#i need to stir up activity without actively breaking the timeline | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

erazonpo3 · 4 years ago

Text

WOWM

so What Once Was Mine came out and I read it.

My General Thoughts are that this book was something of a rollercoaster but in like a pop up carnival with dubious safety regulations and diseases in the DIY log flume water kind of way. I had some fun reading it but I also feel like I picked up a rash.

If you're like me and you enjoy picking a book apart for morsels of interesting concepts then you might enjoy it, if you think holy shit why the fuck is a literal real historical serial killer in this book I need to see this then you might enjoy it, if you care about engaging plots and character beats then you probably won't.

If you want to ask me anything specific go ahead, but otherwise for more in depth thoughts: spoilers ahead

Basic Summary of the Plot

Okay so here's the deal. The story has the framing device of two siblings in a cancer ward, where one tells the other a story. I'll get into that later, but that's how it starts. Our actual story starts with a pretty long prologue: We learn that the King & Queen got the Moonflower thinking it was the Sunflower, Rapunzel was born with silver hair, and then baby Rapunzel kills a maid who accidentally hurt her when brushing her hair.

Oh, by the way, Max is a human man named Justin Tregsburg. Yeah.

Anyway, the royal family puts out feelers for legit witches who can safely take care of Rapunzel because the baby is too dangerous, and Gothel shows up to take her away. Queen Arianna visits Rapunzel once (but is only allowed to watch through a peephole) and decides watching another woman raise her child is too painful and throws herself into restoring the kingdom's orphanages instead.

Now we're in the present. Rapunzel is nineteen and she wants to go and see the lanterns (a mourning tradition of the Dead princess in this story). She tries to argue with Gothel but gets shut down, and Gothel makes her kill a chicken to prove the point that she can't go outside because she's too dangerous. However we as the audience already know Gothel plans to sell Rapunzel off as a bride or a servant or a weapon to some other nobles, because she's evil.

Also by the way Gothel still has access to our Sundrop Flower and is using it to live forever that's just a thing that happens in the background.

When Gothel is gone Rapunzel watches as a man (Flynn) stores a satchel in a tree outside of her tower, and that motivates her to leave the tower for the first time. Then she goes back inside the tower with her prize of a crown, and a skink she found and named Pascal. Rapunezl and Gothel have another spat, and Rapunzel decides she will run off to see the lanterns and she will find Flynn and make him her guide.

She ends up at the Snuggly Duckling and she doesn't find Flynn but she does find Gina, a young career criminal girl looking to break the glass ceiling. Gina agrees to help her find Flynn. They find Flynn, and he agrees to help guide Rapunzel to see the floating lanterns for a split reward of the crown with Gina.

The Snuggly Duckling gets burned down by Countess Bathory (yes that Elizabeth Bathory) and the Pub Thugs are pissed about it and also they're helping Rapunzel even though she didn't sing the I've Got A Dream song don't worry about it. We learn that the nobles that wanted to buy Rapunzel are now hunting her down so she can go to auction.

Gina takes them to her adopted mother's cottage. Gina's mother is a white witch, who goes by the name of Goodwife. She doesn't get an actual name she's just The Goodwife. Anyhow, the cottage is a magic safe space (for now) and Goodwife teaches Rapunzel that her hair isn't inherently evil and may not even be all that deadly! Rapunzel learns that her hair has other powers too, like the ability to turn skink Pascal into a sentient Chameleon. Yeah.

Also Goodwife tells Rapunzel she's the dead princess but this isn't like, an immediate call to action. Not a lot happens until we get this story's version of the Mother Knows Best Reprise where Gothel finds Rapunzel again but has to flee, but this Rapunzel has a bigger support network and isn't buying it. Flynn and Gina decide the safest course of action is to bring Rapunzel to the castle, but along the way she gets kidnapped by the Countess.

Gothel is pissed because she still wants the money for Rapunzel, so she rallies the armies of all the opposing bidders. Flynn and Gina convince Max the Man to send for his troops, and he joins them in going to the enemy castle. Flynn tries to sneak in, gets caught, and meanwhile there's a bloody battle out the front between the noble armies. Max jumps into the fray, Gina turns around and rallies the Pub Thugs.

Rapunzel uses her shrinking magic (!) to disappear half the castle and escape with Eugene, and the Pub Thugs arrive and basically end the battle. The Captain is dying but it's okay! Rapunzel turns him into a horse :) Also Rapunzel sees Gothel and tells her to fuck off.

The story ends with a tearful reunion between Rapunzel and her parents, Eugene and Gina are implied to be biological siblings, and things are good but of course in direct parallel to Cass Gina leaves at the end to become an adventurer. The end.

(There are a few other smaller plot beats, but you get the idea.)

MY THOTS

So here are my thoughts™.

Framing Device

I'll just state that I didn't like that the story was told via the vehicle of an older brother telling his 16 year old sister a different version of the Tangled Movie in a cancer ward. From what I've heard it also isn't normal for the Twisted Tales series to use a framing device for the AUs either.

I sympathise with the author's personal story, of course I do. That doesn't mean I'm stirred with compassion every time the flow of the story is interrupted to remind you to be sad because this is a story being told to a girl sick with cancer. It feels more than a little tragedy-porny rather than emotionally touching, and maybe that's because I'm too burnt out on real life tragedy to waste emotional energy on fictional cancer patients but we don't need to do Fault In Our Stars discourse again.

Real World References

This story goes heavy with Real World references. And another issue with the framing device as above is that you do feel like this is a story being told by someone namedropping every historical figure they know which makes it harder to get into the story.

There's like... a lot of references to Christianity, particularly in the prologue. There's a priest that thinks Rapunzel's hair is the work of the Devil or whatever. It's a lot. The Patriarchy is a thing. And that's not even getting into the Countess. I put it very succinctly in my notes so I'll paste it here:

I wish she’d just been an OC who could exist to chew scenery because the fact that she was a literal historical serial killer is super. Off putting. Like, she could have been an obvious reference to Bathory, but it feels like Miku Binder Hamilton levels of uncomfortable to me.

I miss Lady D.

Which basically sums up my problem with trying to take the setting of Tangled and put it somewhere in the Real World and somewhere on the Timeline. Who thought this was a good idea.

Misc. Thoughts

So, I used the five highlighter colours my ipad allows to organise my thoughts and organised them accordingly: Yellow for out of place IRL references, Blue for worldbuilding/character points that aren't plot relevant but still interesting, Pink for when something I find personally amusing happens, Purple for when the story feels like it's trying to 1-up the movie in some kind of way and Green for Heterosexual Nonsense. I'll touch on those last two in the Character sections but be prepared.

Also: for a book about giving Rapunzel killer hair, her hair isn't very dangerous. I wanted to see Rapunzel kill someone, and I'm disappointed that I didn't.

Characters

I'll do a deep dive into my thoughts about the characters before wrapping it up. I'm starting with Gina because she's honestly the easiest to get through.

Gina

Gina is a new character introduced for the story. She's a young woman trying to make it as a career criminal but keeps hitting that glass ceiling. So here's the down low, for all those who want to know: Gina is basically Cass, only not really. She's implied to be Eugene's biological sister, as previously mentioned, but you can imagine she's Cass the entire way through without breaking your immersion because if you imagined Cass if she were adopted by a Goodwitch rather than the Captain and had a looser, more wilderness survivor than trainee guard upbringing then you get Gina.

I liked Gina! I think she's fun as her own character too, and her best moments are when she's interacting with her mother Goody Goodwife, and she of course picks up a natural sibling rivalry with Eugene, but I was disappointed with how little she really bonded with Rapunzel because she needed to make room for Eugene and Rapunzel's romance.

Rapunzel

Okay, here's our protagonist. There's a notable effort to make Rapunzel more active in her destiny and whatever, and sometimes it works but sometimes it doesn't. I was worried they'd try to go full butt-kicking girlboss with her but I was pleasantly surprised that Rapunzel was pretty useless in most scenes, genuinely love to see it.

With a more intimate look into Rapunzel's psyche through the medium of prose, we see Rapunzel really questioning Gothel's behaviour even before she leaves the tower, and while I appreciate that she can develop her own cynicism I feel it starts unnecessarily early. This is my purple colour; the movie needs to be "fixed" by showing the readers that this Rapunzel is quicker to distrust Gothel. She's also quicker to hatch a plan to go outside of the tower on her own, and she makes a plan to make Flynn her guide for the lanterns even though he never stumbles upon her in the tower- and even though she has a perfectly rational reason not to trust him which is that he is a stranger and a Wanted Thief.

In the moments where it does work is when Rapunzel is surrounded by her new support network: Flynn, Goodwife and Gina, who encourage her to question Gothel's sincerity, and Rapunzel comes up with her own defences for Gothel so that she can poke through them herself.

I have some other thoughts about Rapunzel's hair and her powers, like how the story provides the interesting concept that her hair gets different powers with the different phases of the moon, but a lot of the powers are uhhh stupid and also I feel like it really robs the story of the whole gripping conflict of "Yes I'm Rapunzel Yes my hair kills people what of it".

In as far as just Rapunzel herself though, she still felt pretty in character nonetheless, and maybe that's all I can ask.

Flynn Rider / Eugene Fitzherbert

My boy I am so sorry. They neutered my boy.

Long story short: Eugene in this story is the sexy lamp. He contributes nothing to the plot except to be there for Rapunzel to drool over. And of course because he won't get any character development, he starts from the very beginning as a sweet soft boi with none of the Flynn Rider characterisation from the movie because we don't have time for that, he needs to be husband material stat.

His whole character is the colour green for Heterosexual Nonsense.

So, here's the problem. In the movie, there's not a lot of time for ~friendship~ between Rapunzel and Eugene because they kind of immediately see each other as a romantic prospect. And whatever, it's a movie and there's only so much time. But this book had the opportunity to take things a bit slower and instead chooses to make Rapunzel get jealous whenever Eugene and Gina interact and for her to be constantly wishing he was holding her hand.

Say what you will about Lost Lagoon, but it tells a good romance story just by virtue of not intending to be a romance story, because the author is trying to convey a strong bond between Rapunzel and Cassandra without using "and they kiss" as a cheatcode. What Once Was Mine says "he was a boy, she was a girl, could it be any more obvious?" and leaves it at that.

Now as for how this all pertains to Eugene's character? Well, it just robs him of any flavour. In the movie there's a clear distinction between Flynn and Eugene, when we learn Eugene's real name about halfway through. We see a clear difference between the Flynn we knew- kind of an asshole, wanated to drop Rapunzel off at the Snuggly Duckling and get rid of her- and Eugene, who is sincere and chooses Rapunzel as his New Dream in opposition to his Old Dream of living alone on an island with a bunch of money.

This version of Eugene is basically Eugene all the way through, because the plot doesn't really need Eugene there but he has to be there because it's a Tangled AU so there's no Rapunzel rescuing Flynn from the guards and healing his hand scene, he just loves her immediately and that's that. They have a little spat at one point but it's cleared up later and not because they actually communicate but because they kiss.

Rapunzel only learns Eugene's real name at the very end of the story, and gives a speech about how Eugene is the real him, but it's just so flat because 'Flynn' has been sincere this whole time? Anyway he does nothing of value for the entire story except be there for Rapunzel to lust after. Eugene I'm so sorry.

Gothel

Gothel's sort of the Big Bad and is characterised as an abusive asshole, the usual. I wish there were a bit more nuance to her character but then again in this story she's not just being passively evil- taking care of Rapunzel for selfish reasons but nevertheless maintaining the status quo- she's being actively evil in trying to sell Rapunzel off.

It's notably funny that Gothel sees the Countess Bathory and is like "what the fuck".

Anyway Gothel in this story also feels very weak in part because this Rapunzel is more critical and in part because this Rapunzel has a new support network. It's for that reason the Mother Knows Best Reprise scene doesn't really work, because the original has Gothel pit Rapunzel against Eugene, whereas she can't do that here so it remains a Gothel vs Rapunzel thing.

She gets a boring death as an epilogue addendum that someone rips out the Sundrop flower, which tbh? lame. It would be a lot more fun if it were open ended but I am also preferential to Rapunzel actually using her killer hair to kill someone. Please

Captain Justin Tregsburg

It's Max. He was a human but then he got turned into a horse. what the fuck you guys

#how did you spend your day

36 notes · View notes

itsjustmyfantasyroom · 4 years ago

Text

Unlikely Lovers Chapter 9

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Thank you again for all the comments and likes for this series. @beccabarba and I adore Nick so much, and there is so much love he misses out on.

Warnings: Based on a scene in Mayan’s. Talks of SVU style case. female receiving. Nick being all cute and soft. Slight swearing.

WC: 1807

Enjoy x

When you transferred to SVU, you had been warned that some cases would get under your skin. This was nothing new, over in Cold Case you’d often been caught up in a fight for justice, often for victims many years gone. You’d been able to see wrong-doers who thought they’d got away with it, punished families finally given some peace. Even when you’d been back in uniform, you’d been known for both your tenacity and your compassion.

SVU was a whole new ball game though. To see victims struggling to prove a crime had even been committed in the first place, the pain of being disbelieved and gaslighted, the brutality of the defence counsel questions, the haunted look in some of the victim’s eyes as they attended a line up or looked through a photo array. The everyday cruelty you found yourself dealing with. And the child victims were even worse. Liv had told you, so had Fin, that it never really got better, no matter how many years you worked with these cases, but you found ways to deal with it. Usually by putting the perps away. Sometimes just by offering comfort and self-respect to the victims. You know Nick still found it hard, and he’d even said he didn’t think he wanted to work SVU for his whole career, because he never wanted to grow numb to these crimes, or get used to it. You’d had long talks with him about it, into the night, and he told you how worried he was as a father, knowing how cruel the world could be. You knew he worried especially about Zara, and he would grow angry when you talked about the gendered nature of much of the danger in the world.

So, when a case came in that involved a girl of Zara’s age, you were glad that Amanda and Fin took it. Soon, however, it became clear that the girl’s case was just the tip of the iceberg, and you were drawn into a lot of investigation, doing a lot of desk-based research and due diligence, while Amanda and Fin were interviewing suspects and witnesses. Nick was tied up in a court case, on Barba’s witness list as the detective who had heard a victim’s disclosure at Mercy hospital, but expecting a hard time from the defence. Defence attorneys loved to pick apart his record, his undercover indiscretion and his previous issues with anger. You’d asked him if he wanted you in court to watch, but he’d said he’d rather not. So, while Nick was distracted with prep with Barba – never his favourite activity – and feeling stressed about the trial, you were increasingly drawn into the case, helping Fin and Amanda.

Of course, the trial was only a few days. But you were still working on the case when Nick was all done – without too much pain – and ready to relax with you in the evenings again. It was way past dinner time when he came into the squad room with a takeout bag in his hand and put it down in front of you, right on top of the papers you were reading.

“Nick? What’s this?” You looked up at him, slightly irritated to be interrupted.

“It’s Lo Mein, egg rolls and Chinese broccoli. For two,” he said, simply, raising his eyebrows as if he was daring you to argue. “I know you’ve not eaten today.”

“Not true,” you protested, thinking back through the day.

“A dounut for breakfast and a power bar from the vending machine don’t count.” He shook his head in mock disapproval, unmoved by your frown. “Look, I get it. You can work all night if it’s what you need. But you’ve got to take breaks, baby, got to rest. And if you can’t look after yourself, I’ll do it for you.”

The tension in you softened and you gave him a tired smile. “You know, they say cops shouldn’t date each other, but you get it. It’s one of the things that makes this work so well, Nick. You don’t find it weird that I want to keep working.”

“No. But I’m going to make sure you’re fed.” He grinned. “Come on, let’s eat. Then you can decide if it’s time to take a break and come back to mine with me.”

“I think I’m too tired for what you’re thinking of…” you gave him a knowing look.

“I’m thinking of holding you in my arms and making sure you sleep.” He reached out a hand and stroked your head, giving you a little wink. “Now, do you want an egg roll? Before they go cold?”

You did go home with Nick that night, getting a few hours’ sleep before your phone rang at dawn, Amanda telling you they’d got a new lead. The development only led to more intense work: Cold Case had prepared you well for combing through records and documents, and Fin and Amanda really valued your attention to detail. All the time, you thought about the little girl who had started this case, who looked so much like Zara. The next night you slept in the break room, and the following night you crawled back to your own place for a few hours, apologising to Nick by text, promising to see him soon. You missed him, but you were preoccupied.

By the following day, Barba was certain there was enough evidence for an indictment and you were just tying up loose ends. But you wanted to be sure, since the perp was part of a criminal circle, that there was no one out there to carry on hurting more kids. You took some case files home, to read through and spot any discrepancies. You invited Nick to come back to yours, since you were missing him, and you’d managed to take your mind off the case for long enough to cook dinner with him – a tomato and pasta dish that was one of your specialities – and then Nick had gone to take a shower.

While he was in the shower, a sudden thought came to you about the timeline of one of the crimes, and you picked up one of the files to have another read through. Mindlessly, you went to slouch on your bed, legs bent up and file perched on them, eyes already on the details of the document. The smell of Nick’s eucalyptus and mint shower gel teased around the edges of your senses, but you were absorbed in the detail of your reading again.

You were suddenly aware of the bathroom door opening and closing, and Nick wandering slowly into the bedroom, dressed in just a towel. He stopped just inside the door, giving you a long look, heavy with intent.

“Nick?” you demanded, raising an eyebrow as he came closer. “Good shower?”

He ignored your question. Looking him up and down, his skin still damp from the shower, a white towel wrapped low around his hips, you felt the stirrings of arousal low in your body. “Whatcha reading?” he asked, knowing the answer perfectly well.

“I was just checking something,” you said, shrugging.

“The case is nearly done, right?” he asked.

“Yes,” you admitted.

“So, you have time to take a real break.”

“Yes,” you said softly. He was looking at you evenly. He took another step closer and reached for the file you were still holding, pulling it out of your hands and off your lap. You let him, watching as he closed it and put it on the bedside table.

“I think it’s my job to make sure you do,” he said in a low tone, turning back to you.

His eyes were intense on you. He took a step closer to the bed, his right hand going to lean on your pillow that you were leaning against and as he went to get onto the bed, Nick placed his hand on the inside of your right knee and pushed your legs wide apart, moving to settle between them. You took a deep breath to try and control the overwhelming arousal that was pulsing through you. You melted into the bed, sliding down slightly as Nick hovered above you and he licked his top lip before his lips crashed on yours, his tongue darting into your mouth, your hand on his pecs squeezing them slightly, as Nick rolled his towel covered hips into your covered core.

Mid kiss, you felt one of Nick’s hands slide up the side of your thigh, up your sleep shorts leg and run along the edge of your panties. You gasped into his mouth when you felt his fingers brush up along the edge of your lower lips. You broke the kiss, your jaw going slack and you moaned loud, pushing your hips into his fingers. Nick’s face didn’t soften, his brows still frowned, but his eyes soft and loving. Nick’s fingers plunged into you, two at first, thrusting them in and out of you, before he added a third, a welcome stretch, and you shivered when his thumb met your sensitive pearl.

Your hands came up to grab onto his shoulders, your nails leaving half-moon indents on his beautiful tanned skin, and he slightly hissed from the sting,

“Nick-I…” you groaned, “I’m-“

Nick narrowed his eyes at you and thrusted his fingers into you harder and deeper, curling them up to hit your sweet spot and rubbing circles with his thumb. Your eyes fluttered shut as incoherent words left you and your body was covered in goosebumps, when you were pushed over the edge, wave after wave of hot arousal flooding all your senses. Your eyes fluttered open a little bit later, after you mostly settled your heavy breathing, meeting Nick’s face biting his bottom lip and a playful eyebrow raised. He didn’t take his eyes off yours as he pulled his fingers out of you after he sat back on his haunches.

You sat up quickly and grabbed his wrist, wrapping your fingers around it, you reached over with your other hand pulling on the towel and it fell off from around his waist, his extremely hard, weeping cock standing to attention. You reached down with your free hand wrapping your hand around him, moving it up and down, and you brought his fingers to your lips, pushing them into your mouth, licking them clean while you jerked him off.

Nick’s head fell back, groans spilling from his mouth. You pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a pop, kissing the tips of them and then reaching down with that hand to cup Nick’s balls,

“Fuck, Y/N…”

Nick opened his eyes, and his hands came up to rest on your cheeks,

“You are so good to me Nick, always looking after me. Now let me look after you.”

Tags: @wanniiieeee @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @randofando-spoonie @alwaysachorusgirl @amorestevens @harryssxnflwr @teamsladsandgents @thatesqcrush @storiesofsvu @skittle479 @bisexual-dreamer02 @glimmerglittergirl @witches-unruly-heart @berniesilvas @ben-c-group-therapy @elektriknachosss

#nick amaro #nick amaro x reader #nick amaro x you #nick amaro smut #detective nicolas amaro #nicolas amaro #nick amaro x #nick amaro and reader #law and order svu #SVU fanfiction #SVU FANDOM #svu fan #svu x reader

37 notes · View notes

seanfalco · 4 years ago

Text

Morning Affection | Misfits Timeline Anomaly’verse

an oc x oc collaboration between @seanfalco & @super-unpredictable98

Word Count: 3.3k Warnings: Language, Smut (you know, the usual) a/n: Just an early morning shag session. You know how we do.

[ masterlist ]

——

It wasn’t long before Win had fallen asleep while listening to Hamilton, the alcohol and their extracurricular activities from earlier having completely wiped her out. Curled up on the bed, she sought the closest warm body as she slept to snuggle up to. Win’s Nathan, however, listened riveted as Lyddie softly sang along to the music and explained the plot to him, answering his questions as he played with her hair, twisting one of the long strands between his fingers.

"So a lot of people have theories about why Eliza gasps at the end..." Lydia started. "Some people think she's dying and seeing her husband, some people think she sees the audience and realizes his story has been told... sorry, I'm rambling again." Lydia noticed Nathan's slightly confused look and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for doing this for me."

"I like t'hear yeh talk about stuff you're interested in," he admitted, grinning softly at her.

"That's cute... but you must be getting tired, it's like four in the morning," she laughed, and looked over her shoulder. Win and the other Nathan were snuggled up. "Do you wanna..."

At her words a yawn cracked Nathan's jaw and he stifled it with his fist. "Yeah, c'mere," he said as he settled down in the bed, holding his arms open to her.

Lydia sighed as she found a comfortable position in his embrace. She was too exhilarated to fall asleep at first, but she felt great. "I love you," she whispered, somewhat hoping he wouldn't hear it.

For a moment Nathan froze. Had he heard her correctly? Swallowing, he tightened his arms around her, pressing his face into her hair.

“I... I love yeh too,” he murmured softly, finding that he meant it.

Lydia bit her lip not to make a sound, but her eyes filled with tears. Happy tears this time.

She was finally able to fall asleep.

It was early, by the weak sunlight that filtered through the blinds, and Win groaned as she stirred, her head suddenly throbbing painfully and she let out a choked sob, squeezing her eyes shut tighter.

"Good mornin', love," Lyddie's Nathan was up. "Oh, I have somethin' for ya, don't move." He kissed Win's forehead and left for the kitchen, coming back as quickly as he could with a glass of water and a couple of pills. "For your head."

"Oh, thank you," she murmured, gratefully taking the glass and popping the pills in her mouth before tipping them back. "Ohhh, I shouldn't have drank so much last night," she muttered, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. "I feel like such an idiot," she grumbled.

"You're not an idiot, you should've seen me in New York. One night I went into this Irish pub... Jesus," Nathan laughed. "Besides, it was pretty entertainin' when Lyddie was on stage and you asked her t'flash us..."

Win chuckled, though it only made her head hurt worse. "Oh yeah, she turned so red, it was adorable," Win murmured, leaning against Nathan as she glanced over at Lydia, sleeping soundly in her Nathan's arms, glad that they seemed to have mended the rift from last night.

"Are you hungry?" Nathan draped his arms around her. "I could make somethin' if y'want."

The thought of eating made Win's stomach turn, but she figured she should probably put something in there. It might help. "You're sweet," she murmured softly, pressing her face to his chest. "Maybe some toast or something?" she murmured.

"Sure, how'd y'know toast is my specialty?" Nathan joked, taking Win's hand as they both left the room.

Win giggled softly as she followed Nathan to the kitchen. "Oh really? Lucky me, then," she murmured, a warm feeling twisting in her heart.

"I thought you said toast was your specialty," she teased as the two slices popped up completely black and charred.

"Well, this is the toaster's fault! It wasn't me," Nathan pretended to be scandalized as he put two other slices of bread in. "I'm the best toast maker in Europe!"

"Uh huh, blame the toaster, so convenient," Win teased further, pushing herself up to sit on the counter as she watched Lyddie's Nathan toss the ruined slices into the bin.

"Are you sayin' that I'm a bad chef, missy?" Lyddie's Nathan leaned over the counter to stare Win in the eye. "Cause I don't think y'have much room t'talk here..."

Win gasped dramatically, fighting back a smile, which would completely ruin her fake indignation. "As if you've ever tried my food before!"

"I don't have to! Your Nathan and I have the same taste buds, I trust his judgment..." Lyddie's Nathan taunted. "Only Lydia can stomach your food."

Win scoffed, crossing her arms petulantly over her chest. "What, y'scared? Just because my Nathan says somethin' doesn't mean you hafta agree with him," she exclaimed, half playfully. "At least Lyddie loves me..." she grumbled.

"I'm just sayin' the taste can't be much better than the smell..." Lyddie's Nathan shrugged with a shit-eating grin. "I love you too, darlin', but I'm not lookin' t'get food poisoning," it wasn't until the words were out of his mouth that he noticed what he just said.

Win’s grin faltered. Had she heard that correctly? “Did you just...?” she whispered, feeling a shiver run through her.

"Yeah," Lyddie's Nathan took Win's hand, hoping he didn't sound stupid. "I love you."

Win’s eyes widened as looked up at the Nathan before her and she gave his hand a tentative squeeze. “I love you too,” she whispered, biting her lip to keep it from trembling softly.

"Thank God, that could've been awkward," Lyddie's Nathan found himself repeating the words he said the first time he confessed his love to someone. His fingers danced around Win's cheek as he kissed her gently.

Win reached for Lyddie’s Nathan’s shirt, pulling him closer, between her legs as she kissed him back just as gently, though with a fervor behind it, just barely restrained.

"Hmmm," Lyddie's Nathan turned off the toaster without breaking the kiss, while instinctively pulling Win closer with his hand on the small of her back.

“I think I’d rather have you than that toast,” Win murmured between kisses, her eyes flicking up to Lyddie’s Nathan’s before her lips trailed to his neck.

"Oh," Lyddie's Nathan shuddered under Win's touch, his cock responding immediately. "Yeah, I'm probably better at shaggin' than makin' toast."

Win laughed. “Is that so? Does that mean you’re the best lover in all of Europe too, then?” she teased, throwing his own words back at him as she palmed his erection through his underwear.

"No... that means I'm the best lover in all the universe," Lyddie's Nathan quickly shed his shirt with a soft moan as he felt Win's hand on him.

"Mmm, lucky me," Win purred, kissing down his chest, letting her teeth graze his skin as her mouth found his nipple, circling it slowly with her tongue as she massaged his clothed erection.

"Jesus..." Lyddie's Nathan gasped, that's a spot he has never been touched before, and he was confused by how much he liked it. "Oh, I wanna shag your brains out," he groaned.

Win's breath hitched at his words, arousal pooling between her thighs as she lifted her face to smirk up at him. "D'you like that, Natty?" she asked coyly, switching to his other side, giving him a light nip as he pulled her hips closer to the edge.

"Yeah!" Lyddie's Nathan moaned, by now he was rock hard. "Let's get you out o'this, shall we?" he pulled Win's shirt (his shirt?) over her head, exposing her bare chest.

"Oh!" Win gasped as the cold hair hit her bare skin. "I don't think you need these either," she mused, easing his underwear down as well, wetting her lips.

"No, we don't..." Lyddie's Nathan murmured, letting his underwear slide down his legs, leaning in to take Win's nipple between his lips and she moaned as she arched against Nathan's mouth, stroking his cock while her other hand buried in his curls.

"Oh, baby, so wet..." Lyddie's Nathan mumbled as his fingers explored between Win's legs. "Y'wanna shag on the couch or here?" he waggled his brows suggestively.

"I want you right here," Win gasped, "I want you t'fuck me right here Nathan. Oh, please take care of me," she whimpered as his fingers teased her.

"I love t'see you like this," Lyddie's Nathan kissed Win's neck hungrily, while thrusting slowly into her, savoring the moment. "Is this what you want?"

“Yes,” Win moaned, dropped her free hand to the counter behind her to stabilize herself as Lyddie’s Nathan filled her. “Yes, I want you so bad. Tell me how much you want me,” she begged, wrapping her legs around his waist.’

"I want you so much, baby, I want every last bit," Lyddie's Nathan moved vigorously, as his lips desperately searched for Win's, his hand idly kneading her breasts.

“Oh f-fuck, Nathan! You can have me. You can have all of it!” Win cried, desperately holding on as he fucked her harder, her hand slipping down to the back of his neck to pull him closer, their breaths mingling as she kissed him sloppily, her hips meeting each of his rough thrusts, pushing him deeper. “I’m close!” she murmured breathlessly between kisses, her eyes finding his, wanting to watch him as she came.

"Mine, you're mine, Winnie..." Lyddie's Nathan murmured in between kisses, his thrusts getting more erratic as he watched Win carefully, wanting to see her pleasure. "Come for me, baby, be a good girl."

"You should know, I'm never a good girl--" Win purred, gasping at a particularly hard thrust, her mouth falling open. "--but for you I-I will be," she cried, throwing her head back as she came, holding onto him desperately.

Win's words made Lyddie's Nathan smirk. "Yes you will, baby," he held tightly to her as re released, breathing heavily against her skin. "Jesus... You're so... amazing."

Win pulled Lyddie's Nathan to her, burying her face in the crook of his neck. "Oh, I love you," she panted. "I love you, Natty," she repeated, not wanting to pull away.

"I love you too, darlin' so much," Lyddie's Nathan nuzzled Win's hair, leaving kisses all over her neck and her shoulder. "D'you still want your toast? It's ready," he chuckled.

Win chuckled, reaching for the toast. "I definitely worked up an appetite.

——

Lydia heard voices coming from the other side of the room and her eyes fought to stay closed, until she finally managed to wake up, or almost. "Hey," she yawned shifting in Win's Nathan's arms, pressing her lips on his shoulder, his words from the night before still in her head.

"Hmm?" Win's Nathan hummed without opening his eyes, blindly pressing his lips to whatever skin he could find.

"Good morning, Nats," she purred running her fingers through his messy curls, watching the gentle movement of his chest. "How did you sleep?"

"Fantastic," he murmured, moaning softly as he stretched. "You?"

"Me too," Lydia smiled, the other side of the bed was empty. She wondered where the others were, but then she smelled burnt toast and huffed a laugh. "I was dreaming about you."

"Bout me?" Win's Nathan asked, his lips twitching into a grin as he opened his eyes, taking in the sight of Lydia in his arms. "What sort o' dreams?" he wondered, noticing as well that it was just the two of them. "Knowin' you they were probably pretty dirty, huh?" he teased.

"Nathan!" Lydia giggled, hiding her blushing face in the crook of his neck. "If you really wanna know, there were dirty parts, but also romantic parts," she sighed.

Win's Nathan's smiled against the top of Lyddie's head, stroking his fingers through her hair. "Oh, even better!" he exclaimed with a laugh. "I'm not so good at th'romance part, so I'm sure dream me was a lot better," he mused.

"That's not true, you just have your own way to be romantic and... I happen to like that way." Lydia murmured softly. "I have a thing for guys who are obnoxious, cocky, kinda gross sometimes... you're just my type."

Nathan huffed a laugh, a strong wave of fondness overtaking him at Lydia's words. "I guess I'm really lucky then to have found two girls that seem t'like that about me," he murmured, watching her face carefully.

Lydia nodded trailing kisses all over his neck. "You really are. And we were lucky to find the perfect twat that checks all of our boxes. My father would be so proud..." she mocked.

Nathan moaned softly as her lips brushed against his skin and he grimaced as he felt his cock twitch in his briefs. This is a sweet moment, y'twat, don't go and get horny now, he told himself, though it didn't really help any.

"Y-yeah, we're all lucky," he breathed, snorting softly. "I'm pretty sure no fathers would be proud t'have me for a son-in-law though. Win's made that clear enough." What are you doin' bringing that up for? Especially when you're gettin' turned on? Nathan thought with a grimace. Though maybe that'll help calm y'down...

"Mine would, he's a lot like you actually, he's so funny and..." Lydia stopped talking as she felt Nathan's bulge against her thigh. She looked up at him with a smirk. "Did I do something, Natty?"

Win’s Nathan cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s just... y’know, mornin’ wood, that’s all. Plus... your lips felt—“ he cut off to clear his throat again when his cock twitched against her leg.

"You like my lips, huh..." Lydia whispered, kissing the tender spot where his neck connects with his jaw. Usually her partners are always the ones teasing her, it wasn't often she had the chance to tease someone.

“Yeah, they’re nice, v-very nice,” Win’s Nathan breathed, “if y’keep that up, I’m gunna have a full on boner, darlin’,” he pointed out, though his hand slid down her waist to her ass, pulling her closer to his hips.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Lydia's kisses moved to his chest while her hand snaked down his body, resting dangerously on his thigh. "Maybe I want you to."

“Ohhhh Lollipop, it would definitely not be a bad thing,” Win’s Nathan murmured, giving her bum a firm squeeze. “I just didn’t wanna ruin a perfectly romantic moment with my cock havin’ a mind of it’s own, but if that’s what y’want...” he trailed off grinding slightly against her thigh.

“What's more romantic than a morning shag?" Lydia chuckled softly, rolling on top of Win's Nathan and letting her hair brush lightly against his skin. "You didn't ruin anything, usually I'm the one horny at inappropriate times."

“Just one more thing t’love about yeh,” he mused, Nathan’s hands sliding under Lydia’s shirt, well... technically it was one of his... or his clone’s... he supposed it didn’t really matter much as they pretty much shared their wardrobes anymore. “D’you know how hot it is t’see you wearin’ our shirts?” he asked, pushing it up to bare her breasts.

"Is it? That's good to know... Cause I love to wear them," Lydia leaned in to capture Nathan's lips, while her hand palmed his clothed boner. "I wanna do with you what we were doing in my dream..."

“Ohhh,” Win’s Nathan shuddered at her touch, “and what pray tell, exactly were we doin’, hmm? I’m very interested,” he murmured, as he kissed her back eagerly.

"I was riding you," Lydia ran her hands over his arms, rolling her hips teasingly against his cock. "I haven't done that in so long... I miss it."

Nathan's eyes widened. "Please ride me, Lyddie baby, I wanna see those lovely tits of yours bouncing up and down as you bounce on my cock," he groaned, running his hands up her thighs.

Win's Nathan's excitement made Lydia even hotter, her own Nathan has been very scared to let her ride him ever since... The Incident. "Yeah? I bet you love the view, don't you, Natty?" Lydia slowly pulled his underwear down, leaning in to lick his tip.

"Ohhhhh, yeah baby, you have such lovely tits," Win's Nathan exclaimed, his words melting as he felt her tongue. "Jesus, your mouth--" he gasped, his head falling back against the pillow behind him.

Intoxicated by his praise, Lydia took his cock in her mouth with one fluid motion, humming as she moved her head up and down. "You like that, baby?"

"Holy-- yes!" he yelped, watching open mouthed as Lydia's head bobbed up and down, her tongue gliding over his throbbing cock.

Lydia let him slide out of her mouth slowly. "As much as I wanna taste you..." she got up to her knees, positioning herself on top of him. "I want you to fill me up."

"God, yes, I wanna feel how tight yeh are," Win's Nathan exclaimed, grabbing hold of her hips as he thrust up into her. "Ohhh, yeah, that's the ticket baby."

Lydia was a bit nervous, to say the least, as she took him in, but she was also enjoying it, picking up speed as her confidence grew. "Oh, Nats, that feels so good!"

Win's Nathan bit his lip as as he watched Lydia bounce on top of him, riding him with abandon and he couldn't help but buck up into her enthusiastically, watching her tits as they jiggled and bounced hypnotically. He always liked it best when Win would get on top, it only made sense that he'd like it just as much with his other girlfriend. Plus the fact that Lyddie didn't get to do it often only made him feel more special.

"Talk dirty to me, Nathan," Lydia begged, one hand on his shoulder and the other preventing her hair from falling on her face. She didn't even remember why she was so scared, only how much she missed it.

“Oh yes, you dirty little thing, fuck, y’feel so good on my cock, so tight and wet baby, you’re so fuckin’ hot, love,” be babbled, breathing heavily as he guided her hips. “Tell me how much y’like it. I wanna hear you moan, Lollipop!”

"I fucking love it!" Lydia moaned, hoping to not disturb the others outside, but unable to keep quiet as she felt her pleasure growing steady. "You feel so good inside me, Nathan, I need you so bad."

“That’s right baby, I want yeh t’be loud! You’re so sexy when you’re loud!” Win’s Nathan exclaimed, already close, holding back to make sure Lydia came first. He was a gentleman, after all.

"Fuck, Natty! You make me feel so good, are you close? I wanna come with you," Lydia cried pressing her forehead to his. "I want you to fill me up as I come for you."

"Yeah I'm close, been holding back for you baby," he exclaimed. "I'll paint your insides white Lollipop, I'll fill yeh up," he groaned, letting himself come as he pulled her down to his chest so he could kiss her.

Lydia came loudly, never taking her eyes from Win's Nathan. "Yes! Oh please, please..." she whimpered before collapsing on top of him. "Oh my God, I love you."

"I love yeh, too," Win's Nathan murmured in awe as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. "How'd I get so fuckin' lucky?" he whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear.

"I'm the lucky one..." Lydia looked up to kiss Win's Nathan's cheek. "I lost a Nathan once, now I have two, and Win! Sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure this is real."

"Yeah well, you deserve it, Lyddie," he sighed, completely content, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I'm starving," Lydia didn't wanna let go, but her stomach was rumbling angrily. "Come on, I'll make you something." She took Win's Nathan's hand on her way to the kitchen. "Hey, guys, how's it going?"

Win looked up as Lyddie and her Nathan entered the room and she couldn't help but smile, pressing her cheek to Lyddie's Nathan's shoulder. "It's going good," she murmured. "How about you two?"

"Yeah..." Lydia took a deep breath on her way to the fridge, looking back at Win's Nathan over her shoulder. "Everything's great."

--------------

Taglist: @magic-multicolored-miracle @midnightseance @messengeronthemoon @the-freckled-luba @firstpersonnarrator @nightingale-rose @salvador-daley @forenschik @a-ghoulish-tale @love-is-dirty-baby

#misfits #nathan young #nathan young x oc #nathan x win #nathan x lyddie #otp: green apple lollipop #timeline anomaly’verse #collaboration #my writing #nathan young smut

24 notes · View notes

heartsofbeskar · 4 years ago

Text

from the ashes

chapter 10

din djarin x fem!oc

WARNINGS: brief mention of sexual activities, graphic descriptions of injury/blood

WORDS: 5.4K

EXCERPT: The corridor, dark just a few feet ahead of them, felt like the mouth of some monster, and with each step Ten took it got closer to swallowing her whole.

Lights followed their movement, creating a bubble of illumination permanently around them. The skirt of her dress trailed gently behind her in the absence of wind, her legs occasionally breaking through the carefully placed slits. Her skin was crawling.

A/N: phew this was a bit of a beast of a chapter both in length (i think my longest chapter for this fic??) and in structure, as i was playing around with timeline inspired by bae @asta-lily (srsly check her out) — hope yall like it!!

masterlist | series masterlist

prev | next

The cold water beat down against her bare skin, goosebumps raising across the surface. Ten sighed, leaning back against the metal wall, running her hands through her hair, pulling it.

She stood directly under the stream of water, tilting back so it washed over her face, shutting her eyes. The ghost of Mando’s fingers lingered on her skin, in her— everywhere. His voice, the words he’d said to her, the noises he’d made, echoed in her head.

I want to see you come, Ten.

Maker, she liked how her name sounded from his mouth.

Pushing forward, she braced her hands on the wall in front of her, watching the droplets race down her arms, over the scars, over her tattoo. Despite the temperature of the water, warmth began to spread from her palms, energy concentrating there.

Ten hold a palm out, facing towards the ceiling. Water dripped from her fingers, but as it began to fall on its expected trajectory, towards the floor, it curved abnormally. Slowly, drop by drop, a pool of water formed in her outstretched palm. She breathed out harshly, willing it to collect together, but she could tell she was losing her grasp on it.

The feel of cold beskar under her fingertips. A rough and modulated voice close by her ear. Heavy limbs on hers, holding her to the floor, hands moving to—

The water moved together fluidly, quickly, forming a perfect sphere, hovering just an inch above her hand. It spun slowly there, the water circulating inside the shape. The refresher light refracted through it, creating patterns on the metal walls.

“Shit.”

When she finally emerged from the refresher, Mando was gone, any evidence of their encounter on the floor of the ship effectively removed. Though Ten was sure that area would burn her feet if she walked over it.

The door to the ship’s sole cabin and sleeping space slid open with a gentle hiss, lights in the small room powering up automatically in response to her movement.

She stilled when she saw the large Mandalorian occupying the cot. He was propped against the wall, halfway to laying down, arms crossed over his chest. His vambraces sat on the floor next to him, but otherwise he hadn’t removed any armour. His chest rose gently and steadily.

He was asleep, she realized with a start.

Slowly, she padded over, feet silent as she came to stand beside the cot. She knelt down, pressing onto the thin mattress with one hand, testing. When he didn’t make any indications of waking, Ten eased the rest of her body onto the mattress as well.

Her muscles cried with relief as she sunk as far as she could into the flimsy material — still, it was better than the hammocks she was used to. Turning her back to Mando, she folded her hands under her head, closing her eyes.

A moment later, she felt a rustling beside her. Looking over, Mando was stirring, uncrossing his arms with a low groan. When he made to swing a leg off of the cot, Ten grabbed his thigh, lightly. The contact sent jolts down her arm.

“I can—” he started to protest, but she cut him off.

“Just shut up and go back to sleep.”

His body sagged back against the wall, arms going back across his chest. Ten turned away from him again. The low tone of his voice cut the silence one more time.

“I’m not going to cuddle you.”

“Good.”

—

There was a short rush of air as the doors to the elevator closed, blue lights embedded in the floor illuminating the space from below.

Ten eyed the human men in front of her warily, their backs facing her, suits crisp and clean, their hairlines perfectly manicured on their necks. They began the smooth descent down, beneath the surface.

“Fiddle with the necklace if you can hear me.”

Mando’s voice was intimately nestled in her ear, the piece of metal small enough to be tucked into the cavity. Casually, she brought her hand up, fingering the matching metallic pendant that hung low, between the exposed valley of her breasts. A fashion statement, to anyone looking.

“Good. You should be there soon. I’ve still got your position on the scanner.”

She wouldn’t admit it, but a relief filtered through her body hearing it.

The elevator slowed, the lights dimming as they approached their stop. With a soft hiss, the doors opened. A long corridor laid beyond.

“Good luck, Ten.”

—

Coruscant rapidly filled the viewport, a myriad of lights and movement spread across the planet. The sight of so many people set Ten’s teeth on edge. It had been years since she’d been here, for good reason.

The man beside her sat deadly still, as he usually did, and only the clenching of his hand where it sat atop his thigh gave away any indication of how he felt.

The tension that had saturated the air of the ship for the majority of the journey seemed to reach its crescendo as Ten brought the ship in to land on the planet, in the same docking station Tosche had used months prior.

Largely they’d avoided each other for the remainder of the flight from Nevarro, no easy feat on a ship that small. A brush of shoulders passing through the cockpit doors, a barely there touch when one of them laid in the shared cot for a rest. It felt like a string being pulled impossibly taut, each of them silently daring the other to speak about what had happened between them.

As it turned out, they were both stubborn as banthas.

It wasn’t until Mando was on the verge of lowering the ramp that Ten snapped the string.

—

The corridor, dark just a few feet ahead of them, felt like the mouth of some monster, and with each step Ten took it got closer to swallowing her whole.

“As I’m sure you can see, we take the utmost care to provide top security here,” one of the men boasted. Ten pictured how satisfying it would be to break his nose.

Instead, she said, “Did you build this place or find it?”

As the man prattled on about specifics of construction, Ten flexed her forearm, cupping her hand into her sleeve. The sound of the chip hitting the floor was drowned out by his voice.

Moments later, Mando’s voice. “It’s working. I’ve got the readings coming in. Looks like you’re in a tunnel about a hundred feet long connecting to the entrance.”

She couldn’t reply without lifting the necklace to her mouth, very effectively fucking them over, but she noted his words, drawing her own mental map of where she was headed.

“Now, for what you’re really here for,” the man who had been babbling on sent her what was no doubt supposed to be a flirty smirk. Nose definitely wouldn’t be enough, she had to imagine breaking the jaw too. He knelt over slightly, presenting his eye to a small scanner set into the wall at the end of the corridor.

Smoothly, they slid open.

—

Her hand grasped tightly onto his wrist. He turned to look at her, and Ten faltered for a moment under the weight of his gaze. She swallowed, shaking her head.

“I just need to make sure you’re not going to treat me any differently on this job. I can handle myself, Mandalorian.”

He peered down at her, still saying nothing. Maker, she wished he would say something — anything. The air felt like it had to be forced out of her lungs, like he had stolen it from her somehow, without even touching her skin.

Finally, he spoke. “And why would I treat you differently?”

Ten scoffed. “Don’t act dense, I know you’re smarter than that. You’re not the first person I’ve worked with that I’ve gotten … involved with at some point. Don’t make it complicated.”

“Oh, is that what you’re calling it? Getting involved?” He took a half step closer, broad frame filling her vision. She didn’t miss the teasing edge of his voice. “Any of those people you got involved with make you come like that on the floor of your ship?”

Heat flushed up her body, lighting up all her nerves along the way. Ten beat it down, doing her best to keep her face impassive. She wasn’t sure if it worked. Fucking Mandalorians with their fucking helmets to keep their fucking faces covered.

“You’re going to need to do a lot more than that to stand out,” she shot back, finally dropping his wrist from her hold. She reached around him, all but slamming the key code to lower the ramp. “Just … no protective bullshit, okay?”

—

Despite her somewhat … prickly exterior, Ten had found herself chasing beautiful things in all the spare moments that had allowed for it. Perhaps the seeds for it had been planted all those years ago on Yaim, where the sunlight filtered through the trees like stained glass, where the wildflowers bloomed twice a year with colours that seemed to get brighter with each passing day, where the air itself seemed to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. Wherever the origin, Ten found herself exploring the desolate moons and planets of the Outer Rim, always searching, hoping, of finding a peace she couldn’t even describe.

So when the doors opened on one of the most beautiful rooms Ten had ever seen, her breath caught in her throat.

The ceiling was draped in soft fabrics, gathering at the centre, and billowing across the expanse above them. Where they met the walls there was ornate crown moulding, periodically broken up with elaborate white statues of a variety of fearsome appearing creatures, all crouching in some form of attacking stance. Continuing down, the walls were covered with rich patterns embossed in shining gold, standing out starkly against the black walls. The floor stretched ahead of them, gleaming black marble with veins of white spindling in all directions.

“This way, gorgeous,” the taller man said, and Ten had to fight down the most violent of her instincts when he placed his hand just above the small of her back to guide her inside. He seemed to have a small shred of sense, as he stopped just short of actually touching her.

Her heels — ridiculous and too tight and impractical, but more practical footwear would have blown the cover — clicked against the floor as they entered. Eyes turned towards the new entrants and Ten’s skin prickled uncomfortably at the attention. Men dressed in ash grey uniforms scanned their eyes up and down her body, and she knew what they saw, how exposed she was.

It felt like a Bantha was standing on her lungs, expelling all the air. She couldn’t breathe.

“Hey,” came the rough voice in her ear. “I’m here. You aren’t alone in there, I’m here.”

It was a lie of course, he wasn’t there. At least not yet — he was still on the surface, trying to map out another point of access to the underground hub. But she leaned into the lie all the same, air slowly filtering back through her body.

I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.

—

The stench of the lower streets of Coruscant entered Din’s nose even through the protection of the helmet. Dirt and grease and urine from multiple species. He couldn’t fathom how Ten was able to stand it.

She walked beside him now, eyes roving over their surroundings, catching the movements of every figure that shifted around them. He noticed her lightsaber was now attached to her hip, sitting next to her blaster.

His mind wandered again to their … involvement, as she had adorably called it. If he was honest with himself, Din had been riding the high of having her beneath them, at his mercy on his fingers, for the remainder of the ride to Coruscant. And like any addict, he knew — he needed more.

But that was a problem for later, he reasoned.

The bar was tucked into a nearly indistinguishable alleyway, covered partially by someone’s laundry hanging above, and framed by a littering of empty crates someone had discarded over the area. He gestured to Ten with a jerk of his head, walking ahead of her through the narrow space.

A narrow brick alley gave way to a small, dark room. If Din hadn’t already known it was a bar, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to guess. The smells of the street were replaced with the thick scent of smoke inside, and several customers lounged out over the minimal seating, taking long drags on exotic looking pipes.

“The Mandalorian,” came a deep and ragged voice. A human man sat nearby at what served for the bar — a worn expanse of wood that looked too thin, with a poor stock of bottles on a shelf behind it. Din couldn’t see a bartender, but the man had a drink grasped in his hand all the same. He brushed his hair from where it hung in front of his eyes, and Din was surprised it didn’t drip with the amount of grease it seemed to have. “To what do I owe the favour?”

“A favour is exactly what I’m here to cash in on, actually, Sio.” Din stood in front of him, crossing his arms over his chest, letting his figure fill the immediate space. Ten came to stand beside the bar, lightly fingering its grimy surface. “You owe me one, if I’m not mistaken.”

Sio coughed, low and long. He looked significantly more agitated now. “Ah yes … I do recall that, vaguely. But first why don’t you introduce me to your little friend, huh? She looks like she needs someone who can really show her a good time, eh …” The man rose from his stool now, leering in closer to Ten. Din tensed, one hand going to his blaster and the other clenching into a fist. Ten appeared — at least on the surface — to be impassive, but he saw the flash of annoyance in her eyes.

He took another long drag of the pipe. “They don’t make ‘em like you ‘round these parts, that’s for sure…”

And then, like an absolute fucking idiot, Din saw his hand reach out towards Ten’s waist. Faster than he could react, she was bringing her hand up to the back of his head, and slamming him down face first into the wooden surface.

Blood ran from Sio’s nose, and he spit it out as it covered his mouth. “Well, she’s got a bit of bite there.”

Ten wiped her hand off on her pants. “Now you owe us two favours.”

—

She dropped another tracking chip in front of the ornately carved bar. A stark contrast to the tiny room they’d met Sio in, this bar spanned the entirety of one of the room’s walls, with a pristine surface inlaid with carved designs. Behind it there was an impressive stock of liquors from all over the galaxy, served by a contingent of bartending droids. One of them slid smoothly over to where she stood.

“Hello, may I offer you a drink?” Ten pondered it, fingers tracing over one of the bar’s patterns.

“No, thank you,” she politely declined. She turned back to face the room, elbows resting behind her. A man with a pinched face and white hair slowly approached, with a sneer she wanted desperately to slap off.

“You are a vision, my dear.” He held his hand out expectantly, and Ten swallowed thickly before placing hers on top of it. He brought it up to his lips, kissing her skin. She felt bile rise in her throat. “I haven’t seen you here before — allow me to introduce myself. Moff Ardellian.”

Ten forced a smile, hoping any discomfort in it would be written off as nerves. “Sola,” she lied smoothly. “I’m new to this part of the city.”

Moff Ardellian stepped closer to her, and Ten felt her muscles tense in response. She wasn’t sure if he noticed. His eyes roved greedily over her face. “Sola … that’s quite the scar you’ve got there. Such a shame to see such ugliness on such a pretty face.”

You should take that up with Moff Quell, who I’m sure you know intimately well. “I was a dancer for a time. An unfortunate gift from an … unhappy client.”

“You poor girl,” he tutted at her. “Well, I can assure you we don’t treat our beautiful ladies like that here. You’ll be safe whenever you’re in attendance. And … some girls make alternative arrangements to guarantee safety and comfort long term, as well.” When she didn’t make any move to respond to his vile insinuations, the Moff sent her a wink, starting to turn away again. “I’ll leave you to ponder that for the time being. Enjoy your night, Sola.”

Ten took a deep breath as the man walked away, clenching a fist at her side. She motioned to the bar droid again. “I changed my mind. Give me the strongest drink you can make.”

—

“This is stupid.”

Din bit back a laugh he knew would not be appreciated at the pure petulance currently on Ten’s face. And he could hardly blame her; the long and delicate drapes of fabric against her skin looked alien, so unusual to what Din had become used to her. But it would be a lie to say he didn’t appreciate it.

“This is a cover.”

She rolled her eyes, but she knew he was right.

The woman who had been crouched at the hem of the dress rose, retrieving a nearby jar filled with some kind of balm, by the look of it. She dipped her fingers into it, applying a generous amount onto the bare expanse of Ten’s chest, causing her to flinch.

“This is a scar salve,” she said in an accented voice. Din couldn’t make out the region. “It should temporarily remove the smaller scars across your chest, here. Won’t be enough for the face, unfortunately. You know, I know some great dermal regenerists in the city, if you’re interested.”

“I’m not,” was Ten’s clipped response. The woman cocked a skeptical eyebrow, returning the lid to the container.

“You’re almost all set. I’ll go get the details of the fake chain code.”

Then they were alone. Din eyes went up and down Ten’s body, and he was thankful for the cover of the helmet. The front of the dress dipped low, exposing the valley between her breasts, the skin there now smooth and pristine. Everywhere else, the black fabric clung to her, down her arms, over her hips, flowing gently around her legs. The room was uncomfortably warm.

Din walked closer to her, until he was just standing just behind her. One step closer and her back would be pressed into his armour. Their eyes met in the speckled mirror. He brought his arm around, showing her the long chain he held.

“This will provide an audio and visual feed, directly into my helmet. I’ve already wired it in.” He opened the chain, looping it around her neck, smoothly moving her hair back until it sat flush on her skin. “Should just look like a nice piece of jewelry. And this—” he pushed the hair off one of her ears, holding it back with a light hold as he hooked something small into her ear. “—is an audio receiving piece, so you can hear me. Also wired into the helmet.”

His hand lingered on the back of her neck, and he slowly trailed it down her spine, and outwards, coming to rest on her hip.

“You know you don’t have to do this,” he said in a low voice. He squeezed his hand. “We can make another plan.”

Her eyes softened slightly. “You and I both know this is the best plan we could have. It’s fine.”

Din nodded. He didn’t want to remove his hand. “I stand by what I said. I won’t let the Empire — whatever’s left of it — take you.”

Ten covered his hand with her own.

—

Ten made her way slowly around the room, dropping more of the tracking chips, making the least amount of polite conversation she possibly could get away with.

Now, she came to a small bathroom. Down a short hallway away from the main room, it was metallic and practical. She eyed herself in the mirror, unnerved by the made up appearance. She couldn’t help but wonder what the Mandalorian had thought of it.

She brought the communication piece of the necklace to her mouth. “That’s the whole room. I’m alone in the washroom now. Anything?”

“No access from the surface that I can see yet.” Damn. “Looks like that hallway extends further left, possibly some offices. If you can slip away, it’d be good to drop one down there.”

“Slipping away would be my pleasure.” She dropped the necklace back down, letting it settle between her breasts again. Lifting some of the fabric of the skirt, she ran her hands over the knives strapped around her thigh reassuringly. Smoothing the dress down again, she eased the door open, making sure the hallway was empty.

Ten slipped those damn heels off before continuing down the hallway, the opposite direction of the party. As she dropped another chip down, she noted the names etched into the doorways. It seemed like Mando had been right, these were offices.

Continuing at a slow pace, she scanned the names with mild interest, wondering how disruptive it would be to their mission to go into one at random and smash everything she could find.

Near the end of the corridor, where it split into two more, Ten saw a name that made her heart seize in her chest.

Dr. R. Dracko.

Mando’s voice broke into her ear. “There’s an access tunnel a level below you, 300 meters away, that leads right to the surface. I think I found the other end. All goes well, I’ll join you in a moment.”

Ten nodded dumbly, before realizing she couldn’t see him. She rested her hand on the handle of the door — there was no keypad or scanned entry, since they obviously assumed it was safe down here. She pushed it open. Unlocked.

It was unassuming inside, a small desk nestled in the corner, a powered down holo display. The only other furniture in the room was a sleek cabinet against the opposite wall. Curiously, she pulled open a drawer; Maker, there were actually papers inside.

She rifled through them, the familiar but almost forgotten feel of them strange on her hands. There was a wealth of folders, each labelled with a tab in Basic. Almost every one was classified ‘Project Inactive.”

Pulling open more drawers, she dug until, finally — ‘Project Active.” Not even bothering to look at its contents, she extracted the weightly folder from the drawer, heart pounding with adrenaline.

The increased heart rate wasn’t ideal when she turned and a knife was sunk smoothly into her abdomen.

She gasped, and pain seared through her as the knife twisted — it was in the hand of a man now standing in front of her. Gritting her teeth, she forced her eyes up to his face. It was Dracko, his nostrils flaring, an air of superiority falling onto his face.

“Little bitch,” he spat at her. “I know who you are, probably better than you do. You thought you could just come here and—” He was cut off as Ten raised her hand, energy coursing through her as she slammed him against the wall of the small room. A trickle of blood appeared, moving down his temple.

She groaned loudly, any thoughts to listeners out of her mind, as she sank down the wall behind her. The dress around the knife felt heavy as it became soaked with blood, which left her fingers red when she touched it.

It lit a fire inside of her, and tears came unbidden to her eyes at the burn of it.

Bunching up the skirt of the dress, she ripped a long piece of fabric off the bottom hem, wincing at the strain of her abdominal muscles. Her hands were shaking as she wrapped the knife where it stuck out from her, securing the makeshift stabilizer around her back.

A sheen of sweat covered her skin as more blood oozed out around the wound. She tried to stand, but a white hot flash of agony erupted from her side. Her body slammed back against the wall, and she panted deliriously.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside — the door to the office was still open. She grasped her leg, bloody fingerprints appearing on the skin, as she pulled the knife from the strap around her thigh. Ten knew she was growing much too weak to pull on the Force. This was what she had. She braced a hand against the wall as the footsteps approached just outside the office.

She raised her arm opposite the stab wound, knowing one good throw was all she was likely to get.

A blaster appeared first, the barrel scanning the room, and then — that damned silver helmet. Ten felt a moment of relief flood through her, muscles growing heavy as the adrenaline waned. The knife seemed to get sharper where it was settled in her flesh.

“Shit,” she breathed out. Mando scanned the room, wordlessly taking the pulse of Dracko where he lay in a crumpled heap.

“Fuck, Ten.” He approached her now, hands floating around her side, not touching. She laughed, but it was raspy and uneven.

“I look that good, huh?”

He shot her a look, and though the helmet looked the same as it always did, she got the meaning. No. You look really fucking bad, so shut up.

—

Getting back to the ship was a blur. Ten recognized the vague shape of bodies littering the hallways Mando let her down, the distant ringing of an alarm, the cool air as he brought her up and out of the long access shaft. They were lucky the lower levels of Coruscant didn’t look twice at a Mandalorian hauling a woman with a stab wound through the streets.

Her hands gripped the edges of the worn crate Mando sat her on. She was gasping, trying desperately to draw air into her lungs, but each inhale felt as if it were bathing the surrounding muscles in acid, slowing eating away at her body.

Mando was back now — where had he gone? When had he gone? — and crouching in front of her, something metallic in his hands. He slowly unravelled the fabric Ten had put to stabilize the knife, and she cried out.

“I know, I know,” he said in a low voice. Perhaps … soothing? She couldn’t put the pieces together in her mind to make out the tone. “I know it hurts, but I need you to stay still for me, okay? Grab here, hold as tight as you need.”

He raised one of her hands up until they met with something soft and warm. She wiped furiously at the wetness in and around her eyes, until his blurry helmet came into view. Her hand was wrapped around the fabric of his upper arm, she realized, his shoulder pauldron discarded on the floor nearby.

There was a gentle ripping noise, and Ten felt cool air on her skin. Looking down at the source, she saw he’d cut away the dress around the knife, just below her breast. The flesh there was red and mangled, the edge of the knife serrated. Shit.

“Mando, it’s … fuck—” Her eyes were glued to the wound, watching the edges expand and contract as she took shallow breaths. She felt a gloved hand on her face, urging it up. It was covered in a wetness that was no doubt her own blood, now smeared across her cheek. Mando dragged her eyes to his helmet.

“Don’t look at that. Focus on me. Okay?”

She nodded weakly, her brow furrowed tightly. Her own distorted reflection started back at her from the beskar chrome, body writhing of its own accord.

“I’m going to pull it out now, okay? On three.” She nodded, tensing as she felt the movement of his hand wrapping around the hilt of the weapon. “One—”

She screamed out as he gave a harsh pull, the sound echoing around the ship. Her hand cramped as she gripped his shirt tightly, as if she was trying to will the pain to travel somewhere else, anywhere else. It blinded her, and she could hear Mando speaking but couldn’t make out the words as he pressed onto her side. Wetness flowed down her body, outlining her leg, blood pooling on the floor.

The room spun around her, and Mando’s voice finally drifted back to her ears.

“—need to cauterize the internal— doing so well, okay— talk to me, Ten.”

She shook, forcing words up and out of her throat. “What the f— shit — fuck do you want me to say?”

“Tell me about the Mandalorians you knew.”

Ten almost — almost — had to laugh. He wanted to know .... about Mandalorians. Of course he did. She screwed her eyes shut, trying to pull the memories through the dense fog of pain.

“There were … two of them. Refugees like w—we all were, from the Great Purge of … of Mandalore. Fuck!” Her muscles seized anew as she felt burning; a real burning as she realized Mando was cauterizing. She grit her teeth, moans of pain slipping out as she slammed her head back against the wall.

“Keep going.”

“F—fuck, okay.” She tried to take a deep breath, though it still felt much too shallow. “They were like … they were like you. With the helmets and shit. But they … shit … they were on that moon for a long time. We all were.” She twisted her hand harder into his shirt, and she could feel the muscles straining underneath as he worked. “They were — ah — they were kind. Silya used to … used to tell me stories about Mandalore when I … when I couldn’t sleep. And Tinian … taught me how to throw a punch and not— not break my knuckles.”

Mando laughed at that. His hand came to grip her elbow, so tightly it almost hurt. The fire raging under skin was beginning to douse into a duller burn, embers of an inferno that glowed with a constant heat. “You’re doing so well, Ten. I’m almost done.”

Ten nodded, letting out a long breath. Her breaths felt more attainable now, more air drawn into her starving lungs.

“What happened to them? Silya and Tinian?” Mando was grabbing wrappings now, his hands gliding over the blazing skin of her torso, temporarily suppressing the fires they encountered.

“They’re dead.”

He didn’t ask anymore. Ten released her hand from where it was embedded in his shirt, the muscles aching as she flexed her fingers. She wiped a generous covering of sweat from her forehead. She dared a glance down again, thanking the Maker the area was now covered in a bandage, the skin around it shiny with bacta salve. Her breath came in pants.

Mando’s hands came back to her face, framing it. “You did well, Ten. You’re okay.” He pressed the forehead of his helm against the skin of hers, seemingly not caring about the blood and sweat that was likely to be deposited there. “I should get you a towel—”

“No,” Ten gasped, grabbing him by the elbows. “Just … stay. Please.”

“Okay,” he whispered.

For a moment they stayed there, Ten’s breath fogging against the front of his helmet. She closed her eyes, hands curling upwards around Mando’s biceps.

“I would cuddle you now, if you wanted.”

“Go fuck yourself, Mandalorian.”

—

A/N: what did i tell ya??? a beAST! thanks again for all those who read it, this is my baby and im excited its been gearing up for these stubborn mf'ers

taglist: @djarrex @pedrostories

#the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x oc #the mandalorian x original character #the mandalorian #din djarin x oc #din djarin x original character #din djarin #star wars

15 notes · View notes

cagestark · 6 years ago

Text

WinterIronSpider Ch. 2

Read chapter one here.

Story spurred by this prompt: There's a meme about a poor college student being robbed; the robber, upon learning just h o w poor, stopping and giving the (empty) wallet back and being sincerely concerned. "You... you live like this?" What if the winter soldier/bucky barnes breaks into struggling college student Peter parker's apt and all his pre-serum steve instincts are triggered by the state of the place and how /tiny/ Peter is.

Chapter warnings: dubcon/noncon discussed, not between any of the OT3.

A note: In the brief teaser I gave of this fic before I’d written chapter one, Steve had skipped timelines to live his life with Peggy. But that is no longer the case.

Tony stands lounging against the back of the sofa, watching the elevator doors. FRIDAY alerted him moments ago that Bucky and his guest had entered the building—those are the exact words she used. Bucky and his guest. He finds himself drumming his fingers against his legs, filled to the brim with fizzing carbon bubbles of energy. They’ve been dating for two years now, and Bucky has never brought anyone back to the Tower. He’s tempted to ask FRIDAY to bring up video feed, to get a glimpse of whoever Bucky is bringing home, but the elevator is rising, rising.

“Here, boss,” FRIDAY warns, soft, redundant.

“Quiet from here on out, baby girl,” he reminds her. She doesn’t respond.

Then the doors open.

His eyes go to Bucky first. He can’t help that. Tony will never get enough of him, spends an embarrassing amount of time staring out of the corner of his eye (or unashamedly when the other man is sleeping). Bucky’s hair is past his chin, wind-swept and tangled. He’s dressed casually with his dark jeans and t-shirt—Tony’s, it’s Tony’s t-shirt, he notes with a burst of warmth in his chest—his gloves on, the soft leather ones that Tony had custom made. He stance is guarded, from the low eyebrows to the hunched shoulders.

Tony glances down to the figure at his side and sees why.

It’s a boy, man, maybe, anywhere from sixteen to twenty-six, if Tony had to take a guess. The sad, tired eyes belie the youthful features, so it’s difficult to tell a specific age. He’s petite to an extreme (sickness? Tony wonders. Cancer?), dressed in what appears to be the common man’s version of his Sunday best—dress slacks, a collared, long sleeve shirt with cuffs that gape around his tiny wrists. Paleness verges on sallowness, skin tinged faintly green, lips faint white. But he’s handsome: sharp features, if a little too gaunt, dark eyes and dark curls that are still damp from a shower, or maybe the rain on the way over.

Then he spots it: the hero worship. The kid has stars in his eyes. Tony can spot a fan at fifty paces, the slack mouths, the wide eyes, the oh my god, you’re Iron Man! And it gets him, gets him like a knife between the ribs. He loves the praise. It flatters him, it waters his ego (which isn’t ever flourishing the way the press makes it out to be).

Coming from the right person, it makes his cock hard.

Tony knows he cuts quite a figure, even in his sweatpants, socked-feet, and tee. His hair is un-styled, soft the way Bucky likes it. He’s wearing the blue-tinted glasses that contain his latest AI, his latest baby—but he’s always wearing those these days, even when he doesn’t have EDITH active. He must look soft, relaxed, alien, because the kid looks like he’s seeing something from outer space and not upper Manhattan.

“Hey, cupcake,” Tony says, hands in his pockets, watching Bucky nearly carry the kid out of the elevator. His face is white as a sheet, mouth quivering. “Who’s this?”

“This is—” That’s as far as Bucky makes it before the kid swoons. His eyes roll, body going lax, a puppet with the strings cut. Bucky, quicker reflexes, catches him before his head can hit the tiled floor. Kneeling with the boy in his arms, Bucky gives a tentative smile that looks more like a grimace. “—Peter. He’s sick.”

Tony clutches his heart. “And here I thought it was just my influence. FRIDAY, diagnostics please. Give me some biometrics.”

“Scanning, boss.” Peter’s eyelids flutter at the disembodied female voice, but even if he is regaining consciousness, Tony doesn’t think he’ll remember it.

“Send it to E, Fri.”

No response, but the words appear in front of his eyes. Sex: male presenting. BMI: 16. Which is—yeah, that’s too fucking low. Temperature: 102.8 degrees Fahrenheit. His girl manages to narrow the age from 20 to 24, and she has more. The information goes on and on: he’s sick with the flu, it looks like, but now it has blossomed into the beginnings of pneumonia. Evidence of long-term vitamin deficiencies. A heart murmur—probably benign.

Gonorrhea.

“I got medicine for him,” Bucky says, holding up the pharmacy bag. There’s where Bucky used his card, then. “He took some in the car on the way over, and didn’t cough so much after that.”

“He’s got pneumonia, cupcake. Nothing over the counter will help that. It won’t help his gonorrhea either.”

“He’s got VD?”

Tony hums. “Can I ask what he’s doing on my four-thousand dollar leather sofa?”

“He’s sick,” Bucky says. “I thought you could help.”

“How’d you two know each other?”

“We met today.”

“How?”

“I—don’t want to say.”

Tony softens. Bucky’s skills of deception are honed enough that he could have lied without Tony being the wiser. In the beginning of their relationship, it was a serious problem: Bucky hiding things from Tony that he was worried would upset him. It’s taken a long time for him to know that he can keep secrets if he wants to, that telling Tony I don’t want to say would, under most circumstances, be enough to end the line of questioning.

“Alright. But I feel obliged to say this: there’s no legal way you could have met that I would blink an eye at.”

It’s Bucky who blinks, once, long and slow.

“You met illegally?”

“You’re getting very good at reading me,” Bucky says. Which is nice of him, considering there are still days where his lover seems like a closed book to him. “Could we, like, get him a doctor? Do you have a doctor who makes house calls? Do doctors make those, these days?”

“I’m rich enough to afford one,” Tony says. “And luckily, I have a very discreet one on container. Fri, ask Bruce to come by. Tell him it’s an emergency and to bring whatever he needs to treat pneumonia and gonorrhea—God, I wish I could see the look on his face when you tell him that. FRIDAY, take an image capture of Bruce’s face. Don’t think I didn’t notice you sidestepping the question, either, mister. We talked about your extracurricular activities—”

“I couldn’t leave him there, Tony,” says Bucky, voice tortured. “He’s sick, and he’s got no food, no health insurance. I don’t want him to go back there.”

While they’re waiting for Bruce, Tony wets a rag to put on Peter’s burning forehead. His eyes flutter, and he is looking less pale—no chance he’ll be out much longer. “Here’s a list of things that are acceptable for you to bring home with you: stray dogs, some of those pastries from that cafe we love, a downright egregious number of sex toys–actually, a few of those things I would even encourage you to bring home. But Bucky, baby, a stray human is not on that list.”

“I know that, but he–” Bucky cuts off.

“Yes?” Tony prompts. He lifts a hand, slow, fingers still damp from the washrag to tuck some of Bucky’s hair behind his ear. It’s getting longer and longer these days, and the other man doesn’t trust any professional to cut it. That leaves Tony for the job: Bucky shirtless in their bathroom, hair damp, split ends being carefully trimmed to rain down around their bare feet.

“He reminds me of Steve,” Bucky admits. “Before the serum. Small, and sick, and with a heart bigger than his stomach. I didn’t turn away then, and I can’t turn away now.”

Steve isn’t a name they mention often, not since Thanos. For Bucky to bring it up now shows how serious he is for this. How much it means to him. That’s all Tony needs to hear to be sold. He’d give Bucky the moon, if he could.

“My sugar baby wants a sugar baby,” Tony sighs fondly. “What does that make me?”

Bucky’s lips twitch. “A sugar granddaddy?”

Peter stirs. His eyes open, bloodshot, tender, honey-tinted eyes. They get wide again when they see Tony kneeling by the couch he’s resting on. He holds out a shaking hand, palm down, like he wants Tony to kiss his knuckles. “Mr. Stark,” he breathes, tongue thick and clumsy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Behind him, Bucky snorts, the softest exhalation against his neck. Tony reaches out and takes the burning grip in both of his own hands. Peter is short for a man, certainly underweight, and though he has long fingers, they are thin and spindly, swallowed whole by Tony’s larger, tanned hands. The size difference between them makes him swallow—the size difference between Peter and Bucky? It’s—indecent. “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Parker.”

“Oh, call me Peter, please,” he says. The softness, the earnestness charms Tony.

“Peter, then.”

A coughing fit comes on, lasting until the younger man’s face is red and tears are at the corners of his eyes. Tony fetches him some water that he sips at. He blinks like he’s trying to focus his eyes. “Did I faint?”

“Gracefully, if it makes you feel any better. Welcome to Stark Tower, kid. Sorry the experience has been less than ideal.”

The younger man gives a dopey smile—more than likely high off of whatever he took in the car. “The only way it could have been better is if you’d caught me, sir.”

Tony fights to keep his twitching lips from blooming into a downright grin. Bucky’s face is red, the only indication that he’s holding back laughter. “I’m sorry to say that my days of being quick enough to catch damoiseaux in distress are about ten years behind me. Luckily, Bucky was here to act as my hands. Trust me, kid, he’s got nicer biceps to cling to anyway.”

“Oh, I noticed that when he helped me to the car,” Peter says, craning his head back to wave frailly at Bucky behind the couch. Seeing Bucky wave back, stiff and straight faced, is a sight Tony will cherish for many years to come.

The elevator opens. Bruce is there with his bag in hand. He looks like a man who is about to face the gallows—but at the sight of Peter sitting on the couch with the half-empty glass of water in his hands, his eyebrows raise. This could hardly be what he was expecting when FRIDAY told him to come to the penthouse floor.

“Hello,” he says carefully stepping into the room. “Someone rang?”

“Bruce!” Tony rises on creaking joints to greet the man. The warm hug takes the younger man by surprise based on the way he tenses, returning it hesitantly. Tony says under his breath: “He doesn’t know he has the clap, and he wouldn’t understand how I know. Proceed with caution.”

“What have you gotten yourself into?” Bruce mutters, patting Tony awkwardly.

“Oh, you know how it goes. In for a penny, in for a pound.” Then, louder: “Peter, this is Dr. Bruce Banner. Bruce, this is Peter Parker.”

“Pleased to meet you, Dr. Banner,” Peter slurs. He’s looking remarkably like a damsel with the way he’s lounging on the sofa, the back of his hand pressed to the cloth on his forehead. “Call me Pete.”

“You’re not looking well, Pete. Under the weather?”

“Uh-huh. ‘ve got the flu.”

Bucky and Tony stand back while Bruce pokes and prods the kid, taking his temperature, listening to his heart and lungs, interrogating him about his symptoms, medical history, and current medications. He examines the bottle of cold medicine that Peter drank from on the way over, face serious and stern. His diagnosis only backs up FRIDAY’s findings: atypical pneumonia, something most people Peter’s age would have been able to fight off alone.

“I’m prescribing an antibiotic to help you along,” Bruce says.

“Oh, I can’t afford that,” says Peter.

“It’s on the house,” Tony calls from where he and Bucky are setting the table for three. “Consider it complimentary—like the bottles of shampoos at hotels. Bruce, are you joining us? It’s Thai.”

“No, thank you,” Bruce says without offering an excuse. He packs up his back but leaves the antibiotic on the solid fiberglass coffee table. If Peter wonders why Bruce already had the antibiotic on him, he doesn’t question it, just stares at the bottle looking a little glossy-eyed. Bruce gives Tony a pointed glance. “That there is azithromycin, which could clear up a wide range of illnesses. But Peter should still be seen by a doctor who can perform a thorough examination. Understand?”

“Understood.” Tony salutes. He owes the younger man one; actually, a million ones, considering how many sticky situations Bruce has gotten him out of over the years. With nothing but a tense smile, Bruce sees himself to the elevator. Once he is gone, they turn their attention to the young man on the couch who is cradling the bottle of medicine to his chest like a drunkard might the bottle. “Hey Peter. Are you hungry? Do you like Thai?”

“Starving,” Peter says. “And I’m not picky, I’d eat anything. But you don’t have to go through any extra trouble for me, Mr. Stark. I’m just honored to be here.”

“No trouble at all,” Tony insists. “The food is already here. I hope that someone eats it, lest it go to waste. Need help making it to the table, kiddo? Bucky here makes an excellent chariot. Quite the ride.”

The look Bucky gives him might send a lesser man cowering: the perfect mixture of scathing and unamused. But when Peter does nothing but sigh and say, I’ll bet, the former assassin gets distinctly red around the ears. And that is an interesting development, in all of this. It isn’t a stretch that Peter would be attracted to Bucky (anyone with eyes would be), but for the first time, Tony wonders if Bucky’s interest in Peter isn’t entirely platonic.

Peter stumbles on the way to the table, giggles, buzzing off of the cough syrup he drank on the way over. Bucky is nothing short of a gentleman, stiffly helping Peter to a chair, offering him first servings from all of the boxes of takeout. Tony makes a note to himself: no funny business. The kid isn’t in his right mind—even on his best days, he’s obviously vulnerable. As cute as he is, the idea of the kid as prey turns Tony off entirely.

Over dinner, they make small talk. Peter and Tony do, that is. Bucky listens, thoughtful and solemn while he fills and clears his plate twice. A few times, he smiles, when Peter does something absolutely goofy—like missing his mouth with the fork and smearing food on his cheek—and the look he gives Tony is so fond, a shake of his head, like he’s known Peter all his life and is telling Tony, Get a load of this kid, always so silly.

“Bucky tells me money is tight for you,” Tony feels comfortable enough to bring up after the plates are cleared, boxes are emptied, all of them reclining back in their seats, bellies full and sated.

Peter looks sleepy, eyes half-closed. He nods. “It is. I applied to NYU when my aunt and uncle were still alive. They said they’d help me pay for it, since my parents weren’t alive to help themselves. I got a scholarship that was going to do the rest, and everything seemed great my first few semesters. Then they passed away. I tried the work-study program, but there are limits on how many hours they’ll work students. So I worked a few other jobs too—but it just made everything worse. My grades slipped and I lost my scholarship.”

“Jesus,” Bucky mutters. “You’re one unlucky kid.”

“Look—Peter. It’s no secret that I’ve got more money than I know what to do with. Bucky here has taken a liking to you—” Peter gives a soft aww, looking so tender and touched “—I hope that you’ll let me help you out with some expenses. Get you back on your feet and focusing on your studies. How does that sound?”

Peter hums, one hand resting on his rounded stomach. “Mr. Stark—it sounds like a dream. Honestly. I’ve had like, three different dreams with hot older—uh—wait—what was I saying—”

“No, please, go on.”

“I just mean—I want to say yes.” His face grows serious, the thin, pretty mouth down-turned, a furrow between his eyebrows. “Not having any money—being poor, I guess—it’s really hard. And I know that I’m luckier than a lot of people. At least I’m not sleeping on the street. At least I’ve got, got clothes and stuff, you know. At least Mr. Rumlow lets me suck him off in exchange for rent. But my aunt and uncle, they didn’t raise me to—”

“Sorry, Pete, let’s back up,” Tony says. On his respective side of the table, Bucky has stiffened. He sits, stoic, hands clenched into fists on his lap, staring down at his empty plate. His jaw is a sharp enough weapon without it being clenched tightly enough to grind his teeth. Tony works hard to keep his own expression neutral and unalarmed, even though he feels nothing short of horrified. “Who is Mr. Rumlow?”

“Mr. Rumlow is the super. He runs the Lafayette Hall.”

“And you’ve got an arrangement with him.”

Peter hums, nodding. He coughs a little, and they wait, still like statues for him to continue. “I was late one month with rent. Single room apartments are so expensive. Mr. Rumlow was real understanding, though.”

Bucky gets up, chair screeching against the floor. He mutters some excuse and stalks to the balcony, opening the doors and stepping out into the wind. It’s starting to mist, and Bucky looks like a phantom haunting the building, a handsome gargoyle dressed in black, hair dripping, standing perfectly still with his hands on the railing. No doubt with his enhanced senses, he can still hear their conversation, but at least with his face turned towards the city, he can react however he needs to.

“It sounds like it,” Tony says, heart clenching. “Is that—something you like?”

“What’s not to like?” Peter asks. Something about this must be reaching through his drug induced fog, because his eyes are a little wider and more alert; perhaps, the haze of the cough syrup is fading. He sits up a litter straighter in his chair. “Free rent, Mr. Stark.”

“I mean to ask (and forgive me, kid, tactfulness is not in my DNA) if you’d engage Mr. Rumlow that way without the—ah—benefits.”

“Probably not,” Peter says. He looks down at his dress pants. The knees of his khakis are faded, worn, and he rubs at the spot anxiously. “He’s not really my type. But sometimes it does make me feel less lonely. Is that bad?”

It’s terrible. It’s heartbreaking. It’s illegal in New York. It’s immoral—the nerve of a person to take advantage of another’s financial vulnerability and coax them into prostitution—it makes Tony want to explode. But that’s not going to benefit Peter.

And that’s certainly not how Tony is going to get even with this Mister Rumlow. “No,” Tony says, soft. “I don’t think that’s bad.”

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, blinking slowly. “Could you call me a cab? I’m—I think I’m about to fall asleep on your table. It’s a nice table though. I’m sure it’d be very comfortable.”

“I’m sure that it wouldn’t, kid. I could call you a cab if you want. We’ve also got spare rooms here at the Tower, though. Why don’t you stay here tonight, take your first round of antibiotics and stick around for Bruce to be close by in case you need him?”

Peter turns pink, tickled at the offer. “You’ve already been so nice—I couldn’t—"

“You could. Like the Thai food, kid—if you aren’t enjoying those organic cotton sheets, then no one is. In the morning, we can talk more over breakfast. How do you feel about waffles?”

That sells him. The kid already looks hungry. “Alright. If you insist. Is Mr. Bucky okay? He’s been gone for a minute.”

“Mr.—” Tony laughs long and loud, unable to stop himself even as Peter’s face turns red. Out on the balcony, Bucky hunches over, and Tony thinks that maybe he’s laughing too. Smiling at least. Because the kid really is too fucking cute. “You can just call him Bucky. Formalities make him nervous. How about we check out the meds Bruce set you up with and then find you a room?”

“Sounds great,” Peter says. He’s the picture of contentment. “But I don’t have any way to repay you for all this, Mr. Stark.”

“Tony, kid. And don’t worry about it; I’m not looking for reimbursement.”

“I could suck you off,” Peter says, a little breathless. Coy, looking up at Tony through his eyelashes—only, no, that’s not coyness, it’s shyness. And instead of turning him on, the offer makes his heart break. “It works for Mr. Rumlow.”

“That doesn’t work for me, kid. Thanks, but no thanks.” He helps Peter out the chair, but with food in him, still feeling the benefits of the medicine he took, he is much steadier. Once he’s sure that the kid won’t tip out, Tony gives him space. He feels like a creep, thinking how adorable the kid is when obviously other people have seen it to—and abused it.

“In the morning, can I put peanut butter on my waffles?” Peter asks.

“You can put caviar on your waffles for all I care, kid.”

“I’ll stick with the peanut butter, thanks.”

After Peter has taken his first dose of antibiotics (and spent several long minutes ooo-ing and aww-ing over the guest room), he asks if he could speak to Bucky for a moment. Bucky is still on the balcony, soaked and unmoving. If he hears Peter ask, he doesn’t show it. Tony waves him ahead, standing back far enough that he knows he’ll have no chance at overhearing. Let Pete have his privacy.

Bucky is pale and solemn when he turns, blinking rain out of his eyes. The railing is twisted where he hands have been, but Tony doesn’t think that Peter notices. They exchange brief words, and then Peter hugs Bucky, wrapping thin arms around Bucky’s waist, resting his head against Bucky’s broad chest. They look like yin and yang. It’s art, he thinks. FRIDAY, image capture, please. The tenderness with which Bucky lifts a hand to cradle the back of Peter’s head is—God. Tony loves him.

When Peter comes back in, Bucky is on his heels. Peter’s shirt is wet from where he pressed against Bucky, and his cheeks are flushed, maybe with returning fever. Maybe. “Goodnight, Mr. Stark,” Peter says.

“Goodnight, kid. You need anything, just step out of your room and shout. Bucky here is a light sleeper.”

That makes Peter’s face turn even pinker as he bobs a nod and then disappears into the guest room, closing the door behind him softly.

“Are we, like, fucked over this kid?” Tony asks, jerking a thumb towards the guest room.

Bucky just shakes his head, and that’s all the answer Tony needs.

Tips not required but very welcome. Leave behind a prompt and I’ll write you a drabble in exchange. <3 Ko-Fi is here.

Tag list: @shinycreatoroafbonk @kkomusume @bound-vivisection @sorgmantel @phoenixwench @latenightsintherain @bros-before-ghosts @starkerthanreality @richieleeparker

If you want tagged please let me know. Not tagging my current starker taglist because since this is winterironspider, I wasn’t sure if you’re interested. <3

#winterironspider #winteriron #starker #chapter two #wip #poor!Peter

762 notes · View notes

snarkwriteswrasslin · 5 years ago

Note

FFT: I Wrote Myself Back in the Narrative

AHHH. First of all, without YOU, bb.. This idea would’ve never really full on clicked like it has. So.. Thank you so so so much and ILY. Second. This is written first person, split between our mystery guy from part 1 and the female’s pov as they... continue to deal with things. I triiiied things here.

It’s still angsty as hell, smh. It’s gonna be angsty as hell for a hot minute. Idek if I can promise that it’ll end on a good note. Because now there are two more parts to this. Thank you again, so so much because you heavily inspired me and without the input you gave, ugh. I would’ve fucked this up so bad.

Warnings: Angst. So much angst. Or my /attempt/ at angst. Maybe the next part will be happier, who knows. Are we ready to find out who this man in part 1 was? I have a feeling ya’ll are gonna murder me. OH OH... This whole part of everything takes place over the course of a few weeks in between each section. If that makes sense.

Tag Squad:

@kyleoreillysknee

@rampagewriting

@writertoo18

@thatnerdwriter

@wrestlingismyguiltypleasure

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@unabashedwrestlefics

@adampage

@cabotcoves

@dietwrestling

@heelsamizayn

@missjenniferb

@cowboyshit

[ tag list ] [ masterlist ] [ about ] [ part 1 ]

A D A M

“You did the right thing, man. I told ya, you were rushing headfirst into something. You were sparing her, man. We both know where it was heading. Now I know you’ve been missin her lately, but you gotta stay the course… Trust me.” Matt’s voice broke through my thoughts and I forced myself to at least shrug my shoulders and pretend to be listening to him going on and on and on.

It’s nights like tonight I really wish the guy would shut the hell up sometimes. It’s like he thinks it’s his place to tell me exactly what to do. Or when I’m doin’ something and he thinks I ought to be doing it different.

“Matt, man.. C’mon, knock it off. He’s hurting right now.” That was Nick. Probably the only real voice of reason at the moment. I could feel him glare at Matty over my head and I didn’t bother looking up from the lukewarm beer sitting in front of me. Instead, I raised the glass to my lips and did my level best to ignore both. I told them I’d be fine coming out by myself tonight, whether I wanted them tagging along or not, here they were.

In my ear, like usual.

“I’m fine.” the words left my mouth in a harsh tone, the dull ache in my teeth makin me realize just how tight I was clenching my jaw right now. I rubbed my face and tried to get some relief as I looked around the bar.

Beside me on either side, they kept at it, almost as if I hadn’t said a word. Arguin over whether Matt was pushin too hard.

“Besides, man.. When I saw her last week, she looked totally fine.” Matt shrugged, smirking just a little. “In a little bit of a hurry, but she seemed like it didn’t bother her at all. I think she even said something about a date, I don’t know, man. But it’s like I said… You did the right thing. It wasn’t working, so you ended things before someone got hurt and things got real messy.”

Every part of me tensed up when Matt said he’d seen her and my head snapped around as I looked at him, trying not to lose my temper. Suddenly, a thought occurred to me… Matt was entirely too adamant about me staying away.

And we all know how he is when he wants something.

,, you’re the one who let her go. Did you think she’d just sit around waitin?” the thought came and man was I bitter about it.

“You look mad, Adam.”

“Well I’m not thrilled right now, Matt.” the words came out before I could stop them. And when they did, I realized just how much the thought of Matt Jackson anywhere near her really bothered me. How much it had all along. Because he thinks I’m stupid but I knew every single time he flirted with her. I know he’s the one who told her about my last relationship and how messed up I was when it ended.

How my ex was the love of my life, to quote him. While true, I didn’t want or need him speaking for me and telling her that. I didn’t ask him to butt in.

,, you never do, to be honest.”

My hand curled around the bottle sitting in front of me and I shotgunned it. If I didn’t so something, I was going to wind up havin it out with Matt Jackson once and for all. Not that it hasn’t been a long time comin.. Between him and Kenny, as of late, I’m startin to lose my damn mind.

I stay angry.

They’re supposed to be my best friends, damn it. I don’t wanna hate my best friends. I try not to. I do everything but bend over backwards to avoid rocking the boat. But Matt seein her and just throwing it up in conversation just now, with that fucking smirk. Like he’s trying to rub it in. I’m dangerously close to no longer caring.

I had to get outta there. Away from the two of them. I needed to be alone. I needed to think. To have time to hurt and feel like I was free to do it.

“Where are you going, huh? We’ve got food coming, man. C’mon. Stay out with us. You can’t keep going to your room and hiding.” Nick was trying desperately to keep the peace but honestly, I didn’t want to. I snatched up the remainder of the six pack I bought from the bartender earlier in the night, slammed badly wadded money down on the counter and I stood, shoving the stool back beneath the bar.

Nick caught up to me outside the bar, reaching out for my arm, trying to stop me, but I shoved his hand off.

“Can’t either of ya take a damn hint? I don’t wanna talk about how I did the right thing. I don’t wanna hear about Matt runnin into her. I just wanna go five goddamn minutes without feelin, okay? Can either of ya just let me have that?”

Nick flinched and I took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Nick’s done nothin to me. Not like his brother and Kenny, always in my ear, always tryin to make me fall back in line and ignore my own gut. Or my own desires.

“Sorry, Nick. Look. I appreciate what you’re tryin to do but I ain’t exactly in the mood tonight, man. And I might not be in the mood for a while. And ya’ll have to be okay with that. Stop trying to make me snap out of it.”

“This is because Matt pulled that shit in there, right? I’ll talk to him later. Just take your time, man.” Nick managed a smile and I nodded, agreeing.

After he went back inside the bar to finish whatever food they ordered while watching the tail end of the game they’d dragged me out to watch with them tonight, I called an Uber and as I waited, I found myself doing it yet again.

Hovering over ❤ in my contacts, I was torn between finally doing it, finally deleting the last trace of her I had, from my life and just hitting call, just to see if she’d answer. Frustration made me shove the phone back into the pocket of my jeans without doing either and I went back to leaning up against the wall of the sports bar as I finished the open beer in my hand. I took the last sip, feeling the warmth slide down my throat and settle in my stomach, grimacing at the hangover already in progress. The Uber I’d called for pulled to a stop beside me and I got in, giving directions to the hotel and going silent after.

All the way across town and back to the hotel, I couldn’t stop thinking about that last night I saw her. Or the way it hurt like hell when Matt told me she seemed fine.

,, do you really want it to hurt her, though?”

I didn’t, but I couldn’t deny that maybe a part of me wanted her to miss me just a little. To hear Matt tell it, she’s fine and dandy. And this lead me to circle right back to how calmly she handled the whole thing that night.

And those doubts crept right back in again.

Maybe the guys were right. Maybe I did the right thing.

,, and Matt having a thing for flirting with her when you were together, right under your nose at that, that has absolutely nothing to do with why he thought it was a good idea.”

All I could honestly do was just sit in the backseat of the Uber and knock ‘em back, one behind the other. Anything else is out of the question right now. I am not goin’ down this road while I’m drunk and missin her.

If I did go down any road as far as all this is concerned, I wanna be one hundred percent sure I feel what I feel. I need to think. I need time outta the situation, without people in my ear.

This is something I have to do on my own.

VERONICA

Like most other nights, I tossed and turned on the king sized bed before finally calling it and getting up, grumbling to myself as I made my way down the hallway and into my kitchen. I started myself a pot of coffee and as I did that, I found myself scrolling Instagram.

Naturally, I found myself doing it, even though I unfollowed him on literally everything after things ended between us because it just hurt too damn much.

It’s been almost 5 months now and it still hurts. The pain still cuts like a knife when I actually give myself a little time to let it linger.

Kind of why I’ve thrown myself into work. I even made a Tinder profile, even though I’m absolutely loathe to use the damn thing.

Before I realized what I’d done, I’d typed his instagram handle into the search bar and I found myself scrolling his timeline while I sipped a steamy mug of coffee. “At least he looks okay.” I muttered to myself, shattering the heavy silence around me.

Despite myself, I wound up spending entirely too much time watching one of his random post match videos. Fingertip against the screen. It hurt so goddamn much and yet, it had to happen because all I could think about was how much he loved someone else and just kind of… settled for me.

Running into his friend Matt earlier this week hadn’t helped all this recent re-stirring. Because even now, actively not trying to think back and hurt and miss Adam knowing what happened between us was for the best… I kept going back to Matt reassuring me that Adam was perfectly fine and that he hadn’t been bothered by breaking up with me at all. And I kept getting more and more bitter over it.

When I felt a tear trek down my cheek, I tossed the phone onto the counter and scowled at my reflection in the microwave.

I told myself I was not settling for being silver. I wanna be someone’s gold.

,, but he made it so fucking easy to fall hard and fast. Get so wrapped up in him that for a little while, you didn’t think about that.” I blatantly shoved the thought down as soon as it crossed my mind and with a sigh, I sat the cup of coffee in the sink half drank.

I’ve got work. Other things to focus on. And I’m trying to look at the bright side here. One day, I’ll be someone’s gold.

VERONICA

→ You know you’re coming out with us tonight, right girl?

I got the text at 4:30, just as I walked out of the building I work in and stopped to dig around in my purse for my car keys. Once I read it, I laughed to myself and managed a smile. Normally, I’d have begged off. It’s what I’ve been doing a lot since things ended between Adam and I.

But I remembered what Matt told me two weeks ago when I bumped into him. Adam hasn’t wasted a single second caught up in what might have been. Why should I?

← Sure. 8, right? The usual spot?

→ Holy shit, is this a Christmas miracle coming early? You’re finally going to take a break from being Little Ms. Moneymaker?

I laughed to myself and opened the door to my car, getting in. As soon as I had, I dialed Marti’s number.

“Little Ms. Moneymaker, my ass. I’d like to see one shred of this money you think I’m making.” I responded to her last text seconds before, she hadn’t even said hello yet.

Marti laughed.

I turned into traffic, promptly getting stuck at a long red. “Fuck me alive.. It had to be the longest light in town.” I grumbled to myself, listening to Marti telling me about a soccer player she met at our usual bar a few weeks ago and how he’s supposed to be back from the road tonight and meeting her.

“Oh? Well, guess who made a Tinder and hasn’t bothered looking at it since.”

“You.. Wait…” Marti was laughing, I know she didn’t believe me, “You made a Tinder.”

“Yes.” I almost wanted to laugh at myself, shaking my head as I admitted it.

“Well? Have you met anybody?” she grilled.

“I made the profile and haven’t bothered looking at it since.” I admitted sheepishly, foot on the gas as the light changed from red to green.

“That’s it. Tonight, so help me. You’re swiping right on at least one guy.”

“Teenie..”

“Don’t Teenie me. This is happening. Not to mention, I have to see if you actually made your profile worth looking at twice. Especially if you want hookups. And trust me girl, you need a hookup.”

“Like I need a goddamn hole in my head.” I snorted in laughter as I pulled my car to a stop at the curb in front of my house. “But fine.. Since you insist. You can look over my Tinder profile and see if it looks like I’m worth risking a swipe on.”

“You are, don’t say that. You just… try to hide the real you under all that boring shit.”

I bit my lip as I let her words sink in.

Maybe she had a point. I hadn’t truly let Adam in until I thought it was safe to do so and look how that one turned out. I sighed quietly, nodding to myself as I shut the door to my car with my hip. “Okay. Hint taken. But maybe I need to change all that.”

“So maybe you’ll pull the stick out of your ass tonight and have just a little fun? You know I hate seeing you hurting like this.”

“It doesn’t hurt. It was for the best… That whole thing ended.”

As much as I hate admitting it, given what Matt told me when we ran into each other, things ending with Adam and I had to be the right choice.

,, but what if you’re totally wrong?”

ADAM

I’m not even sure what possessed me to look her up when we got a little break between shows and the road. I don’t know what the hell I thought it’d accomplish, casually bumpin into her again, other than ripping the band-aid off a healing wound.

But here I was. Standing in the parking lot of her office building. Hidden out of sight, of course. Not that I was going to stay hidden. No, I’d come all this way to do exactly one thing… To fix the mess I now know full well I made that night.

I’ve had time out of it all and I realized one thing.

Somewhere in everything, I really had fallen for her. Hard.

I just had to hope it wasn’t too late. But prepare myself because lately, my luck’s been absolute shit.

My breath caught in my throat as I watched her walking out. I bit my lip, eyes roaming slowly, just taking her in. Because I hadn’t done that nearly enough when she was mine. I was an idiot.

Seeing her again felt like a suckerpunch to the stomach. The wind got knocked right out of me. I stood there, trying to will myself to step out. To say or do anything. Even if it was simple as a hey.

She walked right past me, towards her Camaro a few rows back and she leaned against the Camaro, laughing and talking. I had to get closer but at the same time, I knew that all I was doing was torturing myself, especially if I came all this way and said nothing.

I watched her smile light up the world around me as a car pulled to a stop next to her car. The guy got out and she smiled even brighter, her cheeks tinting pink, her eyes lighting up, the streetlight above bathing her in a cool white glow as the sun sank lower.

The guy didn’t strike me as her type. Dark haired, wearin a suit. He held out a bouquet of roses and my stomach sank to the ground. I raised a hand, tugging at my hair as it hit me.

Everything I realized recently was too little, too late.

I turned and started to walk away, I think I wandered about two blocks before I stopped at a little bar and went in, ordering myself a few rounds. Almost the instant my ass met stool, my cell phone was buzzing in my pocket. I rolled my eyes when I realized that it was Kenny calling.

Kenny who suggested I come here. Seeing her might prove things one way or another. I shouldn’t have fucking listened to him, but naturally.. He insisted, so I finally gave in to get him off my ass.

“Well?”

“I think it’s really over, man. I saw her, alright. And she’s happy. Too happy to do what I came to do.”

“So you’re good now. You can let this go. You can stop all this pushing you’ve been doing lately?”

“Oh, I’m not stoppin that. We all know I deserve a shot. I just know better than to mess up her happiness. I love her too much for that.”

“Damn it, Adam, we’ve all went over this with you. Your time is coming. Just not right now. Besides, “ Kenny paused, taking a few deep breaths. I could feel his annoyance over the conversation through the phone.

That’s not a surprise. Lately, I’ve started to see that unless it’s about them? They’re not interested. And maybe I’m tired of letting everybody else dictate what direction I take. Hell, that’s the whole reason I ended things with her to begin with.

I let my insecurities get in the way. Kept thinking one day she’d leave too.

Now I just want her back.

So if I can’t have her back? I’m at least going to do something about everything else I want that stays just outside my grasp.

“Besides what, huh?” I snapped, chewing on a toothpick I’d taken from the little dispenser full sitting in front of me, scowling at the phone in my hands.

“You’re not in your best form right now, buddy and you haven’t been in weeks.”

I hung up before he could say anything else.

And as I sat there, nursing round after round, I found myself doing it for the millionth time… Going to her instagram and going through every single thing she’s posted. Hovering over her name in my contacts list and nearly calling five, six, almost seven times before I finally sighed and made myself delete her number.

I really fucked it up this time.

And honestly? Knowing that hurts more than the end ever did in the first place...

#kyleoreillysknee

13 notes · View notes

thessaliah · 5 years ago

Note

I really like the theory of the cause being all the lives and "histories" that humanity has discarded or thrown away. It fits with Galahad's total lack of interest in helping Ritsuka and Mashu, as he seems like the type of "way too righteous hero" that probably didn't like the "system" to begin with.

It was an old theory of mine based on the PV (and how Nasu subtly compared Goetia’s actions with the Pruning System actions in the Moonlight Lostroom booklet). Before I thought about Chaldeas/Laplace connection tie-in and explored that angle too, I assumed was Marisbury who saw these when he activated Chaldeas and felt shame, but it could be its own content made from the Void (Animusphere chant has the formula). They don’t contradict themselves, because LAPLACE allows recording those things lost, TRISMEGISTUS runs simulations, CHALDEAS provide a pseudo model of Earth they can project into. While this made Animusphere family really dangerous, this and their shortcomings and hubris (Marisbury's and Olgamarie) are dragged into probably the colorless wishes of those who are gone (just like Olga herself), if there is no mastermind (there could be a mastermind, though). If there is a mastermind, I wonder if it’s our Marisbury or Animusphere, or from another timeline (or an Alter Ego). Cut for length.

They must create something new based on things that could have been that were already on the Planet. It's not the orthodox past the Beast manifests from, but elements of a fictional history. You must eliminate Panhistory to install that to prepare the Advent of the new “God.”U Olga can be ignorant of history now because she is born of a lostbelt tree of fantasy. Even so, she can still be Olga, because as the God/Beast, she has a fictional background she’s born from that changed her memories, she still is Olga. Those are probably feelings and needs she repressed too.

(And the priestess could have been Olga, if she still remains at all or has transformed into “Ultra Olga”, but her attitude from murderous and bitter to more empathetic with some people is completely understandable: she discarded too. Her inability to choose when Kirschtaria asked her in Atlantis is because she resigned and didn’t know what to choose).

(And addendum: I’m also sure her Sin and feelings, and her family mission to preserve the future got mixed in Chaldeas or the colorless Void made of this crushed grudge and stirred things too. I’m not saying is only her fault, but it’s going to be a part of this mess, which explains why Lev is trying to make her decide what she wants to do in Lostroom and why Kirschtaria asked her why she’s still silent about this: her choice will matter. Her choice even if it wasn’t fully formed, mattered in Melty Blood Backalley Nightmare too.

It’s many things that are happening but I have issues to string together this, that’s why I started by the “nature” of the “God of a Different Planet” to iron the contradictions that I don’t believe exist - they can be explained with clever loopholes).

Kirschtaria’s attempt to build a world where people are on more equal terms, to find an “answer”, wasn’t that his attempt to change the system of men without needing a god, and maybe (this is a little headcanon) hoping for humanity as collective to modify that system too. The counter force and system change with men (Lostbelt 3 is proof), so is not insane to assume that this godlike humanity would be able to collectively desire something else. In a world where losers and winners aren’t so marked, maybe their unconscious world logic will soften. Forgive me, I’m rambling about this.

Unfortunately, I don’t think Nasu’s going to break the status quo. He doesn’t dare. Just like death and painful things exist, this will go to “accept it happens” (Sugita’s taunts about reading your sacrificial offerings in the PV). We also must accept unfairness and inequality are a part of our world, and that won’t change. There are winners and losers. The best Guda and Mash can do is to treat the losers humanly despite their intention to deny them, and carry their wills and feelings. Like they would pass on someone else their feelings and wills should Panhistory decide it’s their turn to lose. I dislike the sentiment behind this. It’s why the battle against Kirschtaria left a bad taste in my mouth. The current world circumstances that desperately scream is time to stand up and change, and we get a lukewarm “it sucks, but it’s what we got” narrative is so frustrating!

#fgo ask #sigh #status quo is best is so very cultural in most japanese fiction #not all of them but unfortunately a lot

4 notes · View notes

prettywordsyouleft · 6 years ago

Text

Worthy

Prompt: #65 & #142 for anon – “I don’t deserve to be loved.” + “My favourite person in the world is standing right in front of me.”

Anonymous said:

Drabble request: 65 & 142 with Kihyun from MX?

Pairing: Yoo Kihyun x reader (ft. Lee Minhyuk)

Genre: friends to lovers au / angst / romance / self-growth

Warnings: complex relationship and personal feelings make this a little more mature than I usually write.

Word count: 3506

Stirring, you glanced at the time on your phone and inwardly cursed, you had fallen asleep after all. Glancing at the man behind you, following his outstretched arm all the way to where his hand rested over your waist loosely, you gingerly lifted it, attempting to slide out of his grip.

He groaned and pulled you closer, nestling into your bare back. “Don’t go.”

“I have to get home, I have work in the morning,” you explained quietly, but your words were enough to interrupt the remnants of his slumber, his eyes opening with the heavy sigh that fanned across your cheek.

“You know we could solve this issue of ours.”

“It wouldn’t be an issue if I hadn’t have fallen asleep,” you replied, but he held you still, not accepting your premature departure. Kissing your shoulder softly, he then kissed his way back up to your ear.

“Why don’t you just store some things here?”

“As in..?”

“You could move in with me,” he offered demurely, and a cold panic consumed you. Pulling his arm off with less care as before, you immediately reached over the side of the bed to collect your strewn garments.

He watched you from behind. “Why don’t you want to move in with me, baby?”

“I like having my space.”

“I’m not home all the time.”

That had been something you liked about this connection. Jake travelled a lot and so you didn’t feel as if you were weighed down by any expectations.

Until now.

“I’m happy living where I am.”

Jake attempted to capture your gaze but you avoided him, ducking for your socks and placing them over your feet roughly. He sighed again. “Are you scared to move in with me?”

“No, because I don’t want to.” Your defensive tone stunned him into silence and despite how much your heart was thudding in your chest, you tried to ease your approach. “We’re not really in that kind of relationship, right?”

“What kind of relationship is this meant to be, Y/N?” Jake wondered you stared back at him, chewing your bottom lip in thought.

It was meant to be one where you wouldn’t feel entrapped. You were no good at relationships and so you had been picky about who you spent your time with. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Jake, he was a great guy. He helped fill the void of loneliness but left you with enough independence that you could do your own thing. It had been working this well for eight months now, without any established role to what this exactly was. Clearly, he had been on a different wavelength than you had been.

Smiling weakly, you leaned in to kiss him on the cheek before departing his bedroom and apartment soon after. You could already feel the end of your connection before you left the apartment complex.

You chose to remain alone after everything fell apart with Jake. He had tried one more time to convince you around, and you had fled altogether, messaging him that it was no longer working for you.

It never did.

You didn’t want to admit that you were afraid of commitment, but that was exactly your problem. You had experienced the feeling of being in love. True, vulnerable, and soul-completing love. And instead of meeting your happily ever after, you came home to find a friend in your place in the bedroom, horrified that the people you had trusted with every part of you could shatter you into a thousand pieces so easily. You vowed to never allow a man your heart again. The only person you could trust to care for its fragility was yourself and so you had adopted a belief that being single suited you just fine.

And then you would get swept up in the throes of passion with someone, enjoying the feeling of in that moment being the only person they craved. You had tried to accept that someone else might not break you again, yet every time someone tried to define what they had with you, or progress further into living together like Jake had, you ran as fast as you could. The panic wouldn’t settle until you were safely away and alone again.

You didn’t like that you couldn’t commit but you weren’t prepared to drop your standards either. You had long lost the respect for your childhood dreams of meeting the man of your dreams and experiencing a fairytale love.

Because that didn’t exist in this lifetime.

“Are you seriously going to be alone forever?” your friend Minhyuk exclaimed, shaking his head disapprovingly at you. “Y/N, you’re a great catch!”

“I don’t want the mess that comes with relationships,” you told him pointedly and smiled up at the person who placed your drink in front of you.

Kihyun shunted Minhyuk before sitting down. “Y/N isn’t a fish.”

“You know what I was meaning, both of you do,” he chided with a roll of his eyes and you smirked at Kihyun before taking a sip of your drink. Minhyuk groaned. “Why do I have two friends who are useless in the love department?!”

“Hey! I’m not useless!” Kihyun cried and you laughed.

“And I don’t care for love unless it’s self-love. Then you can load me all up!”

Minhyuk scoffed loudly. “You’ll regret that when you find yourself as a miserable maid when all your friends are married around you. Even Kihyun will eventually find someone and-”

“WOULD YOU CUT IT OUT?!” Kihyun smacked Minhyuk around the back of his head and you erupted with laughter again.

You didn’t need to find someone to cure the loneliness now that you had these two in your life. Moving cities had been daunting, as had your first day in the office of your job. Being seated between Minhyuk and Kihyun had eased all your concerns. Minhyuk was the energy maker, keeping you laughing throughout every shift. And Kihyun was the best to work on projects with. You had established an easy working ethic that had stemmed into a reliable friendship. You hadn’t felt this validated as a human in years.

But you weren’t ready to risk all the work you had done so far getting to this point with your old habits either.

With a few more drinks in your system, and Minhyuk’s incessant whining about your lack of dating skills, you let out a heavy breath, pointing vaguely in his direction. “Enough! I don’t deserve to be loved. Focus on your own love life!”

“What rubbish is that?!” he wailed back, slinging his arm around Kihyun’s neck and shaking the silent man roughly. “Did you hear that?”

“Mm, Y/N doesn’t deserve love.”

“But she does!” Minhyuk flailed his free hand around dangerously and you watched it, moving your head along with the vigorous action. “You do!”

“If I did, he wouldn’t have cheated on me,” you admitted, the liquid courage lending you the words you had craved to speak up to someone over all these years. It felt liberating to finally utter it to someone without any judgement. “I was a good girlfriend!”

“And you can be again, I know it!” Minhyuk agreed, looking at Kihyun for back up. The other male simply stared at you, expression unreadable.

You hiccupped and shook your head. “I won’t ever take the risk of trusting another man with this heart of mine. They don’t deserve it!”

“Even if they will look after it well?” Kihyun finally spoke and you glanced back at him, realising he wasn’t nearly as drunk as you and Minhyuk were. His gaze bore deep inside of you, searching for the answers your brain couldn’t quite bring forth in your current state. You blinked slowly, feeling panicked by the way he watched you.

And just as quick as he had turned his attention to you, Kihyun smiled and pulled Minhyuk up to his feet. “We’re drunk. Let’s go home, hm?”

Nothing was said about your confession when you were all lucid. Yet over the weeks since uttering it, you felt things between you and Kihyun change. It wasn’t obvious, the subtle nuances cropping up when you least expected it. He had always been courteous towards you, and had you not been treated poorly in the past, you would have recognised his charms as a man. Minhyuk was forever teasing his friend because he wasn’t actively seeking out a girlfriend whenever he had free time to like he was. But you believed Kihyun was definitely interested in finding someone.

She just had to be the right match.

“Minhyuk’s ditching us again,” you told Kihyun in the elevator on the way down to get coffees for the department and Kihyun glanced at you, smirking.

“Why does it still surprise you? He’s got it into his head that he’ll meet the love of his life and be married with kids by thirty-five. He needs to find her soon if he wants to keep to his structured timeline.”

“I actually admire his life plan.”

“Did you ever have one?”

Glancing at Kihyun, you thought back to how that had gone for you. Smiling sadly, you nodded. “Once.”

“The one you talked about that night?” With another look in his direction, he gave you a wry smile. “I remember. Did you want me to forget it?”

“It was the first time I told someone why I avoid relationships,” you stated softly and stepped out onto the ground floor. When you were both out of the building, you sighed. “I’m glad you remember.”

Silence walked between you both, neither saying the words needed to continue the topic. Just as you saw the coffee store come into sight, Kihyun stepped in front of you, giving you one of his eye-reaching smiles. “Do you want to do something tonight? We could go see a movie or get food.”

“That awfully sounds like a date,” you teased and Kihyun gauged your reaction, no humour evident in his face. Your smile waned. “Is… is it?”

“It doesn’t have to be anything other than what I said it as, a movie to watch and food to eat.”

You hesitated, looking up into his warm eyes. Kihyun always made you feel comfortable in his company. Smiling, you nodded. “I’ll buy the popcorn.”

It had been a bad idea.

Once seated in the darkened theatre with Kihyun, you felt your heart begin to pound in your chest, anticipating a move made by him. You were used to this, meeting up with men at a movie normally ended up with more caresses of hands in places than eyes on the screen watching the show. It was a stone throw away from ending up back at his house or yours, with mouths entangled as clothing fell to the floor. You swallowed; it had been all too long since you had done such a thing.

And yet, Kihyun did nothing to entice you to his side. He smiled at you when his hand reached into the popcorn at the same time as yours and then back to the movie, more interested in that than you. You weren’t offended, nor were you relieved. It was hard to judge what reaction you should have in such a foreign atmosphere.

You realised you hadn’t done anything with a friend in forever. Then again, when your ex had cheated on you, it had been with one of your closest friends. You had shut the door on them just as much as you had on love.

You sighed; this wasn’t how you had wanted to spend your life.

“The movie was good, huh?” Kihyun suggested afterwards and you smiled weakly up at him, nodding once. He wasn’t convinced. “What was your favourite part?”

“I uh….”

“You can’t tell me because you weren’t present in that theatre room, you know,” he mentioned, stepping off ahead of you a little. You jogged to catch up, now stepping outside into the darkened night air.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, I’m not very good at being a friend sometimes.”

��I think you are,” Kihyun corrected, turning to face you. He placed his hands on your shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “I think you’re capable of being so much more than you allow yourself to be too.”

Was this his way of hitting on you? Your mind was confused and you didn’t know what to expect anymore. Things would be much easier to decipher if Minhyuk was here.

“Do you wanna skip the food? I’ll take you home,” he announced, unlocking his car.

The ride was silent as you sat there overthinking everything. What was Kihyun’s motive? Friendship? Something more? Had he really just wanted to spend time with you since Minhyuk was busy? Or would he have suggested this even if your mutual friend was available too?

You decided you had no idea of how to control anything in this world you now lived. It was different in your last home. You had intentions and you fulfilled them. When you came here, you assumed you would continue on that solo path through life. You hadn’t expected to make friends with Minhyuk or Kihyun so effortlessly.

And that’s why you were misconstruing everything about tonight.

The car came to a halt outside your apartment complex and you unbuckled your seat, however, you remained unmoving. “Kihyun… what did tonight mean to you?”

“It meant a movie and maybe some food, why?”

“So as friends?” He let out a shaky breath which garnered your attention, and you turned to look at him. Those were eyes you had seen before in other men. You couldn’t tell if you liked the expression that resided there or not. “Something more?”

“I like you, Y/N,” he confessed simply, nodding to himself as he smiled sadly. “But you don’t like yourself enough to let me in.”

“I like myself,” you responded, a little surprised by his conclusion. “I just don’t trust others.”

“Because someone who didn’t deserve your love hurt you, I get it. But I’m not him, I’m not going to hurt you,” he assured and as you stared into his eyes, you knew he believed in his statement. You smiled; Kihyun would definitely make someone giddily happy to have as their boyfriend. You then let your smile fall away.

You couldn’t let him be your boyfriend.

“I had a nice time.”

“You were waiting to see if I would make a move, is that how you used to do things with men? Expect the horse to rush out of the gate from the get-go?”

You gaped at him, unsure where the confidence came from within him to address you like that. He smiled sadly once again. “As I said, you don’t like yourself.”

“You have no right to pass judgement on my life, Yoo Kihyun.”

“You’re right, I don’t. Nor do you have to categorise me like the men before me either. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want,” he told you simply, shrugging before placing his hands in his lap.

It infuriated you, even more so that his words were making you feel weak. You hadn’t been aware of how much you longed for someone to take care of you like this. To speak to you as he was. It was charming and before you recognised the desire to, you were kissing him passionately. Kihyun caught your movement well enough, stabilising you against him as he kissed you back.

You tasted the longing he had endured over the past eight months of knowing you. Perhaps, some of that stemmed from your own desires. You had painted Kihyun as the nice guy one too many times in your mind, the type you would date in a heartbeat if you weren’t so messed up.

You honestly believed you hadn’t been his type.

Yet as his lips continued to press into yours, begging for more, you wondered why you had been so blind all along. He had been always there for you. Ready to help you solve any issues, to wipe away your tears even if you couldn’t tell him why. He made you smile more than you could count, and he was incredibly comforting to be around.

You couldn’t lose this.

Jerking back your head, you then shook it, clambering out of the car and towards the apartment complex. Kihyun managed to get in front of you, gasping noisily from how much air you had sucked out of him and from his haste to ensure you didn’t get too far away so quickly.

“Is that it? You’re going to run away after one kiss?”

“Why, do you want to come upstairs and sleep with me and find out how much of a mess I am when I decide you’re too good for me then?” you countered and he cursed lowly, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m not too good for you.”

“Kihyun, I’m a mess, you pointed it out. Don’t get involved with me.”

“Why not? My favourite person in this world is standing in front of me right now and she just kissed me too. Am I not allowed to fight for this?”

“Do you have some kink about fixing broken girls?” you spat and he shook his head honestly. You sighed; you were so quick to break anything before it began. Tears welled in your eyes and he reached for you then, hugging you softly. You clung to him, burying in deep. “I’m scared.”

“I know you are.”

“I like you too,” you mumbled into his neck, feeling safe despite your worry. This embrace couldn’t ease your heart even though you want it to. “But I can’t be with you, not like this.”

“Come to me when you can then.”

It wasn’t as awkward as you thought it would be to go to the office on Monday. Kihyun smiled at you as he always did, and Minhyuk was non-stop chattering about some girl he met at the singles night he went to. It felt as if everything had slipped back into the way they always had been, the forbidden kiss not spoken of for the rest of the week. In fact, three weeks passed and Kihyun continued to be how he had always been with you. He worked on projects with you, laughed with you and supported you when you needed it.

It bothered you that you didn’t have the confidence to talk to him about that night the longer time slipped between you.

You decided to seek help. After all, the way your brain was conflicted over him, you needed to do something. Talking to Minhyuk about it would end with him locking the pair of you up together until something happened. And whilst that was a proactive approach, you knew you needed to make this one on your own.

Having someone to talk to about your past, about the pain you had inflicted on yourself was empowering. You had started to heal. Of course, it was early days, but you had actually started to love yourself properly. All these years you had believed you did, your protection towards your heart seeming as a sign of just that. But it was stunting your ability to grow from the experience.

“Minhyuk’s busy with his girlfriend tonight,” Kihyun mentioned in the elevator with a sigh and you glanced at his pouting face. “I guess I’ll have to spend another night alone watching Netflix. Don’t get a roommate that you’re not prepared to share with someone else, Y/N.”

You giggled, poking his arm playfully. “You have other friends, hang out with them.”

“None of them like my taste in movies.”

“I do.”

He arched an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile appearing on his lips. “The last movie we watched just you and I was a complete failure.”

“So you do remember.”

“How could I forget? Remember, you’re one of my favourite people.”

“I distinctively recall you saying I was your favourite person, Kihyun. Since when did I have to share the spot?”

Kihyun grinned, stepping outside into the sunny mid-morning. “I’m not sure if you get to keep that top spot when I’m not yours.”

“Who says you’re not?” you asked, stepping in front of him and placing your hands on your hips. “My favourite person in the world is standing right in front of me.”

“Is he just?”

You nodded dramatically. “Except, he didn’t just kiss me, so maybe he’s not worth fighting for.”

“Rude!” he quipped and you fell back into step at his side, glancing down at his hand swinging loosely at his side. You reached for it, entwining your fingers with his. Kihyun glanced down at your linked hands and then smiled. “No kiss?”

“I’m all about taking it slow these days, how do you feel about that?” you offered, feeling giddy from just holding his hand. Kihyun squeezed it gently, letting you know just how much he liked it as well.

“As long as I’m with you, we can take all the time in the world.”

_________________

[Drabble Game Masterlist] | [MONSTA X Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

263 notes · View notes

transgamerthoughts · 5 years ago

Text

Final Fantasy 7 Remake: Thoughts and Ramblings

Surprised to dust this off but I want to collect my thoughts quickly now that credits are rolling on Remake:

In general, I enjoyed it quite a lot. As one of many players with a unique relationship to the original (I first “played” it watching a childhood friend over the course of several sleepovers before playing on my own and occasionally returning to it) I was skeptical. I’ve express some of that skepticism at Kotaku , a website I write at. Remakes and remasters sometimes fall short or deviate in strange ways. Remake forges its own path and I’m grateful for it.

SPOILERS AHEAD KIDDOS

So! Here’s some scattered thoughts. Maybe they end up on Kotaku, maybe not. And while I’m loathe to immediately rush to create content on a Sunday night, this game has my mind spinning. Here we go.

The characterizations in this game are very strong, perhaps stronger than the original’s Midgar section. Some of that is owed to a very bad localization in ‘97 (you can get insight into that from my former colleague Tim Rogers’ series here) but Remake takes a lot of effort to allow the cast to breathe. That can come from the ways in which Cloud alters his way of taking with Tifa, and it can come in the moment where Barrett is more explicitly an ideologue. It’s quite good even if the script has a flaw that we’ll talk about in a second.

That flaw is, frankly, that if you’ve not played the original then Remake is going to end up impenetrable in the final hours. This is particularly true once characters like Zack are brought into the fold and the visuals begin to mirror the original. (See: the hard cuts before Sephiroth and Clouds final duel mirroring the Omnislash moment from ‘97.) I don’t think that diminishes the character work here but I think that the more interesting meta-narrative stuff *so* damn crucial to this game that I can’t imagine what a newcomer will think.

Connected to this, I’ve seen folks disappointed that this is not a perfect remake but in this instance, I think that sentiment is misplaced. Valid, but shortsighted? You can’t make Final Fantasy VII today. Not in the way it existed in ‘97. Which isn’t to say the visuals or script but the context cannot be reproduced. New hardware, FMVs taking a forefront, an advertising campaign that positioned the game in competition with movies, and a cultural splash that the series hasn’t ever quite replicated. Because the weight of expectation hovers over Remake—folks have been obsessed with a new version since the PS3 tech demo stirred imagination at E3 2020—the game *needs* to be about that. To be a game about this moment, the moment gamers have waited decades for, Remake needs to be about itself in a very explicit way.

I can’t not see the Whispers and Arbiters of Fate as anything other than stand-ins for gamers, fans, and the culture as a whole. That’s an obvious reading but an undeniable one. The core question of Remake doesn’t really have much to do with the fictional stakes. It’s this: who owns Final Fantasy VII, and who owns the Remake? Is it the story tellers or the players? I have a cheat answer: it belongs to the characters. In unbinding themselves from player expectation, they claim ownership over the narrative now.

Aeris just flat out knows she’s in a sequel/alt-timeline thing. Her final line is about missing the surety of something as presumably ever present at the metal sky of Midgar’s plates.

I like the combat here more than FFXV, which isn’t saying a lot but worth saying. There’s more participation from the player. That’s it. I don’t think *more* active choice inherently makes a combat system better but it is the key reason this works better than XV.

Character swapping breaks things somewhat since enemy aggro is (save for using the provoke materia) focused on the player. Wish the combat design took this into consideration a bit more. It’s the one glaring flaw in the system.

Tifa is the most fun to play as in this game. It’s not even a contest. Starshower is overpowered as hell and Chi Trap rules. Love using her to increase the potency of the stagger meter when the time comes.

Fights do get occasionally Too Busy. Airbuster is a big culprit here. Too many phases for what was essentially a jobber of a boss in the original game.

Train Graveyard section is an atrocious pace killer as well. Again: “too many notes.”

I never found the Nail Bat and that was a bit of a bummer.

I tweeted out a quote from Barrett this weekend and it made the rounds. In general, for this game, Barrett works best in this revolutionary mode even if certain scenes (Shinra middle manager for instance) deploy visual language that’s dated. Of any character, he has the highest highs and lowest lows. Not surprising.

re: that tweet some folks kinda lost their shit about it(?) but I think the quote still holds. Remake does a good job of showing *individuals* within Shinra but Barrett does rightly note they are complicit to an extent in Shinra’s crimes. You can disagree with what Barrett does about it but that’s 100% true. Sorry, not sorry. (The discourse today was just a hassle frankly. Multiple things can be true at once, but I don’t think Twitter is a place where that’s ever acknowledged.) Whatever eventual regrets he might feel about methodology in ‘97′s script, he’s not wrong on this individual point. I’m interested to see where he goes as a character when it comes to all this.

Kinda related to the above, Remake arguably does a better job than ‘97 showing the alternative to Shinra. It’s the communal nature of the individual sectors. It’s the Neighborhood Watch and local leaders in Sector 7, the trio in Wall Market. Remake rejects Shinra’s autocracy and favors the various slums communes. This is made ever more clear by how little of Reeve we see in this script. Who are the leaders shaping life into a passable experience in Midgar? It’s not the Urban Planning guy with the cat robot.

Also: hey, is that Cait Sith in the plate drop cutscene? Yep! Hope you played the original or there’s just this sad cat that shows up for 4 four seconds.

Is he a Chad? Well, he’s Chad-ley...

Not sure what to think of the Wutai stuff being more explicit but it feels right for 2020 for a variety of reasons. I’ve never been too interested in FF7′s realpolitik tho. It’s not really much of an expansion so much as a background element but one that’s deployed a bit lazily.

Roche owns in a way I was not expecting. He’s a balls to the wall anime motherfucker and I kinda love him? I’m really, really surprised that (as far as I could tell) he didn’t even come back for the final bike sequence tho.

I don’t really have the energy to litigate or talk about Wall Market much. I think it’s better than the original but pandering in the sense that it’s a very safe and commodified version of queerness. I appreciate that Nomura and folks looked at the original and were like “well, we can’t do *that*” but it doesn’t quite land for me.

That said: “yes, I know, nailed it,” is a fantastic line with a fantastic read from Cloud’s English VA.

Hell House announcers rule. Hell House fight? Kinda terrible actually.

Nice shout out to Kunsel in Shinra Tower. Crisis Core is a messy game but I like Tabata’s work a lot. Even the messy stuff, which is most of it. That game’s story is bonkers but I like Zack and I actually like the idea of the Digital Mind Wave as a mechanic. If nothing else, Squeenix lost a pretty exciting designer when he left.

Less nice? This game’s tendency to pad out dungeons. The whole approach to the Sector 5 reactor comes to mind. Train fight then tunnels then sun lamps then reactor. It’s a lot. Also: all of the extra Hojo stuff. I know we’re padding out like 5 hours but some of the sections could have been abbreviated. Probably would have made the game better.

Even less nice? Zack’s English voice actor. Maybe the only voice actor I didn’t like. Really miss Rick Gomez on this one.

Conversely, Red XIII? They nailed it. 11/10. Nanaki, I love you so much.

Counterstance is an amazing move and I can’t want to carry that over into Hard Mode.

The Jenova fight fuckin’ ripped. I was a bit huffy when I learned through leaks that there was a Jenova fight (since the first fight in the original is on the boat to Costa Del Sol) but this was a great set piece. One of the moments where everything worked.

Also good: Rufus fight. Bad: losing Rufus’ speech to the party.

Not a ton more thoughts right now? Sephiroth fight was good although for all his presence in the story I think we suffer without the full Nibelheim flashback to round things out. In all really liked it. Want to play again pretty much immediately. Will write something more cogent for the site I guess? Got a few ideas. But yeah! entered as skeptic and left mostly a believer on this one.

#final fantasy vii remake #spoilers

9 notes · View notes

theskyeandsea · 5 years ago

Text

The Hope Cure || Morgan & Skylar

Location: Tower Music and Comics

People involved: @mor-beck-more-problems, @theskyeandsea

Hands idly tapping the side of her leg, Skylar waited outside of Tower Comics, her phone resting in the pocket of her jeans. She didn’t want to be scrolling through her phone when Morgan arrived, that would be rude, right? And it had been really nice of her to offer to visit the store with her in the first place. Skylar winced-- she really didn’t know much about what Morgan did and didn’t like, besides her Etsy things, magic, and some kind of hospital drama that had been playing when Skylar had visited her home. And here Morgan had invited her to go out and do something that she specifically enjoyed. Mmmm. She needed to be more attentive to other people; just because she was going through her own… situation, that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to help people. Sighing, she shook her head. Maybe next time she would invite Morgan to watch something at her place? Or try and help her with magic that didn’t involve knives. Mm. She’d figure it out. Noticing someone walking down the street in her peripheral vision, Skylar glanced up and she saw the other woman approach her. “Hey. Thanks for meeting me,” She said with a warm smile.

Morgan gave a wave and a big smile at Skylar as she approached. She’d lost track of whether exactly she’d given enough recompense for the debacle with the blood magic or if she was opening another door that would have to be balanced. With the kids in town, it was easier to give, send energy outwards in little ways, than to take their compassion, their understanding. Those were precious gifts, gifts that curses might take notice of. But either way, Morgan needed a break. So did Skylar. There were enough angsts and traumas to go around in this place-- maybe they really could just help each other, and this whole thing could even out to zero without causing much of a cosmic stir. That would be okay, right?

“Hey!” She said, coming closer now. “Of course! I’ve been needing to get out of the house. It’s an awful time of the semester. But I guess you know that from the kids you work with too. Why don’t you show me around?”

Nodding at Morgan’s words, Skylar let out a sigh. “Yeah… That’s a fair point. There’s a lot that’s been going on lately. It’s been keeping me on my toes.” Though she wasn’t a teacher, she was getting used to the shifts in mood with her students. Now that most of the big holidays were over, the younger kids were counting down the days for spring break and her high schooler was stressing over his up-coming SAT test. So, there was a lot going on, on top of all the general… weirdness happening outside of work. “Mhm, for sure.” She said, holding open the door for Morgan before slipping inside. The comforting smell of the comic shop welcomed her, of old paper and a slight scent of dust gathering on some of the old records that lay on the other side of the shop. “So, there’s a bunch of serialized comics over here, some manga in that section, and then graphic novels. They’ve got a really great selection.” Skylar said with a nod towards the shelves full of books, the tables laden with box after box of comic books.

The comic store had a comforting smell inside that but Morgan’s body more at ease. It was the same as libraries, as bookshops. Soft, cool paper and ink, bound and accessible. Knowledge, history, story. Morgan only had the vaguest of ideas about what made those categories distinct. There were a few famous titles she was familiar with, but most of it, especially the manga, was uncharted territory. “I know you said you like manga,” Morgan said, scanning the shelves. “Any recommendations? I still haven’t seen all of Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood, and uh, I saw Spirited Away once? When it first came out and everyone was talking about it. Not sure if that’s much to go on, though,” she said, smiling sheepishly. “How are you, by the way--?” She gave the question gently, as if that might make it lighter. Skylar had been through it lately, just as much as she had, and all the worse for being so young, and so much more on her own.

“I like a lot of different things, honestly. And the thing with manga, there’s all kinds of genres-- you have your basic fighting shounen stuff, slice of life romance, sci-fi fighting robot things, and some neat LGBTQ stuff too.” Skylar rambled as she led them towards the corner of manga. The typical books were out on full display, Naruto, Bleach, Blue Exorcist, things like that. But, she’d never really been too interested in the big action kinds of things. “Mmm. If you liked Spirited Away, you’d probably like some of the other Hayao Miyazaki movies. I don’t know if they’d have it here, but he did a manga series for Nausicaa of the Valley of Wind. It’s worth checking out, either reading or watching.” She said with a nod. Focusing on the spines of the books in front of her, Skylar tilted her head as she mulled over the question. “I’ve been better.” She decided, as she pulled out one of the books from the shelf, looking over the cover for a moment. “But, I’m getting through things. One day at a time, you know? How about you?” She asked, turning to look at Morgan intently, “Are you doing okay?”

“Valley of the Wind?” Morgan repeated. “Sounds beautiful, just from the name.” She scanned the shelves, picking up pieces with artwork centered on magic, or gentle landscapes. Some of these seemed to just be about kids getting by, harmless trouble, and puttering along with ease. She could get on board with nestling up to one of those, if only to dream of everything being so easy. She looked sidelong at Skylar as she spoke. “Anything you feel like talking about?” She said, plucking up a book. “I can listen pretty good in person too, you know.” But of course, Skylar, sweet kid she was, wanted to know about her too. “I’m getting there. Pushing along, as we do. Still compiling information about my-- curse, thing. Knowledge really is power, but the picture it’s giving me isn’t a pretty one.”

“Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind,” Skylar said with a nod. “It’s a beautiful movie. It’s about a lot of different things, but I think it’s a story about the power of compassion.” She shrugged. The idea of facing adversity and suffering with kindness and understanding, it was… more applicable than she ever thought it would have been when she’d first watched the movie as a child. “Ah.” Biting the inside of her cheek, she shook her head. “Not really. Just, erm, trying to adjust. Still trying to deal with some of the, the fallout.” She said before turning her attention to the books. If she looked at the books, then Morgan wouldn’t see how watery her eyes were getting at just the thought of talking about her family right now. But, she couldn’t help but think about the lies, about her phone call to her mom, about how her phone calls never went through anymore. Skylar hummed, not entirely sure how to respond at first, “I’m sorry that it’s not going well. But… you’re one step closer to figuring things out, right?”

Morgan smiled, caught by the universe again, she thought. Compasion, kindness, suffering. She couldn’t seem to get away from those no matter what she told herself to the contrary. The people she met were too nice, too brave in the face of their suffering to be used or endangered recklessly. The longer she looked, the more imbalance she found, and there wasn’t enough energy or enough strength to hold or fix it all. If she could just get the shadow lifted from her shoulders, though, she could try. She could shove as many of them into her arms as possible. If she didn’t drown mysteriously in the river or get wrecked by a tornado or get trampled in the street or fall off a cliff like her ancestors had at various points in their cursed lives.

She caught the strain in Skylar’s voice and paused, looking over at her. “I’m sorry for you, too,” she said seriously. “They shouldn’t have lied.” She turned her attention back to the stacks, picking up another volume to look at later. They were trying to take a break, right? “And, uh, yeah I’m--building a timeline. I think it happened while my great-great grandmother was young. But the details are, it’s either in some record that didn’t know or care about any of them, or it’s some personal account that’s trying to put words to something you just can’t. You run out of ways to say your world broke, and why is this happening anyway? It’s endless. And you start to wonder if this is all just a bad trailer for the future, but--” She could deal. She would. She had to. “Knowledge is still power. I think that’s going to be true for both of us. So, found anything good?”

Eyes flitting over the covers of some of the manga, Skylar’s attention turned to an old classic. Neon Genesis Evangelion. Shinji, a character who’s entire purpose and abilities hinged upon something he feared and actively shied away from… A lump formed in the back of her throat. Mmm. There really was no getting away from things, was there? Swallowing, she met Morgan’s eyes for a brief moment as the woman spoke. “They shouldn’t have. But, they did. And now I’m trying to… deal with what it all means. It’s okay, though. I’ll be okay.” Skylar said with a timid smile. She’d told Remmy that it would be okay, she’d tried telling herself that it would be okay. But, the more and more she thought about it, how could things ever be okay? How could she ever be okay, when she wasn’t even human? She just… wanted to be normal.

Drawn out of her thoughts by Morgan’s own situation, Skylar focused in on the other woman’s words. A bad trailer for the future? “Morgan…” Reaching out, Skylar touched her shoulder gently, hoping that the gesture would provide some kind of comfort, “I’m sorry. You’ll find something, though. I know you will.” Clearing her throat, she slipped her hand back into the pocket of her jacket and shook her head. “Mm, not really. I’m kind of in a comic book mood. Have you ever read any comics?” She asked, leading the way towards the boxes of comic books, neatly organized and arranged.

Morgan instantly felt guilty for getting distracted enough to ramble to Skylar. This wasn’t hers to carry. Of course she wanted to, because she was kind and she knew, way too well, what it felt like to be alone, to feel outside of the world, to be the kind of tired that Morgan sometimes felt. Maybe that was why she’d slipped in the first place. She smiled with genuine softness at the girl’s gesture. “Thanks. And I’m still hopeful to, for the record. Things…aren’t always the way they should be, you know? But that doesn’t mean we give up. We owe it to ourselves to manifest the life we deserve, or at least, to try to, even if it’s an uphill climb.” But they would get there. Skylar would find her peace within herself, and Morgan would break her curse. They had to. What other options were there?

We owe it to ourselves to manifest the life we deserve. That was some deep stuff that Skylar really didn’t want to unpack right now. Because… what did she deserve? Her entire life, she’d been nothing but a burden on her family and now, the more of the truth she uncovered, the more she questioned things. “Mhm. We can’t give up.” She said with a nod. Even if she didn’t fully believe it, she had to try. Things would get better, they would. Walking over to the comic section of the store, she started going through some of the Marvel comics. Her fingers paused as she looked at the box labeled “X-men.” They were her favorite comic books, some of her favorite heroes came from those pages. Pulling one of the issues of the Astonishing X-men out of the box, she skimmed through the pages. The Hope Cure. Something that would cure the mutant, that would fix them. Make them human. “With curses, is there any tried and true method to breaking them? Or is it like a… case by case basis?”

Morgan leaned against the shelves and started poking through her small armload. Reading right to left was a heck of an adjustment. She didn’t notice Skylar’s attention wandering to the X-Men title, but listened and went on. “Oh, case by case, always,” she said. “Sometimes there’s something specific written into the spellcraft, and sometimes you can use one spell to undo another. There’s no one size fits all solution to anything. Mine’s complex enough that I can’t do anything without knowing what, exactly, was put into it. You can fall into some bad messes trying to put the wrong key in the wrong hole. It has to be done carefully.”

“Case by case.” Skylar echoed as she slid one of the comic books out of its protective sleeve and began to thumb through the issue. Her eyes fell on a particular speech bubble, a woman at a podium offering an answer, The mutant strain can be eliminated. Safely and irreversibly. There is such a thing as a second chance. A second chance. What she wouldn’t give for any kind of chance at a normal life. “How would one spell counteract another one? Wouldn’t that just make things worse?” She asked, still holding the open comic book. “That makes sense why you’re trying to sort everything out. It’s like… you need all the pieces of the puzzle before you can begin to put it together.” She said, hoping that the metaphor made sense. She wouldn’t pretend to understand any of this magic stuff, but this was the best way she could conceptualize any of this.

“Hm?” Morgan had been trying to work her way through a story about wolf siblings, but zoned out somewhere along recounting the various means of spell breaking. “Yeah, you need the whole picture, the history of the thing, and its intentions. If, say, your apartment was flooding from a leaky pipe, you could sop up the water in a room, but it wouldn’t be as helpful as finding the leak and fixing it. But, obviously, sometimes you really just need one room not flooded. A patch job is still a job. Not for me, but in general. And some spells were written just for, well, dispelling others. Voiding the bargain of another spell, basically.” She finally looked up enough to look at Skylar properly again. “Find anything interesting?”

Running her fingers along the panels of the comic book, Skylar mulled over Morgan’s words. If her situation could be compared to a leaking pipe, her entire apartment was underwater, all the pipes were burst, and she was just trying to keep afloat. But, if magic… if magic could do something about it, if a deal could be made, if something could be done to get rid of this… part of her. She was willing to try. “Is that another case by case situation? Or is it always a one-to-one kind of thing, like… if two people were cursed with a similar thing, would the same spell work on both of them? Or is the magic unique to the person and their situation? The, the intention?” Skylar asked, trying to use some of the wordage that Morgan had brought up. Slipping the comic back into its sleeve, Skylar shook her head. “Not really. Just an old issue I’ve read before.”

“Similar, not guaranteed; identical, yes,” Morgan said. She looked at Skylar thoughtfully, puzzled by her sudden interest in spellcraft. It was sweet, in its own way, trying to work her head around Morgan’s situation, even if she didn’t have the access to magic to do anything for her. “You don’t need to know all this stuff, though, okay? Magic is weird and complicated. There are so many pathways to achieve something, so many calculations, so much to balance--I could spend the rest of my life doing nothing else and still have more to learn at the end. It’s a lot, for anyone, and you already have so much, Skylar.” She smiled at the girl, touched by her efforts nonetheless. “But, if you’re that curious, I can try and explain the theory stuff to you. But, I’m still a way’s off from trying something big. Okay?”

Humming in understanding, Skylar’s eyebrows pinched together, brow furrowing. Mm. Maybe if she did research, if she tried to find other instances of things where people had been turned into animals and then cured-- Beauty and the Beast, Princess and the Frog, there had to be a grain of truth there, right? If Interview with A Vampire was real, there had to be something that could help her. “Hm?” Startled by Morgan’s gentle tone, Skylar blinked. Wait. She thought-- oh. “It’s okay, really. I want to know more about this. If I’m in this… I want to know as much as I can. And I want to help you, really.” She said. That part was true, she did want to help Morgan. She really did. The other woman’s situation was… awful. Tragic, even, in a way that she could never fully understand. So, if she could help Morgan while also getting some answers towards her own… cure, everyone would be a winner. Right? “Theory sounds good to me.” Skylar said with a nod.

But you aren’t in this, Skylar, Morgan thought. You can’t be. But the girl wouldn’t understand that, would she? She would see someone else hiding something, or pushing her away, and it wouldn’t matter that she was doing it to keep a cosmic target off her back, the fact of it would hurt enough. If Morgan were truly her mother’s daughter, she might withhold everything, even her support altogether. But she couldn’t do that now any more than she had been able to as a child. She knew the sting of being on the receiving end too intimately to stomach inflicting it. She’d find different lines to draw, and hopefully it would be enough. “Just the basics first, of course,” she clarified gently. “And--there’s other people in town, your age, who have a grip on the magic thing, at least broadly speaking. But, okay, there is one thing I can show you that pretty much applies across the board.” Morgan flushed as she took out her keys, sheepish even though Ruth was no longer looking over her shoulder. She snapped off one of the charms and dug for some pocket lint. “Magic wants to be balanced, it wants fair value in the universe. That’s not how things are all the time, obviously, but with magic--you can give--” she put the items on the pop socket on her phone and reached down into the universe, sighing with ease. The items clinked together, melded into a silver seal with a jacket like Skylar’s, melded again into a fifty cent piece, the kind Morgan had grown up coveting. “--and you can receive. Nothing is a waste, if you’re doing it right. Everything you’ve lost finds its way back somehow, even if it’s a little different.” She gestured again and returned the items back to their form. “And that, Skylar, is how I know we’re going to be okay.”

Taking in a breath to steady her nerves, Skylar nodded at the other woman’s words. “I’ve talked to a few of them--” She stopped herself, not wanting to out anyone without knowing if they’d told Morgan themselves. Rio had taken that away from her, she didn’t want to do that to anyone else. Instead, Skylar focused on the Morgan’s hand, at the charms on her key chain. Listening intently, she watched as the tiny objects that sat in her palm come together and formed a half dollar coin. Everything lost finds its way back, even if it’s a little different. Did that mean that… Was there a chance? That she could be normal, that she could just be… a human? Could magic help her? Looking over at Morgan, Skylar nodded, “We’re going to be okay.” She was going to be okay. One way or another, she would find a way to be okay again.

#p: morgan beck #p: thc #//lol this paras abbreviation is thc; unfortunately no weed is involved

8 notes · View notes

erikismybitch · 6 years ago

Text

Waiting In Vain: Chapter 14

Slow Burn.

Marleys phone was on Do Not Disturb while she was working . She was so tired of this App job , it was easy but rather nothing but an inconvenience. The money was good, but sitting in front of her computer couldn’t be all there was to her life. Where was her million dollar check for doing something extraordinary . Or even better , where was her savior to deliver her from the stress of work . Market didn’t want to do anything . Maybe lay outside by her pool, and have her servant fetch her a cold glass of lemonade and some weed. Only one percent of the world lived like that , so she had to work like everybody else . “Why in the hell wasnt I born rich?”

Growing bored , she picked up her phone . Marley tried not to make it a habit , because it was so destracting. Marley saw that she had four missed calls from Becky . She called her right away . Worried , because something must have happened. The time spaces were back to back . Becky answered right away .

“Girl!” She screamed as soon as the call came through .

“What happened !” Marley just knew it was bad news . That “girl” was too emphasized to be about something light weight.

“Your cousin is in some deep shit”

Marley took a breath , she thought someone had died or Pedro had done something crazy to her .

“Tiana?”

Tiana had made every Instagram blog headline. She and her NBA player boyfriend Terrell James had been involved in a scuffle . Marley read along to the link that Becky had sent her. In the article , sources said that Tiana and the player had been in a physically abusive relationship for months . Marley found humor in the word “sources”. She would bet that those so called friends she hung around were the sources . Last night , neighbors called the cops reporting a disturbance. A woman screaming. They both were arrested for domestic violence and possession of cocaine . The mugshot of Tiana almost made her drop her phone . Her lip was busted, hair was all over the place and she had a black eye . Terrell’s mug shot was there too , only he had minor bruises on his face . He looked more annoyed than anything .

“Even in the mugshot, she still managed to look pretty” Marley said over the phone.

“You can tell she’s high too, look at her eyes” Becky Commented . They were red and dismayed . And she gave a slight smile , like she was unaware of what was happening.

The two had been released on bail late last night . “I figured since Erik took you away from social media , you didn’t know” Becky stressed to her . It was true , the only active apps on Marleys phone were CNN, a few gaming apps, and tumblr . Other than that , she online shopped or watched YouTube. And she had never felt more free .

Marley was such a sweet girl . With all the bad that Tiana had done to her , she actually felt bad for her . Knowing that if the shoe was flipped, Tiana wouldn’t bat an eyelash. So when Becky had to hang up and tend to the bar , Marley gave her a call . Her finger hovered over Tianas number for a while . She didn’t know what the outcome would be, but it was worth a shot . It rang a few times, Marley thought she would get her voicemail before Tiana finally answered .

“Hello?”

Tianas voice didn’t even sound the same , it was low and dry. Marley froze at first . It had been a long time since they had spoken . She didn’t even have a plan of what to say .

“Hey, Tiana I-“

“You really have the fucking nerve to call me?” She interrupted.

“I know what happened with you, if you need somewhere to go, you can come here until you figure things out”

Tiana let out a malicious laugh , it made Marley’s skin crawl . She was being obnoxious now , Marley regretted reaching out to her almost instantly.

“I don’t need help ... I’m not like you” that tone had now become calm, it was eerie almost . Marley rejected the “I’m not you” comment and decided that she should hang up before things got too bad . Before she allowed Tiana to take her to a bad place .

“Searching for a place to live cause your dad hated you and your mom was too broke to afford good health care”

Marley’s heart began to pulsate. She could feel it in her chest and neck . The fury made her ears hot . She couldn’t even see straight or come up with the right words to say . Marley would never say anything so hurtful to anyone . But maybe it was time to start.

“Don’t ever talk about my mother” was all she could muster up right now. Over the phone , in person the result would be so much different. She kept rocking in her seat, her anxiety was flaring out of control.

“You think you can save me like my mom and I saved you ?”

Marley stood up from her kitchen stool . She paced across her kitchen . The distain for this girl made her eyes squint , as if Tiana was standing in front of her “Is that what you think , you and your fucked up mother saved me!?”

“Yeah , we saved you... you know you always need saving!”

“Your boyfriend must have punched you too hard, cause you’re talking crazy”

Marley had struck a nerve because Tiana went off the deep end. Calling her everything but a child of god . Marley took in everything Tiana threw in her face and sent it back even harder . The two were screaming so loud that they couldn’t even hear what the other was saying. If an onlooker saw them both , they couldn’t tell who was the fool. After a few more tired curse words , Tiana said something that made the conversation take a turn for the worst .

“Why are you so worried about my man when Trey had a baby by a white girl when y’all were together”

Marley knew Tiana wasn’t lying . That scene at the grocery store remained close in her mind . Seeing Trey with that woman , walking closely like that. And the precious little curly haired baby she was holding . Marley just knew to expect the worst .

“I knew already , I don’t care about Trey” Marley played pretend.

“He said he didn’t want a baby with you” Tiana made light of something Marley told her in confidence. She knew about the entire conversation between Marley and Trey the day she thought she was pregnant. “But who would you’re fucking trash , Marley” she laughed because she knew for a fact that Marley didn’t know and she would be hurt by the information . Marley was completely over her relationship with Trey, but betrayal hurt no matter the timeline.

“I’m trash , but the news says you’re a coke-head now”

“Watch your back little cousin” she threatened.

“Erik definitely watches that for me”

Tiana let out a high pitched scream followed by the beep of her line disconnecting. Marley was glad she did because she had been holding in a cry for too long. She hadn’t cried in a long time , and Tiana stirred up a lot of unresolved emotions . Especially her feelings about being left alone in this world without the love of her parents. She leaned down onto her counter and rested her face into her crossed arms . She cried for the little girl who had lost her mother at such an impressionable age . She cried for the little girl who just wanted her dad to love and see her for who she was . And that little girl who was neglected and mistreated instead of being protected .

Soon , she stopped . Giving herself the gift of a deep ass breath . Marley felt lighter , that was the only good that came from this . She ran some cold water over a kitchen towel and pressed it into her swollen eyes . Marley hated crying , not that she felt weak... it was just exhausting. It had been a while since she cried . Since she was a teen, her therapist told her that she needed to cry . Dr.Robinson said that if she didn’t releases all that bottled up emotion, she would explode . And he would feel very sorry for anyone who triggered Marley to that point .

“Was that Marley?”

Crystal rested along her black leather couch . It was outlined with gold trim, flashy just like her. She smoked her cigarette , then ashed it in the custom made C-shaped ash tray that someone gifted her for her fiftieth birthday . That was five years ago. Her daughter Tiana sat across from her , unbothered by the smoke . She had been inhaling it since she was born .

“Yes” Tiana replied. Crystal let out a “humph” and took another hit of her ciggarette . Her outfit was almost identical to her daughters . Tight and revealing, meaning she was definitely too old for it . But that never stopped her . Even her mind was just as young and childish .

Tiana grew up with different types of men running through her house . Crystal jumped from relation ship to relationship . Her breaking point was always money related . If you didn’t have the means to support her lifestyle and her daughter, she was done . Crystal was the younger sister of Marley’s father . She was the apple of his eye until he met Jaime, Marley’s mom. He fell in love with her and he changed. He was no longer that money hungry playboy , the man that taught Crystal everything she knew about life . He was now this laid back care free guy .

“You’re gonna’ name your daughter after a weed smoking singer ?” Crystal said on the day her brother told her Jaime was expecting. She feared that after this baby, he would really neglect her . Growing up without a father, he was all she had. And he did, up until Marley started grade school . That’s when Crystal introduced him to his now wife , one of her very good friends . That was the beginning of the down fall.

“She always thought she was better than you, just like her mom thought she was better than me.”

Tiana ran her fingers through her wavy hair . Hair that was the total opposite of her mother. Crystal strategically wanted it that way. She made sure she had gotten pregnant by a man who could deliver those qualities . Light skin, loose hair , societies definition of what was beautiful. Crystal wanted Tiana to have an easy life , and it seemed to be working up until this point.

When she was little Tiana came home with her first boy crush . Marley had just moved in too. Some little boy who lived in the neighborhood, Tiana couldn’t stop raving about him so Crystal let him come over . She was way too young to start dating, but Crystal thought it was cute . The three kids played in the backyard while Crystal smoked her cigarette and watched . The little boy was intrigued with Tiana at first , until he found something in common with Marley. Crystal watched how he drifted away from Tiana and put all his attention on Marley . Crystal didn’t like that , she didn’t like to see her baby sad. That was the first time she put the bug in her daughters ear . Telling her to keep her friends away from Marley , because she would try to steal them all. Just how she had done the little boy .

Then Marley turned fourteen . Crystal had a boyfriend named Marcus . A heavy dope dealer she met from around the way . He was her favorite, because he bought her everything , paid bills and even bought her a car . His light skin was a plus. Sometimes he would show up with gifts for the two girls . Crystal noticed how Marleys gifts were always slightly better than Tianas . Then , he stopped bringing Tiana gifts all together . When Crystal brought it up to him, he cursed her out and said he only did it because she didn’t have anybody . And if she didn’t like it, he would leave and take the car too. Crystal wasn’t missing out on that money train so she shut her mouth .

One night , Marley came home late after an unpleasant visit with her father . Crystal and Marcus were on the living room couch watching T.V. It was dark, but the light from the screen reflected through his eyes. Marcus watched her like prey as she walked past them. The way a dog eyed a piece of meat . The way a man looked at a woman he wanted to fuck. Crystal thought she was being paranoid, she tried to blame it on her wine but something wasn’t right .

Later that night , something had brought her out of her sleep. She felt on her left bed side and found it empty , Marcus was supposed to be there . He wasn’t in her bedroom bathroom because the lights were off and it was silent . So she got up to see if his car was outside . It was still in the drive way .

Crystal could hear the wooden floors creak in her hall way. This was a time when Marley slept in a room next to Tiana, before Crystal moved her down to the basement . So it was normal for one of the girls to walk around .

But that wasn’t the case this time. She found Marcus , standing in front of Marley’s bedroom door . It was cracked slightly . He just stood there , watching her sleep . Grunting slightly, ever so often.

Crystal watched for a long time, not quite sure if she would stop him if he went inside . She kept thinking about how life would be if she actually lost him. So she did nothing but go back to her room and act as if she saw nothing. Thankfully nothing more happened that night . But the very next day, she moved Marley down into the basement . Away from her man. It seemed to displease him. More and more he distanced himself from Crystal . Eventually Marcus left her , and she put the underlying blame on her innocent niece.

“That’s why I put her ass in the basement . So damn jealous and ungrateful ”

“She could never be me, no matter how hard she tried” Tiana said proudly . Her mom let out a laugh and a few loud coughs . And when they seized, she laughed again.

“Shut the hell up , T!” Her mother had the ability to be hot and cold all in one sitting . One second she could be laughing with you about something, then in an instant she’d turn. Her daughter was floored and quiet. “I can’t believe you let her take your man”

Crystal knew all about the situation with Marley and Erik. Some truth, and some lies. Tiana even told her about seeing them together at the fair . How they purposely “flaunted” and “boasted” on the fact that they were together . Nevertheless, Crystal saw it as a problem . Somehow storing up her own distain towards her niece . It was as if she lived it through her daughter.

“She didn’t take him from me !” Her mom was really starting to fuel the fire . Tiana had only been there because her mother bailed her out of jail and she needed a place to go for the night.

“Then what did she do?” Crystal continued to tease and manipulate her . “She was living off of you , and fucking your man at the same time”

“I swear Marley is fucking done!” She pleaded .

“She had the nerve to call and speak to you after what she did. Since when did you let girls like her look down on you . I bet they both laugh at you all the time”

“Mom, I loved him. She took that from me!” Tianas rage made her sob uncontrollably. She was falling right into Crystals bait.

“Don’t let her get away with that. You make her ass pay”

“Mom, I want to hurt her so bad!” Tianas slammed her fist into the coffee table . It cracked slightly, but her adrenaline caused her to feel no pain “Watch when I get my fucking hands on her!”

Crystal began to calm Tiana down, in her version of a motherly way . She shushed her, and wrapped her arms around her . Hot and cold . And when she felt that Tiana had contained herself, she got to the root of another issue.

“Tarell keeps calling me looking for you” Crystal was talking about Tianas boyfriend. Her daughter broke free from her arms and shook her head . Tarell was the last person she wanted to talk about .

“They’re playing the Warriors and he said he’d be flying home tomorrow” she continued.

“I can’t believe they let him play, after what he did to me last night” she pointed to her black eye. Crystal kissed her teeth and rolled her eyes.

“You need to call him” she was absolutely stern with her statement.

“Mommy he hit me” Tiana said in a voice that reminded Crystal of when she was a little girl . But she saw a grown woman, who was about to lose out on a good thing.

“Tarell is a millionaire , and if you stop with the damn drugs, you probably could get knocked up!”

“Look at my face!” Tiana couldn’t even cover these scars and bruises with makeup , like the ones before.

“That man can buy you a new face. And if he does it again make him buy you another one” Tiana pulled out her cellphone and dialed Tarells number with a shaky hand. “You better hurry up before Marley steals him too”

Crystal laughed , then walked to her kitchen to make herself a nice stiff drink.

(Sorry for typos)

183 notes · View notes

marisbugs · 7 years ago

Text

dare you (to let me go) | part 3

Arthur Shelby x Reader

Summary: It was just a game you’d been playing for years to no end. After all, you knew each other since forever – since, as you usually said, you happened to be dumb enough not to run away when you had the chance and got stuck with the Shelby family. playlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Timeline: season 1 – 2-ish.

Word Count: 5,274.

Warnings: Language.

It was well past midday when you found yourself engaged in the long-forgotten activities, running around the street, chasing John’s children and Finn who scattered in different directions, squeaking at the mere sight of you coming closer. They made it their life goal not to let you tag them, and they’d been doing a great job so far, moving like the swiftest horse in a stable, making you work for it, as you became short of breath gradually. Yet, you weren’t one to give up so easily.

Rapidly turning around once again to try to take them by surprise, you noticed Arthur watching you lot from the distance, with his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Even from afar, you could tell that he was smiling at you so you smiled back and waved, announcing that you needed a break. The kids gave dissatisfied cries of protest but calmed down quickly as Finn busied them with a game of pat-a-cake.

“How do you feel about helping me out?” You asked with a raise of your eyebrows once you approached him. “Someone needs to teach these kids not to mess with the most famous bulldogs of Small Heath.”

The fact that you still took great pride in that little achievement from your youth years always struck him as endearing, and he smiled broadly once again, shaking his head.

“I think I might be getting too old for this.”

“I’m having the world’s worst hangover, and I’m still in the groove,” you pointed out, crossing your arms, without a hint of false modesty. “So spare me a pity party, grandpa.”

He grunted but looked as if he may be swayed. It had been a long time since he played children’s games and it seemed even longer, but the sight had evoked fond memories of the past he didn’t mind recreating.

“Well, it’s not a kiss chase, but I guess it’ll do…”

“Oh my God,” you couldn’t help laughing at the memory which was as comical as it was embarrassing, “don’t even get me started.”

“Why? I thought you liked it.” He teased.

“You sure you’re not projecting?” You rolled your eyes. “Because I remember how you flapped when Mary from down the street tagged you. You wouldn’t shut up about it for days.”

He was glad he wasn’t eighteen or he just might have blushed. It would have been without doubt embarrassing and just what you wanted.

“Should I remind you of Eddie?” He enquired innocently, raising his eyebrows.

You stared at him blankly.

“We were dating.” Not that it ended on a particularly bright note, however, but that was beside the point.

“So? You started dating after the game.” He looked like he had caught you in some sort of a lie.

You threw your hands up in the air in mild irritation.

“It’s completely irrelevant!” Having decided to end this irksome walk down the memory lane, you hit his arm unexpectedly, shouting “tag, you’re it” before speeding off, alerting the kids on the way so that they could disperse all over the street, while Arthur did what he – among some other things he was not particularly proud of – did best and chased after you.

You had so much fun; it was like you came back in time and became those carefree children you once were, running around the streets of Small Heath, happy, your sides hurting from exercise and laughter. The little ones were on cloud nine, having not one but two adults engaged in their games, since they were usually left to entertain themselves.

“I’m sure you can catch me if you try a little harder, grandpa,” you sing-songed, grinning impishly, while briskly walking backwards, keeping a safe distance between you. The kids giggled. “Fuck!” You cursed loudly as you tripped over your own foot, falling onto a sharp stone that gouged a hole in both your stocking and your knee. Not to mention that you grazed your palms on the ground, and now it felt as if they were on fire. Just your luck. You inwardly cursed the clumsiness you seemed not to have been able to outgrow. You shot a quick glance at the stunned children who stared at you in shock; your vision was a bit blurred. “You haven’t heard auntie say anything, aye?”

They nodded obediently. Before you could muster the courage to stand up, knowing that any movement would bring additional pain, you were promptly lifted up, and a moment later you were clutching the lapels of Arthur’s jacket who had rushed towards you as soon as he saw you fall.

“There is a hole in your knee the size of a penny, and all you worry about is cursing in front of children?” He looked at you incredulously. “They’ve probably heard worse, you know.”

“Yeah, and Polly’s already whipped John’s arse for it, so I’m not eager to follow in his footsteps.” You wrinkled your nose and caught your breath when your raw skin came in contact with the fabric.

He chuckled, but his gaze remained worried and examining.

“We should take a look at those knees,” he suggested, and you nodded silent agreement.

Despite your insistence that a couple of scratches didn’t make you an invalid yet and that you could walk perfectly well, he carried you into the house and sat you on the table for better access to your injuries which now were at his eye level if he kneeled in front of you. Gingerly, he rolled down your cotton stockings, which were now irreversibly ruined with tear, dirt and blood, to inspect how much damage had been done. Just some weeks ago you were doing the same for him; now, it was only fitting that he should return the favour.

You faintly hissed, but you could tell that it probably looked worse than it really was. He, on the other hand, didn’t quite share your optimism.

“This one will scar,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows while lightly touching your knee near where a sharp bit of gravel had left a deep and uneven cut. “It needs to be cleaned and dressed. The other one looks fine.”

The news didn’t bother you. Unlike many, you didn’t mind scars. You had had your fair share of accidents to grow accustomed to them. At this point they acted as mildly annoying reminders of your general inelegance. You knew for sure that Arthur himself had quite a few. But then again, he was a man. Somehow, it made having scars more appropriate, and you wondered how strongly for whatever reason such things depended on a person’s sex.

“Do you have anything to disinfect it with?” you enquired, turning your head left and right to spot anything useful. He thought for a moment.

“I believe there should be a bottle of rum in my desk. Just give me a second.” It was going to hurt like hell, but you didn’t have much choice except bracing yourself for the inevitable.

Arthur came back with the bottle, the last few remnants of the alcohol sloshing in the bottom, and a bowl of water to clean the scrapes and the cut.

“I guess somebody must have raided my stash,” he announced peevishly, placing the bowl on the table beside you.

“It’s hardly a ‘stash’ when everyone knows where you keep it.” You smirked despite the burning in your knee. “And are you sure it wasn’t just you in your most forgetful disposition?”

“Contrary to what you might believe, I keep track of my alcohol consumption,” he deadpanned.

“Oh really?” You laughed, gesturing at the almost finished bottle with a wet piece of cloth you were washing your cuts and grazes with. “Surely looks like it. Anyway, this should be enough.”

“I reckon.” He nodded and opened the bottle. Despite a bothersome itch on your palms, you clenched onto the table top in anticipation of what was coming, and there it was a second later – an instant, sharp burn of alcohol meeting the raw flesh. You winced, panting deeply, and bit your lips bloody to prevent yourself from groaning. Not for the first time in your life, you wished you had a higher pain tolerance. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, softly blowing on the cut. He placed a calming hand to your white knuckles. “You all right?”

“Yeah.” Catching your breath, you tried to sound as nonchalant as possible and offered him a smile as a sign that you were doing just fine, given the circumstances. “I’ve had worse.”

“You’re telling me.” His lips twitched upwards at the corners as he looked up at you. “You were one fast but damn clumsy kid. Always wanted to keep up with us boys.”

“I did my best to keep your egos from overstretching.” The hint of a smile lingered on your face as you reminisced on the past memories. “Last time I got hurt playing a game, you were so damn angry,” you said then thoughtfully, furrowing your brow in slight puzzlement which came over you at the recollection.

His face clouded over as he thought back to the day you were referring to. The images in his head were still vivid as if it was yesterday.

“Because it was stupid,” was all he said. Such terseness was way more typical of a post-war Tommy and in Arthur’s case meant that something was stirring him up. He stood up and picked up the bottle, emptying the last drops on your scratched palms, which made you whimper with a twinge of pain. After that, he lowered it on the table and looked you up and down examiningly.

“It wasn’t exactly my fault,” you pointed out, bringing your hands to your mouth to blow on them to soothe the stinging feeling. “Those sacks of wool were sitting there forever.”

“Except for that day you decided to drop yourself on them.” His relaxed yet stern expression was deeply unsettling, and you felt the childish need to win the argument you had lost once already.

“As if you haven’t done anything stupid for a dare,” you grumbled, dressing the cut before pulling up the stockings. The way he had hauled you over the coals bothered you to that day even though you’d remembered it now by pure chance.

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair in an unconscious gesture.

“I do stupid things every day. It doesn’t mean you should too.”

“I thought we’d already cleared it up that you can’t tell me what to do.” It sounded way harsher than you intended, and you immediately regretted it, wishing that you had bitten your tongue. Still, you meant it; you were free to make any choice possible whether he or anybody else liked it or not.

“I’m yet to meet anyone who bloody can,” he grunted, then stared at you for several long moments, contemplating. He spoke slowly, weighing his words. “I was so fucking mad that day because it was the first time I’d come near to losing someone since mum died.” He chewed on his cheek, uncomfortable with his unplanned confession. It wasn’t something he spoke of freely: it was too much too handle and revealed more than he’d like. “I didn’t mean to lash out at you the way I did. It was just that… You didn’t even think about it. You just jumped.” He looked bewildered; he still couldn’t understand what had got into you. Granted, you were bold but never reckless. “You could have died.”

Your expression drastically changed into one of sorrow, and you mentally kicked yourself for not putting it together sooner. You must definitely be thick, and now you were feeling guilty as hell.

“But I didn’t,” you reminded him in a soft voice and cautiously slid off the table, trying not to bend your knee so that you wouldn’t mess up the bandage. He moved to help you, but, with a wave, you indicated that it was all right, so he just shifted in an ungainly manner and stayed where he was.

“You could have,” he repeated with conviction, probably because he didn’t quite know what else to say and not saying anything at all felt too awkward after such a rare instance of emotional honesty.

It took you several seconds longer to close the short distance between you as you were moving slower than usual, but you managed and looked up at him with a warm little smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“I know it was stupid, and I shouldn’t have done it, and Peter could have just shoved it – bold of him to assume that I would back out just because I’m a girl, by the way,” you rapidly uttered, rolling your eyes in revived annoyance. “But you know what? I was never afraid of anything when you were around.” You traced an almost healed cut under his eye with a light touch and broadened your smile as you let your hand linger on his cheek. “It hasn’t changed.”

He swallowed.

“You’re putting too much faith in me.”

He didn’t forget how helpless he felt then, the thought of you dying on his watch made his blood chill, filling him with dread he would have liked not to experience ever again but somehow seemed to be almost constantly forced to since everything went to shit both in the country and in the family. He wasn’t a feeble man by nature; he had just been feeling more and more useless lately. He didn’t see how he could possibly save anyone if he was doing such a miserable job for himself.

As he wouldn’t meet your gaze, you tilted your head a bit and lifted his chin with your free hand. He reluctantly locked his eyes with yours, and all you could see there was confusion, struggle and somewhat too much like despair.

Your heart ached.

“You have never let me down,” you said, and so did his.

He would have laughed at the bitter irony if he didn’t think that you might just punch him in the face.

“Now that most definitely can’t be the truth,” he chuckled.

“Are you accusing me of lying?” You raised your eyebrows, smiling that damned smile of yours that did unspeakable things to his stomach, with you being none the wiser.

“No.” Thinking that perhaps he wouldn’t feel as if he was being gutted if he didn’t have to see you, he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. “Maybe you don’t know me like you think you do.”

Every now and then, he toyed with the idea of what might have been if it was actually meant to be.

“Maybe I just know you better than you know you.”

As your eyes met once again, it very much felt like it was. He placed his hands on your hips both to steady you just in case and to keep you close for a while longer.

The residual buzz in your head moved down to your stomach. An infinite number of possibilities flashed right before your eyes in a split second, causing an unprompted increase in your heart rate. And you didn’t even have to do anything except to lean just a bit forward…

“No, I won’t!”

“You will.”

“No!”

Katie stuck out her tongue at her brother who looked extremely distressed by whatever she must have told him before the kids barged into the house. You took a considerable step back promptly, turning your attention to the children and away from what it shouldn’t be focused on. You felt a faint blush creep up your cheeks.

“What’s the matter?” You asked firmly, trying to hide your embarrassment. Arthur rubbed his nose briefly before digging his hands in his pockets.

Little George ran to you and clutched your leg, which made you wince in pain. Puzzled and worried, you looked between him and Katie who was now sheepishly poking the wooden floor with her toe.

“I don’t want to become a midge,” he mumbled, with his face pressed into your ankle.

“What?” Your brows furrowed, and you glanced at Arthur who just shrugged, looking mildly amused.

The child sniffed.

“I swallowed a midge, and Katie said that now I’ll turn into one.” He sounded as if he was on the verge of crying. “But I didn’t mean to! I don’t want to!”

“Oh, George, you won’t turn into a midge.”

“Really?” Detaching himself from your leg, he looked up at you for confirmation, with his eyes full of hope and unspilt tears. You smiled.

“Really,” you assured him, tousling his hair. “It’s absolutely impossible no matter what Katie says.” You sent a strict look her way, and her gaze hit the floor. “You shouldn’t fool your brother like that. It isn’t nice.”

“Yes, Aunt Y/N,” she said. Then she risked a glance at you. “How’s your knee?”

“It’s fine, thank you.” You smiled widelier, touched by the child’s concern. “Your uncle helped me great deal. Soon, it’ll be as good as new.”

Katie nodded, and then both children disappeared into the street to join the others. You let out a loud sigh, watching them go, and raised your palm to your forehead.

“I have no idea how Polly even do that.”

“Do what?” Arthur had spoken for the first time since you were interrupted.

“Raising a second generation of Shelbys. I would have long gone off the rails by now.”

“Who says she hasn’t?” He joked, getting an elbow to his ribs from you as a warning to watch it, which he just shrugged off. “Anyway, it seems like you have a magic touch.”

“Oh please,” you scoffed in disbelief, but he knew he was right. Seeing you handling John’s children left no doubt in his mind that you could manage anything thrown your way.

It also made him wonder.

△ ▽

“I can’t believe you eloped.” You shook your head, bringing a cup of freshly brewed tea to your lips. “A little heads-up would’ve been nice.”

Ada laughed at that but gave you an apologetic look, placing her hands on her already protruding belly.

She had been hesitant to let you in at first, but you persisted in knocking, not showing any signs that you were about to give it up any time soon, so she had to give in or else you would have alarmed all the neighbours. You told her that you’d got the address from Polly and swore that her brothers didn’t know where she lived now or that you were going to visit. That seemed to calm her enough to actually invite you for a cup of tea and an overdue girl’s chat.

“Sorry. Next time,” she joked, but then her face fell.

“Troubles in paradise?” You guessed.

She nodded.

“We kind of fell out,” she huffed. “And the fact that I’m getting as large as Charlie’s barge doesn’t make me feel any happier.”

“You’ll get there,” you tried to reassure her. “You love each other, don’t you?”

“Sometimes it’s hard to tell,” she grumbled. “But yeah, I believe we do.”

You smiled.

“Then you both and the baby will be just fine.”

Hugging her belly, she posed an unexpected question.

“Will you?”

“You know me.” You shrugged. “I’ll manage.”

Ada furrowed her brow in concentration and bit her lip.

“Thank you, by the way, for saying what you said to me then. At the time, it felt as if you were the only one who didn’t push me to make the decision they wanted and not the decision I needed.”

“I didn’t do anything,” you argued. “In the end, you figured it all out yourself.”

She shook her head.

“For a second there, Polly had me convinced it would be for the better.”

“Polly is a smart woman, but even she doesn’t know everything,” you said.

“I would have most likely gone with it if Freddie hadn’t shown up when he did.” Ada paused. Her bottom lip quivered, but she quickly pulled herself together. “Then I would have never been able to look him in the eye ever again.”

“So it’s Tommy who you need to thank then,” you pointed out with a small smile.

“Like hell,” she said with a snort of laughter. “He is the reason Freddie’s barely talking to me, and when he does, he calls me a fucking Shelby even though I’m a bloody Thorne now.”

“I’m sure he would be very pleased to hear that he doesn’t need to see you to get under your skin.” You laughed lightly as well. “He may be worried he’s losing his touch.”

Ada rolled her eyes.

“You’re so lucky you’re an only child you don’t even know it.”

That made you snort skeptically.

“Doesn’t actually feel like it. Since almost every man assumes your brothers will act like mybrothers and will cut them to pieces and throw them in the cut or something.” There was a time when that fact drove you up the wall, but you had long come to terms with it since then. Now you found it only slightly irritating – like an annoying itch that wouldn’t go away no matter what. “Most of the time, if I really want to have some action, I have to go to places where no one has heard of them. And nowadays, there aren’t so many here in Birmingham.”

“Now you know my pain.” She sighed, but then a smile beamed from her face. “So tell me how they are.”

You felt a smile tugging at your lips despite your will. Ada would never admit it, but she missed her family, and that was one of the reasons why you were actually here. Well, that and the fact that you missed her as well. After all, Ada was your friend too.

“Oh, same old, you know. Finn wants to be just like his brothers, which drives Pol crazy when Tommy doesn’t. John seems a bit troubled from time to time, but he lets on that everything’s all right, so it’s really hard to guess if something’s bothering him or if he’s just in low spirits. As for Tom – well, you know how he is now. Even Tommy doesn’t know what’s going on in Tommy’s head anymore.” You shrugged. Leaning forward with a mysterious smile on your lips, you dropped your voice like a conspirator sharing top secret information. “I think he may be in love.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Ada shrieked, giving you a skeptical look, but clapped her hands in excitement. “Who on earth with?”

“Grace the barmaid,” you said. “But these are only my speculations, nothing concrete there. Tommy’s hard to read, so it might just as well be what he claims it is, which is nothing.”

“But you don’t believe it,” she guessed.

“Well, he did change the topic all too swiftly when I tried to call him out the other night.” You laughed a short laugh, shaking your head a little. “You can imagine how well it went.”

Ada giggled.

“It’s about damn time,” she said. “If we’re lucky enough and he doesn’t screw this up, maybe he’ll stop being such a pain in the arse.” Then, seemingly having remembered something, she looked at you with a knowing smile. “I hear the boys have bought the Garrison, and someone’s got a generous offer.”

“Hell if I know how it happened,” you said with a laugh. “One minute I’m being scolded like a naughty child, and the next – promoted to a half-pub owner.”

“I know very well how,” she smirked. “The only surprise here is that Arthur didn’t pop the other question while he was at it.”

“Ada!” you exclaimed in amazement. You wondered if you’d ever hear the end of it.

“What?” she enquired, tilting her head in mock innocence.

You shot her a pointed stare.

“Stop it.”

“Sorry, I can’t,” she deadpanned. “I happen to have eyes and not to be a complete moron. You two, on the other hand…” She gave you a masterly eye-roll. “Helpless.” Her words had definitely irked you, and you sighed heavily, which prompted her to send you an almost pitying look. “Sometimes your total obliviousness just blows my mind.”

Dear Lord, not a repeat of your conversation with Polly.

“Okay, now that you’ve got it off your chest-” you rolled your eyes, not wishing to explore that topic any further- “Arthur’s actually been pretty much down in the mouth lately, not in the least because of your runaway wedding.”

“Oh please,” she said. “He’ll get over it.”

“Yes,” you nodded slowly, reflecting on the recent events. “I guess he’s been feeling cut-off from the family business since Tommy took over. Your wedding was just the last blow.”

The problem was that, as the oldest male, he was supposed to be in charge. Since that role had been assumed by Tommy, he felt that he had failed in fulfilling his duty in the eyes of society, his family and himself, and it took its toll on him, even though he was reluctant to admit it.

“Well, if they hadn’t been so fucking hostile to the idea from the start, things might have worked out differently,” she grumbled, lightly rubbing her temple. “Anyway, now he has the Garrison to distract himself with, so he’ll be fine in no time. He’s bloody Arthur. He always cools off before you know it.”

“Yeah,” you mused, “you’re probably right. And they don’t really have anything against Freddie, you know. I’d even say they respect him, even though every one of them would most likely die before they admit it.”

Knowing it to be true, Ada just snorted, rolling her eyes.

“The hell is she doing here?” Freddie’s voice snarled the words behind you, taking you by surprise.

You saw Ada visibly stiffen on the bed as she crossed her arms and sent such an icy stare at him that even Tommy could have envied her.

“By George, he speaks.”

Freddie paid no heed to the dangerous notes in his wife’s voice, which made you wonder whether he was very brave or just plain suicidal – provoking the infamous Shelby temper like that. After you had shaken off his startling entrance, you turned to face him.

“It’s good to see you too, Freddie,” you said casually, keeping your calm.

“Drop the pleasantries, Y/N.” He scowled. “Did Tommy send you?”

You rolled your eyes at yet one more expression of their new-found rivalry which you found quite funny, really, since you very well remembered the times when they were as thick as thieves.

“Not everything in the world revolves around fucking Tommy. Or you, for that matter.” You turned to Ada with a sort of apologetic look. “No offense.”

“None taken,” she said. If she was being fair, she agreed with you. Men tended to be blindly preoccupied with just themselves. It was bloody tiresome. “It may surprise you, Freddie, but she’s come to see me. Because that’s what bloody friends do. If you and Tommy still remember what this word even mean.” She glared daggers at him. “Don’t worry, no one knows this address except her and Pol.”

“No one? Really?” You couldn’t really blame him that he somehow found it hard to believe. In his line of work, one must always stay vigilant. You just wished the question of loyalty didn’t come between the newly-weds.

“Really. A woman’s entitled to her secrets.” He was still eyeing you suspiciously, so you threw your hands up in exasperation. “Ada, tell your husband to, please, dial down the paranoia and have a cup of tea.”

“For fuck’s sake, Freddie, just give it up.” She rolled her eyes. The pointless conversation had tired her out. “Y/N has never been anything but supportive, so there’s really no reason for you to give her shit.”

For the first time since he’d got home, Freddie really looked at his wife, and it seemed to have done wonders for his foul mood, as you watched his features soften and his posture relax. The tension eased with each passing second, and soon it felt like you were on a friendly footing once again.

“All right, all right, I’m sorry,” he conceded. “I might have overreacted.”

Ada and you exchanged looks which said what an understatement you thought it to be, but it was enough to content yourselves with.

“Who even invented families?” she wondered in mild annoyance, glancing at Freddie who busied himself with pouring the tea, and a warm smile lifted the corners of her mouth of its own accord.

He sat down on a chair beside the bed, with a cup in one hand. His other hand reached to stroke Ada’s belly.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” he said.

You watched them, with a tender feeling unfolding in your chest. And you knew that, against all the odds, they would be all right.

△ ▽

With a slight limp in your step, you were going down the street, meaning to come by the office to catch up on paperwork. Lost in thought, you weren’t really aware of your surroundings. The Thornes’ family dynamic had affected you in ways you hadn’t expected. They bickered and quarrelled, yet clearly loved each other. It was something you could strive for. Or maybe it was something that had been staring you in the face all along, but you chose to ignore it.

“It’s not safe to have your head in the clouds while crossing the street, Miss Y/L/N,” said a suave voice right behind you.

You narrowly avoided jumping out of your skin entirely for a second time that day. Turning on your heel, you, to your utmost surprise, came face to face with Inspector Campbell.

“Chief Inspector,” you breathed, looking him up and down. “I haven’t realised you had a chance to catch my name the other night at the pub.”

“Thanks to your… friend, I didn’t.” His lips twitched. “But, as you can guess, I have resources.” You nodded – mostly to yourself. You knew it was only a matter of time before he could figure out who you were; you only hoped that he wouldn’t be that interested in you since you were a woman, and women usually got dismissed and underestimated, especially by men in power. You must have really pushed his buttons then. “Going for a walk? Or maybe visiting a friend?”

You immediately tensed up at his seemingly casual enquires. Was he just poking around because you had rattled his cage or was he implying that he knew more than you wished him to?

“I’m going to work, actually,” you replied, trying to keep both your voice and expression neutral.

“In that case, I shouldn’t waste your time.” With his piercing gaze directed at you, you knew he had something else to say. “You have some dangerous friends for such a nice, young lady. Then again, taking into consideration the type of ladies they usually deal with, maybe you’re not that nice yourself.”

Internally cringing at his unsubtle remark, you squinted your eyes at him, wishing nothing more than to hit the man.

“Are you always prying into the personal affairs of people you’ve just met, or is this little chat, in fact, an interrogation?”

“My bad,” he apologized, although a derisive twist of his mouth told you another story. “Frankness and nosiness come with the job.” He doffed his hat. “Have a good day,” said he and was gone.

You waited till he was out of sight and slapped your forehead. It sickened you to think that Freddie might have been right to worry about your visit.

TAGS (OPEN): @crldrr

(gif’s not mine)

#peaky blinders imagine #arthur shelby imagine #arthur shelby x reader #peaky blinders #arthur shelby #ada shelby #freddie thorne #ada x freddie #inspector campbell #chester campbell #dare you series #trololonasty writes #i messed a few things up timeline wise #mostly canon compliant #not sure i like it and no idea where this is going #but it's going somewhere so hold on to your hats

36 notes · View notes

thezodiaczone · 7 years ago

Text

March Forecast for Pisces

You’re back! The Sun is in Pisces until March 20, meaning it’s birthday season for you. Your annual solar return should rev up your energy and personal passions—and you’ll be glad to have this extra fuel to get through what promises to be another busy month. Like January, March is bookended by TWO full moons, both in the committed-partnership zones of your chart. This could bring potent turning points to your relationships. And two planets, Mercury and Jupiter, will slow down into retrograde motion, which could churn up chaos and send out mixed signals.

If you’ve been reeling from the eclipses on January 31 and February 15, March can help you start to make sense of it all. This year has sent most of us off to the races. And with these eclipses activating your houses of work, health and spirituality, you’ve probably got a lot of irons in the fire. There haven’t been many quiet moments to work through all the energy that’s gotten stirred up. You KNOW it’s time for a change…but what, how, when and where?

Fortunately, March should provide some windows to reflect and integrate. And no need to do it alone! On March 1, a full moon in Virgo illuminates your seventh house of one-on-one partnerships. A dynamic duo that’s been heating up over the past six months could become official. Or, since full moons can also signify endings, you might decide to amicably part ways. From colleagues to S.O.s to best friends, this is a perfect moment to take inventory of your most important ties and get back in sync with each other.

A high-flying idea could get called in by air traffic control between March 10 and July 8, when expansive Jupiter turns retrograde in your visionary ninth house of travel, risk-taking and entrepreneurship. Jupiter has been in Scorpio since October 10, 2017, which kicked off an adventurous 13-month cycle that inspired you to throw caution to the wind. After a tough couple of years, it’s been awesome to feel so optimistic and open-hearted again. The ninth house is all about the big picture, and with Jupiter right at home here, you might have a world-changing idea or project that you’re feeling extra excited about.

But have you bitten off more than you can chew? If you’ve scattered your energy a little TOO far and wide, even in the name of fun, Jupiter’s backspin gives you a chance to pull back a little. Give some of your starry-eyed ideas a reality check, putting them into timelines and budgets. Or work on them in phases—better to scale down and test a project out first, which will give you a chance to tweak and perfect your formula.

If you’ve been traveling a lot, you might touch down at home base a bit more often. This is also a productive time for writers and students to finish a manuscript, complete coursework or brush up on technical skills. Don’t worry—there’s plenty more adventure ahead. Jupiter will stick around in Scorpio until November 8, so you can launch into the stratosphere again, and this time with a more realistic plan of action.

The March 17 Pisces new moon marks your personal new year, a day to set powerful intentions that you can manifest over the coming six months. This same day, energizer Mars leaves Sagittarius and your career sector, where it’s been heating up the action but also piling on the pressure. Some work-related burdens could lift, clearing the way for some exciting collaborations when Mars enters Capricorn and your teamwork sector from March 17 until May 16. The eleventh house rules technology, which could make you a social media superstar or a viral vlogging sensation.

You’ll be ready to roll up your sleeves and get productive on March 20, the day the Sun starts a monthlong trek through Aries and your second house of work, money and security. Some of the wild-hearted ideas you had during Pisces season might be worth building out now. Or maybe you’re just ready to get back into a grounded groove with routines, especially as spring arrives. Painting, planting, seasonal cleaning and decluttering: There’s a lot to take care of, and you’ve got the gusto to do it. You could become preoccupied with a major work or life improvement project. Plan, prioritize and break big tasks down into small steps. Less is more during this sensible solar cycle.

But careful how much you pile on your plate, Pisces. From March 22 to April 15, Mercury, the planet of communication, technology and travel, will be retrograde, wreaking havoc in all of these areas. Be vigilant with your budgeting and bills, as errors are more likely than usual. You could lock horns with a client or coworker, or just feel totally misunderstood at every turn. This retrograde can also shake your confidence, and old insecurities might creep up. Do your best to stick to habits and practices that help you feel grounded, even if you can only devote a few minutes each day to them.

March 31 brings a moment of intensity to polish off the month. The Libra full moon beams into your eighth house of intimacy, joint ventures, sex and power. Whew! Some deeply buried emotions might come rushing out today. La luna could drop your guard and inspired you to get vulnerable with one special person. Can they handle the truth—and can YOU deal with being so transparent? Jealousy, trust issues and an all-around sense of intrigue could permeate the air under these penetrating moonbeams.

A simmering, soulmate-level attraction could consummate. This full moon could be a shedding of metaphorical skins, a moment of transformation when you release any energies that are holding you back. But you may crave privacy now as you go into the cocoon—it could take until next month’s full moon, at the end of April, before you fully emerge a butterfly.

Love & Romance

March dangles a pair of delicious carrots, since the month is bookended with two full moons—illuminating your two relationship houses! On March 1, the lunar light powers up your seventh house of committed partnership. If you’ve been wondering “where is this going?” you could get a VERY clear answer in the coming two weeks. Of course, you don’t have to sit around passively waiting for a clue. Take the bull by the horns and initiate a talk—not with tears or ultimatums, but with a warm heart and a soft demeanor that encourage candid conversation.

Also on March 1, affectionate Venus in your sign glides into a harmonious angle with your co-ruler, magnanimous Jupiter, in fellow water sign Scorpio and your ninth house. If you’re unattached, you could meet someone when you’re a bit off the beaten path—or perhaps a person who themselves is from someplace far, far away. Or just get outdoors and do something active, like a trail hike or spring bike ride, where other interesting people might stop for small talk. Couples might take (or at least plan) a romantic vacation—half the fun is the fantasizing about it. The ninth house is a place of candor, so if there are some things that need to come out from under the carpet, grab a broom and make a clean sweep.

Venus stays in Pisces for the first six days of the month, churning up the warm-fuzzies. You’ll be magnetic and irresistible and TBH you’ll enjoy the attention. Then, from March 6 to 31, the love planet will sail through Aries and your grounded, productive second house. And since Mars is jetting through Sagittarius and your long-term plans zone until March 17, you could feel inspired to talk about a future together, or to set some lofty visions with your S.O.

You may feel the pull between stability and adventure on March 11, when Mars forms a supportive angle with wild-card Uranus in hot-blooded fire signs. But rather than impulsively do something you might regret—or not take ANY action—try to find a happy medium. Could you, for instance, have some flirty fun without crossing a line? Look at your own motivation, Pisces: That might help you stay in control of your behavior. (And definitely watch the drinking. Nothing makes a slope slipperier than alcohol.) Under this edgy energy, a work attraction could heat up. Pursue with caution, and make sure you can recite company policy chapter and verse before you go there.

The second full moon—in romantic Libra—lands in your erotic and seductive eighth house on March 31. This could bring big changes, including a turning point in a relationship. Lusty thoughts may crowd out reason, so before you get moonstruck, make sure you know what your heart truly desires!

Key Dates

March 13: Venus-Saturn Square It’s time to slip on the noise-reducing headphones and tune out what those so-called friends are saying. Isn’t this YOUR love life, Pisces? And where is it written that your entire crew and your love interest have to mesh? They just have to get along with YOU.

Money & Career

To the top! Go-getter Mars is in Sagittarius and your ambitious tenth house of career, success and professional acclaim until March 17. Since the red planet only visits every two years (it’s been here since January 26), you’ll want to lean all the way in during the first three weeks of March. A day that you’re totally on fire arrives March 11, when Mars forms an opportune trine to innovator Uranus in Aries and your second house of work and money. An out-of-the-box idea could be a surprising winner—and you may get the backing of a heavy-hitting decision maker today.

If you’re wondering “Should I share this out loud?” the answer is a resounding yes! While you might surprise a few of the stuffier types, even they might be impressed by your trailblazing ideas. But prepare in advance by having a solid plan, facts and figures to back it all up. While you may never need to whip out that Powerpoint pitch deck, it’s better to be safe. Searching for new income sources? Look beyond the familiar, Pisces. Opportunity could arrive out of left field, AND when you least expect it. Uranus rules technology, and one of your online connections could lead to a hot new client or business offer.

Look no further than your personal network from March 17 to May 16, when Mars blazes into Capricorn and your eleventh house of groups, friends and technology. Collaborations heat up, and your social media game is on-point. Word-of-mouth marketing could help spread your message and offerings like wildfire. Ask your people to tell their people, and be generous with your own reposts, giving props to online influencers YOU admire. No shame in being a fan—or reaching out with a well-crafted email or DM. But the best strategy is to do it the LinkedIn-style way, having mutual friends introduce you with a glowing testimonial.

Be proactive earlier in the month and back up your data, contacts and important work. Mercury, the ruler of technology, communication and travel, will turn retrograde in Aries and your work sector from March 22 to April 15. If you’re looking into a new laptop, printer or home office equipment, hold off until the second half of April—or purchase that extended warranty. Thanks to Mercury retrograde, that “refurbished iPhone” could turn out to be a lemon. With the quicksilver planet in your budgeting zone, this is a good time to pay off lingering bills, organize your finances and get your spending and saving plans in tiptop shape.

Key Dates

March 2: Mercury-Jupiter Trine Voice your truth! Take the filters off and speak from the heart. You’ll inspire people with your big ideas and grand vision.

Love Days: 25, 1 Money Days: 9, 19 Luck Days: 6, 17 Off Days: 27, 31

#pisces #Monthly Forecast #astrology #horoscope #zodiac #pisces monthly

30 notes · View notes

piperchu · 8 years ago

Text

Review of Glitchtale Love Part 2

First things first, @firstfandomfangirl and @utdork358, if you have not yet seen this thing. Go watch it. Now.

Alright, now that that’s out of the way, I’ll dive in. Spoilers below the cut.

Let me start off by saying that, no, I do not deny that this series has its faults. The logic and technicalities are flawed in many areas, and the animation is sub-par. That, and the fact that the creator willingly throws herself into drama and ends up creating more stress for herself, is why I don’t follow her blog. That being said, I do enjoy the story itself. I am entertained by the twists and turns, as long as they don’t defy logic. But Camila has been doing a little bit better with that lately.

But enough of that. On to the review. In all honesty, this is my favorite episode yet by far, and it’s not just because of Sans’ return. That was a plus, but that’s not the only reason I liked it.

One of my favorite things about this episode is that it really let Papyrus shine. Too often people portray him as stupid and over-confident, but that is actually not the case. While Sans is more on the logical, scientific side of intellect, Papyrus has a high level of emotional intelligence. And although idealistic, he’s not stupid in other areas. He knows when he faces you in the genocide route that he is probably going to die. Yet he does not fight, and doesn’t even protect himself. Because he thinks kindness, not violence, is the way to stop you. He risks his life for the slim chance to save yours, because he believes in you. Papyrus might just be the bravest fictional character I know of.

So I was very pleased with how accurately Cami portrayed Papyrus’ character. By refusing to fight his brother, he reached deep inside the hate zombie and helped him remember who he was. Papyrus’ brotherly love and compassion destroyed the hate that was consuming Sans’ soul.

The next thing about this episode that I liked was the vast improvement in animation quality. The characters’ movements were more natural. The close-ups on the faces were cleaner and more detailed than they have ever been. There was so much more effort in this than in any other episode. And this time, I didn’t watch many of the streams, so most of the episode had a better effect on me. There are still some problems with it, like the fact that you can easily tell that Cami still uses black and white shading and only lowers the opacity to various levels. This technique is okay to use when you’re doing a greyscale piece, but in works with color it is more visually pleasing to use colored shading.

Another aspect of the episode I liked was its ability to stir emotions and switch the mood of the scene very quickly. This is a quality you can find in most of the other episodes as well. It’s not a completely new thing in Glitchtale. But this episode, with the improved animation quality, was able to change the tone of the story and the emotion you are feeling in seconds, sometimes without dialogue. And with this episode, there were some times where I could tell she was going for a very specific feeling and nailed it using visuals alone.

Examples:

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY CHEEEEEEESEDOODLES

This was the moment when Frisk goes 1 to 1000 in seconds. Or 3 to 19, if you want to be literal here. Even if you take out Frisk’s dialogue box saying “I will kill you,” the effect is almost exactly the same. And with Glitchtale’s logic in mind, it makes sense. Even though Frisk reset the genocide path, they still killed everybody. It doesn’t matter that they never killed anyone in this timeline. LOVE is the measurement of someone’s capacity to hurt. Not how much they have hurt, although that is the most direct way of gaining it. As long as they can hurt that much, they technically still have that capacity. So Frisk, having taken advantage of the glitches many times before, did it again and accessed their genocide stats.

wAIT WAT SANS IS BACK

Just for the record, I knew this was going to happen as soon as Betty announced she was “calling for help.” And I love how even though it’s just a half circle in a sea of black, you know exactly what’s going on. A glowing blue eye with a pink center, combined with the fact that Betty took out a nearly empty monster soul and infused it with her Hate and Fear (and that’s not mentioning Frisk’s expression), tells you that there is only one person that this could be. And the fact that the first BWAH in Blood and Bone played the exact moment the eye opened solidified the mixed tone of horrified realization, shock, and dread.

wAIT HOLD ON THIS ISN’T WHAT I ASKED FOR

I pretty much knew that if anyone comes out of Kumu they would be a hate zombie. This entire scene was playing out exactly how I predicted.

But dang. This image was clearly going for a “nightmare” feeling, and it delivered. That’s what a nightmare often is, after all. The things you love are corrupted by the things you fear to make a terrifying combination. Cami went for creepy and succeeded.

SANS PLZ NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Seriously. Everything from his eyes to his smile is unnerving. Those aren’t Sans’ eyes. That’s not Sans’ grin. This is not Sans. This is Hate and Fear contained in an empty shell chosen by Betty because the person who lived in it was once a friend and thus had a better chance of breaking Frisk.

Piper.exe has stopped working due to brotherly love. Restart the program?

I could not have asked for more here. This is just the ending to the episode I needed. If there were not several different problems that still need to be resolved, this could actually work as the ending for the season. In fact, Betty using Sans to fight might actually have worked better in the finale. But that just means that there’s got to be a reason Cami made Sans come back (kind of) so soon. Obviously he’s going to play a larger role in the season now, though it’s still not clear what that role will be, whether he’s creating another problem in the sidelines or will eventually be an active influence on the plot.

Whatever the case, this is a beautiful ending to the “Sans is missing” sub-plot. His absence was tearing his family apart. Gaster became rash and angry out of grief. Papyrus found it much harder to stay strong for everybody. But now, Sans is back (mostly), and it looks like the family might be able to heal now.

Next reason: soundtrack. WOW. I mean, I listened to Blood and Bone before, but I kept wondering how it was going to be used. There was almost no doubt in my mind that it was going to be a battle, and that it would be near the end of the episode, and I was right, but I didn’t know what battle. I thought it fit the trailer really well. But I don’t think there could have been a better usage of it than that of the return of Sans as a zombie of Hate and Fear.

Well, I could make this longer, but it’s already REALLY long and I highly doubt anyone is going to read all of this. Oh well.

#glitchtale #glitchtale love review #glitchtale love part 2

675 notes · View notes

rvinsounds · 7 years ago

Text

-- half moon alternatively titled ‘the 5 times jess (kinda) broke up with saebom and the 1 time she didn’t’

a/n: this is the time for self-indulgent fics LOL. i think i said this was like, a timeline through the years so say the first fic is probably sometime during my last year @ hogwarts and it just continues from there :D

“isn’t this like, your seventh coffee today?”

jess glances over at her friend, and then glances down at the americano blanco that had just been delivered to her table. nadine had opted for an iced floral tea instead of coffee for once, and she shrugs, picking up the cup and taking a long sip. “ooh, this one is better than the last cafe. but the last cafe had a nicer .. what would you call it -- ambiance?”

“how have you not gone to the bathroom like twenty times since i joined you?”

“i have a magic bladder that is fueled by coffee.”

nadine rolls her eyes, sucking on the straw of her tea as they both swivel around in their seats to take multiple photos of the coffee shop they were currently sitting in. they had been cafe-hopping all afternoon, and apparently the younger girl had been doing it since before she had met up with the former gryffindor. it wasn’t exactly a strange thing -- not when they both had aesthetic instagram feeds that they needed to keep up with.

(megan and arazely would probably beg to differ.)

it wasn’t until a while later of them sitting there, silently musing over their drinks that nadine realizes that they were missing something -- or rather, someone.

“where’s saebom?”

jess barely glances up from her phone, in the middle of trying to take an aesthetic photo of her coffee, liking how the sunlight from the window reflected just so in the surface of the black coffee, answering after snapping a few more photos. “i broke up with him.”

”WHAT.”

the younger girl doesn’t answer, too busy taking pictures of her empty coffee cup before her phone is snatched out of her hand by the older. “hey!” she protests, reaching out and flailing slightly as she tries to get it back, pouting at her friend when it’s not handed back to her immediately.

“what do you mean you broke up with saebom?” nadine hisses, clutching both of their phones in one hand, glaring at the other girl.

“exactly that? i broke up with him,” jess waves a hand idly in the air, shrugging. “i’ll apologize after the next couple cafes -- he didn’t want me to go cafe hopping, okay? now, give me back my phone!”

her lunge at the older girl is stopped short when the bell above the door chimes and she pauses to glance over, always habit nowadays considering she was working part-time in a coffee shop as training for her to open her own cafe in the future. she almost physically has to stop herself from calling out a welcome greeting, but her words become stuck in her throat anyway when she sees who’s walking through the door.

megan.

sina.

saebom.

her boyfriend -- or rather, her ex-boyfriend at that exact moment -- looks absolutely miserable, and he was complaining quietly to megan about something when their eyes meet and he freezes, almost automatically slinking behind sina.

(she almost feels bad.)

megan, on the other hand, looks almost angry when she makes eye contact with the only current slytherin, stalking over immediately and taking jess’ hand and practically dragging her back towards the door so they could have a decently private conversation. or as private as it could be in a public place.

“what the fuck jess,” she mutters under her breath, meant only for her best friend to hear. “he’s been at our house moping for the past eight hours, why can’t you deal with your shit like a normal person instead of breaking his heart to go drink overly copious amounts of coffee?”

all jess can do is shrug a bit helplessly before she’s flung in the direction of her (ex?)boyfriend who, despite looking upset and a bit angry at her, catches her in his arms and glances down at her. bless his heart. she, rightfully so, looks sheepish as she smiles awkwardly up at him.

“hi ... sorry?” she apologizes, reaching up to touch his cheek where his dimple would show if he was smiling, and she does feel sorry for not having just come to a more logical way of doing this besides ending their relationship. her phone is slapped into her hand before she sees megan dragging nadine out of the coffee shop, sina making eye contact with her and mouthing ‘talk things out’ and raising his hands in a sort of ‘fighting!’ position before the bell above the door chimes once again, leaving her, mostly, alone with saebom.

“... okay, let’s talk.”

they’re sitting outside on the patio at a bar that she had gotten into using saebom’s name -- oh the irony is not lost on her, she knows -- along with her own. she hates that it usually works when their names are used in conjuncture, but only because he’s slightly more famous than she is. of course he is, considering he had started modelling when she was in her fourth year and she hadn’t started until after graduation. it’s understandable, but that doesn’t make her feel less bitter about it.

she takes another sip of her peach cocktail, squinting at it and attempting to fish out the maraschino cherry that was, for some reason, sitting at the bottom of the fancy glass.

arazely glances over at the older girl and watches in fond amusement as the now-former slytherin struggles to get the cherry out and ultimately gives up on it before taking another sip. it’s just the two of them for today, their older friends all busy with their lives and university and stuff and arazely’s just become legal a few weeks ago and jess has nothing better to do today, so it works out.

“how’s chanuk?” jess asks, for lack of a better subject and she’s probably depressed enough that listening to her friend’s happy tales of a good relationship might either cheer her up ... or perhaps depress her more.

she’s willing to take that gamble.

settling back with a newfound determination to fish the maraschino cherry out of her cocktail, jess puts on an expression that she hopes conveys her barely there interest in the conversation topic, despite it having been her who had brought it up. don’t get her wrong, she loves listening to those sorts of things usually, but right now she has too many things on her mind. she makes a soft sound after getting a hold of the cherry, and she grips at the stem as she uses that to attempt to stir the ice around in her drink.

she’s happy that her friends are happy, she thinks, watching as arazely’s face positively lights up when the younger girl talks about her boyfriend. last she had heard, they were planning a trip for the two of them once they both finished applying for jobs and, hopefully, landing them. or at least getting into healer training, in the case of the hufflepuff. her mind slides to her other friends in their little group -- megan and sinhwa are well on their way to getting married, she knows, considering she had helped the oldest hufflepuff look for rings on multiple occasions now, though she has no idea when exactly he’s planning to propose. she just knows it’ll be soon enough -- probably sooner than later, knowing him. minseok and nadine are abroad, or something, she knows her friends well enough and they were probably away for some quidditch game of minseok’s.

and then there was her.

ugh.

tuning back into the conversation at hand, jess just grins at her friend. “i hope you get accepted into healer training,” she says, hoping the younger girl wouldn’t notice that her attention had lapsed for a moment. as expected though, she does feel slightly better after listening to most of arazely’s tangent.

“how are you and saebom?”

jess winces, somehow not having been expecting her friend to turn the same topic of conversation back on her and she avoids the other girl’s gaze for a moment, eating the cherry in lieu of replying to that.

“uh,” she starts, unsure of how to start on that specific talk and she sighs, glancing at the hufflepuff after a moment and deciding to just get it over with, knowing she couldn’t avoid the topic without it coming off as extremely suspicious. “i broke up with him.”

“... again?”

“we had an argument okay! he was insisting i needed to not avoid specific conversations and i told him i didn’t have to listen to him and then i don’t know who started yelling first but i broke up with him and left,” she admits, and even to her it sounds stupid. it’s obvious that she’s in the wrong in this case, but she hadn’t wanted to admit it. she still doesn’t want to admit it. she sighs to herself before she pouts and downs the rest of her drink, picking up her phone to turn it on and holding up a hand to stop arazely from saying anything more.

“yeah yeah, i’ll call him right now.”

shit hits the fan and explodes like an erumpet horn when her secret gets out. it’s all over the newspapers and across the internet and she’s being shit-talked and trashed everywhere that she thinks it matters. her instagram comments are such a big mess that she has to disable them for the time being. it’s not like she had ever hidden it from the media, not actively, but she had never gone out of her way to tell people about it either.

“you’d think that people would understand that i use my normal face when i model after my fucking agency said so, hey?” she hisses, throwing yet another newspaper onto the table at her apartment, already ladled with many a newspaper and magazine, all accusing her of the same thing -- making herself prettier by unnatural means, as if people who did plastic surgery were natural either. “people get fucking photoshopped in every single fucking picture that’s ever posted anywhere and they decide to attack the metamorphagus for apparently changing her goddamn appearance.”

her friend just nods, having sat through different versions of this rant already and deciding to just let the former slytherin get it off her chest before trying to talk any sense into her.

“where’s saebom?” megan asks instead, changing the topic in hopes of cheering her friend up, but that seems to backfire when jess’ expression only darkens more, eyes narrowing.

“he was trying to help, or something, and held a press conference but now they’re even more on my ass saying i confunded him or some shit and just -- ugh.”

the former ravenclaw just stares at her friend, unsure of why the younger girl was so upset about that, when her boyfriend had just stepped out and stuck his neck out on the line to try to help her. usually the younger would be ranting at him and clinging onto him and denying that she was clinging at all. it was strange that he wasn’t here to comfort her, especially when this was such a big thing that would impact both of their lives, and perhaps even both of their careers. but it clicks at the look on the other’s face.

“jessica nguyen, what did you do?”

the former slytherin winces at the tone the older girl is using, and it’s a testimony to how often she gets called out like this by the other that she doesn’t even really pause to think before answering her. if anything, jess trusts megan’s advice over most people’s, considering they lived together for a long while before they had split off because megan decided to get married. “i might’ve ... broken up with him ...”

“jessica.”

“i��m sorry okay!” jess throws her hands up in defense, groaning and falling onto the couch in her apartment, curling up and hugging her legs to her chest as she stares at the blanket there, reaching out to touch it gently. saebom had given it to her because she had complained that her living room was too cold sometimes. “he was overwhelming me, i didn’t know what else to do!”

because, and only because, the blonde already looked downright miserable, megan held her tongue and sat down next to her, taking her hand. she didn’t even flinch, glancing away instead.

“he’s probably at my place again,” she says softly, standing and bringing jess to her feet as well, and she leans in to brush her off and smooth down her hair, considering she had been running her fingers through it in frustration just moments before when she was ranting.

“let’s go and talk to him.”

as predicted, her modelling career does end up in shambles for a while after the whole fiasco, but the bright side was that she had been planning to quit long before that had even happened. it was really just the final nail in the coffin at this point.

her true love, of course, had always been coffee. and will probably always be coffee. her cafe was well on its way, despite the last couple bumps in the road she had to deal with. the company she had originally been planning to order coffee beans from had hit a block when it came to discussing the last details with her, and as they were also the ones who were supposed to provide her espresso machines as well -- well, the easiest way to put it was that jess was hella stressed out these days.

after she and saebom had worked things out the last time, there had only really been smooth sailing ever since. she had finally started opening up to him about whatever problems she had instead of pushing him away and trying to deal with it by downing copious amounts of coffee and/or alcohol. it had helped their relationship greatly when they both realized it would just work out much better for the two of them to just talk things out, instead of him going behind her back to do things that he wasn’t sure she would approve of and her pushing him away whenever she was stressed and bottling up her emotions.

but the stress was starting to get to her again. she had just had another deal with a different company fall through and was going through her current options: she could scrap the idea of using these ethical companies for coffee beans since they weren’t cooperating with her and buy beans from someone else, she could continue calling them and emailing them in hopes they would reply, she could probably also go knocking on their door and demand they respond to her ... she could also burn down their headquarters, but that wouldn’t solve anything besides perhaps sating her random pyro cravings.

she’s sitting in the front of her cafe by the counter, the chairs and tables having come in just a few days earlier and she has something in front of her that already resembles a cafe — just without espresso machines and actual coffee beans. staring at the papers spread across the counter in front of her, she groans softly and is in the middle of wondering if one could actually die from being too stressed, when the chime on her door goes off and she glances over, raising up half out of her seat, “sorry we’re not open for business yet —” when she catches sight of her boyfriend’s grinning, dimpled face.

“saebom!” she practically launches herself into his arms, so stressed out of her mind right now, she can’t help but want to relax with him, no matter what they do. they had recently moved into an apartment together, finally, but he had been away on a business trip for the past couple days that she hadn’t been able to tag along with.

in other words, she just really missed him.

“let’s go eat dinner,” he suggests, pressing a kiss to the top of her head when she doesn’t do anything besides try to burrow deeper into his chest, smiling to himself in the very blatant show of affection. she’s been much more affectionate with him in private as of late, and he’s unsure of why but he’s not going to complain. it’s reassuring, if anything.

jess agrees and she quickly packs up her stuff before they head out and she locks up the cafe for the rest of the night, thinking she would deal with it tomorrow. they head to one of their favorite restaurants, jess allowing her boyfriend to treat her to dinner for once.

they’re done their food and dessert and are outside walking hand in hand, just strolling along with no destination in mind, when he turns to her, and takes both of her hands in both of his.

“jessica,” saebom starts, and she stares up at him, confused as to what was going on before she sees him fumbling with something in his pocket, and before she can stop herself or think her decision through, it’s already been made for her.

“no —” she blurts out before she can’t stop herself from doing it, her eyes wide and she feels bad immediately when he pauses, hurt flashing across his face and his expression crumbles soon after. she knows she’s guessed correctly when his hand stops trying to find whatever was in his pocket, and her first reaction is to run. like she always says, despite always saying she wanted to fight, her fight or flight reaction is always to run as far as she can, but she knows she can’t do that.

not to him.

so when he moves to pull away, his hand letting go of hers before she reacts quickly enough, she grabs his hand and holds on tight.

he looks as surprised as she feels, and turns to glance at her, hope in his eyes, and she has to shake her head regretfully when their eyes meet, so as not to give him the wrong idea.

“i’m not ready to get married yet, not right now at least,” she tries to explain, taking his other hand once his expression isn’t so wary anymore. she knows she’s hurt him, and she hopes he won’t hold it against her. “my cafe is all i can focus on right now, bom-ah,” she says gently, squeezing his hands and she smiles a bit at him. “i can’t plan a wedding anytime soon, but that doesn’t mean i’m not in love with you, okay?

“in the future, but not right now. it’s just not the right time right now.”

—

it’s weird to think that all of their friends are engaged now, but they’re the only two that aren’t. her cafe had taken off once she had finally figured everything out and she had been busier than ever, trying to run it on her own before she finally had to cave — only once she had enough funds to do so, of course — and hire a proper baker and a manager and even a barista for her rare days off.

she had taken some days off, though. only because she had finally been able to and her staff had practically forced her to stop working herself to the bone, to accompany saebom to seoul for the fashion week there, since he was walking in a few of the bigger brands’ runway shows. it had been tiring, but in a different way than it had been when she was trying to open her cafe by the planned date. mostly because she had to speak korean more than she was used to, having learnt it because the company she modeled for a few years back had been headed in seoul, and she was rather rusty now.

thank god for saebom.

they were sitting on the couch in the almost-penthouse hotel room that his management had rented them, sipping on the champagne that had been a welcome gift from one of the clothing companies that saebom was walking for.

“it’s nice to be away from london sometimes, hey,” he breaks the silence and she hums in agreement, her legs stretched out over his lap and her head resting gently against his shoulder. she thinks that maybe she could’ve had this life as well, if only she hadn’t wanted the cafe more. it had been fun while it lasted, at least. she doesn’t regret it at all.

they clink their champagne glasses together as the television in front of them plays some reality show that neither of them are really paying attention to, jess’ eyes on her phone as she texts into her group chat that she has with arazely, megan and nadine. he’s not sure what’s happening that chat, but he doesn’t think he wants to know just in case they’re having another one of their ‘roast saebom’ conversations. he waits until she puts her phone down with a content sigh before he nudges her gently, wanting her full attention.

“what about now?” saebom asks softly, pressing a kiss to her lips before he pulls away, not wanting her to misunderstand what he’s asking.

(he, on the other hand, after discussing in detail with megan one day very soon after the first time, understands being the right person but asking at the wrong time now. he wants to ask again, knowing that they’re right for each other but it might still not be the right time yet, and he doesn’t want to pressure her or anything.)

“what about now?” jess replies, a bit sleepy from the champagne and the time change and she glances up at him with a concerned expression on her face, unsure what he was asking her. he hadn’t given any context but he did that sometimes, and she raises her head from where it had been perched on his shoulder. “bom?” she prompts, nudging him gently and sneaking a kiss onto his cheek.

“... is it the right time now?”

she pauses, taking a moment to consider what he had just asked her before it clicks. the wording is familiar enough that it doesn’t take her very long to realize he’s quoting her words back at her and she makes a soft sound, moving to straighten up but he shakes his head and tugs her back against his side.

“it’s okay if it’s not,” he reassures her, a smile on his lips and she relaxes when he doesn’t seem angry or annoyed. “i was just wondering,” he adds, tugging her closer and she changes her position and shifts to curl into him instead, tucking herself cozily under his arm.

“not right now,” she acquiesces a lot later, when they’re in bed, curled up close together with the light of the moon shining in through the window that they forgot to draw the blinds over, and are too lazy to do so now that they’re in bed and comfortable. he’s shirtless because she stole his shirt off his body to wear, just like old times. “soon though, i promise.”

—

they’re at nadine’s and minseok’s rehearsal dinner for their wedding, but their seats are set slightly apart from the head table because of the lack of space compared to the actual venue they would be in eventually. the food is soon to come out and everyone, as per usual, is at varying degrees of sobriety already. she makes a soft sound as she gazes up at nadine, watching as the older girl talks with her soon-to-be husband.

it’s nice, she thinks, seeing them that happy. it’s the same way she feels when she sees megan and sina together nowadays as well, wondering if she’ll feel the same way if they were to put an official official label on them. she makes a soft sound, watching as nadine plops herself into minseok’s lap, obviously tipsy.

they’re cute and it makes her feel happy, glad that they were tying the knot finally. soon.

leaning against her own boyfriend, jess glances up at saebom with a fond smile on her face. “they’re so happy, hey?” she murmurs, reaching out to pick up her cup of crown and coke and taking a long sip.

“bommie, lets get married,” she says softly, not really realizing she had said it out loud and not realizing he’s frozen beside her as she watches minseok stare in their direction and she raises an eyebrow as she sees nadine protest at her fiancé.

“hey bom!” she glances back at minseok when she hears his voice and then glances at her boyfriend who looks completely frozen in his spot, “looks like you’ve just seen a ghost?”

“jess just said she wants to get married,” she hears him whisper, and because everyone had shut up at minseok calling out, so does everyone else. it’s completely silent and most of the people there knew how heavy that statement was. everyone in their friendship group, at least, knew she had turned him down the first time, and a select few knew about the second. “she wants to get married.”

there’s a split second where no one reacts as everyone stares at them, and she’s kind of in shock because she hadn’t realized she had said it out loud either.

“then why aren’t you down on one knee?”

she doesn’t even have time to process who had yelled that — she’ll later pinpoint that it had definitely been megan who had done it — because next to her, saebom has jumped up and pulled out the ring case from his pocket.

and in the next moment, he’s down on one knee in front of her, holding the ring up. it’s completely silent around them, as if everyone was holding their breath in anticipation.

as if there would ever be a different outcome when she was the one who had suggested it first this time around.

“will you marry me?”

there’s no chance for her to even answer, because apparently everyone already knows what its going to be this time. there’s a chorus of shrieks, probably from a tipsy nadine, joined by arazely and then megan soon after. or, that’s what she would figure out if she wasn’t staring down at her boyfriend -- fiance? -- in awe, nodding numbly, mutely, and watching as he finally was allowed to slide the ring onto her finger.

it’s beautiful, as expected, and she’s sure all of her friends probably had a say in which one he chose, and she wouldn’t even put it past him if he had chosen to get it custom made. it glitters prettily in the light shining down on them, and jess stares at the ring on her finger as if she can’t believe it still, still sort of shocked into silence at the sudden turn of events.

(she’ll feel bad later that she had done it at nadine’s wedding rehearsal dinner but the older girl reassures her again and again that it was totally fine.)

nadine yells for a photographer, trying to rearrange the rehearsal dinner into an engagement party for them instead, but all jess can see is the blinding smile on saebom’s face as he stands, before she throws herself at him, her arms winding around his waist, sniffling slightly.

thank merlin for makeup setting charms, honestly.

#!drabble #otp:black coffee never tasted so sweet #this is almost 5k words of pure self indulgent trash #i hate it #thanks! i hate it #did u see my reference to mei's fic AND nadine's fic #i'm amazing #sdbjhdsbvfhbfsdf jk lmao #!wc:4563

2 notes · View notes