#this is as much a reminder/statement for myself as it is for anyone else lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

golbrocklovely · 2 months

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the rakish gentlemen // sam and colby

A/N: just a general statement across the board: i'm not going for historical accuracy here. i did a very small amount of research for this, most of which was based on the language and some of the societal norms but even then, it wasn't a thorough search. so if things are incorrect or not quite right… that's why. also this is heavily inspired by my new found love for bridgerton, so anything in the story that reminds you of that (show or book wise) - that's also why lol anyone that writes regency romances or stories, props to you bc the formal English alone made me want to off myself. just kidding… but not really. anyway, i hope you enjoy this one. it was fun to write once i got the hang out it. lmk what you think and i'll see you guys with another fic (hopefully) soon :)

prompt: being out in society was enough of a challenge, but overhearing two very sought after lords' snide remarks about you made you want to give up altogether. that is until you hatch a plan - make them beg for your hand in marriage, and then leave them high and dry. it should be simple enough. || AU!regency era sam and colby x fem!reader

trigger warning: formal english (lol), historical inaccuracy, lots of 'samuel' and 'cole' so if you don't like that don't read lol, snc are kind of dicks but they turn it around by the end somewhat, just a whisper of smut but not really, cliff hanger ending??, heavy on gender norms of the time period so be weary of that if that's something you don't like, bit of angst, everyone is of age/in their 20s

word count: 6347

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The weather in London during the middle of spring was the absolute best time of year, according to most in the Ton. To Miss Y/N Y/L/N, it was the most splendid of weather to promenade with one's closest confidant, and for her that was Miss Amelia Ruteledge. The two had been inseparable since childhood, living across the street from one another. And coming out in society together only strengthened their bond over the last two seasons.

"How eager are you for Lady Gillingham's masquerade ball this evening?" Amelia asked, coyly stealing a glance at Y/N.

"I can hardly wait. I am positively elated." Y/N replied dryly, her faux smile wide.

"Y/N, must you indulge in sarcasm?" She questioned.

"Yes, Amelia. I must," a quiet laugh fell from her lips. "It is hard for me to be excited for yet another ball, one where I will again be doomed to the corner of the room, watching as others dance."

"I had presumed you enjoyed observing." Amelia teased.

"It is not as fun anymore, ever since your courtship with Viscount Throne began." Y/N sighed, wiping away pretend tears from her cheeks, "Alas, my spinsterhood is in full bloom."

She shook her head, patting Y/N's arm sweetly, "Don't be ridiculous. You are nowhere near being a spinster."

"I'm two years out in society with little to show for it. One might believe I had contracted the plague, given how much the gentlemen of the Ton disregard me." Y/N rolled her eyes, her voice bitter.

"You mustn't say that. You are an absolute catch, by all accounts." Amelia argued, looking into Y/N's eyes.

She huffed. "Thank you. But your opinion apparently is the only one that is favorable towards me."

"That is simply not true," she protested back. "I believe many gentlemen in the Ton would admire you once they were acquainted. But I would not be surprised if your charm and wit intimidate them, thereby causing their reluctance."

A cheeky smile appeared on Y/N's face. "I couldn't have said that better myself." The ladies giggled, continuing down the walkway towards a small pond. Y/N glanced upwards, noting the eligible men coming their way. Grabbing Amelia's arm, she yanked her behind a tree close by, pressing her back tightly against the oak.

Amelia furrowed her brow, "What ails you?"

Y/N hushed her, looking over Amelia’s shoulder. "I don't wish to speak to anyone else presently. Particularly suitors."

"So you think hiding behind a tree is wise?" She blinked.

Y/N wanted to glare, but held back. "Guess I'm not as witty as you thought."

Amelia peaked behind the tree, their maids coming closer to them. She gestured for them to stop, not wanting the men Y/N was so flustered by to notice. The maids turned towards each other, giving a knowing look, and faced the pond instead.

"Did they leave yet?" Y/N whispered.

Amelia hummed. "No. They are still coming our way."

"Damn." She cursed, scrunching her face.

"Speak louder. I am sure your coarse tongue will make them leave hastily." She gaped.

Y/N held back more careless words, doing her best to remain calm. "I am certain that any gentleman has heard far worse words than a solitary curse from a lady's lips."

Amelia peaked again, her eyes widening. "Oh, you are correct about that. Did you see who was coming?"

"No. I just knew it was three gentlemen." Y/N dissented.

"It's Mr. Beaumont... with Lord Golbach and Lord Brock." Amelia choked out.

"Ah, even worse than I imagined." Y/N gulped.

Lord Samuel Golbach and Lord Cole Brock were some of the most sought after men in all of the Ton. Eager mamas and anxious daughters alike pined to be seen affectionately by the two Lords. They were not only rich, but handsome - a deadly combination. And with years of friendship under their belt, they were basically family to one another. Everyone out in society knew - to get in good graces with one, you had to be liked by the other.

But even with everyone wanting their attention, they were seldom to give it out. The rakish behavior displayed by the two was known throughout, which confused Y/N deeply. Why play cat and mouse if one knows it's not trying to be caught? Why pretend to be an eligible bachelor if there were no plans to seek a wife at all?

Y/N knew to stay away. She had no interest in them, moreover.

"Mr. Beaumont, I do believe you are one of the funniest men in all of London." Cole chuckled, clasping the man on the shoulder.

Edward bowed, "Such high praise coming from you, Lord Brock. You two are going to tonight's ball, yes?"

"Of course. Wouldn't miss it for the world." Samuel grinned, glancing at Cole knowingly.

"I must ask, are there any ladies that have caught your eye this season?" Edward continued.

Samuel shook his head, "Unsurprisingly, no. Cole and I have very high standards. So high, in fact, it has been impossible to find anyone worthy of matching with."

"How incredibly rude." Amelia murmured.

"I am confident there are several ladies in the Ton that would be worthy of becoming your wives. What about Miss Mullens?" Edward mentioned.

"Terrible dancer." Cole quipped.

He questioned, "How about Miss Walford?"

Samuel frowned. "Her character is sorely lacking."

"Miss Ramsbury?" He puzzled.

"Beautiful indeed, most obnoxious laugh I've ever heard however." Cole jeered.

"Miss Y/L/N! What about her? She seems well." Edward exclaimed.

A silence filled the air, Y/N only hearing the sound of her pounding heart within her breast. While she may not have harbored interest in either Lord, the notion of their thoughts about her caused her skin to tingle thrillingly. She had never heard a man speak of her in any way, romantic or otherwise. She was eager to know.

Both men snickered, an almost childish laugh cutting through. Samuel cleared his throat, "You must be joking, Beaumont. That lady, would be the last on our list to ever be courted by us. Remember, we have high standards."

"Not even worthy of considering, if I'm honest." Cole sniveled.

“I suppose those are the lower ranking ladies of the Ton.” Mr. Beaumont chortled.

Amelia moved to jump out from behind the tree, ready to give all three gentlemen a piece of her mind. Y/N grabbed her arm, yanking her close. She motioned for her to remain silent, listening once more to the Lords and Mr. Beaumont.

"It is getting late, good sirs. I must be arriving back home soon for late afternoon tea with the missus. Good day, Lord Golbach. Lord Brock. Best of luck on your endeavors." He bowed, the Lords following suit.

Y/N finally turned to all three gentlemen, still covered by the oak tree. She watched as the Lords went off in the opposite direction as Mr. Beaumont. She waited until they were far enough away, taking her first breath in for what felt like years.

"I cannot believe those men!" Amelia screeched lowly.

Y/N slid down the tree, resting her head back, exhausted. "It's incredible, really. Dare I say... humbling?"

"Calling them rakes is the nicest thing I can think of. They are-" She started.

Cutting her off, Y/N placed a hand up. "Save your words, Amelia. Heaven knows I'm thinking far worse than you."

She stared at the ground for a moment, replaying their words over and over in her head. It hurt to hear how cold they were towards her, someone they had never even had a single conversation with.

"Lord Golbach and Lord Brock don't know you, Y/N. And by the way they speak of strangers, they don't deserve to know you either. No wonder no one has won their affections. They have far too much for themselves." Amelia retorted. She fanned herself, feeling her skin growing hot with anger.

Y/N mumbled. "High standards, remember?"

"I have heard of the numerous rejections they’ve given to the ladies of the Ton. It's astonishing how sought after they remain." Amelia declared, utterly appalled.

Rejected. The word echoed in Y/N's head. No one knew that feeling quite like her, especially not the Lords. Who could ever reject them...

Abruptly, Y/N jumped to her feet with an incredulous smirk; an idea rushing to the forefront of her mind.

"Pray tell, what is that look for?" Amelia queried.

"I believe the Lords just need a dose of their own medicine." She sang snidely.

Amelia raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"What lady in all of the Ton has ever rejected them? Every girl and mama swoons at their feet; that's why they feel they can judge and dismiss anyone they want, regardless of how perfect a match the lady might be," Y/N stated. "So... what if that is turned on them?"

"How?" Amelia leaned back against the tree, studying her friend.

"Tonight's ball. It is a masquerade. Those two have never spoken to me, not once in all of the two years I've been out. Yet somehow, they've already declared I'm not worthy to be their wife just from mere appearances alone. Well, what if they aren't worthy enough to be my husband?" Y/N's eyes were wild, a mischievous glint sparkling within.

She gasped, "You're going to reject them?"

"I shall make them plead for my hand in marriage, only to desert them after all." She boasted.

"Do you think you can do that?" Amelia cocked her head to the side.

Y/N rolled her eyes, "I plan to beat them at their own game. I am sure they won’t know what to do with themselves when a woman is actually disinterested in them. Plus, anything else my charm and wit can make up for… hopefully."

"Are you sure your skills are up to the challenge? This could possibly ruin you if done incorrectly. A man won't take his pride being scorned." Amelia worried, holding Y/N's hand briefly.

She gave Amelia's hand a gentle squeeze, "I have been watching for two seasons what works and what doesn't. I've always been too frightened to be myself, to be vulnerable. But I have nothing to lose tonight. I am not interested in them, and they do not even see me as a potential match. I have to do this, for my pride alone."

Y/N strutted away, nodding to her maid to follow her. She stopped for a moment, turning back to Amelia. "After tonight, no more Miss Wallflower."

~~~~

Luckily for Y/N, being friendly with the modiste had its perks. For one, she was able to have some alterations done to her gown long before the ball. She was used to wearing more muted colors; colors that faded her into the background of any dance. But now, staring in the looking glass at herself, her rose colored gown almost sparkled in the candlelight.

She knew this would be one of the more flashier gowns, even for a masquerade. Lady Gillingham's balls were always known as being a bit uptight; the masquerade was the only one where going against her rules was allowed. But most in the Ton dared to not break them even so.

Y/N felt a rush of nerves hit her. Would this be enough to cause the Lords to notice her? She hoped. If not, her whole plan would be foiled.

The carriage ride to the Gillingham estate felt like an eternity. Y/N fanned herself repeatedly; the cool night air doing nothing for her warm skin.

Amelia and Y/N wrote to one another to meet at the Gillingham lineage painting that adorned the entrance. Both ladies concurred that the face of Viscount Gillingham in the painting always looked like he was cocked eyed; something they both had jested about their first time out in society. They knew that was their spot to meet if they needed to step away from it all. But tonight, because of their masks, they wanted to be able to find a familiar face in the crowd if anything was to go awry.

Y/N pulled her cloak tightly to her bodice, making sure her dress was covered. She gazed around the foyer of the estate, the grand ceilings always making her feel so small. She could hear the ball had commenced, a fanciful melody being played by the orchestra echoed down the halls. She waited under the painting, glancing at all of the attendees coming through the doors. Which one would be Amelia and her Viscount?

Rounding the stairs, a golden dress shone in the corner of Y/N's vision. She turned, making note of the matching locks of hair.

Along with their meeting spot, Y/N and Amelia devised a query only they knew. Y/N studied the woman, finally speaking. "Excuse me, have you ever read Emma? It is one of my favorite novels."

"There is nothing like staying home, for real comfort." Amelia quoted, relief hitting her at the sound of her friend's voice.

Y/N sighed, "Oh thank Heavens it's you Amelia. I thought you might already be in the ballroom."

Amelia shook her head, "I informed you I would wait until your arrival to enter the ball."

Y/N gazed over Amelia's shoulder, looking for someone. "Where is your Viscount?"

She smiled, "He had affairs to tend to, and said he wouldn't be able to make it tonight. So I'm all yours."

"You don't have to stay with me all night. Just until my plan works on the Lords." The girls locked their arms with one another, slowly walking towards the ballroom.

"They've already arrived. I saw them come in moments before you." Amelia whispered low.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, "Well, let's make our grand entrance then."

As the ladies walked into the ballroom, Y/N noted that they were the last two to enter. She held her breath, staring over the railing of the beautiful marble stairs. She could feel all eyes turn to her and Amelia. Amelia trotted down the stairs, her gloved fingers holding the banister gently. Y/N waited until she was at the bottom, and began her descent.

Now was the time to woo over the men of the Ton, she thought. She untied her cloak, letting it fall off her shoulders; leaving it on the stairs. Light gasps fell from around the room. She knew her alterations would cause a stir, but gasps? She was taken aback by such sounds.

Not only did she go gloveless to this event, but her slightly lowered neckline showed off her most precious of jewels in more ways than one. The modiste spoke of how most of the Ton was not breaking Gillingham's rules, disregarding the whole point of a masquerade. Y/N knew this was her time to shine. To become a rule breaker.

Lord Golbach and Lord Brock were rule breakers themselves. And even more so, heartbreakers. They were aware of this too. Samuel and Cole gave each other a quick glance, noting the breathtaking beauty dressed in rose coming down the stairs.

Eligible gentlemen from around the room scurried over to Amelia and Y/N, doing their best to introduce themselves quickly. Cole smoothed out his suit jacket, parted his way through the crowd and reached Y/N in no time.

Y/N was taken aback by all the men surrounding her, never having this much attention before. As she glanced up, her eyes immediately made contact with a pair of striking blue ones. The pleasing smile, the chestnut hair, the almost devilish gaze.... she knew it could only be one man.

"Miss Rose, lovely to make your acquaintance." Cole bowed, speaking over all of the men pining for her.

She scrunched her face, confused. "Do you believe that to be my name?"

He blinked, "No. I'm simply calling you that because of your gown."

"Oh..." Y/N cleared her throat awkwardly, returning to a more disinterested persona. "How clever."

"May I accompany you to the floor?" He asked, his voice as smooth as silk.

A man in the small crowd let out a scoff, "Good sir, I do believe I was-"

"I think I can speak for myself, your grace." She turned back to Cole, a playful smile on her lips, "I'm afraid you aren't the first to ask. But if you care to wait, I'll gladly dance with you second."

Lord Brock was surprised, but he chalked up this misunderstanding to her not knowing who he was. No one ever denied Cole a dance. Even those with cards completely filled out. He bowed graciously, moving out of the way so she could be guided onto the dancefloor by the other gentleman.

By his short stature, Cole could tell it was Viscount Davis. While he did have a lot of money, he was a tiresome presence to be around. And surely, Miss Rose would soon find that out herself.

And Y/N did, in record time. Being eye-level with a gentleman was not exactly something she was used to, but all it did was make her very aware of his eyes stealing glances at her bosom. The song ended rather quickly, the Heavens listening to her pleas. Before she could even curtsy at the gentleman, Cole was already next to her, waiting to join her in the next dance. She almost laughed at how eager he was; how easily her plan was playing out. They bowed to one another, and the music slowly began. His expert hands slid into hers, warm and welcoming. His close proximity made her aware suddenly just how handsome he really was. She could understand, for a moment, why so many ladies fawned over him. And her heart skipped a beat.

"Would you be alright with me breaking the rules this evening?" Cole chimed in suddenly.

Y/N cocked her head, "That depends on what you intend to break."

"I would like to tell you my name, and perhaps you will tell me yours?" He wagered.

"Perhaps..." She trailed off, detached.

"I'm Lord Brock. And if you glance over your shoulder now, the man by the refreshments table is Lord Samuel Golbach." He motioned with his head behind her.

Y/N did peak, noting the eyes of Samuel following her and Cole around the room. "Hmm. Interesting."

"May you wish to tell me yours now?" Cole smiled.

"No, I do not." Y/N shook her head plainly.

"I am surprised. But maybe I shouldn't be," Cole spun her, pulling her back into him. "It appears that you resemble me in many respects."

"And what respects are those?" She questioned.

"If I may presume, you seem inclined to forge your own path. You do not heed merely because it was asked of you." He remarked honestly.

Y/N felt her heart skip again, damning her feelings internally as she kept up her charade. "And you have been able to deduce all of this from the mere twenty minutes I've been in this ballroom?"

Cole smirked confidently, "What can I say? I possess the ability to read others well, particularly charming young ladies."

She held back the urge to roll her eyes at his response. While she wanted to beat him at his own game, she didn't want to be rude. "And how well has that worked out for you, my Lord? Since apparently you and Samuel can't seem to find a match."

Hearing Sam's name fall from her lips was shocking, but that alone made him like her more. She was feisty, and he enjoyed that quality in a woman. "Having standards set high has caused some issues, yes. But maybe I will find the one tonight."

"Have you already encountered someone that has peaked your interest?" She inquired.

"I would say so. It shouldn't come as a shock since you're the only one I've danced with tonight. And the only one I plan to." He brought his face closer to hers, flashing a charming smile.

"How delightful," Y/N mimicked his look. "I cannot say I feel the same, unfortunately."

His face dropped instantly, "I beg your pardon?"

Y/N wanted to relish in this moment for forever, but the music was slowly coming to an end. "Oh, my apologies, my Lord. I thought we were speaking candidly."

"You... you don't enjoy my company?" Cole stammered. Stammered.

"Well, you are an accomplished dancer and pleasing to the eye and yet... I am unable to see you worthy as a potential suitor." She curtsied dramatically as their dance finished, her mischievous eyes sparkling from the flames of the candles. "My deepest gratitude, my Lord, for being my second dance. If you'll excuse me, I must go see my other suitors, however."

Y/N turned away, swaying her hips sensually as she walked over to Amelia. Her skin felt like it was on fire from where Cole had been touching her. Even though she hated admitting it, something about Cole was mesmerizing. Intoxicating, even. If she hadn't heard what he said this afternoon, she could see a world in which she would fall for him.

But she couldn't focus on that now. She couldn't believe she had actually done it. She successfully rejected one of the Lords.

Amelia gaped, staring at Y/N. "I'm in awe of you, truly. You are a goddess amongst men."

"I feel like I'm going to faint." Y/N grabbed Amelia's arm, keeping her back turned towards the dancefloor.

"Really?" Amelia pushed her glass to Y/N, who nodded a 'thank you'.

"Sort of." Y/N downed her lemonade, the refreshing citrus drink calming her nerves only slightly. "Is he still looking over here?"

"If by 'looking' you mean casting daggers, then indeed, that is the case. And," she giggled nervously, "try not to faint when I tell you this, but Lord Golbach is making his approach."

Y/N swallowed hard. "You jest."

Amelia gave a weary smile, "No, but I must make my getaway."

She backed away quickly from Y/N, who called out, "Wait, Ame-!"

"Miss Rose, how wonderful to finally meet." Samuel interjected suddenly.

Y/N took a deep breath, spinning on her heel to face him. "Lord Golbach."

He raised a brow at her, "You know who I am."

"How could I mistake a face like yours for any other?" She replied with a sneer tone.

Sam sucked his teeth, her biting tongue captivating him immensely. Ladies hardly ever truly said how they were feeling around him, and it was refreshing to hear such honesty. "I would entertain that notion if Cole had not informed me of disclosing my identity to you."

Her smile dropped, "I would still be able to pick you out in any crowd, my Lord. I would just have to look for the trail of broken hearts and I would instantly find the two of you."

"My reputation makes me sound harsh." He deadpanned.

She held back the urge to roll her eyes, "I think you and Cole are, in fact, harsh. Reputation or not."

A playful grin rose on Sam's face as he reached out his hand towards Y/N. "Dance with me, Miss Rose."

"And if I say no?" She responded defiantly.

"I will leave you be," he answered. "But what fun you will miss, declining a dance from a gentleman whom you have already passed judgment upon."

She was surprised by Sam's charisma, his almost flirty nature. She politely took his hand, allowing him to guide her onto the dancefloor. Bowing, she steadied herself.. She was not used to this attention, especially from such desirable gentlemen. She knew deep down she shouldn't like teasing the Lords, but part of her enjoyed knowing they found her coveted.

He gazed down at her, inspecting her. "Your gown is quite suitable. You must come from a high ranking family."

"Thank you," she replied plainly. "And yes, some would say that. It helps that I am acquainted with the modiste in town, as well."

"Really? Not many are like you in that way. I've always found it odd how the higher ranking families in the Ton look down upon the working class." Sam admitted.

Y/N nodded, "Truly. It is such a pity. They are no different than us, the only major thing is that we were born into wealth."

"We are all human, after all." He concurred.

"Respecting our fellow man and cherishing the relationships we have and can make should be number one priority. It's a shame how many in the Ton don't see that." She remarked.

Samuel raised his eyebrows, spinning the young lady in time with the music. "You are one of the only women to think so. Many I have courted never spoke of such qualities."

She could feel her skin grow warmer with annoyance, "Interestingly, my beliefs stem from other women I've had the pleasure of knowing. How often do you ask any? Or do you merely go off of appearances and assumptions alone?"

His face dropped, a bitter smile resting on his mouth. "You and I must be similar in that regard."

"Possibly, yes. However, you are the one with a reputation of casting aside women you don't deem fit enough to be courted." Y/N argued, glaring.

He scoffed, "My apologies for having-"

She interjected, "High standards. Yes, I know."

The dance slowly began to end, her grip falling limp in Sam's hold. An anger unlike Y/N had ever felt was bubbling inside of her. Her grace and dignity almost flying out the window when she looked up at Sam, who seemed perplexed by her words. "I thank you for proving my assertions correct."

"And what exactly where they?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Your character is sorely lacking, and I will never want to court or be married to a man like that." Y/N spun on her heel, pure fire filling her veins. She ought to not have become so agitated, but she was unable to restrain herself. While both men played innocent and kind to her face, she knew of how mean they spoke of her mere hours ago. The sole reason they were like this was because of their ignorance of her identity. She had been taught her whole life to be respectful, to both men and women, no matter what ranking they were. And to see such blatant disrespect come from such a high caliber of men in the Ton infuriated her to no end.

This is who was supposed to be the aspiring husbands in the marriage mart? Being a spinster did not sound too bad after all.

Y/N wanted to find Amelia, but decided against staying in the ballroom. She ventured off to the entrance, standing at the portrait. She paced for a moment, trying to calm her nerves. She heard footsteps coming from the ballroom, expecting Amelia to be following her. But two men walked through, Samuel and Cole.

Her eyes widened as she watched them search for her. She rushed up the stairs, finding the closest room and hiding inside of it. It was a study, most likely Viscount Gillingham's. She closed the door swiftly, praying they hadn't seen her do so. She scanned the room, her eyes landing on the window. Fresh air sounded absolutely wonderful to her. She walked over to the window, attempting to open it.

The door swung open, Sam and Cole staring at her quizzically. "What do you plan to do? Shimmy down the garden wall?"

She huffed, turning to the gentlemen. "Do you take pride in stalking ladies or is that just an extracurricular for you both?"

"You have a surprisingly mean spirit for a lady. You must have suitors lining the street waiting for your hand." Cole sassed, stepping into the room.

"Well, as long as you both aren't in line, I shall have decent prospects." Y/N sniveled.

Samuel ranted, "Pray, what precisely is your objection to us? You do not resemble any woman we've previously courted. Why do you harbor resentment?"

"I do not have to have been courted by you to dislike you, Lord Golbach. Perhaps I find your inability to care for a woman's heart atrocious and that alone sparked my malicious feelings." She rebutted, her hands firmly on her hips.

"Did we hurt a sister of yours? Perhaps a friend." Cole responded, almost in jest.

She shook her head heatedly. "No. No. As humorously as that would be, you hurt mine without ever courting me. So congratulations are in order for that feat."

Both of the gentlemen's faces dropped, annoyed. "How?"

"I overheard you, today, at the park. Along with your friend Beaumont. You all had such a delightful time picking apart different women, none of which measured up to your standards for one reason or another." She spat.

Cole shook his head, almost trying to reset his vision. "A-And what is wrong with having standards?"

"There is nothing wrong with that," Y/N grunted. "The problem lies in how you go about finding those standards. Let's not play foolish here: you both know how sought after you are. And you also know that you most likely won't be finding a match anytime soon. So why be out in society?"

Sam’s eyes rolled for a moment. "Are we not permitted to partake in revelry?"

"You can, but not at the expense of women's hearts or reputations!" Her voice boomed off the walls of the study. The room fell silent, the men watching her with wide eyes.

She continued passionately. "Do you know how completely ignorant it is to badmouth a woman to one of your fellow gentlemen? It is already hard enough as a lady to find a suitable husband when you have every other lady fighting for said affections. But to have fellow men berate and downgrade you as if you are a second-prized poodle is humiliating. Because if you two think that way about me, how else do the other men of the Ton feel? How am I supposed to navigate a labyrinth I had no realization I was in?"

Both men were stunned into silence, but finally Cole spoke. "We should be wiser with our words, yes. But it's not exactly easy for us, either."

"Oh please." She murmured, exhausted.

He moved towards her, shaking his head. "We are told to act a certain way, to be men. The rakish behavior we have to put on is all but a front. At least for him and I. It is exhausting wanting to be open and vulnerable and honest when no one reciprocates those feelings back. So it's easier to put up walls and guard yourself and pretend to be something you're not. But in the end it all hurts the same."

"But you're a man. And not just any one, a prominent one. You could..." Y/N exhaled. "Change what is expected."

"It is not that simple. And it's already a lonely road for those that do not follow what is to be asked of you." Cole paused, swallowing. "I often wonder if a love match is something I will ever find, or if I'm doomed to face a marriage with a woman that is a complete stranger to me for the rest of my days."

She frowned, "Find someone to love, then."

Cole bit his lip harshly, holding back his hurt, "I wish I could. I wish my family would allow that. There are certain expectations I've been destined to meet since birth that I wish I could shake. But it's not as simple as it sounds."

Y/N looked towards Sam, "And what about you?"

"I... I don't know how to express myself. At all," he muttered, stoic and awkward. "This life of mine is not even remotely fulfilling. And I am afraid I am wasting it being someone I never wished to be."

For a moment, Y/N's heart ached for both gentlemen. She stared at them, and they were no longer men, but boys. And for the first time in years, when she expressed exactly how she felt without fear of rejection, she felt like a girl again. The brutal honesty of being a child with no expectations placed.

"I apologize for being so… careless." Her demeanor softened, "Maybe I shouldn’t have assumed so harshly.."

"No. Your honesty is refreshing. I don't think anyone has called us out in years." Samuel commented.

Cole smirked, "Or ever, really."

She giggled, and genuinely smiled, for the first time all night. They smiled back, their grins earnest.

"You have the sweetest of laughs. Almost like honey." Samuel complimented.

She bowed her head, doing her best to hide her blush. "T-That is very kind of you to say, my Lord."

Cole chimed in, the men sharing a look. "May I ask you a question, Miss Rose?"

Y/N nodded, watching them as they drew closer to her.

"Would it be alright if I call upon you tomorrow?" He asked.

Samuel added, "I too, would wish to do that, as well."

Her eyes widened, "I beg your pardon?"

"You are merely unlike any lady I have ever encountered. Unlike any we have met before. And I am certain that both of us would cherish the opportunity to become better acquainted with you." Cole explained genuinely.

"Even after I've insulted you to your face?" She sassed.

"Even more so, yes." Samuel's eyes glimmered mischievously.

Y/N questioned, "Are you sure that would be wise?"

"I would say it's about as wise as you being in a room, alone, with the two of us. Unchaperoned." Cole's voice deepened, causing Y/N's eyes to flutter.

Y/N suddenly became very aware of how close the Lords were to her. Her lips parted, wanting to gasp, but she was rendered speechless. She glanced between the two of them, watching as the space between them and her came to an almost close. Her back was up against the window sill, and she could feel the heat of Sam and Cole's bodies rolling off onto hers.

She closed her eyes tightly, savoring the moment. This was her first time truly feeling stirred by the presence of a man. Multiple men.

"But you are gentlemen." She choked out.

His eyes darkened. "Of course. We would never do anything untoward an honorable young lady, like yourself."

"All you have to do is say so, and we'll stop." Sam uttered huskily.

Cole spun Y/N to face him, her mouth falling open in surprise. He stared at her devilishly, his eyes taking in every part of her slowly. A breath blew across the back of Y/N's neck, startling her. She glanced over her shoulder through hooded eyes to see Sam, closing the space between her and him. His mouth danced up her neck, stopping right under her ear.

"Do you want us to stop?" Cole whispered softly.

Y/N shuddered a breath, his hands cupping her waist as he stepped closer to her. His mouth was on the other side of her neck, peppering light kisses up and down her throat. Y/N closed her eyes, her chest heaving as her breath fought to catch up. Y/N had had one kiss before in her entire life, right before coming out into society. And she had heard whispers of what... intimacy, between a man and woman was like.

But this was a whole new world for her.

Heat pooled low in her stomach as the men traced their lips over her skin, breathing her in. Sam's hands rested lightly on her lower back, tracing up and down her corset lining. Cole's hands rubbed up and down her bare arms, goosebumps rising in their wake.

Their bodies were firm up against hers. It was almost like a waltz the way the Lords' movements guided her. She was entranced by it all, following their every direction. Then, suddenly it hit her.

She won. And not only did she win, but the clock was very close to midnight. And it was time to leave.

Y/N took a deep breath, something she felt she hadn't done in ages, and slithered her way out from between each man.

"Well, gentlemen, this has been a lovely evening. But I must be getting home." Y/N stated calmly.

Both men were stunned into silence, again, by her. "Wh... What?"

"Did I say something surprising?" She gazed innocently at them, then headed towards the door.

Samuel and Cole stared at her in awe, an almost amused smile resting on their lips. She truly was incomparable.

As she opened the door to the study, Samuel called out, "You must tell us who you are, at the very least."

She paused, her hand resting on the handle. She had considered making her getaway, not letting them know who she was. But part of her wondered what their faces would look like once they knew it was her, Y/N, that left them this way. Hot and bothered.

She untied her mask slowly, holding it delicately in her hands. She turned back to the Lords, gazing at them both.

"Goodnight, Lord Golbach and Lord Brock. I hope you have a splendid evening." She bowed, and rushed out, taking the stairs quickly.

Sam and Cole stood in silence for a while, reliving the moments they had just shared with Y/N. Neither one could wrap their minds about what took place, or that it was Y/N - of all people - that had caused these feelings to occur. Feelings that both men had not experienced in a very long time, if ever.

Sam stuck his hand out to Cole, raising an eyebrow at him. "May the best man win."

Cole smirked, grasping his friend's hand tightly. "Indeed."

The gentlemen knew only one of them would win Y/N's heart. And now it was time to see who could ever conquer such a feat.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year

Note

AITA for being upset with my mother for making me change my clothes before my little sister's birthday party?

I (15f) own two tank top dresses that I got from Old Navy. One is like a blue tie-dye watercolor, and the other is a camo one. Now I rarely wear dresses because I like pants and shorts better, but I thought it'd be nice to "dress up" for my little sister's 10th birthday party. So, I decided to wear my camo one because I was told green is "my color" by multiple people, and the blue one reminds me too much of the 4th of July.

(Both of them are decent modest dresses, the length of the skirt goes below my knees, and the straps are at least two fingers wide. So it's nothing inappropriate for kids party or something like that)

So, I throw on the dress and a pair of jean shorts underneath so I can put my phone in my back pocket during the party, and go about my day.

(Now, before the story continues, it is important to note that I usually use my two dresses as nightgowns,

1. Because they're comfy

And 2. Because, again, I don't normally wear dresses during the day, preferring pants/shorts with a shirt instead.)

As the day goes on, my mother keeps saying I need to change out of my pj's and into something different, and I keep trying to tell her that I'm not wearing as a nightgown today but as a dress, but she keeps walking away before I can properly expain. This happens a few times throughout the morning, going into the afternoon. Until I'm helping out in the kitchen to help make food before all of the guests arrive.

And my mother asks "is that what you're wearing?" I answered "yes" and she just kind of looks me up and down and says something along the lines of " mmkay! I guess it just looks weird to me because Im used to you using it as a nightgown." Which I completely understand because I usually do, I just decided not to today.

I think the matter of my dress has been dropped and get back to cooking. While waiting for a pot of water boil, I stand next to a counter in the kitchen listening to my mom and a friend of hers who showed up early talk. But when my mom's friend turns away for second, my mom turns to me and says, "i really think you should go change before the other guests arrive. You look like you're wearing a nightgown" with a slightly disappointed look in her eye (which translates to 'you should be embarrassed of yourself, and I look kind of sloppy' in mom-speak).

And I'm a little taken a back by this and whisper "no it doesn't" feeling a but hurt, because I thought I actually looked kind of nice, and I usually dont thinnk that about myself. Plus, no one else had said anything, so I thought I looked fine to everyone else too, but apparently not?

My mom just kind of says, "mmkay" with the same disappointed look on her face and goes back to cooking. I just kind of stand there for a second, trying to figure out whether I should go change or not. And I being the people pleaser that I am obviously chooses the former, and goes to change asking my grandmother to watch the boiling water while I do so. Then I come back and get back to cooking.

While changing, I kind of teared up a bit and went on a mini rant in my head. My hurt morphing into anger at my mom, and her statement. And I'm not entirely sure why? And now I feel super guilty about being angry at her at all.

But, idk? I'm probably being over dramatic! Honestly, I think I just needed to get this out there since I obviously can't tell anyone. They'll just think it's stupid! (Which it is, lol)

So, AITA for feeling the way I did?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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asirensrage · 1 year

Note

"Nothing can keep us apart. I'll burn the world down if they try."

Okay, listen. I couldn't decide if I wanted to twist Gojo from JJK for this or do it for Dabi from MHA in prep for my fic with him. (Then I was even tempted to go with Mikey from Tokyo Revengers but I reminded myself that I am not at all caught up with that and it was a bad idea lol) So...I basically did neither and left it open to interpretation. (aka I left some hints that could refer to both of them but don't name names)

One of these days I will make a choice but it is not this day. I hope you like it.

Rating: M Warnings: obsession. mentioned violence and destruction. threats. ...sort of kidnapping? Darkfic! Un-beta'd.

In retrospect, you should have known better.

Your mother always told you that you were a magnet for trouble. You had laughed her off, waving away the awkwardness of the truth of that statement. It wasn’t that you were a magnet for it, you just tended to act without thinking sometimes and that was what got you in trouble. Luckily, you also were often able to charm your way out of it, but she had warned you that one day it wouldn’t work. You had promised her to do better, to be careful.

She was right.

You ducked into another small shop. You were just trying to buy some time until your friend showed up with the train tickets. You needed to get out of this place and fast. Before he found you. And he would if you weren’t careful. He seemed to have some sixth sense when it came to you.

When you met, he was charming in his own weird way. You had laughed off his flirtations, not taking him seriously even though you caught the way others had watched your interactions. It wasn’t serious. It couldn’t be. Not when he was who he was and you were…you. Exceedingly average in comparison to the people he surrounded himself with. And that was fine. You liked your life and you were well aware that meeting him in the first place was a complete happenstance. It didn’t mean anything.

Except that it did. To him.

You don’t know if it was the casual way you treated him, ignoring the features and abilities that everyone else focused on, or if there was something else you missed. It didn’t matter. He had decided that the two of you were meant to be, that you were destined to be at his side through it all. When you laughed it off, which you really needed to stop doing considering how much things were coming to bite you in the ass, he was unimpressed. He promised he’d prove it. He’d make you understand. It was the first warning.

It got complicated from there.

He’d show up whenever you were out with friends. Not always coming over to interact, but enough to make you aware of his presence. You’d feel his stare on you and if anyone tried to hit on you, the moment your back was turned, they’d disappear. Sometimes you’d see them leave, not giving you another glance. He always took the opportunity to present himself, to grin at you and offer to take you home. You never took him up on it, aware that you’d never make it to your home. He’d take you to his, fingers brushing against your skin as he’d give promises to make you feel good if you just said yes, let him in. If you did that, he’d never let you go.

It got worse when you were approached by those attempting to corral him, wanting to use you as bait, as coercion, wanting you to manipulate him to their desires. When you refused, suddenly you found yourself out of a job. Your boss gave no warning, no explanation but you had a feeling that it was because of that. They had retaliated to your denial. At least he only scared others off and tried to sway you.

When he found out though?

You thought you knew destruction before. You had seen it on the news, but it was always something distant. Close but not really in your backyard. It was never something that you felt you really needed to worry about. Until you heard about what was destroyed and you knew.

He couldn’t stay away and when you questioned it, he just grinned. “I did it for you,” he said. “Told you I’d protect you.” It sent chills down your spine. Another warning.

You barely even packed a bag. You couldn’t use your own accounts, something in the back of your mind suggesting he had someone watching them. You asked one of the few friends you had left for help. They had seen the way he looked at you. They agreed with ease, promising to meet you with tickets to get you out. Preferably out of the country but you’d take what you could get. Any space would be worth it.

The bell above the door rings and you duck behind a shelf automatically. It’s stupid, but your mother’s words echo in your head and you can’t help but be nervous. No one knows where you are except your friend and even then, they only know the meeting place. It’s fine, you tell yourself. You’ll be long gone soon.

“Boo.”

You nearly jump out of your skin, spinning to see him standing behind you. His eyes seem to light up at your reaction. His hands are shoved in his pockets but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous. You’ve seen how fast he can react when he wants to.

“Wha-what are you doing here?” You stumble back slightly, trying to increase the space between you.

He tilts his head, looking at you. “What do you think?”

“Shopping?” You wince even as you say it. It’s not true just because you hope it is.

“Where were you going?” he asks. There’s no amusement in his expression. Instead, you see the same threat that was there when he told you what he did to the people who wanted to use you against him.

“Nowhere.”

“No? So you aren’t supposed to meet up with what’s their name in twenty minutes?”

You stiffen. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs. “Not yet at least. That depends on you.”

You glance around but the shop seems suddenly empty and the cashier is gone. You’re left alone with him. “What do you mean?”

“I told you, didn’t I? I said I’d protect you, that I’d take care of you because you’re mine. We’re in this together.”

You step back, shaking your head but he moves forward, cornering you against one of the shelves.

He bends down, lips brushing against your cheek. “You’re not leaving me. Nothing can keep us apart. I’ll burn the world down if they try.” He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. “That includes your friend. So what’s your choice? You going to finally come home?”

You swallow tightly. You know what he’s capable of. He wouldn’t make a threat he’s not willing to stand by. “Yeah,” you say softly, giving in. “I’m ready.”

He grins before leaning in, mouth pressing against yours. His hand goes to the back of your neck, tilting your head slightly so he can deepen the kiss. You let yourself fall into it. It's demanding and hard but it draws you in further with every movement and taste of him. When he finally breaks, when you’re both breathing heavily and desperate for air, he nods. “Finally.” He takes your hand and leads you from the shop, away from where you were supposed to meet your friend.

Obsession Prompts

#dark drabble #rey of luke #I can't decide on pairing so choose who you want #unnamed characters #dark!gojo x reader #dabi x reader #tagging it those because they were originally part of the plan

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yakuzacanons · 1 year

Note

mama <3

Majima with a crush who has a personality that reminds him a lot of Makoto. Just overall the same innocence, softness, and fragility. 👁️👁️ Can't hold a grudge, can't hurt a fly, literally never gets angry, cries a lot, and is super caring of him 😭 They're in a "situationship" if u will, bc they're both clearly in love with one another BUT NO ONE IS SAYING ANYTHING ABOUT IT BC THEY BOTH HAVE TRASH EXPERIENCES WITH ROMANCE

"Goro, i got u this crucifix so the Lord can protect u on ur errands."

Hehe yesssss brain go brr. Also, as a note, I'm going to switch it from a crucifix to an amulet as I want everyone to enjoy these headcanons and I don't want it to just be specific to one religion. Amulet charms are a pretty common thing in Asia so hopefully that switch isn't too jarring for you (I have a couple of them myself, mostly for luck at school when I was still in college lol). Anyways, details below the cut!

It makes sense for Majima to have a partner that is actually the opposite of him. In fact, it suits him and he really likes it. Is he just projecting his feelings for Makoto? He'll never tell so don't ask.

Truthfully, he knows the answer is totally yes. Makoto wasn't his first love but it was definitely...something. Meeting you reminded him not necessarily of Makoto but the way it felt to actually feel something about someone else. Majima's no stranger to flashbacks or daydreams about what used to be Makoto but with you, it's different. You don't remind him of her; you remind him of fond memories.

Majima isn't great at hiding his curiosity and he starts coming onto you pretty quickly. It happens so fast that you both declare it to be a situationship more than anything, but anyone who has ever seen the two of you together can see right through your act. The truth is that both of you want to take the plunge but are just too shy to take the first step. The both of you find yourself in "No, YOU hang up first" situations way too often.

Eventually, Majima's feelings evolve from nostalgia to just having actual attachment to you. He's not getting a hit of what used to be anymore, now it's transformed into something he wants to happen. Because of this, he slowly starts opening up. He lets you baby him, he doesn't deflect as much when you ask how he's doing, he starts wishing you good mornings and good nights. It's surprising to him just as much as it is to you.

Majima knows you have your own history to deal with. Both of you actually feel a little relaxed knowing that there's a mutual understanding of what it's like to go through those difficult experiences. Slowly but surely, you find yourself no longer as lonely on those nights when the memories are just too heavy to bear. Instead, you find yourself sitting next to Majima, his arm wrapped around you, telling you he understands and for once it doesn't feel like a hollow statement said out of pity because you know it's true; he DOES understand.

Even though you don't have an official relationship label, the two of you have fallen into the habit of functioning like longtime lovers. It's the little things: good mornings and good nights, asking Majima if he's eaten yet, him asking you if you slept well. He comes to you on his hardest days, knowing he can be safe with you, that you'd never judge him, never yell at him.

On the flip side, he thinks it's totally adorable when you cry, which you do easily. It's not that you're actually sad, you just have a big heart. You see a mom and daughter out together and you get a little misty eyed at how cute they are. At a cat cafe, you cry from happiness. Sappy movies make you sob. Majima might tease you but in reality, he admires how tender your heart is. He thinks being vulnerable is actually the greatest strength of all.

Majima loves how doting you are. You're very much a look-both-ways-before-crossing-the-street person whereas Majima isn't and his heart skips a beat when you say things like "Watch your step" or "Be careful". No one's ever thought Majima was delicate by any means and because of it, he's felt he's had to appear invincible. Majima's always had something to lose but he never imagined he'd be something that someone else was afraid to lose. It warms his heart to the point he could cry but he won't, instead he'll just shower you with kisses.

One of Majima's favorite memories is when you gave him that protection amulet. At first, Majima was confused, saying "Oi, what's this 'bout?" but you insisted, saying "Goro, I got you this so I know you're protected wherever you go." and that's when Majima realized just how serious you were about him and how serious he was about you. Now, he carries the charm with him everywhere, feeling for it in his pocket whenever he feels unsteady or scared, knowing he's got you to fight for, to look after, to come back to.

#yakuza #yakuza headcanons #yakuza imagines #ryu ga gotoku #ryu ga gotoku headcanons #ryu ga gotoku imagines #majima megaphone moment #goro majima #majima goro #imagines #headcanons

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bonny-kookoo · 3 years

Text

Sing to me: JJK x Reader 🔞

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Mermaid AU, Siren!Jungkook, Prince!Jungkook, homeless!Reader, Romance, Smut duh

Wordcount: 5k (medium)

Tags/Warnings: okay so, spoiled kook, possessive kook, Theres literally an attempted murder lol, drowning? whoops, blood oh no, reader is hella fucking dense ok, biting, courting lol, fish boy is in love, whoops, anyways we got sexy times too, because in this AU fishboy got legs n all of that hah, unprotected sex because, guys pls this ain't supposed to he realistic, wrap it before you tap it folks, its also not all that filthy lol, blink and you'll miss the scene, honestly I didn't include much smut because yall nasty so you will ask for dirty drabbles anyways, not that I mind lol, k I'm done I think, wow mom I've sinned less than usual..

Summary: Help me love myself, and I might learn to love you as well.

Or alternatively: you save Jungkook from being killed, and he totally gets the wrong signals. But he's cute, so its fine. Probably.

Jungkook is floating.

He thinks about what lies above the waves, and cant think of anything he really finds interesting. The surface is littered in junk, in things humans leave behind without thinking twice about it. It's air is thick and stuffy, hard to breathe and never clear at all. It's crowded, with creatures who at the end of the day all look the same in his eyes. There's nothing exciting about the world people walk on.

Its boring, and dirty.

His own home is, compared to that, a kingdom radiating like the moon itself. It shines and sparkles, and harbors some of the most beautiful creatures ever to be found. He and his family, as well as everyone else, live in peace with nature down underneath the waves, existing side by side instead of trying to gain the upper hand all the time.

And he's reminded of the cruelty of man, when he finds himself caught in a net.

He's somehow made the fishermen drop it instead of pulling him up on their boat. But that doesn't mean he's free- he's still struggling with it, fighting it, but he cant rip it apart. All he does really, is tie the knots tighter, have them dig into his skin until spots are rubbed raw. He can't really swim anywhere at this point, gives up as he can see the last lights of his distant home fade into the distance.

Jungkook is floating.

He's slowly being led by the waves, by the love of wind and waters, as he closes his eyes. Its a pity, really; for a prince held so high to die by the mere hands of the poor, he thinks. It's upsetting him, very much so, but he takes it as it is. There's nothing he can do anyways, as he slowly comes into contact with the sand below. It washes him up onto short, the dry sand sticking to his body, waves pushing him higher and higher onto the ground.

He shivers, the cold outside air biting at his skin now unsheltered and defenseless.

He doesn't know how long he lays there.

But at some point, steps are heard on the sand. He keeps his eyes closed, doesn't care about what will happen next- he really just wants to have it be over by now, the ropes already painfully burning his skin at certain spots. He's sure theres sand in his wounds as something touches him- warm fingers, hesitant, and almost shy.

He keeps his eyes closed.

"My god, I hate humans.." You mutter under your breath, your voice hitting his ears, making him notice the way it sounds. He thinks it sounds very similar to some of his kind; sirens being blessed with voices sweet and enchanting. Maybe you were one of the strays who had decided to live on the surface for some reason? But your smell was entirely human, although much sweeter and pleasant than anyone he'd met before. And then, after a small short moment of pain-

He's free.

His arms flop to his side, and he breathes in deeply- finally able to fully move again. His eyes open, and adjust to the night for a moment, before they meet yours.

How interesting.

"Jungkook?" Jimin asks him, curious to what has gotten the young Siren so occupied. Typically, Jungkook would be watching the annual kingdom dances with at least some form of interest; even if it was just a glimpse of it, just to make his parents worry less about him misbehaving. But today, as the graceful dancers move around to the orchestra playing, the young prince is absolutely not there. At least not mentally. "Jungkook." The older one scolds, getting Jungkooks attention- his gaze hard and annoyed. "Please, young prince- at least try to pretend you're interested. This is after all part of our culture." He strategically uses his title as teasing- something which makes Jungkook snort without any fun.

"I really don't want to be here." He explains, and Jimin sighs. "I'd rather be at the surface.." He mumbles, being careful not to be too loud- but Jimin does pick it up, and so does his partner, Taehyung, next to him- now leaning a bit forward to hear better.

"Oh?" Jimin asks. "What could be of interest there, I wonder?" He teases, and Jungkook grows even more irritated.

"Nothing that should interest a whore like you." He says harshly, though Jimin knows he means no harm with it. Jimin is, after all, a man who enjoys the simple pleasures in life- which is why he can't quite grasp why Jungkook, a young man in his prime like himself, doesn't seem to care about whats going on around him.

"Hm, but I think she must be absolutely divine if you're willing to risk the wrath of your own mother just to see her." He says, and Taehyung snickers next to him, clearly amused.

But to both of their surprise, Jungkook grows.. calm. Theres even a glimpse of a smile on his lip as he rests his head on his head, elbow on the armrest of his throne. "That she is." He says, quietly, as he watches the young woman in front of him. He has to imagine you there instead, moving oh so gracefully to the sounds of his Kingdom's greatest musicians- dressed in the most beautiful gown he'd gift you. "That she is.." He repeats, a dreaming look on his face that Jimin has not seen before.

Jungkook watches you.

He enjoys watching you on your daily trips to the beach, picking up cans and bottles, and other things people throw away without care. You're cleaning up the beach, and he thinks its a very good behavior- he likes the way you always carefully scan the ground and sides for any garbage. He swims a little closer as he spots you squatting down; eyes lighting up as you pick up a shell he'd personally not care much for. It's slightly pink- but nothing he hasn't seen in his life. They're so common, and he suddenly thinks that if this already makes you happy, what if he was to bring you something else? Something better, something more worth your attention?

He feels a rush of excitement.

Dashing into the opposite direction, he makes his way towards the ground below, eyes scanning the ground as he searches for something. He spots it after a few minutes of searching, but when he holds the pearl, he hesitates.

Its not enough.

No, that's not what you should get. He's only paying back his dept, yeah, that's what he's doing. But what if he was overdoing it by bringing you something too expensive or rare? No, he should be smart about it, yeah. Start small, and work your way up he thinks, as he takes the pearls he's collected while deep in thought, and pushes himself back to the top, swimming easily. He hopes you're still there-

And there you are, dipping your feet into the water.

He looks at what he can see; only able to see clearly underneath the waves rather than above. There's a bracelet hanging around your ankle, and it looks cheap, he thinks. It only helps him by giving him ideas for his next gifts- if you would accept his first, that is. He's never been rejected before, but then again, has always rejected instead. Nothing had interested him to the extend you did. Maybe you really were of his kind, secretly.

When he slowly brings his head up the waves, you don't get scared, or flinch. You simply look, spot him, and smile.

He likes that expression.

He comes closer, free hand helping him onto the stone you sit on, his hand holding your gift eagerly pushing against yours. You understand quickly, and open them, and he smiles. You're smart, he notes, and it only adds to your qualities, he thinks. Dropping the pearls, your eyes sparkle again- as they should, he thinks with pride. You inspect them with big eyes, as if you've never seen something alike. He enjoys your reaction- and you nod at him. "Thank you- are they for me to keep?" You ask, pointing to them, and then at your chest. He's not fully fluent in human language, but has picked up on some words and phrases, since Seokjin had recently strayed- teaching him some stuff whenever he got bored and visited his younger brother.

So Jungkook nods. "You." He says, and you like the sound of his voice; fittingly just as handsome as the rest of him, you think. But then again- his kind is known for its beauty and enchanting voices. "Keep." He tells you, pushing your closed palm a bit closer to your body as if to underline his statement. You think its cute, in a way.

"Okay." You say. "I'll keep them-?" You ask, and he doesn't understand, until you point to yourself, and say a name- yours, he supposes.

"Ah-" He starts, pointing to himself. "Jungkook. Jeon, Jungkook." He tells you, and you nod, smiling.

"It's nice to meet you, Jeon Jungkook." You smile, and he grins back, slightly sharpened canines in stark contrast with his bunny-like smile.

He thinks its nice to meet you too.

"But you're a witch, aren't you?" Jungkook argues, staring at Taehyung. "I thought you were all so capable." He challenges, and Taehyungs eyes darken- quite literally, since sea witches do technically have black eyes- but conceal them, as to not scare off people. He regains his composure however when Jimins hand lays on his shoulder.

"Now now, no need to become huffy." He says. "He didn't say he can't do it- he simply told you that its not that easy." He explains, and Jungkook sighs, rolling his eyes. Ever the spoiled prince, they think to themselves.

"I don't care about that." He states. "Can you do it, or can you not?" He asks, and Taehyung thinks for a moment.

"I.." He begins, before he sighs. "I can. But, there's a catch, Jungkook." He tells him, and this time, the youngest of the group seems just as serious as he listens. "I can't promise that.. the result will be what you will expect." He says.

"What do you mean?" Jungkook asks.

"There's a chance she won't survive it."

He doesn't think much about why you're so often sitting on that rocky structure close to the deep- he likes not having to get out of the water to be close to you. And you think, Jungkook is quite the interesting being.

He’s curious; that much you can tell. His hands rest on your knees, your toes sometimes brushing against his abdomen as he swims closer- face coming forward to properly look at you. His vision must be bad outside of the waters you assume, his brown eyes squinting in concentration until he huffs and let’s himself back into the waters. You chuckle, and simply take off your jacket, slipping into the water as well as you control your breath- his entire face brightening at your body now underwater in his world, finally clear to see for his eyes.

You’re pretty, he thinks, definitely prettier than any other human he’d encountered before. The clothes covering your breasts and private parts a bit dull and boring for his taste- but he’d change that soon. He smiles, happy, before holding up his finger as if to signal for you to wait before he swims away, elegantly and fast. You swim up to breath some air, catch your breath, until there’s a hand around your calf, holding, fingers running over the skin, signaling you to come down again. You follow his question, taking a deep breath to meet him underneath the surface; his excited hands wrapping something around your neck, before he swims in circles as if he’s suddenly got too much energy. You point to yourself, as if to ask if you can keep it- and he nods, wide eyes watching you with a smile that you can’t help but mirror.

You don't quite realize what he's doing.

He however thinks you know. You know that he's courting you, and you're interested in him. You know that he's just given you more than a simple gift. He only believes you're letting him work for it- something he happily does, taking on the challenge as always. He swims closer, holds your shoulders, as his eyes look into yours, his gaze happy and child-like almost. He's close to finally showing you affection- but you suddenly swim to the surface instead.

And even though he knows you only wanted to breathe, he can't help but feel slightly sour at the ruined moment.

"You're awfully happy these days." His mother says, watching her son in the gardens of the palace. "May I ask what has gotten you in such a bright mood?" She asks, and Jungkook doesn't quite know how to break it to her. He knows its not forbidden, knows it has, and does, happen each and every day it seems- but there's still fear inside of him. Theres still hesitation, even though he is not ashamed of what has happened- of what he has done. His mother however notices. "You know you can trust me, right?" She says, and he nods.

Its now or never.

"I've found a mate." He says, and his mother smiles warmly, holding his cheek as she kisses it in congratulation. "Its a human." He says, quietly, hurried- but his mother continues to smile.

"I have suspected as much." She states. "Your friend- Park Jimin- is not very good at talking quietly." She snickers, and Jungkook curses under his breath about how he wants to strangle him. Theres a huge weight lifted off of him however; finally having said it, made it very real to him, in a way- even though it was already.

Because, after all; you were wearing his kingdom's sigil around your neck already. He had claimed you.

He's restless the next time he swims to the shore to meet you again- eager to see you to give you the news of his family's acceptance.

You're late- later than usual, and his brows are furrowed, mood upset at your mannerism. You're usually always on time, always just as eager to see him he thinks- but this time, you're not there. After his anger however, he grows increasingly worried instead. What if something had happened to you instead? Oh what a bad person he would be to be mad at you for getting into an unfortunate situation. As guilt slowly makes his way into his body, claims his muscles, he moves to sit on the stone he usually finds you on. He tries to look around- rain on his skin making it possible to be out way more comfortably.

He spots movement above.

Theres a person he can't make out- throwing something off the cliff down into the sea, and Jungkook clicks his tongue in anger, already upset- but still curious on what it was the person had been so eager to discard. Typically, its tiny things or plastic he finds- but this is something else, he knows.

Underwater, he smells blood.

His pupils contract, eyes widening, as he spots the black bag slowly making its way to the bottom of the sea- red trail leading from it. Its not the blood however that makes him frantic- its the smell of it, of you, that stops his heart.

He gets you out the bag, his anger over the entire situation diminishing into nothing as he holds you close, eyes spotting the deep cut on your side, and the scratches on your face. Unsure where to bring you, he holds you close, brings you onto his back as one of his hands hold yours, your arms around his neck. He swims quickly to the only place he knows you can breathe.

The underwater cave is big enough for now, he thinks, as he brings your body onto the ground, out the water. He doesn't notice he's crying, doesn't quite speak, his native language of clicking sounds and little noises escaping him as he whines out for your attention, waiting for you to wake up somehow. He's been so invested in making you like him and accept him that he's got no idea what to do with a human. Are you cold? How can he warm you up? How does he stop bleeding wounds? How much can you bleed before you die? Are you already dying?

Jungkook doesn't know what to do. So he simply lays by your side, holding you close, in hopes his slightly higher body temperature can keep you warm.

"He's doing the best he can-" Jimin says, Seokjin next to Taehyung as they both lean over your body. Both witches are concentrated, already exhausted, but there's no way they're giving up on you now. Not only because you're important to Jungkook- but because no one deserves to simply die like this.

"I know, I know!" Jungkook huffs out, pupils turned into cat like slits- a clear sign of the absolute terror and chaos inside of him. "What if they're best isn't good enough? Jimin, I can't loose her, you don't understand-" He starts, but Jimin holds the younger one's shoulders, for the first time serious with him.

"I do." He glances at Taehyung. Jimin had saved Taehyung before as well- the young sea witch having been hit by a fisherman's harpoon years ago. Ever since then, Jimin had been attached to the witch like glue. "Trust me, I really do. And they're doing all they can to make sure she's going to be fine." He promises, and Jungkook nods.

All he can do is pray.

When you wake up, there's several things you notice.

First, you're alive. Having a raging headache, and your limbs and muscles feel horribly tender, but you're alive. There's also strings of rope tied to two rock formations acting like a clothing line, several blankets and clothes hanging from it. They don't look human-made to you- the fabrics and designs not something you would think of as regular. There's a bucket and several stained rags- now copper-brown with old blood. Its then that you look down, seeing your cut sewed shut.

You also notice its rather soft underneath you.

Its sheepskin laid over seaweed you notice- the whool soft and fluffy, and warm. Everything seems to be so thoughtfully placed, even some decorative items- you can spot fireflies casually sitting in a jar close by, and burned wood, probably to . Probably to make light during the night. You're tired however, so you simply lay down again. Quite honestly, surely you should fee worried about the situation- but then again, there was no one to miss you, no place you called your home anyways. No use in worrying- because deep down, you had your suspicion.

A Jungkook swims to the surface with the plastic box in his arms, he's careful not to throw it too hard onto the ground. As he steps out the water, he's sure to at least try and his his hands of most the water before he goes to check on the blankets he had brought this early morning. They've dried enough, he notices, and is glad about that, as he picks one up.

You don't have to be cold anymore, he thinks.

He's unnaturally careful for his typical character- his usual behavior quite the opposite as it was now. Now, he's making sure you're properly tucked in, as he notices your eyes watching him.

He freezes, for a moment.

Jungkook hasn't really thought much about what would happen if you were to wake up- after all, Seokjin had told him he was unsure if you were to wake up this early in the first place, and Taehyung didn't even know if you would wake up at all. He'd told his younger brother to be prepared for any reaction really; fear, confusion, maybe even anger. But you seem calm, curious even, and Jungkook decides to sit down in front of your face, waiting.

"You brought me here, right?" You ask, and he nods, eyes not leaving your form.

"You-.. hurt." He points to the spot where your wound had been. "Also hurt." His hand points to your head. "Brothers, helped." He informs you, and you smile, nodding at his words. He suddenly looks at the ground, mumbling. "I.. worried. Thought... you, dying." He tells you, and you sit up slowly again, keeping the blanket around your shoulders.

"I'm not dead though." You say, and he nods. "Thank you, Jungkook. Now we're even." You say, and he tilts his head in confusion- a mannerism you could only think of as cute. "I saved you- you saved me." You say, and he smiles, nodding.

"I-" He starts, leaning forward a bit, now way more energetic and lighthearted as before. "I- we-" He growls a little in frustration, and you cant help but giggle at his troubles- the chirps and clicks escaping him foreign- but somehow, they feel hazy, as if your mind knows the language, but has forgotten what it meant. He's trying so hard you notice, and appreciate. "You like here?" He asks, and points around. You nod, and he beams at you. "I made." He tells you, proudly so.

"I guessed as much. Its very thoughtful of you, thank you." You say, and he nods, happy you like what he did for you. Its not a permanent solution, obviously, but as soon as you're healed well enough, he already planned a new spot for you to come with him.

You just don't know it yet.

There's a weird feeling inside of you.

It's like homesickness, you think. Every time you look at the waters, you feel- sad? It's making you uneasy, and with every day passing by, it just gets worse and worse. But it's today, that you cant take it.

When you dip your legs into the water, it soothes an ache you can't recognize ever having. It helps your skin, it somehow feels as if you're breathing again. But It's not enough, you think- before you let yourself fall into the deep end.

You're floating.

It's like leaving a stuffy and crowded mall, just to stand in a park, fresh air after it had rained, and light breeze clearing your head. Everything is silent, but not at the same time- the water around you feeling as if you're being hugged, held. It makes you relax, makes you let go, makes you only exist for a moment.

You're floating.

And there's a sudden wave of realization that you're also breathing. There's no water in your lungs- or maybe there is, and you just don't feel it being there. Darkness surrounds you as you don't know where you are exactly- theres no telling where is where, no way to know if you're upright or not. Maybe you've died?

Did you drown?

If you did, it would explain Jungkook being there. He's swimming towards you with a face full of worry, as he grabs your wrist and holds you close. "I can't even let you out of my sight for a mere day it seems, my love." He sighs, and your eyes widen. Its almost comedic how his own do the same, focusing on your neck, as he touches.

You're sensitive, and shift away from his touch.

"It-" He starts, now holding your shoulders, as he begins to smile. "It worked! It really did- by the dragon kind, you look absolutely divine!" He laughs, and can't help but hold your hands, eyes roaming your appearance, as you don't quite get it- until you follow his gaze.

Just like him, there's fins now on the sides of your calfs, smaller ones on your ankles as well. Theres also ones decorating your outer forearms- they look like the ones you'd always see on goldfish as a kid. There's something alike to scales as well, but barely noticable. "I- what happened to me?" You ask, and Junkook smiles.

"You.. almost died." He admits, taking your hand and swimming to what you assume is back towards the cave. "You had been robbed during the day, and when I found you.. well, you know what happened." He says. "While you were asleep, we were thinking about what to do. There was no way you would survive as a human- so, a friend of mine- Taehyung- performed a ritual, together with Seokjin, my brother." He says. You finally spot light, glad to be able to have at least some form of orientation. "I'm glad you're adjusting so quickly, my love." He states, smiling at you.

You notice the petname again.

"Jungkook-" You start, as you both reach the cave again, sitting on the edge of where the ground of the cave meets the water. "Why are you.. calling me that?" You ask, and Jungkook seems confused.

"Why do you ask?" He questions. And you don't quite follow, until he continues. "You're my mate- I am only addressing you as such."

Your eyes widen. "Wait- we're-" You start, and its only then that it clicks in Jungkooks head.

"Oh." He says- the dissapointment bitter and evident in his voice. "You.. didn't know?" He asks, and you shake your head, unsure what he means. "I see.." He tells you, suddenly distant. "I.. will bring you breakfast tomorrow.. sleep well." He abruptly says, and before you can say anything, he's already gone.

What just happened?

"There you are!" A voice says, deeper than Jungkooks, but not unfamiliar. Taehyung had been visiting and bringing you food and nescessities ever since that talk with Jungkook. This time, however, Taehyung seems like he wants to say something. You look at him, silently urging him, and he sits down next to you, sighing.

"Does he hate me?" You ask, quietly, and Taehyung looks sad.

"He could never." He says. "He just.. didn't take the rejection well. He'll need time to come around. It won't take that much time- his mother is already trying to get a new partner for him." He explains, and your head whips around towards him. "I- you.. did reject him, right?" He asks, slowly. "You do.. not love him, right?" He urges again, and you groan suddenly, throwing your face into your hands.

"Oh my god I'm so stupid.." You say. "It all.. everything was so overwhelming, I didn't even notice what he was doing." You cry into your hands, as Taehyungs hand places itself onto your back, trying to soothe you. "I though.. especially after I found out about his status.." You mumble. "How could he want me?" You ask, and Taehyung sighs.

"Head up, little siren." He says. "He's still able to hear you sing, if you want to." He says, and you look at him.

"But how?" You say. "I have no idea where the kingdom, or anything really is. And he won't come see me until its too late." You say.

"Well-" Taehyung says, standing up, and holding out his hand. "-allow me to escort the future princess to her lover."

"How did you find me?" He simply asks, not turning around, as you float closer. "I'm sorry, but I still need time to.. get over-" He starts, but you don't let him finish, instead leaning into his back, your arms around his middle.

"I'm stupid." You say. "I'm really, really stupid." He shakes his head, but you continue. "Just because I didn't realize- doesn't mean that I don't feel anything for you." You say. "I just.. felt unworthy, I guess. Insignificant." You admit, and he turns around, holding your face in his hands.

"You really are not gifted with the mind of the dragons king, my love." He states teasingly, the glimmer in his eyes returning. "My status means nothing to me, if that meant I could not have you." He says, and you lean forward, capturing his lips. "I hope you know what this meant, at least." He teases, and your eyes widen, scared you might've done something wrong. "It means you love me." He says, and you chuckle.

"Good." You say. "Because I do."

Even though he thinks you looked like a goddess reborn in your white and pearl decorated gown from the wedding, he enjoys you without it, close to him, just as much. He's alive, he's feeling, he's in love, as his hands move over your skin, his senses filled with you and nothing else.

The sounds you make for him are sweeter than any siren's song he's ever heard or could ever sing himself. No member of his kind is as enchanting as you, he decides, as he bites and kisses the sensitive skin of your neck. Jimin had teased him relentlessly the entire evening and night by trying to send you sweet words, to which you didn't react- but that didn't mean that it didn't piss him off.

You were his.

His princess- and soon to be queen, one day.

And he's planning on making that very evident, as he marks up your skin with little bites, visible for everyone to see. He wants everyone to know, even though by tomorrow, the entire Kingdom will celebrate the marriage of its prince anyways. He's more than ready to show you off, to hold you close, to have people see the divine being at his side that's you.

It's only natural for his hands to roam your skin, for his lips to worhip every inch it seems, as you reach out for his hand every second it leaves you. It's painfully endearing he thinks, how you can be so innocent and pure, while he's between your legs, performing the sinful act of pleasuring you with his mouth.

You pull him towards you, as you straddle his waist, leaning down to kiss him. He's in god's divine lands he thinks, as he suddenly feels you sinking down on his awaiting length. You fit around him perfectly, more so than he could've ever imagined. And as you both move, he holds you close, happy that here, in his world, he doesn't need to breathe.

He can kiss you as long as he wants.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. I spilled strawberry milk on my poor laptop while writing this.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions #Sing To Me AU

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dreamrecorder · 4 years

Note

Ok so- idk if you’ve seen demon slayer;; but there’s this episode (it was during the spider fambam arc) aNywaYs- so like. Rui yeets ties* (i guess-) Nezuko like. Up in the air. With his weird spider thread jazz— and like. It’s sHarP weird spider thread jazz— so she’s like. Yknow. Being sliced and diced with string— but it kindaaa reminds me of like. Xiao. And his like.... weird... sad.... uh. Karma. Thing. Like y’know where he’s like hanging from his arms- red stuff. Yeah. So like. Now for the actual request

Xiao’s s/o (female if you don’t mind;;) gets kidnapped by like— the fatui or smth. And they tie her up like Nezuko :D to be like “lol haha Xiao be all like-” and she’s just. Like. Dying. Slowly. Dripping b l o o d and yknow. All the tea. And Xiao comes to rescue her— and he’s like 0-0 “wait...” and he realizes that’s like- exactly what happens to him- and so. He beats the fatui’s butts saves his s/o, anddddd she like.

Idk. This is where I need your angst expertise ❤️ like- she could d i e. In his arms. And poor Xiao would be so scarred omg poor thing- BUT THE ANGST- but at the same time;;;; the f l u f f of him being able to save her just in time and she was like fighting for him the whole time or whatever and ended up needing him to save her anyways- and then Xiao feeding her almond tofu until she gets better ❤️❤️❤️

IM SORRY THAT WAS SO LONG- im probably going crazy from lack of sleep from reading fics for too long sndndnsnsj

But if you do this,,, BLESS YOUR SOUL I HOPE TO EITHER BALL MY EYES OUT OR SQUEAL FROM THE WHOLESOMENESS-

Anyways.... thank you! Have a stellar day~ ✨❤️

The heart yearns and the wind heard

lmao this ask is so adorable i hope you’d enjoy this ksks

anyway, full Angst train up ahead but there are moments of Fluff too. There are mentions of blood and violence if those are not your thing- dont worry guys, this goes with a happy ending cos you and Xiao deserve one~ on a final note- non canon compliant and suuuuuuper long- like- legit this is very long

The Yaksha sighs.

He’s here again. His mind and heart has returned his being into this crimson world his demons have created within him.

He feels it. He feels the corruption binding him tighter again for every death he brings by his tainted hands.

He looks at his bindings. And ever so slowly, the red and black coiling around his person will eventually reach his heart.

One day, he thinks, all this crimson and black in this world will swallow him whole and he will see the light no more.

Xiao sighs again.

This is his karmic debt.

The moment you stepped foot within Wangshu Inn, you knew he was in his prison again. After giving a quick greeting to the inn keeper, you hastily went to Xiao’s room. The closer you got, the heavier the atmosphere became.

You reached his door and knocked softly. As expected, no reply as he continues to struggle to take back his control over himself. Without hesitation, you stepped in. To anyone else, they would have instantly met his spear at their throats, but with you, this doesn’t happen. Instead, you see him crouched on the wooden floor with a hand on his chest. His knuckles were white and his breathing was ragged. His amber eyes- lost. Observing his form, yes… his moments of corruption are becoming progressively worse.

With swift steps of familiarity to this routine, you went to him and grasped his shoulders.

“Xiao, it’s me…” You whispered with clarity. And oh- how your voice brought a wave of comfort to his soul.

“N-name…” His voice cracked, but him calling to you is always a good sign.

You gave him a small smile and proceeded to grasp his hands together with yours. After which, you then leaned your forehead to his to chant your prayers. As your prayers progressed, slowly but surely, the corruption begins to fade along with the black mist that covered him. However, you took note how this ritual took longer than the last.

Once everything is done, Xiao just slumped onto your shoulders, still breathing deeply. “How are you feeling?” It was a useless question you asked every time this happens, but you always, always, have to make sure.

Usually, he would mutter a small ‘fine,’ but now- words seemed to have left his mind and all he could muster was an almost-unnoticeable shrug.

Truth be told- his response disheartened you, but you did not show it. Instead, you opted to simply encase him in your arms and caress his hair. After all, these are just one of the few, rare moments Xiao would leave himself into your care. Xiao is aware, himself, that his state has been becoming worse and worse. And you both know, that a day would come when he would just attack anyone- friend or foe- without a trace of hesitation. So, just this time- he speaks his feelings.

“Name?”

You answered immediately with a questioning hum.

“What would you do… when I finally lose control over myself?”

It was very subtle, but he felt how your hand stopped caressing his hair for a second, then proceeded to the previous task at hand again. In all honestly, you can never find yourself having an answer to that question. “And why would I ever let that happen to you?” You questioned back, fully aware that you were dodging his question.

Silence surrounded the two of you, unsure on what to do with the sudden heavier atmosphere.

Not wanting to face the cruelty of the world yet, Xiao simply buried himself on the crook of your neck even more. And despite the ghostly sensation of his lips on your skin, you could feel him mouth the words ‘I love you.’

“As long as I’m here,” you whispered, “nothing can hurt you.” And that was the most beautiful lie that the Yaksha has heard, but he was willing to believe all the same.

When word about Fatui diplomats starting a bank reached you, there was a nagging feeling in your head that trouble would bring itself present anytime soon. It was like an itch that wouldn’t get away. And the only way to have that itch gone is to scratch it.

“You are absolutely a fool.” Xiao stated darkly with crossed arms, for once disagreeing with the plans of his master.

“We can never know what their intentions are unless we let them start their bank, no?” Zhongli said as he gazed at the marsh spread beneath him.

The Yaksha only scoffed but said no more.

Building up your courage, you deemed it was your turn to voice out your thoughts, “Um… Rex Lapis, I see your point, but wouldn’t it be best to resolve the problem before it persists into something larger? We all know- All of Teyvat knows, that the Fatui are not to be trusted.”

Your archon offered you a kind smile, “I understand your worries, Name. However, as of the moment, they have not presented themselves as such. If they truly are our enemies, then it would be beneficial for us to know their intentions.”

You frowned deeply at his statement. Seeing you do so, somehow, your archon immediately identified your main concern.

“Is this about the Tianquan assigning you to be her representative for the Fatui?”

The moment those words left his mouth, a growl tore from Xiao’s throat, but he held his tongue.

“Did Ganyu tell you?”

The Archon nodded and you sighed.

“I volunteered, actually.”

And at that point, Xiao vanished into thin hair, but you could still his sense his presence around.

“May I know why?” Zhongli questioned gently.

For a moment, you struggled for words. You didn’t know how to describe this ‘itch’ to him. “At first, it was supposed to be Ganyu, since in the Tianquan’s eyes- Ganyu is an adeptus and she does not know that I am, too. Perhaps she didn’t want to put me in harm’s way, a ‘visionless human’ at the side of a harbinger. After some convincing to Ningguang for my volunteering, I spoke to Ganyu next.

“The adepti are divine beings that walk here in Liyue. I had this feeling that putting a divine next to a power-hungry harbinger would become an issue. I told Ganyu that, since I looked ‘harmless’ and ‘ordinary,’ the harbinger’s interest about the divine would never surface.”

A stretch of silence wrapped around them as Zhongli pondered over your words. “Perhaps, are you also planning to dig out the truth of their arrival?”

You nodded, “I knew you would allow them to stay, so I just took it upon myself to unfurl their secrets.”

“Hmmm… I grant you permission on doing this. However, should trouble arise, do not hesitate to tell us.”

The glare pointed at you was strong. Even without him saying a single word, you could hear his phantom voice in your head speak with such coldness, What are you thinking?

You simply gave him a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine, Xiao. I may be a human in mortal eyes, but please do remember that I am also an adeptus, no matter how weak I am.”

Xiao releases a huff, but still sits by your side at the floor of the balcony, letting the moon kiss his skin. “You’re not weak.” He mumbled as he snaked his hand to yours.

To him, you will never be weak. In fact, you were the strongest being he has ever laid his eyes on. Not physically, no. It was you mental and emotional fortitude. Back during the Archon War, he always admired how you kept your head held up high no matter the suffering you have experienced. No matter how much death surrounded you, you still fought. And that strength made you a survivor. During the war, you never failed to help the wounded. Even when someone dies under your care, you held strong for the departed and for those who are left behind. You were a pillar of hope.

He brings your hand to his lips and kisses every knuckle “… Just be careful. If ever you are in trouble do not-“

“Hesitate to call your name.” You finished, beaming at his words.

As someone who used to be a healer and a doctor, you were quite familiar with several mild skin diseases that mortals can suffer from.

If there is an itch, you do not scratch it- for you will only aggravate the area even more.

Now that you’re working alongside the Fatui as the Tianquan’s representative, the itch you kept feeling was only irritated more. Especially whenever you spoke with the Harbinger who goes by the name Childe. And since your work requires you to cooperate with him, you also don’t miss the chance to discover what he hides, should the opportunity presents itself.

Childe… his azure eyes certainly have their… charm to those unaware. However, you knew better. You know he’s capable of drowning you just by his eyes. While he may be a cheerful man, his eyes lack the lustre of joy. The eyes are the windows of the soul, yes? If so, all you see is an unending ocean that you do not want to swim in. The surface may be calm, but the deep is relentless. However, duty bound you are- deep within the ocean, you shall find the secrets the Fatui hides.

Again, another scratch to the itch, but it only irritates you more.

The news of Rex Lapis’s death became the catalyst of you confronting the Harbinger. From Yujeng Terrace all the way to Northland Bank, you ran (with Ningguang’s permission of course). Before you can even open the door to his office, something caught your eye.

It’s faint, but you’re an adeptus. You sensed elemental traces, just smack bang at the middle of the door. You carefully scrutinized the tracings, and fortunately you knew Snezhnayan script. And what you read only made your heart sink.

It’s ready.

With the adeptal arts, you managed to uncover the origins of these elemental tracings.

Scratch.

Without hesitation, you followed these tracings until it led you into some ruins.

Scratch.

Following the tracings further, you find yourself in a dimly lit room. Wary, you summoned your weapon imbued with your element.

Scratch.

Searching the room, you came across several antique boxes. You opened them.

Scratch.

What you saw were familiar. Too familiar. Dimming the room more with your element, you find more Sigils of Permission hanging on the walls and on the ceilings. The energy within them were faint, but with enough numbers, it’s enough to kill a-

“Well, well well, I thought you’d be there mourning for your Archon. But here you are, snooping around someone else’s research material.”

The sound of his voice made you sharply turn your head to him, your stance now more offensive. “What are you planning?” You bit coldly.

The Harbinger hummed a small tune, “Nothing much… But! If you’re really curious, I guess I could tell you.” He hummed some more but you knew he’s not finished. Once he finished his tune, he grinned to you menacingly and the depths in his eyes became even deeper and darker, “After all, I won’t let you leave this place with you knowing my secret~”

There was this one time, Xiao struggled against himself so much, he scratched himself red so that he could anchor himself back to the real world. You remembered how much you cried as he slept in your arms. You never wanted to see him do that again. Seeing him hurt himself also hurt you, too. It was like a stab in the heart, then a twist, and twist some more. A slap in the reality that you might lose him one day.

As he slept, you solemnly observed the wounds he sustained himself to. They were angry red, just like blood.

Now, you, yourself scratched that itch in your head too much into a wound for blood to seep through. You scratched too much and now you have to bleed from it.

You were slipping in and out of consciousness. Sleep was tempting you more and more but you know you have to wake up. You were aware that this is going on for days.

Everything hurts. You remembered how his blades, imbued with the Sigils, weakened you thoroughly. Every slash he brought to your body just drained the energy away from you. But still you had to do something.

He wanted an adeptus- he wanted an adeptus in order for the Sigils to grow stronger both in number and in power.

Now here you are, bound by chains and suspended at the middle of this empty room. These chains were adorned by talismans that drained away your energy. You were bleeding from your wounds of your previous battle.

Drip. Drip. Drip goes the blood and pools on the ground underneath you. The ground, you barely noticed, was lined by Liyuean script which enacts the ritual of the Sigils draining your divine power from your blood.

To the eyes of a sadist- you were a picture perfect in a canvas. A dark room lined by the damned Sigils, glowing an eerie gold. Then there's you with your bloodied clothes and chains. The red pool underneath was casting a red glow on your way, giving you a red shade to your pale skin.

Everything hurts-

And everything was driving you mad.

You can also feel the Overlord of the Vortex feed from your energy through the Sigils. You sensed his lust for power and revenge. You felt his anger and the corruption within him. You felt his hatred and his want to bring death. For days that felt like years, you’ve been battling against that very same god in your head. This battle was not something you shall not lose to and failure is not an option. If you fail here, then Liyue will fall.

This god- he was driving you mad slowly.

If ever you are in trouble, do not hesitate to call my-

You shut the thought from your head. You are not going to call him. You will not speak of him. You will not think of him. You will not call him. Not to this place where his corruption will grow. No. You Will Not Call Him.

If it means that me not calling you will keep you safe from the corrupted remnant of a god- so be it.

Please

However, no matter how much you denied yourself to call his name, no matter how much your heart yearns to be with him- the wind does not ignore the pained sob that left your lips.

Ever since the news of Rex Lapis's death and the visit of the Traveler with a Sigil in his hand- the corruption within him just bloomed into something feral.

The Sigil- there was something wrong about it but Xiao doesn't know what is it that is wrong. Then there's you- where are you? Surely with the news of their Archon's death- it would send you to bring forth a meeting for the adepti to talk this over. But now- for days- you remain not by his side.

With you missing- the demons inside him are slowly taking control over him, taking advantage of his vulnerability for you. For each passing day, it was slow torture for him- The worry bubbling in him was consuming him. He glared at the Sigil between his fingers and not failing to notice how his dark aura covers him once more.

“Traveler,” Xiao called sharply, “What is it you intend to do next?”

To any mere mortal, the look his eyes held were enough to strike fear, but the Traveler stealed themselves- meeting the adeptus’s gaze with an equally serious calm. “I have my suspicions on a certain harbinger and I-”

“Where?” The Yaksha growled.

“In the Golden House.”

Without a word nor warning, Xiao placed a hand on the Traveler’s shoulder and teleported them to the place where the Exuvia is hidden.

To the Traveler, everything happened so quickly as one event led to another. One moment, they were standing among unconscious bodies of the Millelith then the next thing they knew a corrupted and demonic gust of wind flew them away to the side. Regaining back their vision, they could see Alatus’s spear now at Tartaglia’s barrier made of Sigils.

Alatus narrowed his eyes at the floating talismans and began to calculate the flow of this incoming battle with precision and accuracy despite his losing control over himself.

It was a tense minute of sizing each other up, but eventually, Tartaglia has broken the silence with his annoying innocent voice.

“Who would have thought that I’d have the honor of fighting another adeptus of Liyue?”

The question immediately fed the corruption within him, the dark aura exploding at it. He knew that he should not believe in the Harbinger’s words so easily, but the glint in the latter’s eyes held truth. You could be out there, hurting, scared, alone. You could be out there, bleeding out. You could be out there dyi-

His aura exploded once more at the thoughts spreading in his being. With a burst of unspeakable power, Alatus lifted his weapon and pierced the barrier once more, this time breaking it without failure. At the threat, Tartaglia backed away as he donned his mask.

In a similar fashion, Alatus, too donned his mask. “I will ask you once,” the Conqueror of Demons spoke with a deathly calm, “Where is she?”

He should have killed him then and there. But the call of the Overlord of the Vortex must not be ignored as it threatens Liyue.

In the small opportunity of escape, Childe took it. But he was weak and injured as Alatus swiftly threw his spear to block his way and teleported right in front of him. In a show of power, the Conqueror of Demons lifted the mortal by the neck.

“I will ask you again, where is she?”

In fear, Childe told him everything and at his every word, Xiao listened carefully- never speaking once. But the anger within his heart, it boils- it rages. His amber eyes bored into Childe’s soul- thinking what he should do to this mortal. Oh how killing him would be so nice. However, when the Yaksha’s gaze landed on the regal form of the Exuvia, he merely threw the mortal in its way.

“Killing you would have been easier. However, the crimes you have presented against Liyue are not mine for me to judge.

I leave the Harbinger to you... Rex Lapis.”

Once out of the Golden House, the Overlord roared once more, shaking the lands of the nation. However, along with it, he heard the faintest of voices. I’m so sorry... I couldn’t hold him back anymore.

Only then did the demons in his heart freely took control of him. Just like the stories of old, where the Yaksha walks, death follows. But they were no stories. In his way towards the ruins where you were held captive, every step he took brought carnage and even more death and blood to taint his hands. No Fatui will leave this place alive. The very being of destruction ended many lives. Each death, the demons were growing stronger.

All he wanted now was to kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill killkillkill killkill kill killkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkill

Then seeing you suspended in the ceiling and bound by chains. Blood was painted on your lifeless skin. Wounds were littered and bruises were blooming on your form. But most of all, your eyes. What were once full of life and hope- now empty and blank. His demons quieted down.

Broken. You were like a broken porcelain doll.

“N-name...” His voice cracked, not believing it all.

With haste, he quickly broke your binds and caught you in his arms. he was fast to check for your pulse and your breathing. And thank the Archons, you were breathing but barely. You were now walking the line between life and death. With all his might yet a gentle caress, he hugged you for dear life. “Name... It’s me...”

But still, your eyes still held no recognition and it shattered his heart to pieces. With further inspection, he sensed the presence within you. A corruption. A certain evil.

“Name, stay with me please,” Xiao begged with desperation as he fought back tears. “It’s me who supposed to be the corrupted one between us, not you... I’m not allowing you to leave me, you hear me-”

With a ritual of the adeptal arts, he started purging and purifying the evil left by the god who fed from you. He is not letting you stay alone in your prison, not for a second longer.

Xiao prays and he never prayed before. Even to his master. But just this once, He prays with desperation. You are the light in his darkness. You are the moon in his night.

The ritual was a delicate process. For every word he spoke, he was rewarded by your screams of pain and the writhing of your fragile body. He wanted to stop, but he can’t. He had to physically restrain you from trying to escape from his embrace and from hurting yourself. And for every cry you released, Xiao merely shuts his eyes clos just for him not to see your pained eyes. Every now and then, Xiao speaks gentle apologies and words of encouragement for you. You were coming back. But still, the evil persists.

You writhed and scratched against him, until you were creating more wounds for blood to seep through. When it came to a point, you began pleading and begging for him to stop, that was when Xiao had shed a tear. So he continues the ritual, his prayers, and his apologies. They were arriving to a point where the ritual is reaching its conclusion but your screams only grew louder.

Please, just a little more...

Please, just stop...

Please...

The corruption disintegrated away from you in a forceful release of dark energy. He was breathing deeply, attempting to calm his loud heart. When he placed his gaze on you, you were breathing rapidly and your eyes were searching blindly and your hands were desperately holding onto him.

“X-Xiao...” You whispered, “Where am I? Where are you?”

With a sigh of relief, the Yaksha hugged you again closer and his forehead to yours, fearing you would go away again. The action made you lift your hands to his face, still searching blindly.

“I’m here, Name... I’m here.” At his voice, the dam in your eyes broke as you cried silently. Xiao was not adept in emotions, but for you, he will face them gladly. He lets you cry as he gives you soft whispers of assurance, safety, love, and promises. However, you were not crying because of what had happened to you. You were crying for him. After experiencing such corruption-

You sobbed some more- you were this close to him losing you and you could not bring yourself to imagine if your roles were reversed.

“P-please,” you said with a broken voice, “please don’t go to the place where I can’t follow...’

The words, at first puzzled him, but after a few moments, he realized and once more it broke his heart. Bringing you closer, Xiao let loose the tears he was holding back. With a gentleness unexpected of the Conqueror, he simply littered your face with kisses. “I promise if only you would do the same.”

With your smile that he loved dearly for so long you too spoke your promise, “I do.” They were simply two words, but the comfort they bring into the Yaksha’s heart was in volumes.

After that, you shared a few tender moments in each other’s arms. Simply relishing the feeling of their familiar warmth. A little later, Xiao spoke, “Would you like to eat some Almond Tofu once we get home?”

The question made you giggle at his innocence, so you agreed. Despite you needing physical medical attention. But Almond Tofu with him? Yes, you two definitely need some emotional healing.

A/N: fINALLY dONE lmao this was supposed to be short but angst really makes me want to write longer everytime haha~ anyway this request really made me ponder bout genshin stuff with all the corruption this and corruption that but then a question popped up like-

how did childe replicate the sigil of permission? since sigils are imbued with divine energy, i just thought how did this guy accumulate so much sigils to the point of freeing Osial- a god!!! soooo i just played with the idea for a bit then figured out maybe these pieces of paper get the divine energy from a divine source right? and the adepti are divine beings of liyue and another thing- you guys might have noticed the change of names in some scenes- i dont know but i think somehow different names represents different side of a person like- we have childe the cheerful harbinger then tartaglia the power hungry harbinger- there’s Alatus who’s calculating and cold, there’s the Conqueror of Demons who’s ruthless and unforgiving, then Xiao who is calm and humane- lastlyyyyy i might post this in ao3 ksks

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #xiao #genshin xiao #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #xiao genshin #xiao x reader #xiao imagines #zhongli #childe #ganyu #ningguang

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unbridgeabledistances · 4 years

Note

prompt: domestic gallavich/being intimate in a nonsexualway bc there’s like 3 weeks til the next episode 😐

your wish is my command, anon!<3 i decided to tie this into next ep bc i simply cannot HANDLE mickey’s outfit/big gay metamorphosis & i needed to create the scene that inspired it so i wrote this

a one-shot bridging 11x06 and 11x07 in which ian and mickey talk about “gay friends,” ripped jeans, and do a bit of processing along the way

tw for brief mention of homophobia/abuse (bc terry lol)

“How come we don’t have any, like, gay friends?”

Ian looked up from where he was laying on the ground, breathing heavily after a series of push-ups, a nightly routine that he was trying to keep intact even though he and Mickey were practically driving the entire circumference of Chicago every day to make weed deliveries from dawn til dusk, leaving them both exhausted. It had been a week since all the shit with Terry, and a month or so since he and Mickey had started the security gig; while months ago their evenings would be spent sitting side by side on the bed in a brittle silence while Ian read or scratched in his notebook and Mickey played games on his phone blasting at full volume in the pajamas he’d been wearing all day, these days the evenings in their bedroom were softer and warmer— like they were settling into the space together, like they were both on the same team instead of constantly clashing and butting heads while trapped in a too-small space. These days, after having dinner in the clamor of the crowded kitchen, he and Mickey would head upstairs and change out of their uniforms, and Ian would work out while Mickey mostly just lounged on the bed, sometimes making commentary and watching him bob up and down with a pensive smirk or scrolling through his phone.

But tonight, Mickey was quiet— his eyes flickered to the curves and edges of Ian’s torso every now and then as Ian broke a sweat, but otherwise he wasn’t playfully poking and prodding like usual.

Mickey had been a lot quieter in general this week, after all the stuff with Terry— Ian knew seeing the source of all of Mickey’s trauma in a wheelchair immobile from the neck down, the most vulnerable Terry could have been, felt worse than someone repeatedly twisting a knife in Mickey’s abdomen. But beyond the initial shock and the almost-murder and lugging him up the stairs, having Terry in a wheelchair twenty feet away did something deeper to Mickey. This whole situation shifted something solid that had been lodged in the pit of Mickey’s stomach for years— Ian could see it, and he fucking hated it. He hated Mickey’s glassy contemplative eyes as he looked out the car window while they drove to a new dropoff location, lost in his head when he thought Ian wasn’t looking. He hated the tightly wound tension between Mickey’s shoulder blades as he slept, curled into himself and twisted in the comforter, facing away from Ian on the other side of the bed. He hated the tight smiles Mickey gave him as he made some offhand joke about Terry when they could hear him cursing and shrieking through the open front windows, smiles that were trying to prove something outwardly but showed the barbed pain stinging at Mickey’s insides. Ian poured out what he could in soft touches, in skims of fingertips at the breakfast table and in an arm over Mickey’s waist while they slept; but he could only give as much as Mickey would take, and for most of the week Mickey had shut everyone out with iron walls.

Ian couldn’t imagine what was stirring in Mickey’s mind; he’d seen some of Mickey’s trauma firsthand, sure, and some of the stories about Terry came slipping through the cracks when Mickey’s guard was down— mostly on those late nights when they both couldn’t sleep and Mickey whispered into the crook of Ian’s neck as they were curled into each other, cradled in the dark silence of their bedroom. But Ian knew there was deeper shit that he hadn’t heard about, and he could see the constant fear of Mickey’s adolescence hanging heavy around his neck all these years later. But Mickey didn’t need anyone to push his walls down— Ian knew he’d open up when he was ready.

Which is why this random question, the most direct statement Mickey had really made to him all week, caught Ian off guard. He sat up, folding his arms over his legs and staring up at where Mickey was slouching on the bed, propped up by a pillow he’d shoved between his back and the wall. “Gay friends?” he asked, more than a little confused.

Mickey cleared his throat. “Yeah, gay friends, y’know. Like all your youth center queers that came to the wedding or whatever.” He suddenly looked down and picked at a fraying thread on his shirt sleeve, not meeting Ian’s eyes.

Ian raised an eyebrow in curiosity. This was random, sure, but Mickey wouldn’t have brought it up if something wasn’t weighing on him, bubbling up after all the events of this week.

“I don’t know— I guess since the pandemic and stuff, I haven’t really kept in touch with Geneva or any of those guys who came to our wedding. We only really talked after I got out of prison because of all the Gay Jesus publicity bullshit, but after you got out I wasn’t really thinking about that as much.”

Mickey blew out a breath, so quietly Ian barely noticed it. Ian stood, wiping his sweaty forehead and plopping down on the bed next to Mickey, folding his legs so their knees were almost touching— but still giving him space, still letting him breathe.

“Why’re you asking?”

“Don’t know, really. Just thinkin’.” Mickey picked at his shirt sleeve again, then flickered his gaze up to meet Ian’s eyes, two clear pools of glassy blue. “Thinkin’ about what life could’ve been like. If I wasn’t scared shitless of who I was for so long.”

Ian felt something twist in his gut, the same queasy pang of pain that always resurfaced whenever he saw Mickey like this, whenever he was reminded of all the unspeakable agony that Terry had put him through.

“It’s fucked up that you didn’t get to be who you were for so long, Mick,” he breathed, knowing that statement didn’t cover the amount of things that were fucked up about this situation.

Mickey ran his teeth over his bottom lip, like he was concentrating. “Yeah.”

Ian let them sit there for a second. It seemed like Mickey wanted to say more, but something in him was frozen solid. After a moment, Ian tried to break the tension.

“Hey, for the record, I’ve had lots of gay friends and you aren’t missing much. There’s lots of PC bullshit that’s important but took me fucking forever to learn— and even then, I never really felt like I totally belonged.” He gently nudged Mickey’s ribcage. “I guess that’s why I forgot about everyone, between work and getting to be with you all the time— I’d rather eat pizza in the mall food court with you than go to some boujee fucking café with the youth center people any day.”

The corner of Mickey’s mouth ticked upwards slightly. “Yeah. Guess you’re right.” His fingers went slack around the threads on his shirtsleeve he’d been picking at. “You don’t… miss it though? Bein’ around people who’re like us?”

Ian paused for a moment, imagining the youth center crew in the same room as Mickey— it would be fucking comical, like people speaking two different languages, like astronauts trying to communicate with aliens on Mars through gestures and confused looks. But that was just because Mickey didn’t know how to speak that language— he’d been kept shrouded in an abusive household with daily death threats for years, and then stowed away in prison where he didn’t have the chance to go to fucking brunches and clubs and education events like Ian could. Ian got the chance to learn all that shit— it wasn’t Mickey’s fault that he never did, and if it was anyone’s, it was all Terry’s.

Ian’s eyes flickered to Mickey’s face— he looked vulnerable and split open, like he was drifting away in all the possibilities of what could have been. When he answered, Ian spoke softly, carefully.

“I mean… I guess I do. There were nice parts of going out with people, or even those after-parties back when I used to work at the club. There’s something nice about being with your people, where you can make jokes about stuff or talk about deep shit and everyone’s on the same page. It’s hard to find that around here.” Ian tentatively crawled his hand over the blanket, letting it rest on Mickey’s knee. “S’there anything else going on?”

Mickey raised his thumb to his mouth, biting at a hangnail contemplatively. “Dunno, man. Just thinking. How it might be nice, to have friends like us. I used to be scared of hangin’ with other queers, but I think that was just some deep bullshit with Terry.” He looked up to meet Ian’s eyes. “It’d be nice to stop… hating that part of myself, or whatever.”

Ian smiled, reaching to intertwine his fingers with Mickey’s and tracing a pattern with the thumb that was free from their grasp on Mickey’s inner thigh, a soft touch of validation that Ian hoped would soak into Mickey’s skin.

“I think so too.” Ian watched the corner of Mickey’s mouth curve upwards. “I can definitely hit up some of the people I used to hang with, and see if they wanna get coffee or something? With the two of us? Only if you want.”

Mickey nodded— then chuckled a breathy laugh, like he was relieved. “Fuck it. Yeah.”

Ian couldn’t help it; Mickey looked so fucking sweet and so relieved that he had to press a kiss to the top of his head. Mickey squirmed underneath him, bristling like a cat that didn’t want to be pet like he did with most of Ian’s soft touches— but Ian just grinned and doubled down, pressing another slower peck onto Mickey’s temple. Mickey blew out a slow breath.

“Don’t know what I’d fuckin’ wear to a brunch with a bunch of Northside do-gooder gays,” he said after a moment, his voice wavering so slightly that no one except Ian would have noticed.

Ian rolled his eyes fondly, giving Mickey’s hand a quick pulse of a squeeze. “Mickey, are you kidding? Wear whatever the fuck you want. You don’t need to change yourself, that’s kind of the whole point.”

“Yeah. Fuck. Guess it is.” Mickey was quiet for a moment, but still chewing on his bottom lip, like he was building the courage to say something more. Ian could tell— he let the comfortable silence hang between them, knowing that Mickey would break it when he was ready.

“D’you think it’d be stupid if I, like, tried to… jazz up my look a bit?” He darted his eyes nervously to Ian’s face, down to their clasped hands, and then back to the covers again. “Like, uh— I don’t know. Maybe wore some shit that didn’t have holes in it. With patterns, or whatever.”

Ian felt his face split into a grin. Patterns, or whatever— god, he loved his dumbass husband so fucking much. He pressed another kiss to Mickey’s cheek— this time Mickey didn’t flinch away, his only resistance a forced roll of his eyes.

“Mick, I don’t think that’s stupid at all. I think you should dress however makes you feel good.”

“’Kay.” Mickey pursed his lips, like he was still hesitant. Ian rubbed his thumb over the back of Mickey’s hand, their fingers still clasped and hanging limply in Mickey’s lap. The silence was hanging again, and Ian could still feel the tight waves of anxiety bouncing off of Mickey. He took in a breath.

“I could… help you, y’know. If you wanted to dress a certain way. At the very least I could gas you up and tell you how hot you look.” Ian paused, smirking and running his eyes over Mickey’s torso. “But I could also help you pick shit out, or whatever. We could order some stuff online.”

Mickey looked up at him, his eyes oddly relieved and open in a way they hadn’t been in days. “Yeah?”

Ian softly smiled. “Yeah. Only if you want to. You’re you, and you don’t have to pretend to be anyone else. I love the way you look— hell, it drives me crazy, Mick. But— if you feel like you aren’t dressing the way that makes you feel the best, or like you’re putting on an act for other people and you don’t want to anymore— then we can figure this out.”

This time it was Mickey that initiated affection, lifting their clasped hands and pressing a quick ghost of a kiss to Ian’s wrist. Ian smiled in acknowledgement, then playfully raised his eyebrows. “You wanna look online now? I’m done working out and more than happy to help you gay up your look.”

Mickey unclasped their hands, playfully shoving Ian squarely in the chest. “Fuck you.” Then, in an uncharacteristic move from the way Mickey had been flinching away from his touches all week, Mickey leaned in closer to Ian’s chest, nestling his back on Ian’s sternum and reaching for his phone that was discarded on the blanket beside him. “Alright, hot stuff. Where’re we fucking shopping?”

Ian grinned and snapped the waistband of Mickey’s sweatpants playfully, shuffling underneath him and getting comfortable.

“’Kay, let me think. I used to order a bunch of shirts and stuff from Primark when I was going out with the youth center people. They have good denim, too.”

Mickey’s bottom lip was caught between his teeth again while he listened. He hesitated for a moment, his thumb hovering over the phone’s keyboard— then, in an automatic movement, he quickly shoved his phone into Ian’s hand, cheerfully wriggling back into Ian’s chest. Ian smirked and unlocked the phone, happy to take the reins— online shopping for fashion was clearly lightyears out of Mickey’s comfort zone.

Ian navigated over to the Primark homepage, plastered with torsos of toned models wearing striped button ups and ripped jeans. His thumb pressed down onto the “denim” tab, and he started to slowly scroll through the rows of options, holding the phone so Mickey could see.

“I don’t know what you really want, but they’ve got pretty cheap pants and shit that’re good quality…” Ian let his voice trail off, speaking softly to where Mickey was lying on his chest in a voice that he knew was tickling the shell of Mickey’s ear. Mickey almost seemed… nervous, or at the very least paralyzed by the wealth of options. He raised his thumb to his mouth, anxiously biting the hangnail again.

“I guess those ripped ones don’t look too bad.”

Ian clicked on the picture Mickey was referring to. They were black jeans, a dark wash and skinny cut, with patches ripped on both knees. Ian felt something well in his chest, probably an overreaction to a pair of jeans— but these jeans were perfect for Mickey. They weren’t too much, weren’t overly fashionable, but they still felt more clean-cut than the baggy pants Mickey usually threw on. These jeans were badass, and totally aligned with Mickey’s don’t-fuck-with-me vibe, but they were deliberate. Stylish. Like they were saying here the fuck I am.

“Yeah?” Ian knew Mickey could tell he was smiling from his voice.

Mickey smirked, craning his neck and turning to look up at Ian. “Yeah. Think I can pull ‘em off?”

Ian pressed his lips together. “Fuck yeah. You’re gonna look so good.”

Mickey just gave a satisfied smile, and nestled back against Ian’s chest again. “Let’s get ‘em, then.”

#i hope u enjoy!<3 #also im sorry I’ve been so mia in regards to prompts #my mom’s been in the hospital all week and it’s just been a very tough and draining time #but writing this brought me so so much joy!#gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless season 11

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licieoic · 4 years

Photo

“Pour One Out” - Digital Oil Painting

Inspired by Suptober, theme: Pour One Out. Bartender/Patron AU! This one was actually inspired by a number of themes from Suptober including “Family Business” and “Favorite,” as shown in the ficlet below the cut. (It’s PG, though Dean is having some more adult oriented thoughts, LOL.)

Please see the pinned post at the top of my Tumblr for my links if you'd like to help support me in saving for a safe place to live!

“Hey.”

Looking up, Dean saw his brother, Sam, sticking his head into the brewing room. It had to be nearly time for his shift, he already had his abundant hair pulled back.

“Your favorite’s here,” he said.

Dean straightened up so fast, he nearly dropped the pitcher of beer he’d been pouring so carefully. “Trench Coat?” At least, that was the name he used with Sam; he didn’t want his brother knowing what he called the quiet man in his head. He’d never quite had the courage to ask the man’s actual name and since Winchester Bros was cash only, he couldn’t sneak a look at a credit card either. He’d considered asking for his ID, as that was perfectly acceptable in a bar, but since he was clearly over legal drinking age it would just make Dean look like he was stupid or an ass.

“Usual spot,” Sam answered before popping back into the main area of the bar.

He got up close to the shiny brewing vat in front of him and tried to check his appearance, but the metal didn’t make for a good mirror and left him looking deformed. Damn… He hoped there was nothing to worry about, like food in his teeth or crustiness in the corners of his green eyes, and that his light brown hair was just the right amount of tousled, leaning more toward ‘I woke up like this’ and less like ‘I use a lot of product.’ Then he reached into the pocket of his apron for the breath mint he always kept there, on the chance that his favorite patron would stop by.

It was easy to remember the first time he’d ever seen him, he doubted he would ever forget. Five months after he and Sam had opened the bar, they’d had to strike a deal with the Devil (Dean’s private name for their wealthy investor, Crowley) in order to save it from going under. It had always been their dream to start up a family business and they’d each quit lucrative careers (Dean as a mechanic, Sam as a lawyer) to open Winchester Bros. It had taken every penny of their life savings to do it, they just couldn’t give up so soon.

Pride still smarting with the knowledge that they’d be under Crowley’s thumb for the foreseeable future, Dean hadn’t exactly been the friendliest bartender that night. After being short with a small bachelorette party, Sam told him to concentrate on the solo patrons at the bar who usually weren’t the chatty types and leave the groups to him. Dean hadn’t argued, they needed as much patronage as possible, he could ill afford to turn what could be repeat customers into people who never came back just because he was in a mood.

Down at the far end of the bar, he saw a man with dark, messy hair hunched over the bar. He wore a slightly dirty trench coat over a deep navy suit and had a five o’clock shadow darkening his jawline. All in all, a fairly standard-looking barfly, if he were judging a book by its cover. Dean leaned both hands on the bar and tried not to sound too brusque as he asked, “What can I get you?”

Then the man looked up… and Dean forgot everything. He was lost in the bluest eyes ever to blue, bluer than the tie hanging crooked from the man’s neck. Dean’s mouth might have gone slack, he wasn’t sure. They were like angel’s eyes, almost too pretty to be real.

“I don’t know,” said the man, immediately dubbed Angel Eyes. He seemed kind of down, but that wasn’t unusual for a lone bar patron. “Do you have a menu?”

“W-we do,” said Dean, pulling over the list printed on laminated cardstock once he remembered how to speak. The line at the top read ‘Winchester Brews,’ which he’d thought damn clever at the time, now he worried it was corny. “Ahem… Everything on offer is brewed in-house, plus I can make you just about anything you like.”

“Anything, huh?” He looked at the menu, but didn’t really seem to be reading it. “I don’t know,” he said again, “surprise me?”

Something was really bothering this man, Dean could tell, his bartender instincts were jangling like crazy. His bi-dar, however, was all over the place. He never had a problem flirting with the ladies who came in, but it was always hard to tell if he was clear to make a pass at a man. That kind of thing could get dangerous, depending on who it was and what kind of attitude they had.

“Surprise you,” Dean repeated, reaching below the bar for a tumbler which he filled with a few ice cubes. “Well, you look like a man of… discerning tastes.” He followed this with a wink to test the waters. To his delight, Angel Eyes smiled. And Dean’s heartbeat doubled. He turned around and took a surreptitious breath in an attempt to calm it down, but it didn’t work.

From the back shelf, he retrieved a bottle of whiskey with a simple handwritten label on the front that read ‘Winchester Special #5’ and turned back to face him. As he poured, Dean said, “This here is our monthly special.”

“What makes it special?”

“It changes every month,” said Dean. “Afterward, we add it to the list of brews. And if you can guess the flavor, the inspiration behind it… it’s on me.”

“Has anyone gotten it right yet?” It was the nineteenth, he’d assumed correctly that some people had already tried Dean’s challenge.

He shook his head. “Not quite.” Gesturing at the tumbler, he quirked a brow and asked, “Care to try?”

Angel Eyes picked up the glass and took a sip. He tilted his head, appearing thoughtful.

“So?” asked Dean when he didn’t get an immediate answer. “What’s it taste like to you?”

“Hmm. Molecules.”

Dean laughed outright and Angel Eyes grinned. “Well, you’re not wrong!” he exclaimed. “Molecules, heh, can’t say I’ve ever heard that one before, but is that your final answer?”

Swirling the ice in the glass, Angel Eyes took a longer pull, maintaining eye contact with Dean as he rolled the whiskey slowly over his tongue. Dean’s mouth went dry as he watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down when he swallowed. Unconsciously, he licked his lips and those bluer than blue eyes followed the movement.

Angel Eyes clicked his tongue. “Blueberry…” he said, slowly. “But there’s something else… It’s sweet and… creamy?”

“No hints,” said Dean, but mentally he was cheering the man on, wanting him to make the right guess, and he was so, so close.

He took one last sip from the glass, finishing it off. “It’s good. I like it. It reminds me of a blueberry sour cream pie. Final answer.”

Dean grinned broadly. “We have a winner!”

He returned the smile with one of his own and it seemed like both of them had forgotten their problems prior to their meeting each other. “Really?”

Nodding, Dean poured him another. “On me. Since you’re the first correct guess.”

He picked up the tumbler and saluted Dean with it. “Cheers.”

Dean nodded, a little disappointed that he didn’t have an excuse to keep their conversation going, and turned to go back to work.

“Oh, and—”

Heart in his throat, he looked back. Angel Eyes hesitated.

“Thank you,” he said, finally. “This… really helped.”

“Yeah?”

He made a vague gesture. “I don’t want to get into it, I know bartenders aren’t therapists,” he said. “Just some family issues.”

Dean’s heart sank. He had a family. Of course he did. “Well, you’re not the first guy to come here to escape his wife for a while,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Oh, I’m not married,” Angel Eyes said.

“Girlfriend?” came out of Dean’s mouth before he could stop himself.

He shook his head. “One of my brothers is constantly going through a rebellious phase. Our father isn’t happy about it.”

“Ohhhh, well, I can definitely understand annoying brothers,” said Dean, aiming his thumb at Sam who was down at the opposite end of the bar, and forcing himself to swallow down any follow-up questions. He’d already said he didn’t want to talk about it, Dean wanted to respect that. “You should bring your family around,” he said, smiling. “It’s easier to open up after a few, you know?”

Angel Eyes chuckled. “I’m not sure if that would be a good thing or a bad thing. Besides…” He thumbed the rim of his glass before glancing back up, hitting him with that blue gaze all over again. “I don’t know if I want them coming around here. Maybe I want to keep you all to myself.”

Any thoughts of pushing for more patrons to offset his and Sam’s massive debt had flown away. Dean could only nod like an idiot, he knew what the man meant, of course, but the unspoken implications in the statement were pinging around in his head like a super ball. He might have squeaked out an ‘okay’ or a ‘yeah’ as he headed back to work, he didn’t remember. He did remember almost tripping over his own feet and not looking back, knowing his face would be bright red. He pretended to not remember hearing another chuckle.

Since then, Angel Eyes came in at least once a week, always sat at the end of the bar, and always ordered the monthly special, even though he paid for each subsequent drink following his correct guess. He was never wrong about the flavor either, which amazed Dean, he even got the lemon meringue right. He’d been so sure that no one would get it – he’d heard lemon-vanilla, toasted marshmallow, all kinds of other things because who guesses ‘meringue’ for a whiskey anyway? Apparently, a man with gorgeous blue eyes in a slightly dirty trench coat. Three months in, he was the only person who’d figured out that Dean based all the specials on his favorite pies and it only made his guesses come that much quicker.

As he headed out to the front, he dropped off the pitcher of beer and grabbed #15 from the shelf. He almost couldn’t believe it had been ten months since his favorite patron had first come in. Tonight was the night, he resolved, he would ask for Angel Eyes’ actual name. Maybe in another ten months, he’d work up the courage to ask for his number. Dean internally rolled his eyes at himself. He was truly pathetic.

Angel Eyes perked up at the end of the bar the moment Dean emerged from the back, yellow light from a nearby neon sign on the wall reflecting off his dark hair, almost like a halo. They smiled at each other and Dean’s heart was immediately doing flips, seeing how obviously happy he was to see him. Could be the Crush Goggles, but still…

“Fancy seeing you here,” said Dean, filling the glass with ice and setting it down on the bar. “I was wondering when you’d be in to try the latest special.”

“I’m just hoping it isn’t Pumpkin Spice,” said Angel Eyes. Being that it was October, it was a fair comment. You couldn’t go ten feet without encountering something bearing that smell and/or flavor.

“I do like pumpkin pie,” said Dean, pouring the whiskey. “But I think it’s more of a November flavor.”

Dark brows lifted. “A hint? This is new. What did I do to deserve that?”

Dean laughed. “Maybe I’m in a good mood, that’s all.”

“Me too. It’s a good night.”

“Hopefully, about to be better,” said Dean, nodding at the glass.

“I don’t need to drink to have a good time,” he said, but picked up the tumbler all the same to have a sip.

“Your continued presence at my bar says otherwise,” said Dean.

Angel Eyes swallowed. “There are other reasons a person might come to a bar.”

“Such as?”

“Good ambience.” He took a longer sip and let his eyes wander over Dean before traveling back up as he swallowed. “I like the company.”

Dean hoped he wasn’t blushing but he couldn’t hold back a goofy smile. “You do get to meet all kinds of people in a place like this,” he said.

“Yes, though I was referring to one specific person.”

“Yeah?”

He finished the whiskey and set down the glass, meeting Dean’s eyes head-on. “Yes.”

Mouth dry, Dean cleared his throat. “So, uh…” He gestured at the tumbler. “Any guesses?”

“Maybe.” He trailed one finger around the rim of the glass. “If I pay for the drink, can I have something else as my prize? If I get it right, of course.”

“Uh.” He swallowed hard. “S-s-sure.” He could hardly manage the one word; he couldn’t even summon the brain power to ask what it was he wanted.

Smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Angel Eyes considered his answer. “This is a good one,” he said. “Definitely not pumpkin, but it has sweetness… and a note of tart as well.”

“Are you a sommelier?” Dean asked suddenly. “That would sure as hell explain a lot.”

He laughed, the bright sound so incongruous with his gravelly voice, it had quickly become one of Dean’s favorite things about him. So much so, that he would go out of his way to come up with a corny joke or allow himself to be a little clumsy, just for the chance to hear that laugh.

“No,” he said, still smiling. “Disappointed?”

“No. I just can’t figure out how you’re never wrong.”

“I haven’t made my guess yet,” he pointed out.

“And?”

Deliberately, he reached into his glass and retrieved a small ice cube. Before Dean knew what was happening, Angel Eyes was popping it into his mouth and sucking on it while he thought about what answer to give.

Guh. He has to be doing this on purpose! Dean thought. How does he make everything he does so sexy?

Still keeping eye contact with Dean, he bit down hard. Crunch! If he kept this up, Dean would need to run to the bathroom and readjust his jeans. To try and diffuse some of the tension in the air, Dean attempted to make a joke like he usually would.

“You, uh, you know what they say about people who chew their ice, don’t you?” he asked, almost tripping on his own tongue.

“No,” he said, to Dean’s surprise. “What do they say?”

Well, this backfired spectacularly, thought Dean. “They, uh… that they’re, well, you know…” Those clear blue eyes wouldn’t give him an inch, Angel Eyes sat patiently waiting to hear the punchline of Dean’s naughty joke like they were talking about the weather. He had no choice but to quietly stutter, “That they’re… s-s-sexually frustrated.”

“Oh.”

Really? That’s all you have to say, ‘oh’? thought Dean, incredulously. While he watched, Angel Eyes fished out another ice cube and crunched down on it viciously, all while holding Dean’s gaze, as if to punctuate his statement. Heat creeping up into his cheeks, Dean took a steadying breath. Curse blushing, he thought. Curse the noun, curse the verb, curse the act!

“H-have I finally stumped you?” Dean asked when his tongue decided to work again.

“Caramel apple rhubarb,” he said, definitively. “Final answer.”

“Damn!” exclaimed Dean, pounding one fist on the bar. “You did it again!”

All he did was smile in response, the handsome bastard. As he reached into his coat pocket, he casually remarked, “You know, your freckles disappear when you blush.”

He blinked. “They do?”

“Then I get to notice them all over again when they come back.” Retrieving his wallet, he pulled out a ten-dollar bill and placed it on the bar between them. “It’s what I’ve been calling you in my head all this time. Freckles.”

“Well, that’s kind of rude, how would you like it if my brother and I were calling you Trench Coat behind your back?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“Okay, good, because that’s totally what we’ve been doing.”

They snickered together.

“Out of curiosity,” said Dean, “what were you calling Sammy?”

“Manbun.”

Dean snorted. “I’m absolutely going to call him that.”

“So, his name is Sam? You don’t wear nametags, so I’ve only ever known your last name.”

“Nametags are lame.”

“They are. What’s your name, then?”

“Is this what you wanted instead of a free drink?”

“No, this is something I should have asked ten months ago.”

Fair point. Dean held out his hand. “Dean,” he said.

His fingers were cold from the ice but his palm was warm and smooth. “Castiel.”

“Wow.” It wasn’t a name he’d ever heard before; surprise mixed with his pleasure over finally learning the name of his long-held crush. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

“What were you expecting?”

“Not sure. Probably something anti-climactic, like Steve.” He picked up the ten with his other hand. “I’ll get you some change.”

Castiel tightened his grip when Dean would have let go. “Keep it,” he said. “Consider it a tip.”

“Okay,” Dean said, slowly, tucking the bill into his apron pocket.

“Have you eaten dinner yet?” asked Castiel.

“No.”

He grinned and it put all of the smiles Dean had received before to shame. It held a hint of mischievousness as he said, “That’s what I want.”

“You-you want—what? D-dinner? W-with me?” Dean couldn’t quite believe his ears. He’d barely been able to hope for a first-name basis tonight, he couldn’t possibly be so lucky as to score a date. But then, considering they’d been dancing around each other for ten months, maybe Castiel thought if he didn’t make the first move, it would never happen.

Bringing up his other hand, Castiel sandwiched Dean’s between the two as he said, very deliberately, “I don’t believe I’ve guessed wrong.”

Dean could be pretty dense sometimes, but he knew unequivocally that Castiel wasn’t talking about the whiskey. “I’m off in half an hour,” he said, smiling like an idiot.

“I’ll be waiting… Freckles.”

Okay… so maybe blushing wasn’t such a bad thing.

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storiesforallfandoms · 4 years

Text

master plan ~ andrew siwicki

word count: 1721

request?: yes!

@harryskittenxox “ Omg thanks so much! I feel honoured lol I was thinking something along the lines of the two of you flirting constantly and Garrett gets his friend to flirt with you to try and make Andrew jealous and finally get him to admit his feelings but after a bit of arguing and angst and all that good stuff please? Totally happy for you to take control of it though, I love your writing concepts so much you just always hit the nail in the head!”

description: when andrew refuses to admit his feelings for the girl of his dreams, garrett enlists the help of a friend to push andrew along

pairing: andrew siwicki x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist

“Why is Bruce flirting with me?” I whispered to Garrett as we both went to refill our drink glasses.

A group of us had gotten together at Garrett’s apartment - myself, Andrew, Caleb, and Bruce. Garrett invited us over for some drinks and snacks, not an unusual thing for Garrett to do. What was unusual, however, was for Bruce to be very openly flirting with me in front of everyone.

I was the only girl in our immediate friend group, so everyone assumed that Andrew, Caleb, and Bruce were constantly trying to get with me. This couldn’t be further from the truth. Besides the fact that Caleb already had a girlfriend, both he and Bruce were basically like my brothers and treated me the same way they treated each other and Garrett.

Andrew, however...well I could never tell what was happening with us. I sometimes thought that Andrew was just treating me the way he treated everyone, but I also came to realize that he was much more physically affectionate with me than anyone else. We talked a lot more than I talked to any of the other guys. But we never took it further than just friendship, which just confused me about...everything.

Garrett barley glanced at me as he responded, “Maybe he just likes you.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s definitely not it. If he liked me, why wouldn’t he have flirted with me before now?”

“Maybe he has but you haven’t noticed.”

I gave him a look. “Garrett, for real. Do you know what’s happening with Bruce?”

He looked up at me and passed me a drink. “I swear, I know nothing.”

I didn’t believe him, but I knew I wasn’t about to get any sort of info from him.

We both returned to Garrett’s living room. There were two open spots: one next to Andrew and one next to Bruce. I looked between the two, wondering what my best course of action would be.

Andrew looked up at me first and smiled. My heart fluttered and I knew the right choice almost immediately.

As I started moving towards Andrew, Bruce spoke up, “(Y/N)! Come sit next to me!”

“You’ve been hogging her all night, Bruce,” Andrew said, his glare enough to kill someone. “Maybe let the rest of us have time with her.”

Bruce attempted to glare back, but I could tell it wasn’t as sincere as Andrew’s. “Maybe (Y/N) can decide for herself.”

I looked between the two before inching myself towards Andrew. “I - I’m gonna sit with Andrew.”

The look on Andrew’s face could only be described as triumphant. As I sat next to him, he put an arm around my shoulder, causing my face to burn. Garrett gave me a knowing look before sitting next to Bruce.

“Y-Your drink looks a little low,” I said, trying to think of something - anything - to say. “Want another?”

“I think I’m okay. Feeling a little fuzzy so I should probably slow down.”

He’s drunk, he’s not flirting, I reminded myself.

With his arm around me, I had to stop myself a few times from leaning into Andrew’s embrace. However, my alcohol started to kick in as well, and his smell was just as intoxicating as my nearly empty cup. Eventually I just couldn’t stop myself from letting my head drunkenly roll onto his shoulder. But he didn’t stop me from putting my head on his shoulder, either. He actually wrapped his arm around me, letting me stay there for some time.

Eventually, Andrew did get up to get another drink. I watched him go, immediately missing his warm body next to mine. A slight annoyance rose within me when Bruce quickly stood and sat next to me again.

“Bruce, what is your fucking deal?” I asked, shoving him away from me.

“What? We haven’t hung out in a long time! I’ve missed you!” Bruce argued, although it was a very paper thin argument.

“You don’t have to be all over me though, dude. It’s annoying.”

“You heard her, Bruce,” Andrew said, now coming back from getting his drink, “it’s annoying.”

“Well maybe the rest of us find it annoying the way you’re always stealing her,” Bruce retorted.

The room went silent. I snuck a glance at both Garrett and Caleb, who looked more shocked at Bruce’s statement than in agreement with him. Garrett even looked...worried? He definitely has something to do with this, I know he does.

Andrew’s face went red. I couldn’t tell if it was with anger or embarrassment. I could definitely feel mine ignited with the latter.

“If you guys have a problem with (Y/N) and I hanging out so much, you can tell me,” he said, his voice calmer than I anticipated. “You can tell me, too, (Y/N). You know that.”

I tried to respond but I was so shocked that I couldn’t get any words out. I couldn’t understand what was happening.

“But for real, man,” Andrew said, turning back to address Bruce specifically. “You’re bothering her, so fucking lay off. I’m gonna go get some air.”

The minute Garrett’s front door closed behind Andrew, Garrett was to his feet. “Okay, that was too far, man. This whole thing is over now.”

“What whole thing?” I demanded. “Garrett, what did you do?”

“I’m sorry for being too pushy, (Y/N),” Bruce said, suddenly back to being the Bruce I knew. “I didn’t mean to actually annoy you. I thought...Garrett, why didn’t you tell her about the plan?”

“What plan?” I snapped. “Will one of you tell me what’s going on? Please?”

“Garrett had this plan to try and make you and Andrew admit your feelings for one another,” Bruce explained. “That involved me flirting with you in front of Andrew and making him jealous. I didn’t mean to take it as far as I did, but that last part slipped out before I could think about it.”

“What?!” I turned to face Garrett. “Why would you do that?! Why wouldn’t you tell me?! Poor Andrew...”

“I’m sorry!” Garrett said. “I didn’t expect it to go as far as it did! Fuck, I’ll go after him.”

Before Garrett could even move, I was already out the door. I nearly stumbled over Andrew, who was sat on the front steps of the house. He looked up at me and gave me a small smile as I sat next to him.

“Are you okay?” I asked him. “You know what Bruce said isn’t true, right? About you and me hanging out too much. None of the guys think that at all.”

“I know. I, uh, I heard Bruce and Garrett discussing their little plan just then,” Andrew responded.

“What the fuck were they thinking?” I said, still angry about the situation. “That’s...all of that was so wrong. And then they took it too far and you got hurt. I’m fucking angry.”

“I’m not too mad,” Andrew admitted. “I mean, I’m glad they’re not all annoyed with us hanging out a lot, but I find it awkward that they don’t mind cause they just want us to date.”

I winced at his wording, wondering what he meant by that. Did he mean he didn’t want to date me? Or just he didn’t want the guys meddling in his love life? Or did it even have any meaning?

“Yeah,” I finally managed, forcing a light tone in my voice. “That...that is awkward.”

A silence fell between us. I looked down at the ground for a long time, unsure of what else to say. I debated on just getting up and going back inside. I didn’t even really want to be there anymore now that I knew how Andrew felt about the situation. I knew it was a long shot that he’d have feelings for me, but hearing him actually say it felt like a sharp knife through my heart.

“Were you jealous?” I found myself asking, shocked by the boldness I was feeling in that moment. “Or were you just annoyed with Bruce, too?”

“A bit of both I think,” Andrew responded. “Obviously I was annoyed. He was bothering you and acting like a dude who doesn’t understand the meaning of the word no. But I was also jealous of the way he was acting around, and the fact that he kept trying to take all your attention.”

“But like...in a friendly way? Like...were you jealous he was taking your friend?”

“Are you trying to ask if I have feelings for you (Y/N)?”

I shook my head and started to get to my feet. It was stupid of me to try and ask him that. Of course he didn’t have feelings for me, he was my best friend. Just my best friend.

Andrew quickly stood, too, grabbing hold of my arm to stop me from going in. “Hey, hey. Don’t run away so fast. I want to know, are you asking me if I have feelings for you?”

“Yes!” I finally responded. “Yes, that’s what I’m asking you. Do you have feelings for me, Andrew? Because I really want to know what’s going on between us. Are we flirting, are we just being really friendly, are we just friends? I wanna know what’s going on in your head when you think about me, and when you see me and hang out with me.”

“You really wanna know?”

“Yes, I do.”

The response to my question came in the form of Andrew’s lips against mine. It was so easy to relax into his kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck and holding him to me. His hands rested perfectly on my hips, like they were meant to be there. I leaned into him as close as I could be, taking in as much of him as I possibly could.

The sound of cheering broke us apart. We turned to see Garrett, Bruce, and Caleb looking out the living room window at the two of us. Upon realizing they had been caught, the three of them quickly pulled the curtains and backed away from the window.

“Do you wanna go back in there?” Andrew asked.

“No,” I responded.

“Me neither. Wanna go back to my place to finish our night?”

I smiled back at him. “I’d love that.”

#andrew siwicki #andrew siwicki imagine #andrew siwicki x reader #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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prncesselene · 4 years

Note

i love your kathony fics 🥺. are prompts still open? if they are then anything around that moment that is mentioned by edwina in the books - when kate says people will move on from her and anthony's *love match* gossip soon enough and edwina's like not as long as anthony looks at you the way he did at that ball, smouldering, pushing people away to get to kate. i love that because anthony is still in his denial phase but his actions are SO clearly the opposite xD

i am indeed still taking prompts! i’m working through them all ridiculously slowly, as my inactivity might indicate (lol), but i will be getting through everything that’s being sent my way, promise! :)

ao3

“There you are!”

Kate turned at the sound of her husband’s voice, her eyes widening. She hadn’t expected him to notice she’d even left the ballroom, much less follow her out. Her slowly relaxing heart took flight once more, a mixture of shame and embarrassment pooling in her chest.

They’d arrived back in London only a few nights ago, fresh off of their time in the country after the wedding. And though the time spent alone had been rejuvenating and enlightening all at once — Anthony was, in almost every way, a very attentive husband — returning to London as a bride had been a difficult adjustment. The height of the season was still upon them, and with it a number of events and social responsibilities that now asked much more of Kate than they had before.

And she wasn’t quite sure she was up to snuff, if she were being honest with herself.

Anthony crossed the hallway in three long strides and reached her side. “I turn around for just a moment and suddenly you’re gone. Practically knocked down half of the ton trying to find you.”

Kate’s chest warmed. The ballroom had been so full he would have had to have been keeping quite the close eye on her to notice something like that.

She shook her head immediately, dashing those childish, romantic notions away. He’d been very clear on where their marriage stood, and trying to paint his intentions as anything other than a gentlemanly interest in her well-being would only lead to heartbreak. She was already lucky enough, with the deal she’d been cut; asking for anything more than what Anthony could give her seemed selfish.

Once he was at her side, he tugged her elbow, gently bringing her in front of him. “Did something happen? Why did you leave the ballroom so suddenly?”

Kate began to fiddle with the buttons on his waistcoat, her eyes fixated on a string of fabric that had begun to pull from within one of them. “My, it's warm in here, isn't it? You need to take this to get fixed. I can arrange for your tailor to pass by tomorrow afternoon, if you can manage to clear your schedule. I know y–”

“Kate,” he warned, cutting off her nervous rambling, his voice more insistent. To their left, couples and families donning their finest gowns and suits entered and exited the ballroom, chatting amongst each other easily. “What’s wrong?”

She kept fiddling with the string of fabric, chewing on her lips until she was sure they would end up bleeding. Anthony’s hands came to rest atop hers, limiting her movement. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Kate sighed, gathering the strength needed for her admission. “Anthony, I don’t think I’m quite cut out for this.”

“Cut out for what?”

“Oh, you know, all of... this,” she emphasized, attempting to tug her hands away, but his grip only tightened.

“Marriage? It’s a little late for doubts like those,” he murmured.

“What?” Kate met his eyes then, surprised to find they were much more contemplative than she expected. “No, no. It’s not that. It’s just… well, I don’t really fit in, do I? I’ve never been good at the things that ladies are expected to be good at, have never managed to sit still or act demurely or... or anything like that, really and... well, now that is precisely what is expected of me.”

She paused, chewing her lip, taking her eyes off of Anthony’s to stare at the floor. “I know I’m not the kind of wife you expected. The sort that could smile prettily and charm everyone around her and be a proper viscountess.”

Anthony’s eyes narrowed with concern, his stance tightening. He took her hands firmly in his and held onto them, running a thumb over her gloved knuckles. “Kate, where is this coming from? Did something happen?”

Kate swallowed, her heart beating traitorously. It seemed no matter how hard she tried to convince herself of Anthony’s objectivity within their marriage, her body refused to cooperate. The simple gesture of him listening to her so intently, with such gentleness and care, made her knees weak.

“No one is saying anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she sighed, noticing the way he relaxed once more. Her face reddened remembering Lady Whistledown’s most recent column. “In fact… well, it’s obviously a bit ridiculous, but the consensus among the gossips of society is that ours was a love match.”

“Ridiculous,” he repeated softly. Not quite a question, but not quite a statement of fact, either.

“Yes. Ridiculous,” she said, her belly swooping pitifully. “Anyways, clearly, it is not. You need not remind me of that fact. That— it’s fine. But even if they think ours looks like a love match, they must think it’s an ill fitting one. I mean, I'm hardly a catch. I talk too loud, express my opinion too plainly. I keep meeting duchesses and countesses and realizing I... I'm nothing like that, Anthony. And I worry I never will be."

For a moment, Anthony didn’t reply, and Kate feared he agreed with her. That he, too, saw their marriage as the farce that it was. That the one with doubts was him.

But all he did he was bring her hands up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“Never speak that way of yourself again, Kate,” he said, his voice serious. “For my sake if not yours. In fact, as your husband, I demand it.”

Kate’s fingers were warm underneath the gloves where he kissed her, her eyes wide.

“I can only speak for myself, but there is absolutely nothing about you that I would wish to change. You are headstrong, passionate, and absolutely everything a proper viscountess should be, all of those other supposed virtues be damned. If someone — anyone — cannot see that, then that is their loss and theirs only."

He tightened his grip on her hands and made sure she was looking directly at him before continuing. "When you enter rooms you command the respect of others not because you are my wife, or a Bridgerton, but because you're you. And you are more than enough.”

Kate was at a loss for words. She knew that love would never be a part of their relationship. That even if her body felt most alive when it was next to his, even if she laughed and talked with him like she had with no one else before, even if she knew she was already halfway in love with him herself — that those feelings would have to be kept under lock and key.

But then, when he said those things…. When he looked at her like that…

It was, admittedly, a little difficult not to want to wrap her arms around him and show him exactly how she felt.

Kate released her inhibitions and embraced him tightly anyways, if only so that he wouldn’t see the errant tears that threatened to slip out of her eyes.

“Thank you,” she murmured into the velvet of his coat, indulging in the comforting smell of leather and tobacco and Anthony that she’d grown to associate with warmth and belonging. That she’d grown to love, little by little. "You needn't lie to me to make me feel better, but I appreciate it all the same."

“There is nothing I’ve said that I wouldn’t happily repeat in front of all of London,” he said, the smile in his voice evident. One of his hands wrapped around her waist while the other tipped her chin towards his. “Will you obey your husband and never disparage yourself like this again? Can I trust you to do that?”

Kate’s eyes narrowed as she bit down on her own smile. She was like a slice of jelly when it came to him, pliant and willing to do whatever he said. It helped, of course, that all he was asking of her was to be kinder to herself. That he seemed to really, truly believe the words he'd said. That he saw her that way.

“I suppose.”

He smiled and leaned down to slant his lips against hers, taking advantage of the brief lull in hallway activity. The arm around her waist tightened and brought her closer to him as his lips explored hers tenderly.

“Anthony!” she scolded, giggling against his mouth. “This is most improper. What if someone sees us?”

Leaning his forehead against hers, Anthony smiled. “The gossip about us is already scandalous. Why not add to it?”

Kate laughed but pulled away, shaking her head. As much as she loved kissing Anthony, she'd had enough scandal to last a lifetime. “I don’t think there’s any need for that.”

Straightening her ballgown and tightening her gloves once more, Kate took a deep breath. It was time to go back to the ballroom, where she would once again have to resume the act of viscountess; to pretend that she knew what she was doing, that she belonged there. With Anthony by her side, at least, it almost felt manageable.

Anthony’s smile was warm when he extended his arm out to hers. “Ready to return to the fun, Mrs. Bridgerton?”

Dash it. With him by her side it was certainly manageable. She had a growing suspicion that with him, anything was. Love matches or no.

She slipped her arm into his, remembering his words. His faith in her.

“Ready.”

#bridgerton #bridgerton fic #kate x anthony #kathony #kanthony #anthony bridgerton #kate sheffield #kate sharma #delaniewrites #AHHHH i have been so inactive lately lol #terrible bout of writers block mixed with a little bit of depression and existential anxiety = a delicious cocktail for NOT writing #but anyways pushing through it so #here you go

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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

Shining Bright Above You

Spencer Reid x Male Reader

Summary: Spencer finally gets to go out with his boyfriend after getting out of prison and gets to see the light despite the overwhelming darkness.

A/N: Hey guys! This is my twenty-first fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April. This ones one of my favorites I’ve ever written and is based on this request and is also inspired by some stuff @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff sent to me for inspiration. I know x male reader fics don’t do good in fandom (which is a crying shame) but there’s still a large portion of people it applies to that read fanfic so please share it around so it might reach them!! Inclusivity in fanfic is important and I’ve heard multiple people get very discouraged they don’t see more fics that represent them- so please help bring more inclusivity in fandom!!! My ask box is open for nice anons only- here- if I see a shred of homophobia I will curb stomp you (I will not have a debate about it in my inbox) BUT please don’t be afraid to point out if I made a mistake in terms of the gender of the reader (this is not an open invitation to critique the rest of the fic)Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of homophobia & the prison arc & subtle hints at a soulmate au (which is funny I wrote it like that because I don’t read soulmate fics lol)- otherwise its super fluffy 🥰

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.6k

Time was just a construct created by humans to understand how we moved forward in the universe, and even though I was exaggerating it had felt like a million years since I had been out with Spencer. Prison had already made it hard to see him, with all the pat downs and checks only to still be separated by a plexiglass wall. On top of that, Spencer had only let me visit once, until he saw eyes leering at me with some uttering slurs underneath their breath.

It wasn’t until he was freed that I could see him again, and in the flesh as well. I remember our first hug after he had been released, both of us practically soaking our clothes with tears that didn’t seem to stop. For Spencer, it had even taken along time to convince him that I was real, and that I was safe- there would be no homophobic prisoners coming to attack us in the night.

Spencer didn’t like the night, one of his worst fears was the darkness and night was when the shadowy parts of his mind came out to play. Oftentimes I’d find him in other parts of the apartment at night, with all the lights on, the bed was no longer a place of comfort. One night I had pulled him to the couch, lights all flicked on and a nature documentary playing softly. When I had brought his head into my lap to stroke his fluffy locks that were still beautiful even though they were still damaged from the prison soap, he had fallen asleep a lot easier. Since then the couch has become our bed. Though I did not mind because he kicked and cried less in the night, and even when he did, it was easier to hold him.

The night was a scary place for Spencer, except when the stars shone bright. That’s why when I had remembered one of our favorite past dates, at the observatory, I immediately called in a favor. We had the place to ourselves tonight, sure it cost me more money than I’d ever spent before on a date. It had been ages, a million years it seemed like since we went out in public, so the price was worth it. It was all for Spencer, to make the night good for him again.

Though I definitely loved looking at the bright balls of gas up above I much preferred to rest my gaze on Spencer’s eyes. Spencer’s eyes often reminded me of the stars, not because of their color- but because of the slight twinkle that they got every time he was happy. The twinkle in my opinion rivaled the brightness of the stars with ease.

Normally I could listen to Spencer rambling on about facts all day, being completely entranced by his phrasing. But, his eyes had entranced me this time. I was no longer thinking about the black holes that he was rambling about, but how lucky I was. How lucky I was to see that twinkle in his eye and get to kiss him at the same time?

I could’ve been born at any point throughout space and time, to see any number of amazing things across the universe. But, I was put here standing next to Spencer. Just two specks of stardust ready to be in this world together. However insignificant life could seem in the grander scheme of things- however small we could both seem, I wouldn’t want to be next to any other speck of stardust nor be placed at any point in space and time.

“And no particles or even electromagnetic radiation such as light—can escape from it.” I caught the last part of what he said as he finished his mini rant about black holes. Thinking about light being swallowed up and being crushed into oblivion it made me think of Spencer again, it was a sad thought, though it was filled with hope.

I thought about all the darkness that had tried to consume Spencer throughout the years. Most recently prison had been the thing that tried to stomp the light out of him. It was nice to see that light that had dimmed sparkle a little brighter tonight. Even though we have been dating for a long time I felt myself filled with a small amount of happiness knowing that I was at least part of the reason the sparkle in his eye was bright tonight.

“You ok?” Spencer piped up, looking at me with concern.

“The stars are bright tonight.”

He looked a little confused at my seemingly somewhat random statement, he still looked back up at the stars. On the inside I wished he’d kept his bright glinting gaze upon me, then he confirmed my statement, “Yes, yes they are.”

“You’re still shining brighter.” Even after all this time I still had the capabilities to make Spencer blush. Every time he did so I was reminded of the stuttering boy I had met all those years ago. When he had first approached me in the library so long ago to ask me if I was finished with a book I had set down to the side, he was instantly just as endearing to me as he is now.

It had been such a different time then, it seemed almost like another lifetime. We had been through so much together, I often thought the universe might have some vendetta against us. Though logically the universe wouldn’t be so concerned with two small specks of stardust such as ourselves. Either way, whatever was truly out there in the unknown, there’s no place I’d rather be.

A piece of paper, folded carefully so the creases would be neat, was burning a hole through my slacks. It was a small gift in the grander scheme of things, a blip on anyone else’s radar. This held more meaning for us than just some novelty gift people buy.

His eyes were back on the stars, observing them with such intensity that I hadn’t even seen the astronomer Spencer had introduced me to last time we were here. Spence craved the light above him- who was I to deny him if I could give it to him?

It may have not been plucking the stars out of the sky for him to cuddle in his arms in a literal sense. I couldn’t buy all the stars in the sky, the website didn’t allow that. I could give him one though, one that was brighter than any others they had for sale.

“I-I have something for you.” I stuttered, which had Spencer looking at me with suspicion; he was the stutterer when nervous, not normally me.

Spencer’s eyes were on me now, not the stars, though he looked at me with the same reverence as he did when gazing up at the Milky Way. The same way I always did.

My hands were shaky when I pulled out the folded paper, carefully undoing the creases to present him the certificate of ownership for a star. Spencer steadied them with his fingers wrapping around my wrists. They were long and spindly, just made in a certain way that made me always want to kiss the tips of them as I did so often.

He then took the paper from my hands, even though I wanted to be greedy and take the warmth from his hands that the paper was stealing. I cleared my throat before telling him what the folded paper was, still nervous over a simple sheet of paper,“It’s our star.”

Somehow his eyes gleamed ever brighter because of how the tears that were now welling up in his eyes refracted the light even more. He wiped them a little, so he could scan the paper over to read the certificate that to most people meant nothing.

“It’s so we can have a little bit more light in our life.” I chewed on my bottom lip after I finished giving him my reasoning for the gift, nervous about his reaction. His hands were shaking now, as were mine, though for different reasons.

If my brain was thinking logically I’d realize he’d love anything I have to him, he’d probably even treasure a vial of sand. “You’re all the light I need” He then pulled me into his lips by grasping at my cheeks, the paper still in his hands brushing up against them accidentally. The only people here to see the light between us was a mingling curious janitor. It didn’t matter who was watching, I only needed one person to be here, Spencer. And, every time I was in his presence I always stopped to think, there’s no place I’d rather be. There’s no one else I’d rather be attached to, no one else I want to call me their boyfriend. He’s my home and my light just as much as I am his.

There’s an old Buddhist saying that, when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. So always appreciate and be kind to one another. I don’t know how much I put stock in the idea of soulmates, or the universe having some illogical vendetta against us, or the possibility of a being greater than humankind. I did know however, that if there was anyone in the world that I could possibly be soulmates with, it would be Spencer Reid. I’d spend the rest of my days comforting him from the darkness, happily showing him the specks of light in between that ultimately would defeat the swirling pools of black.

Ask Me Anything

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

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RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Dark”

Welcome back, everyone! Can you believe it's been six weeks already? I can't. Something something the uncomfortable passage of time during a pandemic as emphasized by a web-series.

But we're here to talk about RWBY the fictional story, not RWBY the cultural icon. At least, we will in a moment. First, I'd like to acknowledge that shaky line between the two, growing blurrier with every volume. A sort of good news, bad news situation.

The bad news — to get that out of the way — is that we cannot easily separate RWBY from its authors and those authors have, sadly, been drawing a lot of negative attention as of late. This isn't anything new, not at all, but I think the unexpectedly long hiatus gave a lot of fans (myself included) the chance to think about Rooster Teeth's failings without getting distracted by their biggest and brightest production. There's a laundry list of problems here — everything from the behavior of voice actors to the quality of their merch — but as a sort of summary issue, I'd like to highlight the reviews that continue to pop up on websites like Glassdoor, detailing the toxic, sexist, crunch-obsessed environment that RT employees are forced to work in. A lot of these websites requires a login to read more than a page of reviews, but you can check out a Twitter thread about it here.

Now, I want to be clear: I'm not bringing this up as a way to shame anyone enjoying RWBY. This isn't a simplistic claim of, "The authors are Problematic™ and therefore you can't like the stuff they produce." Nor is this meant to be a catch-all excuse for RWBY's problems. If it were, I'd have dropped these recaps years ago. I'm of the belief that audiences maintain the right to both praise and criticize the work they're given, regardless of the context in which that work was produced. At the end of the day, RT has presented RWBY as a finished product and, more than that, presents it as an excellent product, one worth both our emotional investment and our money (whether in the form of paying for a First account, or encouraging us to buy merch, attend cons, etc.) I'll continue to critique RWBY as needed, but I a) wanted fans to be at least peripherally aware of these issues and b) clarify that my use of "RT" in statements like, "I can't believe RT is screwing up this badly" is meant to be a broad, nebulas acknowledgement that someone in the company is screwing up, either creatively (doesn't have the skill to write a good scene) or morally (hasn't created an environment in which other creators are capable of crafting a good scene). The real, inner workings of such companies are mostly a secret to their audiences and thus it's near impossible for someone like me — random fan writing these for fun as a casual side hobby — to accurately point fingers. Hence, broad "RT." I just wanted to clarify that when I use this it's as a necessary placeholder for whoever is actually responsible, not a damnation of the overworked animator breaking down in a bathroom. Heavy stuff, but I thought it was necessary (or at least worthwhile) to acknowledge this issue as we head into the second half of the volume.

Now for the good news: RWBY has reached 100 episodes! For any who may not know, 100 is a pretty significant number in the TV world because, when talking about prime time programming, it guarantees syndicated reruns. Basically, networks don't want audiences to get burned out with a show — changing the channel when it comes on because ugh, I've seen this already, recently too — and 100 episodes allows for a roughly five month run without any repeats, making it very profitable. RWBY is obviously not a television show and doesn't benefit from any of this (hell, modern television doesn't benefit from this as much as it used to, not in the age of streaming), but the 100 episode threshold is still ingrained in American culture. Beyond just being a nice, rounded number, it is historically a measure of huge success and I can't imagine that RT isn't aware of that. Regardless of what we think of RWBY's current quality, this is one hell of a milestone and should be applauded.

All that being said... RWBY's quality is definitely still lacking lol.

Our 100th episode is titled "Dark" — keeping with the one word titles, then — and I'd like to emphasize that, as a 100th episode, it definitely delivers in terms of plot. There's plenty of action, important character beats, and at least one major reveal, everything we'd expect from a milestone and a Part II premiere. The animation also continues to be noteworthy for its beauty, as I found myself admiring many of the screenshots I took for this recap. There are certainly things to praise. The only problem (one we're all familiar with by now) is that these small successes are situated within a narrative that's otherwise falling apart. It's all good stuff... provided you ignore literally everything else surrounding it.

But let's dive into some examples. We open on Qrow starting, awoken by the thunder outside. Robyn has been watching him and makes a peppy comment about how none of them will be sleeping tonight, followed by a more serious, "Sounds bad out there." Yeah, it does sound bad, especially when they all know — thanks to Ruby's message back in Volume 7 — that this is due to Salem's arrival. I think a lot of the fandom has forgotten that little detail because people often discuss Qrow as if he is entirely ignorant of what is going on outside his cell. Even if we were to assume that he's forgotten all about the pesky Salem issue (the horror of Clover's death overriding everything else, perhaps) he still knows that Tyrian is running loose in a heat-less city with a creepy storm going on and, from his perspective, the Very Evil Ironwood is still running the show. So it's bad, which begs the question of why Qrow (and Robyn, for that matter) hasn't displayed an ounce of legitimate worry for everyone he knows out there. Thus far, their interactions have centered entirely around Qrow's misplaced blame and Robyn's terrible attempts to lighten the mood, despite the fact that a war is raging right beyond that wall. It's another example of RWBY's inability to manage tone properly, to say nothing of balancing the multiple concerns any one character should be trying to juggle. Just as it rankles that Ruby and Yang don't seem to care about what has happened to their uncle, Qrow likewise doesn't seem to care about what might be happening to his nieces. When did we reach a point where these relationships are so broken that someone can be arrested/chucked into a deadly battle and the others just... ignore that?

So Robyn's otherwise innocuous comment immediately reminds me of how badly the narrative has treated these conflicts and, sadly, things don't improve much from here. We are thankfully spared more of Robyn's jokes when Qrow realizes that what he's hearing can't be thunder. A second later, Cinder blasts through the wall — called it! — and Qrow instinctively transforms.

The only downside to this moment is that the whole ceiling falls down on Qrow and the others because APPARENTLY these cells don't have tops on them. Seriously. As far as I can recall we don't see the stone breaking through the forcefield somehow and this looks pretty open to me.

If it is... you're telling me these crazy powerful fighters who practice landing strategies and leap tall buildings in a single bound —

— can't just hop over this mildly high electric fence to get out? Qrow can't just fly away?

We're, like, two minutes in, folks.

We transfer to Nora's perspective as she wakes up, seeing Klein giving her the IV. He tells her not to worry, that "you and your friend are going to be just fine." What friend? Penny? Klein went upstairs prior to Weiss hugging Whitley or Penny crash landing outside. I had thought them bursting through the door with another unconscious friend was the first time he learned what the big bang outside was, but apparently not.

Penny is, obviously, a mess. While I now understand the choice to make her blood such an eye-catching color when that's crucial to the Hound's hunt, I still think it looks strange visually. Like someone has taken a copy of RWBY and painted over it. It doesn't look like it fits the art style. More than that, it implies some rather complicated things about Penny's humanity, especially in a volume focused around her being a "real girl." Real enough for Maiden powers, but with obviously inhuman blood that isn't even referred to as "bleeding." Penny "leaks" instead.

Toss in the fact that she's literally an android who is made up of tech — recall the running gags about her being heavy, or it hurts to fist-bump her, to say nothing of keeping things like multiple blades inside her body — yet Klein says that her "basic anatomy" is the same and he can "stitch up that wound."

I'm sorry, what? Whatever Penny looks like on the inside, it's not going to resemble a human woman's anatomy, and Klein might be able to stitch the outer layer of skin she's got, but that won't do anything to fix whatever metal bits have been broken underneath. Penny isn't a human-robot hybrid, she's a robot with an aura. Penny has knives in her back, rockets in her feet, and a super computer behind her eyes. When our clip introduced that Klein would be the one to help Penny, my initial reaction was, "Seriously? He's a butler and a doctor and an engineer?" But RWBY didn't even try to get away with a Super Klein explanation, they just waved away Penny's very obvious, inhuman anatomy. Yeah, I'm sure "stitching up" an android wound is just like giving Nora her IV. I hope the surgical sutures he used are extra strong!

In an effort to not entirely drag this episode, I do appreciate that Whitley is allowed an "ugh" moment about the non-blood covering his shirt without anyone calling him out on it. That felt like the sort of thing the show would usually try to make a character feel guilty about and I'm glad that, for once, he was just allowed to be frustrated without comment.

Then the power goes out and May calls, which raises questions about what state the CCTS is in and when scrolls are available to our protagonists vs. when they're not. But whatever. She's checking in because she just "saw another bombing run light up the Kingdom" and —

Wait. Bombing? Salem is bombing the city? I know we've seen explosions in the sky, but I'd always just attributed that to evil aesthetic. Why does this dialogue sound like it's from a World War II film and not a fantasy sci-fi show about literal monsters launching a ground attack?

May looks pretty against the sky though. I like her hair color against that purple.

I'm admittedly grasping at positives here because we finally return to her "You have to choose" ultimatum and — surprise! — May has pulled back completely. Ruby says that once they've helped Penny, "We'll...we'll do something!" which is once again her avoiding making a decision. Ruby still refuses to choose, instead falling back on generic, optimistic pep talks. They'll figure out how to stop Salem later. They'll think about the impact of telling the world later. They'll choose who to help later. Ruby keeps pushing these problems into the future where, she hopes, a perfect, magical solution will have appeared for her to latch onto. When that continues to not happen, others pressuring her to actually do something and stop waiting for perfection — Ironwood, Yang, May — she panics and continues stalling for time. Wait an episode and the narrative supports her in this.

Because initially May was forcing Ruby to decide. Now, May enables her desire to keep putting things off. "Don't beat yourself up, kid. At this point, I don't know how much is left to be done." That's the exact opposite of what May believed last episode, that there was still so much work and good to do for the people of Mantle. This is precisely what the show did with Yang and Ren's scenes too, having people call Ruby out... but then return to a message of, 'Don't worry, you're actually doing just fine' before Ruby is forced to actually change.

None of which even touches on May calling her "kid" in this moment. That continues to be a convenient way of absolving Ruby of any responsibility. When she wants to steal airships or Amity Tower, she's an adult everyone should listen to, the leader of this war. When the story wants to absolve her of previously mentioned flaws, she becomes a kid who shouldn't "beat herself up." I said years ago that RWBY couldn't continue to let the group be both children and adults simultaneously, yet here we are.

So that was a thoroughly disappointing scene. Ruby gets her moment to look sad and defeated, listing "the grimm, the crater, Nora, Penny" as problems she doesn't know how to solve. Note that 'Immortal witch attacking the city I've helped trap here' isn't included in that list. Ruby is still ignoring Salem herself and no one in the group is picking up where May left off, challenging her to do more than wring her hands over things others are already trying to take care of: Ironwood is fighting the grimm, May has gone off to help the crater, Klein is patching up Nora and Penny. Ruby, as one flawed individual, should not be expected to come up with a solution to everything, but she does need to stop acting like she can come up with a solution to everything when it matters most (office scene) and rejecting others' solutions when they ask for her help (Ironwood, May).

If it feels like I'm dragging the flawed, traumatized teenager too much, it's not in an effort to ignore those aspects of her identity. Rather, it's because she's also the licensed huntress who wrested control from a world leader and violently demanded she be put in charge of this battle. Ruby, by her own actions, is now responsible for dealing with these problems, or admitting she was wrong and letting others take the lead, without purposefully derailing their plans. She doesn't get to suddenly go, "I don't know," cry a little, and get sympathetic pats.

But of course that's precisely what happens, courtesy of Weiss.

During this whole scene I kept wondering why no one was celebrating Nora waking up, especially when Ruby outright mentions her. Have they just not noticed given all the Penny drama? Because Nora absolutely woke up.

Aaaand went back to sleep, I guess. What was the point of that POV shot? No worries though, she'll wake up again in a minute.

Willow arrives and announces that they can fix the power (and Penny) using the generator at the edge of the property. I'm convinced RT doesn't actually know what a generator is because the characters are acting like it's some super special device that only richy-rich could possibly have. Whitley says that it's the SDC executives who have their "own power supply" and that it's "extremely unfair." Now, don't get me wrong, a good generator powering large portions of your house can run you 30k+, but you can also get one that plugs into your extension cord and powers your fridge for a couple hundred. There's absolutely a class issue here, just not the one Whitley and Weiss seem to be commenting on. They make a generator sound like the sort of device that only a politician-CEO could possible have and it's weird.

Likely, it sounds weird because it's a choppy way of getting Whitley to bring up the wealth disparity so he can then go, 'That's right! We're crazy rich with a company housing tons of ships! We can use those to evacuate Mantle.' Awkwardness aside, I do like that the Schnee wealth is being used for good purposes, but... evacuate where? To the city currently under attack by a giant whale? In a RWBY that wasn't determined to demonize Ironwood, this would have been a great plot point during the office scene instead, with Weiss offering her services to Ironwood, even if the group decides that a continued evacuation still isn't possible.

Instead, we get it here from Whitley. Do I need to point out the obvious? That Whitley is the MVP of this episode? He's done more good in an HOUR than the group has managed in a year. Give this kid some training and make him a huntsmen instead.

We're given a (very pretty!) shot of the shattered moon because it wouldn't be RWBY if we weren't continually reminded that gods once wiped out humanity before destroying part of a celestial body... and absolutely no one talks about that lol.

Blake's coat might not make any sense for her color scheme, but it does make her easy to spot as she and Ruby run across the grounds. Oh my god, they're actually doing something together! It only took eight years. They even get a lovely talk where Blake admits how much she looks up to Ruby, despite her being younger, and once again I'm struck at how much more I would have loved this scene if it had appeared elsewhere in the series. It is, indeed, as sweet and emotional as all the RWBY GIF-ers are claiming... provided you overlook that this is the exact opposite of what Ruby needs to hear right now. She doesn't need to hear that she's more mature and reliable than her elders when she's functioning under a "We don't need adults" mentality. She doesn't need to hear that not knowing what to do is totally fine, not when that led to her turning on Ironwood, despite not knowing how to stop Salem. She doesn't need to hear that "doing something" — doing anything — is a strength, because Ruby keeps avoiding the big problems for smaller ones she's comfortable with, like standing by Penny's bedside instead of deciding between Mantle and Atlas. Blake's speech is heartfelt, but it's a speech that suits a Beacon days Ruby who is having some doubts about her leadership skills, not the girl whose impulsive — and now lack of — actions is having world-wide repercussions. Everyone is babying Ruby to a staggering degree. It's like if we had a med show where the doctor is standing by the bedside of a coding patient, fretting between two treatments. 'Don't worry,' their colleague says, patting their shoulder. 'I've always looked up to you. You'll do something when you're ready' and then they continue to watch the patient, you know, die.

Also: who does Ruby look up to? Everyone talks about how much they depend on and trust Ruby, but who does Ruby look to for guidance? A number of her problems stem from the fact that she has rejected the advice of everyone who has tried to help her improve: Qrow, Ozpin, Ironwood, even Yang. Ruby is presented as the pinnacle of what to strive for in a leader, rather than a leader who has only been doing this for two years and still has a great deal to learn.

Anyway, they get the generator on and the Hound shows up.

I am begging RT to just make RWBY a horror story. All their best scenes the last three years have been horror I am bEGGING —

Anyway, while Ruby waits to be eaten we cut to Willow and Klein, the former of which is reaching for her bottle, pulling back, reaching again, all while her hand shakes. This is good. This is what we should have gotten with Qrow. Which isn't to say that their (or anyone's) addiction should be identical, but rather that this is a far more engaging and complex look at addiction than what our birb got. Willow tells us that she doesn't drink in the dark despite bringing the bottle with her; tries to resist drinking when she's scared and ultimately fails. Qrow just decided to stop drinking after decades of addiction, seemingly for no reason, and that was that. Why is a side character we only met this volume written better than one of the main cast?

Blake manages to call Weiss about the Hound and she asks if Whitley can handle the airships without her. I mean, I assume so given that Weiss is looking at the bookshelves while Whitley does all the work lol. He makes a teasing comment about how he can if she can handle that grimm and she comments that they still need to work on his "attitude."

No they don't. Weiss stuck a weapon in her kid brother's face. Whitley made a joke. Even if Weiss' comment is likewise meant to be read as teasing, it's clear that we've bypassed any meaningful conversation between them. That hug was supposed to be a Fix Everything moment even though, as I've laid out elsewhere, it didn't even come close.

We cut back to Ruby getting thrown through a wall into the backyard and the Hound creepily coming after her. She's freaked out by this clearly abnormal grimm and Blake is weirdly... not? "It's just a grimm. Just focus!" Uh, it's obviously not. Have we reached the traumatized, sleep-deprived point where the group is sinking into full-blown denial? I wouldn't be surprised. They've been awake for like... 40+ hours.

Because the Hound knocks Ruby out with a single hit. Just, bam, she's down. "Focusing" is not the solution here.

Weiss calls to warn the others about the grimm, telling them to stick together. Willow (understandably) starts freaking out and flees the room (classic horror trope!). Klein is left alone when Penny wakes up with red eyes. Oh no!

Don't worry. You know nothing meaningful happens.

She shoves Klein before (somehow?) resisting the hack, her Maiden powers going wild in the process. Just when it looks as if Penny might cause some serious damage, Nora wakes up, takes her hand, and says, I kid you not:

"Hey... no one is going to make you do anything you don't want to do... It's just a part of you. Don't forget about the rest."

Okay. I want to re-emphasize that I love hopeful, uplifting, victory-won-through-the-power-of-love stories. Istg I'm not dead inside, it's just that RWBY does this so badly. I mean, what is this? It has similarities to the character shouting, 'No! Resist!' to their mind-controlled ally, but this is not presented as a desperate, last-ditch effort by Nora. She just speaks like this is the most obvious truth in the world. If you don't want to have your mind taken over... just don't! It's that simple. The problem definitely isn't that Watts has changed her coding and has implemented a command she can't override, it's that Penny has forgotten about the "rest" of her personhood.

And this works. Granted, not for long, but we leave Nora having successfully calmed Penny down and until her eyes unexpectedly go red again scenes later, we're left assuming that this is a permanent solution. That, imo anyway, is taking the Power of Love too far, overriding the basic reality of Penny being hacked. It’s not a personal failing she must overcome, it’s an external attack. I would have rather had Nora react to the scars she saw on her arm, or have a moment with Klein, or get some love from the group. Not a wakes up, falls asleep, wakes up again to save Penny with a Ruby level 'Just ignore reality' pep-talk, then back to sleep again.

So Penny isn't attacking her allies, or mistakenly hurting her allies with wild Maiden powers. Not that the group doesn't have enough to deal with, but still. Weiss arrives to help with the Hound and attempts a new summon, only to fail when two minor grimm burrow up into her glyphs. I really enjoyed that moment, both for the wing visual and the knowledge that Weiss' glyphs can fail if you break them somehow (which makes sense). Also, I just like that she failed in general? Weiss is, as per usual now, about to demonstrate just how OP she is compared to the rest of the team, so it was nice to see her faltering here.

The Hound tries to make off with Ruby and Blake does an excellent job of keeping it tethered. Ruby finally wakes, only to realize that the grimm is actually after Penny since it's staring at her power up through the window, no longer trying to escape. Moments like this remind me that there's someone on RT's writing team that knows what they're doing, at least some of the time. The assumption that the Hound is after Ruby as a SEW, the surprise that it's actually Penny, realizing it holds up because Ruby is covered in Penny's blood and Blake is not... that's all nice, tight plotting. More of that please!

The Hound drops her and Ruby's aura shatters when she hits the ground. I want everyone to remember this moment as an example of how strong the Hound is. The group may be tired, but unlike YJR they've been sitting around in the Schnee manor for a number of hours, regaining strength. We saw the Hound hit Ruby twice — once through the wall and once to knock her out — and then she falls from a not very high distance for a huntress, yet her aura is toast. That's the level of power and skill the Hound possesses. Decimating YJR, knocking Oscar out, same for Ruby, avoiding Blake and Weiss' hits, soon to treat Penny like a ragdoll. Just remember all this for the episode's end.

Blake tells Weiss she'll take care of Ruby, you go help the others. Yay breaking up the duos more! Bad timing though as the new acid-spitting grimm pops out of the ground and Blake is now left alone to face it.

Weiss re-enters the mansion, knowing the Hound is somewhere nearby, but not where. Suddenly, Willow's voice sounds through her scroll with an, "Above you!" which... doesn't keep Weiss from getting hit lol. But it's the thought that counts! Willow has accessed the cameras she's set up throughout the manor, watching the Hound's movements, and I have to say, that is a WAY better use of her separation from Klein than I thought we were getting. I legit thought they'd have Willow run away in a panic, meet the Hound, die, and then Weiss could be sad about losing her mom.

It does say something about RWBY's writing that this was my knee-jerk theory, as well as my surprise when we got something way better.

The Hound runs off, uninterested in Weiss, and she asks Willow to keep tabs on it. It heads for Whitley next (also covered in Penny's blood) and very creepily stalks him in the office with a, "I know you're here." Whitley is seconds away from being Hound chow before one of Weiss' boars pin it against the wall. He runs, then runs BACK to finish deploying the airships, before finally escaping assumed death. Goddamn this boy is pulling his weight.

I assume all these ships are automated then? I hope someone takes a moment to call May. Otherwise it's going to be super weird for the Mantle citizens if a fleet of SDC ships just show up and hover there...

I don't entirely understand how Weiss saved him though. She's nowhere to be seen when Whitley leaves and he runs a fair distance before he and Willow encounter Weiss again. We know her summons don't have to keep right next to her, but are they capable of rudimentary thought, attacking an enemy — and an enemy only — despite Weiss being a couple corridors down and unable to see the current battlefield? I don't know. In another series I'd theorize that this was a deliberate hint, a way to clue us into the fact that Willow, someone who we currently know almost nothing about, had training in the past and summoned the boar herself. Weiss and Winter certainly didn't get that hereditary skill from Jacques. Hell, we might still get that, Weiss reacting with confusion next episode when Whitley thanks her for the boar, but I doubt it. That scene with Ruby and the Hound aside, the show isn't this good at laying groundwork and then following up on it.

Case in point: Weiss says, "I didn't forget you" to Whitley after he gets away from the Hound, the moment trying to harken back to her promise to Willow. Key word is "trying." Because she absolutely forgot him! Weiss threatened and ignored Whitley until he proved his usefulness. I also shouldn't need to point out that, "Don't forget your brother" does not mean, "Don't let your brother die a horrible death by abnormal grimm." Weiss acts like her saving him is a fulfillment of her promise, rather than just the most basic of human decency. And also, you know, her job.

So that part is frustrating. The entire Schnee dynamic is a mess, from Weiss making a joke of her father's arrest, to Willow (presumably) fixing their relationship by putting a hand on her daughter's shoulder. Okay.

Then Weiss cuts off the Hound by summoning a giant wall of ice. My brain, every time this happens:

YOU COULD HAVE FIXED THE HOLE IN MANTLE'S WALL.

Moving on, Blake's fight against the acid... thing has some great choreography, including Blake using her semblance which we haven't seen in AGES.

I really like the fight itself, just not what Blake is shouting the whole time. "I need you, Ruby! We all need you!" This has really gotten ridiculous. Ruby is presented as everyone's sole savior despite failing time and time again. It's not that I don't think Blake as a character should have faith in her leader, it's that I don't think the writers should be crafting a story where everyone puts their unshakable hopes in an untrained, disloyal, impulsive 17 year old. I mean, Ruby is currently unconscious, yet Blake is acting like if she doesn't wake up — she, as an individual, if Ruby Rose does not re-join this fight — then all is lost. If Ruby doesn't save them, no one can. Which is, of course, absurd on numerous levels. Blake doesn't need the passed out, aura-less Ruby right now, she needs the still very healthy Weiss pulling out multiple summons and an ice wall! Use your scroll and call for backup again.

But of course, Ruby wakes up and kills the new, terrifying grimm with a single hit. It's a preview of what's to come with the Hound and it's just as ridiculous here as it will be there.

Speaking of the Hound, am I the only one who thought this was... cute?

I can't possibly be the only one. That head-tilt is exactly what my dogs do and my brain instinctively went, "Aww, puppy!"

Murderous puppy.

The Hound realizes none of the Schnees are who it's looking for and runs off. Penny, meanwhile, has been fully taken over because, well, that's just what's convenient now. She resists long enough keep Amity up, then succumbs, then resists to apologize to Ruby, then succumbs, then resists because Nora asked her to, then succumbs once it's time to knock her out. If RWBY was willing to commit to consequences, Penny would have been taken over and that was that. The characters would need to deal with whatever outcome happens as a result. Instead, the show very carefully avoids any of those pesky consequences by having Penny successfully resisting at key moments, despite no explanation of how she's managing that.

She shoves Klein again (Klein is having a Bad Time) and starts walking down the main steps. When Whitley wants to know where the hell she's going, Penny mechanically responds that she must "Open the vault, then self-destruct." I suppose the change Watts made was the self-destruct order? Ironwood obviously wants the vault open, though not necessarily Penny's death. Think what you will of his moral compass, she's a damn powerful ally — a research project, perhaps — and a Maiden to boot. At the very least, her death may give the powers to someone even worse.

God, please don't let them have brought Penny back and made her a Maiden just to kill her again.

The Hound arrives though and, as said, knocks Penny out. We're back to square one with her, then. Note though that this attack is near instantaneous. She grabs its hands one second, is hanging limply the next. Wow, the Hound sure is a terrifying antagonist!

Not for long.

"That's enough," Ruby says and one-shots it with her eyes.

Now, I want to talk for a moment about the implications of that line. "That's enough." Obviously Ruby is #done with this situation and emotionally unwilling to let the Hound kidnap Penny (congratulations, Nuts and Dolts shippers), but there's a meta reading here as well. Not intentional, but glaring to me nonetheless. Basically, the idea that the Hound has, from a plot perspective, done enough. It has served its singular purpose. It kidnapped Oscar and now it dies. Never-mind how insanely powerful we've established the Hound to be, never-mind how Ruby's eyes also work or don't work according to whether anything of actual import is on the line. From a plot perspective "that's enough" and the Hound can be disposed of instantly. It got Oscar and gave us an episode of filler creepiness. Move along now.

The idea behind Ruby's eyes isn't bad, but the execution absolutely is. RT has undermined a huge portion of the stakes by giving their protagonist an instant kill-shot that always works precisely when she needs it to. Starting with the Apathy, we have yet to get a moment where Ruby's eyes fail to save the day when she really needs them to, no matter how incredible the challenge. The Hound was very intentionally written to be a grimm outside of the group's current power level. It thinks, it talks, they literally can't touch it. This creates the expectation that the group will need to grow stronger — or at least become smarter — in order to surmount this new obstacle, yet Ruby's eyes undermine all of that. The group hasn't grown in years, the show just makes enemies weaker as needed (Ace Ops), or has Ruby pull out her eyes as a trump card. It wouldn't be that bad if we'd at least gotten a good battle out of it, one where the group gets close to defeating the Hound on their own, but needs Ruby's eyes to finish it off. Instead, she literally walks up without any aura, announces to the audience that this antagonist's time is up, and blasts it out a window.

Granted, Ruby's eyes don't completely finish it. The Hound pulls itself to its feet and we see this.

Yup, that's a guy and yup, those are silver eyes.

I would like to issue a formal apology to the "It's secretly Summer!" theorists in the fandom. I mean, I still think it would be ridiculous (and at this point highly improbable) that Ruby's dead mother has actually been a grimm mutant this whole time, just hanging out in Salem's realm while she waits for the plot to start before attacking the world, and then sends some no-name faunus dude after the group instead of their leader's mother for extra, emotional torture... but you all were definitely right about the “It's a person” part! I... don't know how I feel about this. Admittedly, it seems to be a logical continuation of the other grimm-human hybrids we've seen — namely Cinder and Salem herself — and it finally explains why Salem wants Ruby alive (even though it actually doesn't because WHY did she want more SEWs for Hound grimm when she wasn't even attacking back then? And already has all these other insanely powerful tools??), but at the same time, it feels like it's complicating a story that doesn't need further complications. The group fights monsters and has an immortal enemy. You don't need to add 'Some of those monsters are secretly human' to the mix.

It doesn't hurt that this twist is giving me Attack on Titan vibes, which, ew. A dark time in my fandom life, folks.

The Hound staggers a few steps before Whitley and Willow dump a suit of armor on it. That's all it takes to kill the most dangerous grimm we've ever seen: a single flash of silver eyes and some heavy metal. This also wreaks havoc with the implication that Salem wants SEWs alive because they create such powerful grimm. Obviously not. I mean yeah, normal huntsmen are going to have serious problems, we’ve seen that this volume, but any other SEWs nearby will take a Hound out instantaneously. For a villain with so many other powerful abilities — immortality, magic, endless normal grimm, her nifty soup — Salem would be much better served just killing SEWs straight out. Clearly, creating Hounds isn't worth the effort.

The Hound leaves some bones behind and Ruby collapses to her knees, overcome with the knowledge that this was once a person. Again, uncomfortable Attack on Titan parallels.

We finish our premiere with Cinder clearing away rubble to reveal Watts. Honestly, I like that we ended on this because her rescue is hilarious. She just slings him over her shoulders like a sack of potatoes and blasts off with her magic fire feet. Fantastic.

Note though that with this scene we've seen almost everything from the clip and the trailer. What's to come in the rest of Volume 8? No idea. Outside of Winter leading the charge with the bomb, we got it all here.

Time to update the bingo board!

I'm crossing off "Introducing new grimm that are quickly abandoned." Between the Hound and acid-dude both falling to a single blast/cut from Ruby, we've more than earned this square.

It doesn't look as if we'll get another Watts-Jacques team-up now that he's left, but you never know.

Maria's got me worried. I feel like her Yoda fight against Neo is the one thing she'll be allowed to do this volume, but given that we didn't see anyone except Ruby's group this episode, we don't yet know whether the story is now ignoring her and Pietro, or if they'll re-appear in another episode like YJR.

Qrow is free. Will he get a drink before trying to murder Ironwood? Perhaps.

Still no bingo :(

All in all, the episode was by no means horrible. I think there were lots of horrible parts, but also some legitimately well executed moments, fun action, and scenes that I can easily imagine as squee worthy if you lean back and squint. Everything is comparative and in the growing collection of bad RWBY episodes, this one isn't securing a top slot. Which doesn't mean I think it's good, just... not as bad as it could have been and primarily only bad due to long-running problems, not things this specific episode has done. That's my bar then, so low it has officially entered the underworld.

Still, RWBY is back and a part of me is eager to see where this volume takes us, for better or for worse.

Until next week! 💜

[Ko-Fi]

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #mymetas #rwby recaps #rwby dark

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rainingpouringetc · 4 years

Note

Hi! So, I’ve been wondering what the problem with Anna Lightwood is, because my brain saw that she was bending gender norms and hit love. But, now that I’m on tumblr, people are saying that she is problematic?

hi! i’ll try my best to explain, idk if i’ll hit everything but i hope this helps. and i’m sorry it took me a while, i wanted to do it justice so i tried to cover my bases and do my research.

basically, anna has said and done things that came across to many as ignorant, racist, and even misogynistic.

first, let’s look at “every exquisite thing” from ghosts of the shadowhunter market.

“If I were to tell my parents the truth about myself, if I were to reveal who I really am, they would despise me. I would be friendless, cast out, alone.”

Anna shook her head.

“They would not,” she said. “They would love you. You are their daughter.”

Ariadne drew her hand back from Anna’s. “I am adopted, Anna. My father is the Inquisitor. I do not have parents who are as understanding as yours must be.”

“But love is what matters,” said Anna.

this is from when ariadne was trying to explain why she would be getting engaged to charles. anna is very lucky: her family loves and accepts her and she’s able to live her life as she wishes, which we see her doing in chain of gold. ariadne, however, is not as lucky, and she has to take into consideration the conditions of her parents’ love. anna apparently struggles to understand this, ignoring ariadne’s valid concerns and telling her that it doesn’t matter because “love is what matters,” as if it makes everything perfect.

this is where anna’s ignorance begins to show through. ariadne is: (a) a woman in the late 1800s/early 1900s (i don’t remember for sure what year this story took place but i’d assume 1900s), (b) indian at a time when india is under british rule, (c) adopted, and (d) a lesbian shadowhunter. we know enough about how intolerant people have been about homosexuality, but shadowhunters are a whole other story. put all of this together and you have someone who is terrified of letting down her family and being shunned by society more than she already has been. in ariadne’s mind, she has no choice but to hide who she is.

anna ignores this. entirely. she doesn’t take the time to talk to ariadne about her concerns, but rather skirts around them and insists that what she wants is what’s more important. this is highly indicative of her privilege and how she puts herself before others and others’ feelings.

now let’s look at chain of gold. there are two scenes in particular that i want to look at, but there are more.

“I quite like your mother. She reminds me of a queen out of a fairy tale, or a peri from Lalla Rookh. You’re half-Persian, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Cordelia said, a little warily.

“Then why is your brother so blond?” Anna asked. “And you so redheaded--I thought Persians were darker-haired.”

Cordelia set her cup down. “There are all sorts of Persians, and we all look different,” she said. “You wouldn’t expect everyone in England to look alike, would you? Why should it be different for us? My father is British and very fair, and my mother’s hair was red when she was a little girl. Then it darkened, and as for Alastair--he dyes his hair.”

“He does?” Anna’s eyebrows, graceful swooping curves, went up. “Why?”

“Because he hates that his hair and skin and eyes are dark,” said Cordelia. “He always has. We have a country house in Devon, and people used to stare when we went into the village.”

Anna’s eyebrows had ceased swooping and taken on a decidedly menacing look. “People are--” She broke off with a sigh and a word Cordelia didn’t know. “Now I rather feel sympathy toward your brother, and that was the last thing I wanted. Quick, as me a question.”

this scene is from cordelia’s tea with anna. i won’t touch so much on the “peri from lalla rookh” comment so much as i’m afraid i don’t feel well enough qualified or researched to adequately represent people’s concerns about this statement, but i do know that there were several posts going around about people discussing how it rubbed them the wrong way, so i thought i would include it as well.

the rest, though, is a bit more obvious. one of the things about books is that it can be more difficult to interpret someone’s words and their meaning because we don’t have things like tone or facial expressions or any of that unless the author explicitly includes it. however, we can draw on the way other characters react to certain comments. cordelia goes on the defense, answering anna’s question “a little warily,” setting aside her tea and explaining rather bluntly that not all persians look the same. it’s pretty easy to infer from her reaction that she’s uncomfortable from anna’s words. now, is that to say anna was intentionally being racist toward cordelia and her family? absolutely not. this is where microaggressions come into play. we see them with anna and also with matthew and even jessamine (though we see hers in the infernal devices rather than the last hours). microaggressions, while often unintentional, are still a form of racism. given the times these characters have grown up in, it’s not necessarily a surprise, but that certainly doesn’t excuse her behavior.

there is, however, a more intentional party to this scene that really rubbed me the wrong way. it’s her discussion of alastair. cordelia has just explained that alastair dyes his hair to stop people from staring at him when he’s walking down the street, and anna replies that she feels sympathy for him and that is “the last thing” she wanted. i understand that she has her own feelings about alastair, likely from listening to the merry thieves’ depiction of him, but that doesn’t excuse her. she even starts to say something about it, likely drawing on her own experiences of wearing menswear at a time when fashion was much more strictly regulated in society than it is today. but she stops herself and instead goes on to reemphasize her dislike for cordelia’s brother and changes the subject.

She held up a small black-bound memorandum book... “This,” she announced, “will hold answers to all our questions.”

...

Matthew looked up, his eyes fever-bright. “Is this your list of conquests?”

“Of course not,” Anna declared. “It’s a memorandum book... about my conquests. That is an important but meaningful distinction.”

...

Anna flipped through the book. There were many pages, and many names written in a bold, sprawling hand.

“Hmm, let me see. Katherine, Alicia, Virginia--a very promising writer, you should look out for her work, James--Mariane, Virna, Eugenia--”

“Not my sister Eugenia?” Thomas nearly upended his cake.

“Oh, probably not,” Anna said. “Laura, Lily... ah, Hypatia. Well, it was a brief encounter, and I suppose you might say she seduced me...”

i hope i don’t have to explain this one too much. there’s just something... unsettling about the fact that anna is held up as this feminist icon and yet she keeps a book with the names of and her encounters with all the women she’s slept with... and then reads those names aloud to everyone. it’s a bit much, don’t you think? and all of this is even without touching the leak we got about her and ariadne, which i’d rather not speculate on too much but is also quite damning.

all in all, i’d like to believe anna is really a good person who’s just misguided and confused, much because i love the idea of a genderqueer character, especially one in an era before stonewall, but her actions and behaviors have led me to believe that she has a long road ahead of her. as i said earlier this week:

let me get something clear: i would die for fanon anna but canon anna needs to get her shit together before i’ll willingly breathe in her direction

i really hope this was helpful... i did my best lol. if anyone else has more to add, please feel free.

#ask answered #anon #anna lightwood #tlh #the last hours #chain of gold

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sunnywritesstuff34 · 3 years

Text

Illusions

(Yayyyy. Another one. It’s been a while, sorry. just wanna preface this by saying that like... I usually don’t really give a shit about Obito, but I figured this was a natural progression of the story and I kinda wanted to try and dive into Obito’s psyche a little so. here we go. tell me what you think. @ghostjellyfishheart here’s the next chapter lol. pls mind the tw’s)

TW and CW for: MAJOR UNREALITY, seriously stay safe, Obito is kinda spiraling a lot, grieving, struggling with morality, drinking, alcohol, less then stellar coping mechanisms of all kinds, don’t do this kids, child death, ghost child, dead kid, you don’t like... see her die but Rin is very much not alive, references to suicide, implied suicide, the uchiha massacre is its own warning, murder, its bad. its just. its just bad. did I mention unreality? a lot of that, death of a family member, obito is having a hard time with feelings, probably dis@ssociation, pretentious symbolism, scratch that, definitely dis@ssociation

Obito Uchiha is upset.

And that is, frankly, ridiculous. Obito does not get upset. What does upset even mean? Is he sad? Mourning, perhaps? Or is he just worried? Either way, its borderline impossible. He shouldn’t be feeling anything. Obito doesn’t feel anything. Sure, he plays at it, when he’s Tobi. He feigns and pretends, he’s good at that. That is what he is, that is all he is. To Itachi, he is Madara. To Konan and Nagito, he is Obito. To everyone else, he is Tobi. Obito has taken on mask after mask after mask on in his life, both figuratively and literally. Sometimes he doesn't know where Obito ends and another begins. Obito does not feel anything, not for anyone that isn't Rin. Never for anyone that isn't Rin, and he left her behind a long time ago. And yet this boy, this child, has him reeling somehow. Has him… well, like before, the only word he can use is upset. He is rattled. And it has been so long, so long since he’s felt anything at all, that he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to fix it. He kept seeing Sasuke in his head, kept remembering memories from years ago when he thought about the kid being gone forever. He remembered the first few years Itachi brought Sasuke to the compound, he remembered spontaneously discovering his obsession with tomatoes by accident with Kisame (who would not stop laughing. He had just never seen anybody. Put an entire tomato in their mouth. And Sasuke did it like it was the most natural thing in the world! Kisame wouldn't shut up about it for at least a week). He remembered helping the boy train with his newly forged chokuto, he remembered the grim determination towards his family and how much it reminded Obito of himself, he remembered all of it. And none of that should have mattered, because it wasn't real. None of it was real, the next world would be. The next world with Rin and Kakashi and Minato-sensei still alive, a world without… without Sasuke. Or any of the other Akatsuki. And that was what he wanted. He was sure that was what he wanted. Only in his room could he show the weakness tightly coiled in his stomach. But there was a knock on his door and it made him straighten up, instantly putting the mask that he just took off back on his face. He walked to the door and opened it, only to find the older Uchiha brother staring back at him. Obito blinked.

“Itachi-san. What are you… what are you doing here? I- uh… come in.” Obito and Itachi sat down at the small table in Obito’s room and stared at each other awkwardly. “So… how can I help you?” Obito tried to ask, unsure of whether to say it like Tobi or just let his guard down and talk like himself (whoever that was). Itachi cleared his throat.

“You are the only person in this godforsaken place that has sake that's worth a damn,” Itachi explained calmly. He looked away. “It has… been a long week.” Obito could tell the truth in that statement just from his cousin’s voice. Itachi sounded exhausted, and the perpetual mask of indifference had begun to slip when his little brother went missing. The two of them looked at each other and came to an understanding. For the next few minutes, there was no talking. Obito grabbed some glasses and poured his strongest sake out for the both of them, and they drank in silence. They only actually picked up a conversation once they were both drunk enough for the awkwardness to melt away.

“He’s likely not dead,” Obito commented bluntly. Itachi only sighed.

“If he is, I have no idea what I'd do,” Itachi grumbled casually, like it was an ordinary thing to say. “Certainly wouldn't stick around here. Probably follow in Shisui’s footsteps.” Obito only nodded, knowing better than to pry on that particular bit of insight into Itachi’s life. They were silent for a few more minutes before Obito spoke again.

“The massacre,” Obito started. “I was long gone by the time it happened. What… are you and Sasuke really the only survivors as the rumors say?” Itachi nodded, throwing back another glass. Obito thought about that bitterly, about his grandmother who wouldn't have been spared. Itachi sighed.

“Right. I've never really talked about this with anyone, and Sasuke and I don't speak about it much. You know how sharingan awakening works, yes?” Obito nodded, mind involuntarily flashing to his own experience.

“Well I made some genuine friends on my genin team. It was the first time I ever had any friends.” Obito closed his eyes and took another sip. Friends, sharingan awakening. Being crushed under a boulder with your crying teammates looming over you. Thinking, no, don't cry, it doesn't hurt. It really doesn't hurt. I can't feel anything, please don't cry. Watching a particular white haired individual (a traitor, that traitor) desperately try to save you. Losing a part of yourself, a part of yourself you didn't even know you had, and giving it to someone else. Forever living with that, knowing that your other eye is somewhere, because you can still feel it, but not knowing much else. The aching absence that grows from that. He opened his eyes again. “I watched them die, right in front of my eyes. That awakened my Sharingan, and when I went home, my father congratulated me. He congratulated me. It was a nightmare and he was proud. I don't know, that always stuck with me. But anyway,” Itachi paused to drink more sake as the room spun. “Sasuke’s eyes woke during the massacre. I didn't get there in time. He watched our parents die, managed to hide in the closet and keep quiet the whole time so they didn't find him. I got there in time to stop them from killing him, and realized his sharingan had awakened because of everything. I wasn't able to save anyone, but I was able to save him, and that's all that matters.”

“I understand,” Obito replied evenly. “I know what it's like to be too late.”

Itachi’s eyes slid over to him. “Yeah well… whatever. The Uchiha had been planning a coup for a while. Danzo, he gave me a choice. Either kill everyone myself and have Sasuke be spared to live happily in the village. Or, to let them kill everyone, Sasuke included. I didn't… I refused either option and tried to get there but I was too late. They killed everyone in one night, a bunch of Anbu who were deployed for the massacre. Like I said, Sasuke managed to hide. I knew that Danzo would be after us, so I grabbed Sasuke and we got the hell out of dodge. He didn't speak for months afterwards. Not a single word, other than screaming during his nightmares. It was probably a little selfish, but I… I missed him. There was no more ‘Itachi, look at the score I got at the academy!’ or ‘Itachi look, look I learned a new move!’ There was just… nothing. He was so vacant. If he's dead- if he’s dead after everything we’ve been through, I don't- I have no idea what I'll do. We have to find him, and we have to kill the people who took him away from us. We have to.” I know, he wanted to shout. I know, I feel the same way, but I don't know why! Itachi left not long after that, stumbled back to his room, and Obito fell asleep in his armchair. That night he had a dream, a dream of Rin. it had been years since he dreamed of her, usually they were memories and bits and pieces, but this was different. He opened his eyes in his dream to a dark plane filled with ink, darkness stretching in every direction. It was a frequent setting he found himself in, usually the dream would be about him sinking into the oily substance until he couldn't breath. But this time it was low enough to wade in, his feet touching the ground, whatever that was. In the middle of the expanse, there was a bone white skeleton of some creature he didn't recognize, and Rin. He staggered towards her, and she hugged him without a word. In dreams like this he was always covered in blood, the Obito from years past. But now he was just him, and he was maskless.

“Just what have you gotten yourself into now, Obito?” she asked, and it sounded just like her. It wasn't her, he was fairly sure of that, he was dreaming for god’s sake, but it sounded like her. It seemed like her, and that was enough. “It's okay to be worried about the kid,” she said, running fingers through his hair while he tried to calm his breathing.

“It's not real,” he managed hoarsely. “None of it. Nothing in this world is real, I shouldn't feel anything. So why… Why do I…”

“Does it matter if it's real?” she asked. “It feels real. Maybe it is, Obito.”

“Obito is dead,” he whispered. “At least the one you knew- Obito doesn't exist anymore.” Rin only shook her head, looking past him at nothing at all and smiling sadly.

“I don't believe you,” she said evenly. “You're still Obito. No matter how many names you take or how many masks you wear, I know who you are. And I think you do too.”

“It's not real,” he tried again, weakly.

“If it's not real, then why do you help Konan with the dishes? If it's not real, then why do you want to save Itachi’s brother so badly? Why do you make plans for Nagato’s dream in the supposed next world when you don't have to? Why do you stick around Deidara to make sure he doesn't get killed? Why do you help Sasori with his puppets? Why, Obito?”

“I can't be Obito,” he muttered quietly. “He’s dead. He died with you.”

“He is right here. He is sitting here with me. You're still you. You'll always be you.”

“B-But…. But Madara-”

“Madara is dead,” she said with finality, shaking her head. “Madara is a dead man now. You are the only thing that can bring him back, and you have a choice.”

“I've never had a choice.”

“You do now. Madara isn't here.”

“This is all just an illusion.” She smiled sadly.

“I'm an illusion, Obito. Your world is not.”

His dream didn't fade out from there. One second he was sitting in a dark dreamscape with his dead friend, and the next he was in the Akatsuki lair, laying in an armchair, sitting up and gasping for breath. His back hurt and his neck was aching from the weird position he dozed off in, and Obito could already feel the nausea of an inevitable hangover coming on. Still, he sat up properly, stretching his neck and running a hand through his short hair. Itachi was probably passed out in his room or throwing up already, and Obito had a hunch that he’d be feeling the same way pretty soon. He looked down at the floor and forced his eyes to focus. He didn't have time for a drunken hallucination within a drunken hallucination. But when he turned his head, he felt himself recoil and raise his hands to his face. The orange plastic from the ground winked back at him. Obito had taken his mask off. And now it was cracked.

#yeahhhh #lol anyway #was this short?#maybe #Obito knew most of those details about the massacre #obito #obito uchiha #uchiha massacre #akatsuki #kisame #Sasuke Uchiha #itachi uchiha #uchiha itachi #naruto #naruto fanfiction #naruto fanfic #naruto au #unreality tw #madara uchiha

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simplaertes · 4 years

Text

OKAY here it is breakdown/rant over the rh apology.

bright side is looking up the waste of a tweet led me to see SEVERAL ah members reactions (presumably, they were pretty understandably vague tweeting) and they were so funny fdksal;fa;

anyways. back to the angry and depressing stuff. (under a read more ofc)

tl;dr: it was incredibly narcissistic and had some pretty clear hallmarks of complete manipulation. but like, i cannot stress enough. the narcisissm

these past few days have been a difficult time

okay, starting off strong, basic, and lame. pretty usual call to sympathy (boo hoo things have been hard for me)

but also, a little hidden here and VERY manipulative, is that he’s starting off with a relatable statement. “difficult time” yeah they sure fucking have been. anyone else saying that, we would all agree! it’s a textbook way to start off manipulation

without knowing exactly where to start...

ooooh here is where it starts getting interesting: this is what i like to call “anti-ethos” so in argumentative stuff, ethos is basically the plea to respect/authority/competence/etc. but this right here is the OPPOSITE of that... so what does THAT mean?

basically, it’s there as both a cop-out and another, subtler plea for understanding. “please be nice to me” it begs “i don’t know what i’m doing.” it’s a simple, one sentence way to buy yourself some leeway when you know what you’re abt to say isn’t the best. it’s like having to present in class and starting with a “well, i’m not entirely sure this is what was wanted....” it gains allowance from your audience in a sneaky kind of way

i want to say that i know i let a lot of people down, including those that i am closest too

textbook. it’s all so textbook it’s almost boring. the move here is he’s made himself look like he’s taking accountability and apologizing without doing EITHER of those things. also, look at those fantastic i-statements. “i want, i know, i let, i am” it’s just all about him, like always

also, great shoutout to the general language there: who did he let down? who is he closest too? it’s so incredibly vague. ALSO the way he says “let people down” is textbook downplay-- he doesn’t say what he did and phrases it to sound small, like a mistake rather than... what it is.

this is what i regret the most.

i think this was SUPPOSED to be a like, nice short statement that would hit hard. usually you only do short sentences like that when you’re sure they’re going to affect your audience? but like. this doesn’t work AT ALL which is why i’m prettyyyyyy sure there’s some narcisissm or smthn like that at play here

seriously, it just falls INCREDIBLY flat. letting down ppl you know is what you regret the most? not, y’know, DOING it? like jesus CHRIST. notice how he doesn’t apologize or say he regrets the actions once in this entire thing?? he just focuses on how the consequences have affected him. disgusting.

i take full accountability for the way i’ve conducted myself over these past years.

once again, he REFUSES to say what he’s done!! just talking himself around it. and using “conducted” there...... it’s written as though it’s all abt him, like, being a little creepy. it’s not abt how he “conducted” himself it’s abt how he GROOMED AND RAPED PPL!!

it was unfair to those i have hurt, unfair to my friends in the community, and most importantly -- unfair to my family

“unfair” is once again downplaying it, my friend. but i do think there’s a little bit of an attempt at ethos here..... by throwing in his “friends in the community” where he doesn’t have to, he’s reminding everyone who he is -- that he was, as of a couple days ago, revered. loved. looked up to.

also, bringing up his family to illicit sympathy for it. he’s STILL pushing this image of a “family man” and it’s DISGUSTING bc after all this, he’s made it very clear he doesn’t really care abt them at all

[stop harassing ppl paragraphs]

i agreed with this on first read and wasn’t going to comment on it but then i realized that’s what this part was meant for. it gives a break in talking abt things most ppl dislike him for, and makes you (the reader) AGREE with him, briefly. therefore, you form a comradery. this is argumentative essay 101: don’t start with the hard stuff, start somewhere everyone agrees and work from there.

as for providing clarity to my mistakes, i would like to state: i never set out to hurt anyone

calling them mistakes again, you know how i feel about that. also, the “providing clarity” part is so strange. once again he’s framing it like he’s getting ready to write an excuse, like he’s exonerating himself by saying he never “set out” to hurt ppl

i flirted with and had sexual relations with members of the community

notice how he doesn’t address anything other than that. all he owns up to is flirting and sex. he doesn’t address the age gaps, the money, the rape -- nothing. and look at what he calls them: members of the community. that he makes it so general and broad means it’s CERTAIN there’s far more victims than have come forward.

i am continually saddened to learn that my actions have contributed to anyone’s pain, especially as my interactions, as inappropriate as they were, always came from a place of what i thought was a shared connection

this is just. So Much. in one sentence. first things first: this sounds like a robot wrote it?? or someone who never experienced human emotions?? like seriously. saddened??? saddened was the best word you could come up with for that??? like. try horrified, floored, distraught, but SADDENED?? it just goes to show how UTTERLY disconnected he is

and then!!! we get to the meat!!!!!! he says “contributed” instead of “caused,” alleviating himself of some responsibility and throwing subtle shadows on the girls who have come forward -- basically “well. they’re all a bit off in the head” in fewer words. also, using “interactions” there is just so fucking strange as well. you weren’t “interacting” with them. he said what he was doing (at least loosely) earlier in the paragraph, so once again he’s DOWNPLAYING IT

THEN there comes the SHARED CONNECTION. HOOOOOBOY. i have a theory on what this shared connection could be.................. love of fucking ryan haywood. bc it’s becoming more and more clear that ryan really, really loves himself. wtf else could he have possibly believed he shared with these victims??? i cannot see it.

i apologize for all the hurt i’ve caused... i may never redeem myself, but i am taking steps to be a better person

okay sorry most of that paragraph was pointless so i’ve cut it. here, in the final statements, we get down to it.... the real kicker... have you seen it yet? well, i’ll tell you: he didn’t fucking apologize for what he did. TEXTBOOK, TEXTBOOK, TEXTBOOK NON-APOLOGY. HOLY SHIT. he apologizes for the “HURT HE’S CAUSED” like waaaa baby }i’m so sorry you got hurt. not sorry i did it tho lol”

AND THEN: the one, final appeal to sympathy. the pledge to do better. doesn’t matter if it’s true, EVERYONE wants to better themselves in some way, so EVERYONE can relate to this!! everyone wants to do better and be better and he’s playing on those basic human emotions to illicit sympathy. GROSS.

basically, this was one of the most narcissistic, stupid things i’ve had to read in a while and I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS GUY IS STILL ON TWITTER HOLY SHIT.

at it’s most basic form:

he mentions himself (says i, my, etc): 37 times

mentions mistakes/accountability/unfair: 13 times

mentions his family/friends/community: 11 times

mentions the other victims: 3 times

...see the problem?

#mine #text #ryan haywood #for the blacklist #god this got LONG #i hope it makes any sort of sense #sorry guys i was VERY ANGRY

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