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To 🎩 anon (you turned off anon and I'm not sure if that was an accident or not),
"Dear jester I loved reading all that you had said, i found it rather interesting and i feel that we have the same way of processing each event, methodically and in order ! The situations are rather chaotic, but sifting through each element has helped me tremendously to sort out everything.
I deeply thank you for sharing all that with me.
Seems i relate to you even more now, i am also very mature for my age (same as you) and have become rather burnt out with my schooling and life just in general. I was in a period of time where I had lost all sense of feeling, as i had spent years and years tied to people and in lots of emotional turmoil. He got me out of a very awful time, showed me what true love and kindness was. Never have i experienced that in my life, nor did i ever want to. But now that i have, i don't ever want to let go. Even though he is turning 20 in 8 days
At first, i was scared. Couldn't tell him about that specific factor of me. Although recently, i did, and i somehow knew that he had already known, yet was still too afraid i'd get left again. Seems like he cant leave me either but i guess thats a little fucked up hahaha im glad you realise the pros and cons with your situation and know that although you're obsessed with her, you know its for the better to be apart. I am yet to learn that hahaah !
I find solace knowing we have had similar experiences, although how unfortunate they are, we will find what works for us and what helps us get better. I hope you dont mind my little rambling haha I love your posts tremendously and i am glad you are doing better!
i guess i should make an anon hmmm :3
-🎩 anon"
TL;DR: Find a way to wean off him
My situation seems to be somewhat different than yours as you're still in contact with him and know much more about him than I do about her, I'm not sure how deep your obsession is with him but I'll give you some things that'll at least help you wean off him:
Highlight his flaws:
For me, my obsession centered around entitlement and objectification; she was only a girl meant to help ME through MY problems and give ME comfort. Any time it seemed like I was doing something for her, it just so happened that my attempt of self-gratification just so happens to benefit her (EX: I want to kidnap you because I don't see you as your person, but something to be owned). The more I took the time to look at how she looked, her misspellings, and her overall demeanor, I stopped seeing her as a concept meant to please me and more as a person, a person I didn't want to date.
Consider your personality:
As I grew up and started to become my own person, I realized that my personality didn't mesh as well with hers; I was easily distracted, easily annoyed, mentally unstable, emotionally dependant, but physically distant, and hypersexual. That didn't go well with how naive, childish, and go with the flow she could be and that didn't sit right with me. What if I yell at her?! What if she's uncomfortable with my advances, how would I react? What if I become too dependant on her?! Would that annoy her?! Write about him:
I didn't write about her too much, but it did help me realize how truly fucked up our one-sided "relationship" was looking back (even just a day later) at my writings that were begging myself to let go of her really made me break those rose colored glasses
Hang out with friends more:
I know it's insanely cliche, but hear me out!
As I hung out with my friend more and talked to her less, I found myself becoming slightly more dependant on them as they were healthier to be around and can keep me from doing stupid stuff like contacting her again.
Indulge in fiction:
Around 2020, I found myself getting deep into a series (that I still love to this day) that kept my attention and slowly took over my brain, almost replacing my affection for her. I found so many characters that acted just like her and a lot of them annoyed me, which I think solidified my first point of only like her as a concept and not a person.
Consider the future:
Ask yourself: a couple years from now, when you're 18 (assuming you're a minor, but if not just imagine yourself older), do you see yourself with him?
Showing him off to your parents?
Doing mundane tasks non-romantic tasks like doing laundry?
What would being with him look like?
Do you want to get married to him? Have kids? Grow old?
How romanized is your future with him? When you look at your future with him do you see an ideal person, an almost god-like being with zero flaws or do you see him?
My answer to half of these questions was,"God no"
Like I said before, I don't know much about your situation; how long you've known him, how long you've talked to him, ect ect. so these might not be helpful, but I, at the very least, want you to distance yourself from him a bit, especially if the age gap is as bad as mine (16/21).
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CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS — SUGAR DADDY!ZEMO
summary: a series of unfortunate (or fortunate, depending whose side you’re on) events brought you to mandripoor seven years ago. it was fun, dangerous and exciting for the most part. a lot has changed, but you are back in high town in the hope of purchasing a rare monet painting, and reuniting with an old flame.
warnings: tfatws spoilers, alcohol, established sugar daddy x sugar baby relationship, smut (daddy kink, dom/sub/switch dynamics, choking, hair pulling, blowjob, fingering, both degradation and praise kinks, spit kink, cum play, marking, unprotected sex). 18+ MINORS DON’T INTERACT.
word count: 2685
gif credit: pedropcl
notes: this (very long) fic is brought to you by zemo’s #1 hoe. for the sake of the fic, zemo’s daughter and wife have never existed. i get it zemo is the bad guy daniel is not your typical hottie but let me live my fantasy and reclaim my crown as the original zemo fan. listen to off to the races by lana del rey and let no man steal your thyme by the pentangle if you want to fibe with me! i hope you guys will enjoy it!!! <3
“If you keep staring at me like this, I’ll mistake you for the Mona Lisa.” You took the last sip from your glass, which was immediately filled by the man standing behind you. You had felt his familiar presence a long time ago, but you were too mesmerized by the rare painting trapped in a cage of glass to bother notifying him. “Your glance has followed me around the room. In other circumstances, I’d find it creepy. Now, it’s just very flattering.”
You heard him laugh through his nose. You saw his reflecting in the glass, lit up by flashing blue and pink lights and vibrating ever so slightly to the sound of the loud music.
“You’re like a Monet painting. From afar, you are clear as cristal and easy to read like an open book. From up close...” You marked a pause and stoodby straight. Your eyes never leaving the work of art you had been scrutinizing for the past hour. Water Lilies in Bloom, it was called, an incorrect translation that always brought a grin to your lips. “You are a mystery.” You swallowed thickly the bubbly liquid, recognizing the peculiar taste of champagne.
“It is arrogant but right to think of myself as the pure definition of mysterious.”
You chuckled, throwing your head back in disbelief. Some things never changed.
“After all these years... I managed to find my way back to you. Now that’s a mystery.”
You turned on your heels as you spoke. “Is it, though? Tell me, Daddy. Is it really that hard to believe you’d recognize your property even after all these years. I heard they put you in a pretty little cage. Didn’t have much else to think about than what you missed most?”
He took you in, just how ethereal you looked under the colourful neon lights. You had your arms pressed against your chest, the shiny material of your matching bracelet and necklace twinkled. He squinted slightly, his lips curled into a smirk while he looked down your body, the one thing that kept him sane after all these years in jail (that and the thought of destroying symbols like super soldiers and make the world a better place once and for all). “Nice dress.”
“My Sugar Daddy got it for me.” You did a twirl, showing off your outfit innocently. “You like it?”
He reached up to his neck and pulled on the collar of his purple sweater, like it was a tie he could loosen up. “So you received everything I sent you.”
You clicked your tongue. “Not everything...” Your head turned to look behind you, where your most priced possession was glowing in its full glory — soon to-be yours, you should say.
“Use your words, Princess. Say it and it’s yours.”
It was your turn to analyze him, to take every ounce of cockiness and pride. “You’re playing with fire.” You walked closer to him, erasing the distance but increasing the tension between the two of you. “All the money in the world won’t get you everything you want.”
He was quick to move, his soldiers instincts never left his body, clearly. His delicate hand wrapped around your throat so effortlessly. It tightened, forcing you to manage your breathing. “Money got me everything I wanted already.”
“What is it, Daddy? What is it that you want so badly?” You clenched your jaw, holding his glance which was filled with lust, instead of rage and grudges.
“You never looked so beautiful.” He leaned closer too, whispering the words to your ear. It was liked the loud club music turned into white noise. He could not care less about the stares and the words strangers exchanged as they witnessed the scene. High Town was not his playground.
But you were his plaything.
*~*~*
History repeated itself, in one way or another. Icons rose and fell. Symbols mattered and vanished into oblivion. Originality turned into plagiarism. Winners would lose it all, losers would dig their graves deeper into the abyss.
History repeated itself. The sight before your eyes was the same one as seven years ago, when all that was on this man’s life before meeting you was this stupid Mission Report of December 16 1991. You met him at a party like this, in High Town before he was banned from the land. He caught your attention doing his ridiculous dance moves, sharing his knowledge about the art pieces showcased around the room. Then he brought you to a hotel, the ones so fancy they had multiple rooms and a vintage record player as part of the decor. Only, it worked, and he put on his favourite Édith Piaf records. Rien de Rien, Le Petit Homme, La Vie en Rose, song after song, you were diving deeper in your memories.. He was popping yet another bottle of champagne open and pouring some in flutes you would never touch for the rest of the night. The same night, seven years ago, it changed your life. At the second you regretted setting foot in Mandripoor, he changed your mind and gave you the best months of your life. You would ride around Europe in vintage cars, dine in gigantic mansions you called castles. You admired the old paintings of his royal family members while he brought you a silk bathrobe to change into after a steamy shower.
You’d get lost in your thoughts, he’d get lost in his ambitions. You two were one and the same, in one way or another. That affirmation sent shivers down your spine. You could not tell if it was a good or a bad thing, a shy voice in your head was reassuring you it was the former.
“They call me Baron again, I guess I’m not doing too bad after all.” His voice snapped you back to reality. He was still wearing that obnoxious trench coat. You hated it, it made him look like a pimp. Although that was not too far from the truth, as the mountain of luxurious jewelry and clothes in your closet proved.
“Do you like being back here?”
“I love it here.” The emphasis on the last word was audible. You nodded in agreement. This place was heaven on Earth for some people, hell for others. For both you and Zemo, it was somewhere in between.
“You’re certainly not here for me.” You laughed, setting the still full glass on the nightstand.
He shook his head, mouthing a negative response.
“What is it, this time? Mission report February 32?”
“Something like that.” He answered, after another silent laugh.
“If only you had made me your mission, your life would have been easier.”
“Yours would have been, too.”
You shrugged. You agreed, but you did not need to say it. He knew. The two of you knew that this warmth washing over your bodies was the answer to all of your problems. Yet, you were fighting the urge to surrender and give in.
History always repeated itself.
All it took was for him to set his hand on your exposed knee. You got flashbacks of the numerous times his hand rested there while you two drove deeper in the country side, in some old Chevrolet, Ford, or any other European brands he could find and buy.
“Say it, Princess. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”
You swallowed thickly and fell on your knees. He sat straight, as straight as he could on the comfortable mattress, and spread his legs wider. “I want to go back in time.”
He leaned foward and you opened your mouth, your tongue poking out. He spit in your mouth, and you swallowed. The giggle that followed your actions sent blood to his hardening cock. “Just as eager as I remembered, right? You’d do anything to please me.”
“I’d do anything for you, Daddy.” You repeated, the confession left you breathless.
“That’s my good girl.” He brushed your hair with so much tenderness for a moment, you let out a content moan. He changed the mood real quick when he pushed your head closer to his crotch and unbuckled his belt at lightning’s speed.
Your mouth was watering at the sight, a sight that was tattooed in your memory forever. Whatever relationship you two had went beyond fancy presents and sex, it was a connection that tickled your souls and left you a different woman than when it first started. You wasted no time, stroking him a few times as you spit on his blushing tip. You smeared the spit over his sensitive spot and pulled the sweetest moans out of him, which grew louder and more intense when you finally wrapped your lips around his head.
No one compared to you, to your attention to details, to the way you were taking him all in, inches by inches like you were made for his cock and his cock only. No one compared to how blissful you looked pulling back, choking on your own saliva and the lack of oxygen. “You look so beautiful, Babygirl.”
His praise made you bat your eyes, hoping to receive more compliments. You flattened your tongue, licking him from the base to the top before you deep throated his cock again. You never left him untouched, your hands were massaging his walls or exploring his thick thighs while your mouth almost brought him to the edge.
That was when he pulled on your hair and demanded you went back up on your feet. “I bet you’re soaked. All you need is to see a cock to wet your panties.” You nodded as one hand reached up to cup your face, the other to cup your core from under your dress. He could felt the ever growing wet patch. He discarded of your panties in one effortless pull and pressed his pointer and middle fingers against your sensitive clit. He circled it, studying your reaction.
“Daddy...” You breathed out. “I need you.”
“I’m proud of you for using your words,” his finger slipped inside of your entrance, you moaned out his name. “So greedy and needy and easy for me, like the good whore that you are. Is that right? You’re Daddy’s perfect little whore?”
He was two fingers in, all the way to the last knuckles. He pumped in and out of you slowly yet roughly. You smirked when he finally touched that spongy spot inside of you. “I’m Daddy’s. I’ll always belong to Daddy.”
“That’s right.”
He brushed his thumb over your clit, his fingers stopped fucking your hole to abuse the bundle of nerves until tears started to pool in your eyes.
“Be a good baby.” You looked at him with doe eyes, sucking his thumb between your plump lips. “Do what I want.”
And you reached your high. You had nothing to hold you up, except for your shaky legs that threatened to give in under your weight and the intensity of your orgasm. You sucked on his thumb harder, hoping to quiet some of your moans but your screams escaped your parted lips.
In a blink of an eye, you were pushed against the bed and bounced against the body that blocked your every movement. His pants were nowhere to be found, just like the rest of your respective clothes. Your finger tips brushed over the skin of his shaven cheeks, down to his neck and chest. The intimacy, you had craved it all these years.
“I bet that sweet cunt of yours missed my cock.” He spoke, chuckling mockingly when he pushed himself in your stretched hole. You both let out a long moan of satisfaction. He rested inside of you, adjusting to your warmth and tightness. “I was right.”
“You’re always right.” You flattered his ego, and earned a sloppy kiss in return.
His lips moved down to your neck where he sucked hickeys and left small bite marks as he picked up the pace of his hips.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, hoping to bring him that much closer, and deeper, into you.
Zemo pinned your wrists above your head and pumped his cock inside of your tight pussy like his life depended on it. “So fucking wet for me, gonna make me cum, Baby.” He had tried so hard to hold back, not to mark you and claim you again.
“Wait for me.” You begged him, and he brought one hand down to your neck again. He squeezed it, choking you deliciously until your eyes rolled inwards. He tightened his grip ever so slightly and he felt it, he felt the way your walls fluttered around him.
He thrusted inside of you, his hips snapped against yours and the sound of your skin slapping echoed in the bedroom. “Cum for me, Princess. Cum with Daddy.”
And you did, your body exploded in fireworks when you felt his release planted inside of you. He kept moving, rocking back and forth. He leaned back, leaving your neck to rub your clit once again. He was a moaning mess, the overstimulation made it almost painful to keep going but he did not want it to stop, not until...
“Fuck, Daddy!” And a second wave of pleasure hit you hard, it left you panting and shaking even more than before.
Zemo had to pull away quickly, and already missed the feeling of being inside of you.
Your fingers reached between your bodies, dipping into your folds and moving up to your lips as they were covered in his seed. You painted your lips with his white cum, before you licked them and your fingers clean as he watched, completely amazed and mesmerized. “Taste just as good as I remembered.”
He laughed, he was always one step ahead of everything and everyone, but you always managed to take him by surprise. You were just that great, that perfect. He rolled to the side and fell heavily on the bed. His skin was glistening under the light of the chandeliers from the thin layer of sweat.
You pressed your legs together, clenching around nothing. You hoped you could keep his load inside of you, as a proof this had really happened and it was not just one of your daydreams where you two would be reunited.
“I missed this.” You boke the silence with a small voice. Your fingers brushed over the bruises on your neck, and you hissed at the sensitive skin.
He turned on his side, worried for a second that he went too hard on you. The smile and joy on your face proved him otherwise. “I missed you, Princess.”
“I missed you so much, Daddy.”
*~*~*
The sun hurt your eyes, he noticed. He slipped out of the bed to pull on the curtains only to hurry back to you so you could lay your head on his chest. You were still wearing your bracelet, he started playing with it.
His mind was racing, just like his heart. You could feel it rumble in his chest like a loud engine. Something was bothering him.
“Oh, Zemo...” You caressed his cheek, looking up to study his features. “You can fool the smartest people in the world, but you’ll never be able to lie to me.”
“I’m coming home, Baby. I’m coming home now.”
You looked down again, taking a moment to answer. “Let me guess, you’ll take me to a fancy house like Rebecca’s Manderley and Jane Eyre’s manor at the Rochester’s. You’ll show me around, make me feel like I belong. And you’ll leave, high and dry. Again. All the money and presents from your people won’t erase the pain I felt. Not this time, not ever.”
He pressed his thin lips together. Pain, suffering, he was used to it. He had his fair share of it, caused even more to other people. The thought of hurting you, however, was unbearable.
“Every kingdom needs its king...” He paused and moved you, so you were resting on your elbows and your face was closer to his. “And an even greater queen.”
#baron zemo#helmut zemo#marvel imagine#the falcon and the winter soldier#tfatws spoilers#tfatws#one shot: champagne problems
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Steve Rogers Fanfiction Recommendations
Happy birthday, Steve!
I know that there are some (a lot?) of steve fans who sometimes struggle to find fics focused on him, so I am here now putting a list of Steve fics. I was going to fics that I haven't seen recommended a lot and most of the ones on this post have less than 200 kudos only, but I end up putting everything (it's probably easier to put my bookmarks as public but well...). It's a massive list (over 100 fics?), so it's will be separated into several posts/reblogs.
Not all of them are from Steve's POV or even have him as the main 'main' character, but rest assured he played an important role and is featured heavily. Lots of these are friendship-focused but I categorized them. The shippy ones are mostly samsteve, thundershield, and some rare pairings because I don't venture to other ships a lot and when I did it's to the rare ones instead lol. Hopefully, any of you can find some gems from this list and these are as enjoyable or as good as I remembered. I'll continue to update it, hopefully, every time I find new ones.
Fics are under read more.
General
The Rocket's Red Glare
Steve was born on the Fourth of July (no joke), so a party is in order! Unfortunately, PTSD decides to rear its ugly head. Fortunately, Steve's got an entire team at his back to help him through it. And screaming goats.
an entry in the scrapbook of absurdity
In which Steve turns into a baby and bites people.
Baby Steve Adventures
Captain America gets hit by a spell during a battle. The rest of the Avengers look after him.
Do You Remember Being Happy? ('Cause I Sure Don't)
"Dragr," Thor called them. "Demons" Clint had said. "Thieves" is what Steve labels them as. AKA, the one where Steve is captured by creatures that feed off of happy memories, and the team is left to pick up the pieces. Post-Avengers.
In Search of (Bucky, Family, Home)
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson
A week following the events of CATWS, Steve recruits Natasha and Sam to help find Bucky.
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Do we need to recap again? You were shot three times, beaten near to death by an enhanced super soldier with a metal arm and then almost drowned. Yeah, your ass is going to need a few more days of healing time.”
The Truth When Captains Meet
Steve Rogers wakes up on an alien’s space ship being carried bridal style by Carol Danvers. As far as first meetings go, it’s memorable.
Irish Coffee
Pairings: Jessica Jones & Steve Rogers
Jessica runs into an incognito Cap at a cafe. They form an unlikely friendship of sorts.
The Lifetimes of Steve Rogers (Series)
What happens when Steve Rogers steps onto the quantum platform to return the Stones? Where does he go? What challenges does he find? Who does he meet? How many lifetimes can one man have?
Fifty-Two Pickup
Less than a week after the fall of the Triskelion, Steve Rogers is released from the hospital. Although his physical wounds are almost fully healed, other injuries need a bit more time, and some help from friends.
little kids get big so fast
Steve ends up having to take care of the deaged Defenders.
Grampa Steve's Bedtime Stories
If Mommy was away for work, then Morgan’s Grampa Steve came over to stay with her. He’d tuck her in, let her give Mommy a kiss on video chat, then hand her the picture of Daddy for his kiss. Once Daddy’s picture was back on the bookshelf, Grampa Steve would turn off the bedside lamp so that Miss Friday could cover the ceiling with stars, and ask Morgan what story she wanted to hear.
“Captain Steve, Grampa! Tell me Captain Steve!”
Grampa Steve sometimes read to her from books and other times watched a movie with her, but her favorite by far was when he told her Captain Steve’s Adventures Through the Multiverse.
On Camping Trips
Sam is more Hermione than Natasha is, and Steve doesn't want to be Harry.
Powerful
Steve loses the advantages of the super-soldier serum. This is not a tragedy.
His Dream
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
As if on cue, Steve cut him off with a loud sneeze.
"Yeah. Like that." Sam nodded. "And please sneeze into your elbow next time, dude. You could've just started an epidemic."
"Sorry. Allergies." Steve excused, and Sam raised an eyebrow.
"How do you know it's allergies?" Sam asked, and Steve sighed, putting the ingredients together and solving the mystery of what the gas had actually done.
The answer wasn't ideal. "It feels like the seasonal allergies I had before. Before the serum- and I haven't had them since the serum."
Realization clicked in Sam's head.
"The gas de-serumed you."
Steve swallowed and nodded reluctantly.
OR: Steve gets temporarily de-serumed, with his height and stature staying the same but his immune system being as bad as it was before, and has to stay in the hospital to prevent a severe allergic reaction or illness. Sam stays with him the whole time, making sure he's not alone.
A Strange Encounter
Things have gone awry and Strange is injured. With no other options, he's called for assistance from Captain America and his team.
even if we're apart, i'll always be with you
Steve finds a dirty toy bear at an abandoned gas station, on the way back from a school trip. He brings him home.
As Long as You’re Not Tired Yet of Talking
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov
When Steve Rogers tells her, “Don’t be a stranger,” as they’re all going their own ways after New York, it makes her want to laugh.
Draw/Breath
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov
Natasha like knowing what makes people tick. She likes knowing things, about her teammates and her coworkers and herself. Oddly enough, sometimes other people like knowing her too.
AKA: Natasha wants to know why Steve isn’t drawing anymore, and takes the long way round to get her answer. Because why not.
With Magic We Do Fly
Pairings: Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers
In Civil War we see Wanda fling Steve into the air with her magic. They must have practiced that, right?
Que Wanda throwing Steve against a wall. Many times.
Just Like We Practiced
Pairings: Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers
Steve had said, in the movie when he asked Wanda to lift him into the building, "Just like we practiced." But just how did they come up with the idea of her lifting people with her powers, and putting them up somewhere like an escalator? Perhaps it was because Wanda accidentally sent a certain tall, blond Avenger face-first into the floor once and he decided he would help her learn to utilize this as a confidence building exercise. Natasha keeps an eye, Thor and Sam help build the training grounds, and Wanda has found her new home. Takes place between AGE OF ULTRON and CIVIL WAR.
Black and White but Red and Blue
They're watching black and white film reels, but Steve sees them in colour.
"My shield may be black and white but it was red and blue. Just like the blue sky under which red blood was spilled. Like Bucky's blue eyes and Peggy's red lips..."
The Road Warriors
Characters: Sam Wilson (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Wanda Maximoff
It wasn't pretty, but somehow the four of them managed to make it through two years on the run.
We'll Fix It
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov
Steve has a hard time after his battle with The Winter Soldier and isn't sure what to do with himself. After not seeing him for a week, Natasha finally shows up to his apartment unannounced to figure out how they can get back to work. There is some crying involved.
From Here On Out
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov
The Accords, the search for Bucky, the fight at the airport ... In a world where nothing will ever be the same, sometimes the road to rebuilding trust and friendship is a little rockier than it should be.
AKA, the story of Steve & Natasha and how they got to where they are.
Set post-Civil War but pre-Infinity War.
I have this breath and I hold it tight
Parings: Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers, Clint Barton & Wanda Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff & Vision
Steve finally goes to Wanda’s tiny room and taps on the doorframe, although it’s hardly necessary, with the slightly warped floorboards creaking under his feet. “Hey,” he says. “Got a minute?”
Wanda's been a little withdrawn since Steve broke everyone out of the Raft. She's had a lot to think about.
to you.
Pairings: Pietro Maximoff & Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton & Wanda Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff & Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff & Tony Stark
It's Wanda's birthday today. She's not sure how to feel.
New Love
Pairings: Diana (Wonder Woman) & Steve Rogers
Near the end of World War II, Diana Prince finds herself attempting to reconnect to her long-gone, beloved Steve Trevor. However, she comes across Steve Rogers instead.
Sharing Life (And Canned Green Beans)
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov
It’s Thanksgiving, and Steve is hiding in the second living room on the 8th floor of the penthouse apartments with a can of green beans.
I'm Fine
Steve slowly began to realize that the problem with being a national icon, a hero, and a role model, is that somehow, he became more than human. He become a symbol, not a person. So when he becomes increasingly unhappy, deeply depressed, and utterly adrift in a world where he doesn't belong, the loneliness and isolation are unbearable. How could anyone believe that an iconic hero like himself was really just an ordinary kid from Brooklyn, dying inside because everything he'd gained still wasn't enough to replace everything he'd lost? How could he possibly bring himself to bleed on the ones he loves? So he tells himself the same lie over and over, hoping one day, he'll believe it.
dogpile
"My dog ate my mission report" An injured Steve remembers something he has to do. Unabashed Steve and dogs fluff. "Didn't peg you for a pet guy." "Allergies."
Alone In This World (Together)
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson
“We’re fugitives,” Steve said finally. “It might never get better.”
“The world’s always going to need saving," Sam replied. "We’re still Avengers. No one can take that away from us.” Then, like they hadn't been having an entire conversation before, “So when do we leave?”
“Once night falls.”
Do we have any idea where she is?”
“No.” Steve took a sip of his coffee. “But I know where she’ll be.”
it gets the worst at night
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov
Here's how it goes: Natasha sometimes shares a bed with Steve. It's not what it sounds like.
(In which there are Colombian drug lords, awkward boners, cuddly super-soldiers and the Avengers are all giant dorks.)
Shelter
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
Sam and Steve, right after the fall of SHIELD.
Princely Bickering
Pairings: Jane Foster/Thor, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers & Jane Foster, Steve Rogers & Thor
Steve allows Sam to lean up and inspect his head for bruises and blood. He then checks out Steve’s eyes. ‘Do you know where you are?’ Steve rolls his eyes. ‘Don’t be an ass, Cap, apparently you can break.’ ‘London, England, chasing apparently useless Hydra intel despite having about five hundred international arrest warrants out for us because we’re just that stupid,’ says Steve. Sam pats him - gently - on the shoulder. Life on the run isn't easy, especially not after an injury. Fortunately Steve still has a few allies left.
And The Seconds Tick Down
AU of Civil War. How the world ended in twenty steps when Steve died.
"Grant" and "Francis" Go Shopping
Pairings: Clint Barton & Steve Rogers
Steve and Clint both have holiday shopping to do for their family of choice, so they make a day trip to an outlet mall, have a few heart to hearts, use some coupons, buy a bunch of presents, and eventually get through their shopping lists.
A Tune Without Words
Pairings: Jane Foster/Thor, Steve Rogers & Thor, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
As he and Sam prepare to begin searching for Bucky, Steve gets various offers of help—some more unexpected than others.
Purpose
Tony Stark wins the fight in Siberia completely by accident.
Steve Rogers does not resist his arrest as he is taken to the Raft.
Sam Wilson, T'Challa, and Pepper Potts pick up the pieces.
Full of Wounds and Still Standing on my Feet
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Wanda Maximoff
The five times Steve looked out for Wanda, and one time Wanda decided someone needed to look out for Steve.
Three Awakenings
The first three times that Steve Rogers woke up during his first twenty-four hours in the twenty-first century.
Making Your Own Future
Characters: Steve Rogers, Diana Prince, Steve Trevor Five times -- plus one -- that Diana Prince and Steve Rogers encountered one another.
Better Living Through Pizza
Pairings: Clint Barton & Steve Rogers
Steve takes some time off from soldiering and Avengering to get his head on straight, and Clint is assigned to keep an eye on him, because apparently SHIELD believes in the blind leading the blind. Steve really needs a hobby, since modern television shows baffle him, but Clint keeps bringing him DVDs and pizza.
Five Times Clint Barton Spoke with Steve Rogers about Growing Old and the One Time He Didn't.
Pairings: Clint Barton & Steve Rogers
When Steve Rogers reappeared from the past as an old man, there was a lot of catching up to do. Clint Barton made sure nobody got left behind.
Hammer's Totally Heavy-Handed and Incompetent Revenge
"So, at the end of IM2, Justin Hammer swears revenge on Pepper. He waits until Tony and Rhodey are halfway across the world to launch his attack.
Unfortunately for him, thanks to SHIELD, Iron Man and War Machine aren't the only superheroes in Pepper's rolladex. Steve thinks Pepper's just swell and doesn't take too kindly to somebody trying to hurt her."
Cue badass!Steve and competent!Pepper
Fan Mail
Steve starts getting his fan mail and receives an invitation to the prom. Written for a prompt at the Avengers kink meme. It was a great prompt, and so much fun to write and get feedback for!
Prom. Steve 'Grandpa Iceberg' Rogers at a 21st-century high school prom. "This isn't happening. This whole conversation is just an elaborate practical joke. Bruce really just has orders for widgets or something."
Bruce waved the printouts at him. "Fraid not. I don't really do practical jokes. Messing with other people's moods just seems. I don't know. Karmically unwise."
Mascot
Steve runs. People see Steve run. Steve gets adopted by the neighbourhood he runs through every week day morning. He finds this confusing. Tony finds it amusing.
Locks Not Replaced
Tony angsts back at Avengers' HQ, Ross is a bully and Steve makes sure he doesn't get away with it. In other words, there is much regret, a bit on the philosophy of locks, adventure and far too many Robin Hood metaphors.
woof
For a prompt on the avengers kinkmeme: "...something different happens when Steve gets Dr Erskine's serum plus the Vita ray treatment... Steve does get taller and stronger, but when the first full moon hits, he turns into a big friendly looking dog. Yes, he's a weredog, not a werewolf."
Mission: Baby
Pairings: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers
The Asset finds himself in charge of the care of a small baby, but somehow he knows—he has to protect the baby from all harm, whatever the cost.
14 Tracks
Pairings: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Avengers Team 14 tracks from Steve's iPod and how they got on there.
Life Will Rattle Your Bones
Pairings: Erik Lehnsherr & Steve Rogers
Captain America and the Howling Commandos find Schmidt sooner than they thought... wait, what do you mean this is a *different* Schmidt?
In war-torn Germany, the paths of Steve Rogers and Erik Lehnsherr cross, part, and cross again.
come build me up
Pairings: Sharon Carter & Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers
“Do you ever feel like -- like you joined up because you wanted to do good. You wanted to do the right thing but somewhere along the way, you just lost the whole fucking plot.”
“All of the time.”
Or: the one where Captain America and Agent 13 give long distance friendship a whirl.
Down in the Worn Out Place Again
Pairings: Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Wanda Maximoff
“You don't look a day over 85, Captain,” Wanda says.
Natasha smiles, just barely, and nudges Steve with her elbow. “She makes jokes now.”
(Post AoU, stories about friendship.)
Satellites
Characters: Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Nick Fury Pairings: Natasha Romanov & Steve Rogers, Minor Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
In the immediate aftermath of SHIELD's collapse and Steve's plunge into the Potomac, Natasha considers her place in the world. Also the fact that Steve is depressing.
Timeless Classics
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Avengers Team Five An undetermined number of times (six, apparently) Steve unexpectedly got the reference (sort of), and one time everyone discovered something new together.
you just wait and see
Pairings: Rocket Raccoon & Steve Rogers
“Thor said you’re the captain.” Rogers says, his voice distant, sad smile growing into a sadder grin. “Tough job.”
The Small Hours
Pairings: Steve Rogers & T'Challa, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers
"I'm not getting him back, am I." The words were flatly delivered – not a question so much as fatigued resignation. "We will do everything we can to help him," T'Challa quietly replied, but he wouldn't lie, not about this. Not to a fellow warrior he respected on and off the field of battle. "The possibility does exist, however, that the triggers are permanent."
The Man We All Remember From the Newsreels
Still getting used to the twenty-first century, Steve comforts himself with memories of long-gone friends. But Howard Stark, the man Steve remembers, is nothing like the man he sees in the newsreels.
we're all choir boys at best
Characters: Steve Rogers, Johnny Storm
You are totally getting laid tonight. "Please stop talking." You hijacked my brain first, this is totally not my fault.
Epistaxis
Steve doesn't worry the first time he gets a bloody nose that won't quit. But when it happens a second, third, fourth... He, and his teammates, start to get concerned.
You Close Your Eyes and the Glory Fades
His body isn’t his own, he knows that, knew before the procedure that everything would change. That was the easiest thing to wrap his head around, actually, the physical changes. He’s used to his body betraying him, so this is just another thing to learn his way around. But the colors of everything, even the sliver of blue sky he could see, craning his head at the tiny window, look different.
Looking For Answers (From The Great Beyond)
After the Battle of New York is over, and Loki and the tesseract are returned to Asgard, Steve takes a road trip across the country, and tries to figure out what he wants to do next.
Mourning the Future
Steve's ties to the past and the future are pretty tenuous, and the serum ensures he lives in an eternal present state of ever-youthful vigour. When an old war buddy gets handed his last marching orders, Steve has to wonder if everyone will eventually leave.
Riviera Life
Sam and Steve have been traversing Europe looking for Bucky. Not everyone is convinced it isn’t an open invitation road trip.
Voluntary Bros.
Characters: Steve Rogers, Johnny Storm
"Dude, you could be twins, they tested you before they defrosted you to see if you were a clone or something, or if he was a clone," Clint said.
"I want to talk to him, I think. I mean, a girl threw her latte at me last week for not calling her back and this dude felt me up at an art gallery yesterday," Steve said.
Two Brooklynites and One Big Apple
Pairings: Miles Morales & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
“You did good out there today,” Captain America said, brushing a layer of detritus from his unfathomably broad shoulder. “I’ll see you around.”
“Not if I see you first,” replied Miles, fingergunning with one hand as he sent a web rope fwipping off into the distance with the other, catapulting himself away at tremendous speed.
... in which two superheroes battle with bad guys, embark on community art lessons, and a friendship forms along the way.
Battle Fatigue
Steve thought he was doing okay. Things weren't going great, but they were fine, manageable even, and then suddenly they weren't.
We Become New Yorkers (or: Five Times Steve Rogers Looked For Home, and One Time Home Found Him)
New York is a million cities at the same time. This is how Steve found his.
A beautiful day in the neighborhood
In which Steve and Peter learn that the best way to get through a bad situation is together. And to avoid collapsing buildings. And that concussions are terrible, terrible things.
Leviticus 25
"You want to save Bucky Barnes? You are going to have to put your own house in order first because he is going to need a rock to cling to. You are not ready to be that rock for him. You owe it to him -- and more importantly, you owe it to yourself -- to figure things out, figure out how you can be happy in this time and place, whether or not Barnes is with you."
Strike
Sometimes the road to recovery involves bowling. Conveniently, so does the one to the Grand Canyon.
Conversation in Wakanda
“I have been told that you had the privilege to share a training session with some of our Dora Milaje,” T’Challa says. “May I ask how it went?”
“Well,” the Captain huffs. “There’s no polite way to say it: I had my ass handed to me. Repeatedly.”
He sounds and looks utterly delighted.
Contact Light
Everyone thought computers would be the thing that really blew Steve's mind about the 21st century. They were wrong. When he finds out that he missed the moon landing, it's the start of an ongoing obsession with space that maybe involves Neil deGrasse Tyson, Twitter, and Star Trek marathons.
Twenty-Two
“This is Lucky,” Clint said when a dog got between him and Natasha. Lucky’s vest was bright, like desert mornings and night explosions.
“Does he help?” Natasha asked.
Clint pressed his hands flat on the counter behind him. “He saved my life.”
Natasha looked at Steve, her expression fierce. Steve resisted the urge to yank down his sleeves. Instead, he dug his nails into the puckered skin on his forearms.
AKA An AU in which Steve is a veteran just trying to survive (or not).
Gray
Peter doesn't expect Steve to show up at his house one night when he gets home from school. He also doesn't expect to have a long conversation with him, and choose to be on his side instead.
We're Happy, Free, Confused, and Lonely at the Same Time.
"Tony isn't sure, but he *thinks* Steve Rogers is going to try and argue with him about not being a kid, while wrapped up in a fluffy blanket and plaid pyjama pants watching a Disney movie. Tony really hopes that is the case. The Captain America voice looses all affect when wrapped up in that blanket and Tony can't wait to inform him as such." - The one where Tony realises that Captain America and Steve Rogers are not the same person, and Steve is so much younger then he thought.
This Isn't A Love Song, This Isn't A Fable
Steve's not OK with people's perception of Captain America, no matter what he says or how much he pretends otherwise. It's like no one in this time period realizes that there's more to him than a spangly outfit. And yes, he's including the Avengers in that. ... or, the one where everything's all right, until it's not.
it's safe here in our new world
Post TWS. In which Natasha and Steve go shopping, have Thursday night movie nights, and learn that Natasha loves to platonically kiss Steve. Which is good, because Steve loves being platonically kissed by Natasha.
Shadowboxing
Pairings: Matt Murdock & Steve Rogers
It doesn’t matter how many times you fall – what matters most is how many times you get back up. Steve Rogers knew this lesson far too well and it was one Matt Murdock had endured all his life. With both men at their lowest, could a chance friendship bring each of them to their feet again?
Everybody Eats When They Come to My House
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers
“You’ll ruin your dinner,” Sam says, gesturing with Steve with his spatula.
i fear for the calendar; its days are numbered
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
Before she goes off the grid, Natasha gives Steve her phone number. He’s honored that he’s the only one to be trusted with it, but quickly learns that she spends most of her free time texting him Dad jokes.
Status Quo Ante
Pairings: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers
A tale in which Sam suspects he should be used to this by now, for values of 'this' that involve certain folks he hangs out with and situations he finds himself in, Team Cap becomes Team Ex-Cap becomes TBD, and nobody but Clint really wants to know what happened to Scott Lang's GI Joes. (Sam Wilson from the final scene to the mid-credits scene.)
The Glass Parade
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Steve thinks that he’s seen Natasha be at least three different people in the short time he’s known her, and he isn’t sure which one is real.
In which the most confusing part of the future is how much Steve has in common with Natasha, and the fact that she seems dead-set on being his friend.
Still Life
Steve Rogers and a very modern form of art therapy. (The one where Steve draws himself out of despair and into some notoriety when his cartoons hit the internet, but he's still not allowed to look at Tumblr without an okay from Pepper.)
Selective Service
The serum's given Steve a lot, but it hasn't taken anything away from him. Not even the things he never wanted in the first place.
I'm a Hustler, Baby
Steve Rogers has a talent for pool--and for making others believe he's terrible at it.
The Healing Properties of Felt-Tip Pens
Rapid healing has worked wonders on Steve Rogers' body, but occasionally it really screws with his head. In the aftermath of torture, Bruce Banner helps Steve to reconcile mind and body.
If I Die Before I Wake
It's his job, as their leader, to endure the sadistic focus of their captor, and that is the one thought that carries Steve through.
Even Gods Do
Captain America doesn't have a good relationship with sleep anymore. Also, he's not a toy.
Under My Skin
Written for a prompt on avengerkink: I want to see something where, for whatever reason, Steve's accelerated healing turns out to be a bad thing. Something where the faster healing is making things worse. I would prefer something other than the standard, super-healing allows for more torture without death. “He's lucky – to have the serum, to have you all.” Tony wasn't sure about that first part. When one faced death and destruction every day on the job, there were many advantages to having a healing factor...and a great many disadvantages as well.
A Glossary of the 21st Century
Pairings: pre-Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Steve's sick of not understanding what's going on, and the team are not all that helpful, so he starts keeping an illustrated notebook for further research. With the help of wiki, google and Logan he starts to settle in and find his place in the twenty-first century.
Blanket Gift Policy
“You didn’t,” Bucky said, with no real hope of being contradicted. Clint shrugged helplessly and passed him the large, soft bundle wrapped in shiny purple foil.
“Sorry.” Tony covered his eyes with one hand.
“I’m getting a migraine.”
“So,” Bruce said wearily, “counting Clint, me, Bucky, Tony, and Sam, that brings it up to five.”
“Excuse you, mine’s not a blanket,” Sam said. “Mine’s a slanket. Big difference.”
Bucky resisted the urge to throw the whole heap of parcels at Sam’s head. “Because it has sleeves? It’s still a blanket, Wilson. They’re all blankets. Even Thor’s direct-from-Asgard raven gift delivery was a cloak, which just means it’s a blanket with a strap. We all got Steve a goddamn blanket.”
One Tin Soldier
Written for a prompt at avengerkink: Because really, under any other circumstances, why would they follow him when he's some guy who's younger than the rest of them (time as a Capsicle aside), who goes around wearing that spangly outfit, who's not even used to the modern world? Why Steve Rogers, rather than a Norse god or the CEO of Stark Industries or anyone else?
“Love is for children,” she'd said, but respect knew no such bounds. The five times the Avengers accepted Steve as their leader, and the one time they followed without question.
and if there's life we'll see it
Steve is instantly taken with this idea of having the picture of the person calling you flash on your screen when they ring your cell.
Secure Your Own Oxygen Mask (Before Assisting Others)
Steve keeps going, because they need him. Being Captain America - having the serum - is a responsibility and a privilege he takes seriously, and he won't waste it by sitting around resting in the middle of a crisis. But then the work is over, and the original victims of the crisis aren't the only ones needing looking after.
Way of the Eagle
Clint introduces Steve to kung-fu movies. Things escalate quickly.
Walking Wounded
In the aftermath of the battle against the Chitauri, Steve's doing just fine. Until he's not. Fortunately, Thor is a perfect mother-hen, Tony makes decent back-up, JARVIS is a genius, and Soap Operas are life-changing. (Or, Post-Shawarma Feels.)
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Serendipity (Reid Fic) Part 1
A/N: If you’re wondering if this is at all based on Rosie and Marco’s storyline in “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” then you should know - it totally is.
Summary: An FBI gathering brings Reader and Spencer together after years of distance. This one night changes not only their future, but their perspective on the past. Category: Angst, Smut, *NSFW content Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: Mentions of traumatic childhood, child neglect, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, menstruation, pregnancy Word Count: 10.2k
I originally thought I would be able to fit everything into 1 part, but after further reconsideration, this will be a two part series.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
Serendipity: (n). Finding something good without looking for it.
A word I would only come to truly understand many months from now on a warm Thursday morning in May at St. Mary’s Hospital.
But whenever my thoughts drifted back towards the past, I would always remember that this was how it all began - on a chilly Saturday night in the heart of D.C.
Not more than four hours ago, Emilia and I drove down here for an F.B.I function that hired us. Under normal circumstances, we wouldn’t have agreed to be the caterers for an event so far away, but we eventually signed on after learning that there were at least 600 people attending. That meant a considerable amount of customers and an exorbitant amount of money. Saying yes was clearly a no brainer.
Just to put it into perspective of how big this event would be, Emilia and I got lucky if we could park somewhere with 80 customers. 80. So this event would be colossal for us.
But who would have guessed that in a crowd of 600, I would run into the one and only - Spencer Reid.
To preface, this wasn’t just any old birthday party, parade, or festival. It was a celebration and a grand one at that. Considering it was a private event at the Washington Monument, we were given special instructions to abide by the black-tie formal dress code that guests had to follow, too. I guess the caterers can’t look like slobs in the United States’ Capitol, now can they?
I definitely spent more time than I should have deciding on what outfit to wear, but my conscientiousness, or rather indecisiveness, did pay off in the end. For I would run into someone worth the trouble of impressing.
My hair, unlike Emilia’s, was down and curled in big waves, and on one side, some of my hair was tucked behind my ear and designed to stay that way thanks to copious amounts of hairspray and an ungodly total of bobby pins. Emilia lent me a black, floor-length dress that had a plunging v-neck that didn’t fit her anymore, but luckily, fit perfectly on me. Although I would have to remember not to lean over too far tonight, otherwise, the customers might get a show they didn’t pay for. I, however, didn’t look half so good as my business partner.
Emilia was clad in a navy blue silk dress with puffy sleeves and a high collar; the dress clung to her every curve, including her newly protruding belly bump. She looked regal and pregnant all at the same time, qualities I hadn’t seen coexist in anyone but the Queens and Duchesses in England.
“Well, don’t you look hot?” Emilia purred, running her fingers through my curls, then letting them fall and sway back into place.
“Are you kidding? You are quite literally a sexy mama.” I gushed to her, receiving a light chuckle in return.
“Yeah, well, when you’re five months pregnant, tell me how sexy you feel in a tight dress.” She remarked, turning her back to me while she arranged all the supplies in the kitchenette behind me. But even as she faced away from me, she still managed to recognize the effect her words had. Maybe it was something in my silence, or our sister-telepathy, but Emilia immediately felt the room depress. In an effort to take back the remark that turned the room cold, she sweetly added while hugging me from behind, “You’re gonna be a mom one day, too. I promise.���
I leaned into her embrace, feeling guilty for ruining the moment while also feeling burdened by the reminder of the terrible reality I had to face every day.
Ever since I could remember, I thought I was destined to be a mother, but that destiny had yet to be fulfilled.
Emilia was born only three years after me, and though that age gap isn’t big enough for me to be mistaken for her mother, I, she, and our younger brother Saul would all agree that in many ways I was their mom. I was the parent our parents never were. I was there for everything - soccer games, dance recitals, winter musicals - never getting the chance to participate in my own, but always attending their’s.
I had to admit sometimes it was a burden, having to grow up so fast and help raise my siblings while still trying to navigate through my own struggles of adolescence, but I saw it as something I was meant to do.
See, I wouldn’t have minded all the responsibilities of being a parent so much when it’d be my own kids that I’d be fulfilling them for - when it would be by my choice to fulfill those responsibilities and not by unfortunate birth order.
However, as the years have gone by, my calling to be a mother has gotten quieter and quieter and quieter until eventually, I don’t think I’ll be able to hear it anymore.
It’s not that I can’t have kids, but the fear of rushing into having one is what’s stopped me from pursuing that dream.
As someone who grew up with divorced parents and practically became my siblings only reliable caregiver, I knew what having a baby too soon could do to a family. So rather than repeating history, I chose to wait to have kids. I didn’t want to make the same mistakes my parents did, and so I lived my life. I traveled all across the globe, I met new people, tried new things, I even started this taco truck business with Emilia.
But still that gaping hole in my chest remained. A hole that nothing could ever fill the way that a child would.
No amount of living could make up for the emptiness of a life with no family.
I could pretend all I wanted that I was happy living out my twenties, but the truth was I didn’t want to spend the rest of my years working in a food truck, amounting to nothing more than a mediocre cook and middling entrepreneur. That was never my dream - as exciting as it was.
My real dream was to have a good life. The kind my parents never had thanks to the unplanned arrival of me. The kind my baby sister was already living out.
“You know what? It’s a really nice night out. I think I might go for a walk. Do you wanna come?” Was this my blatant avoidance of breaching the subject of pregnancy? Yes, but it was also my escape from this food truck that felt like it was getting smaller and smaller and smaller by the second.
“No, I’m okay. I’ll just get everything ready.” Emilia resigned.
She knew why I was really leaving - sister-telepathy, I’m telling you - but she didn’t feel the need to acknowledge it. For that, I was thankful. Maybe we were better at communicating with no words at all.
I carefully stepped off the back of the truck, making sure to hike up my dress high enough so I wouldn’t trip over the mess of fabric when my feet hit the floor. The nippy December air felt like a cool balm on my hot skin. I was burning up in that truck, and maybe it was nerves or something else, but I just had this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. There was no explanation for it, but I realize now that the pit in my stomach was caused by something my intuition could sense but something my mind couldn’t understand.
Someone important from my past was here tonight.
As I sauntered around the monument, I took in the breathtaking view of the structure’s silhouette against the blazing orange sky that melted into an ocean blue. I regretted not bringing my phone to take a picture of it so I could show Emilia when I got back, but that one regret quickly turned into another when the night sky’s breeze brought a rude awakening. My body shivered at the frigid gust of wind that blew through and I suddenly started to regret not bringing a jacket.
“Are you cold?” A gentle voice asked me from behind.
I slightly recoiled out of shock of someone being there. When I turned around though, I couldn’t quite make out any distinguishable features. All I knew for sure was that this was certainly a man, and a tall one, too.
“Um, just a little.” I bashfully admitted, crossing my arms to hug myself and maintain some warmth. I hadn’t even thought about my dress’s plunging v-neck or the fact that I was practically squeezing my breasts together, accentuating them even further, but by the time, I realized, it was too late. He was already looking. But not at my chest. Somewhere far more invasive.
My eyes.
“Here, take my jacket.”
My small protests did nothing to stop him as he inevitably slipped the coat around my shoulders anyway. He’d come so close that I could finally see him and smell him. And let me tell you, if the sight of him wasn’t enough to break an overflowing dam of memories, then his smell certainly sent a flood that would.
“Oh my god,” I quietly gasped, my hand flying to my mouth to cover its un-ladylike gaping.
“Spencer Reid?”
I squinted my eyes and cocked my head even further to find evidence to support my assumption, and sure enough, I found exactly what I was looking for.
I was frozen in place as I deeply examined his face. My God! I mean, in many ways, he hadn’t changed a bit since the last time I saw him. Same dazzling hazel eyes. Same uniquely adorable nose. Same over-stimulated pink lips. I wonder if he still bit them as much as he did back then?
But at the same time, he was so different. Of course, I could still discern the same features I used to study endlessly back then, but his face had transformed into a man’s. He lost the glasses for one thing, but he also had a softer jawline, longer hair, and for lack of a better term, a beefier build.
He was all grown up now, and yet, I could still identify the same boyishly handsome charm that made me fall in love with him more than a decade ago.
“I knew it was you, (y/n).” He chuckled, sounding half proud of himself. My heart fluttered at the sound of my name on his tongue and the action that followed. With his eyes locked on mine, he tucked strands of my hair back behind my ears; it’s as if he were saying, “Let me get a good look at you.”
“How? It’s almost completely dark outside. You could barely even see me.” Certainly, you can understand why I was skeptical. Sounded too good to be true, if you ask me.
He shook his head lightly with a smile, seemingly questioning how I couldn’t possibly know the answer to that question. “No one else looks like you. Not even in the dark.”
His words spoke to a part of my soul specifically reserved for him. They were so genuine that I almost didn’t want to believe them because how could someone speak such lovely things and truly mean them? The world wasn’t that good a place. Certainly not good enough for Spencer Reid.
In that moment, I flew out of my own body and watched this entire scene unfold from up above. I could see the version of a girl I hadn’t seen in years, not since that last interaction with Spencer. She had these big lovesick eyes as she swooned over a man with just the same lovesick look.
The excessive upward tilt of my head and the way his neck craning down must’ve made it seem like we were about to kiss, but I knew better than to expect such a thing from Spencer Reid. And if anything, what we were doing right now was much more intimate than kissing.
“Wow, you ... you really grew up. You look great.” My own voice sounded unfamiliar to me after the words slipped from my mouth without even registering in my brain first.
“Are you kidding? Look at you! I mean, you are just ...” He paused for a moment to look me up and down, and I nearly shivered at the thought that he was practically undressing me with his eyes. “You’re absolutely beautiful. But you always were.”
I was almost completely in a daze when I heard a hideous squawk of a bird flying overhead. This wouldn’t make sense, but it nearly felt like a sign. Like the bird knew I wasn’t supposed to be there, reminding me of where I belonged - reality - not in this fantasy with Spencer.
“Um,” My head spun as I drew back from him. “I should probably get back. I’ll see you later.” I touched his upper arm gently as I passed by him, and it stunned me how warmth just radiated off of his body.
To my all too quick goodbye, he simply waved and watched me walk past him with a pursed-lip smile. And just before I got too far, I thought I heard him say, “I hope so.”
Though my feet were carrying me away from Spencer, my thoughts were only drifting closer to the memory of him, and we did have so many memories.
11 Years Ago ...
I was at the ripe age of 16 when I got my driver’s license. And to anyone else, this would seem like a given milestone, but to me - it was so much more. With the obtainment of my license, I also gained access to a whole new world. Opportunities poured at the seams. I could drive anyone and anywhere I wanted to and though it wasn’t true, it felt like I could do anything, too. But like all things good in my life, it fell apart in the face of responsibilities.
My newly obtained license was just another way for my parents to exploit me. Now, they didn’t have to drive Emilia and Saul since I could. Looking back, I have to wonder if the only reason they funded my driver’s ed classes were for the exact reason that if I took them, I’d sooner be able to take on yet another helping of duties they were too lazy to fulfill.
There’s one particular moment I can remember from this age and that same moment could also be regarded as the catalyst that would set off a series of events for the next 11 years to come.
It was the end of the school year and summer vacation was right around the corner. I was a sophomore at the time, and the prospect of being a junior the next year excited me.
To kick off the start of summer, Melody Hanes was throwing a pool party at her house. Everyone knew she was filthy rich because of a dead grandpa or some other, not to mention, she was also in student government so she had just as big of a role in school as her grandpa’s death did in making the Hanes family wealthy.
Though I never knew her personally, I did have third period chemistry with her for the entire year, and I sat right in front of her for pretty much the entirety of second semester. She must’ve only addressed me a handful of times, but she still invited me to her party anyway. Proximity, I had to admit, did play a part in that though because if I sat just a seat farther away, then I wouldn’t have been.
I came home that day, thrilled to tell my mother about my invitation. It would’ve been my first party that wasn’t a distant relative’s birthday celebration or a childish sleepover in elementary. It was my first real high school party, and for once, I thought - maybe I’d finally get the quintessential ‘high school experience.’
But of course, I never did.
As soon as I got home, I parked my car in the driveway, got the mail, and came inside the house to see my mother sitting on the couch watching TV, as per usual. While I was telling her about my invitation, she didn’t bother to lower the volume or even look away from the screen to give me her undivided attention, and when she did look away, it was only to take the mail from my hands.
“Your sister’s science fair is on that day, and you have to take her because I’ll be working from 1 to 7.” My mother never once looked up from the mail she was sorting through to address me. And her words, while incredibly monotone, were also spoken with such finality, like what she said was the last she ever wanted to speak on the topic. No room for discussion.
I’m not still losing sleep over it, but at the time, it felt like for once, I could actually just be a teenager and be young and reckless like everyone else, but that it was just taken from me. I never got the chance to be a kid again.
With the exception of Emilia’s science fair.
I knew my father wouldn’t be there, and obviously my mother wouldn’t, so I stayed to watch her presentation and to walk around the rest of the time. She deserved someone in her corner, and that someone was me. Even if no one was in mine.
As I serpentined through the cafeteria, a bittersweet feeling came upon me. From paper mâché volcanoes to potato batteries, I observed a childlike sense of wonder that I hadn’t felt for years.
Here, I was surrounded by children who got to be just children. They got to occupy themselves with trivial matters, like how gardens grow or if video games actually do rot your brain.
Their problems had solutions and their questions had answers, and it almost made me wish that I could revert back to a time where life was that easy, but I couldn’t because it never was … not for me.
So to sum it up, it was precious and heartbreaking all at the same time.
While browsing the fair, I stumbled upon a man that didn’t quite seem to fit in, and maybe it was my own unfitting appearance that made me recognize his. He could’ve very well been the brother of one of these children, but something about the way he was dressed and the way he carried himself made me highly doubt that.
He couldn’t have been a parent either, for he was not too far off from my own age, and if he was a parent of one of these eighth graders, that would have to mean that he had a kid when he was in kindergarten. So for all intents and purposes, he wasn’t someone’s brother or someone’s father. Who he actually was - I didn’t know, but I was determined to find out.
After that first observance, I spotted him a couple more times, but it wasn’t until we were looking at the same project that we actually spoke.
“Fascinating, isn’t it?”
The sudden sound of his voice alarmed me, but only because it seemingly came out of nowhere. Generally, before someone speaks to you, you notice signals that they’re about to, which helps you prepare for conversation. Whether it’s nervous twitches, a look in your direction, maybe even a small acknowledging smile, you’ll recognize they want to or plan to talk to you, but none of those signs were given to me. Even when I turned my head to give him my attention, he was still fixated on the project in front of us.
“Yeah, it really is,” I politely agreed. I awkwardly looked around the room as if I’d find an answer as to what to say next because I did want to keep talking to him, but the longer I stayed silent, the more I fear he’d begin to think I didn’t want to. With nothing else to ask but the question that had been bothering me since I first laid eyes on him, I simply went for it.
“So, who are you here for?”
For the first time, he turned his head to the side to look right at me. With a quizzical expression, he responded. “Oh, no one. I’m just a judge here.”
It was my turn to possess a quizzical expression. His statement wouldn’t have been weird, except for the part where any judge I’d seen or talked to were all well into their forties or fifties.
“Aren’t you kinda young to be a judge? You’re, like, what? Seventeen, eighteen?
“Nineteen actually. But I regularly come to judge the Summer Science Fairs here since I went to this middle school eleven years ago.”
Again, I would’ve taken his word for it, but the math didn’t make sense. “You were in middle school at eight years old?”
“Mhm. I ended up graduating high school at twelve.” He said it so nonchalantly, but for how big of a feat it was, I thought it would’ve deserved a more prideful tone, yet he still maintained such a cavalier one. Did he not think himself to be impressive?
“Jeez, you must be really smart.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, which made me notice that he wasn’t carrying a clipboard like the other judges, which was probably another reason why I didn’t take him for one. How would he be able to remember the projects that he was considering for awards? He’d have to have some magical memory for that.
Before answering, he began to walk away, but nonetheless he continued addressing me, so I followed him where he went.
“Mmm not necessarily. My IQ isn’t high enough to suggest I’m a provable genius yet, but I do have an eidetic memory and I can currently read 16,000 words per minute, which definitely helps. I hope to be able to read 20,000 words per minute in the future.”
Despite answering my question, he only left me with many more.
“What is your IQ right now?”
“131.”
My eyes widened. Even I, with my limited knowledge on intelligence quotients knew that was high, especially for someone as young as he was.
“So what IQ score do you have to have in order to be considered a genius?”
I couldn’t help but notice how he barely took anytime to think before answering me. It’s like his brain just knew everything, right then and there.
“A score of over 140 is considered a genius or near genius.”
“Wow, so you’re almost a genius then?”
“Almost, but not quite. If I receive diverse stimulation at a consistent rate for the next few years, I predict that I’ll have an IQ of 180 or higher by the time I’m in my early twenties.”
You would think he would leave me speechless, but I still went on to ask him about what an eidetic memory was, and he explained to me that he could remember things exceedingly well, but that it was not the same thing as a photographic memory. He made that distinction very clear to me.
Our conversation droned on for the rest of the fair as we continued to circle the cafeteria. I can’t count how many times we lapped around the same projects, but we never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Once those first few seconds after meeting him, when I didn’t know what to say, passed, I never again felt a sense of not knowing. We could talk for hours and hours, and it wouldn’t matter. I would never get bored.
How could I? When I was with him, it felt like the rest of the world just faded away. Our discourse flowed so easily, no pressure, no awkward silence. It was just me and him, and if you ask me, that’s quite the opposite of boring.
That was the first and final time I ever truly felt like a kid. Just like the ones in the science fair. Not a care in the world except for my morbid curiosity of the marvel that was him.
Alas, all good things must come to an end, and I inevitably found myself being ripped out of my trance when I felt an aggressive tug on my sweater.
“We can go now.” Emilia interrupted.
I hadn’t even noticed that a majority of the poster boards were taken down and that an even larger majority of the people were long gone, too. I got so lost in the conversation that I didn’t realize we were one of the last people still there.
Emilia’s eagerness to leave was apparent as she pulled me away from my interesting conversationalist.
“I had a nice time talking to you!” I called out to him, walking backwards to lengthen the period of time I could keep looking at him.
“Likewise.”
I turned around fully just before I finally realized something. “Hey!” I yelled across the distance. “I never got your name!”
He bashfully smiled and looked down at his feet briefly. “It’s Spencer! Spencer Reid!”
I stood there for a moment, silently processing his name.
“What’s yours?” He yelled back.
I chuckled mischievously. “I guess you’ll have to find out next time.” My ambiguity puzzled him and intrigued him all at the same time.
“Next time?”
With the intentions of leaving him without a true answer, I simply turned on my heels and started walking away.
“Bye, Spencer!”
Even if he didn’t have an eidetic memory, I knew after that first day, he could never forget me.
- Present Time -
By the time I made it back to the truck, people were already lining up to order.
“Get over here!” Emilia squealed excitedly from the window, her hand rapidly waving me over as if it’d suddenly increase my speed. I ran back as fast as I could in a dress and heels and climbed into the truck, mirroring my sister’s zeal.
When I stepped in, Emilia took one glance at me and furrowed her brows. “Where’d you get the jacket?”
Had she not mentioned it, I would not have remembered the foreign fabric that wrapped around my shoulders.
“Oh, shoot!” I palmed my forehead after the realization dawned on me. I should’ve noticed sooner that I still had it on, but honestly, it didn’t feel unusual or out of place. It was comfortable and familiar, like it was meant to be there that entire time.
“I’m so sorry to do this to you, but do you think you can handle this alone for just a second? I have to return this to a friend.” I asked while slipping off the coat to ready myself to leave, even in the event that Emilia said she wouldn’t let me go. Luckily though, she understood it was urgent.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. Just hurry back.”
I extended my head to look out just past the side of the truck to look for Spencer while still being concealed within the vehicle. Now that there were more people here, I wasn’t exactly sure I should be caught mingling with the attendees, so instead, I decided to search for him from the truck, rather than wandering around the party, giving the impression to the people that hired us that I wasn’t doing my job and was just here to socialize.
Luckily, there was something about my attachment to Spencer that was supernatural. I had this metaphysical ability to spot him even in a crowded place. I could find him anywhere. But whether that was a blessing or a curse was to be determined because right as my paranormal power kicked in, I found him. And there he was - standing next to another girl, a proximity much too close and a smile much too big to be anything less than flirtatious.
I paused to recall the image I had of myself earlier, when I floated up and out of my own body. I looked just like her - an oversized grin combined with lovesick eyes.
But that’s not the worst part.
The worst part was he was returning just the same look of attraction to her.
“Um, actually,” I re-entered the truck completely, tossing the jacket aside haphazardly. “I’ll just return it later.”
“You sure? You can go. I’ve got things covered right now.” She said between multitasking at a rate that even I, a very-much-not-pregnant-woman, could manage.
All I could mutter back without giving away the sharp ache in my heart was, “Yeah, I’m sure.”
_ _ _
After hours and hours of non-stop working, the night, at last, was coming to a close. The large crowd had sized down considerably, until I could no longer hear the sound of a thousand voices meshing. All the decorations were already coming down by the time Emilia and I finished packing up the truck. Without the hectic energy to cause adrenaline to course through my veins, it should’ve been peaceful, yet my heart was not at peace.
I couldn’t shake the gut-wrenching feeling of seeing Spencer with that girl, but that wasn’t really why I was upset. It was more about the fact that I’d actually believed for a second that I had any chance with him. I should’ve known he wasn’t single, and the fact that I let myself swoon over him again angered me all the more. If I ever had a chance with Spencer, the time to act on it was long gone.
Now, I had to live with that.
“You sure you wanna stay here alone? I’ll come with you if you want me to.”
Emilia’s question was referring to my proposal to stay in D.C for the night while she drove home. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but I realized I couldn’t handle being in another suffocating car ride with Emilia. It had nothing to do with her - just that I needed alone time to process everything by myself. If I knew my sister as well as I thought I did, I knew she would’ve sensed something was wrong and tried to coax me into talking about it, which I was not in the mood to do. Plus, traveling for so long made me nauseous just thinking about it. Although, I didn’t have a plan, I knew that I just wanted to hail a cab and find a hotel somewhere here for the night.
“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me. Call me when you get home.” I tapped on the back of the truck twice to let her know she was good to drive away, and I felt the car lurch forward per my request. When the truck finally did move, out from behind it appeared the tall figure of none other than Spencer.
I was surprised, but only for a second, when that surprise turned into pain once more. Playing it cool so my afflictions wouldn’t be suspected, I nonchalantly stated, “Here’s your jacket, by the way. Sorry, I forgot to give it back to you earlier.”
I extended my arm far enough so that we’d still have a great distance between us when he went to grab it, but sure enough, my actions were all for naught when he not only refused to remove his hands from his pockets to take it but also walked two steps closer to me than he needed to be. I looked like an idiot just standing there with my arm so outstretched, only for him to not grab it and to let it simply press against his stomach as a complete avoidance of getting it back.
“You were supposed to keep it. That’s why I didn’t ask for it back.” He curtly replied, finishing his statements with a cheeky grin. However, I wasn’t in the mood to return it. I simply stood there and shook the jacket in my hand to emphasize its presence.
“Take it. Please.” My voice was full of contradictions. I tried to be assertive with my command, and yet my plead only softened the order and showed a defeat I wasn’t even aware of until I heard how sad it sounded. “I don’t want it, Spencer.”
He no doubt saw the shift in my demeanor but still wouldn’t pacify me by taking the jacket. “What’s wrong? What did I do?” His voice got quieter, as if speaking any louder would shatter me in this fragile state of being.
“Nothing, I’m just tired and I want to go home.” This wasn’t a complete lie. I was exhausted from working for hours and hours on my feet with no breaks in between, but it wasn’t exactly the full truth either. He could tell.
“Just tell me what’s wrong.” He persisted. “Please.”
The only way I could describe what I happened next was like the vision of a boiling pot. Gradually, I was heating up until I finally got so overheated that I just boiled over and exploded.
“What don’t you get, Spencer? I don’t want your jacket!” Fury consumed my tone. “And I don’t think your girlfriend would want that either.”
“Girlfriend? What girlfriend? What are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend!” His words were flying out of his mouth at 100 mph as he desperately trying to mend what couldn’t be fixed.
“Don’t play dumb. I saw you with that blonde girl. How close you two were standing, the way you were looking at each other.” Just having to recount the interaction made the horrid memory come back vividly into the forefront of my thoughts, and it broke my heart all over again. I shut my eyes painfully as though it would turn off the image of them together, but this only allowed for Spencer to wrap his warm hands around my upper arms and pull me closer to him without my knowing. I flinched unconsciously at the sudden feeling of his touch, to which he instantly let go.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His hands shook with remorse for letting them touch my body in a way that elicited that reaction. They hovered in the space between us, not knowing where to go that would suddenly make things okay. “But she’s no one, okay? She’s just a coworker.”
I wanted to believe him. I quite possibly did believe him, but there was still a sharp pain in my chest. Call it intuition.
“No, she’s not,” I shook my head. “She’s not ‘no one’... you love her.”
Spencer came closer but still didn’t let himself touch me again out of fear that I might draw back even further.
“Listen to me - whatever feelings I used to have for her are long gone. She’s married, (y/n). She has a kid. And none of that even matters because the way that I used to love her is nothing compared to the way that I-”
“Don’t.” I held my hand up in protest. “Don’t say you love me.”
His eyebrows knit together with dismay. “Why? Why not? It’s true. I love you. I always have.”
With one big sigh, I finally resigned to my emotions. “Then why didn’t you ever do something about it?”
Judging by the deflation of his shoulders and the far off look he got in his eyes, he knew exactly the moment I was talking about.
Two days after Emilia’s science fair, I drove to the library to pick up books I needed for my summer homework. I was already on my way out when I just happened to glance to my side, noticing a lone figure sitting at the bus stop. I didn’t think anything of it, but when I looked back, I partially recognized him. I shaded my eyes from the sun and squinted harder to confirm my suspicions.
“Spencer?” I wondered out loud.
The figure’s head turned around, narrowed their eyes, and waved. He stood up from his seat and made his way over to me with a precious little jog-walk. Although we had only met once before, we still embraced each other like lifelong friends.
“Do I finally get to know your name now?” He jokingly inquired after pulling away.
It completely slipped my mind that I’d denied him the knowledge of my name, but for my own satisfaction, I wouldn’t let him get off that easily.
“Do you have any guesses of it could be?”
He pouted childishly. “Are you kidding? In a population of 350 million people, there would be about 4.4 million names. But if every country on Earth had the same nominative diversity we in the US have, that would suggest about 750 million unique names exist.”
I must admit it was fun watching him melt into a flustered mess of facts, but I was growing just as impatient as him. “Come on, just guess. You might be right.”
He rolled his eyes but indulged me willingly anyway. “Okay ... um ... Catherine.”
“Nope.”
“Nicole.”
“Nope.”
“Gertrude.”
“Seriously?” I raised my eyebrows. He shrugged. “Nope.”
“Olive.”
“Pretty,” I smiled, making his face light up, too. “But no.” His smile fell.
“This is nearly impossible.” He sighed.
“Nothing’s impossible.” My delivery wasn’t as cheesy as the line itself, so it touched us both in a way that made that silly phrase feel like it’d never been said before. With a visible passion reignited in him, he continued.
“Francis.”
“Okay, maybe this is impossible.”
My blunt joke brought us closer together, our heads almost knocking into one another’s as we clutched our stomachs and leaned forward to support our all-consuming laughter. When we finally calmed down, I finally confessed.
“Okay, okay - it’s (y/n).”
He stood there completely silent. There was no expression of his face that indicated he planned on speaking, so I elaborated. “It’s not as good as the name Spencer, I know I know -”
“I’ve never known anyone with that name before.” His hushed voice cut into mine so innocently.
My cheeks heated from the slight compliment. “Well, now you do. And don’t you forget it.” I teased. With nothing further to say, I brushed past him to start walking away, when unconsciously, I spun my keys around my index finger and heard the familiar jingle of the metal, reminding me of something.
“Hey, Spencer?” I turned on my heels. “Can I give you a ride home?”
And so began our routine for the entire summer. I would bring my summer homework to the library, and Spencer would help me understand it, or even complete it, and then I’d give him a ride home. We’d go to the park and read, or we’d go to the movies, or we’d hang out at a diner. And each time, I’d drop him off.
The more time we spent together, the more I learned about him and his life. He told me about his mom, his dad - everything. I did just the same. I told him about my mom, my dad, my siblings - everything.
Perhaps we enjoyed spending so much time together because it was a sweet escape from our houses that weren’t homes. But every time we did hang out, we just got closer and closer, and by the end of the summer, I knew my feelings perfectly clear.
I love Spencer.
If missing that pool party at Melody Hanes was what it took to find the absolute love of my life, then what a small price to pay it was. I wouldn’t have traded a million pool parties for that one chance encounter with Spencer at the science fair.
One day, we were pulling into his driveway after having a picnic at the country club, and I’d just let him out of the car, when unconsciously, I said, “Bye, Spence! Love you!”
He caught the words faster than I did. He looked like a deer in headlights, and it took me at least two seconds more to figure out why. That entire day I’d been thinking about saying it, but by the end, I decided it’d be better not to, and yet, it just came out anyway.
“You love me?”
There were two ways I could’ve answered. The first was to deny it and say that I only meant that I loved him like a friend. The second was to be brave and validate my unintentional confession.
In the heat of the moment, I chose the latter.
“Yes.” I nodded, smiling from my own courage. You only live once right?
In a cruel twist of fate, Spencer never tried to speak, and instead, ran to his front door.
“Spencer!” I yelled. “What are you-”
He gave me one last look over his shoulder before he opened the door and closed it right behind him. That was the last I ever saw him.
I learned, that day, that you do only live once.
But you can die over and over again.
From that point on, he’s lived in my mind as the one that never was.
Regret and shame manifested on Spencer’s face. “I never wanted to hurt you.” He dejectedly began. “But I was young and-and dumb and just ... so scared. God, I was so scared.” He finally looked up, if for no other reason than to gauge my reaction. “I liked you so much, but I, I just couldn’t open myself up to the possibility of being hurt by another person I loved.”
Much like my own life, Spencer’s was riddled with traumatic experiences. Except rather than being expected to take care of younger siblings, he had to take care of his mom. And having to be a parent to your own parent? That’s something I would never wish upon anyone else.
“I ... I get it.” It was a sweet surrender, my words. After years of pent-up aggression borne from humiliation, rejection, and deep sadness, I could finally understand. “But as selfish as it sounds, I wish your past hurt hadn’t gotten in the way of our potential happiness.”
He took each of my hands in his, encasing them with palms of warmth. “Then don’t let the same thing happen right now. Don’t let the stupid, broken teenager I was cloud your judgement of the man I am now. Let me prove to you that I’ve changed.”
I stood there silently, an eerie parallel to how Spencer reacted to my confession eleven years ago.
“When I saw you, it felt like a second chance. A second chance to do what I was too afraid to do back then. And I couldn’t let myself make the same mistake twice.” His eyes were piercing through my soul. Every word plucked at my heartstrings, until I could no longer keep up with the symphony they were playing.
There was the slightest hesitation behind it, but I did inch forward. And in no time at all, Spencer saw the movement and made his own.
His hands released mine and shot straight for my cheeks to cup them gently, while kissing me firmly. He wasn’t the same shy boy he was, and this kiss was only proof of that. The way his lips were moving so fervently made me weak at the knees. He was so desperate and needy, like even with our lips touching, he still wasn’t close enough to me. Unleashed upon me was years of yearning wrapped in prominent lust.
“I love you.” He blurted clumsily on my lips. I didn’t return the sentiment, but that wasn’t why he said it. He wanted to say it so I’d know, not so that I’d say it back.
“You should know,” I muttered between kisses. “I’m not leaving D.C. until tomorrow morning.”
The biggest smirk creeped onto his face. Bastard.
Once we’d exhausted all the things we could possibly do in public, we ran to the nearest cab we could find and exhausted all the things we could do in that, too.
It was already past midnight when we arrived at Spencer’s apartment, and though we should’ve been quiet so as not to disturb the neighbors, we were still breaking out into a fit of giggles like a bunch of teenagers sneaking around as we ran up the stairs. We hadn’t even made it past the doormat, before he seized my hips in his hands and spun me back towards him. Forcefully, he pressed me against the door while simultaneously unlocking it. That shut me up real good, lemme tell you.
As soon as we crossed the threshold, he gave me a reprieve when he held me closer so as to stop pinning me against the door. In an effort to do the impossible, we stumbled through his apartment in a frenzy trying to undress each other while maintaining our bodily contact. With one giant tug of the zipper on my back, my dress fell to the ground. To his atonement, he left me in just a thong. Whereas he was much too overdressed in my opinion.
No sooner did I gracelessly unbutton his shirt than we ran into a plant against the wall. Our smiles practically ruined the kiss at the sound of the crash, but it remained nonetheless. I knew I was in for something, when Spencer paused to wait for me to unbuckle his belt. That was the first time we ever really stopped in place, but just as I anticipated, I was in for it.
When I finally freed his waist of the garment, he just as quickly placed his hand on the back of my thigh, and in one swift motion, hoisted me into the air high enough to allow my legs to wrap around his waist. My arms were loose around his neck and the feeling of his warm hands touching my bare skin sent a chill down my spine.
Due to Spencer’s essential hand placement on my body, I had to be the one to fumble with his bedroom’s doorknob until it finally gave way. Once more, we staggered through his room before he let our lips break apart to lightly toss me onto the bed. I giggled at the squeak of the bed, driving him visibly crazy.
He hastily unzipped his own dress pants, while I propped myself up on my elbows. When he met me on the bed, he hovered over me to the point of having to lay back down again just to see him clearly. He felt too far away so I drew him nearer by lacing my hand through his soft curls. I twirled one around my finger, which must’ve been too merciful for him to handle.
He placed his hand on the back of mine and slid it down to his cheek. He held my hand there for a moment, leaning into the skin of my palm prior to placing a chaste kiss on it.
He didn’t need to say it again for me to know what he was thinking.
I love you.
The anticipation was killing me and in the most impatient manner, I pulled him down to my level, mimicking his similar habit of face-grabbing during a kiss. I knew his hands would’ve flown to my face the way they did just minutes ago, but one was too preoccupied keeping himself up and the other was busy toying with the band of my thong. I shivered at the sensation of him slipping one finger under the material and letting it glide over my tender skin right above my heat.
“Spencer,” I mumbled in a kiss to bring his attention back to me. Although I was certainly interested to know the hidden talents of Spencer Reid and his fingers, I was restless. I’d been waiting years for this moment, and unlike most people, I didn’t want to wait another second. “I need you now.”
He pulled his head back so he could get a full view of my face to examine my sincerity. He wanted to know if I was sure, and my eyes told him such. He nodded in acknowledgement with such speed that I was sure he was craving this as much as I was.
Rather than looking at where our bodies were about to meet, I had to close my eyes so I could fully feel everything without any other sense taking that away from me. In a painfully slow manner, he lined himself up at my entrance. At first, he only lightly pushed in, and it was this slacken movement that made me cry out and grip his shoulders for stability.
He pushed further in until he was fully sheathed inside of me. There was a slight moment of regret for not letting him engage in foreplay before, but that quickly went away when the pain turned to pleasure. He gained more confidence in himself with each stroke, and I could feel it. The more powerfully he thrust, the more I felt myself tightening around him. The over simulation was a stark contrast from the stimulation I denied and so the sensation I was feeling was only heightened by the absence of it before. For that very reason, I knew I was already close. And maybe he knew it, too and just as sweet revenge, he decided to send me over the edge by pulling my leg over his shoulder to thrust into me a new angle. As I’m sure he predicted, I threw my head back as tears began to prick the corners of my eyes. He rode the ever exquisite border between pain and pleasure, and my tears were a manifestation of that. Not even a minute passed, before I tried to moan but pathetically failed, not even being able finish the pitiful wail without the both of us finishing together.
Our heavy panting synchronized and reverberated back to us while he slowed down his pace and pulled out.
Perhaps in the heat of the moment, we lost all logic and reason, considering that even up till now, neither of us had realized that he didn’t use a condom.
But what would eventually happen in the future as a result of this action, or inaction, would surely make us remember.
Spencer lowered himself down to kiss me breathlessly; strands of his hair clung to his forehead as sweat glimmered on both of us. Not until we were ready did we make our way to the bathroom so he could help clean me up. Once we returned, I gathered my clothes, but he made sure to grab my panties before I could even notice.
“Have you seen -“ I cut myself off when I saw what was dangling in his hands.
“Looking for this?” He teased.
All my energy had been spent on him that I couldn’t be bothered to fight for them back.
“Keep ‘em.” I smirked, my hand reaching down to pick up his jacket off the floor and hold it up. “Consider it a fair trade.”
No arguments from him.
Needless to say, I did end up finding a place to stay the night. Where and with whom you might ask?
Well, you can probably figure that one out for yourself.
_ _ _
I wish I could tell you I got a good night’s rest, and I could - it just wouldn’t be the truth.
Spencer and I spent the rest of the night just talking. We filled each other in on nearly ever second of the past 11 years, and once again, I found myself reverting back to the teenager I was at the science fair. The entire world revolved around us as we spoke to each other effortlessly, like no time had passed. Even in the periods of silence, I felt comfortable.
Spencer and I were lying on our sides facing one another when I felt compelled to profess that “I can’t talk this way with anyone. It’s just you.”
He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear with a small smile on his lips. He didn’t need to say that he felt the same way because I already knew. His hand never left my face but instead made its descent down my jawline and stopped at my chin. He raised his thumb to reach my lower lip, letting the pad of his finger graze over the soft skin of my lip.
It felt like he was tracing every detail of my body, running his eyes over every inch at least twice so as to fully commit everything to his memory.
At last, the tension broke when he positioned his hand comfortably at the back of my neck, bowing his head forward to kiss me. This one was quite different than our first, for it was gentler and warmer. We weren’t forcing ourselves to make up for lost time. In fact, this kiss was saying, “We’ve got plenty of time.”
Plenty of time indeed. Which we were happy to spend making love again.
And I will be the first to admit that if our first round of unprotected sex didn’t solidify our future predicament, this time certainly did.
Six Weeks Later ...
“Hello?” Clearly frustrated, Emilia waved her hand in front of my face to harness me back to earth. I hadn’t realized I zoned out until she scoffed at me. “Did you hear anything I just said?”
“No, sorry. Could you repeat it one more time?”
She set down the papers in front of her and sighed unhappily. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been so distant lately.”
It hurt to hear, even though it was the truth. I wasn’t intentionally being despondent, but it’s hard to be present when there’s so much occupying your mind, and there was one thing in particular that was keeping me up late at night recently.
My period has always been irregular. For as long as I’ve had it, I’ve always missed a few weeks, then it would become consistent, then it would be sporadic again. In fact, there was one year where I only had four periods total. So it didn’t strike me as odd when I realized three days ago that my last period was about seven weeks ago.
What did strike me as odd was the other symptoms I was experiencing. Menstruation cycles are known to closely mimic the symptoms of pregnancy, but with the knowledge that my period wasn’t coming, it was disconcerting to me that I was suffering the discomforts without the actual period itself.
To me, there was only one clear explanation for this anomaly.
I was pregnant.
Earlier in the day, I bought a pregnancy test and was late to work because of it. If Emilia hadn’t been suspicious of my behavior before, showing up late only made her suspicion greater.
I didn’t know when I’d take it, probably at home after work, but the anticipation was eating away at me. I would pace around the truck until Emilia finally told me to stop because the vehicle wouldn’t stop swaying with my every movement. I was biting my nails and chewing on each little piece that grew back just to bite it back down to the nub. My hands couldn’t stop shaking, my breathing wouldn’t slow down. I was a hysterical mess.
I didn’t tell Spencer any of my concerns, of course, but being as perceptive as he is, he noticed my strange mannerisms despite my best efforts to hide them.
“Your breathing just got faster. Are you feeling okay?” He paused the movie we were watching to check in on me one time. It should be known that the scene that caused my heavier breathing was a scene of a woman finding out she was pregnant and being absolutely devastated. I quickly brushed it off as just being too warm, to which he turned on his air conditioning. Luckily for me, he didn’t make the connection.
And it’s not that I didn’t want to tell Spencer - I really did - but why should I make a fuss about something if there ended up being nothing to worry about? That would just be extra stress, and the last thing a new, blossoming relationship needs is additional strain.
So without Spencer, I had to opt for the next best thing - my sister.
I’d reached my wits end, and I couldn’t keep up the act any longer. I was walking on eggshells with practically everyone I knew, and I’d sooner go crazy if I didn’t tell someone what I was really feeling. So in response to her question, I finally told the truth.
“I think I might be pregnant.”
You can imagine the shock on my sister’s face. Emilia’s jaw became one with the floor as her eyes widened so big I thought they would pop out of her head.
“You’re pregnant?” Already her eyes were welling up with tears of joy.
“I don’t know yet.” I put my arms around her to keep her calm and stable while the emotions began overpowering her. I wanted it to serve as a reminder to not get her hopes up, otherwise she’d get mine up, too.
“Well, have you taken a test?”
I reached for my purse behind her and rummaged through it until I finally retrieved the box. Holding it up, I reluctantly suggested, “I thought maybe you could be there for me when I did?”
She squealed with joyful elation, practically shattering the window pane with the high pitch of her voice. On top of that, she was jumping up and down with elegant grace that I had to wonder how her pregnant body could even manage to do such a thing.
“Of course, I will! Come, come, let’s go.”
We hopped off the truck and to the nearest restroom, which admittedly wasn’t the nicest of places, nor was the place I ever imagined as a child that I’d be finding out I was pregnant in, but it had to do for now.
When I first came out of the stall, I set the test face down on the sink, so that we wouldn’t see it until it was ready. Emilia set a timer for 10 minutes, but in the meantime, all we could do was wait. Neither of us could stay still; Emilia bounced up and down, rubbing her belly while facilitating some sort of breathing exercise. Meanwhile, I kept tapping my foot impatiently.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
Emilia’s alarm scared the shit out of me, and we both were startled by the blaring sound. It was so jarring, but even that wouldn’t compare to the fear I felt when I realized it was finally time.
“Do you wanna look or should I?” She asked.
“You look.” I said at first. But when she lunged forward to take it, I did, too. “No wait, I should.” Then another moment of hesitation. “No, you do it. I can’t.”
I held my hands over my mouth while I watched her carefully lift the test off the sink, maneuvering it in such a way that only she would see the results. I watched her expression closely for any sign of a reaction, but she was stoic as can be. I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed, happy - nothing. Complete and total poker face.
“Come on, Emilia! What does it say?” I blurted anxiously.
“Well, first, what do you want it to say?”
That was a question I hadn’t considered. I was so busy worrying about what I didn’t know, to pause and think about what I wanted to find out. On the one hand, I’d be ecstatic if the test confirmed that I was pregnant. I’d jump for joy because that was what I always wanted, right? But on the other hand, if it said I wasn’t pregnant, then I’d be sort of sad because I got so close to that lifelong dream. But after that, I’d probably just be relieved to have dodged a bullet.
“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I don’t know-”
“Don’t think. Just tell me. What do you want it to say?”
Without missing a beat, I replied, “Positive.” My sister and I alike were stunned by my answer. “Yeah,” I nodded slowly. “Positive. I want it to say positive.” I repeated, to cement my earnest desire.
Emilia’s facade melted away as she began to shake her head. “I’m sorry, (y/n). There’s only one line.”
We both knew what that meant, even if she didn’t explicitly say it. I sighed dejectedly, which was a surprise to even myself. I didn’t expect to be this disappointed, and yet I was. The knot it my stomach worked itself free, and where that pit used to be was just emptiness. My heart sunk and steadied itself, and my breathing resumed its normal pace.
“Well,” I bit my lip. “I guess that’s that.”
Emilia instantly drew nearer to pull me in for a hug, one I was not ready to accept but welcomed anyway. “I’m sorry, (y/n). But I mean, sometimes tests just come out with false negatives.” With her face still buried in the crook of my neck in our hug, she mumbled, “Not this one, though. This one’s positive.”
Immediately, I retreated from our hug and pulled her in front of my view. The sneaky girl had a huge grin that took up 99% of her face.
“You’re pregnant!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, shaking my body violently. We embraced each other in another hug while simultaneously jumping up and down. “I just wanted to trick you so you would know how you really feel. Now you know!”
And I did know. I did know that I wanted this baby and that I was glad it even existed.
Not long after our mini-celebration did I start to come down from the high of my euphoria. A certain realization dawned on me like a cloud of gray hanging above my head to rain on my parade.
What about Spencer?
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
PART 2 HERE!
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#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#serendipity#spencer reid#spencer reid kiss#fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader
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A Chime of Bells
Benedict Bridgerton x Reader
Part 5 of the If You’ll Have Me Series
Word Count : 3190
Warnings: 18+ Only - smut at the end obvs!
A/N: So this is the last official part of the series but I have so many spin off ideas and little moments I’d like to write about, as well as a prequal of how Y/N comes to be Duchess of Pembrokeshire ... also more Granville. Basically this series isn’t over and I will write more!!!
***
The warm summer breeze hit you as you stepped out of the church, the clear bright sky making the arches of blush roses stand out against the stark blue. You wobbled slightly as you stepped on the old cobbles of the church steps and you gripped tighter to the arm around yours, looking up to see Benedict smiling down at you. His gloved hand covered yours as you walked together to the awaiting carriage. The small ceremony had been held away from London, in the little church of the village nearest your new home. Benedict had never favoured London society and, London society, had never really favoured you. To that end Benedict had purchased a reasonably sized house on the Kent coast, only a short distance from Aubrey Hall but far enough that the ton would not easily come calling.
Benedict proffered a hand to help you into the carriage. “Mrs Bridgerton” he beckoned to you with a lopsided grin which you mirrored. Following after you, into the carriage, Benedict slid in beside you and rested his arm around your shoulder as the carriage began to move – the sound of church bells and his siblings cheering your departure ringing behind you. As the carriage trundled down the country lane, on its way to Aubrey Hall Benedict turned to you. “Are you happy to be Mrs Bridgerton?” he asked suddenly. You looked over, shocked.
Of Course, you were happy to be a Mrs Bridgerton, to be his wife. Surely, he knew how much you cared for him, how much you loved him. Your engagement hadn’t been particularly long but you both knew you knew each other long before you were seen together for the first time. “No. I’m ecstatic!” you smiled at his worried brow, cupping his cheek as you pulled him in to a kiss. He pulled back a little after returning the kiss. Only enough to see your glossy eyes staring back at him – his hand coming to cover yours that was placed on his cheek.
“But you were a Duchess.” He whispered just to you, leaning in closer to touch your foreheads together. “Now you’re just Mrs Bridgerton.” You laughed. His tone suggested that was a bad thing; and you knew, Benedict of all people cared as much for titles as he did for what ribbons his mother had chosen for Hyacinths bridesmaids dress.
“You should know by now that I do not care for titles. And being Mrs Bridgerton, is most definitely better than any title.” Your hand stroked his face, realisation blooming on it of how stupid he was being. Neither of you cared for a title and he knew that; but you were always expected to marry up in society and Benedict knew that by marrying him, you were marrying down. His arm wrapped behind you came to pull you in closer, so you were almost in his lap. His hand left yours and pulled your legs over his, so now you were. Your arms wrapped themselves over his broad shoulders and pulled him back to you, determined to show him just how happy you were.
Though the ceremony was small, which you had both wanted, Benedict had argued (unsuccessfully) for the size of the reception. It was a grand affair, held at Aubrey Hall, and true to his mother’s ‘suggestions’ the ballroom was crammed full of the crème de la crème of the ton. Although a lot of the ton were in attendance, thanks to Benedict’s last-minute interference with the guest list you made sure to only invite people you actually wanted there, including a lot of your artistic friend’s, making a surprisingly good impression on even some of the more reserved members of Society.
“Mrs Bridgerton.” A deep voice spoke from behind you. You turned to see Sir Henry Granville smiling at you over his glass. He bowed to you before joining you watch your guests.
“Sir Granville.” You smiled as you curtsied to him, “I do hope you are enjoying the evening?”
“Immensely darling.” He sighed “I do hope that now you are a married lady that will not mean that you, or your gorgeous new husband, will stay too long away from town.” Your eyes flit over to your gorgeous husband. Benedict stood by the wall of large arched windows, laughing with Colin at something Penelope Featherington had said. Oh the poor girl, her mother had dressed her again: a shimmering orange gown that matched her hair, with a delicate green lace to cut the two in half … she looked like a carrot. Your eyes drew back to Benedict; you could see from the other side of the room the laughter lines by his eyes, and the slight crookedness of his teeth that seemed to make him all the more cute. You only managed to sigh in response as you were lost in the scene before you, so content with your life for the first time in forever. Granville took your wispy sighs as confirmation he would not see either of you at his soirees for some months and stifled a giggle into his glass as he took a sip.
The party carried on until well into the evening, dancing and merriment stretched through several rooms of Aubrey Hall, and the gardens, where one lady of the ton was taught to juggle by several circus performers who had arrived earlier in the evening. By one in the morning you and Benedict were waving the last of your guests off from the front steps. Slumped against one another with silly grins on both of your faces, it was safe to say that the both of you were a little tired and a little tipsy. Violet Bridgerton had retired to bed just after midnight, shooing her youngest two back up the stairs with her from where they had been watching the party. Daphne and Simon had departed to their room shortly after as well, followed by Francesca who had to be carried to bed by Colin after falling asleep in a chair in the library. You and Benedict turned back to go inside. The footmen and maids had already started the clear up of the ballroom and gardens, picking up dropped napkins and sweeping away smashed glass. You bid Anthony and Kate goodnight, thanking them for hosting the evening; Colin followed after, cravat loose and waistcoat already unbuttoned. You didn’t even see Eloise go to bed, but you were told by Colin she had snuck away when one unfortunate young lord had made a most ungentlemanly remark and received a heeled slipper to the shin.
You and Benedict giggled at Colin’s retelling of the event, watching in contented silence as the last of the Bridgerton’s ascended the stairs. Well almost the last of the Bridgertons. You turned in Benedict’s arms to face him, smiling lazily at each other as his face came to rest in the curve of your neck. The light feeling that had been growing in your stomach bloomed in your chest as he began leaving soft, butterfly kisses along a column of soft skin there, just where you liked it. Your fingers clung onto his shoulders as your knees weakened. His hands roamed your back, the wide expanse of them and the heat they exuded seeped through your gown and sent goosebumps rippling over you.
By the time you were outside your room Benedict had you up against the wall, kissing you passionately as he searches blindly for the knob to open it. When he finally got you inside your honeymoon suite, he didn’t put you down, pressing you against the closed door as his hands slid up your thighs and under the layers and layers of chiffon and silk. Hastily ridding you of your silk stockings, the feel of his rough, artists, hands on your thighs made them quake around him, pulling a smirk from his mouth as he bit at your lower lip. Your hands found their way to his hair; the soft thick curls running through your fingertips felt divine and mad you cling to him further as he moved you over to the bed, pressing you back against the bed post so he could lower you to the floor.
His hands not leaving your body he pulled your long gown up your body as he stood to his full height. Pulling at the small bow at the back of your neck, he lifted the dress clean off of you – leaving you leaning against the dark oak bedpost, in your thin chemise. Benedict stared in awe at the practically see through garment: the pale fabric skimming down your body like warm milk. Your name echoed deeply from his chest as he eyed you hungrily; his eyes, usually so soft and tender, now looked dark and possessing. He stood for a moment, mind racing with the view before him. He had made love to you before, but now you were his wife. His. Wife. Forever. And the way you looked up at him through your lashes, not coy but knowing. You knew what you did to him, what you were doing to him. He could feel the length in his breeches growing with every movement of his eyes over your body. Breathing steadily through his nose to calm his heartbeat he tried to ignore the growing throbbing at the restraining fabric.
“You’re wearing too many clothes Mr Bridgerton” your silky words pulling him out of his daze as he looked to your face once more, stepping closer to encompass you.
“As my wife.” He paused “Mrs Bridgerton. I believe it is your responsibility to solve that.” He finished, his deep smooth voice mere inches from your ear. You slowly pushed his jacket from his shoulders, watching with a smouldering gaze as he assisted by pulling his cravat from his collar. Your eyes burnt into one another as neither broke eye contact, smiling, even as he toed off his boots. He made short work of his waistcoat, shucking it off as you began to unbutton his loose shirt, feeling his warm skin through the billowing linen. One he was free of it his hands wrapped back around your waist, not wasting a second in pulling you back into a steaming kiss, his tongue tracing your soft bottom lip, begging for entrance as his hands delicately try and pull the pins keeping your hair in place.
You spoke his name into the air like a prayer when you felt his heat seep into your bones, trailing your hands down his strong chest to pull his shirt free from his trousers, fingertips gently brushing over his stiff cock – trapped in confinement as you did so.
“Oh my love” he moaned as your hands brushed against his length. “Y/N, darling” he murmured, kisses departing from your lips to trail down your neck once more, his breeches falling no sooner than the buttons popped. As he bent down to kick them away, he grasped your legs again, circling them around his hips as he turned to kneel on the bed, walking you up onto it. His lips remained on yours, worshipping every piece of skin he could lay them on before lowering you back, softly so your head rested gently on the pillows beneath you.
As you landed on your back you smiled giddily up at him. The fleeting image of your last wedding night flashing before your eyes before you blinked and Benedict reappeared. Happiness flooded you as you thought of the comparison. Benedict’s soft kisses drew you out of your haze and you found yourself stroking his cheek as you had done in the carriage earlier. The soft murmur of his name drew his eyes back up to yours
“Yes, darling” the way his deep voice said those words, you don’t think you’d ever be used to that.
“I love you” you pushed at his chin to kiss him, savouring the way he felt above you, on top of you, how he tasted. You never want this moment to end and you couldn’t believe he was yours, Your Benedict. Smiling int your kiss, he pulled back when he felt wet on his cheek, realising you were crying into the kiss.
“Y/n, what is the matter?” he asked, worried.
“I’m just so happy my dear” you smiled as you cried some more; brushing a soft curl from his eyes that had flopped over into view. A comforting hand came to circle your waist once more, pulling you ever closer to his as his worship of your skin continued.
“Y/N. I love you so much.” His muffled words pressed into your neck in the form of kisses. “I will love you until the day I die and continue loving you long after.” He whispered “for as long as you’ll have me.” He smiled, tears in his eyes too.
“Make love to me?” you whisper into the space between you.
“Always” he smiled, kissing you once more on your lips, and continuing to press meaningful kisses down your clavicle and between your breasts, cupping them and inhaling your sweet scent as it surrounded him. As he descended lower on your body, his hands roamed and rumpled the soft silk of your delicate chemise, pushing it up your legs in a silent plea. You sat up to pull the chemise over your head, falling back again as Benedict’s soft lips graced your thighs, making you jump when he used his teeth to gently scrape at the soft flesh. You loved when he settled between your thighs, the way his tongue slide over your centre, the way it gently parted your lips and pressed you open against his face made you feel so alive. His eagerness to please you and draw any sound he could from between your lips made you shake with lust. As he sucked at you bud his eyes looked up at you through long dark lashes – the piercing blue of his eyes just visible above your thatch of hair. Your hand came down to card through his hair, pulling at it, not knowing whether you wanted him to stop and fuck you properly, or have him keep going forever.
“Every time I taste you, you get more and more exquisite” he growled, crawling back over you to steal a kiss from your bitten red lips, making you taste yourself from his glossy tongue.
“Benedict, get this off” you pleaded into his mouth, pulling as his open shirt. Complying with your wishes he tugged it over his head, revealing himself in all his glory. You’d never get tired of that sight.
“Now” he growled possessively “Where was I?”
“Taking your wife for the very first time?” you laugh softly at the insinuation. He lowered himself to cover you once more, his hand pulling your leg up over his thigh.
“Ah yes” he crooned smoothly “The very first time” his words punctuated by is head pushing into you. Since your re-entrance into society, many eyes had been beadily spying on you wherever you went, making rendezvous’ with Benedict all the more difficult - and when news of your announcement spread, any meeting outside of customary events had completely ceased. The stretch of his girth as he moved deeper into you sent a chill up your spine. You had missed the way he made love to you, the way he felt inside of you, and the way you could make him feel. Ever since that fortnight at Pembroke House, you had made it your life’s mission to give Benedict every ounce of pleasure you could.
As his thrust’s became rhythmic your moans began to echo into the darkened room. You began to roll your hips up to meet his, revelling the fullness and ecstatic ache of his cock inside you. His slow steady thrusts were scratching an itch but not fulfilling your need for him. You needed it faster; harder; you wanted to feel him in the morning and remember it whenever you found yourself in boring company. Benedict was getting lost in his rhythm, you could tell. His head was bent forward between you as he watched where he disappeared inside of you. His deep moans and hot heavy breaths hit your chest.
You raked your nails up his back, drawing his attention to your face as his head tipped back at the sensation. You took the opportunity to roll him over, pressing a hand to his chest to lay him down as you straddled his hips. Benedict’s hands came to rest on your hips as you pushed yourself back over down his thick silken cock, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh bound to leave their mark in either colour or feel. As you began to roll your hips you watched with delight as his head rolled further back into the pillows, the long column of his neck exposed fully. The sight of him, you were sure, could soothe the blind and, if only you were an artist, you would be sure to capture this very image.
“Oh Fuck” Benedict moaned after a particularly forceful roll of your hips. He began thrusting as ell as he could under you; opening his eyes to see you bracing one hand behind you on his shin, rolling your nipple in the other. The debauched scene before him made him double his efforts, grasping your hips and fucking up into you from below – allowing his thumb to stray down to your bud.
“Benedict” you prayed once more, arms giving out as you lay across him, only managing to hold yourself up with your elbows by his head. The change in angle allowed him to take more control from under you, biting into your shoulder as he drove you to orgasm, determined to feel your velvet hot core tighten around him. His calloused hands slid over you, brushing the soft peaks of your nipples as they cupped your breasts. He pulled one into his mouth as the other hand pressed you down onto his length. “Please”
“Yes “he breathed, feeling you pulse around him. “You’re so close my love. Come on, do it. I want to feel you over me.” His demand tipped you over the edge. The deep rumble of his words vibrating through you as an electric storm coursed through your veins. Benedict followed after you with a groan muffled into you neck. His cock pulsing seed into you until he was completely spent.
Rolling over next to him you collapsed back onto the cool sheets – turning your head to see him already looking at you, both sharing lazy grins as you caught your breath together. Benedict moved his hand just an inch to encapsulate yours, slowly dragging it up to his mouth to press a kiss to the back of your fingers.
“That was amazing.” You sighed, just about managing to speak and certainly not having the energy to move. Benedict’s hand flopped back down onto the bed, still holding yours.
“Yes it was” he whispered, pulling a thin sheet over the both of you as you settled into the stillness of the night.
#my writing#bridgerton#benedict bridgerton#bridgerton imagine#bridgerton x reader#Benedict bridgerton imagine#Benedict bridgerton x reader
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Hi! Hope you’re doing well :)
(I’m not sure if this is the right place for requests so I’m sorry if it isn’t)😩
This one is for Bayverse Raph!
So could you do a oneshot where his fem s/o is a famous singer, and him (and his brothers😁)sneak into one of her performances to realize that she wrote a song all about Raph and their relationship? Maybe even some naught innuendos thrown in there if you catch my drift😉😉😉😉
Oh you got it right love! No worries! Oh this ask is amazeballs! I even have a perfect song for the couple! <3 @thatonegothicgirl
Being recognized and famous, that is something that most people would want in their lives. Having so many people look up to you for what you do, inspired to be just like them, and having so much praise, compliments and fans adore you, that sounds like the perfect life. Although it's unfortunately not cut out for some. For Raphael, an unseen hero of the city who saved the world twice from darkness and destruction along side his brothers, it seems like the dream would forever be a dream. Even with the offer given by the police a few years ago, he thought it would be better off staying hidden, that not a lot of people would understand him. Not the way you did.
You were his soul, his heart, his everything. The reason he got up each morning was because of you. You both have been in a relationship for three years now and things have changed for the better. Although fame didn't work out for him, he was more than happy fame worked out for you. You were singing since you were a child and when he first heard your voice when you invited him down to your recording studio, he was smitten. You did all kinds of music from rock, pop, slow songs, but your favorite would have to be country. Even for being a city girl you just felt at home singing country. Although it could be stressful at times, you always made time for each other and could perform a private concert for him every now and again.
You were working on a new song that was an inspiration from the constant support of your lover. You sung the song softly to yourself as you wrote down the notes and lyrics, smiling how well it was coming together. Once you finished your last lyrics, you strummed your guitar as you played out the song, the melody was perfect and described your relationship with your turtle so well. You couldn't wait for him to hear it. Once you put your guitar in its case you got a call from him, playing a fast and furious ringtone. After all you both were addicted to the movie series.
"Hey baby!" His deep voice heard on speaker
"Hey yourself Vin Diesel", You giggled, making him chuckle. You actually said part of your song without him realizing it, you were so excited you had to bite your lip to from squealing "You coming to my concert tonight?"
"I wouldn't miss it for the world, have any idea where we can sneak in?"
You walked out further on to the stage that soon would be filled with thousands of your fans and spotted an overhang where the jumbotron was hanging for other events at the stadium. "I got an idea, you know the jumbotron where you guys go to Madison Square for basketball games you hide out in, you guys can hide in the one here, its right above the catwalk!"
"Sounds like a plan, be the best seats in the house!"
You smiled to yourself and looked down at your papers in your hands. "Oh forgot to mention I have a new song written up I am trying out tonight!"
Raph perked up a bit hearing that. "Well I have a feeling I am gonna love it just like all your other songs, just as much as I am gonna love seeing you in those favorite tight jeans of mine"
"Count on it big boy, well I think this one you are really gonna love, cause its pretty special, can't wait for you to hear it" You giggled innocently
"Well I can't wait to hear it, I will see ya soon beautiful!" His deep Brooklyn accent murmured before giving you an air smooch
You smiled hanging up and started to prepare for the concert. A few hours later, the stadium was filled up with every seat taken and you peeked out from around the corner and could see the many anticipating fans ready to hear you perform. You felt your phone vibrate in your tight jeans, and saw a text from your boyfriend. "Look up"
You looked up and saw Raphael and his brothers waving from inside of the jumbotron and you jumped with excitement, they were just in time. "Get ready for the new song!"
You placed your phone in your back pocket, and walked out on stage and the noise level sky rocketed, enough to drown out the noise that is made in the city you called home, as you carried your guitar waving to your fans. When you got the microphone, you smiled happily and looked up to see the boys waiting excitedly and you looked towards your fans getting closer to the mic and began to talk.
"Support. Support is everything. It helps someone get through the hardest parts of one's journey and you will always know that they got your back no matter what. Tonight I have something special for you all, this song I wrote was an inspiration for someone who has been there for me for many years and someone that I love very much, I wouldn't be where I was it wasn't for him. Whenever I would be at my lowest during my career, he was always there to make it alright. And he is out here tonight and I wanted to say, I love you Raphael"
The crowd awed at your sweet words and you looked slightly up to see your turtle looking at you with surprise, you wrote a song about you two? This was something he wasn't expecting and you give him a wink and began to play your guitar with the rest of your band playing behind you.
Somedays its just tough getting up
Throwing on these boots and making that climb
Somedays I rather not show and lie low
Before I lose my mind
But when he says baby
Oh no matter what may come my way, he ain't going no way
He runs his fingers through my hair
And saves me
Oh that look in his eye gets me coming alive
And driving me a good kind of crazy
When he says baby! Oh when he says baby!
Some nights I come home stressing mad
Feeling like running my fists through the walls
Is it even worth what I have been fighting for, I am feeling torn
Oh the hell with it all!
But when he says baby, oh matter what may come my way
He ain't going no way, he runs his fingers through my hair
And he saves me
Oh that look in his eye gets me coming alive
And driving me a good kind of crazy
When he says baby! Oh when he says baby!
Everything will be alright, just lay down my side
Let me love you through this ride
Yeah he is a perfect man of faith
When every bit of my own is gone
Something I can have in a best friend
And heaven sent me a love to lean on
When he says baby, oh no matter what may come my way
He ain't going no way, he runs his fingers through my hair
And he saves me
Oh that look in his eye gets me coming alive
And driving me a good kind of crazy
When he says baby! Oh when he says baby!
Yeah that look in his eye gets me coming alive
And driving me a good kind of crazy!
When you finished your song, the crowd went wild with cheering for your new song and you couldn't help but smile with happiness, it was a huge success. You looked up to the jumbotron and saw the boys above cheering for you and you came to lock your eyes on your lover and there was that same look in his eyes that got your heart racing and he licked his lower lip.
You blushed all pink in your cheeks and you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. You bowed to your fans before running across the stage to get ready for your next song and you went behind the curtain and pulled out your phone to see a text from him. "Oh so my look in my eye drives you crazy huh? Well after this concert is over, get ready for a back stage experience and I think you know what is gonna happen, a new inspiration for a new song and my hands all over that ass"
"And you will get the VIP treatment ;)" You giggled to yourself and couldn't wait for the night to be over to finally have him in your arms.
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My Hero Academia Main 3 Boys x Reader
Ch. 19 Endeavors Agency
A/N: Sorry for the long wait, but here's the next part of the series! I just realized I hit over 2000 followers, and I honestly don't deserve it at all. Thank you guys for your compassion and understanding, and I hope to generate more content you like. I might be willing to do an event, and turn my requests back for a short amount of time, but we'll see.
Masterlist
“Are you all ready for tomorrow? I still don’t know how I feel about you staying at Endeavor’s agency for the week.”
You hold in a sigh, choosing to smile instead--even if he couldn’t see you.
“Yeah dad, I’m all ready to go,” you knew of your dad’s--distaste--for the number two, even if he wouldn’t say it, “and I hope I’ll be able to learn a lot from this--although I know you’re probably the better teacher.”
He hums at your praise, you can hear his amusement over the phone.
“I’ll always have room for you at the office, just say the word.”
“I’m sure you’ll have your hands full with Bakugou, dad.”
“I hope to reform that boy, by the looks of him, he has pride sewn into the very fiber of his being.”
“Sounds about right-”
“Plus, he was getting a bit too cozy with my daughter, I have half the mind to question him about it.”
“Dad!” You elongate the word, turning it into a groan at the end as he just chuckles at your misery.
Moving on from the topic, you change the conversation to something lighter--mundane things about school and work before having to hang up the phone. He was unable to come home tonight, meaning you wouldn’t be seeing him until you got back. Unfortunately, you were used to calls instead of in-person goodnights--even if it was a bit lonely sometimes, you pushed on.
After ending the call, you get ready for bed--thoughts of the week ahead making it difficult to fall asleep.
-----
“Everyone has their costumes, right? You can’t wear them out in public unless you’re given permission--and don’t lose them either, understood?”
“Yep, loud and clear!”
“Speak properly Ashido, it’s yes sir. You all need to mind your manners.”
“Yes sir..”
You grin at Mina’s dejected face, only patting her back in comfort once you were dismissed. You wave goodbye to her as she heads to her station, looking back in search of your internship buddy.
After spotting him, you make your way over to his side to see his attention on Iida as he marches off.
“Todoroki?”
He turned to look at you, blinking owlishly as he snapped out of whatever thoughts he had been consumed by.
“Hakamata, hello.”
In some ways, you were looking forward to the internship. Ever since the sports festival, you’ve been able to regard Todoroki in a brand new light. He wasn’t as stuck up as you first took him for, if anything his reactions only made it seem that way.
The boy was just--awkward.
“Shall we get going then?”
He nodded in agreement, and you both leisurely walked towards your train. Sitting side-by-side after baording, suitcases in your laps respectively. The trip there was pretty quiet, and you were glad to say it wasn’t an awkward one. It was different, being so used to rambles from people like Mina and Izuku, or even loud and rowdy conversations with Eijiro or Bakugou. Yet with Todoroki, words weren’t needed to fill the air, it was comforting all on its own.
It didn’t take long to reach Tokyo, arriving at the station quicker than you thought. You both get off, having to walk the rest of the way to the large building. It was bigger than your father’s, and you felt slightly intimidated. Todoroki looked over as your steps faulted, tilting his head in silent communication. You give a tight smile, ushering your nerves down as you make your way inside.
“Hello!” The woman at the front desk beamed, “Endeavor has been waiting for you two, why don’t you go and head up to his office!”
She gave you the quick directions, waving you off as you stepped into the elevator. Todoroki had seemed tense now that he was actually about to see his dad, and you couldn’t blame him. Your last interaction with the man wasn’t the best, if anything you were downright rude.
All within reason, of course.
You arrive on the floor that his office was located on, stepping out of the elevator and having to walk through a room filled to the brim with sidekicks to get to the room. After receiving the okay to enter, you step inside to realize the entire part of the building was his office. The room was huge; marble walls with high ceilings, a crystal chandelier hung above a seating area and all the way towards the far wall, at a large oak desk, was the man who you’d have to put up with for the next week.
You heard a bitter sigh come from your companion, and you give a quick glance of reassurance in his direction. He does the same before you two make your way into the room. If you thought it was intimidating before, the scarce lighting made it even more so--the room relatively dim, save for the rays of the setting sun peeking in through the wall of windows on the right hand side.
“Shoto, I’ve been waiting for you.” A deep voice speaks up as you both stop to stand in front of his desk.
Endeavor is standing as well, smirking down at the both of you before focusing his attention on his son.
“I’m glad you made this decision. You’re finally ready to walk down the path of the mighty.”
“I have no intention of following any path you’ve created. Only I can decide my future.”
The surge of pride you feel as Todoroki stands up for himself falters as a chuckle falls from Endeavor.
“Is that so?” He glances between the both of you, “you both should go get ready then, we’re going out.”
“Where to?” Todoroki answers, looking surprised.
“I’m going to show you both what it means to be a hero.”
-----
The sun has long been set as the three of you patrol the streets of Tokyo, whispers following as you did. It was very different, the energy a complete contrast from what you’ve seen with your dad and his patrols. People called out to him all the time, big grins on their faces’ as they waved enthusiastically. However, the people around here looked intimidated by the large pro hero. In awe yes, but nervous to approach him at the same time. You couldn’t blame them, Endeavors aura was very nerve-wracking.
However, despite the feeling he gave off, things were calm. The peace surrounded everyone and everything around--laughter and smiles was seen all around. It was great; this is how life should be, no one should be fearful.
“Rescue, evacuation, and suppression. There are the three fundamentals required of all heroes. Most agencies are established on a foundation of either “rescue” or “suppression”. However, my agency does not. Remember that. We are grounded in all three of these fundamentals, combined.”
You and Todoroki nod, listening to Endeavor’s speech as he stomps on.
“You have to remain focused--memorize every single detail of your jurisdiction. Don’t let a single irregularity slip by. Be on-site faster than anyone else. Minimize all casualties by keeping all citizens far away as possible.”
He didn’t look back once--his focus never wavering, remaining on the crowds around him.
“These are the basics of the basics, do you understand?”
“Yes sir.” You answer.
“Yeah.” Todoroki spoke, as enthusiastic as ever.
“Then keep up.”
In the blink of an eye, Endeavor was gone. You blinked owlishly, sharing a look with Todoroki before you both rushed off after the number two. It was hard to keep up, the hero using his flames to accelerate his speed.
Todoroki was using his ice to help him, almost in the same way, while you used the move you picked up in the sports festival--allowing your light to harden under your feet, to extend and give you a boost. While you would be faster if you allowed your body to transform into light particles, you weren’t very efficient with it, you’d need some more training before you could try to use it in your day-to-day activities.
You finally heard the wailing of police sirens and the screeching of tires.
You were shocked Endeavor had noticed so far away, but you suppose that’s what it means to be the number two hero.
In a less populated area, down a mostly deserted road, there was a large truck being tailed by three different police vehicles, with no sign of stopping. The getaway truck was being reckless, swerving all over without a care of what--or who--it ran over.
Trying to boost your speed to get there quicker, you were left to stop short as the truck suddenly came to a screeching stop. Endeavor had stopped the truck with his own body, acting as an obstacle halting it from moving any further. You watched in awe as the criminals inside were apprehended accordingly, Endeavor having full control of the situation. While you weren’t able to do anything but watch--since you were only interns and didn’t have hero licenses to be able to use your quirks like that in public--you still took in every detail you could, exactly like Endeavor had told you to.
The way there were no casualties, or any injuries of the citizens for that matter, and even though there was damage to the area around him, it was insignificant to what could have been if they continued on for even just another few minutes. In the short amount of time it took for Endeavor to race over and stop the villains, so much had already been done.
‘A real pros power…’
“Let’s go. We aren’t done.”
-----
You awake bright and early the next day, feeling exhausted from how long you stayed out last night. The three of you ended patrolling for the next few hours without any other exciting things to happen. Endeavor tended to mainly ignore you, but he did ask about what your goal was overall--if anything you were shocked that he was speaking to you civilly.
You explained how you wanted to get the experience you needed to be a great hero, and do it on your own accord. How you wanted to use your quirk to the best of your ability and save lives. You weren’t here to play around, you wanted to do something good--you wanted to be useful. He gave you a simple speech of encouragement--if you could call it that--before dropping the subject as he ranted to Todoroki about all the great things he could learn from him.
It was a night to remember, and you did learn something pretty valuable, so you’d have to give him that.
You walk out into the main area--the one you had to walk through yesterday to get to Endeavor’s office--with your hero uniform already on, ready to see what was on the agenda for the day. The room was large, holding plenty of office desks and important equipment, as if Endeavor had his own intelligence force right in the middle of his agency. Seeing as how many cases the number two hero took on--as well as how many cases his plentiful amount of sidekicks took on--it wasn’t a surprise.
Glancing around, you couldn’t find Todoroki, instead coming face-to-face with one of the many sidekicks held in the agency.
“Hey there kiddo, welcome to the Endeavor Hero Agency!” The woman laughs boisterously.
Her copper-green hair flickered around her head, a cocky smirk on her lips, and a wicked gleam in her amber eyes all made you alert. She wasn’t a threat, but her attitude was the exact opposite of Endeavor’s.
Just a bit weird.
“Ah, yes, thank you.” You bow, only to be thrown off guard as she pats--more like slaps--your back repeatedly.
“Oh come on, don’t be so formal! I’m going to end up putting you to work right away, even if you’re going to have to fight for the right to work alongside us!” She cackles loudly, and you sweat drop as she reminds you of a certain pinkett back at school.
“Luminary.”
You push off Burnin and look towards Todoroki as he walks up beside you, also just as ready as you were to start the day.
“Shoto, good morning.”
It felt a little embarrassing at first, to be calling Todoroki by his first name, but you remembered it’s what he had chosen as his hero name. The entirety of the night before, only code names were used, so now it was second nature.
“Shoto-kun! I’d say the same for you, but you’ll probably be stuck with Endevor while miss Luminary here will have to kick it with us,” Burnin tries to slap you on the back again but you quickly dodge, causing her to grin to widen, “since, yanno, Endeavor really only cares about you!”
Todorki scoffs at the notion, even if it was true. He was eyeing Burnin as she continued to try and pester you. It’s odd, seeing you in a different setting outside of school. He noticed how quiet you’ve been, and while that wasn’t a bad thing, you were always pretty upbeat and talkative in school.
You kept up with Bakugou’s rambunctious actions, Midroiya’s rambles, Ashido’s exuberant personality, and even Kirishima’s upbeat attitude. However, ever since you both stepped onto the train to come to the agency, you’ve kept to yourself for the most part. You soaked up all the information you could, even if you were being a little wary of Endeavor.
Todoroki had indeed noticed, and he would be too in your position, shoot, he already was wary of his old man and all the ideas he had running around in his head. However, right now in this moment Todoroki saw the flicker of fire sparking again as you tried to keep the older sidekick from putting you into a headlock. It was good to see you as yourself, you always did know how to light up a room.
“Shoto.” The smile playing on the boy's lips fell as he heard his father.
You quickly detach yourself from Burnin’s hold, straightening up as Endevors approached. His hard gaze barely looked in your direction, focused on his son as always.
“Shoto,” he repeats, “We’ll be having an important mission today.”
Endoavor finally looks at you, the frown on his face stays in place--but it doesn’t get any deeper either.
“As for you Luminary, you shall be shadowing Burnin for the time being.”
“Yes sir!” Burning salutes the pro before shrugging an arm around your shoulder.
Todoroki glances at you from the corner of his eyes, and he sees how your shoulders fall ever-so-slightly. It was practically unnoticable, but he saw it. You were disappointed, the only reason Todoroki convinced you to come was because he knew that working with the man who had the speed and instincts of a number two pro hero was a great opportunity--even if his old man was a scumbag. He had to acknowledge his talents.
“I want Hakamata to come.”
The silence between the two was stifling, the heated glares acting as a silent conversation. You eyed Todoroki bewildered, confused as to why he was questioning Endeavor's decision. Sure, you were annoyed and somewhat disappointed, but you expected this. You were prepared to be treated as second best.
After all, people like them were always good at making people like you feel inferior.
“What?”
“I want Hakamata to be able to attend this mission with us.”
Endeavors eyes shut briefly, before doing the unexpected.
“If that’s what you want. Be ready, the both of you, we’re leaving soon,” he turns to the rest of the members in the room, “We’re taking a work trip to Hosu.”
“Yes sir!”
As Endeavor turns to leave, you smile brightly at Todoroki.
“Thanks Shoto.”
“Uh, yeah, sure.” His head faces the floor, he couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eyes.
“Let’s hurry then, we have a city to get to!”
“Right.”
-----
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The Allegory of the Tin Man, the Dictator, and the Knight: a Dissection of Ironqrow and a Character Arc of Failure
“There lived in the Land of Oz two queerly made men who were best of friends. They were so much happier when together that they were seldom apart.”
— L. Frank Baum
A brief Ironqrow meta and character analysis of James Ironwood, the ultimate screw up, in three parts.
I. Qrow and Ironwood’s Homoeroticism in Canon Source Material and its Translation
II. Ironwood’s Repressed Characterization and the Inherent Chivalry of the Dictatorship
III. Ironwood, Alone
Qrow and Ironwood’s Homoeroticism in Canon Source Material and its Translation
Within the Oz series, the Tin Man and the Scarecrow are layered within homoerotic subtext, even if it is included unintentionally. Tison Pugh’s analysis Queer Utopianism and Antisocial Eroticism in L. Frank Baum's Oz Series posits that the land of Oz as portrayed within the series is a largely asexual environment of suspended adolescence that involves the deviation of binary gender norms, and of performative heterosexuality. Pugh refers to it later as a “queer utopia”. Men are portrayed as a lesser military force to women, and heterosexuality is a flimsy presence at best; all signs of procreation within Oz are stifled. While this could be chalked down to Baum not wanting to get into the subject of sex and exploration in a children’s series, it does contribute to a particular tone with real-life critiques of capitalism and a particular deconstruction of gender norms. Ozma, who will become the ruler of Oz after the Wizard and the Scarecrow respectively, for example, is originally a boy named Tip (the name itself holds phallic implications) who is “transformed” into a girl. The strongest military force is one of all-women led by a rebellious female general. Pugh observes, “At the same time that Baum satirizes...women as leaders…he consistently depicts women as more successful soldiers than men, and female troops appear better capable of serving militarily than male troops…[the] male army comprises of twenty-six officers and one private, and they are all cowards…” and cites the Frogman’s declaration that “Girls are the fiercest soldiers of all...they are more brave than men, and they have better nerves”.
RWBY itself isn’t opposed to this kind of subversion, either in its characters or its relationships. There’s an obvious effort to include LGBTQ+ representation (albeit primarily in the background), strong female characters are prevalent and make up most of the main and supporting cast, a character’s gender is not strictly reliant on its source material, and BlackSun, while cute and a valid ship in its own right, is treated as a heterosexual red herring to Bumbleby. Additionally, there have been a lot of hints by the voice actors, writers, and creators on social media that Qrow himself is queer, the infamous Ironqrow embrace included.
Admittedly, if I wanted to write an essay about the likelihood of Qrow being LGBTQ+ or having some kind of queer identity, I would probably focus more on his relationship with Clover, which had a lot more overt and probably canonically intentional Gay Vibes, and despite having known Qrow nowhere near as long as Ironwood has, it has just as much, if not more, to extrapolate. Unfortunately, that’s not the main point of this essay, although it remains relevant. While I personally don’t doubt that Qrow has had sex with women or experiences valid sexual attraction to them, I get the feeling that it is, to a degree, a performative act and a masculine assertation of enjoyment intended as a coping mechanism. It plays into the trope of the handsome, tortured alcoholic (best exemplified, perhaps, in the MCU’s Tony Stark, Dean Winchester in Supernatural, and critiqued in the superhero episode of Rick and Morty) who sleeps around just to recall the feeling of intimacy, or because he associates sexual ‘degradation’ as a reflection of his worth. Real self-deprecating, slightly misogynistic stuff. Qrow’s recall of short skirts, as well as his brief exchange with the waitress in an earlier volume, reminds me of one specific interaction between the Scarecrow and his own love interest. Within the series, the Qrow’s source-material counterpart, the Scarecrow, has one canonical love interest, the Patchwork Girl:
“Forgive me for staring so rudely,” said the Scarecrow, “but you are the most beautiful sight my eyes have ever beheld.”
“That is a high compliment from one who is himself so beautiful,” murmured Scraps, casting down her suspender-button eyes by lowering her head.
Pugh points out that the two of them never develop this relationship further than flirtation, and heterosexuality is reduced to a “spectral presence” lacking the “erotic energy [driving] these queer narratives in their presence”. Specifically, Qrow never reveals a serious or long running heterosexual love interest - he is not the father! [of Ruby] (despite much speculation that he and Summer Rose were involved) and he and Winter never really moved past the stage of ‘hostility with just a hint of sexual tension’ - and there is no debunking of potential queerness. His interactions with Clover (deserving of an entire essay on its own) seem to support this interpretation, and is more or less a confirmation of some kind of queer inclination or identity. Again, the “queer utopia” of Oz comes at the cost of the expulsion of the sexual or the mere mention of reproduction - still, through this device, same-sex relationships gain a new kind of significance with the diminishing nature of heterosexuality. Speaking of queer narratives, the Scarecrow and the Tin Man have the most tender and prolonged relationship of perhaps all the characters in the series, exchanging a lifelong commitment:
“I shall return with my friend the Tin Woodman,” said the stuffed one seriously. “We have decided never to be parted in the future.”
Within the source material, the Tin Man and the Scarecrow voluntarily live together, and are life partners in nearly every sense of the word. The second book in the Oz series is The Tin Woodman of Oz. In summary, the Tin Woodman recalls that he had a fiancée before the events of the first book, forgot all about her, and now must search her out so that they can get married. Who does he ask to accompany him in this pursuit? None other than his no-homo life partner, the Scarecrow. Although this sounds like a stereotypical heteronormative storyline, “this utopian wonderland...rejects heterosexual procreation...First, the Tin Woodman does not desire...Nimmie Amee...” and even acknowledges that due to the ‘nature’ of the heart that the Wizard had given him, he is literally incapable of romantically or passionately loving or desiring Nimmie, and by extent, women in general - to me, that works perfectly as an allegory for a gay man who is literally incapable of experiencing legitimate heterosexual urges, but ‘soldiers on’ out of obligation and societally enforced chivalry. “The Tin Woodman excuses himself from the heteronormative imperative...Only his sense of masculine honor, rather than a heteronomratively masculine sex drive, impels the Tin Woodman on his quest to marry his long-lost fiancée.” Again, Ironwood’s character follows the lines of propriety within the sphere of the wealthy elite, and his persona as a high-ranking military man and politician, as well as the conservative values instilled within Atlas, prioritize duty and obligation. This kind of culture is stifling and in a lot of ways aloof, as the upper class deludes itself into believing that it is objectively better and more advanced than its neighboring territories. *ahem the myth of American exceptionalism ahem*
“There lived in the Land of Oz two queerly made men who were best of friends. They were so much happier when together that they were seldom apart.”
I think it’s funny that the characters that Ironwood and Qrow are based off of are canonically the closest of friends, who coexist almost as a unit. In contrast, the first introduction we get of Ironwood and Qrow is a hostile exchange where they’re at each other’s throats, never on the same page, and never in sync, not when it matters. Indeed, Qrow snaps at Ironwood for his lack of communication, which is a recurring issue between the two of them on notable occasions. If the source material is anything to go by, there should be a significant relationship between the two of them, or at least some kind of connection, even if it goes unspoken or unacknowledged. To be fair, in RWBY’s canon, I think there is.
I’ve seen this joke that while Qrow hates the Atlas military, the only people he really seems to flirt with is Atlas military personnel. “Ice Queen” is something I interpreted to be partially hostile, partially mocking, and partially flirtatious, in equal spades - the voice actors and creators have indicated that it was flirtatious, and there was a whole Chibi episode dedicated to the concept of Qrow and Winter’s extrapolated sexual tension, albeit in jest. I might argue that his use of abbreviates aren’t reserved for people he dislikes, but for people who bring out his playful side. “Brat”, “Pipsqueak”, “Firecracker”, and “Kiddos” are all drawn from a place of affection, however short or mocking it may seem, because that’s what crows do: they mock others.
Qrow has little nicknames for people; while it’s not exclusively a sign of affection, I do get the feeling that ‘Jimmy’ is an informality that irks Ironwood, but can also be interpreted as Qrow giving James what he needs, rather than what he wants.
Glynda is by no means a pushover, but in assuring him that while he does questionable things, he’s still a good person, she’s softening the blow and probably further enabling deeply rooted and pre-existing traits, many of which contribute to his problematic control complex. It is established early on that Qrow resents the military (as he should), and it is implied that he’s spent a fair amount of encounters harassing and provoking military personnel (Winter being the most evident example of this), and has insulted the military numerous times to Ironwood’s face. He lectures Ironwood about the way he conducts his operations, his inability to communicate, and basically what a complete, inconsiderate asshole he really is.
What Ironwood needs is someone who operates outside of the pretense that he works, breathes, and lives under, and just tells it like it is. Jimmy isn’t all that - he’s a person, just like the rest of us, and he can flaunt all the titles that he wants, but James stripped down is still just Jimmy.
Qrow also is the kind of person who pries, who is insistent, and not particularly sensitive. For someone like Ironwood who has a lot of (physical and emotional) barriers, logically, in order for him to receive genuine understanding, Qrow fits the profile of someone who is invasive but not exploitive, who sees past the cracks in his armor and takes him for what he is. What is just important is that whoever Ironwood is with is someone who makes him want to try not only to be better, but to be real; thematically, General Ironwood seems to have a great respect for but a deep struggle with authenticity. He clearly resents the ignorance and frivolity of Atlas’s wealthy elite, as evidenced by his support for Weiss at the dinner party in announcing that “she’s one of the only people making any sense around here”, while struggling to project the facade that he’s carefully created.
See, we don’t have evidence that there is something going on between Ironqood and Qrow so much as we have enough evidence to inconclusively say that there’s not not something going on. I think there’s enough evidence to support the idea that something could be going on, or was going on.
When Qrow saves Ironwood at the Battle of Beacon, who is under the false impression that Qrow believes him to be the culprit of the attacks, his eyes follow Qrow and we get a closer shot of his awed expression; we the viewer can only imagine what he sees as Qrow arcs through the air and slices down a Grimm from behind his back. The focus on Ironwood’s expression portrays something like shock (so Qrow wasn’t trying to attack me after all, but then what the hell is he doing?), maybe wonder (I can’t take my eyes off of him, I can’t look away), maybe respect (I know he’s a good Hunter, but I’ve rarely seen him in action), but it is unfiltered nonetheless. In a show where fight scenes are vital to the progression of the story itself, the dynamics of these fights are at their best when they are character driven, whether it is revealing or reinforcing something about the characters and their relationships, or it is deciding their fates. There’s something to be said about characters being given moments together in battles, and what that says about the significance of their relationship. The best example of this might be the battle between Blake and Yang vs Adam; it served to give Adam what he deserved, help Blake and Yang reach closure in certain aspects of their own trauma, and solidify the bond between the girls. Similarly, Qrow and Ironwood’s moment is meant to reveal a theme that will later be revisited in volume 7; trust. Ironwood is startled but not shocked when he believes that Qrow distrusts him to the degree of attacking him, and is ready to attack or defend as needed.
Qrow tells him what he needs to hear, more or less: YOU’RE A DUMBASS. Ironwood is, indeed, a dumbass. While he does extend the olive branch of trust and good will to CRWBY and co. this trust is highly conditional and proves to be, while from a place of desperation and sincerity, at least partially performative.
When Ironwood snaps, he snaps hard.
Amber’s voice actress tweeted early on, joking that Qrow has two Atlas boyfriends, and Arryn has made comments, too. It’s one of the older ships, and the crew is certainly aware of it (“...extended chest bump...”).
Kerry has stated that he finds the Ironqrow relationship interesting, and wishes it had been explored more (additionally, allegedly lobbying that Ironwood’s arm in the Ironqrow hug scene be slightly lower). I’m not saying that they’re going to both make it out alive, or canon, or even that romantic subtext was intentionally woven into the script. All I’m saying is that I think their relationship is interesting too, especially when the subtext of their source material relationship is taken into context, and the way their characters are positioned is suggestive of some sort of compatibility, even if it is a hit or miss kind of opportunity, and I have the sinking suspicion that it was missed on both accounts.
The Tin Woodman of Oz concludes,
“All this having been happily arranged, the Tin Woodman returned to his tin castle, and his chosen comrade, the Scarecrow, accompanied him on the way. The two friends were sure to pass many pleasant hours together in talking over their recent adventures, for as they neither ate nor slept they found their greatest amusement in conversation.”
Ironwood’s Repressed Characterization and the Inherent Chivalry of the Dictatorship
“I don’t give a damn about Jacque Schnee...what about the other two? Do not return to this office until you have Qrow Branwen in custody.”
“And that’s not all we’ve lost...I had Qrow in my hands, and I didn’t do what needed to be done.”
Observe: Ironwood, at this point, does not care about politics. I doubt he’s ever wanted to, or ever liked it (if his tired outburst at the dinner party is any indication) but his Knightly qualities (we’ll get to that) have, up till this point, prompted him to adhere to them for both power and etiquette. James surrounds himself in a world that he understands and despises; more than anything, he’d like to be a general, a commander, and the Knight in Shining Armor archetype, because warfare is something he understands. It is a testament to his (superhuman) willpower that he forces himself to become fluent in the language of politics, and to live and breathe in it. To clarify, Ironwood sees himself as a man who does what needs to be done; if he wants to change and control Atlas, he will have to involve himself in its politics.
Likely, his resilience has contributed to the way he views himself and what he deserves, as someone long-suffering and almost martyr-like, a silent hero doing what needs to be done. But at the moment, he’s lost his goddamn mind coming undone. He’s murdered and jailed his political dissent (and might have considered executing prisoners), but at this point, that’s all that Jacque and Robyn are to him. First he dismisses Jacque, narrows it down to the two escaped prisoners, and finally reveals what’s really on the forefront of his mind: Qrow, free and out of his hands.
[ When recalling this dialogue, please do so while imagining a bad recorder cover of the Titanic music playing over the background. Here is a sample. ]
In the most recent episode, Ironwood seems to have gone off the rails even further. The fact that Winter, his most faithful lieutenant, is losing her unshakable faith in him, says a lot about how hard he’s fallen off the deep end. In Winter’s mind, I think that she sees him almost as a surrogate father figure, or at least a patriarch who can be positively compared to Jacques in every way. The previous volumes go to lengths to compare the two as adversaries and showing James in a favorable light; Winter is in her own personal horror right now, because she is beginning to understand that Ironwood is a man who may not be her father but is just as susceptible to corruption, and may have been that kind of person all along. Skipping over the...ah, genocidal tendencies, and the fact that he’s proposing to kidnap Penny’s friends to force her to obey him and likely is starting to realize that Winter is the perfect bait (let’s just say that “Ironwood is not good with kids” is the understatement of the year) Ironwood wants Qrow back (in captivity), I think that it’s significant that while Ironwood registers that Robyn is gone as well, his first priority is Qrow, probably for two reasons. On one hand, he still refers to Qrow by his first name, instead of the formal Branwen. Of course, that doesn’t have to mean anything at all. They’re colleagues within the same age range, both members of the same secret brotherhood and similiar skill sets.
On the other hand, it reminds me of the moment when Qrow and the kids first fly into Atlas, and they see the heightened security, and Qrow mutters, “James...what have you been doing,” under his breath, sounding concerned, apprehensive. He’s not addressing the kids, he’s talking to himself; he regards James much more seriously both as a potential threat and a friend than he’d rather the other know, and I think that James’ focus on Qrow at this point is similiar, only not only is this a sign of them knowing each other well, but of Ironwood’s slipping control. He offered Qrow his trust and camaraderie, his last attempt to keep a handle on his humanity (or, his heart). Qrow, in return, withheld vital information, got close with another operative instead, then allegedly killed him and and escaped ‘rightful’ imprisonment.
The Tin Man is offering Qrow his heart, at least proof of it, and the Scarecrow [and co.] steps back to observe the situation, and assesses that no, what you are going to do is wrong, and I cannot agree with it.
Ironwood is not an objective person, as much as he wants to be. He’s angry, desperate, scared, and humiliated. Worst of all, he’s rebuffed, and he’s taking Qrow’s escape personally. First, he understands that Qrow is a threat. He’s Ozpin’s best agent, he has years of field experience, and he knows too much, probably more than James knows. Second, they have history.
My personal interpretation of Ironwood is something this:
He’s a sad, sad, lonely bitch. What Ironwood longs for, just like his source material counterpart, is a heart. He will go to any lengths to achieve this, because he believes that he has self awareness and therefore is able to check and balance himself. He treats his subordinates well, is diplomatic, skilled in a variety of trades, fighting the good fight, and longs for the affirmation that yes, he is a good person, and yes, he’s had a heart all along. He just strays from the path, and loses his way.
This is symbolically represented by his partially mechanic exoskeleton; we have no idea how far the cyborg extremities extend, or how deep, but we do get the visual notion of humanity in conflict, or a man’s soul deconstructed and split between the cold efficiency of machinery and the very real warmth of a human body. Ironwood wants to appear human, and benevolent, and genuine, and in return, loved; he is human, and he could be all of these things. If my reliance on the source material holds any merit (although I highly doubt it), then there is also a potential struggle with sexuality, (Glynda herself even explicitly and exasperatedly references a testosterone battle between Ironwood and Qrow, suggesting a regular overassertation of masculinity) and a further incentive to achieve love and subsequent acceptance.
To clarify, I do believe that there were less-than-subtle allusions to Ironwood and Glynda having a vaguely flirtatious history, taking their shared scenes and background dancing into account, but this, again, does not “debunk” the presence of queerness within a narrative; it could be an assumption of heterosexuality, or performative itself, or just not an exclusive interest. Besides, Ironwitch isn’t what this essay is about. I’m not trying to persuade or dissuade someone of the notion that Jimmy is gay, or straight, or something else, only that the potential ambiguity exists. What I do think is most important is that James doesn’t openly ward people away, not when those people aren’t under his command and are technically outside of his jurisdiction. He’s friendly with Glynda, tries to extend trust to Qrow, is kind to people in the aftermath of battle, and overall clings to diplomacy as his first weapon. He wants to be accepted, to be liked, and to be welcomed. This is not an outrageous want, nor is it uncommon. Unfortunately, Ironwood’s understanding of love and acceptance is entangled within the concept of control, and he associates unquestioned compliance with this Want.
Ironwood’s introduction into the series shows him being openly cordial, and very considerate, especially his interactions with Glynda and Ozpin. He’s a gentleman, he’s apologetic, and, as Glynda assures him, he’s a “good man”. She doesn’t really elaborate on what a “good man” is, exactly, but we might presume that a “good man” is a person with good intentions, who strives to do what’s right, regardless of his options.
Here’s the thing - one similarity between Ironwood and the Tin Man is that they both have the capacity to love, but they fool themselves into thinking that they don’t; before the Wizard gives him a ‘heart’, the Tin Man suggests that he is only kind and considerate to everyone in Oz because he believes he needs to overcompensate for what he lacks, and is therefore doubly aware of how he treats others. However, the Wizard knows no real magic, only tricks and illusions, and what he gives the Tin Man is essentially a placebo that enables the Tin Man to act towards and feel about others the exact same as he always had, only with the validation that what he feels is authentic. Similarly, Ironwood has always had the option to be empathetic and not fucking crazy open to collaboration, which he’s very aware of, until his own paranoia cuts into his rationality and compels him to cut himself off from all allies and alternative perspectives. He then uses his difficult position and responsibilities to justify unjustifiable actions, to rationalize irrational urges, and to gaslight and brainwash his subordinates into compliance.
The Tin Woodman knew very well he had no heart, and therefore he took great care never to be cruel or unkind to anything.
“You people with hearts,” he said, “have something to guide you, and need never do wrong; but I have no heart, and so I must be very careful. When Oz gives me a heart of course I needn’t mind so much.”
Qrow sees through this, however, and not only seems incapable of following orders himself, but disrupts the decorum that Ironwood is used to. In return, I think we see a little more of James that he’d like to reveal.
“If you were one of my men, I’d have you shot!”
“If I was one of your men, I’d shoot myself!”
In case this entire ass essay doesn’t make it obvious, I do really ship Ironqrow. I’m open to other pairings, definitely, but this one in particular is just more interesting to me. It feels more revealing, more subtle. I have more questions.
In hindsight, maybe the dialogue example above ^ didn’t age well, considering where they’re at, but I do like how their professional animosity is flavored with a kind of camaraderie, and understanding. This exchange isn’t exactly playful, but they’re taking each other seriously - and, like repressed schoolboys, taking the piss at each other in a childish way, and isn’t that part of the fun of banter, when they’re so focused on each other that they forget to act their age? In a lot of ways, this is a really fun dynamic to watch. They’re opposite-kind-of-people, which I like, at least on a superficial level, and I can easily imagine them tempering each other in ways that would make them ultimately happier people.
They even look well-coordinated, with similar color schemes that lean on the opposite sides of the shared spectrum (white, grays, reds and black); I think the decorative design on Qrow’s new sleeves are supposed to be more ornate simply to communicate that Qrow is committed, and willing to be sentimental, but some viewers have suggested that it resembles the pattern on James’ weapon, Due Process (the revolver is based off of the Tin Man’s pistol, although, curiously, in The Wizard of Oz, the Scarecrow was the only character to carry a pistol, and the commentaries suggest that the 2007 Tin Man miniseries was the “basis of the allusion”. Does that mean anything? I don’t know. Probably not.). Still, it raises the questions: who was in charge of designing the team’s new clothes and gear? How much input did Atlas get, and was this intentional? Personally, I think that the vine-like pattern on Qrow’s sleeves also bear a resemblance to Ozpin’s staff, a subtle reaffirmation and foreshadowing of his allegiance in contrast to Ironwood, but I digress.
They can also deliver that UST kind of banter that takes up their attention, and get up really close to each other, in each other’s faces, and just be pissed, which I think is very sexy of them, mhm. Enemies to Colleagues to Reluctant Friends to Lovers is a trope that I very much appreciate. Gaining some sort of common ground at the Battle of Beacon only to reunite, tired and battered, after the shit has already hit the fan? Slow burn kinda vibes.
That hug between them was something genuinely vulnerable and a sign of Ironwood letting his guard down because he is tired as fuck. It also was uh...kinda fruity.
Ironwood approaches closer, and Qrow scratches the back of his head, a characteristically nervous gesture that he’s made before; it’s a nervous twitch, manufactured nonchalance. He has no idea what Ironwood wants, but he does know that Ironwood wants something. James is the one to initiate the hug, and Qrow startles and even freezes up before relaxing into it. He seems suprised, but gives the bisexual eye roll of grudging fondness. This is out of character for James - Jimmy - but Qrow doesn’t think that Ironwood is a bad person. He leans into the hug, and the camera cuts out before they separate, suggesting that they probably end up standing there for a long ass time. You can also see from the side shots that it’s a close hug; their torsos are pressed up against each other, front to front, and there’s not a lot of wiggle room. James must be really goddamn depressed. It’s a long, manly, intensley heterosexual hug. Like I said, kinda fruity.
Other people have analyzed the hug shot for shot, so I won’t get too into it, but I think that it was intentionally left as a double red herring; some people thought that maybe he bugged Qrow, and after finding out that he didn’t, we were forced to conclude that this is a genuine olive branch. To find out that Ironwood is sincere but was still susceptible to corruption is that second subversion that I didn’t really expect. I hadn’t prepared myself for it, at least, and neither did Qrow. I wouldn’t go as far to say that Ironwood’s descent into fucking craziness paranoia is triggered by Qrow not ‘reciprocating’ or something, but I do think it’s interesting how the volume opens up with a signifigant interaction between Ironwood and Qrow, only for Qrow to spend the rest of the volume homosexually bonding with Clover, while Ironwood basically has no one as emotional support (again, his subordinates do not have the power or the place to be viewed as equals and the veil of formality is one of isolation). Qrow initiates nothing further, and nothing further happens.
Ironwood’s downfall, in a thematic sense, is that what he Needs is a heart, and when he gets that chance to demonstrate tolerance and empathy, James ultimately rejects his Need (a heart) and his arc reverts into one of villainy. To be specific, Ironwood is essentially a fascist dick, and that is not very sexy. (Speaking of dicks, the thought of Ironwood’s dick makes me laugh. I bet in the RWBY universe, people have made memes about that. I do not accept criticism because I am correct. Anyway,).
Dictators are charming, charismatic, and one of the pillars of their method is absorbing potential political opponents into their own administration to reduce the threat of rebellion, to appear openly tolerant to their supporters, and to further consolidate power. A good example of this would be Mean Girls, which runs on a comedic commentary of dictatorships as a political structure of power. I hate to compare James Ironwood to Regina George, but Regina’s posse includes Karen and Gretchen, two of the only girls who might take away from the authority she holds over the rest of their school, both in their wealth and attractiveness, and Cady’s interesting backstory and conventional attractiveness is the main reason Regina draws her into her own sphere - because she detects a potential threat. Much in the same way, while Ironwood likely has good intentions, his efforts to win over team RWBY and co. - including Qrow himself - is a logical way to consolidate resources. His willingness, at first, to cooperate with political opponents (ie Robyn) is because he’s not inherently evil, and he has nothing to lose. It’s when he is openly opposed and diplomatic gestures no longer hold the necessary weight that he snaps.
In one really interesting meta about Ironqrow’s archetypes (that I reread occasionally just because I really love it), @onewomancitadel posits that Ironwood is framed within the archetype of the Knight in Shining Armor, which should inform us of the moral consistency of his character. The meta was written around the beginning of volume 7, I think, and obviously we have a lot more character development and information to go off of now, but I think she makes a really interesting point about the nature of parallels and how that might help drive Ironwood as a character. I love her analysis of the visual of Ironwood stepping out of an airship wreckage, onto the street, the smoke billowing around him to reveal his cyborg prosthetics, and of the intentional framing. Once his uniform is stripped back, we see a man who is literally half-armor, which could be indicative of a lot of things. He’s emotionally guarded, he’s used as a human weapon, and he wants to be a line of defense. In her words, “The symbolism is really obviously put into perspective of his actions in trying to do the right thing: in the flesh (his true physical self) he is literally a knight in shining armour. From the ground up. Even if it's unseen or distorted by his uniform, his nature is still true.”
While Ironwood clearly has gone down a darker path in the most recent volume, I think this analysis holds true in a crucial way. “Ironwood is working with different information, and he’s doing exactly what he knows: stick to his knightly virtues, even disgraced.” Disgraced, indeed. Ironwood is holding onto his knightly values, and doing what he believes is right. If not right, he believes that it is necessary. The problem is that these values are manifested within Atlas’s sociopolitical-military culture in an inherently toxic way - his response is, at this point, neither rational nor empathetic, but it can be explained partially due to his cultural (flawed) understanding of justice, and because of the extenuating circumstances. The harsher the conditions become, the more difficult it is for anyone to project a facade that is not sincere at its core. If James is to uphold his Knightly virtues, he needs to be a protector, a leader, and a servant all at once while operating under limited intel with dwindling trust. All he has left are the few key players still in his grasp, and the control of the people he is responsible for.
To digress: generally, knights take an oath. It could be to a King, or Lord, or some noble, but Knights are supposed to operate on a code of honor, and chivalry, and to uphold these values throughout the land as an extension of whoever they have pledged themselves to. The story of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is a really good example of the way that, back in the day, chivalry and honor was supposed to place knights on a moral high ground compared to the common people.
In the middle of a celebration in Camelot, an obligatory tradition that has since lost real value but is rehearsed because Camelot fears that failure to uphold traditions that once had meaning is disrespectful, a Green Knight interrupts the celebrations and offers a strange challenge that boils down to a fight to the death. Gawain volunteers because accepting this challenge is what is expected of him, and Arthur would be humiliated if his knights, supposedly the best in the world, would not rise to the challenge. Gawain - and to a certain extent, the rest of Arthur’s knights - are fickle, in a sense, because their adherence to this code is performative, and it allows them to delude themselves into moral superiority and lie both to the commoners and amongst themselves; their identity as knights is based on a falsehood. Gawain is offered the first blow, and after beheading the Green newcomer, is horrified to see him become reanimated and immune to mortal blows. He invites Gawain to receive his own - likely fatal - blow, and gives him a time in which to meet, before promptly leaving.
Throughout the story, Gawain is tested in a variety of ways - in his final test, he fails, and allows his greed for self preservation and the fear of death to lead him to lie to his hosts and proceed to his meeting with the Green Knight under dishonest pretenses. While he is spared at the last second and becomes a better person (after it is revealed that Morgan le Fay orchestrated the ordeal to spook Queen Guinevere) - and by extent, a truer Knight, by the end of the story, the superficial and hypocritical nature of Arthur’s court is still in question, and still unanswered.
See, the entirety of Gawain’s trials was a test, not necessarily for him, but for Arthur and his court as a whole. Morgan wanted to prove the fickle nature of Arthur’s knights. The Knights of the Round Table were considered the best in the land, and to discredit one was to discredit all. What use is tradition if the meaning is empty, what use is chivalry if it is performed for reward instead of merit, and what use is loyalty if it is blind and unearned? Returning to Oz, the Tin Woodman, or Tin Man, grew to be made of tin because his axe became enchanted by the Wicked Witch of the East to sever his own body parts instead of the lumber he tried to cut down. A nearby tinsmith replaced each amputated limb with one of metal, until his entire body became tin and his meat body had been entirely discarded. Something to note is that Nick Chopper’s, (General Ironwood’s) wounds are technically self-inflicted. Each time he swung his axe, he made the decision to continue, knowing of the end result each time. In losing his bodily functions, the Tin Man believed that he had lost his humanity and ability to love.
The tragedy of his origin story draws a pointed correlation to Ironwood’s current dilemma; his unwillingness to stop, his self-imposed isolation, playing into the hands of the witch, and finally, the decision to let go of his ability to love remain consistent throughout both stories.
Watts even refers to Ironwood as a “Tin Solider”; a reference to the Tin (Woods)Man, no doubt, but could also evoke a soldier clanking around in metal armor. Ironwood is a Knight in Shining Armor, through and through. He wants to save the world, but at the terrible cost of civilian autonomy and possibly life. The problem is that he’s pledged himself to a discriminatory and hypocritical system, and his code is something that can easily be misconstrued by fear ( @disregardcanon ), much as Gawain’s own values. The Tin Man is, after all, still a man, and if we’ve learned anything from real fairytales, it is that men are fallible, whether or not they are made of metal.
Ironwood, Alone
he’s a lonely bitch
I know I f- up, I'm just a loser
Shouldn't be with ya, guess I'm a quitter
While you're out there drinkin', I'm just here thinkin'
'Bout where I should've been
I've been lonely, mm, ah, yeah
— Benee, Supalonely (2019)
You do get the sense that Ironwood is riddled with self-loathing conflicting with pride, with self-doubt clashing with competence, and that he is the kind of person who longs for things without verbalizing. Maybe his dad never paid enough attention to him as a kid. Maybe he suffered some terrible physical and emotional trauma, which might as well be assumed, given the extensive nature of his cybernetic limbs. Maybe (probably) he’d be more well-adjusted and would’ve made better decisions if the people around him trusted him and were a little more open. To be fair, though, he is the one at the wheel, and he is making the calls; no one else is to blame for his mistakes, and to pretend otherwise is to deny him accountability. I think we do enough of that in everyday life, in excusing powerful men of their responsibilities. To his credit, I do think he wants to help people. I think James also wants to project the personality of a leader who is stoic, controlled, and measured. He is charming when he wants to be, sympathetic when it suits him, and influential in just the right areas. He is not a sociopath, but he is a politician, and in a lot of ways, those are the same thing. We see in his brief flashes of temper, often prompted by Qrow, or most notably by Oscar, that this is not a calm, stable person. This is someone is on the verge of exploding, who is so fucking angry that he is not in control that it’s killing him, and so he is going to lash out and kill the things that are not within his grip. If the people beneath him will not reciprocate the heart that he offers, then he has no real use of it. James Ironwood does not begin this story as a bad person. This is a tragedy, in however many parts it takes.
I read, in one very smart and very put-together analysis that I cannot find and properly credit at the moment, that part of Ironwood’s (many) failures can be seen in Winter, and how, like Ozpin, he has appointed a woman as his talented, no-nonsense, second chain in command at his right hand. In this way, Winter is an intentional parallel to Glynda, who is, without question, a bad bitch. In theory, surrounding yourself with strong individuals is a demonstration of self restraint, in implementing your own checks and balances. James wants to project that he is powerful, yes, but he is reasonable.
I take this to mean that, to some degree, even if it’s unintentional or subconscious, Winter serves to boost Ironwood’s ego.
The issue with this is that within the inherently hierarchical structure of the military, Winter cannot question, undermine, or challenge Ironwood in a way that is particularly meaningful and their relationship is one of commander and subordinate before colleagues or equals (link to a fantastic post about Winter’s role as the Good, Conscientious Soldier by @fishyfod). Whereas Glynda is free to argue with, converse, and be as combative as she needs to be with Ozpin (although their power dynamic is arguably one of commander and subordinate albeit informally), Winter cannot temper Ironwood effectively, and through the illusion of equality, Ironwood is further isolated.
His head and arms and legs were jointed upon his body, but he stood perfectly motionless, as if he could not stir at all.
Dorothy looked at him in amazement, and so did the Scarecrow, while Toto barked sharply and made a snap at the tin legs, which hurt his teeth.
“Did you groan?” asked Dorothy.
“Yes,” answered the tin man, “I did. I’ve been groaning for more than a year, and no one has ever heard me before or come to help me.”
The Tin Man needs oil to lubricate his joints; without it, he cannot move, and he is rendered helpless and inanimate. When Dorothy and the group find him, he is entirely isolated with no one in sight, and he has been there for such a long time that he has begun to rust. Similarly, Ironwood needs valued voices of dissent to keep him in check. His colleagues were able to serve that purpose in the beginning, and out of them, Qrow is the best example of someone who doesn't take his shit, openly questions him, and looks down on the performative decorum of the military culture that Ironwood is surrounded by. What Ironwood needs is to be flexible and adaptable; his Semblance, Mettle (heh, metal, very nice pun, RoosterTeeth), is a double edged sword in that it gives him supernatural focus and willpower - enough, perhaps, to flay/chop off your own limbs - but it blindsides him, and is only further prolonging his pain.
There is a lot of sympathy to Ironwood’s character, as much as I’ve ragged on him for being an authoritarian, kind of a dick, and bad with kids. There are moments, such as the previously mentioned dinner party, where he shows his colors a bit, and when he assures the students at the Vytal Festival that there’s no shame in leaving before the battle begins, and in giving Yang a prosthetic arm before her father even has to ask. As far as Generals go, it seems that he’s seen soldiers come and go and understands, at least in his best moments, that not everyone is the same, and not everyone has power of unflinching determination to rely on. Ironwood performs his best when he tempers himself because he understands himself, and others. It’s when he fails to self-reflect that his hypocrisy shows through. Glynda points it out, too, as does Qrow; Ironwood advocates for trust but often fails to give it himself, going behind Ozpin’s back, being absolutely shit at field communication, and now the whole fascist, borderline-genocidal keruffle he’s gotten himself into.
I think that Ironwood reaching out to Qrow was his ethical last stand, his last chance and conscious effort to choose the right path. Qrow is unequivocally an equal, not like how Ozpin is the Big Boss, the authority that James becomes disillusioned with and tries to overthrow. He wants someone to trust, desperately so, and Qrow wants that too, but narrative subversion has hands. The Scarecrow and the Tin Man have no brain and heart respectively, and are in need of them. As it turns out, Qrow is actually a pragmatic guy with solid principles angled against authoritarianism, and Ironwood is a dick who would rather enforce martial law than to empathize and tame his military-shaped boner for one second.
I might conclude that someone like Qrow might be best for Ironwood, but that does not mean that someone like Ironwood would be the best for Qrow. Qrow has a brain after all, but Ironwood does not choose his heart when it matters, case in point. Even the intro of the current season features Salem and Ironwood on a chessboard; his white pieces are disappearing, dissolving into dust, as hers transform into Grimm. Ironwood is isolating himself by depleting himself of allies. As this post by @hadesisqueer points out, Ironwood isn’t even positioned as King, the supposed commander, but the Queen, the most versatile player on the board that is so far underused, since he hasn’t moved from his spot. Ironwood’s refusal to unify against Salem is his failure to strategically utilize the best resources that were available to him; soon, the pieces will be swallowed by the dark.
James is guilty of something that a lot of us are guilty of: doing a Bad Thing for what we have convinced ourselves is a Good Reason, when in reality, it is actually a lot of Very Bad Reasons. James Ironwood is a Knight archetype, through and through, and he is charging forward to do the right thing. He is afraid, he is lying to himself, and he will never surrender.
“All the same,” said the Scarecrow, “I shall ask for brains instead of a heart; for a fool would not know what to do with a heart if he had one.”
“I shall take the heart,” returned the Tin Woodman; “for brains do not make one happy, and happiness is the best thing in the world.”
Dorothy did not say anything, for she was puzzled to know which of her two friends was right, and she decided if she could only get back to Kansas and Aunt Em, it did not matter so much whether the Woodman had no brains and the Scarecrow no heart, or each got what he wanted.
The lesson of James Ironwood is a lesson of failure, and of the way that we succumb to fear, because that is Salem’s agenda, really, in the end: fear. It’s the negative emotions, fear being first and foremost, that draw in and empower the Grimm, and it’s fear and uncertainty that causes chaos. It is when Dorothy’s friends give into their fear that they are truly defeated. FDR’s assertion that “The only thing to fear is fear itself” holds true here; it’s not so much that these characters are afraid of losing their lives, their loved ones, and of the dark, but that they do not have the love or the resources to be brave for themselves or for others.
Qrow as a character is introduced as one who is already defeated, in a sense. Half of his team is gone, dead or estranged, he’s forced into the shadows of espionage to protect a world he knows is darker than it should be, and he’s fighting a losing battle with alcoholism. As charismatic as he’s written, he’s referred to as a “dusty old crow”, a hunter of renowned skill but past the prime of his life.
Dorothy’s three titular companions are defined by what they lack; in the same vein of the Disney I Want song (a main character’s main monologue song in which their wants and desires that motivate them throughout the rest of the film is laid out in song; ie Part of Your World, Reflections, How Far I’ll Go), the Lion, Tin Man, and the Scarecrow want bravery, a heart, and a brain respectively. RWBY relies on flipping the script of its characters based on what the audience might expect from the source material; Ruby is not just a helpless little girl - her introduction is a badass with a scythe. The Scarecrow is a chronic alchoholic. Cinderella is a victim of abuse, and is also a villain who wants to set the world aflame. Subversion, subversion, subversion.
There are obviously parallels between the characters in RWBY and in their own fairytales to keep them in character, and part of the fun is spotting those clues and occasionally connecting the dots to anticipate the direction of the narrative and certain connections between characters and the significance of their arcs. While I’m not aware of Dorothy Gale’s RWBY counterpart, if she has already been established or is yet to be introduced, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to assume that Ruby has adopted a Dorothy-eque persona and can act as a surrogate in a way. She begins as a sweet, naive child eager to join a world of color and excitement, who initially believes that she has “normal knees” and is thrust into a political scheme full of powerful and older players. She even has a small dog as a companion, Toto Zwei, who seems like an odd addition, since he’s usually sidelined and basically forgotten about except in a few spare moments, unless he’s there to draw further comparisons to Dorothy. She may not be from Kansas, but she is first helped by Glynda (the Good Witch), and later expects assistance from Ozpin, Qrow, and the later Ozian counterparts. I find it a peculiar detail that for Ruby to be Little Red Riding Hood alone, she is surrounded specifically by Dorothy’s companions. This, of course, only increases the importance of the relevance of the Oz series in particular and the characters that are borrowed.
In the case of Ozpin’s inner circle, Dorothy’s closest comrades (sans Toto) differ in crucial ways to their source material. (After finishing this essay, I found a much better, condensed explanation by @neopoliitan )
Disillusioned by the Ozpin, the Wizard (who has been projecting an illusion of a failsafe) and overwhelmed by the rise of the Wicked Witch of the West, Lionhart (the Lion), gives into his cowardice and ultimately forgoes the arc and redemption of his character from the source material; as such, he is by all definitions, a failure and a premonition, as Ironwood eventually follows. If RWBY is a dark take on classic fairytales, then it is only fitting that these characters are charred husks of their fairytale selves - these are people, and some people are selfish, scared, and cowardly, and they do not overcome these traits.
This is all opinion based, pure speculation. I have no idea what will happen in the next episode, and whatever goes down will be...shit will hit the fan. I’m under no delusions that Ironqrow is going to be canon in a healthy, tender, endgame sense. They’re both kind of losing their minds, and Ironwood is shitting absolute bricks. No, they’re going to try to kill each other, and I personally cannot wait for Qrow to cleave this man in two. (Not sexually, just, literally. Like, with a scythe.)
On that note, I think that the RWBY writers are good at callbacks, at drawing attention to their own connections, and if Ironwood and Qrow’s inevitable confrontation is scheduled, then it will include visual callbacks to Qrow saving James at Beacon, maybe shot for shot. Their visuals have only gotten better as time goes on, and I imagine Ironwood’s eyes widening as Qrow leaps through the air, scythe drawn, in recal of a moment so long ago when they weren’t on the same page, but they were at least on the same side. When Qrow brings the blade down, there will be no enemy behind him. Only Jimmy James. The difference between the two of them will be that Qrow isn’t fighting out of fear, but out of love, for what happened to Clover, and to what could happen to his girls.
Qrow’s reliance on alcohol, as well as his (mostly) feigned nonchalance is meant to fit with the motif that the Scarecrow has no brain, and, had he a mind to desire anything, would desire it most of all. His role is, also, notably, gathering intelligence for Ozpin (his character is also based on Munnin from Norse mythology). There is so much about Qrow that is an act and so much that is not, and I think that this act is born both from this motif and from his own cynicism, and the alcohol contributes to this act. However, he eventually gets sober after Ruby expresses legitimate frustration, and he understands that he’s putting their lives at risk. While one could say that he gave up drinking for the kids, I would argue that the kids - Ruby in particular - made him want to give up drinking for himself, to better himself.
While Lionhart and Ironwood betray the people depending on them, Qrow’s love for his nieces (and for the kids) allows him to deviate from this pattern. The answer to fear is perhaps not merely bravery - Qrow’s triumph is love.
Ironwood knows triumph in the context of a military state, but he’s backed himself into a corner. Soon he will find himself alone and friendless. Hopefully, his last stand will not be in vain.
#ironqrow#james ironwood#qrow branwen#rwby#rwby8 spoilers#rwby volume 8#rwby meta#ok this is all just based on my opinion ok#like i ship ironqrow but ironwood is a dicktator if u know what i mean#he is probably gonna die but anyway#ironqrow meta#winter schnee#snowbird#also includes links and credit to other posts and metas#I just had to get this off of my chest ok
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OPEN SKY Bakugou Katsuki x Reader
“…And never, ever forget that, your dreams are the wings that’ll help you fly.”
(L/N)(Y/N) has always been forced to live according to others’ expectations. As a member of the powerful and influential (L/N) Family, she has had to live with the heavy weight of seeing others write her destiny with no choice but just obey. But when (Y/N) finally decides to risk it all to take the only opportunity to regain the control of her own life, everything ends up going horribly wrong. Surrendered and disappointed, she receives one last chance to prove to herself and to U.A, along with some unexpected help that this was not a crazy and meaningless waste of time.
Maybe this plan could work after all…
PAIRING: (Bakugou Katsuki x Reader)
GENRE/WARNINGS: Romance, Fluff, Angst, Mentions of sex (nothing explicit tho), dark themes, My poor attempt of comedy, family dysfunctionality, toxic relationships, Strong language (Courtesy of King Lord Explosion Murder 💥), Manga Spoilers.
STATUS: On going
Masterlist \( ̄︶ ̄*\))
6- Have We Got a Deal?
✒A/N:
I rewrote this chapter like three times, and hopefully, now it turned out better. I read my progress again a couple of weeks ago and it was simply, not right. I hated it so much that I decided to delete it and work again on it. The essence is the same of what I planned for this chapter and although it is a bit longer now, I took the chance to get into more detail about certain things and express better about others. The conversation between Reader-chan and Kaguya may have become a bit deeper than it used to be, but I really liked the outcome and gave me more ideas for the future plot. That's all for now.
Hope you enjoy it! q(≧▽≦q)
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So, my dear sweet cousin, do you accept or not?
“W-Wait a minute! You can’t be serious, do you- do you understand the implications of what you’re saying?!” You said incredulously.
“Of course I do, why do you think we are here?” Kaguya said while she took another canape and bit it. She chewed slowly while you watched her attentively, the dread in your stomach growing by increments, exasperated for her to continue. She finally swallowed and took a sip of wine.
“So? Would you care to explain what on earth is actually happening, because you don’t expect me to believe that the cause of such an unprecedented change is because of some internet gossip” You said in a demanding tone.
“Of course it’s not, but if you are patient enough I’ll explain it to you with pleasure, so you better watch your tone with me, brat.” She hissed.
You puffed out your cheeks but nodded in cue for her to continue.
“Approximately three days ago grandmother convened a last-minute meeting in her abode to discuss this problem. At first, I thought she was overreacting about this whole ordeal, after all big corporates and companies are attacked and critized all the time, but after a long, long discussion, we all agreed that the situation should not be taken lightly and it needed to be addressed as soon as possible.”
“That bad it is?” You asked slightly concerned.
“Unfortunately,” Kaguya answered. “Walls covered in graffiti in Kyoto, people protesting and messing with the employees at the ER main entrance in Hosu, broken windows in Deika and thousands and thousands of emails and nasty messages in all our social media accounts. We had to hire the services of a whole publicity agency so they could deal with the problem, hardly. It has been difficult to contain, but it paid off because it hasn’t been leaked into any important newscast. Internet, the origin of the problem, has been another story, unfortunately, in these cases, it can be very difficult and unforgiving to work with; once something enters, is nearly impossible to pull it out and if you succeed there’s always a risk it would pop up anywhere when you least expect it.” Kaguya said while she rubbed her temples.
“Internet is a huge source of news and information for thousands of people nowadays, even millions, fake or not, and also the main responsible that this situation slipped out of control faster.”
You contemplated your next words as you soaked in all the information you just were provided with, so you could express your ideas and queries as clear as possible. “Okay…but why is everybody so angry about our current family situation? I get it’s messed up, but why go as far as vandalize privite property and nag about it on social media?” You asked slightly hesitant.
“As an institution, we had always presented and preserved ourselves as a family, working to, and for the Japanese families generation after generation, no matter where we went, we always went together, always radiating the image of a happy, healthy, and unified family. Throughout the time several members of our family had made multiple presentations in public inspiring kindness and charisma, earning the trust and love of the people, which is impressive considering the heavily hero centered world we live in. Now that there are strong rumors putting all of these apparent facts into question, some people feel mocked, disappointed, and cheated… besides other things.” Kaguya mumbled.
“Sorry I could not listen the last part Kaguya.” You said puzzled.
“Don’t worry, I was just talking to myself, the important thing is that the problem is been solved, millions will be invested but is necessary. We have already started a huge ad campaign, a lot of important heroes will be involved so we can reassure and remind people why we have been their number one choice during over a century, that we still the same and will always remain the same, that we do not change, we improve.”
“I see, but you haven’t explained what does this have to do with me going to U.A-”
“As I told you she decided to make exceptions, due to the unusual situation we are going through right now we need unusual solutions as well and as part of our ad campaign and for the sake of our image she decided that two fortunate souls would have the chance to pursue a carrier of their choice, you know to placate the masses.”
“ Of course, a different series of factors would be taken into account when examining the option chosen and its potential benefits for the interests of the company, if these results are not satisfactory, the other alternatives will be analyzed to find a more suitable one and the aforementioned process will be repeated. Once we find satisfactory results, grandmother will proceed to revise everything once more and give her approval or deny it.”
“So, what you’re telling me is that we are doing the same thing but with more options? And they are going to evaluate if we can actually perform well in these new career options?” You asked unimpressed at your grandmas’ unwillingness to let the leash lose a bit even in a situation like this.
“Exactly right, it’s a change but there are still rules nonetheless.” Kaguya affirmed as she refilled her cup again. “Don’t get me wrong, she is really mad, just the thought of sacrifice two pawns in one single move is driving her crazy”
“Which selection system will be used in this case?” You asked.
“Nominations. As you already know there are two potential candidates, besides you of course.”
“Two? But there’s other three-”
“Aya has already been selected by grandmother herself, he’ll be enrolled into U.A next year via recommendation, everything is ready and processed the only thing left is to break the news on him.”
You grimaced, anxious, and preoccupied to see your already thin chances narrow even more. Your cousin, Aya was a famous vlogger and influencer with a strongly settled fanbase in and out of Japan. His videos generally focus on his daily life, trips to cool and exotic destinations, and the typical ‘eat this’, ‘do that’ challenges that always went around the internet.
He also participated in different campaigns to raise funds for different charitable causes and was a fervent advocator of animal rights and the environment, even donating millions from his own pocket. He always did his best to involve the name of the (L/N) Group, allowing them to organize, participate and sponsor some of these events helping bust their image as a caritative, conscious, and woke organization.
The bastard overflew with kindness and charisma and knew how to surround himself with the right people to manage his channel properly, although no relatable for the regular mid-class YouTube user, you had to admit that his videos were fun, entertaining, interesting, and sometimes, informative, that was the reason they were always flooded with millions of views, comments, likes and overall the crushing success he was experiencing every time he uploaded a new one.
He’s rich, famous, handsome, and had an appealing personality, add hero to that list and you’ll get the recipe to success. It wouldn't surprise you at all if he reached the top 10 of the HBC in a year just out of sheer popularity. His quirk is also fitted for a hero, he’ll need some serious training, but nothing that money and elite PT could not manage.
“How am I supposed to compete with that?” You whispered with your head down watching how your knuckles turned whiter as your hands crinkled your uniform skirt.
“Don’t trouble yourself with what you’re not supposed to, Aya is not competition, not anymore, instead try to focus on the actual competition, and may I add that you got a really big chance with my brother out of the picture. Kaguya smirked at you confidently.
“You think so?” You asked doubtfully.
“Believe me (Y/N), my sister is really smart and competent, but has the charm and social skills of a cardboard box, and Himeko, well… we could resume all her virtues, abilities and skills to shopping, makeup, gossip, selfies, social media, being pretty and an absolute headache. Grandmother got big plans for her after she graduates though, so I’ll take her out of the picture as well.”
“Big plans?” You said arching your eyebrow.
“Let’s say that, right now, we have a great, juicy, and very convenient deal that is in negociation right now and she is a vital piece to close it successfully. Don’t worry, your curiosity will be satiated soon enough.”
“What worries me is that I think I got a grasp of what you’re talking about.”
“Aw. Come on, businesses are businesses (Y/N), C’est la vie.” She said as she shrugged uninterested.
“Yeah, because is not you.” You grumbled.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, why don’t you continue.”
“You are right, where we were? Oh, right.”
‘Was she really just dismissing the topic like that?!’
“Tell me (Y/N), do you think that I would have brought you here and propose this plan to you if I didn’t have an ace up my sleeve? Please. There are some important and positive points that can grant us success if we exploit them properly, but we must play our cards wisely, unfortunately, that’ll have to wait until we are completely alone.” Confused your arched your eyebrow, until your ears were met with the sound of the wheels of a certain golden cart rapidly approaching.
“Hello again ladies, let me take this off,” Hiro said while he took the almost empty canape plate along the rest of the dishes. “Is there anything else you would like? Would you like another beverage (L/N)-sama?” Hiro said looking at your semi voided glass.
“Y-Yes please”
“Alright!” With the swift and skill of years of experience, Hiro served your plates, removed the shiny silver food covers, refilled both water cups and Kaguya’s wine cup as well in less than a minute. “Please enjoy, if there’s anything else you would like I’ll be happy to assist you! I’ll be back in a minute with your drink miss.”
You spent the next couple of minutes in total silence waiting for your drink in order to continue your conversation privately and interruption-free. Just as said, Hiro returned instants later with the promised drink and finally left you two to converse calmly.
“Well, now that the coast is clear, let me fill you up with what you have to know and do in order to obtain a favorable outcome for both of us.” Kaguya began as she sliced a bite of quail breast.
“So, this is my plan…”
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Now with your dinner night already finished, you were now heading to your house. This ride was as quiet as the one to the restaurant, but without the suffocating weight of uncertainty. Your head was filled now with the echoes of your conversation with Kaguya, debating, analyzing, considering, comprehending every single word of it.
“You seem troubled, you are doubtful, aren’t you?” Said Kaguya interrupting your thoughts.
“I’m more scared than anything if this doesn’t work-”
“It will, you already know what to do, just focus on that. I’ll keep in contact with you anyway, in case of emergencies or any last-minute matter.” She then proceeded to rummage in her purse and took out a brand-new phone, it was one of those not so high-quality flip phones that you can get for a really low price, probably a disposable one.
“I already put my phone number in it, so we can communicate without issue. This phone is a really basic one, so it has no internet access but you have unlimited calls and texts. Just make sure to keep it hidden from your mother or that blabbermouth maid of yours.”
“Yes, I’ll find a place.”
“Perfect, remember, the announce dinner will be this Saturday, surely your mom would tell you, everybody will be there, they must at least.”
Another twenty minutes passed before you were at the main door of your lavish home. Silently, you excited the car after Soichiro opened the door for you and you headed to the front door.
“We’ll keep in contact, until then, (Y/N).” Kaguya said softly, once she finished Soichiro shut the door, bowed his head, and wished you a good evening. He straightened up his posture and proceeded to hop in the car again. Quietly you observed the car get farther and farther until it disappeared. You stayed there in silence, while the nightly wind swayed your hair delicately. The sound of the door opening distracted you, then, you turned around to be met with the gentle smile of Nobu-san.
“Okaerinasai, (Y/N)-sama, how was your dinner with Kaguya-sama?”
“Pretty…unexpected.” You looked everywhere, making sure that nobody else was listening to your conversation. “I’ll fill you out on the details later” You whispered and Nobu-san nodded knowingly. “I see, your bath is ready (Y/N)-sama. Please take your time and relax, it’s been a long night after all,” He got slightly closer to you and cupped his hand around his mouth, and whispered. “I’m pretty sure you’ll make good use of this time to ponder any thought that is troubling your mind.” He distanced from you, crossed his arms behind his back, and gave you a gentle closed-eye smile. “Would you like a cup of tea after your bath?”
You smiled at him fondly.
“(F/T/F), please.”
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You’ve been lying if you said that you could actually sleep the night before. Your head could not stop to reproduce in a loop your conversation with Kaguya the night before, like a broken record you couldn’t escape from. Before you noticed, the outrageous melody of your alarm resounded in the spaciousness of your room. You groaned in protest, unwillingly getting up to start your day.
Dressed and ready, you took your bag and went downstairs to have breakfast. Before you could finish hopping down the stairs you caught a glimpse of your mother sitting at the head chair, like always with your father by her side, she was holding her morning coffee while she read some emails on her laptop.
As always she looked stunning in her soft pink and golden outfit, she crossed her legs, put down her cup and started typing in her laptop.
You straighten your posture the best you could and approached the table with delicate steps. “Good morning mother, good morning dad”
“Good morning dear, how did you sleep?” Said your mother without taking her eyes off the screen in a somewhat flat tone as her fingers tapped nimbly over the keyboard. “Pretty well, and yourself?” You said while you took a seat at the innecesarily expansive dinning table.
“Not so well sadly, there’s been some… issues I had to take care of.” She hissed a bit irritated as she rubbed her temples.
“I-I see, hopefully, you’ll have a better day today, mother.”
“I doubt it, unluckily, but thank you for your words, darling. Now hurry up or you’ll be late.”
“Yes, mother.”
“You should have some fresh fruit honey; the mangos are delicious!” Said the cheerful voice of your father. You smiled fondly at him while he reciprocated with a smile of his own. “I’ll do then, thank you for your suggestion dad.” You answered while one of the maids served you a portion of fresh mixed fruit in a bowl and Nobu-san poured tea in your cup.
“(Y/N)” Spoke your mom.
“Yes, mother?”
“Your grandmother had organized a family dinner this Saturday that we must assist, of course, I expect nothing less of you than be on your best behavior, also is imperative that you choose your outfit today so I can determine if it’s appropriate for the occasion. If you need to go shopping just tell Sasaki, I activated your debit card again just this time.” She said authoritatively.
“Yes mother, I’ll do it today after class.” You said as you topped your fruit with some honey, yougurt and granola.
“Splendid, now if you excuse me, I have to go now, Haru, hurry up or we’ll be late”
“Yes, cara mia” Your father beamed. Your mother then rose from her chair took her handbag and draped her coat over her shoulders. Your father then finished his coffee as soon as he could and went behind her. “Have a good day princess!” Exclaimed you dad. “Thank you, you too!” You answered while you saw them get escorted by an army of bodyguards.
Soon enough the door was closed and you were left alone. “(Y/N)-sama I advise you to hurry as well, school starts in thirty minutes” Said the familiar voice of Nobu-san. “What!? Oh, I’m going to be late! Ok, I got this! I’ll brush my teeth and I’ll be ready-please ask Sasaki-san to start the car! I will be there in a minute!” You stuttered while climbing up stairs.
“Sure thing, Ojou-sama,” He said with an amused smile.
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“Thank you again for joining me for shopping Momo”
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all, I’ll also take the chance to buy some new accessories as well,” Beamed your ravenette friend. It was the end of the school day and you had asked Momo to help you choose new accessories to complement a dress you already had.
“But to be honest I never imagine that your mom would lose her grip on you so soon even if it’s temporary, what surprised me more was what Kaguya-san told you yesterday,” She whispered trying to no let your conversation be known by Sasaki-san although the automated partition window was up as a precautionary measure. “Are you sure you can trust her?” She said concerned.
“I still don’t know, suddenly everything became so complicated, I mean her plan is good and has a high probability to work, and right now I don’t have a better option, I don’t even have any options, to begin with!” You groaned, confused.
“What’s still bugging me is why is she helping you in the first place? I can’t help but find it suspicious no matter how much I think about it. Did you ask her something about it?”
“I did, but she went into this mysterious and enigmatic mode and just said something like ‘You’ll know soon enough’ It would be easier to pinch a glass than get something out of her.” You said with a tone of frustration.
“I guess that the only thing we can do now is to wait and see,” Sighed Momo while she shrugged her shoulders. “By the way, what are we going to do first?” She said more animatedly.
“Let’s start with the shoes and then maybe a new jewelry set, a new clutch as well would be good. What you think?”
“I think is a splendid idea!” Momo exclaimed.
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🏷Taglist:
@bakasbitch18
#bnha x reader#boku no hero academia#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou x reader#katsuki x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader#bakugo x reader#mha x reader#my hero acdemia#boku no hero academia fanfic#my hero academia fanfic#bnha fanfiction#mha fanfiction#bnha#mha#bakugo#bakugou#fem reader#angst#fluff#Multichapter#series#female oc#male oc#dysfuntional family#friendship to lovers#shinso needs more screen time#yaoyorozu#momo#yaomomo
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Summer Nights (1)
A/N: Welcome to the first chapter of my new and long time awaited series - Summer Nights. Please read every necessary information in the INDEX of the story (warnings, summary). Do not forget that the fic is quite mature and might contain some obscene stuff (i.a. alcohol and sexual items). I’ll try to post each chapter regularly (like one per week?) however as it sometimes turns out - I can be unreliable in that matter ( ;
Words: 2.6k
Warnings: coarseness, poverty problems, swearing, alcohol and sexual items (or rather mentions of them?), reference to arranged marriage
Tags: @okaydraco @idkatee @paradigmax @winnsmills @war-sword
You turned your gaze away from a computer screen and looked yearningly out of the window on the chaotic streets of Paris.
At that time of day, the city seemed to teem with life, especially in the summer season when many tourists came over to visit the town. You could notice a variety of cultures among crowds of people. They gathered and filled in restaurants, eating and laughing, and chatting with each other.
So how, for God’s sake, did you deserve to be at work today?
The thought of scrumptious spaghetti and a glass of red wine made you feel frustrated. And cloudless, wonderful weather waiting for you outside did not make it any better. You imagined yourself laying in a bikini on the sandy beach with ‘Vogue’ magazine on your laps and Pina Colada in your hands. Or bathing in warm ocean water with sun rays smoothly tanning your skin.
These visions caused a dreamy smile to appear on your face.
However, as soon as you scooted over in a fantasy world, the poke in your shoulder brought you back to reality. You turned your head to the side to see your co-worker and best friend, Chloe. She was crouching next to your chair with her piercing gaze studying your face attentively.
Chloe was a gorgeous woman, and you could easily say that she could break more than one heart. She had big, blue eyes and long, blonde curls falling on her slim shoulders. She had full, pink lips with a Greek-type nose and prominent cheekbones that highlighted her beauty. Her figure was feminine and slender with ample bosom, flat belly, and long legs.
There had been many situations when groups of passing-by boys stopped her in the middle of the pavement, scanning her body up and down with boisterous whistles and comments of a sexual nature. Although you had always tried to stand up in her defense, she never really cared to bother much, just shrugging it off.
“Are you alright?” She narrowed her eyes doubtfully. “You look like a walking dead.”
“Thanks,” you chuckled amused, bitting your cheek. “No, I’m actually fine. Just a little bit dizzy, but don’t worry about it. ”
“For sure? You know, if you take a nap at work, I might be the first person to know about it.” both of you chortled slightly, and you rested your elbows on the armrest. Chloe’s phone started to buzz in her purse. She took it out, muted it down, and eyed you again.
“Anyways. Why are you leaving so early? It’s just four o’clock, and I thought you were ending your shift at eight.” You peeked at the watch on your hand and arched your eyebrow suspiciously at her. Now it was your turn to interrogate her.
“Well, I took a day off,” she informed you. “I’m having a date with Louis today. We meet at six, and he takes me to some fancy restaurant. Of course, he didn’t want to tell me the exact location, mentioning something about ruining the surprise. You know him..” She rolled her eyeballs playfully with a meaningful sigh and an unambiguous smile plastered on her face.
Louis was Chloe’s boyfriend, but also one of your closest friends. You couldn’t say he was the easy-going type of person, and when you first met him, you had presumed his behavior to be a little bit too ‘self-centered’. However, after many years of acquaintance, you had learned that he was rather desperate to drag attention on himself and impress others, with you and Chloe included.
“Lucky. I’m stuck in here for a night shift,” you complained, leaning on the chair's backrest and letting a small groan out of your mouth. It was the third time this week you had to stay at your job for night time. And that wore you out.
“Again?” She frowned.
“Unfortunately...” You grimaced, glancing at your friend with a corner of your eye. “My father hasn’t paid the bills again. I’ve to earn some extra money…"
"Can I-"
"I know you want to help, but please, let's not think about it," you cut the conversation out. Your face started to get warmer, so you lowered your head as not to show your embarrassment. You trusted your friend with all of your soul but still more than felt awkward when it came up with family topics.
Chloe remained silent and smiled supportively, tightly gripping your palm. You appreciated her ability to understand people’s emotions and her tact of how to respond to them.
“I really have to go, Y/N. Call me if you needed any help.” Chloe stood up and went to the backroom of the reception. She put on her coat, wrapping her green bandana around her neck, and then slightly pecked your cheek. She walked over to the exit and, for the last time, turned towards you, waved in the bye, and left the hotel.
You gaped at the place where Chloe had just disappeared, slowly letting out your breath. After a while, you switched the laptop back on and decided to occupy yourself with reading. Clicking on the ‘iBooks’ application, you selected a book - ‘Bridget Jones’s Diary’. Maybe, at least that could help you take your mind off things and spend some of your time while visitors weren’t around. You opened the first chapter of the novel, but soon after, you heard someone entering the room again.
Lifting your head, you beheld an elegant woman with a younger boy by her side. You assumed them to be a family, considering their striking similarity in appearance. Also, they distinguish themselves from their surroundings with their peculiarly sophisticated garments and unnaturally pale skin.
The woman smiled at you kindly and approached the reception desk. You got up from the chair and reciprocated the gesture.
“Bonjour madame. Comment puis-je vous aider?” you asked and saw a confused expression painting on the woman’s face. She furrowed her eyebrows for a short moment and cleared her throat.
“Mm… Hello. Do you speak English?” she asked hesitantly with a language accent that informed you instantly of her origin. Many guests of the hotel usually arrived from different parts of the world, which had let you acquire the skill of guessing their probable nationalities.
“You’re British I see,” you noted, grinning. “Of course I do. Welcome to Paris! How can I help you?”
“We have a reservation under the name Malfoys.”
Nodding in understanding, your fingers swiftly started to tap the keyboard of the computer. You entered in the search engine of hotel’s guests with surname ‘MALFOYS’ and found a booking for two people.
“Could I check your ID cards first, ma’am?” you asked and saw her rummaging in the bag. Meanwhile, you started to prepare every necessary paper for her to fill out.
“Here it is,” she finally stated, and you reached over for the documents. You noticed the woman’s foot nervously tapping on the floor but decided to ignore it.
“Thank you,” you said while surveying everything. “Okay, so - Narcissa Malfoy, apartment number 354 - Presidential Suite. It’s on the fourth floor.” You laid the keys with ID cards on a counter top. “And Dra- Dra…”
“Draco. It’s Draco Malfoy,” the boy spoke up for the first time, and - by the tone of his voice - you could already judge that he wasn’t the friendliest type of a person, to say at least. You moved your gaze on his figure, and your eyes met with his stern glare, which sent unpleasant shivers down your spine. He was sitting on one of the lounge chairs located in the room, twisting a carved stick in his fingers. Quickly realizing that you stared at the object, he hid it in his pocket.
You giggled nervously and shook your head.
“Yes. Draco Malfoy. I’m sorry for my oversight.” You blushed profusely and tried your best to pretend that your pre-momentary blunder did not affect you anyhow. You took a second key from a shelf and placed it next to the first one. “Room number 355 - Royal Apartment. Although, it on the fifth floor, which means not located nearby your mom's one, sir."
“No problem for me.” Huffing, he got up from the armchair and walked over, grabbing the keys. His expression still evinced the arrogance, but now you had a chance to examine his appearance more closely and perceive his unparalleled attractiveness. His platinum hair suitably contrasted with grey irises, and the sharp jawline with his muscular body made your knees weak.
Just great...
“If there is anything you needed, please let me know,” you proffered and forced a smile, wishing it didn’t look so fake as it felt. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you,” said Narcissa, sauntering away with her son following shortly after. You took a last peek at Draco and saw him sending you an unpleasant look before leaving the lobby.
* * *
Narcissa with Draco entered her spacious hotel room. She began to look around the space, smacking her lips in delight. After that, she sat gingerly on her bed and discretely ran her fingers through the bedding set so as to verify its fabric. Draco knew and was accustomed to his mother’s atypical habit of checking the quality of things before using them.
She patted a place next to her, encouraging him to take a seat. He just pressed his lips into a straight line and only shook his head.
“Draco, let’s talk,” she started, grunting.“I think you should - at least - consider being tolerant of those muggles. I know it is a tough period of our lives, after the war...” Narcissa shuddered at the reference of that event and her eyes filmed over a little. “But it is time to move on. Wizarding World is not going to be this same for many years. That’s why for this vacation, I wanted us to come to the place that could let you dispose of redundant memories and experien-”
“Dispose of memories?” Draco cut her off and huffed, leaning flippantly against the wall. His voice was very tight and harsh.“How do you think I could possibly get rid of them? Maybe Dark Mark on my forearm would help me solve that issue? Or Obliviate spell would be a solution?”
At once, the blood was boiling in his veins. He didn’t blame his mother for decisions of the past, but he could not stop himself from snapping. A recollection of tortures he had had to perform on others, of tortures he had had to bear himself, of incurred deaths he had seen… and committed. That wasn’t a fleeting thing to forget.
Narcissa took a deep breath and ignored her son’s snarky comment. She decided not to give up with the plan of their conversation for this evening. So and so, he had to finally hear the truth, right?
“I and your father with Greengrass family established that by the end of this year, you are going to propose to one of their daughters.” She gazed at him, partly expecting the next outburst of emotions. Although Draco’s ears began dangerously reddening, she assumed the silence was a non-verbal acquiescence for her to continue. “You do not have to worry about arrangements for the nuptials, nor about other wedding cases. Everything is going to be organized. And I deeply believe that marring one of those beautiful girls might bring a state of contentment in your life.”
Draco gulped down his saliva and fixed his eyes on the floor, his face expressing wrath.
“I’m sorry mother, but I’ve no idea how marrying a person who I’ve hardly ever talked to could make me any happier.”
“Dear, me and Lucius did not fall in love at first sight either. Nevertheless, we accepted the unusual plight that we were put in, and then we got accustomed to leading our new, joint lifestyle,” she explained, carefully choosing her words. “And I am aware that it must be hard for you. So and it was for me. But now, I could not imagine it to be any different.”
“Well then, if you felt this same way as I do right now, please tell me why are you expecting this same from me by imposing the marriage? Why can’t I choose someone to fall in love with?”
Good point.
Narcissa seemed to be momentarily speechless by his question because there was an awkward, uncomfortable pause for a long moment. Draco sniggered loudly and turned away to leave, but before doing so, his mom’s voice echoed in the room again.
“Love is only a matte-“ she took her last try to argue, her tone rather desperate.
“I don’t care!” he yawped, turning the knob and slamming the door behind him with a violent bang.
Draco headed over to search for a bar where he could abreact the minute-ago conversation. The tension of his body was unbearably upsetting, and his heart was pounding aggressively in his rib cage. His fists clutched tightly, knuckles becoming white and teeth clenched.
Fuck his parents.
Fuck them with their shitty ideas.
When would be a time for him to be able to determine his own opinions about matters in his life? Or rather, the doubt is - would there ever be that time?
Before he knew it, he found himself in this same lobby where he had been an hour ago. As he walked over to the recently encountered receptionist, he spotted her writing something vigorously on an odd, square box. As to not arise any suspicion, he decided to act casually and hide his enticing interest in this particular... object.
Soon enough, you noticed the blond-haired boy and realized it was the man from earlier. A bump formed in your throat, and you fought a sudden urge to run away. Instead, you just set your phone aside and lifted yourself up, all your muscles refusing to do this same activity for the thousandth time this day (‘Is this some kind of aerobic or what?!’).
“Is there something I could help with, sir?” you asked with a smile, trying to remain calm, which was an exceptionally intractable task in this boy’s presence. Maybe as an effect of tiredness, it was hard for you to compose, but you did not like it a bit.
“Yes, actually.” At least he took his best effort to be polite. Although a horrible exasperation, as if something pained him, still convulsed his features. “I wondered if there was a place where I could have some Firewhisky or so?”
‘Firewhisky?’ you thought. ‘Is it some kind of British dainty?’
“Well, for sure I haven’t heard of heating up Whisky before,” you joked, attempting to lighten things up. However, his glare gave you a hint he was definitely not put in a mood for such things.“But there is a pub where you could have a drink, sir. It’s on the opposite street, so all you need to do is to cross over a road.”
Draco nodded. "Oh, and one more thing." He reached over to the inner pocket of his sable jacket and took out an ornamental envelope with an old-fashioned red seal on the top of it. "If the woman who I was with before starts looking after me, hand her over this letter, could you?"
You didn't know where an uninvited rush of interest hailed from, but the mystery-insatiate part of your brain screamed out at you to play along with his cards to winkle out more information. "What if she asks me questions? Shoul-"
"Bend the truth. I only ask you to do one thing for me. Don't reveal to her where or when I went. I gave you the envelope and disappeared out of your sight. Understood, muggle?"
You didn't grasp the last part of his sentence; the one concerning --mugel? meagul? megull? -- but you could bet it meant to be an insult. Swallowing your suspicious hunch, you put on a sympathetic smile. "Sure can do, sir. Hope you have a good night out."
"Thanks. Later." And without any other word, he strode away.
#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy#draco malfoy x female reader#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy fic#Summer Nights#draco x reader#draco x you#draco malfoy fanfiction#draco malfoy x oc#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#draco malfoy x you#Harry Potter imagine#draco malfoy fanfic#hp#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy x muggle#my writing#draco
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Title: Never Empty of You Pairing: Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian Rating: Teen Audiences Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24029869 Summary: Taking his tray of coffee and plate of sandwich, he searches for a place to eat his meal while he waits for his shijie, Jiang Yanli. That’s when he sees him. The guy he’d manage to get acquainted with for the last few days they’ve accidentally run into each other in the café. Lan Zhan. Fortunately, Wei Wuxian remembers his name. or the one where Wei Wuxian has been cursed **
**
‘I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you everyday.’
-Lemony Snicket
**
**
The café is bustling with people for their brunch on an early Sunday afternoon. And Wei Wuxian should have expected this since it’s the weekend — and he forgot somehow — but still he can’t help but be put out about it since he favours this café so much. Not just because he often gets free cookies from his barista friend, Wen Nings.
All of the tables are taken, especially the ones on the outside since it’s one sunny Spring Day and everyone seems to want a patch of sunlight after the heavy pouring earlier last week. To be honest, he’s quite tired of the rainy weather as well. Water ghouls and ghosts are the most exhausting things to fight. Slippery little shits.
Not to mention the frigid condition they have to work with. It’s hard to move in wet clothes and how the cold somehow clings much closer to your skin, seeps deep into your bones. He’s not looking forward to more night huntings in this rainy season. But someone needs to accompany Jiang Cheng, his little brother.
Taking his tray of coffee and plate of sandwich, he searches for a place to eat his meal while he waits for his shijie, Jiang Yanli. That’s when he sees him. The guy he’d manage to get acquainted with for the last few days they’ve accidentally run into each other in the café. Lan Zhan. Fortunately, Wei Wuxian remembers his name.
He plasters a smile, feeling lucky that he won’t have to wait for so long for a table to clear up and heads to the other man’s table. It’s a four seater table, but somehow no one had asked to sit with Lan Zhan. He guesses it’s because the man looks frigid to most people: golden eyes all sharp, stony beautiful features, lips on a constant thin line. Wei Wuxian has nothing bad to say about him, except that he’s ridiculously cool which is a great envy.
Plus, when Wei Wuxian didn’t have a cable to charge his phone, Lan Zhan graciously offered his own cable. You really cannot judge a person by their exterior. Since then they’ve exchanged a few greetings here and there, they’ve managed to introduced themselves to each other, talk a bit about the weather sometimes, mentions their families and their jobs but not in details, just little informations; so you can’t really call it friendship, even when he somehow wants to.
‘Lan Zhan,’ he greets, grin all too big on his face, he knows, but he can’t help it. He feels calm around this man despite everything shit that’s happening in his life right now.
Lan Zhan looks startled to see him, putting down the scroll he’s reading.
Wei Wuxian doesn’t even comment on the scroll because who the fuck in their era would read a scroll? But of course, Lan Zhan does because he’s old school like that; he’s a historian, for crying out loud.
Sometimes, he wonders if Lan Zhan believes in the supernatural since there are lots of history books about them. The West has their stories of witches, whom they burned at the stake; there are records about monsters in other countries as well. But that’s not really the best topic opener, right? How weird will that make him seem.
‘Do you mind?’ He gestures to the empty seat. ‘There are more people today and —’
‘Go ahead,’ Lan Zhan replies immediately, cutting him off. He quickly fixes his scroll to make room for Wei Wuxian’s things on the table. In his hasten, he almost knocks his coffee cup over.
It’s the first time Wei Wuxian see him get flustered. He kind of feels bad about it now. Maybe Lan Zhan is not used in sharing table with people he’s not close with.
‘Uhm… You can tell me if this is making you uncomfortable,’ he assures him, ignoring the sad twitch in his chest. ‘I’m sure a table will clear up in a few minutes.’
‘No.’ For a second Wei Wuxian thinks Lan Zhan’s about to reach out to him, hold him in place to stay. ‘I mean,’ Lan Zhan clears his throat, ‘this is okay.’ He stares at Wei Wuxian with conviction. ‘I don’t mind. Not at all.’
‘Thanks,’ he replies, putting his drink and food on the table and taking the seat opposite to Lan Zhan. ‘I’m suppose to meet my sister but couldn’t remember what time she said it will be. I guess I got here earlier than our arranged time, and I have also forgotten my phone.’ He laughs deprecatingly. ‘I forgot a lot of things these days. And today seems to just be my most unlucky day.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Lan Zhan says sincerely, almost pained like he’s the one going through Wei Wuxian’s day.
He places the smile back on his face, uncomfortable seeing the other man upset on his behalf. It just doesn’t sit well with him, no one should make Lan Zhan unhappy. Ever.
‘Thanks. But it’s okay.’ He shrugs. ‘Things just happen sometimes. It’s no one’s fault. Although, people did say I was born under unlucky stars, which explains all the series of unfortunate events in my life.’ He sips from his cup. ‘But I think, everyone makes their own fate in the world, right? That’s why we have this life. It’s up to us how we live it.’
He really should stop talking like some cryptic fellow. Not that there’s anything normal about him since he hunts monsters and ghosts for a living. Who knew the supernatural phenomena in the modern world doesn’t cease with the course of time?
‘Mn.’ Lan Zhan nods, staring with those earnest golden eyes.
‘I’m sorry for disturbing you with my nonsense.’ He smiles, face slightly heating up on his sudden outburst. There’s just something about Lan Zhan’s gaze that gets under his skin. Not in a bad way, but in a good way which somehow is more worse.
‘I don’t mind.’ The Historian smiles, small but soft.
Wei Wuxian almost chokes on the piece of sandwich he’s chewing. It’s clearly unfair for Lan Zhan to be this attractive and to have him throw around smiles like those. It’s not safe for anyone’s well-being. He clears his throat and takes another sip of his coffee, looking at everywhere except meeting Lan Zhan’s ardent’s gaze.
Being known as someone who’s shameless, it’s the first time for Wei Wuxian to feel this unsettled around someone. It’s usually the other way around. He takes another bite of his sandwich, surreptitiously peering at the man over his lashes in some hope for answers as to why Lan Zhan has this effect on him.
‘You’re married,’ he says, surprise by the silver band on the man’s fourth left finger, but more importantly, shock with the dejection lacing in his voice. If Lan Zhan notices, the man doesn’t show, only traces the ring with his other hand.
‘Yes,’ Lan Zhan answers, elated but there’s a hint of misery he tries to hide. His golden eyes pierces into Wei Wuxian’s for a second before he avoids his gaze like he’s afraid of being read. ‘Loving him was the best choice I’ve made… Not that I can fix the time I’ve decided to, or which part of him made me fall so completely that I was already in the middle before I knew that I had started.’
A tight grip wraps itself around Wei Wuxian’s heart at the sudden confession. He didn’t expect it, let alone be the receiving end of them with Lan Zhan’s full attention on him: intense and warm at the same time. It’s like looking at the sun and not knowing whether to look away or bask in its heat.
There’s a lump on his throat that resembles envy, or it’s probably an evolve longing that had been sitting in his chest for some time now. Nevertheless, he pushes it all aside and plasters a smile.
‘That sounds very romantic.’ He clears his throat again to get rid of the unwanted obstruction in his windpipe. It’s probably a rouge sandwich piece that he almost choke on a while ago. ‘What a lucky guy.’ He sips his coffee again so he doesn’t add anything absurd like: I envy him.
Another trace of that small, soft smile paints Lan Zhan’s lips again. And Wei Wuxian aches to taste it, but he can’t; reminds himself that he’s better than that.
‘I’m the lucky one,’ Lan Zhan says. ‘And maybe that’s the reason why this is my burden to carry.’
Wei Wuxian wants to ask what the man meant, but Wen Ning arrives with a slice of Sriracha Sweet Milk Chocolate Tart. The barista smiles at the both of them.
‘I didn’t order that,’ he tells his friend, knowing Wen Ning’s probably saved him a sliced of his favourite dessert when their chef makes it.
‘Oh no, Wangji-ge actually ordered this one,’ Wen Ning informs. ‘This is the last slice actually.’ The younger man looks abashed. ‘I forgot to save some for you. It’s quite popular these days.’
‘No, it’s ok—’
‘You can have mine,’ Lan Zhan offers.
He turns to the him. ‘It’s okay,’ he assures. ‘I have it all the time. You enjoy it.’
‘I really don’t mind.’ He pushes the tart towards Wei Wuxian.
‘You don’t have to.’
‘I insist.’ There’s that small, gentle smile again and Wei Wuxian’s heart does this thing again like it’s about to rattle inside his ribcage.
This could go on forever, Lan Zhan looks like a stubborn fellow. And as much as it would be fun to volley the tart like this, it wouldn’t be good for Wei Wuxian’s sanity. Just how much more can he take of those sincere smile without coughing his heart out and offering it to this quiet, sweet man?
‘We can share it,’ Wei Wuxian decides, taking small dessert fork and cutting the tart in half. ‘There,’ he announces, proud of his messy handiwork and realising that Wen Ning has left.
‘I really don’t mind,’ Lan Zhan repeats, taking half of the tart and putting it on Wei Wuxian’s empty sandwich plate. ‘It’s your favourite dessert. Not mine.’
Lan Zhan ceases halfway, abandoning his action and pulling his hands away from Wei Wuxian’s space.
‘What did you say?’ He stares in astonishment at the man across him. He doesn’t remember sharing this information. Clearly, they haven’t discussed this topic, he’s certain. And Lan Zhan’s deer caught in headlights reaction tells Wei Wuxian everything he needs to know. ‘How do you know? Who are you?’
‘Wei Ying.’ It’s carefully spoken, like it’s safe in Lan Zhan’s lips, like it’s home there.
No one has ever said his name like that. He always prefers Wuxian because people tend to mock him by using his birth name like it’s a curse, sometimes dripping with sarcasm or disgust.
But Lan Zhan mutters it with reverence and adoration, it literally steals his breath because the last time someone spoke his name like that it was his late parents. And it’s been a long time since his heart felt this warmth of being seen and loved.
‘Wei Ying, please.’
A blurry set of memories passes by: a soft hand running through his hair while humming a song as he buries his face into someone’s soft clothed thighs, a kiss on the forehead with his name on their lips at the promise of breakfast, him pulling someone’s hand hurriedly as they tell him to be careful, a sound of someone quietly sobbing his name.
The chair’s legs make an awful groan as Wei Wuxian abruptly stands, rattling the contents of their table. He must have looked like a spook animal.
‘I can explain,’ Lan Zhan pacifies, hand in the space between them like he wants to close the distance but doesn’t do so. ‘Wei Ying.’ He sounds pained.
‘Shut up.’ He doesn’t yell, but it’s not quiet either. The harshness of his voice folds Lan Zhan into himself like he’s been physically punch; Wei Wuxian regrets it. But he can’t. He can’t stand the idea of Lan Zhan saying his name like that — like it aches, like it hurts to say. He gets it from everyone else, but not Lan Zhan. Not when he knows how beautiful his name could sound from those lips, coated with care.
He catches Lan Zhan’s devastated expression before he sets off to leave. Wei Wuxian knows that the grief he saw on Lan Zhan’s face will be added to his collection of nightmares.
**
**
His flat’s quiet, different from how his heart is racing and his ears are ringing. There are messy thoughts, and brief images that passes his mind which he could not remember. And weeks ago he made a joke about being forgetful these days when Jiang Cheng scolded him for being late.
But now, he thinks it’s not his normal case of forgetfulness. Something is amiss and he should uncover the truth quickly.
His phone rings on the coffee table. He ignores it as his memory takes him back to Lan Zhan’s pained expression.
God, he’s such an asshole sometimes. Maybe he should have let Lan Zhan explain. The man has been nothing to him but nice and polite. And it might have helped him understand why there are gaps in his memories lately.
But is he ready for the revelation if he did stay and demanded answers?
There’s suddenly a loud series of knocks on the door that pulls him from his thoughts. A part of him wants it to be Lan Zhan, which is surprisingly disturbing because he doesn’t know the man, and somehow the man in question knows him, quite intimately if those glances are anything to go by.
Is he somehow attracted to problematic people after all? Did he also forget that one thing about him?
There’s another series of knocks followed by a, ‘Hey, Wei Wuxian, open up!’ It’s Jiang Cheng’s voice. Three more loud banging. ‘If you don’t open up, I’m going to break your door!’
‘A-Cheng,’ his shijie’s soft scolding passes through. ‘A-Xian, please open the door. We have something to tell you.’
Getting up from the floor takes effort, he’s not even sure how he got there. Not that he remembers making his way home from the café.
‘A-Xian,’ shijie’s relief voice welcomes him as he opens the door. She immediately pulls him close into an embrace and he can’t help but sob at her sturdy presence, both physically and metaphorically.
Wei Wuxian clings to her like she’s the last solid ground he can stand on while everything around him crumbles. He’s never felt this lost since he was five, the very earth underneath his feet swallowed up by an abyss of uncertainty and nothingness.
He can’t imagine not knowing her and Jiang Cheng. They’re the only constant in his life after his parents’ tragic death. And later on his Uncle Jiang and Madam Yu’s death. These days he can’t even remember his mother’s face, but he’s got shijie and Jiang Cheng to share stories about the sound of her laughter, her corny jokes, and her soft reminders.
Life always take and take and take from him. First his parents, and then his Uncle Jiang. And because of their way of life, coming from a lineage of cultivators, he hasn’t kept anyone close. The three of them never had. They’re the only family they have.
And if he’s forgetting, will he also start to forget shijie and Jiang Cheng? Will he forget that they’re his family? Forget that there are people waiting for him. Forget that he’s got a home now.
Forget who he is.
Forget who he is and wander back to the streets like when he was five, newly orphaned and fighting with stray dogs over scraps of food.
‘I’m forgetting.’ He sobs into her arms, as she helps him sit on the couch. ‘Important things. And people.’
‘It’s going to be okay, A-Xian,’ she assures, rubbing soothing circles on his back. She always smells like lotus flower, a comforting scent that takes him back to easier times. ‘A-Cheng and I will help you.’
‘You know?’ He looks up to her, face all wet from crying.
Shijie only nods, cupping a his face softly. ‘We’ve told you twice so far, and somehow you still forget.’
Panic rises in his throat. Twice. They’ve explained this to him twice and he doesn’t remember. He tries to search his memories for hints that at least he can recall small bits of what he’s been told before. Only to come up with nothing.
Nothing. He can’t find anything.
‘It’s just a matter of time before we fix this,’ Jiang Cheng promises through gritted teeth, hands balled in tight fists. ‘That bastard Su She managed to hide quickly after putting this curse on you.’
‘Su She?’ The name sounds familiar but he can’t remember why.
‘Yeah, that defected traitor from GusuLan Sect,’ Jiang Cheng explains. ‘Lan Xichen said they’re already looking everywhere, but that rat had planned his revenge intricately which makes it difficult to locate him.’
‘Revenge?’ This is another news to him. Well, everything is.
‘You don’t have to worry about anything, A-Xian.’ Yanli squeezes his hand. ‘We’re going to find him soon.’ Her other hand that’s cupping his face starts to wipe away his tears. ‘Lan Wangji isn’t giving up. So are we. And so should you… You have to remain calm and safe, okay? That’s what you need to do.’
‘I think you need to come back home with us,’ Jiang Cheng says, leaving no room for arguments. ‘It’ll be safer for you to be around someone else while we solve this case.’
They haven’t lived together in years, Wei Wuxian remembers. His shijie is married to Jin Zuxian, a shipping company mogul who also came from a bloodline of cultivators although their clan had focused more on business rather than the supernatural world.
Jiang Cheng on the otherhand is currently living with his fiancé’s in the Lan’s traditional home in Gusu, Lan Xichen is running their family’s ancient bookstore under Lan Qiren’s watchful supervision. Wei Wuxian dreads the idea of seeing Old Lan Qiren every day with the senior’s strict house rules.
‘Uhmm… I don’t think Lan Qiren would appreciate my presence in his home,’ he reasons out, he’s not going to admit Lan Qiren’s 3,000 house rules scare him. ‘Maybe I can stay at Huaisang’s or Wen Ning’s.’
‘It’s good that you still remember that,’ Jiang Cheng jabs. Yanli scolds him silently with her eyes. Their youngest is always the best at stabbing someone where it hurts the most. He huffs. ‘Maybe you could stay with your husband.’
‘A-Cheng,’ their sister chides.
Husband. The word sounds so foreign but also not. Wei Wuxian doesn’t understand why it feels like that despite being surprise, once again, by this new information.
‘I’m married?’ He looks from one sibling to the next. His questioning gaze lands on his shijie last because Jiang Cheng is looking away, berated and guilty. ‘I’m married,’ he repeats to himself, can’t wrap his mind around it. ‘To a guy.’
Shijie squeezes his hand with both of hers. ‘Yes. And he’s a wonderful man,’ she assures genuinely. ‘You love him. And he loves you, too. So much.’
He can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. He remembers seeing his shijie’s pain in loving the arrogant peacock when they were teens, and promising never to love someone like that, never to give someone that power to hurt him. Then, there’s that darkness that follows him around ever since he was young, taking away everyone he had ever loved. Somehow there are still days he thinks he’ll wake up with his shijie and didi gone, just like everyone else. That’s his curse, Madam Yu said so as well.
Who could have been so unfortunate as to marry someone as tainted as him? All these years, he’d kept everyone at arm’s length, afraid that they’ll get corrupted with his misfortune. But someone was idiot enough to tolerate him?
Love. Not tolerate, a part of him whispers.
‘How come I don’t remember him?’ he asks, trying to find an image memory of him dressed in red decorated in gold. He should at least remember that, right? But all he recalls is his shijie’s wedding day, even Jiang Cheng’s engagement party. ‘Why can’t I remember him?’
There’s shijie’s soft assuring squeeze again. ‘It’s the curse.’
‘What?’
‘Su She cursed you to forget Lan Wangji,’ Jiang Cheng continues, still looking away to hide his grief underneath his angry tone. ‘That bastard wanted to hurt Lan Wangji, and used you… because he knew that you’re Wangji’s breaking point.’
Wei Wuxian squeezes his eyes shut because his heart is suddenly heavy with feelings he’s afraid may spill through tears. He’s not even sure why he’s affected this much when he doesn’t even know this Lan Wangji person.
But hasn’t he dreamt of being loved like that? Selfish as it may sound. He’s never been someone’s precious person before? The kind that could break someone. And now, he realises that he’s not very fond of being someone’s breaking point.
**
**
The siblings agreed that it’ll be safer and better if Wei Wuxian stays with his husband. It may trigger back his memories as well. Not that they’re optimistic about that one since only Su She’s blood could undo the curse.
Wei Wuxian insisted on waiting for Lan Wangji alone since he doesn’t want to worry his brother and sister too much as he tries to mentally prepare himself in embracing his decision. So, he paces back and forth in his living room with no lights on as he waits for Lan Wangji to pick him up to be brought home.
Home. Wei Wuxian’s home. Or used to be, but he can’t remember. Can he still call it home, then?
He looks around at his bare flat as he paces. The emptiness should have raised his suspicion that he hasn’t lived here in a long time. But he’s been busy forgetting and night hunting, and people occupying his time as if they’re trying to rattle his memory or trying to make him forget to question the little things he found weird after waking up from his accident two months ago.
That accident wasn’t a normal accident at all.
He runs a hand through his long hair. He needs a haircut, he thinks, trying to stir his mind into mundane thoughts rather than panic about meeting his husband he has no recollection of.
Maybe he should have asked shijie or Jiang Cheng to stay. Or for them to drive him to Lan Wangji’s house.
His home.
But he’s not a child. He doesn’t need coddling. He’s known these things happen to people like them who are cultivators. And especially, to him who’s born under unfortunate stars.
He wonders what kind of person Lan Wangji is, and why he let Wei Wuxian live by himself.
Oh, god, he thinks, what if he actually secretly hates me that’s why he isn’t with me? Why he left me to fend for myself? And his shijie is wrong about Lan Wangji loving him. Even that Su She could be wrong as well and he’s not actually Lan Wangji’s weak point. And Lan Wangji is just too happy to get rid of him without the messy bits because those Lan folks are always so polite.
His pacing fastens as his thoughts goes from one negative reason to the next. No one stayed before, so why would Lan Wangji do as well? Especially now that Wei Wuxian is a mess.
The sudden door bell makes him jump, and then frozen as he stares at the door. Maybe if he doesn’t move Lan Wangji would just leave and Wei Wuxian won’t have to know if he’s abandoned again. He can pretend he wasn’t.
‘Wei Ying?’
That voice sounds familiar and safe that Wei Wuxian unconsciously takes a step towards it. Maybe it won’t be that bad to be soothed by that person, who says his name like it’s precious.
‘Wei Ying?’
He takes another step. Then another. And then another till he’s by the door.
‘Are you okay?’
He touches the door faintly, afraid that the person on the other side would feel him reaching out and leave.
‘I’ll be right here, okay?’ A pause and a soft thud. ‘Take your time.’
Unable to restrain himself from going towards this person who promised to stay, who’s patient enough to wait for him, who says his name like it’s precious, Wei Wuxian swiftly unlocks and opens the door.
‘Lan Zhan.’ This once again is news to him.
The other man’s eyes are surprised and sad, but hopeful. ‘Wei Ying.’
‘It’s you,’ he mutters with disbelief, recollecting his conversation earlier with Lan Zhan about the man’s husband, who turns out to be him.
Loving him was the best choice I’ve made…
Someone choose him. This person choose him: messy, unfortunate, loud-mouth, annoying Wei Wuxian.
I’m the lucky one… And maybe that’s the reason why this is my burden to carry.
Lan Zhan. Sweet and kind Lan Zhan felt lucky to have him. Lan Zhan doesn’t blame him for being his weak point. Lan Zhan stays despite the darkness that follows Wei Wuxian around. Lan Zhan soldiers on and stays. Lan Zhan doesn’t leave.
He reaches out, hand slightly trembling as he grasp Lan Zhan’s upper arm to assure himself that he’s not dreaming, that someone did stay.
Lan Zhan feels solid underneath his palm. Warm. Real.
‘You’re really here,’ he mutters.
‘Mn.’ Lan Zhan nods, eyes never stirring away from Wei Wuxian like he’s afraid he’ll also leave.
They must have looked sappy and idiotic.
‘But why didn’t you stay?’ he asks, remembering his confusion from before. ‘After I woke up and lost all my memory of you?’
‘I thought it would be best for Wei Ying,’ Lan Zhan explains, voice cracking just a bit. He takes Wei Wuxian’s hand from his arm with his free hand and holds it with both of his hands, putting it against his cheek. ‘I didn’t want to part from you. Ever. But… for the next few days that you can’t remember me, you hurt yourself trying to.’ He sounds so dejected. ‘You went as far as to Empathy yourself and ended up fainting.’ He squeezed his eyes shut like he’s in pain simply by remembering the memory. ‘After that you went to coma for three days, and I decided it’s not safe for you to try to remember by yourself.’
Wei Wuxian’s heart aches at the sight of Lan Zhan’s worry and sadness. Lan Zhan doesn’t deserve to hurt like this.
‘It’s easier if Wei Ying doesn’t force himself to remember me,’ he tells Wei Wuxian, both of them recollecting their interactions at the café. Is that why Lan Zhan is always present in the coffee shop, because that’s the only place he can meet Wei Wuxian? ‘Wei Ying is unharmed and happy if he doesn’t worry about the curse.’
‘But what about you?’ he can’t help but ask, cupping Lan Zhan’s face when he notices the dark circles underneath the man’s eyes. Lan Zhan immediately leans into his touch, all stiffness gone replaced by weariness and relief.
‘Wei Ying is more important,’ Lan Zhan replies, taking a step forward as if he can’t help himself but be next to Wei Wuxian. ‘As long as Wei Ying is safe and happy.’ Determination fills his gaze, but tenses once again as if he’s restraining himself. And maybe he is because his touches sound like longing.
Wei Wuxian’s going to be honest and say he’s not sure how to love someone like Lan Zhan, or how to love at all. But seeing Lan Zhan’s tender yearning makes Wei Wuxian want to learn how so he can wrap this man with everything soft he can offer that sadness will never be able to touch Lan Zhan again.
He wants to promise that everything will be okay, but he’s not sure if that is true. Nothing is sure. He’s not even sure he’s going to be okay. But he wants to be, if that will lessen Lan Zhan’s burden.
‘I don’t want you to be unhappy to make me happy,’ he tells Lan Zhan, pulling his hand from the man’s face and putting it on his shoulder. ‘We can both find common ground. Maybe I can stop trying to forcefully remember you, as long as you can take me not being able to… It’s not fair to you, I know. But please don’t send me away any more.’ He doesn’t blush as he tries to look anywhere else but Lan Zhan, who is surprise. He pulls his hand completely, feeling weird and tingly by their contact when they’ve touched more intimately a while ago. ‘I like being around you… I−I… Wha−What I meant… What I meant was that, it might be good for me to be around you. To help me remember.’
Wei Wuxian’s brave enough to peek a look at Lan Zhan’s reaction to his statement. He expects to be met with anger actually, having promised nothing but still wanting to take and take from this generous man.
A small gentle smile graces Lan Zhan’s lips, liquid gold eyes swimming with adoration and relief. ‘Wei Ying being around is enough for me.’
He can’t help but echo the smile. ‘Okay.’ Relief floods him as well. ‘I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.’
‘Forever,’ Lan Zhan confesses so genuinely it makes Wei Wuxian’s breath catch.
He wants to disperse the tightening emotion in his throat at the ardent declaration with a chuckle but all he can do is stare at this beautiful man with unwavering adoration that Wei Wuxian doesn’t feel like he deserves, but nonetheless he will try to be.
‘I hope you remember that vow when I annoy the shit out of you,’ he jokes instead because he might say something else like promise the same thing. And technically, he knows he has when they got married, but he has no memory of that. He can’t be too cruel to Lan Zhan and pledge something as heavy as forever when he doesn’t know him completely, when he doesn’t know how to love Lan Zhan like it’s the only thing in this messy world he’s certain about. He wants forever but the kind that they both agreed to and understand, the one they’ve promised together wearing red and gold surrounded by their friends and families.
Lan Zhan pulls him into a hug. ‘Is this okay?’ he asks, a hint of worry in his voice that he might be pushed away.
Wei Wuxian nods on Lan Zhan’s shoulder and wounds his arms around the man’s waist. He buries his face on Lan Zhan’s neck as he welcomes the smell of sandalwood. The scent settles him somehow, his brain whispering home.
‘As long as Wei Ying is Wei Ying, I’m always your Lan Zhan,’ he continues and melts into Wei Wuxian’s arms.
He embraces him tighter, liking the weight and warmth of Lan Zhan. ‘Lan Zhan?’
‘Mn?’
‘Why does everybody call you Lan Wangji?’
Fin.
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perfect; song mingi.
SYNOPSIS; “an au where your boyfriend happens to represent hogwarts at the triwizard tournament’s ball as one of the champions.”
part of the harry potter one shot series!
PAIRING; hufflepuff!mingi × ravenclaw!reader
GENRE; fluffy fluff!
WORD COUNT; 3.5k.
PLAYLIST; incredible, by james tw; perfect, by ed sheeran.
heavily inspired by both of these songs.
A/N; hey, peeps! i’m sorry it took long :’) i really procrastinated a lot oof. anyways, i hope that it meets your expectations! so without any further ados, let’s dive right into,,, this mess sksks
“hey—ah, oh, hey! looking goo—jesus, hi!”
he dodged the oncoming crowd of his fellow peers, his eyes desperately fixed on the staircase while his right hand fumbled around with the wristwatch on his left hand.
to say that he was nervous would have been understatement; anxious was a much better term to describe him as of this moment. if he were being honest, he wasn’t sure how to handle his anxiety, or himself, anymore—at least not without you, that is.
a few days back, on halloween, when the goblet of fire had picked him as the champion who’d represent hogwarts, he had been nothing but ecstatic! a dream come true, perhaps, the idea of representing his school in such an honourable way in the infamous triwizard tournament had always been one of his life’s aim. it was unfathomable to him how he could’ve possibly been picked, but up until now, he didn’t really have much to complain.
undoubtedly, being the first champion after the great war, there was a lot people expected from him, mainly for him to win the triwizard tournament and to make his school proud. at the very first announcement about the tournament, the headmistress had made it clear that there were about three tasks that the three champions would have to go through to win the triwizard tournament.
a massive ball as such was neither a task, nor a foreseeable event.
the event itself had been announced very hurriedly, probably because the headmistress and headmasters of the participating schools hadn’t thought much of it until minister granger had said something about it. that being said, a lot of students were as annoyed as they were eager about the whole ball. he was—unsurprisingly—one of them.
on one hand, the idea of waltzing around on a dance floor with you sounded something straight out of his dreams; on the other, his school was counting on him to make an impression on not only his peers, but the visiting schools as well.
the pressure on him was immense and his only remedy, his only cure, was you, who still wasn’t by his side as he nervously waited for you to arrive.
he kept glanced towards the great hall’s entrance habitually, freaking out inwardly when he noticed the other champions line up already. although tonight was going to be incredible, he wished for it all come to an end already. a crowded room, all eyes on him… that wasn’t exactly how he planned on spending his last christmas at hogwarts. heck, he was sure you didn’t too, ri—
“SONG MINGI!”
his thoughts were cut short when he heard your loud, yet sweet, call for him, his eyes fixed on your silhouette for quite a while now, but it was only after your call that he really took in your beautiful appearance.
“____…” he breathed out, relief flooding him the moment he saw that beautiful smile plastered on your face. there you stood, his remedy, wearing your pretty smile with a beautiful dress draped upon your body. it hugged your body in just the right places. your hair was neatly tucked behind your ear, yet it rested almost messily upon your shoulders, as if you had been playing with it.
“good heavens..” you whispered to yourself, taking one step at a time to not trip over either your dress, your heels, or your boyfriend’s breathtakingly beautiful appearance. he wore a dark blue tuxedo with a white shirt underneath, the shirt’s first button undone. his brown hair was styled back neatly, yet as you got closer to him, you could see that he had been running his fingers though it. it gave his hair a messy look, one that could only be seen upon a closer inspection.
he noticed your eyes widen and jaw drop when you checked him out, a small smile playing on his lips.
“take a picture, love. it’ll last longer.” he teased, nervously reaching for your right hand to intertwine your fingers together, to hold it firmly in his left.
“you.. you look.. stunning, mingi.” you whispered, stumbling upon your words as you took no notice of his subtle teasing or nerves. a moment of eyeing the boy in front of you later, you finally glanced up to meet his warm, loving eyes. something about that look on your face, that love in your eyes, made his heart pick up its pace ever so slightly. your smile, as usual, did things to him.
“says you.” he playfully rolled his eyes, clearing his throat to snap himself out of his daze, one that you seemed to put him in every time he laid his eyes on you.
tonight was different, however. it wasn’t just him who couldn’t keep his eyes off you, but everyone around you had their eyes on you both (and he was sure that it definitely wasn’t because of him, for once). so beautiful you looked tonight that the enchanting starry night seemed to be shying away from you, nervous that there was a star like yourself that shone so brightly on earth.
“i’m speechless, really.. you look.. magnificent…” he admitted, his smile still faint, yet his eyes as loving as always. he opened his mouth to say something, probably compliment you more, but before he was able do so, headmistress mcgonagall cut in. she appeared to be hasty.
“mr. song, ms. (last name), the event is about to start. i’m afraid i’d have to cut you both off.” her lips curved into the slightest of smile. she appeared to be proud of you both.
“lead us in there now, won’t you?” she motioned over to the two champions, who awaited mingi’s and yours arrival in front of them.
théo autry, the beauxbaton’s champion and the first runner up of the tasks as of now, stood at the very front with his date, rebecca payne, by his side. behind him, the durmstrang’s champion—or the second runner up—rosa petrich and her date, jacques sabo, awaited the the first task’s winner’s arrival.
“come on.” mingi tugged you over, his thumb caressing the back of your hand to calm both of your nerves down.
as the tradition went, the champions must dance with their dates to start the event. the six of you had already been informed, but the information hadn’t flustered the other champions, but that was just an assumption you had made on their calm and composed selves.
the two of you stood at the very front, but professor potter was leading the three champions inside. you stood right behind him, but in front of the other champions.
“just hold my hand; we’d be fine.” you mumbled quietly to the boy at your side, glancing towards him to flash him a loving smile. his body was tensed, but his grip seemed to loosen up a little upon hearing your words. he merely nodded.
you took in a deep breath of anticipation as professor potter swung the doors to the great hall open.
the hallway had been crammed, but the inside of the great hall was nothing compared to the outside. crowds of students from all three schools stood around the much smaller dance floor, their eyes fixed on the entrance to get a glimpse of the champions. for what? you weren’t sure.
the inside, as compared to the outside, was much more delicately decorated, the magical sky above your head much more brighter and illuminated than the usual nights. the moon was bright and there were far more stars, probably even more than the night sky outside. the chandelier was lit up—the first time either of you had seen it such way—and it was the only source of the light, it seemed. nonetheless, the room was brightly lit with only the corners being a little dull.
at the very middle, where the house tables usually were, was the dance floor, just an opening, if you were being honest. the area where the teacher’s ate was the stage as apparent by the instruments and the speakers placed on the slightly elevated ground. you noticed that at the very left and the very right of the hall were the snacks and a few tables with chairs, where it seemed that those who got bored, tired, or hungry could relax in peace.
however, by judging the number of students, you doubted that anyone could actually relax (or eat) in peace. there were far too many people inside the great hall, but you couldn’t possibly blame them. who wouldn’t be excited for their first ball!?
you seemed to (nervously) scan the area again, impressed by the intricate details that seemed to have went into this event.
mingi, soon, started to lead you to the very middle of the dance floor as théo and rosa took their places right next to the two of you—with a little distance in between, of course. the whole hall was quiet, anticipating the start of the event. all eyes were on the champions and the headmistress of the hosting school, aka hogwarts.
“music!” mcgonagall announced once everyone was inside, the music replacing the silence in almost an instant.
“you’re wearing that dress i like, those heels make you six feet high...”
“is that a muggle song?” you asked your boyfriend, baffled. upon seeing his fond smile, you couldn’t help but to feel a little flabbergasted. of course it was, why wouldn’t it be? muggles wrote amazing love songs, you had to admit.
mingi let go of your hand momentarily to bow towards you as you, still slightly flustered, did the same.
prior to the ball, all of the houses (and schools) had received dance lessons from their respective heads. you, being a ravenclaw, were unfortunate enough to have professor flitwick as your “dance teacher”. none of you learned anything, if it wasn’t obvious already. that poor fella couldn’t dance for crap, that was for sure.
mingi, on the other hand, had professor abbott as the hufflepuff’s head. she was young, fun, and pretty much perfect to teach anyone how to dance. in the end, you and mingi had asked for her help (neither of you wanted to embarrass the other one, at the dance, at least not like this).
standing upright, mingi held his hand out for you, which you ever so gracefully grabbed a hold of. it didn’t take you long to intertwine both of your fingers. his other, much larger, hand rested on your hips while you grabbed a hold of his shoulder with your free hand. he pulled you closer so your bodies were almost pressing together; your eyes were locked in his. the two of you were lost in your own little world already.
“suddenly the room grows quiet, i’m lost in your eyes; feels like we’re all alone as the lights go on..”
his fond smile didn’t leave his features, however he soon started to sing along the song ever so quietly.
“my love, i just wanna say…” he sang almost inaudibly when the line came, swaying along the rhythm with your body in his arms.
your heart picked up its pace and your lightly flushed cheeks turned a brighter shade of red. you could hear him, but you doubted that anybody else could, too. he was quiet, yet loud enough for you.
“that you look incredible tonight.” he stopped singing, his eyes darting between your alluring ones to your lips. just a few minutes ago, he had been freaking out over this, but as the two of your waltz around the room, lost in your own world, he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that this was the “task” that he had feared the most. you, his remedy, seemed to help him forget all about his problems; you replaced his pain with love and care—just how you always did.
the song kept playing, second verse getting replaced by the prechorus and then the chorus again.
“my love, nothing can break these arms..” this time around, you mouthed the words. you knew your voice would break if you were to actually say anything.
the two of you were so immersed in your own little world, in this moment, that by the looks of it, you both probably didn’t notice all the others join you on the dance floor with their dates—those who wanted to join, that is.
“in your embrace.” you beamed up to him, ready to mouth the next bit when the song came to a sudden halt and got replaced by another sickeningly sweet muggle song.
you gasped in surprise.
“earth to, ____.” mingi chuckled quietly, more relieved than he had been when he saw you earlier. the song change was enough to snap you both out of your shared daze.
“i—earth to, mingi.” you mocked your boyfriend, emphasizing what he had said earlier as you shoved him away carefully. you turned on your heels to leave the dance floor, uninterested in dancing now that your moment was ruined.
“come on, now.” he wiggled your fingers, your hand held out for him to hold.
he walked beside you, intertwining your fingers together and giving your hand a firm squeeze as the two of you made your way over to the left side of the room for some snacks.
“it’s.. suffocating in here, don’t you think?” you asked him not even a second later, flashing polite smiles and nods to those who made eye contact with you. the whole area was definitely packing, as you had been suspicious of earlier, and it definitely didn’t shock you anymore. the great hall seemed to get smaller and smaller…
“we can always head out.” mingi suggested, unknowingly snapping you out of your daze again. he kept eyeing the already crowded snacks table.
some other time, he assured himself disappointedly. it obviously kept getting refilled, but the two of you could get snacks some other time, probably when the hall wasn’t as packed as it was right now.
“fresh air sound good, min.” you agreed when you turned your gaze to look at what he was looking, your appetit lost at the sight of people around the table(s). who knew that such a magical night, magical moment, could get ruined because of people?
wait, maybe you guys definitely did.
disgruntled and with his grip on your hands firm, he started to drag you over to the stage, which was the only place that wasn’t crowded. it wasn’t supposed to be such way for obvious reasons.
“where are we going?” dumbfounded, you questioned the eager boy in front of you. he seemed to be dragging you over to the side door, which led to the teacher’s lounge, if you were right.
he didn’t answer, instead he kept dragging you towards the door. there was no point in asking or answering, you figured after a while; he probably wouldn’t have heard you over the loud speakers anyway.
relief washed over you as soon as you both walked out the door and when you slammed it shut behind you, your ears ringing even after the magical walls somewhat contained the music inside.
“woah, wait..” you paused when you laid your eyes on what it was that was in front of you. “isn’t that the garden where we learned how to ride our broomsticks?” you questioned as your eyes darted between the two new doors in front of you. the door on the left was closed, while the one on the right wasn’t. you could easily gaze out to the garden from the door on the right side, so you could only assume that the door on the left led to the teacher’s lounge.
“mhm.” mingi hummed as an answer, letting go of your hand to walk out into garden for some fresh air.
you waddled behind him timidly as you took in the nostalgic scenery. it had been years since you had last visited the garden to actually relax. it was usually just used as a shortcut to either hagrid’s or professor longbottom’s class.
you stopped halfway, around the doorway, while still peering into the garden. a few candles danced around in the air as the moonlight lit up the garden. comparatively, the garden was much more duller, more darker than the great hall, but it was beautiful nonetheless.
faraway in the east as you gazed, you took notice of how brightly hagrid’s hut and the trees on the edge of the forbidden forest were lit. the hut and the trees were covered in fairy lights, those beautiful kind that you could only find in the wizard world.
you heaved out a soft sigh of content and pulled your eyes away from the sceneric view, only for your eyes to fall upon someone far more breathtaking, more euphoric than the night itself.
“what are you doing there, ____? come here and join me!” mingi exclaimed as he held his hand out for you, waiting for you to join him in the grass. it was only then that you realized that your boyfriend was standing in the grass, barefeet and his tuxedo’s jacket missing. he had his sleeves rolled up and the first two buttons of his shirt were undone now.
“join.. you..?” you questioned again, your brain lagging due to his appearance once again.
“you don’t want to..?” he almost teasingly raised a brow, a goofy grin tugging on his lips. how was it that everything about him was still as refreshing as it had been when you had first met him?
“why would i not?” you rolled your eyes playfully as you bit back your smile. it didn’t take you long to follow the brick pathway, careful enough of your heels as to not fall onto your face or butt. once you stood in front of him, he was quick to grab a hold of your hand. you staggered, but he—once again—was quick enough to wrap his free arm around your waist, sheepishly pecking the top of your head.
“sorry..” he apologized, pulling away from your smaller frame. you assured him with a gentle squeeze to his hand.
just as he was about to pull away again, you tugged him closer to you. he was the one who stumbled, but it didn’t take him long to regain his balance. he looked at you, confused.
“my shoes, you idiot. i need to take them off, don’t i.” you explained, swaying around to get rid of your shoes. once you were done, you neatly placed them right next to mingi’s stuff. by the time you were done, you could clearly hear that they were playing another song—one that mingi and you were quite too familiar with…
“is that ‘perfect’..?” you furrowed your brows, ear perking up as if to catch the beat, the rhythm, of the song.
your song. they were playing your song.
not every couple necessarily had a song, but mingi and you did. one of your muggleborn friends, samantha, had sang the song for you when it came out. you both liked it so much that soon enough, you had to listen to the studio version as well. needless to say, you both were quite fond of the song and the two of you could easily recognise it under any circumstances.
mingi, once again, didn’t bother to reply. instead he turned around to playfully sing along with the song that faintly played in the background. the lyrics didn’t really match the beat at first, but soon enough you both got used to the offbeat.
“darling, just kiss me slow~” mingi pulled you closer to him, the two of you now standing on the grass, barefeet. before he could start swaying around with you, you leaned in to peck his lips, catching him off guard. his cheeks turned a light shade of pink; you couldn’t help, but to laugh.
“baby, i’m dancing in the dark..” he was finally able to catch the rhythm.
he pulled his hand away from yours before wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you so much closer than earlier. you placed your hands on his chest to steady yourself, surprised by his actions. just as you looked up to question him, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours as his cool minty breath hit your lips. you grew a little more flustered.
“with you between my arms.” you sang ever so quietly, clutching his shirt gently as your eyes fluttered close. you guys were going to sing, right..?
you bit your lower lip, wanting to lean in to kiss him right then and there, but you knew he’d do it soon; you knew he had something to say even now—maybe the lyrics, you assumed. still, you tilted your head, feeling his heart race when you accidentally brushed your soft, plump lips against his (again). it went without saying that your heart was pounding against your chest, too. you smiled so fondly and shyly at this.
“i know that they’re all.. they’re all probably still awestruck by your beauty. you do look perfect tonight, honey..” your cheeks started to turn red again as you pulled him closer to your body.
“but remind me again, darling… when do you not?” he leaned in to close the gap before you could answer, his kiss leaving you lightheaded. in this very moment, you were nothing, but grateful for the boy who held you in his arms so dearly.
and just like that.. all was well.
#anextremelytinything#ateez#kpop#kpop fanfic#kpop scenarios#kpop au#kpop one shot#kpop imagines#ateez fanfic#ateez scenarios#ateez au#ateez one shot#ateez imagines#harry potter au#harry potter#ateez mingi#mingi ateez#song mingi#mingi au#mingi scenarios#soft mingi#mingi oneshot#song mingi ateez#mingi#ateez song mingi
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Out of the Sky
Word Count: 2.1k Warnings: Profanity Genre: Fluff, light angst (we’ll see) | Guardian Angel!Namjoon
Summary: How your adorable, clumsy guardian angel still manages to save your life is beyond you.
A/N: This was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but I hate going so long without giving you guys something. So, it will be a mini series. Tbh, I’ll likely change the name of this once its finished.
Masterlist
There was a lipstick smudge on your chin that you just couldn’t seem to correct in the amount of time you did not have to do so; the bright pink smudge was the aftermath of that sandwich you didn’t think to eat before doing your makeup. Your friends would be here any moment and you were in desperate need of just starting over.
You felt a little stressed, if not downright defeated, at the failure of your looks tonight. The outfit you picked out last night—which was SO cute—no longer looked flattering anymore. But now, as you stared at your reflection, your usually cute fashion sense seemed to be as bland as ever.
Sighing, you leaned into the mirror a little closer and took the pad of your finger to smudge off the pink blotch. The lipstick was removed alright, along with the rest of the makeup in that area. There was, unfortunately, no time to completely fix your chin area. So, you blended in some foundation and called it good.
At least your hair looked nice.
Right?
The beginning of doubt creeping into your head was shaken by the alert of your phone, which you presumed signaled the arrival of your friends. Instead of fussing, you straightened yourself out and decided that it would be okay to not be perfectly primped tonight.
You would not be the center of attention tonight, anyway.
With the ping of your phone echoing in your head, you left your bathroom and scurried down the hall. Yuki wanted to go out on the town tonight, so your best bet was anything other than heels. She could run a marathon in them, but not you.
Your purse’s contents were laying haphazardly on the entryway table with your keys in one bowl, wallet in another, and other things in the drawers. And, of course, your purse had fallen and had been kicked under the table. It was a wonder how you ever managed to find anything.
I’ll clean this in the morning, you thought as you rushed out the door.
The sandals you decided to wear slapped across the hard floor as you powerwalked towards the elevators. Your apartment itself was small and a sight for sore eyes, but the complex itself? Every time you left and came home you were reminded why it was literally the cheapest place in the city.
The entrance of the building swung open and you were met with a much warmer night than you were expecting. It was early fall, but it felt like a midsummer evening instead. The weather, although odd, helped to lift your spirits ever so slightly.
All day you had been tripping up. As if life itself was nipping at your heels everywhere you went. It was the can of soup you dropped at the store this evening, or the pen that you just bought yesterday running out of ink this morning.
Even when you accidentally knocked over the trash in your kitchen it felt worse than it actually was. The mundane things of life just felt like they had a twist today.
Your phone had not dinged in the last few moments while you were leaving your home, so, you thought it best to actually check your texts.
The space between your brows creased as you furrowed them at the message on your screen:
Yuki 5 minutes ago: Were runming a lol late, sryy Y/N!
You huffed in annoyance at her lack of time management. Turning off the phone screen, you sat on the concrete steps. It was better to sit out here, you decided briefly, than to anxiously wait around in your apartment where you would surely continue nitpicking your looks for the evening.
The sun was almost done setting; the last sliver of the peachy glow barely reached the sides of the surrounding buildings. The warmth no longer stretched across the city but, instead, the cool, collected solace of the night was beginning to take place.
You sighed dreamily. Nighttime was always the hour in which you felt most comfortable, almost as if all your insecurities were masked in the darkness. The night was mysterious, enchanting, even sublime—
The screeching of tires could be heard in the distance, and you lazily looked up to see a car coming. It was still a couple miles back on the flat stretch of road, but no one would be driving at this hour except idiots and… your friends.
Adjusting your purse strap against your shoulder, you stood from the steps and began making your way down the sidewalk towards the edge of the road. The wind had been still when you first walked outside, but now it was picking up around you.
It was heavy enough to the point it made your hair whip around; your lipstick likely hadn’t fully dried and you couldn’t see through your own hair. So now you were standing there like a blind idiot with, again, sloppy lipstick.
In the midst of your delirium, you managed to notice the ground below you was rumbling ever so slightly. The uncanny situation made panic crawl up your spine and you took a couple steps back as you finished fighting with your hair.
As you looked up, the sight, and crack, of the nearby tree barreling straight towards you forced your feet to haul yourself backwards. You hit the edge of the sidewalk and tumbled ass first into the grass.
The crash of the tree was deafening as it knocked out a couple mailboxes and disturbed trashcans set out for pick up.
Your knees threatened to buckle underneath you as you stood up, heart pounding and confused. A faint shimmer could be seen in the foliage of the fallen tree, and your hand flew to your head to confirm you had hit your head.
Standing in horror as you watched the rustling of the tree, you prayed for your friends to arrive already so that they could get you admitted.
The light you think you’re seeing is only a side effect of disorientation and streetlights. Only, you heard the sound of a man groaning at a distance. This caused you to brace yourself at the arrival of another person.
But the person that you saw wasn’t who you were expecting.
It wasn’t a neighbor in the complex, nor some random person strolling the streets at night that you heard. No, out of the shimmering foliage rose a man so beautiful you thought you were seeing God.
He looked hurt, you assumed, from the way he was hunching over with his head down. Coughing, he stood up. You stood mesmerized as he shook out his shoulders, trails of golden dust falling from them as he did so. He rolled his head around, stretching out his neck until he noticed you were standing there. Staring.
Once he had caught sight of you, he turned fully towards you and smiled brightly. It was a terrifying sight, almost, to see a man so beautiful looking at you the way he was.
The fear was different than you had ever known, not fear for your safety. No, you weren’t afraid that you would be harmed. Instead you feared what you did not know.
Oh, but how you wanted to know.
“Are you Y/N?”
He was calm, professional, as if you were talking to a businessman. Not an angel.
Your mouth was left agape as you stood there in the night air with him. Surely you looked like a suffocating goldfish as it opened and closed without words, but still. You were in awe.
He apparently took that as a yes because he stepped forward through the foliage, hand outstretched.
“My name is Namjoon, your guardian angel.”
“What?” You lifted a trembling hand to your forehead, checking for any sign of a fever. “Ha… haha…” Maniacal laughs stumbled from your lips as you shook your head in disbelief. “I’ve finally lost my fucking mind.”
The man, “Namjoon,” stood there and watched your insanity with curiosity.
“Holy shit,” you wiped wetness from your eyes, “that’s rich, mister “guardian angel,” You added air quotes for mocking affect. “You did some shit guarding, then. I almost fucking died!”
Your mocking turned into screeching once you realized this psychopath was being as serious as could be. Surprisingly, no one from your apartments had come out to investigate the loud crash. Instead, the ruined tree laid silent in front of you.
He simply shrugged. “I’ll admit I cut it a little too close just now but…”
“But what?” You cute him off, “I’m supposed to be going out tonight and your psycho ass nearly killed me. Look, my friends are here now.”
Either your friends were driving really slow, or the incident with the “guardian angel” took much less time than you thought it would. Ignoring burning annoyance in your chest, you took off once again down the sidewalk leading from your apartment’s entryway.
You heard a tsking noise behind you.
“What do you want?” You gritted.
“Three more steps and that car is gonna get you.”
You rolled your eyes and began to turn as you heard the sound of the approaching vehicle. Desperation bubbled inside of you with the chance to get away from whatever it is that is going on here.
But before you could inch any further up the sidewalk, bright lights blinded you. The headlights came from your right with only enough time to throw your hand in front of your face before you were promptly getting pulled back.
The headlights belonged to a car that was certainly not being driven by your friends. This was obvious not only in the car itself, but also in the way that it jumped the curb and took out a couple of the trashcans.
Garbage laid splattered right in front of you; the knowledge that it very well could be you spilled out right there was enough to have your dinner threatening to leave your stomach.
“Oh, please don’t puke on me,” Namjoon whined.
It was only then that you registered that his hand was still firmly wrapped around your wrist; he had not let go since jerking you back from the sidewalk. The adrenaline was crawling up your throat and the events that just occurred only helped to confirm what the crazy man had been telling you earlier.
Your free hand flew to your mouth as your racing heart caused your emotions to rush out. “Oh, my g-g-god!”
Tears clouded your vision as your words got caught in your throat.
“H-how did you k-know th-that that was going to h-happen?”
He chuckled, but it didn’t seem as though he was laughing at you.
Honestly, you were still so scared right at that moment. It was two near death experiences back to back in the presence of some otherworldy man and it was almost too much to bear.
When you blinked away the tears that had no doubt ruined your makeup, you realized his eyes were so… sad?
Namjoon was no longer shining so brightly, instead it was a warm, soft glow radiating around him. It was only now that you realized his large, feathery wings were drooping.
He let go of your wrist and backed away.
“Y/N, please don’t be scared of me. You’re not scared of me, right?” His voice was low, yet brimming with panic.
You weren’t sure how to answer. One part of your mind was screaming to get away from the unknown entity. The other was nudging you to be curious, to find out more.
Luckily, the sound of your phone dinging distracted you from giving him an immediate reply. You were still trembling slightly, as was made obvious by your lit up phone screen shaking in the dark.
Yuki: this is Anna, we’re gonna have to cancel plans Yuki pre-gamed too hard. Shes sick, next Friday sound good?
A bitter sneer came from your mouth and it didn’t take long before you were shoving your phone in your pocket and looking up towards Namjoon again. Yuki’s lack of proper spelling made sense now.
“You’re not real,” you decided on. “I can’t be afraid of what’s not real. Goodnight.”
You muttered the farewell to yourself and ignored the exasperated sigh coming from the not-actually-real being behind you.
#networkbangtan#bangtan bookclub#btsguild#kpopwonderland tag#Kim Namjoon fics#kim namjoon#series#kim namjoon au#kim namjoon fluff#kim namjoon angst#bts rm
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Los miserables, 1971 – “Holy Hugo, they included ‘insert rare scene here’!”
Wrote this a while ago and realised I never posted it. So here goes.
Do you have a favourite obscure scene or detail in Les misérables that hardly ever makes the cut in screen adaptations? If you do, this might just be the adaptation for you. If you want to see an adaptation that tells the story well, however, this is not for you.
It's a nineteen-part (coincidence? I think not...) TV adaptation by the Spanish channel RTVE within its show “Novela”, a show of multiple literature adaptations that ran for fifteen years in total!
And the best part: You can see it all online on RTVE's webpage: http://www.rtve.es/alacarta/videos/los-miserables/
You can skip all episodes with mod 5 = 1 (except the first one), those are the episodes originally shown on Mondays, recapping what happened last week.
Like the Italian TV adaptation, this is unfortunately hindered by its budget. Unlike the Italian TV adaptation, this has the additional problem of its screenwriter's frankly bizarre understanding of concepts such as “pacing” and “importance”.
Now, don't get me wrong, I think it's rather cool to have an adaptation that includes many of the more obscure scenes, but I know the book and I know the context for all of these. I think asking how much sense the plot actually makes to someone who only knows this adaptation is a legitimate question.
Time is “wasted” on montages, dream-sequences and scenes of characters tossing and turning in bed, all of them many times longer than they have any right to be. Partially, it feels like the screenwriter couldn't decide which plot details to include and then just tried to incorporate as many of them as possible – continuity be damned. As an example, he took the time to include Mabeuf's death at the barricade, but it doesn't mean anything, since it happens to a character we have never seen before. Because Mabeuf's entire background is missing. To top it off, the watching students call him “le conventionel”, probably just to tick another box on the check list. To get another time saver, “show, don't tell” is occasionally blatantly violated. We get Valjean's entire history from him telling his life story to the bishop. The backstory of Marius and Gillenormand is conveyed in their fight before Marius leaves, meaning all the info is solely for the benefit of the audience, because all characters involved already know this stuff. Yet, bizarrely, they occasionally have time for a “show” where none would have been necessary. We get a far too long montage of Fantine with Cosette in Paris, that includes Fantine getting fired from her old job. Honestly, you can cover the question of why Fantine leaves Paris with a single line – you know, like it's done in the original?
I wouldn't usually mind, but it not only messes up the pacing, but it also takes up time that could have been used to flesh out some of the details. Or even some of the main plot points. We have Marius letting Thénardier go at the end, but Marius doesn't owe him a debt in this one. It might have made the Gorbeau robbery easier, but at the end, Marius has no real reason to not call the police. That is, if Thénardier is even a prison escapee. It's never shown nor mentioned how he got out of prison after the Gorbeau house robbery. On a smaller scale, it leads to a few bizarre moments, where introductions or transitions are missing, as if someone was trying to cut the corners wherever possible. For example, one episode starts with Marius' and Gillenormand's fight, without any introduction to their conflict or any real introduction of the characters (apart from Marius being the cute boy from the park). Or take the Champmathieu trial. The prosecutor asks for the witnesses to be heard and the very next moment, the judge is already questioning Brevet. No scene of the witnesses entering the room or at least the camera pointing out that they've been there all the time (because I definitely missed that in the overhead shots of the fairly small courtroom set); no scene of the judge calling the first witness, which becomes even worse when he does it to every subsequent witness.
Between this kind of overly short editing and long, drawn-out scenes of Marius healing (which commits the additional cardinal sin of making us think that it's finally over with a short conversation, only to continue for another minute or so) or of Fantine tossing on her bed (which we only later realise is prossibly Cosette's birth!), it feels a bit like there were too many people involved and no two of them could disagree over the tone and style of this adaptation.
I have another, if slightly petty, complaint: Why do the opening credits contain pictures of scenes we never get to see? It makes it pretty hard to identify which actor played which character and it also made it look they would include scenes that end up not being there. From the credits, you could be forgiven for thinking that there are scenes in Toulon, that Valjean's sister shows up or that they include the scene where Éponine stops Patron-Minette from robbing the house in the Rue Plumet. None of these actually happen.
Just to finish my list of complaints about this adaptation, let me talk about Javert. Now, I like the basic idea of what they did with the character, if only because it is the opposite to what most other adaptations do. In many adaptations, Javert is portrayed as a far more villainous character than in the book. These guys went the opposite way. Javert is calm and polite most of the time (making his one outburst when he arrests Valjean even more meaningful) and in one scene seems concerned about Fantine's safety (while she's still employed at Madeleine's factory that is), when he meets her in a disreputable part of town after dark and insists on accompanying her to her destination. Yes, it's later made clear that he still uses this to find out what she was doing there in the first place and this is what kicks off the chain of events leading to Mme Victurnien finding out about Cosette, but the two scenes taken together imply that Javert is both caring about the safety of an innocent civilian and spying on said civilian, just in case they're not as innocent as they seem to be. If they had done it like this throughout the movie I wouldn't be complaining.
Yet, it also means they had Javert come up to Madeleine, stating that he is happy to be the first to congratulate him about his appointment as mayor. It makes Javert's later resentment of Madeleine seem quite petty. Or the end of the “Confrontation”, where Javert, rather than leading Valjean out of the room, just makes a hand gesture to ask him to step out. Which again could have worked, but then he would have had to stay polite for all of the scene. Which he didn’t. They also decided not to stick to it for the entirety of the series. The portrayal of Javert in the later parts is more “traditional”, so to speak.
The acting is solid, for the most part, but hardly ever outstanding, although I’m likely not the best judge. Valjean's acting is fairly, occasionally too, subtle and he's a bit too calm for my taste in his entire encounter with the bishop. The actor, Pepe Calvo, is better known for his work in spaghetti western movies and I've by now realised that the reason he seemed familiar to me from the beginning is because of the western “Dead Men Ride” which I saw as a child, in which he plays a Myriel-like character of all things. I've described my thoughts on Javert, but I think that is due to decisions by the director and the scriptwriter, not the actor. Fantine has an annoying tendency to overact, especially in the later parts of her appearance. Cosette, fortunately not played by the same actress, is a bit boring. Little Cosette, however, does outstanding work for a child actress. Both Thénardiers are decent; they went the “Mme Thénardier needs to look sufficiently trustworthy for Fantine to leave her child with her”-route and she doesn't quite manage to be as scary as she should be. Everybody else is rather unremarkable.
Oh, and while we're at it: If you cast as Cosette an actress who actually looks like a teenager and as Marius an actor who might be in his early thirties, you need to specify that Marius is only a few years older than Cosette. Please!
But now to what I like about this adaptation: It's occasionally insane attention to details.
I've complained about the over-abundance of dream-sequences, but some of them really work. Showing one of Cosette's daydreams explains her life, character and dreams much better than any number of “real” scenes could have. Even more awesome is the inclusion of Valjean's dream before the Champmathieu trial. I mean, “Tempête sous un crâne” is usually going to be a weird scene anyway, you might just replace it with a weird dream while you're at it. Also, holy shit, they included Valjean's dream! That's a definite first.
Here's a list of further uncommon scenes this movie has: -Valjean steals Petit-Gervais's coin, although he does it before meeting the bishop -The bishop gets some exposition. It's only done in two conversations with his sister and Mme Magloire, but it's there -The scene of Tholomyès and Co. dumping the girls -A meeting of the Amis verbatim from the book -Gillenormand believes Marius to be dead and faints when Marius opens his eyes.
And here's a list of crazily uncommon scenes this movie has: -Fantine's meeting with the Thénardiers includes the girls using a cart chain as a swing -Details about work in the jet factory -Fantine thinks she hears Cosette outside the hospital -Cosette lying about watering the guest's horse -The coffin-escape! In full, glorious length and details. -Javert has a letter from the prefect in his pocket -Marius' note to identify his corpse -Escaping from the barricade in National Guard uniforms (although Valjean doesn't put in the one he is currently wearing) -Valjean writes the letter explaining to Cosette the origins of his fortune
Also, the ending is really well done. I really recommend you watch it for yourself, I don't think describing it can do it justice.
Generally, avoid this for a first look at Les Mis, but for a fan this is an interesting adaptation to watch and I suggest you give at least some parts a look, if only for the novelty.
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So, given that Fyodor and the Hunting Dogs are more-or-less being the closest, most imminent threat in BSD, does that leave Agatha as the Final Boss? So far, Fyodor's plans have only exempt her organization, wherein every other group is manipulated to some level.
Hello! Sorry for the late reply, I'm very happy for your ask 😁 I warn you, though, I'm not capable of writing a short reply to save my life ahahah. But, as they say in my country "Warned person half saved person"
So, ready to go.
Well, it is a complex situation. Now, the agency's problems seem to be Dostoevskij (and so, the group DotA) and the Government's military of the Hunting Dogs (whose utility I've still many doubts about). But the latter's actions almost certainly are manipulated by Dostoevskij, even if they probably don't know it. They did create problems in Sigma's casino to capture Atsushi and the others, after all, although Sigma is a member of the Decay of the Angels like Fyodor and Gogol. Gogol who recently infiltrated as a spy in the Government's ministry of justice for six months before he revealed himself and did... well, whatever it was the sense of what he did. And absolutely a coincidence, what is the military organization working for the ministry of justice?
Correct, the Hunting Dogs.
So, they are really convinced that capture our protagonists is a just service to the state, but they're playing Fyodor's game. But only his game?
What's the situation? Well, the players on the chessboard are the Agency & the Port Mafia vs the Decay of the Angels. In the middle, there is the ex Guild and Oguri allied with the first party and the Hunting Dogs maneuvered by the latter. And, aside, there is Agatha,who in chapter 12 is seen to be allied with Fitzgerald and Dostoevskij (although their idea of "alliance" is veeery singular, if Fitzgerald's defeat is to say something).
Fitzgerald is betrayed, defeated and definitely out of the alliance, so there remain only Fyodor and Agatha. She seems to not even be present, though. There is really not even a single mention of her in the manga since then, excluding her short appearance in Dead Apple movie, differently from the almost omnipresent Fyodor. Thanks to the movie, we learn that she is in contact with Ango (so Japanese government) who asks for her aid, that of a foreign government association of ability users, to terminate Shibusawa, former ability user protected by Ango himself and then, coincidence, manipulated by Dostoevskij. Situation she was surely well informed about when she accepted (I bet my head) and disappointed when her slightly extreme solution wasn't needed anymore. A solution that could have burned the entire Yokohama to the ground (and maybe even Fyodor himself who was there, too). They were already allied at that point? Yes.
Anyway, wonders of friendship aside, this disappearance is like if Agatha didn't want anyone to know her involvement in the war, maybe in order to have both the alliance with Japanese government and with Fyodor's group to exploit as she sees better fit in the moment. But both Fitzgerald, Mori and Dazai, we absolutely know it, they are aware of her. Anyone else? Idk, sorry, probably not. So...
Will she return? Absolutely
Will she be the final boss? Not sure, probably, but it doesn't convince me.
Not like she's not credible enough to be one, nay, she would be a wonderful final boss to face, but I think it would be too simple this way, too linear for my taste, at least. Why?
As you said, the only organization Fyodor, the current villain, didn't mess with is hers, The Knights of the Clock Tower. And technically, they are still allied, at least for what we know. Both are in search of the Book, "a single novel where everything written becomes the truth". Dostoevskij to exterminate the ability users from earth's face and Agatha ... Boh, nobody knows. By the way, until now, the enemies are come in a linear order: Port Mafia -> Guild -> Dostoevskij (+ Oguri, then Decay of the Angels and Hunting Dogs). Defeated one, another comes (and the defeated one becomes an ally for the protagonists). This scheme has almost no exception until now. And it's boring. We are currently blocked in the last stage of the sequence. So, the problem is still them: Fyodor and Agatha. And this damned book.
To obtain it, we know that are needed: the death of every ability users in Yokohama, Dazai in a way or another, Atsushi's ability. Dazai and Natsume sensei are the ones that know the Book most than the anyone else, probably even its location. Fyodor has done many attempts to obtain it (Shibusawa, the fall of the Guild's aircraft, Pushkin's poisonous ability and the assassin Hawthorne, Oguri's crimes-proof masking ability, Gogol in the Government and finally the Hunting Dogs). To say that he's obsessed with it would be an understatement. But for a so mind-set man, he seems not to care when his attempts are inevitably neutralized. He seems to be even fine with it, as long as he finds it entertaining. He even indirectly gave Dazai the key to his own "failure" in some occasions. And then, he was always like "beh, it was amusing, now we can get to the next step". It is an incoherent behavior for a man regarded as the epitome of logic by both Dazai and Ranpo (and it is surely to say something). We could understand it if we ask if they can really be called failures. And if he's really working for himself.
He's presented to us as a really unbeatable enemy since the beginning. Always. Even Dazai and Ranpo, even Natsume, even Fitzgerald admit that his strategies cannot possibly be defeated or avoided. And indeed he is a step ahead of the others. But for all his capacity, he's behaving like he has all the time in the world to fulfill his goal, not really caring about 1 or 100 failed plans; he knows Dazai and Atsushi are necessary for the Book? Intentionally not kills the former (his nemesis and the main threatening enemy he has) and never makes a serious effort to obtain Atsushi's ability (Shibusawa failed and Gogol only played with him, maybe the Hunting Dogs alone are seriously trying). Then, there is the Decay group. We know that it consists of 5 members (Dostoevskij, Gogol and Sigma, plus the others unfortunately still unknown, that damn lazy mangaka) and one of them has recently obtained a page of the Book. A page which works well as the entire novel, according to the half dead Taneda. So, how and when the fuck do they intend to use it? If my memory doesn't fail me, the use of the page has something to do with the (quite horrible) death of Gogol, but I'm not sure. And who is this mysterious page possessor? It's not Fyodor, that's sure, for he was already put in chains in Meursault prison by then and later he never even mentioned it; Gogol is dead, so he can't be, can he?; Sigma is not very known yet, but he seems too kind and with an air of "wtf is happening now?" for having taken it (but obviously for all we know, it could perfectly have been him). One of the remaining members? Probably. Agatha herself? It would be too soon, I think.
And we're forgetting that Fyodor is a member of the Decay, not the leader. In fact, when in prison, before getting excited like a kid for having descovered his new cell partner, Dostoevskij makes this comment:
They requested him to form a plan, not he planned something and ordered them to execute it. He doesn't seem to be the boss there. He received an order, and he executed it, while probably creating a fault in the plan just to make things more interesting to him. A fault that he surely expects some people to notice. A not perfect plan is still a challenge, isn't it? It'd explain why he can fulfill his goal but seems to having more fun when losing. He knows he can win (the modest bastard), but purposely lets his goal be delayed. And although he has had many occasions to do so (damn, his same touch can kill) he repeatedly avoided to kill his enemies, maybe because doing so would mean to eliminate the only players who can hope to beat him. Him, or a third party. He openly went to the battlefield, attracted everyone's attention to himself for 30 chapters, seems to be the cause of many events in the series, but this behavior could also be a way to lead the protagonists to beat someone else, trough him. A bait. He is quite devilish, after all. And certainly not new to all the ally-exploit-betray strategy, quite the same as Agatha, I bet.
So, he works with the Decay, but the Decay group works alone or for someone? And who are the ones that requested this plan of his, which, I suppose, consists of every manga panel since chapter 42?
Can they work with Agatha, too? Or for her? Both Dostoevskij and Agatha have every interest to get in the way of each other. Could he work with Agatha and, at the same time, lead Dazai (or whoever else) to foul Agatha's plan? A similar way of thinking could be being unraveled now in Agatha's favor: she probably worked with Fyodor on the plan of his own capture, and the prison of Meursault is indeed described as a top secret prison in Europe, whose existence is known only to the highest members of European government. To Fyodor, a way of hiding himself like a proper puppeteer, to Agatha a way of constantly putting a very unstable ally under her most total supervision. So, given that for both the idea of loyalty is fried air, could his plan be a sort of second "mutual destruction" to make his enemies neutralize each other and then, calmly get what he wants? Dazai himself said that he has not the material means to bring his plan to completion. Means that the guild and Agatha do have (so, the alliance).
Sadly, we have still too little information about Agatha and the Decay to be remotely sure of anything. However, I think the reason why her organization is the only exception in the trouble he caused is because they are still formally allied.
When I said that I don't see Agatha as the final boss is because it would be a really too linear sequence of enemies, it would be fun if there were some surprise in the end. But, if she were really the final boss (and there are some probabilities of it happening), I would like it the same. She would be a serious badass boss and her organization members ... Wow! I'm counting the chapters until they join the battlefield since ch. 12! Still, I'm sure it's only a matter of (veeery long) time for their arrival, but I'm not sure if they will be the final boss. Even if they could. Anyway, we still don't know anything about her, her plans or moves. Not theirs. Nothing can be said for sure. Sorry anon 😅
And then, there is also the matter of that strange group of ability users presented in the novels (that I did not read, so I could say idiocies). Rimbaud, Verlaine, perhaps even Hugo, Goethe etc... For what we know, it can also be theirs the role of final boss. Or someone else's entirely. The final boss could be a known character, or someone not appeared yet. Or Agatha. Or whoever you please. Unfortunately, we are all in the reign of imagination, yet. Even possible for Agatha and Fyodor to be part of that group of ability users, given that they are European like the others. Who knows (I'm surely not, too lazy to read the novels ahahah).
I hope to not have bored you, anon 😅😂 I really got myself carried away, but I hopefully answered your questions? I really hope so. I would like to know your thoughts on these characters, now 😉 and feel free to ask something else, if you want. Only then I will try to make it shorter ahahah. Thanks for the ask, anyway!
#It's really tooo long#😱😱#ask#manga anime#anonymous#bungou stray dogs#bsd#fyodor dostoyevsky bsd#agatha christie bsd#dazai osamu bsd#atsushi nakajima#bsd atsushi#and shibusawa too#Ango#decay of the angels#gogol#Theory#rambling thoughts
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Travis (TMK) - Lafayette, IN
Why I play locally only.
At one point I was ranked 408th in the world in pinball. I drove all around the country within a 6 hour radius spending thousands of dollars and playing in as many tournaments as I could, trying to raise my ranking. In the past doing so was almost a necessity as tournament locations were allowed to hold only one point earning event a year. I would consider myself a ‘B’ level player. (Pinball players can sometimes be ranked A-E).
I stopped playing in 2016 when the ranking system began ranking players based on population more than skill. Although it is true there are elite pinball players that competing against is similar to facing NBA legends in basketball, the change in the ranking system included a MASSIVE emphasis on the number of people playing in a tournament. This led me and at least an entire city of people within my state to completely stop playing, as to many, the ranking system became false and fraudulent passed about the 300th position.
Just as an example of what the 2016 changes meant...A ‘B’ player in a small town could compete in a tournament against 13 other ‘B’ players, finish 2nd in the tournament, and receive a reward for defeating the 12 other ‘B’ players of .6 points. At the same time however, there could be someone who had never played pinball once in their entire life who happened to be on a first date in another location who decided to try and play some pinball to try to break the ice with their date. In doing so they decided to play a pinball machine for the first time in their life. In doing this they noticed a sheet of paper attached to the machine they played advertising a, “Selfie league.” They played some games, took a, “Selfie,” and then jokingly entered their name and picture as a selfie tournament qualifier.
Well, it just so happened that this place located in a large city happened to have quite a few people who had never played pinball before and many of them decided to enter their names into the selfie qualifier as well. Most of them did so without realizing there was a thing called a, “Finals night,” let alone having any intention of participating in the finals night. 120 people in this location all qualified for the selfie tournament, with only about 13 of them being real tournament players. But because of the new ranking system, that person on the first date who cared nothing about the tournament who happened to finish 21st received 2.4 points. So according to the new ranking system, that person on the first date that defeated a multitude of low E level players and jokingly entered into a tournament they cared nothing about is 4 times more skilled than the second place finisher that battled against 13 B level players and defeated 12 of them. In other words, ranking points became based on population and not skill.
So OK, they fixed the rankings a little bit and now players have to have played in so many tournaments to count towards the point total.
So why am I writing this?
The reason I am writing this now is because in January of this year I decided to play pinball again in events held within my hometown only. Many people from all over the country have asked me about going to play in tournaments outside of my hometown. But when I decided to return again at the beginning of the year I made the decision not to leave town, not to play for points, not to try and raise my ranking, and not to, like so many people do, ultimately wonder about why I was paying thousands of dollars a year driving around the country trying to keep up with a fraudulent ranking system that rewards population over skill.
Do I have a “better” idea for a ranking system? No I don’t. And no I don’t have to. I don’t know how to engineer a car either, but I guarantee you if a car doesn’t work properly, and it doesn’t accurately do the basic function it is designed to do correctly, I’m having no part of it. Due to the current ranking system not accurately doing its basic function correctly, I now do not want to be a part of pinball past going out three times a month and competing in events within my hometown.
And honestly, even that is slightly tainted, as I know the State Championship Series, which allows the best players throughout the year in each state to compete for decent cash prizes and a trip to compete in Nationals is based on the same flawed ranking system. And because of that, the majority of the players in five of the six cities within my state have no chance of realistically competing in the SCS under the current ranking system. The SCS should be for the best players, but, as I will explain in a bit, there are average players in one city with a MUCH greater chance of getting into the SCS than even above average players in the other five cities.
There are about a dozen players from the five lowest point producing cities that are good enough to consistently place at the top of the tournaments held in their hometowns that could result in them receiving some decent points. Whether they are decent enough points to qualify for the SCS though, in many instances, no they are not. And for the other 60+ players, they have no chance what-so-ever to qualify for the SCS because the ability to obtain points is not there for them. Unless of course they decide to make 5 to 14 hour drives and pay literally hundreds to thousands of dollars throughout the year for food, gas, mileage, and lodging. And of course, when those kinds of choices pop up, the question becomes, “Is it worth all that?” And to 98% of the 60+ it isn’t.
Based on the first two months of 2019, the projected yearly rankings point totals available for the four main cities within my state are...240, 270, 630, and 1,500. And please keep in mind there are also two other cities that have players that have had such significant drops in points that I am not even listing them here as one receives about 60 points a year and one decided to stop playing in sanctioned events all together.
Now maybe it’s just me, but when the E level 40th place finisher of a tourney in the city producing 1500 points a year receives more points (reflecting they are more skilled) than the B level 4th place finisher in the city producing 270 points a year, even though the B level 4th place finisher would, without a single doubt in the entire known universe, completely destroy the E level 40th place finisher on any game in existence 9 times out of 10, there is an obvious problem with the current ranking system.
It is my belief that the rankings are a total fraud past about the 300th mark. And because of this, it is my choice to play in hometown events only, care nothing about the fraudulent system, and let others waste hundreds and sometimes thousands of dollars taking part in what I and several others perceive as an irrelevant ranking system.
I believe what may ultimately happen in my state is a couple of the Michael Jordan and Larry Bird types that happen to live very close to the 1500 point city will drive over and dominate that city’s reoccurring player field. From what I see, having played against several of the world’s top players in several tourneys, that city’s reoccurring player field features maybe one low A player, four or five B players, and several C-E players. This will make it very easy for the high A players that live close to come in and take the largest cash prizes in the SCS that the 1500 point city worked so hard to build up.
Hopefully after being robbed blind, the 1500 point city will calm it down a bit on the tourneys. Although the, “Prestige,” of being, “Ranked,” so high might be enough for them to keep it going. Unfortunately, all to the dismay of the 60+ players from the other five cities that will never have a shot at SCS competition.
The current ranking system promotes, “Playing more pinball,” kinda, it also causes many reoccurring players to hold less tournaments or stop playing all together. It also does not accurately do what it is designed to do, and that is rank players based on skill. Passed about the 300th spot which doesn’t consist of the players that travel around the entire world playing year round in major tournaments for big dollar prizes, it ranks common players based on population density and where they live and how much money they spend as opposed to how skilled they are. And that is why I play locally only.
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