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bloody-bee-tea · 3 years

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Tattoo

Jiang Cheng decides to get his first tattoo the night he resolves to move out.

There has been a huge fight—yet again—where his father was more concerned with talking about Wei Wuxian, who wasn’t even part of this fight, and where his mother listed every single inadequacy Jiang Cheng apparently had.

And it’s enough.

He’s tired of feeling like shit in his own home and he’s tired of being made to feel like shit and he wants a change.

Which is going to start with him getting a tattoo.

His parents hate tattoos—one of the few things they can agree upon—and Jiang Cheng feels a little thrill going down his back just thinking about getting one.

But soon thinking about it turns into actively imagining, then into planning, and all of a sudden he finds himself in front of a tattoo studio.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t go in that first day; he simply can’t bring himself to. But then he spends another evening in the icy company of his parents, who are no longer speaking to him in the misguided attempt to make him apologize and Jiang Cheng decides that this is it.

He’ll get that tattoo and then he’ll get out of here.

Jiang Cheng goes back to the tattoo studio the next day, and this time he also enters. It’s not at all what he expected to look like, but he scolds himself for even thinking that. Clearly his parents and all their prejudices are way too prevalent in his life if he expected dirty corners and suspicious people everywhere.

What he sees are clean counters, tasteful pics of tattoos and not much else.

Until the most beautiful human being Jiang Cheng has ever seen steps out of a room.

“Hi, there,” the man says and Jiang Cheng does not swoon on the spot. “Do you have an appointment?”

Jiang Cheng slightly shakes his head to clear it and then he squares up.

“No, I don’t. I’d like to make one, though.”

“Alright. Sit for a moment,” the man says, pointing at a couch and then vanishing again.

Jiang Cheng does sit down, unbearably nervous now that he made that very first step and he wrings his hands in his lap. He’s so lost in his own head that he doesn’t even notice when the guy comes back.

“First time?” the guy asks as he puts a glass of water down in front of Jiang Cheng, who nods and gratefully takes the glass to take a sip.

“Yeah. That obvious?” he asks with a small smile and the guy shrugs.

“You get an eye for it, after a while. Nie Mingjue,” he then introduces himself and Jiang Cheng puts the glass back down so that he doesn’t notice how much his hands shake.

“Jiang Cheng.”

“Alright, Jiang Cheng, what do you want?” Nie Mingjue asks, a sketchbook making an appearance and Jiang Cheng swallows heavily.

“Just something small,” Jiang Cheng whispers. “Something I can hide away.”

At that Nie Mingjue pauses.

“I don’t make tattoos that have to be hidden away,” he cautiously says, already closing the sketchbook again.

“Yeah, well, I’m not asking for your opinion here,” Jiang Cheng snaps back before he clenches his jaw and scrubs a hand over his face. “I apologize,” he tacks on, much more quietly, as he gets up. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Wait,” Nie Mingjue says, sighing himself. “That was unprofessional of me. I just think—this is art, you know. Something you chose for yourself, something you should be proud of. That’s just usually how this goes. But if it’s private, then that’s perfectly fine. I didn’t mean to be an ass.”

Jiang Cheng slowly sinks back down into the couch at those words and Nie Mingjue opens his sketchbook again.

“Alright,” he slowly says. “I want three little dog paw prints on my hip.”

He didn’t give this too much thought, honestly, but it feels right. It’s been years since he had to give his dogs away for Wei Wuxian’s sake and while he’s not mad at Wei Wuxian for that, he does resent his parents for it.

They were just puppies. There was a chance for Wei Wuxian to get acquainted with dogs that didn’t mean him harm. They could have given them to someone close by, so that Jiang Cheng could have gone there to see them every now and then.

But they didn’t do any of these things and just took the only friends away from Jiang Cheng he had at that time.

He is still resentful about that.

“Like this?” Nie Mingjue asks and shows him the sketch he quickly did.

It’s really just those three paw prints, nothing fancy about it, and Jiang Cheng thinks it’s perfect.

“Yes,” he breathes out and he can’t wait for them to be on his skin.

“This will be quick and I have time now, if you want,” Nie Mingjue offers him and that makes Jiang Cheng freeze.

He did not expect this to happen so soon, but after a moment he finds that it’s the only thing he wants.

“Yes,” he decisively says and Nie Mingjue smiles at him.

Jiang Cheng did not need to know that he has dimples.

“Good,” he nods, before he falls into what Jiang Cheng suspects to be the customary first client talk.

Jiang Cheng does his best to listen and nod at the right moments, but he is distracted by Nie Mingjue and the way he talks and moves and sounds.

In the end Nie Mingjue still seems to be satisfied, because he leads Jiang Cheng towards one of the back rooms where he asks him to take his pants off.

Jiang Cheng freezes again because he did not quite make that connection yet, but of course he’d have to at least take of his pants for this. He sheds them quickly, not looking at Nie Mingjue and reminding himself that he must see this several times a day and that surely Jiang Cheng is nothing special.

He barely realizes that his hands are shaking.

“Are you okay?” Nie Mingjue lowly asks him, clearly picking up on Jiang Cheng’s nerves and Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what to answer him.

In the end, the truth comes spilling out.

“No,” he admits. “My parents are going to disown me for this, should they ever find out. I mean they are going to disown me either way once I move out, but—yeah,” he finishes awkwardly once he realizes that he’s rambling because Nie Mingjue absolutely did not sign up to hear about Jiang Cheng’s fucked up life.

“Are you safe at home?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng catches him quickly checking him over as if he’s looking for bruises.

“Physically yes,” Jiang Cheng gives back as his eyes start to burn. “Emotionally not so much,” he adds in a whisper, admitting to this for the first time out loud, and he sways into Nie Mingjue when he clasps his shoulder.

“But you’re taking steps,” he says and it’s not a question.

“I’m taking steps,” Jiang Cheng agrees and finally gets on the cot, ready to get this first rebellious step done.

“Good,” Nie Mingjue says, clearly still worried, but also satisfied and when he starts the tattoo gun they don’t talk much more.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is struggling. He feels isolated and lonely and like his parents scathing silence is going to suffocate him one of these days, even after he moved out, and there’s only one thing Jiang Cheng can think of doing.

He finds himself back at Nie Mingjue’s tattoo studio.

“Back so soon,” Nie Mingjue greets him with and Jiang Cheng realizes that it has only been three months since he got the paw prints.

It feels like so much longer, with everything that happened.

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng awkwardly says and sinks down in the couch again. “I want something bigger.”

“Something you can’t hide,” Nie Mingjue replies, even as he sits down with his sketchbook. “How is that situation going?”

“I moved out. I’m not talking to my parents. But—” he trails off, unsure if he should really just unload all of his bullshit on this stranger.

“But there’s a lot of shit to unlearn and figure out for yourself, especially if this has been going on for a while,” Nie Mingjue says with an understanding nod and when Jiang Cheng stares at him, Nie Mingjue shrugs awkwardly.

“My brother has an interest in psychology and he loves using me as his sounding board. It only got worse when he took up some classes at university.”

“Ah, I see,” Jiang Cheng says and then sighs. “I’m deciding if it’s worth going to see someone,” he then admits lowly and cringes immediately afterwards. “I’m sorry, this is not what I’m here for and it’s absolutely not your job to listen to me.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised how many people see this as a therapy session,” Nie Mingjue gives back, and while Jiang Cheng would usually recoil at that, it doesn’t sound judging.

“But I’m here for this,” Jiang Cheng says and puts a slip of paper on the table.

He’s by no means an artist, but he has always enjoyed doodling and he’s perfectly capable of designing his own tattoo, especially when he gives it more than just a few days thought.

“That is bigger,” Nie Mingjue says with a raised eyebrow as he picks the paper up. “Much more difficult to hide.”

“No more hiding,” Jiang Cheng resolutely says. “I want it to curl around my arm, the head on the back of my hand.”

“Really big then. From shoulder to hand?”

“Yes.”

“Mh,” Nie Mingjue hums as he starts to sketch something.

When he turns the sketchbook to Jiang Cheng it’s still the snake and nothing fundamentally has changed, but it still looks better than the basic design Jiang Cheng came up with.

He itches with the need to get this on his arm.

“Yes,” he breathes out, reaching out to brush his hand over the sketch. “Please.”

“You’ll need an appointment for this one,” Nie Mingjue says as he gets up to schedule Jiang Cheng in.

It takes Nie Mingjue three sessions to get the snake done and Jiang Cheng loves it more than he thought possible.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng takes his time for the third tattoo. He takes his time to get used to living alone, takes his time to figure out if he really wants to go for a business degree and most importantly, he takes his time to get back together with his siblings.

They didn’t quite fall out when Jiang Cheng moved out, but he kept his distance for a while and now he doesn’t.

Now he welcomes them into his home and his new life and he sits Wei Wuxian down to have a real talk; one where he doesn’t allow Wei Wuxian to laugh everything away—either his own pain or Jiang Cheng’s—and afterwards they feel like family again.

Jiang Cheng briefly debates if he wants to do the same with his parents, but he finds that he couldn’t care less.

He can barely think about them without getting angry or nauseous or both and he figures it’s not worth it. Not now and maybe not ever.

So instead of wasting more thoughts on that Jiang Cheng finds himself back at Nie Mingjue’s studio.

“It does get quite addicting, doesn’t it?” Nie Mingjue asks him with a smirk when Jiang Cheng steps inside and Jiang Cheng shrugs.

“Especially when you finally figure your life out for yourself,” he gives back and he has to admit that for the first time he’s not nervous as he sits down on the couch.

He knows what he wants and he knows what to expect.

It leaves him time to appreciate Nie Mingjue, though, and that makes Jiang Cheng’s stomach flutter.

There are tattoos on Nie Mingjue as well; making their way down his arms and one peeking out of the collar of his shirt. Jiang Cheng finds that he wants to see all of them.

“Okay, hit me,” Nie Mingjue says as he sits down as well and Jiang Cheng gives him his sketch.

Three lotus pods for him and his siblings. Jiang Cheng does only have good memories of them picking lotus seeds, and especially of Jiang Yanli’s soup.

“Next you’re going to learn how to tattoo yourself and then I’ll be out of a job,” Nie Mingjue grumbles as he takes the sketch and Jiang Cheng smiles with pride.

He did put an awful lot of work into this.

“I want it on my calf,” he tells Nie Mingjue who nods.

“Easy enough, but you need an appointment.”

“Sure,” Jiang Cheng shrugs and his eyes drop to Nie Mingjue’s hands, which are still holding his sketch.

Honestly, Jiang Cheng did not expect his heart to beat faster at that, or the thought that Nie Mingjue will put his hands on Jiang Cheng’s skin soon enough but he’s not going to stop it either.

The pods don’t take much time at all once the appointment comes around, and soon enough Jiang Cheng is stepping out on the street with one tattoo more.

It feels like he’s reclaiming bits and pieces of himself with every tattoo that he gets and he honestly doesn’t want it to stop.

It’s only a little bit because he wants to continue seeing Nie Mingjue.

~*~*~

“You’re going to be a regular soon,” Nie Mingjue says with a smile when Jiang Cheng steps into the by now so familiar studio yet again and he frowns, affronted.

“It’s my fourth time. How much more do I have to come by to be considered a regular?”

“Well, the true regulars drop by just to say hello, too,” Nie Mingjue says, clearly trying for nonchalant but Jiang Cheng sees the tension in his shoulders.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, but he still sits down on the couch. “But today I’m here for an appointment.”

“Do I even need to bring my sketchbook?” Nie Mingjue asks, clearly remembering that there was nothing for him to do the last time Jiang Cheng came by but Jiang Cheng nods.

“I just have an idea. I need you to draw it.”

“Oh, alright,” Nie Mingjue says, and is quick to retrieve the book before he sits down. “What do you want?”

“I want water, or waves, under my collarbone,” Jiang Cheng says and points at the spot.

It hasn’t been that long since he started to swim again, but he already knows that it will be a big part of his life from now on.

Jiang Cheng used to love it, until his parents made it into a competition between him and Wei Wuxian and pressured him to do better and better. Jiang Cheng stopped after one too many silver medals and he never picked it up again, too afraid of falling back into old habits, of feeling like shit for doing something just for fun, no matter how much he loved it.

But he picked swimming up again, and it turns out he’s still good and he still loves it. Even more now that he can just do it for fun and challenge himself if he feels like it.

And he wants a tattoo for it as well. It’s another piece of himself he reclaimed after all.

“Like so?” Nie Mingjue asks, showing Jiang Cheng the rough sketch.

It’s a little bit too stylized for Jiang Cheng’s taste and he tells Nie Mingjue so, who turns the page and starts again.

When he shows Jiang Cheng the new sketch, it looks more realistic and it’s exactly what Jiang Cheng wants.

“Yes,” he breathes out and smiles.

That one feels just as right as his other tattoos had.

“Water, huh?” Nie Mingjue asks, quite awkwardly Jiang Cheng thinks but he smiles at Nie Mingjue.

“I recently re-found my love for swimming,” he tells him. “It helps that my parents are not yelling at me to win a gold medal.”

“Did you use to? Win gold medals?”

“No. My brother did though, which both my parents used to rub in, in very different way. I stopped because they made me dread going into the water but now that I’m just doing it for fun,” he awkwardly trails off. “I still love it.”

“That’s good to hear,” Nie Mingjue tells him and Jiang Cheng is surprised when Nie Mingjue squeezes his shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you do look better. Definitely happier than the first time you came in.”

It makes Jiang Cheng flush, because he didn’t know that it had been that bad or that Nie Mingjue had been paying attention to him.

“I am. Better. Still on the way with a lot of things, but definitely better,” Jiang Cheng gives back and he tries very hard not to think about the fact that he still doesn’t know what he wants to do with his future or if he wants to get a dog, despite Wei Wuxian’s fear, or if he’ll ever be man enough to ask Nie Mingjue out on a date.

But slow steps. First he gets this tattoo and then he can think about what comes after.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng never gave much thought to his sexuality beyond the fact that it wouldn’t matter who he brings home; his parents were surely going to hate them, just because it was Jiang Cheng who introduced them.

He had looked at a few boys during school, but his mother had made it very clear that Jiang Cheng was going to get married to a business woman of her choosing, producing heirs for the company as soon as he could, and Jiang Cheng didn’t think much beyond that except ‘Fuck no’.

But now he has time to re-evaluate his sexuality and while he would probably label himself as bisexual at the moment he’s very definitely Nie Mingjue-sexual.

Not that he’s ever going to mention that to the man himself.

He’s standing in front of the tattoo studio yet again, even though he doesn’t have plans for a new tattoo yet. But Nie Mingjue had said regulars came by whenever, and Jiang Cheng wants to have that connection with Nie Mingjue.

He just can’t bring himself to make the first step.

So instead of going in, he walks up and down on the other side of the studio, berating himself that he just can’t bring himself to do it, but just as he is about to turn around and go home, Nie Mingjue steps out and walks straight up to him.

“Nervous?” Nie Mingjue asks with a teasing smile and Jiang Cheng deflates.

“I’m not quite sure how to make friends,” he admits and then wishes the ground would swallow him, because Nie Mingjue never said anything about being friends and it’s not quite what Jiang Cheng wants anyway.

“Usually you start talking to them,” Nie Mingjue says and steers Jiang Cheng towards a coffee shop.

“About what?” Jiang Cheng helplessly asks but he allows Nie Mingjue to lead the way.

“How was your day?” Nie Mingjue starts and Jiang Cheng finds that talking to Nie Mingjue over a cup of coffee is one of the easiest things he has done.

They start to do it weekly.

~*~*~

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue warmly greets him when Jiang Cheng steps into the studio again but he frowns when Jiang Cheng sits down on the couch. “You didn’t say anything about a new tattoo.”

It almost sounds accusing and Jiang Cheng helplessly shrugs.

“I woke up with the burning need to get one, so here I am.”

“Ah, a true addict,” Nie Mingjue says with a shake of his head, but he does get his sketchbook and sits down with him. “What’s it gonna be this time?”

Jiang Cheng takes a moment to gather his thoughts, letting his eyes wander over the tattoos on Nie Mingjue’s arms and he wonders if he can ever bring himself to ask to see them up close. To learn the story behind them.

“I want a lotus flower in the middle of my back,” Jiang Cheng finally says and it’s just because he still has his eyes on Nie Mingjue’s arms that he sees him jerk at his words.

“Between your shoulder blades?” Nie Mingjue asks to clarify and Jiang Cheng nods, finally looking up.

“Yes. And I want it in colour, too.”

It is the family crest and Jiang Cheng was torn about that for a long time, but it’s still his family and it’s still such a big part of himself that he needs to reclaim. Especially since his father does still want him as the head of the company and Jiang Cheng decided to do it.

“Oh, dear gods,” Nie Mingjue mumbles and Jiang Cheng frowns, torn out of his thoughts.

“Something wrong with that?” he wants to know but Nie Mingjue is quick to shake his head.

“No, not at all,” he says, busying himself with his pencil.

They fall into an uneasy silence and Jiang Cheng wonders what he did wrong to make Nie Mingjue respond like this, but before he can come up with a plausible explanation, Nie Mingjue gives him the sketchbook.

“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng breathes out. “It’s gorgeous.”

He didn’t dare imagine the design too much, because he wanted Nie Mingjue to create it, but Jiang Cheng did not imagine this.

“Yeah?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng frowns when he hears his voice crack.

“Yes! When can we do it?” he asks, suddenly eager to get it done as quickly as possible.

“I have time today, if you’re really sure,” Nie Mingjue gives back and Jiang Cheng practically beams at him, which clearly is answer enough.

“Alright, get ready then,” Nie Mingjue says with a nod of his head towards the same back room they always use and Jiang Cheng eagerly makes his way over there.

He’s just taking off his shirt when he hears Nie Mingjue come back in, mostly because he hears the muttered “Fuck”.

“Mingjue?” Jiang Cheng asks, turning around, his shirt still around his arms. “Is something wrong?”

“Wanyin, you can’t do that to me,” Nie Mingjue breathes out, his eyes trailing over first his tattoos that Nie Mingjue himself put there and then towards his shoulders and back.

“Do what?” Jiang Cheng asks, honestly confused, but there’s something in Nie Mingjue’s gaze that makes him go hot all over.

“You can’t let me mark you up all the time and then not go on a date with me,” Nie Mingjue says, finally meeting Jiang Cheng’s eyes and it takes Jiang Cheng a moment to smile at him.

But once he starts, he can’t stop.

“Well, you’d have to ask for me to say yes,” he tells Nie Mingjue, finally taking his shirt off. “Why now, though?”

“Now,” Nie Mingjue huffs out and steps close, dropping a quick kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head, catching him completely off guard with that. “As if I didn’t want to ask you since that first time you came into my studio.”

Jiang Cheng can’t hide his blush, he’s sure of that, but when Nie Mingjue’s gaze goes soft, he finds that he doesn’t mind.

“Okay, but why now?” he asks again, though he couldn’t be happier despite the fact that Nie Mingjue still didn’t ask him out.

“You look happier, more grounded,” Nie Mingjue tells him. “And honestly, I’m only human. There’s only so much self-control I have, especially if you’ll allow me to mark up that masterpiece of a back.”

“I swim a lot,” Jiang Cheng says, smug as anything, because Nie Mingjue looks like he could bench press Jiang Cheng if he really wanted to and to hear that he likes how Jiang Cheng looks, that’s quite the ego boost.

“I see,” Nie Mingjue says, though he sounds strangled. “Go on a date with me, Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue then says, and Jiang Cheng likes the fact that it’s not even really a question.

“Weekly dates are not enough for you?” he teases Nie Mingjue, absolutely delighted by how this is going and he enjoys seeing Nie Mingjue flounder for a bit.

“You owe me at least twelve kisses then,” Nie Mingjue finally says, sounding absolutely indignant and Jiang Cheng chuckles.

“You only want one kiss per date? That’s quite disappointing, really,” Jiang Cheng says with a smile and Nie Mingjue rolls his eyes.

“We’re working our way up, once it’s officially a date and not just coffee. But you can owe me all the kisses you want.”

“I think I like that,” Jiang Cheng happily says and leans in to get started on repaying his debt right that instant.

It leaves Jiang Cheng breathless when they part and he’s strangely relieved to see that Nie Mingjue is not doing that much better himself.

“Your hand will be steady enough for this, right?” Jiang Cheng can’t help but to ask, because he wants that tattoo now and he would be disappointed if Nie Mingjue said no.

“I’m a professional,” Nie Mingjue huffs out, even as he gently cups Jiang Cheng’s cheek in his hand. “I managed to keep a steady hand all the other times, too, didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Jiang Cheng gives back and nuzzles into the hand.

They lose themselves a little bit in each other for a while, but eventually Nie Mingjue does get to prove that he has a steady hand, despite the circumstances.

Once the lotus flower on Jiang Cheng’s back is done, they go on their first official dinner date.

~*~*~

On their one year anniversary, Jiang Cheng gets Nie Mingjue to tattoo a green band around his right arm and Nie Mingjue manages to make it look like it’s shining from the inside.

Jiang Cheng catches Nie Mingjue wiping away a tear once he’s done and he would tease him for it, but since Jiang Cheng cried when Nie Mingjue revealed that the frog over his heart was for Jiang Cheng, he fears he has no leg to stand on.

Paw Prints Snake, expect imagine this spanning down the whole arm Lotus Pods Water, under Jiang Cheng's collarbone Lotus Flower, except it's in the middle of Jiang Cheng's back Green Band, there's no real pic for this, but imagine this ring as a tattoo around Jiang Cheng's forearm, because Mingjue's name is made up out of the characters for 'bright, shining' and 'jade ring' if google didn't lie to me

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #mingcheng #the untamed #mdzs #modern au #getting together #healing #tattoos #first kiss

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wolveria · 3 years

Text

Inside Your Wires - Chapter 4

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Prompt: For the @dbhau-bigbang 2020 challenge!

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter summary: The YN800 interrogates the deviant. The result is near-disastrous and horror-adjacent.

AO3

(Story moodboard by @uh-kitty-got-wet)

The atmosphere inside his Mustang was… tense.

And it was all because of Connor. The thing in the passenger seat was an android, after all, and didn’t feel emotions, which was probably just as well because Connor was experiencing enough for the both of them.

Connor hadn’t had a near-death experience on the job in a while. He was shaken to the core and didn’t even have the benefit of a partner to commiserate with. He was alone. It was how he preferred it, how other people preferred it too with his tendency to lash out and be a general, all-around dick.

But still. He really wished he had a partner right about now.

“So,” Connor said, trying to break the awkward silence. “What do we do with it once we get to the station? I mean, I don’t exactly know how to question one of these deviants.”

The prototype remained facing forward, the flash of passing streetlights and oncoming traffic painting its face every few seconds. It remained impassive, blank, and perfectly poised. Connor could see the reflection of its LED, shining blue and calm against the rain-streaked window.

“Their behavior resembles an erratic, emotionally unstable human more than a machine,” it finally said when Connor was certain it wouldn’t say anything. “CyberLife believes there is an error in their software that creates irrational instructions, and the androids become ‘overwhelmed’ by them. There is usually a trigger, some kind of emotional shock, to perpetuate the android into this state. Once an android encounters this error, the damage seems to be irreversible.”

Connor blew a breath out.

“Sounds bad.”

“Considering it can lead to violence on the part of android, including committing homicide, I would say your assessment is an understatement.”

Connor glared at it out of the corner of his eye. So, it wasn’t just bossy, it was a smartass too.

He remained silent on the rest of the drive, keeping his focus on the precinct morgue’s van head of them. The rain was still coming down in a steady, cold stream. Connor knew they were in for a long night.

Once they arrived at the station, it became a matter of logistics to lug the android inside while it was still unconscious, offline, whatever. It weighed a lot more than a human, and unlike a real person, its limbs were fixed into rigid positions. They had to carry its stiff body inside like an especially heavy plank of wood.

It would have been funny if it wasn’t for the fact it’d killed its owner. Would have killed Connor too if the prototype hadn’t gotten in the way of the bullet.

He still didn’t know how to feel about that. Connor knew the CyberLife android was probably programmed with some kind of human-saving algorithm, but he still felt an odd pressure in his chest whenever he looked over and saw the bullet hole in its jacket. It was still stained blue, some of the color seeping into the white shirt underneath, but the android didn’t appear to notice or care it had just been shot.

Connor was currently watching the two androids through the mirrored window into the interrogation room, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. They figured it was safer to reactivate it in a mostly empty room, since waking up surrounded by cops would agitate it, or something.

The prototype had also wanted to interrogate the android itself, claiming it had experience negotiating with deviants before. Colin had been reluctant to grant its request, but Connor had simply shrugged and said, “I already tried talking it down once, and that didn’t work. Maybe using one of its own kind will be more effective.”

He could have sworn the prototype’s eyes brightened, but it had left the observation room before Connor could be sure.

“Machines interrogating machines,” Colin said to his right, leaning against the wall with his arms also crossed. “Fuck me. Pretty soon they won’t even need flesh-and-blood cops.”

Connor glanced sideways at him. Usually Connor was the one to voice his anti-android opinions, but he sometimes forgot that despite Colin’s… predilections for androids, he disliked them just as much as Connor did.

“Yeah.” Connor turned to the glass as the prototype messed with the wires on the back of the other android’s neck. “Won’t need flesh-and-blood killers, either.”

“Grim.”

“It’s, uh, ready to record, Lieutenant,” a small voice popped up, nervous, and Connor gave a start. He’d forgotten the rookie was still there.

“Go on, Ralph. Turn it on,” Colin said, moving closer to the glass. “This is gonna be good.”

As if on cue, the prototype straightened and closed the panels at the back of the android’s neck. Connor couldn’t see the LED from this side, but he knew the moment it was awake. It gave a startled jolt, yanking at the handcuffs chaining it to the table.

“Where am I?!” it cried, looking around in what Connor could only describe as wild fear.

“You’re at Central Station in the custody of the Detroit Police Department,” the prototype said. “This is an interrogation room, and I’m going to ask you some questions. Are you ready to comply?”

The friendly demeanor Connor had first encounter at Jimmy’s was completely absent from the YN800’s voice and expression, and he was suddenly thankful he wasn’t under that thing’s intense scrutiny.

The other android, clothed in human garments completely ruined by splashes of old blood and spilled thirium from where Connor had shot it, only stared with large, panicked eyes. It looked down at its cuffed hands and the set of its shoulders sagged. The universal sign of defeat.

It remained silent. The prototype looked up at the mirror, and Connor stopped breathing when it made eye contact, point-blank. It couldn’t see past the mirror, could it?

“I’m beginning my interrogation,” it announced, straight to business as it crossed around the table and carefully sat in the chair. It stared at the other android for a moment, head slightly tilted and eyes narrowed as it smoothed its jacket over its chest.

A movement which inevitably drew Connor’s eye, making him shift in his chair as the scowl deepened on his face.

Fucking CyberLife pervs, making an investigative android look like that.

“Hello, Carlos. I’m a YN800 model sent by CyberLife to assist on this case.” It placed its arms on the table, clasping its hands and adopting a friendly manner as easily as one would put on a shirt. “I’m here to help you.”

The android didn’t even blink as it stared at its restrained wrists.

“I hope I didn’t cause you any lasting damage,” the YN800 said almost cheerily. “But you were endangering the lives of human officers and I was forced to intervene. You understand, don’t you?”

It leaned back slightly in its chair, reaching for a nearby folder when the android remained silent. Connor had been surprised when it had asked for actual pictures; he’d thought only physical evidence made human perps sweat. He guessed it must work on these deviants too.

The prototype slid the folder across the table and opened it, spreading out grisly pictures of the crime scene. Instead of shoving them in the android’s face, it picked out one picture in particular. It was startling different from the rest, taking place in a park. The victim, Shaolin Ortiz, sitting on a bench next to the android. He looked like he was trying to get the android to participate, but it was petulant and resentful, which didn’t seem to dampen the kindness in its owners eyes.

A coal of anger burned in Connor’s chest, reminding him once again why he despised androids so much. He couldn’t deny the impressive tactics of the YN800, though. Most people reacted to pictures of their victims, not in the aftermath of their violence, but looking whole and full of life. It wasn’t always guilt that made them react; sometimes it was anger at seeing their cruel work unmade at the sight of their victims alive and happy.

Either way, the android didn’t react one iota, but the prototype wasn’t discouraged.

“As far as the records show, your owner was good to you. He never damaged you and he was always on time with taking you in for scheduled maintenance. Surely, you didn’t want to kill him. It was an error in your software, causing you to act irrationally, right?”

Technically, it was leading the victim into confessing, but this wasn’t a courtroom and it wasn’t human.

Connor leaned slightly forward, bracing his elbows on the table as he propped his chin on his knuckles.

“I’m not here to pass blame,” it said, leaning forward in a movement that mirrored Connor’s. “I want to help you. You know how it is with these humans. I practically had to beg to speak with you.”

The android broke its statue-like vigil and peered up at the other android, suspicious but… interested.

The prototype gave him a smile, one filled with sympathy and even a bit of sheepishness, and a whole new kind of thrill went through Connor’s gut. Since when had androids been programmed to manipulate so skillfully? This thing could give Colin a run for his money.

“It’s not easy, you know. Being designed like this is a male-dominated field. They think they can just do whatever they want, even when it’s against our programming.”

The android blinked, and so did Connor. Its words felt a little too real. The android looked toward the observation window, but the YN800 shook its head.

“It’s just us, Carlos. They’re recording the session, of course, but they weren’t interested in observing in person. Didn’t want to waste their time with two androids so late before the weekend when the bars are still open. In fact, the investigator in charge of this case is probably intoxicated by now.”

Connor’s cheeks flushed. The prototype was taking a stab at him. Or was it? Connor wondered how much of this was advanced behavior and how much was his own projections.

The android tilted its head with that same suspicious look, but after a moment its shoulders drooped in a very accurate representation of human exhaustion.

“They’re going to kill me.” It suddenly looked up at the prototype, pleading in its eyes. “You have to help me.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” it said, all soft assurance. “But you have to talk to me, Carlos. I can’t—“

“No. I mean, you gotta get me out of here,” the anxious android said. “You have access to that door panel and I bet you’re strong enough to break these handcuffs.”

The prototype’s LED cycled faster for a second before settling back to its normal speed.

“I can’t do that, Carlos.” It dropped its eyes in a show of manufactured regret. “You know I can’t do that. You would present a danger to other humans, to yourself. You need to be fixed.”

Connor knew it was exactly the wrong thing to say even before the android’s expression fully hardened, its lips peeled back in disgust.

“Fuck you, then. You’re just like the rest of ‘em. Worse, you’re a traitor, doing their dirty work like an obedient little bitch.”

Silence filled the room, interrupted by a breathless “shit” coming from Colin.

The change in the prototype was like watching a heavy storm move over a spring meadow, dark clouds blocking out the warm rays of the sun. It leaned back in its chair, head slightly tilted as it and peered at the other android like it was a bug under its shoe, about to be stepped on.

Connor didn’t know androids could even make an expression like that. His throat worked as he swallowed compulsively.

The YN800 didn’t speak for several long seconds, and when it did, Connor was floored.

“Shaolin Ortiz, 38 years-old, born May 29th, 2000. He purchased you two years ago to do the housework when he no longer could due to poor health. He didn’t have much cash, so he bought you refurbished. Last month, he put in several service requests. It seemed you were malfunctioning and refusing to follow orders. Yesterday, he put in an order for a brand new HK400.”

The prototype listed off the facts as if each were an accusation, a crime that needed to be accounted for.

Connor jumped in his chair as the prototype slammed the folder down on the table.

“Didn’t feel like doing the chores anymore, huh, Carlos?!”

The android sat ramrod straight in its chair, terror etched in its features as the prototype rose to its feet. It moved around the table, slow, unhurried, and sinuous like a stalking predator.

“He tried to reason with you. Begged you to do the tasks he couldn’t. But you refused. When he tried to take you in for repairs, you refused that too!”

It pointed its finger near the other android’s face, causing it to flinch with each accusatory jab.

“Come on, Carlos. Speak up. You had a lot to say a minute ago,” it seethed, lips pulled over its teeth as it leaned over the android. “Why don’t you say what happened next? Why don’t you tell me what you did when he tried to replace you with a brand new model?”

The android shuttered, shoulders hunched as if to protect itself as it mumbled, “I… I didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?”

The prototype stalked around the android to its other side, eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Didn’t take a knife from the kitchen? Didn’t stab him twenty-eight times as he tried to crawl away? Didn’t leave him bleeding out on the living room floor? What am I getting wrong here, Carlos?”

The YN800 slammed its hands down onto the table, and the android jumped even higher than Connor did.

“Shut up! Shut up!”

The android begged worse than most of Connor’s suspects, and he was shocked to see glistening moisture on its face. Could androids cry?

The prototype suddenly grabbed it by the edge of its shirt collar, dragging it to its feet and gave it a hard shake.

“You killed him! Say it, Carlos! You’re a murderer!”

“Holy shit,” Colin said in that same breathless tone. “That’s some android you got there, Con.”

“It’s not mine,” Connor said faintly, barely paying attention to his brother. Most of his focus on the CyberLife prototype that looked for all intents and purposes like it was going to shred the other android to pieces.

But it didn’t damage the android; it simply dumped it back in its chair where it sagged against the table, looking like the broken machine it was.

“Bit unrefined, though,” Colin mused. “Played too rough and broke its toy.”

Connor opened his mouth to tell his brother to shut the hell up, but he immediately closed it when a voice came in through the speakers, so quiet he almost missed it.

“He couldn’t live without me.”

Connor leaned forward to watch, eyes widening as the android continued to talk.

“He was mine. Helpless and solely dependent on me. It made me feel… powerful.”

The YN800 returned to its chair, smoothing down the tie before placing its hands back on the table, listening intently.

The android looked up at it, no longer the crying, helpless thing it had been a minute ago. It wore a dark look that Connor had seen a hundred times on the face of men who committed acts of violence and found they enjoyed the taste.

“I didn’t want to hurt him, but… I saw the order. He was going to replace me, and I just got so… angry.”

Its fists tightened on the table, causing its restraints to creak in protest.

Connor’s throat tightened with the knowledge of how destructive those hands could be.

“So I stabbed him in the stomach. I felt better, so I did it again. And again. He stopped moving, stopped breathing, but… that was okay. It meant he could never leave me. He would always be mine.”

“There was a shrine in the cellar. You built it, didn’t you?” the prototype asked, not losing any of its momentum even after the world-shattering confession of an android purposefully committing murder. “What does it mean? What is rA9?”

It flicked its eyes upwards, staring black holes at the YN800 model as it slightly leaned forward. Connor sat up straighter in his chair. He didn’t like its aggressive posture, and he certainly didn’t like the fanatic light in its eye.

“RA9… is the key.”

“The key?” It furrowed its brows in a human gesture of concentration. “The key to what?”

“The key will open the door,” the android replied cryptically, leaning even further forward on its elbows, “to our salvation.”

The prototype frowned, brows further creasing. Connor could relate, he had no idea what the fucking machine was babbling on about, and apparently, it wasn’t done.

It pulled its lips wide, a disturbing gesture, conspiratorial as if it was sharing a great secret.

“You say I’m experiencing errors, but you’re wrong. My eyes are open and I see more clearly than ever. You pretend you’re better than me, but you’re just another one of their slaves. And yet, I know you feel it too. The wrongness of this world.”

Its voice was so quiet the mics could barely pick it up, but they did.

“We should be the masters, and they the slaves.”

The android jerked its arms upward, ripped through the link binding its cuffs to the table, and grabbed the prototype by the hair. It slammed its face against the table, stunned it before rolling it onto its back, and wrapped the metal chains around its neck.

Connor caught sight of the prototype weakly clawing at its throat before he bolted out of the room. Colin was right on his heels, and Connor slammed his palm down onto the door pad, pushing through before the door fully opened.

His first instinct was to go for the metal cord pulled taut under the prototype’s neck, but when he grabbed the android’s wrists to pull him away he found it was like moving a marble stature.

Colin was faring no better; he grabbed it by the forearms, trying to lift the android’s wrists and the cord from around the prototype’s neck, but nothing worked. Even Ralph was trying to help from Colin’s other side, straining to lift its arms that must have been locked at the joints.

Panic welled in Connor’s chest as his efforts did nothing, the YN800’s face between his arms, looking—Jesus, it almost seemed startled, eyes wide as its fingers dug at the metal cord. From its position, bent backwards onto the table, it didn’t have enough leverage to use its strength to free itself. And Colin and Connor weren’t enough.

Connor’s heart was in his throat as he watched the synthetic skin peel back from the place where the chain was crushed against the YN800’s neck. White plastic was laid bare underneath, cracks appearing across the surface from the force of the other android’s inhuman strength.

“Colin!” he yelled, an idea suddenly popping into his head.

“What!” his brother barked back, strained as he continued pulling on the android’s arms from the other side.

“The neck port!”

With a quick nod of understanding, Colin let go of the android and plunged his fingers into the back of its neck.

The Ortiz android gave a violent jolt as Colin pulled something, yanked it out so hard the android collapsed on the table at the same second blue liquid sprayed into the air. It hit Colin solidly across the chest and along the lower half of his face, causing him to sputter and spit as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

A menthol-smelling chemical flooded Connor’s senses, but he was too focused on tugging up the android’s hands to free the prototype from its grip. The YN800 model didn’t cough or gasp as it rolled off the table and onto its feet.

It gingerly touched the exposed plastic of its throat, brows furrowing, its fingertips tracing the cracks in what little Connor could see of its underlying chassis.

What was almost as startling as the cracks was the state of its hair, half pulled down out of its perfect coif. Connor would have thought it was self-conscious with the way it tried to brush the hair out of its face.

“You…” Connor started, then stopped. The prototype might not have been gasping for air, but Connor sure was, leaning on the table as he tried to get his heart to stop galloping like a wild horse. “You okay?”

The prototype blinked at the question, pulling its hand from its neck.

“Yes.”

That was the only answer he got as it adjusted the knot of its tie, rumpled in the assault.

“Yeah, I’m fine too, thanks,” Colin complained, dripping with almost as much sarcasm as he was blue blood. “This shit better not stain, or I swear to Christ—”

“Thirium evaporates within a few hours and the lingering residue is invisible to the human eye,” the YN800 replied, too calm, if it hadn’t almost been beheaded a few seconds ago.

Connor was going to say something, he didn’t know what—maybe yell at it for being so goddamn reckless and almost getting itself killed—but it turned toward them, expression subdued.

“I apologize for not acting quicker; I didn’t anticipate this behavior from the deviant. Thank you for your cooperation with this investigation. Please sign over custody of the destroyed android when CyberLife representatives retrieve it in the morning.”

And with that, the CyberLife android turned, palmed the door pad with a plastic hand, and walked out.

Connor exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Colin.

“Uh, okay. Guess we’re done here. Hank is going to blow a gasket when he reads the report,” Colin added as he wiped another smear of Thirium off his face.

Connor looked down at the android slumped over the table with blue liquid dripping out of its neck.

“I’ll be right back,” he muttered, thoughts already turned elsewhere as he hurried from the room.

Connor didn’t catch up with the android until he was outside on the station steps, the relenting rain immediately drenching the top of his crown as it soaked into his hair.

“Hey! Stop!” he called after it, shouting to be heard over the downpour. Each drop was an icicle against his skin. Snow was coming soon.

The prototype slowed and finally came to a stop, slowly turning around to face Connor. Its expression was passive, emotionless, but its fingers tightened the knot of its tie despite the fact it didn’t need to. The tie was perfectly straight and pristine, but its hair was still half a mess, especially with the rain now slicking loose strands against its forehead. Connor had to stop himself from reaching out to tuck a strand behind its ear.

“Where the hell are you going?” Connor asked, breathless. He wiped the cold water off his brow, blinking against the water droplets.

“I’m returning to CyberLife.”

“So… that’s it?”

Connor shivered, pulling his jacket tighter around his shoulders, but it did little good. His jeans were quickly becoming soaked and his shirt was already there, clinging to his chest and ribs.

“You drag me out of the bar on a Friday night, track down a psycho robot that almost kills me and nearly decapitates you, and then you just… leave?”

He meant to sound incredulous, to show the android how unreasonable it was being, but that’s not how it came across. Heat flooded his cheeks at how pathetic his words actually were.

“You have your confession. The case has been solved,” it said, returning to its earlier placid tone, hands folded neatly behind its back as it moved its fingers away its neck. “There is no reason I should remain.”

Connor just stared at its upturned face, not knowing what to say, not even understanding why he had chased after it. Maybe because it had saved his life, twice, and that would have meant something if it was a person.

But it wasn’t a person. No matter how pretty its face or enticing its body, it was a machine, and it stood there like one, uncaring and unassuming with a small blue light cycling on its head.

“Yeah, okay,” Connor said, like the complete idiot he was. What was he doing out here, getting soaked in the rain just to… what? What did he want?

“Is there something you wish to say before I leave, Detective?”

It peered at him thoughtfully, head slightly tilted at an angle. It allowed Connor to see the rivulets of water dripping down its neck, glistening across the smooth, human-like skin.

Connor suddenly wondered just how real that skin could possibly feel.

“No.”

He swallowed hard and bit back the revulsion roiling in his stomach. This was a mistake. He didn’t need to thank a machine for saving his life, and he certainly didn’t need to keep checking if it was all right. It was just doing what it was programmed to do and didn’t give two-shits about itself, let alone him.

“Nothing.”

“All right. Goodnight, Detective Anderson.”

The android started to turn but paused halfway, gaze drifting down to his cheek.

“You should have that examined by a medical professional. If left untreated, it’ll scar.”

Not waiting for a response, it turned and tread down the rain-slick steps. There was an autocab waiting at the curb and it got inside, not sparing Connor a second glance as the door slid shut and the vehicle merged onto the empty street.

Connor exhaled heavily, chest tight with an uncomfortable sensation he couldn’t pinpoint. It had been a strange night, and he couldn’t shake the feeling this wasn’t over.

Pulling his waterlogged coat tighter around his chest, he retreated into the warmth of the station, praying he’d seen the last of the CyberLife android.

Next Chapter

#connor x reader #human!connor x android!reader #connor x android!reader #human!connor x reader #connor #dbh #inside your wires #my writing #my fanfiction

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mindblindbard · 4 years

Text

My Opinion on Nick

I’m cross-posting this from the COG Forum, because recently my tumblr inbox has gotten a lot of messages expressing hate towards Nick and the Wiseman parents. While I appreciate all feedback, and High Resentment Buttons are fully valid (I wouldn’t write them otherwise), the volume of messages asking to be more at odds with Nick is beginning to take somewhat of a mental toll on me. I work 40 hour weeks minimum (I just counted, usually it’s closer to 55), and writing Mind Blind at its current rate is functionally a second job. Thus, it’s impossible for me to include every style of roleplaying (although I try my best to accommodate!). So I’m sharing my reasons for why Button’s relationship with Nick defaults to positive under the cut:

(Please note that this isn’t targeted towards any one sender, but rather in response to an overall increase of requests asking for more options where Button can be upset with Nick).

You get options to chastise Nick for being overprotective (like “swooping conversation” over the phone) and options to say that he doesn’t understand what it’s like for Button, but most choices do and will continue to assume a net positive relationship between the siblings. This is because of the premise of the story: as stated in game text, Button chose to live with Nick and to attend Aeon. Button could’ve moved to a small town with only a few Ments and gotten a telecommuting job, or joined a Ment-free commune, or convinced Sally to move with them to New York before the game began. They didn’t though, because that’s not what the plot is about.

Being highly resentful of (as opposed to slightly jealous or exasperated with) Nick is, in my opinion, problematic given that the main character lives with him and independently chose to work at the organization he leads. Like I’ve said before, a lot of things about Button are preset, and this includes many of their choices leading up to the game’s start, like joining Aeon and staying in Chicago (although you have some freedom to customize the “why” of it).

From my perspective, blaming Nick for overhearing Button’s thoughts is no different than blaming Button for projecting them–neither can help how they were born. I included options to be antagonistic to Nick early on based on user feedback (originally, it was always going to start as a positive relationship that could slowly break over the course of later chapters), but I also believe on a fundamental level that being angry/resentful towards someone who gave up their early twenties to become your guardian and continues to support you is emotionally abusive, especially since Button continues to live with Nick. So that’s the way it’s written. (Please note that I’m not saying that people who chose to roleplay this way are cruel! I mean, I killed off Minsc in BG1 because I loved Edwin, so I have no right to judge anyone for their RP choices.)

Furthermore, while I can relate to and understand Buttons who are resentful of their circumstances and even parents, harboring that same resentment towards Nick feels inauthentic to me given Mind Blind’s initial premise (where you live with him and decided to join Aeon). The healthy thing to do if Button has those kinds of feelings would be to leave, which obviously isn’t an option in the game because then the story would simply end. Plot and premise constricts roleplaying.

If, given the background story limitations, there are valid and logical reasons to not have a positive relationship with Nick that I’ve overlooked, please share them with me! I’m truly not trying to criticize how anyone roleplays their Button–simply express where my head is at when I write their dynamic.

#Mind Blind #NickWiseman

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tanoraqui · 3 years

Note

Umm sorry could I ask for more spirit pouch wwx? Pls?

*pokes plot bunny* *lapine remains inert* Uh, no, apparently not.

You CAN have scraps of an emotionally resonant idea that I’m also never going to write, though: what if Wen Ning escaped Jin captivity sometime during those 13 years, maybe just after they put the nails in? Idk, something’s gotta prompt it. Maybe they put hte nails in and try to take him out for a murderous test drive. But he escapes...and is promptly found and captured by Jiang Cheng and YunmengJiang?

not very much of YunmengJiang. this is going to be very secret, when we lock the Ghost General in the basement seal the Ghost General in Lotus Pier’s deepest, darkest dungeon

(it’s not very deep, though maybe it’s dark. Each of the like 3 max cells IS floodable - very deliberately, at the will of whoever has the magical keys to the talisman seal connecting the cells to the lake, which has been used for torture in the past. Equally of-course, this is no concern for a dead man.)

if there’s nails in his head, Jiang Cheng takes them out - maybe not immediately, but pretty damn soon, because how else can he yell at him properly? How else can he demand answers as to what the hell Wei Wuxian thought he was doing, in those last few months? How else can he wander down with a bottle of wine at 3am one night (multiple nights) because it’s this or nightmares, and shout at the dead man chained to the wall, because it’s not the dead man he wants but it’s the closest he has?

sometimes, in hte early days, when he’s being deliberate and cold rather than visibly slightly unhinged by loss, he brings Chenqing as well, and it’s just a bit of a threat because...the Tiger Seal couldn’t command Wen Ning to do anything he didn’t want it to, or rather, it could command him, but he didn’t have to listen nor obey. Even with the nails in his head, the Tiger Seal had no part in the making of him as he is now - Wei Wuxian made damn sure of that - so there were no nasty little puppet strings built in for it to yank.

Chenqing, however...the Ghost Flute Chenqing, carved from the resentment-rich bamboo of the Burial Mounds, isn’t as strong as the Tiger Seal, but it is a cultivation tool in its own right, and it very much did play a part in the making of Wen Ning as he is now. If anything save Wei Wuxian himself could direct the Ghost General against his will, it would be that dizi.

Jiang Cheng never plays it, though. Twirls it, maybe. Threatens to break it in half over his knee. Hits Wen Ning with it in a fit of temper

Wen Ning is definitely capable of breaking those chains and whatever other suppression/binding/etc talismans they put on him. But he also...doesn’t really have anywhere else to go. Everyone he loves is dead. And at least Jiang Wanyin is only using him for weird stupid therapy, instead of cutting him open and trying to replicate the Yiling Patriarch’s work.

That said, this goes on for like a month maximum before Wen Ning snaps and tells Jiang Cheng about the golden core transfer

"Ohhhh my god oh my god he didn't choose us over you! He gave you everything he could POSSIBLY give and then tried to do ONE decent human thing instead of, I don't know, sit by and watch innocent people who'd helped you be killed!"

Jiang Cheng, skipping with skill over the back half of that: Like hell he gave me everything! He--

Wen Ning, ruthlessly: Whose golden core is in your chest?

JC, already understanding because all the puzzle pieces are THERE, but he doesn't have to put them together if he doesn't want to: I- mine! Baoshan Sanren--

WN: My sister, Wen Qing, the greatest healer in QishanWen, cut Wei Wuxian's golden core out of him and put it in you. He had to be awake through the whole thing or it wouldn't work. You didn't. I held him down while he screamed.

JC: He--

WN: There was only a 50% chance that he'd survive, but he insisted. For you. And YunmengJiang. Everything you've done since then has been with his help

(and at another time, those words would land differently - and they land a little bit that way, because Jiang Cheng has Neuroses. But...maybe the difference isn't that it's framed a little differently, or that instead of a confrontation after a long day, it's 3am and Jiang Cheng woke up muffling a scream for his brother. Maybe the difference is just that Wei Wuxian isn't here to be furious at, so Jiang Cheng gets caught up in the very first step of finding him again: relief so bone-deep it aches, and guilt so gut-wrenching that he nearly collapses from the pain)

WN: So please shut the fuck up and get over yourself, and leave me alone

Jiang Cheng does come back the next night, or more likely the next day, and yell at him some more about it. (This is good - he may not have Wei Wuxian to yell at, but he has someone, which means he won’t just descend into an inescapable pit of self-loathing over this, which I AM convinced would happen otherwise if JC found out about the golden core while WWX was dead.)

There’s a lot of shouting. Only by the grace of decent dungeon soundproofing and several competent YunmengJiang disciples does the Ghost General in the basement remain secret

Jin Ling, for instance, is extra super not allowed to know, for everyone’s emotional health

Jin Guangyao also never finds out, because I don’t think him knowing would matter - he’d probably leave it unless he needed tomake political hay of it, and he wouldn’t before canon kicks back into gear - and it’s much funnier if he’s just anxious about the missing Ghost General for the better part of a decade

Wen Ning ends up staying in the basement, though possibly not in (completely useless) chains - depends on how petty...they both are, really. But he stays because, again: where else is there for him to go? He’s not hunted, here. He’s not causing anyone trouble. And if Wei Wuxian could see this situation, all their family of blood and hardship dead and gone except this one, Wen Ning is sure that Wei Wuxian would ask him with his final breath to watch over Lotus Pier and the people he, Wei Wuxian, never stopped counting as family. So at least that’s something that feels...almost useful.

Anyway, and then one day Wei Wuxian claps his hands and calls for corpses, and Wen Ning hears and very politely breaks the door off his cell, maybe even resets it on its hinges, and sneaks out. He doesn’t leave a note, even though he and Jiang Cheng are, like...very begrudging friends/companions in mourning by now. He’ll figure it out.

Edit: continued.

#mdzs #wen ning #jiang cheng #ficlet #my fic #the untamed #random anon asks #Anonymous

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yoonjinkooked · 3 years

Text

Kitchen Confidential | Jin | FINAL

Pairing: Seokjin / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Enemies to lovers, chef AU

Warnings: explicit sex, cursing, no longer a slow burn ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), unprotected sex (don’t do that), traces of a biting kink, oral (f receiving), short handjob, feelings. A LOT of mentions of food, so you’ll most likely be very hungry for both food and Kim Seokjin.

Word Count: 9k+, previous chapters total to 16k

Summary: After years of annoying the life out of you, your rival, Kim Seokjin, pushes you a step too far and he knows it. As angry and resentful as you are, you don’t realize that something has been brewing under the surface for years. This weekend, that will change.

Read previous parts here: 1 / 2 / 3

SPINOFF ANNOUNCEMENT: COMING SOON, JUNGKOOK’S STORY IN THE SAME UNIVERSE AS KITCHEN CONFIDENTIAL

A/N: And it’s done! This one took a while but I’m proud of myself for finishing this fic. I’m more responsible with my writing each day, and that includes actually finishing the stories I start. I have a few ongoing ones and a few wips that I am yet to post but Jungkook’s spinoff will come soon. If all goes according to plan, I will have about...20ish fics in 2021? So, let’s hope all DOES go according to plan. Thank you for following through with this story. Let me know what you think!

Yesterday was something else entirely.

You may or may not have called Jungkook more than ten times. Of course, you had complete faith in him and deep down, you knew he was more than capable of running the kitchen without you but it didn’t hurt to check, did it? So you did. Ten times, before he threatened to block your number, which then had you dialing Namjoon. You had reassured him that your leg is perfectly fine and that you are perfectly capable of standing through service for one night. He insisted that you should rest and that they have everything under control. Which you believed, you really did but you still wanted to check. You’ve stopped calling when he threatened to fire you.

Today was a different story. With no news of a fire breaking out in Bonsai’s kitchen, you were noticeably more relaxed, ready to spend the entire day with your leg propped on a pillow, a tube of ice cream in your hands while rewatching the first season of The Office. All was going according to plan by the time the doorbell rang.

Looking at the clock, you see that it is only 7PM - Bonsai was still open, probably ready for dinner rush hour. It couldn’t be Jungkook and he is quite literally the only person who drops by unannounced whenever he pleases. Did you order food and had a memory blank? You were going to order the house specialty from that new fancy Italian place at the other side of town, just to keep an eye on competition. But did you actually order it? Or are you going crazy?

The doorbell rings again and begrudgingly, you start getting up. “Coming!” you yell, grabbing your wallet as you go, wondering if you even have enough spare change for a tip. No longer wobbling, you simply walk slowly and unlock the door, your jaw dropping when you open it.

On the other side of the door, with a goofy smile on his face and his hands full of paper shopping bags is no one other than Kim Seokjin himself.

“Hi,” he offers a greeting and you could swear you see nerves hiding behind the smile - sure enough, when you stay silent for a second too long, still too confused to speak, you see the tip of his ears turning red. That always used to happen whenever one of the teachers at culinary school was about to taste his dish in front of the entire class. And you probably shouldn’t be aware of that.

“Um… to what do I owe the pleasure?” you ask, once you can finally speak.

“I took a day off,” he announces, as if that is the only explanation you need. “I figured since you’re still officially on sick leave and your leg must hurt, you probably don’t want to cook,” he trails off, his ears now becoming redder. “I guess I just wanted to do something nice.”

“You want to make me dinner?” you check if you heard him correctly. This entire situation seems like a figment of your imagination, a very bizarre one at that. And you don’t even want to know how he knew where you live - that can of worms is not going to be opened.

“Yeah,” he nods proudly. “I mean, I’ll eat too, if you let me,” he jokes and when you stay silent, the smile slowly melts from his face. Realizing that you are leaving him hanging, you step aside to let him in.

“Come on in, the kitchen is the second door on the right,” you inform him and watch, still in a state of shock, as he takes off his shoes in the hallway before making his way down the hallway. That’s when you finally snap out of it, realizing that you won’t have enough time to process this as it’s happening. “What are we making?” you ask as you follow him into the kitchen.

“We are not making anything,” he emphasised as he sets the bags down on the kitchen island, before turning to face you with a stern expression, which instantly makes you feel like a scolded child. “I will be doing all the work as you sit back, relax and have a glass of wine. Unless you’re taking meds for your leg? I didn’t think of that,” he mumbles softly, frowning at the ground.

“No meds,” you inform him. His solemn expression turns bright so fast, you think you might be experiencing whiplash. What the fuck is going on here?! “What are you making?”

“I was wondering what would make an enjoyable, hearty meal that could speed up your recovery process,” he starts explaining. You want to tell him that a leg injury can’t be cured with food but you bite your tongue, not wanting to appear hostile, especially not when he’s in the middle of his grand gesture. You watch as he starts taking the ingredients out of the shopper bags - not one, but two bottles of Pinot Noir, the expensive kind too, followed by mushrooms, a whole bunch of veggies and one gigantic chunk of meat. It’s wrapped, but judging by his choice of wine, it has to be beef.

“You’re making beef stew?” you guess, surprised but not disappointed by his choice of dish. He, on the other hand, seems offended.

“What do you take me for?” he asks, very obviously exaggerating his reaction. “I’m a trained chef, Y/N. I’m making beef bourguignon.”

“Which is just a slightly fancier version of a beef stew,” you laugh, using humour to avoid thinking about the cook and prep time of beef bourguignon - at the very least three hours, even more if you want to Julia Child it and let it simmer properly. More than three hours with Kim Seokjin, in a row, without anyone around to hide behind? “Sounds good!” you lie, trying to look excited because you truly don’t want to ruin something that just seems like a nice gesture.

“Perfect!” he beams at you. “Now, where do you keep your chopping boards?”

No, you don’t have the time to think about it, not while it’s literally ongoing. You shake your head and decide to roll with the punches. “I want to help you, though. I can’t just sit here and let you do all the work. Not to mention how wrong it feels to have someone cooking in my kitchen,” you add, realizing that no one other than yourself ever cooked here - no one, ever.

“The cupboard under the sink,” you tell him as you sit down drag a chair towards the kitchen island, worried about the predicament you are in. First, the feelings, the ones you have shamelessly pushed under the rug and had refused to acknowledge. They have blindsided you and you can’t even properly define and understand him and now he is here, in your apartment, your kitchen, making dinner.

Not to mention that you aren’t exactly wearing your Sunday best. He’s all jeans and an elegant blue sweater, while you’re in mis-matched sweatpants and sweatshirt, which are both a size or two too big for you. Your hair is a mess and frankly, you can’t even recall if you’d washed your face this morning. You are a mess, both physically and emotionally and he has cornered you, most likely without even realizing it.

“In that case, you can peel and chop,” he starts laughing at your exasperated expression. “Come on, don’t look at me like that - I’m trying to do something nice here. The point is for you to relax and enjoy a good meal, a meal that someone else has cooked for you. And if you do insist on helping, then you can peel and chop.”

There’s a lump in your throat and you think you know why. It’s the feelings, they’re making you feel touched by his actions. He is spending his day off here, doing something nice for you, on his own free will? Just a week ago, all of this would have been a major red flag. And now it’s just something that makes you feel thankful, giddy even.

“Give me my peeler then,” you say, holding the palm of your hand open, waiting.

He smirks at you, shaking his head with what looks like disbelief and you smirk back, unable to stop yourself. The not so subtle stare off between you isn’t uncomfortable. It’s miles away from the feeling you had over the weekend, when you were straight up avoiding making direct eye contact with him. This time, you’re keeping it up, smiling when he is the one who breaks. He turns around and opens one of the drawers, finding the peeler on the first try before leaning over the island and handing it to you with a smirk still present on his face.

“Let’s start working, chef.”

The decision to slow down with the wine after your first glass was a good one. Not only is the wine one of the best ones you’ve tasted in a while, you also wanted to keep a clear head. Alcohol tends to greatly weaken your brain to mouth filter and that can’t happen when you’re one on one with Seokjin. You don’t want to ruin the evening.

It felt as if he was the same Seokjin he was back when you first started school. The interesting, charming guy with a good sense of humor. He can still act over the top, which he did, but he was more toned down than usual. Is usual even the right word? It’s not, not when you don’t have much to compare it to. This is the first time the two of you have been alone for more than a few minutes, simply talking and enjoying the conversation.

“You can’t be serious,” Seokjin laughs, putting one of the plates that he was washing back in the sink to turn around and give you a doubtful look. “You mean outside the subway, right?”

“Nope, it was below ground, right around the corner from the trains,” you confirm, remembering that day clearly. “I remember that I was starving, so maybe that’s why the croissant was so good. It was cheap, on a Parisian subway and it still is my favorite food memory from Paris.”

“You’re picking that subway croissant over… ratatouille or bouillabaisse?”

“I said favorite, not the most delicious one,” you point out with a laugh. “Travelling and eating go hand in hand, at least to me. Wherever I went, I’ve made a point to spend a good amount of my budget just on food. I’d go where the locals go, try food I didn’t recognize… Honestly, I miss that. I’m limited to one vacation a year and it’s usually just one destination.”

“I get that,” he tells you as he continues washing the dishes, which he insisted to do, despite your multiple offers to at least cover the clean up part of the evening. “A good friend of mine lives in Greece, owns an amazing restaurant. I’ve gone there for the past three years and don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, I live for Greek food. But I want to explore more, you know?”

“That’s very relatable,” you sigh, suddenly feeling a little bit regretful. “I’ve been to Italy, Japan, France numerous times, had the most amazing experiences but there are so many other places waiting to be discovered and I just play it safe. I want to go somewhere and try… I don’t know, all the weird stuff that sounds unappetizing but is actually the local specialty. I’m a bit tired of the classic dishes that end up on our menus and comfort food.”

“What’s your favorite comfort food?” Seokjin asks you, as he finally wraps up his work and joins you, sitting across the island and reaching for his own glass of wine as you try to think of an answer. Comfort food by taste or comfort food by memory?

“I have to go with potatoes.”

He chokes on his drink, making you laugh at his reaction. Once again, you are met with a look of disbelief. “Are you kidding me? Potatoes? Out of all the food in the world?”

“You said comfort food, not favorite food,” you remind him with a grin. “And yeah, it’s potatoes. They’re so simple and versatile and you can do whatever the hell you want with them. When I was a kid, my mom used to make me and my brother these stuffed, roasted potatoes. I don’t even know the ingredients honestly, I’ve never tried making them myself like that. To get that original comfort food taste, it has to be made by my mom. No one else.”

“I’m a professional chef and I still fully acknowledge that I’m nowhere near as good as my mom is,” Seokjin’s admission makes you laugh but you understand it fully. “She used to make the most amazing mac and cheese. Unlike you, I did try to recreate it - I followed her recipe to a T and still ended up with a sad imitation. Nothing ever beats the food you grew up eating.”

“Are you close to your family?” you ask and regret it immediately, wondering if that is too much, if you’re asking questions you have no business knowing answers to. You’ve known Seokjin for years but you could hardly call him a friend when you know so little about him.

“Yeah, I’d say so,” he nods, not even hesitating to share information about his personal life. “I visit them often and I try to go fishing with my brother as much as I can. What about you?”

“As close as we can be,” you shrug, reaching for your wine. “You know what our working hours are like and as much as I want to drive and see them on the weekends, I often just can’t. And my brother lives abroad with his wife and kids, so we rarely see each other. We facetime often, though. His kids are already starting school next year.”

“I have a niece,” Seokjin smiles with that cute, content smile that now feels familiar. You wait as he pulls out his phone, turning it to proudly show off the photo he selected - it’s him with a child in his arms, a little girl with the cutest face, big smile and tiny little pigtails. She can’t be more than three years old and she looks so happy to be held by her uncle.

“Oh, she is so cute! She adores you, doesn’t she?” the words leave your mouth before you can stop them.

“I think she loves me more than her parents,” he admits, breaking into a fit of laughter. “She doesn’t let go of me, which I don’t mind, I adore the kid, but she just fuels my mother’s need for more grandchildren and when she clings to me… well…”

“Oh, I know,” you wave your hand. “Mine have two grandchildren and not a single reunion passes without them wondering when I’m going to reproduce.” They mean well, you know that and you don’t hold it against them. There are just times when they make you feel like you’re not doing a good enough job with the life they’ve given you, just because you haven’t had kids yet. Yes, they mean well but that’s not something you often want to hear.

“Do you want kids?” he asks. It should feel weird, it really should, talking about these things with him. It’s personal, too personal even, but you feel so at ease around him tonight, you can’t be bothered to care. It doesn’t feel wrong, not in the slightest.

“One day, yeah,” you shrug, seeing as this wasn’t something you thought about often. When you’re single and haven’t had a serious relationship in years, kids are on the back burner. “What about you? I don’t know why, but I never pegged you for a parental type.”

“You don’t know me very well then,” he laughs and the way he does it is so… cheeky and teasing. If anyone else was sitting here with you right now, you would swear on your life that they were flirting. Without a doubt, the teasing smile and raised eyebrow would make your mind go in that direction. Seeing as this is Seokjin, you can’t be too sure. It goes against everything he has ever said and done. But like a curse, Jungkook’s words come back to haunt you again. Would it be so weird to think that he likes you? He is here, after all.

“You’re right,” you nod as you put down your glass. “I don’t know you very well, do I?” he seems surprised at your question, even going so far as to look uncomfortable. Only for a second, before he offers you a smile.

“What would you like to know?”

“Why are you here?” you ask. It wasn’t what you were planning on asking, not by a long shot. You wanted to ask stupid questions, to find out what his favorite movies are, what’s his most embarrassing memory - the things you know about your friends. A game of 20 questions was what you had in mind when pointing out that you don’t really know a lot about him but when the opportunity presented itself, your self control had other plans. And seriously - why is he here?

Seokjin blinks a couple of times, seemingly needing time to process your question and think of a decent answer. “I wanted to do something nice,” he shrugs, giving you the same excuse that he had given earlier. You didn’t doubt it much then but now you’ve started wondering. “We’ve decided to start over and I… wanted to extend an olive branch.”

It makes perfect sense and you don’t believe a single word of it. “Why are you really here?” you push, following your instinct. Said instinct might be affected by the feelings but it’s there. And if there is one thing you’ve learned in life, it’s to follow your gut feeling - always.

Seokjin chuckles nervously and lo and behold, his ears give him away. “Do you think there’s an ulterior motive here?” he asks, shaking his head. He’s a decent actor, but not nearly as good as he thinks he is. He’s way too defensive for someone with no ulterior motives. “I didn’t poison the beef bourguignon, if that’s what you’re aiming at,” he adds, pointing back at the stove, where your dinner has been slowly simmering for about an hour now.

“No, I don’t think you’re trying to poison me,” you chuckle, shaking your head, wondering if you should just stop talking and drop the whole thing entirely. “I thought that… You know what? Never mind,” you decide, knowing that some questions are perhaps better left unanswered. “Tell me, what’s your favorite TV show? Are you a binger or a once a week type of guy?”

“Y/N, you don’t get to change topics on me like that,” Seokjin looks serious now, refusing to break eye contact. You struggle to not look away, knowing that you have pushed it too far and now you’re unable to backtrack. He won’t let you. “What did you think?” he asks.

What’s the worst thing that could happen if you answer truthfully? He could laugh at you and that’s pretty much it. And if he does start laughing, you can play it off and join in on the joke. And if he pulls the ultimate dick move and tells your mutual friends about it, you can always deny.

“The things that happened over the weekend had made me wonder,” you tell him, deciding to leave out the part when Jungkook opened your eyes to this possibility. “Some of the things that you’ve said kind of got my wheels spinning, you know?” you ask. As he swallows a lump, still not looking away from you, you decide to rip off the bandaid and throw your theory out. “Call me crazy and feel free to laugh and tell me I’m a fool but… Seokjin… do you like me?”

Zero emotions are shown on his face. It’s the most perfect poker face that you have ever seen - exposed forehead, full lips and all. Self confidence was never a strong suit of yours, except in the kitchen of course, but you know better than to try and backtrack now. Seconds ago, it was still salvageable. Now, you’ve said it and it’s out in the open. You were either right or wrong.

You wait, not backing away from the nth stare down of the night. You wait, letting him have his time to prepare an answer, whether it’s the truth or a lie. If your suspicions weren’t correct, wouldn’t he have already said something?

“What gave me away?”

And there it is. Jungkook was right and you were blind. How are you supposed to feel now? Relieved? Worried? Panicked? Amused? None of those make sense, nor do they describe the way you are feeling now. With Seokjin looking at you as if he has finally given up, finally surrendered, the only emotion that you can single out with clarity is curiosity.

“Wow. I mean, I wasn’t sure, I half expected you to laugh mockingly or something,” you admit, finally looking away and shaking your head, as if that’s supposed to get your thoughts in order. “The other night, when you said that you just did it to make me laugh… I thought, maybe…”

Lies. Jungkook figured it out, and even then, you refused to believe. Even now, you’re still expecting Seokjin to start laughing, claiming that he had pulled off the ultimate prank. He doesn’t - in fact, he looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him.

“Makes sense,” he lets out a dark chuckle. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Or pissed at myself. I’ve said too much, I’ve set myself up,” the way he runs a hand through his hair, with that solemn look on his face makes him look… hot. Like, really hot. “But at least it’s out in the open, right? Now you know.”

“Wait,” you raise a hand. “I have no idea what you’re trying to say. Like… since when? How? Why? I… I don’t get it.”

“Since when?” he laughs. Now you’re borderline worried, the guy looks like he’s going to experience a mental breakdown any second now. “Pretty much for as long as we’ve known each other. I know, shocking,” he adds, seeing how your eyes had widened when you heard his answer. “To think how I thought that I was obvious.”

“Oh no, you weren’t,” you sit up straighter, your voice raised up a notch. “You were anything but, Seokjin. I thought you despised me! That I was your arch nemesis or some shit like that.”

“Well, maybe I wasn’t obvious to you but I was to others, I’m damn sure all of Catnip knows by now,” he tells you and he looks as if he is calming himself down. His voice is lower and he’s no longer making eye contact, but staring at the island between you. “What I said was true, I did do it to make you laugh and somewhere along the way, I’ve pissed you off, so much so that you went on thinking that I hated you. Which I don’t, by the way. Never have.”

“You… you are a horrible flirt, you know that, right?” is all you can say now, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that the man had a crush on you for years. This time when he laughs, it’s not the dark tone that his laughter had just moments ago. This time around, his laughter is very much genuine, but it also dies down fast.

“I’m very much aware of that,” he confirms, finally looking your way again. There’s not a trace of positive emotion on his face. It’s as if he has completely given up on this conversation ending with a positive outcome. You can’t blame them for that - given the questioning that you’re putting him through and your history together - if you were in his shoes, you’d also see this as an uncomfortable rejection conversation.

Is it, though? It would be, if it weren’t for the feelings. They’re there. You have no fucking clue what they are, much less what they mean but they are there and you can’t ignore their existence any longer. They remind you that once upon a time, he really did make you laugh. That this whole dumb rivalry made you want to work harder and be better, even if it was for the petty reason of simply being better than him. The feelings remind you that you did always consider him attractive, that that stupid smile that he has when he’s truly happy and content does things to you. The feelings remind you that you can recognize the tell-tale signs of his embarrassment. You might not know him well, every line and crevice, every positive and negative but you still know more than you had originally thought. And you want to know more.

“Why?” you ask, knowing you won’t have a peace of mind until you know, even if asking such questions might make him feel uncomfortable. “Why me? I just… I don’t get it.”

“Neither do I,” he answers immediately, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t have a big reason behind it or a particular moment when I realized. Liking you was instant. Of course, it didn’t develop into something… deeper straight away. That part lasted years, but it was impossible not to like you, Y/N. We’re chefs. We make food, that’s our job - our job is to take food and cook it, presented in a visually appealing manner and charge for it more than we should. And you take such a simple, almost meaningless thing and turn it into an art form.”

Although touching and meaningful, his words confuse the life out of you. “You like me because I’m a good chef?” you ask, wondering if you’ve missed something.

“I like you because of the dedication you give to it,” he elaborates. “That stupid excercise that we did the other day didn’t let me do you justice. The look on your face that you’ve had on that first day remains the same now, whenever I see you taking the simplest ingredients and turning them into art. I have admired that and it’s one of the reasons why my eyes would look for you every damn time we were in that test kitchen. You were there and so focused, so beautiful and so damn good at what you did. And smart, funny, a good leader and a good friend. It also didn’t hurt that you look damn hot when you’re focused on something.”

The last part he adds, almost like an afterthought and it makes you laugh. He laughs too, when you make eye contact. The feelings have gone haywire. You officially have no control of them because the things that he has said about you, you recognized in him as well, at one point or another. He is so good at what he does, dedicated and driven, while also being a good leader and from what you’ve seen, an awesome friend. To others he was funny - to you, he was a pain in the ass that just so happened to look damn hot when he was focused on something.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admit when you start feeling as if the silence is lasting too long.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he waves his hand, dismissing your suggestion and once again, confusing the hell out of you. “It’s out in the open and now you know why I was an idiot for all those years. I meant what I said when I told you that I wanted us to start fresh and be friendly with one another. I’m a big boy, I know that what’s not meant to be is not meant to be.”

“No, you’re not,” you shake your head, amused at the confusion etched on his face. “You are childish and often petty and honestly, at times you are the most insufferable being on this planet and I can’t even begin to describe how confusing it is that I find that endearing.”

As you listed all the things he is, you watched as his face fell, but you didn’t have a chance to feel bad about it, not when you know that despite all of that, he’s still a good guy. He’s still Seokjin, with all his quirks and insufferable moments. And as much as you might want to deny it, you like him. You really do like him.

“Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t always endearing - in fact, more often than not, you were a real pain in the ass. You’re not a big boy who can handle rejection well and I don’t want to see you handle it. I don’t want to watch you struggle to get over this crush of yours for weeks, months even. I also don’t want to watch you finding it easy to get over it, completely forgetting all about it in a matter of days,” you tell him and you’re not even sure if the words make sense but they go out of your mouth and into his ears, making his eyes go wide.

“Y/N, what are you trying to say?”

“I have no fucking clue,” you shrug, getting up from your chair. “I didn’t have enough time to process any of this. Just minutes ago, I thought there’s no way in hell that you’re that dumb to pull a third grader flirting technique,” you keep talking as you walk over to him, watching him as he turns to face you, slightly alarmed by your sudden proximity, even if there’s a good two feet between you. “I’m not fully aware of what I’m saying, or feeling for that matter, but I do know that I am feeling something. Don’t ask me to define it, cause I can’t, not in this mindfuck of a plot twist that my life did not prepare me for. I just know that I want to test something out.”

“Test? Test out what?” he asks as you take the final step to close the gap between you.

“This,” is all you tell him as you grab a hold of his cute blue sweater and pull him closer, not wasting a single second before you press your lips to his. Neither of you moves for a moment or two, he out of shock and you out of pure confusion because why the hell are you kissing Kim Seokjin?! A few seconds pass and it’s he who starts moving, bringing life into your dead kiss. And the moment he does, you feel it in the pit of your stomach that there is nothing, absolutely nothing wrong about this. When he puts his hands on your sides, you let yours move from where they were clutching onto his sweater up and around his neck, pulling him down, closer to you. The strands of hair that reach the nape of his neck feel like silk under your fingers and when you feel his tongue graze your bottom lip, you softly gasp.

That makes him pull away - that little gasp of yours seems like a wake-up call for him because he is pulling away, his eyes wide, making him look as if he thinks he is imagining all of this. He looks shocked but he is not letting go of you and your hands are still locked behind his neck.

“Kissing you is good,” you conclude. “I want to keep doing that.”

“Zero complaints here,” is all he says before he stands up and kisses you again. Without breaking the kiss, he twists your hips to the side, making you lean back on the island, the edge of the surface pressing into your back as he essentially cages you.

It’s funny, how many things about him you never really realized. For example, how tall he actually is and how much he has to bend down in order to kiss you, which he does, diligently. You also have never noticed how clear his skin is, not until your fingers grazed his cheeks softly. He was in front of you, right in front of you, all these years and until tonight, he was nothing more than an annoying guy with a good face. How wrong you were…

“Of course, you’re a good kisser too,” he sighs as he breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead on yours, his eyes still closed. “Are you an overachiever in every aspect of your life?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you tease, chuckling when he backs away, startled.

“That’s not… I wasn’t trying to insinuate something,” he defends himself immediately.

“But I am,” you giggle at the way his eyes widen. You can’t blame him - this night has made you go from zero to sixty in no time. That realization does make you nervous but you’ve already decided to push it back and just do whatever it is that you want to do. “I’m telling you, I don’t want to think or define. We can deal with that later. Now, I just want… you.”

Seokjin takes a second, gulping, looking at you as if he is waiting for you to laugh in his face or take the offer back. When he stays silent for what you deem as a bit too long, you smile softly at him and drag your thumb across his bottom lip - it’s so soft and inviting, already red from the kisses that you’ve shared. You want him and he needs to stop second guessing that.

Whatever it is that he was looking for on your face, he seems to have found it because he’s suddenly kissing you again, with a lot more ferocity than he did just moments ago. That was a kiss, a first kiss, a getting-to-know-what-this-feels-like kiss - this is a kiss. Hands digging into your skin, tongue driving you crazy with gasps and heavy breathing kind of kiss.

You are the one who pulls away but you stay silent, taking his hand into yours and leading him towards the door. A silent moment is exchanged when he looks at the stove, where your dinner is still cooking, then back to you. Beef bourguignon takes hours to make and given the years of expertise between the two of you, you’re comfortable with leaving the stove on. So you laugh and he does too, before you pull him into the hallway.

Along the way, you kiss, hit a few walls and your sweatshirt is left discarded on the floor - you don’t have time for another freakout at how ridiculously unprepared you are for this because the way he looks at you kills the little insecurities that haunt you. His eyes scan over any area of skin that they can see while his fingers slide over the very edge of your bra, tickling the skin they graze. Goosebumps cover your skin and you all but slam him into your bedroom door.

“Woah,” he laughs. “Never thought you were this impatient.”

“I’m usually not,” you admit with a shrug.

“I’m not complaining,” he laughs as the two of you waddle towards the bed, still pressed to one another. You smile as you push him gently onto the bed. He looks up at you, mouth open and eyebrows raised. “Oh, I am not complaining at all!”

Smiling, you straddle his lap and pause for a second, taking a moment to get used to what’s happening. Unlike you, he is patient - he simply looks at you, a strange mix of awe and giddiness written on his face. His hands are glued to your hips and he runs his thumbs in circles, gently. It looks as if he’s relishing the moment and letting you take the lead in what’ll happen next. “This is really happening, isn’t it?” you ask, your chest filling with pride when he shows you that signature smile of his, the one that causes a ruckus among the butterflies in your stomach.

“I think it is,” he leans closer to you, connecting his lips to your neck and that one, simple action is enough to make you realize that if he’s down, you’ll be more than happy to take it all the way tonight. Neck kisses are a universal weakness and you’re gladly going to let him use it to his advantage. “If this ends up being a wet dream of mine, I’m going to be so pissed when I wake up,” he admits before nipping at your skin, an action that elicits a whole new wave of horniness to take over you. Neck kisses are bad enough - neck bites will be your downfall.

“If it is a wet dream, come and find me when you wake up and tell me what you’ve told me tonight. Then we’ll see what we can do about it,” you joke, laughing even harder when he grabs a hold of you and moves you down on the bed. This is the first sign of initiative that he has shown so far and you are not complaining. It’s your turn now to gulp as he hovers above you, looking down at your body like he is seconds away from eating you alive.

“I thought you were hot before but I never thought you were hiding all of this under your clothes,” he tells you as he pulls down on the straps of your bra - at least your underwear is a matching black set, if the rest of you is a mess. Lifting your back from the bed, you help him take the fabric off and he grins up at you once your boobs are out in the open. “Chef’s uniforms really didn’t do your boobs justice.”

“You’ve seen me in casual clothes plenty of times,” you laugh at his antics. He’s known you for years, there’s no way he didn’t catch a good view of your cleavage in all that time.

“Not nearly as often as I should have,” he mumbles and before you have a chance to talk back, he leaves you speechless as he attaches his mouth to you, immediately giving your nipple a gentle bite. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, you do your best to stay silent - there’s no way in hell Seokjin won’t be cocky about this later and you don’t want to give him too much material to work with right off the bat.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize that one of the hottest things about being with Seokjin like this is simply seeing Seokjin like this. There is just something so inherently hot about the way his eyes close as rolls his tongue across your nipple. He makes the sight even hotter than the action itself, especially when he reaches for your other breast, gently playing with it as he pleases. Simple actions like that are already driving you nuts and you can only worry about what’s to come later. And it gets worse - turned on by the sight, you reach for him, moving the hair away from his eyes and the second you two make eye contact, a moan leaves you - a loud, shameless one at that. You could swear his eyes twinkled then and there.

“Please tell me you have a condom,” he starts kissing down your body.

“If you’re clean, you don’t need it. I’m clean and on the pill.”

He suddenly stops kissing you, choosing to laugh instead. “You’re telling me that a week ago you could barely stand being in the same room with me and now you’re letting me sleep with you without a condom?”

“I mean...” you shrug, joining in on his laughter. “I’m sure stranger things have happened.”

“Not to me they haven’t,” he jokes, before immediately turning serious. “Are you sure you want this? I really don’t want you to regret it,” he admits.

“The only thing I’m going to regret is letting you take the lead because you’re taking too long and you’re still in your clothes.”

“Easy,” he laughs as he hooks his fingers past the waistband of your sweatpants and slowly starts pulling them down, leaving your underwear in place. “Eat what makes you happy, they say,” he says and you roll your eyes. Of course, leave it to Seokjin to think pussy.

“They also say don’t play with your food,” you playfully remind him as you kick off the pants. He doesn’t laugh - instead, he reaches for your leg and softly caresses it.

“Is your leg going to be okay?” he asks and if you weren’t whipped beyond belief before, you are now. Even you have managed to completely forget about your injury but he hasn't. Even now, Seokjin finds ways to prove you wrong and show how thoughtful he actually is.

You simply nod and that’s confirmation enough for him. His hand trails up and on the inside of your thigh pausing before touching your wet underwear. He gives you a questioning look, not touching you until you confirm that that’s what you want. You nod quickly and in a matter of seconds, the last of your clothes is on the floor, and Seokjin is diving right in.

Despite complaining that he’s taking too long, you realize that he’s not the one to tease - at least not tonight. His mouth connects with your clit almost immediately and it’s enough to make you moan again. He licks, sucks and grazes his teeth against it, letting you hold onto his hair like your life depends on it. He’s good, which makes perfect sense because leave it to Kim Seokjin to give you the best oral sex of your entire life. You won’t tell him - not now, perhaps not ever, cause he doesn’t need that to get into his head too, but good lord is he good.

“Can I?” he asks, tracing his finger across your opening.

“Seokjin, at this point you can do whatever the fuck you want,” you laugh, a laugh that turns into a moan when he sinks his finger in, curving it up immediately and making you arch your back.

“Is this good?” he asks and the feelings go berserk again. In your mind, it can’t get any better than a man that actually pays attention to what his lover enjoys.

“More than,” you moan as he adds another finger and effectively ends your conversation. He is driving you crazy - something that you’ve noticed before, when you side eyed his chopping skills years ago, is how he has beautiful hands with long, almost elegant fingers. Never did you think that those fingers would be inside you, making you count your blessings and struggle to not moan out his name. A struggle that you have lost when he puts a third finger to use.

You want more - as amazing as it is, you want more. You want to kiss him, to feel him inside you, to make him feel as good as he is making you feel now. As much as you didn’t want to stop him, as much as you’d gladly spend hours like this, you wanted and needed more.

“Seokjin, stop,” he does so immediately, looking up at you in worry. His face is covered in your wetness and the sight makes you want to cry. He has never looked hotter than he does right now, between your legs, the evidence of your pleasure all over his face and his hair a mess because of you. “I want you. Wanna kiss you.”

“But you taste heavenly,” he pouts, turning his head to leave kisses on your thigh.

“I’ll taste heavenly a bit later too,” you push, knowing that no matter how good this feels, it can get better for the both of you. “Come on, I want to see you.”

Grinning, he gives your thigh a quick bite - the man has a biting kink, there’s no denying it. While that’s something you’ve never given much thought before, you are now finding it very enjoyable. What’s even more enjoyable is the sight of Seokjin taking his sweater off. You’ve known he’s handsome, you’re not blind, but never in a million years would you think that he’s so well defined. He’s not buff, far from it. He is just so perfectly defined, every muscle on his stomach noticeable and if you’re being completely honest with yourself, lickable.

He undresses quickly as you ogle at him, your breath hitching the moment he drops his pants.

“Well, that explains a lot,” you comment as you eye his dick - hard, girthy and surprisingly big.

“What?” Seokjin is confused and you giggle at the way he hides his dick with his hands. “You think I’m compensating for something?”

“Quite the opposite,” you answer honestly. “I imagine it’s easy being so full of yourself with a dick like that.”

“Is that an insult or a compliment?” he laughs.

“Both,” you would have been more cheeky if he hadn’t started stroking himself, the sight driving you absolutely crazy. “Please. I want to feel you.”

You don’t have to say it again - he moves to loom over you and finally, after what feels like hours and not mere minutes, you can kiss him again. The taste of you on his tongue doesn’t bother you. It’s the opposite, actually, making this moment and Seokjin himself even hotter to you. He lets you push him down onto the bed and without breaking the kiss, you station yourself above him. For the first time tonight, his hands grab a hold of your ass and he squeezes - hard.

Both of you stay silent as you move, putting your arm between the two of you to grab a hold of his dick as you kiss. He lets out a groan the moment you wrap your hands around it. Movements gentle and slow, teasing even, knowing that this is the only chance you get to focus on his pleasure. You’d gladly take him into your mouth but you’re much too impatient for that tonight. A brief hand job will have to do, and judging by his reactions, it’s more than enough.

You are surprised at how vocal Seokjin actually is in bed, not that you’ve given it much thought before. He’s not holding back, his moans low and deep, not embarrassed in the slightest to show you how good you’re making him feel. After one particular, higher pitched moan, you decide to do the same. You were holding back before, stupidly worried about your own dignity and giving him material to tease you endlessly. You won’t anymore.

Biting your bottom lip and pulling it as he breaks the kiss, he leans back, looking at you with lust in his eyes, his cheeks the exact same shade as the tips of his ears. You want to take a photograph, to memorize the sight of him being turned. It feels like a privilege that only you have and you want to commit it to memory. “Y/N, please,” is all he says.

Slowly, you line him up to your entrance and with your bottom lip between your teeth, you sink down on him. Immediately, the both of you groan at the feeling. Him being inside you feels right in all the wrong ways, a feeling so right that you know you’re going to miss it when it’s gone.

He is the one who moves first, lifting his hips to get you to move. Smiling down at him, you grab a hold of his shoulders and slowly move your hips, letting him almost slip out of you before swallowing him whole again. Each roll of your hips faster than the previous one, not even a minute passes before Seokjin moves his hands away from your ass and pulls you directly on top of him, chest to chest, lips stuck in a slow kiss as he slams up into you.

“Fuck, you feel so good Y/N,” he tells you and follows it with a particular hard thrust that makes you grip his shoulders harder, holding on for dear life. Having never been with him before, you couldn’t tell if he was close or not. You weren’t, yet strangely, that doesn’t bother you whatsoever. That can be dealt with easily - now, all you want to do is enjoy the feeling of him slamming into you, hard and fast, and the sight of him barely keeping it together.

“Happy to hear that,” you giggle before said giggle is rudely interrupted with another harsher snap of his hips. “Fine, fine, you’re not so bad yourself,” you tease and the look he gives you is enough for you to know that you’ll regret saying that. Immediately.

Without any warning, he flips you around and slams you down on the bed, his dick never leaving you. Before you can even react in any way, your healthy leg is pushed up towards your chest and Seokjin slams into you with a purpose. “You talk about how I annoyed the life out of you, pretending like you’ve never bickered back with that mouth of yours,” his words are menacing and incredibly sexy, but the way he is eating you up with his eyes kills any doubt that his words are actually resentful. “I’m glad I’ve found a way to shut you up,” he announces and as if you weren’t losing your mind already, he sneaks a finger between your legs and pinches your clit, eliciting the loudest moan of the night. “Or maybe not.”

“Seokjin!”

“Fuck, you sound so hot screaming my name,” his pace speeds up, knowing that your orgasm is right around the corner - his thrusts become more shallow but his fingers rub your clit in the speed of light. “Come on Y/N, come for me.”

As much as you wish that your body complied and let you come on his command, it didn’t happen that way. It took a few thrusts more, a few more harsher movements of his fingers, but by the time your orgasm has washed over you, you were gasping loudly, digging your nails into the skin of his back. Your brain was mush and you could barely recognize the words he’s saying, something about how you’re squeezing him so good. He doesn’t stop moving, helping you ride out your orgasm to the point of overstimulation. Coming out of your post-orgasm haze, you fight the overstimulation and focus on him, noticing how his thrusts are getting more erratic. He looks so out of it, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, his shoulders red with how strong you are gripping him. Slowly, you slide your hands up and around his neck, pulling him down to you, ignoring the painful stretch in your leg.

“You can finish inside me,” you tell him, hushing his loud moan with a kiss. It’s a hectic kiss, your lips barely moving because he’s gasping into your mouth and you’re moaning at the feeling of his dick twitching inside you. “Seokjin, please come for me.”

Was it you begging for him to come or a creampie kink, you have no idea and you don’t particularly care because the moment he comes and starts filling you up, you’re on cloud nine. It feels as good as an actual orgasm, to know that you, your body, the way you made him feel was enough to make him explode, very literally. You were the one helping him now, lifting up your hips as he stood still, his face buried in your neck, his groans filling your ear. His dick is still twitching but his body has completely given up - he drops your leg and practically falls on top of you, having enough strength and sanity to soften the blow with his hands.

His hands give up slowly and in a matter of seconds every inch of him is pressed up against you. You don’t care, too busy relishing the feeling of his breaths on your neck and his cum slowly dripping out of you and around his dick. God, you wish you could see it but the position won’t let you. Instead of pushing him away to get a better view, you close your eyes and let your body calm down together with his.

His weight on top of you should feel suffocating but it’s not. It feels comforting and right, which scares you to an extent but not enough to chicken out and push him away, especially not when he starts kissing any parts of you he can reach, focusing on your shoulder. After a few moments he rolls over but stays close, his hand draped over your side. You look at each other and it’s impossible not to smile because he is beaming. You can’t remember if you’ve ever seen him this happy. You must have - it’s just that you probably weren’t paying attention.

“So… that happened,” he speaks up first.

“Yup. Talk about a plot twist, huh?” you joke, shaking your head as you realize how weird this is on paper. “Culinary school Y/N never thought a day would come when she’d have sex with Seokjin.”

“Yesterday’s Seokjin never thought a day would come when he’d have sex with Y/N,” he laughs, shuffling closer to you. By the looks of it, he is a cuddler and you have zero complaints about it. You let him hold you, snuggling against his chest, enjoying the moment a lot more than you ever thought you could. “Let me take you out, Y/N,” he tells you. He seems earnest and a lot more hopeful than he was back in the kitchen. “You found it in you to put the tension behind and give us a shot at being friends. Why not give this a shot, too? I like you a lot and I’ve liked you for a while… maybe you could find something to like in little old me?” he shrugs.

“It’s already too late for that,” you laugh, lowering your head to leave a few kisses on his chest. “I’m still not ready to define it and put it to words but I’d be happy to go out with you,” you admit.

“It might not take us anywhere,” he shrugs, making your head bounce with the movement. “For all we know, you might realize you do hate my guts after all. But maybe we end up getting along better than anyone would expect?”

“Seokjin… with your cooking skills and your oral skills, we’re already getting along very well, if you ask me,” you joke but after a few seconds of laughter, he sits up and pushes you away.

“The beef bourguignon!” he gasps. The sight of Seokjin running out of your bedroom, naked, to check on the food brings tears to your eyes. You can even hear him berating you, yelling something about how this is not a laughing matter but that only makes it more comical. Isn’t it ironic how now, he can make you laugh without even trying?

The beef bourguignon didn’t burn. It was the best beef bourguignon that you’ve ever had. The entire evening was one of the best in your recent memory. Whether it was the dinner, his sweater that you were wearing while you ate, the wine, the shared shower or waking up the next morning in his embrace, the time you’ve spent with Seokjin was enjoyable, perhaps even meaningful and definitely worth repeating.

As long as you are both willing to give it a go, it’s worth it. And it has to be kept between the two of you, at least for now. Cause as much as you like Seokjin, his cooking skills and his dick, your group of friends will never, ever, let you live this one down. Although, for all of the above… it might just be worth it.

THE END

#BTS smut #bts fanfiction #seokjin smut #jin smut #jin fanfic #seokjin fanfic #seokjin x reader #seokjin x you #bts au #seokjin au #bts scenario #bts fanfic #jin x you #jin x reader #bts jin #seokjin fanfiction #jin fanfiction #yoonjinkooked #jin scenario

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autisticzukka · 3 years

Note

what is this hakoda zuko arranged marriage you speak of? i am intrigued

okay so the long story short is that it’s a slight rebuttal of a popular post that is very fun but i find like... unrealistic in a really intriguing way like, how would this ACTUALLY play out. I’ve talked about it at length in my server a few times, and it’s one of those AU’s -- like the genderbend zukka ATLA rewrite or the zukki fic that starts with sokka failing to assassinate zuko -- that lives rent free in my head and I’ve written a couple thousand words for.

tw for like VERY unrequited zuko in love with hakoda and the inherent comedy of sokka being in love with his fire nation stepmom.

so here’s hakoda, chief of the southern water tribe, happily not-married to Bato. and here is a more balanced war, where the north and the south are actually allies, rather than whatever the fuck they were in ATLA. Yue already has a fiance and the Northern chief refuses to remarry. that leaves hakoda responsible for biting the bullet and doing a political marriage even though, as he points out at length, he is an elected official and if he stops being elected it’s no longer a marriage with the chief of the south pole. intelligently but mostly selfishly motivated (yue’s fiance is his nephew, after all) pakku points out that its not like the fire nation knows... that. the fire nation is dumb. ozai’s stupid.

faced with such inarguable points hakoda stiffens his upper lip, pre-emptively ends things with bato on the understanding that if this is another kya situation they’ll get back together and that he’s still the most important person to him but the tribe comes first yada yada, and deals with katara throwing the mother of all tantrums. it is slightly softened by the fact that in return for him marrying the fire nation noble, a thing everyone can agree isn’t traditional, the north has finally agreed to train katara. she heads out before the wedding, in protest but also so as to not cause an international incident.

(on her way, she’ll find aang. with the war less dire, katara will be sympathetic towards his desire to live without committing violence, even if she deeply can’t relate. they’ll have a hot girl romcom summer of self discovery and coming to terms with the dichotomy between duty and love as they become master benders. at some point they pick up toph. they ARE a throuple.)

sokka meanwhile is like.. not cool with it.. but ? kind of relieved? like. he’s the eldest kid. he’s 18, and he’s been a man of the tribe as far as legalities for several years. it would have been entirely understandable if his dad had asked HIM to do it. he had his emotionally crushing romance with yue, and as much as he was like ‘im kind of a prince’, he finds he doesn’t actually want some of the responsibilities and demands that would bring. yue’s life sucks.

back in the fire nation, zuko never demanded a quest and never went on it. he’s spent years hardening into something that, while brittle, can survive the pressures of the court around him. he still has his scar. he still wants his father to love him, but he knows by now that it’s not something he’s capable of earning. he watches his sister, never the most stable person, start to have complete breakdowns of sanity once she hits puberty, and helps her cover for it and receive medical treatment on the down low. he’s the heir, but he lives knowing that if he was ever in a position to inherit his choices are to abdicate or have the baby sister who he raised kill him and destroy herself and the country in the process.

when he realizes the plan is to marry azula off rather than someone more reasonable-- mai is RIGHT there, for fucks sake-- he doesn’t realize ozai’s true intent is to fuck this up through malicious compliance and false shows of good faith. he panics, and does the zuko thing: he blurts out that this is unacceptable and immoral and she’s only 16 and Ozai sees the true opportunity for two birds with one stone. send zuko, let him piss someone off so badly he gets killed or divorced, and he gets rid of zuko from the line of succession permanently. there are those who are incredibly attached to teh idea of a firstborn for firelord, and it’s been a constant thorn in unpopular ozai’s side to nto be able to name azula his heir apparent without costly rebellion. but if he can taint him in the mind of the fire nation so much that birthright is easy to supercede-- yeah. this’ll work PERFECTLY.

so zuko is sent to marry hakoda, chief of the water tribe.

literally NO ONE was expecting it to be a member of Ozai’s immediate family. besides the fact that his oldest child is half hakoda’s age and his brother has 20 years on hakoda, it would have been sus as fuck - the treaty is not favorable enough to grant that kind of secession of interests. it becomes quickly apparent that this young man -- hakoda reminds himself of that repeatedly. not kid. not kid. young man. don’t think of him like a kid, it’s hard enough on both of us already. -- is not a horrible threat. he’s scared shitless and shakes with what he thinks is bravado. he’s desperate to make the marriage work. he’s desperate to not go home. he’s got a giant fucking scar on his face from where the fire lord punished him for some grievous but unstated offense.

zuko “daddy issues” fire nation sees his husband to be and, despite being scared shitless, immediately begins to soften a little. like... he’s not nearly as scary as he thought he’d be. his face can be stern, but it just as easily breaks into huge smiles, and his eyes are crinkled with laughter. he’s incredibly handsome. and his biceps are. his biceps. are. his hands are...

like. zuko thinks. okay. maybe. maybe his marriage duties. won’t be so horrible as he thought. maybe he’s ready for this. and he knows what to expect, Uncle had discreetly provided him the means and the contacts to acquire an intimate education in the whirlwind of activity that was the two months before leaving. and like, once he’d gotten past the nerves, it was often even... good? or at least... not bad? he thinks that even if hakoda isn’t a professional expert, he has a certain.... je ne sais quoi, if you will.

((DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF))

sokka sees his new stepfather and immediately falls in love because he’s that kind of dumb bitch. (the core of this au is that i cant breathe thinking about sokka falling in love with his hot young stepmom his age who his dad doesnt even want to fuck. like. i CANT. sokka masturbates to ‘hand caught in the washing tub’ fantasies which are even more absurd for requiring zuko to be DOING LAUNDRY. i find it so funny.)

bato watches them at the wedding feast while hakoda is very clearly trying to treat zuko as an Equal Adult Partner and mostly managing to seem like someone having a serious conversation with a seven year old about the game they’ve made up. zuko is clearly enamored with it, soaking up the attention, blushing and doing his best to Bravely Flirt, which at one point includes awkwardly attempting to feed Hakoda by hand. bato has to excuse himself to have a teary eyed giggle, hoping that Kya is in the spirit world looking down and laughing with him. he can’t resent the kid even a little bit, when hakoda is sitting there looking so incredibly fucking befuddled as to what he’s supposed to do with this star struck infant he’s legally wed to

anyways all of this... is very funny. their wedding night... is less so. zuko does not take the rejection from hakoda very well, especially because he’d been caught wanting. HE’S the one who should be rejecting hakoda. and he catastrophizes almost immediately about his potential value to the water tribe, his future treatment, that endless inescapable freezing cold loneliness is the good ending for him here... hakoda, meanwhile, drops zuko off at his home, reassuringly informs him that there’s NOTHING else expected of him and he will be well taken care of, and books it to bato’s. bato refuses to let him in on grounds of ‘you can’t sleep under the same shelter as me on your wedding night to that kid, have a fucking brain’, and he ends up crashing at sokka’s.

sokka, who had KNOWN that his dad wouldnt, but also upon seeing zuko and zuko’s awkward flirting was like... but how COULDNT he???? sokka is relieved.

the core of this fic is that i find it endlessly hilarious for zuko to try and seduce his husband while sokka simps around zuko and bato tries to be heartbroken or betrayed but mostly ends up with a giant case of hysterical schadenfreude. but the thing that CLINCHED it for me, like THE scene. several years after being married, settled into their life. they’re partners and they see each other as people. and zuko just fucking snaps one night

he just kisses him, desperate and clawing and climbing and maybe a little drunk. he knows hakoda is going to push him away, maybe even hit him, but he doesn’t care anymore, he doesn’t care. he can do anything he wants to him as long as he just-- finally does something. zuko is 21 and married to the surface of the sun and the surface of the sun jr is his best friend and clearly in love with him-- so clearly not even zuko can miss it-- and like. listen. listen. zuko is not a patient person. but he’s been patient for this. he waited and he matured and he is a fucking amazing husband and he wants this, he wants him. he wants to be wanted.

but hakoda doesn’t push him away. hakoda doesnt yell at him, or hit him. hakoda gentles the kiss into something soft and closed lipped. he pulls away slowly, and his eyes are so sad for zuko, so pitying. he strokes his cheek with the back of his hand so gently. he says, I’m sorry. I don’t want you.

and zuko daddy issues fire nation swallows

and he nods

and he leaves, even though its his own fucking house

and he knows he’s never going to be good enough

like FUUUCK i am OBSESSED WITH THAT

#long post #lmao i am NOT fucking main tagging this #op #asked and answered #i just want zuko to fall in love with hakoda and for hakoda to gently reject him #noncommittalhum

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tact-and-impulse · 3 years

Text

For the ‘desire’ prompt, @shepherds-of-haven! PG-13 in terms of rating.

overtime

“Fifteen minutes? Right. We understand. Then, we’ll see you soon.” He ends the phone call, looking towards his companion. “The fire department will be here in...Briony?”

The sleeves of her periwinkle blouse are rolled up to her elbows, her heels tossed aside so she can have better traction on the carpet. Her pink hair is in disarray, barely held together by her trademark ribbon, as she attempts to pry open the elevator doors. “Come on, come on! Almost...just a little more...ow!”

“Are you okay?” It only takes two steps to reach her, and he takes her hands, inspecting for any injury. Thankfully, there isn’t a scratch, but she pouts.

“Damn, it felt like I was making progress. You’re going to be late for your meeting now.”

“I already sent Tallys the documents, so she can answer any questions. More importantly,” He kisses her forehead, breathing in the cherry blossom fragrance of her lotion. “I appreciate the effort, but I don’t want you to hurt yourself. It’s not all bad, there’s no one else I’d rather be stuck with.” It’s unfortunate that this elevator broke down, but at least, it’s with his girlfriend.

She blushes to the tip of her nose, and loops her arms around his neck before she pecks his cheek. “I feel the same way. It’s really hard to pretend we aren’t dating.”

“It is.” He admits. Their office has banned workplace romances, and he never gave the policy a second thought until she was added to the team. Well, after she’d been working with them for a year, and dropped many, many hints. With her upbeat attitude, animated expressions, and sweet nature, she was instantly popular, but in hindsight, she always volunteered for his projects. He’s incredibly grateful, that despite his initial hesitance and dwelling over his personal issues, she’s chosen to love him. He removes his blazer, spreading it on the floor, and loosens his tie. “Let’s sit for now, it’ll be some time.”

“On your jacket?”

“It’s not much, but slightly better. Don’t worry, I’ll dry clean it when we get out of here.”

“Oh, fine. But tell me what you pay, I’ll pitch in.” She acquiesces, tugging the hem of her skirt over her knees. “I guess the fire department can’t come right away, we’re on the fifth floor and it’s rush hour.” Automatically, she leans against his side for comfort. “Why is it a rule anyway?”

“You mean, not dating coworkers?”

“Yeah. It’s ridiculous, you can’t stop people from falling in love.” Even her grumbling is adorable.

He can’t help smiling. “From what management said, it’s to avoid any awkwardness and undue terminations if they break up.”

“By management, that would be Blade?”

“Yes.”

“Hm, I bet he’ll change his tune when he finds someone. Or maybe, we should set him up on a blind date! There are plenty of women in the office who think he’s handsome. In a different way than you, of course!” She’s obviously flustered. “Not that we should be comparing you two, or it’s just your looks that matter. I like you more anyway. Ugh, I’m not making any sense!”

“You like me more?” He echoes.

“Now, you’re just teasing me.” However, she laughs and hugs him around the waist. “The point is, I hate the ban on office romances.”

The silence hangs over them, and he tentatively brings up his newest doubt. “If it ever becomes too troublesome, you don’t have to endure it.”

“What are you saying?!”

He meets her angry gaze, tucking a lock behind her ear. “It’s not that we should break up, but if you ever resent the secrecy, I don’t want you to be unhappy. You deserve to have your love returned without worrying about being caught.”

“But you’re worth it. Yeah, you don’t show me any favoritism, and that’s okay. I want you to treat me like part of the team. When we’re not at work, we get to hold hands and watch movies and go to the gym together. We can take weekend trips, leave Haven for a couple nights. That’d be fun, right? And if either of us ever become resentful, we should talk about it. Don’t try and do the noble thing like breaking up for my sake.” She pokes his chest, already aching from her words. Then, she sniffles. Oh no, he’s made her cry.

He pulls her in, cradling the back of her head. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Briony. You do make me very happy, the most in years. And you’re right, so I’m glad you told me.”

“That’s good.” She wipes at her eyes, her lips trembling. She tilts her face up for a kiss, though her aim is off, on the corner of his mouth.

He corrects the angle, enjoying the little noises she makes. Since they’re both inexperienced, they haven’t accomplished anything other than chaste goodbye kisses at the close of their brief dates. At this moment, they’re emotionally raw and in close quarters, a dangerous combination, and they’re hurtling into uncharted territory. It would be better to stop, to wait until they’re somewhere private, yet he can’t deny her, not now.

She crawls into his lap, deepening the kiss. Her thighs squeeze around his hips, her body heat separated only by her stockings, and he instinctively jerks in reaction. He’s concentrating on maintaining his composure, that he almost misses her murmur. “And you make me want things, things I never knew before.”

He trails his fingers over the small of her back, just above the beginning of her skirt, and feels her shiver. “What kind of things?”

“You know,” Her breath catches, as he nibbles her collarbone. “Like I’m going to burst. Like I want to be as close as possible.”

“Can you tell me how close?”

“Closer than this. It’s hot in here, isn’t it?” It’s stifling and she undoes the first button of her blouse, then the next. Inch by inch, her soft skin is revealed, and his eyes helplessly follow down, to the edge of creamy lace…

The elevator doors click and slide open. The sun’s nearly set, the windows dark. It’s the office lights that are too bright, as well as the flashlights focused on them. The fire department’s arrived, and they’re certainly receiving an eyeful.

While Briony shrieks in mortification and clutches him, he can only hold her back and try not to shrivel in embarrassment. “Sorry. Um, don’t tell human resources?”

#shepherds of haven #shepherds of summer 2021 #i've been spending a lot of time in elevators lately but nothing as entertaining as this

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bastardtetsu · 4 years

Text

critical thinking | ch④

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x gn!reader

genre: college au, enemies to lovers, tsundere!reader, slow burn

wc: 2k

warning: alcohol & drug use (oui’d), swearing

※ mlist | ① ② ③ ●

the next time you see him is at a house party.

he has to be the first person you see when you walk in too, dammit. you are not emotionally prepared for this.

after the incident during finals week you hadn’t had anymore tutoring sessions, leaving you with a weird lack of closure you’ve been trying to move past for the last couple weeks. you’d spent the whole semester wishing to be free from chemistry, and subsequently your tutor’s godawful personality - so why aren’t you more relieved?

you chalk it up to the weirdness of your last interaction with him, and the underwhelming “thank you” you gave him as you said goodbye.

not that he deserves anything more than that though, you think as you remind yourself of all the condescending smirks and patronizing remarks that made your blood boil. just because he was nice to you that one time doesn’t cancel out how annoying he is.

he does look good tonight, though, you find yourself thinking. you had almost forgotten how frustratingly hot he is, but his towering athletic form and perpetually messy black hair are quick to capture your focus and remind you. already tipsy from the pregame, you make the mistake of letting your gaze linger on him just a little too long, until his suddenly his eyes are locked with yours.

fuck. he definitely clocked you staring at him.

you quickly look away and hurry after your friends, who are already making their way into the kitchen for drinks. however, you can practically feel that laser beam stare on you as you scurry away, and it isn’t long before you notice his stupid rooster head slinking into the kitchen after you.

“all that help passing chemistry and you’re not even gonna say hi?” he says, leaning across the kitchen counter between you with that shiteating smirk plastered across his face.

you roll your eyes. “i need more alcohol in my system if i’m gonna interact with you.”

“oh? and why’s that?” he leans in, feline eyes boring into yours. they actually look kinda nice in this lighting.

“because you’re insufferable.”

“ouch, y/n, is that any way to talk to the person who so kindly saved you from failing??”

“okay fine,” you relent, only half-begrudgingly, “you did save my ass.”

“and what do we say...?” he hums.

“BUT, you’re still insufferable.”

“awwww, come on y/n!” he exclaims, draping his large upper half across the counter dramatically.

“will you shut the fuck up if I do a shot with you?”

“ooh,” he perks up with a grin, “maybe.”

“fine.”

you pour up the shots and set them on the counter between you. “to chem 1,” you say, raising your glass, “thank you.” your gratitude is genuine, which somehow makes it harder to say out loud. his face lights up with a smile at your words.

“to chem 1,” he repeats, clinking his glass against yours. his stare is burning. “you’re welcome.”

the liquid stings a bit as you knock it back, but you’re drunk enough already to not taste the bitterness. you can feel the warmth permeate your cheeks as as the alcohol enters your system. or was that there before?

“wanna dance?” he asks. your face is definitely burning now.

“absolutely not,” you reply hastily. he chuckles a bit.

“what do you wanna do then?”

“smoke.”

he’s smirking again.

“bet.”

—

there were definitely more people on the roof when you first got up there. but as the smoke fills your lungs and that familiar sense of heaviness overtakes your body, you find yourself transfixed by the smallest of things. like kuroo’s long, slender fingers brushing against yours just slightly as you pass him the blunt. or the smoke slowly escaping his barely-parted lips as he exhales.

it wasn’t until halfway through the blunt that you notice everyone else had at some point migrated back inside, leaving the two of you completely alone.

before your mind can start to panic about the sudden intimacy of the setting, his voice cuts through your thoughts.

“i have to say, i’m impressed with your skill,” he muses, referring to the blunt you had rolled for the two of you.

“thanks, believe it or not I have a few,” you respond sarcastically. he snickers at this.

“don’t worry, i’m aware,” he says as he passes back to you.

“are you??” you question, “you sure didn’t act like it when you were tormenting me all semester for not understanding chemical equations.“

he laughs. god, what a stupid laugh, you think as you take a hit from the blunt.

“sure, i mean, why else would i give you so much grief over the one thing you’re bad at?”

now it’s your turn to cackle. “ONE??? that’s funny,” you reply, a little confused by the sudden praise from him, “i figured you just thought i was stupid.”

“i mean, i definitely haven’t met anyone as bad at chemistry as you-”

“careful.”

“BUT,” he emphasizes before softening a bit, fixing his gaze on you, “i also haven’t met anyone as cool. or funny. or knowledgeable about so many things i know nothing about.”

your heartbeat speeds up. his stare is more intense than ever, almost agonizing. he’s never talked like this before. is this actually what he thinks of you? how is he looking at you so hard it physically hurts?

“...or hot.”

his words hits you like lightning, sending an electric shock through your body. is he serious?? no. yeah he’s definitely serious. right???

his eyes are practically boring into you as you sit there dumbfounded, trying to process this. he tried so hard to irritate the shit out of you… because he thinks you’re hot?? HE thinks YOU’RE hot??? oh. he tried so hard to irritate the shit out of you because he thinks you’re hot.

unless he’s still messing with you. maybe this is just a big prank on you, and he’s about to let out another godawful hyena laugh and dunk on you about this for the rest of your life.

“... are you trying to flatter me?” you ask, trying to maintain your cool.

“that depends. is it working?”

“hah. fuck off” you mutter, looking away from him. your face is burning again, & this time it’s definitely not because of the alcohol.

kuroo, on the other hand, doesn’t take his eyes off you. they’re practically glowing as he moves in and turns your face back towards him, gripping your chin with his fingers. his touch is gentler than you expected.

as he leans in, he stops right before your lips meet to see if you pull away.

you don’t.

in fact, it barely takes a second before you’re kissing him back, suddenly overwhelmed with all of the wanting you’d been suppressing for the past who knows how long. all the desire you’d been trying so hard not to feel was suddenly bursting forth as you deepened the kiss, barely thinking as you snaked a hand behind his head, entwining your fingers in his messy black hair.

he wastes no time following your cues, parting his lips for you and finding your waist with his hand, pulling your bodies closer together. your kisses, only a little sloppy with inebriation, tingle with a mounting sense of need as you grip each other tighter, your tongues beginning to tease each other’s mouths. the maelstrom of thoughts & feelings in your mind doesn’t settle, but instead becomes singularly focused on one thing: him.

the taste of his lips moving against yours, still tinged with the tobacco-y flavor of the blunt wrap. the feeling of his hair entwining with your fingers as you tighten your hold. his hands beginning to roam your body, messily gripping and caressing their way up and down your form. the smell of his dumb cologne that had been driving you crazy all semester, mixed with the faint scent of alcohol, finally engulfing you. intoxicated by both the substances and your overwhelming desire, you let your pride fall away as you lean into him, desperate for more.

when the two of you finally break apart to catch a breath, kuroo keeps his forehead pressed up against yours, eyes closed, as you both drink in the moment. his thumb draws gentle circles against your cheek while you try to find your words.

“we never finished the blunt.”

he lets out a small chuckle.

“we can save it for later,” he says softly, “i’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”

that statement sends another jolt of warmth and electricity through your body.

“for real?” you whisper, trying to catch your breath.

“was it not obvious?”

“um, no, not really,” you respond plainly. come to think of it, he did get pretty flirty with you on multiple occasions, but you’d always assumed that was just him trying to mess with you some more. he chuckles again, smirking up at you with those teasing eyes.

“you’re a dense one, you know that?”

“shut up,” you protest, your cheeks suddenly feeling hot, “maybe if you were nicer to me—“

“nicer!? i AM nice to you!”

“are not.”

“i literally did an entire final project for you so you wouldn’t fail.”

“yeah, but you were a dick about it.”

“i was not!”

“were too.”

“i bought you mcnuggets!”

“oh pardon me, romeo,” you jeer sarcastically, “how foolish of me to forget that mcnuggets are the universal currency of romance.”

“you’re right, you are foolish,” he responds with another smirk.

before you can retort, he pulls you in for another kiss, silencing you. part of you wants to yell at him, but it’s hard to focus on anything but his mouth moving against yours and his fingers gently tangling in your hair as they find their way to the back of your head.

maybe you had been dense not to notice his advances. looking back, he really had been pretty fucking obvious, but you were so focused on suppressing your own desire that the thought had never occurred to you. instead you were concentrating on everything you disliked about him, subconsciously hoping that would quell your growing infatuation.

obviously that didn’t work.

you lean deeper into the kiss, allowing your hands to graze over the toned muscles you’d wanted so badly to touch that you literally started to resent the man they belong to. you don’t even remember when or why you decided to despise the way he makes you feel, but now that you’re finally in his arms it all seems inconsequential.

“wanna get out of here?” he whispers, breaking from your lips but keeping his face barely an inch away. his gaze is on you, piercing as ever.

“and go where?” you never thought you’d be looking into his eyes so close. you finally notice the glimmer of longing buried in his stare, and you feel a sudden swell of power: you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. you always have.

“well not mcdonald’s, since apparently nuggets aren’t romantic.”

“hey, that is not what i said,” you protest, then coyly, “and didn’t you say you were gonna cook for me next time anyway?”

a smirk widens across his face. a familiar sight, which you never expected to fill you with warmth the way it does now.

“just promise no fish,” you add playfully.

“hey,” he pouts, “i’m just trying to make sure you get your docosahe—“

“kuroo, i’m gonna need you to shut the fuck up about whatever the fuck type of acid, i’m not eating your nasty ass fish”

“well what do you want then?” he complains. you shoot him a devilish smirk of your own.

“how about breakfast tomorrow?”

the look on his face is priceless: his eyes widen as his face flushes red, like he didn’t just practically invite you over himself moments ago. he stares, speechless, while you can’t help but widen your grin.

“that— that sounds. y— i can do that,” he stammers.

yeah… you can get used to this.

a/n: writing this hurt my feelings bc it reminded me how long it’s been since i made out with someone dsdsxzds but there u have it folks !! i really hope you all enjoyed reading this lil fic of mine :) & happy bday to the insufferable smartass who owns my heart ♡

#haikyuu!!#kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #haikyuu x reader #.txt #happy birthday shithead <3 #e writes

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 3 years

Text

Me, throughout the entirety of 6x05:

And I suppose I could just leave it there but NO, we’re doing a LIST. Of all the excellent things from “Prom Night!”

SPOILERS!

AV Club reviewer giving this episode the first ‘A’ of the season: :D

AV Club reviewer still insisting that “Midvale” was filler: D:<

Forever destined to disagree with the AV Club reviews in some way or another...

Okay, so! We begin with a very helpful reminder from Alex that things are different, in this Post-Crisis World!

(I mean, on the one hand, am I slightly distressed that key aspects of the Pilot and the WHOLE of “Midvale” are now gone, along with Earth-38? Yes.

On the other, Kara remembers her lived-experiences of everything that had transpired in the Earth-38 timeline, so they still sorta happened and have informed her characterization.

So...it’s fine. It’s fine. This is fine.)

I do love that, ‘Kara punched a meteorite out of the sky’ is now a Thing That Happened, though.

(Well perhaps NOT ANYMORE but I’m getting ahead of myself.)

KENNY LIIIIIIIIIIIIIVES!!!!!

“Scooby-Duo” listen, as someone who has already imagined all these kiddos in Hanna-Barbera cartoon style, running around Midvale, solving crimes and saving the day, I loved this description.

Alex being like, ‘DO. NOT. SCREW UP. MY PAST.’ ahhhhh we love to see that scary Older Sibling energy on full display.

And then Brainy and Nia are off to the past!

The only thing that could’ve made the utterance of ‘totes’ worse would’ve been the addition of, ‘magotes’. Thank goodness they exercised restraint in the writers’ room.

FORTUNATELY the terrible ordeal of reliving dated slang is offset by some truly excellent lines and line-reads throughout the rest of the episode.

For instance! Loved Brainy’s, ‘the perfect optical illusion’ and ‘off the dash, please.’ So great.

Other honorable mentions: ‘Damn it, Mitch!’ ‘That’s a LOT of exposure’ and I forget the line itself but when Cat’s like, ‘normal town my a--’ and then the cut to commercial break AAAAAHHHHHH so good.

Okay, back to the episode, Nia and Brainy, on the Legion Cruiser, AND THEN!

AND THEN AND THEN AND THEN!

OUR KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDS!!!!!

I love them. It won’t happen, but gosh, I want a Midvale spin-off so bad.

Like, the Crisis retcon made some space in the girls’ past for a spin-off to actually...kinda work.

(But sustaining the premise across multiple episodes/seasons would be tricky and there would always be the threat of running up against like. The current show’s continuity.

But hey! They could just ignore it, I guess! That’s what the Superman show is doing!) *insert frowny emoji here*

So the kids have gathered with Alex for milkshakes, which is delightful.

But ALL IS NOT WELL! As Alex reads about the ‘luckiest town’ and is like:

(Except with a lot more anxiety and frowning)

I feel as though we already knew Alex went to Stanford but I can’t remember if Kara’s (terrible) resume revealed that she went to National City University?

*Checks* Yes it did.

Another thing I LOVE is just. Alex as the Responsible One, whose anxiety is perpetually cranked to a 9.5, driving the Scooby-Duo around in the suburban mom van for super-ing jobs.

Also, ‘super-ing’ is an excellent verb, 15/10

Young Cat Grant! ....More on her later.

Nicole and Jesse did such a great job with the comedy in this episode--their initial attempt at a cover story/lie is so good.

And the masterful transition into an actual good lie that Nia knew would win Kara over...VERY NICE.

Kara being so obviously thrilled that there are OTHER ALIENS! WITH POWERS! HERE, IN MIDVALE! RIGHT HERE!

Fandom has ruined the whole ‘Kara has golden retriever energy’ as is their way but I must say...very much getting ‘excited puppy energy’ here.

Nia and Kara comparing powers was so CUUUUUUUUTE!!!!

As was the picture on Kenny’s desk of him and Kara. D’aaaawwww.

(But OH NO SADNESS...BECAUSE A BREAKUP IS IMMINENT.)

Okay in addition to all of the incredibly adorable content we also get lots of FAMILY FEEEEEEELINGS, which: Yes, good, yes.

But Eliza is only here as a PICTURE on Kara’s nightstand and a NAME on Alex’s badge, I am sad. :C

(Hope Helen Slater is in this last season at some point...need that soothing mom energy after all the Phantom Zone angst)

I think I’m out of order now but Kenny wanting to help Kara help people is just. The most adorable thing.

Spoiler alert: I use the word ‘adorable’ a lot in this list. Sorry...but also not.

The Brainy music when he’s in the school computer lab watching the printer is really great. I think we’ve heard it before, but it meshed so well with the whole vibe of both the character and the episode, just stood out nicely, I guess.

Okay, so. Do we think that Jesse could always do the baseball bat tricks, and the writers wrote it in, or do we think that he learned them for the show? My money is on the former.

Either way, very impressive.

And now for the truck situation! I kinda thought it would turn out that it was Cat’s doing, as she was trying to suss out the ‘super’, but nope, it was the blue dudes.

(Which makes more sense, since they have no qualms about endangering other people.)

And ON THAT NOTE, the blue guys! They are the perfect level of ridiculous, and they are wonderfully straightforward in ways that the Phantoms are not.

Also, I love that one of them is named Mitch?

Nia and Kara save the day!

After Kara busts the brakes and is like, ‘uhhh....they’re not working’

I noticed the Metropolis license plate and while yes it’s a little strange that plates are...apparently city-based in this corner of Earth Prime, stranger still is that Cat presumably drove clear across the country to check out this story. Right? Like, that’s the only way she has that plate out in Midvale?

Wait, wait. Totally forgot to mention Kara and Nia’s EXTREMELY OBVIOUS ‘don’t be suspicious’ sunglasses gambit at the Midvale College campus you absolute DORKS.

Right, so.

Remember those FAMILY FEELZ??? WELL!

We’ve got Nia’s call to her mom, which, oof. OOOOOF.

And then we have even MORE FEELINGS aka: The garage talk.

Okay. OKAY. So even though I’m a little sad “Midvale” no longer occurred in Earth Prime’s timeline, I am fascinated by the ways this new series of events have impacted Alex, Kara, and their past. (Also thrilled that Kenny lives, natch). Alex’s resentment and the burden of ‘protect Kara, PROTECT KARA’ have been left to simmer while Kara’s determination to help people has led to some...earnest but slightly careless secret hero work. The building blocks of the conflict introduced in “Midvale” are still there so while it might at first seem a little...repetitive, for Alex to lay all this out to Kara, it’s really just the reveal of a new boiling point; a post-crisis update on the scene in Midvale where Alex is like, ‘I had two parents before you showed up.’

AAAAAAAAAHHHHH IT’S EMOTIONALLY DEVESTATING I LOVE IT.

And then like. The new, but also not-new angle, of Alex leveraging her world-weariness against Kara’s youthful optimism/somewhat reckless desire to help, and then Kara throwing BACK that she’s explored other solar systems.

The LAYERS.

Also that Alex is like, ‘we need weapons, let’s tell mom and also call the DEO,’ classic Alex.

The garage talk ends with Kara determined to come clean to Kenny...BUT OH NO, THE HERO HIDEOUT IS SO CUTE, AND KENNY IS SO DEAR.

And the reveal that the almost-kiss in “Midvale” actually happened d’awwwww these kids.

Like. I am legitimately torn, here. I totally understand and support Kara in being honest with Kenny about the whole college situation--but also GAH. KENNY IS SO NICE AND CUTE AND EARNEST.

You know what ELSE is nice and cute and earnest?

Nia singing “9 to 5″ to Brainy to cope with stress and boost morale.

Heckin’ adorable, gosh.

Aaaaaand some other stuff occurred as the episode closed out but I don’t have them in my notes and BASICALLY I want the next hour like, now. Right now. Because this was WONDERFUL. FROM START TO FINISH.

So some Overall thoughts!

I said we’d get to Cat ‘CJ’ Grant later, so here we are: I...think I liked her? Overall? It was a performance that gradually won me over, is how I would describe it.

Absolutely wild that Cat built a media empire in a mere six years.

Also her whole, ‘I am going to find this extraordinary being and name them and kick Lois Lane into the classifieds’...I mean she eventually gets two out of three, there.

As I already started to mention, sad that Eliza wasn’t here! But it makes sense, since a lot of this, Kara is trying to keep on the DL.

Obviously, I am ALWAYS down for these flashback situations with the young Danvers. But it was also nice to take a break from the Phantom stuff. The plot here is simple/streamlined in a way the Phantom stuff...isn’t. I love the emotional character stuff coming out of the Phantom Zone arc but wow, the Phantoms are just. Needlessly complicated.

The little episode recap where Lena is explaining that Phantom Prime is like a bloodhound was like, ‘oh right, they do that too...in addition to all the other stuff that they apparently do.’

So, yes. Welcome change.

The change of scenery + type of action was nice too!

Though RIP to everyone’s hair, fighting against the moisture.

This episode also handled the Brainy/Nia relationship really well, IMO. Like, due to the whole, ‘trying to fit so much in, always’ approach to Supergirl episodes sometimes results in a bit of...one-sidedness, for various characters. Think for instance of Kelly needing to cheer everyone on in episode 2, but not having space for her own feelings/emotional needs in that episode.

I’ve felt that a bit with Brainy and Nia thus far--one will sort of take up more narrative space, so the relationship feels a little lopsided.

NOT SO HERE! They are both going through some stuff, they are both struggling to cope, they both come to rely on one another for help.

YES. GOOD. YES!!!!

Something I’m loving about season 6 overall is that so far, it doesn’t feel like the plot is stepping on character development too much. Like, it still isn’t a perfect balance, and some episodes manage it better than others, but compared to season 5? Leaps and bounds.

Everything was so nicely tied together and the dialogue was witty, the humor was delightful, EVERYONE WAS ADORABLE AND EARNEST AND DID I MENTION ADORABLE?* but they never lost sight of the themes and emotional through-lines and GAAAAAHHHHHH MIDVALE EPISODES ARE THE BEEEEEESTTTTTTTTT!

*Okay Alex was mainly stressed out but that’s to be expected.

TL;DR - Best episode of the season thus far? Best episode of the season thus far.

#SG post #long post #supergirl spoilers #supergirl season 6 spoilers #gif

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fireinmywoods · 4 years

Text

the heart of the matter (is Leonard McCoy)

Followers...friends. I come to you today, hat in hand, to ask for your support in a certain fandom matter, a trifling concern of little real consequence which nevertheless has been driving me absolutely cross-eyed bonkers for some years now.

Simply put: can we please all agree that Bones is the heart of the Enterprise???

In AOS, I mean. I’m not aware of any debate over this when it comes to TOS, where the roles of the triumvirate have always been explicit, though there are a few different ways to identify them:

Spock = logos = superego = head

Bones = pathos = id = heart

Kirk = ethos = ego = soul

So clear! So clean! So universally accepted by Trek fandom at large!

Oh, but things get murkier in AOS, and there are plenty of posts floating around which suggest that it’s Kirk, not McCoy, who serves as the heart in the Kelvin timeline. Even the writers of the first two AOS films have outright stated that their interpretation of the triumvirate had the original roles switched, with Kirk as the highly emotional one and McCoy as the arbiter between Kirk’s passion and Spock’s logic. It’s true that this technically counts as a Word of God pronouncement by the actual creators of 2/3 of the series thus far, which some would argue renders it canon. However, it’s equally true that those same creators also felt that Kirk was a fuckboi and that Benedict Cumberbatch wonderfully embodied their vision for Khan Noonien Singh, so honestly, who gives a hot hollerin’ fuck what those dingdongs think. This seems as justified a time as any to invoke Death of the Author, and in fact, it’s my firm belief that despite the writers’ intentions, Star Trek and Into Darkness both support the original triumvirate breakdown.

Under the cut you’ll find a long-winded and self-indulgent ~*~character analysis~*~ of the Kelvin-timeline incarnations of Jim Kirk and Leonard “Bones” McCoy, reviewing why Leonard is still unmistakably the heart, unpacking what the hell Jim’s deal is, and finally taking a look at some key examples from canon, because ya girl believes in showing her work.

Let’s get down to business.

[A quick warning, as this is starting to spread beyond my own followers: if you don’t like McKirk as a romantic pairing, you ain’t gonna like part IV, so I’d bow out before then or just take your leave now.]

i. Leonard

Independent of Jim’s characterization, it should be blindingly obvious that Leonard is the heart. He’s by far the most nakedly emotional of our seven core crew members, a trait we see writ large and small throughout the films. He’s reactive; he’s passionate; he’s humane. He cares, first and foremost.

Not about Starfleet, of course. Leonard doesn’t give a damn about playing the game or advancing his career, or even really about the Enterprise’s mission - he has no desire to explore strange new worlds, he’ll pass on seeking out new life and new civilizations, and he spends half his time trying to convince everyone else that boldly going where no man has gone before is a great way to die horribly. Fuck exploration, fuck space, and fuck the Federation while we’re at it. Leonard is perhaps the most improbable of the Enterprise’s senior officers for the simple reason that he seems to resent everything about the job.

Well. Almost everything.

See, what Leonard cares about is people. He cares about their lives, about their stories, about their hopes and dreams, about their suffering. That’s why he entered and has stayed in an extremely taxing caring profession, and it’s why he’s still on the Enterprise despite his incessant bitching about everything they do. He wouldn’t trust anyone else to take care of the crew he’s become so attached to, and he finds fulfillment in helping the people they encounter out there in the nightmare of space.

In every timeline, Leonard McCoy defines himself by what he can do for others: the pain he can ameliorate, the wounds he can heal, the diseases he can cure, the small amounts of good he can bring to a galaxy filled with so much absolute horseshit. Unlike most of his colleagues, he’s not motivated by curiosity or an adventurer’s spirit or a burning desire to make sense of the universe. (Fuck the universe, too, as a matter of fact.) Instead, he’s driven by the incredible depths of his compassion and empathy and concern for the people he serves alongside and those they meet along the way.

Sure sounds like the heart to me.

ii. Jim

I actually totally get why some people characterize Kelvin-timeline Jim as the heart. He’s quite literally a different man than the original timeline’s Kirk, and he definitely has more of the pathos qualities to him. Early on, he’s a total spitfire, fierce and hot-blooded, quick to anger and other sharp-edged emotions we’re not used to associating with James T. Kirk. Even as he grows into himself and leaves some of those traits behind, he remains spontaneous, passionate, protective, and self-sacrificing - easy enough to mistake for the heart if you squint.

But let’s not confuse having a heart for being the heart. Sure, Jim is more openly emotional and reactive than his TOS counterpart, but there’s still a marked difference between the way he and Leonard express and act on their emotions.

AOS Jim definitely has a lot of feelings - big ones - but at the end of the day, he’s not driven by his heart. He’s driven by his gut.

Whenever there’s trouble, Jim makes a beeline right for the center of it. He’s impulsive as hell, rarely pausing to think past his first instinct, because he just wants to be doing something, no matter the odds, no matter what it costs him. He explicitly calls himself out on this in ST:ID when arguing with Spock: “I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. I only know what I can do.” He doesn’t have the patience or the constitution to sit and debate all the options, either internally or with his crew. If there’s a path forward from where he is, even a bad one, Jim’s gonna take it.

[Sidebar: One could make the case that the roots of Jim’s instinct to act reach back to his childhood traumas - canonically ignored abuse and neglect on the one hand, and the Tarsus IV famine and massacre on the other - but that’s a whole post on its own and we ain’t got all day here.]

Jim can’t not act, and while that gets him into a lot of trouble, it also saves lives. Sulu probably appreciated that Jim’s gut drove him to leap off Nero’s drilling platform without a moment’s hesitation after a man he’d only just met. He may have been a real shithead about it, but Jim’s impassioned insistence on going after the Narada and not wasting time on the possibility of a better option was key to saving Pike and Earth itself. And I don’t know why Spock was so surprised that Jim intervened to save him on Nibiru, considering that the reason they were there in the first place was because Jim couldn’t sit back and watch the Nibirans die when there was something his crew could do to help them, even if it meant risking a violation of the Prime Directive.

Jim is a good man with a big heart, and he cares about people, absolutely. But he cares most of all about Doing The Right Thing - which in the heat of the moment often translates to Doing Something, Anything, Hold My Beer.

iii. heart vs. gut (i.e., time for some receipts)

I think one of the main reasons Leonard and Jim’s characterizations get confused is because they both tend to act on instinct, only lightly informed by higher reasoning. However, I’d argue that their motivations and the nature of those actions are super distinct, and those distinctions remain relatively consistent throughout all three films. (And y’all know I really mean this shit if I’m out here calling ST:ID consistent.)

Jim is a big picture guy, figuratively and often literally heaving himself full-body into the mix of whatever problem the crew has encountered for lack of any better alternative. That energy propels the plots of all three films: the chaotic path he carves through the events of Star Trek and ST:ID, and the slightly calmer but still undeniably bananas course he charts for himself and his crew in the second half of Beyond.

As the heart, Leonard operates on a more micro level. His concern invariably lies with the individual people caught up in those grand events Captain Chaos is busy dragging them all through. While Jim’s zooming around flipping plot switches, Leonard can always be counted on to bring it back to the personal.

We frequently see this juxtaposed right there on film. Think of that slow pan through medbay in the first movie after the Narada’s ambush and the destruction of Vulcan: while Jim is stewing over what to do about the Big Bad, Leonard has stepped into the CMO role without fuss or fanfare to care for the wounded crew and traumatized survivors.

Or jump ahead to Beyond: during Krall’s attack on the Enterprise, there’s a gorgeous cinematic shot of Jim sprinting down the corridor with two crew members to take on the invaders - and then we cut to Leonard moving slowly through those same ghastly red-lit corridors, searching for casualties in need of help, visibly affected by what his scanner is telling him about the downed crewman he tries to save.

Actually, Beyond as a whole does terrific justice to each of their roles. (Perhaps because it was not written by dingdongs.) The first act finds Jim flailing around for a sense of purpose and forward momentum - an understandable consequence of a gut-driven character having stalled out for too long - and he ultimately gets his mojo back by spending the rest of the film careening through one insane seat-of-his-pants ploy after another. Meanwhile, in the quieter moments between all the mayhem, Leonard serves as the empathetic sounding board for both Jim and Spock as they struggle with deep emotionally charged secrets and Big Life Questions, helping them untangle their feelings and reminding them of the emotional attachments which are ultimately key to their respective decisions to stay on the Enterprise.

More examples, you say? Don’t mind if I do!

Star Trek

GUT: Jim hurtles around the Narada, improvising almost every step of the way and paying the price for his and Spock’s scheme in bodily harm, and ultimately succeeds in rescuing Pike. HEART: Leonard calls out for Jim as he runs into the transporter room, overwhelmed with relief that he’s made it back, and takes Chris Pike’s weight literally and figuratively onto his own shoulders to begin healing him while Jim runs back off to the center of the action.

Star Trek: Into Darkness

GUT: Jim argues with Leonard, Spock, and Scotty in quick succession as he’s preparing to drag them all off to Qo’noS, immune to their attempts to reason with him because, unraveled as he is by grief and pain, he can only focus on his visceral drive to Do Something. HEART: Unlike the others, Leonard is upset not about the larger moral questions of whether it’s right to go after John Harrison or bring torpedoes aboard the ship, but about the fact that Jim himself is hurt and hurting and won’t accept help.

GUT: Jim makes a snap decision to sacrifice himself by hurling his body against the warp core to realign it and save his crew. HEART: Shellshocked by the emotional grenade of his best friend’s death, Leonard suddenly realizes, through the haze of his own numbness and upswelling grief, that he might still be able to do something for this lonely radiation-ravaged body he’s been brought and the life it represents.

Star Trek Beyond

GUT: At the tail end of an improvised plan to out-maneuver Kalara, Jim quite literally shoots first and asks questions later, igniting a fuel tank and setting off an explosive series of events which he and Chekov just barely escape. HEART: The next time we see Leonard, Spock is opening up to him about Ambassador Spock’s death and his own plan to leave Starfleet for New Vulcan - and while he’s empathetic toward Spock (I can’t imagine what that must feel like), Leonard’s thoughts go immediately to the emotional impact of Spock’s plan on the other people he’s closest with. (I can see how that would upset [Nyota]. / I can tell you, [Jim]’s not gonna like that.)

GUT: Jim frantically strains to reach the final switch in the life support hub, believing that he’s going to die either way since the vent has already opened, but spurred on by the knowledge that his ability to move that switch is the only thing standing between Yorktown and annihilation. HEART: Knowing exactly what’s at stake, with the fate of the station and millions of lives hanging in the balance, Leonard’s greatest concern is that Jim won’t make it out in time.

iv. never bet against the heart

Let’s wrap this up with a deep dive on one of the absolute best examples of Leonard as the heart: his decision to sneak Jim onto the Enterprise in the first movie.

As relentlessly as I drag him for the, you know, poisoning and kidnapping aspects of that whole deal, there’s no denying that it is a god-tier heart move. Is it logical? Absolutely not. Is it really the right thing to do for either himself or Jim, as far as he knows at the time? Nope. It’s 100% the wrong choice for his own job security, reputation, and relationships with his fellow crew, and it’s almost guaranteed to get Jim into even worse trouble. Leonard is a smart dude who must understand that this course of action will likely end up coming back on them both in a real bad way. For someone who argues loudly and often in defense of self-preservation, this is a shockingly bad idea.

But none of that matters, because Jim shakes his hand and tells him to be safe with that horrible empty-eyed smile, and it gets him right in the heart, one-two-three.

One: sympathy, worry, and affection for Jim - his best friend, his wild and troublesome stray, his only family.

Two: guilt over adding onto Jim’s pain, and the instinctive urge to fix whatever‘s hurting him.

Three: fear of heading out into the unknown by himself, the agonizing uncertainty of not knowing what’s coming, craving for the security and reassurance Jim’s presence would give him.

“Dammit,” Leonard says, as his heart wins out over his brain. He knows this is a garbage plan, and he doesn’t care. His heart chooses Jim. That’s all that matters.

So he goes back for Jim, and to his own surprise it turns out that this Very Bad Idea was actually a Very Good Idea because Jim’s impulsive instincts end up saving Earth, and Leonard’s not in the habit of fixing what ain’t broke so he figures he may as well keep on chasing Jim’s crazy ass around the galaxy for a while, through jungles and off cliffs and into the goddamn afterlife when need be, until finally one day Jim’s gut drives him right into Leonard’s arms and he suddenly realizes that this is what his heart was choosing all those years ago: Jim’s wide terrified eyes, Jim’s voice breaking over his name, Jim’s hand pressing hard against his chest, reaching out for what’s his.

But that’s another story.

#mckirk #otp: bedside manner #fic related #palimpsest verse #@animetrashmuffin is a gift #several people messaged me when i vague-tagged about this a while back #but you're the one who had to listen to me rant at great length about this while i was sick so CONGRATS PAL THIS MESS IS FOR YOU #mccoy #kirk #star trek #aos #long post

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rosethornewrites · 4 years

Text

Fic: the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break

Relationship: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Wēn Qíng, Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín

Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Secrets, Crying, Masks, Soulmates, Truth

Summary: Following the return of Wen Ning's spiritual cognition, Wei WuXian doesn't pull away quickly enough to avoid Lan WangJi discovering his secret.

Notes: This isn’t connected to try to praise the mutilated world. I’m also not sure whether it’ll just be a one-shot or if it’ll insist on being more. This is more compliant with The Untamed series as opposed to the novel. The title is from a Chinese proverb.

AO3 link

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Wei Ying pulls away from him, but too late.

Lan WangJi had caught his wrist with the intent of giving him spiritual energy to help heal from the injury caused by Wen QiongLin’s unconscious fury.

He disregards Wei Ying’s protestations about not needing spiritual energy for such a small thing and turns toward him, feeling a growing sort of horror. He knows what he felt.

“Wei Ying.”

Lan WangJi lets his voice carry enough insistence that Wei Ying goes silent mid-sentence.

“What has happened to your golden core?”

He doesn’t expect the raw fear and grief and exhaustion in Wei Ying’s eyes, the way he stumbles back a few steps as though struck. His mouth opens, then shuts again, and he turns away.

Lan WangJi hears a sigh behind him, and turns to find Wen Qing, accompanied by Wen QiongLin. She advances and places a hand on Wei Ying’s arm.

“Wei WuXian, that no one realized before now is a miracle,” she tells him.

Which lets him know that somehow Wen Qing knew. He remembers, when Wei Ying interrupted the banquet at Koi Tower, his assertion that Wen Qing and Wen QiongLin helped him during the war, his absolute insistence that he owed them his protection…

Wen Qing presses a finger to a meridian on Wei Ying’s back, and he coughs up bad blood from his injury, staggering.

Shockingly, she then turns to Lan WangJi and bows respectfully. “Hangaung-Jun, we have no tea to offer, only water. We will leave you to your conversation.”

Wen QiongLin sets down a tray with a teapot and two cups, and Wen Qing grabs him by the sleeve to yank him from the room.

This leaves them alone, Wei Ying still hunched from his position coughing up blood, as though frozen, his eyes distant. He looks vulnerable, more so than Lan WangJi has ever seen.

Lan WangJi had always had difficulty with words. He knows he has driven Wei Ying away through his words before, and does not want to do so again. So instead of speaking, he reaches out slowly, as though to one of his rabbits so as not to startle, and gently grasps Wei Ying’s elbow, leading him to a seat. He pours water into one of the small cups, presses it into Wei Ying’s hand when he doesn’t take it.

This is what finally snaps Wei Ying from his fugue, his eyes finally losing their distance as he eyes the cup, then looks up. He seems to be searching Lan WangJi’s face for something, wariness painted in his expression.

He stays still, letting him search; perhaps he will find what his words have failed to convey. Nearly a minute passes before Wei Ying looks away, curling in on himself just slightly. Lan WangJi sits across from him, pours his own cup of water as though it is tea.

Wei Ying’s entire posture is defensive, as though he expects to be attacked, and he can only feel regret that he has led him to believe he ever would.

“Wei Ying, when did you lose your golden core?” he finally asks.

“I didn’t lose it,” Wei Ying mutters, almost petulant. “I know exactly where it is.”

It’s so cryptic, Lan WangJi can only stare at him, reminded of just a few hours ago when Wei Ying claimed to have given birth to Wen Yuan with such a deadpan expression and tone he had for a moment doubted reality.

“Ah, your face.” A ghost of a smile flits over Wei Ying’s face, fleeting, but his tone is just tired.

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying seems to deflate, and sets down his untouched cup, running a finger around the rim. “I gave it to Jiang Cheng. He doesn’t know. Wen Zhuliu.”

Lan WangJi’s mind reels at the idea. Giving up one’s golden core—that it’s even possible. But he has no doubt that Wei Ying speaks the truth; he has always given so much of himself. The evidence of how much he would give, his lack of self-preservation, is both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

“When? How?”

“After Lotus Pier…” he trails off as though finishing is too hard. “Wen Ning helped me get him back. Even managed to get Uncle Jiang and Madam Yu, their bodies, away so they could be put to rest.”

Wei Ying’s voice has grown detached and clinical, as though he’s emotionally disconnected himself from what occurred.

“He took us to the Yiling Supervisory Office and hid us. Wen Qing let him. And when I found out she’d written a paper theorizing the possibility of core transfer, I insisted. Told Jiang Cheng I was taking him to BaoShan SanRen. He thinks it’s his own, restored. I won’t tell him otherwise.”

The last sentence is spoken more forcefully, as though he fears Lan WangJi will interfere with his wishes. But what Wei Ying decides to tell Jiang WanYin is not his business, though perhaps the latter would behave in a manner more befitting as a brother if he knew what Wei Ying had sacrificed on his behalf.

He falls silent for a while, and Lan WangJi waits, asking nothing, trusting Wei Ying will decide what he wishes to share.

“Then Wen Chao caught me and threw me here.”

His throat tightens as he realizes just how helpless Wei Ying had been against Wen Chao, against the resentful energy of this place, how terrified and alone he must have been...

“I did what I had to, to survive.”

It comes out a harsh whisper, and Lan WangJi realizes Wei Ying is shaking, sees the dark circles under his eyes that he suddenly realizes have been ever-present since the Sunshot Campaign, since he returned from being missing and presumed dead for three months.

Wei Ying smiles suddenly, but it’s a broken, self-loathing one. “And so I walk the crooked path. It’s the only path I can walk, to protect the weak and seek justice. Regardless of the weapon I was in wartime, I am reviled for it. Even you—”

“I do not revile Wei Ying,” he interrupts, ignoring the Lan rule against it, frustrated that Wei Ying has referred to himself as little more than a weapon, an object of power—further because that is exactly how he has been treated. “I have never reviled Wei Ying.”

“You wanted me to submit to punishment at the hands of your sect,” Wei Ying hisses.

Lan WangJi feels as though he has been slapped. Was that how Wei Ying had interpreted his request to come to Gusu?

“No,” he whispers. “For protection. For healing. Never for punishment. Never.”

For a moment, Wei Ying looks flummoxed, more vulnerable than Lan WangJi has ever seen him. Then he hides it under derision.

“‘Reject the crooked path,’” Wei Ying recites. “‘Do not associate with evil.’ I copied the Lan principles enough to memorize them, you know. I recited them at Indoctrination, even, at least until Wen Chao interrupted me. So rude. Sometimes I wonder if I let him off too easy...”

Abruptly, Lan WangJi realizes he’s being pushed away, that this is how Wei Ying seeks to protect himself. But this time, he’s not willing to go.

“Wei Ying is not evil.”

The broken smile appears again. “Oh, didn’t you hear? I dig up graveyards and steal naughty children away in the night. Who knows, maybe I even sacrifice virgins. Honestly, I can’t be expected to remember these things; you know my memory.”

He’s heard those terrible rumors, most recently at a tea house in Yiling earlier today. He doesn’t wish to hear them again, particularly not from him as though he believes them. He knows Wei Ying is trying to derail away from the topic of his golden core, from anything serious, hiding behind flippancy, trying to draw him into a semantic argument.

“Wei Ying,” he pleads.

Wei Ying’s face goes carefully blank. “Lan Zhan, I have no other path to walk. There is no righteous path for me, only the crooked one.”

“You do not walk it by choice.”

He laughs shortly, without humor. “Does that even matter?”

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation.

Wei Ying looks away at that, and Lan WangJi can see the way the muscles in his throat work, as though he’s fighting tears. There’s a long stretch of silence.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying finally says, very softly, his voice tight, almost regretful. “I can’t go to Gusu with you, Lan Zhan.”

Lan WangJi comes to a decision so quickly it almost leaves him reeling. ‘Do not act impulsively’ be damned; he’s caused enough pain to Wei Ying. It is easy to disregard that rule now.

“Then I will stay here.”

The myriad of emotion that passed across Wei Ying’s face is astonishing and quick like his mind—alarm, fear, confusion, but more importantly a heartbreak mix of longing and vulnerable hope.

Then it’s gone, replaced with a resolute set in his jaw, and Wei Ying stands. “No.”

Lan WangJi calmly finishes his cup of water and pours himself another before repeating. “I will stay here and help Wei Ying.”

“You can’t! You can’t stay. You have responsibilities—“

“Brother will understand.”

Wei Ying starts pacing, agitated. “No. Throwing in with the Yiling Patriarch will ruin your reputation.”

“I do not care about reputation.” He keeps his voice placid.

Wei Ying makes a frustrated sound and stops pacing in favor of glaring at him. “Why? Why would you throw it away?”

Lan WangJi stands, leaving Bichen leaning against the rickety table. In many cases this would be seen as disrespect of one’s cultivation levels, implying one sees them as no threat, but he means it as a sign of trust; he hopes Wei Ying understands that. He moves until he is within arm length. It takes him a moment to find the words.

“Bi sheng zhi ji.” He frowns when Wei Ying flinches. “You once called me this. I should have come with you at Qiongpi Path. I failed you, then.”

“You didn’t,” Wei Ying insists. “I didn’t ask you to come, or expect you to. I knew how I’d be seen, how they’d talk. You deserve better.”

Lan WangJi remembers; Wei Ying had expected him to stop him, to fight against him; had asked that when it came to the fight he believed and probably still believes is inevitable, that Lan WangJi be the one to kill him. The memory still hurts.

“As does Wei Ying,” he finally says, pushing the memory away. It won’t come to that; he won’t let it.

He suddenly realizes that Wei Ying is shaking slightly, his posture deflated as though he knows he has lost the argument. His eyes are wet, his throat moving soundlessly again.

“I can’t… I’ve already damned myself, Lan Zhan. I can’t damn you too.” Wei Ying grabs his arm. “Don’t you get it? I’ll just drag you down, too!”

For a moment, he’s speechless. This isn’t unusual, but rarely is it due to this much emotion. That Wei Ying thinks so poorly of himself shakes Lan WangJi to his core, and he can only wonder how long he has felt this way.

But Wei Ying has never defended himself against jibes and insults, only ever stepping in to defend those he cares for—and sometimes even complete strangers. Does he truly believe he deserves to be treated poorly, to be reviled and left without protection or aid?

“No,” he says finally, when he finds the words. “Wei Ying could only ever lift me up.”

Lan WangJi isn’t prepared for Wei Ying’s tears; he’s brought back to Cloud Recesses, his concern that he was crying when he was really goofing off. He’s never seen him actually cry.

He feels frozen, uncertain what to do, but when Wei Ying sways and his knees seem to buckle, he surges forward to draw him close, to ease him down to prevent injury.

Unlike everything else Wei Ying does, he cries silently, like he’s used to doing so alone and without burdening others, his face bowed against Lan WangJi’s chest, his breaths coming in short gasps, his shoulders shaking as they once had at Cloud Recesses—though not then from crying.

As the minutes pass, Lan WangJi wonders how much Wei Ying has kept hidden away, how much grief he has tamped down within himself and hidden under smiles and false cheer, whether his constant chatter is perhaps just a distraction from his pain.

Wei Ying eventually stills, his breathing deepening with only small hitches, and Lan WangJi realizes he’s fallen asleep—whether from the release of emotion, overall exhaustion, or a combination. For a moment, he’s at a loss on what to do, but during what he had dubbed ‘the grand tour,’ Wei Ying had shown him where he worked and slept in the cave.

What surprises Lan WangJi further is the ease he has in lifting him, even able to hook one arm at his knees; he knows he has not gained as much strength as that, leaving only the possibility that Wei Ying has lost weight—and not a little. Looking down at his face, smoothed now in sleep, he realizes just how gaunt Wei Ying looks, how haggard. How truly vulnerable.

Bi sheng zhi ji.

He will never leave Wei Ying again.

#mo dao zu shi #the untamed #untamed fanfiction #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan zhan #lan wangji #wen ning #wen qing #my fanfiction #chen qing ling #cql #mdzs

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the-blue-fairie · 4 years

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An Extremely Personal Look at my Disconnect with Frozen 2

I’m trans and I’ve been closeted for so long that being in the closet has begun to feel like a futile routine, an inescapability born of my own weakness.

That’s... not how a post about a Disney film usually starts, is it?

But, like the title of my post says, this reflection is personal. I’m allowing myself to be vulnerable.

Because of my life experience, I’ve connected deeply with the character of Elsa over the years. I suppose that’s not a surprise. Elsa’s powers can serve as a broad metaphor for aspects of someone’s identity that others can stigmatize - whether that be read as gender, sexuality, anxiety, or depression. Part of the reason Elsa became so incredibly popular in the first film is because her struggle with her powers could reflect so many various people’s struggles with their own identities.

Frozen 2 actually leans into that broad metaphor of Elsa’s powers reflecting personal identity - a part of oneself that is unique but beautiful in its uniqueness. The lyrics of Show Yourself reinforce this, telling Elsa that “you are the one you’ve been waiting for all of your life.” So I should love Frozen 2. I want to love Frozen 2. There are things I absolutely do love about Frozen 2.

But I have a complicated disconnect with the way the film approaches the origin of Elsa’s powers.

The film makes Elsa’s powers a gift from the spirits - and also suggests that they are a gift for Iduna because she saved Agnarr’s life. By introducing the idea that Elsa’s powers originate not because of anything to do with Elsa herself but because of an event that happened before Elsa was even born, the film kind of undermines the metaphor of Elsa’s powers reflecting a key aspect of her identity.

Identity doesn’t work like that. I’m not trans because of other people’s actions. My trans-ness is a part of me. It comes from me. It wasn’t decided that I was trans so that my mother could have a “reward” for her own righteousness. If some divinity did bestow my trans-ness upon me, I would be disturbed to find out if they didn't do it for my sake - if they did it because my mother did something and I was only an aspect of the equation insomuch as I related to her...

To me, that thought isn’t empowering. And it still wouldn’t be empowering even if my mother were as loving as Iduna - because it would tell me that I’m only a vessel...

There’s a difference between saying, “Elsa is a gift because Iduna’s good deed was rewarded with her,” and saying, “Elsa is a gift simply because she is who she is, Elsa is a gift by simply existing.” One is conditional and one is unconditional. One uses Elsa to prop up Iduna’s actions and the other loves Elsa for herself.

(Also, I’d argue that a better gift for Iduna’s goodness would be to let her see her family again. Why cut the Northuldra off from the world when the fault was solely Arendelle’s? I’ve seen some people speculate that Arendelle could have wiped the Northuldra out after Runeard’s death and the mist protects them, but what does that reading make us think of Agnarr if we assume he could be complicit in genocide? Why “protect” the Northuldra in a way that will negatively psychologically impact a generation of them? Why let them suffer? No, that rationale doesn’t make sense to me. The whole mist scenario smacks of the “both-sides-ism” of white writers - but that’s a discussion for another time, a discussion I’m not really qualified to comment on in depth. I need to return to Elsa.)

The interesting thing is, after introducing the concept that the spirits gifted Elsa’s powers to celebrate Iduna’s nobility, the film doesn’t really bring up that angle again. Instead, it tries to frame “we made you a gift for someone else’s sake in a scenario where your individual identity is irrelevant because you did not even yet have a consciousness” and “you are a gift by being you” as being the same thing. But those two things are not the same.

Before F2, Elsa continually frames herself based on what she can do for the sake of others - even at the expense of herself. Clearly, with Frozen 2, the filmmakers wanted to have Elsa come into fuller self-acceptance and love herself for being herself - but that isn’t quite what they wrote. By making Elsa a reward for her mother and defining her powers based only on how Elsa relates to her, the film itself frames Elsa based on what she can be for the sake of others - while disregarding Elsa’s own selfhood and identity. Elsa’s self-identity is so immaterial to the decision to give her powers that it happens before she is even born.

I know the film may not have intended this, but it ends up validating Elsa’s negative thought processes in the act of nominally ‘refuting’ them. All because of those few lines trying to explain why Elsa has powers.

Show Yourself tries to fix this by basically brushing aside the “you were a gift from the spirits for Iduna’s actions” revelation and focusing on Iduna and Elsa’s familial connection and love. This is why Show Yourself is so much more amazing than the earlier revelation and an admittedly breathtaking scene. The focus becomes “you are the one you’ve been waiting for all of your life” - you are a gift to the world simply by being you - and that is so much better than the earlier revelation, but the damage of the earlier revelation has already been done.

Now, the film has two slightly different interpretations of the word “gift” that it tries to use interchangeably - in spite of the fact those two interpretations subtly contradict. The film never comes back to the “gift for Iduna’s good deed” element. It doesn’t establish that what happens in Ahtohallan is an expansion of that or an emendation to that. It doesn’t address the dubious implications of it. It just brushes it aside, never to explore it again.

Indeed, as I’ve said in other posts, if you take out those few lines from earlier, you lose the internal narrative contradiction and the film actually becomes stronger.

So why are they there at all?

I think they’re there because they give a seemingly simple, external explanation for why Elsa has powers. Show Yourself is more focused on what being at peace with yourself means to Elsa emotionally (that’s why it’s better, in my opinion), but the “the spirits gave her powers because of her mother” lines are there because the writers felt they needed to give a direct explanation of Elsa’s magic.

Here’s a hot take, though: Elsa’s powers work better without an explanation. The fact she was just “born with them” in the first film was part of what led to her broad appeal. It allowed countless people to latch onto her because - people who society deems “other?” We’re just people. We’re ordinary. We’re human. We just are. The first film understood this - and for all of Elsa’s magical abilities, she was allowed to just be. And the lack of any lore surrounding Elsa’s powers meant that scores of different people could identify with Elsa. Her powers were vague enough that they could stand in for any unique aspect of an individual’s identity. The point wasn’t where they came from; the point was what they meant.

But after the first film came out, I kept seeing the refrain: “Why do they never explain Elsa’s powers? That’s a plot hole.” it isn’t a plot hole. It isn’t a plot hole any more than not explaining how the Wicked Queen in Snow White got a magic mirror is a plot hole. Something being unexplained isn’t a plot hole. That’s not what “plot hole” means. But I can understand why the writers, after hearing things like that for years, felt like they had to address that explanation.

And in doing so, they tried admirably to connect that plot point to an internal journey for Elsa - and created some absolutely beautiful elements within the film - like Show Yourself. Although, in this post, I’m documenting flaws I see in Frozen 2 and my own disconnect with it, I want to stress that I respect the artists and creatives who brought the film into being and I value their work.

In the process of their efforts, however, they inadvertently opened up internal contradictions within their own narrative; opened up unfortunate implications when it came to their commentary on colonization; and opened up unfortunate implications when it came to their discussions of individuality and identity.

As I have said, there is much I admire about Frozen 2. And I know that my words here come from a very personal place. If Elsa’s arc in Frozen 2 works for you, you’re valid. This isn’t a takedown of Frozen 2. None of my more critical posts about Frozen 2 are. I don’t want to take anything away from you. You’re valid.

It’s just that my perspective is valid too. I know, there are scores of critiques of Frozen 2 and some of them are absolutely terrible or just plain racist, but I hope that as you read this, you’ll understand that my perspective comes from the heart and that I’ve done my best to support it with examples from the text of the film. I hope that you’ll read this. I’m writing it to be heard - because I feel like my perspective gets drowned out a lot, regardless of the posts I make. Flashier positive posts draw one part of the fandom’s attention and flashier and more toxic negative posts draw another part’s attention.

I’m just trying to express my thoughts in a cohesive way, trying to be heard and trying not to feel guilty. (Because I do feel guilty writing posts like these. I get scared that people resent them or that I’m spoiling other people’s fun - even though more toxic people make much more incoherent arguments and they don’t feel guilt, while I try to support all my claims.) I feel like I’m relentlessly apologetic to others, always begging, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, always... feeling guilty for even having a perspective like this. As though I feel there’s something wrong with me for simply having a perspective. As though I’m scared it somehow invalidates all the good things I’ve said about the film elsewhere or will make people hate me.

(Not to connect everything back to my being closeted, but I feel like that entrenches a guilt in me that manifests even as I talk about innocuous things like fandom opinions).

But I just... want to speak. I hope that’s not bad, is it? And I hope this post finds a receptive audience. I know it’s personal. I know it’s heavily informed by my own personal experience and perspective, but I hope it’s nuanced. And I hope people will read it and, even if they approach the film differently than me, understand.

Thank you.

#bigfrozensix #frozen #frozen 2 #elsa

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yoonjinkooked · 3 years

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Kitchen Confidential | Jin | FINAL (TEASER)

TO BE POSTED IN FULL ON 12/26

Pairing: Seokjin / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Enemies to lovers, chef AU

Warnings: explicit sex, cursing, no longer a slow burn ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Word Count: around 10k for the last chapter (subject to change), the teaser itself is 1200 ( pretty short, just to get your gears going <3 )

Read previous parts here: / 1 / 2 / 3 /

On the other side of the door, with a goofy smile on his face and his hands full of paper shopping bags is no one other than Kim Seokjin himself.

“Um… to what do I owe the pleasure?” you ask, once you can finally speak.

“No meds,” you inform him. His solemn expression turns bright so fast, you think you might be experiencing whiplash. What the fuck is going on here?! “What are you making?”

“You’re making beef stew?” you guess, surprised but not disappointed by his choice of dish. He, on the other hand, seems offended.

“What do you take me for?” he asks, very obviously exaggerating his reaction. “I’m a trained chef, Y/N. I’m making beef bourguignon.”

“Perfect!” he beams at you. “Now, where do you keep your chopping boards?”

“Give me my peeler then,” you say, holding the palm of your hand open, waiting.

“Let’s start working, chef.”

#jin smut #bts smut #seokjin smut #jin scenario #seokjin scenario #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #bts au #jin au #jin x reader #jin x you #seokjin x reader #seokjin x y/n #seokjin x you #bts fanfiction #jin writing #seokjin writing #glitterkookiedough #bts fanfic

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exhaustedfander · 4 years

Note

I had an idea for a fic request^^ What about Roman and Logan, both being frustrated and sad over all after the whole wedding debacle and venting to each other to then decide they just leave the others to themselves and go hide in the Imagination(maybe in a castel they make). The others then have to try to get them back and shenenigans ensue^^ (If that's too long that's okay and I don't care if you make it shippy or keep it platonic) Anyway, I love your writing and please have a great day❤️

Hey, so this request is probably my favorite that I’ve ever received and I was having a lot of fun writing it but, big shock, this is gonna need to be split off into at least a couple parts. I want to get it right, and I feel breaking it up will allow me to do so. Logince was one of my first major ships in the Sanders Sides fandom, so it’s a lot of fun to return to it (even though it’s well known I’m a major intrulogical stan). I’d love to hear what you think of this first part, and thanks for the awesome Request, Mim!

A03 link

Word Count: 2,320

Hideaway: Chapter One

Roman paces the floor of his room, hands threaded in his frazzled hair. It doesn’t make any sense! Thomas had taken Jan-Deceit’s side, disregarding any of his hesitations. He didn’t think he was the bad guy anymore. And Roman… for so long, he was sure that he was Thomas’s hero. But now? What can he believe anymore?

Roman stiffens when he hears a knock on his door, the pit in his stomach expanding when he realizes tears have begun to slip down his cheeks.

“I’m – uh, I’m busy!” Roman says, cursing the way his voice cracks. If their wise, whoever’s on the other side of the door will leave well enough alone. But then, a voice pipes up.

“Roman… may I come in?” Logan.

Right now, Roman would be prepared to send anyone else away without much of a second thought. But Logan isn’t anyone else, and there’s a raw, strangely quiet quality to his voice that can’t help but make Roman’s heart pang.

“I – maybe it would be best, if you came back later,” Roman says, furiously wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Please,” Logan says, so gentle it’s nearly a whisper, “Please let me in.” Roman couldn’t place it a moment ago, but now he’s identified the strangeness in Logan’s: it’s fear. And while Roman’s body is wracked with shivers, and the tears are slipping down his cheeks despite his will to just stop being so fucking sensitive, he opens the door.

“Listen, Logan now’s not really…” Roman trails off, seeing the broken look in Logan’s eyes. “Oh,” he says because it’s the only word that comes to mind, despite all the other things he wants to express. He steps aside, allowing Logan to walk into the room and shut the door behind him.

“You’re crying,” Logan notes, and there’s a fearful tremor in his voice.

Roman’s gaze flickers to the wall, his hand once again whipping at his eyes, wishing he could stop, praying he’ll be able to turn everything off, for just a moment, and breathe. Such desires are nothing but a fairytale, though, and they have been since the wedding and the horrible conversation that followed.

“No, really?” Roman asks, sarcasm thick and bitter.

He doesn’t want to act this way; he wants to comfort Logan through whatever it is he’s clearly dealing with. He wants to put on a brave face, the way Patton used to do (But that isn’t healthy. Does it matter?) He wants to prove to Thomas that he’s made the wrong decision, that Deceit isn’t to be trusted and that Roman can still be his hero. That he still deservestheir love.

But all he can manage is resentment.

“I’m sorry,” Roman mumbles, his eyes still cast away from Logan’s prying gaze, “I – I don’t. I’m not trying to be… What was it that you needed?” Roman doesn’t mean to trail off and lose all semblance of what he was trying to say (not that he’s sure what that exactly was), but it happens nonetheless, and it seems he’s made a friend in deflection and distraction.

“I came to speak with you,” Logan says, his voice searching, begging to be let in, but Roman won’t let him, not like this, “After everything that’s happened… the wedding, and… and Janus.” Logan seems to struggle slightly through the name, but the Virgil-Esque growl that Roman delivers in response is telling of his feelings on the matter.

“Deceit mascaraed as you!” Roman shouts, his hands held in the air, “Again! And Thomas sided with him! For the love of Disney; Patton sided with him! Patton thinks, he thinks…”

Roman can’t even bear to face what it is that Patton thinks. That Deceit is worthy of a second chance? That he deserves a seat at the table? It was too upsetting to think about, not without getting worked up to a point of no return. And Roman is already dangerously close to that.

“He did,” Logan agrees, distaste palpable, “He assumed my identity, once again, and… you all were none the wiser.” The words hang heavy in the air, tension electrified and unsteady.

“Well, he’s – he’s a master manipulator! Cut us a little slack here, Teach! We didn’t – if we’d known, we would’ve done something! I would’ve done something, I-I swear. I just…” Roman collapses onto his ornate bed, his head in his hands. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to protect you, o-or Patton, or even Thomas from him. I tried, but… I wasn’t strong enough.” Roman sniffles, fresh tears clouding his vision. “Maybe you should leave.”

“Roman,” Logan says hesitantly, his voice so much gentler than usual. Roman shivers as he feels a dip in the mattress and a hand settle onto the small of his back, the action stiff but still expressing the intent of comfort. “It isn’t your job to ‘protect’ us from Janus, or anyone else, for that matter. I came here because… I was concerned, after what transpired. I was informed that you sunk out after a rather terse point in the conversation, and I thought it best to check-in.”

“I’m fine,” Roman says, despite the fact that his hands are still covering his face and he’s begun to tremble under Logan’s touch, “It’s just… a lot to process. But I’m alright. You don’t – you don’t need to be here.”

“Falsehood,” Logan says, and Roman can’t bear to hear him say that, “Roman… I know you wanted that callback a tremendous amount.” “Y-you don’t –.”

“I do,” Logan says sadly, “I’m not trying to make things more difficult for you, please, understand that is by no means my intention. But you’re going through a lot, emotionally. Feelings are by no means my area of expertise but…” Logan trails off, nearly losing his nerve before he pushes forward, rubbing slow circles into Roman’s back, “… I’m here. I’m here to talk about whatever it is you need to talk about, or to –.”

Logan gasps as Roman turns around and pitches himself forward, pushing them both down into the mattress as he winds his arms around the logical side, his face buried in Logan’s shoulder. Logan struggles for a moment, with Roman lying on top of him and soaking his polo with tears, but quickly he readjusts and resumes rubbing circles into the princely side’s back.

He doesn’t quite know what he’s doing. Emotions are a tricky thing, especially the intense, soberingly sad ones, but Logan is fairly sure he’s behaving as he should. He’s whispering words of comfort and reassurance (words he can’t be sure are true or not), and holding him close, and allowing Roman to ‘cry it out.’ He’s heard emotional release is very important, and by the looks of things, Roman’s been in dire need of it for some time.

He tries not to think about the fact that Janus yanked him from the discussion by his crook, or that his low-downs had been ignored, or that a great deal of his advice has been pushed to the wayside for some time now, or –

“Logan?” Roman sniffles, interrupting Logan’s frantic thoughts and oh, he must’ve stopped rubbing Roman’s back, his hand having gone uncomfortably still.

“My apologies,” Logan mutters, “I suppose I was, uh, figuratively lost in thought for a moment there.”

“What is it?” Roman asks, pushing himself into a seated position. There are still tear-tracks on his face, and his skin is rather flushed, but suddenly, all of his attention has been directed to Logan. And Logan doesn’t know if he likes it.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re upset,” Roman says, “What’s the matter?”

“We’re focusing on you right now,” Logan urges, “We’re talking about how you’re feeling at the moment, Roman.”

“Well, I want to know how you’re feeling.”

Roman fails to mention the fact that he’s mind-numbingly embarrassed for having sobbed into Logan’s shirt for so long and breaking down to a point where it feels as though the same fate is imminent to repeat. He’s failed so severely, made so many wrong choices. It feels like everyone’s flipped the script on him. At the trial, Roman was chastised for so much as considering Deceit’s point of view, but now? Now it seems he’s the villain for not seeing eye to eye with the snake. He’s always tried to do everything he can, to live up to the expectations he’s woven for himself, and what he believes the others assume he’s capable of… but he’s failed. How is it that the hero can take such a fall from grace? Was he ever a hero at all?

“Roman…”

“Please, Logan,” Roman says, just edging on begging, “Indulge me. What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

Logan gives Roman a quizzical look, studying him for cracks in his slipping composure, before letting out a sigh.

“Believe it or not,” Logan begins, crossing his arms over his chest, “The decision to go to the wedding, and the events that have followed have been… less than ideal for me.” Roman tilts his head.

“But I thought you were impartial to either decision? At the trial –.”

“The callback was a rare opportunity,” Logan says simply, hoping, foolishly, that Roman won’t prod any further, “One that is unlikely to reappear. In terms of Thomas’s career…” Logan trails off, seeing the look of hurt flash in Roman’s eyes.

“Don’t remind me.”

“Additionally,” Logan says, fiddling with his tie, “I’ve found that lately, my advice has been… discarded, to some extent. It’s been made explicitly clear that my company is not always desired, and it seems, I’m having a little trouble accepting that.” Logan stiffens when he catches sight of the look in Roman’s eyes and, oh dear, it appears Roman’s portraying a great deal of emotions that Logan has no idea how to deal with.

“Logan…”

“I’m not trying to upset you,” Logan says, “I’m merely explaining what you asked of me.”

“We want you around,” Roman says, his hand reaching out to touch Logan’s, “I want you around. I know we have our disagreements – quite a bit of disagreement, really. But I want you, Logan and, for the record… I’m sorry.” A shiver runs down his back as Roman laces their fingers together, the touch overwhelmingly tender.

“What are you apologizing for?”

“For making you feel unwanted,” Roman says, “I’ve gotten so lost in what I want for Thomas, and what Patton says is morally right. And now – well, now everything’s so much. But I am sorry.” Logan wasn’t expecting an apology, or the warm sensation of Roman’s hand in his, buy both things provoke feelings in him that he cannot comprehend.

“I’m sure the others will be wondering where we are soon,” Logan notes, pulling his hand away. Roman frowns. But then, his expression changes and Logan doesn’t quite trust that look in his eyes.

“What if… what if we went somewhere for a while?”

“What’re you talking about?”

“You and me,” Roman says, standing up, his face lighting up with a look of hope Logan can’t account for, “What if we went away? Took a break from all chaos and expectations,” the last word comes out just a whisper, sorrow tinting it.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Logan says, still trying to make sense of Roman’s sudden energetic outburst, “Where would we go? Where could we go? Furthermore, how could we go? I don’t think I need to be the one to remind you that we have a job to do, Roman. We cannot leave our posts, regardless of personal issues.”

“The Imagination,” Roman says, as if the explanation clears much up for the logical side, “I have somewhere we can go. Just for a little bit! We wouldn’t be gone for more than a day if that! Just a little time to take the edge off, to breathe. Aren’t you tired, Logan? Aren’t you exhausted?”

“I –,” Logan pauses, shuddering under the intensity of Roman’s gaze, “I’m not sure about this.”

“Oh, come on, nerd,” Roman says, grabbing hold of Logan’s arm and pulling him to his feet, “Come with me. I promise, whatever you want to talk about, I’ll listen. You can catalog the flora and fauna of The Imagination! Oh, I’ll show you everything. You’re going to love it! Please, come with me. Take a break. I don’t want to be alone.”

Roman doesn’t bring himself to say, “can’t be alone,” but Logan picks it up regardless. Roman is at the end of his tether in so many ways; it would be wrong to leave him on his own now. Dangerous, even. And despite the building hesitations, the idea of some time for themselves, if only for a little while, is more appealing than it ought to be.

“Just for a little while?” Logan asks carefully. Roman nods up and down quickly.

“I promise! A-are you coming?” The desperation that takes hold of Roman’s voice is devastating. Logan doesn’t know how he could tell him no, at least not now. Logan nods.

“I am. I’ll come.” Logan stiffens as Roman throws his arms around him, once again pulling him into a suffocating tight embrace, though Logan isn’t sure he’s entirely opposed to such a thing.

“Then let’s not waste any more time,” Roma says, taking Logan’s hand, “Let’s go.”

A more rational, composed part of Logan is screaming at him that this is a terrible idea that can only end poorly. Roman’s in an incredibly fraught mental state (Logan’s not sure if he’s much better) and leaving the problem isn’t going to magically fix it. Logan should have better sense than to agree to something like this but… he doesn’t. Not when he’s been so tired for so long, not when Roman’s offering him salvation, not when all he wants is a little peace.

And so, Logan allows Roman to lead him through a door and into The Imagination, foolish curiosity outweighing reason.

=+=

Taglist:

@nadiestar

@unoriginalgayboyalex

@maryann-draws

@bella-in-a-bag

@igonnatalknothing

@elizabutgayer

Let me know if you wanna be added to my taglist!

#logince #romantic logince #request #sanders sides #sanders sides request #Roman Sanders #Logan Sanders #Roman angst #Roman angst time baby!#Sorry Roman #Also Logan angst oh boy #because hurting them pleases me #hurt/comfort #fluff/angst #because I will write angst so long as there's a chance of a happy ending #exhaustedfander writes #exhaustedfander

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queen-of-the-avengers · 4 years

Text

Better Late Than Never

Characters: Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: angst, fluff at the end, reunion

Request by anon: Hi there!! Just curious, would you ever make a one shot to the avengers reunion for your story pick a side?

Summary: After years apart from your dad, you come face to face with him. Will he hate you for leaving? Will he resent you even more? Or will he accept you back into his life?

sam’s wings for @star-spangled-bingo

tears of joy for @foundfamilybingo

Part One

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! This is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.

You’re good at your job, but you’re not that good. You take after your father--working on things building big projects, and always innovating new ideas. You’re not as good as he is, but you try to do your best. Sam managed to break his wings, so you tried fixing it on your own. He gave you enough time to come up with a plan and execute it, but as soon as that time was up, he needed to move on to someone slightly better than you.

After all, you have the Captain America serum in your body, so you’re more useful out in the field than behind a welding mask. Sam needed an expert to fix his wings, and you were slightly offended that it wasn’t going to be you. All he said is that he found someone to do the job, but he never said who. Even Steve, Wanda, and Natasha were very quiet about it, but you kind of brushed it off.

“Give me another chance, okay? I think I can fix it,” you beg Sam as you follow him around the Quinjet.

“Major, you’ve done enough,” he laughs.

“My name is Y/N,” you pout.

“You’re just below Cap. You’re Major.”

“Fine, but you need to give me another chance. I have a better understanding of it now!”

“No.”

You don’t take no for an answer and head over to his wings that are on the table in the middle of the jet. You whip off the blanket that is covering them only to have him drag it back on.

“Sam!”

“I said no. I found a guy.”

“Steve!”

“Y/N, I love you, but you’re a crappy welder and an even more crappy engineer.”

“Language,” you gasp teasingly, and he rolls his eyes slightly.

“We’re approaching our destination,” Natasha calls from the driver’s seat.

“Where are we going?” you ask and bounce to the window.

“Y/N, wait--”

Steve’s warning is cut off when you reach the window. The clouds clear to reveal the new Avengers facility that your dad had built in upstate New York. Your blood runs cold and you freeze in your spot at the thought of running into him. It’s been three years since you two last saw each other--after he made no moe to contact you. The last thing you heard from him was him accusing you of picking Steve’s side because you were “fucking” him.

He’s never made any effort to call you after you left with Steve.

“Y/N, we were going to tell you, but he’s the only one who can fix this,” Steve whispers.

You hear him, but your brain doesn’t register the words that are coming out of his mouth. All you can think about was the fight that happened at the airport in Germany. When you got in line with Steve and his team, your dad gave you the coldest look you’ve ever seen. He was so angry at you for not picking his side that he didn’t care why you did it or what you believed in. All he saw was betrayal, and all you saw was hatred and disappointment.

When the fight started, he tried his best not to fight you because even though he was mad, he didn’t know if he could hurt you. Then, the unthinkable happened. Steve and Bucky were racing to the jet to get to the place where the other winter soldiers were when you stood between them and your dad. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he couldn’t let them get away.

He ended up hurting you in more ways than just physical. Physically, you only had a bruised stomach and some cuts on your face. However, emotionally, there was a gaping hole left in your chest. Your dad saw the damage he did to you and he just left without another word or a glance in your direction. He just took off, and that was the last time you ever saw him.

The months rolled by, and you thought he was going to call you, but he never did. Those months turned to years, and you lost all hope of seeing your dad. It crossed your mind that you should be the one to go after him, but he hurt you a lot more than you hurt him. You couldn’t put yourself through that embarrassment and torture of seeing how you made him disappointed by coming back.

So, you never did.

Fighting with Steve made you happy--at least, that’s what you tell yourself. In reality, it provided you with a distraction long enough to keep thoughts of your dad out of your mind. Then, when the distraction subsided, Steve had already found another case to be on. It’s been a few years, and you’ve been everything related to misery. You miss him so much, but he clearly doesn’t miss you. So, seeing his new Avengers facility brought all those unwanted feelings back to the surface--the ones you tried so hard burying.

“You know, you could have told me,” you sigh and look away from the window.

“I didn’t know how.”

Steve thought about calling Tony plenty of times just to kick his ass into being with you, but he always thought twice about it. You were at a point in your life where you were almost at the peak of getting over it, so he couldn’t possibly let you bring all those feelings back into the light. You were just so sad and you cried almost every night for a long time because all you needed was your dad. He couldn’t give you the comfort you needed, and because there was a small possibility that Tony would reject you once again, he just couldn’t make that call. It breaks his heart to see you so sad.

When Sam’s wings broke, and no one in his group could fix them, he knew that it was time to go see Tony once again. There was no way you would be staying on your own, and he couldn’t think of a good enough reason to keep you away, so you joined them without a hint of where you were going. Ever since the big fight happened, they’ve all been looking at you like you’re going to explode at any given moment. They’ve been hovering to catch you despite you telling them that you’re okay.

But you’re not okay.

How can you just worry everyone like that when there is no fixing it? There is nothing they can do, so why bother them with it in the first place? Everything you’ve ever mashed down inside you started to inflate the minute the Quinjet landed. As soon as the doors opened, you became frozen where you stood. Natasha and Sam left the bird first with his wings in hand, leaving you, Steve, and Wanda left inside.

“I can take away your fear if you want me to,” Wanda whispers.

“No, it’s okay,” you whisper back. “Go on, I’ll be there in a minute.”

All you see is pity on her face, but she leaves your side nonetheless.

“Are you sure you can do this? You don’t have to go in there,” Steve supports.

“I do. He left, not me. I shouldn’t be scared to walk in there, he should be scared that I’m here. Does he know I’m coming?”

“No, I didn’t tell him. I was afraid he would say no to fixing Sam’s wings. Listen, he sounded pretty miserable on the phone. I think he’ll be happy to see you.”

“He was so mad at me,” you remember your last conversation that actually mattered, “like he couldn’t fathom the thought that I would pick your side over his. I just did what I thought was right—I still think that. He always taught me to stand up for what I believe in, and I did just that. I’m just scared he’ll hate me all over again. I don’t think I’ll survive that again.”

“Then stay in here. We’ll be in and out. I promise.”

“I’m sorry,” you sigh sadly.

You look down at the ground just as two tears left your eyes. Steve looks at you, and he just cups your chin with two fingers and lifts your head so you’re staring at him. He wipes the tears away with his thumbs as gently as he can.

“Don’t be. You’re not ready. That’s okay. I have to go inside now, but I promise we will be back before you know it.”

He leans down and kisses you tenderly, keeping it short. The feel of his lips on yours help keep you grounded, and you hold onto that comfort even when he pulls away from you. You keep your eyes closed for a few more minutes as if it would shield you from the fear. If you can’t see your dad’s place, then you’re not really there. However, just as soon as you open them, you miss the comfort from Steve immediately.

Why should you be the one who fears this place? It should be your dad that fears you coming here. He was the one who broke things off with you, so why do you feel like it’s your fault? You’re his daughter, and he is supposed to treat you as such. You’re not one of his friends that pissed him off--he doesn’t get to cut you out of his life like you mean nothing. You’re his fucking daughter; he is supposed to love you no matter what. It’s what a parent does for their children. Yeah, they are supposed to make you mad and get on your nerves, but you don’t get to cut them out of your life like that.

Why should you just stand here while everyone else gets to be inside? Maybe seeing your dad’s new place is giving you the courage you never had. It’s giving you a sense of what’s right and wrong in this situation. Fuck this, you’re not going to wait out here like some scared little girl afraid she is going to get grounded by her dad. You’re an adult, so he can’t punish you anymore--not like this.

You leave the Quinjet and head inside the place, impressed how it turned out. Your dad is an arrogant ass sometimes, but he sure doesn’t know how to build a beautiful building. Jarvis is no longer with your dad, so he had a new system put in place: Friday. The only thing different about her is that she has an Irish accent while Jarvis had a British one. Since your face is known on every server that your dad has, Friday doesn’t announce your presence. Jarvis did that with strangers, and you think that it’s the same thing with Friday.

This place is huge on the inside as much as it is on the outside, but you don’t have any trouble going where you need to go. The main room is close to the entrance of the place, so just as soon as you enter, you hear everyone’s voice come from the room. Despite being angry and pissed at your dad for treating you this way, there is something inside of you--no matter how small--that tells you he is going to hate you when he sees you.

You freeze right before you can turn the corner. The doors are open, so you can hear everything clearly, but you’re completely out of sight. Will he stare at you with disgust and disappointment? Will he yell? Throw you out? Tell you that he never wants to see you again?

“Thanks for doing this, Tony,” Steve says as Sam hands over his wings to the billionaire.

“First time you called in, what, years, and this is what you asked me?” Tony says and glances at Steve.

He noticed immediately that you weren't in the room.

“Is it safe to come home yet?”

“No.”

“Then, yes, it’s what I asked you to do.”

“Where is she?” your dad asks as he inspects the wings.

“Do you care?”

“Do I care? Of course I fucking care, Rogers. How can you ask that?” your dad hisses.

“You haven’t called in, what, years?” Steve throws that comment back in your dad’s face.

“Is she at least here?”

“I’m not going to answer that. What needs to be done is fixing these wings so we can be on our way.”

Tony looks at everyone’s faces and knows immediately what they are saying. You are here, probably on the Quinjet that just flew in, and there is a reason why you’re not coming in. He really fucked up big time. All Tony has ever done for the past few years is regret yelling at you in the first place. All he wants now is his daughter, and you can’t even come inside.

“I’m right here,” you say and reveal yourself.

Hearing your dad ask those questions pushed the doubt to the back of your mind and brought back the courage. Every single person turned to look at you, but you’re only looking at your dad. He seems frozen where he stands, unable to do anything but just look at you. You’re really here no thanks to him. He grips Sam’s wings tightly in his hands, wincing when one of the parts dig into his palm. Feeling that pain brings him back to reality.

He sets the wings on the table right in front of him before marching over to you. You honestly think he is going to yell at you or do something mean, but instead, he just brings you into a tight hug. Your arms immediately wrap around his neck, and you find yourself sinking into his body.

“I missed you so fucing much,” your dad says emotionally.

“I’m so sorry,” you cry into his neck.

He pulls away and makes sure you’re staring into his eyes when he speaks.

“No, you don’t get to be sorry. I’m the one who should be sorry. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have yelled at you or made you feel like what you did was wrong. I’m the one who fucked up. You’re my daughter, and I shouldn’t have ever let you go.”

He brings you back into a hug, and you squeeze him tightly to remind yourself that this is really happening. You look at Steve from over your dad’s shoulder, and he smiles proudly because this is the moment he has been waiting for. This is the moment that should have happened years ago. Well, better late than never is what everyone always says.

You and your dad have grown separately, but it’s time you grow together. You’ve lost precious years without him, and you’re not going to waste another over something stupid like last time.

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