#His entire crew suddenly gets a sixth sense and they KNOW | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

acey-wacey · 3 years

Text

Lovestruck MC Headcanons

A/N: I've been playing lovestruck as a coping mechanism for covid but what really irks me is how the main characters are written. The player is allowed to choose their name, but not their appearance meaning the MC is not intended to be a self-insert. Even though it is established that the MC is a distinct character, they still never have any personality other than their love interest so I've decided to write my completely random headcanons for the MCs of the different books.

Love and Legends MC (with the protags)

-She loves cheesy rom-coms and says it's only to laugh at them but she really just loves the predictability.

-She is very defensive of her friends and has to be held back all the time.

-In high school, she knew she was attractive and lead boys on just to dump them (toxic much?).

-Her favorite food is pizza and she cries inside every time Solaire says she doesn't know what that is.

-She is constantly humming BTS songs and it confuses everyone else.

-She regularly sneaks out of the palace, with her chosen love interest, to find bits of the fantasy world that look just like movies she's seen.

-She makes dirty jokes way too often and only Iseul thinks they're funny.

When Reiner let her out of the palace for the first time, she went crazy with shopping and bought way too many Renaissance dresses.

-After her chosen love interest confessed to her, she had a mental breakdown about how all of this is a coma dream and no real person could love her.

-She is very cuddly and all the horses love her.

Starship Promise MC (aboard the Promise)

-She listens to heavy metal whenever she's working.

-Atlas told her it was annoying so she soundproofed the entire lab in a single night.

-She can actually use a blaster very well but if the chosen love interest offers to teach her, she's suddenly blind.

-She hates pickles and always throws them to Comet even though he doesn't like them either but he'll eat them for her.

-She watches old earth horror movies and laughs when the protagonist does stupid stuff.

-She has astronomy books from all the planets her parents visited and can name most of the stars in the sky from any given planet.

-She always has to be the bait for recon missions because she's a pretty blonde woman but unless it's genuinely important, she'll blow her cover on purpose just to make a point.

-She has a sixth sense for when someone is down and is completely ready to listen to them or knock some sense into them depending on the situation.

-Whenever she gets into an argument with one of the crew members, she just stares at them until they get freaked out and leave.

Reigning Passions MC

-She doesn't flaunt her poker skills but is prepared to humble any cocky player at Sebastian's parties.

-She has a lovely singing voice when she's sober but only ever sings at her grandmother's grave.

-When palace life gets too overwhelming, she sneaks out to the village and works at the bar for an afternoon.

-She knows how to do a lot of card tricks and uses them to entertain children.

-Soon after she was crowned, she appointed Xenia to be her "royal confidante", meaning they can spill tea for an hour and a half every Tuesday and nobody thinks anything of it.

-She learns a little bit of magic from each season, not only to do cool tricks but to appear as the heart of the capital, with influence from all four seasons.

-Never once has she abused her power but when a drunk man grabbed her butt, she seriously considered executing him.

-She is the life of the party, not just because she can make drinks tray well, but because she knows exactly what makes everyone laugh.

-She memorizes small things about each person she meets in court so that she can either become friends with them or keep an eye on them.

-Sometimes she helps Gideon with his experiments even if it's in the middle of the night.

-She despises court parties and always tries to leave as soon as possible.

-She considers her hair a very sensitive part of her body and only lets her chosen love interest style it.

-She has an extensive wardrobe but she only ever wears two dresses because they're the most comfortable.

Astoria: Fate's Kiss

-She is the only person brave enough to ask Hades why he married his niece.

-K-pop stan to the max

-She used to want to own a bakery before she started working for H.E.R.A.

-She is the most indecisive person ever and get stressed out over choosing an ice cream flavor.

-Chosen love interest chooses her ice cream flavor for her and that's part of the reason why she loves them.

-She overworks herself to the point of passing out at her desk.

-She has a pink sparkly pom-pom pen that she calls the "Punish-pen-t" because anyone who swears in the office has to use the pen for paperwork for the next week.

-She likes sour candy better than sweet.

-She doesn't like physical affection and will only let her chosen love interest and May touch her.

-Her favorite flower is sunflowers.

-She has never left Manhattan for any reason other than work.

Castaway! Love's Adventure

-She's all about eating the rich.

-She swears a lot and it bothers everyone on the island.

-She also has immaculate comedic timing and TK hates that it makes him laugh.

-She has scars all over her legs from rocks and brush scratching her.

-She needs to be watched at all times to make sure she doesn't touch any snakes or something.

-After leaving the island, she has withdrawals from switching between wilderness and city so quickly.

-She makes a lot of references to old movies.

-She has a flip phone because she spends all her money on desk accessories.

-She has seen one episode of Naruto and calls herself an anime fan.

-When she gets mad, she has really well thought out argument and provides textual evidence because she's used to journaling.

-She's so used to scrutiny that she apologizes anytime anything happened even if it isn't her fault.

#lovestruck #lovestruck game #lovestruck: choose your romance #love and legends #starship promise #reigning passions #castaway #astoria

40 notes · View notes

yuta1forme · 3 years

Text

like magnets | ten

summary: in which you and ten are up and coming choreographers who are forever at each other’s throats. but maybe fighting is just an excuse to get close.

pairing: ten x reader

genre: angsty fluff

warnings: some swearing, alcohol mention, loads of bickering

length: 4.3k

tag list: @sly-merlin @animegirl366 @yonoohcore

He’s confident to the point of arrogance. He knows exactly how to get under your skin. When the pair of you start fighting, all the other dancers make their way out of the studio, not wanting to get involved in another explosive Y/N-Ten showdown. He counters your every suggestion. He always has more critique for your performances than praise.

And yet, he is the best dance partner you could ever ask for. He matches your poise with his passion. In dance, you both have found a middle ground.

When Ten first joined the studio you really wanted to like him. He was a young, up and coming dancer from Thailand. What you had not seen coming was that besides being the same age, you and Ten had precious little in common. The day you first met Ten, you had decided in less than ten seconds that you two would never, to put this lightly, become the “best of friends”.

You had entered the break room of the studio that day, late and soaking wet because of the heavy downpour that had begun the night before. Hungry and disgruntled, all you had wanted to do was to grab a steaming cup of green tea and the last of your favorite jelly doughnuts. Only the thought of those jelly doughnuts had you hanging on during your hour and forty-five-minute long journey to work this morning. They were your emotional support food, your one and only indulgence. After almost three years at the studio, all the other dancers knew not to touch your jelly doughnuts. All except for the bucket-hat wearing Thai newbie who clearly hadn’t gotten the memo.

“Those were my doughnuts”, you had barely managed to huff out, focusing your mind on not raising your voice or worse, bursting into tears.

Now, if he had just apologized for eating them without asking you first, you both might not have started off on the wrong foot. No, the fucker just shrugged and said, “Didn’t see your name on them”. No shame in his eyes, not an ounce of regret in his voice. The powdered sugar from your doughnuts still around his mouth and dusted over his all-black ensemble. That fucker.

“So people just waltz into a room and eat someone else’s snacks where you’re from?”, you asked, your pitch becoming shriller with annoyance.

“No of course not. Because where I’m from, people don’t leave their snacks where everyone can see them, without putting their name on it first”, he replied, cool as a cucumber.

Taeyong had entered the break room at this point. He took one look at the powdered sugar on Ten’s face and the eyes-gonna-pop-out expression on yours and connected the dots. As one of the senior choreographers in the studio, Taeyong had developed a sixth sense for sniffing out conflicts before they broke out.

“Y/N! I see you’ve already met Ten! He’s the new dancer from Thailand. Ten this is Y/N”, Taeyong had prompted by way of introductions, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and inching closer to the door he had entered from.

“Oh, you’re Y/N. The one who choreographed the last Pink Cashmere comeback, right?”, Ten had asked, suddenly sitting up straight. Seeing that your conversation was turning civil, Taeyong had left the room just as quietly as he had entered it.

“Yes, that would be me”, you had responded. That was your first time working with an idol group and was a milestone in your career. You had spent weeks running on pure adrenaline and Americanos (and the occasional jelly doughnut), spending day and night listening to the new comeback track, reviewing concept photos and looking up old performances to get their style down just right. When you watched the girls perform the choreography for the first time, you were so immensely proud of yourself, you hadn’t stopped beaming for days.

“I should’ve known it was you, it had your signature footwork style all over it”, Ten had said, nodding his head slightly. You had felt flattered at that, surprised that anyone had even picked up that you had a certain trademark in your choreography.

“But, I thought it was too showy if you know what I mean”, Ten had continued, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, a slight frown on his face.

You were almost embarrassed at how much his words affected you. While you were used to internet trolls taking jabs at your work, it was something entirely different to hear full-blown criticism from your peers. As the youngest choreographer in the studio, you rarely got challenged when it came to choreography, with most of your colleagues wholeheartedly encouraging you to spread your wings and grow no matter the outcome. It probably was not intentional on their part but it had become a fear of yours - what if nobody would outwardly challenge your decisions because they thought you were too weak to handle the truth?

Still, you felt a need to defend your creative decision. You needed to stand up for yourself. “The girls are great dancers and I thought a more challenging choreography would push them out of their comfort zone. Sooji and Maya were actually part of a hip-hop dance crew pre-debut. They were itching to try out a new concept”.

“But why not use more formations in the dance? It’s an eight-member group. You could’ve used that to your advantage”, Ten had countered. He made a good point. But you didn’t want to concede to him. Who did this man think he was? Walking in here and questioning your vision as a choreographer?, you though to yourself.

“Most of the other girl groups that came back around that time had similar songs but only Pink Cashmere had a distinct choreography. I wanted to make their choreography memorable”, you had said.

Ten had remained quiet for a while. “I didn’t think of it that way”, he had replied, a thoughtful look on his face. “In that case, I think you succeeded at whatever you set out to do with that choreography. It was definitely memorable, Y/N.”

He turned his gaze up towards your face and flashed you a sweet smile. He looked like a whole different person, almost innocently brushing powdered sugar off his cheeks like a mischievous cat who had just been caught doing something he shouldn’t have done.

Your whole first interaction with Ten had confused you. First he walked in acting like he owned the place, critiquing your choreography as if he was a veteran dancer. But then he had just as easily praised your abilities. But at the back of your mind you had this nagging feeling that whatever Ten had said to you was not in an effort to undermine you, unlike some of the backhanded compliments delivered by your peers. He had criticized you because he thought you could take it, because he thought of you as an equal. And you kind of enjoyed that.

Arguing with Ten became a part of your everyday routine thereafter. So did labelling your snacks with your names and leaving passive-aggressive messages on post-it notes.

At nineteen, you gave up a full-ride scholarship to a prestigious law school in your country and moved to Seoul with a single suitcase and your old school backpack in hand. Your family had threatened to cut off contact with you if you left the country, but you left anyway; Your passion for dance was stronger than your fear of losing them. Dance was your first love. You lived and breathed it. Like hell were you giving up on your first love that easy.

You worked odd jobs during the day and filmed original choreographies for your YouTube channel during the night. After struggling for over a year, your hope slowly dwindling, you got a notification that changed your life. Kim Jongin, one of South Korea’s ballet prodigies had shared one of your videos on Twitter. Your subscriber count had quadrupled overnight, with hundreds of thousands of commenters dubbing you a “prodigy”. Fate brought you to Jongin, who then introduced you to Taeyong, who brought you to SM studios.

It was a dream come true - for years you had only struggled, floating in dark and murky water, swimming forward towards a hazy future. Now, you had thousands of fans, dozens of supportive friends, and a solid foundation from where you could dream. Your friend Hendery liked to joke that you would need more than twenty-four hours a day if you wanted to do everything in your planner. And truth be told, he was right. You had given up a lot to pursue your dreams. Given up on your family, most of your friends, your home country. You wanted to make sure it was all worthwhile. So you wanted to spend every day making the most of the opportunities that you now had. You went to bed each night with a head full of ideas and woke up every morning with the fire to bring them to life.

Of course, dedicating your life to your craft came at a cost. The rest of the world had not stopped moving just because you decided to make dance your life. This dawned on you one rosy Valentine’s Day evening, when you, date-less for the fifth year running, quite naively decided to scroll through Instagram. Amongst the sea of pink, flowers and picture-perfect happy couples were two faces that made your stomach instantly drop - your ex and a stunning woman posing for the camera with their fingers intertwined. On her ring finger, a diamond the size of a blueberry.

You remember the day you broke things off with your ex like it was yesterday. You were at the airport, waiting to get on your flight to Seoul, positively buzzing with nerves. You had waited until you were seated on the plane to send your ex a rather heartless text message saying you were breaking up with him to find yourself and that it was best if he forgot you. Very dramatic, even for you. But you were nineteen and had just watched ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’. In return he had left you an equally dramatic voicemail, pleading with you to not end the relationship and proclaiming that he would never stop loving you. You had all but laughed at his message then.

You weren’t laughing anymore though. He was happily engaged, while you were lonely, lying in bed on Valentine’s day in a pizza grease-stained sweatshirt. You had spent the last few years working relentlessly which had given you a career that you could be proud of, friends you could rely on. But besides the occasional fling here and there, you didn’t have much in terms of a romantic life. You guessed you deserved this, that karma had finally caught up to you. Didn’t stop you from feeling like shit though.

So you did what you always did when you felt particularly shitty. You went down to the studio, turned the music on full blast and dove right into a new choreography. You were freestyling, too lost in the moment to hear the door creak open.

“I gotta hand it to you, Y/N, that was pretty impressive!”, a male voice exclaimed. You had spun around expecting to see Sicheng or Hendery at the door. Instead, you were met with a tired but rather amused looking Ten.

He was dressed in a white silk shirt and a pair of black slacks. You noticed the roses in his hands, slightly wilted but still beautiful nonetheless. He was clearly dressed up for a date. He looked striking as always but you didn’t linger too long on that, thinking that it was your romance deprived mind projecting thoughts onto the first attractive male it saw.

“What are you doing here? It’s Valentine’s day, don’t you have a crowd of screaming fans to attend to?”, you asked sarcastically.

“One date. And they stood me up, actually”, he replied with a bitter smile. He must have been quite upset if he didn’t have a snarky response for you.

You were truly taken aback. Ten? Getting stood up by someone? Ten, who could charm the socks off of anyone he set his eyes on, getting stood up on Valentine’s day?

“But how?”, you blurted out, instantly regretting it when you saw the quizzical look on Ten’s face. Yet you foolishly continued mumbling, or rather digging yourself deeper into a hole.

“I mean, you’re just...so...you”, you said vaguely gesturing at his whole form. From his boyish good looks to his ability to sweet-talk, Ten’s charms were undeniable. Ever since he joined the studio, the number of signups for the afternoon classes had doubled. Dozens of people would come to the studio every day, just to catch a glimpse of him. And he indulged them all too, flashing them his signature grin or paying them a cheeky compliment. If only you weren’t all too familiar with the way he could run his mouth during an argument, you too might have fallen for his charms.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Y/N, but I’m not quite the Casanova you expected me to be. But I will take that as a compliment”, he said with a wink that had you resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here though”, you mumbled out.

“I like to choreograph at night. I think I’m my most creative after midnight. Besides I just got my heart broken and I should channel that emotional energy somewhere right?”, Ten said feigning nonchalance. You could tell he was genuinely upset from how his night had played out and couldn’t help but sympathize with him.

“Well, I’m here for reasons along similar lines. You could join me? Help me choreograph this new freestyle piece I’m working on?”, you had asked.

Ten cocked his eyebrow at you, clearly not expecting you to extend an olive branch to him in this manner given how you were still being snarky with him five minutes ago. But he accepted your offer nonetheless.

You both entered your element pretty quickly, letting the music move your body freely. You worked out a simple choreography, cheering for each other when you came up with a particularly impressive move. You were having fun, even though you wouldn’t admit it to yourself. At least you hadn’t thought of your ex in the last couple of hours, mind completely occupied with the thought that you and Ten surprisingly made good dance partners. Perhaps the friction between the two of you translated to great chemistry when you were dancing. Taeyong would be pleased to know that.

“I’m beat”, you exclaimed, slumping down on the floor after the final round of practice. Ten sat down next to you, resting his back against the mirrored wall. The pair of you sat wordlessly for a few minutes, letting your heartbeats slow back down. You lay flat on the floor, too physically exhausted to move. As soon as you closed your eyes, your traitorous mind brought back the images of your ex’s engagement and you groaned loudly.

“Long day?”, Ten asked, giving you a slightly concerned look. You just chuckled bitterly in response.

“Want to talk about it?”, Ten pried in an almost uncharacteristically gentle voice. You wondered if he had ever spoken to you in that tone before.

“I don’t know if we’re close enough to have little heart-to-hearts yet Ten”, you replied. There was an invisible wall between you and Ten that you were just not ready to tear down. The thought of sharing embarrassing details about your love life with someone you could consider a frenemy at best, too jarring. You didn’t miss the way Ten’s shoulders slightly slumped at that. You hadn’t meant to sound harsh, yet you felt somewhat guilty.

“But…maybe we are close enough to have a drink together?”, you asked, suddenly emboldened by a rush of confidence that confused even you. You took his cheeky smile as a yes.

You spent the rest of the night drunk and giggling with Ten. The thoughts of your ex were long forgotten. Perhaps you could learn to do more than merely tolerating Ten’s presence. Perhaps you could learn to enjoy his presence too.

Soon it became a ritual - if you and Ten were the last ones left in the studio, you would grab some beers and head to the roof. It was such strange departure from your usual selves that you often wondered why it was so easy for you to enjoy his company sitting under the stars like this when you would be at each other’s throats the rest of the time.

Over time your conversations had gone from discussions about art, to plans of travelling the world, what you were currently binge-watching on Netflix, and everything in between. Still, there were some topics that you both steered clear of - talk of family and love lives was seemingly off the table.

Until one night after a couple of drinks, when Ten pulled his phone out to show you a picture of two women, one older and one younger. The striking resemblance between the faces in the photo and Ten confirmed that they were indeed his mother and sister. His sister was clad in a dark blue graduation gown and his mother was holding a beautiful bouquet of light pink roses.

“She graduated last week, my baby sister”, Ten said practically glowing. The proud look on his face was a testament to the close relationship he had with his sibling.

“You must miss her a lot”, you said, voice barely a whisper.

“All the time. My family are my biggest supporters. I don’t think I would have had the courage to move out here on my own if it weren't for their encouragement”, Ten answered.

You hadn’t spoken to your family ever since you came to Seoul. In the past, the longing left a pressure in your chest that sometimes made it feel like your throat would close, choking you on your guilt. Now, it just left you numb.

“What about you?”, Ten asked, cautiously prying into your personal life.

“What about me?”, you countered, diverting your gaze away from the man sitting next to you, instantly wary of how much you wanted to share about your past.

“What about your family? Your old home?”, Ten asked.

It couldn’t hurt sharing with Ten, right? It’s not like what he thought of you really mattered to you. Right?

“I actually don’t keep in touch with my family any more. They weren’t too keen on me becoming a dancer. It’s been, what, three? Three and a half years since I last saw them. When I first left home for Seoul”, you said, trying your hardest to suppress any trace of emotion in your voice. You kept your gaze focused on the city skyline ahead of you, too afraid to turn and see the expression on Ten’s face. You wondered what he thought of you, whether he thought you were stubborn. Worse yet, whether he pitied you.

After a few moments, Ten broke the silence. “I guess sometimes, not having a family is better than having one that doesn’t love you for who you are. Don’t get me wrong, I can’t possibly know how you must have felt, all these years. But I want you to know that the people who love you now, love you without any agenda. Not because they are related to you by blood, not because they are obligated to love you. But because they just love you”, Ten said, eyes shining with an emotion you didn’t know how to react to.

“And they could be your family too”, he finished in a voice that was so warm, so gentle, you wondered if this really was the Ten who stole your jelly doughnuts when you first met.

You were speechless, processing his words for what felt like hours but was probably just a few seconds. Then you did the only thing your impulsive mind could think to do - you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. In response, he wrapped you up in his embrace. You stayed still, focusing on the faint scent of his cologne on the sleeves of his hoodie. You breathed out a thank you, soft as a whisper. Whether or not Ten heard you, he moved his left arm slightly, gently stroking your hair and continued to chatter on about some entirely different topic.

You knew that once the sun came back up and both of you returned to your lives inside the studio, this little moment would not be brought up in front of anyone else. That moment was just for the two of you to share and bury deep within your hearts.

You knew you were in too deep one day when Ten gave you a friendly smile in passing while making his way to the break room, and you felt your cheeks and neck heat up. You had finally let the Thai dancer charm his way into your heart.

Typical Y/N, you thought to yourself, Falling in love with any cute boy who gives you attention. But he wasn’t just any cute boy. It was Ten. Ten, your frenemy turned close confidant. Ten, who would send you pictures of cute animals he saw on the street just because you once told him you wanted to adopt a cat. Ten, who took you dancing to a club in Hongdae when you were feeling low and all but carried your drunk ass back to your home. Ten, who over the last couple of months had heard every single one of your deepest insecurities and had still chosen to stick by you. Ten who had just left a box of jelly doughnuts in the break room, next to a post-it note with your name on it. To make matters worse, you were supposed to start working on a new collaboration together this week, a contemporary piece set to an R&B slow jam. How were you meant to work with him all week when you could barely make eye contact with him? You had to physically restrain yourself from facepalming.

You spent the week, evading conversation with him beyond work and some small talk to fill the silence. But none of your usual banter. You had even turned down his suggestion to grab dinner together several times that week, to the point that even typically non-confrontational Sicheng had picked up that something was off.

“Why have you been avoiding Ten all week? I thought you guys had given up fighting?”, Sicheng asked after he cornered you one day.

“Avoiding him? Now, why would I do that when we’ve been working together all week?”, you had chuckled nervously, desperately looking for an out from this conversation.

“He’s been sulking around since Tuesday, Y/N. He said he doesn’t know what he did to upset you”, Sicheng had asked you sharply.

The guilt in your eyes must have been apparent because Sicheng dropped his voice into a gentle whisper for what he said next.

“I know the two of you are as good at dancing around your feelings as you are at dancing on stage. But maybe try talking to him, Y/N? I think right now, you two might have more in common than you think”, Sicheng told you as he gave you a knowing look.

The day of the performance shoot came and there was a noticeable awkwardness between you and Ten. You decided to cut the tension by apologizing to him, citing the nerves for the performance as the reason you had been on edge the whole week. Whether or not Ten believed you, he accepted your apology and wrapped you up in his arms. You wished you had psychic abilities so you could read his mind. Did he have the same butterflies in his stomach right now?

As soon as the music started any nervousness you felt around Ten melted away. Dancing with him was like second nature to you by now. The song started with you on stage alone, dancing under the single spotlight illuminating the stage. You could see him out of the corner of your eyes, following your every move and observing you with nothing short of adoration. You left the stage for Ten’s solo and you could feel the goosebumps on your skin from watching him perform. He was absolutely stunning, moving fluidly through the movements as though he was painting with his body on the canvas of the stage. You joined him on stage for the chorus, dancing apart but facing one another as though mirroring the other’s movements. Through the bridge you inched closer and closer to one another. You felt your heartbeat beginning to rise from the proximity.

Both of you could communicate with each other with your eyes alone. You danced perfectly in sync with one another, pulling apart only to fall right back into each other, just like magnets. So different yet inseparable. You could see it in his eyes, when he looked at you, that the emotion in his mirrored yours. You knew you weren’t imagining it when he audibly gasped as you melted into his embrace for the final move. His heartbeat was racing a hundred miles an hour, just like yours. The pair of you stood there, lips just a few millimeters apart, breathing deeply as the studio erupted into thunderous applause. You were no longer afraid to admit to yourself and to the world, that you had it bad for Ten Lee.

And when he kissed you on the rooftop that night, you knew that he had it bad for you too.

#ten #ten scenarios #ten angst #ten fluff #ten imagines #nct #wayv #nct ten #wayv ten #nct scenarios #nct imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #nct angst #nct fluff #wayv angst #wayv fluff #moonrise

155 notes · View notes

jancmalandra · 3 years

Text

The Shipwreck

On the temptation to return to old ambitions

By mid-May Snufkin and Moomintroll had started mounting occasional expeditions into the wildernesses of Moominvalley for themselves and the children of the village again, as they had done every Spring and Summer since Moomintroll and Snork Maiden's children turned six. They would spread the word of their latest hike a few days before they set out, inviting any child who wished to join them. They would always find a fair number of children waiting for them in front of Moominhouse on the morning that they planned to leave. The children would have their backpacks packed in case the hike lasted more than a day.

Little My never missed these expeditions as they provided excellent opportunities for mischief and excitement. On the twenty-sixth of May Moominvalley was struck by a very powerful storm. The next day Little My immediately suggested to Moomintroll and Snufkin that they mount an expedition to the beach to search for treasures that might have washed up on the shore as soon as possible. The two of them readily agreed and sent Little My to spread the word that they would leave in three days, and then they began to pack for the trip.

The morning of the twenty-ninth came and Moomintroll, Snufkin, Tayberry, Moomin and Little My said goodbye to Snork Maiden, Moominpapa, and Moominmama and stepped out of the front door to see who had joined them. Boyle, Bristol, and Auguste were at the forefront of the small crowd of children as usual. Gerard, Peter, and Martin were right behind them in their finest hunting gear. Hiding behind Gerard was a welcome new addition, Snork and Sniff's adopted son, Snerf. He was clearly doing his best to be brave and ready for adventure and had a determined look on his face. Gerard had clearly made fast friends with the little monster and was acting as his strongest supporter.

Moomintroll and Snufkin looked at each other and silently decided together not to take undue note of Snerf joining them so that he wouldn't feel singled out and uncomfortable.

"Alright everyone!", said Snufkin, "Let's head out for the beach!"

The children and Little My lined up behind him and Moomintroll and they all began marching down the path to the beach, talking cheerily amongst themselves and occasionally striking up a song. When they reached the beach, they saw a very promising sight: there was driftwood and other assorted flotsam everywhere.

Little My was the first to begin inspecting and sorting through the debris and all the children quickly joined her. Gerard and Snerf made their way up the boardwalk to the bathhouse to get a better look at the full expanse of the beach. Snerf climbed to the top of the bathhouse in an instant and looked carefully in all directions. His large, green eyes suddenly widened in surprise and then delight. He forgot to be afraid in his excitement and rushed over to Moomintroll and Snufkin who were observing all the children with contented nostalgia from the top of the beach.

"Mr. Moomintroll, sir!", he said, jumping up and down, "There's been huge rock slide on the cliff just a few miles down the beach! It looks like a really big cave has been opened up! Can we check it out?!"

"Most definitely!", said Moomintroll. Then he called out to Little My and the other children, "Everyone! A new cave has opened up further down the beach! Everyone get into The Adventure and we'll sail there!"

Everyone quickly obeyed Moomintroll's instructions and piled into the boat. Moomintroll untied the mooring rope and he and Snufkin rowed The Adventure away from the bathouse. They raised the sail and the wind, which was a little strong, immediately filled it and they headed towards the cave. As they drew closer, the cave became more and more enticing. The large boulders that once sealed off the cave were strewn here and there in the bay, peaking out just above the level of the surf. Snufkin lowered the sail, and he and Moomintroll took up the oars and rowed around the boulders carefully and into the huge mouth of the cave.

The morning sunlight poured into the cave, making it very easy to see everything in it. The first sight that greeted the crew of The Adventure was a very old pirate ship which had been left at anchor in the middle of the large pool of water that took up most of the cave. Moomintroll and Snufkin rowed around the ship, confirming that the hull was still completely intact and to look for a way to board the ship. They saw a boarding ladder hanging from the deck rail, the bottom of which was hanging just out of their reach. Gerard and Snerf whispered back and forth urgently between themselves for maybe thirty seconds and then Gerard climbed onto Snerf's back and Snerf climbed the mast of The Adventure and leapt onto the boarding ladder. They reached the deck of the pirate ship and let the boarding ladder the rest of the way down. Everyone quickly joined them on the deck and gaped in wonder at the wreck for several minutes.

The ship was a three-masted schooner and it was in amazingly good condition for its age. The masts were broken and the sails were long gone, but that seemed to be the worst of the damage. The paint had almost entirely chipped away from every surface, but all the wood seemed intact and strong. The door to the quarterdeck in the ship's stern swung back and forth with the tide, almost like an invitation to come in. The door to the lower decks was in the middle of the deck and was wide open.

"Well, it would be rude to refuse such a polite invitation!", declared Snufkin as he detached his small camping lantern from his backpack and lit it, "Boyle, Bristol, Auguste, Peter and Martin, let's explore the lower decks! Moomintroll, you take everyone else and explore the quarterdeck!", and with that Snufkin led his group down the steps to the gun deck.

Moomin and Tayberry immediately ran through the door to the captain's quarters in the quarterdeck, and Moomintroll, Little My, Gerard, and Snerf stayed together on the main deck near the helm. Moomintroll fiddled distractedly with the wheel, which was clearly no longer connected to the rudder, staring dreamily at the whole ship. Little My pulled forcefully at his elbow, bringing him back to his senses.

"Oh! Little My!" exclaimed Moomintroll, "I thought that you were with Snufkin! Surely you want to explore the hold and see whether there's still any treasure to be found?"

"There's plenty of time for that later! Besides, the pirates almost certainly made off with their treasure after hiding their ship here. I want to have a word with you before Snufkin comes back and tries to stop me. You know very well that you've been dreaming of something like this falling into your lap since you were little! Everyone here is thinking the same thing as you; 'Let's fix up this ship and go on a really big adventure around the world!' If you fail to seize control of this project right now, I'm going to lose any slight respect for you that I might have ever had! Your whole life, you've always given in to what other people wanted from you! If Snufkin hadn't fallen in love with you, you'd never have gone after him, Snork Maiden would have eventually forced you to marry her and forced Snufkin out of your lives and you'd have willingly spent the rest of your life being miserable just to please her! You need to finally stand up for yourself and take this ship for yourself! You know that you've more than earned it!", said Little My angrily, forcing Moomintroll back one step with every sentence.

"First of all, Little My, I know that you know Snork Maiden better than that, and that you don't have such a low opinion of her! Secondly, I thought that you had been plotting for ages before the three of us came together to force us to realize how we really felt about our relationship! Thirdly, all of us here found this ship, not just me, and we all get a say in what we're going to do with it! Lastly, I ended up getting everything I ever dreamed of by NOT forcing my wishes upon those I love!", said Moomintroll just as forcefully as Little My, which took her very much by surprise.

Snufkin and the other children reemerged from below and Moomin and Tayberry exited the captain's quarters at that very moment, breaking up their argument.

"Snufkin!", said Moomintroll eagerly, "How are things down there?"

"It all looks very promising. We should only need to do some basic repairs and repaint the whole ship to get her seaworthy again. Of course, we'll need to find a way to pitch the canons overboard. They're beyond repair to begin with and we're not going to be needing them. Also, the hold is totally empty. Not so much as a doubloon to seen, thank The Booble!", said Snufkin.

"Gather 'round everyone!", said Moomintroll loudly, "I know that you're all thinking what Snufkin and I are: 'Can we repair this ship and take it out on adventures?' It's entirely up to all you children. You found this ship, so what it becomes is your choice. I'll help you only as much as you want me to and we'll only go as fast you like."

The children all cheered joyously and immediately climbed back into The Adventure and began excitedly discussing their plans. Little My was the last to board The Adventure and she sat fuming silently in the stern the entire trip back to the boardwalk leading to the bathhouse. Snufkin and Moomintroll brought up the rear of the group as they all headed back to Moominhouse.

Snufkin put his paw lovingly in Moomintroll's and said, "I'm very proud of how well you handled that. I can guess how hard it was for you to hand over that ship to the children. I can also guess why you and Little My aren't on speaking terms right now. If you want to talk about it, Snork Maiden and I will always be there for you anytime you need us. You know that very well, don't you?"

"Thank you, Snufkin!", said Moomintroll a little tearfully, and he kissed him tenderly, "I really do need to talk about it once we get back to Moominhouse and we have some time to ourselves!"

To Be Continued

#moomin #snufkin #moomintroll #snufmin #moominvalley #little my #moomin oc #moomin fanfiction

19 notes · View notes

blazerina · 4 years

Text

Hundreds of Tomorrows - (Mal x MC) - Blades of Light & Shadows

Hundreds of Tomorrows

Word Count: 3053

A/N: This is a little thing that I picture starting and happening before Nia, Tyril and MC (Raine) go behind the glass wall where only those with magic can pass. This was from chapter 11 (I think?) when they’re in the catacombs. I’m not very good at remembering details from the chapters.

I took a few liberties to change up what exactly happened behind the wall so it’s not exactly in line with the rest of BOLAS (please don’t hate me or send me messages about how wrong I am). Also, I freaking LOVE Threep and his banter/relationship with Mal.

This story comes at the request of @choicesobsessed who sent a prompt for “Is that blood? ...No?” from a prompt list I posted a while ago. It fit perfectly with this idea I already had so ta-da!

Hope everyone reading this is doing well and staying safe! Please enjoy!

xoxo

“Kit, a word please?” Mal said inquisitively, his eyebrow raised in mock curiosity. He motioned for Raine to follow him to a more secluded area.

“Keep your voice down.” He instructed as Raine followed him.

“Keep my voice down?” She questioned.

“You do realize the rest of the group is right over there…”

Mal sighed in agitation.

“Okay then, m’lady, let’s talk behind this here rock. Is that better?”

The two of them circled around a rather large boulder that was still not much further from the group.

“Oh much. Much better.” She smirked. “What’s your deal? We don’t have a lot of time and we need to check out what’s behind that magic wall.”

“Are you sure about this?” Mal asked, searching her eyes for the truth. “I mean like, really, totally, 100% sure?”

“Sure about what?” Raine asked, confused.

“Going behind the magic wall with only elf-boy to protect you? I don’t think it’s safe.” Mal cut right to the point.

“Ooohhh….” Raine teased. “I see what this is about…”

She folded her arms in front of her chest and leaned back against the rock that was supposedly concealing their conversation.

“Nothing. It’s not about anything.” Mal squinted his eyes in frustration, stumbling a little bit and working very hard to make his point. He didn’t want to be obvious, but apparently he was failing miserably.

“Mmhmm.” Raine scoffed. “Listen, I don’t only have Tyril to protect me. Nia is coming and so is Threep.”

“Raine.”

Mal looked down his nose at her, wishing she would realize this was actually not a time to joke. For him to be serious meant it really indeed was…serious.

“You cannot be serious. You think that cat-bat is going to be able to save you?”

“He is a nesper, Mal, not a cat-bat. You really need to stop calling him that. And I don’t know why you’re wasting my time right now.”

She stood up straighter, ready to confront him.

“We will be safe. Everything is fine. You’re acting this way mainly because you don’t want to be left here with Imtura AND you’re afraid of missing out on adventure. You’re upset that you’re not being included.”

Mal’s mouth hung open ready to protest, but Raine quickly closed the space between them kissed him on the cheek. She lingered a little bit and whispered in his ear.

“But I do think it’s awfully cute you’re so protective of me.”

She pulled away, looking him in the eye and giving him a quick wink, before walking away.

“Raine!”

Mal called out.

“Wait!”

She turned around, shoulders slumped, groaning in frustration. “What is it now?!”

“Just, be careful. Please. I…I don’t like not going in there with you…if anything happened – I – I –“

Raine stopped joking around, once she realized the serious tone Mal was using.

“Don’t worry – I’ll come back to you.” She nodded, confirming what she just said.

Raine then jogged towards Nia and Tyril who were waiting at the entrance to the wall.

“Look lover boy, I know that you’re smitten with our very own land rat, but you have got to calm down.”

Imtura was perched on top of a large black rock while Mal paced nervously back and forth in front of her, tossing a small pebble up and down.

“If you don’t stop tossing that ridiculous little rock, I’m going to smash you one more time into that magic wall and leave you for dead.”

Mal ignored her, continued pacing, but did at least stop tossing the rock.

“See here – there’s one thing that us sneaky humans have over your orc tribe. We have this sixth sense. This gut feeling about things. And I’m telling you something’s not right about all this. Any of this…it’s just really, really messed up…”

Mal was suddenly distracted looking deep into the eyes of a half-charred statue looking rock that had grabbed his attention.

“I mean, what the hell is that? This is not normal.” He said as he gestured to the piece of art he found.

“Nothing about this is normal. Pull your head out of your arse, boy. Look around you – has anything we’ve experienced the past few weeks been normal?

If you’re looking for normal you best leave now because it’s only going to get weirder if you ask me…” Imtura spat, picking something out of her jowls.

Mal mad a face, clearly disgusted by her behavior. “You’re one of a kind, you know that, Im?”

He wiped his hands along the front of his vest, suddenly feeling dirty. He huffed loudly as he plopped down on the ground.

“When are they going to be baaaack?!” He whined, keeping his eyes closed. “This is the worst!”

“That’s them. Mal!” Imtura was laughing, happy to see the rest of their crew. “They’re alive. They made it. Here they come!”

Threep was leading the crew, actually using his wings to fly, and hovering a little bit in front of everyone.

“Mal before you see her you need to know that…”

“I am fine!” Raine called from the back of the group leaning on Tyril and limping a bit. She was holding her side and trying her best not to grimace.

“Raine? What happened? Is she okay? Are you okay?”

Tyril gingerly helped Raine to sit down, Nia followed and tried to console Mal.

“She really is fine, Mal. I can heal her, don’t worry. I just need a moment…”

“Is that blood?!” Mal asked, pointing to Raine’s side where a dark spot had begun to form beneath her hands.

“…No?” Raine lied, not wanting to upset him.

“Why is everyone more worried about Mal than the actual person who is injured?!” Threep squawked still flying above everyone else.

“Fix her. Fix her now.” Mal ordered, looking at Nia. “Do it. Let’s go – why are we waiting around?”

“I don’t want her to.” Raine’s voice was raised slightly and forceful.

“We do need to make a decision. We got what we came for, it’s time we head back. The longer we are here the longer we are in danger.” Tyril explained, adding pressure to the current situation.

“Mal – calm down.” Raine hissed, through gritted teeth, obviously in pain. “We need to get out of here. I don’t want Nia wasting life on me and I know I can make it. Let’s go.”

Mal tried to protest but Raine shot him down immediately with a cold and hard stare.

He resigned himself to the fact that Raine was not changing her mind.

“Let me help…” he tried to loop her arm around his shoulder, but Raine was stubborn.

“Raine – are you sure?” Tyril asked one final time.

Nia was nervously biting her lip, Imtura was staying quiet and Threep was nosing through Raine’s bag while the rest of them looked to one another to make a decision.

“Too bad jerky doesn’t make you feel better like it does me.” He chuckled, his head popping up out of the bag with a mouthful.

The entire group swiveled their heads to scowl at him.

Threep began to nervously laugh as he lowered himself back into the bag. “Wrong time to joke?” He asked, retreating quickly.

“Why does everyone keep asking if I’m sure?” Raine growled. “First Mal, now you, Tyril. Have I ever not known my own mind?”

“Don’t answer that.” Threep instructed from inside Raine’s bag. Imtura had taken ownership of the satchel so that Raine wouldn’t be saddled with it.

The group walked in silence most of the way back to the Starfury house. Everyone was exhausted from the information they had found out about Kaya and the news they’d now be looking for a shard at the masquerade the next day. It seemed as though this troupe would never know a moment of rest – they continued on from one adventure to another in their quest against the Shadow Court.

Once they arrived at the manor, it was without question that each one of them would retire to their quarters in order to sleep well and rest before the ball. Without saying a word, all of them with the exception of Raine, communicated with each other, proving their trust and reliance on their teammates.

Imtura checked on Threep once more before handing the bag to Mal and telling everyone goodnight. Tyril nodded as he passed Raine over to him as well.

“She’s all yours.” He muttered under his breath.

“Raine, be well. I’m just down the hall if you need anything.” Nia cooed, almost prancing along the way to her room.

“I’ll take it from here.” Mal nodded, standing behind Raine.

She turned to look at him and arched an eyebrow. “What exactly are you taking where?”

“Lead the way, kit. I’m just gonna make sure you’re all tucked in, then you’ll be rid of me.”

Once to her room, Mal helped Threep out of the bag, accepting his content purring as thanks.

“Yeah yeah, calm down you crossbreed.” Mal stood up and waited by the door for Raine to get settled.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, still holding her side.

“I’m not going to ask about it because I quite like my head being attached to my body…” Mal began.

Raine tried not to smile but she couldn’t help it. Being alone with Mal always made her feel better.

“I’ll be leaving you alone now if you’re all right. Did the bleeding actually stop?” He questioned, opening the door, about to leave.

“I’m not sure.” Raine said softly, suddenly preoccupied with the hem of her shirt. “I think…I think I need your help.”

“I’m sorry. What was that? Not sure I heard you correctly. Did you say you…you need my help?” Mal teased, closing the door and moving closer to her on the bed.

“Mal. Now isn’t the time. This is hard for me.” Raine answered, truthfully.

“Ah. Forgive me – it’s a real bucket of rainbows and sunshine for me right now too.” He tried to joke, sitting down next to her on the bed.

Silence hung in the air heavy and weighted as they stared stoically at one another. She looked at him and cursed herself for making him feel bad when all he was trying to do earlier was show he cared. He looked at her hoping she would one day understand just what she meant to him.

Clearing his throat, his voice weak and coming out more like a hoarse whisper, Mal asked, “What, um…what can I help you with? What do you need?”

“I need you to look at the wound and see if the bleeding has stopped.” Rain responded, snapping out of her silent reverie.

Her mind had suddenly travelled to the memory of Mal’s lips on hers and their skin touching together, the fire it created. This fire was not like the magic she was learning to make; it was different. Hotter. Deeper. Less fleeting. More substantial and real.

Mal nodded as Raine pulled her shirt up slightly, to reveal a small gash about an inch and a half long. The bleeding had stopped, and it didn’t appear to be deep but Mal could not know for sure.

“It’s no longer bleeding but that is the only thing I’m certain of.” He held her hand now, trying his best to be soft and caring.

“Do you have medicine?” He asked, suddenly standing up. “In your bag, the salve you’ve made before. Do you have any of it left?”

Raine was struggling to stay awake, so tired and fatigued from the day’s events and now weak due to her injury. She mumbled something as her eyes started to close.

“Raine! Raine. Stay with me for just a little bit longer.” Mal was pulling item after item out of Raine’s bag.

“A stinger? You saved this from the Drakna?” He asked, completely dumbfounded as he pulled more and more random things from her satchel.

“Good gods you can hold a lot of stuff in here!” Mal smiled, looking at her now laying down on the bed.

“Huzzah! I found it!” He shouted triumphantly and held the small bottle up above his head as though it was the most sought-after treasure in the land.

Proud of himself, he sat down next to her on the bed as she was still fighting sleep.

“C’mere girl. Just hold still. That’s it.”

He softly applied the cream to her injury, rubbing around the edges as tenderly as his calloused fingers would allow.

“I’m sorry if it hurts.” He whispered, watching her face for any reaction. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was steady.

Finding an old piece of cloth in her bag, Mal poured more of the salve on the rag and was able to tie it off around Raine’s small waist. She was quiet and compliant.

“I don’t know that I’ve ever seen you stay completely silent before, kit. It’s kind of nice.” He mocked, drawing a big smile from the girl.

“Mal. That’s enough. Thank you. I’m quite settled now.”

He was now going through some drawers in a large armoir found in the corner of Raine’s room. Finding what he was looking for he tossed a long white nightgown on the bed.

“This’ll do. You need to change – I won’t look.”

“Yes, you will.” Raine challenged. “I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.”

“You’re probably right…” He scratched his chin, deep in thought about what he might see if he kept his eyes open.

Snapping himself out of it, he continued.

“…but here, I’ll help and then when you need me too I’ll look away. I promise.” He said those last two words with a sincerity Raine wasn’t sure existed in him.

“As I’ve said before, you do continue to surprise me, Mal the Rogue.”

Raine chuckled lightly, pulling the shirt she was wearing over her head. She winced a bit and Mal assisted as best he could, closing his eyes and turning his head away when she disrobed completely.

Mal helped her back into bed having turned down the covers, letting her head settle on two pillows, getting her under the blankets and stuffing her in tight.

Threep was out like a light in the corner, snoring loudly. Mal made note of it but decided against a comment, trying instead to focus all his attention on Raine.

“Thank you.” She whispered, looking up at him before her eyes closed for the night. “For all of this. I don’t deserve it after the way I treated you, today. Really.”

“Now, now. I’m sure I’ll find a way for you to make it up to me sometime soon.”

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “Will you stay with me, please?” She mumbled, falling into a rhythmic sleep almost immediately.

“Yes!” Mal fist pumped instinctively, getting what he had hoped for.

He said a silent prayer of thanks to the gods and walked around the bed to the other side. He laid down his weapons but as he took off his boots, realized again just how loud Threep was snoring. He threw one of his boots at him, waking the nesper up with a hiss.

“What was that for?!” Threep was more than agitated.

“You’re snoring!” Mal whispered harshly. “I’m staying the night and I need to get some shuteye.”

“You’re staying the night?” Threep’s eyes grew wide. “I should have gone with Imtura.”

“Yeah, you should have.” Mal quipped, “She’s the only one of the group who snores louder than you and wouldn’t be bothered.”

Threep stood up, made three circles and laid back down again, nestling against the wall and falling asleep again with a loud and dramatic huff.

Mal worked to get into bed but was careful not to disturb Raine. He stayed on top of the covers that Raine was underneath. He quickly realized in his effort to prop her up on the pillows, that meant there weren’t any left on the bed. So he got out of bed once again and grabbed the satchel to rest his head upon.

He sighed to himself with his hands resting on his stomach, content to be settled next to Raine, knowing she was okay, and most of all, that she wanted him to be with her, at least for tonight.

Realizing the adrenaline of this moment was keeping him awake, he rolled over onto his side to stare at the sleeping woman next to him.

“Will I stay?” Mal said quietly as his eyes took in her features.

He loved the light freckles that danced over her face, beneath her eyes and over the bridge of her nose. The way her lips were a soft shade of pink and her cheeks a natural rose; her golden hair in a tight braid that always rested on one side of her head, exposing the area of her neck that he knew he’d love to kiss over and over again.

Mal could not believe himself. He had never felt anything like these intense feelings. He was in shock that he already felt so strongly for someone he didn’t really know all that well.

He was completely certain that he loved the feeling of her hand in his. And he knew something was real if he was truthfully scared to think of anything happening to her when he wasn’t around to protect her.

He reached across her and took her hand once again, then softly and sweetly laced his fingers in between hers, his thumb rubbing small smoothing circles across her knuckles.

“What are you doing to me, kit? You may be making an honest man out of me…and I have never, ever, wanted to be one of those until now…”

He brought her hand to his lips and let them linger there for a while. He didn’t want to take his gaze off her for fear something would happen to change the moment, to change the way she felt about him, to change their relationship, if that’s indeed what it was.

He silently brushed a single tendril of hair off her face and leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

“Will I stay, Raine?” He whispered, smiling to himself.

“That’s not even a question. I will stay tonight and hundreds of tomorrows if you’ll have me, sweet girl.”

#blazerina babbles #mal x mc #mc x mal #mal volari #bolas #blades of light and shadow #mal the rogue #mal the magnificent

63 notes · View notes

canyouhearthelight · 4 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 76

Whew! Enormous Family Dinner is finally done!

This took 2 more chapters than I originally planned, but I feel that holds pretty true for any good conversation you have among your found family... it just never wants to stop!

As always, thank you to @satan-parisienne for being so very, very patient with my ‘hurry up and wait’ style of requesting feedback, especially while you haven’t felt the greatest. You are far better at pointing out “yeah, but this makes sense to LITERALLY NO ONE ELSE” than anyone I will ever know. Also, @baelpenrose for helping me nail some of the dialogue, along with keeping me on track with all the bits and bobs I try to include in a single chapter. Between the two of you, I feel like a better writer every day.

To give an idea of how crazy this chapter was to write, content warnings include mentions of:

Food Painfully spicy food Witches (non specific) Burning witches (the fact it happened) Sex (non explicit) Drugs Paranoia Food aversions

To be clear, none of this occurs on screen with the exception of the foods. But it is all referenced in the conversation within the chapter, so just in case I wanted to make sure to mention it here. I also tried to tag it all.

I managed to calm myself down while Conor and Maverick dragged Sam to get more food. As I wiped the last of the tears from my eyes, Alistair was dutifully telling Arthur some of my more humorous antics. The dry humor and deadpan delivery threatened to put a smile on my long-lost friend’s face.

“It was ginger tea, not green tea,�� came Tyche’s voice and she snatched a curried-vegetable wellington out of my hand. Stuffing it in her face, she turned to the teacher-cum-warlord-cum-teacher. “If you ever do or say anything unpleasant to my sister, if you make her even the tiniest bit uncomfortable, I will end you,” she advised jovially.

“I can’t exactly return that threat,” he pointed out, nonplussed. “I probably know more about your reputation than anyone on this ship except Sophia, and I’m not brain-dead enough to think you’re going to hurt her.” He paused before clarifying. “Necessary kicks in the ass notwithstanding. Hey - “

“You have to earn that privilege, professor,” she interrupted. Draping herself over a chair - there weren’t any arms, how was she doing that? - she turned to me. “I like Parvati. Guerilla protest artist in the body of a goddess.”

“Fortunately, humanity progressed past a point where we burn witches at the stake,” Arthur rued in agreement. “Otherwise, I’m pretty sure Ms. Fletcher wouldn’t have made it out of infancy.”

“Certainly no Refugee Guernica,” I agreed with a sigh.

Grey sat down and nodded a greeting before adding “I have come to burn your fields and steal all your women.”

“Our dear Councillor Kalloe certainly seems to worship at that altar,” Alistair commented before I could stop sputtering at the sudden show of humor. His face was entirely innocent when our heads whipped around collectively. “What? There is not enough soundproofing in the several galaxies - “

A dark hand swatted at his face as Derek objected. “Not in front of the dumplings,” he signed before swatting at Alistair some more.

“As a former warlord, I feel like I should object to that,” Arthur directed at Grey. “I mean, I may have burned a few fields, but I never stole all the women…”

I sighed with feigned wistfulness. “I don’t think Parvati had to steal anyone. They probably marched behind her happily, with desperately high hopes.”

Several nods exchanged around the table before Arthur cleared his throat. “Speaking of witches…” He glanced pointedly at Tyche. “I managed to find something from Earth already in the consoles, and I am well aware that Sophia is insane about spice.” More than I did, my sister immediately perked up. “This is something I got to try exactly once in the Before, and it’s definitely not for the faint of heart.”

“Berbere,” I murmured. I could remember him telling me about it afterward. It was the hottest thing he had eaten in his life, at least at the time.

He nodded in confirmation. “Exactly. But, just a warning before anyone rushes off to try this: it isn’t just spicy in the Scoville sense, this is spicy in the Dune sense of the word.”

A few confused looks exchanged around the table. I threw looks at both Tyche and Arthur asking for permission before explaining. “In the fiction series Dune, there is a drug that is only found naturally on a planet called Arrakis. The drug is nootropic, anti-gerial, and mutagenic, primarily allowing for expanded consciousness, ability to understand fifth and sixth dimensional navigation, and in limited cases, ancestral memory. Although the actual name of the drug is melange, the common name is simply ‘spice’.”

Arthur mimed applause; he had heard me mention my tendency to spout information like a walking encyclopedia, but this was the first time he had seen it in person.

The confused looks cleared up slightly, but there were still more than I would have liked. Grey gently raised a hand for attention. “And… You actually want to eat this?”

I nodded fervently, as did Tyche, although Arthur tilted his head back and forth. “I mean… I believe after the meal I… experienced… I used the phrase ‘what unholy fire did I just put into my body’, but hey. It was delicious, even if the experience was a little closer to fiery transcendence than was altogether comfortable.”

Tyche snorted. “Burning witches at the stake, you mean?”

Ahhh… that was why talking about Parvati made him think of berbere.

“Just don’t give it to Derek, I’m begging you,” he responded. “This is not the ‘understanding eyes of kindly folk who burned witches alive to save their souls’ kind of thing. This is more ‘being consumed in the unholy fire of the most delicious thing you can imagine and seeing the fabric of reality in the process’ kind of thing.” Shuddering dramatically, he glanced at Derek. “Something tells me you would try to hack reality, and we kind of need that to just keep working right now.”

A sudden expression crossed Tyche’s face that I could only describe as looking like the physical manifestation of a click-noise. “Transcendent… I’ve noticed several people on the Ark - and I mean easily over a hundred - acting strange lately. This can’t be related, can it?”

My neck ached in sympathy for the way it would have snapped around, had I not been facing her already. “You’ve noticed it, too?”

Derek tapped the table emphatically, requesting our attention. “Noticed what?”

“People have been unusually antisocial,” Tyche clarified. “Instead of greeting strangers, they look at me skeptically when I say hi.”

I nodded in agreement. “Even people who were very casually friendly in the last year or so, suddenly just nod and duck away to whisper furtively. It would be one thing if I had done something that clearly had a negative impact on the crew, but… I mean, I even see people who are carrying portable habitats for Else eyeing me weirdly.”

If Arthur had cats’ ears, I swear they would have been pricked as far forward as possible - for someone who was suspicious as a default, he looked curious enough to die for the satisfaction of an answer. “How large are these groups? Have you noticed any frequent meetings? Do you ever see people from several groups interacting? Are they quieter when you - or any other outsiders, I guess - approach? Is it always the same people?”

My head spun as I tried to parse out answers. The questions had come rapid-fire, and I realized abruptly that Arthur, for all our digital interaction in the Before, wasn’t used to my auditory processing issues.

Thankfully, our Knights of the Dinner Table arrived from a successful quest, laden with several plates of tidbits and small cups of hot soup. Tyche and I glanced at each other, silently agreeing to suspend the discussion of odd behaviors, before I spoke. “Soup isn’t on the menu, guys.”

“Special request,” Sam insisted carefully. “We all like miso, and it helps digestion.” Without waiting for approval, he took one bowl, scooped all the tofu out and added it to a second bowl, and handed the first bowl to Derek. “No mushy,” he promised sincerely.

I restrained the urge to gape. Never had I seen Sam assert himself like that, and it honestly made me insanely happy to watch. Looking around the table, I saw the slightest twitch of Grey’s mouth. “It is very healthy to be clear about what you want, and builds friendships when you do so for others.”

So they were the culprit behind Sam coming out of his shell. Interesting. “Cheers to insurrection,” I murmured, toasting with my half-gone bloody mary.

“And soup,” Maverick added cheerfully as he accepted the cup with extra tofu.

Not even bothering with the spoon, Conor actually toasted with his soup before downing it in one swallow. “Slainte.”

Thankfully, Tyche and Grey both took much more graceful sips from their small bowls.

Quickly, I sent a message to Arthur to send his questions in writing so that I could answer them fully. Derek also made quick gestures with his datapad, seemingly asking the same thing.

Everyone ignored Derek slipping half his bao back on Sam’s plate.

<< Prev Masterlist Next >>

#the miys #humans are weird #found family #original scifi #original fiction #aliens #apocalypse #tw: food #tw: witches #tw: spicy food #tw: witch burning #tw: drugs #tw: paranoia

73 notes · View notes

chookity-dookity · 5 years

Text

the sixth key

Well. There were a lotta balls in the air in this finale, and while it was a magnificent attempt at juggling, some of them definitely got dropped.

BOLO I honestly don’t know why they even bothered with the whole “Bolo might be evil” thing, because they really didn’t do anything with it. And as amusing as that whole gag about Oracsus and Jill was, it ultimately served to undermine the otherworldly creepiness of the Titans.

I will say, I do appreciate that Bolo is shown to be not entirely good. “I��m going to kill them all” obviously raises some red flags, but more than that, the fact that he withheld extremely crucial information about the sixth key is also pretty sketch. His justification for doing so (”you wouldn’t have come”) is probably true, but also pretty frickin cold. Bolo might not be evil--but he is manipulative. Now that he’s been freed, I hope we get to explore this side of him a bit more in S3.

NIGHTFALL Oh, Nightfall. I saw this coming from about a mile away but I’m still disappointed. #NightfallDeservedBetter

ASH Ash’s relationship with Nightfall was subtle, but honestly one of the stronger elements of this season. Her reaction to Nightfall’s death was absolutely heartbreaking. It was also a nice callback to Chapter 13 to see this moment be the catalyst that unlocked her new powers, foreshadowing a potential future arc for Ash. That being said...

AVOCATO Having Ash suddenly discover that she can blast Invictus out of people was just about the least satisfying resolution to the Invicato arc possible. All that emotional build-up, with this really intense relationship drama, and then... it’s just kinda fixed?

It does open us up to the possibility of exploring Avocato’s dark side in a more serious way--an Avocato entirely under his own power, not influenced by Invictus--but frankly right now I am skeptical. This season has had some pretty intense mood whiplash with Avocato, and honestly... honestly. They could do literally anything with him at this point and it’d make about as much sense as what they’ve done so far. He’s dead, he’s alive, he has amnesia, he’s possessed, he’s back again--it all just feels hollow and empty at this point. I hate to say this, because I actually feel like he has the potential to be one of the more interesting characters on the show, but I just don’t care about Avocato anymore. It’s too hard to stay emotionally invested when stuff keeps happening for no discernible reason and the consequences clearly don’t matter.

SHERYL The Sheryl-demption was unexpected but not unwelcome. It resolved a touch quickly for my tastes, but that’s hardly the most egregious offense of this episode. As much as she’s always resented Gary, it’s also clear that Sheryl was emotionally affected by their confrontation in Chapter 22. So while her decision to switch sides was definitely fast, it didn’t feel totally unearned. Plus, there’s still a lot of room for further development of her relationship with Gary.

UN-FOUND FAMILIES With both Sheryl and Avocato added into the mix, we’ve now got two bio-parents on the crew. So that’s definitely gonna shake up the space family dynamic in S3, though heaven help me I don’t know what on earth they’re planning on doing with either one of them.

FOX This episode continued in the pattern of hinting at more Fox backstory, but stopped short of giving us any real information. He’s a delightful character, but unfortunately he remains something of a mystery box. I hope he finally gets some real development next season.

AIRSPEED If Gary’s relationship with Mooncake was the emotional core of the first season, then his relationship with Quinn was probably the emotional core of the second. Which is a pretty ballsy move considering that Quinn was in all of two scenes this entire season. But they leaned heavily on the alternate timelines stuff this time around, which did give their relationship a certain weight, even if it didn’t directly get much screentime.

I’m still mad about the ending, but on a more objective level I have to admit that it was the clear highlight of this episode. It was one of the strongest scenes of the season--and possibly even of the entire show. The animation was beautiful, the music was beautiful, and it managed to strike exactly the right tone--melancholy and hopeful and ominous all at once. I mean... damn. I haven’t been this emotionally affected by something in a long time.

#some stars I guess?#I don't even know #I loved it but I also hated it #ask me again in a few weeks #final space #fs spoilers #the sixth key #episode thoughts and analysis

64 notes · View notes

sidereal-fantasies · 4 years

Text

My Neverland

[Lee Minhyuk]

Scenario Time! w/ Siren!Reader

Genre: Royalty AU (Continuation?), still not fluff

WARNING(S): Like always, if you stumble upon anything you think is a trigger, please tell me so I can tag it up here. Other than that, IMPLIED DEATH

Sypnosis: Prince Minhyuk always knew that he never wanted to be confined to the castle walls. However, he still has yet to find his neverland away from a crumbling home.

If Hyungwon was the delicate rose of the kingdom, Minhyuk was the tempting thorn hidden amongst soft petals.

He was the third prince of a glorious kingdom. He was the kingdom’s representative in overseas conferences, charming his way into alliances and cutting down those in his way. A handsome prince who stole the hearts of many and tempted those that are easily swayed to prick their fingers on the toxic thorn. He was a man who desired to travel the vast oceans to satisfy his craving to break the invisible shackles he wore for his kingdom. A kingdom that should feel like his home.

Yet, it never felt like it.

Minhyuk knew when things would begin to unravel much before everyone else around him even had the thought that something was seemingly off. It was like a sixth sense. He could see the glass floor in front of him with every crack growing ever so slightly until it can’t support the weight of the kingdom anymore. One by one, Minhyuk would watch everyone fall through, never once thinking that he himself would fall with them. That, and jealousy was not an uncommon sight to Minhyuk. He expected it ever since he could first comprehend the thought of succession and how it would be passed down to the firstborn. He held no interest in the throne to begin with unlike other individuals who craved it. Yet, while he may have been able to see that green aura radiate off some of his brothers, he couldn’t predict which one would strike first.

But perhaps he was blinded by his own desire to escape than to realize who was desperately trying to reach out to him.

“Minhyuk-hyung,” the fourth prince called out.

Minhyuk turned around to see Kihyun staring at him with furrowed eyebrows. “You’re worried again. Did Hyunwoo-hyung go down to the training grounds again?”

“No— you know how Hyunwoo is now-a-days,” Kihyun scolded before clearing his throat. “I just wanted to ask you if you really want to go on this trip.”

Minhyuk chuckled softly at the shorter male. “Of course I want to. Why would I begin to have doubts?”

Kihyun began to dig his nails into the palms of his hands, thinking and trying to approach this question with caution. He knew how much Minhyuk loved the sea, yet superstition was getting to him lately. Peculiar scenes haunted him at night. Blood splatter and pained screams kept him awake at night. It was an omen, he thought. Perhaps an omen for my future. Kihyun knew the logical choice was to accept the fate of always being fourth in line, but he hasn’t truly committed to any side of this family feud. Much like how Minhyuk wanted to escape the troubles altogether by getting lost at sea.

“I don’t think the waves will be as kind to you on this trip as they always have been. A storm may be on the way,” Kihyun warned.

The corners of Minhyuk’s lips fell into a frown before he let a tired sigh slip out.

“I’ve dealt with storms before!” Minhyuk exclaimed, much to the shorter one’s dismay. “Look, if it’s because you think I should stay and help sort this family quarrel, it’s a little too late to be speaking about that with me.”

“This isn’t just some argument that can blow over. We’re in war with our own brothers!” Kihyun snapped. The pent-up tension caused the two to cease immediately. “I already know I can’t stop you, but that can’t stop me from at least trying to do so,” Kihyun retorted.

“And tried you did, brother. Try harder next time,” Minhyuk hissed.

Kihyun watched the taller male walk away without another word spoken. He was fuming at this point, but not at Minhyuk’s final choice, but at himself for being able to convince him of the ominous feeling that followed closely behind him.

The next morning drifted by and Minhyuk had sailed out without any proper farewell or promise of returning. Anger was still present in the prince’s being, fueling him to act much more coldly towards some of his crew. His blood continue to boil as his heart took it’s final turn away from those that he once called his brothers.

The day quickly passed by with Minhyuk and his crew of a few dozen still out in the middle of the sea. Night fell silently upon them, painting the sky in black and scattering multitudes of white speckles across the endless canvas. A slight cool breeze accompanied by the stillness of the waves rocked majority of the crew members to a gentle slumber while others enjoyed a glass of liquor below the deck. While a little alcohol would never hurt him, Minhyuk chose not to indulge himself and managed to sneak past the drunk members to the deck to enjoy some time to himself. However, it seemed someone else had the same idea as Minhyuk.

Minhyuk’s heart stopped the moment his eyes landed on your figure. He wasn’t sure how you had gotten on the ship for he never saw you at all during the day. His first assumption was that you were most likely tasked with some unknown job that unfortunately required you to be away from others, but even then it still doesn’t make sense to him. The attire you wore, a pure white silk that draped over your limbs and glided through the air like winter’s first snowfall, was not like the maidens that accompanied him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as you continued to dance in the dim moonlight, seemingly unaware of his presence. Ghostly, was one way he would describe it. You carried an aura of mystery and temptation that he wanted to unravel for himself, but there was another tug in his heart that was begging him to turn around and walk away. Something was off. He knew it, yet he remained in his place.

He cleared his throat and watched you spin around to face him. Your facial features remained soft, eyebrows slightly raised, surprised to see Minhyuk standing there, but you didn’t falter in composure at all. The moonlight seemingly enhanced your entire being instead.

“You’re upset, darling. Could you tell me why?” you inquired as you approached the slightly tense male.

Minhyuk’s heart began to pick up some speed as the distance between the two of you decreased.

“Who are you?” Minhyuk demanded.

A coy smile tugged at the corners of your rosy lips as your fingertips rose and gently caressed his cheek.

“Would you believe me if I said I was a siren’s ghost? Trapped for eternity to tempt the troubled sailors to take the plunge in the murky darkness below?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Minhyuk narrowed his eyes as he brushed your hand away. “And how can I trust you if you won’t give me a name at least.”

A soft sigh left your lips, ghosting the side of his cheek as you leaned away slightly. “And how long will you be able to remember it before it slips your mind like all the tiny trinkets lost at sea?” Minhyuk arched an eyebrow, wordlessly giving his answer through his unwavering gaze.

“Sirens are like the devils of the sea, my prince. You ask for their name and you unwillingly pay the price with your soul,” you teased. “It’s [Name]. That’s my name,” you added with a honey-like tone.

“You made it so much more complicated than it needed to be, darling,” Minhyuk responded as he watched you suddenly twirl away.

“Life is complicated, Prince Minhyuk. Not everything can be handed on a silver platter.”

His heart picked up a faster tempo. Temptation was just at the tip of his tongue as he kept a careful eye on your swaying form. The loose white fabric traveled and flowed like the calm waves below, making you seem like a ghost of a sailor’s past. Did he want to indulge? Was it the sweet voice that was luring him ever so slowly?

“Even then, why are you here? Surely, there’s nothing that interesting other than the night sky for someone who seems as free-spirited as you,” Minhyuk mused.

You stopped and leaned against the railing of the ship. “But there is something interesting here. Why would a prince like you want to run away from your brothers?” you inquired.

Minhyuk frowned once more as he cautiously approached you. He stood on your right side and peered over the railing, down at the black sea that was carrying his ship. The waves thrashed, but never once did they show any kind of threat that Kihyun had mentioned the day before.

“You’re well informed about me and well in-tune with my emotions, so I guess you already know the answer,” Minhyuk retorted.

You turned your gaze up towards the star-speckled sky, a light smile gracing your lips. “You’re quite infamous amongst the seven seas,” you commented before breathing out a soft sigh. “It wouldn’t be a fun conversation if I keep speaking for you. You also wouldn’t be able to release all that pent-up energy either.”

Minhyuk’s gaze glanced down at your hand for a split second. “You should know then that my kingdom isn’t going to last then.”

“It’s a shame,” you responded with a slight pout. “You could have just taken the crown for yourself. But instead, you chose to sail off, not caring about the reputation you may have now if your kingdom were to survive this little war. It’s a shame, really.”

Minhyuk chose not to defend himself as he lowered his gaze towards the dark sea below. What was there to defend if it was true, anyways? He chose to run away, knowing that no one would make it out alive, knowing that there will always be a missing piece once the war ended, and knowing that it wouldn’t matter who would win for he will always be the third prince, destined to be tied down and used as an instrument for personal gains.

“But it’s still admirable,” you added.

Minhyuk perked up, only to see you now gazing at him with sincerity written on your lips.

“It’s admirable because you chose to take your destiny into your own hands,” you suddenly made a move and grasped his hands in your own. “You chose to face reality and change that destiny to make it your own. You chose to run off to Neverland in hopes of having a happy ending and here you are, Minhyuk, doing just that while your brothers bet their lives in some petty war. So don’t worry about what your kingdom might say about you. Just keep running towards your Neverland.”

Minhyuk’s heart ceased beating for a moment as you leaned closer. His hands gave yours a light squeeze as he tried to predict your next move. Yet, he couldn’t. His thoughts blurred and crossed over each other, becoming more and more muddled by the second. Chills barely touched his skin, chasing away any source of heat that his body retained. Were his senses heightened or numbed at this point? Your soft lips brushed the side of his cheek, leaving ghostly kisses and tickling sensation behind.

“I gave you a warning, didn’t I, my prince?” you whispered. “A siren’s price for their name is your soul.”

Minhyuk’s blood ran cold. His vision blurred at the corners while his strength fled his body, leaving him to lean against the railing of the ship, heaving in as much air as he could as he broke into a cold sweat.

“You’ll join me now, won’t you? Down in Neverland where no one will ever find you?”

Minhyuk couldn’t even curse out the siren just as his mind went blank. The next thing he knew, a cold, wet sensation consumed his entire being.

“My king! We have finally received some news on your brother’s whereabouts! But-” the messenger quickly closed his mouth at the sight of Hoseok leaning back in his chair. Slowly, he proceeded with wide eyes and cautious steps to place the letter on the desk before he scurried out of the room.

Hyunwoo exhaled softly as he grabbed the parchment and his letter-opener. “Maybe Minhyuk was one of the lucky ones out of all us, after all,” Hoseok commented as he watched Hyunwoo slowly open the letter.

“To escape and be known by the kingdom as either a traitor or a lost prince? Seems very cruel to me.” Hyunwoo carefully pulled out the parchment and examined the cold wax seal pressed deeply in the middle.

“You know what I mean. He’s always wanted to run away with some unknown lover. Knowing him, he probably already had one and a plan to escape anyways. This would have been his perfect chance to find his neverland,” Hoseok chuckled.

Hyunwoo spared a glance at the second prince before he broke the seal and unfolded the paper. The two of them always teased Minhyuk about his rather fairy tale-like expectations of love. The thought of it now made almost smile if it weren’t for the subtle realization that this letter handed to him. This isn’t Minhyuk’s handwriting, he thought with a frown. That frown continued to deepen with every second passing as he scanned the letter.

Hoseok mirrored Hyunwoo’s expression, his heart already sinking at the possible content the letter held. “You have that face again,” he noted. Hyunwoo simply shrugged his shoulders in acknowledgement, causing Hoseok to also frown even more in response. He leaned forward with narrowed eyes. “What happened this time?”

“This isn’t exactly about where Minhyuk is currently,” Hyunwoo remarked.

Hoseok arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean? What happened to Minhyuk?”

Hoseok’s heart pounded against his chest as Hyunwoo held the parchment out towards him. The second prince immediately took the parchment out of Hyunwoo’s hands into his own, not being able to mask the unsteadiness that suddenly overcame.

“This can’t be true,” Hoseok murmured under his breath after a few seconds. “Hyunwoo, it has be some sick joke.”

The eldest sucked in a deep breath as he rested his forehead in the palm of his hand. Hoseok watched as Hyunwoo got up from his seat and approach the wilting rose sitting on the window sill. The two princes remained silent for a while with only Hoseok’s quiet attempts in stopping his tears interrupting the sorrowful silence every now and then. It was Hyunwoo who first broke the pause as he took the dying rose out of its vase.

“It seems that Minhyuk finally found his Neverland.”

12 notes · View notes

loofiedee · 5 years

Note

Writing request? How about some fluffy Zolu where Luffy finds Zoro gets all flustered when told "I love you"?

Anon thank you for catering to my Very Specific love of blushy Zoro, I appreciate you.On AO3 or continue under the cut!

First, but not really.

So maybe it was less an act out of the goodness of his heart and moreso meant to stop Luffy from giving him puppy eyes, but he still appreciates it when Zoro gives him his lunch.“Zoro! You’re the best, I love you!” He’d said it before. He’d say it again. It’s true, why shouldn’t he?

But Zoro pauses, breath audibly catching in his throat.He coughs to cover it up. “Yeah, I guess, ask Shitji for more next time.”

Over the years, Zoro has gotten a sixth sense for when he’s going to pounce on him. It triggers within an instant, and his hand preemptively shoots out against Luffy’s face to keep him at arm’s length.

Foolish. While Zoro was taller Luffy’s arms were Unlimited .

It only takes a second for Luffy to have him in a headlock.His hand presses harder against Luffy’s cheek. His palm happens to drift slightly over Luffy's mouth, a rookie mistake, and Luffy licks it as wetly as his salivary glands can manage.Zoro makes a weird noise in his throat that Luffy’s pretty sure humans shouldn’t be able to make and he cackles at the sound.

The laughter quickly turns into pitiful whining when Zoro’s wet, slimy, slobbered-on hand is wiped off against his cheek

“Eww! Zoro, gross!”

Zoro growls, futilely attempting to pry Luffy’s arms off of him. “You started it, you brat-- Ow- Luffy! Don’t bite me!”

“Iw’ll bithe youw iff I wanh,” Luffy responds petulantly through his mouthful of fingers.

The fight needs to be broken up by Nami in the end, who sends Zoro off to do who knows what in the bowels of the ship and puts Luffy on crow’s nest duty.

“Oi! Zoro! You got a fever? You look a little red,” he shouts just before Zoro descends below deck

He collapses in laughter at the distinctive thunk of a head hitting a door frame.

Again

“Why are you here? It’s got to be boring, just… watching me.”

Despite his own strength, it was still a bit mesmerizing to watch Zoro lift weights. There was easily, uh, a lot -- look he wasn’t good with numbers, he had other people on the crew who could do math for him -- on the bar, but he moved like there was nothing in his hands. It was like a magic trick, except there was no magic. Zoro was just that cool.

“I like watching you.” He says without consideration, without hesitation, unashamedly. “I like talking to Zoro. I love being around Zoro, even if we’re not talking… I just love Zoro.”

Zoro nearly crumples under the weight, the bar slipping from his hand for just a fraction of a second before he recovers. With a bit of effort, he set the barbell down -- gently -- and clears his throat.

“Yeah, well, I’d sure hope so. You’re stuck with me.” His hand comes up and sheepishly rubs at the back of his neck. It seemed like it was supposed to be teasing and haughty. It wasn’t.

Luffy cocks his head off to the side curiously, watching.

Huh...

Once more now.

Cold wind licks against his skin, but he doesn’t shiver. Zoro bled warmth into his skin where they’re leaned against each other keeping the night air at bay. Usopp lays sprawled out on their other side, asleep with his head in Zoro’s lap.

There’s the muffled voices of the crew elsewhere, hushed laughter. Waves rock against the ship, they move with it. Usopp breathes with it, slow and easy.

He finds that he begins to notice something in his chest. It isn’t loud, but it’s all-encompassing. It isn’t frightening, but it’s overwhelming. It isn’t sparks and explosions and butterflies. It’s a peace that’s hard to come by, a home that isn’t rooted anywhere.

“Zoro..?”There’s a sleepy pause before he gets a response. A quiet, groggy “Mn?”“I love you.”

It was natural reflex, like breathing.

Inhale, exhale.

He loves Zoro, he says it.

It was easy to say, so easy sometimes he didn’t even realize when he did. He’d said it a million times, over and over again. To others, to Usopp and Nami and Sanji, to Ace, to everyone. Zoro’s were just for Zoro, though.

Zoro freezes, an odd, strangled sound escaping him. Luffy glances up to look at him and Zoro snaps his head away, seeming to find absolutely Jack Diddly Nothing over on their other side very, very interesting.He inches curiously closer. A difficult task, when Zoro is leaning away just as quickly as he can chase him.Sure, it’s a little dim, maybe it was a trick of the light but Zoro’s face looks… red?

“Zoro… Are you--”

Zoro’s jaw tenses, he still refuses to look. Luffy pushes, climbs awkwardly into his space, onto him, invasive, crowding, smothering--

“AIY! Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow! Lu-uffy! You’re on my hair,” Usopp yelps, jolting upright, and Luffy follows… or… fall-ows, tumbling backwards.

Zoro suddenly stands now that both of them are sitting on the deck and not caging him in place. “I’m gonna go see what’s taking them so long,”

They watch, bewildered.

Usopp gives him a look when Zoro trips over his own feet -- twice -- on his way. A look that says Dude… what the fuck?

Luffy returns a strong and decisive half shrug and a look that says Iyunno?

As many times as he can.

Luffy has a theory, and hands-on research was needed to come to any further conclusion and he’s enthusiastic to investigate.

But the sea had other plans. A freak storm rolled in, a bad one, and it was all hands on deck. Then Nami spends an hour talking to him about their course. Then Zoro gets into a fight with Sanji. Then there’s a sea king. Then they have to help repair the damage caused by the sea king. And then when the storm did clear, Chopper comes to ask Zoro about the fever Luffy had mentioned to him (Oops)

They barely got a second to themselves, crammed back to back with problem after problem. While Luffy usually enjoyed action, he’d really like it if he could have a spare five minutes.Every time he and Zoro passed eachother it got worse.

He’d open his mouth to speak, then get whisked away.

He’d try to grab Zoro’s hand, then Zoro would get called over and dart away.

He was in the cabins, Zoro was in the crow’s nest.

Zoro finally came to the cabins and he had to rush to the wheel.

Every near miss made him twitch, it made his palms itch, made him antsy. There was a caged lion in his chest pacing the walls that wanted out and he wanted to scream.

Just before he ripped off his own skin the fates relented.

Luffy finally caught sight of Zoro in a spare moment. He sat on the deck, leaned back against the mast with his bandana draped over his eyes. It reminded Luffy of when Makino’s cat would sit in the window soaking up sunshine.Thank god he had come around just in time to disturb the peace!It took a while of standing over him, but eventually Zoro did notice the shadow looming over him and peered up from under his bandana.Luffy grins.Zoro’s mouth opens like he’s about to talk, probably nothing important, when Luffy climbs into his lap and whatever he was going to say turns into a soft grunt of protest.The lion is still pacing. His hands find Zoro’s easily and he presses their palms together with their fingers interlocked. He sways their arms back and forth, itching for an outlet. Zoro’s lips twitch in a smile, his protests long forgotten.

“Zoro,” Luffy demands, expression unusually stern despite the fact that he’s still playing with their joined hands.A soft, almost fond sigh follows. “Aye, Captain?”

“I love you.”

The other went stiff under him. Zoro tries to turn his head away, but this close, at this angle it was entirely useless.“I love you~”He intently watches the color slowly bloom across Zoro’s face, from his hairline down to his neck, his chest, until his line of sight is blocked by the other’s shirt.He looked like a child -- or maybe an Usopp -- who had gotten caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

“I love Zoro~!”

Luffy grins delightedly like he’s watching the greatest thing he’s ever seen, and Zoro concentrates very hard on dropping through the floorboards in hopes that maybe it’ll actually happen.How can one of the strongest people alive be rendered a flustered mess by him without even trying? Red up to his ears from three little words. A simple fact of life, a simple statement of his existence stopped the demon swordsman in his tracks and turned him into a shy little school boy.

“Bastard! You’re doing that on purpose!” Zoro gritts out.

“Yep!” He laughs harder, and Zoro’s grip on his hands tighten in retaliation. Zoro probably couldn’t hurt him even if he tried, not like this, but even knowing that he’s still gentler than he needs to be (and if Luffy thinks about that for even a second, something ticklish and smushy starts in his chest, so he doesn’t).Zoro’s head drops to his shoulder, face tucked into the crook of his neck, hiding like a shy child. The heat from his blushing cheeks bleeds through Luffy’s clothes.

“Dammit...” His warm breath fans out against his skin in an exasperated sigh. “I love you too.”

#zolu #my art #Anonymous

74 notes · View notes

concussed-to-pieces · 5 years

Text

The Audacity

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Incubus!Jeff Hardy/Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Thirsty Crew, happy Valentine's Day! Tagging the broskis @toxiicpop, @oraclegazes and @hardcorewwetrash as is my custom! This was written for @helplessly-nonstop 's Winter Writing Challenge, utilizing prompt number thirty two: “May God bang us all.” “Well, he may not bang us, but I will definitely bang you.” Enjoy!

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: Contains mentions of typical incubus behavior, vague and absolutely inaccurate summoning rituals, blood in general and a hint of sacrilege. Stay safe!]

Catchphrases were sort of your thing. Witty quips and one-liners were all but your bread and butter. They had served you well in your life. That is, until now.

You stared at the...whatever it was in your apartment, the thing that seemed to be slowly solidifying into a vaguely masculine form. Your finger was still stinging from nicking it with that steak knife, but you pushed it away for the moment.

Your creative brain was having a real bear of a time parsing what it was seeing, and your words failed you as the...well, probably-male figure shook his head and stretched his arms out with an obnoxiously loud yawn.

“‘Bout fuckin’ time.” He groaned. You were abruptly pinned to the floor, a set of curious green eyes boring into your own. “You summoned me, yeah? Well, whatcha’ want?”

“I uh. Pardon?” You asked weakly.

Those eyes narrowed. “Playin’ coy, huh? Nice try.”

“How...How did you get in here?”

His right eye twitched and he settled back on his haunches, making an irritated noise while he gathered the long, dark hair out of his face. “You've gotta’ be shittin' me. I'm askin’ for a circle redesign, this is the third fuckin’ prank call in a hundred years!” He griped, hands working behind his head to tie his hair back. “Finally have the chance to work all my kinks out and it's just some slack-jaw sittin’ in their livin’ room!”

“Hey!” You yelped. “Excuse the hell out of me, buddy! If someone decided to magically appear in the middle of your living room, I'm sure you'd be pretty slack-jawed yourself!”

“I'd get a shovel, if we're bein’ hypothetical,” the man(?) replied, prowling around you on all fours. His baggy pants dragged on the floor. They looked strikingly similar to something you would have worn during an emo phase (which you may or may not have had in your younger years). “I'm not exactly big on hospitality.” His right shoulder blade and arm were covered with a tattoo that looked eerily like a network of large, hole-riddled veins. Your overactive imagination swore up and down that it was glowing faintly purple and shifting more than could be explained away by his motion.

A discordant jangle caught your attention and you glanced down, noticing for the first time that he was wearing a collar with a long length of chain attached. Try as you might, you couldn't seem to locate the other end of the chain. You hurriedly got to your feet and sidestepped out of the loop he was making around your ankles. “Listen, I don't know who you are or how you got in here, but if you leave now I won't call the police.” You gave him what you hoped was a stern look.

“You summoned me, y’ dumb--look at the damn floor.” He retorted, gesturing at the area he had appeared. Specifically, the area of thick rug where you had been absently dragging your fingers through the luxurious pile of fibers and enjoying a lonely steak dinner.

You had cut yourself accidentally while trying to slice off another piece from the steak, the serrated blade of the steak knife easily parting your skin. Blood had started to dribble quickly, splattering onto the plate and the rug when you bolted to your feet to grab a paper towel. And when you had returned…

“That,” The man stressed, pointing at the messy circle and lines you had drawn into the velour of the rug, “is my circle. You gave a human blood offerin’ after drawin' the circle, kinda’ old school but whatever. So I'm here now. Here to fulfill your needs.” He spoke slowly, obviously mocking you. “You get all that?”

“Well no, not really. I...h-hey, let go!” You exclaimed when he snagged your wounded hand.

He proceeded to ignore you and smear the tiny amount of blood left on your finger with the end of his nose, looking back up at you after several moments of silence. His pupils had shrunk to pinpoints in the green-blue of his irises. “You have no idea what you've done, do you.” It was sort of a question. Maybe. You shook your head. “Augh. What the fuck.”

“Get fucked Sunshine, your shitty attitude and vague explanations aren't helping whatever situation I'm in right now!” You snapped, entirely through with his griping.

“You brought me here, okay? I only show up for one thing.” He said after a long pause where he seemed to be trying to formulate a sentence. “I don't look like this normally. I look like this because that's what you wanted. I’m here only because you asked...or, demanded. Bein’ summoned can get to be a gray area after a while. Do you at least know what I'm here for?”

“I don't understand any of this so, no.”

He put his face in his hands, yowling down into his palms in what was clearly frustration. “Alright butterbean, no sense beatin’ around the bush. Since you're a damn dumbass. I'm here to fuck you.” He snarled finally. “I'm summoned to fuck. You specifically. You designed my body. That's how this shit works. It's made to be appealin’ to you.”

I'm here to fuck you.

You were entirely at a loss, staring at him in disbelief.

You designed my body.

You inhaled sharply, trying to keep your eyes from wandering. He still seemed to notice, if his little smirk was any indicator. “You like what you made? It's all yours to play with. Every inch.” He undulated his body, hands laced behind his head in a smug pose. “You're lookin’ hungry. Why not let me satiate that appetite of yours?”

“I...I am just so confused right now.” You said weakly.

“Don’t think. You're alone on Valentine's Day and I am the answer to your heart’s call.” He murmured.

“I mean that's great and all but...hey, how do you know I'm alone?!” You exclaimed, folding your arms across your chest.

He raised an eyebrow at you, then glanced pointedly down at the solitary plate on the carpet. “Really?”

“Good God you're rude. Supernatural entity my ass, I've met sixth graders with more maturity.”

Those green eyes flashed dangerously. “Your God's got nothin’ to do with me an’ that's just how I like it.”

“Well well! The personalized fuck machine has daddy issues. Who could have guessed?” You shot back, confused when a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Mm, I like this. Sharp little knife of a thing, ain't you?” He advanced, forcing you to step backwards or risk being within reach. “Who made you that way? Doubt you came out the womb spittin' venom.”

“I trained in the mountains. Sat under waterfalls and wrestled bears.”

“Aha, you're so quick. It's been ages since anyone's given me this level of sass.” Your back hit the wall and his hands pressed to the space over your shoulders, loosely caging you in. “I can’t hurt you. I'm only here for one thing. Sure I like playin' with my food, but I won't do anythin' you don't consent to, my little blade.”

The term should have been insulting, and yet, it seemed almost...endearing when he said it. Affectionate. As though he believed you were dangerous and actually respected you for it.

“So what do you want me to do? What's your heart's desire in the bedroom? Your softest wish, the one you ain't told nobody?” He whispered the words, his voice low. “Whatever you want, my beautiful, sharp-edged summoner, it's yours.”

“Whew, you say some wild shit.” You managed to reply after a moment of mentally fanning yourself. He was so close, his chest nearly touching your own every time he took a breath. You felt warm and a little giddy, dizzy from the attention he was lavishing upon you.

“I say what I need to.” His fingers brushed your cheek. “An' I wait for the go-ahead on everythin’ else.” He grimaced suddenly, hand flying to the collar around his neck. “Fuck you, that's how it's always been. No need t' strangle me old man.” He snarled under his breath.

“Who are you talking to?” You asked in bewilderment.

“The oh-so-merciful one holdin’ the other end of the chain.” He coughed out the words, air wheezing in his throat. You could see that the chain was pulled as tight as it could go. “He gets wound up about nasty things like me. Wants me to be ugly about this an’ I--”

His voice abruptly cut off and he clawed at the collar, seemingly unable to undo the simple buckle you could plainly see.

You reached out your hand to him without thinking and strangely, he took it and pressed it to his cheek. ‘Thank you’, he mouthed. His luminous eyes were pained when he released you.

Your fingers snatched at the buckle beneath his chin, the sharp metal punching into the skin of his throat. His eyes widened as your other hand came up and started to feed the free end of the collar through the buckle. It was harder than you thought it would be; jagged spikes laced the inside of the leather like shark's teeth, digging in and refusing to let go. “Hang on, okay?” You muttered, wriggling the strap with all your might.

“What are you-?” His breathing hitched and he fumbled to grab your wrist. “Y’ can't, wai--” He pleaded, shaking his head.

You glared at him, your eyes narrowed. “Listen, if what I'm doing is wrong, is an affront to the big man or whoever it is that's choking you out right now, well…” You paused, finally loosening the buckle enough to pull the strap free. Those spikes tore out of his neck and you flung the collar across the room with all your might. “Then I guess...may God bang me for my insolence, or whatever. May God bang us all.” You finished proudly, dusting off your hands in a self-satisfied manner.

“Well,” The man in front of you drawled as he straightened up, his teeth flashing in a lazy grin, “He may not bang us, but I will definitely bang you.” The wounds on his neck had started bleeding lightly, like they were nothing but scrapes instead of the deep punctures you knew them to be. Hands slammed into the wall over your shoulders and he leaned in close. “The name's Jeff, little blade, an’ it seems I owe you a debt of gratitude.” Those vibrant green eyes fell to your mouth. “I could never remove the collar myself, and no one has ever been particularly interested in releasin’ me from it.” Jeff's breath ghosted across your lips. “I assume you'll accept payment up front?” He whispered.

When had your hands landed on his shoulders? Your palms pressed down on the flesh beneath them, fingers fumbling at Jeff's skin. What an ordinary name.

Seeming to sense your hesitation, Jeff dropped to one knee in front of you. Firm hands grabbed your hips and he began pressing kisses to your stomach right above where your skirt began. “Let me please you?” He murmured against your shirt, a growl rumbling in his throat. “It's the least I can do, y'know.”

…

Their fingers were smearing the blood that had started to pool in the divots of his shoulders and collarbone. Jeff bit the satisfied snarl down into a safe little growl, his neck tendons snapping taut beneath this unfamiliar skin. This precious little dagger of a human had no idea what they were doing to him; a concealed blade that slid its way between his ribs to prick his long-cold heart.

He inhaled sharply through his teeth when their hands moved up into his hair, tugging it gently at the roots. They still reeked of sadness and frustration, tastes bitter on his tongue. “Why the hell not,” They mumbled. “Go on ahead.”

Jeff was an incubus. For as long as he could remember, as long as he had been collared, he had been driven forward by a bone-deep desire to conquer, claim, intimidate. With the leash gone though, it was as if everything became smooth. He could see past the tunnel vision of what he was made for and venture tentatively into the new realm of what he could actually do.

And this human had made it possible.

Jeff jerked the metal snap on their jeans off with one twist of his fingers, sending it flying outside the halo of light from the lone lamp. They gasped, their hands grabbing his own.

Jeff could have pulled away. Easily. Overpowered them easily. Taken them easily. Something stopped him, the knife point piercing him just a bit more. Their eyes were startled, knuckles whitened with the effort of stilling his hands.

“Be gentle, okay?” They said, “Don't hurt me.”

Jeff was seized with a strange sensation. He didn't want to hurt them, that was the odd part. But hurting so often seemed to go hand in hand with acts like this, leaving him at a loss. He let them cup his face and he sucked their wounded finger into his mouth, making them inhale as he laved the sensitive skin with his rough tongue.

“Show me.” He muttered, quickly returning their finger to his mouth after he spoke. He felt them press down on his tongue, a light pressure that turned into a stroking motion. They seemed to be marveling at the texture more than anything, which was amusing. “I imagine you’d like this tongue in at least one other place, yeah?” He prompted, grinning at the way he could feel their pulse start to race. “Lay down, little blade. Show me what you like.”

They obliged after a little more coaxing, their shyness nearly too endearing for Jeff to handle. He wanted to fuck it out of them, but at the same time he loved it so much he never wanted them to stop. The way they curled up, the way their body trembled and heated under his touch...it was intoxicating.

When they finally, finally helped him peel their jeans off, Jeff was certain that he was dreaming. Their thighs fell open for him without another protest, his sweet little blade unfurling the most delicate petals he had ever encountered. Awed, almost dazed, Jeff slid his fingers over them, collecting the slick that had gathered. They whimpered, the noise rippling down his spine in a shudder of want.

Jeff covered the insides of their thighs with kisses and nips, tormenting himself with the knowledge that they were right there but they needed him like this. Needed these lip-presses and bites far more than anything else at the moment. They had laid down on the very edge of the circle of light cast by the lamp, their face and upper body illuminated by the soft glow. He watched them bite down on their own knuckles, eyes closed and head tipped back.

He couldn't refrain any longer.

Jeff buried his face in the apex of their thighs. They cried out at the first stroke of his rough tongue, their free hand raking through his hair. Jeff growled against them and made no effort to hide the noises of his satisfaction, of their own wetness. He alternated between lashing their clit and soothing it with the smooth back of his tongue, the differing textures more than enough to make them knead at his scalp and mewl like a helpless kitten.

“Tell me how much y’ like it, my darlin’ summoner.” He whispered, looking up at them and then slowly, slowly easing his tongue into them. The textured surface rubbed against their inner walls, urging forth a half-choked noise of desperation when he withdrew it. “Tell me whether I'm bein’ too rough, okay?” Jeff continued, thrusting his tongue back home to punctuate his request.

He set a pace that made his body ache, trying his hardest to be gentle while fucking them with his tongue. As deeply as he could reach, as slow as he could force himself to go, the flat of his tongue pressing upwards towards their pubic mound while his hand rubbed circles on their belly. Jeff closed his lips around their clit every time he fully sheathed his tongue in them, enfolding the sensitive nerves in the heat of his mouth.

He wasn't sure how many times they came. They kept twitching and begging for more, their cracking voice a melody sweeter than any pleasure he had ever experienced. Hands in his hair, thighs gripping the sides of his head like they would die if he moved from between their legs...Jeff was certain this beautiful little blade had been rammed home into his heart.

He continued his breathless assault, his cock stiff and rubbing fruitlessly against the fabric of his baggy pants. Jeff took a selfish moment to grind his pelvis against their wet heat, his legs quivering with the desire to bury his cock in them and claim them until the sky pinked with dawn. But he shook it off, returning to working them over with his fingers and tongue. “One more for me? Can y’ maybe give me one more?” He murmured, chuckling at the whine of breath they let out. “It’s jus’ one more, little blade, I know you got it in ya’.”

They propped themselves up on shaking arms, their ability to still move surprising Jeff. He was even more surprised when they beckoned him up, up their body to their mouth. The kiss they gifted him was hungry, sweet, breaths panting into his mouth as they licked timidly over his tongue. There was nothing timid about the way they ground their hips against his own, though.

Jeff choked on his breath, grunting while they rocked their heat against the rigid line of his stiff cock. Their slick soaked through his pants and he let them push him onto his back, let them grind against the obviously display of his need. This was new. He had never abstained from penetration.

They continued to shift their hips back and forth over his clothed cock, the press and slide of them absolutely maddening. It was a tease of a fuck, a pantomime that threatened to kill him with every hypnotic motion. Jeff’s hands fell to their hips, fingers digging in as he bucked up against them. He indulged in the newness of this fuck-tease for what felt like a lifetime, his pants saturated through with a mixture of their slick and his own. It eased the friction, urging him on more and more to hold their hips and force them down. He could feel the head of his cock prod their entrance every now and then through the fabric, that taunting little hitch that made them gasp and croon.

Jeff had never thought that not penetrating someone could be this exhilarating, the muscles in his thighs straining against the desire to come. His body teetered halfway between frustration and completion for a short eternity, their fingers covering his own on their hips all the catalyst he apparently needed.

Jeff's head fell back, his breath caught in his throat and when they bent down to kiss him, he moaned into their mouth while coming all over the inside of his pants. They just kept kissing him, their own body shuddering at the sensory overload of his previous ministrations. Jeff silently wrapped his arms around their shoulders and pinned them to his chest, their ear pressed to where his heart would be thundering.

But something like him had lost its heart a long time ago.

…

When you woke up, you kept your eyes shut against the sunlight. You felt…

Strange.

It was a mixture of headache and low level buzz under your skin. Your whole body was tender, half-numb but too sensitive all at once. The sheets twisted in your fingers as you pulled them up over your head, blocking out a little more of the light pouring in through the window.

What a night, you mused. Bits and pieces of it played back, making you blush and bury your face in your pillow. Hell of a way to spend a lonely Valentine's Day, wet-dreaming yourself into a coma!

When you opened your eyes though, you were met with the hysterical proof that last night had not, in fact, been a dream. You yelped in dismay as you stared down at the dark red marks on the insides of your thighs, headache forgotten while you floundered to get out of your bed. Struggling into your bathrobe, you rushed to the living room as fast as you could.

A sheet of paper laid in the middle of the very obviously disturbed rug. You cringed as you took in all the lines that looked suspiciously like they had been clawed by fingers, all the areas that were pushed in a different direction than the rest of the carpet. That was what you got for splurging on a such a plush velour rug, you supposed.

You crept to the piece of paper (which appeared to be a note) and after hesitating for another moment, you knelt and picked it up gingerly.

My beautiful little knife,

Leaving before the reality sets in is pretty much my forte, I'll apologize for that. Normally I'm thrown out as a fantasy until the poor soul's belly starts to swell with the fruits of my labor. Now that you freed me, well…I'm not really sure what trouble I can get into, but I am sure you're going to see me again. Promise I'm not going to spend my free time ravishing morons in their living rooms. Unless it's your living room, of course. You're too sharp for me to be able to stay away for very long.

Happy Valentine’s and all that crap,

Jeff

“Oh.” You breathed, your fingers tracing over the messy circular pattern he had drawn in the lower left corner of the paper. “Damn. Alright then. Thank you, overly-expensive fuzzy rug.” You continued aloud, petting the fibers beneath your knees as a grin slowly snuck it's way onto your face. “Happy Valentine's Day to me in-fucking-deed. May God bang us one and all.”

#jeff hardy #jeff hardy/reader #incubus!jeff hardy #winter writing challenge #thirst party saturday #on a thursday #happy valentine's day!#may god bang us all #i had too much fun #knife metaphor

178 notes · View notes

harry-writings · 6 years

Text

Never Leaving Your Side

- The one where Harry misses the most important night of Y/n’s life.

Part 1

Masterlist

Harry almost wishes Y/n never came back home.

It sounds horrible, but he genuinely feels like he’s going mental seeing Y/n every day and knowing he has to keep his distance from her. Not being able to touch her or talk to her when she’s always around is the most excruciating thing he’s ever had to do.

He’s had to sleep without her for nearly a week now and it’s starting to take a toll on him. He’s never slept well on his own—even as an adult—so having Y/n beside him was absolutely essential for him to get a good night’s rest. So having spent the past five nights in an empty bed when he can practically feel her neglect from the other side of the wall, makes it so hard for him to find enough comfort to sleep peacefully.

Each morning he’s woken her up with coffee and breakfast ready on the kitchen table for her wake, leaving her a notecard saying when he’ll be home and what he’ll be bringing back for dinner that day. And usually, she’ll accept her dinner with a shy smile and settle for casual conversation as they munch on their last meal of the day, but it’s not the same.

Harry feels her slipping away.

He supposes that’s why she insisted on staying home instead of crashing at his mum’s house, or renting out a hotel room until everything gets resolved. This is his punishment. This is his own personal hell and she well knows how much it’s ruining him from the inside out.

But on the sixth night tossing and turning alone in their king bed, he just isn't having it anymore. Almost a week and they have made no progress in their relationship and he knows it’s his fault. This entire situation is his fault and he’s only making it worse by not trying to fix it. He’s just letting himself sulk in his regret and guilt rather than using them as a way to change their relationship.

And maybe that’s what she wanted in the long run. Maybe she stayed home in hopes that he’d stop at no limits to gain her trust back, or fight for his life to keep her in his, not to drive him absolutely fucking mental. Because at the end of the day, no matter how much pain he put her through, she’d never put him through the same.

At least that’s what he hopes.

But no matter what the reason, he refuses to let her sleep alone when she already feels like he isn’t there for her enough. He needs her to know that he’s always going to be beside her, holding her up whenever she feels down. Because even though he’s failed to prove it to her, he's her biggest supporter and he knows that.

He crawls out of bed after failing to fall asleep for nearly two hours now, untangling himself from the duvets and halfheartedly making his way over to the guest bedroom.

With all the lights in the hall off, Harry blindly wiggles the doorknob until the door creeks open. The moonlight is hitting perfectly against Y/n’s silhouette and his heart swells at the sight of her curled beneath the sheets as her chest rises and falls with each breath she takes.

He always found her the most beautiful while she was asleep—even though she really was always beautiful, but he was always so intrigued by how effortlessly gorgeous she was. Whether she had fallen asleep with makeup from the night before or fell asleep with her bare skin and unbrushed hair, she never failed to take his breath away.

He doesn’t know what he’d do if there was ever a day he would have to fall asleep without seeing her face again.

He takes a weary step into the bedroom, his movements slow as she tries to shut the door behind him without waking her up. Apart of him would die if she knew his intentions and decided to reject them, even if they were the most harmless.

He creeps to the empty side of the bed, gentle to push the duvets back and attempt to crawl in beside her. But this bed is much smaller than the one they used to share, and since Y/n hasn’t been getting the best sleep of her life, either, she took full advantage of the space she had to herself to try and get comfortable enough to sleep.

There’s no room for him. And whether it was intentional for her to do that or not, he doesn’t allow it to get in his way of her.

He pushes the pads of his fingers into her side softly, shaking her body in hopes that she’d either roll over absentmindedly or wake up just enough to give him the space he needs to lay in the empty space.

“Hey, pretty girl. Could you move over for me?”

Y/n flutters her eyes open at the hushed tone, her half-awake state making it hard for her to comprehend what was happening. But when she sees Harry’s tired eyes staring right into hers, everything starts to make sense.

She can’t lie, she does feel relieved that Harry’s going to sleep with her tonight. No matter how upset she’s been and how much she’s trying to avoid him, sleeping without him is an absolute wreck. It’s cold and lonely and hopeless—so hopeless there have been one too many restless nights where all she was capable of doing was rolling around to find a somewhat comfortable position.

So she doesn’t deny him her permission to sleep beside her, rolling over silently until she’s facing away from him, leaving the perfect amount of room for him to slide under the covers on his side of the bed.

Her eyes are fixed on the wall as she feels Harry stir into a comfortable position, not making any move to touch her because he figures it would be inappropriate. But she doesn’t know if she still wants her space or if she wants him all over.

“Why are you here?” Her voice is nothing but a whisper, pain, and exhaustion laced lazily in her words.

Harry ghostly runs his fingers along the bottom of her back, just enough to where she can feel him but not too much for her to feel uncomfortable.

“Because I’m never leaving your side again.”

It was just a little over a month when Harry released his first single from his second album.

Due to the longer-than-anticipated wait between his last tour and the second album, there’s been a rush between Harry and his crew, his family, and his fans to finally put something out and he couldn’t have been more excited to finally pick up where he left off.

His single ended up becoming the fastest selling song in less than 24 hours in nearly 80 countries, beating records and climbing his way up on the charts much faster than they predicted. This was definitely one of his biggest accomplishments and every emotion inside of him was building up beyond his containment.

But the feelings didn’t last very long.

When the news broke to Y/n, there was a part deep inside of him that prayed she would suddenly let go of all the pain she’s been enduring and somehow find it in her heart to take their relationship even further. And while she did show some support, it wasn’t nearly as strong as every other time he’d advanced in his career.

Normally, she would latch onto his body with excitement, press her lips against his, and treat him to a weekend getaway he deserved after all the hard work he’s been put himself through. Sometimes, she’d even host the parties and plan all the celebrations just so that everyone could be there to support him and his career all at once.

She never failed to go above and beyond for him. Even in her tight schedules, she always made time to congratulate him and show him just how much of an impact he was making on everyone. She’d pour her blood, sweat, and tears for everything he’s ever done.

But this time—this time was different.

There was no latching or kissing, no parties or weekend getaways—just a small kiss to his cheek, a halfhearted smile, and a quiet I knew you would.

And knowing that that’s all she was willing to give him tore him apart from the inside out.

The most heartbreaking part was knowing that the single was written about her. What was probably the most intimate and personal song he’s ever released—all about the woman he loves most—happened to be the only song that Y/n wasn’t willing to acknowledge.

Maybe she did acknowledge it and she’s just giving him a taste of his own medicine. In the end, this was exactly what he did to her—if not, so much kinder than what he did to her—so this is the perfect opportunity for her to spit it all back in his face.

But that’s not her. Because even though what she’s doing is leaving him picking at his skin, she hasn’t broken any promises to him. She didn’t promise that she’d be the most supportive whenever the song came out, she didn’t promise anything extravagant, she didn’t promise to be there for him just to leave him alone to celebrate by himself.

She’s just so hurt that she doesn’t know what to do, and he knows that. This isn’t some type of revenge to get under his skin and into his head. No, this is her holding back from what she truly wants to do because if she doesn’t hold herself back, she’ll just end up all alone and hurt again.

But even so, it seemed as though everything else didn’t matter. Although the hype he’s received from his friends and family made all the work worth-while, he’d still fall asleep feeling as though a part of him was missing—like he didn’t do enough for her.

It’s when Mitch decided to have a get together for the release that he decides to talk to her about it. He isn’t even sure if she’s going to attend whatever the hell Mitch has planned, but it won’t stop him from trying to fix the mess he’s made.

He just wants to hear it. All he wants is to hear Y/n say how proud and happy she is for him—tell him how much the song means to her. Hell, even just some sign of support and gratitude would at least put him to rest tonight, but a big part of him knows that it’s going to take so much more work than he feels he’s capable of.

But he has to fight for her now. It’s just short of a month and a half now and he’s falling apart at the seems. He has everything in the world, yet he feels like he’s losing all of it the more he loses her. Because at the end of the day, she’s all he wants and she’s all he needs and she doesn’t even have a goddamn clue.

He walks tentatively toward the bathroom they once shared, watching Y/n through the mirror as she rearranges the shelves that have always given her a hard time, a scoff on her face as she tries to get everything all together.

It takes everything in Harry not to run to her from where he stands, but he knows that if he gives into his instincts, it’ll only make matters worse and he can’t afford to push any more boundaries or make anymore mistakes.

He rubs his hands nervously down his sides, wanting to puke at the material as it reminds him of where he’ll be tonight, without her being by his side—where he’ll be off pretending to have a good time when his girlfriend is going to be at home pretending she isn’t hurting.

The thought alone makes him sick to his stomach.

“Are you—“ He hesitates, knowing that the questions is completely and utterly selfish but he doesn’t care. He’ll always be selfish when it comes to her and there’s nothing that can stop that. But knowing that she hasn’t even said how she felt about everything makes him want to tear his own heart out. “Are you proud of me?”

Y/n's heart hurts at just how sad he is about the situation, almost to the point where she gives up on her own self just so she can show him all the support he truly deserves. And she really almost does, but she knows that if she did, at the end of the day, she’d fall asleep knowing she’d be the only one hurt again.

And she just wants to stop being so fucking hurt all the time.

She sighs heavily, clicking her tongue as she stands up from her place against the wall to walk to where he stands. He looks lifeless and hopeless the more she looks at him—eyes stagnant and full of tears, tie hung loosely from his neck—so she places a reassuring hand right where his heart lay, patting her fingertips softly against his chest.

“Of course I’m proud of you. I’m proud of everything you do, I just—I really don’t know how to feel anymore, H. I love you and if I wasn’t so upset about what you did to me, I would have showed you in more ways than one just how much I am.”

Her fingers absentmindedly fiddle with his tie so that she can fix the loose and wrinkles parts because even though Harry knows full well how to work his way around a tie, he always loved how intimate it was to have her do it.

But she can’t find the heart to look him in the eye because she knows she’ll give into the eyes that made her fall oh, so in love with him, and this is no time to stand down. She needs to hold her own and be there for herself more than anybody else can because at this point; if she betrays herself the way he betrayed her, she’d have nothing left to fight for.

She’d have nothing left, and she has to make him understand why this has affected her so deeply.

"But Harry, I refuse to be the only one putting in that kind of effort in this relationship. It hurts and the only way for you to understand where I’m coming from is if you feel it too. And I absolutely hate knowing that I have to do this to you but you have to see why it’s so damn hard for me to look at you and have this terrible, horrifying feeling in the pit of my stomach knowing you won’t always be there."

He quickly grabs her hand with his, bringing their intertwined fingers closer to his chest as if to pull her in closer. He squeezes his eyes shut because it breaks him to know this is how she’s feeling. Knowing that he’s robbed her of her trust over a stupid, selfish decision makes him want to drop everything he’s ever had just to make it up to her.

And there’s so much he has to say but he doesn’t even know if she’ll listen to him. He’s broken his promises to her so fucking much that his words lost their value. His words mean absolutely nothing to her now, and all that she can depend on is what he does to show her how much she means to him.

But he hasn’t had the chance to show her anything because he’s barely seen her over the past month and she’s been so depressed that she’s lost interest in nearly everything she’s ever loved. He’s taken so much from her that he doesn’t even know where to begin.

“Baby, please listen to me. I know I’ve said so much that I’ve ended up going against but this is my last chance and I’m begging you to please, please listen to me.”

He’s on the brink of tears as he moves his hands to cup her face, willing to do absolutely anything if it means she can believe in him again.

And to see him in this state of mind makes her feel as if she’s gone too far. Perhaps the distance wasn’t the best option, or the silent treatment was prolonging the process. She can tell by the way his skin is so pale and the way his eyes are so sunken and dark that he hasn’t been getting enough sleep. It even looks as though he hasn’t been taking care of himself as much as he should be and she can’t help but suddenly feel like this is all her fault.

He hurt her, so much, but she’s hurting him too—much more than she intended.

“These past couple of days have been absolute hell knowing I didn’t have your full support. I had millions and millions of people tweeting me, messaging me, emailing me all these things about how happy they were for me, but none of them even amounted to how much it would have meant to me if it were you saying them. It was almost as if they weren’t really there for me because apart of me was missing knowing I didn’t have you.”

And whether it was in her right to be upset by what he said, Y/n feels like a knife has been twisted inside of her heart.

That’s everything she’s been feeling—if not, worse—and knowing that he’s the one who’s making it seem like she is doing this to him is enough to get her to clench her teeth. None of this would have happened if he had just kept his word and been by her side through it all.

But he didn’t. He never has.

She feels a pit of sadness, anger, and envy all deep inside of her and she’s never had a cluster of opposing emotions all at once. If she knew how to handle all this, she would have found a way, but all she can manage to do is cry and cry and cry until she can get it all through his head.

“Everyone’s always there for you, Harry! Including me! Don’t you see it?! You have everyone wrapped around your finger and it’s just—all I have is you. You’re all I’ve got. I’ll never be able to have special dinners, or parties, or anything for my accomplishments because I don’t have anyone. If one person doesn’t show up to one of your celebrations it wouldn’t even matter because everyone else is there to make up for it. I don’t have you and it’s like there’s no point in even me being there because you’re my other half. If there’s no you, there’s no me.”

By now, they’re both nearly falling to their knees in despair. Everything that they’ve been feeling for the past month is now giving out and since this is the closest they’ve been in a while, neither of them intend on leaving any time soon.

Besides, there’s still so much that remains broken and they both know it all won’t get fixed by the time the party starts, but it’ll be a big step in the right direction to keep them together.

Y/n wipes the tears under her eyes, lips quivering and fingers shaking as she tries to breathe through the pain. But everything is coming back to her—his empty chair, his reason for not being there, that god-awful feeling in her chest when she realized there was another promise broken—and she just can’t take it anymore.

She sinks to her knees in agony, feeling as though this relationship is just another loss in her life of losing. She doesn’t know what would be left for her if her and Harry don’t end up working out. He’s her entire fucking life and she genuinely feels like she’d have nothing left to try to live for if he gives up on her.

She clenches her fist around the fabric of her t-shirt, wet sobs falling from her mouth to the point where she can barely breathe and Harry crumbles when he sees her state of hysteria.

He kneels to the ground in front of her, his head falling in between her knees in absolute surrender. Watching the love of his life fall apart all because of his wrongdoing is slowly killing him from the inside out. He swears he’s going to lose his sanity if he has to look at the pain in her eyes anymore.

She brushes his hair in between her shaking fingers, trying to catch her breath before she collapses from a broken heart.

“You’ll never have to go through the pain of the most important people in your life not being able to be by your side. You’re the center of everyone’s world—including mine—that’s why nobody would even think of doing that to you! You have family, friends, producers, teams, publishers. You have it all. You’re my family, you’re my best friend, my team, my everything, and it’s just so hard knowing I can never be all that for you.”

She lifts his face from her knees so that she can get a proper look at him, and her heart tears in two when she sees the devastated look in his eyes. Filled with leaking tears, she gently runs the pads of her thumbs along his cheeks to wipe away the remaining sadness before her fingers make their way to the roots of his hair.

“And that’s okay, H. I don’t expect to be everything to you because you’ve got it so good. Anyone in this world would be so lucky to live the life you do, so I could never blame you for that. I just don’t know if I can handle seeing all those people for you tonight and feeling like I’m just another one on your list.”

His heart drops and the air is sucked right out of him at the thought for Y/n ever feeling like anything less than his girlfriend. If he had known that she felt like just another part of his career, he would have done so much more to show her just how much she’s worth. He would have tried harder to fight for her, he would have given up more of his time for her, he would have sacrificed so much more of his life for her.

But he should have fucking seen it coming. The signs were everywhere—the number of times he couldn’t be there to support her, the number of times he had let her down, the number of times he put his own needs in front of hers, and the number of times he made her give up everything for him—he should have never expected anything less.

He didn’t make her feel like the love of his life. He made her feel like an option.

And before he could even find the strength to respond, she places a gentle kiss on his forehead before making her way to her bedroom, leaving Harry sunken to his knees with yet another part of his heart broken.

All Harry can think about is how Y/n could have never been more wrong.

Harry’s never felt so empty in a room full of people. He’s so out of it that he’s not even trying to pretend he’s anywhere other than his own head. He’ll greet everyone who decided to attend but that’s all the effort he can muster before feeling the need to break down.

Every time he hears the door open he prays that Y/n’s had a change of heart and decided to come. It’s an absolute long shot but he can barely function knowing she’s somewhere other than with him. And he swears his heart drops more and more with each face he sees that isn’t hers.

And to make the night even worse, nobody at this entire party has even notices his strange behavior. He feels as if he’s watching his life from a window of a locked room—so disoriented and disconnected that he genuinely feel like nothing is real.

It just goes to show how fucking wrong she is. Because when it comes down to it, even though he seems like he has everything, he really doesn’t. There’s always something that feels unfulfilled, as if he has’t completely reached his full potential or hasn’t found his true purpose in this world.

Even in the midst of his popularity, he’s missing his true self. He's never been able to be himself since the start of his career, which has always been his biggest internal struggle. He feels like he’s never had the time to discover himself or properly grow because he was defined by contracts and the media.

Y/n was the only person that was able to bring out his true self. Throughout their entire relationship, she brought out sides of him that were forced to be hidden from the rest of the world and she did it so effortlessly. That was what made him fall so madly in love with her—she made him so fearless and unapologetic and he wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

Everything he’s been missing he found when he found her. She’s his purpose, his better half, his reason for working so damn hard every day. She’s his absolute everything and if he loses her, he’d lose the only thing that truly defines him and he doesn’t know if he could take it.

“Holding up well?” Gemma asks, her body inching towards his from where she stood across the room.

He looks like he’s about to crack at any given moment. She fears that talking about the situation would absolutely destroy him and give him no choice but to break down in front of everyone at this party. But she hopes that by showing him that someone is there for him, he’ll muster up his strength to pull through his act just a couple more hours before it’s time for everyone to head home.

He looks up from his trance on the edge of his glass, eyes he didn’t even know were tearing up making their way to Gemma's. He sighs heavily, blinking forcefully and sniffling his nose as he pushes his shoulders back—pulling himself together and hoping to god he can make it through the rest of the night.

“That noticeable, huh?” He chuckles softly, hanging his head down as he takes in a deep breath. “I feel like shit. I just want this night to be over already so that I don’t have to put on a show anymore.”

Gemma nods silently, pursing her lips together as she occupies the space next to him. She wraps her arm around his torso softly, giving it a soft squeeze to reassure him that it’s okay to talk—that it’s okay for him to feel this way even when he shouldn’t.

He’s lost his best friend and girlfriend and all he needs is for someone to listen to him since Y/n hasn’t been. Even if it is talked about in a room full of people, he just needs someone to reassure him that it’s temporary—the fighting, the lost trust, the doubts—they’re all temporary and will all be okay in the end.

He needs to hear it from somebody.

“I just want to go home and work things out with her. I can’t stay here knowing she’s not with me because I made her so upset. I’m the one who should be at home, in bed, by myself while she has fun and lives her life because that’s what she deserves. Not me.”

He scrunches his face as the emotions pass through him again, his fingers gripping the glass tighter into the palm of his hand as he slowly starts to lose control over his thoughts.

“I’m the one who fucked everything up, so why in the goddamn world is it me that’s still trying to have fun while she’s in our bed thinking I don’t love her right? She needs me, just like she needed me before, and I’m doing exactly what I did last time—being there for myself instead of being there for her.”

And suddenly, there’s a rush in his bones that he can’t quite shake. This is the first time in a month he’s had the itch to finally do something about it rather than mope on his bed not making any other effort.

He wants to forget about this stupid fucking party. He wants to forget about all the people who showed up tonight. He wants to forget about everything that’s ever gotten in his way of Y/n and focus on what truly fucking matters—getting her love and trust back.

And whether he deserves it all back or not, there’s finally some fight in his blood and he can’t ignore it this time. This is his final chance to get the love of his life back and nothing is getting in his way. Not anymore.

And with just one last push, he leaves the party and the people behind, just like he should have a month ago.

“Sorry, Gem. I have to do what I’ve been too coward to do. I have to get my girl back."

#harry styles imagine #one direction imagines #harry styles preferences #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #one direction one shot #one direction dirty one shot #one direction preferences

2K notes · View notes

itbe-jess · 5 years

Text

His Amazing Fantasies

Chapter 2

[*Monday morning, back in school*]

Peter was sitting up front in class, feeling worse than ever. Carl sat behind, kicking him in the rear. He wasn't listening to the teacher's lecture because it was hard to concentrate with this aching headache, and double vision. Peter has not yet checked in with a doctor. He had all the time he had yesterday. Maybe he was just afraid. That damn spider. He may be dying anytime soon. His queasiness started to build up, but he managed to hold it down. Until, one last hard kick from Carl, and he sprayed his desk with his own vomit. Some students laughed. Most were just disgusted. This was just as bad as the museum outing. The teacher then commanded the sick boy to head straight to the nurse's office.

Sometime later, sitting in the nurse's office, Peter thought back at the incident. Boy, they're probably never gonna let him live this down. If they don't forget this eventually, he may have to beg his aunt and uncle to transfer him to a different school. The nurse then examined the sick boy. She checked his throat and pulse, then started to ask questions to know the cause of his illness. Peter tried to explain that it was just from natural causes. She probably wouldn't believe him if he told her it was from a radioactive spider bite. Then suddenly, a sharp pain ripped through the teen's body.

The unexpected happened right there. He grew four extra arms (which one of them had grabbed the nurse by the neck), thick black hair all over his body, a set of four eyes, and a pair of huge fangs. He began to look lesser and lesser like a human, and more like a giant arachnid freak. With one of his free arms, he grabbed a mirror to take a good look at himself. Scared, he dropped the mirror. He couldn't even speak words anymore. Just some disturbing, squeaky squeals, a language he's not familiar with. Panicking, he put the nurse down, and broke through the door he came in from, rather than opening it. The kids see a giant, spider-like creature crawling its way down the hall, which drove them to run and scream. He was squealing for his life. Tears cascading from his six eyes.

Peter tried to tell everyone not to panic, and that he's under a disease he can't control, but he forgot. They can't hear him. They only hear a monster. If they can't understand him, he may never be able to explain this mess to Ben and May. He should've have checked in with a doctor when he had the chance. Peter stood still in that empty hallway, now fallen to silence. His tears continued to drop, thinking this is what his new life will be. On the spur of the moment, Peter got hit in the back of the head with something. Captain America's shield? Not only that, but some flying rope then tied all his limbs together. There was the Avengers, standing right in front of him. Ironman, Cap, Hulk, Vision, Scarlet Witch, Black Widow, Black Panther, etc. Once again forgetting he couldn't speak human words, he tried to tell them that this is all a misunderstanding. Ironman just aimed his repulsors at him.

"Good riddance, bug."

Peter woke up in shock, right off of his bed. It was just a dream. No, it was a nightmare. He's back in reality, where he only has four limbs, two eyes, no fangs, and speaking English again. And, that sleep really did the trick. He feels better. No more nausea or headaches. That's not all. He felt like he was all charged up, full of energy, like he could run a hundred yard dash. This is the feeling of being reborn. He was more than better. He felt great. Peter suddenly looks up to find his bed, and other stuff, on the ceiling. Now that's just uncanny. How did it all get up there? Unless this is another dream. WAIT, Peter thought. His stuff wasn't on the ceiling. He was. The surprise made Peter let go, and then fall onto ground with a hard thump. It hurt. But not how it's suppose to hurt. Somehow, that fall felt like it was no big deal. The pain was more bearable.

Another thing Peter noticed was that his sight was so clear. He began to feel around his face to check if he were wearing his glasses. He wasn't. And when he put on his glasses, everything became blurred. So not only has his flu healed, but his vision too. Weird. He checked the date on his phone. It's Sunday, 10:14 am. Peter apparently slept through an entire Saturday. He went down the hall and called for Ben and May. No response. Oh, he forgot. They're working. And Uncle Ben has a full-time shift now, so he might as well get used to that. On his way to the kitchen, he found a note, left by Ben himself, stuck onto the fridge.

Peter, There's some medications and soup for you to reheat, in case you're still not feeling so good. I planned to give it to you yesterday, but you were really a heavy sleeper there! No matter how hard I tried, all you did was toss and turn. Take care of yourself. Get plenty of rest. Drink lots of fluids. Sincerely, Ben. And your loving May. P.S. I wrote the note. She made the soup.

Soup, huh? It must be that nasty, oxtail and spinach soup remedy again, the one that smells like a rotting corpse. What does May even put in it? Peter decided to get dressed and head out, for he was hankering a deli sandwich. He put on his coat, grabbed his keys, and then walked out the door.

Before long, he was now outside, walking across town. It was freezing outside, considerably it was December. But Peter was too lost in his own thoughts to be bothered by the cold. All of his senses, they felt so sharpened. He could detect the barking of a dog, or a scream from a young child, despite being drowned out by all these car engines. The rattling of a soda can startled him. He could sense the presence of a few flying insects. Peter kept cautiously turning his head to any slight sound or movement. The boy could hear his own heart beat, pumping loudly in his chest. His veins were warming up, at least that's what it felt like. Peter eventually snapped out of it. It's probably just some crazy reflex.

The teenager reached into his pocket to see if he has enough on him to purchase a sub. He dropped some cents, while two quarters rolled their way across the street. Peter ran after them. They eventually stopped in the middle of a crosswalk. As Peter bent down to pick them up, some weird, little tingle started ringing in his head. He wasn't sure what it meant, but it gave him the instinct to turn his head towards a car coming right at him- Oh, sh*t!! The teen then jumped out of the way, safely onto the sidewalk. For some reason, his head was trying to warn him he was in danger. A normal pedestrian wouldn't have been so lucky. It could have something to do with that brain tingle.

He tried to go on with his day, putting the quarters in his pocket while ignoring the remaining of his cents on the other side of the street. Peter began thinking about all that has happened today. This morning, he woke up on the ceiling. A few moments ago, all of his senses grew sharper than they were before. Then this tingle in his head, rang like a radar. What is happening to him? Could this be a side effect? The more Peter thought, the more he picked up his legs. The fact that he stopped paying attention to where he was going, he recklessly, accidentally, bumped into a trio of hoodlums, and made them drop their coffees. Looks like Peter just got himself into a fight. The head hoodlum grabbed Peter by the coat, lecturing him.

"What the f*ck, little man?! Did you even think to watch where you're going?!" "I'm sorry, I-I just had something troublesome on my mind recently!" "A simple 'sorry' isn't gonna repay for our espressos! You can give a proper apology by handing over your money!" "What?" "I said, HAND OVER!"

The man began to shake Peter violently. Out of fear, he punched the guy, which wasn't intentional, on the side of the head. He punched him so hard, he basically knocked him out cold. He knocked out some tall muscle dude cold. That has never happened before. One of the remaining crew, a chunky guy, got mad after what Peter did, and started to charge at him. Instead of running, the teen put his hands up in front of his chest, as blockage. When the big guy soon came in physical touch with him, Peter pushed him back into a wall. He was not only out cold as well, but he appeared to have made a slight hole in the architecture. The last hoodlum standing, a skinny guy, didn't wanna fight him, and ran for it. That's no kitten! That's a tiger! Since when did he become this strong?

For some reason, Peter completely lost his appetite. Instead of buying that sandwich, Peter decided to head home. He had to leave sooner or later, and those goons won't stay unconscious for long. Those guys were gonna hurt him, and he was scared. But he managed to defend himself. Yesterday, he was Puny Parker. So weak, he couldn't beat an eight year old in arm wrestling. Now this. Something's happening to him, and you can bet it's not puberty.

As the boy reached home, he went to his room to think about it. He sat on his bed and thought it through. All of these changes his body is going through: What could they mean? Is he still sick? How can he? He feels powerful. He can see without his glasses now. All of his senses have gone enhanced, including this new tingly, sixth sense. He fought off those guys like he were as tough as Carl. If he's sick, then he doesn't want to get better. This is giving him superhero vibes right now. Is there more he doesn't know about? Peter stared at the wall for a brief second. Earlier, that's where he found himself hanging from. He wanted to try out a test run. He took off his shoes, leaving him in his socks, and pressed his fingers against the flat surface.

His grip against it felt sticky, but can he make it up? He decided to cross his fingers on this, and slowly scaled his own wall. He was really sticking. Peter was crawling up that wall, and now upside down on the ceiling again. At first it was scary, because Peter didn't think he'd make it, but now it seems thrilling. He's got to run more test to see how good he really has turned out to be. He went to the outside yard. First, he checked to see if there weren't any neighbors around. Now was his time. He took a few steps back, paused for a moment, then dashed. He ran faster than he usually ran. As he reached the fence, Peter took a leap over it. His heart pounded in his chest, from the sudden adrenaline. He actually did it. The boy was so proud, he did it again, and again, then with back flips, and cartwheels. But then he had to stop eventually when one of the neighbors stepped outside to water the plants.

"Hey. I... Just doing some- I forgot. See ya!"

After that, Peter decided to take his stunts to a new level. He put on some pads, kneecaps, fingerless gloves, a helmet, and strapped a pillow to his butt. Also, to keep himself from being humiliated, he covered his mouth with a bandanna. The teen then visited a downtown alley. He was soon face-to-face with a dumpster. This morning, he wiped out two hoodlums in one blow, but how strong can he really be? He placed both of his hands on the right bottom side, and slowly picked it up. It wasn't that heavy to him, surprisingly. Then, he lifted the whole thing over his shoulders. The teen laughed out of victory. He felt like Hercules. Okay, that's enough for the strength trial. Peter wanted to climb a much higher wall, because he's taking it all the way now. He took it easy for a moment, and told himself not to look down.

"You're sticking on tight, Peter. You won't fall. Don't think about falling. Don't think about falling. You got this. These sticky fingers are on your side. Trust in them."

As Peter continued to be confident in himself, he was scaling higher, and higher, and higher, until he reached the rooftop. The teen looked down for a moment. He couldn't believe he actually made it, but he wasn't ready to stop yet. He looked at the other rooftop across. If he managed to leap over that fence, maybe he can jump to that other rooftop. This may be a death wish here, but if he ever falls, he's got his sticky grip, and his pillow butt. Besides, it's not that high. The teen took a distance, inhaled and exhaled deeply, then ran at full speed. He jumped over to the other side like he was flying. His heart pounded faster. In spite of the excitement overwhelming him, that was actually fun. If he can do that, than he can pretty much do anything.

Peter leapt to another rooftop. Then another. He has never felt so alive. That's not all he did. The young lad decided to try parkour. He was running and leaping against the walls, catching attention to the people in the city. He performed flips and tricks on rooftops, even some breakdancing. He could walk across a tightrope like a professional trapeze artist. His balancing came natural, so falling won't worry him. Peter was a whole new man today. He became strong, fast, and flexible. All because of that radioactive spider. Its bite had effected his blood, giving him the super abilities of an advanced arachnid. If he knew this would happen to him, then he would've have thanked the little critter. A zero one day, and then a hero the next.

He practically owns this city now. Nothing can stop him. These powers are the next big step to becoming an Avenger. If joining their team required to have powers or skills, that's what Peter had. He's got the proportionate strength of an arachnid. The dude can crawl up walls, leap higher than an average human, possesses speed as fast as a cheetah. There's this radar in his head that detects danger. He has the keen senses of a blind man. Well, not that keen. He's also very smart, which means he could be an ideal pal to Tony Stark. Peter can make it into the Avengers. All he needs now is a costume, and a superheroy name. He could see it right now: Standing with the Avengers, accepting an award for their heroics. Peter giving autographs to fans from young to old. Crooks will run when they see him. He'd totally have late night sleepovers with Falcon, Cap, Hulk, and Natasha, bonding over pizza and video games. Super friends are better than normal friends.

Being an Avenger would probably mean he has to cut school. No more waking up early, no more piles of boring homework, and no more Carl. Some day when the time is right, he'll reveal his identity, and show them what Puny Parker has become. Yeah, Carl King can suck on that. Also, he'd be making big money with his new career. Uncle Ben and Aunt May would never have to work again. He could pay them back for what they've done for him. Maybe they could move into the Avengers' tower. The three of them, together like a big happy family. He'll have all the time to spend with them. If there's any evil or villainy plots washing over the city, he can let someone else take his place. He doesn't have to worry. The Avengers always have things covered. Although Ben has always dreamed of his nephew becoming a scientist, maybe he'd be just as proud to see him as an Avenger. Speaking of Avengers, he should start working on a costume. And a name. Wait, with all these powers, there's at least one aspect of spider behavior he didn't develop after that bite: Webs. Well, he played with enough brawns for the day. Now to try out the brains.

Hang-ups used to bring me down A twist of faith turned it all around Now I escape to a higher ground, cuz I'm free

Frustrations are finally dead I'm free to be the me that's in my head And no one can tell me where I should be going instead

Woah, I'm finally free Yeah, I can fly City lights are shining bright I feel so high New York City, you look brand new I can see ya from a new point of view, yeah I can see ya from a new point of view

#Spider-Man #Marvel #Peter Parker #MCU #origin #fanfic #Sorry it's so short #The next one will be longer

1 note · View note

ferryboatpeak · 5 years

Note

When are you writing more for mpreg harry? I love it!

IT’S TIME, ANON! Thanks to you and to all the other anons who have kept this story moving, one ask after another, we have reached the conclusion of our tale. I have a couple more asks to get to for epilogue-type stuff (and would entertain more), but this is it, the final installment of the main not-fic. Here we goooooo…

the rest of the story: [parts 1-7] [part 8][part 9] [part 10]

Nick resolves to make more of an effort. Harry’s the one on the cusp of major experimental surgery, not to mention the baby that’s going to result, and Nick can manage to hang out and watch romcoms if it’s going to make Harry happy. Even if it’s going to make Nick miserable in the end. Insulating himself from the depths of his emotions means that their time together has a strain that it’s never had before – suddenly Nick can’t be himself around Harry, and it’s a loss he feels keenly. But he’s so intent on bracing himself against the hurt of being close to Harry (but not close enough) that he doesn’t notice that Harry’s also more guarded than usual, retreating inside himself with the suspicion that he’s being judged.

Nevertheless, Harry craves Nick’s company, and both of these exceptionally pleasant human beings can manage to pass the time together without too much awkwardness. So that’s what they’re doing one night in March, just after Harry’s pregnancy hits 37 weeks. Harry’s quieter than usual, and he keeps shifting uncomfortably on the sofa. When Nick asks, he says he’s feeling kind of queasy, and his back hurts. Anne immediately says to call the doctor, but Harry brushes it off: he’s uncomfortable all the time these days, it’s not a big deal.

“I think you should call,” Nick says, pausing the movie. Harry’s called the doctor about yoga poses and eating honey and boxing and multiple drafts of his birth plan, so what harm’s it going to do to call her now?

Harry calls, curled up with his head on the arm of the sofa, gravity holding his phone to his ear. The doctor hears him out, asking a few questions. As Harry listens to what she has to say, his expression changes. “Oh,” Harry says. “I thought that…” He squirms into a sitting position, hand on his stomach. “Is it too soon?”

Across the room, Nick sees Anne tense up in her chair as well. “All right,” Harry says into the phone, “if you’re sure.” He tosses the phone onto the cushion next to him. “Well,” he announces to Nick and Anne, leaning forward and planting both feet on the floor. His knees are spread apart to accommodate his belly, bulging toward the edge of the sofa under the capital-lettered DAMN on the front of his hoodie. He smacks his his palms down onto his knees decisively. “I’m having a baby tonight.” The doctor says his symptoms sound an awful lot like labor, and so they’re going to rush him into surgery immediately.

Nick squashes down the panicky feeling in his chest. Not about me, he reminds himself. He knows false bravado when he sees it, and Harry doesn’t need to worry about Nick’s panic on top of his own. While Harry’s on the phone with Jeff, making arrangements for security and transportation, Nick fiddles with the laces of his shoes, tying and untying them as he tries to figure out the right way to say goodbye to somebody who’s off to have an unprecedented baby.

Giving up, he grabs his jacket. “Hold on,” Harry says into the phone, and then angles it away from his mouth to talk to Nick. “You’re leaving?” The question is uncertain, a strain in Harry’s voice.

Nick pauses, jacket halfway on. “Unless you…”

“Come with,” Harry says quickly.

Nick sits down. “Of course I will.”

At the hospital, Harry’s dark-windowed car pulls into a loading dock. The door rolls shut behind them, and they’re escorted through the back entrances and maintenance corridors of the facility. Harry’s pale and serious-looking, moving purposefully through the halls in the center of a tight knot of security and doctors. In the end, Nick doesn’t say anything at all, just squeezes Harry’s hand before he’s led away into the surgical suite and Nick and Anne are shown to a private waiting area.

They wait. Jeff joins them, and Gemma. Nick calls someone to pick up the dogs for the night. He finds a wall outlet; he’s got a phone charger in his bag, thank god. Jeff taps away at his laptop, and Anne tries to read a book but mostly ends up pacing.

It feels like hours and hours go by. Well after midnight, one of the doctors appears. His news is directed to Jeff (because Jeff’s the one who’s got permission to access all of Harry’s medical information under whatever the British version of HIPAA is). Blah blah blah some biology i’m not thinking about. In short, the procedure went well. Everybody exhales. Anne, the doctor says, Harry’d like you to come in and be with the baby while we finish stitching him up.

Anne dashes back with the doctor. Nick feels like he’s crossed into some kind of blank space. Harry’s not pregnant any more; that strange thing is over. No more risk, no more uncertainty. Healthy baby, healthy Harry. No more hospital vigil to keep, and now Nick has no idea what he’s supposed to do. He asks Jeff if he should go. Nah, Jeff says, he wanted you here, at least wait to see him, if you can.

They wait, and they wait. Nick’s starting to doze off on the hard hospital sofa when Anne comes out to tell them that Harry’s been moved to a room and is ready to see everyone. Quiet night with his baby, recovering from surgery? No, friends, this is Harry Styles, riding a wave of postpartum oxytocin, and he is JUBILANT. He is VICTORIOUS. He has GESTATED and BIRTHED an ENTIRE BABY with his VERY OWN BODY and he is ready to SHOW EVERYBODY and be VENERATED.

Harry’s sat up in his hospital bed, cradling a little burrito of a baby in an ill-fitting hospital hat and a flannel hospital-printed blanket. The hair falling out of his hair clip is stringy and his face is puffy and he’s completely radiant. Everyone crowds around the bed, craning their necks to get a peek at the little scrunched-up face, congratulating Harry and telling him she’s beautiful.

Gemma pulls a heavy vinyl-covered hospital chair up to the head of the bed and Harry hands the baby over to her. Jeff walks the perimeter of the room, gathering up the paperwork that’s lying around and erasing Harry’s name and the baby’s name from the whiteboard on the wall. Nick hovers in the background, not as purposeful as Jeff, while Gemma holds her niece and Harry giddily chatters about the gory medical details and the baby’s exceptional Apgar score and the first song he played for her.

(I feel that Harry puts a lot of thought into the first song he wants to cue up after the baby’s born, and I do not think that Sign of the Times would be the answer. I’m pretty sure it’s something involving Stevie Nicks.)

Nick leans a knee on the deep windowsill and presses his cheek to the cold glass, looking out at quiet London in the still hours of the morning. By the time he gets home, it’ll be almost his old wake-up hour. Getting a couple hours of sleep before heading to work is going to feel like he’s back to his Breakfast Show routine. At least he’s not headed there straight from the hospital. Straight through crew, Nick thinks, turning back to the room to contrast teenage Harry with the older, postpartum version in front of him.

Gemma stands up with the baby. “Nick, want a turn?”

“Of course.” She gently transfers the baby to him, and he takes her place in the bedside chair. For a moment, it’s only Nick and Harry smiling at each other as the baby sleeps in Nick’s arms.

It occurs to Harry that this is nice. Really nice. Awash in oxytocin and empowerment, he’s completely confident that having a baby is the best thing he’s ever done (the best thing that ANYBODY has ever done, EVER). And Nick’s looking down at his baby so tenderly, and that makes it all even better. “Not so bad, is it?” he asks Nick, a little smugly, gesturing at the space that holds Nick and the baby and himself.

Nick, who’s just been wondering if he can get away with kissing the baby’s forehead, is completely confused. “Why would it be bad?”

You didn’t like the surrogate thing, Harry says, but this isn’t terrible, right?

“Oh my god.” It takes him a second to put it together, that Harry’s assumed he didn’t like the rumors because he didn’t want to be linked to Harry and the baby. Not because it’s been 13 weeks of Twitter and the tabs and everyone he knows blithely joking about Nick’s innermost feelings. Nick swallows hard and opens his eyes wide, to dry them out. “Please, don’t ever think I don’t want this.”

Because he’s still trying to expose his eyeballs to as much air as possible, he’s got to keep looking at Harry as Harry’s expression shifts from bemusement to relief to something else. Jeff must have some kind of sixth sense for Harry’s eyes welling up; in Nick’s peripheral vision he can see him nudging Anne and Gemma out of the room. The door closes behind the three of them.

Nick apologizes, and Harry sniffles a little and wipes his eye on the corner of the thin hospital sheet, and finally asks, well, if you weren’t trying to get clear of the rumors, then why were you being so weird?

“It’s just hard,” Nick says, and apologizes again, because he’s sorry to lay all of this on Harry right now, but he’s got to make sure that Harry knows he’s not mad at him. “And none of this is your problem,” he starts. The baby’s impossibly light and warm in the crook of his elbow. “I’m just… jealous.”

It’s the right word, the one that unlocks all of it. “I’m jealous of the other… the other parent, whoever it is…” – Harry opens his mouth, but Nick talks over him – “whoever it is now, or whoever it will be. I’m jealous of you for having a baby out of nowhere when it’s never going to be that easy for me.” Nick’s picking up speed now, needing to get it all out before Harry’s family comes back in. “I’m jealous of her…” – Nick nods his head down at the baby– “…for belonging to you…” …when I don’t, he thinks but doesn’t say. He takes a deep breath. “I’m jealous of both of you for being a family I’m not part of.”

Harry’s face crumples, and Nick does the only thing he can think of to cheer him up, which is to hand the baby back to him. He apologizes again, and tells Harry that this doesn’t change anything, he’s still going to be here for him, it doesn’t have to tank their friendship. Harry’s speechless and teary-eyed, clutching the baby with both arms. Nick keeps talking into the silence. Unless you want… I get it if you’re not comfortable… well, I can go, it’s probably just better if I go, all right? The chair screeches against the floor as he scoots back from the bed.

Pieces are falling into place for Harry. The glow he felt back at the beginning, when this was just a joke, and Nick would pat his belly and ask how the baby’s doing. Nick finding him scared and confused on the floor of the bathroom, Nick taking him to his first doctor’s appointment. Nick poking at the baby. Nick picking him up at an icy service station in the middle of the night. The sinking awfulness of the suspicion that Nick was pulling away. His instinctive request for Nick to come with him to the hospital. Nick’s the person he’s wanted with him, all along.

Nick’s walking toward the door when Harry finally says something. “You want this?” he asks, voice cracking, pointing with his chin to his baby, to his body, to everything.

“So much,” Nick says, leaning his shaking hands on the plastic frame at the end of the bed. “So much.”

“Okay,” Harry says, smiling. He ducks his head to ineffectually wipe the side of his face on the polyester shoulder of his hospital gown. “Okay, yeah.”

Nick walks slowly back to the head of the bed, and offers Harry a tissue from the box on the side table. Harry carefully shifts the baby’s weight onto one arm so he can take it and wipe his eyes and blow his nose. He pats the mattress next to him. “Can you fit?”

Nick can’t, not really, but he squeezes onto the bed anyway, one leg stretched out next to Harry’s and the other braced on the floor. He puts one arm around Harry and the other around the baby, still sleeping in the crook of Harry’s elbow undisturbed by the momentous developments around her. Nick kisses Harry’s temple and Harry turns his head to kiss him properly, and part of the joy of not actually writing this fic means that I don’t have to think of a perfect ending sentence, so I’m just going to leave you here, with Nick and Harry kissing while the baby sleeps in their arms. THE END.

#first guy ever verse #i need to do a rebloggable post with links to all of it #so if any crafty people wanna make me a header i'd appreciate it

22 notes · View notes

rumandflamingo · 5 years

Text

Choosing Wisely

This was inspired by an image of an icon between a friend and I on twitter...

(This is a direct transcription of the tweets!)

---

OKAY! Sugar Daddy!Croc and Ichiji, let's go!

It's not that he's an idiot, it's just, he's used to always getting things handed to him, be it gifts from suitors or people trying to worm their way into Germa 66. For right now, let's say Modern!AU.

SO! Ichiji meets Crocodile at his casino one night, as Judge had forced him to attend the large gathering the man was putting on. The lights are low and he doesn't realize that the man he's bitching to about his father is Sir Crocodile until the other man decides to respond.

(Everyone knows that Ichiji isn't a big fan of his father, but as heir he doesn't have a choice to leave.) Crocodile is amused by the Vinsmokes' anger, inviting the man back to his office for drinks. Ichiji wakes up the next morning in a large bed, water and aspirin next to him.

Later that day, a large stack of books arrives at his office, with a card reading "Consider me intrigued. - C". Ichiji is reminded that Crocodile and he had gotten into an argument about recent economic literature, and is shocked that the man wishes to continue.

(He's used to Judge ignoring his comments, his plans. It's weird that someone cares about his opinion.)

He's happily (as much as that emotion makes sense to him) reading when Judge busts in, exclaiming that Crocodile agreed to the large loan that Judge had asked him for.

Ichiji is shocked, given that the older man expressed disdain for his father, and even more so when he realizes that the deal that Crocodile accepted was his original one that Judge had rejected. Quickly opening his email, he realizes that he had sent his plan sometime during

their conversation the previous night. Judge could care less, just happy that he's got more money to experiment with.

A few days later, Ichiji is invited back to Rain Dinners for lunch with Crocodile, and they spend the whole lunch and several hours later discussing the deal and all types of theory and politics. Ichiji is taken back by how much the other man knows given that he's simply a casino owner, and says as much. Crocodile winks and says that he spent much of his younger years as a major player in the criminal game.

‏It's late before they both realize it, and Crocodile offers Ichiji a room for the night. The redhead accepts it and is led to a different part of the casino than he was last time.

Crocodile brings him to a large ornate door, and leaves him to his devices, but not without a quick kiss to his hand and a book. Ichiji reads the entire book, detailing the business side of owning a casino, before falling asleep.

He's awoken by a Miss All Sunday (who looks oddly familiar to Nico Robin on Sanji's "crew"), and is told Crocodile won't be back for several days, but he sends his regards. She hands him a briefcase before departing, containing documents regarding Crocodile's deal with Judge.

Meetings like this happen often, twice a week, sometimes three. He is never invited back to bed with Crocodile, but Ichiji finds that he doesn't mind. Somewhere around their sixth meeting, he starts to notice little things.

Gifts. They're gifts. A new set of cufflinks here, tickets to the concert that he wanted to go see and a notice saying that Crocodile has to postpone his meeting with Judge due to a casino event (which happened to be the same day as the concert) there, new boots in his color etc.

Every now and then Crocodile will inquire about the gifts, and Ichiji can't help but feel...excited...about them, excited about the prospect that someone likes him enough to think of him. (He wonders if this is what Sanji feels like, being able to express as he likes.)

As the weeks move by, Crocodile and he go out more often. A gentleman as always, Crocodile opens the door with a hand on the small of his back, gives him a quick kiss on the cheek as they depart. He can't help feel that he's missing something, but shrugs and happily accepts them.

Things are too good, it occurs to him late one night after a horse race. Things like this don't happen to Ichiji, they happen to Sanji, to Reiju. Never to him. Most people just want an in to Germa, but Crocodile already has that. So why does he continue to hang around Ichiji?

At their next meeting, where Ichiji has worked up the courage to ask (and what a notion that is), he's greeted by a different man. Tall, blonde, and wearing a loud pink coat. Even with sunglasses covering his eyes, Ichiji knows that grin.

Doflamingo, his brain supplies. He's commonly known as the fashion designer Heavenly Yaksha, but there are rumors he also goes by the name Joker, a major player in the criminal underground. He's shocked to see him in Crocodile's office, given the man said he no longer played in the underground, but Ichiji assumes this was the other shoe. He's shocked again when Crocodile enters his office, orange vest missing and a slick black vest taking its place. He praises Doflamingo's choice before noticing Ichiji.

After quick introductions, Doflamingo produces another box that is handed to the redhead, salacious grin plastered on his face. After Crocodile's prompting, he retreats to the en-suite bathroom, opening the box to reveal a gorgeous red suit.

He eagerly puts it on, surprised at receiving such a gift. He's greeted with a wolf whistle from Doflamingo and a nod from Crocodile. The dark haired man informs him that they are all going out for lunch. Ichiji doesn't mind, still in awe of the suit.

Things get...weird after that. Along with Crocodile's gifts, he starts receiving clothing boxes as well. Pants, shoes, belts, shirts, any type of clothing he can think of keeps arriving at his office. He's confused, but still happy that he's receiving gifts.

Things come to a head when during his regular meeting time with Crocodile, he instead is privy between the owner and the designer. He's confused at first, until he hears his name. Suddenly, everything falls into place and he realizes that for a while, Crocodile was courting him (him!), and now he's has both men (very powerful and very strong) courting him (again, him!). He's shell shocked and doesn't realize that both men are staring at him. Ichiji doesn't know what to do, so he says "lunch?" and hopes for the best.

And it is good, Ichiji thinks. He's got two men who are obviously vying for his affection. It's...odd, but good. Dressed in Doflamingo's suit and rings from Crocodile, the three of them head to lunch.

(TBC)

#ehehehehhehehehwbrfskdejr #RARE PAIR #one piece #LISTEN #I JUST LOVE RARE PAIRS #UNF #Sir Crocodile #Crocodile #Crocodile One Piece #Vinsmoke Ichiji #Ichiji #donquixote doflamingo #Doflamingo #Idea Thread #rumandflamingo #choosingwisely

14 notes · View notes

timetraveltravez-blog · 6 years

Link

'Dark Phoenix' Is the End of an 'X-Men' Era

Vanity Fair: “In the final days before it’s absorbed by Disney and potentially folded into the Marvel Cinematic Universe, the X-Men film franchise will take one more stand with Dark Phoenix”

CBR: “Disney previously signaled its intention to release every Fox film completed or in production by the time the acquisition is finalized. However, the entertainment conglomerate is expected to scale back production on pricier projects and those that don’t fit into the company’s family- and franchise-friendly formula.”

Forbes: “Dark Phoenix may be a kind of series finale to the 18.5-year old X-Men franchise prior to the Disney deal which would bring those characters under the umbrella of Kevin Feige’s Marvel Cinematic Universe.”

TheMarySue: “The trailer for Dark Phoenix came out this week. It is the last installment in the 20th Century Fox X-Men universe before Disney/Marvel eventually relaunches the franchise.

It’s hard to believe that the X-Men universe we know today is as old as a senior in high school right now, but the 18-year-old series has been mostly a failure with one of the biggest failures being the 2006 film X-Men: The Last Stand. Looking at the trailer for this upcoming film, it seems like a lot of the same.”

“what they're actually saying here is that Fox want to really fuck the Xmen franchise over properly before Marvel Studios gets it...”

Those are just a few. if you want more, search it yourself.

That said, in 2020 or so, the X-Men will finally be in the MCU timeline. Therefore, everything is going to be entirely rebooted and starting from scratch. A new fresh era of the X-Men will begin from this point forward. I’m talking about where we can see the O5 as the core members and suddenly becoming a story for the Krakoa event. Here is where we get to see how the X-Men first gathered and became the X-Men we forever (knew) know today. Just saying since Marvel usually wants to make the comics more like the movies. Perhaps the Krakoa story line can be a fresh start? If Marvel’s going to introduce the X-Franchise as a fresh start it will has to begin with the Krakoa event because it can be offered up in the memory of Len Wein who passed away not too long ago and Dave Cockrum who were the reason for the X-Men we know today.

Maybe we get to see Havok, Polaris, Banshee, Warpath, Wolverine, Colossus, Storm, Nightcrawler and Sunfire in this new era for the Krakoa event. Bold characters are the characters that FOX hasn’t used and will give Marvel a chance to explore them in the MCU before meeting Magneto. Yes, I know, Polaris is in The Gifted where FOX/Marvel are doing a really good job with her character but that’s a different timeline, taking place after the DOFP events. Speaking of Polaris, there are many things FOX failed to introduce that Marvel can now look into and introduce them in the MCU after X-Men: Dark Phoenix, which might be the last "X-Men" film before they join the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Marvel can now carry out properly the introduction of the O5 and furthermore, the introduction of Magneto and his daughter, Polaris who became the sixth member to join the X-Men.

As I mentioned, we have Krakoa, where Polaris took the big stand and saved the day. Not only that, but this is where all the interesting XM started.

FOX never took the X-Men into space and Marvel now can take the stand to do so. This will lead us to the Shi’ar Empire, where Eric The Red made Havok and Polaris as his crew members of the Shi’ar. Maybe even introducing the Starjammers? It’ll be a fun ride, trust me.

Another thing FOX was unsuccessful in achieving, one of the most iconic stories from Chris Claremont, was the INFERNO. The introduction of Mr Sinister. FOX had failed yat again in their attempt to secure this one. This is something I’m sure Marvel is planing to dig up. We might get to see Polaris leading the Marauders as Malice. Because in this story, Claremont has Polaris as the central character after Mr Sinister.

Then we have another epic team called The X-Factor, where Havok and Polaris took over as the team leaders. This is another great opportunity for Marvel to introduce Havok, Polaris (as leaders), Guido, Wolfsbane, and Mutiple Man. Though last year there were a reports that James Franco would be producing and starring in his own superhero movie in Fox’s XM universe. I don’t know how that’d play since Marvel is taking over but I do know Marvel wants FOX to release all their films they have in development before Marvel takes over. I agree, since there can’t be 2 Marvels.

The only think that I don’t know how will work in the MCU is the House of M. I don’t know how that’d work knowing the twins aren’t Magneto’s kids, let alone are no longer mutants. In my perspective, maybe Marvel can add a few random kids besides Polaris to be his kids for that timeline specifically. Or maybe have Scarlet Witch going crazy into wanting to bring her brother back and created the House of M so she can be with her brother. I don’t know. It’s just doesn’t make sense, but I would like to see a House of M movie.

All I know is that I can’t wait for Marvel to reboot everything and make a fresh start by using stories that FOX never got the chance to use. Inferno, X-Factor, Shi’ar, Starjammers, and Krakoa come to mind where Havok and Polaris are mostly in all of them.

PS: If you don’t like the idea of Havok and Polaris together well that’s your problem and your opinion. Let us preface with this that yes, I'm aware that you have every right to your opinion. However, your opinion probably doesn't matter, even when you think it does. Most of the time, my opinion doesn’t matter. And neither does yours. Opinions are great. We all have them. Your opinions have no basis in defining what you’re all about. They aren’t the truth. They have no purpose other than to hurt or harm the characters you pretend to like. There is no rhyme or reason beyond making the other characters feel superior to them in some way or another. It’s not about you, it’s about them.

61 notes · View notes

canyousevmyheavydirtysoul · 6 years

Text

Oh, Those Summer Nights. (Part 7) (Brendon Urie x Reader)

Another night spent holed up in a hotel room, lounging lazily atop the crisp linen of the unfamiliar bed and absentmindedly flicking through TV channels. Tyler and Josh were scheduled to play a show at the Sonics Arena about a half hour out tonight, and a quick glance at the bedside alarm clock told you that they were only seconds away from going onstage.

You had opted to sit out of tonight’s show, having so far been to virtually every other one on this tour, and chose to rather stay in your suite; hotel nights weren’t too common while on the road, after all, and you wanted to get the most out of the luxurious boarding before being re-confined to the cramped tour bus for the next however many weeks.

The only problem was that without the boys and rest of the crew, you were alone. Now usually, that would’ve been absolutely fine by you but tonight that wasn’t the case.

It could’ve been a subconscious thing – a side effect as a result of the complexity of the whole Josh/Brendon situation – but you had the unusual desire to be in the presence of other people, prompting you to gather your jacket and purse and slip on some shoes before heading for the Italian restaurant you had passed on the corner of the hotel’s street.

You could really do with some pasta right about now.

Brendon lips curved into a huge fake smile. Normally, the smile would have been real, but he wasn’t feeling in the happiest of moods this night. His facial muscles relaxed a moment later, after a blinding flash went off.

He blinked a couple times to rid his eyes of the attack of white light before wrapping his arms around the two fans on either side of him in quick yet affectionate hugs, assuring them it was no problem as they continuously thanked him for stopping to indulge their request for a picture.

Waving his hand as a final goodbye, Brendon continued on his way, stuffing both hands into the pockets of his jacket and watching the way his breath transformed into little wisps of fog as he exhaled. There was an undeniable chill in the air tonight. In retrospect, he probably should’ve recognised it as foreshadowing that no good would come from the next few hours, but he was too headstrong to even give that so much as a wavering thought.

He had come to Seattle for one reason and one reason only – and that reason was currently sitting alone at a table for two in the restaurant he was strolling past, leisurely sipping a glass of iced tea while scanning over the menu.

Brendon’s breath hitched when he caught sight of you, and his footsteps halted. You were sitting in the farthest corner from the front window, almost entirely sheltered from the peering gazes of passing pedestrians. But even so, he spotted you immediately; it was as if he had a sixth sense solely dedicated to all things you.

Every fibre of his being was encouraging him to rush into the eatery, gather you in his arms and just kiss the hell out of you. And after a slight moment of hesitation he decided to do just that.

Well, part of it, anyway.

The rushing in part, to be exact. The other two parts would come later.

Hopefully.

A fresh gust of frosty air whizzed into the restaurant as Brendon opened the door and strode inside. The air inside was toasty – thanks to the heating systems installed in every corner – so the singer shrugged off his coat and slung it over his arm before tangling a hand in his hair and neatening it up a bit.

He started for your table, heart pounding so loud he could practically hear it and an adrenaline overload pumping through his body. His mind was on a rampage with thoughts of what he was going to say to you. It had been all he could think about on the plane ride over, during which he was able to craft a respectable mental outline of what his speech would entail. However, as soon as he had begun walking over to you, that outline disintegrated, and so he went with saying the only thing he could in this situation.

“Hi.”

You didn’t have to raise your gaze from the menu to know who it was – you could sense him. Your lips parted in a small sigh as your eyes fluttered shut for a moment. It would be a lie to say that you hadn’t expected him to show up again at some point, but you figured that he would at least have enough of a grasp on the concept of ‘privacy’ to choose to make his appearance at your hotel door instead.

But this is Brendon we’re talking about; you should’ve known better than to expect anything less than a public declaration of his love for you.

Said declaration didn’t seem to be happening yet, though, so you turned to look up at him. He gave you a weak smile filled with so much optimism it almost made you cave right then and there.

But you renounced the urge and rather returned his greeting. “Hi.”

“Do you…” he moved his eyes and cocked his head to gesture at the empty seat across from you, “Do you mind?”

Leaning back in your seat, your shoulders slouched as you sighed heavily and extended a hand to indicate that it was fine.

Brendon moved awkwardly, slinging his coat over the back of the chair before languidly seating himself at the table. He cleared his throat and rested his forearms on the maroon tablecloth; it was clear that he was on edge.

You stared at your ex with a blank face. Brendon used to be able to read you outstandingly well, but it seemed as though that ability had degenerated a decade ago, because over the last year or so, he found you to be wholly unreadable.

There had been a significant change in your character – you weren’t the girl from that summer eleven years ago anymore. And while Brendon loved that – loved the person you had become – it admittedly threw him completely off the rails. He had absolutely no idea how to speak to you, and he’d been failing miserably at it up until now.

Everything he said to you seemed to come out in a way he hadn’t intended it to, resulting in you becoming increasingly pissed off at him. From here on out he wanted to make sure not to make any more linguistic mistakes, which is why the two of you sat in silence – just staring at one another – for a solid three minutes.

At the precise moment that Brendon decided to open his mouth to speak, the waiter appeared and asked for your food order.

“Oh, uh…” Brendon startled, doing a quick once over of the menu before looking up at the waiter, “I’ll have the alfredo, and a lasagne for the lady. Extra cheese.”

He handed the menus over, mentally praying that he’d gotten your order right and that your preferences hadn’t changed; he exhaled in relief when you didn’t object.

“Certainly,” the waiter nodded slightly, “Anything to drink for you, sir?”

Brendon reached a hand up to his throat, which he suddenly realised was uncomfortably dry. “Just a glass of ice water, thanks.”

With a polite smile, the waiter turned and headed back to the kitchen and Brendon turned back to you.

“You remembered,” you intoned, the tiniest of smiles tugging at your lips; Brendon perked up ever so slightly at the sight, thrilled that he had gotten something other than a rage-fuelled reaction from you.

“Yeah,” he susurrated, running a hand through his puffy hair as he tossed you a lopsided grin, “How could I forget? You finished practically the entire dish by yourself when the restaurant served it at the buffet that one night.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, crossing your arms across your chest and shifting your gaze around. Brendon’s laugh sounded across the table and you couldn’t supress a few giggles of your own. “I was so sick the next day.”

He laughed even harder. “You were crying, saying how you were never eating it ever again, and then-“

“I ordered it for lunch the next day,” you nodded, laughing too as you shook your head at the memory.

“You were so stubborn,” he shook his head, leaning forward on his forearms as he smiled at you, “You wouldn’t even let me look after you when you were sick.”

“I didn’t want you to see me all ‘ugh’,” you defended, holding up your hands and arching your brows, “Sue me for trying to keep the romance alive.”

“The romance was very much alive,” he scoffed, cocking one brow at you with a slight smirk.

“Yeah, ‘cause you forced yourself into my hotel room and took care of me anyway so that I was back to normal before the sun even set. And then we…” you trailed off, letting those three words hang in the air as you averted your gaze downwards and delicately chewed on your bottom lip.

Both of you knew exactly what you were referring to.

“I’ve had tons of amazing nights in my twenty-plus years, but that night was without a doubt the best night of my life so far,” Brendon spoke, voice so much gentler and amused smirk replaced by the sincerest of expressions.

You looked up at him through your lashes and swallowed.

“I say ‘so far’ ‘cause,” he gulped, gaze flickering to your lips briefly before returning to your eyes, “I hope that some night in the near future will top that one.”

With slightly quivering hands, you raised your iced tea to your lips and took a sip to soothe your all-of-a-sudden-parched throat before setting it back down with a harsh respire.

Setting your elbow on the table, you tangled your hand in your hair and lifted your gaze to meet Brendon’s.

“Bren, I think you should know… Josh and I… we’re… kinda…” you stumbled over your words, not being able to fully enunciate the point you wanted to get across.

What you were able to get out was enough, though, and Brendon’s body visibly stiffened. He was silent for a long moment, staring at you blankly as he let the idea properly sink in. When he eventually did speak, it wasn’t what you’d expected to hear.

“Okay,” he nodded, pursing his lips, “I get that.”

You tried and failed to mask your bewilderment. “You do?” you gawked.

Another nod. “Yeah. I mean,” he ran a hand through his quiff and shrugged, arching his brows, “It makes sense. Was bound to happen sooner or later.”

You were thoroughly perplexed at this point; Brendon’s reaction practically contradicted all of his words and actions over the last few months. He picked up on this confusion, and tossed you a light smirk before leaning forward again.

“I am upset about it, obviously, but I knew it was coming,” he explained, fingers absentmindedly swiping away the condensation on the outside of his glass of water, “Just… can I ask why?”

You cocked your head and frowned; Brendon sighed.

“Are you with him because you want to be? Or is it because of circumstance?”

“Huh, that’s funny,” you muttered, rolling your tongue along the inside of your cheek.

“What is?”

“Tyler asked me the exact same thing.”

The singer swallowed, shrugging again and slanting back in his chair. “Guess you could say he’s rooting for me in this one.”

“Right.” You cleared your throat, eyes marginally squinted in suspicion.

The waiter came by with the food, setting your meals down and asking if you needed anything else. After you said no, he turned and made his way back to the kitchen, leaving the two of you to tuck in.

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked me to leave.”

“You haven’t said anything to piss me off that much,” you shrugged, cutting a bite from the lasagne, “Yet.”

“Obviously my main goal here is to win you back – and I will achieve that goal if it’s the last thing I do – but,” he looked at you earnestly, “for now I’ll settle for you not wanting to strangle me every time we have a conversation.”

“Mm,” you narrowed your eyes and took a sip of tea, “I wanna be friends with you, Brendon; I’m totally on board with that. But you’re wasting your time trying to win me back, because I assure you that it’s not going to happen.”

He nodded, somewhat mockingly.

“I’m serious,” you dropped your fork and steeled your gaze, “I’m over you.”

“Alright, babe.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

You groaned. “If you know, then why are you still trying?”

“Because… If you’re really over me,” he reached over to brush your hair out of your face, letting his fingers linger against your skin for a little longer than necessary, “I’ll just have to make you fall in love with me all over again.”

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

Taglist:

@darknessdancing

@raversam

@username-number-01834

@moosesmoose

@underscoredarcy

@cupcaitlyn96

58 notes · View notes