#a selfish lil bastard but not an ~asshole~ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vinylhazza · 4 years

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Can you write a lil thing about confiding in your best friend (either twin) about your abusive relationship and then he helps you leave and shows you real love. I'm in a abusive relationship atm and I wish I had it :(

LEAVE HIM FOR ME (G.D)

warning: mention of physical abuse, trauma, mention of sexual abuse, angst, fluff

*italics are flashbacks/past conversations*

grayson would have been trying for so long to figure out where the bruises were coming from. he stopped at nothing to try and pry the information out of you until he finally started to back up after you got angry at him one evening for not letting it go.

“just let it the fuck go grayson, i fell. i told you that.” or “yeah straightener is a bitch you know? you’re not a girl you wouldn’t understand gray, i’m okay.”

you knew he was trying to help, but feared that giving them the knowledge would only make it worse. your jackass of a boyfriend was dangerous, you knew it even if he didn’t. he could hurt him, and that was the last thing on earth you would ever want - for grayson to be hurt. you would get teary eyes and a flustered blush when he noticed your frown at the mention of the bastards name. it was like a shock to your system. with grayson...everything was different. you weren’t weak. you weren’t some piece of meat that could be abused and used whenever he pleased. you weren’t a derogatory name that seemed to define you.

he kept you safe. he kept you warm when you shivered. he made sure you ate when he notices you haven’t touched a single piece of food all day, takes e time to cook your favorite meal of all. he would care for you, wait on your every hand and foot when you felt ill, make that special soup his ma taught him when he was younger, he knows how much it helps. he braids your hair to help you calm down, and he’s actually very good at it. something about the tenderness and care he gives you when he’s messing with your hair immediately eases your stress, and you don’t know it, but he has a small smile the entire time.

God that man would love the fuck out of you, just waiting in the shadows for you to see that he was right there, waiting to give you all the love that he could give. Grayson’s love language was physical touching, he loved to have his hair played with, back scratches, hugs that last too long, having your legs propped up over his lap as you watch a netflix special. he often watches you close in those moments, running his own fingers through your hair, deep slow massages, and sometimes....he even leaned in for a kiss on your cheek, your forehead, and when he was especially clingy, your neck. you didn’t think anything of, even tried to ignore the fluttering in your stomach - the butterflies swirling around like a tornadoe. and you especially ignore the clenching in your lower region, trying to convince yourself it’s not him in particular but the lack of affectionate touches you never receive from your boyfriend.

deep down, you know your heart tells you different. but you aren’t a cheater and how could you leave? you know he would come after you, after your family, after grayson, even after ethan if he’s as crazy as you thought he was.

the first time he hit you, was the first night he ever yelled at you as well. it had been sudden, out of nowhere, shocking. he was...not right that day. he was irritable, not really speaking to you all that much...just quite frankly being a dick. your love language is physical touch just like graysons, but...not that kind. you had just wanted to hug him, maybe give him a reassuring squeeze to let him know you were there to help him and be there for him through whatever it was he was struggling with. you know how hard it is to be in your own head and have no one to share your pain with.

but his hand slapping into like a tidal wave prevented that from ever happening.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?! can’t you see i want to be left the fuck alone?! are you fucking dumb?! get out!”

you spent the whole night crying, curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around you tight, a bag of frozen peas pressed up against your right cheek. in the morning when you woke up with a groan, you stumbled into the bathroom to find a black and blue bruise right along your cheek bone - a hateful looking mark. this...this wasn’t love.

“such a slutty, dumb little bitch. thinking you can wear that out and strut around like a whore? then i’ll treat you like a whore.”

he never apologized and the violence never stopped. the punches became more frequent, and it was getting so hard for you to hide them that you began making excuses: falling, fluke accidents that sometimes made no sense, dropping something, bumping into things. but everytime you made up a lie, it took a piece of you away. a piece of you that you felt would always in some way be connected to him. to his viscous words, actions, and those little moments that kept convincing you to stay.

you stayed for the rare moments he would smile, the times that would remind you of the man you fell for - the one that didn’t exist anymore. you knew you were foolish and anyone with a brain could see right through your stupid lies and excuses, but you simply avoided talking about him. he made you think it’s what you deserved. and after a while you believed it.

you stopped being sexually attracted to him in the very beginning, when the hitting first began...but he...he was a man of selfish desire. take what he wants and be on his way, keep treating you like dirt, keep kicking you while he knew you had no fighting chance. he took advantage of your body, used you like a toy and threw you away. made you think it was a yes even when you screamed no. a hand over your mouth, his tongue down your throat, you didn’t have a choice.

grayson knew it all along. he knew the bastard hit you. he knew the disgusting filth of a man you would go ‘home’ to. he knew it wasn’t your true home. your home was him. your home was grayson. but you had to keep him safe, hence the reason you never admitted to the consistent mental, physical, and sexual abuse. but grayson refused to do nothing, stand by and watch the women he loved suffer all alone, determined to be your knight in shining armor, save you from the villain trying to ruin your beautiful life so full of purpose.

“what am i supposed to do e? he’s hurting her, like really hurting her. the bruise on her neck isn’t a fucking burn it looks like a goddamn hand was choking her to death. what am i supposed to do? tell me what to do.”

Distraught was an understatement when it came to a teary eyed grayson sitting at the foot of his brothers bed. you had left after a movie night, having to lie to your boyfriend and tell him you were at a girlfriends house, you’ve already been beat up for even mentioning graysons name. you would never make that mistake again.

ethan sat straight up against his headboard, pulling at the stubble on his chin, brow furrowed with a concerned, and angry, scowl.

“the asshole thinks he can just get away with hurting her because she sits there and takes it...it’s killing me. God how did she get herself into this mess...i just feel...useless. i’m supposed to protect her e, that’s what you do for the people you love and i fucking fail her over and over again everyone i let her walk out the front door of this house,” grayson grumbled, leaning over the bed with his head in his hands. his shoulders were tensing, something that usually happens when he’s especially stressed or upset about something.

“i’m sure ‘taking it’ isn’t exactly what she’s doing. she’s scared. he’s a big guy gray, a dangerous guy, he can really do damage to her if she tries to fight him back,” ethan mutters, not wanting to make his brother more upset. it didn’t seem to be working, “you know this isn’t her fault and so do i gray. a man like that will stop at nothing to control her every move. it’s an act of dominance, control, he wants to rule every action, every thought, every move she might make. if we do anything, we need to do it fast, and do it in a clever way that won’t get her fucking killed by that psychopath.

“it’s just impossible to sit here and have her flinch when i try to touch her...i would never fucking hurt her. i never have. and i know it’s so hard for her to trust anyone with all of the shit she has to deal with...but God dammit i would move heaven and hell for that girl and i need to save her,” grayson sits up, a noticeable tear streaming down his face. his love was evident in his every word, “i’ll take my time. make her see she deserves better. whatever the fuck she needs to convince her to leave that dumbfuck, i’ll do it. i just need help e, that’s all i’m asking.”

“of course gray, you know i got your back. and i have y/n’s too. we are gonna get her away from that creep and show her what real love is. not that fake disgusting shit he claims it is. doesn’t even know what the fuck it means and he has no business using that word frankly.” ethan’s tone is clipped, sharp, and deep - he would do whatever he could to get away just like grayson would. granted he’s not in love with you, but he doesn’t have love for you, and he would still do anything to protect you, “but be patient with her. a guy like that stops at nothing to tear down a woman until she thinks she deserves what’s coming to her. she accepts the pain because she is trained to live in silence. we need to break that silence and make sure that she knows it’s okay to tell us and we would never put her in danger.”

there is silence for a moment, full of tension, worry, for their friend. graysons worries if he speaks, he might cry. instead he ops for bouncing his knee in a steady rhythm, something you taught him to do when he felt restless. and it helps. but with a deep breath he’s turning back to ethan.

“okay so, how do we do it?” grayson stands, ready to take on whatever it is to get her in his arms safe and sound. even if that means hurting her jackass of a boyfriend. hopefully soon to be ex, he thought.

“well, i think maybe tricking her into a little intervention is the only way to go about it. or maybe one of us can convince her to spill the beans. it might be too much on her if we both start hounding her with questions she’s scared to answer. i’m sure some of them are very personal. we can’t freak her out, she’s already so fragile.” grayson knew he was right. he needs to proceed with caution. maybe if he could convince her he’s who she belongs with...confesses to his desires and wishes maybe she would have the strength to leave. if that’s even what she wanted. if not it would ruin their friendship and she would still be in a bad situation.

“true...if we go to their apartment fists up and ready to fight, it will probably make it worse and fall back on her. she’s doesn’t need any more problems than she already has. i mean hell, she’s even scared to sleep anymore,” grayson ponders. he remembers the nights she would stay over when her boyfriend was away gallivanting with whatever floosy he could find. cheating abusive bastard that he was. then it dawned on him.

“what if, and hear me out, what if we just move her out and have her live with us? i mean the guy doesn’t know where we live and fuck it i’ll get security if i have to. we’ve been needing it for a while anyway. she would be safe, protected, and with her closest friends who wouldn’t let a damn thing happen to her,” grayson tried to explain himself, gauging ethans reaction to see if he had a disapproving face.

to his surprise, he didn’t. in fact, it was like a lightbulb clicked inside of his head. with a clap of his hands he’s standing.

“that’s actually a great idea. i don’t know when he leaves or whatever the dumbfuck does but when he does we can go over there and get all of her stuff out and move her in here. we just have to make sure we know when he leaves, when he comes back, and most importantly if she will even say yes.”

it was three days after when you finally stopped by. the bruises on the left side of your neck and cheekbone fading away. graysons heart broke every time he saw the purplish hue on your face. he would kill him if he could. he would do whatever it took to keep you safe. he just had to do it like a civilized human being. he knew that at least if you’re on his property and your stupid bitch if a boyfriend came by...well let’s just say he wouldn’t be so forgiving.

he pulled you into the backyard with the sun just sinking under the horizon. he wondered how you managed to sneak away without a scratch, but hopefully it would be the last time you had to.

“i need to talk to you about something,” grayson started, pulling at your hand to bring you further into the backyard, standing in the grass just beside the pool. he was nervous, palms sweating already. this was a big moment, and it could change everything for them.

“is it about the last piece of banana bread? cause i ate that like a week ago and if you just now noticed maybe you don’t really love it like you claim you-“ you started, teasing him with a smile. always the jokester. he wondered how you found the strength the smile. but he cut you off before you could finish. his frown had your smile wilting.

“i know he’s hitting you. don’t try and hide it either like you always do. you always try and cover up his abuse and his fucking disgusting behavior. and i understand you’re scared, y/n. but this ends now. i don’t care what i have to do to make you see you deserve better but this...this isn’t it. you have so much to give and deserve someone that would burn the whole fucking world down to keep you safe. so stop pretending and tell me the truth.” there it was. that face he was dreading. the face of absolute terror.

he knew. he fucking knew.

you thought you had been good at hiding it from him, from everyone really. even your mother loved your boyfriend. she often said he was “good for you” that she was happy you found him when you did because “he’s the only one that’s really ever gotten you under control”. you haven’t talked to her in months, to say the least.

grayson recieves a chest rattling silence. something he wasn’t expecting from a girl that was known for word vomit and stuttering all over herself trying to get a thought out fast enough before it slipped away. but you stared at him with wide, misty eyes. you were scared - frozen in his backyard. you couldn’t believe he had come right out and called you on your bullshit. but you knew it was coming, you tried your hardest to hide it, but grayson wasn’t stupid.

with a slow shake of your head, you swallow the tears threatening to escape your eyes. you won’t be weak in front of grayson. you spent so much time being weak because of him, but no, not in front of grayson. he deserved better than someone that couldn’t even escape a white boy she fell for after a run in at the movie theater. he deserves someone that can fight for herself.

“so you know. you and ethan i’m assuming?”

a nod with more silence. he is watching you, not exactly staring, but certainly focused on watching you try and hold yourself together. you know ethan is somewhere close by, watching this go down from his own little hide out. you’re half tempted to yell out to the house and tell him to get the hell out there and face you, but then you know you’d have to confess the truth in front of not one, but two of the most important people in your life.

“...what then? you want me to sit here and cry? you want me to break down and talk to you about all the times i’ve come over here and lied? pretending everything was okay and putting a smile on my face? because believe it or not this is my safe place and i’d rather not think of him. you make me forget. i just wanted to forget and i know that hurts you that i didn’t say anything but i don’t know what i’m supposed to do right now gray...” your voice is thick with emotion, hands coming up to twist at the flowy tank top resting on your torso. it suddently became very chilly in the backyard that felt previously warm in the suns dying moments until morning.

“i’m not letting this go. not like all those times before. i had my suspicions, had those little clues that would pop out when i reached to tuck your hair out of your face, or help you with the laundry you still do even when you don’t have to. you would jump, y/n...from me. and i would never,” he swallows, you can feel all the strength it’s taking him not to show you just how much he wants to cry, “i would never, hurt you. there isn’t a bone in my body that would ever touch you in any way other than love and adoration. i know it’s because of him. he’s - he’s fucking sick, y/n. he’s twisted and made it almost impossible for you to live a normal life. you snuck over here didn’t you? it’s nearly 8.” you know he won’t let it go until you answer, so you give him another small nod, biting at your bottom lip and flinching at the tear that drops down onto your cheek. it would wash away that pathetic layer of concealer you put on, exposing more of the purplish bruise he left there.

“where is he? let me guess - he said he was going to “tanners” right?” his voice remains calm, with just a hint of a grit there to show how truly disgusted he was by the man that abused you time and time again.

another nod and small sniffle.

you felt like a child getting caught by your parents for sneaking out.

you and grayson both knew there was no tanner. there was and never would be. it was just another girl he decided to fuck around with before coming back to control you, make you feel like the disloyal one. make you feel like the monster.

“and what happens when he comes back and you’re not there huh? what happens if he comes back early and wants you to text him a picture of where you are? actually fuck that have you even thought that maybe the psychopath put a tracker on your phone? ...why are you back away? hey hey come here it’s okay i’m not mad at you,” grayson is trailing off into an apology when he notices the distance beginning to grow between your two bodies. he was near yelling at the end of his little speech and you’ve learned enough to know what yelling means. of course he said he wouldn’t hurt you, but that’s exactly what he said in the beginning too. and look where you are now.

before you can back away from his touch any further, he’s tugging you into a hug, cradling the back of your head against his chest. his heart beat was steady, the calm thumping easing your own nerves. he never held you like this. grayson wasn’t him. it was unfair to be afraid of everyone because someone tried to stifle your fire. with your body tucked into his arms, grayson rocks side to side on the bottom of his shoes, eyes closed and chin resting on the top of your head. you liked to be held when you’re upset and overwhelmed and he knew it. it helped ground you.

he’s pulling away too soon, swiping a hand through his hair in frustration. you know it’s hard for grayson to express his emotions sometimes. giving him the same patience he gives you is the least you could do. you stand quietly in front of the tall block of muscle, arms crossed once again - a comfort mechanism you’ve taken up over the past few months - and wait for him to sort his thoughts out and try again.

“i didn’t mean to yell but dammit, y/n. i mean it when i say you can trust me. i know he’s ruined so many things but this - us - isn’t going to be one of them. he doesn’t get the satisfaction of pushing us apart. you -“ a huff “you’re too...special to let go. and it’s his own fault he can’t see it.” from the dead serious look in his hazel eyes, you know he means every word.

you wouldn’t say grayson is entirely closed off, especially when he’s always touching you in secret, tender ways when no one else is looking. he tells you secrets he’s scared to tell anyone else. he’s not a secret. he’s just in some way...scared just like you.

“gray i don’t know what to tell you...it’s not as easy as you’re making it seem. and yeah he has ways of tracking me i’m sure, but i can’t just go without you you idiot. that would kill me. it would fucking break me and i hate that you’re making me admit it.” he frowns at the break in your voice.

“leave him,” graysons voice is soft, but more serious than you’ve ever heard it. so deep rooted with...something you can’t quite catch...that it makes you shiver.

“gray...”

it’s not that simple. you can’t leave a man that has his grip on you too tight. you can’t just leave a man that has made it his goal to make sure it never happens. you can’t just leave because you wish to be with the love of your life...you can’t just...want love when you’re trapped with no hope of escape. especially when that very same person whose love you yearn for is promising it to you, unknowing of the sure consequence.

he doesn’t give you a chance to turn him down, say anything more that will certainly be a way to weasel yourself out of this. he knows you’re in denial, denial of what there is blossoming between you, the bod consuming desire to always be touching whenever you are together - whether it be a pinky hooked around another, an arm over your shoulder, an arm around his waist, fingers massaging at your scalp. whatever it was, it was real.

“might i make a suggestion gray?” ethan frowns, biting at the skin of his bottom lip, now raw with his anxious assault.

“whatever it is make it good because i’m not changing my mind,” grayson grunted, slicing his bananas at a quicker pace. he’d have to build up strength for this conversation, lord knows it’s going to tire him out. you’re a tough one to crack. another reason that he fucking loved you so much.

“tell her how you feel before it’s too late. i’m sure you’ll be pleased with the outcome.”

how could he be so sure?

fire twists in your tummy as grayson inches towards you, eyes narrowed right at your own misty orbs. with irises blown out and black, he tucks that cussed piece of hair behind your ear. with his fingers feathering across the skin of your cheekbone, another tear drops to your cheek. it streaks a hot river across the skin, chipping away that milky concealer, a mask to hide the evil. the way he gazed at you like you were and always would be the most beautiful treasure, only made you confirm to yourself that it was torture to love someone you were scared to have.

“i know you feel this...don’t fight it...just let me show you how good this can feel...how it’s supposed to feel” his voice had switched from one of raw emotion to one of earnest and...need.

within an instant he is grabbing your face and pulling you close by the back of your neck, a hand digging deeply into your mane of hair. he made a fist to secure you to him, afraid if he let go you might disappear. another hand was pressed against your cheek - being careful to not apply direct pressure to your bruise, instead rubbing it tenderly with his thumb. his touch not only eased the pain, but the memories that matched themselves to it. soft plump lips landed on yours perfectly with a hum resonating in his chest. it was a pathetic, needy sound - one that made you aware that he really meant it. he’s been waiting for this. to have your lips smashed up against his. it was like an itch he’s been waiting to scratch, now relieved. he takes his time to let himself feel his way through the kiss - initially feeling your shocked lips at a stand still.

he almost backs away in defeat, but then... you’re sighing, a satisfied, eager sigh tossed between the two of you. biting at his bottom lip felt like a burst of unashamed power coursing through your veins. your tiny nimble fingers are tugging at his white cotton t-shirt and pulling him even closer if possible, goose flesh tracking from your shoulders down to your fingertips. youve kissed let that be known, a guy here or there, but none of those kisses had ever felt like this. before registering how much trouble you would get in if he ever found out what you were doing and how good it felt doing it, you are tilting your head to the side and moving your lips against his greedily. humming into his mouth and pushing your front against his flat. fuck his kiss felt so good. his lips were patient and languid, lapping like smooth waves of the ocean. persistent.

his hands made sure to move your face just the right way, get just the right angle, sure he could feel you turning weak at the knees already. not anything like any other kiss you’ve been given. it’s patient, tender, purposeful - that purpose being to convey just how much you mean to him and always will mean. the way he’s kissing you is a desperate move to tell you how he feels without having to say it just yet. this is everything you’ve ever wanted but never knew you could have, or feel, or want.

his tongue is slipping into your mouth when you gasp in shock at the electric fire burning through your senses and into every nerve in your body. your hands feel tiny on his massive biceps, but he loves the feeling of your thumbs rubbing at his skin while he kisses you so deep. your tongues danced together, the kiss stealing your breath away. it was fierce and passionate, everything you thought kissing him would be like. you had daydreamed about this moment forever, and you couldn’t believe it was finally happening. especially not like this. not when you’re a damsel in distress, waving your pathetic hand at the top of the tower in hopes your knight in shining armor would come and save you. the day had finally come.

he’s pulling away slowly, begrudgingly, panting from working his mouth so hard against yours. wanting to take it farther than a kiss, but understanding enough to know it would take a lot more time to be at that poin - no matter how bad you both wanted it. your trauma lurked beneath the surface, a fight for another day. he poured everything into that kiss. the rosy red color of his skin being a testament to that. he hoped you knew just how much it meant to him. from the way you stared at his mouth in a trance, he knew it meant just as much to you. the look of wanting in your eyes made him shiver.

“you want me?”

the best you give him is a puffed out “yes” between your lips, staring at his own longingly. it was a pathetic sound, a cringe fighting to shrink in your shoulders and hide yourself from him, but you accepted it as it came. you wanted more. you thought for a split second that you couldn’t imagine never feeling that again. electric. strong. like fireworks igniting in your body over and over. your eyes travel slowly from his mouth to his soft wishful eyes, feeling the sudden urge to cry again.

“leave him for me,” his whisper is pained, vulnerable and aching for you to want him back. need him back. love him back.

“but i can’t have you, you know i can’t. he won’t allow me to leave him.” God it killed you to even say it. You wanted to throw caution to the wind, and in a way you had, but to throw it all out would mean putting him in the line of fire - and you didn’t know if you could bare seeing him burnt.

“yes you can, you can have me. every hour of everyday. you can fucking have me. you have always had me, y/n. i think you know that. i can’t lie anymore. not when it means this much to me. he won’t keep you a prisoner. i refuse for it to happen. i know you want this as much as i do. i feel it. i’ve always felt it. if you don’t leave for you, then leave for me. just...you have to let me protect you.”

the way he says it, just holding you in place, forehead resting against yours in an attempt to stop the tears bubbling behind his eyes. it killed him to see you caged like an animal when you wanted so badly to be free. he would do whatever the fuck he needed to do and he swore his life on it. whether you believed it or not.

“but how? he’s a psycho grayson the man beat me for getting gas without telling him. i was gone for 5 minutes.“

“i know sh, i know it sounds crazy and reckless,”

“really reckless,” you tutted, popping your lips out in a dissatisfied pout. it was cute but he needed to focus.

“- just hear me out. me and ethan have a plan that involves no contact, and if he does show up i don’t think you are underestimating the lengths we will go to, to make sure he doesn’t lay a finger on this beautiful body of yours. he doesn’t get to have you anymore, he abused that privilege, literally. he didn’t appreciate and cherish what he had so now it’s over. you won’t ever have to see him again. but it’s gonna take a little cooperation and for you to be that sneaky little detective i know that you are.” he waits for your reaction, confused that your eyes are still closed, your thumbs still rubbing at his forearms. it was peaceful. for the first time, you felt protected. and really understood. important. valued. loved. whole fuck you felt loved.

“i don’t know how much help i can be,” you choked, voice a lot weaker than you wanted it to sound. truth is, it was taking every bone in your body not to kiss him again, get that fire ignited again. but you had to focus. one battle at a time. beat the dragon, then you get the prince.

“how about this, you and i, we go back in the house, i’ll sit you down on the counter - yeah that’s right the counter - because i don’t give a fuck if ethan thinks it’s unsanitary. i’m gonna cook you you’re favorite meal, kiss those beautiful lips for as long as i want,” he pauses to dip his head down, pecking your lips slowly as an example, a butterfly flew through your core, wings licking at the buzzing nerves, “and explain every tiny detail until you understand just how serious we are about getting you away from that sick creep. i may be persistent but my brother is a determined mother fucker too and he cares about you, y/n. as much as he loves to tease you and throw his little tantrums when you eat the last piece of pizza - he cares so much. and he wants you to be safe. to be with us. be with me...if that’s what you want.”

“as in like...live with you? are you sure that’s a good idea? i mean i kind of have a crazy guy on my back you sure you guys want that baggage?” you’re tone is lighthearted and witty, but he knows that’s just you trying to hide how nervous you were.

“you know, when you love someone, their baggage becomes your baggage. you have that weight together and find the strength to carry it along the way. at least that’s what i’ve found out.”

when you love someone

when he loves someone

when grayson loves...

he loves you

“you love me?” the gleam in your eye is too obvious to miss, the excitement of a child, the joy of a rich man, the satisfaction of a sinner, the bliss of a saint.

“maybe a little,” he grins, lips dropping onto random areas of your face, making their way slowly down, down, down to your blush pink lips. the feeling of them puckering had him pulling you closer again.

“is it too much to ask that you say it again? just for good measure.” your request has him chuckling in your ear, hair tickling you when he bobs his head in a nod.

“i love you,” he sighs, finger hooked under your jaw to tilt your head to the side, sealing his lips down onto yours again. breathing in the sweet scent of your perfume. it drowned his every sense.

it felt so fucking good to say that.

it sounded like your favorite melody. and somehow, as cheesy as it sounded, it gave you strength. gave you that extra power you needed to know that this life did have a purpose beyond pain and misery. it had people like grayson. people like ethan. people that cared about you. people that protected you. people that were ready to do anything they had to do just to make sure you knew how loved you really were.

“i love you too.” it slipped out without you knowing. your hand itched to slap over your mouth, cover up the ultimate betrayal against the monster somewhere off in LA cheating on you again, planning his next attack against you. but no, you wouldn’t feel guilty about loving him. not when it’s the strongest emotion you’ve ever felt. not when it was the truth. and not when he’s cradling you in his arms promising a future beyond the pain and sadness you’ve been stuck in for so long. so for good measure, and just because it felt like a breath of fresh air, you say it again, “i love you.”

“oh fuck,” he breathes through a disbelieving grin, picking you up by the back of your thighs and spinning you around in circles. your legs hooked around his waist tightly, squealing laughter echoing throughout the backyard. this is the freest you’ve felt in so so long. he slows down to a sway once again, turning your head to kiss you slowly, pushing his tongue between your lips to dance with yours again.

“slow down, slow down, we still have something to do yeknow,” you breathe, a lazy smile aimed at his own delighted eyes. he looked so free and it shocked out for some reason that you were the cause of that look.

“no no you’re right i’m sorry, i’m just happy. feels good when you know the girl you love is safe for once. but i guess we do have to go talk to ethan about the insufferable douchebag you chose to date for whatever ungodly reason. must have had a magical dick or something cause the man is lacking in all other categories,” grayson mocks, setting you back into the flats on your feet and imtertwining your fingers together, leading you back toward the house where you presume ethan is waiting somewhere close by.

“actually no, he never really uh...finished the job in that department. was kind of selfish. but i managed,” you tut, rubbing your thumb over the skin on his hand, loving the feeling of him against you in any way you could get. you knew you were so touch starved, but didn’t care if it felt this good.

he stopped at the sliding glass door, face dully lit by the yellow of the light from the kitchen, pointing a defined eyebrow at you in a displeased scowl, the fucker didn’t even make you cum? with a shake of his head he’s sliding the glass door open, ready to talk to his brother and start the plan for your escape. hes ready to see you thrive again. he knows neither he, nor ethan will rest until you have shaken every form of contact with the spineless monster you’re controlled by daily. this plan will be his religion until it is completed. he turns his head to look at you, a smirk on his delicious soft lips, licking at them quickly.

“we will be changing that, make no mistake.”

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cakesunflower · 5 years

Text

No Need Convincing Me [Tattoo Artist!Calum AU] Part 5

Summary: Elodie Banks hadn’t expected to get so caught up in her best friend’s tattoo artist. But all it took was one meeting with Calum Hood for Elodie to feel herself drawing towards him and the ink on his skin. Maybe once she was rid of a miserable relationship and the insecurities that came with it, she’d allow herself to realize that Calum was just as wrapped up in her.

A/N: i’m not entirely satisfied with the end but like. i just needed it to be done. i definitely finished writing this in my medieval lit class while my professor talked about Chaucer bc fuck Chaucer he’s a lil bitch. ANYWAYS. happy reading!!!!

All Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6

Part 5

“Come on, man, it’s not that hard once you get the hang of it.”

Calum rolled his eyes as he and Michael crossed the street, giving a shake of his head. “Luke likes to play, just ask him.”

Michael let out a scoff, as if Calum’s suggestion was completely unsound. He sniffed, the cold late afternoon air hitting his face as they walked. “Luke dies in, like, the first minute. It’s pretty fucking pathetic,” he added with a patronizing snicker towards his best friend.

Calum huffed out a laugh, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket. He almost regretted not wearing his hoodie underneath, remaining in just a shirt, as the cold weather chilled his body, the chain necklace he wore feeling like ice on his skin in addition to the breeze. He and Michael walked side by side, only stepping apart as a family shuffled past right between them before falling into step with one another as Calum said, “I’m down to play any other game with you except Fortnite. Or that weird card game.”

Throwing his head back to let out a pretty dramatic groan, earring dangling and hand flying up to the top of his head to keep his hat in place, Michael complained, “Magic: The Gathering isn’t a weird card game if you just gave it a shot!”

Calum merely smirked lazily, figuring that one day he’d give into Michael’s request and play the card game. For now he’d just let Michael sweat it out. So Calum shot his friend a look and challenged, “I’ll play the damn game when you decide to start filling in your bands—you work at a tattoo shop, for fuck’s sake.” Michael sputtered, glancing down at his tattooed arm, forgetting in that moment that he had a sweatshirt on. Calum shook his head in exaggerated disappointment. “There’s no reason you shouldn’t—”

He cut off right as a store door opened in his path—where was the sidewalk store etiquette of having doors open into the store?—and Calum wondered if this was some kind of universal joke as Nathan, of all of the people in this populated city, strolled out. He paused, green eyes meeting Calum’s dark brown as he fixed his damn cuff links, lips curling automatically into a sneer as he took in the sight of Calum.

And Calum couldn’t help it, he stopped as well—mostly because he had to as a way of avoiding getting hit by the door—and let out an unamused breath through his nose as he realized they were in front of the high tux shop a couple of blocks from their parlor, before his gaze returned to Nathan. He looked just as crisp and clean cut as usual as Calum eyed him, expression bemused and the corner of his lips just barely lifting into a condescending smirk. His unimpressed stare remained on Nathan while he drawled to Michael, “This fuckin’ guy.”

He heard Michael let out a displeased scoff of his own while Nathan merely smirked as he mused, “Tell me—is the tattoo profession truly that slow since you and your employee here can afford walking around the city during business hours? Seems like I only ever see you out of your shop, pal.”

Nathan was obviously goading him, or at least trying to, a not-so-subtle dig at Calum’s choice of career. Not that Nathan trying to paint himself as the more successful of them had any effect on Calum; the tattoo artist knew his business was doing better than great, and he was pretty damn happy and content with his life. Nothing a bitter, petty, and asshole of a man could say would make any of that less true.

“Funny, I was just gonna say I’ve been seein’ a bit too much of you,” Calum responded, his tone flat and sounding just as uninterested as he was.

It was also meant to be the last thing Calum was going to say to Nathan, exchanging a bored look with Michael just as the words left his lips before the two of them went to side step him and continued on their way. They were just about to merge back into the sidewalk traffic when Nathan spoke up once more, “That’ll happen if you glue yourself to Elodie. How much longer are you planning on doing that, by the way? Being so codependent isn’t healthy, you know.”

A soft yet disbelieving breath escaped Calum’s lips at Nathan’s words, eyes rolling skywards as he wondered if the mad bastard really just uttered that statement. Calum would’ve laughed at Nathan’s hypocricy in regards to healthy relationships—who the fuck was he, of all people, to try and give advice on those?—if it weren’t for the irritation so quickly beginning to burn his blood. Was this guy really so blind to think that what he did to Elodie was normal? It concerned Calum if that was true; the reminder of what she had to endure in a relationship with someone like Nathan twisted Calum’s stomach in uneasy anger. No one deserved to be treated the way Nathan treated Elodie, and knowing that someone Calum was so quickly coming to care about had to go through that only further pissed him off. And to think that Nathan thought that Calum being with Elodie was something that had an expiration date on it, he was sorely mistaken. Calum didn’t plan on it, and he could only hope, though he may kind of know, that Elodie didn’t, either.

Calum could’ve easily been the bigger man and continued walking, ignoring Nathan and his taunts that didn’t effect Calum. But he also didn’t want Nathan walking away thinking his behavior and words were so easily done without him being put in his place. Calum wasn’t too keen on being given the responsibility of being the one to do so, but then Elodie’s face flashed in his mind; her brown eyes and soft hair and gentle smile and the kind tone she spoke in, and Calum didn’t mind anymore. He found himself realizing, as a smile threatened to quirk at his lips for no reason other than just thinking about Elodie, that he’d probably do anything for her already. He was fine with that.

Calum and Elodie weren’t codependent, not by a long shot; they were just getting to know each other, a journey they were both enjoying and didn’t want to end. So he wasn’t even going to acknowledge that part of Nathan’s empty taunt. Instead, he just turned around, catching Michael’s semi-amused huff, and tilted his chin at Nathan. “At least I’m not a controlling bastard like you.” With a cock of his head, Calum pushed smugly, “Isn’t that why your unhealthy relationship died?” Calum clicked his tongue in mock empathy. “Must be shit to not have control over someone and lose ’em.”

He saw the effect his words had on Nathan, who had proven to not being as good as Calum in keeping himself in check, as the snide smirk on his lips dissipated as his jaw clenched and gaze hardened, lips twitching into a frown he couldn’t contain. Even so, Calum couldn’t tell if Nathan was more bothered by the comment of him being controlling, or the reminder that Elodie ended their relationship.

Instead of lashing out, Nathan took a step towards Calum, a single click of the heel of his fancy ass dress shoes as Calum felt Michael tense up ever so slightly. But Nathan’s gaze remained on Calum, who kept his gaze on him evenly. Nathan’s green eyes were brimming with a familiar fire and his teeth gritted as he threatened in a low, taut tone, “She’s never going to love someone like you.”

It was almost amusing how Nathan thought that was for him to decide. Calum cared for no one’s opinion but Elodie’s, and he wasn’t going to let a selfish, bitter ex of hers influence his thoughts. Love was some ways away for now—but with Elodie, Calum had a feeling he was on the track, given just how fast and quickly he fell for her. And, shit, did he revel in it. So Calum’s dark eyes narrowed slightly but remained on Nathan’s green, hands that were still in the pockets of his leather jacket forming into tight fists as he returned assertively, just a hint of ridicule, “Are you speaking from experience?”

He was well aware that his words were fuel to an already brimming fire, and Calum picked up on the instant shift of Nathan’s expression, saw the severe temper Calum provoked darken his green eyes and the twitch of his lips threatening into a snarl. But Calum was unapologetic, didn’t care that he was reminding the bastard of how shitty his relationship was despite whatever delusion he’d put himself into. Calum was still unapologetic when Nathan pulled back his hand in one second and slammed the knuckles of his fist into the bone of Calum’s cheek.

There was an instant numbing sting that settled in Calum’s face, forced to stumble only a single step back from the force Nathan put behind the punch. Calum was more surprised by the power behind the hit than the actual hit itself, head turning by the punch as it shocked through his face. He was only barely aware of Michael’s protesting shout, didn’t care for the fact that they were on the sidewalk and a few people had looked over upon the violent action. All Calum could focus on was the sting on one side of his face, his own fury thrumming to life as he clenched his jaw, the action only causing a newfound ache, facing the right as his head had turned upon the punch. There were a couple of middle aged women who’d saw what just happened, completely forgetting that they were going to cross the street and instead watching with wide, incredulous eyes.

Calum’s lips parted, slowly dragging his gaze back to Nathan as he licked the inside of his lower lip in provoked acceptance that this was how it was going to be. He almost smirked when Nathan followed his actions with words unsteady because of barely contained anger, “She was lucky to have me. Now she’ll just go back to being absolutely nothing.”

Almost.

But then Nathan had to bring Elodie’s worth into it, something Calum understood neither he nor Nathan could live up to, and any pain of his cheek disappeared as Calum decided, in that split second, to not hold back.

There was no hope for Calum to remain unaffected by Nathan’s jeer, or his presumptuous attitude of being someone who made Elodie anything but unjustifiably insecure and timid, and he ignored Michael’s attempts of pulling him away. Calum felt his muscles tighten as his fingers curled into a fist, his blunt nails digging into his palms, lips curving into an animalistic snarl as he swung his own fist forward.

The first thing Calum noticed was the sharp pain in his fingers as his knuckles dug right into Nathan’s nose because he’d definitely broken it. The second thing Calum noticed was Michael’s startled, “Jesus, fuck!”. And the third thing Calum noticed as Nathan stumbled backwards, much more than Calum had, and Calum’s hand uncurled was the bit of blood that was now tainting his fingers and rings.

Nathan ended up on the ground, a shout of pain escaping him as he brought his hands up to his face, the crimson color painting his skin and dripping right down to stain his probably expensive suit. Calum stood over him, looking down at the bleeding man as his hand hung beside him, the adrenaline pumping through his veins fueled by a wrath he hadn’t known himself capable of numbing him to the pain he was probably going to feel soon in both his face and hand.

But he was aware of the eyes that were watching them, people minding their own business but observing the scene that had just unfolded, yet Calum kept his fiery gaze on Nathan, feeling Michael’s hand on his shoulder. Not an ounce of regret tainted Calum, the beat of his heart only racing due to the adrenaline stemming from the anger Nathan’s words brought. Calum’s jaw clenched, vaguely aware of the sting on his cheek because of the action, but he didn’t care. No fucking way was he going to let this bastard say shit about Elodie and allow him to walk away without repercussions.

“You fuck—” Nathan sputtered through a thick voice, words muffled and disgruntled by his hands holding his nose and the blood that was pouring from it, his eyes widened in pain and incredulity and infuriation as he looked up at them. Calum felt a swell of satisfaction at the sight of him; on his ass on the sidewalk, expensive looking suit getting stained with blood, and not at all looking as put together as he’d like to. “You broke my fucking nose!”

Calum briefly raised his eyebrows, features set and hardened, hyper aware of the warm blood on his own skin. “It was either that or your arm,” he responded briskly, reminding Nathan of his promise from Dominique’s birthday party, to which the fallen man sputtered out something incoherent. “I would’ve preferred both.”

Nathan pushed himself up, a smear of blood on the pavement as he used one hand to get to his feet. His other hand remained on his nose, the crimson blood visible through his fingers, and blonde hair disheveled from the fall. Green eyes enraged, Nathan demanded, “You think you can get away with putting your han—”

“It was self defense, asshole,” Michael spoke up, his own voice tight once he’d gotten over his brief surprise of how quickly things had escalated. “You punched him first and there are loads of witnesses to attest to that. Fucking try.”

Calum pressed the tip of his tongue against the back of his lower teeth, forcefully as he fought the sneer from curling at his lips again, feeling the muscles in his face subtly twitch in protest. This guy—this motherfucker who hurt Elodie with his words and treatment—deserved any kind of pain Calum may have just inflicted upon him. He deserved to feel any semblance of an ache like he caused Elodie, and Calum was more than willing to be the physical enforcer of it. He was proud of her for sticking up for herself, for getting herself out of the situation, but that didn’t mean Calum couldn’t offer his services.

Sure, he’d known her only for a short time but, shit, he’d do it for her.

Nathan fumbled incoherently once more, stupidly, trying and failing to find words to defend himself, to find the kind of words he’d utter to hurt Elodie and throw them in Calum’s face. Hell, if Nathan even tried, he was a bigger idiot than Calum already thought of him as.

So he left him with a simple and honest warning in a tone that left no room for niceties. “You try to talk shit ’bout Elodie again, and I’ll take a couple-a-teeth out, too.”

*****

The second the door to Calum’s apartment swung open, Elodie’s instinctual reaction was to look down at his dominant hand to visually inspect it. The air had rushed out of her lungs the second she’d received Dominique’s text earlier, praising Calum for punching Nathan so hard that he broke his nose, which was the first time Elodie had even heard about the incident. She’d been in her three hour film lecture, only receiving the texts once she was out of class, and had needed to stop walking to make sure she was reading Dominique’s text correctly.

Calum had punched Nathan. He’d broken his nose. And Elodie wasn’t entirely sure how she should feel that the first thought that popped into her head following the news wasn’t to be afraid of Calum, but was to be worried about his hand.

Because as well as Elodie thought she’d known Nathan for the years they grew up together and the months they were dating, it felt like nothing compared to how she was getting to know Calum. With him, nothing felt off limits, there were no egg shells to walk on, no temper to be uneasy around. If Calum punched Nathan, Elodie instinctively knew it was for a good reason. And it felt crazy to her, how easy it felt with Calum; unrestrained and comfortable and good. Maybe that’s why she wanted to see him right away. Because with Nathan, all she ever wanted to do when his temper flared was to get away.

So when the door opened, Elodie’s gaze flickered down to his hand briefly before her worried brown eyes met Calum’s surprisingly sheepish ones, feeling her chest swell happily at the mere sight of him until she took in the slight discoloration on his left cheek. Elodie’s lips parted at the bruise that bloomed on the swell of his cheek, chest sinking with the sharp breath that escaped her as the words, “Are you okay?” tumbled out of her mouth immediately.

She hadn’t been aware that Nathan had gotten a hit in, too. Not nearly as strong, but still. The sight of the injury twisted Elodie’s stomach—the knowledge of it being caused by her ex only worsened it.

But Calum, quickly becoming a light, only smiled through a breathless chuckle and reassured, “I’m fine, doll,” before ducking his head to press a quick kiss to her lips, Elodie’s mouth automatically puckering to accept the kiss before moving further into the apartment. Paws clattered across the floorboards and Calum smiled, as if he didn’t have a bruise on his face, and nodded, “Duke’s just as excited to see you.”

She picked up the dog just as he reached her, accepting and enjoying the kisses she was greeted with, with a smile on her face, though her concerned gaze remained on Calum as she watched him shut the door. Elodie mumbled a gentle, “Hi, buddy,” to Duke as she ran her fingers through his soft fur, his paws against her chest as her gaze dropped to Calum’s hand once more.

Duke wiggled out of her grasp and Elodie bent down enough for him to easily jump down, and her eyebrows knitted together as Calum tried to move past her but she stopped him, grabbing the material of his hoodie. He skidded to a stop as she maneuvered around him, her hand gently grasping his right wrist so she could lift up his hand and inspect it. Elodie’s throat tightened at the faint bruises formed on his knuckles, the color sticking out more than the glint of his rings, and the familiar uneasiness of guilt crept back into her stomach.

“Don’t worry—I didn’t break anythin’. Just iced it a bunch; the bruising will go away soon enough,” Calum told her, the reassurance ever present in his tone, and Elodie adored that he was trying to make her feel better even though he was the one who was physically injured. It only served as a reminder of how considerate Calum was, and it made falling for him that much lighter.

Elodie held his fingers in hers, her touch light as a feather out of fear of somehow irritating his bruise, and let her thumb run over the skin by his rings as she scoffed gently. “Didn’t break anything except for Nathan’s nose.” Was it wrong to feel a smile tug at her lips? She never wanted to be someone to smile at someone else’s expense, much less their pain. But knowing Calum was okay relieved some of the tension in her shoulders. Lifting her gaze, Elodie met Calum’s eyes and told him with only the tiniest bit of amusement coloring her tone, “I heard you got blood on his favorite Armani suit.”

Calum scoffed, lips quirking briefly as he looked down at Elodie holding his hand, ever so careful of touching his injury. With an almost childlike petulance, Calum countered, “He got blood on my favorite rings.”

Despite wanting to continue standing there and joking around lightheartedly, Elodie still felt the weight lingering on her shoulders, which sank when she let out a sigh and lamented, “I hate that this happened to you because of me.” Her throat worked as she eyed the bruise on his cheek, a reddish-purple color blossoming against the brown of his skin. “Do you need ice?”

“Elodie,” Calum was quick to speak up, removing his hand from her light grasp so he could place both of his hands at the sides of her face, fingers tangling into her brown locks and ducking his head to maintain eye contact. He had a habit of holding her like that, and Elodie adored it. His brown eyes were widened in encouragement, hoping she would hear his words loud and clear as he said, “This didn’t happen because of you. It happened because your ex is a dick and I’ve been known for being unable to keep my mouth shut.” His touch was warm, as always, and his words spread the same comfort his hands did as his thumb stroked her cheek. “And it was completely worth it.”

Still, Elodie found herself nibbling on her lower lip as she gazed at the bruise on his cheek and was hyper aware of his discolored knuckles as well. The heaviness in her chest wasn’t as suffocating, but it was still there as it dried her throat, and Elodie couldn’t bring herself to look Calum in the eyes anymore. Not through any fault of his own—she just had some things to work through as well, things ingrained into her by her selfish ex, and it was those same insecurities that had her whispering out, “Why is it when I’m in a relationship, someone ends up hurt?”

“Baby.” Elodie’s heart lodged itself in her throat as the term of endearment slipped from Calum’s lips, soft and raspy in his desperate voice. He’d never called her that before. She liked it. Calum gently tilted her head—more like gave it a nudge, trying to get her to do it on her own because he didn’t want to force her if she didn’t want to. But Elodie found herself lifting her gaze, lips pressing together as her eyes met Calum’s inviting brown ones. “Don’t mistake Nathan’s actions for your own. What you’ve done has allowed you to be yourself unapologetically. You’re out. You’re—”

“Happier,” Elodie finished quietly, feeling that weight lift from her shoulders with every word Calum spoke, no longer suffocating her. Her eyes remained on his as a smile tugged at her lips, hands slipping into the single front pocket of Calum’s hoodie to keep him close. Almost sheepishly, she decided to add, “Safer.”

Maybe it was too soon, maybe she was taking a leap, but that’s how she felt when she was around Calum—safe. Like being herself wasn’t something she actively had to hold back in worry of bothering him, because he liked who she was. He liked that her coffee order differed depending on the time of day she got it because she liked the inconsistency, he liked that at least one article of clothing she wore had to have some kind of floral design, he liked that she was only active on Instagram once a month to post an aesthetically pleasing picture she’d taken before closing the app until the next month arrived. It was all little things that were probably insignificant, but Calum liked them not out of his own personal preference—but because Elodie liked them in herself. And that meant more than Elodie could comprehend.

He let her be herself without fault in the near two months he’d known her than the six months she’d been with Nathan. Calum came into her life like storm and instead of wrecking it, he somehow managed to help clear a path so Elodie could fix it herself.

Elodie let out a breath, throat working as she said to him earnestly, albeit timidly, “I don’t mean to bring the mood down bringing up these. . . Insecurities.”

“You don’t ever bring the mood down, sweetheart,” came Calum’s genuine response, lips curling into the soft smile he had reserved just for her, the one that sent her heart leaping. “You make it worthwhile. C’mere.”

He pulled her in for a hug then, his embrace just as tender as his words as his arms wrapped around her frame, and Elodie pulled her hands out of Calum’s hoodie’s pocket to wrap them around his waist. She closed her eyes, cheek against the area just below his chest because God knows she can’t reach it, and lost herself in his familiar cologne and touch. Elodie felt Calum’s lips press to the top of her head before he rested his uninjured cheek against it, and she sank into his hug, into him, as his tranquility seeped into her bones.

Calum rubbed his hand up and down her back soothingly, the two of them standing in a tender silence, before he murmured, “Come on, dinner’s almost ready.”

Elodie smiled as they pulled away, and she shrugged off her coat before following him into the open plan kitchen. It was there where she saw a pot of pasta boiling on the stove, as well as the other ingredients sitting on the counter ready to be cooked. She followed Calum, a smile tugging at her lips when she noted the boneless and skinned chicken breasts, baby spinach, garlic, parmesan, and a bunch of other ingredients waiting to be prepped.

Her heart was thrumming happily in her chest, eyes alight at the sight before her as Calum picked up the bottle of red wine on the counter and poured some for Elodie and himself. “I thought you weren’t much of a wine drinker,” she hummed as she neared him, gladly taking the glass he offered her. She remembered one of the many conversations they had as they got to know each other, found out that he preferred some good whiskey or maybe even a beer to wine.

“I am around you,” he responded with a smirk, and Elodie giggled lightly as he clinked his glass with hers before the two of them took sips of the bittersweet drink. She smiled around the rim of the glass as Calum shot her a wink over his, before lowering his and moving to go back to the other counter where the stove is. “’M making us some Tuscan chicken and spinach pasta.”

“Sounds delicious,” Elodie hummed, glass still in hand as she moved towards him, leaning against the counter but making sure she didn’t get in his way as she asked, “Can I help?”

There wasn’t much he needed for her to do, so Elodie just stood by Calum and sipped her wine as he worked—eventually he cleared some space on the counter so she could hop up, and Elodie crossed her ankles as she watched him make dinner. There was music softly playing throughout the apartment, songs similar to those she heard in the tattoo parlor, and Elodie gently swayed her head to the music and drank her wine and made conversation with the first man to ever actually make her food.

She may have snapped a picture of Calum cooking the seasons chicken, his gaze on the skillet while an amused grin quirked at his lips, aware of what she was doing. But Elodie couldn’t help it—he looked so at ease as he made the food, which had been his idea in the first place. He was the one who’d invited Elodie over to his place, told her he’d make them dinner and they could hang out, and she recalled the way her heart had melted when he offered to cook. The mere fact that he could and liked to cook was enough to have Elodie rushing over. Nevermind the fact that she loved spending time with him anyway.

They made light conversation; she talked about what she was learning in her lectures plus the new charities she brought up to her family for their foundation to support, while he disclosed the tattoos he’d just done plus a few sketches that he drew. It slipped Elodie’s mind that as a tattoo artist, Calum was also an artist, that many of the tattoos he gave his clients were ones they’d picked from his own designs. She wondered if any of the ones he had were of his own making, still wanted to sit down and ask him about every single one of the words and images inking his skin.

“I wish I was good at something,” Elodie sighed after taking another sip of the wine. She was already a glass and a half in, and it was safe to say she was beginning to feel the lightheadedness that came with drinking it. Her skin was beginning to feel warm, a happy flush on her cheeks, as she pouted. Calum had put the pasta in a big bowl and was mixing in the chicken and spinach and everything else. He quirked an eyebrow at the slight drawl her words were adopting. “All I do is go to school and cry.”

Calum knew he shouldn’t laugh, but he couldn’t help the amused chortle escape him as he glanced over at Elodie with raised eyebrows, the fondness he felt for her warming his heart as he continued tossing the pasta. “You know that’s not true, doll,” he told her knowingly. “You’re good at working your family’s foundation. Aren’t you the one that researches and brings in the charities and organizations you guys support?”

“Well, yeah.” Elodie’s eyebrows furrowed almost childishly, a small pout forming on her lips that Calum felt the urge to kiss. He finished with the pasta, hot and ready to eat, as he took the two steps to the other side of the stove where Elodie sat. She looked up at him, and he noticed the slight glaze over her eyes. “But I feel like I could be doing more.”

“You’re already doing more than most,” Calum told her, coming to a stop in front of her and feeling a smirk curve his lips as Elodie automatically unlocked her ankles and spread her legs just enough for him to step into the space they created. Calum braced his hands on the cool marble counter on either side of her thighs, careful of his bruised knuckles, and enjoyed the scent of her floral perfume that briefly overpowered the food he’d cooked. But Calum focused on her, and the hints of doubt seeping into Elodie in regards to her worth, and he was bitterly reminded of what Nathan had said. Calum wasn’t going to let any spiteful thing that bastard said come true in any way, so he quickly derailed that train of thought in Elodie’s mind. “You, my darling, are better than most people I’ve met. That’s a fact.”

Her cheeks pinkened more than they already were, and Elodie felt her heart flutter happily in her chest. Every time Calum complimented her, she felt the air rushing out of her lungs, incredulous that his words made her feel ten times lighter than how awfully Nathan’s words impacted her. Elodie rested her nearly empty wine glass on the counter, hand coming up to cup Calum’s uninjured jaw and feeling his warm skin under her touch as she told him, honestly and genuinely, “You’re too good to me. That’s a fact.”

“Baby,” Calum breathed, raspy and shiver inducing as he brushed his nose against hers. There it was, that sweet little term that had butterflies exploding in her belly. Calum’s gaze was on hers, never afraid to look her in the eye, as he said, “You’re too good for me. That’s a fact.”

Elodie’s heart jumped, eyes dropping to his lips, just inches away from hers. She barely gave a shake of her head. “Nope.” And then closed the gap to capture his lips with hers.

Calum welcomed the kiss wholeheartedly, a throaty hum sounding in his throat as he moved his lips with Elodie’s and briefly gripped her hips before sliding his hands lower to bury them in the back pockets of her jeans. Elodie felt him pull her closer with his new grip, her lips parting when his tongue trailed across her lower lip, deepening the kiss as the taste of wine remained present on both of them. Her heart drummed in her chest as her own hands slid under Calum’s sweatshirt, his lack of shirt underneath allowing her hands to run along his smooth, warm skin, her touch instinctively causing Calum to give her a cheeky squeeze.

There was dinner waiting for them, Elodie knew that, was excited to take a bite of what Calum had made for them, but Elodie was enjoying the feel and taste of Calum’s lips and how warm he felt against her. She couldn’t help the way she dragged her nails down the length of his back, felt an uncharacteristic smirk tilt at her lips against Calum’s when he deepened the kiss with a deep moan that Elodie swore vibrated through her. He sounded as good as he felt.

Calum leaned into her and Elodie’s heart picked up even more, pounding in her ears because this closeness wasn’t enough; she needed more, craved it, wanting nothing in between them as her lips felt electric against his. Everything else began slipping away, her focus only being on the man who was kissing her like it was the last thing he’d get to do, yet still Elodie tried against her better judgement, “The food’ll get cold.”

Her words were mumbled against Calum’s mouth, and he merely grunted as his hands slipped out of her pockets only to grip the backs of her thighs, giving Elodie no warning as he lifted her. She let out a startled gasp, both at the action and the trickle of worry of his injured hand, but Calum’s teeth grazing her lower lip easily distracted her as she locked her ankles at his lower back and wrapped her arms around his neck as Calum said gruffly, “We’ll reheat it.”

Elodie wasn’t entirely sure how, she was too lost in the way her legs were hooked so perfectly around Calum and how he kissed her so fiercely, like he was putting everything into it, but they eventually ended up in a different room. She barely registered the sound of Calum kicking a door shut, eyes closed to completely savor the taste of his lips, kissing off the wine he’d also drank as Calum sank down until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Hands returning to the hem of Calum’s sweatshirt, Elodie gripped it and pulled it upwards, the material offending and distancing, their kiss breaking only for a moment as she tugged it over his head and let out a breathless giggle when Calum’s one hand reached the back of it to take it all the way off and dropped it on the floor, lips returning to hers urgently.

Her heart thundered as they kissed, his stubble scratching her deliciously as she ran her hands from his neck down his chest, feeling the smoothness of his warm skin and the brief chill of the necklace that he seemingly never left the house without. The need to feel close to him was desperate, and Elodie was quickly losing herself into Calum as she used her nimble fingers to undo the buttons of her blouse, Calum’s hands gripping her hips as she shrugged off the cotton material. Calum’s hands slid up, feeling her bare warm skin, the kiss breaking to allow them to catch their breaths as his gaze dropped.

Their chests heaved in time with their quickened hearts, foreheads and noses pressed together and lips electric as Calum’s gaze dropped to Elodie’s newly exposed skin, throat drying at the sight of her in just a bra and jeans. The quiet of the room was interrupted only by their heavy breaths, and as Elodie’s right hand placed itself on the back of his neck, fingers playing with the growing dark hair, her other dancing along the necklace resting against his tattooed collarbones, she felt the warmth of his hands spread through her body.

Calum ran his hands up and down the smooth skin of her back, the tips of his fingers grazing the band of her bra, and his voice was hoarse as he whispered, “El, are you sure?”

She felt the corners of her lips quirk up, felt the electricity thrumming her veins and the obvious desire of how badly Calum wanted to keep going as she remained straddling his lap, and Elodie decided she didn’t want to shy away from this. From Calum. He never gave her a reason to, so she wouldn’t.

Elodie brushed her lips against Calum’s kissed ones, cheeks warming when he tilted his chin forward to kiss her properly. “Only if you are.”

And then she grinded her hips down on him, a gesture neither of them had been expecting, and Calum’s grip on her tightened, uncaring of his bruised knuckles, as he cursed through gritted teeth, “Fuck.”

She was killing him, he knew, as she pulled him in for another kiss before breaking away too soon. Calum groaned at the loss, eyes opening as he felt Elodie get off of him. He looked up at her, feeling a haze of adoration as he watched her with her long hair falling over shoulders, a not-so-innocent smile playing at her kiss pinkened lips, eyes on him as her fingers worked on the button and zipper of her jeans. Calum’s throat tightened as she kicked the jeans off, only a pretty lingerie set adorning her body that Calum couldn’t wait to take off.

The pout she sent his way nearly had Calum falling to his knees, her long hair falling around her shoulders as she gestured at him with a finger. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” Elodie said, her voice holding her usual sweet lilt, though Calum wasn’t deaf to the playful glimmer in her dark eyes. She continued to surprise him.

He smirked through a chuckle, pulling his lower lip into his mouth while his gaze remained on his girl, watching her watch him as he took off his sweatpants, the smirk wiping off his face when Elodie settled on her knees in the space between his legs and her gentle touch wrapped around his cock.

Calum’s hooded gaze was watching Elodie, feeling his heart in his throat as she closed her mouth around him, and he was in fucking heaven. His uninjured hand, braced behind him, tightened the bed sheets into a fist while the other easily gathered Elodie’s hair behind her head, his own lips parting at the sight of hers around him. The sensation of her hand working what she couldn’t fit in her warm mouth, nails of the other teasingly dragging along the top of his thigh as she worked him over.

“Shit.” It was all he was capable of breathing out, voice ragged and unsteady, the need to throw his head back and get lost in Elodie’s treatment of him heavy, but Calum didn’t want to take his eyes off of her. His fingers tangled in her soft hair, the blood rushing through his veins and thundering heart accompanying the fire spreading throughout his body.

The sight of Elodie on her knees before him was filthy, gorgeous, unexpected and perfect in every way. Calum could feel just how quickly she was pulling him to the edge, her mouth generous and dizzyingly pleasurable. But as pretty as she was before him, Calum knew he was going to come undone if she continued her ministrations, and he wanted to let go for the first time inside of her—not in her mouth.

“What?” Elodie pouted when Calum pulled her up, the loss of her making him grunt as his hands grasped her hips. She let out a startled sound amidst a giggle as Calum used his grip on her to turn them so she fell back onto the bed, Calum immediately sliding his body on top of hers as his lips pressed against hers urgently. He felt her melt under him, her hands running up the expanse of his back before her fingers found his short hair, keeping him close. Calum’s own hand snuck underneath her to unclasp her bra, ignoring the mild sting of his injured fingers at the action as Elodie lowered her arms briefly to slide off the straps before the offending material was gone.

He felt her breasts press against his chest, soft and supple on his warm skin as he kissed her, losing himself in her. Hastily, though not entirely sure how, Calum reached over to his bedside drawer, blindly pulling it open and rummaging around, lips still moving against Elodie’s, until his fingers finally grasped the foil package he’d been searching for.

There was an overwhelming, breathless desire to have her close to him, closer than she already was; to have her against him in all the right ways because it already felt so natural, so good, to be with her like this. The urgency of his kisses slowed, savoring the taste of her chapstick and the wine dancing on both of their tongues as he committed every bit of her to memory while tearing open the packet, ignoring the twinge in his bruised knuckles at the action. God. The last thing he thought was he’d be doing this with Elodie, finally, with a few bruises painting his skin.

She’d taken her underwear off during the moments of Calum rolling on the condom, hissing slightly at the latex against him, forehead pressed to Elodie’s as their heavy breathing became the soundtrack of their anticipation. His gaze lowered, lining himself up to where she needed him most, and in the midst of their excited breathing and hazy heads, Calum’s eyes met Elodie’s once more.

He looked at her, hovering over her as he took in the pretty flush of her cheeks, the already blissed out look in her eyes and lips pink and kissed. Calum’s heart was erratic within his chest, taking her in as he, in that moment, couldn’t help but think how lucky he was. His disbelief and overwhelm could be heard in his heavy breaths, could see Elodie’s own excitement in the rise and fall of her chest and tension of her neck, the diamond pendant of her necklace settled right between her collarbones. She was breathtaking, and Calum was so fucking lucky.

He couldn’t help himself by pressing his lips to hers once more, a slow and lasting kiss that had Elodie’s grip on the back of his neck tightening, wanting him close. Calum lined himself up to her, about to break the kiss just so he could hear her approval, only to be beaten to the punch as Elodie begged against his lips, “Please.”

His hips thrust forward, the sensation of him burying herself in her leaving both of them gasping for air, Elodie clinging to him and Calum groaning into the crook of her neck, feeling the subtle sting of his bruise, though it barely registered. Elodie wrapped her legs around his hips, and Calum’s hand gripped her thigh, uncaring of the strain on his fingers. Nothing mattered except for Elodie. As if there was anything else on his mind.

He started off slow, pulling out before burying himself to the hilt once more, feeling and hearing Elodie’s breath hitch at the sensation of him filling her up, his free arm next to her to keep himself above her. It was a symphony of his grunts and her breathless moans and skin slapping against skin and utterly losing themselves in one another. His motions were fluid and she received him completely, and Calum couldn’t keep himself from marking up her neck as he felt her nails digging into his back.

He could feel himself quickly reaching his high, but Calum fought himself, refusing to come undone until Elodie did first, no matter how difficult it felt after her mouth had worked him over. Praises fell past his lips, effortless in her worship, everything about her continuing to draw him closer and closer to the edge.

And when they lay in bed after the fact, utterly spent as they tried to catch their breaths with only one of his bedsheets covering them, there was a mutual, silent understanding between them that this was. . . Perfect. That laying in bed, warm bodies bare and pressed together under the sheet, with her head laying on his chest and his arm wrapped around her, was a flawless and blissful image they both had yearned for.

Elodie’s fingers danced with his, gaze on the way she gently turned his hand to look at the mild discoloration of his knuckles. The reminder that he was injured, no matter how insignificant Calum paints it to be, because of someone in her life still ate away at Elodie. But she’d be lying if she said there wasn’t a prickle of satisfaction, of adoration, that he wasn’t afraid of standing up for her. He defended her so easily when it took her so long to do so herself, and Elodie liked to think it was her having a wake up call of her own mixed in with a bit of courage from Calum himself that allowed her to be in the position she was in today. She counted herself so lucky that she went to the tattoo parlor with Dominique that day.

“I’m alright, y’know.” Calum’s voice was a low rasp from above her, and Elodie could feel the vibration of him speaking as her head remained against his chest. The way she was caressing his knuckles probably prompted him to speak up. “Doesn’t hurt or anythin’.”

Elodie bit her lower lip, which kind of still tingled from his dizzying kisses. As their fingers gently laced together, she surmised, “You’re just saying that so I won’t feel bad.”

“Hey.” There was a soft disapproving tone in his voice, hand snaking around her to tilt her chin up. Her dark eyes met his after briefly eyeing the bruise on his cheek, and there was a subtle crease between his eyebrows as he said, “I wouldn’t lie to you. And there’s nothing for you to feel bad about. He’s an ass and if I could break his nose again, I would.”

Elodie couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her at Nathan’s expense, the sound quirking up Calum’s lips as well as Elodie looked at him. His lips were as kissed as hers, a pretty flush on his cheeks that she knew was warming her own, and there was a contentment present in her chest that she only ever felt around him. It was enough to push all thoughts of her ex out of her head, irritated with herself for even having a single thought about him. The mere mention of him was a disservice to herself and Calum and the relationship they’d come to have.

So she sat up, pressing the sheet to her chest with one hand, Calum’s arm falling from around her shoulders as he looked at her now seated figure with raised eyebrows. “Come on—” she smiled, grabbing his hand. “I wanna try the pasta.”

Calum chuckled deeply, not one to say no as he followed her off the bed. He put his sweatpants back on as Elodie pulled up her underwear, taking Calum’s hoodie as he offered it to her before following him back into the kitchen. Duke raised his head from where he was on the couch, jumping off as his paws clattered on the floor and followed them as they helped themselves to the dinner Calum had made, needing to heat it up just like he’d said after he poured Duke his food as well.

They ended up on the couch, flickering the TV on with warm plates in their laps with The Office keeping them entertained. And as they watched and ate, Elodie couldn’t help but let her gaze wander to the man sitting on the other end of the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table. Her fork absently played with the pasta on her plate, too distracted by Calum; she felt her heart flutter in her chest, tickling, as she admired the way he laughed at the show, enough to push his cheeks up, uncaring of his bruise, and show off the crinkles by his eyes. He sat shirtless, tattoos on full display, bicep looking a bit too inviting as he held the plate with his left hand above his lap.

Just sitting here brought Elodie a sense of tranquility she’d never felt before, a warmth spreading across her skin as she took in a quiet breath. It was thrilling, how happy he made her, so easily and effortlessly. No wonder she was so willing to accept just how quickly she’d fallen in love with him.

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gingerwritess · 5 years

Note

hiii

sorry i was in the mood for some pining so here’s this angsty lil thing. i’m going to continue it don’t worry and just imagine this is with thor 1 loki, smol lil greasy weasel who doesn’t know anything about love ugh

also just think. this angstiness ends happily in love with beautiful children, elliot and baby 2 ;) i just want to explore how we got there!

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

“Let’s play a game.”

Loki leans forward on his forearms—you find yourself drawn towards him, too.

“Let’s touch each other,” he murmurs, and you immediately push away from him in disgust.

“Every time I think you’ve changed—”

“No, that’s not…that’s not what I meant.” He rubs his eyes with two fingers and a sigh. “We should touch, as in we should try not shying away from each other’s touch.”

A cold hand moves to cover your clenched fist.

“Let’s not refuse each other’s hands,” he continues, “let’s welcome arms around our waists, let’s…speak sweetly and kindly to each other, touch our lips together. Frequently.”

You swallow hard. “Sounds like you’re saying we should date.”

“No.” He shakes his head, something scarily close to fear crossing his eyes. “No, this wouldn’t be dating, courting, committing, love…this would be just another game for us to play.”

“What’s the prize? How do I win?”

“First one to fall loses.”

“That doesn’t scare you?” You can’t help it and lean in closer to hear his almost-whispered voice. “Living like that? So close to each other? So close to being in love?”

He bares his teeth in something between a scowl and a pained grimace. “If its a game, then I can win. I can beat you, best you in another competition and then everything that we…” his voice falters as he gestures between the two of you. “Everything that w-we might have been can be buried in the past, and the both of us leave each other better off.”

“Better off,” you repeat, casting your gaze to your connected hands. That feels scarily right. “We’d be better off without each other, right?”

“Absolutely,” he breathes. “I’m a disease in your blood, and I don’t want you.”

“Alright.”

You stand, a stoicism to your face as if you were marching into a war. Loki has to remind himself you are.

“Three days to win,” he smiles, lacing your fingers together. It’s an empty smile, just another illusion as he ignores the warmth of your hand in his. “Three days and we part ways all the better. As unlikely acquaintances. Agreed?”

In that moment, staring down at him smiling up at you, you bury the last fragment of Loki that you allowed to take hold in your heart—he doesn’t want you, he’s made that clear, and it’s true. He is toxic for you, he’s an alien, for god’s sake, nothing about the two of you could work.

Unnatural, misfitting, just wrong, horribly tempting as it has been as long as you knew him. Three days and you’ll never have to see him again, just…win this competition.

It’s easier, I guess, to acknowledge a sin and keep doing it, knowing you’ll fix yourselves in three days time.

* * * *

“I don’t like this,” you whisper, welcoming his tongue once again into your mouth.

His grip on your hips tightens and he pulls away, staring up at you with dark eyes and parted lips still glistening from you. “You don’t?”

“Don’t stop.”

Mouths meet once more, hot and cold, ice and fire thrashing and burning and freezing over again and again and this time it’s your hands in his hair, rough and pulling his head back to better reach his lips.

“You’re stupid,” you groan when he gently bites your bottom lip, “I hate you, Loki, despise you, I really do. I don’t like this.”

For the first time, you’ve got him gasping for breath along with you, and he grins against your exploring tongue. “Am I winning?”

”I’m—trying—” you kiss him harder, rocking your hips and running your hand down his neck “—to make you lose.”

Those dreaded hands, something now that seem straight out of your nightmares, slide under your shirt, ice against your bare skin.

“Stop that,” you seethe, jolting at the new sensation. “Stop, Loki, I’m not crossing that line for this stupid game.”

His hands return to your hips—he curses himself, that wasn’t supposed to happen. He almost slipped.

You take that as your cue to roll off of him, a hand on his chest pushing him away until your lips break apart with a pop. Arms cross over your chest and you throw a sideways glance at the young god, noting the flush on his cheeks and heaving of his chest, the hands over his groin undeniably covering something he’d rather not confess to.

“I think I win today,” you tell him as you stand, a hint of smugness in your voice. You adjust your shirt, wipe off your mouth with the back of your hand. Grab your bag and head to the door, as if making Loki wish he could have you is just another errand you run.

“You’ll want me tomorrow,” he calls out before you leave, voice hoarse and strangled.

Bastard.

I want you today.

You give him a cold smile, thin ice that’s already cracking. “Good luck with that.”

* * * *

He knows he’s losing—three nights in a row he’s lost sleep because of you, and tonight it’s making him livid.

Gods, he wants you.

Badly.

For selfish and vain reasons, he knows, but that doesn’t change anything. He wants you, and Loki Odinson does what he wants.

It’s the only power he’s been given his entire life, just the power to control what he gets, what he does; the only way for him to feel a sick control of himself is to stop at nothing to get or do what he wants.

But he wants you.

He’s tired of wanting.

Loki won his stupid game today. You played to his rules, you called him your sweetheart, he called you his darling, he pushed aside his more carnal desires long enough to win…but today when he kissed you, you broke down in tears.

Victory is sour.

It was supposed to work—give in to the clearly wrong desire to be together for three days only, try it knowing it’s a guise, just to empty your systems of each other before Loki leaves for Asgard once and for all.

He’s back in his chambers, alone, noticing too much: too big of a bed, too big of a shower, everything is too big just for him. After a painful shower trying to scrub your touch out of his skin, he lays in his too big bed and lets himself slip.

It’s a pipe dream, the fantasy of a child, but he dredges it up from the pits of his mind before he can stop himself.

A hand intertwined with his, soft lips against his own. A smile for him across a room, chiming laughter at his doing. A home, just for him and the blank face that’s filled this spot for centuries, a home with a bed that wouldn’t feel so empty.

You start taking that blank space and suddenly it’s you, all you and you’re holding a child, a baby that looks like him, you’re smiling for Loki, laughing with his child and holding out your hand to him. Then he kisses you and you don’t cry.

Oh gods above, he wants you.

The god rolls onto his stomach in the empty bed and buries his face in the pillows; you’re kissing him with gentle lips, whispering in his ear as he shows you the Asgardian night sky, softly touching him with warm hands that only make him crave more of you.

He needs to stop thinking about this—his eyes close and you’ve knocked his book out of his hands to take its place, straddling his lap and kissing away every last trouble or insecurity he’s ever felt in all the years he’s been alive.

Stop. this.

The worst part is that now he knows you want him, too.

The projection of you in his mind reaches for the hem of your shirt and Loki’s eyes fly wide open—NO.

Not crossing that line, you said. He has to respect that.

“I want you,” Loki whispers aloud, hating himself for actually forming the words in the air in front of him. “I want you, yesterday, today, and tomorrow.”

* * * *

You’re no better off, back on earth, but when Loki materialises on the sidewalk on your walk to work, the last thing you’re even close to feeling is happy to see him.

“You won,” you snap, taking another bite of your half a bagel and not slowing your pace. “Leave me alone, Loki.”

“Please listen to me.” He’s walking like royalty, a cool and collected facade, but you can hear the desperation in his voice. “For just a moment, please, give me a chance.”

A shake of your head and you cross the street, followed close behind by the persistent god. “Your coffee’s gone cold,” he hums after a moment, hands clasped behind his back. “Let me get you a fresh cup, ten minutes is all I ask.”

A sip of the coffee that you just bought for upwards of five dollars tells you Loki definitely turned that cappuccino ice cold just now.

Asshole.

“I’m only doing this for the coffee,” you tell him as you stand in line at the nearest coffee shop, Loki next to you trying to count bills and sort a handful of coins.

Disgustingly domestic, he notices as he drops a couple coins, this is practically a date. Standing in line together, buying each other things. You grabbing the money out of his hand and counting it for him, calling him an idiot.

His heart swells.

Of course, it’d be nice if you felt the same. Or would give him even half a smile.

But…your brow stays furrowed as you shove past him after ordering, flopping into a seat by the window and taking an angry bite of your bagel. He follows cautiously, wishing he could understand you.

“Well?” You wave a hand at the chair across the table. “Start talking.”

“You want me.” He sits back in his chair, looking so damn sure of himself. “And I’m not going to be the one to keep you from what you want.”

“No.”

“What?”

You grab your fresh cup of coffee, nod to the god across the table, and stand to leave. “I don’t want you. Thank you for the drink, I’m leaving now.”

“No!” Loki shoots to his feet and grabs your arm, making you jump and wrench your arm from his grip. He quickly drops you and holds his hand up. “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that, please…please stay. Just a second longer.”

Against your better judgment, you slowly sit back down.

“You say you lost the game,” Loki starts, carefully stepping around his words. “Which means you admit to falling in love with me. Yes?”

“Those were the rules.” You drum your fingers on the table, unamused.

“If you have fallen in love with me…then you want me.”

“No.”

Loki’s fist hits the table with a loud thud. “Yes, you do.”

“No.”

“Why not?” The facade cracks and Loki slumps in his chair, shoulders sagging like a defeated man. “At least tell me why, what you mean. Please.”

“You made me a game, Loki.” You can’t help but laugh, humourless and cold. “You literally made any feelings we had for each other into a game, idiot, and now you think that made me fall for you??”

He gives a tiny shrug. “I…competing allows me to win.”

“So you’re afraid of losing?”

“No,” he snaps, and you raise an eyebrow at him that makes him scowl. “No, I’m not afraid of losing. Don’t make me into a child.”

“Look,” you sigh, dropping your forehead to your hand. “If you’re just going to deny everything I say then there’s no point in us talking.”

Arms cross. Lips press together. A wave hitting a seaside cliff, unmoving.

“I just don’t understand,” he finally mutters, and you take a drink as he searches for the right words. “I…I want you.”

“You admit that?”

He hesitates and looks down at the table. “Yes.”

“You made me a game,” you remind him, finishing your breakfast and picking up your bag again. “You made me a game and said you won, but I guess we both lost. Thanks again for the coffee, Loki.”

You’re halfway out the door when a cold hand grabs yours and spins you back around. “Loki, I’m going to be late…”

“I get it.” He brings your hand to his lips and you try not to cringe. “I understand. You’re not a game, and that was my mistake.”

“And?”

The god smiles, a desperate and pleading attempt to show himself to you, getting nothing in return. “You’re not a game, you…you are the prize, coveted by many but won by few—”

“Go home, Loki.”

You’ve pulled your hand from his grip and walked out the door before he can even process what just happened.

* * * *

“I want you!” He’s running, for the first time you’ve seen, he’s running after you and dodging people on the busy sidewalks as he calls after you. “I admit to it, I want you, please—”

You turn on your heel and he nearly crashes into you, chest to chest for a blissful second before your finger is in his face, sharp as your words.

“Why would I want someone who wants me??” You jab your finger into his chest. “Someone who wants me all to themselves, as a prize, a trophy, someone so selfish all they can think of is wanting me—”

“What are you talking about??” Loki feels on the verge of tears; disgusting.

“I don’t want you, Loki.”

“You said you fell for me, said that I won, what is that supposed to mean then??”

“I don’t want you,” you repeat, shaking your head in disbelief at the young god raging in front of you. “I want to love you, Loki, I don’t want you.”

People around the two of you keep pushing, the throng nudging your shoulders as you stare at each other, Loki’s mind racing.

“I’m not a prize for you to win.” You give him a small smile and shoulder your bag. “If all I am to you is something you want, then I don’t think I can love you. Go back home.”

He can’t tear a single word from his throat.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” you laugh and rest a hand on his arm, giving him a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “But you need to grow up. Maybe stop by when you’re mature enough to separate wanting from needing, lust and love, and maybe we can talk.”

Want and need, lust and love...his head spins and the god feels faint.

“I can’t wait for you, though.” Your smile turns sad, at least he likes to think it did. “Go home, Loki.”

Watching you walk away might be the hardest thing Loki has ever had to do.

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

hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me ideas!

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettrosella @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 @mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @vast-ish @blue-automne @galaxycharmed @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @little-scintilla @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai

#loki reader insert #loki x reader fluff #loki x reader angst #loki imagine #boyfriend!loki #loki angst #loki love #young loki #loki requests #loki drabbles #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson

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mazqueen · 5 years

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Hey I apologise because you'll prob grt multiple asks on this. I was impartial to raf v michael, but I'm mad after that ep! Raf was a bastard to Jane. Excuse my language. He didn't show any empathy towards her with her mixed feelings considering the love of her life is back from the dead. Having champagne ready after he think she posted the divorce papers 😖 he makes it like jane is the bad guy especially when michael just wants jane to be happy and tbh I feel he would have more right to be 1/2

2/2 pissed considering he got attacked and presumed dead and his wife is with someone else. I really don't get jennie tho! With raf at the end talking about being 2nd choice it's clear he's gonna be 1st this time, but why don't they write him as a good suitor for Jane? I understand being upset as he's scared Jane isn't going to choose him, but he's so selfish. I saw people stanning him and saying Jane is selfish. He literally chucker her out the house and used Mateo against her! 😵

so I MEAN. okay. this ask is pretty loaded, my answer might get a lil long lmfao so. here we go.

first. re: people saying jane is selfish. because i’ve been seeing this too and it’s the one huge thing that’s been annoying me to no end and here’s why: jane and michael never broke up. michael DIED. “died” whatever. the way you get over someone you broke up with for normal reasons is different from the way you “get over” someone who died. that’s just... i feel like that’s kind of a given. so i don’t know why anyone expects jane’s feelings for michael to be completely erased because realistically? it makes sense that she still does. let me put it this way. now that alba has feelings for jorge, does that mean there won’t be a part of her that’ll always love (her dead husband) mateo? that there won’t be a part of her heart that’ll always belong to him? having that part of her that’ll always love mateo doesn’t mean that she loves jorge less, or that her love for jorge is of less value than her love for mateo or anything like that. it’s just different, and each has it’s own value. and i feel like that’s just how it is when people lose people to death? you don’t just forget about them, you don’t just stop loving them. you move on, you learn to live without them, you learn to find a new normal without them, and maybe even find new happiness but that doesn’t mean the value of the person lost is gone just because they’re gone. the only difference is, michael turned out to not be dead, and so those feelings are getting rehashed. i feel like that’s expected, and idk. all shipping aside i just feel like it makes more sense for jane to be confused than for her to not be confused?

which leads me to: two. rafael’s reaction. i mean listen, i feel like his feelings are understandable. being scared he’ll lose jane, wanting to protect himself from being hurt, etc etc. but i really feel like it could’ve been written better in a way that doesn’t make rafael come across as an asshole. i’ve already said this but: when rafael found out michael’s memories were back, this could’ve happened instead: raf asks jane if this changes things, jane says i don’t know. raf is visibly disappointed but doesn’t say anything about that and gives her a few days to let it sink in and process her feelings and he tells her they can talk about this again then. the few days pass by, jane and rafael have a huge talk. jane says she’s still confused, and rafael is sad and nods, and says he understands that this is difficult for her and he wishes he could sit and wait for her to decide, but that he’s so sorry because he can’t, that as much as he wants, it’s just really hard for him. and then maybe offer to sleep on the couch for the night and not make jane leave immediately...? idk i feel like that’ll still have given people all the feels without raf coming across like a pos who kicked jane out after her mom was just hospitalized. idK MAN BUT I FEEL LIKE I COULD WRITE RAF BETTER THAN JENNIE. lOL. her choices when it comes to raf are just .. idek.

anyway, idt he ‘used’ mateo against jane or anything like that, and tbh i don’t think rafael actually believes jane will choose him (i wanna throw up even saying the word choose like jfc im so sick of this damn triangle and all the choosing)... i mean listen. this is rafael. he was insecure about CHUCK when he was dating petra. chuck. anyone who can be insecure of a trashcan of chuck’s level like that has some seriously wild insecurity issues. raf has always been insecure. but i still wish they’d addressed those insecurities in a different manner. not like this. it looks bad. and this is coming from a person who has always rooted for rafael’s growth... but like. the writing is making it so hard, damn. i stand by this: character growth would be rafael realizing his worth on his own, and that he doesn’t need to compare himself to anyone. character growth isn’t bringing back jane’s dead husband so that jane can choose raf over michael in the end. that’s not the way to address insecurity. like. that’s... ?? it’s not. like i’m sorry i’m just really not about this whole comparing yourself to the dead guy storyline nonsense.

but yeah. idt rafael wanting to protect himself is selfish. it’s the way his feelings were translated into action that’s the problem for me. the feelings are valid. the way he went about expressing those feelings, on the other hand, was a lil cringe-y for me, personally, and like i said, could’ve been written way better.

#ask: jane the virgin #ask: rafael solano #ask #jtv spoilers #anti rafael solano #just in case #not exactly anti raf #but anti the way he's being written lately #but same same #tagging just in case #long post for ts #Anonymous

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baelfire-doyle · 5 years

Photo

[Solo] — Cherished (Iliad: Under siege Event)

After all was said and done, Baelfire was probably one of the only citizens in the city who felt like he did– he was fucking pissed. He didn’t give a flying fuck about the hunters, those piece of shit could rot in hell for all he cared. And yeah, he was worried about his friends and devasted over the losses the city as a whole had had. And he was already helping people rebuilding the city, cause Covaire City was a fucking phoenix– even if you burned it down, it would still be reborn stronger than ever after rising from its ashes.

But all those feelings could never compared to how fucking angry he was at Leo-fucking-pold Kennedy. And what pissed him off even more, was knowing that what the asshole had done, had been actually selfless– though, knowing how the vamp’s brain functioned, they had been nothing selfless about that, more like selfish. And man, he was furious. On top of that, he knew the bastard was very satisfied with himself– and that goddamn bunker house.

Because the truth was that Baelfire had been locked inside Leo’s house since the first hybrid had made an apparition in the streets nearby the Chateau. And that had been it. The vamp had kissed him, then knocked him only for him to wake up in the sealed house. And obviously, he’d tried time and time again to unlock it, but the jackass had changed the security code to make sure the wolf wouldn’t be able to get out until it was safe.

So Baelfire had spend all of his time texting and leaving messages to the vamp, telling him that if the asshole died, he would rip hell open himself, bring him back to life only to kill him again. And there was no way Baelfire would ever admit to Leo that he was grateful that he’d care so much about him that he’d gone to such length to protect him, or how much his anger had helped him cope with how terrified he’d been for his Black Rook…

And even less admit, how happy he’d felt when he had seen his shadow, heard and smelled him, or felt his cold lips against his.

Instead, he’d punched him and called him an asshole, only to have Leo roar with laughter.

They were alive, and he smiled, just a lil.

@undead-kennedy

#ccitytask005 #ccitytasks #ccitysolo #Solo:#c: LeoK #Leofire:#Yet the guy was stuck inside for pretty much the whole time XD

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wilhelmjfink · 6 years

Text

The Great Divide - Chapter 8

I thought we were on chapter 7...

gonna try something new w/ these chapters in hopes that maybe they’ll get more notes! i’m gonna make a masterlist here for it tonight hopefully.... so the chapters will be in there along w/ the cover photo creds instead of hyperlinks b/c apparently that has something to do with it being searched.......... so whatever :-)

Previously: “I think you’re special, too, Riley.” Lidia leaned forward and used a tattered rag to comfortingly wipe away her tears. “And I don’t think that this is the end of your story. You just need to have hope. You can’t give up on Daryl.”

Rick knew Daryl well enough to always stay one step ahead of him.

And it was a good thing that he did, because the second that Warner decided to stop talking and instead offered a sly smile at the mention of Riley’s name, Daryl lunged at him.

Michonne immediately went to step in but Rick had already been anticipating it, though that didn’t make it much easier for him for control the man thrashing in his arms, trying his best to prevent him from reaching the stranger that sat in the corner before them helplessly.

It didn’t taken much to get Daryl to snap — it never had, especially when it came to Riley. But Warner obviously knew something; it was written all over his face. But he’d been scared when he’d woken up, bound and confused surrounded by three strangers after getting attacked by Daryl once already. If he didn’t learn to control his anger, Rick was worried he might just murder him — accidentally or otherwise — and that would leave them back at square one: absolutely clueless.

Riley had scolded him several times about losing his temper so violently, though she wasn’t any better at controlling her own. And he usually listened to her when she warned him, but she wasn’t here right now to stop him, and it was all because of the bastard in front of him.

“He knows somethin’, Rick!” Daryl growled, still trying half heartedly to escape from his friends grip. He was like a rabid wolf, snarling and gnashing his teeth in anger. “I’m gonna tear that smug look right off that fucker’s face!”

“How do you expect him to tell us what he knows if you break his jaw?” Rick responded firmly, losing his patience due to already having explained it earlier. He didn’t blame Daryl, though; the situation was infuriating in and of itself and the fact that they had a potential goldmine of information about Riley’s disappearance that sat in front of them refusing to speak only made it that much harder to retain his composure.

He was a cop. He’d done this a hundred times, if not more. Everybody had a breaking point... it was just a matter of finding it.

“Listen to me,” Rick sidestepped into Daryl’s point of view and made him focus, the snarl on his face not disappearing from his features and his blazing eyes not softening. “Guys like this, they all have a trigger — all of ‘em. We’ll get him to crack. Trust me. And gettin’ them to crack, well...” he threw a glance over his shoulder at Warner who hadn’t yet moved. “That’s the fun part.”

After a long moment of consideration Daryl finally nodded stiffly, clearly not thrilled or impressed with the lecture but stopping himself regardless. He hoped for Rick’s sake that the process of getting Warner to break was as fun as he said it would be. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be very long until he truly couldn’t stop himself and just completely lost it and they would be left with nothing once again, and it would be all his fault.

So they gagged him again, making sure it was tight enough to silence him but not too tight as to suffocate him, and waiting for the others to show up.

Warner sat quietly when they finally did Michonne wasn’t positive he noticed even when she turned around and closed the curtain in front of her.

“Rick, they’re here.”

He peered through the sheer fabric secretively, observing the crew that had slowly begun to show up one by one at the intersection at the end of the road. And sure enough, the black vehicles with a mysterious symbol painted on the side had arrived and parked in formation, waiting patiently for their friend to return with an innocent victim.

“That’s the same thing painted on what’s-his-names hoodie,” Daryl observed, peering over Rick’s shoulder at the crowd beneath him. “S’gotta be them, Rick. They know where Riley is.”

“That also means Warner really is with them.”

Daryl has already figured that, wanting to believe it was true regardless of whether or not it really was. It gave him something to latch onto, giving him a small spark of hope that he might actually see his girl again.

“So, he really does know something... so, he belongs to us now.”

Daryl and Michonne were both surprised at the tone of Rick’s voice: dark and sinister, his anger bubbling to the surface as his adrenaline kicked in at the confirmation. He was seconds away from knocking Warner unconscious himself then, making his way over to him to tighten the gag around his mouth in an effort to reassure that he wouldn’t try to make any noise while his friends stood there waiting, watching on curiously. Rick didn’t even care at that point — he was sure they would leave after they decided that Warner was dead or gone... it was just the type of people that they were.

He also had a solid feeling now that Warner was aware of the whole situation, if he wasn't entirely responsible himself. But when he watched the group outside disperse for a short minute, hardly attempting to look for their teammate beyond the hotel building he observed them from, they returned to their vans and gave up. Just like that.

Now confident, Rick took it upon himself to release the built up anger he’d had to bury all morning by swinging at the stranger they had tied up, his fist colliding with his jaw loudly, sending him down to the rough carpet of the hotel room floor unconscious.

Daryl couldn’t help but smirk.

After the time they’d locked Jesus in the cell only for him manage to sneak his way out, they’d fool-proofed it, and Warner sat silently in the corner. He’d remained silent the entire trip home and, as frustrated and angry as Daryl was, he’d made an effort not to show it, knowing it would only encourage Warner’s smug silence.

And though it was driving him mad he took it as a good sign — a sign that he knew something.

And something was better than nothing, which is where he still currently stood.

“There’s lotsa ways to make people talk,” Rick said to the crew of five that sat before him at the long oak dining table in their makeshift city hall. “And not all of them need to involve violence.”

“I don’t want any use of violence,” Deanna said pointedly from her spot at the head of the table, arms crossed. Rick elected to have her there overseeing their meeting and give input on the thoughts and opinions, considering her position in the community. Her input mattered to him and his leadership mattered to her; he’d made it very clear he had only good intentions for the people of Alexandria... and they needed Rick’s guidance.

“That might be the only way to get him to talk,” Michonne argued.

But Deanna wouldn’t budge. “No — that is not what Alexandria is about.”

“Ya don’t get to choose what yer about anymore,” Daryl barked at her after having tried to keep his mouth shut in the matter. The whole process was infuriating him; his natural instincts were yelling at him to run outside of the gate and not stop until he found her. He paced back and forth in the hall, anxious and growing angrier with each passing minute. “Not in this world. Dude ain’t gonna just offer up what he knows just ‘cause we pinky-promise to let ‘em go free.”

“Daryl’s right,” Michonne agreed, staring intently at Deanna across the table. She was just as angry as anybody about the whole situation it seemed, leaning more towards Daryl in way of support, knowing confidently that Warner wouldn’t budge unless they made him. “People are selfish, now more than ever. If you want Alexandria to survive, you need to learn how to handle yourselves other ways besides sitting around a table to chit-chat with somebody who wants everything that you have and doesn’t give a damn if he has to kill you to take it.”

Deanna only frowned. “There are other ways to communicate with people without hurting them. We aren’t animals — we are civil!”

“Ya know what? Yer right.” Daryl’s voice had risen and he was spitting venom in his words, obviously fed up with her stubbornness and unwillingness to negotiate with them. “S’a big waste of time, Rick. Do you think we should bake ‘em a tray of cookies or somethin’ instead? That might help.”

“Daryl...”

“Nah, nah, she’s gotta point!” He stopped and slammed his empty chair into the table, rounding the group as they sat quietly in front of him. “Or maybe we can just hug it outta him.”

Deanna, who sat clearly unamused at Daryl’s sarcasm, followed him with her eyes as he begun his pacing, trying to suppress his growing fury.

“That is not what I meant. You’re being ridiculous.”

He whipped around and stepped toward her, eyes narrowed, arm swinging. “I’m bein’ ridiculous? Did ya even look at the son of a bitch? We have no idea what he’s capable of, and there’s lots more of ‘em! And say we do let ‘em go after he caves; you didn’t see those bastards lined up at the end of the street with their rifles n’ armor n’ shit, lady. They ain’t fuckin’ friendly, and the lil’ asshole is just gonna run back home, tell ‘em all about Alexandria and ‘what yer about’, n’ then they’ll be knockin’ on the door the next day and I’m pretty sure they ain’t gonna sit around holdin’ our hands n’ singin’ Kum By Yah, all worried about ‘bein’ civil’.”

Daryl was fuming and Rick straightened up, again finding himself anticipating the tantrum his friend was going throwing, regardless of how correct his points were. He watched as Daryl continued to walk briskly back and forth, a scowl on his face, noticeably trying to maintain a level head and utterly failing. “Ya think that someone who literally steals people gives a shit about your god damn morals? I’d bet he don’t!”

Rick stayed silent, having been persuaded by Daryl’s outburst, but was still looking at Deanna and waiting for her response knowing she couldn’t argue.

But still, she only sighed. “Daryl...”

“If y’all are just gonna sit at this table n’ pray for her, to hell with ya. I ain’t gonna wait around for him to spill his guts n’ if y’all don’t let me beat it outta him, then I’m gonna go find her my damn self.”

And with that, he stormed out of the room, slamming the heavy door loudly behind him.

yall know i loooveee me some angry Daryl :)

#The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x ofc #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead drabble

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millennium-rings-spirit-archived · 5 years

Text

The “Give a Shitty Description of Your Verses” Challenge

((This got SO LONG omg--))

Alive: Evil spirit gets a life

Young Again: Evil spirit gets another chance but becomes a toddler

Pokemon Trainer: Local Pokemon Trainer is possessed

Reversed: Lil shit is Terrible. Spirit tries to make him Not Terrible.

Bonded: Spirit catches friendship

All Alone: Evil spirit figures out that regret is Kind Of A Thing

Akatsuki: Selfish bastard joins a bunch of assholes for magic things

Different Host: Your life is going to be painful

Not Quite Zorc: Revival goes wrong

Guardian: Cinnamon roll tries to raise sinnamon roll better

A Better Life: Evil spirit catches feelings

Evil Again: Happy (former) spirit becomes evil

Student of a Warrior: Star demon trains a child

Battle for King: Shadow demon child tries to become ruler

Great Sage: Traveling mage brings along a formerly evil toddler

Small Spirit: Tiny spirit tries to be threatening

Young Spirit: Toddler gets killed, wants revenge

Pharaoh: Scared chaotic good spirit wants to help

Change of Heart: Local cinnamon roll turns out to be a demon

Royal Thief: Aknadin gets the boot and pharaoh adopts last Kul Elna villager

Pirate King: Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of Fuck You

Ka-Infused: Creepy monster spirit

I Shouldn’t Be a Parent: Evil spirit has to babysit

Yu-Gi-Oh! SD: Chibi dumbass

Snatcher’s Minion: Asshole spirit ends up working under a slightly less worse asshole

I’m Back: Karma

Dark Personality: Marik expect not

Season Zero: Back to the beginning

How Do Parenting?: Thief becomes dad

Ryou Has Had Enough: Karma and thensome

Experiment: “Also cute and fluffy!”

Lone Twin: Sad boy, sadder spirit

Twin: Car accidents hurt everyone

Did You Miss Me?: KARMA

Slow Revenge: Slowly rising retribution

I Don’t Wanna Be Zorc: Poor Ryou

Triplets: Twin verses but with Thief King

Monsters: Birb and snek

Bloody Hell: pun Vampire with almost-dhampir descendant

Irken: “FILTHY HUMANS”

Too Nice: Alien gets booted out of the empire, makes home where he got booted to

Prince of Thieves: Resident good boi becomes thief

Sealed: Orichalcos but with Ryou

Roboticizer: Beep boop

Poe Collectors: iipootaat maak what the fuck even is Ryou

Other Survivor: two sweet kids lose their homes

R.Y.O.U.: Program kid and virus spirits

Eternal Solitude: Trapped sad boi

Little Minion: Happy little shadow child

Death Wish: FOOOOOOOL!

#meme game

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tumblunni · 6 years

Text

What do you guys think about the names Dustin and Darcy for my protagonists in Let's Go?

Cos i really wanted to play the co op mode thing by myself, just so i can pretend this role in the plot is filled by two siblings and have a bit of fun roleplaying that. But i dunno yet how the co-op works and whether you'd be able to customize the avatar of the second player or if its just the default trainer? Or can you only play co-op if you have two separate games? Im planning to buy the other version anyway once i get more money, so it could be fun to play my first version with sibling one and then the second playthru is sibling two's turn to shine!

Oh and the whole reason i wanted to do this is cos i wanna try out the customization features to make some ocs now that there's no competitive online stuff unless you pay a subscription fee (LOL NO THANKS). Like..i always felt like i HAD to make my character me in xy/sumo/usum, otherwise its like lying online? But of course i cant actually make me because theres no nonbinary option or even remotely ambiguous outfits for either gender. And you cant have wild hair colours while i dye my hair 24/7 irl lol. Its silly cos like 95% of the gym leaders and other characters ingame have anime hair colours yet the player has to be normal? So yeah i cpuldnt really enjoy making this innacurate defanged version of myself yet i didnt feel like i was allowed to just make up a new character either. Closest i could do was give myself white hair like my old trainersona when i was 12, lol. I mean i guess thats my 'real hair colour' underneath the dye right now, if you think about it that way?

OH GOD PIKACHU CAN HAVE A LITTLE TUXEDO AND BOWLER HAT HOLY FUCK IM SORRY TO INTERRUPT THIS BUT I WAS WATCHING THE IGN REVIEW AND THEY SHOWED PIKA BOWLER HAT PLEASE GO GOOGLE THAT VIDEO JUST FOR THAT 1 SECOND OF NEW FOOTAGE OF MY BEAUTIFUL CLASSY BOYE

okay where was i

Yeah! I think sibling trainers could be a good and unique way to handle a rival! Like having them be your sibling already establishes that rivalry. But it can be a soft and nice rivalry! I wanna go with that fun version rather than the full on angry exaggerated sibling rivalries you often see in kids media. Like i know that some people legit dont get on with their siblings and some people can even have a very gary esque full on rivalry thats sorta 'love to hate' or like..tsundere pretending you hate them. But personally i never had experience with that, i can never relate to those 'tfw u hate ur sibling and theyre always an asshole but lolll u love them anyway' posts. I only got to live with my little sister for a little while due to the catastrophe of abusive parenthood that was my childhood, and i lost contact with her forever when she was very young so i doubt she'd even remember me. *sigh* But like i don't think i only love her so much because i miss her! People say newborns and toddlers are the most bratty so like you'd think if i was gonna ever find her 'annoying' i would have done it back then. I was always just mega proud of her and whenever she'd be 'bratty' i'd be cheering her on and trying to protect her from mom. And when she'd try and pull pranks on me or practise play-fighting or whatever i was just like 'lol thats legit funny' and taking play-falls so she felt better about herself. Like we didnt have much power in that household so i felt like encouraging her pretending to be a wrestler would help her feel like she had some sort of control in some part of her life i guess? And just i wished i was allowed to roughhouse and run around and be all 'unladylike' and just enjoy BEING A KID when i was a kid, yknow? I always had legit fun being with her and legit enjoyed it and was legit proud and legit never annoyed. I just dont understand 'yeah she's annoying but i love her anyway'. I was only ever her rival as a play-rival to help encourage her to like.. Enjoy the things she enjoyed. Feel like someone else cared. I only ever acted like 'ha ha baby stuff yeah sure i hate hanging out with my sister" cos i thought i was SUPPOSED TO. I always felt so guilty doing it and so dissappointed cos id rather hang out with her than be a boring stereotypical teen tbh. I dunno, maybe this isnt typical for siblings and its just a sign of how badly we were raised? I was just real fuckin lonely and absolutely loved having a family member who loved me for the first time since my grandma died. Same reason i always used to act all 'i am too cool i totally am not soft for my lil sister' around my lil sister's dad. I really wanted him to love me too! I used to say swear words at him cos i thougjt he would thibk i was Cool And Adult?? I have soooo many cringe moments from that phase of my childhood. Man it hurts to think that i never actually did get to become that positive influence that protected my sister from my mum and let her know she was loved. Cos i was sent to live with my dad when she was like 5ish? And never saw her again and now im too scared to try and reach out to her again because 1: she probably doesnt even remember me, 2: theres a chance she believes my mum saying i was some horrible asshole who abandoned the family, 3: even bigger chance that contacting her could mean my mum finding me again and big fuckin risk of further abuse. Plus the awkwardness of introducing my trans self when she'd remember me as her sister and all. Sigh! All i can do is hope that her cool dad eventually got custody of her, and that he didnt turn out to be a secret bastard like when i met my own dad. He seemed good, but then again i was just a lil kid and my dad seemed good at first. Sighhhhhh...

SO UMM YEAH WOW I MADE MYSELF SAD

Anyway the point is that whenever i write siblings i'd rather write 100% unapologetic super loving love cos its wish fullfillment for me. This is also why in/cest shipping is a massive beserk button for me, good wholesome family relationships are REAL FUCKIN IMPORTANT and how DARE you corrupt that shit! Some people would fuckin KILL to have that wholesome family!!

Anyway lol thats why i'd like a Wholesome Rivalry for these sibling ocs! Like they challenge each other to contests along the way just for fun, and they react all 'wow my sis is the BEST' when you beat them, so hard feelings at all. And you dont JUST do rival stuff but also sometimes just hang out and have fun cos you missed each other. And if anyone threatens your sibling then THAT is the only time you see the Serious Sibling Power! Rival moments: ha ha lol bet ya cant beat me ooo im a scary villain LOL I CANT KEEP A STRAIGHT FACE HAHA! Giovanni punches your brother: *stony cold death glare from hell as tricksy prank sis turns into an unstoppable vengeance engine* Oh, but also the only other time they'd be serious is in their final battle together! Like most of the 'rivalry' is just competing to make the adventure fun and to help each other get stronger. But if sis/bro ever actually legit said they really want to fight to find out who's the best, and its like..important to help their self confidence, then i think bro/sis would respect that and go all out. Taking a fall and letting them win would be the most disrespectful thing of all! Oh, but i do think there would be one kind of battle like that during the story? Like in one of the more low stakes faux-rival fights the sibling actually does try and let you win, and the challenge is to try and lose against all odds. High stakes super failure battle!!! Imagine the evil team in the background like 'wtf' as these two run the most aggressively slow race of all time! XD

Oh and i kinda thought about different personalities for the two of them based on who you pick? Like i did like that aspect about brendan/may in RSE compared to other 'unpicked option becomes rival' characters in later games that didnt even have one personality let alone two. It just sucks that the personalities they decided to give them were 'female rival is super self concious and thinks youre better than her because youre a boy' and 'male rival is super ego and thinks he's better than you because he's a boy'. Boooo!

So instead of that the personalities i was thinking for these two would be less sexist lol. Male sibling Dustin is basically Wally so far? I need to develop him a bit more to make him a bit distinct, i mean its not like every single shy dude is identical. I'm thinking maybe mix him with all the wasted potential in Brendan? Like in the game they slightly hint at him having the ONE non stereotypical trait of liking cute teddy bears, and that made me think about how much better his whole plot would have been if it actually criticized his sexism and said that he only behaves that way cos he's overcompensating for being bullied for being 'feminine', yknow? And then in the manga they actually DO write him as super feminine, and even as a contest star who loves fashion and dressing up his pokemon! But then GAHHH they present it as some sort of fuckin 'character flaw', like he's shown to be selfish and superficial because of it. And the backstory is that him and the female protagonist used to be 'normal' until a traumatic event. Brendan was a Natural Fighting Prodigy until he saved his female friend from a wild pokemon and was so traumatized that he never wanted to fight again, while she wanted to learn to fight so she'd never need to be protected again. But this is not only presented as Wrong Ways To Be Gender but also like.. Fighting their natural instinct which still comes through?? Like male protag hasnt fought in YEARS yet whenever he's forced to fight he's just magically better at it than female protag who's been practising all these years to become his equal. Ha ha silly girl you can never achieve that! All you get is this patronizing 'well if you just tryyyyy girly things im sure you'll like it' plot and then you get rescued by him in the end because OF COURSE you do. Sigh! I cant believe they made me hate that pairing even more than the games did! So yeah i dont really wanna write Dustin as a jerkass who's secretly got synpathetic motives of internalized homophobia/sexism, cos i feel thats a plot very specific to my perceptuons of Brendan and id basically just have to make Dustin a clone of him and he wouldnt be able to shine on his own merits. Instead i'm just thinking of writing him as a 100% sensitive soul, and he still faces predjudice for not being that bigoted idea of an 'ideal man' but really the fact he doesnt bow down to their demands proves that he's the bravest person here.

And then I'm thinking maybe the female sibling Darcy is the older one and is a bit "gary ish"? Like eitjer way you still have a friendly and loving siblingness, but she's a bit more of a sass who is tsundere about admitting she loves her bro. But i dont think she's the cold or grumpy sort of tsundere, more like a trickstery tomboy? Bombastic loki jock sis! She can only be a bit abrasive with her bro cos she wants to teach him to be tough even when she's not there to protect him. But sometimes she can mess it up and make him feel like he has to change his personality in order to be tough, rather than letting him know she supports him in being "unmasculine" and just wants to help him find the confidence to stand up to people who bully him for it. Like she feels like she is 'weaker' than him in the sense that she worries too much about what people will think if she expresses her real emotions, yknow? Like theyre both suffering from toxic masculinity! He's suffering from the standard form where men who are too 'soft' are beaten down into that mould. Ans she's suffering from the problem where 'masculine' girls feel like they have to be '100% masculine' in order to be allowed to be themselves at all. Like back when i was a kid and before i came out as trans i always used to try and pretend to like sports ans like..cliche macho shit where you Cant Admit You Care About Your Friends and also i wasnt allowed to like ANY feminine things at all. I had to either follow the stereotype of femininity entirely or follow the opposite stereotype, i wasnt allowed to just reject stereotypes and like what i actually like. So yeah me realizing i wasnt really a girl has led to me embracing more 'girly' things than back when i thought i was one! So i think Darcy would have a similar arc but like..the cis equivelant? Just finds people who arent such judgmental pricks and stops having to conform to either of those stereotypes in order to keep fake friends who dont really give a shit about her. She can have a plot about both forced feminine and masculine stereotypes being equally limiting, rather than that shitty 'being masculine is a prison uwu every woman will be happier embracing her love of makeup' shit. That dominant narrative just made me feel like i was somehow wrong about myself whenever i didnt like 100% Of Sports All The Time, i must be somehow girly if i liked even ONE girly thing yet i needed hundreds of proofs if i wanted to be masculine. And like i wasnt just allowed to be neither! I wasnt allowed to like parts of both! I wasnt allowed to BE GODDAMN TRANS!!! So yeah i dunno if i'd go whole hog and make this character a trans man or a nonbinary person tho? I think she's just actually a cis girl who happens to be sporty and brash and likes a lot of 'masculine' fashion and hobbies. And she's just been made to feel self concious about it, as if she cant possibly REALLY be that unless she likes Every Single Boy Thing and wins at Every Single Challenge. Does anyone else remember that shit too? The girls have to win Every sports game against the boys in order to be 'one of the boys' but if you lose even one of them it somehow proves that you're inferior. Even though the boys lost 50 billion games to you and that doesnt prove theyre inferior! Like man she has sooooo many 'gary rivals' in her school life, thats why she loves going on this adventure with a kind brother rival who actually respects her! So her resolution would just be her staying the same but being more confident about it and saying fuk u to those fake friends. Same as her brother's plot, just they both face different specifics to the way this sexism affects them, yknow?

Oh but yeah when i did finally learn about LGBT stuff and realize i was trans it was Big Amazing cos even in the rare stories about Its Okay To Be Yourself it still left me feeling weirdly empty when the girl decides that yes she does wanna be a girl in the end. So i get that these plots might come off as queerbaiting if i write them badly? I need to make sure to make it clear that these characters 100% want to be seen as this gender and its just other people being fuckfaces and trying to define what their gender has to mean. I think maybe i'll try and mitigate this potential misunderstanding by adding different sorts of lgbt content. And, well, also cos i just want lgbt content in all of my stories because i am lgbt, of course! I'm 100% sure that Darcy is gay, and i think also maybe possibly Dustin is trans? Like, his plot is about being mocked for being a 'feminine' boy, but its also even more personal for him because he's a trans boy and he feels like he needs to change his personality in order to pass/he isnt really real because his personality doesnt fit the stereotypical image of a man. Like if you'd looked at the two of them back when they were identical twins, you probably would have expected Darcy to end up being trans if you were the sort of person who believes those basic ass stereotypes about 'boys who play with barbies and girls who play with trucks'. Or i mean maybe its the other way around and Darcy is a trans girl who still has a 'masculine' personality according to stereotypes? Or even both of them are trans and both face being told that they arent real because they dont fit the perfect stereotype of a trans person according to cis perceptions? Or maybe i'm overcomplicating things with all of this and it'd just muddy the message i guess. I might just keep it to them both being cis but also both of them like girls. And i can always apply my trans and other LGBT headcanons to other characters along their adventure.

Anyway LOL im rambling too much!

#lets go bunni #bunni plays lets go

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a-gay-bloodmage · 6 years

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My first Aelon fic!! This was so fun to write!!

For the wonderful @thedisc0panda!

5. Soft kisses on the neck that make you giggle and Person A kisses you more on the neck just to hear you laugh

((From this post!))

—He Knew He Liked It —

Pairing: Dorian Pavus x Male Lavellan

Pairing Type: M/M

Words: 1,571

Warnings: It might seem a lil NSFW but it’s really not, Someone’s Ticklish and Not Happy About It, But It’s Very Cute, I’m Not One-Hundred Percent Set on How to Write Aelon but I Liked This, He’s a Cutie Patootie, My Angry Scotty Boy and His Weirdo Roman Boyfriend

Dorian peered over the edge of his book, squinting to see what his love was doing across the room. Lavellan was bent over a rarely-used desk, freckled face pressed against the wood as he attempted to get a paperweight aligned just right with the others. Dorian felt a smile creep onto his face as he watched the elf's backside wiggle in concentration over his little task. As annoying as it could be sometimes, his little Lavellan's obsession with perfection was endearing and downright adorable at times like these.

He placed his book on the side table beside the armchair he'd claimed as his own, and kept his steps light as he walked over to where Lavellan worked. Well, Dorian wanted to call Lavellan Aelon, but the Inquisitor was insistent that his last name be exclusively what he was called. Apparently Aelon wasn't a very pretty name in elven. Dorian didn't speak much elven. He just found it cute. Especially when Lavellan said it in his cute little northern Dalish accent.

"How are the paperweights treating you?" Dorian whispered into Lavellan's ear.

"Dorian!" Aelon hissed, turning his head back to look at the Vint. "Stop sneakin' up on me while I'm fixin' things!" Dorian smiled. He couldn't help how cute he found the Inquisitor when he got all bristled up over touches. His dark green eyes sparkled in the low, orange light of the library.

"You've been fixing that desk for half an hour," Dorian chuckled, pressing his hips against Lavellan's, his hands gently gripping the elf's slender waist.

"It's been five minutes!"

"And how could I have read two entire chapters in five minutes, amatus?" Lavellan blew a small huff out his flat elven nose, ginger eyebrows creasing together.

"Fine. I'm done. That weight was just botherin' me," he mumbled. "It was too far to the left."

"Mhmm," Dorian hummed, one hand moving to play with the elf's ginger hair, finger carefully twirling around a large silver lock. "I believe you."

"Good. Now get off ma ass," he groaned. "You know I don't like that, Dorian."

"It's such a shame," Dorian sighed, slowly folding his body over the elf's. "You have a wonderful little behind." Lavellan was a short man—even by elven standards—and Dorian loved it. Even if it meant he was sometimes yanked down by his shoulders when a disgruntled elf wanted a kiss.

"Dorian..."

"Have you ever noticed how good my name sounds in your accent?" Dorian grinned, kissing the back of Lavellan's ear. "Doooorian."

"Why you-! Y-you little-! Dorian!" Lavellan squirmed under the kisses, his lean hips wiggling against Dorian's. "Not the ears!" Even in his protests, Dorian knew that Lavellan wasn't exactly against whatever the Vint did. Affection was still such a foreign concept to him. To both of them.

"Not ears," Dorian said in an amused whisper. "Of course, amatus." His hand moved from the top of Lavellan's head to the messy ends of his hair, brushing it out of the way to expose his neck. An obvious shiver ran down Lavellan's spine as Dorian's fingers brushed over his mess of freckles. He leaned the rest of the way over, pressing his lips against warm skin.

It was a different kind of squirming this time.

Lavellan gripped the edge of the desk as he shivered, lean muscles twitching underneath Dorian's hands. A high, strained sound was drawn through tightly shut lips.

"Are you... ticklish?" Dorian asked, pausing his soft kisses.

"No!" The way the elf's floppy ears twitched made it obvious he was lying. That was the best part about having an elf as a lover. Lying was never their strong suit once you secretly learned to read them. And Lavellan was an open book.

Of course, Dorian Pavus was well aware of what some might assume if they looked over to see a Tevinter mage bent over a squirming elf and grinning like a maniac.

But he didn't particularly care right now.

"Dorian!" Lavellan hissed, his lips quirking up in a shaky smile. "You bastard!" Kiss after kiss was placed on the back of his freckled neck. "I'm- I'm gonna mess up the desk!"

"Half an hour of work," Dorian chuckled, kissing Lavellan again. "I'm quite aware!"

"Fuckin'- Dorian!" The library was thankfully—though only mostly—empty this late at night, so hardly a soul's research was interrupted by the high and choppy elven laughter coming from the second floor. Warm brown hands creeped underneath Lavellan's loose shirt, making him dissolve into giggles as soon as fingers brushed against his stomach. "I hate you!"

"No you don't," Dorian sang, teeth flashing in his wide smile. The rarity of Lavellan's smile was what made it so precious, though Dorian surely wouldn't complain if he saw it more often. It was adorable—slightly crooked teeth framed by full, pink lips.

"Oh, I will if you don't- don't stop that!" He choked out through laughter. "Dorian Pavus, you- you fuckin' asshole!"

"Alright, alright, I concede," Dorian laughed, raising his hands up after kissing Lavellan one last time.

"Stupid bastard," Lavellan said, his breathing heavy. "Tickle me again and I'll chop your offensive little hands off."

"Oh please, you love my hands. They're perfect."

Lavellan huffed. Dorian's hands were too symmetrical for the perfectionist to ever even think of destroying. "I'm mad at you."

"No you're not," Dorian said, smiling as he sat back down in his armchair.

"Yes I am. I don't like ticklin'." He was still bent over the desk, exhausted from laughing. Dorian was sure his jaw was killing him. The elf wasn't exactly known for practicing his smile in the mirror.

"Do you want to sit down?" Dorian patted his lap. "Come on. It's comfy over here."

"You'll tickle me again. You shems are all selfish, evil liars."

"There's a nice warm breeze blowing in from the window at a forty-five degree angle."

Lavellan was on his lap in seconds, curled up and looking delightfully content as the soft wind blew down his freckled nose. "Keep your hands to yourself," he said, adjusting his legs to the optimal angle over the arm of the chair. "An' scoot back an inch into the chair." Dorian smiled as he adjusted himself, resting his chin on Lavellan's shoulder. "Okay. Now sit still."

"Mhmm," Dorian hummed. One hand rested lightly on Lavellan's thigh, the other stationed on the free arm of the armchair.

The silver-streaked ginger hair blew gently in the breeze, tickling at Dorian's face.

"Hey. Shem," he whispered, voice slightly obscured by a yawn.

"Yes, amatus?"

"I'll get you back later. That's a threat. When y'er least expectin' it."

"Oh, how I do adore your threats, my dear," Dorian smiled, looking up at Lavellan's dark, pine green eyes.

"It's all fun an' games until I-" He interrupted himself with a yawn. "Until I get'cha."

"I eagerly await my getting, then," Dorian smiled.

"Knew you'd say that," he mumbled. "Smug... bastard."

Dorian was content to let Lavellan fall asleep in his lap, even as his legs went numb. He ran his hands through Lavellan's silky hair, smirking to himself as the elf wiggled in his sleep as fingers brushed against the back of his sensitive neck. He smelled like pine and static electricity. A strange combination, but Dorian liked it nonetheless.

After a while of nothingness, Dorian decided that since Lavellan wasn't going to wake within the hour, he'd just carry him up to bed. Thankfully, the elf weighed next to nothing.

"Sleep well, amatus," he whispered, brushing a stray lock of silver hair from his freckled forehead. He smiled, leaning down to press a light kiss to the side of Lavellan's neck.

"Fuck you," Lavellan whispered, sleepily opening his eyes a sliver.

"I can't believe I carried you up five flights of stairs while you were awake."

"You love me, stupid."

"So unfortunately true," Dorian smiled, shaking his head. He began to strip himself of clothing. "I get to sleep here now as repayment."

"No-" Lavellan stopped himself. "That's fair." Dorian carefully folded his clothing and placed it next to the bedside table, just as Lavellan liked it. He didn't mind the little extra things he had to do if it made his Inquisitor happy. He motioned to wrap his arms around the elf only to get soft hands sleepily—but certainly insistently—push him to face the other way.

"I am far too tall for this," Dorian chuckled as Lavellan pressed his lithe body against Dorian's back.

"I like holdin' you," he muttered against Dorian's bare skin. Warm, dark hands wrapped around the cold, freckled ones on his chest, holding him close.

"Oh, I don't mind," he smiled, his eyes gently falling closed. "Though you are quite cold."

"You're too warm."

"Perhaps we'll equal out in a few minutes," Dorian laughed quietly, pressing back slightly against Lavellan's body. "Only time will tell."

"Just hush up," Lavellan whispered, obviously not actually annoyed. "I'm tryin' to fall asleep."

"Of course." His foot gently ran along Lavellan's calf, making the elf shiver. "Goodnight, Aelon."

Lavellan was quiet for a second. "Night, Dorian."

Sometimes, Dorian found their quiet moments the best of them all. It wasn't a chaotic battle full of magic and the clanging of swords, nor did it leave him weak-kneed and slick with passionate sweat, but it made his heart race just as fast.

And he knew he liked it.

#original content #aelon lavellan #dorian pavus #dorian x inquisitor #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #fanfiction #this was fun!! i like writing ael but he's tooough to write #i'm not perfect with writing neurodivergent people like him so feel free to tell me if i'm doing anything wrong!#he's pretty ocd and anxious and has quite a few anger issues but i'm trying not to play into sterotypes toooo much #he's obsessively organized and even if it's a ''stereotypical'' trait he does have it and i'm trying not to make it all he is #because i know a lot of people with ''ocd'' characters just make them super organized and obsessive with perfection #tell me if i can do anything better! i am super willing to take constructive criticism!#and dorian def doesn't find it annoying like fuck that he loves his bf ocd and anxiety and anger included because that's who he is #he is a sweet bf willing to go along with whatever makes ael comfortable #also: the reason ael hates his name is because it means ''less than good/less good'' in elven ((ael means ''less'' and ''on'' means good))#his name aids in making him insecure so he's not a fan of it at all #dorian doesn't know this and it's not like ael will tell him why ((he's afraid of looking like an idiot...))#man i went on for a while in the tags...... whoops #anyway thank you for the request!! i loved writing ael's first fic!!

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davisiiiclarence · 6 years

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HOPE ALL YOUR GANSTER ASS LIVING GO UP IN GUNSMOKE FOOL JUST LIKE YOUR DOG ASS LYNCH WITH YOUR LYING ON ARABIANS O FUCK BOYZ OF YOUR BEGINNING TO THEH END OF YOUR DOGS LIFEVE!!! NOW SHOVE THAT UP YOUR KEYSTURNS AND STOP BLAMING OTHERS ABOUT YOUR STUCK UP IN THE ASS LIL MAN O STANKING ASS TIFFANY SCOTT HARRISON! FUCK YOU ISAIAH WILLIAMS AND YOUR DUMB ASS BASTARD BABY DADDY CORY TERREL LEE WHOM STUCK THAT FUCK UP IN THE HEAD ASS BOY BY MY MOTHER'S HOUSE WITH OLD ASS HOLES THAT DON'T LIKE TO TAKE HIS OWN FUCKING CHARGE FOR BRINGING THAT FUCKING PURSE OF HERS TO SHREVEPORT FOR DOG ASS CHARMAINE MONIQUE GAINES OL BACKSTABBING BITCH AND NO FOR LOOKING FOR MY DAUGHTER BITCH BECAUSE IF YOU EVER GO ON MY ACCOUNTS AND LIVELIHOOD TO ASK MY FORIEN FAMILY WHERE SHE'S AT AGAIN, THEN I WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD CUT THE FUCK OFF CAUSE YOUR A BITCH TO TRY TO CHALLENGE ME AFTER. I WILL HAVE YOUR DEVILISH ASS MURDERED BY FORCE FOR FUCKING WITH ME OL SELFISH BASTARD ASSHOLES!!! AND THE !!! IS WORD OF FAITH BBBIIITTTCCCHHHH AND EVER TOLD THAT ASS HOLE BROTHER OF MINES TO PULL OUT THE GUN ON ME WILL HAVE ALL DEAD BEFORE I EVER TAKE THE CROSS AGAIN OR TAKE BULLETS AGAIN FOR YOUR PREJUDICY OL SELFISH BASTARD BITCH! NOW THAT IS ALL I HAVE ENOUGH TO SAY TO DOGS AND STOP BREAKING MY GMAIL ACCOUNT BEFORE I SEND DEATH TO YOUR DUMB ASS BASTARD DOORS LIKE I DID TO YOUR FAKE ASS RIVALRY FAMILIES ALL OVER THIS GREAT NATION OL STUPID DUMB ASS NIGGERAMISSES!

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goron-king-darunia · 4 years

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Tagged (by vague gesture of “if you wanna do it, TAG!”) by @biophilie like, 2 years ago, so I’m finally doing it. Rules: Choose any three fandoms and answer the questions, then tag 10 people you want to know better.

My Three Fandoms: Legend of Zelda, Tales of Symphonia DotNW, and One Piece since those 3 have taken up big chunks of my attention over the years. Would do Darkwood since it’s a current interest but since there are so few characters, it would make the meme here harder so... Darkwood will have to wait.

The first character you loved: LoZ: I was a slut for Link as a kid, TBF I liked most protagonists, but I liked Link a LOT. DotNW: I actually liked Ratatosk a lot at first because he was cool and mysterious and tough! My first impulse was really liking Richter’s design but the first character I loved/really liked based on gameplay and actual characterization was Ratatosk. One Piece: I really liked Red Haired Shanks and was sad when he didn’t really show up again for a LONG time.

The character you never expected to love so much: Loz: There’s a few so I’m gonna cheat a bit. In OoT and MM, Ruto and Skull Kid were just kind of characters that existed but I didn’t like much. Didn’t actively dislike them but didn’t really bother taking an interest in them. But I like them a lot more now, especially with how they’re characterized in “non-canon” material like the Manga and Hyrule Warriors. The only other character I can recall from the game series that I was surprised that I liked was Peatrice from Skyward Sword. At first it was just like “Oh, yeah, she’s just the girl who stores your items, whatever. She’s neat I guess.” But then she started changing. She got more cheerful when Link came around more and showed an interest in him and when she asked if he liked her I just couldn’t say no! And then she just became so obnoxiously bubbly and happy about it and I LOVED THAT SO MUCH. Unironically I ship Peatrice and SS Link because, like, Link and Zelda are great friends but they don’t interact much since Link has to try to save her and Zelda has goddess things to worry about. Peatrice is just always there and unlike Zelda who already has a good rapport with Link at the start of the game, you get to SEE Peatrice warming up to him and I am SO soft for that! SO SOFT! Actually, one more also from SS. Groose. He’s an obnoxious, selfish, gloating bastard man, but by the end of the game with all the changes he went through, he totally grew on me as a cool dude. Especially with how he and Impa got along. DotNW: Slight cheat here too since the character didn’t debut in the game but... Colette. I honestly didn’t like her that much in Symphonia. I just kind of viewed her as an object that motivated Lloyd for a while and the impetus for everything happening in the game and it wasn’t until the end of Symphonia that I really started thinking of her as more than just a ditz that Lloyd happens to like. I��m not really sure when it happened but I started really appreciating her after DotNW, and not really because of anything she did. I guess I just eventually noticed a lot of her finer points and all the ways she contributed and how her kindness is actually super refreshing and hopeful and how soft that is considering what she’d gone through. See also my next point on Nami because hooo boy I was kind of a shitlord kid and needed to get through some things... One Piece: Nami. I HAAAATED her when I was young. Partially because of internalized sexism (probably shit I learned from sexist media, my dad, and just the lack of trust I had for any girl that wasn’t my friend because of massive bullying as a kid, but I digress.) and partially because one of the biggest parts of Nami’s arc early on was her utter betrayal of the crew. Like, we find out WHY later, and obviously I TOTALLY get where she was coming from now and all but as a kid that was just UNCALLED FOR. I also HEAVILY viewed her as the “no fun allowed” type that was actively impeding my new fave, Luffy, from having all the fun he could want because that shit costs money and the money is HERS. As a broke Millenial, I now 10000000% get where Nami is coming from and her financial responsibility is honestly hella impressive because she absolutely DOES NOT withhold the treasure from the rest of the crew, she fucking BUDGETS it. In general, I tended to dislike a lot of leading females for being catty or killjoys or a lot of other things when honestly, they were just being completely normal humans. Glad I grew out of that shit because while Nami still isn’t my fave, she’s fucking amazing.

The character you relate to the most: Loz: It’s changed over the years. I relate to Ruto a lot more now because yo, I would also just fuck off into the gut of my people’s patron Deity if my dad was being a pain and trying to marry me off (okay, so this is Manga exclusive, sue me) and 10/10 would give a precious family heirloom to a cute boy that rescued me. But more than that, IDK, she’s just... a lil’ spoiled but in a cute way, a lil’ tomboyish, but overall, for a Princess, she’s just kind of doing her thing, she’s responsible when it matters. But for OoT, y’all KNOW Darunia is my patronus because DAYUM. Chunky but strong (I’m a wuss but shut up), Grumpy butt but cares about his people, actually totes a fun dude when he’s not stressed about a food crisis, says “fuck you” directly to a fucking evil asshole despite the consequences, treats a fucking 11 year old kid like a full human being (I do not agree with leveraging a kid to fucking fight a dragon but... Link could handle it so...) names his own kid after Link because why the fuck not, befriends anyone that does him a favor and treats them like family. Dude’s just got chill old man vibes and I dig that shit. 10/10 relate to just being a fat dude that is grumpy but also wants to befriend everyone. HOWEVER, I think my top tier relatable character is Midna from Twilight Princess because that bitch is just me. Cursed to be a hot bitch trapped in a cute chunky body (I am working on myself. XD) 10/10 spoiled and bitchy as fuck, cheeky lil’ asshole who’s actually very sweet, think’s Link is dumb but also cute, cares about her world but ALSO cares about Link’s world, a lil’ selfish but also HELLA selfless because she cared more about Link and Zelda than her own life and cared more about her people than her own safety because she just fucking WENT TO FIX THAT SHIT when Zant started causing trouble, even though she didn’t have to. She’s everything I am or aspire to be. 10/10 one of the best Zelda characters. DotNW: Hard to say. I identify a lot with aspects of Richter, Aster, and Emil. I don’t have a lot of self confidence and am a bit of a shy bean, lil’ grumpy, but also a complete goober and an idealist, 10/10 would walk into hell for someone I love without thinking twice and would make deals with demons to try to save someone I care about because I am a dumbass. I love the DotNW boys because the DotNW boys are me. One Piece: Chopper. I just really fucking vibe with the whole “nobody likes me EXCEPT HOLY SHIT SOME PEOPLE SOMEHOW LIKE ME, WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO TO DESERVE THAT?” thing he has going on, as well as the whole glutton for praise but telling people to shut up when they praise me thing he has. I for real wanted to be a doctor when I was younger BECAUSE of Chopper. I’m just a weird little bean that doesn’t fit in anywhere very well while also being a slut for praise and wanting to take care of others and help them because other people have cared for me. Low key also vibe with Usopp because dude absolutely gels with kids, is a huge fucking wuss but deals with it anyway, will literally fight someone over petty shit and then come back and fight side by side with his bud’s again.

The character you’d slap: LoZ: Mmmmm. Hard to say. Like, obvs the villains but IDK who else I’d really want to slap? Does it count if I want to slap Anjuu/the Cucco Lady but, like... gentle and on the butt and in a sexy way? IDK, man. I’d feel bad but maybe Slap Mido? He looks like a kid so I’d feel REALLY bad for it, but aren’t Kokiri literally just kids forever? Asshole could be 100 years old, man... Either way he’s kinda a brat. 10/10 would slap early-game Groose from Skyward Sword also, but I’d feel bad about it because he ends up being a decen guy later. Also would slap Ghirahim for being both sexy and evil. DotNW: Alice for deciding that “never being weak again” means treating everyone else like garbage, even though I 1000% get where she’s coming from. Richter for being a fucking dumbass and not asking for help and deciding that demons were a good option and manipulating a child older dude with a magic core was a great idea even though I would do the exact same thing in his shoes. Ratatosk for being a murderous prick and starting the whole thing even though I absolutely understand where he’s coming from and I would also probably accidentally smite someone if I was a fucking spirit and in a shit mood because the only thing I really cared about was fucking ripped away from me. Honestly, mostly just me slapping people that remind me of me for doing exactly what I would do. Sensible me slapping actual me because actual me is a fucking dumbass emotional bitch with violent tendencies. One Piece: The fucking villains, obviously, Dr. Hililuck/Hiriluck for being a fucking bastard in the manga, holy shit was he an asshole! And also FUCKING SANJI. Jesus fuck, I am not over the pervy shit he does, what a creep.

Three favourite characters (in order of preference): LoZ: This is gonna be REAL hard because I love a lot of characters so... Midna, Link, and Darunia? It’s hard man. I love a lot of characters SO MUCH and it’s really hard to pick faves! DotNW: Richter, Emil, Aster. Emil and Aster share the same level of favoritism, but Richter is my number one. One Piece: Chopper, Zoro, Luffy. I used to like Luffy way more than I do now, but he’s still a fucking dork and I still like him tons.

A character you liked at first but don’t anymore: LoZ: I can’t really think of any, but I guess the character I waffle on a bit is Malon. Sometimes she’s like “Heck yeah! FAVE!” and sometimes I’m like “Eh, she exists...” IDK, I really like most of the characters. DotNW: I used to like Zelos a lot, but not anymore. Yeah this is kinda cheating since he ALSO didn’t debut in DotNW, but he’s in it so... TBF I like him in DotNW BETTER than in the first Symphonia, but not as much as I used to like him overall. One Piece: Fucking Sanji. I used to like him before the creepy factor set in. What really hit home for me was the Thriller Bark arc where he outright says he wanted the power of invisibility to creep on girls. Fucking nasty. The womanizing thing was just a quirk before that. I don’t think I’m ever gonna be over it. So gross and creepy now knowing he actively thought about creeping on girls using a special power. I know guys say this is a common thing and just how dudes are but no. That’s fucking sick. It’s one thing to say “yeah, I want to oggle women because tiddies are sexy” or whatever. It’s another thing to say “I WANT TO SPY ON WOMEN WITHOUT THEM KNOWING SO I CAN SEE TIDDY.” and it’s a third thing to say that IN A WORLD WHERE IT IS PHYSICALLY POSSIBLE TO BE INVISIBLE that you WOULD USE THAT POWER TO STARE AT WOMEN WITHOUT THEM KNOWING.

Three otps: LoZ: Link and basically everyone, but let’s narrow that. Link and Zelda is a classic, Link and Ruto is a guilty pleasure, Link and Peatrice is the underdog ship that I dig a lot. DotNW: Every combo of Richter, Emil, and Aster, enough said. One Piece: Luffy and food because he’s Ace, just let him fucking eat. Zoro and whoever he ends up liking. Tashigi maybe. Chopper and Milky.

Tagging: Anyone that wants to do it~

#ask meme #fandom meme #about me #kinda

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radne-le-roman-blog · 7 years

Text

Is there such thing as a May onward resolution?

No clue. Not in the slightest. It now exists, because this probably should’ve been a New Year’s one, over on Randythewriter. But, I created this one because it’s a joke that @poppyredrose560 made (my name - Radne), so I could let some shit out without dude getting in the way, until I fucked up and reblogged something using this account. So now I need to think of a new username. (Cough, cough) Poppy, you come up with genius names and even Death ROW that I would’ve never gotten, make me a new nickname please. (cough cough).

Only joking, Pop. I’ma sorry I pissed you off last night, I won’t pretend I was in the right, I only thought you meant it be me included with ‘men, positions’, so I left because I identify as a male cyborg. I’m sorry. I just wanted to be a guard. And fight Ironforge.

Is there such thing as a male cyborg, or is it just a cyborg? I’m off topic.

Like I said seventy tribillion years ago or something, I don’t delete things like this and just type without editing, minus spelling mistakes.

So, hi.

Hi, if you don’t know me, you’re about to either click off, or scroll down to some depressing shit about Death Row, and myself, with the lil eld Riley O. Warren, n Oscar, n Belina, n Andrew all having some dark few moments. Riley and I especially.

And if you do know me, whether that be from years ago, or you don’t like me anymore, or anything, unless you’re Pop or another unnamed person, don’t knot your knickers - I do actually have friends, and don’t wear knickers, or really care anymore, you won’t know me. Probably.

I don’t know how long the onward part of this will be, maybe three weeks until I come back on Radne, maybe a few months, maybe six odd years, or never. But, Randythewriter is dead, and he ain’t coming back. I feel like, deactivating the account is disrespectful, so I just cut all things unrelated on Randy, and then left it. I’m not cutting things here.

So, Radne will join him, and Idk, Ra the Kettle Roman will join the world fresh and new. (shrug) Not happening.

I know it’d be easy to find me. But this isn’t for you, whoever reads this. It’s for me.

-The-random-writer- died months ago, and now my current tumblrs are too, and while I’m not giving up the site, or the internet, which to be honest, I probably should have considering everything - guess the word strong somewhat applies to me, I’m giving up the things known.

Writing, eh, maybe in June, Pop.

SV was nice while it lasted in my mind, and yeah, I guess I’m beginning to structure it for myself, I guess it all changes when there’s no mate for Kettle-Kurt to lean on. But no, Aaron won’t go. But a lot will.

PG, Toby, dude, you’re dead as fuck, go back to your grave and do not try this hologram shit. And do not kill me, when I have a piece of paper in my hand saying ‘traitor’, I’ll get that on my wrist at some point, give me a break, I’ll get tattoos for your and Aarurt later on.. at some point. (Gravestone: Randy Roman, ‘97-2047, never kept his promises on tattoos. Because. Asshole.).

But, I’m dropping this account, if it wasn’t obvious. Oh, wait. I want another.

Death Row, or DR if we go with the trends of others, you mark my new, Riley, my man, you stick in there, and Andrew (apparently my actual name could be Randy, Randy is short for Andrew, weird fact from Randy), you keep investigating, you utter nutter. And Belina, have a heart, here, take mine, it was kinda stabbed in the front though.

What am I doing? Jake, you corrupted my fucking soul.

I’ve only said fuck twice - three times now, I’m doing good.

This is what three day weekends do to me, thank you bank holidays.

Oscar, be there for Riley, he’s a mess, just like yerself, quit parrot teaching, quit the repartes that break both yer hearts, and cuddle, ffs.

I’m the creator and telling them what to do instead of fixing them... Right...

JD, die. You little shit, die.

That’s over now.

So, I thought I’d do that, because I haven’t used wattpad in over a month, and even then, all I did was chat with an old friend, with no notifications for months.

I’ll probably still occasionally drop in on it.

WoW, bitch, you’ve been with me for two years, I think, I cannot quit you, my level 64 bastard who gets stupid tasks~. Randyroman, you have such a creative name and I love you. You’re just on a dead server. And Louis hates me for that one.

To the point. I’m done with this account, and being battered from both sides, mine and yours for feelings. *cough* yes, fucking hypocritical, yes, no caring in the world right now. Your biggest fighting method is something that happened once or twice, that I actually do not really remember, nor care, because in my eyes, I’m fairly glad it was sent to you, even if I hate myself so much for everything I’ve done, at least I finally came out of the ‘toxic’ arms that everyone told me you have. And that may be so, but I’m uncaring for opinions.

I smiled. Today, I’ve smiled and laughed and had a lot of fun. I haven’t felt it that much, to be honest. Poppy is a great laugh, but I’ve not really done too much of it until today. And that’s what’s opened my eyes a lot. From scribbling lyrics with Jake, or swinging on swings with Ellisha sitting on me, Adam and Jake either side of me, and an empty seat she could easily fucking sit on, to just eating breakfast and cheering when we found out Jake has his entire GCSEs correct and will begin them in a month or so, I’ve laughed and smiled.

I was happy. Actually happy. Even with HU in the background, the occasional stab in the front, and then MatPat raging, Caitlin crying in delight (we got cat today, lil kitten kute, or as Poppy will get - yes we actually did this, because, for some reason, I was allowed to choose the name - Kore le Kute, I’m spending so much more time here just for lil Kore, every weekend I want to be here), to just taking a nap, and not dreaming about terror, death, or you. I was happy.

Recently, I’ve had some lyrics coming left right and centre, so, I thought, I’d add some in the end.

But, this is probably goodbye from me today. And maybe awhile. Maybe, I’ll come back in June. I don’t know. There will probably be a tag with ‘q’ if I find anything I want to post for after this. And when there’s not, I’m probably back, from Ra the kettle Roman.

So, I want to be dehumanized, yes, and I’m not consuming enough food, seeking the help I need, or doing things I should be, but I’m doing this. Because maybe I want this pain, but maybe I want independence.

So, take your Randy shit, and seize this opportunity to post anything. I’m not crying tonight. I haven’t been crying for awhile. But my May onward resolution, is to not cry from you. For as long as possible.

I have about twenty thousand songs, but let’s try this.

“ I don't believe in all your demons anymore

It's hard to see with any reason from before

I lie awake and face these shadows in the night

I see the truth through crimson eyes”

“ Got my cards lined up in a row

Up in flames and away we go

Lost my name but it's etched in stone

Take me home when the cold wind blows.

Ain't no grave gonna hold me down

Wide awake so don't make a sound

Ain't no way you can break me down

No one sings, no escaping now”

“ Let go, oh

Love isn't good enough

Let go, oh

Love isn't good enough

And the waves in the sea

They slip away just like me

So let go, oh

You weren't good enough”

“Dark hearts don’t break, they bruise.”

“Cause I, I think of you now and then, the memories never end, when gravity pulls you in”

“ I am a lion and I want to be free

Do you see the lion when you look inside of me

Outside the window just to watch you as you sleep

'Cause I am a lion born from things you can not be”

“ Beneath the covers while I hide behind the pain

After all only so much we can say

Words can lose their meaning once you walk away

Promise me that you'll love me, watch me as I fade

I'll give you all the things that these lions never gave

The hands on the clock and the things we cannot change

Tearin' out the pieces and take back what I made

If there's one thing I'd keep, it's you that I would save”

“ I don't know why I cut myself.

God give me a sign or help, I won't cry.

It'll be fine I'll take my last breath.

Push it out my chest till there's nothing left.”

“Have you ever met a living legend,

Just a real friend who planned his end?

And where do I begin?

You said it was pretend.

And when the bullet went through,

It took more than just you.

It took two, it was you,

It was me, and suddenly.

How can someone say they're helpless,

And then they act so selfish?

You put me through hell with this,

So fuck you let's just end this.

And what about our friendship?

What you did was senseless.

You thought you found an exit?

Like I said, let's end this!”

“ Someone left the door open

Who left me outside

I'm bent, I'm not broken

Come live in my life

All the words left unspoken

Are the pages I write

On my knees and I'm hoping

That someone holds me tonight

Hold me tonight”

“ 'Cause I

I think of you now and then

The memories never end when

Gravity pulls you in

(You in, you in, you in, you in)”

All HU, nice songs, these are some I thought you’d like. Take me home, let go, gravity, lion, circles, the loss, outside.

And then just the entirety of True Friends, which I quite enjoy.

So, goodbye.

( Now I can see your pain, I'm sorry!

GOODBYE!

I cry so hard.

Now I can see your pain, I'm sorry!

GOODBYE!

I cry tonight!) (Pain - HU)

Goodbye for now,

Hasta luego.

Good day.

And I love you.

And if you decide to delete some of our memories, that’s okay. Danny and Da kurlzz have a little something to say to you.

And so do I.

But, I’d prefer you not to, maybe you’d like to look back at times. I don’t care if there are any pending messages from me, but the ones that exist, once they get deleted, maybe they’re gone forever. And I know you’re petty enough to now go delete them and make a few more telling me to piss off.

Maybe one day you’d want to look back. Maybe if you delete them from you, it deletes from mine too. So delete them all, if you delete any. You can keep the one that says that you wouldn’t care about my status as a human, alive or dead, for all I care, that’s what begun my thoughts and nightmares of you killing me. And yet you’ve said before that… that you don’t want me to die. Shock, horror, even I was surprised to have that quoted. I won’t call bullshit, only the truth of my thoughts.

Delete the happy moments, Hunter, if that is what you wish, don’t do it out of petty spite. Delete the happy and the sad, until there is no trace of us, until there are ten posts on Randythewriter, where you cannot visit, where there is only the evil on Radne, the truth and what you did to me. If that’s what you wish.

I know you saw last nights thing. So, fly to Andromeda, and take your posts with you.

Will.

Not.

Cry.

Over.

You.

I fucking loved you.

And finally,

I’m using the right word.

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