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tanzen-neko · 3 years

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All Along (Theo x MC)

All Along (Theo x MC) Chapter: 1/2

IkemenVampire

Warnings: No real warnings for this one besides a brief mention of vomit at the end, and a very frustrated Theo.

The pub was crowded and loud, but that didn’t stop Theo’s ability to hear her twinkling laugh over the raucous voices of the crowds. Posted at a table in the corner with his partner in crime Arthur, Theo was trying to ignore the overly sweet perfume of the two women hanging off of Arthur. He had no interest in the town harlots, despite having hooked up with the redhead in the past. Instead, all his attention was focused on a certain flush faced clumsy housekeeper who his dear brother Vincent casually had his arm thrown around as their heads brushed against each other’s during some private conversation. He snarled at the glass in his hand before slamming back the contents, the ice clinking against his teeth as he drained it. Always observant, Arthur’s eyebrows shot up at his friend’s display. Though Theo was a bit rough around the edges, he usually was not someone who was prone to public displays of anger. He searched the bar with his eyes to discover the source of his mate’s frustration, and once his eyes landed on a certain lady laughing freely with Theo’s older brother, he understood perfectly what was going on. Their darling resident and housekeeper _______had decided 2 days ago that instead of returning to her own time, she would stay here with the inhabitants of what she playfully dubbed “The Vampire House''. She claimed she had grown too attached to all of them, and the time period to leave. As a result, Arthur had insisted on taking her out to celebrate with himself, Vincent, and Theo. Of course, Theo had made it a point to state he couldn’t care less if she stayed or left, but Arthur knew his friend too well to believe him. His being at the pub was enough to show that. Arthur bit back a chuckle as he noticed that anytime she laughed or moved, Theo’s eyes were glued to her. He could lie as much to himself as he wanted to, but Arthur knew better.

“Dear ladies, if you would be so kind as to excuse me, and my mate here. I believe we need to refill our cups, and join the residents of our happy home,” he stated to the pouting ladies. Truth be told, he was growing weary of these two particular birds anyway. Instead, he had been eyeing a rather cute barmaid with very short hair and glasses who was keeping to herself in the corner of the bar cleaning the same pristine mug, almost ignoring the boisterous crowd.

Making sure to bow and kiss each of their cheeks to soothe any hurt feelings, he clapped Theo on the back, and practically dragged him along to the bar, and placed another drink order with the gruff man behind the counter, shooting a wink to the barmaid who rolled her eyes and made it a point to turn her back to him in response. He smiled lazily at her antics. What a stubborn cutie. As they waited, he let his eyes casually drift over to the merry party.

“She’s really wormed her way into all of their hearts, hasn’t she?” he asked. Theo didn’t respond. Arthur tried to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible.

Though I’m glad she decided to stay, I can’t help but believe she stayed behind for someone. What say you, mate?” Theo finally rose to the bait. He turned on Arthur with a snarl.

“What the hell does it matter to me that she and Vincent have decided to couple up? If he wants a filthy mutt, then that’s on him. It’s none of my concern.” Arthur held back the exasperated chuckle that threatened to come out of his throat.

“You really believe she’s staying for him?” he asked in disbelief.

“Well it sure as hell ain’t me,” Theo growled out. “The little idiot’s petrified of me.”

The words burned in Theo’s mouth, but he forced them out. It was the truth, anyway. She had been afraid of him since day one. Whenever he had spoken to her, she would look everywhere else but at him. When he had encountered her in a room alone, she would wring her hands like a cornered animal. Any jokes, or teasing he made were met with wide eyes, and stuttering. So he had decided to leave her alone. Even though just watching her go about her day was enough to cause his heart to clench up. Or listening to her hum and laugh made his day all the less dreary. She had captured his heart before he had even known he had one. Ignoring the pang in his heart, he tapped his fingers impatiently on the counter. Arthur took mercy on his friend, but he couldn’t help but let out a sigh. When would Theo learn? Instead, when the bartender brought the drinks, he scooped Theo’s up before he could grab it.

“What the hell, Arthur?”

“Now, now Theo. We need to join our friends. You may be in a foul mood, but I think they would appreciate our company.”

Ignoring his protests, Arthur strolled over to the table, and smiled at the greetings. Plopping in the seat next to Vincent, he placed Theo’s drink across the table, and let out a chuckle at his friend’s scowl. He grabbed his drink up and downed it, loving the burn that seared down his throat. It was almost torture for Theo to be seated across from her, and not look into her smiling face. His foot brushed against hers, and he saw her jump. He caught her eye for a second before she looked down at her empty glass.

“Everything ok, pet?” Arthur asked. Theo held back his jealousy. She wasn’t Arthur’s pet. She was his Hondje. He held back his eye roll as she flashed Arthur one of her beautiful smiles.

“Nothing, Arthur. My cup’s just empty. I’ll go get another.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Vincent, already standing up. She flashed him a grateful smile, as they made their way up to the bar, Theo’s chest humming with envy.

It was about an hour later, and it was clear that _________ had finally reached her limit. Her mouth seemed stuck in a perpetual smile, and her words were slightly slurred. Her laugh had become louder, and at one point, her head had dropped to Vincent’s shoulder. Theo felt the snarl coming to his face, almost bit through his lip to hold it back. He had never felt more sure of their relationship than he was in the moment. He pushed down the sadness that threatened him, and abruptly stood up. He missed the glance between Arthur and Vincent, however.

“That’s a right idea, mate. I’m sure we would all appreciate you getting her home safely,” he said.

Theo turned to him, flabbergasted. “I’m not taking her home! Why can’t you or Vincent?”

Arthur clucked his teeth. “‘Fraid not, dear. Vincent here promised me a night out, and I intend to keep him on that. Plus, I want to try my luck with that icy barmaid. It’s been a while since I saw…such delicious fresh blood around here. Besides, you seem to be on your way out anyway.”

Theo turned to Vincent for help, but quickly lost hope. His brother was looking up at him with his bright eyes, and that pleading smile he knew he couldn’t say no to. Knowing he was defeated, he let out a sigh.

“You have 5 minutes to get her outside. I’ll be there waiting.” Without waiting for an answer, he stormed outside. In truth, his heart was pounding, and the cold wind felt amazing on his hot face. He thought about flagging down a carriage, but quickly ditched the idea. The rolling motion may upset the little idiot’s stomach. It had nothing to do with the fact he didn’t know how he would react to being in an intimate space with her. Especially now that she was his brother’s. So he would play the polite gentleman whom his brother had entrusted with his beloved. He heard rather than saw ________ exit the front of the door. Trying to nonchalantly turn to see her, he grit his teeth at the intimate picture she completed with Vincent. The lanterns from the entrance seemed to weave themselves through her hair, and light her eyes on fire. Vincent was whispering something to her that must have upset her because she began to gnaw at her fingernail in a blatant display of uncertainty. Unable to help himself, Theo felt a fond feeling swept through his heart even if it was flavored heavily with bitterness at the pretty picture the two people he loved most in the world made together. He supposed if he knew of anyone who was worthy of Hondje, it was Vincent. The sweet man would dote on her, and treat her like the princess she was. Someone like Theo was too gruff; too rough to know how to handle something as precious as spun glass. Even as he told himself this, he couldn’t stop the lifting of his lip to bare a single fang as if that would chase Vincent away. He was instantly filled with shame, and turned his face away, not wanting to be caught prying into a clearly intimate moment. In a second, he heard the clacking sound of her low heeled boots as she raced towards him. The smell of her sweat hitting Theo’s sensitive nose made his head swim. He desperately wanted to get close enough to try and lick up her neck, to taste the skin that held back her distracting pulse. She came up beside him, and after throwing one last glance back at Vincent finally turning to him.

“Thanks for taking me home, Theo. I know you probably wanted to stay out with Vincent and Arthur. Sorry to inconvenience you.” She mumbled it all out without once glancing at his face. Instead, it felt like she was going to burn a hole through the lining of his jacket. Theo waved a hand at her apology.

“If you were that concerned with it Hondje, you wouldn’t have gotten drunk. Let’s go home before it gets cold out.” Without waiting for a response, Theo turned and began walking. And if he walked at a slower pace to make sure she could keep up, well he wouldn’t admit it. It wasn’t long, however, before he could tell she wasn’t doing too well with the walking. Feeling irritation with his stubbornness about renting a carriage, he stopped walking to glance around. Due to the late hour, he didn’t see any unoccupied carriages. he cursed underneath his breath, and felt __________ sway by his side.

“Theo? Is everything ok?” Her sweet voice washed over him, and he felt the urge to ask her to say his name again. He turned around, his back to her.

“You’re walking too slow,” he grumbled as he squatted down. She still hesitated, staring at him with those wide, wide eyes.

“Are you sure I won’t be too heavy?” she asked. When he let out a growl in response, she let out a chuckle before almost indulgently grasping around his shoulders. Theo felt himself almost shudder at the feel of her body against his back. The feel of her breasts pressed against him. He grabbed her thighs and brought her legs around his waist, making sure she was still properly covered by her dress. He knew he was being too protective, but the thought of anyone getting a glance at her shapely legs made him clinch his jaw. Unable to stop the shaking of his hands, he prayed she was too drunk to feel it. Those prayers must have been answered because instead of commenting, she just murmured something too low for him to hear and gripped around him closer. Theo began walking faster than necessary. He was sure he was jarring her, but if he had to continue to walk with her scent swirling around him like this any longer, he was bound to lose it. She didn’t seem to mind his pace, however. In fact, it seemed to be lulling her into a relaxed state. She nuzzled into his neck sleepily. Theo didn’t even have to look at her to know that her eyes would be closed as well. He was constantly impressed by her ability to sleep anywhere, and he couldn’t smother down the surge of emotion he felt at her display of trust. He had meant what he said to Arthur earlier; she never seemed to be at peace around him. So for her to sleep like this must be due to the alcohol. Still, Theo would convince himself otherwise, if just for tonight. Before he knew it, her soft snores brushed against his ear. Theo almost let out a sigh of disappointment when he saw the front of the mansion. Not sure how to go about grabbing his key without setting her down, he leaned forward so most of her weight was on top of him. Unable to reach his own pockets, he fumbled with her skirt, trying his hardest not to touch her too much. Still, just the fact that he was touching her skirt and petticoats got his heart racing. Mercifully, he was able to get her key out and the front door opened. Shifting her around again, he went back to carrying her on his back and made his way to her bedroom. The lamps were turned down low in the hallways, and he could hear the soft sound of piano music drifting through the silence. Any other time he would pause to appreciate Mozart’s playing, but right now he was a man on a mission. ________ began to stir and wake up, so he murmured nonsensical soothing words. Belatedly, he realized she was already awake.

“Theo? Where are we?” She squirmed on his back, and he stopped with a sigh to let her down. He tried to put on an air of annoyance, but her sleepy countenance ruined it quickly for him. Her eyes seemed so heavy lidded with sleepiness, and her yawns were cute. He wanted to ruffle her hair like always. He wanted to pull her into his arms and pepper her face with kisses until she rested against him and fell back asleep. He made a disapproving sound in his throat, more at himself than at her.

“Bout time you woke up Hondje. Didn’t know I was a delivery service.” Her embarrassed apology fell on deaf ears as he continued to guide her down the hallway. They had reached her room, and he was reluctant to enter. But he was even more reluctant to not make sure she was resting in bed with how wobbly her steps were. So against his better judgement, he opened her door and shoved her inside. He closed the door behind them, and turned on the small lamp on her vanity. The room was painted in soft lights. She stood in the middle of the room where he led her, swaying back and forth gently as if on a boat. Theo felt a grudge against Arthur growing. Where did he get off letting Hondje drink so much? Just because he was a lush didn't mean he had to turn a mere pup into one. He folded down her comforter and fluffed up her pillow. The bed smelt wholly of her and the rose water perfume she washed her clothing in. Theo rubbed his nose, as if to remove the scent that was binding his senses. First things first, he would get her in bed. Then he would bang his head against a wall until he stopped lusting over his brother's girlfriend.

“Hey pup, come over here,” he called. She did so with a docile and sweet expression on her face, and he fought the urge to tell her ‘good girl’ with a head pat. To occupy his hands and resist temptation, he made her sit down on her bed, and began working on unlacing her ankle boots for her. He was able to get one off before she started twisting.

“Oi, what the hell are you doing?” he snapped before looking up. He let out a strangled choke. ________ was in the process of trying to remove her top. She had managed to get all of the buttons undone on her blouse before he grabbed her to try and stop her. Her white chemise and corset were visible, and it took all of his self control to direct his eyes away.

“What are you doing?” he repeated, at a loss for words.

“It’s hot, Theo,” she complained. She gave up on her top since he was gripping her shoulders, so she tried to reach behind her to get to the hooks of her skirt. It was true that it was warm in her room. Her forehead glistened with the fine sheen of sweat.

“Alright, alright. I’ll figure something out. Just, just sit down and stop stripping, for god’s sake!” She pouted at him, but sat back down on her bed. He shot her one last look to make sure her hands were staying still before he opened up the large window by her bed. The soft noise of the city was carried in on a light breeze. She seemed content with that for the moment, turning her head towards it with a small smile. Theo was able to finally remove her other shoe.

“Mmmm. Theo, my stockings too please.”

Theo’s warning bells went off in his head. This was dangerous territory, and he shouldn’t venture into it. Even if the intention was innocent. What he should do was stand up, and leave. He bit his bottom lip. ________ grew impatient with his hesitancy.

“Theo, my stockings!” she whined.

“Hondje, remind me to never let you drink again. You become quite a spoiled thing,” he fussed. The bitter thought that he would love to be the one to pamper her crossed his mind, but he stuffed it down. He would never forgive himself if he ever showed any ill will towards Vincent’s happiness. He also promised to take proper care of her tonight, as well. So he breathed deeply, and slid his hand up one trim leg to grip the stocking that just grazed the top of her knee. He pulled it down a tad faster than he should have. _______ startled and began falling forward a bit. To stop herself from falling, she draped her arms over his shoulders and made a noise of discontent.

“Theo, not so rough. My ankle!”

Theo felt instant regret. Gently removing her stocking over her foot, he examined her ankle in the low light. It felt so small and dainty in his hand. He felt a sudden urge to press a kiss to it. He set her leg down.

“It looks ok. I’ll go slower so sit still and no squirming.” She made a small “hmph” noise, but otherwise stayed still. Theo held back the smirk at her poutiness, not wanting to encourage her. He made quick but gentle work of the other stocking, unable to resist rubbing her ankles gently where her stockings had left indents. He tsk’d disapprovingly, and made a mental note to have Vincent help her pick out thinner ones. She sighed before leaning towards him.

“Theo,” she whispered. He made a small noise to let her know he was listening, still intent on her ankles.

“Theo,” she repeated, sliding herself off the bed and half on top of his lap. Theo fell backwards.

“Woah, woah Hondje. What the hell!” He knew he needed to move, but the closeness of her had caught him off guard. This wasn’t like a piggyback ride. She was almost straddling, stockingless and practically undressed.

Just push her off, Theo. Push her off and get the hell out of here. She’ll be fine.

As if reading his thoughts, her grip on him tightened, and she moved her face closer in his line of vision.

“Hey, Theo. I think I’m gonna’ be sick.”

Before Theo could even process her statement or move, she threw up down the front of his shirt and jacket.

#Ikemen Vampire #ikemen vampire theo

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atinybitofau · 5 years

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S A N ⇾ office au

THE TYPICAL BOSS AND ASSISTANT LOVE STORY

a/n: my god this took so loooonggggggg. hope ya’ll ready for this omg. sorry guys, reposted for the cut.

• was it wrong for you to drool over your hot as fuck boss?

• absolutely not.

• not when every other single woman in the company does it.

• you also hate that one of these women managed to snag your position as his assistant the moment he upheld his promise to you.

• in becoming marketing director.

• the days seeing him going by so long, you actually think you’re getting withdrawals.

• “Well well well, look what the cat dragged in.”

• you sneer at Seonghwa when he enters the lounge room.

• a room made by your boss himself.

• who’d rather spoil his employees,

• than have them hate him.

• but you still kind of do.

• “Seonghwa, don’t you have- I don’t know. A company to run?”

• the man loosens his tie and joins you at the love seat. “San invited me to talk numbers, babe. Don’t act like you aren’t happy to see me.”

• you roll your eyes. “I’m clearly ecstatic.”

• Seonghwa chuckles at your response and let’s you leisure for a little in your thoughts.

• see Seonghwa was kind of different from San.

• in a sense that,

• he belittled a lot of his workers.

• to make clear his intentions at work.

• as a deserving entrepreneur.

• also one who was locked down with a ring.

• married to your best friend of course.

• “Hyemi tells me you’re tired of work.”

• you laugh in a half hearted way. “Wonder why she says that.”

• little bitch always has to rat you out.

• “Now I might be wrong but she made it seem like you hate San more than you used to. At least, considering you didn’t hate him at all. In fact, I remember you were head over heels for him. Just doting every check in your crush book.”

• you glare at Seonghwa. “See. That’s why I refused to make a speech at your wedding. You two are out to get me.”

• “Forgive me.” he chuckles at your defense. “But you know the teasing can’t be helped with you. You always find a way to fierce an insult back.”

• “Obviously if you aren’t offended by them, they aren’t insults.”

• “Honestly y/n. Lighten up. You can tell me what you’ve been stressing about too you know.”

• stressing?

• what’s really been stressing you?

• like watching the notorious playboy crush of yours get all touchy touchy with your replacement?

• or the work he forgets to bring you sometimes.

• like,

• did you really not make an impact in his life?

• were you really just one of those single women he knew liked him?

• now that’s a stress.

• “So? What is it?”

• you turn to Seonghwa eyebrows furrowed and eyes wide in curiousness. “Call me crazy but I think I miss being San’s reputationless assistant.”

• Seonghwa snorts. “You can’t be serious.”

• “I’m 100 percent serious, Hwa. Before you got married to Hyemi, I was so happy with pairing you two together, you know? Cause she’s a diamond in the rough. She stands out.”

• “Your point is?”

• “Do I not stand out?”

• “Y/n…”

• Seonghwa realizes,

• not sure why you hadn’t,

• that you were in love with San.

• that it wasn’t just a menial office crush anymore.

• “Wouldn’t being his marketing director be more of an upgrade? You shouldn’t be looking at his assistant with those kind of eyes. You deserve your position. Regardless of San’s um lack thereof…”

• you two speak like he wouldn’t be able to hear you.

• as if his building isn’t hooked up to audio perceptive cameras.

• as if he wasn’t listening to the entire conversation.

• whoops.

• he was.

• “Jane? Get me y/n. And tell her it’s urgent.”

• San saw you as you were.

• a gorgeous and independent woman.

• who deserved the promotion he had given you.

• a woman who appealed to every check mark in his own book.

• dotting out the possibilities.

• even the one he’d refuse anyday.

• the possibility to settle down that is.

• “You wanted to see me, Mr. Choi?”

• you walk in and your voice is as velvet as ever.

• your outfit a reflection of the woman you really are.

• only of his dreams.

• “Yes please take a seat. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

• you were nervous.

• he’s never called out to you before.

• “Did I do something wrong, sir?”

• “No.” he smiles innocently at you hands folded over his desk. “Actually, I need a favor.”

• you have enough favors you had agreed to commit too.

• a tower of paperwork on your desk.

• “O-okay. Sure.”

• “I need you to accompany me to Beijing this weekend.”

• you deadpan. “Sir?”

• he lightly chuckles,

• staring like an idiot because he missed seeing you as often as he used to.

• “My partners in discussion are spending the weekend there on a retreat. It’s a canny way for us business exec’s to make our bite. As marketing director, I’m sure you know how important that is.”

• course it was…

• just,

• “Shouldn’t your assistant be accompanying you?”

• “Yes. But I would like you to come along. After all, Seonghwa’s already half bitten by you anyway.”

• Seonghwa’s excited about it.

• your best friend having the decency of telling him your plans of joining her husband’s retreat on Saturday.

• but you weren’t.

• weren’t because you were now forced to watch San flirt with his assistant.

• all the way to China.

• “One dry martini please. You know what, make it three.”

• you face plant the counter as you let exhaustion take over.

• the sight of watching your long time crush flirt with another woman not sitting as easy as alcohol would.

• “Well well well look who we have here.”

• you mentally note to murder your best friend’s husband the next time things are on your side.

• whipping around with a vicious glare you say, “Seonghwa would you leave me the fuck alone?”

• your anger falters when you see your smirking boss beside him,

• wearing causal clothes and blatant amusement.

• “Now that’s no way you should speak to your higher ups, y/n. You know better.”

• you narrow a secret glare to the devil himself before bowing to San in apology.

• “Please excuse my language. It’s the only language Seonghwa understands unfortunately. That and I’m off the clock so I’m just gonna-“

• you stand up to find another spot at the empty bar until San justs you in.

• “No, y/n. Please stay. You should join two old friends. We sometimes have nothing to talk about and I’m sure you’ve got plenty of topics.”

• plenty, Seonghwa mouths to you.

• when San turns around you show him a finger of disapproval.

• and a side glare of disgust.

• “Your dry martini, Miss.”

• “Please add it to my tab.” San slips his card to the bartender smoothly. like he’s done it a hundred times before. “I’ll pay for her drinks from here on.”

• “S-San, you don’t need to do that.”

• “San?”

• Seonghwa’s smirking.

• thinking his wife was right.

• that you always seem to find a way to do other people’s work for them.

• “Oh crap, I MEAN— shit. No wait.”

• San chuckles at the fluster and you chug down your drink.

• hoping this all fades away to obscurity tomorrow.

• “First topic.” Seonghwa starts after sipping his whiskey. “We should praise y/n for everything she’s done. I mean, with everything on her plate I’m sure joining us today was a set back.”

• you prick your teeth in annoyance.

• praying Seonghwa would take a god damn hint once in a while.

• “She’s always been more leisure than business to me.” San admits. “Thank you for coming, y/n. I really appreciate it.”

• you forget that you’re a light weight.

• already chugging three martini’s.

• dry.

• “You should really thank your assistant. After all without her, you wouldn’t be here really.”

• both men choke on their drinks.

• shocked by your brutal remark.

• “Excuse me?”

• “I mean, really.” you turn in your chair and hiccup. “Your assistant’s got everything. Your work load, your time schedule, your attention. If not for her, you wouldn’t be this successful.”

• San’s jaw clenches.

• and Seonghwa’s sitting there completely amused.

• teeth showing in awe.

• “Please continue.”

• “Hyung, she’s drunk.”

• Oh, Seonghwa and you both know you really aren’t.

• but he’ll go with it anyway.

• “Listen for once, San. She’s not just an employee of yours, you know.”

• their secret convo is interrupted with your not-so-drunk continuation.

• “L-like. She’s even got the looks! Gets your things ready and of course you’ll give her what she deserves. All those subtle compliments about her skirt that practically rides up her ass.”

• he doesn’t exactly know how to react.

• but he hears you out.

• “And come on, Mr. Choi. You aren’t fooling anybody. We all know what you really need an assistant for.”

• Seonghwa snickers.

• loving this more than he should right now.

• “And what’s that, ms. y/l/n?”

• you grab your bag to leave.

• “You should ask your assistant. Since you couldn’t stop praising almost every little thing about the crap job she does.”

• San stands to chase after you but Seonghwa holds him down.

• “Fucking hell, hyung. Let me go and tell that little—“

• “You know y/n’s in love with you right?”

• he stops.

• staring at his old friend in disbelief.

• “Yeah? Well it doesn’t fucking sound like it.”

• “Cycle back on what she said about you, dumbass. Now think. Was she really ridiculing your lifestyle? Or was she really just trying to get your bloody attention you fool.”

• San sprints.

• not wanting to justify himself this time around.

• but wanting to confess.

• he wants to tell you that you aren’t what you think you just are—

• his old assistant he wanted to replace.

• God no.

• he’s been wanting you back at your desk since the day he signed your new contract.

• that you were once a good friend of his before you stopped.

• not knowing you stopped casually speaking to him because of his new assistant in the first place.

• but he’s been wanting to settle down honestly.

• the chances it be with you sounding pretty damn good after hearing what Seonghwa had to say.

• “Y/n, would you wait!”

• you whip around suddenly not feeling drunk at all,

• martini’s not your best problem solver.

• one that hit strong but settled poorly.

• “You got anything more to add? Maybe that I should be fired for my honesty? Please, Mr. Choi, by all means, if that’s what you’ve been dying to do since day one, you should’ve done that instead of giving me a crap excuse being your marketing director.”

• he’s a little taken aback he must admit.

• thinking you were drunk more than sober enough to argue.

• “Weren’t you drunk just a couple minutes ago?”

• you blink away, swallowing down the last of the intoxication. “Martini’s don’t last too long in my system unfortunately. Just like me to you.”

• he hates the analogy more than he should.

• cause it’s true that you didn’t last long to him.

• though,

• now he’s willing to change his mind.

• he narrows his eyes towering over you like the big executive he is before asking, “If my new assistant bothered you so much, why didn’t you just tell me you wanted your old position back?”

• your heart feels like it’s running in circles.

• racing when unnecessary.

• and falling when when unwanted.

• “Mr. Choi, please correct if I’m wrong, but you intentionally put me as your marketing director because the last one left in terms of finding a better boss. And you replaced me easily after it, sure. And at once, by your side, I thought you had been the smartest man in the game but hell— you really are the dumbest CEO I know.”

• he grimaces before saying, “Were you really drunk just now or were you just trying to get your thoughts across the table without trying to hurt my feelings?”

• there’s fire in his eyes when he asks you.

• feeling torn between hating you and falling more for you than he expected to be.

• there’s a brief silence in you before you retort, “I might have been a little out of my comfort zone drinking those martini’s. But as of right now sir I’m pretty clear on the things I’m saying and the consequences they might have.”

• he’s never once doubted you.

• thought you were a diamond in the rough.

• always stood out.

• always knew how to get his attention.

• right now not being an exception.

• “Then tell me.” he sterns closer to you now that you’re both passed comfort level. “Since you’re so clear on things, what bothers you the most?”

• you stare at him.

• longingly.

• because you’ve spoken to San on more casual occasions than you think.

• more than just a boss in the past,

• this man used to be your friend.

• that though you two were boss and assistant,

• you two fell in love with each other without knowing.

• and here you thought he was just your plain office crush.

• “Maybe..” you pause to make sure you’re completely clear on your thoughts. “Knowing that I was falling for you when you weren’t for me? That.. maybe that’s what bothers me the most.”

• San’s torn again.

• but this time,

• between kissing you and telling you he’s falling for you too.

• “You know better than anyone, y/n, I don’t dwell on fickle romances.”

• your noses touch,

• and you think you can feel his heart beat against your chest.

• “But I stopped knowing you the moment you stopped knowing me.”

• he decides right then to kiss you first.

• wanting things to get cleared before they get past uncomfortable.

• you frown against his kiss.

• thinking it’s half hearted and unimpactful.

• while pushing him away you warn him by saying, “Don’t..”

• and now he feels desperate.

• like the women that pine over for him.

• the way he kind of does for you actually.

• “San, don’t do this because you feel sorry for me.”

• “I’m not.” he almost whines when you reject. “I want.. I want this. Y/n, you aren’t my assistant anymore.”

• you sigh, “I think we’ve made that statement understood by now.”

• “No, you don’t understand. I need you.” he corrects himself hands himself your hips. “My assistant can be many things to me. Helpful at work. Doing the work I should be doing for me too. You know that.”

• your lips taste like the martini’s.

• hoping you are what you say are when you say aren’t drunk.

• so his thoughts go across as clear as you say yours are to you.

• “Where are you going with this, Choi San?”

• “Coordinate me. Out of work.” he insists this time making sure you don’t get away. “No contract necessary. Just… I want you to coordinate me while we date. Pull my strings the way you did at work once before.”

• maybe you are drunk.

• that you’re hallucinating Choi San asking you on a date— multiple.

• “I’m not good at this settling down thing, y/n.” he takes your hands and interlaces it with his. “And you know better than anyone, how to fix my mistakes, don’t you?”

• you’ve always been his favorite.

• despite knowing you were replaced,

• you never did forget that.

• “And what’s my compensation for this look like, Mr. Choi?”

• San sighs in relief.

• also remembering that you were once not only his assistant,

• but the woman he only ever needed.

• “If it lasts long in both our systems, hopefully a ring.”

• now who could pass up that kind of promotion?

@atinybitofau

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nowis-scales · 4 years

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Hoshido Royal Family Headcanons

I love the Hoshido royal family. Thus, I think about them a lot. As a result, I thought it might be fun to compile a list of varying headcanons for them! The list consists of eight characters total: Sumeragi, Ikona, Mikoto, Ryoma, Hinoka, Corrin, Takumi, and Sakura. I’ll admit I was tempted to throw Kiragi and Shiro in there, but the post was getting really long... So you’ll see some headcanons about them another day. Same thing for Azura — I want to do some for her with the Nohr siblings! For now, though, I hope you will enjoy the list I have compiled!

Oh! And real quick: trigger warning for implied/referenced suicide, under the final bullet point for the 2nd character. Please refrain from subjecting yourself to anything that might hurt you, and stay safe!

Sumeragi:

‣ Despite having trained and worked to be king since childhood, Sumeragi could never say that he really liked the position much. He certainly didn’t mind it, but... Sometimes he wondered if he was born into the wrong family. There were several occasions throughout his youth where he would sneak out to do normal kid/teenager stuff. This often got him into some very hot water with his parents, who didn’t understand his desperation for normalcy.

‣ He loved to show off. As a child and as an adult. He loved to show off most while fighting, particularly if he was fighting in front of women (Ikona and Mikoto, while they didn’t get along all that well, could both laugh at the theatrics he did for them). Once he started his family, though, that was his new favourite thing to show off. Every time he had a new baby, he would bring it to Shirasagi Castle Town the first chance he got. He liked to make sure that everybody could see and appreciate the new princes and princesses. This created a bit of a trend in the town where the royal children get doted on whenever they come visit.

‣ He was fond of the sword even as a child. There were definitely options presented for other weapons, but one look at Raijinto and he... did not want to use anything but the sword. It was very much a “gimme” situation. He actually got to know Ikona due to the fact that she came from a samurai family, and her background with the sword interested him.

‣ His favourite thing to eat when he was alive was unagi. He didn’t really care how it was prepared; he just always found it delicious. Ikona, Mikoto, and most of his children did not share his passion for the dish... except for Hinoka. He used to joke that that’s how they knew for sure that she was his daughter.

‣ His ‘type’ as a young man were sweet, sort of ditzy girls. Though he was betrothed to Ikona from a young age, that didn’t stop him from trying to have some... fun while growing up. Prior to their marriage, he and Fuga used to visit the Red Light District in an attempt to pick up women. It usually didn’t go too well for them, as Sumeragi tended to pick fights with sleazy brothel owners, but there were a few who admired his bravado.

‣ Totally terrible with numbers. Seriously. He was a counts-on-his-fingers kind of person. The worst part is that he pretended to be good with them, even though everyone could tell that he had no goddamn idea what he was doing. His parents tried to get him mathematics tutors when he was still young, but even they thought that he might just be a lost cause. It was such a relief for him when he interviewed Yukimura for his position and found out that the man was at least decent with numbers. Such a huge weight off his shoulders, that was.

‣ Part of what made him such a beloved king came from the fact that he was a people person. Super sociable, good-humored, and genuinely loved being with others. Plus, he also happened to be more of an extrovert, so he felt as if he gained energy from being around others. Being around him was just a win-win situation for everybody. He made you feel good in his company, and you felt good in his company.

‣ Sumeragi wanted lots of kids from the get-go. He himself grew up in a large family (three older sisters, two younger brothers), and wanted to have a similar experience of bonding between his own children that he had with his siblings. Unfortunately, as he grew up, his relationships with most of his own siblings were sullied — charming disputes over the crown being the cause. Still, he kept in good contact with his youngest sister Kazuno, and his eldest younger brother Hiromitsu.

‣ He was actually a huge softie. A lot of people thought that he might be somewhat stern, but it was more of a mask than anything. He was actually pretty sensitive and cried a lot. He cried every time one of his children was born, as well as the first time Corrin called him “Papa”. He cried when he married Mikoto, too. He even cried after Ikona passed, in spite of their troubles. And for the very brief time that he was left alive, able only to hear the sounds of Corrin screaming for Ryoma and Ryoma begging him to get up, he cried then too. Not that anybody could really notice it.

Ikona:

‣ Absolutely did not want to be apart of the royal family. She’d been betrothed to Sumeragi from a young age, but tried and failed repeatedly to weasel out of the marriage. Her dream growing up was to be some sort of court musician rather than a queen. She had no mind for politics, but she loved to play the koto. Though she never did get to pursue her dream, she did choose to play the koto into adulthood. She tried to teach Hinoka, and was disappointed to find that she didn’t care for it. If she knew that Sakura plays, she’d have been over the moon.

‣ Being apart of the monarchy changed Ikona as a person. Though she must have seemed that way as the queen, she was not a harsh woman. If anything, she was a bit like Takumi. Kind enough, but altogether had a tendency to hold a grudge. She was also a bit like Ryoma in the sense that she knew how to manipulate people to get what she wanted. She didn’t care to do it, but sometimes, that was what it took to stay afloat in a court she hated.

‣ A hopeless romantic. Loved to read romance novels, even wrote a few as young girl (although she would tell you herself that they were not very good). Her favourite trope in writing was childhood friends to lovers, on account of her being in love with her own childhood best friend... A young man named Takumi Kawagishi, whom everyone tended to refer to as “Gishi”. She wrote letters to him all of her life. He reciprocated her affection, but could never be with her on account of her marriage to Sumeragi. There was... even a brief period where Sumeragi thought that Takumi could have been Gishi’s son, rather than his.

‣ She resented Sumeragi for trapping her in an unwanted marriage. As much as he tried to have a relationship with her and make her love him, she refused to budge. Their relationship did not improve until Ryoma was born, and even that took Ikona briefly considering suffocating her newborn babe just to get back at Sumeragi. Thankfully for the kingdom and baby Ryoma, she realized how much she actually cared for him and how wrong it would be to hurt him just to hurt her husband. From then on, she vowed to love him... which in turn facilitated things with Sumeragi, for they finally had something to agree on. They both loved their son very much.

‣ She hated the way she looked in colours like yellow and orange. She had red hair like Hinoka, and thought the colours looked atrocious when paired with it. Sometimes, she even felt pink was pushing it. As a result, she liked to ask for cool coloured kimonos. She particularly liked the way she looked in sky blue. It was the colour that she felt prettiest in.

‣ Ikona had a harsh opinion of the Nohrians. Her father had been involved in the Hoshidan military for years before finally retiring, and had lost a brother to the Nohrian army. Thus, she didn’t trust them very much and thought them warmongers like most Hoshidans did. Interestingly, the reasoning behind her eventual marriage to Sumeragi was for them to gain his family’s favour again. Her own elder brother, Taiga, sold out the Hoshidans to the Nohrians about important military plans. He was tossed out of the country, and the Asano family scrambled to make amends by offering Ikona up as a bride for Sumeragi. Ikona had been under the impression that not much would become of it, but was surprised to learn that of his suitors, she was the one he wanted.

‣ In spite of technically being a noblewoman, she did not need much to be satisfied. She wasn’t so fascinated by the idea of being rich. In fact, back when she lived with her own family, she loved to spend time with the servants. They taught her how to cook, clean and sew. They would even sometimes gather around to listen to little koto concerts, and make requests. She missed them greatly after going to Castle Shirasagi, and struggled to connect in the same way with the staff there.

‣ Came from a samurai family, but was not a samurai. If she had it her way on the battlefield, she’d probably have been a shrine maiden. She much preferred healing people to actually getting into fights. If she had to, though, she would probably go for onmyoji. She probably had a preference for the rabbit and the snake spirits.

‣ Very good at remembering people’s names. Nobles, commoners, and servants alike were often baffled by how well she remembered people’s names. If she didn’t remember your name, she was most definitely insulting you. If she knew your name one day, and then forgot it the next... then something you did pissed her off, and you needed to figure out what the hell it was before things got worse.

‣ Ikona’s death occurred by non-natural causes. After Mikoto’s arrival, she felt increasingly isolated from the rest of her family. She was already struggling with post-partum depression after the birth of Sakura, and ended up fighting with Sumeragi a lot as a result. Ultimately, though, Ryoma and Hinoka are the ones who blame themselves for her death. The two had caught her during an argument with their father in which she claimed that she had never wanted them in the first place, and that it was he who pushed her into it. She knew she had grown to love them, but hearing such horrible words from their mother broke their hearts. When she tried to apologize to them for what she said, they refused. The two were horrified upon her death, and needed extensive comfort and caretaking afterwards. It was a horribly dark period in their lives. They both still feel guilty even as adults, but will not talk to anyone about it. Not even each other.

Mikoto:

‣ She was very good at appearing all calm and serene and stuff, but she... was not. She never was. Perhaps when she was young, maybe, but not in Hoshido. Raising Sumeragi’s children was the most rewarding and yet most stressful things she’d ever done in her life. She found herself constantly at odds with Ryoma as a teenager, and then fretted about his tendency to overwork himself as an adult. Hinoka spent most of their time together adamant about getting under her skin however she could, because she had coped with the loss of Ikona so poorly. She found Takumi to be sweet, but incredibly brittle, and like Ryoma, she worried about him a lot. They spent a lot of time together trying to work on his self-esteem issues. As for Sakura, well, she was not much of a headache, but someone so sweet...? Mikoto felt determined to protect her from the big, harsh world.

‣ If any of her outfits had pockets in them, you bet your butt she found a way to sneak sweets in there. Even if she didn’t have any, she would find somewhere to hide them. Her sweet tooth was uncontrollable and she tried to manage it at every single turn. Thankfully, this also meant that if anyone was ever sad, she always had a sweet to offer to make them feel better. (Saizo the Fourth, were he still alive, would tell anyone of how she kept offering him sweets after particularly rough missions.)

‣ Not much of a drinker. For a long time, people would offer her drinks, but she would usually only drink them to be polite. There is nobody, apart from her sister and Yukimura, who have ever seen her drunk. Even then, they’re not entirely sure if it was real or if they hallucinated it. She’s a bit of a loud drunk, but very affectionate and wise. If you ever want life lessons without judgement, ask drunk Mikoto.

‣ Birds were her favourite animal. I’m not talking like kinshi birds (although she did think that they are gorgeously majestic, and begged Reina for a few rides on hers), but your typical cute chirpy ones. She used to have one as a pet when she was a teenager that she’d nursed back to health; it was a little finch. It died just as tensions began to grow. The finch’s name was Yue.

‣ Could not stand being talked over. That definitely turned some heads when she first started working as queen in Hoshido. Many of her male advisors did not take kindly to her interrupting the sentence they’d just started after they interrupted her, especially because it was just to tell them that she wasn’t finished. The bonus was that while Yukimura and Ryoma both did it initially, they eventually got to the point where they would cut people off, saying: “Excuse me, but Queen Mikoto had not finished speaking.”

‣ Liked spiders. She was actually never the type of person to kill them, but tried to make sure they got put outside safely. Most of the time, people were rather respectful of her intent to try and protect life where she could. The only person who couldn’t understand it was actually Yukimura, who would let her, but felt god awful and shivered as he watched her take it onto her hand. She’d sheepishly admit that she did used to antagonize him with them a bit.

‣ Missed her parents deeply. They both died long before the events of the main story, but not a day went by that she didn’t miss them. It was even harder having to live in Hoshido and never speak of them, but she would write little letters to them telling them about the events of her life. She would do the same for Corrin while she was gone. Really, though, it stung her heart to see her step-children to be living without their own parents. She sympathized with how they felt, and more than anything tried to be a good mother figure to them for that reason.

‣ Her love language was quality time. If you wanted Mikoto to know that you loved her, the best bet would be trying to spend quality time together. It could be tricky sometimes as she was very caught up with running the country, but she and her family managed. Sometimes she would even manage to have full-on conversations with them while working that made her feel like her day would be just a bit better.

‣ Hummed to herself. If she was walking around or doing anything in the day absent-mindedly, she’d usually start humming a little tune. The problem with it is that she annoyed herself with it. She didn’t like that she did it, and thus slowly grew aggravated with herself for sitting there and humming all the time. She did this since even in childhood, and her sister found it to be absolutely hilarious. Mikoto herself didn’t find it funny at all.

‣ A total busy bee, but not for any cute reasons. She often piled herself with work, sometimes just busy work, for the sake of getting her mind off of her dead and missing family. If she let herself think about them for too long, she would slip into a dark mood. It would often leave her unable to do much for days on end, where Yukimura and Ryoma would end up shouldering most of the burden. Sometimes, she wouldn’t even be able to get to sleep. She was just that distraught.

Ryoma:

‣ A scream-sneezer. For some reason feels the need to yell at some god forsaken volume as he’s sneezing. He makes Sakura jump every time. He’s definitely tried to make his sneeze a lot smaller and more princely, but that just usually ends in him managing to blow snot everywhere. As he deems this significantly worse than scaring everyone in the room, he’s decided that perhaps he’ll just have to stick with his frightening sneeze.

‣ Hates his long hair. Hates it. Secretly prays throughout Revelation’s whole campaign that someone will try to mess with him in a fit of xenophobia and just chop it short while he’s sleeping or something. He’s expected to keep it long for reasons have to do with both religion and being of royal blood, but he doesn’t want to. (He lets Shiro keep his hair short even after revealing him as the next crown prince for this reason — he is 100% living vicariously through his son.)

‣ If he weren’t a prince, he’d make for a pretty good writer. He grew up writing bedtime stories for his younger siblings, so he has a bit of practice. As an adult, though, he mostly writes for himself. Little tales of missions and adventures he’s been on, to keep them as memories. It’s why he’s so skilled at putting thoughts to paper when it comes to his wife.

‣ Ryoma is incredibly dense about romance. He can only tell his own feelings for other people; he doesn’t seem to register when other people are pining for each other or when someone likes him. He was surprised when he was young to learn that his father was harboring a crush on Mikoto. He was even more surprised when Saizo and Kagero kissed in front of him for the first time when they were dating, because what do you mean you’ve been obvious?! I haven’t noticed a thing!!

‣ Actively skirted around royal duties as heir by having a nervous breakdown. Technically, he was supposed to take over from Mikoto a long time ago. However, after his genpuku ceremony at age fourteen, he had a huge breakdown over becoming ruler. The advisors were so concerned that they had to postpone it until Ryoma felt he was ready, and as the story tells us... that wasn’t for a long time. He also managed to get out of political marriage and heir-conceiving due to everyone worrying he’d freak out again. He’s both embarrassed that it happened, and extremely grateful that things turned out the way they did.

‣ He doesn’t really show it so obviously due to his own struggle to express himself and let his guard down, but he really likes to nurture others and see them become the best versions of themselves. That’s why he took to Azura so quickly — he wanted to do anything he could to make her happy and feel as if she had a full life.

‣ Grinds his teeth. It appears to be mostly in response to frustrations, but others have noticed him doing it in times of anxiety. It’s sort of grating to listen to him do. Orochi likes to joke that all of that jaw clenching and grinding is why he has such a strong jawline. He... doesn’t really find that joke funny.

‣ While he is not so great with kids over the age of like... ten, he’s so good with babies. He has no idea why and neither does anybody else, but babies just adore him. If you hand him one, they will probably snuggle right up against his chest and fall asleep. Either that, or he’ll find some sort of way to make them laugh. Listen. We just don’t question the logistics of Ryoma’s effect on babies. They just love him, okay?

‣ Treats Raijinto almost as a comfort object. He forced himself to give up his own comfort objects when Sumeragi died (deciding that he needed to be more mature with his father gone), and thus ended up becoming very protective of Raijinto when it became his own. Generally doesn’t like other people touching it, and prefers to keep it at his side most of the time.

‣ Constantly has chapped skin in the wintertime. He’s too busy to ever really think about monitoring it himself, so it often results in Sakura taking him aside to slather him in all of her balms to make sure that he’s not itchy or in pain. Otherwise, the skin will usually end up cracking, and his chapped hands will get blood on important documents. It certainly sends a message, but not always the one the royals are hoping for.

‣ He actually has a bad leg from an injury he sustained that day in Cheve. It doesn’t affect him all that much physically, but it’s definitely noticeable if he’s worked it too hard. Some think that one of the arrows meant for Sumeragi missed and lodged itself in his leg. Others speculate that he tried to defend Corrin against Garon, and was fired upon to ensure that he wouldn’t try to interfere with the kidnapping. Nobody, not even Mikoto or his siblings, knows for sure how it happened. Just that he came home injured, and spent a decent amount of time trying to overcome and recover from that injury. If you ask him what happened, he won’t tell you.

Hinoka:

‣ Secretly, she’s a big old snuggle bug. Loves to cuddle. Family, friends, lovers, it doesn’t matter. Hinoka enjoys a good snuggle more than anything. Her primary snuggle buddy is Sakura, but when she was really little, she tended to curl up with her mother the most.

‣ Her pegasus’s name is Bashira. As expected of a pegasus rider, Hinoka is incredibly fond of her, often referring to her as her “best friend” and talking about her as if she were a person. Sometimes, she’ll even dress her up for holidays or special events.

‣ Even as a child, Hinoka was always pretty athletic. She loved to race and wrestle and all of that. Of course, she was still very much a crybaby. Sometimes she would cry crocodile tears if she was bested, but most of the time she would cry if she’d been bonked a little too hard or jerked around too quickly. These interactions tended to distract people from the fact that the little princess was even engaging in rough-and-tumble games at all.

‣ She likes to take walks alone in the forest sometimes to be alone with her thoughts. She finds she can get really get caught up in the rhythm of training and working to do her duties, and that she doesn’t think so much for herself. So she tries to take the time alone every once in awhile to ponder on life. It’s comforting to watch the world around her move.

‣ Very prone to nosebleeds. Nobody’s really sure why. She’s bitter about it because it doesn’t really happen much to her siblings. What’s worse is that it tends to ruin her white clothes! She doesn’t usually feel it coming until her nose starts dripping. Often has tissues with her when she goes on missions to help clean herself up.

‣ When Hinoka hits, she hits hard. She once slapped Ryoma so hard he had a hand-shaped welt on his face for two days. He was so impressed he couldn’t hold it against her. He also learned not to torment her after that, as did many others who thought it would be funny to antagonize the red-headed princess. The comments about her being an unfit warrior mysteriously tapered off...

‣ Due to all of her missions, she has a lot of scars. On the surface she tries to act as if she’s not self-conscious over them, but in truth, she feels a little awkward about them. Especially since so many men in Hoshido preach Saizo’s narrative, in which women must remain “delicate”. She worries what people might think of her as a princess who has so many markings. Often, she tries balms and creams to try and fade them.

‣ Can curl her tongue. None of her other siblings can do it. She lords it over them like some sort of mysterious power. She’s so damn cocky about it that she almost always curls her tongue when she sticks it out at them, just to piss them off. It always works.

‣ Allergic to fish eggs/roe. Or perhaps it’s not allergic so much as intolerant. Usually ends up with a migraine and an upset stomach, but refuses to eat them at all costs. Sometimes will claim that she is deathly allergic to them just to make sure she doesn’t have to eat them.

‣ Worries that after the war/after Corrin comes home that she won’t know who she is anymore. She’s dedicated her whole life to being a soldier and fighting that she doesn’t know what she’ll do with herself when that is no longer necessary. Sometimes, she even worries that maybe she’s really only half a person. Usually, when she gets into one of these moods, there is very little anyone can do to talk her out of it. They simply have to wait and trust that Hinoka will find her own way to realize that even without being a soldier, she can still be human.

Corrin:

‣ The most ticklish of all of her siblings. Not that she wants you to know that. When she was little, Sumeragi would tickle her sides until she squealed. It sometimes resulted in her kneeing him in the groin by accident as she tried to get away. He tried not to mind terribly.

‣ Likes rainy days. Since she could never go outside much at all, she loved to sit in the fortress and watch the rain fall. Rainy days were most definitely days with no training; she would curl up with a good book and some cookies to enjoy herself. Now that she can get out, though, she loves to dance in the rain. Sometimes she’ll even drag the other members of the army out to prance around with her. She’s so good-spirited that pretty much everyone obliges.

‣ Has a mole just like Mikoto’s! Well, maybe not exactly... It’s not on her face. It’s actually on her back of all places, towards her left shoulder blade. Naturally, it’s covered up most of the time. When she was little and visible, though, Camilla used to kiss it to make her giggle. If you do it now, she still does.

‣ Has a bizarre amount of hobbies. All of that time spent in the fortress gave her lots of time to try and practice different things, so she’s full of activities. Her favourites were playing the piano, painting, reading, and embroidery. Should anyone want to learn any of these things, she’s always happy to lend a hand.

‣ Constantly fighting with her hair. It’s super fluffy and requires a lot of attention. If she could recall her childhood, she would find a myriad of memories of squawking as Mikoto tried to brush her hair. It’s very prone to tangles, and thus her mother would braid it before she went to sleep. It’s a habit she ended up continuing into adulthood, having Felicia braid it for her.

‣ Full of restless energy. It both is and isn’t Fortress life talking. When she was a little girl, she spent a lot of time zooming around the castle and its grounds, keeping her nurse maids from having much of a break. She was especially fond of impromptu games of hide and seek, as well as tag. It’s... a bit of a game she keeps into adulthood, too. Most people find her energy so cute that they can’t help but play with her, knowing she’ll get back to work as soon as it’s done.

‣ Struggles to sit in a proper position in a chair for more than half an hour. She’ll usually end up contorting her body in some strange way. This occurs so, so often in war meetings. The others have tried to tell her that it’s inappropriate for an event like that, but they can only ever get her back into a proper position for more than fifteen minutes before she’s back to sitting all funny. Her Nohrian siblings have completely given up, but the Hoshidan siblings try to politely remind her on how to sit (despite knowing it’s a fruitless endeavour.)

‣ Heavy sleeper. Like a rock. Why do you think Flora and Felicia have to wake her up with their ice powers every morning? Without them there, a bucket of cold water would struggle to wake this girl from her rest. What’s worse is that she also likes to nap, but if you need her for something... well, bring one of the maids with you. Otherwise, you’re going to have to beat her with a pillow to get her to wake up. And even then, there’s no promise. Sometimes, people can’t wake Corrin and they honestly think she’s dead.

‣ Sings in the bath. Both made-up songs and ones she’s heard before. One she’s been singing since childhood is something she named “The Bubble Song”, that consists mostly of the lyrics “Bubbly bubble bath, bubble bubble, gonna brew up some... bubble trouble”. Hilariously, this song has caught on with anyone she bathed with as a child. Ryoma used to sing it to Takumi and Sakura when he’d help them bathe as kids. Silas has been known to sing it when bathing as well, but as a grown adult.

‣ Agonizes over losing her memory. She hates herself for having lost it, and has had a few breakdowns from trying to force herself to remember. If she gets especially angry about it, she’ll sit there angrily pounding her fists against her head and screaming at herself to figure things out. She knows it causes others to think that’s she unstable, but she gets so angry about it sometimes that she doesn’t have it within herself to care. She just... wants to remember her life.

Takumi:

‣ In spite of his humiliation at Ryoma’s hands years back, Takumi does like to use a sword sometimes. Not usually for battle, only really in training, but he likes the feeling of a blade. He just finds he prefers a bow overall, though.

‣ One of those people who is just always hot. He totally holds his heat, and often complains throughout the summer months about how hot it is. Alternatively, though, he’s pretty comfortable in the winter. His siblings sometimes even use him as a human heater when they get cold.

‣ If not in the company of his family, Takumi likes to curse a lot. He knows it’s not princely behaviour, but he doesn’t care. He mostly does it in the company of Hinata and Oboro, but every once in awhile he’ll let one slip around his siblings. If it’s going to be any of them, though, it’s going to be around Hinoka or Corrin. Rarely ever Azura or Ryoma, and absolutely never around Sakura.

‣ Takumi actually kind of enjoys being sick. He definitely doesn’t like being rendered incapable of doing basic things, or feeling like trash, but... he does kind of like to be fussed over. There’s something nice about being the center of his family’s attention for once.

‣ He is not aware of this, but he was named after Ikona’s lover prior to her marriage to Sumeragi. Given that she could not be with him but was still attached, Ikona gave him his name. Only Ikona and Sumeragi know where his name really came from, and Sumeragi was less than pleased to find out later.

‣ Likes to pretend that he can handle spicy food. He cannot. You could dare this boy to eat a spoonful of wasabi, and he would do it, but the end result wouldn’t be pretty. His whole face turns bright red, and there are tears streaming from his eyes, and he holds his mouth like he’s sucking on a lemon. Even with that whole production, though, you can never get him to admit defeat. The spice doesn’t defeat Takumi. Takumi defeats the spice.

‣ Do not begin a sentence when speaking to him with “no offence”. He always takes offence. Always. He doesn’t know why people start conversations like that because it’s almost always something rude and uncalled for. It’s one of his biggest pet peeves, and it would just be better for both of you if you didn’t say stuff like that.

‣ Has very good hygiene and always smells nice. He tries to bathe every night, and washes his hair every other day with that schedule in mind. If one had to try and categorize Takumi’s scent, it would probably be a mix between morning dew and oranges. There were many women in Hoshido who used to swoon over him based on the way he smelled alone.

‣ Like a true December baby, Takumi loves the snow. When he was little he’d beg his nursemaids to go outside for some time to play in it. Even as he grew older, he’d wrestle his siblings and friends out of their plans for the day to go spend some time outside in the cold. There were many snowball fights, as well as a whole bunch of wrestling. By the end of their outside time, they would usually end up piled on top of one another in a big dog pile. If you get him vulnerable enough, he might even confess that he loves the snow because it gives him more family time. His siblings, retainers, and other friends are all busy people, and he wants to spend as much time with them as he can.

‣ His nightmares almost always revolve around losing someone important to him. In spite of not remembering Sumeragi and Ikona well, he finds himself dreaming of them regularly. Mikoto is also someone he dreams of a lot, usually of her death and his inability to do anything to save her. If the dream is really bad, he’ll dream of losing people who are still alive — Garon slicing Ryoma’s throat, Nohrian archers shooting Hinoka down from the sky, a commander snapping Sakura’s neck like it’s nothing. He often wakes up screaming and scares the others awake, and needs all kinds of comfort to even think about falling asleep again.

Sakura:

‣ Sakura is the member of the family who gives illnesses to everyone else. She’s the carrier. She will have a slight sniffle for two days, and then be fine — because she passed it onto the rest of the family, who will have a huge cold for two weeks. She’s always very sorry about it, and brings them warm soup every time it happens.

‣ Has the softest skin known to man. Nobody knows why this girl just has like... baby soft skin, but she’s always been like that. Holding her hand is an excellent experience because of it. Once she starts using a bow, she’s a little disappointed that she starts developing callouses on her hands, as they ruin the softness.

‣ Sweets thief! Well, not so much now that she’s older, but when she was little it was a huge thing. She used to sneak sweets from the kitchen a lot. If she were asked to count on her fingers how many times Mikoto caught her with sticky hands and a sugary face, she probably couldn’t. She’s a bit embarrassed by the memories, but everyone else finds it charmingly cute.

‣ She has dimples! For the most part she’s pretty shy about them, but everyone else thinks they’re really cute. Her siblings sometimes go out of their way to make her smile just so they can see them. Sumeragi loved them the most.

‣ Believe it or not, she has a favourite proverb! It’s “Even monkeys fall from trees”, which is basically just another way of saying that anyone can make a mistake. Given that Sakura is such a compassionate person, it comes as no surprise to everyone that this is her favourite. She wants to give people a fair chance, and doesn’t want to hold their mistakes against them (assuming that they genuinely are mistakes).

‣ Thrives off of other people’s happiness. She loves to people watch in Shirasagi Castle Town to see if she can spot anyone who is out having a good time. Little kids getting a treat for good behaviour are definitely one of her favourite types of happiness to spot, but she also loves seeing shy young couples on first dates. Getting to see her country’s people so happy gives her the spirit she needs to keep doing her healing work.

‣ Has really strong nails, for some reason? Nobody’s exactly sure why her nails are so deathly strong, but she needs help trimming them. Mikoto would usually help her manage that, but sometimes she’d get Takumi’s help if Mikoto was busy.

‣ You probably could not get her to admit it, but she likes the smell of freshly blown-out candles. She doesn’t quite like the scent of fire, but she sort of enjoys the smokiness that comes from a flame that has just been put out. For some reason finds her love of the scent embarrassing.

‣ Still a bit scared of the dark, even at her age. Her childhood fear of the Nohrians coming back for her led her to fear them wandering around in the dark, and thus she finds it unsettling. Depending on the hour at which she has to go the bathroom at night, she’ll ask Ryoma to escort her (if it’s earlier, as he’s usually awake anyway) or prod a sibling into wakefulness to take her (if it’s later).

‣ Tends to rehearse the things she says before she says them. Especially in war meanings, but also sometimes in regular conversation. She’s very concerned about saying the wrong thing and making a bad impression, so she feels like the constant rehearsal is the only way to ensure that she’s not going to cause any kind of trouble.

‣ So soft-hearted that she cries for her own family without them knowing. At night when trying to sleep, she can often think herself into horrible moods about her family’s pain. She can lay there for hours sobbing quietly to herself over the various ways that they’re hurting, even if they don’t want to acknowledge it themselves. She cries for Ryoma, who agonizes over being good enough for everyone. She cries for Hinoka, who has been a soldier all her life and may never get to fully experience that sense of normalcy. She cries for Takumi, who just wants to be noticed for once and feel like he is actually genuinely loved. She cries for Azura, who has been taken from home to home to home in a vain effort to fight other people’s battles. She cries for Mikoto who lost her child, for Corrin who lost her family, for Sumeragi and Ikona who lost their lives... Sakura cries for everyone.

#feel free to block if I’m bothering you in the fe tag #fire emblem fates #hoshido #fe 14 #fe ryoma #fe Hinoka #fe takumi #fe sakura #fire emblem #suicide tw #tw suicide #fe headcanons #queen ikona #king Sumeragi #queen Mikoto #fe corrin

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a-libra-writes · 4 years

Text

SFW Alphabet - Alfie Solomons

i love ... this man ......... and this isnt just my thirst talking ok this was a request

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Alfie is very open and easy with affection once you both are alone, especially in your shared home. You’ll have his fingers brushing some of your hair aside, his hand on your waist or several kisses on your cheek and neck, all while you’re trying to actually get something done. It just comes naturally to him. When you’re out and about, he likes having your arms linked and keeping you close. Even before you two were properly an item, he couldn’t resist leaving lingering touches on your back and

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

The way you met him was certainly interesting. You were walking your favorite part when a big, slobbery dog waltzed up and decided he was content to follow you. You were able to ask around and bring him back to Alfie, who took you to lunch right there. After that you began seeing him more and more frequently at the park, and you wondered why he was suddenly so interested in being there.

When you were friends, he didn’t even hint at what he did for a living. He was excellent at keeping up the charade of being a fairly normal person, and he was far more interested in you, anyway. It was easy to keep a friendship with such a charismatic and easy-going man, even when he was flustering you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He doesn’t always have the patience to sit back and just cuddle, but when it happens, Alfie likes running his hands down your back and petting your hair. He has to have something else in his hand, like a book, since he can get antsy from being so still. The way you curl up and nuzzle into him is adorable, though. When you’re cuddling in bed, he’ll call Cyril up and laugh when the dog promptly sits on you or slobbers on your face.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

It was hard to imagine a “domestic” future before he met you, Alfie never seriously considered it happening. The more time he spends with you, the more he starts liking the idea of a comfortable, safe home and having a deeper relationship. He’d play it off, of course, but come on - he bought the house for you, stopped by frequently enough that you just told him to stay, started to bring Cyril by so the dog could “protect” you while he was away … it was pretty obvious. This feeling just gets more intense once you two are talking marriage, and once you’re actually married.... Well, let’s just say, you didn’t expect this gangster, bear of a man to be so devoted and caring. It’s adorable how much he likes referring to you as his wife.

Not terribly surprising, he’s actually a good baker and he can make a variety of other foods. Alfie doesn’t actually like it unless he’s cooking with you. If he comes home and you’re in the kitchen, he’ll clean up and get to work helping you.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Alfie would be very blunt and cold in order to get you away as soon as possible. He’d try to avoid showing his own emotions, would hope you’d learn to stay away from dangerous men like him.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Alfie is actually very committed once he’s in a relationship, but even without one, he isn’t a man to spend too much time messing around with women. You never know what they’re listening to or who they could be working for, after all, and he doesn’t appreciate distraction from work.

For marriage, he’d be fine without it. Yes, it would be something the neighborhood would gossip about, but who would really say anything to your face? He’d discuss the matter if you were interested, especially if you were pregnant, but other than that, it isn’t something he sees as essential. It would be especially irksome if you were a gentile, since you’d have to consider conversion, and he isn’t about to force you to do anything for his sake.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Alfie is aware of his strength, so whenever he holds you or picks you up, he’s more careful than not. You think it’s adorable, but often remind him that you aren’t fragile. He’s more willing to be rougher and let himself go when you’re intimate.

This carefulness definitely doesn’t extend to his speech. He tries to be emotionally considerate of you, but he’s also ridiculously forthright with his opinions. Calling him out doesn’t mean he’ll stop, either, it just means he’ll find a different way to word it.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Alfie loves being close to you. There’s no such thing as a light hug - unless you’re in front of his men or something - and he totally engulfs you in his big arms. He’ll even lean in and sway a little, maybe too hard just so you’ll stumble and he can catch you. If you’re alone you’ll absolutely get several kisses on your cheek and neck. If you two have been apart for some time, don’t expect to leave his embrace anytime soon.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

His hesitancy on admitting it to himself - not just saying it to you - would come from Alfie secretly worrying that you should be with someone else. Someone safer, more “normal”. Even if your devotion was obvious, he’d be be anxious about you being in danger from his many enemies. However…

He’d probably just end up saying it without thinking, or you’d say it first and his mouth would answer before his brain could catch up. Once it’s all said and done, though, he feels relieved, and a little foolish for waiting for so long.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

His absolute confidence in himself and trust in you means that it takes a lot for Alfie Solomons to get actually jealous. It helps that most men know his reputation and your relationship, and wouldn’t dare try to come between you. It’s more likely that Alfie would get annoyed by some catcaller or man who doesn’t know him, and you’d recognize the look on his face when he lost his patience. The end result would be a thorough verbal dressing down … or just a cane to the face.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Alfie has all sorts of kisses to give you, but most frequent are the firm ones he gives while he holds you. He’ll give them to your lips, your brow, down your neck and to your collarbone - and further, if you’ll let him. His lighter ones are when he happens to be passing by you to get something, he just can’t resist, and when you’re more intimate, he likes planting them on your stomach and thighs. The spots that make you giggle or gasp are the ones he prioritizes, because of course. It’s okay if you’re busy and you need to shoo him away during one of his very affectionate moods.

He likes any affection you give in return, but the favorites are when you feverishly kiss his chest and shoulders while you both are making love. He likes how your lips feel especially warm, even against his flushed skin.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Some may be surprised by how well he gets along with children, even if he’s too foul-mouthed by far. Alfie’s patience comes in handy with the very young ones, and his silly faces and beard come in handy to make them smile. For older children, he’s good at setting them straight and talking to them like adults, which makes them respect him.

He’s noticeably gentler and more permissive of girls and stricter of boys; this is especially true of any children you have together. While he’d be doting most of the time, he’d make a point to bring them up to be respectful and well-educated. And by that time, he wouldn’t want them involved with his business at all. He’d rather just sell it all and get out of town with you and the little ones.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He’s a morning person through and through, getting up on time each morning to wash up and eat a proper meal before getting to the business of the day. You’ll wake up to the smells of a delicious breakfast, which he’s already cooking, or it’ll be on the table for you if he had to leave. Alfie tries to be there when you wake up, but if you’re a late sleeper he’ll wake you up briefly for a goodbye kiss. If you’re more of an early riser, he likes having you get ready with him, even if he won’t stop distracting you with light kisses and teasing spanks.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Due to the nature of his business, he’s usually out at odd hours. He at least tries to send word if he’ll be late so you don’t worry. When he gets home at a reasonable hour, Alfie relishes in slowly winding down with you. You’ll put on a record, mix some drinks and you both can sit and cuddle while talking about this or that. Sometimes Alfie is feeling more antsy and wants to take you out to a nice place to eat.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Alfie is a very open book. Almost anything you ask, he’ll answer, although if it has to do with his “business” he’ll start spinning yarns. It’s worth noting he expects the same openness with you, but he’s also very good at picking up your tells and figuring things out without you saying anything.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He has a lot of patience with you specifically. It takes a lot for him to actually raise his voice against you, and he doesn’t enjoy a moment of it. It would take even more for him to actually grab you, and he’d regret it as soon as he did it. He’s more likely to try reasoning with you and bring you to his side.

Now, his patience for idiots under his command or anyone else disrespecting you? Nope. The ones leaving with missing teeth are lucky.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

You figured out how good his memory was fairly quickly. Alfie downplays it, but you really only have to show a preference for something or tell him something once. This is especially true if the thing is important to you. He knows what you like and how you like certain things - you forget just how well Alfie knows you until you come home and find the house clean, with everything in its place, and all your things where you want them. This is the same if you two visit a hotel; how on earth did he get the staff to deliver the soap you use?

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

It’s technically a string of moments, but the beginning of your relationship is something Alfie likes to recall fondly. Technically, you two weren’t even dating; it was just a friendship with plenty of flirtations you both pretended not to notice. You hadn’t known Alfie’s full reputation then, you just knew him as a friendly and mischievous older man that liked making you blush. You found out eventually of course, and while you never judged him, Alfie still liked those months of easy flirting and tip-toeing.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He was protective even before you fully understood who he was and what his business was, and once you both were an established couple, that only extended into over protectiveness. You know Alfie means well, but you aren’t always comfortable with the guns he keeps in the house and how he insisted on you learning how to use them. If you weren’t comfortable with that, he’d at least want to teach you something about knives. You always feel safe in his presence, and you can tell when he’s scanning a crowd or gently guiding you to stand behind him. He’d much, much rather protect you himself, but there are times when he’s sent men to guard your house or place of work.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Alfie puts lots of effort into things like this, and it’s sweet every time. Since he knows what you like, he’s great at making holidays and your birthday feel very special. Nothing is too good for his girl, after all; even if you like things less fancy, he has to put a nice spin on it, like a beautiful park that’s been freshly snowed on or a fairly isolated beach with stunning clear water. If you wanted a puppy or kitten, it’d have to be a specific breed you talked about, even if it was hard to get. Even during regular days, Alfie might come home with a fancy dessert or something you like; just because he saw it and he thought of you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

His absolute worst habit is how secretive he can be, and how unwilling he is to involve you in the shadier aspects of his business - which is to say, most of it. You understand he doesn’t want to get you in danger, but being left in the dark for days, wondering if he’s safe isn’t good for your nerves. He also tends to think he knows what’s best for you, especially when it comes to your safety, and he’ll spend an hour trying to talk you in or out of something. Sometimes Alfie will do what he pleases even after you both have discussed it. You’ve definitely called him out on this behavior several times, but Alfie still believes he’s in the right.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He may not care about his physical appearance, but he does care about being clean and decently put together, especially when he isn’t elbow-deep in work. If his business gets him dirty and bloody, he’ll absolutely clean up before coming home, because he doesn’t want to bring that shit to your doorstep. He’s very amused and flattered when you compliment him, and he’ll make a point to wear things you’ve bought when you both go out.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Alfie would deny such a thing to his men and especially himself, but he’d feel a distinct emptiness that he hadn’t felt in a long time. The feeling wasn’t welcome at all, and he’d be noticeably more sullen and short-tempered to anyone who knows him. Alfie wouldn’t want to talk about you, and anyone so much as saying your name was risking a beating. His attitude would be even worse if something had happened to you, or worse, led to your death. His good humor would be almost entirely gone, and you wouldn’t be a topic of discussion, period.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Alfie is a through and through polyglot. You thought he just knew this or that of several languages, but nope, he can speak a handful fluently. If you speak one he doesn’t know, he loves listening to it and is quick to pick up what you teach him. He’d even study on his own just to surprise you later. He’d speak it with a heavy accent, but his earnestness would just be so cute. If you’re more comfortable speaking your native tongue over English, then he’d make a point to speak it as well when he addresses you. And, yes, this means talking dirty and being mischievous in front of people who can’t speak it. Cheeky.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

The big guy sleeps soundly and likes falling asleep with you curled up in his arms, but eventually he’ll loosen his grip and shift off to the side. He doesn’t move as much if you’re tangled up with him or snuggled up to his back. As much as he loves having you so close, sometimes he wakes up feeling like a furnace, so he gently scoots you a bit further down the bed. … Then wake up with you snuggled right on top of him again. It’s a 50/50 for who moved back first.

#alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders #sfw alphabet

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avengemebuckyy · 4 years

Text

Be Careful

Summary:

You tell Bucky to be careful with your heart. Too late he realizes you should have been careful with his.

or:

You’re awkward,odd, and not the most conventionally attractive yet you’re the only woman that Bucky sees

Warnings: manipulation

Authors note: Back from the dead lmao. This is probably trash but I just needed to force myself to finish something it order to try to get back in the groove! Feedback is more than greatly appreciated, it’s what keeps me writing tbh...

PS. You ain’t shit in this lmao

---

You weren’t the most eye-catching. You didn’t look like the girls Bucky used to chase after in his younger years, or the girls on the internet he’d find himself staring at once he’d discovered Instagram, endlessly scrolling through picture after picture, lost in a sea of beautiful bodies and faces. You didn’t look like the tall slim blonde agent he’d always make a point to hold open the door for, or his neighbor’s daughter in Wakanda, who had had dark skin so smooth and a face so perfect he’d never managed to say more than two words to her.

You were slightly awkward, with a slightly odd sense of humor, always cracking jokes that sometimes no one laughed at but you. But you didn’t care, you would laugh at them all the same. You wore baggy clothes, and not the fashionable baggy kind either. Your favorite outfit was baggy camo print cargo pants and an old grey band t-shirt, logo so faded it was almost impossible to decipher.

At first Bucky didn’t pay you much attention. He wasn’t rude, but he treated you with the same gruff stoicism he treated everyone with. Well everyone besides Sam, Steve, and Natasha. Besides he only saw you rarely, you were a high level agent thanks to your skill, but you didn’t work closely with the team very often. Until you did.

One mission with Clint was all it took to have your name thrust forward when Fury was looking to fill a coordinator position. Suddenly you were everywhere. Coordinating their positions on missions, even going on missions with different members of the team. You fit in well with the team, your corny jokes and generally happy disposition make you easy to like. Your apartment was five minutes away, thanks to Tony, so you would often eat breakfast with the team and stay at the Tower well into the night, often crashing in a room designated for you, also thanks to Tony.

You were like a deceptively shallow river Bucky would think after. One minute he was wading through your shallows, next moment he was being taken under by your currents, realizing too late that he was in deeper than he thought possible.

It started slowly, you would make an effort to make conversation with Bucky, never seeming off put by his non answers. Bucky found himself coming to you with numerous questions on how to work social media, you would give such long winded explanations he wouldn’t have to embarrass himself with asking questions. Soon he found himself seeking you out for more than explanations. Funny thing is you were the one who introduced him to Instagram, to the beautiful women on the app but eventually he found himself unable to see any woman but you.

Bucky found himself sitting with you at lunch, looking out the window in the mornings waiting to catch sight of your army green jacket. He’d sit with you in the afternoons as you did your paperwork, steal glances at you ,your forehead always shiny by midday with an almost ever-present patch of acne, eyebrows scrunched together as you filled out mission reports. He loved those quiet moments the most. Bucky wasn’t good with words, not anymore. But he would help carry the 10 pound boxes of paperwork, always bring an extra pen in case yours ran out of ink, and constantly would bring you your favorite Starbucks order. He secretly hoped that you would read the affection behind his actions.

You didn’t usually go to Stark’s parties, you’d rather go to bars and clubs with your friends.

“The crowd at Stark’s parties just aren’t my crowd,” you’d explained with a shrug, toeing the floor with your scuffed sneakers. Bucky had nodded in understanding. They usually weren’t his crowd either, but he’d always go to support Steve, who was pretty much expected to show face.

But for some reason you show up to this party. Four months into your blossoming friendship (and Bucky’s crush). Bucky wasn’t prepared for what you were wearing. When he heard the agents whispering about your unexpected appearance at the party he half expected to see you in jeans and a t- shirt. Or even your cargo pants. At the sound of your name Bucky zeros into the muttered conversation.

“Did you see her?”

“Yeah, damn.”

“Was not expecting that. Or her to even show up. Who knew?”

“She’s kinda hot, not gonna lie. In a weird way”

Bucky turns his head scanning the crowd, heart rate already picking up, fully expecting to see your sweat-pant clad form. He sees you alright. But not in sweatpants. A red dress barely covers your figure. Hemline way above the halfway mark of your thighs and twin slits in the skirt reaching up to your hips. A draping halter neck ties at your neck and completely exposes your back and gives a generous view of your tits. He catches flashes of the curve of your ass as you walk.

In hindsight the dress was totally in line with your character. You didn’t dress the way you did because you were ashamed of your body but rather because you didn’t give a fuck. Your hair is pinned up, one perfect curl escaping your updo and kissing your neck. Bucky feels his heart stop. He spies numerous heads turning as you languidly weave through the crowd in dangerously thin stilettos. You cozy up to one of your agent friends and the two of you drink, giggle, and dance. Bucky can’t take his eyes off of you.

When you head to the balcony he follows.

“Hey,” you say when you spy his shadow darkening the entrance to the balcony.

“Hey,” he gruffs, in a tone he fears is too quiet. But looking at the curve of your exposed back suddenly has his voice dying in his throat. You turn back to looking at the city skyline. Bucky steps forward next to you. Close. Closer than he’s ever been to you, painfully aware of your arms brushing. He can’t fully feel your skin through the long sleeve button down he’s wearing but the touch sets him on fire all the same.

“Needed some air. “ He eventually grumbles. Trying not to stare at your profile. You look at him then, wearing a sly expression he had never seen on you.

“I’m sure you did,”

After that it doesn’t take long for Bucky to gather up the courage after that. Maybe it’s the way you had looked at him on the balcony or the way both male and female agents were sniffing around you at the party. All the same about a week later Bucky finds himself heading to your office in the afternoon as usual, but this time holding a bouquet of flowers.

Afterwards Bucky falls in love with you hard and fast. He finds himself doting on you, taking you out, bringing you flowers and other tokens of his affection. He hears the whispers, it’s almost impossible not to with his super soldier hearing.

“How’d she’d get him,”

“What an odd couple,”

“The Winter Soldier’s with cargo pants?”

But he still holds your hand in public all the same. Stops in the middle of training recruits to kiss you whenever you happen to cut across the gym all the same. Keeps a picture of you in his wallet all the same.

Bucky has never felt this amount of care and comfort from a person since...ever, even before, in his other life. You put his boots by the heater in the winter when he sleeps over so his feet won’t freeze when he walks to the compound. You listen to him, even when he’s angry, raging at nothing, or when he’s sad and sullen, taking minute long pauses in between sentences. Or even when he wants to do nothing but sit in silence and hold you. You especially listen when his words come fast, tinged with self hatred. You reassure him, holding him like he’s fine china. After many late night musings you give him with the best present he’s ever gotten, an impossibly soft kitten who’s uncharacteristically loud purr always grounds him. Bucky finds himself able to open up with you in a way he can’t with anyone else, even Steve. Bucky’s not good with words anymore, but with you he’s amazing. He can’t stop singing your praises, lavishing you with sweet words and adoration.

In hindsight it was a warning.

“Sweetheart, your wallet must be screamin’ for mercy, with you buying this cake nearly everyday,” Bucky says pinching off a piece of the lemon pound cake which is almost always at the corner of your desk. He recognizes the cake from a bakery across the street, and knows its nearly four dollars a slice. You stretch cracking your back, nipples poking through your shirt. Your ever present band shirt had breathed its last breath, and this new shirt is thinner and cropped, and hugs your body closer.

“Not really, I don’t buy it, Tommy hooks me up” you say, shooting him a smile and then returning back to your paperwork.

“Tommy?” Bucky says, and unbidden hot jealousy sears through his chest at the mention of your coworker “He’s always buying you these?”

“Yeah,” you answer, not looking up, and Bucky tells himself to remain calm, unbothered.

He doesn’t.

Later after the subsequent fight and make up Bucky holds you as the two of you sit on his bed.

“I’m sorry,” He says again.

“It’s alright,” you say and somehow your simple words draw the truth out of him.

“I’m just...I- I’m afraid of losing you.”

“I’m afraid of losing you too,” you confess, then pause “Bucky, please be careful with me,”

Your relationship was easy, comforting. The two of you almost never fought, and never grew tired of being with each other. One blissful year turned into two and then five. It was like a dream and Bucky never wanted to wake up.

But reality eventually did.

How closely you guarded your phone should have tipped him off. How you’d constantly declined calls while the two of you were together. The way you almost always got ‘too drunk’ on girls night and would end up crashing at your friend’s place.

The first time it’s sixth months into your relationship on a lazy Saturday. The two of you had ordered pizza and planned to cuddle on the couch and have a movie marathon. You were in the bathroom when your phone had vibrated. Knowing that you would get a notification when the pizza arrived Bucky had looked at your phone. Bucky had felt surprised to see the name Dominos instead of an unsaved number pop up on your screen. Your phone didn’t show the preview of the text like his did. Your phone was still unlocked since you had headed to the bathroom but a few seconds ago, so Bucky tapped to open the text.

Dominos: [Can’t wait to see you again, beautiful]

Bucky’s blood had run cold. He froze, only unfreezing when he realized you were standing next to him.

“We aren’t exclusive!” you had defended.

“What the hell do you mean?” Bucky had growled. At that your face had crumbled, eyes filling with tears.

“You never asked me to be your girl.” you had looked away “We never talked about what we are,”

“Whaddya think we’ve been doing these past months?!” Bucky had yelled back,

“ I don't know. I don’t assume Bucky. Because guys always seem to want to date me, treat me like their girlfriend and then turn around and throw it in my face that they never said I was.” your voice breaks and so does Bucky's anger. He hadn’t been very verbal with you so far. It’s true he never asked you to be his girl, or even verbally on a date. He just thought you both knew. Guilt fills him at the sight of your tear stained face.

“I’m sorry I was just preparing for the inevitable,” you say and turn away. Bucky grabs your arm and pulls you towards him.

“Well, let me make it clear. I want you to be my girl. I want you to be mine and mine alone.”

Your expression is unfathomable as you wind your arms around his neck.

“I am yours.”

That night you stand in front of Bucky and wordlessly slip out of your sweatpants and t shirt, rendering him speechless. With reverence Bucky’s hands trace your frame and his mouth follows. That night he worships you.

Later, you wrap your arms around him and whisper

“I love you,”

And Bucky knows that he’s done for.

“I love you too sweetheart.” he says, and later still when you’ve fallen asleep Bucky lies awake, stroking the soft contours of your back. He’s done for. And he knows it.

“I’ll be careful,” he whispers.

Reality had tried to wake Bucky gently. Through warning signs that should have been loud and clear especially to an ex assassin. But Bucky had accepted your half baked truths and excuses. He was too far gone off of the drug that was your love to heed the warning signs until reality slapped him- no choked him, awake.

His awakening came in the form of the sight of you on your kitchen counter, a man kneeling in between your spread thighs. The flowers he had bought you on his way back from his mission that had ended early drop to the floor. Bucky freezes. But at the sight of Tommy’s face, cheeks slick with you he loses it. Next thing he realizes that he has his hands around your coworkers throat. But your hand on his shoulder drains the fight out of him, and as Tommy scrambles out of the apartment Bucky crumples to the floor and sobs.

“Why?” He asks and he realizes he’s not just asking about now, but about all the times he’s caught you cheating but didn’t have the strength to leave you.

“Baby” you say and gather him into your arms. He wants to pull away, thrash, yell, but he doesn’t. He just melts into your touch. You make him weak. And at night when he thinks about your excuses and half truths he hates himself for it.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” he says, sobs wracking his frame “Five years-did they mean nothing to you?”

“I’m sorry,” you say “I love you,”

At this Bucky pulls away, standing. “Don’t fucking lie to me.” he hisses.

“I’m not,” you say standing “I might lie all the time but I’m not lying about this.” your eyes go soft at the corners, and start to water.

“No. I love you. I adore you. I’d give you anything-everything and you treat me like shit” Bucky spits, there’s a pain in his chest, his heart is breaking “And I just fucking take it, because you make me so fucking weak- and I hate it” another sob ribs from his chest. A part of him thinks that this is his punishment. For all of the terrible things he’s done. Cursed to be in love with someone who will never truly love him back. He looks at you, your hair is in disarray, baggy t shirt, those fucking cargo pants around your ankles. He gives a bitter laugh “Who woulda thought that you would’ve been the one to make me weak.”

“Why? Because I’m not pretty?” hurt flashes across your face then your eyes go hard. Usually Bucky would have been quick to refute any self deprecating words, reassuring you how beautiful he found you, how gorgeous you were. But now he just lifts his chin and looks back at you with the same hard eyes.

“Well I know I’m not pretty.” you shrug, face going strangely expressionless “But you still fell for me all the same. More fool you.” you say, and after a moment continue. “We should break up.”

At this Bucky shatters. Because he knows deep down that even after all of this he still would have taken you back. He still wants to grovel at your feet and plead to try to fix your relationship. But instead he decides to finally choose himself and turns and walks out of the door and out of your life.

Year later he still finds himself looking at your picture in his wallet, the one remnant of you he has left, that he can’t bear to get rid of. On lonely nights where he can’t sleep and can’t stand the coldness of his bed he’ll trace the curve of your smile and wish that you had cared enough to have been careful with him.

Tags:@stephie-senpai@ayeputita@pixierox101@iamwarrenspeace@ dreamgirljere @ufffg@pietrotheavenger @trinityjadec@abbytagg@wastedsummerss@turdblossommm@jimmyisfab@sev7en@hottrashformarvel @superbuckytrash@waidewilson@abbytagg @awkwardfangirl2014 @desir-ae

Bucky only @chamongangae@callmebucky-doll

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #Bucky Barnes #marvel angst #marvel reader insert #marvel imagine #bucky x reader

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c-hristy · 5 years

Text

Dealmaking 《Charlastor》

It had been consistently gnawing at him for the past few weeks. Something constantly settled in the back of his mind; endlessly worrying through any defensive mechanisms that he put in place to stop the thought from coming to the forefront of his mind.

Alastor was a sentimental man on the surface. He doted on Charlie like no tomorrow; gifting her flowers and twirling her around the ballroom in such a way that everyone could see that he was enamoured. He knew he was like this on the surface; the way he’d present Rosie or Mimzy with flowers, or cart Niffty around also conveyed his ability to get along well with women.

His mind however, was turned away from any long lasting sentimental thoughts about nearly every living creature that he had come across, whether it was topside or in Hell. He’d always felt that if anyone were to walk from his life, he’d just shrug and continue on. Nothing really hit struck him deeply; not until he’d met her.

Alastor had been unable to attend to duties at the Hotel for the past week in a half; his mind had gone through a particularly rough rampage through Pentagram City and his Wendigo had been nearly unmanageable from the flesh of demons. It had been shameful, almost, how uncontrollable he had been. After the day or so of causing havoc in the city, he’d locked himself in his radio tower to collect his thoughts and regroup.

In those days, a sort of prickling pain started to edge its way onto the edge of his heart and he wasn’t sure what it was exactly. His fingers itched to do something and when he lay down in his bed to sleep for the first time in a week, it seemed like the mattress itself was miles long and almost uncomfortable - he knew he hadn’t felt that way only just a few months ago, the last time he’d slept at the radio tower.

It wasn’t like he needed sleep; the itch of his eyelids was able to be ignored and the slight fatigue he felt wasn’t too bothersome. His fingers tapped slightly along the bedsheets and for a moment, all he felt was frustration at the inability to actually relax his body.

After another hour of mindless tapping and thoughts, Alastor heaved out a long-suffering sigh and pushed the blankets away from him, sitting up on the bed. It ‘wasn’t terribly comfortable; he realized, not like the bed he shared when he stayed at the Hotel.

His mouth crept downward into the most relaxed smile he knew he could muster as he thought of his bedmate. Charlie wasn’t exactly one to stay to herself while she slept; she sprawled and muttered and moved around senselessly. She slept more than he did, usually every other night, and he wondered if it was due to her Hellborn status. She usually lay on top of him, her legs tangling with his, fingers gripping his nightshirt and her lips moving in nonsensical speaking once in a while. The nights that he didn’t sleep, he’d lie awake, stroking the mess of curls on the one side of her head and flicking through the variety of songs that played through the radio in the room.

With a flourish, Alastor stood and slid his hooves into his shoes before grasping onto the shadow magic that surrounded him and slipping through the darkness. He crept along the streets of Pentagram, unseen and deft as he made his way to the hotel that was on the other side of the city. Halfway there, he almost stopped and berated himself; running into the bed of someone wasn’t exactly the most dignified idea.

“You’re always welcome, here, Al, you know that,” he could almost hear her say to him, like she had done so many times in the past when he had vocalized his discomfort with just waltzing into her bedroom of all places.

The shadows of the Hotel bent to his power as he drifted through them. Alastor noted how Husker was still awake, nursing a bottle of something, barely muttering to a still-hyper Niffty. Angel Dust was lounging on one of the couches, flipping mindlessly through a magazine while he lazily ate one of those popsies that he loved so much.. Alastor continued onward into the hotel, noting just how quiet everything seemed to be.

As he neared Charlie’s sleeping quarters, he came to notice that her room was still brilliantly lit; there would be no shadow for him to travel into. His lips curved downward slightly at the hindrance; he’d either have to knock or just walk in.

His ears flicked as he realized that there was actually speaking going on inside the room; his hearing picked it up rather easily and he moved closer to the door so that he would be able to hear the speakers just a little bit better.

“- don’t know, Vags. It just seems hopeless!” A soft thud as Charlie most likely threw herself backward onto her bed.

A gentle rustle of blankets, “I never thought you were one to give up, “Vaggie said, sounding tired.

“Hey!” Charlie huffed indignantly, “I’m not giving up. I’m just unsure, is all!”

“Well, if you don’t think he will, why don’t you?”

Alastor blinked and tilted his head. Who was the ‘he’ that they were speaking about?

There was a moment of silence from both Charlie and Vaggie. Alastor put his hand on the doorknob and was tempted to just make a grand entrance, though some part of him murmured that he should keep low and listen to them further.

“I think that’s a good idea. Oh, he probably wouldn’t say yes,” He could hear Charlie flip over on the bed, her tone dejected, “I guess I’m weird for wanting him to propose to me. Being the Radio Demon’s wife, I guess. Is that weird?”

Alastor felt a rush of heat flood through his face and up his ears, hand falling from the doorknob and his ears folding backward. The way she had said it; it sent ripples of pleasure through his spine and in that moment, he came to realize that it was probably the next logical step, right?

Marriage. He’d never put a whole lot of thought into it, either on the topside or down in Hell. No one had ever struck his fancy; had made him feel as though he would want to wed them. As he thought more on it, Charlie and Vaggie’s conversation slipping from his mind, he came to realize that Charlie was the one that he felt like that with.

The want to be curled next to her, the desire to listen to her babble nonsensically about the Hotel and it’s sponsors and the few demons that she had managed to redeem - he enjoyed listening to all of it. One of the few, if only, demons that he actually craved to be around.

With a wicked grin spread across his lips, Alastor dipped into the shadows once more and disappeared from the hotel.

Hours later, he crept through the Hotel, fully formed. He knew how to keep quiet so that no one else would be able to hear him; it wasn’t a difficult mission. Alastor noted that the lights inside Charlie’s room were turned off, so he didn’t have too much of an issue just pushing open the door and stepping inside.

On the bed lay Charlie, sprawled out and completely tangled in the blankets. His smile crept up and he shuffled in further, making sure to set his shoes near the door and hang his jacket up on one of the chairs in the room. He was still dressed in his sleepwear; he hadn’t had the time to change it between his attempt at sleeping at the tower and during his small errand.

Alastor dipped down on to the mattress and with a short shake to Charlie’s shoulder, she jolted awake and blinked blearily at him.

“Wha- Oh! Al!” A sleepy smile stretched across her face and she moved away from his side of the bed, shuffling the blankets so that he would be able to crawl in with her.

He did, resting himself against the pillows and turning toward her. She scoot herself backward, her back against his chest, and he lazily tossed an arm over her waist. Charlie gave a soft murmur of appreciation at the affection, turning her head to look up at him.

“I didn’t think you were coming over tonight,” She yawned, reaching up and rubbing her eyes, “I would have made space if I knew!”

Alastor chuckled and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her temple, “That’s quite alright, darling. I didn’t quite expect myself to come over, either.”

Charlie hummed and turned back over, Alastor watching how her eyes slipped closed and her breathing started to slow into a more relaxed pattern. He felt his own heart pound steadily in his chest, whatever was left of it, his own mind warping and twisting.

“Charlie,” Alastor spoke, without even realizing he had started.

“Mmm?” She hummed softly, not moving from her position, though she cracked open a single eye.

“I need to talk to you,” His arm tightened around her waist and she rolled slightly so that she could make eye contact with him.

She yawned again, turning fully so that she could see him better, “Now?”

He nodded and propped himself up on an elbow, head tilted slightly, “Charlie, I have not loved very many things and even fewer people in both of my lives. It’s strange to me,” He reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand, grin soft, “That with every passing moment, my love for you grows stronger.”

Charlie’s cheeks darkened further and she smiled prettily at him, “Al.”

He leaned forward and her smile widened as he pressed a kiss to her lips. He didn’t give them often; Charlie rest her hand on his shoulder and kissed Alastor back just as sweetly as he was to her. When he pulled away, he didn’t move too far and kept his eyes on hers

“Will you allow me to love you forever? Day after day, month after month, year after year?” He reached down to the pocket of his pajama pants and pulled out the smooth ring that he had kept safely there, holding it out to her with his index and thumb, “Charlotte Magne, may I be yours forever?”

Charlie’s eyes widened and filled with tears, her throat closing up slightly at the complete vulnerable look on Alastor’s face. She nodded frantically, holding out her hand. Alastor took it and slid the ring onto her finger; a simple silver band with a single diamond engrained in it. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, laughing.

“Yes, Al, of course!” She peppered kisses along his cheek and Alastor felt the magic of dealmaking snap around them, a gentle green glow emitting from them.

He chuckled and pulled her closer to him, watching as the single diamond glittered in the low light. Alastor felt as though he were overcome by so many emotions and yet none at all; none of the emotions he had ever felt, in both lives, could compare to the feeling he was washed with while he looked over Charlie, wearing his ring and a grin on her lips. He leaned forward, nose brushing against hers.

“So, it’s a deal then.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin charlie #charlastor #charlastor story #charlie x alastor

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theprodigypenguin · 4 years

Note

You know, I have this idea (in a Remus and Tonks live au) that Teddy may be afraid to come out to Remus. Like he knows his father is really chill and loves him to the moon and back (no pun intended) but he still is a bit scared. Like he has told his mum ages ago but still struggles with Remus. And now I want to know what would your take be in a similar situation? My excuse is that I just love your Teddy and your headcanons.

Hope this is what you had in mind anon dear:

word count: 3.8k

CW: internalized biphobia & biphobia

Teddy didn’t think it was possible to have gotten better parents. The ones he had were more than enough, and he considered himself extremely lucky. After all, there were plenty of kids around who didn’t have parents at all; like his Uncle Harry and Professor Longbottom. Teddy had both his mum and dad, and he often acknowledged the fact he could have lost them both during the Battle of Hogwarts.

George was the one who told him, when he was still rather young. “Your dad showed up to the battle first. I was surprised because they’d just had you, and no one would’ve blamed him for staying home. He’s a Gryffindor though, and he wanted to fight. It’s no wonder. Your mum showed up a little later, insisting you’d be fine. You were just a tiny thing. I’d only seen pictures of you by then, but you were days old and she was raring for a fight. She didn’t want your old man to be alone, but it always seemed off to me. I mean, one spell just inches closer could have killed them both.”

The concept of his parents being dead had brought him to tears, and Remus had gathered him up while Tonks scolded George, who looked sheepishly innocent.

Teddy knew he was lucky, and as he got older he tried hard not to take advantage of it.

His parents were wonderful. There were a few times when his father would get irritable and little difficult to deal with, around the full moon, but Teddy had adapted to those times. He tried to be extra helpful around the house because he knew Remus was tired, and it genuinely seemed to help the older man. Other times, when Remus wasn’t dealing with his transformations, he was an attentive and loving father who doted on Teddy.

Tonks said it often, everyone did in fact, that Teddy was so his father’s son. They were attached at the hip since Teddy was born. Tonks used to fake hurt feelings when little Teddy would toddle over to Remus instead of her, but she didn’t seem to actually mind much. That wasn’t to say Teddy loved his father more than he loved his mother, because he loved them both to the moon and back. It was just that Tonks worked at the Ministry as an Auror, and Remus had been acting as a stay-at-home parent since the end of the war.

For a few years that was all he did, stay home and raise Teddy while Tonks worked, until Teddy was five years old and Headmistress McGonagoll offered Remus a job at Hogwarts. After that Teddy found himself traveling to the school with his now Professor father. He was excited to go to work with his father, even though he didn’t really know what was going on. All he understood was he got to be with Remus, and in his mind there was nothing better.

He got to go to work with Tonks sometimes too, of course, and he loved zipping around the Ministry and causing mayhem, seeking out the Minister to take a nap on the trailing tails of his robes while he shooed away the people who tried to remove the toddler. There was just something different about going to Hogwarts with Remus, though. Teddy loved it there.

Mostly Teddy loved being with his father. His grandparents babysat of course, so did his Uncle Harry and Uncle Bill (occasionally Uncle Charlie, but only if he had supervision), but he preferred being with his parents.

Tonks said it was a good thing that Teddy bonded so deeply with his father. She said Remus needed it. Teddy didn’t know what that meant, but he was always up for hugging his dad when Tonks crouched to his level to whisper “papa needs a Teddy-bear hug”. Teddy grew up with the belief and bravery that he could tell his father literally everything. When he had scary dreams, when he didn’t like the cooking, when he thought a rock looked super cool. He strived to make his parents smile, make them proud, because he was proud to be their son, but more than anything else he wanted Remus to be proud.

That was normal, wasn’t it? For sons to crave their father’s pride and attention? That was completely normal.

Maybe that was why Teddy felt such crushing shame when he caught himself staring appreciatively at Ravenclaw Chaser Henry Carlisle after a Quidditch match when he was thirteen. Just that past summer he’d quipped something about Victoire Weasley being cute, and his parents had gone giddy teasing him about his crush. Now he was staring at someone who was not only decidedly not Victoire, but someone who was male. That wasn’t normal, was it?

Teddy bit his nails down to the quick worrying over it the entire school year. It didn’t get better when he got home for the summer, either. It was as if something had been shaken out of place, but the longer he thought about it, the more he realized he’d always had these feelings. His interest in men was the exact same interest he had in women. A part of him didn’t want to pursue the confusing stirrings in his gut, he wanted to just focus on women, but he couldn’t help it.

He experimented with his feelings by sneaking a few less than appropriate magazines into his bedroom, staying up late at night with a flashlight and looking between them with a furrowed brow. Magazines filled with erotic photos of women in bikinis and men in speedos. Some of them had completely nude centerfolds, and Teddy found himself cheerfully enjoying everything.

Teddy appreciated the curved figure of women, but he also liked staring at shirtless pictures of men, ogling at their otherwise flat chests and the ridges of the muscles in their abdomens. Teddy liked broad shoulders in men, and he liked tall women. He liked thighs and he liked the different ways people smiled. Teddy wasn’t picky, and that made him think he was flippant.

He was fourteen when he found a word to call himself. Bisexual. Being sexually attracted to both men and women. That sounded about right, but Teddy wasn’t entirely convinced until he was in his fourth year at school. He was drawn to the intrigue of sneaking around to snog, he was at that age after all. Teddy was happy to make out with fourth year Slytherin Dahlia Calhoun behind the greenhouse when they were supposed to be bringing bags of fertilizer to Hagrid’s but, but he was even more delighted about snogging Henry Carlisle under the Quidditch bleachers after a game where the Ravenclaw had taken a bludger to the arm but still managed to stay in the game.

For a blissful time he was okay with who he was, though he didn’t bring it up when he had tea with Remus, and just shrugged when his father asked him if there was “someone special” in Teddy’s life. Teddy was angry with himself for keeping something so big from his father, but he couldn’t seem to tell the man about wanting to give Dahlia his Hufflepuff scarf because it was cute, while simultaneously wanting to steal Henry’s sweaters because they smelt like him and he loved it.

Would Remus be angry with him? Teddy knew how difficult life had been for his father growing up. He had trouble connecting with people, and rejected the idea of romance for so long because he felt like he didn’t deserve it. Now Teddy was selfishly wanting to be with everyone he met no matter what gender they were, just because he could? Was that fair? Was that normal? Was there something wrong with him?

Remus had spent over thirty years of his life thinking he’d never get married, and to him there was nothing more important than his family. Tonks and Teddy were his greatest loves, that’s what Remus would tell Teddy. That everything he endured was worth it because all the pain and loneliness led him to something better than he ever could have hoped to have.

Teddy didn’t know what that was like. He didn’t appreciate pressing against another person and drinking in their affection the way Remus appreciated it, because Teddy had never longed for it before. He’d never really longed for anything, actually.

He had his beloved parents, he had grandparents who worshipped him. Uncles and aunts who set him on a pedestal, a baby cousin who seemed to idolize him, dozens of little kids who looked up to him and loved him. Teddy had friends and grades that went through the roof, the professors all adored him, and he was smart enough to pull off pranks so flawlessly that younger students came to him for advice on not getting caught. He was admired and appreciated by everyone he met, and maybe best of all, the most he dealt with during full moons was worrying idly for his father.

Teddy had it all, yet he somehow figured he could have even more? That he was entitled to it? Was that what he thought? Teddy didn’t know. It all felt so innocent and natural when he held Dahlia’s hand on the way to Hogsmeade or snuggled against Henry’s chest when they were sitting by Black Lake together.

They were friends, and they seemed to understand Teddy better than Teddy did, because they didn’t mind that the Hufflepuff was still trying to figure out who he was. They were happy to experiment and play along because “that’s what kids do”. Henry was gay and Dahlia was straight, so Teddy would sometimes see them snogging other boys at school, but he never felt jealous or angry. If anything he would think “good job guys” before going on his merry way. Teddy didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him.

He’d just turned sixteen and was finishing up his fifth year when Gryffindor Maggie Scott seemed to deepen his already heavy shame. By rejecting him when he asked if she wanted to go to Hogsmeade with him.

“Why the hell would I do that? I know what you do. You’ll be with me until you find some guy you’d rather snog. You can’t like two genders, fucking freak. You’re just a selfish asshole. I could never date some gay bloke who’s confused and still in the closet.”

“But I’m not gay,” Teddy said, baffled, and Maggie scoffed at him.

“You’re telling me you didn’t snog Carlisle in the Astronomy Tower?”

“No I did.” Teddy furrowed his brow. “That doesn’t make me gay.”

“Sorry.” Maggie turned away. “It’s never gonna happen. If you can’t make up your mind about who you wanna shack up with, you’ll probably end up getting bored and cheating on me.”

“I would never do that!” Teddy argued. “And—and I just wanted to go to Hogsmeade!”

“I want a real boyfriend. Not someone who just wants to play around.”

It broke Teddy’s heart, not necessarily the rejection, but the words she’d used. Selfish. Someone who just wants to play around. It wasn’t true. Teddy was pretty sure of that, but at the same time he didn’t know. Maybe he was just selfish and unable to commit to one person.

“Hey mum?” Teddy stared at where Tonks was standing at the counter fixing up dinner. He was sitting at the table with his chin nestled against his folded arms, leaning against the table.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“Do you know what bisexual means?” Tonks turned to give him a curious look, and Teddy bit his tongue to keep his hair from going pink. “I heard someone talking about it at school this past year, but I don't know what it is.”

“Oh. Well, it’s when someone likes both boys and girls,” Tonks explained, waving her spatula and staring up as he spoke. “Let me think; you remember Dean and Seamus? They’re gay. I feel like we should have had this conversation before, but it was always so normal to your father and I. Oh well. Anyway, being gay is different than being bi. If you’re gay, straight, or a lesbian, it means your attracted to one gender. Gays and lesbian folk are people attracted to the same gender, so boys like boys and girls like girls. Meanwhile, straights are attracted to the opposite gender, which is what you usually see. Uncle George is straight, for example. He’s only ever been attracted to women, and the majority of people are like that, or at least the majority of what we see is straight or straight passing people.”

“But that’s normal,” Teddy said, lifting his head up. “I know people are gay or lesbian or straight. Those are like, default orientations.”

“Honey there’s no default,” Tonks argued, hands on her hips. “Sexual orientation is as fluid as gender.”

“Gender is fluid?”

“Sure, sometimes,” Tonks smiled.

“But…” Teddy glared at the table. “It’s selfish. I mean, you can’t be two things. You can’t just like girls and boys. That’s… gross.”

“Teddy!”

“And—and unfaithful!” Teddy insisted, sitting straighter. “Bisexual is just what people call themselves when they want to cheat on their girlfriend or boyfriend to make themselves feel better! They’re just people who don’t know how to commit to a normal relationship!”

“Edward Lupin!” The use of his full name made Teddy’s eyes blow wide, sinking in his seat as Tonks slammed the spatula on the counter. “I can’t believe I’m hearing something like that coming from my own son’s mouth!”

“Mum—”

“People do not deserve to be shamed for something that is completely normal and natural! None of what you just said is true!” Her expression softened. “Here I thought we raised you to be more open and accepting of people. Wouldn’t you feel hurt if someone said those things to you?” Teddy’s eyes were burning now, and Tonks sighed. “You have summer essays to work on. Go on.”

Teddy dragged himself out of the chair, ducking his head and hurrying out of the room. His boots pounded against the steps as he ran up them to the second floor, running to his bedroom and slamming the door shut as hot tears rolled down his face.

He kicked his boots off before tearing off his sweater just so he had something to throw at the wall, then stomped over to his bed and threw himself onto it as the tears started coming faster. He supposed he should have been happy, because his mother seemed to openly accept and support bisexual people, enough to defend them, but all he felt was more shame and hate. Tonks almost never yelled at him, so the fact Teddy pushed her that far made him feel sick to his stomach. She must have been so disgusted and disappointed in him. Teddy wouldn’t blame her.

He cried against his pillow for a time before rolling onto his side and grabbing the yellow and black knit blanket that Molly had made him for Christmas when he was ten. He dragged it up the bed and flopped down, covering himself with it completely and rolling into the fetal position. Teddy laid there miserably for hours, feeling on the cusp of crying again or throwing up, not yet tired enough to sleep. Everything sucked.

He flinched when he heard a knock on his door, tensing up and burying his face in his pillow as the door was opened. “Mind if I join you in your castle of sorrow?” Remus asked, but Teddy was too upset to laugh at the playful jab.

“Go away.”

“I would, but this is my house.” The door shut behind Remus, and he walked up to the bed. Teddy felt the mattress sink behind him as his father sat on the edge of it, squirming to the opposite edge of the bed to put distance between them. “I heard you and your mum got in a row. Pretty unusual.”

Teddy grit his teeth, tensing up. “She just doesn’t get it.”

Remus laughed softly. “I guess you wouldn’t think so.” The mattress shifted again, so Teddy figured Remus had leaned himself against the pillows, probably propping up his bad leg. “You know, there are more bisexual people in your life than you might guess.”

“Yeah? Name five,” Teddy scoffed, and Remus hummed.

“Your Uncle Bill for one. Percy is pretty openly bisexual, but I think it took him a while to reach that point. Luna. Your mum and me.”

Teddy gaped through the little holes in the knitted blanket as Remus talked, but he couldn’t seem to respond.

“I suppose your mum is more pansexual, though.”

“Why’d you marry her then?” Teddy asked, curling into a tighter ball. “Why’d you have me?”

“Because I love your mother, Teddy, and she loves me, and we both love you.” Teddy felt a hand on his shoulder and pinched his eyes shut. “I’ll be honest, most of my interest in men was more curiosity than action based. I did have a crush on Kingsley at one point.”

“Minister Kingsley?”

“The same. Imagine that: werewolf Remus Lupin dating Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt.”

“It wouldn’t be weird,” Teddy argued on a mumble. “You won an Order of Merlin, you would have made a good match,” he frowned, “but then I wouldn’t be here.”

“One of the very many reasons I’m happy I met your mother and fell in love with her. We’ve been together a long time now, and we’re very committed to each other. I would never cheat, and neither would she.”

Teddy felt tears well in his eyes again as shame settled in his stomach like a rock. “I didn’t mean it when I said it,” he croaked, and Remus squeezed his shoulder.

“I know you didn’t. Come on, come here.”

Teddy pushed his quilt aside and sat up, scooting closer to Remus so he could be pulled into a tight embrace. He tucked his face against Remus’ shoulder, sniffling. Remus rubbed a hand up and down his back before going into his hair.

“Now, is there something you need to talk about?”

Teddy rubbed his cheek against the scratchy cardigan Remus was wearing to dry the tears, hands clinging to the material at his back. “Dahlia Calhoun has a really nice smile, but so does Henry Carlisle.”

Remus chuckled, carding a hand through Teddy’s hair, which had gone from a depressed brown to a chalky blush pink. “And there’s nothing wrong with enjoying them both.” His arms tightened around Teddy. “I know being a teenager is hard — believe me, I know — but you’re a good person, Teddy. Whatever people may say, you were born this way, and you’re perfect. Who knows, maybe you’re bisexual because your heart is too big to love just one gender. Seems boring to me to only be attracted to just girls or just boys anyway. Your mum and I will support you whether you end up dating a man or a woman.”

“Mum’s mad at me,” Teddy said miserably, and Remus squeezed him closer.

“She’s just sad. We both should have talked to you about this kind of thing much earlier. Things got away from this. I swear you were only a year old yesterday,” his voice was rough and Teddy smiled. “Give her a hug and tell her you love her and you’re very sorry. She’ll forgive you.”

“Okay.”

“You better make up with her fast, on that note,” Remus chided as he pulled back, reaching up to wipe away the tear tracks on Teddy’s face. “Harry, Ginny, and the kids are coming over for supper.”

“Really?!” Teddy scrambled to his knees, bouncing on the bed. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I just did!” Remus laughed. “Stop bouncing on the bed. Are you sixteen or six?”

“You wish I was six. I’m a man now, dad,” Teddy announced as he scrambled off the bed.

Remus stood up to follow him out of the room. “I do sometimes miss when you were small, but don’t forget you’re still a kid.”

“Uncle Harry was already winning a war at sixteen,” Teddy argued as he hiked down the stairs with Remus close behind.

“Uncle Harry is an idiot.”

“Hey,” they both looked up to see Harry standing just inside the door, his coat only halfway off and an indignant pout on his face.

“It’s not your fault,” Remus reassured. “It’s in the blood.”

Harry pouted more as his nine year old son shot past him, nearly toppling him, Ginny and Tonks.

“Teddy, Teddy, Teddy!”

Teddy stopped on the ground floor and opened his arms for James to run into, crashing against his chest like he was a bludgeon. “Hey Jamie,” Teddy grunted in greeting, wincing in pain as the younger boy practically climbed him in order to lock his arms around Teddy’s neck.

“Didja hear! I’m going to Hogwarts!”

“Not till next year,” Harry reminded him. “Bloody hell he hasn’t stopped with this. You have to be eleven, James.”

“I’m gonna be!” James yelled into Teddy’s ear.

Teddy tilted his head to the side, still hugging him close. “How old are you, Jamie?”

“Nine!”

“And you’re gonna be eleven this year?”

“Yeah!”

“What number comes after nine?”

“Te—!” James stopped, looking confused, then seemed to deflate. “Oh.”

“Now he’s gonna be sad all night,” Ginny said, and Harry rubbed a hand over his face.

“You know what that means though?” Teddy asked, setting James back on his feet. “I’m gonna be seventeen when you start Hogwarts, so I’ll know all the best spots to pull pranks, and all the secret hallways no one else knows about. I’ll show you the ropes!”

“What ropes?” James asked, and Teddy squished his face between his hands.

“That’s an expression, dummy.”

“Am not!”

“Are you going to say hi to Remus and Tonks?” Harry asked, and James whipped away from Teddy to scramble over to Remus.

Teddy shuffled backwards to stand with Tonks, who put an arm around him and kissed the side of his head. “I’m sorry I got mad earlier,” Teddy said softly, and Tonks squeezed him.

“It’s alright sweetie, I know you were just struggling. Your dad and I are here when you need us.”

Teddy smiled sheepishly at her, turning just in time for James to once again barrel into him and cling to him. That was how visits usually went though. James would lock himself to Teddy and not let go until he had to be dragged away. Teddy was fine with it, though. Having all three of the Potter kids piling over him and hugging him, a giggling mess.

Teddy was so lucky, he reminded himself as he crouched down so James could clamber up for a five step piggyback ride into the dining room, smiling brightly and not feeling nearly as empty and ashamed as he had before. Things were great, and they’d continue to be great, because he had the best parents in the entire world.

Thank you everyone who sent in songs!

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needtherapy · 4 years

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soaring, carried aloft on the wind...continued 17

A story for Xichen and Mingjue, in another time and another place.

The Beifeng, the mighty empire of the north, invaded more than a year ago, moving inexorably south and east.

In order to buy peace, the chief of the Lan clan has given the Beifeng warlord a gift, his second oldest son in marriage. However, when Xichen finds out he makes a plan.

He, too, can give a gift to the Beifeng warlord, and he will not regret it.

Part 1: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 Part 2: 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 … HOME

It’s complete on AO3 here.

Notes: Check the tags if you’re concerned about the pairings ;)

For translations of the entirely fictitious Beifeng language, you’ll have to scroll to notes. I’m only going to translate something that’s not clear in the text. Sadly, there’s just not any other good way to do it on Tumblr!

Chapter 17 Earlier

Xichen didn’t see Jin Guangyao again for days, largely because Mingjue barely let him leave his tent, as though trying to reassure Xichen that Jin Guangyao’s presence created no change. It was less reassuring than he intended, because Xichen thought that if his position here with Mingjue was wholly secure, perhaps he wouldn’t need so much reassuring.

Still, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t enjoy Mingjue’s presence seeping into every empty space of his life. Xichen had already learned that it was as earth-shattering to give pleasure as it was to receive it, and he had spent the winter months making a very thorough exploration of Mingjue’s body. There was almost no end to the things Mingjue was willing to let Xichen try, and he was, himself, remarkably inventive.

But he loved the small domesticity of Mingjue in the morning almost as much, of waking next to him, listening to the way his breathing shifted so suddenly from asleep to awake. He always seemed surprised to find Xichen with him, surprised and delighted, stretching his arms and pulling Xichen to him the same way every day.

With the siege temporarily eased, Mingjue was less busy, and most of what he did was familiar to Xichen, the work of running a city rather than commanding an army. There were internal conflicts to settle, supplies to organize, and plans to make for the future. Mingjue did most of it from the comfort of Xichen’s bed, to the great amusement of his generals. As Mingjue’s grasp of Yuyan and Xichen’s skill in Orera improved, Mingjue began asking Xichen’s opinion about everything, from the small issues of disagreements between the horse trainers and romantic entanglements gone awry, to the bigger and less exciting problems of crop rotation, food storage, and waste removal.

It wasn’t all work. In the down times, he fed Xichen rare mountain plums, massaged his back with jasmine cream and sweet-smelling oils, and braided Xichen’s hair in complicated twists and plaits, as doting a lover as Xichen could ever have imagined, and he reveled in being cared for. The only indulgence Xichen truly felt guilty about involved the copper tub.

Prior to winter, the huge tub had been used mostly for washing clothes. When it had been warmer, Xichen had bathed the way the rest of the Ikarahu did: very quickly in the cold river. Once the weather shifted, bathing tents were set up near the river and a team of Ikarahu mages moved and warmed water for baths. It was still cold, but warmer than Xichen’s bathing at home would have been in winter.

It was not, however, Mingjue’s preference. He liked hot baths and decided to convert Xichen to his point of view.

It took dozens of people to move water from the river on the eastern side of the camp to the huge cauldron that sat on a magical fire in the center of camp. No one seemed to mind obliging their commander, although Xichen found it embarrassing that everyone knew when he bathed. Mingjue had just laughed and asked how it was different than bathing in the communal tents, and Xichen didn’t have an answer for that.

He was immediately won over when he sank into water hot enough to sting, and he nearly cried with happiness. Apparently, the sound he made was such that Mingjue stripped and joined him, settling Xichen in front of him and washing his hair with gentle fingers until Xichen could no longer stand the positively provoking way his body was rubbing against Xichen’s under the water. Xichen rolled over to provoke him back, sloshing water over the sides of the tub in a flurry of kisses. Mingjue’s solution was even messier, pulling Xichen out of the tub and tossing him onto the bed, which made Xichen laugh and shiver at the heat in Mingjue’s eyes. Luckily, the copper tub kept the water warm enough to still be enjoyable after their not-so-brief interlude.

It was almost enough to make him forget the flutter of Jin Guangyao’s long eyelashes when he looked at Mingjue.

Despite Mingjue’s efforts to keep him distracted, Xichen had seen and even talked to Guangyao in the common areas of camp, usually with Huaisang hovering nearby. But sometimes Jin Guangyao was sitting alone, always watching the men and women around him but never interacting. Xichen couldn’t help wondering what Jin Guangyao did to occupy his time.

Xichen finally decided to take the initiative. He couldn’t ignore the man forever. The next time he saw Jin Guangyao alone, leaning on a hitching post and watching the munaku training, he stopped.

“Jin-gongzi, I notice you are fond of the munaku. Have you seen the eagles hunting as well?” Xichen asked, and Jin Guangyao’s smile filled his face.

“Zewu-Jun, this one has only seen them in the distance. Oringa’anhu Ikira says they are too dangerous to approach. They are magnificent, even from afar, although this one would be willing to take the risk.”

He seemed to be watching Xichen’s face carefully, as though gauging his reaction, and Xichen wondered what he was looking for. He made an impulsive decision.

“Jin-gongzi, would you allow me to share a pot of Zhao tea with you tomorrow? I do not know if you have had Ikarahu tea yet, but...it is likely not what you are used to, and it is always a pleasure to drink good tea with someone who appreciates it.”

Jin Guangyao blinked in surprise and then chuckled. “Indeed, Zewu-Jun, this one has tried the...tea. It would be an honor to avoid sampling it again.”

Xichen laughed despite himself. At least they had that in common.

He’d taken Jin Guangyao one of the many potted plants Mingjue had gifted him in the autumn along with the tea. When he arrived, Jin Guangyao was writing at a table piled high with books, something else they had in common. Even though Xichen still found Jin Guangyao more cautious than necessary, always correcting his course to avoid any offense, he was easy to talk to, never at a loss for words, and Xichen’s dislike thawed. It was harder to hate someone he didn’t know.

However, the first time Jin Guangyao visited Xichen, more than two weeks after he arrived, was entirely without warning on a bath day. Jin Guangyao had shown himself to be so unflaggingly proper in every other way, his unannounced appearance at the tent entry came as an unwelcome shock. It wasn’t precisely rude, but it set Xichen off balance, and he had to scramble to recover.

“Zewu-Jun, the camp is so large! There must be a thousand tents. This one struggled to find this tent, only to discover how near it is after walking down many other rows,” Jin Guangyao laughed, bright and winsome as he shook snow off his clothes, and it helped erase Xichen’s annoyance at being interrupted.

And then Jin Guangyao saw Mingjue sitting cross-legged on the bed, his still-damp braids loose around his shoulders. It was obvious the moment Guangyao noticed him, because his posture changed slightly, as though a rope was pulled taut inside his body, and he bowed respectfully.

“Ipira’orhew Ikira, this one did not expect such an honor.”

Mingjue was eating a plum, cutting into it with the sharp blade of a small curved dagger, and he nodded at Jin Guangyao with a smile. Xichen took that to mean he didn’t mind Jin Guangyao’s presence, so he invited the man to join them. Xichen had been playing the guqin before Jin Guangyao arrived, and he wasn’t sure if he should continue, but Mingjue grinned beseechingly at him.

“Edas ahora, will you finish the song?”

Xichen sat back down behind the instrument, settling his fingers against the strings. Jin Guangyao chose one of the large cushions in front of Xichen to sit on, but only after darting an assessing look at Mingjue that was altogether too interested.

“Zewu-Jun is a master musician,” Jin Guangyao exclaimed, his dark eyes alight with what looked like genuine admiration when Xichen finished a song about peonies fading in summer.

“Thank you, Jin-gongzi,” Xichen replied, unable to be informal in the face of this man’s unflinching politeness.

“Do you play?” Mingjue asked, laying back against the bed pillows and crossing his ankles.

He popped a piece of plum in his mouth and raised his eyebrows curiously. He looked relaxed and decadent, and, in Xichen’s opinion, gorgeous. Xichen was not surprised by the minute flare of Jin Guangyao’s nostrils and fleeting lift of his eyebrows before he shook his head regretfully.

“Only a little. This one’s skill is minor by comparison. My talents lie elsewhere.” He looked away with a flush, and added, “I write poetry, sometimes.”

Xichen played through two more songs before Mingjue stretched, back arched, arms above his head, catching both Xichen and Jin Guangyao’s full attention. He got up and kissed Xichen’s forehead, touching a thumb to his lips. “Da iko auha, Ahora’ipa.”

To Xichen’s surprise, he ruffled the top of Jin Guangyao’s head on his way out. “I see you, too, Guangyao.”

The look that passed over Jin Guangyao’s face was mostly baffled. But not entirely.

“He does have that effect,” Xichen murmured, trying to repress the flare of irritation.

Jin Guangyao instantly schooled his expression into neutrality. “He is different than this one expected,” he said flatly, and then added with a deferential tip to his head, “Zewu-Jun, may this one ask? What does Ahora’ipa mean?”

It was an interesting question, as Xichen was quite sure Jin Guangyao knew precisely what the endearment meant. But perhaps he was asking for the deeper understanding of the phrase, which Xichen himself was still not fully sure of.

“It means ‘well loved,’ and it seems to be the Ikarahu equivalent to Zewu-Jun. When my family arranged the treaty with the Ikarahu, one of the terms was that I would be given…” Xichen paused, trying to be mindful of the lie he is about to tell. “I would be given ‘equal status.’ I believe it is in acknowledgement of my rank as my father’s heir and commander.”

Although it was true that the contract specified that he was “given in equal status,” Xichen had never understood why he was granted a title, as he knew perfectly well the title was not part of the agreement for Wangji, nor was it part of the rewritten contract Xichen created. Perhaps it had been in an earlier draft of the negotiations, but to ask would make it clear that he deceived the Ikarahu without his family’s knowledge, and he was still not certain how that news would be received. If nothing else, it would disclose how he had lied to them, and he was not eager to face that revelation.

Jin Guangyao nodded thoughtfully, a small crease between his eyes. “It is a title, then. Undoubtedly one that has been earned, given the way it is said around camp.”

Xichen felt his cheeks heating, and he was quick to soften the possible insult that, despite their similar status and station, Jin Guangyao was given no title by the Ikarahu, “Ipira’orhew Ikira is fond of endearments for people he knows well. Ahora’ipa, treasured one, beloved man…it is just his way.”

Jin Guangyao smiled, wider than Xichen had seen before. “You are different than I expected as well,” he said, creasing the dimples into his cheeks.

The shift to informality took Xichen by surprise, as did the implication that Jin Guangyao had expectations of Xichen. How could he have known anything about Xichen other than gossip?

“Your brother sends his regards,” Jin Guangyao said softly, and Xichen jolted upright, standing before he could take a breath.

He dropped to the ground next to Jin Guangyao and gripped his hand. “You have seen Wan...Hanguang-Jun?” he asked, hoping, hoping.

“No, Zewu-Jun,” Jin Guangyao said kindly. “I wrote to him to congratulate him on being made heir of the Lan clan and again when my father...when I was asked to come here.”

He has already been announced as heir. Of course his father would not delay. Wangji must hate it, Xichen thought, and his heart sank when he realized that all he had done was lock his brother in a second prison instead of the first.

No, he could not believe that. At least at home, Wangji would have the chance for happiness with his archer. Here, there would have been no hope. Wangji was fair and just, and he would learn to be a fine leader of the Lan clan.

“Did he...send anything...for me?” The question feels childish, and he knew it was unfair to expect his brother to send a message when Xichen had not, but he was filled with an overwhelming sense of loss for the conversations he would never have with his brother. This was the closest he had been to Wangji in months; he couldn’t help asking.

Did he imagine the hesitation?

“No, Zewu-Jun, but he did say he had not heard from you since you left?” Jin Guangyao said tentatively, the question in his voice inviting Xichen to explain.

Xichen felt guilty for suspecting him of hiding something. It was Xichen who was hiding. He couldn’t even explain it. He couldn’t explain all the letters he wrote and discarded, the words he did not dare share with his brother. Wangji would never believe him. I am sorry I deceived you. I am happy here. And even if I was not, you are safe.

In the end, he had written only once to his father, shortly after his birthday, saying the words he knew would protect his brother and the Cloud Recesses. This is my choice. I am safe. Evidently his father had not chosen to share that with Wangji, which is an anger Xichen can not show Jin Guangyao. For the first time, he wonders if he made a mistake in not trying to convince Wangji that he was happy. He hadn’t wanted to drive a wedge between his father and brother, and he hadn’t been certain if Wangji would believe anything he said. No, he knows Wangji. He would be angry with Xichen for deceiving him, but he was prudent and thoughtful, and he would never endanger the Cloud Recesses. A contract was a contract, no matter how much he might hate it. Understanding of the ramifications and his natural cautiousness would keep Wangji from taking any action.

“I left abruptly and...I was angry,” he said, hoping Jin Guangyao would accept his equivocation. “Anything I said now would be a disappointment to them.”

Jin Guangyao’s peals of laughter sounded forced from him, and he covered his mouth. Xichen raised his eyebrows, puzzled.

“Oh, Zewu-Jun,” he finally managed, “It is only that...I have never considered what it would be like to not disappoint my family.”

It was such a terrible thing to say, Xichen felt it must be the truth. He wanted to reassure Jin Guangyao, but he didn’t know this man or his family, and he didn’t want to appear either cruel or condescending.

“My brother would not be disappointed in me, but I did not want to put him in the position of having to tell my father that I was not unhappy,” he said, exchanging a truth for a truth.

“No, you do not seem to be.”

Jin Guangyao looked around the tent speculatively and Xichen flushed. He was not ashamed. He was not. He had not expected to ever feel anything but loneliness and resentment, and what he had found was, at the very least, friendship and acceptance. Xichen didn’t think there was any nobility in seeking out unhappiness, but it was difficult to admit his contentment to this man who was his countryman.

“Of course, I mean no judgement, Zewu-Jun,” he added, understanding Xichen’s reaction. “But if you would like the company of someone who can, perhaps, appreciate your situation, I would take comfort in having a friend who can appreciate mine.”

The words meant one thing, Xichen thought. But the slow smile and the sidelong look said something quite different indeed.

Notes: Da iko auha, Ahora’ipa. = I will return, Ahora’ipa

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #soaring au #nie mingjue #lan xichen #nielan #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #sangyao #mdzs au #cql au #Kristina writes tiny stories #complete on ao3

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antihero-writings · 4 years

Text

His Butler Cemetery, Chapter 3: The Problem of the Nights

Fandom: Black Butler | Kuroshitsuji (manga)

Fic Summary: Four visits to the cemetery, each growing in emotional intensity, and spanning backwards in time. (Spoilers for the manga!!)

(I'll put the links to chapters 1 & 2 in a reblog!!)

Chapter Summary: “Young Master, Edward. If something you held most dear suddenly shattered one day...What would you do?"

"Dear, God. What a terrible ordeal you've tasked my sister with...."

Character Focus: Edward and Lizzie Midford

Notes: Eyyy remember this fic? The one I planned to finish in October 2018? Hehe...Yeah...

I never forgot about this fic... life just kinda got in the way and I moved on to other things. I have so many fics on my computer that I just can't seem to figure out how to finish, and this chapter was one of them. Lately I've been trying to go through some of them and either just slap an ending on them, or split them into multiple chapters so it's more manageable, haha. So I just picked a way to end it, even if I'm not entirely satisfied XD

I actually really really like Edward as a character, and was kind of inspired by the quote above to write this. I was excited to write for him for this fic, and really really liked this chapter, so I couldn't go without posting it at some point!!I hope people still like it, even though it's been so long...I'd deeply appreciate it if you could leave a comment to let me know!!

By the way, I am NOT caught up on the manga, so please don't spoil anything from the recent chapters for me!!

Chapter 3, the Problem of the Nights:

Edward never could win against her.

Father would laugh and say that the Midford women had always been strong, and it was no cause for shame.

Still, there’s something particularly humiliating about getting your ass kicked by a cute little girl….Especially when she’s your younger sister.

The world would coo over her: her pretty shoes, her curly blonde hair, her frilly dresses, and sigh in awe that someone so cute could be so skilled with the sword.

And, if he was perfectly honest, she was incredible. He would never deny that, never say the praise was undeserved. Often he was her biggest fan, her loudest cheerleader, and if anyone dare lay a finger on her, or say a single syllable of slander, they’d certainly have a sword to answer to.

And, he supposed, her proficiency was good for him too, in a way, because it pushed him to work harder.

But no matter how many days he spent waking up early to wave his sword at empty air, no matter how much mastery he had compared to his classmates, he could never catch up to her. Sometimes it felt like the race was rigged, and he wasn’t moving at all.

He applauded her, admired her.

But sometimes he would throw his sword into the wall and demand that it listen to him. That he, a thirteen-year-old boy could and should be better at swordplay, than a ten-year-old girl who decorated her world in pink plushies and bonnets.

When the other nobles chatted with Lizzie, and about Lizzie, and then turned to him to ask what he’d been doing, sure he had a story to top hers…

Sometimes he would hold his head high and boast of his accomplishments, and Lizzie would have only the loftiest of compliments to add.

But other times that question would ring through his head, and his tongue would fall limp in his mouth.

Because no matter how much he’d done, if he was the top of his class, he could never triumph Lizzie.

What have I done lately? Not much compared to Lizzie.

Mother was not the kind of person who would answer for you; unlike most mothers she wouldn’t boast of her children smallest accomplishments. In fact, in even their greatest endeavors she could find “room for improvement.” He wasn’t complaining: this too was a good thing; he would never be where he was now without that.

But sometimes he just wished she would just wrap her arms around him and say that she was proud of him.

There was Father at least, who was the softie of the family. Who would clap him on the back and tell Francis not to be so hard on him, that he’d done more than well. His eyes would shine as he promised he was a champion in his own right, as well as his eyes. And that helped. Still…

Still, he didn’t feel like much.

It wasn’t that he was bad at things, or dumb. He was quite smart, good at school, but he didn’t…excel.

The thing about Lizzie is that there were only a few things she practiced, but she excelled at them.

Jack of all trades, master of none, so they say.

And no one notices you unless you’re very good at something, or very bad at it.

So he faded into the background. Lizzie’s cheerleader. His parents’ son. And he told himself he was alright with that.

Beneath all those intermingling feelings of pride and jealousy was a question:

How could such a small girl hold so much fight inside her? How could those gentle eyes hold so much fire?

It didn’t make sense. She was supposed to be sweet, and gentle, and soft. So what was it that drove her to get the gold when he could only ever snag second place?

He got his answer when he met Ciel.

The twin boys, one of whom she was destined to marry—some day, after they had learned how to be gentlemen in a world of men who weren’t gentle.

Well he couldn’t approve of that without meeting him first.

The twins were…so small. Smaller even than Lizzie. Big blue eyes like stormy days.

One marched up to him and demanded who he was, and what he was doing there, and that his name was Ciel, and he was to be the Earl some day. The other, hid behind his father’s pant leg, and muttered his greeting from afar. And when Mother scolded Mr. Phantomhive to keep them in line, and comb their hair properly, even the bolder one shirked into the shadows.

He finally understood what Lizzie had that he didn’t:

Something to protect.

When he took up the sword, it was for the sake of the sword itself, and a name.

When she took it up, she did so for something more than the trade, the passed-down-name, the skill. The sword was a means, not an end. There was something—someone—she loved, or was learning to at least, and if that person were ever threatened, she didn’t want to stand on the sidelines and cry. She wanted to stand between him and danger and do everything in her power to keep the hurt at bay.

She didn’t care about being well-versed in the sword: she just cared about protecting him. The sword was simply how she’d do that. And, well, the irony of being something is that you’ll only be good at it when you’re looking beyond it.

And it was that, that passion, that idea that there was something beyond, that this was all in preparation for a war against anything that stood to harm him, that was why she excelled. Because he didn’t have anything calling him to it, besides the fact that the Midford’s had always been good at it. As long as he didn’t have a reason for it within himself, he would never excel.

So, from then on, he never complained, silently or aloud. From then on he was nothing more than her firmest supporter, and when people asked what he had done lately, expecting his story to top hers, he could be okay that he would never be better than her at some things.

And then, one snowy December, when they were putting their finishing touches on their Christmas tree, and competing to make the best cookies, someone arrived at their door to tell them they found Mr. and Mrs. Phantomhive in a pool of their own blood…and the twins…they didn’t find.

She didn’t cry. She didn’t immediately burst into a thousand shards of glass like he would have expected.

He would have liked it better that way. Because he could deal with that. Because he could do something, he could run up to her, hug her, kiss her, comfort her. Be the big brother.

No, the Midford women had always been strong, and she was no exception. She didn’t fall to pieces. She went into her room, put on a black dress and bonnet—(as was proper). And she went to the funeral, as all good little noblegirls should.

And all throughout the service, as they lay Rachel and Vincent to rest, beside two little graves they all knew were empty, as the vicar read from a Bible a passage about sheep, and finding your way home, he kept glancing at her, kept waiting to see the tears to stream down her face, for her to fall to her knees.

Her eyes were big, and blank, and full of almost-to-the-surface tears, yet she was sugar and spice and everything nice; the picture of an English noblewoman.

She went about her day, whole, composed, proper. And no one could have guessed that grief wasn’t another thing she excelled at.

But he’d never quite forget that night. The sound he heard, even through the passing years.

That night, after the funeral, after mother sent her off to bed with a few proud words, and father kissed her one to many times, after Edward grabbed her hand and asked “Are you sure you’re okay?” After she said “Yes, I’ll be fine.”—

He woke up to the sound of screaming.

He shot up in bed, wondering if he’d dreamed it, heart yammering, breath burning. He didn’t bother to light a candle, just stumbled out of bed, and ran down the halls, calling her name.

When he reached her room, she was sitting on the floor beside her bed in her little white nightdress, and tear tracks staining her face; in pieces. A perfect gold stain on the world.

She reached her hands weakly out to him as he knelt down before her, and wrapped her arms so tight around him that he thought she might break him too…and she cried into his nightshirt until she stained it. But he didn’t care.

Many little girls run to their parents in this situation. But he knew, if she had gone to their parents, mother would have told her there was no use crying, they weren’t coming back, and father would have doted on her, and she wanted neither…or rather, something in between. So she came to him.

This wasn’t the last time.

During the day she would go about her life as normal.

But every night she woke up. It was always somewhere between 14:00 and 16:00 he heard her screaming, calling the name of the sky. Either that, or he would hear a faint knock on his door, and see the face of a broken little girl in need of her big brother.

It became muscle memory for Edward to comfort her. To throw off his covers and run to his sister’s room, or he would pat the blankets beside him to say come here, and either way he’d wrap his arms around her tight, as if trying to wring the tears out of her, and she would sob until they burned rivers in his skin. He would brush his hands through her golden hair, whispering things in her ear like shh, and it’ll be okay, and singing old lullabies, all the while knowing knowing the quiet would come. And he would pray. Pray that things would be okay. Pray that the one who created the universe would grant some solace to this sweet little sheep.

He would pray, and the next day, with tears barely barred from his own cheeks, he would kick the wall, and demand why and how a merciful God could do this to someone like her. Why he would take good people from the world.

—(He would pray, and he thought one day he heard Him say They aren’t yours to keep.)—

Sometimes she asked if they could go to the cemetery in the morning. They would dress in their finest blacks, looking like ink blots on the world, onyx with gold filigree in the cracks. She would carry bouquets of flowers, the petals sifting off in the wind, and add them to those there, left by the miscellaneous others who cared for them…And she wouldn’t cry then, no. She wouldn’t cry until it was past the witching hour.

She didn’t give up. Didn’t stop living. For all intents and purposes she was the same as she’d always been…but something was missing when they crossed blades.

She woke up less and less as time went by. Eventually her visits to his room were stray nights in the grand scheme of things, and she didn’t cry so hard. Sometimes she’d just sit with him, or ask to play chess, or chat with him till the morning came.

And then one day, after the grief didn’t burn so badly in her chest—

Her fiancé came back without an eye, and with a pitch black butler.

He didn’t talk about what he’d gone through, or how he’d come back. He didn’t speak of that day his parents died. He didn’t mention how his brother died—he didn’t mention much of his brother at all.

He wasn’t that brazen, bold, grinning child they knew before. He was dark, and serious…and he never smiled.

And Edward was glad to have him back…yet from the start he couldn’t help but feel…uneasy. Like something was wrong. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. There were too many questions, too many gaps in information, and the darkness that seemed to flock to this boy now didn’t help.

And Edward, though Lizzie’s fire was only stronger since he came back, her skill even more unmatchable, was at last able to get a few good hits in sometimes.

He couldn’t believe he never saw it before, his reason beyond the sword, the task of carrying on a name... it was there from the beginning.

He knew who it was he had to protect.

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atopearth · 4 years

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Shall We Date? Ninja Shadow Part 34 - Kou Route

LOL, the appearance of the brothers were so abrupt at the Meiko Salon but I guess it settles things faster that way. Anyway, Kou professing his love to the heroine on the street so quickly was pretty crazy lol! How did he fall for her so fast?! What attracted him?? Was it her killing stance when she took care of some guy as a vigilante?? Hahahah, I hope he tells us soon lol. It was really cute how they handled the usual appearance of Suetsugu. The heroine always loses her composure for a bit when she sees him, so it was nice to see Kou comfort her after seeing how distressed she was and how much it pained her having to allow him to live until the Shogunate gave permission to the Nagasaki Vigilantes to kill him.

Aww, despite how silly Kou can get, I really liked how he properly apologised for seeing her with only a hand towel covering herself (when she went to the bath thinking no one was in there). It wasn't his fault but I thought it was really gentlemanly of him to apologise since he obviously noticed she was a girl when she was trying so hard to hide it as well. I like how Kou insists on calling the heroine Saori when they're alone. I think the heroine really appreciates it, especially since she's burdened with the idea that she's lying to everyone as her brother and is constantly called by a name that's not hers, so even if it's for a little bit, I think it's nice that she can truly be herself. Omggg I love the CG! Kou braiding her hair and putting the hairpin on her was just so nice of him and he made her look so beautiful! I feel like the heroine always feels like short hair doesn't make her much of a girl anymore, so I'm glad Kou showed her that short hair could make her look just as pretty and could make her just as happy to wear a hairpin.

It's actually pretty cute how much Kou dotes on his brothers and how much he talks about them lol. I think it's nice that Kou and the heroine can share how great their brothers are and how much they love them haha. I think it was really nice that the heroine said she would stay by his side and share his burden (with the doll/puppet guy stuff) because Kou is too protective over his brothers and doesn't want to involve them. It's actually kinda cute how Tou is ignoring Kou because Kou requested that they be left out of the mission to protect his brothers lol. It's nice to see how Tou being kidnapped as a child affected Kou though; it made him even more adamant on protecting his brothers as much as he can in the present. I think it was really sweet to see Kou consult the heroine for her little sister perspective on how Tou might be feeling right now before pursuing Tou for a proper conversation. He realised that he needed to think a bit more about why Tou was mad at him before talking to him again and I thought that was really considerate and thoughtful, since he probably knew that they'd just fight again if he just pushed his opinion on to him. I loved how Kou apologised properly to Tou, and Tou told him properly that he didn't want to just be dead weight and be protected, he also wanted to protect Kou. It was a really simple argument, but telling the other one their feelings properly was something difficult, so I think it was nice to see that.

Aww I loved their date with her being back to her female "self". It was pretty funny how Kou thought the white roses at Hades' place was beautiful and showed her them, and then realised Hades was the owner and tried to insult them but then felt bad because the flowers didn't do anything wrong. Why is he so adorable hahaha. As expected though, something delicate like growing flowers was Griffon's hobby haha. I'm glad Griffon gave them a bouquet, so sweet~ I love how the heroine was upfront about wanting to know Kou's feelings, and he told her that even though he does tell beautiful women like Haru that they're beautiful, the heroine is the only one he flirts with, which is true~ I think it's really great to know that the reason why Kou likes her so much is because she taught him to work together with the people he cares about by supporting each other rather than him one-sidedly protecting everyone. She taught him that just as he wants to protect the people he cares about, they want to protect him too. It's understandable that the heroine wants to properly respond to his feelings when she can be a girl again though. Anyway, Kou being able to rewrite the pacts between the puppets and their creator (Kasumi, the puppet they're chasing after because he attacked their village etc) is pretty cool! Nice to know he actually tried it in desperation when he wanted to save the heroine because she got caught before and now he’s improved and has a better grasp on how to use it better. It was nice to see how much Kou appreciated the heroine for teaching him to rely on others and not fight alone.

Aww, I love how natural it was for Kou to tell her that he was planning to stay here with the heroine, since even though they "dealt" with Kasumi, they couldn't find his body after he fell off the cliff, and he did say he would come back.. I think it's so cute how happy Kou is with the heroine though, it's so adorable. Awww! Kou placing the sachet with the heroine's favourite scent next to his pillow so he can sleep well knowing it's her favourite is so cute. Just seeing how happy he was sleeping peacefully and having sweet dreams was really nice. I love how they snuggled a bit in the futon together~ Kinda surprised they didn't go to the "next step" considering it usually happens in the Sweet Ending but it's all right, I like fluffy endings like this too~

Overall, I really loved Kou! It's really surprising because Kou was my least favourite in terms of looks and I didn't think his personality was very appealing either, but omggg, he's so sweet and cute. I love how he loves his brothers so much that he's overprotective, and I find it so adorable how much he dotes on them. But I think what I love most was that the over abundance of his love made him and Tou fight, allowing him to understand that what he needed to do wasn't protect his brothers alone but instead rely on his brothers and protect them by sharing their burdens and fights together instead of taking everything on himself. I love how the heroine was the one who helped him understand that because she was a younger sibling herself and kinda understood Tou, so it was really refreshing to see her help the brothers understand each other and their feelings better. I also really enjoyed the romance because it was slow but subtle. Even though Kou liked her from the beginning, you could really see how much he continued to fall for her with how helpful and supportive she was the whole time, I really liked how they helped each other grow and be happy. It's such a cute and happy route that it always made me smile whenever reading it haha.

#ninja shadow #shall we date ninja shadow

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recentanimenews · 4 years

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Bookshelf Briefs 6/8/20

Ace of the Diamond, Vol. 26 | By Yuji Terajima | Kodansha Comics (digital only) – The fall season has begun! Furuya is wearing the ace number and dominates the first game, much to Eijun’s distress, since he’s still suffering from “the yips” after striking a batter with an inside pitch. Thankfully, Miyuki and Coach Kataoka arrange for Chris to drop by and teach Eijun a new trick, which seems to help get him out of his doldrums. Meanwhile, Furuya’s performance begins to deteriorate, rumors about Coach Kataoka’s imminent departure begin to circulate, and the guy who’s been observing them (but who is probably Kataoka’s replacement) plans to focus solely on cultivating Furuya the ace and objects to how much time and effort Kataoka devotes to the other players. I mean, I can only assume that this guy is going to get sent packing at some point, but I definitely appreciate that Terajima-sensei is able to make me this anxious about his presence. Perennially recommended. – Michelle Smith

A Certain Scientific Railgun: Astral Buddy, Vol. 3 | By Kazuma Kamachi, Yasuhito Nogi, and Kiyotaka Haimura | Seven Seas – The first half of this volume is a giant flashback, and you know those are always bad in the Indexverse. Expect dead kids, dead adults, and a whooooooole lot of evil science. Unfortunately, there’s also a lot here that relies on the reader knowing one of the antagonists is from New Testament Vol. 11… which we have not seen in English, and might never see. Too much continuity. Junko continues to be laughably retroactively strong, going toe to toe with a level 5 here. And there’s the bond between her and Misaki, which may be “master and servant” but is also a close friendship (and yuri tease, as Misaki herself demonstrates). Railgun fans will like this. – Sean Gaffney

The Girl from the Other Side: Siúil, a Rún, Vol. 8 | By Nagabe | Seven Seas – The eighth volume of The Girl from the Other Side is unbearably sad—so much so that I struggled to finish it, as watching Shiva come to terms with losing Teacher is a shattering experience. Compounding my sense of anguish were the final chapters, in which we learn why the Inside world was so desperately interested in Shiva. The parallels between her situation and our current health crisis are impossible to ignore, reminding us about the human cost of capitulating to fear, ignorance, and superstition in the face of a pandemic. In a less fraught moment, I’d be inclined to recommend The Girl from the Other Side for the lessons it imparts, but I think it’s OK to decide that Nagabe’s allegory is a little too on-the-nose to offer insight or comfort right now. – Katherine Dacey

Go with the Clouds, North-by-Northwest, Vol. 3 | By Aki Irie | Vertical Comics – After two messy but interesting volumes that see-sawed between mystery and travelogue, Go with the Clouds, North-by-Northwest finds its groove in volume three. Michitaka—who disappeared from the previous volume—takes center stage in the latest installment, as Kei inadvertently stumbles across some important clues about what happened to his aunt and uncle back in Japan. Though Kei’s discovery propels the story in a new and unexpected direction, the latest plot twists feel earned; the sometimes awkward shifts in tone and genre that characterized the first two volumes are smoothed over by new revelations about Michitaka, and a new sense of urgency about solving the trail of gruesome deaths he’s left behind. The result is a compelling story that has the trappings of a Scandinavian crime show but the soul of an X-Files episode. Recommended. – Katherine Dacey

Kakushigoto: My Dad’s Secret Ambition, Vol. 3 | By Kouji Kumeta | Kodansha Comics (digital only) – Whereas Zetsubou-sensei made a point to seemingly attack everything in the world for leaving the author (and, by extension, Nozomu) in despair, Kakushigoto is zeroing in on the manga profession in particular. Here we get mysteries answered, such as why are the pages of weekly magazines colored differently, who determines the order the stories go in, and what is the exact nature of a deadline? We don’t get real answers for any of these, as it turns out things are very fluid. As for Hime, she’s still cute, and still investigating things with her not-Zetsubou girls mystery club. And there’s still that flashforward threatening us with the death of Hime’s father. Will the series get that dark? – Sean Gaffney

The Misfit of Demon King Academy: History’s Strongest Demon King Reincarnates and Goes to School with His Descendants, Vol. 1 | By Shu, Kayaharuka, and Yoshinori Shizuma | Square Enix – This isn’t my usual fare, but I hoped it would help with my Welcome to Demon School! Iruma-kun withdrawal. And it actually did! Anoth Voldigord was the all-powerful demon king, but sacrificed himself to end a perpetual war with humanity, pledging to reincarnate in 2000 years. When he does so, he’s invited to a school attendend by his many descendants but nobody believes he’s who he says he is because his magic is too vast to be measured and all of the facts about his reign have been distorted or forgotten over time. Anoth isn’t too likable at first, but the fact that his smug announcements of superiority garner no reaction, his jokes fall flat, and he must deal with a pair of doting and dimwitted human parents all help to humble him a bit. I guess it sometimes pays to venture out of your comfort zone! – Michelle Smith

My Senpai Is Annoying, Vol. 1 | By Shiromanta | Seven Seas – Thankfully, the senpai is not annoying in the way that I feared—this is all on her. Futaba is a new OL at a company who is so short she looks about twelve years old. She also has a near-terminal case of tsundere. This mostly comes out when around Harumi, her senpai at the company, who is huge, nice, helps her with her work and occasionally lightly teases her, and she is absolutely not ready to deal with it. This manga has one joke—Futaba is embarrassed and gets mad to hide it—and if you like that joke, it can be fun. It’s also based on a webcomic, with most “chapters” being about two pages. Towards the end, there’s longer original content, and that works much better. Recommended for those who like 4-komas and tsunderes. – Sean Gaffney

New Game!, Vol. 9 | By Shotaro Tokuno | Seven Seas – You got the sense that Kou wasn’t going to stay in France forever, and sure enough, she’s back by the end of this volume. There’s some nice stories here about not-quite-rivalries between her and Aoba’s friend Hotaru, and of course the inevitable yuri tease between Kou and Rin, which will never rise above a certain level but that level is pretty damn high. Other than that, a big part of this volume features the danger of farming out parts of your game to outside companies to complete, as they’re harder to control and can easily affect quality in ways that need to be fixed somehow. We also see Aoba continue to grow into her role as a real adult, even as she continues to never quite take the starring role. Cute. – Sean Gaffney

Primitive Boyfriend, Vol. 1 | By Yoshineko Kitafuku | Seven Seas – Kamigome Mito is popular with the boys at her school but feels nothing for any of them, finding them all insufficiently manly. Mito is lamenting her circumstances while working on the family farm, when she suddenly receives a visit from Spica, Goddess of the Harvest. Mito’s hard work has not gone unnoticed and as a reward, Spica sends her back in time 2.5 million years to meet her soulmate, a member of the species Australopithecus Garhi. He takes care of Mito, she falls for him, and when she’s sent home just as his life is in peril, she’s desperate to return. It’s pretty fun, I guess, if you don’t let yourself get bogged down in the realities of how their relationship will never work. Thankfully, it’s also only three volumes long. It’s short, it’s unique, and thus I will keep reading to see how it all plays out. – Michelle Smith

Species Domain, Vol. 8 | By Noro Shunsuke | Seven Seas – The series has now reached the Culture Festival, and seems like it might slowly be gliding to an ending, which in a series like this means pairing up more people. The “joke” confession that wasn’t in the last volume gets revisited here, with much embarrassment all around. Kazamori’s desperation for other girls to be attracted to Ohki may end up getting her in trouble down the road. Mikasagi explains why he isn’t ready to commit to anything, etc. There’s also an extended bathhouse scene, for those who like fanservice, which includes discussion about where Mizuno should be, on the men’s or women’s side. Again, I appreciate the care they’re taking with this character. Fun. – Sean Gaffney

The Way of the Househusband, Vol. 3 | By Kousuke Oono | Viz Media -As I have said in previous reviews, you read this series for its one gag, and should not expect more than that one gag done extremely well. Beyond that, here we see that our househusband is not the only former yakuza trying to make a living doing mundane everyday things, and that it’s much easier to change what you do than how you act. We also see why he’s such a good husband, manipulating things a bit so that his wife can meet some live action Pretty Cure actors (or rather the non-copyright violating Pretty Cure knockoff). That said, I think it’s Santa’s appearance that is absolutely the highlight of the volume, along with the stunned reaction of all the children. Hilarious. – Sean Gaffney

By: Katherine Dacey

#Anime #News #Manga Bookshelf

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skookworks · 4 years

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Gallery – Half Hour Sketches 31 to 60

From last year, the second set of thirty daily/half hour sketches. Do you have any favorites?

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Story Seed #45 A Bad Seed Blooms

Karren was always a difficult child. Demanding, clingy, prone to throwing tantrums when she didn’t get her way. Dealing with her on a daily basis was enough to convince her parents that they didn’t want to have another child. Yes she was often charming. Yes she was usually very entertaining and she could seem very loving but, damn, she was awfully narcissistic.

When Karren was eight, her mother became pregnant (their contraception method failed) and her parents decided that they’d keep the baby. Karren would adapt, she’d have to. Right? And for a while it seemed like Karren would. She was delighted by the idea of having a sibling. She had fun playing nursemaid and helper to her mother and she revelled in the appreciation that her parents showed her for her new attitude.

The baby came, a little sister. Karren played doting big sister, giving cuddles, helping with bottles and rocking her to sleep. But, her parents had less attention for her and got crankier form lack of sleep, the old Karren resurfaced. She was jealous of the baby, angry that it just wouldn’t behave. Her play became meaner and rougher. One morning her mother caught her holding a pillow over the baby’s face. She wasn’t trying to kill the baby, she was just trying to make it stop crying, she didn’t know what she was doing, did she?

Her parents made arrangements to send Karren to a boarding school. Until she could depart her parents never left her alone with the baby and they locked her room at night.

Two days before Karren was to depart her mother took her and the baby to run errands. Karren had been behaving. She seemed contrite. Maybe safe? As they returned to the house their car was blocked in by a pair of black SUVs and armed men pulled them from the vehicle.

Karren’s parents were comfortably upper middle class. Karren’s grandfather, her father’s father, was rich and had made a lot of enemies getting that way. The kidnappers were in the employ of a Russian gangster that Grandfather had doublecrossed.

Karren, her mother and her little sister are taken to a remote location. Karen’s mother is forced to record a ransom plea. Karren pouts, Karren yells, Karren is not a cooperative hostage. The kidnappers beat her, tie her up, cut off one of her little fingers and send it with the ransom demand.

Karren’s father is in shock and desperate. Grandfather is disappointed. His son was always a weak thing. Grandfather harrumphs and takes charge. He has his security chief put together a team to rescue the kidnapped mother and her girls. But Grandfather didn’t get rich by giving a shit about anyone but himself. The team is to rescue the family if it’s convenient but it’s more important to him that they kill as many of the Russians as they can. The “girls” are expendable.

And Karren? Karren is very, very mad. Her parents could be boring. Her parents could be strict. Her parents often spoiled her fun. But they’d never hit her. They’d never hurt her. And now these smelly men have dared to hurt HER and threaten HER mother and HER little sister?

Karren is clever. Karren will get out of her bounds. Karren will make them all very, very sorry.

Recommendation

I am behind on my newsletters. I have a virtual stack of them waiting to be read and, at the moment, I can’t remember which ones I’ve already recommended. So this week I’m recommending a youtube channel: Cartoonist Kayfabe. Jim Rugg and Ed Piskor are veteran comics creators and they regular post a lot of videos about comics. I’ll let them introduce themselves –

Local News

I don’t have heroes. When I was a kid I kept discovering that the folks my history classes promoted as role models were often pretty horrible people. Even the ones the weren’t horrible were usually … human. That is, they weren’t necessarily nice, they weren’t always faithful and they often did things that were sloppy and stupid. As a kid, I was looking for perfect heroes to model myself after and real humans just kept failing provide me with the examples I wanted.

As I grew up I came to admire the people who stood up, who took action to make the world a better place, regardless of whether they were also shitty spouses, terrible parents or lousy friend. Rather, I’ve learned to admire the noble actions they took and accept that the rest of their lives and behaviors were probably pretty messy.

I’ve been following and reading Warren Ellis‘s work since I encountered his columns at 9th Art back in the 90s. I posted some art in the Remake/Remodel challenges in the FreakAngels forums. I found a lot of interesting newsletters (and was inspired to do this one) because he recommended them. I don’t get many regular comics these days but I did pay attention to what he had coming out next. I mostly heard about that when I read his latest newsletter. I only heard about the controversy when he posted his last one. This essay gives the pertinent details with links to more info.

Of all the bad actors who have come in to light in the last few years, Ellis is the first one whose work really matters to me. After a few days passage I’m still … I don’t know. I believe the women. You don’t get 30 or more artists to agree on something unless there is truth there. And they’ve got the emails. (And being a whistleblower is never about money unless you’re already rich and famous. Being a poor whistleblower means you, at best, become a famous and poor whistleblower. Anyone who thinks that someone calls out injustice for fame and glory and wealth is someone who doesn’t actually care about injustice.)

I admire his work. I’m sorry he’s behaved poorly and kind of relieved that he didn’t behave worse. I sympathize more with the women who had to put up with his shit than with him for what’s happening now. What struck me, in his statement, was this –

“I have never considered myself famous or powerful, to the point where I’ve made a lot of bad jokes about it for twenty-odd years.”

It’s a reminder to me that our perceptions of ourselves are often off the mark. You might think that someone in Ellis’ position, who has had the accomplishments and influence that he’s had, would have a better perception of his place in the world. But most of us don’t. Most of us hear our internal dialogues, our fears and our doubts, much louder than the feedback we get from the outside. We rarely perceive ourselves accurately.

It’s a reminder that I/we have much more power in the world than I/we think I/we do. It’s a reminder to be more aware, to think before speaking and acting. It’s a reminder to talk more about perceptions and expectations even when doing that seems like it’s going to kill the flow of an interaction. I may think things are hunky dory but the person I’m with might just be being polite.

I don’t think I’m currently in a position of power. In previous jobs I have been a supervisor and an assistant manager and a manager. As I moved up in responsibility I became conscious of having a responsibility to model “professional” behavior. Getting wasted and flirting with one’s coworkers isn’t a good look for the boss. Now I’m just one mail carrier in a station of about a hundred other carriers. I go to work. I don’t really socialize. I just want to put the hours in so I can get paid and go home and draw. Do I have power? Of course I do. I’m an older white guy who, to the new hires at least, probably seems like I’ve been around forever. Postal carriers have a union. Carriers advance by seniority. There’s a culture of not ratting on your fellow carrier when they misbehave. So I maybe could fuck with the new hires and get away with it. I’m pretty sure that veteran carriers already do that.

I have gotten tired. I have withdrawn. But I’m not dead. It’s time to pay a little more attention at work and in the world. I am not a hero. But I do have power and I can take a few noble actions now and then.

Tuesday Night Party Club #25 Gallery - Half Hour Sketches 31 to 60 From last year, the second set of thirty daily/half hour sketches.

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oops-prow-did-it-again · 4 years

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Pokémon Black: The Novel - Chapter 6 (Amber’s Secrets)

Prologue and more info

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Pokémon Black: The Novel on FFN

Pokémon Black: The Novel on AO3

Pokémon Retold the series on AO3

---------------------------- WARNING: Discussion of mental illness/mention of suicide. Strong language.

Hil spent the next morning following the day training in the Dreamyard in the hostel at Striaton City’s Pokémon Center. Cheren and Bianca had already left an hour or so before, but Hil was only just sitting up in his bed. He had crashed in his day clothes and his hoodie clung to his frame in a cold sweat. He grimaced and pulled it off, flinging it to the floor. The rest of his clothes felt even worse against his skin. He walked over to his bag and rifled through it until he found another set of clothes—a plain white shirt, a pair of jeans that was probably several sizes too small, as well as undergarments—and tossed them on the bed. He then readied some various kinds of pokémon kibble he had bought from the store the prior evening and let his pokémon free, allowing them to roam the room and eat while he continued to get ready.

After a shower, he put on those fresh clothes, and took his daily clothes down to the public laundry room. After feeding the machine some cash and setting a timer for when it would be done, he returned to his room and flopped ungraciously on the bed. Noodle immediately jumped up onto the bed and curled up on his chest. Hil snorted and gently ran a hand down his back before scooting the Snivy off him gently.

“Okay, everyone,” Hil cleared his throat as he sat up, “I got a question.”

Noodle rested his head in Hil’s lap and looked up at him patiently. Roadie, Lucky, Crest, and his newest party member—a Munna named Sleepy he caught later in the evening following the incident in the Dreamyard with Team Plasma—followed suit. Roadie and Lucky sat on their haunches with their ears pricked; Crest partially climbed up Hil’s left leg. Sleepy, on the other hand, opted to merely glance in his direction from where she hovered a few feet away.

“You all understood that way better than I expected you to,” Hil mumbled. “Well, anyway… Uh, I’m gonna feel stupid explaining this,” he laughed. “So, there’s this thing, called the gym challenge.”

Nobody’s expression changed. Of course, Hil thought irritably at himself.

“Uh… to explain, um… Well, you see, you know what we were doing yesterday, training at the Dreamyard? It’s kinda like that, but the opponents are a lot stronger, and you usually gotta fight a few in a row without a break.” He waved his hands animatedly as he spoke and looked like he was performing the world’s worst game of charades. “And if you beat all eight of these gyms, there’s even more powerful pokémon you can battle, the Elite Four. And after that, the champion. It’s called the Pokémon League. But… it’s not required. And you don’t have to finish it if you start.”

Hil blinked as the awkward stares only felt like they grew more intense. Roadie began to chew on his leg a little before turning his attention back to Hil.

“So… I guess my question is, do you guys want to do that?” He pet Noodle on the head and smiled as Noodle trilled cutely under his touch. “I just… Noodle, that battle against N… you got really hurt and the opponents out there are only gonna get way harder. I don’t want to put you guys through pain like that if you don’t want to.”

Noodle abruptly pulled himself free of Hil’s grasp and hopped to the floor, adopting an attacking stance, his tail raised high and head lowered slightly. He shot some vines from his shoulders and gently tapped Lucky on the forehead. She jumped spastically, all of her violet fur puffing out, and then looked back at Noodle cautiously. Noodle gave a little encouraging hop and hiss, and then Lucky made a similar pose back, her fur smoothing out once again.

Roadie, Crest, and Sleepy even joined in on the mock fight. At least until Sleepy began to issue a sing-song sound that made everyone feel a little drowsy. Hil quickly called her name and asked her to please stop, and to his surprise, she did. Everyone then turned their attention back to Hil, and began to excitedly bounce around his feet. It was Noodle who rushed toward the door to the room and scratched at the door lightly, his eyes downturned in something of a pout.

“Okay, so am I right to take that as a yes, you guys want to take on the gym challenge?” Hil questioned with a raised brow. He honestly hadn’t expected them to understand him so clearly, or be so eager. Everyone gave an eager bounce in response to his question, Lucky landing in his lap and rolling over to show her belly to him. He had figured out yesterday it was a bad idea to take her invitation to pet it, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless. “Alright then. Gym challenge it is. Gotta wait for my clothes, though. Sorry, Noodle,” he laughed as the Snivy hissed and stalked back over to him from the doorway.

-----------------

Your Discussion with Vince

Vince

why did you text me just to tell me that youre pissed at me, youre always pissed at me

Well since you cant be fucked to pick up the phone

Vince

Maybe Id pick it up more often if you wouldn’t be such a bitch

strong words, big boy, mr. bug trainer

Vince

What do you want amber

You had better call tonight. Hil’s going to be here. You need to talk to him.

Vince

I will talk to him

You know I will

It’s you I don’t want to talk to

Real mature Vincent

That had been how all of Amber’s discussions with Vince had gone in the months leading up to his accident. They could have filled books with the myriad angry text messages sent back and forth, both too isolated from the rest of the world to find anyone else to confide in or take their stresses out on, and both fed up with and wounded by the other. It was such a tragic and brutal ending to a closeness Amber had hoped would last a lifetime as they had once vowed.

She had found herself scrolling through the texts again after a few failed attempts at reaching Hil through the Xtransceiver. It was so lonely without him at home anymore and she couldn’t shake the feeling he was ignoring her calls on purpose. She could understand why, but that didn’t make it hurt or upset her any less. She missed him. She missed them both.

She had met Vince on her own travels through Unova. He had been charming and goofy, taking joy in making her laugh. He was a much better trainer than she and helped her traverse Unova that much more easily. She had never really enjoyed the gym challenge that much and as such, had appreciated his help. He mowed through the gyms easily and it seemed nothing could stop him. Nothing could stop them. Each day was a new adventure and they always were on the move.

Vince never beat the champion, but he always would manage to beat at least one or two of the Elite Four. All that gave him pause from ambitiously pursuing his goal of displacing Champion Alder was finding out Amber was pregnant just a couple of years after they had met. He had been thrilled at the news, had doted on her endlessly, and used much of the cash he had amassed over his victories as a trainer to purchase their little home in Nuvema Town. They had decided jointly the quieter town would be perfect to settle down in. Amber had been especially happy to discover two other women in the town were also expecting—Shea Goode and Britney Achron, now better known as the mothers of Bianca and Cheren respectively.

Everything had seemed to be going so well. But that was where the record started skipping. No longer able to travel long distances due to needing to help Amber, Vince could no longer battle the tough opponents that gave him the cashflow he was used to. He took up odd jobs nearby—the Poké Mart in Accumula Town and Striaton City, a lab assistant in Nuvema, an assistant nurse at the Pokémon Center—but he’d always end up losing them in the end. He had a wanderlust that needed to be sated and the longer he sat still, the more he struggled. She had tried to be understanding at first and Vince had insisted he could handle it to help her and his son, but his actions never backed up his words. She had never been able to understand why he couldn’t just be happy with his homely life and settle in.

Despite their difficulties over the course of Hil’s younger years, up until he was about eleven, they managed to keep it mostly under wraps. Vince was still his boisterous self around his son, joking and having a good time, still managed to make ends meet. As Hil grew older, Vince realized he could travel farther distances since Amber didn’t need as much help, and so he did. He went on several week-long excursions deep into Unova’s heartland. Unlike when he was younger, however, he found battling exhausting and no longer as profitable as it had once been for him. He lost frequently and cut into their finances rather than gaining anything. Amber had been shocked and furious to discover that. In retrospect, he probably had just been out of practice… it had been years…

Oh, how she would have given anything to go back and change that scathing reaction. She was certain it had been what drove him to find a gym to train under. He had decided on Burgh in Castelia City since it was relatively nearby, and Burgh seemed to have himself better together than the Striaton City triplets or Lenora. It had been strenuous to get used to him being away for an entire week at a time, but she had been able to accept it on the condition that he came home over weekends.

After the first year, however, Vince had lamented he was making no progress at Burgh’s gym and he was still in the same class as some of the newest of trainers to the gym. Amber had blamed the fact it was a Bug-type gym. “You just can’t win with Bug-types,” she insisted. But Vince had just brushed her off.

“If that were the case, how is there a whole gym for them? One of Sinnoh’s Elite Four trains Bug-types. Bug-types aren’t bad. I’m bad,” Vince had groaned.

“Well, with that attitude…” Amber had mused.

“I’m going to start staying there most weekends.” Vince had spat that out quickly, as if ripping off a band-aid. That had been the precursor for the next two and a half years. Amber fought him on that tooth and nail. He wanted to stay at Castelia City constantly and send home money by mail to them, insisting he needed the time to focus and get better, and he could be far more of an inspiration to Hil if he wasn’t constantly flailing between jobs. Amber had taken her stance that him staying in Castelia would drive him insane due to his love for travel, and not only that, but he would neglect Amber and Hil both by doing so. Their arguing got them nowhere and Vince had upped and left in the middle of a Sunday night. Usually he didn’t leave to head to Castelia until Monday morning. He didn’t come back the next weekend.

That was when the calls began. No matter who initiated the calls, they always went the same. Amber would beg him to come home for the weekend. Vince would insist he couldn’t. The only thing that ever changed was how badly Amber reacted to him saying he couldn’t. At first, she had been openly upset and vulnerable with him, expressing her rawest feelings about it. That hadn’t worked. So later, she tried anger. She dug into him with a viciously sharp tongue. All that did was earn her self-deprecating comments.

“I’m sorry I can’t be enough for you,” he would shoot at her through the phone, his voice quivering and tense with emotion. “I don’t want to come home, this mess that I am, to you and Hil, okay? Just let me do this, Amber.”

“You’re only a mess because you won’t fucking come home!” Amber had snarled. “Just admit it. You don’t care.”

“That is not true!” Vince would practically wail. “Look, I’ve—”

“What, got to go?” Amber had sneered. “That’s right, Vince, run away. Find somewhere else to be. That’s all your good for.”

“Yeah, you’re right, it’s all I am good for! You happy now?” Vince had spat. She could tell he was crying now. It didn’t stop her.

“I’m sure Hil would love to hear all about that,” she had growled.

“Don’t you dare bring him up into this!” Vince had hissed. She could still tell he was sobbing, but between gasps for air to support his strangled lungs, he radiated rage. “This is not something that involves him, Amber! This is between you and me! He is the best thing that ever happened to either one of us, don’t go messing with him just because you hate me!”

“Why? Don’t want him to know just how awful of a father you really are?” She had latched onto his anxieties and sank her fangs in. Her heart had always pounded wildly whenever she said such nasty things to him. They had felt necessary at the time—a kick in the rear to get him to see sense—but no matter how often she did it… he never did. After a while, she came to despise him for that. Why couldn’t he have just… listened to her for once? What was wrong with him?

That was just the thing, though, wasn’t it? She had torn him down, worn away all his defenses; she had truly been his downfall. She still had no idea what she should have done differently, but she knew she should have done something different… and then the threats started. Another conversation came to mind from across that accursed Xtransceiver. At least they never used the video feature. They had both learned that was an accident waiting to happen with how hot their tempers could run.

“Oh, great, you’re calling me to bitch me out again,” he had sighed, “what do you want, Amber?”

“Hil’s birthday is this Saturday.”

“You know I’ll be there for that. I don’t know why you felt you had to call and remind me.” That was true. Vince had never missed anything important for Hil.

“I don’t know, you’re never fucking here otherwise!” Amber had practically shrieked into the phone. She didn’t know what she had been expecting from that remark, she had just been frustrated and wanted to get to him. She heard clattering from the other end of the line and muffled words.

“Fucking, you made me drop the Xtransceiver, Amber! It’s expensive!” he whined in a hoarse tone. She recalled thinking it was strange his voice was so raspy. Now, she knew it to mean he had likely been crying for quite some time prior to her call. “You keep saying that, you keep saying I’m never there, and I do my best! I am doing my best! I am doing what I think will help us in the long run! Maybe I just shouldn’t try if it’s never going to get better, huh? Maybe I should just go and blow my brains out, huh? Would that make you happy, Amber? Would that do something for you?”

“Vincent, don’t fucking start,” Amber had growled, “It’s not funny and you wouldn’t do it, anyway. Oh, what would Hil think if you did?” she had asked darkly. She had never believed him for an instant and had again merely taken the opportunity to rake into him.

“Shut up about him!” Vince had fiercely screamed from the other end. It had then been her turn to nearly drop her Xtransceiver. The power in his voice had surprised her. She had shakily held the phone back up to her ear. “Everything I am doing is to try to make life better for him! He is the best part of me and my life! You don’t get to just use him as a pawn in your arguments! How dare you use him like that! He’s your son, too! Can’t you respect him, even if you can’t respect me? Leave him out of it!”

“…You’re delusional, and I’m tired of talking to you, Vince. You don’t make any sense,” she had answered, exasperated, tired of hearing his voice. She had all but blotted out his words, having not wanted to listen to him.

“You’ve got no problem forcing me to listen to you but when I talk to you, I get nothing,” Vince had whimpered. “Goodbye, Amber.” He had hung up with a decisive click.

That had been their last conversation. Amber had decided she simply didn’t care about him anymore enough to keep him talking and had tried to use Hil as leverage in her argument to get him to shut up. It had worked, even if she had gotten an earful prior to him hanging up. She had slept easily that night, like a baby, curled up in her soft bed, weighted comforter warming her up to her shoulders… She wouldn’t discover until noon the next day that Vince had spent that night in a cold, tiled bathroom floor in a pool of his own blood.

Amber set the Xtransciever down and felt the sadness pulling her down like chains. She made her way into the kitchen and thumbed a lock hanging from a small drawer at the very end of the countertops. She used her other hand to retrieve keys from her pocket and she shifted them until she found a thin silver key that unlocked the drawer. Sitting inside was a set of three crinkled, lined papers, scrawled in rushed, ragged handwriting she knew belonged to Vince. One of them was stained a light pink on the very bottom right corner.

They had addressed Hil and Hil only. She had never given them to her son. She had read through them and the train of thought was all over the place, but mostly, the letter was a massive apology. Vince had spent it apologizing for failing to do better, telling Hil that he had been a lesser man, and he hoped Hil would do better than he had. Part of her kept the notes hidden from Hil for the strong language and the fact they spoke of concepts Hil, at fourteen, wouldn’t understand. Another part of her kept them hidden for fear of Hil hating her if he knew the truth… Not to mention, since the notes blathered on and on about Hil himself, she knew how Hil would take them. He would take them as proof he was to blame for his father’s death if he had been so prevalent on Vince’s mind moments before he took his life.

Since most of her and Vince’s arguments were over the phone, Hil never got to hear his father’s side of the story. He had always sympathized with her prior to Vince’s accident, but even so, hadn’t hated Vince by any means. She had enjoyed that strenuous relationship. She didn’t want Hil disliking either one of them… admittedly, she took selfish pride in Hil’s sympathy. Perhaps Vince had been right about her, and she did drag Hil into their squabbles…

She had spent the time following Vince’s accident trying to be there for Hil, trying to appease him and do whatever she felt was necessary to make him happy. But she couldn’t deny that Vince was always on her mind and she knew somehow, her efforts were only serving to push Hil away. She had resigned herself to accepting Hil’s distancing, but she never stopped trying, and obsessively checked behind him to make sure there was no threat of him doing the same. Thankfully, guns were incredibly rare in the Unova region, but that didn’t stop her paranoia from driving her to rifle through Hil’s room from top to bottom. That had also brought about conflict between them.

It had been a mess, if she was entirely honest. All of it. So much glass had shattered, and she still was finding shards lodged in her feet as time went on. Would they ever escape this part of their lives? Or was this just how life was from now on out? Was this her punishment for being so callous and cold toward Vince?

She gave a resigned sigh and picked up the notes in the drawer, clutching them close to her chest. It was a punishment she’d willingly serve, seeing how she had been his angel of death.

#pokemon #pkmn #pokemon black: the novel #pokemon retold #pokemon black and white #pokemon black #pokemon white #hilbert #hil #snivy #purrloin #patrat #amber whitacre #vincent whitacre #vince whitacre #amber #vince #vincent #whitacre

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justaramblingromantic · 6 years

Text

test drive

Characters/Pairing: Kinokuni Nene and Kuga Terunori/TeruNene

Type: Canon-divergent AU, Post-series, Passive Aggressive-verse, Roommates AU, Fake Dating AU, Freestyle

Word Count: 1856

A/N #01: Wahaha, I wanted to give some love to this rarepair, and so I did~ For additional context for this AU, see here.

“I still cannot believe that you never learned how to drive,” he was muttering in the passenger seat beside her.

“How does that even work in this day and age? Aren’t you the one who learned all the nonsense skills like artistically sticking a bunch of flowers together while stuck in the most physically uncomfortable position possible as well as five hundred and sixty different ways how to poke a man with a sharp pointy stick, but you never learned how to drive?”

She sent him a long, flat stare, irritated by his bitching. This was going to be a long, unbearable session, she could tell already.

“I never asked you to teach me in the first place so if you’re going to be like this, you can get out and I’ll ask someone else to help.”

Terunori crossed his arms before his chest and glowered at the unappreciative woman. She was seriously very uncute; sometimes he wondered why he found her oddly fascinating all the same. She was like that weird, maddening itch he couldn’t quite make go away; it was immensely aggravating at times. Luckily he knew to keep his unflattering opinion to himself, or else he would have been even more peeved to learn that she pretty much found him just as annoying, too.

“Ask someone else? Who? Your kind and considerate ex-husband?”

She continued to stare at him in a rather unimpressed manner. Everything about him was loud and flashy and unnecessarily confrontational. He was also full of swagger, capricious and temperamental; she disliked noisy, hotblooded men like that.

“You’re the cattiest little man I’ve ever met,” she announced in that aggravating, passive tone of hers, and then they were glaring daggers at each other.

“And you’re dating this catty little man so I wonder what that says about you, anesan,” he sniped back. They glared at each other some more, now both utterly cross after this mandatory daily gratuitous mashing of each other’s grumpy buttons.

“So, are we still gonna do this, or what?”

She wanted to glower at him some more, but stoically turned her gaze forward instead, recomposing herself with admirable effort and schooling her features. He was infuriating in the way that he always breached her barriers with his sheer obnoxiousness whether she wanted him to or not. All those years of self-cultivation and learning how to remain calm and tranquil from chado and calligraphy sure were coming in handy now, dealing with this childish brat.

“I’m doing it with or without you.”

“Seeing that it’s my car we’re sitting in, obviously I’m coming along for the ride. Guess that makes me a driving instructor, now.” He gestured vaguely at the dashboard and the various controls of the Maserati. “You know what all these are and what they do, right?”

She shot him a brief side glance, before slowly setting her hands on the steering wheel.

“Yes. I read the orientation booklet.”

He leaned over, reached across her, grabbed her seatbelt and clipped it on for her.

“Then you should know that the first step is to wear your seatbelt, lady.”

She continued to watch him with that uninspired poker face, her expression not changing even when she had been startled by his sudden proximity.

“…I could have done that on my own.”

He looked at her from behind his bangs and smirked a fanged, feline smirk. “And where’s the fun in that? I personally like my learning to be very hands-on.”

She finally reacted to his teasing drawl, and pinched the insides of his wrist before he could start putting his hands elsewhere. He swore and jerked back, hissing like a scalded cat.

“Ow!”

She pointed at him primly. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

He shook out his stinging appendage and scowled disgruntledly at her. This was not the first time she had warded him off like that.

“Oi, what do you think you’re doing to your driving instructor? I demand respect!”

“Perhaps this driving instructor should respectfully stop flirting and start instructing.”

“Who says that I’m flirting with you? I’m just that friendly with everyone I meet, don’t ya know?”

She caught herself almost scoffing, which amused him to no end because that was how he knew he had her.

He lounged back in his seat and put on his own seatbelt as well.

“Let’s start. Is your foot already on the brake pedal? Keep it there when you switch on the engine. Once you’re ready, release the handbrake and put your hand on the gearstick-”

His instructions were clear enough, and between the two of them, they soon managed to get the car moving.

“Hey. Don’t stamp on the accelerator like that. Don’t stomp on the brakes abruptly too, come to think of it. Your passengers, namely me, will not appreciate it.”

“Stop glancing at your feet. It’s an automatic transmission so it’s not like you need to clutch in or anything. Keep your eyes on the road. And you’re too tense. Relax.”

She had expected a lot of snarking and snideness from him, but surprisingly enough, that was not the case. He tapped the back of her hand.

“You’re listing off to one side, lady. Use your spatial awareness to correct yourself.”

She was driving very slowly, easing the vehicle forward around the empty training circuit as she got her bearings. The luxury coupe was an extremely responsive machine, which in turn made it considerably difficult for a beginner like her to control. Her nervousness grew too, having to be responsible for such an expensive car.

“Kuga.”

“Hm?”

“How angry will you be if I damage this car?”

She kept her eyes firmly peeled on the road, but she could sense him turning his head to stare at her, all the same.

“Why? Are you intending to crash us straight into a divider or something?”

“No.”

“Then it depends.”

“On?”

“How willing you’re gonna be to use your body to repay me.”

She jammed on the brakes. Thankfully, she wasn’t driving very fast in the first place and he had his seatbelt on. If not, he might have smushed face first onto the windscreen.

“Oi, what the heck?! I told you not to jump on the brakes like that!”

She glowered at him, righteously offended. “I’m not sleeping with you in exchange for driving lessons.”

He scoffed. “Who’s sleeping with who? I never asked you to do that.” He sounded almost insulted, indignant, even.

As if he needed to stoop to bargaining to trade for sexual favors. Who did she think he was? The number of exes he had was enough to line a city block!

She turned her head mechanically and stared at him. Silently demanding an explanation. She was very good at that, he was quickly realizing. Probably due to all that extreme weirdass formal etiquette training she received as a kid.

He rubbed the back of his neck, exasperated.

“My parents are flying in to spend Christmas, so I need you to do that thing you did the last time my mom came.”

Her brow silently lifted. “That thing I did? You mean, continue to pretend to be your doting girlfriend?”

He shot her an ‘are you shitting me’ look. “Really? That was you being doting back then? I sprained my wrist and you also nearly threw out my back. Please be less doting this time, I don’t think I’ll survive your tenderness, darlin’.”

She frowned at him, doing her level best to ignore his sarcastic endearment.

“You think you’re in any position to make demands?”

“I know I am. Do this for me and I’ll personally guarantee that you earn your driving license, dammit.”

Her gaze grew even sharper, from behind the warning glint of her prudish glasses. Her voice was light, cool, crisp. “What did I say about swearing, Kuga Terunori?”

For fuck’s sake, she was such a schoolmarm. Ever since she became his ad hoc housemate, he found himself involuntarily transforming into an upstanding, model citizen, much to his bewildered horror. No more swearing, no more late-night drinking and raucous partying - it was early to bed and early to rise. The apartment was fastidiously spick and span at any given time of the day, somehow he had also learned to sort the laundry by color for the first time in his life, and even the trash was neatly separated into their various categories by the time garbage collection day rolled around; what even was going on.

Coincidentally, that was also probably why his mom liked her so much.

He leaned towards her again. Bringing his face up to hers. Meeting her crimson gaze with his own catlike cognac gold ones.

“Why? Are you going to pull me out of the car and pin me to the floor again? Tsk, you really are such a violent woman, despite that demure appearance indicating otherwise.”

She was also kind of…interesting, he had to reluctantly admit. She seemed plain and passive at first glance, but there was something about that unyielding, steel backbone, that implacable resolve sitting unwaveringly firm on that elegantly aristocratic, doll-like face that was not like any other women he had met. She had also never tried to be deliberately charming or coquettish or appealing ever, and he didn’t think he had seen her attempt to make herself more palatable in order to please anyone. That quietly defiant side of her was probably her only charm point, as far as he was concerned, anyway. Other than that, she was bossy, forceful, irritating, and always had to be right. It was immensely aggravating, that righteous level of rightness she always insisted to be on.

Nene blinked, slowly. Was he trying to intimidate her?

“My actions are a direct consequence of your incredible insufferableness,” she replied with serene dignity.

She lifted one hand from the steering wheel and calmly met his forehead with her palm, pushing him back onto his seat.

“And stop breathing on me, you buffoon. I’ll agree to do as you asked, on the additional condition that you drive me wherever I need to go for the next one month.”

There was a promising ryokan that had just been listed and looking for a new buyer, but it was a bit out of the way in the mountains and she needed transport. He would be just as good as any, with the additional advantage of being incredibly business savvy and experienced to deal with this sort of transaction.

“Buff-” he spluttered in disbelief. Was that any way for anyone to ask for a favor? “Excuse me; do I look like your personal Uber chauffeur?” he demanded. “Have you any idea how busy I am with the number of restaurants I’m currently managing?”

“You’ve worryingly short legs for a chauffeur,” she retorted blandly, and just like that, his eyes flashed like those of a bull that had just caught sight of a matador’s furiously red cape. He also looked like he was seriously considering reaching over to throttle her, it was strangely amusing.

It was also almost cute, how he quickly puffed up.

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING SHORT-”

A/N #02: Anesan refers to ‘older sister,’ because technically Nene is a good five months older than Terunori, though I doubt she appreciates being addressed as such by him...which is probably why he does it to irritate her, lol. (Anesan is also apparently a common term for the yakuza to address their Boss’s wife...which is fitting considering my hc for Terunori’s family!)

Also, I always wondered why the usually levelheaded and pokerfaced Nene takes such glee in poking at Terunori about his height in canon. I like to think that she finds his reactions amusing...possibly even cute~

#Food Wars: Shokugeki no Souma #Shokugeki no Soma #Kuga Terunori #Kinokuni Nene #TeruNene #TeruNene: Passive Aggressive AU #freestyle #my fics

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