Plain and simple, I guess I was just a little frustrated, but that's not your fault. It wasn't fair of me to come at you in that way." he begins to ramble. "I wouldn't want you to feel... mocked or belittled by me." and you blink. Mostly because that was exactly how you had felt, but how did he know. It's then that you finally feel the beady-eyed stares.

You look over your shoulder just in time to witness the group dispersing, Penelope grasping a file in her hand as she scurried in the opposite direction. Derek picking up a file folder, and Emily focusing all her attention on the drink sloshing around her mug. You really hate profilers, this is the loudest thought in your head as you turn back to Spencer. "It doesn't matter if I felt justified then, or even if I feel justified about it now." and it makes you snort.

Classic Spence.

"D-Do you forgive me? Are we okay?" he asks, and his voice has grown a bit fainter. If you listen hard enough you hear the echoes of the Spencer you first met. Even with all his strides, and the confidence he gained, there was still that small part of him that felt like the nerdy boy that everyone overlooked. The one that talked too much, and was constantly silenced with looks or snide remarks whenever he rambled for too long about some niche subject.

You think this train of thought is what gets you to see Rossi's point of view. And who were you to get in the way of someone who clearly was ready for someone as amazing as Spencer. You didn't know much about the woman, aside from the fact that she was constantly making coffee, and staring at Spencer. You didn't know how long she'd worked at the bureau, you didn't even know her name, but you knew that she was brave. She knew what she wanted and got it.

Unlike you.

You suppose 'snooze you lose' is your burden to carry from this ordeal. At least you'd gotten your friend back though. And that was enough, it could be anyway. You nod your head at his question, offering a half smile. "We're okay, Spence." you promise, and he seems relieved. His smile is one of those rare ones, the gorgeous kind that Spencer reserved for special occasions. He then visibly and audibly lets out a quiet sound of relief, and it makes you relax.

"Hey, Spence, can I get your help?" JJ is calling, and your pulled from your bubble. The world is still spinning, there's still work to do, pressing matters that needed your attention. You felt a little lighter, offering another half smile as he offers you a sheepish glance. He's heading towards JJ as you sit back down at your desk. Your leg bounces despite the perceived 'win'. It only takes you a moment to wonder why, reality sets in, and you realize your shortcomings.

You'd failed the test twice.

Twice you'd had the chance to be the most open and honest with Spencer, only to let your nerves or fear of rejection get in the way. The jealousy is gone now though, instead replaced with a brief feeling of self-aggravation. You hear Dave's stern voice in your head. 'Talk to him, Y/N.' and you frown. Hadn't that been what you'd done? You'd talked to him, so why did you still feel so bummed.

Why don't you just talk to the guy? Look him in the eye and tell him straight up how you're feeling? Derek's question from three weeks prior slaps you like a ton of bricks. You supposed that was the end goal, wasn't it? The only way to relieve yourself of all this anxiety and all the big feelings you were having a hard time digesting. You're back to pouting, mostly because you've got no idea where to start.

You pick up one of your files, and flip it open, hoping to bury yourself in work. Every time your mind tried to stray to Spencer or your feelings, you'd switch files, until all twenty-five on your desk had a dent in them. Your hand was cramped, and you know that soon enough you'll need a cup of coffee. Emily approaches your desk, hands centered as she leans forward, eyes right on you.

"So how did it go?" she asks, and you cut your eyes at her. "Tension's all gone, so it must have gone well, right?" she's grinning down at you. "I told you if you told him the truth, you'd have nothing to worry about." Emily proceeds, and you're shaking your head back and forth.

"Emily... Emily, no!" you exclaim, and her smile drops.

"No? What do you mean, no?" she demands as you exhale.

"I still haven't told him, and I'd really appreciate it, if you'd lower your voice." you hiss as she pouts. "Maybe it's just not supposed to be." you shrug, and Emily looks visibly disgruntled with your thoughts. "I'm just saying... we're okay, because we apologized." you explain. "I don't want to risk making it awkward again, because I think I have feelings." and now you're being purposely dismissive.

"Oh, so now you're not sure?" Emily questions, and then she's clicking her tongue against her teeth. "No. I don't buy that." she denies, and she's stern, but discrete. "Don't do this, Y/N. Don't be that girl." she pleads. "There's nothing worse than regret. It eats at you until there's nothing left, you don't want to look back, and think 'what if!'" and that's twice you're hearing something of the sort. Wasn't there some quote about hearing important things twice? You're not sure.

"If you like him-" she pauses, head still shaking from side to side. "If you love him... like it seems, you owe it to yourself to tell him. What's the worst thing that could happen?" she questions, and you scoff. "No, realistically." she insists. "Realistically tell me what the worst thing could be? And not from that place where your irrational fears sit." she deadpans, and you feel attacked, it makes you look away.

"In the two years of you knowing Reid, do you actually think that he's the kind of guy to break you down to nothing if he doesn't feel the same?" she asks, and the answer when presented to you like this is no. "So tell me what it is that you're really scared of?" she presses, and you don't understand why everyone's so worked up over this. Why the whole unit seemed to be invested in you expressing your feelings.

"I don't want to mess it up..." you shrug your shoulders. "I don't want to make it weird." you offer, and Emily's unmoved by your answer.

"You managed to do that without saying a thing." she retorts, and you feel like you've got no room to speak, no voice to rebuttal with. "Let me be your shrink for a second." Emily is your friend for moments like these, where her clear allegiance to you shines through. "Talk to me." she prompts.

"Why are you so invested in this?" you inquire. "Why does it even matter?" you huff.

"Because it matters to you." she answers. "What? You didn't know that's how this team works?" she asks, and you huff out a puff of air through your nose. "This isn't about us playing matchmaker... it's about you realizing that you've got a few bad beliefs about romance... and friendships.... and relationships that are going to keep you all by yourself if you don't start speaking your mind." she shrugs.

"And despite the way you curl into yourself back here at your desk, we both know you don't really want to be alone." and you think you might cry, it makes you wince. "You owe it to yourself to try, but ultimately the decision is all yours. I just think you'll feel better if you take Reid aside, and tell him the truth about how you feel." she seems done, and you don't know how to respond. Emily pats your shoulder as she rounds your desk, before heading back across the unit.

You really hate profilers.

By the time you're heading home for the night, you and Spencer hadn't spoken again. You'd been so buried in work that you'd skipped lunch to get things done. You'd gotten a comment from Hotch about that, wondering if you were feeling alright. You knew that he knew the truth, even as you told him a fib. Hotch though, was discrete enough not to make you feel scrutinized by exposing just how obvious you were. You couldn't get Emily's words out of your head.

You didn't feel angry with her, and your embarrassment had managed to go away within the first forty minutes after she'd left you alone. You knew she was right, but it still didn't make things easier. It was almost like you forgot how to speak whenever the time came to really express yourself. You supposed that was why your apology had been so flat. Feelings weren't your strong suit, and you'd learned to express them by lashing out. A less than healthy way to live.

You liked that the team didn't speak to you like a child or treat you like you were incapable. Instead, they talked to you like an adult, gave the truth to you in a way that sliced through all your stubbornness and attitude. As you head towards the elevator, you hear footsteps, and look just in time to see Spencer making his way towards you. His satchel hangs off his shoulder, and he looks relieved, an emotion that you knew all too well by the end of a work shift.

You hoped there wouldn't be any cases that drug you back to the unit, all you wanted was a shower and a nap in your own bed.

Stepping into the elevator, Spencer trails you. He takes one side of the elevator, while you huddle up in the other. He offers you a tired smile as the doors slide closed, you offer him a smile right back. It's weary, mostly because you were drained, but partly, because Spencer had been the object of your thoughts the entire day. Especially after Emily's blunt speech. You were drained. The anxiety of keeping the secret far outweighed any fear of rejection now.

"Hey, are you alright?" he addresses you, after noticing the way you seemed lost in your head.

"Hmm?" you hum, and he repeats himself. It snaps you out of your mind spiral, and your head nods. A lie. "I'm all good, Spence." you reply, and he looks disappointed, but not surprised. "Thanks for asking though." you add a second after, and he offers you a dry little nod of his head. The elevator is back silent, and you hope the doors open quick. You might drown if the tension grew any thicker.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." he says, and you blank. Your confusion is clear as day on your face. "Earlier..." and your still not understanding. "I wasn't telling you that you were important to me, because I was expecting anything in return." he explains, and it clicks. "If it made you feel weird, I'm sorry. It just felt like the right way to express my point then." he proceeds, and you don't know how to collect yourself. "So, I'm sorry." and you want to scream.

Mostly at yourself for being so infuriatingly inadequate at expressing your thoughts and feelings.

"If you want, we could just pretend I never said anything?" he offers, and you don't answer quick enough. The elevator slides open just as the words are settling inside your head, and he's stepping out into the parking deck without another word. You sit there in the elevator for a moment, the door sliding shut after a moment, but you don't move. You feel like you're at a crossroads, almost at a point of no return. If you let Spencer leave now... like this, there would be no coming back.

There would be no room to gain some balls later, and try again. It wouldn't be fair to him. It wouldn't be fair to yourself.

You feel like hyperventilating, thoughts everywhere. Love had never been a subject you really understood. You'd always sort of saw it as this concrete construct. Unchangeable, always either black or white. A gloomy, gray, existence that could cut you up and spit you out. Love could turn you into a hollow version of who you once were. Love could break you down, and make you nothing. But then you think of your team. JJ and Penelope, Hotch, Dave, Emily, Derek. Spencer.

They were the rarest and purest examples of love in your day-to-day life, weren't they? You'd never quite met anyone who had your back more than your team. They fought for you, they fought with you. They believed in you, pushed you to be the best you that you could be. So why was it so hard, what were you scared of? Was it the notion of getting Spencer, and staining him? Blowing out that light inside him the way you'd witnessed for so long?

Was that a life worth living? Was it a chance you could take?

And then you huff, because damnit... you were tired of waiting. You were tired of anxiety, and uncertainty, and insecurity, and pain. You're certain that is why you hit the button to open the elevator. Gracefulness is not on your side as you practically sprint out into the car park, your eyes scanning hopefully for the familiar silhouette of your friend. When you spot him, you release a quiet noise of relief. "S-Spencer!" you hear the echo from your shout, and cringe.

But it doesn't matter, because he turns, he stops, and he's looking at you. His eyebrows are raised, hands gripping his bag, as you start to run. You ignore your fatigue, and your desire to run and hide, and instead run towards something for once. You don't stop running until you're past the point of 'personal space', you want to hover, you want to be in his space, because it was the only way you could possibly get through this. He looks a bit unsure, and still a bit grumpy.

You hope by the end of this that's no longer the case.

"Spencer, I don't want to forget about what you said." you're trying to catch your breath, bouncing up on your heels. "I don't want to pretend you never said it." you add, and Spencer's surprised expression has the hairs on your arm and neck ready to stand on end. "I-I actually want to know what you meant." you admit. "Because, I know what I meant when I said it... and it's not something that I take back." you express, and you can hear blood rushing in your ears.

"What did you mean?" Spencer asks, and you blanche.

"I asked you first." the obvious retort, and Spencer exhales loudly, but there's no annoyance, no exasperation. Only amusement, like always.

"I've done enough talking, haven't I?" he asks. "I want to know what you're thinking." and his voice is so soft, full of tenderness that you feel like you're being serenaded. You feel like you've got a knot in your throat also, almost like you'll suffocate if you don't get your thoughts out. "I promise I won't leave you hanging." and you're not sure what he means by that, but it helps. It makes your heart stutter-step, and you need to catch your breath, because you can't believe this is actually happening, or that you're actually here.

"I-" you play withy your fingers, and you have to inhale deeply to ensure you don't chicken out. "Spence, I didn't tell you that you were important to me, because you said it first." you promise, and he nods, but he doesn't say anything. His eyes are syrupy, alluring, and beautiful, still twinkling under the dingy, flickering lights of the parking deck. "I said it because you're all I really think about." you admit, and his eyebrows furrow, and you're scared.

"And the last three weeks... I've been so mad at you." you blurt out. "I was the one that acted like a child, but I was angry with you, because I thought that you were making fun of me... and all the feelings I have for you." you exhale, and you look down at the ground, because the nerves that come with your words are overwhelming. "I was jealous, I acted like a child, but it was only because I thought you were rubbing it in my face... I thought you were being cruel."

Spencer's long lashes blink rapidly, but he's still stone silent. Probably because he knows that you're still not done. "And that wasn't fair of me, because I know you, Spence. You're not that type of person, but I just I couldn't reign myself in, and I acted immaturely because I was scared... and then just now, in the elevator... I almost did it again. I almost let you think that I don't care about you... but I do. Spencer, I have feelings for you." and you clear your throat, legs shaking.

"I'm in love with you, and I'm not... this isn't some trick or ploy or cry for help. I understand if you're mind is elsewhere... and I'm so sorry if the way I've been acting ruined everything, but I-I love you okay? That's what this has all been about. I'm sorry it took me so long to say something, but there it is." and you gasp, chest heaving now that you were finished. You finally look up at Spencer again, and he's staring you down. It doesn't feel hypersexual or heady with tension.

Instead, it's like the first intake of air into your lungs after being under water for so long. You supposed that's what the truth did, you supposed that's what your feelings for Spencer did when you allowed them to exist. "You mean that?" he asks, and you huff.

"Of course, I mean it. I mean it so much, I think I'm going to be sick." and despite himself he laughs, a bright beam following after it. He takes a small step towards you, and you feel crowded, the body heat from you both warming you up from the inside out. Still, despite how outwardly calm he looked in comparison to you, you managed to spot the shyness, the anxiety that rested in his own eyes. He looked unsure, almost like he was being careful not to ruin the moment.

"Do you know how long I've been wanting to hear you say that?" he asks, and you're shocked, stuck, surprised. You don't know if this is in your mind or if you just got lucky. "Have you ever-" he's got this gleeful look on his face. "There's this quote by Lao Tzu..." he stammers, "Love is of all passions the strongest, for it attacks simultaneously the head, the heart, and the senses." he quotes, and there are no butterflies... you think that might be a good thing.

"I don't know if there's been a time since I met you that you haven't been on my mind." Spencer explains, and there it is. "I think that's why I snapped the way I did, I don't think I ever imagined a scenario where we'd be here." he admits, and it pains you to know that he thought that way. "It was-" he motions between you both. "The thought of us being something was sort of just something I believed would always sort of just be a thought." Spencer's glowing red.

The blush coats his ears, cheeks, nose, and neck. His eyes are brighter, and his hands twitch at his side, almost like he's restraining himself. You think you only notice, because you're doing the same.

"I want to be with you." he says this so faintly you're almost unsure you heard him correctly. Your eyes widen, and your surprise is obvious. He takes a small step forward, and he's crowding you. It's nothing like the movies, in fact, the closer he gets to you, the more you're able to see the shyness in his eyes. He reaches out, and his hand ghosts over your side.

"Spence-" and the you that you were just an hour earlier, the one too scared to tell him the truth almost feels like she never even existed.

"Can I?" he asks, and your eyes drift to his hands that are inching closer to your body. You nod your head quickly, and he doesn't look amused. "I want to hear you." he says quietly. "I want you to tell me that I can." he adds, and you find yourself nodding anyway.

"Y-You can." you promise. "But I don't want you to pretend." his eyebrows furrow again. "Please don't do this if you don't mean it." you say, and Spencer's hands drop to your side, there's no wandering fingers, in fact it feels like he wanted to touch you for the sole purpose of keeping you from shaking any longer.

"Y/N, I want to be with you." he repeats it more firmly this time, and he's looking directly at you. It's intense, the eye contact more than anything else. He sounds sincere, and that makes you nervous.

"But what about..." and you trail off, because you don't know what to label the pretty woman he'd been entertaining. Spencer chuckles quietly, and his head shakes from side to side.

"She was nice." he reiterates the words he'd said three weeks prior. "But, she's not you... I don't think anyone would've been able to fill your shoes." he says, and you squeeze your eyes closed, because God, Spencer was so good with words. His hands are on your face, brushing at your cheeks as you shed a few long overdue tears. "Are these happy tears?" he asks hopefully, and your eyes shoot open. Your head nods, and you're not sure why you're so quiet.

Maybe, because life had thrown a curveball and surprised you in a good way. "Happy tears." you agree, and he presses his lips together, thumbs still working to keep the tears at bay. "I just can't believe-"

"Please do." he cuts you off, before you can get it out. "Believe this, believe me." he almost begs, and you hum. "Can I kiss you?" he asks, and you don't answer him, instead you surge forward and press your lips to his. You're certain security is getting a full view of the action, Spencer kisses like he wants to inhale you, and it's nice.. It's more than nice, his kisses are surged with emotion, every ounce of affection that his words had been drenched in was felt in the kiss.

Had breathing not been a factor, you might have stayed there. When you pull back to inhale, Spencer's got this twinkle in his eye that makes your nose scrunch up. "What?" you press, and he grins at you.

"You love me..." he breathes it out, and you're not sure if he's stating it or asking, but you suppose now that the cat's out of the bag, saying it again is nothing.

"Yeah. I love you, Spence." you promise, and he's quick to lean in and peck you on the lips. "D'you love me too?" you ask, once he's pulled back, and his hands move up, cupping both sides of your face as he drags his thumbs up and down.

"I love you." and it sounds like a promise.

So you believe him.

"It’s a profoundly strange feeling, to stumble across someone whose desires are shaped so closely to your own, like reaching toward your reflection in a mirror and finding warm flesh under your fingertips. If you should ever be lucky enough to find that magical, fearful symmetry, I hope you’re brave enough to grab it with both hands and not let go.” ― Alix E. Harrow

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verstappenf1lecccc · 7 months ago

Text

if you go I go

Dr. Oscar Piastri had always been a man of few words, his life dominated by the cold precision of surgery and the quiet solitude that came with being the best in his field. Yet, when he met you, everything changed. You were the light to his dark, the calm in his storm. You filled the silence of his world with laughter, joy, and warmth. To Oscar, you were everything—the pulse that kept him going, the reason he woke up every morning. He loved you more than words could express.

The two of you had been married for two years, and it was your wedding anniversary. Oscar was known for being meticulous, but even he couldn’t keep up with the chaos of the day. As much as he wanted to surprise you, he had been so focused on work and the pressures of his surgical career that he’d forgotten to plan. You, being the loving and understanding wife, had taken it upon yourself to surprise him with a gift—a token of your love for him.

It was early in the afternoon when you decided to go out. You had picked out a sleek, beautiful wristwatch for him, something to mark the special occasion, and you couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he opened it. He had always worn the same old, worn-out watch, and you knew he’d love the new one.

But fate had other plans. As you were driving home, a car ran a red light, crashing into your vehicle with a terrifying force. The impact was deafening. The world around you spun out of control as the car flipped, the screech of metal on metal and the shattering of glass echoed in your ears. You tried to scream, but the pain—sharp, sudden, and all-consuming—cut off your breath. Your head collided violently with the steering wheel, and the world went dark.

Oscar’s day was just beginning to take a turn when his phone rang. At first, he thought it was another case, a consultation, or an update. But when he saw the name of the hospital flash on the screen, a chill ran down his spine. The voice on the other end was calm, clinical—but Oscar could hear the faint tremor, the underlying urgency that spoke volumes. His heart sank when he heard your name. He didn’t need to hear the details; the panic that gripped him in that moment told him everything he needed to know.

Without hesitation, he rushed to the hospital. The drive was a blur, his heart pounding in his chest, his thoughts racing. He couldn’t even remember the route he took, but all that mattered was getting to you. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong.

When he arrived, the first thing he saw was the stretcher—the one carrying you, the love of his life. The sight of you, so pale, so still, sent a wave of panic crashing through him. He wasn’t sure if he could breathe, or if his legs would even hold him up. The world around him felt like it was collapsing. His perfect, peaceful world had been torn apart in a split second, and all he could do was watch as they wheeled you past him, unconscious and battered. The stretcher was stained with blood, and Oscar’s heart clenched, his thoughts spiraling into an abyss.

“Oscar, we need you in the OR,” a nurse called out, snapping him out of his trance.

Oscar nodded, but his eyes never left you. He followed the team as they rushed you into a trauma room. The fear in his chest was suffocating, but he forced himself to push it down. He couldn’t break down. Not here. Not now.

Once inside, the beeping of monitors filled the room, a steady rhythm that seemed to mock him with its mechanical nature. He was no longer the detached surgeon—the one who had learned to separate himself from his emotions. As he looked at you, barely recognizable from the blood and bruises, all the walls he’d carefully built around his heart began to crumble.

Your breathing was labored. A blood-soaked bandage was wrapped around your head, but it wasn’t enough to stop the bleeding. You had fractured ribs and internal injuries, but it was the internal hemorrhage that worried him the most. A small tear in one of your arteries had gone unnoticed earlier, and now it was slowly, quietly, tearing you apart from the inside.

Oscar could feel his hands trembling as he worked quickly to assess the damage, each moment more desperate than the last. His mind was a mess, but he had to keep it together. He had to save you.

But seeing you like this—the woman who had been his sunshine, his reason for waking up every day—made him feel more helpless than he’d ever been. His wife, his world, was slipping away, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His professional mask was shattering, piece by piece, as his panic threatened to overwhelm him.

He was a doctor. He had saved countless lives. But you? You were different. You were his. The thought of losing you was unbearable.

And then, in the sterile chaos of the trauma room, when he couldn’t keep his emotions in check anymore, the words escaped him, a whispered confession that broke the silence.

“I don’t want you to die,” Oscar muttered, his voice rough with emotion. His hands shook as he held the scalpel, his mind racing with terror. “I can’t lose you. You’re all that I have…”

There was no response from you, only the steady hum of the machines and the frantic activity around him. But Oscar couldn’t stop. He worked tirelessly, desperately, knowing every second was a battle for your life.

The next few hours were a blur, but in the depths of his mind, he couldn’t shake the haunting thought that he was about to lose everything.

Somehow, against all odds, you made it through. The surgery had stopped the bleeding, and though the road to recovery would be long and uncertain, you were alive. But for Oscar, the terror of nearly losing you didn’t go away so easily. The fear still clung to him, gnawing at him in the quiet moments, in the spaces between breaths.

Months had passed since that day, but the memories never fully left him. They lingered, haunting him in the dark corners of his mind. And on one particularly restless night, the memories came crashing down with full force.

Oscar awoke suddenly, drenched in cold sweat, his heart pounding in his chest. The nightmare had been so vivid, so real, that he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had lost you all over again. In the dream, you were gone, your blood spilling out in front of him, his hands unable to stop it. He had been too late, and in the horror of that realization, his world had turned to ash. No colors, no joy, just a hollow, aching void.

He sat up in bed, gasping for breath, his chest tight, his hands trembling. His pulse was erratic, and the cold sweat clung to him like a second skin. The nightmare felt like a cruel replay of his deepest fear, and it made him feel helpless, powerless, and empty in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to feel since the day you were injured.

His heart was heavy, and despite his desperate attempts to calm himself, he couldn’t escape the feelings of loss and dread that had consumed him. He slowly slid out of bed, careful not to wake you, and stumbled down the hallway to the living room, where he collapsed onto the couch. His body shook as the sobs he’d been holding back for months finally broke free.

He was a doctor. He was supposed to be strong, unshakable. But right now, in the silence of his home, with the memory of that nightmare still fresh, Oscar felt completely shattered.

You awoke to the cold emptiness of your bed. The space beside you was vacant, and a chill swept through your chest as you noticed Oscar was gone. Panic stirred in your heart. You knew something wasn’t right. As you slipped out of bed, your bare feet padded softly across the floor, the house eerily quiet, save for the soft sniffling you could hear coming from the living room.

When you found him, the sight of him—slumped on the couch, his face buried in his hands—broke you. Oscar, the stoic, the composed, was in pieces, vulnerable in a way you had never seen before.

His body trembled as he cried, a raw, heartbreaking sound that shattered your heart. You knelt beside him, your hands gently touching his shoulders.

“Oscar…” you whispered, your voice filled with concern. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

He looked up at you, his eyes bloodshot, his face streaked with tears. For the first time in months, he allowed himself to feel it all—the fear, the grief, the terror of losing you again.

“I’m so scared,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I saw you… I saw you die, and I couldn’t do anything. I don’t know how to live in a world where I’ve lost you. I don’t know how to breathe without you.” His hands gripped your shirt as though he were afraid you would slip away again.

You pulled him close, wrapping your arms around him, holding him tightly against you.

“I’m here, Oscar,” you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’m right here. And I’m never leaving you. You won’t lose me, I promise. We’ll face this together, always.”

Oscar let out a shaky breath, his body relaxing slightly in your arms. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured. “I was so scared… I thought I was going to lose you forever.”

“You don’t deserve this pain, Oscar,” you whispered, your fingers gently stroking his hair as he clung to you, the warmth of his body pressing against yours like a lifeline. “But you do deserve me, and I’m not going anywhere. You’ll never lose me. I promise.”

He pulled back slightly, looking up at you, his eyes raw and red from crying. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, his professional armor was gone. There was no mask of calm detachment, no wall of control. There was only Oscar—the vulnerable, terrified man who had almost lost the love of his life and couldn’t bear the thought of living without you.

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” Oscar said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re the only thing that makes sense in this chaotic world. Every day I wake up and I see you beside me, and it’s like the world is okay again. But when I lost you… I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. Everything went dark. I couldn’t stop it… and I still can’t shake that fear.”

You gently cupped his face, guiding his eyes back to yours. His hands trembled against your skin as if he were afraid to let go of you, to face the world without you by his side.

“You don’t have to fight this fear alone,” you whispered, your voice filled with tenderness. “I’m here, Oscar. I’ll always be here. You can lean on me. We’re stronger together. We’ll always find a way through the dark, no matter how much it hurts.”

Oscar’s lips parted, his gaze softening as he searched your face, looking for reassurance in the depths of your eyes. For a brief moment, the frantic anxiety that had consumed him faded, replaced by the quiet comfort of your presence. He took a shaky breath, his hands finding yours, holding them with an almost desperate intensity.

“I thought… I thought if I lost you, everything would shatter,” he admitted, his voice almost a whisper. “But then I realized something. I don’t have to face this alone. We face it together. You’re not just my wife. You’re my strength, my heart, my reason to keep going. And I’ll never let that go. I’ll never let you go.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you leaned in, kissing him gently on the forehead. “And I’ll never let you go, Oscar. You’re my heart, too. Without you, I wouldn’t be whole. We’re a team, always. Together, we’re unbreakable.”

A moment of silence passed, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. But in that silence, there was a peace—an understanding that neither of you could imagine life without the other. The fear, the pain, and the scars of that near-loss would always be a part of you both. But it wasn’t the end. Not now. Not ever.

Oscar closed his eyes for a moment, his face buried in your neck as he finally allowed himself to rest, to let go of the suffocating anxiety that had gripped him so tightly for months. He felt the warmth of your arms around him, the steady beat of your heart, and for the first time in so long, he let himself breathe.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, but full of emotion. “I love you more than I’ll ever be able to say. Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice soft but unwavering. “Always. And I’ll never give up on you. We’re in this together.”

For a long while, neither of you spoke, content to just hold each other, to let the quiet calm of the moment fill the empty spaces where fear and grief had once lived. Slowly, the tension began to leave Oscar’s body, his breathing evening out as he finally allowed himself to relax in your embrace.

The nightmares that had haunted him for months didn’t vanish overnight. But in your arms, he found something he had lost: hope. The kind of hope that only love could give. He knew the road ahead would still be hard, that the scars would never fully fade. But as long as you were by his side, he could face anything.

Oscar gently pulled away, his eyes searching yours with a softness that only you could bring out of him. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, fragile but real.

“I’m so glad you’re still here,” he murmured, his hands holding yours. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

You smiled, your heart full of love. “You never have to find out. I’m not going anywhere, Oscar. Not now, not ever.”

And as you both sat there, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s embrace, you realized just how deep your love ran. It had been tested, scarred, and nearly shattered, but through it all, you had come out the other side stronger, more united than ever.

Because without each other, neither of you would have survived.

But with each other, you were unstoppable.

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #f1 imagine #f1 scenario #f1 x reader #formula one #oscar piastri x wife reader #fluffy oscar piastri #formula one x reader #oscar x reader #formual one #forumla 1 #fandom #formula 1 #fanfic #formula one imagine #osc #mclaren

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frickyeahfanfic · 29 days ago

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〉the enemy of my enemy

chapter 4 - breach.

ethan hunt x f!reader 》 read chapter 1 here - playlist here summary: You’re alone. Prague is the first real lead you’ve had on VANTAGE since everything went haywire—and you’re not about to let some fancy IMF agent ruin your shot. But when Ethan Hunt intercepts you mid-mission, everything spirals. word count: 3178 tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, mission impossible warnings: some fighting and violence a/n: writing scenes like these are tough. but the chapters are getting longer, can you tell??

MARSEILLE. PROVINCE AIRPORT, 13:34 HOURS.

You glance out at the rising sun through the small oval window. Marseille is waiting. And you’re starting to believe you might actually stand a chance. Which means VANTAGE is going to try harder to kill you both.

“Hey.”

A hand is on your shoulder, gently shaking you awake.

“We’re here.”

You groan, your neck sore from resting at a weird angle for four hours.

“Benji is coming to pick us up,” Hunt says, grabbing his backpack from under the seat.

You’re still waking up and only now realize your head had been resting on Hunt’s shoulder for most of the flight.

And he hadn’t moved you.

You get up and follow him off the plane, too groggy to speak. You’re pretty sure nothing coherent would come out anyway.

Once outside, a black Audi pulls up to the curb and you both jump in.

“So are you gonna tell me who the girl is?” The man in the driver's seat asks. You recognize his heavy British accent from Hunt’s phone calls. You make eye contact with him through the rearview mirror. His blue eyes are softer than Hunt’s, and you instantly feel more at ease. But you’re careful not to let your guard down quite yet.

“She’s…” Hunt begins, but trails off.

She’s what? You want him to finish his words. She’s annoying. She’s a liability. She’s in the way.

“She’s young,” the driver says, squinting up at you.

You shift uncomfortably. You get the feeling they aren’t just talking about age.

“You must be Benji,” you interject.

He nods and smiles. “Right you are, and you?”

Hunt cuts in and says your last name, the only name he knows you by.

“That’s an odd name,” Benji laughs.

You pull the blonde wig off your head, mirroring Hunt taking off his hoodie. “It’s not my first name,” you say flatly. You were still somewhat bitter that Hunt figured it out.

Benji huffs. “Ah, we’re all a bit on a first name basis, aren’t we, Ethan?” He turns and looks at the other agent.

“Well, I’m not one of you.”

“Well, unfortunately for now, you are. Welcome to the team!”

As irritated as you thought you’d be with this… jovial British man, you’re endeared by his positive disposition. It’s a stark contrast of what you’ve been dealing with in the past 48 hours.

After a few minutes, Benji pulls the car into a garage underneath a building of apartments. The narrow streets make driving tricky, but Benji was careful not to scrape the car.

The three of you head up into a small apartment, decked out in computers and equipment that are already set up and ready to go. There’s a large hologram map projected over the wall, showing a massive compound.

The first relay facility. You had once overheard about this facility being used for VANTAGE.

“Here’s where the first real coordinates pointed us,” Benji says, tossing his keys into a bowl and walking over to the hologram. He pinches his fingers and opens them, causing the hologram to zoom in. You can see the rows of servers now, surrounded by nothing but steel walls.

“We need to get access to a certain server, here-” Benji makes a tapping motion, and one of the server racks lights up. “We’ll get the credentials and internal relay routing maps from VANTAGE’s underground server node. Without those, we won’t be able to decrypt and gain access to the next target node.”

You simply nod, listening intently to his words. “Alright, how do we get in?”

“And out?” Hunt chimes in.

Benji grins, but he’s clearly stressed. One bead of sweat drips on his forehead, either from the heat outside or the exertion of coming up with the plan.

“I’ll be outside in the surveillance van and I’ll get in through the building’s security feed. You’ll both enter together through the dock access. As you move through the building, walk a little slower so I can cut out the cameras at the right time, got it?”

You and Hunt nod simultaneously.

“Once you’re inside, Ethan, you’ll split off toward the secondary control room and plant an uplink. It’ll give me temporary access to their isolated network. You’ll also draw guard presence, just enough noise to clear a path.

Benji turns fully to you now.

“That’s your window. We need you to slip in the server room to breach and download the routing keys from the vault terminal. Without them, we can’t breach the second relay point.”

Your mind is running through all the risks. “What if we don’t pull this off cleanly?”

Benji’s lips tighten. “The relays are all linked. If two nodes get compromised without proper sequencing or if we hit a ‘tripwire’, the entire network goes into lockdown. We won’t get another shot.”

He turns around and faces the projection again. “There’s an elevator here. This is where you two will regroup and get out. It’s closest to the west exit. I’ll use a magnetic lift so it moves faster because you most certainly will have trouble following you.”

You swallow. There’s a million ways this could go wrong. But I guess that’s why it’s called the Impossible Mission Force…

“Sounds like a plan,” Hunt says dryly.

He walks by Benji and starts changing into the clothes laid out for him. He’s stuffing an earpiece in when he looks back at you, glued to the floor. “We don’t have all day.”

“We’re doing this, now?” You ask incredulously.

He’s wrapping his hands with some black tape. “Unless you have another idea, this is our only shot.”

“You mean, now now?” You blink. You were all for spontaneous adventure but this was a suicide mission.

Benji chuckles slightly, and you dart a menacing look at him. He shuts up quickly, and grabs a vest off of a nearby table. He comes closer to you and hands it out. “This is a vitals vest. I’ll be able to watch you both carefully with it on. If anything happens to you, I’ll be the first to know. We prefer our agents, alive, you know.” Benji smiles weakly at you.

“Thanks,” you say. Benji hands you some black clothes with his other hand, and you head to the bathroom to change.

Once dressed, you head out and walk over to Hunt.

“Hey, we’re matching,” you say, grinning. “All black. Maybe one of us should change.”

“It’s not a choice. It’s protocol.” He says, adjusting a gun to his leg.

You raise an eyebrow. “You sound fun at parties.”

“Ooh, I like her,” Benji says, which elicits a sigh from Hunt. Now there’s two of you against him.

Benji tosses you some keys, and you catch them effortlessly.

“Your ride, outside. Comms are live and ready and I’ll be taking a different route but staying close by. Once I’m in position, I’ll give the signal and you both can advance with the plan, deal?”

“Deal,” you and Hunt say in unison.

You dangle the keys in front of Hunt. “I get to drive this time.” You tease.

Hey. If they’re gonna call you “young”, you might as well live up to it.

You walk out of the apartment with Hunt trailing behind you. You can practically feel the tension radiating off his body. He’s in mission-mode now.

Once outside, you click the button on the keys. Not a single car on the street lights up.

But a moped does. A single, bright red scooter.

You both freeze.

You turn back to the building, and watch as a van drives out of the garage.

“Benji!” You yell into the comms. You just about run after the van.

In your earpiece, a voice crackles over. “I’m sorry! It was either this or a bakery truck. Thought it would be a little more inconspicuous,” he pauses, then says, “and would allow for some more team bonding!”

“I’m not part of the team,” you mutter. You slowly turn to look at Hunt, biting back a smile. He’s smiling too. But it’s more of a ‘I’m-gonna-kill-that-man’ smile.

“Red is so your color, Y/l/n.” Benji’s voice comes over the comms again.

“You still want to drive?” Hunt rolls his eyes.

With a smug look on your face, you swing a leg over the moped and start the scooter.

“Yep. Come on,” you pat the seat behind you. “Or you’re getting left behind.”

“I think you’re forgetting I’m your bait. You won’t get in the server room without me,” he mutters, but climbs onto the seat behind you. As he settles in, you can tell he’s trying so hard not to hold onto you.

Can this man just let go of his ego for once?

You rev the scooter and accelerate just a little too fast. He grunts and grabs onto your waist instinctively.

You’re not sure if it’s the nerves from the mission or the closeness of Hunt’s body to yours, but you feel your stomach do a flip. Hopefully Benji’s vitals vest doesn’t catch the spike in your heart rate.

In a few minutes, you arrive at the relay facility. It’s perched on the edge of the water, and you spot quickly where the loading dock is. You zip the scooter over there and stop. Waiting for Benji’s command.

“Romeo and Juliet, the first systems are offline. Please, be careful,” Benji says in the comms.

You instantly cringe. “Romeo and Juliet?”

“Just roll with it, I didn’t have much time to get creative. You have approximately twenty seconds to get in the door.” Benji responds quickly but you can hear his smile in his voice.

Parking the moped, you and Hunt jump off and sneak around a few trucks, staying out of sight of the guards around the loading dock. A truck starts moving towards the garage door, and you and Hunt both roll under it, and grab the underside, using it as a vessel to enter the facility.

“Okay, now split,” Hunt whispers to you once inside, letting go of the truck and heading towards the control room. You go in the opposite direction, staying low and entering into a dim hallway.

Blood is rushing to your ears and you can see more clearly. The adrenaline is kicking in.

“Juliet, take a left and head down the stairs. The server room should be on your right,” you hear in your earpiece.

“You don’t need to call me that, Benji,” you say as you hurry down the stairs.

He sighs. “Well, if you’re not gonna tell us your first name, we have to give you one.”

“What about Romeo?” You snap at him.

There’s two guards by the server room doors. You hide behind a corner, trying to calculate how to take both of them down without raising the alarm.

“Uhhh, well you have to match, I guess-”

He’s cut off by the sound of you hitting one of the guards. The second guard turns about to shoot at you, but you launch towards him, knocking his gun out of his hands and tackling him down.

“Okay. Ethan’s placing the uplink right now. You should have access in three, two,-”

There’s a click at the door in front of you. You swing it open and jump inside.

“I don’t know who that is. I only know about Romeo,” You mumble. Hopefully the comms are separated by agent and Hunt isn’t listening to this whole conversation.

“Seventh row, third rack in. Fine fine, I’ll drop the nicknames…. I just thought it would be fun…” Benji admits defeat.

You find the tall server rack that Benji had indicated before, and open the grate. There’s hundreds of wires and boxes, but you pinpoint the access point immediately. With a thumb drive you pull out of your pocket, you jam it in and wait till you get the confirmation.

Your comms crackle on. “Sorry, Y/l/n. Ethan’s in a little bit of trouble. But the data is almost finished downloading. Count down from ten and then pull it out.”

Okay, stay calm. Although Hunt drove you crazy, you didn’t want to lose your most capable ally now. After ten seconds, you pull the drive out and head back the way you came.

There’s almost no guards anywhere, since Hunt was taking the heat. Hopefully not too much heat. You rush down a hallway and spot the elevator that you and Hunt were supposed to meet up at, but there’s no tall, brooding agent in sight.

“Benji, what’s happening?” You hiss.

“Get out of there, quick. You have the drive, and that’s what we need right now. We can’t risk the network going into lockdown.” Benji’s comms are fuzzy and you can barely make out what he’s saying. Must be a weaker signal from where you’re standing.

You spin around, looking for any sign of Hunt. “Where is he?”

“Hunt’s vitals just went blank. Y/l/n, abort mission, now!” Benji yells.

The elevator stands open now, but you don’t move. “I’m not leaving him behind!”

“He’ll figure it out! You’re compromising the mission!”

You shake your head and start running like hell, ignoring Benji’s incoherent shouting in your ear. Up two flights of stairs and burst into the control room, where a guard has Hunt at point blank, tied to a chair with some heavy metal wiring. Hunt’s face is dripping with sweat and blood, his vitals vest is torn, and there’s bruises on his bare arms. His dark hair is completely disheveled and he’s panting hard.

There’s several bodies on the ground, taken down by Hunt himself. But eventually he was overpowered.

An armed man steps in front of you and points a rifle at you, but you shove a hand underneath it and thrust upwards, causing bullets to rip into the ceiling above. With one hand on the gun pointed away from you, you stab a knife in the man’s chest, eliminating him from the mix.

You rip the rifle out of his hands and start shooting at the other two guards in the room. One hits the ground and the other one dashes behind Hunt, taking cover behind his body. He’s unarmed so this shouldn’t be too hard, you think to yourself. The magazine clicks blank, and you toss the gun to the side, and unsheath two more knives concealed on your body.

Heart pounding, you lunge for the man behind Hunt. You manage to slice his leg, and he yells in agony - but he’s fast. He grabs your other wrist, twists it, and throws you backwards. Stars dance across your vision as your head slams against the floor.

You manage to roll back and wrap your legs around your attacker’s torso, yanking him to the ground. Before he can recover, you deliver one nasty blow with your elbow to his nose, and forcefully drive a knife into his stomach. He goes limp.

You scramble up, scanning for more guards, and for now, the coast is clear.

Rushing to Hunt, you draw one of your blades and slice through the wiring keeping him in place. Once the last wire drops, he jumps out of the chair.

“Why the hell did you come back?” He snaps, breath ragged.

Your mouth gapes open. “How about, thank you?”

There’s no time to bicker. Alarms start blaring and red lights flash over the concrete walls and you both run through the facility. As you weave through the facility, you finally make your way to the elevator. Just like Benji had said, once you both step inside, it rockets upwards. The second the doors open, you sprint out of the west exit.

Gunshots crack in the distance. You spot Benji’s van screeching around the corner. More guards pour out behind you, yelling.

You and Hunt dive into the van just as bullets strike the ground behind you. Benji floors it, and the compound disappears behind you in a blur.

“Did you get the credentials?” Hunt pants, clutching his side in pain. You’re both sitting on the van floor, facing each other, still catching your breath.

You pull the drive out of your pocket and hold it up between you. It’s a little scratched and bloody from your fingers, but still intact. Hunt exhales and lets his shoulder drop.

Benji’s voice roars from the front. “When I say abort, you abort! That was not the plan!”

“I got the drive,” you snap, voice rising. “And I got Ethan! Is that not enough for you?”

The name hangs in the air. Ethan. And it takes you a second to realize you said it out loud.

Neither he or Benji comment on it. They both go silent. Hunt meets your eyes, and lingers for a moment. You can’t read his mind, but something in his expression has shifted.

You glance away, heart still racing, partially from the mission and partially from… something else.

Outside the window, the city fades behind you as Benji drives through narrow backroads, finally pulling into a quiet hillside neighborhood nestled just outside Marseille.

Benji parks the van and you all climb out, all exhausted. The sun has already set, but in the dusk light you can see the villa, clearly staged by the IMF. No neighbors, no noise, no risks. Just locked doors and blackout curtains.

“We should be good here for a little bit. I’ll start scrubbing our digital footprints and check out the drive,” Benji says, taking the lead. He puts his hand out for the drive, and you give it to him, somewhat reluctantly.

Inside, the villa is sparsely furnished. Plain walls, some tables with equipment, cabinets with supplies and a couch in the main room. You and Hunt walk in together, shoulder to shoulder, somewhat oblivious to the space between you two.

Benji disappears into another room with the thumb drive, leaving you and Romeo alone. You drop into the couch, rubbing the back of your head where a small bump is starting to form.

Hunt watches you in the low light of the living room. He folds his arms and circles the room till he’s facing you on the sofa.

“You disobeyed orders.” He says lowly, towering above you.

“And I saved your life.”

He squints his eyes. “You could have died.”

You stand up now, meeting him toe-to-toe. “And? You were about to.”

“I had it under control,” Hunt added, tilting his head.

There’s silence as you two are staring each other down, barely any space in between. The tension is tight, loaded, dangerous. You’re so close you can feel the heat radiating from him, but his expression stays cold. Guarded.

He’s waiting for another one of your snarky remarks, a snap back, for you to be the reckless rogue that’s trying to prove something, but you don’t give it to him.

You hold his gaze for one more beat, then turn to walk away.

His hand catches your wrist before you can get too far.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” he says.

Then softer, almost reluctantly, “Thank you.”

chapter 5

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~ % TAGLIST: @sarahskywalker-amidala @mirrorballbb @angstylittleb1tch @allthespecificity

#ethan hunt #ethan hunt x reader #ethan hunt fanfic #the enemy of my enemy #tom cruise #ethan hunt x you #fanfic #mission impossible #mission impossible 8 #mi8 #mi5 #ghost protocol

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wannabepoeticischiya · 4 months ago

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if it can't be you, then let it be no one at all

ao3: if it can't be you, then let it be no one at all pairing: pro-mlb! miyuki kazuya x f! reader genre: romance wc: 3.7k status: one shot

Miyuki couldn’t put it into words, because even if he tried to—the mirror of her smile showed up in his head, the sound of her laughter echoing in the once desolate meadow of his heart, the warmth of her gazes melting the frost he never noticed had encased his soul.

And when he conjures the image of the one who holds his heart—it was no longer the field domed by the azure skies, no longer the sweltering heat that came from the glaring sun… it was her, at the center of it all, holding it together, colored with all the shades of happiness the universe could offer.

There was something in summer that had Miyuki Kazuya feel iffy like there was an itch in the back of his head only the change of seasons could scratch.

It's not like he totally detested summer (he did) or wished for it to go away faster (he does). He used to love summer—the heat, the burning sensation of the sun as he played in the field, the warm air as he ran from one base to another... he loved it, thrived in it even. Back then he was sure he could never hold even an atom of resentment for the season when baseball was played at its peak.

Well, that was what he thought back in high school.

Back when Miyuki was only chasing after the girl from band club, the girl he saw at orientation day, and unknowingly, all too suddenly—Miyuki found himself barreling through the atmosphere like an asteroid catching fire and fell in love… which was annoying for her, and very embarrassing for him.

The girl he sat next to during tests and would discreetly stare at. When he would take the most ridiculous routes back to his dorm just so he could see her. The girl who led his batting song... the girl who said yes to going out with him after a year and a half of courting her along with the occasional begging.

[Name], whom he is now married to.

“Miyuki, how does it feel to once again step onto the world stage this coming tournament?” The interviewer’s question brought him back to where he was at the moment, sitting in this unnervingly comfortable chair, wearing clothes his publicity team had pressed into perfection, the glaring lights illuminating the stage.

It always made him think that he should feel comfortable, be more confident in his own skin, and not feel as if he was giving off this… ‘stiff as a board looking like he wanted to get out of this place and run back home vibe’—which he would’ve done if he wasn’t so shackled by his professionalism.

He is reminded of the wires, of the cameras, and the dozens of eyes staring at him from the rows of people occupying the seats. The red sign that read ‘On Air’ glared right at him from the far end of the studio.

“Pretty great,” Miyuki inwardly winced at his lackluster reply. Great? Really? Is that the best you got?

Miyuki always told himself that he should be used to this. That he shouldn’t be so jittery and jumpy and lose all the words he knew whenever someone asked him a question. After being invited to countless talk shows, interviews, press conferences, and all the publicity needed to promote the team—he should be used to it. But when he’s shattered out of his daydreams, he finds it difficult to quickly gather the fragments of his thoughts.

He cleared his throat, plastering the well-practiced professional smile he spent so long trying to perfect in front of the mirror (and with his wife—duct taped on the mouth because she was always laughing—who gave him an approving nod and thumbs up as her shoulders shook from her giggles).

“We have an amazing lineup of players, and we’ll definitely be reaching for the World Series title this year.”

Even if the words were something his PR manager told him to say, Miyuki—for all his charm and ego—knew it was the truth, and he would have said it even if no one told him to.

The interviewer chuckled, liking the way Miyuki's energy took on a much lighter form. “Confidence! We love seeing that in promising young players. And when has Miyuki Kazuya ever turned down a challenge?”

Miyuki smirked, leaning back and crossing his legs, draping an arm over the couch—something less than a force of habit. “Wouldn’t be here if I did.”

The interviewer laughed, flipping through his cue cards. “Alright! Let’s switch things up a little. We have here some fan-submitted questions, and—” He glanced up from the cards, heaving a breath, and gave Miyuki a knowing look. “—well, they are very interested in your life outside the field.”

Miyuki sighed, the smile still very much present on his face—but if he could, he wouldn’t tell the world anything beyond what he shows in baseball.

“Of course they are,” he laughs quietly, shaking his head like he expected this to happen—which he did considering [Name] showed him the form a few weeks earlier informing the fans that their questions had the chance to be answered by Pro Baseball Player Miyuki Kazuya.

“Okay let’s get right into it!” The interviewer cheered, shuffling the cards as the lights of the studio were set to scatter to increase the tension.

“What is Miyuki Kazuya’s favorite season?”

Miyuki tilted his head in thought. If he were to be asked that question ten years ago, he’d say summer right off the bat (pun intended). No one would ask him why—not when the answer was written all over him.

Already painted on his sunfire-kissed skin, tan lines that never faded no matter the shift in seasons. It was printed on the school roster that bore his name year after year, in the tournament highlights played under the searing sun. Even stared right back at them through his sports glasses as he crouched behind the home plate.

Summer was baseball. Summer was his season.

But here, underneath the artificial lights of the studio, wrapped in layers of designer-approved clothes, in the center of all these curious eyes, he couldn’t say the same.

Not because he fell out of love for summer—heaven knew he still loved the feeling of warmth covering his skin, of the hot zephyrs hitting his face as he ran across the field, the way everything would settle into silence… he adored that, it was still living within him.

But one day, somewhere along the way, Miyuki found something—someone—he loved more.

And suddenly summer paled when put next to her.

No summer sky could match the glow on her face when she smiled. No sun could rival the gleam of her eyes when she looked at him with all the gentleness in the universe. No warmth of the season could mirror the way her arms felt around him—when she actually let him hug her, or even get close enough to try to.

He remembers it clearly. The moment he had experienced the sheer cruelty that came with the season of summer. It wasn’t shrouded in daylight, not even on the field where he believed should’ve been the only answer, and—as horrible as it was to say it—he would’ve chosen losing a game underneath the sweltering heat than be subjected to this torture. It was in the dead of night, when silver light flooded the darkened room, and he was banished to the other side of the bed.

“Dude, get away from me.”

A hand—her hand—was planted on the hill of his cheek, pushing him away.

Miyuki groaned but did not budge, still trying to cling onto her despite her efforts to shove him away. “You’re so mean.”

“You're too hot,” she fans herself with her other hand, not giving him the chance to glomp her with his torrid temperature. “Why are you even here? There's literally so much space over there!”

He props himself up on an elbow, resting his head on his fist, staring at her unimpressed. “Well, I wouldn't be here if someone didn't spill chocolate over my side of the bed.”

Miyuki was lucky enough to have that excuse because if he didn’t, he would still try to get into her personal space—only he would have less of a chance to actually succeed.

She huffed, turning away from him. “I already said I was sorry!”

“Sorry isn't gonna magically get us clean sheets overnight.”

That was a lie of course, he did see some bed sheets in the cabinets earlier—choosing to hide them underneath a pile of hello kitty blankets so she wouldn’t think to look for it there.

Realizing she wasn’t gonna win this one, not when she was close to passing out, most certainly not when the heat of the season was beginning to test how far her patience can reach, she relented—albeit reluctantly.

“Fine, just—just stay away from me.” She sneaks a glance at him from over her shoulder, staring at him pointedly; a warning. Don’t you dare.

Miyuki barely moved before she snapped again.

“Kazuya! Stop it!” She pushed him away, giving him one of the nastiest glares he had ever received in his life. “I told you, it's too hot so move away!”

He sighed dramatically, willing his body to move a fraction away from her. “I literally just tried to find a better position to sleep.”

“You can do that without inching close to me.”

Miyuki only agreed, finding that she wouldn’t relent no matter how he tried. It was summer vs him. It’s not like he could force his body temperature down in the snap of a finger. If she didn’t want him near, then it’s fine. He would behave.

At least… until she falls asleep.

When the world was shrouded in stillness, the midnight sun crossing the center of the sky, and the only sound she could hear was the steady hum of the AC—which she had so stubbornly set to the lowest power setting—she woke up feeling the same problem she desperately tried to avoid earlier.

It was too hot.

And this time, she couldn’t move.

Amidst the haze of slumber clouding her vision, it took her a solid ten seconds to figure out why.

Kazuya had locked her into a bear hug, one arm draped over her waist, the other curling over the expanse of her collarbone. His breath was warm against her nape, legs tangled with hers like she was some human-sized plush toy.

The more she tried to pry his hold away from her, the tighter he held on. She knew he was completely knocked out, and she knew there was no changing anything about the situation when clearly Kazuya was unwilling to let go—even in his unconscious state.

She could only sigh, defeated—silently berating herself why she was stupid enough to sleep next to him on one of the hottest days of summer. Then again, if she were to sleep on the couch, Kazuya would still find his way next to her and she would still be faced with the same dilemma.

Left with no other choice, she slept feeling like she was pressed up against a literal furnace.

Miyuki let out a breath, dragging himself back to the present. He smiled fondly at the memory, it felt like he was reliving the moment all over again but in reality, he knew he was up in la la land for no less than ten seconds.

The interviewer raised a brow at Miyuki. “You’re really considering your answer carefully, huh?”

Miyuki let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah,” he playfully agrees. “Had to go through a whole mental debate for a while.”

“So?” The interviewer prompted, nodding encouragingly. “What’s the verdict?”

Miyuki tilted his head, the corner of his lips curling to a boyish smirk. “Winter.”

There was a beat of silence. Miyuki didn’t even have to look anywhere to know that everyone expected a different answer. He was Miyuki Kazuya, someone who lived for the season of summer, for the sun, the thrill of baseball underneath the sapphire skies.

The interviewer gathered his thoughts faster than anyone else, flashing a grin. “Yuletide! Well, it looks to me that the audience is just as shocked as I am! Any special reason why winter takes the crown?”

Miyuki smiled, if only they knew just how lucky he was during winter.

When the cold made her clingy, lingering around him like a shadow because the warmth of the heater wasn’t enough. When she would abandon her side of the bed to come near him—because all too suddenly, no amount of blankets could replicate the feeling when it was his arms curled around her.

When she curled into him effortlessly, like winter sun: slowly, effortlessly… as though it was always meant to be; slotting herself to all the spaces between them, pressing her cold feet against his legs without warning. He would flinch, caught off guard, and she always laughed—always.

When she would rise first during the slow, snow-ridden mornings, tugging his sweatshirt over her head, sleeves reaching past the horizons of her fingertips, before walking the hallways in her fluffy wool socks to go and make warm drinks for the both of them. When she would find herself beside him, holding the cup between her hands, leaning against his side because he was abundant in warmth—because Kazuya ran hot and she liked it.

When she let him pull her close—without complaint, with no hesitation… nothing but the infinite vastness of adoration lingering in the spaces they couldn’t take for themselves. When she would bask in the feeling of his warmth, without shoving him away, without calling him a human furnace and declaring war on him at the ungodliest hours of the morning.

Winter meant the return of stolen hoodies, when his clothes weren’t enough for the two of them because she would refuse to use any of hers with the excuse of ‘they aren’t as warm as yours’. It meant waking up to find her draped over him like a cat. Winter meant pulling her in for a hug any time he wanted… it meant lazy mornings spent under thick blankets where it’s just the two of them—and nothing in the world could ever matter.

Winter meant her.

Miyuki blinked, realizing he got lost in thought once more. He lets out a breath, half expecting a cloud of white to form where his lips meet the air—only to find it nowhere. Thinking about winter made him wish for it to arrive faster.

He tilts his head with a knowing smile. “Well…” he began, “it’s closer to my birthday.”

The host couldn’t hide the chuckles that left his lips as he shook his head in amusement. “Ahh, we really cannot argue with that folks! No one can beat birthdays.”

Miyuki joined in on the laughter, shifting where he sat—inwardly grinning like a fool, if only they knew. “What can I say? I like the season that treats me well.”

The audience collectively laughed, though anyone with half a brain working could figure out that there was so much more to what the athlete was saying. But Miyuki wasn’t about to spell it out for the world to hear.

The interviewer, ever the professional, let the moment simmer before he once again shuffled through the cards for the next question. “Alright, moving on—next question, and this one… oh, this one’s interesting.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Miyuki, as the latter just smiled the best he could.

“Is Miyuki Kazuya single?”

The question nearly had him choking on air… literally.

Was that… a serious question?

Wasn’t it already obvious? Wait. Hold on. Did I never—?

A mental recap of the past year rolled in his head at lightning speed. He remembers getting married, of course—highlight of his life. He remembers wanting to tell the world and he believes he was close to doing so before his name slips past the borders of his wife’s lips, beckoning him to come over. But even after that, he could’ve sworn he posted a picture of their anniversary earlier this year… or did he just think about posting it? Surely he mentioned it elsewhere, right?

Snapping out of his thoughts, he did the one thing he was good at even after all these years—he laughed it off. Miyuki quickly looked at the camera and smiled proudly. “Nope,” he chuckles, raising his left hand to show the silver band on his ring finger. “Haven’t been single since second-year high school.”

The audience reacted immediately. Some in laughter, a mix of impressed murmurs, the others in absolute shock.

Miyuki let out an amused laugh, although he, himself, was also quite lost. “Really?” he blurted out before he could hold his tongue—he was so gonna get grilled for this. “Did I never explicitly say I was married?”

The interviewer whistled and leaned forward, seemingly intrigued. “Many fans speculated that you were off the market even before your teammates posted Instagram stories of a wedding where the groom looked quite similar to you.”

And it hit him.

Miyuki had never actually announced it.

Miyuki put a hand against his mouth, trying to fight off the laughter that wanted to break free from the back of his throat.

“Oh,” he breathes out, voice dying in the tunnels of his throat at the realization. “Oh, that’s—wow. That’s on me. Sorry.”

Laughter filled the studio, and Miyuki could do nothing but card a hand through his hair. So… he never actually announced that he was married. Perhaps the excitement got to him too much that he only imagined telling the world all about it but in reality, he became far too preoccupied living the dream of a married life to even say a thing about it.

“Now you heard it here first, folks. Pro Athlete Miyuki Kazuya is a happily married man! So happy he forgot to announce it.”

The interviewer relished in the audience’s amusement, giving Miyuki a grin of his own. “Well, now that we know you’re hitched this brings us back to the fact that you married a high school sweetheart. Now that’s rare! How did that happen?”

Miyuki found himself smiling softly at the reminder of her, rubbing the silver band on his finger—the only anchor he had left to this moment so he wouldn’t ascend to the clouds and drift in the ocean of every thought he harbored for her. “It wasn’t easy, I’ll tell you that.”

“You had to work for it?” The interviewer looked like his eyes were about to pop out of their sockets. Was it really that surprising? It wasn’t just the host who looked bewildered, from the corner of his eyes, he could see a few cameramen and staff and the audience staring at him eagerly waiting for him to continue.

“The words of my wife were, ‘Work for it like a cow, Kazuya. Maybe, I’ll consider it after a year or so’ and she considered me after a year and a half.” He grins proudly.

“A year and a half?” Now the interviewer practically had his soul escaping from his open mouth.

The memories made Miyuki smile. How his stare constantly gravitated towards her. The feeling of absolute euphoria when he stood in the batter’s box knowing she led the theme song to his play. When he would come in late to PE because he knew her name was last on the list and she would be left with no choice but to pair up with him.

Miyuki chuckled, he found it peaceful to talk about her—that he could finally tell the world why he was so happy. “She didn’t like me at first. But I had the biggest crush on her—downright ridiculous. Took the longest, most unnecessary routes back to my dorm just so I could ‘casually’ run into her. I swung hard enough to make the ball go out of bounds so I’d have the excuse to go get it because she was there. This is kinda embarrassing to admit.”

The interviewer grinned. “That’s some strategic planning, Miyuki,” He playfully salutes the athlete.

“What can I say? I have baseball to thank for that.”

Miyuki wouldn’t have it any other way. If she told him to work hard for her to agree for the next ten years he would do it in a heartbeat.

He wouldn’t even hesitate. He wouldn’t falter.

As strange as it sounded, back then he couldn’t pray for love. It was kind of pathetic to hear, true. To dare to dream about it beyond the fields of baseball was ridiculous, and to want it with her? Even more so. But there he was, choosing to look at her instead of the team practicing, his gaze drifting from Kuramochi ranting about the pitcher’s haste to watch as she led the band to the tune she wanted to play, his heart slowly but surely finding its way to orbit around her.

So how could he give that up so easily? How could he never find a reason to stay? When all that he has ever loved and more was her?

And if it wasn’t her, then he would rather have no one at all.

There was something about it; knowing—learning all that she was passionate about. Carving into his very being the engraving decorating her soul just to feel a tad bit closer to her than he already was, delve a little deeper into her mind, to see for himself the meadows of her desires.

There was something about it… when he does that. As though there was no greater thing to exist other than to love her slowly… intimately. To catch her form as she joyfully hops the last step of the stairs, wait as she ties her shoelaces, hold his hand out for her to take when she's walking slow—ready to receive her once she catches up, wait for her to finish her meal—to be awarded the rarity of the moment of basking in the light of her vulnerability.

He found greatness in loving her softly… slowly. Like letting the stars simmer and cool before they're ready to burst forth and burn for all the eternities.

Miyuki would find himself telling her the words, if it can’t be you… then let it be no one at all.

It is so ridiculously hot where I live (around 42C here) and when I go out my sweat drips like a faucet that can’t be shut off (;´A｀) The original title for this was supposed to be written in Filipino ‘Kung hindi lang din ikaw, ‘di bale nalang’ which would literally mean: if it’s not you, then nevermind. I have a serious issue with Miyuki because I burst into tears when I see him (ㅠᯅㅠ) I'm such a loser and I don't even know the reason why.

#chiya's head rent 🎐#daiya no ace x reader #begging you like the beggiest beggar in all of begdom #one chance miyuki please I'm begging you #daiya no ace #miyuki #kazuya #miyuki kazuya #miyuki kazuya x reader #miyuki kazuya x you #x reader #miyuki x reader #kazuya x reader #diamond no ace x reader #diamond no ace #ace of diamond #ace of diamond x reader

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twdgrxmes · 3 months ago

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Trouble - TrailerPark!Daryl Dixon x GoodGirl!Reader (Part 1)

next ->

WC:811

Tags: Slow slow slow slowww burn

SOPHIA'S POV

Summer of ’84 was the first time you laid eyes on Daryl Dixon. And it didn’t take long to figure out that he was trouble.

Not that you didn’t already know the name — everybody in Monroe County did. The Dixons had a tainted reputation to say the least, with Daryl involved in what seemed like constant fights and Merle doing his own thing after returning from the military - selling drugs, drinking.

So no, it wasn’t exactly surprising. Just… real, now.

You’d grown up in the same town — same zip code, same high school, same southern heat that stuck to your skin like syrup — but you might as well have lived on opposite planets. You were the sheriff’s daughter, living under the constant pressure of his expectations, being pushed to be ‘little miss perfect’.

You didn’t consider yourself that way. Not perfect, no. But proper.

You got straight A’s but would never bring them up unless someone asked, even then downplaying the achievement. You smiled politely, were captain of the cheer team, wore pressed skirts and soft perfume. People looked at you and saw a future. Clean lines. White picket fences. Safety. You had a reputation purer than a blank canvas.

Daryl Dixon? He was the opposite of all that. The epitome of chaos, the definition of being on the wrong side of the tracks. Sure, he made a living, if you could call it that - selling drugs for Merle, doing the odd job fixing up bikes and cars.

And yet—there he was, right outside your house.

And you couldn’t stop looking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was late morning when the sound of metal scraping against metal yanked your attention from the comfort of a lazy Saturday. Not early enough to still be dreaming, but early enough that you were still wrapped in the quiet haze of a slow start — hair a mess, sleep still heavy in your limbs, the faint scent of strawberries clinging to your pillow. You sighed softly, pushing your face back into the covers, aching for just five more minutes of sleep.

But the noise came again. Not something subtle, not the gentle hum of lawnmowers or the chirp of birds — this was louder, rougher. Mechanical. Out of place.

You sat up, brushed your fingers through your hair, and crossed the soft carpet to your window. Pulling back the curtain, your heart skipped — not in fear, not exactly.

There he was.

Daryl Dixon. Crouched over your father’s old Chevy, hands deep in the engine, sweat glistening on the olive skin of his biceps, his neck and his collarbone beneath the Georgia sun. His black wife beater clung to him, dark with oil and heat, and a cigarette hung lazily from the corner of his mouth, dropping ash down the front grill of the car, forgotten as he focused on the mess of wires and bolts in front of him.

You knew who he was, of course you did – everyone did. He was a few years older, twenty-one, and from the trailer park off Route 9.

He was the type of guy your father always warned you about - ‘you stay away from him, you hear me.. that boys no good’.

And yet — here he was. In your driveway. Fixing your father’s car like he belonged there. Like this was completely and utterly normal.

Your fingers stayed curled around the edge of the curtain, stepping onto your toes to get a better look. You told yourself you were just curious — that anyone would look twice if someone like him showed up unannounced. But the truth was, you’d been watching longer than you meant to.

And Daryl? He noticed.

It was subtle at first. The slight pause in his movement, the tilt of his head like he caught something in the air that didn’t belong — a shift in light, the weight of eyes on skin, but he shrugged it off soon enough, figuring it was just an odd feeling.

Then, just as he reached for another tool from the open box by his side, he turned.

Slow. Deliberate.

And looked straight up at your window.

You froze, your cheeks tinted bright red. Like he’d physically caught you..

His cigarette burned low between his fingers now, the smoke curling lazily around his jawline. He didn’t smirk, but there was something in the way his eyes narrowed, something unreadable, something that said ‘yeah, I see you.’

But he didn’t look away.

Neither did you.

For a second, the whole world went quiet — no birds, no breeze, no creak of tools against steel — until reality set in. Daryl dropped his gaze, turned back to the engine, and muttered something around the cigarette in his mouth.

But your heart was still pounding, loud and bright in your chest.

And you had the distinct, dangerous feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time that you’d be seeing Daryl Dixon.

Authors note ~

okkk if you’ve made it this far then let me know what you think, this is obviously part 1 and kinda just an introduction to the characters/vibe.. but please let me know if it’s any good! i’m nervous and this is my first time writing so it’ll help out a lot :)

#young daryl dixon #daryl x y/n #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #the walking dead #trailer park daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl x female reader #dixon

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thewritersofdeceased · 1 year ago

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Could you rank the TBP boys ( Ghost crew + Finney ) in a x render type of way , wich who will be more and less faster in proposing to their partner in a future ? Than you for reading, your writing inspires me <]

I’m so glad my writing inspires you!! This was absolutely a blast to write!! ‼️🫶 I did it as headcanons and x reader vibes!! It's a bit easier for me, but I will fix it when I get done with all my requests!! (I promise just pls remind me if I forget :( )

TBP BOYS AND WHO IS MORE OR LESS LIKELY TO PROPOSE IN A FUTURE!

BRUCE YAMADA

out of all the boys, I'd think Bruce would be the first one to propose to his partner!

He'd probably do it at once of his games after his team wins

Like those sappy marriage videos you'd see on your fyp

definitely made it a surprise for months.

Hell, he'd do it with a ring pop if it made you happy

literally asked you if you'd say yes if he married you one day

Silence lingered the field as Bruce and Y/N laid underneath the clouds. On a blanket that the ravenette had brought, a sudden questioned popped out of him. "Hey, Y/N? " He started, earning a hum in response from the other. "Do you think.. if one day in the future would you marry me? Or say yes?" He then asked, sitting up properly to face the other.

"Marriage? I never thought about it." Y/N responded, sitting up slightly, using their arms to hold themself up. It took them a couple seconds, but a smile formed on their face as they thought about it "I mean, yeah. You're sweet, kind, caring. Who wouldn't say yes to marrying you?" They then asked, tilting their head at Bruce.

Of course, Bruce smiled at the answer, nodding his head to it. Then it was official. He'd marry them one day. Whether with a ring pop or with an official ring. One day. He swore.

ROBIN ARELLANO

Robin, out of all the boys, was probably the 2nd one to even think of marriage.

Definetly plans it ahead with Finney or one of the other boys

no way did he plan it all on his own.

He'd be a bi nervous asking you about it, probably fidgeting or something

He knows his family isn't exactly on the richer side, so he's more nervous about getting an actual ring

since he wanted to join the war for his dad, he'd propose to you before he left for war.

Robin sat quietly in the park, tossing what looked like a ball in the air. He'd stole it from Bruce, well, more so found the ball near the baseball fields and claimed it as his own. Y/N Sat besides him, reading whatever sorts of book they had. Though they looked to Robin when hearing the boy speak to them.

"You ever think about marriage?" He'd ask them, no longer tossing the ball in the air and now looking to meet Y/N's eyes. He could see the slight look of confusion on their face, but tilted his head only. The gears were turning slowly in Y/N's mind as they fished for an answer.

Placing their book down into their lap and gently taking a hold of Robin's hands, they'd merely smile. "If this is your way of asking if we'll ever get married in the future, the answer's yes." Now that gave Robin the answer and motivation he needed to even think about the whole ring situation he'd been in.

BILLY SHOWALTER

Bily's a bit iffy on the whole marriage thing, but he'd eventually succumb to it!

He wants it to be perfect when he decides to marry you in the future

He'd try and ask earlier in the day, during one of the days he does his paper routes!

He writes the question down on a sticky note and puts said note in the paper

Look, he's nervous okay? he's trying his best.

Gets Griffin to try and help him out, when that don't work he goes to the others.

Placing his bike down gently on your yard, Billy made his way towards the comforting house you resigned in. He enjoyed it. Rover sat by the bike, waiting patiently as the dirty blonde made his way up to your steps. A small smile was on his face as he eventually knocked on the door, his smile widening more when you opened the door.

"Hey sunshine.” He’d greet. Sunshine was your nickname he’d given you after seeing you in the sunlight, specifically in his mother’s camera. So he stuck with the nickname Sunshine. Going into his bag and grabbing a newspaper, he held it out to you, smile remaining as he spoke again. “Here’s your pape for the day.” He spoke, faking a New York accent. Just for fun!!

He took a couple seconds before he would leave, smiling when he soon realized you had read exactly what he'd written on the sticky note. "Of course I'll marry you, Moonlight." You two were basically the sun and moon, and Billy knew exactly what kind of rings to get you two.

FINNEY BLAKE

Finney's a bit more cautious to get married, but he really wants to

He's just super nervous about it and doesn't know the exact way to approach

He tries to use anything you've told him to his advantage

He's one of the boys who has to read off of something, he's that shaky and nervous.

But when it comes to asking you about it during childhood, he asks you in the confinement of his room

You and Finney were currently sitting together in his bedroom, doing different homework for different classes. He was doing work for science, you were doing work for {subject}. Out of nowhere, in what sounded like a shaky tone, Finney spoke up. "Y/N? If we're still together in the future, and I asked you to marry me, would you say yes?"

The question was sudden, but it made a small smile form on Y/N's face as they placed their pencil down and sat up properly to look at Finney. "Yes. Yes I would." They spoke softly, reassuring the brunette boy. Of course he was nervous, gently taking their parents hands into their own.

"Of course I'd marry you."

GRIFFIN STAGG

Griffin's seen what marriage can do to a person.

So he's actually really fucking nervous to marry anyone,

He doesn't want it to end up like his parents marriage so he's super cautious to even think about marriage

Though he uses words in books to ask you if you would one day

you just gotta give him the time to not be so nervous and think about it

The library was you and Griffin's favorite place to go, or the cafe just outside of Denver. Anyone who knew Griffin knew how much the kid loved to read. In his hands now was a normal sized book. It was paperback, not being hardcover. The name of the book was "Blackmoore", the artist being "Julianne Donaldson". He had a calm look on his face as you read whatever you had chosen to grab, whether it was horror, drama, romance, etc.

After a couple seconds, Griffin gently tapped the table, trying to get y/n attention, and when he did, he slid the book over, his index finger pointing to what he wanted y/n to pay attention to. A quote stated, "“You are brave and loyal and true. You have such a good heart." He held my hand close to his chest and covered it with his other hand. "It is only afraid. But I would take such good care of it, love, if you would give it to me."

Just seeing how he was hinting about something including marriage, it made y/n chuckle as they watched Griffin mess with his hands. Gently tapping the table and catching Griffin's attention, Y/N would sign(ASL) "I'd marry you if it meant you were always smiling."

VANCE HOPPER

Vance saw what marriage did to his parents, so he's not really excited to think about it

His parents aren't even divorced yet, but he still is nervous

He doesn't want his marriage to end up like his parents

he also doesn't trust his parents to show up if they ever got married

asks you while at the grab n'go

"Hey, babe." Vance was first to speak, even if all of his attention was focused on the pinball machine he'd love. A soft hum escaped Y/N as they looked at Vance, their brow raised and head tilted. "If I beat my high-score, you think one day you'd marry me?" He questioned.

Which resulted in soft chuckles escaping Y/N. They weren't laughing at Vance, no. They were laughing at the fact Vance was willing his high score for it. A soft hum escaped before they answered the blonde's question.

"If you can beat it by the time we're adults, babe." They replied, letting out even more soft laughs and nodding their head. "Then yeah, if you can, I'll say yes."

#the black phone x reader #vance hopper x reader #griffin stagg #bruce yamada x reader #billy showalter x reader #the black phone imagine #finney blake x reader #robin arellano x reader #griffin stagg x reader #LATE POST IM SORRY

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chuckeroo777 · 11 months ago

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Laios got Eaten AU Chapters 1-52

So, I was pondering a lot (as I do), and was thinking about this AU. Here's my take on it. Sorry if my grasp on characterization isn't the best. Expect lots of Farcille.

This is mostly a plot point based summary, going chapter by chapter. If something isn't elaborated on, assume it's the same as canon.

Note: This first installment ends at the same point as the anime, but as a manga reader, there are spoilers for later in the canon story.

Edit: Wowzers, that ended up being over 4,000 words! Guess I had more to say than I thought.

This is pretty long, so I'll begin under the cut.

Chapter 1:

Unlike Laios' self deprecating take on this scenario, the rest of the team doesn't immediately give up on him. Marcille and Chilchuck are his friends, and if Falin thinks it's possible, then they're in.

Namari leaves of course, but Toshiro is more complex. He argues with Falin, trying to convince her not to embark on such a risky mission, and may accidentally frame it as Falin choosing between him and Laios. Falin, of course, picks Laios. Toshiro leaves, dejected. After feeling sorry for himself for a while, he gets his retainers and heads after her, hoping to offer backup.

Falin proposes the dungeon eating plan, having casually discussed the possibility with Laios in the past. Without the gourmet guide, she isn't as knowledgeable about monsters, but she is pretty good at identifying stuff from her days of eating weird stuff in the woods, so she can tell the walking mushroom isn't poisonous. She also manages to grab the scorpion, having messed with crayfish as a kid.

Unlike Laios, she doesn't try to eat the venom, but they still struggle, and Senshi comes in to help. Falin is very excited to have such an expert helping them out, and is happy to have him join the team.

In general, Marcille is just as squicked out by monster cuisine, but she tries to put on a brave face for Falin. In fact, her attempts to be more accepting results in her not yelling at Senshi, so the slime doesn't attack her.

Chapter 2:

They go after the man-eating plants, and things mostly go down the same. Without Laios, it takes a little longer for Falin and Senshi to figure out how to save Marcille, going for the root. Marcille gets seeds planted in her skin, but Falin is able to heal her and get them out.

Chapter 3:

Senshi takes them Basilisk hunting, and Marcille is dismayed to see Falin knows the trick for intimidating Basilisks, a sight she will not soon forget. While Senshi slices the snake, Falin caves the chicken's head in.

While Senshi prepares the Basilisk, Falin is able to use a detox spell on Doni. The two still stay to eat though.

Chapter 4:

Events mostly play out the same, though Falin is a bit more gentle in rejecting Marcille's help. Falin admits to having skipped class the day they learned about mandrake harvesting.

Chapter 5:

Chilchuck uses Falin's metal staff instead of the sword to find the passage. When they go to get the oil, Falin casts a fire-ward spell on Chilchuck, just in case. Senshi declines to take one too.

Chapter 6-7:

Without Laios' insights, they deem the living armor too dangerous after the first attempt, and take a slightly different route to the third level.

Much to Marcille's chagrin, they run into a nest of giant rats, and they end up having giant rat stir-fry instead.

Chapter 8:

Falin thinks Senshi's utilization of the golems is absolutely delightful.

Chapter 9:

Falin is rather uncomfortable with Chilchuck's suggestion to trade at the seedy bar, but doesn't argue.

Events with the orcs go more or less the same. Falin thinks Bahay is very cute.

Chapter 10:

No Kensuke, so they get ambushed by the bugs. Chilchuck gets bitten, but Falin is able to heal him.

Falin applies much better ghost wards than Marcille. In fact, she quickly realizes they are just paralyzed, and is able to heal them. Yeah, no. That would have way too big of a butterfly effect on the story. Maybe she's too distracted by the pretty bugs to notice.

Unlike Marcille, Falin thinks the centipedes are adorable. In fact, she secretly takes one and hides it in her pack to keep as a pet.

Chapter 11:

As one would expect, the ghosts are a complete non-issue. No ice cream for them.

Chapter 12-13:

No one in this party is crazy enough to bother with the living paintings. Without the delay, they are able to make camp at the level 4 entrance, bypassing the mimic.

Senshi catches some fish, and they have a very nice dinner.

Chapter 14:

Mostly the same, except instead of Laios, Senshi is saved by Falin. She has experience in such manners.

Chapter 15:

Sadly, Falin does not know the song, so they have to resort to earplugs. This leads to a silent but amusing argument where Chilchuck has to talk down Falin from eating fish-men without words. Falin does not pull the waterweed stunt.

Chapter 16:

The kraken battle is pretty much identical.

Unlike Laios, Falin has eaten calamari before, having gone to that restaurant with Marcille several times. She is very disappointed the kraken tastes bad.

Senshi cooks up the parasite, and Falin doesn't eat any raw.

Chapter 17:

No one is sick, so this chapter doesn't happen.

Chapter 18:

Marcille has a sponge bath and insists Falin take one too. Chilchuck is annoyed by their flirting, but Senshi thinks it's cute.

When the Undine attacks, Falin is able to waterwalk and help Marcille, but neither of them has particularly good magic for fighting an undine. Both are badly injured, but they manage to escape.

Falin is able to heal both of them, but they are both left very hungry, and relatively low on mana. They have a barbecue to help them recover.

Chapter 19-20:

The Tansu party arrives. Tensions aren't quite as high between Marcille and Namari, but it's still there.

After Tansu fails to pacify the Undine. the two parties agree to help each other out. First, they help get down to the tower. A well placed fireball saves Kiki from the tentacles. Sadly, without Laios' knowledge, they can't eat them, at least not as easily.

When coming up with a plan to stop the undine, the idea to trap it is brought up, and they basically use the same plan, except Namari is in on it from the start.

After killing it, Falin suggests eating it, and the two groups enjoy some kelpie stew before departing opposite ways.

Chapter 21:

More or less plays out the same. Chilchuck suggests making the suits, to which Falin enthusiastically agrees. Senshi makes froggy hash instead of pasta, since he doesn't know how to neutralize the stinging.

Marcille puts on the frog suit without complaint since Falin puts one on first.

She attempts to take it off to much complaint still.

Chapter 22:

Most identical chapter yet. Namari asks about Laios instead of Falin. That's it.

Chapter 23:

Plans are made to take down the red dragon. With Falin here, their warding spells are much better, but no Laios means Senshi is the only proper warrior. Falin is a decent fighter, and plans to join Senshi and Chilchuck on the frontline. They search the orc's storehouse and find some spears, which will hopefully be enough for the inverse scale.

They mostly come up with the same plan. Crush the dragon, then kill it.

Chapter 24-25:

The pot defenses fail, and they go ahead and crush the dragon. When the dragon emerges, Falin is able to execute the plan, stabbing the dragon as they play dead. However, she isn't able to stab deeply enough before the dragon recoils, the spear getting pulled away from her, landing some distance away.

Senshi tries to stab the dragon in the foot, but the spear breaks. Things go as they do in canon, with Senshi and Chilchuck managing to toss Falin the spear and blind the dragon in one eye.

Falin meets up with Marcille, and ends up pulling the same self-sacrificing gambit Laios did, stabbing the dragon in the throat while dangling from its mouth.

Chapter 26:

Falin falls unconscious, and has a dream about when Laios first left home, leaving her behind. And how he later promised to never leave her behind again.

Marcille still has to heal Chilchuck and Senshi herself, since Falin is in no state to do it herself. They retrieve her leg, and Falin is able to finish healing all four of them.

They begin carving into the dragon, with Senshi taking the lead. Laios' intrusive thought fun facts end up saving the day, reminding Falin about the flame sac.

Chapter 27:

Falin doesn't even bother mentioning the resurrection office, already knowing what must be done. Marcille doesn't hesitate to offer her ancient magic as the solution.

Falin is able to assuage Chilchuck's concerns a little better than Marcille did, clarifying that the ancient magic is just used to perform magic of a magnitude impossible with just natural mana. He still doesn't quite buy it, but doesn't protest further.

Putting Laios' skeleton together takes longer, since no one here is super knowledgeable about dog skeletons. They get it eventually though.

Marcille does the ritual. Falin thinks Marcille is hot when she lets her hair down like that.

Laios is revived successfully, and everyone is incredibly happy.

Chapter 28:

No bath scene. :(

Laios is incredibly curious about their journey, and is running his mouth asking questions. He is extremely excited that his monster eating idea worked, and is practically glued to Senshi for a while asking questions. Due to his presence, Senshi doesn't explode the dragon.

Marcille isn't surprised in the least by Laios' enthusiasm, and is just glad to have her friend back. They enjoy their little dragon feast, regaling Laios with their tales of monster eating.

Unlike Falin, Laios does not realize that forbidden magic was used to revive him, and apologizes profusely for abandoning Falin, even though she insists it wasn't his fault.

Chapter 29:

When Thistle summons Laios, a ghost wakes Falin up. She wakes the others, and they go looking for him.

Unlike Falin, Laios doesn't gain magical power from the dragon, instead getting an even bigger boost to his strength. Falin isn't just knocked unconscious, but is badly injured by his punch.

Not even being dominated by the mad mage can stop Laios from yapping. As he is transformed, he gives Thistle tips, causing his chimera form to be significantly more dangerous, featuring a bigger but more slender build and bigger wings, allowing him to actually fly. As well as a few other embellishments, such as tail spikes and small horns.

The ghosts save the party, and things proceed as normal.

Chapter 30:

Chilchuck's arc is mostly the same, except that it is easier to convince Falin once she wakes up. Healing the internal bleeding Laios caused took a lot out of her, and both her and Marcille are tapped of magic. They agree to return to the surface.

Chapter 31:

Literally Identical.

Chapter 32:

Kabru's deductions are mostly the same, only altered slightly due to being warded by Falin instead of Marcille.

Shuro isn't quite as haggard. Falin isn't actively dead, so he doesn't feel the need to run himself ragged. Funny enough, taking better care of himself ends up canceling things out, and he arrives at Kabru's group at about the same time.

Chapter 33:

Senshi and Chilchuck have to fight the Dryads by themselves. They use the axe instead of Kensuke. Not that Laios helped much, but the first dryad manages to attack Senshi, leaving him in much rougher shape by the end of the fight.

Thankfully, he makes a full recovery once Falin recovers some mana from the yummy pottage.

Once Falin is recovering, she suggests teleporting out of the dungeon, but Marcille flat out refuses to let Falin do that again. It's way too risky. Now that they have a source of food, mapping out the area should be simple.

Chilchuck does not escape the sex ed.

Chapter 34:

A dramatic reenactment of chapter 34:

They still need to spend several days making the map, but at least petrification isn't an issue.

Chapter 35:

The ghost warns Falin about the wyvern, and they hide in the wall, so business as usual.

When Marcille accidentally puts on the frog suit, Falin decides to put hers on too. This somehow makes Marcille more mortified, not less.

Recognizing Falin, the ninjas don't attack. Marcille is annoyed how happy Falin is to see Toshiro, considering the bad terms he split off on.

Chapter 36:

Since Falin has been enthusiastic, but not overbearing about monster food, Chilchuck chooses to go with Senshi even more easily.

Falin explains what happened to Toshiro, leaving out the ancient magic. Toshiro has no reason to think Falin wouldn't be able to revive Laios. He is happy to learn that she intends to return to the surface, and he plans to try and talk her out of returning once safe on the surface.

Kabru can tell Falin is lying about something, but remains quiet.

Chapter 37:

Even though harpies show up, everything seems to be going well, until Hien splatters on the ground. The Laigon quickly proves to be a ferocious foe, with razor sharp claws, a vicious thagomizer, and the ability to easily fly out of reach, or drop opponents from deadly heights.

Marcille didn't know that sufficient brute force could splatter an Undine to death, but apparently so.

Falin watches in horror as she can see an almost joyous look in his eyes. He would never do this of his own volition... but he clearly doesn't hate it.

When Rin grounds the Laigon with lightning, Falin steels her resolve and charges in to pummel his weak point, but he smiles and says her name.

Chapter 38:

After Kabru fails to kill him, the Laigon is too powerful, and kills Kabru before Falin can do anything. Seeing the Laigon about to attack Falin, Marcille hits it with an explosion.

Snarling, the Laigon looks like it's about to pounce at Marcille and company, causing Falin to fully freak out and unleash her strongest offensive spell, causing several massive rocky spires to erupt and impale the Laigon from below, and accidentally hitting Rin in the process.

Screaming and convulsing in pain, the Laigon takes for the sky, fleeing as fast as it can, leaving behind a thick trail of blood.

With both Falin and Holm alive, as well as Marcille not being barred from helping, the revivals go smoothly.

Toshiro ends up getting into a shouting match with Falin regarding her goal of saving Laios. Falin insists that if they defeat the mad mage, they can save him. He insists that trying to do so at this point is suicidal.

In the heat of the moment, Toshiro declares that Laios isn't even worth saving, and Falin slaps him. The conversation comes to an abrupt end, with both severely regretting their actions. Toshiro walks off to think, while Marcille comforts Falin, who seems on the verge of tears.

Toshiro ends up apologizing, saying he can't understand her decision, but he will respect it. He has Maizuru give them supplies so they can head down immediately, and gives Falin the bell.

Asebi overhears Marcille speculating with Chilchuck about the Laigon, and the possibility of the dragon's soul getting mixed in due to her revival magic.

Kabru leaves with a higher opinion of Falin than he did of Laios, because while she seemed fascinated by monsters, she wasn't as crazed about it as him. Plus she didn't offer him a harpy omelette, so that helps.

Chapter 39:

Without the living paintings, they aren't able to quite grasp the mad mage's motives, but are still hopeful that they can talk to him.

And then the shapeshifters happen.

Chilchuck's Falin is an airhead, reflecting her calm demeanor and lack of commanding presence, even though she is ostensibly the leader without Laios around.

Senshi's Falin looks just like his Laios, but with longer hair. They look identical to Senshi.

Falin's Chilchuck is colder and more even-tempered than the real Chilchuck. She appreciates his levelheadedness and maturity.

Falin's Senshi is always spouting fun facts about food and food prep, and is always smiling. Senshi reminds her a lot of her brother's passions.

At first, the group is confused. They seem to be short two fakes. But then they find Falin's Marcille and Marcille's Falin making out in one of the cells. Both are too shy to admit their feelings, but apparently their mental images aren't so shy about it.

Once obvious stuff is out of the way, and equipment has been checked, Marcille and Falin have been found, but Chilchuck's Senshi, Marcille's Chilchuck, and Falin's Chilchuck are still around.

Chapter 40:

Marcille and Falin manage to eliminate Chilchuck's Senshi, since they both get a weird feeling from it, and all three Chilchucks agree it's the right Senshi, practically confirming it to be Chilchuck's.

The Chilchucks prove much trickier, until Falin comes up with an idea. We skipped chapter 13, so Falin suggests the Chilchucks provide their age. Marcille's says 20. Falin's says 45. Chilchuck is able to explain those guesses are way off the mark, and as the only one able to give a proper explanation of half-foot age ranges, he is clearly the correct one.

With all the copies locked up, the shapeshifter gives up and goes to find other prey.

Asebi ambushes the party as normal afterwards.

Chapter 41:

There is a bit of confusion at Asebi's accusations, since Marcille never confessed to using ancient magic, but Asebi overheard her talking about how she may have blended Laios' soul with the dragon, and that is not something someone does on accident. Clearly she must have been using black magic to do something like that.

Nonetheless, Marcille agrees to break the collar's magic, and things proceed the same. Falin attacks the hag with her mace-staff, creating a messier cut, but functionally the same.

The explanation of their goals goes about the same, including Falin being rather happy to meet Izutsumi, though she's a little less weird about it, talking about how Laios was fine before the mage kidnapped him, and that hopefully he'll go back to that state of mind when saved.

Chapter 42:

In Falin's nightmare, the Laigon appears and tries to kill her, but Falin becomes lucid before it can strike.

Falin goes into Marcille's nightmare to help her. Being more experienced with this sort of thing, she is able to calm Marcille down, and cause her to become lucid, dispelling the nightmare without violating Marcille's private traumas.

They then spend the rest of the lucid dream having fun together. I'll let you decide how much those shapeshifter clones inspired their behavior.

Senshi cooks the nightmares, and much to the girls' dismay, the dream is shown for all to see. Everyone agrees not to bring it up again.

Chapter 43:

While searching the recovered packs, Falin is delighted to find the Dungeon Gourmet Guide. She was afraid it had been digested with Laios.

Note: Falin should be seeing the ghost by now, but I don't want to break up the chapter flow, so just assume the ghost got caught in ghost traffic.

Without Laios to block them, Marcille gets impaled by a few stalactites, and Falin has to tend to her. The fight goes as normal.

Izutsumi is able to undress without anyone being weird about it.

When doing the sauna thing, Chilchuck can't help but notice how closely Marcille and Falin are sitting. He tried to block the dream out of his mind, but it's clear that now that the feelings are out in the open, that's just how they're going to act from now on. He just hopes this doesn't cause any issues.

Chapter 44:

Falin finds the boiled mandrake quite tasty, and so doesn't question it when Izutsumi gives her a second.

When arguing over dinner, Falin is just as baffled as Izutsumi regarding the Barometz. As they run over, she flips through the guide, discovering the potential danger a few seconds too late.

Izutsumi and Marcille run off to do their thing. Falin panics and does something dumb. She starts barking. She isn't as good as Laios, but it's enough to scare off the wolves. Chilchuck isn't even surprised at this point.

Chapter 45:

Pretty much goes the same. Toshiro plans to report the Chimera, at least so people know to be wary, and Falin is just as careless with the bell as Laios.

As they eat their eggs, the ghost finally catches up and Falin is happy to chat.

Chapter 46:

Our party arrives in the golden country. Falin wants to check out the monster corrals, just like Laios, but while he was ecstatic about minotaur milking, Falin is much more charmed by the opportunity to pet the basilisk chicks.

Falin becomes extremely flustered at the sight of Marcille in a pretty dress. Unlike Laios, Izutsumi lets her pet her.

Since minotaur was not requested, they are served basilisk cordon bleu.

Sadly, the running joke of turning ghosts into ice cream is dead.

"One shall come who bears a staff of living wood." With Laios out of the picture, Marcille is the lion's next choice of champion.

Marcille really isn't sure what to think about this. Her? Become new queen of the land?

She ultimately gives no conclusive answer, but the possibility of gaining dominion over this land where no one ever dies is tempting.

Marcille and Falin share the double bed, while Chilchuck gets the single bed to himself. At least until Izutsumi curls up on him.

Chapter 47:

Breakfast goes smoothly, and they head back into the dungeon.

Things in the cistern go mostly the same, though Falin also thinks the griffon is Laios. Senshi doesn't panic until the griffon actually appears.

Chapter 48:

Marcille puts her plan into action, and Falin carries her.

With the second familiar, Falin suggests shaping it like a dragonfly, since they are very fast and agile. It isn't as fast as the wyvern, but it dodges a lot easier. The third familiar is still sky fish.

Once the griffon is defeated, Falin suggests eating the sky fish. Marcille objects, but she can't say no to Falin's smile.

And Senshi shares his story.

Chapter 49:

Unlike Laios, Falin doesn't push Senshi to try the griffon. She suggests cooking it, since they don't want to waste good food, but Senshi doesn't have to try it if he doesn't want to.

Senshi decides to go for it. You can decide if he's traumatized further, or if changelings follow logic, and meat without any spores on it (since it was cut from inside the griffon), and was then "washed" by turning it into soup turns back into hippogriff. Senshi tastes the "griffon" soup, and is immeasurably relieved.

Changlings are a lot of fun, but they sure open some plot holes. By all accounts, it should have reverted to hippogriff soup.

Look, this is my silly what-if AU, things don't have to be perfect.

Chapter 50:

Falin is a dwarf now. She sucks at magic, but now she can really smash some heads in.

Falin thinks half-foot Marcille is adorable. Marcille isn't sure what to think of dwarf Falin.

When they reach the door, Falin is surprised when her pet pearlipede crawls out unbidden and unlocks the door.

Despite the disadvantages, Falin's mace proves super-effective against the gargoyles, managing to defeat one, but tiring out while one is still left. They flee through the door.

Now that the party knows she has it (and that it's oddly useful), Falin starts wearing her pet as a bracelet.

While preparing dumplings, Falin ponders if maybe the griffon wasn't actually a griffon, but Chilchuck shuts her down before she can accidentally re-traumatize Senshi.

Chapter 51:

Falin notices Marcille's strong adverse reaction to the news that half-foots only live fifty years, but doesn't say anything.

Falin suggests the possibility of using the changelings on Laios, though unlike him, she doesn't consider that the two halves might change separately. She just imagines them turning the whole Laigon into a gnome or something.

When the last gargoyle arrives, Falin's staff gets knocked out of her grasp, and thrown by the gargoyle.

They use the knowledge from the transformed staff to defeat the last gargoyle. Sadly, Marcille does not get to fly.

Falin washes her staff.

Chapter 52:

Senshi grows curious and asks about Laios. Falin talks about how Laios always had trouble fitting in, and it wasn't until he started dungeon diving that he finally seemed able to make friends and be happy. Falin had dropped out of magic school because she didn't want Laios to be alone.

Marcille starts crying and clinging to Falin. She talks about how she used to hate Laios. But as they adventured together, he became like a brother to her. Falin starts crying too. Izutsumi sits by Chilchuck to avoid all the tears.

Senshi proposes his bacon and eggs plan. Falin can't find any issue with his reasoning, and thinks its a great idea, but Chilchuck points out how long it will take to eat that much meat. They start making plans for the foreseeable future.

Thistle tries to stop the Laigon from eating a walking mushroom, but is unsuccessful.

Chapters 53-85

Chapter 86-Finale

#delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #manga spoilers #anime spoilers #spoilers #falin touden #laios touden #marcille donato #farcille #alternate universe #role swap au #Laios got Eaten #dungeon meshi fanfic #fanfic #chimera laios

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snoopledrooplecheesedoodle · 2 months ago

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A Mermaid's Love (Yandere!Human! Female!Primarina x Trainer! Reader)

Pokemon Primarina GIFfrom Pokemon GIFs

I want to make this perfectly clear, the Primarina is a Pokehuman! I do not feel comfortable writing romantic content for full Pokémon I will write platonic content for them though. This has both a platonic and romantic route to it.

• You grew up as a part of the Seafolk Village spending most of your young life on the ocean.

• One day however you fall off the boat while watching the Mantyke swim and almost drown, when a small blue figure grabs your thrashing body and brings it to the surface.

• You wake up to make contact with a Popplio looking down worried at you. Who's Popplio is it? There's no way its wild! Your parents come rushing over to the beach as they docked their boat. You explain that a Popplio saved you, only for the little seal Pokémon to disappear.

• Your parents no longer feel it safe for you to be a part of the Seafolk Village, so they move to the mainland. However, you secretly sneak out at night to play with the Popplio you befriended. The two of you have a grand time and she even teaches you to swim.

• When you turn ten you receive your first Pokémon a cute little Rowlet, the little owl becomes your constant companion on your new adventures. You decide to complete the island challenge and explore Alola. In this time, you forget all about the beach and the friend who waited for you every day.

• You come back home a fully grown adult and a well-known trainer who is respected for your kind and humble nature. You and your Decidueye decide to relax in your hometown before going on to explore other regions of your world.

• However strange events occur that turn many Pokémon into humans. They still retain their powers as a Pokémon but now are able to interact with humans better. Your Decidueye was thrilled to find out he could talk to you, and it only made the two of you closer.

• One night during a beach barbecue hosted by your parent to celebrate your return, you wander down the beach for some alone time. You never got into training Pokémon for fame so everyone's attention on you was a little draining.

• Your silence is broken as you hear a beautiful soprano voice singing in the distance. You feel compelled to find the source and follow the melody, humming to yourself a bit.

• You see a figure sitting on the rocks and bathing in the moonlight while singing to her heart's content. It was a wild Primarina, a pokehuman too. This was so rare! You never had a water Pokémon before, so you decide to catch her. Stealthily you sneak up with an ultra-ball in hand, hoping to catch her by surprise. The Primarina hears you and turns around, crap she can see you. She chuckles before saying "If you wanted to catch me all you had to do was ask."

• You now had a powerful Primarina on your team, life couldn't be any better. She got on with you right away obeying your every order and soaking up your praise. The same could not be said for your other Pokémon. In fact, she went out of her way to show disapproval for your entire team. Most of it directed at your beloved partner Decidueye. You confront her after she makes your Togedemaru cry.

• "Primarina, if you're going to be a member of my team, you have to get along with everyone, including the other Pokémon." Primarina scoffs before tossing her blue hair. "How can I be expected to work with such weaklings who can't even beat me with type advantage. You deserve so much better my melody."

• You give Primarina the benefit of the doubt and allow her to stay even when she butts heads with your Decidueye, and picks fights with your other Pokémon. You get fed up with how miserable she's making everybody and decide to release her.

• You take Primarina on a stroll as she hums sweetly to herself, happy to have her song all to herself. When you left with no warning she thought it was because she was a weak Popplio and got stronger than most Primarina are supposed to be. Now it all paid off as you came back to her and let her be yours. All she had to do is convince you to get rid of the others and she will be able to have you with no interruptions.

• "My melody you always are so thoughtful, thank you for taking me to my favorite spot." You grimace as she happily splashes about and tugs at your ankles for you to join. You take a deep breath; this won't be easy. "Primarina, there's something I need to tell you."

Primarina is practically glowing with heart eyes her heart beating in her chest frantically. Was this the moment you would confess your love for her? Oh she was so happy, her precious friend cared for her! "...Which is why I have to release you."

She was no ice type, Primarina felt something in her shatter. Clearly this was some mistake, a bad dream, a prank. Her melodious voice sounded like a scratchy record as deep sadness threatened to swallow her whole. "You know I don't like when you make jokes like that my song."

"I'm not joking Primarina, while I love you I can't jeopardize the rest of my team. You and Decidueye are pokehumans which makes you stronger than my regular Pokemon. I need to think about the team."

Primarina doesn't hear you after you declared you 'loved her', so all of her hard work paid off. No matter what you say or do this delusional pokehuman will believe you are putting on a facade to hide your love for her.

If her love is purely platonic you might have an easier time convincing her to calm down. However, if you're her romantic interest, nothing will save you from being kidnapped. Regardless your Decidueye will come out of his pokeball to protect you from the frantic water-fairy type.

While Decidueye tries to fight Primarina he yells for you to leave. However your loyalty to your long time friend is what dooms Decidueye. This battle Primarina isn't playing fair as she pulls out ice moves against the grass Pokemon. While determined Decidueye faints causing Primarina to tut.

"My song you choose this weakling over me, I could kill him right now." Primarina holds a sharp icicle to your other Pokemon's throat, you now had to give into the water pokemon's terms.

Leaving your friends and family behind was a hard choice yet you knew it was the right one. Primarina escaped with you in her grasp only after a bystander finds your injured pokemon. Now you were all Primarina's and she wasn't planning on letting you go.

"My one true song, let us venture to a new region where no one will bother the two of us. I know you're sad but it's better we're together."

#yandere x reader #female yandere #yandere pokemon x reader #pokemon #pokehuman #primarina #yandere #yandere oc #pokemon trainer #yandere platonic #yandere romantic #yandere headcanons #yandere hybrid #mermay 2025 #yandere pokemon #pokemon sun and moon

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botboots · 2 years ago

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Saw that your requests were open so what about TFP cons with an adorkable teen human reader? A really close friend (the emotional support bundle of joy™) that is really artistic, kind, understanding and just a pure cinnamon roll, what would be the bots reaction to the lil' human? Optimus, Ratchet,Bulkhead, Arcee, BB, and if you do the kids then the kids. If not the other bots, stay safe!

im back!! so sorry for the long ass wait, had so much going on in my life recently (graduating, going back home, etc.) but hopefully i'll be back to posting somewhat regularly! tysm for the continuous support :] love seeing the notifs pop up every day this is one of the first asks in my inbox (and i completely forgot that the prompt said reader was part of the cons... whoops) and i've wanted to get it done for a while now! have so many more to get through but will get them done eventually - this isn't the best but its cute <3 and you can 100% tell who my favs are lmao warnings: none word count: 939 (GN reader)

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Optimus:

he finds your outlook on things is a nice change of pace compared to the more pessimistic views that some members of the team can have at times

values your compassion greatly, often turning to you as a confidant over the time you’ve gotten to know each other. a mission went wrong and he’s putting all the blame on himself? you’re there to reassure him in a heartbeat, reminding him that he did his best and there’s always another chance; you keep him grounded

has an innate interest in art and writing - he used to be an archivist, after all

so he enjoys watching you indulge in your hobby, your excitement about it reminds him of his younger years of being a clerk at iacon when he would become giddy over a newfound archaic text

he’s very fond of you and makes sure you know it, taking note of the small things you like and getting you whatever little gift he can manage to find - genuinely thinks you’re cute and likes seeing you happy :]

Ratchet:

while it may have taken him a little longer than the others to warm up to you fully, he grew to start looking forward to your company (despite his his best efforts to hide it)

he appreciates your quiet company; you’re much less rambunctious than both the other humans and his own team - you complain a lot less too, probably one of his favorite qualities about you

like optimus, your bubbly attitude gives him a much needed break from the dreary duties that come with being the autobot medic

you often find yourselves working in tandem, with you sitting on the couch working on your newest project while he stands at his terminal typing away. occasionally you’ll walk over with a nervous smile, and with a roll of his optics he’ll lower a servo for you to climb into and lift you up onto the corner of the console, huffing when you chirp a thank you before the both of you quietly return to your tasks (he enjoys it, really)

while he’s not one to vent his frustrations to you, he’ll always be open to listen to you vent about yours. even if he doesn’t respond with much, he’ll offer logical solutions and observations for whatever issue you’re having

Bulkhead:

the big guy loves art, having been exposed to his fair share of it by miko, and is very encouraging when it comes to your projects

he might not get some of the nuances or meanings of the things you make, but he tries - oftentimes making you laugh a bit at the sheer amount he misses. it’s endearing though, and you appreciate the effort

too fidgety to sit and watch you do anything for too long, but he’ll offer to drive you to a vista for some inspiration while he does his usual scouting routes, miko tagging along of course. she’ll probably bring her sketchbook with her and sit next to you and draw, chattering the entire time while blasting some music from her ipod, offering you one of her earbuds

Arcee:

similar to ratchet she takes a while to get used to you, a little cold at first to your attempts at friendliness

she notices how happy you seem to make everyone else and eventually makes a legitimate pass at being friendly despite how awkward it feels

but with how eagerly you accept it she doesn’t feel as bad, sighing in relief as you immediately start filling her in on how much you’ve enjoyed your time with the autobots

she’s not much of a conversationalist (especially when it comes to humans) so your chattiness is almost a relief - not having to keep up fake interest and energy with someone puts her in a more comfortable position; especially since you’re not one to comment on it like others tend to

will sit and watch you work on whatever your newest project is, a comfortable silence shared between the two of you

rambles about random stuff from her past sometimes - you turn out to be one of the few people she trusts enough to mindlessly dump her thoughts to, both good and bad

Bumblebee:

one of the first to get to know you, overly excited about having a fresh face around

super curious when he sees you working on something, a barrage of questions translated from mechanical chirps and whirrs with the help (and annoyance) of ratchet

he’ll actually try and mimic some of your art on the walls of hidden ditches where he and rafael hang out, excitedly bringing you along to show off his latest work and buzzing happily when you praise it

will eventually, with your encouragement, try and make something original - he ends up finding it pretty soothing and an easier way to feel understood; communicating his feelings without words can be unsurprisingly helpful for someone who can’t use any of his own

you’ll spend hours hanging out and working on your stuff - he likes when you help him with his own art, adding your own brushstrokes to the concrete wall

he’ll let you sit up on his shoulder just to watch him make whatever he feels like making, or even just taking you on joyrides in the desert where he doesnt need to worry about anything going wrong

while it’s usually you, him and raf hanging out he does enjoy spending solo time with you - usually in silence or one-sided conversations, but you understand each other well enough without words

will also figure out what your favorite songs are and surprise you with them; he loves when you get all giddy about literally anything

#NO LONGER DEAD!!#transformers #transformers x reader #transformers fanfiction #tf x reader #optimus prime x reader #ratchet x reader #bulkhead x reader #bumblebee x reader #arcee x reader #tfp x reader #transformers x human reader #tfp ratchet x reader #tfp optimus x reader

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 6 months ago

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About Malleus new years card, given how heavily Japanese culture it goes into. It might be a hagoromo, a white cloth/scarf that floats in the air around a goddess. Given that Malleus is the strongest mage, it might be a symbolism of that. Even so it's used for goddess, Vil and a few others worn clothing meant for women. It wouldn't be unusual to be used for Malleus.

[Referencing this post!]

These asks are all about the fashion of the New Year’s Attire cards and how they relate to Japanese culture, so I thought to combine them ^^

Since I’m responding to three asks in one post and it takes a while to explain things, I’ve placed everything under the cut :> There’s a lot of discussion of Japanese clothing, culture. and folklore in this, so if you’re interested in those topics then you’re in for a treat!!

To the first ask: Though Twst is fairly gender fluid when it comes to dressing its characters, I'm certain that's not a 羽衣 (hagoromo/"feather garment/cloak"; typically worn by celestial women in Japanese mythos). Hagoromo are thinner, longer, and more scarf-like than what is depicted in Malleus's initial card art. You can tell that he's clearly got a sheet that covers his entire body there. The fabric also doesn't appear to be floating like a hagoromo would.

The first two images depict 被衣 (kazuki/katsugi); the latter two images depict 羽衣 (hagoromo); you can see there is a notable visual distinction between them.

To the second ask: It’s possible that the artists looked at kabuki fashion for inspiration, but they most likely did not base the entirety of the New Year’s Attire outfits on that alone. As Yana states in one March 2023 interview, she and her team try to avoid creating outfits that too closely resemble a single real-world culture or brand. To that end, they seem to pull their inspiration from many different cultures and time periods, which is why you'll see a mixture of traditional and modern Japanese elements in the New Year’s Attire.

歌舞伎 or Kabuki, for those who don't know, is classical form of Japanese theatre which mixes dramatic performances with traditional music and dance. I consulted with a few friends who are familiar with Japanese culture (hereby referred to as A-ko, B-ko, C-ko, and D-ko) about the topic and they had some enlightening information to share. Because I am not familiar with the art form or how to gauge it myself, I will be relaying the information provided by those friends in addition to my own research. A-ko informed me that kabuki used to be co-ed (or at least did feature women; the first kabuki troupe formed was all-women) and modern kabuki is all-men. As for the poses, B-ko remarked that they can be considered common "festival dance poses", not strictly kabuki poses. C-ko added, "[...] There is very little, if anything, kabuki-like about the New Year’s cards apart from possibly SOME of the poses [...] Jack is probably the most kabuki we’re going to get because of the dynamic palm thrust and gaudy composition of his attire." The eye makeup being red and of that design also invokes the image of kabuki makeup without it fully committing to its extravagance!

Overall, the group seemed to agree that the New Year’s Attires lack the over-the-top expressions and elaborate costumes of kabuki. There’s also the more obvious lack of full-face stage makeup, but it’s kind of a given that Twst is wouldn’t go this route, especially since the context of these cards is helping out in a store and not putting on a dramatic performance.

On the topic of Malleus and oni (Japanese yōkai, demon, orc, ogre, or troll), I don't think he's intended to look like one??? Sure, he has the horns, but as B-ko said, "[Malleus] always has those horns." Very little in his actual outfit resembles the costume a kabuki actor playing the part of an oni would wear--unless you count the excessive black, as that's a color typically used for oni, but that black is usually paired with red. As for the hair styling, D-ko explained, "Oni usually don't have hair [...]". I find it interesting that some oni masks I found do seem to have hair, but it's usually very sparse omg balding!Malleus real???? and/or a middle part and not the sideways part that Malleus is sporting. Additionally, while oni do have horns, the shape of them is nothing like Malleus’s.

It's true that fur is rarely seen in historical Japanese clothes, but they don't seem to be that common in kabuki either?? According to C-ko, "fur and pelts [...] were a luxury few could afford. Thus, only those people decorated with furs would be royalty or individuals vying for power.

B-ko suggested that the reason why Jack wears fur in his New Year’s Attire isn’t to emulate Kabuki—which tends to feature fluffy wigs, like the one pictured below—but to emphasize his “wolf”-ness and to keep him warm from the cold. C-ko pointed out, however, that “[…] fur accents (like what Jack has) became the trademark for popular and celebrated figures [...] towards the end of the warring states period; when kabuki came into vogue, many plays were inspired by the lives of such personae as well as the legends surrounding them. This is why much of kabuki is characterized by the term basara—of grandeur and ostentatious eccentricity. The actors themselves would not have had access to furs, so they focused instead upon conveying that same sort of energy through their theatrics and outlandish couture. They still used substitutes, of course.” C-ko also added, “The most memorable kabuki roles feature things like fur—which many associate with kabuki.”

Finally, the group altogether said that, “Vil isn’t [dressed like] a geisha. His outfit bears no resemblance to what geisha wears.” 芸者 or Geisha are highly trained Japanese hostesses who entertain guests with song, dance, and conversation—furthermore, there’s a rigorous training process and a very specific appearance they take on. Makeup aside (if Twst is not doing kabuki makeup, why would they do geisha makeup?), a feminine figure and long, flowing kimono is not enough to get the “the look”. B-ko commented, “[…] Calling Vil [dressing like] a geisha just because he wore a feminine kimono […] Like, damn. Does that mean every woman who wears that style [of a] kimono is a geisha now?” It takes considerable time and dedication to achieve this to earn the title; it’s not meant to be taken lightly!

From D-ko, “Overall Vil’s outfit is kinda westernized.” This is due to the hat, gloves, bows, fishnets, and laced collar. A traditional geisha’s outfit lacks the bells and whistles that Vil’s design boasts. The silhouette also seems to be wrong. Why? “Because technically you try to make your silhouette as not curvy as possible when wearing a kimono,” but Vil’s silhouette appears more hourglass-like. The devil is in the details!!

Lastly, to the third ask: Going to skip over talking about Jack's umbrella pose and the kabuki inspiration, since I already addressed that earlier in this post! I'll briefly add that it's not for sure that Malleus is meant to be a certain thing unless Yana and/or her team come out and say it. B-ko agreed, saying "I don't think you can say Malleus is definitely [Ushiwakamaru], since I literally gave [other examples of what] he's dressed like [...] I can understand 'taking inspirations from', though..."

In the final ask, Anon remarks that Jack and Malleus's looks may be inspired by that of 弁慶 (Benkei) and 牛若丸 (Ushiwakamaru), two characters from Japanese folklore. Ushiwakamaru is the nickname of Minamoto no Yoshitsune, who, according to C-ko, "[...] fought and recruited his loyal vassal Benkei in a fabled confrontation on a bridge." While some elements of Jack and Malleus's New Year's Attires resemble what Ushiwakamaru and Benkei are usually depicted wearing--especially Malleus's veil--not all of it matches up. For example, as B-ko notes, "[...] what Malleus is wearing under the veil isn't what Ushiwakamaru is wearing, but looks [like] more of a kannushi (神主/"divine master (of ceremonies; often Shinto clergy)")." B-ko linked this site and recommended checking it out to make clothing comparisons; the kannushi garb was just an item they picked out for similarities on a cursory glance. This brings me back to a point I mentioned in the second ask: Twst's fashion takes inspiration from many sources and blends them.

"I think it really boils down to [Malleus and Jack] evoking the atmosphere of that famous [Ushiwakamaru and Benkei] print," C-ko continues. They drew comparisons between Malleus, a character twisted from Maleficent (commonly depicted with her raven Diablo), and Usiwakamaru, who is the disciple of a tengu {crow/raven yokai). They also compared Jack, a steadfast and virtuous individual, with Benkei, who is a monk with similar traits. Furthermore, in the famous folklore story, Benkei is depicted as having felled 999 men before facing off against Usiwakamaru, a supernatural force. So, like Jack, Benkei is a powerful combatant up against an even more powerful supernatural force, Usiwakamaru/Malleus.

jxxbisbsjJvsjsb I didn’t think we’d be talking about Japanese fashion, history, and folklore to this extent, but here we are 🤩 I hope that, if you’re reading this, maybe you learned something new and interesting from the post!! I know I certainly did while chatting up my friends.

P.S. Thank you to A-ko, B-ko, C-ko, and D-ko for their knowledge and perspectives! Couldn’t have written this without you.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Malleus Draconia #Jack Howl #Vil Schoenheit #notes from the writing raven #jp spoilers #Maleficent #Diablo

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