Text
I think... in many ways, I really just want to feel loved, but I'm scared of accepting it, and scared of feelings I feel like I "can't control" so I end up taking an overly analytical approach and overjustifying things like natural curiosity to myself by calling things "just scientific fascination" and "morbid curiosity" (because in my mind, things I feel I am not "allowed to" experience, be curious about, or consider, seem like they're taboo, hence 'morbid'). I can't really fault others for thinking that's messed up. I've definitely ruined chances at receiving any sort of care and/or love in the past by not only pushing people away in delusional self-sabotage states, but also by treating people like equations or research projects. I sort of hate admitting to myself that I DON'T know or understand everything, and that doing so is impossible no matter how much I like knowing things, especially since my inability to just trust and take what people tell me at face value is in juxtaposition with that desire for knowledge and thorough understanding. It is actually me and my own doubt of people that drives me into over-questioning everything I DO know.
I also am terrible at paying attention to others. I know this. I forget that other people are, well, people, and that they won't know how much I care about them unless I express it and KEEP expressing it. Not just verbally but with things like asking people how they are doing- assuming they'll just tell me if they want me to know is something I do, but I know very well how easy it is to feel like a burden and close your troubles away from others in fear of being "too much" to deal with. I've reflected on this, and my unhealthy manner of expressing fondness and trust for others being that I'm far too quick to traumadump and talk about myself, in the past, but I've not been making nearly enough progress on it.
I think, I seek and crave for too much clarity without offering any myself, that has driven people away from me in the past, and it's purely my own flaws causing it.
Maybe with another year or two of reflecting, I will be able to handle something like a qppr without it falling apart because of my aloofness and inability to pay enough attention to others. Perhaps in half a decade, I could consider a romantic relationship, if I've made any progress with all that + trauma work, by then.
#I previously swore off all kinds of romantic/qplatonic relationships because I felt that I just#''wasn't made for them''#but I think in truth NOBODY is made for them- people just have to grow and improve to be able to maintain them#healthy ones at least#and there's no point in desiring for dysfunctional ones no matter how desperate one is#I know this well thanks to DF.#so what I am saying is... my previous attitude was selfish and petty#to just decide that I am ''hopeless'' and ''unfit'' for something was a sort of refusal to accept fault in myself#nobody is 'hopeless' with things like healthy romantic/qpp relationships unless they choose to be#and making that choice... to rather be hopeless but eternally envying others is very childish#childish and something that only someone in deep denial about their own flaws would do#I can offer myself some understanding since I believe that I needed to reach this point#where I would realize this myself and accept it#and I'm glad I didn't cause anyone any hurt (as far as I'm aware) during this time it took me to realize that#because I could see people making a declaration like that but then allowing mixed signals and vague situationships to take place#solely because of the very human loneliness of wanting closeness but also childishly refusing to actually work on oneself#much like my refusal was. but in my case#I did fully cut everything like that out- I haven't allowed people to get any closer than ordinary friendship#and I've not been crushing on people myself (in general that's just because I'm demi most likely)#(but I have not been crushing and trying to justify to myself sending mixed or vague signals to anyone)#(that's what I mainly mean in that I haven't been crushing. that I haven't allowed myself to act selfishly because of emotion)#so in that sense I do feel a little proud that me saying that I'm not going to even think about things like romance or qpps#wasn't just me 'saying it' while still technically wanting it and craving for it#I truly did take that literally and took a lot of time to just... process things and explore my issues#and I think that's what allowed me to come to this realization naturally myself- that I am NOT hopeless#and that I was just throwing a childish tantrum because processing emotions that felt out of control felt 'too difficult' to even try#it's like a child refusing to even try to learn tying their shoelaces just because they don't quite 'get' how to make a knot yet#mm... I'm glad I've made that progress. it's not that it magically fixes everything that was wrong to begin with about me#and my attitude towards emotions and feelings like attraction and affection and even love#but it does to me at least show that I've overcome one obstacle of many and AM making progress even if it's not immediately visible
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
After reading this post from @waitmyturtles about her read on Fire and Dynamite, I was thinking a bit more about the way the show has handled their story and what I love about it. And I think it comes down to a crucial point: Cooking Crush, unlike most Thai bl, is NOT in the bubble, and the presence of homophobia, both internal and external, cannot be separated from their story. This is a queer narrative to the core.
Both Fire and Dynamite are shaped by their sexuality and their experiences or fear of rejection because of it. Dynamite is out and proud and unapologetic about what he wants, and as we learn when his backstory is revealed to us, this is a direct response to the familial rejection he experienced when he came out. Dy is defiant and in your face with his desires because he has already experienced the worst kind of rejection and is always bracing for more. So he dares people to do it right out of the gate. He likes to know where he stands with people, so he’d rather be his brashest self and suffer the loss early before getting attached. He deals with fear by daring people to prove him right.
Fire takes his fear in the opposite direction, denying who he is and rejecting anything that makes him think too hard about the aspects of himself he does not want to deal with. Even without Dynamite in the picture, it was clear that he was trying to talk himself into liking Jane in a way he simply did not. Once we got to know his mother, the source of his fear became crystal clear, and it was easy to see why he worked so hard to suppress himself. Fire was unhappy living that way, and Dynamite was a constant reminder of what he was trying to keep down, so it’s no wonder he reacted so viscerally to him.
But that’s exactly why their story works. Fire needed someone who he couldn’t ignore to draw out his true self, and because Dynamite is so unwilling to put up with mixed messages and half-hearted declarations, Fire had to work himself all the way out before Dy would accept him. One of the genius things this show did in their arc was have Dy pull away as soon as Fire began sending mixed signals. Dynamite was fine in the face of Fire’s firm rejection—it as what he always expected to get from him along with everyone else. But he wouldn’t allow Fire to run hot and cold on him and play with his emotions, because that was where he knew he could get really hurt. And this boundary that Dy set forced Fire to figure out what he actually wanted and communicate it clearly.
Which is why we saw Fire change so much as soon as they were together, because in the process of deciding what he wanted from Dynamite, Fire had to make some decisions about who he wanted to be and how he wanted to live. And he chose to embrace his queerness and live a more authentic life. He is a new man in this relationship because he is being himself for the first time ever, and he’s finally breaking free from the weight of his own internalized homophobia. It’s a positive change and one that is clearly making him happy, and part of him must feel grateful to Dy for pushing him into figuring out what he wanted.
But crucially, that is where Dy’s pushing ends. He is utterly unwilling to make any further demands of Fire regarding coming out, to the point that Dy puts his own friendships at risk to hide their relationship and protect Fire until he’s ready. He understands the fear of rejection Fire is still dealing with because he lived it. And he has already proven that he’s up to the task of handling Fire’s mother whenever Fire is ready to face her. These two are still early in their relationship but they have already fallen into a very natural and easy pattern of providing each other emotional support and stability, and we can see them shoring each other up. They make a great pair and theirs is a story that can only exist between queer characters.
I just love that in this show that feels so light on the surface they have made room for such depth in the storytelling. Watching Cooking Crush feels like a warm hug because even though it’s gentle and funny and often silly, there are real emotional struggles to ground us, and the story takes them seriously. We’ve seen this consistently in the main storyline with Ten and Prem, and Fire and Dynamite are no exception.
122 notes
·
View notes
Note
i realize you probably dont care about the upcoming netflix adaptation but the cast pretty much got confirmed and people are talking about it again so, whats your take? are you lookin forward to it or dont care for it?
Usually I wouldn't care about this, and I have said before to please not involve me in discourse i haven't already talked about, but I was going to make this post anyway so
*cracks knuckles*
Alright children, it's come to my attention that some people don't know their etiquette regarding Indigenous peoples and are making themselves look a fool.
First: you are not entitled to anyone's family history under any circumstances, save perhaps them paying you to do a family tree.
There is an aspect of this specific to Native people. I don't know how it works for Native folks in Canada but in the United States, when you are born Native your parents do some paperwork and the Beaureu of Indian Affairs gives you a Certificate of Indian Blood, stating exactly how Native you can be proven to be based on how Native your parents can be proven to be. The Certificate of Indian Blood is often called a pedigree with bitter irony because in essence, that's what it is. We come with papers like fancy show dogs, just instead of it qualifying our "breed" it's qualifying our right to be enrolled in tribal membership.
I keep my pedigree with all my other important documents, like tax information, birth certificate, social security card, that sort of thing. I inherited a total blood degree of 1/4 Eskimo from my mom and thus qualify for tribal membership. Past a certain point, I wouldn't be considered "Native Enough" based on blood alone and i'd have to get a special dispensation to be legally recognized as an Indigenous descendant. It doesn't matter what my tribe or nation's traditional customs regarding kinship and identity were, by United States law, I could be declared "Not Native Enough" no matter my connection to my culture, no matter how accepted I was by my Native family. Kinda fucked up, isn't it?
Oh, and the Beaureu of Indian Affairs is part of the US government. They ran the schools where kids got beat for not speaking English. We have to tell them we are members of this marginalized group that seems to keep demanding safe drinking water and the right to not be kicked out of our homes at the expense of oil companies if we want access to healthcare and scholarships we may not otherwise have access to because of our "unique situation" (systemic disadvantage). This marginalized group that faces police brutality and wrongful arrests for peacefully protesting our right to live in the few places we have been allowed to live. So if the US government decides Native people are a problem, they have a registry of us. Kinda fucked up, don't you think?
So with that all in mind, do you see how uncouth and just plain nasty it is to demand proof of someone being "Native Enough" or "The Right Kind of Native"? If some freak tries to dig up this info and he's more mixed than some have deemed acceptable (so 1/4 or less) or god forbid doesn't even have his papers or tribal membership for any reason (justified paranoia, clerical error, any degree of negligence on the parents' part) he gets to look forward to being treated even more like a pretendian than the fans have already seen fit to treat him as. How fun.
Every day I wake up I am made to remember that I'll never look "Native Enough" to a huge swath of people who may not have even talked to one of us face-to-face. And it's only a matter of time before one of them sends me a message, written to sound like they're crawling on their belly because they have nothing but respect for "Real Natives" but if they saw me in the regalia my older cousin in Nome made for me so I could graduate high school in regalia, they'd throw a fit. If they saw me after I eventually get my tavlaģun, all pale skinned and blue-eyed, they'd treat me as a study in cultural appropriation, as if i'm not trying to learn whatever variation of my ancestral tongue I can get my hands on.
I can totally understand why he or anyone else might have thought it was better not to specify. Like my first reaction (and this isn't necessarily correct nor something i'm proud of, just the first thing that came to my mind) to seeing Katara was cast as that Mohawk girl from Anne with an E was "they couldn't even get a real eskimo?" I'm guessing others felt similarly. If he didn't wanna deal with that, I can't blame him.
If you think he doesn't look brown enough to convincingly play someone native to the tundra, i recommend the following: go on youtube, look up "inupiaq" and watch at least five of the videos that come up to see how varied we are.
Don't watch this live action adaptation if you don't want to, but if you refuse on the grounds of "the actor's not native enough :/" and go on to ignore actual Native media, that's some performative shit if I've ever seen it. Seriously, how many of the people complaining have watched Smoke Signals? Dance Me Outside? On the Ice? How many were hyped over Reservation Dogs (first two episodes are on Hulu as I'm writing this post)?
Anyway, I'm tired. I'm probably not gonna watch the live action series, but that has nothing to do with Sokka's actor not being "brown enough" to be seen as one of the red and brown. I'll finish off this post with a 1491s video so everyone can get a taste of Native media and maybe elevate it more than discourse over who gets to play a Fantasy Eskimo who was originally written and played by white guys with no Actual Eskimo input:
youtube
#response#eskimo on main#sorry this went on a ranty tangent#still not over that one douche in the youtube comments sarcastically calling me a *real pocahontas* because I brought up native things#and my icon looks vaguely like me irl#and my name sounded white because given name from bible + irish surname#as if that isn't super common
265 notes
·
View notes
Text
Warriors Analysis 2: A Breakdown of the Crow/Night/Breeze Family Dynamic
I said I would do it, so here we are. The big doozy. For this one, I’m going to putting all of the sourced scenes in a linked google doc, because I just don’t want to make this post a million miles long. Instead, for this post, I will sum up all of the conclusions made after reviewing every scene involving the family from Po3 through OotS, with other relevant information from other books included.
Context of this one: I’ve watched (and participated in) a lot of debate over this family. Just about every single argument I’ve seen tends to:
1) rely on a person’s opinion of a character overall to how they feel about the family (”I found Nightcloud annoying” often goes along with “Nightcloud is equally bad of a parent” or “Breezepelt was a bad person so I don’t sympathize with him in the family situation”)
2) misremember canon
3) rely on a person’s headcanons of what actually happened to shape their judgement of the family (”Nightcloud spoiled Breezepelt and told him Crowfeather is bad” when there are zero canon scenes of this happening)
Some ground rules: I’m relying on breaking down the canon scenes in the books. I am NOT inserting my own thoughts or beliefs as to what happened behind the scenes. If there’s anything bordering on that (”this behavior implies X”), it’ll be clearly stated that it’s an interpretation. I ask that if you want to comment or debate this analysis that you do the same. People’s headcanons shaping how they remember the family is the thing that frustrated me enough to spend hours digging this up. As a personal request, please don’t use this post to say “Nightcloud still sucks and I hate her”/”Breezepelt still sucks and I hate him”/”neglect isn’t abuse” - the latter is definitively incorrect and is upsetting to hear as a survivor of abuse. “X character still is bad” just takes away from the point of this - which is not to say “Breezepelt is a good person”, but PURELY to breakdown the family dynamic. With that out of the way, let’s GO:
After looking at literally every scene involving Breezepelt, Crowfeather, and Nightcloud and analyzing the ones that involve or mention them as a family, here’s some key points. The scenes that back these points up are included and detailed in this doc.
Breezepaw is introduced to us as a bit aggressive and rude, and his mentor, Whitetail, wishes to Crowfeather that she would teach him manners (earning her no response from him)
We first properly see Nightcloud during the dog attack in The Sight, when Breezepaw returns from checking the barrier. Breezepaw reports that there is no damage, and Crowfeather immediately questions if he actually checked all the way around. Breezepaw tells him “Of course!”, and Nightcloud says that Crowfeather should trust his son more.
This suggests Nightcloud is ready to defend Breezepaw whenever. However, as ThunderClan is leaving, Breezepaw mutters that WindClan can manage on their own. Nightcloud immediately scolds him and compliments Lionpaw for saving Heatherpaw during the battle.
Later, at the daylight Gathering, Lionpaw and Breezepaw are buried underground. Crowfeather and Nightcloud help dig them out, and Breezepaw is not breathing when he comes out. Jaypaw has to pull dirt out of his throat to save his life.
Leafpool says to Crowfeather that she would “give [her] last drop of blood to save [his kit]”. Nightcloud sharply retorts that “our kit was lucky that Jaypaw was here”.
Nightcloud carries Breezepaw away from the scene “like a kit”. Crowfeather offers to help, but she carries him on her own. She does not push him away/force him away/shout at him, she literally just chooses to carry him. Nightcloud spends the rest of the daylight Gathering curled around Lionpaw and Breezepaw and keeping them resting.
We learn these things from the Sight: Breezepaw and Crowfeather seem to have a tense relationship, but that isn’t fully developed. Nightcloud is willing to defend him from Crowfeather’s doubts, but notably does not defend him when he acts like a punk in front of her. She is bothered by Leafpool’s comment about giving her life for Breezepaw (which I personally find pretty reasonable to be bothered by), but counters by giving her gratitude to Jaypaw. She wants to carry Breezepaw after he nearly dies, but isn’t pushing Crowfeather away or denying him anything like many people claim.
In Dark River, Crowfeather encourages Breezepaw’s bias against ThunderClan, telling him that they “celebrate mixed blood” in a tone that implies it as a negative thing. (It seems implied he does this to get to Leafpool, who is upset by his comment.)
Jaypaw is able to feel Nightcloud’s jealous emotions on a few occasions, but she actually never says anything to Leafpool or Crowfeather about it.
In Outcast, Crowfeather is called to go on the journey to the Tribe. Onestar tells him to take Breezepaw, who has gotten in trouble a few times. Breezepaw makes it very plain he doesn’t want to go and worries that his Clanmates are just trying to get rid of him. Crowfeather wants to go, but “sighs” over the idea of taking Breezepaw. To me, he comes off as disinterested and possibly disappointed that he has to bring him. Crowfeather snaps at Breezepaw for asking to say goodbye to his friends, saying “There isn’t time!” even though literally no one is rushing them to leave. Nightcloud comes to say goodbye, but Crowfeather is distant and doesn’t respond to her.
Throughout Outcast, each POV character has at least one (if not many) moments where they think about Crowfeather/Breezepaw and feel pity for Breezepaw, despite really hating him. Hollypaw especially thinks often about how she appreciates Brambleclaw for encouraging and supporting her, and the apprentices all seem to realize that Breezepaw is angry because his father “doesnt seem to like him”.
When questioning why they have to help the tribe, Crowfeather just tells Breezepaw “You’ll never understand loyalty.”
When they run into Purdy, Breezepaw is pretty rude to him. Crowfeather doesn’t interrupt a single time throughout multiple insults, then reacts by hitting him across the ear without saying anything, which is noted as “a hard blow”.
Breezepaw nearly dies falling off into a ravine after thinking he’s discovered a faster way. Crowfeather pulls him back and snaps at him, expressing no concern for his life. In Eclipse, Crowfeather pointedly does not compliment Breezepaw’s catch of the rabbit, which angers Breezepaw.
During the reveal of Leaf/Crow in the last book, Breezepelt and Nightcloud stand by Crow’s side and don’t publicly turn on him or say anything against him.
This journey gives us a lot of insight into Crow and Breeze’s dynamic. Breezepaw is pretty obviously a little punk throughout this book, but Crowfeather has no healthy way of communicating with him or discipling him. Instead, he snaps at him, hits him, or ignores him, all of which just feeds into Breezepaw’s anger. Nightcloud is not present for any of this and has no way of controlling their interactions here, which could have been a perfect opportunity for Crowfeather to build a relationship with his son if it were true that Night had prevented this.
Breezepelt shows up in Fading Echoes, training in the Dark forest. A few things are made explicit: he is being manipulated by the Dark Forest and Tigerstar’s words have an almost hypnotic effect on him. The cats present egg him on against Crowfeather, feeding into his belief that Crow does not value him. (Side note, I find it really interesting that in this book, Breezepelt has notable value in the warrior code [which encourages his hate towards Crow] and the DF cats encourage this, saying it is “strong” in his blood. Next time we see him, though, he wants to destroy it.)
Flametail randomly thinks about Breezepelt’s family while spending time with Tawnypelt, feeling glad he has nicer kin.
We get the infamous scene where Lion and Breeze fight. Breeze and Crow were both trespassing on ThunderClan territory and Lion caught the prey Breezepelt was about to catch. He intentionally eggs Breezepelt into a fight (rather than just attacking him himself). Leafpool interrupts, asking how Crow can watch this. Nightcloud then shows up and insists Crowfeather has only one son. Leafpool jumps in between them as Breezepelt is leaping for Lionblaze, and she gets clawed. Crowfeather hauls him off and throws him aside, then keeps talking to Leafpool, who tells him she loved him.
Nightcloud then comes over and pulls Crowfeather away from Leafpool. She sinks her claws into his pelt to do this. However, it’s worth noting that this scene contains MANY references to blood every time claws come out - she does not draw blood and he does not express any signal of pain. It’s likely she used her claws only as a means of holding onto him, not to cause him harm. Crowfeather turns on him, and Breezepelt wails before getting between them, telling Crowfeather to leave his mother alone.
Nightcloud doesn’t react rationally in this scene - but neither does any character. Lionblaze is an ass, Breezepelt is an ass, Crowfeather is an ass, and Leafpool is still walking around making declarations of her former love in front of Crowfeather’s wife.
Nightcloud is one of the cats to react rudely to Hollyleaf’s return, but she doesn’t directly attack/challenge her. (This is actually the last time we see Nightcloud.)
The final meaningful scene is in The Last Hope, when Breezepelt fights Lionblaze. Crowfeather intervenes and says he will not allow Breezepelt to hurt him. Breezepelt retorts he always knew Crowfeather hated him, which Crow denies.
“I never hated you!” Crowfeather growled. “That’s just what you were determined to believe. And Nightcloud encouraged you.”
“It’s not her fault!” Breezepelt spat.
“No,” Crowfeather hissed. “I should have done something much earlier...”
This is the first and only time this is blamed on Nightcloud. This is the only indication we have that this could be true.
Some other notable things:
Crowfeather took Nightcloud as a mate to prove his loyalty, not out of love. (This is said in After Sunset: We need to talk)
The Ultimate Guide also confirms the above, but is a questionable source given the many errors included in it. It states that Crowfeather resents Nightcloud (for not being Leafpool), and that Nightcloud coddled Breezepelt. However, the latter is never shown in the story (and the opposite is actually shown when she scolds him).
In Crowfeather’s Trial, Crowfeather is pushed to recognize his anger towards his son and apologize for his behavior towards him and Nightcloud. Even in an entire book from Crow’s perspective (which provides opportunity for memories, flashbacks, etc), there is no indication that Nightcloud actually pushed Breezepelt to hate Crowfeather. There’s a throwaway mention that Crowfeather was too strict or too rough with Breezepelt as a kit, but it’s never actually said that Nightcloud told him this/kept him away/etc. (IE: it’s impossible to say if Nightcloud screamed this at him or asked him once to be gentle. We just don’t know!)
With all this said, here’s my take on the dynamic:
Crowfeather was a neglectful father and an inconsiderate mate. The only scene we get where he seems to actually get along with Breezepaw is when he is encouraging him to dislike ThunderClan by feeding into hatred for “mixed blood” cats. In all other scenes, he: 1) ignores his bad behavior, 2) is unnecessarily harsh to him or dismissive of him, 3) questions and undermines him, 4) does not have healthy ways of addressing his poor behavior (IE, he ignores and turns away from him rather than discussing it when all the apprentices are in trouble and the other warriors are scolding them, he flat-out hits Breezepaw at one point after saying nothing to intervene in his rudeness), and 5) blames Nightcloud for their bad relationship. Crowfeather is provided plenty of opportunities to interact with Breezepaw while Nightcloud isn’t present (in fact, Nightcloud shows up very little - most scenes of the family have just Breeze and Crow, there are many books where Nightcloud isn’t even mentioned).
Nightcloud was literally just being a normal mom and was often pushed to feeling jealous around Leafpool, often because Leafpool doesn’t have any boundaries around hinting about loving Crowfeather for some reason. I was actually really shocked by how... absolutely fuckin brazen Leafpool is 24/7 about waltzing up to Crowfeather while his wife is standing right there and going “just so you know......... i miss you........... i’d give my life for you......” It’s just WEIRD. IMO, it’s pretty damn reasonable for that to make Nightcloud irritated! Most of the time, she never actually voices her jealousy, we just know about it because of Jaypaw’s ability. When she does, it’s sometimes done by complimenting someone else or giving credit to another cat, like when Jaypaw saves Breezepaw. There is zero text in the story supporting the idea that Nightcloud was overbearing or that she spoiled him: we have TWO SCENES where she has character moments around this. In the first, she is defending him from Crowfeather’s doubt, and in the second, she is scolding him for being ungrateful to ThunderClan for their help.
Breezepelt was a kid that grew up feeling unloved, unappreciated, and angry and resentful as a result. The Dark Forest, not Nightcloud, fed into this belief, but we also have a whole lot of scenes that show why that feeling of resentment towards Crowfeather is there to begin with.
The final hot take: If you believe Nightcloud ‘spoiled’ Breezepelt or that she was ‘overbearing and possessive’, you need to reread Po3 and OotS. It’s just not there.
(Bonus: I love Leafpool but god, girl, you need to read a room.)
613 notes
·
View notes
Note
raven-san, can we please have a wedding crashing where jade needs to marry this girl from another crime family to consolidate power and become the next head of the leech mob :)) but floyd's like I'M BORED and annoyed that his brother's being snatched up by a random chick, so he asks basketball bros, and azul, to help save jade?
This one is super long, so I added some extra sections and placed the rest of the wedding crashing below the cut!
***Spoilers for Jamil and Floyd’s Unique Magic!!***
"I object to this wedding...!"
Pre-Wedding Jitters
A call comes for the twins in the dead of night, without warning. It’s their parents with exciting news: they’re naming Jade as the next Don Leech. The catch? The Leech mob’s in the middle of a merger with the Worm mob, and he’ll have to marry Don Worm’s daughter to secure the deal.
Jade, ever the dutiful son, is honored by his future title and calmly agrees to the arrangement. On the other hand, Floyd’s annoyed by the idea, and can’t keep quiet about his irritation. He calls out to his twin in the darkness.
“... Ne, Jade.”
“Ee, Floyd?”
“Are you really okay with going through with this? You’re just gonna do what they said? Even though you don’t know the Worms at all? Even if you’ve never met that girl before?”
“It is a request coming directly from father and mother. How could I refuse them? And, furthermore... If I do not undertake this task, then it would fall to you, the next choice to inherit the title of Don Leech. I cannot allow that to come to pass--fufu. You do so enjoy your freedom, yes?”
“... Jade, you’re so dumb sometimes. What’ll happen to your freedom, then? Will you get so busy with being the big boss and being married... that you won’t have time to play anymore?”
“... Perhaps. But that is a sacrifice I am willing to make.”
That thought doesn’t sit well with Floyd--not at all.
“I trust that you will make your own fun of the situation,” Jade reassures him. “You always do.”
As the weeks pass, Floyd sees less and less of Jade around, since he has to prepare for the wedding. Jade reassures him that he’s doing just fine, but Floyd can see right through his lies. He can tell that Jade’s more frazzled than usual--there’s a lingering to his words, and a longing in his eyes, savoring every last bit of autonomy he has before his fate is forever sealed.
Floyd hates it. He hates being lied to by his own brother, and he hates feeling powerless to stop the wedding. Floyd’s so angry that he develops this murderous aura in the weeks leading up to the wedding, which makes everyone around him shy away.
One day, he gets sick of being in the water--it’s a reminder of the wedding to come--so Floyd plays basketball on land to vent. He ends up chomping down so hard that he deflates a ball, then dunks another basketball so hard, he breaks the net.
He sprawls out on the ground and angrily shouts at the sky. His basketball bonks him on the head... and that’s when an idea hits him: maybe he can’t stop the wedding alone, but no one said he couldn’t phone some friends.
Assembling the Dream Team
Floyd first dials up Azul, who agrees to help after some whining and signing a contract agreeing to pay Azul handsomely for his services (... although truthfully, the octopus does want to help Jade, but doesn't immediately agree to do it because of his pride as a businessman).
Floyd also calls his old basketball buddies for help! Jamil and Ace are much more adamant than Azul, but Floyd strongarms them into pitching in. ("Umihebi-kun, Kani-chan, if you don't help me rescue Jade, I'll get suuuper mad, you know? I don't think you'll like me when I get mad. Moray eels are strong hunters, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem for me to track you guys down and give you a good squeeze~" "OKAY, OKAY, WE'LL DO IT!!")
Together, the four boys meet up to scheme of a way to disrupt the wedding without jeopardizing the Leech mob's future. Floyd actively leads the discussion, allowing his hidden genius to come to the surface.
Ace doesn’t contribute much to the strategy (laid out by Azul), but he does keep the spirit up with some jokes. Meanwhile, Jamil provides snacks for them when they work late into the night (though he keeps passing semi-glares to Azul whenever the octopus compliments him or tries to be friendly).
In preparation for the crashing, Azul brews some potions to give Jamil and Ace so they can take on temporary merforms. After all, the wedding will be underwater, in the Coral Sea, and they’ll need tail fins.
The date of destiny draws ever closer... and Floyd's never been so excited to cause chaos in his whole life.
The Crashing - Team Azul & Jamil
They split into two pairs on the day of the wedding—Azul and Jamil, and Floyd and Ace. Floyd uses his position as the future son-in-law to Don Worm to arrange a meeting between himself and the don... except Azul and Jamil will show up instead.
Don Worm shows up to the meeting in his finest clothes (which is very little, given that he’s a merman), sounding a bit annoyed the sudden summoning. “Make this quick, I’ve got to go see my baby girl’s big day... Wait. You fellas aren’t the F. Leech boy.”
“No, we aren’t, sir. We are his representatives... Proxies, if you will,” Azul insists, giving his warmest and most welcoming smile. He uses a tentacle to tug on Jamil’s tail, forcing him to smile too. “You see, there is an important business matter we needed to discuss with you on behalf of Floyd.”
“Hoh? And what would that be?”
“I believe my business associate would be better off explaining the matter than myself.” Azul gestures to Jamil, who has his head down.
“Oi, what’s with you? Don’t you know who I am, boy? It’s rude to not look your elders in the eye when they are speaking to you!! Show me the respect I deserve, from one professional to another!!”
“My apologies, sir.” Jamil looks up, locking eyes with the mob boss. “... Is this better?”
“Yes, that’s...”
“Snake Whisper.”
Don Worm suddenly goes glassy-eyed and slack-jawed. Azul claps at the sight, showering his partner with compliments. “As expected of the talented Jamil-san! Even one look from you can bring a mafia lord to his downfall. Truly, your Unique Magic is most impressive!”
“Save your flattery for later.”
Azul’s lips curl into a smirk as he whips out a golden contract from his briefcase and offers it to the don. “Now then, if you wouldn’t mind, sir... sign on the dotted line.”
The Crashing - Team Floyd & Ace
Ace and Floyd rush to the wedding venue, their tails cutting through the water like knives as they swim at a breakneck pace. Ace can barely keep up with Floyd, who surges far ahead.
“H-Hey, should we really be barging in like this?! Don’t mob families have weapons and other dangerous stuff? Is there a backdoor we can take instead? Hello?! Floyd-senpai, are you listening to me?!” (He isn’t.)
The open, underwater comes into view, and Floyd barrels in without any hesitation, tearing right through some decorations and knocking over the wedding cake with his tail. A loud CRASH! echoes through the waters, drawing eyes to him.
Jade stares at his brother from the altar—wide eyed, but a mirthful smile on his lips. Floyd waves to him, and then to his mom and dad in the crowd of guests. “Hiii, Jade! I’m here to pick you up now.”
The Worm girl starts sobbing, wailing something about how her special day’s been ruined, and where is her papa to put an end to this? At her signal, security guards, and some of the rougher looking guests—Worm family associates—lunge at Floyd, claws and teeth out. A few of them have produced wands, and what seem to be guns—loaded with harpoons.
“Bind the Heart!” Objects and stray magic go flying in all directions, hitting both people and wedding decorations. Cloth tears, columns crumble—but it’s one man against many, and he can only bind so many hearts before the blot starts to stack.
Ace makes it just in time, sending their foes and their weapons hurtling through the water with a blast of wind. “This is why I said to be careful, dammit! Your Unique Magic’s such a crapshoot—don’t just use it whenever, or you’ll be sushi!!!”
“Ahahahah! Kani-chan’s being all heroic today! That’s so cute. Don’t worry, I can play my part, too...!!”
Using his tail, Floyd hooks around a drifting merman and chucks him straight into another. They collide with a CRACK!—but Floyd barely registers it. He’s already bolting off, grabbing heads and smashing them together, slicing through others like a knife through butter.
There’s a crazed, frenzied look to him, gleeful laughter cutting through the waters and mixing with the Worm bride’s screeching. I forgot how scary Floyd-senpai can be, Ace realizes. (Jade and Floyd’s parents are cheering for him from their seats.)
Jade looks quite proud of his brother, even laughing along to the brutal slaughterfest. His bride stares at him incredulously. “Stop that brute! He’s ruining MY special day!!”
“No,” Jade replies calmly. “I don’t think I will. This is far too amusing to let it end so soon.”
She lets out a frustrated scream and launches herself at her groom, hands going for his throat. The Worm girl is slammed back with a strong hit to her gut, courtesy of Jade’s tail.
She flies back, slamming into a column—and feels a tail wrapping around her and squeezing tight. Constricting her to the point where it was difficult to breathe. A livid mermaid glares down at her, teeth bared in a snarl.
“No one lays a hand on my children,” Mama Leech declares. “No one.”
From the corner of her eye, the Worm girl can see that Jade has cast off his bow tie and flitted over to Floyd, embracing happily in a battlefield adorned with red ribbons trailing through the water. Her vision is abruptly blocked off by a broad-shouldered merman wearing a grimace.
“Now then, what shall we do with this one?” Papa Leech wonders aloud—though from his tone of voice, he has nothing good in store.
The Aftermath
“You’re all fish bait when daddy hears about this...!” the Worm girl warns, her words raspy. “Th-The merger won’t go through...! There’ll be war between the Leeches and the Worms...!”
A loud throat clearing comes from behind. “Fortunately, that won’t be happening.”
Azul and Jamil make their appearance, the octopus merman smugly showcasing a contract. “Ashengrotto—Azul Ashengrotto, legal and business extraordinaire at your service, Don Leech and Lady Leech.”
Papa Leech grunts. “What’s that you’ve got there?”
“This?” Azul’s smirk widens. “Why, it’s a prenuptial stating that, in the case that an act of violence is enacted by the bride toward the groom, the marriage is considered null and void... and the bride’s family assets are to be claimed by the groom. Signed by Don Worm himself.”
“Wh-What?! Impossible!! How did you get daddy to sign such a stupid deal?!”
“Oh,” Jamil says nonchalantly, “we have our ways.”
“So... Uh, Jade-senpai’s still gonna be the next Don Leech?! And he’s gonna be in charge of an even bigger and richer family... How is that any better than the situation before?! You’re just giving him more resources for committing crimes!”
At that moment, two hands come down on Ace’s shoulders, causing him to freeze up.
“Kani-chaaaaan! Everyone!! Thanks so much for your help~”
“Yes, you have my sincerest thanks, Ace-san, Jamil-san... Azul.”
“It is my pleasure to assist such VIP clients. Ah, but there remains the matter of my promised payment—” (Jamil and Ace internally groan at Azul’s words.)
“Payment?” Don Leech scoffs. “After the ballsy operation you boys pulled off today... I’m more inclined to give you job offers instead of a one time sum. How do you lads feel about being hired as the Leech family’s personal lawyer, interrogator, and... well, whatever the heart one is good at.”
“My, my! Such a generous and lucrative offer—“
“There is no way I’m accepting that, especially if that means working with Azul.”
“Oi, I’ll have you know I’m good at lots of stuff!! I’m the one that saved Floyd’s tail fins, is no one gonna acknowledge that?!”
“You did amazing, sweetie!!” Mama Leech chirps—her tail grip tightening until the Worm girl passes out. Ace leaps back in fright. “As a reward, why don’t you let me give you a hug?”
“S-STAY BACK!!”
“Ahahahah! Everyone’s getting along so well, Jade. Isn’t this fun? You wouldn’t be able to enjoy this if you had gone to get hitched.”
“Fufufu. You are correct, Floyd. How sad it would have been if I were to miss out on touching moments such as this. From the bottom of my heart... I thank you for thinking of me, and for rushing to my aid. I could not have asked for a better brother.”
... What Floyd doesn’t know is that this was all according to keikaku Jade’s own machinations. He would never take the order to marry lying down—but he couldn’t outright defy it without immediate consequences, either.
Thank the Great Seven Jade has reliable puppets friends to help him out of a pinch. I’ll be certain to put the additional funds we have gained to good use... Perhaps to start a little mushroom farm.
#Floyd Leech#Jade Leech#Azul Ashengrotto#Ace Trappola#Jamil Viper#twst#twisted wonderland#disney twisted wonderland#wedding crashing#spoilers
192 notes
·
View notes
Text
Season Two Episode Four
A 1918 timestamp ushers us into one of Downton’s more slow moving episodes where three parts painful banality has been mixed with one part life-or-death peril.
Providing more interesting political and cultural conflict than WW1 (at least at Downton) is Isobel’s ongoing grating at Cora’s very soul. Cora has had the temerity to ensure that the staff don’t collapse on their feet and has done something with the linen that I can’t quite fathom which, of course, Isobel takes as a slight upon her medical knowledge. Isobel makes the fatal error of calling Cora’s bluff threatening to ‘seek some other place’ if she is not appreciated at Downton. Major Clarkson also takes sides with Cora and Isobel now has no choice but to throw herself and her messiah complex upon the Red Cross in Northern France. I am sure they will be thrilled.
With Isobel’s departure, Moseley and Mrs Bird find themselves at a loss having deep cleaned the house and moaned about their employer’s eating habits. Turns out that one thing they forgot to do was deploy any semblance of a security system as a random man with a drama school limp wanders into the house looking for food. In a manner that would make the current Conservative front bench recoil with horror, Mrs Bird starts up a soup kitchen out of her own (presumably rather small) pocket. In her latest attempt to not do her job, Mrs Patmore drags Daisy out for some fresh air and in the process uncovers this particular bit of well meaning but financially unsustainable charity. Mrs Patmore scales up the operation, creating a “special storage area” to squirrel away surplus from the army’s stock, which O’Brien conveniently overhears (but to be honest, it’s not that much of a coincidence. I imagine most of the kitchen heard it considering that Mrs Patmore practically yelled it). In an effort to try and inject a bit of actual drama into this episode, O’Brien reports this to Mrs Hughes but (un)fortunately, Mrs Hughes could not care less. But after watching the world’s most appalling secret handover of goods in the village, O’Brien rallies and this time is successful in bringing Cora to the nefariously compassionate Bird-Patmore coalition. To absolutely everyone’s surprise (viewers included) Cora orders food to be taken from the house stock rather than army and with all the over-confidence of a consultant sets about re-arranging tables and streamlining the workflow.
Feeling much less charitable than Mrs Bird, Moseley heads to the Abbey and attempts to make himself indispensable and reach the dizzying heights of ‘Valet to the Earl of Grantham’. But not long after the peels of laughter that such a notion invites have died down, Bates returns and takes Mr Molesley’s shoehorn which one can’t help but think is emblematic of something. The return of Mr Bates is, naturally, a painfully protracted process that involves key protagonists not talking to each other, Thomas smoking on a wall, and the obligatory invocation of Kamal Pamuk. Robert invites Bates back to help him through the ‘veil of shadow’ and as such I was intrigued to learn that he is a World of Warcraft devotee. Bates reappearance downstairs also allows for the return of two other key Downton Abbey tropes: Anna and (John)Bates having a heart to heart under the cover of darkness, and Thomas and O’Brien’s irrational loathing/scapegoating of Britain’s most infuriatingly lovelorn character (outside of Thomas Thorne) to resume with aplomb.
Less happy to be within the confines of the Abbey is Edith who continues to signal that all of this is really a bit beneath her (certain elements quite literally). Ever the teacher’s pet, Mr Molesley reports the sighting of an Officer by the maid’s staircase to Mrs Hughes who hears that there have been lots of rumours on the timeline tonight and comes out to say that she does not live in a sack. Unfortunately, Major Bryant does not live in one but definitely frequents one and, as such, it is of course Ethel is dismissed. As she rapidly packs all her belongings, Anna pleas to Mrs Hughes on her behalf confirming that she is indeed the friend we all want but probably don’t deserve. But Mrs Hughes can’t get rid of her that easily as Edith (and passenger) skulk back to liven up the end of the episode with news of an oncoming baby *Eastenders drums intensify*.
Talking of undeserving relationships, Sybil and Branson receive more air-time than usual, providing the latter the opportunity to demonstrate that at times he really can be a muppet. And a slightly malevolent one at that. Sybil is firmly under the cosh this week with Violet making thinly veiled references to inappropriate alliances and Mary asking probing questions whilst she tries to get on with her job. Mary thinks that she has spotted her sister and Branson having some kind of romantic exchange but in reality, all that she has seen from afar is Branson telling Sybil that she is in love with him which when you think about it, is all kinds of awful and hardly the basis for a healthy relationship. After a long walk through the grounds where I am half expecting Branson to appear on a horse Willoughby-style, Sybil eventually caves and confesses to Mary that she doesn’t know if she likes Branson despite his eminently creepy voice over. Sybil then relays her sororal confidence and rather than taking this as an opportunity to ingratiate himself, Branson for whatever reason attempts to coerce Sybil into a relationship but not before he belittles her job. Sybil looks rightfully outraged as some equally emotionally manipulative strings wail in the background in an attempt to try and make us think that anything that has just happened was evenly slightly dreamy.
Threaded through this glacially paced episode has been the looming threat of a both a concert and the death of Matthew and (to a much lesser extent because that is how class works) William. In an effort to break the monotony of walking around the exact same bit of French trench (see previous re-caps for further details), William and Matthew take to wandering across some largely unadulterated land and into the path of some nonchalant Germans. Daisy’s lack of (presumably fawning) letters from William starts off a chain of enquiry which confirms that the War Office has declared Matthew and William missing enabling Mary to once again deploy her signature move: weeping into her gloves. But only one hand this time because she needs to keep a bit of composure for the show must go on! Apparently. Following some abysmal piano playing (I grew up in an appallingly musical household and we all had to endure the torture of other people at the early stages of learning an instrument. It was of course blissful when we got good but, heck, I was thrown straight back to the horror of it all with that ‘accompaniment’ and had an odd sort of stress response which I won’t describe here), Mary and Edith do a rendition of If You Were the Only Girl (In the World) as everyone looks on stony-faced before participating in the millenia’s most morose sing-a-long. With a very good sense of drama, Matthew and (to a much lesser extent) William make their return. Matthew takes his place at Mary’s side and joins in the signing to what is now presumably quite a bewildered audience. Ah, Downton.
Romantic declaration of the moment
Violet raises reasonable concerns about Richard Carlisle but Mary is more interested in expanding her real estate portfolio and agrees to throw her lot in with a fiscal agreement disguised as a marriage. Upon his ‘miraculous’ return, Matthew gives the union his blessing on the condition that Richard remains deserving. Not that he ever really was. But the sentiment is what matters here and what is more loving* than putting another’s presumed happiness before your own.
*there are actually a lot of other more loving things but in the interest of formatting, we’re going to sweep those under a very large rug for now.
Expressive eyebrow of the week
Rather than training as a nurse or being actually pretty useful in a convalescent home, Mary’s contribution to the war effort is being amicable with Edith. Violet declares that she has now “seen everything” as the spirit of Mrs Adelman moves on.
Wait, what?
“I wish we had a man” Presented without comment
“If I am not appreciated here, I will seek some other place” Yes. PLEASE.
“What must he do to persuade you he is in love with Lavinia? Open his chest and carve her name on his heart” No, Mary. Matthew merely needs to carve her name with a compass on his forehead to prove that…
youtube
“I hate the word ‘missing’. It leaves so much room for optimism.” Robert is a bit emotionally weird isn’t he?
“We haven't kissed or anything. I don't think we've shaken hands. I'm not even sure if I like him like that. He says I do, but I'm still not sure.” And lo, another red flag is raised. But because Branson is Downton’s version of a Bolshevik, both Mary and Sybil view this not as a warning about the boy’s behaviour but rather a symbol of his political leanings and such signals are duly ignored.
“He always seems a romantic figure to me” Daisy Robinson writes fanfic. Pass it on.
“Sometimes in war, one can make friendships that aren't quite…appropriate. And can be awkward, you know, later on. I mean, we've all done it.” Once again, Violet, tell us more!
Bates says that he has returned to “Downton at war” which sounds like a lucrative exhibition name if I ever did hear one.
Despite Mary’s most valiant efforts, no musical performance had ever gone out to such an impassive audience until Rosalind came along
youtube
Matthew of course is used to a much better quality sing-, sorry, song-a-long
youtube
#Downton#downton abbey#downton rewatch#Mary Crawley#Matthew Crawley#thomas barrow#thomas branson#mrs o'brien#Mrs Patmore#daisy mason#william mason#Cora Crawley#Lady Grantham#lord grantham#john bates#Joseph Molseley#anna bates#Youtube
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
About Jaune ships...
I have opinions. You may not agree, but they are mine. They may change in time, but not now.
LANCASTER ( RUBY X JAUNE )
The old tried and true. I mean, what's not to like? Cute girl falls for first guy she meets at Beacon? Classic romance trope, and after reading how much Ruby loves romance stories (I consider certain parts in the manga canon), it makes sense. In fact, after Arkos sank (A moment of silence, please . . . Thank you), many moved to Lancaster, which isn't bad. Happens all the time in fandoms. Sad thing, though, is far I think she'll last. If we're talking Volume 5 or earlier, then maybe. However, I feel if Ruby were to have an endgame in romance, it would be RoseGarden (I have opinions on that as well, but today isn't the day to discuss that), mostly because Oscar bumped Jaune's role from male lead to male side. Not to mention that while Jaune is becoming a beast in his own right, Ruby is a different creature altogether and evolving her character more rapidly and chaotically than anyone else (Must be all that screentime).
TLDR: I want it to be canon, but I might just be hoping.
WHITE KNIGHT ( WEISS X JAUNE)
Doofus in tin foil meets princess who hates daddy (Am I in the romance section of the library? You know, the corner for adults only?) No, but I do like this ship. I'm always a sucker for the fantasy genre, and using a zero to hero male makes it relatable. I also kind of ship it because the same reason I ship NaruSaku in the Naruto fandom: he likes her and he's willing to go the distance. But enough about that; instead let's talk about canon. Will they hook up? It's a soft maybe for me, for two reasons. 1. Rosegarden is most likely to be endgame, and after Ruby and Pyrrha, I'd say Weiss is Jaune's next to be his love interest. 2. Weiss has warmed up to Jaune. Sure, not lover or crush level (Yet), but she's definitely changed her opinion on him. In Volume 1, Jaune was bugging her, like all the time, which I could see as him getting mixed signals on (Exhibit A: Tall, blonde, and scraggly). When Volume 5 came around, everyone jumped onboard because he saved her life (Don't lie, because I'll admit that I did it, too). Not the best reason, but still reason enough, I'd say. Then in Volume 7, she hangs out with him and Oscar to the movies (It was either that or awkward Bumbleby all night. I feel ya, sister). Nothing romantic happens, but it does show how much their relationship has developed. If Weiss is Jaune's endgame, then they have set the pieces up perfectly to do so.
TLDR: High likelihood to be canon and I'm a sucker for Knight/Princess ships.
KNIGHTSHADE ( BLAKE X JAUNE)
This is the part where I say definitely not. Not in a million years, but I'll explain why I like the ship, though. As for why it won't work, the answer is Bumbleby. They haven't kissed yet, but you know they're going to eventually (Because if they don't, the fans will attack like a swarm of hornets). But here's the question you might be asking now: why do I ship this? Well, it's part of the allure of "opposites attract" ('Cause I'm dressed like a cat!). Blake is an intelligent, outspoken, and agile ninja with a criminal history of terrorism who spends her free time reading novels. Jaune is a B at best on his tests, soft-hearted, and ground-based knight who's worst crime is fraud (Still a crime, but peanuts compared to literal terrorism) and spends his free time hanging out with his team. Day and night. But they also tried that with Sun for a season and a half and it didn't last (BECAUSE BEES).
TLDR: Not even a snowball's chance in the summer sun, but so much story potential if you do (Which I do)!
DRAGONSLAYER ( YANG X JAUNE )
This, I would say, is the opposite of Knightshade, where Jaune is the day and Blake is night, here Yang is the Sun and Jaune is the Moon (Like their crests! Remember those? Y'know, when they were relevant?) Will it work? Even less so than Knightshade. However, it does open up some interesting paths considering how... provocative Yang can be, and Jaune, compared to the other guys, is the nerdiest, geekiest dude at Beacon. It's like the cheerleader/nerd romance, except the cheerleader is the captain of every sports team... and rides a motorcycle. The Volume 8 preview introduced us to Yang and Jaune riding motorcycles and we went nuts over it. Yang was back in her element, roaring down the street, riding on walls, popping off tricks with Oscar riding- Back to what I was saying, people were asking, "How did he know how to ride a motorcycle?" and the elementary answer is "He didn't." He almost fell off his bike from a small box in the road. True, anyone would, but look at how he reacts: he stiffens, he refocuses on the road. This kid literally started riding at breakfast, and I DARE you to prove me wrong. But hey, great fic material right there, though, eh?
TLDR: Never gonna happen, but I don't care. All I care about is writing that they love each other. And they also fu-!
ARKOS ( PYRRHA X JAUNE )
I'm sorry, I need a moment. . . . Alright. Do it for her. This ship... was perfect. Probably the best ship out them all. I legit almost cry every time I think about Volume 3. Pyrrha was everyone's favorite. Her background, her interactions, her choreography, everything! But, of course, like everything in our lives, she was too good to be true. But let's honor her memory by talking about her ship, Arkos. Pyrrha was the champion of the world, the Brothers' and Oums' gift to Remnant. She could do no wrong and she HATED it. Her plight was with how she was seen. Everybody knew her! Everybody, except Jaune. And he only figured out she was "a big deal" was because Weiss had to spell it out for him! As time went on, they became the best of friends, two peas in a pod, the perfect odd couple! They worked together and trusted each other, they cared for and supported each other, they lo- No. No, I can't say it. It's been years, and it still hurts. So, I'll explain something else: the reason why Jaune SHOULD NOT be shipped right now. That reason is Pyrrha. Jaune was helpless to save her. He's suffering from survivor's guilt and he's still grieving. In Volume 4, he would sneak away and train until late at night to scroll recording of her. In Volume 5, he confronted Cinder and got Weiss almost killed because he let his grief for Pyrrha take control of him and let his emotions run wild. In Volume 6, he finds the Pyrrha statue and he... I don't know how to say this, but he let's go. He accepts that Pyrrha is gone and he's starting the healing process. He's finally ready to move forward.
TLDR: T.T I never felt that it was wise to wish too much~
MARTIAL ARCS ( REN X JAUNE)
I'll be honest, I don't really ship it. Yeah, it's cute, and it falls perfectly into the "if I had to pick a guy" part of me, but to be honest, I don't ship it. 10% because Renora and 90% it just doesn't click with me. They both just seem too soft, too quiet, too introverted. Best friends? Yes, definitely! But lovers? Eeeeeh, not really.
TLDR: I will only ship as neccessary.
NORA'S ARC ( NORA X JAUNE )
I've only just got in this deep with the fandom only recently, so I don't know if a lot of you know me. Heck, I'm probably just some RWBY fan you happen to spot as you move through your dash. However, old or new, I want to be made absolutely positively clear on this. Of all the ships here, this has got to be my-
O T FUDGIN' P
Wow! Never thought I'd feel so strongly about a crack ship like this. And yes, as sad it is to say, this is a crack ship. Renora was planned from day one, so it can't be helped. At least it didn't blast me in the face all of the sudden (OH NO, NOT THE BEES! AAAAARGH! THEY'RE IN MY EYES!). But why this ship? Well, for one thing, it's that whole opposites attract thing with Nora as the bubbly, outspoken, airhead powerhouse and Jaune as the soft spoken, introverted, nerd tactician. But wait, there's more to this trope, because it can go deeper: Order VS Chaos! Who makes all the messes? Who cleans up those messes? Who follows all the rules? Who makes their own doors? It's just. So. Damn! GOOD! One sad thing about this ship though is that it's not only not canon because of Renora, it's anti-canon because Renora. Every fan fic of Nora's Arc requires an explanation for Ren and Nora to not be together-together, like you have to write a formal apology to the FNDM for liking something that's different from what is canon or commonly accepted. If that's the case, then I'll be the anarchist here!
TLDR: I LOVE IT! What's that? Not canon? Who gives a damn?! I just explained why Jaune won't be shipped anyways! Now, if you'll excuse, I have some fan fics to find.
ARCFALL ( CINDER X JAUNE )
Oh, here it goes! Now, if we're talking ships that'll never happen, this is where we find better reasons than "it's not canon" and "character development". No, this... This is a declaration of war. Allow me to explain. Cinder Fall is evil. Like, down to her core. She wants power and she'll cut through anyone to get to it. Including Pyrrha. This woman sank Arkos by means other than "X and Y kissed, so..." She killed X, leaving Y alone. And her interactions with Jaune tell me she wouldn't even be worth a hate-bang. But, as Momma always, there's a thin line between love and hate. This is where the appeal comes in. Cinder is evil with no past, which leaves the previous chapter's of her life story blank to be filled in. Jaune is good with a troublesome, albeit easy past, but untapped potential for more. It's another opposites attract, but different from INTRO VS EXTRO and CHAOS VS ORDER; this is GOOD VS EVIL. Who will win this battle of wills; will our hero purify the tainted heart, or will he slip deeper into darkness, never to return to the light?
TLDR: Should be a NOTP, and yet the allure pulls me in.
What do y'all think? Do you agree? Let me know!
#rwby#jaune arc#my thoughts#jaune arc ships#ruby rose#ruby rose x jaune arc#weiss schnee#weiss schnee x jaune arc#whiteknight#white knight#knightshade#dragonslayer#bumbleby#blake belladonna#blake belladonna x jaune arc#yang xiao long#yang xiao long x jaune arc#yang xiao long x blake belladonna#pyrrha nikos#arkos#Pyrrha nikos x jaune arc#nora valkryie#nora's arc#nora valkyrie x lie ren#renora#nora valkyrie x jaune arc#arcfall#cinder fall#cinder fall x jaune arc
307 notes
·
View notes
Text
PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 19
First time reader click here
Summary+TWs: We're talking serious feelings here, okay? Reader, you're literally emotionally illiterate. You also have PTSD, which is finally addressed - kinda. Bruce does his best. And he also knows how to kiss... But y'all know that if you read my ramblings about lucid dreaming/shifting/whatever... Chile-, anyways...
My phone kept buzzing and I ignored it until Bruce declared it was time to take a break and review the results. Whilst the man was typing up the data on a nearby StarkPad, I fought the sudden influx of messages that I received from haters and supporters alike after Tony decided on tweeting a reply that could be interpreted in an alarming variety of ways. It was a smart move, I'll admit, but a fucking bother for me nonetheless.
Disabling my DMs and dealing with a follower increase in the thousands wasn't hard; I didn't consider myself a problematic asshole and didn't need to be afraid of "exposure". The parties I went to - I doubted there was any blackmail material in there and the few nudes I'd sent over the years were always face-less. As a gen Z, I knew my internet safety.
The trolls didn't bother me either. It was more sad than annoying, people shitting on others for clout. Iron Man stans were witty, at least, if jealous. I must admit I've never considered the influx of popularity I would experience should I publicly out myself as a friend of Tony's. Girlfriend? Intern? Science child? Whatever cover story he was going to feed the press worked for me, as long as I still got the hugs, the kisses, the dick and the attention.
"Tony..." Bruce groaned, evidently done with the data processing, had to have opened his social media to see his own skyrocketing popularity.
"Yeah, our Tony is being a Tony again," I chuckled, having reset my social media settings so my phone wouldn't constantly beep, vibrate and bother me. School was going to be fun.
Bruce shook his head, fond, coming over to my side of the lab after removing his own hazmat suit. His eyes shiny with newfound knowledge and hair turned adorably fluffy in the confines of the head covering. He was smiling softly. "Food?"
"Sure."
We chewed our sandwiches in silence for a moment, each of us lost in our thoughts.
"I still can't believe Tony told everyone on Twitter you're his girlfriend, usually he keeps this stuff private or schedules a fancy press conference," Bruce's tone was thoughtful.
I raised an eyebrow. "Is that what it was? Seemed ambiguous to me..." I trailed off, confused.
"He worded it like that on purpose, I mean, you're still in high school," The scientist was confident in his words. "But I know Tony. I'm a hundred percent sure that he meant exactly that. Aren't you?"
Shock flooded me. Suddenly, I understood I completely misread the situation. "Um, no? I thought we were, y'know, just fucking. We never defined our relationship and we're definitely not exclusive." I said, chewing on my lip. "You make a valid argument, I'm a high school student and he's a grown ass man that does grown man stuff. Putting aside the fact that he could have anybody in the world so why would he choose me?" I was rambling, thinking out loud. Discussing my feelings has never my strong forte. "It would be stupid to impose monogamy on such a complex man like Tony. Downright idiotic to expect a genius to confine to social norms just because it suits others." I finished with a wave of my hand. Another bubble of thought that had festered within me for the longest time. I felt relieved, finally voicing it out loud. A weight had been lifted off my shoulders, a weight I wasn't previously consciously aware of.
Bruce was watching me intently, with an unreadable expression that held the tiniest bit of awe, admiration perhaps. The silence that followed was unnerving. I fidgeted with my hands, not really knowing where to put them or where to look.
"You know," He took off his glasses, fiddling them in his hands. "I'm not going to sugar coat it. For the longest time, I thought you were going to inadvertently hurt him when you get bored with whatever you've got going on. I respect you, don't misunderstand me, but you are young. Now, I've changed my mind. You've changed my mind," He punctuated his statement with his hand on mine, grasping it. "I think you managed to understand him in a way most people can't. Or don't want to. Understand and accept him in a way that some of us can't even after years of working and living side by side with him." Bruce's gentle fingers skimmed along the top of my palm.
"I don't always understand Tony but I do accept him," I agreed. "Because Tony is a great man."
"I think you're in love with him," Bruce said, absolutely having ignored my previous statement. Just like that, point blank, he pushed to the surface the very feelings I got so good at ignoring. There was no rest for me in this place.
My heart fluttered, picking up the pace. I kept my mouth shut, not trusting it whatsoever. My thoughts became akin to panicked hares, jumping and zigzagging aimlessly in my skull. I didn't see the point in defending myself because the scientist had pointed out the obvious.
Bruce looked at me, softly, warmly. "And don't think we haven't noticed the rise in team morale. The improvement not only in communication, but on the battlefield, too. It's easier to entrust your back to someone with whom you've shared a laugh and a drink the previous night. You're the glue that keeps us together."
Something warm and wet was on my cheeks. I stared at our clasped hands, his words echoing in my head over and over and over. The moment I realized I was crying, I willed myself to stop and failed spectacularly - only more salty fluid streamed down, some of it getting in my nose, on my lips. The sleepless nights were making me unstable.
It took a single sniffle for Bruce to pick me up and wrap up in his kind embrace. I didn't resist, tucking my face into the crook of his neck, holding onto the back of his lab coat, inhaling the smell of his skin and chemicals. It was familiar, calming. Minutes ticked by with me slowly leaking the tension out of my body.
"He loves you, too, maybe he just doesn't realize it yet." Bruce whispered into my hair. "I've never seen Tony so happy, even with Pepper. You are special and you are loved."
There was something unsaid, I felt it. It hung in the ear, it burned the tips of my ears, stood sharp on the tip of my tongue. "I love you too, Bwucie-bear," I whispered into the space between his ear and his jaw. His arms tightened around me.
The man placed several chaste kisses in my hair, running a palm over my back. In moments like these, the crush for him, the very crush that got out of control, blossomed fully into a deep sense of respect and admiration. He made me feel safe. He said all the right words at the right time.
Drowsiness overtook me. As usual, any worries and anxieties I had evaporated, once Banner had his arms around me, shielding me from the world. I didn't forbid myself this time: delicately, my hand slipped through the man's soft messy curls, eliciting a contented sigh.
"You haven't been sleeping well," He more stated than asked.
I had no choice but to nod. "Clint keeps dying in my dreams. Or even worse, he doesn't, he just suffers, endlessly, painfully." I admitted.
Bruce flinched under me, tensing. My face was in between his hands in a second, the scientist sternly looking into my eyes. "Why didn't you say anything? All of us assumed you were okay after what happened." He looked - angry. Not Hulk-out pissed but Bruce-pissed, which equalled a kicked-puppy look seasoned with a great pinch of disappointment.
"I am okay." I lied, shamelessly. "It's getting better. That's why I want to have a party - relax a little, dance, socialize. I don't think Tony would let me go on my own so I figured I can convince him to throw one here." I looked away. It was better for everyone if I dealt with my own problems - they were superheroes, not babysitters.
Bruce frowned. "Why wouldn't Tony let you go?"
"Because of that one time I snorted coke," I rolled my eyes at Bruce's naiveté, leaving the less obvious parts unsaid. Tony knew exactly what I was going to do once I got free reign, he considered it destructive and told me so himself. Admittedly, he had a point but still... I wished I'd been given a choice.
"I'll talk to him," Bruce nodded firmly. "That's not acceptable. He can't forbid you from making mistakes and learning from them."
He was met with my shrug. No excitement came from me regarding this particular turn of conversation. I was drained, limbs like jello, thoughts sluggish. My face was drooping.
"Let's get you to bed," Banner stood up with me wrapped around him. "You need a nap."
"No," I protested. If I went to sleep now, only Satan knew at what ungodly hour I would wake up.
"Yes, Princess," Bruce smirked. I wiggled uncomfortably - when he went all caretaker like, my ovaries wreaked havoc on my body and brain. My thoughts weren't appropriate if Bruce wanted me to see him as a father figure. The signals he was sending were mixed. People around me did that a lot and I wasn't sure how to act so I usually just went with the flow. I decided to do the very same thing in that particular moment.
Curiosity sparked within me, tightly interwoven with the deep longing that settled below my collarbones whenever Tony or one of the others wasn't sitting next to me or talking my ear off. I've almost forgotten how it was to be alone with my thoughts. The maze of my very own self was becoming unfamiliar territory. Alarming.
I allowed Bruce to help me shed my shoes and outer layer of clothing, shivering in the coolness of my room. Despite being a frequent visitor, I still had a 'guest' room in the tower - I mostly stayed at Tony's or Wanda's anyways. During our sleepovers neither me nor the witch minded sharing her enormous bed, to be fair, we could have fit at least two more people in it besides us. Tony took care of his own - all the tower's residents had their apartments furnished with the best stuff.
"Sleep now, Princess," Bruce chastised, tucking a blanket around me, having noticed an earbud in my ear and my smartphone in my hand. I had hoped to kill some time online, damn well knowing sleep wouldn't come easy.
"I don't think I can fall asleep, Bruce," I admitted, looking away. There was just so much going on. My brain wouldn't shut up and if I couldn't drown out the cacophony by being productive, I'd troll the internet, as usual.
Banner sighed, coming to sit next to me, leaning against the headboard. Gently running his fingers through my hair, brushing the outside of his palm against my cheek. "How do you usually deal with this?"
Involuntarily, my eyelashes fluttered. "Tony does most of the work," I admitted coyly. The engineer had a whole arsenal of tricks up his sleeve - sexy and exhausting tricks.
"I see," Bruce muttered, thoughtfully.
I opened my eyes to see him looking down at me with a look I haven't seen before. The usual mildly absent, slightly anxious face he wore was replaced by something I could only describe as hurt envy, like a kid looking at their schoolmate who had all the newest, coolest toys. I used to be on the receiving end of that look far too often and I hated it.
I hid my face against his leg, rubbing my cheek on the raspy corduroy fabric of his pants. "Got any good ideas of your own?" I wondered lowly, thinking about what in the world possessed Bruce to wear corduroy trousers on a semi-casual day, in the twenty-first century.
"Only bad ideas," He replied in a matching low tone. His soft fingertips relocated to my nape, goosebumps rising down my back.
"Humour me," I grinned against his leg.
Bruce was quiet for a moment, the sound of his thinking screaming louder than any words could have done. Knowing the scientist so closely, I found out he was full of surprises - bolder than he appeared outwardly and competitive to a boot. He thought he had a lot to prove to himself and by extension, to others. The unknown, the mystery dangling in front of my nose was exhilarating, trepidation addictive. It took me away from the chaos in my mind.
A gentle grasp on my chin had me turning to look upwards, Bruce's face flushed and focused on my own, open and trusting. He needed to see the obvious, that I trusted him to take care of me. He pulled and I followed, sitting up on my elbows, coming up to his shoulder level, our faces inches apart, enveloped in the unique, intense scent of his herbal tea. It was a tart, strong smell and it suited his quiet but passionate character.
Once, twice, I caught my eyes sliding to his plump lips. They looked far too appealing in this position. I usually strategically stayed away from positions so compromising, fearing the very thing that I'd already let happen, however this time the atmosphere was different. We stood on ambiguous grounds, waiting for Bruce to make a decision.
The man wasn't stupid, he saw the way I looked at him. The nightmares and inability to take a break from life put a significant dent in my resolve to keep a distance between us, romantically - I could have settled even for a pity kiss, a pity fuck. Anything to put my brain on pause.
His lips were softer than I had imagined. Skilled, too, he easily steered the kiss into the shallow waters of our combined longing.
With Tony, it was like an avalanche. Tony ran hot like Peterbilt engines, hard and fast, almost angry in his race for satisfaction. Tony was a man that was used to getting whatever he wanted and it became plainly obvious when we fucked.
Bruce was the opposite. He savoured the kiss, losing himself in a way that could almost be described as delicate. Bruce was humming, softly, as we tasted each other, holding the left side of my face with careful fingertips. Almost as if he was afraid to break me. The feel of his skin on mine was soothing in a way that made me sigh and relax even further.
"Wanna make you feel good." His voice had dropped, gone husky, but his breathing held even. He must know all about self-control.
"Yeah," I was ready to agree with whatever the fuck he was offering. My eyelids remained shut.
THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie
PS. Letsby, please don't combust. The underwear is coming off in the next chapter. 😶
#bruce banner x you#bruce banner x reader#bruce banner fluff#bruce banner x y/n#tony stark x y/n#tony stark x you#tony stark x reader#stephen strange x y/n#stephen strange x you#stephen strange x reader#party favours#bun writes
105 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fall to Pieces
Rafe Cameron x Y/N
An unexpected and unnecessary part 2 to Lists, though it can be read as a stand-alone.
Y/N helps Rafe get sober after he told her what he had done. She’s conflicted because now she’s getting glimpses of a better Rafe but she can’t forget or forgive him so he makes it right the only way that he knows how.
WC: 5,308
Warning: smut, mentions of shooting the sheriff (but he did not shoot the deputy), mentions of jail, mentions of drugs and withdrawals, mentions of funerals (they think Sarah and John B are dead), spoilers, unprotected sex, mention of birth control, mentions of anger, mentions of parental unit dying/going to jail, mentions of PTSD, mentions of nightmares, y/n pulls a knife out on Barry and regrets it immediately, mentions of drugs
A/N: Hello! Thank you for taking the time to even look at this fic, I worked really long and hard on it and I had a great time writing it. It was my first time ever writing smut so if it sucks, I’m so sorry. I’m also running on no sleep because I’ve been editing this all night. That being said, I tried my best to proofread, I’m sure that there are tons of mistakes anyway. Again, thank you for reading my fic! I ended it the only way that felt right to me. Oh, and it’s inspired by Fall to Pieces by Avril Lavigne
It’s been 7 months since Rafe showed up at your door and ripped your heart out of your now gaping chest. 6 months and three weeks since his family held a funeral for his sister in which he couldn’t attend because he was going through withdrawals. 6 months since his friends and family started asking you about his whereabouts. You’ve lied to everyone you knew back on the Outer Banks, telling them that you haven’t seen him since that summer.
You’ve convinced yourself that you were okay with taking care of him even if you weren’t together but for the first three weeks while he was at his worse, every time you had to touch him, you wanted to throw up (most times you did). You just can’t help but picture him killing Peterkin, sometimes you have dreams where you see it happen and you didn’t do anything to stop it, then you’d wake up next to him and have to move to the sofa just from the disgust. Though you’re not exactly sure what really happened that day, and he wouldn’t tell you, your overactive imagination filled in the blanks for you every night for those first few weeks.
The fifth week was better, in the sense that your disgust was slowly being taken over by hate. You hated that he had put you in this situation. You hated that you allowed yourself to care enough to take care of him. You hated that you love him but most of all, you hate his father for screwing up his children so much that one would rather die than go back to him and the other couldn’t stay sober long enough to know right from wrong.
You were also able to convince your parents to help you co-sign and move into a house near the school instead of staying in the dorms. You said that it’s because of all the teens partying around you and that you couldn’t concentrate on studying but really, it’s because of the noise complaints that you’ve been getting. It’s been hell studying for finals while sleeping next to someone going through cold shakes or nightmares. You’ve told yourself multiple times that Rafe was going through withdraws while also suffering from PTSD but it didn’t make you feel any better when you started missing classes or came home to your living room completely destroyed because he had a rage fit due to the cravings. You’ve offered to send him to rehab but he wanted no trace of where he could be so you complied.
A month after getting everything straightened out, you were finally moving out. You were happy that you could go further into the city where Rafe could go out more, spend more time around other people than surround himself with his mistakes, and four walls. Though the process wore on him, you could tell that he was becoming a better person. He was more patient and understanding. It would be a lie to say that his fuse wasn’t still just as bad when someone would trigger it but it seems you’ve been doing a lot of that anyway—lying.
Seven months into living together and him finally being sober, you want to say that he reminds you of the old Rafe but he doesn’t. He’s much more mature, his sad eyes tell a story that he’s seen way too much, too soon. Some days, you wish that you could take his pain away. Other days, you wish that he’d drown in it…at least you wish you thought that.
Renting a U-Haul, and maybe to fill your own fantasy of moving in together like a normal couple in college, you had Rafe help you pack. Was it a good idea? Probably not. Most of the time you ended up yelling at him for packing the bedroom things with the living room items. When you saw him put the dishes in with the DVDs, you had banished him to the house for the rest of the day, telling him that you’d pack the kitchen away by yourself. You were happy that you’d actually done that though because it gave you the excuse to give the two of you some space. You had found yourself getting close to him again. Leaning in when you laughed, touching his arm to show him something on your phone or when you window shop. You didn’t want to give him mixed signals but how could you not when you’re confused yourself?
So, you left Rafe unpacking all the boxes of clothes and moving around the furniture while you came back and tackled the kitchen. You almost wished that you had asked him to come along just for his company but after waking up in his arms last night, groggy from being tired, you figured that it was best to put some distance between the two of you.
A soft knocking sounded from your door and the smile that appeared on your face should’ve been criminal. You were almost too happy to see him. You couldn’t—wouldn’t let yourself forget what he did, though it was hard to remember when you’ve never seen Rafe in that state. Pushing your thoughts aside for the millionth time, you yanked the door open, your smile immediately dropping. You tried to shut the door as quickly as you opened it but a hand lands in the middle of the door and pushes it open the rest of the way.
“Now, that’s no way to greet an old friend,” Barry said, as condescending as ever.
“You’ve lost that title the minute you started selling drugs,” you narrowed your eyes at him.
He was right. Barry and you go way back, back before you were considered a “kook”, before you even knew what it meant to be a part of figure 8. Well, technically your moms go way back. You two were destined to be friends since you’ve come out of the womb. You shared secrets, scars, heartbreaks, skinned knees, all the same. You held him when his mom died and invited him over to your place every single day, unknowingly introducing him to his future clients. Your mom loved him like a child and if you ate, he ate. Until, of course, you started dating Rafe at fifteen and Barry started finding new friends. About a year later, the friendship was over. One night you walked in on him selling drugs to Rafe. You told them both that you wanted nothing to do with either of them if Barry kept selling and Rafe kept distributing but neither of them listened. Barry continued selling but stopped coming around, breaking your mother’s heart. As for Rafe, well, we know that story.
“Yes, of course. Big, bad, naughty, Barry,” he rolled his eyes and though his words had a hint of humor, his eyes did not. He shoved past you and made his way inside your apartment.
“What do you want?” You said in a clipped tone, eyeing his figure to see if he has any visible weapons on him or not because last time he showed up at your apartment, he was not so kind.
“Rafe,” Barry said matter of factly with a bright smile. As if he wasn’t talking about someone who supposedly dropped off the face of the earth seven months ago.
You stared at him and shrugged, “your guess is as good as mine.”
“Y/n, I’m not going to ask you twice and I don’t exactly do well to being lied to, where is Rafe?” He leaned against the refrigerator with his arms crossed in front of his chest, eyeing you.
“I haven’t seen him,” you lied through gritted teeth. You backed yourself into your kitchen, feeling comfort that there was an exit behind you while Barry was in your line of sight.
“Baby, if you only knew what he’s done, you wouldn’t be protecting him right now,” Barry chuckled as he took a step towards you, “he owes me a debt and I’ve given him long enough. Now, I’m here to collect. Listen, it’s either me or the SBI, it’s your choi-,” he didn’t have the time to finish before you found your hand wrapped around your kitchen knife bringing the blade down on the sink beside you.
You tried to speak between breaths, “Stop it! Stop!”
Barry’s irritating smile has finally dropped from his face. His hands out in front of him as if he was prepared for you to lose it and charge at him...and maybe you might. At this point, you’re not really sure what you planned to do. You just needed to protect Rafe.
“He’s mine,” you breathe out a declaration you haven’t let left your lips since the night of Rafe’s confession, “you don’t get to take him, the SBI doesn’t get to take him, fucking death doesn’t get to take him from me without my permission. Now, get the fuck out of my apartment right now because I do not know where he is and if I did, I would never tell you,” you said with an eerie calm washing over you. You keep taking steps toward Barry who hasn’t moved back once.
“Come at me, baby, I have nothing to lose,” Barry said with his arms at his side, faking vulnerability while his shifty eyes were telling another story.
“Yes, you do,” you assured him, “We both do, but the difference between us is that I’m willing to lose it all. Are you?”
“You think I’m going to just forget what his little sister did? She stole from me. Now I have leverage over my best seller— my best thief, and you want me to let that slide because a chick with a knife who can’t even keep it steady enough to point at me wants to threaten me? I’ll come back every single day if I have to.”
“His little sister is dead, haven’t you heard? Her and John B got washed away in the storm and you still have the nerve to talk about her? You can come back every day if you want to. I’ll give you the keys to the place. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t live here anymore.” You gestured toward the empty living room and the boxes beside the two of you.
For the first time, Barry let his guard down long enough to take a look around the apartment.
“I left him,” you continued your half-lie. You did leave Rafe, at your new house, “when I found out what happened, I left him and I couldn’t handle being on campus where I knew he could find me,” where you knew anyone else could find him, “so I’m leaving.” You shrugged, feigning indifference. Setting the knife down on the sink as if that wasn’t the most insane thing that you’ve ever done. You dug into your purse. “Here’s something for your troubles, yeah?” Your mother always told you to have cash on you and finally, it has come in handy, you pulled around about three grand, almost 1/3 of what you got for selling your car.
“Take it,” you shoved the money against his chest. With no hesitation Barry’s clammy hands landed on yours, pressing both your hand and the money against his chest. The contact instantly brought you back from your previous panic. You couldn’t even believe that you had pulled a knife out on him, what were you even going to do with it? It’s not like you were…it’s not like you were Rafe. At the realization, you met Barry’s eyes with so much sadness, “this is the last thing I’m going to do for you, Barry. For your mom, I hope you can get a real job one day,” you said sincerely.
“Always had a thing for the bad boys, huh, y/n?” Barry said, the joking tone in his voice disappearing as he took the money from underneath your palm, letting your hand fall.
“Just the lost ones,” you admitted, “goodbye, Barry.”
He pocketed the cash, giving you one last look before turning around and leaving you to the boxes.
The house was surprisingly mostly unpacked, except for the two new boxes that you had brought back with you, though in your defense, you didn’t have a lot of things to begin with. After a long-needed shower—more so on Rafe’s part since you left him to do the grunt work all day, you had fixed up dinner for the both of you.
Something had shifted inside of you since the talk with Barry. You could no longer ignore your feelings now that they’re right in your face but you’re still so conflicted. You love Rafe. You love him so much and he’s sober and trying for the first time. You’re seeing him in a new light but today, after picking up that knife, you can’t get over the horrible things that he’s done and it’s tearing you apart inside.
From the archway of the kitchen, you can’t help but look at the boy on your sofa. He’s probably watching some dumb show, his long legs stretched out in front of him while he’s nursing a bottle of water, the sadness in his eyes looking more and more permanent. Your fists clenched up beside you as tears threaten to fall as you made your way in front of him. You can’t count the number of times you’ve seen him like this, the number of times you’ve fantasized about him like this but with your children crawling all over him as you’d laugh and sip a cup of coffee. Now that’s really all it’ll be, a fantasy.
Rafe had set the bottle on the coffee table in front of him as if sensing a confrontation coming on and it fueled your anger even more. You hated that he knew you so well and that you two were so well connected that you could both feel the shift of the energy between the two of you without saying one word. You finally made it in front of him, your knees touching, you couldn’t take your eyes off of his.
He waited, looking back at you as your tears fell from your face and his hands twitched like he wanted to reach out towards you but thought better of it.
“I hate you,” you said pathetically as your shoulders slumped. You angrily wiped away your tears as you shook your head at him. The boy who once was your dream. Rafe didn’t even flinch at your words, he knew it already. He hoped that you’d change your mind about him but he knew from the very first night that things would never be the same.
Without saying a word, Rafe reached for your fists, kissing your knuckles knowing that you’d never use them against him. As if apologizing for even causing you to form them.
“I hate you so much and I can’t forgive you for what you did; I’ve tried,” you said through your tears, “but I also love you so much,” you whispered your confession. His head snapping up at you, searching for your lies and finding none.
Before you could even think, one of his arms snakes around your waist, pulling you down to straddle him as the other came up to your face, forcing you to now look up at him.
“You still love me?” Rafe finally spoke, brushing away a few of your tears with the pad of his thumb.
“I’ve always loved you but you make me hate you,” you said as you leaned your face against his palm, missing the feeling of intimacy with him.
It was almost like something had changed within him, as if he was arguing with himself and finally made up his mind when he leaned in closer to your face, his lips brushing against yours, “Don’t. Tonight just, just love me, okay?”
How could you say no to that? You nodded and it takes him all but a second for his lips to touch yours, knowing that the minute you gave him an inch, he’d take a mile.
The kiss was electric. It was something that you had no idea you were even craving until his were on yours and you couldn’t get enough. Your tongue swiped at his lower lip, taking it in between your teeth and giving him a soft bite, using his gasp as an invitation for your tongue to enter his mouth. Rafe didn’t deny you as his hands worked his way to your hips that’s been subconsciously rocking against his. You worked your hands up his shirt, lingering on his abs, feeling them expand and contract with every breath he takes before removing your lips from his just to pull off his shirt.
Heavenly. It was the only word that came to your mind when you looked at his body. Rafe didn’t give you much time to marvel at the sculpted figure that is his body before pulling your face towards his again, “fuck, y/n,” Rafe breathe and it sent a shiver down your spine. You can already feel the wetness pooling between your legs, knowing full well that the thin layer of your pajama pants is doing nothing but allowing him to feel it, too. Just like how you can feel him grow underneath you, making you whimper when you rock against him the right way. You made your way down his neck, kissing and biting him, marking him like you were teenagers again. Rafe growled at you when you bit a little bit too hard into his shoulder.
“Y/n, baby,” Rafe rasped, trying to get your attention but it was useless, “princess,” he said almost inaudible as you were about to rub out your own orgasm against him. Suddenly, his hand came down hard on your backside, and instead of yelping, you moaned for him to go harder which all but caused him to pull you away from him. Your arms suddenly empty and your chest heaving, you looked at Rafe’s plump lips and eyes that are dark with desire. He stood up and didn’t waste a moment, he allowed you to jump onto him, supporting your weight with his arms around you.
You quickly yanked off your top, allowing your breast to press up against him when you wrap your arms around his neck, “I need you,” you admitted against his neck. More than he knew. In more ways than he could give but for now, you could accept him like this. You felt your back slam against the wall as he fists your hair in his hands, forcing your head back so he could kiss your neck and leave some marks of his own. By the time he reached your bed, you needed your release. He had set you down on the bed, almost too gently. You reached for his pants but his fingers wrapped around your wrist, “I want to taste you first,” he said with what you thought was supposed to be a smile but he was already preoccupying himself with pulling off your shorts. You were almost sure that he moaned just by the sight of your spread legs as if he hadn’t already seen you like this a hundred times.
You laid back and spread your legs further, reaching for his head with his hand but instead he interlocked his fingers with yours saying, “don’t rush me, princess, I want to remember this.” It felt like an eternity before you felt his lips on your inner thigh, causing your body to shudder. Slowly, you felt his tongue delve into you, flicking your clit just right enough for you to buck your hips against him. He wrapped his lips around your clit as his tongue worked it just the way you liked until your nails are leaving marks on him as you scream, “Yes, Rafe, right there, please don’t stop!” Your words along with your moans, giving him the confidence that he still remembers how to make you cum; and you did. Hard. You could’ve sworn that you went cross-eyed for a moment as your thighs attempted to shut around his head. He brought his hands up to hold them back as he continued, bringing on another shaking orgasm.
“I need you in me, Rafe,” you said as this point, almost delirious but you needed the closeness. “I need you to fuck me like you just—like you hate me,” you said but you weren’t sure if you meant it. Granted, in your state, you’d take him any way that he’d come but you just thought back to all the times you’d slept with him in that last month before everything went to shit. When he was at his worst with drugs that most times, he couldn’t get it up, and when he could, it would be rough and fast.
Rafe crawled up your body, using his thumb to wipe his lower lip and then sucking it clean, causing your eyes to flutter. You pushed down his pants until they were around his knees and he kicked them all the way off himself but he didn’t pounce on you and started drilling you. He almost seemed…hesitant.
“I know you hate me but I don’t,” Rafe started, slowly as he began inserting himself into you, inch by inch, “I can’t fuck you like I used to right now. I can’t fuck you like I’m angry, I need to-,” he stopped himself with a moan as you clenched around him, “I just need you to fuck you like you love me okay?” He rasped, looking more vulnerable then you’ve ever seen him. You nodded, grabbing a hold of his hair as you wrapped your legs around him, you kissed him deeply before looking at him in his eyes, “I love you Rafe,” you breathe and that was all it took for him to lose his control.
After basically wrestling around in the sheets, you both came multiple times. Each time with whispers of promises of forever that you both knew was just something said in the heat of the moment. When you both felt spent, though not nearly having enough of each other, Rafe had gotten up to go to the bathroom and get a wet cloth to come and clean you up. You haven’t been this reckless since you two were sixteen and had a pregnancy scare, so you were thanking the heavens for your birth control right now.
Rafe had put the towel away in the bathroom again but didn’t bother to put on his clothes as he laid next to you in bed. You rested your head against his chest as his finger started trailing your spine.
“I saw Barry today,” you said suddenly.
“Yeah?” Rafe tensed, pulling you closer to him as if he could protect you, “What did he want?”
“Other than a trip down memory lane?” you offered, “you.”
Rafe didn’t say a word as he kissed the top of your head and you drifted off to sleep.
The sun was evil, you were sure of it. The blinding light had awakened you and all you tried to do was burrow deeper into the hard body next to you. Only except, the body wasn’t there. Blindly, you reached out beside you, almost in a panic when you couldn’t feel anything other than the cold sheets, indicating that it has been vacant for some time. You finally opened your eyes and sat up; your body deliciously sore but you couldn’t even enjoy that right now. You walked into the living room, naked as the day you born, only to see a small duffel bag by the door.
“Rafe?” You called out, only to have him appear from the kitchen with an orange juice in his hand. He took a look at you and his eyes lingered on your body, the marks that he left on you. The marks you left on his neck and chest, obvious as well, but you couldn’t concentrate on that, “I can’t believe you,” you spat out as you turned on your heel and made your way back into the bedroom.
You didn’t make it past the door frame before Rafe’s arm snaked around you and pressed your back to his front, his lips coming down to your ear, “stop,” he said, his tone was almost like an order but you knew it was a plea, “whatever it is that’s going on in that head of yours, stop it.”
You turned around in his arms, willing yourself not to cave when his face was inches from yours. Willing yourself not to cry when his bag is inches away from the door, “you’re leaving me,” you stated.
“I’m not leaving you,” Rafe corrected, “last night was just…amazing but it did remind me that being sober isn’t the only thing that I had to get done. I have loose ends, y/n. I have things that I need to make right. So, yes, I am leaving but do not think for a second that I’m leaving because of you. I’m alive because of you.”
“Nice speech,” you said bitterly, crossing your arms across your chest as you stepped out of his grasp, “you’re leaving right after we had sex. It’s still a douchebag move to make.”
“Y/n, I told you. I had a realization. Trust me, if I didn’t-,” he stopped himself, watching you as you pulled his shirt over your head, “if I didn’t have to go, I wouldn’t but I need to like, I don’t know. Clear my head or find myself or whatever the fuck it is. I need to go back to my dad and show my face. Fuck, I need to visit Sarah’s grave.”
“And you can’t do all of that with me? Here I am again, re-arraigning my whole life for you and Rafe Cameron can’t eve-,” he cut you off by lifting you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist. His kiss was hard and bruising.
“Shut the fuck up,” Rafe parroted the line he said seven months ago, only this time, he whispered it with a smile ghosting around his lips.
“I love you,” he said as he caressed your face with one hand, the other still holding you up, “I love you and you do not fully love me like before. I can see it in your eyes, princess. We laugh and we might’ve fucked yesterday but it does not change anything. You don’t trust me so I need to go and make things right, okay? You told me that I needed to love myself before you can be with me again, before you can love me again. So, that’s what I’m going to do. Okay?” he said as he set you down on your feet again.
You nodded, you understood. You weren’t dumb enough to think he’d stay here forever anyway, no matter how much you took care of him and he was right. There are still days where you can’t look at him and having sex last night might’ve made it clear where you both stood with each other but it doesn’t change the fact that sometimes you still hated him-you were just too drunk off sex to act on it.
“Yeah. Okay,” was all you could say. Though you gripped onto his hand like a child as he walked to the front door, picking his bag off the floor and effortlessly resting the strap on his shoulder. He turned to you and reached into his pocket, leaving a small gold chain necklace in the palm on your hand. A lame replacement for his own hand, you thought, but you willed yourself not to grab onto him again.
“Thank you. For literally everything. For changing your whole life for me. For stopping everything. No amount of thank you will ever be enough,” Rafe said sincerely and though it looks like he wants to, he doesn’t kiss you.
“Will I see you again?” You asked, your voice small. You gripped the necklace to your chest.
“I don’t know. But I fucking hope so, y/n,” Rafe said before turning around and walking out of your door.
Epilogue
“It’s been two years, dad,” you fidget on the bar stool in your parent’s house, you were finally back in the Outer Banks for the first time since Sarah’s funeral. A small simple gold chain hangs from your neck. You don’t remember the last time you took it off.
“A lot of things have changed, y/n. He might not be who he was anymore,” your dad warned, his eyes trained on yours and even though you know he meant that maybe Rafe isn’t like the boy you fell in love with when you were fifteen, all you wished for was that he wasn’t like the boy he was when he was nineteen.
You held up your glass of water, as if you’re making a toast, “then here’s to changes,” you smiled as your dad shook his head.
When Rafe had left your house, two years ago, he had come back to the Outer Banks like a boy on a mission. You weren’t exactly sure what had happened but rumor has it, he reached out to JJ, Kiara, and Pope to help put his father in prison. From there, they had recruited the help from Mrs. Lana Grubbs, who somehow had enough information to put Ward away for good. Of course, in the midst of getting his father in jail, he had to come clean about his involvement in the murder of Sheriff Peterkin—something that should’ve been a capital offense, but with the help of a very good lawyer (thanks dad) and being involved in the arrest of Ward Cameron, it was brought down to voluntary manslaughter. Rumor also had it that Ward Cameron could’ve gotten away, he could have stuck to his original story, seems like the police bought it anyway but once he heard that Rafe was basically selling himself out for this, he complied, knowing that his son would get less time. By all means, Ward was not a good father and even a worse excuse of a man but you’d like to believe that that was his way of telling Rafe that he loved him enough to do this, especially since he’s lost Sarah.
You sat outside of the prison, in your car. You saw the barb wires and the guards and almost got cold feet. You wrapped your hands tightly around the steering wheel until your knuckles turned white and took a deep breath. You didn’t know why you were so nervous but you felt like if you exit your car, you’d turn into a puddle of goo. After a couple of breathing exercises, you’ve gathered enough courage to walk up to the gate, giving the officer your ID, hoping that you’re still on Rafe’s visitations list. After a couple of minutes, just enough to make you sweat, they led you back to a room. Metal chairs had lined up against the glass, a phone at the side of each divider.
Reminding yourself to breathe, you sat down on the cold steel. You picked up the phone, eager to hear Rafe’s voice. As the rows of inmates started filling up each seat, sitting in front of their loved ones, your eyes searched for him. All the orange jumpsuits looking the same but then you felt it. That connection, that energy that you once shared with this man who was once the love of your life and now almost a stranger. He sat down across from you as you looked up at him, a grin painted on his face, and for the first time in a while, his smile reaches his eyes, “hey princess.”
tags: @millyelliot @snkkat
#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x y/n#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron#drew starkey#HAAAAAAA DID I SLEEP? NO#DID I CRY? YEH#FUCK THIS IS LONG#outer banks#my drabbles#outerbanks#outer banks fic#outerbanks fic#my writing
269 notes
·
View notes
Text
[Fanfic] MLQC Secret Santa 2020: The Light at the End of the Tunnel (Victor)
A little late but this is my belated present for @mrs-victor-li for the MLQC Secret Santa ʚ♡⃛ɞ(ू•ᴗ•ू❁) I really hope that you like it.
Also, a big thank you to @ginkgowritings for organising this and being patient with my delay. I really, really appreciated it (灬ºωº灬)♡
Title: The Light at the End of the Tunnel
Genre: Fluff/Romance
Words: 3786
Notes: Even though I tried to merge it in the Dates timeline, in the end the story diverts from the canon, though it’s set after the Rooftop Date (possible spoilers if you haven’t read it). Also, this was partly inspired by the wonderful analysis of Victor’s character “Waiting for your consent” by @sharinluna. I just had time to revise and edit it once so please, forgive any big mistakes that you see and point them to me so I can correct them ^^ Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy it.
.
THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL
The curtain closed for the last time that evening and the clapping died little by little in the great hall. The audience started gathering their things and the young woman looked at her companion, her joyful expression turning into a puzzled one, as he sat down again. Victor returned her gaze with a tiny smile playing on his lips and she did the same, beside him.
“Are we waiting for something?”
He crossed his legs, making himself comfortable.
“The corridors are crowded right now, we’ll take the same amount of time to get out whether we’re there or stay here for a while.”
She hummed, a brief musical sound emerging from her throat, just like the ones she had enjoyed not so long ago, her eyes turning back to the now quiet stage and her feet moving in a spontaneous dance to a melody only she knew. At that moment, Victor would have given anything to know what was on her mind. She seemed to have gone to a world of her own though she was just at an arm’s reach and that unsettled him. He studied her profile in the warm-lit box partly hidden from prying eyes by a dark red curtain that framed her delicate features. They were in an impasse in their relationship which made him unsure of where he stood. He had told her of his feelings for her some weeks before but she had not answered him yet. However, as they had continued seeing each other outside work, he had noticed very little changes in her attitude towards him, mixed signals that sometimes led him to think she felt the same, others that gave away a sense of an inner struggle. And he knew why. The fact that his corporation was the main and only investor on hers made her tiptoe around him, not getting closer but not wanting to offend him either.
He pressed his lips in a thin line. He was not blind to the fact of other men appreciating her as well, she was a fine young lady with plenty of good qualities and the owner of a company; but he was also a mature man who separated work and personal clearly, and if she were in love with someone else, he would retire like the gentleman he considered himself to be. And if she thought that he was so petty as to retire his investment because of that, then, maybe she was truly a silly girl.
He breathed a silent sigh, shooking his head and relaxing his features, as the sounds of conversation in the hall started to fade. Whatever the future held for both of them, he was not going to waste his time dwelling in what-ifs. He would enjoy every single occasion he had to be with her at work or out of it until she made her mind up, starting from the fact that that meaningful evening was his alone.
The hall was almost empty by then, and he looked at his watch.
“Shall we go?”
Deeply lost in her thoughts, she startled a little upon hearing his voice.
“Yes, sorry” she smiled lightly and stood up just after him, grabbing the white coat on the back of her chair.
He extended his hand and she doubted for a few seconds just before giving it to him and turning around. As he helped her, he admired her exposed neck and upper back, normally covered by her hair, this time styled up in a braided low bun where she had held a hairpin with some poinsettia flowers. He could not help a smile. She had gone all out for the festivity and wore a dark green knee-length satin dress with some applique work on the body and sleeves, and red ankle-strapped shoes. She could pass as a very elegant dressed elf. A lovely one, he had to admit.
He put on his black coat too, and together, they left the box seat. There were only a few people in the corridors who had probably had the same idea as Victor. Some of them greeted them, glancing curiously at her as they exchanged a few courtesy words with Victor.
Finally, they exited the theatre, a cold gust of wind greeting them. It had snowed heavily while they had been inside and there was a thin layer of white covering the dark coloured pavement and the road. She let out an excited laugh and bounced on her heels, enjoying the sound of the crushed snow under her feet. He shook his head slightly, an amused smile drawing across his mouth and then, offered her his arm, which he was surprised to see she took without hesitation. Probably, she was more worried about falling down and making a fool of herself than about her confused feelings towards him.
At a leisure pace, they walked down the steps of the building and headed to the parking lot where he had left his car, a few blocks from there. They made their way in silence at the beginning, watching some scattered snowflakes fall from the trees lining the road, profusely decorated. From time to time, Victor stole glances at her, enjoying the Christmas lights reflected in her pupils and the expression of awe in her features, as if she saw them for the first time.
‘Childish’ he thought, aware that precisely that earnestness she possessed was one of the things that attracted him to her deeply.
And then, a soft hum reached his ears. Distracted as she was with the ornamentation, she had unconsciously started to sing disconnected fragments of the melodies she had listened to at the theatre, happy ballet songs about sweets and fairies, and dancing snowflakes and flowers. A pleasant feeling filled him inside and he breathed satisfied, focusing on her lovely voice.
.
No matter how many years she had seen Loveland’s Christmas illumination, it managed to amaze her every single one of them. Beautiful figures, curtains of stars, snowflakes projected on buildings and Christmas trees in the squares, they were all different from the previous ones, bigger and more colourful.
Without barely realising, she had started to hum, the familiar songs that she had heard so many times before that night finding their way from her mind and heart to her throat. Her father had brought her to see The Nutcracker ballet for several years in that same building they had been to that night. When Victor had suggested going to the theatre on Christmas Eve, she had hesitated a bit. Even though they had had lunch and dinner together a few times after his confession, it had never sounded as much as a date as that one, especially given the romantic connotations the day held for most people. It had been when he had told her that he had tickets to attend to The Nutcracker ballet that all her doubts had vanished, replaced by nostalgia and excitement and, as she had watched the dancers on the stage and heard the beautiful, happy melodies of the dances, warm feelings and memories from her childhood had filled her.
The streets were crowded with people of all ages, walking busily from shop to shop in search of a last-minute present or watching the decorations. Here and there, they also passed couples hand in hand, and she wondered if they looked the same to them, holding arms and strolling so close together. She lowered her head a bit, hiding her chin in the fuzzy neck of her coat. Victor declaring his feelings for her so straightforwardly that night a few weeks ago on the roof of LFG had left her confused and unsure. With his fiercely demanding attitude and his mighty position, she had never suspected that he could see her as something more than a “dummy”, a silly girl that stood up to him and that most of the time was never up to his standards at work. In very few moments, he had let her see what was behind his poker face and his tyrannical ways, allowing her to discover a fiercely loyal and protective man with a warm heart who loved his family dearly. And during those glimpses, she had felt closer to him, that the walls between them cracked and collapsed bit by bit, though sometimes, they were rebuilt again in the blink of an eye. She had wondered then if all that was in her imagination and his affection, just a dream. However, his words were deeply engraved in her heart, and his voice, loud and clear like that day, resounded in her mind once again.
I wouldn’t go near another woman. All I want is you…
Heat flushed her cheeks and she side glanced at Victor to see if he had noticed, but he was looking ahead, at the entrance of the car park just a few metres in front of them, across a square, and she breathed, relieved.
He had not mentioned the matter again. Unlike the idea she had of suitors from what she had heard from her friends or watched in films, he had left her space to think, not trying to be a constant presence in her daily life or influence her feelings in any way, not meddling in her bonds with the men who were important to her. His attitude towards her had been the same, overbearing and not giving her a special treatment, and at the same time, considerate and lenient with her whims. True to his word, he was waiting for her to see the light, even at the risk of that never happening.
The atmosphere in the square was very similar to the one in the bustling streets, though the decorations and colours were much subtler, giving the place a cosy, intimate glow, so different from when they had crossed it in the late afternoon on their way to the restaurant where they had a reservation for an early dinner before heading to the theatre, with the hot shades of the sunset reflecting on the glass windows of the nearby buildings, tinting the world as if it was on fire.
“Everything is so beautiful…” the girl sighed looking at a group of reindeers made with small white lights, except for one which was red. “It’s like stepping into a winter wonderland.”
“Well, I agree that it has its charm and that people feel compelled to spend is a great incentive for business.”
She lifted a brow, regarding him with an incredulous stare.
“I can’t believe you said that… Where’s your Christmas spirit? Don’t you feel anything special seeing so many awesome and creative things made with just garlands and trees and lights, the families walking together and the children so thrilled?”
“Like the one I have beside me?” he replied jokingly, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
She pouted despite clearly seeing that he was trying to provoke her, and turned her head away. However, a second later she forgot about it as her eyes fell on the loveliest decorative ensemble she had seen that day.
“VIctor, look!” the young woman exclaimed as she left him with fast steps, walking to a space between two trees where a string of bulbs in the shape of a holly branch hung. On top of it, two robins, also made with fairy lights were perched, looking at each other, one with its wings slightly opened, the other giving it what looked like a sprout of leaves and small white balls.
A young couple a few meters away from her laughed and she turned in time to see them kiss fully on the mouth, making her flush upon realising what that little sprig in the bird’s beak was.
The two teenagers parted from each other and glanced at her, giggling again and walking away. She looked at Victor, panicked but unable to move from her spot, not knowing what to do. He was just a few meters away, watching her with an unreadable expression that stirred an unknown feeling inside her.
Then, suddenly, everything stilled and there was no more sound of chiming bells moved by the cold breeze, no more rumour of excited voices and nervous chuckles. As if he had decided something, he walked to her, slowly, like a majestic lion, but at the same time, she had the impression that he was giving her a chance to escape, that just a step back would stop him completely, as the suspended time. But for some unknown reason, she could not do it. Her heart was beating strongly in her chest, almost deafening her, her breath coming in short puffs of steam between her slightly parted lips. She lifted her gaze as he stopped in front of her. His mauve eyes, always crystal clear, were darkened by the night and the emotion that glimmered deep inside them. But there was more, a flicker of uncertainty that surprised her. She had never had the impression that he could be insecure about something, and yet, there was so much she did not know about him.
And also, there was her. She could see herself reflected in his pupils and she felt that she was the only one that mattered in his world. That thought alone made her feel an inexplicable spark of happiness and warmth spread inside her chest.
He lifted his hand and slipped it gently behind her head cupping the nape of her neck, and his thumb swept over her cheek, feeling the heat of her skin. She was looking at him with her big eyes, shiny under the Christmas lights and confused at his actions. How he longed to cross the distance, physical and emotional, that separated them and feel finally complete, silence the yearn that surged in his heart each time he saw her. But he had promised her to wait, to leave her space so she could see him as the man who desperately loved her instead of just the powerful CEO that held her future and that of those under her in his hands. So, he would have to settle for just a little display of affection, just for the two of them.
He leant forward and, as she lowered her lids not knowing what to expect, he brushed her forehead with his lips tenderly, lingering just enough to breathe in the floral fragrance of her hair and feel the softness of her skin.
He let go just after his kiss, taking a step back, and suddenly, the young woman found herself missing the heat radiating from him, protective and comforting.
“Shall we go?” he asked, bending his elbow for her to slip her hand around again, as the little bulbs clinked together in the breeze and the atmosphere filled with laughter and noise once again.
The girl nodded, not really trusting her voice, and took his arm, both of them walking straight to the parking lot entrance.
Once they paid and found the car, he opened the door for her, waiting until she had taken off her coat and sat down comfortably to close it. Then, he did the same, leaving his garment on the back seat and took his place on the driver’s seat.
She leant her head back on the headrest as he drove carefully along the snow-covered roads, one of her hands folded over the other, where she still could feel his warmth, as if it wanted to keep it as much as possible. Her mind had been wandering to him quite often during those weeks, when she was not working, trying to decipher what she felt for him, but until that moment, she had not got a clear answer. It was difficult for her to separate the authoritative figure he represented from the caring man whom she was so precious for, as she understood that seventeen years ago, she had made a strong impression on him while she had completely forgotten about his existence. However, he was becoming a crucial figure in her life now, someone who pushed her past her limits and encouraged her to do her best; someone who she could count on and spoiled her just enough to make her feel happy again on a bad day. She was not sure if it was the light he was expecting or not, but the only conclusion she had reached was that she wanted to know more about him, to uncover layer after layer of the pragmatic LFG CEO and see the man behind the finance emperor.
Her eyes fell on her hands again, and a light colour appeared on her cheeks. It had also been the first time they had stood so close together since his confession, making her aware of her masculine presence and his status as a possible lover, someone who would have access to her most private thoughts and feelings, who would expect more than a platonic bond. Her face turned scarlet red at the mere idea of Victor and her crossing the invisible line that until that night had been clearly drawn between them. She recalled the warmth of his hand on her skin and the slight shiver that had run down her spine at the brush of his lips, awakening on its course a million of unfamiliar but thrilling sensations and she bit her lower lip.
“You're normally not so quiet” he said in a soft voice, his eyes on the road, and she turned her head to him, brusquely brought back to reality, which made silence fall between them for a moment. “Did you not like the performance?”
“I loved it!” he side-glanced at her briefly just enough to see if she was feigning her sudden enthusiasm. “Sorry if it seemed the other way…” she doubted briefly and then, she continued, her nervousness at being caught in her recollections set aside. “You know, my father brought me there several times when I was a child and a teen. it was like a Christmas tradition to see The Nutcracker together around this time. Then, I spent the rest of the winter playing the different melodies on the piano. In spring, I put the scores away until the following December, when we started the circle again. Tonight’s ballet has brought me many memories of those times” she looked at her fingers, still laced together. “It’s been long since I played them, I’ve been too busy…”
He kept silent, but she saw that his brows were knitted together in a frown and she knew that he was doubting his choice.
“I’m glad to have reminisced about those moments. It made me appreciate the dancing and the music much more and keep my memories of my father alive” she turned towards him and that grabbed his attention. “Thank you for taking me there, Victor.”
His posture relaxed visibly and the thin line in his forehead disappeared.
“You’re welcome.”
A few minutes later, he parked his car in front of her building. Despite the slight tension still tangible in the cabin, the young woman felt comfortable and wished she could enjoy his company for a while longer. Then, a sudden idea came to her mind.
“Do you want to come up to my place and have some hot chocolate?” she asked on a whim, surprising him.
His slightly widened eyes watched her for a few seconds, his features not revealing any of his thoughts, making her squirm awkwardly and then, shook his head.
“No, thank you. I have a meeting early in the morning.”
She seemed surprised by his rejection but did not feel discouraged and tried again.
“It won’t take long, and it’ll warm you-”
“You don’t need to do this” he interrupted her words, trying to end her struggle and laying his cards on the table.
“What?”
“To feel pressured. I told you I’d be patient so take all the time you need to sort out your feelings about us. The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable or obliged with me, so I apologise if I overstepped-”
“I know” she replied with a light nod, interrupting him. “You can be imposing and a tyrant but also, respectful and considerate so I know that you’d never force or rush me to do anything I’m not completely sure about” she stared into his eyes with a serious expression which took him slightly aback. “I trust you.”
Those words reached the deepest part of his thundering heart. Never in his life had he felt so relieved and so right, reassured that his actions were correct and that she appreciated them. He had feared so many times that his confession had only made things between them even more difficult but she was too afraid of offending him. And at the same time, he had been worried about interpreting her acceptance of his advances as something more meaningful than it really was. Knowing that she was considering his feelings carefully and maybe taking baby steps towards a relationship between them filled his chest with even more love for her.
“Thank you for this evening, Victor” she smiled unfastening her seatbelt. “It’s been wonderful.”
He nodded, his features softening upon seeing her returning to her normal self.
“Goodnight.”
And then, she leant forward, putting her hand on his arm to bring him to her and kissed his cheek, a silent touch in the darkness of the enclosed space they were in which left him breathless for a second.
“Goodnight” she whispered, her eyes gazing at him briefly before turning and opening the door of the car.
He watched her run towards the entrance of her building, her coat still in her arms and her green skirt fluttering behind her, still puzzled by how fast everything had happened. She reached the gate and just before disappearing, she looked over her shoulder with a small smile playing on her lips and her cheeks flushed. Then, she was gone.
Victor brought his hand to his face and brushed his cheek with his fingertips. He still could feel the warm pressure of her soft lips on his skin and the caress of her breath sweeping his ear, the subtle fragrance of her perfume surrounding him, giving him a glimpse of what it would be like to have her in his arms.
He closed his eyes and swallowed, breathing deeply trying to calm himself down and focus on the road. He started the car and, using his turn signal, joined the traffic on his way home, a soft smile curving his lips as he started to hum under his breath one of The Nutcracker’s melodies.
It seemed that, even though there was still a long way to go, she was starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
THE END
41 notes
·
View notes
Note
[1/2] So... I'm the one who asked about non-con themes cause I've heard that when you are sick (flu, fever...), you get horny and that's normal cause it's your body fighting back. So I wanted to request for a yandere!Shoto when he goes to his best friend's house (preferably fem) to take care of her, who is having a fever. After he feeds her and give her medicines, he notices that she is rubbing her thighs and realizes that she is horny when she doesn't even acknowledged it yet (cause she's sick)
Sorry for the long wait, I struggled with the motivation for this, but I think it finally sat around long enough for me to be able to do it! Thank you for requesting and also an interesting fact, I did not know this could be a side-effect, it’s quite surprising!
»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««
“Shoto, stop! What are you doing-”
His fingers hooked under the fabric of your panties, and you didn’t have the strength to push him away, only helping him with the flailing of your legs. You could push at his shoulders, but it wasn’t even close to what a built body like Shoto’s needed to be deflected. It was no wonder he had an easy time pulling away your undergarments, along with your pajama pants that sat loosely on your hips, with little effort.
“Don’t worry, I said I would take care of you. I would do whatever is needed for you to feel better.”
“But-” you tried to protest, letting go of his shoulders to cover up your exposed sex, not wanting him to see such a thing. You were already panting from that little bit of effort to shove off the pouncing male, gaining only more concern in his eyes and wrinkles on his forehead. “But not like this!”
Discarding your clothing into a corner of the room, Shoto struggled lightly with capturing your ankles with his hands, fingers sliding upwards your legs the moment he caught them. With what felt much more intense than it probably was, he pulled apart your limbs, freeing some space for himself to conquer between them. “It’s only normal that you’d react like this, you’ve been sick for days.”
Truth be told, he missed you. Whenever your seat stayed empty at university, the lunch bell declared another day without eating with you, the walks home. It had been absolute hell for him to not be able to talk with you properly, to only write you message after message. For a while, you even refused him to enter the apartment when he brought the homework for the day. This was his first chance to help you get better again, and he’d use it as best as he could.
After all, you wanted this too, right? Getting healthy again, hang out with him. You even wanted him, you had made that clear with your flushed cheeks, the pressing together legs, rare, fleeting touches to your crotch. Even Shoto knew that with fever, sweating was a good cure, and you had given him all the signs that you wanted it too.
“I have to help you,” he announced, pinning your arms to the side of your head as he hovered over you. You were shaking, but he blamed it on you getting colder, the distress in form of tears in your eyes only because you were fighting with yourself, feeling bad that you made him go through such length. “I want to help you, I’d do anything-”
“No-” you whimpered, shaking your head. “But I don’t want that!”
For a split second, you saw the hesitation in his eyes, his mind trying to comprehend as to what could be right in this situation. Shoto was set that this was what you wanted, but could there be a chance you didn’t? Slowly, he leaned down, trying to test the waters with his lips, carefully pushing them against yours.
He... loved you. Wasn’t it normal to do these things when you loved each other? To help in health and illness? To enjoy each other’s company, to kiss, to fuck? And that tingle in his stomach, flowing deeper, right into his loins, when he kissed you, was just another signal that this was right. Your shaky hands and desperate tries to turn your head away, you must have been a little confused, probably from the fever, because this was what people did when they loved each other. Maybe you couldn’t return these affections yet, but Shoto was sure to make you understand that his was only for your own good.
Slowly, his kisses got greedier, the lips developing yours while you struggled still to throw him off balance. Of course, you didn’t want this - not while you were sick and not even in a relationship with him. You two had been best friends for years, but right now, you didn’t recognize the lovestruck fool towering over you. You didn’t taste anything when his tongue broke through your barricade, licking and exploring what he seemed to have deemed his, while you felt another cough build in your throat.
It came out as a miserable, weak huffing, but after initially catching your last bits of air from you, he finally backed off, letting you turn your head to cough it out. You could only imagine how sick he’d be getting from doing this to you. Still, Shoto was undeterred by the germs being transmitted. Exploring your earlobe, he didn’t even jump from the gasp you let out in between your coughing, feeling the heat that was developing all over your face up to the tip of your ears. It was hard to discern if this was from the cold, embarrassment or excitement, but Shoto really bloomed under it, thinking this was your reaction to him.
He wasn’t surprised when he found your cunt hot and bothered against one of his hands sinking down to it, fingers sliding along it gently. You jumped when you noticed the touch, but your body sunk right back into it, not much space to flee him. All around you was the bed, but the headboard was higher than you laid, wall on your right, his body blocking the exit to the left. Shoto, too, panted heavily by now, excited to feel your juices on his fingers, making it so easy to enter you.
Obviously, you got tighter when you felt him press in, your body so desperately wanting to keep him out. But it didn’t stop him from digging as deep as his knuckles allowed, fumble around inside of you with delight. “This will help,” he reminded you - reminded himself. It was all to your best, even if you still defended yourself against it, gripping his wrist with your hands, trying to tear him out of you.
You were relieved to see him getting the hint, pulling out only seconds later after enjoying your slick warmth some more, unbothered by his wet fingers. Maybe this nightmare was already finally over, you thought to yourself, taking a deep breath, which caused another cough to erupt. In the midst of it, you didn’t notice Shoto fumbling with his pant’s zippers, unbothered by smearing your juices all over himself as he got out his cock.
To say he was excited about this, was an understatement. Shoto truly believed this would help you, and you two could bond over it, unaware of how this would affect your relationship. Only when he settled his tip against your entrance, starting to push his hips forward, did you realize the extent of his craze, causing you to struggle more in your panic, flailing wildly.
“No-!” you were going to argue when he entered you completely, causing your breath to hold, and even Shoto wasn’t immune to the feeling, groaning loudly as he sunk into you. For a moment, it got quiet between you two as you held back your scream, both too flashed with the sensation of what just happened. The only thing that seemed to work properly was your cough reflex, lungs protesting under your stress and shortness of air.
He was the first to move, sloppily pulling and thrusting his hip. Slow at first, then another one, as if he needed to see if this worked the way he was doing it, before he found a better pace, your coughs adjusting to it, before he picked up the movements.
Caging you under himself, he didn’t so much take off his clothes or removed more of yours, but you still felt his weird mix of body temperature against you. Admittedly, it felt good to have his cold and warm brush against you, but to enjoy this rare pleasure, you wouldn’t have needed the long cock fucking your pussy.
“Please, just...” you WANTED him to stop, you really did, but this didn’t quite convey through your moans and gasps, only every interrupted by your coughs. You were growing warmer by the second, agitated through your hazy mind and body that screamed at you. This certainly was not what you wanted, but it was what it wanted, and you could scream and shout, but even that wouldn’t have stopped Shoto.
Being connected with the one he loved felt amazing.
Maybe your cold had spread on him, but he never felt that good before, his mind hazed by ecstasy more than an illness. Every push he did was like drinking a shot of ambrosia, taking a drug. He needed more, always more, his body could barely keep up with the pace he wanted to experience. And you were just as amazing, walls vibrating around his member, you were so incredibly warm and soft against him.
Shoto could have held you in his arms forever, that was just how good he felt. Even if you quivered, called his name, tried to make him stop, he was obsessed with feeling all of you, your inside, your outsides, it was amazing. When you came, it was like an explosion for himself. He felt it through you, and so it was on him to handle these wonderful sensations of you tightening, crying out in pleasure, even in the cough ripping through your lungs was some he felt.
But it wasn’t any of those sensations that could stop him. He just continued as you whined, “Please, slow down! At least- At least, give me a minute!” and Shoto gladly returned to his faster pace, feeling your body give away under the pressure he put onto you. This. This was good for you. He loved being able to do this for you, even without you appreciating just how strongly he was going at it.
No one else could ever make you feel like this. No sensation would ever come close to this for neither of you. This overstimulation was bliss! A kiss of the gods, if one would like to call it that. And you would enjoy it at some point, Shoto was sure of that! He was the only one that could heal and give you this pleasure, unknown to either of you before.
However, things must come to an end. In between the fog in his mind, he didn’t notice his closing moments, hips burying themselves deeper and deeper as before, his cock dragging along your walls unforgivingly. Until it was there, the final release, the feeling of his semen mixing in with your juices, stirring up your insides. In there, you must have looked like a canvas splattered with his cum, sperm everywhere. It didn’t even matter if this was the load to get you pregnant or not, knowing it was his that was buried inside was enough satisfaction to even his primal instincts.
You were marked. Marked by him.
You were his.
Shoto pulled out surprisingly rapidly, reaching for some tissues on the close by table as your coughs turned into gurgles. Wiping off the torrent of fluids dripping out of you, he watched it with fascination, wondering if any sight in this world was more beautiful of a connection than his semen dripping out of your pussy. “How are you feeling?” he asked, smiling, happy, but he could wait long for an answer.
All of this was just too much in combination with your fever and burning lungs, simply rendering you unable to stay awake any longer from the inevitable exhaustion. A few last affection that you felt was his wiping at your folds, a kiss pressed to your temple, and a hand brushing over the sweaty mess of hair on your head.
“Rest well, I will make sure you’ll be all cured when you wake up,” you heard him whisper into your ear, and your last thought was just how beautiful it would be to be healthy again.
#shoto#shoto torodoki#todoroki shoto#yandere!shoto#yandere!shoto todoroki#yandere!todoroki shoto#yandere shoto todoroki#yandere todoroki shoto#BnHA#Boku no Hero Academia#MHA#My Hero Academia#yandere bnha#yandere!bnha#yandere mha#yandere!mha#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere headcanons#yandere scenarios#yandere fanfiction#yandere writing#Yandere TW#lemon
548 notes
·
View notes
Text
the fragility of a petal
do you have any plan to write a sequel for camellia? i really love the plot and hope the story could be developed a little bit more where they become official then something angst happen (idk maybe something like a thirdwheel? lol) but they'll figure it out anyway
prince!Shinwon x princess!Reader | royal kingdom AU fluff + a little angst | 3k words
sequel to: camellia
synopsis: you can only go for so long without another tedious party in your schedule, but thankfully this time, you have your fiancé shinwon by your side to keep things interesting. however, your childhood friend seems to be wedging themselves into the equation, and now someone seems a little jealous...
a/n: my camellia anon,, for you !! thank you for being so kind and patient, i hope that this is what you imagined:) i was also looking back on camellia and was like wow,, my writing was quite something back then huh. i’m not so sure why i used stage names so i fixed it up here (except for hui though i think of it as a nickname),, so i’m sorry for the inconsistencies! maybe one day i’ll go back and edit camellia cause i’m a little unhappy about it idkidk BUT NOT TO TALK ABOUT THAT I’LL SHUT UP LOL ily and i hope you enjoy this<3
===== You found this situation oddly familiar as you were once again, standing in front of the mirror, checking out your outfit before entering the party.
But this time Shinwon was standing by your side.
“You look beautiful love, I promise.” He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder to pull you towards the doors down the hallway. “Stop worrying about it.”
You frowned a little at his words but allowed him to guide you away from the mirror. “Sorry, it’s just a habit I guess. I’m going to be seen by a whole bunch of people after all.” Being the daughter of the hosting family also didn’t do any good in helping you escape from the countless people who wanted to meet you.
“Well, if you keep your eyes on me, I’ll give you all the compliments you need! Just ignore the others.” He quipped loudly with a wink and held the door open for you to enter the ballroom. The music was already echoing within the large room, people milling about, chatter all around you.
“Gosh, why did I fall in love with someone so cheesy.” You laughed as you headed towards a less crowded section in a nearby corner. It was always nicer to not be surrounded by people who didn’t seem to have a sense of personal space. But then again, if you were caught up in dancing and laughing, you probably wouldn’t have cared as much about that either.
You and Shinwon didn’t get too far into avoiding the attention when you heard someone loudly call out your name, competing with the strings who were beginning to play their minuet and trio. Your head swivelled around, trying to find the source of the voice, but all you saw was a mass of colourful clothing.
“Y/n!” The voice called again, and this time, it sounded much familiar.
“Changgu…?” You muttered under your breath, eliciting a hum of interest from Shinwon.
And sure enough, there was Changgu, dressed in a tux — which was a mix of cream and white that suited him well — rushing towards you with a wide grin. Behind him was his father, walking leisurely to eventually join you guys as well (though he stopped for a moment to grab a glass of wine). Without even giving you a chance to register the situation, Changgu engulfed you in a big hug, almost tipping you over with all the energy.
“Y/n! I’ve missed you so much! How have you been doing?” He exclaimed after he pulled away to scan your face, eyeing every single detail.
“I’ve been doing great!” You smiled back. “How about yourself?”
“Oh, you know, same old, same old.” He rolled his eyes and returned to his bright smile. “But let’s not talk about me — it’s your party after all, and we don’t need that small talk. Anything special happen while we’ve been apart?” He then lowered his voice and added not so subtly, wiggling his eyebrows. “You didn’t run off and find a special someone, did you? You can’t do that to me.”
It took you a moment to find a response. You swore you sent him a message about your engagement months ago, but from the way he was acting right now, it didn’t seem like he had any knowledge of it at all. In the corner of your eye, you could see Shinwon cast a confused glance in your direction.
Before you could respond, his father passed by to join in on the conversation. “It’s been so long since you guys got to meet, if you plan on marrying each other then we’ve got to plan more dinners like this. Though of course, a little more intimate where we don’t invite all the kingdoms over.” He joked with a hearty laugh.
Oh. So they didn’t know about your engagement.
You chuckled along awkwardly as you watched him leave the conversation to go talk to another guest.
“He’s right, it’s been so long since we last met, we should do something together again! Like those ballroom classes, remember how we did that when we were little? We should take another class so that we can see each other often again. I love dancing with you.” Changgu rambled on excitedly and took your hands into his. His touchy antics typically weren’t unusual at all to you, having been best friends for as long as you could remember, you weren’t bothered by his love for physical contact. But today, your hands felt like they were on fire as he held them tightly, and it was probably because you could feel a certain someone staring at the two of you.
Shinwon spoke before you could. “Actually,” He put a tight grip on your shoulder and pulled you closer to his side, making Changgu step away from you a little. “Y/n already has a fiancé and the wedding will be happening this summer.” He declared boldly.
You saw the first sign of jealousy when his other hand clenched into a fist. Now, Shinwon would never get physical, nor would he ever hurt a fly, but you could tell that he was doing so to relieve his anger. He had to do something to calm himself down.
“Ah…” Changgu stared at the two of you, mouth slightly parted as he slowly connected the dots. Then, that confusion morphed into a smile and he playfully nudged you. “You didn’t tell me you had something going on.”
“Did… did you not receive the letter we sent out?” You managed to stammer out.
“Hm? There was a letter?”
“Yes we sent one out a long time ago, it may have gotten lost I guess.” You weakly concluded. The Yeo family didn’t interact much with the other kingdoms — they hadn’t even gone to Shinwon’s party, and instead spent most of their time in the peaceful solace of the forests.
“Ah, oh well, it would’ve come to me as a surprise either way. So,” He shrugged it off and turned to look at Changgu. “You’re the man? What’s your name?” He held out his hand to shake.
“... Ko Shinwon.” He replied flatly, and firmly took his hand and squeezed it.
“My name is Yeo Changgu!” He responded back, seemingly unfazed by his cold attitude. “Me and y/n have been friends ever since we were little.”
It was a harmless comment, maybe a little unnecessary, and from the look on Changgu’s face, you weren’t sure why he found the need to say it, but his eyes still twinkled with friendliness. Shinwon, on the other hand, didn’t seem to take his statement the same way you did, and he tightened his grip on your shoulder.
-----
Shinwon seemed to lighten up a little bit when you busied yourself with talking to other guests and he kept a loose hand in yours, gently playing with it. Though wasn’t long before Changgu approached you again, now with a rose in his pocket and you silently wondered who he got it from.
“Would you care for a dance, my princess?” He joked but held his hand out in all seriousness for you to take. You hesitated, trying to peer into his mind before looking to your right to check on Shinwon, only to realize that your fiancé had already struck up a conversation with one of his friends. No matter how much you stared, he didn’t look your way.
You huffed at his pettiness and gratefully took your friend’s hand. “Why I’m definitely up for a dance.”
The two of you swayed to the beat and you tried to get your mind off of Shinwon. You could tell he was starting to sulk a little bit and couldn’t stop the feeling of concern bubbling within you. But at the same time, his stubborn attitude unwillingly irked you a little and you wanted to push aside his unnecessary jealousy. No matter how much you tried though, the setting still reminded you of when you first danced with Shinwon. How he was the only one to understand you that day, how stunning he looked even with the mask on, how nice it felt to kiss him for the first time—
“Ah—!”
Pulled out of your thoughts, you brought your focus back to Changgu and followed his shocked gaze to see your foot stepping fully onto his. That must’ve been a little painful.
“I’m so sorry, I got distracted.” You quickly apologized and fumbled a little as you tried to get back into the rhythm of the dance.
Your best friend lightly chuckled, though there was a slight hint of discomfort in his smile. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” He reminisced. “Always getting distracted during dances and stepping on people’s toes.”
He was right, ever since the beginning of your lessons, you found it hard to not get lost in your thoughts and had always ended up misplacing your steps or bumping into those beside you. As your go-to dance partner during those times, Changgu had always experienced that clumsiness first-hand, and recently, Shinwon was also starting to realize that for himself. Clearly, you only harboured so much love for dancing.
The music picked up its tempo, signalling the time to switch partners and Changgu bid you off with a happy wave. Spinning around, you almost bumped into someone else and looked up to see the one and only Shinwon who seemed just as shocked as you were.
You quirked an eyebrow. “Well, not going to invite your own fiancée for a dance?” You tried to create some sort of amendment with him through your joking tone but his eyes averted from your gaze as he licked his lips.
That was the second clue to his jealousy. He always played with his lips and looked away when he was distracted and thinking about something else. After an awkward beat, he brought his hands into position and pulled you onto the floor for a dance without a word.
In the midst of the music, your little dance was silent and disappointing to say the least. Usually, they were filled with stories and laughter — that aspect came naturally to the both of you. Though you still shared this quiet sense of heartfelt affirmations, there were still so many things missing. Like his smile.
You wanted to draw out a smile from him so badly to ease your heart, but none of your efforts seemed to work and his posture remained rigid, strictly following the music like he was worried about others criticizing his skills. The dance continued like that until you heard your father calling the two of you to take your places at the dining table.
You gave Shinwon a quick peck on the lips before making your way to your seat where many other notable guests were already gathering. When you sat down, you spotted Jinho in the spot in front of you and gave him a small nod of acknowledgement. As the son of the neighbouring kingdom, he was a familiar face at your palace. He leaned onto the table and smiled sweetly. “Y/n, you’re looking beautiful as usual.”
As you returned the compliment with a polite reply, you flinched a little when Shinwon set down the glass he was holding a little too forcefully and he muttered a small “sorry.” When he chose to talk to the guest beside him instead of returning your stare, you turned back to Jinho who sent you a sympathetic smile.
The night wasn’t supposed to turn out like this.
Earlier, a small part of you admittedly had the intent of playing his own game by ignoring his hints of jealousy, but now, as you watched him sulk to himself, your heart melted and you sucked up your own pride. Your dignity was the last of your worries now — your new goal was to cheer up and remind him that yes, you still loved him and that there’s no reason for him to get jealous over a childhood friend. Even if that friend was a little too overbearing.
You spent a good chunk of that dinner glancing around the table, from one end to the other, trying to see if anyone else noticed Shinwon’s sour demeanour, or if there were any opportunities to cheer him up. However, everyone was focusing on either the food in front of them or the other guests they were conversing with, and there still wasn’t an outing for you to be able to take Shinwon outside. When you looked to your right, your eyes locked with Hui’s, just like they did the last time you saw him, and he stared back at you, slowly chewing the steak in his mouth. You couldn’t tell what he was trying to convey in his expression (and you silently scowled at his ambiguousness), but one thing was sure — there was no ounce of friendliness in his eyes, and you wondered why he wouldn’t leave you alone. You just needed an excuse to be alone...
“Gifts!”
All the attention was diverted to you when you suddenly stood up and blurted out the random word. Brushing off the crumbs that had fallen on your outfit, you let out a small sigh in relief when you noticed that they didn’t leave a stain and cleared your throat, trying to compose yourself.
“I mean,” You awkwardly looked at your father. “I’ve prepared some gifts for the guest and need some time to prepare them before the dancing starts again, so may I be excused to go do that right now? I’m done eating.”
You really weren’t done eating, but that was fine. At least you weren’t lying when you said you had gifts prepared.
“I’m going to need Shinwon to help me though.”
You felt the attention shift towards him now and took a peek at Changgu, who busied himself with his drink, paying no attention to the situation. Shinwon also didn’t look at you. He almost did, but caught himself before his eyes could wander to you and opted to cast a lost expression in the other direction.
Your stomach felt queasy when you sensed his hesitation. You caught onto the idea that he was still holding onto his pride and wanted to get back at you by staying at the table out of spite, but he simply let out a small sigh and then stood straight up, giving you a moody look.
Smiling at his cuteness, you acted like everything was fine for the sake of the guests, and grabbed his hand to lead him to your bedroom.
When you arrived, you gestured at the bows and ribbons that needed to be attached to the gifts and gave him some instructions: tie the gifts up, make sure they’re secured, double check that they looked presentable — pretty straightforward. You then headed towards your closet and pulled out the first boxes full of gifts to slide them over to where Shinwon was standing, ribbons ready in hand. You caught Changgu’s name on one of the gift tags after Shinwon received the box from you and grimaced at the unlucky coincidence.
“Thanks for leaving your food to help me,” You started, trying to prevent him from reading the names in the box. “I promise I’ll get the chefs to make your favourite dessert later.”
“Sure thing, y/n.” He brushed off your thanks with a nod and you stopped pulling the gifts out of the boxes to look at him.
That was the last indicator — he said your name.
Shinwon hardly said your name when he was talking to you directly, it was always love or princess, or some other cheesy term of endearment. But just now, he had looked at you straight in the eyes and said “y/n” like it was a challenge.
Placing the box in your hands onto a nearby table, you faced him fully and rested your hands on your hips with a sigh. “Alright, what’s going on Shinwon?”
You played the game back by saying his name, but approached the topic gently.
“Nothing’s going on, I don’t know what you’re getting at.” He muttered with a small pout, trying to avoid the conversation by going back to sorting the gifts, but you pulled him away to the other side of the room and leaned on one of the dressers.
“Nothing’s going on? So the past how-many-hours have been the usual Shinwon I know and love? Or is there a good explanation for it?”
When he didn’t answer, you cut to the chase. “Are you jealous?”
He was pouting even more now, finally giving up on any attempt to act indifferent to your confrontation, and you almost couldn’t take him seriously anymore. “Is it because of Changgu?” You pressed.
That got him to answer.
“When you said you were good friends before, I didn’t think you were that close.” He hesitated and then continued. “He was being too touchy, you’re my fiancée and I don’t think he got that memo. It’s either that, or he’s taking advantage of you, and it kind of hurts to just watch you know?”
You gently took one of his hands and traced your thumb along the back of it. “I know what you’re getting at, we’ve always been pretty close, and he’s always been a naturally affectionate person… but he might’ve stepped over some boundaries earlier. I just want you to know that those advancements don’t mean anything to me though, alright?”
Standing straight up, you went in to place a soft kiss on his lips, lingering for a while as the tips of your nose brushed against each other lovingly.
“I love you the most, and I have no plans on leaving you.” You added.
Shinwon’s smile was a little fuller this time, and he whispered back an “I love you too” before pulling you into a warm hug, hair tickling your face as he leaned into you.
“Now let’s get these gifts all packed up, shall we? Everyone’s waiting for us.” You offered, patting his back a couple times to get him out of the sappy mood.
He didn’t miss a beat. “Will I get a dance with you later in return?”
“No, you’ll never get to dance with me ever again.” You replied sarcastically while pulling away and laughed when he went back to pouting again.
“I’m kidding darling, you can have all the dances in the world with me.”
#pentagon#pentagon x reader#pentagon shinwon#shinwon#ko shinwon#shinwon x reader#pentagon fluff#pentagon angst#shinwon fluff#shinwon angst#pentagon imagines#shinwon imagines#nose-bandaid
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
Think that I like her - Phase Three
Mason
It has been three weeks since Molly declined his proposal and I haven’t seen her since. I can’t even remember what phase two of my marvellous plan had even been because the proposal had completely blown everything. I had been so sure that she was going to say yes that my confidence had really been knocked.
‘Bud!’
I didn’t look up, not sure whether Ben was talking to me or one of the others.
‘Hello, Mason...you in there?’ Ben asked.
I looked up at him then, and by now the guys must have known that I wasn't ok, I was very visibly sulking.
‘Your mate has been blowing up your phone’ Ben pointed out the flashing screen that could be seen through the pocket of my jeans.
‘Yeah it’s Kara, her flatmate is that girl I was telling you about’ I explained.
‘Invite them both?’ he suggested. ‘Doesn’t then seem like you’re singling her out because she’s now single. Tammy’s girl is coming over and bringing a few of her mates so they won’t be the only girls or anything.’
I knew what Ben was angling for. He was single too and he was looking to hook up with someone. He had been complaining of blue balls all week in training.
‘Eh go on then, I’ll text her though’ I shrugged as I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I did feel guilty that Kara had been calling but I just didn’t really feel like speaking to her. She had tried to help me since Molly’s break up but I just felt awkward even thinking about talking to her when her break up was so fresh. I wasn’t looking to be anyone’s rebound.
I had just finished typing my text to Kara when a sheepish looking Christian came over and sat next to me, clutching a nonalcoholic budweiser in his hand.
‘I just heard who you were inviting. Ben is excited that your friend might be fit. What does that mean?’ Christian asked.
That actually made me smile. I liked it when Christian didn’t get english terms or slang, it was kind of funny. ‘It means that he wants to know if she is attractive’ I explained.
Christian’s face fell. ‘I don’t want him to think that!’ he said in a hushed tone, leaning closer to me while he spoke. ‘I fancy her.’
‘I know!’ I laughed. ‘Wait where did you learn that term? You don’t say that in the US do you?’
Christian shook his head, laughing.
‘Oh man, I hope she isn’t Ben’s type.’ I mumbled, knowing full well that girl was Bem’s type, especially as he was feeling lonely after the lockdown.
‘Do you think he would be much of a threat?’
I looked at Christian and then over at Ben, considering which one I thought might be more of Kara’s type. ‘She has dated a few tall guys and he’s taller than you so he has that but… she is a big sucker for dimples so you win on that one and she liked your accent. The one thing he does have you on though is that he is really confident and girls really like that.’
‘Ok well what does that mean for me?’ Christian was looking really nervous now and I knew I had knocked his confidence a bit which wouldn’t be good if he was about to try to talk to Kara.
‘It just means that if he likes her he is really going to go for it and do more than just kind of stare awkwardly at her, and he will actually flirt really obviously’ I explained.
Christian stood and I laughed, looking up at him. ‘Where you going?’ I asked.
‘To swap this for a real beer. I need all the confidence I can get because tonight I’m telling her that I fancy her’.
As quickly as he came over he was gone again and I sighed. My phone had pinged a few times while I had been talking to Christian but I had been ignoring it up until now trying to counsel him on how to pull a girl as if I were some kind of expert myself.
Kara
Molly took ages getting ready. She had carefully styled her hair into big bouncy curls and applied a heavy amount of make up.
‘Are you sure you want to go out? We don’t have to go you know. Mase will understand’ I assured her.
She shook her head, spraying a large cloud of hairspray and declaring she was ready. ‘I want to see Mase, I missed his cute face. He’s going to cheer me up and I want a drink!’
I rolled my eyes.
~
We arrived at Mason’s friends flat in just under 20 minutes, with it being only four tube stops away. Molly had smuggled a bottle of pre-mixed lemonade and pink gin with her in her bag and had been chugging it both while we waited for the train and while we were on it and was slightly tottering on her high heels, linked arm in arm with me which was just about holding her up.
We knocked and a good looking guy with dark brown hair opened the door. I had been guilty of not watching many Chelsea matches since the restart because my job had been so busy so I didn’t recognise him.
‘I’m Ben’ he said with a smile, stepping aside and allowing us entry to the flat.
‘I’m Molly and this is Kara’ Molly said, flashing a smile and holding out a shaky hand. Ben missed her hand and pulled her into a hug.
‘Mason is sulking over there’ Ben laughed, pointed Mase out to us.
‘Thanks’ I said, catching Ben’s eye. He gave me a little look up and down and smiled at me and with that I steered Molly over to where Mason was sitting.
‘Mase!’ she cried, plonking herself down onto Mason’s lap, making him jump a little as she wrapped her arms around his neck and starting hugging him.
Mason looked over his shoulder at me with wide eyes and I shrugged and then mimed a bottle being drunk. He nodded to show that he had understood me and I sat opposite them, smiling at the pair of them as Molly cuddled into Mason and started to tell him about the proposal and how it had been the most mortifying moment of her life.
I felt slightly uncomfortable being in such close proximity to them while they were acting rather coupley and shifted uncomfortably in my seat, looking around the room to see if there was anyone that I knew. That’s when I spotted Mason’s team mate Christian who I had met before. He was probably the only member of the team, besides Ben now, that I actually had met.
He was stood across the room from me chatting to two other guys who i assumed played for the team too. One had dark curly hair and the other was tall, blonde and shy looking. I caught Chritian’s eye and gave him a little wave. He grinned and waved back at me before gesturing for me to go over.
Gladly I got up and left Molly and Mason to talk, walking over to where Christian and the other guys were.
‘Hey nice to see you again’ Christian greeted me, putting his arm around my waist and squeezing me against his side briefly. I blushed like mad, enjoying the feeling of his arm around me. No one had been intimate with me in any way for a long time and his arm around me had felt really comforting and nice but he quickly withdrew it to introduce me to the other two.
‘Kara this is Kai.’ The tall dark haired one. ‘...and this is Timo our new striker’ the blonde one smiled and gave me an awkward little wave as if he were nervous and muttered a quiet ‘Hi’.
‘Are you both new?’ I asked, looking back to the curly haired one and trying to work out if I had seen him before.
‘Yes’ he responded in very good but thickly accented English.
‘They used to play in Germany’ explained Christian.
‘Oh like you? I try to follow Dortmund but even following one team is hard so I kind of haven’t kept up with them in a long time.’ I said, smiling at both of them.
They both laughed and started shaking their heads. ‘No...No Dortmund!’ the blonde one - er Timo said.
‘Oh oops, you guys played for other teams right? Shit, sorry, put my foot in it’ I laughed and then spoke directly to Christian ‘I don’t know what phase of Mason’s plan we are on but it’s working tonight’.
Christian looked over at Mason and Molly who were still talking on the sofa, their heads very close together. ‘It must be that couch. Ben said that’s where he hooks up a lot’.
I laughed, trying to avert my eyes from Christian who I would very much like to snog, eer.. hook up with and bit my lip.
As if I had given them some sort of signal both of the germans shuffled off to speak to other people and left me and Christian alone.
‘So how are you enjoying London? Or is that a silly question as you’ve technically been here over a year now’ I asked.
‘That is true but I’ve hardly seen any of it. We were locked down and I didn’t have anyone to show me around’ he grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. I ran my eyes from his elbow upward, admiring his sleeve of tattoos distractedly.
‘Remind me to have a word with Mason about that then, he should have shown you around when you got here.’
He looked between me and Mason as if he were trying to decide whether to do something or not before he spoke. ‘I think you would make a much prettier tour guide’.
~
Christian
I had felt stupidly confident after a couple of beers, asking her to show me around London. I couldn’t believe that she had agreed and insisted that we leave Ben’s immediately because so much of London was better at night. I didn’t object of course, just downed the rest of my drink for courage and followed her out of the flat onto the street.
I was slightly regretting it now that I was fifty feet up in the air on the London eye, or whatever it was called now. I wasn’t the biggest fan of heights, but we had one of the huge bubbles all to ourselves and the view really was incredible.
Kara stood with her back to me, leaning against the rail which gave me a really great view of the curve of her ass, causing me a great amount of distraction from the landmarks that she was pointing out to me.
‘Over there is the new Wembley stadium. I don’t really know what was wrong with the old one… ooh and you might be able to see the Olympic stadium from here too. That one is West Ham’s now’. She was pointing now, the tip of her finger grazing the glass as she pointed out the stadiums.
‘This was a great idea, thank you.’ I said.
She turned slightly then and looked at me. ‘Can I confess something?’
I nodded and she blushed, a hint of pink gracing her cheeks.
‘I don’t really like heights but I thought I would come up here for you so that you could see everything. I’m glad we did this rather than the cable car though, that looks way more unsafe’.she blushed again as she spoke, her words were coming out faster and faster and she was starting to babble, definitely at least half as nervous as I was.
That’s when I decided that I was going to try to kiss her. Even though if it went wrong or if she didn’t want to we were pretty far off the ground and there was no getting away from each other.
Even so I took a step closer to her and put my arms around her waist, mumbling softly ‘come here’ as I pulled her against me.
She smiled at me shyly as she put her arms around my neck and I could tell that she quite liked how assertive I was being.
‘I think you’re more beautiful than any of the sights out there’. I said, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before I put one of her hands on the back of her head and leaned in. I paused for a moment, with our lips about half an inch apart hoping desperately that she wouldn’t pull away and when she didn’t I pressed my lips against hers. At first it was just a light brush and I felt giant butterflies erupt in my stomach. I was so nervous and the alcohol really hadn’t helped with that. I started worrying about how bad my breath might be and how that might put her off, but she started to move her lips against mine and pushed a hand up into my hair, grasping a handful of what was left of it after I had cut it short.
I could feel how fast my heart was beating as I held her slightly tighter and pressed her back against the railing, slipping my tongue into her mouth where it met hers.
I had never really kissed anyone with as much passion as this, let alone a first kiss and when I pulled away I looked away for a moment before I could bring myself to look at her, for some reason expecting some sort of rejection.
‘Wow’ was all she said but it had me blushing.
‘Yep’ was all I managed in response and I felt like such a doofus. ‘Sorry’.
‘Never apologise for that. I’ve never been kissed like that before.’
#christian pulisic fanfic#christian pulisic#mason mount#football fanfiction#think that I like her#ben chilwell
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
Another Decade
Summary: Arthur discovers Y/N's fortieth is just around the corner. He hopes to get the occasion right.
Warnings: Swearing
Words: 5,044
A/N: This request comes from @hhandley80, who is an absolute sweetheart! Funnily enough, I got the request for this story and Another Year within a couple days of each other. Thank you so much for it! It was great to write.
If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!
This morning's therapy appointment had boosted Arthur's spirit. Left him refreshed instead of worn. Dr. Ludlow had given him a break from discussing his negative thoughts and various neuroses. Rather, she'd asked him what he wanted to talk about. What was foremost on his mind. And he'd spent close to the entire hour diving into what it was like to live with Y/N.
Having a person who cared about him was fulfilling. Beautiful. Challenging. Struggles inevitably happened but she attempted to help him through them. (A stark difference from when he’d been on his own.) The faith she'd placed in him by inviting him into her home was exciting.
Fears he'd never be worthy of that trust or such a good, intelligent woman did tend to eat at him. Especially when he couldn’t sleep or suspected he was slipping. But he was trying. Doing his best to learn every day, every hour, every minute. To alter his view of himself to include intimate partner alongside mentally ill loner. “I- I thought it would fix me,” he’d said. “It’s hard. But I don’t feel so bad all the time anymore.”
The doctor had complimented his resolve. Said he was dealing with all the changes as well as could be expected. If he followed his treatment plan, she anticipated he'd continue to do so. Appreciating the recognition, Arthur had wondered how to keep her praises close.
And now here he was. Experiencing the ordinariness of sitting in a diner with his girlfriend. Talking about their respective mornings. Sharing a meal. The crinkle fry he grabbed from the blue-plate special in the center of the table was soggy. The corner of his mouth quirked up as he dunked it in ketchup, a possible punchline coming to mind. If he could just figure out the right-
An inviting caress to the back of his hand brought him back to the present. He hadn't meant to tune out Y/N. With an apologetic grin, he pressed back into the booth's plastic cushions and took another drag off his cigarette.
“I was saying I need to head back to work,” she told him. A smile slowly spread across her face, until it nearly blinded him. “And that I can’t believe we’ve been shacked up for almost two months. I know it’s been an adjustment-“
“A good one,” he interrupted gently, interlocking their fingers.
"I’m proud of you.” The pink on her cheeks was faint. “I wouldn’t have taken the leap with anyone else. I can’t seem to get enough of your company, Mr. Fleck.” With that, she signaled for the waitress, retrieved her wallet from her purse, and got out some cash. Rising, she turned to Arthur. “Get the change for me,” she said, heading towards the back.
Her suede billfold was open on the table, her Gotham City ID card in view. He tentatively picked it up to examine the photo. Her hair was uncharacteristically flat, shorter than it was now. The flash had turned her lovely eyes red, and her lips were agape, as though she was in the middle of a sentence. A giggle escaped him. Frumpy. She was frumpy.
Reading her details, his brow quirked at her full name: “Y/N M/N L/N.” There was a nice rhythm to it, one that would also work with “Fleck,” if they got as far as he daydreamed. Then he saw her date of birth and stilled.
Her fortieth was in less than two weeks: 4/6/1942. April sixth. Shit.
He’d learned so many facts about her: the names of her nephews and niece; which college she’d attended; her favorite bands. She’d told him her birthday was in the spring. How the hell had he neglected to ask her the specific date? Awash with embarrassment, a hiccup left him and he covered his mouth.
The waitress returned with a dubious look, a receipt, and coins. As he counted out the tip, he calculated what he had in his own wallet and checking account. He’d scrimped and saved to cover the electric and water bills (though he knew he’d have to pay them in secret to avoid Y/N’s finding a way to repay him). Could he afford a decent gift, too?
Arm in arm, they walked back to Y/N’s workplace. She chatted about that afternoon’s court process, and he puffed away as if he was going to Hoyt’s office for an impromptu scolding. When they reached the steps in front of her building, she tugged at him until he stepped closer. “You’re so stiff.”
Putting on a half-grin, he leaned into her. “Don’t worry about me.” He stole a chaste kiss, one she tried to turn into more before he backed off. “I’ll see you later.”
When he got home, he didn’t bother to change into his thermal shirt and pajama bottoms. Relaxing wasn’t an option. Stretching and pacing the kitchen, he breathed in and out, in and out. He needed to focus instead of letting himself be thrown off. Like a good partner would.
Plans. He had to make plans. And not the vagaries floating around in his head of what boyfriends were supposed to do. Special ones. Personal ones. Ones that demonstrated the depths of his love for her. This was important. The start of a new decade. And her first birthday with him.
Unable to conjure other options, he grabbed the phone from the wall and dialed Y/N’s office. His leg bounced harder with every ring. He hadn’t yet spoken with Patricia, Y/N’s friend and co-worker. But he’d heard she was nice. Any suggestions she could offer were welcome.
Thank goodness she answered before he lost his nerve. “Shaw and Associates. Patricia speaking.”
“Hi,” he pushed out, fiddling with the phone cord. “Um, this is Arthur. Arthur Fleck. Y/N’s boyfriend?”
A smile lingered in her professional lilt. “It’s nice to talk to you, finally. But she isn’t here. I can take a message.”
“No, I know.” If he hesitated too long, he'd reveal his awkwardness. So he went for it. “Do you know what Y/N’s favorite cake is?” That question commenced a conversation that gradually became easier. Each sentence soothed. Consoled the irritation he’d aimed at himself.
Y/N liked hummingbird cake, a mix of pineapple, banana, and cinnamon. It sounded intricate and expensive. There was a bakery that sold it by the slice, according to Patricia. Y/N hadn’t disclosed what gifts she would fancy, but had said she didn’t need any knick-knacks, mugs, or other such trifles. As for activities, she was uncomplicated. She liked going to the movies and restaurants. Conversations and walks. The mundanity of domestic life, especially since becoming involved with him.
That lovely sentiment caused his eyelids to shut, an ember to glow in his heart. But it only confirmed what he already knew. “I want to make her happy,” he breathed. “I’m new at this.”
“We all were once,” she said, brushing his concerns off. “Arthur, she’ll love anything you do. Because you’re the one doing it.”
The kindness she was extending to him felt surreal. Not yet used to it, he tried to believe it wasn't a trick. He thanked her quietly, for her ideas and for listening to him. But as he was about to hang up, she gave him one last piece of advice. “Wear your button-up with the blue flowers. And your yellow vest.”
Blinking, he frowned. “But those are for work.”
Patricia laughed softly. “Yeah, well. She likes them. What was it she said? ‘They accentuate his sexy waist?’”
A burn rushed across his face and he rubbed his forehead. “...Oh.”
Well, that was a request he could handle.
~~~~~
It seemed as though newspaper adverts, television commercials, and even the damned billboards plastered around Gotham had an ax to grind. They all declared the same thing. Women needed to “mold their faces back to youth!” “Guard against aging skin!” Learn they could “look young again!” To be someone other than themselves.
Rolling her eyes, Y/N dropped the magazine she’d been reading in the trash can next to her desk. She’d be crossing into the “Fatal Forties” in a week. While she did use lotion before bed to prevent the formation of wrinkles, and the prospect of gray hair wasn’t one she relished, turning the big 4-0 bothered her less than she’d anticipated. Her looks were minor concerns compared to what she’d gained over the years.
The hardships she’d endured had mostly strengthened her. Allowed her, mercifully, to grow into a person who was comfortable with herself. It was said women were supposed to be set in their ways by now. And in many respects, that was true. She enjoyed her routines. She liked her career. She loved participating in life amidst millions of other people.
But meeting Arthur had changed her path. Started her on an adventure she treasured. A journey into actual partnership, rather than her earlier attempts to please and meet other’s expectations. Attempts she had failed at. Miserably.
He hadn’t cared she was five years his senior. Hadn’t hinted that he’d considered her a “spinster.” Never joked that she was an “old maid.” If she stood in front of the cosmetic counter at the pharmacy while he got his prescriptions, he’d slink up behind her and say, “You’re already pretty.” She’d never expected him to make her feel more desirable now than she’d ever felt in her twenties, stretch marks, moderately saggy breasts, and all.
During the past few days, she’d tried to piece together what he could have planned for her birthday. He hadn’t left any clues, though one night he had hurriedly tucked something under a couch cushion. He’d been a bit out of sorts, though. Biting his nails more than usual. Seeking greater reassurance.
She’d had plenty of good birthdays. There’d been parties and games. Presents. Hugs and well wishes. When she’d taken care of her father it had mostly been forgotten, apart from the cards she’d received from her ex-husband and sister. The passage of time had been marked by worsening dementia. And she had been fine with not caring.
In contrast, Arthur had stated he’d never known what it was like to matter to someone. Not until her. He’d told her he’d given Penny a blouse for her birthday once or twice. That had been years ago, however, before his mother’s reactions to him had gradually reduced to requests to send letters. Before her health had declined when he was a child and he’d had to take over every basic task. Before he’d become too exhausted to try.
Would it be fair to expect him to take much notice?
At the end of a long workday, she’d be satisfied with a quiet evening at home. Cooking dinner together. Drinking wine until she felt warm and fuzzy. Kisses exchanged here and there. Maybe some fooling around before she nodded off on the sofa with her feet in his lap. Such basic joys would be plenty.
~~~~~
The page in Arthur’s journal taken up by Y/N’s special day wasn’t atypical. He’d been writing about her since the grocery store. (“I wonder what her name tastes like. Less bitter than mine, I bet.”) Since they’d shared donuts. (“I shud have given Sara my number.”) Since she’d stared at him, then smiled at him, and he’d felt the whole world change. (“I hope Y/N likes the joke I rote for her. I practised it 100 times! Maybe she’ll let me touch her again. Shit. I’m nervos.”)
With it a mere four days away, there wasn’t much time left for gift hunting. So he pulled on his trusty tan jacket and headed out. He was unsatisfied with what his search had turned up so far. Flowers. Candy. Nylons. It had all been mediocre when she was beyond compare.
On the verge of desperation and distress, he finally managed to stumble upon the right shop. The name above the entrance, Nice Twice, was catchy. And there was a sign: “Personalization available!” Following a quick glance through the streaked shop window, he flicked his cigarette to the ground and opened the wooden door.
As he stepped inside a shopkeeper bell rang. The stench of sandalwood incense and mothballs was thick, causing him to wince. The place was overstuffed, filled with circular clothing racks, shelves of home decor and appliances, and furniture from the sixties. He tread along the faded, orange parquet floor. Squeezed between displays of bell bottoms and coats to reach a large jewelry counter by the cash register.
A man Arthur assumed was the owner popped out from behind a nearby shoe rack. He appeared to be what Penny had disdainfully referred to as a “hippie,” with his beaded headband and light blue jeans. When asked if he’d found anything he liked, Arthur answered, “Not yet.”
His shoulders tilted, drew together as he scanned the contents of the glass cabinet. Being able to get Y/N diamond earrings or a bracelet would have been ideal. He’d heard they were supposed to be symbols of commitment. Show her how important she was to him. But they’d never be affordable, even in a thrift store. There were some lovely brooches but they weren’t her style. She didn’t wear pins, anyway.
About fifteen minutes had passed when, at last, he spotted a suitable piece. The owner gave it to him to inspect. The heart, hanging from a long, silver chain, was a tad smaller than the end of his thumb. Purple, blue, and gold flowers, faded with age, were pressed under the pendant’s rounded, glass front. It was lovely, like her. And picturing her wearing it made his chest tighten.
The necklace was twelve dollars. For two dollars more, the heart’s silver back could be engraved. Arthur could definitely swing that. It took only seconds for him to choose what should be etched into it, having had his imagination sparked by a recent fifties sit-com. It would be ready Monday, the day before her birthday.
While Arthur retrieved his wallet, the owner asked, ”Hey, what’s your sign?”
Forehead furrowed, he tried to decipher the man’s meaning. He was sure he’d heard the question on television and in films. “My sign?” The man clarified and Arthur provided both his and Y/N’s birthdays.
The owner laughed. “Woo wee! That’s a powerful match.” He indicated a collection of astrology scrolls next to the register. “Your lady friend might like one of these.”
Waving dismissively, Arthur shook his head. “I don’t believe in that.” Seemingly determined, the hippie held out a rolled-up scroll. It was about the length of a cigarette, its title printed in a faux-ancient font: “Aries & Scorpio: Love & Romance.” Curiosity piqued, he pressed his lips together. “What does it say?”
“Only good things, man.” This was obviously a well-practiced pitch. And it was working The man retrieved a keyring full of unrolled, laminated scrolls. After flipping through the collection, he handed one to Arthur. He wasn’t the fastest reader, having had difficulties with it since he was a kid. But he scanned the page.
According to “the stars,” palpable chemistry existed between Aries and Scorpio. They were fun, passionate, and explosive in the bedroom. Snorting, he brought the scroll closer. “Your attraction to each other defies logic. Aries has a tough demeanor, but Scorpio brings out the compassion and love hiding underneath. Scorpio has an inner strength Aries finds irresistible.” Hm. What it said about Y/N was true. And she’d told him he was strong (which he didn’t really believe). He smiled, pleased this silly tract paid him such compliments.
He kept going. “As a pair, you are inhalation and exhalation in one. Two sides of the same coin. Aries is the sun to Scorpio’s moon.” Y/N was all those things to him. Even on days he wasn’t sure he wanted to feel better. Even on days it was easier to sink into the familiarity of misery than to strive for the unfamiliarity of feeling good.
It was after reading the final line that he nodded and dug into his pocket for two quarters: “You will be together for decades, even into the next life.”
~~~~~
Though she was standing in an overcrowded subway, squished between a man holding a dog and a woman using her as a vertical bed, Y/N felt giddy. Albeit tired. The day had been brimming with paperwork, phone calls, and running around. But it had started off well, and she was certain its upward trajectory would continue the rest of the night.
When she’d awoken, she’d discovered a pink envelope in Arthur’s place, laying haphazardly on his pillow. She’d boosted herself up on her forearm, ran her fingertips over her handwritten name, and taken out the yellow card.
There was a drawing of a man holding a woman by the waist. Lifting her until her hair touched the cheery, red “Happy Birthday.” The couple appeared thrilled. Taken with each other. And straight out of the forties. It wasn’t quite them, but it did reflect Arthur’s old fashioned romanticism.
No preprinted poem was inside. No famous quotes. Arthur had written a message instead. One which made her ache. “What do you get when you cross chocolat with something that goes thump-thump? A sweetheart. (That’s you.) My life is nicer with you in it. Even Gotham. I’m happy you talked to me. I love you a lot. -Arthur.”
He’d returned to the bedroom. Caught her mid-giggle as she’d wiggled out of her nightgown, hidden between the sheets. He was holding a mug. The same one they’d shared after the first of many lovemaking sessions.
Greedily, she’d ogled his damp hair and slender musculature. Light green eyes soft and serene, he’d sat next to her and pecked her cheek. At the flick of his gaze to her mouth, she’d flung her arms around his shoulders. Stubble burned her skin, her kisses to his dimples urgent.
“Wait,” he’d chuckled, putting the drink on the nightstand. “I made pancakes.” Even as he’d protested, he’d splayed his hand on the small of her back.
“To hell with pancakes,” she’d purred, pulling him under the blankets.
Work had been sentimental, which she’d neither expected nor wanted. Her new job would be starting in a week and a half. The small celebration they’d squeezed in served as both a goodbye and “Over the Hill” party, black balloons and grey streamers included.
Matt had been downcast as he’d shoveled red velvet cake into his mouth. “I’m sorry it turned out this way.”
A lame attempt to lighten the atmosphere had been needed. No one was going to start blubbering on her account. “You could come with me. Follow the conscience I know you have hidden somewhere.” He’d looked askance, turned towards his office. Trying to soften her joke, she’d patted his arm. “Don’t feel too bad. You could still lose the case.”
Settled on the windowsill, she’d gazed out at the streets of the city she’d grown to love. The city she called home, despite having spent only five percent of her existence in it. It was fitting to start this phase of her life here. The only period in which she’d felt whole, both professionally and personally.
A sheen had been in Patricia’s eyes when she’d joined her in the tight space, nudging her with her hip. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you here, accelerating Matt’s hair loss.”
“You’ll have to add it to your list of duties.” Elbowing her gently, Y/N continued. “I’ll only be a couple blocks away. We’ll meet for lunch. And you have my phone number.” Before her own eyes could water, she’d gone to her desk to cut another slice.
Patricia raised her hand. “You’re going to ruin your appetite.”
“Oh? Should I be expecting something?”
Finishing her own piece, Patricia crossed her ankles. “Arthur called for tips while you were in court. He decided I was an expert on you.” Y/N’s brows shooting up prompted a chuckle. “I didn’t give away all your secrets. Just some of your favorite sweets.”
The clench of Y/N’s throat was instant. And shame washed over her for assuming he wouldn’t plan much, if anything at all. He’d been considerate, even during tough times. Like at Christmas, which had been hard for him but turned out well in the end. He’d made it clear that what he coveted most, besides love and validation, was to be treated normally. Normal expectations were a part of that. She’d sought to give him a break when the benefit of the doubt had been what he deserved.
Y/N thought a bit. Surveyed the ornate woodwork in the corners of the room. Then she'd met her friend’s gaze. “Patricia, I want to spend the rest of my life with him.”
“Because he’s getting you cake?”
“I’m not that easy.” Laughing, Y/N sat on the corner of her desk. “Do you remember when I said I was almost forty and was going to grab what I want? Well, I’m forty and he’s what I want.”
Caution and kindness had softened Patricia’s concerns. “I don’t mean to be indelicate. But you’re his first relationship. Is he ready for that?”
Y/N sucked the frosting off her fork. “Our sixth month is soon. I’ll drop a hint. When he’s ready - if he’s ready - he’ll know I am, too.”
She’d been floating since that realization. Since admitting her devotion to Arthur aloud and thereby making it concrete. Since getting a supportive hug from Patricia. And reassurance from Matt, of all people, that she hadn’t entered a mid-life crisis.
That headiness continued as she fumbled with her keys. Upon entering their apartment, music reached her ears. Music with a faster tempo than the classics Arthur usually played. Hanging up her coat and slipping off her shoes, she recognized it as one of her “Best of Soul and Disco” LPs. She braced herself on the wall separating the kitchen from the living room, her cheeks breaking wide open.
Arthur had moved the television and its stand to the side of the coffee table. A blanket, folded into a square, lay in front of the windows. Two plates and two wine glasses were on it. As she approached, she saw sandwiches on a platter. There was pasta salad and potato salad, both covered in plastic wrap, from the deli around the corner. In the center of it all sat an empty vase.
When he came out of the bedroom, magic wand in hand, he stilled. “Oh. Hi. You’re back already?”
A giggle. “I ran.” Biting her bottom lip, she admired his tousled brown curls, feathery, light, and attractive as hell. His face was unobscured by make-up, allowing her to revel in his handsomeness. The top button of his white shirt was undone. And his yellow vest outlined his lean frame in all the right ways. He wore his usual trousers. “Did you have a gig today?”
“No.” He smoothed a palm down his chest and stomach, and she noticed he’d rolled up his sleeves. “Um, I heard you like it.”
She felt herself blush and nodded eagerly. Thank you, Patricia.
With a flick of his wrist, flowers sprouted from the end of the wand. “I wanted to do this outside. On the fire escape. But it’s too cold.” He knelt on the blanket to put the flowers in the vase.
Y/N cocked her head. The juxtaposition of him wearing his “Carnival Casual” outfit, the cutesy charm of the picnic he’d arranged with the music that was playing was ridiculous. The song went on repeatedly about miracles, need, and “sexy things.” She snorted.
As Arthur removed the cellophane from the salads, his shoulders tensed. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” he breathed. “I got too much.”
“No,” she replied, sitting next to him, laying a hand on his thigh. “This is wonderful.” When their eyes met, she found his look at once bashful and flirtatious.
She served the sandwiches and salads while he poured the wine, following her request to fill the glasses to the top. Mostly potato salad ended up on her plate, the mix of mayonnaise, pepper, and egg just right. A majority of the pasta wound up on his - he liked the vinegary flavor. The red wine did not pair with the turkeys on rye he’d prepared, so she saved most of it for dessert.
When Arthur held out an orange roll of paper, she was dabbing her mouth with a cloth napkin. The title made her laugh. She never would have suspected he put stock in the zodiac; she certainly didn’t. Gingerly, she opened the scroll and squinted down at it.
It described her as determined, confident, and extroverted. And called Arthur a curious, emotional introvert. While mostly true, it wasn’t quite accurate. Arthur was only introverted in personal situations, while having the courage to perform as a clown and a stand-up. Those traits could belong to anyone, depending on the situation.
But the next paragraph clued her in as to why he’d bought the horoscope. And given it to her. “You were made for each other. There are times when it’s hard to know how you both managed to ever exist apart. The bond between you is unbreakable. You have much to learn from one another.” A lump formed in her throat when she read the last line, that they’d be together until the next life. She didn’t believe in that, yet longed for it all the same. “Thank you, Arthur.”
The scroll would have been enough. Dinner would have been enough. He would have been enough. But he placed a pink, velvet necklace box on her lap. She blinked at it, hoping he hadn’t spent too much on her. Then she forced that notion from her brain - he was a grown man who could buy what he chose - and cracked it open. Her breath caught.
The heart with pressed flowers was obviously vintage. The size was demure, like her other, few pieces of jewelry. And it was exactly her style: feminine and practical. She was grateful he hadn’t gotten her diamonds or other flashy gems. Her eyes darted to his as she took it out. “This is...” Gently, he turned it over in her palm, and she saw the engraving on the back: A+S.
A+S. Arthur and Y/N. It was a bold move from him. A welcome one.
“I think that’s usually done on trees,” he said. “But there aren’t that many in Gotham.”
Chuckling, she sniffed back her tears and shoved it at him. “Here.” She turned her back towards him. His fingertips dragged along her collarbone as she lifted her hair and he latched the chain. The kiss he placed above the clasp made her shiver. Wanting him to see how the pendant rested right above her cleavage, she unbuttoned the top of her blouse.
“It’s beautiful.” She pulled him in for a kiss. Traced his crow's feet. Let her thumbs wander to the slight puffiness underneath. The wine, along with her earlier confession to Patricia, was making it easier to open up. “You have my whole heart, Arthur,” she sighed into his mouth.
His palm went to her chest as he tilted his head, his other holding the nape of her neck. The tip of his tongue slipped between her lips and warmth enveloped her. She felt his fingers play with the necklace. Heard his ragged inhalation. Knew that pride and pleasure were emboldening him, because she was wearing what he’d gifted.
Eventually, he broke their connection, told her to close her eyes and pecked her nose. She concentrated on his steps to the kitchen. The clatter of him going through the silverware drawer. And then the chill breeze of the glass door being opened.
When she was allowed to peek, she stood and followed him onto the fire escape. A lit cigarette was already between his lips, and he was lighting a candle on a gigantic slice of cake. “You’re supposed to make a wish,” he said, smoke escaping his nostrils.
She snuggled his side, snaked an arm around him as he slung his across her shoulders. After eyeing the flame a moment, she sucked in a deep breath, pursed her lips, and bent closer...
Just in time for a split-second gust of wind to blow out the candle.
Arthur groaned and started to let go of her but she stopped him. “It counts.” She lifted the fork and fed him a bite, grinning at his pleased hum. “You won’t mind me turning grey, will you?”
“No. I won’t be the only one looking old.”
She nuzzled his temple. “You don’t look old. You’re refined.”
“Sure,” he scoffed. They ate silently for a bit, but then he squeezed her tighter. “What did you...” Trepidation lurked behind his question, even after their steamy picnic. “What did you wish for?”
“That we’ll keep loving each other, even through tough times.” She lowered the fork, already full. “That I’ll like my new job.” Letting go of him, she set the plate on the metal stairs, next to his ashtray. “That you’ll be healthy.”
He huffed. “You shouldn’t have wasted any on me.”
“You’re worth all of them.” She kissed his bicep, laid her head on his shoulder. The record playing in the background turned over, switched to a slower song, and she grinned. “Now,” she said, “may I have this dance?”
Delight in his eyes, he bowed. She giggled as he grabbed her around the middle and pulled her flush against his solid frame. He led beautifully, gazing at her as if she was the only woman in the world, guiding her to the beat she was deaf to. He even dared to raise her hand for a modest twirl, and she trusted him enough for it to work.
As they spun slowly, rotating in the lights of their living room and the city, he kissed her hairline. “Happy birthday. I hope you liked it.”
“I loved it.” She captured his thin lips with her own. “Promise you’ll be here for the next twenty.”
“The next forty.” He bumped their noses and lay his cheek on hers. Y/N cuddled deeper into his embrace, feeling more cherished than she had in years.
~~~~~
Hot Chocolate - You Sexy Thing
Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @howdylilflower @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @mrscarnival
#arthur fleck#arthur fleck fanfic#arthur fleck x reader#arthur fleck x ofc#arthur fleck x female reader#joker 2019#watchwhathappens
44 notes
·
View notes
Note
Someone please come up with a Time Travel Fix it, preferably for FFXV, with the title of Trigeminal. It means "three twins." Am I thinking of three KG coming back? Yes. Am I thinking Lib, Crowe, and Nyx? Maybe, that would be fun. Might make more sense for it be three of the KG that made it to the Dawn though. In other news, fun times with anatomy homework!
Ohhhh.
oooooOOOOOOHHHH This.
This is a good idea.
*picks up Plunny* yes. Yes pls.
Gonna go with three KG that made it to the Dawn because those guys have saved my tail a BUNCH and they need more love. (in this, Iphigenia is an OC who represents the Glaive you play in Comrades btw)
For the record, Luca is the dark skinned, brown haired NPC in the suit and Tabul is the dark skinned, black haired NPC wearing the Galahdian coat and with a cornrow ponytail. They are actual NPCs in the Comrades game and I like them.
...
Luca, Tabul, and Iphigenia do not expect to time-travel. Who does? They do not know why they were picked, or how it happened. All they know is that one moment they are staring at the rising sun, crying at finally, finally being out of the darkness, the next they are waking up, startled and afraid, in their respective beds well in the past. They panic, they stare out at sunlight they haven’t seen in ten years, at a thriving world that they know is in ruins. They wonder if this is a dream, or insanity, or if the Accursed has caught them in an illusion like he was rumored to be capable of.
They are not sure what to make of it. Their younger bodies, the sunlight, their relatives that are alive and well.
Luca and Tabul find each other within the week, they both live in Little Galahd, and they are both desperate to find another who Remembers. They put their heads together, and by week two decide ... it’s not a dream. This is REAL somehow.
Considering they were there when the six Astrals came down to judge them all for the crimes of a few of their number ... time-travel actually doesn’t seem totally impossible.
But they wonder who they are missing. If anyone else Remembers. But discreet poking around Little Galahd reveals no one, not that they can see anyway. They debate and plan and finally they decide to join the Kingsglaive again. If they are going to change anything, they need magic to do it.
And it’s a few weeks into basic training that they find their third member.
It’s easy to spot her, casually towering over the heads of most of the glaives at her looming six foot four inches of pure muscle, her face clear of the network of scars they had grown used to seeing over the last ten years (scars from the Betrayal, a ship crash she had barely survived). She’s a new recruit, signed up as soon as she stepped off the truck she’d hitchhiked to Insomnia on, her skin dark now only because of its nature, not from layers of dirt that never came off. Brown eyes spot them staring at her across the way and Luca whistles, short and shrill in a signal the Glaives had come up with to compensate for the lack of light with which to read hand signs in the field.
Iphigenia, for that is the only name they know her by, her old one abandoned after the Betrayal, smiles slightly and calmly saunters over to them. No one gets in her way, all the other recruits and even full glaives scatter to clear a path. Luca and Tabul aren’t surprised.
It would seem Iphigenia had not chosen to change her style in the slightest. Not even here in the past, years before the Betrayal was anything but a bad dream and not a terrible reality.
That would require forgiving herself as much as forgiving others, and they both know that isn’t going to happen anytime soon. If ever.
Iphigenia lowers herself to sit next to them, one hand absently flicking a few stray strands of newly dyed soft pink hair out of her face. As recruits, they can’t customize their uniforms yet, but they are allowed a few personal items, and the purple ribbon holding back most of her cherry blossom stands out.
Just like the slightly red, definitely new tattoo on her left arm, starting from her wrist and curling up to her bicep stands out. The vibrant green snake with its tongue of thorns, surrounded by pink roses, is as screamingly loud a message to their Galahdian senses as ever.
Pink, purple, green. Betrayal, Loyalty, Watchfulness.
It could mean several things. That she has been Betrayed by one to whom she was Loyal and will not be taken off guard again. That she Betrayed someone to whom she owed Loyalty and others should watch out lest she do the same. It could even mean she considers herself so Betrayed she will never give Loyalty again.
But there is a conspicuous lack of braid in her hair, as there has been for years, and while Luca can see some of the glaives already wondering if the tall, silent new recruit is a Mainlander who doesn’t know the color code, Luca knows the truth.
She is Galahdian. One who chose to sheer off her braid at the base and throw it at the Six’s feet. And the message behind her colors is not one but all three.
Iphigenia had never forgiven herself for falling for the traitorous talk. Sonitus, Tredd, Axis, and Luche had been fellow Glaives, people to whom she had been Loyal (particularly her cousin, her blood clan who she had trusted the judgement of above all others, and the mere thought made Tabul’s blood burn in rage for her), and they had betrayed her by tricking her into treason. But she had also chosen to follow them into treason, which meant she was the one who had Betrayed the man who held her Loyalty (the king, King Regis, father of the Chosen King who was to save them all).
The last is in the tattoo. She has given her Loyalty once, she has been Betrayed and Betrayed another once. She gave the last of her Loyalty to the Chosen King that day the Draconian drew his blades and bid the glaives to defend themselves and prove their right to live, when he declared that they would only be absolved should the Chosen King grant forgiveness. She will not give it to anyone else ever again. Not even Clan.
“Never could do subtle, could you,” Tabul sighs as he sees the way the crowd watches them, watches Iphigenia. Iphigenia just smiles crookedly and shrugs, never one for spoken word, not since a bad encounter with a Psychomancer ripped out her tongue (an injury that no longer exists, but seven years of habit is hard to undo).
“So what’s the plan?” she signs in the hybrid mix of GSL KSL, and the much trickier NSL Biggs and Wedge had taught them, the one they’d studied as a joke more than anything until it became useful for coded communication.
Tabul and Iphigenia look to Luca, their strategist, and the dark-skinned woman sips her water in thoughtful silence. She sets the water down with a clink and then smiles as she signs back, “Step one, get our magic back.”
“And step two?” Tabul signs.
“I’ll let you know when we’ve hit step one.” Luca signs at the same moment Iphigenia casually flicks out-
“Stab Drautos in his-” she ends the phrase with a gesture that is not traditionally sign language but is universally understood as something sensitive and insulting. Tabul chokes on his drink, having not expected a reason to laugh so soon in the day. Luca just sighs.
“I wonder if Lord Scientia had this much trouble wrangling his idiots,” she mutters in sign, the barest waggle of her fingers to form the letters almost like she’s trying to whisper with her hands.
Iphigenia just huffs in amusement and goes back to watching the other non-time-traveling glaives try to figure out whether Iphigenia is a screaming warning sign or just an oblivious Mainlander.
55 notes
·
View notes
Text
Boyfriends and Breakfast
Characters: Deceit (Damien), Logan, Roman, Virgil
Ships: Roman / Virgil /Deceit / Logan
Trigger Warnings: Food mention, Cursing, Crying, Minor Violence/Death threats (I think that’s it, let me know if I need to add any!)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Word Count: 1078
Ao3 link
This was for a Dice Roll Event I tried out that you can find here. Hope you enjoy whatever this ended up being!
--------------------
To put it lightly, Roman was having a bad day.
It started when Roman woke up later than usual, making him feel like his not so glittery self. He also was breaking out and didn’t have enough time to cover it up because of waking up late. Great. He tried to get ready while making his breakfast to save time and, to help make his day better, he made his favorite breakfast of sausage and pancakes. But trying to get ready made him forget about the breakfast, ending in it being completely charred. Greeaaat. Not to mention, he had to chase down the bus to get it to stop. At least when he gets to school he can see his boyfriends and the day can get better from there.
Roman was wrong. Logan had a student council meeting, Virgil was doing theatre tech stuff that didn’t involve the actors, and Damien was staying home for some reason that he won’t reveal. He closed his locker after gathering what he needed and started walking to his class, when the bell rang signaling he was late. Not to mention the teacher of the class he was going to hands out detentions to anyone who’s late no matter what. So fucking great.
“Mr. Prince, decided to join us I see.”
“Sorry abou-”
The teacher cut him off before he could finish. “Detention. Now, take your seat and we’ll continue.”
He complied, not wanting to start stockpiling detentions. Apparently, that didn’t even matter. The teacher kept calling on him the entire class period even if he didn’t know, then giving him some sort of punishment if he got it wrong, ‘Is that even allowed?’, who knew at this point.
The rest of school went very slowly, though his other class periods were not as bad as first hour. He wasn’t able to see his boyfriends at all that day, the meetings went on into second period, which was the only class Roman had with them all, so he was left in a bad mood. He failed a pretty big test in two different classes, left part of his homework at home for another, and missed half of the notes because of the teacher going too fast in his last two classes. Not to mention, he dropped his lunch tray and got milk all over him, leaving him wet and uncomfortable for the rest of the day. At least school was almost over and he could go to rehearsal.
Well, turns out that rehearsal was cancelled because during the tech thing that was going on, a light fell where someone would’ve been and caused the auditorium to be deemed ‘temporarily unsafe’. Rehearsal was one of the few escapes he has when he’s having a bad day, today was one of the days he really needed it. Instead, he just went home, set his stuff down on the floor, went over to the couch, and started crying.
He didn’t know how much time went by when he got a call from Logan. He wiped away the tears on his face and accepted it, relieved to be able to hear one of his boyfriend’s voices.
Logan started the conversation first. “Hello, dear.”
“Heya.” Roman responded, his voice still somewhat thick from crying. He hoped Logan wouldn’t pick up on it.
He did, he always notices little details. With emotions, he’s not the best with the comforting portion, but he can correlate signs to an emotion.
“Are you alright? Do you require assistance?”
“Lo, I’m fine. I just had a bad day, is all.”
“Ah.” His side of the line went silent for a brief moment. “I’m coming over, expect me in 20.”
“Lo-” He hung up before Roman could object.
Now he was bothering one of his boyfriends who probably had a lot of work. Why was he so pathetic? He just sat on the couch, his mom still at work, and went over everything that happened during the course of the day. He didn’t even realize he started crying again until he felt someone's hand wiping them away. He looked up to see Logan’s familiar and comforting face. Roman took note that he brought a bag that looked pretty full.
“Hello, Roman. You mentioned you were having a bad day, so I brought you some of your favorite movies that I own, since you only Disney and you enjoy some of my Pixar collection, and some hot cocoa mix that we can make. Also, I called the others so we can have ‘squishy recovery’ time, as you guys like to call it, to help your bad day.”
Roman was a bit shocked at how much thought Logan put into this. Then again, this was Logan, the person who was head of the student council because he thinks of every detail, but for some reason, Roman was surprised at how much Logan cared for him to think of all of this. But Roman was just being a bother to them, why would they- wait.
His thoughts were cut off by the door opening, slamming into the wall to be more precise, to reveal Virgil.
“Logan, I got your message and I brought the weighted blankets.” He walked over to the couch to drop said blankets and to check on Roman. “Tell me what happened and whose ass I need to kick?”
That got a small chuckle out of Roman. “You don’t have to kick anyone’s ass, V.” Before he could elaborate further, the door opened once again by Damien.
“I brought food and a notebook to put down the names of people we need to kill.” He declared, as he walked towards the kitchen to set down the bag of food.
Roman just rolled his eyes and replied, “What kind of food did ya get?”, not really knowing what else to say.
Damian didn’t answer, so Roman got up and walked over to see him setting out his favorite breakfast food, pancakes and sausage. Damien saw him stop and offered him a small smile and a sausage link. He gladly accepted the link, grabbed a plate to pile food on, and sat down to start eating. His boyfriends soon came over to join him and Damien at the table, later heading back over to the couch to watch a mix of Pixar and Disney and some ‘squish recovery’.
Yeah, Roman was having a bad day, but he has his boyfriends to make it all better.
#sanders sides#roman sanders#virgil sanders#deceit sanders#logan sanders#hurt/comfort#writing challenge#highschool au
27 notes
·
View notes