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bangchansgirlsblog · 8 months

Text

Broken Headsets PT 2

-Chan

Warning: A lot of Angst.

Pairing: BangChan x reader.

Summary: where he snaps at you while working.

!Not proofread!

“Baby I’m so sorry, please open up the door.” Chan’s voice echoes through the door and into the bathroom.

My knees against my chest as I was calming down from a panic attack. The sleeves on my sweater now dump from all the tears it was sucking up.

“G-go away” I cry louder. My body shaking and my salty tears freely running down my hot face.

“I don’t…I don’t want to talk to you right now!”

“Babe I’m sorry okay? I didn’t mean to snap like that. Just let me talk to you. Let me hold you. I’m worried. Your going to have another panic attack”

“BangChan leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to you.” I throw whatever was in my reach at the wooden door. Making him jump on the other side of the door. Now HE couldn’t hold back his tears. He wanted to be able to sort it out because he genuinely didn’t mean to snap Or cause anyone pain.

“Okay I’ll give you some time my love, please don’t be angry with me. I’m sorry.” His voice now low and quiet. I had no response because I was so angry and so hurt by him.

I wasn’t being dramatic right?

The sound of his footsteps disappear down the hall making me quickly but softly wipe my tears away and get up to wash my face. The cold water making my body shiver. I stare at myself. Hair up in a bun, eyes red and eye bags deep from all the lack of sleep. A fucking mess.

The front door slamming was what made me jump getting me out of the trance I was in. Had he left? I pick up the container that was on the ground due to the fact I threw it and open the bathroom door.

I find Berry sat in-front of it as if waiting for me. I give her a soft smile and pick her up.

Walking through the house looking for any sign of Chan but there was none.

I glance at the clock and it read 12:45. Anger rises up my chest once again because how dare he leave the house at this hour knowing how much anxiety I have when his out late? Such a selfish bastard!

Get home.

I send him a text and switch off my phone to look around. A mess the house was.

“Shall we clean up Berry?” I look at the dog in my hands who didn’t even seem to be bothered by anything. “I swear I talk to you more than I talk to Chan” a chuckle leaves my lips when she starts licking my face.

“Now come on let’s get started.” I place her down and pick up things and put them away. My body needing the distraction but my mind and thoughts running at a speed of lightning.

Emotions running through “my mind and soul”. Cringe lol.

2:30 am.

The sound of the clock ticking was starting to irritate me and craw under my skin.

Worry slowly crawling up my chest. Where was he? Was he safe? Was he okay? Where could he be?

I hated myself for putting my self through this because after the little stunt he pulled causing me to sit in the bathroom crying my heart out for 2 hours begging for someone to come save me. I was still sat in our living at 2:30 am waiting and wondering where he had gone too.

Did he leave me? Surely he hadn’t cause all his stuff was still here.

My feet slowly taps the floor, something I do when I’m nervous. I tag on my sweater which is now stretched out due to the constant pulling. The material laying between my fingers feeling very satisfying.

“Why do you have to do this to me Chan?” I say softly, talking to myself.

The house was quiet once again like I’m used too.

The lights were off except for his studio room led lights that were on and passing through the glass window.

Berry was now sat on my lap cuddling me because I knew she sensed the stress my body was going through. She always just knew and she always tried to cuddle of just play around whenever Chan or I where going through something.

A sigh leaves my lips. I was tired. I needed sleep but I needed to know if he was safe.

I check my phone to see if he had responded but nothing came through and when I was about to set down the phone it stars to buzz making me jolt up. Han’s name pops up with a picture of me and him when we were at an adventure park in Japan.

I quickly pick up the phone hoping that somehow Chan was with him and they were doing some project.

“Hello?” My voice rough but still soft from all the crying.

“Hey baby.” He says softly from the other end of the phone.

“Hey..”

“Are you doing okay?” He asks, I could hear the nervous tone in his voice.

“Mhm” a hum in response.

“Channie Hyung is with us in the dorms okay? He showed up here really upset so we told him to just stay over until everything is calm,”

I feel my heart break into pieces. Was he really that upset that he didn’t want to stay in the same home as me? He knew how I hated when he didn’t sleep at home.

“Oh, okay that’s alright. Thank you for letting me know,” I tell him. A weigh being lifted off my shoulder because now that I knew he was safe I could sleep or so I thought.

After hanging up the phone. I slowly put Berry aside and cleanup the cold plate that’s till say on the table and decide to finish up the dishes.

The scent of soap filling my nostrils and a warm liquid running down my face. Tears.

Who would have thought that I would be here at the age of 25 doing dishes at 2 am while crying.

My vision was blurry and my legs were weak. My heart beating fast as I could hear it in my ears.

My face was hot and my body trembled from the heart aching sobs that left it.

I couldn’t be under this much stress.

It wasn’t good for the baby.

Pt 1 ⬇️

691 notes · View notes

goingbuggy · 9 months

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When you have time I would LOVE to hear your thoughts about post time skip buggy!!

Hi, anon! Sorry for the late-ish reply. I thought carefully about how I wanted to reply, but alas, here I am again, starting my metas in the strangest places. Anyways, here’s a seemingly unimportant question: Why is it funny that Buggy keeps failing upwards?

My answer also happens to be one of Pixar's 22 Rules of Storytelling:

"Coincidences to get characters into trouble are great; coincidences to get them out of it are cheating."

You might be wondering why I chose this quote -- after all, Buggy manages to escape most conflicts by sheer coincidence. Take the canon-filler episode(s) “Little Buggy's Big Adventure,” for example; coincidence is the sole reason why he ends up on Gaimon’s island and eventually finds Alvida, one of his future allies. But for as much as Oda is guilty of using coincidences to benefit Buggy, he also creates coincidences to get Buggy into trouble. Sure, Buggy left on good terms with Gaimon/found Alvida, but only after:

Suffering a humiliating defeat at the hands of Luffy

Losing most of his body

Being chased by killer fish/eaten by a ginormous bird

Nearly getting shot in the head by Gaimon over a misunderstanding

Being chased AGAIN by a deadly crab???? LMAO???

Buggy’s “luck” functions like a pendulum -- for every good thing that happens to him, horrible things are guaranteed to follow. This core aspect of his character is what keeps the gag afloat. Buggy is never rewarded by the narrative without experiencing consequences. In order to earn moments of respite, he has to suffer.

I find it hilarious when people argue that Buggy doesn’t deserve to have good things happen to him. Because, yeah? Duh. Oda loves having his cake and eating it too. It’s not necessarily good to play both sides with the audience when it can cheapen emotional impact, but Oda will absolutely continue to make Buggy both a complete joke and a genuine character. He has fun that way. However, he’s not going to help Buggy without hurting him first.

But that's a very meta perspective. How does Buggy view his own beneficial coincidences? He’s now an emperor, and extremely close to the One Piece/Pirate King title that he so desperately wants. But why does he think he’s being rewarded, in-universe?

His facade.

His devoted followers, his influence, that billion-berry bounty, his emperor status -- all of it stems from his fake persona and its snowball effect. He’s well aware of this. In fact, I think it’s likely that he hates himself for being such a coward and hiding behind lies. But when he sees his true self as worthless, what else can he do except dig himself into a deeper hole?

Look at 1082. Buggy finally stands up for himself, claiming that wealth and power come from chasing after your dreams -- not grand schemes. Here, he’s talking to himself as much as he’s talking to Crocodile and Mihawk.

“This is wrong… This isn’t how I wanted my life to go…”

It’s a very depressing peek at the man behind the curtain. Buggy only ever wanted to follow his dreams, but he uses schemes to get ahead instead, because they're all he thinks he has. His lies are a crutch to depend on, so he doesn't have to face the truth: he doesn't believe in himself.

To me, 1082 reads as a "Hail Mary" moment from a character at an emotional low. Buggy still doesn't believe in himself, but he is saying: Fuck it. If Shanks and I finally have an equal chance at becoming Pirate King, I at least have to try... Right? We can confirm his lack of self-confidence, because Buggy even admits he got here by “luck or chance or whatever."

He cannot entertain the possibility that he'd get this far any other way. Of course he doesn't see himself as Shanks' equal. It’s one of many reasons he didn’t want to go with Shanks at Loguetown; he assumed he’d be working “under” Shanks (even though Shanks only said “Come with me!"), because he truly believes he is lesser in terms of potential/greatness. ("You coward!" can also be interpreted as Buggy projecting his own insecurities onto Shanks.) Buggy's decision in 1082 is a desperate leap of faith. "Go for broke," "shoot for the moon," etc.

Post-Timeskip Buggy may appear more dangerous than ever before, but in reality, he’s just a small fish in a big pond. The farther he crawls his way up the ladder of success, the worse he feels, because the life he has built is not how he wanted to live at all. Based on everything we've known about Pre-Timeskip Buggy, we should expect him to be happier than ever. He has influence. Power. His monetary value in the eyes of the World Government has shot up exponentially. But look at the poor guy. He's miserable.

If you've ever seen Better Call Saul, I think this scene from S4E9 is very similar to how I feel about Buggy:

JIMMY: There you go! Kick a man when he’s down! KIM: Jimmy, you are always down.

Buggy is a character who is always down, even when you think he might be up. Until he stops maintaining that false image, he will always be punished by the narrative pendulum he's trapped himself in.

Unfortunately, change is hard, especially with the stakes he’s currently facing. If Buggy actually has to fight Blackbeard, Luffy, or Shanks... he can’t. Not alone. He needs people to believe the facade, because that's what got him here in the first place. He may look invincible, but he is quite possibly the most vulnerable character right now.

Crocodile and Mihawk would sell him to Satan for one corn chip (especially after that stunt he pulled in 1082). We haven't seen him improve his physical abilities (unless Oda pulls some off-screen bullshit). As an emperor, he has more people gunning for his head than ever before. Buggy’s last line of defense is his long-running gag -- if Oda decides to subvert our expectations, he’s a dead man walking.

And who would he have to blame but himself? He built his image on smoke and mirrors. Eventually, he's going to have to pay the price.

If Pre-Timeskip Buggy is a man defined by coincidence, then Post-Timeskip Buggy is defined by consequence.

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charleslee-valentine · 5 months

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For The Texas Chainsaw Fanworks Event Day 1: Favorite Ship

Ship(s): Franklin Hardesty x Nubbins Sawyer, past Drayton Sawyer x Lefty Enright.

Word count: ~3,800

Warnings: child abuse mention, ableism mention, tense family dynamics.

@texas-chainsaw-fanworks

______

Franklins been at the house for all of ten minutes before a hefty, but docile raccoon gets dumped into his lap.

The Sawyer boys keep her as a pet, since they aren’t allowed any dogs after the last one raided the chicken coop of all the hens and had to be sold off. The worst their raccoon has done is chew through the wall paper, but since it’s already peeling off, that couldn’t be used against her.

Besides, she’s lazy and more than a little overweight after a few long years of getting her sustenance from table scraps, candy, and lots and lots of berries from the bushes out back. Sending her back out into the wild now wouldn’t be any bit kinder than keeping her safe and pampered.

Franklin’s well used to her being around all the time, but it’s only recently he’s started being allowed to hold her. Most of the time without any input from himself, since Nubbins just drops her down onto his lap without any warning.

Like right now, with the raccoon all curled up on him like he’s the comfiest pillow in the house. He gets comfortable scratching behind her ears and patting her tummy pouch, no longer afraid of bites.

Today it’s not just Franklin and Nubbins sitting about, but Bobby’s tagging along again, mostly because he doesn’t have much else to do. Franklin figures it probably gets lonely, just the family here on the farm.

So he’s learned to stop taking offense when Bobby’s curious eyes stare at him for minutes at a time, usually building up to a question.

This time, it’s: “Y-You ever- uh, you ever h-held a c-critter like her be..before?”

Not counting the times the Sawyer boys themselves saw to it that he had held a random rodent they found, that would be a no. Franklin answers to that truth, “Never. You sure she wouldn’t give y’all rabies or somethin?”

Bobby shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. N-Not our miss I-Ivy!”

“Sh-She don’t bite, o-or scratch, or n-nothin’!” Nubbins testifies, breaking the silence that had been his cover since Franklin arrived.

Sometimes he gets like that, all quiet and tense. He’ll usually be much more active with his random movements when that happens, and Bobby will be something of a translator for him. It’s just part of him.

Franklin doesn’t make a big deal out of it, or he knows Nubbins will get more quiet. He just teases, “That’s what you said about Bobby too.”

There’s a short pause, where the twins are processing what he meant. Franklin almost has enough time to worry they took offense to the little quip, but not before they start cackling. It’s the kind of laughter that’s so loud and genuine it echoes off the walls, and it makes Franklin want to laugh too.

He just does. With the boys, it’s easy.

Especially when Nubbins declares delightedly that, “B-But we still l-like him!”

It’s something about the way they can poke fun at each other and knows it’s all for laughs, even when some of the comments they get out in the world aren’t so innocent. The twins hear it all the time when there’s no one home to watch them and they have to go to work with their older brother.

Really, they throw themselves in front of the hateful words, knowing the next in line to take them are Bubba, or even Franklin. People like them don’t get it easy.

So sitting around the table, with a raccoon in his lap, making playful remarks with his boys? That’s something worth holding on to.

They all (except for sleepy Miss Ivy, of course) look up when the only sister in the Sawyer family walks through, having heard their conversation and announcing it to all with, “I wouldn’t count out the rabies anyhow. Bobby boy’s a wild animal.”

“H-Hey! That’s not t-true!” He argues after her, not as close with his older sister to let things like that slide.

All at once, he clumsily pushes his chair back, already darted off after her for some kind of revenge before the chair had even stopped wobbling.

Nubbins waves his hands about excitedly, craning and watching the conflict until he can’t see it anymore because the siblings haul up the stairs to keep arguing. And then he turns back to Franklin so fast his own hair hits him in the face.

Shaky, clumsy fingers pull the strands apart out of his eyes, reorienting and smiling all over again with his eyes fixed on Franklin.

Boy, Franklin knows what’s coming next.

Ever since the first time they kissed, Nubbins has been obsessed with it. Every quiet moment they get, he’s pressing kisses to Franklin’s skin wherever he can reach, be that his hands and his arms or his face.

It’s not faring well for their secret, but it’s also not something Franklin wants to stop anytime soon. Right now, it’s all the shy and chaste stuff still, little presses and gentle bumps, no lust in the mix of romantic feelings. The way they’re comfortable.

Though, Franklin still hasn’t gotten over blushing as red as a rose when Nubbins does kiss him.

This time, it’s a kiss right on his cheek, which is definitely heated up and blushing before Nubbins even pulls away. He’s not even sure what it is that flusters him so much. Probably just somebody so open with his emotions, showing them all for him.

It makes his hands sing.

Flapping and shaking like Nubbins taught him how to. Burning off all the happy that builds up in his body when his boyfriend gives him those sweet kisses.

They’re both doing it, the hand dances, when Drayton floats into the room randomly, holding papers they’d gotten in the mail and ranting about their contents under his breath. Something about bills and taxes. Franklin smiles sheepishly, embarrassed to be in a struggling man’s house, but he gets no response.

It’s all just hot air anyway. Nubbins reminds him of that by poking him in the side where he’s ticklish, making him squish up to one side and giggle. A wordless way of saying, ‘don’t pay no attention to him!’

Big brother Drayton grabs something out the drawers in the corner and paces back out to the kitchen, closing the door behind himself to deal with his troubles on his own. A couple of sheltered up seventeen year olds don’t know all that much about paying for things, so they wouldn’t have been much help to him anyway.

The thing is, the second they’re alone, Nubbins pulls his little stunt again. Kissing Franklin, that is.

This time it’s twice. Once just past the side of his mouth, and once straight on his lips. It gives him all kinds of fuzzy and warm feelings. Makes him want to grab onto his boy and never let go.

But he has to. Cause they’re interrupted once again, darn it.

The boys’ younger cousin Johnny comes running out of nowhere. He ducks behind the table, giggling up a storm. It’s only a few seconds before Bubba stumbles in, squealing delightfully. The children run around in circles, screaming back and forth with each other, playing some sort of chasing game. Bubba roars and Franklin thinks he might be playing as a dragon or something.

It’s around this time that the raccoon in Franklin's lap gets annoyed and jumps down, sauntering away towards the screen door to get outside, to get herself into some trouble probably. He sees Sissy come through and pick the old lady raccoon up and carry her to the back door instead, where the yard is fenced in and safer for her.

Nubbins is to shut down to do it himself, as he covers his ears. He doesn’t like all the noise, but he gets in trouble if he tells Bubba to stop making it. Neither of them can help it. Franklin taps Nubbins gently and shows him to shake his hands and get the yucky feelings off. To try to cope with Bubbas way of copin.

He wiggles his bottom in his chair, which Franklin would imitate if he could. He nods and smiles at least so Nubbins knows he’s doing good. A few months back, or years when the two had first met, Nubbins would’ve snapped at Bubba and hurt both of their feelings in the process.

They don’t really know what Nubbins has got going on in his head that makes him so irritable, but he’s not too good at controlling it, not without some help. Franklin wants to be the one that helps him. Forever and ever.

‘Cause Nubbins is helpful back. He teaches him to do fun things and how to make cool art. Over home, Franklin wouldn’t get nearly as much conversation, he’d probably just sit there quietly all the time and be miserable.

So he hopes it’s alright that he’s here so often. The family accepts him. Even the pet raccoon likes him!

If he’s got Bubba’s approval, he knows he’s good, and that he must, since Bubba gets hurt while playing with Johnny, and goes straight to Franklin.

He’d been running around the table again and bumped his head, and welled up with tears right away. Happy little squeaks turned into loud and snotty wines. Johnny and Nubbins freeze up, being the youngest and the most distracted two in the whole family, neither of them know how to fix it when Bubba gets upset. But Franklins been watchin’ for all his time here. He thinks he can do this.

“Come here, Bubs. Lemme see.” He adjusts his wheelchair around to face Bubba and holds his arms out to him.

The younger boy, a preteen now but much taller than Franklin, inches over and sadly lays his cheek on his shoulder. Franklin has to lean just a bit to observe the little red mark on his head, glad to see it didn’t even break the skin, “Hey now, it’s just a bump. You’re alright. No blood.”

Instant relief. Bubba babbles and pats his hands on Franklin's arms, and he knows that’s the boy thanking him. He smiles, “You’re welcome, Bubba. If it still hurts, go with Johnny boy and tell Drayton you want some ice in a bag.”

Bubba nods and turns to his cousin. The younger boy smiles, tags Bubba on the tippy top of his curly head, and takes off running back towards the kitchen to find Drayton, taking the long way around through the front hall. Bubba follows, looking much better already.

Nubbins gives him a little smile, “H-Hey you’re g-good at that.”

Franklin’s going to shrug it off, say it’s just what friends do for friends, but Nubbins isn’t listening anyways. He’s looking at his lips again. With the position of his wheelchair, they can’t reach each other, so Franklin gives a small nod. He can tell Nubbin wants to move him, but he got in big trouble for touching Franklin's chair without permission.

Frankie himself hadn’t minded it, but Sally saw, and Sally might not get a lot of things right about Franklin, but she was angry that someone would drag her brother around like a doll. She’d screamed at Nubbins til her freckled face was red, and Nubbins was near in tears from anger at being talked to that way.

He really broke down when he got home and got in trouble with Drayton for making the neighbors upset. He’d spent his whole time-out sobbing his eyes out, and punching the wall.

It was ugly and Franklin wanted nothing to do with that again. So they have their little silent moments, where Nubbins can just, sort of look and it’ll imply what he wants. Sometimes that’s better than words with them, and better than just doing it without asking.

Would it have been easier to reposition the chair himself? Absolutely. But it sort of felt nice having Nubbins spin the wheels for him and try to get everything perfect. Like he really cared about having Franklin close.

And then once he gets it, he kisses him one more time. This time, he brings up both of his hands to either side of Frankie’s face, and just holds him there. They don’t move much, it’s pretty much just a lock of their lips, occasionally shifting to breathe. It’d be weird and awkward if it was anybody else.

Instead it makes Franklin blush carnation pink and his heart go pitter patter.

That gentle rhythm turns a hell of a lot more panicked in both of them when suddenly there’s a shriek in the room,

“Nubbins got a boyfriend! Nubbins got a boyfriend!!”

Oh. Bobby came back. He saw.

There've been plenty of close calls before, but nothing the two couldn’t pass off. Two years of hiding is a long time and they maybe got careless. And now Bobby’s jumping up and down and singing and it’s just-

Too much.

“Boyfriend!!! Nubbins! Got! A! Boy-“

The kitchen door slams back open. Drayton whacks the wall with a wooden spatula instead of hitting any of the boys,

“That’s enough, boy! You lost your damn mind?”

Now Bobby’s on the defensive. He shakes his head wildly and points, putting all the attention on his brother and Franklin, “Th-They was kiss-kissin’!”

Nubbins and him stare at the ground. Bobby looks confused why they seem so upset. Romance is supposed to be good! They keep mama’s wedding picture on the mantelpiece and she don’t even live here anymore. It’s not bad that Nubbins could be like mama too, not in his eyes. It’s good that he’s got a boyfriend!

Drayton might beg to differ though. It’s hard to tell, with the tense form of his posture. His eyes are narrowed and he’s just, staring for a moment. Assessing if maybe Robert was lying to him. Til he asks gruffly, “That true?”

“Uh…” Franklin can’t speak. He knows what his boy means to him, but he just can’t articulate it, can’t defend himself in the face of someone he’s afraid of.

Nubbins isn’t afraid. He balls up his fists and slams them on the table and shouts, “Yeh! S-So what?”

“Ain’t going to have none of that in my house, is so what.” Drayton says it sort of like a command. Like he expects the two of them to just break up on the spot. Calm because of a smugness, and because he’s so angry underneath.

Oh, but his Nubbins turns bright red in anger, the glaring birthmark on his cheek deepening like the color of blood when it gets under the skin like a bruise. He accuses, “Yer just m-mad cause you got n-nobody t’ kiss! Lefty left you, a-an’ yer all-all alone! Mean old m-man!”

Drayton grits his teeth, sort of like a growl, “Shut up.”

Franklin really needs to ask more about what happened between his uncle and the oldest Sawyer. For now, he’s watching this argument like you’d watch a ball game, back and forth between the angry brothers shouting at each other. His jaws a little slackened in awe.

“Nuh-uh. I-I’m gonna kiss my Fr-Franklin whenever I want!” Nubbins declares, and gets real close to Franklin, nose pressed into his cheek, as if to prove it.

“Don’t you dare-“ Drayton warns, but it’s too late.

Nubbins kisses Franklin's face all over, cartoonishly and childlike, with little “~mwah” noises and everything. It’s sorta sweet in a way. Doesn’t stop Franklin from being mortified.

And it doesn’t stop the oldest from reacting. Drayton marches forward, shoving extra furniture out of his path, to get to Nubbins, pulling him back hard by his bony shoulder.

“Why you little-“

His hand raises up automatically to thwack Nubbins. Nubbins pokes his tongue out, disobeys, but he shrinks down too. He anticipates the painful contact.

Dread settles heavy in the room.

Franklin can’t breathe. They’d talked. This wasn’t supposed to happen anymore. Nubbins wasn’t scared, things were better now, they’d be okay-

Bobby breaks his stunned silence from things going so so wrong, to shriek out, “N-No, Drayton!”

Franklins realizes he has the power to speak too. He’s much closer to everything. Can hear the angry breaths and see the shaking bodies. It scares him, but he tries to be firm too, “Don’t hurt him.”

The image of getting a smack of his own plays in his head and he bows apologetically, “Please.”

Somewhere, that reminds Drayton of his hollow promises. His face even goes a little pale.

Stiff and awkward, he taps his hands on Nubbins’ arms. It looks like it’s supposed to be comforting, and at least Nubbins takes it that way cause he relaxes a little. Drayton eventually, with a little bit of effort now that he’s past forty, crouches down by the chair. It’s not really a hug per se, but he kinda lays his head on Nubbins, and the boy accepts it, curling up to make as much contact as possible.

This isn’t the pretend to get along stuff, or the scream until their throats are raw hatred. They’re trying to love each other. Drayton’s trying to be vulnerable. Nubbins is trying to not fight.

Franklin, for one, is confused though. It doesn’t make sense.

“I thought you was mad?” He asks quietly, eyes fixed to the floor like seeing the Sawyer siblings hug is something to be ashamed of.

“Been through a lot, kid.” Drayton answers automatically, pulling away from the bit of strange affection he was able to show, rising to his feet again.

There’s silence for a long time, while everybody tries to think of what to say.

Drayton paces on the spot a little. Bounces impatiently, his temper with himself now mostly. Wipes his hands on his work pants.

Finally, he speaks, seeing that nobody else is going to, and having something else on his mind he needs to put out, “I’m all they got. Can’t let a simple thing ruin it….. I won’t get on your case. Just.. Just you stay outta his bedroom, you hear?”

Oh god. They’re not- Franklin never- Where did he..?

Franklin just nods, and he’s sure he looks stupid, but he was caught off guard! The implication there is beyond embarrassing, something that never even occurred to him yet. He’s sure his own flushed face is hot enough to rival the sun.

Drayton accepts the nod as the answer it is, more than used to not getting words for answers. And then he lingers sort of awkwardly, extending his hand out for maybe a hand shake with the boy, but then withdrawing it immediately before Franklin can even accept.

There’s something going on in that old man’s head, and Franklin wants nothing to do with it.

It’s only because Nubbins forgives him that he doesn’t hate Draytons guts. Maybe he gets the luxury of being an outsider, or maybe it’s because he’s got both his parents and just one little sister. Whatever it is, something tells Franklin it isn’t his place to decide for the Sawyers.

Either way, doesn’t mean he has to be a fan of Drayton Sawyer.

And maybe he glares a little at the door after the man leaves again, muttering to himself about something indistinct, not the same as the finances rants. More like he’s scolding himself or something.

The twins are over it though. They’re fixed back on their respective friend and partner, both leaning in to ask him something quiet.

It’s Nubbins who does the speaking for the question they both have, “Why a-ain’t you allowed i-in our room?”

God, no. Franklin cannot answer that right now. He’ll die of humiliation trying to explain it to the boys. Shouldn’t they know that already at seventeen?

“Uh.. that’s probably a question for your brother.”

Bobby recoils and scrunches up, acting like he touched something gross, and squeaks, “Ew, we d-don’t wanna talk to h-him!”

Never thought he’d see the day, but he’s actually about to defend their older brother. Not because he likes him, that'd just be a downright lie, but because he knows this’ll be easier if they don’t all fight amongst each other all the damn time. No hitting, no arguing, no name-calling.

That’s probably wishful thinking. Franklin tries to mediate peace anyways, “You heard what he said. He cares ‘bout y’all. Sometimes you gotta talk to him.”

But Robert Sawyer is one stubborn son of a gun. He just shakes his head and flicks his hair dismissively, “That’s d-dumb.”

That offends Nubbins into speaking up, “Fr-Franklin’s not dumb, Bobby!”

There’s a moment where they just stare at each other, before Nubbins strikes. It’s like nobody in the world is allowed to breathe until they solve their problem. Which they choose to do by wrestling it out.

The fight is like watching two lions without teeth trying to kill each other. They just sort of push and hit and pull hair. Bobby bites Nubbins on the arm once. Nubbins shoves a pile of chicken feathers from the next room, that were left from Bubba bringing his favorite hen in the house, into Bobby’s face.

All of it’s mostly harmless. That’s probably why Franklin feels a little flattered, watching his boy defend him that way. If it were anybody other than his own twin brother, he might even do some actual damage.

All for Franklin. ‘Cause he isn’t stupid. Just like Nubbins didn’t deserve to be hit.

He’s glad he stood up for him. And that Nubbins did it right back.

It’s something a little like love that flutters in his chest.

That is, until the spirit of the Holy Ghost gets scared right out of him by more unexpected yelling and banging on the wall.

Drayton crowd, “Y’all aren’t gettin’ nothin’ for supper if you don’t stop yer rough housin’!”

For a moment, the twins are just stuck looking at each other in horror, before they work on untangling and righting themselves, helping each other fix their hair so they don’t look like they’ve just been fighting. It’s too late, their brother already knows, but they hide the evidence anyways.

The thing Franklin finally understands, is that it’s not a lie when Nubbins says he isn’t scared.

It sort of inspires him to wanna feel that way too.

So this time, once the boys are settled back in their seats, he initiates a kiss, right on Nubbins’ cheek. Nubbins sneaks and turns his head quick to make it a real kiss, but just a peck.

Bobby giggles and points at them, “Y’all got.. C-Coooooties!”

Nubbins would’ve probably jumped across the table and tackled him again if the rest of the family didn’t start coming in for supper.

Instead, he’ll hold Franklin’s hand, all throughout, for the rest of the day even if he can help it, and not care even one little bit who’s looking,

#tcmfanevent #nubbins sawyer #franklin hardesty #franknub #chop top sawyer #bobby sawyer #drayton sawyer #bubba sawyer #johnny and sissy appearances #franklin hardesty x nubbins sawyer #the texas chainsaw massacre #tcm 1974 #tcm 2 #tcm fanfic

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quinloki · 2 months

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Nothing particularly awesome happened today, Daylight Savings has messed up my sleep so bad I'm currently functioning on a mere 4 hours sleep. When speaking I can barely put words into a sentence but writing has always been my forte so hopefully this is far more coherent. Yesterday I tweaked my masterlists and organized them proper, so that made me happy.

No one really interacts with my stuff on Wattpad which is fine, because the exact same works are doing GREAT on AO3. My Arlong collection has been viewed over 240 times, has 11 kudos, and has received 2 comments from people. Rabid Devotion has 3 kudos and has been bookmarked once with only 50+ views, Better Mousetrap has 170+ views and 2 kudos, while Slinktober isn't slated to be updated/finished until July and yet it has 55+ views and 3 kudos. It has more kudos than Mousetrap and more views than Rabid. So that's happy stuff. And I do get views and likes here on tumblr, more so than on Wattpad—that's my worst showing despite being my preferred writing platform. Go figure.

Anyway, I thought I'd follow your little OC template you provided in your request post for good stuff while you recuperate from a trying day. As always, I am here to try and provide. Also as always, this runs egregiously long.

Tell me more about an OC? -:- if you've told me about them before: Do you have new art of them? Have you made new lore? Discarded anything/changed something?

I'm going to gloss over the fact that you asked about OCs and just focus on giving you more about Arlong and my self-ship Keiko. I am working on my OCs but I find them to be exhausting because I'm not to a place where I can create originally again, I'm still healing from writing hurt. I'm getting a lot better but the mojo just isn't there yet, so the majority of them have been indefinitely shelved. Especially the two snake-like OCs (Lon Lon & Modeus—though I did add a little more to him than her).

I have no art of Arlong yet, and I have NOT tried drawing Arlong in my cartoon style, though I guess I could now that I think about it. He'll look awful but I headcanon the man has no artistic skill whatsoever, so I could easily pass the drawing off as his handiwork instead of mine. I think it'd be funny if Arlong's drawing skills were on the same level as Luffy. He'd never admit to it because he hates Luffy which is why I think their levels in art should be equal.

Now that I know Arlong is a sawfish and not a sawshark, I have one more thing to goad him with besides being an amphibian and a separate species from the fishwomen. Clearly, I enjoy tormenting the man. This is, in fact, along the same vein of how we met.

I keep changing the official story of how we met until I can find one that makes the most sense. What stays the same each time is that Arlong and his boys are the first fishmen I'd ever seen. I also am functioning on my self-insert as having been semi-isekai'd (that's the trope where you die in your world and end up in another, right?). Except, I didn't exactly die. I like the planeswalking thing of MtG so I just work off of that more or less.

Anywho, I thought I'd share the story of how I met Arlong and how I at the very least piqued his attention enough to not get killed right off the bat. It started not with a hello but with a "can I touch you?"

~~~~~~~~~~~

Just a Touch

"Can I touch you?" I held up my hand to show I genuinely meant touch in a I-want-to-understand-something sort of way and not the I-want-to-touch-for-X-amount-of-berries sort of way. I mostly just pointed to his arm with the stylized fish tattoo to really drive home the point that this was a non-sexual request on my part.

The fishman laughed down at me, literally. "And why would I let a puny human girl touch me, a superior fishman?"

"Curiosity?" I don't know why I'm answering with a question, I am curious. It's not a question but the way in which he responded made me feel oh so small. Puny indeed.

He raised an eyebrow, "curiosity you say? And what is so curious about us, hm? We're not circus freaks put on display for you girl, get lost before I lose my temper and explore a curiosity of my own." The eyebrow fell as he switched from condescension to threatening. He stood straighter to punctuate that he was significantly bigger than me and besides being tall enough to probably step on me, he certainly could bite my head off.

I don't know why, but the whole exchange hurt. My hands fell to my sides, my shoulders sagged, and I had to bite my lip to keep the tears that were welling up from falling down. I hate crying in front of others and I sure as hell wasn't going to cry in front of this jerk. I lifted my chin to keep my head high, I wasn't going to let him bully me but I needed to heed the threat at the same time.

One tear did manage to slip down my cheek as I glared back at him before turning silently on my heel and briskly walking away. I didn't look back once. If I had, I'd have seen how he tilted his head to the side with an expression caught between anger and confusion.

I don't know what they were doing on the island, I'd gone to great lengths to ensure I didn't run into any of them all day long. Day turned to night and night turned to morning. A new day that I hoped would pass without issue. That turned out to be a futile hope. I had been spying on the beach since dawn broke, to ensure the intruders weren't there before heading down to look for shells or other odds and ends that washed up during the night.

I'd been traipsing through the sand for only about twenty minutes when I shadow fell over me and loomed for several feet beyond mine. Well shit, guess I have company after all.

"You now it's dangerous to keep your back unprotected with fishmen around. I could have killed you multiple times." Judging from the low rumbly voice, it was the same fishman from yesterday. The sharky one.

Keeping my back to him I answered, "I have no doubt since I'm such a lowly and puny little human girl." The word feels like acid on my tongue. Girl, as if I were a mere child and not the adult that I was. Just one more way for others to strip me of my own agency and keep me low in the hierarchy of life. I didn't feel so low before these fishmen showed up and within twenty-four hours I was starting to believe the lies people mutter as I walk by.

I heard him sigh behind me whether in anger or exasperation I couldn't say. Suddenly the shadow got shorter and shorter which did nothing more but make me curious about him all over again. I turn to see why his shadow retreated. The sharkman squatted down, now balancing on his toes and his arms resting on his knees as he undoubtedly scrutinized me. Even squatting down he was taller than me and I was not short by any means. Okay I was, but this is the Grand Line, everyone is taller than they are in the other four seas. In any of the four Blues I am tall but on the Grand Line I'm tiny and this guy was making me feel even tinier.

"I will permit you to touch me just this once." He stared at me head on with an almost passive expression. I have no clue what's going through his head or what his game is, but he seems calm and this is my golden opportunity.

I reach for the arm with the tattoo and hesitate for a few seconds, trying to anticipate if it's a trap or not. Deciding it's not I continue until my fingers touch his arm. First my fingertips because I don't really know what I'm doing or what I expect. He's not really reacting, just watching in silence. Meanwhile my mind is racing, why did he change his mind? Why is he so calm now? Is he going to kill me afterwards?

Despite my panicking thoughts, I continue my quest for my answer to the question only I knew. My fingertips move forward and my fingers are now fully connected with his forearm; my fingers gliding up and down the forearm then side-to-side. I trace along the tattoo as well. I'm sure he must think me insane at this point as this is clearly not normal behavior for anyone, human or otherwise.

He simply continues to stare and doesn't say anything. But I do. I furrow my own brows at the contact and quietly sigh under my breath, "well that's disappointing." I totally forgot whose arm this was. I totally forgot he was literally right there, could hear me, and that just yesterday threatened to kill me publicly. He didn't even try to hide his hostility. Yet here I am, insulting him, to his face, with no witnesses for my murder. Genius Keiko, real smooth. Way to keep your lifespan going.

"What do you mean, disappointing? What were exactly were you expecting little one?" I don't know if this was a step up or down from girl but I'll take it for now because he's not killing me yet. In fact, he still hadn't so much as twitched.

I, maybe carefully, maybe bravely—I no longer know where I fall in terms of adjectives and adverbs—look him in the eyes, his beautiful icy blue eyes (get your head in the game Keiko, you could be mere seconds from being headless and he still wouldn't have to move his arms to do it). "Don't take this the wrong way but you're the disappointment here."

I'm a dead woman. That's it, this is where it ends for me. I may as well just strip out of my mortal coil myself and hand it to him.

He raises a single eyebrow again, and with just a hint of mirth to his voice prolongs my inevitable demise, "how have I disappointed you?"

"Look, I don't know anything about fishmen. This island doesn't have any books on them and until yesterday I'd never seen one before. You're as foreign as foreign can get for me. Based on how the locals were screaming, you must be the shark. Yes?"

He finally smirks and has an expression that is semi-readable. Amusement. I'm amusing him. Well, at least I'm not offending him as that ends in death. Though amusement could also end in death but for now, I'm still breathing and that's a good sign.

"Yes, I'm the shark. Arlong the Saw and I am a sawshark fishman."

"Great, nice to meet you Arlong. Now, as I was saying, and again I mean no offense, but for a shark you're an utter disappointment."

Arlong, as he's apparently called, leans in close to me and it's only now that I see why he's called the Saw. His nose is razor sharp, all he'd have to do is twitch to either side in rapid succession and he could cut my head off. It's like he has a sword growing out of his face, I wonder what a narwhal fishman looks like? I bet they'd resemble a humanoid unicorn with gills. Focus Keiko!

"Could you be more specific, little girl."

That wasn't a question, that was a statement. He definitely took offense. I quickly retract my hand from his arm but he's faster. Arlong catches my wrist with his webbed hand, another feature I hadn't noticed earlier. He continued to stare intently at me as if he were trying to see my very soul. For some reason, I felt almost naked under his eyes.

I tried twisting my hand out of his grasp to no avail so I have no course but to talk my way of the jaws of death. "I truly mean no offense. It's just, your skin. It feels like mine."

Arlong narrows his eyes, "of course it feels like yours, it's skin. I'm a fishman. Humanoid. I have arms and legs as you do, fingers and toes too. Why would I not have skin as you have?"

Maybe he was getting angry or maybe I just really confused him. Might as well own up to my question. I didn't want to ask the question direct in case it was a truly stupid one, but now I either elaborate or I die what may be a very painful death. Though I must admit, if this man is what my death looks like, damn. Way more pleasant than an unknown creature is black robes with a scythe. This guy may be scary but he was also attractive. There could be worse ways to go if I had time to think about them.

"Do fishmen not live in the sea?" Not my question but now I was getting confused at his confusion.

"In a way. We live on an island that's underwater, why?"

"An underwater island? I don't know how to process that. That's beside the point anyway. My point is you have human-like skin but you're supposedly a shark. Shouldn't you feel like a shark instead?"

Arlong finally stopped glaring at me and burst out laughing, while still holding my wrist, though he did loosen the grip a little bit. He certainly wasn't trying to break my hand but he might have bruised it. "You thought I was going to feel like sandpaper?!"

I looked down at the sand, blushing from embarrassment. "Well yeah, because you're a sawshark." Shit, my eyes are watering again. I hate that crying is my body's go-to-reaction for nearly everything. It's partly way I live outside the village, one can only take so much harassment.

Arlong's laughing slowed and he took a few deep breaths to steady himself. "You really haven't encountered a fishman before then. No, sharkmen do not feel like sharks because we aren't sharks. We're more akin to mammals just as humans are. We have skin and hair and our women give birth to live babies just as humans do."

I cannot lift my head, the tears won't stop so I just stare at the sand and listen to what is turning out to be a very educational lecture. Arlong decides to continue when I don't respond, "unlike humans we have webbed fingers and toes as I'm sure you've noticed by now. We have gills on our necks for breathing underwater and lungs for breathing on land. We command the water but even we have to be careful in the Grand Line. She is an unforgiving landscape."

I quietly nod in understanding. He finally lets go of my wrist and tilts my chin up, forcing me to look at him through blurry, watery eyes. "You're very unusual for a human, you didn't fear us when we arrived yesterday. You approached with curiosity and a desire to understand us. No human has done that to me or my crew." Arlong proceeded to wipe my tears away as he finally stood up. "Perhaps we'll have another conversation on another day."

"Does this mean you aren't going to kill me?"

He chuckles, "No little one, I'm not. I only ask for one thing in return for today's lesson."

It's my turn to tilt my head to the side in confusion, "and what's that?"

"Tell me your name."

And just like I did when they first landed here yesterday morning, I smiled. "My name is Keiko."

"I look forward to tomorrow's question, Keiko." Arlong left me on the beach grinning like a smitten schoolgirl. I got my answer to my question, and while it was a truly disappointing answer—I wanted him to feel like sandpaper, I didn't die and I may have made a new friend.

I love Keiko - and I should’ve been more clear, but OC to me kind of covers any flavor of original character - self insert, reader type, OC as commonly referred to, etc.

I’m happy to hear about them all ^_^

I love this story! Her question, the progress of the tale, the interaction. You may make a fan of me yet (for Arlong, I mean, I already love Keiko.)

I’m just about off to bed for the night, so I don’t have much else to say, but thank you so much for sharing this, and please try to get some more rest too! Damn time change is such a pain >.<

#quin answers #thecrimsonacademic #Keiko OC #arlong the saw

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fashion-disaster-tournament · 1 year

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RUI PROPAGANA TIME

I know he’s not gonna win no matter what I say but I don’t really care. I’m doing this for the fun of it just like the akito chip bag paragraph.

Also disclaimer: I don’t really hate Rui’s outfits I’m just feeling kinda silly. I would wear most of his outfits tbh I NEED to either dress like my splatoon themed switch or dress like an antique store shelf covered in cool shiny little objects.

Im only gonna be talking about the outfits in his three star card titled “Runaway Thought Process” from the event “What’s on your mind? Exciting Picnic” because if I do anymore then one card I will go on forever and ever and then the poll will be over.

As you can see, he clearly didn’t have any thought process when coming up with those outfits. I’m gonna start with the untrained version of the card first.

WHY. WHY WOULD ANYONE DO THIS. WHY WOULD ANYONE CHOOSE TO WEAR COLORS THAT LOOK SO DISAPPOINTING AND UNHINGED MATH TEACHER CORE WHEN PUT TOGETHER. I’m shaking and crying while writing this. After I submit this I will be suing him for the damages that he has caused not only to my soul but also to my laptop. Yes, I’m sobbing so hard looking at this that my room is absolutely flooding with tears. All of my possessions are destroyed. Please never let him have the free will to choose his own clothes ever again. Not even tsukasa in the background can save this, his outfit is horrific too. He will never be a star with a stylist who makes him look like whatever that is. I genuinely have no words for Tsukasa’s outfit except for please just never happen again.

As for the trained version of the card, FASHION CRIMINALS DO NOT DESERVE LITTLE HATS.

Also not a fashion crime, but the squirrel sitting on his shoulder looks like Nene. 10/10 squirrel I would pick berries and then leave some for her in a little napkin if squirrels are allowed to have berries. If they aren’t then idk I guess I’d just let her live in my walls or something.

In conclusion I have like 2 missing assignments but here I am writing about why Rui Kamishiro Project Sekai Colorful Stage Featuring Hatsune Miku should never under any circumstances be allowed within my or anyone’s line of sight just because of this. Also I’m submitting this as an ask and not a reblog bc I was gonna make it anonymous but idk if you can add images if you’re anonymous and I don’t want to check bc what if my 20 minutes of work gets deleted please help I have no idea how anything works anymore

1. imagine, i have 15 missing assignments and i decided to run a tournament

2. no you can't send images anonymously, but it doesn't erase your work if you do switch to anonymous

#propaganda

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clethos · 7 months

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day two of @mcyt-yuri-week! prompt is au/post-canon so i went with a classic coffeeshop au except kath is a monster hunting vigilante

fic under cut

Shelby really hates her job sometimes. The just-above-minimum-wage salary isn't quite worth the long hours and the occasional rude customer- but she's got to get by somehow , and they're the only ones who would even consider her after her disastrous stint at the Academy. The one that she's trying not to think about, actually.

So she grits her teeth and smiles wide and she just- keeps going.

Tonight, as usual, isn't too busy- although Evermoore Café is hardly bustling by day either. Its only claim to fame over the Critter City Bakery across the street is that it stays open all night, and even that is a questionable brag considering how few people are up at this time.

But, again- it's the only place that'd take her. And as a college dropout with no social life and a barely-there sleep schedule, it's not like she has anything better to spend her time on, besides obsessively poring over textbooks in the hopes that one day, maybe, the Academy might take her back.

Ha. Like that 'd ever happen. Stratos would freeze over before the Academy would ever deign to let Shelby set foot on campus again.

Okay, that's enough self-pity for the day , she thinks, shaking her head. Wallowing in sadness isn't going to help her situation. And neither will scrolling on her phone, but at least it won't make her feel like shit.

She opens her message app with all the bravery of a cow walking toward the chopping block, and is immediately confronted with dozens of notifications from Joey. Ugh . It's probably something stupid. With Joey it usually is, really-

Someone clears their throat, so unexpectedly and so close to her that she flinches. Her phone slips through her fingers and falls with a thump to the floor.

"Sorry!" Shelby says, quickly picking up her phone and tucking it into her pocket, an embarassed flush rising to her cheeks. "Uh, how can I help you?"

She looks up to see her customer and. Oh. Yeah, she's definitely blushing now.

The woman standing in front of her is tall and muscular, with black lipstick and a long scar across her nose and thick kohl smeared around her eyes. But the smile she offers Shelby is so sweet and genuine it makes her weak at the knees. She feels like she's about to cry.

Jesus, Berry. Get a grip.

"That's alright," the woman says politely. "Can I get- just a black coffee, please?"

"Sure." It's nice to get a break from 'golden caramel honey latte machiatto with two pumps of milk and one of sugar, hold the cream'; her memory's never been great. "That'll be 6.99."

The pretty lady doesn't even blink, just hands over a couple crumpled bills. Shelby turns on the coffee machine and, feeling brave, shoots her a grin. "Can I ask why you've got nothing better to do at-" she peeks at her watch- "1:15 in the morning than buy overpriced coffee?"

"Uh." The woman stutters a little. "I- I don't..."

Shelby, taking pity on her, asks, "Couldn't sleep?"

"Yes! Yes, that's it, that's exactly it. Sleep is for the weak, you know?"

"Sure," Shelby says. The machine beeps; in a few practised motions, she grabs a cup, fills it near to the top, and caps it. She spins it onto the counter with a risky little flourish that would have gotten her in trouble if her supervisor wasn't currently slumped over a table in the back room.

"Can I get a name?" she asks, taking a pen and fiddling with it. This part really isn't necessary right now, but-

Yeah, Shelby does want to know more about this mystery whirlwind of a woman who swept into Evermoore Café in the middle of the night like something right out of a fairytale. Sue her.

"Katherine," the woman says, then immediately claps a hand over her mouth. "I mean- yeah. Katherine. That's me."

Shelby writes Katherine on the cup as neatly as she can. Their fingers brush when she hands her the coffee. And as Katherine takes the cup, wrapping her large, scarred hands around it, Shelby is hit with a sudden desperation- a need to keep her in the café, if only for a moment longer.

"I haven't seen you around before," she offers, a lame attempt at keeping the conversation going.

"Oh, yeah, I'm from out of town. Just stopping by." Shelby's face falls, and Katherine must notice because she hurriedly adds, "I'll be back, though! Really soon, actually, I really like it here, I come to Evermoore every day- I mean, every night, for... reasons."

Shelby quirks an eyebrow, intrigued. "What reasons?"

"And," Katherine continues, tripping over her words with how fast she's talking, "this coffee is- so good. Just so good." She takes a sip, and her face immediately flickers through varying states of despair before settling on a slightly strained grin. "So good that I might come back here. Like, tomorrow night? Are you working here tomorrow?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I am." Shelby did not even know it was possible to feel such an immense joy at such a small thing. She really needs more friends.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," Katherine calls over her shoulder. "Maybe then you could finally tell me your name."

Did she just wink at me?

Shelby watches, dumbstruck, as Katherine waltzes out and the bell on the door jingles and, a few minutes later, a 6.99$ coffee drops into a trash can somewhere.

#mcytyuriweek2023 #katherine elizabeth #shubble #nature wives

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mrpenguinpants · 3 years

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Genshin: Royalty AU [V1]

I’ve been a hermit ever since covid dropped lol. Yes, you’re doing social distancing right. Imagine going outside? Ptff, what a weird concept. But I’m happy you’ve stuck around for so long despite the constant brainworms I have. Oho?? More crumbs 👀 Lemme just crack my knuckles real quick. I’m throwing a reader in just so I have an excuse to tag everyone haha. These are a lot more scuffy compared to my usual HCs but let me brainrot for a sec.

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Genshin: Holding Hands [V1]

Genshin: When you’re cold [V1]

Genshin: University AU [V1]

Genshin: Roomate HCs [V1]

Genshin: Mythos AU - Cat Xiao

[Masterlist]

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[taglist] <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @aethwie @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife @dokidokisama @rokipersonal @minakohasmanyhusbandos @strwbrry-lia @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki @qimiie @onowie @hanniejji @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @sunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @nonniechan @htnicayh @genshins1mpact @morthecreator @aanne2601 @aklxojjk @fulltimeventisimp @legionqueensav @castinluckgamer

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Zhongli

Your first impressions of Zhongli was that he was an egotistical and selfish brat. To be fair, you might have adopted some of those qualities yourself but you were both children at the time. Your sister, Guizhong, was tasked to take care of Zhongli in place of his parents which lead to your first meeting with the infamous Imperial Prince. At first, you were excited to finally meet someone who was the same age as you and Guizhong was always so kind. But when he turned to face you two, he just asked if Guizhong was supposed to be his concubine. You weren’t sure whether to gag or throw your shoe at him but Guizhong quickly intercepted before you could do anything that could get you killed. It’s only until you spent more time with him that Zhongli tells you that he has never had someone care for him or want to spend time with him without some alterative motive.

Zhongli radiates sheltered child from birth. To outsiders, he seems really slow on normal everyday tasks but that’s because he’s never had to worry about doing mundane things. He’s always had someone else to do them for him that when he’s out in public, he just stands around and waits for someone to help him. It’s incredibly awkward for everyone in the situation when Zhongli forgets to bring mora and just stands off to the side until one of his servants comes to pick up his check. That’s how Zhongli got such a bad reputation of being a spoiled brat despite being a well-mannered and polite man. When he drops something he just turns to look at you, back at the object, then back at you. You have to pound it into your brain that no, Zhongli is not a lazy and he isn’t trying to be insulting, that’s just how he’s lived his life. When you tell him he is fully capable to picking things up, because what if he dropped something important when he was older and the wind swept it away, he pounders the thought as if you’ve just explained the meaning of the celestials to him that you give up and just pick it up for him.

A Prince from Mondstadt named Venti used to come to Liyue for playdates while their father’s talked business and politics. He was the complete opposite of Zhongli but you genuinely liked him. While he was a bit more bolder and hyper compared to the calm and quiet Zhongli, he would always try and get Zhongli out of the palace and outside. You end up missing so many fun and interesting things when you’re locked up in your study room. How can the next Emperor care about his land when he doesn’t even know what it’s like to live there? It was the first time you and Zhongli went out just for fun and you might have gone a bit overboard in hindsight, but Venti’s personality and the feeling of freedom to do anything was addicting. Plus, watching Zhongli’s reactions to all these new feelings made him feel a bit more human. While you knew that Zhongli would do everything for Liyue, you never got the impression that his heart was in it.

From then on, you and Zhongli try and carve some time out of his schedule to go down to the streets and have a little bit of a break. When you both built kites and scaled all the way to the mountains to fly them, it was the first time you’ve seen Zhongli be bad at something. He always had such elegance and perfection whenever his teachers asked him to do something but as soon as the kite took flight, it would stumble then come crashing down. Zhongli had the most heartbroken puppy expression on his face that you couldn’t help but burst out laughing. While you’re on the ground gasping for air and probably have the most ridiculous expression on your face, Zhongli smiles gently as he looks at you then back to Liyue. The moment is ruined when Guizhong comes running towards you both and scolds you for sneaking out.

While it’s somewhat annoying when other attendants in palace gush about how well Zhongli is growing into becoming the next emperor, both in smarts and appearance, you have to somewhat agree with them in some places. If you want to know the history of Liyue or how to properly place a tea set, he can tell you in incredible detail. However, when it comes to social cues and interactions, he’s awful at them. Everything is treated a business deal that it makes everyone somewhat nervous or uncomfortable that you’re internally dying at any social event he goes to. But despite the awkwardness, he has a lot of admires that frequently send him letters of marriage or adoration that you have to shift through. It makes you a bit uncomfortable reading the flowery language but it surprised you a bit how many people have the misconception that Zhongli planning to have you as his spouse. When you mention this to Zhongli as a joke, he returns to his thinking pose and he contemplates the idea before nodding and agreeing with the letters. He proposes to you right then and there and it’s such a sudden development that your brain has finally broke and you pass out.

Venti

Venti is one of those royalty types that spends so much time outside and away from his duties that he’s basically thrown his cape and crown to the wind. The first time Zhongli visited Monstadt, his first impressions of Venti were him singing to a crowd. While Zhongli doesn’t understand why Venti would spend his time on music rather than his studies, they still get along well. Mostly because Venti has a very easy going personality, even if he’s a bit blunt, but whatever comments he makes fly over Zhongli’s head. Unlike him, you’re the complete opposite. You’re a knight in training with an earnest heart that wants to protect the City of Mondstadt with your entire being. While you don’t necessarily hate Venti, because he never asked to be born into the royal family, you can’t help but get frustrated at his nonchalant attitude towards everything aside from alcohol and music.

Your first meeting with him was during your time training under the Favonius Knights. You wanted to get a bit more practice late in the night when Venti stumbled upon you bullying a poor wooden dummy before he announces his arrival. He laughs a bit at your fumbling as you quickly get into a proper kneel but he waves it off saying it was unnecessary before he asks what you’re up to. You’re in mid-explanation when Venti cuts you off with a yawn and you can feel the irritation creeping up on you as you snap back why he’s outside instead of inside the safe walls of the castle. Your irritation grows even further when Venti smugly grins, patting himself on the back from getting a rise out of you, before he reaches into the bag you just noticed he was carrying to produce sheets of music.

While his teacher’s drone on and on about the production of wine, he is busy writing songs in his textbooks. While he understands the importance of his role, he thinks the people can rule themselves just fine without his help. He wants to leave his crown and become a bard and live an ordinary but free life. How he’s always sneaking out to go explore without the world constantly breathing down his neck. Whether his posture is correct or if he’s memorized the history of berries wouldn’t matter. Honestly, Venti is weighing his options of either staying as a royal or leaving everything behind to pursue the life he wants. When he finishes his heart-felt speech he expects you to give him those same pitiful and woe is you eyes but you’re just angry. You can understand his sentiment, living a life that you never asked for isn’t fun, but suddenly packing your things and jumping ship would only cause chaos and conflict. At least have some sort of replacement before you leave damnit.

Now it’s your turn to be surprised, rather than taking offense to you, a nameless knight, basically insulting the him, the Prince, he lights up in excitement. He rips his cape and crown off before he’s shoving them onto you before you can even say anything. He’s almost bouncing on his feet as he tells you that you can freely take his crown and become the next in line. You have no idea how that would work but he mentions that he knows a man named Albedo that can help change your appearance to look like him. That way, you get to protect the City you love so much and he get’s to live the life he’s always wanted. It’s completely fool proof with no flaws whatsoever! Except for the fact, that he is jumping way too far to conclusions, he’s shoving his responsibilities onto you, and most importantly, you don’t the first thing about Venti and how to act like him.

Before you know it, Venti has dragged you to meet his Father to personally appoint you as his personal knight. He doesn’t take no for an answer even though you aren’t qualified at all to be protecting someone of high position as him but Venti’s always been a handful that someone needs to watch over him. You have no idea how one night managed to throw your entire life into this chaos but you’re not sure if you can even get out of this situation at this point.

Kaeya

It all happened so suddenly. You and him were playing in the gardens when his father rushed in and took both of your hands and dragged you to the border to Khaenri’ah. The land you were both used to seeing, the friendly baker that would always give you both sweets, or the magic that used to flow so freely was transformed into red cubes. You were both scared and confused but as you both reached the border oh Khaenri’ah, a large gate that leads to the above world of Teyvat, his father tells you both to run as far as you could and never look back before he pushed you both in. It wasn’t until years later that you both discovered that a corrupted god had taken control of Khaenri’ah. Now, everyone believes that the Khaenri’ah prince is dead because he’s been missing for so long and whatever hope Khaenri’ah has is gone. For his own safety, he had to change his name to Kaeya and you both found yourself at the gates of Mondstadt.

It took a lot of adjusting for the both of you but Kaeya especially. Your mother had dropped you into the care of Kaeya’s family for a short while before everything went downhill. She was a bit on the neglectful side but she was still your mother and you knew she was alive. On the other hand, Kaeya lost his entire family and nation in a single moment. Whatever pure happiness and bright personality he used to have quickly regressed until he was a shy and quiet kid. You know he blames himself for what happened even if there wasn’t anything he could have done but he’s grown a fear of outsiders so he tends to avoid other children his age. Instead finding comfort in playing with the funny looking abyss mages and slimes that are on the outskirt of Mondstadt. While he doesn’t seem bothered by the weird comments other people make of him, you know deep down he does get hurt, that it makes you so mad that you end up lashing out.

You end up getting into a few fights as Kaeya patches you up. He scolds you and says that he doesn’t need you to go so far for him is when you make him a promise that you’ll protect him with everything you have. It’s the first moment since everything happened that he seems to gain back that life in his eyes. He blinks at you before he chuckles sheepishly and comments that you can’t even tie your shoes correctly do you stumble a bit. You’re a bit embarrassed at your sudden proclamation but stand determined about it. You both end up making a pinky promise to stay by each other’s side until the very end.

When you’re both older and in the position of Captain and Teacher in the Favonius Knights is when he seems to be a bit more open. You both end up gaining a reputation of the laid-back Calvary Captain that bother’s the strict but kind Teacher. He’s always waltzing in the middle of you class to tease you before you end up throwing something at him to get him to stop embarrassing you in front of new recruits. You end up getting back at him with your woe is me acting and push all your paper work on him. Since he loves spending so much time in your class, he should know how to do all your paper work right?. Despite all of this, if anyone needs to find Kaeya or you, you’re basically a packaged deal. Always attached to the hip.

Kaeya knows deep down, at some point he’s going to have to go back to Khaenri’ah and save his people but he’s conflicted. While he knows it’s selfish that he get’s to live a life of freedom, he wants to be selfish. Not just for him but for you as well. You’ve both basically lost everything and now that things are okay, he doesn’t want to give that up. While you both promised to stay together until the end, you’re the only person he has left and he doesn’t want to rope you into his mess or have you worry about him. He’s heard of the blond traveler in black and blue that is searching for the lost prince of an unnamed kingdom, knows that the peaceful life he has right now will come to an end, but he pushes it aside. Besides, there are more important things to attend to. Today might be the day he tells your students about how you fell into a lake because you got scared by a frog.

Jean

Jean is incredibly dedicated to her role and to her people because she’s genuinely a good person and wants to see people happy. Especially her sister Barbara. She’s a bit awkward and clumsy in her execution but she has a lot of heart. Being her personal knight, you know just how hard she works and you admire her greatly for her ideals and nature. She has such a professional and gentle façe when she’s out in public but as soon as she’s behind closed doors, she’s collapsing into your arms as the world lifts for a short while. You chuckle a bit amused at how different she appears to the outside world, how the ever prime and proper Princess wakes up with a rat’s nest, how her favourite food is pizza, or how she throws these 7 inch heels out the window as soon as a ball is over.

Due to Jean’s kind-hearted nature, when it comes to more pushy people she can’t seem to say no to. Travelers or citizens that think they can take advantage of the Princess is what makes your blood boil. While she isn’t stupid and knows that people are taking advantage of her, she wants to extend any help she can. Not for her public image but because that’s how she is. While it warms your heart that people like her exist, as her knight you can only let so many things slide. When some shady peddler tries to lead Jean somewhere, you’re already stepping in and smilingly sweetly as you grip the peddler’s hand in a death grip and not so subtlety say that he better have a good excuse for why he wants to drag the Princess away or there might be a problem.

When Jean is overworking herself and nearing her breaking point is when you step in. You may be her knight but you’re also her friend and you know when it’s time to stop her destructive habits. She might complain and reassure you that she’s fine but you don’t accept that. If she was “fine” her temperature wouldn’t be the same level as a pyro slime and she wouldn’t have such dark circles under her eyes. It’s a simple bend and lift to carry her in your arms that she ends up stuttering before going pink and let’s you carry her to her room. While she’s screaming into her hands, you’re preparing medicine and everything she’ll need to make a full recovery.

The hardest times for Jean is when her Father constantly pesters her to find a husband. Jean is an independent person and while yes, while being a workaholic isn’t against help, but she doesn’t believe she needs a husband just to make her entitled to rule her kingdom. Besides, Jean is secretly a hopeless romantic. You’re very tight lipped about secretly finding her love story books hidden under her bed unless you want to see her self-combust. You try your best to comfort her but there’s not a lot you can do for her situation other than offer words of reassurance and try and get her mind off things. While you’re patting her on the back she’s looking at you as if you’re the most oblivious person in the world.

Albedo

Albedo is a renowned alchemist that helps royal families with their problems with the use of his intelligence and abilities in alchemy. Something that only a few people can do throughout Teyvat, you being one of them as well. At first, you had admired Albedo and his abilities and saw him as a bit of a role model for young alchemist. Until you actually met him in person. He’s pretty much an emotionless void of a person that he comes off as extremely unempathetic when he listens to the woes of royals. While you sort of agree, the problems that royal’s commission you for are completely ridiculous and selfish, he doesn’t have a moral compass and if he can benefit from it. He’ll do it, no matter how questionable it may seem.

Maybe it’s because you have a little sister figure in your life to stir your moral compass but it still get’s you irritated. It’s always a joy to see Klee when you come back home from your travels that whatever bad mood you were in suddenly washes away. But when you knock on Alice’s door only to have it open to reveal Albedo holding Klee in his arms does your world come crashing down. Klee is completely ignorant to your internal screams as she scrabbles out of Albedo’s hands to give you a hug and take your hand in hers as she leads you inside. You can almost feel the inner workings of Albedo’s mind as he stares at you blankly as Klee shows you the new art she drew.

You both don’t mention or talk about it even when you happen to cross each other’s paths outside or you both end up seeing each other at Alice’s home. It’s a bit funny to you, to the outside world Albedo seems so aloof and untouchable, and yet you’re here watching him get tired from chasing Klee around and trying to stop her destroying her home with her bombs. It almost makes you smug when Klee listens to you better than Albedo, it might seem a bit petty and small but you don’t care. He ends up getting back at you when he ends up one-upping you in front of the royal court. He does a quick scan of the room before his eyes land on you and he shoots you a small smug smile before his face returns to it’s neutral expression. You’re clapping along with everyone with the most strained smile you can muster.

You manage to find out from Klee that Albedo enjoys drawing that the next time you see him, you ask if you could see him draw something or if he had sketches on hand. You’re fascinated by his drawings, more so than his actual research discoveries, as you look at the tiny details he’s managed to capture. Outside of Klee, no one’s really been interested in his drawings that he can’t help but feel a little flustered when you’re gushing about his work. It’s different from people praising his alchemist efforts, you’re not someone whose staring at him like he’s on a pedestal when you say you like his drawings, and it feels genuine. He offers a small smile and says that if you’d like, he’d love to show you some more sketches.

You’ve never noticed it until other people bring it up but Albedo seems close to you. Usually once he’s done his business he leaves but if you happen to be around, he sticks around a bit longer just to speak with you. How he seems comfortable to relax in your presence and even leans in closer. How he complies with your requests without any benefit to him. You’re not sure what type of relationship you hold with Albedo. You don’t think you’re friends but you’re definitely closer than acquaintance. If taking care of a a hyper active walking bomb doesn’t bring two people closer than you don’t know what does. But at the end of the day, you find you don’t really care. Not everything needs to be labelled and categorized like things are in alchemy. People don’t seem to understand but you always duck out and escape before you’re questioned further about your personal life. Unbeknownst to you, Albedo is watching you go as he ponders your words.

Childe

Childe is such a clown. He’s an assassin that doesn’t know the first thing about being subtle and is just in it for the fighting. He’s really just an incredibly egotistical bastard that likes being friendly with his targets, just to see their shocked expressions when it’s him that comes to take their life. He’s actually a pretty down to earth guy. While other assassins in the Fatui either have tragic backstories or some sad pitiful tale, Childe just laughs at them. His family is still alive and he’s never had any true hardships in his life. He’s pretty disliked for this reason but he’s a skilled enough fighter that it somewhat makes up for it.

Just when Childe’s life is at its peak, is when he slips and falls into the abyss. For the first time, he had to face against a threat and in a situation he has no control over which is completely foreign to him. He barely manages to survive until he’s saved by an unknown figure that goes by the name Skirk. While he’s grateful he’s still alive, facing his mortality for the first time gives him a lot to reflect about. Thus he makes the impulse decision to train under Skirk and grow stronger until he’s able to climb out of the abyss. That’s when he meets you who was travelling with Skirk for the same reasons. Your first interactions with this unknown teen is him challenging you to a fight, just for you to throw him over your shoulder as if he weighed nothing. You expected him to get angry or cry but instead he’s standing right back up and grinning like a psychopath as he asks for another fight. You’re looking at Skirk with the most, are we seriously bringing this child with us? look.

From then on, it’s been the three of you travelling through the floors of the abyss. Skirk tells you the stories of this place, how it used to be a great nation before corruption cause the citizens to be morphed and transformed into monsters. You and Childe learn how to fight alongside Skirk against these monsters until it ends up becoming a competition between you and Childe on who can kill the most monsters. Skirk is a bit worried that when you both are back into the outside world, if he should be worried about how morbid you both might appear. But while you’re both yelling at each other who actually landed the last kill on the regisvine while the hilichurls are cowering in a corner does he just accept that things aren’t going to change. The world will just have to accept it. If you both actually teamed up, and you have before, he thinks you both would be unstoppable but you’re both too stubborn.

Despite your rivalry, Childe still has his big brother instincts that whenever you get hurt he’s huffing over you like a mother hen as he scolds you for being so reckless. You’re ignoring the fact that he’s bleeding out while you have minor cuts because you don’t want a crybaby Childe on your hands. Even the harsh conditions of the Abyss, you both find ways to entertain yourself. Childe always challenges you to a fight every second of the day and he always ends up with a sore back when you knock him off his feet. And he always makes the joke that you’re sweeping him off his feet which ends up with him screaming bloody murder as you charge at him. It doesn’t help when he’s still yelling comments behind his shoulder that you might get mistaken for a gorilla when you’re both outside that Skirk has gotten so used to this that he simply ignores the attempted murder going on behind him.

When you’re both strong enough to climb to the gate of the Abyss, Skirk feels almost like a proud parent. Giving you a head pat and a hard slap to the back for Childe does Skirk wave you both off. You’re trying to mask your tears as Childe grins and promises to see you on the other side, that you’ll definitely meet up in the future no matter what. But when he finally returns to the Fatui, works his way back up to being an assassin, he almost thinks Skirk is laughing at him when he realizes that his first target is you. Not that he’s bothered by it, he'll be happy to see you again and see if he can finally beat you.

Baizhu

Baizhu is the most suspicious doctor in the history of all doctors. Some citizens aren’t even sure if he’s a qualified doctor but alas, he’s very good at his job and is a lot more tolerable compared to the Alchemist Albedo so that’s how he’s been able to keep his job. He works under the Liyue emperor so even if citizens had issues with him, it’s not like they could do anything in the first place. People aren’t sure whether he’s joking or being honest when he explains what he’s been privately working on behind the scenes. From experiments to rituals, they are taken aback but Baizhu just smiles and says he’s just kidding. Being his assistant, you have to constantly reassure others that Baizhu is a bit of a sadist and likes to get a rise out of people. Besides, why would a doctor be so interested in those type of things? It’s incredibly unnerving but no one questions it. They won’t know what to do in the first place if their suspicious are correct.

While Baizhu knows how to do his job, he’s always sending you to do the dirty work. From getting medicinal plants up on the very top of mountains or bringing cranky old men their prescriptions, whenever you’re done one task he’s got three more for you. He could at the very least take the trash out while he’s busy doing nothing. At least the job has a few perks. You’ve always had numerous health issues and while Baizhu’s reputation is a bit on thin ice, you wouldn’t trust anyone else to look you over. He’s a bit weird about it, you’re pretty sure Baizhu will never love another person emotionally but when it comes to the science behind a human body, he’s absolutely smitten. He tries to reassure you that he does care for the wellbeing of Liyue but you wave it off at him trying to butter you up before he asks something ridiculous of you.

You and his snake, Changsheng, do not like each other. You think she’s an annoying and bratty snake that Baizhu needs to throw into a jar to shut up while she thinks you’re a complete nuisance and doesn’t understand why Baizhu keeps you around. Baizhu has tried to get you both to reconcile but it always devolves into a petty argument of back-handed insults until Baizhu has enough and tells you both to quiet down. To be truthful, both of your hatred towards each other stems from two completely different reasons rather than disliking each other’s personality, but you can never bring it up to Baizhu. It’s not a conversation anyone wants to have.

If he has one positive, it’s his adopted daughter Qiqi who is just an absolute sweetheart. She’s shy and prefers to follow after Baizhu and you like a lost duckling. While Baizhu might be the worst boss in this history of all bosses, it makes you grin smugly internally when Qiqi chooses to stay cuddled in your arms instead of his. Qiqi is 95% the reason why you stay in this job, not that Baizhu would ever let you leave, because you’ve genuinely grown fond of someone for the first time the same way she has for you. You bring her along whenever you need to give prescriptions to citizens just so she isn’t stuck in within the same four walls and the locals love her. From her forgetful nature or how she shy’s behind your legs whenever someone new approach's you both. It’s so cute that people tend to ignore the floating rumours that Baizhu is reanimating his previously deceased family.

---

I have no idea if I’m just uncultured or if “Always and Forever” Au’s are a thing. I hope you all like this 👉👈 it’s kind of messy and all over the place and I lowkey don’t know if I like my brainrot (there’s a lot of issues ik). I kinda want to do a part 2 where I include other characters but let me know if that’s something interesting? Oh and feel free to add to this, I’d love to hear your ideas.

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fbfh · 3 years

Text

light up the dark [VI] - leo x reader

genre: mid adventure domestic fluff overture, romance, smutty lemony bit towards the end

word count: 3k

pairing: Leo x gothy!child of eros!fem reader

requested: very much so, yes

warnings: magic manipulation powers, feelings are hard and weird and scary, some innuendos, the phrase hot gusher out of context, the word dirty talk, trying to "proposition [someone] in front of two for one cookie crisp", brief credit card theft, jason thinks ketchup is spicy and gets clowned on for it, one use of the word lube in reference to mechanical lubricant, shirtless leo remember that one piece of shirtless leo viria art?????? remember the caption?????, your facade is beginning to crack, deadpan joke about being dead in space, making out, whole lotta sexual tension, brief mention of a boner, teeny tiny bit of grinding, getting interrupted, c*lypso

summary: after an extensive shopping trip, you, Leo, and Jason settle into your airbnb and wait for the others to arrive. Jason takes a nap, and Leo helps you dye your hair. You return the favor by helping him make dinner which leads to two things; a well timed boner, and a poorly timed visitor.

listen to: power and control - marina, 100 bad days - ajr, all I ask - adele

a/n: let's play spot the zack and cody reference within the first paragraph

also surprise the series isn't dead!! a shock to all but mostly me!!

as with all smexy smutty nsfw content, all characters are aged up to 18+

Standing in front of a wall of hair dye taller than you are should have been exciting. It would have been, except for the fact that all the colors were various shades of honey mist auburn. You really don’t want to have to make a separate trip to a beauty store for hair dye. Your eyes land on a firetruck red box, and gratefully, you realize you won’t have to.

“Perfect,” you muse, throwing it into your cart, along with the other stuff on the list you’d divided between you. You grab a few other things from the beauty section while you’re there; some makeup, eyeliner, a glass nail file, and a tiny pair of oil slick cuticle scissors.

Nearby is a guy a little older than you in a varsity hoodie and sweatpants squinting at a two in one shampoo label.

Perfect, you think, beginning to approach. You work your magic - literally - and within a few minutes you have his credit card. It takes way less time than it used to. You also didn’t have to smile and flirt nearly as much as you used to. You’re relieved that you don’t have to fake enthusiasm around rich douchebags the way you used to, and a new inky drop of fear begins to stain the corners of your mind. You can’t even bear to admit it to yourself, but you’re kind of scared. Before you can begin to question if you know what love is and if you’re capable of experiencing it without the influence of your divine heritage, you shove it all away. Not the place, not the time. You speed up a little, passing an endcap of candy, and knock a box into your cart.

On the other side of the store, Jason checks off items from their half of the list as Leo tosses items in the cart, talking along the way. Of course, you came up in conversation rather quickly.

“She’s… a real piece of work.” Jason says, treading lightly.

“You said it, man,” Leo agrees, sliding a pack of coke onto the bottom of the cart. Jason thinks for a moment before continuing.

“She seems to,” he tries to figure out how to phrase their dynamic, “not hate you as much as everyone else.” Leo laughs at the accuracy of the statement. He can tell Jason has something else to say, so he’s quiet while putting paper plates and napkins into the cart.

“Hey, Leo?”

“Yeah?”

“Just… don’t let her hurt you, okay?”

He stops for a second. He’s so lucky to have a friend like Jason, one that will genuinely look out for him, but sometimes people caring for him still catches him off guard. Really off guard. With no idea how to begin to verbalize that complicated mess, he takes a split second to collect himself.

“Thanks, man.”

His smile is sincere.

Don’t let her hurt you. Can he just do that? Not let someone hurt him? Especially someone like you. He’s only had a few long term crushes before, all just out of reach and only getting further away. Only one had amounted to something - not that he could call what he had with Calypso ‘something’. She certainly wouldn’t. He looks around, trying to shake off the sting. He starts to get that unsettled, itchy feeling when he focuses on stuff like that for too long.

‘At least I got some good stories out of it,’ he thinks, messing with the back of his hair and fixing his hoodie strings.

“Here.”

He turns around, coming face to face with you, holding out a box very close to him.

“Hot gusher.” You say softly. What? His cheeks heat up, pulse speeding up suddenly. He glances at Jason, who’s at the other end of the aisle asking an employee something. Are you implying something? Are you trying to proposition him in front of two for one cookie crisp? He’s unable to look away from your gaze, intense and striking. You couldn’t possibly mean what he thinks you mean. Your fingers brush and he’s struggling to find an elegant way to say ‘hey, maybe the grocery store isn’t an ideal place for dirty talk’.

“W- uh, sorry, what?” he says, laughing in an equally hushed tone, needing to make sure you meant what he thought you did. You glance down, then back up.

“They’re spicy gushers. I thought you’d like them.” the feeling is gone in a split second, the same time it took to arrive, and is replaced with relief. He looks down at the box, realizing he’d taken it from you at some point. He laughs at the ridiculousness of his previous panic.

“Thanks,” he says, a reflective smile on his face.

You realize how comforted you are to see him smile, really smile, when you catch yourself having to keep a neutral face. One of the first times your resting bitch face has been intentional. Before you can say you’re welcome, Jason comes back over. You hand him the card.

“Pin number’s 0401.”

They both stare at you, skimming the label of a granola bar, completely unperturbed.

“How…”

“Credit card theft.”

The logical part of Leo’s brain starts to speak up, telling him to raise his guard, that his stomach should be twisting. If you can just take someone’s credit card without a hint of remorse, who knows what the hell kind of damage you could do to him if he got closer to you? And he really wants to get closer to you.

“Oh,” you pull a small pop top tube out of your cart and hand it to Leo, “this is for you too. You know, since you don’t like coffee,” you trail off as he reads the label. Caffeine and electrolyte drink tablets, red berry rampage flavor. He looks up at you, feeling warm and… something else, something ineffable, at the gesture.

You stare at each other, eyes locked, surprised at the strangely intimate feeling stirring in both of you.

“What are those?” Jason asks, snapping you out of whatever that was.

“Spicy gushers,” Leo says, smiling again, “I didn’t even know they made those.”

“Hot mango,” Jason reads from the side of the box, “that actually sounds pretty good.”

“No way dude, you can’t handle spicy food.” He starts to protest, and Leo continues, “You think ketchup is spicy!” He looks shocked.

“Okay, that was one time! It was a weird brand and there was way too much pepper in it!”

You bite back a giggle at their bickering, taking note of how much better Leo seems to be doing and finding surprising comfort in their banter.

It doesn’t take long to get to the airbnb and get set up. You all dump your bags in your rooms, bring in the groceries, and shove everything into the cabinets in a reasonably organized manner.

Jason heads upstairs to unpack and call Piper, announcing a few minutes later that they should be here in less than two hours.

“Perfect,” you pull out your hair dye from the last bag. It’s not exactly the manic panic wildfire red you’d initially wanted, but it’s definitely better than nothing. You stare at the box for a second, then up at Leo who’s trying to get one more bag of chips to fit in with the others.

“Hey,” you say, just loud enough to get his attention, “do you… can you get the back of my head?” He looks at you, questioning, and you hold up the box dye. He smiles, once again noting your softened edges around him.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and minutes later you’re in the bathroom, adorned in a big tee shirt covered in all your previous hair colors. He’s staring at your shirt, eyes dancing over the swirls and splatters of color. It reminds him of a painting he’d seen once, unable to remember the name.

You shake the bottle, skimming the instructions again, then start speaking to him, eyes still on the box.

“Take a section of hair, about this much,” you demonstrate, holding out a section of hair, “rub in the dye like this…”

You hand him the second bottle of red dye, and he starts on the back. His fingertips start separating out a section of your hair, and you still, a shiver running up your spine. He hesitates for a moment, then continues, and you hope he hadn’t noticed. His breath fans your ear, and you can feel the heat radiating off his chest. Your lungs are shallow suddenly, squeezed tight like a bouquet clutched in a shaking hand. You find it almost impossible to focus on dying the front half of your hair.

You don’t want it to stop, you realize. His fingertips dancing along your hair, the glimpses of his incredibly focused face in the bathroom mirror, the way he’ll gently turn your head to make sure he didn’t miss a spot.

“Shit,” he leans back, hunching forward. You look behind you, eyes landing immediately on the spot of red dye on his shirt.

“Shit,” you echo. He looks back at you, waiting to see how he’ll react.

“Oh, it’s all good - no worries. I already have a ton of motor oil and lube - lubricant… machine grade, petroleum based engine lubricant-” he laughs, “stains on this shirt anyway. Don’t sweat it.”

You almost laugh. A giggle bubbles up from your chest and stomach, but catches in your throat. Before it can come out, he slips off his dye stained gloves, and tugs off his dye stained shirt from the back. It seems to happen in slow motion. In a mere moment, your eyes engraving every detail, every line and curve and freckle to memory.

There’s really no delicate way to put it; he’s fucking jacked. Deceptively so. You’re frozen in place, cheeks flushed. You suddenly wonder what it would be like to be wrapped up in his arms, held so close to him.

You snap yourself out of the thought, all of that occurring in just a few seconds. He leans past you, setting the dye stained shirt carefully on the counter, glancing at you intensely.

“Are you checking me out?”

You make yourself roll your eyes and turn away, replying, “I’m sure you’d love that.”

Angled away from him, you momentarily reprimand yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and mouthing oh my god. You turn back to him, not recalling the last time you had to deliberately keep up your aloof front around someone like this.

“So, are we finishing my hair or just gonna leave it like this?” you ask rhetorically, motioning to your half done hair.

He watches you do this, confirming his suspicion that you’re really not as cold as you let on. A smile blooms on his face, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything as… cute as that.

“Yeah,” he replies, slipping his gloves back on. The things you do around him seem to mean more now. He notices the way your eyes flutter closed for a moment when he plays with your hair, working in the dye, or the way you still for a split second when he gets a little too close to the side of your face, checking that he didn’t miss a spot.

He doesn’t want this to end either. But eventually, your hair is fully saturated with dye, the timer on your phone counting down slowly. There’s still some dye left. He sits on the closed toilet.

“Your turn. Do me.”

“What?” you laugh.

“Yeah, a little streak - up here.” He leans forward, sectioning off a part of his hair.

“Seriously?” you ask.

“Yeah. Unless you don’t want to match…” he muses. Your eyes get this dreamy look for the briefest second, then you’re turning back to shake the bottle some more.

“I guess… I mean there’s too much dye to throw out, we might as well do something with it.”

It’s his turn, now, to feel the warmth from your body, your hands running through his hair. His eyes want to close, and bask in the feeling, but he refuses to miss out on the view of you so soft, so close to him. It doesn’t last nearly long enough for either of you, and much too soon you’re pulling away and throwing away the gloves and empty bottles.

By the time you finish cleaning up and throw out the garbage, it’s time to rinse your hair. Hanging your head over the tub, you let the water flow over your head until Leo tells you it’s running clear. He does the same, and you point out too late that he only had to rinse the dyed part, not his whole head.

You both laugh as you wrap a towel around your hair, teaching him how to do the same.

“Sweet, I’ve always wondered how to do the spa snail towel thing.”

“The spa snail towel thing?” You try in vain to fight another laugh.

“Yeah, you know… cause it looks like a snail, and they do it at spas…”

“Oh… my gods…” you laugh, exiting the bathroom and heading down the hall, “I”m going to get changed.” you call.

“Am I wrong?” he asks after you, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. He heads to his room to do the same.

A few minutes later, you’re carefully pulling on your top, when he calls through your door.

“Hey, I’m gonna be in the kitchen, come down when you’re ready.”

“...Okay,” you agree.

You check your outfit in the mirror. You can still feel his fingers brushing your neck. Your head tilts at the memory. Snapshots of him pulling off his shirt in slow motion flash in your memory.

You realize how much of an affect the last hour has had on you. Your stomach drops.

You can’t possibly be falling in love. No way. Not a snowball’s chance in hell.

You’re not the falling in love type. At most, you’d hook up with someone a couple times on the rare occasion you thought they were hot, too.

Oh, you decide, that must be what’s happening. I just think he’s hot. I mean, duh. Of course he’s hot. Did you see him in there?

That’s all you have to do; hook up with him once, maybe twice, then you’ll get over it. It’ll make his ex jealous, and they’ll get back together. It will go just like it always has. Then you can move on to whatever the next crisis is.

You take a breath, resolving to follow the plan, exit your room. You throw yours and Leo’s old clothes and towels in the hamper, and head down stairs. He greets you, and pulls you into the kitchen.

“I have something to ask you.” Your brow furrows.

“...Okay.”

He takes your hand in his, the other behind his back.

“Will you…” he looks at you, gaze piercing, “...be my sous-chef.” he finishes, holding out an apron, matching his.

You study him, a hopeful, surprisingly confident look on his face. His hair is still damp. You’re sure yours is, too. You wait a beat, before replying slowly.

“Yes. But I’m not wearing that.”

“That’s fair,” he says, setting the apron on the counter, “I will have to dock your pay for being out of uniform, though.” You let out a puff of air from your nose, biting back a laugh. He pulls out a skillet, bowl, and oil, and begins preheating the pan. You watch him pull out more ingredients, and begin to set things up.

“Right now we’re waiting on that,” he says nodding at the stove. You nod, inspecting a bottle of seasoning he’d pulled out, and settle into a comfortable silence.

He thinks back to the last time you had time like this - playing twenty questions at your apartment. A pit forms in his stomach as he remembers the conversation veering to Calypso, as it always seemed to. He shoves it away. Not this time. He steadies his nerves. “So, you want to play twenty questions?”

You agree, coming closer to him.

“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

Your eyes flick over to the clock. You have a solid hour, hour and a half before the others are supposed to get here. You stare at him, brushing hair out of his face.

“I’d be dead in the endless void of deep space.”

He cracks a smile at how on brand that response was. Your fingertips trail down to his neck, rethen shoulder. The smile doesn’t leave his face, not completely. Your heart beats loudly in anticipation.

“My turn. Do you want to make out?”

His head snaps up, eyes locked with yours, trying to tell if you’re serious or if this is another example of your distinct sense of humor. But he can tell it’s not - there’s something a little too close to the surface in your eyes.

“Yeah. Yes, totally-”

You grab his collar, pulling him in for a kiss, and leaning back against the empty counter.

His lips are soft and warm, moving gracefully with yours. You barely register that the first kiss ends before you dive back in. You angle your head, deepening the kiss. He plants one hand on the counter, the other making its way to the small of your back. You flick your tongue past his lips, and his grip on your waist tightens. You clutch his collar tighter, other hand moving through his hair, still damp at the ends.

You can tell he’s enjoying what you do by the way his mouth quirks up ever so slightly at the corners, and by the way he starts to harden beneath you. You roll your hips into his, and he falters, sighing, breath fanning your lips. Not quite a moan, but you’re getting there.

The front door opens before you can.

Leo pulls away reluctantly, very reluctantly, and turns off the stove.

“That was fast,” he says, panting slightly and still very flushed. They’re not supposed to be here for a while, still.

A tall girl enters the kitchen, dark strawberry blonde hair pulled over her shoulder. She looks between you and Leo with a sour expression on her face.

“Calypso,” Leo says.

"...Hi."

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after-witch · 4 years

Text

Title: Oh Honey Honey ('Oh Sugar Sugar' Part 2) (Yandere L Lawliet x Reader)

Synopsis: The newest regular to frequent your little pastry shop is a little unusual, but his appreciation of your craft is a welcome distraction from the terrifying suspicion that you may have a stalker.

notes: yandere, stalker behavior

You waved cheerfully at a little boy through the glass window of your store, as his grandfather gently urged him along the street; he was maybe 2 or 3, and had practically shrieked in joy when his grandfather bought him the biggest, cutest looking cupcake you'd had in the display that morning.

With the store empty for the moment, you turned back to your daily specialty case and decided to give it a quick cleaning. A regular, the older gentlemen who'd recently revealed that all the treats were actually for an associate, was due to arrive soon, and he typically bought up most of your special case. You leaned over the front counter, grabbed a rag and a bottle of cleaning solution, and gave the glass a quick spritz. You were humming to yourself when you heard the door bells jingling.

You turned, smile ready, expecting the older gentlemen--and almost flinched in surprise. It was not your regular, but someone new. He had lanky dark hair and wore an unassuming, casual outfit consisting of a white shirt and jeans.

You swiftly stepped behind the register. “Can I help you today, sir?”

"Yes, in fact," the man said. "I'm here to give my compliments in person."

Confusion must have registered on your face, for he continued. "I normally have an associate buy my pastries for me. But I wanted to see your shop for myself, so..."

"Oh!"

You hadn't meant to say it out loud, but you couldn't help it; nor could you help the more genuine smile that you gave the man who'd bought hundreds of dollars worth of pastries in such a short time period. Baking was your passion--but it was your business, too, and you couldn't help but truly appreciate people who supported that business. "I'm so glad to finally meet you! Thank you for all your business."

You held out your hand jovially, and the man came forward to accept it with a low, firm and slightly awkward handshake. When he pulled away, he glanced at his hand for a moment, before returning his gaze back to you. You couldn't help but hope he was getting enough sleep.

"I should be thanking you," he said. "For all the pastries, I mean."

At that, you beamed. "Well! Let me show you what's in our special case today..."

You had a stalker. Well, maybe you had a stalker. You weren't quite sure. All you knew for sure was that something was... off, lately. At first, you attributed it to getting less sleep than normal. With your bakery busier than ever, thanks to your new regular and even a nice business contract supply 2 dozen breakfast muffins every morning, you weren't getting as much sleep.

So it would only be normal, you thought, to be a little on edge. A little testy. But less sleep didn't account for the odd, creeping feeling that you were being watched, especially at night. You could have swore you heard strange sounds, too... whirring or clicks. Cameras? You didn't know.

Nor did a lack of sleep account for some things that had gone missing from your apartment. A favorite nightgown you liked to sleep in; a favorite mug. the berry-red one you’d gotten two Christmases ago; even, as you discovered one morning, a lingerie set that you'd tried on once and then been too embarrassed to wear again. Still, it was expensive and the thought that someone had taken it--and why someone would take it--made you feel sick.

To say that you were not your usual chipper self for the rest of the morning was an understatement. You did your best to smile for the customers that came in, but even they must have sensed something was wrong; you even got extra tips from a regular, an elderly woman who tut-tutted you and told you that you should consider taking a weekend off.

The thought was tempting, but you knew that with running a small business came sacrifices--including the inability to just "take off." Still, you thought, you could take a little nap. A short one, 25 minutes, tops. You didn't often temporarily close up shop for breaks, but it was quiet and you weren't likely to get too many sales before the lunch rush, anyway.

As you were about to flip the sign, however, a figure suddenly walked up to the door. You jumped, then internally scolded yourself for being ridiculous--it was just your regular, or "Ahh, Mr. Regular?," as he'd awkwardly suggested you call him when you’d asked for his name. It was odd, but, the man was also downing an exceptional amount of sugar while buying up entire cases worth of your goods on the regular, so it wasn't your place to judge.

You bit your cheek to suppress a sigh of frustration and opened the door, stepping back so he could come in.

"Oh," he said, "are you closing?"

You smiled, or tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace than anything resembling your typical sweet countenance. "No, no, I was just going to close up for a nap... I mean a break." You shook your head. You shouldn't bother customers with talks about naps, it probably made you sound lazy.

He quirked his head slightly, staring at you almost intensely. "Yes..." he said softly, almost murmuring. "I see those circles under your eyes... you haven't been sleeping well."

The personal turn of the conversation made you feel awkward. You looked away, embarrassed. You hated the idea of customers seeing you as anything other than the cheery pastry shop lady, a source of sugar and sweetness and delicious goodies. "Um," you said, "I guess not, I've just been a little, you know--out of it. You know how things go."

You laughed, mirthless and empty, and gestured towards the case. "So, anyway. I actually don't have many special pastries today, I've been a little busy." You mentally slapped yourself for giving excuses, even bland ones, though it wasn't like you were lying.

You'd woken up early so you could head into work and finish off some really nice specialty items you'd baked last night, but rummaging around your drawers for something to wear led you to realize the lingerie was missing, and you'd spent 2 hours drifting between panic and disgust.

But rather than walk towards the case and pick out today's purchases, your regular simply stood in front of you. Head slightly quirked still, eyes expressive--concerned, you thought, he looks concerned about me.

You couldn't deny that a customer worrying about you brought up conflicting emotions; frustration, because you didn't want to mess with your public persona; and a warm mixture of comfort and flattery. Someone liked your pastries enough to care about you.

"Is everything all right?" He said, finally. "Are you feeling sick? Or is something else keeping you up?"

You stared, feeling lost for words. You didn't really know him, and you hadn’t even told your friends about your potential stalker. But the weight of the past few weeks, the build-up of fear and disgust and stress, seemed to push you down until you found yourself sliding into one of your cafe chairs. He followed suit, pulling his knees up until he practically crouched on the seat.

You hesitated. Should you really be telling him any of this? “I… don’t want to bother you with any of my personal problems.”

“It’s not bothering me. I’m curious,” he said, lightly.

You sighed. Here goes, you thought. “I… I have a stalker?” Your hesitancy quickly morphed into an awkward blurting. “I mean, I think I do. I’m not sure. It’s just the past few weeks. I keep hearing these weird noises. And I feel like I’m being watched.” You bit your lip. “And someone took my underpants?”

Actually vocalizing the thought made you realize that it could just all be in your head. I mean, whirring noises? Missing lingerie? Maybe there were ants in the walls and you’d donated the set and forgot about it.

You half expected him to look embarrassed and give an excuse to leave. But instead, he looked thoughtfully at you. “Hmm. Have you called the police?”

It was you who felt embarrassed now. “No…” You shrugged. “I mean, what can they do, anyway? I don’t have any proof.”

He regarded you with a grim nod. “That’s true. They won’t act without evidence.” He gave a little huffy sigh of his own. “Well… if it were up to me, I’d do a stake out. See if anyone comes into your place at night. I could get some equipment, if you want.”

You smiled--subtle and soft, but a genuine smile. At least he didn’t think you were crazy. At least he validated your feelings. And he’d offered to help, even if you would never feel comfortable taking him up on that offer.

“I appreciate it,” you said. “But maybe I’m just being paranoid. I don’t want to drag you into all this…” You sat up straighter and decided to change the subject--you’d had enough worrying about a stalker for one day. “Say, do you want to see the kitchen? I need to finish up a cake I started last night, for the special case. Maybe you can pick out the fruit toppings?”

For a moment, your regular looked shocked. He nodded, slowly. His expression never quite fully recovered its normal neutrality, and he stood up almost cautiously before following your lead into the open kitchen door accessed from behind the counter.

“Sorry for the mess,” you say lightly. “I didn’t have time to start dishes yet.” You gestured towards a countertop where a small cake stuffed with mascarpone and nestled within a layer of marzipan sat. There were little dollops of cream forming a circle on the top of the cake. “I’m going to top it with some fruits, why don’t you pick out which ones you like?” You covered your mouth, suddenly. “I mean--if you want to buy it, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

He cleared his throat and a small smile flickered across his lips. “Of course I’ll buy it. Your cakes are delicious.”

You laughed a little, showing your teeth, and took out some little jars of fresh fruits from a small fridge underneath the counter. As he looked over them, you turned and began tossing a few empty pots, pans and stirrers into the sink so that they could soak. You couldn’t help but hum a little, used to singing while you clean.

“Yes, I’ve decided,” he said suddenly. You turned around and saw him staring right at you.

“Decided?” You asked. Something about the way he was looking at you felt familiar. You thought about whirring.

“On strawberries,” he replied. He slowly held up the bowl of freshly cut, ripe red berries. “For my cake.”

L sat, crouched on the couch, staring at the video he’d taken of today’s events. You confided in him, which was delightful. You’d smiled at him, which was even better. Watching you put the glorious finishing touches on a scrumptious pastry in the kitchen was just... well. Icing on the cake.

He pressed a button on the controller and rewound the video to the moment where you'd laughed, light and airy and perfectly melodious to his ears. Your smile was genuine, then--not the constrained smile you'd given when he'd interrupted your nap plans; nor was it the sometimes plastic smile you wore when you were clearly exhausted with giving endlessly bright customer service.

Your real smile was something to be treasured. Especially, he thought to himself, because it will be a long while before he sees it again. You won’t be smiling much after he kidnaps you--after he acquires you, he corrected himself.

According to his calculations, you won't start feeling more accepting of your situation for at least a few months, but it may be sooner (or later) depending on certain variables. You will be scared first, he knew--scared and maybe angry with him for deceiving you and trapping you. And that wouldn’t be very conducive to the smile and laughter he’d quickly become addicted to taking in.

He lifted up your favorite mug and took a sip of the warm coffee inside, relishing the last bits of your lipstick left on the rim, before rewinding the video to watch you again. Time will heal your wounds--but in the mean time, he will be so very generous and patient with you.

#yandere death note #yandere #yandere l lawliet #death note #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes #can you guess the name of part 3

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jouretnuit-nightandday · 3 years

Note

gen requests!! if it interests you, i would love something with dot being taken care of by the others, or them all letting toni know how she matters /to them/ in their own ways, or something with an unlikely combination of the girls (a dynamic you wish we’d seen more of) stirring shit and being friends!! i know that was a bunch, but i just figured i‘d give you a few and see if any of them resonated. thank u!! <33

Thank you! I loved all of them, but went with Dot being taken care of, cause our girl sure needs it.

-------

As soon as she wakes up, Dot can tell something’s wrong. For one, everyone else is already awake and gone, even Fatin, even Toni, which has never happened, not even once, ever since they got stranded on the island. She opens her eyes, and she’s alone, in the shelter she had them rebuild a few weeks ago. Someone has taken care to drape one of Fatin’s sweaters - the leopard skin one, which is, incidentally, Dot’s favorite - on her chest like a blanket, and the same person - but who? - has also placed one of the pink visors atop Dot’s head, to protect her from the light of the rising sun peeking through the interstices of their roof. She rises up on her elbows, confused, almost alarmed by the silence - but then she looks through the shelter’s opening, and sees that the other girls are all sitting quietly around the campfire, the one they built sixty feet or so away from the shelter after a strong gust of wind almost set fire to the whole camp.

Dot yawns, and gets up, and shuffles out of the shelter, and comes face to face with the strangest thing. A rough plank of wood, on top of which, artistically arranged, she finds one of the bottles they use to keep drinkable water, a few handfuls of red berries in a small cup made out of braided leaves, and five strings of smoked goat meat - big ones, Dot notices, the kind they usually reserve for dinner, when they’re starving after a full day of hard work. And, weirdest of all, there’s a little bouquet of yellow flowers, stuck in an empty can of Diet Coke. Dot briefly wonders if the flowers are edible, but comes to the conclusion that whoever left this for her wanted to add a touch of beauty to... what is this supposed to be, actually? A breakfast tray?

“What in the world is going on,” Dot murmurs to herself, squinting at the rest of the girls, far away, as if she’ll get some answers just from looking at them. Oh well, food is food. She gobbles down the berries, drinks the water, chews on the sticks of meat, and places the plank back next to the shelter, with the flowers untouched, before she walks up to the fire.

The waking-up all alone, she could chalk up to coincidence. The aesthetic breakfast platter, to Shelby or Martha wanting to test out their decoration skills in the wilderness. But Dot can’t help noticing how fucking weird the girls are acting as soon as she joins them, and her suspicion only grows. Rachel keeps offering her water, as if Dot just ran a marathon or something, and is in need of rehydrating. Shelby sits next to her and can’t stop touching her, little pats on her arm, on her back, on her knee. Fatin tells her she looks good this morning - which wouldn’t be weird, except there’s no obnoxious flirty comment, not even a wink, following that statement. Leah asks her about the survival shows she watches, and tries very hard to pretend she’s interested in Dot’s answer, which is kind of endearing, but mostly a bit surreal, because Dot has a very clear memory of Leah explaining in detail how much she hates reality TV shows. Nora and Martha also ask her a million questions, about her favorite sport, her favorite food, her favorite animal, her favorite actor. When Toni offers her a foot massage, Dot can’t handle it anymore.

“Okay, who did what?” she asks, firmly, looking around her with what she hopes is a stern enough expression that the culprits will confess immediately. “What happened while I was sleeping?” Bemused silence meets her, and Dot rolls her eyes. “Come on, you’re all trying way too hard, I know that means one of you fucked up. Spill.”

“No, Dottie, it’s nothing like that,” Shelby says, with a tentative smile. She hesitates, looking at Fatin for help, but it’s Nora who explains, with the sort of calm confidence Dot has grown to expect from her.

“We just wanted to show our appreciation. You always take care of all of us, so we thought we’d try to take care of you, for once.”

“And we felt bad about yesterday,” Martha adds, quickly, honestly. Ah, yes. The day before had been particularly chaotic, and Dot had in fact developed a real bad migraine by midday, from the sheer stress of trying to make everyone behave for five fucking minutes.

“Yeah, we wanted to make it up to you,” Fatin says. She looks at Dot above the rim of her ridiculous sunglasses, half apologetic, half amused. “We realize, now, that we were acting like a bunch of assholes.”

“Some of us more than others,” Rachel says pointedly.

Leah and Toni both avert their eyes, sheepishly, which, well. You have to admire the self-awareness, at the very least.

Dot blinks. “So the food outside the shelter --”

“We made you breakfast, bitch. Hope you liked the flowers.” Fatin smirks, quite obviously proud of herself. “And you’re not lifting a finger today, we got it all planned.”

“We made a chore list,” Toni adds. “Me and Shelby will go get some water before lunch --”

“And they promised not to fuck on the way,” Rachel interjects.

Shelby has a coughing fit, and Dot instinctively slaps her on the back a few times, while Toni glares at Rachel, cheeks darkening, before continuing. “--Nora, Rachel and Leah are on food prep. Fatin and Martha will clean up, take care of the fire, and, like, entertain you if you’re bored while the rest of us are busy.”

“Entertain me, huh?” Dot asks, drily.

Fatin waggles her eyebrows, and Leah gives her a light smack on the arm. “Toni means we’ll play Uno,” Martha explains. “Or any other game. Or we’ll leave you alone if you want to chill by yourself.” She smiles at Dot, open and genuine. “This is your day. You get to do whatever you want.”

“Anything you wanna do, or you want us to do, just ask,” Shelby says.

“I can recite some poetry,” Leah offers.

“Except that,” Toni mumbles.

Leah flips her off, and for a second Dot worries about these two fighting again, like they did the day before, but they’re both smiling at each other, so they must have made up, for Dot’s sake, and that unexpectedly moves her.

“Guys,” Dot says. “You don’t have to do all that.”

“Yeah, we do,” Nora argues. She cocks her head, looking at Dot carefully. “We love you.”

“Come on, let us treat you like fucking royalty for a day,” Rachel says, with a little smile, and then she grows serious. “You saved all of our asses countless times. You saved my life, after the shark. Let us thank you.”

“You deserve it,” Martha adds.

Dot finds that her throat has closed up, embarrassingly. There may even be tears in her eyes. “I’m… Fuck. Hm, thanks,” she murmurs. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, and nobody comments on it, thankfully. Shelby wraps an arm around her waist. Fatin blows her a kiss from across the fire.

“Honestly, you know what would make me happy?” Dot says, voice a bit hoarse from emotion. “Spending the day together. Just having fun, for once. Enjoying the fucking vacation we were supposed to have, you know. I just wanna have a good time with my friends.”

Fatin grins. “I think we can do that.”

Dot closes her eyes, turns her face towards the sky. The sun is high, already, and hot on her skin. But the warmth she feels, spreading from her stomach to her chest, has nothing to do with it.

#Anonymous #the wilds #dot campbell #fic #the unsinkable eight

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curly-bangtan · 4 years

Text

Heatwave Drabble #8: contaminated

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles] <- read first!

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: We’re always gonna be contaminated.

Genre: drabble, angst, fwb au, roommate au, f2l

Warnings: more feels!

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: Title named after the song Contaminated by BANKS. (Should give it a listen after reading!) Unedited!!!

“So what you’re telling me is, you fucked your roommate slash best friend who thought you were seducing him in the middle of a heatwave, and now, 9 months into sleeping together, you’re in love with him. Not only sleeping with, but also doing domestic coupley things like cooking together and cuddling during Netflix, but you guys not once made it official, or even exclusive because you both have commitment issues. And you thought he loved you too, so you decided to test him by saying you’re going on a date with someone to see his reaction, only for that to backfire right in your face because he slept with someone out of anger.”

You blink. “Man, why d’you have to put it like that?”

“Put it like what? I just summarised everything you told me concisely.” He laughs and pulls you in closer. You can’t help but note how different he smells, not bad, but just not what you’re used to. “So in conclusion, you’re both idiots and now you’re heartbroken.”

“I- I��m not heartbroken, I wouldn’t go that far. I’m just… a bit bummed out.” You avoid his gaze, squirming in his arms because the heat under the covers is starting to get to you.

“Wow, one night with you and I already know how stubborn and headstrong you are. You literally teared up a minute ago when you were talking about him. This is your problem: even now, you’re not willing to admit your true feelings. How well has that worked for you so far?” He shakes his head in dismay, his investment in your predicament surprisingly genuine.

This is a weird as fuck situation you’ve gotten yourself in. Out of desperation for relief from your, okay fine, heartbreak, you went out last night and came home with a guy. Taehyung had also gone out, and judging by the fact that it’s now the morning after and he still has yet to return, you can guess the direction in which his night went. It stings, but now you’re a hypocrite. This guy who you don’t even know the name of, Club Guy, has turned out to be more than just a fuck though. He knew he was the rebound for someone else, and he was more than glad to help. But one thing led to another, and the next thing you know, after your third round, you are pouring your heart out to this guy - this random, incredibly attractive, amazing at giving head, guy from the club.

It would be awfully strange, except he is unusually good at comforting people. You’re might consider keeping this one as a friend.

“Dude, I know it’s not my forte. I’m not good at expressing my emotions, okay?” You revel in the softness of his fingertips as he feathers your back. The sun is peeking through your curtains; you’re counting down the minutes until Taehyung returns, but at least speaking to Club guy is taking your mind off the fact that he was with someone else last night. “Yes, I’m heartbroken. I… I fucking love him. I know it was my fault for trying to get a reaction from him, but I just wanted him to say it, you know? Say that he loves me out in the open and that he wants me to… I don’t know, be his girlfriend. Girlfriend? Is that the right word? It sounds so weird. I don’t fucking know.”

Club Guy rolls his eyes, sighing at your ineptitude to grasp the simple concept of love. “Yes, girlfriend. God, you’re so annoyingly cute.” He smiles a smile at you that others would surely swoon for, and though your mind is too preoccupied with the boxy grin of someone else, you appreciate the warmth in his eyes. “Look, was it the night before the last that this all went down?”

“Yes.” Too fresh, too soon for you to be sleeping with someone else, you know. But you needed it so badly, you just needed to take your mind off him.

“What about the morning after? Surely you’ve seen each other since. From how you described him, I feel like there’s no way he could bring someone home knowing that you’re in the room next door.”

The memory sears.

You distinctly remember hearing their awkward morning-after conversation out in the dining room. After a long debate of whether to go out and reveal yourself to them or not, you decided that, fuck it, you’d already cried yourself to sleep last night because of this stupid son of a bitch, there is no reason for you to inconvenience yourself just to save Taehyung an even more awkward encounter. And so you stormed out of your room, eyes probably still a bit puffy and red, pretended you can’t see them and proceeded to make yourself a smoothie.

Yes, a homemade smoothie. You made sure to turn the setting of the blender all the way up so it was as loud and noisy as possible. You’re petty like that.

Especially because she’s using your mug.

Taehyung’s look of surprise when he saw you come out of your room did not give you even a fraction of satisfaction. Just a sad pang in your heart.

“I- Oh. I didn’t know you were home.” There was shame in his voice, and you hated every twist of your heart that it elicited.

You ignored him, not even a second of eye contact, poured that mango and berry smoothie and padded back into your room.

You had cried into your smoothie because his hair was messy like it usually was in the morning, voice still a deep rasp and eyes not fully open yet. And you had wanted to hug him so badly.

“It was awkward. I was a cold bitch and ignored him when I interrupted their breakfast. But no, he didn’t know, he was shocked to see me home.” You mutter, burying your face into your pillow to try to forget yesterday morning.

You could have said something, at least shown how hurt you were so he would apologise. Because you know he would apologise. But of course, you had a prideful image to uphold. Classic classic.

“Then…” Club Guy runs his fingers through your hair, twirling at the ends. “Then I feel like it’s really not too late. I’ll be out of here soon, and when he comes back, just sit him down and speak to him calmly. Calmly being the key word here. Explain to him that you weren’t actually remotely interested in the guy you went on a date with, and just wanted to prompt him to make you his. Tell him that you made a mistake and you’re hurt by what he did, but you can look past it because you were both in the wrong. Or maybe just tell him that you love him and don’t want to be with anyone else. It’s your choice whether you tell him about you and me, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him is all I’m saying.”

You contemplate his words. It sounds easy as hell when he says it like that, but you know when the moment comes, you will freeze up, panic, and muck it up somehow. It’s just a ‘I’m sorry’ and three simple words. Yet it feels like the most difficult thing you’re going to do.

“But what if he doesn’t understand. What if he doesn’t even like me like that, I feel like I could be grossly misinterpreting things.” You’ve pondered about this possibility since two nights ago. Afterall, how could he just go out and sleep with someone like that right after your fight if you mean so much to him? But then again, look at you now - likewise in bed with someone, albeit mostly for therapeutic reasons.

Club Guy shakes his head looking at you, almost in pity at how you could possibly still not get it. Smirk playing at his lips that remind you so much of Taehyung’s smugness. Fuck, it hasn’t been two days and you already miss him so much that your bones ache.

“Look, your best friend is head over heels in love with you and you’re seriously blind for not being able to see this earlier. Didn’t you say he would stay up all night with you during exam season to make you coffee and massage your shoulders? There’s no question about it, the guy is more whipped than whipped cream.”

Club Guy sits up, the covers falling off his front to reveal his toned sparsely tattooed body. You watch him wordlessly get dressed, the storm that is your mind whirling you into pieces. He’s right. He’s so right, and you hate it. The solution is honestly so simple. You and Taehyung are like two dots on a blank page. Instead of a mere straight line to connect the dots, you drew spirals around each other, closer and closer but never touching.

Should you tell him about Club Guy? You feel like you should. Though he is right, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. But you don’t want any more games, anymore dishonesty. Straight line.

“Uh, thank you for talking this out with me, I appreciate it. I’ve had no one to talk to about this because none of my friends know about him and I, and it’s kind of too late for me to drop the bomb now.” The awkwardness begins to trickle in, on your part at least. Club Guy just smiles that smile at you, rather pleased with himself.

“I should have charged you for that.” He shimmies into his skin tight black jeans, eyes crescent in amusement.

“What, the sex or the therapy session?” You joke. It’s sad because he has such potential to be a great fuck buddy, and you 9 months ago would not have hesitated to make him your next booty call. But the truth is, even as you were kissing, fucking someone else, you were imagining Taehyung the whole time.

If love is a sickness, you’re plagued on your deathbed.

Club Guy laughs. “If it doesn’t work out, call me I guess. But I’m rooting for the two of you idiots. You better not fuck this up.” When he slides into his shoes, you realise how much you dread him leaving. Firstly, because finally speaking to someone about all your pent up emotions for Taehyung feels like a weight lifted off your chest. Secondly, because you really don’t want to be left alone right now. You don’t want to agonise over every second that Taehyung isn’t home yet.

Lethargically, you stretch over the covers and roll out of bed, your limbs feeling especially heavy with the looming pressure of what you have to say to Taehyung. “I’ll… walk you out.”

The next series of events happens in shutters.

Mid yawn, as you’re scuttling down the hallway after Club Guy to see him out, the front door swings open. Taehyung walks in in yesterday’s clothes, wearing a miserable expression to begin with. But when his eyes glance up and locks on your male company, his face…

Shatters.

You have never seen Taehyung’s temper explode before. You’ve witnessed his grumpy tantrums, his quiet sulking, but this - a detonation of pure rage, catalysed by shock - runs your blood ice cold.

‘What the fuck?’ His voice is deadly low, eyes flying between the two of you. And instantly, you’re filled with a reciprocating anger. He can’t possibly go off on you right now, he can’t have the fucking nerve. Not when you hadn’t said a word about him and that girl yesterday.

“Holy shit…” From the corner of your eye, Club Guy turns a ghastly sheet of white.

It doesn’t dawn on you until he spits his name out like poison. ‘Park Jimin, what the fuck?’

And sense exits your brain.

You can’t move a muscle if you wanted to, nor utter a sound. You feel like flotsam, swept away by a roaring wave. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. Of all people, all people, you slept with Park Jimin. As in Taehyung’s ex-best friend who his girlfriend had cheated on him with, Park Jimin.

“Oh my fucking god. Kim Taehyung…” To his credit, Jimin can at least speak, unlike you. Gone was the lovely, charming guy talking you through your crisis. He brushes his hair back in disbelief. “I- What the fuck… I swear I didn’t know she’s your girl.” You try not to let the words ‘your girl’ sink in too much. Because you were his, even if you weren’t.

“I swear to fucking god. I give you 10 seconds to leave my house before I kill you.” Not only can you not believe your poor luck of managing to bring home Jimin of all people from a random bar, you also cannot believe the fury seething from Taehyung, someone who you no longer recognise.

Jimin does not need to be told twice; he spares you one last glance before dashing out.

After the door slams, there’s just silence. Your eyes fixed on Taehyung’s, mind trying to comprehend how royally you’ve fucked up once again. You’re desperately trying to convince yourself that it isn’t your fault, you didn’t know. But the hurt trickling through Taehyung’s angry facade inoculates you with enough guilt to make you nauseous.

“Seriously?” Taehyung is trembling, from rage or heartache you don’t know. “You fucked Jimin?”

“I… I had no idea, I swear, Taehyung.” You want to move towards him but your feet stay planted on the ground. Your own throat is trembling, definitely out of heartache. You can’t imagine the pain tearing through him right now.

Another moment of an agonising silence. Every second you’re just standing there flabbergasted is a fresh stab to your chest. How did you two get to this place?

“So you fucked him? Yes or no?” When his voice cracks, it takes everything in you to keep the tears from springing.

You swallow. “Yes.”

Taehyung shuts his eyes, and it feels like he’s shutting the chapter of his life that is you. The end is looming, you can feel it. You don’t see how you two could possibly recover from this. How could he forgive you?

“Did it not cross your mind that that Jimin you were fucking could be the Jimin who stole my ex-girlfriend? Like the Jimin that led me to move in with you in the first place? Did I seriously not cross your mind even once?” His words are a slap after slap, no, even more physical than a slap.

Did he not cross your mind, he has the audacity to ask. He was the only thing on your mind, that idiot.

“I didn’t know his name, Taehyung.” You try to suppress the surge of injustice you feel. Of course you thought about him. How could he even ask something like that, as if you’ve done this out of malice.

“Oh, right.” He scoffs, shoulders dropping. “I forgot, you fuck guys without learning their names.”

And just like that, the line between sadness and anger is breached.

“Excuse me? What did you just say to me?”

“Do you want me to repeat it?”

Somehow, anger hurts more than the guilt you had felt. It manifests as something grotesque festering away in your chest, all the bitterness, the tears, the heartbreak, all condensed into this ugly emotion.

“Taehyung, you went and fucked someone first while I was in the room next door.” His tightly drawn brows soften a little. “I heard everything, every creak of the bed, every moan, every fucking thing. You have no idea how much that killed me, not a single fucking idea.” You feel your face crumpling, eyes stinging, and you hate falling apart like this in front of him, but there’s nothing holding your broken pieces together anymore. “I didn’t say a single word about it, shit, I even let that bitch use my mug while I was dying inside. And now you have the nerve to pin this on me and make me feel like a worthless piece of shit.”

You watch it dawn on him, the distraught state of your mind. And you want it to feel like a competition, like ha, you hurt me way more. But it isn’t. There is no winner. There’s just you two, gradually losing each other.

“I was drunk…” He croaks. “And I didn’t know you were home, I thought you went home with Junho.”

“You really think that little of me. Then you don’t know me at all if you think I would’ve done that. But look at yourself, you didn’t text me once that night, just went straight out to the club and fucked some girl. And what about last night? You didn’t come home either.” You hiss, pitch raising.

“I didn’t sleep with her last night. I couldn’t even kiss her for more than a minute on her bed because it felt so wrong it made me fucking sick. I stayed on her couch and thought about you all fucking night. Happy?”

The truth rams into you no lighter than a train. You curse yourself. You curse him. This spectacular mess is unravelling so devastatingly that you want to scream. You can’t stomach the thought that you were fucking Jimin while he was thinking about you. Your situations mirrored one night after the next.

“And you say you were dying inside, but what about me? Hmm?” He flings his arms in exasperation. “Well what about me? How do you think I felt when I found out you were going on a date with some guy I’ve never heard you mention? How do you think I felt when you left me here all alone after that fight to wonder what the hell you were going to do with him that night? What else could I have done except get so drunk that I didn’t even remember my own name?” Seeing pain splatter across his beautiful features perhaps ruins you more than anything else. But your own pain is ringing.

“You didn’t even text me once! All you needed to do was tell me not to go, and I would have fucking stayed!” You cry, your throat dry and clogged.

“Did you want me to get on my fucking knees and beg? I didn’t have a right to tell you not to go. If you wanted to go, who am I to stop you?” He yells, a sheen now coating over his eyes, much like your own.

“GOD, I didn’t want to go, Taehyung! I don’t like him at all! Junho was nice but my mind wasn’t on him for even one second. I was coming back home to tell you I love you because I can’t stomach being with anyone else. But guess what? You were out pulling someone else because I clearly meant so little to you. Then I had to stay up all night listening to your fucking sex noises. I’m not the one who fucked up first here.”

Taehyung takes a breath to retort, but stops. Nothing but woundedness in his eyes. It’s clear that your words are embedding into him. The I was coming back home to tell you I love you. His expression falls, rapid breathing slows.

You’re looking at each other like you don’t recognise the other. Because it has never been like this between you two before. He has never felt more foreign, distant.

And when a wave of silence to calm you both has passed, he says quietly, “Why did you have to do that to me in the first place? I… I thought it was clear how I felt…”

The thundering tempest of your temper eases completely at the brokenness in his eyes. Acrid taste of regret in your mouth at the words that you hadn’t meant. Taehyung wasn’t the one who fucked up first, you shouldn’t have pulled that whole date thing. If you had just trusted him, and given him time, you would not be here right now.

But look at you two, fighting once again. Calmly, Jimin had said. And even that, you weren’t capable of. This is a childish game, the tossing of blame, and you’re drained. You don’t want to fight anymore. You don’t want to hurt. But you don’t know how to end this without ending everything.

“You really, really hurt me, Taehyung. But I was still willing to let it go. I was waiting for you to come back to tell you that… To tell you how I feel.” Your voice is soft now, diminished to just more than a whisper. You feel so extremely vulnerable, your frame creases inwards.

“You slept with Jimin…” Taehyung breathes, fists slowly unclenching. “Y/N, not just anyone, Jimin. I know I’d be a hypocrite if it were anyone else, but it’s him.”

“I didn’t know it was Jimin.”

“I didn’t know you were home after the date.”

For a good long second, you just stare at each other, chests heaving, throats raw, and you wonder if you are going to kiss and make up right this instant. Because for a moment, it feels like you could. It feels like you could forsake the past and just start anew.

But the window for that opportunity passes by as neither one of you takes a step forward.

You’re going in circles, you know.

“This isn’t going to work.”

Despite everything, this has been the hardest thing for you to say yet. And this time, you let the tears roll down. Your heart is screaming at you because it is on fire, but you persist through it because you know this has to stop and he doesn’t have the heart to say it so it has to be you.

And you just look long and hard at Taehyung, watch his eyes widen, shift, as he registers the finality of this outcome. It has been a wreckage. Only fragments of what once was a beautiful thing is left. You can’t keep hurting each other like this, and he finally knows it.

“What do you mean?” He asks, as if your heart hasn’t broken enough.

You want to fall onto your knees and sob.

“I mean, this needs to end. We’re doing and saying things we don’t mean and causing each other so much pain. If it was meant to work, it would have worked. I don’t want to keep doing this, Taehyung. Let’s stop this before we hurt more.”

Falling. Tears keep falling.

You’re breathing, yet choking on air.

Taehyung’s cheeks are stained, eyes rimmed with red. You have to clamp down on your lips to prevent yourself from crying out loud. When he closes his eyes, streams flow out, and you don’t think you’ve ever experienced greater pain. You want to hold him so badly, so badly. You want to tell him that you’re sorry for everything, and that you’ll always forgive him no matter what he’s done. But you can’t. Because you know things can never return to the way they were. Neither of you will be able to forget what the other’s done, it will live in the back of your minds, eating away at your insecurities.

Your love is tainted. Contaminated. And always will be now.

And even still, the selfish part of you wants him to say something, protest, fight for you. But you know he won’t. Because you know he knows it won’t be the same.

“So this is it? It’s over?” Cracks in his voice, cracks in your hearts.

It’s over.

But you can’t say it, so you just nod. All of this, just gone within days. Was your love so fragile to begin with? You were such a fool to believe that it would be enough.

“You can stay here, I’ll go.” You finally tear your eyes away from him, vision but a white glassy blur. You would rather him stay, it’s the least amount of respect you could offer to show how much he means to you.

And as you’re about to turn away, “You know that I love you, right?”

He says it, the first and last time you’ll hear those three words containing the meaning you’ve been seeking.

The tears don’t feel like they can stop.

“I know. I love you, Taehyung.”

And that has been your problem. You love each other too much but trust yourselves not enough.

A/N: Sorry SORRY!! Don’t hate me… ;----; one part left </3

22/02/19

@taexxxiiaa @shookpreme @taetaeobsessed @tangledsparkles @nonexistentfucks @evilkookie @nbiased95 @taehyungmakesmeoof @itscalledgayhoney @tahaing @deliciouslydisturbed365 @expensive-bangtan-girl @jwlmnbt @herakimkim @dnyad @kaepjjang365 @gingerpeachtae @spring2787 @askingtheimportantthingshere @casualminiaturetimemachine @vasysauce @deadinsidebitch2412 @emiyooa @i-dont-even-know-fck @chimycthulhu @gixanjos @hisunshiine @xtaeyi @softjellyjimin @bluemooncnblue @malfeitofeitto @bangtanfancamp @keopitae @out-of-jams@camilaxpolanco @d-noona @haechanspudu @dawnispeace @vante-visuals@liquanzhe222 @bangtanloverrrrr @inner-monologue @bs14401 @seokjoontae @trviahope @comingjimin @jeonsshadow

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drcrushers · 3 years

Text

something i wrote on just for fun. it’s probably a little dumb, but here we are.

Your smile could out-shine the sun.

It had started out innocent enough. An envelope tucked into her momma’s mailbox and addressed to her while she’d been out. Not one to get messages except from Hermes, she’d opened it with some curiosity. A letter, beautifully written in an unfamiliar hand and unsigned at the bottom. Not quite a love letter, but something almost like it. A request to write back, to put it into the mailbox and it would get to the secret author in return.

Fuck it, why not?

She knew it was probably a mortal just showing fondness; she’d gotten letters like it before. But there’s something rather . . . fine. Poetic, in a sense. Kind. Made her feel a bit silly reading it over and over again, but Persephone is in a decent mood and decides to write back to at least thank them for the lovely letter.

So she does.

She keeps it simple. Nothing flowery. Thanks the supposed author for the flattery in the way she does all the mortals when they give her offerings. It’s nice to write a letter; she ain’t in a while. She and Hades ain’t exchanged them in years, he doesn’t have time for them. Much like he doesn’t have time for her, but that’s neither here nor there.

She writes back, signs it sloppily and tucks it into the mailbox.

Persephone doesn’t expect another one back.

I can’t stop smiling when I read your letter, so I hope you don’t mind my reply.

But there it is a few days later, the same handwriting with her name on the front. Which is strange - mortals tend to refer to her by titles, not her name. Afraid of saying it, they’d said once. Invoking her wrath. She’d called it a load of horse shit, but mortals tended to do things their way and she was content on letting them keep up that practice long as they wanted.

This one seemed different.

The letter was a direct response. The same flowery language, delicate and sweet. Flirty, if she didn’t know any better. How flattering. But now she’s just curious - and part of her is spiteful, too. If Hades knew, she could only imagine his fit of jealousy. Good.

Persephone replies.

And so a summer long fling begins. In words of course, nothing more. The letters become a brightness in her days of work. She looks forward to getting them, reading them, and drafting up replies. She develops a collection of them in her vanity drawer and the stack only grows as the summer goes on. A hidden secret, almost. Something her momma or Hades can’t intrude on or say she can’t. Maybe it’s selfish or stupid, but she doesn’t care. Not like it’ll matter come winter. The poor mortal will be dead or have forgotten her, surely. They often do when she goes down to the underworld. Back to her husband who’ll no doubt drive her to the depths of insanity again.

Hell, she might not even make it to the end of the summer. Maybe he’ll come get her early - again. She tries not to think of it, and spends her days bringing the summertime to those who need it most. That’s how she operates. The letters are a nice break and she loses herself in them late into the evenings. Rereading them. Writing back. Pretending she has a friendship-maybe-more with someone who certainly doesn’t build capitalistic hellscapes for what is supposed to be her benefit.

It’s not the butterflies she got from first meeting her husband, but the feeling is something similar. She can’t deny it. She genuinely smiles for what feels like the first time in years when she reads the letters or replies.

We should meet before you go.

The request comes as the summer begins to fade. Fall and winter are close on it’s heels. She thinks immediately it’s a bad idea - but Hermes, who knows now, only encourages it oddly enough. A night out before she’s confined in darkness for six months. It’s not a bad idea.

So she accepts.

---

Persephone hates her reflection.

It shows too many lines, too many wrinkles that have shown up over the years. Her hair is unruly, curlier than her momma’s and it snags everything in the fields in it’s grasp that leaves her plucking foxtails and other burrs out of it for ages. Even down to the shade of her skin - none of it seems particularly beautiful compared to her momma or their other relatives up top. Most of the time she doesn’t give a damn; some days she stares at her reflection and wonders what others must see in her. What her husband had seen in her that day in the garden some centuries ago. What made her so different? So beautiful when there were a plethora of other nymphs, demi-gods, and outright goddesses who outranked her in that regard.

She huffs, drags her fingers across her face. She’s getting old. Too old. Vaguely she wonders if, as a goddess of life, if she’ll end up grey and decrepit and still trying to garden? An old crone, meant to be the embodiment of life. Hera is as old as her momma and still somehow looks decades younger - then again, Hera doesn’t live in the mortal realm, and doesn’t do physical damned labor. Frankly she wonders how a woman like her survived ten years of war, but that’s besides the point. Much as she loathes her own reflection, Persephone would rather be wrinkled and grey than live on that mountain half the year.

She toys with a small pot of dark charcoal eyeliner, well used and worn before picking up a small brush with which to apply it with. She remembers using wild berries to stain her lips long before her momma ever let her near an ounce of make up, trying to make herself look like what she imagined the ones up on the mountain looked like. Ethereal, beautiful, striking women - as a girl she’d had no idea how awful and cruel they could be at the time and simply wanted to embody them. Now she mostly tries to be everything they aren’t out of sheer spite. She uses a rich plum color against her lips, and decides she looks decent enough in the reflection that blinks back at her.

She doesn’t know why she’s doing this - it’s stupid. But she’s just bitter and angry enough at her husband to spite him, too, and Persephone ain’t always made the best decisions sometimes. Hermes had only encouraged her, clearly eager to get her out of her own mind for a night and forget about her crippling marriage.

Harmless night of flirting could do her good. Remind her she ain’t an old washed up hag. Morale boost and all that. Not as if she wasn’t spending the evening in his bed - though the more bitter part of her says it might do her husband some good to think so. Sober his ass right up to keep him acting like a damned moron. Besides, she’s been writing with this stranger all summer. The letters have been her life and Persephone would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious and intrigued. Eager to meet this stranger who’d spent his summer writing to her as well. Clearly he cared and if Persephone could give him a night of enjoyable company (sans anything below the belt) before winter claimed him, so be it.

Huffing, Persephone tries to fuss with her hair - and decides it’s a lost cause. Why does she care so much? She shouldn’t. But she tries. Because Hades ain’t given her the excuse in a while. Might as well enjoy the night, even if it won’t lead to nothing. She ain’t that type - even if she wanted to be. Persephone has been fiercely loyal to her husband and knows he’s the same; they’re just a damned wreck when it comes to communicating. Maybe she can practice on this little date.. It’s the first time she’s given in to Hermes’ encouraging in a while - who she knows would rather see her happy than anything and thinks Hades is the source of all her misery. He’s half right. Truth is she does a lot of misery to herself because she can’t swallow her own damn pride or some other bullshit. Much as Hades has built the wall between them, Persephone’s been supplying him with the bricks for years.

She doesn’t dress fancy. Her usual is good enough, still smelling of the flowers and pollen and the warmth of the sun stitched into the fabric. It’s her favorite. Maybe that’s why Hades had replicated it in black for down below, the dusting of diamonds a nod to how he viewed her as a gem to be displayed. A gown of darkness that was everything her favorite summer dress wasn’t. She doesn’t remember where she got it, just that it’s comfortable and flows freely enough not to restrict her. In the other she feels caged, chest tight and pained when she tries to breathe too deeply. It’s in her head, she knows, but the difference still matters.

Satisfied she looks semi-decent enough to mingle with mortals, Persephone half gallops down the steps in the way she always has at her momma’s house. Ain’t been her house in a while. Ain’t felt like home since she ran off down below. Still, it serves as a roof over her head when she’s up top and her momma is still kind enough most of the time, eager to have her home. Demeter is out in the fields so she isn’t there to throw a comment her way as she leaves the house, the evening air slightly more crisp than usual. A sign that winter would be coming on soon - a sign that she’d be headed back down below in the not too distant future. Frankly she’s surprised Hades ain’t come for her already. Her stomach twists at the thought.

Hermes’ bar isn’t far, the town a small scattering of lights in the growing dim light of day. Small houses gathered together, a quaint little place that had been perfect for Demeter, apparently. The bar was one of the larger buildings, music and voices already adrift out the open door. She can’t remember a time when it wasn’t crowded. Since she’s frequented crowds have only grown - Persephone remembers being worshipped at altars carved of marble and stone; now there’s only the bar that carries her token of favors, her mortals far too eager to buy her a drink in some parody of once bloody sacrifices. She doesn’t complain; they’re good at picking wine.

As always there are gazes that turn her way as she approaches and Persephone plasters a smile across her face. She’s well practiced these days, pretending to be happy. The mortals don’t notice and greet her as always. Raise their cups, toast to their patroness who tries - but it’s hard when old man winter comes early and won’t let her go until late. Hard to keep an entire world going when she gets a fraction of time to bring decent harvests. Still seems no matter how hard she tries there are always ones who don’t make it through the winter. The ones missing from the tables in the bar. She may not remember their exact faces, but she knows they’re missing. Knows these places should be filled by healthy warm bodies - and instead there are only fleeting ghosts in the chairs instead.

“Was wonderin’ if you’d show up.” Hermes remarks lightly, pouring her drink before she can even reach the bar proper. “I always do. Show up. Reckon it’s like clockwork these days.” Persephone replies, grabbing the glass as he finishes and taking a long swig. Immediately the warmth spreads from her belly out, and she knows she’ll be numb by the end of the night. Hopefully.

“Sit yourself down. Or make the rounds. Whatever ya like. Your friend ain’t here yet.”

She snorts. “Of course not.”

Holding tight to her drink, Persephone does a turn about the room. The mortals are usually pleased to see her, leech off the warmth she naturally radiates. A smile, a laugh, a dance - it’s all too familiar to her and she’s happy to help in the ways she can. If they’re gonna die, they might as well die happy. Either way in the end they all come to her in the underworld. Once she could have granted them some semblance of the afterlife, but now they all toil away in those damned factories and mines. But they don’t need to know it. Not yet. Not now.

She loses track of time as some point, because Hermes suddenly grabs her by the elbow and they do a little twirl. Her body is less tight, the alcohol already working easily into her system to let her at least enjoy the night without struggling to forget about her shithole marriage.

“Your date is here.” He grins.

“Ain’t a date.” She teases. “Least, better not let my man hear you say that.”

“Won’t hear it from me, sister.” Hermes winks, and turns her nearly into the arms of another. A sharp, delightful feeling races up her arms and down her spine the second her hands touch the rough ones of the other figure.

She knows who it is without question, without even looking up. A smile comes unbidden before she can stop it.

“It’s you.” She whispers, one of those hands coming up to tuck beneath her chin, to bring her gaze to his. Her heart races and she wants to laugh.

Hades smiles.

“It’s me.”

#hadestown #inspired by the pina colada song ngl

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angelmichelangelo · 3 years

Text

i’m about five years too late and nobody asked for this except me and i need to just get this out of my brain because it’s 2am so here’s a list of things i wish happened on glee that didn’t HERE WE GO:

- new directions being actual teenagers. just them hanging out. going to group sleepovers. giant study sessions (because school exists in this universe?) like remember in tpp when they were eating lunch together ? that’s what i wanted MORE of. just them being actual friends. a sleepover episode is all i wanted imagine all the abba songs we could have gained from that episode

- a halloween themed episode. the closest to this that we got was the ‘thriller/heads will roll’ mashup which YES was iconic but im greedy and it’s not enough. my idea for a halloween episode is that the gang gets trapped inside the school after staying behind to idk rehearse? or something? and then things get progressively worse as they start to go a little mad, thinking the school is haunted and they split up into pairs trying to find an escape and they think they’re seeing ghosts/someone lurking around the school and they’re getting real spooked but it turns out it’s just sue fucking with them lmao

- kurt and finn being brothers. THE POTENTIAL WAS THERE and sadly after furt we are left with crumbs. why ?? WHY?? little moments like finn saying that he’s driving back home with kurt or them saying they can’t do something because they have a family thing would have been good enough. more scenes of them hanging out in their home with their parents would have been *chefs kiss* but alas. it never happened because glee writers are bastards

- based off my last point: sam actually living at the hudson-hummel house because he actually did live there? but nothing is ever said like what’s the dynamic there why weren’t kurt and sam and finn close if they all lived together for what? like a year? was sam living in the mf shed? did he ever get close to carole and burt?? where tf did he live when everyone went off to college did he just stay in their house lol who knows not me LMAO

- blaine dealing with his trauma ? mental health was never dealt with very well on this show. emma’s ocd was just ignored after she got married or whatever and blaine mentioned his trauma once and then it was ignored until it was mentioned in passing a few seasons later and even he just brushed it off and it was never brought up again like wtf. i have no idea how they wrote a whole episode about hate crime in bash and they never once thought to have blaine and kurt have a single conversation together, let alone a conversation about how they’d both been victims of a hate crime. AND THE ONLY TIME BLAINE DOES MENTION IT IS IN TESTED WHERE ITS JUST USED AS A REASON FOR THEM TO FIGHT AAAAAAAA no wait im calm it’s okay. i just would have liked to have seen kurt and blaine have an emotional moment together in that episode that didn’t include blaine singing and kurt being knocked tf out. just sayin.

- kurt dealing with HIS trauma !! again, glee gets bad points for talking about mental health and it just is crazy that they had so much potential with kurt, ie: depression, anxiety, ocd (kinda?) his bullying, being literally assaulted (i see u ryan murphy taking that whole plot line so loosely mmhm) and then shoehorning in the fact that he was suicidal AT THE SECOND TO LAST EPISODE when they had a whole episode about suicide and they could have mentioned it at any time but ofc they didn’t because the writers just wanted to shove in as much as they could in the flashback episode AYE AYE AYE the potential!!!! oof.

- literally just more tina. jenna ushkowitz is a fantastic actor/singer/preformer and she was criminally underused. i like the episode props because of two reasons: one. everyone switching characters was amazing. and two. some actual tina scenes. even if she.. technically was rachel but also herself or something? either way. i digress

- this is just in general but MORE ABBA AND ALSO THE CARPENTERS and also some sound of music songs would have worked GREAT but they already had like a million songs and as the show progressed they veered away from old songs and more towards popular songs at the time to help chart numbers blah blah blah whatever it’s cool. but also how did they only do a few abba songs that is criminal

- a more fleshed out ending that wasn’t so rushed. like rachel won a tony and everyone else is just? there? why is sam at mr shue’s house ??? how did artie get up the stairs? did quinn graduate from yale? and where tf was kurt and blaine’s child during ‘i lived’ because burt and carole are vibing in the audience and rachel isn’t pregnant so like? is the baby just?? alone somewhere in the wings?! lmao where are u bby girl!! but once again i know they didn’t have the time to do it so idk it’s fine what they did it just sucks we didn’t get more! but again. fanfic exists so yah im all good

- more of blaine’s mum. or mom, in this case i guess. why cast gina gershon and then give her ONE line like ? ik there was a whole deleted script that explained why she was there but i love that up until that point blaine seemed like he genuinely murdered his parents, lived in their big house all alone and when people got suspicious he just told them that they were “out of town” :) either way pam is great i love her and i wish she had more to do in the one episode she was ever in. not even a moment with blaine?? wasted.

- more of cooper anderson, matt boomer is so fucking funny everytime i think of the emotion tornado i bust a lung laughing like it’s so fucking stupid but oh my good i love it. (and if you haven’t watched the special feature of cooper’s transformers audition tape please please watch it because it’s just so funny.) ik he was just a special guest but i wish they got him back for at least the wedding ep but guess my mans was just busy. boo ;(

- going back a couple of points, i wish they’d done a whole episode like props. every actor here just shines when they’re impersonating each other. finn and puck as kurt and blaine is beautiful and quinn and sugar is incredible. also idk why they refused kevin the right to wear the cheerios skirt; they could have put a little more effort into some characters but that’s glee for ya lmao but yeah. a whole episode like that would have been so much fun

- they should have let chris colfer write more episodes. purely for the fact that he wrote with his own bare hands the whole scene where lea michelle’s character gets dragged down a road by dogs. this guy. it’s a shame he only got to write one since he actually did a really good job! i would have loved to have seen what other episode ideas he had :)

- glee in the summer! obviously it only was centred around the school year but after season 3 who honestly gave a shit about the glee club and mckinley lmao i wanna see them in SHORT SHORTS and POOL PARTIES but nope we just got september - june so like rip all my hopes and dreams

- WHAT HAPPENED TO DALTON? bitch just burst into flames ?? and for WHAT?? oh yeah plot convenience smh this is so sad i wish they’d either written something better than “we need the warblers to team up with new directions so uhhh the school burnt down” like. it’s a private school. if the school is gone and they’re just staying at mckinley what are the parents paying for? they’re just cool with sending their kids off to public school now? every adult in this universe has been murdered by these kids, haven’t they? they’re just doing whatever they want jfc

- a wedding was a good episode. ish. and yknow, huge kudos to them because gay marriage wasn’t legal in the us at the time so im less harsh on the fact that they definitely threw up the rainbow flags and made it less about the characters getting married and more so “we have gay characters and look they’re getting married what a concept” but i do wish we could have gotten some more married!klaine since they don’t really have much to do after this understandably but a little moment alone together after the wedding would have been nice :) IT WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE IM TELLING YOU

- get rid of the hummelberry friendship and send mercedes to new york instead. i have nothing else to add to this other than the fact that i mourn the fact that kurt and mercedes went from bffs to just. school mates. this is tragic this is traaaaagic !! and all for more of the rachel berry show smh

- every day i wonder what was going through carmen tibideaux mind when she watched the kurt hummel preform not the boy next door and was like :) and then watched rachel berry have a breakdown on stage and then proceeded to give rachel the spot at nyada and kurt gets payed literal dust. and THEN she had the nerve to tell him it was because his performance had no heart. AND HOW DID ADAM GET IN THIS BABY GOT BACK MOTHERFUCKER?! nyada is a circus school oh my god !!!!! kurt deserved better im telling yall he deserved so much better

there’s so much more i could rant about but im going insane im so tired and i need psychological help after watching glee so im gonna leave it here and say peace out homies it’s been fun but i need to sleep so bad

#this is insanity #how did this happen #glee #tw hate crime mention #tw suicide mention #tw mental health mention #this was from my drafts lmao

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soopysoap · 3 years

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Uh, I read your post about having an 80's au for the foreigen kids. And since I'm a Foreigen kids stan, can you tell me more about it?

HI. ANON? ILY.

They're really just random n messy ideas and i forget how many there are but i'm throwing them all here

so the whole thing takes place in highschool and mainly surrounds the cockswolds cotswolds (mainly mark but rebecca is usually there too)

most of them are seniors, rebecca's a junior

mark is an unpopular nerd, therefore the main character because it's the 80s. so is rebecca but she's not the main character

uhh everyone else is kinda just there

like there are no side characters all the foreign kids are kinda equal focus- wise but the main one is mark i guess

like the leader of their group idk idk

estella is the stereotypical rich popular girl, but she's also a closeted lesbian they're all closeted tbh so she's trying to hide that from her mom. Her mom, instead of being all 'Blah blah blah brrak hearts to fuel my life' or something she's just obsessed with status and how popular Estella is. She's always pleased when Estella has a boyfriend, but it's not often. Basically Estella is more smiley and happy than she usually is, but she's stil usually indifferent. Smiles either when she's genuinely happy or wants something. Most of the time she's deadpan or rolling her eyes

Gaydamien is the rich popular jock, his ego is huge. His dad (since he cant be the son of satan in this one) is the principal of their school. He usually gets what he wants, no matter what. Instead of "You dare [insert something here] to the Prince of Hell????" its that but with "Damien Thorn???" yknow because of his last name. He's been dating Estella to boost his ego, mainly. Doesn't realize he likes guys yet. Estella and Damien hate each other, but everyone believes they're dating because they're too scared to say otherwise. They complain about each other to each other AND to people in private.

Pip is just- he's less of a nerd but more of a kid that's just. There. He isn't nerdy but he definitely isn't popular. At all. He's just a pushover man idk what to tell you. He's usually being bullied. He has a huge crush on Damien, because he got him out of trouble with some other jock like. Once. Always gets giggly around him, it's funny to watch. Also very passive aggressive @ Estella because she's dating him. They have very few classes together, but whenever they do he's always like "hey :) so hows damien" and she responds with "why would i know" and he's like "because??? youre dating him???" and she looks really confused for a second and then is like "OH- Oh yeah okay uh. I don't know. So." and then she starts complaining about him or something and pip is all ":) why not just break up?"

Pip also hates Christophe

Which, speaking of, Christophe is also an annoying egotistical jock who plays football with Damien. Damien and Christophe are best friends. Christophe and Gregory are dating in secret

Gregory is the stereotypical gay kid. No other way to put this. If Ryan Evans from High School Musical had a superiority complex. He's a theatre kid, and takes pride in tha- OH MY GOD. Rachel??? Maybe he's Rachel Berry from Glee??? it would kind of work idk,, ok uh anyway yeah he's always bullied for being openly gay and it sucks but he took defense classes in Yardale (yes he's still a transfer from Yardale, yes he constantly mentions it) so he's able to hold his own. But Christophe usually steps in to get Gregory out of there and tend to his wounds.

Rebeccaaaaaa she's the unpopular girl, just started school and doesnt know shit about it after being homeschooled almost her whole life. Has a little crush on Estella, but Estella "Doesn't" notice her. (Estella just thinks of her as some pretty girl who isnt worth her time) Rebecca usually keeps to herself, is usually gossiped about. Estella never gets involved, but whenever she'd get asked about it, instead of defending Rebecca she just says "I hardly believe any of the rumors. She was homeschooled, not taught in witchcraft or satanisim. Or whatever else everyone's saying. Everyone should really calm themselves, if they were so worried about what people thought of them when Rebecca started going here then they should get that in order first before ruining Rebecca's social life. God. You all have to grow up." So, not necessarily a defense but also not an insult. Rebecca still finds it sweet.

Mark is a neerrrrrrd 80s main character. Minus the popular love interest and yearning 😩 And also if the main character had a god/superiority complex.. he's bullied the most other than Gregory, mostly by Damien n Christophe. Girls don't like him, guys don't like him, he really only had Pip and Rebecca for a while. Pip because he's overly nice to almost everyone and wanted to befriend Mark immediately. Usually during lunch Mark sits with Pip and Rebecca. Mark has to hear about Damien all the time from Pip though, so that's annoying.

Uh I know that Pocket is TECHNICALLY a foreign kid but idk shit about him and dont really think about him but he's Estella's cousin and often hangs out with her since he doesn't really have a friend group. He's also really good friends with Pip. BUT since this is a horror au he dies off early

After theyre all friends some stuff happens yada yada yada Gaymien realizes he's pan and has a crush on Pip, Estella takes Rebecca out for a makeover , Christophe gets severely injured because this is a horror au as well, Damien and Pip make out at some point-

Estella and Rebecca both know that theyre Lesbians but they refuse to admit that they like each other

Kinda thinking of this as if it was stranger things or something so i definitely want there to be like... a series of bad events. everyone thinks everythings cool and fine and whatever and there are moments where our group kinda just get to chill n' be kids. idk i just want there to be a falling out in the group and then they all realize they need each other or something dumb like that

also for some fun chill moments we can have estella and rebecca walking around holding hands and laughing n' stuff bc they love each other idk idk

and after the falling out when they all join together again estella is the first to see some scary stuff but she was also the first to drop everyone except damien and christophe (because of her mother) and so she blames herself and doesnt think she can go to them and just has to deal with it on her own

eventually she tells damien who immediately tells pip who immediately wants to get the group together again

everyone's (the cockswolds) are reluctant to hang out again because of the way they were just forgotten so easily, but they go anyway. because of the horror stuff. they both are pissed at estella though

at some point estella gets badly hurt and rebecca saves her and starts nursing her back to health

estella: why are you... why are you doing this. dont you hate me?

rebecca: i'm doing it because i actually care for you, idiot.

estella: i care for you i just... couldnt...

rebecca: what? spend time with a lowlife like me?

estella: you know thats not what i meant-

they go on like that for a little while longer until they wind up confessing to each other "Because I love you! Is that so fucking hard to believe?!" Would be rebecca's and Estella's would probably be "I don't hate you! You're my favorite person, and I hated having to stop hanging out with you! I love you, okay?!" it would be :) fun

damien and estella come out to each other first. well- damien doesnt really come out he just tells her how confused he is and they hug it out and estella tells him she's a lesbian and they both talk a little while longer and decide that breaking up would be the best idea

thats all i've really figured out for sure,, i have some more ideas but this is. a lot already so. i'm just gonna stop before i write too much 👉👉 anyway, anon ily ty for this. also sidenote: the horror stuff has to do with weird sacrificial cults. i know i have nothing for that and really only talked about how everything starts and drama instead of the interesting stuff but 🥴 i have no defense i just love my kids ok drama is fun

#ANYWAY ANON ILY TY #HEAD FULL #I LOVE THEMMMMMMMMMM #anon sorry this was so confusing #i woke up a little while ago so im too tired to make sense #but i wanted to get this to you as quickly as possible #youre the best #ask

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bunnyswriting · 4 years

Text

A Sweet Tradition

Pairing: Milo x Reader

Content: just some pure fluff

Notes: So I did that Applin sidequest in order to evolve my Applin into an Appletun and now I’m using that little tradition to make a drabble for Milo lol. Hopefully y’all enjoy it

Masterlist

Though the field of botany didn’t seem too interesting to those not invested, it did grant you the privilege of being able to work and live in places you would’ve never dreamed of.

You’d spent the last six months in the region Kalos studying a species of pokemon called Flabébé and it’s two evolutions. They had been fascinating to you as you’d never seen a grass based pokemon before that could be found in various colors, but Flabébé had five different variants!

The countryside of Kalos had become your home as you did your work, waking up everyday to the sight of sprawling grass fields. The house you lived in became a small zoo of Flabébé, Floette, and Florges which you’d been caring for and breeding.

Six months was more than enough to finish your studies on the specific evolutionary line, but honestly you just enjoyed the peaceful living your work came from.

Now you were moving onto the next region, though. Before you left you gave away all the pokemon you’d raised, giving them to aspiring trainers. All except one, a Florges you’d named Rosemary who was the first Flabébé you’d found and raised when you arrived.

Though you knew you’d miss your temporary home in Kalos, you expected Galar to be just as inviting. You’d be living in what looked like the countryside again since you were renting a small cottage in the town of Turffield.

All the pictures you’d seen of Turffield reassured you that the place was absolutely gorgeous; vibrant green hills and fields of wheat, it seemed like the perfect place to raise a troupe of grass types.

It also, coincidentally, happened to be the home of Galar’s grass type gym.

You mused over meeting the gym leader during your overseas flight. You hadn’t looked into them yet, you didn’t even know their name, but you were sure that if there was anyone who you anything about the local pokemon it would be them.

After landing in Wyndon and getting a rather exciting ride in a flying taxi (“How innovative! This Corviknight is gorgeous, why there was nothing like this in Kalos.”), you’d arrived in Turffield.

The roads were and pathways were all dirt, adding to the countryside feel, and when you took in a deep breath the fresh air was more than enough to get you settled into what would be your new home.

You take a brief moment to check your phone to find the address of the cottage, mentally noting that it’s in the west side of the town.

You grab your rolling luggage and sling your book bag over your shoulder, smiling when you feel the excited jiggle of the pokeball on your belt. “Don’t worry Rosemary, I’ll let you out as soon as I find the new house, then we can explore the town together,” you let her know with a smile, patting the pokeball gently.

Then you set off, walking down the road with a happy skip in your step. The atmosphere of the little town just radiates peace, with the distant sound of a flock of Wooloo playing in the fields, and just ahead you could see two Yampers playing tag with one another. It felt almost too perfect-

“Wooloo, no- watch out!”

The voice calling out makes you jump a bit, and you turn to find the source. But before you’re able to fully turn, a sudden voice hits your back and knocks you right over, and all you can see is white.

You momentarily struggle and try to sit up, and blink curiously when you end up face to face with a… Wooloo.

“Hey there, little fella,” you say with a laugh, getting a loud ‘baah’ in return.

“Are you alright? I’m so sorry, this little one has an awful lot of energy.”

It’s the same voice from earlier. You manage to get the Wooloo off of you and look up, your eyes meeting those of a stout looking man.

“Oh it’s no problem, really, I’m not hurt or anything-” you try and assure him, but you’re cut off once more by the jiggling of Rosemary’s pokeball and a bright light.

Your Florges is out of her ball, flittering about nervously, clearly worried about you.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m fine,” you murmur gently, reaching out a hand to try and calm her. She lets out a little chitter, holding onto your hand looking up at the stranger warily.

When you look back up at him, though, you can see that he’s fascinated by Rosemary.

“What species of pokemon is this? She’s gorgeous,” he says in awe, bending down a bit to get a better look at her.

It’s rather endearing that this stranger has such a genuine interest in your pokemon, it reminds you of your own fascination with plant and pokemon life. The curiosity in his green eyes was a bit childlike, and you immediately found him rather cute.

And it seemed that Rosemary had also taken a liking to him after hearing his compliments, since she moved to fluff her flowery mane and bat her eyes at him. Oh yea, she was loving the attention.

“Oh, this is Rosemary, she’s a Florges- they’re native to the Kalos region,” you explain, happy to discuss one of your favorite pokemon for as long as he wanted.

“Fascinating, are you from Kalos?” he asks, turning his attention back to you.

You shake your head, “Gosh, no. I wish, but no. I’m from Unova, actually, but I was in Kalos for six months studying it’s grass types, specifically Florges and it’s pre-evolutions.”

His eyes seem to light up at this.

“Grass types? What a coincidence, I’m the gym leader at Turffield stadium, and grass-types are actually my speciality. My name’s Milo, by the way” he says with a cheery smile.

A gym leader? Well now that you were getting a better look at him it made sense, he sported the Galar gym challenge’s uniform in a variety of greens with a grass type logo splayed over his chest.

“Oh that’s perfect! You were actually just the person I was looking for, I assumed that if you specialize in grass types you could probably tell me all about the ones native to Galar for my research,” you exclaim, finally getting up and off of the ground and dusting the dirt off of you, “I’m cataloging the unique grass types in every region, so you’d be a great help- if you want to help me, of course, I can’t force you to do anything.”

The look of excitement on his face is a bit infectious, and the smile he gives highlights the cute freckles on his nose on cheeks. “I’d absolutely love to help, I can give you your first introduction to one of our grass types right now,” he replies, grabbing one of the pokeballs from his waist and tossing it up.

There’s a flash of light and small of cry of joy as a pokemon you’d never seen before floats before you. It’s body and face are small and cute, but on the back of its head is a big, cottony ball of fluff with seeds scattered about, similar to a dandelion in bloom. Immediately you’re taken, finding this new pokemon adorable.

“Oh my, who is this sweet little thing?” you ask curiously as the little grass type floats up to look at you.

“This is an Eldegoss,” Milo quickly replies, clearly pleased by your interest, “They evolve from the Flowering pokemon Gossifleur. They’re a pure grass type, incredibly sweet, and just a joy to have on the team.”

You smile as you lift a hand and pet the Eldegoss gently, your hand practically sinking into it’s cotton fluff. “She’s lovely. I’d hate to be a bother, but I have two more requests. Can you show me more grass types, and can you take me to this address?” you ask with a shy smile, showing him your phone with the cottage’s location.

The sweet smile he gives you makes you melt a bit, and soon enough the two of you are walking side by side into Turffield, chatting back and forth and slowly getting to know one another better.

---

It’d been about a month now.

You and Milo had become fast friends, hitting things off quickly and bonding over your love of grass type pokemon.

He was indeed a great help to your botany work, more than happy to show and tell you all about the unique grass types of the Galar region, and even some from other regions that you hadn’t seen while in Kalos.

There was something else that had been blooming while you worked alongside Milo, and it wasn’t all the flowers that the gym leader tended to.

You found yourself nursing some feelings for the sweet gym leader, feeling which seemed to surpass your friendship. He was just so kind to you, he always seemed happy to talk and see you. He’d pay you visits at the little college and bring food, usually Galar specialties you’d never had before, and then he’d watch you work on your grass type catalog while asking all sorts of questions, just as passionate about the project s you were.

And it wasn’t even just his personality that endeared him to you, his looks were just as cute. You weren’t sure how he was so physically fit and built yet had a soft and adorable face at the same time, but the contrast seemed to work for him. His laugh was dorky and when you said goodbye he’d pull you into a strong hug which you never wanted to leave, and his eyes… oh, you thought you could stare into those green eyes for hours on end.

Currently you were sat in the backyard of the cottage; a sort of garden area with a picnic table, a small pond, and a couple of blooming flower beds. The sun was setting as you flipped through some notes, jotting down a few notes about Eldegoss’ moveset. There was a little chatter and a splash of water, and you look up to see the Grookey you were currently watching over dancing around in the pond. At the same time you had two Gossifleurs nestled into the flower beds, and Rosemary was out and about as well, eating a pecha berry in the corner of the garden.

“Care for some company?” a familiar voice asks.

A smile immediately makes its way to your lips and you glance over to see Milo standing behind the fence gate. “Sure, you know you’re always welcome,” you reply happily, setting down your pencil as he unlocks the gate.

He walks over and sits beside you at the picnic table, and you’re quick to notice that he seems a bit more reserved than normal, casting his gaze to the ground rather than looking at you directly like normal.

“What’s with the surprise visit, big guy?” you ask him, bringing up the tongue-and-cheek nickname you’d given him weeks ago.

“Well,” he begins, sitting up straight, “I’ve shown and taught you a lot about our Galar pokemon, but there’s one line of pokemon I haven’t introduced you to yet.”

This piques your interest. “Oh? What is it?” you ask eagerly, always excited to learn.

Milo seems to smile at your enthusiasm and pulls out a pokeball- a love ball, specifically. You watch curious as he clicks the button and there’s a flash of light, and next thing you know there’s an… apple? In your lap?

An apple pokemon.

Gently lift a hand and tap the top of the apple, and the two ‘leaves’ atop it open open and blink up at you, revealing that they’re the eyes of the little creature.

You giggle and hold the little pokemon in your hands before looking back up at Milo, “what species is this?”

You’re confused when you see the faint blush dusting his cheeks. “This is an Applin, there’s a sort of… tradition involving Applins in Galar,” he answers, a shy smile on his face.

“And are you going to tell me the tradition?” you ask with a cheeky grin, lifting the Applin and letting him hop around atop the picnic table.

He nods his head and clears his throat, looking out into the distance at the setting sun. “It is said… that... when you gift an Applin to the one you like most, that you will stay together no matter the distance,” he explains, the blush on his cheeks growing even darker as he speaks.

You’re almost starstruck as you gaze up at him, mouth agape. You would’ve never imagined he felt the same way for you, perhaps you were just oblivious but you assumed your feelings would just be unrequited for your entire stay.

He glances over at you and seems to misinterpret your expression since he starts nervously backtracking, “I-I understand that it probably want the best way to confess- it’s probably not what you’re used to and… Arceus, this was a bad idea, I just thought it might be nice since I don’t know how much longer you’d be in Galar for and it could just be a little token of affection, and-” he rambled, and though he was flustered you found it pretty adorable.

You decide to cut him off and grasp his hand gingerly, before leaning up and kissing him sweetly.

The kiss was brief but did it’s job by getting the message across: you liked him too.

When you pull back you see that his face is the reddest you’ve ever seen it, and he stammers trying to find the words.

“Hmm, you’re cute,” you murmur gently, and this sends him over the edge as he pulls his straw hat down to hide his flustered expression.

You giggle at this and try to lift the hat, but he keeps it firmly held down, “oh c’mon, Milo! You’re even cuter when you’re blushing like this,” you tease, finally managing to pull it up.

Now that his face is unobscured you’re able to look up at him, and his eyes soften as he gazes down at you. You feel one of his strong arms wrap around you and gently pull you closer. “So… what do you say?” he asks, sounding hopeful.

“I think… I’ll be staying in Galar for a very long time.”

#milo x reader #milo #pokemon milo #pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon swsh #swsh #pokemon imagines #pokemonimagines #pokemon drabble #milo imagine #reader insert

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