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wri0thesley · 3 years

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jjk boys with a chubby s/o

not sfw, minors dni! fem reader implied

♡ —-> below the cut: gojo, nanami, geto, toji, sukuna, mahito, naoya, choso <—- ♡

♡ Gojo has always been traditionally handsome; he’s always had people turn their head to look at him, especially when his eyes are uncovered. But he likes what he likes, and what he likes is you: how soft you feel against him, how cute you two look together - lean muscle and soft curves. How your hands feel when you hold them.

He buys you whatever you want, and if you walk into a boutique that looks at you funny he’ll walk right the fuck back out. If you say you want something but you’re unsure how you’ll look in it, Gojo’s already buying it and shrugging off that if you don’t like it, you don’t have to wear it.

Has a sweet tooth; his absolute favourite place to be, then, is drinking up the sweet slick from between your thighs and wearing your soft plush as earmuffs. He’s strong and he can toss you around no matter how much you weigh, but nothing quite compares to feeling your weight on his shoulders as he makes you come on his tongue, over and over and over again.

- ♡ -

♡ Nanami is reserved about how much he adores your body, but not as reserved as he’d like to be. You can often see the glint of his eyes behind glasses as his gaze slides over your soft thighs and the pudge of your upper arms, the curve of your tummy - and if you notice he loosens his tie, swallows . . . well, he blames it on how it’s getting hot in here, isn’t it?

He loves you being in bed next to him. Nothing beats sinking into your soft, warm embrace after he’s spent the day in overtime - resting his head on your chest, sighing as he runs his fingertips over your silky skin. He’s built like a brick wall, and there’s something so soothing and calming about having your malleable body against his.

His favourite thing about you is how cute and round your cheeks look when you’ve got your mouth wrapped around his cock - he has to stop himself pinching them, as he stares at the glossy circle of your lips about his shaft. He’s the kind of man who likes being in control anyway, and seeing you on your knees gets him going . . . but fuck, your face when you’re sucking him off really does it for him.

- ♡ -

♡ Geto raised two girls and he’s used to reassuring people about body hang-ups - but when you have them, there’s a little flare of anger in the bottom of his stomach that anybody could ever make you feel inferior or like you’re not the most beautiful person in the world. He can’t get enough of your body. He can’t get enough of your frame pressed against his, of how domestic and soft you look wrapped up in his bedsheets.

His weakness is your thighs. If you wear a pair of shorts, or a short skirt, or god forbid thigh high stockings . . . He really can’t control himself. He can’t not want to touch you and dig his fingers in hard enough to bruise. He can’t not drag you to the nearest quiet, out of the way place and fuck your thighs - and at night, you’ll always find them littered with bitemarks. He just can’t get enough of them.

- ♡ -

♡ Toji doesn’t seem like he’d be very good with your fears about yourself, but he really is. For all of his tough guy act, inside he’s surprisingly soft where somebody he cares about is concerned. So he’ll fight if someone’s rude to you, he’ll reassure you that you look gorgeous before the two of you go out - and sometimes slyly suggest that you wear something shorter, or tighter, or more low-cut.

He touches you in public all the time becuase he wants people to know that you belong to him. He’ll full-on grind against you, squeezing your ass and your thighs and any part of you he can get to, palming your skin through whatever you’re wearing in delight at how soft you are and how easily you yield to him.

And yes, he fucking loves it when you sit on his face. He’s not a coward. He’s one of the ‘it’s not gonna kill me, darlin’, but if it did it’d be a damn good way to go’ brigade.

- ♡ -

♡ Sukuna hates it when you’re down on yourself. You’re his favoured little human pet, and that you’d dare to insinuate he doesn’t have exquisite taste? He’ll make you stand in front of a mirror and stare at yourself whilst all four of his hands and arms explore every inch of your body and he murmurs right into your ear all of the things he loves about you. The curve of your hips, the fullness of your thighs, your chest, your softness, your everything, one clawed hand holding your chin so you look yourself in the eye.

Feeds you by hand only the sweetest and most tender morsels. Adores you sat in his lap, so everyone knows that you’re his. Adores mindlessly touching and groping you like you’re stress relief, and he has four hands to do exactly that with.

He doesn’t have a favourite part of you because all of you is small compared to his massive bulk so he sees you as a whole rather than parts, but he loves watching you bounce on his two cocks; he loves the light jiggle of your stomach, the way your chest bounces, the way you look a little sweaty and breathless - and most of all, he loves knowing that he’s the cause of it.

- ♡ -

♡ Mahito thinks you are so fucking cute. He doesn’t have the human hang-ups about beauty and weight, so all he sees is the person who he wants to be with - curves and softness and roundness and all. He sees how soft your skin is and how pliable and pliant you are when he tugs you around, and he can’t get enough of touching you everywhere with every part of him. You’re bitten and sucked and kissed and licked, Mahito pressing his cheek against you, rubbing up against you and all in all getting as much of his fill as possible.

He loves your ass. He loves having you on your hands and knees and spanking you to watch how the flesh reacts; he loves watching his cock disappear between your legs. He loves the shape of you, and how he can curl himself over you so all of your body is pressed against all of his. He loves, too, how much of a canvas of skin you have for him to come all over.

- ♡ -

♡ Naoya is staring at your hips and thighs from the moment he meets you, and it doesn’t let up. This is a man who buys you clothes a little too small so he can see straps dig into plump shoulders, cling to all of the places you curve, and devour your body in them. He’s another who’ll fight if someone disrespects you; being rude to you is tantamount to being rude to him, and that’s unacceptable.

His hands are on you all of the time, but usually on your hips - he likes you by his side, ostensibly so he can keep an eye on you but really so that he can have his hands all over you. You’re often steered around by those hands on your hips - it’s a wonder you don’t have permanent bruises in the shape of the curl of his fingers.

It’s even more of a wonder considering how tightly he clings onto them when he fucks you, your love handles making the absolute perfect way for him to steady himself as he fucks you for the fourth time that night. You know. Just to make sure you’re absolutely full of his come.

- ♡ -

♡ Choso is embarrassed by how he finds himself staring at you - the curves of your body in your clothes, the plump thighs and soft arms and rounded stomach. He’s embarrassed by the flush of heat that goes through him when you bite your lip or you stretch and your shirt shows your tummy, or when you brush against him and you’re so soft he thinks he’s walked into a cloud for a moment.

He tries so hard to describe how much he adores your body to you, but he doesn’t have the words beyond softly mumbling about how pretty you are and how he can’t keep his eyes off of you. He falls asleep on your thighs. He thinks your embrace is the most comfortable place in the world--

And in bed, he touches every single inch of you with his fingers and his kisses, no matter how long it takes, mumbling reverently about how perfect you are and how he could touch you forever.

- ♡ -

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #geto x reader #toji x reader #sukuna x reader #mahito x reader #naoya x reader #choso x reader #not sfw text #chubby reader posting #fem reader implied #jjk posting #jjk headcanons

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jq37 · 3 years

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The Report Card – Fantasy High: The Seven Ep 2

The Girls Are Fighting!!!

We return to Aguefort Adventuring Academy where the man himself has just told the Seven Maidens that their party is being split up which they are NOT having even though it doesn’t seem to be a malicious plot so much as the fact that Danielle, Ostentatia, and Zelda are Juniors while the other four are graduating Seniors. Antiope casts Hunter’s Mark on Aguefort, Penny pleads, Katja threatens (well, “threatens”; she walks up menacingly and then says that he can’t do this because it’s the only group of friends she’s ever had and it’s heartbreaking like all of her non-hilarious dialogue is).

Aguefort understands that it sucks and has no respect for rules but says it’s out of his hands. Sam clocks that he’s hiding something (along with the fact that he seems to know about something going on with Antiope and Penny which we know is their respective internship/apprenticeship offers) and calls him out, hitting him with a Lightning Lure to drag his ass back when he tries to turn into a bat and escape out the window. She’s unhinged and I love it.

So does Aguefort who decides to let them in on some school secrets, leaving a decoy while he leads them all to the super secret part of the forbidden library which is bondage themed because sure. Also, Ostentatia is topless for this also because sure. He does a lot of pomp and circumstance to summon a book which Yelle flatly says better not just be the syllabus and it isn’t but she’s close. It’s the bylaws of the school district which he has summoned for the guidelines on the special, magical thing the girls can get so they can graduate together…

Their GEDS!!!!! Trés mystical.

Basically what they need to do is complete a level A, B, or C quest together (which Antiope knows are like the top 3 highest difficulty quests--they go from A-F) and get signoff from the superintendent. But the superintendent has been missing for 12 years and there can’t be a new one until she’s dead (which she isn’t or else they’d be able to appoint a new one). Her name is Tectonya Karkovnya (who I will be calling TK) and Aguefort calls her, “chaotic and impossible to predict,” which coming from him is como se dice, troubling.

Sam pulls out her mirror to do a little snooping on TK’s past and sees that she’s a coppery, earth genasi woman. She also sees her talking to Aguefort and saying that the magic of consciousness is far superior to his beloved chronomancy. Then the scene shifts to show her getting more and more worried as she got deeper into her studies and then going to a dwarven holy site in the Mountains of Chaos with some kind of shadow figure following her.

Penny gets photos of the super cursed bylaws and Arthur leaves since he very much is the principal of the school and has to do his job (ostensibly). With Aguefort gone, the girls discuss the proposition after conscripting a very reluctant Antiope to be their leader (Aabria hilariously improvises that a shaft of sunlight somehow comes down to illuminate her and she has to step out of the spotlight).

They discuss whether they want to do this GED quest or not and Zelda says she wants to but she wants to give anyone who has other stuff going on an out so they don’t feel beholden. Ostentatia immediately shoots back that Zelda is just saying that because she has plans with Gorgug. That brings down the mood and Sam, despite being a water genasi, fans the flames by saying that Gorgug has lots going on that doesn’t involve her so she shouldn’t be running back to him all the time.

Yelle tries to calm things down and says they should sleep on it but Sam and Ostentatia are taking this super personally and are offended that they’re even having this conversation. Penny accidentally lets slip that she has some kind of apprenticeship (she’s trying to keep it on the DL because it’s supposed to be a secret) and oh man it becomes a Whole Thing. They fight in the way that you do when everyone in the fight actually wants the same thing and cares deeply about each other but are in completely different headspaces which are making them lash out.

Penny, not wanting to be around the conflict, goes invisible. Zelda is suppressing going into a rage and says that maybe she should go be with Gorgug. At least he won’t yell at her. Yelle once again tries to cool things down and suggests they have a text thread where they can say if they’re in or out by the end of the night instead of hashing it out in the open. She’s accused of not being in and, in response, texts that she’s in. Ostentatia and Sam also immediately text that they’re in, which basically makes her “solution” entirely moot.

Zelda is finally fully fed up and leaves (Penny following invisibly). Katja also follows.

Antiope can tell that Sam is upset about something that’s not this but Sam brushes her off rudely and storms off (quite literally, causing storm clouds outside in her wake). Yelle goes after her. Ostentatia is left with Antiope.

Time for a string of very emotional mini scenes which I highly encourage you to watch because they are peak improv.

Zelda, Katja, (Invisible) Penny

Katja runs to find Zelda who is under a tree crying and asks if she’s OK. Zelda says that Sam and Ostentatia are so beautiful and confident and eloquent and she gets so tongue tied and useless when they disagree with her because she’s so timid. Zelda wants this so bad but she doesn’t want to feel like she’s forcing her friends to stay with her.

Katja, as we know, has major abandonment issues because of her constantly away dad (and prob her mom too) and she doesn’t want to be left behind again but she also doesn’t want her friends to factor her in so she tries to be stoic and says that the people you love have to want to stay. But with a 3, Zelda immediately clocks the emotion behind the words. Instead of calling her out, Zelda offers to listen to music with her.

Penny takes this opportunity to make herself known (which has got to be terrifying--unless you’re used to it and then it’s like same shit as usual from Ms. Luckstone) and Zelda goat jumps to grab her out of the tree she was crying in above them and tells her that she doesn’t have to go invisible every time there’s conflict. They all agree that they hate confrontation and Rehka gets the funniest lowkey line of the episodes: that she wouldn’t know what to do if they didn’t agree on that. We then cut to…

Ostentatia and Antiope

Where Izzy gets the high key funniest moment of the episode by transitioning in with a big, “You know I LOVE confrontation,” which breaks everyone at the table. But she says it as a preface to admitting that she may have been a bit of a bitch to Zelda. She plays coy for like a half second before she breaks down sobbing with Antiope catching her before she sinks fully to the floor. Antiope comforts her and admits that while she wants to stay with the party, she hates having options taken away from her as they have been her whole life effectively. She was honestly kind of relieved when she was trapped in the crystal because it meant all that pressure was gone for a bit. They affirm that they love each other then Ostentatia goes to apologize to Zelda.

Danielle and Sam

Yelle goes to talk to Sam (who she adorably calls “merbae”) and while Sam doesn’t wanna talk about it, Yelle says they don’t have to. She just wants to be there for her in whatever capacity she needs. She knows Sam loves her friends and would never hurt them on purpose so something must be wrong with her-- “History of abandonment?” Sam finishes, almost glibly. She’s tired of losing people. She doesn’t want to lose more. She doesn’t want things to change. Nature is change, Yelle says. Nature sucks, Sam says. Yelle is gonna pretend like she didn't hear that.

Sam feels bad that she snapped at Zelda and Yelle says that they’re all a family. Things will be alright. The storm clouds that Sam reflexively summoned peter out into a cool, refreshing mist.

Ostentatia and Zelda

Ostentatia goes to where Zelda and the girls are and full ass runs at her like they weren’t just fighting. After assuring her that she’s not there to fight she apologizes, saying she was a cow. Zelda says she honestly agrees with Ostentatia that she wants the group to stay together and wishes she could be bolder in non-rage settings. Ostentatia says that maybe if the Seniors leave they can still have a party and Penny vetos that even though, as Ostentatia says, it’s a pretty reasonable compromise. Anyway, they basically all go in a circle saying they love each other and it’s very sweet.

I’m serious, I can’t do these heart to hearts justice in this format, just go watch them for that emotional girl group goodness.

Anyway, outside of the main group, Antiope goes to talk to her sister Corsica who is currently teaching a class. Antiope does not give AF. She orders the students out and they scatter. Wouldn’t you?

Antiope wants advice. Should she stay with her party after flaming out of her last one? Should she take the internship and stay on the path her parents want her on? Corsica really feels for her. Antiope has had to struggle in a way that she and their brothers never did. She finally answers that she and her brothers are awesome and successful fighters but none of them have been able to do the scariest thing possible: disappoint their parents. They’re soldiers. They like it that way. They fall in line. But maybe Antiope isn’t a soldier. Maybe she’s a leader. She ordered those kids out of the room without thinking after all and they obeyed. It’s an extremely good speech and Antiope basically has chills, as do I.

I assume while this is happening or perhaps right before everyone goes home, Penny goes to see Jawbone (who has some spiffy new art--as did Gilear who cameoed early in the episode when Aguefort atomic wedgied him invisibly because sure) and talk about this uber difficult decision she had to make. Jawbone gets to the heart of the matter pretty quick. Penny is a high achiever who’s lived a life without choice. But now that she’s about to be off the rails for the time she’s freaking out. Penny sees the truth in the statement (after hilariously trying to solve his metaphor about an amusement park) and thanks him for the perspective. She then, in a very Fig move, tries to kiss him and Jawbone basically stiff arms her and breezes right past like it didn’t happen, showing her out. What a trooper that Jawbone.

Moving on to Katja. When she gets home she tries to call her dad who is unreachable on his hell mission. She leaves him a message saying that he should call her back when he can and she knows what she wants for her graduation present now. She wants her party to not break up. This breaks Brennan and me.

She then snoops arounds for info on TK. She sees letters of her dad trying to get her into Hudol. And she sees some stuff from the Ministry of Adventure, asking if he knew where TK was. But she doesn’t get anything else. At least, she doesn’t get anything else that’s helpful. She does however find a picture of her mom which makes her bolt to go talk to Cinnamon who prances for her to make her feel better. She joins in dancing, badly.

EDIT: I initially wrote that Katja’s mom was dead because that’s what I thought she said but @ennn said that in the Adventuring Party, Rekha said that her mom didn’t die, she left. Which is less dramatic in some ways but SO MUCH WORSE for abandonment issues so, yikes girl!

Yelle meanwhile goes home to talk to her unofficial third mom, Holly, who is the awakened tree under which her house is. Picture a Grandmother Willow situation from Pocahantas basically. Yelle talks about the conflict a bit and, as usual, ends up on a tangent about how the world is unfair and she has to speak for the voiceless. Holly is concerned for her (as are her other moms which I may have neglected to mention in the last recap). She asks Yelle if she can tell her something that might be painful. Yelle agrees. Holly says that Yelle is great and wonderful and kind but she spends so much time speaking for other people that she never speaks for herself. Her moms worry that there will come a day when she needs help and will have to ask for it without couching it in terms of the greater good and she won’t be able to.

Yelle really hopes she’s high when the time comes.

At her home, Ostentatia casts Commune With The City to see if TK has been around and she’s not there now but she can tell she has been (though there’s no indication on if that’s recently or not). On a 17 religion check she knows that there is a dwarven holy site in the mountains that matches Sam’s description from the mirror. She’s still avoiding her dad but when she prays for her spells, she asks for her dad to feel like himself again too.

Hey, what time is it? Let me check my watch.

Ah yes, it’s time for Sam to make some rash decisions.

She feels like she should text Zelda but doesn’t. Instead, she goes into Penelope’s room. And she takes out her mirror. And even though she’s expended the charge for today, she tries to make it show her Penelope.

OK, says Brennan. Sure. Hey, can you roll me a quick little Wisdom Save?

Haha, Sam’s in danger.

The mirror heats up as it’s pushed beyond its limits and Sam sees an image of a young Penelope with braces grabbing her hands and grinning and saying that they’ll be best friends. Then, the image shifts and she sees the Penelope of the present in her tattered prom queen dress and glass shard crown. Her eyeless, haunting, demon prom queen form, teeth razor sharp as her words.

“A call without a text,” she says. “Are you out of your mind?”

“You look better than you ever did alive,” Sam spits back.

It is a battle of the bitches right out of the gate. The girls are fighting part two if you will. They snipe at each other for a bit and Brennan has Sam roll insight into herself. On a 19, Sephie says that’s not enough for Sam to get a read on herself (yikes girl) so she doesn’t understand that this fight can only ruin her because while Penelope enjoys causing people pain, Sam doesn’t.

They both get in some very choice barbs but when Penelope tries to entice her into making a devilish pact and disparages her new party, Sam does the mic drop of the century by telling her that her parents are divorcing and hanging up. The entire table LOSES THEIR MIND. It is like a real life representation of one of those Draw The Squad memes. Everyone brandishes their fans in a salute to that truly epic conversation ender.

As the night draws to a close, Brennan asks the girls who haven’t responded to the text chain yet if they respond. Katja texts that she’s in. Zelda texts Antiope and Penny that she’s not going to text whether she’s in or out until they respond because she doesn’t want it to feel like a 5 on 2 dogpile.

Antiope and Penny call then text, then call, then text, then call each other to discuss what they should do and also hype each other up because with all the drama, they didn’t really get to celebrate their opportunities. Penny tries to downplay her thing and insinuates that it wouldn’t be a big loss if she wasn’t in the group anymore and Antiope shuts that down immediately. You’re the last thing so many people see before they die Penny! That’s so cool!

They both decide to text that they’re abstaining from voting for now and go to bed.

The next day, Antiope gets up and sees that her party’s schedule has been cleared for the next two weeks by the school for quest reasons. She tells her dad she wants to talk to Charity Blythe (the woman at the Ministry of Adventure she needs to talk do) and he sets up a no pressure (but actually tons of pressure) meeting with her before turning her 5 mile run into a 12 mile run because she is a Jones and 5 mile runs are for Amateurs.

Ant texts the rest of the Maidens that this meeting is happening so they can maybe get some quest info from Charity and Ostentatia has in the meantime texted (after the 2 abstains) that she will be going for the GED regardless and anyone who wants to join can. Of course, there was never any reason to NOT go for it (besides the danger which they obv don’t care about) and getting it doesn’t mean any doors are closed to them. It’s just that emotions are running so high they can’t fully seem to see that (or at least some members can’t).

Ant doesn’t have the clearance to meet at Charity’s office so they meet at the Museum of Adventuring instead. In it happens to be the skeleton of Kalvaxus who they killed (if you don’t remember, the Bad Kids killed him first and then he was resurrected so the Maidens could also kill him for catharsis reasons). Tensions are still super high as evidenced by Sam’s snide abstention comment to Penny and Ant and then by her TRYING TO LIGHTNING BOLT THE DRAGON SKELETON TO DESTROY IT.

GIRL.

That doesn't happen though because she’s Counterspelled by Charity Blythe who walks in, surprised to see that Antiope brought her whole party. Antiope says they were just leaving but Charity can sense shenanigans when she sees them and says if they’re gonna spy on the conversation they might as well stay for it which they of course do.

She gives Antiope a rundown of the internship: 1 year commitment with a possibility to expand to 2-3 years. Stipend. She’d have to live in Bastion City.

Katja remembers that her dad was talking to the Ministry of Adventure in the letters she found and asks Charity about it. Charity says they were asking him about TK’s whereabouts because he was friends with her. On that, Yelle casts Detect Thoughts with a Stealth roll of 17 (we see on a secret Box of Doom roll that Charity got a 26 to see her cast it). Anyway, she sees that TK took some object with her when she disappeared (which she later sees is a crystal screen with a map seemingly marking quest locations from A-F) and of course the fact that Charity knows this. Yelle shares this info with everyone as Antiope walks off with Charity to talk further. Katja suggests to the group that maybe Ant should take the internship to get more info for their quest. While she’s talking to Charity, Ant feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

See looks up and sees a figure with blood red lips look at her and disappear.

Yikes! Combat time baybee!

Superlatives

Danielle: Most Likely to Talk Her Way Out of a Hostage Situation

While, like her mothers, I am slightly concerned that Danielle is the type to set fire to herself to make sure others are warm, I also very much love her chill, warm, encouraging vibes. For those of you coming off of MisMag, she is like vibing at the same wavelength as Whitney Jammer but with the intensity turned all the way down. Danielle encouraging Sam honestly gave me like second hand calm. Excellent vibes.

Random Thoughts

If you’re wondering how long it took for it to come up that Aguefort banged a phoenix, the answer is 12 minutes.

The concept of phoenix chlamydia is the definition of thanks, I hate it.

Aguefort saying that TK is a crazy person could literally mean anything tbh. It could mean she is the most batshit person on the planet or it could mean she’s totally normal and just kinda bugs him. Literally no way to tell.

Someone (I think Rekha?) mentioned that the cursed bylaws book is copper and so is TK. Idk if that’s relevant but thought I’d flag it anyway.

We learn in this episode that the friendship bracelets Penny made them last week let them track each other and see each other even if one of the in knocked out (which is what gives it utility outside of what their crystals can already do).

We learn in this episode that Skullcleaver Elementary School is actually named after Katja’s family.

Nothing like the fear you feel when a DM gives you what you wanted even on a failure. And on that note...

Sam, I wish you a very happy Please Go To Therapy. Please girl.

This episode was such an emotional roller coaster. I deeply empathize with the horrible feeling that your friends have stuff going on and you don’t and you’re going to be left behind. It’s so rough to see everyone hurting and lashing out (or in the case of Yelle for instance, trying and failing to diffuse the situation). But it’s so nice to see everyone trying to be there for each other and apologizing and affirming that they love each other (from Antiope saying that she would kill and die for any of them to Danielle defusing the ticking timebomb that is Sam). The players really get the cadence of how teenage girl friendship works and it’s such a treat to watch.

“Did we ruin your life?”

Do you think ep 7 of The Seven is gonna be when everything pops off? As a DM I wouldn’t be able to resist that.

Penny’s response to being told that she can’t take every path is, “You can with chronomancy” which isn’t a bad point.

Rekha is the Zac of The Seven which is to say low key the funniest person on the planet. Her saying she was so scared that she wasn’t gonna be told “I love you” during that scene was so funny. Her comic timing is impeccable.

Katja fainting at the end of the “I love you” session after Penny says she loves her and Cinnamon.

I love the table ambient whisper of, “LCAB” under Antiope’s scene with Corsica.

I really felt for Zelda in this episode. Like, I felt for everyone but especially her, being the quiet one with all this yelling happening. When she was talking about how much she hates to have to fight with Sam/O my heart really broke for her. I’m so glad she got all her hugs in after that.

In this episode Katja, Ostentatia, and Sam roll nat 1s. No nat 20s.

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #fantasy high #the seven #the seven spoilers

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merlinsbed · 3 years

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was losing my mind today from a combination of sleep deprivation, anxiety, and five different ideas all competing at the exact same time for my attention so I picked one and spent a few hours writing it out.

basically, prince lan wangji falls in love with concubine wei wuxian in nightless city. a/b/o verse mostly because it was a very convenient excuse for wwx being wen ruohan's concubine. about 5.8k in length.

When he arrives in Qishan Lan Wangji can see why people consider the Imperial Palace to be intimidating. The sharp, cutting angles combined with the black and red color scheme, not to mention the sheer mass of the place. It's a city in its own right. Lan Wangji takes it all in with the same blank expression he keeps carefully in place anytime he's somewhere public. The personal guard his brother sent with him shifts nervously where they stand.

Second Prince Wen Chao is sent to greet him. He manages to make Lan Wangji's own royal title sound like an insult and the Gusu Lan guards bristle. Lan Wangji has to remind himself of exactly what's at stake if he offends a member of the Wen royal family and just barely manages an appropriate bow.

The guest quarters set aside for him aren't bad. They smell... not exactly bad and even if they did Lan Wangji is well disciplined enough to ignore it, but it's not exactly pleasant either. The source is an incense burner left out in the bedroom. Lan Wangji stares at it for a long moment, frowning. Then he dumps the old incense and brings out some of his own. Sandalwood, like his own natural scent. Within minutes the smell starts to permeate the room and some of the tension fades from Lan Wangji's shoulders. He doesn't want to be here, but the Wens had... not demanded it, but implied that they were prepared to if the King of Gusu denied their request. They wouldn't say outright that they're taking hostages, but it's the only reason they would suddenly demand that the heirs of the major provinces must be sent to Qishan. For their education, ostensibly. To learn about appropriate leadership or something. Really, it's just a show of power. It's the Wens showing that they can do whatever they want, whenever they want, including take the heirs of the provinces.

Lan Wangji steps out onto the porch and takes in the courtyard of the guest quarters. He's sharing the compound with the other province heirs from Qinghe, Yunmeng, and Lanling. Guards from each province are scattered in front of their respective dwellings. Lan Wangji has been on his fair share of diplomatic visits, usually to assist his brother rather than represent him. Qishan is, by far, the most depressing. The palace of Cloud Recesses rests high in the mountains of Gusu and is surrounded by lush forests, flowing rivers, and mountain meadows. By comparison, Qishan is browns and greys painted across severe cliffsides. Even the palace gardens are far more barren than Lan Wangji is used to. He turns to go back inside when movement catches his eye.

A young man enters the courtyard of the guest quarters and pauses, hesitating just inside the threshold as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He's dressed in delicate reds and blacks, hair held away from his face by an ostentatious golden ornament. A light breeze carries his scent across the courtyard, something light and floral that tickles at Lan Wangji's memories. He thinks of loud, carefree laughter carrying through the library window accompanied by the flick of long dark hair over a shoulder clad in white guest robes during the lecture his uncle hosts every few years for children of noble families. He blinks and frowns. The young man- an omega, based on his scent- takes a halting step forward. Then he seems to release a great breath and frowns at the ground. His eyes keep darting towards the Yunmeng quarters where Prince Jiang Wanyin is staying. Interesting. Lan Wangji searches his memory, but the lecture feels like a lifetime ago. So much has happened in the five years since then.

Lan Wangji is so caught up in his thoughts it takes him a moment to realize that the omega is now staring at him. Their eyes meet and Lan Wangji sucks in a sharp breath. There's something distinctly sad about the omega's entire being. He's unhappy here, Lan Wangji thinks, but who isn't? The omega's chin tilts up slightly, scenting the air and his breath seems to catch in his throat. Then a Wen guard storms in and ushers him along. Lan Wangji stands on the porch of his new residence until long after the omega is gone from his sight.

It takes several days to find out the identity of the omega. Gossip is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses, but his brother had also told him to do what he has to to survive here. This probably isn't quite what Lan Xichen had in mind, but who's to say Lan Wangji won't suffer greatly for not knowing the young omega's name.

He is called Wei Wuxian.

He was given to Emperor Wen Ruohan as a concubine for his harem four years ago.

"The Wens demanded tribute," the head of his personal guard reports. "the Jiangs refused to hand over their daughter, so they gave Wen Ruohan their ward."

Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji remembers him. Cloud Recesses has only very recently begun to desegregate alphas, betas, and omegas. Back then, Wei Wuxian had spent most of his time with his adopted older sister in the quarters for omegas, but that hadn't stopped Lan Wangji from catching sight of him. All too often that lotus blossom scent would drift to him on the wind, accompanied by Wei Wuxian's unrestrained laughter. It had grated on Lan Wangji at first. Until the day he'd gone to his rabbits and found the clearing already occupied. Wei Wuxian had sat in the grass, the skirts of his guest robes spread haphazardly around him, giggling as the rabbits cautiously approached him, sniffing at his fingers. Lan Wangji had stood for too long on the edge of the clearing, Wei Wuxian's intoxicating scent swirling around him, laughter dancing in his ears, and that sweet smile seared forever into his memory. It's a far cry from the sadness Wei Wuxian carries himself with now. No wonder Lan Wangji hadn't recognized him at first.

There's a feast commemorating something Lan Wangji doesn't care to remember two weeks after their arrival in Qishan. It's the first time he manages to get a glimpse of Wei Wuxian since that first day when he'd come to the guest quarters. Wen Ruohan's wife passed away eight years ago, so he often has his favorite concubine sit beside him at feasts. She's a sultry looking omega who flutters her eyelashes at the emperor and giggles flirtatiously all through the meal. Lan Wangji's eyes slide right past him and instead land on Wei Wuxian where he stands stiff backed and obedient just behind Wen Ruohan's shoulder, there to serve food and drinks for the emperor, apparently. All through the feast he diligently assures that the emperor's cup remains filled and that the best dishes are always within reach. He looks miserable. Lan Wangji wants to sweep him away from here, take him back to Gusu, back to the clearing with rabbits where Wei Wuxian had smiled so sweetly.

He doesn't realize he's staring until their eyes lock. After a moment, a ghost of a smile hesitantly touches Wei Wuxian's lips. Lan Wangji's heart pounds in his chest. Even the ghost of Wei Wuxian's beauty is enough to leave him breathless. For a moment, the rest of the room falls away. Then Wei Wuxian's eyes shift and the smile disappears. Lan Wangji follows his gaze to Jiang Wanyin. Wei Wuxian had never been officially adopted by the Jiang family, but Jiang Fengmian had raised him alongside his own children anyway, much to his wife's chagrin. Lan Wangji wonders what it's like for Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin to see each other now.

The banquet drags on. Lan Wangji is used to a strict schedule of sleeping at nine and waking at five. He can tell by how exhausted he is that nine has come and gone, but Wen Ruohan does not permit anyone to leave a feast before he does. Nie Huaisang, sitting to Lan Wangji's left, reaches over and flicks him every time his eyes start to droop. It's annoying, but for the best. Lan Wangji does not want the embarrassment of falling asleep on the remnants of his meal at a feast in Qishan. The less the Wens have to attack him with the better. He'll have to thank Huaisang later for this. They're not friends, really, but close enough, thanks to forced proximity. As princes their older brothers were close friends and they remain so even after ascending to their respective thrones.

When Wen Ruohan finally leaves, Lan Wangji lets out the barest hint of a relieved sigh. He waits until a few minutes after the emperor has exited the room before getting up and leaving as well. Outside, he pauses and takes in a deep breath of cold, night air. It wakes him up a bit and that's how he becomes aware of the crying. Frowning, he follows it to a small alcove tucked out of the way and shaded by a tree in the process of losing its leaves. Wei Wuxian stands there, arms wrapped around himself, shoulders hitching with sobs he's desperately trying to quiet. A stick cracks under Lan Wangji's boot. Wei Wuxian's head whips up.

"Your highness," he says quickly, bowing, tears still trailing down his cheeks.

"Wei-gongzi, are you alright?" Lan Wangji asks. The head of his guard had mentioned that Wen Ruohan is possessive of his harem. He loves to show them off, but no one is allowed to touch. Last year he caught one of his concubines having an affair with a foreign dignitary from a small clan. Both had been executed. He should turn around and leave before someone sees them, but Wei Wuxian's eyes go wide.

"I didn't think you remembered me," Wei Wuxian says. His smile is watery and sad. "The few times we talked I just seemed to annoy you."

"That was a long time ago," Lan Wangji says. He wants to explain that it hadn't been because he couldn't stand Wei Wuxian, but because he didn't know what to do about the odd, uncomfortable feeling in his chest every time he caught Wei Wuxian's scent or saw the flick of his red ribbon or heard his laughter. Instead, he asks again, "Are you alright?"

Wei Wuxian wipes at his tears and his laugh is anything but joyous. "It's just- a lot," he says. "I thought it would be nice seeing Jiang Cheng again, but it just reminds me that I..." That he's stuck here. That he can't go home. Before he realizes what he's doing, Lan Wangji raises a hand. Wei Wuxian's breath hitches. Lan Wangji freezes. For a long moment his hand remains there, hovering in the space between them. Then Lan Wangji drops it to his side.

"You look like you need to go rest," Wei Wuxian says, dropping his eyes. It's so uncharacterists that Lan Wangji doesn't know what to do. The Wei Wuxian that wreaked havoc on Cloud Recesses was anything but demure and polite. Before he can figure it out, Wei Wuxian bows and whirls around, disappearing into the night.

They fall into it slowly. Lan Wangji tries not to. He is well aware of the consequences if Wen Ruohan catches wind of him anywhere near one of his concubines, but even back in Cloud Recesses he'd been unable to help but be drawn to Wei Wuxian. They go from sideways glances to little stolen snatches of conversation in unobserved corners to his guard pointedly turning a blind eye to Wei Wuxian climbing through his window as the sky darkens, looking more alive than Lan Wangji has seen him so far in Qishan.

It's been six months since Lan Wangji and the other heirs arrived, but it hasn't been nearly as miserable as he anticipated. They're expected to attend lessons several days a week which mostly consists of reciting various sayings from past members of the Wen clan and listening to second Prince Wen Chao tell them how stupid and worthless they are. But at the end of the day now comes the possibility of Wei Wuxian crawling in through his window. It doesn't happen every night. Wei Wuxian is far from being Wen Ruohan's favorite concubine.

"He likes to look at me," Wei Wuxian had said one night, head pillowed on Lan Wangji's thigh as Lan Wangji absently plucked out melodies on his qin. "But he rarely actually takes me to bed."

Tonight, as the melody of a song Lan Wangji started writing five years ago fades into the darkening evening, Wei Wuxian crawls into his lap, arms wrapped loosely around Lan Wangji's neck, their noses almost touching. His sweet lotus blossom scent permeates the air, mixing with Lan Wangji's sandalwood. They twine together in a beautiful harmony. Lan Wangji doesn't know who moves first, but the touch of Wei Wuxian's lips to his own is everything he's been imagining and more. The layers of silk slide easily from his shoulders and Lan Wangji splays his hands against the bare skin of Wei Wuxian's back, swallowing his gasp in yet another kiss. From there, it seems only natural to carry Wei Wuxian to his bed, lay him down on the soft sheets, and crawl between his legs. Lan Wangji has read books, but none of them prepared him for what it's actually like.

He doesn't fall asleep with Wei Wuxian wrapped in his arms because someone would notice that Wei Wuxian is missing from his room in the morning. Instead, he wipes the evidence of their activities carefully from Wei Wuxian's skin, helps him dress, then watches him climb back out the window. Wei Wuxian pauses.

"You can call me Wei Ying," he says, almost shy. Lan Wangji swallows, mouth suddenly dry. Wei Wuxian- no, Wei Ying is giving him permission to call him by his birth name.

"You may do the same," Lan Wangji says. A warm smile spreads slow and beautiful across Wei Ying's face.

"Okay." He leans in through the window and kisses Lan Wangji on the cheek. "Goodnight, Lan Zhan." And then he's gone. Lan Wangji stands there for several long minutes before closing the window, smiling to himself.

His brother would be horrified if he knew about the affair. Not because premarital sex goes against their clan's rules. Lan Wangji happens to know his brother would be a hypocrite in that case. No, he would be horrified that Lan Wangji is behaving so recklessly. Every day he tells himself he'll stop and every evening he leaves the window unlocked for Wei Ying to sneak through. It's stupid. Wen Ruohan will kill them both if he finds out. Lan Wangji keeps doing it anyway.

The thing is, it's not just his life at stake if things go wrong. Lan Wangji knows that if Wen Ruohan were to discover the affair and send his men, his own Gusu Lan guards would fight every soldier in Qishan to protect him. There's no way they would survive that. And no doubt his actions would have consequences back home in Gusu as well. It's selfish and stupid and a million other things that Lan Wangji has been raised not to be.

And yet, when Wen Ruohan leaves Qishan right as Wei Ying is about to go into heat, Lan Wangji still sneaks through Nightless City to Wei Ying's room and stays there through the whole weekend. He leaves only because he is expected at Wen Chao's ridiculous indoctrination lessons the next day. Wei Ying pouts at him, his heat temporarily soothed.

"There's still two more days of my heat left," he complains. He flutters his eyelashes at Lan Wangji. "Er-gege, won't you stay and take care of your Wei Ying?" Lan Wangji looks at him, sprawled naked on his bed, hair splayed across the deep red fabric of the sheets. It sends a stab of want through Lan Wangji and it takes all his willpower not to strip back down himself and rejoin Wei Ying in bed. He reminds himself he would have to scrub Wei Ying's heat laden scent from his body all over again, lest someone smell it on him and report the incident to Wen Ruohan when he returns.

"I will return to you tonight," Lan Wangji promise. He shouldn't. But as he looks at Wei Ying's mollified expression he knows he will. He's already cutting it close staying until morning, but when he tried to leave the bed last night Wei Ying had whined and clung to him and he hadn't had the heart to leave him. This is one advantage at least to waking up early. There's still time for him to get back to his room before it gets too light out. He doesn't kiss Wei Ying goodbye because he knows he won't leave if he does.

Two days later, on the final night of Wei Ying's heat, they lie pressed together, sweaty and heaving. Wei Ying is sprawled across him, the two of them still tied together. Lan Wangji closes his eyes, his arms tightening around Wei Ying. He fights the urge to dip into the crook of Wei Ying's neck and sink his teeth into soft, smooth skin. He wants so badly to mark Wei Ying, to claim him as his own, but it would only get them both killed.

He feels Wei Ying's nose brush against the skin of his neck, lightly scenting him. It's followed by little kitten licks, then soft nips. Lan Wangji shivers. He thinks about the high collars of his robes. If it's a little towards his shoulder, no one would ever know. His hand comes up and tangles loosely in Wei Ying's hair, gently guiding his mouth to the right spot. Wei Ying stills.

"Lan Zhan?" His lips brush against Lan Wangji's skin as he says his name.

"You can, if you want to," Lan Wangji says. Wei Ying pulls back far enough to blink down at him, eyes wide. His skin is flushed pink with the fever of his heat and there's a haze to his eyes, but there's also wonder and perhaps a spark of hope.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says again, so soft and fond. "Lan Zhan I can't." He sounds so pained. Lan Wangji hates it. Wei Ying should never sound like that. He strokes his fingers soothingly over Wei Ying's cheek.

"Yes you can," he says.

Wei Ying shakes his head, even as he leans in to Lan Wangji's touch. "You're not mine to claim," he whispers. "What if you meet someone else? Someone better?" Lan Wangji recoils from the very thought there could be anyone better than Wei Ying. Wei Ying is perfect and beautiful.

"For me, there is only you," Lan Wangji says. He guides Wei Ying's head back down to his shoulder. "There will only ever be you, Wei Ying." Wei Ying's breath shudders across his skin. Then he bites and Lan Wangji gasps.

Lan Wangji leaves Wei Ying's room late that night, the new claim bite hidden beneath his pristine robes.

A month later, a banquet is held to celebrate the end of the indoctrination. It's been a year since the heirs of the noble families were sent to Qishan to be educated. Lan Wangji should be happy that it's almost over. And part of him is. He can't keep the smile from his face when he goes to greet his brother in his own guest rooms. He's never gone so long before without seeing his older brother. If not for Wei Ying, his time in Qishan would have been so much more miserable.

"Wangji," Lan Xichen greets warmly. Lan Wangji isn't the sort that often seeks physical comfort from others (Wei Ying excepted, of course), but when Lan Xichen opens his arms in invitation Lan Wangji takes it. It feels good to be folded in his brother's embrace.

"I hope you've been well," Lan Xichen says when they pull apart and sit to share tea.

"I have sent letters," Lan Wangji points out. Not overly detailed letters, but he was always sure to let his brother know that though he missed home he was doing alright.

"Yes, but it isn't the same as seeing you with my own eyes, didi," Lan Xichen says. They chat and it's so nice and familiar that Lan Wangji can almost forget they're still in Qishan.

The banquet is much more bearable with his brother and the other rulers there. No one pays as much attention to one prince in a room full of kings. It's good because Wen Ruohan is having Wei Ying serve him again tonight. Lan Wangji steals more glances at him than he should, eyes lingering on the peak of Wei Ying's wrist when he holds his sleeve out of the way to pour Wen Ruohan more wine. His gaze keeps being drawn to Wei Ying's smooth, unblemished neck. Someday, he will figure out how to take Wei Ying away from here so that he can claim him the way Wei Ying has already claimed him. They will belong to each other.

That night, he isn't surprised when Wei Ying doesn't come to his room, not with so many guests about. He is surprised when his brother shows up at his door though.

"Xiongzhang," Lan Wangji says, surprised. Lan Xichen's smile is strained.

"Wangji, may I come in? There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

Not exactly reassuring, but Lan Wangji has never had reason to fear his brother, so he steps aside and shows him to a table where Lan Xichen sits in silence as Lan Wangji prepares tea. Lan Xichen takes a long, measured sip before he speaks.

"I had heard that when the Jiang family of Yunmeng was forced to give Wen Ruohan a concubine in tribute, they sent their ward, Wei Wuxian," his brother says. Lan Wangji doesn't wince, but it's a near thing. "I remember when he came for the lecture with the prince and princess of Yunmeng." Lan Xichen gives him a knowing look. "And I remember how taken you were with him." Lan Wangji can feel his ears burning. Sometimes he hates how well his brother knows him.

"That was a long time ago," he says, for lack of anything else. He can't lie very well in the first place, but he especially can't lie to his brother.

"I see some things haven't changed," Lan Xichen says, tone soft and regretful. "Wangji, I won't ask you to confirm what I suspect. I saw enough from how you two looked at each other all evening." Lan Xichen takes another sip of his tea. "Wen Ruohan has heavily hinted that extending your stay here would curry great favor with him. He's made the same offer to the other provinces. I was already hesitant to accept it, but considering tonight, it's only reaffirmed my decision that bringing you back to Gusu is the right thing to do." The spark of hope that ignited at the thought that he could have a bit more time in Qishan, more time to figure out how to make sure that when he leaves Wei Ying can leave with him, shatters.

"Xiongzhang," he says, unable to keep the pained pleading from his voice. Lan Xichen closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, Lan Wangji recognizes the firm resolve in them.

"Wangji, there's more at stake here than you realize," Lan Xichen says carefully. "I want you back home, safe." Lan Wangji stares at his brother for a long moment, trying to parse out his words. He doesn't ask for clarification, not here in Qishan surrounded by enemies. He knows his brother has been planning something with Qinghe and Lanling and Yunmeng for a while now, slowly and carefully so as not to draw Wen Ruohan's attention, but the details have been kept even from him. He trusts his brother though.

"Okay," Lan Wangji says, even as cracks form in his heart.

Three days later when they leave, he doesn't get the chance to say goodbye to Wei Ying.

It's probably a good thing.

Probably.

(Lan Zhan pointedly ignores the sorrowful looks Lan Xichen keeps giving him as they ride away from Qishan. He will be strong for his people, for his brother.)

War is what his brother and the other kings have been planning. War against the tyranny of the Wen Empire of Qishan. It's a year and a half of bloody, brutal battles. Lan Wangji acts as one of his brother's generals, leading their soldiers into battles against the Wens' forces. He thinks often of Wei Ying, too often probably. He's acutely aware of the claim bite on his neck and wonders if Wei Ying is thinking of him too.

When the final assault on Nightless City comes, Lan Wangji is resting back in Gusu. His forces had found themselves facing unexpected reinforcements in their last battle. They came out victorious, but only just. Casualties were numerous and those who survived suffered many injuries, including Lan Wangji himself. He's just starting to get back into his normal training regiment when news arrives that Nie Mingjue is leading the assault on Nightless City with the intent of wiping out every last member of Wen Ruohan's clan. Lan Wangji thinks of Wei Ying trapped in the palace, thinks of him getting caught in the crossfire.

He rides hard for Qishan. By the time Nightless City comes into view there's smoke rising into the sky and the air is filled with screams. He makes for a narrow valley where Wei Ying once told him of a secret passage intended for escape. He doesn't know where it is or how to open it, but it's this or try and ride through the chaos of the battle taking place in the city. He won't be much use to Wei Ying if he gets himself killed in crossfire.

As he crests the top of the valley, Lan Wangji looks down and sees two figures already making their way away from Nightless City, dressed in black and red. Lan Wangji recognizes Wei Ying immediately, would know him even if he were blind. The other figure is familiar to him as well, one of the only friends Wei Ying has managed to make in Nightless City. Wen Qionglin is the younger brother of one of Qishan's best doctors, Wen Qing, a soft spoken young man with a talent for archery. He carries a sword now, looking nervously around as he escorts Wei Ying away from the danger. Lan Wangji is just starting to relax when he catches movement from the corner of his eye across the narrow valley. His eyes find golden robed soldiers. If he were closer, Lan Wangji knows he would see the sparks-amidst-snow peony of the Jin clan. There are two archers, each with an arrow already knocked. Lan wangji doesn't think. He pulls his own bow from his back, fits an arrow to it, and takes down the first archer. Before the second one has time to react, he's dead as well. Lan Wangji looks down into the valley and sees Wei Ying looking back at him. Quickly, he leads his horse down and leaps from the saddle, ignoring the twinge of pain in his recently healed leg.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying breathes. He looks awful, pale and tired and shaking.

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji says. He steps closer and that's when he realizes that Wei Ying is holding a child. A baby not yet a year old. His breath hitches. "Wei Ying..." Wei Ying's smile is exhausted, but just as soft and beautiful as Lan Wangji remembers.

"Lan Zhan, I knew you'd come for us," Wei Ying says and Lan Wangji knows that he isn't talking about Wen Qionglin, who watches them cautiously, grip tight on his sword. Wei Ying puts a hand on his friend's arm. "It's alright, Wen Ning. Lan Zhan will keep me safe." Wen Qionglin observes Lan Wangji for a long moment, then nods to himself. He turns and bows to Wei Ying.

"Then I'll leave you in his care, Wei-gongzi," Wen Qionglin says. Wei Ying frowns, receiving a smile in return. "I have to go back for my sister." Wei ying sighs.

"I know." Wei Ying briefly places his hand on Wen Qionglin's cheek. "Be careful."

"I'll do my best." Wen Qionglin bows to Lan Wangji, then turns back to the city. Wei Ying watches him go, expression filled with grief.

"I don't know what I would have done all these years without Wen Qing and Wen Ning," he says softly. "They looked out for me, almost treated me like their brother." Lan Wangji wrap an arm around him and finds his gaze transfixed on the child in Wei Ying's arms, blinking sleepily up at him with familiar eyes. He reminds himself that there's still a war being fought in Nightless City. There could be more Jin soldiers around or others that wouldn't think twice about killing Wei Ying and the child. Anything to ensure Wen Ruohan's entire family ends here.

"Let's go," Lan Wangji says and guides Wei Ying over to his horse.

As it turns out, the invading forces of the other provinces hadn't been the greatest danger to Wei Ying. That had been Wen Ruohan himself. When it became clear that the battle was not in his favor, Wen Ruohan gathered his concubines together. They thought they were being taken somewhere safe, somewhere they would be protected until the battle was over.

Then the guards lining the edges of the room drew their swords and Wei Ying knew they weren’t meant to walk out of that room. Wen Ruohan was possessive of his concubines. If he couldn’t have them, no one could. Wei Ying isn’t sure how he managed to escape. Chaos had erupted in screams and blood as Wen Ruohan sat imperiously in the center of the room and watched his personal guard kill without mercy. Somehow, the door to the inner sanctum of the palace was unlocked. Wei Ying suspects Wen Qionglin knew of Wen Ruohan’s plan. He had been nearby when Wei Ying stumbled out of the room, clutching his screaming child to his chest.

Wei Ying tells Lan Wangji all of this in Gusu, in the safety of Lan Wangji’s private residence, the Jingshi. He’s dressed in borrowed white and blue robes from Lan Wangji’s own wardrobe. They’re of a similar height, but Lan Wangji is broader, his robes slipping slightly down Wei Ying’s shoulder. Lan Wangji fixes it and Wei Ying hums an absent thank you, attention focused on the baby.

“What is his name?” Lan Wangji asks. He hasn’t had time to. He’s been focused on getting Wei Ying back to Gusu and keeping him and the child safe. Wei Ying looks up at him.

“A-Yuan,” he says. “Our son’s name is A-Yuan.” Lan Wangji’s breath leaves him in a shaky exhale. Their son. He had known. He’d known the moment he’d looked down at A-Yuan and seen the shape of his own eyes looking back at him. “Here.” Gently, Wei Ying shifts A-Yuan into Lan Wangji’s arms. Lan Wangji holds his son reverently.

“Our son,” he whispers. Then he frowns at Wei Ying. “How…” Wei Ying hears the question he’s not asking.

“I told you, Wen Ruohan liked to look at me, but otherwise he never paid me much attention,” Wei Ying says. “He heard I was in heat while he was gone and thought I still was when he came back. Wen Qing knew you were with me during my heat, so just to be safe she gave me an herbal tea that mimicked heat symptoms. When I realized I was pregnant, he just assumed it must be his.” Lan Wangji’s shoulder slump, just the slightest bit, in relief. If Wen Ruohan paid a little more attention, perhaps he might have realized that something was off.

“You’re safe now,” Lan Wangji says not for the first time. He’s been saying it the entire journey back to Gusu. “You and A-Yuan. I will make sure of it.” Wei Ying smiles, stepping closer to rest his head on Lan Wangji’s shoulder.

They marry in spring, trees and flowers blooming all across cloud recesses. Jiang Wanyin, newly ascended to the throne after his father’s death in the war, grumbles about it.

“Don’t take it to heart,” Wei Ying says cheerfully as he cleans paint from A-Yuan’s chubby little hands. He's taken an interest in painting lately that Wei Ying enthusiastically encourages. “I’m pretty sure if Jiang Cheng doesn’t have something to complain about he’ll die.”

“Would you prefer to marry at Lotus Pier?” Lan Wangji asks. He’s asked this before. Wei Ying laughs.

“Lan Zhan, the wedding is tomorrow,” he says. “We are not moving it to Lotus Pier. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I’m perfectly happy to get married in Cloud Recesses.” He checks A-Yuan’s hands for any lingering paint, then rises and comes to wrap his arms around Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji buries his nose in Wei Ying’s neck, nosing along the unblemished skin there. Now that Wei Ying is no longer trapped in Qishan, he could sink his teeth in and leave a claim bite there. Wei Ying goes still in his arms. Lan Wangji presses a kiss to the spot he wants to bite and lifts his head. He doesn’t blame Wei Ying for being hesitant to complete the bond. He spent nearly six year as a prisoner in Qishan. Lan Wangji will be patient and wait as long as needed.

His uncle had been horrified when Lan Wangji had finally admitted to his year-long affair in Qishan with Wei Ying and the child he had fathered outside of marriage. The only thing that had saved them from his uncle’s wrath was the claim bite on Lan Wangji’s neck. It’s enough- barely- to legitimize both their relationship and their son, but Lan Qiren had made it clear that marriage better be in their future.

Lan Xichen had been easier. After all, he already saw with his own eyes the connection Wei Ying and Lan Wangji share. He was delighted to be introduced to his nephew and took immediately to being an uncle.

Lan Wangji searches Wei Ying’s expression carefully. “You would tell me if you are unhappy?” he asks, far more tentative than he would like. Lan Wangji doesn’t normally do tentative. Wei Ying smiles, full of love. Lan Wangji feels a tug on his robes and looks down to see A-Yuan frowning up at them, arms extended in a silent request to be picked up. Lan Wangji doesn’t even hesitate to indulge him. Wei Ying leans in to press a kiss to the crown of their son’s head, then looks at lan Wangji, eyes sparkling with joy.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, “I have never been happier.”

#the untamed #mdzs #wangxian #my fic #behold my latest brain child #I might flesh this out more today

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mangobubbletea7 · 3 years

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Thoughts on ways that the current server might move to a new server:

1. A new story with different characters/plots

Pros:

-Gives them a chance to wrap up the current smp to a satisfying ending. This would be sad, but more satisfying.

-It would give the CCs a chance to try out new character traits and plots that they maybe couldn’t do in the current story

Cons:

-Most server members basically play themselves, or the version of themselves that they’re most comfortable playing, they might feel pressure to change the character they play which would suck because it seems like they are all very satisfied with their characters in the story. It could be weird having one CC who’s basically playing the same character interact with another CC who’s trying something new and different.

-It could be weird to wrap up everyone’s plots within a short period of time, may be awkward.

-Some members haven’t gotten as long as others to develop their stories so if it moved in let’s say August, it would be different for c!Tommyinnit who had been on the server for over a year than it would be for c!Michael mcchill who would be getting like 1.5-2 months.

-It would be very sad to leave the story we’ve known and loved in the past. Even if we would be getting a new incarnation.

2. They work it into the story in some way

Pros:

-We wouldn’t have to leave the characters we’ve grown to love behind.

-The members can continue acting with their characters without worrying about making them different since most CCs are basically playing themselves.

-It will still give the CCs new things to do and a chance for new plots.

-This would be the perfect chance to add one or two new members.

Cons:

-There has been a lot of development in characters and their relationships, it has already been compared to a soap opera in the past, which is in no way a bad thing, it’s still very well done and entertaining, but a chance to try new plots and character relationships might be backed into a corner for some CCs.

-If the server does end, which it one day will, at least in the incarnation we’re used to (it could be continued with different members or with a new twist) we’d rather it ends in a satisfying way instead of dragging on until it fizzles out because some CCs may eventually want to move on to different things. And that’s okay, it’ll be over a year since a lot of members first joined when the server moves, and one day they might want to shift their focus. I’m not saying it’ll happen when the server moves but it might have trouble with staying power for some members after another year.

3. A new story with the same characters who’ve experienced memory loss

Pros:

-Gives them a chance to wrap up the current smp to a satisfying ending.

-The members can continue acting with their characters without worrying about making them different since most CCs are basically playing themselves.

-Could tie into the memory loss issues in the story, suggests that this could have happened.

-It would give the CCs a chance to try out new character traits and plots that they maybe couldn’t do in the current story (for example: if two characters are supposed to be enemies in the lore with a lot of bad history, they could do a plot together and just forget about the history without having to “fix” it)

-There could be a lot of angst with these characters doing call backs to past lore.

-After a while, they could give CC’s their memories back, so past plots could be continued in some form but with a new twist.

Cons:

-It could be hard to untangle how much of a character’s traits exist because of their experiences and how much are inherent. Lots of character development could be reversed which wouldn’t be as fun.

-CCs wouldn’t be able to continue their plots for a while unless they wanted to like come up with a way to mirror them in the next server.

On NPCs, Items, and Buildings:

I’ve heard before that there was apparently a plan to move buildings to the new server but I’m not totally sure. They could also just get an entirely new world and plop everyone down in it, there are pros and cons to this.

Pros:

-Everyone could start over which could give them more to do on streams. New bases, different people could group up, and new builds.

-The physical server could go out in a blaze of glory. Now let me explain, I want a copy of the server to be stored 100%, but I know a lot of people have been eyeing those nukes as a plot point. We have also had a history of exploding areas to the great amusement of audiences and CCs, even if there is emotional attachment to the area as well. To put it shortly, a lot of people want to see big boom, and I agree. I want a copy saved so people can go back and explore it in the future, but I also think a really good story reason for a server reset to happen is if everything gets destroyed for some reason.

Cons:

-Lots would be lost, they could still log into the older server and look around if they wanted to, but builds with a lot of time put into them and history would be left behind in the story. This would be an especially sad day for the Foolish community. Not to mention things like Sam’s prison or Eret’s museum.

-Items with a lot of sentimental value would be lost. I think a middle ground to this could be that ender chests would “follow the characters” to the new server. Anything they want to keep, they put it in their enderchest, and a replica of the item, ostensibly the real item, would be given to them in the new world. It’s like a fire scenerio, you can only grab 3 things, what would they be? Will they choose functionality and store some netherite gear to get ahead or sentimentality and bring items with history? They’ll have like 30 slots or so to bring their most important items.

-It could be tough if CCs are busy during the weeks after the new server, they might be left behind materials wise while most others will rush to build up their wealth and materials.

-The Pet Problem: Pets are a big deal on the server, are they going to leave them behind? What about any important to lore? If they re-spawn animals for CCs to keep, how would they decide which pets should be “moved” to the new server?

-The npc!Michael problem: npc!Michael is important to lore and is treated like a sentient character, they’d have to re-spawn a baby piglin if npc!Michael were to join the members in the server switch.

#dream smp #dsmp #dsmpblr #mango speaks sometimes

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dgcatanisiri · 5 years

Text

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: Spare me all-or-nothing “progressives” who believe that we need to get everything at once or toss aside anyone proposing a piecemeal plan.

Like, let’s be real about things: As bad as the system in Washington is, and trust me, I get it, it’s worse than it seems, I understand, but it’s still the way the apparatus HAS to function. Because the alternative is tearing it down, and realistically, to minimize chaos - and there WOULD be chaos - you have to have an alternative ready to go. There is no present alternative to our present system, and definitely not one just ready and waiting to be put in its place.

I believe in Medicare for All. That’s enough of a system for literally every other major nation on the planet. I also cannot envision it being set up in the US overnight, so we may well have to ease people into the idea, just like we did with the ACA. Because once you give people an improvement, once they realize that there is that improvement, they will fight like hell to keep it - witness the reaction when the ACA gets threatened.

If we have to have a slowed down advancement, if that’s the alternative to none? Yeah, I’ll take it, no question. And I know it sucks to wait on these - lives WILL be lost in the interim, I’m aware. But... Nine times out of ten, the problem isn’t public support on these matters. It’s dragging the political support out of the career politicians.

Remember Sandy Hook? Over ninety percent of the public said “mandatory background checks.” You never get those numbers of public support. It’s certain that no one could really argue with the idea of this being the public’s preference. The Republicans still killed it. The problems in Washington are a Goridan Knot that Alexander himself would balk at. You need a support base within there just to chip at it.

And frankly, Bernie doesn’t really have that, given that he is an Independent, and certainly not after last election year, where he bore the blame of “dividing the party.” You may not believe that, but Washington does. Washington works by its own rules, and while they impact the rest of us, the reverse is significantly less true. Plus, given his recent heart attack... That might not stop his campaign yet, but that’s the kind of thing that stops a campaign dead. He’ll linger on a few months, but realistically speaking? That was the beginning of the end. That loses faith in his ability to make it through the general campaign, even if he maintains some momentum during the primary. This is the sort of thing that ends campaigns, don’t expect this to be the exception.

I despise the two-party system, but we’re stuck with it. It’s not going away any time soon. To get any support for your ideas, you need the support base that you need with the rest of the party. I hate this system, I truly do. But it’s the one that we have to work with, so that’s what we need to do.

I’d love to see the death of capitalism, the rise of socialism, etc, etc. But that particular changeover? That won’t happen overnight. That’s got to be (ironically) a progressive change. To demand otherwise is dooming yourself to failure, because you will get no where and condemn advancement.

Perfection is the enemy of progress. While I believe big changes are vitally necessary at this point, there also needs to recognition of the mess of systems involved. It’d be great to cut through them, but... That’s the problem of our current presidential mess. Just because a progressive candidate would be doing it ostensibly for the better, it still undermines the democracy at large.

We probably should reexamine the foundations of our society and systems. Unfortunately, that takes a lot of work that many don’t want or care to do, or just straight up don’t have the time for. Which is endemic of other problems. Again, Gordian Knot Alexander would balk at. We can fix some things, and in doing that, we can lay groundwork for further fixing. It sucks, but if it’s “nothing changes” or “incremental changes,” I’ll take incremental. I’d love “overhaul it all,” but on Medicare for All, too many Democrats are still looking at it in a frame of dismantling Obama’s signature achievement. That alone impacts the equation, so with that making a difference, yeah, if it means that we can only shore up the ACA instead of MFA in the immediate future... Yeah, I’ll take that.

Likewise... Remember, this is the EXACT. SAME. ATTITUDE. that put us in this situation, where people refused to accept that there was a difference between Trump and Hilary Clinton. And we KNOW that even at her worst, Hilary Clinton would absolutely have been better than the unending deluge of corruption that we have had from the Trump administration. So let’s just... Cool it on openly trashing candidates just because they aren’t going to do everything at once?

#dg talks politics #dg rants

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worthlesspride · 5 years

Note

Catch up with iwaoi from Seijoh Inc au?? NSFW would be awesome but sfw good too! Congrats again! ^^

((be advised this is extremely nsfw))

The meeting had dragged on for an hour when Iwaizumi’s cellphone buzzed. It was subtle, most of the time, but the conference room was so quiet that it was stifling. The only sound was Futakuchi droning on about his branch’s numbers, and Iwaizumi had stopped listening the instant he’d opened his mouth.

Iwaizumi tucked his elbow against his side, where his phone was stowed away in the pocket of his jacket. It buzzed again, then three more times in quick succession. Iwaizumi pretended not to know where the noise was coming from, but Semi, sitting beside him, slid him a knowing glance.

Iwaizumi waited until Semi looked away before discreetly dipping a hand into his pocket and taking out the phone, holding it beneath the edge of the table as he checked the screen.

He’ll never shut up.

He loves hearing his own voice too much.

He will literally sit there and talk until he dies of dehydration.

Fake a medical emergency so we can cut the meeting short.

Iwaizumi skimmed through the messages and cut his stare to the head of the table, where Oikawa sat with his elbow propped in his chin, eyes on Futakuchi as if he was invested in every word he said.

Iwaizumi suppressed an eye roll and typed back a quick response.

Pay attention. You’re the boss.

Oikawa was, and not just instead of his father. He’d taken the top office at the company a year before. His father had still ran the business from behind the scenes, up until a couple of months ago. He’d decided his son was perfectly capable and had pulled back for good, leaving everything in Oikawa’s questionably hands.

Of course Oikawa had been successful during the transition, and still was. He was the most competent man Iwaizumi had ever met, in regards to business management.

Sometimes he still found himself wondering how Oikawa functioned on a daily basis.

Oikawa leaned back in his chair, attention still ostensibly on Futakuchi. He barely glanced down at the phone in his lap. A moment later, another string of messages buzzed in Iwaizumi’s hand.

He silently cursed, switched off vibrate, and checked the texts.

I already know everything he’s saying. I read those reports last week.

I’m bored, Iwa-chan.

Entertain me.

Iwaizumi didn’t know how Oikawa expected him to do that in the middle of a crowded meeting. Before he could ask, another message slid through.

I have something for you. Do you want to see it?

Iwaizumi glanced up and met Oikawa’s eyes. There was a gleam in them that made Iwaizumi stiffen, a familiar blend of provocation and mischief.

He didn’t know exactly what Oikawa was thinking, but he knew him well enough to guess it wasn’t something appropriate for this meeting.

Iwaizumi should have put his phone away and refused to check it again until they were dismissed.

Instead, against his better judgment, he typed back, Okay.

The smile that bloomed across Oikawa’s face was smug, and Iwaizumi regretted his agreement instantly.

He didn’t regret it enough to stop himself from checking the next text.

Semi-chan is eavesdropping. I don’t mind if he sees, but you might be embarrassed.

Iwaizumi glanced to the side, where Semi was fixedly staring at Futakuchi across the table. His jaw was set, as if he’d indeed been reading Iwaizumi’s texts and had been called out.

Iwaizumi glanced down at the screen just as a picture came through, courtesy of Oikawa. It was a small thumbnail, and Iwaizumi shouldn’t have opened it. He knew better.

But he did it anyway, and heat flared across his face.

The message that followed the picture didn’t help.

I’m still wearing it.

Iwaizumi slapped his phone screen-down against his thigh and hoped no one noticed he was catching flame. He tried to ignore the swell of heat in his groin, but it was useless.

Oikawa’s smirk from across the table was tangible. He knew exactly what he was doing.

It was the longest meeting of Iwaizumi’s life, after that. He didn’t know how long Futakuchi talked, because he didn’t allow himself to look at his phone again to check the time. He sat rigid in his chair the entire time, too aware of Oikawa’s air of self-satisfaction as well as the frequent glances from Semi.

When it was over, Iwaizumi breathed such a strong sigh of relief that he felt he was deflating. He forced himself to mingle with the executives from their secondary branch, making polite small talk and complimenting them on their recent successes. Since Seijoh Inc. had grown to encompass Datekou the year before, their profits had risen substantially. It had been a good business move for everyone involved. Iwaizumi was pleased with the merger on a personal level, because it had given him a host of great employees.

One of those employees nudged him as he turned away from Aone, who’d always been a difficult man to engage in conversation.

“I’m going back down to our floor,” said Semi quietly. “I hate all of these assholes.”

“That’s too bad,” said Iwaizumi, matching his low tone. “You got promoted, so you have to suck it up and deal with it.” He pushed Semi toward Koganegawa, one of the new managers working under Futakuchi, and grinned to himself when Koganegawa launched into an enthusiastic conversation with Semi. Rather than sticking around to watch him suffer, Iwaizumi paced to the opposite end of the room and joined in on Ushijima’s conversation with Obara, who was one of the calmer Datekou executives.

Iwaizumi kept his back to Oikawa, but he didn’t need to see him to know Oikawa was watching him from across the room. He felt it, like there was a bright red target painted on the back of his head.

When the conversations had dwindled down, and Iwaizumi was on the verge of making his own escape from the conference room, a strong hand latched onto his shoulder and steered him toward the door.

“Come on, Iwaizumi-san,” said Oikawa, guiding him toward the group of Datekou executives as they exited into the hallway. “Let’s escort our guests down to the lobby.”

“I think you can handle it,” said Iwaizumi, shrugging away from his hand. “I have work waiting in my office.”

“It will keep waiting. Right this way, gentlemen!”

It was pointless for Oikawa to accompany them at all. It wasn’t a difficult trip down to the first floor. Still, Oikawa boarded the elevator alongside them, and left with little choice, Iwaizumi did the same.

Oikawa chatted with Futakuchi all the way down, as if there had never been any tension or rivalry between them. They’d gotten along much better over the past few months, but every now and then Iwaizumi still saw those unforgotten feelings in the flash of Oikawa’s eyes and the sharpness of his smile. It was probably inconspicuous to anyone else. Iwaizumi just knew him too well.

Oikawa said a final farewell as their visitors stepped onto the first floor and headed toward the door. He pressed the button for the eleventh floor, and Iwaizumi reached past him, to select the seven.

His hand was slapped away, and Oikawa stepped close, crowding him against the elevator wall.

“Why the fuck,” said Iwaizumi, “would you send me that picture in the middle of a meeting?”

Oikawa grinned. He gripped the shallow rail on either side of Iwaizumi, caging him in. “You didn’t like it?”

“I would’ve liked it better if I hadn’t been in a room with twenty other people.”

“How about now, then?” said Oikawa. “It’s only the two of us here. I’ll show you in person.”

Iwaizumi closed his eyes and took a breath, seeking the resolve to say no.

It was nowhere to be found, and Oikawa’s lips against his ear did nothing to help.

“Fine,” said Iwaizumi through his teeth. “But it’ll have to be quick. Fifteen minutes in your office, then I have to go back down the seventh floor and-”

“No,” said Oikawa. “Not in my office.” He slapped a hand against the panel on the wall, over the red STOP button. The elevator cranked to a smooth stop, the numbers overhead indicating they were between the ninth and tenth floors. “Here.”

Iwaizumi just stared at him. He couldn’t be serious. “Oikawa, we can’t-”

“Sure we can.” Oikawa took a step back and tugged at his belt, the buckle clicking as he loosened it. “This is my company. This is my elevator. I’ll do whatever I want on it.”

“This is the only elevator in the building,” said Iwaizumi, unable to look away as Oikawa worked his pants down his hips. “We can’t hold it up like this.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Oikawa moved close, his fingers tugging at Iwaizumi’s belt. “This is my company, Hajime.” His eyes smoldered as he said it, the name dripping off of his tongue like honey. “I’ll do whatever I want.”

There was no argument for that, not when Oikawa slipped a hand into the front of Iwaizumi’s pants.

“Just be quick about it,” said Oikawa, kissing along Iwaizumi’s jaw. “If you’re so worried.” He turned away and tucked his thumbs into his boxer briefs, slowly dragging them down the curve of his ass.

Iwaizumi realized, distantly that Oikawa had borrowed his underwear.

He forgot all about that when Oikawa gripped the opposite elevator rail and bent over, giving him an unimpeded view of the bright blue butt plug nestled between his cheeks.

It wasn’t a surprise. Iwaizumi had already received a very revealing picture of it earlier that day. But seeing it in person, paired with the little smirk that Oikawa threw over his shoulder, was entirely different.

Iwaizumi yanked at his belt, pulling it the rest of the way free. He worked the front of his pants loose, eyes stuck to Oikawa, heat pulsing low in his gut.

“You did this on purpose,” said Iwaizumi, stepping close. “You knew we’d be in that meeting for hours and you did this on purpose, to fuck with me.”

“Maybe.” Oikawa reached back and tipped his fingers beneath the edge of the plug, pulling it out slowly, Iwaizumi holding his breath until it was out. “You don’t seem to be complaining about it now.”

There was no point to complain. They’d been together long enough that Iwaizumi knew complaints would only make Oikawa worse.

And if he was being honest with himself, he would be disappointed if this sort of inappropriate behavior ever stopped.

“What was that you said, about needing to get this done quickly?” asked Oikawa, still bent over the rail in invitation. “Don’t be so selfish, Iwa-chan. Someone else might need to use the elevator sometime today.”

Iwaizumi slapped his ass; not hard, just a gentle admonishment. He stroked himself a few times, but it was hardly necessary. The tension of Oikawa’s earlier teasing, paired with this view, already had him hard.

“You good?” he asked, sliding a hand up Oikawa’s shirt, over the smooth skin of his back.

“I wasted half a bottle of lube. I’m definitely good.”

Iwaizumi lined himself up, barely nudged his way inside. “You’re a nightmare, you know that?”

“I’m a dream,” corrected Oikawa. “The best dream you’ve ever had.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t even argue with that. Instead, he gripped Oikawa’s hips and slammed into him with one solid thrust. Oikawa made a startled sound, but pushed back against him, seeking more. There was no resistance, and Iwaizumi slid in deeper.

“Fuck.” Iwaizumi curled an arm around Oikawa’s chest and pulled him upright, flattening him against the elevator wall for better leverage. “The elevator door isn’t that thick. What if someone hears us?”

“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you agreed.” Oikawa rolled his hips back against Iwaizumi. “Very irresponsible of you, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi slammed into him, just to shut him up. Oikawa moaned, and Iwaizumi pressed a hand over his mouth. “Stop it.”

Oikawa nipped at Iwaizumi’s fingers. “I can’t help it. You make me feel so good, Hajime, god…” He dragged that into another moan, and Iwaizumi covered his mouth again.

Oikawa was playing it up, just to get a rise out of him. Iwaizumi knew that, but still the sound of Oikawa’s voice, rolling low and deep, made him hot.

He braced his free hand against the wall and thrust into Oikawa, keeping a hand over Oikawa’s lips even when a tongue probed at his palm. Maybe Oikawa didn’t mind the thought of someone overhearing them, but Iwaizumi didn’t want their reputations to be ruined because of a quick fuck in an elevator.

As Oikawa had suggested, he made it quick. It wasn’t difficult, considering the circumstances. Despite the makeshift gag of Iwaizumi’s hand, the sounds humming in Oikawa’s throat were intoxicating. He pushed himself back against Iwaizumi with every thrust, the slap of skin against skin so loud that Iwaizumi feared that would be heard as easily as their voices.

As the heat built between them, he could no longer worry about that, or anything else. He slammed into Oikawa, breath coming short, and said, “I’m close.”

“Don’t pull out.” Oikawa reached back, clawing against Iwaizumi’s hip, forcing him closer. “We don’t want to leave a mess in the elevator, right?”

That turned Iwaizumi on just as much as it annoyed him. He squeezed Oikawa’s hip as he came, thrusting deep, the pulses of his orgasm leaving him breathless. He pulled out slowly, and Oikawa immediately fumbled back, squeezing the plug back inside of himself.

“I’ll clean that up later,” he said with that smug grin, the one that had the power to make Iwaizumi simultaneously furious and aroused. Oikawa yanked up his pants. “Hit the red button again.”

“Shut up.” Iwaizumi tucked himself back into his slacks and shoved Oikawa against the wall. He seemed confused, until Iwaizumi sank down to his knees. “You get a turn too, just make it quick.”

Oikawa slipped his fingers through Iwaizumi’s hair as he leaned close. “Well that really depends on you, doesn’t it, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and swallowed Oikawa’s cock in one smooth dip of his head.

The choking sound that Oikawa made suggested this would, in fact, be quick.

Iwaizumi hollowed his cheeks, sucking in the way he’d learned Oikawa liked best. He used his tongue, and palmed at Oikawa’s balls, until there was an urgent tap on his shoulder.

“Iwa-chan. Back off.”

Iwaizumi flicked a glance up at him and kept going.

Oikawa moaned, loud and unashamed, as he came into Iwaizumi’s mouth.

If anyone was anywhere close to the elevator, there was no way they’d failed to hear it.

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, but sucked Oikawa clean. He wiped a thumb across his mouth as he stood, making sure there was no lingering evidence.

Oikawa had flushed cheeks and bright eyes as he clumsily pulled his pants up and adjusted himself. “You swallowed. You never swallow.”

Iwaizumi shrugged. “Like you said. We don’t want to leave a mess in the elevator.”

Oikawa grinned and wrapped his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck, kissing him in spite of the bitter taste on Iwaizumi’s tongue. When he pried himself away and slapped the panel, the elevator giving an unsteady lurch before resuming its smooth climb, he leaned against the wall with a sigh.

“That was great,” said Oikawa, sliding a smile at Iwaizumi. The doors slid open to the eleventh floor, and he added, “I can’t wait to watch the video.” He gestured vaguely to the top corner of the elevator as he stepped through the doors and vanished around the corner.

Iwaizumi whipped his head up, gaping at the small camera mounted to the ceiling.

That had not been there a week ago.

Oikawa had planned this.

Iwaizumi pushed through the half-closed elevator doors and stormed down the hallway.

He was going to kill Oikawa.

#thank you for making me revisit seijoh inc!#jane you were already on my list because i read your tags on that reblog #i was just going to try and guess something you would like #but i'm glad you gave me something specific #also yes i was thinking of your elevator fic #iwaoi #1000prompts #writing

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velvetchen · 6 years

Text

Bruise | pt. viii

[ back to masterlist ]

Scenario: Boxer!AU, Ceo!AU Pairing: Baekhyun/Reader, Suho/Reader Word Count: 5.7k Warnings: love triangle, angst, mentions of assault, mentions of gangs/gang violence and alcohol

Summary: You have your life laid out in front of you, everything planned: from the clothes you wear to the man you have to marry. There’s no escape - or so you think.

<< previous part x next part >>

You were drawing stares, and there was no way to avoid it.

Finding the right street hadn’t been much of an issue. The roads had become increasingly deserted as you drove out towards your destination, until you entered an area of the city filled with buildings clamoring for space, garish neon signs flashing in your eyes, and eventually the road grew so narrow that Junmyeon’s car no longer fit through. Not that you wanted to continue much longer by car, since almost everyone was watching you with interest. You stood out.

To your displeasure, that didn’t change even after you got out of the car, your formal attire drawing looks that were most definitely unwanted. You wished you had something to cover your bare legs - anything to shield yourself, anything that would let you continue on your way as if invisible.

You crossed your arms tight over your chest. Where is it…

The Eclipse advertised itself rather ostensibly for the level of illegal activity you knew went on inside. The door was placed front and center - easily visible to anyone passing by, and easily identifiable thanks to the giant sign that spelled out ECLIPSE in intimidating red neon. Below, the entire glass front was marked by a glowing red crescent.

You sucked in a deep breath, adjusting the front of your dress yet again. I’m doing this for Junmyeon, you reminded yourself. He needs me.

It was only as you were pulling on the handle that you thought that this might be a trap - too late. You had already taken your first step into the instantly dimmer interior, and you figured if you were walking into a trap, it was too late. You were already here, and you were in plain sight. They knew.

I’m doing this for Junmyeon. That was the only thing that was keeping you from booking it out of there immediately. The minute you found Junmyeon and got the hell out of there, you were done. Done with this underworld and everything it brought with it. You didn’t know what you were getting into when you agreed to join Seohyun that night - when you placed that bet, when you let Baekhyun take you home that night and set things in motion. Certainly you weren’t expecting this near nightmare, with you dragged too far into something you weren’t sure you could get out of, with your and Junmyeon’s lives at stake.

The inside of the Eclipse was smoky, lit with strobing red lights that swept around the room, bouncing off walls and weaving in between the throngs of people that collected on the floor. At this time of night, things were only just starting for the night. As you stood uncertainly in the middle of the room, trying not to look like your heart was about to beat out of your chest, the doors behind you continuously swung open and closed, letting in all kinds of people. People whom you would never associate with if it weren’t for this…situation.

You wanted to turn around, to dash outside and back to Junmyeon’s car and get out of here, but the growing crowd pushed you further inside, until you were moving just to avoid drawing too much attention. Not that you weren’t drawing any attention in the first place: your relatively clean look and the fact that your discomfort was obvious singled you out among the throng of people who were obviously here for a purpose.

Only just stopping yourself from giving into the urge to cross your arms tight across your chest and attempting to shrink into the floor, you instead straightened your shoulders and tried to seem like you knew what you were doing. Blending in as part of the crowd was not an option, so faked confidence was all you had.

Which would have worked well if you actually knew where you had to go, whom you had to find. Instead, you were constantly looking out for an ambush, for someone to grab you by the wrist and pull you into a darkened alley, to tie you up and put you in the back of a truck. You had no idea what was in store for you.

If you could even find Junmyeon. If you could even get out of this alive.

Your phone started to ring from your bag. Hands trembling, you reached inside as quickly as you could, shoving your way closer to the wall so you could stay out of the way.

Kim Junmyeon is calling.

Heart pounding even harder now, you answered. “Hello?”

It was a miracle you managed to hear the chillingly familiar voice over the boom of the music and the shouts, but the moment he began speaking, every hair on your skin stood up on end.

“Hello, Y/N. I see you’ve arrived - good. Punctuality is an important habit to have.”

You growled. “Tell me what the fuck I’m here for and just let us go.”

“All in good time,” the man chuckled. The sound elicited the phantom feeling of hands crawling across your skin once again, and you closed your eyes, inhaling deeply to calm your racing heart as he continued. “For now, I want you to go over to the bar and order a black adder. It’s one of the more popular drinks, I’m sure you’ll love it. On the house, of course.”

Your teeth dug painfully into your bottom lip as you restrained the sudden rage that his flippant tone unearthed.

“Sound good? I’ll see you in just a few minutes. Don’t worry, I can’t wait, either.” With another half-chuckle, the line clicked dead.

You ripped the phone from your ear, staring down at it in disgust. You were going to meet this man - if you could even call him one - face to face. And he wanted - what? He was asking you to come to him, wanted you to seek him out. To talk? To negotiate? To hold you ransom, as well?

There was only one way to find out, and as much as the thought nearly paralyzed you with fear, you had to do it if you were going to find Junmyeon and get out of this, once and for all. Steeling yourself, you slid into the depths of the crowd again, trying to navigate further in. You had no idea where the bar was, but following the movement of the crowd was a good enough indicator.

There was an empty stool at the bar, right in the middle. It was surprisingly unpopulated. The only other occupants were a woman in all black, clutching a cigarette as she smirked up at the bartender, and two men seated at the opposite end. Here, no one made an effort to pointedly look at you. Either they were too drunk, or there was no reason to stare: they already knew who you were. You desperately hoped it was the former.

Your legs stuck to the stool as you sat uncomfortably upon it, leaning one elbow against the table, holding tight to your phone with your other hand. You scanned the room behind you for anything suspicious or out of the ordinary. For anyone focused on you. Nothing stood out, and before you could give things another once-over, your eyes began to lose focus from the flashing lights and you turned away to face a man on the other side of the bar.

Is that him…? But no, he didn’t seem to recognize you. Of course, he still gave you a lewd once-over from head to toe before leaning too close for comfort. “Can I get you anything, miss?”

You only just kept yourself from recoiling too obviously. “I’ll have, uh, a black adder.” You cursed yourself for the stutter. Don’t show weakness.

The change in his expression was instant as he cast a quick glance back at the crowd behind you before turning around to pull a glass from the shelf. So it wasn’t him, but he definitely knew who you were now. The drink was some kind of message. He worked quickly behind the counter, his movements hidden behind a small shelf - but you were quickly distracted from what the bartender was doing when the stool beside you was suddenly occupied by someone.

He leaned casually over the bar toward you, and you knew. The breath froze in your throat as you waited for something to happen, and you took in his appearance at last. This was the man who had pinned you down in your car that night, who had threatened you, who had almost...

The man who had taken Junmyeon. Who had dragged you into this mess.

You balled your fists, clenching the hem of your dress tightly in them as you fought the urge to throw a punch and pummel him to the ground. You certainly felt like you could - you could see yourself standing, sending a hard knock to his cheek. Could see him fall to the ground, blood dripping from a freshly split lip. Could almost feel the resistance of bone against your knuckles as you thought of sitting over him, striking his face over and over until his face was a mash of red. The rage was coming to a boil, ready to burst.

And then you saw the unmistakable matte black of a gun at his hip, and fear immediately quenched any hopes of exacting revenge. He knew, too, and the smug expression told you everything.

Once again, you were at his mercy, and this time, he hadn’t had to lay a single finger on you. He knew, he knew you knew, and you hated it.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you at last,” he said, that voice even more chilling when not over the distance that a phone call offered, and in such a casual tone. A harsh difference to the last time you had heard his voice, an almost animalistic snarl in your ear. Let me teach you a lesson, bitch. To think that he was so close now, his hands a single thought away from landing on you, or on his gun…

“Why did you bring me here?” you said, and you absolutely hated how timid your voice sounded. Like you were already surrendering. Like you were giving in. Where was the fight you knew you had in you? “You said you would answer my questions. Why am I here? Why did you take Junmyeon?”

He gave a short, amused laugh. “This is only a simple business negotiation, Y/N. I’m sure you’re familiar with those?”

You pressed your lips tight. He was mocking you.

“This is, of course, in your best interests. Everything will turn out well for both you and us. It’s just a little bit of an agreement, and then we can both go our separate ways.” He looked up as the bartender set a tall, narrow glass of something in front of both of you, so deep red that it was almost black. You eyed it warily.

“You can trust me when I say we’ll never contact you again, and your reputation will stay intact. And the drink is perfectly safe. No adulterations, I can promise you.” He gave you a half-wink before taking a slow sip from his.

You clutched the glass, the cold condensation seeping into your skin. “We?”

“Ah. Me and my…team, you could say.”

“Why would I trust you?” You nearly spat the last word, fingers clenching tight around the column of the glass.

He took another sip. “Like I said, this is in your best interests. You should definitely try the drink.”

Exhaling sharply, you forced yourself to take a sip. It was painfully sour, but also sweet, and the amount of alcohol in it would probably be enough to make you pass out with just one glass. “Exactly how is this in my best interests? Assaulting me, kidnapping my fiancé?” The title slipped out without you thinking and you wanted to swallow it down.

“There are some things you don’t know about Bruiser and his followers,” he continued. “We just want to help you get out before you’re in too deep with him. Some counseling, if you will. All we ask in return for our information, and our protection, if you need it, is that you keep tabs on him. Tell us where he is, where he goes. That’s all.”

So it was about Baekhyun. Of course it was about Baekhyun. “Help me? Right. I don’t know if I can believe anything you say. Give me one reason to trust you.”

“There, we’re making progress,” he smiled, exposing his crooked teeth - crooked, you realized, from being hit and replaced multiple times. Only then did you notice the scars that were visible over his arms and face. So he was a fighter, too. Or something of the sort. A hitman?

He drained the last drops of his drink. “Firstly, it would be wise decision if you want your fiancé back alive. If that’s not enough motivation, I’m sure you’ll be plenty surprised to learn about some of our contacts. How about I let someone more qualified do the explanation?”

The completely flat tone in which he said if you want your fiancé back alive sent ice rocketing down your nerves. You hadn’t doubted for a moment that they didn’t care if either you or Junmyeon got hurt. Much less if you died. You fisted your hands so tightly the nails dug into the palm of your hand.

He stood, nodded once to follow him, and stood. Only then did you notice a door, stood very slightly ajar, to the far right edge of the wall. He headed over, resting his hand on the door handle before looking back at you. “If you want answers, then come with me. You’re free to leave, of course, but I can’t say that would end very well for you or your fiancé.”

Whatever lay beyond the door was in darkness, obscured from view. But if you wanted out of this nightmare, you had to go.

Leaving the cursed drink behind, you stood, and entered the doorway with as much bravado as you could muster. Which was a surprising amount, given the situation. You were just glad that when the door shut behind you, the darkness hid the way your entire body trembled.

What if this was a trap, after all? To bring you here to this dark room, to continue where he had left off the last time? Fear gripped you tightly. You stood, frozen in place, waiting to hear that dark laugh, expecting the feeling of a cold hand on your skin. To hear, so naive, Y/N. You believed me so blindly.

But to your surprise, a click sounded as another door opened and dim fluorescent light flooded the room - which you saw was a janitor’s closet - from beyond. He slipped out, then held the door open for you to follow, leading you down a flight of bare concrete stairs. The lights flickered and dimmed, and the further you got to the basement the more the walls and floor were covered with mildew and dust. You kept your distance, ready at any moment to turn and run back up.

Another door at the bottom led into a similarly lit and empty corridor, which snaked around the corner of the building and ended at three doors. One was padlocked. From the other, you heard laughter and voices. The steady thrum of the beat from upstairs permeated the ceiling, drifting down, covering the echo of your footsteps as the man led you down into the last door.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting inside, but what actually lay behind the door was not what you would have thought.

The first thing the opening door revealed was Junmyeon, seated on a fraying couch in the right corner, unhurt and unbound.

You sagged. He was alright. He was alive. And he looked up and saw you, and you knew the relief in his face was mirrored in yours.

“Y/N,” he gasped, standing instantly to take a step forward and wrap his arms around you tightly. “You’re here.”

But in your ear he whispered: “Just do what they say. Please.”

He let you go, moving back and giving you a nod. Only then did you realize you weren’t alone in the room - at the other end, behind a broad wooden desk, sat another man. He was flanked on either side by two others, dressed like the man that had brought you here - in utilitarian black, with the telltale bulge of a gun at the waist and, you were sure, a few other weapons tucked elsewhere, judging by the way they were standing. Watching you carefully, his hands steepled over his desk.

You glanced at Junmyeon, alarmed, but his expression, placid as always, instantly calmed you. It was just something about his aura that could soothe your tension anywhere. Even here. Even when you were unsure if your very next movement could get you hurt or worse.

“Y/N,” the man behind the desk said after a long moment of silence. “It’s nice to finally meet you. You know, I’ve heard a lot about you from my sources. I can say you don’t disappoint.”

You stood, silent.

“Oh, how rude of me to not introduce myself. You can call me the Cardinal.” He smiled, and it reeked with just as much insincerity as the other man’s. “As my associate must have told you, I’ve brought you here to discuss a few agreements. I’m sure you’ve already told her the terms, Jiho?”

The man who’d brought you here - Jiho - nodded. “Yes, sir.”

So this Cardinal was the leader of this…whatever this was? “You want my help?” You asked. “Why me? Why not any of Bruiser’s other-” again, you weren’t sure what to call them “-followers?”

Irritation flicked across his face at your interruption. “We need you, specifically, because you are closer to him than any of the others. And because you can be trusted, based on the recommendation of one of my good friends.”

You squinted at him in confusion. “Who?”

He smiled tightly. “It might be better if you spoke to him yourself. It must have been a while since you last talked, hmm?” He pulled out his phone, quickly dialing a number before holding it out to you and beckoning you forward.

Unsure, you reached for the phone, checking the caller ID - no name, unfamiliar number - before pressing it to your ear. Involuntarily, your heart pounded in your chest as the phone rang once, twice, thrice. And then it stopped when you heard the voice that answered, so familiar yet so unfamiliar that you nearly dropped the phone in utter shock.

“Hello?” You would recognize that voice anywhere. The last time you had heard it…

Your breath came out ragged, shaky as you closed your eyes. “Chanyeol?”

A clatter. He’d dropped his phone on the other end. A second later, when he picked it up - “Y/N? Is that you? What the hell, why are you calling from this number? Are you alright? Is everything alright?”

“I…I’m fine.”

His voice dipped lower. “What the fuck. I’m serious, Y/N, are you alright? Have they done anything to you?”

“What’s going on, Chanyeol?” From behind the table, the Cardinal cocked his head, studying you. “Why are you…how do you know these people? What’s going on?”

He let out a long, angry huff. “I should have probably explained things to you long ago. This would have happened sooner or later. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you had to find out this way, but Y/N, you need to get out of there. Don’t agree to anything. Just get the hell out of there as soon as you can. I’ll explain everything later, okay?”

“Okay, but Chanyeol-”

“Listen to me,” his tone grew urgent. “The minute you get out, they will track every movement, every phone call. This doesn’t end here. I don’t know how much you know or how far you’re involved, but this is nowhere near over. Be safe, okay? I’ll find some way to contact you, I promise.”

“How do I-”

He cut you off again. “Like I said, don’t agree to anything. Tell them you’ll think about it. I promise you they will not harm you today, but the next time, I can’t be so sure.”

“Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll do that.”

“Good,” he said. “I miss you. I miss you so much. Fuck, I thought I was protecting you from this, you weren’t supposed to find out…Are you alone?”

“No, I’m with Junmyeon,” you said, meeting his gaze for a brief moment.

“Junmyeon-” He hissed. “Both of you…Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’ll get both of you out of this, I promise.”

“Okay,” you said again, and the blood rushed in your ears, drowning out everything else. “But Chanyeol, tell me - are you alright? Where have you been?”

If these people were the reason he left… The possibilities flashed over you. Was he being held hostage? Or was he involved with this in a different way? Was he on their side, maybe? You didn’t want to think about it.

“I’m fine. Right now, we’re worrying about you. Got it?”

“Yeah,” you said. The Cardinal was still watching you carefully, his cheek rested on one hand as one corner of his mouth quirked up in something close to amusement.

Your gaze clashed with his as Chanyeol said, “You know what you have to do.”

The line went dead.

The Cardinal held his hand back out for the phone, and you reluctantly gave it up, dropping it in his palm without bringing your hand into contact with his. A tense pause passed. Even though noise carried from overhead, you were isolated here, far from the surface and anything else. Right now, all you knew was this room. All that mattered was getting out. If Chanyeol was right, and these men were even more dangerous than they seemed, even more so because of Chanyeol’s involvement with them, then leaving safely tonight was your first priority.

“Please, sit down,” the Cardinal said at last, gesturing to the empty seat beside Junmyeon. “Where are my manners? Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thanks,” Unwilling to break eye contact, you settled beside Junmyeon. Instantly, his hand slipped onto your lap to enclose yours. You squeezed, once. It only then occurred to you, in a flash. This was the first time Junmyeon was hearing of Chanyeol’s existence since that phone call months ago. His first proof that his friend was still alive somewhere - and the news that he was also involved with some sort of underworld. You could only imagine what was running through his head right now.

You squeezed his hand again.

“So?” You said. “What do you want to negotiate with me?”

“As you know, the Underground Dark Leagues are coming up soon,” the Cardinal said. “Do you know if Bruiser will be contesting?”

Of course, you were about to say. Then you remembered - you had no place taking sides. “Why would he tell me something like that?”

His faux politeness dropped like a stone as his eyes flashed. “Don’t fucking lie. We know you’re a student of his, that you’ve been to the Underground. We have people watching everything you do down there. We know you’ve seen his matches, you’ve been inside his rooms. Evidently, he trusts you.” He tapped the table once. “Why, is the question.”

Trusts me? As if. You swallowed. “And I have no idea whether he’s contesting or not. I said what I said.”

He calmed, but you saw a vein continue to pulse under his jaw. “I see. And do you have any aspirations to contest?”

“How does that matter?”

Slam! His hand came down hard on the tabletop. “Answer the fucking question.”

“No, I don’t,” you said, and Junmyeon lightly stroked circles on the back of your hand to calm the warble in your voice. “I don’t.”

The Cardinal nodded sharply. “Good. We don’t want you anywhere near them.”

“Why, because you care about me?” The retort forced its way out, and you wanted to cry and laugh at the same time, a mix of fear and incredulity. “What’s this about?”

“Like we said,” he hesitated, the throbbing of the vein in his neck growing more insistent, “we will give you protection, if necessary, if you can give us updates on Bruiser’s plans.”

“If he trusts me - your words, not mine - why do you believe I would come over to your side so easily? What makes you think I would need or want your protection, if I have his?”

The Cardinal forced a laugh that trailed off as he raised an eyebrow at you. “But do you trust him? What do you even know about him? He’s not who you think he is.”

“It would help if you told me,” you said dryly.

He laughed again, a gritty sound that was more condescending than humored. “Don’t try to be funny. Maybe you should find out who someone really is before you go around getting yourself involved with them, hmm?”

“Which is why making a deal with you is such a good idea,” you muttered under your breath. “You know what, your offer seems promising, but you’re right. I want to find out what exactly I’m dealing with before I get involved. I’ll think about this.”

You weren’t exactly sure how far you could trust Chanyeol that these men wouldn’t harm you if you told them you’d think about it, but it was the only plan you had.

The Cardinal waved a hand aside. “There we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“I haven’t agreed yet,” you said carefully. “I said, I’ll think about it.” Please, please let me stall.

“Of course. We respect your decision.” His thin lips pulled back in an even thinner smile. “Likewise, I hope you understand we will have to take the appropriate course of action in case you reject our offer.”

You didn’t want to know what the ‘appropriate course of action’ was, but you could guess. With a similarly contrived smile and your heart thudding so hard you were sure everyone could hear, you nodded once. “I understand.”

“We’d appreciate it if you gave us a response quickly,” the Cardinal said, but his eyes were flashing with something. A threat. A ticking time bomb. If you didn’t answer them, you would pay.

“I plan to. Pleasure doing business with you,” you said, only a few degrees of sarcasm keeping your tone from being flat-out mocking. “Can we go? I have someplace to be. You interrupted my date with my fiancé.”

He made a shooing gesture towards the door. “Please, by all means, go ahead.”

Jiho, still standing next to the door, shook himself out of an expression of boredom, eyes darting over you and Junmyeon and your clasped hands before opening the door. You stepped out, still not letting go of Junmyeon’s hand as you exited, heart still pounding. Still awaiting a trap. Were they really going to let you go so easily? Was that all it was?

Once you were out, Jiho pulled the door shut. “You’re free to go,” he said, but not before you noticed the predatory glint still in his eye as he faced you. An expression that said, I’m not done with you yet. Goosebumps rose all over your skin.

You and Junmyeon continued in silence back down the empty concrete corridor. Yes, he was silent now, but you knew he was going to demand answers, and you were going to have to give them to him.

You emerged into the dank night air outside the Eclipse, taking a deep breath before pulling Junmyeon in the direction you’d left the car. “This way.”

The both of you attracted even more attention now, later at night and with Junmyeon still in his cleanly pressed suit. By now you were too tired to care, and you figured anyone putting a target on you both could possibly surpass the trouble you’d just found yourself in. So the walk to where you had parked the car was uneventful and silent, and so was the car ride as you drove back - only after you exited the less-than-savory district where the Eclipse was, and the roads once again morphed into the clean, familiar, landscaped lines that you were familiar with, did Junmyeon speak.

“Y/N,” he said, and you could hear the tiredness in his voice. “Do you want to explain to me what’s going on?”

The softness of his tone was what did it. Abruptly, you pulled over to the side of the road, and before you knew it you were choking up, face turning blotchy and wet with tears as you gripped the steering tightly and tried to regain control of yourself. “Myeon, I’m so sorry,” you sniffled. “I didn’t know any of this would happen, I swear. I didn’t want to get dragged into this, and I just wanted some place to get away from it all. And now I’ve put you in danger, and Chanyeol is involved somehow, and they might kill us if I don’t agree to spy on Baekhyun…”

Junmyeon opened his mouth to say something, but you held out a hand to stop him. “You know what, I’m just going to say this. It’s my fault. I owe you an explanation. I shouldn’t have been stupid enough to get involved under the promise of a way to hide.”

“And you’re right,” he said gently, surprising you. “You’ve made some bad choices, but we all make bad choices. This one just happens to be a little more dangerous than others. But we’re in this now, and…if we have any chance of sorting things out, you need to explain what exactly is going on.”

You shook your head to clear it, pulling a tissue from your purse to blot away the tears and now-streaking makeup from your face. “I…It’s a long story. I…”

“Start with what you know,” he said. “And we’ll fill in the gaps.”

Taking a deep breath, you nodded. “Okay.”

You were back in Junmyeon’s penthouse, curled up on his sofa in a blanket, a mug of tea clutched in your hands as you watched Junmyeon pace back and forth across the rug. He held his phone tight in his hand. Minutes earlier - just after you’d gotten home, you’d gotten a text from Chanyeol. He wanted to contact you, and he had a way to do so where the Cardinal’s men wouldn’t be able to tap into the conversation.

Your phone rang first loudly, splitting the silence. With a jump, you looked up at Junmyeon, and he gave you a meaningful look before settling down next to you. You heard him take a deep breath, too as you answered the call.

“Hello?” you said, voice barely a whisper.

“Y/N?” Chanyeol said. Of course it was him. You would know that voice anywhere. Even after more than a year of not hearing it in person. “I’m so glad you’re safe. Where are you now?”

“My apartment,” Junmyeon answered. “For now.”

“Good,” Chanyeol said. “But you’ll have to move somewhere else, somewhere safe. They’re likely watching you as we speak.”

Instinctively, you cast a glance towards the broad windows overlooking the nighttime cityscape. Could they see you? Were they outside the building right now, waiting for one of you to leave?

“Chanyeol, who are these people?” You pulled your legs up onto the sofa, tucking them under you and leaning further into Junmyeon’s side. Automatically, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, drawing you a tiny bit closer. “Why are you involved with them?” Are they the reason you left? Because if they were…

Chanyeol hesitated. “Where do I begin? Gold City has a massive underworld. There are groups called syndicates- basically gangs, mafia, and whatever you want to call them - clans of people who are aligned under a single leader and commit organized crime all over the country on a mass scale. The men you met today, the Cardinal and his men? They’re part of a syndicate called the Jade Wing. The biggest syndicate in the country, one of the biggest and most powerful in the world.

“As for how I’m involved with them…It’s a long story, and to make it short, I’ll just say that I found myself owing a very large debt, and to pay it off, I’ve had to do some things that I’m not exactly proud of-”

“Chanyeol,” Junmyeon interrupted, “are you referring to…”

“Yes,” Chanyeol said, voice firm, but you heard the shame creeping into his tone. “I am.” You cast Junmyeon a confused look. Whatever it was, it must be hard for Chanyeol to admit to Junmyeon, his oldest friend and one of the only people whom he looked up to. You didn’t want to pry.

“Go on,” Junmyeon said gently. “What’s done is done.”

Another pause. Chanyeol let out a long exhale. “Yeah. I’ll…that’s my job to sort out now, hyung. Please don’t worry about me. I’ve cleaned things up well enough.”

“Of course. I trust you.”

“Right.” Chanyeol cleared his throat. “As I was saying, you met one of the leaders of the Jade Wing. The Cardinal. I’m actually surprised they sent such a high-ranking member to meet you, and for you to come out so easily...what did they tell you?”

The question was directed at you. “I, uh, I think I should give you some background information first.”

“Go on.”

So you proceeded to tell Chanyeol the whole story, every detail that you had just told Junmyeon. From the first day that you’d walked into the Underground, cast a bet, how that had led to Baekhyun dragging you down into his world for good. How you had thought at first that this was safe. Just boxing lessons and a man who was completely different from everything you’d ever known. The intrigue. The promise. You wanting to fight in the Underground. And your final meeting with Baekhyun.

“I told him I wanted nothing to do with him anymore,” you finished. “But I guess that’s impossible now.”

Chanyeol, who’d been silent the whole time as you talked, hummed in agreement. “You’re right. You have to find a way to get yourselves out of this mess before you owe the syndicate something, or before word gets out and the company’s reputation is tarnished. God knows it’s tarnished enough. This guy, the one you met in the underground, what’s his name?”

“His underground alias is Bruiser,” you said. “Real name Byun Baekhyun.”

You heard Chanyeol stop dead. “Y/N, are you sure?”

“Very sure,” you said, but your voice trailed up in a question.

It was a few seconds of heavy silence before Chanyeol spoke again, at last. The words sunk deep. “Bruiser. Of all the people… Y/N, I think you’re in the middle of a syndicate war.” He paused again. “And I don’t know why, but I think you’re the pawn for both sides.”

a/n: sorry no baekhyun in this part, but we’ll see him very soon ~ thank you all for being patient with the updates! it’s been a busy month and now that things have calmed down updates should come more regularly!

as always, i love to hear what yall have to say about this chapter!

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postfuguestate · 5 years

Text

Warning: Contains Fanfiction

Soooo...I have the beginnings of a new Chasefield Life is Strange fic. Wroking title: Icon. It is firmly in the genre AU side of things. First draft of the first chapter is below the cut, if anyone is interested...

When her phone starts ringing, Max Caulfield sits bolt upright and scrabbles around the wasteland of her bed until she finds it. She snatches it up and fails to suppress a groan when she sees who’s calling. “Dad! Hey, I’m so sorry I haven’t--”

“Did you die? Have you only recently been resurrected?”

Max flops back on her bed. “Not funny, dad.”

“It’s a crazy world these days. It could happen. But if it didn’t…why haven’t you called back, Max? You know your mom and I worry.”

“I’ve just...been busy.” Max rescues her teddy bear from the suffocating folds of her comforter and gives him a hug. “I’ve been really...busy.”

It isn’t a lie. Not really. Max has been busy taking photographs, putting her work out there, applying for jobs, trying to make something happen. But nothing has happened yet. Nothing that pays enough to maintain her share of the rent on the crappy apartment in a less than desirable neighbourhood in Los Angeles where Max ostensibly lives.

“You found a job?”

“...nothing steady. Not yet.”

“Max…” He covers the phone for a moment, probably to conceal a sigh. His care in trying to mask his disappointment in her only makes Max feel more keenly how far short of his expectations she’s fallen. “Maybe it’s time to come home? For a while, at least. You remember your uncle Pete? He says that Monolith are hiring. They’re a big media company.”

“Dad. I’m a stills photographer.” Max rubs her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Do they need a stills photographer?”

“Be realistic, Max. You’d be starting in data entry. This could be a foot in the door for you! A chance to earn steadily, make contacts...you could move back in with us.” He pauses, but Max is too busy trying to hold herself together to help him out. “Look at this as a chance to actually save some money. And then, a few years down the line, you can go back to freelancing or making art or...or whatever you want! Once you have a stable foundation.”

Max sucks in a breath. She wants to tell him that it’s only been a few months. That she’s making progress, if not money. That she’s learning valuable skills, that she is getting her name out there, that her break will come sooner or later. Max wants to tell him to believe in her talent, but why would he when Max doesn’t?

“It...yeah, it makes sense. Maybe…”

“It definitely makes sense.” He doesn’t try to hide the relief in his voice. Maybe he doesn’t even notice it’s there. Max does. “I wish I could tell you to keep following your dreams, kiddo, but we can’t really...we can’t support you out there any longer, Max. But, I think, I think this will be a good thing. For all of us! Your mom misses you. Obviously I can’t say that I do, let alone that I miss you more, but I can’t help it if you somehow end up thinking that’s true…”

Max almost smiles. “I do miss you guys,” she whispers, blotting out tears with the heel of her hand. “I don’t...I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Maxine. You are not a burden. You hear me? Don’t ever think that. It’s just...it’s been months. We don’t have the...it’s time. To come home. For now, at least. Okay? You’re only twenty-three, Max! You’ve got so much ahead of you. Remember, there are no setbacks! There are only…”

He pauses expectantly.

“Switchbacks,” Max whispers. She clears her throat. “Switchbacks on the road.”

“That’s my girl. It may take longer, but you’ll get where you’re meant to be.”

“Thanks, dad,” Max murmurs. “I...I’ll think about it, okay? I’ll look up buses and stuff. I, uh, I gotta go now, though. I’ve got to...there’s a birthday party thing I’m gonna shoot today.” For a ten year old whose mother took a chance on one of the flyers Max taped to a lamppost last month. “And I’ve got to sort out a portfolio for a magazine, so…”

“Oh, yeah? What magazine?”

Max bites her lip. “...Unmasked.”

“The superhero thing? Isn’t that kinda...tabloid?”

Max’s lip turns white under the pressure of her teeth. She forces her mouth open. “No. It’s a serious publication.” In fact, it’s a glossy gossip factory sprinkled with the odd interview and highbrow cultural commentator trying to make sense of the hero phenomenon. Max is more likely to be doing coffee runs than using her camera, too, but she isn’t about say that to her dad. Not right now. “It’s just an internship, but they pay for pictures of heroes. I, uh, it’s something I’ve been thinking about getting into for a while.”

“Huh. I didn’t think you cared much about the hero scene.” He pauses. Max can hear him breathing, though, so at least he isn’t covering up another sigh. “Max…I hope this pans out. I do. But if it doesn’t…”

“Yeah. I hear you, dad. Thanks for...thanks for looking out for me.”

“No thanks needed. It’s my job! And Max?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you. An embarrassing amount, frankly. Let me know about the...magazine thing, and let me know if you need help with the bus ticket. Okay? If, uh, if it comes to that!”

“...okay. Love you, dad.”

Max hangs up, cutting off his response. She tosses her phone aside and hugs Captain to her chest. It took her so long to work up the courage to come to LA looking for work. It took her whole life, all the way through college, to build up belief in her photography, belief that she could cut it as an artist, belief that she could make a living with more commercial applications of her skill.

It’s taken less than five months to whittle away all of her confidence and expose the truth of who Max is: she’s just another young hopeful among thousands, no better than any of them, likely worst than most. How many of the other people like her are lying around crying and hugging their fucking teddy bear instead of chasing down every possible opportunity they can?

Max is a failure. She’s pathetic.

From somewhere under her tangled comforter, her phone starts chiming an alarm.

Max groans. She might be a failure, but she’s a failure who needs to show up for a kid’s tenth birthday party. Max can’t ruin that, too. So with an effort, she drags herself out of bed, hurries through breakfast and a shower and packs up her camera gear.

She’s on the verge of leaving when she remembers her portfolio. Max hesitates, checks the time, then sighs. It seems pointless to make the effort. She’s tried so many times, with so many other publications, and she doesn’t really want to work for Unmasked. But...but if she doesn’t at least send in the application, she knows that it’s the only thing she’ll think about on the bus to Seattle, and every day afterwards.

Max takes ten minutes to tweak her standard cover letter, then uploads it along with the last portfolio she put together to Unmasked’s site. It’s a half-assed effort, but at least she can say she tried.

She makes more of an effort at the birthday party, and actually has a pretty good time. It’s certainly better than any party she’s been to since she became, by numerical reckoning at least, an adult. Max tries not to dwell on what that says about her, and just takes comfort in the fact that she has money for food this week in one jacket pocket and a large slice of birthday cake in a ziplock bag in the other.

The night is young and seems rich in possibilities until the man with the shotgun decides to hold up the convenience store Victoria Chase is in. This was only meant to be a brief detour to acquire cigarettes and candy, but now it looks like Victoria’s whole night is about to be derailed. She stops trying to work out how much chocolate she’ll be able to carry in the pockets of her hoodie--while still leaving room for a pack of cigarettes--and watches the idiot attempt his robbery.

He barges up to the owner of the store, holding the shotgun in shaking hands, and stammers, “The re-register! Give it to m-me! I mean, fuck, the money! NOW!”

There’s some irony in the fact that he’s wearing a mask, Victoria supposes. She is, too, of course, in the form of her hoodie and sunglasses. Both of them want their anonymity, and things they’re not supposed to have. Both of them are going to fuck tonight up for each other.

Victoria could ignore this, of course. The gunman is shooting panicky looks around him, and he’s so unfocused that his shotgun isn’t even pointing directly at the old man behind the counter. The gunman isn’t likely to bother Victoria or any of the other customers in here. He isn’t looking to hurt anyone, and--barring an accident or reckless stupidity--it’s unlikely that anyone is going to die here. Victoria could ignore this, and she could slip away into the night before the police come, and she could go ahead with her clubbing plans.

But she won’t. It only takes one camera, one witness, one person seeing through her disguise and asking why she didn’t act, and then Victoria Chase will come under the wrong kind of scrutiny. The kind of scrutiny that could destroy her reputation, that could destroy her.

“Fuck my life,” Victoria mutters. “I mean, what are the fucking odds?”

Victoria checks her reservoirs as she walks quietly up the aisle towards the robber. It’s more of a reflex than a concern: she has more than enough juice to deal with this idiot. It would be nice to do this anonymously and disappear, but there’s no real way of making that work. Too many witnesses. Since she’s doing this, and appearances matter, Victoria takes her sunglasses off and tucks them into a pocket. She unzips the hoodie and shrugs it off. She’s wearing a white crop top underneath. It isn’t perfect, but at least the colour is on brand.

The old man behind the counter catches sight of her as she clears the shelves. His eyes widen in surprise. The gunman snatches a handful of notes from the old man’s shaking hand, seems to realise from his expression that something’s wrong, and spins to face Victoria. He swings the shotgun round, aiming the muzzle at Victoria’s chest, his finger tightening on the trigger…

Victoria lets a little of the power she has stored flow into her from her reservoirs, and everything seems to slow down around her as her body speeds up. She lunges forward, crossing the last couple of feet to the unfortunate robber, and seizes the barrel of the gun with one hand. Victoria twists the shotgun so that the muzzle is aimed at the ceiling and the robber’s trigger finger is jammed against the trigger guard. Victoria puts her other hand on the idiot’s shoulder and shoves.

Everything reverts to normal speed. The robber yells in shock, though it changes to pain when Victoria’s shove makes his back hit the grubby linoleum and his trigger finger breaks against the unyielding metal of his weapon. Victoria might get into some trouble for that later, but right now she’s firmly of the opinion: fuck this guy.

Victoria leans over and yanks the hockey mask off of his face. “Hi, there! Do you know who I am?”

He whimpers, then nods frantically.

“So we’re done here, right?”

He nods again. He eases his injured hand away from the shotgun, relinquishing it to Victoria, then rolls over and puts his hands on his head.

Victoria resists sighing. She safeties the gun and puts it on the counter. She puts on a smile for the shaking old man as she pulls Taylor’s phone out of her pocket. “Can you handle the call to the police?”

“I...I, of course! Thank you! Thank you so much, I--”

“That’s great!” Victoria says, hoping it doesn’t sound as insincere to him as it does to her. “I’d do it myself, but, you know…”

To her surprise, he laughs, and his shaking subsides. He grins at her, pulling himself upright. “You’ve stopped a crime, so it’s selfie time?”

“Exactly!” Victoria raises her phone, and the old man angles himself into the shot, still grinning happily. Victoria throws up a peace sign, smirks into the lens, dies inside, and takes the shot.

The police arrive ten minutes later, driving the rest of her night irrevocably off the rails. By the time she’s done giving her statement, Victoria’s latest selfie has over a thousand likes on Instagram and her father has texted her to let her know that he’s sent a car and that they are going to Have Words.

“Fuck my life,” Victoria whispers through her best fake smile as she waves and leaves the store, heading for the white Mercedes idling across the street. Victoria groans. “I didn’t even get any cigarettes. Fuck my bullshit superhero life.”

#life is strange fanfiction #my writing #lemme know what you think #if you'd be so kind

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fiercyy · 5 years

Text

We Need To Talk

A Viktuuri and Viktuuriyuri family fic <3

When Yuuri receives a text from Victor one morning, he tries very hard not to panic.

Vitenka (Blue heart, purple heart, gold medal, eggplant, hearteyes emoji): We need to talk tonight after dinner with Yura.

Perhaps Yuuri has been exposed to too much pop culture during his time in the States, but to him ‘we need to talk’ never spells out anything good. He resists the urge to immediately text back a thousand questions and demands about what they would be talking about, if he was okay, what Yuuri did wrong and if he would find his own suitcase packed and left by the door, or would he have to pack it all up himself when Viktor kicked him to the curb?

Yuuri had a really good morning. He woke up on his own, which was a miracle unto itself. To celebrate beating Viktor to consciousness, he kissed his fiancé awake. And maybe they were a little late getting out of bed because of it. “I’m sure my coach won’t mind,” Yuuri had teased and touched his nose to Viktor’s, then kissed his cheek. When he pulled away, Viktor was bright pink, from nose to ears and his smile was soppy and sweet. “You can’t say things like that!” Viktor had complained before throwing his arms around Yuuri, “It’s too adorable, I won’t survive. You’re trying to kill me aren’t you? Is this so I won’t make you do suicides again? I knew it! My Yuuri is so cruel!” All the while, smothering Yuuri by rolling on top of him.

A really good morning. They’d skipped their run because of it, went straight to the rink (where Yuuri and Viktor both cleanly skated their new programs for the first time). Then lunch together before parting ways for cross training.

That was fifteen minutes ago. What could have changed that Viktor could possibly want to talk about?! Or maybe it was about lunch or practice or this morning and he just hadn’t worked up the courage to talk to him yet. Maybe he’s been plotting a way to let him down easy. If so, Yuuri feels terrible about this morning, but also, incredibly glad that at least he’ll have one last time to remember him by.

But maybe it wasn’t as good for Viktor as it was for Yuuri? If Yuuri was doing something wrong, why wouldn’t Viktor just tell him? He could get better, probably. He hears there are advice columns all over the internet. He listens to podcasts on long runs now, there must be one that tells you how to be better in bed so your five-time gold medalist, perfect specimen of manhood fiancé stays in love with you.

“Katsudon, you’ve been in that forward split for ten minutes, are you showing off or did you fall asleep?” Yurio is sharing his ballet session. He hides his worry poorly. Or maybe Yuuri just knows him well at this point. His heart sinks. He’ll miss him so much when Viktor dumps him and he has to move back to Hasetsu and retire.

Yuuri shrugs and hopes he doesn’t pry further. The sixteen-year-old doesn’t. Instead he nudges him into pair stretches.

The anxiety chews on his heart, feral and unrelenting in its hunger. Yuuri’s own mind won’t rest until it consumes him one rending bite at a time.

While he does a pas de bourré into a plié, then saute, he circles back to the way he felt when Viktor first came to Hasetsu. He’d wondered then, how this could possibly be his life. He kept his distance out of self-preservation, because when Viktor eventually grew bored and left, any closeness would be ripped away, taking parts of him along with it. Yuuri could not afford to become dependent on Viktor’s kindness. Or later, Viktor’s love. Except it didn’t matter what Yuuri could and could not afford to feel. His foolish heart learned to beat for him, to the rhythm of the programs they choreographed together.

Yuuri’s stupid soul would suffer now that the inevitable had arrived.

Yurio clearly doesn’t want to leave Yuuri alone. Their cooldown session is quiet and punctuated by the boy starting a sentence and interrupting himself. It’s unlike him. Yuuri wants to pull him into his arms. That’s unlike him too.

“Stop looking at me like that. It’s freaking me out,” Yurio spits. “Why do you look like someone died? Is the idiot—” he means Viktor, “Ill?” he seems unconcerned by the prospect, but then he pales as something occurs to him, “Are you ill? Is Makkachin?”

And because Yuuri does not want to lie to him, but also does not want to tell him the truth at all ever, he throws his hands up and shakes his head. “No, no, nothing like that. Just in my own head today.” This is true every day, but it would be impossible to explain the day to day torment of living inside of his own brain. Plus, it might traumatize Yurio and make him second guess his decision to allow Yuuri and Viktor to ostensibly, semi-non-officially adopt him. Oh no… who gets to keep Yurio in the divorce?

Divorce? Oh god. Divorced before they’ve even made it to the altar. Maybe, now that Viktor is feeling inspired and skating again, he doesn’t need Yuuri in his life after all.

Yurio neatly answers the question of ‘who gets custody in the divorce’ by dragging him out the door and declaring that he’s going to drive Yuuri’s car home. Maybe custody is relative and Yurio takes care of himself.

He’s supposed to be supervising said driving since Yurio technically does not have a license, but instead Yuuri stares on the passenger window until he gets nauseous and has to close his eyes. The car stops and he opens them to find they’re at a grocery store.

“Your moron husband forgot to pick up garlic.”

“Not married,” he says and swallows down the bitter yet that gets stuck in his throat.

Yurio groans, “Have you not gotten that over with yet?” He knows very well that they haven’t. They once joked about eloping, which Yurio pretended not to have an apoplectic fit over. Viktor promises they’ll make Yurio their flower boy. Privately, Yuuri eggs him on because he knows that deep down, beyond the fury, he’s actually very touched.

Yurio takes one look at him and rolls his eyes, “Wait in the car,” he orders and slams the door. Yuuri listens and tries to take on the terrible spiralling tornado of fear. He needs to at least find the eye because it’s starting to suck the oxygen out of everything.

We need to talk we need to talk we need to talk we need to-

Soon, the door opens again and Yurio slides in. “Finally, the line was so-“ Yuuri startles and realizes there are tears on his cheeks. “Why are you crying?! Stop it!” He’s still not very good with Emotions™, but he’s doing his best. Yuuri and Viktor just have so many between them, it’s unreasonable to expect him to keep up. Generally, when the tears arrive, Yurio shoves him into Viktor’s arms. Yuuri’s not keen on that option at this moment.

They make it home with only a few awkward glances between them. The teen has his own key so he lets them in.

Yuuri doesn’t know what he was expecting to find upon returning home.

(Lies. As previously noted, he expected suitcases and packed bags and Viktor’s solemn face as he handed the ring back. He imagined kindness and pity but not love in his eyes. He wondered which would be his problem, if he’d be able to beg or be able to stop himself from begging. He knows he’d have cried, he doesn’t know if he’d have been able to speak at all.)

But Viktor is bustling around the kitchen, singing to himself. In the span of this moment, Yuuri exists outside of his worries. Ten feet away, the love of his life is making a family recipe that Hiroko passed on to him. He sings, and Yuuri’s not so far gone that he thinks Viktor a nightingale, but he loves the sound all the same. His bangs are clipped back behind his ear, his cheeks are rosy from the warmth of the stove. He dances around the kitchen, swaying his hips to the rhythm in his head. Then Yuuri realizes that he hasn’t looked up because he’s wearing headphones and hasn’t heard them yet.

Yurio aggressively removes his hat and launches it at Viktor in one motion. The older man startles and catches it, right before it falls onto a burner. “Vot tye na!” But then he sees them and his whole face lights up. It’s like watching dawn break over the mountains back. “You’re home!”

He’s not going to leave him. When Viktor looks at him, it’s hard for Yuuri to deny that he is loved because Viktor lays it all out in the open. He has never hidden his regard or intentions for even a moment. He loves wholly and without reservation.

The moment ends. The demons pipe up. Yuuri has been wrong before.

He tells himself all the things his therapist told him to. That he is safe. He is loved. He can trust the people around him. He’s going to be okay.

Dinner is a trial. Yuuri usually loves these dinners and he’s furious with himself for ruining what might be their last one. Because Viktor wants to talk. He gets quieter and quieter and shrinks down into his chair until he can’t take it anymore.

Viktor keeps the conversation going. He is cheerful and upbeat, but he keeps sneaking glances Yuuri’s way. Can he not wait to get this over with? Is he itching to be rid of him? He’s bad company, he knows it. He should be a better host, for Yurio at least. Who wants to be with someone who’s always sad and anxious, dragging down everyone around them. Viktor asks about Yurio’s day like the proud dad he is. Viktor would make such a good dad. In the vague way that he considers his future after skating, Yuuri hoped he’d get to co-parent with him someday. Again. From the beginning. Not that having a 15-year-old rage monster drop into their laps wasn’t a blessing. Maybe that’s part of it, who knows? He wouldn’t choose himself as a co-parent either.

Viktor holds his phone aloft, loudly reading all of Otabek’s tweets that Yurio has liked in the past 48 hours, while the kid tries to climb him like a tree to steal it and throw it down the garbage disposal. “Give it here old man, at least my twitter’s not some disgusting shrine to Katsudon like yours is-!”

“No, you took down the shrine to Yuuri in your locker when we moved to St-Petersburg!” He teases, “Is the one in your room at your Zaida’s house still up?”

“SHUT UP!”

And that’s all it takes, it’s all over for Yuuri. He starts to laugh and he starts to cry and the two men in his life stop roughhousing immediately, to stare at him in abject horror. They’ve both gotten better at dealing with crying, in their own ways, but they’re still terrible. They glance at each other, then back at him, then back at each other.

“Hey! Don’t cry! Look what you did asshole, you made Katsudon emotional!”

“Yuuri, oh no, are you okay? What should I do? Do you need-?”

Yuuri hiccups and tries to calm down, but he’s suddenly hyperventilating. “I…hic…I’m just…hic… I’m so happy,” he sobs. “I don’t want this to end.”

“Twice in one day? Why are you always crying?”

Viktor looks nonplussed, “You were crying earlier? He was crying earlier? When?” his gaze switches back and forth between the two Yuris, worry blooming like a bruise. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Yurio doesn’t seem to know what to do. He can’t drive himself home and he clearly does not want to be here for this conversation. He pushes back from the table, and because he was raised right, he takes his plate with him and deposits it in the dishwasher. “I’ll be in the guest room, he better not be crying when I come out.” It seems silly to Yuuri, to refer to it as the guest room, when he’s the only one who ever stays in it.

He was worried before, but now Viktor looks panicked, “Yuuri…”

“What did you want to talk about?” he says in a rush. He wants to get this over with. He doesn’t want to get this over with.

Viktor ignores the question.

“Zolotse,” Viktor switches to the chair closest to Yuuri and scoots it even closer, so he can get his hands on him. “Why are you crying if you’re happy?”

Yuuri accepts the hug, lets himself succumb to it, “Because I want to keep it. I don’t want anything to change. Please just… can we not talk about this?”

Viktor pulls away suddenly, violently, to look him in the eye. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, I just thought…” He closes his mouth and looks grim. “Never mind. It’s fine. Forget I said anything. Everything is fine. I am fine.”

Yuuri is not convinced. Viktor’s pain enables Yuuri to function in a way he can’t for himself. He wants to reach out, to comfort him now. Why is Viktor’s heart breaking before his very eyes?

“Wait,” he orders, grabbing his hand to keep him from running away. “I’m sorry. Anything you need to tell me, you can tell me. I’ll listen, I’ll always listen to you. What did you want to tell me?”

“It’s not about getting married,” Viktor swears, and it’s a crack in poor Yuuri’s resolve to listen. It’s cruel of him, to reject him so blatantly though. “I promise I won’t pressure you. Whenever you’re ready. I know I said when you win gold, but just because you won doesn’t mean we have to. You owe me five after all,” Panicked, “I’m joking! Everything can stay exactly the same. I’m lucky to have that much. I won’t ask for more, I won’t.”

“…So… you don’t want to marry me.” He thought he was prepared, but he was not.

Viktor once accused him of willfully misunderstanding him when they fight. He reminds him of this now. “That is not what I said! I’ve wanted to marry you since the day we met. You can even ask Chris. I said that to him. At the banquet I told him, ‘I am going to marry that man, unless he is straight. Please Chris, tell me that he is not straight because I will cry’, I swear.”

“So you’re not leaving me?” Yuuri is wary of getting his hopes up.

“Leave you?!?!”

The way he says it makes Yuuri defensive, like he’s being ridiculous. “You texted me that we need to talk!”

“Yes. Admittedly, your English is better, but how does that translate to breaking up?”

“Everyone knows that ‘we need to talk’ is code for ‘it’s not me, it’s you’, which is code for ‘it’s definitely you’!”

“What.” Viktor scratches his nose. “This is an American thing?”

“Yes.”

“So what do you say if you really just need to talk about something?”

This gives Yuuri pause, because he actually doesn’t know. He shrugs, “Not fucking that.” He might still be a little hysterical.

“Yuuuuuuuriiiiii!”

He sighs, “You know how my mind can be. I guess when I read your text, it got away from me, I thought of the worst case scenario and I spiralled.”

“Okay,” of course, Viktor is ever on a quest to be accommodating of Yuuri’s mental illness. “Then I won’t do that. I won’t prepare you. I’ll just surprise you!”

Wait. Is that worse? That might be worse.

“Surprise! I want to get a puppy! Thoughts?”

“What about Makka?”

“I think Makka could use a little brother or sister! She gets so lonely.” Upon hearing her name, Makkachin, who is very spoiled for attention, woofs from her fancy premium dog bed and prances over to join them. She drops her chin on Yuuri’s thigh, in an oddly accurate representation of her dad’s pout. “Look at her Yuuri, don’t you want another?”

He can’t believe he questioned whether or not Viktor wanted to co-parent with him. They share custody of a poodle.

“And the angriest kitten in all the land!” Viktor adds, when Yuuri verbalizes this.

“HEY!” They all jump and spin around. Yurio stands in the kitchen, holding a cup of water, peering suspiciously over the rim. “You better not be talking about me!”

They are definitely talking about him.

Later, they’re halfway through a movie and Yurio is asleep on the other couch. Viktor and Yuuri snuggle beneath a blanket and Makkachin snoozes on the ottoman by their feet. “I love you,” Viktor says into Yuuri’s hair, “And I want things to change,” he admits bravely. “But only if you want those things too.”

“More dogs?”

They smile.

“More dogs, more rings, more moody teenagers maybe?”

“Can we get those as puppies too?” Yuuri asks, lips against Viktor’s temple.

“Yuuri!” he cries in delight, “Are you asking me to be your baby daddy?”

“YOU TWO ARE DISGUSTING!”

Oops. The kitten is awake after all.

#viktuuri #victuuri #yuri on ice #yoi #viktuuriyuri #yuri!!! on ice #fanfiction #anxiety #yoi fanfiction #texting #my fic #yuri plisetsky #yuuri katsuki #viktor nikiforov #katsudon

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perlukafarinn · 7 years

Note

How about Dean and Cas as University professors? Where one is a leather-jacket-wearing, motorcycle-driving badass and the other wears sweater vests and dorky glasses? And none of their students realize they're married until some event happens that ends with someone witnessing them kissing goodbye in front of one of their offices?

Gossiping is a powerfulurge. University students are by no means exempt from it, despite ostensiblybeing intelligent adults. So when one sunny Monday morning, Professor Novakshows up to class with a visible hickey on the side of his neck, the rumor millgoes spinning out of control.

Because, yeah, Novak isgood looking but he’s always seemed kind of… untouchable. Like a monk, but ahot one.

His classes are smallbut everyone knows who Novak is so by early evening the whole campus has beenmade aware of The Hickey. Once people have gotten over the fact of its mereexistence, the conversation turns to who could possibly have made it.

Maeve isn’t particularlyinterested in the answer but she gets sucked into the conversation anyway thefollowing morning, as she and her friends wait for Professor Winchester’slecture to start. “It’s got to be Professor Milton, right? They’re alwaystogether.”

“She’s married,” Siobhandismisses, because she’s always on top of these things. The fact that shedoesn’t know the identity of Novak’s mystery lover seems to really gall her. “Andher wife is smoking hot, if she cheated it wouldn’t be with Professor SweaterVest.”

Marie shrugs. “I don’tknow, the sweater vests are kind of cute.”

“I’m gonna pretend youdidn’t say that.”

“What about ProfessorMasters?” Maggie suggests.

Siobhan considers thisfor a moment. “I mean, I guess, but can you really picture the two of themtogether? I know opposites attract and all but still…”

“It isn’t necessarily awoman,” Kristen says, which, point. “Or a professor.”

It’s at this point thatProfessor Winchester enters the lecture hall. Normally, his presence is enoughto get their attention. He’s one of those guys who knows he’s handsome and he’snot above using this to his advantage. The leather jacket doesn’t hurt, nor themotorcycle helmet he usually carries in his right hand, knocking casuallyagainst his hip.

Today, none of them somuch as glance his way.

For a moment, he standsat his desk, waiting for them to stop talking. When they don’t, he knockssharply on his desk, startling them.

He smiles easily, andfor a moment all gossip about Professor Novak’s love life is a distant memory. “What’sso important that you can’t stop talking about it? Did you start on the topicwithout me?”

“We’re trying to figureout who Professor Novak is hooking up with,” Siobhan replies, because she’sabsolutely shameless.

Winchester pinches hislips together, like he’s trying not to laugh. “Oh?”

And because Siobhanalways has to press her luck, “Do you know?”

“That’s, uh-” Winchesterclears his throat. “That’s not really appropriate for me to discuss with you.”

“So yes.”

“Okay!” Winchester clapshis hands. “I hope everyone did their reading, because we’re diving right intoEllison’s Flying Home. Who wants tostart?”

By the end of the week,Novak’s hickey has mostly faded and so have the rumors. That weekend Marie getsdrunk at a party and spends an hour making out with Kevin Tran, which gives themsomething new to talk about. The Novak Hickey mystery seems poised to go onunsolved.

Then, the next Monday,Professor Novak shows up to class with not one but two hickeys, and just like that the rumors go flying again.

Maggie stands fast byher theory that it has to be Professor Masters, arguing that she definitely hasthe hots for him (“She calls him Clarence. Who gives cutesy nicknames like thatunless they like somebody?”). Most of the rest of them figure it’s someoneoutside of school, which is more likely though less interesting.

Kristen, meanwhile, getsit in her head that it’s Professor Winchester, based on his reaction when theybrought up the topic.

The rest of them arequick to shoot that theory down.

“They have nothing incommon,” Maggie says, which is rich given that she thinks he’s hooking up withMasters.

“Professor Novak hatesmotorcycles,” Maeve adds. “He says they’re deathtraps.”

Siobhan shrugsapologetically. “It’s just not a lot to go on, babe.”

“Besides,” Marie says, “ProfessorWinchester has a boyfriend. I’ve seen him hanging around his office. He’sreally tall and he’s got gorgeous hair.”

They move on to theirnext theory, that Professor Novak is hooking up with a student (highlyunlikely, but perfectly scandalous if it is happening). It’s possible they’respending way too much time and effort on this subject but hey, it’s either thator work on their mid-term essays and no one actually wants to do that.

It’s during a Thursdaylecture a couple of weeks later, when Novak’s hickeys have finally faded onlyto be replaced by yet another one, that one of them grows frustrated with themystery and actually brings it up with Novak.

His expression goesabsolutely blank at the question. “You want to know who I’m…”

“Hooking up with,” Mariehelpfully repeats. “Or dating, if you prefer.”

It’s possible that thefreedom of college might have finally gone to her head. No one talks this way to Professor Novak. Professor Winchester orMasters, sure, because they’re fun and casual (Winchester even lets them callhim Dean), but Novak is too structured for that.

“I am not hooking upwith nor dating anyone,” Novak says slowly, brows furrowed in confusion. “And Iam at a loss as to how that relates to our topic.”

“We’ve just beenwondering,” Marie says. “What with the love bites.”

Novak’s hand shoots upto cover his neck, and then he’s actually blushing.“I, ah, was not aware that you had noticed.” He clears his throat. “Regardless,it is no concern of yours.”

Which is his polite wayof saying, mind your own goddamn business.Marie takes the hint, and the topic gets dropped.

The rumors fizzle outafter that. Clearly, Professor Novak is uncomfortable with them butting intohis personal life, and knowing that kind of takes the fun out of gossipingabout it. The hickeys also stop showing up.

Nearly a month later,Siobhan and Kristen are heading for his office after hours.

“It’s way too late,”Siobhan complains as her girlfriend drags her down the hall by the hand. “He’sprobably home by now.”

“I saw his car in theparking lot,” Kristen says. “And I need to talk to him today, I just missed hisregular office hours because someone wasdistracting me.”

“I can’t help it if I’madorable.”

Kristen elbows her side.“You’re a menace, is what you are.”

“Damn straight,” Siobhansays with a satisfied grin. “Or should I say damn-”

Kristen stops short justpast the corner, causing Siobhan to bump into her. She’s about to complain,when she sees what caused Kristen to stop.

Professor Novak isstanding outside his office, arms wrapped around and lips very much engagedwith Professor Winchester, who has him pressed against the doors.

“No way,” Siobhan breathes.

“Hah!” Kristen exclaims.

Winchester pulls awayabruptly, both men going red when they notice the girls. For a moment, all fourof them are engaged in an awkward staring contest.

“…I’m afraid officehours are over,” Novak eventually says.

“You lied!” Siobhanblurts. She catches herself moments after, deeply mortified at having justcalled out her professor aboutrightly keeping his personal life private.

Winchester, at least,doesn’t seem outraged at her audacity so much as amused. “You lying to yourstudents about me, Cas?”

Cas – freaking Cas – frowns. “I don’t remember doingthat.”

“You said you weren’thooking up with or dating anyone,” Siobhan reminds him, because in for a penny.

“Oh, yes,” Novak says. “Iwasn’t lying. Dean and I aren’t hooking up, we’re married.”

“What, those aremutually exclusive?” Winchester asks. “We get hitched and the romance dies?”

“I’d hardly call ‘hookingup’ romantic.”

“I would! You’re stillsaved in my contacts under ‘booty call’, you know.”

Novak’s cheeks go evenredder. “This is hardly appropriate,” he says, gesturing at Kristen and Siobhan.

“Right, sorry.”Winchester grimaces. “Uh, you girls won’t tell anyone about this?”

“We won’t,” Kristenassures him.

“But if you didn’t wantanyone to know, maybe you shouldn’t have kept giving your husband hickeys,”Siobhan suggests dryly. “Especially after we asked you about them.”

Novak turns to hishusband – his freaking husband –expression an icy calm. “You knew?”

“Uh…” Winchester gives him a weak smile. “In my defense, it was really funny.”

“Why don’t you head onhome,” Novak says, turning to the girls. “I need to speak to my husband inprivate.”

He doesn’t wait forWinchester to respond, but opens the doors to his office, waving him inside.Kristen and Siobhan are left alone in the hallway, still reeling from what justhappened.

“So,” Siobhan says aftera long moment. “You were right.”

“Of course I was.”Kristen tugs at her hand, and they head back down the hall the way they came. “Ijust hope you didn’t get Professor Winchester in too much trouble.”

“He had it coming.”Siobhan gives her a devious grin. “And I bet he’s not even in any trouble. They’reprobably about to have some really kinky sex on Professor Novak’s desk.”

“Gross,” Kristen whines.“I did not need that mental image.”

#cas-the-wise #avyssoseleison #deancas #spn fanfic #destiel #kristen x siobhan #oops sorry this is so late #i almost finished this fill #then my computer crashed and i lost all of it #got disheartened #and started again today completely from scratch #i like this more then the original direction i went with anyway #and i hope you do too!#prompt fill #perlukafarinn writes #au fic #fave

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la-knight · 6 years

Photo

Books I Read in 2018: The Girl from the Well by Rin Chupeco

A dead girl walks the streets. She hunts murderers. Child killers, much like the man who threw her body down a well three hundred years ago. And when a strange boy bearing stranger tattoos moves into the neighborhood so, she discovers, does something else. And soon both will be drawn into the world of eerie doll rituals and dark Shinto exorcisms that will take them from American suburbia to the remote valleys and shrines of Aomori, Japan. Because the boy has a terrifying secret - one that would just kill to get out.

“You may think me biased, being murdered myself. But my state of being has nothing to do with the curiosity toward my own species, if we can be called such. We do not go gentle, as your poet encourages, into that good night.”

Okay, first I need to say that yes, I’ve seen The Ring, and yes, I hated it. I’m easily scared. I don’t like horror movies except for very particular examples (Nightmare on Elm Street 3, The Village…kind of, Dark Angel: The Ascent, Hellraiser, Innocent Blood, Subspecies II and Subspecies III). But for some reason I felt compelled to read The Girl from the Well, even though I was pretty sure it was going to scare me; I used to be a big RL Stine fan, but he’s nothing compared to the horror coming into YA now.

So I got my mom to order TGFTW for me back in 2017 and when it arrived I was astounded by how thin it was. This won’t be so bad, I decided. I can finish it in a couple hours, get the scary over with, just like in the good old days of my misspent youth with my Fear Street books.

Ha. Ha ha. Ha ha ha ha ha.

First of all, it took me three weeks to read this book, and not just because I was working 50+ hours a week. It’s scary. Duh. It’s a horror novel. It’s about the ghost of a murdered girl who kills people and a boy who’s possessed by a demon. It’s like Naruto meets The Ring but without the ninjas and adding in a dash of Inuyasha. That didn’t make it better! So scary!!!

However…I loved this book. Okiku helped me stop having nightmares about that creepy kid from the movie, and she really makes you feel for her. Her life sucked and her unlife is…well, it doesn’t suck per se, but you can tell she’s a bit lonely. And so angry. But duh, of course she is. She was murdered by someone she loved and trusted. She’s still struggling with that, and I think part of that makes her really relatable as well.

I know what it’s like to have something awful happen to you (I mean, I was never murdered, obviously, but still). And I know what it’s like to try to scrape your life back together and claw your way out of the darkness and shame and anger that those moments dragged you into. I know what it’s like for those things to leave permanent scars on you, to give you triggers. I totally, TOTALLY got Okiku in a way I didn’t expect to, both because of my unfortunate exposure at 13 to The Ring and because the book is so surprisingly short.

I also want to add something. I don’t know if Rin Chupeco has ever read the short web comic, “Trigger Warning: Breakfast.”

I’m going to say right now before we continue with this review, TRIGGER WARNING: RAPE MENTION.

It’s not in the book, but it’s relevant. In “Trigger Warning: Breakfast,” which I ran across on Tumblr a few years ago, the author talked about how she was raped and in the morning, afterward, she made breakfast for her rapist in an attempt to normalize/erase the violation and violence of what happened. It was a really interesting, raw, and terrible look at victim-blaming and psychological triggers.

I don’t know if Rin Chupeco has ever heard of this web comic. What I liked, and I have no idea if they did this on purpose, is how they incorporated what might seem like strange or ridiculous triggers into their work and made them 100% valid. Okiku is a character from a Japanese myth about nine plates belonging to a lord of some kind and one of the plates is missing and ostensibly that’s why she’s murdered but it’s actually for a completely different reason and the lord who kills her is just a sexist homicidal asshole. In The Girl from the Well, Okiku is triggered by the number nine. When nine comes up in a situation, she panics, goes full-on poltergeist, starts breaking things, and basically loses herself to her fear and anger.

She is never shamed for this. She is never made an object of fear for this (the male lead’s aunt is afraid of her because she looks like a drowned zombie, but not for being triggered). She is never shown as being illogical or ridiculous or childish or evil for this. Her psychological damage is portrayed as very real and valid and Tarq, the male lead, is careful of it. And when things get tough, Okiku actually uses her trigger to fight against the villain, knowing that if she puts herself in a blind panic, she can go head to head with this woman because she won’t hold back. I like that not only is her PTSD treated with all the validity it deserves, but she uses it as a tool. She struggles with it, but uses it, too.

Now, let’s talk about my boy Tarq. He’s a good kid. I love him. He’s nice to have around, but he doesn’t really do much. It’s not really his story. It’s Okiku’s. And I’m okay with that. He’s there to be her mission, kind of, and her moral support, mostly. Kind of like the girlfriend of a male superhero. I like that, too.

The book is scary. Duh. But it’s also beautiful and brilliant and I love it. Okiku is strong and fierce and angry and loving and flawed and ready. She rescues and avenges the innocent, saves Tarquin, and looks awesome while doing it (even when she’s all bloated and drowned; she’s not Lon Cheney in Phantom of the Opera for crying out loud). I love Okiku and I loved this book. Even though it scared me a lot. The plot was pretty straightforward and simple, but the characterization was perfection.

Now I have to read The Suffering, which is the sequel, but the cover is scary and I’m scared and I don’t wanna. :(

World Building: 1 star Realism: 1 star Characterization: 1 star Word Choice: ¾ star Plot: ¾ star

+¾ star because Okiku’s psychological health

- ¼ star because Tarq’s aunt, the villain, ended up possessed because she was too prideful in her job as a shrine maiden

Total score: 5/5 stars

Would I Recommend: If you can handle the scary and the triggers, most definitely.

Would I Buy It: I did, and I do not regret doing so. I just wish the sequel had a less creepy cover. :’(

Photos do not belong to me and are the property of movie studios, museums, fashion magazines, Rin Chupeco, or online stores, unless I found them listed as being in the public domain.

#books of 2018 #book reviews #aesthetic #The Girl from the Well #Rin Chupeco #The Ring

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ellanainthetardis · 7 years

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i have a Prompt for the queen : Jo asks Effie for advice about a man she likes or a crush or something

Here you go! [X] or [X]

Always Love

Plutarch’s house was impressive and everythingEffie would have aspired to once upon a time. Five years after the war though,she found it… lacking. It was tooostensibly grand, not quite as cold and soulless as her parents’ house had beenbut close enough that she felt uncomfortable in it.

The crux of the matter, she decided as sheslipped away from the room where everyone was gathered to get some air on thebalcony, was that she missed Twelve and their home even if they hadn’t beengone for more than two days by that point.

It would be a long week, she mused. A very, very long week.

She just hoped they would survive this fifthanniversary of the rebellion.

The garden at the back of the house was small,which was not surprising given that the house was in the heart of the city, andthere wasn’t much to see in the dark aside for the high hedge that separatedthem from the neighbor’s property.

She leaned against the stone balustrade andlistened to the echoes of voices inside. Plutarch’s and Fulvia’s dominated, ofcourse, trying to pretend everything was fine just like they had been from thestart of the evening. The tensions though…

Katniss and Peeta had remained in Twelve,declining to attend on the condition that they would make a filmed apparitionat the local celebrations. Annie had been spared the chore on account on herson but she would be expected to show up on camera in Four too.

The rest of them hadn’t been granted the sameliberty. Well, aside for her whohadn’t been invited and strongly advised to stay as far away from cameras asshe could manage. It had enraged Haymitch to the point he had clearly statedthat he would come with her at his arm or not at all. Apparently, they weremore interested in parading Haymitch around than in keeping the last breathingescort from the public.

Still, Haymitch hadn’t wanted to come in thefirst place, had dragged his feet all the way and she could understand him.

Cressida and Polux, at least, were happy to bethere and to see everyone. Gale Hawthorne seemed equally content to seeeveryone again – except for her, who he had not only ignored but been as rudeto as he could get away with when Haymitch was glaring at him. It suited Effiejust fine, she didn’t really like him. Beetee’s behavior was awkward both withher and Haymitch but she figured it had to do with the Hummingbird Operationthat Twelve’s victor had never forgiven the rebels for. The two of them hadalways been good friends but Effie had the feeling that this friendship wasforever damaged. For the same reasons, Haymitch was cold and distant withPlutarch, treating him more like a colleague than a friend, and in turn it madeFulvia defensive and passive-aggressive. And since she and Fulvia had no lovelost for each other, it made for a tense situation.

“I still say you’re a cheater and one day I’mgonna find out how you do it.” Jo declared, joining her on the balcony.

Effie flashed her an amused smile, glancingback at the sliding doors before fishing a cigarette from the packet Johannawas offering her. Haymitch was busy nodding at whatever Cressida was tellinghim, clearly bored given the way he was making his whiskey twirl in his glass.What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Johanna seemed unconcerned by the less thanstellar evening they were all having – and if Effie had found a way to decline Plutarch’sinvitation to dinner she would havebut, just as he was impossible for the Secretary of Communications not toinvite them, it was impossible for them to refuse without insulting anyone. Thepool table in one of the smallest drawing rooms had been a nice surprise thatthe two of them had jumped on. It had brought back memories. She and Johanna hadhad a habit of playing pool whenever the possibility arose…

… and of Effie kicking her butt – which she hadbeen pleased to notice was still a thing.

“I am simply that good.” she grinned, wedging the cigarette between her lips andcupping her hands around it so Johanna could light it despite the small breeze.

It was a bit too cold to be standing out therewithout a coat for too long but it beat going back inside and facing theawkwardness so she wrapped an arm around her stomach and stomped her right heelto warm her foot. She was glad she had opted for the high-waist dove greytailor pants instead of a skirt even if the lilac blouse she had paired it withwas a little too thin for the weather. The brand new purple shoes she hadbought that afternoon – because there was noway she would come to the city and notdo some shopping, to Haymitch’s utter despair – were killing her and whileit was a familiar sort of ache, it wasn’t one she had felt in a while. Wintersin Twelve required boots to travel through the snow and in summer… Thelandscape wasn’t exactly heels-friendly.

“It’s weird, right?” Johanna cringed aftermaking sure the sliding door was closed and nobody could hear them. She perchedherself on the stone balustrade, her back to the garden, watching what wasgoing on inside. “Too much like before.”

“I know what you mean.” she sighed, flickingashes and resolutely keeping her back to the room.

She didn’t want to see.

Haymitch had been good at keeping his alcoholconsumption to a minimum during the last couple of years. She hadn’t asked himto stop and he had never promised he would but she liked to think they hadfound a compromise that worked for everyone. He went on binges sometimes, baddays happened, she understood that, but for the most part, he kept to two orthree glasses a day. Enough to stop the shakes, not enough to get drunk. It hadbeen a painfully slow process to reduce his daily amount and she was only tooaware of how fragile a balance it was.

They had been back in the city only two daysand already he was compulsively refilling his glass. And tonight… Well, tonightwasn’t helping. By her count, this was his fifth glass of whiskey that evening,not counting the wine at dinner, and she was fairly sure he had already downeda couple before they arrived at Plutarch’s.

The problem, as Johanna had pointed out, wasthat the whole thing was too reminiscent of the Games. A special train had beencommandeered for them by the government, the hotel they had been directed towas as lavish as the penthouse had been, prep teams and stylists had beenassigned to them, there were schedules to follow, a ridiculous amount ofevents, red carpets and parties to attend, people they were expected to knowthe names of… Haymitch hated all of that with passion.

The fact that Effie had been more or less toldto keep a low profile wasn’t helping.

He had stubbornly – and loudly – told Plutarch that he would go nowhere without her and thus the government’s half-cooked plan towhisk her in and out by side doors had been tossed through the window. Effiedid her best to satisfy everyone by staying close to Haymitch but not beingtoo… flamboyant.

“What’s the deal with Haymitch and Beetee?” Joasked.

Effie took a long drag of her cigarette andblew out the smoke, watching it being carried away by the wind. She wasn’t surewhat Johanna knew or not of what had really happened with the Capitol childrenat the City Circle and it wasn’t her place to reveal it. The information wasconfidential for a reason. “They had a disagreement about something. Do notconcern yourself with it.”

Johanna watched her with clear suspicion butthen shrugged and focused on her cigarette for a while. Silence didn’t lastlong though. “Gale doesn’t like you much.”

“You don’t say.” she deadpanned. “It completelyescaped my notice.”

Seven’s victor chuckled. “Can’t blame him. Idon’t like you much either.”

“You like me a little.” she accused with somefondness. She didn’t think she and Johanna would ever manage to be friends inthe traditional sense of the word but… Sharing a cell created bonds that werehard to undo or deny. Sharing a family also made it difficult not to getsomehow closer.

Annie, Johanna and little Finn visited Twelveevery winter so the boy could enjoy some snow and they all spent a week in Fourin summer. It had been a thing for the last four years and if Effie hadanything to say about it, it would continue to be.

“You’re not the worst bitch.” Jo admitted witha wince, as if it was physically painful for her to say as much.

“Why, thankyou.” she replied, rolling her eyes. She took a quick drag before going on.“I am not very fond of him anyway. Not only is he a rude young man but hishistory with Katniss alone…”

“What kind of history are we talking here?”Johanna cut in. “She fucked him?”

Effie hesitated, watching the red glow of hercigarette. “I do not think so. And reallymust you be so vulgar all the time?”

“Then, what?” the victor insisted. “’Cause hewas following her around like a puppy in Thirteen. It was sickening to watch.He had it bad. Maybe not worse thanPeeta but bad.”

“She never discussed it with me.” shecountered. “From what I know he was her best friend and from what I gatheredfrom Haymitch and Peeta, she might have had feelings for him at some point.They had a fallout during the war.”

“And she chose Peeta.” Jo snorted. “Must suckto be the default guy.”

“Peeta is notthe default guy.” she frowned. “And why are you so interested in this all of asudden?”

“Just making sure I’m not stepping on anytoes.” Johanna dismissed. “Not that I care much but I like to know what kind ofmess I’m going in for.”

Effie blinked and then groaned. “Please, do not tell me you plan on seducing GaleHawthorne.”

“Won’t tell you, then.” Jo snickered, crushingher cigarette on the stone balcony only to immediately tug another one from herbattered packet.

“This is a terribleidea.” she warned, crushing the bud of her own cigarette in a similar fashion.She glanced back at the room because she wasn’t sure where to dispose of itproperly but since nobody was paying them any attention and Plutarch had astaff waiting hand on foot on him, she simply tossed it on the floor and nudgedit toward the edge of the balcony. “Truly, Johanna…”

“Not thatterrible.” Seven’s victor cackled and Effie was startled to realize herbrown eyes were sparkling. Johanna’s eyes neversparkled and certainly not like that.“That guy knows how to use his cock.”

“Jo!”she exclaimed in outrage. However her curiosity won over her offended sense ofpropriety. “How do you even know…”

“After the whole execution disaster.” Johannashrugged. “We were stuck here for weeksbefore we were cleared to go to Four, remember?” She remembered little thatdidn’t have to do with Katniss’ trial. That and trying not to let her demonsget the better of her had been her only focus at that time. “He was waiting tobe transferred to his command in Two. He was pissed, I was bored.”

“You slept with him.” she stated just so it wasclear and out there.

“Oh, yeah.”Jo confirmed with a salacious grin and a wriggle of her eyebrows. “Saw himaround a few times too. He came to Four for work a couple of years ago. Istopped in Two on my way to Seven once or twice…”

“You are having an affair with Gale Hawthorne.”she heard herself squeal like a teenager, her eyes wide. She couldn’t have beenmore stunned if Haymitch had come out right there and had asked her to marryhim.

“Not an affair.”the victor denied with a growl. “We just fuck.Sometimes. Used to, at least.”

The happy spark in Johanna’s eyes vanished andthe more familiar scowl was back on her face. The way she took a drag of hercigarette could only be described as angry.

Effie had knownthis meant trouble. Gale Hawthorne was trouble. She was ready to bet he hadbroken up whatever had been going on and had sent her on her merry way now thathe had had whatever he wanted. Men were cruel like that. They grew bored. Theygrew stupid.

Not everyone could be lucky enough to find aHaymitch.

“What happened?” she asked, careful to keep hertone neutral. Much like Twelve’s victor, Johanna had a thing for sympathy. Theyboth tended to mistake it for pity.

“Went to his room last night.” Johanna saidafter a few seconds. “Naked.”

Effie pursed her lips in disapproval becausewhile she admired the tactic – had in fact used it a few times herself – shewas pretty sure that the victor hadn’t bothered hiding under a dressing gown ora coat and had trounced around the hotel corridors in her birthday suit. “Of course, you did.”

Jo shot her an annoyed glare but continued herstory. “He opens the door, looks at me and tells me we’re not doing thisanymore. You believe that? I was there. Naked.And the guy has the nerves to tell meto pack it?” Effie turned around to glare at Gale through the sliding doors. Hemust have sensed that he was being the target of very angry stares because he looked at them, still talking toPlutarch, and lifted – far too cocky –interrogative eyebrows. Johanna actually growled. “Asshole.”

“We can make him pay.” she immediately offeredbecause that was what you did when a man hurt a friend. “I can… Oh, I can start rumors about him havinga micropenis.” She didn’t have the influence she used to but a word here and ahint there should do the trick. There were a ton of journalists following themaround for the celebrations after all. “Orwe could trip him down the stairs at the ball tomorrow. Falling in front of ahundred cameras might bruise his ego.”

Jo didn’t appear to have heard her, too busybeing locked in a staring down contest with the young man. “He’s such an ass. Fuck him. Why can’t he be happy with what he’s got? Any other manwould be glad to have that much. Asshole has the nerves to turn me down when Iknock on his door naked?”

“I toldyou I did not like him.” she huffed, shocked by the smug smile Gale was nowtossing Jo. “Handsome men always feelthe need to collect conquests and he looks arrogant too.”

Seven’s victor spared her a brief look beforegoing back to her glaring. “You’ve got it backwards.”

“I beg your pardon?” she frowned.

Jo’s foot kicked the stone pillar of thebalustrade with obvious frustration. “Okay, so maybe it happened more than just a few times.”

And Effie’s mind flashed back to Anniementioning Johanna had been going away for a few days at a time now and thenthe last time they had visited them. Seven’s victor had claimed she needed thespace and Annie had just beamed proudly because she was doing alright alone withher son. And since Finn had always been the main focus, nobody had spared athought for what Johanna had been doing away from Four.

“So… It is a relationship?” she hesitated.

“No.”Jo spat. “I’m not the relationship kind of girls. It’s justsex. Awesome sex. At least it was until he went and fucked everything up.”

“By telling you he wanted to put an end to whatseems to me like a casual relationship regardless of the label you want to puton it?” she teased a little.

“By telling me he fucking loves me.” Seven’s victor growled. “Didn’t ask for it, didI? Told him I just wanted the sex and he went on and on about how he couldn’tdo this another time… Like I care what sort of twisted thing he had going onwith Katniss.”

Effie was starting to get a full picture andshe cleared her throat, choosing to inspect her manicure.

“You just asked me about it.” she pointed out.

“Not ‘cause I care.” Johanna denied. “Just toknow. Whose side are you on anyway?”

She ignored that last accusation. “Thisconversation about his feelings… Did it happen last night?”

While the victor was naked in the corridor…

“Last month.” Jo grumbled. “The asshole said hewasn’t going to sleep with me anymore until I figure out what I want. I commitor no more sex.” Seven’s victor made a face. “I told him to go fuck himself. That I was done.”

“But you went to his room last night.” shegrinned.

“I thought maybe he was done being an idiot.”Johanna muttered. “Clearly, I was wrong.”

Effie briefly bit on her bottom lip, restingher hip against the balustrade to study the younger woman. “Do you like him?”

“I like his cock.” Jo retorted crudely. And toofast.

“To the risk of you trying to behead me with anaxe…” She let her sentence trail off but when she only got a glare and noactual threat, she went on, deciding that Johanna had only been seeking heradvice the whole time without actuallyasking. “It seems to me you do havesome feelings for him.” Seven’s victor opened her mouth and Effie hurried inspeaking before she was interrupted. “I am not saying you are in love with himbut perhaps… Perhaps you do like him?Might he be more than just a sex-friend?”

“People don’t go from fuck buddies to… Whatever he wants us to be.” Jo scowled.

“Haymitch and I did.” she offered.

“Please, Trinket.” the victor scoffed. “You’vebeen in love with him for how long?”

“And he did not want anything to do with that.”she shrugged. “Because he was scared of what would happen if we left the casualfor something more serious and, at the time, he had his reasons but now we are safe, Johanna. If you are afraid of…”

“I’m not afraid!” Jo snarled, raising her voiceenough that it carried inside through the closed door. Effie was aware thateveryone had frozen to glance at them.While most of their friends were good enough to pretend nothing was amiss, Galewas still staring. And now Haymitch was too. Seven’s victor didn’t seem tonotice, too busy glaring and sneering at her. “I’m not afraid and if you everaccuse me of that again, I swear…”

The threat in the victor’s voice was real andEffie probably should have heeded it because, unlike Haymitch, she wasn’t allbark and no bite. She had long moved past her fears for Jo’s abrupt mannersthough. Compared to what Peacekeepers could do…

“You lost people you loved and you feel guiltyabout it.” she interrupted in a soft voice. The first time the Capitol hadtried to sell her, Johanna had stabbed the man, which had resulted in her wholefamily being murdered. In the victor’s mind, she was the one who should be deadand Finnick alive. Never mind the fact that she had been forced to see hermentor, the man who had supported her and helped her after her family’s death,die right in front of her eyes. There was plenty of guilt to go around. “Andyou are scared it will happen again. You feel that way about Annie and Finn toobut you do not have a choice in keeping them with you, do you? At least you donot feel that you have a choice because you think you oweit to Finnick to take care of them. A lover, now… Letting him in would be your choice ultimately. Openingyourself to that possible pain…”

“You’ve become a head doctor?” Jo mocked butEffie didn’t let herself be distracted.

“It isscary, Johanna.” she granted. “But it can be wonderful too. If that man loves you… If he truly loves you…”

“Maybe I can’tlove.” the victor spat. “Ever thought of that?Maybe I don’t even want to. Maybe Ijust…” Johanna shook her head. “What do I even talk to you for? You’re no fucking help. You can’t understand…”

“Oh, I think you can love.” Effie countered. “You love Finn and Annie. And I thinkyou might be a little bit in love with that man too. You cannot let fear ruleyour life or you are letting Snow win. It does not matter if he is dead. If yourun away from something good because you are too scared to lose it… Then youlet him win. And you know what Finnick would say about that…”

Johanna had jumped on her feet at some pointduring her little speech, hands balled into fists and dangerous scowl on herface. For a second, Effie wasn’t sure she wasn’t going to get punched and shewas only too aware that Haymitch and Gale were both making a beeline for thebalcony.

“Fuck you.” Jo spat and then stormed out,bumping into Gale’s shoulder in the process.

“You’re okay?” Haymitch grumbled, immediatelyreaching for Effie’s arm.

“I think Johanna would like an escort back tothe hotel.” she told the younger man firmly. Gale stared at her and then noddedbefore taking off after the victor, to the puzzlement of everyone left in theroom.

“What’s going on?” Haymitch insisted, a frownon his face. “Since when does Jo need an escort anywhere?”

She chuckled and wrapped both arms around hisneck, watching him grow red with embarrassment because they were in public –and not the familiar audience of the children either. Still, she was pleasedwhen he held her waist, pulling her against him.

“Love, darling.” she offered mysteriously,kissing him before he could figure it all out. “Always love.”

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #galana #johanna mason #gale hawthorne #prompt #post mj #funny one #book!verse #established #protective haymitch #jo

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spnreactionblogging · 4 years

Text

our father, who aren't in heaven

SPOILERS BELOW BUT I'M REALLY LATE TO THE PARTY THIS TIME

[I actually watched this like a month ago but didn’t remember to post it, oops]

I got so backed up with real life shit that I'm delayed watching this but I stayed off tumblr and twitter almost entirely for the last few weeks to avoid spoilers but god DAMN it it's a fucking buckleming episode

why do they keep being put in charge of the return of characters who we're all very invested in? you ruin kevin tran, you are likely to ruin adam, god fucking damn it.

at least RSJ is directing

you can tell they always think their episode titles are really goddamn clever too and it pisses me off

is john winchester not in heaven anymore? I thought that was a big fucking todo, that he and mary are up there and they don't want to ruin it for them. or are you referring to chuck? or both? who cares.

poor adam.

chuck what fun is it if you just automatically win every time, huh? what's the point?

I do love rob benedict though. I don't like being frustrated with his character.

buckleming's gotta get in as many "terrified women in exploitative situations" as they can before the end huh

I like eileen a lot and I probably ought to get around to watching her actual original episodes at some point

"guest starring jake abel" has got me choked up

HEY TOO BAD THE ONLY PERSON WHO CAN READ THE TABLET IS FUCKING DEAD HUH, HOPE YOU KEPT ALL THOSE NOTES OF HIS THAT YOU OCCASIONALLY DRAG OUT AND DECLARE WORTHLESS

poor kevin, god fucking damn it all

SAM: so he has an achilles heel DEAN: well i'm saying he has a weak spot

YEAH BECAUSE DEAN IS STUPID RIGHT? THANKS BUCKLEMING

I hope misha's hip is okay

I do like donatello, I hope nothing awful happens to him :(

sorry though guys the only prophet i acknowledge is kevin tran

okay so obviously as we've known since day one they're gonna team up with the darkness to subdue chuck but things will probably work out in the end to maintain universal harmony or some shit so whatever

sam really does have queer flannel, i like that black and white and red all over shirt

I hate buckleming episodes for so many reasons but not least of all because everyone behaves like a petulant kindergartener

is sam just reading the bible? it's got that golf leaf edge

okay seriously though don't they already have kevin's notes? why is donatello translating this fresh? kevin did all this work and fucking died for it. at least honor his legacy. jesus fuck.

really though, 14.08 establishes this:

http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/14.08_Byzantium_(transcript)

[Dean awakes where he passed out on the kitchen table, and hears voices in the other room. He gets up and follows the voices to the library] SAM: Man, haven't seen this stuff in years. WOMAN: And what language is this technically in? CAS: We're not sure, but it's-- it's written in cuneiform. Kevin was very thorough. SAM: Yeah. We kept it all-- the translations, his notes on his translations, annotations. You name it. [...] SAM: That's not-- Dean, listen, last night, after about whiskey number five, it hit me. I mean, we've torn through all the lore looking for a way to cure Jack, right? But we've never looked through Kevin's angel tablet translations. DEAN: Yeah, 'cause they're worthless. I mean, Kevin translated them into-- to crazy scribble only a prophet can read. And last I checked, we can't exactly ask Donatello. LILY: Maybe I can read them.

did he not take demon tablet notes? he sure seemed to have a bunch of those in seasons 8 and 9! also why do demons not care about this anymore

"if my dad kept me locked in a cage for ten years" oh yeah? if one month on earth is ten years in hell, then adam's been in the cage with michael for 120 earth months = 1,200 years in hell. OVER A MILLENNIUM IN HELL.

buckleming so completely fail to hold my attention even during the episode that ostensibly the whole fandom's been waiting for for a decade, that writing the word "millennium" got me sidetracked into watching some backstreet boys music videos and an nsync one to boot. what do you even have to say for yourselves, buckleming.

okay I got way distracted about the 8tracks closure

so I can't help but notice that STILL they have nothing to say about adam, they just need michael. like.

wow.

cas is the one to bring it up! I fucking love you castiel

keith szarabajka does a good rob benedict

buckleming writing this: chuck should immediately threaten all the women in their lives

oh so NOW dean doesn't want cas going to hell. cute. after forcing him to do so alongside belphegor. fuck you, dean.

i love sam and eileen doing witchy shit and cas watching

oh rowena's back.

i guess we should've known if she died she'd just like. go to hell.

"so fix it!" says rowena, by way of buckleming, dismissing everything castiel has every right to be angry about, as if this should just be shrugged off. easy for her to say when she's the one who fucked things over for crowley. not cool with sam being out of the room for that either? sam is very much involved with these proceedings.

I'm here for adam's food appreciation

I don't remember what happened to adam's mom? was it with the ghouls?

family does suck, adam.

I don't want to hear dean's commentary about sam's relationships or whether eileen is hot or anything like that, ever. butt out.

I do like the actress playing lilith

I need bourbon too, donnie. fortunately i had some prepared before i clicked play on this episode

I loooove these shots of castiel with the chessboard and the railing/bannister/whatever

I get that cas is being "BAMF" again I GUESS or whatever but I'm irritated with him stooping to this level of like... what dean pressured sam into with jack in S14, with using this intense sincerity to trick people. not a fan. and SHOCKER, "jack in the box" was written by buckleming too so there you go. there's this episode of bob's burgers where linda's running a murder mystery dinner and is like "ha! I was the murderer all along even though I said I wasn't!" you didn't connect shit, you're just lying

I will give buckleming exactly one point, even though it's 99% jensen's delivery, but calling him "mike" so derisively is hilarious

why don't they just tell him his AU self had the same goal last season

they definitely don't let them actually apologize! gee! all this time and they don't actually apologize. fuck off.

you could've written ANYTHING. anything at all, buckleming.

adam knows all about not knowing the secrets your dad is keeping

I'm glad adam doesn't forgive them.

"they believe it's true so it's probably true" is bad reasoning here

I feel like sue is probably fucked? or else this is a trap.

michael's the golden child and doesn't realize he's being abused by god just like the rest. at least he doesn't in this version

who said he had an entire tree up his ass, balthazar? zachariah? dean? bobby?

I think cas was right to show him the truth, just the events as they occurred

ugh i'm so nervous and uncomfortable for cas that there's no one here to intermediate if dean goes after him

literally after I type this I unpause and cas asks "where's sam?"

yeah i knew it was a trap. and here chuck's going to hurt eileen because he can.

I'm glad dean apologized on behalf of both of them I guess? but also not cool with sam not being here to talk to adam himself.

I'm glad michael found out about AU michael

stoked about purgatory honestly. bring back benny. BRING BACK GORDON. bring back dick roman.

cas looks so tired. what a note to end on.

I am also tired.

#s15e8

0 notes

bartsugsy · 7 years

Text

The Robron Break-Ups : A Definitive Guide (Part Four/A Large Number)

Part One / Previous Part / All / AO3

And so we return again to what is ostensibly a Break Up Counter but is actually at this point just a general recap of Aaron and Robert’s entire storyline, because I literally have no self-control.

Fair warning to you - with this post we reach The Donny Saga and The Time of Chrobert and the first Proper Break Up, which is personally one of my least favourite eras as far as Aaron and Robert are concerned and I spend most of it wanting to silently and furiously throw sharp objects at my tv screen. I MAY NOT BE AS SUBTLE ABOUT MY DISLIKE AS I COULD BE, TO BE HONEST.

But still, this has been therapeutic, and has reminded me that we’ve lived through many a Dark Age before.

Anyway, everyone loves a good bit of low-key saltiness don’t they? And also, in amongst all the… Lachlan stuff… there’s still some really wonderful moments, because of course there are. It’s Aaron and Robert.

I love you all. Thank you for your kind comments and likes/kudos/general loveliness. Enjoy.

Part Four: The Real Deal

16. 15th April 2015

So we pick up with things happening with Lachlan that I’m not even going to pretend to care about. Robert is distracted, Aaron is back from the hospital and Paddy and Chas are both Very Unsatisfied by this whole goddamn bitch of a situation. Anyway - the important thing is, in among all this stuff, Lachlan’s dad Donny comes back, which is only enjoyable if you enjoy seeing Robert irrationally hate people out of sheer jealousy (which I do, so here I am).

In the midst of all this, Aaron and Robert are not actually talking, according to Aaron, who is staring sadly at his phone in wait.

(At the same time as this is happening, Vic and Adam agree to go on a double date with Finn and the bloke he’s seeing and I scream a thousand screams of actual agony because when will they go on a double date with Aaron and Robert what the ACTUAL HELL)

(…moving on)

Anyway, Robert rocks up at the Woolpack to visit Aaron, who is still annoyed that Robert has been ignoring his messages and expresses this. Robert explains that Donny has turned up, Aaron asks if Robert’s jealous and Robert pulls this great ~offended~ face, as if that’s not exactly what’s happening. Aaron teases Rob a little bit to try and lighten the mood but Robert still kind of looks grumpy, so Aaron gets the hump and tells Robert to call him when he’s ready to talk. As he leaves, Robert looks all sad and guilty. It’s so hard maintaining two romantic relationships at once, isn’t it Robert? Poor angel.

How long did it last? Less than a day. Probably minutes, honestly. Robert had probably text Aaron with a wink face and a flirty joke before he even got out of the door.

But on screen, the very next day we see them at the scrapyard, literally just standing around and making out next to a rusty old van. Robert checks his watch to keep an eye on the time (lest Chrissie get suspicious) and Aaron comments that Robert has yet to have a go at him today - an odd occurrence given how moody Robert has obviously been lately. Robert laughs and explains that it’s Donny (TO WHICH AARON REPLIES “IT’S AARON, ACTUALLY”. AARON DINGLE KING OF HUMOUR). Robert goes on to talk about his annoyance at Donny’s general presence, because he’s clearly jealous and worried that he’s going to start making moves on Chrissie. Aaron, understandably, is about as sympathetic as an imminently dying person might be towards someone who sneezed once 5 hours ago and points out the absurd irony that Robert is worried about Chrissie cheating.

Robert doesn’t quite dignify that observation with a response, but simply apologises because he’s aware that him moaning about his marriage to his lover is probably not the smoothest of moves. He dials the pretty charm up to 560 and tells Aaron that they should meet tonight and go on a big romantic date with food and drinks and that Aaron should wear a suit (OK HE SAYS “PUT SOMETHING DECENT ON” BUT THIS OBVIOUSLY MEANS SUIT IT’S ROCK SOLID CANON THAT ROBERT LITERALLY FALLS OVER HIMSELF AT THE SIGHT OF AARON IN A SUIT SO) and that he might even be able to wrangle them an entire night together. He leaves and Aaron watches him go, biting back the smallest little smile because he’s all excited. Well. That will disappear soon.

Who came crawling back first? I don’t know they literally went from Aaron walking out to the two of them snogging. It was obviously Robert though.

How little did they mean it? 0/5 I mean why even ask at this point

17. 16th April 2015 - 17th April 2015

So, Aaron goes home after work and gets ready for his date with Robert. He’s not wearing a suit and I’m upset about it. Probably for the best though, because Robert has literally gone home and immediately dragged Chrissie into bed because he is the dictionary definition of “insatiable”, with the intent of spending the night with her. Has he already forgotten what he just said to Aaron? Stop double booking your dates Robert, you literal butthole.

Robert sort of neglects to mention his self-inflicted change of plans to Aaron, who ends up waiting around in the Woolie and leaving an angry voicemail with Robert, who obviously still hasn’t turned up. Luckily, Chas comes along to provide an excellent distraction, when she reveals that James has cheated on her. Cain barges in shortly afterwards and both he and Aaron look ready to punch all the things.

Aaron walks out (or hobbles - he’s still on crutches following his accident) and gets almost accidentally pushed to the floor by Paddy. Paddy notices the Face of Thunder™ Aaron is wearing and asks what’s wrong. Aaron fills him in about James and just sort of looks fed up with life. To rub salt into an already gaping wound, Robert rocks up with Chrissie, heading towards the pub, for the date night that he and Aaron were supposed to have, because apparently it’s ASSHOLE WEEK AND ROBERT IS THE NUMBER ONE PARTICIPANT DO YOU MIND ROBERT YOU’RE MAKING YOUR BOYFRIEND SAD YOU FLIPPING BAGEL BITE OH MY GOD

It’s at this point that I’m remembering why I never rewatch this particular era in their storyline.

Anyway, Aaron limps off, even angrier still, and snaps at a following Paddy to leave him be. Back at the pub, Aaron bumps into James, who is going through the ‘collecting his stuff’ stage of the break up. James tries to apologise and Aaron calls him a little muppet, growls a bit and refuses to let him leave.

James snaps and says that Aaron gets a free pass with Chas for every mistake he makes, which he understands because Aaron is her son, but - to quote James - “boy, do you need it”. Well, James isn’t wrong. In perfect soap timing, Robert chooses this moment to walk into the pub with Chrissie, still on the date he was supposed to take Aaron on. Aaron and James’ fight escalates, Aaron follows him out into the pub and catches sight of Robert and Chrissie, James calls him a coward who can’t face up to his actions and Aaron just snaps, grabs an ENTIRE FUCKING WINE BOTTLE and bottles James over the head.

In front of a lot of witnesses.

James gets back up and they start arguing again, but Cain keeps them separate and forces James to leave. Robert gets up with the intent of “doing something” to help, having completely forgotten about Chrissie’s presence in the face of Aaron doing something stupid, but Chrissie immediately forces him to sit back down. Chas comes out, Pete rocks up, it’s a whole thing, there’s a lot of arguing and Aaron just really looks like he wants a fight. You’re on crutches son, be good to yourself.

Anyway, other stuff happens. Donny gets beaten up and Aaron gets questioned by the police because he literally assaulted James in front of like 50 witnesses. Luckily, James gives Aaron an alibi for the police and he’s free to go.

How long did it last? Bloody forever

Who came crawling back first? Robert. Obviously. Robert drives up to the village to talk to Aaron and apologises for standing him up the night before. It’s the worst apology I’ve ever heard and Robert seems mostly perplexed that Aaron doesn’t want to both forgive him and hear about his dramas with Donny trying to steal Chrissie or whatever.

A few days later, Robert goes to find Aaron at the scrapyard and apologise. This scene mostly exists for Aaron to tell Robert that he’s seen Donny for the first time and overheard a dodgy call, which sends Robert back to Home Farm to #expose Donny to Chrissie once and for all.

More stuff happens with Donny. Ross and Chrissie flirt and I cry over their absurdly good sexual chemistry. Other stuff happens with Donny and he tries to steal Lachlan from the village or whatever. Sadly, he fails. Chrissie takes this as a cue to have Donny brutally murdered or some shit and Robert finds this to be the best turn on in the world and god help me I literally love everything about them despite myself. They’re like the Ultimate Evil Scheming Power Couple of Emmerdale, except Robert is utterly in love with someone else and Chrissie deserves better.

Also at some point Bob makes Robert a cake and sings him Happy Birthday. I understand this has nothing to do with anything, but it felt important to point out.

How little did they mean it? I mean, as much as it didn’t even sound like a break up when it happened, a damn lot, a whole flipping 5/5.

The show has, at this point, basically decided that Home Farm week never happened and it’s Chrobert’s time to shine. At one point Robert goes to the pub while Aaron is there sitting pretty in the background and has a secret meeting with ROSS BARTON. They don’t even make eyes at each other, this era sucks.

Speaking of, Ross gleefully spills to Chrissie that Robert set up the Home Farm raid. She confronts Robert, he thinks she’s found out about Aaron, but nope. Just the original shit he pulled. She yells and then he yells and then Robert goes off to confront Ross and Aaron appears and Robert doesn’t even give him a flirty look and I just want this era to end.

Robert ends up with Diane, who insists that he stay with her in the pub. Aaron walks in to find Robert looking pathetic and STILL NOT TRYING TO BANG HIM

AND THEY ARGUE AS IF THEY NEVER WERE EVEN IN LOVE BECAUSE ROBERT IS ANGRY ABOUT LOSING CHRISSIE AND AARON IS ANGRY AT ROBERT FOR BEING A DICK AND THEN AARON THREATENS TO TELL CHRISSIE EVERYTHING AND ROBERT SAYS “YOU’RE NOTHING TO ME” AND EVERYTHING HURTS ME IT’S NOT EVEN GOOD ANGST™

They’re literally sleeping under the same roof and not talking OR banging.

It’s absurd and it’s offensive.

At the prospect of having to actually live with Robert, Aaron asks Paddy to borrow some money so that he can leave the village for a bit and get some thoroughly undramatic and much needed peace. He changes his mind though, and has a great chat with Chas about Robert and Carl and Aaron is absolutely resolute that he’s finished with Robert, regardless of whether he comes crawling back for more.

Later on, Robert has literally changed his tune entirely and tries to get back into Aaron’s good books. Aaron gives him a shove, tells him they’re done. Robert apologises, says he shouldn’t have pushed Aaron away, but Aaron stays true to his word and doesn’t give in.

Oh man, yeah. This is a Break Up.

Luckily, knowing what we know about these two, it may be Over For Now, but it is in no way Over For Good.

Honourable Mention #10: 11th May 2015 - 14th May 2015

Fast forward a bit. Robert and Aaron are still living under the same roof and still haven’t banged again, which is entirely unrealistic, but hey - good for Aaron. I guess. Speaking of Aaron, he literally grabs a paper and sticks it down in front of Robert, telling him to find his own place and move on. Robert, who is sitting at the bar looking thoroughly depressed, uses his Soft Aaron Voice and asks if they can go and talk somewhere. Aaron tells him to not be a prat and walks away.

CAN I JUST POINT OUT HOW GOOD ALL OF THIS COULD HAVE BEEN IF THE SHOW WANTED TO ADMIT THAT EITHER OF THEM EVER HAD FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER BEYOND “NICE DICK” BECAUSE IT COULD HAVE BEEN SO. GOOD. INSTEAD, THEY DON’T AND I’M MOSTLY JUST MAD.

ON PAPER IT SOUNDS LIKE THERE SHOULD BE ALL THIS SEXUAL TENSION AND ANGST AND IT SHOULD BE BEAUTIFUL. IT’S NOT. DON’T WATCH IT TO TRY AND PROVE ME WRONG. ALL YOU’LL END UP WITH IS DISAPPOINTMENT.

The next day, Robert is meeting with Rakesh, because despite Robert’s best efforts, Chrissie still wants to divorce him. She’s still upset about that whole Home Farm break in thing. Bummer. Aaron walks in on the meeting and refuses to leave, gloats, gets a good couple of digs in… generally looks like he’s having a very satisfying time winding Robert up. Robert reacts to this all by getting steaming drunk. Aaron finds him and takes him back to the Woolpack, gets him a coffee and takes care of him, because Aaron is a good person and also still completely in love with Robert.

Robert apologises sincerely, talks about how much being alone terrifies him and tries to kiss Aaron. Aaron pushes Robert away and walks out. Chas sees the kiss and freaks out once more that Aaron and Robert are going to end up together. I’m telling you - give Chas a detective show or a psychic certification because she’s NEVER WRONG ABOUT THIS STUFF.

Chas and Paddy confront Aaron once more and he decides to sort out the living-with-Robert situation once and for all - and goes to pay a visit to Chrissie.

Blinding red herring - here we are, getting ready to see Aaron reveal the affair, but instead Aaron goes to Chrissie and basically convinces her to give Robert another chance and my heart shatters to little pieces because oh my god, Aaron just wants to be away from Robert, knows that if Robert stays they’ll end up getting back together and it’s just sad ok it’s sad and I’m sad.

The scene is amazing though. Aaron really sells it and it’s fascinating. He goes back to the Woolie to find a now sober and hungover Robert, who is absolutely not in the mood for Aaron to have it out with him again about moving out. Aaron explains what he’s done to Robert. Chrissie appears just in time to overhear their conversation. It all starts off great, then Robert starts bitching and Aaron admits that he flat out lied to Chrissie and ultimately, Chrissie locks Robert in a barn and pretends to set it on fire.

Seems reasonable.

Ah yeah and lest we forget - that’s exactly the way his mother died.

God they’re terrible to each other.

Anyway - a fascinating little sidenote to this particular honourable mention: Robert, in another desperate attempt to get Chrissie back, tells her that he knows he does stupid things, hurts the people he loves, manipulates, etc. and that he’ll change. She almost believes him, until he accidentally drops the massive cheque she gave him as a settlement and frantically reaches down to grab it, proof that more than anything, Robert cares about her money. There are so many similarities between this and the conversation Robert will have with Aaron about how he wants to change and be better for Aaron - except that with Aaron he honestly, genuinely means it.

He’s nowhere near there yet though. He does, however, go back to the Woolpack to find Aaron and they have a conversation - one of the first probably almost civil conversations since they split up.

Robert asks Aaron to run away with him. They’ll take the cheque Chrissie gave him and make a fresh start somewhere else, together. Aaron says that if Robert had been asking this a few weeks ago, Aaron would already be out of the door with his bags packed and ready to go. Now though - now he’s lost his trust in Robert and more than that, knows that wherever they go, even with Robert not being with Chrissie, they still won’t be able to be openly in a relationship because Robert still isn’t ready to come out.

Because, and this is important, Robert has spent all this time not with Chrissie, with Chrissie seemingly firmly out of the picture, and he and Aaron still haven’t become a proper couple - which is something I think Aaron had really put his hopes on, deep down - that the person getting between them was Chrissie, more than Robert himself.

Aaron asks Robert to go out into the bar and tell everyone, to “say it proud” and of course, Robert isn’t in the right place to do it. Aaron says that all he wants is for Robert to not be in his face 24/7 and tells him to “do one” (ah boy, I’ve missed that phrase) and storms off.

Honourable Mention #11: May 2015 - June 2015

FAST FORWARD SOME MORE. Robert and Chrissie get back together because Robert and Lachlan are like best buddies at this point and Lachlan helps out. It’s adorable in the sense that Ryan and Louise have lovely chemistry, but you know, whatever.

Robert breaks the news to Aaron and is all “no hard feelings” which Aaron quite rightly laughs off because What. The. Hell. Ah Robert, you dingbat. You can try to pretend like what you had with Aaron meant nothing but we all know the truth son. WE KNOW THE TRUTH.

He’s so good at lying to himself, isn’t he?

Aaron gets distracted by more Adam and Victoria drama, which is great. Anyway, on the day Victoria and Adam are supposed to move in together, Vic finds out that Adam had a one night stand with Vanessa and may have knocked her up. Aaron is a supportive friend and Robert appears to have the sweetest conversation with Victoria and be a supportive brother.

I say sweetest, but the whole thing is literally him suggesting she get her revenge.Whatever, it’s still sweet. Robert decides the best way to do this is to use some of his dodgy contacts to try and get Adam arrested because of course that’s how Robert responds to things.

Anyway, this is all to set the scene for Robert’s sudden and visceral hatred of Adam Barton. Vic and Adam reunite and decide to run off together with the intent of getting married. Robert… does not take this well.

So. Short and sweet (…in a way). I’m ending this here so that I can get it out of my drafts and move on to the next post, because this entire thing was written about two months ago and has been sitting untouched ever since. Tragic. So, onwards to the next part - which, coincidentally, is my all-time favourite era and also, let’s be honest, possibly the worst robron break-up to exist in this day and age so far.

(AND FOREVER MORE I DO NOT WANT LODGE PART TWO DO U HEAR ME UNIVERSE? NO. ONCE WAS PLENTY.)

That’s right kiddies. It’s The Lodge.

#the robron rejection compendium #robron #ed

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rudra-writes · 5 years

Text

Pellurin Date Night (Part 8)

Part of a roleplay story with Telurin’s player. After attending the festival, Pallas confesses his feelings to Telurin, but the death knight has concerns that Pallas may have been too inebriated to think clearly. (Advisory for some suggestive content.)

Pallas opens his eyes again and smiles, bright and hopeful when he looks up at Telurin’s face. He touches a spot below the death knight’s clavicle, and remembers, his eyes drawing downward to look, that this was the place where Telurin had been shot, and he’d had to dig the bullet out. And then had sewn up his skin where he had been cut open.

//I never imagined back then, that things would have ever come to this,// he thinks, rubbing his fingers over the place on Tel’s skin gently.

There’s still a faint scar there, a patch of thinner skin that’s nothing compared to the ragged circle lower down, or the long gashes in his side, but up close like this, it’s still noticeable, still new with its lighter color and smooth texture. Telurin can feel where Pallas’s hand has ended up, and covers it with his own.

“I am glad you were there that day.” He says, guessing the Anchorite’s thoughts. One corner of his mouth quirks, just the barest hint. “And that you were so forward.”

Pallas laughs gaily. “I seem to recall I threw several people out of that inn I dragged you to… Or maybe they left on their own?” His eyes hood, and he wriggles for a moment like a cat about to pounce. “My patient was a very scary man.”

“Hmmm…” Telurin sounds pleased to be described as ‘scary.’ “A joint effort, I think.” The death knight reaches lower and tweaks Pallas’s tail, hoping to surprise him as he catches that mischievous look.

"Ah!" Pallas is caught off-guard by the tail tweak, which causes him to jump. Then he laughs and pushes against Telurin's torso playfully. "That's hardly appropriate touching towards an Anchorite! Have you no sense of propriety?"

"No." Telurin grins, feral and wicked as he slides into his role. "Didn't you realize what you went to bed with last night?" His tail comes around to curl around Pallas's waist. "Besides, who's going to see?"

"The Light will see!" Pallas replies, although he looks like he's biting back a fit of giggles at this unsubstantiated claim.

He pets Telurin's long tail, then starts trying to wriggle away towards the death knight's unoccupied work table. "I didn't know my bad death knight was also a draftsman!" he says, threatening to go look at the drawings Telurin turned over a few moments ago.

"Humph." Telurin grumps, and puts up a minimal amount of struggle before letting Pallas up, taking his spot on the bed and lounging against the pillows, a picture of nonchalance as he watches Pallas head straight for the papers.

"You'll ruin the surprise if you do that." he says just when Pallas is reaching for the stack.

Pallas takes his hand back from the turned-over papers at Telurin's words, his tail wriggling in his curiosity. He decides to leave them, turning back around and joining Telurin again on the bed, cozying up against the other draenei's torso.

The priest looks innocent enough, until the small hand that had been wandering around near the top of Telurin's tail creates a little Light-shock, in a comeuppance at having his tail tweaked.

Telurin’s relax is subtle but there, if you know how to look, when Pallas turns away from the papers and back toward him. It's there in the way the death knight sits back a bit more into the pillows, how his smirk widens just a fraction more. He welcomes Pallas back to the bed, and unwinds into Pallas's touch, until the little Anchorite shocks him, that is.

"Now who doesn't have any sense of propriety?" Telurin growls, and his fingers tighten on the arm he had been lightly stroking a moment before. "I would think the Light cares more about the actions of an Anchorite than one such as myself."

"Oh?" Pallas coos, noticing Telurin's strong fingers on his arm. As he so often does, the priest encourages Tel's growling still more, curling his fingers like little claws and running them down the undead draenei's chest, leaving Light-infused scratches. "Am I in danger of being corrupted by the bad death knight?"

In their play, Pallas had for the moment forgotten that he'd meant to ask Telurin about Belaar -- even forgotten that he was ostensibly now Belaar's pupil. He is excited for his new-found freedom, and ability to spend as much time with Telurin as he wants, and not yet fully considering what not having a permanent home might be like.

"I think you've *already* been corrupted by the 'bad death knight'," Telurin snorts, even as he leans into those Light-tipped fingers. "I think you *enjoy* being corrupted, and having me take you anytime I please, anywhere I please." Telurin loosens his grip on Pallas's arm, curling his fingers around the other draenei's chin-tentacles instead. "Isn't that right, Pallas?"

"Hm," Pallas replies noncommittally, even as he hoods his eyes at the touch of Telurin's fingers around his tendril. "What makes you think you could do something like that?" He takes Tel's other hand in his own, and kisses the inside of the large palm, then licks at the thumb. "You might get smited, is that a risk you're willing to take? I bet it would hurt..."

Telurin scoffs at that, even as his eyes shine just a touch brighter and are fixated on what the Anchorite is doing to his hand. "What's a little pain when the end result is so sweet?"

Pallas catches the gleam in Telurin's eyes, and encourages it, lapping his tiny tongue against the end of Tel's thumb even as the death knight is still holding his tendril in his other hand. "I don't think you would," Pallas coos, his eyes watching Tel's coquettishly. "You've been so well-behaved lately. A perfect gentleman." The Anchorite takes Telurin's thumb past his lips, sucking the tip of it gently while swiping the pad with little licks. He switches to mental speak while he mouth is occupied. //Not the sort of death knight who would bend an Anchorite over in the woods to fuck him when-ever he wanted... Or maybe pin him against a tree. Mmm.//

"As a gentleman," Telurin says, drawing the word out as he watches Pallas do indecorous things with his thumb, "If said Anchorite wanted to be fucked against a tree, who am I to object?" He lets go of Pallas's tendril to flick one of the Anchorite's nipples, before wandering even lower. "I take it you wish for me to claim you in this way? Rutting in the forest like animals, where anyone passing by could see how you've been corrupted with my touch?"

Pallas's breath hitches as Telurin's rough hand wanders lower. He takes the death knight's other hand, pausing his suggestive licking of the thumb to press the palm against the side of his face. "Who would be there to see us?" he asks with a little laugh, the color still showing in his cheeks. "In the wilderness? I think you overestimate the chances."

He looks up and into Telurin's eyes adoringly, then takes the hand he is holding and kisses the larger man's fingertips.

Telurin just shakes his head, his eyes darkening with the idea of it. "And I think you underestimate them." It's a nice mental image, and he toys with the idea of making it happen regardless of who might come across them. It makes his cock twitch in anticipation, though as Pallas's eyes show more love than lust, and his suggestive licks turn more toward affectionate kisses, he tries to bank that fire he feels for his Anchorite. He gives the other draenei another stroke and then moves his hand to his hip, just far enough away to not be touching.

"Do you have anything in mind for today? Or should I look into finding this mythical bit of woods to make some of these fantasies of yours come true?"

Pallas notices the way Telurin's eyes darken, and the little twitch of his cock. His emotions are strong in that moment, and he wants more than anything to say, 'I want you to make love to me,' but he is concerned that the verbiage might be too much, after everything that had happened.

"Don't go. I don't want you to leave," Pallas gasps, holding Telurin's wrist tighter as if worried Tel might actually attempt to wander off to find some woods. "I need you here, right now." Trying to convey how much Telurin is wanted, the priest stretches out to kiss him on the lips, his hands caressing the sides of the death knight's face and his hair.

Telurin welcomes the kiss. He lets his hand run back up the Anchorite's body, back to those sensitive tendrils, stroking them gently.

"That's all you needed to say then." The death knight purrs, switching his attention to the other tendril. His tail come around and strokes Pallas's outer thigh, layering sensation for the Anchorite. If Pallas wanted him gentle, Telurin is certainly happy to oblige, starting with these featherlight touches.

#draenei #Pallas #Telurin

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