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yunhostinyuyu · 3 years

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pairing: bad boy!san x fem reader

genre: college au, suggestive, almost smut

wc: 3.1k

synopsis: Y/N swore herself to never get involved with people like Choi San: the typical fuckboy. She hated him (or she at least made herself believe she did) but thats the exact reason that drew him towards her...

warnings: teasing, making out, mentions of sex, alcohol and drugs

—

„look at who we have here? Y/N doing her dirty laundry, never thought I’d witness that.“

you were hunched on your floor with baskets of freshly washed clothes all around the floor. Whipping your head to the door of your dorm‘s bathroom, and you immediately regret it. The cheeky comment came from no other than Choi San - Resident fuck boy and unfortunately, your roommates best friend. He is the type of guy your parents would warn you from. The type to play with a girl until he’s satisfied and dips right after.

The type of you you would never want to get involved with in any sort of way.

But, since he hangs around your dorm frequently and you share a few classes and lectures, that was not easy. Crashing on the couch you bought with your roommate bought together when you moved in, more often than you’d like. Throwing certain looks at you when you entered the lecture halls or passed by him when he was chatting and smoking with his friends off campus. Never letting you breathe for a single moment, he enjoyed teasing you. Needless to say you hated his guts for many things, and he just added more reasons to your imaginary list with every passing day you saw him around campus.

Meanwhile, you’re lifestyle was the complete opposite of his, being the well mannered and friendly classmate, the typical nice girl everyone thought you were - and what your parents wanted you to be. Of course, you were not always like that, especially around your friends. With them you could act the way you truly are, and that was anything but the front you put on most of the time. But San made you drop any sort of friendliness to curse at him every chance you got. And right now was no different:

“Fuck off Choi. Wooyoung isn’t here, so leave.” you spat while not paying anymore attention to him, instead going back to the task at hand.

Taking a few steps towards you, inspecting the room as if he had seen it for the first time, and paying close attention of you putting clothes out of the washing machine. His eyes paying close attention to your hands that move in fluid motions.

“I know, but he’ll be here any second.” Trailing off, and you decided to not even answer him - he isn’t worth your time or nerves right now, after all he just wanted to get under your skin and rile you up. And the less you talk, the better.

He hums to himself, as he bends down to pick up one black, lacy pair of undergarments, inspecting them closely. His thumbs grazing over the neat material, fingertips holding them up in the air. You don’t realize he took something from the basket to your left until he comments on them.

“Are these new? Must be, huh... your little ass would look sooo cute in them. Are you gonna wear them for me one day, Y/N?” his low voice echoed through the tiled room, and you are fast to react: snatching the pair of panties back, out of his grip and throwing it back into the basket. Scoffing, showing your stride at him without any hesitation. “In your dreams. Now, leave me alone. I’m not gonna repeat myself, Choi.” Your features twist as you grow more and more annoyed with him.

“Oh don’t worry,” he backed up a few steps, but the cocky grin stayed on his lips, “with that attitude I’ll most certainly dream of it.”

You heard the door twist, which could only mean that Wooyoung was finally here to save you from any further suggestive comments. Considering you couldn’t stand anything more that was about to leave his mouth.

Admittedly, San has his reputation for a reason: him being one of the most handsome guys you have ever laid your eyes on. And if he wasn’t such an asshole, there would be a possibility you’d be interested in him. And yes, if the stigma that your parents had embroidered into your brain, that ‘sex is bad’ and to stay ‘pure’ until you’re married. If you could push that out of your mind for good, you would be maybe like San. Maybe, you’d even be with him... but god forbid he would ever find out you thought of him like that, especially when you had one of your moments, late at night. If he would know about your honest thoughts, he would use it to his advantage. He wouldn’t give in until he got his way with you - in his very own way.

“San-ah! Come on, we gotta go!” your roommate screams and prompts the visitor to get going quick.

“Too bad, guess I’ll see you around, Y/N. Maybe one day my dreams will become reality nonetheless.” He turns on his heels and dashes towards his friend. The repeating sound of the lock falling into place made you sigh out loudly, pressing your forehead against the cold material of the washing machine you’re still sitting in front of.

Incidents like these are not new and you have already gotten used to San having zero shame when it came to anything even remotely personal or sexual. He knew how he comes across, which only scores him more and more girls to take home and to make his body count grow rapidly. But until now, it hasn’t worked with you, and he’s trying time and time again to wrap you around his finger. Without success.

And you planned to keep it this way.

–

“I hate you for dragging me here.” you groaned after you kept chewing on the rim of your red cup. The girl on your right ignored your comment and kept scanning the crowd.

It was unbelievable, but yes: you were stuck on a frat party... again. Your cousin Mijung needed to meet a guy she was planning on hooking up with, and you lost a bet, so you had to go with her. In secret, she was still scared to go by herself and you wanted to help her - regardless of that you hated parties like this. Obviously, you hoped that she wouldn’t leave your side too soon, but at the same time it only meant you could get home earlier, which was a win in your books.

„Sure you do. But I don’t care right now, because you owe it to me. You could let loose for once and also get some good di-“

„No, I’m not, and you know I can’t!“ you cut Mijung off and she lifts her hands up in defeat.

She just scoffs while scanning the place for faces she might recognize. “Yes, yes I know. God forbid your parents ever find out your at a party like this, or even have sex. But they have nothing to worry about.” Thinking to yourself that they really do not need to worry, but deep inside you wanted to do all these things that you got restricted from. Forcefully restricted yourself from, and the longer you thought about it, you wanted to go against it. Date and sleep with guys as you please, live a little. But still, something unknown was holding you back from it.

“You know it’s not just that but also-“ you started explaining yourself for the nth time in your life, but now she cut you off and hopped off her barstool. The man she was waiting for finally appeared and she left with him after they exchanged a quick peck as a greeting. Being uncomfortable with the scene, you fumbled with your phone in order not to look awkward or out of place - but that’s exactly what you were. And on top of that, you were alone.

You held your phone tightly in your grip, watching over the intense crowd, people on people and the sight made you nauseous, especially when you locked eyes with someone that was kissing or grinding on each other. You wanted to be able to do those sorts of things, but at the same time it scared you, almost disgusted you. But the sting of alcohol in your cup that you barely drank made everything worse. The situation altogether was just too much for you.

“Now look at that, am I high or is the notorious Y/N at our place?”

You cursed to yourself when you recognized his voice.

“Fuck off, Choi.” was the first and only thing that you could think of while still scrolling mindlessly through your apps to appear busy.

He slides into the seat Mijung left empty just a few minutes ago. “Now, you know that doesn’t affect me. I just wanna talk a bit. I’m not feeling getting hammered tonight if I’m being honest.” He started a conversation and you forced yourself to look at him. He looked too good to be true with his messy hair and black shirt and jeans. But you ignored his visuals in order to give him a strict look.

“And what do you wanna talk about? We never talk. And I’m not gonna be here for much longer anyways.” You explained and San rose and eyebrow at your comment. “Oh? So we’re do you plan on going?”

You didn’t know, since Mijung was left so early, you haven’t given it any thought other than going back home, even if it was too early to leave, but yet dark outside.

“Home. To my dorm. I hate places like this.” You looked away, and he noticed your discomfort. The atmosphere was really awkward between the two of you. As a result you turned slightly away from him.

He sighs, “You know, we can go somewhere quiet.” You adamantly shake your head at his suggestion, “no, I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re aware of your reputation and so am I. I’m not doing that.” you spat disheartinly, assuming it was another one of his attempts to get into your pants. But surprisingly, it wasn’t.

“No, you listen now,” he took hold of your arm and twisted you back to face him. “You’re uncomfortable here, I can see that. I’m taking you to my room. And not to get with you, but because I promised Wooyoung to take him home when he’s completely wasted tonight. I can take you home then alongside him.” he says and his brows furred a little.

Wooyoung was someone you trusted, so if he trusted San to take him home when he’s completely shitfaced, then maybe you could also trust him? All alarms went off in your head telling you he was anything but trustworthy. But as you looked into his eyes, there was something genuine about his offer. But after a few moments of thinking, you gave him the benefit of the doubt: you complied and nodded, “okay, but just because Woo trusts you.” But that was enough for him.

He got up and urged you to come after him, walking up the stairs until the loud noises from the other people steadily died down. After the two of you entered his room, your nervousness und sense of awkwardness disappeared again. Even if it was San, you were used to him, to his presence. And it was better then to be lost and alone downstairs.

“Make yourself feel at home.” He introduces you when he plops down at his bed, while you took a closer look around his personal space. There were plenty of books on his shelf, a flag hung up on the wall, and the desk was messy in books and other stuff he used frequently. To be honest, you imagined his room to be more messy, but it was just a kind of creative chaos.

The silence in his room was thick. He watched your movements closely for a while, but you tried to give him not much attention, even if you felt his stares linger on you. Minutes passed until he started to speak up again:

“Do you mind if I ask you something? I’m kinda curious, y’know.”

You turned around and look into his eyes, that are loosely hidden behind his dark strains of hair over his forehead. Arms pushed behind him on the bed to support his upper body, leaning back. You walk back a little until you sit down in a giant bean bag that was in the center of the small room. While you adjust yourself you look over to him once again, signaling him to continue talking. He sits up a little, leaning forward, elbows resting on his thighs.

“You know, any other girl would beg me to fuck them if they were in your spot. Why are you so determined to do anything but that?”

Taken aback, you knew San was bold, but you didn’t expect him to go there, especially not at this time, when he offered a hide out for you so considerably. Shrugging your shoulders you dip your chip to your chest and try to figure out a way to answer his question.

“I’m, uhm, I’m... it’s just not my thing.” You stutter out, and you are pretty sure you have an aura of uncertainty surrounding you. Of course, San picks up on it:

“Wait, not your thing? What kinda guy did you sleep with that make you think that way about sex? Or girl?” His facial expressions clearly confused, not yet understanding your reasoning.

You stayed silent. Because you couldn’t muster to say the truth: you haven’t. Yes, you were a still a virgin, in college. Nobody knew other than Mijung, not even any of your closest friends. And the fact that San was this close to discovering your secret, or probably already did, made you anxious.

“Mmh, I get it now. You never got laid. Not even once in your life. Am I Right?” He assumed and hit the nail right on the head. You wanted to cuss him out, hit and slap him, but that would only prove him right. The blush that crept on your face was answer enough for him. He stood up from his place on the bed to sit back down next to you on the floor. You couldn’t look at him, because of the pure humiliation he’s putting you through, trying to get swallowed by the fuzzy material of your seat.

“So that’s the reason you’re acting like this most of the time: you have never gotten any action together than with yourself. How am I only just now figuring this out?” He chuckles, having you in a spot were you couldn’t get out as easy as you’d like. Still not opting to speak, gnawing at the inside of your cheek instead, but you don’t need to anyway, because he continues to piece the evidence together.

“Wooyoung once mentioned you had strict parents, you know. Judging by how you act around your friends, I didn’t think you’d care about what they thought, no? You’re well past the age of being ‘daddy’s good girl’. And also by the way you throw shallow insults at me every time we are in the same room, I can tell you that you’re anything but the nice girl your parents want you to be. That’s not the real you. But Y/N, you know it’s your life? You can do whatever you want? If you want to take drugs, take them. If you want to smoke, smoke. If you want to get dicked down, then for fucks sake get some! You’re old enough to make your own decisions.”

Stunned by his rant, you scanned his face for any signs of emotions, but it was really hard to tell what was going on in his head. He sighs and dips his chin to the side, before finding your eyes again, taking your hand into his rough ones. The physical touch had a certain effect on you, and you wanted to be closer to him. Your future self your probably slap yourself in the face for this, but right now you got lost in his dark eyes and deep stare. Feeling vulnerable under the intensity of his gaze, not knowing what to do or say. Taking a quick breath, you uttered under your breath “where is this going, San?” Against all expectations, he smiles.

“Anything that happens here, between you and I, nobody else is gonna know about it. Not a single soul.” His hand slowly start to wander up your arm, touching the skin of your neck and threads his fingers through the strains of hair that rest on your shoulder. You don’t feel anything other than the alarms in the back of your mind slowly subside and be replaced by other thoughts.

“Just tell me no and I’ll stop.” His voice comes out raspy and seductive, and it sends waves of arousal down your core, even if the only physical contact you two had was from his wandering hands. The thought excited you, and he had a point: you could do whatever you wanted, and up until now, the consequences would keep you from giving into him. But there are no worries of the sort holding you back anymore, and if it was only for tonight, so be it. He was to strong, his effect was too strong.

His eyes never leave yours, until you give him an answer.

“Yes, okay. Yes I want it. I want you to show me what I’m missing out on.” You brace yourself for whats coming next, but nothing could prepare you for what he had in mind. He grabs your hips to lift you up, and in shock your arms fly to grab his shoulders. He settles you down in his lap, hands immediately find your ass and grips the flesh through your jeans. You both lean forward, hot breath mixing and hitting your faces. That was until San looses his patience just a few seconds later and presses his lips onto yours. And it wasn’t like anything you have ever felt before.

The two of you move in sync for what feels like ages, his tongue entering your mouth and taking the lead as he continues to grip your waist and butt to draw a few whimpers out of you. Your fingers found their place in his nape and gripped his hair as you busied your mouth with his. He breaks the kiss and moves down towards your neck and starts to suck on your skin, making marks blossom in shades of red and purple.

“If you want this to be a secret, you should make sure to cover up your marks later, because I’m not letting you go without adding my mark to your beautiful, beautiful body.”

Eyes blown out in lust, and you died in anticipation. He sucked more and more hickeys until he was satisfied with the finished product. He lifted his head up again and you wanted to kiss him again.

But then, you heard something hit the door from the outside, followed by a thud and a load groan. “San-ah! Let me in, I need to -“

—

#wow idk why either just go with it #ateez #ateez au #ateez fic #ateez writing #ateez x reader #ateez san #choi san #ateez smut #ateez suggestive #san x reader #san x you #san fluff #san smut

281 notes · View notes

miraculouscontent · 3 years

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Didn’t Need Burrow (April 24th-May 3rd)

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Marinette is exposed to the world as Ladybug by the end of the series. This is largely so Adrien gets to bask in everyone knowing that HE ended up with Paris' protector on his arm, emphasizing her status as a trophy that he won.

This feels too likely, I hate it.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: After being badgered into trusting her with the Fox, Marinette tries to convince Alya that she can't expose herself as Rena Rouge any further, and should take advantage of the Fox's long-range capabilities to stay hidden. Alya dismisses the danger; if she tries hiding at all, it doesn't take long to reveal herself, claiming it's unheroic to hide. Shadowmoth then targets her personally, with Marinette taking the blame.

I WOULD EXCUSE THE FOX THING IF IT STAYED LONG RANGE BUT I’M WAITING FOR THEM TO RUIN IT

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Rather than outing Ladybug, Alya reveals *herself* as Rena Rouge. She claims that this is fine since Hawkmoth already knows her secret identity... and besides, it gives the LadyBlog more cred!

Because why not I guess, the bar for her is already so low.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Marinette will be forced to give up Guardianship/go through the memory wipe... but continue as Ladybug. This is mined for Sadrien AND resets LadyNoir; she no longer recalls all the annoying shit he's pulled, offering a fresh start. May lead into Reversed Rectangular Romance with Chat Noir pining after the old Ladybug while she develops a crush on her brooding partner. He's so ~dark~ and ~mysterious~ and gives her such ~wistful looks~!

Marinette gets to give up guardianship but at what cost. (also, that last line about Chat being dark and brooding)

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: In a Shocking Twist, Emilie is revealed to have been evil and manipulative like Chloe/Lila, and presented as solely responsible for her husband's jerkassery. This sets up GabNath as endgame with Gabriel absolved for all his misdeeds. (Any similarities between Emilie and her son's behavior are summarily ignored.)

Because Adrien is male, obviously. He gets a pass.

Anonymous said:

Didn't need the Burrow: A lot of Adrien's supposed childhood friendship with Chloe was actually with Zoe. Which is supposed to give the new character some instant connections and serves as another proof of Chloe being irredeemable. Bonus: Marinette finds out and whether or not she spills the beans, it will be something she'll get called out for.

So, either a retcon or Adrien comes off as even more of a liar in “Origins.”

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Su-Han will tell Marinette outright that her responsibilities mean she's not allowed to be happy. This is used to garner sympathy for HIM - Isn't it sad how his duties have completely consumed his life? Clearly he needs help learning how to unwind and relax! Meanwhile Mari's drowning in the background, but this isn't about HER, now is it?

I’M SO SAD

WHYYY

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Adrien discovers Gabriel's secret and hides the truth, forbidding Plagg from telling anyone. Not just to protect his father/family, but because he's not ready to stop being Chat Noir. No villains means no reason for heroes, and he doesn't even know his lady's secret identity yet--! Naturally, his reasoning is treated as totally understandable and sympathetic, even as he enables the conflict to continue indefinitely.

“CHAT BLANC” VERSION 2.0 I HATE IT DX

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Hawk/Shadowmoth starts aiming to *kill* the exposed/temp heroes in order to prevent them from potentially joining battles. This only happens during akuma fights (so that it falls upon Ladybug to 'set things right' with her powers). Chat Noir makes minimal (if any) effort to protect them, relying upon his 'partner' to carry the day instead and bring them back.

Ladybug: *trying to save everyone*

Chat Noir: *filing his claws in the background*

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Marinette will be pressured to make others permanent heroes and let them have their Miraculi full-time. This sets up for Hawkmoth to eventually get his hands on the Miracle Box, meaning any Miraculi that haven't been distributed are now in the villains' clutches. Not only does this dramatically cut down her pool of allies, Marinette gets to be guilt-stricken over failing all her duties and not listening to their demands while she had the chance.

Marinette, you’re such a fAilUrE as guardian!!

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Zoe will turn out to be another love interest for Adrien - only it's as the New-Bee with *Chat Noir*, enabling the dreaded Reversed Romo-Rhombus dynamic with Ladybug becoming jealous of their chemistry.

girls are such jealous types, haven’t you guys heard? :)

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Ladybug gets a new default look (for the sake of selling more ML merch in Real Life), trading the spotted onesie for another form-fitting spandex suit that 'highlights her feminine charms' even more. This is treated as a sign of her 'growing up'.

wow i hate it

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Alya shipping Marinette with both Adrien and Chat Noir after finding out her identity.

I am 100% not here for shipping shenanigans.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Alya will be responsible for leading Lila to suspect that Marinette and Ladybug are connected. Though Alya may actually *realize* that she slipped up, she won't warn Marinette about the potential security breach, not wanting her to get upset/any more paranoid than she already is.

And of course, this will be used to make people “sympathize” with her. See, she cAreS about Marinette’s feelings, how can you be mad at her for this??

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: There will be more plots where Marinette's 'lesson of the week' is that she must learn how to better control and suppress her emotions, and that she is literally not ALLOWED to be upset because Hawk/Shadowmoth will win if she does. At the same time, Adrien is encouraged to marinate in his own unhappiness over Ladybug not giving in to his advances. If the danger involved ever comes up, it's presented as purely Ladybug/Marinette's fault for rejecting him.

I’m starting to think some of you are ZAG insiders because wow that sounds likely. DX

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: A recurring theme in episodes featuring the 'girl squad' will be Marinette meddling too much, as her efforts to help them cross boundaries THEY aren't comfortable with. If she dares to bring up their past insistence that friends don't keep secrets, they'll call her out as a hypocrite while refusing to acknowledge their own hypocrisies.

“Marinette’s boundaries? Who??? No, Marinette, what about THEIR boundaries???” - the writers

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Adrien will feel sorry for Chloe and regret the role he played in her losing her Miraculous. This is mainly a vehicle to help explain why everything that went wrong with her/Queen Bee is totally, 100% Marinette/Ladybug's fault, along with showing how forgiving Adrien is and how he 'sees the best in everyone', and is clearly right to do so. Bonus: this is combined with him distrusting the NewBee for not being Chloe/making her jealous.

*sigh*

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Chloe will get akumatized out of anger over the New Bee, and Ladybug is blamed for her insensitivity/forced to apologize to her.

I’m still stunned at the mental gymnastics they go through to make Marinette/Ladybug apologize to people.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Su-Han will confirm the popular fan claim that Ladybug and Black Cat bearers are, in fact, soulmates/bound together by destiny. Chat Noir gleefully rubs this in Ladybug's face; her disbelief and horror is played entirely for laughs at her expense. Adrien's behavior escalates further afterwards, bolstered by the knowledge that it doesn't matter how shitty he gets, as she belongs to him regardless.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: In addition to confirming the notion that Ladybugs and Black Cats are 'meant to be', it's revealed that other Miracli are destined soulmates, like Foxes and Turtles or Butterflies and Peacocks, and other random Miraculi pairings that 'coincidentally' align with various official ships.

brb, need to step away to scream on my porch

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: At least one episode will have Marinette mess up a potion, preventing her and the other heroes from enjoying its benefits during a big fight. This is blamed either on her anxiety causing her to overthink it or on her being a poor student, lamenting the fact that she didn't have more time with Master Fu. (Bonus if Su-Han takes advantage of this to slam Fu; extra bonus points if Mari defends him by insisting *she* was the one who screwed up, not her master.)

It’s like a main course of Marinette blame, oh my god.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Su-Han will make various sexist comments about Marinette and the other heroines, implying that they were all poor choices Because Girl. Since nothing says 'Girl Power' like insisting they must prove themselves to doubtful men who will never fully accept them. After all, Marinette is the only one who ever learns lessons; therefore, Su-Han will never grow out of his 'old-fashioned views'.

And when the writers are called out, they’ll go, “bUt hE’s jUst oLd fAshiOned”

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Adrien gets his Ring revoked by Su-Han for misbehavior. This is depicted as a terrible miscarriage of justice, and Marinette must convince Su-Han to return the Ring without learning who Chat Noir is. The more terrible the inciting act, the bigger the bonus points; did he skip another battle like Glaciator? Pull another Syren-level stunt? Cataclysm another innocent? Who cares? Sadrien is Sad, and that's the biggest crisis of all...

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Adrien pulls another Syren-level stunt (or worse); rather than holding him responsible, Su-Han berates Marinette for her poor leadership and failure to keep him in line. Bonus if she confides/vents to Alya afterwards only for Alya to AGREE with Su-Han that she's failed at being a good partner to Chat Noir. Fever Mode activates if Alya implies Marinette's failure is due to her inability to admit her feelings for Chat Noir and/or confess to Adrien.

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Alya will pull an Adrien re: Lila, refusing to openly support Marinette against her. She'll claim that they need to 'gather evidence' first before exposing her to everyone. In practice, this means that Alya is willing to continue feigning ignorance, pretending that she's taken in by Lila's lies, while Marinette continues to suffer since she won't play along. Any evidence-gathering we see Alya engaging in is minimal, if she's shown doing it at all.

This is 150% one of the most accurate Alya-Lila confrontations I’ve seen from these predictions.

I hate it.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: When confronting Lila, Alya will insist that 'Ladybug told me herself' that they aren't friends. Lila attempts to convince her that Ladybug is lying to try and protect her; this either works or spurs Alya to declare that LB 'hates liars', making her suspicious of Marinette's potential connections to the superheroine.

Alya

Alya why

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Alya will only treat Marinette with anything approaching a veneer of respect while she's Ladybug. (As in 'Transformed/wearing the spotted suit/actively superheroing'.) Her behavior towards her 'regular BFF', meanwhile, will continue to degrade.

and, as a alternative:

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Having learned that Marinette = Ladybug, Alya shows less and less respect towards the superheroine. (Not that she displayed much in the first place, but you know what they say: familiarity breeds contempt. And Alya's convinced that she knows her SO WELL, despite all signs to the contrary...)

Thanks. Hate them both. T_T

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Alya will end up outing Ladybug in a moment of anger. Though this is treated as impulsive and spur-of-the-moment, the act itself hints otherwise. (For example, she posts it on the LadyBlog; that post had to be *written up* first, and she likely had to think about what evidence she'd use to back up her claim... Not to mention if she includes pictures or video. Showing that Alya thought about it well before her 'tipping point', no matter how she claims otherwise.)

okay but you missed the part where Marinette is blamed for it--

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Tikki's comments about kwamis not understanding love are foreshadowing that they will later claim that Ladybug and Chat Noir's relationship has shown them what true love is. Because none of the other relationships they've ever seen or experienced in their long, looooooong history compare to the Four-Cornered F**kery.

Tikki sure knew a lot about love when she commented on all of Marinette’s love issues.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Kagami will come to regret 'impulsively' breaking up with Adrien for being a lying jerkface, while Luka moves on and finds happiness with somebody else with relative ease. Because guys are allowed to move on with their lives while girls have to wallow in the miserable mires of wish-you-were-(still)-mine. Woes--!

no but see Adrien is “worthy” of love while Marinette isn’t

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Marinette is either responsible for the secret Juleka's keeping (such as trusting her with a Miraculous) or inadvertently sets Rose on its scent in the first place, making her *supposedly* responsible for the strife which follows.

We already know that it’s not Juleka’s secret at least but Marinette could absolutely still set Rose off.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Marinette will be taught techniques/given a power-up that shuts off her emotions completely, or simply reaches the point where she figures out how to do so on her own. This is ultimately shown to be a bad thing/another mistake not because of the toll it takes on her psyche, but because the fully repressed Marinette/Ladybug no longer has any interest whatsoever in Adrien, and *we can't have THAT!*

Us getting to see Marinette not crushing on Adrien... but at what cost?

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Alya posts more embarrassing content on the LadyBlog, making it look like Ladybug keeps screwing up/making mistakes. Marinette asks her to stop, worried that she's undermining people's faith in her; Alya blows off her concerns and accuses her of getting a swelled head/becoming a 'control freak' about her image, insisting it's no big deal if people see she's human while refusing to treat her as such. (Meanwhile none of Chat Noir's mistakes/misbehavior make it onto the blog.)

“Bonus” if Alya gets particularly huffy because it’s jOunrAliSm and she’d be bIAsEd if she took down something that made her fRiEnD uNComOFTablE.

elflynns-horde-of-stuff said:

Don't need a burrow: The upcoming episode "Guiltrip" is gonna be 50% Sadrien. And we won't even get any new developments on his character for it.

so the usual

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: It's revealed that Ladybug holders are 'natural good luck charms' for everybody around them, but are punished by karmic backlash for even the *slightest* hint of selfishness (or self-consideration). Hence Marinette's whole plight, which is still presented as her fault for not being able to reach an impossibly perfect ideal. (Anything we learn about Black Cat holders, meanwhile, is purely for Agrestangst and has no bearing on anything observable within the show itself.)

Honestly, with the bad luck Marinette had in “Origins,” you’d think she’d be meant for the cat and been taught about the values of destruction and just being able to Go Off on people, or how to spin her bad luck into something good (or the black cat miraculous in general helps her channel her bad luck, such as making her Cataclysm stronger or being able to give her bad luck to others).

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: The show ends with Marinette and Adrien getting together, with Marinette declaring that everything she went through was worth it and that she's 'incredibly lucky' -- that the fact fate brought them together is 'nothing short of Miraculous!'

The sheer level at which I just cringed in immeasurable.

Anonymous said:

Didn't need the Burrow: A S5 episode will drop before S4 is finished.

Oh! Ahaha, we’ve got a wavelength, anon! I actually already added that one at some point.

Anonymous said:

Didn't need the Burrow: The series will not really make Rose/Juleka canon. They will imply it but the official language used in the episode will be "best friends". Yet on Twitter the creators will pat themselves on the back repeatedly for it

I mean, this already partially happened in “Reflekdoll” so--

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: It'll be confirmed beyond any reasonable doubt that Adrien 100% knows about Marinette's crush when he uses it to manipulate her. Plagg comments on it, and Adrien affirms that he knows, but her feelings don't compare to his own for Ladybug. ('And aren't worth sparing' goes unsaid, but is naturally implied.) Naturally, his manipulation of her is treated as 'clever', and any pain or mortification she feels as a result is just gravy.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Adrien reveals to Plagg (and the audience) that he's fully aware of Marinette's crush, but refuses to acknowledge it because he doesn't want to 'crush her dreams', comparing it to how Ladybug keeps rejecting him. Making the situation entirely about HIM and how HE feels, even showing some resentment towards her for HAVING that crush for HIM to deal with. Marinette and her feelings are painted as just an ANNOYANCE that he's ignoring, heedless of the impact upon her.

wow i hate them both

thank you, both of you

</3

#category: salt #Didn't Need Burrow

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benisasoftboi · 4 years

Text

Unorganised thoughts on Trails of Cold Steel III:

...I’m gonna need like a week to process that

I guess I know why people hate George now!

Could really use a good old reset from KeA right now

This is the best game in the Cold Steel series so far. Easily

I... there’s no way they’re all really dead, right? This series has been completely toothless about killing anyone who isn’t a villain until now, no way they’re permanently killing someone who’s been here since practically day 1, no way. Show me a body

And even then I’ll doubt it with all these revivals happening all over the place

‘He’s HIDING’ I sob as I apply clown make-up

Ben Diskin did not need to go so hard on the voice acting at Millium’s death he did not need to do that to me

My god when Angie drove into the graveyard and my PS4 popped up a little notification telling me it was a blocked scene, the tension in me... and I never saw that coming, I’ll have to see if it was foreshadowed at all by replaying CS1 and 2 some time

I saw Lughman being a baddie a mile away (a mysterious professor turning out to be evil in a Trails game? UNPRECEDENTED!) but he’s Alisa’s dad!?

Neat writing trick actually, since they probably knew we’d guess the former, they blindside us with the latter

I can’t express how happy it made me that the Rufus battle was Machias Jusis Elliot. My dream team!

Estelle and Joshua got mentioned so much I figured they’d make a surprise appearance at the end and save the day

So. Characters:

Rean: Rean is once again moderately more interesting than he was before, but still the least interesting person in the game. I guess he’s got some guilt that’s actually justified now, that’s cool?

I ship him with Crow, not because the pairing really appeals to me that much, but because being shipped with Crow would totally piss Rean off and I find that extremely funny

His relationship with Altina is the best relationship he’s ever had with a female character and it is 100% because she’s the only girl he’s never ship teased with

(I don’t have an issue with the concept of ship tease itself, I have an issue with Rean-ship tease because 1. I still truly do not understand why so many girls like him so much and 2. None of it will ever canonically go anywhere)

(Seriously I’m so tempted to write a breakdown of why every other guy in Erebonia is more desirable than Rean)

Juna: I like Juna. I realised early on that she and Kurt remind me of Estelle and Joshua, without being carbon copies, and that’s good. I also think her relationship with Rean was really interesting - ‘I don’t know how to feel about you because you saved my life, but it also wouldn’t have needed saving if it weren’t for your country’s actions, which you’ve played a major role in - but now I’m being forced to confront that you’re a human being too’ is a really complicated situation for her. It’s a lot more interesting than ‘I don’t like you because you accidentally got a face full of chest’, Alisa

I also really liked using her, I ended up loading her with the Platinum Pecky Medal and defensive stuff, and she was a wall, she took an S-craft from Arianrhod in her stride! My buff girl!

She should’ve just been the new protagonist ngl

Kurt: Kurt had a lot to live up to, seeing as his brother is my favourite minor character. And oh does he succeed, Kurt is my favourite of New VII, he’s a good straight man, he’s great in battle, I like his arc, I like his friendship with Juna, I like Kurt

Altina: I was not sure about Altina just... being a student now. But damn if she didn’t have the best character arc in the game. I only did her final bonding event on a whim, but it’s the best one I saw. My girl Allie deserves the damn world

I really, truly believe those three have a bond as well, they’re very well written as a group. This was a problem I had with Old VII, the fact that so many of them just... didn’t have relationships with each other. How do, say, Fie and Machias feel about each other? I have no idea. But this group has a fantastic dynamic and it makes that ending so much more effective

It’s like I praised Crossbell for, really - having a small core group is much more manageable in terms of giving them all equal screen time and getting me to care about them

Musse: Uh, kind of one-note and annoying, honestly. I don’t hate her or anything, but like... she’s either Being Mysterious or Hitting On Her Teacher (I hate it I hate it so much). It’s just hard to care about someone who’s clearly so fake, I guess? I’m definitely interested in her, but like... I don’t really like her

Ash: Poor boy. I thought Ash was such an interesting character (and man do I love having someone around who does not like Rean, and never really changes his mind about it). Ash is very well done imo

Alisa: Alisa is good when the issue is her family drama, and is so goddamn boring when it comes to Rean. Nothing new there

Elliot: I love his little ponytail I love it he’s so cute I want to hug him so bad

Laura: Winner of the ‘best new outfit’ award (was never that fond of her war outfit, but this one is perfect). Still good, but not notably so. I feel so bad for Laura, she tries so hard to matter, but she’s by far the character you’d have the easiest time lifting out of the game

And while I love Elliot... same situation really. You could go back to the start and have one character named Elliaura who likes swords and music and has two big-shot dads, and you wouldn’t lose much

Machias: Took down Rufus, yeah, destroy your best friend (boyfriend)’s evil family! Winner of the ‘worst new outfit’ award, AGAIN. Also winner of ‘dorkiest S-craft’. I did his final bonding event first, and according to Playstation trophies it’s the least popular one! Stop sleeping on my boy Machias guys, I know he was annoying in the first game but I love him :(

Gaius: Special award to Gaius for finally being interesting! Boy’s a Gralsritter now, did not see that coming!

And of course it happened off screen. Because god forbid interesting stuff happen to Gaius when we’re actually around

Oh also goddamn, that is a beautiful man

Emma: Don’t really like the new outfit. It’s kind of remarkable that she’s so important but I keep forgetting she exists. Exposition witch who sometimes just doesn’t deliver the exposition I guess

Fie: Still my fav girl. Wish there had been more focus on her feelings about her dad coming back to life. Like that she’s a bracer

Jusis: Wasn’t sure how to feel about his newly close friendship with Millium because I was concerned that I was meant to ship it (by far my least favourite thing about this franchise is that that was not an unreasonable concern, as it wouldn’t even be the most inappropriate relationship in this game alone). Very, very glad it was confirmed sibling-y (not that it’s stopped them before). He didn’t really get to do anything else, sadly, but he’s good as always

I did the Purebread contest with him, and he made bread from coffee beans Machias gave him, the Ferdibert Fire Emblem energy-

“What are you doing underneath this scarlet Pleroma Grass?”

Milliam: :(

Sara: Doesn’t get much to do because this cast is bloated but like, I still really like her :)

Towa: Someone needs to check on Towa all her friends are dead or evil the poor poor girl (or uh. I guess Crow isn’t... hmm.)

Angie :(

My kids Tita and Agate are back and completely overshadowed by people teasing this almost 30-year old man about being in love with a 17 year old that he’s only ever claimed to see as a sister, I swear to god

The orbal gear looks so goofy lol

Stop mentioning Schera as just being ‘totally here, just off screen, ha ha’ give her a model! Have her be here!

Don’t get me wrong, I loved seeing Josette again, I just don’t get... why? Why is she here?

Tio is back! And so is Randy, as a major character! I’m very very happy, I love them both

Michael’s fine, I guess? He’s kind of bland but I guess that’s kind of the point and I like him just fine. He serves his purpose well

I’ve never really liked Claire all that much, but she’s fine in this one again I suppose. A bit disappointed by the Lechter reveals really, I had expected more, to be honest

Aurelia is a fun character and I enjoy her as the principal. Want to see her fight Cassius

Want to see Cassius

I love my girl Annabelle, but she’s the only reason I didn’t get all the character profiles (how was I meant to know I could even go to the highway at that point hmmm Falcom!?)

They picked a good selection of returning Thors students. Even Dorothee isn’t as annoying as she used to be. Hilarious that she’s the only one who didn’t get a profile

Juna gave a great big speech about how awesome the SSS are and namedrops everyone EXCEPT WAZY! My FAVOURITE Crossbell character! So offensive!

Oh speaking of offensive I took Machias to the Mishy show and was told he and Rean did a Mishy dance but they didn’t show it, what the hell-

Playable Olivier! Olivier back story! I could write a goddamn essay on why Olivier is such a great character. Glaring at you Falcom

I miss Mueller :(

Ada Grant is wonderful and I want better things for her

Rufus is a damn great villain just because of how much sense his actions suddenly make when you know that one little detail of him not actually being Jusis’s brother

I hate Cedric but like, in a way where I’m having fun hating him. That little bitch

Literally what do you even actually want Osbourne

I still cannot stand Elise. Something I realised playing this game is that one of the things that stops the Estelle and Joshua relationship from being as weird as it could be is that they don’t look at all alike, it’s very clear they’re not related in the slightest. Elise and Rean look like they really could be siblings, and come to think, so do Lloyd and Cecile. Which is also teased, to a lesser extent. It would be so much less uncomfortable if they just swapped Elise and Alfin’s models ngl (though still not good)

inb4 the final plot twist of the whole series is that Estelle and Joshua actually were biological siblings all along

This game looks so much better than its predecessors. Having the models being a little rounder and softer looking makes it look much more like an updated version of the original style than the complete departure that was CS1 and 2. Every time there was a flashback, Rean would be like ‘back then...’ and I’d feel compelled to say out loud ‘when we were shiny, and looked bad!’

‘Evil ancient magic corrupts people into making them do bad things!’ is... honestly a bit of a cop out that I did not expect from this series

I found Rean telling Patrick ‘leave room for Aidios when dancing with my sister’ extremely funny. Rean would totally be a Christian summer camp counsellor in the real world

I honestly would have enjoyed it a lot more if Alfin decided to cause a scandal and have her first dance with Elise, but we can’t have such luxuries I suppose

When you get that book on dystopias, very clever to put the author on the last page. Seeing the name Gideon gave me such a start

Racquel was easily my fav new location

Leeves > Trista no doubt, maybe I’m just biased because it looks a lot like the village I grew up in but it’s just such a nicer design

Also the branch campus > main campus purely for being smaller, making the filler segments between field trips more bearable

I prefer the longer but fewer chapters set-up, I think

There’s so many sad faces in this write up :(

Back when I played Sky SC, I said something about how one of the themes is ‘you are not defined by your trauma’. I now think it would be more accurate to say that the theme of all the games (but especially the Sky arc) is ‘don’t let your worst experiences define you’

Because there are characters who define themselves by their traumas and worst experiences - and those characters are all villains, or miserable, or both. Like, they don’t phrase it as such, but the requirement to be an Ouroboros enforcer is ‘have trauma and define yourself by it’

And both Joshua and Renne’s arcs are about learning not to do that

Equally, the idea that ‘it’s much easier to not to define yourself by your trauma when you have a good support system that wants the best for you’ is a big theme as well

I just think that’s a really interesting idea for a JRPG series to tackle, idk

I can’t believe I’m at the last game! This series has been my life for the past near-half a year, what do I do when I finish it?

...go back and play Sky FC, maybe?

#trails of cold steel 3 #trails of cold steel #trails series #kiseki series #erebonia arc

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notgonnarememberthis · 4 years

Text

Twenty-Nine

This is quite a departure from what I usually write but I love this family so much that I had to do a little hurt/comfort fic. That and this idea of a survivor’s guilt when it comes to those around serial killers is golden angst material and it was just begging to be written. Hope y’all enjoy

In retrospect of everything that’s happened, Jessica believes she’s kept herself impressively together. She has handled the paparazzi clamoring at every door she’s behind, the concerned looks from her friends, and the judgemental looks from her social circle.

The news hit nationwide last night, “The Surgeon’s Six Undiscovered Victims”, a press release that took her world, yet again, by storm. Every moment she finds peace she’s thrown into the vortex by no other than her ex-husband. Of course he had to reveal in a live interview that he had six lost victims, of course it had to bragging at the police that they never knew, of course it would send Malcolm into a guilt ridden spiral until he knew every single name.

All of this for an unsubstantiated claim of a clinical narcissist who fell out of the limelight when all of Nicholas Endicott’s shady business came uncovered. God forbid the Whitly’s not be in a headline for a while.

However, she’s kept herself busy. She dodges the questions with ease, laughing them off as what they were, bullshit. Rather she throws herself into her most recent charity project, absolutely determined to have an event go off without a hitch. Her work has kept her busy enough to have an excuse not to watch the news and if she didn’t have that she would check up on Gil and make sure he wasn’t throwing himself into work too soon.

“Mother!” She jumps at Malcolm’s voice glancing up from her papers. He stands by Ainsley in the doorway, both looking worriedly at her.

“Sorry. I was a little focused.” She gets up from her spot at the table hugging Ainsley first, then Malcolm. “You both look exhausted, Edith get us some coffee would you?” While the statement is mostly true, it’s a rather selfish request. Sleep has been creeping in on her for the past half hour but there’s too much to do before next weekend.

“I’m good, thanks.” Ainsley’s smile is forced. Her eyebrows furrow together studying her daughter’s face for a moment. Her smile, even the fake one, normally comes with such practiced ease that it’s hard to spot when she’s faking it for appearances. This is cardboard though, one that’s too exhausted to sell the image.

“We didn’t come for coffee.” Malcolm frowns, she nods to Edith dismissing her. The woman leaves allowing them to have their talk in private.

“Don’t tell me you came to talk about the news. You know your father is a clinical narcissist and with Endicott’s empire crumbling he’s not in the one anyone is talking about. He’s desperate. We just need to-”

“We found the six bodies.” He cuts her off stopping her in her tracks. “I visited Dad and he told me where they were buried. I went with Dani and JT. What he said is true.” The information feels like a punch to the chest.

“We don’t know that it was him,” she tries desperately at denial yet again. “He could have mentored another serial killer for all we know.”

“He gave us enough detail to ID all the women and how they died.” She runs her hands through her hair desperate for something to hold onto. “We wanted you to hear it from us first.”

“No doubt it will be on the news before the end of the night.” Ainsley adds bitterly. She notices the angry look exchanged between the two, with her ambition she has little doubt that Ainsley wanted to be the one to break the story but it was Malcolm who insisted they talk first. She’ll never fault her daughter for her ambition though, it truly is her best quality.

The two rock on their feet. Years of practice as a mother has taught her one thing and that it’s never a good thing. They’re holding something back, trying to will the other to talk about it first. Normally it would be about a priceless vase they broke in their careless playing or sneaking out past their curfews. God she misses when it was that simple. “What?”

“Ains,” Malcolm swallows heavily, it’s a nickname he only uses under a vulnerable state. She braces herself as Ainsley pulls a manilla folder out of her purse and hands it to her.

“What’s this?” Neither answer, rather their eyes look anywhere but at her both trying their best to stay put together.

“We wanted you to know before you saw it on TV.” She opens the folder finding the face of a much younger woman smiling back at her. The photo is faded and yellowed but her features were indistinguishable. Wavy brown hair spills over her shoulders, blue eyes sparkling back at the camera. Even her posture gave away everything she needed to know. The woman looks like her.

“Who is this?” The emotion thick in her voice nearly shatters everything she’s kept so tightly together in the past few months. She’ll be damned if she lets it go now.

Ainsley straightens, taking a breath and in her best reporter tone lays out the details, “Her name is… was Erica Watson. She went missing the summer of 1985.”

“The year I met your father.” She slumps against the table, exhaustion weighing heavily on her shoulders. “She was meant to be a stand in for me, wasn’t she?”

Neither answer but that’s enough to confirm her worst suspicions. For years she’d had those lingering thoughts in the back of her head. That he’d never killed her. That for whatever fucking reason that in his twisted mind she was special. Clearly special enough to kill a supplement of her.

Disgust fills her mouth, a bitter laugh creeping out untethered from her control. “Fuck.” The questions will become unrelenting. She turns her back not wanting either of them to see the tears building up in her eyes. She hears Ainsley sniff and she feels horribly. How must they feel, finding out that their father wanted to kill their mother? But with the hot tears rolling down her cheeks out of her control she can’t bring herself to turn back to them. She wants Gil, he’d know what to do, he’d know what to say in all of this madness but he’s confined to a damn hospital bed.

She throws her glass at the wall in a last fit of anger before the sobs take over. She weeps for the poor girl who died because of her. For the family who went thirty-five years without knowing what had happened to their daughter. God she couldn’t have been more than twenty-three.

She feels the impact of a body hitting her in the back, arms wrapping almost hesitant around her middle. Ainsley’s hair tickles her arms as she presses her forehead against the back of her shoulders. She pushes the arms away and she can feel the disappointment radiating from her daughter. Instead she turns, quickly pulling her back into a tight embrace. She strokes the blonde hair back as she looks over her shoulder at Malcolm. He stands so tightly wound, as if a single move will break everything. Yet his eyes always give away all, he’s just so scared.

She reaches out an arm to him and he crashes into the hug all the same, his arms wrapping easily around the both of them. Holding them to her makes it easier to breathe, the past doesn’t matter so long as they’re safe and close to her. She will make plans to contact the families of the six killed, she’ll pay for funerals and burials all the same. They deserve that closure, after all.

But for now she’s content in holding her own family close, as they hold the broken pieces of her together.

#prodigal son #prodigal son spoilers #kinda #jessica whitly #malcolm bright #ainsley whitly #timeline #what timeline #we dont know her

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ask-joyce-byers · 5 years

Note

#40 please!

1962 | 1967

{45 OTP Prompts: “I want a baby.”, and Drabble Prompt List: “I’m pregnant.”}

Christmas, 1962

The everlasting mismanagement of the NYPD meant that half of the deputies promised off on Christmas day had to work after all, and those who had volunteered to walk their beat despite the snowfall and the forfeit comfort and joy got sent home early to spend time with their families. As it was, Jim Hopper received no especial privileges despite his having requested off to spend the day with his wife. You don’t have kids, was the consensus. The deputies with kids got preference to go home and see their progeny, whereas if you had decided not to reproduce or were just otherwise unlucky, you got to work same as any other day. Nevermind the fact that Hutchinson got sent home, and he and his old lady were far beyond the kid-having age. Andrews and Williard too, both of them empty-nesters.

“Damn unfair,” Hopper muttered to himself, stamping through the snow that night, frozen to the bone, icicles having formed in the ends of his hair, stabbing him in the back of the neck and making his eyebrows so he could see them if he looked sharply up. “Diane? I’m home.”

"Merry Christmas, baby,” Diane beamed, a vision in her bright red sweater, blonde hair curled in loose waves, bangs full and just shading her blushing face. The warmth of the apartment’s interior hit him like a heavy quilt, and he let out a long breath, reaching for her and pulling her into a hug against his snowy coat despite her squeal and helpless attempts to swat him away.

“You’ll get me wet! This is cashmere!”

“Cashmere? Really…” He ogled, hands finding her waist, smoothing there as she pecked him on the cheek and twisted away.

“Food first. Then presents, then -”

“Sleep,” Hopper groaned, and Diane pursed her lips.

“If you say so.”

“Unless you had other ideas.” His level of alertness was immediately heightened.

“Food first,” she reiterated, all but dragging him into the kitchen where a modest, but fragrant ham sat, resplendent in its roaster, bordered in seasoned potatoes and bright greens. “And for dessert-” She gestured to the oven and he bent, cracking open the door to reveal a good deal of indistinguishable shadow and the unmistakable scent of apple pie.

“You’re an angel,” Hopper proclaimed, hugging her to him again, and this time she let him as he pressed a resounding kiss to her rosy lips and dragged a freezing hand through her soft hair. “Lemme go get cleaned up.”

“Please,” Diane grinned, and while he rummaged and recuperated, splashed and stomped, she arranged the presents on the small kitchen table, crowned with the bright Christmas tablecloth and overhung with fake evergreen swags. Little things, they weren’t living on big money here, but he was home from overseas, they had their own place, and it was time to start enjoying the little things in life. One present in particular, very light and thin, she placed in the forefront.

Supper enjoyed, one and two word answers to her questions sufficing to explain that the food was too good for conversation, Diane slowly inched the envelope towards him.

“Open this one first.”

“Why don’t you open one of mine? The little square one.” A bracelet, something he’d picked out with help from Mrs. Hutchinson, as he had about as much idea what to get a lady as a grizzly bear knew how to pitch a tent. He was keen to see if he’d hit the mark.

“Open mine first. You’ll like it.”

“Will I?” Tearing into the envelope with impish impetuosity, he pulled out a simple card made of folded stock paper, drawn all over in different colored ink and the curly message OPEN ME. Lifting a brow, Hopper did so and saw, in stark contrast to the elaborate outer portion of the card, the inside was blank save for one, short sentence.

I want a baby.

Blue eyes looked up at Diane, and then back to the card, and then back to Diane, the muscles in his jaw working as he strove to work out an appropriate answer.

Yes. Yes. Right now.

“You want a baby,” was all he managed to echo, voice sounding strange even to his own ears. “You don’t wanna wait another year -”

“Way I see it, we’ve done enough waiting.” Nam. It hadn’t seemed like waiting to him, it had been war, it had been hell, but back home, to Diane it had to have seemed like decades.

“You, ah….” He licked his lips, meeting her gaze at last. “You wanna start workin’ on that now?”

“You don’t want to finish presents first?”

“They get better than this?”

He stood, leaning across the table to capture her lips. The way she slowed into the kiss, her breath catching, fluttering against his skin, his hand going up to cup her cheek, and suddenly the fact that her sweater was cashmere didn’t matter at all, he just wanted it off. On the table, in the floor, anywhere not on her.

A baby. With blue eyes and blonde hair, just like Diane, perfect in every way.

Come September, he was reminding her of that, telling her his dream, their dream as he drove her to the hospital, her breath fast and ragged, forehead beaded with sweat, clenching his hand in a vice-like grip.

“Some Christmas present, huh,” he made the mistake of commenting, turning to her with a forced smile, and she tore her hand away at that.

“Just drive, James.”

James. Ah, he was in trouble, then. She never used his real name unless she was upset at him, or on other very, very special occasions. One like the one that had tears starting to his eyes some hours later as the nurses placed a very small bundle of pink blanket into his arms, tiny breaths shuddering her little body against him, eyes murky and blinking, looking into his own.

“Hey, little one,” he managed, voice hoarse. “Hey, baby girl. What’re you lookin’ at, huh. Big scary man? I’m your dad, little one. Your dad.”

“She’s beautiful, James,” Diane breathed, and reached for him, taking his hand, a faint smile tugging her lips. “Some Christmas present.”

__________________________________

January, 1967

Joyce pressed her eyes shut at the approach of footsteps outside the bathroom and steeled herself for the verbal onslaught. You’re taking fucking forever, what kind of issue do you have, locking yourself in there for hours at a time, hogging the entire goddamn bathroom because god forbid anyone else in this house have to take a piss while you’re in there doing your hair or whatever shit -

“Almost finished,” she called, not waiting this time, hearing his impatient breath on the other side of the door. “You should just go without me.”

“You’re coming with me. I’m meeting a potential agent, and I don’t wanna look like a fool who couldn’t get his wife to go and be social.”

“What kinda agent is this now?” Joyce managed, voice thin, fighting off another wave of nausea and hardly daring to look at the typed report on the counter, courtesy of the doctor’s office in Larrabee. If only there was some simple way of doing the same tests they did there from home, of checking this yourself, then one could avoid the embarrassment, the exertion, the expense…

She’d demanded a copy of the lab report anyway, and irritated, the girl with red nails had typed it up for her and yanked it from the typewriter. It was only because Joyce had proudly gotten an A in biology that she even knew the significance of hGC at all. Why the x-ed out upper-case H irritated her so much before the proper typing of the lab result was something that even good grades could not explain.

“Joyce.” The doorknob rattled and she grit her teeth against the jolt it gave her pulse. She’d locked it; short of forcing the door, he wasn’t coming in, though that had happened before. “Hurry the fuck up. What in the hell is taking -”

“Lonnie, I’m sick. I don’t wanna go.”

“Did you go to the doctor?”

“Yes.”

“What’d they say?”

“That I’m sick.”

More muttered curses. “Of course they did. Tryin’ to get money from you, they’re never gonna turn someone away and say you’re fine now, are they. Use your head, Joyce. You’ve been sick for days, I’m done with your damn excuses.”

“Lonnie.” Joyce steeled herself, eyes pressed shut from her seat on the edge of the tub. “Go to your meeting. I’ll see you later.”

“And leave you to sleep or watch TV while I work to get the pro-ball career that I’ve been after for years? No, you’re comin’. If I have to do this, so do you.” As if she didn’t spend entire weeks working at Melvald’s and coming home to an empty house, cooking actual food every night anyway on the off chance he should come home from whatever dive bar he was in this time, networking and schmoozing, all so he could have the pro-ball career he insisted was still coming to him. As if anyone else paid the bills to this house, as if he’d ever done a single thing for her other than order her around and wear her on his arm like some kind of gaudy watch.

The last jibe had her on her feet, steadying herself and yanking open the door, letting the full effect of her appearance sink in. Dark hair tumbled, face paler than a ghost, she simply stood there and met his eye for a long moment, before thrusting the typed paper towards him. Brow lowering, he grappled it and fumbled it open, peering in the shadow of the corridor before pushing past her into the bathroom to use the light of the high-set window.

“The hell is this?”

“My report from the doctor.”

“Did you get an A,” he jeered, and Joyce didn’t even bother responding, waiting for him to peruse the typed lines and thrust it back at her. “What’s that supposed to mean anyway. You dying? You have cancer?” Is it gonna be expensive, she could all but hear the unspoken accusation.

“There.” She poked the corrected hGH line, the reading stating simply P. Positive.

“Okay?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Lonnie’s response was immediate, a muttered curse, a long scrutinizing look toward her midsection, and then an accusatory stare at the paper. As if he didn’t trust it.

“And how’s that supposed to prove anything?”

“It’s a hormone,” Joyce explained wearily. “You either have it in your blood or you don’t, and I did.”

“And that means you’re pregnant.”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit, Lonnie, that’s how it works. I’ve been throwing up, feeling awful -”

“This is it, then.” He flung the paper to the bathroom counter. “The gig’s up. How’d this happen?”

She didn’t even bother asking what he meant by the gig being up, he meant, however he decided to express it, that he had to face responsibility now. To at least be present, if not contribute. Somehow she doubted that was gonna happen.

“I figure it happened one of those times you came home drunk,” Joyce drawled and Lonnie fixed her with a warning glare.

“You’re blamin’ this on me?”

“You’re the one running the show when that kind of thing happens, so yeah, I’m blaming it on you.”

The sound of a resounding slap, skin on skin echoed through the hollow of the bathroom, and in the mirror, Joyce saw her own cheek flare red.

“This is your deal,” Lonnie threatened, voice low. “You deal with this, and it better not put you out of a job. That’s all we got until I can land this gig, and this better not derail the whole fucking plan.”

“’S not gonna derail anything,” Joyce mumbled, and her hand, instead of going to her cheek, went to her middle. As if by his blow he’d insulted not her, but one innocent in all of this. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

“You better. Lay down, I guess.” The nicety flung over the shoulder was all she got as he made for the front door and grabbed his coat. “I’ll make some kind of excuse for you.”

“Thanks,” Joyce muttered, her voice barely audible as she made her way gingerly to the couch and curled up there.

“And Joyce?” His voice, calling back through the cold air of the open door had her lift her head. “If it’s a boy he’s gonna learn to play ball.”

Then the door slammed, and she was left in quiet. Some say that when you bring a kid into a marriage, it can serve as a saving grace in the eleventh hour, bringing couples back together again. But in that moment Joyce Byers was never more sure – that one day, as soon as she could save up enough money, pay off the house herself and get it transferred to her name – one day, this was going to be her home, her life. Hers, and the tiny life inside her. And if he didn’t want to play baseball, she wasn’t going to make him play goddamn baseball.

#joyce byers #ask joyce byers #jopper #drabble #fic #fanfic #ask #rp #stranger things #jim hopper #sara hopper #jonathan byers #lonnie byers

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oh-styles · 6 years

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Such Beautiful Things: River

As of December 22, 2018 4:37 AM, miss River Caroline Styles has entered the building. Thank you for enjoying this ride with me, and I hope you enjoy this!

“Oh, cry me a river.”

And that’s where it started; the two-syllable, single word that planted itself a comfortable spot in Harry’s brain, and would for the next two weeks eat away at him like some parasite gnawing on the very concern that had left him awake nearly every night for the last 37 days.

A name.

No person can go without one, and yet, his unborn child who is currently finishing up her last weeks cozied up inside of her mother is still left without one, and nothing was bothering Harry more.

He found you sat on the sofa with your feet hanging off the armrest, the fuzzy socks he bought you the winter before pulled up over your sweatpants, with a bowl of grapes resting firmly on your ever-growing stomach.

He clutches a thick book in his hand, hundreds of names within its pages highlighted and saved, etched into his memory, and as he watches you lay on the sofa watching My Own Personal Idaho for the fourth time that week, he merely scoffs.

“This is crucial—vital, extremely vital information. It’s our child’s name. The first thing that identifies her. Don’t want her to walk around with a Kardashian name like Treasure.”

“Treasure Styles has a ring to it though, don’t you think?” You smirk up at him.

“I don’t need your sass, missy.” He holds up the book, small post-it notes sticking out of the pages indicating his favorites, and he gently sets it down by your side. “Just take a look, will you? We’re running out of time. M’mum is even texting me everyday asking if we decided yet.”

“Well, tell my favorite future mother-in-law that her very pregnant future daughter-in-law has cankles and hemorrhoids, so she’s already got a lot on her plate right now.”

But what Harry doesn’t know is that a name has been circulating around in his girlfriends head for some months now, but some lingering doubt has left her silent on the topic, but tonight, once you fall asleep, she sneaks back downstairs to skim through The Complete Book of Baby Names, and in it does she highlight one herself.

“H, I think we have peaked our romance game.” You tipped your head back up and blew a stray hair from your vision, watching amused through the reflection of your bathroom mirror as the boy stood behind you fiddling with the cap to your ointment. “I really don’t think it can get any stronger than this.”

“I just ask one thing of you, love… Please don’t fart.”

To be fair, you tried on your own, but simple tasks become ten times harder when you have a bump the size of a pumpkin laid between your legs, and Harry didn’t mind; he reassured of that. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been up, close and personal with your bum, love, so please…take off your pants and bend over.”

And there you guys were; you stood bent over the bathroom sink with your pants down by your ankles with your boyfriend rummaging his finger in your backside. It wasn’t how you saw your day span out, but, like he said, it’s not the first time he’s rimmed your ass.

“Is this how prostate exams go? Do I need to cough?”

“Wrong exam, babe.”

“I’m quite hungry—can we order takeout?”

“Can’t say I’m all that hungry right now…”

“Okay, well when you’re done creaming my butthole, can you order some chips? With gravy, light salt…oh god… I can’t tell if I’m getting turned on from the thought of food or your finger on my a—”

“I’m done.”

You didn’t want to spend Christmas in the hospital. In a perfect world, you would be sat in front of a warm fire, in the coziest pajamas, with your baby girl bundled in your arms as Harry handfed you bonbons. And nothing was going to come between you and that fantasy.

It was the day after he returned from LA when it all began. Your due date was in six days, which meant the two of you had less than a week to get a jumpstart on labor. For breakfast, lunch and dinner – and the meals in between – it was nothing but leftover curry and red raspberry leaf tea. You trusted the internet, and despite the heartburn and indigestion you felt, if it meant you could get your baby girl out of your vagina by Sunday, then so be it.

It was a rough estimate, but around six times a day the two of you would engage in a form of intercourse; you read online that orgasms and nipple stimulation could help induce labor, and even if it didn’t, Harry was more than happy to oblige.

If he wasn’t licking into your cunt, a hand twisting and rubbing over your erect nipple, the two of you laid on your sides as he fucked into you until his balls had nothing much more to give…and then he would go back to sucking at your breasts.

“Am I latched on good?”

“Shut the fuck up, Styles.”

The two of you went on plenty of walks around the block, and even tried your hand at acupuncture. Despite feeling a little less pain in your back, you two went to bed that Tuesday night with the bassinet set beside your shared bed laid empty.

“Excuse me, little miss,” Harry pecked a kiss to your stomach, nosing the skin gently. “Y’mum and I are getting really impatient, and would like to hold you on Christmas day… So how about you shimmy out of your mumma now, huh?”

That earned him a swift kick, but nothing more.

“I’m telling yeh, love… She’s as stubborn as you.”

“Hey!”

“She’s staying in there on purpose… Knows how much we want her out.”

“Or maybe she’s trying to prepare herself for the ample number of kisses she’ll be getting from her dad.”

Dad.

You know how when you say a word so many times it begins to not sound like much of anything anymore? Like a foreign, unfamiliar remark that despite the common knowledge, your brain is left tumbling over any similarities that it can pinpoint to find some hidden significance.

Approximately, Harry has muttered that simple, single-syllable word to himself nearly four thousand times over the course of six months, leading you up to this very week. Since the moment the two of you found out your duo was becoming a trio at the end of the year, Harry hasn’t been able to get the word wrapped around his mind.

He knows who he is. He’s Harry. He’s the musician, the actor, the Gucci model, the boyfriend, and now…the father. Before any of that, he is the father; the caregiver and protector over a human child, a human child that is solely his.

When he wrote the song If I Could Fly three years before, he was in a different mindset, a child being the last thing on his mind, but now he can’t even perform it without it being an unknown ode to his unborn child. And maybe that’s why he loves that song just a little bit more now.

He sees you in a different light now; once being the woman he only dreamed of loving when he was merely a child himself, and now the mother of his own. Dreams really do come true.

You’ve become something of a homebody as of late; not partaking in quiet date nights like you once did, and now your boyfriend has hitched a ride as a third wheel train to concerts with Sarah and Mitch. He doesn’t mind; he even decided to stay home with you while you watch reruns of The Office, but you begged him to go out and have some fun.

“Harold, please. I beg of you. Go out and enjoy yourself while you can, because when this baby comes, you’ll only ever leave the house to fetch diapers.”

He knows you’re right…to an extent. He also knows you are happy relaxing in the comfort of your own home, especially since you are due in exactly a week. Your rapidly growing stomach has become much of an excuse to stay home while you rest your swollen feet.

“Don’t feel bad leaving me here, please. Me and Roro are enjoying ourselves… I’m not sure where Evie is, but she is enjoying herself too.” Harry isn’t completely satisfied, and even requests that the two of you can hang out backstage away from any crowds, but you simply shake your head. “If you see Paul, tell him your very pregnant girlfriend wishes she could be there, but she has a date with Ben & Jerry.”

Maybe if he was carrying around a 39-week-old fetus, he would understand.

“Okay,” he nods in defeat. “If you need anything, just call me, okay? If your water breaks—god forbid, if your water breaks—”

“I’ll call you… Harry, seriously. I’m okay. I’m resting on doctors’ orders. I’m being the laziest couch potato as I can be. Go have fun, and tell Sarah and Mitch I love them and miss them.”

And that’s what Harry did. Despite being requested to go out and enjoy himself, guilt filled his gut for the entirety of the night. Maybe he should have cancelled and stayed in with you. Maybe he should have cancelled his latest LA trip to stay at home with you instead of Gemma. Maybe he should have put his career on hold for the last few weeks of your pregnancy instead of leaving you by yourself at home with a cat and a dog as companions.

No matter the guilt, you will always tell him it’s okay. You were showing no signs of early labor, and despite him being away, he would be back before your due date anyway.

When he went and saw Bring Me The Horizon, he checked his phone every twenty minutes in case he missed a text from you. When he went back to LA to work on the album, he lost count of how many times he sent you a quick, “You feeling okay, pet?” text. He was a little more distracted at Fleetwood Mac, but it didn’t stop him from at least checking up on you once or twice.

But it was as he was preparing to leave the venue, that a text blared from his pocket, sending his heart soaring through the roof.

Don’t freak out, it doesn’t mean I’m in labor, but my stomach has totally dropped. She’s just getting herself ready… but please, don’t panic. I know you.

But panic he did.

His initial plan was to be in LA for one more day, but without a coherent thought, he booked a flight for the next day to be home with you exactly one week before your due date.

“It says online that the stomach can drop a few weeks to hours before labor, babe. Hours.”

“And yet I haven’t made a mess of myself, have I?”

Touché. *

It was on Thursday when you felt the first one; that sharp sting that sent you lurching forward to grasp onto the kitchen counter, and before you could recognize it, it was already over. You waited there, too afraid to move, waiting for the next one to hit, but it ceased.

Harry was upstairs in the shower, so even if you were to call for him, the odds of him actually hearing you were slim. The stretch from the kitchen to the living room wasn’t far; you think you can make it before another one hits, until you hear familiar footsteps prodding down the stairs, beelining toward you.

“Tea sound good, love?”

“I felt it.”

Otherwise very vague, Harry felt his throat close and immediately dropped his eyes toward your feet.

“Water didn’t break… Just felt the pain. Think it was a contraction… Wasn’t like the ones before.” The ones before; those minute contractions that sent you to the hospital some months ago, just to be told they were nothing but normal, and far from the real thing. Though that didn’t settle you any, but you were just glad your daughter wasn’t going to be born at 20 weeks.

“How long ago?” His hand fell on your back, giving it soft rubs as you steadied your breathing.

“Maybe ten minutes ago? I don’t know. I was going to lay on the couch, but I was too scared to move.”

“Come ’ere.” Harry helps turn you around and slowly guides you to the sofa, where Roro sat waiting attentively. Even she knew something was happening. “Let me make you some tea, and we’ll just time them, okay?” No need to panic just yet.

And there you sat, waiting for the pain to crash into you with no warning, just like all the movies portrayed.

Once Harry returned with your tea and biscuits, you decided turning on a movie would help with the relentless waiting, so he scrolled through Netflix until he found Elf, and took a seat beside you.

“How long has it been?”

You give a quick glance to your phone. “Nearly 20 minutes.”

“Should I call m’mum?”

“No… Christ, Harry. It was one contraction; it’s not like my fucking wate—”

There it came again, a wave of pain that hit with no warning, like a tsunami, and you don’t even notice you’ve reached out to Harry until you feel his hand squeeze yours, and his other reaching toward is phone.

“I’m calling the doctor, okay? Twenty minutes apart, yeah?”

“They won’t…fuck. They won’t have me yet. Not this early.” Not when they aren’t strong enough you can talk through them, you remember this.

“So, we just wait?” He sounds defeated, like he’s been told he must wait until Christmas to open his presents. There was nothing in the world this boy wanted more than to meet his baby girl, and with every passing day, his patience grew thinner.

You glance back at your phone: 20 December 2018 9:10 AM

“They started at 8:50… Mark that down. So far every 20 minutes.”

You wondered what color eyes she would have; what kind of hair she would inherit; if she would grow up to follow in your shoes or find a different path. Maybe she would be a world renown surgeon, or an engineer for NASA, or be the next big Broadway director. Your thoughts were endless on what you thought the baby nestled inside you would end up doing in their life, but the only thing you were certain of what no matter what journey she took on, you knew you would be nothing but proud.

“Think she’ll be a doctor,” Harry inquired one night. “She’ll be the only thing they’ll talk about in medical journals. She’ll win a Nobel Prize, have a movie made about her—”

“Her own TV show about all of the lives she’s saved.”

“And then when she’s sixty, she’ll put out a rap album.”

“A Christmas rap album.”

Sometimes she would be an Alligator Wrestler, or a Cowgirl Space Princess, and other times she would become the most successful woman in music, beating every record put in front of her. Girls from all over the world would look up to her and know that they can be just as successful as her.

“She’ll run out of room to put her Grammy’s,” Harry snickered, gesturing down the hall where your Grammy’s sat.

“She’ll need a separate home just to put all of her awards.”

No matter the case, the two of you knew in your heart that your baby girl would do magnificent things in her life, and the two of you would be nothing short of proud.

No book or documentary would prepare you for this pain. With every aching, pulsating wave hitting you directly into your core, you can’t imagine things getting much worse than they already are. Nothing seemed to lighten them up either. A hot bath, a back massage, a long walk around the block only was temporary, and it wasn’t until you were stepping out of your bath and you felt the warm liquid splatter down at the tiles at your feet, that you knew there was no stopping things now.

“Y’sure you didn’t just wee yourself?”

“For fucks sake, Harry—I didn’t wee myself!”

You saw panic rise in his eyes, and despite him telling you regardless, you knew this is where it all began.

“Okay—okay, I’m going to call m’mum…and we’ll get you to the hospital—do you have your bag? Where’s your bag?”

You stepped awkwardly over the puddle, throwing down a towel to the ground to quickly clean up the mess. You listened as Harry ran around the bedroom, muttering to himself about not being prepared, though he had nine months to do so.

“Mum—hey, mum, uh, her water broke… No, she didn’t wee herself. Her water broke.” You wee yourself one time and never live it down. “We’re headed to the hospital now. Call Gem for me, yeah?”

And right as it was all beginning, you were quickly dressed in sweatpants and Harry’s slip-on Gucci loafers – you couldn’t find yours – the two of you whisked off into traffic.

21 December 2018 7:25 P.M.

“I fucking hate you,” You seethe, your nails digging into your pillow as Harry cautiously ran his fingers through your hair. “I’m never gonna fuck you again.”

If it wasn’t for his mother stood beside him, he might have ignored your comment, but he feels his face burn bright red, and just contently nods at your comment. “You’re right, babe. I’m sorry.”

“If you ever think about getting that thing near me again, I’m cutting it off.”

“I would too, babe. That’s okay.”

“I need that fucking epidural now.”

“I still think it’s too early, babe—”

“Are you the fucking doctor?”

He wants to make a comment about putting money in the swear jar, but he figures now isn’t the best of times.

“Love, how about you go find a nurse, and I’ll watch over her, okay?” If there was one person here who knew what you were going through, it was Anne, and that thought comforted you a little.

She handfed you ice chips, wiped your forehead down with a wet cloth, and even suggested you lay in a hot bath to soothe the pain, all of which you gratefully accepted.

It wasn’t until midnight that you were given the thumbs up for an epidural, which Harry beamed at you and said, “Looks like we’re having a baby today.”

22 December 2018 1:10 A.M.

You have never felt better. You feel like you could run a mile, or hand-deliver this baby yourself. Any inkling of pain has been replaced with complete and total ease. You feel like you can finally breathe again, and then you nearly started crying when you tried apologizing to Harry from the things you had said before.

“I’m surprised you didn’t make a swear jar joke.”

Gemma arrived not long after, finding her a spot in the corner of the room. You had told her that her brother nearly passed out when you got the epidural, and she only wishes she was there to witness it.

“He got all pale and the nurse told him to sit down,” you chuckle at the memory, taking a sip of your water. “Not sure why he was so freaked out—I was the one with the needle in her spine.”

“It’s a big needle, okay?”

“Just don’t look between my legs when I’m pushing, because that’ll for sure send you running out of the room.”

Harry wants to throw a snarky remark, but he watched the labor videos with you as well, so he knows it’s best for him to stay by your side.

“Anne, your son has the weakest stomach I’ve seen.”

“Should’ve seen him when he was a boy.”

You could only imagine the horror.

By the time 2 o’clock hit, you had nurses checking on you regularly. You were told you were completely effaced, and just nearly all the way dilated.

“I think she’ll be coming in the next couple hours,” the nurse beamed. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

Next couple of hours.

You watched Harry sink into the chair beside you at the words. For as long as he’s known, he’s had months to prepare, and finally the months have turned into just a couple hours, and it really dawns on him how close they really are to becoming actual, real parents.

22 December 2018 4:10 A.M

“Okay, sweetie, I need you to give me one big push, okay?”

Push after push, and you felt like you weren’t getting anywhere. Exhausted didn’t even begin to cover how you felt, and your confidence was nearly gone. Anne stood beside you, holding one of your legs and dabbing your forehead every so often.

She was closest you had to a mom these days, and it wasn’t until this very moment you realized how much you truly loved her.

“I know you’re tired, hun. You just want this to be over with, I know. But you have to be strong, okay? Every little push helps her get closer and closer, you just have to help her get her into the world. She needs her mummy’s help right now.”

You rested, taking a couple deep breaths before you pushed down as hard as you could, feeling the pressure grow deeper between your legs.

“I see hair!” The nurse exclaimed, looking up to meet your eyes. “Want to feel your baby girl, love?”

She reached her hand out, and hesitantly, you took it as she led you between your legs.

And that’s when for the first time you felt your baby girl.

“Hair! I feel her hair!” You burst into tears, looking back to Harry who, without a second thought, reached down himself. “That’s her!”

That was the girl the two of you have spent months talking to, dreaming of, and patiently waiting for. She was right there, and just minutes from being welcomed into the world.

“Okay, love, we need another push, okay?”

Everything after that felt like a blur. Harry and Anne stood holding your legs, Gemma stood to the side taking photos and videos, and the second when you knew you could no longer give anymore, you felt her leave your body.

You fell back onto your pillow breathless. “Harry… She’s not crying.”

He watched the nurse pick her up, her little arms raised straight in front of her, and before he could even think to say anything, she let out the most pronounced cry he’d ever heard.

Near the middle of the Complete Book of Baby Names, was one that visited you even in your dreams. You knew months before she was born what she would be called, and maybe that’s proof that mothers always know best.

By the time your daughter was born, she was referred to at the hospital as Baby Girl Styles. The bright-blue eyed daughter of you and Harry Styles, weighing 6 pounds 9ounces, was brought into this world at 4:37 in the morning, granting your wish to not spend the holidays in the hospital.

“If all is perfect, you should be out of here by Christmas Eve.” And that you were.

The first time Harry saw his daughter, he burst into tears. The nurse raised her to set your chest, and as you held her for the first time, he leaned down to plant a pert little kiss to her head. One of many, and he knew.

“Thank you,” he muttered against your forehead. “Thank you. I love you so much. Thank you.”

He will lose track of how many times he thanks you over the next week.

Over the next two days, the two of you learned how to be parents. Within the first 24 hours, River successful was able to shit up and shit on her father, and he knew then that she was going to be a tough one to handle.

“All I ever did was love you,” he whines, running over to the sink.

He learned that she loves to lay on his chest while he hums, and it’s the quickest way to put her to sleep; you would watch them from your bed and learn to cry quietly so she wouldn’t wake up. The sight of the man you fell in love with, holding the daughter made from that same exact love, was all you needed to be sent into a floodgate of tears.

“Can’t wait to take you home, petal. You’ll get to meet Roro, and Evie… They’re very nice.” He gently laid her down on the bed, pulling out her onesie that he picked out to take her home in. “We’re going to be in the car for a little while, okay? I hope you don’t mind. We’re going to go to your nana’s house first. Spend a couple days there.”

Watching him gently place her tiny arms into the sleeves of her gown was nearly comical. Replace your daughter with a glass sculpture, and that’s what it looked like he was dressing.

“Harry, it’s okay. Be gentle, but not that—”

“She is a fragile little flower, love.”

You and Gemma nearly spit your drinks out.

For the drive to Anne’s, you sat in the backseat with River while Harry drove, and Gemma sat passenger. She slept for most of the drive, only waking up when she needed fed, which Harry promptly pulled into a McDonald’s parking lot, so you could take her out of her seat.

Once the four of you arrived at Holmes Chapel, you promptly found yourself in your designated bedroom, falling limply onto the sheets; you don’t think you’ll be moving until the next morning. A few minutes later, Harry strolled in with a tiny bundle in his arms, Gemma following behind with the bassinet.

“Mummy needs a nap,” you whisper, looking up at Harry as he gently set River in her bed.

“Mum said Charlene is having a Christmas party later tonight. Me, Gem and Mum might pop in and say hi… Let me know if you’re feeling up to it, okay? I won’t stay long.”

You give him a small nod, feeling him pulling a blanket over your body.

“Mind if I join you? Parenting is exhausting.”

For the first time since leaving the hospital, you properly felt like a family.

#famous series #harry styles #harry styles imagine #one direction #one direction imagine #harry styles fluff #one direction fluff #this isn't as perfect as i would have hoped but i hope you guys like it

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whumptasticwednesday · 5 years

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Lost in the past (Kit Walker -American Horror Story Asylum)

Alright so if you don't recall Kit remarried a girl named Allison after ax-murdering Grace and Alma lmao. So because I don't want to use y/n, I'm just going to use Allison considering that is the name of his Wife. Alright, that's all I wanted to say. Enjoy.

-Jimmy

Word Count- 1,795

________________________________________________________________

The night started as usual. Timmy and Emily were stationed on the living room rug playing with toys and such. Kit was in the kitchen, cutting lettuce and dicing tomatoes for dinner. Sunlight flooded in from the bay windows, and the euphoric sound of the record player in the dining room filled the space with a warm tone. Kit's mind was at peace, which is not something he can typically admit.

Since Briarcliff Kit's life has been a whirlwind of sleepless nights and flashbacks. Nothing is simple anymore. He can't spend the day out with his family without the perpetual fear of something triggering a flashback. The worst part is not knowing, having no idea what might send his brain into a paralyzing adrenalin rush. It's a terrifying reality. If he ever did anything that put his Wife or, god forbid his kids in danger, he wouldn't be able to live with himself. He would very well rather shove a bread knife through his throat than have to live with the immeasurable guilt of knowing he put his family in jeopardy.

In the garden, Allison took a deep breath, letting the sweet, warm air of spring calm her busy mind. She took a moment to appreciate the relaxing ambiance of the great outdoors as she headed back inside after picking some vegetables for dinner. A smile tugged on her lips as she admired the delicate pastel flowers she and the kids planted, just beginning to bloom. She took the time to enjoy the little things in life when she could. It helped her in dealing with the trauma Kit suffered and continued to suffer with. It can be a lot sometimes. But she knows that she has to stay strong for him. She closed her eye's for a moment, letting the air finally escape her lungs as she headed back inside to help Kit.

The front door creaked as Allison pushed it open, sliding off her shoes as she walked inside. She set the basket of vegetables down on the counter. Walking up to Kit, she wrapped her hands around his waist, trailing kisses down his neck.

"How was work?" She asked, giving him one last kiss before turning her attention back to the basket of vegetables.

"Slow," Kit responded, adding some uncooked spaghetti noodles into a pot of already boiling water. "But that's not a surprise. We're always slow."

"Mommy! When will dinner be ready?" Timmy asked, peeking his head over the counter. "I'm hungry!"

"Be patient, go back into the living room and play with your sister." Kit intervened, running his fingers through Timmy's shaggy hair.

"Daddy!" Timmy giggled. Emily came running over, pulling on Timmy's sleeve. "I bet I can jump higher than you," Emily teased.

"No you can't, I'm the best jumper in the whole world!" Timmy yelled as they ran out the sliding glass door and into the back yard.

"Don't go too far; dinner will be ready in 10 minutes!" Allison yelled after them. "It's like they never run out of energy."

"Reminds me of when I was their age." Kit said, staring out the kitchen window at his kids playing in the yard. A smile spread across his face. Those kids meant everything to him.

"Whatcha' thinking about?" Allison asked, resting her head on his shoulder as she looked out the window with him.

"Nothing." He took a deep breath, "The spaghetti looks about done, want to get the bowls ready?" She nodded, kissing him on the cheek.

"Here let me do that." Kit insisted, taking a stack of dirty plates out of Allison's hands. "You just relax."

"Alright, if you say so. But I wasn't the one at work all day." Allison said, sitting down on the couch next to Emily and running her fingers through her curly black hair. "You should be the one relaxing" Allison reached to the end table and picked up her copy of Little Women. The spine cracked as she opened it to where she had left off, as Kit began washing the dishes.

"Oh my goodness!" Allison exclaimed after a long moment of silence, catching Kit very off guard. Distracted, Allison didn't pay attention to the sound of colliding dishes and Kit’s disgruntled grunts. "I can not believe that Amy would turn down Fred's wedding proposal! They were meant to be together. Now, who is she go-"

"A-Allis-s-s-on, I-I think I h-hurt my sel-lf." Kit interrupted, Allison's eye's went wide as she realized what just happened. She quickly jumped off the couch as she saw his shoulders begin to quiver.

"Okay, Okay, calm down. it's alright." She started, running to his aid. He stood, frozen, in front of the sink. Wide-eyed staring down at a jagged cut across his palm, his blood ran in thick crimson rivers into the sink where the steak knife laid. She looked up at his expressionless face, his mouth was slightly parted, and his eyes seemed unable to look away from the seemingly neverending cascade of blood draining from his cut. His eyes suddenly shifted. Allison thought for a second that maybe it was going to be okay. That she would bandage him up and they would go to bed happy and peaceful. That he would be able to rationalize the severity of the situation and realize that he's okay, but it's never that easy. Not for him. Not for someone with a mind as damaged as Kit’s. In his mind, any unplanned event could cause a lifetime of traumas to flash before his eyes. She can see the panic begin to set in. It starts in his face, he grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut. Everything moved in slow motion as Kit fell to his knees, his hands pressed to the ground, blood splattered the peeling linoleum floor. His breathing accelerated, and his heart began to pound against his ribs like an animal trapped in a cage. "Kit, baby, I need you to breathe," Allison begged placing a hand on his shoulder. Kit's body jerked away as he backed up, his back slamming against the old kitchen cabinets. His chest heaved as his blood slick hands grabbed fistfuls of his dark brown hair. Blood slowly dripped down his face, staining his pallid skin. He looked up at her with his manic eyes, his breathing now distorting into a labored wheeze.

"P-p-please, don-nt" He started, his vision disfiguring as if he was looking through a fish-eye lens. "Plea-ase d-d-don't try t-to he-elp. I don-t-t wan-t-t to hurt y-you." Tears began to drip down his face; hiccups racked his body as he placed his hands over his eyes — blood smearing across his face.

"I'm not afraid of you Kit. But you need to calm down," Alison said inching closer to him.

"No! No, d-d-don't touch me" Kit screamed trying to back away further, but instead, slammed himself into the kitchen cabinet again.

"Mommy?" Emily whispered, sticking her head out from over the counter. "What's going on?"

"Emily, I need you to listen to me. Go get Timmy and go play in your bedroom," Allison said. Emily nodded as she wiped stray tears from her cheeks.

"Oh god, oh god w-what d-d-id I do." Kit exclaimed, pulling his knees to his chest and squeezing his hands into tight fists. His nail beds began to turn purple as his breathing became even more erratic. He squeezed his eye's shut and his face twisted into a distorted grimace as the flashbacks started. All of the torture he endured being replayed over and over again. He cried as if his brain was being shredded from the inside. From his mouth came raw gut-wrenching cries. Allison stifled a cry of her own. There was nothing she could do except watch. Watch as her husband sat on the kitchen floor, covered in blood, shaking so violently she thought he might single-handedly cause an earthquake. He felt like he was losing his mind; he was unraveling like a spool of loose thread. The whole world felt like a blur.

"You need to slow down your breathing. Take some deep breaths" Kit could tell Allison was talking to him, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not understand what she was saying. "You're not at Briarcliff anymore" He could feel himself screaming, saliva dripping down his chin. But he is trapped in what feels like an eternal silence. The only sound he can hear is Dominique playing over and over in his head. It's engraved it's self into his brain like the grooves of the record. "You're at home, with your family" He could feel his face becoming hot as pins and needles crept up his arms starting in his fingertips. Kit felt like he was gasping for breath, his esophagus spasming, sending him into a seemingly unending coughing fit. His cheeks began to feel cold, and his hands clammy, he couldn't even tell if he was crying anymore. His body was starting to go numb. He peeled his eyes open, but thick salty tears blurred his vision. He wiped the spit from his mouth, smearing blood across his lips. His whole body felt numb, and his head felt like a weight upon his shoulders. He didn't even notice Allison's arms wrapped around him, her hands rubbing soothing circles on his back. His body couldn't take much more of this. His vision began to lag. Next thing he knew, he had been completely engulfed in darkness. No more crying. No more screaming. The only thing he could feel now was his heart, beating as if he had just run a marathon.

Allison looked down at the boy lying in her arms. Silent tears crept down her face as she held him. Drying blood matted his hair to his forehead, and stray tears leaked from his closed eyes. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths. The kitchen was scattered with bloody handprints that she hoped would wash off. But that was the least of her concerns right now. She wasn't sure what to do next. After a long moment of silence, Allison felt a small hand tap her on the shoulder. She wiped her eyes before turning her head around to see Emily and Timmy. They gave her a small smile and sat down next to her; she pulled them in closer. A sob she didn't even know she was holding back erupted from her chest.

"Is daddy going to be okay?"

“I hope so”

________________________________________________________________

Alrighty, that was... an experience. I don’t know how to feel about this but enjoy!

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fangirl--of-everything · 6 years

Text

Everything They've Built (Warren Worthington III x Reader) part 5

Word Count: 4280

Request: nope

Chapter Warning: violence, swearing, teenagers fighting each other

Series Warning: violence, blood, occasional descriptions of gore, swearing, emotionally abused Warren (I will give specific chapter warnings for when each of these things occur in specific chapters)

A/N. I love this chapter. Please tell me what you guys think about it :)

(the masterlist and previous chapters are available on my blog under the tag “everything they’ve built”, because this site is being stupid and won’t let my posts show up in the search if they have links embedded in them)

Alright, enjoy :)

It took almost seven months. Seven months of planning, and fighting, and stolen discussions. Seven months of hiding, and secret glances, and whispered conversations. Seven months of waiting. And the worst part was, when it actually happened, they weren't prepared. Nothing went according to plan. (Y/n) and Warren has decided to keep the plan between the two of them and (y/n)'s little sister. Not that it really was much of a plan. The gist of it was to watch for any opportunity to escape, and take it. (Y/n) wouldn't leave without Alina, so the plan was that if they couldn't get to her, Warren should escape and bring the German police down on the club. He finally convinced her of just how powerful his father was back in America, and now she was convinced that they needed that power to tear down the small empire the humans had built. Warren knew they didn't need it. They could destroy it on their own. Alina kept an eye out from her place in the infirmary, making conversation with the other fighters and learning what she could. She would give the information to (y/n) or Warren whenever she was patching them up after a fight. She had taken quite a liking to Warren, and always gave him a smile whenever he came in. (Y/n) teased him about it constantly. She also warned him that if he broke her little sister's heart she would kill him. When they weren't planning and sharing information they trained. It was challenging since they couldn't practice against each other, but (y/n) taught him the best she could from the opposite cell. She wasn't technically a fighter herself, not one with any real training anyway, but she told him about the other mutants and their abilities, and how best to combat them. They realized he wasn't super prepared to fight most of the mutants in the arena. He was strong, and fast, but against someone who could shoot fire he couldn't really compete. He'd been in four fights so far, and he'd won, but only by sheer luck. Sure, he had big wings, but they couldn't be used offensively. Until (y/n) noticed something that changed that.

"What are those?" She asked abruptly.

"What?" He grunted, halfway through a push-up. His wings were stretched out, reaching straight up from his back. It was the only position in the cell where he could fully stretch his wings without electrocuting them. "Those." She gestured to his wings. "Those…" she waved her hand in the air, searching for the word. "Those, those things, on the top of your wings." He sat up, grabbing his shirt off the floor. "What are you talking about?" He lowered one wing, curving it so he could see what she was talking about. "That!" She cried, pointing. "That part without the feathers." He raised an eyebrow at her, taking his time to look over the length of his wing. He knew how much she hated waiting, and how frustrated she got when she couldn't find the right words, and he enjoyed making her suffer a little. She made him feel like an idiot a lot of the time, and it was nice to get payback. "Pieprzyć." She snapped, glaring at him. "You know what I'm talking about." "Yeah I do." He smiled at her. Shifting, he angled his wing closer. "You mean this right?" He tapped the bony protrusion on the top of his wing. "I don't know what they are. It's just bone or something." "Can you use them?" She asked. He shrugged. "I don't know. What would I use them for?" "If we can sharpen them you can use them as an attack." He nodded thoughtfully, taking a step back, away from the electrified cell door. He hopped a little on the balls of his feet, shook out his shoulder, and swung his arm, his wing with it. It sliced through the air. If there was someone in front of him, it was possible that the bone could do some serious damage. He grinned at her. She laughed-- his smile was contagious, it wasn't her fault. "Don't get too excited. You still suck." "I've won four fights!" He protested. "I've won sixty." She shot back. "If you want to get out of here you need to be careful. Don't assume you can always win." He didn't. So he trained hard, he learned everything he could about his opponents, and he got used to the feeling of blood on his hands. And he won. And the crowd loved him. (Y/n) had explained that it took more then just winning to get the crowd to love you. He couldn't just win and stalk off. He had to have a presence, something that made him stand out from the parade of bloody mutants they saw every night. She suggested that since he was an angel, he should be an angel of vengeance. So every time he fought he stalked around the cage, and he shouted about justice and crimes and retribution, all phrases (y/n) had taught him to say in German. The crowd ate it up. They had no idea what he was saying wasn't directed towards his opponent, it was directed towards them. He was going to destroy them all. Everything they've built. It became a mantra, something he and (y/n) said to each other every night, before a match, whenever the guards tried to play with them. They would look at each other, and mouth the words, and it made things just a little bit easier. -----/--/----- When the guards came for him, almost seven months after this had all started, she met his gaze, nodded, and mouthed the words, the way she always did. The guards gestured for him to back up, and he did. He learned early that it was useless to try anything. He just walked over to the concrete wall, rested his head against it, folded his wings against his back, and put his hands on the wall on either side of his head. The guard shoved him against the wall roughly, and Warren squeezed his eyes shut, trying to take steady breaths, as the man pressed against his back, grabbing him much more roughly then necessary. This was something he couldn't get used to. The guard yanked his arms down roughly, using zip ties to bind his wrists over top of his wings. "Turn around freak." The guard snapped in German. He shoved Warren hard against the wall, pushing his face into the concrete, and Warren squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his jaw to keep from jerking back and kicking the guard's ass. Once the guard let him go he turned slowly, eyes locking on (y/n). He could see the muscle in her jaw twitch, her hands were clenching and unclenching, sparks falling onto the floor. Her tail swishing angrily. Her eyes were burning. They dragged him out of the cell and he turned to look at her over his shoulder. "It's okay." He mouthed. She nodded. "Everything they've built." "Everything they've built." He repeated. "Good luck." He nodded. "I'll see you later." She nodded. Her tail flicked back, hitting the small cassette player against the wall, and Warren smiled when Metallica started blasting from the device. Having the love of the crowd earned mutants certain perks. They had music and slightly better food. They also got hit slightly more regularly, God forbid they get it in their heads that they were worth anything or had any sort of power or control. It did mean that Warren got to spend time with Alina though. She always got flustered when he was around, stammering and blushing and keeping her head down. And she said his name a lot. It felt good, since him and (y/n) had taken to calling each other by their stage names for the most part. He couldn't say why. Maybe they wanted to keep their real names, their real identities, separate from this place. Warren allowed himself to be led from the holding area and into the ring. They cut the zip ties around his wrists and shoved him inside. He was the main fighter tonight, the reigning champion, and they gave him a minute to hype up the crowd. "Are you ready?" He shouted in German, earning loud screams. "Are you ready assholes? Alright let's do this!"

When the guards pulled in his first opponent he felt a rush of adrenaline, and he bounced on the balls of his feet. He didn't enjoy fighting, he didn't like killing people, but this buzz of adrenaline he got before a fight was the closest thing to a high, to any sort of strong feeling that wasn't pain or anger he got to feel anymore. He could even convince himself it was a positive feeling. Sometimes he did too good a job and found himself enjoying what he was doing. Fighting was a way to release his fury with the guards, with his situation. It was twisted, but punching another mutant meant he didn't have to punch someone else, and escape the beating that followed. The first few fights were easy. It was to build him up, and to make easy money. It wasn't until the fourth opponent that he was even a little challenged. The girl spit poison, which made things complicated. His wings were like a big target. He handled it though. She couldn't spit poison once he shattered her jaw. The sixth opponent was the first one he killed. The kid wouldn't stay down. He looked at the guards, asking one of them to shock the kid and get him out of there, but instead he got a small nod. That was the worst part. Some people bet money not just on the winner, but on which mutant would survive. When there was enough money in it the guards had the winner kill the loser. It was one of the hardest moments. After that things went smoothly, until opponent number eleven. Warren had never fought more than eight rounds before-- usually the crowd got bored of the same person winning over and over, and got angry at all the money they were losing. But apparently today the guards wanted him to fight all fifteen rounds. His tally on the floor-- his trademark-- grew bigger and bigger, and he bounced on the balls of his feet, waiting for number eleven. "The only thing that can take on an angel, is the devil himself." The announcer shouted in German. Warren rolled his eyes, bouncing on the balls of his feet and shaking out his shoulders. His wings rustled against his back. "Ladies and gentlemen, the amazing, the fantastic, Nightcrawler!" They brought in a cage-- Warren had forgotten that some of the opponents tonight would be new-- and threw one of the strangest mutants he'd ever seen into the ring. Maybe not, he spent most of his time with a girl covered in scales, but still. This kid was pretty strange looking. He was blue, for one, covered in strange markings that if Warren had to guess were self-inflicted, and had a blue tail flicking behind him. Warren gave him a second to look around and scramble to his feet before he lunged, wing curving, the sharpened bone aimed for the kid's face. But when he swung the kid wasn't there. He stumbled forward and heard the other mutant shout as he hit the electrified wall of the cage. He vanished, popping up a few feet further down the fence, vanishing, reappearing, over and over until finally letting go and falling to the ground. The cage flickered and sparked. The crowd booed. -----/--/----- (Y/n) bobbed her head to the heavy metal music, but her mind stayed locked on Warren as she listened to the muted cheering of the crowd outside. She knew they had brought someone from outside, a mutant from a circus, and she didn't trust it. She had heard some things that made her wary. Not to mention the fact that Warren was extremely cocky. He was going to get himself killed. And yes, she did worry about that every time he went to fight. It wasn't her fault. He got hurt often and he thought he was invincible. She turned up the music to tune out the sounds of her worrying. She had to admit, American rock music was pretty good. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the screaming singers for hours, until a very real scream made her eyes snap open. She was on her feet in a second, eyes locked on the door. "What's going on?" She asked the mutant a few cells down in German. "What's happening?" The furry mutant shrugged. A low hum went through the room, and the lights flickered. Something shifted in the air, and it took (y/n) a second to realize that it was the lack of electricity. She grabbed the door of her cell, expecting to be shocked, and felt nothing. She grinned. This was it. This was their chance. She kicked the mesh door, once, twice, three times, and it came crashing down. She ran out, pausing when the lights hummed back on and a crackle of static flooded back into the room. She looked at the other mutants, many of whom were watching her with wide eyes, before running past them. She had to get to the medic bay. -----/--/----- "High voltage!" The announcer shouted. "Sorry mutants." Warren shook out his wings, resisting the urge to give the guy the finger, turning his attention back to the mutant. He wanted to get this done fast. He was tired and his wings hurt. He just wanted to pass out to some music. He ran, using his wings to give him speed, and glided around the ring, wing swinging towards the kid. It hit empty air and he stumbled, grunting when he hit the ground. It took a second to adjust his balance. He spun with a growl, eyes darting around the ring until he found the little monster hiding up in the rafters. "Alright." Warren said to himself, shaking out his wings. "I can get up there too you know." It only took two strong beats of his wings, and he landed on the beam in front of the kid. His balance had improved over the past several months, and he was able to stand, and fight, on the narrow plank. He lunged for the kid, this time using his fist, and the other mutant used his tail to swing under the rafter and land further away. Warren glanced down to see the guards shifting, hands on their guns. The crowd wasn't cheering anymore, they were shouting for blood. And not just the blue kid's either. He needed to turn this around. "Hold still you little shit!" He growled, crouching low. The boy's eyes widened, and in a poof of smoke he disappeared. Warren looked down to see him standing in the centre of the ring. "For fuck's sake." He sighed, using his wings to drop. His wing swung like a club, and the kid disappeared again, popping up behind him. Warren whirled around. The guards were pacing around the cage now, and the crowd was throwing things. The kid didn't get it. Warren beating the crap out of him was better then them both dying. He wasn't going to die after almost seven months because this blue bastard wouldn’t fight. It wasn't happening. "Fight or they'll kill us both!" He shouted desperately, gesturing to the guards. The boy's eyes widened with understanding as he looked at the guards. Then he disappeared again. "Fuck." -----/--/----- When (y/n) entered the main corridor she had to duck back to avoid three men running towards the cells. There was no way that they wouldn't see her, so she shifted on the balls of her feet, crouching low, tail flicking behind her. The first guard came into her reach, and she grabbed his gun, lifting it so the spray of bullets were fired into the ceiling instead of her. She rammed the gun into his face, then snapped his neck. Her tail flicked out and wrenched the gun from the second guards hands, and she spun, catching him around the neck. It broke easily. The third guard was the biggest threat, as he had time to prepare. She crouched low, turning her body, so the bullets aimed for her chest bounced off her scales. She sprang up and wrenched the gun from his hands. He had a knife pulled out of his belt in an instant, and he brought it slashing down. It bounced off the shock collar around her neck, and for the first time in her life she was grateful for the clunky metal torture device. She snapped the guard's wrist, and the the knife fell from his hand. Her tail wrapped around the guard's other wrist, wrenching his hand away from the remote that would turn on the shock collar, and her hand locked around his neck. Later she would be afraid of the pleasure she felt when her palm burst into flames, but in the moment the guard's screams felt good. She dropped the charred body and sprinted towards the sickbay, only getting about ten feet before she heard footsteps. More guards then she could easily take out. She backed up, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She had to get to her sister. More footsteps thundered in the hall, and she screamed in frustration, turning and running in the other direction. She would come back once she had Warren to help her. "Fight! Or they'll kill us both!" Warren's voice rang out over the screaming crowd. She ran out into the fighting arena in time to see a blue mutant appear behind Warren and wrap his tail around Warren's neck. She shoved her way through the crowd, burning people if necessary, struggling to force her way to the ring as Warren was thrown around, dragged across an electrified fence. She reached the cage as Warren stumbled to his feet, left wing limp and burnt, fury in his eyes. "I'm sorry!" The other mutant shouted, hands raised to ward off a beating. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Warren stalked forward like a predator, something animal in his eyes. He actually wanted to hurt the kid. There was a hum and the lights flickered, one bulb exploding. The crackle of static disappeared again, and the blue mutant teleported outside of the cage. An alarm screamed. "Angel!" (Y/n) shouted, waving her arms at him. His eyes stayed locked on the other mutant for a second before shifting to her. "Time to go!" He nodded, jumping into the air. His lift was lopsided and his left wing moved awkwardly, his face contorting in pain. He grabbed one of the panels a few feet in the air and yanked it from the wall of the cage, heaving himself out and dropping gracelessly to the ground. By this point people were running, and screaming, because oh god the mutants were free! It made it much harder for (y/n) to get to Warren. Setting her hands on fire did seem to do the trick. People leapt out of her way, shouting for the guards, and praying to their gods at the sight of the demon in their midst. She rolled her eyes and shot a jet of fire at a man who got too close. Even with the fire, and her visible mutation, the crowd was still too thick and hysterical for her to make enough headway. She couldn't see over the crowd, and was left being swept along, shoved by men much bigger than her. She had just decided it was time to start killing to get her way, when a hand grabbed her arm. She spun, tail wrapping around her attacker's throat, and Warren arched an eyebrow, smirking. He tried to shout something over the crowd, but she couldn't hear it over all the screaming. He tugged her forward hard, and she slammed into his chest. He spun, dragging her with him, his elbow catching one of the guards in the jaw. "Move!" He shouted in her ear, pushing her forward. "I've got a way out." "Nie!" She looked at him over her shoulder. "No, we're going the wrong way. We have to get Alina." "We can't." He pushed her through the crowd. "We have to leave now." "Nie!" She dug in her heels. "I'm not leaving without her." "We'll come back for her, I promise." His eyes locked on hers. "We won't leave her here. We just can't get to her right now. We have to get out of here." She shook her head stubbornly. She was not leaving her baby sister here. Warren growled, arm wrapping around her waist, actually lifting her off the ground. He dragged her a few feet to the side, lunging forward and catching the blue mutant's tail as it swept through the air. The world jerked violently, and (y/n) stumbled to the side, disorientation and nausea leaving her confused. She blinked, trying to shake it off, in time to see Warren get elbowed in the face and land on his ass. She hissed automatically and spun to see only smoke where seconds ago a blond woman had been. "What the fuck just happened?" She snapped, turning to look at Warren who was just struggling to his feet. "We have to go back." He winced, rubbing a hand over his face. "English please." She hadn't realized she switched to Polish. "We need to go back. Now." Warren shook his head. "What we need to do is haul ass. We gotta get out of here before the guards show up." He took a step forward, reaching for her arm. She took a step back and shook her head. "No. I'm not going anywhere until we save my sister." "(Y/n) you have to listen--" She heard movement to their left and grabbed his arm, tugging him down and shoving him into the space between two buildings. He hissed as his injured wing rubbed up against the brick wall, but he curled them close against his back and followed her lead, the two of them squeezing into the small space. When two guards came running into the alley, Warren grabbed her tail, tugging it out of the lamplight. She curled it around his wrist and he shifted, putting his back between them and the guards. His wings were pulled tightly against his back, head lowered, shoulders hunched, trying to make himself as small as possible. His forehead rested against the top of her head. Her face was pressed into his shirt, fistfuls of the fabric clenched tightly in each of her hands. It may appear as if they were hiding, afraid of being discovered, but in truth they clung to each other to keep from attacking the guards and tearing them limb from limb. Warren's body actually shook with the need to tear them apart, and he clenched his jaw, grip tightening on (y/n)'s tail. He could feel the heat of her hands through his shirt, and her tail twitched angrily in his grip. She wanted to fight them too. "Listen." Warren breathed as the guards ran out of earshot. "We can't take them all on ourselves. Let's give it a few days, call the cops, and then go look for Alina okay?" Her jaw worked as she thought about it. She shook her head against his chest. "I'm not leaving her there. We shouldn't have left without her. I shouldn't have left without her." "Hey." Warren nudged her side. She looked up at him, mind obviously at war. "Hey," Warren shifted, shoulders hunching, forcing her to look at him. She glared, but her gold eyes were glowing, pupils bigger then he'd ever seen them. She was scared. "Listen to me." He said quietly. "You didn't leave her there okay? I grabbed you and dragged you out. You couldn't fight me off, I'm too awesome." She rolled her eyes and snorted, and he gave her a small smile. "Don't worry okay? We'll go back, tomorrow even, and we'll get her. Okay?" She bit her lip, nodding hesitantly. "Obietnica?" "Yeah." He nodded. "Yeah I promise. Now let's get out of here and find somewhere to crash. My back is killing me." "I'm sorry," She apologized as they wiggled out of the small space. "I forgot. Are you okay? Your wing…" she reached out, fingers brushing the burnt feathers, and he winced as the muscles in his back constricted painfully at the contact. "Pierdolić! I'm so sorry." She took three full steps back, hands up, going so far as to look him squarely in the eyes, as of merely looking at his wings would be enough to make them hurt. "What can I do?" "I'm fine." Warren groaned, forcing himself to stand up straight despite the pain shooting through his wing and back. "I'm okay honestly. I can power through it til we get Alina and she fixes it. Don't worry." "You sure?" She asked, studying him. He nodded. "Yeah. I'm good." He took a step forward and found that his balance was off. She was there in a second, arm-- and tail-- sliding around his waist. She kept her hand low, far from his wing, and her thumb rubbed soothing circles against his spine. "I just need a nap. Then we'll go find your sister. I promise."

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uhhhhhhokay · 6 years

Text

My Unpopular Opinions of 2018

This is messy, a bit mean, and full of my mad/irritated feelings. You’ve been warned. No slipping into my asks as an anon to fight with me because I’ve posted this on my account. These are my opinions and I’ve already said that they aren’t that nice to some shows

1) Charmed and Black Lightning are the only good CW shows and it has the best lesbian rep of 2018 (and Rosa from b99 would be the best bisexual rep)

2) Melanie Scrofano/Wynonna Earp is the best part of Wynonna Earp. Honestly lately the rest of the characters for me have either awful or boring or funny but given nothing to do

3) Also even though she’s the main actress, Melanie is somehow the most underrated actress/character in the show. She’s disregarded by so many fans, either in favor of Wayhaught or Doc, and the show treats her like shit by constantly putting her with Doc

4) Descendants fans who pit Dove Cameron and China Anne McClain against each other in the hopes of making the other seem superior are doing absolutely nothing for their careers and are contributing to the unnecessary comparison between successful women

5) Also I don’t care if you don’t like Dove Cameron, but hating her for that Mal/Harry comment she made months ago is so fucking ridiculous. She’s a girl in love who also loves her character, god forbid she make her own headcanons for it, and it wasn’t like she was asking for it to happen (and no she wasn’t disregarding Mal’s current relationship Ben because she was talking about Mal and Harry being exes god damnit)

6) I can’t believe i have to say this in 2018 BUT STOP WITH THE INCEST STORYLINES! IT AIN’T CREATIVE OR SURPRISING BITCHES JUST GROSS

7) ALSO STOP SHIPPING INCEST GOD PLEASE STOP

8) Timothee Chamalet or whatever his name is, isn’t that great. Like he’s fine I guess but like....Have you seen other actors? I mean, there’s Fady Elsayed, Jack Black, Jordan Renzo, Greg Austin (rip Class), and so many more actors that are, in my opinon, significantly more talented

9) Letterkenny and Galavant are the best comedies out there

10) Riverdale is shit for erasing Jughead’s asexuality and queerbaiting fans at the beginning with Beronica

11) I’ve said this before, but people disliking Cole Sprouse because of the abuse allegation against him is incredibly valid.

12) Mike Flanagan, Jordan Peele, and Kate Siegel are the only people I trust to write some bone chilling horror stories

13) The Haunting of Hill House is better than American Horror Story and The Chilling Adventures of Sabrine combined

Now it’s time to get serious.....

14) I have no respect and cannot get along with people who talk about how ugly people are

15) The hellsite is shit for so many reasons but some of its worst qualities are when people take a situation and make it black and white, have zero sympathy or empathy for other people, and twist peoples words and put in meanings that were never there

16) I also hate how how people only care about mental illness when it doesn’t come to their jokes or memes. For example, mental health has been talked about a lot in regards to Ariana Grande, which is good, but once her engagement with Pete Davidson ended, no one hesitated to attack him in almost every way possible even though the man has been very outspoken about his depression. I don’t know shit about Pete Davidson but I’ve seen him relentlessly be attacked and have his depression and suicidal thoughts be joked about.

17) Stanning is a fucked up culture that we need to leave behind in 2018. There are some celebrities who have a lot of projects that I love and I admire their talent, but the concept of stanning either includes an unhealthy amount of devotion to a celebrity or it erases them as a human being and reduces them down to objects. In some cases, both of these are true. It’s a sick thing for both fans and the celebrities. If a celebrity does something wrong, call them out, and if they don’t listen, well forget it or move on. Cancelling them as if they can be thrown in the garbage and disposed of promotes negativity and hatred, which is doesn’t solve anything, and it can inhibit any growth from that celebrity. They are human and will inevitably fuck up. It’s the only way to learn and grow.

18) This is about Wynonna Earp but it’s a serious post. I’ve made my thoughts about this show abundantly clear but there is one thing I haven’t talked about at all and that’s the racism in the show and in the fanbase. Disclaimer: I am white. This show hasn’t treated any of their poc or black characters well. The latest example would be the treatment of Dolls and Kate. The last two seasons Doc has had two women of color as his love interests, and both of these characters have been treated as objects to make Wynonna jealous. There is also the lack of story and villainization of these women. There is also the major lack of story with Dolls, which most likely led to Shamier Anderson’s decision to leave. I won’t get into anymore, this is how I’ve always viewed these poor storylines, but I will say this: white fans of Wynonna Earp, we do not get a say on how black viewers should feel about any of these storylines. White lesbians, you would be livid is Waverly or Nicole were killed, and rightfully so. Black people or people of color probably felt the rage you would’ve felt if you lost one of those characters when Dolls was killed off. Telling people to get over it is cruel. If people want to stop watching, that is their right. We have no place in telling them how they should feel about the treatment of their representation.

19) I made this post a while ago but it holds true: https://uhhhhhhokay.tumblr.com/post/179314393735/shows-with-good-lgbt-rep

20) Everyone needs a break from social media. I know that for some people, it really helps because we have friends on here that we can talk to, but it also has so many negative effects. The real world is nothing like this toxic website. You should take breaks from it every once in a while. You need to get hobbies. You need some other past time than this website. The majority of people on this site aren’t good and everyone should take a breather from it. I take breaks from this site on a regular basis and when I do it feels so fucking good.

21) Random but The Lodgers is the worst movie ever and it’s an even worse horror movie. Would not recommend. Unless you feel like roasting something for an hour and a half. The only good part about watching that movie was that I watched it with my roommate who I am good friends with and we laughed our asses off and made fun of it so much. It is truly awful. Even though I had a blast roasting it, I will never get that time of my life back.

22) The Last Jedi does not deserve that 91% on rotten tomatoes. Just like how The Lodgers deserves far less than 56%.

23) Time to get serious again. I get that a lot of us wished that the shows we loved were real, but they aren’t. That’s a fact that everyone needs to realize and accept. To me, hating an actor for their character’s actions is just as fucked up as stanning. They aren’t their character. They are not responsible for the shit their characters pull. They are carrying out the story written for them. As for writers, sometimes the writers do not support their characters actions either. Just because the character is evil or mean or whatever does not always mean that the people who work behind the curtain support that.

24) Shipping real people and harassing them is sooo inappropriate and messed up. I shouldn’t really have to explain this one but too many people on this site don’t seem to grasp it. I mean, didn’t Harry Styles say a while ago that all the smutty fanfics, tweets, and fanarts about him and his bandmates effect his friendships with him? Him reacting that way is not homophobic, btw. It is him reacting naturally to people fetishizing and sexualizing him and his friends. These are real people. Their relationship, sexuality, and god just so much of their lives is none of our business. They don’t owe us any information about their personal lives. We don’t own them. They are their own people, which also means that they make their own mistakes.

25) Random again, but original Charmed fans put their show too high of a pedestal. I never got really into show. I tried it, think I watched half of the first season, and I did a little research on it and I was in the fanbase for a hot sec but it was very short. From my research, it seems to me, that for a feminist show, the cast (except Shannon Doherty) was the opposite behind the scenes. I know you can’t help who you don’t like but you can control how you talk about someone, especially to the public, and from what I’ve seen there’s been more negative comments from them about their castmates than positive. I don’t think anyone will know the whole story but to me the feud between the og’s leading ladies has always very catty to me, and it’s gotten even worse with the remake. You can be protective of your show without being rude. You don’t have to support the remake, and you can do that without being rude either. By the way, this is more directed towards Holly Marie Combs, who I believe has been the most outspoken about being against it. Three young actresses are doing the job they love and they were given a chance to be the new charmed ones for a new generation. There is no reason to be so negative about it. It looks even more immature when you see the cast of the original Sabrina who gleefully gave their support to the new cast.

26) Adults please stop thinking every show is for you. it’s not. Some shows are for kids, some shows are for teenagers, and some shows are for you. If you enjoy the show that’s directed towards a younger audience then that’s great. If you don’t enjoy it, then that’s fine too. What is not fine is you acting like that show was meant for you and tearing it apart and bullying people of that directed age group online. I can’t believe the amount of times I’ve seen some 19-40 year old dipshit on the internet go and bully a 15 year old only because they said they loved a show. That is not only sick and immature but it’s uncalled for.

27) Also 15 year olds or younger, do not use your age as an excuse to be mean either. You might be young and you will definitely make huge mistakes, but there’s is nothing to justify you telling someone to kill themselves or insulting them just because they don’t like your favorite character or something. You might not be as experienced as some adults, but you’re old enough to know what the fuck you’re doing and how wrong it is. Don’t be cruel and blame it on you being young and stupid. You maybe young and all of us will always be a bit stupid, but that does not excuse your behavior. And @ older people who do that shit too, your older age and power does not excuse your cruelty either. Nothing excuses telling someone to kill themselves. Ever. Especially if it’s over a goddamn tv show.

28) Can Ryan Murphy please just make one tv show and stick with it until it ends? He has so many great concepts but because he wants to do all of them at once they all go downhill after one season.

29) On the same but different note, fuck Ryan Murphy for having Violet and Tate get back together. My girl deserves better than a serial killer/rapist that also got her mom killed because he impregnated her with the anti christ. Fuck that.

I never intended this to be so long lol no one will read this

30) The Hormone Monster is literally a metaphor for hormones. Stop twisting it into pedophilia. That show is so sex positive and is so much better than most of the sex ed that we got.

31) Let’s leave monster fucking behind please

32) Puzzles are a treat to do

33) Funko pops are cute but they make a lot of dumbass decisions regarding which ones to make (like I saw pops of that new nutcracker movie a while before it was released like maybe wait and see how it does first????)

34) Also lets stop thinking of ships/shows as a way to up yourself as more progressive or whatever. We all have our trash shows and ships, stop acting like a saint. Just because someone has a trash ship, does not mean they are lesser than you.

35) Fanbases are usually always trash. This didn’t change at all in 2018.

36) Class’s first season was significantly better than Torchwoods first season. You guys are just mean.

37) While I adore Class, Patrick Ness’s dialogue was really YIKES sometimes (the Charlie April deleted scene nearly killed me). Overall it was good though because it was the closest depiction of how teens speak.

38) Also any teen drama show that has a teen speak seriously in a hashtag should burn in hell (if a hashtag is used in dialogue as joke then it’s fine because it’s funny)

39) An actor being on a show you don’t like does not warrant hate

40) It’s been two years since Class but still, fuck the dw fans who were/are so mean to the class actors, especially Vivian Oparah and Sophie Hopkins.

I think that’s it.

#40 points long #bbc class

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slbp-holiday-exchange-blog · 7 years

Text

Kitten

A Kojuro/MC fic

Fluff/Angst/Supernatural

A holiday gift for @princeanderfels from @quincette

I hope you enjoy this! This is meant to be fluff, but the execution demands a dose of angst that hopefully I have ended in a hopeful note.

She is fighting a losing battle with her illness but she’s not Katakura Kojuro’s precious girl if she’s not resourceful. A Katakura family heirloom and a conversation with Shigezane start an adventure that would probably cost nine lives.

“Weak as a kitten.”

“Best to make her as comfortable as possible.”

Did the doctor think she wouldn’t be able to hear him? She heard everything. And it hurt. The subtle (no, not at all subtle – her mind supplied) suggestion in his words had hurt more than this unnamed malady that had been piercing invisible pins and needles, and viciously twisted them, into her limbs, relentlessly, day in and day out.

There had been brief respites, on warm sunny mornings. Brief periods of painless bliss that fanned the embers of hope inside of her, enough to fight off the next wave of pain.

She closed her eyes. She was so very tired.

“Trust me to get better, as I trust you to come home to me, Milord.”

“I trust you, my precious girl.”

Every time she thought of giving up, she replayed her own parting words to Kojuro, and his to her. He trusted her to keep her promise of fighting to get better. As she was sure he was currently fighting to come back alive from the battlefield to come home to her. She had asked him to trust her, to not giving up hope on her. And he had granted her that. She would not fail him. One does not squander Katakura Kojuro’s trust.

Not without trying, at least.

So, she moved, slowly, swimming through a sea of painful sensations her world had been reduced to. She felt her hand grasping the door and sliding it open, she felt the threshold of the tatami inside and the wood on the verandah outside, warmed by the early spring sun.

Oh, the sun felt so good on her skin. Just a little bit more…

“Doll!”

Oh. No. She’d been caught.

“Shigezane-sama…” she said with an effort.

“What are you doing!? You’ll catch a cold!”

It was not often that the jovial Date cousin sounded upset. He did now. Already she felt one of his hands on her arm, trying to haul her back in, presumably.

“No. No no no no no, please, Shigezane-sama…!” she fought him off.

She felt the hand fall away, and when she opened her eyes, she saw him kneeling next to her, blocking the draft. His face was shaded from the sun but she could vaguely see his frown.

“I-I just… wanted to feel the sun. It’s warm here, Shigezane-sama. You can feel it too, right?” She smiled, even through the pain, the sun did feel good. “Would you help me? Please?”

She heard Shigezane’s sharp breath. “But the doctor–“

“He said to make me as comfortable as possible, did he not?”

Shigezane let out another sharp breath. There had been a pause before she heard him curse softly under his breath, and the next thing she knew she was sitting on the edge of the verandah, comfortably propped on his left shoulder.

“This is the only way I would let you soak up the sun in the open air, got it, doll?”

She sighed. “You’re very kind, Shigezane-sama.”

“Tell that to Kojuro when he murders me for letting you do this.”

She couldn’t help to chuckle. “You’re supposed to be recovering in your bed yourself.”

“Hmh, but it’s such a lovely day to visit my lovely erstwhile neighbour,” he said. “Might cheer her up.”

His back was broad and warm.

“Cheer her up you did…”

She couldn’t see his face, but she could tell that he’s smiling by the slight movement of his shoulder.

They sat together for a while, letting the bush warblers in the budding plum trees fill the silence with their chirps.

“How’s your hand, Shigezane-sama?”

“I think it’s trying to turn into a flipper now,” he said, showing her his bandaged hand. “Do you think I have a chance competing with Bontenmaru for Kojuro’s affection?” He chuckled.

It’s strange how her lips smiled but her eyes stung with unshed tears upon hearing that. She fought the urge to cry.

The bush warblers’ chirp did not manage to drown out the soft sob that escaped her lips.

“Hey,” Shigezane said. “Don’t listen to what the doctor said – I mean, you did hear what he said but I mean, uh, don’t believe the entirety of it, alright? I mean, he said it’s unlikely I will be able to hold sword like I used to with this hand. He said I’d be lucky if my fingers don’t fall off tomorrow, but they will likely be stuck together – disgusting right? But, doll – “

She felt his good hand squeezing hers.

“One way or another, I will keep fighting, you see. I still have my other good hand or god forbid I will train my new flipper to hold a sword if I have to.”

She wasn’t sure if she was crying or laughing at this moment. Or if the edge of her vision was blurry from tears or pain or medicine or all of them combined.

“I am going to be alright,” he continued, “That’s why I think you’ll be alright. Heck, you’re stronger than me. You’re Kojuro’s best student, you know that?”

Like his laughter and his optimism, Shigezane’s conviction was infectious. By the time he shifted her body and propped her to lean on his raised knee so she could see his face, she was smiling again.

“Thank you,” she whispered as he dabbed her tears with his sleeve.

“Want to tell me what that shrivelled old sourplum told you?”

She let out a shaky breath, “That it’s best to make me… comfortable… because I, I am weak as a kitten…”

Shigezane snorted. “That’s all?”

“… like I’m going to die soon, Shigezane-sama,” she looked into his eyes. “Some days, I felt like it too and I am terrified.”

“He doesn’t know that. And he doesn’t know how strong you are. Hell, I just found you clawing the floor to get to the sun. You –“ he squeezed her hand again and this time she squeezed back, “ – are one kitten with helluva sharp claws.”

He grinned and even with the pain, it was impossible for her not to crack one too.

“That’s more like it. Did you know that there was this crazy lord who brought his cat to the battlefield? Outfitted with this special little armour made of coins and stuff?”

She chuckled and shook her head, “No…” The pain felt distant now. The medicine she took in the morning must have taken effect. Her senses felt dulled somewhat and the tears she had shed earlier has made her chest felt lighter and her eyelids heavier.

“It’s true, they have a picture of it in this book, I’m sure Kojuro has one in … –“

She didn’t hear the rest of the story. Still leaning on Shigezane’s raised knee, she let her tired body succumb to sleep.

***

When she came to, she was snugly cocooned inside her room. Her limbs felt numb this time, which was marginally better than the pain, but she knew it wouldn’t last. The numbness would soon splinter into thousands of pins and needles lodged under her skin again. Trying to distract herself, she traced back the day’s event, and her conversation with Shigezane.

She clenched and unclenched her hand, it felt like she was feeling her own skin through a layer of dumpling skin. She replayed his words, his conviction. “Kitten with sharp claws…,” she murmured. There’s nothing she wouldn’t give to be able to transform to one now if that means she could escape her ailing body.

“There was this crazy lord who brought his cat to the battlefield…”

A cat…

“It’s an odd thing to be able to say that you’re the first cat that’s ever taken a liking to me.”

The crazy idea came to her so suddenly, so forcefully and she was so desperate to catch it that she leapt out of the bed and dashed to the door.

Or so she had meant to do, for she collapsed halfway.

“Milady!” the chambermaid assigned to her to her room had woken up and cried out. Her voice was followed by the sounds of hurried footsteps and bedding being thrown away.

She, they – there were more than one tonight – came to her side.

They must have thought I would die soon.

“Milady you shouldn’t –“

“Fetch the doctor!”

Oh, why couldn’t they be Umeko, Matsuko, or Shiro or someone who knew her from her commoner days instead of these young servants who had only known her as ‘Milady’? The title she would take a long time to grow accustomed to. Had she had the time.

“No. No!” she screamed, using their hold to haul herself up. “Please, I need to go…!”

When it only served to make them tighten their hold on her, she realized she needed to change her approach. She steeled herself.

“Fetch Shigezane-sama now or I swear I will have Kojuro-sama strip your hide.”

She recognized the fearful silence that followed her words. She had experienced it firsthand, more than a handful of times, but never as the caused of it. Never in her wildest dreams, she had thought she would one day learn from Yoshihime, let alone channel the Date matriarch’s deep-rooted disdain for commoners through words.

But desperate times and all that.

“Now!” she growled.

It had taken all her strength to keep herself upright until one of the servants assigned to her went running to do her bid.

Only when Shigezane was in her chamber, wild-eyed and concerned, and she had banished all her attendants from the room, did she let herself collapse in his arms.

“Take me to Hachiman shrine, please. Take me to Kita-san, Shigezane-sama.”

***

Having been raised in a shrine with a considerable collection of sacred relics and artefacts, Kojuro was no stranger to supernatural things. He was mostly unfazed by them, and handled them like he handled everything in life – collect enough facts and think of the most effective strategy to get his objectives.

But this was… something else.

Something was following him like a cloud of… good luck. Now, most people would chalk this up to some god’s blessing but Kojuro wasn’t one of them. The universe, he believed, would always constantly balance itself, and if by some accident he was bestowed a good fortune, then he must be prepared to overcome an obstacle or a setback, as it is the way the world works. That’s why dark magic would never really work in the long run.

Good fortune made him suspicious. He has turned his tent upside down in search of an ornate temari – in case all of it was Kogiku’s work. It was unlikely that the Katakura family’s zashiki warashi could convince Kita or Shigetsugu to slip the artefact into his belonging, but just in case she had managed to do so.

But no temari in sight. And knowing Kogiku, if indeed it had been her, she would have been too proud of her work not to take the credit. This… thing that’s been happening to him, whatever it was, it had felt gentler, and manifested in more subtle, small things.

Despite his general incompetence at tidying up, he had never lost a brush during this campaign, or cracked an inkstone, or woken up to find he had spilt ink everywhere during sleep. In the past, he had often fallen asleep without eating his ration to find the rats had gotten into it in the morning. But never in this campaign. In fact, no mention of rats anywhere in the reports he was inspecting.

These small things might escape his notice had it not been culminating in one pivotal incident during a recent skirmish with the enemies. An enemy scout had noticed them during one of their nocturnal outings. He had been stealthy and fast, and he would have gotten away and warned his camp had it not been for something that attacked him, immobilizing him enough for his party to capture him.

That something might have been an animal, for he had found scratches and bite marks on him. Genya only shrugged and smiled when he quizzed him whether that was Oboro’s work.

“Whatever it was, it was definitely the work of a good bitch, huh, Kojuro-san?” he had said in his typically lazy drawl and coarse language, breaking his disguise as Masamune’s kagemusha for a few seconds. Kojuro had a sneaking suspicion that the shinobi had known something more than he let on. But again, Genya had always known more than he let on.

These things that most people would thank the gods for, they made him feel apprehensive. Because they started to feel like a compensation. The universe had not been kind to him and his precious girl of late, and these, he feared, were the flipside of some great misfortune that’s coming their way.

Deep down, he was terrified for her. She had promised him to fight to get better. And she had never let him down, as his page, as his lover. But some things were beyond the mortal control and mortal realm.

Her letters had stopped coming. Kojuro told himself that it was because they had made camp in a rather remote location recently. But her last letter had been short, and her penmanship – usually neat and expressive, a mirror of his own style – had been rather clumsy. It must have been difficult for her to write at that point and…

… and not even all the fortune in the could compensate for her life. So, he had said in his prayers, wishing for her health and his victory in every shrine he had found during his campaign trail, where he had stopped and played a song or two with his flute as a small offering. He needed blessings and help whenever he could find them.

***

When it dawned on him that the ambush had not meant to capture the small party he led, but to lead them inside that dark, dead-end cave, it clicked.

This is is the great misfortune.

“FALL BACK!” he shouted. “GET OUT OF THE CAVE, NOW!”

But his soldiers couldn’t hear him as a blast shook the cave. A sound of explosions, falling boulders and sliding earth followed suit, and all the sudden it was pitch black.

***

There were thirty of them, some were injured, few critically. And a handful of horses.

Kojuro had had greater losses. Much greater. But he had always managed to scrape through.

He had a nagging feeling in the back of his head that told him he’s not so sure this time. He mustn’t let that uncertainty grow louder. He needed to strategise.

If it’s any consolation, Masamune was safe back in the camp.

“Do you think I can let them know that I’m not Masamune? Might be good for their morale,” Genya whispered next to him when he had finished taking stock of their trapped party.

“No. Not yet,” he whispered yet. “There must be a way out.”

***

There was not, a way out.

There was an underground river at the back of the cave though. So they had water…

They could butcher the horses for meat.

They had enough cloth to fight the dropping temperature at night.

They had oil and flint stone to make fire.

They had sustenance. But they had no way out.

And they had no way of letting the outside camp know. Not even to warn Masamune, who was now left without his eyes, his claws and his body double. The size of the Date army was of a small comfort, but Masamune was about to be severely disadvantaged.

He needed to find a way out.

***

Still no way out.

He had sent one of his men into the water, in case there was a way for them to swim out of the cave.

He had gone for quite a time Kojuro feared he had drowned. Then he resurfaced only to say that there was indeed a way out, but it was too small for anyone to swim through.

They decided to butcher one horse.

Kojuro shook his head lightly when Genya raised an eyebrow, repeating the question to reveal his identity.

No, not yet. There must be a way out. He would not so easily give up.

He had promised to return to her.

***

He woke up to find two of his injured men had succumbed to death in the freezing night.

They buried them under the rocks. He played a song that brought tears to some men’s eyes, and say some words to rekindle the fire in their soul.

They decided to butcher one more horse and drank the little sake they had left.

It must have been the third day.

The stale air began to take the stench of human waste.

Kojuro still shook his head to Genya’s unspoken question.

Exhausted, but unable to sleep, Kojuro thought he saw a pair of glowing eyes. He blinked, and it disappeared. He thought he heard a splash.

But all his men were accounted for. No one had been throwing himself into the river.

***

Fifth day. Two more men. Two more horses. The morale was declining.

They still closed their eyes and smiled when they hear his song. But he could see the exhaustion seeping into their bones. He could feel it in his own flesh.

He thought of his precious girl. He thought of Masamune. He thought of Shigezane and his injury. He hoped they were in a better state than his own.

But he still shook his head to Genya’s question. No, they are not at that point. He needed to keep his faith that there would be a way out before they got to that point.

The shinobi had ditched his Masamune impersonation, keeping only his tone of voice and his eyepatch. Kojuro let it slide. It was dark anyway – they had decided only to keep one torch lit.

The air was foul.

Kojuro told himself that it was a sign that they were still alive…

… not the stench of death coming for them.

***

Seventh day.

They had butchered all the horses, tearing apart their carcasses and preserved what they could.

He had dragged Genya to a secluded alcove and punched him for making a joke that maybe they would soon need to eat each other to stay alive. To his credit, the shinobi seemed to regret his words.

“Tomorrow,” Kojuro said, letting his grasp on Genya’s (Masamune’s) armour fall away. “We’ll tell them tomorrow,” he said to him before dismissing him to tend to his bruised cheek.

He still believed they would find a way out, but couldn’t ignore the little voice on the back of his head that said his men needed something to hold on to. They needed to know, at least, were they to be buried alive, that they had done so to save their lord and the Date clan.

He thought of Masamune, hoping that he had enough resources to clinch the victory.

He thought of Shigezane, hoping that his recovery back in Yonezawa went well – Masamune would need him more than ever if –

If…

No.

He would come back to her alive.

He had promised.

He wondered how much longer he could keep his exhaustion from showing.

***

Eighth day.

He didn’t sleep at all that night.

Hoping for the best, prepare for the worst. Everything happens for a reason. Didn’t he brace himself for a misfortune to come, seeing a string of good luck that had followed him around lately?

Prepare for the worst. That he must.

Rising the morale of his men had always come easily to him. This time, though, his throat wouldn’t work for a few long seconds before he managed to call them to gather round.

Have faith and know that your sacrifices have saved our lord and clan.

He meant to say that, like he had practised again and again inside his head.

But before he could.

A distant rumble, and the cave shook.

“Gunpowder!” Genya hissed next to him. Kojuro couldn’t tell if the shinobi was alarmed or excited. He could tell if he was either. At this point, any changes to their situation would be welcomed.

Another rumble, another shook, louder this time.

And another and another. Louder each time. Someone know they were there and trying to blast their way in.

Or so he thought, he hoped.

It could still be the enemy, could it?

No. It would be much more make sense for them to let us be buried alive.

Unless they wanted to take something? Masamune, perhaps? Genya’s cover hadn’t been blown, maybe to keep as hostages?

“STAY BACK!” he shouted to his men. “HOLD YOUR WEAPON AND STAY VIGILANT!”

The sunlight, when it came through the hole created by the last blast, was blinding. And when the crescent of Masamune’s war helmet emerged from the light, he knew that the loyalty of some twenty men behind him would be his forever. And he had never been prouder.

But soon a worrying thought dawned on him.

If his great misfortune had been repaid with this miraculous rescue, would he have to pay this one with an even greater trial?

***

He was exhausted, yes. But nothing so serious that would keep him from a debrief with Masamune. But his lord had banished him to his own tent and sent a small army of attendants to attend to him, from making sure all his scraps and cuts were taken care off, his belly filled with warm food and then, to prepare a hot bath in that strange gilded basin, a gift from the Western trader that Masamune had insisted on using and bringing with him everywhere, one of his very few rare indulgences.

The hot bath did wonders for his body, enough that he could enjoy a few hours of sleep. It was midnight when he woke up. And it didn’t take long for his restfulness to give way to restlessness. He took time to retrace the documents left on his desk. Nothing major. The important ones would be kept in Masamune’s tent following his absence.

And still, no more letters from her.

That familiar anxiety returned to his chest, beating its wings inside his ribcage.

He needed to do something to both take his mind off the worst scenario that kept popping inside his head and take him one step closer to returning home.

Just like that, he heard a commotion coming from Masamune’s tent.

“Fetch the physician!”

***

The wild dogs in the forest.

The startled horses.

The errant arrow.

The shoulder’s fist, and his pointy boots.

The falling boulder.

The underground river.

The cold.

Cats have nine lives. Didn’t Luis, or Fran said that to her once? She wondered if only Western cats have that many lives. Or if she, during the few weeks’ time between the Hachiman shrine and this camp, had truly squandered most of them.

She counted seven.

But maybe, she was mistaken. Maybe she had had eight. Maybe she had died more times that she remembered.

And that she was currently on her last one.

Masamune’s hands felt so good she could forget the dull ache radiating from the core of her small body.

“Does it hurt?” she heard him say.

She replied by nuzzling his palm, purring.

Masamune chuckled. His hands were so big and so gentle. So was his smile. If only, she thought, everyone can see this side of him, no one would follow him for other reason than love.

“You should go see him,” he said again.

No. She jerked. No. He mustn’t find out.

“Sssshhh, I will not tell, calm down,” he said again, tucking her back into his lap when he thought she was about to slink away. “Just focus on getting better. You did well. You saved them. You saved us.”

She closed her eyes and purred louder. Yes, that, that was worth everything. Even if death came for her soon, she would have no regret.

At least that what she thought. The furry body she currently occupied, on the other hand, seemed to disagree with her. She could hear its thought, whatever god it was that had been kind enough to lend her this tiny, resilient body with its sharp claws and teeth, it chided her, scratched her dulled minds to consciousness and clawed her back from sleepiness.

I’m sorry, I have disappointed you, have I not? I have squandered your lives, for my own selfish gain…

But thank you, truly…

The meowing sound turned louder inside her head, urgent, almost angry. But she was so drained, and it seemed so effortless to just let the darkness take over.

She heard her name, spoken by Masamune’s voice, echoing the urgency of the voice inside her head. She blinked, too weak to purr. Masamune called her again. She wished she could answer him. Yes. I am fine. Thank you. Thank you.

“Fetch the physician!”

That voice again, the low rattle of the thousand needles Masamune reserved only at the direst of situation.

I must be dying. Again.

***

Milord Kojuro-sama,

I am losing this battle. You said to me once, a wise general must be plan and hope for the best and prepare for the worst. I am no general but I am ashamed to admit that I am not sure what to prepare at this point in time. Of if a preparation meant I have no more faith in my ability to get better, like I told you I would. The doctor (I am tempted to call him a sourplum, like Shigezane-sama does, at this point) has barred me from the kitchen (too strenuous an activity a lady must not endure! I start to think everyone has forgotten my life in this castle as ‘Ýahiko’). I hated him for it, but I should like to quit before I earn the same reputation with food preparation as you do – if you would forgive me for a little joke. I have missed you so.

The sourplum (I gave in) told me I might lose my ability to write soon. He didn’t say it in so many words (he thinks of as a ‘delicate lady’ who should avoid a messy affair like writing and just let a clerk read to me), but I can read between the lines much better than when I came to serve the clan. You’ve taught me how to. I would probably frown upon my shoddy penmanship. For that I shall retire for now. I will still be writing. But you may find this book not quite so filled up like the previous one upon your return.

But I will gladly talk your ear off with all the boring things happening to me during your absence. How I (and you little turtle Bontenmaru, who has been my steadfast companion to whom I pour my heart out) long to hear your voice and your music and feel your touch. I pray for your safe return. And in my ability to heal.

***

It was like hearing her own words in her own voice – young, sometimes wry and admonishing but never for long, for deep down she is a sunny and forgiving soul he had come to adore with all his being. The last entry in her journal had started with a sombre note, but gave no sign of surrender at the end.

The penmanship was considerably clumsier than her last letter to him. How much had her condition worsened after this she wrote this?

Words choked on his throat and his eyes stung.

“Precious girl,” he managed.

A soft mewl came from the bundle of fur on his chest.

He had run to Masamune’s tent following that commotion for fetching a physician, expecting the worse. Had Masamune been hurt? Poisoned? Enemy shinobi? The fact that Tanaka had made an aborted move to block him from entering Masamune’s tent had made him suspicious.

But never, in his life, he would have thought to walk into something so strange. Masamune, visibly panicking. But not for his own life. At a glance, he had appeared to be unharmed. He had looked distressed.

And before he could ask him what’s wrong, he had noticed the bundle he had been clutching.

He would have recognized that cat anywhere.

The first and the only cat who had ever taken a liking to him.

The physician had been visibly miffed when he had arrived to have the Lord Date ordered him to tend to his pet. But Masamune’s glare had been enough to silence whatever resentment he might have harboured. But in the end, he only shook his head. The cat could live or die, it’s all in the hands of the gods now. Best to keep her warm.

Kojuro had sat in silence in one corner of the room then, trying to make sense of the situation. The sheer impossibility of the situation had made it difficult for him to see the whole picture even when that voice at the back of his mind had been faster in guessing it.

She came to see you, idiot.

To be with you.

In whatever form she can.

A cat.

In another situation he would have admired her resourcefulness, her using a seemingly useless family heirloom. But the cat had been dying.

“Read it.”

Masamune had thrust her journal into his hands then and turned back to quiz the physician.

He had read the last entry, written by her hand. And he had read a letter slipped between the journal’s pages. He had recognized his elder sister handwriting, pleading “Bontenmaru-sama” to take care of this cat that he knows so well, for Kojuro’s sake. And to keep her a secret, as she does not wish to spend her days in pain, and away from Kojuro. And if it must be, she would assume all the blame for allowing her to go through with such an outrageous plan.

His first reaction had been to rage, to indeed blame his sister for fulfilling his girl’s utterly foolish wish.

But then Masamune had handed her that bundle of fur, all curled up and seemingly sleeping, into his hands, and his heart had shattered into pieces.

“She didn’t want you to see her like this, or turn her back to her broken body that has become her cage. But I convinced her that you deserve to have a say in it.”

So there they were, inside Masamune’s tent, warmed by the burning fireplace.The One-Eyed Dragon had mumbled an excuse and left the space to them.

Still reeling from the conflicting emotions churning inside his chest, Kojuro curled up around her, keeping her warm and close enough that he could feel her laboured breathing.

“My precious girl,” he said again, feeling his heart broken anew when her ears perked up and she cracked her eyes open.

She mewled softly. It sounded like a complaint.

He smiled, “I’ve been such a fool.”

***

No, she thought. No, please don’t blame yourself.

She knew he’s going to think this way. It had been one of the good reasons she didn’t want to reveal herself to him.

“I respect your decision to keep yourself a secret from Kojuro. But I too, owe him the truth. You are his happiness. Therefore, I command you to reveal yourself to him.”

Spoken like a true lord of the clan. What else could she do but to obey her lord, her lord’s lord, to be exact? But that had been a lie. She had been exhausted. And yes, she had missed Kojuro. Dying in Masamune’s lap after being commended for saving the clan was not bad. But the truth was, she had missed the Dragon’s Claw terribly. It had been such a torture to shadow him, see him, hear him, watch him over, without being able to reveal herself.

So, there she was, curled up in bed with her beloved lord. Just not in the way they had used to.

“My precious girl.”

She had always loved his hands. Much larger than her own, they are rough with callouses and graceful at the same time. They’ve written the most beautiful words, played the most beautiful notes from reeds and flutes… and coaxed the strangest sounds from her own body. Oh, how she longed for his touches.

Seemingly sensing this, he gingerly touched her with his fingers. Tentative, gentle strokes, on her head, along her spine. Then, when she nuzzled into his palm, he scooted closer and petted her in earnest.

Oh, that feels lovely.

She purred. And he made a sound that was half a chuckle and half a sob.

Oh, no. She mewled. This is not your fault.

“I had an inkling, that something was happening, all the small things…”

Mmmm, yes. I did good, didn’t I, milord? It’s strange, this elated feeling that sprung from inside of her. It was hers but it was something else’s too, the cat’s own.

“My food.”

Mmm, the camp cook did a decent job, she thought. But she could do so much better.

“And the absence of rats…”

They were foul. But they sated the tiny little cat god inside her body.

“That enemy scout.”

His boots had been shard. But her claws and teetch were sharper.

“You were in that cave with me, weren’t you?”

Yes, yes, I was.

“I thought I was seeing things, hearing things… I thought my own mind was haunting me. I thought of you and what if I fail our promise.”

She pawed weakly at his hand. She shared the fear of failing to fulfil their promise, too.

“But you didn’t let me.” He cupped her head, stroking the markings between her eyes reverently with his thumb. She’s such a beautiful cat like she is a beautiful woman. “I heard a splash that night. You swam out, didn’t you? You let Masamune know where we were trapped.”

Yes, I would have died a thousand deaths and I would still do it for you. She mewled.

He sobbed. “I miss hearing your voice.”

It hurt, the sadness and the hint of fear in his voice, usually so calm and gentle.

His lips, so close to her face, were dry and cracked.

If she could lean a bit further and give him a kiss, she could turn back and let him hear her…

But then, could she? Let him hear the voice he had loved so much? Her human body had not been hale and healthy for a while… who could say she would turn back to her human body and sound, look, the way she had been? The multiple deaths she had experienced in this borrowed little body, would those have an effect on her human body? Who could say? Not even the tiny other presence inside her body could answer.

So she touched his lips with her paws instead.

I love you. I love you.

He took her paw between his fingers, gently squeezing them. His eyes were bloodshot, the crow’s feet around them made him looked tired instead of distinguished.

“I have been a harsh taskmaster, have I not?”

No, no, you have been the best teacher, the best lover I could possibly have.

“I would have failed our promise if it weren’t for you. I should have – I should have –“

She felt helpless. She knew something like this would happen. This man was hopeless. He would blame himself and take responsibility for every misfortune that befalls the clan on his worst days.

She licked his finger and mewled and purred.

What would you do without me?

“What would I do without you?” He laughed. It sounded strange between his sobs. “You’re such a sweet cat, but remember when I told you I liked you much better in your human form?”

Ah… He was bargaining, this infuriating man. If she had the energy and her human form, she would have shaken her head.

“I remember when you woke me up that morning, hale and healthy, with lips so red, the most tempting lips I have ever seen in my life…”

Yes, she remembered waking up naked, clinging to him, after they unknowingly broken the curse the previous day by kissing. She remembered feeling so relieved she leapt out and got dressed and put on the rouge he bought for her. The rouge she had smeared on Kojuro’s lips soon after. The rouge that had kept them in bed until well past noon that day. The rouge they would forever associate with gentle morning, heated tangle of limbs and sounds, and messy bedding.

“I would give my own life to have that morning again.”

Oh, my precious man…

“You asked me to trust you to take care of yourself in my absence.”

She mewled, she knew where this was going.

“Don’t you think it will be fair if I ask you,” he paused, seemingly coming to a silent decision, “If I ask you to trust me that I can take care of you, in whatever state you might be if you turn back?”

Oh, my dear lord. I do not wish to impose upon you so….

And in her heart of hearts, she was selfish. He did not want his memory of her eroded and reduced down to taking care of an invalid.

“I am a selfish man.”

Like I am a selfish woman.

“I don’t want to let go of you. I am asking you to take the risk of turning back. Just so I can feel you in my arms again.”

No.

“To hear you telling me about your beautiful mundane days.”

That’s not fair.

“To hear you berate me yet again for making such a mess of my room.”

But you know this would happen. This would happen if you let him see you. He would bargain, he would negotiate, he would. You know this. She berated herself.

“To feel the warmth of your skin and your lips as I drag you into my bedding as you try to wake me up from my sleep.”

She meowed. Stop.

“Take the risk for me?”

Stop.

“Let me share your pain.”

Don’t do this to my resolve.

“I love you.”

I love you, therefore you must let me go.

Even her cat body would not listen. She had no strength left to run. And damn this man, she couldn’t bear to disappoint him even now, when she should have made everything simple by going away.

So she nuzzled his lips.

And hoped.

***

Few things inspired this fic, mainly elements from Kojuro’s My Eternal Love Story ES (where MC is diagnosed with beriberi) and the Seductive Superstition ES Epilogue (where MC is turned int a cat by Katakura family’s magical manekineko and turned back into a human with a kiss).

Also, I imagine the cat like the bakeneko featured in the bakeneko arc of the anime series Ayakashi (the Bakeneko arc is so beautifully drawn it remains a few anime that had made me cry).

Also, a 2014 artwork ‘Warrior takes armoured cat for a walk’ (着甲武人猫散歩逍遥図) by Noguchi Tetsuya.

There will be a smutty epilogue. Fingers crossed. My masterpost is here.

#2017slbpholidayexchange #princeanderfels #katakura kojuro #kojuro #slbp kojuro #samurai love ballad party #slbp #submission

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diyunho · 7 years

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The Joker x Reader - “Unexpected”

The two main departments in the Shadow World are always competing: “Villains That Hate Each Other” division wants villains to detest their peers, while “Match Made In Hell” agency wants villains to fall in love. Very competitive departments, always fighting to steal the glory from one another. And the rivalry is about to escalate since the infamous Joker and notorious Y/N don’t even know they are about to change the balance in the Underworld. If it only was that easy…

“Hello, Mister Joker,” you greet as you enter the room set up for the meeting at his hideout near Gotham’s Art Museum. As soon as your eyes meet his, your heart is beating faster:

Ughh, you can’t stand him.

“Hm, if it’s not my favorite person on the planet,” J growls, irritated Dixon is sending his daughter to negotiate… again. As soon as he sees that smug expression on your face, his heart is beating faster:

Ughh, he totally detests you.

In the Shadow World, the alarm starts blaring almost instantly: “Villains That Hate Each Other” department is in absolute chaos !

“Are you kidding me?!” the oldest entity screams with frustration. “ What the hell is going on?!”

The Dark Shadow is in charge of this esteemed division and not happy for the moment: he is watching the “Hate Statistics” concerning the infamous Joker and notorious Y/N going down with alarming velocity.

The other subordinates gathered around, astound at the emergency: two villains that are supposed to despise one another forever are beginning to gravitate towards the opposite.

“Ummm, I don’t think it’s looking good sir,” one of the Shadows points out the obvious and the boss retaliates.

“I can see that, you idiot!” he snaps, infuriated. “ Did something trigger this?!”

“Nothing in particular sir; the feeling is just growing stronger within both of them,” the youngest Shadow informs. “ Every time Y/N sees The Joker, she thinks she hates him, but she’s actually falling in love: she doesn’t know the difference. Same with The Joker: every time he sees Y/N he thinks he hates her but he’s actually falling for the woman; he doesn’t know the difference. “

“Absolutely horrible and unacceptable !” the venerable elder huffs, displeased. “We can’t lose them in favor of the other department !”

He is surely talking about the “Match Made In Hell” Division that pairs up villains: The Dark Shadows working there wanted you and The Joker together since you were born.

The two departments are always competing: “Villains That Hate Each Other” section wants villains to detest their peers, while “Match Made In Hell” wants villains to fall in love. Very competitive divisions, always fighting to steal the glory from one another.

“What are we going to do, Your Darkness?” the second in command asks.

“Not sure…” the leader debates. “Let’s see how it goes today and we’ll go from there. One thing is sure: we can’t lose them to the other department!” he sneers, annoyed with the excited screams coming from “Match Made In Hell” quarters: The Shadows there are celebrating, watching the “Love Statistics” for you and The Joker going up; they hoped that would happen for years!!!

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

You ignore J’s remark, taking a sit in the chair in front of him.

The King of Gotham analyzes that perfect tailored suit you’re wearing: black pants and red jacket, staring at your cleavage for a few seconds without even realizing. A little bit of your lacy bra shows and for some reason it’s hypnotizing. I mean, he saw plenty of bras before but… “E-hem, “ you interrupt his thoughts, fake coughing since you noticed his eyes glaring at your boobs. “I think I bumped into your girlfriend on my way inside. Such a sweet, adorable girl,” you grin and realize he’s still gazing towards that captivating piece of bra stiking out on top of your low cut red jacket.

Sicko, you bite your lower lip and move in your sit in order to distract him.

The King of Gotham is finally paying attention and those intense blue eyes make you nervously bite on your cheek.

“Yeah, she’s soooo sweet,” he smirks, arrogant and full of himself.

“I guess you like sweet girls?” you sarcastically laugh and his smirk transforms into a frown.

“Excuse me?” J sucks on his teeth, considering twisting your neck until it snaps.

“I always see you with these obedient, little cute things,” you chuckle, not knowing why he’s getting on your nerves. “Don’t you actually want to work for it? Feels more rewarding, I’m telling you,” you cross your legs, concluding he definitely needs some love advice.

“Work for what?” the grouchy tone inquires.

“Ahhh, you know what I’m talking about,” you wink, amused.

“Why, you’re volunteering for a trial?” the even more bitter voice echoes in your ears.

“Not at all!” God forbids! you think, appalled. Me and him?! Yuck!

“Then why are you bringing that up?” he taps his fingers on his cane, the corners of his mouth lifted in a very entitled smile.

“Just making conversation, Mister Joker,” you sigh, realizing your eyes have been lingering around his abs and that almost unbuttoned shirt for too long.

His skin must be sooo soft, you catch yourself thinking while licking your lips. Oh, ewww, who cares?! you snap out of it, mad at your dumb self.

“Well then, let’s get down to business,” J impatiently blurs out. “How much is your father willing to pay for…”

“Misssterrrrrr Jaaaaaayyyyyyyyyy,” is heard on the hallway. “Miiiiisssterrr Jaaaaayyyyyy,” the whining gets closer.

The Joker’s left eye is twitching.

The screechy voice resonates one more time:

“Miiiiiisteeeerr Jaaaaaaaaayyyy, are you still here?”

He cringes and it makes you tilt your head with delight:

“I think your little girlfriend is back; yet you don’t seem excited,” and Y/N making fun of that right under his nose prompts the Clown Prince of Crime to growl:

“Shut up, woman and mind your own business!”

“I would if I could but that adorable girl is very distracting. How can we take care of our business if she snatches you away?“ you rightfully declare, changing the meaning of his words.” Men are helpless,” you get off your chair, stepping towards him. ”You need my expertise?” and the mischievous twinkle in your eyes creates a sudden surge of evilness within him also.

The Joker giving you a psychotic stare counts as approval: he needs a hand but too proud to ask.

What is she doing? J watches you, puzzled.

You take a deep breath and a seductive moan escapes your throat:

“Oh my Gooood, yeesss! Oh, Gooood, don’t stop!”

The Joker is taken aback by your provocative screams.

“Ahhh! Oh yes, that’s the spot, baby! Ahhhh, keep going Daddy!” you bend over and kiss him, then smear the red lipstick on his chin, pull on his shirt until his shoulders are completely exposed.

“Misssterrrrr Jaaayyyy,” his girlfriend knocks at the door, trying to open it. It’s always closed during negotiations because J doesn’t like his meetings interrupted. “What’s going on in there?” she frets, attempting to pry the door open.

“Oh, God, it feels so goooood”, you unbutton your jacket and toss it on the floor, panting and breathing really loud. You lower the straps of your bra in a hurry, unzipping his pants and yours too. J doesn’t stop you; he just enjoys the little show and how perfectly you fake it. “Ah, I think I’m close baby!”

More screams and moaning.

He doesn’t make a sound when you mess up his green hair; not a single protest against your action and he hates people touching his perfect locks.

You mess up your hair also, get a leg out of your pants and slowly limp towards the door with your compromising attire, while screaming so the girl can hear it.

You count up to 20 then open the door; she is banging at the heavy oak with her fists and gasps when she sees you like that.

You calmly blow the hair off your face, pulling up your underwear.

“What do you want?” you bark, moving out of the way so she can see The Joker peeled out of his shirt, sarcastically grinning.

“That’s …t-that’s my boyfriend!! “ she stutters, vexed to discover such atrocity unfolding in his office.

“So?! Wait for your turn, girl !” you huff, still panting. “I was almost there and you interrupted! That’s unacceptable!”

“W-what?! “

“ I don’t like my sexcapades coming at an abrupt halt because people can’t wait for their turn !” you lift your boobs in your bra, cracking your back in the process. “He’s mine for the next hour; come back afterwards!” and slam the door in her face, waiting.

“Miiisssstteerrrr Jaaaaaaayyyyyy,” the unbearable voice cries, “This is the last straw!!! I’ve tolerated enough!!! Do you hear me?! I am out of here and don’t try to stop me!”

You roll your eyes and hear his girlfriend stomp on the wooded floor, silence taking over afterwards.

“There, done. You’re welcome,” you nonchalantly dress up, getting in your pants again and picking up your jacket, buttoning up the silver clasps. ”Jesus, that voice she has!” you shiver, over exaggerating a bit.

“That was really good,” The Joker praises, fixing himself up. “You’re a good faker, you know that?”

“U-hum,” you agree, reprising your position on the chair in front of The King of Gotham.

“You have to do this pretty often?” he reaches for the cane and grabs it from the floor.

“Nope. As a rule, I never fake it: if a man can’t satisfy me, I am not going to strike his ego just because. No point in that,” the honest response makes J chuckle.

“I meant helping men getting rid of unwanted girlfriends,” he scratches his arm, eager to finish the negotiations after the eventful evening. “Back to business?”

“Of course,” you agree, just like nothing happened.

“You want something to drink?” The Joker offers and you nod a no.

“I’m good, thanks. OK, my father offers half a million dollars for the merchandise,” you bluntly bring the news to the King of Gotham.

“I want double,” J grumbles, certain he can get it.

“Half a million, Mister J.”

“NO, double!”

You stare at each other, visibly annoyed.

“Seven hundred thousand,” you cut him some slack, aware his merchandise is very good quality.

“One million!” he fights back.

“Seven fifty and you’re taking me to dinner!”

“Deal!” he is fast to agree before you finish. “Wait, what?!”

“You owe me and I’m hungry. Let’s go!” you signal him, getting up again.

“Not so fast ! I answered before debating!” J attempts to get out of it.

You open the door and turn around, exhaling.

“We’ll give you eight hundred thousand, alright? And you are still taking me to dinner!”

“I want a million!”

“Fine! “ you yell, irritated by how stubborn and obnoxious The Joker is all the time.

That’s why you can’t stand him.

“You’re still taking me to dinner! Tonight would be nice, Mister Joker. Come on, hurry up!” you almost get out of the office and he won’t budge.

“I need a few moments,” he mumbles.

“WHY?!” you almost shout, angered.

“I can’t walk properly; you got me all aroused with that terrific performance of yours. The effects are still lingering,” a not very enthusiastic Joker admits.

“Are you serious?” you cross your arms on your chest, antagonized.

“Yeap.”

“I don’t have time for this,” you step inside the room again, locking the door. “I want to go out and I can’t afford to wait until the effects of my show will naturally go away. We’ll just have to get it out of your system now,” you start undressing… again, this time for reals.

J is savoring the striptease, reckoning that even if he hates you, the night turned in his favor: he got his million, got rid of his girlfriend and he’s apparently going to have sex anyway.

I’m so amazing, he thinks, wrapping his arms around your waist when you straddle his lap.

You enjoy undressing him, realizing that even if you hate J, the night turned in your favor: you had fun, got the confirmation of your awesome manipulating abilities and you’re going to have sex on top of it.

Not too bad for two people detesting each other.

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

You enter the restaurant, closely followed by The Joker. The waiter greets both of you, straining not to glare like an idiot at the two regular guests. Why?

Because The Clown Prince of Crime and Y/N seem they just escaped some kind of war: J has his lip busted and scratches standing out on his pale skin, not that he tries to hide it; his shirt is still unbuttoned but at least he can walk normal.

You have hickeys and bites all over your neck and cleavage and some other places for sure, not that you try to hide it: you’re not using a scarf or anything. Why bother? At least made it to dinner on time and that’s what you wanted.

Once you are sited at the table, you scrawl through the menu, not sure on what you crave.

“That was fun,” you open the conversation, reading through the pages of options.

“Did you fake it?” J casually brings it up since his pride is at stake, scrolling through his menu.

“I told you I don’t bother. If you heard any sounds coming out of me, they were genuine,” you smack your lips, his taste lingering in the back of your mind. “What about you? Did you fake it?”

“I purr and groan a storm only if I’m into it,” he explains, quickly glancing your way.“So if you heard any sounds coming out of me, they were authentic.”

“You did purr and groan a lot,” you smile, remembering how loud J was.

“Maybe I did, but your screams were deafening,” he snorts and it rubs you the wrong way.

“You were louder!”

“No, you were!” he defends his actions.

“You’re so cocky, you know that?!” you give him a mean stare and he returns the favor:

“And you’re atrocious, woman! I never want to see you again!”

“See me again?! Ha ! I would be insane to do that again!” you sulk, wanting to leave but you’re hungry.

The Joker feels the need to be a jerk but instead what comes out his mouth is this:

“Same time tomorrow then?”

“Yes,” you grouchily reply, not being able to concentrate on the food choices since your answer bothers the hell out of you.

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

“Villains That Hate Each Other” and “Match Made In Hell” departments are stunned: The Joker’s and Y/N names are now showing in both divisions. The “Hate Statistics” and “Love Statistics” keep going up and down, but the names stay on the boards for both sectors.

It’s the first time in The Shadow World when two competitive agencies are not divided but united by their villains: the two humans love and hate each other in the same time with such ferocity it’s impossible to break the connection.

And nobody can say they’re faking it.