#excuse any bad translations I do not know anything about French

[heyiwrotesomethings]

salut j'espère que vous allez bien j'adore vos histoires de lecteur shinobu x et je voulais vous demander si vous pouviez faire une histoire de lecteur shinobu x fem où kanae n'est pas mort et shinobu a son vrai caractère et que pendant l'histoire, shinobu et le lecteur sa rivale pour voir qui est le meilleur tueur de démons ou juste le meilleur dans l'ensemble, qu'ils se taquinent constamment mais que shinobu a toujours une longueur d'avance sur le lecteur et que d'une manière ou d'une autre ils finissent en couple à la fin (merci donc beaucoup si vous acceptez ma demande et sachez que vous êtes mon écrivain shinobu préféré <3)

You’re My (Sparring) Partner

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader

A/N: I don’t know any French so I hope Google Translate didn’t let us down too bad. Quick plot introduction: Kanae lived, Shinobu’s her good ol’ grouchy self, and she and reader are always competing to see who is better. Some bumps in the path before they finally end up together because Shinobu is stubborn. Thank you for the request. Espérons que vous apprécierez! Word Count: 4,340

“I killed two demons last night.” (Y/n) shared with a bit of pride over breakfast that morning, subtlety looking over the rim of her cup at Shinobu as she drank, before putting the cup back down with a quiet click. “I made very clean cuts too, that’s what you said, right? Kanae-sama?”

A quiet laugh left Kanae’s lips before she nodded, “Yes, you certainly are improving. I’m very proud.”

Shinobu rolled her eyes, her teeth lightly grinding together before she added, “Well my record in one night is four. Two isn’t that impressive.”

“Oh yeah, well—“

“Shinobu, (Y/n), please no bickering at the table. It’s a little early to be playing this game, don’t you think?” Kanae sighed.

“It’s not a game, Neesan.” Shinobu refuted, matching (Y/n)’s glare.

This rivalry had been going on for years. Ever since Shinobu finally accepted that she wasn’t fit for Flower Breathing and decided to cultivate her own breathing style and (Y/n) had wormed her way in to train under Kanae as a Tsuguko, the spot that should have been Shinobu’s by all accounts. It had left the girl bitter and looking for just about any excuse to show (Y/n) how much better she was than her. Even now as a Hashira herself, she still hadn’t been able to quite let go of that initial disappointment and start a new chapter.

Of course, (Y/n) didn’t take Shinobu’s challenges sitting down. She had earned her spot within the Butterfly Estate, but the only one who remained unconvinced was the one person she wanted to impress almost more than the Flower Hashira herself.

Ever since (Y/n) had met Shinobu, she hadn’t thought of her as anything short of brilliant. She took every curve ball life had thrown her way and found a way to hit a home run every time. Not able to decapitate demons, she made a special poison that could kill them anyway. Not suited for the more mainstream breathing techniques, she created her own. Not to mention her speed and mastery over Total Concentration Breathing Constant was nothing to sneeze at either.

To be acknowledged and accepted by Shinobu was all she really wanted and she was willing to do anything to prove her worth. She would compete with Shinobu until she earned her respect.

“Yes, it’s a very serious matter, Master.” (Y/n) agreed, smirking at Shinobu’s scowl.

“Well then take it outside. You are making poor Kanao nervous and I’m sure the other girls don’t appreciate the hostility brewing between you two either.” Kanae said, motioning to the group of girls around the table who did indeed just wanted to eat their breakfast in peace.

“Fine.” Shinobu’s hands slapped against the table as she got up. “I could go for a spar, how about you? Or are you still too sleepy from being up past your bedtime?”

“I recall you waiting up to greet me last night. So I’m sure we have the same advantage.”

“As if I was waiting for you. I had questions for my sister about our medicinal ingredient supply shipments.”

They bickered and taunted each other, even nudging and shoving each other as they made their way out the door. Kanae gave another tired sigh.

“Why can’t those two just get along?”

***

Shinobu flung a wooden sword at (Y/n) who was luckily paying enough attention to catch it before it smacked her in the face and quick enough to immediately retaliate.

“Readysetgo!” Thwack!

It was a dirty tactic to begin a spar without allowing enough time to at least get in a proper starting stance, but Shinobu had anticipated the swipe and blocked it easily.

“Can’t even catch me off guard properly.” Shinobu taunted.

“Who said I trying to?” (Y/n) asked with faux innocence, blocking Shinobu’s counter strike, “I gave you fair warning. Did you feel like I was trying to catch you off guard? In that case, maybe I did catch you a bit off guard after all. My apologies.”

Shinobu sneered, then jumped back. With the weight behind Shinobu’s block gone, (Y/n) was suddenly pushing back against nothing but air. She stumbled forward as Shinobu advanced, turning sharply behind her, wooden sword already swinging towards its intended target.

(Y/n) had been burned by that little maneuver once before and she wasn’t going to give Shinobu the satisfaction of a second. She continued to fall forward, kicking her legs up into the air when her hands came in contact with the ground. She could feel the displacement of air roll over her back, Shinobu had followed through with her strike and missed!

With all the force (Y/n) could muster, she torpedoed on her palms, attempting to catch Shinobu’s face with her foot, but Shinobu quickly cocked her head to the side and dropped her sword to the ground so she could brace her hands at (Y/n)’s ankle and knee. With a smirk, she twisted (Y/n)’s leg, and kicked out (Y/n)’s arms from under her, forcing her to the ground completely.

Before (Y/n) could attempt to scramble to her feet, Shinobu planted her foot firmly to the center of her back.

“That was an entertaining little display.” Shinobu cooed. “Where did you pick that up from? Weird boar boy?”

“Just get off of me already.” (Y/n) groused, she attempted to hit Shinobu’s ankle, but was not quite flexible enough to do more than brush against the offending foot.

“I didn’t hear you say you concede.” Shinobu knelt down, one knee in the dirt by (Y/n)’s side, foot still on the disgruntled Tsuguko’s back. She cupped a hand around her ear and got in real close, “Say it nice and loud so I can hear you, okay?”

So humiliating! (Y/n) stormed through the mansion after her devastating defeat to lick her wounds in peace. Shinobu always seemed to be one step ahead of her! Of course she was a Hashira, more skilled and practiced than (Y/n) was, but as a Tsuguko to the Flower Hashira, she should be able to last more than five minutes with Shinobu in a spar!

“Hey, everything okay in there?” Kanae had knocked on the door, “I see Shinobu is gloating again.”

(Y/n) opened the door to let Kanae in. Then she flooped back down on her bed and sighed.

“Master, please don’t take this the wrong way, but can’t you train me any harder? Or at least teach me all of your sister’s weaknesses?”

Kanae giggled, taking a seat on the edge of (Y/n)’s bed, “I don’t think that would be very fair. She would be angry with me for weeks, maybe longer. She can sure hold a grudge. As for training, I can only teach you so much… especially now that I have these Mount Natagumo spider slayers that are in need of a rigorous medication program in order to return to normal. I just don’t have the time to train you any more strenuously than I already do.”

“Oh…” though (Y/n) was already laying flat against the bed, she somehow seemed to sink further with her mounting disappointment.

“But there is something we could possibly do while Shinobu and I work on healing the spider slayers.”

(Y/n) perked up a bit, “What?”

“Mitsuri, the new Love Hashira. We got to become aquatinted at the last meeting. She’s a very sweet girl. It would probably do you both some good to train together. It would give Mitsuri a jumpstart on teaching experience and you would get tutelage from another Hashira. Seems like a win-win, doesn’t it?”

“Can you really set that up, Kanae-sama?” (Y/n) was sitting up now, much more excited.

“I don’t see why not. I’ll write her a letter an ask her if she’s busy. She can stay with us for a couple of days and over see your training until the spider slayers are more obviously on the mend.”

“Thank you, Kanae-sama!”

Things might just start looking up! She’d show Shinobu just how strong she could become!

***

Mitsuri was very sweet, almost too sweet. If (Y/n) wasn’t such a well-disciplined Tsuguko, they wouldn’t have gotten anything done. But for as green of a Hashira as Mitsuri was, she was incredibly strong! Maybe even more so than Kanae. Her actual teaching could use work, but (Y/n) felt like she was learning a lot and it was only the first day of three that Mitsuri would be available. She was going to really give Shinobu a run for her money the next time they decided to cross swords. Speaking of,

“Kanroji-san, what are you doing here?” Shinobu had happened by an open door and heard (Y/n) laughing, looking up from the stack of patient files she had in her arms, she had not expected to find her sparring with Mitsuri of all people.

“Oh, hi Shinobu!” Mitsuri loosened her hold on (Y/n) to wave at Shinobu, “Kanae asked me to help pick up on (Y/n)’s training while you guys are working hard with all of your new patients. I’d say things are going pretty well so far!”

“Surprise attack!” (Y/n) tried to pull Mitsuri to the ground. Mitsuri bent forward a little bit, but mostly stood her ground.

“Hey!” Mitsuri giggled, quickly switching the hold to put (Y/n) on the ropes instead, tickling (Y/n)’s sides to make her laugh and beg for mercy.

Shinobu wasn’t sure what it was, but she was not a fan of this new development. (Y/n) never laughed with her like that when they sparred… and why would she! Shinobu didn’t give a damn beyond adding another win to the score board. But they did look like they were having fun… getting along so quickly after only just meeting too… ARGH!

“Try not to go too hard on (Y/n), Kanroji-san. She’s fragile.”

(Y/n) gave Shinobu an annoyed look, “I am not. Kanroji-san can be as rough with me as she needs to be if I’m ever going to be a Hashira one day too.”

“That’ll be the day, won’t it?” Shinobu grumbled.

“I’m sure you’ll make a great Hashira one day (Y/n)! It would be so nice to get to see you more often.” Mitsuri beamed.

“That would be great!”

“That would be great.” Shinobu mocked under her breath as she walked away, the sound of the other girls laughter grating against her ears.

When she re-entered the infirmary and slammed the papers down on the table, Kanae looked up and observed her sister.

“What has you all broody?”

“I’m not broody.”

“If you say so…”

Kanae refocused her attention to the wiggly spider slayer in her arms. It was hard getting them to swallow their medication without giving them her full attention.

“Why didn’t you ask me to help (Y/n) with her training?” Shinobu suddenly spoke up after a few minutes.

“Hm? I figured you would rather do literally anything else. Besides, you’re helping me take care of all these new patients… Did you want to help (Y/n)?”

“No.” Shinobu answered hurriedly. “I just don’t think she and Mitsuri are taking the training seriously is all.”

Kanae looked at Shinobu from the corner of her eye and took note of her disgruntled expression. Such a cute, pouty frown. Kanae moved in to the next patient, a smile growing across her face as a sense of clarity came over her. She wondered just how long her stubborn little sister could hold out before her jealousy overtakes her pride.

Apparently the very same day.

“Kanroji-san, her stance is all wrong, see?” Shinobu had butted in between the two of them after Kanae had sent her off to eat lunch, but of course she could not simply walk past Mitsuri and (Y/n) when she had noticed (Y/n) stance was so blatantly off-balance.

“Oh! I guess you’re right Shinobu.” Mitsuri agreed.

“Stand with your feet further apart.” Shinobu mumbled, kicking (Y/n)’s foot further out, then twisting (Y/n)’s waist and adjusting the way she held her arms up and her grip around the practice sword.

Honestly, (Y/n)‘s stance was perfectly acceptable without Shinobu’s knit picking, but Shinobu had to find some excuse to put space between (Y/n) and Mitsuri. Why that was? She didn’t dwell on an answer.

“There, you feel that pull?” Shinobu asked and (Y/n) blinked back to life, having had gone somewhere else as Shinobu had gently pushed her body into place.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I feel it.”

“Good.”

Shinobu looked for every opportunity she could to step in. Only stopping when Kanae came looking for her and scolded her for letting Aoi’s lunch for her grow cold. She did end up eating with (Y/n) and Mitsuri though, which was good because… well, just because!

She squeezed between them at the table, getting gradually more annoyed as they talked over her head. She did manage to find one way to get (Y/n) to remember she was sitting right beside her.

“You have rice on your face.”

She reached out to brush her thumb over (Y/n)’s chin, coming away with a couple grains of rice.

(Y/n) blinked and subconsciously lifted her hand to her chin where her skin still tingled from Shinobu’s brief touch, “Oh… thanks.”

“You two are so cute!” Mitsuri sighed dreamily, “How long have you guys been together?”

Both (Y/n) and Shinobu’s heads snapped towards Mitsuri.

“We are not together!” They shouted in unison, startling Mitsuri.

“Ehh, really? I could have sworn… Just they way you two acted around each other today, I thought you might be a couple. I’m sorry if I made it awkward.”

“I’d rather cut off my own hands.” Shinobu scoffed, then she was startled by a heavy thump beside her as (Y/n)’s fists hit the table.

“Do you really have to go that far?” (Y/n) hissed, shooting up to her feet, “I’m so sorry the idea of being with me sounds so awful to you that you’d rather mutilate yourself. If you really hate me that much, then why don’t you leave me the fuck alone!”

“Well, you don’t exactly make it easy, do you?” Shinobu snapped back before she could think better of it, as was the risk being as hotheaded as she tended to be. She regretted it very soon after.

“All I ever wanted was for you to acknowledge me, to praise me just once instead of shooting me down. I thought competing with you was the only way to make you see me, but it only seemed to make things worse between us.”

She quickly rubbed beneath her eyes to catch any stupid tears that slipped over her resolve.

“Well, I know now that it will never happen so I’ll stay out of your way as long as you stay out of mine. And that means quit budging in on my training with Mitsuri!”

(Y/n) took Mitsuri by the arm and Mitsuri gave Shinobu an apologetic look, taking the rest of her plate with her as (Y/n) dragged her off.

“That probably couldn’t have gone worse if you tried.”

Shinobu snapped her attention to the other set of doors that lead outside. They slid open to reveal Kanae, who simply waltzed in as if she hadn’t been eavesdropping pretty much the whole time.

“What does it matter?” Shinobu spoke sharply, “I’ll finally have some peace around here.”

“You could have had a perfectly peaceful three days while Mitsuri was keeping her busy, but you couldn’t even last one without her.”

“Oh great, you thought we liked each other too, didn’t you?”

“If you would stop getting in your own way for a minute, you’d know it’s true. You two have always been trying to prove yourself to each other in some way, just not always the best way. Like it or not, you are each other’s drive to do better.”

Shinobu opened her mouth to argue, but Kanae have gave her a warning look before continuing on,

“I hope you two will realize your being silly and work this out before too long. If anyone here really needs peace from your overstayed rivalry, it’s me,” she teasingly ruffled Shinobu’s hair, “For now, I need your help back in the infirmary.”

With an annoyed grunt, Shinobu followed Kanae back to the infirmary. All the while she ranted within her mind. Everyone in this mansion was delusional. The only feelings she had for (Y/n) were ones of annoyance. But when she passed by the open door near the infirmary again and saw (Y/n) and Mitsuri cuddled up together in the grass, her heart betrayed her mind by pounding against her chest. Almost as if to burst right between her ribs and flop in the grass until it finally reached its destination. If Shinobu wouldn’t go to (Y/n), it would reach her on its own.

“Keep walking, Shinobu~” Kanae lightly warned, “If you want your peace, you must leave them be.”

Shinobu grit her teeth and continued off to the infirmary despite her heart’s protests. This is what she wanted, her heart would just have to deal with it.

***

The healing of the spider slayers was going much slower than anticipated. To Shinobu’s very much internal dismay, Kanae had asked Mitsuri if she could stay just a few days more, maybe a whole other week. For a moment, Shinobu thought things would finally go back to normal because Mitsuri simply couldn’t get anymore time away, but then Kanae suggested she take (Y/n) with her to keep training her until the spider slayers were closer to being cured.

To Shinobu’s dismay, both Mitsuri and (Y/n) found the idea favorable and the left together sometime that afternoon when Shinobu was busy making more stupid spider medicine.

“You seem to be grinding those herbs extra hard,” Kanae had noted, “I’m sorry, had I known you wanted to see them off, I would have come to get you, but you wouldn’t want to miss out on any peace and quiet, wouldn’t you?”

Damn her, Shinobu thought. It didn’t matter if she got to see (Y/n) off or not. She’d be back before she knew it, and in a way she was right, but not in the way she wanted to be.

Only two nights after (Y/n) had left with Mitsuri, she was being carried back in by the frantic Hashira that had taken her, bloody and unresponsive.

“I’m so sorry, Kanae!” Mitsuri cried, “I got distracted during the mission and didn’t notice right away that (Y/n) had been lured into an ambush pursuing a fleeing demon. She fought them off as long as she could before I could get to her, but… I feel awful! I didn’t know what to do, will she be okay?”

“Sit, Mitsuri,” Kanae soothed, “you got her here as fast as you could, that’s what matters. Let me take it from here—“

Shinobu pushed passed Kanae to (Y/n)’s cot, “This isn’t the time for talk, we need to get to work, now!” She demanded angrily.

“Shinobu,” Kanae warned, “if you want to help, you have to calm down. You won’t do her any good if you let your brashness cut corners.”

Shinobu continued to peer down at (Y/n)’s battered body and try as she might to quiet her boiling rage to a simmer, she could not. She was furious. Furious at the demons, even Kanae and Mitsuri to a lesser extent, but most of all she felt angry with herself. If she wasn’t so attached to her pride and stubbornness, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe her last words to (Y/n) wouldn’t have been so harsh. What if she died before Shinobu could apologize?

“Shinobu, leave.” Kanae made the difficult call upon seeing her sister’s wide-eyed distress, but Shinobu shook her head, refusing to let go of (Y/n)’s hand.

Kanae exhaled sharply, there was no time for this. She wasn’t going to lose her Tsuguko because of her sister’s guilty hovering.

“Shinobu,” the harsh tone made Shinobu flinch, “out. I promise to let you back in once I’ve administered proper care. Mitsuri, take her out with you please.”

Shinobu numbly allowed Mitsuri to lead her away, keeping her eyes on (Y/n) until a Kakushi closed the door behind them. Unwilling to stray any further, Shinobu slid to the ground opposite the infirmary, and waited. Straining her hearing for any hint of what was going on beyond the door.

“You care about her a lot,” Mitsuri spoke up softly after a few long minutes of silence, “why haven’t you told her?”

If that wasn’t the million dollar question… Shinobu kept silent.

“Well, don’t worry. Kanae is going to get her all fixed up and then you can tell her all the things you wanted to say, okay?”

What did Mitsuri know? Shinobu thought bitterly. Shinobu saw that gash on her forehead, that deep wound in her belly, no one could say with one hundred percent certainty that (Y/n) would recover from this.

“You should practice what you want to say.” Mitsuri said, hoping to distract Shinobu from her dark thoughts, “I’ll talk through it with you, if you want. I’m rooting for you guys.”

Part of Shinobu wanted to tell Mitsuri to mind her own business, but she really did need the help if she was going to go through with this properly. So she took a deep breath, and took a step in the right direction.

When Kanae came out of the infirmary hours later, Shinobu and Mitsuri rocketed up from the floor and before they could bombard Kanae with questions, she held up her hands and said,

“She’s going to be okay. You can go see for yourselves.”

And when Shinobu rushed to (Y/n)’s side, she definitely did look better already. Blood washed away, wounds expertly stitched, clean bandages and clothes. Shinobu hunkered down in the chair by her bedside, scooting it as close to the bed as she could before taking (Y/n)’s hand and holding between her own.

Kanae smiled and shook her head. It was a very rude awakening, but at the very least Shinobu was heading in the right direction now. She went to rest knowing (Y/n) would be well looked after.

***

When (Y/n) awoke, the harsh light burned her eyes so she quickly shut them as soon as she opened them. Her body felt heavy and stiff. She couldn’t even wiggle her fingers. Well, none on her left hand anyway. She couldn’t remember the demons doing anything that would warrant a cast over her hand, but there was too much going on to process every injury fully, she imagined. It was weird how warm and sweaty the cast had made her hand though. It was a little uncomfortable.

(Y/n) tried to flip to her side instead of laying flat on her back, but found she was too weak to do it and groaned quietly. The ‘cast’ around her hand constricted in a light squeeze and a soft voice hushed her. Kanae, she assumed. Kanae must be with her, holding her hand. That made sense. Oh, her poor Master. It must have been hard to see her like that.

She tried to open her eyes again, blinking several times before she could even hold a squint. Though her vision was still a bit blurry, it was clearly not Kanae by her bedside. No, it was… was it really Shinobu?

“(Y/n), you��re awake.” Shinobu sounded so relieved that (Y/n) wasn’t so sure she had actually woken up.

“You’re holding my hand.” She blurted. No filter with her head injury apparently.

“Do you want me to stop?” Shinobu asked awkwardly, no bite whatsoever, nor true embarrassment at getting caught. She just seemed… shy, maybe a little uncertain.

“No… it’s fine.” Though she would have liked to air out her hand a little, she didn’t want to risk Shinobu getting offended and breaking whatever spell had come over her.

“I, I have a lot I need to say to you. Will you hear me out?”

Though (Y/n) was nervous, she nodded, managing to free her fingers to wrap them over Shinobu’s hand that cradled her own beneath the other. Shinobu took in a shaky breath, than began as she and Mitsuri had practiced.

***

One Month Later

“You aren’t back to full strength yet, don’t be so discouraged.” Shinobu spoke softly to (Y/n) as she helped her up from the cushy training room floor.

“But still,” (Y/n) pouted, hugging Shinobu and looking for further comfort once she was on her feet again, “I wanna beat you just once, is that so much to ask for?”

“Put those puppy eyes away. We both know you wouldn’t be satisfied if I just let you win.” Shinobu said, rubbing (Y/n)’s back.

“No, it would still be satisfying. The only real reason you won’t let me win is because you’re too proud of your flawless record of beating me to the ground.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“But it’s truuue.” (Y/n) nuzzled her nose into Shinobu’s neck, making her laugh, “kiss me and make me feel better?”

“I guess I can give you that much.”

Shinobu coaxed (Y/n)’s face out of her neck with her hands on either side of her face and brought her in for kiss. She had only meant for it to be a short one, but (Y/n) had made it difficult to want to pull away, not that Shinobu really minded all that much. Not until she found herself suddenly pinned to the ground at least.

“I win!” (Y/n) grinned.

“No you don’t,” Shinobu frowned, “this wasn’t a match.”

“I didn’t actually say I forfeited, remember? This match is still on, baby!”

“Then my position still stands, you haven’t won anything yet,” Shinobu struggled against (Y/n)’s hold until she was nearly red in the face, but still she didn’t budge, “don’t you know cheaters never prosper?”

“All is fair in love and war, my dearest Shinobu.” (Y/n) giggled. “Are you gonna forfeit yet?”

Shinobu snuck her hands up (Y/n)’s back, making her shiver, she chuckled darkly, the same competitive glint in her eyes as always as she pulled the her girlfriend down to her lips.

“You wish.”

[daxerian]

Hard times

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Warnings: swearing, kinda toxic relationship, translated french and spanish

Words: 8.6k

A/n: I kinda enjoyed writing this😜

When y/n and Charles broke up in 2022 fans were shocked. They wanted to know what happend between their favourite couple that they have been in love for the whole 7 years they have dated.

When they broke up only Charles posted a story that said "there's no bad blood between us, we broke up in good terms. So please respect the privacy of y/n and our daughters, love Charles" and stuff like that you know? Well y/n didn't post anything because she knew that Charles made that up.

They ended their relationship in a fight. Arguing about the twins and then the breaking point of the relationship between the two happened.

"They've been to the paddock multiple times, I don't get it. Why can't they come now?" Charles spoke rather harshly on y/n, "Charles they've only been to the GP's that are hosted in Europe not America! They are 4 not 10 to spend 14 hours flying to Vegas" y/n only told him the truth and Charles knew that but something just bad just clicked inside of him. "Well if you weren't such a bad mother to them, you would let them come with me" and when that sentence came out of his mouth, he knew he just ended something beautiful.

"Oh" y/n said, of course she was hurt by the man she loved for nearly a decade. "No, Mon Chéri I didn't mean it like that" now feeling guilty he tried to apologize to her but he also knew that he fucked up and she wasn't going to take any apologies, "You call me a bad mother? I gave up my life in Spain just to move here so I could support your career, I left my whole family behind my back just to live with you in Monaco and travel with you so I could always be there for you and you call me like that? The mother of your children? You should be disgusted by yourself Charles" and of course Charles stayed quiet, finding himself crying too but the thing that broke him was when he saw the two little girls listening to their argument in the hallway.

"Oh mes doux anges" (oh my sweet angels) Charles said with hope that they didn't hear a lot, "Papa why is mami screaming?" Stella asked while Anastasia was quiet. "Me and papa were just talking about uhm life!" y/n made an excuse trying to convince the twins that everything is okay. "No you weren't" Ana said, and when she said that it was over because Ana is the quiet twin so when she said that then the explaining had to come.

"Well me and mami had a hard time deciding about something" Charles said, "But why are you crying? And why is mami crying too?" Stella asked. "We didn't agree on the same thing and that made us sad Stelly" y/n answered her eldest daughter. "But you said you left home to be here" Ana said, "Mami said that because she's angry, now come on let's get you both to bed, Il est tard" (it's late) Charles said. "buenas noches mis niñas" (good night my girls).

*next day*

The twins were spending the day with Arthur and Lorenzo so that Charles with y/n can discuss things.

"So what are we going to do?" Charles asked, "The twins heard us fighting, you called me a bad mother, and I don't think we can just say sorry and love eachother again like that argument never happened"

"I said i'm sorry for calling that" Charles started to get a bit angry and y/n didn't know why, he never got mad when people told him the truth so what's happening in his head is a mystery. "You think an apology can fix what you said?" y/n asked, "Why shouldn't it?", "Why shouldn't it? It's like what if I told you that you are a bad father that doesn't try his best, what if I told you your whole career is a joke, what if-" y/n couldn't even finish her sentence because Charles snapped at her, "You know I'm fucking trying to be there for our children" Charles is now raising his voice but for what reason? Y/n doesn't know "But are you trying enough? Were you here when they were sick with an infection? Or when they were crying that they miss you? No! You were away Charles, you didn't even bother to call for 2 weeks" It was now y/n’s turn to raise her voice at him. And Charles knew she was right so he stayed quiet.

"Charles I love you, and I always will. But I don't think this relationship is going anywhere with the arguments we've created over the past months" the anger that was in both of them faded out quicly. "No, please anything but this, y/n think about the twins, I-" Charles couldn't even find the words anymore, he knew he wasn't the greatest fiancé in the world but he tried to be there for her, for their children, for anybody. "It's the best for us, I won't move to Spain because of the children, I will stay here so we can be in contact and they can be with their papa and create memories" y/n said with all the hope that she had left for their relationship.

"And take this" she also added, "Are you sure?" Charles asked and also hoping she would keep the engagment ring he proposed with. "Yes take it Charles, there's no point in keeping it" y/n answered. "Okay, but how are we going to tell the twins" Charles asked rather sadly. "I don't know Charles" they made an eye contant and just like that, they knew exactly what to do.

They had to pretend that they are still together.

It was easy at first, Charles was sleeping in the guest room and y/n in their room, and in the morning Charles went to their bedroom and layed down again because the twins always went to their for the morning cuddles.

But then it came down to the end. Stella found Charles sleeping in the guest room.

Y/n tried to explain but Stella wouldn't listen to her, so she knew she had to tell her the truth. "Stelly me and papa got into difficult situation" and Little Stella was curious why her parents had difficulties between each other so, she answered her mami that it's okay and went to wake up her twin sister.

Later that day when y/n went to buy groceries, the two of them decided to investigate so they simply asked their papa. "Papa?" Ana asked Charles while looking at her twin, "Yes?" Charles answered. "We know you and mami don't love eachother anymore" Ana said and Charles was left speechless.

"What?" Charles asked the 4-year-old, "She said that we know you don't love mami anymore" Stella repeated. "No I love your mami very much" Charles answered trying to make it better. "No, mami told Stella that you-" "Okay stop the investigation and eat your food" Charles quickly ended this conversation.

*a few weeks later*

"Remember to still be kind to mami and then we will see eachother again tomorrow" Charles told the twins after their family time at the yacht. "But we want to see you everyday papa, this is not fair!" Stella basically screamed at her parents, she didn't get it, why were they with mami everyday and why not their papa. "We talked about this Stella, and don't yell at me!" Charles answered her, "But me and Stella want to be with you and mami everyday like before." Ana told Charles and he felt guilty, he felt guilty about that he couldn't save his relationship, and he felt guilty because he felt like he failed as a father.

*4 days later*

"Are you excited to see papa again?" y/n asked her children, "Yes!" both of them answered at the same time. And of course y/n saw how happy they are to finally visit their papa, but y/n couldn't lie and felt that something wrong will happened if they go over to Charles. And she was right.

Y/n knocked on the door and instead of Charles she saw a woman. A significantly younger woman. She looked like a teenager. "Malia!" Ana was happy to see the girl again whilst Stella just looked at her with disgust. "Move Malia, PAPA!"

Stella screamed for her father because she didn't like Malia, she was like evil to her and such an angel to her twin Anastasia. And y/n was curious, she wanted to talk to Charles so she did.

"Charles can we talk?" y/n asked Charles and he instantly understood what she wanted to talk about so he took her to his balcony. "Look I know what you want to talk about, if it's about Malia you can ask" Charles told her but not even making eye contact with her. "How old is she?" "20" Charles answered a bit ashamed. "Look Charles, I can't say anything about who you date but please don't make her think that she can be a new mom for them, please" y/n told him. "I already told her" "I appreciate it Charles."

Even though they didn't made it together as a couple, they will always be soulmates in every single way possible. And will always be parents to their amazing daughters who got them through a lot. They wouldn't trade it for anything. Not even the most expensive diamond, or painting, or anything really. Charles only needed y/n, Stella, and Anastasia. His 3 girls.

A/n: if you get any ideas for stories you can always request them with any driver ❤️ And I hope you enjoyed reading this

[rorybluez]

The EU French dub of "How Bad Can I Be?" got me in a chokehold so here's a rant-review of it

This is a collab with @etsulovesonceler :3 Absolutely do read their analysis on the DANISH 'How Bad Can I Be?' dub, it's bloody amazing

'C'EST MAL MAIS TANT PIS' aka 'I know it's bad, but f*ck it'

French dub was the first one I listened to with legitimate fascination and interest, so naturally it became my fave. I love how ENERGETIC and upbeat it is. It has the same effect as the Eng "how b-A-A-A-A-d can i be": it's catchy, flows and rhymes nicely and is impossible not to sing along to. You could've told me French was THE original version and honestly I would have believed you with ease, simply because it's SO DAMN WELL DONE.

Singer is a 10/10 for great vocals (obviously) and his acting towards the end of the song: he nails Once-ler's gradual descent into an arrogant, daring, untrustworthy and prideful character. Well, a lot of dubs did brilliantly on this part, but French one's full awareness of what he's doing makes him unique in my eyes. The way he sings out "Et c'est tellement GRATIFIANT" with so much DELIGHT, like he's truly relishing in his success is TASTY. Not giving two shits about the "bad" part at all, but it's The Once-ler, so it's a given I suppose.

SPEAKING OF, LEMME TELL YOU, FRENCH TRANSLATORS ABSOLUTELY COOKED HERE. Whoever wrote the lyrics, they must've been related to the creation of "Biggering" somehow or at the very least were big fans. Premise of his entire song is "I know DAMN well it's bad, but I couldn't care less tbh" The whole perspective is different now and stays somewhat true to "Biggering"s message. Rather drastic change from the original: bolder, blunter, harsher, honest, more ruthless and got a hella serious tone. Sure, he triES to excuse himself with "I don't know what has come over me" and "This is the life the fate chose for me" lines but…yeah, they're of little help, if any.

Some may argue that Once realizing his wrongdoings so early on in the song takes away from the impact "The Last Tree" had on him in the end, but if anything, I believe it gives him complexity. It's all about big talk, justifications and seeming indifferent until he actually HAS to face the consequences of his major fuck-up. The "Well too bad, could be worse for all I care" to "well damn, i should've cared" pipeline is real, which ultimately prompts him to say "actually, DO care. Care a whole awful lot" to Ted as his final message.

This dub singlehandedly added several layers to Once-ler's character with THIS LYRICAL DECISION ALONE and it's one of the many reasons why I adore it so much.

Besides, c'mon guys French is hot. Once speaking french? Attractive, next question.

European French lyrics and translation: https://lyricstranslate.com/en/how-bad-can-i-be-quel-point-puis-je-etre-mauvai.html-0

[the-kings-tail-fin]

How about a scenario where Rip Clutchgowski meets Raoul Caroule and they become friends?

If you would have told me when I woke up this morning that I'd be spending several hours writing Rip Clutchgoneski angst, I'd have gotten up a whole lot earlier XD

_

They talk about the tragedy, about the dimming plausibility of alternative fuel, and about a racer coming in last with a DNF in the first race of the World Gran Prix. They throw around conspiracy theories and pseudo-tech talk, all from cars that know nothing of real racing; they're just screen personalities hosting pity parties and getting paid a full digit or two more than he's ever seen in a bank account.

They don't talk about the pain. There's no tell of blown gaskets or severed crankshafts, nothing about fried piston rings or fractured valve covers. Heat - being on fire on the inside, they don't know what that feels like. They only care about replaying the same fifteen second video clip over and over again.

He'd turned the television off long ago - watching himself explode from the inside out time and time again wasn't particularly comforting. The WGP was supposed to be his Cinderella story - the headlines had been following him for weeks leading up to this. "Mute New Rearendian Racer Makes it Big!" and "Putting New Rearendia On The Map - How Clutchgoneski Silently Raced His Way To The Top."

This was his big break. He'd done it. Despite all the odds, he'd made it this far. For his country, for all those like him, and most importantly - for himself. He was going to travel the world! Something he never thought he'd be able to do, and aside from racing, it was all he'd wanted as a young car. This was his opportunity to do both. And he was running third - third! in the Tokyo race! Right up until the end, anyway.

Now he sits in a small, barren hospital room somewhere on the fringes of the largest city in Japan. There's the TV on the wall across from him, small and outdated, a lamp, dimly lit in a corner, and a framed artistic photo that says something he doesn't understand. Aside from the machine next to him and the wires and hoses connecting him to it, there's nothing. A window would have been nice, but he knows he shouldn't be picky. He's lucky to be here at all.

His crew chief stops in every once in a while, tells him that they're overnighting parts from Rearendia - there're just none to be had locally. They'll be here soon, as soon as someone can locate them, load them onto a plane, and have that plane fly halfway around the globe.

A few of the other racers stop by, if only for a few minutes. Carla, Miguel, and that German guy, whatshisname - Snail or something. They offer some kind words and well wishes in broken English that Rip appreciates but struggles to understand himself. He just smiles and nods. His personal digital assistant that he usually uses to communicate with others is somewhere with the race team, no one thought to bring it to him. He's now lost track of how many quiet, lonely hours he's spent in that room.

There's a knock at the door, then a pause. Slowly, the door cracks open as someone peers into the room. Rip recognizes the paint scheme immediately - they spent much of the race near each other, passing back and forth between the dirt and asphalt sections of the track. He motions for his visitor to enter.

Raoul gives his competitor a half-hearted smile as he gently closes the door behind him. What a mess. Raoul's been in plenty of crashes, they're second nature to him at this point, but never anything that resulted in something like this. Blown engine, yeah every racer gets one sooner or later but - wow, that's a lot of wires and - whatever else is coming out of that machine.

They both know there's no common language between them, Rip's surprised he's even there. But he appreciates the show of good will.

Raoul lays a few pieces of paper down on the floor in front of Rip. One's a pamphlet for the WGP that they made for the fans, like a passport that they can take with them and get stamped if they follow and attend the races around the world with the teams. The other looks like a... vacation brochure?

Raoul points to the cartoony map on the WGP pamphlet, and Italy. He then points to Rip.

"Porto Corsa?" He raises his brow as he asks the question with a thick accent.

Rip understands. Is he going to Porto Corsa after this? He nods enthusiastically. As long as the parts get here soon, there's still a few days left before they need to be in Italy.

Raoul smiles and says something rapidly in French. There's an abrupt pause as he stops himself and looks at Rip, who shrugs to the best of his ability.

"Mmmm." Raoul hums as he thinks about how best to explain himself.

He points again to the brochure, at Italy again.

"Porto Corsa."

Rip peers down at it and tries to follow along. Raoul moves his tire from Italy over to the left just a smidge and points to his home country.

"France."

Raoul then pushes the WGP map out of the way and pulls the travel brochure in front of Rip. There are mountains, and a picture of two cars racing their way up the side of one on an immaculate switchback course. One car is a rally car, the other a sports car, and they appear to be racing their way up this mountain on two perfectly parallel winding roads - one dirt and one asphalt.

"Alpes françaises!" Raoul exclaims excitedly, rapidly tapping on the picture a few times.

"Moi!" He points to the rally racer in the picture, and then to himself.

Then he points to Rip and draws his attention to the sportscar on the brochure.

"Toi!"

Rip grins. Go race in the French Alps? Is he kidding? Might as well, since they're going to be so close by anyway, right? He nods in furious agreement.

Raoul flashes a competitive smile and playfully revs his engine. He grabs the WGP brochure and crumples it with his tire before tossing it into the far corner of the room. He double taps the Alps brochure and pushes it closer to Rip as he turns and heads for the door.

He says something in French, Rip doesn't know exactly what, but he understands. Racing. That's their universal language. They'll figure out the details when they get to Italy.

It takes the majority of an entire day for the new parts to arrive, but Rip doesn't care. He's memorized the map in the brochure, and he knows exactly which roads he wants to race. He's going to go see the world whether the world wants him to or not.

[honeystwiggypeach]

HEAR ME OUT, DARK ROYAL AU! WITH DRACO MALFOY… GIGGLING 🤭

I love this so much😭I ended up talking with them about this request and we talked about tons of little details and it’s adorable I love it!!! (I do take high school level French so I know a little like enough to where I formed most of these sentences on my own but pls let me know if I say anything wrong!!)

Royal au x Draco

(King and single dad!draco x French teacher!reader)

Tw- cursing in French and English, my French is bad I can’t use the curse words and other phrases I know in French because they’re a dialect so I google translated the cursing and a few phrases in addition to the letter which was translated by the requester(if there’s some mistranslated things let me know because I suck at translations😭)nightmares, pls let me know if I missed anything idk if I did but just in case!!

When Draco hired you to teach Scorpius French, it was a hassle keeping him even relatively interested in it, and it was rather difficult for him to remember any of it sense, Draco wasn’t able to speak French with him, he had lessons maybe three times a week and didn’t like to study and when he did want to study he didn’t have the time to do any of it before being whisked away to an etiquette class.

“Alright, so from the beginning introduce yourself.” You smile softly at Scorpius when he nod’s determinedly the expression looking odd on a five year old.

“Je m’appelle Scorpius” he lets out a little breath at getting through the first sentence

“Good job Scorpius, now onto your pets.”

“Je possede un chat. Elle s’appelle Luna. Elle suis chat blanche”

“You did so well!” You give him a little high five before pushing his blond almost white hair away from his eyes, “what do you want to talk about next?”

You watch as he taps his chin thinking about what thing he’d like to be the subject of his next lesson, “uhm lets do…dad’s birthday” Yoh smile fondly.

You knew Scorpius was excited, every year for the King’s birthday they’d have a big party and until Scorpius would have his debut he couldn’t have a party, which was fine he just got to attend his dad’s which he had fun with!

“Alright we can start that next lesson than…how about we think about what we’re going to get your dad for his birthday” Scorpius nods excitedly.

Sometimes Draco pissed you off and thaf was ok, it was fine nothing major as long as he couldn’t understand your French cursing you were fine.

For instance the one time he came in lecturing you about how Scorpius didn’t have time for his etiquette classes because you’d asked for him to study.

“Please Scorpius doesn’t even study!” You huff out and Draco rolls his eyes.

“Excuse me! He reads the book at night!”

“That’s not studying!” You shout as he turns his back to leave the room shouting a ‘yes it is’ right back

“Oh, va te faire foutre” you pull the doors shut behind him before storming over to the desk.

“Madame Y/n?” You hum in acknowledgment of Scorpius as you sift through your pile of lesson plans, “what does” you can see it coming from a mile away but you can’t open your mouth fast enough to tell him not to say kiss my ass in French.

“Va te faire foutre mean?” And he’s looking up at you with the most adorably wide innocent eyes.

“Scorp, you can’t say that it’s a curse word only grown ups like me and your daddy can say that ok?” He nods you know he’s got no concept of curse words but you can’t help but pay his head and praise him for being such a good kid.

Now mind you, you were still a bit pissed at Draco but it was a requirement to get him a gift so why not make him work for it. First you begin searching in every book you own for a decent riddle, this wasn’t going to be the difficult part.

Once you’d finally found one you smiled victoriously as you wrote it down in the note book. Scorpius had been long gone from the dark and empty library by now telling you he had to go to piano lessons. You could never understand how such an adorable little boy lived in such a cold and cruel castle. While Draco was no where near a bad father, it was clear he was a little lost on certain things with the way that he’d practically dragged himself to your room multiple times throughout the year to ask you questions about raising children as if you’d known more than him, always spilling out the excuse that you’ve worked with more kids than he has anyways!

He wasn’t a bad guy you’ll give him that.

You giggle slightly writing the note,

“To gain your gift solve the riddle- Je n’ai pas de début ou de fin, je n’ai pas d’amis ou de mère. Je t’envoie souvent des peurs, et toi, quand tu penses à moi, une larme te glisse sur le visage. C’est à quel point je suis juste et propre - c’est connu, comme l’air et le vent que vous ne pouvez pas maîtriser, Je vais toujours passer à autre chose, tandis que ton cœur se durcit comme de la pierre” it was highly likely that you’d have to let Scorpius translate the riddle for Draco but that was ok, this was your own little way of getting Scorpius to study and as a bonus spend time with Draco.

So he’d sat across from his dad telling him each individual word, until finally Draco had written out, “I have no beginning or end, I have no friends or mother. I often send you fears, and you, when you think of me, a tear slips down your face. It's how fair and clean I am - it's known, like the air and the wind you can't control, I'll always move on, while your heart hardens like stone"

However what you didn’t expect was to see Draco chasing Scorpius throughout the house as he giggled wildly watching as Draco chased him write into the garden before finally catching up to him and settling him onto his hip.

“Are you going to tell me yet?” He asks after he’s tickled him a bit and Scorpius giggles before telling him no again.

And true to his word Scorpius refused to give him the answers to the riddle after he had translated it to English for him.

So for the next week and a half you watched Draco go through his whole library and bedroom looking for the riddle but because poor Scorpius isn’t the best translator, some of the words were missing which caused Draco to miss the vital clues that could have lead to an answers.

So after he couldn’t find it in the books he asked all the staff who were just as clueless.

That meant when time came for the party, the one you really didn’t want to attend draco didn’t get his gift.

Which really through him off actually. He’s never met a woman who didn’t fall to his feet the minute he breathed, much less made him work for their attention, he was enthralled. You were different, you treated Scorpius well, you had a great personality, you were pretty, and you were just someone he could see himself with…what is he thinking right now?

He shakes his head slightly trying not to draw attention in the middle of the party which is over before any of you know it.

Draco tiredly drags himself to your bedroom already in his night clothes, he might as well ask what the answer was.

After listening to him tiredly ramble from the foot of the bed your soft giggles filled the room, “it’s the time Draco, the answer is the time” his eyes widen in surprise, “really?” You nod a little laugh bubbling in your throat, you never new he could be so cute.

“So what was the gift?” He’s looking at you like an excited puppy, “uhmmm” his face drops, you knew he couldn’t solve it was that your intention did you not like him that much?

“I was going to let you pick really” you pick at your comforter as a smile works it’s way across Draco’s face.

“So hypothetically if I would have gotten it you would have given me a date?”

“Depends on the person like if you asked for a date from-“ he cuts you off

“You of course”

“Oh…well I would…but if you asked nice enough you can still have one” you both are interrupted by the little knock on your door, it’s Scorpius he’s likely had a nightmare he always comes around this time when he has nightmares.

When he opens the door you can see the tears that well in his eyes, “oh honey” you whisper softly and before Draco can move to comfort his baby boy Scorpius is wrapped up in your arms asking if you can read a book to him.

Draco blinks a bit realizing why exactly Scorpius would go to you instead of Draco who worked in his office at this time…but that was ok as long as he felt safe and loved

Let me know if you guys like want a part two or just anything else because I love requests so much!!!

[frobin]

For the one piece party series, I never said they were canon story wise. But they are more like mini adventures. For the scene where Nami is calling Law cutie is in volume 4 if I’m correct. This comedic series does have their quirks and habits,somethings that were discussed in sbs’ while never put on paper in the main manga. I read it in the French version, so don’t know what the Japanese version said. The storyboard is approved by Oda and maybe the dialogue also(don’t remember that though). Con

Hey there anon! Thank you once more for writing and clearing that up!

I decided to answer this directly (later than planned, thanks to tumblr deleting my answer before I could save it) because it's about the posting that was posted earlier:

I don't know if this is the right scene but it's what I found in volume four (please excuse the bad quality and that it's in german):

Nami is teasing Law about the "D" and says it might mean "DO" which apparently is short for Dotei and means male virgin in Japanese why Law reacts so embarrassed.

Chopper tries to tell him that there is no need to be embarrassed and that everyone starts out as a virgin.

To which Law answers that maybe he isn't even embarrassed and also not everyone is starting out as a virgin!

Which makes Chopper react with a "huh?"

Because same XD Maybe Law means the D. again or he means the zodiac? idk.

Anon: Continued…*** **** thing,I read about it 7-8 years ago, so I doubt I could find it easily again. It’s like an interview fan translated into English. Also Oda deemed it too dark as well, thus why he changed it. This isn’t Berserk after all. Yes, the author of that opp just uses Law in these stupid scenarios because the real Law doesn’t do that in the main manga. They do everything in a goofy,over exaggerating way. But the series is approved by Oda storyboard wise and dialogue(don’t remember that) Anon: Either it was written at the ends of the volumes or sellers websites description. I don’t remember it cause it’s been a while. Again if Oda’s ex assistant seemingly ships somebody, then it’s certainly not a problem for anybody. I just found that seemed to be his preference shipping wise. That’s all.

I still feel weird about Oda saying something like that. Because yeah it really does seem to dark. Berserk levels of darkness indeed and again, OP is supposed to be for teenage boys.

I couldn't find anything and I feel like there needs to be a trace of that... but nothing. :Ia A page with all the interviews translated would be neat... if anyone knows about something like this, please share!

Anyway, it is true tha Ei Ando used to be Odas assistant and that he is checking the stories. It is written in the Volumes, that is correct.

I'd still take it with a pinch of salt because I don't think he is reading as closely as some of us fans and I don't think that he checks on possible hints towards ships.

Personally I don't see any prference of Ei Ando but that might be because I haven't read it like that. All I know is that there is not much FRobin which could be a concious decision because they already have a strong presence.

But if she indeed ships Law/Nami... good for her!

[loubrary]

Billy Hargrove x Male Reader

Headcanons: You’re new in town and help Billy become a better person.

Warnings: mentions of violence and homophobia, hints of smut.

A/N: This doesn’t really follows the ST timeline but who cares about canon or accuracy, am I right?

[ Masterlist ]

Your parents move you a lot due to their jobs, they’re always researching something in some strange corner of the world. You can’t understand how you went from living in South America for the last six months to living in middle-of-nowhere Hawkins Indiana.

You’re out to your parents, and they’re very supportive. You consider yourself lucky, they’re very modern and open-minded people.

The kids at your new school don’t know what to make of you with your different clothes, hair and accent. Some of the teachers are fascinated to learn of the places you’ve been to. 

When you met Robin your gaydars went off and you’re both excited to have a Fellow Gay in town. She introduces you to her friend Steve and the three of you become very close. Soon you are also helping Steve take care of his kids.

Billy hears of this strange new kid and goes to look for him to show him who owns this school. When Billy sees you he is enthralled, the world stops and all he sees is you, he feels a strange sensation inside, and he hates it.

In the days that follow, Billy makes his moves. He is mean to you, calls you names. He tries to intimidate you and scare you. But you’ve dealt with his type many times before and you have some tricks up your sleeve. 

Billy hates that you don’t react to his taunting. You just smile and laugh.

“F*g!”

“You too?! Wanna go on a date, darling? Bad boys with pretty hair are totally my type, Hargrove.”

His words don’t work, so he changes his tactics. 

You’re walking through an empty hallway when he attempts to grab you and slam you against the wall. Only to find himself on the floor completely immobilized. He had no clue you had trained in various martial arts. 

Putting the pain aside, Billy is turned on by the feeling of being dominated, he feels himself hardening against the cold floor. 

You lean down and whisper in his ear, “think twice before daring to touch me, pretty boy.” You let him go. 

One side of him wants to fight but when he sees the determination and fearlessness in your eyes he backs down. “This isn’t over,” he huffs and leaves stomping the floor.

Billy leaves you alone after that. He only glares at you and curses at you under his breath. He hates that he can’t stop thinking about that day. He hates that he enjoyed being under your control. He hates how he can only cum to images of you. But at this exact moment he hates seeing you with Steve laughing. 

You feel his eyes on you, how they follow you as you move. When you face him his face hardens and his fists clench, but there’s something in his eyes you can’t decipher. 

One day you’re alone in the showers, or so you think. You turn and see Billy checking you out from the other side, completely frozen. You notice his hard-on and his eyes open wide. He thinks you’ll say something but you just smile and wink at him. He leaves hurriedly trying to control himself. 

That confirms your suspicions and you know what is up with Billy. You’ve met guys with internalized homophobia, but never like Billy.

After that, teasing Billy becomes one of your favourite activities. You pay him visits at the pool, making sure he gets a nice view of you. You notice when he covers his lap with his magazine, and tries to focus on something else. 

“Why do we come to the public pool? We both have pools at home,” Steve complains. Robin laughs at the clueless boy, and proceeds to explain the situation.

One day Billy finds you alone and he attempts to make a move on you. He was so confident believing you’d accept his advances. 

“I’m not some desperate lonely gay boy, Billy. I don’t bend over for any hot guy that offers me his dick.” “So you think I’m hot?” He smirks. You scoff leaving him there.

Billy hates that you rejected him. How is it possible? He thinks of the guys he tormented and then fucked back in California, how easy they fell to their knees for him. 

Billy has never met a gay guy as confident and unafraid as you. Deep inside he feels jealous and admiration for you. He secretly wishes he could be as open and be free as you.

You get paired for a project, you are prepared to do all the work and let him take part of the credit. You’re shocked when he asks if you want to get together to work on the project. You’re even more shocked when you learn that he actually understands the material and is quite smart. 

Against your better judgement you invite him to your place. You’re surprised he shows up on time.

When he greets your parents, it’s like he’s a completely different person. He laughs at your dad’s jokes, compliments your mom, and even asks about what they are working on.

Billy is even more jealous of you when he sees how loving and caring your parents are, how happy and peaceful your home life is. 

The second time he comes over he has to excuse himself and go to the bathroom to splash some water on his face and calm down. All he can think of is everything you have that he doesn’t.

He finds you and your parents sitting tightly together as your mother reads a book out loud in french for you and your dad. 

“Sit down honey, I’ll translate for you,” your mother says. 

By the fourth day he accepts your parents’ invitation to stay for dinner. He has fun, he’s fascinated by your parents’ stories and their research work. 

You get a glimpse of the real Billy and can’t help but smile. 

One day during dinner your mother talks about your exes trying to embarrass you, and asks Billy if there’s a special boy in his life.

Billy’s breath hitches and starts to sweat. He stands up quickly bumping into the table, saying he has to leave. 

Your mom tries to apologise and your dad asks him to stay. 

You follow him outside the house. “Billy, wait!” 

He turns around to face you and his eyes are red as he tries to hold in the tears. “Hey, it’s all—“ “I’m not a... I’m not.” he grunts before getting in his car and speeding off. 

Billy parks somewhere secluded and hits the steering wheel with his fists, he cries and yells in anger. He’s angry, sad, jealous. 

He cries for his mom, for a life he wishes he had, for the love and support he yearns for. 

Billy returns the following week to finish the project. He plans to just focus on the project, finish it and never return. 

Your mom answers the door. “So good to see you, love, we’ve missed you,” she says warmly rubbing his arm, “sorry about the other day”. He almost doesn’t hear the last sentence, he hasn’t heard those words or felt that way in a long time. Someone being happy to see him, missing him, calling him love. 

Your dad greets him and calls him son, and asks him to join him later in the study to show him their latest findings. 

You and Billy don’t talk about what happened. You focus on your project.

“Have you always been out to your parents?” Billy blurts out.

You decide to be honest. “Yeah, they sort of figured it out when I was little.” You tell him how growing up you met all kinds of people through your parents. You tell him about your parents’ gay friends that you call uncles and aunts. Telling him how you always felt free to be yourself with your parents even though you know the world is cruel and unaccepting. 

After a moment of silence Billy speaks. He talks about the only openly gay person he ever met, a friend of his mom back in California. He tells you about how his father hated his mom’s friend and got in fights with his mom about it. 

He tells you about his dad, how aggressive and angry he is. He doesn’t tell you about the physical abuse. He went on about how unhappy he was, and how different your lives were. 

You start to see why Billy acts the way he does. Bullying others is his way to feel he is in control.

“How do you do it?” 

“What?” 

“Being gay like that, you don’t hide.” 

“We only live once, I’m not gonna let a world full of bigots tell me I can’t be myself and be happy.” You pause. ”Billy? You can always be yourself here.”

After you finish your project, Billy keeps coming to your place to hang out. 

He’s more relaxed and tones down the attitude. He even starts being nice to Max.

He’s still the bad boy to everyone else, but when he enters your home all that stays outside.

You learn more about the real Billy. How he likes science and music. How curious he is. How funny he can be. And you slowly start to fall for this Billy.

One day Billy and you are in the living room listening to music lying on the carpet and giggling when your mom comes in. “Honey, your friends are here.”

You both look up and see a shocked Steve and the kids, and a grinning Robin. Max is especially shocked by the whole scene.

“Oh hey guys, you know Billy, right? We’re just listening to this new album.”

Billy panics, and stands up to escape, “I have to go.” You understand, not wanting to force him into anything. 

The others sit down looking suspiciously at Billy as he leaves. Billy avoids all eye contact. “What did I get himself into?” Billy thinks. 

Meanwhile Robin and you have each other’s arm over your shoulders as you sing dramatically.

“Is anyone going to talk about how you were on the floor giggling with Billy Hargrove?” Mike asks. 

One rainy night, Billy is driving to your house. His eyes sting, his knuckles turn white gripping the wheel. He feels his cheek and eye starting to swell. He stays on the driveway debating on what to do. He sees your bedroom light on and goes to ring the bell hoping that you open the door.

It’s your mom that opens the door. “Billy? Come on in, love, you’re soaking wet.” When he steps into the lit hallway your mom finally sees his face. “Oh my god, sweetheart. What happened?” 

“Who is it darling? Oh Billy!  Are you okay, son?” Your dad asks him.

Billy wants to lie, he had this planned, he would have said how he got into a fight with another guy and didn’t want to go home looking like that. “I got—I...” he tries. But he can’t keep it in anymore. “It was... My—my dad...” he chokes as he lets out a cry. 

He feels two sets of arms engulf him, and he lets is all out. He cries like he’s never cried before. He thinks he hears your name being called. He hears your parents’ voices, encouraging and supportive words he can barely make up. He cries even more when he think of how these people that he met not long ago care more about him than his own father. 

You find your parents consoling Billy. Your mom is holding him while your dad rubs circles on his back. And Billy holds on to them like his life depends on it.“Billy?” He looks up to you and you see his broken face, all the pain and suffering he has endured and your heart breaks for him. 

You help him get up and walk him to the living room. Your dad goes to prepare the guest room and your mother prepares some tea. Billy is curled into a ball under a blanker with his head on your lap. You run your hand through his hair as you rub his arm comfortingly. 

When he calms down, he starts telling you of everything his dad has done. All the punches, the bruises, the hurtful words. 

Later you take him to the guest room, you help him get his clothes off and rub some medicine over his bruises. 

“Can you stay with me?” 

“Of course.”

You hold him close, his face pressed on your chest. 

For the first time in a long while Billy sleeps peacefully.

After that day your parents take action, they’re on the phone with their lawyers, looking at how they can help Billy and Max.

Your parents help him get custody of Max. 

The both of them move in with your family. 

“Can’t believe you’re taking me to live with your boyfriend,” Max tells him. “He’s just a friend,” he groans. “Yeah, right.”

That night Billy is in your bed as you read to him, his head on your lap. “Thank you,” he says pulling your book down to look at you. “What for?” You ask, running a hand through his hair. “For saving me, and Max.” You smile and kiss his forehead and continue with the story.

In the morning you wake up to Billy facing you, looking at you and he smiles. 

“You okay?” He nods and reaches for your hand, holding it tightly as he scoots closer to you.

You move a loose strand of hair behind his ear, caressing his cheek, feeling how soft his skin is. 

You two stay like that for a while just enjoying each other’s warmth in silence, playing with your hands and looking into other’s eyes. Neither of you can’t stop smiling. 

“I love you, (y/n).”

“I love you too, Billy.”

[chicoriii]

Season 4, Episode 17 - Larme Ultime (Rocketear)

So this is a DjiWifi episode from which comes a screenshot I've seen over a month ago (I think). It's good they got it, before season 4 started I really wanted it to happen and to see a kiss between Nino and Alya in it (but that didn't happen and I don't get why, only the main pairing is allowed to kiss in this show or what?), but now I could not be excited about it anymore, because I'm sick of Alya and I'm not able to hide it. Yes, I'm biased, but I'm just a normal viewer and I have right to dislike her favouritism.

My the biggest thought after watching this is that it looks like since Optigami, Alya is not only a deuteragonist, like I said in my post about Sentibubbler, she's actually more like a co-protagonist now. That was an extremely Alya-centric episode (even more than Lie was was about Adrien, as it was mostly Ladybug who saved the world like almost always, also because Chat sacrificed himself again), while in Optigami and this one she has screentime comparable to Marinette. I'm still trying to avoid spoilers (so please, don't tell what's going to happen in the next episodes, I don't want to know), but I'm sure that either 15 or 16 is also highly about her, because we've seen the new Rena's suit in this episode and it looked like it wasn't the first episode with it. But really, I won't be surprised if Alya has lots of screentime in both episodes and all others to the end of the show as well. I don't think Adrien is ever going to get as much special treatment like Alya. :/ The creators have never been as nice to him.

Didn't the writes have enough ideas for another story arcs? And thanks to it they were able to save money, because then creators could just reuse old models of villains more than before. Have anyone noticed that S4 has even fewer number of completely new characters than previous seasons? The scientist seen at the start of the episode has detailed model, so she had to be akumatised in any of the previous unreleased episodes (or one of the next ones). And why she looks a lot like Alya, is she her relative? If yes, you know what that means? Another excuse to make an episode full of the fox wielder, because, you know, it’s not like she already got enough occasions to shine in S4. 

Speaking of Rena Rouge's new suit. What a waste, it would be great for a potential chameleon Miraculous, so it seems it won't be ever created for canon. So bad, I think it's one of the coolest animal, so a Miraculous based on it would be awesome. It could one from an African Miracle Box which should appear, since they are planning making an African special. The suit is good and all, but I still feel disappointed that it's not the superpower of a chameleon Miraculous. :(

Why is Nino acting over the top out of nowhere? I like film noir atmosphere, fedoras and especially jazz music full of saxophones (my favourite music genre and instrument), but it looks totally ridiculous when he's like that. I thought it's Marinette's speciality, and he beat her in that category. I'm not trying to say it's a a bad thing, it just feels weird seeing Nino like that. And since I love jazz, I would like to listen to that film noir-esque music more once I got 5.1 audio, since it was hardly heard in the episode. It didn't sound much interesting, but it's too early to judge it seriously.

Too bad they had written the main conflict in the episode using one of the biggest romantic cliche - misunderstanding in which one character see and\or hear something, but not the whole thing, so said character interprets it wrong. Motifs like that are rather annoying, so it's good something similar haven't happened in the Love Square's arc (yet at least). Though I have a big issue with how they write it this season and I'm going to make a post about it (is anyone interested?).

The akuma is one the ugliest and has one of the most laziest power ever. Really? He shoots using tear bullets and does nothing more? I know many people hate Bubbler's design, but no matter how silly it looks, it was much more creative than this.

And of course the whole thing with Alya remembering the whole conversation with Chat Noir was extremely far-fetched. The could think about something more believable, but I'm not surprised it happened, since I think this season is generally more lazy written than previous ones.

On the other hand, I'm surprised that Marinette is actually aware that Shadow Moth should not know that Alya is still Rena Rouge. It seems that the whole episode 15 (or 16) is about they trying to figure out what to do with that problem.  I won't be surprised if Alya would do it all by herself like it happened with protecting charms in Mr Pigeon 72, because it's completely normal that a random person who has never met Fu is better at decrypting the grimoire than someone who has been trained to be a guardian to some extend :/ Still I think they should not be sure that camouflage mode would solve the problem completely. From what I understand the new suit doesn’t make her completely invisible to others. Rena could be seen by anyone who takes a photo of her and then post in on the internet (it won't be believable that she's the only one crazy about superheroes in Paris). But at least they tried to do something and Marinette sees the danger to some extend. It’s something new.

It's not like Alya is careful, she's completely reckless (and they think she's a good reporter material? Don't make me laugh) and she still thinks more about her own fun in being the superheroine than safety of herself or the world. But of course, it's not gonna happen, because plot armor is very strong in this show. I really had a feeling that she acted like a little child in the first minutes of the episode. She's unable to see that her situation is not a joke. She should be all happy that Marinette still lets her to keep the fox Miraculous. She really lacks humility and I see it clearly since Optigami at least. Besides, Marinette ignores another red flags, that Alya is taking pictures of herself in the new suit no one is supposed to see and thinking about posting them on Ladyblog (was Bunnix right that Alya is able to reveal Miraculous secrets on her blog because of her overenthusiasm and lack of ability of seeing consequences of her actions?).

By the way, now I think, if Alya can't keep in secret that she's still Rena Rouge from Nino (which happens because it's needed for the plot), so how could she be all fine with keeping in secret other facts like that Ladybug gave her the fox permanently and she knows her identity (which isn't happening because the plot doesn't require it)? She still has to lie on Nino because of these secrets.

They are making Marinette a big hypocrite this season. Since she revealed herself to Alya, it's been shown that secret identities rule was bullshit from the start, but Marinette is still saying that heroes can't reveal their identities to anyone. What? What has she done before like not revealing herself to someone, so how she dares keep saying about how crucial is keeping secrets from everyone? Sorry writers, I can't take that rule seriously anymore since Alya knows and no one should. Because Marinette told Alya, she could tell it to other persons she trust as well. What's the difference between her best friend and the rest of the people in the world? Is Alya the only person she trusts? In fact, revealing herself to Sabine, for example, would be much better choice. She's actually wise and mature unlike Alya and her secrets would be much more safe with her mother.

I've seen Chat Blanc again on TV recently and I remembered one thing Ladybug told to Bunnix there: "The best-kept secrets are the ones you never share." (Google Translate says that the line is exactly the same in the French original). Some episodes later, she isn't thinking twice if she should tell all the guardian secrets to Alya. Okay, she revealed her identity because of being too emotional in that exact moment, but then when she calmed down, she should be able to think if telling all the Miraculous secrets is a good idea. The other hypocritical thing is telling Chloé "you can't be Queen Bee anymore, because Hawk Moth knows your identity" but still calling the other heroes whose identities have been exposed.

So I can't even blame Alya for telling Nino the truth if the guardian herself is not following her own rules. Not to mention, Marinette doesn't address wrong things Alya is doing at all, so no wonder she feels she could do anything, she won't get punished, no matter what. After all, it's not the first moment in which she does something her best friend forbid her.

And we can say the show has been confirmed that Nino is even worse at keeping secrets, especially in crisis situations, so why people wanted to see Adrien revealing himself to Nino? It's obvious that he would tell Adrien's secret to Alya and maybe some other people as well.

I thought that since S3 finale Adrien is supposed to know identities of every backup hero from seasons 2 and 3 and I was ready to be salty about that as well. But yes, actually after purification of Miracle Queen's akuma, brainwashed heroes didn't detransform. They were forgotten completely and we don't even know what happened with them exactly. I suppose Ladybug took their Miraculous when Chat Noir wasn't there anymore.

Adrien has every right to be angry at Ladybug, she treats him so badly, since Alya knows her own secrets and she doesn't even have the guts to admit that. But I'm going to say about my the biggest issue in the Chat Noir and Ladybug's situation in another post, I hope I would write before the next episode airs.

[atinydise]

Ateez reacting to their s/o speaking a bunch of languages

❦ Genre: Fluff/crackhead.

❦ Pairing: OT8.

❦ Word count: 13k.

❦ Requested: Yes, thank you! 🦋 

❦ Masterlist.

❦ Warning: ⚠️I used Google Translation for most of the languages used here! So I apologize in advance if I made mistakes. Feel free to correct me (as someone did already 🥺)! Thank you!

HONGJOONG (Korean)

You were walking hand in hand with Hongjoong. It was a bit cold, so you took the opportunity to stick yourself to your boyfriend, a bit closer than usual. “Are you cold Y/N?” he asked, noticing that you were glued to him. “No… I’m just enjoying your presence.” You smiled at him. “Oh, then I won’t complain.” He tickled your chin before wrapping his arm around your waist. You continued to walk peacefully, enjoying the Christmas lights. Hongjoong was always so happy during this period. He wanted to go out and admire the decoration with you. You were dating for 2 weeks now. It was a fresh and new relationship. Both of you were still a bit shy and awkward sometimes but it was getting better these days.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you.” He suddenly asked you. “Hum… there’s so much thing that you know already.” “In 2 weeks? Come on, tell me your little secrets.” He insisted. “Okay okay…” you chuckled. “My favorite meal is… pizza!” “I knew that already babe.” “Okay what about-” “저기요?” (excuse me) Both of you stopped to look at the schoolgirl standing next to you. “전화 좀 빌릴 수 있을까요? 저는 제 것을 잃어버렸고, 어머니께 전화를 해야 해요.” (Can I borrow your phone, please? I lost mine and I need to call my mom) You grabbed your phone in your bag. “네, 천천히 하다 !” (take your time) You smiled at her. When the young girl went a little bit far away from you to get her privacy, Hongjoong stared at you. “Why you never told me you could talk in Korean?” You tilted your head, “I guess that it’s something you ignored about me.” “왜 우리는 항상 영어로 말해요?” (Why do we always speak in English?) “Because I love hearing your English accent.” You winked. “And can you only speak in Korean or English?” “I can speak more than 10 languages.” You declared. “10?” he shouted, making people staring at you. “Are you serious?!” “Yes, but it’s not a big deal.” The schoolgirl came back and handed your phone before bowing politely at you. “감사합니다!” (Thank you) “천만에요! 지금 집에 가요!” (You’re welcome. Now go home!) “I can’t believe it…” claimed Hongjoong when the girl left. “There’s so many things you ignore about me finally.” You smiled, grabbing his scarf to kiss his cheek.

SEONGHWA (French)

“Wow… a French restaurant.” You said, looking at the brand name. “Yes, it’s a new one. I thought it would be cool to eat here.” Added Seonghwa, arm wrapped around your shoulders. “That’s a really good idea sweetheart.” “Let’s go then,” he pulled you inside. It was a fancy restaurant. A waiter came instantly to guide you to a table. “We are going to spend all of our salary here.” You giggled. “But you worth it.” Seonghwa glanced at you, to see your disgusted face, as always when he says something kitschy. “Then I’m going to order the most expensive things,” you claimed. You couldn’t see it but Seonghwa was probably scared for his wallet. “Sure… sure, go ahead.” He gulped. You held his hand on the table, “I’m kidding Hwa. Relax.” “Why are you calling me Hwa and not Seong?” He suddenly asked. “Because… you are “Hwa-ouh”!” Your boyfriend looked at you without saying anything. A big silence settled between both of you after this bad joke. Seonghwa puffed at you. He couldn’t resist any longer. “That was SO bad! You are such a clown,” he laughed at you. Before you could answer, a man who looked like the boss or the owner of this restaurant came to your table. “Bonjour!” He greeted both of you. Seonghwa bowed a bit, understanding what he just said thanks to his previous concert in France. “Bonjour,” you replied. “Oh! You can speak French?” asked the man. “Un petit peu, (a little bit)” you said in a perfect accent. “Vous avez l’air d’être une experte en français !” (You seem to be an expert in French) “Je fais de mon mieux!” (I do my best) “Très bien.” (good) “Je venais voir si tout allait bien.” (I came to check if everything was okay). “Tout va bien, merci beaucoup !” (Everything’s fine, thank you so much) When the boss went to see another table, Seonghwa coughed to get your attention. “Yes?” “You can’t talk in French?!” “Oui monsieur.” (Yes mister) “I just understood ‘yes’ but this sounds so sexy!” “I can talk more languages, but French is one of my favorites.” “Interesting… but continue to talk in French tonight.” He bit his lip. “Hum… Je m’appelle Y/N, enchantée.” (My name his Y/N, nice to meet you) “I love it…” he whispered. “Okay I’ll stop there before it’s going too far.” You laughed. “Again! Please! Just a last one!” He begged.

YUNHO (Spanish)

“What’s the name of Canada’s capital? Ottawa or Toronto?” Yunho plopped down next to you, on the couch. “Are you watching this TV show again?” “It’s fun.”  You replied. “I should participate. I think I could win.” “You?” Laughed Yunho. “You and ‘win’? In the same sentence?” You threw a pillow at him, “you are so mean!” Yunho grabbed your legs to put it on his laps. “I don’t think I would win though,” he added. “Few questions are really hard but not impossible.” “How the main character in Big Bang Theory is called? Sheldon or Stuart?” Asked the MC. “Sheldon!” you shouted at the TV. “Are you sure?” questioned your boyfriend. “Oh, you replied Stuart, but the right answer was Sheldon,” announced the MC. You looked proudly at your boyfriend. “Yes, I’m sure.” “Look at her being so modest.” He tickled your toes. “How to say, ‘come to eat’ in Spanish?” asked the MC. “This one is hard.” Said Yunho. “Vamos a comer.” You replied easily. “Good answer!” “How do you know that?” Asked Yunho, completely shook. You smirked at your boyfriend. “You ignore that I can talk few languages. Spanish included.” “Really? Why you never told me!” “It’s funnier to see your face.” You stuck your tongue out at him. “You are so evil,” he smirked. “Pero… te gusta.” (but you love it) The look on his face made you bust in laughter. “Si pudiedas ver a tu cara, es muy divertido.” (If you could see your face! It’s so funny) “I don’t understand anything!” He whined. “Lo sé. Es muy gracioso.” (I know, and it’s so funny) “At least, I know where we are going for our summer holiday.” “In Spain?” You asked. “Es une buena idea.” (It’s a good idea) Yunho pocked your tights and belly. “What are you doing?” you giggled. “I’m trying to turn off the Spanish mode.” “Okay okay I stop.” “Thank you! Finally, I’ll understand you.” He smiled. “Should I talk in Chinese then? “Wait what-”

YEOSANG (Dutch)

“Is there a movie you want to watch?” You asked slipping under the sheets. “Black Panther!” Shouted Yeosang. “Again? We watched it 2 days ago?” “But you are always on your phone,” he raised a brow. “You probably watched 20 minutes of the entire movie.” “Okay touché.” You rolled your eyes. “We can watch something else if you put your phone away.” “Okay then let’s go watch Pocahontas.” You smiled widely. “I’m already regretting my words…” he sighed. As promised, you let your phone on the nightstand and cuddled with Yeosang. Just when Pocahontas was about to meet John Smith, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. At first, you just said that you were to call this person back tomorrow. It was pretty late anyway. “You should pick up. Maybe it’s important.” “But you said, ‘no phone’.” “Yes, but it’s a call, so you can have it.” He kissed your cheek. “Okay, I’ll make it quick.” You grabbed your phone and called the unknown number back. “Hello?” you said. “Oh! Nia, het is lang geleden!” (It’s been a long time) Yeosang looked at you. He wasn’t expecting you to speak another language. “Het is zo leuk on nieuws van je te hebben !” (It’s so good to have news from you) “Which language are you speaking?” Whispered your boyfriend. You made a sign to shush him down because you couldn’t hear your friend anymore. “Wanner kom je naar Zuid-Korea?” (When are you coming to South-Korea?) “Korea?” he repeated. “What are you talking about?” “1 minut Nia!” (1 minute Nia), you said before ending the call. “What do you want Yeosang?” “Which language are you speaking and with who?” “It’s dutch and I’m talking, or at least trying to,” you mentioned that he was distracting you from your call. “With Nia, my Dutch friend!” “Why you never told me you could speak Dutch?” “You never asked me! Now shh!” You put your phone against your ear again. “Waar hadden we het ook al weer over?” (What were we talking about?) “I can’t believe it…” he said, sliding on the mattress.

SAN (Japanese)

“Argh Japanese is so hard!” Growled San, bumping his head on the desk. You entered his studio, “are you okay babe? I heard a loud noise.” San turned around on his chair, a pout on his face. He opened his arms widely, making you understand to give him a hug. “What’s happening babe?” You put down your cup of hot chocolate on his desk. “I can’t write lyrics…” he pouted. You sat on his laps, wrapping your arm around his neck. “You are always doing pretty good with lyrics, San. You shouldn’t even doubt about it. Okay?” “I’m doing pretty good with Korean lyrics.” He rested his head on your shoulder. “I don’t get it,” you raised an eyebrow. “It’s not a Korean song?” San shook his head, “it’s for a Japanese comeback.” He pointed at the sheet of paper behind him. “I’m pretty sure you are dramatizing.” “This is terrible, I can’t send this to Hongjoong Hyung.” “Let me see…” you whispered, grabbing the paper. “The lyrics are in Japanese, you won’t-“ “Konna hazu ja nai yo, yoku yatteru tte itte yo, I wanna grow up, susumitai motto*..” you read easily. “Understand…” he finished, surprised. “Yumemita basho oh oh tōku, yukkuri de mo ī, samayowanai yō tonight*...” “How can you read it so easily?” You smiled at him, “probably because I can speak Japanese.” “Really?!” His eyes opened widely. Ready to go out of his eyeballs. “Yes silly,” you flicked his forehead.” And I can say that your verse is pretty good. As always.” He ripped the paper of you hand, throwing it on the floor. “Screw the lyrics! Tell me more about how you learned Japanese!” “Hum… I learned by my own in high school then I went for 6 months in Japan.” “Why you never told me about that?” he asked, almost upset. “You are a whole ass idol, it’s nothing compared to 6 months in Japan or to speak a bunch of languages.” “Wait,” he stopped you. “Firstly, this is not true and secondly… a bunch of languages?!” “Yes? I can speak more languages than you think,” you smirked proudly. San blinked dumbly, not believing the current situation. “Anyway… just focus on your work. Baka.” (Idiot) You stuck your tongue out at him and almost ran away, hoping that he didn’t understand what you said. “Hey! I know it’s an insult! I watch Naruto with Yeosang-Hyung!” He shouted, following you.

*Lyrics from their Japanese song: Better.

MINGI (Portuguese)

“How cute you are!” Giggled Mingi, pinching your cheeks playfully. You wanted to try your new peach make up palette. At first, you thought it was not really well applied and that you skin color wasn’t matching well but Mingi’s giggles and cute compliment helped you to change your mind. “What did I do to be so lucky? My girlfriend is the prettiest and the cutest of all!” He continued acting like if you were a baby. “Mingi, you’ll ruin the makeup with your big fingers!” You slapped his hand. “But I can’t help it, you’re too cute!” He kissed your entire face. You tried to push him on the couch, but he was definitively glued to you. “Mingi! I need to go. I’m already late!” “Can I come with you?” he asked. “It’s a girl’s night.” You simply replied, making him understand that he was a boy. And that boy wasn’t allowed. “I can tie my hair in a ponytail and wear a skirt.” You couldn’t help but to imagine him like that. “Tempting but no. You are going to stay here.” You grabbed your bag and left your boyfriend in the dorm. But before going out, you stared at him. “O bobo.” (idiot) Mingi thought he was dreaming, or he didn’t hear well what you just said. The next morning, when you came back to the dorm, Mingi was sitting right in front of the door. “Stupid?!” he asked you straight, making you shiver a bit. “Good morning to you too babe,” you raised a brow. Your boyfriend was holding an English/Portuguese dictionary. “You told me “o bobo” before leaving.” “Did you really search the word in a dictionary?” “Yes! Now you are the “o bobo”!” You yawned at your boyfriend, ignoring him “okay… I’m going to sleep. Boa noite or whatever.” (Good night) Mingi rolled his eyes, frustrated again and opened the dictionary. “Since when do you speak Portuguese!” “Not only Portuguese… and since a long time now,” you yawned again. “Not only?” he repeated. “Mingi, I’m tired…” “Wait!” He cut you straight, not letting a chance to hop in your comfy bed. “Which languages are you speaking?” “Too much,” you simply replied, kissing his cheek before heading to his bedroom. “Which dictionary I need to buy then…?” he whispered, completely lost.

WOOYOUNG (Italian)

You threw your coat on the coach next to you. “Finally, home…” you sighed, rubbing your shoulder. “Oh Y/N! You are already home.” Smiled Wooyoung exiting the kitchen. “Yes… but today was so exhausting,” you complained. “Really? Maybe you should take a nap. I just started to cook.” He came behind you to gently massage your shoulders. “I would like to rest a bit, but I prefer to watch you doing all of your cooking and stuff.” You replied, enjoying the little message session. “Okay then! So today I will cook Strolombolani-” he started. “Stromboli*.” You rectified. “Huh?” “You said ‘Strombolani”, the real name is Stromboli.” “How do you even know that?” he asked, tightening his apron. “Because I know it.” You sat on the counter, apple juice in the hand. “Do I need to remind you that I spent almost a year in Italy so I enjoyed these incredible recipes.” Wooyoung dropped the spatula he was holding when he heard your comment. “You what?” “What? I already told you that I went to Italy before going to Korea.” “Yes, but you never mentioned that you went there for almost a year,” he almost shouted. “Calmati,” (calm down) you giggled. Wooyoung blinked, his brain trying to process what you just said. “What did you say?” “Just focus on our meal! I’m hungry!” You whined, rubbing your belly. “Come on! Just talk to me in Italian! I love it!” He walked in front of you. “Cucina così non avrò bisogno di ucciderti e mangiarti.” (Just cook so I won’t need to kill and eat you) “You said a lovely thing huh?” he winked. “Yes sure,” you nodded, as if you didn’t threat his life. “Another one!” he asked you. “Just cook Wooyoung!” you sighed, rolling your eyes. “Just something! Please!” He whined, pouting at you. “Se non mangio il mio pasto entro 30 minuti, sarai la prima cosa che mangerò.” (If I don’t have my meal in 30 minutes, you’ll be the first thing I will eat) “Grrr,” he smirked. “This is something hot right?” “Totally.” You lied again. “Again!” “I just want to eat…” you whispered, annoyed.

*Stromboli: an Italian is a type of turnover filled with various Italian cheeses (typically mozzarella) and cold cuts (salami, capocollo and bresaola) or vegetables. The dough used is either Italian bread dough or pizza dough. Stromboli was invented by Italian-Americans in the United States.

JONGHO (German)

“Ich bin Jongho, schön dich zu treffen!” (I’m Jongho, nice to meet you) You stopped right in front of Jongho’s bedroom door. “Danke, dass Sie gekommen sind-” he paused. (Thanks for coming) You stuck your ear on the door. “Kommen zu-’ he stuttered. (Coming to-) You cracked the door quietly and glanced at your boyfriend who was laying on his bed. His head was almost buried in the book he was reading. “Are you okay Jongho?” you asked. “Yes, why?” he sat correctly on the bed, smiling at you. “Do you need something?” “No. I just heard you talking alone. I was curious to know what’s going on.” He patted the spot next to him, making you understand that you needed to sit here. “I need to practice few sentences in German for the world tour.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and delicately kissed your forehead. “I’m sure you are doing good.” You grabbed the book off his hands. “My accent is terrible,” he chuckled. “Okay practice with me,” you closed the book and stared at Jongho. “You can’t even talk in German,” he giggled. “Oh really?” You grunted. “Hallo, mein name ist Y/N.” “Did you just say, ‘hello my name is Y/N’?” “Exact,” you smiled proudly. “You never told me you could speak German,” he smiled. “I can speak more languages than that, but German is one of my favorites.” “Really?” You nodded, “Deutsch ist wirklich hübsch, ich mag es.” (German is really pretty, I like it) “I like to hear you talking German. Even if I don’t understand anything.” He said shyly. “Übe, damit wir gemeinsam auf Deutsch sprechen können.” (Practice so we can talk in German together) Jongho smiled at you, “I don’t understand, but yes please.” “Yes please?” You laughed. “Yeah! I don’t know a word you said but I’ll do everything you want if you continue to talk German!” “Silly,” you giggled, punching his arm. “Only with my German teacher,” he smirked. “Du bist so anhänglich!” (You are so clingy) “Teach me more please,” he grabbed your chin to kiss you.

[twst-headcanon]

Hii 🙃 May I request some headcanons for Ace, Deuce, Idia, Malleus and Leona with a s/o who loves stuffed animals and takes them everywhere?If it’s possible could you do a bonus reactions when their s/o uses the plushie to kiss them? Make it as fluffy as possible please >//< By the way I love your writing 💕

Heeyyyyyy !! So here is (finally !) the answer for your request ! Mod Amy helped me writing this I hope it’ll meet your needs !! It was fun to write and I might have get overboard at moments tehee~~~. Also thank you for your kind words, it makes us more confident and fired up !! Anyway enjoy reading !! ~Mod Ebi

Warning: Sweetness overload (or so I think), if you get cavities we won’t be responsible for it !!

S/O who loves stuffed animal and takes it anywhere.

Ace:

Well he was surprised at first. « Eh ? A stuffed dog ? Isn’t that a bit childish ? » Ace for the love of whoever you want please think before speaking. And the moment he saw their tense face, he immediately told himself « oh shit I fucked up » yes you did.

Poor boy felt really bad and apologies but the more time he spend with the plushie, the more he grew attached to it. “I’ve only had this smol cutie for a day and half. But if anything happened to him, I would kill everyone in this school and then myself.” They even became besties. « If it wasn’t already yours, I would have already adopt this ball of floff. » Sorry Deuce, your spot was taken.

Ace wouldn’t ever admit it but it brings him comfort to hug it when he sleeps during class using it like a pillow. It’s a wonder how the teachers never scold him about that.

And because he likes to hold it, he uses Grim as an excuse « You already have to hold Grim, let me hold my little puppy ! » and thus, he carries it around on his shoulder -No worries he won’t let it fall when if his life is at stake.-

If you use the plush to kiss him, he’ll give the dog many smooch back ! Until he sees his love a bit envious, that’s when he drown them in kisses too !!

Deuce:

What a cute bunny !! Does it have a name ? For how long did you have it ? He decided that from now on, he’ll to hold it his heart ! It’s just so lovely ! Like them !!

However his lover might not mind the way people talks about them carrying a stuffed animal but he does. He tried to warn them threaten them gently not to, but it didn’t work. What could he do to show some support...

OH !💡! He just got an awesome idea !!

A few days later when Deuce comes to his lover, he shows them a package. “Look at what my mother send me !” It was an old hare plushie. “This was mine when I was still an infant. I asked her to send it back to me. That way not only we match but your plushie won’t be alone anymore !”

Because he thinks his lover and their plushie are alike, he tried to sew a spade pattern under the eye of his hare (at the same place he have his.) Unfortunately he can’t sew for shit and had to ask help from Trey.

Once they use the bunny to kiss Deuce, and he asked he in return “A kiss ? I see then who would you a kiss back from ? Me or my hare ?” Ask for both and both you’ll received !!!

Leona:

At first he didn’t care that much about it. As long as they didn’t ask him to carry this lion plushie, our favorite lion shouldn’t have be bothered about it. Shouldn’t have.

Aha well too bad for him, because a big surprise he never thought would ever happened hit him in the guts.

This plushie was ☆*:.｡ everywhere ｡.:*☆.

During class sitting between him and his chosen one while they brush it.

During lunch “No Leona I won’t feed you, what if I stain my plushie ?”.

During your napping quality time, cuddling the stuffed animal instead of him.

... This has to be a joke. Who’s the boyfriend here ? Leona Kingscholar or that damn plushie ?!

No, wait a minute l! There is NO way his pride would let him to be envious of a fake lion ?!!?!?

BUT THEN HE SAW IT. His lover. Kissing. The toy.

OK THAT’S IT. LEONA HAS ENOUGH.

“Oi ! Stop that right now.” Leona ? What is it why do you look so upset ? “Put this damn plush down. Why do you keep pamper this thing more than me ?”

“... Leona. Love. Are, are you jealous ?” “Haa ?! Of course not what makes you think so ?”

He totally is. You can hear Ruggie wheeze in the background.

“*chuckle* Oh Leona if you were envious you could have say so ! I guess I’ll just have to correct that.” FINALLY.

But the only thing they managed to do, is make the smaller lion kiss him.

“Grrr you got this all wrong. Let me show you what I meant earlier.” And Leona swept them off their feet to kiss them like there is no tomorrow.

Idia:

*Gaaasssp* A STUFFED CAT ! IT LOOKS SO FLUFFY !!!!! HNNNN HIS HEART IS SOFT. Can he hold it too ? Can he pet it ??

He is totally on board with his lover carrying a plushie around. Usually cats flee before him, thanks to it he could try and train how to interact with felines !

Oh ! Maybe he should also tell how admirative he is of them ! Idia is aware that people can be mean, and for his lover to hold always with them without minding other’s thoughts ! How could he not fall even deeper in love ?

Now, your plushie have two person gushing and pampering it ! And when Ortho saw you he couldn’t help but to say : « You looks so cute together !! Like a family !!! If Idia is the father and you the other parent, does that mean I am « ojitan » ? »

Idia.exe has stopped working. ORTHO COULD YOU PLEASE NOT BROKE YOUR BROTHER LIKE THAT ??? HE IS BLUSHING SO MUCH HE LOOKS LIKE OVERHEATED.

-Not that any of you mind that, rather his comments made the both of you really happy-

If they use the plushie to kiss him, Idia will at first blush hard -his hair might as well turn a bit red- but he’ll use the plushie to kiss them back *indirect kiss !!!!!*

If he feels more bold, Idia would even turn it to a snuggle session and kiss them on their head and lips.

Malleus:

He might not show it, but Malleus found that little bat plushie extremely cute ! Unlike some he understands that you like to carry it around, regardless of if it’s a memory, if it helps you relax or even if there is no reason.

If anyone dares to make a bad comment about it, he’ll make sure remember their face. -But let’s face it who would dare to do it knowing that Malleus is their boyfriend.-

In a way to support you, he presents you his tamagotchi !! “Now like this, we know each other’s friends. They could even be friend don’t you think ?”

If you ever need it, Malleus would hold your stuffed bat for you (like if you need to go to the bathroom or whatever.)

During time like this, while you are not aware or watching, he’ll groom and talk softly to it, admiring it like he admire gargoyles.

“My friend I have a request. Please for the times I am not around, could you protect them for me ? Here is a little charm that would guard you if anything happen. I’ll count on you.”

If they use the plushie to kiss Malleus, he’ll chuckle and gently kiss you back. “Fufu did you perhaps wanted to start a Chinese whisper game ? Every loving gesture, I’ll lavish it a hundred times more back to you.”

((So I am not sure about the name “Chinese whisper game”, it’s called “téléphone arabe” in french but I’m not sure if I got the right translation here.))

[sideblog-666-thousand]

Euronymous Interview in Decibel of Death, ‘87. English Translation. Ft. Euronymous’ depraved torture fantasies involving Coca-Cola.

‘Decibel of Death’ was a French fanzine from the 80s. It’s first issue was released in ‘86, and by the summer of ‘87, it switched over from French to English-language. This has been my favourite interview of Euronymous for a long time now, so I decided I’d translate it to English so that other, non-francophone, people could enjoy it too. This issue in particular is from February of ‘87, and was their fourth issue overall.

I’ll add a link to where you can find this, and other D.O.D scans, below. If anybody wants me to translate more French, or Russian, interviews, feel free to PM me.

Note: NDLR is the editor’s notes. Any commentary or context by me will be in bold and in parenthesis, so feel free to totally ignore it. If something is between “« »” it’s because it was already written in English to begin with.

Disclaimer: if some of the sentences sound like the energizer bunny is hooked on an iv rig full of pure meth, don’t blame me, I did my best. Take it up with Euronymous himself. Also, I’m not excusing Euronymous’ poor behaviour, I’m just saying his poor behaviour is kind of entertaining.

Without further ado...

D.O.D: And once again, here’s Norwegian Mayhem. If you remember, we presented them to you back in the May issue of D.O.D. Since then, they released a new demo titled “Death Crush”!! Because of this event, we decided to ask the guitarist of this rather sinister band a few questions.

D.O.D: Okay, there’s been more than a few line-up changes in Mayhem. Can you tell us what the current one is?

Euro: Alright, there’s me on guitars, Manheim on battery, Necro-butcher on drums, and our session vocalist, Maniac.

D.O.D:  And what is the medium age of the group?

Euro: We are all 18 years old.

D.O.D: How long has Mayhem been around for?

Euro: Mayhem has been around since August of ‘84 with this line-up, before that, I played in another shitty metal group that was also called Mayhem. The other members also played in a crappy band before we all met.

D.O.D: How would you describe your music?

Euro: Ah, well, it’s like a wall of sound played at extreme speed all mixed with the sound of a chainsaw!!

D.O.D: In your opinion, who are the biggest posers on this planet?

Euro: That definitely has to be the Swedish group ‘Europe’. «Fuck them!!» I hate this band!!

D.O.D: Ha ha, what would you like to do to make them suffer?

(This is the exact moment where the interviewers realize that Euronymous is literally fucking insane. The editor censors some of the things Euronymous says because he has a very vulgar manner of speaking, so, brace yourselves. To make it abundantly clear— I didn’t censor any of this, if it was me, I’d let him continue swearing ‘til next year if he wanted to. Take it up with D.O.D!)

Euro: First of all, I’d cut them and make them eat their own (bleep)!! Then, I’ll fuck them in the ass with an empty bottle of Coke, and if they’re still alive somehow, I’ll drown them in their own piss!! (NDLR: I’d do the same to a few guys in Germany and Switzerland!!) But all of this is reserved for their guitarist, drummer and bassist, I have a far crueler torture for their singer, for him, I’m simply going to break his mirror and steal his perfume!! Haaaaafuckinghah!!! (NDLR: ahahahaha, this is so much fun!!)

D.O.D: Okay, Euronymous, onto more serious topics, who composes the most in Mayhem?

Euro: It’s me and Necro, but sometimes Manheim comes up with good riffs, he actually wrote most of P.F.A (Pure Fucking Armageddon)

D.O.D: I believe thrashers reacted pretty well to your first demo, right?

Euro: Despite the zero sound of this demo. It's true that it's actually the hardcore thrashers that appreciated it, although it was the others hating it that gave us an enormous promotion like with 'Metal Forces'.

D.O.D: Has there been groups that have influenced you?

Euro: Of course, early Venom has really inspired us, although we don’t sound like them in any way. We’re also influenced by bands like Hellhammer and Sodom.

D.O.D: Mayhem is a common band name, what do you think of other Mayhem (such as NYC Mayhem, Mayhem (WC), Mayhem (Oregon))?

Euro: NYC Mayhem* are excellent, I adore them! (NDLR: me too!!) and they call themselves NYC Mayhem. But as for the other Mayhems, they stink, «fuckin’ shit»,  like the Mayhem that’s on Metal Massacre VI*, they really stink, their music isn’t destructive like ours is at all, they don’t deserve this name, I hate them!!

D.O.D: I heard you guys played a show, how did that go?

Euro: It was really «cool», it was at a small rock festival that had around 3-400 «discofucks» (NDLR: this is the censored translation) and when we went on stage with our first session vocalist “Messiah”, we broke a bass over their mouths!! We gave these idiots hell!! Ha ha!! (I’ll link the show he’s referring to below)

D.O.D: And how did your other gigs go?

Euro: For now this has been our only show!! And we don’t know how the crowds will react at the prospect of future gigs.

D.O.D: Fair. Since we’re talking about future gigs, what will those be like?

Euro: They’ll be full of occult things, we’ll play in complete darkness and there’ll be red blood spots, chandeliers, smoke, and pig heads on stakes, it’ll be totally thrashing!!

D.O.D: How’s the Norwegian thrash scene? It’s pretty dull, no?

Euro: Right now, «it sucks», there’s no audience, but it seems to be going in the right direction with bands like Vomit*, Septic Cunts, Decay Lust, and Flowers in The Dustbin.

D.O.D: And what kind of things are your lyrics about?

Euro: depravity, like tearing someone’s (bleep), eating worms, and all those fine things!!

D.O.D: What are your favourite bands?

Euro: Really hard question, there’s so many good bands coming out but I think the bands I like the most are old Venom, Deathchamber, Sodom, Necrophagia, Destruction, Death, Kreator, Poison. (No, not THAT Poison)

D.O.D: Do you ever listen to hardcore?

Euro: «Yeah» I like Chaotic Discord, Septic Death, UK Subs, and others. It hasn’t been that long since I went to see Disorder and it was awesome!!

D.O.D: Are you considering going on tour?

Euro: No, not exactly. But soon we’ll play at a Norwegian thrash festival. We’ll also play at a thrash festival in Copenhagen, and probably do a few shows with Kreator/Necrophagia in ‘87.

(No, this isn’t a typo on my end, it actually says ‘87. There’s two reasons why this might be the case. One, it could be an error on the part of the editor, who deserves an interview of his own, or two, it could be an error by Euronymous himself since the interview might have been conducted in January. Euronymous could have mixed the years up as one sometimes does. However, ‘Death Crush’, the demo, actually came out in March of ‘87. What the interviewer and Euronymous are referring to as ‘Death Crush’ is likely ‘Death Rehearsal’, which is exactly what it sounds like, and was taped back January of ‘87.)

D.O.D: I heard you guys are recording a new demo, is it ready?

Euro: We just entered the studio to record the second “Death Crush” demo, but at the moment, we only have three songs. I’m also unsure of whether or not we’ll have enough money to record anything else, and the vocals still haven’t been put to music!!

D.O.D: There’s some rumours that you guys were contacted by certain record labels, is this true?

Euro: It’s true, we got a letter from Axe killer records saying that they were interested in us but they never listened to our music and I also sent them our demo tape but I don’t believe we’ll be receiving any letters from them now!!

D.O.D: Do you have anything to add?

Euro: Of course, «fucking ARGHHHH!!»

There, that’s all :)

If you’re interested in some of the asterisks I put in, here they are in order of their appearances:

*Unlike most of the bands Euronymous named in this interview, NYC Mayhem (and later as Straight Ahead) never released more than a few demo. They were a straight edge band from, you guessed it, NYC— Queens to be exact. Despite never releasing a full album, their sound inspired some grindcore and death metal bands, notably Carcass. They were also straight edge, which makes Euronymous’ mental breakdown over the Mayhem that was on Metal Massacre very, very ironic. Especially considering he was pretty straight edge himself, especially back in 1987– outside of maybe smoking some pot.

Here is their 1985 demo, https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=t-3geR1JbY4

*Metal Massacre is a series of compilation albums starting in 1982, released by Metal Blade records. Typically, these were independent and unsigned bands. Some notable ones include Metallica on the first edition with ‘Hit the lights’. Slayer in ‘83 with ‘Aggressive Perfector’. The ‘84 edition had Voivod, Overkill, and Hellhammer.

The one which Euronymous is referring to, however, is the one from ‘85. Here it is, the timestamp is 14:19 https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=HqwfsLvLvuY

It’s really not that bad— certainly not worth the double exclamation points.

*If you don’t know who Vomit are, you must not know much about early Mayhem. They were another thrash band who shared rehearsal space with Mayhem. Torben Grue and Kittil Kittilsen (what a sad fucking name) were also ‘in’ Mayhem at some point. Kittil once shaved off his eyebrow, but I don’t know why. Here is a picture of the dork:

The show Euronymous is talking about: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=mjay2Lmj9C8 yes, this is the show where Euronymous flashes his ass. I think it’s funny because he talks big but he seemed very hesitant to do it, and practically ducked backstage afterwards. Necro, on the other hand, was very proud to have broken his bass.

Well, that’s all I have. If you read this far, I hope you enjoyed the additional notes I left. Outside of a few more interviews of Mayhem, I also have a few obscure Emperor interviews that were posted to the internet in late 90s. There’s an especially funny one where Faust is allowed to interview Ihsahn and Samoth from prison. He’s sarcastic the entire time, refers to the readers as ‘morons’ and proclaims everyone should all die in a nuclear war with the same energy you cross yourself with. Overall, it’s a funny read. I also have one where he interviews Varg, and Euronymous (separately) for his own ‘zine back in the early 90s. Actually— I have A LOT of interviews of Faust for some reason, including two where he’s actually on camera. I might post them if I feel like it, or if somebody wants them. Is anyone here an especially big fan of Faust?

Last but not least, here is the link to the ‘zine:

http://france.metal.museum.free.fr/revues/fanzines/decibel_of_death/04/page_03.htm

[flying-elliska]

one of the most impactful things I have read lately are two of French author Edouard Louis' books, Pour en finir avec Eddy Bellegueule and Qui a tué mon père (translated into English as The End of Eddy and Who Killed my Father). It's been two months and I'm still thinking about it.

The first book is an 'autobiographical novel' about the author's childhood growing up as an obviously gay boy in one of the poorest areas of France, until he leaves and reinvents himself as a writer. It's fraught with bigotry, abuse, bullying, violence, deprivation and social despair, and it's one of the most harrowing things I have ever read. It reads as many things as once : a recognition of trauma, an angry exorcism, a cry for society at large to pay attention, and to be honest, as a horror story.

It was criticized by some in France as portraying the working class in a manner that was too negative, which tells me they missed the point entirely...ironic for a book by someone who actually grew up poor - one of my least favorite things ever is progressives telling a marginalized person they can't talk about their own experiences because they don't fit the desired mold. (The French love to romanticize the working class and I'm pretty sure it's often an avoidance mechanism.)

The point of the book is so obviously not about 'look at how terrible and bigoted those poor people are'. Little Eddy spends a big part of the narrative trying to escape - himself at first, then his family/circumstances and the persistent homophobia everywhere. In the end of the book, he finally manages to get accepted into a fancy high school in the city on a scholarship and tries really hard to fit in. The last scene of the book is a bunch of his - educated, upper/middle class - classmates throwing homophobic taunts at him, starting the cycle anew. I can't think of a clearer way to say 'this is not a story about a sad gay boy escaping the evil bigoted countryside for the city and then everything was wonderful!!!! this is a story about a systemic, pervasive problem.'

One of the key arguments of the book, to me, is how homophobia, sexism and bigotry in general are both a product and a reproduction mechanism of social and economic exclusion. For instance, he describes how the norms around what it means to be a man in his village (being tough, disobeying authority, quitting school early to go work at the factory, drinking alcohol, neglecting your own health, fighting over women, repressing your feelings, etc) perpetuates the cycle of poverty ; but again this isn't 'oh these people are so stupid' and more 'these people are trapped'. Because he makes it evident how degrading and dehumanizing poverty can be, this masculinity reads as a desperate attempt to cling to a certain amount of dignity - it's an extremely dysfunctional coping mechanism. At the same time, anyone falling outside of the mold is violently ostracized (like Eddy, who tries and fails to fit in). So the system keeps reproducing itself.

In Who Killed my Father, the author makes his political argument clearer. This is more of an essay, centering on his father, arguably the most complex figure in the first novel. The man is an angry, bigoted alcoholic who makes his family miserable ; at the same time he is the son of an abusive father who makes a point of honor to never hit his kids or wife even though it's very normalized in this context. In this essay the author keeps talking about the moments of almost tenderness with his father that haunt him, the picture he has of him doing drag in his youth, the fact that the father tried to leave the village when he was young to find a better life for himself with a close friend but failed and had to come back - the moments of what-ifs, of trying to struggle free from the cycle, when the system appears almost fragile and not so unbreakable after all, that the son kept holding close like a sort of talisman.

The narrative is structured around the fact that his father injured his back working in a factory and that he had to keep doing physical labor afterwards for money, instead of resting to recover, until it completely destroyed his body. Now he finds himself bed-bound at 53. Louis inquires into who is responsible for this premature 'death'. After considering individual choices, he turns towards political decisions - the successive governments, left and right, who have been destroying the French welfare system for decades and accelerating inequality. The point is to step out of the neoliberal obsession with personal responsibility and who is guilty and who is a bad or good person, and look at systems.

An element that isn't focused on but hovers over the story constantly is that this village is one where the majority of the population consistently votes for the extreme right National Front party in most elections. The book is too angry and nuanced to be some stupid "it's not their fault that they're racist because they're poor!" argument. It doesn't make any excuses for how awful this is but instead illustrates how dehumanization replicates itself, how people being denied basic dignity leads to them wanting to deny it to others. If you want to really understand the rise of the far right you have to look at where the inequality comes from in the first place, and how easy it is for people in power to wash their hands of it by blaming the bigoted masses. (Just like you can blame societal ills on minorities ! Two for one strategy.)

Towards the end of the essay, the author talks about how proud his father is of his son's literary success - for a book who clearly depicts him as a horrible person ! And this is a man who has spent his life openly despising anything cultural, because it never showed him a life like his own. But maybe now he feels seen, now he knows people want to read about these things. Maybe there is a reclamation of dignity through looking at the horror head on. Maybe his son somehow slipping through the cracks of the cycle gives him more room. The man stops making racist comments, and instead asks his son about his boyfriend. Most importantly, he asks his son about the leftist politics he's engaged in. They talk about the need for a revolution.

I think what strikes me the most is this attitude of "wounded compassion" that permeates the book. What do you do when your parents are abusive but even after you grow up, you can't help but still love them, and you know they've been shaped by the system that surrounds them ? Recognizing, speaking the harm is essential. You need to find your own freedom, sense of worth, and safety. You need to dissect the mechanisms at hand so they lose at least some of their power over you. You need to find people who love and believe you. But then what? Do you dismiss your persistent feelings of affection and care for those who hurt you as a sign you're just fucked up in the head ? You could just decide to never speak to them again, and it would be justified, but is that really what is going to heal you the most? It's important to realize you have the choice. But there are no easy conclusions.

This makes me think of a passage I have just read in Aversive Democracy by Aletta Norval. The essential ethos of radical democracy, she says, is about taking responsibility for your society, even the bad parts, instead of seeing them as a foreign element you have to cleanse yourself of. It's too fucking easy for queer progressives, especially the middle class urban kind, to talk about dumb evil hicks, to turn pride into a simple morality tale, and forget that any politics that don't center the basic dignity and needs of people are just shit. The injury is to you and by you and you have a duty of care just as much as a duty of criticism. (And this is obviously not only applicable to class matters.) You can't just walk away and save your sense of moral purity. (This is not an argument that the oppressed are responsible for educating the oppressors ; it's about how privilege is not an easy simple ranking and it is too damn easy to only focus on the ways in which you are oppressed and forget the ways in which you may have more leeway.)

There is no absolute equivalence between political and family dynamics but the parallel feel very relevant somehow. Several truths can coexist at once : you needed help and it was not given. You were let down. It's important to recognize that people are responsible of how they treat each other. You need to call out what isn't ok and stand up for yourself. At the same time, there is a reason why things are like this. Making people into villains is often bad strategy (within reason!), and in the end, easy dichotomies are often an instrument of power. The horrors you have been through might have given you a very specific wisdom and grace you do not have to be afraid of ; you are not tainted by your compassion (it is very much the opposite of forced forgiveness ; it has walked through the fire of truth.)

To me these books fit into what French literature does best, sociological storytelling a la Zola or Victor Hugo - the arguments aren't new and they can come across as heavy handed, even melodramatic. But I'll argue that the viscerality is the point, how the raw experience of misery punches through any clever arguments about how exploitation persists for the greater good of society. Really worth reading if you can do so with nuance.

[yourfinalbow]

"if Destiel wasn't on the cards, why is it Canon" u mean that unrequited love confession from Cas? Lmao. Jensen is literally homophobic yall trying to push him into Destiel ain't for the sake of representation its for the sake of you own little MLM fetish ship. Two straight actors ain't good gay rep. Even if Destiel was requited by Dean. Again, stop being a loser.

Hi! I'm actually glad you came to my ask box, it gives me an excuse to try and clear up some of these misconceptions.

So first of all, we don't technically know if it's unrequited. There is a lot of tinhatting involved in Destiel shipping, but there is also some solid evidence behind it. I personally believe that Dean returns Castiel’s confession, but didn’t have time to react to it. (I wouldn’t know what to do if my best friend of twelve years told me they made a deal with the Empty, was about to die, loved me, his love for me is the reason he’s about to die, and then continued to tell me that everything I believed about myself is wrong.) Some people also believe that Dean may have thought that if he didn’t say anything, the Empty wouldn’t come. Others believe that he did say something, but it was cut. (Which actually isn’t as far fetched as it sounds, considering scripts are sent to dubbing companies ahead of time and he reciprocated in almost every Latin American dub, as well as in French and Italian. And before you claim that there was a “rogue translator”, I must say that the script and dub has to go through very many heads before it is aired, so practically the entire company would have to be in on it. There are also a lot of strange jump cuts in the scene.) People have their personal headcanons, and you have yours! That’s perfectly fine, though anonymously telling me, and another awesome human being, that I’m a loser for having my headcanon is actually incredibly coward-like, presumptuous, and disrespectful.

So while Dean didn’t tell Cas he loved him in the English version, (Though I don’t know why that’s the only one that matters, considering only 13% of the world speaks it.) That doesn’t mean it’s not canon however, just unconfirmed on one side. (So your previous statement, “Destiel was never on the cards. Lol.”, is both grammatically incorrect and false.)

Your next statement, however, is the one that rubs me the wrong way. Jensen Ackles is not homophobic. I’ll link a few posts below that completely disprove this, but just because you don’t ship a queer ship, doesn’t make you homophobic. There’s also his infamous gay Aunt, and in my experience of homophobic-people-interacting-with-their-gay-family-members, (which is sadly a good enough amount to have a proper viewpoint), they don’t usual act as comfortable and open as Jensen and Aunt Darla, (and her wife!) are with eachother.

-Twitter thread of him being comfortable with queer peeps.

-CW’s “Dare to Defy” Campaign. (This movement is still very important, but the words don't hold as much weight to me personally after seeing what they did in the finale.)

-Tumblr post with Jensen being supportive of queer peeps. (He's even raised money for people in the LGBTQIA+ community anon. A homophobic person does not do that.)

You also have to take into consideration how comfortable he is with his male friends. I’m not saying he himself is apart of the LGBTQIA+ community, but there are countless videos and pictures of him being comfortable with both Jared and Misha, and that’s something homophobic people tend to stay away from. Once again, this doesn’t mean he himself is queer, and obviously people can love each other platonically! But people who are super religious and stead fast against gay people, usually go out of their way to not be seen as gay. And it’s clear it doesn’t bother J2M at all.

Jensen has also, in recent years, made jokes about Destiel. My favorite one is probably the, “Dean has no taste, clearly.” You can find that here because it genuinely makes my day. And if he was truely homophobic, I doubt he would be comfortable with things like this, as well as Jared constantly poking fun at him about both Misha and Destiel. (He would have at least pulled Jared aside privately and asked him nicely not to do that anymore. There are ways of doing this without seeming homophobic, and in reverse, just because he doesn’t want someone to make jokes like that doesn’t make him homophobic.) Third, I personally want Destiel to be canon because A, having two famous and main characters on a long-running Sci-Fi show, that was originally intended to be incredibly heterosexual, come out as queer would be good representation. People need to see that it’s okay to not be straight. Queer people have been oppressed for thousands of years, so being able to see themselves in their favorite show and characters is so powerful. Especially if these characters live long, happy lives together. And I argue that the actors don’t have to be gay themselves to play a gay character. People cross the borders on gender, sex, age, and nationality all the time. Why should sexual orientation be any different? And the B, because it's my otp. Simple as that.

And I don’t speak for the entire Destiel community, just as you don’t speak for the entire community of people who don’t ship them, but I personally don’t fetishize m|m. I actually get no enjoyment out of reading smut, and actively avoid it. I ship them because they have great chemistry, an interesting and often romantic storyline, and they obviously care about each other very much. Their gender has no impact on that. I ship w|w couples, (I actually wish there were more of them, because having my own representation is important to me), as well as heterosexual and nonbinary ones too.

So you can call me a loser anon, and honestly, I’ll embrace it. But I’m not the one coming into people’s ask boxes and hating on them, just because they want to ship two awesome people. I don’t judge you for what you ship, so I ask you return the favor. (But feel free to come talk to me again about anything else.) And since you seem to be having a bad day and taking it out on others, here's a gif for you!

And if anyone wants to respectfully add anything to this post, go ahead!

[notyourdayrdream]

Tan Hands and Tan Lines

Day Three, Side A: Ubiquitous

(read it here on AO3)

Nobody wants to spend their summer vacation working. But spending it with your two best friends wasn’t too bad. So when Mercedes told Rachel and Kurt that there were two openings at the retro fifties diner in downtown Lima, they jumped on the opportunity.

Diner in the Sky started out as a relatively slow job. It had just opened a few months ago and the word hadn’t gotten out to much of the city that it even existed. In those early days, Kurt and his friends spent the afternoons and nights singing through the empty store, twirling on black and white checkered floors. Finn and some of the other New Directions would stop by before the sunset and order milkshakes with fries. He and Rachel would not-so-mysteriously disappear for five or so minutes, and Kurt noticed the way Mercedes and Sam giggled around each other. He eventually cornered her during a graveyard shift, and she admitted that they had been dating in secret since prom. It took two days for Mercedes to win Kurt back, after buying him the new Marc Jacobs piece he had been dreaming about.

It was a cute job with even cuter outfits. Until July fourth came around.

The mayor of Lima stopped by that night and made a big show of it all, forever putting the little diner on the map. The appearance knocked out every ubiquitous fast food joint in town. It’s been packed every night since.

“I need a number five without onions!” Kurt hears Rachel scream into the kitchen, followed by the clanging of a few plates. She storms out a minute later, hair sticking to the sweat on her face.

“I hate this job,” she grumbles to him as she makes her way to another table of hungry customers.

Kurt leans his body weight against the counter. The metal is cool against his skin, a nice distraction from the oppressive summer heat. The bar isn’t nearly as packed tonight as the rest of the restaurant, mostly just little kids ordering heart attack inducing malts and ice cream cones. He’s adjusting the stupid rectangle shaped hat on his hat when he hears the door jingle at nine o’clock on the dot.

Blaine Anderson strolls into the diner with his little private smile, pulling his usual denim jacket off as he goes. He’s humming again, a pop song Kurt notices. Probably Katy Perry. He overheard Blaine tell Rachel she was his most listened to artist last week. Not that he was listening to hear if his name came up in conversation or anything like that. That would be crazy.

They meet eyes for a brief second, hazel to blue. Blaine grins before sliding onto one of the red leather barstools. “Hell again?” His cheeks are flushed pink, but Kurt blames it on the heat.

“Yeah,” Kurt replies, sounding breathier than usual. Blaine has a way of doing that to him. With his funny quirks and ability to make restaurant issued bowties sexy, the Dalton Academy junior has snuck his way into Kurt’s heart from the second he started working with him.

There’s a particularly loud crash in the corner of the building, followed by a baby screaming. Blaine takes a moment to sober himself, eyelashes fanning out on the apple of his cheeks. “I better get to work. I mean, I should get to work.” He’s flailing, adorably so. “I mean, I should check that out.” Blaine stumbles. The back of his neck is red as he walks away.

“Remind me again why you won’t ask him out?” Mercedes says with a poke to Kurt’s shoulder. Her hair is still intact, textured curls bouncing at her shoulders. The only way you’d know she had been working was the ketchup colored stains on her baby blue dress and apron. “He’s obviously into you.”

Kurt’s thought about it so many times, and the answer is that he doesn’t know. Competing schools wasn’t an excuse, it was summer. Besides, the Warblers had been so gracious in their loss at Regionals that they invited the New Directions over for coffee at the Lima Bean.

Truth is, he was scared. He’s never had a boyfriend, let alone asked a boy out or even told one they were handsome. This is still Ohio, and being out and proud has its consequences. He knows Blaine is gay at least, so his crushing isn’t creepy.

It sort of terrifies him to care about someone so deeply. When Blaine came in with red rimmed eyes after his fifteen minute break one night in the middle of June, Kurt sat with him as he ranted about how awful his dad was. He’s the only friend Kurt has that likes to watch old black and white movies for fun. Blaine makes him laugh so hard he cries, and everytime he brushes past Kurt during the busy nights, the spot tingles for until he gets home.

Kurt sighs. “I don’t know.” He rests his head against the edge of the soda machine. “Crushes are so damned difficult.” Mercedes hums in sympathy.

“It’ll work out, boo. Even if Rachel and I have to force the two of you to close together like last time.” He can feel her laugh beside him, and soon he’s laughing too. That was a good night.

“Kurt! ‘Cedes!” Rachel all but screams, turning a few heads. After knowing the girl for two years, he’s convinced she only has two settings: Loud and Louder.

Her face is bright pink and there’s a deep crease between her brows. She’s got her Business Face on. “What’re you two doing? This large party just came in, and you guys are just sitting here! A little help would be appreciated!” She huffs, pumps tapping against the floor as she walks to the back at a dizzying speed.

Kurt and Mercedes share an eye roll before going opposite ways. The party Rachel was talking about is huge, five adults and three kids under ten years old. After finding a table large enough so they’d all be comfortable, he pulls out a notepad and asks what drinks he can get them started with.

An older woman starts speaking in rapid fire Italian, gesturing to the rest of the group, who nod in return. Kurt instantly regrets taking up French instead of literally any other language.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, hoping they could understand. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

A younger man with a beard cocks his head and speaks in an incredibly thick accent. How a family of Italians decided to spend a summer in boring Ohio confuses him. “Could we get another waiter?” He stutters through the sentence, and Kurt feels bad to inconvenience them.

There’s a familiar tingle on his left shoulder. “I can help them,” Blaine whispers, side-stepping him to get closer to the table. He says something to the family, who grin back at him. He has that effect on people.

“You speak Italian?” Kurt hisses. This guy is just full of surprises.

Blaine puts his head down and smiles. He shrugs like everyone in America is fluent in the romantic language. “I spent a few summers in southern Italy with my grandmother when I was younger.” Because of course he did.

“Oh,” Kurt offers lamely. “Okay, well tell them I’m really sorry for any inconvenience.”

Blaine smirks at him and turns to the table. He says something to them, laughing afterwards. Kurt watches behind him, amazed at the way Blaine can make anyone feel so important. Not to mention Italian is such a hot language to hear coming out of his mouth.

A kid who can’t be above twelve pipes up, pointing back to Kurt. The rest of the family looks back at him too.

Kurt pulls at the edge of his crisp button down. They’re looking back and forth between him and Blaine, unnerving him beyond belief. He feels called out and exposed even though he has no idea what’s being said about him. So he just returns a wavering smile and turns to leave and prepares to never show his face again when he hears it.

Amore.

That stops him in his tracks. Love? Kurt’s no language expert, but the word is pretty universal in every one of them. He turns around to ask Blaine for a translation, but to his surprise he’s gone uncharacteristically silent.

Blaine eventually stammers through a reply, hands stuck stiffly at his sides. Kurt hears him murmur, “I’ll be back with your drinks,” before walking into the kitchen as fast as he can. He won’t make eye contact with Kurt the rest of the night.

Diner in the Sky closes at eleven every night, and it takes another thirty minutes on a good day to scrub stains from the tabletops and lock everything up. It’s Kurt’s night to close up. Usually either Rachel or Mercedes is on schedule to help him, but since his luck is just absolute shit, he has to clean up the place with Blaine.

Closing up is usually an intimate job. Just two people, the nostalgia of an old diner, and a jukebox. Depending on who you’re with, it’s either heaven or hell. Kurt’s not sure which one he’ll get tonight. The other two times he’s had to suffer through it with Blaine, it’s been fun. They dirtied dishes making vanilla shakes and doo-wopping along to the jukebox tunes.

Tonight feels like purgatory. Blaine avoids him at any cost. If Kurt goes to mop the kitchen floors, he goes to the front room, and vice versa. He won’t speak to him, or even acknowledge him when he accidentally sweeps Kurt’s feet. It’s fine at first, Kurt can handle the awkwardness. But eventually, it simmers to anger.

“Can I talk to you?” He calls after Blaine. He stops like a kid caught in the cookie jar, hand freezing on the light switch. He turns slowly, eyes as big as saucers.

“Yeah?”

Kurt glares at him for a moment before speaking. “Look, I don’t know what that family said to you, but it gives you no right to be so absolutely rude—”

“They said I looked like I loved you.” It comes out as if it pains him to say.

That sentence makes any anger Kurt has, flow out of him and into a pond on the floor. Love?

He scraps up any dignity he has left and smiles to himself. “Well, do you?”

“Do I what?” Blaine snaps, coming to sit on the stool next to him. His leg trembles on the floor. Kurt can recognize now the little tells he didn’t know he ever noticed; how Blaine presses his thumb and ring finger together when he’s especially nervous, the way his eyes seem to light up when he looks at him.

“Love me?” Kurt continues, heart threatening to beat out of his chest. He wants to hear him say it.

Blaine doesn’t answer, instead opting to bury his head into his hands. Kurt hears him mumble to himself. Something about not the right time and tan messed everything up. His stomach flip flops.

“So,” Kurt drags, tapping the edge of the metal counter. “Love, huh?”

“Shut up,” Blaine mutters. They sit in comfortable silence for a little, until the hum of Ella Fitzgerald fizzles off the record. Then, Kurt feels a warm, almost clammy hand on top of his. It’s enough of an answer for him.

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

If you're still taking prompts you should do some rebuke and hurt/comfort!!

Sorry this took so long, but luckily there's a lot of it!! Hope you enjoy!

This is part of my All Too Well Splinterverse series, so a direct sequel to something about it felt like home somehow, cause there we are again in the middle of the night, and so casually cruel in the name of being honest. It won't make much sense if you haven't read all three of those.

read on ao3 here!

--

Bobby gives it three days. Three days where he catches up on missing homework and takes his antibiotics and a lot of naps and feels like a terrible person. And then he calls Luke.

“I fucked up,” he says the second Mrs. Patterson passes over the phone, without so much as bothering to say hello.

“Whoa, uh, okay,” Luke says, and coughs a little awkwardly. “Did you cheat on me or something? Are we breaking up? Cause if we’re breaking up, you gotta at least give me twenty minutes to get over there; no way in hell am I letting you dump me over the phone.”

“No! What? No.” Bobby’s out in the studio for some privacy; he sits up on the couch and runs a hand through his hair, grips the cordless phone a little tighter. “This has nothing to do with you! I fucked up with Reggie.”

“Reggie?” Luke repeats. “Dude, what’d you do? Kick a puppy or something?”

Bobby lets out a sigh that’s really more of a groan. To be fair, he probably could’ve started this conversation with just a tiny bit of context. “ No. I just… I think I hurt his feelings.”

Luke’s quiet for a really long time, in that thoughtful, pensive way he usually only gets when he’s writing a song. It’s usually accompanied by a lot of bouncing and fidgeting, because Luke gets restless easily, and if he can’t expel energy through his mouth, he’s gotta let it out some other way or he’ll implode. It almost brings a smile to Bobby’s lips, just thinking about it. Finally, Luke says, “Can I come over?”

Despite himself, Bobby’s stomach flips at the question. He and Luke have talked almost every day in the last week or so, but they haven’t actually seen each other in person since Luke got out of the hospital. They’ve both been too sick, and then Luke’s been trying to stay home as much as he can, build some trust back up with his mom.

“I might be contagious still,” Bobby warns him, rubbing absently at his chest. “No fever since the day before yesterday, but I’ve still got this cough I can’t shake.”

Luke scoffs, like he knows just as well as Bobby how lame an excuse that is. “Bro, I’m pretty sure I can’t catch the cold I gave you. If you’re not ready, I get it, but… whatever happened with Reggie, I think it’d be easier if we talk face to face.”

Luke pauses, then adds, “Plus, you know… I really do want to see you.”

Bobby has to swallow past a piercing ray of sunshine shooting through his stomach. “I want to see you, too. Okay, come on over, just know my mom’s probably gonna fuss over you.”

“Yeah, well, the last time she saw me, I was unconscious and dying, so I can’t exactly blame her.”

A smile tugs at Bobby’s lips. He and Luke may have gotten together under the strangest circumstances— and “together” is still sort of a loose term; mostly, they’ve just made out a couple times and Luke gave Bobby bronchitis— but at least they have each other now. More than that, even— they both have their families back.

“Think your mom will be cool?” Bobby checks. “With you coming over, I mean? I know she’s been keeping you on kind of a tight leash. And I don’t think she likes me very much.”

“She’s barely met you,” Luke points out.

“Yeah, and the one time she did, she called me a kidnapper. And something in French that you refuse to translate.”

“Purely for your own good.” Luke’s teasing grin is audible, even over the phone. “Listen, Bobbers, that was an emotional day for us all, and Emily Patterson is hardly well-known for being calm and rational under stressful circumstances. But once I sat her down and explained everything to her, I think the ‘saved me from dying’ thing made up for the ‘hid me in your garage for two months’ thing. She likes you just fine.”

Bobby’s not entirely sure he believes him, but there’s no point in pushing it. “Well, if you need me to come over there instead, just let me know.” He starts to swing his legs off the couch, bending over to search for his shoes, but has to pause to cough into his elbow a few times, his chest twinging.

“Half an hour,” Luke insists. “And drink some tea while you wait for me, I don’t like that you’re still coughing.”

Bobby grumbles noncommittally, lays back down on the couch. “Just get over here, Patterson. I can’t deal with your mother henning over the phone.”

Luke breathes out a laugh, and it might just be the most beautiful sound Bobby’s ever heard. “Love you, too, baby.”

***

Luke hangs up the phone and immediately takes stock of himself.

The last week, living back at home with his mom and dad again, has not been nearly as bad as he thought it would be. Maybe he’s gotten more patient since running away from home. Maybe his parents have gotten a little more perspective. Maybe all three of them just needed a few months apart and a serious wake-up call to start seeing things through each other’s eyes.

Whatever the reason, Luke and his mom haven’t fought once since he moved back home, and his dad even told Luke he’d like to come to one of his shows once Sunset Curve starts playing again. They’ve had to establish a lot of new boundaries, the three of them, and quite a few ground rules— if Luke weren’t sick, he’d be in trouble, his mom said, but she thought his hospital stay and cracked ribs were punishment enough— but so far things have been good. And Luke would very much like to keep them that way.

So, he stands in front of the bathroom mirror and takes a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth. The breath is free of congestion, doesn’t make him cough or hurt his ribs anymore. His face is a little red— purely just because talking to Bobby these days makes him blush like crazy— so he splashes some cool water on his face and waits until the flush fades from his cheeks before he heads out to the living room.

Emily’s sitting on the couch with her knitting, an old episode of The Brady Bunch playing low on the TV. She looks up and smiles when he enters, and Luke’s skin crawls a little. She gets this look on her face sometimes, when she looks at him now. Like she can’t believe how lucky she is. Like she still sort of expects to wake up and find she’s lost him. Again.

It makes Luke feel all sorts of guilty.

“Off the phone?” she asks him, a little redundantly, as he hands over the cordless. “How’s Robert?”

“Bobby’s feeling better,” Luke says honestly. He sticks his thumbs through his belt loops and rocks back and forth on his heels, standing awkwardly in front of the couch. “Can I go to his tonight? Something happened between him and Reggie, I was gonna help him out.”

Emily frowns, but doesn’t outright refuse, or accuse him of lying so that he can go out and play a club or something, like she might have three months ago. Maybe she really does trust him more now, or maybe she just likes Reggie enough to put aside her suspicions, but all she says is, “How are you feeling?”

Luke takes another slow breath, letting her hear how it doesn’t so much as catch in his throat. “No cough, no fever. Ribs only hurt when I get out of breath, but I’ll bike slowly, and we won’t be playing or anything. I’ll leave my guitars here, even.”

He sees it in his mom’s expression— the trust in him, the complete and utter belief she has that he’s telling her the truth. It’s something he might’ve taken advantage of, before. But for the first time in his life, he has absolutely no desire to lie to her.

Emily gently lays her knitting down on the coffee table in front of her and gestures Luke forward, stretching out a hand. He obediently leans down to let her brush his fringe aside and feel his forehead.

She hums approvingly a moment later and lets him go. “Ask your father to drive you. Will you be home for dinner, or are you spending the night?”

“I’m not sure,” Luke says, “but I’ll call around five either way?”

“Perfect.” She gives him that smile again— that look — and Luke turns away before he can think too hard about how much he doesn’t deserve it.

His dad is quiet on the drive over, but he lets Luke fiddle with the radio and kick his feet up on the dashboard, and doesn’t protest when Luke rolls the window up and down every five minutes. He parks the car in Bobby’s driveway, right outside the studio, but doesn’t shut the engine off. Something tells Luke to linger an extra moment or two before getting out.

“You need any money?” Mitch asks, finally.

No, but I’ll take some, Luke would’ve said, before, and then probably blown it on junk food or guitar picks or something. Instead, he shakes his head, leg bouncing, says, “Nah, dad, we’re just gonna be talking.”

Mitch nods and leans forward to peer through the windshield up at the studio. Luke follows his gaze. He can only imagine what his dad must be thinking: So this is where my son was living for two months because he didn’t feel safe at home.

“I’ll call home to let you know when to pick me up,” Luke says, desperate to fill the silence, and reaches for the door handle. “See you later, Dad.”

He catches half a glimpse of his father’s face as he heads up the drive: Mitch looks pensive and sad, and at least twenty years older than he really is.

Luke drags in a breath, and tries not to feel too guilty.

He’s barely rapped his knuckles against the studio door when it’s yanked open from the inside and Luke gets a faceful of t-shirt as Bobby tugs him into a strong-armed hug.

“Hey!” Luke laughs breathlessly. “I missed you, too.”

Bobby presses his face into Luke’s neck, tightening his hold. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, baby.” Luke rubs his back, trying to follow his instincts without getting too self-conscious. He hasn’t seen Bobby in a while, and somehow using pet names and terms of endearment was easier over the phone. Holding him and letting himself be held was easier when he was sick and hurting and had an easy excuse. But he doesn’t want Bobby to think Luke loves him any less, or that Luke’s ashamed of him or something, just because they’re both healthy.

Still. “We should get inside,” he murmurs, lips pressed into Bobby’s hair. “My dad’s kinda sitting in his car watching us, and I can feel him getting uncomfortable.”

Bobby snorts, his shoulders shaking under Luke’s touch. But then he nods and pulls away, swiping the back of his hand across his face; Luke thinks he catches the glisten of tears.

Inside the studio, with the doors shut tight and the sound of Luke’s dad’s car disappearing down the street, Luke sits Bobby down on the couch and says, “So. Reggie.”

Bobby’s quiet as he tells the story, his head ducked low and his hands clasped tightly between his legs. Luke keeps a hand on Bobby’s back, rubbing gentle circles as he listens to Bobby talk.

When he goes quiet, Luke takes a minute to breathe and think, before he carefully summarizes, “So… Reggie’s mad at you cause you didn’t wanna tell Alex about your headaches?”

“Reggie’s mad at me,” Bobby corrects, his voice breathy with exhaustion, “because I didn’t wanna tell him either. If he hadn’t caught me in the middle of one, I probably wouldn’t have said anything at all.”

“How come?” Luke tries for gentle, but he’s not sure he quite makes the mark. “You had no trouble telling me.”

“You’re easy,” Bobby grumbles. “I didn’t exactly have to try hard to make a good first impression. Doesn’t matter so much if you think I’m weak.”

“And it does with Reggie?” He doesn’t bother asking about Alex. Luke loves the guy, but he knows better than anyone how bitey and judgmental Alex can get. How slow to trust. Luke doesn’t much love showing weakness in front of Alex either. But Reggie… “Bro, Reggie just wants to be helpful. He’d care that you’re hurting, not that you weren’t totally together all the time. He wouldn’t think you’re weak.” He adds as an afterthought, “...and Alex would get over it.”

Bobby huffs out a laugh. He chokes on it, then turns away from Luke to cough into his fist. Luke rubs his back, feeling the tremors that the coughing fit causes, and winces in sympathy as Bobby takes a slow breath and rubs his chest like it hurts. Luke knows the feeling.

Acting on instinct, Luke reaches over and brushes Bobby’s hair back, pressing a palm to his forehead. He doesn’t feel warm, thank god, but he still leans into the touch, his eyes closing in relief, even as he mumbles, “Told you, I don’t have a fever.”

“I know,” Luke says softly, and really means, I’m sorry. “You want my advice, about Reggie?”

Bobby gives a tiny nod, makes a soft whining sound in the back of his throat that Luke is pretty sure is supposed to be a yes.

“You don’t have to try so hard. Reggie and Alex both, they… they want to be your friends. You just gotta let them.” He runs his hand through Bobby’s hair in slow, gentle strokes. “And with Reggie, a sincere apology goes a long way.”

Bobby nods again and slumps over to lay his head on Luke’s shoulder. “I’ll call him in the morning. For tonight…” Luke feels him tense, but when Bobby lifts his eyes to Luke’s, they’re open and vulnerable and honest, as he says, “Will you stay?”

Luke’s heart does a happy little flip-flop inside his chest. “Of course I will.” He presses a kiss to Bobby’s head and reluctantly pushes himself up off the couch. “Lemme just go call my folks and let them know I’m sleeping over. If I’m not back in ten, assume your mom’s kidnapped me to test out that aromatherapy treatment she kept going on about. And I’m bringing you tea.”

Bobby protests out of principle, calls him a nuisance, and a worrywart and a nag, but Luke feels Bobby’s smile on his back all the way out the door.

***

Reggie drops his bike along the wall beneath the Pattersons’ front window and skips up to the door, swallowing back the nerves drying his throat before quickly jabbing his finger against the doorbell.

Its chime echoes long and loud, enough that it makes Reggie flinch, makes him pick at his fingers and start to think that maybe coming here wasn't the best idea after all.

Because Luke’s still recovering. Luke’s got a boyfriend now. Luke shouldn’t have to spend time and energy worrying about Reggie and all his problems.

But before Reggie can turn around and leave, the door opens, and Luke’s mom smiles at him.

“Reginald! How are you, dear?”

“Very well, thank you!” Reggie smiles politely, bouncing on his heels a little. “How are you, Mrs. P?”

“I’m just fine, Reginald.” She leans against the doorway, her expression turning a little amused. “Did you need something, dear? Luke’s not home.”

“Oh, he’s not?” Reggie’s heart sinks. He clears his throat a little. “Um, is he… do you know when he’ll be back?”

“Probably not until morning. He’s staying at Robert’s tonight.”

“He’s sleeping over?” he repeats, surprised. Mitch and Emily Patterson don’t seem like the kind of parents who’d be particularly chill about their son spending the night at his boyfriend’s house.

It only then occurs to Reggie that maybe they don’t know Bobby is Luke’s boyfriend…

“I have the phone number,” Mrs. Patterson says, oblivious to Reggie’s conundrum, “if you needed to get in touch with Luke.”

“Oh. Oh, no, it’s okay.” Reggie fixes his smile back into place, swallows thick disappointment. “I’ll head over to Bobby’s, or… or I’ll catch Luke another time. Thanks, Mrs. P!”

He thinks she might start to say something else, but Reggie doesn’t hang around to listen. He scoops up his bike and disappears down the drive, pedaling as hard as he can so the adrenaline will overtake his complex jumble of emotions.

He shouldn’t bother Luke. He doesn’t really need him. He’d just been lonely, and his parents were fighting, and getting out of the house seemed like a really good idea at the time. Plus, he’s been sulking for days now since he yelled at Bobby, and Luke somehow always knows how to cheer Reggie up, even if Reggie wasn’t exactly planning on telling him what’s wrong.

But Luke’s with Bobby. Reggie can’t interrupt them. Luke will almost undoubtedly be mad at Reggie if he finds out Reggie shouted at his boyfriend. Bobby’s probably mad at him already.

As far as Reggie knows, Bobby might just turn him away on sight. Before Reggie even has half a chance to apologize.

Despite this thought process, Reggie’s bike skids to a stop on familiar concrete, bringing him to the realization that he rode to the studio without even thinking about it.

One of the doors has been left open. He can smell popcorn and spices carried out on the wind. He can hear Luke’s laughter, Bobby coughing, a Rolling Stones album playing softly in the background.

It makes Reggie’s throat feel tight, makes it hurt to breathe. He’s so… lonely. He wants what they have, and knows he can’t get it.

He should just go home.

He starts to turn away, but Luke’s voice stops him, calling, “Reg, hey! What are you doing here, man?”

Reggie swallows and awkwardly turns back to face the studio, where Luke’s lounging in the doorway grinning at him, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. Reggie manages a tiny smile of his own that he can only hope is convincing. “Hey, Luke. You, uh… your mom told me you’d be here.”

Reggie starts to add, But I should probably just go, but the words die on his tongue when Bobby appears over Luke’s shoulder, looking pale and tired, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders up at his ears.

“Hey, Reg,” Bobby says, low and gruff.

Reggie swallows, his hands tightening their grip around the handlebars of his bike. “I just… I wanted to talk to Luke?” he says simply, which isn’t totally a lie. “But I can go… if I’m not welcome.”

“What?” Bobby’s expression crumples, and he pushes past Luke to step forward, toward Reggie. “Reg, no, I— of course you’re welcome here. You’re always—” He breaks off, glancing over his shoulder at Luke, who gestures encouragingly. Bobby sighs and turns back, squaring his shoulders. “Reggie, I need to apologize to you. Again.”

Reggie gapes, baffled. “Wha— I— Bobby, no, I should be apologizing to you!”

“Me? Why?”

“Cause I yelled at you.”

“Yeah, but you were right!” Bobby takes another step forward, close enough that he can reach out a hand to hover over Reggie’s, still gripping tight to his handlebars. “Reggie, I’m not good at asking for help. I’m not used to being seen as weak and not having that be a bad thing. But I’m done lying, and I’m done hiding things. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, Reg. And I do want to be your friend.” He takes a deep breath, shoots Luke another quick look, and then says softly, “I’m gonna start being better, Reggie. I promise. I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like I didn’t trust you. Like I didn’t like you. I do. I really do.”

Reggie’s left speechless, and a little choked. He stands there for a few moments, his mouth working but no sound coming out, and stares at Luke and Bobby both, searching their faces for any hint of a sign from either of them that Bobby’s kidding or making fun of him.

Reggie knows Bobby doesn’t mean it— liking him — the way Reggie wants him to, the way Reggie likes him back. But it still puts a lump in his throat, to hear Bobby say it at all — Bobby who never admits to liking anyone!

Reggie doesn’t realize he’s started crying until he tastes salt on his lips and Luke bounds forward to pull Reggie into his arms. That seems to break the floodgates open, then; Reggie lets his bike fall to the concrete with a clatter, buries his face in Luke’s shirt, and sobs.

Luke doesn’t ask why he’s crying, or tell him to stop. He just holds Reggie tight, and when Reggie chokes out, “I was just so lonely, ” whispers, Shh, it’s okay, I know.

Somehow, they end up inside the studio on the folded-out couch. Luke gently pushes Reggie to lie down in the middle, and then immediately climbs in next to him, pulling a mountain of blankets over them both.

After a few moments of awkward hesitation, Bobby joins them on Reggie’s other side, lowering himself gently onto the mattress and curling up so that Reggie feels his warmth without them actually touching.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Reggie gasps out, his tears starting to slow.

“I wish you’d do it more often.” Bobby gives him a tiny smile and slowly slides his hand into Reggie’s. “You can’t get rid of me, man. I got you.”

--

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @teenagedirtbag-dot-jpeg @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @molinapattersons @julieandthequeers @joyandthephantoms @it-tastes-like-lizard @jatpfs

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Stark Contrasts: Chapter Two

Author’s Note: Hey guys, an anon asked for angst, so I gave them a bunch of drama with this chapter. Though I personally wouldn’t classify this as angst, im gonna tag it that way. I think angst is more like a story with a depressing tone, but this is more so dramatic if anything.  But don’t worry I sprinkled in a bit of fluff and some smut to lighten it up a bit. This is a sequel to Stark Contrasts, which I recommend reading first in order to get a background of what led to this chapter. Caution, I used google translate, to add in some French. If any French readers find it offensive or wrong, let me know so I can take it out or edit it. I really hope you enjoy reading this chapter, it took me over a week to write due to writer’s block, but I am pretty happy with the outcome. Once again PLEASE DON’T REPOST MY WORK! 

Summary: Edward Stark realizes the errors of his ways towards the reader, and tries to woo her in order to save their relationship.

Warnings: Smut, Angst, cheating, age gap, daddy kink, etc. 

Song: From Eden by Hozier for the first half, and Run by Hozier for the second. 

Word Count: 11.2k.

Parts: one | two | three | four | five

Chapter Title: Daddy Issues. 

So much had changed since your night with Tony. For one, the entire dynamics of your relationship. Long gone were the unsure lovers with unresolved sexual tension. You two were more confident in your affections now, and this made you reach a new level of comfort within each other and within yourselves. Through the eyes of a stranger, the description would be that of an old—in love, married couple. 

Though he was much older, you were the more mature one. Tony enjoyed doing things just to annoy you. He found your irritation both adorable and sexy. You would get so pouty, and your voice would go up at least three octaves. If he really did his job right, you would end up banging your small fists against his chest, which he thought was the cutest shit in the world. He took pleasure in poking the sides of your stomach, when you were performing tasks that took your attention away from him. “Kitten,” he’d whine when you were entranced in a book, “put that down, and come and play with me.” Then he would lay his head in your lap and talk about absolutely nothing until you noticed him. He only ever drew the line in his endeavors when you were studying. He preferred his head attached to his neck, rather than rolling on the ground. 

Besides always trying to piss you off, he religiously spoiled you rotten. That extravagant lace pale blue body con dress that you saw in your favorite shop? Better believe you’d find it on your bed the next day after Edward left for work and you were getting ready for classes. He would place expensive Cartier bracelets around your breakfast muffins, and bvlgari necklaces around the necks of gifted stuffed animals. He loved buying you luxurious gifts, ranging from earrings to bags. But besides your pleading for him to stop, he knew you struggled to find ways to hide it. If he happened to notice it, explaining to Edward where you got the money to pay for diamond encrusted rings would prove difficult. You were only able to wear your shiny new gifts when you were out with Tony; he found other ways to spoil you however. There were many days, where you had nothing planned, and he’d surprise you with a day at the spa, or a night on the sky in his private helicopter. If it had been up to him, everyone in the world would know you were his, but he just couldn’t risk being seen with you. Because of this fact, he had to become creative with the ways he treated you. From the rooftop dates in secluded towns to the lavish wine tastings alone in Napa, you had experienced more with Tony than you had in your entire life. When he could arrange bullshit business events for Edward to attend, he gave you bullshit reasons to fly with him to Paris, Italy, Greece, and everywhere in between. While Edward had his trips, the two of you had your own. 

Of course you always felt it was too much when he would do all of this. However, no matter how much you begged him to stop spending money on you, he never listened; it was like second nature for him to give you the world and more. He felt it necessary for someone he believed created the moon and stars. 

Most who knew him closely thought he was an asshole. He would often over-talk, dismiss, and challenge others. They always pinpointed on his shortcomings, forgetting that he was a good man in the process. He was a genius billionaire philanthropist, for fuck-sake, who many a time sacrificed his own desires for the wellbeing of others. This is why he always felt guilty. The one thing he kept to himself, the one thing he was not willing to give up, was you, even though you belonged to someone else. 

He just wouldn’t give you up though. Tony adored you. When the rest of the world felt like pollution in his lungs, you were his breath of fresh air. He was intoxicated by you. Enamored in your existence. He saw you as perfect which he knew was impossible in a world full of imperfections. 

He became obsessed with your hair, curious as to how it could defy gravity some days, then dance on your shoulders the next. He needed to know the secret on why the sun resided in your skin, giving it a mahogany glow, with golden undertones.  Your soft full lips, coffee-colored with a tint of pink, were his eternal bliss. It didn’t matter if you smelled of his sex the morning after or if your tired eyes were baggy from a night of studying, he knew you were the most beautiful person he laid eyes on. It was just as simple as that.

Tony wasn’t the only one to change. One could argue you became more bold. Where he showed his love through gifts and adoration, you showed yours through care and touch. “Tony, you’re working too hard. Come to bed now," you’d urge when you’d find him in his study hunched over a stack of papers at his desk. If he had too much on his hands, you would happily take over to help him get done sooner. You were surprisingly stubborn, and would stand firm in your attempts to get him to take care of himself. Though Tony loved annoying you, he hated when you were worried. If he was sick, you’d drop everything to tend to his needs. Whether it was making homemade soup, or driving halfway across town to get a specific type of medicine; you would do it for him no hesitation. It got the point that whenever he wasn’t feeling well, he tried to hide it. In a way being ill made him feel insecure and old. You couldn’t give a shit about those silly worries of his though, because if he needed to be taken care of, that’s what would happen. When nameless idiots over the internet spoke bad on his name, you were the first to draw your sword to defend him. You could never tell him that, but the screen name Tonysbitch99 wasn’t really fooling anyone; how could it when the anonymous face behind the name would say exactly what you would? To you, your love felt minuscule in comparison to his. It’s the reason you hated when he spoiled you. Tony however, appreciated your gestures, and felt that he was the one that was lacking. In reality your love language complemented each other perfectly. His love for you was loud and vocal, whereas yours moved silently. He needed you to ground him, while you needed him to drown out any shadow of a doubt that his actions were genuine. Besides, what could you possibly do for a man that had everything in the world?

Among other things that were now different was the constant sex. You two fucked like rabbits. He once cleared out an entire store just so he could fuck you in your dressing room. Your favorite times were when he didn’t clear the store at all. “Daddy, someone might hear us” you’d moan into his skin while he thrusted into you against a wall. “I want them to.” He would counter, before picking up the pace to build your reaction. On the way home from dining out, you would often ride him in the backseat of his car, the two of you clawing at each others skin desperate to get closer. When you just couldn’t wait to get home from your outings, he would start fingering you underneath the restaurant table while whispering sweet-nothings into your ear; this usually resulted into you getting dragged to the nearest bathroom stall. On nights where Edward was home, he would come up with any excuse to get you alone so he could bury himself into you. The two of you were playing a dangerous game, but Tony was an addict and he didn’t plan on stopping any time soon. 

Perhaps the person to change the most though, was Edward. Whether it was because he learned to work hard for the things he desired in life, or the fact that said things could be taken away from him in an instant, he was changing. Most importantly, he saw that you were changing. Tony and you may have thought him to be a self-absorbed idiot, but he saw the fading love marks that littered your neck. He saw the expensive shopping bags filled with shoes and high-end lace, carefully tucked away in your shared closet as if it was meant to be hidden. The new housekeeper bought your hand-stitched lingerie in with the laundry, smiling to him relishing in how lucky he was. But you didn’t wear that for him. He saw the way you bounced around without a care in the world, even though he had not done right by you for the entirety of your relationship. Who was all of this for? Whose texts were you chuckling at while you laid in bed so late at night? Whose scent was embedded in your bedroom sheets? Whose hickeys bruised the surface of your skin? Who was all of this for? 

It was true that he was somewhat of a different man now. Edward in the past would have accused you of being the biggest slut in the world. This Edward however, knew that he had no room for anger. He had absolutely no room for judgement. He had cheated on you since the genesis of it all. That didn’t change the fact that he loved you. He meant it when he said you were his forever girl, and that you were the best thing to ever happen to him. How could he be so foolish and let you give his love away?

“Dad,” he started, looking up to observe the older man. He and Tony were currently sitting opposite in their breakfast nook. Tony with his legs folded, newspaper in hand, orange juice in the other, hadn’t even looked up to acknowledge him. All that could be heard was a barely audible “Hmm?” 

“I think maybe I need some time off from the company” He stated.

Expecting his father to just be okay with that, he was slightly taken aback when Tony replied, “Why is that?” briefly meeting his eyes before returning to the words on his paper. 

“Well, its actually about Y/N” at this, he had his full attention. 

“What’s wrong with Y/N? Is she sick?” Slight panic dripping in his words.

“Well no but…” he began, trying to find the words to say. 

“But what Edward? Use your words, kid!” He demanded, tone a few notes away from a shout. He saw the surprise in his son’s face, so he straightened himself and said “Sorry. It's just you know how close we are. She’s my best friend.” He wanted to say you were his girlfriend, but best friend reigned true as well. 

“Well,” Edward began again “Our relationship is in shambles. I’m pretty sure she’s cheating on me and I don’t want to lose her. She might be the only woman who’s gonna put up with my shit. And I know she’s genuine because she doesn’t ask for my money. I feel like if I’m here more, I have a chance of rekindling our connection” Edward stated, confiding in his father, hoping to find some sense of relief. He hadn’t realized how hurt he was. Is this how he made you feel? Tony almost felt guilty. But protectiveness over you soon clouded his sense of remorse. Who was he to try and take you away from him? 

He examined his son. The younger boy looked like he hit copy paste on his mother’s genes. They shared the same facial features, down to her high cheek bones, only Edward had raven black hair and dark brown eyes. He was more compared to Robert Pattinson than he was to his own father, even though he looked nothing like either of them. Man, genes were a funny thing. 

Tony thought about his words. It was true that you were humble and any other woman with an ounce of self-respect would have hit the door running the minute they found out how sleazy Edward had been. You almost did, until you met his father.

He put down his newspaper, turned to Edward and took in a sharp breath before saying, “She is taken care of, so you have nothing to worry about. There isn’t any unknown man coming in from off the street sniffing around your woman.” Tony chose his words carefully. They were cautiously crafted so that he technically told the truth. He was many things, but he hated to be called a liar. 

He read the uncertainty in Edward’s face, then continued his case. “In all honesty, Ed, you know I need you at your desk. You wanted this, are you really gonna let your insecurities get in the way of that? If so, maybe I should find someone better to take your—” 

Quickly interrupting his rambles, “No dad, listen. I don’t want to give up my seat. I’ll just have to find some other way to solve our issues.” 

“Exactly what issues do you have?” Tony pressed, eyebrows knitting together. 

“Don’t ask me how I know, but she’s cheating on me. I’m sure of it.” He confirmed, staring blankly into his father’s eyes. What does know? Tony thought to himself. Does he know it’s me? “Besides why are you getting so defensive?” Edward challenged. “It almost sounds as if you’re mad.”

“It’s just I know what kind of girl she is.” He defended, throwing his hands up and sitting back in his seat a bit. “She wouldn’t cheat on the man she loves. And I’m sure she cares about what you think.” Taking in his words after a moment, Edward chuckled to himself. His dad was right, you had to care about him. Why else would you still be here despite how much he had put you through. 

“Thanks dad. I think I was worried about nothing for a second there.” In the back of his mind, he still knew you were sleeping around, but now he was certain that it was all done as a cry for help. You just wanted his attention. He felt silly. He smiled to himself, then to his father. Tony returned a weak smile; the rest of his face couldn’t fake the empty sentiment. Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, you came in to distract them. You came bounding down the staircase on your way to make some breakfast before your trek to school. Both of the men instantly averted their attention away from each other, to instead lay it onto you. 

It was a cool fall day, so you were wearing a cropped white turtleneck that you paired with a pleated floral skirt. Long tan thigh high boots hugged your brown legs in just the right way, and you wore a simple (but expensive) necklace that Tony purchased for you. You used to care, but now you thought nothing of it since you knew Edward never paid any attention to you. Today happened to be one of those days that you were wrong. While Edward silently fumed over your choice of jewelry, Tony thought of new ways to violate you. With your consent, of course. 

Focused on the iPad in your hands, you failed to notice anyone else in the room until you heard the creak of a wooden chair. Looking up from your device, you were greeted by the men of the house eyeing you meticulously. “Oh sorry. Good morning” you smile, shy from the sudden attention.

“Good morning sweetheart” “–Morning babe.” Tony and Edward say simultaneously, surprising each other, and surprising you. As they say it,  their necks snap towards each other for just a second and their expressions match; furrowed brows and clenched jaws. Your eyes widen for a second before you continue on with your business. 

Before swallowing the awkward silence, Tony begins, “You’re down here pretty early. Do you have something important to do?” 

“I don’t have anything planned, I just wanted to wake up early to get some things done before class.” You returned, searching the cupboards.  

Upon hearing your plans to do nothing, Edward sparked up an idea. He cleared his throat, and rose from his seat to hesitantly trudge over to you. At the moment, you were standing on your toes trying to reach your favorite coffee mug in the top of the cupboard. Tony always placed it there to watch you struggle, just like he was doing right now. While taking pleasure in how cute you looked bouncing up and down, he hadn’t noticed Edward leave from his seat until he blocked his view. He shadowed your form to place a hand over yours bringing down your mug. Slightly startled, by his touch, you dropped it. It fell into his hand before it could shatter on the floor. “I’m sorry for scaring you.” He chortled, turning his lips into his famous sexy grin. It did nothing but repulse you. 

“Its fine.” As you take your mug and turn away from him to pour your coffee, Edward wraps his hands around your hips to turn your body towards him. You were now facing Tony, but even if you weren’t you would be able to sense the daggers he was throwing into Edward’s back. His orange juice glass was on the verge of shattering, and the wood on the table threatened to splinter his fingers, from the grip he had on it. He wasn’t supposed to touch you. 

“So I was thinking” Edward began, dragging his thoughts out. “Since you don’t have any plans, I’m taking you out tonight.” You mentally cursed yourself for going into detail about your day in front of him. Mouth agape in utter disgust, you were at a loss for words. Tony could think of a few he wanted to say; however, but he stayed silent. Edward took your silence as surprise. In his eyes, you were happy to finally be spending some time with him. Everyone just stared at each other. Edward at you, you at Edward, and Tony back and forth between the both of you. “I can tell you’re happy.” His hands began to roam up and down your sides as he spoke. He drew a line up your spine, and pressed his lips to your ear before whispering, “Make sure to wear something sexy—”

“Edward sweetie, as the boss, don’t you think you should be at work bright and early.” Tony advised. Saving both you, and Edward. He worked very hard to ensure his words didn’t fall through gritted teeth.

Without taking his eyes off of you, Edward rolled them and smirked at you, as if you too were frustrated with Tony for cock-blocking. He quickly pecked your lips and went to grab his workbag. Your eyes followed his movement about the room. Just before exiting the house, he turned back to you to say “Be ready at seven” and then he turned the knob to leave.  

You, Tony, and silence were all alone together. You didn’t dare look at him, but the side of your face was burning from the glare he had on it. Acting as if nothing happened, you turn back around to prepare your day.  

Still staring in your direction, it was now Tony’s turn to get up. He leaped from his seat to take long strides towards you. He stopped just short of where you were standing, waiting for you to acknowledge him. You tried to busy your hands with your current task, cracking eggs into a bowl, waiting for him to break the silence; he was waiting for you to do the same. The sound of egg yolks hitting the surface of the bowl, followed by the stirring of a whisk were the only noises to be heard in the kitchen. 

“Yes, my love?” You ask after a few moments, the quiet becoming too unbearable. 

“Why aren’t you looking at me?” He replied, eyes boring into the side of your head. 

“Tony what are you talking about. I’m busy.” You sigh, growing annoyed. 

“Well fine, if you won’t look me in the eyes, can you at least answer me this? What. The Fuck. Was That?” He asked, soaking his words in drama. He placed his hand flat onto the counter awaiting an answer.

“I honestly don’t know.” You answer truthfully, still whisking your eggs. 

“Well did you two make up?” Tony pressed.

“No, I guess—”

“Well then why did he kiss you?”

“Tony, I don’t know wh—”

“Well then why don’t you know?”

“Could you let me finish!” You shouted before giving him your undivided attention. Your outburst both surprised and shut him up. “I don’t know why he kissed me. I don’t know why he asked me out on a date. We did not make up, because as usual we don’t say a word to each other. Fucking hell, this has been the first time in a year since we’ve been in the same room for longer than a minute, besides when we’re asleep.” You end your rant with this “All that I know is this, I don’t care. I’m not going on that date because I would rather spend the night with you. To be completely frank, I think I’d rather spend the night in a closet with murderous clowns, than go on a date with your shitty son.” With that, you walk away to aggressively click on the stove to begin cooking your breakfast. 

“Well,” Tony began, only slightly taken aback. “I know he’s shitty, but you didn’t have to say it. He is still my son, so I’m the only one who reserves the right to call him a shitty.” He chuckled, leaning opposite to you against the counter, looking down to observe your actions. 

“And to that I say, when you do a piss-poor job at raising a man to respect women, then anyone reserves the right to call them shitty.” You comment, meeting his eyes with a small smile before turning back to your  cooking. 

Tony smirked at your remark. “Blame his mom, because I’m a total feminist.” He grasped your chin to turn it towards him, bringing his face down to kiss yours before abruptly stopping. He took a paper towel from the bar, and began wiping your lips, earning a glare from you, that soon turned into a fit of laughter. His smirk only grew wider at his successful attempt to diminish your anger. 

“You make me sick.” You roared, calming down from your fit, before wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in for a deep kiss. When you were ready to let go, Tony wasn’t. Ignoring his needy looks, you turned back around to your task at hand. Like that, the mood changed from light-hearted, to serious in an instant. Unsatisfied, Tony moved from his spot at the counter to wrap his arms around your middle, pulling you flush against his chest. 

“You know I could get used to you yelling at me. It really turns me on” he said, rocking from side to side which made you sway in his arms. 

“Babe.”

“Hmm.” He hummed, rubbing a finger down your spine the same way Edward did earlier, only this time instead of chills and shivers, you felt warm tingles. 

Not now.” You warned, already knowing where this was going. He pushed a bang behind your ear to admire your neck.

“Why not. Can’t you skip school for just one day?” Tony responds, fanning his lips over your ear.

“ No. No I cannot.” You reply, trying to overlook the kisses he planted against your neckline, and the traveling hands against your curves. 

“Then just be a little late.” He said, palming your chest, taking his time to massage the fleshy mounds. You lose your composure as he brings a hand down your sternum to dip underneath your skirt. You both groaned, him at how wet you were, and you at how good his hands felt. “Besides I know you wanna stay a little longer.” His voice was shaky and husky, and he was about to snap, which made your knees like jelly. 

“Tony, please.” You were going for stern, but your demands came out in labored pants. You felt his hardened member pressed against your ass and back, and you knew if you didn’t stop him now, there was no way you were leaving the house any time soon. You unfastened his hands from your waist, and pushed him away from you before continuing your cooking. You cleared your throat to say “Maybe later.”

Seemingly defeated, Tony started with a sigh “Fine. No more teasing. But I’m hungry.” 

“I have time to make you some French toast or pancakes.” You respond, placing your cooked breakfast on a plate and turning the stove off. 

“I think I’ll have you instead.” He says, before planting one more kiss beneath your ear.

“No thanks love.” You chuckle. 

“I wasn’t asking,” he retorted, before hoisting you up by your knees and placing you on the island away from the stove. You laugh in the process, knowing that this was inevitable. Upon sitting you down, his lips were on yours in an instant. Hurried sloppy kisses, covered your mouth and jaw as he explored your body with his fingers. As he traced his the index along your collarbone he realized he found new things to worship every time. His lips were hot and wet on your skin, both burning and soothing everything in their path. Breaking the kiss for just a moment, he brushed passed your shoulder  to push everything that was on the kitchen-top’s surface to the ground. 

“You’re cleaning that up this time.” You exhaled, before grabbing his face to bite his bottom lip, something you knew drove him crazy. 

“Fuck it princess, it’s worth it.” He groaned, before roughly pushing you down, while being careful enough to not injure your head. He reached up your thighs and under your skirt, to pull your panties down your legs and over your boots. 

“Let me take these off” you suggest, lifting the band to your shoes, but he raised his hand up to stop you, eyeing you through his tousled brown locks. 

“I like them on.” He pressed a gentle kiss against your exposed skin, before saying “I’m keeping these by the way.” in reference to your lacy black underwear, before stuffing them in his back pocket. He bent down to pepper love-marks along each leg before lifting your skirt to place a soft kiss against your entrance. There was no time for him to be a tease, so he quickly dived his tongue between your folds, and he began writing his full name into your lips. The name Anthony Edward Stark felt both long and short, as it was being etched into your core. Shocks of what felt like electricity rippled through your spine, as your pussy purred to his beckoning. You were a fucking mess. He let a string of spit fall from his lips and onto yours, before flattening his tongue to gather the mixture, slurping and suckling in the process . Your eyes started to roll to the back of your head, until Tony pinched your clit. This became his favorite signal for you to give him your attention, the jolt always conflicted your pain and pleasure receptors. You loved and hated eye contact. That feeling of vulnerability sent your mind into a frenzy. But Tony refused to let you look away; he was obsessed with the way your face looked when you came undone. He began making the lewdest sounds against your cunt, tonguing it in the same way he’d do your mouth. You made a mess of his face. Your juices were dripping down your folds and in between your cheeks; what his tongue didn’t catch spilled onto the island. With his face buried in your box, his nose would lightly brush your clit, sending you straight into ecstasy. 

You slightly squeezed around his head, only to have him pry your legs open. His tongue fucked your hole, making you clench around it.  You were already so close, but Tony wanted this to last—that way, you’d be bursting at the seems by the time he was finished with you. “Someone wants to be fucked senseless, doesn’t she?” He asked as he raised up, licking his lips. Smirking down at you, he lifted your sweater up to your chin, in order reveal your happy breasts. He then pulled your bra under them to get a full view of the spread.  

Dragging you closer to the edge, he massaged his fingers into your pussy, running them through your lips, while watching you squirm underneath his touch. He placed a hand between your thigh, kneading the immediate area with his thumb. He was enjoying the view, but knew that he only had a few minutes left; so, he pulled his pants down, coated his length with the hand he previously used to massage you with, and sunk into you no warning. 

You took in a sharp breath, tears welling in your eyes and chest rising and falling. As many times as you had been with him, you still weren’t used to his size. “Shit, kitten. I’m sorry, I thought you were ready for me” he swore, grunting at the feel of you. Despite the overwhelming pleasure, he wouldn’t move until you said it was okay. 

When the pain subsided pleasure quickly took over. You looked him in his eyes to say “Please wreck me baby.” He crooked his neck to look at you sideways for a second as if to ask ‘are you sure?’, dick twitching inside of it. You were more than sure. Then, before you were able to comprehend he snapped his hips forward, drilling into you at a brutal pace. Your moans and pants turned into screams, and you braced your hands against his abs. He grabbed your wrists to steady himself, so that he could thrust deeper into you. He loved this shit. The way your chest bounced. Your broken moans and cries. Even the expressions you wore, were enough to spur him on. 

“I can do this all day!” He growled, relentlessly hammering into you. He thought your tight little cunt was euphoria. At this point you felt like he was in your stomach, threatening to go further. You felt your dam about to break once more, but he was a step ahead of you. 

He sat you up and pulled you off the counter, quickly turning you around, ridding you of your orgasm again. Frustrated, you wiggled your ass, and pressed it against him, desperate for his touch. This earned you a harsh slap against the cheek. “Don’t play that game with me, unless you don’t wanna walk for a week” he warned before digging his nails into your skin. Within a second after that, his cock vanished behind your walls, instantly hitting your g-spot. You yelped throwing your hands back to cushion the slaps between his thighs and your own. Tony grabbed them, and like before,  used them to pull you back onto him. “No, no princess. Take all of me baby. I want you to feel it all.” He growled, slamming his frustrations into you. The cabinet doors below you were shaking from the impact of your thighs. Your nipples, slid across the cool countertops as Tony stroked in and out you. You laid your head down on the counter, strength leaving you as he rocked you back and forth.

To reach a better angle, he grabbed one of your knees, lifting it to lay beside your hip against the counter. He then leaned over, so that your back was against his chest. “This pussy is mine, do you understand?”

“Yes daddy.” You whimper. 

“I’m sorry what was that?” He challenges, grabbing a fistful of curls to yank, lifting you both back up.

“I said yes daddy” you shout, approaching your orgasm once more. 

Tony roughly grabs your chin to turn it towards him, pressing his forehead against yours. “I can tell you’re close princess. I can feel you getting tighter around me. But good girls always ask before they cum. Beg for it.” He whispered. 

You knew he wasn’t joking, but you wore your worried expression on your face. “Don’t be shy kitten. It’s just you and me.” He assured, lightly kissing your lips as he spoke. 

“Please let me cum Tony.” 

“Do you think you deserve to?” He questioned, suddenly ticked off from Edward’s bold gestures earlier. His lips ghosted over yours and he began slowing his moments, to really pound himself into your core. “You’re a filthy little slut for letting another man touch you.” On any other occasion, his words would have pissed you off, but in this moment they just made you wetter. 

“I only want you to touch me daddy, I’m sorry” You whine, throwing your ass back onto his cock, determined to take your orgasm, but wary of the consequences if you do. 

He gripped your neck with one hand, and grabbed a tit with the other. He fondled and massaged the breast, while applying pressure with the hand on your neck. He places his face to the side of yours, chin hairs tickling your cheek.“Do you promise to never let that happen again? Hmm?’” He presses, squeezing your breast and tweaking your nipple. All of this was happening while he was continuing his movements in and out of you.

“I promise baby, please just let me cum.” You screamed. You were losing your composure, and your vision was becoming blurry from tears. He had denied you one too many times, and you didn’t know if you could hang on any longer. You were pleading with him at this point. 

“Cum” was all he said, as you coated his dick in your juices. Tony followed you not a second after, shooting his load up, feeling it come oozing down his member. He bit into your shoulder-blade to suppress his moans. You however lets yours come out in an almost embarrassing shriek. You had no shame though, Tony had brung you out of your shell many, many orgasms ago. 

Now a sweaty mess, he unsheathed himself, and leaned down to place a kiss on your back before readjusting your sweater and skirt. He then turned to readjust himself. 

“I know you’re gonna hate what I am about to say,” he warned, buckling his belt and bracing himself for your reaction, “but you should go on the date.”

“What, why?” You questioned, turning to face him, confused by his suggestion. Was he tired of this? Was he tired of you?

“I just don’t want this to end. So…to not raise any suspicion, you should go out, and have fun.” He stated before averting his gaze. He clearly didn’t want you to, but he knew you needed to. 

“Tony I’m not going.” You stated, fixing your hair and walking away to collect your items for school. “He didn’t even ask me, he told me. So I don’t want to do this.” You pout. 

Trailing behind you slowly, he asked this question “So if he had asked you, would you have been more willing to go.” You were kneeling down to adjust the straps on your school bag at the moment, but you stopped to survey him. His hands were buried in his pockets, and his shoulders were squared. He wasn’t the usual sure of himself cocky man you’d come to know, for a minute he seemed insecure. 

“Tony, I wouldn’t want to go period.” You confirmed, raising up to stand at his level. You unplanted his hands from his pockets, and clasped them to your own, stroking his knuckles. 

“Sweetheart,” he started. He let go of your hands to so that he could cup your cheeks. “I think you have to baby.”

“Ugh.” You loudly scoffed, letting his hands go to walk back into the kitchen and grab your breakfast. Your eggs were cold now, so you searched for an apple and a granola bar instead,  as Tony continued his case. 

“Listen, Edward knows about us. Well, not us specifically, but he knows you’re with someone. Without him, there is relatively no reason for us to continue…us. It would look bad if we still remained close with each other if your relationship with him ended.”

“Tony I’ve been living here for over a year now. I think it would be even weirder if I just cut off ties with you completely” you sneered, violently flinging the refrigerator door open in search for the string cheese. Tony mirrored your movements, and slammed the door back. 

“Sweetpea, could you just think about it.” He pleaded, while talking with his hands and peering down at you with his chocolate orbs. Butterflies started to flutter in your stomach, at the new pet name he assigned you. He always tried out different ones for different situations, and this one just happened to fit this one. “We always knew this was a difficult relationship. Even if you guys ended on good terms, dating me right after would not be the greatest idea. At least if you’re with Eddy, we have more time to figure things out. Please.” 

Contemplating his words, you knew he was right. But that didn’t change the fact that you hated it.  “Fine. I’ll go on this stupid ass date.” As you said it, the word date was laced in venom, venom that you wished to reserve for Edward’s veins. “How are you okay with all of this though? Whats your secret?”

He thought about it for a moment, and then replied, “I’m not” before pursing his lips and looking down at his feet.  Weirdly enough, you needed to hear that. Knowing that you both were going through this dread together oddly made you feel better. You grabbed his chin to lean in for a passionate kiss. Your taste from earlier still lingered on his tongue. 

“Everything is going to be fine.”  You assured, gazing up at him. 

“Ya, I know.” He smiled, before looking down at his watch. “Well not everything, because you’re late for class again.”

“Shit!” You screeched. He watched as you sprinted through the door after scrambling to grab your stuff, all before he could even blink. 

“I love you, Y/N.” He said to himself, as he waved at your fleeting car. 

——————————————————

“How does this one look?”

“No. No. No. That slit is entirely too high!”

“Tony, it’s literally below the knee. And you’re the one that chose it!”

“Too much skin. Next.”

“Yea well he has seen me naked before so.” You mumbled. 

“What was that? Yea maybe this whole thing was a bad idea. You were  right kid, take it off and we’ll come up with an excuse as to why you couldn’t go.” He was worried. He became worried after the first dress. Though he would never admit it, you knew when he was upset. He would place his glasses on his face and get to talking faster than normal. 

“Baby, like I said earlier, everything is going to be fine. Trust me.” You assured, as you went to get changed into the 7th dress of the night. 7:00 o’clock was approaching faster than normal. You had been home for a few hours now, so you and Tony mentally prepared yourself. He drew you both a hot bubble bath to calm your nerves, but it didn’t do much for them.  As the time got closer, it got harder to convince each other, that this was fine. At the moment, it was your turn to persuade Tony.

You came back into the room, in a flirty fit and flare dress. Though the dress was less than a foot away from your ankles, it hugged your curves perfectly. “Hell no. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” He shouted. He had crossed and uncrossed his legs so many times at this point, you thought he’d pull a muscle. He got up to pace the room. You had never seen him worry this much. 

You met him from across the room, skipping to stand behind him. As you hugged his back, you stood on your tippy toes to press your chin on his shoulder. “Honey,” you cooed, “it might help if you told me exactly what you were afraid of.”

“I’m a grown ass man Y/N, there isn’t much that I’m afraid of.” He retorted. 

Aware of the sudden attitude, you reply “Fine, maybe afraid is the wrong word. Let’s say nervous. What’s got you so anxious?”

He placed his hands on top of yours  before sighing, “I don’t want him to steal your heart. But I also don’t want my son to be hurt. I really don’t want to lose you, but I also feel like I am being selfish towards you both.” He turned around after making his last point, entangling your fingers together. “Most of all, I don’t wanna lose you.” 

You placed your head on his chest and chuckled, the gesture sending small vibrations through him.“You said ‘I don’t wanna lose you’ like three times already.”

“Well I don’t. And you know what, who gives a fuck about me being selfish. I am that way when it comes to you. And don’t I get to be?” He asked the question more to himself than to you. 

“Yes pumpkin.”

“I know. I mean, I’ve failed him as a parent you know? If he doesn’t have the decency to appreciate someone as wonderful as you, then I have failed him. I don’t know what to do. I usually do, but I just don’t this time.” You had never seen Tony be so vulnerable before. Over the past year, he had seen you in so many compromising situations that would have made any other man run straight for the heels. But you seldom saw him in those same compromising situations. This was new, and while you always liked new, this was scary. You feared, that he saw an end to this before you could. 

“It is going to be okay.” That was all you could say. He sighed, and placed a kiss against your forehead before speaking. 

“Y/N,  I’ve been wanting to tell you,—”

“Dad! Y/N!” You heard Edward yell. You two quickly removed yourself from each other, just before he could make the room. You ran back into your bathroom to slip into another gown. When Edward came in, he was surprised to find his father in his room. “I was looking for you, but I didn’t expect to find you in here.” He began changing out of his work clothes, to freshen up. 

“Well yea, she asked me to help her pick a dress.”

“I hope you helped me out here. I am trying to get laid tonight.” He admitted, winking at his dad. Tony just stared at him blankly. Taking his expression as disapproval for his choice of word, he awkwardly laughed, “Oh come on dad, don’t get stiff on me now, you know you taught me everything I know.” He began changing into his date attire, before realizing something was missing. He went to look in your shared bathroom. 

Attempting to walk in, the door was immediately slammed back into his face. He was embarrassed that it happened in front of Tony, who was currently chuckling on your bedroom couch. Regaining his cool, he knocked on the door. “Babe, I need to get in for a sec.”

“I’m in here.” You replied, with short words and short tones. 

“Yea babe, I know you’re in there, the thing is I need to be in there too.” He was annoyed, but you were already pissed about going out with him. Especially since he interrupted his dad from earlier. What was he gonna say? You thought. 

“Well you’re gonna have to fucking wait Edward.”

“Listen, if this is about your dress, I’m gonna be happy with whatever you put on for me okay?” He assured. 

“No, Edward. This is about me not wanting you to see me naked.” You corrected. “Now you could either wait, or forget about the entire date.”

“Well, I guess that means you’re not getting laid tonight.” Tony teased, fighting the shit-eating grin, that threatened to plaster his face. It got harder when Edward looked at him with the biggest death-glare .

Why does the bastard seem happy about that? he thought to himself. “Whatever. There’s always next time.” He stated matter-of-factly, not noticing the joy that left his father’s eyes. “Do you have any cologne that I can borrow?” He was still annoyed but it was fleeting. You two were not going to ruin his night. He would have you by the end of it. 

“Uh, yea I left it in the downstairs bathroom, follow me.” Edward found it hard to read Tony at the moment. As mentioned before, the older man rarely lost his composure. Those closest to him, knew his ticks, but by no means were Tony and Edward close. Father and son, maybe, but they would never be friends. Edward always took to his mother, listening to the poison she spewed in his ears from the time he was old enough to understand. To him, Tony was a terrifying, self-entitled, know-it-all, who never granted mercy tho anyone, even those he loved.  

Up until recently, he saw that that wasn’t true, or if it had been it was in the past now. As he followed him down the staircase, they reached the bathroom where the cologne resided. Tony, trying to play nice, handed Edward a tiny glass bottle. The bottle itself probably cost over a thousand dollars, what did that say about the tawny brown liquid inside. “Thanks man.” Was all he said, as he carelessly took it. 

“Hey, you be careful with that! It cost more than your entire outfit.” 

He spritzed the liquid onto his collar and wrists before speaking “This smells really good. What is this again? I feel like I’ve smelled this before.”

“Forget about the damn cologne Edward. We need to talk about Y/N.” His demeanor turned serious, as he addressed you. 

“What is there to talk about?” He questioned, tousling with his hair in the mirror.

“She’s fragile right now, and I just don’t think you should force yourself onto her.”

“Woah, woah, woah. I’m not a rapist.”

“That’t not what I’m saying at all. The very fact that that’s the first thing your mind jumped to is alarming to say the least. Whatever, anyway, I’m saying that you can be a little aggressive with your approach. She doesn’t appreciate your selfish nature.”

“Selfish? Did she tell you that?” He stopped with his hair and eyed him through the mirror. 

“All that I am saying is that you may win more points with her, if you ask her about what she wants.” Tony didn't even know why he bothered trying to help him. In all honesty, he was just trying to to help you.

“Dad, you just let her call me selfish? I am your son, shouldn’t you care more about what I think?”

“You literally just proved her point. And shouldn’t you want to be more attentive to your girlfriend’s needs?”

“Why are you two so close? Don’t you think that’s a little weird?” He inspected his father skeptically. He turned around to slowly look him up and down before continuing “Whose side are you on?”

Tony stood firm. He made sure to show no sign of weakness. “I’m on her’s.” His eyes burned a hole through Edward, and the younger boy bit back his anger to cower his head away from his father’s menacing look.

“Let’s go, before I change my mind.” They both perked their heads up to look at you standing through the bathroom’s doorway. 

You were wearing a silk mauve spaghetti-string top, paired with pearl colored high-waisted wide-leg dress pants; those were held together by a simple Gucci belt. A chic baggy blazer that matched the pants graced your arms, and three-tier pearl earrings dangled from your lobes. Your perfectly manicured cream colored nails clutched a large white wristlet against your person. You sported a curly shoulder-length bob, and your makeup was done to look natural. On your feet were a pair of costly looking suede heels whose color resembled your top; their points were so sharp they could puncture skin. You looked more ready for a business meeting, than a date. 

“Wow babe” Edward started, eyeing you in detail. “You look great, but I thought you were gonna wear something a bit more comfortable.”

“Well Edward, you said you would be happy with whatever I chose.”

“I mean I am but—”

“You look amazing.” Tony interjected, eyeing you a little too long for Edward’s liking. 

“I mean don’t act so surprised, I am a boss ass bitch” You respond feeling shy all of a sudden. You broke eye contact to bite your bottom lip and examine your feet. How could your stomach still swarm and your face still heat up after all this time. 

He cleared his throat before saying, “Right well, you guys have a date to attend. I hope you have fun” He turned to Edward to adjust his collar, “But not too much fun.” He left it at that for a moment before adding, “Because ya know, I’m too pretty to be a granddad right now.” He patted his chest and turned him so that he could push him out of the door.

He stopped you before you could follow, to say in a hushed tone,  “You look beautiful. Hurry back please.”

“I’ll try. Don’t worry.” You gave him a small smile, before turning to leave. 

He grabbed your hand to whip you around and slam the door. He pressed you against it, hands on either side of your head. 

“Tony what the fuc—”

“Say the word and we can call it off.”

“Honey, at this point it’s too late. He’d know something is up if we did that.”

“Do you think I give a flying fuck what he thinks. Come on just say the word.”

“Tony, I am going. We won’t be long. So don’t worry.” You grabbed his cheeks to peck his lips. 

He released his hands from their spot on the door and reopened it to a confused Edward. “Sorry.” He directed towards him. “It looked like she had a gaping hole in her pant leg. Couldn’t let it ruin your date.” He was always a terrible liar, and as he said it, he watched your retreating movements to the vehicle. 

“Thanks for looking out,” Edward said sarcastically before following your steps. He tried to open it for you, but you ensured that you could open the door yourself in a cold manner.

When you got into the car, you prepped yourself for the long night before you. If you had looked back at Tony’s expression, you may have never left with Eddy. 

———————————————————————

Shit. You thought, as you pulled up to the restaurant. Of course it had to be one that you and Tony frequented a lot. Every time they saw him, they called you both by name. You should have known something was up when the drive took an hour outside the city. 

“Eddy, why don’t we go somewhere else.” You say as you slide down in your seat. “This place looks expensive.”

“I want to try this. I’ll take care of the bill.” He was being short with you now. It was due to the lack of communication during the entire drive. No matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t get more than two words out of you. You almost felt bad, but that diminished when you saw him shamelessly checking out a girl who was passing by your car. You didn’t even care about it, you were just annoyed that he did it in your presence even though it was his idea to take you out. 

“Fine.” You retort, unbuckling your seatbelt to beat him inside. You felt that if you got in before him, you could warn the staff not to mention Tony, or your being there before. Too bad Edward’s legs were way longer than yours. 

“Slow down, I’m the one who made the reservations.” He ran up to walk beside you. He sensed you sense him checking the other woman out, and took your sudden mood shift as jealousy. “Don’t worry baby, she wasn’t even that pretty.” He snaked an arm around your waist, which made you recoil away. He opened the glass doors for you, and you were immediately embraced with the familiar smell of French cuisine. The ambiance was soft and warm, and the lights were dim as golds and yellows lay in the scenery. Being here without Tony wasn’t the best, but at least you felt somewhat at home.  

As the two of you approached the maître d’s desk, the jolly man lit up at the sight of you. Samuel was the sweetest, and sassiest person you had ever come to know. The fact that he could be both was why you loved him.

“Aww ma cherré! C'est si gentil à vous de nous rejoindre ce soir!” Samuel exclaimed. He was elated to see you since it had been a while. 

“Tu m'as manqué Samuel!” You were happy to see him as well and expressed how much you missed him. 

“You two know each other?” Edward inserted, causing Samuel to focus his attention on him. 

“Well no. I just read his name tag.” You said nervously.

“Qui est-ce?” Samuel asked, trying to figure out who Edward was. He was currently sizing him up. This wasn’t his precious Tony.

“What did he say? I knew I should have gone somewhere, where they speak English” Edward complained. 

Samuel mumbled something about Edward being an entitled prick, which made it hard for you to suppress a smile. “He asked what was the reservation name under.”

“Ahh, it’s under Stark! I am the one who called ahead 3 hours ago!” Edward shouted, like the asshat he was.

“Monsieur, I understand English. I’m from New York.” Samuel stated with an attitude. “However speaking French helps set the tone for this environment. Also, if you yell at a person who you presume to speak a different language, it makes you look like an obnoxious prick.” You couldn’t suppress your smile this time. 

“Is it customary to speak like that to your guests too?” Edward challenged, making both you and Samuel’s smile falter. 

“Non monsieur.” He replied, the confidence from before had left now. 

“Yea I didn’t think so. I would like you and your staff to speak English to me for the rest of the night.” He informed, a menacing smirk playing on his face. “I should see that you take care of those who give you service.” 

“Yes sir. Allow me to lead you to your table.”  You tugged on the cuffs of his jacket to look at him with sorry eyes. “ Ahh Mrs. Y/L/N, will you be taking your usual spot on the roof—”

You looked at him with wide eyes before you said “Monsieur!” You shouted. You guys had stopped, “Could you show me to the restroom! I am sorry I cannot hold my bladder any longer.”

“But you already know—” Samuel you idiot! You thought to yourself. 

“Restroom please!”

“Okay okay, just a minute!” Your outbursts were out of character, so he was just now realizing something was wrong. “You can sit here sir. Right this way ma’am.”

When you two got  out of earshot, that’s when you tackled him with a hug. “I am so sorry he treated you like that.”

“It’s not your fault, my dear. But who is that son-of-a-bitch.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed before saying, “That’s Tony’s son. We are dating.”

“Wait! No what happened with you and Tony!”

“Nothing, we are fine…we just met at the wrong time.” 

“Ahh, does he know that you are dating his son?” You basically just told Samuel that you were dating two people who were blood-related, and he didn’t bat an eye-lash. 

“Of course he knows! Edward doesn’t though, so if it isn’t too much to ask, please tell everyone to act as if they never met me. I would really appreciate it.”

“Anything for my favorite girl! You stupid bitch, I can't believe you didn't tell me all this juicy gossip.” He winked at you before leading you back to your table. 

You sat down in the booth and let your blazer fall from your arms. All of a sudden you felt nervous, but determined to play nice. Edward’s irritation took on a new level, and you forgot that you were supposed to be “rekindling” your relationship. All you had done this entire evening was make it worse. You almost forgot how to talk to him, being alone only made things worse. He was sitting opposite to you, examining his menu. And when he spoke it was cold. 

“I took the liberty to order us some drinks while you were off talking with that server.” So he knew you had lied about the bathroom, yet his eyes hadn’t left his menu. Maybe he was trying to decipher the French, and wasn't really worried about you.

“I don’t drink anymore.” You declared.

“So much has changed about you. Like you speak French now, when did that happen.” His voice was like liquid turned into stone. Hard but smooth at the same time. 

“I took an online class.” You lied. Tony was the one to teach you. “I have an internship in Paris that requires me to learn it.” That part was true though

“Does that internship pay you ahead of time?” He glanced up from his menu to meet your gaze.

“It doesn’t pay me at all.” Your brows furrowed. Where was he going with this? 

“Oh. You know I just thought it did, since you can afford Gucci, and what is that?” He asked referring to your wristlet “That’s a Valentino right? Oh and let’s not forget the Louboutin’s on your feet!” He was losing his cool now. 

“Eddy you’re gonna cause a scene. Lower your voice.” You hiss. 

Fortunately your waitress came over to distract him for a second. “Bonjour, je m'appelle Elise. Je serais heureux de te servir ce soir.” You knew Elise, but you had to act as if you didn’t. You hoped that when she looked away from her notepad, she wouldn’t recognize you.

“English please. I already told your host this.” He was already an ass, but now he was being plain rude. 

The peppy red-head looked up from her notes to examine him. Her doe-like eyes wide in terror that quickly turned into joy upon noticing you. 

“Y/N! It’s so nice to see you!” She looked around for a second before looking back to you, “Where is Mr Stark?” You held your breath at the mention of Tony. I guess Samual hadn’t warned Elise yet. 

“I am Mr. Stark.” Edward rudely inserted. You were relieved he didn’t realize the error, until he spoke again “Look. We’re not ready to order yet. So why don’t you come back later. Fuck off” He waved his hand in a dismissive behavior, before turning back to you.

You watched the girl bow her head before quickly retreating.“Why do you have to be such a fucking dick?” 

“What? Do you think I hurt your little friend’s feelings? Why did you act like you’ve never been here before.” His nostrils began to flare, as he sat up from his seat.

“I haven’t—.”

“Don’t fucking bullshit me Y/N. I heard him ask you about your usual spot on the roof. You must think I am an idiot.” He snarled. “I asked about it before reserving the restaurant. My point is that I know it costs more than your tiny bank account could hold. So what, did you plan on freeloading off of me and my dad, while your sugar daddy takes care of you too?”  

“Don’t speak to me like this.” You state through gritted teeth. Your eyes were starting to water from his interrogation, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. 

“Who pays for it? Hmm? Is it the same person who put those hickeys on your chest? Or is it the person who bought you that cheap ass bracelet.” Before you knew it, he grabbed your wrist to snatch off the Cartier bracelet Tony got you for valentine’s day. It meant the world to you, since he had the words ‘My heart belongs to you, T.S.’ engraved inside it.  You watched the jewels bounce and clatter on to the hard-wood floor. Rolling under feet and nearby tables. People were starting to look over, but you didn’t care. You also didn’t care about the tears that spilled from your eyes. 

Edward sat back in his chair, and rubbed a hand through his hair while acknowledging your tears. He coldly mocked these next words “What’s wrong. Can’t he afford to buy you a new one?” 

“Yea.” You said, voice shaking, while your eyes remained on the floor. You turned back to him to say, “Maybe if I fuck him good enough, he’ll get me an even prettier one.” His hands began to shake as you watched him go red in the face. He balled his palms into fists, knuckles turning white; a sharp contrast to his crimson fingers. He unexpectedly slammed them on the table, causing you to jump, and the conversations around you to cease. 

“Well maybe he should give you a ride back home while he’s at it, you fucking bitch!” He shouted, spit flying from his mouth. He got up to storm out of the door, pushing passed Elise who was coming back with your drinks. He left you embarrassed, without a way home, and alone. Oddly enough, you weren’t crying because of Edward. You were crying because you felt like you failed Tony.

————————————————————

You arrived home over four hours later, after hailing a taxi. You would have been home sooner, if you didn’t spend the night with Elise, Samuel, and the rest of the staff, insisting on helping them close. You partly helped to make up for the scene you and Edward had caused, and you also wanted to give Edward enough time to get home and go to bed. From the looks of it, he had made it there in just a little under an hour, because that’s when Tony started lighting your phone up. That’s why you stayed longer to wait for him to fall asleep as well. You were an even bigger idiot than Edward if you thought he would be asleep before you made it home. 

He was sitting on the staircase when you unlocked the door to come in. “Are you okay?” He asked, leaping up to stand before you. 

“Yea I’m good.” You respond, tiredly. 

“Good. Because I am fucking livid.” He said in a frantic tone. “What’s wrong with your phone?”

“Nothing. Where’s Edward?”

“He’s asleep. So why didn’t you answer you phone?”

“It died.” 

“Was that before, or after you turned it off? Because I know for a fact that’s what you did. That’s always your excuse when you don’t want to talk to someone.”

“Can we not do this tonight.” He grabbed your shoulders and bent down so that he could look you in your eyes. 

“I would prefer it if we did this now.”

“Well it’s not about what you fucking want all the time,” You snapped.

“Hey. That’s not fair.” Hurt was plastered on every inch of his face. You saw it, so you began to apologize. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice cracked, and you were about to cry again. “Tony I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live in this house with him anymore. I can’t live this lie any. more.” The tears spilled, and you couldn’t tell who was more hurt at this point, you or Tony. 

He pulled you into his chest, which muffled your sobs. “What am I supposed to say, when you get like this? I can’t bear seeing you cry, princess. What do I do?”

“Please just hold me. Don’t let me go.” You mewled. 

He pulled back to wipe away your tears with the backs of his thumb. “Now when have you ever known me to do something stupid.”

“Everyday.” You laugh. He tapped your nose and gave it a quick kiss, while still cupping your cheeks.

“Yeah, well besides then.” 

“Never.” You whispered. He stared into your eyes lovingly. You two stayed mesmerized in each other for longer than usual. 

“I love you, Y/N. I guess that goes without saying, but I thought you should know.” He confessed. Believe it or not, it was the first time. The two of you never had to say it, because you just felt it. Just knowing it, still wouldn’t beat hearing the actual words though. He had just made it fact in your heart. 

Speaking of your heart, it was beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings, threatening to leap from your chest at any second. The butterflies he gifted you quickly turned into elephants, that threatened to trample your insides, and replace the remains with Peruvian lilies.  Your cheeks were now hot to the touch, and your mouth searched for words that came out in random incoherent spouts.

Tony, suddenly overcome with unsureness started with, “Maybe this wasn’t the right time to—”

“No!” You shouted, “I love you too.” You cried, smiling before you stood on your toes to wrap your arms around him. His arms dropped to your sides, and he pulled you in by your shirt, latching his mouth on yours. This kiss was different from the rest. They all felt good, but this one felt better than them all combined. Taking in all of you, your scent, your taste, your feel, he felt spoiled. He grabbed at the sides of your face to deepen it, while you grabbed at the back of his neck. You both tried your hardest to get closer, but it may have not even been possible, since there was no space left between you. 

You were the first to pull back for air, while Tony still pecked at your lips, stealing wet kisses, that trailed from your mouth to your forehead. He peppered them over your eyelids, nose, and cheeks, desperate to cover every perimeter of the skin. 

You fluttered your eyes open when he was done, smiling up at him though your lashes. His chocolate brown orbs danced with more joy, than you had ever seen, and his pearly whites peered through his goofy grin. He eskimo kissed you, and rest his forehead against yours. You were happier than you had ever been. 

You both snapped your necks towards the sound behind you before you heard Edward say “I should have known it was you.” He, like his dad before, sat at the bottom of the staircase watching the both of you. You two were so wrapped up in each other, you didn’t even hear him walk down.

And just like that, your happiness left the chat. 

  A/N: Sooo... tell me what you think? Also, I proofread, but please let me know if you see any errors. Please like comment and share. To  @swaggysposts​ @scarletsoldierrr​ I am so sorry for posting so late, but I really hope you are still interested. Please tell me what you think!  PART 3 here