#I think the main reason she likes to steal shoes is for the sake of being chased | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delldarling · 3 years

Text

the city is hoarding hearts | arroven

male dragon x gender/body neutral reader 9015 words lemon | mention of drinking alcohol, face riding, size difference, fairly submissive monster, penetrative sex, poetry, touch starved note: behold! my modern epic fantasy universe! this world first appeared back in August for my Patreon Story of the Month, and though I haven’t revisited Arroven again just yet, I did return to this universe for December’s Story of the Month as well. 👀

Magic, despite people's claim to the contrary, is beyond rare these days. No one really claims that it isn’t real, that it didn’t once run rampant with it’s existence. After all, it’s impossible to deny when people have things like the architecture of the North to reference. The towers built into their seaside cliffs, spiraling up like the serpents of old reaching for the sun? Without magic, without gravity spells, and an everlasting charm on those spells, thick enough to double as a coat of paint, the towers would have fallen into the sea by now, dashed against the dark stones jutting out from the deep green waters. Many people, though especially the elves, think that the towers will endure long after the cliffs have crumbled into the water. Floating relics, you’ve heard more than a few people murmur, wonder in their voices, wouldn’t that be something?

Even more common now, there are people the world over that claim they have a spark of magic left still, that they can feel the rhythms of the magical tide flooding back over the world.

She Wakes is written on street corners and thick posters, spray painted on the underside of the colossal Echo Bridge. No matter how often they have workers doing their best to clean the graffiti up, the giant letters are back in place a few days later.

Despite how much you’d like to believe them, as everyone dreams of the rumors, of magic returning, you’ve never put too much stock into the whispered words. Why would you? No matter how often you’ve spent watching wispy clouds streak by your window, no matter how often you’ve taken a moment to reflect on the thought, to nurse a seed of hope… Nothing has ever come of it.

It’s why you keep trying to ignore that heavy ache in the arch of your feet, or the way you keep noticing advertisements for Arroven.

History books and the elderly all say that this is how it starts when magic finally blooms in someone’s blood. There’s an itch. An ache. A constant irritant that starts in your extremities and wriggles into your veins, and then coincidences will start to pile up. Small things, like noticing whenever the clock strikes 11:11 on whatever clock you pass. Or maybe it’s having the luck to switch the radio station to your favorite song without fail, or—

“Stop it,” you mutter to yourself when you spot it. You breath puffs out into the chilly air, adding to the fog lingering in the streets. You kneel, brushing aside some of the fallen damask leaves, their velvety backs clinging to your touch even as you do your best to shake them off. Just barely hidden under their litter is a postcard. Without even glancing at it, you know what you’ll find on the back, but you’re drawn to pick it up anyway, turning it over. It depicts a sprawling city with green undertones, the word Arroven written in a sloping, beautiful script along the bottom of the image. The edges are creased, almost lovingly, and there’s a small puncture hole at the top left corner, as if someone had it pinned to a corkboard for no short amount of time.

Until this moment, you haven’t picked up any of the advertisements for Arroven. The stories all say that you can ignore it, that the magic will go away and fade from you like an ebbing tide if you only will it hard enough, but… You don’t know that you really want it to leave. Those seeds have hope might not have fully sprouted, but their roots have run deep, snaking through your veins. You swallow past the dryness in your throat and turn the postcard over, wonder if you’re going to get an address, or if there are words of encouragement intended for the last owner.

The postcard is faintly yellowed at the edges, but it’s otherwise blank.

You wilt, disappointed, but you don’t throw it back down onto the stones. If you check the railway listings, you’re more than certain that you’ll find a one way trip to Arroven suddenly dirt cheap. The pathway that will lead you there is probably paved with strangely good fortune, more invisible hooks ready to find a secure hold in your heart. You might as well find out if there’s anything to these claims of magic. You have far too much hope shored up in your bones and pumping through your chest not to at least try.

A month later, and you’re starting to believe that whatever magic that led you this far has all but fled. Of course, you’re more than content with where it’s left you, a word rattling around in the back of your brain and clamoring to spill from your lips: home. Arroven feels like home.

It’s not just the city though. It’s your place. It’s the stones that pave the streets and the people that fill them. It’s the smell of bakeries and the faint hint of exhaust. It’s the clean smell of paper and ink from the stationary shop you’d stumbled into on your first night in Arroven, and the proprietor’s barely-there smile. You’d made fast friends with her almost instantly, like it was fate.

Mora, despite her solemn stature, and the vast amount of spiraling tattoos disappearing under the neck of her cleanly pressed shirts, is beyond kind. She possesses a startling, sparkling wit that leaves a smile lingering on your lips whenever you think of her snappy little comments. She’d given you a job in her shop a few days after you’d first arrived, perking up as soon as you’d come back into her shop. She needed a cashier, so she could have more time to develop her own inks, and then a few days after that you literally stumbled onto a showing of a furnished apartment. It had fit all of your needs, and your shoes had sunk into the plush carpet of the bedroom, like a quiet voice in the place asking you to stay.

The ache in your feet had eased, that strange little irritant in the back of your mind fading with every passing day. You haven’t put too much thought into magic since then, as there hasn’t been a reason when you have a new job to keep you busy, and a city to explore on your days off. You love it here, the sea green patina on the copper statues, the swirling architecture that extends to every building in the city, no matter how large or small. Besides, you know if you go looking into magic again, at the message boards or if you go hunting down books, it’s likely that they’ll all say much the same thing: She Wakes, and her gift will blossom in you, but not Forever. She moves us like pawns, adjusting us Just So, no matter how small the slot She needs filled.

You’ve read it all before, have heard debates shouted in the streets or argued about in the back corner of classrooms. Magic moves through people as it wills, and no amount of pleading will keep it in you unless you’re a mage, and even then, that takes years of study. If the magic that led you here only existed long enough for you to make your home? Then you’ll have to be satisfied with that.

And you are, until that ache in your feet starts up again.

Late one evening, as you’re locking the back door of Rumoura’s, it floods through you fast enough to steal your breath. There’s no voice, no heavy hand on your shoulder, just a fierce pain that wells, threatening to bring tears to your eyes, until you turn to the right. You blink, surprise at the sudden and complete lack of pain, and take a ragged breath as you pocket the key to the door. When you feel steady enough, when your lungs no longer ache, you turn to the right and start walking.It takes you about ten minutes to realize you’re headed towards the main park, the one with ancient ruins of a half finished serpent tower peppered throughout its boundaries. You’ve walked through once, one golden afternoon with Mora, and you’ve been meaning to come back sometime on your lunch break. The past few days have been busy though, with a flood of students coming back to Arroven, stocking up on both casual and serious supplies from Mora’s shop.

Besides, there’s always been time to explore at your leisure now that you’re living here.

Two towering trees make a grand arch over the park entrance, and the slow swirl of damask leaves spiraling down from the branches make you laugh.

“Coincidence,” you murmur, a small smile curling your lips, and you walk into the park. The paths are well lit, even this late in the evening. This part of the city doesn’t boast about it’s lack of crime, but most people feel it. There always seems to be groups of people roaming: Elven tourists, hooking arms and laughing over cups of tea and coffee, Orcish artists and musicians, setting up on benches or street corners, busking for the simple sake of sharing their art with others. You wander through the park, expecting to simply take in the sights among the meandering attendees, but.. You haven’t seen anyone for the past few minutes. Your footsteps start to slow, wondering if you missed a sign somewhere and you have the nagging feeling that you just need to find someone.

Cautiously, you keep moving, the sudden bout of nervousness easing when you see someone up ahead. They’re sitting at the foot of one of the rather large blocks of toppled variscite, a dark hoodie hiding their face. Their shoulders are broad, and their clothes are a little more ragged than you see on people around here, but it gives off more of a well lived look than a dangerous one. They’re tapping the toes of their boots together, the tread of them worn smooth, and a low, masculine hum reaches your ears the closer you get. He stops as soon as you’re within speaking range though, crossing his legs and leaning his elbows on his knees. There’s a street lamp not too far behind him, and with the hood and the angle of the light, it casts most of his face in shadow. All you can spy is a pair of long, thorn-like ear gauges, curling out from the depths of his hood. They’re bigger around than a thimble and sharp looking from this far away.

“Nice evening, hm?” You say in greeting, hoping that if he doesn’t want to speak, he’ll just bob his head and let you move along. You haven’t run into any trouble in Arroven yet, but even with that strange ache, you don’t know that you can see your good luck lasting forever.

“A lovely one,” he mumbles and he leans back, hands grabbing at his knees and squeezing like he’s the nervous one.

That thought makes you stop, your eyes focusing a bit more intensely on what you can see of his skin. At first glance, his knuckles are bruised and paint splattered, nails split and a little too long, skin rough in texture. You blink, realizing that his knuckles aren’t bruised, his skin just mirrors the strange patterns of the variscite he’s sitting on, ink black and sea green, and the rough texture to his skin has pointy, scalloped edges.

The noise he makes isn’t a sigh, not quite, but he turns his face away, as if he expects you to ignore him, or run, and his hood edges back, just a sliver. The arch of his nose is straight as an arrow, and his nostrils are thin things, slashing upwards. His face has so many angles that it’s hard to tear your gaze away. You wish you could see his eyes, but he has them closed, like he’s still bracing himself for a blow.

“Are you.. Are you alright?” You ask, because it seems like the thing to say, with how tense he is, with how he’s waiting.

His eyes flash open, reflective in the depths of his hood. His mouth curls into a frown when he turns to look at you again. His eyes are still the eerie glam of a reflected light. “You’re not frightened?”

“Are you?” You ask, ignoring the thundering of your own heart. You’ve seen Trolls before, and even a few half-elves or half-orcs of varying descent, with skin that just barely reminds you of his, but.. You’re willing to bet he isn’t any of those.

“A bit?” He says, unsure, and the edge of a violet tongue flicks out to wet his lower lip. “It’s been a few centuries since any of you have made yourself so at home here that you stumbled across me.” He hunches his shoulders, looking away from you for the breadth of a second, before he can’t help himself. His eyes flick back to you, rove over you from head to toe, almost greedily. “You felt a call then, an itch?”

“An ache,” you correct, staring at him with wide eyes. Centuries? The long lived races don’t often mention the time they have over others. It’s rude at the best of times, and most of them are terrible sticklers for manners.

“At home here, you said?” You ask, knowing that something about him seems terribly familiar.

Your question makes him pause, brow lifting before he finally pushes himself to his feet. He unfolds, all long, heavy limbs, but doesn’t move from his spot on the variscite. “M-.. Arroven. You do think of the city as home?” He breathes in, hesitantly lifting his chin. “Not to be rude,” he says, a little awkwardly, “but you smell like Arroven.”

All at once, the old poem flickers back into your mind, the one about hearts and desires and winter. The oldest folktales of the first cities, those built around the serpent towers, all seemed to carry the poem with them. It was both a warning and a blessing to those that wished to stay. You’d have to hunt down the entirety of it, but the ending couplet?

The city promises, you’ll be most adored So can you, will you, join the hoard?

You bite down fiercely on the desire to blurt out dragon, but he must sense it, might even see the aborted twist of your lips.

“..you’ve figured it out, then?” He asks, and when his shoulders droop, you spy the barest edge of a wing, tucked in close to his back. “If being in my immediate vicinity is a problem, I quite understand, but please stay in the city. You-” He blows out a breath, large hands fussing about with his hoodie pocket. Everything about him reads awkward, almost shy. “You’re safe here, I promise.” He breathes in again, like he can’t resist, eyes falling closed when his violet tongue appears, there and gone before you can blink. “You belong,” he murmurs and tangles his fingers in the material of his hoodie, like he would reach out if he didn’t stop himself.

Inexplicably, you wonder if Mora knows about the city patron. If you should waltz into the shop tomorrow and announce: I’ve officially been welcomed to the hoard. ...Sort of. Before you lose your nerve, before you can bite your tongue, you ask. “An official welcome involves more drinks though, doesn’t it?”

-Arroven, the dragon, the founder of the city, is sitting across the table from you, slouching in a barstool that has a difficult time encompassing his enormous body. Despite his height, and the way his hood shadows his face in a frankly ominous way, no one is paying him any attention. One of the bartender’s had slid a drink list your way as soon as you’d claimed the seats, but she hadn’t even glanced at Arroven. In fact, you think her eyes might have skipped right over his seat. It’s a little disconcerting, seeing as he’d claimed that Wink was one of the best bars around, but if they ignore him, if they can’t see him?

“What’ll it be?” A different bartender asks, a tall elf, with his hair plaited back in a complicated braid. He has pleasant features, though he looks a little flustered, a lock or two of dark hair escaping his braid. You think he might be on the newer end when he fumbles a bit with the card you slide his way, olive skin flushing when his fingers nearly touch yours.

“Uh, the special,” you finally decide, expecting him to turn to Arroven so he can order as well. Your jaw drops when he whirls, not even bothering. “Ar- hey, wait!”

The elf turns back, smiling vaguely, looking even more tense now that he can’t leave straight off, but he doesn’t seem to see Arroven when you gesture towards him. His gaze zips right through the neckline of Arroven's hoodie, straight on through to the next customer.

Perturbed, you lean in close to Arroven, heart skipping a beat due to his proximity. He smells faintly of musty books, and stone, cooling in the early evening after baking in the sunshine of a warm day. "Didn’t you want something?” You force yourself to ask, unwilling to let the elf leave without at least checking with him first. He doesn’t have to get anything, but you’d hoped he would, if only so you can spend a while longer in his company. Maybe the flirtatious tone you’d struck had made him uncomfortable?

For a moment Arroven hunches further into his sweatshirt, and you think your fears might hold weight. You are a little close, and you still don’t know each other terribly well yet. You straighten, hoping you don’t look as embarrassed as you feel and Arroven heaves out a sigh. He finally tugs back his hood, though the elf behind the bar doesn’t even blink. “Just a.. a Beetle Wing," he mutters, large, sharp teeth catching the light. The elf nods, though his gaze is still on you when Arroven speaks, and turns away to go make the drinks.

Without the darkness of night, without his hood shadowing his face, you see that his eyes aren’t permanently reflective. In the dim lights of the bar, they’re a lovely shade of blue-green that matches well with his skin. What you thought were ear gauges were actually his horns, thick and curving, and trailing after the clean arch of his jaw. His ears are heavy with plugs though, and they clink against his horns when he turns, noticing that you’re staring. The scent of hot stone grows stronger when you smile at him, and then he huffs, looking away and running a hand through his already tousled, short dark hair. You catch sight of scales on his scalp and then blink. It’s not hair on his head, it’s feathers. His eyebrows are much the same, in miniature. Fine, thin feathers, as ink dark as the scalloped edges of his scales.

“So,” you tease, hoping your questions won’t come off as prying. “Can the rest of the people in here see you at all? You said that it’d been a while since anyone had felt at home enough here to stumble across you, but.. I don’t know exactly if that means Magicis is at work, or something else.”

Arroven breathes in, glancing up at the filigreed round sign hanging over the bar. There’s a single neon eye in the middle, opening and closing on loop under the word WINK. Even with the noise of people talking, and the music coming steadily from the small corner of a dance floor, you can still hear the faint buzz and click of the neon switching over. “Not many,” he finally confesses. “If the proprietor were here, she would see me, but she’s been here for a.. For a while.” She’s one of the long lived races then. Arroven turns, taking a quick look over the other patrons, tense, as if he expects one of them to approach. “The couple near the dance floor there,” he finally says, pointing out two women leaning into each other, stealing sips of each other’s drinks. “The orcish fellow on his phone. They can see me, though I doubt they’ll realize who I am. Just living here doesn’t make someone part of the hoard, though it’s always a step in the right direction.” For a second, he looks like he might let the subject drop, but then he cringes, glancing at your eyes before he looks away. “I don’t- I don’t steal from the people living here, whether they’re part of my hoard or not, even if they don’t realize I’m around. Even if they can’t see me.”

That’s reassuring, though you hadn’t planned on diving into that topic.

“What then,” you ask, leaning your chin in the palm of your hand, and your elbow on the bar, “makes someone part of your hoard?”

Arroven’s rough looking scales don’t shine, but the neon light over the both of you shifts again from blue, to pink, and back. It was already hard for you to take your eyes off of him, knowing who he is, attracted to the nervous quirk of his lips, but now? The magic that you’ve only ever felt the after effects of, the strange aches and coincidences, it feels like more in this moment. More than a soft nudge in the correct direction. Arroven is sitting at your side, winking neon sign a spotlight over both your heads.

Hesitant, like he’s waiting for you to stop him, Arroven lifts his hand, reaching out, and taps once, softly, against your sternum. “It sounds esoteric, but the only explanation I have is that all of you feels like you should be here. From the way you smell, to the echoes of your voice or your footsteps along the pavement...” Arroven swallows, and then inhales, letting his hand fall away from your chest as his eyes close. He doesn’t pull his hand back completely though, just lets his hand hover over your thigh. “It’s always the desires of the heart that bring my hoard home,” he murmurs and starts to sway towards you.

There’s a soft clink on the bar, your drinks being set carefully in front of you and Arroven. When you look, the bartender still hasn’t noticed the city patron, the dragon, but the drink is still clearly set aside for him. Your card is placed very quickly next to your glass, the elf flashing you a much more jovial smile than earlier.

“Your drink has been taken care of,” he explains, but doesn’t stay behind to point out who might have bought them. When you look, Arroven is sitting straight up in his seat, and his guilty expression is answer enough.

“I was supposed to be welcoming you to the city,” he murmurs, turning in his stool so he can take hold of his glass. The liquid inside is iridescent, shifting from what looks like violet, to a strange umber. You’re willing to bet that it’s more blue and green, but the neon light isn’t doing it too many favors. Arroven lifts his cup, patiently waiting for you to do the same and then quietly toasts your arrival. The clink of the glasses rings in your ears with the clarity of a bell, echoes lasting far longer than the noise itself.

“Goodness,” you say, coughing when you finish your swallow. Your drink is a little stronger than you thought it would be, heat already spiralling down into your chest and filling your belly. “So, uh, the city blessings seem to be true, I take it?” You don’t look at him as you speak, afraid he’ll cringe away from the mention of them.

“Blessings?” Arroven asks, and then you have to search up the poem. He sounds like he doesn't know, but they're supposed to be as old as the cities. Or near as.

“Sometimes they vary, from city to city. But most of the time they have almost the same structure. The same meaning,” you explain, pulling up the poem on your phone. “Hoarding hearts, keeping people safe in winter. The, uh-” You turn it his way, but he doesn’t take the phone from you, just reads the words out of the palm of your hand, brows raised by the time he gets to the end.

“‘Sinking talons into your thighs?’” Arroven’s slit pupils grow wide, nearly drowning his iris in darkness. He straightens, taking another hasty gulp of his drink. He laughs when he’s finished, nerves finally beginning to ease. “That’s how they’re translating it these days?” He asks, but you notice his eyes lingering on your hands, drifting down to your knees and the way you’re sitting.

You pass a good portion of the evening, teetering back and forth with conversation about the city now, and how it was when Arroven had first settled. For all that he’s wearing modern clothes and walking on two feet, you can see him in a larger, more draconic figure, delving into the variscite mines and overseeing the people that had decided to settle under his watch.

He’s just as enthralled with your stories though, hanging onto your every word, even though he’s still clearly a little anxious. He abandons his hunched and wary demeanor as soon as you start talking about the magic though. All the little aches and nudges and postcards that had led a clear path to his city. To him.

You insist on buying the next round when he makes to wave down the bartender, who is still completely oblivious to his presence, but Arroven stops you with a hand on your wrist.

"Another time," he says, just loud enough for you to hear. "A welcome isn't a single round, is it?" He asks, a tentative smile revealing a small glimpse of those sharp teeth.

You could argue. You have the feeling that he would let it go if you pushed, but the smile sways you. It's the first time he's spoken without lowering his eyes mid sentence. You accept the drink, and try not to stare when his smile grows, shy and small and all the more endearing for it.

You both pretend not to notice each other grinning after that.

It’s just past 1 AM by the time the both of you leave the bar, only slightly unsteady after a few drinks and a few plates of bar food. Warmth floods you when Arroven’s hand finds your elbow, just barely keeping you from stumbling off the edge of the sidewalk and into the street. All it takes is a single stroke of his thumb over your arm for you to throw aside any worries you might have about flirting.

He's reciprocated, in quiet ways, for the last hour or so. He’s leaned into you whenever you lowered your voice, had let his eyes linger on your hands and thighs after you brought up the poem.. The worst thing he can do is say no.

“Come to my place?” You blurt and Arroven stutters, hand spasming in his grip on your arm. For a heart wrenching moment, you think he might turn you down, but he finally bobs his head, gauges clicking against his horns with the motion. “...You said you’d been out of the loop with the people living here,” you start, mouth dry, wondering if he knows what you’re trying to ask, but still a little too sober to spell it out. “I’m asking, I’m not just asking you to come visit. I-”

Arroven stops your worried speech with a slightly awkward smile. “I know what you’re getting at,” he finally says with a gentle huff of a laugh, hand sliding down your arm until he can twine his fingers about yours. His breath hitches, and for a moment you think he might stop, might pull away. “I- I would love to,” he says quietly, and squeezes until his fingernails gently prick the back of your hand.

Wordless with triumph, you flash another smile his way, heart pounding as you keep hold of his hand, ventral scales dry, but slick against your palm.

“The walk back to my place is a bit of a long one from here,” you confess, glancing at the handful of cabs loitering along the street. “Seeing as you got the drinks, I can—” You nearly trip over your own feet when Arroven tugs you back, keeping you from approaching any of the cabs.

“I don’t.. Fit very well,” he says, apologetically. “If you would rather take one, I can, but if you aren’t opposed..” Arroven’s wings, still tucked in flat along his back, quirk and stretch, spreading wide enough that he nearly clips another leaving bar patron in the face. They don’t move, don’t see him, but they blink, as if a gust of wind just hit them, and shield their eyes until they’re well past you and Arroven.

His statement leaves you staring, jaw beginning to grow slack. “Are you saying you can fly us back to my place?” Your eyes trace his wings again, the fragile veins spider webbing across the membranes. It’s not that you thought they were ornamental, but it’s one thing to see them, and another to know you’ll get to witness their use first hand.

Arroven’s shoulders start to hunch, but his eyes flick down to your hand, fingers still curled around his. He smiles instead. “Yes?”

You glance at the cabs, and then back to Arroven’s tall figure and broad shoulders. As much as you’d like being pressed up against him, trapped in the backseat of an uncomfortable cab isn’t quite what you’d pictured, and he’s already nervous enough. That settles things. You nod, just the once and lift your chin to meet his eyes. “Flying it is then! We can’t have you getting stuck in one of those, can we?”

While Arroven walks you through how he’s going to pick you up, how he’s going to hold onto you, some of the people on the sidewalk start to watch you. You’re nodding readily at what they assume to be empty air. You spare a second to wonder if they’ll see you vanish, or if they’ll be able to see the equivalent of a magical wind carrying you away. That would cause quite a stir, wouldn't it? You forget to ask Arroven about it though when he holds out his arm, waiting patiently for you to step closer, fingers gentle in their continued grip on your hand.

He’s still giving you the chance to turn away.

You take a breath, thinking back to the nerves you’d felt, packing up a bag and deciding to visit somewhere based on coincidences and the hearsay of magic. You think of Mora, and the apartment that feels more like home to you than nearly anything else ever has. The way everything fits here, every piece of the city you've set foot in branded on your brain, clearer than any map. You step close, eagerly letting Arroven curl his arm around your back and then lift you up in a bridal carry. His forearms and biceps tense, bracing you as he prepares, and then the snap of his wings flaring open makes your heart jump before he leaps. His wings catch a sudden breeze swooping into the street, allowing it to lift the both of you well clear of the ground before he starts to flap. The slight dip in elevation as he finds his rhythm makes you clutch a little tighter, but Arroven doesn’t complain. In fact, when you glance at him, he seems to be holding back a smug little smile.

It’s cold when he finally crests over the top of the nearest buildings. Between the chill, and the fast growing height between you and the ground, you have no issues absolutely clinging to Arroven’s neck. You don't feel like you're going to fall, but it's still safer than sitting meekly in his arms, isn't it? You try to twist your head about to see everything below you, but another rush of cold wind makes you squint. It takes a moment before you realize Arroven isn't moving though, he's simply keeping the both of you suspended in midair.

“Your address?” Arroven asks as soon as you start to frown, his voice rumbling against your ear.

“Ah.” You give it to him, laughing when you meet his still-shy gaze. “I suppose that’s a little important.”

While the walk would have left you both a little tired, the flight is a fairly short one. You have just enough time to relish all the places you’re pressed in close, to enjoy what little warmth you’ve managed to keep with the wind seeping through your clothes, when Arroven lands in front of your quiet building. There are no witnesses but the dim streetlights, the sound of his flapping wings muffled by the mist beginning to roll through the city. Arroven lowers you almost reluctantly, fingers slow to uncurl so you can step down onto the pavement. He takes a step back as soon as you do, like he needs the space between you to think.

“Still up for coming inside?” You ask, giving him the same chance he’d given you earlier. You jerk a thumb at the locked door, searching for your keys with your other hand.

Arroven’s head jerks forward almost too fast, the dark feathers on his skull prickling upwards. His wings snap closed, tight against his back again as soon as you unlock your door. It’s only mildly nerve wracking, having him follow you up to your place, and you think it might be because of how nervous he’s acting. He flinches away from the wall when he barely brushes it, almost tripping over his own boots as he goes up the stairs. He’s been shy from the get-go, but this-

“Arroven,” you murmur, turning to look up at him, hand pausing on your door handle. “Is something wrong?”

He breathes out, turning his head so the plugs in his earlobes clack against his horns, blue-green eyes roving over the hall. “No,” he says slowly, forcing himself to stop hunching into his hoodie, to take his wringing hangs out of the front pocket. “I’ve just, it’s just that I keep-” He stays where he is, brow furrowing for all of five seconds before he’s huffing and stepping into your space. When Arroven leans down, his pupils are needle thin, that sunshine warm smell suffusing the air. He was summoning up courage, you realize, just in time to let your eyes fall closed as he cradles your jaw with both hands. They dwarf your human face, his fingertips easily reaching all the way to the back of your neck, but his touch may well be the softest thing you’ve ever known. His kiss is more the brush of his mouth over the shape of yours, a slip of a taste when his tongue follows the curve of your lower lip. He hums, softly, but when you kiss him back? When your tongue touches his and you try to stand on your tip-toes to deepen things, when you stumble a step closer—Arroven’s groan is gratifying. Achingly slowly, he draws his hands down the side of your neck, leaving you free to control the pace of the kiss. His thumbs trace your collarbone, slow, deep circles that make you wish you weren’t standing out here, fully clothed and too warm.

You pull away, licking your lips and glancing down the hall. There’s no one there, despite your pulse loud in your ears and your breath heaving, surely loud enough to wake even those in the very depths of sleep. Arroven’s breath hitches, and for a moment he sways, ready to chase you for another kiss. “Wait, wait,” you say softly, trying not to smile too wide when his eyes flicker open, dark pupils growing larger. He starts to straighten, embarrassment lifting his shoulders. “Maybe we should get in my house first?” You rush to say, not wanting to potentially scar one of your neighbors, but not wanting him to rush away either.

His mouth opens on reflex, and then closes, slipping into a gentle smile. “Yes,” he says, and then you have to swallow, watching his eyes slide down to your hands and then further down to your knees.

You get your door open before he touches you again, but you’re only a few steps inside when Arroven reaches for you. He strokes the back of his knuckles down your forearm, fingertips only barely grazing your hips. “I’ve missed this,” he whispers, one of his fingers catching two of yours. “Touching,” he explains, the edge of his thumbnail stroking over your wrist and the base of your thumb and back. “Being close to, well…” He breathes in when you step into him, and grows as still as a statue when you balance against him, reaching around his middle to swing the front door shut. This close, Arroven still smells of sunshine, but there’s a sweeter, crisper undertone that makes you want to close your eyes to savor it, to breathe it in. He’s nearly vibrating with you pressed close though, hands hovering somewhere over the middle of your back, trying to keep himself still. He’s waiting for you to give him the go ahead, still caught up in his nerves... Or maybe just manners?

You grin, gently pushing yourself back a step before you smooth out your expression. “Part of your hoard?” You wonder aloud, but then you can’t keep yourself straight faced any longer, wanting him to recognize the words for the gentle teasing they are. You smile. “How about you touch me then?”

Arroven huffs, pleased, and then you quickly discover how needy he can be. He kisses you all the way down the hall, his wings nearly catching on picture frames, hands trembling in their stroking over your back. He keeps pausing at the top of your hips, like he wants to let his hands drift lower, but focuses on his mouth instead, mouth and teeth moving from your lips, to your jaw and down to your neck. You don’t think he’s willing to risk going further though, knowing that it would likely end up with both of you unbalanced and on the floor instead of the bed.

“Distracted?” You ask, reaching blindly around your doorframe, searching for the lightswitch as Arroven’s tongue flickers over the pulse on the left side of your neck. Your own breathing stutters for a moment, heat building in your veins. “You keep-”

Arroven’s breath puffs over the damp patch he’s left on your skin as he lifts his head, violet tongue sliding along the sharp points of his teeth. “Hardly,” Arroven interrupts, and his wings tense when you hook your fingers into the neck of his hoodie, drawing him further into the room. Your fingers find the lightswitch, the soft ring of the bulb lighting strangely loud in the room. “You’re all I can see. All I can focus on. ..am I missing something? Cues?” He asks, voice gone lower when you give his hoodie a fierce tug. He follows, all too willingly, fingers flexing around your hips.

“Hardly,” you say back, teasing as you back up towards the bed. You pull when you lean back, expecting him to let you fall, to fall with you, but his wings flare again. He catches himself on the blankets, hands to either side of your body, the blue-green of his eyes swallowed by his pupils as he takes the sight of you in. “Still good?” You ask after a moment, because he’s staring, because he hasn’t moved a muscle.

“Tell me,” Arroven blurts, arms tensing as his fingers twist into the blankets. “Tell me what to do,” he pleads, gaze catching on every sliver of bared skin he can find. “I’m.. finding it a little difficult to think. All I want to do is make you happy, make you want to-” He stops, feathered brows drawing together as he considers his words.

You arch an eyebrow, your hands stilling just shy of his chest. The way he’d hesitated, his flighty touches? they all make a bit more sense now. He’d asked you to stay in the city, had mentioned your belonging here. If you wanted to leave, if you insisted on stopping, Arroven wouldn’t keep you. But he wants you to stay here.

“Little to no thinking,” you muse, unable to keep from smiling as he hangs onto your every word. “Undress me,” you finally decide, and his nostrils flare before he sets to work. He’s terribly careful, every brush of his scaled knuckles whisper-soft and cool against your skin, but his breathing is ragged by the time he’s finished and your heart has sped in response. You’re tempted to make him undress himself too. In fact, he would probably do just as you asked, but you’re too impatient to get your hands back on him. “Hoodie off,” you declare, half amazed that he’s obeying your whims, “and lay down on the bed.”

Arroven listens immediately, tucking his wings in close before he’s pulling off the hoodie, careful around the curl of his horns and the arch of his wings. He isn’t wearing a shirt, but with his wings, you understand why. Most of those with wings don’t favor mass produced clothes or modern fashion. He’s on the bed before you can finish pushing yourself back up, jeans low on his hips, pale belly and chest all the brighter compared to the black and teal pattern of his scales. His legs spread reflexively when you stand, jeans growing taut when you reach for him. Your hands are steady, even if your pulse isn’t, but Arroven doesn’t seem to care. He looks blissed out from this much touch alone, jaw gone slack, eyelids heavy as you unbutton and unzip his jeans. He exhales when you pull at his jeans, eyes zeroed in on your face.

He’s thicker than he is long, and as pale as his abdomen, save for a violet tinge that makes you think of his tongue. Nestled as he is in the ‘v’ of his unzipped jeans, it’s all you can do to keep yourself from stroking him straight away, or even leaning down to-

“Maybe I can think,” Arroven says hoarsely. He lifts one of his hands, gentleman-like, offering it to you palm up. “Let me?” He asks, though you’re not entirely sure what he wants you to let him do.

Mannerly, you can’t help but think, lips twitching as you place your hand in his. The older races are, generally. It’s something to fall back on if they’re nervous or unsure. Not that most of them would ever admit to it.

“Are you thinking I should leave your boots on?” You get one knee on the bed before you pause, glancing back at his legs still hanging over the edge.

Arroven hums, but his grip on your fingers tightens for a second, not wanting to let go. “I’ll worry about those later,” he says, and then inhales sharply when you straddle his lap, cock pulsing as you settle against him. If he wants to let his jeans tangle around his boots, you’re not going to complain. It’s a bit of a thrill, knowing that he’s too impatient to fuss with them.

“Boots on, then. Now, what am I supposed to let you do?” You lean forward, drawing an aimless, spiraling pattern from his abdomen up to his ribcage. He’s much warmer now, with you astride his thighs and his wings trapped beneath him on the bed. It looks uncomfortable, but he hasn’t mentioned them once.

Hesitant, Arroven’s hold on you loosens, and then his hand drops to your thigh, eyebrows furrowing when he finally speaks. “Sit on my face?”

The brevity of it, the tone of uncertainty, makes your mouth twitch. “Jumping right in there, aren’t we? And here I thought you were kind of shy.”

“I am!” Arroven blurts and then covers his face with one hand, laughing quietly at himself. “I am,” he says, a bit more composed when he lets his hand fall away. “Though shyness has hardly ever been a factor in my favor. What is it humans say? Better to rip off the bandage?”

You crawl halfway up his body, smiling wider when he forgets to breathe. “Had to get the anxiety out of the way?” You brush a kiss over his chin, eyes catching on the curl of his horns. He’s moved so carefully that you’ve yet to feel the sharp points of them catching your skin, but if you sit on his face… You ignore Arroven’s disappointed sigh as you turn away to stroke the pad of your thumb over his right horn, wondering whether he has any feeling in them. They’re as ink dark as some of his scales and twisted in a lovely spiral that perfectly circles his pointed, gauged ears. Arroven isn’t reacting like he has sensation in them, though he reacts to every other little touch of you against his scales. “You’re going to have to help me balance,” you confess, sitting back against his middle. “Because even though they aren’t terribly sharp, I rather think I’ll be risking my thighs. Don’t you?”

Arroven stares, blinking, and then he looks horrified, which makes you wonder how long it’s been since he’s been close to a human, if ever.

“I’m not against this,” you add, grinning, “just to be clear.”

For a moment, all he says in response is a strangled sounding “Ah,” before he blinks again, glancing up at the ceiling. “I can... I will help. I’ll be careful. More than careful.”

It takes a few moments, and some adjustment, before you’re finally able to settle over his face. Your heart starts to pound a little faster when Arroven opens his mouth, those dagger-like teeth flashing in the dim light. His hands are strong though, curling around your thigh and bracing your hip. He’s too tall for you to do more than help balance against his chest, though you can see that he’s still wonderfully hard, and his cock is starting to leak. You’d love nothing more than to take him in hand, to taste him, but then Arroven nips your inner thigh, and you stop paying attention to his cock and start focusing on sensation. Your fingers curl at the first hot swipe of his tongue, pressing a little hard into the ventral scales over his chest, and the next slow lick has your eyes falling closed.

It’s not easy to stay steady, to keep your arms and legs from quivering the longer he licks and slurps. Arroven sucks small kisses over your thighs and the left cheek of your ass, his teeth only ever the barest pressure on your skin. His horns graze you, but he’s true to his word in keeping you balanced. The texture of them against your skin is just something more to feel, to enjoy as he tilts his head this way and that. Pleasure builds, faster by far than the magic that built in your veins, that left you aching with the need to come to the city. If that ache had been anything close to what you’re feeling now, warm, and slick, with the heady pressure of Arroven’s fingers on your skin, you would have picked up on the breadcrumb trail a lot sooner.

“You’re go- going to push me over the edge,” you warn with a gasp, legs starting to tremble. He moves you in response, starts to rock your hips so all he has to do is stick out his tongue, but your hands are shaking now too, cluing him into your urgency. Arroven shakes his head from side to side, a little wild, the plugs in his earlobes clattering against his horns with every shift. You bite down on your lower lip, orgasm rolling swiftly over you and nearly choke on the curse that wants to leave your mouth. He keeps you there, aching and weak, until you pat awkwardly at his chest, releasing you reluctantly with one last obscene noise of satisfaction.

You sit next to him, still a little unsteady and grin down at his pleased, messy face. “Now, unless you have any other lovely thoughts to share - your turn?”

His rough sounding “Please,” has your libido jumping back into overdrive, but it’s safety that has you slipping off the bed to dig out a bottle of lube from your things. He’s half pushed himself back up when you come back to the bed, resting on his elbows, fingers twisted gently into the blankets. His wings are partially stretched out now too, one of them reaching all the way to the end of your bed.

“Are your wings alright?” You ask, wondering if you should throw away the idea of climbing back into his lap, lube already pooling in the palm of your hand.

Arroven smiles again though, waving away your worry. “Tense,” he offers, as explanation. “I was more focused on you, but they’re good. I promise.” His cock bobs as you approach, and then he lays back down, irises vanishing into the ether of his pupils.

“If you promise, I suppose I’ll let it go.” You close the lube, only a bit ungracefully, and toss it to the side, climbing back onto the bed and straddling his thighs.

Your first wet squeeze of his cock has him whimpering, your hand barely fitting around him at his thinnest point. When you stroke, he bucks nearly unseating you until he claps his hands onto your thighs, muttering a hasty apology. Despite being tempted to laugh, you narrow your eyes, squeezing him just a little harder. “You don’t have to be still, but move a little slower for now, hm?”

“Of course,” he rushes to say, and then his jaw goes slack when you press him against you. “Oh,” he breathes, nails pricking your skin as you hold him in place. You rub yourself against his cock, up and back down, a slow undulation that makes you tense, still sensitive from your earlier orgasm.

And then you straighten, pressing the head of his cock into you. The first slow stretch of him inside you echoes the steady ache of magic, has your breath rushing from your lungs in a gasp. “Fuck,” you breathe and then glance at Arroven’s face. His head is tilted back, mouth open to reveal all of those sharp teeth, and his eyes are closed tight. You think he might be keeping himself from looking at you, might be trying to stem the urge to buck again, to move at all. You tilt your hips and press yourself down though, wiggling, and then Arroven is cursing. You don’t recognize the language, but you understand the sentiment behind it, the pleading tone that softens the edges of the words. It’s hard to concentrate, to keep yourself from getting distracted when all you want to do is sink down every inch of him and then just lay on his chest, trying to catch your breath. “Too much?” You manage to ask, but all Arroven does is shake his head and then carefully ease his grip on your thighs, stroking down to your knees and back up. Your legs, among other things, are definitely going to ache after this.

You ride Arroven until he’s a shaking, breathless mess, until he can’t help but tense his thighs every time he bottoms out, and you can barely stay up. You reach up, fingers just barely brushing his chin to make him pay attention. “Fuck me,” you command and his wings stretch to either side with force. You nearly scream when he starts fucking into you with purpose, and as lovely as your neighbors have been, you have the feeling they’re going to complain at some point. Every thrust has you tightening up on reflex, still shaky from your earlier orgasm, and it’s all you can do to keep yourself upright. A few moments later and Arroven arches as he comes inside you, clutching tightly to you until he’s finished, breath deep and rasping. You don’t wait. Carefully you flop down next to him, smiling tiredly against the blankets. You’re not sure your legs will carry you for the next hour or so, but it’s hardly something to complain about.

“Do you give all newcomers to the hoard such a.. Vigorous welcome?” You ask, laughing, your voice rough, not really expecting him to answer. Even though he’s clearly a little more comfortable, even though he’s been clinging to your skin and he looks wrecked by all the activity. Arroven nearly chokes.

“No,” he says immediately. “Moments like this,” he murmurs, reaching out for you, ventral scales on his palm smooth over the apple of your cheek, “moments like this are few and far between.” There’s a low rumble of noise from him when you roll close to brush another kiss over his lips, eyes fluttering closed. It’s all you can do not to laugh again, not to quote the poem at him or interrupt the soft moment. It still sits in the back of your mind though, sweet and lilting.

the city is hoarding hearts

it draws them in, with coin, with art

reflects their dreams on mirrored glass

sings siren songs to catch them fast

the lights?

they gleam, they glitter, bright

it steals a piece, with every sight

roots get worn

they split, they splinter

'but i'll keep you warm, in the depth of winter'

the city whispers, it cajoles, it cries

it'll sink it's talons into your thighs

it tears, it scrapes, it batters the unwary

but oh, the love it gifts, to those who tarry

the city promises, you'll be most adored

so can you, will you, join the hoard?

#exophilia #dragon boyfriend #dragon x reader #monster fucker #monster lover #d.darling writes

358 notes · View notes

pappydaddy · 4 years

Text

Deal? (j.m.)

A/N: I recently added Outer Banks to the list of shows I write for because I am actually in love with the show. So, if you want to request for Outer Banks, send me a request but please look at the rules before doing so!

Anyway, I am also writing a OB imagine because I want to see if people are actually seeing my posts or not. In the past, my little Outer Banks posts about JJ have gotten lots of interaction. Therefore, I am writing a JJ fic.

Paring: JJ Maybank x Fem!reader

Show: Outer Banks

Warnings: Jealously, protectiveness, some creepy dude, some punches but nothing horrible. Some blood.

This takes place in an alternate universe where John B Sarah don’t capsize or even get on the boat in general. Just for the sake of this imagine.

masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation

- not my gif -

Boneyard parties were fun, there was no doubt about that fact, but sometimes an extravagant Kook party thrown by some rich snob wanting to rebel against their perfect little shoe box life was just as fun. The Pogues especially liked them since their presence at the party always ticked the Kooks off, but they couldn’t do anything about it unless they wanted the cops to bust their party full of minors drinking and doing drugs. Since the Pogues befriending Sarah Cameron, they had an excuse to make more appearances at Kook parties. Of course, JJ couldn’t pass up an opportunity to rile up some Kooks. Especially not when he’s dating the most attractive girl on the island: Y/n L/n. Rich enough to live comfortably, but not rich enough to be in Figure Eight.

“Come on, Jay! It’s a pool party,” Y/n whined to her boyfriend, her hands gripping his large bicep as she shook his arm lightly. “Put the swim trunks I gave you on!” She pleaded with him. Her blonde and stubborn boyfriend simply sat on the edge of her bed, looking down at his phone as she shook his arm more violently. Many people were surprised when JJ had entered the serious, long-term relationship with the youngest (and only daughter) of the L/n family for many reasons. The main one being that he settled down in the first place. JJ Maybank didn’t seem like the type for commitment, but with their second year anniversary fast approaching - they were left with their heads spinning. The other reason was the fact that Y/n had two older and very protective brothers. Everybody was almost positive that JJ wouldn’t even get past her brothers, either they would have crushed him to a pulp or he would have thought it to be too much work for a girl.

“But I don’t want to get in an overcrowded pool with a bunch of Kooks.” JJ grunted, trying to type a text to John B to see if the group was almost to Y/n’s house to pick them up. Though JJ was the designated driver for the party (he drew the short straw), he still needed the van in order to cart all The Pogues home at the end of the night. Y/n groaned, plunking herself down on the bed beside him, her hands still gripping his arm.

“You don’t have to get in the pool! I don’t want to get in the pool either, but I am still wearing a bathing suit!” JJ looked up from his phone and gave his pouting girlfriend a look. That was the thing about their relationship, it even surprised JJ. It downright scared him when he started to have feelings for Y/n. At first, he didn’t know what had happen to make him want a relationship, but then he realized that there was just something about her. Something that made him want to spend every waking second with her, want to protect her.

“Why does it matter if I wear the swim trunks you bought me or not?” He asked, locking his phone and setting it on the bed beside him. She shrugged, one hand sliding down to pick play with his fingers, her eyes locked on them. They had been friends for a good year before they started dating, their feelings having come to light when the great treasure hunt ensued. That meant they could read each other decently well. Having gone through that together while their relationship was blooming into a romantic one made them more perceptive to each other. As he sat there, watching her play with his fingers, he could tell that she was bashful about the reason.

“Because I think you’d look really hot in them.” She mumbled, her cheeks heating up. She tucked her chin closer to her chest, wanting to make sure JJ didn’t see her red cheeks, but even without seeing her face, he knew she had the adorable redness flooding her cheeks and nose. He didn’t even try to fight the smile as he watched her try to avoid his gaze while playing it cool.

“Alright, if that’s what you really want, I’ll wear the trunks.” He agreed. He knew that he would have ended up putting them on before they left, not matter how much he ‘fought’ against it. She snapped her head up to look at him, her eyes wide and happy.

“Yay,” She celebrated with a little bounce. “Now, can I bother you for one teeny tiny favour?” She asked sweetly, taking her hand from his to pinch her pointer finger and thumb together so that they were just barely touching. JJ hummed, reaching his hand up to grab her hand back, entangling their fingers together.

“Any thing for you, Pretty Girl.” He nodded, rubbing his thumb across her soft skin gently. The action felt nice on her hand but also sent tingles shooting up her arm, giving her a fuzzy feeling.

“I need advice on my bathing suit, I put it on earlier, but now I don’t know about it,” She paused, standing up, trying to free her hand reluctantly. JJ’s hand held firm, not wanting to let her hand go until it was completely necessary. Giving up, she settled with standing between his legs as he stayed sitting. “Is it too much?” She asked nervously, popping the buttons on her high-waisted jean shorts before letting them slide down her legs. Next came the shirt, leaving her in her rather racy bathing suit.

“Too much of what?” JJ asked, confused since there wasn’t too much of anything. It was a bathing suit. A normal bathing suit like all of her others.

“Too skimpy,” She clarified, turning her head to glance at the full body mirror by the foot of her bed. “This is by far the most scandalous bathing suit I own, but Kie and Sarah convinced me to buy it last week and I don’t want to not wear it, ya know?” She rambled, inspecting it. The stringy bikini was gorgeous and totally for relaxing poolside, not for swimming. The colour of it complemented her skin, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was showing too much.

“Why would you even think that? You look gorgeous in it,” JJ’s eyebrows knitted together. “I don’t get where you think it’s too ‘skimpy’? I mean, it covers everything,” He questioned, his eyes scanning over his girlfriend. She looked absolutely stunning. He grabbed her other hand as it picked at the strings tying her top up. She looked down at him, her eyes meeting his captivating blue eyes. “You look amazing in it. Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“No, I actually really like it. I feel amazing in it,” She answered quickly. “But I don’t want guys staring at me and coming up to me all night. I just want to go and have fun with you and the others, not fend guys off with a stick.” She grunted, bending her knees to sit on one of JJ’s legs, her knees poking into the other one. He let go of her hands, wrapping his arms around her waist to make sure she didn’t fall off.

“I get that, but you don’t have anything to worry about. I’ll be right by your side the entire night,” He reassured. “And if I’m not right by you, I won’t be anymore than ten feet away. If some asshole comes up to you, I’ll take care of him. Anything as long as you get to wear what you want to the party, deal?” His eyebrows bounced as he calmed her down.

“Deal, but I get to wear your shirt.” She bargained, her hands gripping his open button up. It was a nice black one, though it was ratty, it was still her favourite button up of his. He glanced down at it. She was always taking it, leaving him to snatch it back by stuffing it in his overnight bag when he left. He had just gotten it back two weeks ago when he had to wash it. He knew that her attempts of stealing it were coming, but he would have thought she’d be a little bit more subtle about it.

“Whatever you want, Princess.” He pressed a kiss to her lips before sliding her off his lap to stand up, grabbing the swim trunks from the bed.

_____________________________________________________________________

The party certainly was in full swing. Coke was on the tables, people handing off wads of cash towards the smug guy who brought it. John B and Sarah were already sloshed and they had only been there for an hour and a half. Kie had only one beer, but was currently sharing a blunt with John B and Sarah while Pope nursed his second beer. Y/n and JJ were standing off to the side, Y/n’s back pressed against the living room wall, JJ’s hand pressed into the wall by her head. He sipped at his water bottle while she finally had her first beer of the night. She didn’t like getting intoxicated, especially not when JJ was sober. She wanted to talk to her boyfriend, not make a complete fool out of herself.

“Can you believe that Pope is actually drinking more than one beer tonight? I think I even saw him try a hit of the blunt.” Y/n asked JJ, proud of her uptight friend for finally letting loose. Dating Kie has been such a good thing for him, he’s gotten so much more relaxed. JJ glanced over his shoulder, still hovering over his girlfriend.

“’Atta boy, Pope,” He hollered over the thumping music, tossing his empty water bottle to the floor and rising his now free fist in the air to fist pump. Pope sending him a ‘Whoop’ and a fist pump back from where he sat on the fancy leather couch. “Princess, I need to go get another water bottle. You want to come with me or sit with the others?” He asked, holding her hand gently while his other one slid off the wall.

“You go, I’ll sit with the inebriated and keep them company.” She smiled up at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. The two of them glanced over at their friend group as they laughed loudly about something. Their intoxicated minds finding the smallest things funny.

“If you’re sure,” JJ looked back at Y/n wanting to make sure she was completely okay with him grabbing another drink. She nodded, a wide smile on her face at his protectiveness. “Okay, I’ll be there in like five seconds, ten tops. Love you.” He rushed, bouncing out of her sight in an effort to rush back to her. She laughed, shaking her head before taking a sip of her beer. Making her way towards the group falling all over each other with laughter, she suddenly felt the weight of eyes burning into her back.

Glancing behind her, she didn’t see anyone staring at her. Shrugging it off, she continued her short walk, sitting down next to John B who didn’t even notice her presence yet. “Hey, Y/n, where’s JJ?” Pope asked, noticing only one half of the duo joining them. John B looked beside him, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his best friend’s girlfriend.

“Getting another water bottle, he’ll be here in a sec.” She told him, downing the rest of her beer, not wanting to set it down anywhere. John B slung his arm around Y/n’s shoulders, using the hand holding his own solo cup to point at her.

“She sleeps with my best friend, but not only does she do that, but she also makes him happy,” John B slurred, nearly poking Y/n in the face by accident. “Like, really happy - happier than I’ve ever seen him,” John B took his arm off Y/n creating big gestures with his hands as he talked. Dodging his flailing arms, Y/n smiled at his drunken sweetness. “I think that JJ might marry her someday, then everyone will know that they have sex!” John B carried on, making Y/n’s cheeks flare up.

“Hey, John B, Imma go get you a water, actually-” Pope paused, glancing at the group. Through he was slightly tipsy, he still knew that he needed to be more responsible for the ones who were way passed tipsy. “I’m gonna get you all a water, want one, Y/n?” He asked, knowing that she was probably in much better shape than him, but he also knew that she shouldn’t be venturing off into the crowd alone, let alone her being comfortable to do so.

“Sure! Thanks Pope!” She smiled, Pope returning the gesture before heading off the same direction JJ went off in. John B started to talk loudly to Sarah, the two in their conversation while Kie rattled off about Microplastics in the ocean, nobody really listening to her. A hand landing on her shoulder was odd, since JJ never walked up behind her at a party and touched her from behind, always wanting her to know that it was him and not some creep. That’s why her blood seemed to still in her body at the hand.

“Looks like you could use some better company.” Someone spoke, sliding into the spot next to her, his arm resting around her shoulders much like John B’s had seconds before. She glanced at him, everything about him screaming Touron, especially since he thought hitting on her would get him anywhere. Thought their relationship surprised every local, that still meant that they all knew about it.

“No, I’m really okay. These are my friends, also, by boyfriend and my other friend will be back in a couple of seconds, but if you’re looking for someone to talk to, there is a lot of Lacrosse players over there playing Beer Pong.” She pointed towards the herd of boys playing Beer Pong on the grand mahogany dinning table. The Touron glanced over there, his slicked back hair catching the light with the amount of gel he had in it. He pulled a face, shrugging and tightening his arm around her shoulders.

“I don’t know, I think you’d be better company,” He denied, obviously not taking the hint. Instead, he just stomped on the hint and punted it into the world’s farthest dumpster. “Besides, I don’t really think you have a boyfriend, you’re probably just telling me that so I leave you alone.”

“I can assure you, I am telling the whole truth when I tell you my boyfriend is going to be right back. And I do want you to leave me alone, that’s why I said ‘no’ earlier.” She remarked, her voice biting. He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he dramatically looked around.

“I certainly don’t see anyone coming ‘right back’,” He mocked, air-quoting her words. She huffed, rolling her eyes. “So I really don’t think you were telling me the truth about you boyfriend, Sweetheart-”

“Well, prepare to be proven wrong,” A new voice joined the conversation, the two of them looking to the side where there was a space at the corner of the two couches. There stood JJ, he dumped the two water bottles he held into Pope’s hands. Pope stood slightly behind JJ, looking rather nervous about what was going to happen as he dropped the bottles to the couch kie was laid out on. “Meet the boyfriend who’s now back and wanting you to leave before you leave with a limp.” He threatened the posh boy.

“So what? She wasn’t lying about the boyfriend, but can she really except not to be hit on when wearing that kind of a bikini,” He asked, speaking as if he was the victim being harassed. JJ’s knuckles cracked as he clenched them into a fist, his nostrils flaring, his eyes lighting up with anger. Even in their drunken and high daze, John B, Kie, and Sarah looked up with nervous eyes, watching the events unfolding. “And how can you be mad when you’re the one who left her alone after you let her leave the house wearing it?” He asked, Pope cringed, know what that comment ignited in JJ. Y/n watched, her mouth hanging open when he implied that she was JJ’s property.

“I see you’ve made your choice,” JJ spoke with a voice so calm that it scared the group. They had never heard his voice so calm in a situation like this. It was normally aggressive and raspy, strained from him trying to suppress his anger. It was as if he didn’t have anger issues and he was going to deal with this rationally. Just as the group was questioned what the blonde’s next moves were going to be, he lunged forward, gripping the collar of the guys polo, his fist connecting to his nose with a loud crack. “Did you really expect me not to break your nose being that much of a dick? You can’t be mad that your buddies aren’t here to protect you if they left you alone!” JJ’s normal aggressive voice returned, his fist painted with the guy’s blood as he sent blow after blow to the guy’s face.

“JJ! JJ! He’s had enough! This isn’t worth getting arrested again! JJ,” Y/n pleaded with her angry boyfriend, seeing him slamming the preppy boy against the wall, scarlet blood dropping to the dark hardwood floors of the house. “JJ,” She tried again, her voice scratchy from yelling so loud. “Pope! Help me grab his arm!” She called, a crowd forming to watch the fight. She knew John B was still too drunk to be able to help. Pope rushed towards JJ, the pair grabbing his arm when he went to power up another punch.

“Come on, man! We gotta go!” Pope called, but JJ stomped his foot into the Prep’s foot, a strangled scream leaving the Prep’s mouth as the tiny bones in his foot cracked.

“JJ! Stop!” Y/n yelled, tugging on the arm she clutched to her. JJ, having just sent a harsh kick to the shin of the opposite leg that he had just stepped on, glanced at her. Her eyes pleaded with him to stop as she tugged on his arm once again. He couldn’t help but compare her to earlier that night. Her arms were wrapped around his like they were right them, she shook it, just like she was doing right then, but her eyes were different. Earlier, they were light and big, resembling a puppy dog. Now, her eyes were wide and nervous, scared that he’d get in trouble over her - knowing that the Prep was no match for him.

“Let’s get out of here,” JJ nodded. his heart was still thumping with pure fury, but he knew he needed to walk away for her. She nodded, letting go of his arm, thinking he was completely done. “You get the others, I’ll be right there-” He didn’t even wait a second before he sent his knee into the Prep’s groin, hitting him square on. A loud ‘humph’ left the guy as he tried to double over, but JJ held him up by his polo collar. “You touch my girl, I break you. You try to press charges, I finish the job without her here to stop me, deal?” He hissed in a low voice.

“JJ! Stop and come,” Y/n ordered, realizing what her boyfriend was still fighting. JJ’s eyes hardened at the lack of response from the scared Prep, making him nod frantically. Once JJ’s hands left his collar, the boy crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain. “Let’s go, someone probably called the cops - the drug dealers took off.” She alerted JJ, Pope already trying to get the other three to follow him towards the van. Y/n grabbed JJ’s hand, pulling him through the watchful crowd.

The run to the van was all Pope, Y/n, and JJ trying to get the other three to run, basically pulling them along behind them. Once they were in the van though, that was another story. Tires squealing as JJ pulled off, speeding down the road, Y/n sitting in the passenger seat as she gripped on for dear life, and the other four being tossed around. “I’m sorry for leaving you for so long, someone decided to take an ice bath in the cooler, it took three of us to pull him out because his ass got stuck.” JJ spoke up, his voice soft. The van was quiet as eyelids became heavy in the back. Y/n looked over at him, his speed slowing once they got into Pogue territory.

“It’s okay, JJ. You protected me, though you went a little over and beyond, but none-the-less, you still protected me. Just like you promised,” Her voice was just as soft, the couple sharing a sweet moment. Cruising down the street, JJ couldn’t help but look over at her. “But, next time, please take yourself into account, Jay. It’s really not worth getting arrested again.” She pleaded.

“What are you talking about? Your safety is totally worth getting arrested for. I’d rather get arrested protecting you than you getting hurt. I would lose my mind if you got hurt.” He argued. She perked an eyebrow at him, but he didn’t see it since he turned his head to glance in front of them before looking back at her.

“And what happened back there wasn’t you losing your mind,” She asked. He shook his head, a light smile on his face as the air became lighter. “No matter that, how about we make a deal? You learn when to walk away and, to help you learn, every time you walk away from a fight - you get a little treat. How does that sound? We got a deal?” She proposed with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle. JJ chuckled, taking one hand off the wheel to attach to her thigh, squeezing it affectionately.

“We got a deal.” He agreed, his blue eyes pouring all his love and affection into hers. It was like they were the only ones in the van. JJ’s heart swelled with love so much that it throbbed painfully, feeling like it was ready to burst with all the love being confined within it. Their moment was quickly interrupted by Pope sticking his head between the seats, breaking their eye contact.

“Yeah, as cute and sickening this moment between you two is, I would still like to get to John B’s in one piece. So, eyes on the road, Maybank!” He exclaimed, pointing to the empty road. JJ huffed, setting his eyes on the dark road ahead, leaving his hand on Y/n’s thigh.

“Fine, but Y/n and I call the spare room!” JJ announced to Pope who settled in the back once again. Pope groaned, kicking himself that he hadn’t called dibs on it sooner.

“You two always get the spare! Kie and I get it next time.” Pope bargained, his tone low.

“Deal.” JJ smirked, shooting Y/n a wink, flashing his crossed fingers while still keeping them from Pope’s sight.

“I saw that, Maybank!”

#jj maybank #JJ #jj maybank x reader #jj imagines #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank protective #protective!jj maybank x reader #protective!jj #jj maybank oneshot #jj maybank preference #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank obx #obx #outer banks #outer banks imagines #john b #kiara carrera #pope hayward #sarah cameron

491 notes · View notes

m-y-fandoms · 3 years

Text

Blood on Our Stage - Vampire Nagito Komaeda x Human Female Reader -Part 1 (Slight/Platonic Female Reader x Hajime Hinata)

So, this is an old fic I updated to fit these characters because I want to continue it :)

NEEDED CONTEXT FOR THIS AU: Hajime and Nagito are step brothers, (Y/N)/Reader is a human, Hajime and Nagito are vampires, and Hajime did indeed get into the Main Course at Hope’s Peak, for acting.

The paycheck… It's all about the paycheck...

You took a deep breath, reassuring yourself for what seemed like the hundredth time that year… or that hour.

Smile, s-smile. Breathe, lean into him. It has to look real, (Y/N). God… it’s a whole new level of crackhead when you stutter to yourself in your thoughts.

Dissociate.

What are we having for dinner? How many more steps ‘til that damn egg hatches? If it’s another fucking Diglett I swear I’ll go apeshit.

You shifted to your right, the most forced of grins creeping onto your cosmetic-plastered face. You let your head fall onto Hajime’s shoulder. Convincing right? Touching is convincing. Random gentle displays of affection are convincing...

By this time, you were nearly blind from the flash of some fifty or so cameras in your face, anyway, so why not just pretend that the photographers and press were blind as well?

Why not, why not?

You pretended in every other aspect of your life.

"Isn't that right, (Y/N)?" Hajime’s voice shook you out of your trance, and you turned your head, letting go of his arm, which you had grabbed out of habit. His sparklingly white teeth - sharper than the average man's - gleamed down at you, and you felt that usual pang of fear run down your spine and chill your bones. Even attached to the gums of the sweetest boy on earth, you’d never get used to the sight.

It's all a show, (Y/N), a game. Pretend. "Fangs for the fans, and all that"

How long would that farce last until people started to realize?

What had Hajime said earlier that month? You retreated into yourself, thinking deeply, trying desperately to calm the anxiety that rose with at the sight of his flesh-tearing canines...

_______________________________________________________________

"I can bare my fangs at interviews, photoshoots… you know, when the paparazzi are around. It’s what my dad wants,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Don't worry about it, (Y/N). Honestly, you freak out over the silliest things sometimes.” He ruffled your hair. “It will look like I'm dedicated to the role, or something like that… whatever. People will love it, trust me."

___________________________________________________________

But you never could. How could you? A monster with a secret, stupidly displaying that secret openly to the world? No… trusting meant removing little stones from that carefully built wall, which sub-sequentially meant getting hurt, and not just emotionally. You recited this mantra to yourself almost routinely; something you’d picked up from someone very close to your heart. Isn’t it funny how we steal little bits of personality from those we love most?

You knew Hajime just followed whatever his father commanded, that he’d do anything to feel like he mattered, that people cared. He’d done all this: the acting lessons, depending on daddy’s money, the unless studying and promoting himself, just to get into that stupid school and kickstart his illustrious career.

"Isn't that right, (Y/N)??" Hajime tenderly brought his hand up, stroking your shoulder awkwardly. The clench in his jaw, however, wasn't friendly at all. You couldn’t really blame him, though. He was doing it for your sake, after all. You had to get through this, and he knew he had to pull you through; everything depended on it.

How could this flock of idiots not tell the “chemistry” was forced???

"Uh… o-of course! Yeah!" You smiled, a fake chuckle escaping your lips, and the crowd of reporters and internet journalists roared in front of you. Of course they did… wasn't everything the disciplined and people-pleasing boy beside you said fucking hilarious? You sighed, returning your gaze to the mass of people below you as you and your leading man sat raised on a platform behind a pretentiously high table.

Just let Hajime handle all the questions, you thought to yourself indifferently. You always did. They rarely directed them at you specifically, anyway. So much for your dream: to stun the world as an independent starlet, a crimson-hot femme fatale. It was always ‘Hinata Hajime’s doe-eyed leading lady!’, ‘Hajime’s little love interest!’, never ‘(Y/N) (L/N)... featuring Hajime Hinata!’ But... you were famous, and with no little chunk of change to boot… you should’ve been thankful… right?

So why weren’t you…?

Your eyes scanned the faces before you, and you realized that you hadn't… really looked at them until now. Yes, the usual prolific online bloggers and huge theatre junkies were there, and Mr. Hinata of course. He wouldn't miss out on one of his company’s press meetings for the world, especially with his money-making beloved son in the spotlight. He was so anal, how could anything possibly go off without a hitch unless he was there?

You wondered if the girl next to him knew he was a ravenous monster as well, but thought better of it. Of course, she didn't know. You shouldn't have even known. But you did, and it plagued you every day of your life.

Fuck... you just wanted to go back to your room and overthink in peace. It was embarrassingly uncomfortable to do so in public

Mr. Hinata sat sternly upright, with his polished, slick hair, in his polished, slick shoes and extravagantly tailored navy suit, his secretary at his side, brushing his hand unnoticeably between the chairs. His wife would never care, anyway. To their right sat a rosy-cheeked intern, spunky and full of character. Holding a clipboard between perfectly painted nails, the only thing that spoke louder than her bright smile was her neon miniskirt. She must not have known, either. No human simply knew, and still managed to look that innocent and lively. The PR girls loved press conferences, and each new show only yielded fresh publicity. This most recent show, set to premiere the following night, was a tale of romance: A vampire lord and his human lover: a medieval era period piece. Of course, for this reason, Hajime did nothing to hide his all-too-real fangs.

You loved a good historical romance, and loved being in one even more. It had always been your goal as a starting actress to take the lead in at least one period play, be it Victorian, colonial, medieval.. but... it had not turned out quite the way you planned...

A few other members of the Hinata family accompanied their revered head of the household… or was it head of the clan… coven? Whatever, it was expected. The murderous bloodsuckers always clung to their leader’s side, and could always be found lurking around Hinata’s estate, if they weren’t already crammed up his ass looking for approval.

A flash came from the reporter to the left, directly into your vision, and left you dazed.

Fuck… you seethed internally. Calm down. Calm down. The paycheck. That's it. This is almost over, anyway. Why did you always find yourself spacing out at the worst possible times? You acknowledged that it was how your body coped with the overwhelming urge to break down, but damn if it wasn’t inconvenient at the minute. Nothing screamed ‘I have something to hide’ like acting shady in front of a hundred people…

You leaned into Hajime again. Sell the relationship. Sell the love.

You exhaled in exhaustion. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Hajime… you did, just, not like this. Never like this. Lying to millions of fans and the press, pretending Hajime was anything other than a brother-like figure to you just to line his father’s pockets, tore you apart more than keeping his immortality a secret. Denying you both a chance at real love for fear of scandal… you were sure that there was no phrase you’d ever grow to hate more than “The Hinata Theatre Company!” Ironic, wasn’t it, that at one point in time, you begged to be here?

You found that scoping out a crowd lowered the anxiety you had about actually being in front of them. It's funny, many people asked how you could possibly be afraid of crowds or public speaking when you were a damn Broadway-level star. Your answer was always the same: your rush of adrenaline and passion for theatre got you through a show, but anywhere else but on that stage, and a crowd turned your mind to jelly. It was different… walking out for a performance tamed the butterflies that flew around inside your stomach.

Of course, there was always the fact that your boss could tear you apart at a moment’s notice that contributed to the anxiety, but you obviously couldn't share that little bit of information with anyone. It was all so hard to process, that this kind young man beside you could be something so fearsome, that your whole life was a public sham. You’d never forget the day you’d found out… how it changed everything. You shouldn’t have to be afraid of your best friend, you just shouldn’t. But how could you ever truly trust him again?

Your eyes bounced once, twice around the room.

...No

You gasped, breath catching in your throat as your eyes caught on something that caused you to jump slightly in your seat.

"You ok?" Hajime whispered, the crowd going noticeably silent for a moment. Mr. Hinata glared in your direction. A silent warning, reminding you that even one wrong move made his company look bad, and that would not end so well for you. That was the shining aspect of Hajime’s personality, that he was nothing like his father.

"Yeah, y-yeah," you spoke airily, cheeks heating. "I just slipped to the edge of my seat a little, almost fell!" You lied timidly, a small laugh.

They'll eat that shit up. Soft-spoken, innocent, clumsy girls are all the rage! Of course, Hajime picked up on the lie immediately, catching the change in tone, the skipping of your heartbeat. Being an immortal freak had its perks.

The bright-eyed boy beside you patted your arm, the crowd chuckling politely before returning to their bombardment of questions.

Your eyes flew back to the corner of the room, back to the object that had you startled in the first place. You tried to tell yourself you’d imagined it, but there was no mistake,

It was him...

Standing there in the entranceway, so dimly lit, he hid in the alcove. There was no mistaking his favorite jacket, the fabric ripped and weathered from use. There was no mistaking the intricate, almost root-like pale green veins which spiraled up his arms, told a story across his milky collarbone, tumbled down his wrists, and made him all the more intimidating. Intoxicating. There was no mistaking that full head of tousled hair, brightly standing out even in the meager lighting in that disregarded corner of the room, messy whisps branching out dangerously; an air of nonchalance and bored irreverence. Smug bastard…

And there was absolutely no mistaking the way those bright eyes illuminated his white skin in contrast, a frightening and ethereal glow shooting off of him in waves. Hajime’s chestnut-brown eyes never mimicked that terrifying iridescence, but then again, Hajime never took his life-sustaining drink from a human host. Your hands began to subconsciously shake. From fear or the itching desire to… you didn’t know, throw your arms around him, touch his cheek just once... ? You never knew with him. He was a wild thing, a beast untamable. But why the hell was he here?

Carelessly he leaned against the door frame. His tongue shot out predatorily, running along his lower lip in one fluid motion. His knuckles raised, brushing against the green of his coat and coming up to scratch the side of his face.

❘ What are you doing here?! ❘ You sent your thoughts out in waves so loud you might as well have been screaming. You knew immediately that he had taken them in, absorbing your mental cursing and inner toil like sun rays. It was a power and privilege only those of his kind who were purebred enjoyed.

He did not answer, but merely tilted his head, the corner of his lip rising in that maddening grin he always threw at you. An impish smirk hiding mischief and chaotic intentions, you were sure.

You knew it would be mere moments ‘til your flawless "boyfriend" beside you noticed his presence as well, and you feared what might become of this night that was supposed to be of celebration. Almost as if on cue, Hajime’s words halted to a stop. That evil smirk only widened, a small snort shaking the intruder’s chest.

"Nagito..." Hajime murmured through clenched teeth, his hand shooting down to grab your wrist. "He's here."

"I know..." your words shook, just loud enough for any non-human in the room to hear. Now it was time for you to be Hajime’s rock. Nagito's head bobbed, looking down at his old ripped jeans, and you saw Mr. Hinata's eye twitch before you, his vampiric hearing triggered immediately upon hearing your quiet exchange with Hajime.

Mr. Hinata followed your eyes to the back of the room, his fiery glare landing on the face of his eldest and only step-son in the shadows.

Was it too late to run back into the dressing room and never come out?

You could feel the tension in the air, a line of electricity connecting the three vampires like mental twine, ready to break at any moment. It was like watching three animals square off, sizing up their threat on a National Geographic documentary. The other Hinata coven members, all also fierce bloodsuckers in their own right, merely sat forward politely, sensing Nagito's aura but knowing better than to give him the time of day. After all, alerting the press to his presence would certainly not be a wise way to stay on Mr. Hinata’s good side.

No one outside of the family even knew about the existence of the elder brother. He was an embarrassment, a stain on Mr. Hinata’s designer tie. In the packed room, he looked so out of place, with dark, torn clothes in a sea of try-hard collared shirts and dresses. Sure, everyone who was anyone in the media world had turned up for this interview, and would also return for the opening night the next day, but everyone who was anyone never included Nagito. He made sure of that. He just had to stick out, be different, didn’t he? Even among a bunch of immortal freaks, boy… was he a freak.

Oh no, mommy remarried some rich man then got herself killed, better act like a little ungrateful little prick. Woe is me, I have super good luck that is sometimes super bad! No one understands me!!!

He sickened you, the way he did his best to destroy what he and Hajime’s family had built, all in the name of his backwards and twisted idea of “hope.” As if he didn't live like a prince because of the Hinatas’ hard work. Don’t get it twisted, you hated Mr. Hinata and would love to see the Hinata empire burn, but this company, the desire to be recognized and worth something, was all that held dear Hajime up. It was his only dream, and he deserved it. Nagito didn’t have a right to tear Mr. Hinata down if he had to wreck Hajime to do it.

He disgusted you, you’d decided months back, to make it all easier on yourself. Everything he’d done, the trouble he’d caused, the hurt he’d caused so many people. Routinely, you reinforced to yourself that you hated Nagito Komaeda

...You were disgusted by the way you… just... couldn’t hate him. It didn’t feel right. Something felt… wrong in hating him.

Your heart lurched, meeting his eyes again.

Why not? Why not just hate him, (Y/N)? Like everyone else…

Why was it so hard? You were supposed to be with Hajime. And Hajime hated Nagito. Everyone who knew Nagito hated Nagito. But… telling yourself you were anything but infatuated with that dangerous creature… was a lie. You owed everything, good and bad, to that feral, insane man.

Your nerves and the hairs on your arms pricked up like an agitated cat. Why why why? Why would he even do this? He knew what showing up here would start. He was born to start shit, to brew altercation, to cook up conflict. Maybe you should give him the benefit of the doubt? Perhaps he finally came to an event to support his darling step-brother, but the way he bore his fangs when his eyes met Hajime’s said otherwise.

❘ Leave. Just Leave. You're just here to antagonize me and I won't let you be a problem. Not today. This is my day… ❘ Hajime spat mentally, and his thoughts burned through your own and, you're sure, Nagito’s.

❘ Aren’t all the days yours, Your Majesty? ❘ Nagito’s thoughts were more severe, yet more playful, taunting, careless, a venomous snarl behind every synapse pulse.

❘ ...Leave. ❘ Hajime pulsed back in warning.

❘ ....Or what? ❘ Nagito’s own ominous threat reverberated through your cranium. You pressed a hand to your temple, an angry, stinging sensation pulsating through your head. Having a vampire read one’s mind was uncomfortable enough: feeling the slight probing and perhaps needing an aspirin after, but being the third line in a purebred pissing match… it was a call you desperately wanted to hang up on. But.. humans didn’t naturally hear a vampire’s thoughts on accident. No, you were hearing this conversation because you were meant to, someone wanted you to. You had no powers of your own, but Nagito kept you trapped in this nonverbal battle, strung up betwixt two immortal minds. You brought the back of your free hand up to your nose, wiping away a stripe of red vitality that began to flow from both nostrils. The panging inside, the angry shouting in your mind only got louder.

112 notes · View notes

ahysopae · 3 years

Text

The Gifted episode 1, or how to start introducing 15 characters without overwhelming the viewer

The Gifted first foundation are the characters: each of them is beautifully flawed. They're close enough of archetypes to give to the viewer references (it's very important to have elements to link them to another character or to yourself - 'I see myself in them' is the best and easiest way to get you to love a character), but also each one of them has their identity clearly defined. But we have 15 characters in total, and even if some of them are mostly in the background (looking at the twins right now), it was not possible to introduce all at once (luckily, because I would never remember all their names in this case). I suppose it's one of the reasons for the switch of main character between the episodes (and since I'm a sucker for this type of thing, I'm in awe).

The first episode focus on Pang (of course it's our protagonist, our Percy Jackson - maybe I should dive in this later), but also introduce us, at least in the surface, to Nac, Wave, Namtarn, Ohm and Pom and give us hints on almost all of the others. Pang is at first shown to us as a voice-over, solidifying him as the narrator, even if we realize soon that what he says is for his webcam. The bit before the opening presents him like someone charismatic and determined, a teenager speaking about something than most people know, because they live or lived it. For the sake of this analysis/words vomit I will forget the introduction of the episode, with all the teasers for what's soon to come. So the Pang we meet later see himself as dumb: we saw him as a quick-witted boy, good to play innocent, a bit impertinent, not good at test and a bit pouty when he fails - but kind, at heart. A good kid. Through him we discover the school system in all its unfairness, and even if it's shown kinda jokingly, already the horror of it start to be apparent.

Pang for this bit is our introduction to the universe of the show, because we discover the rules with him. It's a pretty common way to lead the viewer or reader in a new universe (in Star Wars, the movie starts with Luke leaving his farm and discovering something else in the galaxy, Harry Potter is literally introduced to the magical world, the hobbits in lotr leave the little Shire to travel in the rest of the Middle Earth, ...). The important part it's that we can link the two: Pang, like the Gifted program, is more that we think at first. He is mostly more dangerous, and we have some clues of that with his first use of his potential - already in the first episode, already on Nac.

Pang's existence is also the first break in the system: him being both gifted and in 8th class is a paradox, and almost everyone seems not sure what to do with him (except Pom, maybe) him the first. He believes that he hasn't his place in the gifted program, and is really insecure about that.

Nac seems at first a nice friend. He is okay too help Pang with his plans (helping him with the phone and lying for him about his class at meal) and to share his room with him. He is also favorable to the school system (clearly because he is in the good side of the fence), even if he haven't a issue to bend or break the rules for his own advantage. His mask breaks when his friend (his dumb friend, to be precise) has better than him.

Nac has two uses in the narrative: he is an opposite mirror of Wave (in words and in attitude - where Wave is prickly, Nac is charming, but both of them use the same insult, leech, on Pang about his relationship with the other) and he is a trigger to Pang's potential. In fact he is probably the one Pang controls the most in the season (I don't remember if he uses his potential two or three time on him, so don't quote me on that, I will probably realize my mistake later on).

Wave - well, Wave is Wave. The first thing we see of him is in the classroom while Pang runs with the phone he takes back (remember, I don't cover the introduction's part here, because the first thing we see of him is, in fact, a background for a second during an exam and him punching Pang). He looks extremely bored, almost sleeping on his table (in contrast with Nac, on the same line than him, who drinks the teacher's words), until Pang literally break the studious ambiance, proving again that he is here to disturb the established order. Already we know that Wave doesn't feel the need to hide when something bore him, even if he is in a social situation where he should. He comes out like not good socially, arrogant and not the type to try to please.

His first interaction with Pang is a disaster (like no Wave, it's not how you flirt make a friend), and could place him on the school's side (symbolized by the ominous Ladda) even if we realize soon enough that the only side Wave chooses is his own. It leads again to a confrontation Nac/Wave, where Wave is defined as a solitary kid, in contrast with the sociable Nac. Nac himself establishes Wave as a mathematical/computer genius who takes pride in his intelligence (and the flashback, by focusing at first on Punn, gives us an hint of him as almost as intelligent than Wave - he raises his hand almost as fast but more politely - until we realize Wave doesn't write his answer. It tells us that Punn is clever, well-mannered and hard-working, and also that his relationship with Wave will be competitive but they are linked in a way or an other).

Him reveling the meaning of potentials just after Pang understood it and seemed ready to give the answer (even if it was in fact to ask to leave), is a proof that they could form a good team -or be the worst of enemies.

For Namtarn, lets first address the elephant in the room: I don't believe one instant the "romantic" interaction between Pang and her (cut to my mum telling "if it's how men and women interact in Thailand, their birth rate must be really low"). It's worst again in contrast with Claire and Punn, who are almost glued to the hips, or the friendship between Korn and Claire or Mon, or between Namtarn and Ohm. They tried romance, I see clumsy awkward people, and I can't believe it's not voluntarily.

Aside from that, Namtarn appears like perceptive, guessing who is Pang and that he is in the gifted class, a bit curious and nice, even if socially she's not the best (and I mean, yeah, they're 15-years-olds, so it's normal, like it's normal if some of them are cocky to the extreme). It could give us some clue about the fact that she grows up pretty sheltered, but it's maybe a stretch for my part.

Ohm first phrase is for asking a pen (does someone counted how many pens Ohm loses? It will be a fun statistic). He comes as the smiley-go-lucky kind of guy, telling everything that crosses his mind, putting his feet on his mouth every time he speaks. Also for the enigma posed by Pom he clearly doesn't know the answer and only raise his hand to follow the group.

Side question but why no one give him tissues? Boy nosebleeds every two minutes.

The first we see of Pom is when Pang and Nac try to steal the exam's results. His face stay in the shadow while we discover he is in charge of the exam. I feel obligated to point that we see his face a bit more after he drops his pen, and we know how much this pen is important for the rest of the plot (I'm realizing right now that it's in fact, a Chekhov's gun) . For his first apparition before the class, he has an image of a nice teacher, asking his students to call him by his nickname. Already we can link the metronome to him, since its in the classroom (since it's shown while Ohm has a nosebleed trying to resolve the rubik's cube, we can say it's linked to the potential too, but it's maybe a stretch).

To ends that, I want to point that the first plan where we see all the gifted class, when Pang enters, gives us a lot of information about the characters and their relationships together (It also puts us in Pang's shoes). We have the group Mon-Korn-Claire-Punn: Korn smile to Mon and Claire, Claire speaks to Mon and Korn before turning her head to Punn, her body already directed to him, Punn is separated to them since he sits on his table, but his body is turned in Claire's direction too. Namtarn is ready to take note, her back straight, while Ohm is slumped on his table and looks around. When we have a plan on each of them watching Pang, Mon's face is open and curious, Korn kinda shy away, Claire is disdainful, Punn is attentive, the twins gauge him (and already they have matching band-aids and Wave rolls his eyes so hard he clearly make it voluntarily.

#the gifted #the gifted the series #the gifted rewatch #the gifted episode 1 #analysis

15 notes · View notes

viktorhargreves · 4 years

Text

some thoughts i have on the s2 promo stills

I think Ben is appearing either in a dream or to someone other than Klaus. The reason I believe this is the color composition for the shot and the framing. The Umbrella Academy is a dark show. Literally. And the season two promo pictures are no different from season one. Why the sudden departure from this? Promotional photos directly from the source (i.e. the production department) usually are not put through filters so this is how it will be shown in the show. So why the brightness? I think it’s either a dream or revelation (you know the cheesy trope where the sunlight streams in and someone finally pieces things together) or maybe it’s a vision that someone has of Ben. Contenders for this? No idea. But judging from the body that’s strung up on the ceiling (yeah, I didn’t forget that part) it could be Vanya. Or I could be totally wrong. Either way, the body does hint towards Klaus’ telekinesis, something he has in the comics that we have yet to see in the show (besides the suitcase debacle).

We know that Five is the last to be sent to the 60′s so if he’s stuck in a new time with no one around what does he do? Find a mannequin and make a new friend (or something more). Maybe what we are seeing is him about to home-wreck this bitch and steal little miss blue-dress here. Or maybe he’s looking back at a different character... the villains of this season perhaps? Or maybe The Handler makes a comeback? Either way, he looks cautious and if he is looking at someone less than savory then the set up we see could be set up to mock him rather than a harmless department store display.

The paper reads: “S.J.C.C. asks... Have you experienced DISCRIMINATION by your employeer?” Not much comes up in Google for a look into who S.J.C.C. could be but I personally am SYKED to see The Umbrella Academy hopefully tackle race issues. Especially at this time in the world, it could be what people need. Also a new hairstyle for Allison which I love. I personally hope Allison is thriving but this is the 60′s and even though The Civil Rights Act was signed in ‘64, there was no across-the-board stop of segregation at once. I hope for her sake she stays safe.

Again, we know that Five is the last one to arrive. Perhaps he gathers them all to this place to tell them about the newest apocalyptic event about to take place. But a barn? Not sure why. Everyone else is dressed in back, however, even Klaus which is very telling that something is wrong. Allison has lost the hair bump (she was probably just wearing it to fit in). Luther has a beard which is very telling as well because the only other time that we have seen him with one is when he woke up from his surgery (supposedly after a long period of time) so if it was in his control he would shave it off to be the good little soldier that dad made him. Maybe being stranded in Texas in the 60′s made him depressed like we saw towards the end of season one or maybe he just wants to live a little. Diego’s outfit looks very similar to his vigilante outfit in season one but with what looks like either shoulder pads or a hoodie. This could be one of two things: he is still a vigilante using his powers for good, or he works a job like construction or something similar judging by the cross-chest harness. And Vanya. Look’s like she’s wearing a suit jacket. Peak gay. No further comment.

GOOD GOD!!! What to say, what to say. As it’s been pointed out already by many other users, Ben. Is. Holding. Keys. That means he is corporeal and has a physical body. Whether this is for a short period of time like when he punches Klaus in season one or if this marks the beginning of a new era of Ben-filled The Umbrella Academy is unknown. Klaus is a fashion icon. That much we been knew. Although, his beard is longer than the promo pictures despite being in the same outfit. Longer than the picture above too. I’m excited for this scene regardless of what it is about, but if I had to guess: Klaus is motioning for Ben to give the keys to him. The car broke down. Klaus gets out and tries to fix it by popping the hood, only he knows nothing about cars. He gets angry and throws the keys. Ben catches them. Klaus is then irritated and asks for them back. That’s just my take. Klaus looks like he’s smiling but it could be the natural face a person makes when they are squinting from the sun (this is Texas and those are sunglasses (also water is wet)).

#justgirlythings. Vanya is the only one who seems uncomfortable, also where are Klaus’s shoes? If you look in the background it appears this isn’t a salon as you would guess on the first look but rather someone’s house. Maybe this is a way to time travel without Five? Or some other sci-fi device like the shoot that Cha-Cha and Hazel used in season one to get their orders. Either way, there is a lot more going on here than we know from first looking and I wouldn’t put it past anyone that this is an important still to remember and keep in mind.

Iron Man references aside (thank you Justin Min), look at her entire body posture and language. Clenched jaw, clenched fists, forehead straining, eyes closed but not clenched like the others, neck straining. Vanya appears to be in the middle of nowhere so maybe she’s testing her powers? Last time we saw her testing her powers it was in the middle of the woods with Leonard so maybe this will be a good parallel. What else to do in the 60′s when you’re stranded than to try out your superpowers that you just remembered a few days ago?

Vanya! Is! Happy! She is definitely smiling and looks genuinely more happy than she did with Leonard in any event. The blonde woman is Marin Ireland who plays a character “Sissy”. Variety and Netflix have stated that Sissy is "a fearless, no-nonsense mom from Texas who married young for all the wrong reasons". Maybe, and I’m just spit-balling here, she married young because of internalized and outward homophobia that is probably rampant in the 60′s and in Texas. She meets Vanya and the two begin a relationship. Friends? Lovers? More? Vanya’s right hand is either on a gear shift (manual transmission i.e. stick shift cars were much more common in the 60′s than now) or on Sissy’s knee. I like the idea of her resting her hand on Sissy’s thigh and smiling, maybe driving off on a new life together.

Like. The Gang’s all here, Scoob. Even Ben! Allison is talking, it seems so to have Ben in the shot is odd. Usually Ben only appears when Klaus is the main character of the shot or the scene since he can only see him. Except, maybe everyone can see him!! Klaus can summon Ben as seen in the season one finale so maybe he was able to do it for a longer amount of time. I personally really hope that we see more of Ben (which the stills lead me to believe) and that they will develop not only his character and backstory more but his powers as well. His power rivals only Vanya’s is sheer amount of destruction it can cause. The room, however, where they all are looks unassuming. It could be where Five has taken up a residence, could be a house of one of the other siblings (we know that some of them did in fact settle down and start lives in Texas), or maybe it’s just a safe place to meet as a team. Either way I am psyched!

It’s safe to assume that these are the assassins. Whether they are with the organization that The Handler was with is unclear. What is clear is that I get Stranger Things vibes from these guys. It might be the white hair and dark, cloudy road. Either way, these guys are played by Tom Sinclair, Kris Holden-Ried, and Jason Bryden left to right and they play Oscar, Axel, and Otto respectively.

Diego, Diego, Diego. My son. Disregarding the long hair and beard completely because I refuse to acknowledge it at this point, here is my interpretation of the scene. This is a flashback in the same fashion that we had a Diego flashback in episode three of season one. That flashback had Grace helping Diego through a stutter and then in one camera motion showed current-day Diego sitting on his old bed. This could be the same kind of thing, with current-day Diego sitting where he past self was and watching a scene unfold around him. Why else would he be in his uniform? How could it fit? How could he be back in the mansion?

-----------

That’s all I have to say about it for now but my ask box is OPEN for theories, possible explanations, or hypotheses on season two or any of the promotional stills. Time travel is messy. Let’s see what happens on July 31st.

#the umbrella academy #tua #tuaedit #netflix #netflixedit #i was not paid to do this lmao #mine #mine:headcanons #shows #rm #tua spoilers

150 notes · View notes

redhoodssweetheart · 4 years

Text

Hello Damian

Genre: Angst with happy ending

Relationship: Older!Damian x Gender Neutral!Reader

Requested: A follow up to a request I had (REQUESTS ARE CLOSED)

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending

Description: It’s been seven months since your supposed death Damian’s mother is captured and he learns that you are still alive and living not far from Gotham.

A/N: Read the story that comes before this: Goodbye Damian

BEFORE

Damian sat in his room staring out the window as a robin flew by. He snorted at the irony and slowly turned his gaze away from the cloud covered sky. It seemed like more often than not his days without you seemed cloudy and deprived of sunshine. It had been seven months since they had buried you, seven months since he thought he saw you standing on the hill in the cemetery.

He had chased after you, hoping to see you again. Hoping and praying that it was you watching him from the trees. But when he reached the spot there was no sign of you. Only tracks where two people had been standing. He had frowned when he saw them, one set reminded him of his brother Jason’s favorite pair of combat boots while the others reminded Damian of shoes that you liked to wear.

He had gone back to the manor and back to Bruce saying that he thought it was you, that he was so sure it had been you watching him. Bruce had merely pulled Damian in for a hug, not sure what to say. He couldn’t tell Damian that it hadn’t been you because it very well could have been. Jason said he was going to take you to the cemetery so you could see Damian one more time before starting over a few towns away.

There was a knock on Damian’s door alerting him to another presence. Alfred poked his head in, “Master Damian, your father wishes to have a word with you.”

Damian nodded and rose to his feet and followed Alfred down the hall toward his father’s study. He passed Selina on the way and they nodded tersely at each other. Damian and Selina didn’t hate one another, but they weren’t exactly eager to be in the other’s presence. They respected each other and understood that both of them cared for Bruce and they weren’t going to debase themselves to petty arguments and the like for Bruce’s sake.

Alfred gently pushed the door open to Bruce’s study and allowed Damian to enter before closing the door behind him to give father and son some privacy. “Alfred said you wished to speak with me,” Damian said, his hands folded behind his back.

Bruce was eyeing his son from behind his desk wondering how best to break the news. “Your mother was captured by the Justice League earlier after trying to steal some information from a government office in Italy.”

Damian nodded his head, unsurprised to hear this, “I take it she’s currently in one of the League’s holding cells.”

“She is, but the Italian government is calling for us to release her into their custody so that they can deal with her accordingly.”

Damian scoffed, “An Italian prison won’t be able to hold my mother.” Not like one of the League cells could at least.

“The League is aware of this and are currently negotiating terms with the Italian authorities. I called you here to inform you of this and ask if you wanted to speak with her before anything has been decided any further?”

Damian considered his father’s offer, “I would. It’s been sometime since I spoke to her. I should probably see how she’s doing.”

“I’ll call Oliver and tell him, we can be on a plane there tonight if you wish.” Damian gave a stiff nod and headed back to his room to back a few things before their trip.

The katana went swinging over your head so fast you almost didn’t dodge it in time. You rolled to the side and quickly hopped back up and went after your assailant. Jason blocked your attack and grinned at you, “You’re getting better.”

You smirked and shoved him away quickly trying to kick his feet out from under him, but he merely jumped up to avoid the attack. “I think you’re just becoming too complacent,” you teased.

For the past seven months you had lived in a little cabin on the outskirts of some unknown town that Jason had found. It wasn’t too far from Gotham, but far enough that you wouldn’t be noticed by anyone. You worked in a little diner earning meager tips and getting hit on by some of the people there. Jason stayed with you most of the time, but he would spend the nights at Wayne Manor so he wouldn’t raise suspicions on where he was going all the time.

Most of the time he lied and said that he had a date with some girl just to avoid Damian’s probing. Jason always thought that Damian was too perceptive for his own good. When he was with you though his sole focus was on training you to make sure that you could defend yourself whenever he wasn’t around. The two of you had grown closer and were now more like siblings than the acquaintances that you had once been.

It was nice to have some attachment to your former life in Gotham around. Jason often brought you news of Damian, though it wasn’t always good. You knew he sugar coated most of it so you wouldn’t be tempted to go running back to Gotham. There wasn’t a chance of you doing that though. This was for your safety as well as Damian. You couldn’t have him hating his mother if she managed to kill you. They had a tentative relationship, but she was still his mother.

You managed to knock Jason’s katana away from him, a triumphant smile on your face and he chuckled. “Okay, enough for today I gotta get ready for work.”

Jason understood and watched you hurry off to get ready for the evening shift at the diner.

Damian stood before his mother's cell. She was alone on this block and sitting on the cot at the farthest wall staring at her son. It had been five minutes since his arrival and neither of them had spoken a word to the other. Finally Talia sighed, “Why so sad Damian? Afraid of what may happen to your dear mother?”

Damian kept his stoic look, “No, I’m sure whatever punishment they can come up with will be adequate enough.”

Talia cocked her head to the side and studied her son, “You seem different. Does this have to do with that person you were dating?”

Damian narrowed his eyes at his mother, the first time he had shown any emotion since arriving, “Do not speak their name.”

She grinned, “I had plans to kill them. They were such a distraction, but then they died and I guess I didn’t have to worry about them anymore.” Damian clenched his fists. “Although I did hear something interesting. A little birdie told me that they saw someone who looked suspiciously like Y/N and Jason in a little town not far from Gotham. I wonder what they could be doing there.”

Damian stepped closer to his mother’s cell, “Talk.”

AFTER

The bell on the door to the diner where you worked dinged and you called over your shoulder, “Take a seat wherever you’d like, I’ll be with you in a moment.” You hear retreating footsteps and continued working on the table that had been recently vacated. When you stood and turned you dropped the tray. Damian was sitting a few tables behind you just staring, his face unreadable.

One of your coworkers rushed over and started saying your name, but you were hearing her through a filter. It was almost like you had been submerged in water and everything was muffled. Damian was here. Damian was here and he was staring at you.

He knew you were alive.

You wanted to bolt for the door and try to escape, tell Jason to play it off as if Damian had been seeing things, but you knew that would never work. He was too smart to believe something as simple as that.

“Y/N,” your coworker shook you, her eyes going to the man at the table you were staring at. The two of you were looking at each other so intensely, but you were shaking. “Are you okay? Should I call someone?”

“No Celia,” you finally found your voice. “I need to clock out early. Can you cover the last part of my shift?”

“Yeah, yeah go ahead, it’s dead in here anyway,” you winced at her word choice and quickly ducked into the back.

Celia walked over to the man whose eyes had followed your every move. “Listen, I don’t know who you think you are,” her voice drew his attention away from the door that you disappeared through. “But you better not hurt Y/N.”

Damian merely smiled at the woman, “Y/N is an old friend, they didn’t know I was coming, I just shocked them is all.”

Celia eyed him skeptically, but nodded and headed to the opposite side of the diner to take care of some more customers that had come in. Meanwhile you were in the back on the phone with Jason.

“Damian’s here,” your voice shook and you glanced over your shoulder to make sure he hadn’t followed you here. “How is he here?”

Jason was cursing, “I was just about to call you. Bruce took him to see his mother, the League captured her and she’s in their custody for the moment. She told him that you were still alive, how she knew I have no clue. I was gonna move you, I’ve been getting our things together here, I thought we would have more time. Y/N, I’m sorry.”

You let out a breath and squared your shoulders, “Well if she’s in custody then there’s no reason for me to be in hiding anymore, and especially if she knew I wasn’t dead.”

“Right, but still this was a big surprise for you. Are you going to be okay?” His concern made you smile, he really was like an older brother to you.

“I’ll be fine, I owe him an explanation,” you said. “I just hope he isn’t too angry.”

“I’ll let you and Damian have some time alone so you can talk. Just let me know if you need anything and I’ll come running,” he offered.

The two of you said your goodbyes and hung up. You gathered your things from your locker in the back and waved goodbye to the cook and entered the main portion of the diner again. Damian was still at the table with a cup of coffee before him. He was watching the steam rising from the surface before lifting the cup to his lips and taking a drink.

You couldn’t quite believe that he was here and that he knew you were alive. Sighing, you walked back over to him, “Hello Damian.”

He looked up, his expression unreadable, “Y/N.”

You flinched at the flatness to his voice, “Let’s go somewhere more private. If we don’t our business will be all over town.” He stood and followed you out to your car, he watched as you fiddled with your keys wondering what was going through your mind at that moment.

The two of you slipped into your car and took off toward the place you called home. The first five minutes were quiet as the two of you just sat there not sure who should speak first. Finally you couldn’t take it anymore and asked, “Are you mad?”

It took him a moment to answer and that had your heart beating wildly in your chest, “At you? No. At the others? A little.”

“We didn’t want to have to do this, Damian,” you glanced at him, but in the darkness you couldn’t see his face well. “Your dad wanted to protect the both of us. He wanted to try and protect me and salvage what was left from your relationship with your mom.”

“He should have told me the truth,” Damian’s voice was low as he spoke as if he were trying to hold in his anger as best he could. “I could have protected you. You were my partner, and I should have known. Instead, all of you let me believe that you were dead for seven months.”

“Your mother had to believe I was actually dead,” you argued. “Would you have been able to do that?” He was silent. “Don’t just blame your dad, it was a joint decision, and not an easy one to make at that.”

You had pulled into your driveway now and the two of you just sat there in silence. Damian was thinking things over, thinking over what he wanted to say to you next. “Are you going to disappear again?”

“No, not again,” you told him. “With your mother in custody I think I’m okay for now.”

“Then come home with me,” he said, his gaze turning to you at last. He reached over and took your hand. “Be with me again.”

You looked down at your entwined hands and then glanced back up at him wondering if this was a good idea. “Damian--”

“Please,” his voice broke and he held onto you a little bit tighter. “I can’t lose you again, not now when I know you’re alive.”

You pulled Damian into your arms and held him tightly, he squeezed you back, both of you relieved to be in each other’s arms again. “Give me a few more months here. Let me finish doing things here, I’m training with Jason and I want to complete that and to be honest I’m not ready to dive back into Gotham life again.”

He pulled back and cupped your face in his hands, “I understand, and take all the time you need. But can I make a request?”

You tilted your head and said, “Depends on what the request is?”

He chuckled, “It’s nothing serious or bad. I was just going to ask if I can come visit you and maybe help you train?”

You smiled, your heart feeling full, “Yes! Did you really think I was going to turn you down?”

He shrugged, “I wasn’t sure if you would still want space to kinda come to terms with the fact that I know and that I want you to come back to Gotham with me.”

“I want to come back,” you assured him. “And I’d love to train with you. I’m kinda excited to show you my katana skills. Jason says I’m pretty good.”

He grinned at you, “Yeah?”

“Mmhm,” you hummed and snuggled closer to him. “Stay tonight?” You asked, you weren’t ready to let him go just yet, not when you hadn’t held him for so long.

“Of course, don’t think for a second I’m going to leave you for the next couple of days. I want to hear everything,” he said. “I want to hear what the last seven months have been going.”

The two of you curled up in your bed together and you just talked. You told him about the friends you had made and what your job was like. You told him about your training with Jason and how frustrated you had been at first. Damian listened while tracing patterns on your back. And slowly you grew more tired and your words slurred, soon you were asleep and Damian smiled.

Kissing your forehead he whispered, “Goodnight, Y/N,” before closing his eyes and falling asleep himself.

#Damian Wayne x Reader #Damian Wayne x Reader angst #Damian Wayne #Damian Wayne fanfic #Damian Wayne fanfiction #Damian Wayne angst #DC Comics #DC Comics fanfic #DC Comics fanfiction #DC Comics angst #Requested

131 notes · View notes

hold-me-sickfics · 3 years

Text

Alright y’all, I’m proud to introduce you to some of my new OCs! There are more coming, but these are the first😊💖💜 I want to thank @thatoneemokpop-02 and @bt20-whump for proofreading and inspiration. You two are awesome 💜💖💙 so... here goes 😊

TW: food, strip club mention, alcohol, emeto, tiny heartbreak, lots of fluffy cuteness (I think that’s all but if you see any I missed please let me know and I will fix them!)

“Parker, what is the point of coming to the library if you are not going to study?” Cody only looked up from his laptop for a moment before refocusing on his screen.

“I’m trying to help my poor, clueless friend find a date to the smart people formal.” Parker was spinning his fidget spinner at speeds unheard of by mankind.

Cody rolled his eyes, stealing just one more glance to his left.

Parker noticed.

“Dude, why will you not just go talk to her?” Parker could definitely have been heard from across the room.

“Talk to who? I wasn’t looking at anyone.” Cody blushed, his cheeks involuntarily rising in a smile to meet the rims of his glasses.

“Sure. So you were totally not just checking Brooklyn out. Of course not, so you won’t mind if I just go on over there and-”

“Wait! Wait.”

Parker smirked.

“Maybe I was. It’s not important.”

“Are you kidding? Look when you meet the chick that makes you… well… I won’t say it for your sake but if Maverick was here I would. Anyways, that means you gotta shoot your shot. It’s like basketball.”

“Parker I hate sports. We’ve been over this.”

“All because one frisbee hit your glasses yeah yeah…” Parker looked over at Brooklyn. She looked like Cody’s type. He had to get Cody to at least attempt it.

“What if you ask for her snap?”

“I’m not doing that.” Cody shut his laptop. “And another thing. It looks sleazy to just walk up to a girl and ask for her snap okay? You really should try a new method.”

Parker had his idea.

“Oh… you know what? You’re right. What should I do instead?”

“I don’t know, maybe… talk to her? Like at least get on some sort of “friend” level before you ask. It just looks better.”

“Uh huh…” Parker was getting ready to help Cody in a slightly less than orthodox way. “So to talk to her, you’d need a reason right?”

Cody looked over at her, hoping she wouldn’t catch him.

“Yeah… some sort of reason I guess.”

“Okay, don’t kill me.”

Parker got up, and started to walk over to Brooklyn’s table. She was there alone, seemingly very involved in her studies.

“Pardon me ma’am. My name’s Parker, and I was wondering if you like pineapple on pizza?”

Brooklyn blushed.

“I don’t exactly think it’s my thing… although pepperoni is pretty good.” She smiled.

“Awesome. So now that I’ve been established as the crazy person you have in common, Cody?” Parker called back to his previous seat. Cody had his face hidden in a book. He peeked out, throwing the book aside and doing his best to act “chill” as Parker had called it.

“Hi Brooklyn, I apologize for this… i don’t really know what to call him actually. I’m Cody. The-” he partially glared at Parker “more sane one.”

“It’s nice to meet you Cody, and Parker.” She bit her lip, and Cody felt his entire body go stiff. Parker could tell he had to save the day once again.

“So, you’re a hot girl. Have a date to the smart people dinner thing yet?”

“You mean the Academic Formal?”

“Yeah, love the bigger words. They really suit ya.”

“Let me just- one second.” Cody practically pulled Parker over to the side.

“You’re an idiot.”

“But I’m good at it, thank you.” Parker winked, and then went back to Brooklyn.

“Here’s the thing, my main man Cody here doesn’t have a date yet, and I thought you two would make a really cute couple so here’s his snap.”

Cody felt dizzy. Had Parker really just done that? This was the last time he was ever disclosing feelings to him. Actually, come to think of it, this is not the first time he’s said that.

Parker laid on his classic *Dean Winchester* smile, and then came back over to Cody.

“I’m literally planning your demise as we speak.”

------ time skip to 5:00 pm, in Parker’s dorm room------

“Ah I did good today. I found love for the little guy. I’m proud of myself and that means-”

“Do not touch the ice cream Parker I swear I will hurt you.”

Parker jumped.

“Maverick you aren’t supposed to be home yet!”

“And you aren’t supposed to touch my ice cream. So, even.” Maverick took the container away from Parker.

“Now, you wanna explain to me why Cody is trying to recruit me to kill you?”

“Not really.”

“Should I have him explain it?”

“Probably not… how about you just eat your ice cream hm? That would end well for all of us.”

Maverick rolled his eyes. He knew Parker must have really done something bad this time.

*buzz* *buzz*

Parker’s phone went off.

5:23 pm Cody: “ Why did you have to butt in?”

5:24 pm Parker: “ Because you couldn’t do it yourself.”

5:26 pm Cody: “Yeah and if you hadn’t done it, I could still be admiring her from afar and just getting silently and unrightfully irritated when she found another date.”

5:34 pm Parker: “Andddddd where’s the fun in that?”

5:37 pm Cody: “THE FACT THAT IT IS SAFE YOU NIMROD!”

5:43 pm Parker: “It’s still funny that you won’t cuss.”

5:45 pm Cody: “She just snapped me! What do I do? Parker I am scared.” “Parker?” “Parker!”

6:00 pm Parker: “Sorry, Maverick let me have ice cream and I forgot to text back.”

6:02 pm Cody: “ *facepalm* you are no help.”

6:15 pm Parker: “Well, what did it say?”

6:17 pm Cody: “I’m scared to look.”

6:18 pm Parker: “Dude, I’ll tell you what it says. Ready?” “ Hi”

6:20 pm Cody: “SHE WROTE BACK “HI” WHAT DO I SAY???????”

6:21 pm Parker: “You’re sure they invited you to the smart people thing right? Like it wasn’t a mix up?”

6:22 pm Cody: “Parker yes they invited me. I’m so dang smart that I have no idea how to… “my people skills are rusty.””

6:24 pm Parker: “Dude if you don’t stop with the references I am going to send you to a psych ward.”

6:25 pm Cody: “Noted. Okay, I am going to respond.”

6:30 pm Parker: “Good now text me when you have an actual conversation rolling aight?”

Parker put his phone in his pocket and went back to his ice cream cone. At 7:00, he got another text.

7:00 pm Cody: “She… um… she told me she’s going with someone else.”

Now Parker felt bad. The poor kid got rejected, and unlike himself, who bounces back and just moves on, he knew Cody had a tendency to get attached. Ah well, no use crying over spilled milk.

7:01 pm Parker: “Who?”

7:03 pm Cody: “It doesn’t matter. I’m glad she found someone she wants to go with. Well, I’m gonna go on to sleep so I can study some more tomorrow. Night Park.”

7:04 pm Parker: “Sorry dude. Night Cody.”

Now he felt really really bad. He thought for a bit, and then, an idea hit him.

7:23 pm Parker: “I am on my way. Do not do anything stupid like buying more books. You cannot keep any more in your room. There is officially no more space.”

Parker was going to do the one thing he knew cured heartbreak. They were both 21…

When Parker got there, he found Cody halfway through a bag of popcorn watching a romcom.

“Dude… I get that you’re sad but this is just straight tragic.”

Cody sniffled, holding the blanket up to his nose.

“Shush this is all I have now.”

“Nope, not gonna happen. Come on.” Parker picked Cody up and placed him on his feet.

“Why can you not let me cry in peace?”

“Because it’s not how I roll. Now, we’re getting you dressed, and then we’re going to a strip club.”

“But.. but I don’t-”

“Trust me, you’ll get the hang of it.”

Parker had considered inviting Maverick, but he was kinda the rule-stickler type. His grandparents had raised him to be pretty straight-laced.

---- time skip to driving to the club-----

“I really think this is a bad idea.” Cody looked down at his navy button-up and his black pants and dress shoes.

“You’ll be fine. Look, I’ve done this hundreds of times.”

“Hundreds??”

“Eh, okay maybe tens, but same thing.”

They pulled into the parking lot, and the one thing that went through Cody’s mind is that this was not going to end well.

----- time skip to 3:28 am-----

“Wowwww she was-s right in ma face! Did you see?”

“Yes I saw.” Cody pulled his friend up from the floor of the club.

“Ohh no! Iss time to go ba-back now?”

“It is. Maverick is probably worried about you.”

“Pshhhhhhhh nahhhhh… m’ fin”

“You’re fine?”

“Yeash I’m fineeeeee”

“And here I was thinking I was a lightweight. Alright, out we go.”

“BYE BRITTNEEEEEEEEEE!” Parker’s head lolled to the side as he let Cody handle most of his body weight.

They stumbled to the car, somehow making it in a decent amount of time. Cody opened the passenger side door, and helped Parker slide in.

“Thank you *burp* you’re my bestesetest of frans. I luv you mann.”

Even Cody had to laugh.

“I love you too. Now, in the car. We’re putting your seatbelt on.”

“NO! NO I WON’T BE TAKEN AGAIN! I CAN’T GO BACK *hiccup*”

“Tell it to the judge bub.”

Parker heard the seatbelt click into place and immediately started bawling.

“I *hiccup* am s-so sorry-yee. I did not mean to *hiccup* tell the *hiccup* panda to go *hiccup* f-”

“Okay that’s enough bud. Sleep. We’re headed home.”

“I c-can’t f-feel my eyeballs *hiccup*”

“You aren’t supposed to feel them. They’re just there.”

“BUT HOW DO I KNOW THEY ARE NOT STOLEN????”

Cody took a deep breath and looked down at the clock in the dashboard. They’d be home in ten minutes, maybe less if Parker didn’t stop blubbering. He’d already called Maverick, who had assured Cody he would take care of their drunk friend, but Cody had decided maybe it would be nice to take care of Parker instead of being on his own tonight. Despite everything that happened that night, he still wanted some company.

“Oh jolly good young fellow wherefore art the d- oh! Look at the grass! It’s so green!”

“It’s brown bub. It’s winter.” Cody smiled, pulling into the parking place that he’d been assigned.

Cody smiled, pulling into the parking place that he’d been assigned.

“Welp… I’m bout to turn it *hiccup* green…”

Cody looked over to see Parker’s cheeks puffed out and his chest rolling forward in a heave.

“Hang on! Hang on-” He jumped out of the car and opened the door on Parker’s side. It was just in time. Pure alcohol mixed with some sort of greenish jello shot coated the ground. It splattered onto Cody’s pants, but he didn’t care.

“There ya go. You’re doing great.” He awkwardly rubbed Parker’s back as the boy gagged again, turning to face the grass below once more.

“M’ overdid *gag* it…” Parker started to cry from the exertion.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about that now. Cody’s gotcha.”

Another bout of liquid spattered on the ground, some of it dripping down Parker’s chin. Cody had some napkins put away in the glove compartment, so he reached in and grabbed a couple.

“I *hiccup* unhghh…”

“You done Park?”

“Yeah…”

As if his body were trying to prove that it would not be controlled, he heaved up another round of clear, bubbly liquid.

“M’ done now.”

“Okay, up we go.” Cody wiped Parker’s mouth before slowly helping him up. His friend looked so pitiful, his hair so tousled and sweaty, his skin so pale… he hated to see him feeling so bad, but he had done it to himself.

“Alright, now… we’re going upstairs to my dorm room. If you need to puke, here’s a bag. Tell me to stop walking if we need to.”

Cody knew that was too much information, but it was worth a shot.

By some miracle, they made it to Cody’s room. Cody scanned his entry card, and then helped Parker onto the bed.

He sat next to him, rubbing his arm. Parker was curled up in a tiny half-asleep ball.

*buzz-buzz*

4:35 am Maverick: “Hey, you guys okay? How much did he drink?”

4:37 am Cody: “More than he should have… hey listen um… I was wondering… do you happen to know who’s going to the dinner with Brooklyn? She told me she was going with someone but didn’t say who.”

4:46 am Maverick: “You’re gonna flip out if I tell you.”

As much as that text intrigued him, Parker had partially woken up and had just puked all over himself and the bed.

Cody put his phone on the bedside table and then held Parker up so he wouldn’t choke if he puked again. Which, he did.

“Hnnngh… I feel like s***.”

“I know. You look like crap too.”

“Hhuuurrrrrrrkkk!” A thick, sludgy liquid came up.. It was sort of white and yellow… oh wait. Yeah, Cody would never look at french fries the same after tonight.

“That’s it. Get it up. I’ll fix the bed later.” Cody knew he couldn’t move him yet, so it was just best to get everything out.

After a few more empty, dry retches, Parker was finally done for the moment. Cody made the decision to take him to the bathroom and let him sit next to the toilet while he got some of his extra clothes to put on him.

He heard loud retching, almost obnoxious, from the bathroom. He just took a breath and went on looking for the clothes, knowing that more than likely Parker wouldn’t be done for a while, and probably didn’t register that he was there anyways.

“C-Cody?” A weak whimper filled the silence. Cody was shocked, but immediately grabbed a pair of boxers (which admittedly he felt weird about), pajama pants and a t-shirt, and then went to the bathroom.

He found Cody in a puddle of puke, tears streaming down his face.

“Don feel *hiccup* good…”

Cody felt his heart break.

“It’s okay. I know you don’t feel good. I promise it’ll be over soon.” He had to lie. The poor thing in this confused, overly dazed state couldn’t take the truth that he’d more than likely be puking for the next two days after how much he drank.

Cody got down next to Parker, putting a hand on Parker’s back. His shirt was damp with sweat and vomit. Cody rubbed up and down on his side, watching as Parker curled himself around the toilet.

“You’re gonna be okay Park.”

“S-sorry…” For a moment, Parker almost sounded sober…

“It’s alright, I can clean it up. You’re good.”

“No… the *hiccup* chick…”

Cody had been trying to forget about that.

“It’s not a big deal, really.”

“If I didn’t feel *hiccup* like I was gonna *hiccup* throw my guts up *hiccup* I’d have tried harder…” Parker turned his head back toward the water and puked up a thick stream of alcohol and whatever other fried foods he’d gotten into.

Cody felt bad. He knew Parker had tried, but he felt worse that Parker was sitting here puking and still thinking about that. He was sick. He didn’t need to be worried about that.

“Let’s um… talk about it when you’re sober hm?” Cody smiled sheepishly.

Parker nodded, his mouth opening slightly before gagging again.

“I’m gonna go get the bed ready. Can you stay here for a bit?”

“Mhmmm…” Parker spit a stringy line of saliva into the toilet.

Cody went out, and took the bedspread and pillowcases off. He tried to get as much of the puke off as he could, but hopefully the washing machine could do most of the work. He didn’t have another comforter, so he had to find his best throw blanket and go with that.

He finished making the bed, and then went back to the bathroom.

“Park?”

The boy was asleep on the toilet seat. Cody could feel his heartstrings being pulled one by one. He wet a washcloth and then sat down next to Parker, leaning him back slowly onto his shoulder. Cody then softly wiped his face, noting how sick he looked. Usually Parker was all crazy plans and bold ideas and loud things. It was far different to see him this way. So quiet, weak, and… helpless really.

He continued to clean Parker up, and then got him into fresh clothes. Then he helped him to the bed, and laid him down. This time, he’d put a bucket next to him. Not that it would really make much difference since Parker was probably too drunk to notice it. He pulled the blanket up to Parker’s shoulders, and then went back to the bathroom, cleaning up the rest of the mess.

When he finished, he went back to the couch and fell asleep. He knew he’d need the rest for Parker’s hangover the next morning. Thank goodness today was a Friday so they wouldn’t have school tomorrow.

(Part 2 coming soon!)

#emeto #tw food #OC #Parker #Cody #Maverick #Alcohol #strip club mention

17 notes · View notes

tachimuquet · 3 years

Text

Darkest Days - An Aliea Academy Arc Canon Divergence AU

I came up with a AU nobody asked for: a what-if AU where Endou never came back to Raimon after the event of episodes 45 & 46 of the OG series. It’s still a massive WIP, but I figured I may as well share it.

Season 2 spoilers ahead, of course, but who hasn’t been at least spoiled on it already. Also, warning for my obvious character preference -- it’s only a basis, so I plan on counterbalancing those more later down the line. Suggestions are welcome because I can never know too much what I’m doing.

MAIN DIFFERENCES -Hitomiko urges Raimon to get back on track, barely waiting for Fubuki to recover. -Endou doesn't get over his slump from episode 46 and, instead of joining back the team, stays in Fukuoka. -To replace him, Hitomiko appoints Kidou as the new Raimon captain and convinces Tachimukai to join Raimon by using his admiration for Endou against him. -A greater emphasis is laid on the challenges Kidou has to face as the captain and Tachimukai as the rookie goalkeeper thrusted into Endou's shoes.

FUKUOKA -Endou never leaves, insted remaining depressed on Yokato's roof while the team is forced to continue. -Originally, the team insurrected itself against Hitomiko, lead by Ichinose and Domon's efforts. Kidou managed to convinced everyone Endou would come back, since he'd never give up, and to continue not for their coach, but for the sake of everyone else. -Endou keeps the copybook with him, so the team leaves without it.

OKINAWA -Having barely mastered Majin the Hand, Tachimukai has to learn Seigi no Tekken to keep on top of Aliea's ever-growing power. He remembers talking about it with Endou, so he knows what the super duper mysterious formula is, but needs to make it work on his own. -The team still goes to search for Gouenji because, lacking Endou, he's their only hope to make the situation any sort of better. -Due to Tachimukai learning Seigi no Tekken instead of Endou, he's the one who gets a surfing lesson from Tsunami, and their bonding starts there rather than with the training for the match against Chaos. -Tsunami and Touko end up becoming the team's new motivators in lieu of Endou.

EPSILON KAI -Gouenji still saves everyone's asses, original I know. -Seigi no Tekken officially reaches G1 during that match, but stays there for a while due to the circumstances preventing the stress-prone Tachimukai to make it evolve. The lion metaphor stays, I guess? -Raimon still wins, but it's by the teeth of their skin and with Fubuki in a dire state, and Diamond Dust's appearance makes everyone shake a little. -At least, Gouenji's comeback to the team makes everyone more optimistic and the explanation as to why he had to leave the team makes everyone hate Hitomiko a little less.

DIAMOND DUST -Aphrodi still comes to save the day when the team is running short. -Instead of Endou running to do The Phoenix and making the team realize it's lacking in firepower, the almost fatal error from the team is to almost lose to a defender stealing the ball and running for it... or something better than that. I need to think about it. -As Diamond Dust still ties with Raimon, Chaos gets formed.

THE CHANGES IN RAIMON -Aphrodi still becomes a forward for Raimon, but instead of Endou, Tsunami becomes a libero due to his sheer shooting force. -Instead of Endou, Tsunami learns Death Zone 2 with Kidou and Domon. -The "match" between the Teikoku and Raimon teams still happens, but it's a little different, since there is no Mugen the Hand and there is no conversation between Tsunami and Tachimukai from Raimon's side of the field. Instead, the latter is left to think if he wants to keep using Seigi no Tekken, which he feels like he stole from Endou, or come up with something else. -Said "match" makes Kidou feel a little better about being a captain, since he hasn't lost his thunder.

THE CHAOS -The team still gets curb-stomped with a 10-0 in the first half due to Tachimukai suddenly ceasing to use Seigi no Tekken. It takes a pep talk with Tsunami ake his motives rise to the surface (which is a combination of anxiety and the feeling of stealing Endou's property). He does end up going back to using it to prevent an eleventh goal by stopping Atomic Flare. -Fire Blizzard breaks through Seigi no Tekken, unfortunately, so you know what it means. -Fubuki's personalities fuse when he watches the team lose against Chaos; passes through the defenders and avoids Aphrodi's injuries from canon.

TO MOUNT FUJI -Hitomiko still gets busted by the managers who hear Gran call her his big sister. -Raimon is even less enthusiastic about following this woman's orders without much of an explanation, and if it wasn't for Kidou's best efforts, everyone'd have left her. Instead, they once again decide to work with her to avenge their fallen comrades and because, for the first time, she's shown some vulnerability due to finally answering a couple questions. Also, you know, they need to stop Aliea once and for all.

THE GENESIS -Gran, instead of taunting Endou, taunts Afuro and Tachimukai, whom he's spotted as the weakest points in the chain. Kidou and Gouenji, who he also try to target, are insensible to his taunting. -Aphrodi, while he temporarily succumbs to the taunting, gets out of it by the end of the first half with a speech from Kidou and the others telling him he’s part of the team and that they’re glad to have in board. -Seigi no Tekken doesn't evolve nearly as quickly as Mugen the Hand did in canon, but instead, the reason why it succeeds against progressively stronger shoots is due to its user constantly digging in his strength (and, also, more emphasis on Tachimukai handling things terribly under stress). -The last Raimon goal isn't The Earth, since Endou still has the copybook in his possession, but a new technique from Aphrodi, Fubuki and Gouenji, The Galaxy.

DARK EMPERORS -Raimon gets pretty much nullified by the DE until Tsunami manages to find an opening, like in canon. -Like in canon, the Dark Emperors manage to injure everyone on the team with the added malus that Endou, the sturdiest of the team, isn’t here anymore. As nobody is there to check on him, Tachimukai powers through his canon hand injury to protect the goal as much as he can... to mixed results, to say the least. -Endou arrives right as Tachimukai is about to pass out, saving the team from having to forfait due to having no player left standing. -Mugen the Hand is what saves the day, in the end, as Endou learnt it while he was in Fukuoka. -The last goal is, you guessed it, The Earth. That’s when the DE finally snap out of their Aliea-induced daze.

BEHIND THE SCENES -Endou has been training with Yokato like Gouenji did with Hijitaka in Okinawa. He learnt more about his grandfather from Yokato's headmaster and, as such, knows more about the copybook from Fukuoka.

"DARKEST DAYS" RAIMON COMPOSITION 1. Tachimukai Yuuki (GK) 3. Kabeyama Heigorou (DF) 4. Tsunami Jousuke (DF/Libero) 6. Kogure Yuuya (DF) 7. Urabe Rika (FW) 8. Zaizen Touko (DF) 9. Fubuki Shirou (DF/FW) 10. Gouenji Shuuya (FW) 11. Afuro Terumi (FW) 12. Megane Kakeru (FW) 13. Domon Asuka (DF) 14. Kidou Yuuto (MF/FW/Captain) 16. Ichinose Kazuya (MF) (In italics: players with arcs/techniques/positions affected by the canon divergence.)

#inazuma eleven #au #darkest days au

11 notes · View notes

darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts · 4 years

Text

Non-Valentine Valentine

An AK short for the season I hope you all like a bit of fluff.

Warnings: Soft Kitsune, a worrying warlord and a reluctant princess

Masterlist

---

Non-Valentine Valentine

It was a cold wind that blew through the castle town. Birds were singing, flowers were trying to bud and the townspeople were busy in preparations for yet another successful day with the market.

Everything was peaceful…

“Princess! Aerion… wait!” An all to familiar voice rang out in the castle as the man attached to it rushed to the wooden walkway that led to the gardens following hot on the heels of the reluctant Princess.

“Why? So you can shoehorn me into that outfit? No way!” Aerion called out over her shoulder as she dropped down on to the gravel, minus her shoes, and ran in nothing but socks towards the gate.

Almost everything was peaceful.

The people in the market glanced towards the gates as the Princess burst free of its shadow. One pair, in particular, watched as she ran towards the lake.

“Wasn’t that Aerion?” Yukimura stood up frowning slightly in the direction of the noise.

“Looks like it.”

“Damn girl really is like a wild animal.” Yukimura shrugged and went back to laying out the trinkets Shingen had sent him to sell mumbling complaints about girly things being annoying. Sasuke continued to stand there for a moment watching as his friend disappeared further into the distance, and the figure following in her footsteps.

---

The sunlight was blinding as it played around on the surface of the water. She had to squint and hold her hand up just to try to focus on the fishermen and boats in the distance. Aerion sighed as she moved along the shore and found a slightly sheltered place to sit. She dragged her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees as she watched the birds floating on the water.

Nobunaga was expecting a visit from some traders and Hideyoshi had suggested that she join the meeting and support Nobu in his attempts to secure supplies. She had no issues with that as a general rule of thumb but there was something wrong with the requirement that she put on fancy-dress costumes that didn’t allow her to breathe in order to just sit there like a statue and have some random sailor ogle her.

“I wish I could be a bird…” She muttered lost in thought.

“Well, now there is an idea. What an interesting imagination you have my dear. Do tell me how you expect to succeed with such an plan when you cannot even remember to put on shoes.”

She nearly jumped out of her skin as she turned and saw a white figure standing behind her leaning against a tree in the shade. His smile was mocking but the warmth in his eyes was as bright as the sun on the lake.

“I might have known it was you. How do you always find me anyway?” Aerion shrugged and turned back to resting her chin on her knees watching the birds on the lake. Mitsuhide came closer and sat next to her a fabric bundle in his hand.

“That would be a secret Princess.” He chuckled softly stealing a sideways glance at the small female. Her feet were once more so muddy it was difficult to tell if she even had tabi on. Her hair was partly pinned up and falling down. He reached his long fingers up and teased some of her tangled hair free of the pins and began to comb his fingers through it. “Let me guess Hideyoshi was the reason for your sudden departure from the castle?”

“Isn’t he usually?” Aerion sighed and relaxed as the pressure on her head vanished. She really did fail to see the point in all this fuss. What was so wrong with just dragging your hair up into a side ponytail anyway? She became aware of a change in sensation and realised Mitsuhide had produced a comb from somewhere. “You brought a comb?!”

“I learnt when it comes to you little one that I should be prepared for most things.” His smile softened as he watched the teeth of the comb glide through the soft as silk hair in his hands. He had long since given up on the idea of denying the fact that her hair was something that pleased him. He still couldn’t quite place the feelings in himself when it came to mind that someone else had tried to tame the unruly locks, even less when it was another man. For the time being, he would play it safe and push aside those unhelpful flights of curiosity and focus on the way her hair tumbled through his hands.

“Hard to imagine you not being prepared for anything Mitsuhide.” Aerion spoke again turning away from him. He wanted her to look at him again.

“Mm, well there are times when a certain Princess goes beyond even my expectations.” He grinned knowing his teasing would draw her eye back to him.

“Hey! That’s just a fancy way of calling me difficult!” She exclaimed as she batted his arm playfully.

“And no less cute for it.” His voice was softer with no edge or tease to it. Her blue eyes remained locked on his wavering a little.

“That joke is in poor taste even for you.” Aerion huffed a little like a child which only caused him to bark out in amusement.

“Agreed. If it were a joke that is.” He didn’t miss the rosy shade her face had taken and took a little delight in knowing he was the cause. “Now little girls really shouldn’t go running around outside in bare feet.” He put the comb away in his sleeve again and made a poor show at acting scandalised.

“I don’t have bare feet I got socks on. See?” She lifted the hem of her Hakama enough to wiggle a foot at him.

“Poor dear Hideyoshi. I fear he will collapse at the sight of those.” Contrary to his words Mitsuhide was doing admirably poorly at masking his delight at the idea of the castle’s mother hen going insane over laundry. Picking up the fabric parcel he had been carrying he handed it over to the Princess.

“What’s this?” The knot was fairly tight and took a little effort to work it free. “Mitsuhide since when do you carry around sandals and socks?” Aerion could feel her jaw drop at the sight of a pair of fresh white tabi and some geta with low teeth on the soles.

“As I said before my dear it pays to be prepared when it comes to you.” From watching her practice with Hideyoshi as he instructed her in behaving like a real Princess he chose a pair that would at least allow her to walk without major risk of falling over.

“…. I’m surrounded by men trying to dress me up or treat me like a doll.” Aerion grumbled. Seriously if it wasn’t Masamune trying to feed her or Ieyasu handing her some sort of medicine complaining she was too soft to survive without it. Hideyoshi was trying to wrap her in so much silk she could be a Daruma doll and it felt like someone was always trying to gift her things.

“You are mistaken, my dear. This is not a desire to dress you up. Merely a means to prevent your feet from becoming injured.” Mitsuhide slipped the geta on her feet and then held out his hands to her so he could pull her up to standing. “Now then. It is rather late and I doubt you stopped at all in your escape to have lunch.”

“You’re going to feed me?” Her eyes sparkled with the idea of food. It was not something he could really say he understood but he could enjoy her expressions all the same.

“My my now you’re not so much a doll as a lost puppy.”

“Oh, shut up!”

---

The place he took her too was just off the main road in town. They had ducked under the fabric covering the door and instantly were transported into a world where the air was filled with warmth and mouth-watering smells.

“Is this your usual place?” She asked as she took a seat at the counter next to him.

“There are many shops in town, I frequent a few. This I discovered recently and thought you might enjoy it.”

“Oh? Well, now I really am curious.” Aerion looked over to the small window that showed the kitchen. A man with his sleeves tied back was standing in front of a pan that looked like it was hot as larva. He picked up things from a plate that seemed to be dripped and plopped them in causing the pan to crack and sizzle.

It took a few minutes but eventually, a platter covered in what looked like a battered and fried jigsaw was placed between them.

“Tempura?” Aerion marvelled at the unexpected golden clusters.

“You’ve had it before? It’s relatively new.” Mitsuhide masked the crestfallen feeling he had as his stomach suddenly felt like a cavern had opened up inside him.

“Oh? No, I mean I’ve heard of it but not really eaten it.” Aerion backpedalled. She had naturally eaten it before but attempting to explain time travel was just going to complicate things. Plus if she were completely honest she wasn’t certain she could explain wormholes even with guided notes from Sasuke. “What have we got here?” She picked up her chopsticks and tried rather clumsily to pick up a small piece.

“A mix of vegetables, fish and meat. The soy sauce is brought in from the same province as the sake.” Mitsuhide took on the role of a teacher as he explained more. Suddenly Aerion vanished and he couldn’t help but think that was rather a good trick for one to pull in front of him. Before he could look for her or call out someone else did.

“Mitsuhide?”

“Hideyoshi. And just when I was enjoying my food.” Mitsuhide turned to greet the approaching Warlord flashing his trademark smile.

“You never enjoy food.” Hideyoshi ended whatever might have been of Mitsuhide’s planned teasing whilst looking dubiously at the platter far too large for one person.

“Forthright as ever. What brings you here? Don’t tell me the castle staff have gone on strike after being told to prepare a feast for the guest?” Unwilling to give up their accustomed game of trading jibes Mitsuhide persisted so as to distract from what Hideyoshi might question next. Namely the portion control for the establishment.

“What? No of course not. I –” On cue Hideyoshi began to blunder his way through spoken language.

“Lost the Princess again?” As he said this Mitsuhide felt something touch his ankle.

“If you know then why ask? Have you seen her?” Hideyoshi pressed closer as if sharing a secret which caused the grip on Mitsuhide’s ankle to tighten.

“A Princess? I’ve seen a few…”

“I’m not asking about your trip to see the ladies at court I am looking for Aerion. She bolted like a rabbit from the castle earlier and I haven’t been able to track her down since.” Seemingly taken that Mitsuhide was being his usual difficult self Hideyoshi sighed and absentmindedly looked around the shop.

“How unfortunate. No, I haven’t seen her, I did have a mind to look for her myself later.” Mitsuhide’s smile became wider as he was now keenly aware that he had two targets at his mercy. And the one under the table had claws currently digging into his lower leg.

“And what did you have planned? You know she is Lord Nobunaga’s favourite. I won’t let you—”

“Oh relax. Why don’t you try some tempura?” Mitsuhide graciously indicated the stool next to himself. He didn’t imagine the small barely audible gasp as he shifted it slightly with one hand.

“Thanks, but I really should find her before it gets too dark and cold.” Hideyoshi declined and looked anxiously out the window at what he could see of the sky from this angle.

“You might try some of the stalls in town. A few traders have returned and I do know she is rather fond of their wares.” Mitsuhide picked up a piece of battered fish with his chopsticks and dipped it lightly with some soy before filling his mouth. He really couldn’t get the flavour but this texture was exquisite.

“Yeah, I’ll do that. Oh, and Mitsuhide?” Hideyoshi paused before leaving. “If you find her before I do…”

“I’ll be sure to bring the Princess back to the castle.” Mitsuhide gave a noncommittal wave without really looking at the other man. Five beats later and Aerion appeared at his elbow again.

“You enjoyed that far too much.” She grumbled looking adorably flustered.

“You wound me little one. You were after all the one to pull a vanishing act during dinner.” Mitsuhide brought both his hands up to his head cradling it as if in pain.

“You rather Hideyoshi caught me and joined us for real?” Aerion leant over and swiped the cup of sake from in front of the main cause for her desire for a strong drink.

“Certainly not. I make a point of avoiding conflict during dinner, does absolutely nothing for the digestion.” With a cheeky grin he dropped his hands and retrieved his chopsticks once more. “Come on now eat up I have to walk you home.”

---

When Aerion came back to her room there was a note left on her futon. She recognised the scrawling sand script anywhere.

I’m glad you managed to find your smile again. I’ll be gone for a week.

Talk soon. Sasuke p.s. Happy Valentine’s Day

“It’s Valentine’s day!?” Aerion let out a cry as she let that bit of information register. She looked at the postscript several times before falling to her futon and looking across the room at the pair of sandals she had carried in with her. “Shoes and a meal. I might not have known the date but I don’t think I’ve had a Valentine’s in years that went this well.”

Not bothering to get undressed she lay back, snuffed out the lamp and closed her eyes. Within minutes she was out like a light.

---

Mitsuhide stood in silent observation secreted nicely in the gardens away from prying eyes as he watched the light dance in the Princess’s room. He smiled as he saw the shadows move knowing she was back safe. She had insisted on walking herself in and almost as soon as she said that he found a desire to stop that from happening. As with most of his recently discovered desires though however, he suppressed it and simply said “Goodnight Princess.”

Today had been eventful and he had enjoyed himself far more than he thought he should be allowed to. As the lamp was snuffed out in her room, he found his mind drift back to her by the shore. That hair like spun moonlight as it fell through his fingers. He picked his way through the grounds before leaving to return to his manor.

“Sweet dreams… Aerion.” With one last fond look back, his ghostly figure melted into the town and vanished.

50 notes · View notes

kohanayaki · 5 years

Text

Caught in the Middle (Steve Harrington x Reader x Billy Hargrove) Ch 7

Links: Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7

______________________________________________________

Ch 7 .:Conflicted:.

Your expression was blank as you slowly walked in the general direction of your house, kicking a small pebble across the dirt road. It wasn't really a rational plan to just walk home. Hawkins was small, but you lived on the other side of town, and it would be way past sunset before you even made it to your neighborhood on foot.

As the sounds of people talking around you grew louder you looked up as you were crossing near town square to see the lights of Starcourt Mall, brighter than ever. You bit your lip as you looked around you, trying to avoid seeing anyone from school. Suddenly, your eyes drifted to the main part of the mall, landing on that same blue and striped striped sign you'd noticed your first day back in Hawkins.

You knew Steve would be there, but you were out of options at this point. Quickly deciding the possible payoff was worth the risk, you found yourself swinging open the door to Scoops Ahoy, the bell on the door frame ringing out as you did.

As soon as Steve saw you walk in he was worried. Your eyes were red from crying and devoid of that little sparkle that always seemed present in them. Your shoes were covered in dust from your trek over here, and you knew you probably looked just as shitty as you felt.

“(Y/n)? What's wrong?” Steve asked, his brows knitting together.

“It's fine,” you said, “Just. . . can I use your guys' phone? It'll be quick, I promise.”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve said, “It's in the back.”

You thanked him quietly and pushed open the door to the storage and break room, leaving Steve and Robin alone in the front.

As soon as you disappeared Robin leaned in to whisper to Steve.

“This is your chance, dingus.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Steve's eyes widened.

“Oh come on, don't act like you haven't been obsessed with her since she got back here,” Robin said, rolling her eyes. Steve's face flushed red.

“ 'Obsessed' is not the right word,” he grumbled.

“Sure,” Robin said, unconvinced, “In any case, you need to make your move right now or you're screwed.”

“I'm already screwed, Robin,” Steve said, “She'd with Billy now, for some reason. . .” he said that last part under his breath, and Robin bit back a chuckle as he did.

“Listen, it's not too late. I'll bet you five dollars she's upset because something happened with Billy.”

“Five?” Steve said, a brow raising, “You're on. And you know why? Because they were in their own little universe of gag inducing cuddles this morning. He would have to seriously fuck up to make her cry.”

“And you think he's incapable of that?” Robin scoffed.

Steve went silent for a moment, but he didn't exactly get the chance to think too deeply as you came out from the backroom.

Once again you had dialed your home phone and once again you wanted to slam your head into the wall when it went straight to voice message.

“Thanks,” you said, getting ready to leave and make the long walk back home.

“Uh, wait!” Steve said, a little too fast.

“Yeah?” You turned around to look at him.

“It's just. . . look,” Steve took a deep breath before he spoke, “I know something's wrong even if you say it isn't, and you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But I'm your friend and I hate seeing you sad, so if there's someone I need to beat the shit out of, please tell me.”

As you stared at him you looked for any sign of insincerity in his dark eyes but found none. And just like that your walls started crumbling. You felt tears start to well up in your eyes again, and you stifled a sob as they spilled over.

Steve started to panic as he saw you cry, but when you pulled him in for a hug he felt the tension leave his shoulders. He gingerly wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head. He inhaled the faint scent of your shampoo, stroking your hair gently as you cried into his chest. Your bodies seemed to fit perfectly together, and Steve wondered if you could feel it too. Everything about this just felt. . . right.

“Something happened with Billy,” you admitted, wiping away your tears.

Robin smirked at Steve from behind you, mouthing 'I told you' before pulling five dollar bills from Steve's tip jar.

Steve rolled his eyes, pulling his focus back to you.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“It's kind of a long story,” you mumbled.

“We got all night,” Steve said. Suddenly an idea popped into his head, “Oh, wait, I have just the thing!”

Before you could protest you were being lead into one of the booths while Steve started scooping ice cream into a large bowl. He topped it with whipped cream, caramel sauce, hot fudge, and a cherry before setting it down on the table and sliding into the booth next to you.

“The USS Butterscotch Supreme,” he grinned proudly, producing two spoons from his apron pocket, “And don't even think about saying 'I can't' because it's on me.”

A small laugh escaped you and Steve's smile grew just a little wider.

“I think this is just an excuse for you to eat free ice cream from your own store,” you said.

“You caught me,” Steve said, scooping a spoonful of fudge into his mouth, “Now what happened?”

You told him everything- how Billy kissed you in your bedroom weeks ago and was sort of seeing you in secret since then, how you heard Tommy, Carol, and him talking in the hallway, and how you were basically left stranded after your fight since he'd given you a ride that morning.

“Hold on, you walked all the way here from school?” Steve asked, surprised.

“Yep,” you sighed, shoving another spoonful of the sundae into your mouth, “That's why I asked to use your phone, so I could call for a ride. I gave my stupid brother the keys and now he won't pick up the home phone so he's probably still out. I'm not sure if I should be mad that he didn't take the car straight home or worried that he might be out committing arson somewhere.”

“Probably both,” Steve laughed.

After a few moments of eating ice cream in silence Steve set his spoon down.

“God, I seriously want to punch Billy in his stupid face right now,” he said.

“Yeah, me too. But the worst part is that I still really like him,” You chuckled weakly as you picked at the cherry on top of the sundae, “Pretty pathetic, huh?”

“I mean, your words, not mine,” Steve said playfully.

You shook your head, laughing as you took your last bite of ice cream.

Steve was angry, that much went without saying. Billy had always pissed him off, but hearing that he hurt you? Steve was livid. The fact that Billy, the rudimentary asshole, had somehow ended up with you made him think that maybe karma wasn't a real thing after all. But not only did Billy manage to steal your heart, he threw it away in an instant, and that made Steve more mad than anything. If he ever got the chance to be with you he'd never want to let you go, much less disrespect you and say shit behind your back just to impress his stupid friends. But he forced all of his emotions down for your sake. He knew you wouldn't want someone starting a fight on your behalf, it's not the kind of person you were. You handled your own problems, sometimes to fault, but your tenacity and resilience were some of the many things he liked about you.

“I should probably get going soon,” you sighed, snapping him out of his thoughts, “I've still got a long walk ahead of me.”

Steve looked at you like you'd just grown a second head.

“I can give you a ride,” he said as if it was obvious.

“Really?”

“Of course,” Steve said, “You think I'd make you walk home in the dark? I'm not that much of an asshole. . . anymore.” he grinned as he nudged your shoulder.

Steve caught sight of movement in his peripheral vision and saw Robin waving her arms around behind you. As you leaned over to grab your backpack Steve mouthed 'What?' Robin rolled her eyes, pointing to you and making a 'go on' gesture with her hands.

“Um, hey,” Steve said suddenly.

“Hi?” you chuckled.

“Do you want to go see a movie?” he asked.

Robin face palmed hard and you turned at the sound, only to see her whistling and leaning ever so casually on the counter when you did.

“N-not like, right now,” Steve stuttered out, “Obviously, that's crazy. You probably have things to do when you get home. I meant, like, later. Any time you’re not busy if you even want to-“

“I'm free for the rest of the night,” you said, cutting his rambling off, “And I'd love to.”

Steve's heart pounded in his chest as you agreed and he had to mentally slap himself to get out of his head.

'This isn't a date,' he told himself, 'She just broke up with Billy, don't be a douchebag.'

“I, uh, kind of don't have money right now, though,” you admitted, bringing Steve back to reality.

“Don't worry about it,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips, “Neither do I.”

He lead you by the hand to the back room and looked over his shoulder before unlocking the panel on the wall that lead to the storage passage.

“After you,” he grinned.

You couldn't believe it, you could see the lights of the movie theater flickering underneath the door at the end of the hallway.

“Didn't think you were one to break company policy,” you snickered.

“Hey, I can be bad sometimes,” he said, biting the inside of his cheek immediately after. Did he really just say that? Luckily for him you just laughed before starting to head down the hall.

“I'll catch up with you,” Steve said, “Just give me a second.”

He turned to Robin and panicked slightly.

“I'm so sorry, I didn't even think about my shift-”

“I'll cover you,” Robin said, “This is the first girl in a while that's actually made you feel something. It's written all over your face, lover boy. So go get her.”

Steve's eyes twinkled with silent thanks as he bounded down the hall after you.

“Don't embarrass yourself too much!” Robin called after him.

As she watched Steve's back disappear into the theater she smiled to herself, taking out her whiteboard and placing the very first tally under “You rule”.

Steve found you situated in the center of the back row, and he slid into the seat beside you.

“What'd I miss?” he asked.

“The main character's trying to bang his mom,” you said. Steve nearly choked on his spit and you laughed at his expression.

“He went back in time and met his mom when she was his age,” you explained, “Now he's trying to go back to his time.”

“Wait, I thought the movie was called Back to the Future,” Steve said in confusion.

“Well yeah,” you said, “He's trying to go back to the future because since he's in the past the 'future' is technically the present which is his time.”

Steve just looked at you, and you could practically see the gears struggling to turn in his head.

“Okay, it's official- You're way smarter than me,” he said.

“You're just now noticing?” you grinned.

“You're mean,” he said with a fake pout.

You both laughed, much to the chagrin of the viewers around you. Throughout the movie Steve would give the occasional useless but funny commentary. You actually ended up having a really nice time. This wasn't like the banter between you and Billy. With Steve everything was lighter- he was more carefree and loved making you laugh. You looked over to him at your side and smiled slightly. He was watching the movie with child like enthusiasm, that dumb little grin on his face illuminated only by the screen.

Never in a million years did you imagine you'd be at a movie with Steve Harrington, especially not tonight. If Billy wasn't such an ass today you would've gone to that record shop across the street, making out in his car and getting some greasy diner food after. You bit your lip slightly. You didn't want to think about that right now.

Nonetheless you had an amazing time, and it was just what you needed to take your mind off things. Your day had been a hell of an emotional roller coaster, and as Steve pulled up to your house you couldn't wait to go to sleep.

He got out of the driver's seat, opening your door for you.

“Such a gentleman,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Well you know me,” he chuckled.

As you reached your front door you turned to him, hands in your pockets.

“Thank you for tonight, Steve. Really,” you said, “We should do that again sometime.”

“Yeah,” he said, suddenly finding the doormat really interesting.

Neither of you noticed how close you were until that moment. You could smell the warm caramel on his breath from the ice cream you two had shared, and your breath hitched as his face inched closer to yours. Before you could register what was happening Steve pressed his lips softly to yours. It seemed to last for an eternity but in reality it was no more than a second, because you both seemed to realize what you were doing at the same time.

You quickly pulled away from each other and Steve immediately felt guilty.

“Sorry,” he said quietly.

“It's fine,” you said at an equal volume, your head spinning.

“I should go,” Steve said, turning around.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

Part of Steve wanted you to ask him to stay, but he knew that was just a fleeting thought as the sound of your door closing echoed almost tauntingly in the night air.

Steve felt like shit. What the hell was he thinking? You told him you still had feelings for Billy and he goes and kisses you just a few hours later?

“God I'm such an idiot,” he groaned, kicking the tire of his car before climbing in and driving away.

You heard everything go quiet as he left, and as you lay in bed staring at the ceiling with millions of thoughts swirling through your head, you knew you wouldn't be getting any sleep that night.

_________________________________________________________

When you walked into school the next day you could feel the eyes on you. News spread fast at Hawkins High, and unfortunately your love life was no exception. You tried to keep your head low and get to your first period as quickly as possible. Of course, the universe wouldn't let you be so lucky.

“(Y/n), I need to talk to you, please,” Steve said, running up to you. Kyle gave him a dirty look and he backed away slightly. “Look I shouldn't have-”

“Steve, please don't take this the wrong way, but I really don't want to talk to anyone right now,” you said, picking up your pace and wishing you had the ability to just teleport to your first period.

“Well if it isn’t the Hawkins whore,” Tommy grinned, walking up to you. Carol was glued to his side as usual and Billy was right there with them, unable to meet your eyes.

'Great,' you thought. Couldn't you catch a break?

“Just ignore them,” Kyle said, gritting his teeth as he pulled you away and continuing to walk.

“Two hours after Billy and you go running to Harrington, huh?” Tommy continued, “Gotta say, I always knew you were a bitch but I never took you for a slut. Guess looks can be deceiving.”

Steve's fists balled at his sides as Tommy said that, about to defend you when you spoke up for yourself.

“Does it really matter?” you spun around, eyeing at Billy who was still looking anywhere but at you, “It was nothing serious, right?”

As you quoted Billy's words he winced slightly and it gave you a bit of satisfaction to know he at least felt half as shitty as you.

“That doesn't change anything, slut,” Carol glared with an annoying pop of her gum.

“That's rich coming from you,” you snapped, “Don’t you have a football team to milk somewhere else?”

“That's it,” Tommy growled, slamming you into the lockers by the lapels of you jacket. You grunted as the hard metal made contact with your back.

“Get off of her!” Kyle shouted, grabbing his arm. Tommy just scoffed, twisting around to sock your brother in the stomach. He gasped as the wind was knocked out of him and he stumbled to the floor.

You shoved Tommy off of you while he was off balance, running to your brother.

“Ouch,” Kyle chuckled weakly.

“You idiot, why did you do that?” you said, your eyes full of worry.

“You've always been the one protecting me,” he said, “I don't know, I just thought I'd try to do that for you. Guess it backfired.”

Even when he just got punched your brother always managed to crack a joke. You smiled down at him, but the moment was broken by Tommy's laughter.

“Aw, isn't that sweet?” he mocked, the rest of his group laughing along expect for Billy who didn't say a word.

You felt red hot anger start to burn in your chest as you turned around to face Tommy. Everyone went silent when they saw your expression. No one in the school had ever seen you that mad before.

“Listen to me, you sorry sack of shit,” you said, your voice deathly calm, “Don't you ever touch my brother again, you understand me?”

“Or what?” Tommy smirked, getting in your face.

You grit your teeth so hard you thought they'd break, your nails breaking threads in the cuffs of your jacket.

“He's not worth it,” Kyle said, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You sighed through your nose, taking a deep breath.

“Yeah,” you said, “I know.”

You turned around with your brother, starting to walk away. But Tommy wasn't going to let it end there.

“Yeah that’s what I thought!” he taunted loudly, following your pace down the hall, “Just run away like you always did! You’re all bark and no bite, (L/n). You’d never have the guts to-”

CRACK!

You whipped around, slamming your fist right into Tommy's face.

He howled in pain, recoiling as he held his bleeding nose.

“You bitch!” he snarled, charging at you. Your eyes narrowed as you stepped to the side, letting him run into the lockers, following up with a knee to his gut. It was like instinct took over you, and you hated it. This was the part of you that you wanted to leave behind, but in the moment you couldn't be bothered to care.

Before you knew it there were teachers out in the hallway, pulling you two away from each other. Well, more like pulling you away from him. It was a fairly one-sided encounter.

“What the hell is going on here?” the principal asked, his arms crossed.

“She just punched me!” Tommy said, playing victim.

“He hit my brother,” you countered.

“Now, miss (L/n), violence isn't always the answer,” the principal said in his usual condescending tone that drove you crazy, “If you really did punch him first you have to be held accountable. Besides, even if he hit you first, you should never respond by hitting back.”

“So I'm just supposed to sit there and let someone beat the shit out of me?” you said incredulously.

“Miss (L/n)!” the principal gasped at your language.

You scoffed, pulling away from the science teacher's weak hold and heading towards the door.

“I don't have to listen to this bullshit,” you said, digging for your keys in your bag, “I already know I'm suspended,” you called over your shoulder, “And don't bother calling the house, because when my dad finds out what really happened he'll go ballistic on your asses.”

You ignored the protesting shouts of the faculty and the sound of Steve and Billy calling your name as you got into your car and headed towards the nearest gas station. You needed a smoke, and it wasn't as if it'd be your first relapse of bad choices in the last few weeks.

You ended up a mile north at a 7-11 just outside the Hawkin's county line where you knew you could get a package for free. You haphazardly parked your car outside and walked into the store, heading over to the cashier.

“(Y/n) is that you? Holy shit!” the boy at the register smiled widely.

“Yeah,” you said, giving him a tight-lipped smile, “It's good to see you, Jason.”

“You know it's on me. Need a light?” he asked, already getting you a pack of Marlboros from behind the counter.

“Yeah, thanks,” you said.

As you started tearing the plastic off of the box you spotted a rough-looking figure in the back of the store, grumbling to himself. His clothes were charred, somehow, and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. Your brows knit together as you recognized who it was.

“Hopper?”

Read chapter 8 here !

Taglist: @in-my-dreams-2000 @ggclarissa @iris1697 @5sosxgrethan @ohnoniella @sarcasticalphaofthelooserspack @aspiring-fangirls-world @wow-im-so-tired @hopesxxhigh @justanothercrazyassfangirl @too-many-lanes @whimsylavender @bish-ima-clown @amarachoren @mosiacbrokenheartstf @mcuvlxgs @xapham @metuel18 @immirandaq @nellaphine @multi-madison @gingertalksshit @jojo-buttercup @kyberhearts @mvdelaine @minnie-marvel @caitlin-rose28 @zandaleekrz @r3inventedd @void-fire-rose @macymafia @wanna-be-idle @newtsshelbys @kimmydespell @weyheyokay @r4ttusr4ttus @cynthianokamaria @spookyartisanmuffineggs @youcanstandundermyamberella @ashadowoftheforest @shrektiledysfunction @arithatonegirl @banannie25 @daddyuwuss @truthdaze @supervoldejaygent @gigi-maria-argu @dolan-mendes

#stranger things x reader #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #billy hargove x reader #Billy Hargrove #stranger things season 3 #reader insert #x reader #love triangle #jim hopper #will byers #Lucas Sinclair #mike wheeler #dustin henderson #original characters #alexei #alexei smirnoff

274 notes · View notes

nate-santos · 4 years

Text

O, Death || Nate & Morgan

@mor-beck-more-problems

Nate gets his tarot read! Nothing bad happens!

Nate had never had any sort of psychic reading done before, and while most might think the whole practice was fake or silly, he wasn’t so sure. At this point, Nate had seen enough to know that pretty much anything was possible, even the ability for someone to read his future with a few pieces of cardboard. He was overwhelmed with nerves all evening as he ran around his house making sure it didn’t look like it was entirely in disrepair. Sure, he’d just gone through some flooding and he’d never really made the interior feel like home aside from towers of take out boxes, but Morgan didn’t need to know that he lived such a sad life. Not that she wouldn’t be able to tell just by reading his future...god, was all this stuff really real? He paced the familiar path next to his front door as he waited for Morgan to arrive, jumping into action probably quicker than he really should when her knock finally came. “Hi! Hey! Welcome! Sorry- I’m uh...a little nervous...Would you like to come in?”

Morgan felt bad for how easily Nate fell off her radar. He’d admitted he was a zombie to her, over the internet, and he was always on the town social media checking in on things or saying nice things about other people. And somehow he was willing to pay her twenty bucks to hang out and give him a tarot reading despite knowing divination wasn’t her magic department. If she hadn’t needed the money so bad, she would’ve taken back the idea of compensation to get some good energy going in her favor. “Hey!” She said brightly. “Love to!” She stepped inside and--wow. Maybe the reason Nate was so nice for the same reason she tried to be: his existence away from the rest of the world was so...sad. “This is...great! Did you build the whole place yourself? It’s enormous.” She asked, tiptoeing around the takeout. It was nice, or it could be nice, if he knew how to give it a little love. She wandered to the back of the main room and looked out the windows. Trees on all sides and the brightest view of the night sky and the waxing moon. Nate would have made a good warlock, she decided.

Nate ran a hand through his hair, nervously looking for something to occupy his antsy fingers as Morgan looked around his sparse living space. He had been so proud of the design, and looking over the space now, he felt an overwhelming surge of guilt at how he was treating his “dream” home. This was supposed to be he and Mari’s forever house and he had only decorated it with take out boxes and safety proofing equipment. It was so pathetic when he looked at it through the lens of someone else. “Y-yeah! I designed it myself...I wanted to have a nice view and stuff...it was uh...planned for a while. Didn’t think I’d build it in this town but- well…” He trailed off, his eyes falling to his feet. “So uh...where are we supposed to do this? Do you need candles or something? ‘Cause I don’t think I have any...fire hazard and all that.”

“Well you definitely got the view down with these windows. And this deck!” Morgan exclaimed. She swiveled back over to him. “I brought the atmospheric candles, don’t worry. And your homeopath-tastic cleanser of choice. You seem like you might be a cedar and juniper kind of guy, but I also have lavender if you want to have a softer mood. And we can do it anywhere!” Immediately after she said this, however, she had a distinct feeling that no amount of magic, real or otherwise, would make this living room the kind of space where you would feel cozy hashing out your feelings. “But, since you’re asking, I would love to spend some time on your porch! It’s so nice out, it’d be a shame not to, right?”

Nate smiled lightly at Morgan’s positivity. The whole experience made him nervous, but then again, most things made him nervous. But she had an optimism to her that made Nate remember what it was like to feel happy, even if his nerves were overtaking him. “Oh uh...I’m not sure? I don’t really know what any of those smells...do? But I think uh...softer might be...ideal?” Nate kicked at the toes of his shoes, unsure what to do with himself. “Outside? Uh- yeah, sure!” Nate glanced out the window, noting the bright sky, the nearly full moon reflecting on the river. It did look peaceful, almost like it wasn’t the back yard of a man who would become a monster once he died. Nate grabbed a few blankets and led the way out to the porch, plugging in the few strands of twinkle lights he’d installed and rarely ever used. “Is this ok? Or should I turn them off? I’m- I’m sorry, I’m a little nervous…”

Morgan beamed at Nate, nervous about everything, even a little aromatherapy. But, yep, in spite of his lumberjack figure, Nate was as soft as a flower petal inside. If she’d met him in person before, she probably wouldn’t have bothered with the cedar in the first place. “Lavender is perfect,” she said.

Somehow she ended up leading the way to the porch and setting out space for them. Blanket, candles, lavender. “Are you kidding? The lights are perfect! You need to have people over more often, you could throw some amazing parties!” But, that was probably not going to happen anytime soon, if they were being realistic. Morgan took her seat on one end and gestured for Nate to take the spot opposite. When he was ready, she passed him the deck, “So, what do you want to know about your life right now, Nate?”

Nate chuckled. As if he even knew enough people to have a party at his place. Even though he’d originally designed it for entertaining, without Mari around, it just felt...empty. All the time. And that was fine. Sometimes Nate thought maybe he liked the sadness it brought. It was like a penance for not being there to save her. As if being bitten by a zombie wasn’t bad enough. “I uh- yeah...maybe when it gets warmer out,” he hedged. The view overlooking the river would be the perfect backdrop for a backyard BBQ, complete with neighborhood kids running around and his friends laughing over a beer. Nate shooks the thought out of his head. He settled in, focusing back to the present. “I-” he paused, wringing his hands in his lap. “Will I die soon?”

“Nate! Your whole future isn’t written in stone! And there’s nothing in you that could have the answer for that besides your own fear. Ask something that acknowledges that you have some agency over yourself. Fate--” Morgan hesitated. Fate, as far as she could tell from Deirdre, was a real and terrifying bitch. Fate wanted you for life, sometimes. But Fate couldn’t possibly have her hands in everything. There was too much universe and too much magic for her to steal Nate’s potential on the mortal plane or her fucked up family curse. Right? “Fate doesn’t have every card in the deck. You have some power, right now, to choose how your life takes shape. Doesn’t it matter how? Isn’t there anything you want to make sure happens before the end?”

Nate stared at his hands, falling silent for a long while. He wasn’t sure that he did have agency over when he was going to die. He liked to think he did, and he sure did try hard to make sure it wasn’t any time soon, but at the end of the day, he would still become a monster when it happened. For all his research and all his attempts, there was still nothing he could do to change that. He racked his brain trying to think of an easier question, perhaps something that might even ease his mind, if only for a moment. “Ok...ok…” Nate crossed his legs and sucked in a long breath. “Will I...find peace? Before the end?”

“There you go,” Morgan said. “How will you? What do you need, right now, in order to find peace at the end? She took the cards up and gave them a shuffle, thinking of Nate all the while, and laid them out in an arc facing him. The fireflies buzzed gently in the air, looping their peaceful infinities. They buzzed near Morgan’s neck and dipped across Nate’s vision. She hoped, for his sake, the pull of life to him was a good sign. Okay, thinking about what you need, right now, to find your peace, draw a card.”

Truly, Nate wasn’t sure what it was that would bring him peace. Seeing Mari one last time? A guarantee than once he died, he wouldn’t wake up and murder the first person he saw, consuming their brains? Knowledge that there was a real cure to what he was? He closed his eyes for a moment, centering himself as much as possible. He resisted the urge to swat at the fireflies, knowing they weren’t poisonous, before reaching out to pull his first card. Flipping it over, his stomach knotted, unsure what it meant. “Is that...good?”

The card was Death. Poor Nate, Morgan thought with a sigh. It was good, insofar as anything was good, but it sure would’ve been helpful if the cards had been less...aggressive. “So, you may not believe it, but yes. This isn’t about literal dying, it’s about letting go. Letting something that’s tired, broken, and no longer helping you...die. And out of that passing, finding space for something new to take shape.” She gave Nate the most encouraging smile she could muster. “Sometimes death is something that is, something that fits into the balance of everything. This Death, it only comes for you when it’s really time. When the bones your dragging are ready to be laid to rest. Especially when those bones are old stories you’re used to telling yourself that just don’t do what they’re supposed to anymore. Am I making any sense?”

Nate wasn’t familiar with tarot cards or their meanings, but a card that literally reads DEATH couldn’t be good. He could feel the familiar wave of panic cresting over him and his hands gripped his chair. “Y-you sure? It’s- literally...it’s death!” Nate rocked slowly, trying to calm himself. Death and rebirth. Death of things he’s been carrying around. Death of his fear of dying? Did that even make sense? Nate wrapped his arms around himself and looked up at Morgan. “Is- there another...would the next card maybe...be better?”

“Nate, please don’t freak out,” Morgan urged gently. “Death can be--” She hesitated, wondering for a moment if there wasn’t something in the cardstock after all that knew she was here and taking a two-way jab. “--Even real death doesn’t have to be a bad thing. It can just be. Or be a gift. I don’t know how exactly, I just heard it from someone who’d seen a lot of it and that’s not what this is about anyway, I want to emphasize that--but it’s possible. And if even real death can be a gift, then letting go of this something in you can be a gift too. It just wants you to let go. As gently as you can. And it’ll be caught, and so will the rest of you. You won’t fall when you let go. This Death will catch you and the whole world will open up.” She smiled sadly at him, and decided not to question who she was more sorry for in that moment. “But, you should definitely draw another card!” She said, straightening herself up with cheer. “Three card pulls are nice and easy.”

Nate drew.

“Ooh! Look how strong he is, right? This is what you’re really aiming for, what’s waiting for you after you’re caught! The Hierophant is a master teacher. He’s got all the rules, the knowledge, usually in some kind of organized structure? And, as counter-intuitive as it might seem, you could actually move closer to finding that kind of firm, organized knowledge if you let go. Or maybe there’s someone you know like this already, and they want to help you! It doesn’t have to be a man, I should probably mention that. All these energies are around and in us. It’s what they’re offering you that’s important. Is that--does that--make you feel any better?”

Nate struggled to calm his breathing, squeezing his eyes shut before managing to suck in a few deeper breaths, forcing serenity into his body. He was afraid to open them, to see the next card that could destroy his future. But what was he gonna do? Chicken out? Pretend like any of this wasn’t real? Maybe...maybe he would get caught. Maybe Morgan was right. Maybe death wasn’t the death he thought. Nate slowly opened his eyes and stared down at the cards, flipping the next. Morgan’s reaction was all he needed to feel the smallest bit better. “Y-yeah,” he started, feeling one of the zillions of stress knots in his stomach start to loosen. But as was always the way with Nate’s luck, a shadowy figure sent him straight into another panic. “But...uh, M-Morgan? Were you uh...expecting anyone else?” His eyes were locked on the figure behind Morgan, making its slow approach towards the house. “C-cause my...neighbors are...out of town….”

Morgan was preparing to explain the next card, the Hanged Man, making a full set of major arcana cards, no suits, just big, demanding energy, when she noticed Nate go still with alarm. “Someone else?” She asked, confused. She looked over her shoulder and--

No.

No, this was bullshit. She was not seeing him right now. This was some evil, cursed, supernatural bullshit. Morgan felt sick. She sank onto her hands, her chest tightening. His face had been all wrong, sagging to one side, swollen on the other from the impact of hitting that tree, like on that last day. Morgan fixed her eyes on the deck, waiting to see his staggering footsteps. She waited. Nothing. Morgan risked a look up and-- nothing still. “Fuck this,” she hissed, and scrambled to her feet towards the door.

Nate scrambled backwards, feeling the sense of unease rolling off of Morgan in waves. Whoever this was was not welcome here. “W-where are you going? What’s happening??” He rushed after her pulling them both into the house and locking the door out of reflex. “Do you know that person?” His brows furrowed, not understanding why she might have invited someone else to their reading, but honestly hoping she did. It was better than the alternative which of course was that some shambling stranger was wandering around his yard in the pitch black darkness. As if he wasn’t already horrified of his future.

Morgan pressed her back to the door. “Person?” Morgan hissed through her teeth, voice shrill. “What kind of person disappears as soon as you stop looking at them!” Was this some kind of hex? More White Crest bullshit? Morgan’s brain was firing too fast for her to think, and she didn’t even know half the critters that lived in the cursed place. But whatever was making her see her Dad, mangled and estranged from his real self as he’d been on the day she lost him, after the time she’d had with the treasure chest coins, was on her list. “That is a thing,” she growled. “Some stupid curse, some ghost out of a stick or I don’t even know! But I am not putting up with this!” She went to her bag and started rummaging. Nothing stood out, nothing seemed right, she was running too fast from this to think. “What do you know about the weird things here?”

Nate shrank back at Morgan’s change in demeanor. She’d been so calming before the appearance of the man, though Nate couldn’t fault her. He was straight up terrified now. “I don’t know!! But it- it looked like a person!!” Nate eyed the door, knowing his locks were more than secure, but if that...thing wasn’t a person after all, would all the locks in the world even work? “I know...there’s a lot of it? Everything’s weird?” He wasn’t sure what Morgan had in her bag that could help them right now, but he prayed she knew more than he did about this sort of thing.

Peeking through the door’s window, Nate’s stomach dropped to his knees. No longer did he see the figure of a man, but a lumbering woman, limping along with one arm barely hanging onto her shoulder. In the pale moonlight, there was no mistaking her. Mari. Nate crashed to his knees, his head slamming hard against the door as sobs raked through him. “N-no no no no….she’s- she can’t be-” Somewhere in the back of his mind, Nate wanted to try to help Morgan, but it was all he could do to breathe. His love had come back after all. It only took nine years, but she’d finally found him. He wondered if she were able to eat normally she might have some sort of chance at a real life, like Remmy had. Crawling over to the front window, he saw Mari’s intestines trailing behind her, muscle and raw sinew draped across her shoulders like some sick shawl from beyond the grave. “M-Morgan-” Nate croaked, pointing out the window.

Morgan screwed her eyes shut and tried to remember breathing. In. Hold. Out. She was doing it too quicky, and under her lids she saw the palm tree lunging towards them, the way his body bounced against the steering wheel on impact, how still he was. She opened them. What had Nate said? She? “‘She’ who? What are you talking about?” Morgan turned and staggered back. The figure was pulverised, bloody and draped in gore. “Do you--do you know her?” Distracted, Morgan found her iron and salt. If this thing wasn’t a ghost, it was at least ghost adjacent. That had to mean something. “Nate, get back from the window. She’s not--whoever you think she is. If this turns out to be another bullshit curse thing...” she added through her teeth. There was nothing to say after.

Nate shuffled himself backwards away from the window, clenching his eyes shut. Whoever - whatever Morgan had seen had to have been awful if it had snapped her into such a frenzy. If it was anything like Nate’s ghost from the past, he wondered how she could still make complete sentences. Then again, Morgan seemed a good deal stronger than Nate in a lot of ways. He backed himself up against his weathered couch and wrapped his arms around his knees, waiting for the next instruction. “W-what kind of curse?” He stammered through sobs. “She’s- it’s not really- please tell me it’s not really-” another round of sobs choked him off.

Morgan had to bend over to keep from looking at the broken girl in the window. Her stomach was trying to spiral its way up to her throat and having the iron and the salt didn’t really solve the problem of ‘now you have to get outside and touch it with those things.’ And Morgan knew just like she knew that she’d had it too nice, too balanced, too cozy, that if she went out to take a swing at that thing, it would turn back into her dad. Or maybe her mom. Or maybe her college roommate, freshly lacerated with glass from her fall. And she wasn’t ready for that. She couldn’t stomach this punch from the universe. Even if it meant another one would find her later, she’d handle it over this. “No,” she snapped, breath hollow in her throat, “No it’s not really her! I don’t know what it really is but it’s mean and it’s awful and if I made this happen with my stupid danger zone, I’m sorry!” She straightened up and looked around the house. Suddenly it seemed like there were too many windows, too many places for it to find her, and her Subaru was too far away for comfort. “Where’s your toolbox? You’re gonna need salt and iron and to stop looking at whatever that asshole is! Just stop, stop looking at it, it’s just being cruel!” Her voice was growing shrill as she spoke, the more she fought herself for control, the more it seemed to run away from her. She went for the kitchen and started pulling open drawers and cabinets, pulling out anything that looked close enough to what she needed that it would transmute easily and shoving it onto her pop socket, til there was a steady pile of each. The knives she left alone. Maybe Nate would be able to use it in a pinch. “I’m sorry,” she said again, arming herself with one of the extras. It made her feel safer, having a spare.

Nate peered up at Morgan with tears in his eyes. He didn’t take it personally, but her biting tone cut through him like a knife with his nerves as raw as they were. Shrinking into himself he muttered a response. “T-tools are- the shed-” Sobs continued to crash through him, along with every image of Mari’s mangled corpse from the woods so many years ago compiled with these new fresh horrors. His hands slapped to his head, fingers curling his locks into knots. Morgan flitted around him in a frenzy, ripping open drawers and pulling out random knick knacks. It was clear out of the two of them who would be useful when the apocalypse came and who would immediately turn into a blubbering mess, incapable of doing any real help. Whatever magical strength had come over him when he saved Taylor and her boat was beyond his reach now. Sucking in as much air as he could between sobs, Nate tried to pull himself together, just in time to see Morgan preparing to flee. Oh no….no no no no no. She couldn’t leave him here with- her. “W-where are you going?!”

Morgan had her jaw set and her resolve doubled down. She could take a lot from her curse. She had, in fact, already taken a lot. More than a lot of people she knew. But this was too soon, too much, and the curse magic could call her up another time to yell about it. Throw something different. Mulligan on the misery. She marched to the door, thinking about how much she needed to see, what she really needed to focus on to get out of here alive. “I just can’t do this right now Nate!” she said. “But whatever that thing is, it’s not your friend, so don’t look at it!” And before her conscience or her fear could reach up to pull her back, she was out the door, gunning for the safety of her Subaru. It fluttered comfortingly to life and in the dim, she leveled her gaze to only the barest, closest strip of the road. Behind her she heard something like buzzing, but for all she knew it was the thrum of her own brain trying to shut away what she’d seen.

#chatzy #o death #tw gore #wickedswriting

9 notes · View notes

tsukihimeyfan · 5 years

Text

To Undertale

In honor of its 4 year anniversary, I would like to talk a bit about Undertale (I know I’m a bit late, but bear with me). Apologies ahead of time for the long post, and to anyone who reads it in its entirety; thank you. Also thank you very much to Toby Fox for giving birth to this masterpiece that has touched all of us so much :) I will be discussing several important details in the story, so SPOILER ALERT (just in case)

I came upon Undertale very late. It had already been out for about a year when I first heard about it, but everyone said such wonderful things and I was curious, so I decided to watch a playthrough on youtube, just to sate my curiosity. But Oh Man, I was not prepared for what I found: a gorgeous soundtrack, dozens of memorable characters, an amazing story, an incredible journey, and a veritable fountain of feelings sprouting in my heart. I fell in love.

For at least several weeks afterwards, the words “stay determined”, “everyone can be better if they just try” and “despite everything, it’s still you” bounced around in my head. Also, the idea that “even if its painful, even if you are going through a hard time, you can always choose to be kind, and happiness can always be found there, for others as well as yourself” became embedded in my soul. Even now, thinking about the True Pacifist ending fills me with joy. It was only fairly recently that I finally completed my own playthrough of the game, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that there were still many little secrets to uncover (for example, did you know that the “gauntlet of deadly terror” bridge is just a rock formation that Papyrus painted over to make it more dramatic? He also added the rope for safety LOL😂)

The best part of the game, in my opinion, are the main characters. They are all more complex than they appear, they all have their struggles, and I would like to talk a bit about my opinions and theories about all of them.

Let us start from the beginning and talk about everyone’s favorite goatmom, Toriel. Of course, we all know her sadness at the death of her children, new and old, but if we really think about it there are signs that the situation may have been even worse than it seems... Namely, the shoe box in the room Toriel prepares for Frisk. If you check it, it says there are several shoes “in a disparity of sizes”. Presumably, these are the shoes left behind by the human children before they left the ruins, but they surely didn’t leave the ruins barefoot, right? And if they only stayed with Toriel for a day or so like Frisk does then she wouldn’t have had the opportunity or the need to go out and get some for them. This implies that each human child that fell probably stayed with Toriel for a while, long enough for her to need to buy them new shoes, maybe even because they outgrew their original pair. This, in turn, means that she had a chance to really get to know them, take care of them, and love them, unlike Frisk, who she only took care of for a little while before we leave. This might explain why she is so angry at Asgore, why it is unlikely that she will ever forgive him. If this is true, he not only killed random innocent human children that she didn’t really know, which is bad enough on its own, he might have killed her children, children she treasured. This also explains why she is so obsessive about protecting Frisk from everything and keeping them in the ruins no matter the cost. And yet, despite her pain, her “loneliness and her fear”, she still is one of the most gentle, kind and caring characters you meet, even willing to try to prevent Asgore’s death as well as Frisk’s. Toriel is best goatmom <3

Then we meet the star of the True Pacifist run (especially if you call him often); the Great Papyrus! He is my second favorite character for good reason. He is so much fun from the very beginning. Although he might appear to be a bit narcissistic at first, you quickly realize that in truth he is just lonely and desperate to impress in a misguided attempt to make more friends. Even so, he is always attentive to the feelings of his friends and tries his best to make them feel better. His relationship with Undyne is also quite adorable, and there are signs that he knows more than he lets on about everything (he is at the very least great at gauging the emotional state of people and manipulating them a little to push them towards self improvement, as Frisk’s date with Undyne and his warning about Alphys can demonstrate). Also, the way he always tries to believe the best of people, even in the worst circumstances or when he is scared, is truly admirable. I really love that precious cinnamon roll

Then there is Sans. Oh my god, Sans. He steals the show in the genocide route, truly. He is my favorite character of all, and there are so many things about him you don’t find out if you don’t dig deeper and talk to several people. First of all, he is a wonderful brother. Although he always teases Papyrus, he does his best to cheer him up all the time (for example, in the Genocide route he says that Junior Jumble is the hardest, even though in other routes he says its the crossword, just to make Papyrus feel a bit better when the human refuses to play along with his puzzles), he pays the bills for the house, he probably gave Papyrus his action figures (Papyrus tells you santa gave them to him, but there is a thank you letter to santa in Sans’ room), he made sure Papyrus’ room was super cool and comfortable when he doesn’t even have a bed frame himself, he was probably the one who bought Papyrus his car on the surface (one of the guys at Grillby’s tells you that he spends most of his time checking out car magazines), he helped him build his sentry station and battle body, and he reads him bed time stories every night. Second of all, although he seems to be a comic relief character at first, he is struggling with major depression (you can find out that he is eating less, he doesn’t sleep much at all at night, he feels hopeless all the time, he seems fatigued all day, and he doesn’t see a point in doing anything at all) and is probably using humor to cope. Finally, there is Sans’ heroism as well as his tragedy: he is one of the only characters who is aware of the resets. First he had to live through Flowey’s endless resets, when he first befriended everyone and then proceeded to kill them all in a variety of ways, presumably being the one to stop him from getting the human souls several times (Flowey tells you that Sans has caused him “more than his fair share of resets”). Then there is YOU, who manage to free the monsters, begrudgingly earn his trust/friendship, and then rip it all away (even worse, he is completely aware of your betrayal; if you reset after a True Pacifist ending, you can find a picture of Frisk smiling happily with all of your friends together, and the only time such a picture is taken is when you all make it to the surface, so he certainly knows that you freed everyone and then returned them to the darkness for your curiosity). And yet despite all of that, despite knowing that fighting you is pointless (especially since he can tell every time he kills you and you load your save file), despite not having hope anymore that he will one day see the sun and remain under its light, he still fights you fiercely on the genocide route, again and again, employing all of his considerable power, but not for himself (he doesn’t hope for anything anymore after all); its because he still wants his brother and his friends to have a better future, because he knows that if you win the world will end and no one will ever return, because he still wants you to reset so that everyone will come back and have another chance at happiness, no matter how brief. Jesus christ, this character gives me all of the feels. I love him so much

As for Undyne, I love how she seems so rough but is actually very sweet to her friends and loved ones, and she cares so much for her fellow monsters, always trying her best for their sake. Also, her crush on Alphys is the cutest thing ever, particularly if you take the time to call her often (you’d be surprised how often she talks about Alphys. Papyrus also tries to encourage her several times to be honest with her feelings, and their dynamic is frankly the best mentor-student relationship I’ve ever seen)

In the case of Flowey, I really like how he is a sort of reflection of the player ingame, especially for those who chose to go through the genocide route (“‘I don’t like this’, I told myself, ‘I’m just doing this because I have to see what happens’ Hahaha, what an excuse!”). And the Asriel twist was truly masterfully executed.

I really empathize with Alphys in a lot of ways, since I struggle with social anxiety myself. Her journey to overcome her self hatred and be honest about her mistakes is really touching. I love how her friends understand that she only had the best of intentions at heart and continue to stand by her when she comes clean about what she did. Friendship can really make all the difference in the world for those of us who are struggling like her in one way or another. Her apparent suicide if you kill Mettaton or Undyne, her pillars of support, is one of the saddest things in the game I think. I also really admire how during genocide she presumably opens up the true lab for the evacuating monsters despite her fears, and if you abandon the genocide route in Hotland she takes charge in order to protect all monsters in Undyne’s stead

When we first meet him, my opinion of Mettaton is the same as Undyne’s; “I don’t really like that guy, but I admire his lifestyle”. However, I really enjoyed his growth as a character after Frisk beats him and his fans remind him of what is truly important. He becomes so much more supportive of his friends, and I really like how he always stays true to who he is, even going so far as to find the body/look that perfectly represented how he felt inside, and later encouraged others to do the same (like giving that one lion his dress)

Finally, we come to one of the most interesting characters, even though they are rarely mentioned and not really seen except in the ending of the genocide route: Chara. Truthfully, I think they are often misunderstood because the biggest impression they make is in said ending, when they take control of Frisk and destroy the world. However, I do not believe Chara was inherently evil. After all there are clear indications that Chara is the narrator of the game (the most obvious being the mirrors in Genocide). They tell you that your determination awakened them from death, and I believe that their spirit becomes attached to yours at the beginning of your adventure, which would explain how you, a human new to the underground, can understand the monsters that can’t speak normally like the Froggits and the snails (notice that their text starts with a noise they make, like “ribbit”, and what they actually mean is in parenthesis) as well as the ancient writing on the walls. After all, Chara lived in the underground long enough to become a sibling to Asriel and become known by all the monsters, it would make sense for them to have learned their language, and then they translate for you. This would also mean that all the funny commentary whenever you check an object or a monster comes from Chara. Also Chara being the narrator would explain why they go silent at one point or another during the battles with Asgore and Toriel (when the description says only “...”). Many people argue that their plan to cross the barrier with Asriel and kill humans means they were evil, but I do not think so, even if they did hate humanity. After all, if they only wanted the power to kill humans they could have killed one of the Dreemurs in their sleep, taken their soul and crossed the barrier with it. Instead, they killed themselves, gave Asriel their soul in order to break the barrier and made a plan to free all of their monster friends and family. Death from buttercup poisoning is not an easy one either (it includes bloody diarrhea, abdominal pain and blistering of the intestines); they had to suffer in terrible agony for days in order to achieve their goal, all for their monster family. People also argue that the fact that they laughed after accidentally poisoning Asgore means they did it on purpose or enjoyed causing him pain, but Undertale shows us many times that sometimes you laugh when the only thing you want to do is cry. There is also this during the fight with the Snowy amalgamate which proves my point: (look below) . Finally, during the battle with Asriel in True Pacifist, you use your memories with your friends in order to save them, but you don’t know Asriel at all, so how do you save him? The answer is simple: Chara shares their memories of him with you, and since they are the narrator, they are also the one who encourages you to use the last of your power to save your friends. In conclusion, I think in the beginning Chara is just a slightly bitter, slightly misguided, sometimes unnecessarily violent child who tried to do their best to protect those they loved, even though in hindsight it might not have been with a good method. In many ways, they remind me of Undyne (specially after MK says that maybe she is mean, not cool, in the True Pacifist ending. That really breaks my heart, when I think about all she has done for monsters in general and MK in particular in other routes. It would also explain why Chara seems to admire her so much, calling her a heroine in every route and seeming horrified by the state of her body when she is killed in neutral routes). This means that what they become in the Genocide route is because of you, and they even tell you so at the end (you are the one who makes them think the only meaning of their reincarnation is acquiring power). It makes sense that seeing everyone they know and love being killed systematically right in front of them would twist them, turn them into something they were never meant to be in order to cope with what is happening. Also, Sans does say that gaining LV causes you to feel less and hurt others more easily. Your actions take that well-intentioned but misguided child and turn them into a demon.

I am so in love with these characters that I cannot do a Genocide route myself. I only know about it from watching playthroughs but I don’t have the heart to destroy their happiness. I only ever did a single run, without resetting once, all the way up to True Pacifist. I like to think that in some universe where they are real, they are living happily on the surface, Sans has had the chance to restore his lost hopes, and resets are no more.

I would also like to thank the Undertale fandom for giving me a home, and so many wonderful ideas to explore. Since Deltarune practically confirms that the Multiverse exists in canon, the possibilities are endless, and the amount of detail and dedication you guys have devoted to building those other realities is truly outstanding. I specially love Underfell, Aftertale (and its close relative Errortale), Underswap, Handplates, Endertale, and Underverse/Xtale. To their creators, thank you for the ideas, the art, and the possibilities. And most of all, thank you Toby Fox for starting us all on this wonderful journey.

And to all my fellow fans: Remember, Always Stay Determined ♥️

#undertale #stay determined #happy anniversary #despite everything it's still you #toby fox #thyf rambles

21 notes · View notes

katedrakeohd · 5 years

Text

The Royal Honor 👑

Chapter Two

@ritachacha for you. 😊

A ‘The Royal Heir’ Fanfiction

__________________________

Up in the Heir

In the morning, Kate repacks their suitcases while Drake showers. The Royal jet was scheduled to pick them up at 10 am. Despite being away for a week neither of them had packed much. Kate had brought more beachwear and extra underwear than real clothes. The exception had been a pair of sundresses to wear to dinner and for the flight home. Drake had packed his favourite jeans and a couple of denim shirts, and at Kate's insistence some shorts and tshirts too. Drake was totally clueless sometimes about packing clothes for travel, that sort of thing really didn't matter much to him. Kate had discovered his reasoning for wanting to pack so little once they'd arrived at the villa that first day. He'd intended on spending the majority of his time as naked as possible. She had burst out laughing at this at first, reminding him that the island DID have a staff of strangers for most of the day. They'd only be free to be outdoors naked at night.

In the end he'd conceded to at least wear shorts or swim trunks during the day, taking every opportunity to go shirtless when they found each other alone. After a couple of days of being under the watchful eyes of the butler and his staff, who graciously catered to their every need, Drake had become impatient at the lack of privacy. It became a game for him to find ways to ditch the staff and sneak private time with Kate during the day. They'd miraculously appear at scheduled mealtimes, slightly disheveled, but at least appropriately dressed.

Standing at the open window Kate fills her lungs with the fresh ocean breeze. The perfect glittering ocean landscape outside had been the same every day of their trip. It hadn't rained, the daily temperatures had fluctuated little, and apart from the predictable sunrise and sunset times the only thing that changed was whether they had fluffy clouds that day or clear skies. It had all seemed surreal to Kate, her time in Cordonia and on this tropical island. So different than her life and climate in New York city. As she stood at the window, lost in thought, she wasn't aware that Drake had finished his shower.

Walking into the main room of the villa, drying himself with his bath towel, he sees Kate standing at the window. As he crossed the room to join her, he smiled. She positively glowed. The honey brown sun kissed color of her skin was a stark contrast to the crisp white, and floral print of her sundress. Her hair was swept up in a ponytail accented by a white cotton ribbon. Delicate pearl earrings, a gift he had given her their first night on the island, dripped from her earlobes. The breeze from the window caught the loose tendrils of hair at her nape and where they framed her beautiful face. He wanted to twirl them around his finger, knowing how silky they'd feel, or tuck them behind her ear and steal a caress of the soft skin of her face or neck. To hear her gasp, and see her lips part at his warm touch, and yearn to be kissed.

Kate heard the pad of his bare feet on the floorboards as he approached, and his naked reflection in the window glass made her breath catch. She could see the mischievous gleam in his eye and the smirk on his face. Pretending to be engrossed in the scenery outside, she waited for him with bated breath. As the warmth of his body, and the fresh scent of his clean skin filled her senses she felt her body respond. Her blood sizzled, her nerves on alert for his touch, just his breath on her skin made her nipples harden and sent a warmth spreading through her abdomen that coalesced between her thighs. When he spoke, she stifled the moan that threatened to escape her throat by biting hard on her lip.

“Hello Beautiful,” his voice rumbled as he dipped his head down to kiss her shoulder.

“Hello my Love,” she whispers, reaching up to grab the back of his neck.

Drake reaches up to place his hand on her throat, feeling her racing pulse against his palm as she tips her head back. Grasping the strap of her sundress with his teeth, he transfers it to his thumb and slides it off her shoulder. Kate gasps as his hand tightens on her throat and his fingers tickle a trail of goosebumps down her arm. His hand slides over her hip, reaching for the hem of her dress.

“Drake,” she whispers, as he presses her up against the windowsill with his body.

As his hot breath blows the loose tendrils of hair on her neck, she moans.

“You need to stop Drake, the Royal jet will be here within minutes.”

His hand moves from her throat to squeeze her breast, while the other slides up her thigh under her skirt.

“So, let them wait.” He growls, biting the side of her neck.

Reaching out to place her hands on the window, Kate notices someone walking up the beach. This wouldn't be unusual except for the way he's dressed. “Umm, Drake? Who's that?”

Lifting up the back of her dress, Drake massages the bare cheeks of her ass, hooking his finger into the lacy band of her thong and yanking it out of her crack. “They would be my fingers, followed by an intrusion by Little Drake.”

Kate laughs, swatting his hand away, “No silly, who's that walking toward us from the beach?”

Drake looks up, “Who? Where?”

Kate taps at the window, “It looks like King Nicholas.”

Drake scowls, bending over to get his towel from the floor. He wraps it angrily around his hips. “Son of a Bitch, what is he doing here?”

Kate folds her arms under her breasts and leans her hip against the windowsill.

“Well it is HIS island. ”

Drake storms over to his suitcase, rifling through the neatly folded clothes that Kate had packed for him. Grabbing a handful of items he starts to get dressed.

“Yes I know that for Fuck's sake, but I was expecting to see him on the airstrip not at our door. Go out there and stall him, I can't have the King catch me naked.”

Kate glances over her shoulder, seeing Nicholas approaching the doorstep. She quickly goes to the door and steps outside. She attempts to keep him from getting any closer to the door or from seeing in the windows. Throwing on her bravest smile, hoping her tan disguises the blush blooming on her cheeks, she waves to him.

“Good Morning Nicholas, we weren't expecting you so soon.”

Looking her up and down, and taking in how nervous she looks, Nicholas grins. “My apologies Kate, I wanted to talk to you and Drake privately before we go back to Cordonia.”

Kate jumps as she hears Drake's voice from behind her. “Privately about what?”

Drake slips his around Kate's waist, pulling her to his side.

Nicholas looks down at his bare feet burning in the hot sand, his shoes dangling off of his fingers. Sweat drips from his temples as he wipes his forehead on his sleeve. He steps up onto the deck boards, which are almost as warm as the sand. “Can we go inside and talk. I am frightfully overdressed for this heat.”

Kate steps away from Drake and then goes to open the door, “Of course Your Majesty, how rude of us. Please do come in.”

Drake steps aside, watching Nicholas wipe his feet on the doormat and then follows him inside. The air conditioned interior is a welcome change to the heat outside. Nicholas drops his shoes by the door and then turns to Drake and Kate.

“The press outlets in Valtoria have been clamoring for news about Cordonia’s newest Duke and Duchess. You've been married for a month now and they've been speculating all this week of your honeymoon that you may already be pregnant.”

Kate’s mouth drops open with shock, she holds her hands up. “Woah, wait a minute. Whether Drake and I are ready to start a family is our business. Is there no such thing as privacy anymore?”

Drake reaches for her hand, his brow creasing into a sympathetic frown. “We talked about having children Kate.”

Nicholas smiles, and he and Drake share a silent nod.

“Such is the life of newly married nobles Kate, especially those as high profile as you've become. Your wedding brought Nobles together to support the crown. And now the crown needs you more than ever.” Nicholas says, looking from Drake to Kate.

Kate frowns, looking between her husband and her King. It was like they'd already made up their mind about something. “What's going on, what am I missing here?”

Nicholas reaches out to take both of her hands in his, his expression gravely serious, “Kate as you know, I am a King without a Queen. Being single this long after my coronation, despite going through the trouble of courting so many eligible suitors has weakened my position on the world stage. Although I may have the support of the Nobility in this country, it's the neighboring kingdoms who are applying pressure for me to supply an heir to solidify my position as King.”

Kate looks at him with horror, pulling her hands out of his grip, “I'm happily married Your Majesty. I saw the way you looked at Drake just now. If you're proposing we open up our relationship to become one of these ‘Cordonian' marriages you're sadly mistaken. I’m not sleeping with you so that you can make an heir.”

Nicholas chuckles, “Oh no Kate, I would never do that. I'm asking if you and Drake would agree to allow me to appoint your future child as heir to the throne.”

Kate takes a step back, trying to process the enormous responsibility he was asking them to accept.

“I..I..don't know what to say.” she stammers.

She looks over at Drake to gauge his reaction. To her horror, he was beaming with pride. Reaching out to shake Nicholas’ hand, “Wow, my kid on the throne? What an honor.”

Kate feels weak in the knees and sick to her stomach. What the Hell Drake?! Shouldn't we talk about this first??

She's struck speechless at Drake's sudden willingness to make their child royalty.

Nicholas can't help but notice Kate's panicked expression. “I'll let you think about it. But I have a more pleasant surprise for you, I hope..”

Kate hears footsteps and laughter outside on the steps. She throws on a smile and tries to look happy to see Hana, Maxwell and Bertrand come through the door.

“Wow for a beach shack this is pretty sweet!” Maxwell exclaims, wiping his feet on the doormat.

“Maxwell!” Bertrand scowls in disapproval.

“I think your information is a little off. They've made improvements to the villa since 1997.” Hana laughs.

Drake clears his throat, “Hey Guys, welcome to our honeymoon. Please tell me you're not staying.”

Maxwell rushes over and gives Kate a hug, “You look amazing! A week in Paradise with Drake's big dick energy has got you positively glowing.”

Bertrand rolls his eyes, Drake scowls, Hana blushes and Nicholas shakes his head. Kate speaks up, “So I take it you guys are here to spend the last day on the island with us.”

“Heck yeah, we've come to paaaarty!” Maxwell dances on the spot, snapping his fingers to the unheard song in his head.

Drake walks over and wraps his arm around Kate, giving her a kiss on the cheek. She stands stiffly next to him, the details of their earlier conversation still festering in her mind.

“I suppose I did miss you guys, and it would be a shame to keep this beautiful place all to ourselves.” Kate says, sliding her hand into Drake's

Hana walks around the villa, checking the view from each window. “Wow they picked the perfect location on the beach to build on, the view is beautiful everywhere you look.”

“Speaking of beach,” Maxwell quickly unbuttons his shirt. “Let's get out there and enjoy it."

Bertrand straightens his jacket, clearly uncomfortable baring anything, “I think I'll refrain from any ‘partying’ , but it is nice to see you both again.”

Nicholas pulls his jacket off, “I can't wait to show everyone some of my favorite places on the island.”

As everyone turns toward the door to leave, the tablet that Bertrand is carrying gets a notification, “Pardon me Your Majesty, I've just received word that you have unexpected royal visitors back at Home. The King and Queen of Auvernal.”

Kate frowns, “Sounds familiar, where's Auvernal?”

“They're one of Cordonia’s neighbors, they haven't been the closest of friends, but the two Kingdoms have been getting along well in recent years.” Hana replies.

Nicholas rubs his chin, “When did they arrive?”

Bertrand scowls as he reads, “About an hour ago, they want to discuss the issue of your heir, and are insisting on staying around until you get back.”

“Wow, how pushy and rude.” Hana gasps.

“Oh they refuse to be ignored,” Nicholas says, running his hands through his hair with a sigh.

“So what are you going to do about them?” Drake asks.

Nicholas shrugs smiling, “Well since they've shown up unannounced, they can wait. I'm not going to give up a day with my friends. How often do we all get to spend time together on a tropical island?”

Drake nods, “And send them a clear message in the process.”

“Precisely,” he replies.

Bertrand prepares a message to pass along, “As you wish, I will send a message to Madeleine to inform them of your regrets. And that you'll be there to see them when your schedule opens up.”

“Thank you Bertrand. Now I believe there's a beach with our names on it.” Nicholas smiles happily.

“All right, let's do this!” Maxwell says clapping his hands, fist pumping the air.

Drake shakes his head, “You're too excited for your own good Max, don't make me regret including you in our honeymoon.”

As everyone disperses to get changed, Bertrand hangs back looking concerned. “Ok Bertrand, out with it. What's got you looking so worried? It's just a day on the beach.” Kate says, touching his arm.

Bertrand looks down at his tablet, his hand rubbing at the furrows of his worried brow. “It's not the beach I'm concerned about, it's the dire situation back home. Without an heir to the throne, Nicholas’ position is vulnerable. There will be pressure from Auvernal to join an alliance with them, or else. And I fear that Cordonia will be swallowed up.”

“Well for now we can't fight them from the beach, so we'll deal with them when we get home. Nicholas may not have a Queen, but he's not alone. Auvernal and everyone else will have to deal with the Duke and Duchess of Valtoria by his side.” Kate says, her eyes shining with conviction.

Bertrand pats Kate on the shoulder, “I don't doubt you and Drake for a minute Kate.”

Kate nods, “Ok then let's get out in the sand and sunshine. We can't let our friends have all the fun without us.”

Bertrand frowns, grumbling, “Must there be sand involved?”

After Kate gets changed into a bikini top and shorts, she and Bertrand find their friends waiting in a private cove. Drake and Maxwell are tossing a volleyball back and forth.

“There you two are, we're trying to make up teams for a game.” Drake says, spiking the ball at Maxwell, who ducks and deflects the ball away. It rolls over to Hana, and she picks it up.

“A friendly game would be great,” she says.

Bertrand huffs, “I'll be the judge of that.”

“You mean referee.” Drake corrects him.

Maxwell quickly counts everybody, his mouth dropping open. “But wait Bertrand in order to make things fair we need you to play.”

“Ok fine,” he says reluctantly.

As they divide up into teams, it becomes Hana, Kate and Nicholas versus Drake, Maxwell and Bertrand.

Kate chuckles to herself. Drake always ended up on the opposite team when they played games with friends. And because of his stubbornness he ended up trying to over compensate for his team's shortcomings. In other words he was a ball hog. And with his and Nicholas’ long standing rivalry they were always trying to best the other.

Nicholas spins the ball in his hands, grinning as he fixes Drake with a challenge in his eyes from across the court. “The usual wager, Drake?”

Hana looks between them, “What kind of wager?”

Drake laughs, “Oh nothing serious, Nicholas and I play for pushups.”

Kate shakes her head with a grin, remembering how they had bet on the horse race way back in the social season. Nicholas had lost.

“At the very least the loser gets some extra exercise. And the winner gets to gloat.” Nicholas says.

“Says the guy who usually loses,” Drake teases.

“Ok guys this is a volleyball game, not a pissing match. So put it back in your shorts, and let's play.” Kate laughs.

Drake winks at her from across the court, tugging up the waistband of his shorts. Maxwell takes aim at his opponents with his finger guns. “Ok guys let's do this. Team Tricky Nicky is going down.”

Nicholas chuckles, “We'll see.”

He serves it across the net, Drake smashes it back in Kate's direction.

Kate rushes over to bump it back, “I've got it!”

Drake dives for the ball, sending it over the net. It lands in the sand next to Hana.

“Nice try Kate, but you've got to be faster than that to score on me.” He smirks, brushing the sand off himself.

Hana picks up the ball, “Don't worry Kate, we'll get him back.”

The game continues with both teams scoring points. Once Hana gets into a groove she proves to be ruthless, picking on Maxwell at any chance she can get. Despite his willingness to help out his team whenever he can, Maxwell is no match for her. Bertrand was pretty much useless, huffing and puffing in his brown suit. He kept catching the ball instead of trying to hit it back over the net. Drake and Nicholas launch killer shots back and forth at each other, crisscrossing the court. It was all Kate could do not to get trampled. Hana and Nicholas were clearly winning the majority of the points for their team. Occasionally Kate managed to lob a deflected shot back over the net, but they were easily whacked back over the net by Drake. As the game winds down the score is tied and it's Nicholas’ serve.

“Heads up losers, the game winner is serving up right…Now!”

Maxwell hits it back, but Hana is ready by the net to spike it hard back at him. It bounces off of Bertrand’s head, knocking him down. “Ouch!”

“Whoops sorry, “ Hana giggles.

Drake jumps up to spike the ball back over the net with a grunt. “Uugh!”

Kate dives for it and misses, the ball bouncing about six inches out of reach.

“Yes! Booyah!” Drake pumps his fist in the air. He swings his other arm up to aggressively high five Maxwell, who flinches and ducks, throwing up his hand defensively.

“Yeah, for team..us,” he winces, shaking out his stinging hand.

Nicholas nods his head, conceding defeat, “Congratulations Drake.”

“Great game, now pay up Your Majesty!” Drake laughs.

Nicholas adjusts the waistband of his shorts, placing his hands on his hips. “You wouldn't let me forget, would you.”

Drake shakes his head, “Nope.”

Nicholas drops down to the sand to do push ups. Kate and Hana exchange a glance as he labors against the hot sand.

“We lost as a team, so we need to pay up as a team.” Hana says.

Kate nods, “It's only fair.”

They drop down on the sand to do push ups next to Nicholas, who pauses long enough to give them both a nod in gratitude.

On the other side of the net, Maxwell and Bertrand sit side by side on the sand.

“So big brother, if we had lost..” he gestures toward the King and his teammates pushing against the sand, sweating in the hot sun.

Bertrand shakes his head, “Not on your life. I'm quite sure I've already ruined this suit with these sweaty shenanigans. I'd let Drake do them all.”

Drake lowers the bottle of water he's been drinking, overhearing their conversation. He kicks sand in their direction and then dumps the rest of the water over his head. Shaking his wet hair out at them, he laughs. “Oh really?”

Maxwell throws his hands up over his face and laughs, Bertrand snorts in disgust and scurries away.

Brushing himself off, Bertrand hears the sound of a boat on the water. He looks up and sees the glint of the sunshine on glass as the boat turns sharply and speeds away.

“I believe the media has found us,” he scowls.

Hana, Kate and Nicholas get up off the sand, brushing themselves off and going for the chest that holds their supply of bottled water.

“I thought this was a secret, private island.” Kate says, feeling suddenly very exposed and underdressed. She grabs a towel and covers herself, although she knows it's too little too late.

Nicholas frowns indignantly, “It's supposed to be. And If I find out one of my support staff leaked our location they're ass is going to fired.”

Drake ducks under the volleyball net and goes over to stand next to Kate, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Now I feel bad for not being on your team. I wish the media vultures would leave us alone.”

“I'll alert the security team at once your Majesty,” Bertrand says, storming off. “Although I'm greatly disappointed they'd allow a strange boat get this close to us in the first place.”

“We should move further inland where they can't see us, any ideas?” Nicholas asks, shading his eyes from the sun to scan the water and then up and down the beach for other intruders.

Maxwell can barely contain his excitement at having the chance to decide what they do next. Especially now that his brother was busy doing boring stuff. Drake sees his eyes light up, and the grin spread across his face, he secretly hoped that his activity doesn't involve anything he'd regret later. “Ok out with it Maxwell, before you explode.”

“I have an idea! Hana and I looked into what else the island had to offer for fun while we were on the way here. I just know you're gonna love it!” Maxwell beams.

Drake grumbles, the look in Maxwell's eyes was all sorts of crazy, “Your enthusiasm worries the Fuck out of me Max, ”

Kate slaps Drake on the arm, “Oh hush you.”

Maxwell practically bubbles with excitement as he explains, “The other side of the island is lush with breathtaking scenery and full of exotic animals, and what better way to experience it all than ziplining! “

Kate gulps. She was deathly scared of heights, and sincerely hoped Drake wouldn't be onboard for this.

Drake nods, “You know what, that does sound like fun.”

Kate feels her stomach drop. Well shit, I wasn't expecting him to say that.

Hana and Maxwell exchange a triumphant high five. They look at Kate expectantly. “Well what do you say Kate?”

“It does sound like the perfect distraction, it's been a while since I've had the chance to explore the rest of the island.” Nicholas says with a smile.

Kate looks at all of their excited faces, torn between succumbing to her fear and bowing out and the fear of missing out on a once in a lifetime experience with her friends and thus disappointing them.

She takes Drake's hand and gives it a squeeze, he catches the worried look in her eyes for the first time. “As exciting as flying through dangerous rock formations on a wire sounds, I'm feeling totally wiped after our volleyball game. So I think I'm going to pass. But you guys are welcome to go ahead without us.”

Drake takes the hint when she uses “us" in her answer. “Uh, yeah. We'll catch up with you all later for Dinner. “ he says trying to hide his disappointment.

Nicholas, Hana and Maxwell collect their things and prepare to leave.

There's an odd look on Nicholas’ face for a moment and then it's gone, Kate could swear it was jealousy but he quickly hides it with a smile. “I suppose it is still your honeymoon afterall. Off with you two then.”

He turns and follows Maxwell and Hana, and Drake tugs at her hand and they walk back to the villa together.

Turning her head to take one last look back, she feels a pang of regret, and Drake's body language was less than relaxed as he trudged through the sand next to her. “Are you really tired Kate, or is there another reason we're going in the opposite direction than our friends?”

Kate tries to organize her thoughts and feelings and then just lets out a sigh, “I..I'm..ok maybe I'm not that tired Drake. But I wanted some time alone with you so we could talk about what happened this morning.”

“You're talking about Nicholas and this heir business right?” he says.

Kate feels a tiny measure of relief that he's at least willing to discuss it with her, “Yes, we need to talk about this before we rush into anything.”

“He's my best friend Kate, you know I'd do anything for him.” He begins.

Kate looks off toward the water, hiding the fact that she's rolling her eyes. Not this Best Friend bullshit again.

“He was your best friend, and your Best Man at our wedding. But we're married Drake, shouldn't I be your best friend now?” she argues, hating that he was still putting Nicholas ahead of her.

Drake looks down, “Yeah I know. But being married to you doesn't change how I feel about him.

Kate looks over at Drake with a frown as they walk up to the door of the villa. What does he mean by how he feels about Nicholas? They're just friends right? Practically brothers I suppose. But was there something else?

#long post #for rita

8 notes · View notes

emotionalgirl101 · 5 years

Text

Question | Chapter 2

Words: 2,104

Genre: college au, angst, fluff

Pairing: SKZ x reader

Summary: Your best friend, Minho, had been refusing to introduce you to his other group of best friends for months now, with no explanation as to why. One night after getting drunk after work together, he gave in to your pleas. Oops.

Warning: Contains mature content (such as coarse language, violent themes, etc).

A/N: SORRY FOR POSTING LATE! Just a quick reminder to check out the profiles post, and I’ll be making a Question masterlist for the series, too. In case you’re reading this first, I based appearances on the ‘I am who’ era. There is no real reason as to why apart from the fact that Jisung’s hair looks so fluffy and nice and oml I love it especially when he wears the cap in the ‘Awkward silence’ mv too I need help. Also, not edited because I felt bad about posting so late rip. Enjoy~

-------------------------------

You weren’t far from the apartment, but not close enough, to your disappointment. You were sobering up and starting to regret the whole thing. You didn’t feel that confident walking in in your work clothes, you were still tipsy and looking like a mess, and your feet were fucking killing you. Curse your uniform meaning you had to wear high heels.

Minho appeared to sense your anguish, cutting short his conversation on a stupid argument he overheard at the bar, and focusing in on you. “You okay? Seem kind of, I don’t know, out of it, I guess…” He let his words linger in the air. Once he got tired of waiting, he poked you in the arm so you’d give him attention. “I’m just worried I’ll make a fool of myself.”

“Ah,” he smirked, “someone’s sobered up, huh? Well, too late now. I’m a nice friend but not nice enough to walk all the way back in the other direction and catch a bus with you. You have no choice now.” He taunted, looking dead ahead. Although he didn’t say anything similar, ‘told-you-so’ energy was emulating from his aura. So, you did what anyone else would do in that situation. Hit him for being a teasing ass and pout. “Not helping” You grumbled. He let out small laugh, massaging the point of impact with his free hand. He had still insisted on carrying your bag. You couldn’t be that mad at him due to the fact, playfully or otherwise.

He piped up again, just as the previously stirred silence was starting to settle. “I know. How about we come up with a list of things for me to stop you from doing, so you don’t embarrass yourself?” He looked over at you, hoping you’d like his suggestion, or at the very least, appreciate it. He had limited brain cells, especially after drinking and working at that bar for so long. Pay some credit where it’s due.

“Like, a set of rules, or something?” You looked at him, waiting for a response. “I guess, yeah.” He shrugged back. You shook your head, the teasing tone rising in your voice again. “Rules? Nope, not listening. I’m not falling them. Never have, never will.” Shock flashed across his face, then recognition took its place.

“Dude, come on! I said that once, like a year ago. I was immature back then.” Minho huffed out. “Yeah, like you’re much better now.” You snickered under your breathe, but you both know he heard it. He charged at you without warning, and you squealed, running behind a light post to take cover from his playful abuse. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I give in, okay?” You put your hands up in surrender as you retreated from behind the pole. The boy was laughing, and then so were you. He swung your bag over his left shoulder, and pulled you into his right side. An arm was slung around your shoulder. You crossed the street, encompassed by the peaceful harmony of breathing and shared heartbeats.

“Okay, we’re almost at the house. You have 2 minutes to give me any instructions to help you out. If you say nothing, I get no blame if you make a fool of yourself. Now, shoot.”

You sighed. He was right. At a time like this, a strategy was important. Minho was your best friend, and you wanted to make a good impression, not only for the sake of Minho, but also your friendship. The only time you went to his apartment was when all his roommates were out for the day. If you were going to hang out, you’d have to be able to go to his place without any awkward encounters. It made the most sense. Besides, you were bound to meet them, anyway. Minho’s birthday wasn’t that far off, and if they were his friends, how bad could they be?

“Okay. Most important thing first. Do not let me pull any stupid stunt-“ “Like stripping?” Minho inquired innocently, remembering that one time you got blackout level wasted after your mid semester exams. You didn’t want to that about that, especially not right now. “I was thinking more like standing on the table, but yeah. Hopefully, I won’t get THAT drunk.” You emphasised. “Oh, with our group, it’s highly likely that’ll happen.” You rolled your eyes. “Next?” He urged.

“Under no circumstances will you let me, or you for that matter, tell any embarrassing stories. Like, really bad ones that you save for drunken nights with close friends.” He nodded, “Got it. Anything else?”

“I guess, just don’t let me do anything I’ll regret. Anything bad that I’d remember in the morning with a bad hangover and want to kill you over.” The sudden threat caused the raven haired boy to tense slightly, but you both laughed it off.

“Any warnings for me? Anything I should be aware of about these guys? Like, you know, homicidal tendencies?” He threw his head back, laughing at the way you put the question to him. “Nah, nah. They’re not anything like that. One thing, though. They can be loud. Like REALLY loud.” He kept moving forward. The door to his apartment was slowly appearing, but you weren’t focused enough on your surroundings to notice. “Like, worse than you loud?” You said in mock fear. He just smiled cheekily. “Worse.”

He came to a stop at a midnight blue front door, removing his arm from around your shoulders and fishing out his keys from his right pocket. The nerves hit you like a brick wall now. “I’m still way too sober for this.” You sighed, more to yourself than to the boy ahead of you, hands retreating to your jacket pockets as you said so.

He chuckled. “Don’t worry. We can fix that.” He winked and ushered you in.

You stood in the small entry way, looking around at the clutter, which strikes you as typical for an apartment of nine boys. You took a step further in as Minho manoeuvred from behind you, placing your belongings by the door. He slipped off his shoes, and you followed suit, as he dumped his keys carelessly on the table beside him.

As Minho closed the door behind you, a loud voice came from the passage way to your left. The owner was hidden behind the wall, but it definitely belonged to a guy your age.

“Hyung!” he called out, “Finally! I’m starv-“ His sentence was cut short when he rounded the corner, and his eyes met yours. His mouth fell open and brown eyes were grew wide. “-ing... You’re not...” his words faded as he finally realised Minho was, in fact, there. He recovered, smiling, as realisation adorned his feature. His smile was so warm when is gaze returned to you.

“You must be the one trying to steal him away from me.” The boy had no trouble teasing you, despite this being your first exchange. Minho smirked at the boy’s antics before introducing the two of you to one another. “Jisung, this is Y/n. She’s older than you so behave. Y/n this is my housemate, Jisung.”

You smiled, feeling comfortable around Jisung almost immediately. “Nice to meet you,” you waved.

“No need to be formal with him, don’t worry.” You laughed as Jisung acted offended by Minho’s words. The older moved towards him, throwing an arm lazily over the boy. Both beamed at you.

“Did I hear a girl’s laugh, or is Jisung flirting with Minho again.” a sharp-tongued boy emerged from the opposite hallway Jisung had appeared from. He looked pleased with himself when the colour drained from the two faces his eye fell upon. If all of Minho’s friends gave him this much shit, you could see yourself getting along with all the boys without trouble. He then turned to you, bowing slightly and introducing himself with a softer smile. “I’m Seungmin.”

“Y/n.” you replied. You soon found out just how blunt Seungmin could be. “So how’d you get stuck with him?” He pointed to Minho, who had a genuine expression of annoyance and shock. “Dude, I’m right here.”

Seungmin continued to smile at him and shrugged. Then had a hand on his left shoulder gently usher him out of the hallway, revealing a smaller guy. He grinned just as brightly as the rest had when his eyes fell on you. He moved away from Seungmin and bowed, a small smirk gracing his lips. “I’m Changbin, Minho hyung’s good looking friend.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes, mouthing a not so subtle ‘sorry about him’ at you, just before Jisung shut him down.

“You wish, hyung” Jisung snorted. He looked proud when laughter erupted from everyone, with the exception of Changbin. He looked like he had no clue how to react, letting out a small, unsure laugh.

“I’m Y/n.” you smiled after calming down a bit. Changbin’s bright smile returned to his lips. Minho looked back at you, “Since you’re going to get sick of introducing yourself five more times,” he turned to face the large archway behind him, that appeared to lead into the main living area. Then he proceeded to shout notice of your arrival. “EVERYONE! MY FRIEND, Y/N IS HERE. YES, SHE’S A GIRL, AND IF YOU HURT HER YOU’RE NOT GOING TO WAKE UP IN THE MORNING. THANK YOU!” He huffed a sigh, turn back to you, then at the boys. They were all quiet, shifting uncomfortably at the thought of Minho’s shallow threat. You and he both let out a laugh, which was quickly halted when a shout came from the room beyond you.

“MINHO HYUNG HAS FRIENDS?!” Minho turned expressionless as the young boy’s voice had the rest of the entry way in stitches. Jisung leaned on Minho’s shoulder, which was aggressively pushed away by the latter. Jisung lost his balance, almost falling over completely, only egging on everyone else’s laughter.

The boy, whom you guessed had made the comment judging by the huge grin consuming his face, entered with an older housemate in toe. They boys appearances made you feel as if you were being approached by a fox and a teddy bear.

The younger boy waved at you, before the older began to speak. “Hi, I’m Woojin, and this is Jeongin. Welcome.” He turned to the other boys, “Ever thought about letting her further inside?” He raised his eyebrows, followed by Minho using the opportunity to usher you away. “Thanks, hyung.” he smiled up at Woojin as you passed through.

He walked you through the entry into the living area. It was an average size considering there were nine boys living in the house. Two boys were lazing on the couch in front of the large tv, eyes trained on the fantastical figures there were controlling on the screen. Jisung, Changbin and Jeongin headed their way after following you and Minho into the communal room. The kitchen linked in, more so hidden out of sight to the left of the entrance. Woojin headed there, Seungmin in toe. Minho guided you over there as well.

“So Y/n, how did you meet Minho?” Woojin smiles politely as he poured water for the four of you. Jeongin appearing behind him, making his way to the pantry before Seungmin grabbed him in a back hug. “Hyung~” Jeongin whined, resulting in Seungmin releasing him and turning back to the conversation. The others were watching the exchange, too, so you didn’t have to worry about replying right away.

Everyone’s attention returning to the topic at hand, you replied with small “uni.” Minho took over the conversation to give a more in-depth explanation. You were so grateful he could read you so easily. Jeongin joined the conversation momentarily to make fun of Minho. Seungmin managed to grab a couple of chips from the bag in the Maknae’s hands before Jeongin was out of the kitchen. The boy proceeded to make a desperate run to save his snack from unwanted hands, leaving to the couch with his Honey Butter Chips. You laughed at their behaviour, more so when you shared a cheeky smile with Seungmin.

Steps were heard from yet another passage way, this time one that was located to the right of the kitchen. He emerged, a calm aura surrounding him. His hair was a brown, slightly fluffy mess, his fingers running through it. His over sized shirt hung on his frame nicely, partially exposing the left side of his collar bone. His eyes landed on you, just as quickly as yours had on him.

“Hi, I’m Chan.”

61 notes · View notes