#I haven’t got any motivation to draw up anything for your questions | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the25thviolence · 1 year

Text

Writer Interview Thing

So this weekend I--- Lets roll this back a tad. So the beginning of this week I got super motivated to be creative but I work 4 day weeks of 10 hour shifts. So I didn’t really time to do anything till now. I want to finish 3 bits of writing this weekend and this is one of them.

1. When did you start writing?

Actually writing in this form? I’m not sure honestly. I remember as like a teen writing poetry a little and writing my mom like a nice mothers day poem I made up. She was convinced I took it from somewhere.

Early writing was based on just too many feelings and or emotions inside of me and just needing a release. Writing after that was because I could write to someone I cared about. Which led to the early stages of this kind of writing.

I actually pushed more into this because way back in the day when people rode around on dinosaurs a guy found some of my very first stories on a blog website. He thought they were funny which is why some of my stories are the way they are today. He also hosted my original website and writing for a few years back than.

2. Favorite story you’ve written?

As the person who picked most these questions I don’t know why I fucking picked this one.

I’m not sure, I really enjoyed writing the Summer Time Madness part with (Captain) Sean and the Kraken. I have a huge soft spot for any part of a story where I use the ocean as symbolism for washing someone away.

3. Favorite character?

I don’t think I remember all my characters to be honest. It would be an insult to my own creation to not say Sean and the Girl/Princess/Ashley. They’ve been in my head for over a decade now.

Currently I really do enjoy Claire and the Baristas though.

4. Best hidden message in a story you’ve written?

Hidden seems to be an abstract thought to me. When I feel something is hidden it is apparently very obvious. And when I feel something is obvious it is not noticed at all. I think for now my favorite hidden.... You know I haven’t really fleshed this part out, written it, or come to a concrete thought on the matter. But a certain character mite have connections to the girl from the star character from a very old story of mine. Well Claire mite have that connection. I’m not sure yet. But the stars themselves mite be coming back to my stories.

5. Why so many spelling and grammer errors?

Short, because I can.

Long, hmmmm. I didn’t like grow up smart. I didn’t really start reading till like the 4th grade but than by the 5th grade I was devouring books. Do to many personal issues in life (people dying and being extremely poor etc) I didn’t really try to do anything in school. I graduated high school with one of the lowest possible GPAs because I thought I was going work at mcdonalds after I graduated. Turns out I was so poor the government gave me money for college and I was able to attend community college and get an associates for free because of that. The only and most depressing silver lining to having a parent die when your 12 years old.

Basically I have no real education on the matter of writing.

Also I can’t draw for shit.

I can’t sing or make music for shit.

I can’t paint.

I can write, anyone can write. I view writing much like someone would view painting. Each word but a stroke on the canvas. And every error or mistake but a drop of paint misplaced. Now apart of something greater and beyond my control.

I know its wrong but I heavily prefer my writing be a one shot. Written once and released into the world. I have slowly, very slowly, come to terms with editing and proof reading and all that nerd shit. Its a process I am still heavily refusing to this day.

Yes, grammer is spelt wrong on purpose you heathens.

6. Any sneak peaks or future plans for writing?

Hmm

If the Moon can be apart of the story.

A vessel of power.

A weapon.

A dramatic bit of symbolism.

What of the sun than?

7. Can you explain “The Void” and “Post Void”?

Many parts of my life have shoved there whole hand into my chest and squeezed. Every time it happens it feels worse than the time before. I would call my high school years a void and everything after a post void. I would call some years after losing someone I cared about in my twenties a void than post void. And this rehash of loving people and losing people another void than post void. Depression is crippling. Depression has ruined every single tooth inside my mouth. To the scars on my body to the tattoo on my wrist.

Simply a void is when life wraps its cold star ridden hands around my neck and holds me still till I either die or stand back up.

And post void is everything that happens after. Consequences and all. Standing back up always comes at a price and I pay it greedily each time.

8. Does anyone in your family know that you write?

No? I guess some know I scribbled at one point as a hobby. But no one for sure knows about Once Was A Stranger.

If anyone is curious as to why. I don’t trust my family with the deep bits of my existence. As the youngest of 6 kids nothing I do will ever have a strong meaning.

9. “Why am I not a main character?”

I can’t tell if this a question from my good friend twchh or from Sean himself. Sir, I could never capture your essence in simple words. God could give me the canopy of the night sky and I still wouldn’t be able to put you into mere words with all that space.

10. “How much of Once Was A Stranger is actually inspired by/based on reality and how much of it is me misreading it as that.”

Warning: A friend/peer/tortured proof reader asked me this question so I up chucked a metric ton of words on the subject. This is the last question here and its full of non-organized words.

This is going to be a really really really long answer and I will try my best to make it as coherent as possible. I’ve reread this story multiple times to better answer this.

Its so hard to explain everything without shoving 86 links with 86 different stories down your throat. Once Was A Stranger was every bit of writing I ever tried to write in my life. I was finally able to reign in my scatter brain and write a complete story in the style I desired. I have some small regrets still on some parts. I had really big expectations for the market scene where the Stranger gives his big speech. I tried for a really long time to write that part and just couldn’t do it. Which is why the scene is so.... off center and cuts off. It works just well enough to fit its role in the story but I wanted so much more from that section of the story.

I am already off track.

I’ll start with the characters.

Sean

Sean for all intensive purposes is my first character. Like my first character ever. Sean is a major carry over from my first stories I’ve written. Why the name? Because I liked it. Sometimes it reminds me of the Shawn meme from that one video game (SHAWN!). Sean’s shtick is that he was a thought, a happy little day dream, a fantasy trapped in some girls head. And he was used by the girl to make herself happy. But one day he started slowly growing free will and becoming alive. He would turn against the girl in her dreams trying to escape. The girl would often “reset” him back to a basic little fantasy but suddenly it didn’t work. I never finished this story, I knew how it was going to end, but I never finished it.

Princess

Princess is just the---the girl---every single girl from every story. Most precisely the girl from Beads that used Sean as an escape inside her own head. I used to know a person a lifetime ago. A very very very long lifetime ago. This character was based off of them and the relationship I had with them.

Jim

Now this one is funny. While rereading the story I didn’t realize that this mite be read as a problematic name for people who knew me. I’m not sure if this was a separate story or a part of Beads (Beads was my first too much for me to handle large scale failed story attempt).

But Jim is named after an old one off character. His full name was Jim the goldfish. Jim the goldfish lived on an alien planet full of goldfish. Jim’s wife left him and he was drafted into the army to fight in non copyright infringing battle suits (much like gundams but totally not gundams). In this story the ruling class, the Kardashians (yes, those ones) were battling revolutionaries to keep there power. They got this power by abusing the exchange rates between there planet and earth. And they used that money to get amazing plastic surgery and become famous on earth. The “Sean” character, a guy in a pair of white nikes drifting thru space (was and still am a huge kid cudi fan) was drifting past this scene in the story.

Stranger

Once Was A Stranger. Not much in the story really takes inspiration from my life till the end. But the title. The act of writing this story. The life I breathed into it and the immortal bit of lightning it threw back at me. The title is very strongly based on events from my life. Thus he was titled. For he was a stranger. Much like myself.

List of all the references:

Stars: I have a great personal desire to escape life, all of it. And stars are about as far away as you can get. I once wrote a story about a fallen star who met a strange boy. Boy and girl. Sean and princess, etc. Boy obviously had problems at home. Girl was a star exploding with life not wanting to go back to the night sky. Not that bad of a story I think this still exists and is readable somewhere.

Succulent plants: A small reference to a person someone tried to make me friends with and the interaction of wanting to own plants but not being capable of keeping them alive so they were suggested to me. I thought they best fit the character for this story. Kind of like a foreshadow to Jim having a darker bit of torment inside of him.

The Actual Moon

Honestly, I have no real clue. I wanted something great to destroy. I have more to explore and write about in future stories so I won’t get into too much detail. Big kid cudi fan (man on the moon). Its in space and away from here. Big and bright and in the sky. Also completely crazy concept to try and fight it.

King/Princess/Royalty

The girl is referred to as Princess as like an emotional show of importance. The way the girl from the star story was a star. And in that same story her father was the morning star always searching for her till the last moment each morning. The princess had a king. Someone of authority who did not like the stranger. What? A girl with a father who didn’t like the boy. Crazy. That’s totally never happened to anyone before.

The napkins in the end scene.

Unicorn/Bear/Mysterious monster

These are all references to old bit of writing pieces or short stories I’ve written. Sean even notes his white sneakers aka the white nikes story. And this is all a deeper reference to the fact all those stories have long been deleted. I had a...

I had a.

A blackhole void consumed my life.

An irl friend had to come grab me out my house one day to make me move.

I deleted almost every single part of my online presence because of that.

Many references in Once Was A Stranger are from long deleted stories. I think I wanted to acknowledge them and pay my respects even though I was the one that deleted those stories.

Repeated phrases/bits

Because I find them entertaining and this was my story. The telling time by the stars or sun. Repeated phrases. Etc etc etc. My favorite part of Once Was A Stranger was slightly noting the writer was apparent to the characters. It wasn’t breaking the 4th wall in my opinion because the writer, myself, was in fact also a character in this story.

Sliding between Sean and Jim and different parts of the story

This was a major shoutout to Beads and to what that story could of been if I was a better writer at the time. To make it seem like the Princess was trapped between stories. A turn on the original Beads where Sean was strapped between stories.

Sean/Jim

Were they the same? Different sides of the same coin. Not to spoil future stories yet to be written too much. They represented the split between my long time main character. I’m not sure if there any really parallels between nice Jim becoming angry and angry Sean becoming nice. I think I was in too deep of an emotional space at the time of writing to really know.

Baristas

I have no idea. That just sprouted in my brain. They became apart of the story than proceeded to get there own “spinoff” story.

Late game writing

Yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yep

You read these parts

I guess I should spell this out.

Knife.

The void

This all hurts to talk about honestly.

I’ve been kicking the words for this around in my head lately. Hoping to write something that would relieve the pain a little.

I was in love with someone. It was unrequited. And it caused a forest of stars to sprout and take root in my heart. And it made someone very very very close to me hate me. Hate me so much. It felt like they stabbed me in my chest with a knife. Trying to kill the forest of stars inside my heart. To kill that love. That unrequited love. A deep bit of selfishness shared all around. All because we loved the same person.

As far as the story is concerned. Sean, The Stranger, twisted and turned. And now the knife was in there hand. New name and all.

The Ocean

As far back as Beads I have always used the ocean as a way to cleanse. Clean. Restart. Change. Give birth to. The ocean is as much life as it is monstrous and uncontrollable. The ocean cleansed this story and gave a rebirth to the boy and the girl. Or a death. They walked purposely into the open arms of the ocean.

Ashley

This is the shortest answer. Big fan of Halsey.

I’m not very good at putting things in order. Jesus H Christ that much is obvious. I hope they shined random bits of light on some things.

This is the end of this bit of writing. And I am completely open to follow up questions. I know only one person mite have them but you know how to contact me and scream insanity into my ear.

2 notes · View notes

vonkarma2 · 1 year

Note

9 13 & 19?

9. What is one of your character's theme songs?

Very difficult to pick just one this is so much pressure. Does anyone have like only one song associated with them like a side character or something. Ok I couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t embarrassing so Im dodging the question. To make up for it here’s a playlist I made of ed ideas like if it was an anime these could be the ending song. Or an ending song if it was the same as like dorohedoro where they had a bunch of different ones

13. Which OC do you make art/media with the most?

I think it’s actually Angel, like Rocio used to be the OC I drew by far the most but I actually think I draw Angel slightly more these days or at least like in terms of drawings that take more than 15 seconds. Probably bc there are more poses and outfits I can draw him in + expressions I can draw him with, whereas Rocio only does this 😐🧍and wears the same thing like every day of their life. But yeah he’s super fun to draw and I actually have written some things from his perspective as well which I also think is fun :) he has like a unique perspective like within the characters because of his personality and backstory. I feel like I haven’t shown like the negative sides or what he’s like enough so far though so I’m looking forward to doing that in the future

19. Who is your most recent OC?

So I think like I’m not going to count people as an oc if they don’t meet the qualifiers of

-Having a name -Having a solid defined storyline and/or personality -Having been drawn or written abt more than once By this metric I haven’t made any new ocs in a while 😔 I’ve done like character designs but none that have really stuck, probably because I like already have a lot of established ones that I’m focusing more on yk. Like there are a lot of storylines I already have, so I feel like a lot of dynamics + types of characters I find interesting are already covered, and I usually don’t really need to make new ones. Usually my motivation for trying to make new characters is like an aesthetic or tone I think would be interesting but that’s not really enough to base a whole character off of yk. I’d like to come up with more ocs bc I like designing characters but yeah I think I’d like to focus more on my older ones for now. Maybe I’ll try to come up with new like main ocs if/when I finish writing out their story. I feel like the side stories will be in minor character limbo forever bc I don’t really have a story with them and also bc I was picturing them as a comic or visual novel which I would never finish in a million years. Whereas I think I could eventually finish writing something yk.

But anyway time to actually answer the question <3. Actually now that I think abt it it’s probably Connor Armitage collab with @lycanthrology . Does he really count he like canonically exists (long story short he’s another character’s shitty absent father) but doesn’t ever appear or get directly mentioned or anything. Absolutely 0 relevance to the story at all. Also he might not count because Ive never drawn him + I don’t think anything had been written with him.

Before that it’d have to be Dominic Ortega from meat city which is also a collab with various people including @zipmode whose art you should check out <3 (the other people I’m not going to tag here because idk their usernames on this website). First and foremost he is a rabbit furry. But also he’s like an old man who used to be a lawyer but got incredibly tired of his life and so moved to meat city and became an evil wizard instead. Carnomancer specifically bc yk meat city. He likes creating monsters for fun and unleashing them among the populace also for fun, main goal is to escape boredom in life + find some kind of connection even (especially) if it’s negative. He used to have a sort of friend in thr form of James Bianco who was like. His Jesse Pinkman. But unfortunately he was accidentally killed horrifically, and Mr. Ortega’s (Im not on a first name basis with him it feels weird) attempt to resurrect him instead created a mindless zombie which eventually gained an entirely new intelligence. This person’s name is Rico theyre like their own character but the question didn’t ask to explain them as well so I’m not going to <3. But the two characters do interact I might give them like a goal they have to work together to accomplish that might be fun to write abt. But yeah he was created May 2022 so that’s when I have most recently made a new character.

#thanks for sending these :))#sorry I couldn’t think of anything for the first question #my ocs

4 notes · View notes

eldritchsurveys · 6 months

Text

1143.

November 2023 Survey by foxandforest

What is something you do to take care of another person (this can be as simple as sharing your Netflix account)? >> uhhhh .__. hm

Have you ever experienced something that some people who haven’t experienced it deny its existence, yet you KNOW it exists (e.g., lucid dreaming, ASMR, etc.)? >> most of the stuff that I Know about myself is stuff that is unquantifiable and therefore prone to others' scepticism. also I had no idea there were lucid dream sceptics but I guess there might as well be, huh. genuinely can't imagine a worldview where only the stuff that happens to me directly is possible and real

Have you ever had a moment where you were aware that you were the problem? Whether it was a sudden jolt or a long struggle of coming to terms with the fact that you needed to change. >> sure, I guess. I mean, I'm definitely not gonna take full responsibility for any of the bullshit that I've been involved in but I do recognise that in many situations it takes two to tango + trauma makes beasts of us all etc

What is something that a lot of people complain about but you actually enjoy? Can you see others’ criticisms as valid or do you have a totally different experience? >> a small sample of things I enjoy but I've heard a lot of complaints from others about: summer, mornings, questing in MMOs, having bugs/spiders in your house, and those recipe blogs with the stories before the recipe obviously anyone's criticism of a thing is their opinion and their opinion is allowed to exist. my experience of the thing is apparently different and that's fine. just leave me out of the complaint circle

Is there anything that you’ve been hearing about lately that’s piqued your curiosity? Whether by wanting to see what the hype is all about or clocking something new and upcoming. >> a mutual has been goin on about Alan Wake 2 which I know less than nothing about and I am curious but I have a weird mental block on lookin into it now for reasons that I would rather examine privately

If you needed to come up with an extra $500 per month for a bill, how would you do it (e.g., rearrange budget, pick up work, etc.)? >> I... literally couldn't. I would just lose access to the thing

Have you ever broken up with someone due to a belief you both wouldn’t compromise on (be it political opinions, other values or lifestyle goals such as travel or having children)? >> I don't think so

When was the last time you did something that required a degree of tenacity/noticeable assertiveness? >> whew

What is a trait that you have noticed in yourself that you’re not sure that you love, but you’re also not sure that you want to change? >> I don't always love my eleventy-billion protective mechanisms but I also think they exist for a reason and I don't want them to disappear, I don't want to be wide open for the entire world or anything. I just want them to be a little less hair-trigger and a little less hardcore

What is a fascinating article you've read or documentary/educational video/podcast you've seen recently? >> I just watched Like Stories of Old's new video which was about the Marvelisation of media, yknow, the same old shit everyone's been talkin about. but I like the way LSOO parses and talks about things, so

Do you keep track of your favorites across the year? What are some of the things you consistently loved this year? It could be anything from books to music to products to hobbies to topics/genres/themes, etc. >> I actually just started doin that this year because I got so tired of not remembering a single thing about myself or my tastes or things I've enjoyed, and I figured it was easier to just start making lists instead of beating myself up about it. the way this question is posed is making me draw a blank on how to answer it, though

When you find something you want to go out and do (an event or just going out for a treat), is it easy for you to find the motivation to go do it on your own or do you try to find someone else to encourage you to do it? >> I have no choice but to either motivate my own self to go or to just eat the consequence of not going and no the motivation is never easy for me to summon but all I can do is try and try again and see what happens each time

What is the last situation you can remember where you thought something was unfair to you or a loved one? .

What is something that you have a knack for or that comes effortlessly to you? Was it always like this? >> the English language, I guess. as in, I've never struggled with spelling, pronunciation, or style rules. I pick up on the rules of both Standard and Vernacular versions of English easily and I can switch between them fluidly. I have struggled with comprehension in the past especially as it relates to hyperlexia (I started reading very early and my reading level was always advanced, but being able to read doesn't always mean being able to comprehend -- unfortunately that's not a distinction the adults around me cared to recognise, probably because that would get in the way of treating me like a show pony) but that's about it, and obviously my comprehensive abilities improved with age

What is a quality that you have wanted in a partner or friend but never found? Do you still crave it or did it lose its importance? >> whoof. actually been coming to terms with the fact that I crave more than I thought I did, and now I have to contend with that because I can't suppress it and pretend my needs don't exist anymore. which doesn't feel great, because now I'm constantly aware of my constantly unmet needs. (which is why suppression and denial exists as a coping strategy in the first place! because this shit sucks!) one of the things I've never experienced in a relationship with another person is like... warmth. delight. enthusiasm about my existence, a strong expressed desire to be with me and explore life with me and connect deeply with me. not without a heavy transactional component (that I could never meet, because it was rigged), anyway. I don't even know how I would get this, because apparently either it's in short supply or I'm just not the kind of person capable of inspiring delight in people

Is there a confrontation (even a gentle calling out) you have imagined having with someone but more than likely you will let it go? >> that's me with Sparrow literally all the time. like why bother at this point, it is what it is

Could you see yourself realistically living in a different city than the one you live in now? Do you have any plans in the works to actually move there eventually? >> I constantly fantasise about living somewhere else. I don't want to live here, I've never wanted to live here, but we genuinely couldn't live the way we were living anymore and this was better than dying. when and whether I live somewhere else ever again is not up to me at this point, so, I don't know. I try not to think about it too deeply because life is hard enough and also because of the shame factor ("you should be grateful" "you want too much" etc)

#survey #random survey

1 note · View note

firesideme · 1 year

Text

Chapter Three

During class the next day, you make no attempt to appear interested in the teacher’s lecture, instead going through your notes and highlighting your best ideas. The time passes quickly this way, and by the time you’ve come up with several concept ideas for each song, the clock tower chimes to mark the arrival of midday. Is it really okay if I sit with them? you wonder, packing your materials into your bag, but with express permission from Yeosang, you muster the courage to do so.

But your courage only extends so far.

Since they aren't there yet when you arrive, you hide in the bathrooms until you suppose they must have had time to reach the canteen and sit down, unwilling to test whether they would be willing to gather around you at an empty table. You find them at the same table a few minutes later as you peek around the door, trading lunch items and desperately completing assignments before the break is over.

Yunho spots you first and to your surprise, waves you over and makes a space for you. Covering his mouth, half-full with lunch, he says, “Yeosang says he took you to our place?”

“What did you think?” Wooyoung adds excitedly.

“It was so cool,” you say. “Do you guys really practice there?”

“Well, Wooyoung goes off on his own sometimes,” Seongwha says. “The dance studio he’s part of doesn’t let non-members in.”

Mingi grunts. “And once he’s off in the city, he won’t have to keep practicing in a shitty factory. Ow!”

Wooyoung quirks an eyebrow, unapologetic for the kick he just landed against Mingi’s shin.

“You’re going to the city?” you ask. “How come?”

Some of the energy leaves Wooyoung’s eyes “I got an offer from a company to be a dancer. I haven’t said yes yet…”

Mingi scoffs again.

The mood threatens to turn sour until you blurt out, “I’ve been working on some ideas, do you want to see them?”

“Working hard already,” Hongjoong says, taking the notebook you hand him, “I like it.”

“Oh, this is good.” San taps the page. “The colors would fit perfectly. You really thought hard about it, didn’t you?”

His expression is so sincere that you’re forced to look away, muttering thanks. “Are we still going to meet there after school today?”

The group nods.

“Can you still make it?” Yeosang asks, and you almost laugh at the implication that you have anything better to do.

“Of course I can. I’m one hundred percent on board.”

“Hey, I just realized,” Hongjoong says, leaning across the table with a grin, “Mono is going to be our first real audience as a group.”

A ripple passes over them that you can’t distinguish between excitement or nerves.

“I’ll.. look forward to it.”

Sitting through your evening classes, you wonder if you’re more excited to see the performance than they are to give it. Due to that feeling, and the boredom of ignoring lessons you couldn’t understand anyway, you start thinking about how you’re going to start turning your ideas from words on a page to reality. You don’t really have any experience in this kind of thing, but it was the best offer you could make that you might actually have a shot at doing well. You’re going to need a sewing machine for starters, fabric, fastenings, jewelry, simple pieces of clothing that you can modify to save time, and you only have one idea where to get them.

Motivated by your desire to impress, you leave your seat, heading downstairs to the art classrooms. You choose one that isn’t being used, creeping through the door despite knowing that no one would question you too much anyway. Beyond the paint-stained tables and the canvases drying from the previous lesson, are cabinets and draws each labeled with what they contain. You help yourself to one of the large portfolio files and start loading it with anything you might need to realize the designs in your head. In your school bag, you shove as many rolls of sellotape, bottles of glue, needles and thread, and colored pens as it can physically hold. Then there's the sewing machine helpfully stored already in a box with a handle, the manual inside.

You wonder if you should feel guilty for taking these things without permission. A part of you does, but a stronger, larger part feels that this is the least you deserve for the treatment you’ve endured.

Before heading to your final destination, you stash your spoils in the art classroom for later. The custodian’s office is close to the front entrance of the school and when you knock on the door, an old man, wrinkled and browned by the town’s hot summers, looks you up and down.

“Yes?”

“Do you have any lost property, sir?”

“Who are you?”

“Mono. I’m a student.”

He blinks at you.

“Sir, please, could I see the lost property?”

He blinks again, turning inside his office to retrieve a large cardboard box. When he hands it to you, his wrinkled face is drawn into confusion. Before he can say anything, however, you take the box and thank him for his help. You go through it in the empty art classroom, disheartened by the lack of anything interesting- it’s all just gym uniforms and shirts.

Suddenly, an idea comes to you. You count ten white shirts, realizing that you could easily modify these to fit with several of your ideas, and start to get excited.

You spend the rest of the school day bent over your notes on one of the art classroom desks, planning and replanning your designs until something concrete emerges and you have the start of a plan. When the bell rings for the end of the day, you're sitting back in your chair, pleased with yourself.

The portfolio and boxes heavy in your arms, you rush to the shade of the tree you met Yeosang under the day before. The mysteries accumulating in your life finally feel far away enough not to matter.

“Ready to go?” Yeosang wheels his bike towards you and turns his head when he sees what you’re carrying. “What’s all this?”

“I thought I could get started on the costumes today,” you say, “although it might be a little awkward to carry everything over to the factory.”

“It’s no problem.” Yeosang takes the portfolio under one arm and balances the box of clothes on the saddle. “I’ll just walk today.”

“Sorry… I wasn’t thinking.”

He shakes his head and starts to move toward the gates. “The others will meet us there. Let’s go.”

Your pace is slow, weighed down by your bag as you walk the route to the factory. “So, ah, how was class?”

“Class? Oh, you know, fine.”

“Is third year difficult?”

A sardonic smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Studying is about the only thing I’m good at."

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“I wonder. What about you? Do you study much?”

You laugh. “Nah, not really.”

“You and Wooyoung have that in common then.” Yeosang exhales, hand tightening around his handlebars. “If only he’d commit to that offer, I wouldn’t worry about what he’ll do once he graduates.”

“Why has he not accepted?”

Yeosang shakes his head. “Not for any reason I can understand, that’s for sure.”

You drop the subject, unwilling to pry further into Wooyoung’s personal life without his knowledge. “What do you want to do after school then?”

“You’ll think it’s dumb.”

“I promise I won’t.”

You both walk a few paces before he answers. “Well, it’s always been my dream to be a performer, but these days I can’t see myself doing that without the rest of the group. I know that I’m wishing for too much, but I just want all of us to be able to perform together forever. I think that the others want that too, even if they can’t admit it.”

“Is that why the festival is so important?” you ask.

“Exactly.” Yeosang stops suddenly, eyes shining “That’s exactly why I feel so desperate. Even though it’s just a dumb school festival, I just know that this is my only chance to do what I love with the people I want to do it with. If I miss this chance, I’ll be closing that door forever.”

You smile. “Then I’ll do my best to help you convince them.”

Without the breeze from the speed of Yeosang’s bike, you’re sweating by the time you reach the factory. Summer beats down on you relentlessly, and you gladly accept the cold drink of water San offers you once you walk through the doors. A few minutes later, Mingi and Wooyoung arrive, completing the group.

“I’m kinda nervous,” Seongwha admits. He stands in front of the mirror, fiddling with his clothing.

“Don’t be, I’m nothing to be scared of.”

“You have to be honest though,” Jongho says, tapping his finger on the coffee table. “You have to tell us if it’s bad, or, like, tell us how to improve.”

“But I don’t know anything about dancing.”

Hongjoong waves a hand dismissively “But everyone can tell a good performance from a bad one. Just tell us which parts you liked and which parts could be better.”

You nod, a flutter in your chest emerging as you absorb some of the group’s trepidation.

“Okay!” Hongjoong claps his hands together and motions from the group to form in front of the mirror. “Treat this like a normal practice run. We’ve done this enough times to do it in our sleep, so don’t worry about making mistakes. Just have fun with it.

Yunho pushes Jongho playfully. “What the captain said, but remember the formation for once, will you?”

Jongho sneers, but when the group laughs, you get the impression that this is a running joke.

Since the couch faces away from the mirror, you sit on your knees, arms crossed over the backrest so you can watch them. Yeosang, fitting from what you know of his personality, is the most nervous of them all, hopping from one foot to the other. He claimed to only be good at studying, and you wonder if he’s nervous because that’s true, or because you're his first audience.

“Mono, would you start the track for us?” Hongjoong asks.

Your finger hovers over the button and Hongjoong gives you a thumbs-up once they’re all in position.

The music starts and their bodies jolt into fluid movement. It’s the energetic track first, the group executing impressive footwork to the rhythm of the song, somehow managing to appear controlled and wild at the same time. You can tell instantly how hard they’ve worked on each move, as while each member performs them with their own style, no one is off-beat, and certainly no one misses a step.

With what now feels like a habit, you can’t help but focus more on Yeosang. You see the power in each of his movements and recall the way his body felt against you when you rode behind him on his bike. Despite having a delicate beauty, he is not without strength.

As the song comes to a climactic end, you cheer loudly, then louder still when the several in the group avoid your eyes in embarrassment. Yunho, Wooyoung, and Hongjoong, however, thrive off your enthusiasm. Wooyoung bounds over as if the difficult routine he just completed did not affect his stamina in the least. “So? So?”

“Do you want my review now, or all at once at the end?”

“Now!” they say, but Mingi stands apart from them, arms crossed over his chest. Though you can tell he gave it his all, it felt as if he was dancing on his own.

You give them your honest opinion, grinning with them as they absorb your praise. Then, with the ice broken, they begin to come forward with questions about their individual parts.

“Do you think I should have done it like this, or this?” San asks, twisting his body in ways you couldn’t begin to replicate.

“I mean, I feel like I don’t have the experience to answer that properly. But both look great-”

“What about this part,” Wooyoung demands, demonstrating. “Is it too much? Not enough?”

Seongwha sits beside you, stealing your attention. “I’ve been working on my expressions but I feel like I can’t pull it off as well as Hongjoong. What did you think?”

“Alright, alright, give her a second,” Hongjoong says, sparing you from further showing your ignorance.

Eight faces stare at you as if all their hopes rest on your next words. After a breath, you give them your honest verdict, praising what deserves to be praised, and gently mentioning the few parts you thought needed something different, despite being unsure how to express what needed to change.

The boys listen to you seriously, nodding and humming in agreement.

“But, that’s just my opinion,” you feel the need to clarify. “I really don’t have the right to tell you what’s good or not.”

Hongjoong smirks. “Stop justifying yourself. Even just telling us what you liked is a huge help.”

“I feel so much calmer now that we’ve finally shown someone,” Jongho says. “It was killing me not knowing if we were just kidding ourselves with this.”

Hongjoong rolls up his sleeves, seemingly brimming with energy. “Ready to keep going?”

They head back to their places, but Yeosang hangs back for a moment, crouching behind the couch so that he is eye-to-eye with you.

“Was it really okay? You can tell me the truth,” he whispers.

You lean forward. “The truth?” He nods desperately. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you the whole time. You were incredible."

The flush that spreads over his cheeks surprises you. You had been expecting a smug grin, a chuckle at the obvious boost to his ego, but you should know that isn’t who Yeosang is by now.

He blinks, clears his throat, and stands. His mouth opens and closes, but he is unable to form a response before Hongjoong tells him to hurry up.

When the next song begins, Yeosang misses his queue.

The boys tease him goodnaturedly as you rewind the cassette, feeling sorry if it was your comment that threw him off.

On the second attempt, the opening goes perfectly, but you feel shy watching the boys move so sensually. You hadn’t thought bodies could look like that, create those kinds of lines, but it’s mesmerizing to watch even if you have the urge to cover your eyes. Wooyoung in particular suits this kind of dance, if only because he comes across as the most comfortable expressing himself this way. Of course, they all show their own styles and quirks with each move, but it’s Yeosang again you can’t stop watching, though you resolve not to reveal this to him a second time having embarrassed yourself enough. You admire how his style of dance subtly changes with the theme, how he adapts his movements, even his stance, to the song.

The song ends and the same series of events unfolds: Wooyoung bounds over, and the members crowd around you, asking questions about their individual performances until Hongjoong tells them to let you think. Again, you give them your honest opinions, grateful that they are able to take the feedback without becoming defensive or egotistical.

You begin to worry about their stamina as they take their places for the last track. The heat has seeped into the factory all day, and though the sun is no longer at its strongest, it lingers in the metal and concrete around you. You’re sweating just sitting down, and it's pouring off the boys.

“Are you guys okay? Do you want to rest for a bit longer?”

They stare at you like you’re insane. Their smiles tell you that nothing matters to them at that moment: not the heat, not the sweat, not the need for a long, cool drink. All that matters is the performance.

You start the track.

It’s another explosive start, with the choreography never giving them a moment to rest. Different from the playful energy of the first track, and the sensual atmosphere of the second, this one feels like a congratulations to themselves due to the unapologetic lyrics, and the striking, difficult moves that compliment them. You admire their athletic ability to be able to complete such a physical routine after having already done two more.

In your mind, you try to place your ideas around their formation, your motivation to get started increasing as you allow yourself to believe you may really be able to help their performance after all, if you can pull it off, that is.

Sweating, panting, smiling, the boys break their ending pose, collapsing to the ground and leaning on their knees.

“Argh!” Wooyoung jumps to his feet to stand back in front of the mirror. You recognize a slower version of a move from the third track you remember thinking looked difficult. “It’s always this part. Why can’t I do it?”

Yunho comes to stand beside him. “You’re doing it perfectly, what are you talking about?”

“It’s not perfect,” Wooyoung says through gritted teeth, dripping sweat onto the concrete as he tries again.

“Wooyoung.” Hongjoong’s voice snaps him out of it. “Come on, we need to hear Mono’s thoughts.”

Your back straightens at the sound of your name. After collecting a towel and a bottle of water, the boys settle into the chairs around you, Yunho, eager and smiling on your left, Hongjoong, calm but expectant on your right. You wonder if Yeosang chose the farthest seat from you on purpose. He still won’t meet your eyes.

Once you’ve given your opinion of the final track, you feel it’s only right to compliment each of them individually, starting with the leader.

“Hongjoong, you’re facial expressions are great.”

“Really? It’s not too much?”

“Not at all- and you have a really expressive style of dance that fits you perfectly.” He wrestles with his features, but his proud grin wins out. “Seonghwa too, your expressions kept grabbing my attention, but more than that you looked really graceful, especially during the second song.” Seongwha has an easier time accepting the compliment than their leader, nodding his head with similar pride. You continue to deliver your compliments: San for his impressive strength, flexibility, and enthusiasm, Yunho and Jongho for their precise execution of the choreography, and Wooyoung for his passion and unique style. Mingi grunts at your kind words for his sense of rhythm and strong movements, and Wooyoung’s smile doesn’t meet his eyes.

Finally, you reach Yeosang, who is tapping his foot against the floor. Your mouth opens and closes. You had been about to say how captivating he is again, but you’re suddenly overtaken by shyness. Somehow, it feels too honest to say in front of everyone else. “You were great,” you say to buy time as you think of something else. “You hit every beat perfectly as far as I could tell, and I thought it was impressive how you changed your style with each song. I thought I was watching a different dancer each time.”

San laughs. “I think Mono has a favorite.”

“Thanks…” Yeosang mumbles. “I’ll work hard to do even better next time.”

“So, you still want to be in the group?” Hongjoong asks, smiling as if he already knows the answer.

You push him gently. “Of course I do. I can’t wait to get started on all my ideas.”

“I saw all that art stuff you brought. I love the enthusiasm.”

“Can I work on it in here?” you ask Yeosang.

“Here? I guess so.”

You hear the question he didn’t ask in his tone. Why don't you want to work on it at home? “Your dad won’t mind?”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Wooyoung says. He stands, throwing his towel over the back of his chair. “I’m gonna keep practicing.”

You hope you haven’t said something to upset him.

Yunho jumps up to join Wooyoung and the other members groan. “Do you guys ever stop?” Seongwha moans. Yunho shoots him a mischievous expression, but Wooyoung is focused on his reflection.

“Well, I think they have the right idea,” Hongjoong says. “We should start thinking about how to improve from Mono’s feedback.”

Unable to argue with their leader, the rest of the boys drag themselves to their feet, spilling half-hearted words of complaint.

“Is it okay-” you flinch when they all turn to look at you. “Is it okay if I start making the costumes?”

“Feeling inspired?” San asks.

“Very.”

While retrieving the cassette player he forgot on the coffee table, Hongjoong ruffles your hair. “Knock yourself out.”

As the sun sinks lower in the sky, the heat lessens to a pleasant warmth that saps your ability to stay awake. You fight the heaviness of your eyes as you puzzle over turning your ambitious ideas into reality.

Behind you, the boys seem to be led more by Yunho than Hongjoong with regard to the choreography, and you realize that it must have been him that came up with most of it. Between breaks in the music, they come together to talk, demonstrate and teach, and you come to anticipate the soft sounds of their voices each time the cassette clicks off. It’s much more soothing than the music to you as you start to recognize the differences in the way they speak to one another, with more respect being given to Hongjoong and Seongwha as the oldest, and their unique laughs as they joke amongst themselves. Of course, you can barely consider yourself to be ‘one of them’, sitting hunched over the table by yourself, but you enjoy pretending, and hoping that one day soon you’ll be able to talk amongst them as if you’ve always been one of their number. This thought makes you recall what Yeosang said about needing to belong, how he had felt the same way, and your heart softens as you realize how perceptive he was to recognize this within you, and how truly kind for trying to do something about it.

“Mono.” You jump, the sewing machine choking on fabric. Yeosang leans over the back of the couch, face close to yours. “We’re all done for the day, did you want me to walk you home again?”

You cast your eyes to the others who are all in the middle of wiping their sweat and gathering their things. “Wow, how long has it been? And yes, if it’s no trouble.” Is it okay for you to be selfish like this? Is it wrong to want to spend as much time with him as you can?

“Okay, let me grab my bike.” He pauses, noticing the delicate silky fabric you’ve been working on as a test. “That’s looking good. I can’t wait to try them on.”

“Oh, well, you know, it’s not nearly finished, and I’m thinking I need to change how I’m doing the-” You cut yourself off, seeing Yeosang’s amused expression. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m taking Mono home,” Yeosang tells the others. “See you guys tomorrow.”

“We’re coming again tomorrow?” you ask. “Isn’t it the weekend?”

“Oh, do you have something else you need to do?” Yeosang asks, frowning. “Sorry, we shouldn’t have assumed-”

“No! No, I don’t have anything. I’m just impressed you work so hard on the weekends too.”

“There’s nowhere else to hang out in this piece of shit town,” Mingi says. “Here is as good as it gets.”

Wooyoung jumps to hook the taller boy around the neck with one arm, forcing his head to lower. “Thanks for that, Mingi, you’re always a ray of sunshine.”

“You’re one to talk-”

“Come on, you’re walking me home too. I’m feeling romantic.”

Mingi complains the whole way down the overgrown path and through the gate. The rest of you follow until you reach the road, Yeosang steadying the bike so you can stand on the spurs.

“See you tomorrow, guys,” you say, memorizing each of their faces as they smile at you, and tell you goodbye, such a simple response promising you that this day wasn’t a dream and that you can be this happy again.

Yeosang pushes off and a laugh bubbles from your throat as you almost lose your balance. He takes the extra strain of you pulling back on him with ease, once again reaching back instinctively to grab you.

“Sit down!” he says, laughing with you.

You regain your balance, hands on his shoulders, turning your face up to the sky as the wind blows against your hair. “I don’t want to!”

Yeosang lets go of your hip to put both hands on the bars before standing up on the pedals. “Yeosang!” You hold him around the middle, too flooded with adrenaline and happiness to fear falling.

He peddles faster and faster, both of you adapting your balance as the bike shifts left and right. You feel his chest rise and fall with the effort of carrying you both, using the excuse of maintaining your balance to hold him to you tighter. The wind whips past you both now, the draping branches of trees and bushes dragging against your clothes, gravel and dust kicking up behind the wheels.

“Where are we going?” you shout, not recognizing your usual route.

“Wait and see!” You reach a short hill and realize his plan.

Before he starts to attempt the climb, you jump off the back of the bike. “Let’s walk this bit, aren’t you tired?”

He flashes you a grin before taking off running, holding his bike to his side.

A laugh bursts out of you. “Yeosang, wait!”

With the handicap of his bike, you catch up quickly and overtake him, reaching the top of the hill first. You leap about in victory while Yeosang gives up, panting hard and walking the rest of the way.

“Yeah, yeah, you win.”

“You let me win,” you say, half-skidding back down the dirt path to help him with the bike.

Finally both at the top, you take in the view of the town. Everything is bathed golden in the sunset, turning even the dreaded school into a picturesque viewpoint. Flocks of birds fly about the treetops of the woods to the east, and sheep graze on the green grass of the tallest hill in the middle of town, bordered by unused pastures. In front of you, the hill drops in a steep decline and you trace the road until you find the brown tile roof of your house.

You turn to Yeosang, about to ask if you can linger here for a while, but he’s already climbing back on his bike.

“Shall we?”

You glance at the decline again and bite your lip; you can’t deny him. “We shall.”

This time, you don’t stand, but you do hold as tightly to Yeosang as you can. “You scared?”

“No.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

With that, he takes his feet off the ground, gravity giving the bike speed without the need to peddle. You feel the wind whipping at your face as you rest your chin on Yeosang’s shoulder and you almost bite your tongue as he begins to laugh.

“Faster!”

“Faster? If you say so!”

Yeosang leans low over the handlebars and begins to pump his legs. You both scream from the rush, Yeosang’s deep voice cracking and making you laugh all over again. Pieces of gravel ping against your body and your eyes are watering from the wind, but you can’t even think of asking Yeosang to stop.

The bottom of the hill approaches, and with it, a sharp bend around. “Lean to the right!” Yeosang tells you, “or we’ll crash into the hedge!”

Using his body as a counterbalance, you do as he asks, dipping your body to the right while he does the same in the other direction. It’s merely a single moment of effort, your fingers white-knuckled within the fabric of his shirt, teeth gritted, arm muscles working harder than they ever have, but your heart is pounding by the time Yeosang tells you to sit back up properly.

“You did it!” he shouts, touching your clasped hands around his middle. “We-”

“Yeosang!” You point over his shoulder.

His head snaps around, finally noticing the vehicle heading your way. It isn’t a car, but a tractor, each one of its rear wheels twice the size of Yeosang’s bike. The driver blares his horn at you, but even if they both break, you’re going too fast to stop in time.

“Hold on!” Yeosang steers the bike to the very edge of the narrow country lane, the wheels jumping over the rocks and uneven ground of the verge. The tractor does the same, its left wheels ripping leaves off the hedges on the opposite side. Even with this, there is barely enough space for you to pass through.

With the tractor almost upon you, you close your eyes and press your forehead against Yeosang’s back, feeling him tense just as hard as you. A moment passes before the roar of the tractor’s engines fills your ears and the smell of diesel fills your nose. Something hard and unyielding rips passed your arm.

Then, all of a sudden, it’s over, the roar of the engine at your back.

“Oh my God,” Yeosang sucks in a breath, “I-”

The bike jolts hard and you realize that your cheek is no longer touching the soft material of Yeosang’s shirt, but the gravel of the path. Pain flares through the right side of your body as you finally process the force of falling off the bike and lift yourself off the ground. You search for Yeosang, finding him next to the spinning rear wheel of the bike. He’s sitting with his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his arms with a dazed look on his face. “What just happened?”

You crouch beside him, wincing at the pain in your side, but the blood seeping into the dirt under Yeosang’s right palm has you more concerned. “You tell me! Show me your hand.”

He lifts it but you can’t see the extent of the damage with all the blood and dirt in the way. Reaching into your bag, you retrieve a half-empty water bottle apologizing before pouring it over the wound. Yeosang barely flinches, but you can feel him watching you.

“It doesn’t look too bad. Does it hurt?” you say, examining his palm. When he doesn’t answer, you look up, finding that he still has his gaze on you, his mouth pulling up at the corners.

“Yeosang?”

He throws his head back as he starts to laugh in earnest. The sound is catching and you can’t help but be smiling when call his name again.

“I’m sorry.” With his uninjured hand, he removes yours, but continues to hold it. “It’s just, I was so scared. I thought we were going to die.”

“And that’s funny?” you say, but you’re laughing too now that the danger is gone and the adrenaline in your systems is making you feel giddy.

“It’s not, it’s not.” He sighs and examines his hand, shakes it slightly. “And yeah, it does hurt a little.”

“Is it broken?”

“Nah, just a graze. What about you?” He touches the shoulder you landed on gently.

Not thinking, you pull down the side of your shirt to inspect the skin. Yeosang looks away quickly.

“Sorry,” you squeak, pulling the sleeve back up. “I didn’t- yes, I’m fine. I’ll probably bruise, but no broken skin.

“Man,” he says, allowing himself to look at you again, “that was so stupid.”

“It was. But it was fun too, right?”

Yeosang helps you to your feet with his good hand. “Fun enough to make almost dying worth it?”

“Probably not.”

You offer to wheel his bike the rest of the way, insisting until he accepts. You both walk slowly, the aches in your bodies becoming more pronounced with each step until you can’t wait to lie down to take the strain away.

“You don’t need to walk me home the whole way. You’re in pain, aren’t you?”

"What kind of man would I be if I didn’t?”

“A smart one?”

You exchange a look and laugh.

“Seriously though, you don’t-”

Yeosang takes his bike from you, increasing his pace until you have to hurry to catch up. “No arguing, okay? Let’s just get you home.”

While you chat, the day grows dark, until, when you reach your house, the only thing lighting your way is the moon, its great silver face bearing down on you both. You want to ask Yeosang to come inside so you can properly clean his hand, but you have neither the medical supplies, nor the courage to let him see how you live. Don’t be a coward, you tell yourself while he says his goodbyes outside your gate. He won’t reject you.

But you just can’t bear it. If he sees that empty hallway, shoe rack with only one other pair of shoes, the master bedroom with its bare mattress and moth-eaten curtains, your bedroom, hardly slept in, void of personality and life, the kitchen you’ve never used and its barren pantry and humming fridge freezer that contains nothing more than milk and microwaves meals from the corner shop, it would be too much for you to bear. You can’t let Yeosang see that kind of sadness. You can’t let him know what an empty person he’s let into his life.

“Mono?”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay getting home?”

“Don’t worry about me, I feel fine.” Your face crumples with worry. “How about this? Give me your landline and I’ll call you once I’m home.”

You rack your brain. Yes, I do have a phone. “One second, I don’t know the number off by heart.”

You dash inside, finding it hanging on the wall of the hallway. A layer of dust coats the keypad, but you can’t find any hint as to what the phone number would be. You aren’t even sure how you would go about finding it. You put the receiver to your ear, hearing the dial tone, confirming that you at least have a service provider and therefore a phone number.

You search the small hallway table, but the drawers are empty. You check your room, the master bedroom, even flip through your notebook. Nothing.

You kick the hallway table in frustration. It jumps back revealing a small yellow square of paper hiding underneath the table leg. You pick it up and yelp in relief as you read the words Our number: XXXX XXX XXX. You tear a page from your notebook and copy the number before hurrying back out to Yeosang.

“Here,” you say, out of breath as you hand it to him.

“Thanks.” He rubs the back of his neck, then winces when he uses his injured palm by mistake. “So, I should probably go. I’ll call you.”

“Yeosang.”

“Hm?”

You pull him towards you gently, wary of any injuries he may have hidden from you. “Thank you for today.”

Movements stilted and awkward, he pats your back. “I didn’t do anything, really…”

“You did. So, just let me thank you, okay?”

He settles into the embrace. “Okay. Then, you’re welcome.”

At home, you feel restless. The stillness of the night, rather than calming you, makes your skin crawl.

You hold the note with the phone number under lamp light, reading and rereading the words.

Our number.

Just to be sure, you hold your notebook with your own writing next to it. No, it’s definitely not yours, but it’s similar. So, who does it belong to? Your mom or dad? Why had you never used the phone before today?

Curious, you take the receiver off the hook and hold it to your ear. You want to try calling someone before Yeosang gets home, to make sure that it works, and you’re wondering who you could possibly call when a voice comes through the speaker.

“Mono!”

The receiver smacks against the wall as you scream, leaping back until you thump against the wall opposite. The voice was male, but the distorted connection made it impossible to distinguish anything else about him.

But, no, there was one thing you noticed: he sounded desperate, or maybe relieved, surprised? Again, it was hard to tell, but he definitely said your name, and he was definitely not in a state of calm.

Breathing hard, you pick up the receiver again and hold it to your ear.

Nothing but the dial tone.

You replace it on the hook, only for it to ring, painfully loud in the silence of the house. You’re almost too scared to answer, but since it’s probably Yeosang, you force yourself.

“Yeosang?”

“Mono?” You recognize his voice instantly and slide down the wall to sit on the floor.

“Yeosang.”

“Are you okay? You sound freaked out.”

“I just heard a fox scream and it scared me.”

Yeosang hums down the line. “I guess even things like that are scary when you live alone. Are you alright?”

“What about you? Your hand?”

“I treated it before I called you, don’t worry.” He coughs. “And I'm sorry for causing that whole thing. I was being reckless.”

“I was being reckless with you, don’t take all the credit.”

A pleasant silence extends between you, and somehow, you can feel that he’s smiling.

“Alright. Then, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says.

“Have you eaten?” you blurt out. You don’t want him to go and leave you here on your own.

He chuckles. “I forgot, but I will after this.”

“That’s good…”

“What about you?”

“No, not yet, but I will.” You force down the selfish desire to keep him with you forever, gripping your shirt as you say, “Then, I’ll let you eat. Thank you again for today and… And sleep well.”

“Good night, Mono.”

“Night.”

The call disconnects. You linger with the receiver pressed to your ear for several minutes, listening for that mysterious voice, but all you hear is the dial tone.

#ateez #yeosang #jongho #wooyoung #hongjoong #yeosang reader #yeosang x you #yeosang x named reader #seonghwa #san #yunho #mingi #suggestive content #fanfic

1 note · View note

yonkimint · 2 years

Photo

36. 20 Questions ✎

PREVIOUS - MASTERLIST - NEXT

y/n flips her phone screen side down and buries her face in her pillow. Her heart beats fast in her chest. Because I think you deserve someone who loves you… burns on the back of her eyelids and then, brighter, What if I want to fall in love with you?

“Namjoon,” she sighs, pressing a trembling palm to the thunk, thunk, thunk beneath her sternum, “I can’t take these mixed signals.”

Then stop sending them, a voice echoes in her head. She pulls the covers up over her head, ashamed, because of course, it’s true. She may have told Namjoon very clearly that she didn’t believe in love but she flirted with him anyway. She let him worm his way into her heart anyway. And now she has to admit it.

The craving to talk these sudden feelings out with Yoongi pools strong in her stomach, a small current drawing her from her bed and into the living room where she’s banking on him still sitting up, unable to sleep. His insomnia’s been especially bad since they returned from Vegas. This is also her fault.

Instead, she finds Jin nursing amber liquid from a crystalline glass. He pats the spot beside him on their couch and y/n nods, slumping down beside him. She leans left until her cheek indents around the broad curve of his shoulder.

“Is it even worth it to tell you to go home anymore, WWH?” she mumbles.

Jin’s shoulder shakes, sending vibrations down to her bones, and then he shifts, wrapping an arm tightly around her and pulling her close. “No,” he whispers into her hair, smoothing it behind her ear with one deft sweep of his crooked fingers.

“I figured,” y/n sighs.

“What’s got you up so late?”

“Namjoon.”

“Ah.”

His name hangs in the air, silence settling around it. y/n waits. Surely Jin will start talking any second, filling the void with whatever nonsense rattles around in his brain half the time, but he seems content to trace small circles against her arm while she sorts her own thoughts out.

“I want him to go back to hating me,” she says.

“So you can keep playing the victim?” Jin asks.

y/n pushes away from him, shooting him with a deep scowl. How dare he accuse her of that? “What is that supposed to mean?” she snaps.

Jin shrugs and takes another sip of his night cap. “If Namjoon hates you, then you get to pout about how whatever confused feelings you have for him are because he bulldozed into your life, made you fall for him, and then left you alone. Not to be unsympathetic but it’s basically what you’ve done ever since Alex crossed you. It’s why you never bothered to return my feelings back in college and it’s definitely why you’ve ignored Yoongi all these years because you know we’d never leave you so how can you protect yourself if things don’t work out?”

“Wow,” y/n mouths, the word not quite vocal, “How long have you been waiting to throw that at me?”

“I’m not trying to throw anything at you, y/n,” he says.

“Yoongi doesn’t like me like that,” she whispers. Jin shoots her a disbelieving look and rolls his eyes.

“Yoongi would die for you,” he scoffs.

“And I’d die for him too!” y/n reasons, “But it’s not like that.”

“Much to his dismay…”

y/n shoves him. She doesn’t need to reanalyze every one of Yoongi’s actions and motives right now. Thoughts of Namjoon filter back into her brain. His texts. His face lit up on her screen. Their recent “namjooning” adventures. The night in Vegas that they still haven’t talked about. Tingles run up her spine.

“I’m getting divorced tomorrow,” she says.

Jin presses his lips together, bending forward to set his glass on the coffee table, and takes a stab in the dark, “And you don’t want to.”

“No,” y/n agrees, “but I want to want to. How come I’ve been so good at dodging feelings all these years just to get sneak attacked by a guy with an astronomical amount of drama?”

“Misery loves company,” Jin teases, snatching y/n by the wrist when she turns to abandon him for her room, “I’m kidding! So you are admitting you have feelings for Namjoon though? Finally?”

y/n rolls her eyes, “He makes me giggle, Jin. It’s disgusting.”

“You need to tell him how you feel.”

y/n nods. She knows she needs to. Maybe she should see if he can meet her before their hearing. Maybe she’ll treat him to breakfast or something. But what if Yeji catches them and makes good on her threat? She shakes the thought away.

She still has to tell him.

Taglist (send an ask or leave a reply if you want to be added): @pb-n-juju @jikooksgirl19 @sopebubbles @halesandy @unadulteratedlyunique @bangtantruffle @danny-boy27 @esteemedsalt @bri-mal @pineapple-hoseok @lilacdreams-00 @jooniesbanoonies @babycoffeefire @jyp1204 @namjoonsillegaldimple @sunflowerbebe07 @fairy-jaykay @brit97 @goldenhoney-cas @hey-itsmina @somelazysundays @aidam391 @little-dark-empress @quentinmetsys @manchuria @letmebreathepls @magicalmarauder @hwayne2294 @myselfxbangtan @bubblytaetae @secretlycrazyhummingbird @n4mina @slut-for-dabi @curedblues @bornconfvsed @goofyhoffy @juju-227592 @imaginativedreams @gloomy-k @heartsarecompatible @daydreambrliever @90s-belladonna @naajix @kpopsimpstruggles @steffiiirose @kazufuyusluv @cursedcursives @mrspetxrs @80sbass @shadyfox242 @zxlla @proflyndo @cestlabellemort @secretly-a-weeb @borahae-reads @twixxxpie @ireadthensuetheauthors @jinscharms @angellife133 @sumzysworld @preciouschimine @thekookiecorner @lovesickbangtan @tinyoonsblog @sofianoriega95-blog @chieftoadturkeynickel @piecesofapril11 @mischiefbarnes @justaweird0 @craftymoonchaos @supervengerslock @sweetjellyfishland @armytwist @imtoanonymousforyou @broken-glowsticks @a-lil-bit-nuts @dragoncharmwitch @atomicrebelcowboymoney @uno7 @mushroomkwan

216 notes · View notes

sineala · 3 years

Note

How would you say fandom culture has changed over the years? What are some differences you notice between older and younger fandom folks?

I’ve been thinking for a while about how to answer this, and I’m not sure I have a really good answer, but I’m going to try.

I’ve been in fandom since approximately 1995. Maybe 1994. At that point, the world wide web was a relatively new part of the internet, and the fandoms I was in had most of their activity on privately-hosted mailing lists (predating eGroups/OneList/Yahoo Groups) and on Usenet newsgroups, with fiction beginning to be available on websites as part of either fandom-specific or pairing-specific archives as well as authors’ individual pages. Fanfiction.net did not yet exist. LiveJournal did not exist. AO3 definitely did not exist. If you wanted real-time chat, there was IRC. I was coming in basically at the tail end of zine fandom; zines were no longer the only way of distributing fanfiction, as fandom started to move online. So I have a selection of zines from 90s-era Western media fandoms but even by then zines weren’t where I was doing most of my reading.

I think in terms of generally “what it was like to be in fandom,” the big-picture stuff hasn’t changed. Fandom still produces creative fanwork and likes to, y’know, get together and talk about fandom. Also, almost every fight or complaint that fandom has about something is a thing that has been going on for actual years. People complain that, say, the kudos button is ruining comment culture because back in the LJ days the only way you could comment on a story was, well, by leaving an actual comment, or sending an email on a mailing list, and this might mean that people who would have otherwise commented have left a kudos instead. But back in the LJ and mailing list days, people were complaining that commenting was going downhill since the days of zines, when in order to comment on a story you had to write a real paper letter and mail it and because you had to do that, the quality of feedback was so much better than you got nowadays because people could just dash off a quick email or comment. You get the idea. Top/bottom wars are not new either. Pairing wars are not new. If you’ve been in fandom a while, you will pretty much have seen all the fights already. I think one thing that is new, though, is the fandom awareness of things like privilege and intersectionality and various -isms, as well as things like “providing warnings might be nice” (do you know how much unwarned deathfic I have read? a lot!) and I sure won’t say we’re perfect at any of this now, but I think fandom is trying way way more about all that stuff than it used to.

There are some fights we actually don’t have anymore, as far as I can tell. I feel like it’s been years since I’ve seen the “real person fiction is wrong” battle, but also I don’t hang out in a whole lot of RPF fandoms, so it’s possible that’s still going and I just don’t see it.

There also used to be a recurring debate about whether gay relationships that were canonical were slash or not. When slash started, obviously this wasn’t a question because there weren’t canonical gay relationships in fandoms, period. But as gay characters began to appear in media, people started to wonder “does slash mean all same-sex relationships, or does slash mean only non-canonical same-sex relationships?” Now, you may be reading this and think that sounds like an incredibly weird thing to get hung up on, but that’s because what appears to have happened is that the term “ship” (originally from X-Files Mulder/Scully fandom) has, as far as I can tell, come up and eaten most of the rest of the terminology. Now people will just say, “oh, I ship that.” For any pairing, gay or not, canonical or not. Fandom seems to have decided that for the most part it no longer actually needs a term specific to same-sex relationships as a genre.

Similarly, there are a few genres of fic that we used to have also pretty much don’t exist anymore. There are also plenty of genres that are well-entrenched now that are also extremely recent -- A/B/O comes to mind. But there are some kinds of fic we don’t write a lot of now. Like, I haven’t seen smarm in years! I also haven’t seen We’re Not Gay We Just Love Each Other in a while. There was also a particular style of slash writing where you’d basically have to explain, in detail, what made you think that these particular characters could be anything other than straight. You’d have to motivate this decision. You’d have to look at their canonical heterosexual relationships and come up with a way to explain why all those had happened in order to reconcile how this one guy could have romantic feelings for another guy. When had he figured out he wasn’t straight? Who might he have been with before? How does he interact with people in ways that make you think he’s not straight? That kind of thing. You had to, essentially, show your work. And these days a lot of fanfic is just like, “Okay, Captain America is bisexual, let’s go!” It’s... different.

Fandom also used to skew older, is my sense. A lot older. I don’t know, actually, if it really was older, but I get the sense now that there are some younger people who are surprised that adults are still in fandom. I have seen people saying these days that they think they’re too old for fanfiction because they are not in middle school anymore. And I think a lot of this has to do with the fact that the barriers to access fandom are a lot lower than they used to be. You used to basically have to be an adult with disposable income (or know an adult with disposable income who was willing to help you out; but even then if you were reading explicit fiction you also had to swear you were 18+, usually by sending in an age statement to whoever you were buying the zine from or to the mods of the list you wanted to join, so a lot of fandom was very much age-gated). Internet access was not widely available. Even if you had internet access, you maybe didn’t have your own email address, so you couldn’t sign up for mailing lists; free email providers didn’t exist. If you wanted to buy zines, you had to have money to buy them. If you wanted to go to cons, you had to be able to afford the cost of the con, travel to the con, et cetera. If you wanted to have a website you had to know HTML. Social media did not exist. You want to draw art? Guess what, you’re probably drawing it on paper! You might be able to upload a picture to your website if you have a digital camera or a scanner, but both of those things are expensive, and also a lot of people don’t have the capability or the money to download pictures from the internet (some people have data caps with overage charges, and some people have text-only connections!), so they won’t get to see it. Maybe you can sell your piece at a con! You want to make a fanvid? We called them songvids, but, anyway, you know how you’re doing that? You’re going to hook two VCRs together and smash the play and record buttons very fast! If you want anyone else to watch them, you are either making them a tape personally and mailing it to them or bringing your vids to a convention. Maybe you can digitize them and upload them, but it’s going to take people hours to download them!

(Every three hours my ISP would kick me off the internet and I’d have to dial in again. If it was a busy time of day, it might take me 20 or 30 minutes to get a connection again. And that was assuming no one else in the house needed to use the phone line. Imagine if your modem went out every three hours now.)

And now, for the cost of my internet connection, I can read pretty much whatever fanfiction I want, whenever I want it. I can see all the fanart I want! I can watch vids! Podfic exists now! Fanmixes exist! Gifsets and moodboards exist! If I want to write fic I can write it with programs that are completely free, and as soon as I post it everyone in the entire world can read it. If I want to draw or make vids that may require some additional investment, but I may also be able to do it with things I already have. Do you have any idea how good we all have it?

There are a couple of kinds of fan activity that don’t seem to exist anymore, though, and I miss them. I know that roleplaying still goes on, but I feel like these days most people who do real-time text roleplay have switched to things like Discord. I know that in the LJ days, RP communities were popular. But I really miss MU*s (MUDs, MUSHes, MOOs, MUXes..), which were servers for real-time text-based RP with a bunch of... hmm... features to aid RP. There were virtual rooms with text descriptions, and objects in virtual rooms with descriptions, and your character had a description, and they could interact with the objects as well as with other characters, and you could program things to change descriptions or emit various kinds of text or take you to different rooms, and so on. Just to, y’know, enhance the atmosphere. It was fun and it was where I learned to RP and I’m sad they’re pretty much gone now.

I also don’t think I see a lot of fanfiction awards in fandoms. Wonder where they went.

Going back to the previous point, the barriers to actually consuming the canon you are fannish about are way, way, way lower now. You can pretty much take it for granted that if right now someone tells you about a shiny new fandom, there will be a way to read that book or watch that show or movie right now. Possibly for free! Of course you can watch it! Why wouldn’t you be able to?

This was absolutely, absolutely not the case before. I’m currently in Marvel Comics fandom. If there is a comic I want to read, I can read it right now on the internet. I have subscribed to Marvel Unlimited and I can read pretty much every comic that is older than three months old; the newer ones cost extra money. But I can do it all from the comfort of my own home right now. I was also, actually, in Marvel Comics fandom in the nineties. If I wanted to read a comic, I had to go to a comic book store and hope they had it in stock; if they didn’t, I had to try another store. Not a lot of comics were available in trade paperback and they definitely weren’t readable on the internet. I used to read a lot of Gambit h/c fic set after Uncanny X-Men #350. I never found a copy of UXM #350. I still haven’t! But I did eventually read it on Unlimited.

Being in TV show fandoms also had similar challenges. Was the show you were watching still on the air? No? Then you’d better hope you could find it in reruns, or know someone who had tapes of it that they could copy for you, otherwise you weren’t watching that show. It was, I think, pretty common for people to be in fandoms for shows they hadn’t seen, because they had no way to see the show, but they loved all the fanfic. The Sentinel had a whole lot of fans like that, both because I think it took a while for it to end up in reruns and because overseas distribution was probably poor. So you’d get people who read the fic and wrote fic based on the other fic they’d read, which meant that you got massive, massive amounts of fanon appearing that people just assumed was in the show because it was a weirdly specific detail that appeared in someone’s fic once. Like “Jim and Blair’s apartment has a small water heater” (not actually canonical) or “Blair is a vegetarian” (there’s an episode where his mother visits and IIRC cooks him one of his favorite meals, which is beef tongue).

Like, I was in The Professionals fandom for years. I read all the fic. I hadn’t seen the show. As far as I know, it never aired in the US, and it certainly never had any kind of US VHS or DVD release. I’d seen a couple songvids. I eventually saw a couple episodes in maybe 2003, and that was because my dad special-ordered a commercial VHS tape from the UK and paid someone to convert it from PAL to NTSC. I didn’t get to see the whole show until several years later when I got a region-free DVD player someone in fandom sent me burned copies of the UK DVD releases and then I special-ordered the commercial release of the DVDs from the UK myself. But if I were a new fan and wanted to watch Pros right now? It is on YouTube! For free!

I think also one of the things about fandom that’s not immediately evident to new fans is the way in which it is permanent and/or impermanent. There are probably people whose first fannish experience is on Tumblr or who only read fanfic on FFN and who have no idea what they would do if either site, say, just shut down. But if you’ve been in fandom a while, you’ve been through, say, Discord, Tumblr, Twitter, Pillowfort, Imzy, DW, JournalFen, LJ, GeoCities, IRC, mailing lists. And sure, if Tumblr closed, it would be inconvenient. But fandom would pack up and move somewhere else. You would find it again. It would, eventually, be okay. Similarly, if you’ve been in a lot of fandoms, if you’ve made a lot of friends, drifting through fandoms is like that. You’ll make a friend in 1998 because you were in the same fandom, and then you might go your own ways, and ten years later you might be in another fandom with them again! It happens.

But the flip side of that is that I think a lot of older fans have learned not to trust in the permanence of any particular site. If you like a story, you save it as soon as you read it. If you like a piece of art, you save it. If you like a vid, you save it. Because you don’t know when the site it’s on will be gone for good. I have, like, twenty years of lovingly-curated fanfic. And I feel like people who have only been in fandom since AO3 existed might not understand how much AO3 is a game-changer compared to what we had before. It’s a site where you can put your fic up and you don’t have to worry that the webhost is going out of business, or that the site might delete your work because they don’t allow gay fiction or explicit fiction or fiction written in second person or fiction for fandoms where the creator doesn’t like fanfiction, or whatever. Because all of those things have absolutely happened. But, I mean, I still save pretty much everything I like, even on AO3, just in case.

So, basically, yeah, fandom is a whole lot more accessible than it used to be. I think fandom is pretty much still fandom, but it’s a lot easier to get into, and that has made it way more open to people who wouldn’t have been able to be in fandom before. There is so, so much more now than there ever was before, and I think that’s great.

#Anonymous #replies

2K notes · View notes

tnystrk-exe · 3 years

Text

Estocolmo 2

Hannibal x Reader

Masterpost

First Chapter

Warnings: 18+ Oral M receiving, daddy kink, someone walks in

Word count: 5.7k

Chapter Two

The light streaming in through the window woke you up. You curled up in the soft silk sheets, listening to Hannibal’s hums coming from the bathroom. Deciding there wasn’t much more to do than doze, you did just that, taking your time to enjoy your Monday morning. His bed was much softer than the hand me down one you kept at home. You really could lay here forever.

It wasn’t until the bed dipped that you opened your eyes. He was all ready dressed and groomed to the nines. The navy sweater and grey trousers seemed as homey as the man allowed himself to be.

“Hello, handsome,” you greeted.

“Good morning, darling.” Hannibal cupped your face gently, smiling when you leaned into his touch. “It’s marvelous to see you so relaxed, it’s not a sight I get to see often. You’re divine.”

“Devine,” you scoffed in disbelief, “I haven’t had a glimpse of it yet, but I’m sure I look nothing less than a wreck.”

Hannibal’s thumb stroked your jaw, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. “When it’s my fault you look so utterly debauched, I can’t lie and say my pride doesn’t play a factor.”

“There it is,” you couldn’t help rolling your eyes as you dropped a kiss to his hand, “Always taking pride in everything you do. However, much to your dismay, I’m going to have to destroy your masterpiece. A shower does sound perfect right now.”

“Of course, I took the liberty of running a bath for you.”

“Sweet man,” you smiled fondly at him.

Bringing you closer he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. As always, he left you wanting more. This time though, you didn’t chase after him. The night of fun was done. All that was left was the goodbye to wrap up the event completely. Some part of you wanted to push that time back.

You hummed lightly, “You enjoy making it hard to not miss you.”

“All the sweeter when we reunite.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

He tapped your cheek playfully, “Take your bath. I’ll have breakfast ready by the time you’re done.”

Getting out of bed, you stretched. Hannibal’s fingertips ghosted along your spine. “From the looks of it, you’d be happier to help.”

“Simply admiring… You truly are a thing of beauty.” he squeezed your hip before taking his hands away, “I’ll leave some of my things for you to wear on the bed.”

Walking into the bathroom, you were taken by the soft scent of nearly familiar perfumes you’d wear, his cologne lingered ever so slightly. A perfect mix of the two. Looking in the mirror, you surveyed the wreckage. Runny mascara, smudged over lipstick, and rather large hickies scattered across your body did make you look like the definition of debauched. The neck didn’t have as much damage, but covering the few there would still be a pain. So much for keeping things hidden from others. Grabbing the pack of makeup wipes on the counter, you started cleaning up knowing you’d find it to be too much of a chore after the bath.

It was welcoming when you finally got into the still warm bath. Hot water made you relax further as your body let go of the last bit of tension it held. The products seemed to match the ones you usually used, if not make yours seem like cheap dupes. Your lip quirked at that realization, the gentleman seemed to have had ulterior motives after all.

You took your time washing up, deciding time to relax was sparse so you may as well take advantage of the small time frame you did have. A soft knock at the door pulled you back to the present. “Afraid I drowned?” You asked teasingly as the door opened.

Hannibal offered a quiet chuckle as he walked over and perched on the side of the tub, “Asleep more like.”

You didn’t bother hiding yourself. He’d probably be able to draw you from memory by now if you were being honest. “I do have a question.”

“What is it, darling?”

You gestured to the soaps, “Did you have any plans in particular for our night?”

“Not exactly. The night ended perfectly- you wouldn’t mind me saying-” Hannibal tapped your chin affectionately when you smiled, “but there wasn’t anything other than pure intentions when I purchased them. The scent reminded me of you and I thought if you drank too much or there was a storm, those kinds of things, it would be good to have something for you to use. Sending you out into possible dangers was never something left to chance. You’d be safer with me.”

“Ever the good host,” you said, taking his word for it, “Thank you for thinking of me, Hannibal.”

“Always.” Hannibal rolled up his sleeves, moving to sit behind you. “Lean back for me.”

You turned to look at him questioningly, “What are you doing?”

“I find it very important to take care of my partners just as much after. You didn’t give me much of a chance last night. While I’m here, I may as well make myself useful.”

Allowing him to turn you forward again before he grabbed the shampoo and conditioner. You sighed heavily as he massaged the shampoo in, his fingers working magic. “You took care of me,” you argued, “Asked me what I wanted and gave it to me. I didn’t want anything else.”

“It’s just as much for me as it is for you,” he stated, running some water through your hair, “I like to make sure nothing was too much or that you’re not telling me if it was.”

“I’m as good as I’ve been in a long time. Really. If I hadn’t wanted something to happen I would have stopped you. Though, if I had known things would have ended like this I would have stopped by when we had more time. Testing before winter break would have been all that much easier.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t be of service earlier,” he mused. “A difficult time that must have been for my sweet girl. Poor thing.”

The urge to sink into the water was strong as you felt the smallest bit of pride at the endearment paired with an equally small bout of jealousy that you shared it with his other partners. It was snuffed out quickly. Perhaps you’d entertain this for a while, but it wouldn’t last. He liked a life that was above and usually too stiff compared to your own. The pair of you weren’t meant to work long term and that was fine. A simple passing thing between friends was the most this would be.

Things went back to business as usual after that night. There weren't any intense feelings or need for Hannibal. There wouldn’t be any time to entertain the idea even if they had popped up. Not with this insane work piled on top of you and the final test you needed to study up on. The most you had seen him was in passing or when he’d drop off a meal every so often. Though you wouldn’t lie and say your mind hadn’t found itself wandering every so often.

There was nothing you could do about that, so instead you took shifts, grading work then studying. Rinse and repeating the cycle as long as you could handle it. Your head was pounding before you knew it, but all of this needed to be done. A little bit longer, you reminded yourself as you took a couple headache pills.

The buzzing of your phone vibrating on the desk startled you. “Hi, dad,” you sighed, stuck with this particular pain.

“Hey, pretty girl, how have you been?”

Pretty girl, you scoffed inwardly. You had to give him credit- at least he was pretending to be interested this time. That was rare. “Nothing much. Work. School. The usual. It’s been heavy lately.”

“Yeah, of course, things get like that. So listen, your mom and I are running real low late-“

“I already told you I wasn’t any good for money. I’m barely making ends meet as it is… I already sent you the last $600 I could,” you rested your head in your hands, “I’m sorry.”

“Well, what the fuck do we send you to that school for,” he shouted, “It’s a waste of time. You’re not gonna make anything of yourself. All you do is waste fucking time. Everything we do for you and you just take it all for granted. What type of selfish bitch of a kid doesn’t try to help out her parents?”

“Yeah, dad, I take everything for granted. Putting myself through school should have been a breeze. Juggling school and two jobs? Simple fucking shit right? You should know, right? Wait… you couldn’t even raise your kid could you?” You snapped the stress getting to you. “Why the hell do you always do this to me?”

No response. He hung up. The truth of the matter seemingly too much for him. No. That was too much credit. He knew you wouldn’t send him anything. Try again some other time. Sighing you set the phone down. Your throat felt like it was closing and your head was pounding. A couple tears fell, soon followed by a quiet sob. You didn’t want anyone to see, but the stress was getting to you. Try as you might, you weren’t made of stone.

You hadn’t noticed when Hannibal had walked in for a usual evening check up. “Darling girl,” his accented voice was laced with worry as he walked toward you, “What’s wrong?” Hannibal crouched near your chair as he wiped away your tears.

“Everything went to my head. It’s nothing. I’m okay,” you swallowed thickly, as you attempted to stop the crying and sniffling, not meeting his eye just yet.

Hannibal grabbed your chin gently, forcing you to look at him. “Nothing more?”

“Nope,” you shook your head, giving him a slight smile, “Just school and a headache. Thank you for checking on me. I appreciate it.”

He looked you over, not believing you but unwilling in prodding you further. “It seems a break is in order.”

“I can’t, Hannibal,” You gestured to the papers and books around the desk, “The sooner I’m done with all this the better. I just want to go home.”

Hannibal started to pick up your things, he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer this time. “We’ll go to my office, you’ll eat, I’ll grade the work and ask you questions. Follow me.” Before you can get a word in, he turned heel, leaving you to quickly scramble behind him.

The office had the same comforting feel his home did. Though you weren’t sure many besides you felt comfort in his presence. Hannibal Lecter was by all means an intimidating man, even when you did feel like you were close to him. Closer now, you corrected thinking about the fading bruises under your shirt and the sweater he had let you borrow that you had yet to return. Still there was something about his presence that invoked a feeling of calm in you, even with that spike of something questionable. He seemed to always have all the answers and knew exactly what to do with any situation.

“Here,” Hannibal placed a Tupperware and drink on your side of the desk, “You really shouldn’t be spreading yourself so thin, love. It isn’t good for such a delicate thing.”

“I’m hardly delicate.” You grabbed the food giving him a grateful smile. “I’ve got it all handled. It’s just finals and everything stacked up. The future. I stumbled a bit, is all.”

Hannibal sat on his side and started shuffling through your papers. “Nonetheless, I wish you didn’t strain yourself so much.”

“Not all our days can be a nice weekend together,” you pecked at the salad, as much as you wanted to grab some papers off the stack you knew he would never allow it, “Life is still as frustrating as ever.”

“What did they say?” Hannibal asked, nipping the problem at the bud. If you wouldn’t start the conversation he would.

You sighed, “Something along the lines of ‘waste of time’ and ‘selfish bitch’ really wasn't the worst thing he's ever said. I was just already at my endpoint. I’m pretty sure if I dropped my pen I would have had a similar reaction.”

“Being at your end doesn’t justify mistreatment.”

“I know,” you shrugged, “but I don’t have it in me to argue anymore. Deaf ears and all that. What’s the point?”

“The point is making it known that you won’t tolerate that behavior.”

“I’m just tired and disappointed. A part of me is considering just going into the world on my own. The only family that really cares has passed on, what’s the point of hoping my parents would ever consider changing.” You coughed lightly, clearing your throat. This was too much of a therapy session for your taste. “I’ve already made it up in my head that I’m going to wait a year before getting back in school. You know, save any penny I can. These past four years even with aid and scholarship money has been hell. I’m going to be 24 and there’s still just so much to do.”

“I can’t say I envy you,” Hannibal shook his head, “The uncertainty in those years is unmatched.”

“It’s hard to imagine you uncertain of anything. You seem to always know exactly what to do.”

Hannibal scoffed lightly, “Only because time has granted me certain wisdoms. When I was younger I was lucky enough to appeal to someone with my artistic talent and stories of my past. Though I’d like to think it was the former that earned me my scholarship. I may not have had the exact struggles you did, but we’ve all been through situations we needed to push past. It comes in time. Once you get there, you’ll go through life with grace.”

“Well, I don’t have any reservations about using my past. Would you be my mentor?” You joked, for the most part.

“A five year forward request,” he mused, “Are you certain you’d enjoy me that much as a mentor?”

“Someone is gonna have to teach me the ropes,” you shrugged, “We’re more than comfortable with each other and I already know how pleasurable time with you can be, why not learn a couple of things from your infinite wisdom?”

His lip quirked, “Glad to know your thoughts are nothing less than wholesome.”

“Only the purest.”

You ate your dinner as he asked questions. It was a bit unfair, probably, you knew he had helped form the test. Then again, you knew your boss and it was more than likely all of Hannibal’s work. So this little run was sure to be a preview of what to expect. Still, the questions he asked were far from simple, despite how much you studied. Sometimes a raised brow would tell you, you needed to think again. Other times you’d get a soft praise thrown your way that would immediately make you think of when he was against you.

“A few more for me, darling girl. You’re doing so well.”

Your face heated up as you remembered the exact moment he said something nearly identical.

Hannibal looked at you over a paper, a smirk playing on his lips, “You’re looking a bit distracted, are you alright?”

“You know what you did, jerk.”

“Do I?” He laughed.

You shook your head, “You’re unbelievable.”

Hannibal continued grading, rattling off questions off the top of his head. You mind however, wandered. Answering his questions absentmindedly, more preoccupied with memories than the matter at hand. The way his hands felt. His breath against your chest as he chased his high. The gentleness the morning after as he helped you into his clothes, giving you a last kiss before breakfast. A lingering regret at not getting to thank him back properly. He would be the perfect distraction now that you thought of it.

“I won’t help you if you prefer to daydream.”

“I wouldn’t be daydreaming if you didn’t decide to help me in the first place.”

“Touché.”

“Think I’m all done studying. I’m tired of it,” you sighed, stretching, “I want to do something else.”

Hannibal looked at you, brow raised. “What’s that sweet girl?”

You shook off some nerves. As much as the two of you had already done, he was still an intimidating man. His eyes followed as you stood and walked around the desk. Hannibal brought your hand up to his lips. You trailed it along his jaw, feeling the rough stubble that just started coming in, buying yourself some time to steady yourself. A raised brow questioned what you’d do next, but otherwise he leaned into your touch.

“I wanted to thank you for everything. For how good you are to me.”

“I don’t expect anything in return,” he assured.

“Yeah, I know,” you sunk to your knees in front of him, tracing your fingertips up and down his thigh slowly, looking up at him, “but I want to take care of you too.”

He toyed with a strand of your hair, looking almost bored as he leaned back in his chair. “That isn’t necessary, little one, I enjoyed watching you.” Still there was a glint of something in his eye that told you he was interested, merely teasing with the show he just wanted something more from you.

You bit your lip, pondering at what he had deemed missing. The title. A thing that had slipped past your lips embarrassingly but one he had used with stupor throughout the night. Hands settling on his knees, you pushed them apart so you could settle there more comfortably. A pout, “Please, daddy, I’ve wanted to since we met.”

“Always an eager plaything,” he sighed checking the clock on the wall, “I suppose daddy can make some time for his girl.”

That was enough for you to start undoing his belt. Despite the bored act, his half hard cock betrayed him and told you exactly how much he had been interested. You palmed him through his boxers, he didn’t give you the pleasure of hearing anything from him, but that’s alright you didn’t mind earning it. Once you were satisfied with how hard he was, you pulled him out of the boxers. Leaning back on your knees you took it in, unsure if you could fit the length of it in completely.

Hannibal took in your hesitation. Using a finger he tilted your head up to look at him in the eye. “We don’t have to do anything if you aren’t okay with it now. A change of mind is more than alright.”

“No. It’s not that I want to,” you licked your lips, as if to prove how okay you were you wrapped your hand around him, thumb tracing a prominent vein, “I was just wondering if it would fit all the way in.”

He let out an amused huff, shaking his head, “I’m sure you’ll try your best, ridiculous girl.”

Leaning in you pressed a kiss to the head. Just a little more time to work up the courage. You kissed along the shaft, mapping out every vein. Your tongue traced its way back up, catching a taste of precome that had beaded on the head. An encouraging hand threaded itself in your hair, never pushing for more than you were willing to give.

A knock at the door, interrupts the scene.

“A moment,” Hannibal calls out to the person. “Get under the desk,” he said as he started to hide away any evidence that he was with anyone. Your appearance wasn’t completely ruined, not to his taste at least, but the messed up lipstick and slightly ruined hair wouldn’t take much mental work for someone to come to the correct conclusion.

Taking his instruction you got under the desk as he fixed his own appearance, suit jacket over his arm to hide himself. Walking over to the door, “Mr. Henderson,” he greeted, pleasantly, “Please, come in.”

“Hannibal, sorry about stopping by so late,” you heard the door close as the two walked over.

“Nonsense. If anything, the company is welcomed.” Hannibal took his seat, pulling his chair in close, to make sure you were hidden away.

“I was actually going to see if I could convince you to stay.”

Mischief sparked as you grew bored with their droning conversation. Thankfully he had decided to get rid of his belt fully. It didn’t take much to free him again. He spread his legs, attempting to give you the most space possible under the cramped desk. You pumped him in your hand, getting him back to how you had him. The other hand tugged softly at his balls. You wouldn’t be able to put him in your mouth properly with this angle. Instead you satisfied yourself with sucking on the sides of his cock.

“The students adore you,” the other man countered whatever Hannibal had said, “Honestly your classes are killing Jacob’s with every exam.”

“I take great pride in my students. They are an extension of myself. How well they do is a direct reflection of my skill as a teacher,” he sighed, “I have a couple of people in mind that could fill my roll, I’ll ask people to see who’s interested.”

“Still Jacob’s is slacking too much, I may take away his student aid privileges. I see her around here more often than I ever see him.”

You gave a particularly hard suck to a seemingly sensitive spot as his hips had stuttered ever so slightly. No evidence of any misconduct came from his voice as he said, “Oh her? She is a very good girl. Motivated. Never complains about a thing.”

You felt Hannibal throb against your mouth. Taking a break you leaned your head on Hannibal’s thigh, as fun as it would to mess with him more, you knew he took great pride in his social image. Besides, you had wanted Hannibal’s full attention anyway. His hand came down to your hair, subtly showing that he was still paying attention to you to the best of his abilities.

They talked a while longer, before Henderson finally left. Hannibal had pulled out a stack of papers, motioning like he was going to work on grading, and politely asked him to lock the door as he left. When it was clear he pushed his chair away from the desk. You made your way out smiling at him.

“Someone seems very happy with themselves.”

“You enjoyed it.”

“But did you ask permission?” Hannibal asked as worked himself lazily.

You faltered slightly under his gaze, “Well...no.”

“And do you think you deserve any type of reward for that stunt?”

“...I hope so.”

“I’ll forgive it,” he decided, “only because you’re so eager and we never set ground rules. But now it’s on my terms.”

“Yes, sir,” you nodded obediently, not wanting to receive one of Hannibal's punishments just yet.

Hannibal used your hair to pull you closer. You stumbled on your knees catching yourself on his thighs. “Since you were so unsure if you could fit in daddy earlier, after that little stunt, I’m sure you’re feeling better now. Aren’t you?”

The hand in your hair pushed you down. You closed your mouth around the tip. Hannibal groaned quietly, letting you work your way down. Bobbing your head you took more of him deeper every time, but those last two inches were proving difficult. Gripping your hair, he pulled you off of him.

His breath was coming in quick pants, brushing your hair away from your face. “Do you need help, darling?”

“I can’t fit it daddy.” It came out in a breathless whine.

“Yes, you can. Be a good little mouth and let me do the work.”

Again he pushed you onto his cock. This time he took control. His hand kept you in place as he thrusted his hips up. Without the hesitation you had, he fit himself in quickly. Grinding into your mouth he let you choke around it for a while before pulling you up for air.

“See?” He choked out as he used you again, “Fucking perfect mouth… Daddy’s good girl… taking care of me like she asked.”

His grunted praises and moans were enough to excuse the tear prickling your eyes. Over and over he used your mouth to it’s extent. Seeming to enjoy it most when you did choke on him. Hannibal stopped before he came. Pulling you up off the floor and onto his lap. Wiping away the stray tears that had fallen.

“You’re too good for me.” He kissed your cheek.

“You haven’t finished.” You caught your breath as you curled into his chest. His cologne comforted you. The increasingly familiar scent carved a special place in you.

“I’ll finish later,” he promised, dropping another kiss onto your head, “At the moment, I want to make sure you’re alright. I got carried away.”

“I’m not porcelain, Hannibal,” you intertwined your fingers with his, “I like it when you’re in charge… It gives me a chance to not think of anything.”

“Even so these situations require a lot of trust from your partner.”

You shrugged, as you decided to be honest, “At the moment you seem to be the only person I trust. Besides, you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Let’s hope I don’t disappoint you.”

“I can’t see you ever doing that.”

That night Hannibal had taken you home. You received the same treatment you had received the first night you stayed at his house. Mostly you thought it was an apology of some sort for treating you roughly in his office. By some good grace both of you had classes later in the day, allowing you to enjoy the softer side of Hannibal in the morning again.

A new sweater of his joined the one that resides on your futon. You hadn’t thought twice about packing them away when you emptied your apartment out.

Life in New York was eventful to say the least. Different but fun. It had been six months since you had graduated. Your friend from high school shared an even shabbier apartment together. You made a couple friends. Picked up jobs at a bar and a bookstore.

“You’re not any fun,” Alex complained as she adjusted her makeup, “You never want to go out with me.”

“I’m tired,” you complained. “Anyway, why would I want to go to a bar when I work at one?”

“To wreak hell on someone that’s stuck in your usual gig.”

“Have fun with the guys.”

She attempted to pull you off the couch a couple more times to no avail. In truth you were happy to have a moment of peace. All honesty she was the driving force in you actually living your life and not just working the entire time. You really did love her for all of that and the experiences you had. However there were times for breaks to be had from everything. And tonight was one of them.

You showered, got dressed in a sweater and shorts, heated up some leftovers. Throwing on a bad 80’s horror flick, you spent your night in splendor. A break was rare and you were gonna use your relaxation time to its extent. Sleep overtook you sometime in the night, only to be woken up by the annoying shrill sound of your phone.

“Al, baby, I love you so damn much, but if you’re gonna bitch at me about not going out tonight. I just might be tempted to murder you,” you muttered sleepily, “I could get away with it.”

“Sweet girl, is that any way to speak to your friends?” A voice you hadn’t heard in a while asked, disappointment clear in his tone.

“Hannibal,” you said lamely, slightly ashamed that that was the first thing he heard from you in months. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you. It’s… It’s been a while.”

“It has been,” he agreed, “In fact, I called to ask if you would like to come to a dinner party.”

You looked at the clock, noting just how late it had been. “You called at two in the morning to ask me to a dinner party?”

“I’ve been busy and you didn’t leave an address for an invitation. It was… spur of the moment.”

“I missed you too,” you sighed, deciding to be the one to voice it, “Yeah, I’d love to go over.”

“Are you planning on staying with me?”

You sighed dramatically, “Suppose I can give a lonely old man some company. What, you couldn’t find anyone as entertaining as me in Baltimore?”

“I’ve got specific tastes.”

“Is that right?”

Alex walked in, the last part of the conversation hitting her ears and the alcohol in her system making her louder. “Is that the daddy? Does he know he’s ruined men for you? Ugh, can you get him over here to loosen you up? I’d appreciate it that so much.”

“I never said ruined, I just sa-“ you realized Hannibal was still on the phone, “Just please, go take a shower, I’ll make you anything you want to eat if you promise to stay quiet.”

Surprisingly she complied, only saying egg sandwich with cheese and bacon in response.

“Ruined?”

“Couldn’t let that skate by?”

“You’re the one talking about me.”

You coughed. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve got specific taste too. Just something happened with someone and I don’t know, I couldn’t get into it that same way. Like with you. They needed me to tell them exactly how… It was just awkward. It wasn’t satisfying. They were nice though.”

“You compare my experience to their experience inexperience,” he deduced. “You enjoy knowing I’ve got everything under control.”

You tried to shake away the blush. “So it seems we’re stuck in similar positions.”

“We are.”

“Hannibal,” you heard someone call out, “When were you thinking of joining us? We didn’t bother you so much you had to leave us that long.”

He asked him for a moment.

“Seems like someone wants your attention,” you commented.

“Does it bother you?”

“Not at all. Just friends having fun right? It would be hypocritical considering I just told you of my night with someone else. As long as it’s nothing serious with whoever that was, we’re fine.”

“They’re nothing. Someone’s too loud nephew. In fact I think he’s rather rude. You know I can’t stand people like that.”

“You’ll survive. Get home safe.”

“I’ll send you the directions in a moment. Have a goodnight little one.”

“‘Night daddy,” the long unused term of endearment fell from your lips easily.

“‘Night daddy,” Alex sighed dreamily from the bathroom door, “God, is the dick really that good? How could it be?”

You hung up the phone. “Can you please not do that next time? He’s really particular about things.”

She raised her hands up in defense. “Whoa, there. He can handle a little joke at his expense when he’s already been down your throat. Now where’s my sandwich?”

“I’m serious Al.” You sighed when you got up from the couch to get to work on your promise. “He makes me feel like I need to be all proper.”

“You’re fine, doll. A dime if I’ve ever seen one. I’m not gonna ruin this for you, if he randomly decided to call you this late,” she took a seat on the counter, taking the water you handed her gratefully, “Do you want that to be a long term thing?”

“Nah,” you threw the bread into the toaster, “I couldn’t live his life. Sure, I like him and I do think he’s fun to hang around. But it just feels like something that will simmer down eventually. We’ll probably meet up a couple more times and it’ll be done. It’s not like we do anything more than end up in bed and sweet talk.”

“I’m telling you, we’d be set if you asked him to be your sugar daddy. Please ask him to take care of you and be his call girl.”

“How about you?” You asked, changing the topic, “Any pretty girls?”

“This one chick at work,” she shook her head, “Fucking goddess of a woman, LN, I’m telling you. I got it bad. She’s got me waiting for her with her coffee orders in the morning like some kind of obedient little puppy.”

“You know her coffee order.”

“Exactly!”

“How’s the commitment issues?”

“I’m gonna have to fucking work through them. Unlike someone, I think I wanna try out the long term thing.”

“Hey!” You cracked the eggs into the oil, “I’m just not up for it right now.”

“Work him out of your system. We’re supposed to be having fun this year.”

You sighed, “I’m trying.”

“I’m telling you we find you a decent lay. You won’t need to be fucking around with that guy.” Your phone chimed. Alex grabbed it off the counter. “The devil works fast doesn’t he? Address and day of the party. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like. Says he’ll buy you a cute little number.”

“No, tell him I got it.”

“Thank you, daddy. I’ll make it worth your wild. Wink. Send.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I still think he’s ugly,” she shrugged, tossing your phone over, “May as well get a cute dress out of sleeping with him.”

“He’s not ugly. I’ve seen the people you’ve brought home,” You scoffed, handing over the plate.

“Reggie is a fun time! Fuck I miss Reggie.”

“Work chick,” you reminded her.

“Right right.” She argued before taking a bite of the sandwich. “Fine, we’ve both had our questionable older partner moments. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not.”

“Still never called her mommy and that’s a win in my books.”

“I should have never told you that,” you laughed, “I fucking hate you man.”

She pinched your cheek affectionately, “You had your chance to get rid of me. The return policy ran out. You’re stuck. Congratulations.”

“How long until you expire?”

Alex pretended to count it through. “We’re looking at at least 50 years more, if we’re lucky.”

You hummed, “Are you accounting for possible sickness or accidents?”

“I’m immortal for 50 years in between. No arguments at this time please.”

Next Chapter

Tag list: @charc0al-grey

#hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal x reader #slasher imagine #slasher x reader #Reader #smut

443 notes · View notes

zodiyack · 3 years

Text

In Regards Of My Ex

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst

Words: 2,125

Summary: Niklaus believes deceitful gossip from Aurora De Martel about his wife and takes his anger out on her. As a result, Y/n leaves and finds comfort with Cami and Davina, who call in backup to confront the big bad hybrid about his big bad dumbassery.

Note: I’ve been in a fluffy mood as of recently HOWEVER this idea was sparked when I was feeling angsty™ so...sorry but also not sorry?

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @simonsbluee, @darling-i-read-it, @jenepleurepasbaby, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @dpaccione

Masterlist | The Originals Masterlist

Part One. Part Two. Part Three.

“That wife of yours has been sneaking around with my brother. Breaking more hearts than just yours from what I can see.”

“I suppose some people just can’t see the worthiness of the king in front of them. If I were your wife, I wouldn’t be like Y/n. I’d be committed you and never give you fib tales like her.”

“You are aware that Y/n has been plotting something nefarious against you, aren’t you?”

“I know you wanted to marry someone just as sinister as you, but perhaps you should’ve checked where her loyalty lied before tying that knot.”

Aurora fed him stories such as these, and many more, each conclusion of the lies spewing from her mouth something appalling about Y/n. At first, Klaus didn’t listen, but as her stories grew worse and worse, the faux feeling of treachery intensified. He knew it was unwise to believe anything that came from the spiteful, jealous woman...yet, his distress caused pain to strike his heart and he yearned to know the truth.

Although, in this case, the “truth” wasn’t actually very truthful.

She often told him things like that Lucien was going after his girl for the second time, first with her when she had her chance and now, his beloved wife. Klaus merely brushed it off with an honest “he tries and I’ll stake him first chance I get”. However, Aurora wasn’t finished yet. She continued to lie and deceive Niklaus about the woman who she accused of replacing her in his life. The envy and loathing Aurora felt for Y/n was her motivator, but the woman was too far up a wall to need one in the first place.

“Are you telling me the truth?” He growled, keeping his eyes trained at the wall in front of them.

“Why do you ask?”

“I need to know I can trust your bold claims. So answer me, Aurora, are you telling me the truth?”

That smug little grin, masking her deluding ways. “Of course, Nik. I would never lie to you.” Her welcome into his trust was unsurprisingly taken advantage of when she traced her finger down his arm and then brought her hand up his abdomen slowly. Klaus shoved her invasive hand off of his chest though, giving her a warning glare.

“Thank you for informing me.” That was all he said to her before he made his way out of the room in the most hurry she’d ever seen him in.

Aurora smiled conceitedly. Her plans were on the right track. Whilst Nik didn’t have the same feelings for her now as he did way back during the beginning of their story, but Aurora was determined to stir those feelings from the dead as vampirism did him and her.

She drawled under her breath, “I will have you again, Nik.” her mischievous smile grew wider, “I will have you again, and nothing can stop me this time.”

“Blasphemy!” Niklaus shouted, veins popping out from the rage coursing in his system. He neared Y/n again, the slight fear in her eyes drawing a pause for a second, guilt stilling him, but his anger took the reigns once more.

“It’s not blasphemy! I would never lie to you!”

“The falsity of your deception proves otherwise, love.” He smirked, raising his brows as to question if she would battle his words yet again. Proof was what he needed, but his vexation had drowned out all logic, including his ability to see the proof he wanted so desperately.

“What deception? What falsehood do you believe to have come from my mouth? When I married you, I vowed to be truthful and loyal. You of all people on this fucking earth should know I always keep a vow.” She narrowed her eyes at him. The betrayal he thought he felt was temporary and fabricated, but hers was 100% genuine and seething within her.

“You say that but if you were indeed an untrue person, your answer would be no different.”

“Why do you insist on proving me a traitor!? What has pushed you so far past your breaking point that you actually accuse me, your wife, as a viper?”

“Don’t you pretend like you don’t know the malicious schemes you’ve plotted against me or the affairs you’ve had with men who obviously aren’t your husband!” He couldn’t stop himself now; “I’ve loved you for centuries and you decide to be disloyal and ill-natured?!”

“Says who?!”

“Says Aurora!” After the words flew from his mouth, a tiny part of him realized just how fucked up it sounded. Just how fucked up it was that he believed her over his wife, but the hybrid was stubborn. He was too stubborn to change his belief or admit his fallacious accusations were unjust without proper evidence.

Y/n knew Aurora and Klaus’ story. Her knowledge of the ancient and long forgotten tale made her reaction thousands of times worse. “Aurora? ...Huh. You choose to believe her- that manipulative, lying bitch, over me? I thought you knew me better than that.” She wiped away a rebellious tear, “I thought I knew you better than that.”

Disappointment hung heavy on her features, drawing a feeling of shame from Klaus. Y/n glared at him one last time, her knitted brows and vaguely teary eyes evidence of the heavy-heartedness that overwhelmed her. She bit the inside of her mouth and shook her head disapprovingly before turning and walking out the front gate-doors of the Mikaelson mansion. Klaus was alone.

The sounds of Davina’s giggles echoed, Cami sitting in front of her and chuckling heartfully as well. Their laughter died off when they noticed Y/n sulking through the front doors of Rousseau's. The place was empty aside from the two women having drinks and a friendly chat. Then Y/n entered and found a seat. The atmosphere, once cheery, suddenly felt melancholy.

“Hey, Y/n, you alright?” Camille’s smile was wiped from her lips. She felt empathy for Klaus’ wife and, as a friendly person in general, she felt overcome with the need to help solve the complication that made her feel so down in the dumps.

“I’m-” She was ready to say fine, Davina and Cami knew it, but she broke down in tears before she could even shape an “o” with her lips. Both women jumped up immediately and sat in the seats beside Y/n. Though Davina couldn’t stand Klaus, she actually liked Y/n and seeing her hurt sent searing pain into her own heart.

“It’s okay, hun,” Cami wrapped an arm over Y/n’s shoulder, her other hand rubbing her other shoulder and arm comfortingly, “take as long as you need, there’s no pressure, no rush, none of that. We’ve got you.”

And so they did. The two women took turns holding Y/n as she cried, and before long, she was ready to talk. She explained Klaus’ anger and the source of their fight, the source of the fake news he’d lashed out because of. Davina and Cami shared a glance when Aurora was mentioned, both women already hating her but equally despising her even more now. Y/n sobbed, crying into Cami’s shoulder about wanting Klaus to just believe her. She said she loved him and because of that, she felt pained by his lack of belief in her.

“He’s not worth it if he can’t see how wrong that decision was-”

“I know, but he’s my husband. I vowed to love him always and forever, to never leave his side, and I intend to keep that vow...so long as he doesn’t do anything to fuck it up any more than he already has.”

The sun began to sink into the dark, not fully quite yet, but still creating it’s beautiful array of colors as a final act before disappearing for the night. About halfway through Y/n’s rant, Cami called Hayley and gave her a summary of what she knew so far. A promise of arriving as soon as she could was returned on Hayley’s end before the line went dead and Cami returned to the table.

Still not entirely after sunset yet, Hayley swung open the door to Rousseau's, catching Davina and Y/n off guard. Despite being the one who called her, Cami stayed seated. Y/n and the witch beside her exchanged confused expressions.

“Are you just gonna sit there or are you gonna tell me what the hell I need to do to Klaus?”

Y/n chuckled softly, wiping away more of the salty tears, before standing and walking over to Hayley, greeting her with a hug. “You don’t have to get involved if you don’t want to-”

“No, trust me, I have to and I want to.” She pulled away and dropped her warm smile, giving Y/n the most serious look she could muster. And as she was Hayley Marshall, it was effortlessly pretty fucking serious. “Now, I want you tell me everything,” the mom voice came out to play, “don’t leave a single detail out. Then, we can discuss what we’re going to do about it.”

“Where is he?”

Rebekah had been informed by the pissed off werewolf and bartender everything that had happened, resulting in her becoming equally upset. She welcomed Hayley inside the gates and nodded her head up the stairs. “I haven’t said anything to him, so you’ll be lucky enough to catch him by surprise.”

The werewolf nodded in understanding before pacing toward the stairs irritability. “Thanks.”

“Make it hurt!” Rebekah’s voice faded away as she walked out the gates, leaving Hayley alone to find Niklaus.

Atop the stairs, she found no sign of anyone whatsoever, but that was only on the outside. If Klaus happened to be inside on of the many rooms, she wouldn’t waste her time searching. Instead, she waited, leaning against the railing and doing a breathing exercise Y/n taught her during one lonely full-moon.

After minutes of waiting, Klaus finally walked out of a door and started for the stairs. It wasn’t longer than a minute before he stopped in his tracks and realized he’d missed something. He shot a double take in Hayley’s direction, a puzzled expression quickly finding way to his face. It seemed as though he was contemplating whether or not her unexpected appearance was a good thing or a bad thing.

When he seemingly couldn’t make up his mind, staring a few minutes longer, a heavy sigh left her mouth. She was ticked off with him before, but after hearing everything Y/n had to say, she was furious. No, more than furious. The blood boiling rage was incessantly pounding in her head, all she wanted was cause destruction and pain. A rare thing for her.

But now was not the time to lash out, not yet. She inhaled and exhaled, Hayley shifted on her feet and looked around before turning her head to Klaus and beckoned him over to her with a come-hither motion of her index finger.

“What is it?”

She looked at him, flabbergasted that he’d even ask a question as stupid as that, “What is it? What is it, Klaus?” Hayley slapped him, the man doubling back and blinking in astonishment. And not the good kind.

“How dare you lay your hands on me, you-”

“So you’re gonna yell at me now?” She crossed her arms, and unimpressed look resting upon her face. “You know, personally, I think Y/n is better off without you but she’s broken and has been bawling her eyes out nonstop for hours on end, drinking away all the pain that you’ve formed into a stake and shoved into her chest.”

He stopped, fury fleeing his face as he experienced what felt like her words body-slamming into him.

“And guess who’s been there to pick out the splinters?” She poked her finger against her chest over and over again. “Me!” Her eyes never left his, telling him just how sincere about this she really was. “Me! Cami- even Davina!” Hayley threw her hands in the air, emphasizing the shock that came with the information. “Rebekah’s on her way over now, and I’m sure Elijah will see to it that he comforts his sister-in-law as much as he can, but you?”

“I-”

She cut him off, temper still unquenched, thirsty for vengeance. “Let me finish.” She growled. Hayley looked around the room in attempt to calm herself, but it was to no avail.

“You got her into this mess. I just hope you get both of you guys out of it.” She flicked her eyes back to his, giving him her infamous dead eyed glare. “I really hope you do. And you better do it soon. Because I won’t be there to pick the splinters out for you when she realizes she doesn’t need your sorry ass.”

513 notes · View notes

cjsinkythoughts · 3 years

Text

FATWS One Shot #7 - Revels

Word Count: 2921

Warnings: Cursing, That’s All, it’s a Really Tame One Shot

Setting/Characters: Party Scene in Avengers: Age of Ultron; Lots of Characters so I’m Not Gonna Name Them All

A/N: I know…it’s very late. I wanted to have it out on Friday, but I dunno, guys. My motivation as of late has been very low. I finally decided to just sit down and write tonight. So here it finally is!

This one is pretty mild compared to others. There’s a few feeling things in here, but it’s mainly just the reader hanging out with the team. The ending’s written a bit weird, but I didn’t know what to cut it off because the writers did a nice job of making the Mjolnir scene flow into the scene with Ultron’s appearance, but I didn’t want to write the whole fight with Ultron, I just wanted the lifting scene.

Listen here, though! Prepare yourselves to be conflicted even more with Steve! I made it a lot more…touchy than I was planning on. Don’t come at me! It needs to be done! This’ll be one of the last ones focused on Steve like that though. The next one is reader and Wanda bonding and then after that I don’t have any more planned for AoU, so we’ll be going to Civil War, which is where reader meets Bucky officially. So Bucky’s coming soon!

I’m gonna update my WIP List and - maybe - my One Shot list and post those later, along with a poll because I dunno which series I wanna start on next.

Thank you all so much for your patience, understanding, and support! As always, not beta’d, so please excuse the mistakes, all are mine! Be kind to yourselves and others! Enjoy and stay tuned!

FATWS Series Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

*******

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

You set your bag down and looked at your phone, vibrating from where you just left it on the counter. You looked at the time and squinted. Seven. You supposed it wasn’t too late, but you weren’t expecting any calls.

Tired, your feet dragged as you moved across the room to get your phone. You were helping Fury set up the Helicarrier again while still remaining “dead” to everyone. It was the last thing you were doing before joining the Avengers full time. You were a bit hesitant to be in the spotlight after all these years, but after much pressuring from your team, especially a certain blonde, you finally caved. It was time for a change anyways. It might even be good for you.

Speaking of blondes, Bubba flashed across your screen, a picture of him with some scruff that you took one day in spite of his protests because you’d never seen him with a beard before lighting up behind the contact name.

You answered it, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your hands as you did so. “Hi, bubs. What’s-”

“Where are you? I miss you. Are you coming soon?”

You chuckled at his whines, an eyebrow raising as you processed his words. “Whaddya mean? I’m at my place. Where am I supposed to be?”

“Honey!” You giggled at his groan, finding it amusing how childish he could be at times. “The party? Tonight? Remember? You promised you’d come. I don’t wanna be here without you.”

“Oh shit,” you hiss out. “That’s tonight?” Moving across the kitchen to check your calendar, you scrunch up your face when you see ‘Avenger’s Tower 6 pm’ written in the square. “It’s Saturday. Aw, Stevie. I totally forgot.”

“Oh. So…are you - are you not coming, then?”

Frowning at his fallen tone, you shake your head. “I’ll be there. Just…give me a bit.”

“No, no. It’s okay. You sound tired. You don’t have to-”

“I’m on my way, Steve. I did promise after all. I’m an hour out.”

You could hear his surprise in his voice. “An hour? You’re not in D.C.?”

“I’m a little bit upstate. Just in a safehouse while I help Fury work on something.”

He let out a contemplative hum from the other side of the line. “That secret project you still won’t tell me anything about?”

A smile appeared across your lips as you walked to the bedroom to change into something a little more appropriate, settling for a comfortable romper instead of dealing with a dress. “You know I can’t, bubs. You haven’t told anyone, right?”

“No ma’am.”

You giggle softly. “Alright. Thank you. You’ll find out soon, probably. It’s almost done. Promise.”

“Then you’ll come live here? With me - the team, I mean? I miss you. The team missed you. On the raid.”

“Oh yeah. How was it?”

“Get here and I’ll tell you.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m coming, I’m coming. See you then, bubba.”

“Okay, honey. See ya then.”

*****************

It was nearly nine when you got to the Tower, but any party thrown by Stark didn’t end until at least ten, so you knew you were fine. Just…fashionably late. A concept you knew Tony understood and you wouldn’t hesitate to remind him if he brought it up.

You were pleasantly surprised by how tame the party was. Sure there were a hundred people you doubted even Tony knew, but no flashing lights, the music wasn’t blaring, and no one was grinding on anyone. Everyone was just talking, drinking, and having a good time.

“Hey! There you are! Capsicle said he called you, but that was hours ago!”

Speak of the devil. You grinned and let Tony pull you into a hug before taking the drink he offered. “Yeah, well, I had a few things to do today.”

His eyebrow quirked up. “A few things, huh? Anything I should know about?”

“Nope!” You popped your lips and gave him a smirk. “Not everything’s about you, Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah, well, we missed you this week. Fun raid.” He looked you up and down and nodded, gesturing to your outfit. “Alright, you know what? I accept this. This is okay. Not what I had in mind, but you pull it off.”

You laughed, shoving his shoulder playfully. “It’s comfortable, okay? Where’s Steve?”

The billionaire rolled his eyes and gave you a look. “Don’t worry your pretty little head. He’s over playing pool with Wilson. C’mon! I wanna get you drunk and complain about my perfect, heroic, billionaire life to my favorite teammate!”

“I just need to tell him I’m here.” You snicker. “And don’t let anyone here you say that. I don’t want my rep to become Tony’s favorite.”

He chuckled with you and gave you another squeeze. “Alright, alright. Come find me later, though. I do have something I need to show you.”

You shook your head, already knowing where the conversation was heading. “Tony! No! I don’t need a suit! Thank you, I appreciate it, but I’m really okay. I like fighting in sweatpants.”

“Fine!” He huffed out. “But at least let me show you some designs I came up with. I put a lot of hard work into them, you know.”

Tapping his chest, you nodded. “I’m sure you did. I’ll come find you and you can show me, but that’s it.”

He smirked, drawing an ‘x’ over his heart with his finger. “Cross my heart.”

“I’m serious, Tony!” You point at him as he started walking away. He just blew a kiss towards you, making you laugh and roll your eyes again.

Turning, you scanned the room for the pool table where, supposedly, Steve was playing with Sam, who you had no idea was gonna be here. You’d been helping him out with the whole James - Bucky, you reminded yourself - Barnes thing during your free time. No such luck yet. The man was literally a ghost, even for you.

You couldn’t stop the smile on your lips when you finally caught sight of him, his brown leather jacket hugging his shoulders a grin on his face as Sam talked to him about something. Quickly making your way over, your arms wrapped around that ridiculously tiny waist, crossing over his stomach. You felt him tense at the sudden contact, before he relaxed at a kiss to the nape of his neck and spun around.

The beam he gave you made your heart flip, his muscled arms winding around your neck. “Y/N! You made it!”

His boyish excitement made you laugh. “I told you I’d come. Hi, Sam.”

Sam nodded and waved. “What’s good, Y/N?”

“Who’s winning?” Slipping out of Steve’s hold, you leaned over the table to study the games process.

“We just started a new one.” Steve informed you. “Wanna join?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You sure you wanna be embarrassed in front of all these nice people?”

“Oooh!” Sam winced. “Smack! Alright. Put your money where your mouth is, Y/L/N. Ten bucks says I win.”

“You’re on, Wilson.”

A few more drinks, a couple games, and thirty extra bucks later, Tony called you over impatiently. Steve gave you a questioning look as you heated up, Tony waving his arms dramatically and shouting your name. God, he’s so embarrassing.

“He wants me to look at suit designs.”

Steve frowned at your explanation. “I thought you told him no?”

You chuckled. “I did. I’ll be right back, bubs.” After kissing his cheek, you head over to Tony. From there, you end up bouncing around from teammate to teammate, laughing and joking around with them.

Until Steve dragged you back with him again. “Excuse me.” He interrupted you, Clint, and Natasha’s chatter, grabbing your elbow and taking the drink you had in your hand. “I’m stealing you.”

“C’mon, man! It’s called sharing!”

Natasha laughed and nodded in agreement with Clint’s statement. “Everyone’s gotta have a turn, Rogers.”

Steve hummed, walking backwards and pulling you as you giggled in amusement. “You just had your turn, Romanoff.”

“Sorry guys.” You shrugged when the two looked at you incredulously. “Captain’s orders.”

“Damn right.” Steve nodded firmly.

“Watch your language!” Clint shouted with a pointed finger.

You raised an amused eyebrow at Steve’s groan. “Your language? They do know that you have, quite possibly, the worst mouth on the planet, right?”

He sighed, pulling you to the side of the room and wrapping his arms around your waist. “It’s something that happened on the mission. Which you would know if you were there.”

“Steven.”

He blinked innocently at you. “What?” At your pointed look, he let out a sigh, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “Did I do something wrong? Is that why you’re avoiding me?”

“Who said I’m avoiding you?”

“C’mon, honey.” He lifted his head, his eyebrows furrowed together. “Don’t hurt me even more. I know you have.”

You shook your head, lips turning down and hand raising to cup his cheek. “Stevie, I’m not. I promise. I’ve just…I’ve just been busy.”

He pouted. “With Fury?”

Giving him a weird look you shook your head. “No. I mean, yes, but I’ve also been helping Sam out with your friend while you help the team with the rest of the HYDRA bases. You know that. What’s going on with you?”

“I’m sorry.” He sighed, ducking his head to your shoulder again. “I’ve just missed you.”

“I know, bubba. I’ve missed you too.”

The real truth was you had been avoiding him. Not on purpose. Kinda. You just felt something different around him. Something you’d never dealt with before. And you didn’t want to deal with it now, so you haven’t been. It was why you were so hesitant about becoming a full time Avenger. Well, that and the fact that you’d been in the shadows for a decade and you weren’t sure how well you’d do in the light.

“Where’s Sam?”

“He had to head home. Long drive. His excuse, not mine.”

You gasped in offense. “And he didn’t even say bye?! Rude!”

Steve chuckled, his nose brushing against the skin of your throat, breath tickling your collarbone. “I’m sure he’ll call you in the morning or something. Apologize for leaving so abruptly.”

You hummed, swallowing the lump that suddenly appeared in your throat. “Tell me about the language thing. What happened?”

He groaned, but straightened and told you about him accidentally scolding Tony, before he proceeded to tell you about the rest of the mission, including the Maximoff twins.

“Why is it that war always seems to breed more war?” You asked with a sigh.

“They’re just kids trying to do what’s right.”

“We all start out that way, don’t we?” You shook your head. Kids. they shouldn’t be fighting in a war. They shouldn’t have to deal with that. “It’s just a shame.” Your voice is muffled by his shirt after you pressed against his chest.

“Yeah.” He sighed out. “Wanna go get a drink?”

Pulling back from him and looking around, you noted that most guests had already gone and it was dwindling down to just the Avengers and a couple allies. “Yeah. Wanna sit down too. I’m kinda tired.”

“Alright, honey. Let’s go sit down.”

It wasn’t even half an hour later when you were all sitting around the middle of the room, everyone else having gone, but Dr. Helen Cho, Rhodey, Maria, and the team. You were in the same boat as Helen, who was basically passed out on an armchair. You’re legs thrown over Steve’s lap, stretched out to let your feet rest on Thor’s thigh, who was on the chair on the other side of the captain. You were hugging Steve’s arm, your head resting against his shoulder, a small smile of content across your features as you listened to the team banter and tease.

You started laughing at Clint’s comments towards Thor’s hammer while spinning the drumstick he had for whatever reason. “Ah, whosoever be he worthy shall haveth the power! Whatever, man! It’s a trick!”

You and Steve exchanged amused grins as Thor challenged Clint, who stood up with no hesitation and headed to the hammer.

“This is gonna be good.” You chirped, taking the bottle Steve handed you as the archer stopped in front of where it was placed on the table.

Clint stuck his tongue out at you, before turning back to Thor and gripping the handle. He tugged for a moment, grunting, before laughing in slight embarrassment. Chuckling, you snuggled closer to Steve’s side, your eyes feeling heavy. He turned his head to nose your temple and kiss your cheek.

“Oh brother.” You giggled, sitting up with interest as Tony stood up and unbuttoned his suit jacket.

“Alright, so if I lift it, I-I then rule Asgard?” Tony asked in clarification, slipping his hand through the strap.

“Yes, of course.” Thor confirmed with an amused smirk, shooting you a wink when you nudged his knee with your foot.

Tony braced himself, setting his foot on the table. “I will be reinstituting prima nocta.”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. “Oh God, Tony.” Steve squeezed your knee with a slight chuckle as the billionaire tried lifting it to no avail. You gave him a weird look, watching him leave the room, before turning to Steve. “What’s he-?”

“Alright! Let’s try this again!”

Another fit of laughter left you and the team when Tony strutted back in with his Iron Man glove on. And when that didn’t work, Rhodey joined him with his War Machine glove.

Your eyes were watering and you tried holding in your laughter, but you couldn’t help it, pressing your face into Steve’s arm to muffle the sounds. You felt his shoulders shake with silent chuckles, which didn’t help your own.

When Bruce went up, an awkward silence filled the air after he tried Hulking out, but then you started laughing again.

“Your turn, bubba.” You nudged the blonde, who gave you a look, before shrugging and patting your thigh.

“You gotta get off then, honey.”

You rolled your eyes but swung your legs off him, letting him stand up. He rolled his sleeves up, stepping up to Mjolnir, a few encouragements from the team, before pulling on the hammer. You thought you saw it shake a little, but Steve yanked some more and it didn’t move, so you figured you were imagining it.

Steve sighed and let go, putting his hands up in surrender with a grin like the good sport he was. Thor laughed. “Nothing.”

You shrugged at the super soldier who plopped back down besides you as the others tried getting Natasha to go up. “You tried.”

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms and leaning back. “Well if Romanoff isn’t going…your turn.”

“Wh-what?” Your eyes went wide.

“I did it.” He gestured to the hammer. “Now you gotta.”

“Hold on, hold on. We didn’t agree on th-”

“Honey.” He gave you a little pout, cocking his head to the hammer. “C’mon. Just a tug.”

You narrowed your eyes, but your lips turned up and you straightened off the couch. “This is peer pressure. Captain America, everyone.” He chuckled as you stepped over to Mjolnir. “It’s not gonna work.”

Tony snorted. “Not with that attitude.”

“C’mon, Tones. If none of you could.”

The billionaire shrugged with a grin. “Never know if you don’t try.”

You deadpanned at him, gripping the handle and trying, in vain, to pull it. You didn’t put nearly as much effort as everyone else. “Wow. Look at that. What a surprise.”

“What was that?! You barely touched it!”

Giving a shrug, you started back to your seat. “I’m guessing if you’re worthy or whatever, it wouldn’t take that much to lift it.” You fell onto the couch, your head landing in Steve’s lap as you looked upside down at Thor and pointed at him. “But I do have a question for you.” The god looked at you in interest, gesturing for you to continue. “What does worthy mean? Like, what makes a person worthy to lift it? You couldn’t lift it a while back - I know, I read the files. SHIELD agent, remember?” You added when you saw him open his mouth to question you.

You blinked at him curiously, tilting your head, watching as his brow furrowed. Tony cackled and clapped at the silence in answer. “Oooh! She got you! All difference to the Man Who Wouldn’t Be King, but it’s rigged. And the lack of response to Y/N’s question just makes it more obvious.”

“That’s not what I meant-”

“You bet your ass.”

You rolled your eyes, letting it go as Maria teased Steve about Clint’s foul language. “Did you tell everyone about that?” Tony ignored Steve’s question and continued to ride on Thor and his hammer.

“Why are they trying to make sense of it?” You questioned, highly entertained, but also very tired, turning to press against Steve’s stomach.

“It’s Tony. I couldn’t tell you. C’mere.” Steve shifted you so that you were sitting up, but he was holding you more comfortably. “Try getting some sleep.”

You hummed and nodded against him, but a high pitched whine made you wince and stand up, Steve unconsciously standing a bit in front of you. A suit of Tony’s, damaged with wires hanging down and oil leaking out or places that didn’t have metal keeping them in, came in and you inwardly sighed at the bad feeling tugging at your gut.

So much for sleep.

***********

All Works Taglist (Open):

@happygoreading @bibliophilewednesday @breadqueen95 @marvelettesassemble @w-wolfhxrd @the-larry-romance @abitofeverythinggg

#cjswriting #fatws series oneshots #fatws series oneshot 7 #fatws series #falcon and the winter soldier series oneshots #revels oneshot #steve rogers x reader #kinda #💛🧭#❤🐦💙🦾⏪

189 notes · View notes

legends-live-in-memories · 3 years

Text

Why Now?

AYO its ya girl back with more biodad!bruce wayne. I bring you all day 4! I highly recommending reading this after day 1 cuz it takes place right after it.

Maribat Masterlist AO3 @maribat-bdbwm

Day 1

Word count: 1.2k words

Summary:

She was… she was so beautiful. Bruce could only wish she was truly his.

But why now? Why keep it a secret for years?

The aftermath of 'First Impressions' from Bruce's perspective.

BD!Bruce Wayne Month Day 4- Bonding

without further ado:

Bruce had always thought that his crusade for justice would leave him lonely, removed from the world, protecting it from the shadows. Taking on the fate of the world, his focus primarily condensed to just his city, did not create opportunities to form meaningful connections. Yet he made them anyway. Finding camaraderie in the Justice League and family in his children. Yes, his children. His very stupid children whom he loves very much. Who were keeling over themselves laughing at him.

All except his youngest son. He was caught between staring at Bruce, glaring at his brothers, and glaring at the new guests. Ignoring them, Bruce focused his attention back on Sabine. He remembered her well and he thought, hoped, that he would never see her again. She was a part of his past that he wasn’t proud of but she was here, claiming to have brought him his ten-year-old child, and all Bruce had wished for in that moment was for the women he slept with to stop hiding his children from him. If he had a nickel for every time that happened… he would have two nickels. Not a lot, but it was weird and depressing that it had happened twice now.

He wasn’t even planning on denying any paternity. There was no need, no want to do so. He would take in the little girl in a heartbeat if that was what Sabine wished. How could he not? Her pout was the same as Damian’s and she had his mother’s button nose. Her eyes were as blue as his father’s and as his own but her glare— when she could not understand why his idiot children were suddenly doing their best hyena impressions— was entirely her mother’s. She was… she was so beautiful. Bruce could only wish she was truly his.

But why now? Why keep it a secret for years? Bruce stared at the two of them, having flashbacks to two years ago, to his introduction to his youngest son and could only think of the worst.

Something must have happened. She must have been in danger for Sabine to have brought her to him. But what?

“Why are you really here, Sabine?” He needed to get to the bottom of this. He needed to prepare. “Certainly not just for a friendly visit.”

“Actually there is no ulterior motive.” Her voice was as cool as ever. Her passive expression that used to piss him off, her posture unreadable, drove him up a wall. He both missed and resented it. “We don’t need your help with anything. I just believed Marinette needed an opportunity to meet her father.”

Marinette. His baby’s name was Marinette. It was perfect.

“But why now?” At this point his sons’ laughter had died down and they were paying close attention to the exchange.

“She deserves to know who her father is and she’s old enough to understand why you can’t be in her life.” Her tone left no room for questions, as if the notion that he wouldn’t— couldn’t— be a part of his own daughter’s upbringing was set in stone. His blood was starting to run hot at that. He had been deprived of raising his children not once but twice, missing important milestones and not being able to form a bond he so desperately yearned for. It’s one thing to take in children, ones who already had been taught with a set of worldviews for the first few years, and had to combat with different ideals. It was a completely different thing, however, to be there from birth, to hold them, to coddle them, and to raise them and watch them become their own individuals.

“And who decided I can’t be in her life?” His frustration was well hidden but it still tasted bitter on his tongue.

“Don’t kid yourself,” she scoffed. “You and I both know she has no place in Batman’s crusade.”

The silence was damning. He didn’t say anything to that. What could he say? He never wished this life for his children but everyone he had taken in had fallen victim to his mission. He didn’t want to think about whether or not the young girl before him could keep up. She probably could; knowing her mother, she was probably well-trained and highly skilled. But Gotham was cruel, it was brutal and vile and wouldn’t hesitate to remind anyone of their own mortality and Bruce never wanted to bury one of his children again. His mind made up, he reached for his cowl and pulled it down.

Face and heart bare, he kneeled before his daughter. She looked at him with the same scrutiny she had since she greeted him.

“Hello, Marinette,” he said. He saw out of his periphery his boys drop from their perch. They made no step closer, but that was fine. This was between him and the child in front of him. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, father.” Her smile was brilliant and if he wasn’t already set in his convictions, he would be now. He’s known her for ten minutes and he never wanted that smile to disappear.

“I know your mother said that you don’t need me,” he breathed out, more tenderly than he thought he was capable of, “but if you ever— and I mean ever — need me, don’t hesitate to reach out.”

He saw in her eyes that she didn’t fully understand his earnest but her head bobbled in agreement all the same. Sabine’s hand rested on her shoulder, drawing her into her side. He looked at her face and saw a compassion he hadn’t seen in years.

“We’ll be in contact,” was her closing remark. Not giving him a chance to respond, she steered the little girl away from him, back to the car. He rose to his full height, cowl still by his shoulders, hung down by the weight of his decision. His sons still haven’t said anything, leaving him to have this moment for himself. His gaze was transfixed on his daughter. The daughter he never got to know. He watched as she made it to the car, holding the door open but not getting in. From what he could see of her face, she was contemplating something. Before he could hazard a guess, she turned and ran to him, colliding into his legs with full force.

She was hugging him. Bruce’s arms came to rest on her shoulders then to pet at the back of her head. He couldn’t feel how soft her hair was with his glove in the way.

“Goodbye, father,” her ocean eyes were shining up at him, his father’s kind smile etched into her features. “I hope to see you again someday.”

“Me too, Marinette.” He would never tire of saying his children’s names, hers was no different.

Then she was off, back to the seclusion of the car that didn’t hesitate to reverse out the way it came. Just like that, as silently as they arrived, they left.

“Well that was something,” Tim’s voice cut into the air. “Care to explain?”

No, not really.

“Later,” he said; hopefully never, he prayed. “Back to patrol, all of you.”

He was hoping, foolishly, that his sons would just accept this as just a moment in their lives, no explanations needed. But he knew he had to, he owed them answers.

But that was for later.

Later.

#maribat #mbdbwm2021 #maribat!biodadbruce #maribat!biodadbrucewayne2021 #maribat!biodadbrucewaynemonth2021 #maribat events #monthly events

126 notes · View notes

amazingphilza · 3 years

Text

study buddies :: cc!multiple x reader

fluff , platonic , gender neutral ! some headcanons if the mcyts were trying to help you do hw :D

cc’s included in order: tommyinnit , tubbo , ranboo , wilbur soot , philza , technoblade

tommyinnit

i feel like he’s the type to be in a long discord call with you whilst you both try to finish your work

mans uses the screensharing feature like there’s no tomorrow

“y/n watch my stream on discord and help me guess the answers”

“tommy no! i haven’t even taken a film class before”

“your guess is good as mine”

“just cheat and google the answers!!!”

“fuck you”

he actually just wants your attention because he’s bored out of his mind doing homework

five minutes later of asking you to help him guess questions he’s like

“hey y/n”

“what now?”

“let’s play bedwars”

“oh my god shut up!!!”

if tommy has to speedrun something before a deadline, it is a whole different story tho; he will be so focused on completing that he won’t hear what you’re saying

if you’re struggling in math, you’re on your own

“math is shit, only numbers i need is my primes and youtube analytics” says tommy any time you complain about math

besides the fact he isn’t good at solving math problems, you can’t even read his handwriting if he did try showing you how to do a problem

“okay, y/n, it’s simple, just look” he says in his kareninnit voice and everything

you’d be like “is the variable a G or a 9??”

“fuck you that’s a 4!!!”

tubbo

i don’t know if tubbo ever talked about school before but something about him makes me think he’s actually pretty good at math

like he can explain a few things when it comes to math / algebra

CODING GO BRRRR

no geometry or calculus though, anything past algebra will go bad

if tubbo is doing homework with you, he will definitely tune you out

“hey tubbo can you help me on this question?”

you don’t get a response until like 20 minutes later

“oh yeah, what was it y/n?”

like now you answer? i just got the answer myself after so long, forget you smh

“oh nothing tubbo, nevermind!”

but you’re still grumbling in your head because if he answered just a bit earlier you wouldn’t have gone through the work of finding the answer online

i can also imagine if you’re taking chemistry tubbo is like ;

“oh you’re taking chemistry? let’s make some bombs!” /lh

tubbo would definitely pull an all-nighter with you to finish your projects together

if you had a group project, he would make you do the writing part while he does the drawing part

“we definitely aced this project”

“of course we did, if i made you draw we would’ve ended up with stick figure diagrams”

“TUBBO. THE FUCK?”

ranboo

okay i know ranboo said he isn’t a theatre or band kid (unless im wrong and forgetful) but i feel like he’d be somewhat educated in the topics nonetheless

half the time he’s great moral support, helping you stay motivated !

the other half is him making fun of you

“i cant believe you’re failing, that is so sad, can’t be me”

“it’s literally an honors class, ranboo! it’s supposed to be hard!!”

“taking an honors class willingly? also cant be me AHAHA”

i honestly can’t see ranboo going to school like i know he’s a minor and said he had zoom calls before and plays volleyball but like did i miss something? has he dropped out yet? like something about ranboo does not scream “student” /lh

besides that, i’m not sure what subject he would actually be good in,,, but something about nutrition/health sciences,, he knows a few things

don’t get me wrong, i don’t think he actually likes the subject but somehow remembers what he learned from the class

also gives me the type of energy of the type of person to take a first aid class to be a certified person to do cpr on someone just to kill time during his lunch breaks for a while or something

“i am a certified cpr person”

“my life in ranboo’s hands? oh god please no”

you two would probably joke about the ‘bad’ people in your classes or talk shit about your schools than actually doing anything homework related ngl AHAHAH

“you think your school is down bad? mine went back to campus full time after like 6 months into quarantine because they were running out of money”

“what the hell y/n? your school is a scam, drop out”

“arghhhh i knowww”

“i bet i make more money than your teachers combined AHAHAH”

wilbur soot

he doesn’t seem like the best person to ask for help for homework but can info dump you on very specific historical events + a bit of geography

i kinda see him as the person you can ask to proof read an essay for you and would help it improve immensely

who needs a thesaurus when you have vocabulary boy wilbur?

i dunno if it’s an american thing only or at all, but if/when you get to studying hamilton in your english class, he will get so fucking excited

“no wilbur it isn’t fun! imagine listening to lin-manuel miranda rap ‘alexander hamilton’ at the white house from like 2009 on repeat for over an hour whilst trying to write an analysis about it!! it was so distracting”

“well clearly someone has a personal problem with mr lin-manuel. if i were you, i’d be singing the whole thing”

is this last bit personal and complete spite from my freshman year english class? yes. i do not care? no. /hj

unrelated but i actually scribbled nice guy ballad lyrics and other songs on my english scratch papers in freshman year but anyway

probably isn’t the best person to be in a call to do homework with but wilbur doesn’t mind you ringing him occasionally sometimes

i dunno i can just see him easily get bored of the silence or something but also doesn’t want to bother you too much

but he is genuinely proud of you whenever you tell him you aced a big test you were studying for :D

philza

this man’s bad advice is as bad as him trying to help you on any subject

he’s an old man so /hj

but like honestly, he hasn’t been at school for so long, phil can probably only help with the most basic things when it comes to school

if you have a wack teacher that makes you collect data through surveying people, phil would be one of the best people to ask! straightforward and won’t take too much of your time compared to other people ahem,,

statistics things ! sobs

if you ever complain a lot about your classes and contemplating dropping out and stuff, he will def scold you hard

“ugh phillllllllll can i just like,, never go to school again?”

“do not drop out”

“argh fine, i won’t just ‘cause philza minecraft said so”

honestly if you get a high score in a big test like your sats/gcse’s (whatever you’re taking from wherever you are) he’d probably order you a small meal or something to celebrate :D

like how phil bought ranboo bought him food to his house, it would start as a joke but when you get your test scores back he’s like “YOOO GOOD JOB Y/N”

expect a left meat pizza coming to your house .

technoblade

like wilbur, techno is also helpful when it comes to history!

def knows a decent bit of literature too

besides that i don’t really see him being that helpful

even if he was supposed to be an english major

he will just get mad at the school system for teaching you useless things

“being in school is good but why do you need to know how to know if something is a triangle or not? i can obviously see with my eyes that it’s a triangle”

“i dunno! ask the person that made up geometry”

“just look at a kaleidoscope and be over with it, it isn’t that hard”

“that isn’t how it works—”

“bruhhh”

if you’re looking for the person to call while doing homework, he is not the person /lh

it’s either like 0 or 100 with techno

he can just completely not say anything and ignore you or go on a full rant about whatever class or homework you have

if you have an essay you need written, it will take a lot of bribing but he might take the opportunity if you are rich

“techno i’ll paypal you $10 please help me”

“no. i can make 10 times that amount in 5 minutes if i just started streaming right now”

“techno i don’t have that kind of money! pleaseee”

“no. instead of complaining, you can use that time to actually start you work”

“you’re the worst”

then you speedrun the essay and get an A just to spite him

#dream smp imagines #dream smp x reader #dream smp x y/n #dream smp headcanons #sbi imagine #sbi x reader #sbi headcanons #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x you #mcyt headcanons

197 notes · View notes