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callmissrogers · 8 months

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Coulson's Kid (potentially part one)

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Agent Coulson has an adopted daughter. Adopting her after he lead a raid on a plant that had strong connections to the people responsible for Hydra. At five years old, she was her own kind of super solider with abilities that completely differed from the Captain's. And now, she was an Avenger.

Notes: This takes place during the first Avengers movie, but I'm changing things around to fit the story. I'm also going with the storyline that Colson is, in fact, not dead. But that fact isn't addressed in this story. If I do do a part two, depending on what you guys think of it, it will be later.

Warnings: Angst, death, fighting, small description of being shot and bleeding, notjing graphic. Leading up to an eventual love story. I'm going with slow burn on this. Let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 3,457

((Gif not my own.))

P.s. wrote on my phone and proofread as best I could.

"Agent down. Agent down. Agent Phil is down." Fury said over the coms.

"Dad!" Y/n gasped, throwing herself from one platform to the next and then bolting down the stairs. "Please be wrong, please be wrong." She kept muttering under her breath. Coming to the floor above where her dad had been headed, she threw herself over the railing, falling in the process. But she couldn't care less about herself at the moment, she had to find her dad.

Heart pounding. Sharp ringing in her ears. He had to be alive.

As if in slow motion, she made it to the entrance way to the containment room. Fury was standing there, hand over his mouth, and then her eyes found her dad. Slumbed down against the wall, head dropped... He wasn't moving. Why wasn't he moving?

Then, things sped back up again.

"DAD!" She screamed, running for him. Fury whipped around, "Somebody stop her!" He ordered.

Steve, who had made it to the room just after her, grabbed her by the arm. She pushed him off and kept going. "Rodgers!" Fury yelled.

Steve was going to ask questions later, but for now, he'd do as he was told.

So he grabbed y/n, threw her over his shoulder, and carried her out of the room.

"No! Steve, please!" Y/n begged, hands balled into fists. She punched him across the back.

But it did very little to sway him.

He carried her up the stairs and darted into a side hallway. Slowly setting her down. "Y/n‐" She cut him off by hitting him repeatedly in the chest, "Why! Why did you take me away! Just let me go -" "It's - " She hit him again. "Y/n-" "No! Just tell me why. " He put an end to her attacks by engulfing her into a hug.

She froze. Unable to move. For a moment, she couldn't even bring herself to breath.

"I'm sorry." Steve said after a moment of uninterrupted silence.

The flood gates opened. She took a breath and began to sob, leaning against him for support, her cries muffled and body trembling.

He just stood there, holding her protectively. He didn't say anything else.

A mere few minutes passed before she came to her sense and pulled away from him.

"Steve, I'm -" "You don't have to say anything, Y/n-" He said, his tone still serious, tho he had a look of concern on his face. His mind was split between the attack on the ship, the fact that the Avengers were now split up, the loss of Colson... Y/n hated being vulnerable in front of others, it had always made her feel embarrassed and almost shameful, tho at this precise moment, shame was the furtherest thing from her mind. The pair of them stood there, eyes locked, "We should pro-" Steve began to say but was cut off.

"I need everyone to the tabel, now," Fury said over the comm.

Y/n's expression changed from one of sorrow to anger.

"He's giving me an answer." She spat, turning on her heel and rushing out into the stairwell.

"Y - y/n," Steve called, running after her.

Y/n stormed into the conference room. "Fury!" She yelled. "I want answers, and I want them now." She said, slamming her hand against the table. Fury just looked at her, ignoring her tear stained face . He turned back to the computer screen. Y/n chest heaved, and her jaw set, "Tell me - " She swallowed back the lump in her throat, "Tell me why you wouldn't let me near my father."The Avengers began as an initiative-" Fury began.

But y/n wasn't paying attention. Head hurting, ears ringing, hands clutchingher sides.

It wasn't until Fury tossed down some baseball cards. Her dad's baseball cards that she focused again.

She stared at them. They were a constant part of her childhood. Every night after her dad told her a bedtime story, he'd pull out those cards.

"See this one, this is for when Captain America stormed a Hydra camp. And nearly singlehandedly brought an entire sqaude of men home. That's how he got his name, Captain America."

That was one of her fondest memories. It was also one of her most embarrassing when Steve told her that her dad had asked if he wanted to see them. But that had followed a more serious conversation.

"Your dad is Agent Colson?" "Yep... Well, not biologically. He um... Adopted me when I was five. He raided a base on an island off shore of Scotland and found me."How did you end up there?" I was born there." "Born there?" Y/n sighed, setting her mug down. She didn't say anything for a moment. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pryed."No. No. It's ok. Um. From what I've been told, I was given up right after I was born. Hydra adopted me. More like they bought me. I have no idea who my mom was and what happened to her after that. I really don't remember what they did to me, I was just too young. But what I do know is that they were trying to create a different kind of super soldier. Branching out into other abilities besides just being strong." Steve just looked at her. His face a cloud of mixed emotion. "They did that to a child?"It wasn't just me. . . But I was the only one who made it."I'm assuming someone had to tell you all of this.. Your dad? "When I turned 18, he finally let me read my file.." Now Steve just looked angry. "So that's how you became a part of -" "Shield?" She asked, cutting him off. "I've basically been raised with Shield. My dad wanted to make sure I learned to control my abilities. Basically, this was my after-school program, but dad made sure I was also allowed to be a kid. I wasn't actually allowed to join shield until I was 18." Steve was silent, obviously processing everything she had just told him. "Do you mind if I ask you something?" He finally said. "Go ahead,"you said, a different kind of soilder. Different how?" This was the first time she had been asked that question because everyone she knew already knew. "Um-" She said, clearing her throat. "I don't know how to explain it, really. I can feel things. A person's body temperature, I can sense when they're about to shift their movement, heart rate, breathing, all of it. . . That and martial arts just come easily to me. Way too easily. " "That's why you're never beaten when you spar." Steve said, obviously trying to lighten the mood. "I suppose so," y/n said, grabbing her tea and drinking deeply from it.

Back to reality.

Y/n stared blankly at the cards. All she could see was red. The cards were stained with drops of red...

"These are my dad's," She mumbled, slowly looking up and setting her sights on Fury. "They were in his coat pocket."You're using them to make a point, Fury! My father was a person - not, not some promotional tool."We have a war to wage." "Oh I'm going to reign hell on Loki," She said, her voice low but anger filled. "But know this Fury - I will get answers, and if you EVER use my dad to manipulate anyone again, there will be a special place in hell for you too." She spat, turning and walking out of the room, heading for the launch pad.

The others remained seated and quiet. Until Natasha finally spoke up, "She's right, Fury. Low blow."

They landed in New York, Nat had gone after one of the aliens, Bruce was smashing things, and y/n, well, y/n had a god she was looking for.

She stood back, watching the skies. He would want a good vantage point to watch all of this go down. There's no way someone like him would just stand in the middle of it and risk his own life.

Finally she spotted him on one of the upper levels of a building. Looking down as if he were king.

Y/n climbed up the side of the building, going up one floor above him so you would have leverage. In one swift motion, she swung down, kicking him full force in the chest, knocking him on his back. Pinning him down, she punched him once, twice, three times, her knuckle guards increasing her damage three-fold. "You killed my father," she spat. Taking one of her double-sided blades and holding it to his throat. "If I were half the monster you were, I'd make you suffer," She growled, pressing it slightly into his skin. Loki looked at her, grinned, and then held out his hand for his staff, it slid across the floor and in one move he grasped it and threw her across the room into a glass display case. "If you were half the monster I was, you would have won just now." He laughed before falling off the balcony to be caught by one of his soldiers.

She had the man who killed her father beneath her and he got away because she wasn't swift enough to take him out. Slowly she pushed herself off the floor. Dusting shards of glass from her suit, other than a good scratch to the face she hadn't been hurt too badly.

Running to the balcony, Loki was completely out of reach now and from the looks of it, Steve needed help. Loki would get his, that she was sure of, even if it wasn't done by her.

Back on the ground she quickly found Steve, "they've trapped sevillians in that building. We gotta get em' cleared out of there." He grunted.

The people trapped inside were frantic. This might be new York but even they weren't prepared for this. Y/n and Steve tagteamed it, combining his strength with her martial arts, ensuring they couldn't be hit in their blind spots. It was a funny thing, how some people, though still a very new acquaintance, could so completely click with your movements and fighting style.

Y/n jump down to the first floor to pry open the doors so the crowd could escape.

She hadn't cleared the area for the aliens, and was ambushed. She was doing well on her own, noticing that they weren't quick to pick up on patterns. There had to be at least ten of them, and she had to be quick. The fight was only increasing so the chance of them making it to actual safety was lessening by the second. Finishing off the last one by leaping on its back and slitting its throat, she glaced back at the crowd, nodded in an attempt to be reassuring, and began working the door again.

Someone screamed. A shot fied and y/n looked down at her left arm. She was bleeding. Apparently one of then had been hiding in the shadows and used her distraction as an opportunity to try to take her out. She turned around, reaching with her right had to grab her gun. But before she or the alien could fire, Steve's shield flew through the air and beheaded it.

He dropped down in front of her. The crowd was even more frightened now than they had been beforehand. "It's going to be ok." He tried to assure them.

Turning round, he looked at her wound and the increasing blood stain. "You've been shot" "I don't feel anything" "You're in shock." He said, grabbing the bar and throwing all of his weight into forcing the doors to open. When they did, he turned to the crowd again. "All of you - get out of here NOW!" He ordered. They didn't wait to be told again and flooded from the room.

"Here," Steve said, ripping cloth from a nearby curtain. He came to stand next to her, "May I?" He asked holding the material up. Obviously intending to bandage the wound. Since it was a lazer gun she had been shot with, they didn't have to worry about lodged bullets. She nodded bracing herself, Steve tried to do this quickly and caefully, but y/n still hissed when actually tied it.

"Sorry" "No, I got distracted " " can you still fight?" "I'm right-handed Captian. What about you? Getting sleepy?" Y/n said, attempting to lighten the mood some. "I can do this all day" Steve said, offering a weak smile.

The two of them then made their own way back outside rejoining the fight.

"Guys," Tony said his voice sounding urgent. "What is it?" Steve asked. "We've got a live missle heading for New York." "What?" "You heard me right." Steve paused mid step. "Whose is it?" Y/n asked. "America's" Stark said curtly. "How much time do we have?" Steve asked. "Not enough," Tony said. You all could hear the wind whooshing about him. "I've- I've got a plan." He said his voice breaking up. "It may or may not work. Let's hope it does." That was the last thing he said.

Everyone watched the skies now. In a moment you could see Tony, he was holding something cylindrical and flying towards the open portal.

"Oh Stark don't do this," Y/n whispered.

This was something he very likely wouldn't come back from.

A new squad of aliens came up on them, "Y/n watch your six" Steve called, punching out one of them following up with a shield to the face.

Y/n turned around, grabbing a knife off her leg, kicking one hard in the shoulder, and another in the shein. Turning back around to stab the first in the side of the face and then slicing the second across the stomach. This all took a matter of 15 seconds.

Looking out at the the group that was surrounding them, Steve grunted, "Y/n," y/n ducked, grabbing a gun and shooting one in the head. "We can't keep going like this" "it's,-" She panted, trying to pretend that she wasn't beginning to give out, "it's not over till an opera lady sings" "That's not how that goes" "sure, correct me now"

But deep down; Y/n knew he was right. The army was too big and spread out, they couldn't focus on one area and beat them down.

Tony.

"Stark, an update!" Someone yelled over the coms. That was the last thing y/n could clearly make out over the coms. Nat was yelling something, an order of some sort.

A moment later the portal began to close.

"Steve" Y/n whispered. "I see it," He said worriedly, "Stark, can you hear me? Get out of there now"

Minutes passed, the battle waged on, and the portal got smaller.

"Come on, Tony!" Y/n yelled, shooting another two, one through the other.

Just as the portal had srunk down to a pinprick in the sky, something, rather someone, came falling through. At that same moment, the ever growing army, began to collapse. Like robots someone's just unplugged.

Confused Steve yelled, "Stark - is that you?" . But there was no reposponse. "He's out cold guys," Hawkeye answered.

"He will not survive landing at such velocity" Thor added, beginning to spin his hammer.

But before he could get up to speed, Bruce or Hulk rather, leapt from a building top, snatching Tony out of the air and using the same building to slow their landing.

Upon touch down, he tossed Tony down and ripped off his mask.

"Stark," Nat said worriedly " is he?"

But before anyone answered her, Stark awoke with a sharp intake of air. "Whoa. That was, that was terrifying. What happened?" He gasped, eyes wide.

"We won." Steve answered, looking around that the mess that beheld them.

Ten minutes later they were all surrounding an unconscious Loki.

His eyes fluttered open and he said, "I'd very much like that drink now."

Four hours later:

Loki was in their custody.

Y/n was pacing in front of his his holding cell.

He couldn't say or do anything, for both his mouth and hands were bound. So he just stared at her and she stared at him. There were all sorts of things she wanted to say to him, and even worse things she wanted to do to him, but her mind kept flashing back to that moment when she hadn't taken the kill when she had the chance to. She had failed... Failed herself. Failed her dad.

But she wouldn't fail this time. All it took was opening his cell, she'd use the syringe she "borrowed" from the medbay and he'd be gone. No one would be the wiser. No one would care.

But every time she raised her hand to the button that would open the door. She stopped. Could she kill Thor's brother when the fighting had stopped? Yes. She was about to press the button when the door to the containment room opened. It was Steve.

"Y/n...." He said hesitantly. "What are you doing?" Y/n looked from Steve to Loki and back again. "I -" Steve suddenly understood, his jaw set, he strood into the room, grabbed her by her good arm and pulled her harshly from the room.

They walked in silence, Steve pulling her along until he found a space he didn't feel others would easily hear them. Shutting the door, he turned on her. "Y/n, I'm only going to ask this once more. Where you doing what I think you were doing?" He asked, his tone serious and gruff. Y/n hadn't known Steve Roger's for long but she could tell he was livid.

She dropped her gaze, feeling guilty. "Nearly." She mumbled.

"Y/n.." He sighed, raking a hand through his hair.

"He killed my father, Steve. I... I know it was wrong. Deep down, I knew I couldn't do it. But I won't lie. I wanted to."

"I know. I know he killed your father, Y/n. But remember who you're father was. If you went through with that, are you really any different than Loki? Because the moment we start crossing lines because we feel justified in doing so. We're no different than the guys we're working to stop. Is that what your dad would have wanted?" He asked harshly.

Y/n met his eyes which were boring through her like liquid metal. Biting her lip she slid down against the wall until she was seated on the floor.

"You're right... Dad's soul was pure. It was all black and white. I guess, I guess, since I'm adopted, I didn't inherit that." Y/n said, picking at her sleeve. Steve sighed, and then he came to sit next to her. "Look, a lasp in judgment doesn't make you a bad person."This sort of thing gets around. I nearly killed a prisoner. How does that look?"

"Like you're a daughter grieving the loss of her father." Steve said, turning to look at her. "I understand. My, um, my best friend, Bucky. I lost him on a mission, back in my time. There was nothing I could do to save him... but that didn't stop me from feeling all the guilt, shame, anger, or heartbreak. I actually killed the guy responsible, but it didn't make it any better." He said his voice much lower now. " I know I don't know exactly how you feel, but I can at least empathize with you." She met his gaze, and suddenly he wasn't Captain America, super soldier. He was Steve, the man.

They just sat there a moment, saying nothing, an almost comfortable silence settling in.

"And this won't get around." Steve finally said "why? You have to-" "I don't have to do anything. As far as I'm concerned, nothing happened. This is the end of it." Y/n was shocked. Everything she knew about this man was that he was by the book on absolutely everything and yet here he was bending the rules for her. Why?

"I - I don't know what to say"

"You don't have to say anything. I like your style, y/n. I'd be proud to work with you again." He said standing up and giving her a hand. "Now, let's go send this little god home with his big god brother."

They all stood around, watching as Thor pulled Loki along and then the two were warped back home.

The Avengers all looked at each other, noting. It was time for a break.

Steve walked over to his bike, but before he got on, he called, "Hey y/n," y/n, who had just gotten into her own car, rolled down her window. "Yes?"If you ever need someone to, I don't know, talk to. I'll be around." Steve said, offering a smile. "I'll remember that Captain."

(( I say potentially part one because if this is well received I have ideas to use the same y/n in the Winter Soilder, Civil War etc. Let me know what you think!!))

#captian America x reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel shortstory #Steve rogers short story #captain america short story #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #marvel x reader

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stilemawillow · 2 years

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Loverboy [Jotaro Kujo | Reader]

So, think I met Jotaro about… a month ago? Maybe a bit more. I’m not the bad guy by any means – there’s just followers of the cult all around. White-haired buzzcut guy spewing bullshit about revenge. I’m young and breezy, I want no trouble. I’m no part of no band – no delusions there. I just got friends, need to return favours and hooked on love. See, so that’s the key most times. But also, like, you could call it a release and a sealant at the same time.

I was five when my momma told me stories about love. She ain’t ever love my father, though. There were cigarette butts and liquor bottles all around the house. Nice little picture right there. No modern stuff. Sundresses and hats – she beat my ass when I asked what the weird balloons in my dad’s pockets were for. So, you see, love isn’t all peachy all the time. Hard to fight for it. My momma fought for it constantly. Oh, and when she lost the battle, she was beaten. But like, repeatedly. Wore sunglasses a lot. Didn’t curse, though. Bless her little soul. My father loved too much was all.

I loved a lot like him – high school came easy and popularity was a competition I didn’t bother to win. Was mine to begin with.

I have my dad’s good looks and my momma’s patience. The old man died some two years ago – his lady took off her ring way before but she’s doing good in the nursing home. So I’m what? Young, handsome, loving and just a bit weird. It makes me cool, though. How I got in with the friends I’m currently doing favours for – you could see I had a falling out with a band, then a girl slapped me, and another one, and some pink shoes were in a dumpster down the street, my car bumper wasn’t doing well, I switched locations, ain’t nobody chasing me and, well, it’s a long story.

I’ve personally got nothing against nobody. Unless they disrespect love. And I can tell you Jotaro Kujo’s big on disrespect.

Disrespect this and that and him and her and – who are you to be calling women bitches when they just want a piece? God, you gotta thank them and give them love. So our main guy had a problem, dragged his geezer along for it – if I’m not mistaken, a Frenchman, a cherry-lover and a weird shaman were involved, too. And the fucking dog – tell you the truth, dogs are no best friend, they the devil waiting for a weak spot to lunge at.

So, a merry band goes to kill a vampire with a big following. Of course some are going to get angry. I’m not one of them, I’ve only listened to stories. Here and there, and this one’s a dirtbag, that died, those were nasty, we laughed here and ran there, lots of failure and now we’re here.

I’m not a man who fails – have that as a disclaimer. So, it might be forty days since I met Jotaro now. You know, for a big as fuck disrespecter, he’s trying to be smart and, I gotta give it to him, he manages. Dreams – marine or something biology. Fine with me. Not interesting since it’s got no love inside of it but hey, perfection runs short these days. And I know from experience it’s hard being a good guy.

So, if you’ll be asking how I met Jotaro – we bumped once. Didn’t say sorry or anything. That when I knew the favour will be a breeze when it came to conscience. No guilt can torment me over a guy who don’t even say sorry when he bumps into you. Ah, but that’s not the important point. So, this job takes a bit of devotion and some inspection. I have to be careful with schedules, placements and the time of day. I also need collateral damage. I’m good at picking that shit out. Trust me on this. So I’m doing my thing, following, looking, inspecting, analysing – shouldn’t underestimate me when it comes to analysing.

I can sniff impossible love across a street. Cause some people just stink, you know? Jotaro especially. So it don’t really matter who collateral damage is. All it matters is to find somebody as stinky. And there’s this girl, man, they’ve probably talked twice or something of the sort. Share all their university classes. My momma would laugh if she knew I ever stepped foot inside a university. Back to the point. The girl stinks and Jotaro stinks. A match made in heaven. Pichit will have a fucking blast when I tell him about it later.

So, I got my collateral damage – a smarty pants with terrible hair. She’s got nice ears, though. Not big enough of a redemption but still. Nice feet, too. All I need is the placement and their university’s got this gorgeous fountain. Green stuff around, birds chirping, nice things. If they’re lucky, I’ll pin the time to two in the afternoon so they can have lots of sunlight. But that depends on circumstances, not on me.

Target – check. Collateral damage – check. Placement – check.

I need a time and that’s all up to fate but inspection lets me believe it should be coming along soon. You see, their schedules just barely brush at the fountain each Thursday. For – what? – fifty days now, I been watching the moment come closer and closer. They gotta come in contact or nothing’s gonna work out. But I said, I’m patient like my momma. And then we’ve got about a second to go and the job is done. It’s complicated shit when you’re telling it to somebody dumb. But I need lots of ingredients and, how do I dumb this down? I make prisons out of love. Here you go. Simplest description there is.

I’m hanging around on the rooftop, swinging legs and all, waiting for lunch break. I’ll probably have to hang around for another week before I can get to work but, hey, sandwiches here are pretty good. I have a perfect view of the fountain, too. I push my sunglasses and I see that big disrespecter come out of the building. It’s just the thing. He sits on the side of the fountain.

Some chick comes along begging for love and he’s being rude. And then my pretty collateral damage shows up – opposite direction, heading for him. Not for him, though. I know she sits on the other side of the fountain. But if there’s contact, there’s a miracle. I’m hanging off the edge of my seat. Literally. If I’m not careful, I’ll end up repaying favours from the clouds.

“You, bitch, come over here.” Or so I can picture him saying it. His hand waves. The chick next to him is smiling – wait, shit, there’s a spot on my sunglasses. No, no, she’s frowning. My collateral damage stops in front of them. I lean down further and stick out my tongue in concentration. You know, the worst part is not hearing shit when you gotta keep a distance. Something splatters on my shoulder. Man, this is a brand new suit. Fuck that bird. Oh, this stinks. And while I’m wiping at my suit with my glove – remind me to throw it away immediately after – there’s a giant as fuck splash down by the fountain.

Correction, in the fountain. I nearly gape when I look. Shit, fuck, this is perfect. Golden opportunity if I’ve ever seen one. My collateral damage’s in the fountain, soaked from head to toe. Jotaro probably pushed her. Perfect, perfect, perfect. Oh, this is spicy. She slaps his hand away when he reaches out for some reason. Dude, why you gotta make it worse on the girl you pushed? But this is my moment of contact. And here goes the job.

You gotta meet my buddy – Loverboy. Real cute guy. So I snap my fingers and he snaps his and it’s done. Well, not that quickly, but when we’re out of the loop, it will be. And I’ll still have to wash the freaking suit the bird shat on. Pichit will be paying for it. Now, honestly, all I gotta do is sit and watch the show. Do hope they make it interesting for me.

“What’s going on?” Big wide eyes and clothes sticking to a shivering body.

“Hold still.” A commanding voice. She’s standing in the fountain and she can feel the water creating nasty friction between her socks and her toes. He’s looking around. He’s got the same mean look he does every day. It’s pissing her off because, all of a sudden, everybody’s gone and he’s telling her to hold still like it’ll make people reappear.

“Don’t tell me to sit still, Kujo. This is weird. I need to try to find somebody.” She crosses her arms and his eyes strike her, glaring sternly even when he’s the one sitting down.

“I told you not to move.” He tries to reach for her but she huffs and turns around, crossing the fountain and making water pour on the ground when she steps out and shakes her head before heading for the building.

He glares at her back and cautiously rises from his seat. This is a Stand at work. But whose? He needs to figure out the ability and the range. There’s nobody around when he was surrounded by people a second ago. And why is (Y/N) the only one with him? It has something to do with the ability, he’s sure of it. Either that or she’s the Stand user. A scream echoes and he whips his head in its direction. He sees brain particles splattered on the door frame as it crushes her.

Just let me make a small disclaimer again. I can’t laugh in situations like this because I’ll be found quickly. But, man, seeing Jotaro the disrespecter’s shock when the door takes out my collateral damage – precious. Beyond precious.

And trust me, I don’t like squashing pretty ladies. But this one’s in for a lot of squashing and impaling and whatever else I can think of. Because, you know, I gotta make things plausible. Not just dangerous. And with how little chemistry there’s here, one or the other is sure to walk away from the safe starting point I picked out. I just have to wait for it and bam. But also, I didn’t actually think the door would work. If it hadn’t, I would’ve probably resorted to a bit of legwork. And I always have to kickstart shit because it’s not fun if I just leave them be. We all need a shock factor. Anyway.

First try. First fail. I think I’m aiming for twenty or so. Sounds plausible. Jotaro’s strong and he’s seen some shit so he’ll beat the average ten. But what’s twenty battles when you’re losing the war? Yeah, exactly – nothing. Oh, this will be quick, easy and fun. I love when things are quick, easy and fun.

The same vacant yard. The same building. The doors are intact. Jotaro’s back to sitting down. His eyes widen and he glances at the fountain. She’s there and she makes no attempt to stand up. Wet from head to toe, staring ahead. She can’t see anything.

“Stand still now,” he commands immediately, reaching out a protective hand to prevent any movement in case she tries to be reckless again. This is without a doubt a Stand’s ability. But it doesn’t give him any hints as to the range and the essence of it. It gives him nothing besides the fact they shouldn’t go into the building. It would be safest not to move at all.

“I died.” Her voice quivers and her shoulders are shaken by violent tremors when he looks down at her. “It was real,” she whispers blankly, eyes wide with horror. His lips purse. He can’t make sense of this just yet but he knows now at least she’s not the Stand user. In that case, he has to protect her. He tells her she’s fine and she registers his presence. “You’re not the one who felt it! Kujo, I fucking died! It--- my fucking arm and my head---“ But she’s frantic and he has to lean over to grasp her shoulder.

“Quiet. I’ll get us out.” He lets it slip and she immediately asks if he knows what’s going on. “No. Not yet.” His eyes are scanning the space. The building seems empty. There’s no place around the yard that can hide a person and a Stand. It could be a long-range. She’s asking him what he knows. He keeps quiet. Approaching the building is dangerous. The opposite direction could be safe. He’ll have to test it. What’s the essence of this ability? Encapsulation, isolation – but a normal human is here, too. He hasn’t encountered such ability before. She’s saying he has to tell her because she died back there. He sighs. “This is the work of a Stand user. Our circumstances are the ability of the Stand.”

“And a Stand is?” She’s staring at him doubtfully while he explains a Stand is the manifestation of the owner’s soul and nobody knows exactly where they originate from. “So… a manifestation of somebody’s soul wiped everybody out and killed me?” She seems more and more dumbstruck by the second. She tries to scoot closer to his edge of the fountain.

“I don’t think everybody’s wiped out.” It would be impossible. A Stand cannot have such instantaneously giant destructive power and wield manipulation of space at the same time. If it did and he was the target, he would’ve died, too. She says that they’ve been wiped out and he shakes his head. “We could’ve been transported.” It’s the most plausible conclusion taking into account everything else.

“What, like an isolated case?” She’s staring up at him while he tries to surmise their surroundings again. Everything is faithful to reality but there are no other life forms besides them two. No birds when there were birds. No insects as far as he can see. It’s a mental trick.

“It’s the only thing I can think of which would allow for a restart the moment you died.” Because bending reality and time like that was impossible even for The World. It could freeze time for seconds but it couldn’t warp the physical world at will. Even Jotaro can’t. And when she asks if this is a mental or physical space because dying felt pretty real to her, he snorts. “It’s a mental space, no doubt. Now I just need to find the Stand user.”

“But if it’s a mental space, he won’t be here,” she argues instantly. His eyes narrow at her face – there’s water trickling down it. He knows she’s smart. He knows she’s quick to soak up information – quicker than him. He likes that about her. She might even prove to not be a nuisance while he’s trying to figure this out.

“So I have to gauge the ability more. If he’s here, I’ll find him. If he’s not, I’ll have to find a way out. He’s affecting the space around us so it’s a relatively long-range Stand. Which means it might be useless in close combat. When we find him, we’re out.” Jotaro stands up and spins in order to inspect the yard from all directions. They shouldn’t near the doors but can they go and check out the opposite side? And where would a Stand hide in here?

“You’re speaking from experience,” she observes solemnly. He spares her one look and doesn’t say anything. This requires more logic than it does strength. “What? So all of this is actually true and I’m supposed to believe it?” She’s just a bit outraged. He makes a step towards the fence on the left.

“Whichever you choose, don’t move.” The order is flat and harsh, and she sits in the fountain, crossed arms and a glare aimed at his back.

“You say, while you’re moving. What are you doing?” He nears the fence and tries to estimate whether movement in any direction signifies danger.

He’s about to look up when he can hear something moving down by his feet. The stone moves quickly but Star Platinum emerges just in time and grabs it as it's about to smash into Jotaro’s face. (Y/N)’s eyes widen at the happening. She can’t see anything but the rock hanging in the air next to Jotaro’s head. It happens way too quickly. Star Platinum is busy when the fence bends and pierces his chest. The pain is so indescribably familiar and he hates it. The sensation of dying isn’t so palpable.

“Seriously? You told me to sit still while you went ahead and died?” Her voice is loud and reproachful and he’s back at the fountain, sitting on the cold stone side while she’s inside, wet from head to toe and scowling at him.

“It wasn’t my intention.” But this proves it doesn’t matter who dies for the setting to restart. It also means the death isn’t truly real – if it was, the job would be done since he’s the target. There’s more to this ability. And surely, there’s a door of opportunity for them to leave its influence.

“Let’s just sit still and talk this time, okay?” She sits with her legs crisscrossed in the fountain and scoots closer. “Who is doing this to us? Not in the sense of a Stand user because I’ll just have to accept that part. I mean, who wants to kill us?” He sighs and says he’s the target since this is a Stand user. “You have how many enemies?” She quirks a brow and he looks at the way she wipes the water off her face. The sunlight makes each drop glimmer.

“I thought none,” he says with an averted gaze. She huffs and gets to clearing the wet hair from her forehead. He glances once and regrets it. Her neck is bare and while she’s flipping the hair behind her shoulders, he sees the way her shirt sticks to her chest.

“So we can’t figure out the person’s identity based on who you’ve spited,” she concludes slowly. “If you’re the target, why am I here?” He instantly dismisses that as unimportant. She gives a firm look. “I think it’s not. Now, I feel like you’re speaking Italian when you’re talking about Stands but they’ve got abilities. This particular one needs me here to be activated. So, is it a random pick or an ingredient?” He hasn’t thought about it but it’s more important to find the Stand user and beat his teeth out.

“I can’t say.” It’s a random pick at best in his opinion. He can’t be concerned with why it’s exactly her. But maybe he won’t be able to beat the Stand user seeing as this is a case of mental isolation. Could be a hallucination, an inner world, a visual trick or a way to manipulate and combine consciousness.

“We have to inspect that. Maybe it’s the way to getting out,” she insists on pursuing what for him is a dead end and he snorts at her adamancy.

“First, there’s no ‘we’ here. Second, all I need to do is find the Stand. Somebody is controlling our surroundings and if they’re confined in a mental space, the Stand has to be here to observe and monitor it.” In the least, the Stand would be present. The user can’t chart out a predictable script for their behavioural changes – he has to monitor and adjust his tactics according to their actions.

“And how do you plan on finding the Stand when we can’t move from the fountain?” She argues with a challenging look, making him glare. “I think my approach is better for our circumstances.” So she crawls out of the fountain carefully and sits next to him, glancing down at his backpack. “Can I use your notebook?” He sighs and waves a hand to convey that she can do whatever she wants. He turns to observe the fence that impaled him. Like the door, it wasn’t plausible for it to move in the way it did. Next to him, the girl chuckles. “This is cute, Kujo. It looks a bit like me.”

“It’s not you.” His head whips so he can observe what she’s talking about. Her fingers are leaving wet prints on his notebook and the page in the back is home to a sketch. He was bored and she was just two rows away. She was also the best subject. Her hair was nice that day. And she always seems to be immersed in classes she enjoys – her expression is very specific then. And pretty.

“It has my signature bun. And those right here are my favourite earrings,” she points out with a smug smile. His jaw clenches and he turns away from the drawing. “You had to look a lot to get the details. But my elbow’s a bit off. You weren’t listening in Anatomy class.” She’s mocking him and her elbow is nudging his arm. He purposefully moves further away and glares at the building to his left.

“Just shut up, (L/N).” But he can feel heat creeping up his neck and crawling into his face. His teeth are gritted. So what if he drew her that one time? It was a mistake anyway. Like when he stares at her. Or asks for her notes. She asks for his, too. They’ve had lunch together a few times. And just before the fucking Stand attacked, he might’ve been on his way to help her out of the fountain after the other girl pushed her and suggested that she wear his jacket.

“Are you embarrassed, Kujo?” She drawls with a smirk and water is dripping from the ends of her hair onto the notebook. She flips to another page so as to not ruin the sketch. “I’d show you how I made a cursive of your name when I was bored in Zoology but it’s drenched.” The offer makes him huff. His eyes are still on the university building on his left. She reaches into his backpack for a pen. “What if this is the link? I mean, us.” He’s about to call it ridiculous when he hears her breath hitch. She’s toppling over and he just barely catches her.

The fucking pen is jabbed into her throat.

She’s choking on the blood and there’s a gurgling sound just barely leaving her lips. His heart freezes at the sight. Her eyes are staring at him pleadingly. He swears he’s never felt this helpless. But also, this death is not real. It’s not real. The pain is hot and terrible but it’s not real. Three blinks later, she tries to say something. Doesn’t manage. And then she’s back in the fountain and the water isn’t turning pink because her blood’s dripping into it.

He lets out a ragged breath and reaches for her. Her eyes are wide, brows pinched together and she grabs his hand with no hesitation, clinging to it like her life depends on it. The shock will become too much for her at some point. He has to get them out before that. He pulls her closer, and slowly coaxes her out of the fountain and next to him. Water’s dripping from her, seeping into his clothes as he lets her cling to his arm for support and her breaths are quick and panicky.

He won’t be parting his eyes from her this time. Not for a fucking second. He’s responsible for this.

“Did you get scared, Kujo? You don’t let people touch you just like that.” She’s trying to mock him but she’s trembling and he tells her to shut up before grabbing his backpack and tossing it across the yard. Her fingers are weakly clutching his jacket. Maybe it’s about time he gave it to her because this might be a mental prison of some sort, but the sensations accompanying every action are very real. “I got scared. I couldn’t breathe. I don’t want us to be here.” Her lips are pursed and slowly pries her hands from his arm so he can take off his jacket.

“I’ll get us out.” He drapes it over her shoulders and she looks up at him, asking if he’ll do it her way. His lips purse. He still sees no sense in that. “Crack the ability by discovering why you’re here?” She nods and swears there’s a connection before asking if Stand abilities have ultimatums. He shakes his head. “They’re usually fit for combat. I haven’t seen such a Stand before,” he concedes with a lowered head. She scoots closer.

“And if there’s a way to get out without fighting it? It could be why I’m here.” He quirks a brow at the inquiry. Getting out without a fight seems too optimistic. And this isn’t supposed to be a puzzle.

“For conditions to be met?” She nods and her hair is wet. She tugs the jacket’s collar so it envelops her back better. It’s too big for her. She’s still shivering when, a minute of silence later, she asks if he has a Stand. “His name’s Star Platinum.” There’s a chance they won’t remember this after they get out.

“And you’ve fought Stands before?” She looks up at him. Her eyes are big and they twinkle in the sunlight. His lips purse as he remembers Egypt.

“I’ve killed their users, too. When a Stand dies, so does the user.” She doesn’t nod but he sees the fleeting shadow of horror on her face. He doesn’t want to scare her but she’s the one asking the questions. Of course, he can choose not to answer them. He doesn’t know why her presence predisposes him to honesty. He’s talkative around her. It’s weird.

“But if this Stand user’s goal is to kill you, he should’ve managed when… you know.” Her brows furrow and she puts a hand to her chin. The jacket slips off her shoulder. He reaches over and adjusts it. “And if the point of this is to restart when either of us dies, its goal lies in another course of action altogether. And maybe that’s why I’m here as an ingredient.” Her theory is as adamant as she is. But if her speculation is true, that means he either has to find the Stand or figure out the conditions he has to meet to get them out.

“What’s the course of action we need to take then?” He knows she’s smart. He respects her because she’s smart. She knows when to talk and when to think. Knows when to act and when to observe. Her intelligence has fascinated him since long before. But she only shakes her head now and says she hasn’t gotten that far. Silence settles again. He thinks about the conditions and the position of the Stand. He thinks about how he can move and act without leaving her alone or putting her in danger.

“Why have you fought Stands before?” She’s curious and he says it’s a long story. Quietly, he admits his mother was in danger. “How long ago was that?” She’s looking up at him and he snorts. He doesn’t like to think about it. When he thinks about it, he remembers Kakyoin. They could’ve studied here together.

“Three years.” And he got over it and kept going but he has so many nightmares it’s unbearable sometimes. He sees the pity slowly crawl over (Y/N)’s features. It makes her nose scrunch a bit at the bridge. Two wrinkles. They’re three when she’s disgusted. And two between the brows when she’s concentrating in class. “Why did you ask for my notes in our first year?” He doesn’t know why he asks it. She snorts and smiles.

“You were so antisocial I wanted to be your friend. You also seemed grumpy all the time. I didn’t actually need them but they were nice. You’re really diligent, Kujo.” The compliment makes him click his tongue before he says that’s not enough to cover up the fact she just called him antisocial. And the pity if there again for a second. “I get it now. So why did you give me your notes?” She asks in return and he rolls his eyes.

“Because I’m not a jerk.” She keeps staring like there’s another reason. He remembers it like it was yesterday – she stopped him after class and roped him into a roundabout introduction before begging for his notes. And he caught her lying because he learned later that the corner of her mouth twitches when she lies. She lied that she didn’t know his name. “Your smile was nice.” He can’t believe the nonsense he’s spilling but she only chuckles.

“Not anymore?” He doesn’t say anything when she teases him but he can deny it. Her smile is still very pretty. “You know, Kujo, that time you asked my favourite colour.” They were having lunch. She asked his. And then she lied that she didn’t know her own but he didn’t press. Now her smile didn’t twitch. “It’s actually your eyes. If it weren’t for the muscles and the dark and mysterious aura, you’d have fangirls because of them.” He scowled at the mention of fangirls and she snickered. “What? You don’t enjoy your fangirls?”

“No.” He hates them, in fact. Because he’s here to study, not to be surrounded by hordes of obnoxious girls. She is the only girl whose presence he can tolerate. It might have something to do with the smile.

“And if I was a fangirl? You’d be insulting me.” But he immediately says she’s not, to which she nudges him with her elbow. “True. My approach is way calmer. And better. Staying quietly in the periphery actually brings me a lot closer.” In order to prove it, she scoots closer. Her shoulder presses against his arm and he decides to leave it be. Then she jumps up. “Wait for a second, that’s it!”

“Stay down.” He grabs her wrist and tries to pull her down but she fights and turns to face him. She’s standing in front of him and their heights are levelled like this. He can see her eyes flicker excitedly as she tugs – not to free her wrist from his hold but to drag him along.

“No, it’s fine. We need to go. Inside, right now.” He says her name when she attempts to rush off towards the building and his fingers clutch her wrist harder. He can’t let her be harmed again. “Hear me out, Kujo. You said the Stand at least has to be here to monitor us, right?” She talks the same way when she’s cracked the code to a nasty question they’ve been asked in class. “And we don’t get harmed unless we step away from the fountain or come in contact with anything that can be used as a weapon. This means the Stand is watching us from the periphery – from a place that lets it analyse which objects it can use on us. I doubt it can see through walls.”

“So the building is a safe place,” he finishes her thought and she grins.

“Exactly. And it kept me from going inside the first time because the door was all it could see.” It sounds logical. It sounds too logical and it also sounds like a weakness they can use to their advantage. He can’t leave her alone so he’ll take her along. He stands and her wrist wriggles in his hold. He lets go and follows her towards the entrance. What’s the only place that allows a perfect view of the fountain?

“It’s on the roof.” His eyes dart upwards. They’re closing in on the door when he sees the railing on the steps leading to the entrance rip itself from the concrete and bend in her direction. He acts quickly but not wisely. He pushes her out of the way but he’s the one who suffers for it. A scream gets stuck at the back of her throat. The door comes undone and pierces him.

So, I gotta tell you that love is all about sacrifice. That happening down there is no sacrifice to me. I mean, love is about sacrificing others, not yourself. Love is about power, too. My old man liked to sacrifice others and my momma was powerful – they had love right there, somewhere between the bottles and the weird balloons. Whatever happens, Jotaro the disrespecter can’t love. Not really. Maybe his own mom, sure, but like – a piece of work like the collateral damage? Yeah, no way. I’m confident about that. Like I’m confident about a lot of other stuff.

Like when Pichit was about to break his leg on the rollercoaster or when Don lost his shoes and I told him the racoon got them. They don’t believe shit, those friends of mine. But it’s fine because we have our bromance and sometimes, we trust each other. Like they trust me with this favour and I trust they’ll wash my suit after it’s done. Loverboy, I gotta tell you, has real good eyes. Like an eagle. And sure, he needs a spot to watch from but I always pick a good spot for him. He’s my best friend because, you know, he’s me in a way. We both got good style. We love a lot and we hate people who can’t love. Strongest bond ever.

I think I got him when I was sixteen or something of the sort. Could’ve been seventeen. But he was no scary thing to me. Actually, he was my buddy right off the bat. Took me a while to figure out what he does but, hey, every friendship needs time to blossom. Kind of like when you’re getting to know a girl and she can make a cartwheel but she also wears flip-flops often. You gotta measure the sacrifice. Do I love the cartwheel or hate the flip-flops? But Loverboy and I got no such problems. We’re a good team and we’re strong in our own way. My momma used to say a friend’s there for you through thick and thin. No kidding. And that---

Ah, shit. Why do I have to waste so much time preventing stuff? I don’t fail so we got that. But seriously – why’s she protecting Jotaro now? Welp, here goes the sharp fence. I didn’t pick the fountain as a starting point for nothing. I can do this all day and they can’t stop it. Can’t figure it out anyway. What, like they’re geniuses? And I’m told Jotaro likes to work alone so there ain’t no chance in hell he’s going to warm up to teamwork, much less feelings besides frustration and helplessness when he’s in danger. He don’t give half a fuck for my collateral damage, dragging her along or not. If he leaves her alone, I shoot my shot. I don’t miss so that’s that.

Oh, how cute, he’s giving her his jacket. If it was me, I would’ve straight-up told her to take off her clothes. But the disrespecter’s not experienced or interested enough in true love tactics. Which proves to me I’ll be out of here and on my way in about… a second. It’s always a second anyway. Less sometimes. I’m good at mind games and not so much at calculation. But this don’t take no calculation. It takes patience. I got more of that than them. More love, too. Oh, here goes again. Let’s do the window this time. Haha. Quick, easy and fun. I’m having so much fun. What’s that? Oh. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

They’re inside. Shit. I won’t be telling Pichit this part. If he asks, they never got away from the fountain. If you try to tell, well, who’s he gonna believe? You or me? Yeah, I thought so, too. Now I need to do some legwork. If you’ll excuse me.

“I think we’ll be fine here for a while.” He watches her slump against the whiteboard in the classroom on the second floor with a sigh. Water is dripping from her clothes and she grabs a marker from the professor’s desk. “Let’s get down to thinking. This is either a time capsule, an isolated loop or whatever. And we’re here. What do we have in common?” She’s writing on the whiteboard and he’s leaning against the first row where she usually sits.

“Our major,” he joins in the speculations reluctantly, making her shake her head. She writes down their names next to each other and hums.

“I’m thinking more character-wise. It’s a bit like a grumpy-sunshine trope.” He clearly doesn’t understand it and she clearly doesn’t want to explain. She draws a small raincloud next to his name and a small sun next to her own. He scoffs. “So, we’re opposites more often than not. We interact often. But why today?” He instantly says they can’t be sure whether the Stand user chose today purposefully or just activated his Stand the moment he got here. “The fountain’s a good spot he shouldn’t have known about, though. Visitors aren’t allowed on campus so he’s either sneaked in or is part of the student body.” For some reason, Jotaro doubts the latter. He would notice a Stand user in the student body.

“You’re saying he’s inspected the place?” He asks with a frown and she points out the fountain is a perfect starting point that can be guarded at all times from the roof. He admits it is. This has taken some research at least. The Stand user would have to familiarise himself with the place. Which means Jotaro has gotten too rusty from living normally to notice his presence.

“Again.” She taps the marker against their names and draws his attention back to the board. “We’re opposites. What do we make of that?” He makes nothing of it because the Stand user’s goal is to get rid of him. By all means, it’s the only thing he can aim to achieve.

“Nothing. It’s a useless train of thought.” Jotaro snorts in a gruff voice and she tucks her wet hair behind her ear and frowns in disagreement.

“And I think it’s useful.” The moment she argues is the moment a stiff realisation crosses her features. It’s a fleeting instant and then the words drop from her mouth. “Opposites attract.” Jotaro knows that’s the law of magnets. So what of it in this case? She grows frantic the more she explains: “If this is about opposite-sex isolation, it could’ve been any fangirl of yours. You even had one close by. The difference is… you don’t like them.” She’s written down their sex and squints at the board before looking at him. “Have you heard about the experiments where they put a man and a woman in a dangerous simulation and observe the spike of their behavioural changes?”

“No, and I don’t see what that’s got to do with anything.” He truly doesn’t. She can’t just weave a Stand ability out of thin air and unsupported speculations. Abilities in Stands are fit for battle, too – not social experiments. They usually differ according to their owner’s character, temperament and ideology but the main rule stands – they’re meant for combat.

“Could be nothing or everything. This Stand’s ability reminds me a lot of that. A man and a woman are in an isolated space with their adrenaline constantly being stimulated. In situations like these, the couple tends to bond way quicker.” She’s blabbering and he crosses his arms, watching her sceptically.

“You’re not saying this Stand is based on a social experiment meant to simulate love.” It’s audible how much he truly doesn’t believe in her theory.

“Stimulate, not just simulate,” she corrects with a huff. “Pairs who underwent the experiment had a spike in compatibility and are often recorded as dating in the aftermath even when they went into it as strangers.” He can feel she’s lost the point of this. They’re talking about experiments that have nothing to do with their predicament and the Stand is probably looking for them. The building has five floors. How long would it take for it to catch up to their location? Jotaro suspects another five minutes at best. Two if she keeps being this loud.

“So the point is to fall in love and we’ll get out of here.” He glares when she smiles in approval. “Can you hear how ridiculous that sounds? And even if it’s true, how would the Stand user know how we interact? And wouldn’t he rather put me in with somebody I hated and had no chance at all of becoming fond of?” He might’ve accidentally indicated he prefers her to any other girl he could’ve ended up with but she goes along with it, like she hasn’t considered anything else.

“Think about it, though. That might’ve been his exact thought. He won’t put you with any of your fangirls because they like you already and they show it a lot. Maybe he doesn’t know you so he’s just watched you and based on observation – I’m the only girl who appears to be disinterested.” She indirectly hints at something, too. He’s not dumb enough to miss it.

“Appears?” He echoes and the pointed intonation makes her lips purse as she considers what to say. She puts the market back on the professor’s desk and looks into his eyes. The green mingles with a bright baby blue and creates the perfect turquoise shade. She gulps.

“Sure. If he’s had a limited observational period – two weeks or something to pick me out, he would’ve seen that we barely talk and I don’t swoon when I see you.” And Jotaro instantly defends that it’s exam season and they’re busy, which just makes her nod along. “Exactly. He might not know that. It might just be a miscalculation on his end. This is good.” She seems almost excited to announce it. He huffs and pushes himself off the desk. He thinks he can hear something.

“You’re trying to convince me the point of this loop is to fall in love. It’s ridiculous,” he states once he’s positioned right across the door. He’s standing between it and her while she asks what else he can think of. The answer’s immediate: “That we’ve given the Stand enough time to sniff us out.” And when he puts a protective hand to tell her to stand back, her eyes widen. Maybe she can hear the steps, too.

“I love you.” But his eyes are pinned to the door and she’s tugging on his jacket. “Say it back.” Her fingers tremble and her voice wavers. He won’t be saying it because even if that’s the point, nothing will happen if it’s just words prompted by survival instincts. Then both of them can hear the windows behind her vibrate.

He turns around and cradles her head to his chest just as the glass explodes. She screams. Such a fucking cowardly Stand – can’t even use its own strength to overpower him. Glass shards are piercing his face. Blood drips on her hair. He has to lure him out and fight him. Star Platinum is on edge, waiting for guidance.

“Just say it!”

But he doesn’t have the time to part his lips when the door slams open. His vision is impaired – one of his eyes is positively blind and the other is full of blood. He feels her wrestle out of his hold and she can’t see Star Platinum but she stands in the way. It’s then he realises it might not be wise to let his Stand be harmed. But he doesn’t want her to be harmed either. He blindly reaches for her in an attempt to tug her back. Her arm’s in his hold and it’s too late. Through a red veil, he can see the blurry shape of a tall pink figure with flaming hair. And when her body falls back in his arms, the hole in her chest is visible. His heart flinches inside his chest. Star Platinum’s unharmed.

And then they're back at the fountain. In an instant, he turns around and his feet splash inside the water, glued to the stone under as his arms extend to he can hold her shoulders. Same exact time, she’s crawling closer to the edge with her fingers hastily reaching for his face. Horror is coursing through their veins and they think one and the same thing when their eyes meet: You’re fine. The relief is grand and visible, almost tangible in the air. No words are spoken as he draws her closer and she complies until she’s on her knees and her arms just barely envelop his back, fingers desperately clutching his jacket. His digits tangle in her hair. His free hand is splayed over her back, between the shoulder blades where the hole was.

“You were scared,” she mocks in a weak voice, face buried in his chest as he exhales, nose burrowed in her wet hair.

“Shut up.” The command makes her chuckle. He was scared shitless. He’s angry, too. Then she parts from him and her hands are damp as they cup his jaw. She slowly rises to her feet and he looks up. Her thumbs rub against his skin and when their eyes meet, there’s the rage of a thousand suns in her hues. He likes the sight of it. He hasn’t seen this side of her before.

“Let’s smash this guy’s face in.” She sounds deadly serious and he agrees. His fingers slowly wrap around her wrists and he stands up, head slowly turning towards the roof. Now they know where the Stand is. He’ll take her along and Star Platinum will be her bodyguard in case the fucking coward tries to pull another trick. If this is a mental space, Jotaro might be allowed the pleasure of beating up the Stand on his own.

When they step out of the fountain and kick their backpacks in the opposite direction, the fence acts up. It bends and its foundations tear the ground apart in their attempt to shoot in their direction. The attack is spoiled when Star Platinum prevents contact. And (Y/N) gapes at the fence suspended in the air, then he nudges Jotaro’s side and hums.

“I’m assuming I can’t see your Stand but is he, like, strong enough to rip out one of the sharp edges from the fence for me?” And before Jotaro can tell her that’s unneeded, Star Platinum does exactly as he’s told. She blinks at the fence that seems to be breaking on its own. Jotaro glares at his Stand. “I just think I need a way to defend myself. I took one year of fencing in high school.” And the rest of the fence drops to the ground but one metal rod with a sharp tip hangs in the air in front of her. She takes it from Star Platinum with her smile blindly aimed up. “Thank you very much, Star. He can hear me, right?” She glances at Jotaro, who only scowls.

“Right. And he’s being way too complaisant.” She chuckles at the sour note in his voice.

“You are, technically. A manifestation of your soul and will, if I remember correctly.” Her smile is bright and teasing, and he snorts.

When they head towards the door, a few stones try to create trouble. They evade the railing with no casualties and Star Platinum wrecks the door before it can collapse. Once they’re inside, the danger is gone. Jotaro’s walking ahead and she’s in the middle with Star Platinum behind her.

When they get to the stairs leading to the rooftop, the group stops and exchanges looks. They’re quietly ascending the stairs, Jotaro’s the one who breaks the lock on the door to the roof and (Y/N) clutches her weapon a bit tighter. He’ll make sure she doesn’t need to use it. When he slams the door open, the Stand is caught off guard. Instead of fighting, it adheres to its cowardly ways. Only Jotaro can see it.

He gives chase and she’s behind him, following even when she can’t see their target. The Stand is cornered easily and, what’s more, when it tries to use its ability to make a random inanimate object attack them, both attempts are foiled. It’s probably weird for (Y/N) to sit still, unaware that Star Platinum is beating up the other Stand while Jotaro observes.

One of the punches seems to hit the switch.

God, this hurts. My momma didn’t teach me enough to deal with pain. And what’s this unfairness? The bad guy isn’t supposed to win. I’m not supposed to fail. I can’t fail. This favour’s supposed to be quick, easy and fun. I love it when things are quick, easy and fun. My jaw might be broken. And my ribs. I can barely move. Fuck, I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here. This wasn’t planned. This can’t be happening. The bad guy can’t win.

And what if I was told not to underestimate him? I didn’t. It was all perfect. So why was he working with my pretty collateral damage? He’s not supposed to work in a team. They’re not supposed to get out before they off themselves. Fuck. I have to run. I have to run far and Pichit has to wash my suit and pay for the goddamn hospital bill. I ain’t taking any jobs after this. I don’t care about the followers or the favours. Fuck my friends, they didn’t even warn me this could happen.

Ah, I just want to go back to my flat with Loverboy and order take-out. I want shiitake mushrooms and shrimp. My momma used to make them tasty. Fuck.

Everything is loud and bright. Birds are chirping and a fly is buzzing by the top of the fountain. The noises are everywhere – so many people talking at once it’s almost deafening at first. Jotaro is blinking at the water splashing around inside the fountain. There seems to be a small rainbow where the sun hits the miniature drizzle just right. (Y/N) is inside, wet from head to toe and staring up at him with parted lips and wondrous eyes.

Both of them are overwhelmed by the noise and the colours and the people. Some are having lunch, others are talking in small groups, walking around, crossing the yard, standing still, laughing, joking, and complaining. Voices and people everywhere. Even the girl who pushed (Y/N) into the fountain is still at Jotaro’s side, looking down at them with a scowl.

Everything went back to the instant they were transported by the Stand’s ability.

Jotaro gets the very intense urge to get in the fountain and hug her. She, in turn, is struggling with her own wish to jump and tackle him to the ground in front of everybody. Instead, she grins up at him and he offers her a hand. This time, she takes it. His fangirl doesn’t enjoy the sight. He couldn’t care less but she obviously has a vengeful side to her because once she’s standing to her feet, at least three people are looking at her wet form and Jotaro helps her jump out of the fountain, she slowly lets go of his hand and aims a big smile at the fangirl.

“Thank you for this, Hori. I’m indebted to you and I like how my hair looks when it’s wet. I’ll buy you lunch tomorrow, okay?” The girl blinks at her, utterly stupefied and just a bit disturbed. (Y/N) turns to Jotaro and smiles at him, too. “Now, should we go?” He sighs and they hold onto their backpacks while rounding the fountain. Jotaro knows they’re heading to the rooftop.

“You didn’t make a scene,” he remarks on their way into the building. She’s just a bit wary of the door. Her shoes squeak down the hallway and people are staring at her weirdly. She’s not used to it because she forgets her appearance is supposed to inspire confusion.

“You’re taking me out on a date later, Kujo. She deserves gratitude.” The quip makes the dark-haired male glance down at her doubtfully. He has to admit maybe he doesn’t mind the idea of taking her out on a date. Most of all when it would’ve taken him way longer to get out if he’d been on his own. Still, he’s just a bit surprised at how well she’s taking this – mostly the aftermath that might’ve left her scarred. He hands her his jacket and she drapes it over her shoulders. “Thanks. How about you don’t kill the guy? I want to ask him about my theory.”

“You look quite unaffected by the experience, (L/N).” The remark makes her lips purse. Even if the death wasn’t real, the sensations were quite on point. He glimpses momentary discomfort on her face before she lets out an airy chuckle.

“I think we’re close enough to use first names at this point. And also, I might be a bit more adaptable than I thought.” In spite of that, Jotaro stays mad at the stupid fuck who intervened in their normal lives. She would’ve been better off not living this. They’re climbing the stairs and the lock on the rooftop door is already broken when they arrive. Jotaro opens the door and expects a fearsome enemy’s attack. He’s not prepared for the disfigured bleeding mess on the floor. Next to him, (Y/N)’s eyes widen in fright and her nose scrunches up. Three wrinkles for disgust.

“G-Get away from me!” The guy draws back in horror, splayed on the ground and trying to crawl back. He has two pink tresses in his blond hair. “F-fucking psychos! How did you---“

“Let me stop you right there,” (Y/N) says, stepping forward and glaring down at his bloody face. As far as Jotaro can see, he’s got a broken nose, a split brow and two busted teeth. His ribs are probably cracked. “We’ll walk you out of the university premises and you won’t come back ever. But before that, I want to ask you about your Stand’s ability. It’s a mental space, right?” The guy blinks at her.

“A loop, yea. B-But you’re fucking crazy and I don’t have to answer any questions.” His voice comes out wheezy and squeaky. He’s shaking in fear. Jotaro quirks a brow at his defiant behaviour and (Y/N) glances at the dark look on his face.

“I think you’ll prefer it to the other option.” She’s not smiling but her voice is upbeat and placid. “Now, since it’s a loop in a mental space, was there a way for us to get out without beating your Stand?” She isn’t nearly as disturbed by the sight of the beaten-up man. Jotaro thinks this much is enough although he wouldn’t be against some more. An additional punch or two just to be safe. The guy spits out a spiteful spoonful of blood and snorts.

“Yeah, the disrespecter here had to give up on shit a-and off himself because you’re not compatible at all and---“

“So we had to fall in love or kill ourselves?” She cuts off with wide eyes, making Jotaro’s lips purse. The guy at their feet growls in outrage and points up at the dark-haired Stand user.

“T-That’s the whole point! He can’t love shit and you’re the perfect collateral damage because you barely talk to him!” His words would have made sense if it weren’t for her theory. She’s grinning and her hands are on her hips when she tips her chin proudly and looks up at Jotaro, who only averts his gaze in spiteful defeat. He shouldn’t have let her come along. She could’ve gone through life without the knowledge she was right.

“I told you! I was right the whole time!” Her finger jabs into his biceps and she tugs on the jacket around her shoulders while clearing her throat and looking down at the guy again. He’s staring at her like she’s crazy. He probably thinks they’ll kill him or something. “I figured it out. Without the part about killing ourselves. It’s a smart move but… we actually like each other, I think.” She gestures at them and the guy’s face contorts in utter disbelief. Jotaro clicks his tongue at the pathetic sight.

“So thanks for the date.” His deep voice makes (Y/N) grin.

“Y-You weren’t supposed to… Y-You can’t possibly, I watched you! You hate everybody! A-And---“

“Let’s get you out of here, huh? You’re pretty shaken up.” She crouches in front of the guy and he doesn’t dare strike her for fear Jotaro will act faster. They force him to his feet and he’s shaking like a leaf. Jotaro’s the one who has to support him on their way down the stairs. “Do you have a car or should we call an ambulance?” But he’s nearly catatonic because of the shock and doesn’t answer. “I didn’t think you’d beat the sense out of him, Jotaro.” She shoots Jotaro a look of reproach and he huffs.

“Let’s just walk him out and leave him outside.” Less than three minutes, they’re sneaking out of the side door leading to the parking lot. She’s wet from head to toe and they’re helping a bleeding man limp between the cars. When they reach the side entrance, Jotaro lets the Stand user slump down to the ground against the fence and glares at him. (Y/N)’s the one who crouches down, grips his nose and harshly pushes to the left. The guy screams and bites down on his tongue.

“I hope it hurt like a bitch. That’s for the long-term paranoia I’ll have around doors. And for making me see the guy I like being in pain.” Jotaro’s eyes widen at the action and her words, and then she stands to her feet, leaving the Stand user to whimper in pain while she heads back to the building. “Do you have anything to say to me about my theory?” She teases when Jotaro opens the door for her.

“It’s a bullcrap ability that wasn’t supposed to exist at all,” he states with a huff. She smiles and says it’s enough that he’s a bit spiteful in his rejection, then complains that she needs dry clothes to attend her next class. He hums and he knows it’s out of character when he suggests: “We can skip.”

“I didn’t think you were a bad boy, Jotaro.” She smirks and he clicks his tongue. “We do deserve rest after this. Might’ve been less than a second in reality but all the stress drained me. Are you hungry?” But both of them know neither had time to enjoy lunch and the experience messed with their heads in terms of orientation through time. He nods and she’s very transparent in her offer. “Come over so I can change and maybe I can cook for us.”

“Traditional?” He questions with a quirked brow and suggests omelettes and miso soup. He’s on board. And when they’re heading for the main entrance, she asks if he thinks the guy will try to attack him again. He sees the uncertainty on her face and shakes his head. “His Stand is the most cowardly thing I’ve seen. He wasn’t much better. He won’t risk it.”

“It’s weird how he accidentally picked the right people,” she muses with a hum. “He was so shocked we worked together, too. Do others think we don’t get along, too?” He thinks whoever even cares enough to be acquainted with them is pretty much aware they’re on good terms. And some – the ones she calls his fangirls – might even be suspicious regarding more. She wouldn’t be getting pushed into fountains otherwise even though Jotaro is greatly annoyed by the fact girls have turned pursuing him into a competition with him as the prize.

“Do you care about that?” He glances down at her and sees her tug his jacket and burrow her nose in the collar with a thoughtful hum. She’s cute sometimes.

“Depends. Maybe not.” So he thinks the conversation is done for the time being. Less than a minute late, she asks: “Hey, Jotaro, that one time we got to the classroom – would it have worked if you’d said it?” He knows exactly what she means and his blood runs cold in nervousness at the mention. Seeing as he refuses to answer, she nudges his arm with her elbow. He won’t say it. “Oh, come on, we survived a shitload together, you can tell me that at least.” Her eyes are twinkling up at him pleadingly.

“We’ll never know,” he concludes in a gruff voice. He’s scowling when she says she can just get the guy to activate his Stand’s ability again and have them test her theory. But there will be no need for that. “I’ll just beat him up again.” He’s glaring, tipping his hat lower, and she laughs. It’s a nice sound.

“You’re red, Jotaro.” She’s annoying. Annoyingly smart, too. His face is red, she’s smiling knowingly and she’s pretty even when she’s annoying. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. It would’ve worked.

#jotaro headcanons #maaaan jotaro kujo is a big boy #jotaro kujo x y/n #jotaro kujo x reader #reader insert #x reader #jojo x reader #jojo fanfiction #i know many don't know about my love for jojo but here it goes #wrote this in two days and am hyped to post it #even tho the storyline do be wobbly #i dreamed it btw so that's my excuse #JOTARO IS SO FUCKING UGHSSHDBHDNAKJNFS #frothing at the mouth #this man is just... perfect yes gimme #anyway 10k words for a 20-min plot #anyway enjoy?#also villain pov because i'm experimenting with unreliable narrators

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starredeclipse · 27 days

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Let’s throw a party!: a short story

(warning mentions of blood! Want to read part 1 and 2?: here you go ) In front of them amongst the many rows of tables and few chairs stood a animatronic with red fur and a hook for a hand, he towered over Teddy who was on the ground now, he had fallen over a chair allowing Molly to get away.

The boy screamed as the fox grabbed a hold of him when he tried to get up, Madison yelled out “We got to do something!” As the three of them stood there both stunned and confused on what they were even looking at, everyone seemed to be frozen in place as the animatronic raised his hook, everything seemed to be all over but as a chair came slamming down on the fox everyone seemed to unfreeze from the moment.

They saw Molly, the one who wasn’t the bravest out of the group taking on something that was far bigger than her, everyone sort of scrambled to action as the fox dropped Teddy due to the impact, the chair only seemed to stun it for a moment though before it turned its attention to Molly with a look of aggression, she let out a scream as it tried to grab her but she managed to dodge but just barely, this fox was quick. Jack jumped into the danger zone as he helped Teddy get away, the boys ran down a hallway in panic while Madison helped distract the fox “Hey you! Get your mangy hand off of my friends!” She was brave but also very scared, she didn’t have a game plan nor did she know what to do, all she knew was that somebody needed to lure whatever this was away so the others could escape and Madison was the fastest.

Foxy turned to look at her, his glare was menacing, his eyes flashed between red and white, almost like his visual censors were off. His movements were quick but clunky, the stage barely illuminated the area around them, Madison managed to pick up her flashlight before the fox reached her, she wasn’t ready, how could she be? The flash of a camera, the bright sudden light sent her vision into spots, she heard a metal screech of rage echo through her ears.

Her heartbeat raced so fast, she hadn’t even realized her own feet had started running not until she started gasping for breath. The darkness consumed everything in the hallway she found herself in, her flashlight barely lit up the areas around her as she ran and all she could hear was the clanking of a metal predator that was fast on her tail.

Madison ran around the corner, her shoes screeched against the black and white tile. Paper pals fell off the wall, a door opened and a pair of glowing red blue glitched eyes flashed from the dark doorway. The girl let out a scream as a purple looking bunny reached out as if to grab her, she ducked side stepping in a attempt to get out of range of its grasp slamming herself into the wall as a sharp pain ripped through her back.

Her breath hitched as she lurched forward nearly tripping herself and falling to the ground, tears stung at her eyes blurring her vision, could anything save her? Was she doomed to be ripped to shreds?

The only thing that saved her from a early end was the open room to her left, she stumbled into the room, the only thing illuminated was the buttons on a panel on the side of the door. Her back burned, everything was blurry, she stepped to the side the clanking of metal mere seconds away from her as she fell into the buttons that closed the door.

The scrapping of the cold hard metal panel opened the delicate wound on her back, red stained her shirt as Madison’s legs buckled and she found herself on the dirty tiled ground coughing and choking back sobs, metal slammed itself into the door repeatedly as if the animatronic itself had a major malfunction.

Madison cried when she finally could take a breath, she wanted her mom…..she wanted her dad, she didn’t want to be here anymore, this was supposed to be fun time out with her friends…..and now she felt like she might never get out of here. She tried her best to breath, she tried her best to think but she could barely do either, if it wasn’t for a gentle hand gripping her shoulder….she might not have ever gotten herself off the floor “J-Jack…?” His brown eyes looked horrified as he saw the blood on the back of her shirt that was only getting worse by the minute “Y-yeah, come on, we got to go!” His voice hissed with urgency, she wasn’t sure she could even run anymore, she was only running on pure adrenaline as he took her by the hand and led her down the rooms second door “Teddy already got out but I can’t find Molly or Brittany, after I get you out of here I’m going back for them” his words were determined, they both broke back into a run, a single flashlight lighting there way since the boy had dropped his at the mere sight of Foxy.

He managed to guide her back into the main party room before they saw Molly being chased by a robotic chicken, the chickens movements were janky and it kept making noises like its voicebox was broken “Molly!” Jack called to her but the only attention he managed to grab was the chickens, Jack and Madison froze in there steps as Chica looked at them, it changed its target but before they could run again Madison took a step back, she heard a sound….a crack sound? Her mind couldn’t register the source…..only that one moment she was standing ready to run and in the next second the ground from under her collapsed. Her eyes widened in that moment of weightlessness before reality snapped back to her in the form of Jack holding on her hand refusing to let go.

She looked up seeing the dim light of the room above her illuminating Jacks face, she didn’t remember saying the words “Don’t let me fall!” Nor does she remember what he said in turn, all she remembers……was seeing those metal glowing eyes staring from over his shoulder before everything went black.

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dameronology · 4 years

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ok I saw number 8 on your chaotic prompt list and I can’t stop thinking about that with Marcus Moreno 😂😂

marcus moreno + ‘i’m pregnant’ ‘with a baby?’ ‘well i sure fucking hope so.’

There was something classy about being sat on the edge of your bath tub at 3AM with a pregnancy test in your hand and a half-eaten Twinkie in the other.

It actually the snack itself that had made you take the pregnancy test. Until today, you’d hated the damn things and now you were craving them. If it hadn’t been for a haha, maybe you’re pregnant! comment from one Marcus Moreno, you wouldn’t have even clocked it. It was followed by the impending realisation that you were four days late and though you weren’t a Heroic, you might as well have had super-speed because of how damn quick you got to the pharmacy to buy a few pregnancy tests.

But then between your step-daughter demanding you watch Star Wars with her and Marcus insisting you spend the evening as a family, you hadn’t had a chance to take it. You wanted to do it in private - after all, Marcus had been dropping hints about having another kid for a long time and you didn’t want to get his hopes up if it came out negative. Missy had been just as bad, except she hadn’t been as subtle. She’d straight up asked you so when am I gonna get a sibling?

Now that they were both dead to the world, you finally had a chance to pee on the damn stick. You had your phone in one hand with the timer running, and a Twinkie resting in the other. The last two and a half minutes had been the longest of your fucking life. It wasn’t the first time you’d taken a pregnancy test, but every other time it had always been more of a...precaution. You’d always been so careful, but you and Marcus nowadays? Not so much. You weren’t trying for a baby, but you weren’t not trying for one either.

You almost slipped back into the bathtub when your phone suddenly started vibrating. Quickly shutting it off, you took a deep breath. Here was the moment of truth.

You flipped the test over, knowingly nodding when the two blue lines in the results window stared back at you. Yup. Positive. Just like the other nine you’d taken before this one. That would explain the cravings, the sudden mood swings and the fact you’d cried at a refrigerator commercial last week (their dog was really cute, okay?).

There was a lot to feel at once: happiness, panic, fear, elatedness, joy and...whatever the real life equivalent of a keyboard smash was. You hadn’t even realised you were crying until somebody thumped their hand against the door and pulled you back to reality.

‘Sweetheart, are you okay?’ Marcus quietly asked. He’d always been a light sleeper - came with the job, really - and he’d probably been woken by your phone alarm repeatedly ringing.

Leaping up from the bathtub (and not even blinking when your phone clattered to the floor), you practically flew across the room and tore the door open. His immediate reaction was to frown at your tears, arms reaching forward to grab you and pull you towards him.

‘What’s happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt-’

‘- Marcus.’ You cut him off, fists grabbing his t-shirt as you peered up at him. ‘I’m pregnant.’

He froze, mouth forming an o shape. ‘With a baby?’

‘I mean...’ you trailed off. ‘I sure fucking hope so.’

‘Oh my god.’ He murmured. ‘We’re gonna have a baby?’

‘Yes.’ You nodded firmly. ‘A human one, just to clarify.’

‘Holy shit.’

A grin broke out on his face and he picked you up, lifting you off the ground in a tight hug. You weren’t sure he’d ever held you so close in his life. Part of him was convinced that he was dreaming, that he was going to wake up any minute and find you asleep next to him. The feelings of your tears against his shirt was enough to make him realise that it was real. Being a dad was the best thing that ever happened to him and he got to do it all over again.

‘Can I see?’ He asked. ‘The test?’

‘Yeah, of course!’ You wiped away a fallen tear, dragging him into the bathroom. ‘I took ten, I know it’s expensive but-’

‘- in nine months time, they’re gonna be the cheapest part of the pregnancy.’ Marcus cut you off with a teary chuckle, brown eyes falling on the pile of tests. They helped cement the realisation. ‘C’mere.’

He grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you tightly against him with a thud, arms holding you even tighter than before. He rested his chin on top of your head, pressing a few soft kisses to your hair line. The idea of a human that was half you and half him was almost overwhelming. No, scrap that. It was overwhelming, and in the best way possible.

‘There’s gonna be four of us.’ You grinned. ‘Five, if we get that dog we promised Missy.’

‘I think a new sibling might make her forget about the dog-’

‘- yeah but I want the dog too.’ You pouted.

‘Okay, fine.’ He was too elated to disagree. ‘Family of five.’

‘Including the dog?’

‘Including the dog.’

#tw: pregnancy #asks #i googled 'what does it feel like to find out you're pregnant' and my mum saw it on my screen #the fear in her eyes #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno imagines #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character headcanons

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dontbipanicjonsa · 3 years

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Can't believe they Pol!Jon-baited us (I finished the show, unfortunately)

Like queer-baiting, yes.

Lucky for me I'm used to being baited.

No but really. I cannot believe how they utterly ruined Jon's character by the end.

Sure, I can still say Pol!Jon was happening. I can say that Jon told Varys his, "she is my Queen" because he didn't trust that Varys wouldn't betray him to Dany. Kind of like how Sansa would call Joffrey her King and renounce her family while she was stuck in KL.

I can say that Jon was clearly trying to talk down/calm Dany when he said "I love you" and then immediately followed it with "you are my Queen" (again) because he knew that was what really mattered to Dany.

I can say plenty of his actions were driven by fear.

I can say that his "love is the death of duty" can be interpreted as his love for his family and his need to protect them which led him down the Pol!Jon path that proceeded to grow utterly out of his control (death of his duty to the realm of men etc)

But that still doesn't cut it.

At some point his actions cross from Pol!Jon to nonsensical. Is he really the kind of guy who would follow an obvious tyrant because he "loves" her? Does he love her??? HOW

Is he so deeply in love that his vocabulary has been cut down to only "you are my Queen" and "I don't want it"? Very romantic.

Basically, I can't believe that he loved her, I also can't believe he would hesitate to try to stop her unless he did love her. So basically......idk. It doesn't make sense. Why did he need to be convinced that Dany has to be removed from power??

On a lighter note- wtf are we all still debating about???? Last episode made it clear that Jon and Sansa love each other.

I mean....

When Danaerys and Jon talk about the "others" that Dany says "won't get to choose", who are they really talking about? Who is "they"?

Let's see, Edmure from the Riverlands ? Nah, dude has too strong self preservation skills.

Who's at Highgarden? Sam? Some rando? The Unsullied? They're not gonna wage war on Dany alone. So no.

The Westerlands? Well, the Lannisters just died, besides Tyrion who's imprisoned. Dany would have probably elected somebody to take over that place.

The Vale? Right. Sweetrobin would utterly destroy Dany with his smirky face, but it's unlikely he'd try.

The Pyke? Last we checked, Yara took it back in Dany's name.

The Stormlands? Why would Gendry do that ? To avenge KL? Unlikely.

Dorne? We don't even know the freaking name of that supposed Prince.

The wildlings? Why??

That's right. Neither Jon nor Dany have reason to believe that anybody else will rebel in Westeros....except the North. Except Sansa.

"They" is Sansa. Jon killed Dany for Sansa.

Not to mention, Sansa is repeatedly brought up in the scenes leading up to Jon killing Dany, because she is the point of conflict between them. Besides his parentage, of course.

And Sansa. My girl brought a whole ass army to the capital just for Jon. Straight up said she'd declare war if anyone hurt him. Honestly, she can declare war on me anytime she wants.

Actually it's pretty hilarious-

Sansa to Bran: you ain't my king

Sansa to Jon: but you're my king :/

And also-

Sansa to Jon: can you forgive me

Jon to Sansa: dammit let me stay angry for a moment :(

Dorks.

I will say, if the show had actually been consistent till the end, I would believe that Sansa being seemingly not angry at Jon is a sign that Pol!Jon was a thing. Because otherwise he would have given away the North to a foreign queen simply because he was in love with her, and put his entire Kingdom and family at a huge risk of being burnt alive, as KL was. Not sure if Sansa would still say things like "but we lost our king" then.

But the show ISN'T consistent so what's the point anymore?

Another thing-

Dany is a tragic figure ultimately. She needs the love of her subjects, but fails to realise that conquering a continent with fire breathing dragons and the "love of the people"....do not go hand in hand.

Jon's "I love you" was calculated, but he failed to follow through on it the way she wanted.

Now, I'm going to list three ways in which Jonerys stagnated the story and generally sucked, because I'm petty like that.

1) Sansa says- you have to be smarter than Father.

Say Jon did fall in love with Dany, and he really was honorable the entire time....even at the Dragon Pit where he refused to lie to Cersei. A true Northern Fool. What was the point of that line then? He didn't learn shit. No, he got worse. Because we know Jon has lied in the previous seasons.

Actually, this lends more to making me believe Pol!Jon was real. Jon mentions his Father quite a bit in S7, and it is always about how honorable his father was. Seriously, we know Ned was honorable. You don't have to keep telling us. Unless.....?

Arya and Sansa talk about Ned too, but their conversation is not about honor.

So seriously Jon, don't you have anything else to say about your dad? Or are you trying to convince everyone of your own supposed honor by connecting yourself so strongly to your Father's honorable-ness.

We really didn't need that many reminders. It's sus.

2) Sansa says- you have to be smarter than Robb.

And then what did Jon do? Went South, fell for a foreigner, lost his crown, lost some of his standing in the North, and eventually the story ended tragically and a whole lot of people died.

Once again, what was the point? Why have Sansa specifically tell Jon not to make the same mistakes as his father and brother only to have him go and make those same mistakes? That's not how stories move forward.

If Jon really pulled a Robb, then Sansa and the North are perfectly justified in their anger.

3) Jon and Ygritte.

So....Jon goes to place where he's essentially a prisoner, meets woman who's into him, falls into Stockholm Syndrome with her, puts his duty and honor on hold to enter an abusive relationship with her, wilfully blinds himself to her flaws to cope, and then eventually (directly or indirectly) leads to her death.

Ygritte and Dany are....the same. Dany is Ygritte with dragons. Once again, what was the point?

Did Jon's story really just repeat itself, beat for beat? Is this like some loop he's cursed to live in?

Pol!Jon is the only way we can respect Jon's character growth from the time he was with Ygritte till the end of S6. Jon from S6 would not fall in love with Dany.

Side note- how do you put that "read more" cut in these posts? I feel like this one got too long.

#jonsa meta #jonsa #all roads lead to jonsa #dark dany #political jon #pol!jon

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youwontlikethisblog · 3 years

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The After Math Of Their First Time.

Now in the after math we have an even more confused Armando. While Betty has had yet another dream of hers become a reality.

As I mentioned in my previous post regarding this night(Forgive Me Post) when Armando goes to drop off Betty he brings up the fact that it wasn't Betty's first time(he wasn't her first) he asks her: Beatriz , who were you with before[me]? when she stays silent and worries her mouth Armando's demeanor changes.

"There was another man in your life, right?" She stopped making eye contact with him before he asked this question and nods while swallowing hard, briefly makes eye contact and tells him:

"Yes Sir. There was someone. I had a relationship before[you]."

"Nicolas Mora?" Armando says not missing a beat nor a second. His lips sit in a tight line while he examines Betty.

"No." She says in a low voice, swallows hard and shakes her head. Since her behavior and mannerisms all go in hand with what she's saying; Armando who is a man who is good at manipulating people based on body language(not as good as Mario though) believes her. He stops staring at her, turns to look in front of him and looks to take a breath of relief. "It was somebody else but I don't like talking about that." He turns to stare at her.

"No, I don't want to make you uncomfortable either." He seems more relaxed here than he did seconds ago "Let's not talk about it anymore."

I briefly touched on the subject in the last post that Armando was jealous in this scene, however, what type of jealousy? I would like to expand on this here.

(If you haven't yet; read post Nicolas Mora Is Better Than You before you continue reading this post.)

Jealousy is a bunch of feelings summed into one: Insecurity, inadequacy, resentment, hopelessness, and/or disgust.

While Armando does feel possessive of Betty as an object, harbors feelings of animosity against Nicolas he also is jealous of not only Betty(and her "relationship" w Nic) but Nicolas. He is extremely jealous of him and not only because he is a threat in an economic level or even a romantic level but because he is a threat in all aspects.

To really understand this lets ignore what I said in the previous post about how Armando isn't the one that is actively in Betty's personal life and how he only gets glimpse of it or how Don Hermes approves of Nicolas.

Lets completely ignore that Nicolas is in Terra Moda, Betty is the owner of Eco Moda and working for Armando.

Let's pretend that Betty and Armando met one day and they established a friendship of sorts. Maybe they shopped at the same grocery store, maybe Armando and her interacted when she worked at the banks(bc she never got fired) and from there formed a friendship of sorts.

Though things were always impersonal, Betty had a small crush on Armando who went to the bank on a regular biases where they talked about money blah blah blah and Armando slowly started to wonder about Betty and her personal life and one day Armando finds out Betty has a boyfriend.

He finds out when he goes to the bank by overhearing Betty talking with a work friend about it(in this scenario we'll also be forgetting that he is extremely obsessed with perfection) and he asks her about it once their meeting is over and she tells him she doesn't have one but he ponders about this on his own and becomes paranoid about his feelings and investigates who Nicolas is by asking said work friend of Betty's about Nicolas.

He finds out Nicolas is a man desired my many women, who is relatively economically comfortable, is extremely smart and that Betty's dad, who hates everyone, approves of him and that they see each other mostly every single day and that he's always around and that she's stupidly in love with him and that Nicolas, even though he's a good looking man and who has women fawning and crazy about him is also interested in Betty so he isn't a superficial man and cares about the substance of people which means Betty is really exquisite, but that they aren't actually dating because he hasn't made a move on Betty(I combined what Mario, Bertha, and Mariana said).

What Armando knows of his feelings is that he looks forward to seeing Betty when he goes to the bank because she's always so kind and accommodating to him and communicative as well and that she's always personally helping him so they are constantly communicating and he looks forward to it. He knows that Betty is a smart woman and that she also has really wonderful qualities that he likes and because she's also so unconditional with him he thought maybe Betty liked him, that it made sense she'd be like that towards him and that it made him feel special but now he finds out that somebody else has Betty's heart.

So he decides to ask her out and they embark into this affair of sorts(We're also ignoring the sinister plan). However while he is still curious and wondering about how Betty's personal life is and how her inner world is, Betty hasn't welcomed him into it yet. Better yet Betty keeps him at arms length and though he has been somewhat honest and invited her into his personal life he still stands on the outside meanwhile Nicolas remains on the inside and he isn't leaving any time soon.

Armando begins to resent that Betty isn't letting him in while he has let her in, he begins to resent Nicolas for taking Betty away from him one way or another. He feels that he isn't as important or as special as he thought he was and this makes him insecure as a person. He begins to feel inadequate, for the first time in his life, in the romantic front.

So this night after Betty and him have finally taken their relationship to the next step he angrily asks her if Nicolas was her first.

Why do I bring this make believe up?

We're so clouded by the past actions and who Armando is in the core of it all and his complexities that I'm neglecting this important fact. Armando doesn't just view Nicolas as competition, he feels inadequate next to Nicolas and as he told Betty, he imagined and thought he'd be her first(it most likely is also that he thought no man would have slept with Betty up until he did).

It's why he repeatedly told Mario that he couldn't do that to her. He wasn't talking about not being able to physically make himself have sex with her because she's "ugly". He was talking about the morality of it. That he couldn't take something so valuable from Betty with deception, that he couldn't be the man that she gave her first experience to when he didn't love her because he knew how it would impact her, how it would hurt her when he ended the relationship and he couldn't bring himself to do that to her(however like I already pointed out, while Betty was being vulnerable Armando began to fall in love and that's what made him want to sleep with her).

So when they finally do sleep together Armando is disappointed that he isn't her first time and when he asks her about it and she confirms it, he now fears that Nicolas was her first time. He fears that Betty gave herself, her first experience to him because it means that Nicolas managed to figure his feelings out before him, that Nicolas was better than him both morally and as a man.

He wants to be part of Betty's personal life. He desires to be in her inner circle. We see this when he hears Don Hermes express himself about Nicolas. When he knows that Nicolas has dinner with her family, that he spends time inside her house. He knows what Don Hermes thinks of him[Armando] because he heard him say he'd fight him the night he hid behind their couch(Brutas! La Policía! post). It isn't just that Nicolas could be better than him now, it's Nicolas could be the one to possess something so intimate of Betty's now.

So when Betty explains that Nicolas wasn't her first time all of a sudden the resentment leaves him and he agrees to not talk about it. However Betty's behavior leaves him a lot more curious. Now this confession of Betty's leaves him picado. I imagine that he probably ponders about her first time wonders why she was so off by it, why she doesn't like talking about it. He wonders about the relationship she had before him and who that man was and how it ended. He probably wonders if Nicolas knows about it and again how Nicolas manages to hold something he desperately wants: her trust.

He respects her desire to not want to speak about it and they say goodnight.

I already talked about the argument Marcela and Armando have when he gets to the apartment in the last post but since that post was so rushed and I was like twelve hours in writing that post I just half-baked it so I'll try to briefly, but in-depth, break it down.

As Armando enters his apartment, like a guilt-free man, he plays with his dog(I'mma call this lost soldier GBNF (Gone But Not Forgotten)) and pets him, we hear Betty's monologue.

I've touched on this in previous post, specifically the Tonight A Dream Of Mine Has Come True, the way that scene and this scene are presented is to show us that what we hear Betty saying is what Armando is thinking, I explained it in detail in that post so if you haven't read it, I recommend you do :)

While Betty says "He told me that he loved me but he also proved it to me with actions." we see Armando pondering over this as he stops interacting with GBNF probably telling himself 'I told her I loved her and this time seggs was different, I was different... could I love her? Nah it's probably not that.' except that instead of being able to go into his room to mediate on the night and its events he finds Marcela on his bed.

[I talked about the parallels in my rant post and the Forgive Me post]

While Marcela is mad and Armando is pretending to care that she is and trying to defend himself he behaves towards her very differently here. The day Betty tried a new look Armando told Mario that the only thing that keeps him with Marcela, at least the only good thing about their relationship, was the seggs and that he was satisfied with it, it's why he always gave into her manipulation because even if he wasn't in the mood, even if he told her no, even when he did so out of guilt and responsibility he still got off and at least that was worth it(that's like actually really sad. He needs a therapist for another reason now, bb get you some support and help). As we know this time he plain out rejects her and doesn't allow for her to manipulate him and when she tries to he turns her down.

Marcela throws it in his face that she had been calling him but he hadn't answered the phone since they last spoke and Armando goes on to angrily explain that next time they won't agree to speak until the next day and that he'll constantly call her and report himself so she can control him like a little kid, that every five minutes he can remind her who he is and he looks so pissed and done, like emotionally just frustrated with this argument.

Yes we know Marcela has a reason to not trust him but she feeds the cycle of her own as well. It would be so easy for her to remove herself from the situation/relationship but the problem here isn't that Armando cheats and gaslights her, the problem here is that Marcela doesn't want to let go of him. She feels entitled to him and because of this entitlement she completes the circle of hell. Again I'm not saying that Armando is innocent, he's not, he's a cheating scumbag, but she knew this before they got engaged, like she knew what she was getting herself into and she still wanted in and when they got engaged she felt entitled to all of him(I talk about this in like mostly every post, for once I'd like to write something good about her lol).

Marcela then stops arguing, you can tell she feels guilty for it and reaches out to him, placing her hands on his shoulders but he moves and pulls her hands from him and steps away from her and lays on his bed while Marcela gets on her knees, beside his bed and explains that she was only worried about him, that she thought something bad had happened to him.

Unlike with Betty, who asked him if he felt ill because of the drinks, who had her arms around him(though sometimes he looked like he wanted to take them off of him) when she asked him this and he said he was fine or maybe the drinks were affecting him, Betty told him she'd make him feel better, he asked her how, she said with her kisses and bam consenting make-out town.

The parallel of this is Marcela expressing "worry" about Armando, who tells her he's fine.

"I just want to go to the bathroom wash up, get in my pijamas, and go to bed."

"No, I can't wait that long." She says and starts to kiss him and undress him but he tells her:

"Marcela, Please." he pleas.

"It doesn't matter , you're fine as you are, please." She begs him in a I guess seductive way?

However Armando has barely touched her, when she neared him he kept his hands up in the air, only has one hand on her back as if trying to pull her from him. He then stares at her, with a cold stare of rejection(I think he's thinking to himself 'did she not hear me? I said no. I said no!') and Marcela reacts offended.

"What's your problem? Do you not want to be with me? Do you want me to leave?" She asks with an angry tone and arms folded in front of her. Armando now stares at her with fear.

Which is different from when Betty asked him if he wanted to no longer be with her and go to Marcela's apartment. When she asked him if he was feeling bad, and if he wanted to drop her off home. Armando explained to her it wasn't that but it was just getting late, however at the club he not only accepted her advances but he also encouraged them(Forgive Me Post). Not only that when Armando rejected her advance inside the hotel room, Betty respected his no.

"I'm tired." He says after trying to find an excuse. His tone of voice shows fear as he talks as if he were out of breath and though he has told her this excuse before, he hadn't given her this stare of determination. He wasn't even going to give her wiggle room and when she notices this she stands up and tells him that that had never stopped him before(yeah cause you manipulated him and pushed his boundaries).

Armando doesn't allow her questioning of his manhood to keep him from staying faithful to Betty. Instead, unlike before when he just basically gave up and let Marcela convince him otherwise, he tells her that tonight it would be an impediment for him but this whole time he looks fearful and nervous.

Now the next day Betty arrived to Eco Moda with contentment and excited to see Armando(dude Wilson is always so sweet to Betty(lets ignore the first couple of ep)).

Betty saw Marcela and Armando arriving together, which we know what that implies to Betty.

So once inside of Eco Moda, after Armando told her they needed to talk, as Betty is going towards their office she sees the personification of her guilty conscious in the shape of Marcela.

What Marcela is saying to her is what Betty is telling herself, while she also tries to justify what they did. When Marcela says that last night when he was done with her she went and made love to her[Marcela] and that it could be that he is playing Betty or her but maybe them both but that she[Marcela] is the one that Armando is going to end up with.

This speaks on Betty's fears.

When she enters their office Armando is waiting for her. He starts off explaining that he knew he had told her that he'd go to his apartment and spent the night by himself but Betty interrupts him by saying: "Nonono Sir. I told you I respect that relationship, I get it." (She sure do have a funny way of showing "respect" for that relationship.

Armando then goes on to clarify that nothing happened, basically that he was truthfully only with her and that he stayed faithful to her.

But Betty tells him that he doesn't need to explain things. Armando then begs her to allow him to explain things to her. Why does he beg her?

In a past post I explained how to Armando it was so important to be able to trust Betty and to know that she didn't lie to him(Betty, My Betty! Part 2.5 post.) but ever since the night that he fought Roman and Co. things have begun to change. Armando has become a bit more attentive and in tune with Betty's needs, desires, and feelings and after last night, it is more evident here that he needs her to know that he was impecable, that he didn't lie to her or hurt her. He needed her to know that he was truthfully only with her and that he wouldn't touch Marcela or another woman after being with her because she was special to him and their first time meant a lot to him as well. He needs her trust him and believe in him.

So he begins to explain things to her, being honest and albeit dramatic(he always is when he's retelling events).

Now for the last scene of this post lets make a deep dive to Mario and Armando's conversation/ Aura Maria and Betty's conversation.

I won't really breakdown the dialogue here, instead I'll breakdown the tone and behavior from Armando and Mario.

After Mario begs him to tell him about the night Armando calls him a vieja chismosa (A woman who likes gossip) and they go off to the meeting room.

A reluctant Armando tells him he did sleep with Betty. He is stiff the entire time as he talks to Mario, showing that he is uncomfortable sharing this with him and that he doesn't, on a very different level, want to share the intimacy he shared with Betty, but he'll only share a bit of it to get him off his back and to also be able to process what happened and how he feels about it.

As Mario says that he can imagine the concentration and imagination that Armando had to have had to be able to sleep with Betty, Armando, sitting still holding his hands(showing he is trying to comfort himself or is angry, looking at the context clues the serious expression, his tone of voice and how he seems to be refraining himself it is anger what he is feeling.) grits his teeth and clenches his jaw.

He isn't only uncomfortable talking to Mario about this but he is angry at him for what he is saying and insinuating. He tries to end the conversation when Mario jokes, telling him that he answered his question, however Mario asks him how it affected him and Armando tries to explain why it affected him to begin with.

In short words Armando tells him that Betty isn't just another woman he slept(one of his models or occasional friend) with but that she is an important woman to him and because of that reason last night was important to him.

"I made love with a woman who is in love, who is truthfully in love." He says this with a tender tone, something that holds importance to him, that makes him happy, that sweetens his life. In other words something that makes him soft but also the realization of Betty's love for him and how true it is. "This doesn't welcome any jokes." He says and angrily tells Mario "So don't expect for me to act like nothing happened. Of course it affects me, my skin isn't made of iron." In another post(Tonight A Dream Of Mine Has Come True and La Arrogancia De La Niña) I explained how Armando doesn't feel comfortable when the subject revolves around Betty as a person so when Mario makes jokes and Armando tries to defend why he feels the way he does and explain himself, as well as try to understand how he feels he stops being so reluctant in the conversation but as soon as Mario starts making jokes again he stops, gets angry and shuts off.

"Okay, one second, you're telling me that you're feeling something for Betty?" Armando looks at him with furrowed eyebrows and concerned eyes and he swallows hard. One could simply assume that he is confused or even simply worried but it goes more than that. This is the exact same expression he had when Marcela was reading that poem(Don't Yell At Her! Don't You Yell At Her! post) he is anguished to tell this to Mario, to be that vulnerable with him but also, that he is worried that he has feelings for her and the implications of said feelings.

Lets rewind a few steps and look at the journey of Armando's feelings so far.

1: He begins to take notice of Betty as a loyal employee

2: He begins to blur the lines of impersonal to personal.

3: He starts to change towards the way he treats her as her boss because he cares about how Betty feels working for him(Which he didn't care about that with the rest).

4: he makes her his confidant in all aspects of his life.

5: he entrust her with his entire livelihood(trust her like no other)

6: he begins to get curious about her personal life.

7: he is forced to face the reality of why he is so "special" to her. AKA the revelation that Betty "has" a boyfriend.

8: He drunkenly confesses his feelings to Betty.

9: he soberly confesses his feelings to Betty.

10: he lives under denial of said feelings but his subconscious is stronger than he is.

11: each night he spends with Betty his emotional attraction grows until it becomes physical attraction(Which he denies).

12: He has had to learn to notice and place Betty's needs, desires, and feelings before his own and enjoys doing so.

13: he is forced to once again face his feelings of attraction towards Betty the night before.

So again, Armando does what he does best, deny.

Due to his obsession with perfection, need to control everything, and his own personal conversations that he has within himself(Why couldn't we get those? I gotta be connecting the dots here a lot) this new revelation is a hard one to swallow. Armando has never been in love and he always thought he'd fall in love with a woman that looks like Marcela, Adriana Arboleda, etc. However now it is possible that he's in love, for the first time ever or at least beginning to fall in love, with Betty, the "ugly" assistant he has, who he knows his best friend would crucify if he found out about his true feelings so Armando, pained by this, denies it and it does pain him to deny these feelings from himself which is why we get this reaction.

To throw Mario off his scent he tells him he feels remorse, and that's it(Have y'all seen that John Mulaney special where he says that when he was a kid this police officer told him to throw his wallet across the street to make robbers run the other direction to throw them off his scent so he could escape? Basically same here).

Next Aura Maria and Betty start to talk. Betty expresses her happiness and how she would have never imagined that it would be like that(she really sticking to her five star review on yelp).

In the room over Armando is telling Mario the retelling of the events the previous night. He tells him that he wasn't capable of physically having sex with Betty when she came out of the bathroom and that of course, she picked up on it and told him she understood, that she knew no man could desire her.

So did Armando sleep with Betty out of pity? Out of compassion?

When we look at the context of previous scenes the short answer is no.

The long answer is this so sit tight. That night Armando did something he'd never done before, be intimate with a woman. Betty was extremely vulnerable with him this night. She gave more of herself to him than in the physical sense. She let him in, she welcomed him into her inner dilema and fears. She moved him, deeply moved him. She gave him something he desired more than sex. She gave him her intimacy.

When he is retelling what happened, especially when it gets to the physicality, he looks up, as if reliving the moment visually in his memory. His expression is of peace and joy. He is not disgusted with the mental image he has, in fact he is pleased with it.

Mario is staring at him the entire time with eyebrows raised, wide eyes and a slight frown. Since Armando isn't staring at him(he's savoring his memory) he doesn't notice this but as soon as he stares at him Mario stops and convers his mouth. He then congratulates him and tells him that so far things sounded like they went well and he asks for more.

In the post Tonight A Dream Of Mine Has Come True I explained the comfort Mario has at asking these sorts of questions implying that both Mario and Armando don't hold back in being explicit when they talk about their conquests and one night stands so here he expects nothing less. He expects for Armando to tell him everything about Betty and what they did. He expects a word for word replay of the night but like the times before when it comes to subjects such as these, Armando shuts it down(finally a gentleman).

Mario pesters, asking who he used as a mental image, who he imagined instead of Betty.

"No inspiration used. Last night I made love to Beatriz Pinzon Solano." Armando says starting at Mario, who looks away from him, closes his eyes and convers his mouth. Armando looks down at his hand , which he's been fidgeting with, with a frown on his lips.

Armando is lying to Mario, not about who he slept with the previous night, but about his feelings and it upsets him that he can't talk this through or talk to his best friend about his feelings because he knows that Mario will just make fun of him for it. This is where we begin to see this change in Armando take shape, while before it was blurry and almost unnoticeable now it is becoming focused and recognizable.

Armando does want to talk about his feelings and he does want to understand them to some degree. Almost like there's this yearning and screaming inside of him to understand what he feels for Betty, especially after the confession he made to Betty and not only how he felt about the whole experience but because he knows, he freaking knows he treated Betty differently than any other woman before her and the fact that he didn't even desire nor want to be touched by Marcela as well disturbes him but he has no safe space or place to be able to talk about said feelings so the best thing he can do is run away from them but unlike before, this upsets him.

It's like denying himself from something he needs.

When Mario once more tries to pry any details of Betty's body Armando gets upset and tells him he doesn't understand how he managed to do that, that it was just something that came out of nowhere. Mario then asks if what is disturbing him is that fact or what it could be he feels something, but Armando tells him that he just feels guilty for it all and his conscious is killing him.

While yes this is true, he doesn't like deceiving Betty, deep down he is actually aware now that he does care for Betty and that he was both emotionally and physically satisfied with Betty. Armando is actually welcoming the understanding of his feelings while before he lived in denial of them and avoiding them, now he wants to understand them but he knows he can't do that with his best friend so he once more, like before, shuts down and gets mad at Mario.

While Betty tells Aura Maria that her boyfriend told her he loved her for the first time, Aura Maria tells her that saying it and proving it are two different things but an overjoyed Betty tells her that he not only told her he loved her but that showed it to her because he was really special and she had never imagined it would have been like that.

Both The Pervert and Aura ask the same question "Tell me how was it?"

Mario throws out synonymous for the words "hot seggs" he is wanting to know what woman was under those clothes that made him feel the way he did, Mario is strictly physical and that's it and while Armando to some point was the same, he knew that Armando also desired a stable and good relationship and to fall in love, as Armando himself told him that.

So Armando tells him she was none of that and that seggs with her was none of that.

"So then?"

"It was like..." He stops to think, looking for the right word when he finds it he smiles, again as if remembering it fondly, "sweet."

"What?" Mario murmurs. "Sweet?" he says in a disbelief tone and low voice. "A-Armando look me in the eyes." Armando does so. "It was really sweet?"

Armando pulls away from the wall he had been leaning and shifts to face him, leaning against said wall again, and after taking a deep breath begins to explain.

"Calderon, that woman is in love with me. What? did you expect for it to not be? It had to be sweet, so yes, sweet." He says explaining. His eyes brows are middle raised, slightly squinting his eyes but his features are soft, he leans against the wall while with one hand he moves in the air to explain things with the other he has it in his pocket. This indicates, roughly, an anxious attitude as well as not wanting to talk more about the subject and that he's upset to continue talking about it.

"I get that she's in love with you but were you really sweet to her too?" Armando, who turned away from him is once more leaning hard against the blinds of the window, arms folded in front of him and eyebrows middle lowers, indicating frustration.

"He was really sweet, Aura Maria. I didn't expect him to be like that. That's why I'm saying that I think he really does love me." She smiles. Aura Maria celebrates with her.

"Okayokay. So it was really sweet for the both of you." Mario raises his arms up in a "I'm innocent." manor.

"Mhm"

"Armando, you're worrying me." He places his hands inside his pockets. Armando is staring elsewhere, worrying his bottom lip with eyebrows middle lowered(almost close together) since he looks somewhat zoned out we can assume that he is in deep thought. "What happened. Talk to me." Armando turns to look at him and defeated lets out a sigh, closes his eyes and goes to sit down and starts to talk.

"I don't know, I have to clear myself. I'm going to try and be as clear as possible with you. Lets see, I-no-best said lets separate two things. One thing is that is ugly, right?(he confused about it now? I'm just joking)." Mario agrees. "And another thing would be that I hate Betty, I don't hate Betty." This time his eyebrows are pulled closer together with really squinted eyes. He is really evaluating his feelings here and making the effort to understand them. "All the contrary, I have an immense endearment for her. She is a very important woman in my life."

(ENGLISH GET A WORD EQUIVALENT TO QUIERO/QUIERE!)

"You cherish her?"(it's the best word I could find to translate this, English is so tragic tbh.)

"Of course." Armando admits, he has a look of relief washed away with panic and now he begins to deny, freaked out by his own emotions he tries to justify his feelings for something they're not. "Of course I cherish her. I cherish her-" he places a finger on his philtrum: anxiousness and hesitant to speak. "like you cherish Sara, your secretary. Yes like my dad cherish Susana his secretary. I-I think that one in life...cherishes a lot of people and the relationship that Betty and I have established is a relationship of..." He starts to fidget with his fingers worrying his bottom lip and staring off at something on the table. "of friends." he stares at Mario and with his hand, open, explains to him. "We're friends and we cherish each other a lot. Man, I start to think and Betty is a person who has always been unconditional with me, who has always been there when I've needed her. She's a person who has saved my life, who risks her life for me every day she's a person( I don't want to use the word love but English you suck so I gotta) I love a lot(he means platonically)" Mario stares at him with raised eyebrows, wide eyes and a frown. "Tell me, why wouldn't I feel that for her? Why shouldn't I feel endearment for her?"

"No, no of course. Why not?" Mario reacts slow. He is trying to "Respect" Armando's feelings even though he wants to make fun of him for it but he knows if he does that Armando will stop talking about how he feels, therefore, stop giving him intel. "Why not? It's just this is the first time I hear you say you love her."

"Because I wasn't aware of this until now!" Armando says frustrated. "Until now that I'm faci...facing Betty." He slightly furrows his brows and stares elsewhere with a shocked expression of revelation. He takes in a deep breath and places a finger in front of his lips, thinking this through. "Calderon, cherishing Betty isn't a crime, bro." Notice his tone of voice as he confesses this final part is full of emotion. This fear that he had been carrying within himself for days, weeks or even months, that he cared about Betty deeply cares but was afraid to admit this to himself much less out loud until now, he finally admits it, he finally says it out loud because he is in a desperate need to understand how he feels about her and he accepts it. He accepts that this is how he feels and that it isn't wrong for him to feel like this because she deserves it.

Armando then goes on to say that what they are doing to her is a crime. To do that to his partner in crime, who loves him and dreams of him twenty four seven and that is what is killing him.

"It should be killing you if you did it with repulsiveness but no, you did so, sweetly. Sweetie pie." he sings at the end. Armando now looks at him in disbelief and anger.

"Then how would I have done it? She's in love, how was I going to do it then?"

Mario is now out of his element, unlike in previous scenes, this time Mario is not in control of Armando so he reacts irrationally.

"Yes but you've slept with Marcela who is in love with you and so far from what I understand the hook-ups aren't so sweet." he smiles, thinking he's found footing in the situation and a way to gain control of it.

"Ah don't talk to me about Marcela now." He stands up, annoyed. "Lets not talk about that woman. Let's change topic, yeah? Last night." He slaps the chair. "When I got to my apartment she was waiting for me." He says so annoyed, again.

"No?" Mario asks "surprised".

Skip the scene with Marcela and Patsy Pats; Betty and Aura Maria are still talking in her office.

Aura Maria is telling her that now that they've slept together that she can't stop doing it and blah blah blah I'm only mentioning it because it's funny when Armando walks into the conversation and now it's him he gets a taste of jealousy like Betty did that morning when she saw Armando and Marcela getting out of his car.

The fact Armando believes this is really about Nicolas is funny but also believable. For one, as I pointed out, Armando feels insecure when it comes to Betty and Nicolas, especially now after they've sinned, fornicated if you will, no wait adulatory because he's "committed" to Marcela. Two because he knows that Nicolas spends time with Betty at her house so when Aura Maria tells her to take advantage of the moments her parents aren't looking or when he goes to the bathroom to sneak in there with him and y'know, sha-bang.

Armando rubs his hand with his thumb, indicating anxiety, however he tries to keep his composure and if y'all haven't notice Armando now isn't speaking so harshly to Betty. He is keeping the same tone he has with her whenever he is being vulnerable. As Armando leaves Betty's office after telling her that he needed some paper work, he shuts the door hard, expressing his anger as well.

Once Aura leaves and Betty goes into Armando's office, Armando throws his jealousy fit, but unlike before when he'd yell at her and question her dedication, her loyalty, her love, this time he tells her that she can do what she wants, that Nicolas belonged to her personal and intimate life(again, showing resentment for that), when Betty tries to explain what happened Armando tries to cut her off, eventually she does though. This is similar to earlier that morning.

We then see the power dynamic here, once more Armando is the one that holds the cards and Betty is supposed to do what he says, which isn't a partnership.

[THE LETTER! WHAT WAS IN THE STUPID LETTER BETTY!]

I think those the next scenes[next few episodes] are pretty self-explanatory. Armando completely forgets about the picture he has of AA in his pocket and he makes out with Betty and Betty accepts to not break up while Armando that once the big meeting is over that he'll break up with Marcela and they'll become official, now he has to learn to accept the idea that he has to learn to accept as an idea(So confusing, I know lol) of a potential future where he is open about his relationship with Betty.

The next post I'll write is one I'm really looking forward to; AA shows up to Eco Moda and my all time favorite scene that brings and ties together this theory that Armando has thought about, for a long time, about his feelings for Betty and what it means to him, AKA the night of the museum.

'Til then :)

#armando ysblf #analysis of ysblf #don armando #armando mendoza #beatriz pinzon solano #betty ysblf #betty pinzón solano #yo soy betty la fea #beatriz pinzón solano #betty la fea #betty #marcela ysblf #marcela valencia #morch #mario calderón #mario calderon #nicolas mora

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multimetaverse · 3 years

Text

HSMTMTS 2x12 Review

Second Chances was a lacklustre finale for an uneven season. Let’s dig in!

Earlier this week I re-watched S1 in preparation for the S2 finale and the contrast between the two seasons is jarring. In almost every way S2 has been worse and after seeing this finale I’m less optimistic that Tim will be able to fix the long list of things that have gone wrong. Tim has said in some of his interviews today that pretty much all of S2 was written before the pandemic and that they didn’t have to do as much re-writing as people might think due to the stringent safety measures Disney put in place. Of course, that removes an excuse for the bad writing we’ve seen so much of this season as according to Tim what we saw of S2 is largely what he envisioned minus big crowds and background dancers.

Across his many interviews today, the one consistent point is that Tim does not have any real plans for future seasons; things like Ricky’s endgame he hasn’t decided on and he can’t even guarantee the summer season the finale sets up due to the weather in Salt Lake. I do think a S3 is an almost certainty given the show’s popularity but I’ll take Tim at his word that he truly doesn’t know if they’ll be renewed since it seems to be a new Disney tradition to wait until seasons are done airing before making a renewal decision (the same thing happened for the popular and well received Mighty Ducks: Game Changers which got a silent renewal only after all of S1 aired). That being said as poor of a season finale as Second Chances is it is also a terrible potential series finale. In large part it goes back to his lack of planning, he wants to keep all options open but in doing so Tim is crippling the show’s ability to deliver any pay offs or tie up loose ends.

The one mostly well done plot line this season was Portwell which got a happy ending tonight as they canoned. The only good thing about the big brother angst was that it was so insane that it had to be addressed and sure enough it was and Gina got her first kiss with a guy she really liked. If Tim is to be believed the reason we didn’t get an on screen Portwell kiss was not because of their age difference or covid concerns but because he felt that everyone’s first kiss was different so he wanted it off screen so viewers could fill in the blanks themselves. Tim’s line of reasoning is profoundly stupid. Imagine if they had Jamie show up and he and Gina talked off screen and Tim tried to claim that because everyone has a different relationship with their own siblings that he wanted the audience to fill in the blanks as to how their conversation went!

Still we saw great character development on Gina and EJ’s part as both really grew from the people they were in S1. As Tim noted, EJ bringing Gina back in 1x10 was kind of the set up for this story line. The only thing missing was a brief Portwell scene sometime in eps 2x01-2x04 to set them up. The consistent development they got from 2x05-2x12 is unlike any other ship on the show; only Rini exceeds their development.

Unfortunately I don’t think that will last in S3 because Tim will always favour Ricky over EJ and if he wants to do Rina he’ll dispose of Portwell before doing so. I was surprised that they never bothered to have Ricky and Gina have a conversation about Gina’s S1 confession. It was a huge mistake to have Gina pine over Ricky for half the season and it was no surprise that Gina’s story line got instantly better once she stopped interacting with Ricky. Tim has made clear in interviews that he’s still interested in the possibility of Rina which makes his poor writing of them even more bizarre. What conclusions are the audience supposed to draw from the Rina story line this season? That Ricky never cared that much about Gina? That it’s totally fine for the show if they don’t interact for 6 eps in a row? That Gina has moved on? I’ve said before that a wiser man than Tim would recognize that doing both Portwell and Rina will do tremendous damage to the show and he should pick one and not do the other. Of course he’s not that smart but it is wild how he’s accidentally written their story line to make for a perfect end to Rina.

Second Chances was great and is the only part of the finale that would have been well suited to being part of a potential series finale.

The Rini closure was a sad inverse of their S1 opening night confession. They’ve fallen so far from being the it couple of the series and I fear Tim doesn’t actually know what to do with them now. He really needs to decide if he’s tearing down that treehouse for real.

The less said about the Valentine’s chocolates the better but at least Gina and Nini are cool again and Nini can explore her budding music career with Jamie’s help. Tim repeatedly said in interviews that the scripts about Nini’s music career were all written before Driver’s License came out and I think he understands that the audience is just going to see the show as copying from Olivia’s life.

The wildcats just deciding to drop out of the Menkies was a lame cop out. Tim has said he always meant for that to happen though they were originally going to compete at the Menkies then drop out (presumably that’s where we would have heard Lily singing Home). Somebody should have mentioned the $50 000 prize money which the East High theatre department could surely use after Miss Jenn and Mr. Mazzara burned it down (remember that story line that had no consequences?). And that NYU scholarship could have been life changing for one of them and yet no one even brought it up once this season.

I did like the twist that it was EJ and his dad who got Mazzara into Caltech. He’d be a fool not to take it but I’m glad he confessed to Miss Jenn. She’s had a really rough season and I hope she redeems herself in S3.

Howie was acting so weird tonight and last ep that I have a hard time believing he was really so awed by Kourtney’s talent rather than feeling guilty for helping to steal the harness. The harness is another useless plot device; there are no consequences for Lily stealing it, she’s not caught, East High pulls off another version of the transformation off screen, and then East High withdraws from the Menkies anyways. Doubtless the harness will eventually come up to serve Rily angst.

At least Lily was straightforward, I’ll give her that. She has such an odd way of speaking, almost child like. As awful as it is there is potential for a forbidden/secret romance story line with Rily. It really does not speak well to Ricky’s character that he’s so easily fallen for Lily’s act when he has no reason to trust her and she never apologized for making fun of Big Red during the auditions or making Ashlyn feel insecure during the dance off.

The one way in which S2 was drastically better to S1 was in regards to the Seblos story line. Clearly Joe being bumped up to regular made a big difference. We got the first same-sex kiss between two boys and the first love song sung by one boy to another in Disney history and that is a legacy to be proud of. Of course, there was still some Disney censorship such as Carlos and Seblos being unable to use the word gay in the same ep that focused on Carlos singing In a Heartbeat to Seb.

S1 of HSMTMTS had a clear direction, the wildcats would have to try and come together to stage High School Musical and Ricky and Nini would have to decide if they still had a future together while Gina and EJ had to work on being better versions of themselves. It was simple sure but it worked very well. There was a lot of heart but also a lot of humor and the show never took itself too seriously. What has S2 had? Beauty and the Beast was hardly the main focus of the cast or the writers and the central couple that S1 was built around is now broken up either for a long time or for good. There was a lot less of the meta moments that jokes that made S1 such a hit, for far too many eps this season the show took itself way too seriously. Hell even the lighting this season was darker than in S1.

Olivia Rodrigo’s team had complained in a recent article that Olivia wouldn’t be able to potentially tour until fall 2022 due to her contractual commitments which is a sign that they think a S3 is very likely though I wonder how late S3 filming would have to start to keep her occupied until late 2022. There’s no confirmation of this but I thought it might be worth keeping an eye on; a post on r/hsmtmts by someone who claims to have a source working on production says that the plan is for S3 to be a summer theatre camp possibly with Camp Rock renditions and the plan for S4 is to jump 6 months ahead to the final semester of senior year and end with Ricky, Nini, Big Red, and Kourtney graduating from East High. They also say that part of the delay in the S3 announcement is a conflict between Tim and Disney executives. Tim wants to move production to LA and film on sets as it’s easier and cheaper while the Disney execs still want some on location shooting in Salt Lake. Again this is all unconfirmed but if it pans out it will represent a major shift in the series.

Regardless if Tim wants the show to remain successful he needs start planning out what he wants to happen. He should not assume he’s getting more than 4 seasons. If the series gets a S3 but then is suddenly cancelled then how would he want all the main story lines to wrap up? And if they make it to S4 where does he see it ending? The graduation of the current juniors is a logical series ending point but if Tim wants to do something different he needs to start thinking of that now. I can’t say I’m excited anymore for S3 but I do really hope that Tim and his writers can turn things around and that will only happen if they recognize what they did wrong and learn from their mistakes.

Until next season Wildcats

#HSMTMTS #Portwell #Rini #Gina Porter #EJ Caswell #Ricky Bowen #Nini Salazar-Roberts #Kourtney Greene #lily #HSMTMTS Reviews

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ratsoh-writes · 4 years

Text

So I’m screwing around and I suddenly remember that the hunger games simulator exists! Well guess who put all the boys in it ;). My money is on either sugar or honey. It’s always the shy ones.

Day 1

Alright so far the cornucopia is full of cowards. Not a single death and everyone is just running for thier lives. Although sans, papyrus and star did team up which was pretty cool.

FKN PEACHES KILLED OAK IN HIS SLEEP?!!? peaches how could you 😭😭

Also I love how willow, edge, mutt and papyrus band together to steal all of ranchers stuff

Looks like oak is the only casualty. Poor baby. Looks like his narcolepsy did him in

Day 2

WILLOW CRIES HIMSELF TO SLEEP. Looks like someone found his brother

Also mutt decided to go for the baddest mafia man and kills butch but leaves heavily injured. I’m not suprised mutt went for him tbh

Friggin peaches is on a massacre. He teamed up with mal to kill off papyrus this time.

Also sans and Jupiter are holding hands and sugar convinced snipe to cuddle with him lol. Sugar must’ve had his charm turned up to 100

Hold up, cash made a bomb and killed willow sansn and coffee. Holy heck. Dammit cash.

And rancher is playing mind games here. He’s trying to force slim to kill either noir or gaster. Of course slim doesn’t want to kill anyone, SO RANCHER KILLS HIM IN COLD BLOOD what is with these farm boys?!??

So that’s 7 deaths: G, butch, papyrus, willow, sans, coffee and slim :(

Day 3

Oh shoot guys, somebody gave peaches a bomb. Better run

Also snipe killed mal with a hatchet. Tbh I’m not suprised.

And wine set LORD on fire?!?? WINE NO THATS YOUR BEST FRIEND why wine whyyyy

Basil repeatedly stabbed pop to death and probably puked right after

And cash you dumb*ss. He fell in a hole. The ultimate prankster dies from a hole. This is not the swapfell bros day

Now basil is questioning his sanity gee I wonder why

Honey accidentally set off a bomb. If anyone was wondering, he failed chemistry

And uh, so bruiser and wine are patching each other up. I guess in the hunger games your enemy is your friend lol

Total deaths 7: mal, lord, pop, edge, mutt, cash and honey

Day 4

Oh look at that, Star stabbed red this time like the little psycho he is

Green over here just humming out some tunes as the world burns around him

Basil and peaches are calling a truce. It’s because they can see the murder in each other’s eyes

And then basil dies from the cold like a pussy.

Oop, looks like peaches carnage is over. Wine pushed him off a cliff. Now wine is the baddest boy

Total deaths 3: red, basil, peaches

Day 5

Noooooo. So sugar was picking a fight with Jupiter, and friggin ace swoops in and is all “THATS MY ENEMY B*TCH” and beheads sugar.

Boss singing himself to sleep 🥺

Wine is climbing trees while he plans everyone’s murders

Wine is going even higher. He’s heading for the sky baby. He’s going to steamroll his way into heaven.

Oh shoot, three way fight between star snipe and rust. Rust won.

And rythm took out bad dad gaster in the most bad*ss way. Death by gladiator sword

Total deaths 4: sugar, star, snipe, gaster

Day 6

Noir over worked himself and passed out again. This is like the third time noir calm down

Fkn wine takes out rancher and Jupiter at the same time. He literally got both farmtale brothers. Gotta catch them all

Shoot, we just lost another mafia boy. Lilac strangled boss.

And now the feast: bruiser lilac and ace vs green Pluto and wine. Unfortunately wines geek squad was unable to stand up the the mafia brothers and a feral lilac so they had to go.

Also charm must’ve pissed rythm off because he couldn’t convince him to not kill him lol

Ace be picking flowers after his massacre

And rythm drowns. Oops

That’s 8 deaths this time: rancher, Jupiter, boss, green, Pluto, wine, charm and rhythm

Day 7

Yup, ace nailed noir right in the stomach. I knew noir wouldn’t make it. His chronic pain is too much of a hindrance

Just noir dying this time

Day 8

BRUISER KILLED ACE??!? And friggin rust climbed up a tree and watched like a little creep

And lilac decided to be a genius and jump in a frozen lake. Play stupid games win stupid prizes

2 deaths: ace and lilac

Day 9

alright this is it the final showdown. Who will win?? We’ve got:

Rust: with incredible physical strength, size and wilderness survival on his side

Bruiser: a trained mafia fighter, extensive experience and knowledge in weapons, and his only strategy is to fight dirty

............... and despite all that bruiser takes the same path as his moron best friend and falls into a hole

Rust wins by default lol

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laurensprentiss · 4 years

Text

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 7:

Warnings: Panic attacks, anxiety, lots of angst. Emily Prentiss’ cameo! Will reader ever catch a break? Doutbful.

Word Count: 3,842 (It’s a long but a good’un)

———

Perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition.” - James Baldwin

———

You’ve been operating on autopilot since that day. For around a week and a half now, you work from home, run your errands, come home and find yourself staring into nothing, sitting in your apartment alone. You’ve been dodging calls from Hotch, your dad, Emily and now your ex, too, since he’d been back in town.

You’d stormed out of the building that day on wobbly legs, willing yourself not to buckle or fall on the floor, your breath shaky and shallow. You’d somehow managed to keep your composure in the cab home, staring out of the window, your brain feeling like static, incomprehensible, confusing and far too busy.

You were surprised though, at your outward composure, surprised that you hadn’t even felt the need to cry, not even so much as a lump in your throat anymore. The adrenaline had seemed to be wearing off on the journey home, you’d even give a weary smile to the cab driver as you got out of the car. But you’d been so preoccupied with your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed the same black sedan from earlier that day, tailing your cab again.

Once you’d finally keyed your door closed, though - you’d sunk to the cold tile of your apartment floor and let the shame and embarrassment of your naivety wash over you, cursing yourself repeatedly, sick with rage. Not rage towards Hotch, or McCall. Rage towards yourself. Furious that you’d even let yourself entertain any sort of delusion about Hotch, that you’d even allowed a flutter of hope to bloom in your chest.

Mortified that he’d been actively avoiding you while you’d been waiting for the phone to ring, like some desperate, naive little girl.

You’d cried then, which had only infuriated you more. What did you have to cry about? He didn’t owe you anything. He had a job, and he was doing it well, considering he’d been the one to draw up the profile. He had a whole life, a past with Haley, and most likely, a future with her, too.

You’d heard a knock on the door behind you that had startled you in the midst of the tears streaming down your cheeks. You’d heard Hotch’s voice call your name from behind the door and you’d had to fight to not gasp or cry even more as he’d called out to you.

“Please. Just let me in. Please just let me explain myself.” He’d pleaded. He didn’t quite understand what he would say even if you did open the door, but the desperation he felt to see you, to just say something that wasn’t met with anger by you, far outweighed any rational thought he could muster right now.

You’d clasped both hands over your mouth and brought your knees to your chest to stop any sound from escaping, willing yourself to hold your ground just this once. To pull back some respect for yourself, to try and grasp at anything that would let you feel like you were on even footing again.

“Please? I can hear you in there, you can yell at me, hit me, scream at me, just please let me say what I need to say to you!” You’d just held your breath and focused on the rise and fall of your chest to keep yourself grounded, your eyes closed.

No.

You’d heard some shuffling and muffled voices through the door, Agent McCall’s voice familiar to you at this point. You’d listened hard as you’d heard him tell Hotch to leave.

“Ben-”

“Now.” His voice was stern. “Go talk to Barnes. I’ll handle things here.”

He’d hesitated for a moment against the door before he’d finally left, his body weighed down with the immense guilt, his stomach like concrete.

This wasn’t going to go away.

Once you were sure he’d left, you’d gathered yourself up off the floor and splashed some water on your face, willing the puffiness in your cheeks and eyes to subside. In your vulnerability, you’d felt intensely alone and mistakenly picked up the phone, needing a friend to confide in.

“Hello?”

“Jordan?”

“Yeah? Who’s this?”

“It’s me.” You could hear the gears turning in his head. You’d said your name through the phone and he chuckled.

“Hey. I wasn’t expecting your call. How’ve you been?”

“Can you come over?” You’d said abruptly.

He paused. There was no answer for a while and you’d had to look at the phone, to double-check it hadn’t been disconnected.

“Hello?”

“I- yeah. I’m on my way. See you soon, babe.” You’d shuddered slightly at his pet name for you, you never had liked it when you were together and it had felt even stranger now. But you needed someone to help you through this, and he was nothing if not familiar, even if you hadn’t worked out the first time.

Unbeknownst to you, though. Hotch had stayed parked across the road and had seen Jordan enter your apartment building around thirty minutes later. He’d frowned and leaned across the console to watch the figure walk into the lobby right as he’d seen your apartment lights turn on. He’d turned his attention to your apartment window then, as you’d drawn your curtains, the sight of you making his breath catch. He’d gripped the steering wheel tight as he’d maneuvered himself to desperately get a better view of you, only to see Jordan behind you as you’d pulled the fabric closed, his heart dropping and a lump forming in his throat.

He’d never even had you, but he’d lost you.

———

You give yourself a once over in the mirror again , dusting off some lint that isn’t really there off of your dress, turning to make sure that it fits right. Taking a couple of deep breaths, you step out of your bedroom.

“Ready, ma’am?” Agent McCall asks.

You simply nod and grab your purse as Agent McCall leads the way out of the door, confirming the address of the bistro over his earpiece. You have a strange knot in your stomach, the kind that develops when you have to see an old friend who you’ve lost touch with. The kind that develops when you have a psycho stalker and you’re estranged and furious at the one person who’d slowly become your comfort.

You’d decided that you had to try to make an attempt, a real effort to keep the small number of friends you did have, finally taking Emily’s calls and even proposing lunch. She’d responded excited, and had taken care of the reservations for you, said it’d be her treat.

You glance up towards agent McCall, a question bubbling up in your chest, but you lose your nerve at the last minute. He spots you from the corner of his eye but doesn’t attempt to respond or invite further questions, simply setting the SUV into drive and taking off. You bite the inside of your cheek, repeatedly looking at your watch, your index finger scratching divots into the side of your thumb. As you pull up to the restaurant, you spot two undercovers on either side of the block. MPD, you deduce.

Agent McCall opens your door for you, confirming something on his earpiece as he escorts you out. “I’ll be waiting right here, Agent Hotchner will be here soon to relieve me, so he’ll be escorting you back, ma’am.” He rattles it off like a rehearsed speech, but there’s a hint of levity in his voice.

Your head whips towards his direction. “Hotchner? No, he’s not on my detail anymore.” You quip back, the panic and excitement making for a strange cocktail.

“As of this morning, he is.” He ducks his head. “I’m sorry, I know what happened and I completely respect that, but the Ambassador made the decision and Barnes agrees. I’m sorry ma’am.”

Your chest flutters slightly at that, futile excitement, dread and anxiety spreading to your bones at the thought of seeing Hotch for the first time in so long. You huff and take his hand.

“We’re not done with this.” You mutter to him.

You turn to find Emily’s dark eyes watching you from the outdoor seating area of the restaurant as you cross the road, squinting slightly as if to see if it’s really you. When you laugh, she immediately sets her napkin down on the table, and shouts your name, her arms outstretched almost immediately, her face breaking out into a grin.

Oh Emily.

You close the gap between you, taking quick little steps in an awkward kind of run, as you meet her hug, her body almost crushing you. Air leaves your chest in a whoosh as you both laugh, rocking slightly to catch your balance. She rubs your arms up and down when she finally releases you, leading the way to your table. “Oh! It’s so good to see you!” She breathes.

You immediately relax, the dread and nervousness washing away. No matter how long it goes between visits with Emily, you could probably always count on the fact that you’d pick up right where you left off. You felt almost silly now for even thinking it’d be any different. The stress of the past month melts away and you finally feel at ease for the first time in a long time.

“It’s good to see you too!” You laugh, sitting back. You chance a quick glance over the SUV, but you give yourself away. Emily follows your eyes and spots Agent McCall parked on the other side of the road, watching you.

“Hey. What’s with the goon squad?” She points her head to the left to point to McCall, glaringly obvious that he’s there to watch you. “I spotted two UC’s a block away too.” She questions.

You sigh. It’s not really a question you can avoid, besides, she’s a close friend and confidante. And she’s so sharp, always aware of her surroundings - almost unsettlingly so. But if anybody could relate, it would be her. You briefly explain that somebody had been leaving you notes and gifts for a while which is why-

“You didn’t go to college this year - that’s right.” She nods, finishing your sentence for you. She winces slightly with sympathy as the pieces fall into place for her. She shakes her head in disbelief. “I- how long?” She asks. Her eyebrows are pulled together, her brown eyes wide and vulnerable.

“Since last summer. Dad had some old friends with the FBI so they're my security until we catch him, I guess.” You pick at a hangnail, the reality of the situation making your heart sink more every day.

“I'm sorry.” She exhales. “First a breakup, then your father’s whole heart scare, and then this?”

You look up at her. “How did you know about Dad?”

“Ambassador Prentiss.” She laments, sarcastically.

“Ah.”

“Mother had her aide get in touch when she didn’t hear back from your father.” Her voice softens as she reaches her hand across the table to stop you from ripping the skin straight off your finger. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I may not have been much help, but I’m always here to listen. You gotta reach out more.”

A lump forms in your throat as you come to the crushing realisation that you didn’t really have many friends at all, no real friends of substance that you could really confide in, anyway . Sure, you had society friends, acquaintances, the children of other DC officials but your heart sinks. You have nobody except your father and Emily - and your father, well. He wouldn’t be around forever.

You squeeze her hand back and thank her, retreating back to your lap and scratching your thumb again, toying with the skin. Her eyebrows quirk as she watches you, aware of your nervous tics.

“What is it?”

You snap your head up. “Hm? What? Oh- nothing.”

“Don’t even. I know when you’re lying. What is it?” Her eyebrows raise, the way they do when she challenges someone. She did always have the uncanny ability to see right through people.

You sigh. “Fine. It’s about the breakup.” She slumps back in her seat and rolls her eyes, her head shaking.

“You did not. Tell me you didn’t.”

“Don’t kill me. But, around two weeks ago, I kinda slept with Jordan.” You wince.

She inhales sharply through her teeth, shaking her head. “Come on. I thought you knew better! Why would you do that? He’s nothing but trouble.”

“I. I don’t know, it’s a long story. I haven’t seen him since, though.” You try to justify to her with a laugh, throwing your hands up in defence. “He keeps trying to call, but I just let it go to voicemail. If anything, I remembered why we didn’t work the first time around.”

“Uh huh.” She raises her eyebrows and huffs out a laugh. “Good. He gives the creeps.” She mutters.

You let out a laugh then, a real laugh and you can’t remember the last time you felt this light. You think for a split second about how you did feel this light and happy around Hotch despite the impending danger, but you erase the thought from your mind quickly, refusing to allow yourself to go down that road again.

The mere split second thought makes your chest drop, though - another wave of sadness washing over you just as quickly, and it’s only exacerbated by the fact that you’re going to have to face him soon. Your emotions seemingly do a rapid 180.

You feel grateful to be here with Emily, with someone to talk to, but the hole that you’d tried to fill with Jordan a week ago had only left you feeling more empty and dissatisfied with your life. You’d asked him to go home later that night, unable to look at him, or yourself. All you could think about was how Hotch was probably happy, living in domesticity with his first love and you were spending the night alone - again, while someone out there probably wanted you dead.

You flash Emily a quick smile and excuse yourself to the ladies’ room as she carefully watches you enter the restaurant. Once inside you try your best to hold in the tears, the harsh lighting oddly illuminating the top of your face, washing you out. You grip the edges of the cool sink, trying to even your breathing but the tears come as though they have a life of their own, falling down your cheek.

Your eyes sting and your chest burns as you finally let yourself cry again, you feel it long overdue, the loneliness, the isolation, the danger. All of it rearing its ugly head. You try to stifle the sobs from your chest, desperate whimpers escaping from your throat as it gets harder and harder to breathe.

A door handle turning suddenly startles you, making you jump. You clear your throat, your voice coming nasally. “Occupied.”

Loud knocks come this time, making rapid contact with the wood on the other side. “I said it’s occupied!” You call out, louder this time.

It’s silent for a moment before loud thumps and grunts come from the other side, as your heart drops, your knees weak. Your wide eyes dart around the bathroom when the door starts to heave, the hinges rattling as the person on the other side attempts to break it down.

You back away with shaky legs, trying to get as far away from the door as possible. You don’t even realise when you start screaming for help, the noise in the bathroom rising, suffocating you. A high pitched whine penetrates your skull, your hands and face sweaty, heart thrumming as you shake. Your vision tunnels and you feel nausea rising in your stomach.

The thumping suddenly subsides, a breathy laugh coming from the other side, as you fall to the floor, the cold hard tile against the back of your thighs. You find it hard to breathe, your vision is clouded by black spots, and you realise you’re still calling out for help, your voice screeching.

“Ma’am?” A young woman’s voice comes from the other side. “Ma’am are you in there?” She asks, panic rising in her voice.

You hear Hotch’s voice on the other side, speaking to the woman, followed by the sound of keys. Relief washes over you temporarily but you can’t bring yourself to get up or even move slightly, your body frozen. The young woman manages to open the door after shakily fumbling with the keys, Hotch brushing past her.

The sight of you on the bathroom floor, sweaty, cried out and so vulnerable does something to him he can’t quite explain. You’re curled into a ball in the corner of the bathroom under the sink, your knees against your chest, your hands clutching your head as you rock slightly. He’s furious and devastated in equal measure, doesn’t quite know how to proceed. Protocol dictates he ask you what happened, take you to a secure location, obtain evidence.

Screw protocol.

He gets down on your level, shrugs off his suit blazer and wraps it around you, not bothering to move you off the wall, the blazer covering you like a blanket. He whispers off the young employee to block off the bathroom area, his hand reaching up to push some matted hair off your face.

He doesn’t bother asking if you’re okay, the question entirely redundant if your current state is anything to go by. Figures it’s futile, patronising, even.

“Hey, it’s me. Can you hear me?” He whispers. Your eyes are still closed and you’re hyperventilating, droplets of sweat on your forehead as you rock back and forth. He hesitantly brings his other hand to your face, his thumb rubbing your cheek. “Hey.”

You hold onto his forearm. “Aaron?”

“Come here.”

You close the small amount of distance between you and lean forward to throw yourself into his arms, hanging onto his shoulder as sobs wrack your body. His arms awkwardly wrap around you, his blazer and your legs in the way, but he holds you close nonetheless, his hand running up and down your back as he shushes you. He remembers reading once, that even pressure around the ribs can help with nervous system dysregulation so he squeezes tight, whispering encouragement into your ear.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re okay. I got you. Breathe with me.” He doesn’t let go as he breathes exaggeratedly, wanting you to take his lead. His presence allows you to find a tandem with the rise and fall of his chest while he rubs smooth lines up and down your back. “That’s good, you’re doing really good, sweetheart.”

He has a lump forming in his throat and rage bubbling in his chest. He thanks God that he’d arrived here just in time and made the decision to run into the restaurant to speak to you when he did. He’d heard the sound of you screaming from the back of the restaurant right as he was about to ask the waitress if she’d seen you, and saw red as he’d sprinted through the booths and tables to get to you.

He was going to kill this son of a bitch.

You fall limp in his arms as your breathing regulates, your chest and the back of your throat aching like you just ran a marathon - your head feels like a brick. You let your eyes flutter closed and bury your face into the crook of Hotch’s neck, inhaling his scent. You remember back to the day you first met, almost four months ago now, the cold Virgina air, the rain, the way he’d given you his blazer - your body relaxes slightly.

The noise of the hustle and bustle outside the bathroom area starts to become louder as you finally start feeling present again, feeling returning to your hands and feet.

You hear a familiar voice right outside. “You need to let me in, it’s my friend in there.” You blink your eyes open.

Ma’am. It’s a crime scene, I’m afraid you can’t go in there.” A stern voice replies.

“What? A- a crime scene? Let me through.” She says defiantly.

Emily.

You hear a commotion and footsteps approaching, a shadow getting bigger as you release yourself from Hotch’s arms, using the back of your hand to wipe your face. She appears in the doorway then, a horrified look on her face as she gasps, the waiter trailing behind her, an embarrassed look on his face.

Hotch turns to look at her and back at you, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you, concern etched on his face as you communicate wordlessly.

He raises his eyebrows.

You okay?

You nod.

Yeah.

“Honey.” She gasps. Hotch moves over to the side, standing up and offers Emily a tight smile as he brushes off his pant legs and hands. She sinks to her knees on the floor, sitting next to you, her arm around your shoulder, inviting you close to her. Her other hand rubs your thigh gently, and you lay your head on her shoulder, your hands wrapping around the one she has in your thigh and you squeeze. Her other hand gently brushes over your hair, as she inhales and exhales with you, her comforting presence something that you’d been sorely missing.

Hotch signals to excuse himself to Emily and she just nods, allowing him to leave. She doesn’t ask what happened, she doesn’t speak, she doesn’t move. Just offers herself to you as her heart breaks a little at the sight of you.

It’s around ten minutes later that Hotch returns, voices overlap through police radios as he shoos a police officer away. He crouches down to your level, a small smile on his face.

“Hey.” He rubs a hand on your shin. “We ready to go?”

You heave a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, get me the hell out of here.” You huff. You glance at Emily. “You're coming right?”

“Of course.” She whispers with a smile, her hand squeezing yours. “I’m gonna grab some stuff from my place first, okay? I can be at yours in an hour.”

You nod. Hotch holds out his hand to help you up, collecting his blazer and draping it around your shoulders, rubbing them as he does, to reassure you. He places a hand on the small of your back, nodding at the waiter as he shows the three of you out of the back exit, Emily walking behind you. Hotch’s car is parked right outside the service entrance in the back alleyway, and you smile up at him, thankful that you wouldn’t have to walk out to the front again.

“I’ll see you soon, honey.” Emily hugs you as you wrap your arms around her waist, squeezing tight. She places a protective kiss on your temple and nods at Hotch as she walks around to get her car. You watch her turn the corner and take a deep breath.

“Hey. Let’s get you home.”

———

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#aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch smut #hotch fluff #hotch #cm fanfic #cm fic #cm fic rec #criminal minds

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forgiveness-in-the-misery · 3 years

Text

Ed wasn’t completely in the wrong in season three when he accused Oswald of being selfish and never caring about anybody except for himself. Partially wrong, but he wasn’t completely wrong.

With season five Oswald confesses to Arthur as well as Ed that he has a history of using and mistreating the people in his life and it’s why he always ends up alone which is true, even in season three he realised he was using Ed as an emotional crutch after the loss of his parents.

Oswald loved his parents, but in a sense he used them too. He saw his parents as the people in his life who supported him and loved him unconditionally, his mother was there for him to feel like in some way he’s a good person. If you look at the first scene in the show between Oswald and his mom he sits in the chair as if it’s a throne while his mother kneels at his side worrying over him, he acts as if he expects this as if she’s another person working for him. His father was the same in a different way, Oswald was in a bad mind space and needed his dad to make him feel like he could be a good person, he needed that validation.

Butch was always obviously always there to work for Oswald, to be a yes man, somebody who just did what he was told. Even as friends Oswald didn’t care about Butch’s problems but always wanted Burch to listen to his.

Even with Martin Oswald used him, he loved that kid and saw him as a son, but he repeatedly used him as a spy and a pawn. Eventually that placed Martin in danger which placed Oswald in the position of facing reality of how fucked up this is and he sent Martin out of his life so he couldn’t slip back into using him.

Ed and Oswald’s relationship is complicated. Oswald in the third season and second season did use Ed, but Ed initiated it. Ed saved Oswald’s life that night in the woods and even insisted on helping him through his grief and giving him a place to hide, he was happy to help him run for mayor and he was happy to essentially do anything Oswald wanted. He literally almost died just so that Oswald could look good. In all of this Ed was a tool. We can see Oswald falling in love with him, but the way he shows his love is through elaborate means that obviously don’t speak to Ed, Ed doesn’t want gifts or grand gestures. He wants words, he wants compliments and validation which is why we see him so easily fall for both Isabella and Lee because they understand he wants to feel wanted as a person, not a tool.

For Ed the idea Oswald was in love with him seemed ridiculous and impossible because if you see it from Ed’s perspective it sort of is. Oswald doesn’t compliment him, not really, he compliments his genius and his use. Oswald falls in love with Ed’s loyalty and even when shit goes badly Oswald still treats Ed as something he in some way owns. This comes up again in season four when Oswald recruits the Riddler, he needs him to help him, and we see Riddler just like Ed willing to be horrifically tortured and killed all for Oswald. Oswald does save Riddler from being shot, but still there is an awkwardness between them, an inability for either man to actually articulate their history or their true feelings.

So finally when confronted by Mr. Penn aka Ed 2.0 when Oswald comes clean about his issues, that he truly doesn’t know how to just care for people or treat them the way they deserve to be treated we see Ed shocked and in some way hurt. He’s finally realized that Oswald never meant harm towards him and didn’t mean to use him as a tool time and time again, he does genuinely care for him and love him, it’s just that he’s also a broken person with an inability to properly express himself to those he cares for.

#gotham #nygmobblepot #edward nygma #oswald cobblepot

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littlerockerao3 · 3 years

Note

103 please 💙

I finally did it anon, I hope you like it!

Also, sorry if the ending kinda sucks I just god sad all of sudden and… yeah.

Btw, this is basically a compilation of Theon stealing Robb’s stuff

103. “Sharing is caring, now give me your fries”

Tw: mentions of sex and they’re naked at some point. Then it’s all just fluff.

~~~

Robb’s so used to staying the night at Theon’s sometimes he gets confused when he wakes up alone at his own place. Today though, it’s not one of those mornings.

It’s late in the morning and he’s cooking eggs, in his boyfriend kitchen, when Theon comes join him.

“Is that my hoodie?” Robb asks. The white hoodie with a small wolf print on the left shoulder is the first things he sees after Theon’s messy hair.

Theon yawns loudly and shrugs, “I don’t know, could be. Let me check…” he stretches his arms above his head and the hoodie goes up and exposes his bare belly. Theon nods at that, “Definitely”.

That’s the thing when Theon steals Robb’s clothes, they always look too loose around his shoulders yet they’re too short to fully cover his belly when he’s stretching. Robb kind of loves how that makes him look younger than his age. It also makes his features look softer, and when his hair is all messy like that... god, all Robb wants is to cuddle with him on the couch all day long.

“You thief” he says instead, sticking his tongue out at him.

Theon just rolls his eyes, slips his hands inside the hoodie’s front pockets and presses a kiss to the corner of Robb’s lip, “It just smells so much like you, I love it”.

Robb snorts, amused. “Babe. You wear my clothes more than I do, they basically smell like you by now”.

He’s not wrong, and Robb knows Theon knows. Robb’s closet at his apartment is almost empty, by now, it’s all in Theon’s closet and drawers. Sometimes he wonders how come he hasn’t moved in with him already.

“Hey, sharing is caring” Theon replies, taking one hand out of his pockets to pinch Robb’s side. Robb swats that hand away and rolls his eyes, “It is, it is.”

“You made breakfast?”

“Will be ready in five, can you set the table?”

Robb checks on the eggs, and when he turns back around to stare at Theon, he’s caught up in a proper kiss. It doesn’t last as long as he expected nor as they both wanted, but they know there’s going to be time for it later. It’s Sunday, after all.

“Sure gorgeous” Theon caresses his cheek, then moves to grab the plates from the cupboard and all they need. Robb’s hoodie goes up one more time, and it’s leaving Theon’s lower back exposed. Robb smirks, stare at those cute little dimples right above Theon’s glutes, and thinks that that hoodie is going to come off in a little.

Theon parts from Robb’s lips after the umpteenth overly dramatic howl coming from downstairs, “Why the hell is he howling like that?!”

Robb snorts, rests his head on the pillow, his breath struggling to go back to normal. He looks up at Theon, who’s still over him, hands still resting on Robb’s bare and sweaty chest.

“I think I forgot to fill up his water bowl” he says, his voice muffled by another ark and dramatic howl. Theon rolls his eyes, “Jeez, that’s a husky not a wolf”.

That could be: Robb found Grey Wind and his siblings in some alley, he just knows his mom was a wolf. His dad could have been a husky, cause Grey Wind is by far the most dramatic animal Robb has ever had to deal with.

Theon jumps out the bed, Robb already misses his warmth, and walks towards the door.

“Hey, don’t walk naked past him” Robb says, fixing the pillow under his head and running a had through his sweaty hair.

Theon huffs loudly, “God, he walks naked past me everyday Robb”, he says, yet still turns around and opens the nightstand’s drawer and grabs a pair of underwear.

“Hey that’s my underwear” Robb realizes.

“It’s the first pair I found” Theon rolls his eyes, as he puts the red underwear Robb’s mother got for him a few months ago, along with tons of more stuff, when Robb finally got his own place.

“It’s still mine” he mumbles.

Theon sighs, hands resting on his hips, eyes frowning in his typical “don’t start” stare. “For fuck’s sake Robb, it’s your house don’t you remember? Of course it’s your stuff.”

Robb shrugs, thinking about how actually his own place is filled with Theon’s stuff, and how Theon’s place is filled with Robb’s stuff.

“But there’s plenty of your stuff too here” he says, in fact.

That causes Theon’s upper lip to curl up lightly: Robb’s noticed how much he likes when somebody points out things like this. He just loves to know his stuff is at Robb’s place and Robb’s stuff is at his place, Robb guesses. That’s fair. Robb likes it too, though he doesn’t show it so much: it’s not like he wears Theon’s clothes everyday, unlike Theon does with his clothes, instead.

Theon puts one knee on the bed and arches forward to kiss Robb’s still puffy lips “Just grab one of mine so we’re even. And sharing is caring, by the way.”

He’s about to kiss him one more time, suggesting a round two would be very much appreciated, but Grey Wind starts barking and howling again.

Theon grunts almost as loudly at the dogs, only to yell right after, “I’m coming you dipshit, calm down!”

“Hey! Do not call our child that!”

“Fuck you”

One of Robb’s eyebrows rises as he stares at his boyfriend making his way downstairs to finally give his dog some water. Jeez, Theon looks good in Robb’s underwear.

Theon is still buckling his belt as he walks out the bathroom and past the corridor to approach Robb, who’s waiting at the door, “Hey I’m ready, we can go”.

Robb studies his boyfriend for a few seconds, before asking, “You don’t have a bag or what?”

They’re going to spend the night at Robb’s, cause Grey Wind is staying at Sansa’s (she talked about some dog resort and apparently she wants to take Lady there but wants to bring Grey Wind along “just in case Lady won’t make any friends”, and then they say Robb’s the dog mom) and it would be very nice to have sex in Robb’s bed for once, without Grey Wind scratching the door and barking, disappointed for being left out.

Theon just shrugs carelessly, “Nah I’ll just steal your clothes”.

Typical. Robb should have expected that. He rolls his eyes, ad wraps an arm around him, whispering, “The thing is, sweet boyfriend of mine, that all my stuff is at your place, cause in case you haven’t noticed, you keep stealing it.” He kisses his forehead, “There’s literally no more clothes at my place”.

He can see Theon struggling to hide a smirk, as a cute shade of red starts blushing his cheeks as he looks away and mumbles, “I don’t steal your clothes that often”.

Robb’s eyebrow jerks up in front of the biggest bullshit he’s ever heard, “You do”.

“No I don’t”

“You don’t?” Robb pulls the corner of Theon’s shirt, “You’re wearing my hockey jersey. There’s my name in the back, since when your last name is Stark huh?”

Theon’s cheeks are bright red now. It takes him the hardest effort to go back looking into Robb’s eyes and say, softly “Hey, sharing is caring”.

The sound that comes out of Robb’s mouth is more of a snort rather than a laugh, but he can’t keep the smile off his face, “You keep using that as an excuse”.

“Because it’s true!” Theon’s hands gently cup Robb’s neck, thumbs caressing his jaw.

Robb pulls him closer and tilts his head on one side, “It still doesn’t give you the right to steal all my clothes! Literally, my house is empty”.

He doesn’t mind, really. He doesn’t mind. If it was up to him, Theon would have moved in at his place already. If it was up to him, Theon’s last name would have been Stark ages ago, by now. He likes it when Theon wears his clothes, when he uses his stuff, when he acts like Robb’s stuff is his stuff cause that’s actually how it really is, after all. But he likes it even more when Theon blushes when someone points it out.

“I don’t see what’s the problem, we can just stay here, order Chinese and watch a movie” Theon suggests. Robb just stays silent, but keeps his eyes curiously staring at Theon’s, just to make him blush some more.

“Come on babe!” Theon exclaims, then he just jumps into Robb’s arms so suddenly that Robb can barely wrap his arms around his thigh to keep them both from falling.

“I hate you so much” he mumbles, giving in, as Theon smooches his face with kisses.

“So do I baby” he whispers to his ear, as Robb leads them both towards the couch.

When Theon opens the door for Robb to get inside he’s shirtless, his face is green and his hair is wrapped in a towel. Robb frowns, recognising the familiar smell.

“Is that my beauty face mask?” He asks.

Theon starts walking to the living room, “Yeah? Before you say anything: you left it here at my place for days, I’m allowed to use it”.

Robb waves his hand distractedly: he hasn’t seen Theon for three days, fuck work and fuck how tiring it is, and he doesn’t have the patience he usually has to tease him. He needs to kiss those lips a little, first.

“Wash it off, I need to kiss you” he says.

“Needy” Theon is smirking as he’s walking to the bathroom. Robb would like to take him seriously but it’s impossible when he looks like that. Actually, it’s impossible to take Theon seriously when he’s smirking. Actually, it’s impossible to listen to whatever Theon’s saying when he’s smirking cause you just can’t keep your eyes and focus anywhere but on those lips.

He comes back a few moments later, face all clean now and hair still a little wet but naturally wavy and naturally sexy. Robb engulfs him in a hug so tight he fear he could break some of his bones, he looses his grip just so that he can start kissing his mouth repeatedly before they eventually share one long proper kiss. They’re both smiling into the kiss cause they both know they’re thinking the same thing, that is: sometimes they still act like teenagers who just got together and that’s fine cause it’s funny as hell.

“Are you ready?” Robb asks Theon at some point.

Theon nods, patting his shoulder, and moving away from him to run to his bedroom, “Yeah, I just gotta put on a shirt. I think I’ll use one of yours”.

“I’m not even going to pretend to act surprised”

“Hey, sh-“

“Sharing is caring, I know I know.”

Theon comes out his room wearing Robb’s dark blue hoodie, the only oversized hoodie Robb owns (or used to own) that doesn’t expose Theon’s lower back and belly if he stretches out or leans over.

“N’aww, you’re learning” Theon says, squeezing Robb’s cheeks with his thumb and index finger.

“Let’s go.” Robb says, gently pulling Theon’s hand away from his face.

He’s driving today, so Theon takes control over the aux cord and spends all their small trip playing nostalgia songs. Robb’s new place has yet to be fully furnished, so they’re going shopping to get some knick-knacks, tablecloths, even some small plants, so the mess won’t be too huge when Grey Wind will knock them over.

When they get inside the car again, still having to decide which shop they should stop at next, Robb hears Theon’s stomach growling.

“You hungry?”

Theon keeps scrolling through his phone, searching for a new song to play, “Just a little. I could fancy a snack though.”

Robb doesn’t need to be told twice and turns to the nearest fast food on the way. Theon’s too busy figuring out which songs he wants in his new Spotify playlist to notice where they’re headed, until Robb eventually asks him what he would like to eat.

Theon looks around and his eyes lit up the moment he realizes they’re in line at the drive thru, “Aw babe, you shouldn’t have”.

“What do you want?” Robb repeats, smiling at him.

Theon waves his hand, “Just some French fries”.

They stay silent for a few minutes before they get to take their order and they’re asked if they want small, medium or large fries.

“Large” both Robb and Theon say at the same time, Robb says it out of instinct and it causes Theon to extend his hand to squeeze his cheeks one more time, “Aw you know me so well!”

Then, Theon reaches for his wallet in his pocket, “Here, I just-”

“I got it” Robb hands the cashier his card before Theon can even do anything. He hands him his fries and gets a kiss on the cheek in return, “I really don’t deserve you”.

Robb tries to ignore how his cheeks are feeling warmer, so he lightly shakes his head and says, “It’s just some fries”.

“You noticed I was hungry and you got me food. You’re adorable.”

Theon silently eats his fries. Robb stops the car near some park so they can go take a walk in the meantime. Theon is humming the song they just heard in the car, it was one hell of a catchy song and Robb would probably have it stuck in his head too, if he hadn’t just realised that maybe, just maybe, he’s hungry too.

“What?” Theon asks him the moment he catches him staring at him eating.

“Can I have one?” Robb asks.

Theon frowns and immediately shakes his head, “No way, get your own!”

That reply is so unexpected it causes Robb to chuckle against his will, “Excuse me?! I literally paid for them!”

“You could have got your own!”

Robb folds his arms against his chest, “Well sharing is caring, now give me your fries.”

Now Theon is laughing too, he grabs one of the fries and feeds it to Robb.

“God I seriously should have got my own too” he mumbles, and Theon hands him the packet of fries afterwards, “I guess we can share”.

“Thanks babe” Robb smiles, extends his hand to grab the pack and notices the small silver thing around Theon’s wrist.

He frowns, “Hey, is this my bracelet?”.

“You left it at my place” once the pack is in Robb’s hands, Theon hides his own inside the pocket of his hoodie.

Robb’s eyebrows are both raised in confusion and amusement now, “And you thought wearing it was better than returning it?”

“I like to wear your things, okay?!” Theon’s a blushing mess. He’s smiling, tho.

“Oh believe me I noticed”

Theon just shrugs, “It makes me feel closer to you” he confesses, avoiding any kind of eye contact.

Robb grabs him by the arm and forces him to look into his eyes, instead.

“Even when I’m right here?” He asks, smiling wickedly at him cause god, how he loves to see him blush like that.

Theon chuckles nervously, then moves to caress Robb’s cheek, “Yeah especially when you’re right here.”

Robb doesn’t get it, but doesn’t say so. He just wait for Theon to understand it on his own and eventually explain himself. It takes him a few minutes and one deep breath, but in the end he says, “Sometimes I wonder how the hell is possible that you’re with me and it helps me, cause then I’m just “of course he’s with me, I’m wearing his briefs””.

That confession is lovely, though Robb doesn’t like how insecure Theon still seems to be. “Insecure” and “Theon” aren’t exactly words that look good if put next to each other, but sometimes it’s just this way: when it comes to their relationship, Theon gets insecure at times. Insecure of himself, like he doesn’t deserve Robb. Robb will never get tired of telling him he’s all he wants and he could never replace him, but sometimes he just wishes Theon would understand it.

“We’ve been together for years by now, hon” he tells him gently.

Theon just shakes his head, “Doesn’t change a thing. I’ll never get used to how amazing you are”

He leans forward to kiss Robb’s lips. They should be having a serious conversation right now, but Robb fears it’d ruin the mood. They can talk about it tonight as they’re lying in bed, that’s usually the moment when they share their deepest conversations. Right now, he just smiles at him as he pulls away, and says, “If sharing is caring does it mean I can wear that beautiful white shi-“

“Absolutely not”

Yeah he should have expected that. Still, “But-“

“Your big ass shoulders would rip it” Theon shakes his head firmly and pats both Robb’s shoulders with his hands, as if to prove his point.

Robb pouts, “You love my big ass shoulders”.

“I sure do, but I love my expensive shirts too”.

“Then can I wear your purple hoodie? The one with the squid?”

Theon’s eyes lit up. It looks like a bulb just turned on above his head, like Robb just gave him the best idea ever.

“Now that would look good on you.” He says, “You know what else would? My cream jumper. God you’d be so adorable with that on. We need to go back to my place so you can try on all my clothes. Come on, let’s go.”

Robb lets him grab his hand as they basically run to the car. When they get home, Theon literally makes him wear all his clothes (expensive shirts excluded, of course). They all smell like Theon. Robb gets why Theon likes to wear his clothes so much, this actually does make him feel closer to him.

Though he notices that night, that the sheets smell like both of them, instead. He doesn’t know how come he never noticed this, but it’s the best smell in the world. Theon is sleeping in Robb’s pyjamas, Robb is sleeping in Theon’s. It all just feels so good.

#throbb #throbb one shot #Theon x Robb

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ingek73 · 3 years

Text

Fairytales for fuckwits: Meghan, a children's book, and the school bully tactics of the British tabloids...

Piers Morgan's obsession with Meghan Markle continues, while Mike Graham appears worried there may be too many big words for him to understand.

Mic Wright

May 6

On May the 4th, there was a great disturbance in the force, as if thousands of tabloid reporters and talk radio pundits cried out at once: The Duchess of Sussex had announced she was writing a children’s book.

Since the earth-shattering news that Meghan has written a story about the relationship between father’s and their sons — apparently based on a poem she wrote for Prince Harry — the tabloid press and talk radio stations have gone into meltdown.

The Sun has managed to crank out seven hysterically-pitched stories on the announcement since it dropped — the book isn’t out until June 8th — with each more unhinged than the last:

MEG TO PAPER Meghan Markle writes children’s book inspired by Prince Harry and baby Archie about ‘bond between father and son’

MEG-A MOVE Meghan Markle’s first priority should be mending broken relationships with royals not writing kids’ book, expert claims

SOUNDS A BIT WOODEN ‘Schmaltzy’ Meghan Markle ‘on dodgy ground’ with kids’ book celebrating fathers ‘after own bust-up with dad’ says author

DOUBLE DUCH Meghan Markle accused of copying her kids’ book The Bench from another story – but author defends her

NOT WRITE Piers Morgan slams ‘hypocrite’ Meghan Markle for kids’ book on ‘father-son bond’ after ‘ruining Harry and Charles’ ties’

'RIDICULOUS' Meghan Markle using Duchess of Sussex as author name ‘laughable’ after she wanted to cut Royal ties, says royal expert

CUT PRICE Meghan Markle’s kids’ book has price slashed already at Amazon and Waterstones

You’ll notice that Piers Morgan — a man who has turned one drink with Meghan after which he claims she “ghosted him”, which took place in 2016, into a five year and counting obsession — gets his own story there. That’s The Sun filleting Morgan’s spittle-flecked Daily Mail column on the book for its own news piece.

Morgan, who trails his columns on Twitter like they are exciting new releases rather than the tabloid equivalent of a letter scrawled in faeces forced through your letterbox, dashed out his thoughts on The Bench with the indecent haste of a man running along while his trousers fall down.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @BreeNewsome

DEFUND & ABOLISH POLICE, REFUND OUR COMMUNITIES

@BreeNewsome

Piers Morgan’s obsession with Meghan Markle is genuinely disturbing. He’s really just using the guise of journalism to be a public stalker and harasser.

May 5th 2021

1,414 Retweets10,252 Likes”

Beneath a typically screaming Mail headline — How the hell can Meghan 'I hate royalty but call me Duchess' Markle preach about father-child relationships when she's disowned her own Dad, and wrecked her husband's relationship with his? — Morgan howled:

… she continues to cynically exploit her royal titles because she knows that's the only reason anyone is paying her vast sums of money to spew her uniquely unctuous brand of pious hectoring gibberish in Netflix documentaries, Spotify podcasts or children's books.

Of course, her equally cynical publishers don't give a damn about any of this shocking double standard.

Forget the fact that Meghan had a good degree of personal fame before she ever met Prince Harry, Piers Morgan accusing anyone else of being a cynical fame chaser is beyond parody. From his earliest days as a gossip hack, Morgan has muscled into pictures with the rich and famous, desperate to be someone.

When Meghan was willing to indulge him, he showered her with praise, but once she stopped taking his calls, he turned into the Tinder match from hell. That he has been married to his second wife, fellow controversialist columnist Celia Walden since 2010 seemingly did nothing to dampen his obsession.

Having repeatedly interviewed Meghan’s estranged father Thomas Markle — another man aggrieved because a woman would rather not spend time with him — Morgan sneers:

If she really cared about father-child relationships, she'd take a chauffeur-driven limousine on the hour-long trip to see her own father who's never even met either Harry or Archie.

It’s projection again: Piers Morgan’s ego is so egg-shell thin that after Meghan decided that one drink was more than enough, he’s spent 5 years seeking revenge and convinced that he’s been wronged, just like her ‘poor old dad’. That’s the ‘poor old dad’ that insists on talking about his daughter to journalists at every possible occasion.

At the end of an article that implies Harry and Meghan contributed to the death of Prince Philip — he died of natural causes — and rants on about “the woke”, Morgan ends with this:

But then as we've seen from her gruesomely self-interested behaviour during a pandemic that's caused so much devastation and pain to billions around the world, Meghan Markle doesn't really care about anyone but herself.

Remember, the Duchess of Sussex’s only ‘crime’ here is to write a children’s book which people will be free to buy or ignore with equal ease. But, as ever, Piers Morgan treats the news with all the proportionality of a US drone strike.

The real story here is about how Morgan — the bittiest of bit-part players in the narrative of Meghan and Harry’s lives — is so desperate to upgrade his place in the cast list that he will rant and rave to stay relevant. His departure from Good Morning Britain came after his last stream of invective about Meghan and he knows this schtick gets him the attention and money he craves.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @MariaLRoach

Maria Roach

@MariaLRoach

Meghan Markle inside the tiny space called Piers Morgan’s head. #duchessofsussex Tap Dance GIF by Miss America

May 5th 2021

122 Retweets1,619 Likes”

Aside from Morgan’s column, MailOnline has published 9 other news stories on or related to the book announcement. The most telling of them is one that links the Duchess of Sussex’s book to another one… by the Duchess of Cambridge.

Headlined Bookshelf battle royale! Kate Middleton shares a glimpse inside her Hold Still photobook just a day after Meghan Markle unveiled her own £12.99 children's story, the story unsurprisingly treats Kate with kid gloves while continuing to imply that Meghan is the kind of person who would make gloves out of kids if it suited her devilish schemes.

There’s no shade thrown at the Duchess of Cambridge for revealing further details of her book just hours after Meghan’s announcement. Instead, the story — lavishly illustrated with images from the book — gushes:

The Duchess of Cambridge has shared a glimpse of her photography book Hold Still ahead of its release on Friday…

… Kate, 39, a keen photographer, launched a campaign during the first lockdown last year to ask the public to submit images which captured the period.

It even includes a mention of an image of a BLM protestor saying:

Over the course of the project, the Duchess shared a number of her favourite images on the Kensington Royal Instagram page, including a Black Lives Matter protester holding a sign reading: 'Be on the right side of history.'

If Meghan had done the same she would have been decried for “supporting extremists”. Remember the contrasting way their mutual taste for avocado was covered?

15 Headlines Show How Differently The British Press Treat Meghan Markle Vs Kate Middleton | Bored Panda

Over at The Daily Telegraph, Spiked alumna Ella Whelan offered her thoughts on a book that isn’t released until next month under the headline Meghan Markle’s fun-free children’s book may put an entire generation off reading, which makes it sound like a grimoire full of dark magic rather than a gentle children’s book about kids and their dads.

Just as with the Mail’s story on Kate’s book, it’s worth imagining what Whelan would say if the Duchess of Cambridge had written The Bench. Look at the following section…

It reveals something of the political superficiality of Harry and Meghan’s activism that an “inclusive” book would use the military father as its promotional message. Perhaps it’s a cultural thing, but if my kids have to read about soldiers, I’d prefer Hans Christian Andersen’s tin version rather than the woke posturing of a former royal.

… and notice that because Meghan is the author including a father who is in the military is “political superficiality”. If Kate had written a story that featured an analogue for Prince William — who also spent time in uniform, though in less dangerous circumstances than his ‘spare’ brother — Whelan would likely deem it a ‘touching tribute to their love’.

Similarly, Sarah Ferguson — the ex-wife of Prince Andrew, top Yelp! reviewer for Jeffrey Epstein’s houses and noted avoider of FBI questioning — uses the title Duchess of York on her many execrable children’s books.

Now that Meghan is the tabloid’s new monster in the monarchy, Fergie’s antics are pointed to as a positive with her books flattered even as Meghan’s as-yet-unpublished book is panned.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @talkRADIO

talkRADIO

@talkRADIO

Meghan Markle is releasing a new children's book about father-son relationships.

Mike Graham: "It's so juvenile. This is somebody who acts like she's still in high school... it's not exactly Tennyson, is it?

@mrmarkdolan | @Iromg Image

May 5th 2021

36 Retweets221 Likes”

Over on talkRADIO, Mike Graham — a melting mass of expired meat — ranted about a children’s book, worried perhaps that it will contain too many long words. Speaking to his colleague, Mark Dolan — Dennis Pennis without the charm — Graham crowed:

It’s so juvenile. This is somebody who acts like she’s still in high school… I don’t have anything against her for any particular reason, other than she’s a bit too American, you know. She thinks everything is just great and cheesy. Rhyming the words ‘joy’ and ‘boy’. It’s not exactly Tennyson, is it?

Ah yes, that famous children’s author, Alfred, Lord Tennyson, known for such devastating rhymes as this one from The Lady of Shallot: “She left the web/ She left the loom/ She made three paces through the room.”

I’m not saying The Lady of Shalott is rubbish — though I do still hold a grudge against Tennyson after some very tedious teaching in high school — but that focusing on one rhyme in a poem is an easy trick if you want to say its shit. That Graham cannot see the irony in decrying writing a children’s book as “juvenile” is just one of the reasons he’s employed by a station with less than 1% reach.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @NadimJBaba

Nadim Baba

@NadimJBaba

Piers Morgan ranting about the one who got away in 5, 4, 3.......

Media Guardian @mediaguardian

Meghan wins copyright claim against Mail on Sunday over letter https://t.co/cJZTgDMvgz

May 5th 2021

1 Like”

There’ll be a new round of these columns, stories, and talk radio segments when the book is released, particularly as The Mail on Sunday just lost the second part of Meghan’s copyright claim against it.

There’s nothing that either Meghan or Harry could do that wouldn’t drive these rats in a sack rabid. If they did nothing, they’d be called lazy. When they make things, take jobs, or really say anything the very media that benefits hugely from stories about them scream that it’s a cry for attention. And yet Piers Morgan regularly pissing himself in public is “commentary”.

#meghan markle #prince harry #duchess of sussex #duke of sussex #piers morgan #brokenbottleboy #toxic tabloids #uk press

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and-it-freezes-me · 3 years

Text

Accidents Happen - Empty

Summary: There is only so much truth one can take before having to do something about it, after all.

Content: swearing, discussions of accidents, alcohol abuse, a slightly less than consensual kiss, brief mention of suicide attempts

Word count: 4,122

{Part 4} {Part 6}

The world had gone; the only thing left was the expression on Janus’ face.

If he had looked vulnerable a moment ago, that was nothing to the raw pain that took up residence in the amber flecks in his hazel eyes, nothing to the shock and hurt that suddenly seemed to drip from the fragile cheekbones and sharp jaw.

This was the expression that had been hiding under every joke and tease over the past month. In that moment, Roman was more sure of that fact than he had ever been of anything in his life. That didn’t stop him from ploughing ahead.

“I… I never hurt Remus.” There was a kind of fervour in Janus’ voice, as though the idea was repugnant to him. He just couldn’t stop lying, could he?

“Don’t lie to me!” Roman’s voice was sharp despite the muddle of guilt and confusion and alcohol clogging his thoughts. Was he really tipsy already? He’d only had a few mouthfuls. “I know you did something. Remus’ scared - he’s terrified of you!”

He was pointing accusingly at Janus, he realised. What must this look like to somebody else? Roman, standing by the rock, furiously jabbing his finger toward Janus - who looked as though he were about to cry. Crocodile tears, Roman thought.

“I didn’t do anything to him! He -” Panic had taken over, lifting Janus’ words almost an octave, and Roman felt a dark kind of satisfaction take over.

“You’re still lying, Janus - I know you did something. I know you did!” He was shouting now, the words racing around the clearing, tearing through him, ripping into Janus. Roman could see him quivering under their ferocity. Good. “I’ve been watchin’ you for weeks now, waiting for you to slip up, but you’re just too good! The lyin’s in your bones - but you’re gonna tell me. You’re going to tell me what you did to -”

“That’s what this has been about?” There was something new in the medley of agony in Janus’ face now. Betrayal. His voice had dropped back to its usual tone, but now there was something under the words, something pulsing. “You - Fuck! You know, Remus warned me that you’d do this, and I didn’t listen because I’m a goddamn idiot!” He laughed harshly, and Roman kept glaring at him. Finally. Finally, after everything he had done, maybe now he would get the truth. “Hell, even Virgil warned me - repeatedly! When you approached me, I thought you might actually want to be friends. All that guilt over ‘what Remus did to me’ -” Janus didn’t gesture, hands gripping the strap of his satchel, but Roman heard the quotation marks in his voice. “- I thought it might turn into friends, maybe even something more! I thought Remus was wrong about you. But he was right, wasn’t he? We’re all just pawns in your stupid game, where you get to run around playing the hero and trampling over everybody else.”

“Stop lying - tell me the truth! You didn’t even know Remus!” Now it was Roman’s voice that was rising in pitch.

Janus laughed again, his face contorted into something resembling a snarl. His cheeks were wet - no, only his unmarked cheek. There were no tears on the burned side. “Didn’t know him? You’re the one that doesn’t know him! Remus is my best fucking friend.”

“Bullshit! He crashed my car tryin’to get rid of you! He’d rather b-”

“He didn’t crash that car - I did!” The words had been a desperate scream, and left a ringing silence in their wake. Janus’ chest was heaving, and a curious calm had settled over Roman. The very trees around them held their breath, leaning in to hear what Janus had to say. “I crashed that fucking car and I almost fucking died, Roman, and you know what Remus did? He - He dragged me out of that burning deathtrap and he called the fucking police on himself to get the ambulance there faster and then he fucking refused to let me take the fucking fall for my own stupid fucking decisions! Are you happy now?” Janus dragged the back of his hand across his face, but any tears he managed to remove were immediately replaced.

“I…” Roman took a stunned step forward, and Janus stumbled back as though Roman were threatening him with a lighter.

“Stay the fuck away from me, you - Just stay away from me.”

Janus kept his eyes on Roman as he backed out of the clearing, but as soon as he was past the treeline he turned his back on Roman and fled.

Are you happy now? Remus had asked him something similar. Happy?

Roman could say, without a shred of doubt, that he had never been less happy.

Actually, he wasn’t sure he had ever been less… Anything. He couldn’t feel happy, not after that. The discovery of the truth at long last had brought no satisfaction - but he didn’t feel sad, either. He had done what he had had to, right? Now he was just… Empty. (Both in a literal and a metaphorical sense - shortly after Janus had left him, Roman’s lunch and the small amount of whiskey he had had had made a reappearance. He was sat by the rock, the puddle of vomit about a metre away from him).

He was shaking, although no tears had come. He didn’t seem to have anything left inside him to expel.

You see people as obstacles in your way, Virgil had said.

You just use me to wipe away the stains, Remus had said.

You just use people as pawns. You just trample all over them, Janus had said.

That couldn’t be completely true. There had to be somebody that Roman hadn’t hurt - but he couldn’t think of anybody.

He had been complaining about how annoying Remus was to Patton just days before Remus had pushed him down those stairs - but that wasn’t his fault, was it? It hadn’t been until over a year later that Patton had stopped talking to him as though they were friends and started treating him as little more than an acquaintance, and even then only when there were other people involved in the conversation. Roman didn’t even know why they had stopped being friends.

He had just fallen out of touch with Virgil. They had been growing up, growing apart, it happened. Maybe he could have done some things better - but now that Roman actually sat down and thought about it, tried to understand, he just remembered trying to cut Virgil out. Why? What had it been?

Oh, yes. Virgil hadn’t fitted in with the group of upperclassmen that Roman had been trying to impress, so Roman had just… But they had just been kids. Just stupid kids. Virgil had forgiven him, right? They still spoke, they were still… Haven’t you hurt me enough? Maybe Virgil hadn’t forgiven him after all.

Logan, then. He’d never… But he had, hadn’t he? Logan had moved to town at the start of highschool, and in their first interaction Roman could remember making three separate jibes at their stiff, unnaturally formal way of speaking. That hadn’t stopped him from getting Logan to tutor him in Calculus, which he had been failing at the time, and then… Never talking to them again. And then there was Wednesday, just three days ago, when he had tried to use them to blackmail Virgil.

And now that Roman thought about it, he couldn’t think of anybody else he had ever considered his friends. There were the other students at school, but he had never spent much time trying to befriend any of them. A Prince, a hero, whatever he was didn’t need friends. He just needed people to nod at in the corridors, people to applaud when he took a major role in a play, people to look at him and remark that he truly was the angelic twin.

I’m your friend - possibly your only friend, Janus had said. At the time, Roman had thought it was a cheap attempt to manipulate him into being dependent on him. He hadn’t thought about it hard enough to come to the conclusion that it was the truth.

Had been the truth. Wasn’t the truth anymore.

Roman wanted to be sick again.

Roman’s mum was working the night shift at the hospital and his dad had gone to see a friend on the other side of town; neither of them were there when he finally dragged himself back home. Dropping Remus’ keys carelessly onto the kitchen table, Roman stared around at the empty room. Three chairs, arranged neatly around the circular table. A picture of him taped to the fridge, taken from one of the opening scenes of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Clear surfaces, a bowl of fruit by the sink, a line of deer, each the height of Roman’s thumb and carved from pink stone, on the windowsill. He bought his mother a new one every birthday. His acceptance letter to his first choice of university framed and hung by the door. A silver plated medal he had gotten as a second-place prize in a dance competition he had entered when he had been younger.

There was no sign of Remus anywhere in the room, and Roman knew that if he searched through the rest of the house (barring Remus’ room, which he was surprised they had not already cleared out), he would find the same thing in every room. If a stranger were to walk into their home, they would think that Mr. and Mrs. Wang had only one son.

They kept a few ‘emergency’ bottles of alcohol in the back of the cupboard by the sink. Every now and then, their parents would blow up at Remus for stealing some. At least half of those explosions had been Roman’s fault, too.

Well, at least this time there was no way Remus could have swiped the bottle of vodka from the stash. It was mostly empty, and for the first time, Roman was glad he was such a lightweight.

He was well past tipsy and on his way to being properly drunk when it occurred to him that Remy was probably the only person that would still speak to him now. Wasn’t that sad? His only friend was the guy that sold him drugs. (Where had Remus been getting the Xanax? It was a prescription drug, and they didn’t have any in the house).

There had been a house party that he, Remus, and Virgil had begged Remy to take them to when they were thirteen, Roman remembered. Remy had just turned sixteen, just gotten his driver’s license, couldn’t resist showing off to his little brother and his friends, and had given in easily. Roman had had his first drink here. He had assumed that Remus had as well, but given recent information… Well, maybe not. Remy had said that he was cute, and when Roman had kissed him he had pushed him away and told him to come back in a few years.

Maybe he should.

It wasn’t as though he had anything else to lose, after all - and the treacherous, maggoty thing that had taken up residence in Roman’s stomach, his chest, his brain, whispered that he deserved a reward for finally discovering the truth.

He didn’t deserve a reward, of course. The truth was that he was every bit as much of a demon as Remus was - perhaps even more so - but just much, much better at hiding it, even from himself.

A distraction, then. If he was already damned, what was the harm in using one more person?

Roman didn’t know where the day had gone, but it was dark by the time he found himself throwing stones at Remy’s bedroom window. Most of them missed - in fact, Roman wasn’t sure whether a single one hit the large window on the second floor. He wasn’t sure how many of them actually hit the house itself, actually. Unsurprisingly, nobody came to see why somebody was throwing pebbles at the house, although a dog in the next garden did start barking. Undeterred, Roman made his wobbly way closer to the building. There was a trellis working its way up the wall, and he only fell off it once on his way up, landing on his tailbone. That should have been painful, but he was drunk enough that he barely felt a thing. He was singing - how long had he been singing for? Roman wasn’t sure, but as he reached the top of the trellis and knocked loudly on Remy’s window, he was singing ‘Poor, Unfortunate Souls’ in an unsteady tenor.

He wasn’t knocking long before the window slid open, and Remy’s confused face was staring at him. Having nothing better to do with his hands, Roman reached out and plucked his sunglasses from his head, and used them to keep his own hair out of his eyes.

Remy grabbed the front of his shirt. Why had he done that?

Then Roman remembered that he was supposed to be holding onto the side of the house so that he didn’t fall again. Oops.

“Roman, babe, what the hell are you doing?”

“That,” Roman said, holding up a finger importantly, “Isa very good question.” Then he chuckled.

Remy looked mildly alarmed. “Are you drunk?”

“Nu-uh.” Shaking his head, Roman adjusted the sunglasses on his head. They had been slipping down over his eyes. It was dark - why was Remy wearing sunglasses in the dark? That didn’t make any sense. “But then, nothing does!”

He chuckled again, and Virgil’s brother looked even more perturbed. “If you’re here for more pot, I’m out. ‘Sides, babe, it’s almost one in the morning and you’re wasted. Go home, Roman. Sleep it off.”

“Yooooou’re not sleeping,” Roman protested. It was true - Remy was wearing his leather jacket, as though he had been about to go out. “D’you still think I’m cute?”

Remy looked at him again, a frown creasing his forehead. Roman reached over to smooth it out and Remy caught his hand to stop him from doing so. “When did I say you were cute, babe?” He was starting to look suspicious.

“Party.”

“A party, huh? Was this the same party that Remus puked in the pool behind Elliott’s house? When you were thirteen?”

“Uh-huh. You said, you said I should come back in a few, a few years!” Roman beamed at Remy. “So I did!”

“Roman, I think you shoul-”

That was when Roman leaned forward and kissed him.

It wasn’t a good kiss. Even drunk, he could tell that. Their teeth clicked together uncomfortably, their noses squished against one another, and Remy didn’t even close his eyes. Of course, Roman only knew this because he hadn’t closed his eyes either - but he had forgotten, and he had an excuse for forgetting, because he was drunk.

Then Remy’s hands found his chest and pushed, which definitely wasn’t how kisses were meant to go.

Roman wobbled, teetering precariously backward. Was this how he died? Pushed out of a window after his second kiss?

“Shit!” Then he was being jerked the other way, and there was the sound of ripping fabric. His hip bones knocked painfully against the windowsill - he felt that one; Roman was in a heap on the floor of Remy’s room, his would-be murderer and saviour next to him. There was a scrap of what Roman recognised as his shirt in his hand.

“Ow,” he complained, and Remy actually glared at him. Roman didn’t think he had ever seen Remy mad. He reached out to try to rearrange his face into its usual bored expression, Remy grabbed his wrists to stop him. “Why’d you have to push me?”

“You can’t just kiss people, you ass.”

“But you said I was cute!”

“Five years ago, Roman. That’s a quarter of my life! If you weren’t so clearly wasted, I’d be kicking you out of the house right now.” Remy was standing, brushing his jacket down and still scowling. Roman didn’t remember him letting go of his hands, but they were certainly free now. He pushed himself to his feet. Remy only watched as he stumbled and grabbed the chair beside him for support.

“But - But you kiss everyone,” Roman whined, and was surprised when the other man made a hissing sound and gestured for him to keep his voice down. He hadn’t realised he had been shouting.

“Yeah - five years ago. People change when you’re not looking at them, babe.” The endearment had never sounded less affectionate.

Roman pouted. “You wanted to kiss me back then. Why not nowwww?”

Remy actually laughed at that, only there was no mirth in his voice. It didn’t hurt when he took Roman by the shoulder and pushed him until he was sitting on the large duvet that crowded Remy’s bed, but he wasn’t exactly being gentle, either.

“Why don’t I want to kiss you now? What, aside from the fact that you’re trashed and probably using me as some kind of rebound? I do have standards, you know. Being a flirt doesn’t mean I’m easy.” He jabbed a finger into Roman’s chest, and didn’t wait for a response before ploughing on. “Given how little you care about other people, I doubt you’d take the fact that I’ve had a steady boyfriend for three years as a reason not to kiss me. You only care about yourself.”

“I dooo care about others…” Roman protested weakly - but he wasn’t sure he believed his words. This time, Remy’s laughter took on a higher pitch, sounding more like a strangled sob than anything else. Roman just stared groggily at him.

“Oh, that’s rich. You were Virgil’s best friend - do you know how much it messed Vee up when you stopped talking to him for no reason? He was going through hell, and you decided that he wasn’t worth your time anymore. You were supposed to be there for him. How could I ever want to touch you after you hurt him like that!? I only deal to you ‘cause I need the goddamn cash.”

Roman blinked, shook his head, mumbled, “He… He was fine with it…” If his words couldn’t even convince himself, how could he ever convince Remy?

“My baby brother tried to fucking kill himself, and you couldn’t even be bothered to send a message to check if he was okay!” The words escaped Remy in a sound approaching a howl, and he shoved Roman roughly. Roman offered little resistance, falling back into the covers and watching, eyes unfocused, as they billowed around him.

“He… Wha?”

Remy snorted in disgust and took a step toward the door, apparently having regained some of his composure. He was breathing as though he had been running. “I’m not having this conversation with you, not while you’re drunk. Sleep it off and then get out of our house.”

In a way, the restraint with which Remy closed his bedroom door behind him was worse than it would have been if he had slammed it shut.

He didn’t want to be drunk anymore. A weak hiccup left him, followed by another, and then he was crying again, allowing the tears to drag him down into the blissful nothingness of sleep.

Roman awoke to sunlight streaming across his face, and immediately wished he was dead. A marching band - one without any particular skill - had set up camp in his skull. His eyes felt puffy, his throat raw, and his tailbone ached with a vengeance.

It took a couple of moments for Roman to realise that he wasn’t in his room, and a few minutes more to cobble together hazy memories of going to visit Remy, and Remy…

Oh.

Roman might not be able to remember every word of what had passed between them, but he was aware of the important points.

Remy had changed and grown, and he hadn’t. And Virgil…

Roman would very much like to find a hole to hide in and never, ever come out.

Instead, he removed Remy’s sunglasses and left them on the bedside table, on top of a hefty looking textbook. He left through the still open window, half climbed and half fell down the trellis outside, and stumbled home through the painfully loud woods.

Both of his parents were waiting for him when he got home. They sat him down at the kitchen table, fussed over him. At first their questions were gentle, concerned. Was he okay? It wasn’t like him to stay out overnight. Why was he covered in mud - and was that blood on his face? Was he hurt?

He just stared at them.

Then they got a little more… Passionate. Dae asked if he had been drinking. Hyun-ki said that they knew he had been drinking, so there was no point lying about it. That was irresponsible - he didn’t usually act like this. Was something wrong? Where had he been?

Still, he said nothing. It occurred to him that he was probably hurting them by not saying anything. He didn’t have anything to say.

They got more angry then. Now wasn’t the time to be acting out - he was supposed to be an adult, and people were already talking about their family. They didn’t need the stress of him suddenly going wild. Things were bad enough as it was, what with everything going on. If he couldn’t behave, he was going to have to be grounded as though he were fourteen again.

The shouting was just hurting his head.

What was wrong with him? He couldn’t afford to be acting like this. Did he want to turn out like Remus?

That was what finally got Roman to say something. Slowly, as though he had all the time in the world, he pushed his chair back and stood. Then he tucked it in again. Finally, he looked them in the eye, one after another. There were tears in his mother’s eyes; Roman had never noticed just how many lines creased his father’s forehead.

“Remus,” he said quietly, “deserved better.”

Then he left the room.

Neither of them tried to follow him. He was fairly certain that they were both glued to the floor in shock at his pronouncement.

Remus’ bedroom door was open when he passed it. Roman made to close it, then paused and looked inside. There was a large cardboard box on the floor, with ‘Charity’ scrawled across it in large letters, his mother’s looping handwriting. It was half full of books and what clothing Remus had owned that was actually fit to be passed on.

Roman stared at it for a second.

Then he started unpacking it, returning the books to the shelf behind the door and the clothes to the wardrobe. There was a skateboard under the clothing, which he frowned at before pushing under the bed, and a large stuffed lion. It looked almost brand new, aside from the layer of dust that had settled into its mane and along its back. When Roman turned it, its eyes glittered in the light from the bare bulb above him and the sunlight streaming in through the curtainless windows.

There was a space in the dust under Remus’ bed that was the exact shape of the stuffed toy, so Roman returned it to its home.

When the box was finally empty, he collapsed it, folded it up, and dropped it on the floor of the hallway.

Only then did Roman allow himself to enter his own room and lock the door behind him - Remus’ door didn’t have a lock. It didn’t even have a proper handle anymore: duct tape had been stuck over the gaping hole left by its removal, and there was a stone by the door that Remus used to keep it shut.

How had Roman just accepted that when it had happened?

“Do you want to turn out like Remus?”

Because he didn't want to feel his parents’ disappointment turned upon him. That was why. The thought disgusted him. He wasn’t a prince. He was a coward at best, and at worst?

You see people as obstacles in your way.

You just use me to wipe away the stains.

You just use people as pawns. You just trample all over them.

You only care about yourself.

He had a lot of things to fix. A lot of apologies to make. But for now, all he could find the energy to do was to close his curtains and collapse into bed, still muddy, still wearing yesterday’s clothing, the taste of vodka and tears still on his tongue.

The world could wait until he woke up again.

Taglist:

@bloodymari-0666

#roman sanders #finally hits rock bottom #and runs out of mistakes to make #janus sanders #really needs a hug right now #remus sanders #deserved better than what he got #virgil sanders #remy sanders #alcohol #AccidentsHappenAU #things gotta get worse before they can get better

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