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ursuburbanmother · 4 months

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I’m On Fire, But I’m Trying Not to Show It || Chapter Five

Pairing: Angus Tully x fem!reader

a/n: Omg… I survived finals and all those unit exams. So here is chapter five after a long wait lol. It’s also a longish chapter because you guys are nice and deserve it.

Word Count: ~6.2k

Find: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Enjoy!

Day Eight - Christmas Day, 1970

Angus had retreated to the auditorium once again. He supposed he did so because it reminded him of simpler times. Like when he was nine and his biggest worry was if he would mess up on the sonata he was playing in front of his piano teacher. All because he could feel you in the other room, waiting for him to be done.

He was playing aimlessly and with no particular tune in mind. He just let his fingers glide wherever he felt like. It felt different to be there during the daylight, almost illegal. When he heard the creak of the auditorium doors, he had thought he had been caught. But it was just you, carrying that lavender plant you seemed to be so fond of. You held your potted plant close to your chest and walked up to the stage. He stopped playing to watch you and smiled a little at the sight.

“I kept my promise,” you show off the plant you had improvised decorations with. Little ribbons used for your hair are used as tinsel. There are small pieces of balled up color paper with a paperclip through them that work as ornaments. He could tell you tried not to be overzealous, trying to keep the plant from collapsing from the weight. You place the lavender on the piano and take a seat next to him.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” he says back.

You sigh, “Weird party.”

“Yeah. Very weird.”

“I hope Marys alright.”

“Me too,” he sniffs.

He sees you pause to fix your hair. It sits unruly on you, and he can tell you just rolled out of bed. You still look beautiful.

“Um. You never answered my question. Last night…”

He stiffens, “Oh well. You didn’t either.”

You pressed your lips together, “So did you?”

“Did I what?”

You roll your eyes, “Did you feel, I don't know… Did you care? About Joseph?”

Now it's his turn to roll his eyes, “I don’t care about Joseph.”

“Okay. Fine. Then did you care about seeing me with him.”

Angus swallows thickly. He tries to find that sudden rush he felt during the party. The rush that had him so close to just reaching out to hold your cheeks in his hands and collide your lips into his.

He finds the rush in the way you squeeze his hand, encouraging him to continue.

“Yeah, I was jealous,” he prays you won't rip your hand away from his. “Because I care about everything you do.”

You smile and almost look pleased. “I was… a bit too,” you admit, avoiding the word and tugging at the sleeves of your sweater.

Because you think of me that way too, because you think of me that way too, Angus chants in his head like a mantra.

“Because we’re friends?” You cross your arms and hug yourself tightly, gazing up at him through your lashes.

He thinks now that the rush must have been beaten into silence because his mouth stays close, unable to argue back.

“Yeah. ‘Cause we’re friends,” he nods affirmatively, although he has to pinch the side of his thigh to stop himself from crying. He drowns out the ache in his chest and turns into a physical manifestation. There are glass marbles running wild in his head, and they crash against it like a steel floor. They shatter into little bits and prick his mind, berating him for being so stupid, for falling into Elises false optimism, and believing for a second that anything he ever felt would be reciprocated.

A small sigh slips past your lips and Angus suspects it must have been out of relief. He pinches himself harder.

“It all felt like deja vu don’t you think?”

“Hmm?” An odd sound emerges from his throat.

“You and me, begging one another to not be replaced. We’re still the same as when we were fourteen.”

Still the same as we were. The words echoed around, bouncing off the walls of Barton. He can settle with being friends for the rest of his life, as long as it meant he kept having you. If he had to watch you be with someone else, he would suck it up. Like sinking his teeth into a slice of lime without wincing.

He would be fine with you treating him like a wildflower in your garden. He would come around each year, and grow over your tulips, competing for your attention. Practically shouting at you to deal with him. He could wither but come back year-round when you needed him the most. You could harvest him, prune him, press his petals against pages.

The point is you would need him as much as he needs you. …

Paul Huham woke up sick, but not in the way he had expected. He had expected a grinding headache and incredible vertigo. And after five glasses of Jim Beams, he also expected to slip on the ice of the sidewalk as he led Mary to the Nova last night. But he supposed that by now he must have built some sort of tolerance towards it.

Instead, this morning he felt void. He was completely depleted and unable to take his mind off what Miss Crane had said to him at the Christmas party. Mary’s words had definitely brought him back to earth. And although the night had ended… oddly, he still realized that what the two women had said was right.

Angus and Y/n were just kids. Nearly adults in terms of age sure, but still immature and sharing the behavior of one, nonetheless. Miss L/n undoubtedly seemed to deserve a proper celebration. It would be as a thank you of sorts for her ability to rein Mr. Tully in. And Angus Tully needed a moment of distraction from the treacheries of the holiday season. Paul could certainly relate to that.

So, with a groan, he got out of bed. He walked quickly to the bathroom to get his feet off the cold floor and get changed. Afterwards, he went to check in on them in their room.

He saw Y/n buried underneath two blankets. He could barely see her face and it was almost like she was entangled in her own cocoon. Angus however, laid crookedly and clutching a pillow close to his chest, his blanket discarded to the side. There were open drawers, littered pieces of trash on the floor and clothes on the ground. He really ought to remind you both to clean your room.

But confirming you two were asleep, Paul was able to begin the laborious process of getting the ice off his windshield. He then drives into town with the stereo off. He had heard enough Christmas music yesterday and didn’t feel like having jingle-bells grilled into his ear. He slows down as he nears the tree farm. It is empty compared to how it had been mid-November. Vividly he had remembered seeing the town families gathering around and choosing their tree. Kids roamed around as parents debated which trunk smelled the freshest. With the same level of enthusiasm those mothers and fathers had, we trudged up to the nearest worker.

“Merry Christmas,” he smiles awkwardly.

“Merry Christmas. What can I do for you, chief?”

“I’m looking for a tree.”

“Well, you came to the right place. Big fire sale on all remaining inventory.”

Paul hums and tries to find the least scrawny looking pine tree in the lot. He ends up purchasing

one that isn’t nearly as grand as the one Barton had in the dining hall. He then straps it to the top of his car's roof and drives back to the school.

“Mr. Tully, Ms. L/n,” he greets slightly energized by the morning air. He stops abruptly at the sight of the empty beds. There is still a visible dent from where the two had slept. Puzzled, he whirls around the room like they may appear out of thin air. He checks the other vacant rooms shouting out their names.

He stumbles his way into the kitchen where Mary is still in her pajamas, a piece of toast in one hand and a spatula in the other.

“Good morning.”

“Merry Christmas,” she corrects.

“Yeah. Merry Christmas, of course,” he lowers his voice, “How are you?”

“Well, I've got a case of the cocktail flu.”

“Uh, have you seen the kids?” he says with a bit of worry.

“Mm-mm,” she shakes her head and returns her attention to grilling the bacon.

Paul drops his head, “Goddammit, where the hell can they be?”

Hunham takes the search outside, yelling out to the campus quad that has been covered in white. He trudges to the school's theater wing, where he scampers up the stairs.

“Mr. Tully? Ms. L/n?” he pants as he reaches another floor level. He stops momentarily to listen to the music coming from the auditorium and follows the sounds. He had no idea they could do that.

He makes his presence known by slamming the door behind him shut. The piano stops and you both whirl around.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” the two say in unison.

“Where the hell have you two been?”

“I don’t know. Just here,” Angus says.

“Come on. I have something to show you both.” …

You hold Angus' hand as you make your way back to the dining hall. His hands feel clammy. A little shaky too. Although yours weren’t any different. You felt like a ghost floating outside your own body.

When you had asked him the question, you had huddled into yourself. It was the closest thing to holding a shield over your heart. In your head you had thought that if you could just reach out and place your hand against his chest, then you wouldn’t have to ask anything at all. You would just be able to tell by the rhythm of his own thumping heart. You had prayed that he would argue against you. That he would say, ‘No. Not just because we’re friends.” But he hadn’t and now you know never to trust the words of a random man at a party.

But if you were reduced to that status for eternity, you supposed you would be able endure it. Truth was that you felt you felt greedy in ever wishing more from him. He could have brushed you off, labeled you as a snob and never have jumped into the ice-cold pool when you were seven. Yet, he hadn’t and to that you owed him.

Because you think that if he had never spoken to you, you would have spent your entire life watching things from a distance.

When you arrived at the mess hall, Mr. Hunham asked you two to wait before bringing out an irked Mary. She took a seat nearby as Hunham presented you with the bare tree and a few wrapped gifts underneath.

“No ornaments?” Angus frowns, unimpressed.

“Ornaments would diminish the Charlie Brown-esque of it,” you say. “All we really need is one giant red sphere.”

“Oh, I’m sure we can round up some ornaments somewhere,” Mr. Hunham pipes in and picks up one of the gifts, “Uh now… this is for you two.”

He hands you and Angus a rectangular package with a neat bow tied to keep it closed. You’re too surprised to open it but do so after you see Angus shift beside you.

Underneath your fingertips you hold, what you always believed, to be the holy grail of gifts. A book!

“Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. For my money, it’s like the Bible, the Koran and the Bhagavad Gita all rolled up into one. And the best part is not one mention of God!”

“Hmm,” Mary grunts in disapproval.

“Okay. Thanks,” Angus nods.

“Thank you, Mr. Hunham. This is really, really, nice,” you rush to hug him, forgetting you’re supposed to be treating the man like a superior. He doesn’t push you away though, he awkwardly pats your back instead, his other arm hanging out weirdly.

He clears his throat, “Well… I know how much of a voracious reader you are. It’s a rarity that must be preserved.”

“Thank you. I love it,” you hold the book close. You sway a little like you would when you are holding a baby.

“And this is for you,” Hunham returns to passing out the presents.

Mary eyes him suspiciously and unwraps it with ease. It’s another copy of “Meditations.”

“So you just give this to everybody?” She chides.

“And,” Mr. Hunham holds out a bottle of whiskey, smiling.

Mary grins back, “Aw. How did you guess?”

“How indeed,” he laughs. He holds up his finger momentarily, signaling you two to wait. “Also, this came in the mail for you,” Hunham hands Angus an envelope. You watch as he sits down and opens it quickly. The green card is shiny and stuffed with cash. Inside is one of those pre-written messages concocted by marketing companies. The only sign of a personal touch is the scribbled note that reads, ‘Love, Mom and Stanley.’

“Oh, that's nice,” you shrug shyly when Angus turns to gauge your reaction.

“Mary, may I help you with breakfast?” Hunham interrupts the sulking.

She nods, “Yes. Please. Angus, Y/n, clear the table.”

“Okay,” you pick up your abandoned lavender and place it next to the much taller pine. “Look, it's us.”

You snicker quietly, pleased at your own joke. Angus continues to stare down at the table.

You sigh and approach him, “Angus. Are we okay?”

His eyes snap to yours, “Yeah. Of course. It just…”

“It's just what?”

“I-, I didn’t get you anything.”

You exhale shakily. For a second you’d thought you had screwed everything up and he was ready to ignore you and forget of your existence.

You lean over and squeeze his hand, “It's okay. Your presence is worth more than a thousand jewels.”

“Cheesy,” he snorts. The first genuine reaction you'd gotten out of him all day.

“Thank you!” You squeak and tug at a loose piece of his curls. …

It's a group effort to get dinner on the table before midnight. Angus begrudgingly agrees to help you with the vegetables while Hunham and Mary handle the more serious stuff. You are still not to be trusted with anything besides a peeler.

You're scraping the final bits off your plate as Angus wipes his mouth with his napkin.

“Thank you, Mary. That was just lovely,” Hunham gleams.

“Wow, is that an actual compliment?”

“Oh, come on,” Hunham waves off.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had a real family Christmas like this before,” Angus recalls, “Christmas dinner, I mean- family style. Out of the oven, all the trimmings. We always leached off of Y/n’s family.”

“Yeah. From Delmonico’s. Fresh from their stoves to ours,” you scoff at the memories of you tipping the delivery driver through the kitchen window so they could remain unseen by guests.

“Well, she’s got the right idea. Next year I’m ordering in from Delmonico’s,” Mary teases.

“Anyway. Thank you, Mary,” Angus says seriously.

“You’re welcome.” She winks at him and smiles.

Mr. Hunham raises his mug, encouraging you all to follow suit.

“I’d like to propose a toast. To my three unlikely companions on this snowy island. And to our absent friends and family,” the glass wavers in your hand, “And I realize that none of us are here because he wants to be, so if there’s any way that I can make the holidays a little cheerier for any of you, just say the word.”

You perk up immediately, hands slamming down on the table and almost shaking your fork off the table, “We want to go to Boston.”

“Boston. Why?” Hunham stares appalled.

Angus catches on and nods his head enthusiastically, “Why not? We want a real Christmas. We want to go ice skating. And I want to see a real Christmas tree with ornaments, not that stupid thing.”

“You said it was nice,” Mr. Hunham says, offended.

“It is nice,” Mary reassures.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here. We want a real holiday,” Angus slithers his hand into yours.

“Well, we’re not going to Boston. It’s out of the question.”

“There's plenty of intellectual-like things there too! We could go to museums or visit statues. Or even go inside Paul Revere's house! Did you know they had that there?”

“Come on Paul, you just told them ‘anything.’ So, take the kids to Boston,” Mary vouches.

“Mary, we’re not allowed to leave campus or the immediate environs,” he insists.

Angus' arm flops down and the grip he had on your hand is loosened. You’re about ready to beg the history teacher to reconsider, and that you’ll stay behind and keep clean every inch of Barton as long as he agrees to take Angus. He must have noticed the flame he blew out from your metaphorical birthday candles as he drops his shoulders.

“But I suppose we could call it a field trip. A field trip would fall under the ambit of additional academic pursuits. There’s even a fund set aside for additional academic pursuits,” he mutters like it's a secret.

“I’ll go pack,” Angus rises, a grin on his lips as he sprints off to the infirmary.

You get up and move behind Mr. Hunham to hug his shoulders and then run to Mary to give her an equal tight squeeze.

She pats your arms, and says, “Alright now. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is to me! I mean I’ve-, I have always gotten chocolates for Christmas. Pass the age of twelve anyway. But my mom orders them from Stockholm and they’re great, they’re delicious, but even though I ask for a two-dollar book… I always get these ridiculously expensive chocolates. Yet tonight, I didn’t even have to ask-, for the book, umm, I-,” you flail your arms around, stumbling over your words.

“You didn’t have to ask us to not order the overpriced chocolates from Europe?”

“Yeah,” you tug at your earlobe. “So thank you. For not force feeding me copious amounts of sugar and cacao.”

Mr. Hunham smooths out his shirt and swiftly wipes underneath his eyes, “Well… I hear shipping costs are rather high nowadays.”

Day Nine - December 26th, 1970

The entirety of Massachusetts looks as idyllic as a postcard. The colonial houses and snow-covered lawns were so Norman Rockwell that you felt sickly sweet. You had attempted at first, to get the stubborn radio to turn on to no avail. After a while you all managed to chat amongst yourselves about local news. Not that you had any recent access to that information to be able to understand it all. Mr. Hunham had his own fun informing you all about the origins of Christmas traditions. Like how popcorn garlands could be traced down to some colonists in Virginia.

The talking had dwelled down as you reached Roxbury. You had been disappointed that Mary wouldn't be tagging along to Boston, but you knew her going to her sister’s meant more than you could understand.

“Here we are,” Mary sighs as the car stops in front of a large apartment building.

“Boy, that's an awful lot of stairs,” Mr. Hunham comments.

“And probably icey too.”

“Mhm.”

Although you understand the hints, you're not so sure Angus is. You kick his heel to break through whatever trance he is in.

“Mr. Tully?” Hunham calls.

His eyes widened, “Right… Mary, can I help with your bags?”

“Yes please.”

Angus is handed the keys to open the trunk. He gets out and collects a suitcase and a round little box and goes across the street.

“Hey, be careful with the box,” Mary orders from the open car window.

“I’ll help too!” You smile.

“No, that's okay sweetheart. Let him be gentlemanly.”

“I really just want to stretch my legs.”

“You can go,” Hunham says, “don’t wander far.”

“Thank you,” you say.

Mr. Hunham watches you jog across the street and stop at the bottom of the stairs to look up at Angus. He turns towards Mary, “You know you’re more than welcome to a room at the hotel. We’ve got the money.”

“Are you out of your mind? I need a break from you and Angus and all your damn bickering. Besides, I'm looking forward to visiting my little sister. She’s pregnant.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful.” He cheers and takes Mary’s hand and squeezes it. She scrunches her nose.

“Mr. Hunham. Mr. Hunham!” She pulls away and cradles her hand like it's been broken.

“Oh, I’m sorry. My hands sweat. It’s hyperhidrosis. Sorry.”

You bounce back to the car, crouching down slightly to speak to Mary, “Angus is asking how far to go.”

The two adults peer through the car windshield to spot the boy, “One more flight up!” Mary instructs.

You go back to observing him like a guard dog, one hand on your waist and the other over your eyes to block out the sun. You hear Mary get out of the Nova and wave up at her sister and who you presume to be her husband.

“Mary!”

“Hi!” she shouts back.

You pout as she approaches you, “Bye Mary.”

“Aww,” she pinches your cheek briefly. You don’t have enough time to appreciate the touch. “Don’t be so moody. I’ll see you soon. And look at the bright side. You get a hotel room all to yourself.”

“I’m going to feel all vacant in there.”

“Just do me a favor.”

“Yes?”

“Eat all the fancy snacks in the hotel mini fridge for me.”

“I’ll stuff them in my suitcase for you,” you promise.

“Thank you,” she tucks your hair back to protect it from the harsh breeze tangling it out everywhere.

Angus’s footsteps are loud as he practically skips over to you two. He loops his arm around yours and tries to drag you away, “Bye Mary!”

“Uh-uh. Where are you going?”

“I was just-,” Angus babbles.

“You’re not done yet. You have to help me up there.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” he relents, letting go of you and switching over to Mary.

You whirl around and head back to the car. You wish you could continue glancing at him, and the way the sun peeks through his hair and makes it appear browner than usual. But it's only so long until it begins to get creepy. Only so long until it is noticeable that you’re not admiring him as just a friend.

…

You settle in at the Sheraton Commander. It's a nice hotel with chandeliers in the lobby. Everyone around you looks like businessmen in a hurry or professors with a lecture to attend. Your room is right across from Mr. Hunham and Angus, and already you feel lonely at hearing their squabble across the hall.

You had kicked your suitcase underneath your bed and then went to knock at their door.

Mr. Hunham answers, “Ah, Miss L/n. Good. We were just discussing what to do for dinner.”

The door widens to allow you to enter, and you find a seat next to Angus on the end of his bed. “I thought we would go out to eat?”

“That’s exactly what I said but Mr. Hunham insists we stay in,” Angus says annoyed.

“It’s late! If we went out now, we could be met with frostbite and discomfort. We will get a proper night's rest and then enjoy the wonders of Boston.”

Angus groans beside you and you hop off the mattress. You silently ask for the room service menu which Hunham holds.

You scan through the foods, “They have some good options Angus…”

“Ugh,” Angus tugs at his hair. “Fine. What do they have?”

“You like Fettuccine Alfredo, get that.”

“Not if it doesn’t have chicken,” you know that's not true, and he’s just trying to be unnecessarily complicated. Still, you play along.

“Alright. I’ll get the chicken parmesan and give you some of it. Deal?”

“Deal,” he rolls his eyes.

“What are you getting Mr. Hunham?” You address the man.

“I don’t know,” he puts on the glasses that had been resting on his head. “I haven’t had ravioli in a while…”

“Get the ravioli. It’s courtesy of Barton afterall.”

Mr. Hunham hums, “I suppose you're right… Do either of you have an aching for anything particularly sweet after your dinner?”

You and Angus smile at each other, “I wouldn't mind some cake.”

“I wouldn't either.”

Mr. Hunham chuckles and picks up the phone on the night table. He presses some buttons and listens to dial tone before a staff member picks up.

“Hello, yes can I…”

You drown out the order as you draw open the curtains to their window.

“Holy shit. You can see Harvard from here.”

“Oh yeah. The receptionist mentioned that while you were busy admiring the Greek pillars. I think she thinks we’re on a campus trip.”

“I can only see layered brick from my window.”

“Well, that's Cambridge for you.”

You squint your eyes, “Are you really that bothered about not going out. Everything closed anyway.”

“That's what your brainwashed, rural, New England mind wants you to think. This is Boston. A city. Things here probably don’t close until three a.m”

“I doubt that.”

“Want to bet?” He whispers, smirking.

“What?”

“Let’s go out tonight. After Hunham declares it lights out.”

You shake your head, “We can’t, he's been so nice to us. I mean, c’mon, he drove us here.”

“This isn’t me trying to, like, undermine or disrespect him or anything. I just want to hang out with you.”

You fold under his gaze, and look back at Mr. Hunham who is still on the phone. “I don’t know Angus…”

“We’ll sneak out for an hour tops. He’s a heavy sleeper.”

Nervously you nod like he might overhear you even though he’s pretty preoccupied on getting a glass of Jim Beam brought up with the rest of your dinner.

“I guess. But you have to use your Christmas money to buy him a book on ancient Rome or something. As a present.”

“I’ll start marking the map,” Angus picks up a discarded pamphlet provided by the hotel. You smile at his eagerness as he tries to slyly look for places to visit. Mr. Hunham hangs up the phone and sighs contently.

“Food in thirty minutes. Wash up!” …

Mr. Hunham was chewing his last ravioli, and holding onto his half-finished bottle of Jim Beam like it was precious cargo. A Farewell to Arms, had come on TV, leading his current tangent. Even though you were anxious to get your plans on track, you couldn't help the way your mouth widened in awe as you listened to his words. You had no idea why Angus claimed to be so bored in his class. Hunham was better than any history teacher you had ever had.

“Although there is no credible proof, of course, that Hemingway described his hometown as one of ‘wide lawns and narrow minds,’ it would track considering his works. Actually, were you aware that his town was once a single entity? It's called Cicero and as you know, Mr. Tully, he was a very big politician in Ancient Rome. He-,” Mr. Hunham reads the clock on the wall. It's eleven thirty-two.

“Is it that late already?”

“Yes sir,” Angus responds, slightly exhausted.

“I do apologize. Most people tend to stop me once I hit the forty second mark.”

“It was really quite interesting,” you voice, “they don’t go too in depth about the author's life in the inside sleeve of books.”

“Well, uh, I thank you. For listening.”

“No. Thank you. You saved me from buying a biography,” you quip, and he smiles at you. A warm smile.

“Y’know you two are a lot like Hemingway. Maybe you both just happen to be two very large fishes with great minds, born into an incredibly narrow, small pond.”

…

You were kicked out after assisting in the clean-up. You then went to your room and put on your pajamas, along with your shoes. Instead of opting to use your usual sneakers, you put on the black Mary Jane’s your school mandates.

You didn’t know why until you looked Angus eye to eye and said, “I think it balances the rule-breaking out. I sneak out, simultaneously obeying my school's dress code.”

Angus had snorted, before revealing his own tie under his coat, hanging loosely and undone over his neck. You laughed, closed the door behind you and fled down the hotel stairs. It was clear almost immediately your coat, scarf and hat weren’t enough to keep you warm.

“We should turn back,” you suggested desperately.

“We’ve made it down one street.”

“Yes, and I’ve seen three ‘open’ signs. You were right, the world goes on after midnight. Let's go home,” you plead.

“No,” Angus drapes his arm over your shoulder, “we have to do at least one thing. So, think, what do you want to do?”

You mull it over for a second. There was nothing you were desperately wanting to see. The places you did were locked securely by key until tomorrow morning. Boston held no particular memories for you like it did for Angus. However, your parents owned a house downtown that you had been in exactly five times, and you always did like even numbers much better.

“You remember that brownstone on Beacon Hill?”

Angus smirks and nudges you to follow him. The walk to the train is painful with the way snowflakes seem to fall and nip at your skin. The only other commuter in their train car is a lady in scrubs and a defeated salesman. There are plenty of empty seats for you and Angus to hog. Nevertheless, you stand, holding onto the pole, your hands on top of each other. You lift your pinky a couple stops later, having forgotten what limb belongs to you and which was his.

You vaguely recall the address. Really you are navigated towards it through pure instinct. Something deep in your gut telling you ‘Here is the place your father will crash to if he doesn’t want to drive home after work.’

Your quiet walk is interrupted by the whooping of who you assume to be college kids extending their Christmas festivities. They leave, stumbling out of bars and into their cars. You don’t feel inclined to question it until you see them driving towards the brownstone. Your brownstone.

You pick up your pace. You follow the loose strands of streamers and glitter that litter the street.

You stop dead in your tracks at the sight of the house. With its lights on and the windows curtains drawn wide open, just inviting anyone to look inside and envy them. Dead ivy covers its brick walls, and you think back on the gorgeous wisteria that you once saw grow one springtime.

People in decadent clothing filter in and out of the house. Some pass you by and stare you down like your presence is a major disturbance that’s worthy of calling the authorities.

You spot the unmistakable pinned up hair belonging to your mother. She is dressed in silk and pearls. She dances with your father with her eyes closed. She looks at peace. She looks happier than you have ever seen her.

“Y/n…” Angus whispers, trying to get your attention.

But something else catches it instead. The mail slot is full of letters and cards. There are some bills too but that never worried them. They waited until they were threatened to have their light shut off for them to actually pay them with a simple flick of their wallet.

You go through them frantically. You go through the November letters, reaching the early weeks of December until you find the last notice. Sent from your school to them. It looks brand new, untouched. The last fingers to hold them before you were the school administrator and a mailman.

You tear the wax seal off and read the letter.

To the family of Y/n L/n,

This is the confirmation notice that your child will be holding over at Janie Patricks School for Girls for the following next two weeks. She will be supervised under the care of our English Department Head, Ms. Patricia Orchard. Any last-minute changes or concerns must be alerted to her now. Contact information below includes…

You halt halfway through a sentence and let the paper fall onto the dirty snow on the pavement. You want to grab a rock off the sidewalk and hit their window. You want to ruin their fun and embarrass them by asking, “Why did you even bother having me?” Even though you know their answer.

“Because we were expected to.”

To them you’re the anchor tying their boat down. They’re two birds and you just happen to be their cage. You don’t pick up that pebble by your shoe, no matter how tempting. You almost trip as your vision become foggy and you march forward and past Angus. You sit at a bus bench and wish you had a big bag of bird seeds to feed pigeons. Grandparents in parks always seem so content doing that. Angus joins you shortly and uses the end of the wool scarf to wipe your unnoticed tears.

You shakily exhale and white fog floats in the air. “I thought they wanted me during the winter.”

“What?” Angus draws his brows together.

“Spring and summer I get. People want to have a good time at the L/n’s. And I’m a pest like the bugs in the grass who brings the mood down at just my buzzing. But when it’s cold out, I’m more tolerable. I don’t complain as much about the weather so I’m quieter. My lack of attendance can be brushed off easier because they can just say I’m sick.”

“No Y/n-,”

“Secretly, I hoped they just hated me enough to want me to spend holiday break at school. I didn’t actually think they forgot me. I’m their baby. People don’t forget their babies.”

“Hey,” Angus snaps, holding your face between his hands. “They’re assholes and later, when the tears have dried, I know you’ll try to fight me on it. You’ll come up with all these excuses for them, but you have to remember that not once have they ever tried justifying themselves. You can love them. They’re your parents. But likability is different. And I’m sorry because I have never liked your parents.”

“I’m such a bother Angus,” you weep, “all calendar year long.”

“No, you’re not. I want you if no one else. I love you.”

You trace the outline of his face under the street lamppost like a tourist observes a painting in a museum. You find him doing the same. Although not much has changed. You have him ingrained in your mind. You could forget about him, not think of him for fifty years but still be able to scout him out in a crowded street.

You inch closer to him, filled by the sudden urge to be as close as humanly possible to him. It’s an urge that resurfaces every once in a while. Usually you brush it off, blaming the cold or an uncomfortable situation you want to hide from. But tonight all you feel is the warmth only he can radiate and the inimitable way he makes your heart race. You remove the hand cupping your face and kiss his knuckles.

“How is it that you want me?” You shakily breath.

“I want you in the spring, summer, autumn, winter,” he leans in closer, bumping noses with you.

“Really?” you murmur, using both hands to comb through the curls.

“I want you, all the time,” He spoke into the short amount of space between you. You were practically breathing into each others' mouths, your lips on the verge of touching.

“Angus, I don't think we should do anything. It’s late and we’re tired. We need to sleep.”

“Trust me, I’m wide awake,” he chuckles.

“You’re my only friend,’’ the rational side shines through. Briefly.

“I want you more than a friend.”

“We should go slow,’’ you bargain.

“Okay,” he presses his lips quickly against you. Eagerly you accept and pull him by his hair. You try to cram in all the lost opportunities with him in seconds. You savor the way his lips feel chapped from the bitter weather against yours. He encapsulates your body, practically pressing you down on the bus bench.

“You’re gonna get us arrested,” you murmur through brief pauses when you go to gasp for air.

His mouth parts, his lips red and puffy, “Yeah. I’m sorry, I shouldn't have done that. Are you-,”

You lunge at his lips, and smile into the kiss. You think this is how the rest of your life is supposed to go. Wherever happens with college and adult life, he has to be there. Because otherwise you don’t know how you will manage to breathe properly.

Then as the party rages on behind you. It floods you. The thing you had been waiting for. The reassurance, the sign you were doing the right thing.

Woosh.

#angus tully x reader #angus tully #the holdovers

119 notes · View notes

fillinforlater · 1 year

Text

Loathing Love: Lavish Lies (Part 4)

Male Reader x Kwon Eunbi + Kang Hyewon x Jo Yuri

Length: 9060 words

Tags: emotional drama, smut, cheating, alcohol, rage, anger issues, bisexuality, girl x girl relationship, girl x girl action, threesome, literal breeding, mating press, face sitting, squirting, clit play, dirty talk, the dumbest, most improbable sex ever, this is NOT real life, very dark ending

TW: includes topics like cheating, alcohol, sex and death

Inspiration: "Look at Me" by XXXTENTACION, Hyewon x Yuri best ship, gay power couple; this had to be released in Pride Mont (glad I could make it lol), also @capslocked ; @iznsfw, I'm sorry.

(A/N: THE FINALE of my L4 Series. It's finally here. The promise is fulfilled. I hope you get the ending and don't hate me. It's all fiction.)

“Look at me, fuck on me / Look at me, fuck on me / Look at me, fuck on me.”

Volume decreased by eighty percent. You don’t need someone screaming in your ears right now. It only makes you want to scream back. The poor guy has been dead for almost five years now, he doesn’t really deserve it. If you’re honest to yourself, he feels way too on point. Better turn the radio off entirely.

His voice still resonates in your mind, as you get out of the car. Combined with Hyewon’s and Yuri’s moans, they form an inglorious, deadly symphony to fuel your hatred. Visuals of you screaming, scratching, beating fragile, pale skin pop up in your mind. This wave of emotions, it’s crashing in on you like a tsunami. Sadly, it doesn’t bury you. It only makes you angrier.

Push open the door and Eunbi gasps. She kneels on the living room floor, right next to the carpet. Her clothes are in tatters, her knees covered in bruises, but worst of all, her face is ruined with scratches, blood and runny mascara. It looks like someone already did the things you imagined in your head: beat her up and left her whimpering on the floor. The punishment for someone who cheats and lies.

Grab Eunbi’s lifeless arm and pull it up. Your fiance begins to cry, she begs not with words but with her eyes. The way she shakes her head is in honest fear. The potential strikes scare her, how your palm will meet her face over and over again in a loveless, hurt beating.

But you sigh.

"I can't," you squeeze out, voice cracking with every word. "I hate seeing you like this. You deserve to be thrown out and beg for money on the street. But I can't, I—"

You pull Eunbi into a hug. Her small frame melts into your arms, her feet unable to support her. She is like a wet sack, surprisingly heavy. You're barely able to drag her to the couch and watch her whimper and cry, face hidden behind her elbow.

"I still love you, Eunbi.

"Let's try again."

"Y-yes," she sobs and tightly grabs your shirt.

"Let's marry, Eunbi."

"Y-yes, th-thank you."

The proposal might have been a mess, but the marriage was not. Everything was meticulously planned, and even the tiniest details went perfectly. No one knew of Eunbi's affair, and you kept it this way.

Even after your marriage, your luck did not run out. Everything was working out. Two promotions in a year, a new, bigger house, two cars, a part time job for Eunbi that she really enjoys. Talking about Eunbi, she became attentive, caring, adoring, loving to the point where your wound began to heal.

Eight months into your marriage, you became an actor.

No, not the type that moves to Hollywood, swims in money and earns fame with every new movie. The type who has to act all day every day. You have to pretend that it's all fine, smile at everyone, always say the right things—

Acting is lying. You lie to them, because you cannot live with her lying to you.

Eunbi does not know about the abundance of security cameras you installed around and inside the house. They are tiny, but very modern and always connected to your phone for constant surveillance of your expensive home.

Not a single criminal has tried to enter your home—but multiple other 'criminals' entered something else.

At first, it was one guy. Tall, handsome, expensive suit. Eunbi greeted him with a smile. You watched the footage quite confused. The two of them sat down in the living room and talked for a bit. It looked like he tried to sell her something, but it also looked fake, like they were—

Role playing.

A minute later, Eunbi's arms and feet were wrapped around him as he drilled his cock deep inside her cunt. There was no sound, but you could see her moan and scream as he went faster.

Three weeks later, another guy. He seemed to not like role playing. Eunbi opened the door and his tongue was in her mouth immediately. They fucked all over the kitchen, on every damn counter. At least this guy was somewhat attractive.

Things got horrible after this. Guy after guy walked into your home and fucked your wife. Hole after hole, day after day. Whenever you were at work and she wasn't, a cock was inside her. One time, someone seemed to comment on her hair and the next day she went to dye it blonde.

That was also the day you decided to not touch her anymore. You stay at work longer, until late at night. Work frees your mind a little, and soon they will promote you to the second highest position. 500k after taxes, seemingly infinite money, yet you still weep and down whiskey each night watching guys go to town on her.

Today, two guys arrived together. They spit roasted her on the bed, which was already covered in her juices and sweat from another guy an hour before.

The video flashes before your dead eyes. You drop another piece of ice into the glass, watch the auburn whiskey sway and cool. Down it goes as Eunbi gets ready to take a cock up her loose asshole. For the first time, you look at the new guy who groans as Eunbi takes his cock.

His smug grin. It's the same motherfucker, the one you caught with Eunbi a bit over a year ago.

For the first time, you stop your mindless staring at the screen. You pause the security footage as rage builds up at this stupid expression on this stupid face. Without hesitation, you reach for the glass and repeatedly smash it into the screen. It breaks in violent sparks and the room goes fully dark.

You tear the screen off the wall, the same way you tear out the self-pity in your sorrow-filled heart. A violent kick sends the monitor into the computer and the thousand dollar set-up is reduced to broken scrap metals and torn wires.

The entire office is suddenly so dark and silent. Not that you were watching with sound, but the vivid pictures produced enough sounds in your head. It's all gone now, together with the dirty light displaying dirty pleasure.

Don't lie to yourself; this was stupid. But as much as it was stupid, it was also necessary and it felt so right. Even though your favorite whiskey glass fell victim to your rampage, you don't regret it. You need more of this.

Throughout the entire night, you continue to mess up your workplace. You stuff bins and trash cans with everything in your office: Semi-important documents, plants, cables, liquor, chairs and especially all the unnecessary, lavish accessoires you gathered here for some reason. At dawn, the only thing that remains is a table, a chair, a laptop with a charger and a bottle of water. A frugal set-up, but more than enough for your job.

At 6:30 am, you arrive at home and jump right into bed, next to your snoring wife. With a quick glance you check her hand; the ruby embellished gold ring sparkles at her finger. A real, absurdly expensive piece of jewelry on a fake piece of shit, you think but smile nonetheless. There is some irony about it that you can't pin down yet, but you'll look for it a bit more.

A knock at your door.

"Come on in," you say without looking up from your screen. It's probably the intern again, asking for help or another task. To your surprise, it's someone far more important.

"Still feels weird, when you remember what this room used to look like." A man, two decades older than you and a decade more work experience in this company carefully scoots into your office and wanders around it. "It's surprisingly vast."

You close your laptop when the man does not watch. It's out of respect, but for some reason, you do not fear him anymore. His name is Sakimoto, member of the board of directors and chairman of the staff council. Usually, there is only one reason for him to come into your office himself—and it's not a good one.

"How can I help you, Mr. Sakimoto?" you say with an insincere smile.

"Tell me," he responds, eyes wide in either insanity or genuine interest, hard to tell with someone like him. "Why did you throw it all away? It looks like a cell."

"It—to be honest, I—

"Well that's the point. None of the stuff is helpful in any way, even worse, it's distracting, unnecessary bullshit that keeps me from focusing. I don't need it, I don't want it anymore."

Sakimoto nods at your words, his expression never changing, not even at the use of your obscene slip. Maybe being a psychopath is a job requirement for Sakimoto's position. You can't bear to look at his slight smile and wide orbs any longer.

"Intriguing," he finally says and turns towards your door again. "You'll be at the board meeting tonight, 8pm flat."

"Yes, Sir," you calmly say, something grinding on your nerves as Sakimoto leaves without saying goodbye or closing the door. That's it, career over.

They’re gonna fire me, fuck.

This thought knocks on your mind the entire day, only getting stronger with every step you take towards the meeting room. Someone must have noticed your indefensible, erratic behavior, but how? Everyone was gone that night like they all are every night. You made sure of it by checking the nearby offices of your subordinates and co-workers. You even made sure to stuff all your furniture and electronics down to the bottom of the waste containers.

Maybe the board had a meeting and someone heard something? Fuck, that can’t be it, can it?

Deep breaths, calm breaths. If they know what happened, your fate is decided. You have enough money anyways. Other companies will still take you. You’re gonna be okay, this is just a small hit, a dent in the fast, unstoppable car that is you. If you’re honest, it’s a lot easier when you don’t care about the passenger or who she is fucking.

Bang the door thrice with confidence. The silence behind it becomes even more quiet, until someone urges you to enter in a strict, booming voice.

“You are a bit early,” the CEO says from the far end of the long table, his back to the setting sun visible through large windows behind him. The other board members look at you, some with a perfect poker face as if they are in serious business talks, others seem amused, maybe even a little tipsy, but what surprises you the most are those who look at you in anger and fear as if you were the grim reaper, coming for their souls.

“Better than being too late,” you respond with charme, your calm heart picking up in pace.

“That is true!” the vice-CEO shouts and most board members fall into a short fit of laughter. They seem so odd, maybe they are making fun of you before forcing you to sign the resignation. You can already see the stack of paper in the CEO’s hand.

“Enough of this nonsense,” the CEO shouts. The laughs evaporate instantly, yet somehow, the positive vibes remain. The vice-CEO is grinning at you, even the CEO himself cracks a smile. He gets up from his chair, the paper firmly in both of his hands, and walks around the table towards you. Your feet seem to grow roots as he stops before you.

“Congratulations, Mr. Kwon,” he says cheerfully and hands you an—

“Official Invitation to the Board of Directors,” you read out loud in utter disbelief.

“Mr. Kwon, why do you sound so shocked?” someone in the back asks and the CEO nods towards them with a sly grin.

“I did not inform him about our vote last week. Even Mr. Sakimoto only told him to be here today.

“Mr. Kwon, do you accept our invitation? You will be the thirteenth member, as Mr. Muentrich-Schleuser will resign next month. We all think that you are physically and mentally capable, have the pedigree and skill and most importantly, the outstanding drive to push this company forward. The growth in your department has been unmatched the past few months.”

The smooth, freshly printed piece of paper is in your hand. The other members gradually rise from their seats, all looking at you intently. They seemed so much bigger, when you entered the room, but now they are just like you. All you have to do is take the CEO’s stretched out hand, and you’ll be atop a mountain you never even dreamed of reaching.

“D-do I have any other choice?” you say cooly, only your stutter betrays your facade. A couple of chuckles, the CEO looks at the ceiling and pretends to think.

“Well, you can’t go back to your apartment, as your successor has already been chosen. You could be transferred to Japan and lead the department there. It’d be the same pay as here but—”

He leans closer to whisper.

“—you’d have to pay more taxes there.

“What will it be, Mr. Kwon?”

You find yourself on the road again. Somehow, fate has you connected to your car. Whenever something big happened or is about to happen, you find yourself sitting in it, music blasting loud and numbing everything out. Tonight however, you purposefully turn the radio off and drive carefully.

Let me celebrate somewhere; but where?

You won’t go home to your wife of course. She is more than undeserving to celebrate this moment with you. Most of your other friends and relatives are either asleep already or would ask stupid questions about Eunbi and why she isn’t celebrating alongside you. No, you need someone to not ask you about anything and just parties the night away.

Ah fuck it; strangers will do.

Park your car at the side of the road, don’t care for a ticket, hell, don’t give a fuck if someone decides to steal it. It’s used and you can easily buy a new one tomorrow if you want to. You wander down the street, busy with party-goers, drunk, high or both, some are a lot more focused and carry their drunk, high or both friends home. You loosen your tie, no need to look formally if everyone around you doesn’t either.

Suddenly, a familiar sight, a wooden structure with warm lights and that unmistakable smell. It’s almost nostalgic, magnetic, unavoidable, you just have to walk in there. As you grab the handle of the door and see the long, smooth, wooden counter, it hits you.

Oh my God.

“Oh, wow, haven’t seen you here in forever,” the bartender says when he sees you. His face hasn’t changed, his smile is the same, but you need a few moments to really recognize him again.

He takes a step back and smirks, firm grasp on a bottle of tequila.

“Well, yes, it has,” you respond and walk up to him. “It has easily been a year since my last visit, how the fuck do you remember me?”

“I have this tendency to remember people, especially because you were the last man to ever take her backstage.”

He winks and you throw your head back. Time flies, it really does, yet you find yourself sitting on the exact same stool on a very similar night with the same bartender. Even your wife is still a whore, fucking the same guys, probably right now as well.

“So I take it that Hyewon is not coming here anymore?” you sigh and point at an expensive bottle of wine. The bartender swiftly uncorks it.

“I did not say that. She is just a lot more, let’s call it, picky. Okay, you know what?”

With an elegant pour he fills you a glass and places the dark ruby liquid on the counter before continuing.

“You can ask her yourself. She’ll be on stage in a couple minutes.”

A waft of wine hits your nostrils, but it’s a lot weaker than the words coming from his mouth. The thought of Hyewon blows you away, stronger than any liquor, no matter how high the amount of alcohol or the years it has matured. Hyewon, the kind stranger, the hot stranger, the stranger to fuck your stress out. Hyewon, the crazy friend, the bisexual friend, the let's-have-a-bar-backstage- threesome-with-this-hot-singer-friend. She was a big reason why you got over Eunbi cheating on you—but it has sadly not led you to the brightest of futures.

Maybe I should have stayed with her.

Take a sip of the wine. It’s delicious, celebratory, a drink for victors who have gained status and wealth beyond imagination, and you are now part of that group. At least you feel like it, even as the bar gets flooded with more and more people from all walks of life. Some look as well-dressed as you are, others clearly struggle to make ends meet in some months, but they're all here for the same thing.

Wait, what is Hyewon going to do on stage? Is she going to sing?

As you still wonder and savor the wine, one of the waitresses moves from light switch to light switch and slowly but surely fills the room in darkness. The crowd goes quiet as tension rises. Everyone is excited for sure, but none of them reach the level of thrill you feel when the spotlight illuminates the stage and a beautifully dressed woman appears behind the curtain.

Resounding cheers, applause, the occasional toast around you, inside you, but all you can do is watch in awe. Hyewon looks angelic, on one hand illegally beautiful, on the other illegally hot. Something about her is distant yet warm, unreachable yet magnetic, strangulating for the heart yet easy for the lunges—she is oxygen, or even better—the breathable air of heaven.

Hyewon.

Confidence in her stance which silences the crowd again, confidence in her hands which raise the mic to her glossy lips, most importantly, confidence in her voice as she starts the song with a powerful low note that almost throws you off the stool.

It shouldn’t be such a shock. Hyewon’s voice is mesmerizing, you should have noticed it when she spoke to you or at least when she moaned, but only now you see the full beauty of it. It’s befitting of her, and you will enjoy every second of it. She carries this song gracefully, giving it a special touch that will keep the listeners yearning for a studio version, which would be an efficient side hustle for her.

Wait, what if Hyewon becomes a musician, with songs on the radio and the first glimmers of fame? What if she is already quite popular, an underground artist on the rise, from covering songs to writing her own? What if there is a whole story happening in her life that you missed entirely, just because you stuck to your whore-wife and mind-numbing job? This fear of having missed out on something this big and beautiful, maybe even life itself, shakes your heart with a strong aching, until—

Another voice. The first verse, the pre-chorus, the build-up, it all leads to another voice coming in with unbridled power and passion. It cannot be contained in the way it booms through the speakers and puts goosebumps on every single person in this room. You’re included in this list, but when you recognize the voice and see the woman step out on stage, those goosebumps turn to a full-on rush of nostalgic emotions.

Back then, her singing was the catalyst for an unforgettable night. Unexpectedly wild, a lot of fun, but the stinging arrow of envy made things bitter-sweet for you. Watching the two of them be so close, intimate and loving had you yearning for more than just enraged sex. You wanted this too, and there was a time where Eunbi provided it. But the veil has been lifted. There is no love, just despair.

Yuri.

It’s certainly a touching thing, seeing that Hyewon and Yuri are still close friends, connected through the language of music. Apparently they were always here, right in this inconspicuous bar, pulling the stress out of people with nothing but their voices, which combine at the end of the second verse and rush ahead into the chorus. It’s an invasion of your ears, low and high, soft and powerful, caring and overwhelming.

This performance is greatness, the best of what humanity has to offer—and you feel like the embodiment of an embittered, wasted life.

Yuri hits the final note with such perfection that the first few people have already jumped up from their seats and cheered without holding back. Thunderous applause is an understatement to how hard everyone claps their hands or stomps the ground. They’re shaking the entire bar, which has the bartender holding onto some of the bottles with a worried smile. You on the other hand are glued to your seat in deep regret. Not enough to make you cry, but enough to keep you from giving the two angels what they deserve.

Take a look at your wine. It has been untouched in your glass for a while now and it’d be a waste to throw it away just because you’re facing the cold, harsh truth again. What even is true at this point? Not the stuff you promise your customers and certainly not your relationship. Fuck it, take a large sip.

“They are awesome,” the bartender gasps. “They should finally do this professionally, this stage is too small for them.”

“Yeah,” you answer with a weak smile. “Imagine an entire stadium full of people being this ecstatic. The world would hear it.”

“Well, I tried my best convincing them,” he says and looks right next to you with a sly grin. “Maybe you have more success than I did.”

Time freezes when you feel the familiar busty body around your own. You did not see Hyewon launching herself at you, don't realize what's happening until she starts talking.

"Oh my God, it has been so long! Wait, is it really you?"

"Hyewon, I, uhm, yeah. I'm me."

"It's so crazy to see you again! How are you, how is life?"

"Well, it's—"

Hyewon squeezes your body tighter. She pouts when you look down at her until you finally get it. Return the embrace and Hyewon squeals in happiness.

"You don't have to say anything," she coos softly. "I'm just happy to see you again."

"Likewise," you respond with a sigh.

You could stand around like this for eternity. Hyewon's deep breaths and her steadily decreasing heart rate start to heal you from within. The pain and suffering caused by Eunbi's constant cheating, it doesn't matter right now. You deserve a break from the mess that is your life—you feel like you can celebrate your promotion for real now.

"Hyewon, I—no, you. You were wonderful on stage. Your singing, it blew me away."

As you gush about her performance, Hyewon blushes and disconnects the hug. You notice that she has this heavenly aura around her, like she is spraying sparks of love and happiness that try to ignite everyone around her. No wonder that she had this excellent stage presence during her duet.

"Thank you so much—

"Oh, babe~ I'm here~"

You jump at Hyewon's sudden call, which is not directed at you of course. Before your eyes can search for the person Hyewon just called babe, they have already arrived. Delicate fingers entwined with Hyewon's, they both go for a quick peck on the lips.

"Yu-Yuri?"

Your shriek makes the duo—the couple?—look at you with wide eyes, glossy and full of love for life—for each other? There is still too much to process for your brain, it can't handle another input.

"Hey, is everything alright?" Yuri asks with concern in her voice and a caring hand on your elbow.

"Ye-yeah, ju-just not up to date at all. Are you two like… a thing?"

Hyewon has this bright smile on her face. She wraps an arm around Yuri's hip and the younger girl leans her head on her collarbone. Yuri raises a hand up to your face. There is a simple silver ring on it, and you see her eyes scintillate when she shows you it.

"We married two months ago," Hyewon giggles. "So much has happened since we met last time. I can’t really sum it up."

"Don't feel forced to explain yourself," you respond with an awkward laugh. "We had a short stint a while back, I only saw you falling for each other—

beyond that, our lives have happened far apart. But not going to lie, I'd love to hear your story if you're down for it."

Hyewon and Yuri share a glance and then start to laugh for seemingly no reason. It turns into a full fit that suddenly has you in a tight, three way hug.

"We'd love to," Yuri says when she catches her breath again. "After all, you somewhat got us together. I told Hye that we should try to invite you to the marriage."

"Nah, it's good. How about I pay for the first round of drinks because of your amazing performance and then for the second round 'cuz I got a big promotion today."

"What if I want a third round though?" Hyewon asks jokingly.

"Babe, you can never handle three rounds," Yuri responds with sass and pulls the two of you to a nearby table.

"Looks like you just qualified yourself to pay for the third round then, Yuri."

"Like I said," Yuri babbles, her pitch high as the love story reaches its conclusion. "Hye was so scared to tell her father, but I had already bought the rings and planned the dresses, the cake—her mom was literally involved in everything—so on a Saturday night I poured her a third tequila shot—look how done she is after only two!"

Yuri points at her wife, whose head rests on her shoulder with heavy eyes and a rosy hue on her cheeks. Hyewon is in a drunk-dazed heaven, smiling stupidly, while trying to disagree with sounds that almost sound like words.

"Anyways, she was loose and so I dragged her over, we told him and—it was a stressful minute, I tell you that—after a minute he hugged us wordlessly. We kinda had no idea what it meant but during the wedding he looked happy, at peace basically."

"Okay, wow that is—"

Even your tenth reaction to Hyewon and Yuri's story, from threesome over dating to coming out to marriage, is cut short, this time by Hyewon groaning out a functioning sentence from her lip stick and alcohol covered lips.

"Babe, you, you forgot the part where, when you had to quit your job then."

"Oh, I'd love to hear about that too!" you quickly add, reminiscing about their amazing vocal performance. "Why did you decide to only sing for a living?"

Yuri puts on a sad smile as she strokes Hyewon's hair. Her gaze rests upon her empty glass, her orbs turn glassy for a moment then she shakes her head as if to shrug off what's bothering her.

"That's just about, you know, my former job. When I quit because we wanted to focus on music, some were angry because they thought I abandoned the team for childish dreams while others were… not so supportive of us. Ah, just forget it, it's fine."

"Sorry you had to go through it and sorry for bringing it up," you quickly apologize.

"Jeez, I said it's fine, don—"

"Let me make it up to you with a third round and the promise to meet the two of you here again."

Raise your hand to call the waiter while Yuri searches for something in Hyewon's pocket, but the older keeps nuzzling closer and closer as she dozes off. When the drinks arrive, Yuri slips you a phone.

"Put in your numbern" she whispers. "I bet she'll want to hear more from you too."

"Thank you. I assume you don't want to hear from me then?" you chuckle.

"That's right!" Yuri shouts and lifts her glass on high, so the entire bar can hear her. "I'm only here for the drinks. Cheers!"

Even the greatest party needs to come to an end at some point. 3am is when you pay for the drinks and call a cab. You barely find your way up the drive way into your house, which is not that bad, because now you don’t need to go sleep in the same bed as Eunbi and instead have the couch for you alone. It has never been so cozy.

Speaking of Eunbi, her acting is almost great. She apparently was so worried about you last night, and all the other nights the last couple of months. Now she found you on the couch, an obvious hangover by the way you scrunch your forehead. She puts her hand on your shoulder, rubbing it in circles, playing the worried wife like it’s in her script.

“No, this looks wrong, I swear,” you try to laugh it off but Eunbi is just getting closer. God, you can smell all the other people on her. It’s like she showered in a dozen different men’s perfume and deodorant just to taunt you. Ignore the mocking, you’re above this.

“Then what is it supposed to look like, babe?” Eunbi asks, her eyes wide and shimmering. “I’m willing to believe you, but you have to tell me why you got so wasted.”

“Well, I…”

It’s best to mix the lie with some truth to the point where you might believe it yourself.

“I, surprisingly, got a great promotion, and we went out partying for a long ti—”

“Oh my God, babe, that’s awesome!”

Out of nowhere, Eunbi casts aside all her concern and launches herself atop of you. You immediately tense up. Feeling the incredible curves of her body has never felt so wrong, so traumatic. Groan and put a palm to your temple to signal her your distress, but she continues to bounce on your lap.

“All your heart work paid off, I’m so proud!” she shouts gleefully, her arms tight around your throat in what looks like a loving embrace but feels a lot more like someone strangling you. “I almost thought you were out there getting addicted to whiskey every night.”

And you are addicted to men, Eunbi.

Addicted to sex, to being unloyal, to being creamed by other men.

You are the addict, you heartbreaking bitch.

But the words don’t come out. They run circles in your head while Eunbi’s clothed entrance rubs circles over your not-growing, not-aroused dick. You’re not going to surrender to her fuckable body, instead gently pushing her sides and groaning unduly.

“Yeah, no, this was a one time thing. I should sober up, my head fucking hurts.”

“Should I get you some water and painkillers?” Eunbi asks and gets off of your lap to jog to the kitchen.

“Yes, please—”

—and then get out of my life.

The following months brought some drastic changes. Not only is your work harder, it’s also not optional anymore. You started to put up better numbers because of your overtime work, which was due to Eunbi. Now, you can’t escape it anymore. Working from 6am to 10pm is normal, hell, on some days you wish you could sleep three hours.

But everytime you look at your new bank account—can’t let Eunbi have all the access—it all seems worth it. The pay is ungodly, you have way too much money. Even after taxes and buying two new cars to not look ‘broke’ next to all the other board members, you still have no clue what to do with all of it. Two or three more years, and you could retire wealthy beyond belief. Begs the question why these people usually don’t and continue working.

Another change to your life comes through Hyewon and Yuri. By themselves, they installed a new social life in your life. At least two times per month, the three of you meet up in a bar. You get to know new people, entirely different from you, but also basically the same. Everyone is tired from work, so it’s time to drink and party. You almost forgot how good it feels to have a variety of friends—from those that are perfect for loose parties to those that deeply care about you.

Hyewon is the best of those friends. Nothing about your brief yet intense past seems to stick on her. She is chill around you, goofy and not at all awkward. Yuri is quite similar, though a bit more extravagant and flamboyant, which makes them the absolute gay-power couple. They just click, it’s perfect, young love.

“Reminds me of myself.” Your lips betray you.

“What?” Hyewon shouts back, over the obnoxiously loud bass of the rock band on stage.

“Ah, nothing. Just a little envious~” you respond with fake annoyance and raise your glass for a toast. Hyewon hesitates, very out of character.

“Nah, I’m not toasting your glass before you tell me what you mean,” Hyewon says and stares into your soul with her drunk, teary eyes. Maybe she is not that drunk? Maybe you can finally open up about it?

“Really, it’s nothing.”

“Nuh-uh, tell me outside.”

And with that, Hyewon walks out the front door, you in tow as your tie becomes completely undone and your shirt is a mess. Outside you do not find privacy, just a lot of strangers talking, laughing, smoking. This time you pull Hyewon further down the street next to your parked Porsche, where it’s less likely for someone to hear you.

“Now you gotta… tell me,” Hyewon babbles.

“You are drunk, you’re not gonna remember it anyways.”

“Nuh-uh,” she says again, hitting your chest with her long, painted nails. “You need to spill it now, I’ll remember. Like I remember you only asking about me and Yuri and never talking about yourself.”

She’s spot on. You never wanted to talk about it. Eunbi’s name is pain, you don’t need to make the newfound pleasure and joy in your life go away because of her. This cheating whore—she should just go away at this point.

“You remember why we met?” you carefully ask Hyewon, testing if she is capable of understanding even though she is under heavy influence.

“Yes, your girl cheated on you.”

“Guess what: I married that girl.”

“Oh,” Hyewon says and after some delay smiles brightly. “So you talked it out and things got better? That’s why you didn’t come back, right?”

“Let’s just say that,” you gulp and your hands form fists. “Some people don’t change.”

“Fuck,” Hyewon’s pointy heels hit the sidewalk hard. “I’m sorry about that. Was it a bad divorce?”

“Huh? She still lives with you? In the same house? You share the same bed?”

“I—I did not divorce her.”

“I-I did not say that!”

“But it’s true!” Hyewon steps closer and grabs your collar. “I can see it in your eyes, you can’t let go. You hate her, but you can’t throw her away, although she deserves it.”

You want to grab Hyewon’s wrist, push her to the side and run away shouting words of denial that you are stronger than this, that she is wrong, that she doesn’t get it. However, Hyewon doesn’t deserve it—even worse, she is absolutely right.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Yes,” she whispers and lets go. The two of you lean onto the Porsche in silence, watching customers of the bar pass by without worries, without hate, without defeat. The liquor has done wonders, turning a negative week positive. The same can’t be said about you. You feel exposed, utterly defeated by Hyewon’s words.

“Fuck you,” you groan, face hidden in hands. “Fuck you for being right, Hyewon.”

“Sorry, but you had to hear it,” she responds and pats your back. “You need to tear her out of your life, like a terribly written chapter in a book or like awful lyrics that you wrote while high on midnight wine and sex.

“You get me?”

“I think.”

“Good.”

The world might not be good at this moment, yet Hyewon’s reassurance, her slow pats on your shoulder, her strong posture in her stunning red dress and the loving, tipsy smile on her beaming face are enough to show you the light of a better world.

“What about you?” you suddenly ask, wiping away tears you did not weep. “Something you’re hiding or keeping down?”

Hyewon looks away, her smile filling with a hint of agony, though nothing of her stunning beauty fades.

“You got me there. It’s something that’s been bugging me for maybe half a year. I know I shouldn’t but—I can’t get away from the thought, you know?”

“I would know if you would tell me,” you say playfully. Now it’s your turn to massage her shoulder, give reassurance, though you don’t know if you have any.

“It’s just that I—

“I want to have a child—my child. I love Yuri more than anything, I will never regret choosing her and only her, but this longing… it does not go away.”

“And adopting is not an option? S-sorry if that was insensitive…”

“No, it’s fine. I just want to be pregnant and raise my child together with her. You know what, forget that. It has to remain a dream.”

Suddenly, a friend of both you and Hyewon sprints out of the bar and looks around in dramatic panic until he finds the two of you. He takes leaps towards you, almost lands face first on the concrete before catching his small frame and coming to a halt.

“Hyewon,” he gasps out in between huffs and puffs. “Yuri is—she is so full, completely—you know?”

“That girl,” Hyewon sighs.

You return home on the same night. Your chat with Hyewon sucked out all the power the liquor usually has over you. It means that you are able to think about her words and take her seriously, but you’ll also have to live with Eunbi laying next to you, smelling like foreign sweat and cum again. You could choose the couch, but you haven’t gotten around to having it replaced with a couch where it’s better to sleep on.

The moment you open the main door, you hear screams coming from the bedroom. Deja Vu, not the subtle kind, more like a fucking train running you over. You still remember the one time she did it almost two years ago where you caught her. This is basically the same. The same sounds, the same gut wrenching punch to your gut, hell, even the groans by the guy sound the same—

Could it be?

Eunbi, in her brand new bikini, rides the same fucking guy from back then while he has his disgusting, greedy hands all over her skin, spanking it and making her scream even louder.

Like a silent assassin, you sneak towards the slightly ajar bedroom door. Dimmed lights illuminate the room which is filled by the smell of sex and the repetitive sounds of skin on skin. You take out your phone and use it as a mirror to catch a glimpse of what’s happening.

“You like that, you whore?” he growls at her, smiling stupidly dazed.

“Yes, oh God! Hit my tits!”

“I swear to God, your husband must be such a faggot for not immediately fucking you in that outfit. You look like a fucking breeding cow!”

“Yes, I’m cumming!”

“He can’t make you cum!”

The guy squeezes, then twists Eunbi’s breasts as she trembles, screams and squirts to an absolutely ridiculous level, one that even pornography can ot reach. She lets herself fall forward and the guy finishes inside her after a couple of thrusts. His rancid cum leaks out from every corner of Eunbi’s loose pussy.

You almost throw up. You hurry towards the front door and hide in the back of your car. There is rage, embarrassment, pain—you can’t confront her, hell, you can’t even confront him when he leaves the house like a king, the sun slowly rising in the background.

Your mind is empty, empty to the point it’s completely clear. You wait for Eunbi to fall asleep, then collect all the camera’s you have installed and throw them in a public trash bin. Afterwards, you clean up the house, dusting off as quietly as possible while also collecting dirty clothes to wash them (there is fucking leftover cum on some of her clothes and towels).

Lastly, you lay down next to her for a second and check if she has cleaned herself properly.

This fucking whore, I—

“Honey, sorry for not making it last night,” you shout, pretending to come home at 5am. Eunbi shrieks and shoots up, still dressed in the brown bikini, still cum oozing from her cunt. She tries to hide herself underneath a blanket.

“Ba-babe, tha-that’s totally fine,” she responds nervously, looking very puzzled because of your tired yet bright smile.

“I saw you cleaned the house, it looks wonderful!” you compliment her.

“I, uhm.”

“Hey, even the washing machine is running—and did you bring out the trash already?”

“Well, I—”

“God, you look so hot in that bikini,” you lean down to her and cup her bountiful breasts. “I could devour you right now. Did you really wear it just for me?”

“I—

Eunbi hesitates, turns away for a second to look out of the window. She is thinking about it, clearly. This is where her final redemption can start, the way to salvation is to reveal all of her sin, the only way she can come back is to…

“I’m glad you noticed, babe,” she says with the fakest of smiles. “And yes, I would only wear this for you. B-but I’m not feeling it right now, you understand?”

You nod.

“I love you, Eunbi.”

You lying devil.

How did you end up here?

“Are you sure about this, Yuri?”

“Yes, do you really want this, babe?”

Yuri folds her arms and raises both her eyebrows.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Yes, I want this!”

With all doubts seemingly out of the way, the three of you make your way to the bedroom. Hyewon’s and Yuri’s apartment is small, but very cozy, the perfect place to live a relaxed, problem free life.

But they decided to get you involved. You’re a problem here. Sure, you might have helped at starting their relationship in the first place, but now you’re here for chaos.

Hyewon sinks onto the sheets first, Yuri’s fingers entangled with hers. Your fingers find the hem of Hyewon’s short dress. The angelic garment feels incredible, pure even in your hand and so you only hike it up with care, deeply in awe of what you’re about to see.

Meanwhile, Hyewon is a lot less pedantic and awestruck. She yanks Yuri closer, shortly fiddles with the button of her jeans and then quickly starts to undress her wife. The denim is quickly gone and before Hyewon can attack the white lace panties, Yuri shoves her lover's face into them.

“Use your precious tongue, honey~”

Oops, you almost started to stare for too long. Better continue your hike up Hyewon’s beautiful, bountiful legs to her holy sanctuary, covered by the same lace she so greedily licks and nibbles on. Your digits hook into the white fabric and slowly pull it down, making Hyewon melt further into Yuri’s pussy.

“You’re getting so excited, huh~?” Yuri teases and pats Hyewon’s head. The older girl nods while you start to fold her dress to finally see her wet, shaven cunt. You can smell the excitement, the arousal, the anticipation of what is about to happen to her. Now you consider yourself lucky to not have slept with anyone, which potentially avoided any and all STDs.

It lets you create trouble.

How did you end up here?

It’s two days after Hyewon officially asked you to impregnate her. Tomorrow she will ask her wife in what you can only imagine will be the most stressful talk in her entire life. Today however, is not tomorrow. Today is the day you got your STD test back. Hyewon wanted you to take it for if things go her way and Yuri actually agrees to this chaotic proposal.

To no surprise, the results are negative. After all, you haven’t touched Eunbi in forever and by the way she lets seemingly everyone cum inside her, you wouldn’t be surprised if she caught anything. In the end, that was not enough however. You needed to make sure.

A bottle of champagne, neatly placed on the living room table. You put some decorations around it. Eunbi will appear here any minute, you told her you have a surprise waiting, something that will make her speechless, breathless even.

“Hey, honey,” Eunbi announces her return, grocery bags in hands. “What is it you wanted to tell me?”

“Eunbi, I—the reason why I even took a day off is—nah, come on over! Let’s raise a glass first, shall we!”

The glasses are already filled, well prepared. Eunbi seems utterly perplexed. “Champagne in the middle of the day? Honey, what are you planning~?”

Trouble, bitch.

“Oh, yes, eat me, Hye, eat me.”

Yuri has started to tear off her t-shirt, the top underneath as well, to sit on Hyewon’s face completely naked. You on the other hand have only fished out your hard cock, which the incredible display of passion and erotic has surely made harder than ever. The straps of Hyewon’s dress have also started to fall down her shoulders. Finally, the chaos is coming together.

“The two of you are so hot,” you compliment and lean towards them.

“I know,” Yuri responds in between moans and grinds her soaking pussy more and more on Hyewon’s mouth. “Your mouth is so pretty, so go-good.”

“Hyewon, are you ready?” you ask the woman below you, her nipples peeking out from her dress, her legs spread wide and invitingly and her pussy twitching when you rub up and down her labia.

Hyewon finds her way out from in between Yuri’s thighs and rests her head back against her lover’s tight stomach. Deep breaths and eyes of absolute need signal you that yes, she is more than ready. The same goes for Yuri, who is on the one hand very fixated on rubbing and drooling all over Hyewon’s collarbone, while her eyes are focused on your cock.

“Watch him closely,” Yuri whispers. “He is going to give you our child.”

With that, you push inside of Hyewon’s awaiting pussy.

“What are we celebrating? Did you get another promotion?”

Eunbi looks genuinely curious. Strange, she hasn’t asked about your work at any previous point in time, unless it was about when you would be home. Keep the sarcasm to yourself, you don't want to spoil the actual surprise.

"Oh, sweety," you laugh with full bass. "No more promotions needed, we are set for life. Which is why I bought a new house!"

"No, you didn't!" Eunbi shouts and almost drops the glass.

"Careful, careful, don't spill it."

"Oh my God, you are crazy. Where is this house? Still in Korea or…"

You raise your glass towards her and smirk.

"I'll only tell you if you would do me the honor."

Eunbi reciprocates the smirk.

"Of course, darling."

The two of you set the glasses to your lips. Your eyes are wide open, your heart beats in an uncontrollable flurry as you watch Eunbi down the champagne quickly, almost in one go. You're quick to follow, while a new wind of fresh air fills your nostrils.

This should not feel this good.

"Ah!"

Hyewon screeches when you pierce her tight pussy open. She clings onto her wife's thighs, gripping them tightly while blurting her initial, high-pitched moans straight into the pussy above her.

"You take it so well, baby," Yuri groans and rubs Hyewon's breasts with the sweaty palms of her hands. "Squeeze him dry."

Place both hands on Hyewon’s hips and begin to slowly pump into the woman, your cock stretching her walls, filling her whole. When Yuri suddenly starts to play with the small, hidden clit above the entrance, Hyewon becomes noticebly wetter, to the point where you hear the wet sounds of her arousal. It spreads around her crotch, your crotch, her legs, your legs, the bed’s legs, until everything is a glorious mess.

“Oh, I can feel him inside you, baby,” Yuri husks as her hand roams Hyewon’s abdomen. She has gotten off her lover's face and is now gazing at it, her eyes lustful, demanding for Hyewon to be bred. “Soon, I’ll feel something else knock from inside.”

“Yu-Yuri, I’m getting close!” Hyewon screeches, her fingers wrapping around your wrists as you grip her pale body tighter and tighter as she gets tighter and tighter. “I’m about to—”

“Don’t hold back,” Yuri demands and her hand slips down to Hyewon’s clit again and rubs furiously. “I want to see you cum, cum as you finally receive this gift.”

Well, there goes the last shadow of a doubt that Yuri might have something against this crazy idea. Turns out she is even more insane than you or Hyewon. She gets off on you pounding, dominating her wife and she does the same, finally choking Hyewon’s throat gently while bringing her to a loud, splashing orgasm. From the corner of her eye, you see her urging you to not cum yet.

If she just knew how hard this is with Hyewon wringing all over your lubricated, diamond-like cock. Her pussy sucks you in, takes your breath away, yet you are able to make Yuri’s wish come true. Just close your eyes and imagine something normal is happening, a walk in the park, a nice summer breeze, the beautiful green of the leaves—

“You are so hot, baby, eat me~”

Yuri climbs on top of Hyewon’s face again, her subtle ass turned towards you as she slams her pussy on Hyewon’s panting mouth and rubs herself all over the most flushed, most perfect features to ever graze the earth. Hyewon is barely able to stick out her tongue to tickle Yuri’s clit and it’s so endearing, you just have to make it more difficult for her.

Fold Hyewon. It's as easy as folding a piece of paper. Hyewon’s feet dangle in the air, her toes curl frantically, trying to reach the ceiling to find grip, but she is helpless. At first she lost control over her body due to the mind-blowing orgasm, now it’s because Yuri and you use her as you please. Hyewon is a tool for pleasure and she couldn’t feel more pleasure.

“Your tongue, baby, put it in—ah!” Yuri’s climax was predictable. Her small frame trembles throughout, her adorable butt is right in front of you. You take a risk and fold Hyewon further, your lips now right on Yuri’s cheek. Your lick right across it. “N-not you! B-but don’t stop now!”

So you continue. Your tongue travels all over Yuri’s cheeks, an adventure almost as good as the adventure your cock takes inside Hyewon, exploring every single place inside her scorching cunt. You eventually end up in Yuri’s butt, twirling your tongue, getting her addictive taste on your tastebuds. Sadly, you’re unable to go all out on Hyewon in the meantime, so she scrapes your shoulders, probably feeling neglected. When you look down however, she opens her mouth wide and begs in the most adorable, lewd voice:

“Share?”

You drool right into the awaiting Hyewon, transferring the taste of her wife’s asshole, but it’s not enough, you need to dive into her lips and force her tongue around in her mouth. There is no other option, you need to melt into Hyewon to give her the perfect child, a child conceived under the most ridiculous, feverish and unexplainable circumstances possible.

Yuri’s nails dig in your neck.

“Enough fun. Give her your fucking cum!”

Open your eyes a final time to find Hyewon, fucked silly, sweat, tears, girl cum all over her face and hair, eyes barely open, mouth barely closed—why is she more perfect, the messier she gets? You thrust deeply a couple of times and with a final sprint, you finish the race, with Hyewon bred and Yuri rubbing her clit in a daze.

“Don’t pull out yet,” she babbles. “I need to—fuck—I need to get the plug first.”

“It needs to look like champagne, untraceable, no weird smells or anything.

“Yes, I know that that is fucking elaborate and costly, I don’t care.

“Do you want to be on the board or not? I thought so.

“We have a deal then.

“Hm? No, her death does not need to be quick.”

Infact, I want it to be as long and painful as possible.

# 20 years later #

You open the window and watch the wind splash water against the shore of Malta. This view alone is worth thirty million euros apparently—you’re inclined to agree. The blue of the ocean meets the white stones, it’s a perfect match. No matter how rough the wind comes and goes, no matter how high the sea levels may rise, these two will never betray each other.

A knock on your front door. The way she knocks is unmistakable. Ever since moving to this long forgotten, barely reachable island, you have never felt the need to hurry about anything. It’s all calm and quiet out here—you’d need to go back to Korea for your life to be busy again. But if you’d go back again, your need to see her would be too big.

You couldn’t do that to her mothers.

“Hello, dear Godfather,” the beautiful girl says with a smile and playfully bows her head.

“Hello, dear Godchild,” you return the smile and the bow. “Didn’t your mother teach you how to properly bow?”

“Which one?” she asks, not able to contain her laughter. “The one that sings or the one that sings?”

“It’s nice to see you again, Minju.”

I missed you, my daughter.

(A/N: I hope you all had a happy june/Pride month!)

#kpop smut #male reader insert #female idol smut #izone smut #girl group smut #male reader #male reader smut #hyewon smut #yuri smut #eunbi smut

600 notes · View notes

leggerefiore · 2 months

Note

All this Rocket stuff makes me feel for poor Silver. I really love the idea of S/O being a step-mother figure for him, even after she leaves Giovanni.

Makes it clear to future partners that the kid is a package deal and may drop in on occasion.

Silver deserves good parental figures okay? ;e;

you gave me an idea... so

cw: fluff, not super romance focused, step son silver (? lol)

pairing: Lance/Reader, Past Giovanni/Reader, Silver & Reader (Parental)

Somehow, in the madness that followed Giovanni's disbanding of Team Rocket, you of all people ended up with his son. You, his partner who was almost certainly not Silver's other biological parent, nor really the immediate person most would expect that would end up with the boy. Yet, here he was. With you. In Johto. You were not exactly going to complain, as you had been a bit worried about the boy since you had left the team and Giovanni. Silver barely had any time spent around other children his age and was already growing to accept and imitate that bad behaviour that he was growing up alongside. You knew it was not the best environment for him. Especially when Giovanni would disappear for literal days and leave Silver in the care of you or his right-hand man. The poor boy was desperate for Giovanni's attention in many ways.

You had heard his declaration that he was going to become strong all by himself, and initially refused your aid when he had come to find him in trouble with a police officer. A lie that he was simply going through a rough rebellious phase got him free, and he begrudgingly came along with you. Despite everything, you had been there for him the most out of anyone else in his life. The other Rocket admins had apparently tried to keep him close, but they failed to keep his favour enough for him to remain anywhere within their reach. All their talk about reviving Team Rocket and bringing Giovanni also scared him off, without a doubt. Instead, you found yourself watching over him. He was moody, but it would have been more concerning if he was not.

Still, you saw the sweet little boy in him that you had known the longest. Silver was quite desperate for praise and affection. You would praise his little battle strategies he would come up with the pokemon that his father would let him borrow or compliment his grades when he actually did his schoolwork. You even let him nap with his head in your lap numerous times. And, well, you were the only consistent presence in his home life most of the time. It was hectic having to feed two mouths, yet you rose up to the challenge. The idea of leaving Silver alone to fend for himself (no matter how much he may have insisted on it) left you disturbed. He was still a little boy, no matter how many times that he stated he was trying to become a man.

“… Where'd you get that pokemon, Silver?” you asked the red-head when he walked in with a Totodile. It seemed to despise him. Something in your heart already told you the answer. He was his father's child, in the end.

“From a professor…” he grumbled and walked up to you in the kitchen. His dark eyes held a bitter resentment. Though, it was not directed toward you. “I'm going on a journey. I'm going to prove myself the strongest,” he said plainly, not daring to care to ask for permission. You knew better than to try to deny him that anyway. Rolling your eyes, you instead brought a hand to ruffle his hair. From a professor, he said. You had not heard him mention being close to any professors, nor asking to be a research assistant. The truth was more plain to see. You sighed.

“Alright,” you nodded, “Call me, won't you? I'll be worried sick if you don't.” It was best to continue being a person he could turn to in his troubling times. Him coming to you to tell you that he was going out rather than just vanishing was an improvement if anything. He grumbled again at you ruffling his hair, but he did not swat your hand away.

“Fine…” Silver nodded, “I will.”

“And, Silver,” you knelt down to his level and flashed him a serious expression, “Maybe try thanking that professor.”

He swallowed in reply.

You stared deadpan at the Indigo League champion standing outside your apartment door with Silver trying to hide behind him, clearly flustered. Lance's smile was bright at you as he introduced himself and pulled forth the boy out from behind him. Silver seemed to refuse to meet your eye. Apparently, something had happened. What it could be was beyond you, but you wondered if it was related to that attempted Team Rocket revival. Archer had contacted you and asked if you wanted in, but you declined. That was all behind you, and the idea of seeing Giovanni again made you a bit irrationally angry.

“I apologise for showing up like this,” Lance was polite in his words, “I believe… You're an adult watching over him, right?” You nodded and moved to let them inside. The champion took your offer. Silver stomped inside and sat down on the couch. You sighed. This was going to be a mess, was it not? Well, you had decided to take on watching the child, so this was on you to take some responsibility for his actions. Granted, you had frequent contact with him through calls. You had heard all about his not-rival rival — some girl around his age who seemed to know just how to get under his skin by being nice. His clearing of the gyms in Johto... You thought you were pretty up-to-date on his goings-on. It seemed not.

“… He hasn't killed someone, has he?” you started off with a joke, mildly concerned with what had actually happened. Lance laughed and shook his head. Silver tensed up with wide eyes. You pat his back.

“No, no, not at all,” he continued, “See, he was asking me to take him as a protégé, and I wanted to get your permission first.” Silver turned his head to glare at the window. You blinked. Protégé? As in training him?

“Huh? Oh,” you wondered if he had been entirely forth-coming with what he had been up to. Another trait from his father. Wonderful. “Sure,” you nodded, “I don't mind, if you would.” There was no doubt that the champion would be a good influence on him. Probably better than you could ever be. “You didn't tell me you were out befriending league members, Silver,” you called out to him.

He refused to move to look at you. Even Lance appeared a bit exhausted by his behaviour. It was nothing new, but he seemed embarrassed even more so than usual. You wrapped an arm around his shoulders amicably and pulled him into your side. “Thank you for taking on my poor boy,” you said like an exasperated mother might, “I know he's a trouble-maker and horribly disrespectful. I hope you can make him an honest member of society.” Silver pulled away from you and gasped, face as red as his hair. Lance barked out a laugh.

“I-I'll try,” Lance stuttered out in between his laughs, “No promises, though.”

Lance had become quite close with you following that. You both had exchanged contact information, as he promised to keep in touch with you about Silver's issues. There was a bit more relief that someone else reliable had an eye out for him apart from you. Except… Well, when the champion had learnt that you were quite an experienced trainer on your own, he offered to battle you. This soon turned into a strangely friendly rivalry before blooming into something else. It shocked you when he offered you out to a café in Goldenrod. He showed up in normal clothing, donning a simple jacket over a t-shirt and dark pants. You could not recall if you had ever seen him out of his dragon tamer uniform — personally or professionally.

It quickly became clear that you had been invited out on a date. Part of you felt it was impossible and strange that an ex-criminal like you had caught a champion's attention so thoroughly. You found that underneath the polite and prideful veneer was a very sweet and caring man. He was oddly doting if not a bit confused. You could tell romance was not a forte for him, but his attempts were charming all on their own. There was only laughter when he bought you a Dratini keychain out on a date before, wondering if you would even enjoy such a thing. It was impossible to reject the offering after that. Even when he learnt about your past, he seemed to shake his head.

“You're clearly not the same as you were,” he had smiled while clutching your hand, “And… Whatever you did doesn't matter now. You're clearly working hard to prove that. Be a bit easier on yourself, won't you?”

His words had pierced you deep. All the shame and regret you had felt about your intimate connections to Rocket were gone in an instant. Instead, you wanted to focus on your new life with the champion and watching over Silver. It felt strange… You had not thought about dating anyone since most people were unable to come to terms with your odd situations with the boy, but… Lance did not care. Instead, he was quite happy to help you in caring for him. He was the kind of strong, firm support and authority that Silver had so desperately needed. You almost teared up as you embraced and kissed him. The champion had reciprocated your affections all the same.

“Ew,” Silver gagged when he walked in to you, pecking a kiss on Lance's lips as he got ready to head out to the league. The champion cocked up a brow at him. You shook your head in reply as you pulled away. Life had settled down pretty well for you. You and Silver had moved in with Lance after your relationship with the dragon tamer had become serious. A ring sat on your left hand to prove that. The steady home environment and consistent figures in his life had really been influential on Silver. He had stopped disappearing so frequently and came more by night. Your worries had decreased significantly.

An arm was around your shoulder as Lance pulled you into him. “Your uniform isn't proper,” he scolded the boy, who scoffed in reply. School was still not a favourite thing, but he was attending again.

“I don't care,” he grumbled and walked up to you both, “Did you really have to settle on this guy?”

You shrugged, “Could have tried to hunt down your dad if you preferred.” His face scrunched up like his Sneasel's would when smelling something citrussy. You laughed. Lance shot a strange look at you in reply. Apparently, the only thing he could not stand that you had done was actually be in a relationship with Giovanni. You supposed it was pretty bad in retrospect, but you had gotten something nice out of it. Breaking away from Lance, you stepped towards Silver and fixed his tie a bit. “Neither of you can complain about that,” you pointed out, “It's how I met both of you technically.”

Lance seemed a bit uncomfortable with that revelation, while Silver glanced away. You pulled back after finishing his tie. “I mean, I guess,” Silver relented and then gave you an unexpected hug, “Ugh… I love you.” It seemed you were being compared to his actual parents again. You hugged him back and returned his sentiment. He then pulled away to act like he had not just done that. Well, you were glad that you two were back to being closer these days. The flashes of the younger Silver you knew were things you cherished deeply.

“I love you, too,” Lance came up to put a hand on your back and say. You smiled back at him. He then asked Silver about upcoming exams, to which the boy turned pale.

You sighed.

You really did love the family you ended up with.

#pokemon x reader #pokemon lance x reader #lance x reader #lance/reader #pokemon/reader #pokemon lance/reader

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matan4il · 5 months

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911 ep 706 first watch reactions

Buck and Eddie setting up the bachelor party are so funny. They're married to a degree that the bride and groom can only aspire to one day achieve. And Madney are raising a kid together! Then again, so are Buddie, and have been since day 2... (day 1 is forever Buck ogling Eddie at the station, and Eddie strutting his stuff for him, with Buck's now canonically jealou-traction being the, ummm, lubricant)

Oh, Tommy just arrived, Buck and him have done nothing but hug, and Eddie's already bringing on the jealousy jealou-traction. IDK what is the etiquette about bringing your date to a bachelor party, but what's the rule about bringing your hubby who's jealous of your bf?

Oh, and an extra jab at Buck bringing Tommy officially as his date to the wedding. I love me a jealous Eddie. My dude, your closet is shaking so hard, it's about to push you out of itself if you don't make the move already.

Okay, in all seriousness, Tommy not dressing like the 80's, Buck showing that he really cared about that silly party theme, Eddie rolling with it, the two of them being dressed more as a couple than the actual guys dating, Buddie seeing things so much in the same way (down to both seeing themselves as the same character from Miami Vice) while Buck and Tommy are totally out of sync... I love that Tommy is there to help Buck figure himself out, but also, this is the stuff that will forever keep me shipping Buddie.

I know the flashback is mainly to show that the bachelor party is Buck's idea, and goes against Chim's wishes, but Eddie suggests the couple costume? And Buck was so readily on board? Even when he knew Tommy would also be invited? This is my house catching fire, while I sit here, mumbling to myself how fine it all is...

Okay, everyone leaving the bachelor party, even the guy Buck is dating, while Eddie stays, sure is something. And by "something" I mean "a couple." That's a couple. That's Buck's partner in everything, even dumb ass 80's costumes and failed bachelor parties, he's the one who jumps in whatever stupid plan Buck comes up with, and stays to deal with the mess.

LOL And then we got some REAL mess. Again, dumb Buck idea, and Eddie just rolling with it. Making it worse even, by suggesting how to take the party (made up of people who don't even know the groom) to Chimney. These two deserve each other. XD

Buck was behind Eddie while his shirt was being torn? Presumably helping with the tearing? That's it, 911 does not want me to make it to the end of the season with my sanity intact. I guess it's good that I'm not even trying...

I'm glad there was a representation of Chim and Kevin, and a Korean tradition, I just hope it was a truthful one. (do we have Korean viewers in our midst to chime in on this?)

Maddie using her 911 skills to find and help Chim is pretty badass (and a nice gender reversal of the 'damsel in distress needing to be saved a sec before her wedding' tale). Love it!

Maddie and Chim looked so happy during their wedding. Honestly, at the end of the day, my little hopelessly romantic heart doesn't need more than that. <3

Awwww, the Buck and Tommy kiss was nice. I think the most important part of it is we got to see Buck for the first time daring to kiss another guy, rather than wait to be kissed. I may bbe a Buddie shipper, but I think this r/s is important to Buck as well, to his ability to find what he wants, to not be scared of it, to not wait for others to want him as was the case with all the women he'd dated, but rather figure out what he wants in a certain moment, and that it's okay for him to go get it.

(I still don't think Tommy is Buck's endgame, though. Much as his probably my fave Buck r/s so far other than Eddie. Tommy not being there for Buck when the bachelor party flunked, him not being there at the wedding itself, to share this significant moment with Buck, being almost incidental to Buck's coming out to his colleagues and parents, other than being a gay that was obviously kissed by Buck just a short while ago... Again, just not the stuff great love stories are made of)

Hen going, "Finally!" to Karen was funny and cute. Everyone (almost) just smiling at Buck's coming out was nice. But the way his mom reacted in particular felt more realistic, and made me wish that at least with his parents, who we know he has a strained r/s with, the should would have allowed this to be more explored. Hopefully in a future ep if not now.

Thank you for reading! If you're looking for more, you can find my s7 reactions tag here, and more of my Buddie meta and content in my pinned post. xoxox

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pieroulette · 3 months

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a taste of cotton candy. n.yuma

PROMPT #90: sadistic protector

DIALOGUE #63: “it’s like you were made for me.”

WORDCOUNT: 4k

WARNING: yandere, noncon kissing, gore.

AUTHOR'S NOTE, it was suppose to be a 1k oneshot random prompt while working on jungwon's corpse bride but i got carried away lol. haven't written for like months, doing it on and off so my writing might be pretty crusty lol. there might be plenty of grammar errors but i still hope you enjoy it 🫶 thanku for reading ^^ also there will be no part 2s for my oneshots :)

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄? If that was the case then the thing is, you weren't so sure of who you are anymore---was what they often say. You had no idea, why.

"Who are you, even?"

"You are not you anymore."

"Do you still know who you are?"

"Think again, who were you—before you met him?"

Those are the words and questions often repeated by your dear friends and even acquaintances on random occasions, but you find their questions rather odd, weird and sometimes it comes off as plain rude in your opinion.

Why do they keep repeating the same thing over and over again. Aren't they tired?

You assume that must be the case. They must be, they must have been. They must've finally gotten tired of you by how they've inevitably left your side and from your life, even their phones was out of reach. It was as if they've disappeared with little to no trace.

Having no idea of what went wrong, it felt as if you've done nothing. But it's fine, it's totally fine, he says. You don't need them anyways. Friends never leave you, but they did. And that's what you only need to think about.

However you can't just help it wondering what went wrong. Everything was going perfectly fine till—

"You're overthinking again, aren't you? Those friends?"

A hand waves back and forth before your eyes, pulling you out of your world—looking down at your lap to see your boyfriend, Yuma laying on your lap cozily.

You shrugged, smiling a little before responding, "Nothing, it's just. . It's just too bad, isn't?"

Yuma's eyebrow furrowed in annoyance, emitting a slight scoff before pulling the blankets over his frame. "Friends don't leave you, and they did. You know that right?"

"I know." A forceful smile crept up your lips.

Yuma seems not be satisfied with your answer judging by the furrow between his eyebrow deepens. He huffs, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips which caught you off guard.

"What was that!" You let out a brief chuckle, covering your lips abashedly.

"Quit thinking about them already, they don't deserve a place in your mind so now why don't you just—" With a toothy grin, he placed your hand on his head. "Pat my hair? You like it, don't you?"

A light-hearted giggle escapes your lips, as you caressed his luscious pink hair. "Alright, alright."

"And, let's get some cotton candies later, yeah?"

You agreed giddily, concentrating on how his hair had now grown a tad bit longer just like when you met him for the first time. His hair was your favourite, you’ve grown used to ruffle his hair with into a mess, as it puts you in a state of peace, hushing away every thought that wears down your mental health.

It was like you were pulling a cotton candy apart; it reminded you of those days as a child when you ran off to the candy stand, being all giddy and bouncing off your feet as your father handed you the fluff ball resembling a cloud, and it tasted exactly like it; tickling your taste buds, divinely sweet—you almost feel this was the closest to heaven you could ever be, its fluffiness hugging your lips before collapsing on your tongue, melting away on your saliva and down your throat—inducing a huge surge of dopamine as it enters your soul.

Sheer bliss filled your little soul with its first taste.

It’s like cotton candy was always made for you, you’d like to believe it was, ever since.

So when you met the boy with the shade of his hair being all your favourite colour all while eating a cotton candy, you knew somehow that you two might became good friends, at least you thought so. The colours of cotton candy ranges from numerous variety of colours and flavours; often reminding you of the prismatic rainbow—yet the hue of soft pink and its distinctive vanilla flavour was more strongly embedded in your memories.

The chill breeze of summer illustrating his soft bouncy hair into the image you held dearly, and everything about him as he took a bit of it was all so childish; remnants of your precious childhood memories.

You had a silly brief debate in your own world that he might look like one but you'd rather him having the 'taste' of sugar. Looks aren't everything despite it being the very fact that intrigues you about him and you were so right, sickly sweet—paired with playful mischievousness that brings the very same giddiness that once washed over your little soul.

His overall personality and character was akin to the summer sun complementing the shade of his hair; his piercing cat eyes imbued in vibrance—complementing his outspoken character, yet it can be oddly warm and affectionate.

It's so stupid finding yourself giggling at such a silly thought. Maybe that was probably a silly, silly crush at first sight; with everything about him bringing the word 'sugar' into life—you almost feel like you could get a cavity spending all day and night thinking about him.

But you two grew a tad bit closer than you ever think it would be and sure it did—it was really like he was made for you. A believer of fate, strange as it may seem, perhaps there was a predetermined fate written across the stars that may have formed such a coincidence, you’d like to think so once in awhile.

Perhaps you’ve grown too much closer with him, too fond with the entirety of him.

That's why you didn't find it peculiar when his pink hair that you adore was blotched with a much darker shade of pink one day, but it was just little too dark to your taste, you were afraid too admit.

“Huh?" You felt the tips of the tainted strands between your index finger and thumb, "What is this? Where did you got this from?”

It doesn’t feel right nor does it complement his hair. It even had that metallic scent you couldn’t put right into your mouth.

Yuma opens his eyes, pupils darting over his fringe. "Oh, that? It's just paint, you know those school projects, my cousin had an art project and wanted me to help with it. But that little brat decided to ruin my hair. I just forgot to wash it."

You let out a chuckle imagining the scene of him going all pikachu face after finding out, shortly adding a brief, "I see."

He sat up, pulling a mischievious look as he leans closer, brushing his nose against yours. "Care to help me with it then?"

"Of course."

Hovering the shower hose above his head as he does all the work in scrubbing the paint off his hair, your eyes were pulled on the washed off residues flowing down the bathtub. Paint? You are aware that paints has this particular chemical smell to them, but the way it smudged over the tips of your fingers just gives you the ick. This vile pungence smothers your sense of smell and suffocates your throat.

This can't be a paint, right?

Observing the way he dry off his hair with a towel in front of the mirror was your favourite thing to do, but there was something that bugs you more than anything else, that same dirty dark shade on his back—right above the neckline of his shirt.

"Hey, your shirt." you pointed out, brushing your finger against it. There it was again, that very same pungence that crawls down your spine. It reeks of blood. Your eyes searched for any injuries across his skin but to no avail, there was none. Was there a car accident on the way home, leading him to help the victims and he just didn't find it of great importance to tell you? Right, it could be that.

But why did he have to lie then?

Yuma's groans reaches the insides of your piled up thoughts, whining about he have to take a shower again.

"Hey, are you drifting off again?"

You stuttered, "Oh, no—its n-nothing."

"Hm, why don't you join me in the shower then?" He pulls out a toothy grin, your cheeks heated up almost immediately at his suggestions.

"Pervert! Just get on with it!" You pushed him off, I'll wait outside."

A couple of giggles escapes Yuma's lips, filling up the room as you stormed out, slamming the door close. You let out a huge exhale as you leaned against the door, slapping your cheeks lightly.

Right. Who cares if he lies? It's all for your own good anyways. It has always been for your good.

Right?

You may have been proven wrong by your initial assumption though.

Judging by how that reeking smell keeps surfacing back on his hair, his skin, and on the clothes he wore. A car accident, an art project, or could it be that he kept injuring himself for no reason? Or was he going through a rough patch, not telling you because he doesn't want to worry you?

It must be!

No. You can't let that happen.

Filled with immense concern, you somehow found yourself trailing behind him. It felt wrong —invading his privacy and all that, it was stupid even but with all this growing dread and fear, maybe you just need to take a little look. Getting all suspicious of him and probing him with all sorts of questions might hurt his feelings, so a little look won't hurt right?

It was too unrealistic to even think of that kind of scenario, so you'll just go back home after all this ends. But if you were proven right, then, it pains you to just imagine him doing all that to himself.

What was he even thinking? You are his girlfriend, so why wouldn't he just pour himself out to you and go through it together?

You often said it yourself, I only had you and you only had me! Clenching your fists as tight as you can to appease yourself down as you were getting close to the residential area, atleast---you can't let Yuma get all worked up to see you like this. If anything, you had to be strong for him.

Yet your feet was glued on the asphalt. What is this, this odd feeling washing over your soul? Fear? What are you even scared for? What are you even trembling about?

Right.

It's there again.

From the distance, right where the alley was at—carried away by the nightsky breeze; the same vile pungence that drowns your soul.

That smell you once encountered on the way to school; the victims in a hit-and-run accident, where that red fluid leaking out down their face, pooling on the asphalt. It was weird now that you think back of it again, your pulses didn't accelerate nor you were filled with panic seeing all the graphic sight, but if anything, it was definitely the smell.

The breeze on that day of autumn didn't help either, bringing the coppery smell into your nostrils which had you nauseous almost instantly, clutching your tummy as you bend down, kneeling down as you threw all up on the asphalt.

The image of a melting cotton candy under the luminous summer sun hanging above the marmalade expanses, that damned ice cream in the background—dripping down their forearms in the heated dazed state was replaced instead with the inky sky deciding to pour powders of white cottons into your line of vision, you splayed your hands to catch one.

Like a paradise of white cottons you can throw yourself on to make snow angels—was however an avalanche of red fluid.

A sight that never bothers you ever since but this—this scene now, this very image before you is truly a downright terror to your eyes.

It sums it all up, like a piece in a puzzle—fitted like an answer to the lost wonder of a child's mind.

And its so fucking stupid, really. To stand over there like an idiot, before him, before the completed puzzle of carnage that imbued every nerve inside you with aghast. You tell yourself to run, eyes frantically darting at every single object in your line of vision—screaming at yourself to lift your damn foot and the other, away from everything.

His fringe that you oh so adore to feel against the tips of your finger, deeply awe at its tender innocence was now contorted into a dripping mess of grotesque. That face and pair of eyes was no longer of a vibrant sun but one that you are no longer familiar of; a gaping void that terrifies your soul.

It was not peace that it brings you anymore, but a hysterical fight-and-flight response going rampant inside your head.

“Ah, you caught me.”

Your pulse accelerates at the way those words left his mouth in such a playful manner. It was just like him, but at the same it was not. He was not the boy that strives to play pranks you at every way possible when he's in the mood for it, this was not the version of him you've grown accustomed to.

Or did you really know him all this time?

That's when Yuma can't help the delightful grin that aches to surfaces in his feline features, observing how your expressions undergoing the stages of horror and disbelief yet he finds it all too adorable that he couldn't help but makes his way towards you, dropping the decapitated arm on the drenched asphalt with little to no care.

Everything smells utterly horrendous in this alleyway; the growing pile of garbage in the dumpster and the smell of rotting corpse beneath him. Yet the moment you appeared seems to cover or better yet in his words, washed away all the stench.

Pretty, he thought—but that would he an understatement. But he has another idea, one that would make you a hell lot more prettier.

Yuma held your face in his blood-soaked palms, cupping your cheeks with profound affection all written across his eyes, "You often told me I look pretty in pink, now I think," he caresses your cheek, tainting your skin with every bit of its shade. "You look prettier in red."

You wanted to go home and crawl to the tiles of your bathroom, aching to rub off this nauseous thing all over your skin.

“It's like you were made for me.”

The urge to pull you closer to him grew immense, the sheer contrast of your skin from the ones he hold just a min ago was incomparable, as always he thought. Going back home at dawn, after everything was finished—back to your arms was his bed of solace. "And you are."

Him cupping your cheeks affectionately was no longer a fond memory—imbuing your insides with the sheer sweetness you used to love, one you've always find the comfort of the clouds, and the sensation of heaven. Now it's only infiltrating each corner, twisting and contorting your insides in a mess.

You asked yourself; was it melting or was it simply a mould? In any case, your only mistake was leaving it a plenty time of its own enough for it to come to it's ultimate aftermath.

No.

Perhaps it was all way before back then, with that picturesque of cotton tinted image in your head—you illustrated a bed of cottons around him, with his portrait as the centre of it all. Cottons now shred apart in bizarre contorted fleshes, once a bed of tenderness and kindness now only seem to only drive sheer numbers of claws into your tummy.

Who knew cottons could hide a wolf beneath it Deranged, an image of dread and lost souls on their way to the underworld was all that was left.

Those pretty tongue of yours were unable to form coherent words, he almost finds it stupidly adorable that he instead answers it for you, confirming all the questions in your hand with one sentence.

“Hm, it is. It is me.” Yuma looks over his shoulder, his fringe felling apart from his usual neat slicked back hair—to the middle of his forehead, a look of madness. “You just have no idea how they were all yapping all senseless, so fucking dumb---I just have to shut them up for awhile. But no need to fret anymore. No one's going to separate us anymore. He's the last one anyways."

"You! You monster! How could you? They've--" You swallowed a sore lump down your throat, the imaginary clouds you've been floating on all along was a false sense of security. "They've done nothing to you! So why? Why?"

"But I was still right, wasn't I?" Yuma raises his brow in pure mockery, "Friends don't leave you, I make them. But they were just so full of themselves, so sure of themselves that they,"

His grip tightens around your wrist, prompting you to yelp in pain.

"—Could make you leave me, but guess what?" He lets out a grin, letting out a spine-chilling laughter at himself. “They're all gone, and i'll do it all over again.”

Hot tears surfaces and your lips trembles at the revelation, releasing a hysterical scream. Your cries were amplified further with cold air on your cheek was replaced with wet slimy slick down your jaw, repeating in arbitrary motions.

The sugary bed of a cotton candy, melting into your tongue now replaced with a stench; his thumb now digging deeper into the cavern of your mouth to the bed of your tongue, causing you to writh in pain, an intense scream blew out of your throat as you try to pry his hands and arms off yet he didn't budge one inch.

The all too familiar metallic taste now engulfed your mouth, sending you into a rampant state. Flesh and blood, your very own. Now how does it taste? His eyes scream those very question, not giving you a chance to escape those piercing pupils.

"Swallow it all up, I'll help you with your phobia. Don't worry, i'm here with you, through all of it."

"I-it h-hurts! Y-ma!" Shutting your eyes as tight as you can, fingers trembling at the sheer strength he displays before you. "St-stop! Pl—"

A side of him you never knew existed.

“You often say that you like cotton candy, now drink it all up. Am I not your precious cotton candy?” Yuma held you closer, his other hand curling on your back and slowly going up your scalp, twisting your hair in between his digits.

A purr that sends waves of electrifying shivers to your neck as he presses a following tender kiss, reaching a painful seconds.

"This is good, though. You finding out." Yuma says, and before you knew it, his lips captures yours—colliding and fitting perfectly like a piece of puzzles together. his eyelashes fluttering like a cat's tail, swaying in hypnotizing motion.

He nipped down your lower lip in playful motions, a series of mumbles escapes your mouth however he presses them down by deepening his lips against yours. It fits so perfectly, tastes like slight caramel and fluffy—it tastes just like when you had your first kiss together; warm and kind—but the languid pace soon picks up–sending alarms to your head that this was not it—turning into something you were unable comprehend.

He briefly pulls away, saying, "Because I'm tired—fed up of acting like a part of your sweetened perception on me."

Reality surges right back up; the heavy pungent taste of copper flooded on your tongue and his, hitting so deep in your throat—you were choking so bad.

Your eyes blew open trying to push him off but the grip in your neck strengthens, and the other tangles your hair deeper in its claws causing you to whine from the throbbing pain on your scalp, and the muscle on your nape grew numb in fatigue trying to escape. Forced to relish in such state, your eyes were forced to met with the ghastly sight from behind him once again; downright shivers washed over your soul, its too comical—it resembles your very own favourite activity.

Ripping and shredding each cottons rather than swallowing them whole, you relished in the idea of savouring each taste. However this was too much, more than you can take. He tastes like cotton candy, but its flavour dipped in a pond full of corpse and carcasses. A heaven you once assumed, now it gazes at you back—devouring every piece of you and melting you away into its den.

Now ain't you the one being savoured right now—with every last bit and drop of your sanity ceasing to exist?

His tongue infiltrated the depths of your mouth, forcing it wide open with his fingers digging your jaw. Invading each corner with an avalanche of greed, it was all unlike the tender fluffy memories you had; a sloppy mess with the stench of blood tainting your face deeper as he explores your mouth with frantic movements. Gentle love was out of the question but rather that of intense impatience, he grins into the kiss pulling away for a moment—relishing in the taste of you and the blood altogether, licking it like a maniac in its world of craze.

"You taste like cotton candy." He says before capturing your lips in his once again.

A sweet confection dipped in heavens—to him, you are of an aphrodisiac flavour.

His pink fringe obscuring his line of vision was a heck of annoying thing and he didn't even like eating sweets—downright despise was much of a better definition to describe it whenever his eyes fell on one. Being forced by his parents to look after his little cousin right after school ends was already a mood-wrecker and now he had to force himself to eat a goddamn sweet just to keep those boba eyes from pouring out an avalanche of waterfall.

Yuma lets out a long and heavy sigh, what else could go wrong today? He asked himself as he holds the cotton candy in his hands, dreading so much just by the entire look of it. He shuts his eyes tight as he tries to gobble it all up in one bite, chewing and swallowing it an immense speed—melting it all away on his tongue as fast as he could.

Yet the taste still hits right after much to his sheer displeasure.

It tasted sweet, and it was so fucking horrible that his face contorted into an immense cringe—he could spit it out at any moment if the little boy ever rips his sticky boba eyes on him, and the goddamn breeze ruining his hair only brings a newfound irritation. Yuma was about to throw the miserable fluff in the bin when the boy wasn't looking, distracted by a bunch of balloons—when he caught you gazing at him. Somehow, someway, the taste of cotton candy on the bed of his tongue doesn't seem to taste any sweeter any more, it was surprisingly bland.

He doesn't even like sweets, but now he wanted something sweeter.

And when you came around, striking a casual conversation much to his surprise—approaching him with all that stupidly funny words that he resembles a cotton candy because of his hair. Maybe it won't be too that bad to try sweets once in awhile.

Your presence itself invites him to take a look as well in what lies beyond in this delicacy called 'sweets' that people seems to relish on. What is it—the kind of ingredients blended in these sweets that pulls people deeper and closer?

Yuma always had that question for awhile now. But now he thinks he understands why, he can't seem to rip himself away from you too.

This urge to take a little more look, a little more taste; to savour every second your presence graces him with, how your words seem to glazed in sugar, inviting him to stay a bit more. He might have even grew selfish, a stark contrast of what his parents used to teach him about—share; your food, your clothes, your belongings to those in need—and he did exactly what he was told to, always had been.

Since he was a child, he never threw a tantrum when he had to give his toys away or when it was rip apart from him. Birthday cakes, sweets, gifts, pastries, every single thing his memories could reach—all he was willing to share, just because.

However, you were different.

Like a child greedy for sweets and candies, now he felt like one. So this is what it feels like—to be insatiable—to never get fed up, to savour each bite, to never let go, and hold on tight.

Yet your friends were just such a sore in the eye, sticking with you like a super glue—spewing all those words to separate you away from him. Can't they just shut the fuck up?

He needs you more than they do, and you definitely don't need them. The more Yuma gets a taste of your delicacy, the more he grew to despises the word 'share'.

So what better way than to shut them up for good?

"I know what you're thinking, but I won't let you spare such a stupid, stupid thought."

Carnal desires. Sheer obsession. Sweet tooth. You're going to be the death of him, the sole reason of his sanity and morality slipping away into nothing.

"But it's okay, you'll be good right? We'll get cotton candies later, hm? Now open your mouth wide."

Now that he have all of you to himself—he's going to make sure of it—to savour every last bit of you till you can no longer think of anything but him.

illustration created by me, yuan.

JULY 12, 2024.

#&team smut #&team imagines #&team x reader #nakakita yuma #&team yuma #&team #andteam x reader #andteam

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buddiesmutslut · 2 months

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Okay, so I want Buddie to get together before Chris comes home, right? So, they get Chris, spend a few days getting everyone settled back into the swing of things, and then either 1) they don't get a chance to tell him, or 2) they do, and it doesn't go great (which I feel like is something that's going to happen regardless, I need Christopher to be an angsty teen with abandonment issues in 4k)

BUT

Before they can sit down again and figure everything out, they get a call for another wildfire or a crossover or whatever that requires them to leave town for a little bit.

Obviously, Eddie can't go, because he just got Christopher back home and he really doesn't want to leave him again, even temporarily, but Buck has to go because people need help.

Cue Buck & Eddie spending time apart for the first time since they got together, sleeping in different beds hundreds of miles away from the other, and both spiraling a little bit. Eddie because he's worried that Buck is finally getting some time away from him and the mess that he was in Chris' absence and is worried that he doesn't want to keep wading through Eddie's problems,

And Buck because Chris is back now, and what if Eddie doesn't need him anymore? What if he was just a stand-in or a placeholder for Chris, but now his son is back and Eddie is on his own two feet again and what if he doesn't need Buck anymore, and if he doesn't need him, then why would he keep him around?

Extra points if telling Chris doesn't go well so they're trying to figure that out and cell service is spotty and they don't know what the other is thinking because they're so far away and if they were closer, they would just be together and solve the problem, but they're not so they're relying on delayed messages and downed phone lines and a game of phone tag.

And then, obviously, Buck gets home, and they realize they were spiraling over nothing because they've been building a life together for far longer than the few months they've been kissing, and Buck sits and talks with Christopher, and everything is fine.

AND THEN I NEED TIM TO LEAVE THEIR RELATIONSHIP ALONE. No breakups like in a lot of other main couples (Chenford, Booth & Brennan, I'm looking at you guys.) no! None of that! They've suffered enough, give them plot lines without breaking them up.

Give them better arcs with their parents, BRING US EDDIE'S GODDAMN SISTERS and the drama I K N O W is hiding there. Give us Buck focusing on his career (and also maybe slip in an official ADHD diagnosis, what, who said that?) Give us them talking about raising another kid, kill off an obscure family member and a stroll down memory lane (I absolutely do not mean Isabel Diaz, you keep your filthy paws OFF Eddie's abuela, bitches. I love her so so so so much lol).

Give them character arcs that have nothing to do with them possibly breaking up. They deserve storyline's that are more than just about their love interest. Literally, Buck's coming out wasn't even about him, it was all about Tommy and I'm so sick of it. Buck and Eddie are interesting characters! They are M A I N characters, give them better storylines. (Esp Eddie bc genuinely, wtf have you all done to my boy??)

#911 abc #eddie diaz #buddie #evan buckley #buck x eddie #I want all the “what if they breakup?” drama at the very beginning of the relationship and then I N E V E R want to hear a whisper of it #ever ever ever again #stop making their arcs about other people and let it be about THEM #Don't mind me just yapping #will i ever be normal about two fictional characters? Probably not #I've been thinking about this all morning

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alsofortheb0ys · 1 year

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DEPOWERED HOMELANDER × MALE READER

I LOVE DEPOWERED HOMIE! I WANNA SQUISH HIM 🤏🧍‍♂️Sorry, if the ending feels rushed cause it was lol. And I didn't proofread too also👍

John sat quietly on the floor maybe a little too close to the television for the good of his now human eyes. He wasn't really paying attention to the random Chopped episode, just giving his harsh feedback at the chef's mistake.

He had no right to given the fact that he has no knowledge of cooking. The box mac and cheese with undercooked noodles and chucky sauce that was still in the pot that sat in his lap that he was eating with an Ikea kids spoon.

Ever since losing his powers nearly a year ago, this was the daily occurrence for John. A constant cycle of depression that never went away.

His whole purpose, the reason of existence was stripped away from him. Vought quickly got rid of him without thought.

They took nearly everything. His apartment and other properties he had. Most of his money. Gave himthe excuse that the bank was a Vought account since he had no form of identification to open one.

Sure, they gave him enough to live out the rest of his life but it was pay for his silence that came with a NDA but they offered no mental treatment for all those years of manipulation and abuse they put him through.

Now he just sits at his and Y/N shared apartment waiting for his return. Y/N was his sole reason to keep going. His light that never stopped shining.

Y/N still worked for Vought, sometimes being gone for days or weeks. There wasn't much of an option to leave. They had trapped him just like John.

Even using John as bait for him to stay. He gets John, Vought gets Y/N.

John wasn't stupid, he knew Y/N wasn't staying by choice but still he felt betrayed.

Y/N always greeted John with the biggest smile and shower him with kisses and praise. John couldn't get his head around how he still loved him. Most of the time John didn't shower of days, still in clothes cover with sweet Thai chili sauce and sweat from his nightmares.

Powerless and useless.

Today would be no different. After getting to the last bit of his food, John hears Y/N's key jiggling as the lock turns.

"Johnny, I'm home!" Y/N says kicking off his snickers as he never comes home without changing out if his costume. Not wanting to risk their privacy and identities.

"You cooked something? It smells good!" Y/N said with enthusiasm.

"Yeah, I did that pasta and cheese thing in a box." John answered with a smile, slightly pride of himself for cooking and because he was happy to see his boyfriend.

"Give me a bite. I'm hungry." Y/N flopped down on the couch, placing his legs on either side of John.

"Is this a new episode?" Y/N says with a mouthful of noodles.

"Yeah, sorry I didn't wait to watch it with you. I wasn't sure when you'd be back."

Usually the two of you watched it together. It was silly but the show was a comfort, reminding him of you and it always eased his mind.

"It's okay. Just watch it with me again."

Y/N began kissing the back of John's short hair that was now brown as the dye wore off and John didn't bother to dye agian. John decided to shave his hair due to the fact it got matted and tangled due to him not bathing.

Well, he did it with your help. John cried while you did it. It felt like he was saying goodbye to who he was. He was no longer The Homelander. A god among men. But John. A weak mud person.

"Stop, Y/N. I'm dirty." John tried slipping away but Y/N's arms were quick to wrap around him, locking him in place. He felt shameful he didn't shower. If he had enough self well, he'd usually shower if he knew you were coming home even though it felt like a huge task.

"It's fine. Don't care. I just want to kiss you."

John gave in and signed. Truthfully, he didn't want him to stop. He loved it. Loved any ounce of affection Y/N gave him, even though he knew he didn't deserve it.

They sat in silence while finishing the episode. Y/N never stopped giving John kisses, just slowed down, giving them ever so often.

"Want to take a bath with me?" Y/N asked as the credits rolled.

"Yeah, that'd be nice. Let me just wash the dishes."

John went to get up but Y/N sat him down.

"Let me soak it and l'lI I deal with it tomorrow." Y/N grabbed the pot and ran to the sink before John could argue.

Even though the act was sweet, it upset John.

Validated he feelings of being useless. John felt tears prick his eyes but quickly blinked them away.

"Alrighty! Ready to go, baby?" Y/N bounced back into the living room, outreaching his hand for John to take.

John nods and stands to his feet, taking Y/N's hand into his. Without any warning, Y/N scoops John into his arms. His arms tuck under John's legs, their chests touching.

Instead of giving protest, John begins to cry uncontrollably. Y/N begins to panic while in his stops right in his tracks.

"Baby? John, you alright? Did I hurt you?"

Y/N tries to turn John's face to look at him, his right hand gently resting on his cheek but John doesn't move.

"No...no..no. P-please...I'm sorry." John wails, his tears soaking Y/N's shirt.

John felt so stupid in the moment. He was crying like a baby while being held like one.

What sets him off is when he remembers when he'd carry Y/N. To the bedroom. The bathroom. After a long day.

John loved being taken care of but he loved giving care. For most of his life, he made decisions based on his satisfaction but when he found Y/N, he felt selflessness. He gave love as pure as Y/N's.

But he can't do it anymore. He takes more than he gives. Y/N gives his all while John wastes away, taking and taking.

He's powerless. Just another thing added to the growing list of things he can never do again.

"No, baby. Don't be sorry. What's got you upset, puppy?" Y/N rubs small circles along John's back as he calms down.

John feels like he's cried all the tears he had. He just whimpers while chewing on the collar of the dirty shirt he was wearing.

It was a coping method Y/N taught him. For the longest time, when John had a panic attack or was overwhelmed, he would hit his fists against his head or bite his lip.

When he was a supe he ran no risks of hurting himself, but he wasn't any more.

He'd bite his lip bloody and bruises covered his cheeks for the first few months. Y/N was there every step of the way, whispering praise and sweet words as he cried himself tired.

Today was no different.

John sniffed, still chewing on his shirt.

"Puppy, you want to talk about it or we can later? But we're going to have too. It's important I understand what's going on with you. I need to know what's the matter."

Another thing that made John hate himself. To Y/N it was important he knew John's emotional well-being but John never paid attention to his.

He couldn't count how much times Y/N would come home stressed from Vought breathing down his neck or how times Ashley called during one of his very few off days.

It was because John didn't understand his own emotions let alone someone else's. He was never taught how to properly deal with them. Just left alone to bottle them up till he exploded.

But Y/N helped him even though John felt like he was going nowhere. Y/N was so patience and caring it almost makes him sick.

"Y/N...I'm useless. W-why don't you hate me?" John finally whispers out, slightly muffled by the t-shirt in his mouth.

"Oh Johnny, you're not." You gave a kiss to his temple. "I love you. Love you so much."

"N-no, y-you're lying. No one can love me." John could feel himself being to tear up again.

"No, baby. Look at me." Y/N gently takes John's face in yhis left hand, making him look at him this time. "I love you with powers and without."

"You sure?" John bearly whispers.

"Yes, baby. More than anything." You promise. "Now do you want to tell me what's up?"

John signs and snuggles his face against Y/N's neck.

He follows Y/N steady breath and feels their heartbeats almost in sync. The warmth of his skin against his.

"I just want to be able to care for you. To be strong for you." John sniffles, he wants to cry again. "But I can't. Feel so useless and weak.

"Aw, my baby. You're not. You're so so strong and I'm so proud of you. I know it's hard for you and can't even imagine how hard you've had it but I'm here for you no matter what."

"You promise?" John's voice was bearly auditable. He sounded like a child making his parent promise that there was no monster under the bed.

"Yes, puppy. I promise." Y/N seals the promise in with a kiss on John's forehead. "How about that bath? You have some cheese on your hair."

"Yeah. I'd still like that."

"Alrighty, baby. You wanna walk or you wanna be carried the rest of the way?"

"Carry. Please." John's words slurred slightly. It seemed that all the crying had suddenly taken all his energy.

"Ok, Princey. All that crying must have gotten you tired huh?"

John doesn't verbally answer but just nods againstY/N's neck. They make their way to the bathroom, Y/N humming a little tune; John closes his eyes and listens.

Y/N sets John on the side of the tub and fills the water, checking once in a while to see it the water's too hot or too cold. He added a bath bomb, a gentle scent of lilies.

Oncethe tub is filled, Y/N begins to take off John's clothes. He never really wore much. Usually one of Y/N's shirt and a pair of boxers.

John closed his eyes tightly. Lately he had a hard time looking at his own body. He was never as muscler as his suit used to show but he didn't need them with super strength. He was much more scrawny now and it made him once again feel weak.

Y/N's warm hands grounded John before he strayed more into his self consciousness. He had picked him up and put him into the warm water. John had opened his eyes to Y/N's removing his clothes.

John smiled. His boyfriend was gorgeous. He felt like he could stare at him for days just admiring his beautiful figure.

"Did I ever tell you you're handsome?" John said as he closed his eyes again. This time not to advoid seeing himself but relaxing into the bath.

"Lots, yes." You chuckle as you gently move John forward so you can sit behind him.

"Well, you are."

Both fell silent as they enjoyed their bath together. Y/N's wandered, lathering soap on John's body. His hair, his back, his shoulders, his chest, every part of him treated gently.

"Y/N?" John breaks the silence.

"Yes, puppy?"

"Thank you. For everything. I know I'm hard to deal with. I'm trying to get better. I promise. You stayed though you didn't have to. But you did. I want you to know I'm grateful." John teared up again, not out of sadness this time.

"It's okay, Johnny. I stay cause I love you. I know you're trying and you have been better. Just baby steps."

John did feel better. He had a ways to go but Y/N was with him and that was all that mattered.

#homelander #the boys series #homelander x male reader #homelander x reader #depowered homelander #homelander fanfiction

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bunni-v1 · 1 year

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Hello! Can I request malleus x reader angst?

Malleus breaks up with reader because he is afraid he will hurt her after putting her under a sleeping curse during his over blot

<33

Malleus Afraid to Hurt Reader Again After Blot

TW: Poor Attempt at Angst, No real resolution either, Mild swearing, Bunni hasn't actually written something in a while give them a break, please

Info: Short fic; Angst; Malleus x Reader

🍓I... didn't have much thought process when going into this. I just kinda wrote, and I think I did what I wanted to do? I'm not sure, but I did have fun writing it! This is less focused on Malleus and more focused on the readers internal thoughts and how they dealt with it. Idk I don't like Malleus, so I'm not gonna pity the guy lol. Anyway, enjoy lovelies!

Summary: In the title

Malleus had become… distant since his blot. Despite everything having been solved, you ultimately deciding to stay in Twisted Wonderland, and Malleus generally being forgiven for his transgressions he had only seemed to close off more than before. Of course, that made sense. Overblotting was traumatizing, and he had so much weight on his shoulders before and after it happened. The distance was natural. But it had been a month, and he had been avoiding you like the plague.

You tried to be patient, tried to be understanding. With reassurance from Lilia and Silver and even Sebek that he was fine, you were making it through, but… you missed your boyfriend. You were also experiencing pain from the overblot, from multiple overblotts. All you wanted was to heal with your boyfriend, but he was shutting you out. It wasn’t fair.

Ace, Deuce, and Grim agreed — in fact, they seemed more passionate about it than you were, adding fuel to your slowly growing angry fire. Every time you came crying to one of them with your woes, they only seemed to get more and more exhausted and livid. Deuce always tried to comfort you (pathetically), while Ace and Grim ranted on about how you should ‘just break up with him,’ and ‘he doesn’t deserve you if he’s gonna treat you like this.’

You were beginning to agree with them. Weeks of this was weighing on your poor heart and mind, getting in the way of your studies and day-to-day life. The only reason you were social was because Ace wouldn’t let you hole yourself up. ‘Hiding yourself away just means you’re letting him win, you don’t want him to win this one.’

So, with your head held high, you did your best to pretend everything was fine. You went to classes, spent time with your friends, worked at the Monstro Lounge, and continued your regular schedule. Except now, instead of running to Malleus when you were done with your long day, you met up with Ace and spent your time decompressing with him.

Occasionally, you would feel Malleus’ eyes on you. You would turn to give him a smile and a wave, but he would always turn away before you could lift your arm. So, you just stopped. You stopped trying. Your chest still ached, but you couldn’t allow this to be the end of your life anymore. You deserved to be able to function, and Malleus would come to you and talk to you when he decided to grow up.

In Malleus’ eyes, however, this was the final nail in the coffin.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

That morning you received a knock on your door. Grim, Ace, and Deuce were out cold on the floor after one of your bi-weekly, ‘hangouts,’ (which were just sleepovers), so you were expecting Trey or Cater to come to fetch them. When you opened the door, however, you were greeted by Lilia’s little grin. He seemed a bit… off, upset, though you couldn’t place why.

“Lilia…?”

“Good morning little one, I’ve got a letter for you.”

“An invitation... from Malleus…?” you wondered allowed.

“You’ll have to read it and see,” he paused, “please remember you are always welcome to come and speak with me. You are like family, and I am here for you always.”

You said nothing, simply giving him a confused smile and nodding as he walked off. With a sigh, you shut the door and flipped the letter in your hands. Rich black paper with a red wax stamp and your name in pretty gold letters — most definitely from Malleus. You couldn’t stop your heart from leaping in your chest at the revelation. Maybe he would apologize, and things could go back to normal?

You took a few deep breaths to calm your excitement. Be realistic, you reminded yourself. You quietly crept to the kitchen, carefully opening the envelope and unfolding the letter. It was short, less than half the page of Malleus’ gorgeous cursive.

“My Dearest,

Firstly, I must apologize for my absence from your life. I’ve had much to think about after my blot, and I could not think clearly around you. I realized quite a few differences between the two of us. Firstly, you are human, and I am fae. I have a much longer lifespan than you, and am far more powerful than you could imagine. You have a small lifespan and are magic-less. You are easily affected by even weak magical spells, and the toll that my magic has on you is immense. As I saw with my blot, you are fragile and easily harmed. Therefore, I came to the conclusion that you would be safer and happier if we put an end to our relations with each other. You will be well, as I have seen your friends care for you deeply. Please find it in yourself to forgive me for what I have done."

You stared at the letter blankly, your mind struggling to comprehend what you were reading. Malleus had… broken up with you? Via a letter, of all things? Perhaps it could be worse, but a letter was Malleus’ equivalent of magicam… so could it really be? You hadn’t realized you were crying until you saw your tears blurring the ink on the paper.

You didn’t want to cry. You were more angry than sad, but the hurt stung worse in your heart, so you stood at the kitchen counter and sobbed. And you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed over a man who did not have the decency to face you in person. You cried so loud that it woke one of your friends, and you could hear the creaking of the floorboards as they grew closer until you saw the red hair in your blurred vision.

“Yo,” he said awkwardly, “watcha cryin’ about now…?”

You let out a half-hearted ‘nothing,’ but Ace wasn’t having it. He rounded the counter, settling awkwardly at your side. Somehow, Ace was worse than Deuce when it came to comforting you. He noticed the letter on the table and -- with a defeated shrug of your shoulders -- picked it up. You could see him grow angrier and angrier as he read it.

“Who does he think he is, huh,” slamming the letter down onto the counter, “couldn’t even do it in person. What a coward!”

You sniffled, wiping at your face. It was hard to disagree, especially considering the circumstances.

“He isn’t even worth cryin’ over, so wipe those tears,” he grumbled, “you, me, and the other losers in there are going out and getting your mind off of that dumbass. Go get dressed, and I’ll get them up.”

You nodded, wiping up the rest of your tears and stumbling up to your room to do as you were told. The first thing you did when you arrived was look in the mirror. Your puffy eyes, ruffled hair, and tear streaks down your cheeks, and for what? A guy who ghosted you for weeks on end, who couldn’t even break up with you in person. What a joke.

Ace was right. He isn’t worth crying over. He isn’t worth worrying about anymore. So, why did your heart still ache? It wasn’t fair. Still, you cleaned yourself up, got dressed, and resigned yourself to a life without Malleus. If you could do it before, you could do it for the rest of your life. He would be graduating soon anyway, and you wouldn’t have to see him again after that.

Who needs him anyway? You’ve got your friends to take care of you.

#malleus twst #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #malleus twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #angst #bunni's treats 🧁

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ashwhowrites · 2 years

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Ask her part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Buckle up, we've got a hell of a ride

18+ no real smut but suggestive language, and a girl fight

This is barely proofread so we can ignore grammar errors lol. I hope you guys love it!! Thanks again for all the support and notes. I am also doing requests so feel free to send some in and check out my master list :)

The weekend was over and everyone was back to being pissed off on a Monday morning, especially Y/N. She was exhausted and drained. She didn't want to admit it to herself or Robin, but she missed Eddie so badly. She hates that she's not in charge of how she feels. She hates that she keeps wishing he would suddenly pull his head out of Chrissy's small skirt and see she was here all along. After all, they are best friends. Couldn't he see how good they could be? "Alright, You moped all weekend, last week, and the week before that. You are done starting today. " Robin said, pressing herself against the locker near Y/N. "Robin, we have been over this. I am fine. " Y/N sighed but shut her locker with a smile on her face, trying to fool Robin. "It really harms me that you think I can't see how fake that smile is, and I don't appreciate liars." Robin replied with a smile of her own, one that's cocky and teasing. Before Y/N could respond, a voice called from down the hall. Chrissy's voice.

"Y/N!" was yelled, more like screeching from the end of the hallway. Y/N's head quickly whipped to see a Chrissy marching her way to Y/N's locker. "This should be good." When Y/N glared over, Robin quickly dropped her smile. "What do you want, Chrissy?" Y/N just wanted to get to the point so she could get on with her day and ignore all of this teenage drama. She truly believed she would be better than the typical girl who fell in love with her best friend and became entangled in a love triangle. "I just thought you would like to know that Eddie dumped me last night." Y/N felt a smile slowly appear on her face. She tried to not let it show. “I am so sorry to hear that. "Goodbye." Y/N replied as she began to walk down the hallway, but came to a stop when Chrissy yanked her arm. "I am talking to you." She sneered. "Get your hands off of me or I will shove your pom-poms-" She was cut off by Robin yanking Chrissy's arm off of Y/N, "I wouldn't do that again." Chrissy dropped her hands in an innocent gesture. "Why is it my fault, Chrissy? Because everything else is, right? I mean, it's my fault you two even met and became friends. I basically handed you him on a platter, and like an animal, you snatched him up the first second you got. " Y/N and Chrissy were head to head now. Both gazes are filled with similar emotions: anger, betrayal, and a tint of hurt. Neither noticed the huge crowd starting to form.

"Let me ask you this, Chrissy, when the HELL did you even begin to like Eddie? When your ex-boyfriend made his life a living hell for him, when your friends giggle behind his back? Don't you remember all the things you would say about him? You couldn't believe that I would like someone like him. You said him, as if he was worth less than a human being. Chrissy, that boy is it for me. He was it for me. And you just took him. " Y/N's voice was going in and out; some parts were strong and some were weak. Her eyes were clouded with wet tears, but she would not cry in front of her. She does not deserve that satisfaction. "Look, you can't blame me for taking my shot at a single boy. He isn't yours to claim. " Chrissy's words just angered Y/N more. "To claim? He is not a pawn for you to own! He is beautiful, so creative, smart, funny, and loving. He's more than what you see in him, more than you would ever see in him. He isn't meant to be with you. You don't even know his favorite song, or Wayne's favorite mug. You don't know the names of his Hellfire characters Have you ever heard him sing? Do you know anything about it other than what his mouth tastes like? " Robin let out a small deep breath "Babes, let's bring it down." But Y/N did not care one bit. If Chrissy wanted a fight, she was going to get a fight. "You do not get to have everything. You don't get to be head cheerleader, prom queen, straight A student, loved by everyone, the queen, and able to be with Eddie. You have it all, Chrissy. Why couldn't you just let me have this one thing? " By now, the tears were falling. She hates that she doesn't even know when they started. But seeing Chrissy's bitchy exterior begin to crack made it worth it. Chrissy was finally beginning to feel guilty. Maybe because she knew she ruined her chance to truly get to know Eddie, maybe because she kept two people away that were made for each other, or maybe because she was breaking multiple hearts at once. The halls were silent. Everyone was staring at the girls, waiting to hear the last word.

Then Y/N felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked at Robin, but Robin looked behind her. She realized the hand was firm, large, and cold pieces of metal stung her skin through her shirt. "Baby," he whispered so quietly, she couldn't even tell if he was truly there. But the sensation of his breath passing through her skin and ears told her otherwise. "Please, Eddie, not now." And before she knew it, she ran.

Eddie looked at Robin with a silent nod and said, "I'll be there in one second." Then he set his brown eyes on Chrissy. "Eddie I..I." "What the fuck did I tell you? I told you to stay the hell away from her. " That same cold tone was back. Chrissy almost wished he would just yell; it might've been less scary. "You used to think of me the same way everyone else did, huh?" "Eddie, it wasn't like that." Chrissy tried to explain, but Eddie did not have the energy for more of her lies. "Stop fucking lying through your teeth. I can't believe you knew she would be the girl for me, and you didn't even give her the chance to tell me. She deserved that chance, Chrissy, and she sure as hell deserved it more than you. " "Stay away from both of us." He added as he followed the direction of Y/N.

It turned out to be a lot easier to find Y/N than he thought. She was leaning against his van, hands covering her face and shoulders shaking. "Baby, come on." He opened his passenger door and led her in. He ran to the other side and slid into the driver's seat. No words were said as he pulled out of the parking lot. Soft music, on low, plays through his banged-up speakers. He kept his eyes on the road, but he felt her gaze on him.

She knew she shouldn't be in his van staring at him. All her hurt and tears were caused because of him, and yet, here she is running back into his arms. She was weak, but he made everything feel better when she was like this. She had no one else to run to. No one got her like he did, and vice versa. She knew he felt guilty, but he deserved to. Selfishly, she wanted him to feel even worse than he did—heartbroken even. But how can you ignore someone as gorgeous as he was? His eyes were child-like, always full of life and excitement. His hair was crazy and curly; she dreamt of running her hands through it as they lay under the stars. His hands, oh his hands, were so big, veiny, and firm. His hand always swallowed hers when she dragged him to every store at the mall. His arms always held comfort. All the problems in the world didn't exist when she was wrapped up in him. His fingers were always accessorized in metal jewelry. Half the rings came from her. She smiled at the fact that he never takes them off. She used to have to take them off each finger before they went to bed. She wonders if he has been remembering to take them off the past few weeks, as she hasn't been around. Even his smell, which lingered on her clothes, filled her with warmth. She never knew she could love the smell of weed, cigarettes, and cologne enough to cover it all. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice when they pulled up to his trailer. Her door opened and a smiling Eddie stood on the other side. "Follow me, m'lady." He followed with a bow.

He led her to his bed, freshly cleaned to get rid of any trace of Chrissy. She silently sat next to him, hands in her lap, eyes trained on the floor. "Let's talk this out. I miss you." He said as he reached his hand over to hers. And just like that, his hand swallowed hers, and the tears fell. "Oh baby, no don't cry." He leaned on the floor in front of her. His hands held her cheeks. She sniffled.

"Why Eddie? What makes her so special?" Hearing how hurt, broken, and insecure she sounded broke his heart. "I didn't know she knew how you felt, baby. I would never have gotten with her if I knew how you felt. " "I know, but it still feels like you picked her. I mean, fuck, she's Chrissy and I'm just me. " He shook his head. "No, she's just Chrissy, you are you! I am in love with you because you are my best friend. You helped me with Hellfire. You co-wrote most of the band's songs. You knew everything about me and still chose to pick me. This is the time I get it right. This is the time I pick you. " Her heart fluttered at his words. "Eddie, I need more than words from you. I'm still hurt. And once you knew about my feelings, you just made fun of them.” His fingers were delicately swiping the wetness from under her eyes. He nodded along, listening closely. "And I am deeply sorry for all of that, but I promise I will make this up to you." He kissed her cheek "Enough for today; how about we get some sleep? Nothing beats the day like a good ditching school nap." He smiled cheekily as she laughed. She quickly changed into one of his old shirts, back towards him, but the sight still made him blush. He removed his own shirt and pants, sliding under the covers. She joined, and he blushed deeper, knowing she only didn't have pants on when her legs entangled with his. They've done this before, but knowing how they each feel for one another, it felt different, it felt closer.

The next morning, some things were back to being the same. Y/N didn't ignore Eddie, but she still hadn't been around him as much as he hoped. But he knows he has to give her space, which allows him to think of his plan to fix everything.

Step 1: Pick up the pieces of her broken heart.

Eddie found Y/N and Robin talking at her locker, deeply in thought. "Excuse me, ladies." Eddie said as he sprinkled pieces of red and pink construction paper all over the floor at Y/N feet. "Um, Eddie, what are you doing?" She asked, confused as she peered down at him. "Well my love, these pieces of paper here are to represent your heart. And a good old friend of yours once told me I needed to pick them up with my own hands, so," he continued as he picked every single piece up off of the floor. I pocket the scraps with a proud smile. Robin gave him an approved nod and a smile. "That's so cheesy." Y/N, but he could hear the tease in her words. A smile and blush appeared on her face. "And the pieces will be safe and sound in this pocket as I work to put it together." He pecked her cheek and raced down the hall to catch one of the hellfire boys.

"What the hell was that?" She turned to Robin, still surprised by the sweet action. "It looks like he's getting his head back in the correct place. And might I say, I give the best advice. " Robin added with a proud smile. She hooked her arms around Robins and laughed as they went down the hallway to class.

Step 2:Take her by surprise.

"Let's go on a date. Just you and me. " Eddie blurted out of nowhere. Y/N almost choked on the blunt she was smoking. "Are you high?" She laughed. "Technically yes, but I know I want to go on a date with you. I'm making this up for you, remember? So, a date that I'll plan to make you feel special. Like you deserve." She doesn't know if it was the weed, the heat of his room, or him, but she felt like she was on fire. Eddie is always unpredictable, never knowing what he has planned or what he's going to say. But this is what she wanted, right? So she wasn't going to question it and think it over. She was going with her heart. "Yes."

A few hours later, she wished she had asked more questions. She has no idea what to wear, how to do her hair, how much makeup is acceptable, or what shoes to wear. "You are stressed out. Let's just breathe. " Robin encouraged him from the bed. "Robin, I cannot just breathe. This is a date with Eddie!" she exclaimed and threw herself on her bed. Robin laughed and added, "Exactly, it's Eddie. He isn't going to care how you look." Y/N knew Robin was right, but she was still filled with nerves. "I should have asked for details. I need to know what we are doing to plan ahead. " She huffed out, "Either way, he's going to tear off whatever you wear and make up smeared, so don't try so hard." Robin was met with a punch in the shoulder. "I am not fucking him on the first date!" She laughed, a blush growing across her cheeks. Robin just gave her a look and wiggled her eyebrows. Well, now Y/N was even more nervous.

Step 3: Demonstrate your desire for her

Y/N finally decided on a simple outfit. Knowing Eddie, it would be a casual date, quiet and alone. She wore her favorite pair of jeans and a sweater that Eddie bought her for Christmas one year. She left her hair natural and did very simple makeup. She decided to dress as she would for school. Not over the top, but enough to show she did put in an effort. Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her front door. Confused as to who would be knocking at her door, she raced down. When she opened the door, she was face-to-face with Eddie. Not just any Eddie, but an Eddie with his hair tied back in a low bun. He had lost the curls covering his forehead and framing his face. A bright smile on his face, pink cheeks, and teeth gleaming. He was in a band tee, with his usual leather jacket placed on his arms and ripped jeans that hugged his small waist. She felt the drool going down her chin at this point. "Well baby, it's not polite to stare or leave a gentleman on your front step." "He said with a cheeky smile. He feels confident in how he looks to get her speechless. She huffed, "Yeah right." "Come on in." She was embarrassed to have been caught, but he wasn't wrong. Then she noticed a bouquet of roses. "And these are for you." Now his cheeky smile was gone, replaced with a shy smirk. hands gripping the flowers tightly. She smiled and took them from his hands. "Thank you, Eds. They are beautiful. She ran to the kitchen to put them in a vase right away. The red was beautiful, but one caught her eye-"the white one?" She questioned Eddie silently kicked his foot forward with a small shrug, "I wanted one to stand out. kinda like how you do to me. " She giggled at his cheesiness. "Aw, Ed's so romantic," she said as she pinched his cheeks. "Okay, okay, enough." He laughed as he grabbed her hands off of his face and laced his hand with hers.

Step 4: Kiss the girl

Feeling more excited than ever, Eddie was pacing backstage. He kept peaking his head out of the curtain to make sure she was still there. Every time he caught her eye, she'd smile and send a wave. He knew she wouldn't just get up and leave, but he was still terrified at the possibility.

As the lights went down and the crowd cheered, Eddie and the band made their way out. He winked at his girl sitting on her bar stool and took her place in the center. " Tonight we are playing a new song, an original, and it's dedicated to my beautiful girl." His eyes locked on hers, and she gasped. She did not think the new song was written by him or for her. She sat up straighter and listened throughout the whole song.

As the show ended, she couldn't sit still in her seat. She wanted to wrap her arms around Eddie and kiss him until they couldn't breathe. She felt her body heat up. The sight of him sweating and playing the guitar was always a sight to see. But she used to have to hide this attraction, but now she could act on it, and she definitely planned to. The second she felt his breath hit her ear, she turned around and threw her arms over his neck. He was caught off guard by the sudden action but smiled. "Did you like it?" She could hear the insecurity in his voice. He was nervous that his sudden vulnerability might backfire on him. She couldn't put it into words, so she went with action instead. She slowly leaned in, her eyes boring into his. letting him know what she was influencing. His eyes went huge when their noses touched. They both thought this was it. I am not sure who leaned in the furthest, but before they knew it, their lips touched. They smashed their bodies as close to one another as they could. She felt his chains on his pants dig into her bare thighs, but she didn't care. She could feel the rumble of his moan against her chest, causing her to gasp. Eddie took advantage of her surprise and slipped his warm tongue into her mouth. He hummed at the taste of her cherry gloss, beer, and mint gum. She felt her insides burn as she tasted his tongue. It was soft but firm. He took control of the kiss. Putting his hands on her waist, he tugged her even closer. Losing air, he began to pull away. But she chased his lips and pecked as he pulled away. "That was." But he had no words. Neither did she. A kiss that was long in the making. She smiled and yanked his hair closer to her. A groan ripped from his throat and lust filled his eyes. "Kiss me again, pretty boy." He felt his jeans get tight at the name. She was going to be the death of him.

Step 5: Pick the right girl

Ever since that Tuesday night at the hideout, they have been all over each other. The Hellfire boys gag as they kiss at lunch. Robin teases Eddie about how he basically devours Y/N's mouth every morning at their locker. And well, Chrissy felt a pain in her chest every time Y/N made Eddie blush and smile.

She knew they were going to get together. The whole reason Eddie broke up with her was so he could be with Y/N, but that doesn't stop the bitterness and pain seeing him move on causes. She needed to know if there was any room left in his heart to forgive her. She understood what she did was wrong, but she didn't want him to hate her. She finally found Eddie alone, waiting outside of the hellfire room. She guessed it had just ended as she was leaving practice at the same time. She silently walked up to him with a nervous smile. "Hey Eddie, can we talk?" The look she received was not friendly nor inviting. She felt herself shrink under it. "Nothing to talk about." He huffed out as he straightened his back, making him even taller than her. "I just want to say I'm really sorry. You guys look so happy and I'm sorry I tried to ruin that." She sounded so genuine that Eddie started to soften. "I mean, it's not okay and what you did was wrong, but I'll make amends." A smile lit up her face, and she hugged him. He got stiff and patted her back. Chrissy knew it was so wrong to do it, but being this close to him again caused her to remember how close they used to be. She couldn't stop herself in time when she leaned on her tiptoes and kissed his lips.

Eddie went frozen in shock. His brain wasn't understanding what the hell was going on. Before his brain could catch up with his actions, he heard a small voice. "Eddie?" It squeaked out. It was almost like it was hard to say. He knew that voice; it was Y/N. He yanked his hand away from Chrissy. Panic set in as he made eye contact with her. She was already crying, pain and betrayal laced in her eyes. "Baby, it's not what you think." He stated as he grabbed her hands. He felt relieved when she didn't pull away. She looked up at him closely. "She kissed me. You have to believe me. " He pleaded.

She could hear the genuineness in his voice. She knew Eddie better than anyone, and she knew he was not a cheater. Seeing him terrified and nervous raised anger in her. But not at him, at Chrissy. Once again, she was trying to rip them apart, and this time, she wasn't going to let her win. She yanked her hands out of Eddie's, ignoring his whimper at her actions. She marched up to Chrissy and smacked her clear across the face. Chrissy and Eddie gasped. The silent hallways echoed with the sound of Y/N's right hand connecting to Chrissy's cheek. "I mean it, you stay the fuck away from my boyfriend." Chrissy quickly ran away, crying and holding her cheek. Eddie whistled as Y/N turned back to him. "Boyfriend, huh?" He teased. But the smile quickly fell when he saw the dark look in Y/N's eyes. "I think I need to remind everyone of who you belong to, pretty boy." She grabbed his hand and yanked him into the nearest bathroom. Once again, his cock twitched in his jeans, hearing the name. By God, he hopes she'll forever call him pretty boy.

Tags!

@toobsessedsstuff @lail1010 @tiannamortis

@ladysteddie @eris-rose-86 @herroyalhighnessqueenmomo @sage-the-z0mbie @maystecc @sushihousebread @my-tearsricochet @spaceconveyor

#eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fanfic

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your-name-is-jim · 1 year

Text

What a Kirk/Spock shipper sees in a Kirk/Female-Love-Interest story [PART 2/2]

Part 1 <- Please read Part 1 first. Part 2 won't make sense otherwise!

This panel is absolutely AMAZING and you all deserved to see it :D

So, what were we talking about? Oh, yeah, Laura just proposed.

As you can see, Jim is panicking not sure what to answer, so the first thing he does is calling his two best friends. There are so many things going on here; I'll try to mention everything I care about!

"Starfleet is getting a lot better at partners of equal rank working together."

This is an important part of this comic: apparently, in this story Starfleet isn't encouraging relationships between officers with a different rank. I know it's sort of implied in canon too, but it's not always clear if it's actually against regulations or if it's fine when the ranks are close.

As a K/S shipper, this detail just gives me an in-universe reason why Jim and Spock aren't considering dating each other in this story: a commander can't probably have a relationship with a captain. I mean, we already know from canon TOS that Jim avoids relationships with the members of his crew, so this just adds a layer to a potential forbidden love story between them. Yeah, I know this isn't what this comic is trying to do, but what can I say? Fans don't stop shipping something just because they learn it's not allowed in-universe… if anything, they can find it more exciting! :D

"We could teach at the Academy. Mind you, she laughed at that idea."

Oh, wait. Jim actually talked to Laura about their possible future together! It looks like he's thinking about them as teachers at Starfleet Academy. Hmm… this sounds familiar:

2277 — Accepts appointment to Academy faculty, moves into San Francisco apartment

This is from Kirk's biography in Star Trek official website. Between The Motion Picture and The Wrath of Khan, Jim accepts a job at the Academy. We see it at the start of the second movie, after Saavik takes the Kobayashi Maru test.

Wait, who's the other teacher here? :D

Okay, okay, in that era Jim is an admiral and Spock is a captain, so their ranks are still different, but except for that… They both teach at the Academy. And it's literally what Jim proposed to his love interest Laura in the comic! With my Kirk/Spock goggles on, what I read in that panel is "If Laura and I got married, we could both do this thing that I'm totally going to do with Spock in the future." LOL

Did the comic creators notice the parallel? Probably not. However, we K/S shippers have special skills for finding accidental implications about our ship everywhere, so here it is :)

"Your thoughts, please, Mr. Spock."

I said I had a lot to say about that single panel, so of course I can't skip the last line! A human woman has just proposed to Jim, and what does Jim do? He asks for Spock's opinion. This says a lot about Jim and Spock's friendship, and it's very sweet on Jim's part, but it also makes me think about Jim's love life. What about Jim and Laura's romantic feelings for each other? Does Jim want to spend the rest of his life with her? Perhaps the reason they don't talk about it (not even with Bones!) is that it's implied that Jim loves her and she loves him, even if they never say it. However, I still think it's interesting that Jim's discussion on the matter is mostly "logical".

Anyway, I swear I won't post every single panel of this comic, but Spock's reply is an absolute gem you all must see:

"I AM SOMETHING OF AN EXPERT ON THE SUBJECT OF JAMES T. KIRK."

(dkjflsdjlkdjglk brb losing my mind again)

Ahem. Okay, Spock. Noted. Also, wow, nice make up. Did I say that the art in this comic is great? Good.

"I believe someone of equal status would offer you the best possible chance of happiness."

Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but I find interesting his use of "equal status" instead of the more specific "equal rank". Status makes me think less of their official position in Starfleet, and more of how two people actually see each other. It's not just about Laura and Jim being both captains; it's about them seeing each other as equals.

Anyway, Jim jokes about Bones and Spock finally agreeing about something, and the conversation continues.

Jim's best friends are both encouraging him to marry Laura. In this panel, I zoomed in on Bones because his words are especially interesting. Based on everything we've seen so far, it looks like having a romantic partner when you're in Starfleet is a pain in the ass in general in this comic; however, Bones is pointing out that for the first time, Jim has someone who really understands. Of course, that's because she's a Starfleet captain too.

About Spock, I won't share the entire conversation, but I just want to say that as a K/S shipper who likes to think Spock is secretly in love with Jim in this era, I find his dialogue where he's supporting Jim's relationship with Laura totally reasonable. It's important to remember that this comic takes place close to the end of the five-year mission. We know that Spock is going to run away after that, trying to erase all his emotions in Gol. So, in this specific part of his story, I find pretty in character that he'd tell Jim to find happiness with someone else. That's what he'd do, regardless of his own feelings.

So, Jim knows his two best friends think he should say "yes" to Laura. What happens next?

During a mission, Jim meets his ex Carol Marcus. She is surprised to find out that Jim is considering settling down. This is not completely related to this analysis, so I won't post it, but I found interesting that Carol knows about every single woman Jim dated before he became captain (the only one she doesn't name is Ruth), and she even says "And that woman in 1930, what was her name?" Just… how the hell does she know? LMAO

At least Jim hasn't told her about Miramanee and Rayna (well, technically he doesn't even remember the latter), but seriously, Carol does know a lot about Jim's private life, even if it's clear she doesn't want her or their son to be part of it. (Not really related to this plot, but in case you're confused about the timeline: David is a child in this era; however, he doesn't appear in this story.)

Anyway, this is what she eventually tells him:

So, I like to think that Carol is genuinely trying to help Jim here, because the spiteful ex girlfriend is another thing I don't really want to see in 2020. I want to think that the creators meant well; however, what happens in the story is that, despite Jim not seeing himself outside the captain's chair, and despite his best friends telling him to marry the captain that is just like him… Jim keeps thinking about Carol's words.

He knows from Starfleet that he's going to be promoted to admiral the moment he reaches Earth. What is interesting here is that Jim could refuse the promotion and be a captain with Laura. This is definitely a different situation from everything else I've seen before. It's obvious to anyone who has watched TOS movies that Jim is not happy as an admiral. He didn't really want to be one. He doesn't want to be one in this comic series either (you can see it explored in Star Trek: Year Five main story). However, thanks to The Motion Picture, we also know that he will accept promotion at the end of his five-year mission. This isn't a canon divergence story: the writers can't really change any major event, so they have to work with what canon offers.

What I find interesting is that in this 2020 comic, Jim finds himself in the opposite situation he is in Gene Roddenberry's The Motion Picture novelization from 1979. In Roddenberry's novel, it's mentioned briefly that Jim starts a relationship on Earth with a vice-admiral, a woman that was basically asked to use her charm to keep Jim grounded. Jim could refuse promotion, but he finds himself lost, without his ship, without Spock, and eventually without Bones. So he tries to convince himself that a life as an admiral with a perfect woman by his side will be good for him (it will not; Jim himself will realize a year later that his lover was an "Enterprise-surrogate").

Now, I understand trying to write something fresher and more modern in this Valentine's Day special, but I confess that I find a little hard to believe that Jim would accept a promotion as admiral if the alternative was keeping both a starship AND a wife. Also, let's not forget that Spock and Bones are both telling him to choose the married captain life. So, while I totally get from a writer's point of view that if you can't change canon, you have to work with what you have, I'm also not sure that Carol reminding Jim that he's always wanted to challenge himself is enough to make him doubt everything.

I guess I can sort of see that as part of a bigger problem: Jim knows he can't be a captain for life; during his first date with Laura, as we saw in Part 1 of my analysis, he talks about it.

"I've been thinking lately about whether I could ever stop being a Starfleet captain. Whether I could ever want to. A friend of mine talks about 'infinite diversity'. That applies to the Federation, too. But here I am, only built for one thing."

So, Jim knows he has probably avoided the subject for too long. Carol is forcing him to think about it. And, more implicitly, we could say Spock and his IDIC philosophy are also making him think, even if it's not what Spock would have expected. After all, Spock told Jim to marry Laura (in the comic), and he'll tell him that being a starship captain is his "first, best destiny" (in The Wrath of Khan).

Anyway, Jim eventually decides to meet Laura and talk to her about his personal concerns. First of all, we find out that the two of them haven't called each other for six weeks. Laura is still waiting for Jim's answer, and she didn't want to call him. If you ask me, their lack of communication is yet another a big clue that perhaps getting married is not a great idea.

Well, now Jim is at least trying to talk to her.

Aaand that's how she breaks up with him.

I'm not sure how to feel about this. I mean, in a sense, Jim doesn't say "I decided to be an admiral instead of marrying you", but Laura definitely sees it that way. I think he was genuinely looking for help, but that just proves that Laura isn't the right person for him. Why marrying someone you can't communicate with? They are such a great team as captains, but it looks like that doesn't apply to their relationship. I pointed out other clues in the previous parts, and now we got this. It's interesting to see that Jim in this comic can have a normal conversation about his future with Spock, Bones, and even Carol Marcus, but not with the person he's supposed to build a future with. Unless something changes between them, it can't work out.

Anyway, this isn't the end.

A year later, when Jim is an admiral on Earth, there's a sudden emergency. A miniature black hole appears out of the deep structure of the universe (don't blame me for the science, I'm literally quoting the comic LOL) and it's attracted to Earth gravity. Short story: they're all going to die, but fortunately the Drake (Laura's ship) can cause an anti-matter implosion that will shunt the black hole outside their reality. Unfortunately, that also means the Drake will have to go inside the black hole. Laura evacuates her crew and asks Admiral Kirk to give her the order to proceed. Reluctantly, Jim tells her that he knows she'll do it, and he gives the order.

Now, please appreciate The Motion Picture aesthetic:

Okay, I know I could have chosen a panel with Jim and Laura, since this is literally their love story, but I did say this analysis was going to be biased, so here is Laura with her two closest friends instead; they would never let her risk her life alone! <3 They are very obviously meant to be a parallel to what Spock and Bones are to Jim, which is very cute to see. Now, Laura, listen to me: I know the three of you have different ranks, but you may die in a few seconds… And I just think that the few times your friends appear in this comic, you have a lot of chemistry with them, sooo maybe you should forget about Jim and just smooch one of them, or both… just saying :)

Ahem. Anyway, after Laura and her girlfriends disappear into the void, there's another timeskip. This time it's 15 years.

Oh, damn.

I said in the premise of this analysis that one of the reasons I decided to read this comic despite shipping Kirk/Spock is that, in my headcanon, Kirk and Spock get together after The Motion Picture. Until this point, this comic hasn't really gone against my headcanon. I can genuinely believe that Jim had another girlfriend during his five-year mission; it's not a big deal. Unfortunately for me, this comic has its last part taking place around The Final Frontier era. Dammit.

Well, it's just one comic. I read until this point; it'd be illogical not to read until the end, right? Nah, it's not logic. It's human curiosity. I know I won't like it, but I still want to see it.

Also, if there's something that I really don't want to see in modern media anymore, is female characters dying just to make male characters suffer. I can accept that in TOS show because it was made in the 1960s, but even TOS movies got better about it! Characters like Saavik and Gillian can have their own lives without having to die for a man's pain. It's not a coincidence that the writers had to kill Spock to make Jim suffer. Without digressing too much, I just wanted to say that K/S bias aside, I went into this comic hoping to read something different from another dead woman for Jim. I'm very glad that, at least about this, the comic creators didn't disappoint me!

So, in this story, it's been 15 years since Laura's disappearance (actually, it should be more, but I'll try not to nitpick, despite being the trekkies' favorite hobby :D). Anyway, the one with the whales The Voyage Home happened, and Jim is not an admiral anymore. He's happy to have a starship again, but he hasn't stopped questioning his life decisions.

We can also see that, 15 years later, he's reading the book Laura liked.

HOLD IT! WAIT WAIT WAIT! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??? WHAT THE--

*inhales deeply*

(Friendly reminder to myself that what is obvious to me may not be obvious to everyone else, so I need to explain. Fine. I'll try.)

The screenshots I posted are from The Wrath of Khan, right after Spock's funeral. What Jim is doing there is reading the end of the book that Spock gave him for his birthday. He's mourning Spock.

In the comic panel, Jim has a new pair of glasses, because it takes place a little later in the timeline. But, except for that…

It's the same scene.

The same fucking scene.

I mean, come on! I can't even post the "they're the same picture" meme, because it's not funny if they're literally the same picture! Even the bookmark is the same!

The comic creators literally took a canon scene about Jim reading Spock's book after Spock is gone, and they redrew it with Jim reading Laura's book after Laura is gone. In a Valentine's Day special. Where Laura is Jim's love interest. They made a romantic scene with Jim and a woman that was originally about Jim and Spock.

(Brb, I'm going to chew a pillow until I calm down.)

So. Well. If you wondered why I thought there was something about Kirk/Spock in this comic… you have your answer. Perhaps the artist didn't think anything about it. I certainly do.

And I guess someone could say, "But Jim is still reading Laura's book 15 years later! That's true love!" Why yes, he's not reading Spock's book 15 years later, because he didn't stay without Spock for 15 years; he risked everything and lost all the most important things in his life to save Spock's soul.

Anyway, back to the comic. Starfleet receives a signal from the edge of Federation space. It's the Drake. Laura and her friends are alive.

Jim and Laura have a reunion after a long separation. Since they're both captains now, Jim thinks they are given a second chance.

Oh, whoops.

It's her turn now. It looks like being away for 15 years has changed her (as you can expect, honestly), and she's now glad to become an admiral. In this comic, that means Jim can't marry her. So, this is how the story ends:

So. Um.

This isn't a bad ending, but I also wouldn't exactly call it a happy ending. It's certainly not a happily ever after story. I'd call it open, maybe hopeful? Honestly, pretty much what I'd expect from a love story between an original character and Jim, so I can't say the writing is disappointing about that.

On the other hand, I can't personally imagine middle-aged Jim being so eager to start a romance again with someone he hasn't seen in 15 years who broke up with him 16 years ago. Perhaps he felt guilty about Laura's disappearance because if he had married her, they would have been part of a colonization fleet somewhere else and the incident wouldn't have happened the same way? Maybe. Personally, I would have found more believable an ending where Jim asks her to have dinner together or go for a walk, and then something romantic happening as they get to know each other again. But I can see why the creators wanted to bring up the marriage proposal again, just to close the circle. The comic is just 32 pages, so they did what they could.

"Unless there's someone else." "Not so much. I've been really busy."

Busy with what? Oh, right: Spock's death, Spock's body on Genesis, Spock's rebirth on Vulcan, the time travel (okay, that one wasn't 100% Spock-related), Spock's brother… Honestly, just say there's been a lot of Spock in your life, Jim, because that's the truth :)

On a more serious note, I guess that dialogue could mean that Jim has someone, but "he's been too busy" to do anything serious with them. However, as a K/S monoshipper I don't really like the idea of Jim being in an open relationship with Spock, so Jim's character in the entire scene in the end is just a big NOPE for me. Sorry.

That said, I found very interesting that in a few panels they show very clearly the "captain" rank on Jim and Laura's shoulders, to point out that it's the same. They can't be together forever, but they can have fun for a few days as captains. Because of that, I went back to the start of the last timeskip, just to check out something:

Fascinating.

This is a pretty detailed panel, where you can see the ranks on the shoulders of Jim's friends; the colors of their pins are also pretty good, close to the ones in the movies… except for Spock's.

Oh, please. Did you really expect me not to pay attention to this? :)

Captain Kirk and Captain Spock.

And unlike Laura, this is what they are until the end! The end of a very long life! Generations? What's Generations? Spock will eventually become an ambassador, but that's just a different job. How did Spock himself put it earlier in this comic?

"I am something of an expert on the subject of James T. Kirk. And I believe someone of equal status would offer you the best possible chance of happiness."

Did the comic creators just play themselves? I don't know, I'm quoting their own story here! LOL

And what about Jim's words from the same scene? :D

"Starfleet is getting a lot better at partners of equal rank working together."

Partners. Of equal rank. Working together.

That's literally what Kirk and Spock are since the end of The Voyage Home! Without an expiration date!

The comic creators made a big deal in their universe about relationships being better between two captains, and how good Jim and Laura may have been for each other if they had married as captains; and now they can't have their happily ever after because Laura is going to be an admiral… But even if the comic tries to hide it, we know there is a captain in Jim's life. And to make things better, Jim lost his admiral rank to bring him back. Listen, I'm a huge Old Married Kirk/Spock fan, so there's no way anything can make me forget that in the last TOS movies they're both captains. And there's no way I can forget that Jim risked his entire career (and everything else!) for Spock, and that's literally why he's not an admiral anymore.

This is almost ironic in this Valentine's Day comic. If it hadn't been for Spock, Jim would have still been an admiral, and he could have married Laura. Whoops. Too bad.

Speaking of admirals, I didn't notice it at first, but there's also something about this line Laura says in the last panel I posted…

"And don't you dare 'Admiral' me."

Ah, yes, a typical thing you tell someone you're planning to have sex with. Right, Laura? Agreed :)

Honestly, at this point I should just stop checking this comic, because I wonder if I'd just end up finding a Kirk/Spock version of every Kirk/Laura Rhone line LOL

By the way, I have other thoughts to share now that the story is over, but there's one more thing first. Do you remember the last panels of the comic? Middle-aged Jim and Laura kiss; END.

Okay. After that, the comic has a picture of the cover, with Jim and Laura kissing when they're younger.

And then it has this:

dklsfjlskjflskjlksjlkdlkgjdlfgsnfjekniuwanf LISTEN, HOW--

Just how am I even supposed to say anything that makes sense about this…??? I'm just… I can't…

Okay. So. We're talking about a Valentine's Day comic. It makes sense for it to include a cute Valentine card. I also get that Spock's iconic line has become so mainstream that it can be quoted out of context. And you can make parodies.

But… But… A Star Trek TOS fan can't really forget the original context of "I have been and always shall be your friend"? Someone could just not think about it, I guess… But, well, I know that at least I can't forget that this is literally Spock's line to Jim rewritten in a romantic Valentine's Day version. I can't possibly NOT think about it!

And I know it's very possible that the people who worked on the comic story weren't even aware of this extra, but the fact that I'm seeing this after reading about Jim Kirk's romance without happily ever after… Jim kisses a woman he can't stay with forever, and then there's Spock's "I have been and always shall be your Valentine". It's just so fucking funny. I can't. If I was feeling a little down after seeing middle-aged Jim wanting to marry Laura, now I'm laughing again. Thanks, Spock's silly Valentine card. I needed it! :D

Anyway, what did I say about this comic taking things originally created for Kirk and Spock's relationship and making them romantic when they're not about them? I can believe that sometimes it's a coincidence, but this card? Please… In a sense, this is the perfect ending.

---

Conclusions.

I started this comic with a question: in 2020, how do you write a story about TOS Kirk falling in love? I wanted to see this attempt. Overall, I think the creators did what they could. Laura is different from every other woman in Jim's life; they didn't kill her off, and they also didn't force a happy ending. I think they did a good job with the canon limitations they had, especially in 32 pages.

Do I believe that Laura could have been a good match for Jim in different circumstances?

As a temporary girlfriend? Yes.

As a lifelong partner? No.

Of course, I'm aware my answer is biased, but I can try to be a little more "logical" about it.

First of all, I think that the comic itself supports my interpretation: of course, like in every story, different people are going to see different things; however, as I already pointed out, Jim and Laura never say that they love each other, and before the marriage proposal their relationship is pretty casual.

In The Original Series, Jim isn't lucky when it comes to romance because the women he falls in love with can't really understand his nature as a space explorer. Sometimes they can, like in Carol's case, and that's why they break up with him. Laura is the opposite, because she's just like Jim. But here is the thing: I think Laura is too much like him.

What would have happened if Jim had accepted to marry her at the end of the five-year mission? They would have been both captains. On different ships, though. Sure, they could have been part of the same colonization fleet, as Jim says in the comic, and maybe it would have worked for a while. However, would they really have seen each other as much as Jim needs?

I don't know about Laura, but we see multiple times in canon that behind his mask as a starship captain, Jim is definitely more lonely than what someone may think.

First of all, don't get me wrong: in these screenshots from The Naked Time, Jim is single, so of course his attraction to Janice Rand is related to that. It's not the same situation he'd be in if he were married to Laura. Early in the series, he has thoughts about his yeoman exactly because he doesn't have anyone else. Contrary to his fame as a womanizer, TOS Jim in canon always has one woman at a time in his mind, never more.

So, why am I sharing those lines? To show that when Jim is always inside the Enterprise, he does feel lonely. He needs a romantic partner's physical touch. However, we also know that Jim does not want a relationship with one of his subordinates, so Janice Rand and the rest of his crew are off limits.

Laura is good for him because she's part of Starfleet, and not a subordinate. But is that really enough? From what I've seen in the comic, no. At the end of the day, it looks to me that Jim and Laura don't really know how to plan a future together. Perhaps it's because they're so similar, but they don't really think of themselves as a couple, especially Laura. There's Captain James T. Kirk and Captain Laura Rhone; they both love their ships, so they should get married? That's not how it works.

Their relationship is casual. Jim doesn't want to define it. Are they friends with benefits? Are they in an open relationship? Either way, when Laura decides to marry him, she asks around if Jim has someone else, and only after that she asks him. Jim, on the other hand, doesn't talk to her for six weeks after her proposal. He talks to Spock and Bones immediately, but not to her. He even talks to Carol first.

Then, when Jim finally tries to talk to her about his problems, she doesn't listen. Their lack of communication is the cause of their break up.

16 years later, what we see is even worse. It's obvious that Laura has just different priorities. Maybe it's because of what happened to her lost in space, but I'm not sure. If they had married at the end of the five-year mission, would have Laura always refused a promotion to admiral? Would she have tried to get a promotion with Jim? Based on what we see in this comic, it doesn't look likely to me.

Now, as I said, different people are going to see different things, so I'm sure that someone really invested in this romance can imagine that Jim and Laura are really meant to be, and they can get their happy ending after their retirement, or in other ways. However, I admit that Jim and Laura's huge communication issues make hard to me to picture a long happy relationship between them. They should both try to get better, but in those 32 pages there was no hint towards that direction.

There's another thing that makes really hard to find any love interest for Jim as a plausible "happily ever after" option: the stakes. I know that it's just a single comic, so the creators had to focus on a few things; however, I couldn't help but notice that Jim and Laura never really save each other from dangerous situations. They work together as a team, and Jim watches Laura disappearing into the void, but does he do anything about it? Does he try to reach her inside her ship before she disappears into the black hole? Does he try to bring her back from the void? No, he doesn't.

In TOS show and movies, Jim Kirk risks so much for his crew and his ship that a Star Trek fan can't believe that a new woman is the love of his life, unless Jim is willing to do for her everything he does for his friends. And honestly, after The Search for Spock… how can he even come close to do that?

And it's not just about Jim's actions. There's his language too. At the start of the third movie, Jim refers to Spock as "the noblest part of myself". What could he say about a love interest that is as deep as this?

Let's be honest here: the reason it's so hard to write a story about Jim Kirk's true love is that the real love story for him has already been written. You may not see it romantically, but Kirk and Spock's story is absolutely a love story. And when a character has someone he loves so deeply, it's not easy to convince the audience that he could have someone new to love as deeply. In Jim's case, the combination of his personality and his canon life makes it almost impossible.

Anyway, before I end up not so accidentally turning this analysis into a complete Kirk/Spock ship manifesto, I'm just going to mention one silly thing about the Valentine's Day comic. Please, don't take it too seriously, I'm half-joking :)

So, there are two kiss scenes in the story: one when Jim and Laura start to spend a lot of free time together, and one in the last panel. Well, I can't believe Jim isn't holding Laura's shoulders when he kisses her! That's just the basis of the way Jim kisses women! D:

Different Star Trek characters kiss in different ways; it fits their personalities. And because the rest of my TOS posts are probably too gay for these gifs, I'm dropping them as references here:

Sorry, but if Jim Kirk doesn't grab someone's shoulders before a kiss, it just kills my immersion! :P

Okay, a little more seriously: Jim doesn't always kiss women the same way; however, his "shoulder grab" is common enough that you definitely notice it if you pay attention. Because of that, I think it would have been nice to include it in the Valentine's Day comic.

After reading this comic, what kind of person would I consider perfect for Jim?

Well, my answer is obvious. However, I'll try to elaborate.

First of all, this story definitely convinced me even more that Jim can only be really happy with another Starfleet officer (or at least someone who's been deeply involved with Starfleet). He also needs someone who understands him as a space explorer, without trying to keep him grounded. And someone very smart, of course. These are all traits Laura has. But they're just the basis.

I don't think Jim needs someone in command of their own ship as a lifelong partner. As I said before, I can't really imagine it working out. Another starship captain would have their own goals and their own ambitions; that doesn't mean Jim shouldn't marry someone with specific plans for their own career, but I think these plans should keep the two of them close, not on different ships. Jim needs his partner physically at his side; if he could be happy in a long-distance relationship, I believe we would have seen at least one working out in canon. But it's never the case. Working on different starships from the same fleet would be a little better, but in my opinion not enough, unless it's for a short period of time.

And there's also the matter of his partner's personality. Jim is a natural leader; that's why he's so good at his job. I don't think he needs a similar kind of leader as romantic partner. This is just my personal opinion, but I believe they would just fight about everything they disagree about. I think he needs someone calmer in his life, not someone who'd encourage emotional outbursts.

More importantly, he absolutely needs someone he can communicate with. If he can't talk to his partner about everything important, they're not the right person for him. That doesn't mean they can't have disagreements or miscommunication issues, of course, but they shouldn't happen all the time, and Jim and his partner should be able to talk about them and make up.

In conclusion: someone at his side on his ship, smart, calm, trustworthy :)

Now, I know what some of you are thinking about: what about the "no relationships with subordinates" personal rule Jim has? How can Jim be in a relationship with Spock (or anyone else on the Enterprise) if he's everyone's superior officer? Well, first of all, I already said that after The Voyage Home, Jim and Spock are both captains. And before that… I think that Spock in the comic phrased it the right way. Jim can find his happiness with someone of "equal status". I think it's pretty clear, in my opinion, that Janice Rand and Spock aren't the same kind of subordinates to Jim. Just think about it: which members of the Enterprise call their captain "Jim"? Bones, Spock and (occasionally) Scotty. These are the three people I believe are "equals" in private to Jim, no matter their ranks when they're on duty. Because of that, a relationship between Jim and Spock could work pretty well.

By the way, another thing the Valentine's Day comic made me think about is that in TOS movies, Jim sort of does with Spock pretty much everything he does with Laura in this story. Not the same way, of course, but does it matter? Spock is his own person, he's not Jim's copy. That doesn't mean he can't indulge Jim, have fun himself… and try to stop Jim from doing dangerous things "for fun", as an old spouse would :)

Okay, perhaps throwing each other into the water doesn't count as dancing, but it's so much better :D

In conclusion, this is the way I can read the Valentine's Day comic as a Kirk/Spock shipper:

Jim mentions Spock on his first date with a woman.

Jim questions his life choices as he thinks about Spock and IDIC philosophy.

Jim does with Laura everything we see him doing in TOS show, except for playing chess (just the thing he does with Spock).

Jim says Laura and him are a good team in Starfleet because they had a lot of sex (is that true about other people he works well with??)

There haven't been many ladies or gentlemen in Jim's life because he's busy (not because he's not into men, apparently).

"Starfleet is getting a lot better at partners of equal rank working together." Good for your future with Spock, Jim!

If Jim and Laura got married, they could both teach at Starfleet Academy, something Jim is totally going to do with Spock someday.

Mister "I am something of an expert on the subject of James T. Kirk" Spock.

Also, Mister "I believe someone of equal status would offer you the best possible chance of happiness" Spock, which is actual foreshadowing of his own future status with Jim.

Hey, look at Jim reading a book that reminds him of his lost love! I wonder where I've seen LITERALLY THE SAME PICTURE???

"Don't 'Admiral' me". This is totally not similar to what Jim tells Spock in The Voyage Home, of course.

Hey, we're both captains now! Just for a few days, but isn't that great? I wonder if anyone else is a captain now, and forever? :D

"I have been and always shall be your Valentine". Totally not a Kirk/Spock line, I don't know what you're talking about! :)

Okay, okay, that's all.

As a Kirk/Spock shipper, I won't deny that I'm a little jealous of this Valentine's Day special comic, because I wish we could get something with amazing art like this where Jim is in love with Spock. On the other hand, Star Trek: Year Five comic series has a few scenes about Jim & Spock's friendship that I really liked. Platonic, sure, but good enough for my K/S goggles!

Thank you so much for reading this post until the end! I hope you enjoyed my analysis! Live long and prosper!

#star trek analysis #star trek: year five #star trek: year five valentine's day special #star trek comics #james t. kirk #laura rhone #spirk #star trek tos #star trek the original series #k/s #kirk x spock #space husbands #my gifs

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