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thefanficmonster · 6 days

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Beautiful Things

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader (Female)

Warnings: SPOILERS for Bridgerton S3 part 1, Minor Period-typical sexism

Genre: Romance, Rivals to Lovers, Fluff

Summary: They're both brilliant, and brilliantly stubborn. What a pair they'd make.

Benedict tends to thread through life without as much as a worried crease on his features. There are very few matters he doesn't take to lightheartedly. That being said, it came as quite the surprise the sharp current of uncertainty that ran down his spine when he found himself standing in front of the monstrosity of a building that is the Royal Academy of Arts on his first day in attendance.

It took him and his charm less than a week to woo and work his way through the crowd of ambitious up-and-coming artists. He's always been an easy person to converse and unwind with. That aura around him naturally draws people to him like a magnet. It is a miracle the man hasn't been hunted down by a debutant already.

Not for a lack of trying, of course. The young ladies of the ton, especially the ones who have been freshy introduced into society have had their sights set on him since he himself made his way into the rhythm of the ton.

Nothing's ever fulfilled him, though.

Being the child of a marriage filled with love that has extended long past the death of his late father, he holds love to a high standard. A standard no one has even come close to reaching.

Watching his siblings find that very sort of love his parents had is a bittersweet sight to observe. It leaves him filled with joy on the behalf of his beloved siblings and it gives him a sense of hope that eventually he too might find what they managed to obtain - not without obstacles, though.

On the other edge of the sword, however, is the never ceasing worry that the problem might be his. That his lack of seriousness bordering into blatant avoidance of the ladies of the ton is to blame for his unmarried status. Perhaps it may be his overly romanticized view of love which he'd like to believe isn't the case. He's seen love of that caliber blossom time and time again in his own home. There's no reason to believe that his turn won't eventually come.

That his standard won't eventually be reached.

Speaking of standards on a lighter note, this painting he's currently standing in front of is disappointing even his lowest requirements for a decent painting.

It is absolutely atrocious, he voices his distaste only briefly and only mentally, never one to voice such critique unless it is cushioned by a smile and a quick-to-follow lighthearted remark.

"It is absolutely atrocious." There is a sharp edge to the voice that does opt to voice the very same thought out loud with far less regard for the negative attention it might garner.

Turning his head to the side, Benedict can't help the smile that immediately tugs at the corners of his mouth.

There, a mere meter from him, stands the ever so cutthroat, no-nonsense, ambitious beast of a woman that is Miss Y/N L/N. A smile rarely grazes her features, her eyes are always icy with an emotion bordering into boredom and a stature that screams authority.

And bloody hell does Benedict enjoy himself in her company.

She is the only student in The Academy he hasn't yet swayed, nor does he believe that he ever will. There are too many walls around her for him to even attempt to start breaking them down. He believes he'll sooner die of old age than succeed in reaching whatever human emotions she might exhibit around people she doesn't dislike.

When it comes to expressing distaste, however, she's not at all hesitant to share it.

"Oh, show the piece some mercy, Miss L/N. It deserves the grace of at least a spec of your kindness." Apart from perfecting his art, one of Benedict's favorite hobbies these past seven months would most certainly be pulling on Y/N's strings. Although it hasn't helped him form anything close to a friendship with her, it has aided him on the mission to get to know her better despite her being a sealed envelope of a person.

"I unfortunately do not possess plenty of it, therefore I can not be generous with it." She barely spares him a look as she speaks. That has been the case for half a year with no progress.

Still, he's willing to weld at the wax until he can pluck and read the letter inside. It is, after all, the bare minimum. He'd at the very least like to make her time at The Academy slightly more enjoyable. Being the only woman in the arts department, she's been rather ostracized which is typically the best case scenario. On the far worse end of the spectrum are the manner-less and, quite frankly, brainless 'gentlemen' who vary from not being able to keep it in their trousers to putting down her and her art which far surpasses their own.

If only they had that aforementioned missing brain intact, they'd see they're not even a quarter of the artist Y/N is.

That is one of the few things Benedict does not shy away from proclaiming with his whole chest. Although well aware that Miss L/N can handle herself gracefully and sharply as always, he never misses an opportunity to put the filthy men in The Academy in their place.

"I believe you possess far more kindness than you let on. Though, I understand completely why you'd rather not show it. None of these lovely gentlemen are deserving of it." The inflection of his tone on those two specific words wins him a scoff from her tightly pressed together lips.

A small win. Baby steps.

"I hope you are factoring yourself in when you use general terms of such sort. I have no evidence you are any better than them." She says, subtly motioning to the crowd of self-titled art experts around the venue where their final works have been displayed for renowned artists to come and rate in precisely half an hour.

Benedict had recognized her painting the second he stepped foot in the ballroom like gallery of The Academy. Needless to say, it put the rest to shame. Even his own, he has no problem admitting that. The emotions relayed in the painting, each brushstroke, every color, every line - they pulled him in the second he laid eyes on it.

And no, he most certainly is not biased. He's a very objective man when it comes to art. It might be considered a conflict of interest, though, because to him she is art.

"Believe me, my lady, I would hate nothing more than to boast myself but I still do believe I stand out from this pleasant crowd. For, as I was told, mine was the only painting you gave a stellar review for."

Professor Hedingale, although a man in his late fifties with a rather intimidating exterior and a permanent frown etched into his forehead, is a major gossip. He has taken a great favor to Benedict for his warm nature and shared love of observing drama as it unfolds. That being said, it took him a total of three seconds before he informed his student of Miss L/N's surprising review. She had not given the other paintings as much as a second glance, opting to say nothing rather than tarnish them the way they honestly deserved.

Had he not been paying such close attention to each line of her face, he could've missed it. Luckily for him, he did not. That brief fleeting moment of surprise widening Y/N's did not manage to go by unnoticed.

"I have a very high standard for beauty and would never stoop so low as to give a biased and unjust review. If I find something abhorrent, I say so. If I find something beautiful, I'd never not compliment it the way it deserves." Benedict almost flinches when she turns to face him, establishing intense and quite entrancing eye contact. "I am not mean, Bridgerton. I am simply honest."

Words burn dry on his tongue, his breath dissipating in his lungs. Had she still not been facing him, he could have come up with a timely response. But something about her gaze being so focused on him has turned his brain to a pile of pebbles. Not a single thought is passing through his head other than a fact he's long established. In fact, he came to learn it the very first at The Academy. Every day since it has only been confirmed time and time again.

She's absolutely enamoring.

The moment dissolves with the loud bang of the grand doors to the gallery being pulled open, allowing in the crowd of world renowned artists that now hold the students' futures in their gloved hands.

Benedict is not surprised by the fact that all these critical artists are men. He's grateful no artist's name has been listed by the displayed paintings, otherwise Y/N would have no chance at winning their favor. Not objectively anyway. At least one would have undermined her because, although talented artists, that doesn't exclude them from being close-minded fools. And at least one would try to butter her up for a potential courtship.

Yeah, that's not happening

Upon getting a better look, he finds himself pleasantly surprised by a head of long blonde hair, undoubtedly belonging to a woman. A woman whose work he's become very familiar with knowing Y/N is quite an admirer of hers.

"Eleanor Easton." The name comes out almost breathlessly, barely getting past Y/N's lips.

Turning his attention back to her, he's rather shocked to see what the nerves have done to her. She's shaking like a leaf, all the confidence she typically exhibits has drained from her body into a puddle on the tiled floor.

"You should go talk to her, express your admiration for her work." It is more an attempt at vexing her than a suggestion but it's in no way bad advice. Even though Lady Eleanor doesn't look like she'd take kindly to the gesture, it would be a noble attempt.

"Are you mad?!" Y/N whisper-yells, her eyes wide in panic as she spreads open the hand-held fan she's carrying to provide a soft breeze to her extremely heated face. "I could never possibly do such a thing!"

"Why could you not? It w....oh, she's looking right at us....." Benedict has barely finished his sentence before he feels a gust of wind rush past him in a blur of sparkling fabric, lace and silk.

For a solid second or two, he's torn on what to do. Although his initial intention was to vex her, he's now worried she might actually be dissolving in a nervous frenzy and he can't let her tarnish months of work because of some jitters. He too would be a wreck of similar caliber if any of the artists he idolizes were to show up and he too would prefer someone snap him out of it.

So, he follows her out the wooden doors that lead to a maze of intertwined halls, the walls of which are immaculately hand painted. For a moment, he panics, worried he won't be able to find her on time in the chaos of intertwining hallways and painting rooms. But then, he remembers that he indeed knows her better than he thought.

He finds her exactly where he thought he would - standing in front of the wall painting he often finds her looking at in awe. She's never explicitly stated so, but he knows it's her favorite.

To say Y/N is not happy when she spots him would be an understatement, "Oh. for heaven's sake, can I not get a moment without you pestering me?"

He takes her words with an eye roll, "No. I am bringing you back in that gallery. You are going to stand tall and remain collected when they announce your painting to be the equivalent of the Diamond of the season. Do you understand?" He surprises himself with the tone of seriousness his voice has taken on.

See? He can be serious when he wants to be.

She lets out a frustrated sigh, vigorously waving the red fan in her hand in a pointless attempt to collect herself, "Bridgerton..." She closes her eyes for a second as to not spit everything she'd very much like to say. Still, she is a lady, though. "I am asking you to leave my sight in the next five seconds, for you are getting on my nerves."

With two long strides, Benedict minimizes the distance between them, passing the social boundary for respectful space and bordering onto a scandal if someone were to see them. He doesn't care, though. Most romances he's witnessed, if not all, began with a scandal.

Now it's his turn.

"Oh, is that so? Am I getting on your nerves, Y/N?"

"You're getting on my nerves, Benedict-" Her words come to a sharp end when he swipes the fan from her hand, halting the consistent motion. That seems to have been her last straw of composure, seeing as how the hand that formerly held said fan is now clenched in a tight fist and her eyes are squeezing shut. "You pesky, vex...-"

How rude of Benedict to interrupt the lady yet again, is it not? This time he does so by busying her lips with his own. He braced himself for a potential slap on the cheek before even leaning in but the impact never comes.

What he did not prepare himself for was her rather welcoming response, allowing herself to momentarily forget everything else and melt into the rhythm of the kiss. Melt into him. Her arms instinctively wrap around his neck while his hold her waist, fearful of her dissipating like a dream before his eyes.

It pains him that he has to end a moment of such culmination. A moment that the seven months they've known each other inevitably led to. However, they can always pick up this conversation later. For now, Y/N has credits to earn and a painting to be prized.

So, against his instincts, he pulls away.

"This isn't over." He says, his lungs catching up on minutes worth of air they didn't properly receive, "But for now, we have other matters at hand." With a tilt of his head, he motions down the hall - a clear insinuation.

With a similarly disappointed expression and an even more disappointed sigh, Y/N brings herself to nod. She reaches out to retrieve the fan from him which gives him the opportunity to sneak one more quick kiss just as a door opens further down the hall, rudely tearing them apart from one another.

Smacking him lightly with her fan, Miss L/N can't suppress the laugh that Benedict's smug prideful expression provoked from her. She accepts the arm he's offered her and allows him to lead her back the way they came from.

"What you said about beauty and how it should never go uncomplimented..."

"Yes?"

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to say you're ravishing."

Another laugh breaks the illusion of her icy demeanor, "Why, thank you, Mister Bridgerton. Your painting was quite easy on the eyes as well. Professor Hedingale did not lie. I must say I'm impressed."

"Although I will accept the compliment, I'll have you know there's plenty you are yet to see. This is nothing. Prepare yourself to be truly impressed."

Giving his arm a subtle squeeze, she flashes him one last smile before they enter the gallery once more, "Doubtful."

That's the thing about rivalry, dear reader, it brings out the good, the bad and the beautiful.

The rest is best kept behind a close door, if you know what this author is alluding to.

#bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict x reader #benedict x you #benedict smut #polin

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sp0o0kylights · 11 months

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Steve and Gareth as Cousins, no longer a warm-up and now called Lifelines, part three! I’ll throw it up on A03 when I finish the fourth part.

Prior parts can be read here: Part One / Part Two

First things first, the most amazing @ sereinpetrichor managed to track down the OG Twitter thread this runaway train is based off of!

It was this thread by @gatorthots, the Tumblr version of which can be read, here. All blame for this idea firmly rests on their brilliant, plot bunny inducing shoulders.

The other, follow up thread I mentioned was this one by Silas, whose tumblr name I do not know.

As always and forever, shout out to the most amazing @chalkysgarbagefire who helps me edit/plot/pats my head while I’m crying in their inbox bc the words aren’t wording right.

Warnings: Steve and Robin are canon (S3) drugged. I took a slightly (kinda sorta) more realistic approach. Vomit mention, canon threat of violence/guns (the Russian guards) Mention of pantsing/past bullying, Steve and Robin’s drugged asses not understanding personal space, Dustin’s canon...Im gonna go with assholishness? but like, I think its more than he’s a young kid and doesn't quite have the emotional growth/awareness yet in this kind of insane situation to know how to react to the whole address/torture bit (really who does)/its a defense mechanism--and Gareth sort of has a panic attack.

Whatever the hell they had been drugged with, Steve and Robin went from 'giggly happy fun time' to 'vomiting into toilet bowls while loudly wishing for death’ awfully fast.

Gareth was not an expert on drugs. He knew Eddie wasn't either (the guy never dealt anything stronger than your average psychedelic--had some agreement with his Uncle about only selling "the 70s basics") and repeated looks towards him proved Eddie was still trying to figure out what Steve and Robin were on.

Answers hadn't exactly been forthcoming--Eddie's gently made attempts at ferreting out information had only caused more confusion.

Like why the two of them were so freaked out about a gate, or what had made Robin gasp, and then laugh so hard she cried when Steve had made a particularly rough noise then muttered; "Even that sounds better than Tammy Thompson."

Either way, Gareth was mostly trying to figure out what the hell they were going to do, because sobering up in a busy, public mall wasn't exactly the best idea.

"I regret," Robin tried to say, in-between gagging. "I regret--hrk--"

"Me too." Steve moaned, head resting against the stall wall. Gareth, still caught up in panic, had been permanently regulated to door guard while Eddie alternated between sweet talking, rubbing backs and offering quietly whispered advice.

"Let's go back in time and ignore the whole silver cat thing." Robin continued, slumping back down onto the floor.

"Wouldn't have mattered." Steve muttered. "Dustin would have figured it out without us. Kid’s too damn smart."

"So?" Robin grumbled, quietly thanking Eddie as he once again brushed her hair out of her face.

"So he would have gone down there anyway, which means I'd be down there anyway." Steve concluded. "We shouldn't have gotten you involved though."

He shakily pushed himself up, staggering to his feet and looking like bambi on ice while doing it.

Eddie quickly came round to offer his help, hands spread as Steve groaned out a curse and clutched his head.

The older took a step forward right as Steve lurched back, unbalanced and shaky.

"Oh shit." He said, eyes wide as he crashed backwards into Eddie, the latter catching him with a grunt.

Despite the entire situation, Gareth found himself stifling a laugh as Eddie wrapped his noodle arms around Steve's chest, trying to hold the other up without falling himself.

"Come on big boy, why don't we just siiiit back down." Eddie said, slightly breathless as he helped guide Steve back to the floor. "There we go…"

They did so outside the bathroom stall, Eddie sinking into a kneel as Steve sort of flopped down on top of him.

Blinked a few times, like the drop had rattled what little sense he’d managed to recover in the last few minutes.

A pleased noise came out of his cousin's throat, and holy shit was Gareth going to have blackmail for life, because rather than vacate Eddie's lap, Steve just turned around in it.

Reached up with one finger outstretched and proved himself to be very much still under the influence as he touched Eddie's nose.

"Boop!" He said, and then giggled as Eddie dropped onto his ass in surprise.

Gareth watched Robin as she took the whole thing in, from Steve's snickers to Eddie's shocked expression, eyes growing wide in excitement.

He failed entirely to cover his own amusement when Eddie abruptly found himself with two sailors invading his personal space, each taking turns to boop his nose.

“Uh.” He managed to get out, blinking rapidly and at a loss for words. “Ah.”

Steve caught the metalhead’s awkward, red-faced expression and proceeded to drop his head to Eddie's shoulder, muffling his laughter against the man's vest.

The helpless look his best friend sent him was one Gareth would remember for a long time.

“O-kay.” Eddie said, frazzled, as Steve recovered far too quickly, turning to rest his cheek against a slim shoulder as he walked two fingers up Eddie’s battle vest and towards his hair. Likewise, Robin had discovered Eddie’s wallet chain, and had begun fiddling with it.

One finger curled around a strand of brown hair and Eddie jerked his head, removing the tempting piece away from Steve’s hands.

“I know you’re used to getting whatever you want, your highness.” He said, his own hand smacking against his waist before Robin figured out the other end of his chain ended in a handcuff, “But you of all people should know the hair is off limits.”

Completely undeterred, Steve just gave him a loose, easy grin. “It’s so pretty though.” He complained, fluttering his eyelashes in a blatant attempt to try and turn on the ol’ Harrington charm. “You can touch mine if you want.”

Yeah, Gareth’s blackmail was getting better by the second.

He might even get a new piece for his drum kit out of it, if this kept up.

Free weed too, considering Eddie’s blush was now fire-engine red.

“Man,” Eddie said in a clear bid to deflect the entire situation (and Steve’s fingers) away from his hair, “the last time someone called me pretty was right before I got pantsed—-is Tommy H hiding in one of the stalls again?”

Steve picked his head up, confusion crashing down his face.

“Did he do that?” He asked.

Then, with growing horror; “Do you think I’d do that?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that your whole little court’s M.O.?”

Steve sucked in a breath, looking downright hurt. "I wouldn’t do that." He insisted, eyes wheeling from Eddie to Gareth and back, as though hoping Gareth would back him up.

“I’m not--I’m not friends with Tommy anymore.” Steve continued, voice growing smaller as he spoke. “I’m not friends with anybody anymore, except maybe Dustin.”

It sounded so defeated; trodden on and subdued that Gareth stepped forward automatically, to do--something.

Provide the fucking comfort his cousin was oft denied and hug the guy.

As always, it turned out to be the wrong move.

"Oh thank god." A kid said, seconds after bulldozing through the main door and nearly bowling Gareth over in the process. "I found them!" He shouted over his shoulder as swept into the room.

“Speak of the devil.” Steve said flatly, and even drugged, he managed to pull himself back together from distressed to stoic in mere seconds.

The curly-haired kid--Dustin apparently--stormed right up to the pile of humans splayed on the floor, hands on his hips. "What the hell. We told you two to stay put!"

Steve rolled his eyes as Robin booed him.

“Have you forgotten what’s happening? Or how we’re kinda in a Red Dawn situation?” Dustin continued, looking like he’d just escaped from a summer camp.

The kid even had a walkie talkie clutched in one hand, of all things.

“We know.” Steve and Robin deadpanned at once, before looking at each other; Steve pointing a finger towards Robin and Robin pointing one back.

This caused the kids to trade their own long suffering, “can you believe this shit” faces.

"We need to go, and the only way we’re gonna get out of here unnoticed is if we blend in with the crowd." Dustin said impatiently. “Now come on Steve, get up already, you've had worse.”

"I really don't think I have." Steve muttered, but moved to push himself to his feet anyway.

Eddie beat him to it, and he and Gareth both hovered nearby in case Steve was still unsteady.

Thankfully, the kids' presence seemed to sober up Robin and Steve both.

Not actually sober, that wasn't how drugs worked, but whatever was left of the fun was sucked right out of the bathroom, replaced by two teenagers who were sort of functional on whatever they'd been drugged with.

Stress and adrenaline, Gareth knew, could overcome a lot of things. Including Russian "truth serum" apparently.

“Yeah well you're lucky you got found by these guys and not anyone else. " Dustin continued pointedly, before turning his attention towards Gareth and Eddie both. "Thanks for watching our friends, but we've got them from here."

Gareth made a sort of unhinged, disbelieving noise.

“No, no you do not.” He declared, anxiety clawing at his gut at the mere thought of abandoning Steve to two children.

"I don't think you heard him." The girl stepped forward, braids swinging about her face as she lifted her chin and nailed him with a cold glare.

As if this entire situation couldn’t possibly get weirder, Gareth suddenly realized she had a helmet in her hands and knee pads on.

"He said we got this. So scram." She flicked her fingers out in a dismissive sort of "shoo" gesture.

"And leave my drugged cousin with his new girlfriend behind!?" Gareth challenged right back, emotions far too raw and frayed to care he was snarling at a little girl. "I don’t think so!”

"Cousin!?" Dustin bit out, sounding almost betrayed for some reason, at the same time Robin who'd been climbing to her feet with Eddie’s help, shouted; "I am not his girlfriend!"

Steve, clearly unwilling to entertain whatever fight was brewing, clapped his hands together.

"Yes cousin, Dustin. It's a type of family member." Steve said, after they all flinched and looked to him. He at least looked steadier on his feet this time, though Gareth still lingered nearby in case he took a wrong step.

"I know what a cousin is, Steve!" Dustin shot back.

“Then why are you acting like a lunatic?” Steve complained, and Gareth got to watch in real time as Steve pulled on the persona he often wore in high school down around him. “You said it yourself, we don’t have a lot of time. Worse, I don't know if anyone saw Gareth and Munson here with us.”

He jerked a thumb sideways in Eddie’s direction, not that anyone couldn’t figure out who “Munson” was.

“They stay with us until we’re out of this mall.” Steve finished, before he started towards the door.

One step he was Gareth’s cousin, drugged and vulnerable because of it.

The next he stood taller, talked smoother, took charge with an aurora that said he expected everyone to listen to him.

It was fake as hell, but it worked.

“I know you’ve got a plan Dustin, so spill it.” He commanded as he walked.

Dustin, despite all the squawking, did just that.

xXx

Of all the things Gareth had expected to see upon escorting their little ragtag crew out of the bathroom, groups of intimidating, mean looking assholes wasn’t on the list.

He found himself repeatedly nudging Eddie in the ribs, unable to take his eyes off what was clearly a checkpoint as he staggered to a halt.

It was one thing to be told people were after Steve and the “Scoop’s Troop” As Robin had jokingly named them.

It was another entirely to see the security guard directly in front of him look over a woman’s ID before apologizing to her, a sleazy grin matching his oily pony-tail as he waved her on.

They really were looking for someone.

Not someone, Gareth realized in dawning horror.

Them.

Robin apparently, came to the same conclusion seconds later, because she snatched Steve and Dustin’s arms both, hauling them backwards.

“Argue about Dustin’s address later, we need to find a different way out.” She hissed quietly as she tried to slowly reversed direction, movements still a bit sloppy.

She might have even gotten away with it, had Sleazy Pony-Tail not turned and made eye contact with Gareth right after she spoke.

His eyes swept over him, then to the rest of the group, freezing like a cat that had spotted its prey.

“Abort, abort!” Dustin sputtered, wheeling about on his heel.

Erica, whose name Gareth had learned when she kicked him in the shin after he asked why an actual infant was running around with Steve and Robin, pointed towards the escalators before she beelined over to it, ducking into the center and riding it down like a slide.

Something Eddied was downright delighted to copy.

Gareth might have enjoyed it himself, had he not been looking over his shoulder to see not one, not two, but four security guards giving chase--and gaining.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckikity fuck.” He heard Robin chant as she shot past, Steve planting himself at the top as he made sure everyone got down to the next level before sliding down himself.

"Do not let them leave!" One of the guards yelled to the others, accent clear as a bell.

"Holy shit that guy's actually Russian." Gareth found himself saying as he skidded across the floor and bolted after the others, Steve hot on his heels.

He had kinda expected the Russian thing to be some sort of drug influenced inside joke and not an actual, honest-to-God Soviet.

Which led to the question of why the fuck adult men in security uniforms had drugged random teenage retail workers.

Food workers.

Whatever the fuck one called a two people who scooped ice-cream in sailor costumes.

"There's another group up ahead!" Eddie yelped, swerving sideways and nearly taking Erica out while doing it.

Noise erupted ahead of them in the form of foreign shouting and loud, harshly barked commands to “Freeze!”

‘Oh hell no.’ Gareth thought wildly, as he caught the form of the giant fricken gun the guard closest to him held.

“Split up!” Dustin howled, and before anyone could comment about how bad an idea that was, Gareth found himself being yanked sideways.

Steve swore loudly behind him as Robin, who’d crashed backwards, pulled him in the opposite direction and in a second their group broke in two. Gareth, Eddie and Dustin going one way, Steve, Robin and Erica another.

"This isn’t happening." Gareth muttered, words made in a sort of pleading denial as he and Eddie turned the corner and immediately vaulted over the counter of an Orange Julius. “I smoked or drank or did something and this is a hallucination that is not. Actually. Happening.”

Dustin at least, was smart enough to dive around the counter instead of over it, sliding towards them on his knees.

Eddie quickly yanked him down to the floor in-between himself and Gareth once he was close enough to grab, one hand going over the hat to shove the kids head down.

Annoying or not, he was at least several years younger than them, and Gareth could practically feel Eddie’s protective instinct kick in as he kept his hand on Dustin’s head.

Together they tried to silence their breathing as the guards’ shouting continued on behind them.

What was worse than their noises though, was when they unexpectedly and suddenly, went silent.

Gareth’s breath felt far too loud as the stillness gained a suppressive weight, pressing down harshly against him and making it harder and harder to inhale.

‘Panic attack.’ He realized, thoughts a touch detached. ‘You can’t afford to have a panic attack right now.’

Not when it had a high chance of getting them all killed.

Slowly he moved his own free hand, placing it atop of Eddie’s, fingers gripping down in a way that was no doubt painful.

Eddie glanced over to him and Gareth thanked every single time he’d smoked way too much weed, because his best friend immediately clocked what was wrong.

Turned his hand over, so that Gareth could hold onto it atop Dustin’s hat.

It didn’t help with the knowledge that his very much still drugged cousin and his equally drugged not-girlfriend were also hiding somewhere, or that there was significantly more Russians than there where terrified teenagers (and one--whatever age Erica was.)

Flashlights cut shapes into the wall overheard, trailing along the Orange Julius menu. Quiet voices covered even quieter footsteps and Gareth had the sudden realization the probability of there being more than one guard carrying a huge gun, was very, very high.

Worse?

This part of the mall wasn’t that big. There were only so many places to hide, and as such, only so many places to look.

Death comes for everyone eventually, but Gareth hadn’t exactly expected it to show up before he hit twenty.

Not that they could do anything but wait. Pray to God and the universe and any other higher power he could think of to intervene, head pressed hard against the wood behind him as the small noises drew nearer.

What he hadn’t expected was for said prayers to get answered in the form of a of a fucking car being thrown into the Russian’s like bowling balls.

“Run!” Dustin shouted, and Gareth wasted absolutely no time in doing just that.

The only goal on his mind was to find Steve, get out, and then have a very long discussion about what the hell this all was, in that exact order.

#fun fic facts I kept writing Orange Julius as King Julian #so thats my new fake 80s store #Tagline can be “yay I’m a sacrifice!”#Pre steddie #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #gareth emerson #platonic stobin #gareth is eddies robin #gareth is steves cousin #gareth and steve cousin au #Poor Dustin is mad jelly steve has a cousin that isnt him #we will dig into that later #tw drugs #tw vomit #tw guns #tw panic attack #Steve and robin have already had their scene I just moved it back so he is aware she is a lesbian #I will make it clearer in the next part #Drugged steve has no personal boundaries and homeboy would not at this point consider the stuff wit heddie flirting with Robin ALSO #digs into later #that was gay steve #HELLA gay #the more robin gets to know steve the more shes convinced half the basketball team is queer af #0o0 fanfics #denial is a river in Egypt that Gareth is struggling to swim down

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heliads · 4 months

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boy; girl; dragon

Hiccup only needs two things. He knows he can rely on both forever.

masterlist

There is a boy, and he has a girl. And also a dragon.

The order matters. He had the girl first, even if he didn’t know it yet. She didn’t say a word to him about the feeling beating against the bars of her ribs like a dove in a cage, not until he did first. The dragon helped things along, surprisingly. Usually, fire-breathing reptiles can only complicate a situation, but when two young people are soaring through the sky with only the billowing light of the sun and stars around them to bear witness to the truths they have to tell, secrets end up not so secret anymore. Hiccup told you he loved you. You said the same.

The dragon watched, and listened, and waited. It, of course, had known the whole time. Almost everyone did. Tact is a rare occurrence among the Vikings, but the people of Berk could tell that interference in the story of you and him, him and you, would not bode well. You and Hiccup were something different, something special. You didn’t need anyone but each other. And the dragon.

Loving a Viking is dangerous. Loving Hiccup was so far along the line of adventure and risk that even your first kiss felt like throwing off your armor to embrace a knife in your chest. If this was pain, though, it was the loveliest anguish you had ever experienced in your entire life. Falling in love with Hiccup was brilliant, like dragonfire; exhilarating, like tumbling in freefall; unfailing, like the son of a chieftain knowing that he would send his entire village to keep you safe from harm or die trying. Staying in love with him was soft torchlight, quiet mornings, wispy clouds around your temples when he took you up to see the stars. Easy. Perfect. And yours, all yours.

The two of you are together now, sitting side by side on the edge of a cliff. Most of Berk is rocky with occasional splashes of slate blue or chestnut wood to break up the monotonous grey, but tenacious patches of grass have managed to crawl up to the top of the cliffside here, providing you with a threadbare emerald blanket on which you can rest your legs.

A cool wind whistles through the air, toying with your hair and clothes before plunging off the edge of the rock face. You watch it go, taking a few errant leaves with it, and consider the drop down to the sea below you.

“If I fell right now,” you say to Hiccup, “off the side, you would catch me.”

“I would catch you,” he affirms. “Dragon or no dragon.”

“What if I fell too fast and you couldn’t reach me in time?” You ask.

He takes your hand, voice soft and gentle in the early morning. You’ve heard him louder and more assertive when directing the villagers, but you like him best like this, when Hiccup’s peace is only ever meant for you. There is an entirely different young man who exists only when he’s alone with you, a Hiccup that no one will ever know as well as you do. It is a delight to keep the secret of this second, inner boy. It’s a treasure that will only ever be claimed by you, a sparkling spread of gold and jewels captive to one person and one person alone. Not even blood relations can claim that sort of glory.

“There is nowhere you could go that I would not follow,” Hiccup asserts. “Not off the cliff. Not into the sky. I would follow you past the sun, or a hundred thousand lengths in the sea. I would search the world to find you, if I had to, and I would bring you back with me. Always. Do you believe me?”

“I do,” you whisper. “Always.”

“Always,” he repeats, and presses a kiss to your temple.

This is loving Hiccup, then. Always. Always the guarantee of a heart beating in tandem with yours. Always the confidence that you will not be alone in this world of yours, even as it seems to stretch out forever, even as it looms to hide a hundred friends or a thousand enemies. If the odds are with you or against you, you will have Hiccup to guide you through the trials and tribulations of this life of yours. It is written in the stars, and it is sworn by the one you love. No promise could be greater.

The two of you will descend into legend, into myth, into folklore. Never in the world have any two people loved each other more, and never will they again. Every young pair thinks that they could have this, a love to last a lifetime, but you and Hiccup will do them one better and last a thousand more. You could love him in every universe, every incarnation of yourselves, and Hiccup has already promised to be by your side no matter who you two were. Gods, maybe. Heroes or villains. Ordinary lives or glorious ones. All of them will feature the two of you together. Always.

A shadow briefly blots out the sun overhead, a pair of jet-black wings soaring through the early morning skies. As it loops and wheels towards the two of you, its shade flickers across the trees, dappling them with night’s fury even as the sun climbs higher into the sky. It occurs to you that you’d like every day to start and end like this one, for each one of your hours to be filled with this sort of blissful joy. You don’t need riches, you don’t need a legacy. All you need is right here before you. A boy and a girl. And also a dragon.

disney tag list: @blondsauduun, @lovesanimals0000, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @avadakadabra93

also tagging @hope92100 bc HICCUP

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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miraclewoozi · 2 months

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FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE. -l.c

pair : dino x fem!reader. prompt : “say you want me, and i’m yours.” SMUT. MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT. wc : 5k. heads up / smut tags : ex-boyfriend!chan. everyone’s down horrendous. drinking/some alcohol consumption prior to the fucking (they aren’t drunk tho). chan is able to lift reader and carry her a short distance. oral (f rec). backshots. unprotected p-in-v sex. reader has solid arch game. chan calls reader good girl/pretty girl/ baby. it’s all very needy. notes : i had idubilu chan on the brain for a big portion of writing. this was supposed to be a drabble and then ended up longer than some of my actual fics, so. bon appetite i guess?

There’s a list of places you think you’d be okay to run into one of your exes.

In the grocery store, for starters. At the gym. In a bar, at your favourite pizza place, the library… None of them would exactly be fun, but one way or another, you believe that they would all be quite manageable.

Further down are family events. While on a date with someone else. At the beach, or a swimming pool. A doctors office. Considerably more uncomfortable. Would probably warrant a large glass of wine as soon as you got home. You would live, though. No doubt about it.

But at a wedding? Not only is it not on there, it’s quite high up on its own index.

The Crisis List.

Yet this is the position in which you find yourself on this beautiful summer’s evening. You suppose it’s sort of what you get for letting yourself be set up with a friend of a friend while you were in college and mixing your social circles: this is some sort of twisted, universal revenge. But of all the places you’ve pictured running into Chan and succeeding to pace yourself through awkward small-talk before parting ways again… you never imagined that a celebration of eternal love would be the setting.

You recognised the sound of his voice pretty much as soon as you arrived, but you were thankfully seated on opposite sides of the aisle during the ceremony itself. It was therefore pretty easy to keep your eyes off him and instead focus on what was going on at the front of the room. This wasn’t so simple when you only knew one other person at your table during the dinner service and Chan was seated barely ten feet away, and every time you glanced over to him, he was blowing bubbles and entertaining a group of young kids. Every time he laughed, or even every time he made one of them laugh, your head would snap over on instinct. Though you locked eyes with him a few times, mostly you were able to look away again before he had the chance to catch you.

Regardless, seeing that brilliant smile from across the room full of strangers made your stomach twist, so much so that you couldn’t even finish your dessert.

Thus far, the day has passed without any real incident; dinner was three hours ago and you’ve managed to avoid him almost perfectly. You keep telling yourself that if you can just make it a little while longer, you’ll be able to go back upstairs and retire to your hotel room, and maybe even eventually, this will become another one of those memories you can laugh about with your friends.

Just a little while longer.

In the meantime, a stool at the very end of the bar is your sanctuary and it has been for so long that your ass has started to go numb. With more people in attendance at the reception than there were at the ceremony and dinner portions of the day, you’re doing a pretty fantastic job keeping your distance from Chan. His friends, too. Everyone, if you’re being completely honest: with your back to the room at large, you could forgive anyone here for assuming that you peaked early, got wasted and just no longer have the legs to move from your perch.

But the truth is that you’re still nursing the same flute of champagne you were given on your way in. Still drawing your fingertip round and around the rim of the same glass, wiping off the lipstick marks you leave with every tiny new sip. Still watching the same bubbles rise up and burst at the same surface. You’re about as sober as anyone on the planet has ever been.

At least, almost certainly, you’re the most sober adult in the building.

You know it’s not exactly fair to have removed yourself from the fun like this on the happiest day of your friends’ lives. You’re overjoyed for them, you really are, and you sort of wish you could just shake this off and go about your business, pretending he’s not here so that you could enjoy yourself properly. You’ve never claimed to be the life and soul of the party, but you know being so distant is a new look on you.

If only it was as easy as simply caring less.

But you’re surrounded by happy couples and faced with the man who is the definition of ‘right person, wrong time’. How can you possibly think about anything else?

Your spine tingles with the feeling of someone hovering behind you and you pick your glass up into your hand, ready to spin around and tell a concerned bride — for the fifth time — that you promise, you’re okay. To keep up the lie about the bellyache you’ve been pretending to have for an hour now just to get her to go back to her party. You square your shoulders and put a smile onto your face, but you don’t have the chance to turn around and put up a façade. The person — who is decidedly not who you were expecting — appears to your right instead, a solid frame in a black suit swallowing up your periphery. Your excuses fade away to static in your brain.

“Is this seat taken?” Chan asks, fingertips brushing over the leather of the chair adjacent to you. “Are you… waiting for someone?”

You shake your head, taking a deep breath. There’s no running away now. “Nope. All yours.”

He swings one leg over the stool and settles into it, both hands resting up on the bar. He, too, twitches his fingers against his glass. He, too, fails to even glance at you.

“Been a while, huh?” He says after a few seconds. Even though music continues playing behind you both, it’s nowhere near as loud as the thick, uncomfortable silence that had started to settle between you.

A while is sort of a massive understatement. You haven’t seen him in… four? Five years? Not since you left college and he accepted the job offer of a lifetime, pulling him all the way to the other side of the country. Not since, despite your shared willingness to try, you realised that the whole long-distance thing didn’t work for either of you; not since you ended up calling time on your relationship after just four months of being apart.

Ending things meant saying goodbye to amost two and a half years though, in total.

You’d you’d never been broken up with over a video call before. It fucking sucked.

“I didn’t know you were around,” you say instead of answering the obvious. “Are you just here for this, or…?”

Chan takes a long sip from his drink and finishes the glass, pushing it away from himself. He shakes his head, scrunching his nose a little. You were surprised not to see him with some sort of a whiskey in-hand, so his reaction to the chug makes sense: he was never that big into wines. Some things never change.

“I got promoted. Came with a relocation,” he tells you. This time, he turns his head and looks at you properly, a small smile tugging up the corners of his lips.

“Oh, shit. Congratulations,” you offer, tilting your now mostly empty glass in his direction before draining the little bit in the bottom, just like he did. You know it’s probably all in your own head that the fizz gives you a bit of a confidence boost, but you find the nerve to move to face him fully: you’ve never been one to turn your nose up at a positive coincidence, after all. “That’s amazing.”

“Thank you,” he says, bowing his head. “It’s… good to be back.”

A few seconds later, he tags on, “and it’s really good to see you.”

The bartender comes back to see if she can get you anything else to drink now you’ve finally finished your champagne and Chan puts his card down for a round of your choosing. It helps loosen up the tension in your shoulders, stops you bouncing your leg against the rest beneath your seat, makes it a little bit easier to settle into a back and forth with him. Eventually, the conversation starts to flow as if you were never really apart.

You laugh at his bad jokes. Chan shoves you playfully when you make some back. He gets so invested in catching up on what’s been going on in your life that he doesn’t even tell you what the promotion he got is, nor where he’s been relocated to.

As the following few hours tick by, he doesn’t leave your side. Even when people come over to talk to him, even when your friends’ eyes start to find you together and linger, as they attempt to read your lips, pick apart your body language, as they begin whispering behind their hands. He takes exactly one bathroom break, and he finds his way straight back to the chair he left. He even scoots it a little bit closer.

And the longer he stays glued to your left, the more you find yourself starting to hope a little harder that wherever he’s living now, it’s not too far away. That whatever him being ‘back’ means, something happens because of it.

Your something comes in the form of your companion trying to persuade you to get up and dance with him. He fails, numerous times; you have a whole arsenal of excuses, some of which are recycled and things that he heard a very long time ago, but others are new. He raises his eyebrows at a couple of them, though you don’t know if he’s just shocked at your attempts or actually impressed. None of them work on him though. You should have remembered that he wasn’t a quitter.

“My shoes hurt,” you tell him on attempt number five. “You go, I’ll stay here.”

Clearly, this line of defence isn’t good enough either.

“Just one song,” Chan asks again as he stands up from his chair and picks up one of your wrists, this time. You look down at where he’s holding you, but he doesn’t. “Please? Just… for me?”

“When was the last time I did anything ‘just for you’?” You scoff incredulously, shaking your head.

It doesn’t. His eyes soften and he takes a small step closer to you, those perfect lips of his pressing into a pout.

He drops his fingers lower and squeezes your hand lightly. “Too long ago. I miss it.”

Something in his stare looks a little far away and you wonder what exactly it is that he’s thinking about. Is he remembering the times you would bring him his favourite snacks when he was sick, ice his injuries after gruelling dance practices, brush sleep out of his eyes early in the mornings when he stayed up too late and couldn’t get out of bed, but really needed to make it to his 8AM classes? Is he remembering when you’d put band-aids on his papercuts? Make sure his laptop was fully charged when he had long study days? Pick him and his friends up from the bars and let him lean all his weight against you as you dragged him into your apartment?

(Those needy nights where you’d let him call you the prettiest girl in the world as he snuggled into your side and nuzzled his cold nose against your warm cheek? When you’d let him tell you, without even rolling your eyes, that you were his everything, the reason he had any strength, the love of his life, the only person he’d ever need—)

He uses your distractedness to his full advantage; as soon as the muscles in your arm go slack, he pulls you again and this time succeeds in getting you to your feet. You stumble a few steps towards him and he ends up leading you all the way over to the dance floor, grinning proudly the entire time.

“One song,” you stress, hanging your head to try and conceal the fact that you’re definitely blushing hard.

“Just one,” he lies, glancing back at you.

You know he's lying, too. High-flying job aside, he’s always been a dancer at heart: when he turns around to face you, there’s a glint in his eyes that says ‘one... or five.’

Confirming your suspicions, seven songs later, you’re still up there with him. You’ve stopped caring about your dumb shoes, or having too many sets of eyes on you, or whether anyone here is murmuring about it. How could you mind, when he keeps finding little ways to touch you again? When he’s singing his heart out, serenading you with corny 90’s love songs, hand on his heart and everything?

How could you mind, when he so clearly doesn’t care?

And the thing is… no part of you thinks that this is a bad idea. It could never be a bad thing to let somebody make your heart race this way and your brain so fuzzy; just seeing him grin at you as he extends his hand out, waiting for you to take it, feels like being twenty one all over again. And when he spins you and spins you and spins you until you’re dizzy, falling over your own feet and staggering until you land against his solid chest, laughing… when he catches you in both arms, and darts his tongue out over his lips at the exact moment you look at his face…

Perhaps your rare moment of unabashed bravery is spurred on by the way he drinks you up like an elixir. Perhaps it’s spurred on by the way he adjusts himself to hold you tighter against him, perhaps it’s spurred on by the fact that this right here is exactly what you feel like you’ve been missing. Whatever the reason, you hook a finger through one of the belt-loops on his pants and manage to find your voice long enough to speak.

“My room or yours?” You ask, quietly enough only for him to hear, loudly enough that he can’t mistake you.

Letting out a breathy chuckle, he brings his palm up between your shoulder blades. “Don’t care,” he says, ducking lower and brushing the tip of his nose against your own. “Just… pick one. As soon as possible.”

A few people have already started to leave: couples with young families, older relatives who are getting tired, friends who have work in the morning, so you don’t feel too bad about slipping out into the corridor with Chan in tow as soon as you’ve grabbed your things. The elevator door closes behind you and you feel the mechanism start to pull you upwards, away from the hotel’s function room and towards the fourth floor to your own suite. Chan presses kiss after kiss to the back of your neck as soon as you’re alone, hands slipping around your waist and joining together just below your belly-button.

“They have… cameras in these, you know,” you sigh, tilting your head to give him better access anyway.

He chuckles quietly, nosing just behind your ear. “Okay?” He says, kissing you there too, bunching your dress in his hand and pulling it a little higher up your thigh. “So what?”

“So… fucking… public indecency,” you laugh, a little taken aback by his brazenness.

It’s hard to be stern with him when he’s acting as if he never forgot how to press every single one of your buttons. Hell, as if he never stopped pushing them, in the first place. You lay one hand over both of his and squeeze gently, encouraging his teeth to keep grazing over the skin of your shoulder. You’ve never had any resolve when it comes to him. He clearly hasn’t forgotten.

Just as you’re relaxing into it, the elevator pings and you jolt away from him just in time for the door to open. The middle aged woman waiting to get in eyes you both as you rush out into the hallway and Chan grabs hold of your hand: you’re fairly sure she sucks her front teeth just before the door closes, but you don’t care. You’re too busy counting the rooms until you get to yours.

409, 410, 411…

“You look so fucking good right now,” Chan groans as you whip turn a corner and he quickens his pace to catch up, walking so fast he should probably be running instead.

421, 422…

“423,” you breathe, fumbling in your purse for the key-card.

In a flash, you wave it over the sensor and pull down on the handle: before you have the chance to get dizzy from the speed of the turn, Chan has you pressed against the door from the inside. He doesn’t wait to be invited. He barely gives you the chance to catch your breath from your power-walk from the reception. Both his hands press into your hips when he brings his mouth down against yours, lips scorching hot, lifted up at the edges in a grin. Your knees go weak and you hold onto his biceps for stability, which… maybe, with how thick and sturdy they feel beneath your palms, isn’t a great way to help you calm down.

When his tongue presses into your mouth and he tastes you for the first time in what feels like forever, you know the only thing keeping you standing is his strength. His hands, pinning you to the wood behind you. His body, pressing against you everywhere it possibly can. His muscular thigh, slotted between yours, giving you something to relax down against but also, to find a tiny little bit of friction from.

He dips down a little lower, looping his hands around you just below your ass, and with a quick movement he lifts you up off the floor completely. You hook your ankles together behind him, shifting to get higher up on his hips: when he steps away from the door, you drop your head down to his shoulder and a smirk replaces his prior very needy expression, feeling how warm you are at your core now your dress has hiked up around your waist.

“Say you want me,” he says, licking a stripe up the side of your neck. He knows you do.

“Huh?”

Chan repeats, “say you want me.”

You grasp harder at his hair and pull, but he doesn’t move away from your neck, just keeps kissing you at your sweet-spot until he’s walked a few paces to the middle of the room, holding you up over the hotel’s generously sized bed.

“Say you want me, and I’m yours.”

He’s… yours?

It takes you a moment to process it but you don’t have to think twice about how you respond, even though your stomach flips at this very open-hearted confession. The entire way back up here, part of you expected this to be little more than a one-night-only special event, but…

“Shit,” you whine, feeling his fingers slip beneath the thin fabric of your underwear at your hip and tug. He pulls back from you at the sound of your voice, determined to look you in the eyes when you say it.

Faces just inches apart, you admit, “I– I want you, Chan. Please. I want you so much.”

He bounces you up a little bit higher to get you to unhook your ankles and proceeds to basically drop you down onto the mattress, pushing both his shirt sleeves up to his elbows and reaching for his necktie. In a manner you can only describe as obscenely smooth, he grabs the knot and pulls, tugging it side to side to make it looser. The expensive silk comes undone easily. He balls it in his fist. You watch him toss his tie to the side, snap open a few more buttons, and with heavily lidded eyes, he plants one knee on the comforter, before crawling up the length of your body until you’re face-to-face again.

You take care of the remaining buttons on his shirt for him as he trails his lips all over your throat, your chest, your shoulders: even down your arms, to the crooks of your elbows, everywhere he can reach with your clothes still on. When his upper body is bare, he disregards the fact that you’re still wearing anything at all and kisses down your torso anyway.

He lays between your thighs and presses his lips to them, too, pushing your dress up higher until it’s bunched up around your ribcage. One of his hands pushes your panties to the side and the other one reaches up to grab hold of yours, pulling it down to lace your fingers back into his hair. You do as he silently asks, and you swear his eyes roll back into his head at the first little pull.

Chan always liked giving, but he loved it when you used him like a little toy, tugging and moving him around until you couldn’t handle him anymore.

Some things never change.

You’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have to do this. That you could take him now, if he wanted to hurry and get to it, because you’re already feeling yourself flutter at the thought of having him buried inside you. But his lips part and you feel the tip of his tongue drag through your folds, separating them, exposing you; he collects your arousal and swallows it back, pressing his tongue into your hole, swirling it around your clit, sending sparks up and down your spine.

That ridiculous, stupid idea dies magnificently. You let Chan lose himself in you, and in equal parts, you lose yourself in him. In the cold bite of the ring decorating his middle finger as he trails them down your sensitive skin, in the way he grunts and moans and praises you between your legs. You selfish– and selfless–ly let him have his way, right up until you feel so tense you could snap.

Sure, you could let yourself come undone like this. Easily. In seconds, even, because he’s got you right there and you’re battling not to let it wash over you. But there’s something you need even more than the euphoria of your own release.

You scrunch your fist in his strands so hard that it forces him to pull away from you, gasping and cringing at the sting. At this, before he has the chance to ask what’s wrong, why you’ve stopped, if you’re okay, you press up onto one elbow, straps hanging off your shoulders, your own hair a mess. Somehow, Chan still looks up at you with glittering eyes, so shiny you can see their sweet, questioning gaze even in the dark.

“Need you, now,” you tell him, your chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. He wipes over his lips on the back of his hand and nods, pulling himself up onto his knees. You let go of him and tug your dress up over your head while he fiddles with the buckle on his belt.

“Flip over,” he says huskily, tugging it free just as quickly as he did with his tie, and when it thunks to the floor, you hear him start to move his pants down his legs too.

You do as he says, turning onto your front, bracing yourself on your knees with your hands clasped together beneath your head. Your back arches naturally for him, pressing your hips higher into the air; his breath catches at the sight of you, your perfect ass, your dribbling pussy.

It’s his favourite view. Always has been. Shit, nothing since the last time he was with you has ever come close.

“Deep breath for me,” he says, so soft in comparison to the way his fingers on one hand grasp at your hip and you feel the blunt edges of his nails digging into your skin. You inhale through your mouth, loud enough for him to hear. “That’s it. My good girl.”

He’s so fucking hard when he finally drags his tip through your folds, so heavy and thick when he pushes inside you inch by inch. The stretch is more intense than you remember, and despite slowly letting the breath you sucked in leave your lungs, you feel all of your muscles go tense. Your eyes squeeze shut. Your torso goes tight. You know your cunt hugs him because of how he lets go of his length and lays his hand flat in the middle of your back, dragging his thumb back and forth, trying to soothe you through it.

“Easy,” he says to you, slowing but not stopping until he’s buried all the way inside you. He’s so deep, you swear he nudges something he shouldn’t. So far inside you that you don’t know what to do with yourself. “Relax, baby. I’ve got you.”

It’s a little difficult when you feel more full now than you ever have, but slowly, you manage to loosen up and it’s only when you give a small nod of your head and an 'mhm' that he starts to rock his hips back and forth. Shallow, to start with, but with the angle he slides into you at, he might as well be going full depth, full force, full speed with how feverish this already is. You bunch the comforter in your fist, letting those familiar sensations of being fucked by Chan take over, letting the discomfort subside until it's replaced only by pleasure.

By which point, he's stopped treating you like a fragile doll, and has started to handle you like the person he wishes he never lost.

Those dancer hips haven't gone to waste, you realise, as he snaps them fluidly into you, the harsh slap of skin-on-skin punctuating every single sound that escapes you both. Sometimes, he pulls you back, spearing you wholly on his length, letting you do some of the work and control the pace. Sometimes, he holds you completely still so that he can have it all.

At all times, you feel yourself losing your mind piece by piece. Though you've tried to be with other people since that horrendous breakup, it's never managed to stick, and you find yourself thinking that maybe in a way, you were waiting for him. Hoping that one day, he'd waltz his way back into your life and sweep you off your feet and make sure you never forgot just how well he can give it to you. Praying that the universe was going to give you another chance.

One of his hands slips around your waist, now, and you feel him come down lower, pressing his chest against your back. His thrusts stop being so long and instead, he settles for harsh, deep ruts. His fingers find and start strumming over your clit, and you can feel yourself start to break apart with gasps and choked moans and whines of his name.

You're done for, and he knows it, but he still teases you as he kisses up your spine.

"Wanna feel you come, pretty girl," he says. His fingers move so easily that it takes everything you have not to collapse beneath him. “Missed feeling this pretty pussy around me. Wasn’t the same watching you play with it on the phone.”

You hide your face in the comforter and gasp, that beautiful heat starting to rise up inside you again. “Fuck, Chan—”

“That’s it,” he guides you, grunting with every little spasm of your walls. “Missed you so much.”

“I missed— missed—” you try to say, but he finds just the right pattern to make you squeak and you tug harder at the sheets. “Oh my God—”

Your universe explodes as he hits just the right spot inside you and you feel your peak slam through you, hips jerking back to meet his until there’s no room for any air to pass between your bodies. Chan stills, letting you ride yourself through it, easing up a little with the pressure of his fingers but still keeping them moving to milk every ounce of pleasure that he can from you.

With your thighs still shaking, you buckle downwards and he slips out of you unintentionally as you fight to catch your breath. You’re still seeing spots, still trying to put your thoughts in the right order, but when he smooths his hands over your ass and down the backs of your thighs, still up on his knees behind you, you slowly start to come back to Earth.

You slowly move round to lie on your back so you can look up at him, his still hard, now soaked cock sitting heavily against his thigh. He settles his hands on your knees, and you lean over to the side to pass your finger over one of the light switches. The one behind the headboard flickers to life and illuminates him: a sheen of sweat makes his broad frame gleam, his rosy blush makes your chest stutter.

“I missed you too,” you say quietly, unsure now if he was just saying so in the heat of the moment or if it was the truth.

You never needed to worry, though. Not if the way he drops down onto one elbow and kisses your newly regained breath straight back out of your lungs, cupping your cheek with his other hand is anything to go by.

“You meant it, then? You really want me?” He asks, pulling away only to drag his thumb over the corner of your mouth. You nod, turning your head a little and pursing your lips forward, pressing a kiss to his skin.

“I never stopped,” you tell him.

Little celebratory fireworks start to dance in his pretty eyes.

“Yeah?” He breathes, rolling onto his back and pulling you on top of him. “Good. Neither did I.”

thank u so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! as always, likes, reblogs, comments & feedback are so so appreciated.<3 thank u so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! as always, likes, reblogs, comments & feedback are so so appreciated.<3

#lee chan smut #dino smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #kpop smut #dino x you #dino x reader #dino imagines #j writes.#mw500party!#*

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dancermk · 10 months

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I’m a little disappointed to see so much discourse, fandom competitiveness, and plain arguing going around at the moment in regards to queer film/TV. People complaining about too much sex, not enough sex, too cheesy, made for the hets, too happy, too sad, too realistic, too unrealistic, and a million other petty issues. I, for one, am a queer person in my 50s and I grew up with practically zero representation! Yes, we want to continue onwards and upwards with quality and varied shows BUT let’s be HAPPY we now have representation! Like, actual shows where the central characters are queer, not just a side character who gets f*cking murdered! There is room for all different types of representation - so enjoy the types you like, and let others enjoy what they like.

And on a side note: progress is progress and film/tv is a business that has to turn a profit! If some queer content is made to appeal to the straight community, and will also act as a means of reducing homophobia and increasing understanding, then that’s a good thing. That means in the future more and more content will include queer stories and representation. If only 10% (ish) of the population is the maximum target audience then shows won’t keep getting made!

There is a huge backlash all over the world right now - a “push back” by conservatives and religious groups that want to wind back the clock, and specifically the last decade of advances.

So stick together queers and LGBTQIA+ allies.

I’m super happy knowing I don’t have to wait years between content anymore. And I’ve loved all different types of shows over the last 5 years, for lots of different reasons!

Interview with the Vampire - is giving me the toxic, passionate gothic love affair I’ve always wanted. And addressing interracial relationships.

Heartstopper - is filling me up with pure joy and hopefulness for the future.

Shameless - gave me Ian and Mickey - unique, anti stereotypical gays with a tragic yet ultimately beautiful love story spanning 11 years

Lone Star 911 - is giving me TK and Carlos whose sexuality barely factors into the storyline! Yay!

Looking - gave me an authentic queer experience and an intoxicating love triangle.

Red, white and Royal Blue - gave me a sweet, cute romcom that allowed reality to be sidelined. Fun escapism!

Young Royals - had me captivated by first love and intense angst.

Fire Island - an underrated romcom that made me laugh so hard I cried.

Sex education - shoved the realities of sex in our faces and provided me with laughter and drama and a range of queer identities.

Gentlemen Jack -gave me historical lesbians with spectacular wit, and feminine power.

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg- because there’s SO SO SO many more shows I could mention! Don’t at me because I didn’t mention YOUR favourite. This is my point! There is SO much great content it would take all day for me to include everything. This is just a sample - and that’s f*cking brilliant!!

So maybe we could all start posting/tweeting etc about what WE DO LIKE / LOVE / MAKES US FEEL LOVED AND SEEN and put down the device if we’ve got nothing nice to say.

Sending everyone a love filled week! 💜

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thegirlwhowrites642 · 2 months

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Could you recommend us some of your favorite hinny fics? Love your work btw!

Thank you <3

I would tell you to look at my bookmarks on Ao3 but I'll give you some highlights (I'll keep wips out of this because I never know how to feel about recommending unfinished work):

Gone was any trace of you -- I'm pretty sure I've read this something like a billion times, I can quote it word by word

Come stay for the summer -- this is always such a light fun work to re-read, I'm a big fan of muggle hinny, I really have a soft spot for it

Altered -- the obsession I have for this one-shot, this to me is hinny in its purest form

A Weasley reunion -- some hardcore pining from Harry, and fake dating, what do you want more from life?

Time -- Harry realising he wants children, with Ginny. The specific way in which the realisation is written is something I adore

Summer rain -- this is great, what else there is to say really, it's just great

Sacred new beginnings -- I love how this somehow manages to be a retelling of sixth year despite being a muggle AU with young adults hinny

Orchards -- the author definitely has a higher opinion of the "golden trio" than I have but the way she writes dialogues between Harry and Ginny is perfect, she also does a thing I love which is to make Ginny actually funny. It's one of her main personality traits and yet it's forgotten so often, I think it happens due to some sort of unconscious bias about women not being funny (not native English speakers writers are forgiven though because being funny in a foreign language can be quite hard)

After the leaves have fallen -- this talks about what I call Harry and Ginny's never-ending argument and it's written so beautifully

Everything I am is yours -- I just noticed that on ao3 it's signed as the first chapter of two but it definitely can stand on its own and is a very well done muggle retelling of Harry and Ginny's story

take what I took and give it back to you -- a beautifully written soulmates marks au that doesn't really change Harry and Ginny's story but, as one of the comments says, seems to bring up an existing implied element of the canon one

Already here -- because Hannah's stories that I love the most (they are all great though) are wips, I'll put this one in the hopes that one day she'll decide to turn it into a multi-chapter story (@takearisk-ao3 think about it 👀)

The brilliant dance -- this is so fucking funny and entertaining while also being heartwarming. Fucked up but inevitable/obsessed with each other hinny spending their early 20s being a hot mess is my AU drug

Someone else's life -- finished reading this a few days ago, a very well developed brilliant idea

[I already know the second I post this I'll realise I've forgotten some brilliant work]

#hinny #harry potter #ginny weasley #harry x ginny

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kismets-barista · 5 months

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Hold onto your Stetson, @ohposhers; have I got some personal HickDory lore for you 😎💜🌟🫧

Excuse the insanity for those who don't feel compelled towards these two

SO!

Hickory and JD met a few good years before the events of the World Tour when Dory was traveling to find Lonesome Flats, got heatstroke and passed out in the desert. Wakes up to Hickory shadowed in the flickering light of a campfire beneath a canopy of the brightest stars he'd seen since the Neverglades, but it wouldn't be until QUITE a few months later until they really started developing crushes against each other. (Cowboy under the stars, you'd think he'd fall right then and there, right? 🌟)

Why was Hickory already in Lonesome Flats, you might ask? Where was Dickory?

In a glue trap, I say in response. Hickory came from Yodelsberg (is there a canonical name for this?) for international study and to learn about new music. He fell in love with country because yodeling and country music are actually quite gorgeous together. She Taught Me to Yodel, anyone?

Delta Dawn obviously didn't take to Dory showing up and around the town, but after some convincing by Hickory and lots of proving himself (plus a vulture attack that resulted in John Dory saving the very young niece of Delta Dawn- Clampers-) he 'earned' a place there and began to work around town.

It was weird for him.

He'd never quite settled down, until then.

(Now, the specific timeline, yearly I mean is a little muddled because I'm still crafting this, but I'll put them out about three years, now.)

John Dory was still living in Lonesome Flats, and he'd started a relationship with Hickory. They loved each other, as my cohort in crime @protagonist-art (CHECK OUT THEIR ART I LOVE THEM SM MUAH) has Hickory tell John when we get write them, "More than the moon loves the ocean." As surely as the tide pulls in and out, so the lovers return to each other.

So Via, what does Hickory think about BroZone?

Oh, my sweet star.

He doesn't know.

After returning to the devastated Troll Tree, John Dory lost a piece of his heart in the damaged pod they used to live in. It was the first time he went grey, and the memories of his brothers started shifting from what was, to what would never be again. He couldn't find it within himself to talk about them, and has his secrets.

But so does Hickory.

Girl wdym stop being so mysterious.

Heh. I know. It's just a glimpse into my dark mind /ref. Anyways, Hickory never told John Dory he was a Yodeler troll. (Another piece of lore that Quizzy and I worked on together and I think it's brilliant.)

Huh? Aren't they in a long-term relationship? Won't this cause issues later on if they don't share these things with each other?

Oh, they love every aspect of each other too much for their bond to truly be broken.

And yet.

One morning, years after just living and loving, John Dory wakes up with a massive headache and nausea.

"Maybe it's that horse that kicked me yesterday, could've gotten me harder than we both thought."

"Lemme check for a knot, Darlin'."

No knots, but there was an egg.

🌟 (Here I'll say that I'm massively in love with the headcanon that trolls conceive through true love- it isn't quite necessary for them to physically do anything unless they want to. Just them, wholeheartedly trusting and putting everything into their relationship and pouring their heart out to their partner.)

They were absolutely ECSTATIC, and rightfully terrified in their own ways. Neither of them were looking for children but not against it, and after resting for a few days they began to plan. A nursery in the house, baby books with millions of names scattered on the coffee table, toys and cute little baby clothes for when the little one hatched.

Wanna know two of the names John Dory had in mind? Rhonda and Dolly.

They were ecstatic until the night John Dory woke up absolutely ill and with a pit in his stomach.

They lost the egg, and it was the second time John Dory went grey in his life.

A week after this had happened, John Dory left a bundled lock of his hair at Hickory's nightstand and did what he knows how to do all too well. He ran.

Hickory never went too far out of Lonesome Flats in the hopes that John Dory would come back. He couldn't imagine what would happen if his love came back and didn't find him there.

The events of World Tour come about, Hickory meets Branch, and travels for the first time since John Dory left.

John Dory continued to travel, until the events of Band Together.

But don't worry, dear readers, for as surely as the tides come in, so will the lovers meet again. 🌟

Aaaand BOOM! That's it! 💜 I've got lore behind the names Rhonda and Dolly as well, and am SO down to answer any questions about them that anyone has. For you, Posh, thank you for asking and helping me to share a story I've been working on, and for everyone else that read this, thank you kindly! I hope that everyone who made it this far has quite a lovely day, or if you didn't, have a lovely day anyways!

Remember to take your meds, drink water, eat something, and stretch!

💜🌟🫧

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thepathwechooseif · 5 months

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DEMO TBA

In the English countryside in 1914, you live with your two children on your late husband’s grand estate. Two years have passed since the tragic sinking of the Titanic, from which you became a single parent.

Though surrounded by wealth and community, you remain lost in a fog of grief. But with the arrival of summer, the neighbouring family prepares to host their annual month-long house party. Your curious children persuade you to attend, hoping the festivities will lift your sorrow.

Lucas/Lucia Bertham, the family's charming heir, bonds with your children and seems to understand you in a way others cannot. But will secrets regarding their family's future prevent love?

Azra Hays arrives, a traveling storyteller with a gift for magic in their words that soothes your soul. Gardner Isaac Hill has loved you in silence, finding joy through your children's smiles.

More suitors await too - brilliant sculptor Zephyr Langston, whose art mirrors your heart, and Doctor Henry Bellman, who ministers to the people with patience and good humor.

As festivities crescendo with masques, fireworks and more, you start to believe in love and laughter again. But which person holds your whole heart? And will dark forces from the past destroy this new paradise you’ve begun to build?

The summer promises intrigue, blessings, and maybe a sweet romance if you can let go of history and embrace the gifts of tomorrow.

Customise your character as well as your children’s

Choose where you live and how you dress

Your choices have an impact on how society reacts to you!

Uncover secrets from your past!

Pursuing different ROs with varying levels of affection leads to unique story endings that resolve the mystery

Lucas/Lucia Bertham (m/f/nb)

The Heir, 26, Lucas/Lucia Bertham is the only child and heir to the prestigious title and lands of Bertham. They are a successful businessperson, but relish returning to their ancestral home each summer. While other young people prefer to travel abroad, they prefer the simple pleasures of country life. They take their duty as head of the manor seriously, helping tenants with an approachable demeanor. Though destined to marry well for station one day, they remain single and enjoy lively flirtations. While others dance at balls, they are the happiest hosting gatherings under the stars or riding alongside farm laborers by day. Lucas/Lucia lights up any room with their charm, wit and easy smiles. But is there a lonely heart searching for more beneath this carefree facade? As always, only time will tell what develops between Lucas/Lucia and you over the magical summer months at Bertham.

Isaac Hill(m)

The Gardner, 35, Isaac Hill has lived and worked on your estate for years. His strong, weather-worn hands coax beauty from the soil. Gardenings comes naturally to gentle-souled Isaac, as does his way with any creature in need of care. The expansive gardens are his pride and joy, a wonderland open for all to enjoy. Despite his huge build, muscular arms and calloused palms, his demeanor remains soft-spoken yet self-assured. While most village maidens sigh for officers or heirs, Isaac's gentle soul and way with children has turned many a head. But he remains devoted to coaxing new life from the earth, finding solace in small things. Perhaps amid the Bertham's blossoms, Isaac's own heart may bud anew this summer as well.

Zephyr Langston(m/f/nb)

The Sculptor, 27, Zephyr Langston hails from one of London's most prestigious arts families. Though young, their sculptures have already gained fame across England. While many London soirees vie for their presence, Zephyr relishes escaping to the countryside each summer. Using moody landscapes as inspiration, they work tirelessly to capture fleeting emotions in stone. Some say their sculptures are too sensually lifelike, but the Berthams proudly collect their edgy works. Zephyr charms salon attendees but remains unmarried, focused solely on their "passionate mistress," their art. Though prone to brooding moody spells while working, they come alive at parties with a playful wit. Could this summer be when they find inspiration of the heart as well as hands among the Bertham estate's rolling hills?

Henry Bellman(m)

The Doctor, 29, though young, he runs the village medical practice with a maturity beyond his years. What he lacks in words, Henry more than makes up for with his compassionate bedside manner. He listens with steady brown eyes that seem to see into patients' very souls. While others chat idly, Henry prefers observing life unfold with subtle calm. An avid reader, he's as learned as any university man but without pretense. More than one farmer's daughter has blushed starry-eyed receiving his attentions, yet he remains a bachelor focused solely on his work. The Berthams value Lucas greatly for his discretion and healing touch. But does his solemn façade hide deeper passions waiting to emerge? As always, only time will tell what mysteries lie beneath the calm exterior of Doctor Henry Bellman, and what intrigues he may stir in your heart this season.

Azra Hays(m/f/nb)

The Storyteller, 27, Azra Hays is a free spirit , with mischievous eyes like the summer sky. While others settle, Azra is happiest wandering the countryside in their worn boots, flute in hand.They’re a jack of all trades but lives for their art - spinning spellbinding tales that transport listeners far from their daily toils. With their easy smile and flirty manner, Azra charms all they meet. Yet beneath this bohemian exterior beats a kind and generous heart, always helping travelers in need. An orphan from youth, they never take their freedom or talents for granted. Azra makes their coin sharing folklore, gossip and bawdy jokes in villages along their route. But they save their most magical stories for moonlit campfires, weaving magic that leaves audiences in awe. Some say their nose for intrigue could even rival the Sherlock Holmes tales. Will Azra linger longer this year among Bertham's gardens and party revelries? Is there feeling breeding beyond friendship beneath Azra's roguish charm? As always, only time will tell the true depth of bonds woven beneath the summer stars.

#interactive fiction #no demo #twine game #twine wip #twine interactive fiction #twine story #twine if #wip #status: wip

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vasilissadragomir · 6 months

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my tigris theory is that snow developed the stylist position with her in mind. he tells her it’s a thank you for all she did for him growing up, but they both know how she feels about the games. they both understand it’s not a reward, and it’s certainly not the honor he presents it as, but rather a means of exerting control. it’s a warning to her that there are lines he won’t even allow her to cross. out of family loyalty, he won’t kill her just yet, but he will keep her in line.

snow pretends to level with her, and tells tigris it’s a chance to help the tributes before they reach the arena. make them fashionable, desirable, and they can win sponsorships that can save their lives. but really, he’s forcing the same punishment on her that he does the former victor mentors—make them get to to know these terrified, oppressed children year after year, be their only hope, and watch them die a brutal death. that’s why the stylist is the last person to see the tribute before the games.

tigris turns out to be every bit as successful as snow promised her she’d be. her style is emulated by every capitol citizen, and her tribute, game after game, is always the envy of every other district’s tributes. each year, though, she is increasingly horrified by the barbarity of the games and, more importantly, of her cousin.

the straw that breaks the camel’s back is when tigris finds out that snow is selling tributes. everyone knows, of course, that they’re related, but the connection between them now sickens her more than it ever has. but as a brilliant mind in capitol fashion, if there’s one thing she knows how to do is to remake someone. she’s thus far been known as “tigris snow,” and decides to start surgical alterations to distinguish herself as simply “tigris.” the farther she can get from the snow name, from the shameful man that grew from the coriolanus she raised, the better. no one understands the desire to distance themselves from their family, to make a different mark on their legacy, better than fulvia cardew and plutarch heavensbee, and they become fast allies, if not friends.

and many years later, as tigris ages and her time in the spotlight comes to its natural end, she takes on an apprentice, a promising young stylist who has misgivings about having such a role in the games. she grows to trust this man who demonstrates such subtlety and courage in his work, believing wholeheartedly that his intention is to help the tributes maintain a sense of dignity before their almost inevitable death.

when the time comes for him to enter the stylist pool for the games, his talent could afford him a chance to work with just about any district he wanted. and yet, cinna remembers what tigris once told him about a young girl from district 12, and how she not only beguiled the whole country, but president snow himself. a spark of passion that grew into an insurmountable flame…

#thg #the hunger games #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #coriolanus #tigris snow #tigris #cinna

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katbakubae · 1 year

Text

Unknowingly Accepted

Merman!Bakugo x F!Reader

NSFW

CW: (eventual smut), language, misunderstood mating rituals, possessiveness, jealousy, (mild) stalking.

No beta, we die like Endeavor's career.

Words: 4k

+PART ONE+ (1/?)

To say you almost had a heart attack was an understatement.

You had been sitting on the dock at your stepfather's beachfront house, your legs dangling over the side and kicking at the water with your feet. What you hadn’t expected was the blonde hair that broke the surface, making you shriek in alarm before your heart calmed slightly...momentarily. At first, you’d wondered what the hell a...handsome young man was doing in the water near your stepfather's house. It was pretty secluded. To your knowledge, there wasn’t another home for a few miles. Did he swim from a nearby home? These questions initially entered your mind as his crimson eyes stared quietly into yours, your mind not processing how strange this was...at first.

Your lips parted to speak, his crimson eyes flashing in interest as his muscular shoulders broke the water the same time his...tail did. All the words died in your throat as you stared in disbelief, blinking rapidly as the brilliant orange and black tail lightly splashed out of the water behind him. It was gorgeous, iridescent and massive.

You couldn’t move – you were in too much shock at what the fuck you were looking at. His handsome head tilted down slightly, his crimson eyes bright and questioning. His sharp, yet handsome face looking just as intrigued by you as you were him – though, he admittedly didn’t look frightened of you. You weren’t sure what expression was on your face, but you highly doubted it looked much different than a deer caught in headlights. His crimson eyes moved down your body, his gaze lingering on your bare legs and feet that were under the water. He was a few feet from you, and when he slowly moved forward, the humongous black and orange tail moving behind him...you regained control of your body.

He was so big. He could pull you under, he could – you gasped and scrambled backwards out of the water, your eyes huge as he paused in his approach. His brows furrowed slightly, as though your behavior perplexed him. He was looking at you as though he’d never seen a person before...but there was zero fear. Then again, why would he be afraid of you? You weren’t exactly threatening.

You’d heard tales of mermen...they were beautiful and deadly. But that’s all it was, wasn’t it? Tales? They couldn’t possibly be true.

You sharply stood, eyes on him as he moved a little taller out of the water in response, revealing a muscular chest. Your breathing was labored as you began backing up, swallowing thickly. He tilted his head a little more, his ash blonde hair cutting across his intense, ruby eyes that never left you.

No words were exchanged as you turned, grabbing the end of your dress and fleeing towards your stepfathers home. When you reached the porch, you paused, gripping the banister and breathing heavily. Part of you wondered if you had hallucinated as you turned, looking in the distance at the dock, only to see the gentle blue waves...no sight of a handsome, blonde man.

((O))

A few days had passed, and you couldn’t get the encounter out of your head. You told no one; you didn’t want them to think you were crazy.

Hell, if you thought too much about it, you thought you were crazy, too.

You had avoided going near the water again by yourself, your eyes constantly searching the water when you were near it. You didn’t see anything again, but in your paranoia...you felt like you were being watched – always. The second you stepped foot outside, that itching feeling of someone’s stare was all over you, making you uncomfortable.

You were warily looking over the water and walking on the dock with your stepfather when you felt a disgusting squish underneath your bare foot. You jumped back, shrieking when you saw a huge, dead fish on the dock. You covered your mouth with a gasp when you saw massive claw marks across its blue scales, obviously killing it.

“Shit, how did that get up on the dock – what the hell killed it?” you stepfather said after running up to you when you shrieked. You covered your cheeks, your stomach rolling in disgust when your stepfather leaned down to pick it up, it’s guts falling on the wood before he tossed it in the water.

“It’s alright, something else will eat it,” your stepfather chuckled, patting you on the back.

You swallowed thickly, wrapping your arms around your torso as he began setting up his fishing pole.

“I…what do you think killed it?” You asked in a high pitched tone, seeing him shrug uninterestedly.

“Could be anything,” he commented, inspecting his line, “ocean is so big that anything could be out there.”

You nodded, looking out over the water with a wary look.

Over the next few weeks, it kept happening. You always seemed to be the one that found the ripped apart, dead fish near the water. Multiple ones kept turning up, and to your horror, they kept getting bigger. You never wanted to go outside again when a medium-sized shark had turned up in your path.

What was worse was that every time you showed your stepfather, he’d shrug it off as though this was normal. You weren’t a marine expert, but you were pretty sure this was weird. You hated it, but your mind kept trailing back to the…merman you thought you saw.

Was he doing this? If he was and he was trying to unnerve you, it was working.Was he trying to frighten you? Why else would he be leaving carcasses everywhere? Of course, you didn’t know it was him, but you began to strongly suspect it.

You were sitting on the sand, rolling a rock in your hand and looking out over the water once again as your stepfather waxed his boat nearby. You sighed at the feeling of being watched, pulling you knees up to your chest and resting your chin on your knee. The sun shined down on the water as you contemplated why you were always out here, looking over the water every time you stepfather came out. Did you want to see him again to prove to yourself it was real?

You sighed, your eyes catching something gleaming at the edge of the shoreline. You paused, lifting your chin from your knees as you slowly stood, walking to the waters edge and crouching down. Sure enough, there was glimmering lights just under the surface, making you hesitate before reaching in the water and grabbing the object. Your heart stuttered when you realized there was a string, and you pulled it from the sand.

Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets when your hand revealed a stunning necklace. It was held together by an intricately braided string, unlike you’d ever seen before. What stunned you was how it was made. There were sea shells and what appeared to be diamonds and serpentine woven throughout the braided chain. You weren’t sure, but they certainly looked like them and you knew both were found in the ocean. The diamonds were cloudy as they were raw, but so gorgeous that they took your breath away. They fit the white of the seashells, and the serpentine added a pop of color.

It was the most unique necklace you’d ever seen. There was a simple tie in the back as you hesitated, then placed it around your neck. You smiled as you fastened it, looking down and running your fingers over the small gems and shells. You heard a small splash and looked up sharply, gasping when you saw a familiar, blonde head near the dock, about twenty feet from you. You stood on the shore, his intense eyes trailing down to your neck, where the necklace rested against your collarbone. For the first time, his neutral expression faded, his smooth cheeks crinkling as he smirked in what appeared to be satisfaction. It made him look more handsome than anyone had a right to.

At that moment, you knew he’d made it and somehow, made it for you. Your fear lessened, but didn’t become totally absent. After all, he was still some kind of sea creature. You glanced over at your oblivious stepfather nearby, noticing his gaze followed yours. His gaze moved back to you when you looked back at him and he tilted his head down as if to say, ‘What are you going to do? Cry for help?’

It absurdly kept your mouth shut as your heart raced in your chest. The sounds of the water and the gulls may have drowned out your words that left your mouth without a thought.

“Thank you.”

To your surprise, you saw his head and shoulders raise in recognition, his massive tail lightly moving the water behind him. It had to be uncomfortable, you thought, to be in the shallow water with a tail like that. It’s clear he’d only came to see you, making your chest squeeze. Every part of you said he was a predator, and you should be wary and worried, but….was he just curious about people? Was the necklace an offering of peace or friendship?

“Honey, could you come help me with this?”

Your stepfathers voice caused you to jump and look over at him as he waved you over. You quickly looked back, frowning when you saw he was gone. Clearly, he didn’t want your stepfather to see him.

You sighed, lightly touching the necklace as you went to help your stepfather.

((O))

“You love swimming, come on!”

It was how you ended up on your stepfathers boat with your mother in the ocean. You supposed that now, you were wary of the water. Not really because of him, but at the same time, it was because of him. Surely, there were others like himself? Mermen?

You wondered what his name was. Did he even have a name? Surely, he did. He didn’t speak and maybe he couldn’t, but his gaze was as intelligent and it was intense. His face was fierce, but incredibly handsome in your opinion. His skin was perfect, and not to mention, his upper body was completely ripped.

Dear god, were you attracted to a fucking mute fish?

You needed to get out more.

You were wearing the necklace you suspected he made with your bikini. Absurdly, you told yourself if any other…fish-men saw it, they’d somehow know one of them made it and leave you alone. You hesitated at the side of the boat, looking around the rippling, blue water as though you were going to see a face. It had an eerily resemblance to being too afraid to look out the window at night because you were afraid of seeing a face.

No, you doubted he was here. He went close to the shore when he wanted to see you. You weren’t far out, as the cliffs were nearby. Closing your eyes, you jumped in the water, the coolness rushing over you as you broke the surface, rubbing your eyes and blinking as you watched you legs move, a tad paranoid something was going to touch them.

Your stepfather and mother were drunk, laughing loudly on the boat as they blared classic rock. You rolled your eyes, swimming a bit away from the boat to avoid them. Honestly, you weren’t even sure why they insisted you go. You felt like you were intruding on a date or something. You swam a little further away, sighing to yourself and trying to relax, letting the water lap over your shoulders.

Pain shot fiercely up your leg, making your eyes shoot open before you shrieked and went under the water. Your leg locked up, and it took you but a moment to realize you had a muscle cramp.

Your mind was frantic as you scrambled for the surface, your lungs burning as you prayed your drunk parents would notice. Your vision started blackening when you felt something warm and strong wrap around you and break the surface. You coughed horribly as you felt yourself moving through the water at a fast speed, unable to focus or get your bearings and you choked and gasped. It suddenly stopped and you felt yourself being laid on a hard surface. Your coughing quieted down as your watery eyes tried to focus, making you rub them and blink heavily.

Your spine went rigid when you met a familiar, crimson gaze that was much closer than ever before. His upper body was pulled from the water, his tail still submerged as he leaned on his hands, looking over your body as if to check that you were okay. Your gaze flicked around, realizing he’d taken you to the nearest surface, which was inside one of the caves. Your gaze moved back to him as your heart thundered in your chest. His arms were corded and strong, looking like they should be considered weapons. He had firm pecks and and abs, making your mouth go dry when you saw the black and orange scales begin at his tapered waist, below his belly button. His hands were plastered on the surface next to you, your heart jolting when you saw deadly looking claws. Claws that likely made those fatal gashes in the sea animals left around your stepfathers property…

Your gaze moved up to his face once more, startling you when you saw he was already watching you look him over. It was completely against your will when you felt your face redden, taking notice of his eyes flashing as he clearly saw the change in your skin tone.

He tilted his head, his eyes roving down your body making you blush even more furiously, wrapping your arms around your stomach in embarrassment. Your bikini wasn’t really skimpy, but it still wasn’t a lot of fabric. He suddenly pointed a large, clawed hand at your calf, which was still twitching from the spasm.

“Pain?“

A jolt of surprised went through you as your mouth parted in shock at his deep, gravely voice. He could speak? It was clear that the word was somewhat unsure, and that your language wasn’t his own. But…how did he know? You’d had the feeling he’d understood your thanks, but now, it really seemed as though he had.

“…”

His brows furrowed at your response, or lack of response. His soft-looking lips pressed into a hard line, reaching forward and grabbing your calf, causing you to yelp in alarm. Fear traveled up your spine as you squealed and began to struggle, trying to pull away from his iron grip. He wasn’t hurting you, but the strength you felt in that grip scared you. His claws squeezing into the flesh of your calf.

“No…hurt,” he said in a deep voice, making you go still as you stared at him with wide eyes. His crimson eyes moved back down to your calf, a shiver running across your skin as his cool hands squeezed your muscle, moving up and down your calf with furrowed brows. You couldn’t move, but you felt like he was checking to see if you were injured…what you didn’t expect was the warm tingle that traveled up your leg from his touch, settling in your stomach. You bit your lip, feeling a tad disturbed at your body’s reaction. He was so handsome and strong looking, though.

Jesus, you were trying to justify being a little turned on my a fish?

“Hurt,” he said again, releasing your calf and shaking his blonde head. Clearly, he had deemed you healthy. Part of you wondered if he had just started learning you language a few weeks ago. If so, his understanding was amazing. Just from his gaze alone, you could tell he was very intelligent. However, if he managed to understand and even speak a little bit of your language in that short amount of time…that showed such a high intellect that you couldn’t help but to be impressed. Perhaps mer people were more advanced than humans?

“It was…a muscle cramp,” you said in a low, strained voice, his head tilting and his eyes lighting up at the sound of your voice – as though it made him happy. His face didn’t change, but his ruby eyes were very expressive.

He nodded as though he understood, his eyes moving back down to your legs and cocking his head, looking at your feet curiously. You didn’t move as his hand reached out again, slowly, as though not to alarm you. He ran a clawed finger across your toes, pulling back slightly in alarm when you wiggled your toes in reaction. It was clear that he’d never seen a human this close up before and had clearly never touched one.

Your fear lessened to almost nothing. He was frightening in many ways, but he was also…

Ethereal and beautiful. He had saved you and checked to see if you were injured. If he wanted to harm you, surely, he would have by now? Though he seemed intense and a powerful force to be reckoned with…he didn’t seem like he meant you any harm. Perhaps you were naive for it, but you felt yourself relax.

He was watching you intently again, the only sound in the dark cavern was the trickling of water and your slightly labored breathing.

“What’s your name?” you whispered, watching his eyes go down to the necklace around your throat. His ruby eyes flashing in satisfaction as he looked back up at your eyes. “Do you understand me?” you asked, shifting against the hard rock of the cave and pulling your legs underneath you.

He tilted his head, his eyes searching as he put a clawed hand to his strong chest. “Katsuki,” he said clearly, making your brows raise in surprise that he understood you.

“Katsuki...” you trailed off, jumping slightly when his eyes immediately darkened, a small growl rumbling in his chest and alarming you. You flinched back, causing him to immediately stop and lean a little closer to you.

You looked at him a bit wearily for moments as he waited for you to speak.

You swallowed, putting your hand to your chest. “Y/N,” you said in a soft tone, his upper body angling towards you a little more, his tail making a small wave behind him....as though you telling him your name really pleased him.

He paused, his eyes searching your face before turning and diving into the water quickly. You yelped in alarm, scrambling to the edge to look down into the dark water a bit frantically. Why did he just leave?

You looked around the cave, your shoulders hunching as you became aware of how dark and...creepy it was in here. You could swim back to the boat – did they seriously not notice you were gone?

My god. What if your leg cramped up again? Great, now you were traumatized.

Right as you really started to panic, he broke the surface of the water, shaking his hair out. To your amusement, it went right back to his spiky look as though it wasn’t just soaked. You couldn’t help it when a giggle left your lips, his crimson eyes snapping to you, his nostrils flaring slightly as he pulled his hand from the water, flinging a large, green fish on the rock in front of you. You jumped, gasping as you saw the familiar claw marks on the side of the dead fish, your eyes going wide.

“It was you!” You gasped as his brows raised for a moment, a smile curling his lips. Your heart jumped when you noticed his perfect teeth also had fangs – two sharp canines. “Why did you leave me dead fish?” You asked, tilting your head.

His eyes squinted for a moment, as though he was trying to process how to answer your question. “Hmm…showing interest,” he answered, his eyes gleaming as your face reddened.

Surely, he didn’t mean…

“What do you mean?” You squeaked, staring at him in disbelief as his lips curled in what appeared to be frustration, huffing through his nose.

“Interest…in mating,” he emphasized, your jaw going slack in shock as his eyes moved down to the necklace. “Accepted.” He added, nodding towards the necklace that adorned your throat.

You were reeling in shock. You’d accepted his advances by wearing the necklace he’d made? How was that fair? Surely, he knew that you didn’t know what it would mean.

He huffed, picking up the fish and holding it out to you. You recoiled, your stomach turning at the bleeding body. “Eat. Hungry,” he said, looking determined to make you eat this raw fish. You shook your head imploringly, covering your mouth and attempting to wave it away.

“Y/N!”

You jumped at the sound of your stepfathers voice. Katsuki snarled loudly at the sudden noise, turning around sharply and blocking your view with his large body protectively at the perceived threat to you.

“It’s okay!” You exclaimed, “It's my stepfather.”

His strong shoulders relaxed slightly as he turned to look towards you again. It must be your imagination, but you could have swore a sad look crossed his intense face for a moment. It was almost as if he was sad your time together was over.

“I have to…” you trailed off, sliding your legs in the water next to him as he nodded in understanding. You tensed up when he immediately moved in front of you, his large, strong hands wrapping around your waist. Your breath left you in a rush when he strongly lifted you off the rock, slowly lowering you in the water and supporting all your weight.

“Oh…” you breathed as he towered over you, coming much closer. He was huge as you stared up at him with wide eyes. “I-I…” words failed you as his hands tightened on your waist, his gaze becoming hooded. Your breath was shallow as a soft scent entered your nose. It smelt like the ocean, but it was almost sweet, like caramel. It was crippling, and you found yourself unable to move or even think as his eyes fluttered closed, tilting his head down. You didn’t even think of stopping him as your own eyes fluttered shut.

The feel of soft press of his lips was unexpected, as was the feel of adrenaline that suddenly started pumping through your veins. Excitement rushed through you as you curled a hand in his damp, blonde hair that was surprisingly soft. He growled in your mouth, and you felt a hand on your waist curl to your lower back, pulling you flush against his hard body.

You weren’t doing this. You weren’t letting a merman kiss you in a creepy ass cave.

His body felt slightly cooler than your overheated one, his tongue sliding smoothly across your lip as though he knew you, as though he knew exactly how to kiss you. Every stroke of his lips and tongue was perfection, making you tremble against his strong body and try to grapple with your sanity as you tugged his hair, trying to somehow pull him closer.

Like him, his kiss was intense and all consuming – as though he was making damn sure you didn’t go home and forget him. It was almost like he was claiming you and reminding you that you belonged to him.

You weren’t sure what was happening, but you continued moving your lips against his, gasping in his mouth and pressing against his hard chest. You breathed heavily when he broke from your swollen lips, moving his hungrily down your neck. Your breath caught as he nudged the necklace with his nose, a low growl sounding in his chest. He nipped your neck with his teeth, a deep, husky word leaving his lips.

“Mine.”

You swore you felt some kind of bulge against your abdomen, confusing you for moments under all your lust as you gripped his hair. He ran his tongue up your neck, tasting your skin possessively.

“Y/N!”

Your stepfathers voice sounded closer now as you looked towards the entrance of the cave, seeing shadows.

Katsuki pulled away from your neck, and you took notice that his breathing seemed a little strained, and his jaw was tight.

It was clear that he didn’t want to let you go.

His nostrils flared with a huff, his bright, red eyes staring into yours.

“Soon,” he whispered in a low voice, his hand running up your bare back, his fingers toying with the strap of your bikini top as his expression turned serious. “I will watch – keep you safe,” he said slowly, making your heart punch your rib cage. His fingers came up to your collarbone, running them across the necklace with a satisfied look on his face. Your breathing was shallow as he lightly ran them down to your cleavage, a shiver running down your spine when he traced his fingers across the tops of your breasts. He looked hungry, like you were a present he couldn’t wait to unwrap.

A devious smile curled his lips, his fangs gleaming as he looked rather pleased with himself at your flustered appearance. He glanced back towards the entrance, seeing flashlights as he looked back at you once more, his eyes lingering on your face before he dove into the water. You barely saw the end of his tail, the orange and black a mere flash since he was so quick.

“Y/N!” Your stepfathers voice called again.

You sighed, trying to catch your breath. “I’M HERE!” You forced yourself to call out, your mind spinning and unable to process the fact that maybe, just maybe…you’d unwittingly bound yourself to an intense, admittedly handsome…merman.

#bnha #boku no hero acedamia #mha #bakugo #bnha bakugou #bakugou #bakugo katuski x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #mha bakugou #merman!bakugo

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aspoonofsugar · 4 months

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Have yo read Captive Prince? What do you think of Laurent's character? Does he foil any other characters (besides being mind to Damen's heart)?

Hi!

Yes, I have and I love Laurent <3 He has the most complex arc and is at the centre of the major conflict, so he foils several characters, who are used to explore his personality and to progress his arc.

In general, I would say three major jungian archetypes are used in Laurent's story:

Inner Child = the childish and most vulnerable part of a person, which is influenced by one's younger years. Laurent's inner child is embodied primarily by Nicaise, but also by every boy abused and raped by the Regent.

Shadow = the repressed part, which the person doesn't want to aknowledge. Laurent has severals: the Regent himself, Aimeric and Jokaste. They all embody Laurent's most negative side.

Anima/Animus = the anima is the female side of a man and the animus is the male side of a woman. It is usually used in romantic subplots to show two characters growing closer. Here, it is embodied by the bond between Laurent and Damen.

Laurent's arc is one where he integrates with Damen, but to succeed he also needs to save his inner child and to face his shadow. Or to fail and try again.

BROTHERS AND LOVERS

Laurent and Damen foil each others' brothers:

Laurent foils Kastor: both are the unfavourite child, but Laurent adores Auguste, while Kastor resents Damen. At the same time, Damen perceives them in opposite ways. Damen initially doesn't aknowledge the good in Laurent, while he doesn't see the evil in Kastor. It is as Nikandros says. At the beginning of the story, Damen sees things in black and white. By getting to know Laurent he learns complexity and that the world is in shades of grey. He integrates his own heart with Laurent's mind. His own idealism with Laurent's wisdom.

Damen foils Auguste: both are strong fighters and beloved leaders, able to inspire others. The moment Auguste dies, Laurent loses his heart and it is only with Damen that he learns to trust and to open up again. It is also through Damen that he overcomes Auguste's death and his sense of inferiority, which is carefully nurtured by the Regent. Laurent is brilliant, but his arc is about showing vulnerability and find new faith in others. He integrates his mind with Damen's heart. His wisdom with Damen's idealism.

So, as you said, Laurent is the mind to Damen's heart and has to rediscover his own interiority. He needs to love himself again. Only by doing so he can truly escape the Regent and grow up. This process of growth is the main focus of the trilogy and it happens twice:

Laurent fails to grow in the second book

Laurent succeeds and completes his growth in the third book

Let's see how.

NICAISE AND AIMERIC = LAURENT'S DARKEST HOUR

Laurent's darkest hour happens at the end of the second book. This is common for a trilogy. It is not rare for the second installement to end in a negative way. Now, The Prince's Gambit doesn't end badly. Laurent and Damen win and grow closer. Laurent even frees Damen and they have sex for the first time. Still, psychologically, Laurent risks a huge brakdown because of Nicaise and Aimeric's deaths.

Nicaise and Aimeric are two parts of Laurent:

-Nicaise is Laurent's child-self. He is petty and capricious, but he cares deeply. And yet, he can't show any vulnerability. The moment he does, he is killed. Moreover, Nicaise plaids for Laurent because he deep down thinks the Regent won't kill him. This is true for Laurent, as well:

"I didn't think he's really try to kill me" Laurent said "After everything... even after everything".

-Aimeric is Laurent's shadow. He is a young man, whose life is defined by the Regent's sexual abuse. Aimeric confuses the Regent's imitation of love with true care and fights to get it back, even if it means hurting people, who truly love him. Unconsciously, this is true for Laurent too:

"You play his games like you want to show him you can. Like you're trying to impress him. Is that it? You need to beat him at his own game? You want him to see you do it? At the expense of your positions and the lives of your men? Are you that desperate for his attention? Well, you have it. Congratulations. You must have loved it that he was obsessed enough with you that he killed his own boy to get at you. You win."

Damen's speech to Laurent is basically the same one Laurent gives Aimeric. Aimeric shines light on this specific aspect of Laurent. Laurent too still loves his uncle. He too wants his attention and on some level thinks of his uncle as his only family:

"When you lost your brother, was there someone to confort you?" "Yes," said Laurent. "In a way".

So, Nicaise and Aimeric embody Laurent's vulnerability. Nicaise is the child who still feels safe with the Regent. Aimeric is the young adult, who wants the Regent back. Both are Laurent. This is why Laurent wants to rescue them both. He grows close to Nicaise and tells him he will buy his contract and free him. He accepts Aimeric into his guard and refuses Damen's advice to send him away. And yet, the Regent uses them both against Laurent. He kills Nicaise and has Aimeric betray Laurent.

Laurent wants to help both Nicaise and Aimeric and the Regent tells him he can't. Just like he can't save himself.

According to the Regent's narrative:

Laurent is fond of Nicaise, but eventually leaves him alone out of selfishness

Laurent welcomes Aimeric in, but this is a blind spot that is used against him

By using vulnerable and abused kids, the Regent conveys to Laurent two messages. On the one hand Laurent isn't selfless enough to truly save anyone. He isn't good enough to be a protector like Auguste. On the other hand he is still foolish enough to trust others. He isn't smart enough to be a mastermind like the Regent. Too cruel and too foolish is how the Regent wants Laurent to see himself. So, that Laurent would feel trapped and cut others out.

And Laurent almost gives in, but is stopped by Damen:

"You tried to hurt me, and you have. I wish you would see that what you have just done to me is what your uncle is doing to you."

Damen goes through to Laurent and stops him from losing himself. He saves him from turning into a copy of the Regent.

THE REGENT

The Regent is Laurent's negative foil. He is who Laurent could become if he gave in to his worst instincts. As a matter of fact Laurent shares many similarities with his uncle:

Both are very intelligent master manipulators

Both are able to seize people's weaknesses and to use them

Both can be cruel and ruthless

Both tend to complicate things

This isn't by chance because the Regent does his best to break Laurent's heart and to warp his mind into a frailer copy of his own. He needs Laurent to think like him and to follow his rules, so that he can beat his nephew. This is why the Regent spends the years after Marlas by abusing Laurent in different ways.

The Regent's abuse has a double nature:

It has a sexual component: the Regent rapes Laurent multiple times as a child and shows possessiveness of him as a young adult. For example, many of his assassin attempts come with a sexual element. The assassins instructed to rape Laurent by using a drogue the Regent clearly used on his nephew as a child. Having Laurent and Damen sleep together, so that Laurent would eventually kill himself. Twisting Laurent and Damen's love story, as if to frame Laurent as dirty and despicable. Spreading voices about Laurent's supposed romantic feelings for Auguste. And so on...

It has an emotional component: the Regent keeps mentioning Auguste, which hurts Laurent in two ways. On the one hand it doesn't let him move on from his brother's death. On the other hand it drills into Laurent he isn't as good as the previous prince

"I hate to see you grown up like this," said the Regent, "when you were such a lovely boy."

The Regent basically blames Laurent for both growing up (physically) and not growing up (psychologically). He manipulates him by treating him as a child, while implying he isn't pure as a child anymore. The result is that Laurent hates himself.

This self-hate manifests itself in recklessness, suicidal tendencies and self-destroying behaviors. Like Laurent lashing out at others, when he is actually furious at himself. This is why specifically Laurent breaks Aimeric by using their shared trauma as a weapon. He hurts both Aimeric and Jord (who hasn't done anything, but being loyal to Laurent) because to truly face Aimeric means to accept himself and he can't.

Symbolically, Laurent kills Aimeric like he is slowly killing himself. This is why Aimeric's death happens after the reveal of Nicaise's murder by the Regent. Laurent kills Aimeric, just like the Regent kills Nicaise. Both victims are abused kids with frail and unstable senses of self, who deep down seek love and vulnerability. The lesson Laurent needs to learn is that he can't save the Nicaise within himself, if he doesn't help the Aimeric too. This is why it is important that Laurent is able to express empathy for Aimeric and to recognize he is a wounded person, just like Nicaise:

"Nicaise knew that when he got too old, he would be replaced." "Like Aimeric," said Damen. Into the long silence that stretched out between them, Laurent said: "Like Aimeric."

It is the first step to aknowledge his own hurt too.

AUGUSTE WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH

The second step is instead to face Auguste's ghost. Laurent's big brother is a double edged sword for the Prince. On the one hand Laurent deeply loves Auguste and is devastated by his dead. On the other hand his idealization of Auguste is unhealthy and leads to Laurent undervaluing himself.

These powerful contradictive feelings come to the surface in his "sparring" match with Damen. There, Laurent for once is able to show all his anger and grief. He lets it all out and is forced to accept he would have never been able to kill Damen in a fight. Still, another realization comes to the surface:

"I know," said Laurent, "that I was never good enough." Damen said, "Neither was your brother." "You're wrong. He was -" "What?" "Better than I am. He would have -" Laurent cut himself off. He pressed his eyes closed, with a breath of something like laughter. "Stopped you." He said it as though he could hear the ludicrousness of it.

Damen's words might seem cruel, but they are actually necessary because they break Laurent's internalised idolisation of Auguste. Laurent has been brought up with the convinction that Auguste is somehow better than him. This idea is present even before Auguste's death because of their father's favouritism. The early loss of his brother and subsequent abuse only makes this feeling stronger. Hence why Damen refusing this helps Laurent grow. Damen is the first one to see Laurent as his own person and to give him a choice:

Damen picked up the discarded knife, and when Laurent's eyes opened, he put it in Laurent's hand. Braced it. Drew it to his own abdomen, so that they stood in a familiar posture. Laurent's back was to the post. "Stop me," said Damen.

Laurent chooses to give up on his revenge. He chooses his present relationship with Damen over Auguste's ghost. He starts wishing for something positive for himself. He starts caring for himself. He starts looking toward a possible future.

JOKASTE = OPENING THE DOOR

To reach this future Laurent has to face Jokaste, who is really another version of Laurent:

"You're lucky we're alike," Jokaste said, stepping down. She and Laurent looked at one another like two reptiles.

Not only that, though, she is Aimeric and Nicaise combined in a single character:

Like Aimeric, she betrays a lover for selfish reasons (apparently)

Like Nicaise, she is caught up in a power struggle and has to choose the side, which ensures her survival, even if it means negate her heart to do so

"You mean, the only difference between us is that I chose the wrong brother?" As the stars began to drift across the sky, Laurent thought of Nicaise, standing in the courtyard with a handful of sapphires. "I don't think you chose," said Laurent.

This time Laurent is able to see this. He empathizes with Jokaste and gives her freedom. He opens her the door:

"We're alike. You said that. Would you have opened the door for me? I don't know. But you opened one for him."

In this way Laurent understands the Aimeric he could not understand and saves the Nicaise he could not save. By the end, Aimeric (Jokaste) is shown mercy and Nicaise (her baby) survives. Laurent gives Jokaste and her family a future. And in this way, he symbolically gives himself a future and a family. He opens his own door.

THE TRIAL

The climax of the trilogy is Laurent's trial in Ios. This choice is interesting on multiple levels:

It is an inversion of the ending of book 1, where Damen is blamed for the assassination attempt on Laurent's life and Laurent protects him. In fatc, it is not by chance that Damen mentions the episode in his initial defense of Laurent.

It shows Damen and Laurent's integration. As a matter of fact Damen is the one who realizes Paschal has the key to dethrone the Regent. He is able to do so because through Laurent he has learnt to observe others, to understand them and to empathize with them. Laurent instead selflessly gives everything up for the person he loves and bravely faces off the Regent with no plan, but simply with his heart. The Regent tries to turn it into a weakness and to force Laurent to give it up, but fails. Finally, he and not Damen is the one who fights Kastor and kills him. He uses the skills he has learnt for his revenge and uses them to protect Damen, instead. He chooses life and love over death and hate.

Most importanlty, though, the trial starts as a farce, but by the end it becomes a fair administration of justice, which punishes the criminal and recognizes the innocent. Let's see how this change happens.

NICAISE = VICTORY

Laurent wins not because of his mind, but because of his heart. Specifically, he wins because of the relationships he builds and of his ability to empathize with the humblest people, those nobody cares about.

First of all, Laurent obviously wins thanks to Damen. It is Damen choosing him over his kingdom that makes it possible to the tides to turn. So, it is because Laurent overcome his internalized hate for Damianos and slowly comes to accept and love him, that he is saved in the end. In a sense, the night where he has to choose if to let Damen die or to save him out of loyalty in volume 1 is when Laurent chooses who he wants to be. He can let a man he hates die without risking anything, like the Regent would. Or he can save that man our of a sense of fairness, like Auguste would. Laurent chooses the latter and makes the first true move towards his victory.

Secondly, Laurent is able to touch the councilors' sense of morality thanks to Loyse, Aimeric's mother. She reveals that her husband basically sold Aimeric to the Regent in exchange of power. She also explains how the Regent conspired with Kastor to kill Theodemes. This testimony isn't decisive because the assassination of Theodemes is a matter of Akielos. Nonetheless, Loyse re-opens the trial and gives importance to Aimeric's story and pain. It is also important that she is a woman because the Regent hates women. She is the character nobody considers, as everyone is focused on Guion's, the powerful councilor. And yet, Laurent does and convinces her to break free from her husband influence for the sake of her son.

Thirdly, Laurent is saved by Paschal's testimony. That said, Paschal is only able to reveal the truth about the Regent's murder of the King only because of Nicaise. In general, Nicaise is a character, who ends up being important in the finales of all three books:

In book one, Nicaise goes to Laurent's apartments after the attempted murder. He is clearly worried and can't decide if to openly switch sides and tell Laurent the truth or not. He also appears to tell Laurent goodbye and to give him his earrings. Symbolically, Laurent is saying goodbye to his younger and most innocent self, as he prepares to enter war with his uncle.

In book two, Nicaise's death is revealed in the climax and it leads to Laurent's decision to march on Charcy. It also kickstarts Laurent's deepest psychological crisis, as he struggles to keep a clean mind and shows how deep he is hurt and desperate.

In book three, Nicaise is the one who indirectly hands Laurent victory, as it is him who stole Govart's papers and gave him to Paschal.

In other words, Nicaise is the one who leads to victory, which fits his name. As a matter of fact Nicaise means "victorious", the person who brings victory and he delivers.

Thematically, this is very important, as Laurent initially regrets to have grown close to Nicaise:

"I killed Nicaise when I left it half done. I should have either stayed away from him, or broken his faith in my uncle. I didn't plan it out, I left it to chance. I wasn't thinking. I wasn't thinking about him like that. I just... I liked him."

He believes that because of their sibling-like bond Nicaise is now dead. He believes his influence isn't enough to break the Regent's control over Nicaise. And yet, it is precisely because of Laurent's love and care for Nicaise that the boy is able to rebel himself enough to steal key documents and to hand them to Laurent's side. Nicaise dies tragically, but his life and Laurent's kindness to him are not in vain. They change the destiny of two kingdoms. Laurent isn't able to save his child-self, but his child-self is strong enough to save him. Just like Laurent might not cancel what happened to him in the past, but can still move forward:

"Stop it, you're hurting him. You're hurting him. Let him go." A soldier was holding him back, and the boy was fighting him. Laurent looked at the boy, and in his eyes was the knowledge that some things couldn't be fixed. He said, "Get that boy out of here."

The new Regent pet once again mirrors a part of Laurent. The side of him that still sees the Regent at family. And yet, Laurent is finally able to accept this part of himself, but is strong enough to start healing. Just like as King he has now the chance to help as many children as the Regent hurt. Laurent ends is arc by growing up. He isn't a child anymore:

"You think you can defy me?" the Regent said to Laurent. "You think you can rule Vere? You?" Laurent said, "I'm not a boy anymore."

He isn't a boy anymore, he can't be controlled by the Regent anymore. He can now start a new life as his own person, free from the Regent and from Auguste's ghost. A life of love and new relationships.

#the captive prince #captive prince #laurent #damen #damianos #the regent #aimeric #nicaise #jokaste #my meta #the captive prince meta #asksfullofsugar #anonymous

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fanficsdumpomg · 6 months

Text

John Dory Boyfriend Headcannons

*John Dory and y'all met during his brozone days, you were in a band that frequently opened for them. You both met during an afterparty and you hit it off.

*John Dory and you would constantly spend time after shows, you got closer to his brothers during this time as well and became like a big sister to baby Branch. However, as much as you cared about John Dory you never wanted to take your relationship to the next level for fear of crazy fans.

*Your relationship came to a head after the big brozone concert where John had wanted to perfect the perfect family harmony, you didn't hear from him after the show so you went back to his family's pod to discover they had all quit the band and left baby branch alone.

*Feeling angered and Sad at JD's disappearance and leaving his brother behind you decided to help Rosiepuff take care of Baby Branch. After Rosiepuff's death, you however became like a parent to to branch.

*In the years that followed Branch had grown out of his shell and met his bff now girlfriend Poppy who helped him become a better person. You couldn't be more proud of him but where did this leave you? You spent so long taking care of him what were you going to do now?

*These feelings continued to build but you pushed it down with hobbies, these feelings exploded however on the day of Bridget and Gristle's wedding an unexpected guest appeared.

*JD was back and you were pissed not only for leaving you without a single word but only now showing up when he needed something from his brother.

"Y/N, I'm sorry...I was so young and angry I didn't give anything else a second thought but I have never stopped loving you."

*You didn't accept his apology and wanted nothing more to do with him but when Branch had agreed to go on the rescue mission to save Floyd you immediately wanted to go feeling that motherly instinct to protect Branch Arrise again. Also, you could take care of cute little Tiny diamond who had managed to sneak his way on Rhonda so this was a win-win for you.

*Getting in Rhonda, y'all set off to find Spruce and came across Vacay Isle; where a spruce turned Bruce now worked with his wife and family. After some convincing you guys managed to get Bruce to come along but not before performing to show/prove to his kids that yes, he was in a band.

*During the performance you were glad to see how happy Branch was with his brothers again and when he pulled Poppy on stage, John Dory pulled you up on stage as well where y'all performed the last verse of the song.

"I forgot how fun it was to perform with everyone... especially you <3."

*Okay, JD still has the band charm you see; but it will not work on you you tell yourself no matter how much you blush.

*Moving on with Bruce, you were well on your way to collect Clay and on the way over you were finally civil enough that you and JD could have a talk about what the two of you had been doing the last 15+ years. You told John all about how you cared for Branch at that time (which John thanked you for) and John Dory talked about his time hiking the Neverglade trail.

"Sounds...interesting to say the least, you'll have to bring me on your next adventure JD." you said smiling resting a hand on his.

*You had finally reached Clay after Branch's brilliant yet gross plan to have Rhonda track Clay with his old Funder Underwear.

*Arriving at the abandoned gold course you meet Clay and Viva the leader of the putt-putt trolls and as it would turn out Poppy's long-lost sister.

*After Viva and Poppy went off to reconnect, Clay informed you of her tragic backstory on how she was separated from King Peppy and Poppy during the night of the troll escape. Clay also let you know that Viva is very protective over the trolls she protects here so unfortunately you would have to leave Poppy behind if you all wanted to get a move on to get to MT. Rageous.

*Unfortunately, Viva did discover y'all as you were about to leave and shut the gates effectively trapping you inside. You were however able to escape with Poppy due to Clay opening the gate again but left behind a broken-hearted Viva.

*Now you were on you were way to Mt. Rageous and the gang + poppy decided to have a little practice session which in your opinion was going very well until John Dory stopped it claiming it wasn't perfect enough. Feeling frustrated everyone lashed out and him especially Branch who was disappointed when he learned that his brothers planned to split up once again after they saved Floyd. He stormed out of Rhonda with a distraught Poppy following behind him

*You were incredibly angry not Just at John Dory this time but at the rest of them, how could they be so insensitive towards their little brother.

"You know what John Dory, you have hurt your little brother and me for the last time. You better hope when we get to MT. Rageous that he is okay 'cause I will end you!" And with that, you stormed off towards the back of Rhonda.

*And you stayed at the back of Rhonda till MT. Rageous where you were kidnapped by Velvet and Veneer. Velvet and Veneer had no use for you so they threw you for draining purposes but Velvet thought it might be cute to use you as a little good luck charm and captured you in one of her diamond earrings. Poppy and Branch confronted the two of them at the entrance to the rage dome and outed them as liars/frauds which prompted their roadshow in their car.

*Horrified you watched the brothers get drained as Branch, Poppy, and Tiny Diamond raced to save you on the MT. Rageous freeway. They eventually got aided by Bridget, Gristle, and Viva and managed to corner the Popstars on a boat.

*The fight was tough and they managed to free John Dory, Clay, Bruce, and You but not Floyd. And in one last attempt, the seven of you performed hoping to achieve the perfect family harmony. It worked and you were able to save Floyd at last, shattering the diamond prisons that trapped both you and the brothers.

"John Dory...getting kidnapped made me realize that I have never stopped loving you no matter how big-headed and stupid you are. The time we spent together these last few days has made me realize that you are still the silly goofy boy I fell in love with all those years ago." You said smiling.

"I love you too, Y/N!" he shouted with a grin pulling you into a kiss.

#trolls x reader #trolls john dory #trolls john dory x reader

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bao3bei4 · 11 months

Text

ON THE TSHIRT METHOD TO WRITING ESSAYS IN YOUR OWN TIME:

i have had a couple people mention to me that they would like to write essays too, but they are a little out of practice. so i thought i should gather some scattered thoughts into one place. this is not a systematic guide. i am young and inexperienced and still working out things for myself, but this is my basic process and some things that have helped me, summarized.

my biggest single piece of advice is to write with your proverbial pussy. you are not writing for a grade so don't act like it. forget rigor, forget academic style, etc. read what you're interested in, and write following up on the threads that you're interested in. don’t sweat the details. just do you.

if you still need more advice..... here’s a long winded post.

step zero: if you have no clue what you want to say yet

read. and read a lot.

but be realistic. be kind to yourself. your attention is a precious resource, and it is getting eaten up by shit out of your control all the time. if you’ve had a busy day, you may still have the brain power left to read. i almost never do. lol. so make sure to carve out time on a day off, if possible. otherwise you might end up completely fried, reading the same sentence over and over, and ending up scrolling on your phone LMAO. <-- painful lesson also to this end, if you haven’t picked up a denser book in a while, start with shorter articles, especially ones written more recently. if your attention wanders, try getting a physical book instead. the most important thing is just starting things you’ll actually read. i’ve seen a lot of people (and been that person) who was like. “oh i’m going to start with THE canonical text in a subject i’m interested in” which makes sense right? but that book is inevitably long and dense and convoluted and boring. you can come back to it later. this shouldn’t feel like a chore!

genuinely this is the most helpful thing you can do is just. read anything. it may be difficult at first (or always), but it is still the easiest way to engage with the foremost experts from around the world and the entirety of written history on any subject you are interested in. there’s not really a substitute to this.

note: you may say that people can and do come up with brilliant ideas independently of their access to written works. this is true! but if you are one of them, you should skip this section/post, because you already know what you want to say. okay that was a little too facetious. let me revise: when i say that, without reading, it will be hard to come up with more complex ideas than what you have now, that isn’t necessarily pejorative. maybe your current ideas and impulses are original and meaningful and complex. if they aren’t, however, you don’t have to resign yourself to it. your experiences in real life are the most valuable thing you can bring to the table, but it can be very difficult to articulate and contextualize them without community—whether that be irl, or the simple textual company of other writers. you can let other people help you and teach you. basically, this is a long winded way of saying something extremely simple: reading is not the only way to gain knowledge, or even the best. but it is an extremely consistent and relatively egalitarian way.** **scihub and libgen and sometimes the public library are your friends. (my local library’s book coverage is spotty) who cares about piracy. LMAO.

you may surprise yourself by how nicely you fall into little spirals. you read one thing. and you are enamored with the way the author approaches their subject. so you end up reading everything else they’ve written, and then you start on the authors they list that inspire them in their interviews. maybe you just read one article that’s a little dry but it cites something else that seems far more interesting. read that next. and so on.

if you are struggling to read that’s okay. you have options. start a book club (or just get a friend who also wants to read more). if that sounds like too much work, pick a friend to keep updated on all your new facts. you just want to get used to reading something, and telling someone your favorite parts again. skim books. skip the boring parts. drop them entirely and find a more interesting one. no one’s going to quiz you. this is for your own enjoyment.

also important here: read books that make you want to write. sometimes this is because the methods and/or prose of the author are so exciting, you want to do something just like that. sometimes it’s because the content is so exciting, you want to say something about that too. sometimes they speak so powerfully to your own life, you want to tell people this is me!! i see this!! there are books i just enjoy reading, sure, and i do read them. but you know how, like, a good movie makes you want to tell stories too? good theory should do that too, in my opinion.

step one: you have some ideas now.

these ideas don’t have to be set in stone. but you should have an idea now of what you might talk about. personally, for me, i have two interconnected types of essay ideas.

interventions. this is like [tumblr voice] Why Is Nobody Talking About This. i see some sort of hole. maybe i know how to fill it, maybe i don’t.

free associations. basically i read one thing, or some analysis of one thing. and then it reminded me of another thing. and i’m like. i want to tease apart their connections, their similarities, and their differences.

there are more types of ideas, i’m sure. but these are the ones i consistently have. with me, the second kind is more common. very rarely do i find that my thoughts are that original. rather, i’ve found that one of my strengths as a writer is being able to make connections that other people haven’t made, or haven’t made in depth before. IN MY OPINION.

so i find it quite flexible. maybe i watch a movie, and it reminds me of my own life, because i think two women in the movie could be sad queer freaks. and i’m a sad queer freak. or it could be that i think scum villain could be analyzed through the framework of freudian psychoanalysis. you get the idea.

at this stage of the process, i don’t have a thesis, necessarily. but i have a couple phrases i’m drawn to. i have a bullet point or two. i have vibes.

to use an example from this blog, one of my friends hui once mentioned that that one fan image was going around again. we were going ughhh it’s victorian not chinese! together and they said “you should write a meta on it.” i wasn’t sure quite yet what i had to say. but i knew a couple things.

this is, incidentally, because i had done some research into chinoiserie before, because i had cited the zuroski book for a paper i had to write for an english class some years before on pride and prejudice and its use of descriptions of material culture, an essay that in turn was inspired by my random yet deeply felt conviction that jane austen hated me personally and wanted to kill me. this is why i encourage reading a lot. i think.

to work on this stage, make lists. lots of them. i have a .txt file where i keep every essay idea i have. a lot of them are a sentence. or they're lists of books or theorists i think i could make something out of. or they're theses that feel true, but i’m not sure why yet.

it took me a while to get to this point. just like with writing fic, there was a period when i first started where i was like. i only have one idea. i’m going to write it, and then i’m never going to write again. and then i had just one more idea. after a while. eventually you will find you have so many ideas and the world is full of possibilities. it’s a muscle you have to flex. like reading. and telling people about what you’re reading.

actually, i feel like there was a step 0.5 here that i completely skipped.

step zero point five that i skipped: how to generate ideas

my very truly complete “first time writing something semi-academic that was original” (with a loose definition of the word original) was literally just me reading literary criticism of one book, and saying “i think this author’s thoughts can be applied to this other book” and found some textual evidence that supported that the process could be replicated.

this is like, writing with training wheels on. eventually i got better at it (see aforementioned chinoiserie essay. i hope you agree.). but that was a good place to start for me. it made the proverbial blank page less intimidating, knowing i had a scaffolding.

i suggest trying this. see how it goes for you. read around until you find some piece of criticism, or just some theory about how something works, that you like. and using your newfound hammer, go look for some nails.

note: i know this expression is meant to like. be a negative thing. but you do have to start somewhere. it’s okay if it sucks. it’s just for your practice and your enjoyment.

be cautious of stances. weak writing (in my OPINIONNNN) tries to unilaterally defend or condemn a behavior. what you need to do is treat your writing as a bit. and then you need to run with it. you need to take it farther than what is reasonable. if this bit is truly actually deeply true, then what does it mean about yourself? it’s like using a new set of pronouns as a joke or something. you know what i mean? (that was an example of what i’m trying to communicate here)

what else is key to look out for... look for oppositional pairs or tensions. look for perverse incentives and vicious circles. look for embarrassing ideas. that is, what would be extremely embarrassing if it was true? (or to admit that it was true) you may go—tshirt, here you’re just describing things that are sexy. yes, exactly, that’s the point. you want things that thrill.

just keep reading and making notes until everything echoes with something else. now you’re ready for step two.

step two: refine your ideas further.

let me do this by demonstration. once more extending my earlier example of my chinoiserie essay, i knew that i really wanted to take zuroski’s points and basically... steal them. this is called “citation,” i guess. but i thought the following insights were useful to me:

british women were invested in chinese material objects

they incorporated them into their own subjectivity

past a certain point, they no longer “consumed” these signifiers, but these signifers became theirs

critique of one was able to stand in for critique of the other

and from being on fandom twitter, i already had the following insights:

people deliberately blurred the lines between china and england when it came to fans and tea

people also liked talking about victorian modesty when it came to china

so it seemed like victorian england and china had a privileged relationship, in a lot of people’s minds in fandom.

so it didn’t really seem a stretch to say... how can we look at one history, and apply it to our present?

it was a bit of the combo of the two: i saw something i didn’t see people were talking about, and it reminded me of something else i’d read before.

something that helps me a lot is tweeting about my essay ideas. if you have me on my private account, you already know this. it forces me to explain myself to someone who doesn’t know what i’m talking about in a very succinct way. oftentimes, i tweet something out while i’m brainstorming, and then i steal the phrasing back into my essay. see? tweets can be writing too.

this is microdosing on step zero’s “read something and practice telling a friend about it.” now you’re writing something and telling a friend about it.

step three: okay now you can like. open a google doc

make an outline. i know i know i know. i’m sorry. you can start just barfing thoughts if you want, but eventually everything that was on the top of your head will be out. and now you can start thinking about structure. the reason the outline is important is because it makes clear the logical progression from one idea to the next.

i know i usually bounce around in my writing (a tendency which has been magnified here because this is so casual LMAO), but i always want to make sure that my points are substantiated. if we want to talk about how a causes b, we should prove a, we should prove the causal link, and only then can we infer b, for instance. it doesn’t really matter what order that happens in (or even that we set about it that way), but the more complicated your idea is, the longer checklist you need. it’s just a checklist. that’s all.

as you start writing, you’ll probably need to read some more. you’re going to want to say something you think is true, but you’re going to realize that you haven’t proved it (or you can’t). go look to see if someone else has proved it.

maybe you’re right. add that evidence in. maybe you’re wrong. now your essay has a new direction. there is a living thing beneath you. actually, on that idea—

i tend to structure my outlines (if i’m not sure yet what my point is) by pasting a bunch of quotes in a document, and reorganizing them until they make sense, they seem to flow. and then i start explaining why, until i realized i have begun to walk off in a new direction. always embrace that new direction. eventually you will find that you have not been taking twists and turns, but actually you were dizzily walking along a straight path. (unless you have been unfocused and you are trying to say too many things at once. ask a friend to read your essay if you’re not sure which is the case.)

quotes are the smallest unit of your analysis. work with evidence. or, at least, i do. it makes writing an essay like solving a mystery. the idea of just spontaneously generating something new fills me with terror. rather, i want to autopsy something, trace its steps, and then discover how it came to be dead. this may not be true for you. but it’s true for meeeee and this is my post.

tl;dr

0. read something and tell someone about it/post it out

0.5. come up with a bit and run with it

1. think "why is no one talking about this" or start free associating

2. come up with weird connections and tell someone about it/post it out

3. collect all of your posts and ideas into a gdoc and organize them.

anyway i like reading posts like this because i’m incredibly nosy. so i tried to write out the sort of thing i like to read from other people. i don’t suggest you actually try to replicate it (if anyone would even want to.) practically basically i just encourage you to try any single part of this that you think was interesting or relatable or helpful. personally, i suggest reading a book and posting your favorite lines from it. if you do this a couple times, i think you will find the seeds of an essay waiting for you in your own posts.

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hisui-dreamer · 1 year

Text

a world without you

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar x gn!reader

Synopsis: When Leona hears the Shroud brothers' plan, he thinks back to his herbivore, and how their existence has changed so much for him.

Tags: spoilers up to Ch 6!!!, established relationship, angst but fluff, drama, bot proofread

Word count: 878

Notes: this can be read as my view of leona's character, so please accept my leona brainrot <3 just some thoughts I had when I read ch 6. also leona might be a little ooc but it's his internal thoughts so I like to think he's more emotional :3

"It needs to reset before we can start a new game."

Shocked expressions were exchanged across the room as the implications of the younger Shroud's plan slowly settled on everyone's mind.

Leona couldn't help but think that, if the opportunity had been given to him a year ago, he'd likely have accepted whatever the robot kid was going for.

Leona always felt that he had been cheated in life. Ever since he was young, he was constantly compared to his older brother, who was seen as the epitome of success in their family, the perfect heir to the throne. Everyone would constantly praise his brother's achievements while dismissing his own accomplishments as trivial. It didn't matter that he was working hard to prove himself, that he could wield such powerful magic as a child.

He often wondered why he had to be born, if he was only meant to stay in another person's shadow to make them seem brighter in contrast.

No matter how hard he studied, how mature he acted, or how strong his magic was, it was all pointless. The ghostly whispers of the palace staff continued, and the judging remarks from the council intensified.

He was born as the second prince.

And he was destined to forever be just that—second.

When it finally clicked for him, he stopped trying. Why make an effort in anything, when time and time again, he had given his all only to end up with nothing? They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, yet expecting different results. Despite what others might say, Leona was incredibly brilliant, with a sharp mind fit to be a wise ruler. He knew, without a doubt, that it was pointless to continue down the road of insanity.

Instead, he continued down the path of sloth, eventually finding everything, the entire world, pointless. He found himself skipping classes and taking naps whenever he could, hiding away from the world where he would never be able to stand under the sun, but at least comforted by the serene embrace of his dreams.

He had wanted to turn the world to sand and start over.

It had been a wild thought, but here the Shrouds were, proposing an entire reset of the world.

Leona's mind raced as he contemplated the consequences of such an ordeal. Indeed, he had always dreamed of a world where everyone had an equal chance to succeed, where people were not judged based on their social status, birth order, or magical ability. A world where he was no longer burdened by the expectations of his family, where he was free to be who he truly was, a world where everyone was given a fair chance to succeed, and where no one was left behind.

And yet, without realising it, the thought of starting over in a new world had left his mind ever since you came into his life. You were everything he had ever wished for but never deserved in a partner—kind, caring, and endlessly supportive, always by his side despite his crude demeanour and harsh words. You showed him that there was meaning to living, opening his eyes to the people around him. He had friends who cared about him, incredible talent that could bring great changes, and most importantly, you, his dearest herbivore who shone like a beacon in the shadowed depths of his heart.

For the first time in his life, he felt truly content with what he had, despite all the flaws and problems that persisted.

He had never cared about resetting the world and losing everything he had to start anew. But it was a different story now.

What would happen to the people he cared about in this new world? What if he never met you? What if everything he had ever known and loved was erased? And what of the memories that he made at NRC with you, with Savanaclaw, and everyone else?

Leona's thoughts drifted to his memories of you, your fierce eyes staring directly into his, determined to befriend him; the quiet evenings you had spent together under the starry sky sharing stories and enjoying each other's company; the way you would instinctively lean into him for comfort; the dazzling smile that graced your face when you spotted him in a crowd.

He made up his mind then.

He didn't want, no, he wouldn't risk losing you. Your presence had given him the joy he had never experienced, the hope for a better day tomorrow, and he wouldn't give that up for anything. He would continue to work towards a fairer world, but he would do so without resetting everything that he had come to cherish.

He had learned to appreciate the people in his life. He had found happiness, despite the unfairness of the world. He knew that he had found something precious in this unfair world—someone who cherished him wholeheartedly for whatever he may be.

No, he doesn't want to reset the world.

"I'll grant you one thing. The world totally sucks as it is. But I don't think your new one would be any more to my taste. So I'm going to stick with this one. It's less of a pain."

#writing this made me realise vil and leona's characters really mirror each other #vil always works hard because he believes that that will increase his possibility of achieving his dreams #and meanwhile leona has stopped believing in hard work because his efforts have never gotten recognised #my boy's lost all hope #and for vil the film industry is something way more flexible than the royal family's views #so i feel like leona does respect vil and his hard work #just like he respects jamil's talents #hes so optimistic for everyone except himself #ok i wanna really give him a hug now #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst wonderland #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland leona #twst leona

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