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mid-weast · 3 years

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Will you keep it down? | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: You and Jungkook attend the same university and have been neighbors for 3 months now. It drives you crazy that he plays loud music at 2AM, and it drives him crazy that you barely acknowledge his presence.

Pairing: Jungkook x Female!Reader; Black!Reader

Words: 2.6K

Genre: enemies to lovers, student!jungkook, student!reader, fluff, mention of smut, angst? (in the form of bickering back and forth).

Authors note: Hi hi! This is the first fic I’ve ever written so if it’s bad I’m sorry. Also it is unedited so if there's grammar / spelling mistakes I'm sorry again! Also this is catered toward the reader being Black but I hope it can be enjoyed by everyone. Thank you for reading! Feedback is appreciated ok love u bye!

“Y/N? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??!? Open this door RIGHT NOW!”

Even though you were studying in your room, his knocks were so loud you nearly jumped out of your skin. You had expected a reaction, but not a full-on explosion.

You and Jungkook have been apartment neighbors for about three months now, and a constant problem is that he blares his music hella loud late at night. Of course he’s a music major so he listens to music a lot, but at this point you don’t care. It doesn’t even seem like he’s working on composition homework anyway, just being an asshole with no regard for his neighbors peace. Now don’t get yourself wrong, you're not just some uptight bitch who complains about everything. Well, you do have several pet peeves but over the years of going to school in Korea you’ve picked and chosen your battles very wisely. In most cases you let things slide. You wouldn’t care at all about someone playing the music loudly, but it is 2 AM, and while you’re up studying you know a lot of your other neighbors are trying to sleep.

You tiptoe toward your front door and twist the knob slowly. You only open the door wide enough to be able to see his face. It’s not that you’re scared that you’re in danger or anything, and you rarely back down from people giving you a hard time. But you were tired, wearing a big ass t- shirt and short shorts (your regular sleep attire), and it was late at night. So if anything was going to pop off you felt pretty vulnerable. Even though you’re the same age, he towers over you and you find his size kinda intimidating.

As usual, you have to crane your neck to see his face, and your view of him is limited by the narrowness in which

you opened the door.

“Can I help you, lil boy?”

From what you can see of him, right away you can tell that he is pissed. Dawning his usual attire of a black sweatshirt with the hood up, black sweats, and stomp a hoe boots, he stood extremely close to your apartment door with his arms crossed. His usually wide, puppy dog eyes are now pressed in narrow slits. His normally pouty lips are formed in a hard line, and his jaw is so clenched you could carve an ice sculpture with his jawline.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You called the cops on me? Are you INSANE???" Jungkook shouts.

Obviously he's mad, and despite the amount of times you've gone back and forth he's never raised your voice at you. The old you would have screamed back at him, but over time you've tried to respond to anger with calmness. Also, you were a little scared because this mf is kind of big.

"I already told you if you keep blaring your music at 2AM, I was going to do something about it!" You respond in a hushed whisper, slightly concerned that your elderly neighbors will be even more disturbed by the noise. "I've told you this a million times, and you barely do anything about it. If anything, it's gotten worse like you're doing it on purpose. People are trying to sleep and I'm trying to study, why is this so hard for you to understand?"

He sucks his teeth. "You're such a little snitch. And I've already told YOU that YOU can't tell me what to do."

"I know I can't...but they can," you nod toward the exit, referring to the police officers that most likely just left out that way with a tiny smirk growing on your face.

If it was possible, he clenched his jaw even harder and you think that he's going to pop a blood vessel. He pushes his way into your apartment, which sends you stumbling back and you grab the door handle to regain your balance. This causes you to close the door shut.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're-"

He steps right up to you and leans down into your face.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, seriously??? Why are you such an annoying little brat? Just because you're a nerd with no friends who gets no play doesn't mean you can take your bitterness out on me.”

You have to laugh in his face at this point because hello??? First of all, who is he talking to? Second of all, you have told him a BUNCH of times to turn his music down late at night. You didn't think that was too much to ask. As far as you were concerned, being aware of your noise level when you live in an apartment is the universal bare minimum for being a human being.

"ME? Who do you think YOU are? Actually let me tell you. You're an entitled little rich boy who thinks he runs the world. I don't give a fuck about how popular you are on campus, how many people fall at your feet to be around you, and how many hoes you have, you cant talk to ME like that. And how are you going to try and tell me about myself when it's too much of a task for you to be a decent neighbor? I've never done anything to blatantly bother you, so why can you just.." You started to panic because usually when you raise your voice out of anger, your voice cracks and tears threaten to pool out of your eyes, but you tried to get a grip and not back down..."why can you just be nice to me so we can live in peace? Is that too hard for you???"

He looked kind of taken aback by your question. Being nice to you? It never crossed his mind. Also, you kind of had a point. When the semester started and you both moved in on the same day, you would shoot him a small, friendly smile in passing but you never seemed interested in getting to know him. He always wondered why that was. It's not that he had a problem talking with girls, since all he had to do was breathe and girls would come flocking around him, but you would flat out ignore him. Even at all the major parties at the beginning of the year and on Thursday nights when students take over the clubs in the city, you'd barely even acknowledge him. He KNEW that you had seen him too, since you would make eye contact, but you acted like he was just another guy at the club.

And he'd be lying if he said you weren't fine. You had thick thighs, a beautiful face, nice curves, and always wore outfits that hugged you in the right places. He always wondered what it would feel like to wrap his arms around your body and press it against his own. He would constantly sneak peaks of you throughout the night at the club, but something stirred in him when he saw that you were chatting up other guys. Was he...jealous? Jealous that you were so eager to pay attention to these dudes who, in his opinion, were decent looking but they were nowhere near his level, and you never even gave him a second thought? One night he even saw you leaving with a man he knew through mutual friends, and he had to physically stop himself from breaking the glass he was holding, because that guy, while objectively handsome, was nothing compared to him. Jungkook wasn't blatantly cocky, but he let his talent, charm, and looks speak for themselves. He was THEE Jeon Jungkook, and nothing ever really bothered him....except you.

Was he....interested in you? Nah, that can't be it. You were some random chick who happened to be his neighbor, who also is one of the only girls he's met that doesn't give two fucks about even having small talk with him, and that infuriated him for some reason. So the first time you came knocking on his door in an adorable pink satin pajama set with a matching bonnet complaining about his loud music, he knew the game he had to play.

He's still standing over you, centimeters away from you face, but you notice that his eyes soften a little and so does his jaw. He unclenches the fists he was holding crossed against his chest

You continue, “I don't care what you do, and I'm DEFINITELY trying to run your messy ass life. Believe me," you scoff, "you don't have enough money to pay me to do that. But when your dickhole behavior fucks with MY life is when it's a problem. And it's BEEN a problem."

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever, little girl, maybe I should call you little mouse now, since now I know that you'll go squeaking to the cops now, don't fuck with me or my music again.”

Without moving your head you look him up and down with a confused expression. "Am I supposed to be scared of you? No seriously, you look like you cry during Disney movies while wearing footie pajamas, and now here you are throwing a fit because I forced you to stop bothering the entire wing with your music?"

Girl...what are you saying??? This man just barged into YOUR place, is in your face, and is strong enough to pick you up and throw you, and you’re insulting him? But you figured if he's going to be rude, you'll throw it right back because you're tired of his bullshit.

Whatever softness he was feeling for a fleeting moment immediately left, and annoyance once again washed over. He straightens up a bit and puts on that annoying confident smirk he wears when he thinks he's won arguments between you two.

"You should be nicer to me, all it will take is for me to tweet one thing about you, and you'll be the most hated person on campus."

At this point, any suspicions that you had about him annoying you on purpose were confirmed. You've concluded that this mf is a bully and you, small and shy but not one to take mess, will put him in his place to-motherfucking-night.

You take a step toward him, now crossing your arms tightly against your chest, but he doesn't even move a hair backwards.

"Clearly you need a rude awakening so here it is. I don't know what type of people you've dealt with all your life, always saying yes to you, letting you boss them around and taking whatever bullshit you dish out, but let me tell you I am not the one. Never have been and never will be. Unlike the other fools around here who cream their pants at the mention of your name, I don't care about who you are. You'll respect ME and MY peace as long as we're neighbors, you get me?"

Now y/n, you have never so boldly stood up to someone, where did that come from, babes? You've tried to not let this entitled little boy get to you this whole time, but with him standing in front of you in the middle of your apartment with that extremely annoying, yet handsome, smirk on his face, and after all the crap he's said tonight, he had you all the way fucked up.

After you said that, he just laughed and looked away. Now you’re standing there fuming and confused...was there a joke you missed? You were being dead serious!

"Something funny?" you ask, narrowing your eyes.

"Nothing, just thinking about how I want to face fuck that annoying little mouth of yours so you finally shut up.”

Your jaw almost dropped to the floor. You've never had a guy say something so blatantly rude and vulgar literally inches away from your face. But again, you weren't going to back down.

"Oh really?" Scoffing and tilting your head to the side a bit while narrowing your eyes even more, "I'd very much like to do the same. Maybe then you'll learn your place."

"Oh please, princess, you probably blanch when someone around you even mentions the word sex." He chuckles and leans down close toward your face again and cocks his head to the side, scrunching his nose and in a pouty voice said, "you're fooling no one, but keep trying, maybe you'll get there.”

You're even more annoyed than you were before, if that was even possible. But if he wanted to play this game, you might as well go there with him. It's true, you were a bit more prudent than more, but it pissed you off that he could tell. Regardless, you do know some things to say that could have him leaving with his tail between his legs.

You pouted your lips and in a babying tone said, “Aww sweetheart you have no idea. You think you're big and bad but like I said, you probably cry watching Disney movies. The same way you'd be crying, begging me to let you cum down my throat as I mercilessly toy with your cock for hours.”

Now it's his turn to go pale. Y/n, his stuck up neighbor who has barely even spared him five seconds of her time just threatened to edge him into submission? He has to pinch himself because he must be dreaming....

“Well I-“

“But I don't even think we’d make it that far, hun” you continue, “because in order to humble your egotistical, disrespectful ass, I'm gonna have to ride your face until you suffocate. And when the paramedics come and I have to explain how you died, I won't even hesitate to tell them that you were a punk ass loser who LITERALLY drowned in my pussy!”

You don’t know who this person speaking is, but it is not you. All of the pent up hostility you’ve held towards him just flooded out of you and you couldn’t stop the words from coming out. To be honest you shocked yourself, but you still stood there with your arms crossed and your face unfaltering, just waiting for him to say something smart back.

He stared at you silently, eyes wider than you’ve seen before and his mouth hung slightly open. He wasn’t expecting you to respond with so much fire, but now he wouldn’t be able to sleep until the image you painted came true. His brain said fuck it, and his lips crashed down onto yours. The kiss is sloppy but passionate, and you swore you heard him quietly whimper.

When he feels you starting to kiss back, he smirks into the kiss. Your lips are moving against each other in tandem, and all thoughts about how much you despise the prick fades away. As you uncrossed your arms and placed them on his chest, you could feel his heart beating wildly. Was he as nervous as you were this whole time? You wonder. You knew he was a player, so he was experienced. But the thought that you made him nervous gave you a tiny confidence boost. His hands slowly slide up the sides of your body to sneak behind your back, to pull you further into his chest. As much as your brain was telling you to resist him and push him away, you couldn't help but fall victim to how soft his lips felt against yours. Suddenly you feel airborne as he swiftly reaches down behind your thighs and picks you up. You instinctively gasp but he doesn’t miss a beat, simply biting your lower lip and locking your lips together again.

“Maybe we should test that scenario of yours, and if it comes true, that wouldn’t be the worst way for me to go” he says, doing that annoying but soul-crushingly handsome smirk he likes to wear as he carries you off to your bedroom.

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restlessfandoming · 3 years

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“family holiday” (pt. 1) (chilumi fic)

[SPOILERS FROM 1.1 STORY QUESTS]

Lumine finally arrives in Snezhnaya and takes Childe’s offer of visiting his home (mansion).

(some domestic fluff uwu)

lots of ppl have been asking for more and i love that! tysm for the encouragement and support <3 sorry this took so long to upload, i am trying very hard for all you lovelies ;__;

also this is being split into two parts bc it is a bit longer than my other fics...but i swear im writing part 2 as fast as i can!! i just wanted to post this now so i wouldn’t keep you lovelies waiting <3

[Fic Masterlist]

“family holiday” (pt 1)

“Lumineeeeee!” Teucer shouted as she walked through the door of Childe’s home. He tackled her into a hug.

“Well hello to you too, Teucer,” Lumine greeted back. Just as energetic as I remembered…

“Hey! Paimon’s here too!” Paimon crossed her arms.

Teucer broke his hug and waved energetically at Paimon. “Hi, Lumine’s toy!”

Paimon’s jaw dropped, ready to go on a rant, but Teucer already turned his attention away.

“Big brother!” he cheered, tackling Childe into a hug as well.

“Teucer!” Childe said enthusiastically, picking him up and slinging the little boy over his shoulder before swinging him around. Teucer erupted into gleeful giggles.

“Big brother? Is that you?” a soft voice called. Coming down the grand stairs was a little girl who looked exactly like Childe and Teucer, her long brown hair tied in a half-up crown braid, her large blue eyes like innocent doe eyes. She looked about eight. Behind her, another sibling came trudging down the stairs, scowling, his hair appearing more ginger than the rest of the family; his face had a splattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks, more prominent than Teucer’s. He was a bit older, around 11.

Childe set Teucer down, and smiled. “Tonia,” he greeted her, gentler. He got down on one knee, and Tonia ran down the steps—her white dress flowing behind her—and jumped into his open arms.

“It’s been too long!” she said, her voice muffled by Childe’s shoulder.

He laughed. “It certainly has, princess.” He looked to the last sibling still standing by the stairs. “Come on, Anthon. Come here.”

Anthon let out an exasperate huff, but still made his way to his older brother, and joined Tonia in their embrace. “We don’t have to make such a big deal out of this,” he grumbled, though his arms tightening around his brother betrayed his attitude.

“Looks like we’ve been sidelined,” Paimon muttered.

Lumine tilted her head. “It’s kind of nice to see though…”

Anthon’s eyes flickered to her. “Who are you?”

Tonia broke from the hug, ducking under Childe’s arms to look at Lumine, while still gripping tightly to his jacket.

Teucer bounced over to the traveler, and placed his hands proudly on his hips. “Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Lumine!”

Tonia gasped and skipped over to her, her eyes bright. “Lumine?! Like from the letters?” Teucer nodded enthusiastically.

Childe stood and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yup, the one and only. This is her first time in Snezhnaya, so everyone be on your best behavior.” He gave Anthon a look, to which Anthon crossed his arms.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Tonia and Anthon,” Lumine said. “Your brothers have told me a lot about you two.”

Tonia smiled shyly and peered at Lumine’s face. “Woooow,” she whispered in wonderment. “You really are just as pretty as he said!”

Lumine felt a shock to her system. Childe told them I was pretty?

Childe let out a nervous laugh, quickly scooping Tonia off the ground and ruffling her hair. “Very funny, Tonia! Why don’t we decide on dinner plans, hmm?”

Paimon, after grumbling in the corner about being ignored, perked straight up. “Food?”

“Let’s celebrate brother and Lumine coming home! We should go to the bestest restaurant in the city!” Teucer suggested.

“You don’t want to eat brother’s cooking?” Tonia asked, a bit of sadness tinged in her voice.

“I think that’s a great idea, Teucer,” Childe said. He patted Tonia’s head. “How about we eat dinner at the restaurant, then we can come home and I’ll make you your favorite cake?”

“Yay!” Tonia cheered, jumping from Childe’s arms, and joining Teucer in celebration.

“Anthon? What would you like to do?” Childe asked.

He shrugged. “Whatever sounds good to me.”

“Then it’s settled! Let’s all go get ready then, okay?” Childe said. The children all ran up the stairs, and soon the foyer was quiet once more. The Harbinger let out a heavy sigh.

“Whew! They’re a handful!” Paimon said.

Lumine nodded. “How do they even survive while you’re away?”

Childe chuckled. “Year round I have a dedicated staff of servants and maids to look after them and the house.” (Mansion, Lumine thought.) “I gave them the weekend off while I’m back.”

“You can handle all three of them?” Lumine asked.

“Oh? You don’t think I’m capable?”

“I just can’t imagine you as a child raising type,” she said, recalling their various battles together. How bloodthirsty he could get.

“The battlefield is different,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. He glanced at the stairs. “I’ve been raising my siblings since we were little.”

No parents? She thought of her and Aether. On their own for as long as she could remember, having to explore and learn alone. Except she and Aether were twins; she never had to look after a younger sibling—let alone three.

“Ready!” Teucer announced, bouncing down the stairs.

Childe crossed his arms. “Just your hat? Where are your gloves? Coat? Boots?”

Teucer giggled. “Oops! I forgot!” He raced back up the stairs.

“And you?” he asked, turning to Lumine. “You don’t look ready either.”

“I was okay on the journey here,” she answered. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

He shook his head. “It’s almost dark now. Snezhnayan nights are freezing, even more so during this time.”

“Ahh...well...we didn’t really pack...anything…,” Paimon said sheepishly.

“Paimon I expected, but you, Lumine?”

The traveler crossed her arms. “I’ve been a bit busy.”

He scoffed. “Right, right. Well, we can’t have you freezing to death in the street. I’m sure there’s extra coats around here,” he said, heading up the stairs. “Come with me.”

“Oooo, Lumine, they’re probably super expensive and fluffy! Let’s go!” Paimon said, flying after Childe. Lumine rolled her eyes and followed.

The three passed by the children’s rooms, all clothes being thrown around and excited chatter, before coming to a large door at the end of the hall. Childe’s room. He opened the door and they entered.

It was a grand room—octangular in shape with huge windows and a tall ceiling—large, spacious, and empty save for a large bed, standing wardrobe, and side tables. There was a fine film of dusting covering all the surfaces, and the bed looked like it hadn’t been slept in for a long time. The colors were sparse, only grays, whites, blacks, and the occasional red accent.

Childe opened the doors to the wardrobe, revealing an assortment of heavy winter coats. He pulled one out and held it out for Lumine. “I think this coat is a little older—probably the smallest one I have.”

She put it on, the sleeves running a bit long to her fingertips, the feathered hood obscuring her face up to her nose. Childe laughed, and she stuck her tongue out at him after pulling the hood down. Despite it being old, she could still pick up a faint scent of Childe: a smell remnant of ocean waves and sandy beaches. Unexpectedly pleasant...

“If that’s too big, she can have one of my coats!” Tonia said from the doorway.

“That is very nice of you to offer, Tonia,” Childe said. “But I think your coats might be too small.”

“Oh,” she said. “Well, we’re all ready now, brother!”

The family—plus Lumine and Paimon—gathered back in the foyer with everyone bundled in their coats, hats, and gloves. And then they were on the way to the restaurant.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Lumine, look!” Teucer said, pointing at a large pond. “There are so many fishes!”

They were waiting to be seated in the restaurant lobby. A large, grandiose building, with marbled floors, vaulted ceilings, and gold furniture. There was a large pond in the middle—a miniature waterfall flowed into it.

Too extravagant, Lumine thought. And I thought Liyue was expensive...

“Do you think we could take some fish home to eat?” Paimon asked, peering into the pond.

Lumine gave her a deadpan expression. “Go ahead. I’ve always wanted to see how Snezhnayans deal out punishment.”

“On second thought, nevermind…”

Tonia pulled on Childe’s jacket. “Can we go to the toy store after this?”

“Toy store! Toy store! Toy store!” Teucer chanted.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Childe said. The two children cheered.

“They’re always so loud,” Anthon grumbled from his seat next to Lumine.

“They’re just excited your brother is back,” Lumine said. “Aren’t you excited also?”

“I guess…” He looked at her. “Why are you here anyways?”

How do I explain that I’m on a quest to find my brother after we were banished from our journeys by an unknown god? “I want to meet all the gods of Teyvat.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, right. That’s impossible.”

“Actually I’ve been quite successful,” she told him. “I’ve already met a few.”

“Really?” His brows were furrowed. “What’re they like?”

Venti: drunk. Zhongli: broke. “They’re...interesting. Very powerful.”

Childe walked over to them. “Is he bothering you?” he asked Lumine.

“She was just telling me she’s met some of the gods of Teyvat. Is that true?” he asked, scrutinizing.

“Very much so. She’s quite strong, so don’t get on her bad side.” He gave Anthon a wink.

“Strong enough to beat you, brother?”

“Of course,” Lumine said, standing up. “I’ve beat your brother before.”

“Paimon can confirm that! We kicked his butt!”

For the first time, Anthon’s eyes seemed to light up. “You did? How?”

Childe chuckled through gritted teeth, disguised as a strained smile. “Now, now, Anthon; you seem like you want me to be beaten.”

Anthon frowned. “No, I didn’t mean that.”

“Sir? Your table is ready,” a waiter said, approaching the family.

As Childe went to wrangle up the younger kids, Lumine stayed behind and tapped on Anthon’s shoulder.

“Hey,” she whispered. “Why do you want to beat your brother so bad?”

Anthon shook his head. “You guys have it wrong. I don’t want to beat my brother…” His pale face flushed a bit red. “I just...I want to be stronger than him. So he doesn’t have to work so hard to protect us…” He stopped and watched his siblings sit around the table in the distance. “He shouldn’t be the only one protecting us. I can see it’s really hard work for just him. I want to be strong enough to protect him, Tonia, and Teucer also.”

Lumine’s heart warmed at Anthon’s love for his family. She missed Aether a little more. “I’ll help you.” She put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I know what it’s like, wanting to protect a sibling.” She then gave him a teasing smile. “Plus, I’ve already beaten your brother, right?”

“Right!” He had a little smile as well. “And he’s the strongest person I know! Well...I guess that person would be you now, right?”

Tonia came marching up to the two. “Come onnnnn, let’s go eat!” She grabbed both Lumine and Anthon’s hands and dragged them to the table.

Afterwards, the family enjoyed an exquisite meal, and were all stuffed full of expensive foods and cheerful laughter. (The children were amazed at how much both Lumine and Paimon could scarf down.)

The children, very quickly after finishing their meal, practically teleported to the toy store. As the children ran through the store, Lumine and Childe took the moment of rest, silently watching over them. (Paimon had retreated back into her world to recover from the feast.)

“I don’t know how you do it,” Lumine said. “I had a hard enough time with just Teucer in Liyue.”

“It’s not easy,” Childe confessed. He looked at his siblings softly. “But when I see them smiling and happy...despite everything bad in the world? I think it’s all worth it.”

How nice… His love for his family definitely matched her love for Aether. Something we have in common. She found herself enjoying this time with Childe, and his family, more enjoyable than any time she had been adventuring. It was almost like...she was...back home…

Soon enough, everyone was lined up, toys all selected and ready for purchase. Teucer tiredly tugged on Lumine’s coat, then silently held his hands up. At first, Lumine blinked, not understanding.

“Teucer, just ask her to pick you up,” Anthon said.

“That’s okay,” she said, pulling Teucer up off the ground—now understanding—and placing him on her hip. I think this is how you carry a kid? She didn’t have much experience with kids, save for the few she had met while in Teyvat. And those kids are far from normal... She let out a little sigh of relief when Teucer relaxed, laying his head on her shoulder.

“Are you tired too, Tonia?” Childe asked. She shook her head, tightening her grip on his hand, clutching a doll in the other. Teucer was hugging a hilichurl stuffed animal, and Anthon held an action figure of a Lawachurl.

Upon reaching the toy seller, the old woman at the counter smiled at Childe and Lumine. “You two have such beautiful children,” she said.

Lumine almost dropped Teucer. What?!

“Though I have to say, they do take after their father quite a bit,” she remarked. “A shame, seeing as the mother is so beautiful.”

Before Lumine could explain, Childe spoke. “Yes, what a shame indeed—I completely agree,” he said while smiling.

...WHAT?!

[part two]

#genshin impact #genshin lumine #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #lumine #childe #tartaglia #chilumi #lumichilde #childe x lumine #lumine x childe #fanfic #me

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paterson-blue · 3 years

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Shadow of the Sea: Chapter 1

Summary: Kylo is used to being alone. It's how he's survived this long, in the cold ocean depths. He can take care of himself. Other creatures--other merfolk--are dangerous; he has the scars to prove it. Humans, however, are the worst of all. But one day, Kylo finds he has no other choice but to turn to one for help. The human he meets is nothing like he expects, and all he knows is he wants more. Is he willing to pay the price?

Word Count: 4,394

Warnings: fem!AFAB!reader, plot set up, kylo ren needs a hug confirmed, non-graphic descriptions of violence & bodily harm, brief mentions of blood & wounds, very vague medical descriptions lol, minor character death (happens off screen), oh but there's also one that happens on screen but it's brief, big time ocean nostalgia from your dear author— let me know if I need to add anything else!

A/N: Thank you @paper-n-ashes for beta reading! Icon behavior tbh.

Prefer AO3? I gotcha!

Kylo prided himself on his independence—his ferocity, his ability to fight his way out of every corner. His body was scarred and battle-hardened, but that didn’t matter. It was proof he was a survivor, and it’s not like he had anyone around him to care about his appearance. Most creatures he saw took one look at his massive form and ran.

He was intimidating, all muscle, his fins torn from previous fights. While his skin was pale, his scales were an onyx color; it made blending into the ocean depths easier. He couldn’t understand why merfolk’s standard of beauty was a brightly colored tail; didn’t it make camouflaging more difficult?

He guessed most merfolk didn’t care about that. They lived in large groups, colorful and cheerful and busy amongst other plant and animal life. Not many delved into the cold, murky areas Kylo had made his home. But he’d been there as long as he could remember, and there was no sense in changing things. He wouldn’t be welcome in the warmer waters anyway. They didn’t want him, and he didn’t want them.

So he kept away, and no one dared bother him. Those that did quickly learned not to. He had killed many creatures, and while it was all in defense, his reputation still preceded him. After all, he’d once fought one of the most dangerous predators the ocean knew, and he’d won.

He’d killed a human, after they’d captured him in their net. He’d overpowered them easily, yanked them from their boat into the water; he hadn’t even flinched when their little fishing knife plunged into his side. He’d watched with a furious gaze as the air left their lungs, their pathetic struggling eventually ceasing. Then he’d calmly cut himself loose from the netting. The knife wound had scarred over, but it was just one more to add to his collection.

Yes, Kylo prided himself on his abilities. He had no fear, no weakness; he never ran from a fight.

He was running now.

He’d been foolish. He should have realized why his normal hunting grounds had been so devoid of fish for the past few days—he should have seen the signs, should have been more careful. But hunger makes you desperate; makes you stupid. He hadn’t been paying attention, too focused on the singular fish he’d found.

It seemed to happen all at once. A sudden blow to his head that left him reeling, pain shooting through his skull as he whips himself around in attempts to find his attacker. A searing burn in his side the exact moment he feels a sharp pinch at the back of his neck. His head starts to spin with confusion, the scent of his own blood in the water.

He spots a figure out of the corner of his eye, and his heart leaps into his throat. It was a human, and they had some sort of weapon pointed right at him.

Kylo doesn’t think—he just bolts. They don’t seem to follow him at first, and he doesn’t understand why until he starts to feel the first symptoms of whatever they’ve injected him with. It makes him dizzy, makes his vision start to blur as a sickening metallic taste fills his mouth.

No, he thinks. I won’t let them do this.

He pulls strength from deep within and pushes himself to swim faster, farther. He hears a muffled shout from behind, and oh, they’re pursuing him now.

He swims frantically, skirting around rocks and through kelp forests, desperately trying to lose them even though he thinks he might hear the dull thrum of a boat motor over the thudding of blood in his ears. Kriff, he was so tired. It would be so easy to let the human magic overtake him, to sink to the ocean floor.

Was this death? A dreamless sleep that crept over your senses until you had no choice but to succumb to it? Kylo doesn’t want to die, not like this. Not where they can get to him, at least.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, doesn’t even know where he is until he catches a quick glimpse of a familiar rock formation. His mind is in shambles, drugged and panicked, lacking oxygen as his gills burn with the strain of his labored breathing.

A cove. Not too far from here. Too shallow for a boat, too rocky for humans. A cave to shelter in. Go, swim, fast, now, now, go.

The voice in his head doesn’t feel like his own—it’s frantic, urgent, thoughtless. Usually he was so composed, controlled. The threat of death had turned him into nothing more than an animal; he’s never felt so small.

He ducks and weaves as he swims towards the hidden cove, trying to convince himself he’s doing it on purpose and not just fading in and out of consciousness. If he can just stay awake a little longer, if he can just make it to that kriffing cave, he can die with dignity. Alone and cold, drugged and bleeding, but away from the humans trying to hurt him.

Kylo nearly loses his speed when he breeches the shallow waters of the cove, his mind wanting to shut down now that he’s made it. He forces himself to keep going despite his nausea and lightheadedness. His lungs are screaming, muscles aching; he scrapes his tail against the rocky outcroppings as he searches frantically for the mouth of the underwater cave.

It’s here, it’s here. I know it’s here, I’ve seen it, I mapped it. Where is it?!

His hands snag against an opening, just barely big enough for him to squeeze through, and he darts into it. It��s a tight fit, and for a brief second Kylo is terrified he’ll get stuck and pass out from whatever the humans hit him with—he’ll die, trapped, never to be found.

But then, quick as a flash, he’s through to the other side. The small tunnel opens up into a larger cavern, protected from the elements and decorated with several pools of varying depths. He’d explored it once, curious, thinking it would be a nice place to hide. It was a little too close to humanity for his comfort, but then again he’d never seen this area very populated. He’d figured he’d keep it in the back of his mind for later.

Turns out later was now.

Kylo pulls himself to the edge of the main and deepest pool, looking around urgently through spotty vision. There was a pool in the corner, half hidden by rocks—it looked shallow, but just deep enough to be submerged. Exhaling fast, he hauls himself up and out of the water, coughing and choking as his body tries to adjust from using his gills to his mouth and nose to breathe. It was never an easy transition, and he hated doing it, but right now it was what he needed.

He growls to himself as he pulls his heavy body along the rough stone cave floor, his normally nimble tail a dead weight. If he wasn’t about to faint, he thinks he’d be a bit more graceful. By the time he rolls unceremoniously into the shallow pool, his palms are all scraped up and bleeding. He doesn’t care; barely feels the sting. He’s not really feeling much of anything at this point, head spinning out of control.

Laying like this on his back, head propped up against the ledge of the pool, Kylo gazes up at the jagged rock ceiling. His lungs crackle as he heaves in breaths, heart still pounding loudly. It’s hard to hear anything else, and he wonders again if his attackers are closing in on him. Does it even matter? His dying mind questions. He doesn’t have an opportunity to think of a retort before his body finally breaks, and he succumbs to the drug induced sleep.

—————————————————————

You wake to the familiar sounds of distant crashing waves, whistling wind, and calls of seagulls. After years on the island, the noise was a comfort.

You’d grown up here, in this same cottage by the sea--been raised fishing, hunting for mussels, searching through tide pools. You and your siblings would bike into town to sell your wares at the local market before heading down to the pier to watch the boats come and go. It was a simple life, sometimes a little isolated, but it was good nonetheless. You loved the island and the ocean, and held great respect for them both. If you honor them, they will honor you--at least, that’s what your mother always said.

Your siblings grew up and moved to the mainland, but still you stayed. Got yourself a little apartment in town above the local grocery, worked at the marina as a clerk, and visited your parents on the weekends. When your mother passed, your father followed just weeks later—a broken heart, everyone said. Suddenly, your beloved little slice of heaven—of home—belonged to you.

So you moved back into the cottage you grew up in, a place haunted by the ghosts of memories and the sounds of the sea. If you’re being honest with yourself, you wouldn’t trade it for the world, no matter how many times you pretend to entertain your siblings’ urging to rent the place out. Think of all the money you’d make. It’s the perfect vacation spot.

Maybe so, but you don’t care. You don’t want strangers in your home—not those tourists who come to fawn over the village, who eat up the landscape with cameras without really seeing it, who gawk at the fishermen, who laugh at the prices at the market. They would probably call your cottage quaint and cute. You could picture them tittering over your family photos on the mantle, over the door frame where heights had been marked over the years.

Tourists, who both long for and pity an isolated life on the ocean. Oh, they have it so easy here, away from the stress of the city. Oh, could you imagine living this way, barely scraping by?

No, you didn’t want them in your home, a place so sacred. You didn’t care what money you were missing out on—you got by fine with your pay from the marina, and picking up shifts at the local cafe. You loved your cottage—savored every creaky floorboard, every leaky windowsill. The drip of the bathroom faucet, the howl of the sea wind through the chimney—these were the sounds of familiarity, of safety. No one would appreciate them like you did.

Twisting around in bed, you turn your gaze towards the open window that was letting in a fresh, salty breeze. It was early, the light still dim and grey, the air a little chilly. It makes you want to curl back up under your covers, catch a couple more hours of shut-eye. It was your day off, after all; you could afford to sleep in.

Except.

You sigh, scrubbing your hands over your face as you remember what your yesterday brain had planned. You’d told yourself you’d get up in order to gather mussels at low tide. There were plenty of tide pools around, especially in the caved area of the cove. It was your family’s little secret—the hidden grotto was all but invisible from the outside. The only reason you even knew about it was because your brother had been too adventurous for his own good as a child, always getting into places he shouldn’t.

Mussels, clams, seaweed, probably fish in the deeper tide pools—maybe some sea urchin you could sell at the market. Your stomach growls.

Well, that’s that.

Groaning, you haul yourself up and out of bed, wincing at the cold hardwood on your bare feet. You bounce on your toes, shivering, goosebumps appearing on your skin as you pad over to close the window. Despite growing up here, you were always surprised at the temperature. You stubbornly let in the breeze at night, all bundled up under your covers, pretending when you woke it would be nice and warm.

But nope, not here; even in the dead of summer the mornings were chilly. Sometimes you dreamed that you lived on one of those big, luxurious, heated beaches—hot sun and white sand as far as the eye could see, no craggy cliffs or rocky shores. Eh. You probably wouldn’t like it much anyway, too used to your own environment.

Glancing at the clock, you quickly throw on some warm clothes, half-assing your regular morning routine before grabbing your tide-pool hunting essentials: a flashlight, knee-high waders, a large bucket, and your trusty fishing knife. You take a deep breath at the front door, bracing yourself for the chill. Just think of the feast you’ll have later. And you can reward yourself with a hot bath and long nap.

It’s not too long a distance from the cottage to the rocky shoreline, and while the low tide has revealed the tempting sand leading towards the rolling waves, you head towards the jagged outcropping to the left. Years of following the same path means it doesn’t take you long at all to find the hidden entrance and carefully make your way into the cavern.

In the middle of a sunny day, light shone in through various cracks in the ceiling, glinting off the water and creating flickering reflections against the stone walls. Sometimes you came here just to think, or to take a dip in the largest pool. The water was always warmer here, protected from the full power of the currents by the rock face.

Now, however, it was dark—only the dimmest bit of grey morning light trickled in. You flick on the flashlight, humming softly to yourself. The melody echoes off the stone walls, and you set your bucket down at the closest tide pool, readying yourself to hunker down and get to work. The beam of the light scans the various pools as you turn to get your knife from its holder, and something catches your eye. It’s not much, and honestly if you weren’t so familiar with the cave you probably wouldn’t have noticed the dark shape in the far corner pool.

At first, you do a double take, eyes sweeping over the little red-tinged puddles on the floor. Blood. You grip your knife, mind racing with possibilities. Was there someone in here with you? Surely not. No one ever came out here. Swallowing hard, you take a couple steps towards the corner, torch in one hand and knife in the other. As you get closer, your gaze tracks the diluted blood trail into the pool, and at first all you notice is the black scales and fins of a fish. The grip on your knife loosens just a little, the fear of a possible threat fading.

It's a big animal, you can tell that even as you make your way over, and you wonder idly how it got in. You knew, logically, that the cave connected to the ocean somehow, but you can't imagine the tide being so high for a fish as large as this one to find its way into the back corner. You’re focused on this conundrum as you round the ledge that’s been shielding the animal from your full view--so much so that it takes you more than a couple moments for your mind to compute just what it's seeing.

The tail is thick and muscular, decorated in obsidian scales that lead to delicate looking fins at the bottom. There were smaller, fan looking fins on the sides of the tail--they were all ripped up, as if they had been torn in previous fights. Your brain clocks all of this in seconds but doesn’t dwell, because it’s focused on the top half of the animal--creature--merman.

Merman. A fucking merman.

The ebony scales at the waist fade seamlessly into pale skin and lean muscle, revealing a long, firm torso. If you weren’t so aware of the tail, you might--might--think he could pass for human. Well, except for the webbed fingers and razor-sharp nails adorning each of his hands. He’s half submerged in the water of the pool, dark hair covering part of his face so you can’t see it.

You stand there, frozen, staring, not quite knowing what to do. You weren’t… scared; weren’t even very surprised aside from the initial shock of seeing him. You’d grown up hearing stories, traditions, tales—it was more than folklore here on the island. Some of the elders believed in merfolk more than ghosts, more than aliens, more than god.

Mr. Mackenzie told tales of mermaids luring in his shipmates as prey, drowning them. You always thought they were just stories designed to scare children away from dangerous tides—and maybe they were. But other accounts, you weren’t so sure of.

It was the wonder on Ms. Fraser’s face when she recounted the long-ago memory of swimming along sandbars with a girl who could breathe underwater. It was the quiet reverence of Mr. McDougall’s voice when he whispered about removing an old fish hook from a merman’s tail. It was the tears in Mrs. Buchanan’s eyes when she insisted merfolk rescued her husband from a fishing boat wreck.

You believed them. You always had, even if you’d done it silently, bashfully. You knew those who still made offerings to the ocean and to the beings that dwelled within the depths. Your island community believed in things not seen, but passed down through generations of storytelling. It was your history, kept alive despite first hand encounters becoming few and far between.

Except, here it was—your own little slice of history, right in front of you. If you took a couple more steps, you could reach out and touch it.

Is he breathing?

The little voice in your head brings you back down to your body, and a sudden fear overtakes you. You can’t let him die—if he was even still alive to begin with. You glance nervously at the pinkish trail of blood leading to the pool; the sight makes you reach some sort of resolve.

Hyper-aware of the claws on his hands, you kneel down beside him, hesitating only briefly before you settle your hand on his large bicep. He doesn’t stir, and your stomach twists unpleasantly. Your hand slides down to his wrist, and while you can admit you aren’t an expert on merfolk anatomy, surely you’ll be able to feel a pulse from the spidery blue veins under his pale skin.

Relief washes over you in a wave when you do, indeed, find a pulse—slow, but strong. Okay, not dead then. Still, he doesn’t move, so you take it upon yourself to move his damp hair out of his face, curling it behind his prominent ears.

He’s handsome.

You feel yourself flush, immediately chastising yourself for the thought. This was—best case scenario—a complete stranger who was wounded and in possible danger. Worst case scenario… you didn’t want to think about. Needless to say, it was no time to be thinking about his level of attractiveness.

You force yourself back into action, cupping his head as you hold your hand under his nose. His breathing is steady, and you gently lay his head back where it rested on the rock ledge. Your fingertips brush against something, and you frown as you realize he has a lump on the back of his skull—as if he’s been hit. You can only hope it hasn’t done too serious damage; it wasn’t like you could really take him to the hospital.

Your attention moves down his body, and you make yourself bypass the gills in his neck in order to properly gauge his wounds. Minor cuts and scrapes littered his skin; from the number of scars decorating his form, you figure these aren’t a big deal, no matter how nasty they look. Not compared to the gash on his side, at least.

You wince when you see it, the delicate flesh torn open and ragged. The cut makes you think it’s from some man-made weapon, and you shake your head in disbelief. Who would want to harm a merman? Around here, it would be blasphemous to do such a thing.

Blood no longer seeps from the wound; you hope that’s a good sign—and that the salt water has somewhat cleaned the area. You think it may have needed stitches, but you’re no doctor with the ability to do such a procedure. If you're being honest with yourself, it’s probably far too late for stitches anyway. The wound would be another nasty scar, likely similar to the one marring his face, but the area isn’t red with infection. That’s a good sign, right?

You sigh, feeling helpless. You want to do something for the creature. There’s only one thing you can really think of. Chewing on your bottom lip, you study his face again. He still seems unresponsive, and you can only hope he stays that way a little longer.

The short trek back up to your home feels the longest it’s ever been, and your legs and lungs are burning by the time you rush through the front door, having run the entire way. You heave in breaths as you pack some supplies into a bag. It wasn’t much, but you should be able to use the waterproof gauze and antibiotic ointment to dress the nasty-looking scrapes on his hands and chest.

You hesitate for a moment before going into your bathroom and grabbing the waterproof pillow you had in the tub. Maybe it was silly, but you hated thinking about him lying on the hard ground for fuck knows how long. You almost grab some food for him—maybe the fish currently thawing in your fridge—but you decide not to. You weren’t sure what he ate, and there was no telling when he’d wake up anyway.

Your breathing has just settled back to normal by the time you’re jogging back to the cave, careful not to slip on any of the wet grass and rocks. The sun starts to peak out of the morning clouds, letting pale beams of light warm the grey morning. The cavern is illuminated slightly better when you enter; you find you can lay the flashlight at a distance and see just fine.

The merman is still asleep, and you feel a little relieved. You aren’t exactly sure what will happen when he wakes up—for all you know, you’ll return later in the day to find him gone. As it is, you plop down next to the pool he was in and get to work patching him up the best you can.

Taking the towel you brought with you, you dab at his scrapes, trying to dry them a little before applying the ointment and then carefully using the gauze to cover the wounds. His palms are so torn up that you wrap them completely, your brows knitted the entire time. It must hurt, but still, he doesn’t stir.

Finally, you’re left with the gash in his side. You debate with yourself as to whether you should cover it or not—if you even can. The front of his torso was out of the water with the way he was laying, but that could change at any second, and any real pressure on his body would cause him to sink into the pool.

Your urge to help him wins out in the end, and you decide you’ll try to bandage it to protect it from any further irritation, despite knowing water would seep in regardless. You lean forward, extra careful not to lose your balance as you pat at his pale skin with the towel once more. It’s an awkward angle and slow work, you trying your best to be gentle with him.

You add as much ointment as you dare to the bandaging, not wanting to put too much onto an open wound, before fixing the gauze to his torso with some waterproof medical tape. There. Sure, it wasn’t going to work a miracle but at this point you weren’t sure what else to do.

He’ll be okay, you tell yourself. He’ll be okay.

You take a moment to watch the rise and fall of his chest, reassured by the movement. Your gaze again drifts to his tail in fascination—you hope that, maybe, you’ll come back later and he’ll be awake. Maybe he’ll be friendly, maybe the two of you can talk. It’s illogical, you know. This wasn’t some fairytale, this was real life. You honestly just hoped he didn’t try to rip you to shreds on sight.

It’s with this thought in mind that you shift away from him, telling yourself you can’t sit and watch him all day. You have several other pools to collect mussels from, breakfast to cook, chores to do. You’ve done enough, and you have to trust that his body will do the rest—you refuse to entertain the idea that he might not make it.

Sighing, you pull yourself further away, but then remember the pillow you’d brought along. You grab it quickly before shuffling back towards him. He’s got a large lump of seaweed shoved haphazardly under his head in what you assume was a desperate attempt to soften the rock face underneath.

His damp hair is surprisingly soft when you gently lift his head to clear the ground of debris. You can’t help but run your fingers through it gently, brushing it behind his ears, almost trying to soothe his subconscious. You settle the small foam pillow in place, and slowly let his head and neck rest against it. You hope it makes some sort of difference, though you know it might be a childish thought.

Your task finished, you force yourself away from him once more, even though you suddenly ache to continue touching him. Picking up your things, you continue on your mission of prying mussels from each tidepool. You move slower and quieter than you normally would, shooting the merman furtive glances every few seconds.

By the time you’re finished with the last pool, you can’t find an excuse to linger any longer. He was as safe as he was going to be. The only thing left to do now was wait. You spare your new charge one last lingering look, then grab your things and head back to the house.

______________________________________________________________

taglist friends!

@leatherboundbirate @fathersonandhouseofgucci @paper-n-ashes @direnightshade @jynzandtonic @glassbxttless @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @hopeamarsu @mariesackler @millenialcatlady @sacklerscumrag @peachyproserpina @cornmousequeen @eagerforhoney @icarusinthesea @heartofjakku

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x fem!reader #kylo ren x afab!reader #kylo ren #kylo ren fic #merman!kylo #merman au #multi chapter #tori writes #feedback always welcome & appreciated!

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chicken-fifi · 3 years

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Super Junior Reaction - They Propose to Their Longtime S/O

Requested by anon: Hello! I was wondering if I could request a Super Junior reaction (I think that’s what it would be) where they propose to their longtime s/o? Basically like how they would propose and like where and stuff like that. Thank you!!

Leeteuk: The two of you had been dating for YEARS. Like scratch a hot minute, more like a hot hour. It wasn’t something that either of you were really concerned with. You and Jeongsoo knew that you loved each and fully trusted one another. He probably wouldn’t even realize that you two hadn’t tied the knot. Like seriously, you two are practically married in every way but legally. He’d propose to you at home over a meal - that he cooked. It’d just be a nice, sweet, romantic gesture in the comfort of your home without the hindrance of others...unless the D&E duo decided to materialize out of thin air.

“I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

Heechul: Heechul’s proposal would probably be rather fancy. I’m talking about a 5 star restaurant, filled with people - but also kinda empty? I think that despite being in a public place, he’d keep the proposal between the two of you. He’d just kinda place the box on the table and slide if over to you right before desert and pop the question then. He’ll probably get down on one knee as discreetly as possible because despite how much he wants to shout to the world that you’re - hopefully - getting married, he also values the intimate atmosphere.

“Please don’t scream, but will you marry me?”

Yesung: Jonghoon would end proposing in a more intimate setting. I think that he would however commemorate the event by snapping a quick picture and posting it to Instagram after proposing. The proposal itself would take place during a walk the two of you were on in the park. It’d be in the fall and he’d just kinda spring on the idea of going and enjoying the autumn scenery. While you’re enjoying the different colors of the leaves and pointing out the many squirrels and little creatures running around he’d silently get on one knee waiting for you to turn and face him.

“I want to live out the rest of my days with you by my side. Will you marry me?”

Shindong: Donghee, much like Heechul, would probably do something a bit fancier. A nice restaurant, fancy meal, all topped with a top tier dessert. That is until you said you didn’t want dessert. Nonetheless, a waiter came over with a covered tray, ready to set it in front of you when you went to refuse it saying you didn’t order any. In the blink of an eye, he was taking the lid off and getting one knee garnering the attention of everyone in the restaurant.

“I’ll admit, I was a bit worried since you didn’t want dessert but I hope you’ll want to marry me.”

Eunhyuk: I think Hyukjae might end up proposing to you at a concert in front of all his fans just cause. He loves you, Elf loves you, kill two birds with one stone - except its not a bad thing... Anyways, he’d be very pushy about wanting you attend one of their concerts, begging you to please go and not be a second late. His behavior was strange, you’ll admit that, but it wasn’t like you would try to b late. You’d left with plenty of time to spare and arrived at the concert and enjoyed it fully. Towards the end however, he pulled you on stage and did a little solo number before dropping to one knee at the very end.

“In front of everyone that matter to me, I want to ask you - the person who matter the most one very important question. Will you marry me?”

Siwon: I think Siwon would be one to opt for a more traditional run of the mill proposal. He’d take you out to diner, you’d both have a good time. Afterwards, he’d probably take you down to the Han River - or beach if there was one nearby. While you two are watching the sunset he’ll start reciting a bunch of reasons why he loves you and why you make him happy. You’d be a blushing mess because seems to just have an area of his brain reserved for everything he’s saying. Out of nowhere he’d drop to one knee and pop out the ring.

“Most of all, you’re the person I want to be with for the rest of time. Will you marry me?”

Donghae: I think Donghae would be like Leeteuk and opt for romantic dinner at home. He’d want to make sure this special moment was intimate and comfortable for the both of you. No large crowds, no prying eyes, just the two of you. You’d probably only get through the main course when he began to get fidgety and nervous. When you asked if he was fine he’d avoid the topic and go get your dessert. Just as he went to place your plate in front of you, his hand cramped and it fell, the little chocolate sphere he’d made falling and revealing the ring sitting on the plate with fruit surrounding it.

“Oh my! Ummm! Marry will me you? I mean- Will you marry me? Oh god this is...”

Ryeowook: Ryeowook strikes me as someone who would propose after a fancy dinner. He would get in touch with the sous chef to try and get your dessert to hold the ring. It worked. You were busy fawning over the chocolate sphere and how pretty it looked while melting that you weren’t sure what hit you when you saw the ring appear inside of it. All at once you froze and looked up at him for an answer only for him to take the ring and your hand dropping to one knee.

“Will you do me the greatest honor and marry me?”

Kyuhyun: I think Kyuhyun would also opt for an at home proposal. You two would make dinner together and he’d get started on dessert. The entire time his head would be in the clouds as he thought about every little thing that could wrong with his simple plan. Eventually the two of you were setting the table and beginning to eat. In the middle of the meal, he had enough of waiting and got up moving to knee before you taking you hand in his as he pulled the ring.

“I can’t take this anymore. Will you marry me (y/n)?”

Zhoumi: Zhoumi also strikes me as the guy who want to propose in a more intimate setting. Instead of cooking, you’d both opt for take out - something he was glass you agree to because this proposal heavily depended on takeout. When the food got there, he’d be messing with the box in his pocket as he walked behind you watching as you carefully opened one of the boxes and read the words that were written in a thick sauce. In an instant you turned and he knelt down.

“Will you?”

Henry: Henry would for sure propose at a concert of his. He wants this moment to be around everywhere. He’d mainly want to see your reaction over and over again and what better way than for it to be recorded by many fans and the tour camera. He’d invited you on stage at the end of the show, something he was always did since he loved to hold q&a’s before actually ending it. A fan had jokingly - it was planned, he’d asked the fan for help - asked when the wedding was going to be. You turned to him for help but he was already on one knee.

“I think I need to do this and then we can decide that. What do you say (y/n)? Will you marry me?”

A/N: These were soooooooo much fun to write! I loved it so much! Have a phenomenal day!

#kpop reactions #super junior #super junior masterlist #super junior reactions #leeteuk #heechul #yesung #shindong #eunhyuk #siwon #donghae #ryeowook #kyuhyun #zhoumi #henry lau

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bi-naesala · 3 years

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Cody gets taken care of

The measure of one's worth can't be measured by how useful they are. Despite the work Cody has put into trying to learn this, some habits die hard. Luckily for him, there are plenty of people that care about him and will make sure that he's well taken care of.

(Also on AO3)

Obi-Wan’s having tea in his quarters, enjoying a rare peaceful day on board of the Resolute, when he hears someone knocking on his door.

“Sir?” a familiar voice says. “It’s Waxer and Boil.”

Hearing that, Obi-Wan has the impression that his free peaceful time is about to be cut short. Knowing their troublemaker tendencies, he can only assume they must’ve done something - either that or they need a place to hide from Cody’s wrath.

“Come in,” he says then, already bracing himself.

When the two step inside, he understands that his worries might be exaggerated: they wouldn’t be this calm if they actually did something - especially Boil, who always gets angry at Waxer for dragging him into his nonsense.

“Something’s wrong?” he asks.

“Sir,” Waxer begins, “We’d like to talk to you about Cody.”

“What about Cody?” Obi-Wan asks, slightly worried now. Did something happen?

“He’s doing it again.”

“Ah…”

Damn it.

It’s a habit that, as far as Obi-Wan can tell, Cody has always had: he’d get up, one day, and decide that he doesn’t need sleep anymore, taking a workload of datapads and other jobs in the meantime, uncaring of his personal health.

At first Obi-Wan didn’t think it was that bad, but that’s only because Cody, the rascal, had been smart enough not to work when he was around, but as they’ve grown closer, he’s been able to see just how bad this kind of behavior can be.

It’s a reminiscence of Kamino, captain Rex told him in private once: the damned Kaminiise have drilled inside his brain that he will be sent back if he doesn’t make himself useful, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Obi-Wan would never do something like that, less than anything because he’s not useful enough; he’d never dream about quantifying the worth of anyone just based on something like that, and he knows for a fact that there are plenty of people who share this kind of view.

These last campaigns have taken a toll on all of them; they have suffered terrible losses. Obviously Cody feels responsible for them and feels the need to make amends somehow.

It’s a feeling that Obi-Wan understands well: they both have to deal with it, but he’s not going to let all the work he and the rest of the troopers have done to make Cody unlearn this behavior go to waste, not if he can help it, which is exactly what he intends to do.

He needs to find Cody.

Thankfully, finding him isn’t hard; Obi-Wan expected to find him at the bridge, and that’s exactly how it goes.

Cody isn’t even doing anything at the moment, just surveying everything with arms crossed to his chest, but there’s one particular that feels weird: he’s wearing his bucket, as if he knows his face doesn’t look that great and that someone would come to him questioning his health if they saw it. He must think he’ll get away with it because he outranks all his brothers, so nobody will dare approaching him, but he hasn’t considered that it isn’t so for Obi-Wan, and that he will approach him.

“There he is, sir,” Waxer points out, Boil on his trail. “What do we do?”

“Just be ready to catch his bucket, and keep an eye out while the commander rests,” Obi-Wan replies, turning to the trooper and winking at him. “I’ll handle the rest.”

Despite Cody definitely not being in any condition to sense his approach, Obi-Wan still moves carefully, not making a single sound, then, once he’s close enough, he taps Cody’s shoulder. As soon as he turns around, he immediately snatches the bucket out of his head, tossing it to Waxer, who promptly catches it.

Indeed those are two big bags under Cody’s eyes. He looks like he might pass out at any given moment.

“G-General?” Cody stutters, taken by surprise but such an attack.

“Come on, my dear, let’s go,” Obi-Wan tells him, trying to pull his arm in order to make him follow him - of course, he only pulls just a bit, not wanting to hurt him. “Everything’s taken care of. The ship won’t fall apart just because you’re resting.”

“But--”

Obi-Wan feared that Cody wasn’t going to budge, which is exactly what is happening as the commander has the courage to try and assure him that he’s fine - lie - and well rested - even bigger lie. He needs to do something dramatic, something that will make Cody unable to retort.

He sighs, metaphorically rolling the sleeves of his robes up - if he actually did so they would’ve just rolled down again immediately - and he grabs Cody by the waist, hoisting him up on his shoulder, using the Force to keep himself steady - just because Cody’s wearing his armor, or else he wouldn’t have had any problem at all.

“Sir?!”

Cody’s shouting now, face flushed from the embarrassment - it doesn’t help that a few chuckles are beginning to be heard, only to stop when people realize who exactly they’re laughing at, though Boil seems to be having a hard time keeping his face straight.

“See? Your men will keep everything under control. They’ve got you covered,” Obi-Wan says then.

Despite that, Cody still tries to kick with his legs in order to break free, but he doesn’t manage to do it. It helps that he also doesn’t want to hurt Obi-Wan, so even his kicks are pretty light all things considered.

“Sir, please!” he tries again then, but Obi-Wan doesn’t let him down. Actually, after bidding goodbye to Waxer and Boil, he begins to walk away.

“Obi-Wan! What the kriff?!” Cody tries again, abandoning all sorts of formality.

Still no answer.

Obi-Wan gets halfway towards his personal quarters when he finally speaks:

“If I let you down, are you going to follow me, or are you going to run away? Think carefully about your response.”

What’s even the point of escaping now, Cody thinks: it’s not like at least half the ship hasn’t seen them, and knowing how prone to gossip his own men are, it’s safe to assume that everyone in the galaxy will know about this. He would even be willing to bet that someone must’ve also sneaked a holo picture or two - traitors, the lot of them.

Still, Obi-Wan carrying him so nonchalantly is something unexpected but also not unpleasant. It’s making Cody a bit hot all over, actually.

“It depends, will you give me a head start?” he asks then, smirk on his face that becomes something softer when he hears Obi-Wan chuckle. It’s something that rarely happens as of late; well, that’s not entirely true, but Cody is talking about his real laugh, not the fake one he usually forces himself to make.

“You’re incorrigible,” Obi-Wan says, keeping walking, with apparently no intentions of dropping Cody, who is quickly to try to make amends for his mistake.

“I was kidding! Obi-Wan, please!”

That makes the Jedi stop; he must be considering it. Eventually he sighs, letting down Cody, who stumbles as soon as his feet touch the ground. If Obi-Wan hadn’t caught him, he would’ve fallen.

… Ok, maybe he should’ve kept being carried, but it’s too late for that. His pride wouldn’t handle it if he asks Cody to take him in his arms again, no matter how much more comfortable that would be.

Luckily for him, they’re not too far off the general’s quarters… Wait, the general’s quarters?

“What exactly are we doing, here?” Cody asks, almost panicking. Obi-Wan soothes the worries away by kissing his forehead.

“I’m going to prepare you a bath, getting you all nice and relaxed, then you’re going straight to bed,” he replies.

“A-A bath?” Cody asks, looking at Obi-Wan like he’s suddenly grown a second head. This is new for him.

“Yes, a bath. Trust me, it will help,” Obi-Wan promises as he helps him to his quarters. Baths aren’t something he usually indulges on while he’s on the ship, not wanting to waste this much water, but he figures the rest of the men will forgive him if he does it this time. It’s for their commander after all.

Once they step inside his quarters, Obi-Wan closes the door behind them, locking it. If there’s any emergency, he’s sure they’d comm him rather than trying to get here anyway.

He helps Cody settle on his bed, so he can rest here while he prepares a bath; the commander looks like he’s going to pass out at any moment, and Obi-Wan would rather have him do it on the comfort of a bed rather than on the ground - that wouldn’t be a pleasant experience at all, he knows it.

“Can you manage to stay awake for another while?” he asks, softly, caressing his hair. He can’t help but to smile at the way Cody leans into the touch.

“I’ve managed until now, I can do for a few more minutes,” he replies then. Still, when Obi-Wan pulls away, he can’t help but to be displeased: he was really getting into it!

“Hush,” Obi-Wan mutters, sensing it, kissing the top of his head, “You’ll get your cuddles later, I promise.”

Cody hums at those words, smiling. Yes, he’d like that very much.

Once Obi-Wan leaves his view, however, he realizes that keeping his eyes open is getting harder by the second, especially now that there’s nobody paying attention to him and can distract him.

Still, he tries his best to keep himself awake, not wanting to miss what Obi-Wan’s preparing for him. He tries to focus of the sound of running water then, but if anything that has the opposite effect of the one Cody was hoping it was going to have, causing him to get even closer to falling asleep.

His head slowly begins to fall down, only for Cody to snap to attention as soon as he notices it. If he had free rein to leave, he would’ve gotten himself some caf - Obi-Wan insists on keeping only a tea brewer in his room no matter how hard Cody insists on him getting a caf machine as well - but he doesn’t trust himself to walk all the way to get some. Besides, he doubts Obi-Wan would let him leave the room in the first place.

Thankfully, it’s not too long before he hears Obi-Wan’s steps approaching him.

“Sorry it took so long,” he apologizes, helping Cody up. “Here we go.”

As they step inside the fresher, Cody is immediately greeted by a flowery smell, though he’s not able to discern exactly what caused it.

“What’s this?” he asks then, turning his head towards Obi-Wan.

“The smell?” the Jedi asks. “Oh, just some scented oils I’ve found at the market.”

Despite everything, Cody can’t help but to raise an eyebrow at him. Since when does he go around buying scented oils and such? Well, he supposes anything is better than tea - he already has way too much of that.

“They’re supposed to help with meditation,” Obi-Wan says, but after a pause he can’t help but to admit: “And I was also waiting for a… special occasion to use them.”

Special occasion?

“And you’re wasting them for me?”

Obi-Wan’s gaze softens at those words.

“It’s not a waste if it’s for you,” he mutters, taking Cody’s face between his hands and gently pressing their foreheads together. Cody can’t hold back a smile.

“Alright, then let’s try it.”

Thanks to Obi-Wan, the undressing process is way less sloppy than it would’ve been otherwise - Cody isn’t doing great in the coordination department right now - and once he’s completely bare, he steps inside the tub.

He’s immediately welcomed by a sense of warm torpor that immediately spreads over his body; a happy sigh leaves his lips as he lets the sensation of contentment wash over him like the hot water is washing over his body. The flowery smell is delightful; Cody feared that it would’ve been too much, but it’s actually the perfect amount to be pleasant, not too much and neither too little. Obi-Wan clearly knows what he’s doing.

Speaking of Obi-Wan, he lets Cody bask in the warmth for a moment, before walking to the tub’s edge, sitting on it. He helps Cody clean himself up, massaging the sore muscles with gentle touch; it’s actually getting harder and harder to stay awake, so much that Cody has forgone keeping his eyes open, knowing that it would be a vain effort; besides, he doesn’t need to see now, he needs to feel.

Once Obi-Wan’s done, he pours some shampoo on his hands and he begins to gently scratch Cody’s scalp.

He smiles with tenderness at the way Cody leans into his touch; good, it means he’s beginning to relax: he can clearly feel the tenseness leave Cody’s body the more time passes, and he can be only happy about it. He deserves to feel calm and relaxed.

“You know you don’t have to do that, don’t you?” he asks softly, as if to not disturb the quiet intimate atmosphere around them. Even though he feels he might be ruining the moment, some things just have to be said, or else anything would ever be resolved and Cody would keep acting the same.

“I know…” Cody replies, voice soft as well. After a moment of silence, he continues. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

Obi-Wan begins to wash his hair, watching the trails of shampoo trickle down Cody’s shoulders. Once he’s done with that, he presses a kiss on the top of Cody’s hair, uncaring of the wet hair.

“We all love and care for you. You don’t need to prove anything.”

“I know…” This time, Cody’s voice is weaker. He’s trying real hard not to make it crack, but Obi-Wan can still sense the effect his words have on him through the Force.

He knows Cody has a lot to unlearn and he knows how hard doing something like that is; it’s exactly because of this that…

“I love you, and I’m proud of you.”

A chocked noise comes out of Cody’s throat, then he raises one hand, taking the one Obi-Wan is still resting on his shoulder in order to bring it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on its palm.

“I love you too.”

He helps Cody up from the bathtub and brings him a towel to help him dry off.

It’s good that by now Cody uses to keep a spare set of blacks in Obi-Wan’s quarters, because he hadn’t thought about clothes; to tell the truth, he didn’t think about this too much at all: it’s been more of a following his instincts situation.

After Cody finishes dressing up, they both get comfortable on Obi-Wan’s bed, secured into each other’s arms.

Obi-Wan can feel Cody’s breathing against his chest; it’s getting heavier and heavier. Just as he thinks that he must’ve fallen asleep, however, Cody speaks, or better, mumbles something:

“Thank you. For everything.”

Obi-Wan smiles, caressing Cody’s hair, leaning closer to kiss it.

“No need to thank me, my dear,” he replies, meaning each and every word of it. He’s just doing what is right. “Rest now, you deserve it.”

#codywan #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #sw #tcw #star wars #the clone wars #my fics #mine #clone husband #there aren't enough fics about people taking care of cody and not the other way around #so i plan to fix this

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stxphxn-strange · 3 years

Text

i found the one, he changed my life (what now?) [i’d love it if we made it, pt. 3]

a/n: holy SHIT i am so happy about the way this turned out, this continues the story of college AU!tony dealing with his ex and the pressure he puts on himself to be honest with his friends. (title from “what now” by rihanna) TW: discussion of abusive relationships, mention of surgery, unhealthy/stalking behaviors, and i think that’s it but pls lmk if there’s anything else i should tag

summary: “He’s obsessed with you [...] I think he loves me, I feel certain that he loves me. But he feels some kind of way about you, and it’s creepy,” Bucky elaborated, leaving Anthony at a loss for words.

“It’s a nice day, seasonal allergies aside,” Anthony remarked.

“I would put flowers in your hair and be all cute and shit but I’m trying not to make you sneeze,” Stephen replied. “That would be unfortunate.”

Anthony laughed lightly and rested his head on Stephen’s shoulder. “You can still pet my head though, that would be nice.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re terrible at subtlety?” Stephen asked, beginning to play with Anthony’s hair.

“I think you did this morning,” Anthony replied. “Because you’re obnoxious.”

“Isn’t that why you love me?” Stephen teased, batting his eyelashes.

“It’s one of many reasons,” Anthony said, a soft smile on his face. “It is really nice out though.”

“Listen I know I’m always on time, but can we make an exception today?” Christine sat across from the couple, her auburn hair made extra bright by the sunlight as she pulled it out of her face. “Sorry I’m late.”

“The way that you’re literally not sorry at all makes that apology for me,” Stephen said. “Don’t worry about it though, we’ve just been hanging out. Where’s Hope?”

“Inside, for some reason,” Christine replied with a shrug.

“Probably because it’s allergy season,” Anthony commented, rolling his eyes as he sneezed again.

“He complains, despite begging me to sit outside with him,” Stephen added.

“That doesn’t sound like me, but go off I guess,” Anthony replied, picking up his phone. “Hey Rhodey, what’s up?”

“Are you running errands by chance?” Rhodey asked.

“Nope, I’m sitting outside with Steph and Christine,” Anthony said. “Why, do you need something?”

“I was just going to ask if I could send you a short list of things I wanted. Not a big deal but I’m out of cereal,” Rhodey replied.

“Text it to me anyway, I don’t think I’m going out but if I do I’ll get whatever you want,” Anthony said with a shrug.

“You’re the best Tones. By the way are you feeling better?” Rhodey asked.

“A little bit. It’s nice just sitting outside,” Anthony replied. “I dunno. I’m not thinking about it.”

“Fair enough. Enjoy the fresh air, don’t worry about the cereal though! See you later.”

“Bye Rhodey, everyone say bye!”

Christine and Stephen shouted their goodbyes as Anthony ended the call.

“You good?” Christine asked kindly.

“Yeah, sorta.” Anthony shrugged again. “I just didn’t sleep a lot last night, so that wasn’t fun. I’ve been stressed out about… things. Turns out it actually is weird to have one of your friends dating your ex.”

Christine hummed. “Tea. I thought there was something bothering you, like more than just the awkwardness. I can read you well enough by now. So what’s wrong?”

“Honestly I don’t want to tell you this exact minute because I feel like the only person who should hear this privately is Bucky. I’ll have to see how I feel after I talk with him, and if I’m okay then I’ll probably tell everyone in the group all at once. I just don’t want to repeat the same story over and over again, that’s going to wear me down,” Anthony replied. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh my god dude that’s fine! No stress,” Christine rushed to assure him. “You just seem sad and I want to help but I also don’t want you to make yourself feel worse, that’s not fair to you.”

Anthony breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks Christine.”

“Don’t worry about it!” Christine said.

Anthony sneezed again, not seeing the need to reply beyond that. There was just nothing else to say.

“Let’s go inside,” Stephen suggested. “It’s getting kinda gross out anyway.”

“Oh sorry, that’s because I’m out here. I’ll leave.” Anthony jokingly moved to stand up, laughing raucously when Stephen pulled him into a hug before he even stood.

“Nooo, you’re good! You stay,” Stephen replied. “The sun is out because you’re here.”

Anthony blushed and buried his head against Stephen’s collarbone. “Oh hush.”

Christine stood up. “I may as well go inside while you two idiots keep flirting, now my allergies are acting up.”

“You’re not allergic to pollen,” Stephen remarked, standing up and offering Anthony his hand.

“I’m not allergic to most things, but I’m allergic to your bullshit,” Christine quipped. “I feel like I tell you that at least once a week.”

Anthony laughed and stood up, smiling as he wrapped his arms around Stephen’s waist.

“In all seriousness, you’re cute together,” Christine continued.

“Oh we know,” Anthony said. “How was your day Christine?”

The trio headed inside as Christine thought about how to answer.

“Honestly I don’t think anything even happened today.” she finally said. “Hope and I had breakfast together and I quite literally ran into Carol in the library. It was nice to catch up with her though because I feel like I haven’t seen her in years.”

“Now that I think about it, I also feel like I haven’t seen Carol in a long time,” Stephen said.

“We didn’t talk for too long since we were in the library, but she seems good,” Christine replied. “I think she and Val are still unpacking so they’ve been focused on that, y’know?”

“Makes sense. Props to them for moving in the middle of the year, that’s too much for me. That’s why I’m making everyone wait until the summer,” Anthony said.

“You’re not making anyone wait, you’re just making sense,” Stephen corrected him. “Moving is stressful enough, I don’t want to deal with it during exam season and neither does anyone else.”

“Can I plan your housewarming party?” Christine asked, opening the apartment door.

“Who said anything about a housewarming party?” Anthony replied.

“Wong said I could throw one once you’re all moved in,” Christine explained. “We don’t have a contract in writing yet, but that’s because—”

“Because I never said you could throw us a party!” Wong shouted from the living room. He was sitting in his usual armchair by the window, half paying attention to whatever show Bucky and an all too familiar blond were watching. “Also Bucky is here again, and he brought a friend.”

“Boyfriend,” Bucky chimed in. “We’re going to dinner soon, I just left my jacket here the other day and then I decided I’d introduce Steve to you guys. So yeah, this is my boyfriend Steve. Steve, this is Christine, Stephen, and I think you know Tony. I heard there’s a history there or something.”

Bucky was trying his best to prematurely make the best of an awkward situation, but Steve was the only one who found any humor in what he said.

The offending blond laughed and nodded, his expression unreadable in a way that made Anthony freeze. He was looking with condescension at their entwined hands, like he didn’t approve of Stephen and Anthony finally being together. With an arrogant sniff, he got off his high horse long enough to respond. “I know him and Stephen, actually. You both look good.”

“Thanks,” Stephen replied, his teeth bared in a forced, blatantly hostile grin.

Anthony rubbed at his eyes, tearing up from the situation and his allergies. “Yeah good to see you too, if you’ll excuse me I need to take some allergy medication.” He couldn’t run and hide in the bathroom fast enough, and he knew everyone in the room could see him trembling.

Stephen let his genuine emotion break through his façade for a moment, frowning as he watched Anthony retreat. His steely look of disapproval returned a minute later as he sat down in the kitchen, eavesdropping on the group’s conversation.

“Mind if I get some water? I didn’t get to hydrate as much today,” Steve asked.

Stephen, pretending to be busy, glared at his phone like he was reading a poorly worded email. He paid little attention to the blond as he bumbled around the kitchen, following Wong’s directions on where to find cups and the Brita and other shit.

“So you’ve finally come back to the city, hm? Tony used to tell me about how you both grew up here and how New York never left you,” Steve asked Stephen. He was making an extremely poor attempt to sound friendly, but all he did was make the med student extremely uncomfortable.

Stephen gave a forced laugh. “Yeah, they couldn’t keep me away.”

“Seems like you couldn’t keep yourself away from Tony either, not with the amount of times he cheated on me with you,” Steve remarked.

“Listen, we both know that’s not true and I barely want to give you the time of day. You know damn well he never cheated on you and I don’t have to justify myself to you. After all, you were the cheater. If you think I’m just going to roll over in my own apartment and let you run your mouth like that, especially knowing how badly you treated my Anthony, then you’ve got another thing coming,” Stephen snapped. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Clearly anyone who thinks I’m aggressive and controlling hasn’t met you,” Steve said, closing the fridge and leaving Stephen fuming in the kitchen.

After 15 minutes of ignoring some small talk, Stephen had had enough. Anthony was still hiding somewhere and Stephen was just over Steve being in his apartment. He was trying not to be too angry, because Bucky didn’t know about how Steve and Anthony’s breakup or relationship went. Stephen couldn’t, and didn’t, blame him.

But Steve was a coward and a jerk, and Stephen wouldn’t touch him with an 11 foot pole. Stephen wouldn’t even get close to him to shove him headfirst out the door, actually.

“I’m gonna be in my room studying if you guys need anything, enjoy your dinner Bucky!” He said, waving at his friends in the living room and pointedly ignoring Steve.

“Thanks man! If you want to hang out later, maybe on a double date or something—”

“Oh I’d love that!” Steve chimed in, unprovoked and uninvited.

“Depends on what Ant’s doing, I know I’m pretty busy tonight but if he wants to go out then we’ll let you know,” Stephen said firmly. He heard the bathroom door open behind him and Anthony’s light footsteps in the hall.

“I think I’ll just run to the bathroom before we leave, if that’s alright?” Steve asked.

“Are you asking me?” Stephen replied, ignoring him and heading in the direction of his bedroom. “Don’t you dare patronize me.”

Anthony was standing nervously outside Stephen’s room, staring at the floor. He looked horrified and meek, pressing his back against the wall and hoping he’d disappear out of Steve’s gaze.

But of course he wasn’t that lucky. Sometimes it felt like he’d never truly get away from the way Steve used to look at him and was apparently still looking at him.

Anthony looked up as Stephen gently tapped his shoulder. “Hey… you alright?”

He forced himself to nod, tears still pooling in his eyes from either anxiety or allergies. Maybe both. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just—”

“Oh there you are Tony! Bucky and I are leaving, so I thought I’d say goodbye,” Steve said, lingering in the doorway to the bathroom. “Maybe we could go for a double date later? If you’re allowed to, that is. I always said Strange was a controlling downgrade, didn’t I?”

“Good thing I never listened when you said that, because I’m much happier now,” Anthony muttered.

“Aww, don’t be a bad sport! It’ll be just like the glory days.” Steve appeared to be ignoring his current relationship to flirt with Anthony, stepping out of the doorway and leaning closer (read: too close for comfort) to him.

“I don’t know about that,” Anthony said, his voice taut. “I wouldn’t want to be around you for much longer. Seeing you is already making me think about our… could you call it a relationship?”

“You’re so funny Tony, just as funny as I remember.” Steve sounded like a content house cat as he quite literally purred at Tony. “I miss that humor. I just miss you.”

“I can’t say the feeling is mutual.”

++++

“Not to state the obvious, but I hate that guy,” Stephen muttered, storming into the kitchen a few hours later.

“Is Ant okay?” Wong hadn’t moved from his seat in the living room, except for the fact that he was laying across the armchair sideways and there were three more mystery novels next to him.

“He’s sleeping. Even before all of that shit went down,” Stephen began, gesturing to the air in front of him, “We were outside for long enough that even if he won’t admit it, his allergies are bothering him.”

“How long were you outside for before I came to sit with you guys?” Christine asked.

“Maybe 90 minutes? Long enough to be considered too long,” Stephen replied. “It doesn’t matter. Did you guys eat yet?”

“No, we were waiting on you and Pepper. She said she’d be back by 7,” Christine said.

“What do you want? I’m open to suggestions,” Stephen asked. “I kinda want to make pasta but I know I’m not good enough at it so it wouldn’t make Anthony happy.”

“Don’t be stupid, Stephen. It absolutely would, and you know that,” Christine scolded him. “Do whatever you feel like! And I think pasta sounds nice.”

Stephen nodded. “Fair enough. I’m making ravioli and none of you can stop me. We deserve it.”

“Oh no Stephen don’t do that, don’t make something that you like to cook and that we all like to eat,” Wong teased. “Christine, he’s too powerful, we have to stop him.”

Stephen humorously rolled his eyes. “Anthony is the one who gave me a good recipe, so technically we all have him to thank for enabling me. Except not right now. Let him sleep.”

++++

“Oh by the way, I told Bucky that I’d get coffee with him later and we’re going to talk about whatever the hell happened this weekend,” Anthony said. “Do you want me to bring you back anything while I’m out?”

“Hmm… I don’t think so.” Stephen drew a heart on the back of Anthony’s hand with his thumb, something he noticed himself doing a lot.

Anthony always rewarded him for the gesture with the smallest, shyest smile that Stephen thought was the most adorable thing ever. “Text me if you change your mind, yeah?”

“Okay, I will.” Stephen smiled back at him, lovingly brushing Anthony’s hair out of his face. “Also if I send you a list will you help me decide on a movie for tonight?”

“Not sure you’re asking the right person, but sure,” Anthony replied.

“That’s subjective. I think I’m asking the right person,” Stephen said. “You’ve never steered me wrong before.”

“I hope I never do.” Anthony pressed a soft, sweet kiss to Stephen’s lips. “But knowing you, you’ll definitely change your mind about wanting a tea or something.”

“If I do, I’ll tell you,” Stephen replied, smiling into the kiss. “Promise. Have a good day, and good luck later.”

“I think I’m going to need it,” Anthony said with a little nervous laugh.

“Would a kiss help your luck?” Stephen couldn’t keep a neutral face. “I never imagined myself saying that. Or getting to kiss you.”

“Stop it, don’t make me blush this early in the day,” Anthony replied. “In all seriousness, I love you. And your kisses are magical, who’s to say they aren’t lucky?”

++++

Anthony couldn’t say whether or not he felt lucky later that day, because the only thing he felt was nervous. Bucky looked just as nervous and sheepish as Anthony did, and his internal monologue had already switched to guilt. They exchanged small talk and pleasantries while they waited for their coffee, their mutual discomfort becoming more and more tangible by the minute.

Most people joked that Anthony talked to hear the sound of his own voice, but today he was so nervous he couldn’t hear himself think. He didn’t know what to say or even where to start. Thankfully, Bucky blurted out a question before Anthony thought about how to start the conversation.

“How long were you two together?”

“Two and a half years, give or take. And I didn’t cheat on him with Stephen.”

“I didn’t think so. I wasn’t even going to ask about that.” Bucky smiled, trying to somehow calm Anthony down with his expression. “Who broke it off?”

“Me. Sometimes I feel like I did it a lot later than I should have, honestly.” Anthony shrugged. “I wasn’t ever happy in that relationship. I wanted to be, and I did everything I could to make it work even at my own expense, but eventually I had to end it. I’m happier now, but sometimes I still… I shouldn’t say any of this to you, not if you’re happy.”

“You know what bothers me, though?”

Anthony wasn’t expecting that. “What’s up?”

“I don’t think he’s over you. And that doesn’t bother me in a jealous sense, I’m not like that, but I feel almost used. Especially after this weekend,” Bucky said.

“What do you mean?” That worried Anthony for a lot of reasons, and he couldn’t decide which one was the most important.

“Tony, he's obsessed with you. The entire time we were driving Sunday night he wouldn’t stop talking about you, to the point where it was weird. I started to feel like he used me to see you,” Bucky replied. “One time I showed him a group picture, this was like six months ago, from that time we went out ice skating and ever since then he’s been pestering me about you. I don’t even think it has anything to do with me, if that makes sense.”

“I’m not following,” Anthony admitted. “Not entirely, anyway.”

“I think he loves me, I feel certain that he loves me. But he feels some kind of way about you, and it’s creepy,” Bucky said. “Now as I said it’s not jealousy, I just think it’s a bit disturbing that he’s so hung up on you.”

Anthony nodded slowly. “Yeah, I don’t like that. He didn’t want me to dump him but I had to, there’s no two ways about it. What happened Sunday?”

“We had a disagreement. I told him I felt used and he wasn’t happy about that, but he didn’t deny it either,” Bucky replied. “I was hoping he’d drop the whole thing but I don’t think he’s going to. I don’t think he’s going to ever get over you, honestly.”

“Damn. I’m sorry you had to deal with all of that.” Anthony nervously ran a hand through his hair, fighting the urge to pull at it. “Um… yeah I don’t really know what to think or what to say.”

“Neither do I,” Bucky admitted. “I really want to try things out with him and see how they continue, but I also don’t think he’s going to change. Now that he’s actually seen you, I feel like it’s only going to be more awkward.”

“Oh about that, I’m sorry I didn’t want to go out the other day,” Anthony said. “I was going to try and make myself power through it, but… just being around him for however long you guys were in the apartment was way too much. I got really anxious and just hid in Stephen’s room. And then, on an unrelated note, I ended up sleeping for 14 hours or something.”

“I’m sorry if I was forceful. I didn’t know how to subtly ask if he was making you uncomfortable in the moment, but I could see it,” Bucky replied. “I don’t blame you.”

Anthony shrugged. “Dude I’m at a loss, generally speaking. I don’t know what to say about everything you just told me, but honestly I’m feeling a little sick.”

“Are you going to see Stephen? I’m meeting Christine, so if you want I’ll walk with you,” Bucky offered.

Anthony nodded. “Sure.”

“I really am sorry, Tony. For everything this weekend, and if something I said upset you after your wisdom tooth surgery,” Bucky said.

“It’s not your fault. I’ve been stressing about how to tell everyone about that relationship for too long and the way I felt when I woke up just reminded me of something I still don’t really want to talk about,” Anthony replied. “There’s a lot I’m holding back, even from you, but I’m just not ready to go into all of that yet.”

“I won’t be upset if you tell me,” Bucky tried to comfort him.

“It’s less about that and more the fact that I don’t want to even think about it. I don’t want to think about him,” Anthony said. “I don’t want to hear his voice, or see him, or even hear about him, if I’m being honest. And I feel bad, because I know you love him, but—”

“But you’re my friend, and I care about you. Plus you’re way too polite to be direct when something or someone upsets you and I think that does more harm than good. You just end up keeping everything to yourself, and you don’t have to,” Bucky interrupted. “You don’t have to be a closed book all the time.”

Anthony smiled at that. “Stephen’s said that to me before. I don’t know why, but I like that phrasing. I’m not one to open up in general, even though I trust everyone in our friend group, but this feels like it’s too much to get into the open right now. Someday I’ll be ready, but not today. It doesn’t help that this weekend was honestly too soon.”

“That’s fair man,” Bucky replied. “I don’t have to tell you that Stephen loves the shit out of you, and you deserve that.”

“I could go on and on about Steph probably endlessly,” Anthony said, hiding his face as he blushed.

“Everyone knows that, even people who have never met either of you know that!” Bucky teased. “But honestly, are you okay?”

Anthony shrugged. “Yes and no. I just need time.”

“I understand. And I am really, really sorry about this weekend,” Bucky replied. “Forgive me?”

Anthony shook his head. “Do I need to? It’s not your fault.”

“I know it’s not, but still… I’m sorry. I hope that means something, at least.”

tags: @stark-strange-love2 @taruyison @chocopiggy @majesticnerdynerd @spooky-n-spunky @merlynthedisasterchild @kitkatfat15 @maya-custodios-dionach @katninjagirl97

#tony stark #stephen strange #ironstrange #my ironstrange college au #protective stephen strange #james rhodey rhodes #wong #protective Bucky #james bucky barnes #christine palmer #implied christine/hope #implied valcarol #not steve rogers friendly #implied anti stony #implied anti stucky #ok off to dream about part 4

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oldshrewsburyian · 4 years

Note

if u ever wanna dump an essay about edward fairfax rochester to me...I’m here!

Ahh, you must know how dangerous such an invitation is to an enthusiast! It’s a rainy Sunday evening, I’ve poured myself a glass of wine, and I’m ready to do this. I think Charlotte Brontë is doing and exploring some really interesting things in the character of Rochester, which sometimes get flattened/left out in adaptations. To be fair to the adaptations: he’s still compelling as a Brooding Gothic Protagonist.™

Prolegomenon I: I haven’t read the scholarship on Jane Eyre since undergrad, and I haven’t read The Wide Sargasso Sea since graduate school. I make no claims to particular originality here. And of course, literature can and does hold multiple meanings, etc. etc.; this is my take on Edward Fairfax “Self-Delusion” Rochester. The subfields of Jane Eyre criticism I’m most familiar with/informed by are “Jane Eyre + feminist theory” and “Jane Eyre + ‘early 19th-century debates within Anglicanism, pretty wild, right?’” This should surprise exactly no one who follows this blog.

Prolegomenon II: when I get caught up in my Rochester Feelings in conversation, there is inevitably a point where one of my English-major or -professor friends will shout me down and say “He kept a WIFE in the ATTIC” and I know. I know. It’s inexcusable and I’m not trying to excuse it, and everyone should read Jean Rhys. What I am really interested in doing, though, is exploring Rochester as three-dimensional character, not “man whose bad behavior gets hand-waved aside because reasons.”

First off: Rochester is a man of contradictions. He is a man who is generous to his retainers and his tenants. He is a man who shoulders even social responsibilities that are not strictly his, as we see in the education of Adèle (who might otherwise have died in an uncharitable charitable institution, or become a laundress, or become a courtesan.) True, we meet him as an extremely awkward and fumbling and sometimes resentful figure in loco parentis. But he is trying. I think this is perhaps the key thing about Rochester: what we see him doing for most of the novel, almost always badly, is trying to achieve better (more just, more humane, more equitable) results within a system (patriarchal, economic, colonial) that is rotten at its core. It is not everyone who has the moral fiber of a Jane Eyre, to say “this system is rotten at its core and it is better to starve on the moors or live forever unhappy than to be complicit in it.” The second thing we see Rochester doing, almost always badly, and this is where the contradiction comes in, is trying to avoid his own pain. I’ve intentionally said pain rather than guilt. I think that gets closer to the heart of the matter.

I’m going to get back to my essay in a minute, but an interjection of sorts, before I put the rest of it under a cut: I think it is vital to the novel that Rochester genuinely changes. Justification of this argument and More Emotions below.

For contemporary readers, the concept of repentance as a process may feel unfamiliar, trite, irreversibly sullied by hypocrites. But even if we take it out of Brontë’s extremely Anglican framework, I read Rochester’s profound, unconditional acceptance of his own sin (wrong, if you prefer) against Bertha and the losses which he sees as divine punishment for it as absolutely key to his having a chance at a future with Jane. The concept of divine retribution is surely stranger to us even than that of repentance, but having Thornfield, Rochester’s inheritance, sign and symbol and engine of his patriarchal wealth, built on colonial exploitation, literally go up in flames like the wicked cities of the Old Testament, is Not Exactly Subtle. And, of course, he loses his sight: “If thine eye offend thee, pluck it out.” His sight has been, in the most fundamental spiritual sense, diseased. He has been incapable of accurately seeing his own guilt (which is to say, seeing it in proportion to all other things, the other facts of Bertha’s madness, the duplicity of his family and that of the Masons, etc. etc.) So he loses his sight. And then he gains a much richer understanding of, well, everything. Gradually. Not all at once. I have Feelings about the psychological realism of those final chapters, but let me rewind, as it were. [N.B. I’m not arguing that Charlotte Brontë presents all this as a straightforward Divine Smiting. It matters that Bertha gets the freedom to bring all this crashing down (literally), and that she chooses her own end. But I do think that Rochester reads it as Smiting; I think we need to take that final assertion of his seriously. It’s entirely possible to read the Elm Tree Incident, and indeed that bizarre wedding morning, as Rochester waiting, waiting with pounding heart, for the bolt of lightning.]

I believe passionately in Rochester and Jane as a couple for a number of reasons (so many reasons, all the reasons), but perhaps chief among them is that they are both, bless them, raging romantics who have had very little outlet for their rich emotional life or for their unconventional, erudite, intelligent, exploratory spiritualities. OR (sorry, I forgot one) for their intellectual life, come to that! Rochester with his library full of science and his feelings about moths and Jane who becomes a teacher and genuinely loves nurturing young minds. *sobs* I love them so much. But Rochester is far too ready to manipulate others as he has been manipulated, and as others seek to manipulate him. His treatment of Blanche Ingram, for instance, I read as being several things, in shifting proportion 1) an effort to distract himself from Jane; he has few if any scruples about involving the unscrupulous and mercenary Miss Ingram in bigamy 2) an effort to distract the neighborhood and its gossip from Jane; why, after all, has he been at Thornfield so long without entertaining anyone?? very suspicious 3) an effort to find out what Jane’s feelings for him are. We see her ready to sting him into jealousy at the end too, a nice little bit of symmetry. Rochester is, yes, high-handed in the extreme. But I read the conversation under the elm tree not as a cynical test, but a genuine and painfully awkward attempt to figure out what Jane’s feelings for him really are. Yes, they’ve been having High Spiritual Communion and intellectual discussions and mutual teasing and borderline flirting for however many weeks it’s been. But also: he’s her employer. He’s at least 15 years older than she is (I forget the details on this. 15? 20? anyway, point stands.) He is not and never has been handsome, and he knows exactly how little his wealth counts for with Jane. He’s deeply weird and his house is weird and he comes with a French ward and a mysterious attic and a wife. But does she love him anyway? She does! *cries about it*

Of course, none of this excuses the inexcusable. The proposal-to-wedding sequence shows us Rochester at his moral nadir, in relation to both Bertha and Jane. It also shows him on the knife edge of losing control over his integrity in other ways, now that he has violated this one. (Remember when Jane comes back to Thornfield and says “Reader, I had feared worse; I had feared he was mad”? Yeah, there’s a reason for that.) Anyway, allow me to present excerpts from Chapter 27, which lives in paraphrase in my head at all times:

[W]hile he spoke my very conscience and reason turned traitors against me, and charged me with crime in resisting him. They spoke almost as loud as Feeling: and that clamoured wildly. "Oh, comply!" it said. "Think of his misery; think of his danger—look at his state when left alone; remember his headlong nature; consider the recklessness following on despair—soothe him; save him; love him; tell him you love him and will be his.

Whew! Anyway, she decides not to despite the fact that she and Rochester feel exactly the same way in this moment:

I am insane—quite insane: with my veins running fire, and my heart beating faster than I can count its throbs. Preconceived opinions, foregone determinations, are all I have at this hour to stand by: there I plant my foot.

*sobs harder* I think it is vitally important to point out that Jane is not cold or even, in this moment, convinced by her own arguments. She and Rochester are, moments after this, in each other’s arms, the language of fire and flame used for them both, and Rochester releases her first because he wants her influenced by nothing but her own will; not their shared passion, and certainly not his own force.

...Where was I before I got caught up with the unbearable sexual and emotional tension? Oh yes, Rochester after Jane leaves. He embraces an extremely thorough program of self-punishment. The most obvious course of action for him -- the one that Jane, the person who knows him best in all the world, assumes he has taken -- is to run away from his pain again, to leave England. He does not do that. He does the opposite of that. He refuses to so much as leave Thornfield itself except to roam the grounds at night. I love this book so much. Then, after the fire, which happens only 2 months after Jane leaves, he goes to Ferndean. Now! The only thing we have learned about Ferndean previously is that Rochester refused to have Bertha live there because its bad climate would have (or at least might have) killed her. We learn from Jane-as-narrator that literally no one will rent it, again, because of its “ineligible and insalubrious site.” Rochester has, with heartbreaking obviousness, given up on life. He has, by his own account, been “doing nothing, expecting nothing,” in “ceaseless sorrow... [and] delirium of desire.”

...Edward Fairfax Rochester has never heard of chill. Also, as we learn, though he is worried about his disabilities because he is worried that Jane will mind, and because they make him a less eligible potential husband in his own estimation (*sniffle*), what he has been chiefly preoccupied with for the last year is worrying about where Jane is and if she’s all right. Again: the man has never heard of chill. But his impulses are generous. He is the heir to a rotten and a poisoned inheritance, and he begins by blaming this inheritance -- his external circumstances, both his privilege and the choices that he is pushed into by his father and brother -- for his own injuries and the ways in which he has injured others. But I (obviously) vigorously cling to the belief that he genuinely turns away from this, that he confronts his own sins and repents and accepts that he will not, cannot, be reunited with Jane in this life. But then he is. *cries about it* Moreover, in a key reorientation from his earlier avoidance-and-denial coping strategy, he accepts Jane’s services “without painful shame or damping humiliation.” He un-hermits himself! He and Jane travel to see friends and family! They receive visitors! These romantic-hearted science nerds proceed to be shockingly normal... for their own given value of that. I’m also convinced that they have the kinkiest sex in nineteenth-century English literature, and I support them. And part of their happiness is the happiness of others; it’s the opposite of Rochester’s globe-trotting, radically individualistic conduct in the first part of the novel. Of course it’s more than he deserves; he knows that, and he needs to know it. But it’s narratively elegant, and (I think) deeply satisfying. And I love it. And, obviously, him... again, more than he deserves.

#jane eyre #edward fairfax rochester #was recently reminded of how hard i ship jane/rochester #is a tag that i have #asks and answers #emilydickinsonapologist

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redhoodieone · 3 years

Text

Hate You More

A new fic that I was inspired to write! There will be a Part 2 since this is going to get VERY smutty. Enjoy!

WARNINGS: Language. Mentions a little smut.

I’m a princess. Well, a “bit” of a princess. But that’s not exactly my fault. I’m an only child. My mom and dad always wanted one kid and once they had me they were happy...until they divorced when I was eight-years-old and my dad left somewhere far away. Ever since then, it was always just me and mom, which was never a bad thing.

We were close and got along just fine. Every weekend was our Nicholas Sparks movie marathons on the couch, eating a shit ton of strawberry ice cream straight from the carton, and painting each other’s nails and having her braid my hair and tell me stories of when I was little.

Everything was perfect with just me and my mom...until she married him.

Bruce Wayne.

I never thought my mom would ever want to remarry but Bruce somehow stole her heart and made her fall in love with him.

I didn’t want to blame her for being so stupid for marrying him. I mean, Bruce did treat my mom right. I just hated him so much for convincing my mom to move us into his mansion.

So far away from my first home.

But I know he really loves her, despite being known as a billionaire playboy, womanizing, man whore. After three years into their marriage, I noticed he really cared about me and treated me like his daughter; certainly overprotective and reminding me if I ever needed anything to always go to him.

He even helped me get into GCU. With his help, I’m now into my second year. He’s really proud that I’m a responsible, twenty-one year old college student, and that makes me feel good.

But it hasn’t always been perfect with Bruce. Not only did I get a stepdad, but I got THREE asshole stepbrothers: Dick, Jason, and Tim. They’re the boys Bruce adopted.

Dick wasn’t exactly an asshole. He’s twenty-five years old and he’s always in and out of the mansion. He’s a party animal and I rarely see him unless he’s home for Sunday dinners and for Alfred to do his laundry.

Tim is tolerable. He’s always kind to me, but he’s also a shy and awkward fourteen-year-old. He’s seriously a nerd and he’s becoming an addict to coffee and always being on his computer. But he doesn’t bother me at all.

Not like Jason Fucking Todd.

He’s twenty-one years old and is a complete lazy ass who mooches on everyone.

I honestly hated him the second I met Jason. The second my mom and I moved into the mansion, I had set down backpack on the kitchen counter so I could remove my sweater and throw away the empty bag of fried fast food I had for lunch. The moment I turned around, Jason had jumped up to sit on the kitchen counter and had the nerve to pick up my backpack and throw it to the floor.

“Oops! Your shit was in my spot.”

I had my fucking cell phone, laptop, and picture frames of my family in there.

And that’s how it all started. Jason made it very clear he hates me and I refuse to back down and be nice to him. I mean, the fucking asshole has zero respect for me anyways. All he does is drink, eat all the food, and bring bar sluts home to fuck loudly in his bedroom which is right NEXT DOOR TO MINE!!!

All night and early in the mornings. All I can hear is Jason’s headboard slamming repeatedly against the wall and his bimbos screaming, “Oh God! Right there, Jay! Oh my God, HARDER!”

Seeing him afterwards is worse though. I could be walking to the bathroom or the kitchen and he’d just happen to come by to use the bathroom too, or get a drink of water...only using a sheet that’s wrapped around his waist!

He’d fucking smirk at me and I would try so hard to not look down at his big bulge and thick hard on.

Jason is my stepbrother...only my stepbrother, I constantly remind myself.

But Jason is also an asshole. He may look sexy and taste delicious but his one unattractive flaw is his behavior.

And I’m not one to sit back and let assholes walk all over me. I do get back at Jason quite a bit; enough to piss him off.

Today is one of the days I decide to have a big appetite. After my shower, I run downstairs only wearing my comfy pajama short shorts and a black tank top. I remember Dick is at his own apartment and Alfred is away in London on “holiday” as he calls it. Entering the kitchen, I see Mom making breakfast for us: pancakes, bacon, and sausage.

Bruce is sitting at the kitchen table, drinking his coffee and reading on his cellphone. Tim is drinking a cup of coffee (maybe 5th refill?) and eating pancakes and some sausage.

“Good morning,” I say to all of them.

“Good morning sweetie,” Mom replies with such a warm motherly smile.

Bruce grins at me. “Good morning, Y/N.”

All Tim does is nod his head to me and continues to eat.

“I’m starving,” I say and already fill my plate with two pancakes and some bacon and sausage as well.

I take a seat next to Tim and dig in. Ace, Bruce’s dog moves closer to my feet and looks up at me for some food. Fucking puppy dog eyes...I sneak a few pieces of bacon to him.

Mom eventually sits down with hers and Bruce’s plate. He smiles lovingly at her and the two kiss.

It’s a calming morning. Everyone’s eating and just enjoying the silence...until the asshole comes into the kitchen.

Jason literally has no shame. He comes in only wearing his black boxers and has very cute bed head. Stop it, Y/N. He’s completely shirtless. Not even acknowledging he’s in the kitchen, Jason quickly makes a plate for himself which he only puts three pancakes and like two handful sizes of bacon.

I silently growl and tighten my hand around my fork as I’m stuck looking at his bare, muscular upper body. His arms look strong. He’s just...all muscle. All man.

But then I remember he’s a fucking asshole and I hate him.

As if he can feel my eyes on him, Jason quickly glances at me and smirks. He actually fucking flexes his muscles for me.

I immediately look down because I just know my cheeks are red like tomatoes. God, does he have to be so attractive???

“Good morning, princess,” Jason taunts me, after greeting everyone else, obviously. He sits directly in front of me with that shit eating grin. “Did you sleep well last night?”

I glare at him. Fuck him. “Yeah, I did. You know very well that I can’t sleep peacefully unless you bring a whore home and fuck her until she’s blue in the face, Jason. I mean, when it’s so quiet at night, I just can’t fall asleep! It’s impossible! It’s like I HAVE to hear you fuck just to go to sleep!” I say sarcastically.

“So, you do listen to me when I fuck my girls, huh? Is your sex life nonexistent that you have to get yourself off on others who actually get off?” Jason jokes and shoves a piece of bacon in his mouth. “That’s pretty pathetic, even for you, Y/N. At least Tiny Tim here watches internet porn. Maybe you should start getting yourself off with that instead of listening to me fuck.”

“Jason...” Bruce warns. “Don’t even start this morning.”

“Start what? I’m not even doing anything,” Jason says. He raises an eyebrow at me and keeps that fucking smirk on his face.

“Leave Y/N alone, Jason,” Tim butts in.

“Quiet Timbers. Let the princess tell me off. I love it when she gets all red and pissed off.”

My mom glances at me with a serious look, too. Why is she giving me that look when I didn’t even do anything?!

“Aw, there’s sausage?! I didn’t know there was sausage up there!” Jason whines. His eyes dart from my plate over to my mom and Bruce.

“I actually served the last few pieces to Bruce. I’m sorry, Jason,” my mom apologizes. She frowns and looks down at hers and Bruce’s empty plates.

“That’s all right. I see there’s still five uneaten sausages on Y/N’s plate,” Jason says and smirks at me. He looks down at my plate and back up at me. “You’re not going to eat them, are you princess? Because if not, I want them.”

He’s fucking teasing me. Jason is mocking me with those green eyes and that fucking smile that wets every girl’s panties. It’s like he actually believes he’s going to get away with this. He really thinks he’s going to get what he wants. Jason slowly reaches a hand towards my plate to get my sausages.

I want to burst his cocky bubble in front of everyone.

“Actually...I’m going to give them to the dog. And by dog, I mean Ace,” I say, quickly grabbing all the sausages in my hand and feed them to Ace under the table. “You see, I don’t feed dirty dogs like you. Ace is a clean, loyal, and sweet dog. You on the other hand are a dirty, disgusting, slut who fucks anything with a hole.”

My sudden outburst startles everyone at the table. I see everyone’s wide eyes and open mouths hanging in shock at me.

Jason chuckles lowly. His eyes are full of anger and hatred for me. “What did you just say to me?” he asks.

“You heard me,” I reply with the same tone. “Unless you lost your hearing due to all the screaming from the banshee skank you brought home last night from only God knows where.”

“You know, you’re starting to sound like a jealous bitch. For someone who has claimed to hate me and not want anything to do with me on multiple occasions, you seem to be really obsessed about my sex life,”

“Oh please, don’t flatter yourself,”

“Y/N stop,” my mom says.

“You think I’m flattering myself?! I’m not the one who always checks myself out! You know, I always see you staring at me right?! If anything, you’re flattered by me!” Jason snaps.

“ENOUGH!!!” Bruce shouts.

We’re all silent but Jason and I continue to stare each other down.

“I’ve had enough of the two of you fighting! It’s old and it’s seriously ridiculous. It needs to end now. Your mother and I are going to leave for Spain tonight, and I don’t want to hear anything bad about the two of you while we’re gone. Now, apologize to each other,” Bruce says.

“Apologize to the princess? For what?! She’s a fucking bitch, who’s always bitching, and she’s basically the biggest bitch who ever bitched!” Jason yells. “She should apologize to me!”

“If I’m a fucking bitch then that makes you the biggest asshole here! You’re literally the most disgusting, disrespectful, lazy ass guy I have ever met! You have NO respect for anyone who lives here! Why should I fucking apologize to you?! All you do is drink, eat all the food, and bring random whores to our house and force us all to listen to you have sex!” I yell back.

“Our house? You think this is your house, too? I hate to burst your “bitching bubble” sweetheart, but this isn’t your house! You’re extra baggage that had to be dragged here! Your mom was wanted here; not you. As far as I’m concerned, you’re not even family!” Jason yells louder than before.

My bottom lip trembles uncontrollably. I feel tears running down my cheeks. I need to get out of here before I completely break down in front of Jason.

“You’re such a fucking asshole, Jason!” I choke out.

I quickly jump out of my seat and run up the stairs. After I slam my bedroom door, I throw myself down onto my bed and cry. I can even hear Bruce screaming his head off and tearing Jason a new one.

——————————————————————————

I wake up to an empty stomach. Rolling over onto my back, I rub my eyes and yawn. It’s dark in my bedroom; indicating it’s already nighttime. I reach for my cellphone on my nightstand and see it’s already eight o’clock.

I must have been really exhausted to have slept the day away. Those days usually happen after I cry a lot and feel like shit.

Mom and Bruce are probably already gone. Their Spain trip is only for the weekend. I’m seriously glad about that since I don’t know how I’m going to get through the weekend with Jason still around.

Maybe if I’m lucky he’s already at the bar and picking up skanks. That means I have time to eat and a few hours of silence for myself.

I decide to go downstairs and I instantly notice all the lights are off except for the kitchen light. Slowly stepping into the kitchen, I see it’s empty and that there’s a big box of pizza and two drinks; a bottle of beer and a glass of orange juice with the bottle of Vodka next to it.

Raising an eyebrow in question, I look around to see who did this. Noticing the back sliding door is open, I walk over slowly to peek out.

Jason.

On the phone and sitting at the patio table.

He doesn’t see me but I can hear him clearly.

“Do you think she’ll really like it?”

#dc comics #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd #batman

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killerhatcanons · 4 years

Note

Could u do a childhood friends hc with Trapper, The Shape and Ghostface?? 🥺🥺

Of course my friend! uwu

So we can imagine most of Michael‘s and Trapper‘s childhoods but I don’t think Danny has much of a background lore going as far soo I‘d personally also put him into a difficult household (even though I wish it were different) I also think I’ll put this one into a text form

TW: idek what to tag this with but I’m guessing abuse/domestic violence

The Trapper (Evan MacMillan)

Evan had always in a way idolized his father and his father had never deemed anyone worthy to get close to his son. Needless to say Evan didn’t have many friends at all when he was young. The other children were scared of his father and the stories their parents had told them about the MacMillan family. They were gruesome, as much as a parent would allow their child to hear but enough to ensure they would never want to get close to the MacMillan child.

You had always thought it was unfair. It wasn’t Evan’s fault that his dad was mean and you didn’t want him to sit alone over something he wasn’t responsible for. So you approached him and you kept approaching him even as he tried to push you away. He knew about the stories and he himself knew very well that his father wasn’t the kindest person. Time and time again had his father hit him for not following his orders, had thrown away his sketches and sent him to bed on an empty stomach as a punishment. He understood why others feared his father and he didn’t blame them. Even though he loved his father, he also despised him. He knew no one but him would endure his father’s punishments so when the tiny you approached him he tried his best to push you away. You were far too fragile, you couldn’t get close to him or his father.

But you didn’t care. No matter how many times he rudely sent you away you always returned. And as time passed he felt himself slowly growing fond of you. You were nice to him, the only person that made him feel warm and he didn’t want you to leave him anymore. He wanted to keep your kindness, to keep the warmth you made him feel through the utter coldness he was accustomed to. So he allowed you to stay if only for a while which soon became longer and longer.

You played together in elementary school and he would protect you from anyone that even attempted to bully you. Or ask you out for that matter. He soon had to realize that he grew more and more possessive of you, that he didn’t want anyone to take you away from him. You had been with him since the beginning, had shown him kindness and understanding, had been there for him and took care of the bruises his father kept giving him. As cheesy as this sounded you had been his sun all along, naturally and selflessly giving him warmth without ever being asked to. His one and only friend.

Shit I might need to turn this into a fiction maybe? haha we’ll see

The Shape (Michael Meyers)

Michael had always been the silent child in your kindergarten group. First everyone thought he was just a little shy but you soon realized that he simply refused to speak. Of course your teacher tried to convince him to talk, even had a meeting with his parents but they assured that he learned speaking, however at one point simply stopped any form of communication. To the adults he was a hopeless case. They tried desparately to change him, but he wouldn’t budge.

To you he was a welcome friend. You didn’t mind his silence, you knew he was listening to you and you could still play together. Well, it was mostly you telling him what to do with the toys, because he himself wouldn’t do anything besides holding them in his hand, but that wasn’t much of an issue to you.

Of course you tried to get him to play with your other friends too, but his lack of enthusiasm often got in the way and the other kids got scared of his silent and emotionless behavior. However, even when they told you to, you refused to stop playing with Michael. Yes, he was a little odd, but that didn’t make him a bad child (killing his sister later lowkey did tho oop) so you didn’t want him to be alone. Everyone needs some company, right?

Over time you noticed, that he would remember what you had told him to do with the toys, instead of simply holding them, to which you would give him a big smile.

This improvement you saw in his behavior made you even sadder when one day he stopped coming to the kindergarten. At first you had thought he was sick, but weeks went on without a single trace of him or his parents.

Upon asking you own they had told you he was sent to another kindergarten instead, that was specialized on children like him. You were sad of course, but you accepted it, hoping he would find more friends to play with now.

You only later found out he was sent to an asylum instead of another kindergarten.

The Ghostface (Danny Johnson)

Danny Johnson did not have the nicest childhood imaginable. After her divorce his mother didn’t become directly abusive to him, more so the alcohol.

He liked to think that the slurring woman bruising him wasn’t his mother, that it was simply someone else, someone more aggressive trying to be her. He didn’t want to think his mother hated him, he didn’t want to believe she would bruise him, would shout at him and blame him for what had happened to her marriage.

Even as a young boy he knew to cover his bruises. He loved his mother, he didn’t want her to be alone even though the woman the alcohol brought out of her hurt him in every way possible. But it was his fault right? His dad didn’t want him so he left him and his mother. He was responsible and the least he thought he could do was let her let out her pain on the person responsible for her misery.

In school he didn’t talk much to anyone. He was a rather shy kid, not wanting to cause anymore trouble for anyone. At lunch he sat alone, but he didn’t mind. He also didn’t mind being called weird or gross for his greasy long hair or the bags under his eyes. Not that he wanted to talk to anyone about himself anyways. Not even to you as you approached him.

You had watched him sit alone for a long time. He looked sad, restless, sometimes even scared and despite not even knowing him, it hurt you to see anyone in this state. So you went to talk to him. However, it took a while for him to stop avoiding you as best as he could and he eventually opened up to you a bit. He still didn’t tell you about the abuse until you reached middle school, but when he did you were determined to help him, to clear his understanding of him not being responsible for anything and to get him a new home.

With the help of your parents you were able to get him out of his household and soon find a acquainted family that was willing to take him in. The Olsens tried their best to provide him with everything he needed. And while you knew it would take time for him to heal, you were relieved he was part of a loving family now, that would help him back onto a safe track.

You couldn’t have known that the damage to Danny’s brain had already been done and there was no way of saving him from the twisted prison of his own mind.

OOK THESE ARE WAY DARKER THAN YOU PROBABLY WANTED BUT I OOP GOT CARRIED AWAY

I can attempt to make it more wholesome a second time if you want these were just the most logical things that came to my mind haha... honestly idk but I usually think that someone isn’t just yk born a killer (except Michael maybe pfft) so I came up with some uhm logical upbringings to the boys haha yeet..

Anyways I’m considering turning the Evan and Ghosty one into their own separate story thingsies. Kinda hard to do something with Michael bc uhm Psychiatry but possibly something with a reader that’s also in treatment or we pull a Harley Quinn sometime who knows!

For now I hope you aren’t too mad that this was so... dark instead of cute oop >:)) if you’re mad just let me die on the hook next time pffft

#evan macmillan #evan macmillan x reader #the shape #the shape x reader #the trapper #the trapper x reader #trapper #trapper x reader #michael meyers #michael meyers x reader #danny johnson #danny johnson dbd #danny johnson x reader #dbd killers #dbd #dbd headcanons #the ghostface #the ghostface x reader #pre-entity

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calitraditionalism · 3 years

Text

Arc Three: Chapter Eleven

(AO3 counterpart here.)

The silence continued into the dawn. No one got much sleep after Littlepaw’s vision. They were all afraid that they would be next.

Laurelclaw tried his best to stay positive, he really did. He pulled up as many hopeful, happy thoughts as he could while standing guard outside of Littlepaw’s den, ready to jump in and shake her out of another nightmare at the drop of a feather. Flyfang had tried to tell him to rest, but there was a silent understanding between the two that neither of them was going to sleep again when Littlepaw was at risk of falling back into whatever horrible space she had been in. Flyfang had conceded and gone into the den to be closer to her half-apprentice. When Laurelclaw glanced in occasionally, she was curled around Littlepaw’s tightly balled-up body, watching her with exhausted fear. He couldn’t blame her.

It wasn’t just that which made him fail to keep a happy image in his head. All of his happy images were of his family, the Plage – his mother, father, goofy deputy and snarky former mentor, among all the others, walking together, sharing jokes, watching the waves of the ocean rear and collapse, stretching their foam as far as it could go up the beach. The sense of companionship and confidence. Security in their strength as they stood together.

All of it suddenly felt so pointless, in the grand scheme of things. So temporary.

Laurelclaw fought against the dread that came with every reminder that his family was not going to a happy afterlife. He failed to keep it down. It soaked into his chest and stomach, sticking against the walls of his insides, making him sick. He shivered with nausea many times throughout the night.

The sun barely made it through the thick canopy above the makeshift camp. Laurelclaw hardly noticed it was daylight until Flyfang emerged from the den and shook out her fur. She wordlessly went off into the woods, tail dragging on the ground after her.

Everyone was awake and outside, sitting uncomfortably in silence, before Flyfang returned, carrying prey. Beetlefoot went with her to retrieve everything else she had caught, but there were still no words exchanged. They all formed a ring again and picked listlessly at their meals, nibbling without tasting.

Laurelclaw was absorbed in his own thoughts, but the tension eventually became too much to ignore. He followed his urge to say something.

“You know…” he started, and winced when everyone looked at him like he had shouted. “Imagining everyone’s reaction to all of this, it’s… it can be a little funny, I think.”

Silence. Every face was baffled. Laurelclaw internally berated himself and tried again.

“It’s just me thinking about my mom, really,” he said while fighting off shakiness in his voice. “She’d- she would want to go to sleep and find StarClan and fight it to the death herself. She’d leap at the opportunity. But my dad, he’d run. He’d take the entire family with him – the whole Clan, probably – and flee as far as he could go. He was always a little timid like that.”

The silence calmed a little. Laurelclaw could see the others considering their own families.

“I think…” Flyfang’s eyes lifted up towards the treetops, contemplating. “I think the Marish would panic. My sisters, maybe they wouldn’t get it. They’d think it’s some monster from a story, something easy to beat on your way to becoming a hero. It’d be exciting for them.” Her voice lowered a little, tightened. “I’d prefer for them to think of it that way.”

Surprisingly, Beetlefoot spoke next. “I know the Fleet would all follow Redheart’s idea to get the entire Clan out of the Territory, if they could. Though everyone where I was born is… rather traditional. They prefer the aspects. But they still cling to them going to StarClan for their ‘good behavior’ and ‘righteous worship’. If they knew that all their praying and piousness meant nothing, they might just fling themselves into the river. Leap into the mouth of the beast. Get it over with as soon as possible.”

Laurelclaw looked at Beetlefoot, a little startled. It was the most he had ever said about himself. That tiny, weak cynicism in him remarked wryly about how of course it was unhappy and dour, coming from Beetlefoot. He told that part to hush and be nice.

“My mom wouldn’t believe it,” Littlepaw said, a bit muted and flat. She wasn’t looking at anyone. “She’d find every excuse under the sun to reason it away as a mistake or a lie.”

“Hard thing to convince anyone about,” Mistface said.

Laurelclaw couldn’t help some desperation in his voice. “Isn’t there anything we can do? We could warn everyone, right? Spread the word?”

Redheart sighed, more in a world-weary way than in annoyance with him (thankfully). “I’ve wanted to run around the Territory and tell everyone the truth so many times, Laurelclaw. But the Runagate’s been doing that for generations now, and they’ve barely gotten anywhere. We’re not the first ones to know about StarClan. We probably won’t be the last.”

“I don’t know how much we could do, anyway,” Greyleaf said. His claws were deeply sunk into the soft ground. “Who would believe a deputy on the run, and who would believe a healer, of all cats?”

“But Littlepaw-“ started Laurelclaw, but Redheart shook her head.

“She’s not a seer anymore,” she said. “And so many of our actual seers are fooled, StarClan can easily lie to them and call us insane. Littlepaw got lucky with the Runagate visiting her and StarClan trying to talk to her again, it seems.”

“‘Lucky’ is a real subjective word,” Mistface remarked. “Ain’t sure how lucky it is to see what y’all see.”

“About as lucky as bearing witness to a murder when no one else was around, I suppose,” Beetlefoot said darkly.

“You aren’t wrong.” Greyleaf looked down at his paws and carefully retracted his claws, grimacing. “It’s a stroke of incredible fortune that any of you believed us to begin with. I mean…” He looked to his brother. “You didn’t at first, right? Even you?”

Mistface gave him a non-smile. “Thought you might’ve been crazy for a minute, yes.”

“And he’s my brother.” Greyleaf turned back to everyone else. “The thing is that, yeah, you all believed us, but you’re a smaller group with at least relatively open minds, and it still took a second to win you over. Telling a much larger crowd, or a couple of strangers you’ve never spoken to before, that’s going to be a lot harder to convince.”

“That’s the trouble with all of us,” Darkpelt said suddenly. “I’ve noticed it in my line of work. Cats like to follow along with the crowd because it makes us feel more secure, like somehow more cats means more logical thinking and correct choices. And we cling to any line of security we can get. If you were told a horrible truth, and someone in your group said ‘that’s nonsense!’, you’d be inclined to believe them. It’s safer for your sanity.”

“Then how did we all believe it?” Flyfang, despite her words, did not sound argumentative. She looked more puzzled than anything.

Darkpelt shifted to tuck her front paws underneath her chest and she shut her eyes. Her tone became contemplative. “For me, at least, it just makes sense. I’ve always believed that nothing is impossible, given how real StarClan seemed all my life. And the connections between Redheart and Greyleaf, especially the nightmares, made me far too curious to just pass them off as insane and leave it at that.” She opened her eyes and turned her head in Flyfang’s direction. “Like I said the other day, they have a completely bonkers story that no one would expect to be believed, except a nutter. But a nutter wouldn’t also have the story make sense if one stops to think about the logistics of it.”

“And you believed based on that?” Mistface asked, eyes half-closed as he regarded her doubtfully.

“Better reason than just a blood connection,” Darkpelt said, with a jaunty nod at him. “You’d believe Greyleaf if he told you he was Derecho in physical form.”

Mistface, surprisingly, did not react with his usual flat irritation. Rather, he looked amused. “It’d make more sense for him to be Gelid, with everything about Gelid’s inevitability, relating to what we know now.”

“You’d make a better Gelid than me,” Greyleaf said.

“Or Brume,” Beetlefoot muttered. “Slow and fluffy as you are.”

Mistface gave a breathy laugh, and with that the air of the ring loosened and relaxed. Appetites returned, everyone now eating properly and with a little more enjoyment of their food. It was quiet again for a while, until Beetlefoot spoke up, almost quiet enough that Laurelclaw didn't hear him.

“You know, Brume and Gelid used to be the same aspect,” he murmured.

Littlepaw perked up immediately. “I thought I heard something like that when I was a kit. Who were they?”

Speaking a little louder and, rather nicely, almost friendlier, Beetlefoot looked at Littlepaw. “They were called Rime. He was the aspect of ice and fog, once. He split into two a long time ago. The Brae still pray to him, though, as if he hasn’t been halved.”

“That doesn’t make much sense,” Flyfang said. “How could he still exist and be two different aspects at the same time?”

“Nothing the Brae do makes sense.” Beetlefoot shook his head. “They’re reclusive idiots.”

“Sounds like the Marish,” Flyfang said, almost nostalgically. “I had to peal out of there when they had their backs turned. They don’t want anyone leaving or coming in.”

Mistface swallowed a mouse tail. “Y’all got more problems in your families than they’re worth, if you ask me.”

“Your brother is on the run because he’s immune to a monster's visions,” Flyfang said, giving him a sarcastic head tilt. “Don’t you talk on family.”

“He’s kind of right, though,” Laurelclaw offered. “I love the Plage, but they can be a lot to handle. They all keep pushing me to be a patroller in the Fleet.”

Littlepaw lifted a paw to hide a smile. “They’ve met you, right?”

“I say the same thing.” Laurelclaw sighed a bit dramatically, for humor’s sake. “I’m just good at taking hits, that’s all.”

“You would not be a good patroller,” said Beetlefoot. “They’re all eager for a fight.” He paused, considering. “Though you cut an intimidating enough figure. You do have a chip in your ear.”

Laurelclaw lowered his head, a little embarrassed. “That was just an accident in my assessment.”

Littlepaw could not hide her smile now. “Have you been in a single real fight at all?”

“…No.” Laurelclaw’s ears (including the chipped one) started to burn, but Littlepaw’s laugh - quiet and small, but genuine - cooled them down again. Flyfang shook her head in mock disappointment. Even Redheart smiled.

There was a lull in the conversation again, but it was nice now – Laurelclaw could see everyone’s relief at the lightening of the mood as they exchanged friendly glances or started grooming their fur. Mistface and Greyleaf were talking in low voices to each other, and Greyleaf seemed calm for once.

“AH!”

A collective jump and the crew all looked at Darkpelt. She had shot up into a sitting position, her eyes huge even compared to her normal wide-eyed blind stare. Her tail stood straight up, fur sticking out like a fox’s.

“Something wrong?” Flyfang ventured when nothing was said.

“StarClan’s visions.” Darkpelt’s head twisted this way and that, like she was seeing something they couldn’t. “Greyleaf has been immune to them his whole life, and Littlepaw can see through the veil. ‘Through the veil’.” Her head turned in Redheart’s direction. “That’s what the Runagate told you. That was the specific wording.”

Redheart haltingly answered, confused. “It was, yes.”

“Littlepaw, Greyleaf, neither of you believe anymore, if you ever did.” Darkpelt looked between them. “As soon as you knew the truth, StarClan couldn’t work its magic on you.”

Littlepaw’s face fell. She seemed to be recalling the memory of her nightmare. “Yes. The field I always see was dead, and then it fell apart.”

“Is there a point to this?” Beetlefoot's head was craned a bit forward and his eyes were narrowed like Darkpelt’s were whenever she was concentrating.

“I don’t know yet.” Darkpelt lowered herself down again. “But it’s important. I can feel that. We have the veil and the knowledge of immunity. That’s all based on belief.” She squinted hard. “Belief. That’s going to be a factor. Keep that in your heads, everyone. We’re going to need to think.”

Laurelclaw didn’t know what to say. Thinking was not his strong suite to begin with, but this incredibly vague command to 'keep belief in his head' was already beyond him.

“Um…” He tilted his head, forgetting for a moment that Darkpelt couldn’t see him. “What does that factor into?”

“Haven’t the faintest,” Darkpelt said. “We’ll just have to wrack our noggins and see. Think hard, everyone. Think harder than you’ve ever thought in your lives. Our home and Clan depend on it.”

Redheart regarded Darkpelt with some puzzlement, but eventually she gave a small sigh. “We can do that. I hope this is going somewhere.”

“It is.” For the first time since they’d left the Clast, Darkpelt smiled broadly. “I promise.”

#warrior cats #arc three #steorra #chapter #chapter eleven #littlepaw #darkpelt #mistface #greyleaf #laurelclaw #beetlefoot #redheart #flyfang

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rebelsandtherest · 4 years

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America and Intrusive Thoughts

Headcanon time!

Many thanks to @theameribros who suggested I post my hetalia headcanons, and to @historihet who has endured my very long headcanon messages for weeks/months now. Y’all are very nice to me! Onto the headcanon. This gets a little dark and discusses violent intrusive thoughts, so content warning on that.

Alfred struggles quite a bit with intrusive thoughts.

Of course, intrusive thoughts are something that everyone deals with at some time or another, but for Alfred it’s a constant background noise. Deep down, he knows it is one of the unseen scars he carries from the Civil War. He remembers very little of the war itself, as he was out of his mind for most of it. By the time he had a handle on himself in 1865, the intrusive thoughts had already started. As far as he can figure, it’s a consequence of his people having such incredibly different views and desires. Not just about politics, but about life, family, religion, language, geography, what a ‘home’ means, what’s most important in life, etc. All nations struggle with this push and pull, especially around civil wars, but for Alfred, it is not a seasonal issue. It’s never-ending, and it only grows worse as the borders expand and the population grows.

He learns to live with it. He’s able to tone out the thoughts when he needs to. Nevertheless, he acts on his thoughts more than most people would. Most of the time, his thoughts are fairly innocuous, and thus when he actually follows through with them, onlookers (including friends and family) chalk it up to Alfred’s impulsivity and the fact that he is, despite being centuries old, a five year old at heart. Some examples:

“I wonder what would happen if I fit this entire package’s worth of marshmallows into my mouth. Could I manage to eat them all like that?”

“What if I just ate this pizza slice backwards to freak people out?”

“What if I used this sharpie to draw the entire Declaration of Independence onto my arm like a tat sleeve?”

“I could just pretend like I don’t speak English to get out of this meeting.”

There are some thoughts that are a little more dangerous. These are thoughts that usually earn him eye rolls or shouts of “No, Alfred, what are you doing?” right before he does them anyway:

“I bet I can make that jump and catch the ledge of the building.”

“That dead tree is huge! Let’s climb it and see if it’ll fall over.”

“You know, it’s been a while since I’ve fallen into a frozen lake, I can’t remember how cold it actually is. Let’s jump in.”

“What if I just threw my phone out of this plane? What would happen to it? What kind of damage would that do?”

“I’m 90% sure I can punch this without breaking my bones. Let’s give it a shot!”

Once again, most people around Alfred chalk these up to his relative immaturity and, often, a measure of stupidity. Alfred seems to revel in his reputation among the other nations for his antics and his childish behavior. He laughs about it and teases others for how they react to his stupidity. He talks a big game about being fearless, and what with the dangerous stunts he ends up pulling, everyone is willing to believe him.

Virtually no one realizes that his behavior is a lot more serious than impulse control alone. Alfred chooses to act on all his harmless intrusive thoughts so that he can reserve his willpower for the really bad stuff. When the violent or disturbing thoughts hit, he does occasionally voice them out loud just to hear himself say it, recognize how awful an idea it is, and move on with his life. He also occasionally voices them out loud to others, or rather, to his brother. Matthew is the only person who’s heard Alfred’s darkest impulses. He’s also one of the few who realizes that Alfred’s “impulsive idiot” reputation is a cultivated persona that he uses to hide his mental struggles.

Matthew has been privy to a lot of dark thoughts over the years:

“If I just started walking into the ocean, how long do you think I’d make it before I drowned? Do you think Nations sink or float? What’s the record for number of times drowned in a row?

“Okay but like, what does hemlock taste like, though? How much does it take to kill a person?”

“I could just rip that [person, animal, etc.] in half, you know.”

“Have you ever fallen off a mountain? I never have. I wonder what it’s like, you know? Coming back from that.”

“You ever wonder how many times nations can die before we don’t come back? I wonder if anyone’s ever found out.”

And so on.

Matthew is, of course, very disturbed by the dark and morbid tone that his brother’s thoughts can take, and does whatever he can to talk Alfred out of acting on them. Alfred always lets him, and seems eager for the help. He’s come to learn that Alfred very rarely wants to act on any of the ideas he has. Even the small, silly stuff is rarely things that he actually, actively wants to do. But like a persistent itch, the thoughts are always there, and occasionally, he needs to scratch to satisfy the craving. When he knows he can’t scratch, he talks about the thoughts so that someone else hears him say it, and reminds him why it’s a horrible idea.

For this reason, Matthew gets more concerned when Alfred doesn’t act impulsively on the small stuff, and stops telling Matthew his darker thoughts. His imagination runs wild. How bad of a thought does Alfred have to have to keep him from telling his brother? What, if anything, is going to be the breaking point where he acts on a bad impulse? What will be the fallout? Will it permanently hurt Alfred, or someone else?

To Matt’s knowledge, Alfred has never acted on anything truly heinous that would harm himself or others. But at the end of the day, that is the persistent itch that Matthew has to resist scratching at too hard, or else he’ll never stop: Alfred has never acted on his darkest thoughts, that he knows of.

But sometimes, on the bad days, he wonders.

#impulsive thoughts #aph america #aph canada #dark themes #dark #cw: death #cw: intrusive thoughts #na bros #alfred #matthew #hc #headcanons #hetalia #hws america #hws canada

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goosewithasaxophone · 3 years

Text

Attack On Titan seasons 3+4 Spoilers (and 1 if you haven’t started it or gotten halfway thru it yet)

EVERYONE LISTEN UP OR DONT IDC BUT I JUST FINISHED EPISODE 8 OF AOT AND I HAVE AN IRRELEVANT HEADCANON THAT HELPS ME FALL ASLEEP AT NIGHT

Levi says to the kids (i guess they’re not kids anymore 😭😭😭😭) “Don’t die on me” and i just AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA it got me thinking how fuckin TIRED THIS POOR MAN IS of LOSING HIS FRIENDS

he lost his mom as a young child, his squad in s1, Kenny, Erwin and almost Hange (TOO CLOSE MOM TOO CLOSE) in s3, now Sasha in s4 ??? he needs a BREAK !!!!!!!!!!!!

so here’s my headcanon that i think about nonstop ☺️☺️

Levi is alone in his office after they return from the fight between Eren and the other titans. Sasha is put to rest with her things gathered and folded nicely on Levi’s desk to return to her family (are they alive ?? whatever i don’t remember).

He’s sitting at his desk writing a letter to go with Sasha’s things when they’re given back to whomever. Hange walks in, she’s exhausted. They both are. She stands in his doorway watching him. He tells her to come in, his tone gruff and assertive and his voice low and tired. His eyes are dark, even under the light of the lantern on his desk, shedding a low warm glow around the little room.

Hange steps closer and stands behind him where he sits, reading over his shoulder at the letter he’s writing. Beside it, she sees another letter, in fact, it’s a small pile of letters. Each paper has his scribbly writing inked and smudged and aged. She glided her fingers across the sides of the top page in the pile, trying to read them under the dull light. She sees the name “Erwin Smith” appear several times in several variances throughout the letter. Her heart twinges at the heartfelt words in the letter. Underneath that one she searches for other names in the other letters. She sees Petra, Oluo, Eld, and Gunther throughout the other pages.

By the time she finishes reading final letter in the pile she snaps back into the moment and notices Levi writing more aggressively on Sasha’s letter. His pen is taking the pressure from his hands and almost tearing through the paper. Hange has to place her hand on his wrist before he goes too far. He resists and tears a hole in the paper.

“Fuck,” he curses aggressively under his breath. Hange is about to say something, she opens her mouth to try to say something, anything that will reassure Levi that the tear in the page is nothing to fret, he can write another copy. But she knows she can’t say that because his words are authentic and to write another copy would be replicating a feeling already felt. That’s dwelling in the past and Levi doesn’t do that.

So she says nothing, and instead places her hand on his back. If she presses her palm flat against him she can feel his breath grow shallow and rigid. His breathing becomes audible.

Levi does not show emotion. He stares straight ahead and speaks monotonously no matter the situation. He uses his actions as expression and displays loyalty through his behavior.

Unless he’s alone with Hange.

Moments pass and Hange thinks he’s pulled himself together, so she takes a step back. Just as her fingertips lift from the man’s back he slams his fist on the desk and drops his face into his hands. Hange swoops down and throws herself over him like a protective blanket. She snakes her arms around him as far as they’ll go and squeezes tightly.

Levi curls forward from within her embrace and continues to try to control his breathing. He’s failing, they’re both aware, and neither say a word. It’s not until Hange realizes he isn’t going to immediately pull himself together that she takes another action. Shuffling her feet until she’s directly in front of him she brings her arms underneath his and raises him so he’s standing. She can hold him much closer this way.

“Fucking shit,” he sobs. Despite the lack of context Hange knows exactly what he’s talking about. It translated to “Why do I keep losing people?” She says the only thing she can think to say in the moment.

“Not me,” she whispers, feeling her own tears begin to sting her eyes. “Never me.”

“You were too close,” he mumbles. “Don’t ever fucking pull some shit like that again, he growled, remembering back to the sight of her being slammed against the trees, the sound of her voice shouting in pain as she hit the hard surfaces on her way down after her gear failed to suspend her. “That was too fucking close.”

Hange chuckles weakly. “I’ll do my best.”

“No you won’t. Your wreckless ass can’t stand not being at the center of danger.”

“What do you expect, that’s how we learn about things. From the center of them.”

“You’re fucking stupid.”

“I know.”

He brings his arms around her waist and pulls tightly. She knows he doesn’t mean the things he says. She knows he doesn’t think she’s intellectually stupid. He just doesn’t want to lose her too.

“You’re not gonna lose me, but I can’t lose you either, okay?” she said, trying to take a more encouraging turn. “I can’t handle those stupid kids on my own. Someone’s gotta be around to kick the shit outta them and keep ‘em in line, okay?” He nods against her chest and keeps his face buried in her.

It’s late evenings like these, when they return from some sort of mission, after Levi has changed out of his bloodstained clothes and Hange has restored her messy ponytail and everyone else has settled in for a long awaited rest, that Levi finds himself emotionally more vulnerable. It’s late evenings like these that when Hange is around and they’re alone, he can let himself be vulnerable. She’s his closest remaining partner.

It’s the pile of letters on his desk, never sent out, only ever growing with every additional squad member’s death, that Hange sees Levi’s true colors in. He’s not the cold, distant, abusive caption that everyone fears to anger lest they experience his wrath. He’s the damaged, healing, fragile captain that is so goddamn determined to keep his squads alive because every single time a member dies, another small piece of him dies with them. When the kids came into the picture he had never felt a greater weight on his shoulders. Every boy containing Farlan’s eyes and every girl containing Isabel’s, though no one saw it but him. He had to keep these stupid, wreckless, impulsive kids alive, because if he didn’t, who would?

But now the kids weren’t kids anymore. They were growing up. They were maturing. They were seeing things that toughened their skin and their hearts. They were taking control of their lives and realizing the real important things in life.

Levi was glad he could see them grow up and become wreckless adults instead of their old wreckless selves. But it also scared him, because he used to be that fresh new wreckless adult. And now he was the only one left. Him and Hange.

And that’s why he puts up an emotionless front. Because he and Hange are the last two left. The kids may think they are on their own, but Levi keeps an eye out. He watches and observes and takes pride in their enthusiasm on the good days and stays quietly sympathetic in the defeated hope on the bad ones. He’s watching because he cares so much. And that is what makes him so afraid.

Anyway that took me a half hour to type out because the more i thought about it while writing it the more developed it got. So there’s my big detailed headcanon, probably some misinformation in there but that’s because i don’t always understand what’s going on in the show and i’m far too behind to start the manga now. hope y’all enjoy and can suffer through the rest of the season along with me <3

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yuusa · 4 years

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𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝟐

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟓𝟎𝟗𝟓

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝟐:

You twirled your pen in class while the teacher continued lecturing, your journal still in your close grasps as you occasionally write your routine and schedule as usual. You noticed that on the side, Tohru would also get distracted by your pen spinning and sit there admiring you. You only ignored her gazes and continued to stare down at your own work. You had already documented yesterday’s encounter with Yuki. There were moments where you would sometimes peer into the old pages and reread the written notes. You doodled a small rat character on the title of the entry, seemingly to remember the main event.

As you dozed off into your own world, Yuki had turned his head to the side and silently watched you from afar. For someone who had been closed off since the beginning of school, you were still one of the more academically gifted students in the class without any help from other students. He narrowed his eyes as he thought about his idiotic cousin at the thought of academics. He placed the weight of his chin onto his hand as he watched you doodle in your notebook.

Sometimes you would place the pen’s end at the tip of your lips as you thought about the lecture your teacher had given you. Yuki would occasionally glance at his work and back at you, thinking about what you had discussed yesterday afternoon.

For a second, he almost thought that you had understood him.

He frowned as he stared hard at his work. You were so quiet and throughout the day, you made it extremely hard for him to get a chance to talk to you again due to the awkwardness. It was. . . Really uncool of him. He wished he was as cool as everyone else, they seemed so laid back and easy-going while he is too busy thinking about the possible scenarios that would ruin his day.

While Yuki was staring at you, Tohru was also watching him with a confused expression. At first, she thought he was looking after her because the two of you were in the same general direction, but on closer inspection, it looks as if he was admiring you from afar. She could feel the hearts dance around her head as she thinks of the growing romance between you and Yuki. She was so caught up in the moment she accidentally covered her mouth with her hands and squealed which caught your attention.

“Umm. . . Honda-san, are you okay?” You whispered, the teacher still going on with her lecture in the background.

“Y-Y-Yes! I’m sorry!” She shouted, causing the entire class to stare at her. You deadpanned at her lack of awareness, was she really this air headed?

“Honda-san, (L/n)-san, are you trying to get afternoon duties?” The teacher turned around with an angered expression, she gripped onto the chalk with enough force to snap the tip off. She already had to deal with one troublemaker in that one particular group, specifically a carrot-headed cat person. She seemed so tired of Kyo’s roughhousing behavior that you just feel pity for her.

“N-No! I’m so sorry!” Tohru panicked as she started to bow several times in front of the class as they stared in awkward silence. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It’ll never happen again! I’m sorry!”

“You’re both on cleaning duties today!”

“E-Ehh?! I’m sorry!”

You sighed and placed your head down on the desk in exhaustion. You wished the day was over already.

You wiped at the windows with a towel and a bucket of soap and water, your brain wanting nothing more but to simply go home and sleep after such a long day of school assignments. Although you generally had enough strength and energy to soar through classes such as physical education, the amount of workload given to you has been weighing you down.

"(L/n)-san. . . I’m sorry.” Tohru was crying comedic tears as she swept the classroom floor, her hair tied back with her hands occupied by the wooden broom, “it’s my fault you’re here after school with me. . .”

You turned to her with the towel still in your hands, “no, it’s okay. I started the conversation after all.” You squeezed the towel after dipping it into the bucket of water, “it just seemed like you had an issue with something I did.”

“N-No! I was just wondering. . .” She scratched her cheek as her cheeks began to turn a blush color, “if you were one of Yuki’s friends. . .”

“What makes you say that?” You asked.

“It’s just that. . . In class he was looking at you as if he knew you, s-so I thought you would be one of his friends!” She laughed as a way to distract herself from spilling the actual truth, “you guys just look very cute together!”

Tohru mentally screamed as she gripped onto her hair and panicked violently, just as she thought she was getting over her aloofness the words slipped out of her mouth, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to assume, I’m sorry! Please forgive me (Y/n)-kun!” She screamed once more at her big mouth, she was so used to calling everyone by their first names that she got caught up in the moment.

You turned your head away from her to cool down the rush of blood towards your face. This was the first time someone had addressed you by your first name, it was really embarrassing. You shook your head violently and slapped your cheeks, trying to focus on the moment and not be distracted.

“Honda-san, you don’t need to apologize over every little thing, if you want to call me (Y/n)-kun that’s fine.” You dried your hands off with your handkerchief before walking towards the board to clean the surface, “Sohma-san and I met only yesterday.”

“O-Oh! U-Um. . . Then you can call me Tohru-kun!” She gave you a friendly smile and continued to wipe at the floor. She peered outside the window to see that the sky had already become orange, signaling that they had stayed late enough. She spun back to your figure which was still wiping the top of the board clean.

“A-Ah, it’s getting late outside (Y/n)-kun, um. . . Do you want to come over to our house for dinner? Y-You don’t have to go to if you don’t want to! You already have so much work! I-I just thought it would be really late for you to walk home. . .” Tohru tilted her head downwards, her eyes slightly glossy in embarrassment.

You paused for a few moments. You didn’t have much to eat at home and although you were confident enough to walk home in the dark, you felt that it would be rude to turn down an invitation from someone like Tohru. Despite getting you both in trouble, she was very kind and generous. Although you were a bit skeptical on the idea of joining another classmate for dinner, you didn’t have much choice as you didn’t have anything at home to eat.

“Okay.”

Tohru’s mood seemed to brighten immensely at your response, “really?!”

“Mhm.” You finished wiping the board and cleaned your hands a second time, “I don’t have a lot to do at home anyway.”

Tohru squealed in excitement before quickly finishing up her side of the duties and you both headed to the exit of the school. You noticed how joyous and aloof Tohru could be, she would skip around when she was happy which seemed to be most of the time. She was a very nice person you concluded.

“(Y/n)-kun, um. . . Do you live alone?” She asked.

“Oh, yes.”

“Ah! Then I hope you don’t mind the other guests in the house too!” She smiled with the same flowery and happy aura around her.

“Other guests?”

“Yes! I live with the Sohma family since they were really kind to take me in. . . S-So I hope you don’t mind coming over still!” She waved her arms around as if to express her nervousness, you wondered why she seemed so adamant on bringing you over for dinner.

“That’s fine Tohru-kun, you shouldn’t worry about it too much.” You pulled open your journal from your bag and began to write into the pages.

“(Y/n)-kun, can I ask what that book is for?” You hummed at her question.

“It’s a journal for me to keep track of my thoughts.” You lifted the contents of the pages to show her, “I write down my schedule and what happens every day.”

Her eyes sparkled in admiration as she scanned through the page. Everything was neatly written and they even had little doodles sprinkled throughout the pages. She noticed that you had a strong love for drawing flowers and birds as they were in almost every other sentence. Despite your quiet and standoffish nature in class, she realized how cute your inner personality was.

“They’re so cute! You have very pretty handwriting (Y/n)-kun!” She praised you to which you responded with the slight blush of your cheeks.

“I-It’s not a big deal. . .” As the two of you approached the gates, your eyes met with Yuki’s, the two of you standing in front of each other in shock while Tohru stood in the middle between you.

“A-Ah Honda-san. . .” Yuki didn’t expect the two of you to be walking home together, it was surprising, to say the least. “N-Nice to see you again, (L/n)-san.”

“O-Oh. . . Nice to see you too.”

There seemed to be slight tension in the air, Tohru thought. She sweatdropped at the sight of you turning your head away from Yuki as your cheeks were still a slight pink color. He seemed to be doing the same as well. Tohru only chuckled as she guided the two of you into walking home together.

“How did you guys meet?” She asked.

“We met at the library after school when you were all playing the card game,” Yuki answered, to which you nodded.

“Does that mean you two are friends?!” Tohru squealed, the same heart aura dancing around her as you stood there confused.

“A-Ah, I don’t know if we could be considered friends.” You scratched at your cheek nervously. “We just met yesterday after all.”

“I wouldn’t mind being friends with you, (L/n)-san.” Yuki responded, his smiling face still there as Tohru stared at him shocked yet excited nonetheless.

Your eyes widened at his statement but nervously bowed in front of the two, “Er. . . I-I would like to be friends too. . .” This was quite unexpected.

Tohru grinned happily, slightly over joyous by the idea of having another friend at school to talk to. You were quite nervous despite being quite intimidating at school, something which Tohru admits to being a bit scary.

“Sohma-kun, did you know that (Y/n)-kun has a really cute journal?” She piped up.

“Is that so?” Yuki smiled at her as you glanced off to the side.

“Mhm! She has really cute drawings! She drew a rat on one page, it was super adorable!” Tohru continued to gush over your art while Yuki only gazed at you.

Was yesterday an event caused by fate? Was he simply dreaming? It seems too unrealistic to believe that the day after he met you, you would have already befriended Tohru and coming over to their house. For a moment, he felt slightly threatened by the idea that you could advance so quickly into his life but he shook his head, it was rude of him to assume that you might have ill intentions when he knew nothing about you. Similar to Yuki’s thoughts, you had your own skepticism regarding Tohru’s extreme kindness to invite someone she barely met over to her house, it felt a bit too good to be true.

“L-Like I said, it’s not a big deal Tohru-kun.” You huffed.

“You guys seem friendly.” Yuki grasped onto the handles of his bag, “did something happen at school?”

“I asked (Y/n)-kun if she wanted to come over for dinner since she lives alone.” Tohru responded, “o-oh! I accidentally called her by first name too. . . “ She scratched her cheek as she recalled the previous event. Yuki hummed in acknowledgment.

As three of you were approaching to the Sohma household, you could see your orange-haired classmate sleeping on the roof. You questioned whether or not this act was normal, but considering his cat-like behavior, you believed this may be in the range. You sighed as Tohru and Yuki made their way to the door. You felt a bit out of place in this household, they seemed so traditional and your apartment was a bit run-down. Tohru gestured for you to come inside and you started taking off your outdoor shoes to leave by the doorway.

You turned your head to see a tall man with darkened hair wearing a dark green traditional outfit. You sweatdropped at the sight, you felt really out of place here. Tohru guided you to the table in the center as Yuki took a seat at the end of the table.

“Um (Y/n)-kun, since we came back from school and dinner will be ready in a bit, you could stay and do homework here while you wait. A-Ah, this is Shigure-san! He’s the owner of the house.” Tohru waved her hand over to Shigure who gave you a kind smile.

You bent your back over to bow towards him, “thank you for having me in your home.” You straightened your back but sat on the floor with your knees close to your chest. Shigure raised an eyebrow at your way of seating but only smiled.

“(Y/n)-san was it? How are you doing at school with these three?” He pointed at Yuki, “is it fun? Are they rowdy? Have they caused any trouble?”

He was quite blunt for someone you just met, you thought. You pressed your lips together as you thought of an answer. In all honesty, you barely met any of them and this was your first time putting effort into making some new friends.

“. . . It’s fun. Sohma-san is a really kind person, and I’m lucky to have been invited by Tohru-kun.” From behind you, Tohru was listening to the conversation while making each of you a cup of tea.

“What about Kyo-kun?” Shigure asked.

You gave a closed eye smile, “we don’t talk, but I hope he doesn’t mind me staying for dinner.” You’ve made eye contact with Kyo in class by accident, but the two of you had always stayed apart from each other.

“You talk so formally! Just like Tohru-kun sometimes, lighten up we don’t bite.” He winked to which Yuki only groaned in response.

“S-Sorry, this is my first time coming over to someone’s house.” You heard Tohru’s footsteps come over as she announced her arrival with the tea. She placed down your cup and smiled before going back to prepare dinner.

“(Y/n)-kun, are you fine with eating fish?” She asked.

“Yes, that would be fine, thank you Tohru-kun.”

“Do your parents mind you staying over though (Y/n)-kun?” Shigure held his fan up to the side of his face as he leaned forward against the table. You hummed as you took a small sip of the tea.

“We don’t talk,” you stated bluntly, “I live alone and work part-time.”

“Ooh! Sorry for bringing it up (Y/n)-kun!” You waved at him to dismiss his question.

“It’s fine.” You tried to suppress the frown that was starting to crack through your joyous facade. You stared at the ripples from the tea as a way to avoid looking at them with your pitiful eyes. “It’s not something that should concern you.”

Yuki narrowed his eyes slightly before lightening. He would assume you didn’t have the best childhood, but considering everyone in the house didn’t, it wasn’t shocking news. He noted the way your lips were pressed against each other as if you were holding yourself back.

“The eagle could save the rat from his burdens.” He pondered over the meaning of your words. It was a bold statement coming from you who he recently met. He watched as you continued to interact with Shigure about various types of books with your journal by your side as you noted down the ones written by him.

Yuki didn’t know what to feel in this situation, it seemed too unpredictable for him and he wanted to figure out the meaning behind your words. Perhaps he was looking too far into it as it would have been impossible for you to know the Sohma family secret, but there was something in the look that you gave him that sparked a sense of hope within him. A strange sense of hope that maybe there could have been a world where he didn’t feel alone.

“Dinner is ready!” Tohru called out to everyone with an array of plates, “is Kyo-kun still outside?”

“Yeah, could you go call him for us Tohru-kun?” Shigure asked, helping her set down the plates as you watched their interactions. The sound of the phone ringing echoed in the hallways, “I’ll excuse myself for a moment.”

“Alright!”

You sat there waiting for her to come back with Kyo while Shigure went to pick up the phone that was ringing, which left you and Yuki alone just for a couple of minutes. You glanced at him a couple of times before hearing him clear his throat.

“(L/n)-san, do you need someone to walk you home later? It’s getting quite dark already.” Yuki suggested, “I could walk you home if you need someone.”

“N-No, that is fine.” Your eyes flickered towards the meal before returning your attention back to your grey-haired classmate, “you really don’t have to be so nice Sohma-san.”

“It’s okay, I was just trying to talk to you after yesterday’s events that’s all.”

You sat there staring at him in awe. You didn’t expect him to actually care about your interaction and it surprised you. You felt your heart sink into your stomach as you realized he must have thought you said something irritating. “U-Um. . . Sorry.” You gripped onto your skirt from under the table as you bit your lip. “I must have offended you somehow didn’t I?”

“Not at all,” Yuki smiled, “It was my first time someone asked me a question like that. Is there a reason you don’t talk to everyone else in class?”

“I wasn’t really the best at talking to others so. . . When Tohru-kun invited me over it was hard to say no.” You toyed with the hem of your skirt, “l-like I said, this is my first time.”

“Then I’ll go gentle.” Your eyes widened as he gave you an innocent smile. There seemed to be this comedic and pure aura around him as he spoke in such a slightly vulgar way, this contrasted his outer appearance greatly which caught you off guard.

“A-Ah you don’t have to phrase it like that! I-It’s embarrassing!” You stumbled on your words while trying to form a complete sentence, “Umm. . .”

Crap, what were you supposed to do in this situation? You internally panicked, did he really have to say that?! You could feel your brain losing all senses until you heard him speak up.

“I’m just kidding (L/n)-san, I just wanted to ease you since you seemed tense.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, “Sohma-san that was a bit unexpected.”

“Sorry, it seemed like a good opportunity to say that line.“

“I’m back!” You both snapped your necks to face Kyo and Tohru who were arriving, “Is Shigure-san still on the phone?” You both nodded as Kyo only rolled his eyes.

Just in a few seconds, Shigure was right by the door and you all were able to settle down and enjoy your meal. Tohru was very kind in giving you a meal even though you weren’t even part of their household. You cut through the fish easily with your chopsticks and started to eat, the rest of the family staring at you in disbelief as you consumed the meal. You tilted your head up in confusion towards their stares.

“A-Ah umm. . . (Y/n)-kun, do you just eat the bones too?” Tohru asked, the rest of the group watching as you stopped chewing.

“Am I not suppose to?” You held up your hand to your mouth to excuse your rudeness.

“Who the hell eats the bones?” Kyo said.

“No. . . You normally don’t eat the bones of the fish.” Yuki clarified, digging into his own fish and pulling out the flesh without any bones. “But, it’s okay if you do that too.”

“Mhm! I’m really happy you enjoy the meal (Y/n)-kun!” Tohru piped up.

“I-I see. . . I’m used to eating it this way.” You continued to eat your meal.

You didn’t get many opportunities like this to eat, even as a child you didn’t eat much either.

“God. . . Please listen to my prayers,” She cried out, she slid a bowl of mackerel bones from her side and placed it in front of the altar, “this is all I have to offer, please forgive me!” You watched from the far corner of your darkened room as she kneeled in front of the wooden altar, which was the only furniture you had in the small space you called a room. Your (e/c) eyes staring at her with your knees close to your chest as you pushed yourself further into the corner, hoping that one day you could disappear.

Your mother would pray every single day in your room and only return with scraps of food. Even though it was thought of to be filthy at first, this was the only way you could survive. You wondered if there truly was a God. Would you be able to see one when you disappear? You pressed your cheek against the cold wall, did it truly matter in the end? It seemed hopeless.

Was it worth dying to find out if God exists?

You watched your mother continue praying, your nails digging into your flesh as you glared at her. With every second, seeing her made your blood boil. You bit your lip, the skin splitting as the crimson liquid dripped from your chin.

The dullness in your eyes seemed to return which went unnoticed by most of the group. Yuki frowned at the sight but decided not to comment on it.

“(Y/n)-kun, are you walking back home alone?” Shigure asked, giving you a bit of a deja vu moment.

“Mhm, I don’t want to inconvenience you all, especially when I was the one invited here.” You were almost done with your meal, “I walk home alone when my shift from work ends.”

“Oh? Where do you work, Tohru-kun works as a cleaner at a nearby agency.”

“I work at the cafe just next to the Takoyaki Guy, sometimes they even let me bring leftovers home.”

“You should get Yuki-kun to walk you home then,” Unbeknownst to you, the sly dog had been snickering behind his fan while Yuki scoffed in response at his childishness matchmaking. “Unless you want Kyo-kun?”

“Hah?! When the hell did I ever agree to walk her home?! Why am I involved!” Kyo yelled.

“Don’t you think someone strong should walk (Y/n)-kun home then?~” Kyo sneered at Yuki who had already looked displeased at the idea.

“You really think he is strong?” He argued, “I’m sure Honda-san is also stronger than Kyo to walk her home.”

“You wanna go rat boy?!”

You silently finished your food, enjoying the small show in front of you. They were a very lively family, you assumed that Yuki and Kyo weren’t on the best terms based on their interactions. You began to take notes in your journal of this experience, writing down every insult and word the two of them spat at each other. As you tapped your pen against the paper, you started to realize how similar the two were to the idea of being a cat and rat. Shigure discretely tried to take a peek at your journal but you had already finished writing by the time he even finished the first sentence. You were a fast writer, he thought.

“Yuki-kun, why don’t you walk (Y/n)-kun home then?”

You raised your eyebrow, Shigure was awfully persistent in letting Yuki walk you home.

“Are you sure? He asked me earlier and I really don’t want to cause trouble.” You turned to the mentioned boy, “you don’t have to go if you don’t want to, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you any more than I already have.”

“Erghh! (Y/n)-kun you’re starting to sound like Tohru-kun a bit.” Shigure whined, his head resting on the table as he groaned, “she is always too humble for her own good!”

“Ignore him, I wouldn’t mind walking you home (Y/n)-kun.” Yuki responded as he set down his pair of chopsticks, already finished with his meal, “do you live far from here?”

“Not really, my apartment should be a few minutes away from your house.” He nodded before Tohru dismissed herself to clean up.

“I know you youngsters didn’t do your homework yet, but it already is dark and it’s time for (Y/n)-kun to go home don’t you think?” Shigure suggested. Kyo only yawned and prodded at his ear in boredom as he turned on the television. You could see Yuki’s irked expression from the corner of your eye.

“A-Are you sure it’s okay for me to leave when Tohru-kun is still cleaning?” You asked.

Tohru peeked over the sliding door, “I’ll be fine (Y/n)-kun! I don’t want to keep you any longer! I’m happy you liked the dinner!”

You quickly brought yourself up to your feet and bowed down to the group, “thank you for having me here tonight. I had a lot of fun.”

“You can always come here again for dinner if you’d like!” Tohru grinned, “maybe next time you could even join us for lunch at school!” You wondered how such a girl could have so much generosity built in her bones. For group of people you recently talked to, they were extremely welcoming. Did she treat everyone like this?

“Tohru-kun, you’re too kind,” You smiled, “I’ll think about that offer. Then, if you you could excuse us.” You picked up your school bag and faced Yuki, signaling that you were ready to leave. He quickly stood up and waved at Tohru before walking you out of the house.

The two walked in silence for the first couple steps down the mountain while you admired the scenery of the street lights. You never realized this until now, but the Sohma family has a really nice view of the town from the mountains.

“You seem quite relaxed at home compared to when you’re at school Sohma-san.” You commented.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm. . . You seem to have this certain aura around you.” You clutched your journal close to you, “you have an interesting family.”

He chuckled, “I guess you could say that. They’re all strange in their own little ways.” They were very strange indeed, but it gave you a sense of warmth when you entered the house. You exhaled and noticed the small breath of air materializing into the air.

“Are you cold?” He asked.

“Not really,” you tilted your head to admire the glistening stars, “this weather feels nice. The stars look bright today.”

It seemed as if his smile never left his face even after leaving the house. You wonder if he was simply faking it or it was in his nature to stay looking happy. This idea made you feel slightly gloomy the more you thought about it, but you felt as if you should have been more on edge.

“Sohma-san, do you think I’m a bit strange?”

He hummed towards the stars before turning to face you, “not really, why do you ask?”

You tightened your grip around your journal, “no reason really. I was just curious.”

“I’m sure you’re just a bit nervous since it’s your first time right?” He teased, “I’m glad I would technically be your first.”

“P-Please let’s not speak of that” you pouted. He thought your facial expression was quite cute, but didn’t want to comment on it. “I-I just thought it would be awkward not to say anything in the library. . .” You sighed.

“It’s quite fun to tease you. But (L/n)-san, could you tell me more about your idea? About the eagle?” You halted your steps as the breeze blew past your cheek, you had almost loosened your grip on your journal at his question. He stood in front of you with an honest smile, one that you could tell was genuine.

“Are you sure? It wasn’t that interesting.” He only nodded before the two of you continued walking again.

“Do you know what the eagle would do if they were first place?”

You hummed, “. . . They would fly through the sky, carrying the burden of everyone else.”

“Why is that?”

“They feel sorry for the Zodiacs. Because the eagle is strong, and they want to protect others. They want to free them by asking God to do it.” You started to kick at a pebble on the ground, “the eagle would think that if they tried their hardest to convince God, they could unite the other zodiacs.”

“Then, what would happen to the eagle?”

“They will. . .” You trailed off. Your lips curled downwards into a frown. You watched as the pebble you previously kicked scattered off somewhere.

Then the eagle would be alone too.

It was a selfish thought, thinking that an eagle could handle the burden of all Twelve Zodiacs. You dug your nails into your journal at the idea.

“The eagle would become heavy with burden, and eventually they can’t fly anymore.” You mumbled, “they would be trapped forever.”

Yuki turned away from you by the time you both approached your apartment building. You gave him one final wave before making your way towards the staircase and opening the door to your home. Yuki stood near your building for a couple of minutes, lost in his own thoughts before walking back home.

Perhaps the eagle wanted freedom just as much as the rat did.

#fruits basket #fruits basket x reader #x reader #yuki sohma #yuki sohma x reader #yuki soma #yuki soma x reader

61 notes · View notes

puckbuddies · 4 years

Text

Not quite a disaster

Tyson Jost x reader

2361 words

Warnings: swear words, mentions of bad dates?

From the prompt: “Yeah I’ll probably die alone.” “I asked if you were dining alone.”

The biggest thank you to @canadianheaters for helping and motivating me ❤

You were looking at your phone for what felt like the hundredth time in the past forty minutes. This guy you had met online and felt like you had a good connection with, had just stood you up. After four failed dates in the past month, this was the last straw.

The first guy was only after sex, which would have been fine if he told you that was what he wanted beforehand. Instead, he shouted at you after you declined the invitation to his apartment after a very mediocre date. A week after that, it was the most boring person you’d ever met. You felt horrible for making up an excuse to leave half an hour after you met them, but you couldn’t put yourself through any more frankly sleep-inducing conversation.

The last guy was the worst. He had asked you to go see a movie with him which in itself would have been fine. Except he chose a movie that you told him you’d already seen with your friends the week before. On top of that, he made you pay for parking and snacks and didn’t even try to talk to you at all the whole night.

Your hope had been dwindling throughout the month and another bad date was the last thing you needed. You’d been really excited about this one as well. Dylan, as your date was called, was very much out of your league and apparently, that was what he thought as well because he decided to not show up to the restaurant he had asked you to go to.

Taking a deep breath to try and keep tears from rolling down your face until you were at least in your car, you reached for your phone one last time to immediately block his number. You didn’t even need to look up to know the waitresses would be looking at you with looks of pity so you decided it would be best to keep your head down while you put on your coat.

Your plan failed however when you heard a person clearing their throat right in front of you. You were so caught up in the surprise of someone talking to you that you didn’t completely catch what they’d asked you.

Answering what you thought was their question you said “Yeah I’ll probably die alone.”

After that, you were more annoyed than anything. Why would somebody even ask you that question? Could they not see you weren’t in the mood for this.

A loud laugh interrupted you as you were trying to find your wallet to leave this place as soon as you possibly could. You looked up at the stranger with the most deadpan look you’d ever given someone in your life. It took a minute for the man in front of you to stop laughing long enough to give you an explanation of what was happening all the while the whole restaurant was now watching your interaction.

“I’m sorry for laughing at you, it was just funny.” The man said while still laughing.

“I asked if you were dining alone.”

This was it. The one thing that could make your night even worse, embarrassing yourself in front of a whole entire restaurant. The only thing you could do was let out a pathetic “Oh” at your own stupidity.

You could feel tears starting to form in the corner of your eyes and as soon as the stranger in front of you noticed, his laughter stopped.

“Hey it’s alright, please don’t cry.” But it was too late. You couldn’t hear what he was saying because your head was spinning. You barely even noticed him leading you outside to a less populated place.

Once you were sitting on a bench across the street, you couldn’t keep your tears in any longer. They came crashing down like waterfalls and at this point, you didn’t care who could see you. Letting out all of your feelings was the only thing that was going to make you feel better.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, just crying into your hands while the guy from the restaurant patted your back comfortingly. It felt nice, even if you felt like shit otherwise.

After a while, your sobs turned into quiet sniffles and you regained the ability to think. It was then you turned to the guy to apologize for your behavior. Looking up, you met his worried gaze and it almost made you burst into tears again. The nicest interaction you’d had with a male in a month was when you were hysterically crying on a park bench.

You took another moment to calm yourself down completely before you tried to speak. The stranger was still trying his best to make you stop crying and you really appreciated the effort he was putting in.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that.” was what you offered after your cheeks had completely dried up and you cringed at how hoarse your voice sounded.

“It’s okay, I’m more sorry for making you cry.”

You felt really bad. He thought he had made you cry when that wasn’t the case at all and on top of that he got stuck trying to comfort you when he most certainly had better things to do with his evening.

“You didn’t make me cry, don’t worry.”

He didn’t answer you. Instead he looked at you in disbelieve causing you to give him the most reassuring smile you could come up with.

“Well, do you want to talk about it then?”

It was said in the softest voice, like he was scared you were going to start crying again. For all he knew, you could. But you told him anyway. About all of your bad dates and how embarrassed you felt when everyone in the restaurant was looking at you while you just wanted the ground to swallow you up. He listened very well, only interrupting to wipe away any fresh tears trying to escape your eyes.

Having someone there was nice. Even if he was just a random guy who would’ve forgotten all about you by tomorrow.

“I just wish someone would care enough to take me on a nice date for once.”

This caused the guy next to you to tense up. You could tell he was trying to figure out how to respond to your statement. You felt his eyes on you but were all of a sudden too shy to look up at him.

A soft “Hey” accompanied with a hand on your cheek made you turn to face him. His eyes were full of compassion and care. you were still half sitting in his lap and the moment suddenly felt a little too much. You moved back to put some distance between yourself and the man whose name you did not know. He looked a little hurt but didn’t comment on your movement.

The silence didn’t last long as the guy abruptly stood up. He was wearing a wide smile but his eyes were still as kind as they had been the whole night.

“Let me take you somewhere.”

“No.”

Your answer came almost immediately but you wished you had thought about it a little longer when you saw his smile fade slightly.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to pretend like you want to spend time with me to make me feel better. I’ll get over it.”

“But I do want to spend time with you.” His answer came even quicker than the one you had given him. “I’m not here to pity you, I promise.”

His face showed a hopeful expression and you didn’t want to be the reason it disappeared again. After all he’d done for you today, you felt like you should agree to do this for him if that was really what he wanted.

And so after having asked his name, you were on your way. Most of the walk was spend in silence while Tyson, as you now knew his name was, tried to figure out where to take you.

“Okay close your eyes.”

“What, why?”

“Because I don’t want you to know where we’re going and we’ve almost arrived at our destination.”

You looked at him for a few seconds trying to figure out his age. He seemed to be in his early twenties but he still had that childlike wonder that made you doubt that. When you didn’t close your eyes, instead just choosing to stand there, it was his turn to look at you. He rolled his eyes after you raised your eyebrow at him in a challenging way and turned you around by pushing your shoulders.

Just as you were about to ask what he was doing, he placed his hands over your eyes. You let out a surprised huff at that but ultimately went along with it.

Despite only having known Tyson for maybe an hour, you trusted him. His hands on your face were giving you warmth that the Denver night couldn’t give you. It was sort of relaxing. Blindly walking through the city making you feel like you had no responsibilities or worries.

“Ta-da.”

It took some time for your eyes to get used to the lighting again and when they did you felt your heart drop a little. Tyson had taken you to McDonald's. You didn’t have anything against the place but after your conversation earlier, you had expected a little more.

“McDonald's?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed. Come on, let’s go sit down.”

You were quickly learning that Tyson liked to act like an excited puppy all the time and it really showed as he was basically skipping to a table in the back of the restaurant. While you did really enjoy that about Tyson, it also made you more aware of your own bad mood.

It took you a little longer to reach the table he had picked out and your face showed how unsure you were being there.

“Why are you pouting? We’re on an amazing date.”

“Going to McDonald's is hardly a date Tys.” You replied while rolling your eyes.

“Sure it is, what’s better than milkshakes?”

You had to applaud him on his enthusiasm. As much as you were giving him a hard time, Tyson didn’t let it affect him at all. Looking at him smiling to himself while browsing the menu made the corners of your own mouth subconsciously turn upwards.

It was then that you decided to just forget about what had happened earlier in the evening. You were sitting here now and you owed it to Tyson to at least try and have fun. Even if he didn’t consider this a date and was just sitting here to keep you company, he still offered up his night for you and you really appreciated him for it.

“So what are you suggesting?”

Tyson looked at you over the top of the menu card, his eyes once again showing you everything you needed to know. He was very easy to read and you wished you could be a little more like him. It seemed like he didn’t have a care in the world.

After ordering three different milkshakes, because apparently ‘they taste the best when you mix all of the flavors together’, you and Tyson fell into some easy conversation. Tyson tried to keep the topics light to make sure you were comfortable at all times.

At the beginning of the night, and even an hour ago, you’d never thought you’d be sitting in a fast food restaurant having the most fun you’d had in months all thanks to the boy sitting in front of you. He was currently entertaining himself by throwing pieces of his napkin at your face but you couldn’t even be mad at him.

You eventually leave MacDonald's with a booth full of torn up napkins and a smile on your face, not even noticing the near freezing temperatures because Tyson was making you feel so warm inside. The thought of arriving at your apartment which looked so appealing earlier, now filled you with a sense of disappointment.

Would Tyson want to see you again? Or was this just a one time thing?

This was the first time during the whole night you had no idea what he was thinking. His eyes were on the ground and silence overtook you. You felt awkward again as you walked the short distance home.

“I hope you at least had a little bit of fun.”

You could feel the nervousness coming off of him and wanted nothing more than to hug him.

“I did yeah.” You answered with a smile. “More than I thought I would have at MacDonald's.”

Tyson rolled his eyes at you playfully before answering.

“It’s not about the location though, it’s about the company. You really think you would have had as much fun sitting in that expensive restaurant with whatever his name was? Money does not compensate a shit personality.”

His expression was playful but his words were serious and it took you by surprise. You hadn’t expected Tyson to call you out like that. Maybe it was good he did. He was definitely right.

“Yeah you’re right, he has nothing on you.”

“So does that mean you’re open to a real date in the future? I promise I’ll do better than MacDonald’s.”

“Tys, you could take me to an outdoor food truck festival in the pouring rain and I’d still think it was the best date ever.”

The happiness that overtook his features was unlike anything you’d ever seen. Even though moonlight was shining down on you, you felt like you were looking at the sun.

“Okay.” He began but paused a moment later. You’d caught him of guard with what you’d said.

“Okay, I’ll call you then. I wanted to kiss you but I feel like I should wait for a better time.”

He gave you a hug and then he was off. And while he didn’t leave you with a kiss, he did leave you with his phone number and a plan to meet up again, and that was good enough for now.

#Tyson #Things I write #Tyson Jost #nhl imagine #Tyson jost x reader #colorado avalanche imagine

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get-lost-in-fanfiction · 3 years

Text

LOST - Another Story

Rating: M

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: I hope everyone enjoys the new character. I have big plans for her in terms of the overarching story of Lost. Also for the dialogue I’m following a transcript of the episodes so I can get it all right. Anyway, here’s Pilot Part 2!

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Pilot (Part 2)

I sit down, trying to ignore the mixed expression Sawyer is giving my right now. One would assume he is upset I know his true name, or he thinks I'm some spy. Then a horrid thought crosses my mind, what if they think I'm an Other? I realize they don't know about the Others now, but in the future, I'm not sure. I'm putting my trust in Sawyer to keep my secret and protect me, but knowing how he is in the first season it doesn't seem likely. But I know the kind of man he is meant to be. So with that in mind and with a sigh, I begin to tell Sawyer everything I know.

“My name is Amelia Kassman, I am 20 years old, now single, and I know the future, ” I pause there to take in Sawyer’s reaction but he seems too stunned to speak.

“I know the future because where I come from this world doesn't exist. This reality, or whatever this is, is from a TV show called Lost. This Island isn't actually real, and the show was filmed in Hawaii. I come from 2010, and the show has just finished it's 6th and final season. Weeks before this I had just watched the finale. I can assure you, it's just as weird for me too.”

I pause again, letting Sawyer soak up the information. I nervously tap my leg, knowing once the rain stops Jack, Kate, and Charlie will be on their way back. Sawyer opens and closes his mouth a few times, seemingly wanting to talk but unable to. As the rain suddenly stops, I suck in a breath. Fuck. I watch Sawyer as he stands up and walks out of his tent.

I stay a little longer in Sawyer’s tent, listening intently for the sound of a fight to break out over the handcuffs Walt finds in the jungle. Once I do, I rush out of the tent and over to where Sayid and Sawyer are fist-fighting.

“Hey guys. Come on, man. Hey.” I hear Michael say as I jog up to the scene.

“Hey. Break it up. Break it up! Come on! That's it! It's over! That's it!” Jack shouts, running in a few moments after I arrive.

“Son of a bitch!” Sawyer spits at Sayid.

“I'm sick of this redneck!” Sayid calls.

Sawyer gets up close to Sayid, “You want some more of me, boy?” He taunts.

“Tell everyone what you told me! Tell them that I crashed the plane! Go on! Tell them I made the plane crash!”

“The shoe fits, buddy!”

“What is going on?” Jack shouts over the commotion.

Sayid shouts something in Arabic angrily at Sawyer.

“What's going on?” Jack commands again louder.

Michael hands the handcuffs to Jack before speaking up, “Look, my kid found these in the jungle.”

I roll my eyes when Sawyer decides to butt in, “And this guy was sitting in the back row of business class, the whole flight, never got up. Hands folded underneath the blanket.”

“Oh-” Sayid gasps softly.

“And for some reason,” Sawyer continues, “just pointin' this out - the guy sittin' next to him didn't make it.”

“Thank you so much for observing my behavior.” Sayid spits back at Sawyer.

“You don't think I saw them pull you out of line before we boarded?”

I watch as Sayid tries to get to Sawyer again to hit him.

“Come on, bring it!” Sawyer exclaims.

Kate steps up and yells loudly, “STOP!” As Sayid backs off.

Kate continues after the situation is visibly diffused, “We found the transceiver, but it's not working. Can anybody help?”

“Yes. I might be able to.” Sayid claims calmly.

Sawyer throws his hands up, “Oh great. Perfect! Let's trust this guy!” He shouts again.

At this, Hurley steps in, “Hey! We're all this together, man. Let's treat each other with a little respect.”

“Shut up, Lardo.” Sawyer shoots back. I wince, watching this scene in person is a lot worse than on TV.

“Hey! Give it a break.” Jack says exasperatedly.

“Whatever you say, doc. You're the hero.” Sawyer says and Jack shoots me an odd look. For a beat, I don't understand why, but suddenly it comes back to me. I also called Jack ‘Doc.’ Terrific.

I stay on the beach, trying to convince myself to go on the hike with everyone. I know it won't be easy, and I know that the climbing scene was faked. I'm not very strong, but I've got enough upper body strength to fight so why can't I climb? I was hiking before the crash, anyway, so it could be plausible for me to go. I drop my face in my hands and sigh loudly before pushing off the sand. I walk myself over to the gathering group of Kate, Sayid, Shannon, and Boone.

“Shut up, and stop trying to be charming.” I hear Shannon say angrily to Boone. She then turns to Kate and Sayid, “I'm coming with you.”

I see Kate looking visibly uncomfortable, “I don't... know if that's such a good idea.” She says slowly.

Shannon scoffs “What are you? Two years older than me? Please.” I walk quickly up beside Charlie as Shannon whips around to see us, “You two are going, aren't you?”

“Yeah, are you?” Charlie says.

“Yup.”

“Yeah, I'm definitely going.” Charlie says as I shudder slightly.

“I’d like to come too if you don't mind?” I ask Kate politely.

“Look, everybody can come. But we're leaving now.” Kate says, annoyed. I'm glad I like this early season version of her or else I’d be annoyed too.

Charlie then speaks up to Shannon, “You couldn't tell from that, but she's actually really nice.”

I turn my head and see Sawyer smoking while reading his letter. He looks up at me and we lock eyes for a moment before glancing beside me to see the others walking off. I look away and try to suppress the butterflies. I don't like men who smoke, but Sawyer makes it look sexy. Thankfully he runs out of cigarettes soon.

I tighten the laces of my boots as Kate turns to me. “You have a backpack?” She asks.

“What?” I say in reply, as I mentally smack myself.

“I said do you have a backpack, you should carry some water.”

“Yeah I have a backpack, I was hiking in Australia before the crash. Do you want me to get it?” I try and keep my tone even and kind as I talk to Kate.

“Yeah, go do that.” I worry she’ll leave me behind so I run as quickly as I can to my tent to get my backpack. Once I do and fill it with some water bottles I rush back to the group.

“I'm ready,” I call.

“Great then, let's head out, ” Kate says. I give a quiet sigh in return, this is going to be a long hike.

We are well into the jungle, and I start to worry that Sawyer won't be joining us. I won't lie when I say that he is one of the reasons I even came on this hike. Not that he is the only reason, though, I also came because I wanted a gun. Despite my adversity towards them, I have the strange need for one. Knowing what lies ahead I feel like I can become a trustworthy gunman. The quick crunching of another pair of feet shook me out of my thoughts.

“You decided to join us.” Kate says unamused.

“I'm a complex guy, sweetheart,” Sawyer calls back and turns his head to me to give a little wink. I try hard to keep my cheeks from turning bright red.

“I didn't know you were comin’ on this little excursion blue eyes,” Sawyer flirts, is he flirting? I can't tell, and part of me doesn't want to look into it too much. I know having a crush on Sawyer won't end well for me, there are too many competitors. I don't want to mess up the timeline just because I have a silly crush.

“Yeah, dimples, I decided to come. Better than sitting on the beach staring at the ocean all day,” I see Sawyer’s face turn a little when I use his own nickname game against him. Maybe I could have a bit of fun with it.

“Touche,” is all he can say.

We get to the base of a cliff and I realize this is the moment I've been dreading. Kate looks to Sawyer, Shannon looks to Boone, Charlie looks around and I look up at the top of the cliff. Sawyer starts to climb up first, followed by Kate and Sayid not far behind. Charlie is a little way behind them and I decide to follow him, not wanting to be behind the slow pokes of Shannon and Boone. We struggle up the side of the cliff, grabbing branches and roots that stick out and trying our best to find footing. Charlie occasionally offers me his hand to help pull me up and I am grateful to take it, also opting to help him as well when I can. My hands, back, and forehead are sweating from nerves and exertion. Sawyer reaches the top of the cliff first and helps lift Kate up along with himself. Sawyer and Kate then help Sayid and Charlie, too. Somehow, Shannon and Boone got ahead of me, and Shannon is too proud to get the help from anyone but Boone, so he is the one to pull himself up and help her. I realize I’m the last one when I see Sawyer’s smiling face looking down at me.

“Need some help there, blue eyes?” He says with a bit of amusement in his voice.

“Yeah actually, I do,” I puff back, not realizing how much I’m struggling.

So Sawyer reaches his hand down and I hoist myself up to grab it while still clinging to some roots. He wraps his large hand around my smaller one then grabs hold of my forearm with his other hand. He pulls me up as I use my other arm to lift myself up. I roll over the edge of the cliff and Sawyer lets go of my arm. Everyone stares at me for a moment and I feel my cheeks heat up in embarrassment. I quickly scramble to my feet and brush myself off.

“Well let’s go,” I say embarrassed and while avoiding eye contact with Sawyer.

We get to a fairly flat place in the jungle with tall grass and lots of tree cover. Cicadas are chirping loudly as I walk beside Sawyer. I swing my backpack around and pull out a water bottle, take a swig, offer it to Sawyer who waves it away, and then screw the cap back on. I stow the water away as I remember that during the mountain my favorite theme was playing. I laugh a little to myself and Sawyer glances at me quickly, I put my fingers up to my mouth and smile shyly in his direction.

We walk a bit more before Sawyer throws his hands up and speaks, “Okay! Wide open space! You should check the radio, see if we're good.”

“We're not going to have any reception here.” Sayid says as he continues to walk.

“Just try it.” Sawyer exclaims.

“I don't want to waste the batteries.”

“I'm not asking you to keep it on all day!”

“We're still blocked by the mountain.”

“Just check the damn radio!” Sawyer huffs.

“If I just check! We might not have any juice left when we get to-” Suddenly a loud roar interrupts Sayid and everyone whips around to the movement. We hear puffs and everyone looks around to find the source of the noise and the crunching of the grass and leaves around us.

“My god.” Shannon squeaks, I glance at her.

“What the hell's that?” Boone asks, I want to speak up, but I have a plan quickly forming in my mind.

“Something's coming.” Kate says quietly, and by the look in her eyes I can tell she thinks it's the Smoke Monster. The beast starts running at us, huffing.

“It's coming towards us, I think.” Charlie says nervously.

Kate rushes towards us, “Come on, let's move,” she says hurriedly. Everyone begins to run off but Sawyer and I. He looks down at me worriedly, an expression I didn’t think I would see.

“I shouldn't have come. Aah!” Shannon screams.

Sayid pulls Charlie along and they all start running, “Go! Go!” he shouts. Sawyer tries to push me away to run but I stay put, ready to strike.

I hear Kate yell, “Sawyer!” and Sayid’s exclamation of “Let him go!”

I quickly reach for Sawyer’s gun and shoot at the bear, knowing where it is. It bursts out of the jungle, Sawyer stumbling back a bit, as I quickly put a bullet through its chest. The bear drops and I look up at Sawyer, the smoking gun still in my hand.

“Blue eyes..?” Sawyer starts, but Shannon cuts him off.

“That's... that's a big bear,” She says, looking fretfully at the animal.

“You think that's what killed the pilot?” Kate glances at Charlie nervously.

“No. No, that's a tiny, teeny version compared to that,” Charlie says, holding up his fingers for comparison.

Kate looks at it for a moment, “Guys, this isn't just a... bear. That's a polar bear,” she says.

Boone decides to speak up, “That can't be a polar bear.”

“It’s a polar bear,” Kate, Sayid, and I say in unison as Sawyer gives me a look, the gun still in my hand.

“Yeah, but... Polar bears don't usually live in the jungle,” Shannon says.

“Spot on,” Charlie replied cheekily.

Sayid then speaks up, “No, polar bears don't live near this far south.”

“This one does,” Boone quips.

“Did. It did,” Sawyer says, misbelief in his eyes.

Kate then turns to me, “Where did that come from?”

Before I can speak Sawyer butts in, “Probably Bear Village. How the hell do I know?”

Kate scoffs, “Not the bear. The gun.”

I look down at the gun in my hand, flick the safety, and look back up at Kate, “I took it from Sawyer.”

“And where did Sawyer get it from?”

“I got it off one of the bodies,” Sawyer replies.

“One of the bodies,” Sayid repeats.

“Yeah, one of the bodies.”

“People don't carry guns on planes..” Shannon states.

“They do if they're a US Marshal, sweet cheeks-“ Sawyer starts, but I cut him off.

“There was one on the plane,” I state, hoping to dissolve the situation.

“How do you know that?” Kate says to the both of us, slightly panicked.

“I saw a guy lying there with an ankle holster, so I took the gun. I thought it might come in handy. Guess what? Blue-eyes here just shot a bear!” Sawyer states happily, gesturing to me when he mentions the polar bear.

“I have a name you know,” I say, a bit annoyed.

“Well nicknames are my specialty, peaches,” Sawyer says smoothly.

Kate interrupts us before I can reply, “So why do you think he's a Marshal?”

“Because he had a clip-on badge,” Sawyer holds up a badge, ”I took that too. Thought it was cool.”

“I know who you are,” Sayid begins, “You're the prisoner.”

“I'm the what?” Sawyer says incredulously.

“You found a gun on a US Marshal. Yes, I believe you did. You knew where it was, because you were the one he was bringing back to the States,” Sayid glances at me before he continues back to Sawyer, “Those handcuffs were on you. That's how you knew there was a gun.”

“Piss off,” Sawyer spits.

“That's who you are, you son of a bitch!” Sayid starts to get angry.

“Be as suspicious of me as I am of you,” Sawyer states coolly.

“But you are the prisoner.”

“Fine! I'm the criminal. You're the terrorist. We can all play a part,” Sawyer turns to me, “Who do you want to be blue-eyes?”

Kate suddenly reaches towards me and wrestles the gun out of my hand, I’m glad I put on the safety. Once Kate has the gun she points it at Sawyer, looking at me guilty. I know that look, she thinks I’m just a child. I’m not a child, but, compared to the rest of the survivors I am.

“Does anybody know how to use a gun?” Kate says.

“I think you just pull the trigger,” Charlie quips.

“Don't use the gun.” Sayid states.

“I want to take it apart,” Kate says calmly.

“Oh,” Charlie says softly.

Sayid takes a deep breath and says, “There's a button on the grip. Push that, it will eject the magazine,” Kate follows Sayid's instructions and ejects the magazine, “There's still a round in the chamber. Hold the grip, pull the top part of the gun.”

Kate does what Sayid says quickly, and almost too expertly. If I didn’t know her I would be suspicious. She then gives the magazine to Sayid and the gun to Sawyer.

Sawyer grabs Kate’s arm as she gives him the gun back “I know your type,” he says quietly.

“I'm not so sure,” she says back.

“Yeah. I've been with girls like you.”

“No girl's exactly like me,” Kate says coldly, but with a slight glance at me.

Kate then walks off and Sayid speaks up, “We should keep moving.”

We walk a bit more, to an open hilly area. I close my eyes and face the ocean, breathing in the air. Despite being hot and humid, I can’t help but marvel at the beauty of the Island. Even though I know back home it was just Hawaii, this is no Oahu. Sayid then gets the transceiver out and I steel myself for Sawyer, again.

“Oh! Now's a good time to check the radio! Not before.. but now!” He says angrily.

“We're up higher,” Sayid says calmly.

“Yes, we are!”

Suddenly Sayid gets excited, “Bar. Hey! We've got a bar! Mayday! Mayday!” But all that comes out is feedback.

“What is that?” Kate asks.

“Feedback,” Sayid answers.

“Feedback from what? What would do that?”

“I don't know.”

“I'll tell you what would do that,” Sawyer begins angrily, “This guy not fixing the radio. This thing doesn't even work!”

“No. No, no, no, no, it's not broken. We can't transmit because something else is already transmitting,” Sayid explains.

“Transmitting from where?” Charlie asks.

“What?” Shannon adds nervously.

“Somewhere close. The signal's strong,” Sayid says, and I remember the radio tower. I wish I could somehow get away and find it, even though I know what happens when we do a few months down the line.

“Somewhere close? You mean on the Island? That's great!” Charlie claims excitedly.

“Maybe it's other survivors,” Boone adds.

“From our plane? How would they even—“ Shannon begins, bur Sawyer cuts her off.

“What kind of transmission is it?” He asks.

“Could be a sat phone, maybe a radio signal…” Sayid says as he trails off.

“Can we listen to it?” Kate asks nervously.

“Let me get the frequency first. Hold on,” Sayid says.

“There's no transmission,” Sawyer dismisses.

“Sawyer,” I say quietly, touching his arm a bit. He looks down at me and shuts up.

Sayid finally gets transmission to play and Charlie starts to get excited. “The rescue party. It has to be,” Rousseau’s message is heard clearly, “It's French! The French are coming! I've never been so happy to hear the French!” Charlie bounces up and down as he speaks.

“I never took French. What does she say?” Kate asks.

“D-Does anybody speak French?” Sayid says hurriedly.

“She does,” Boone says before I can, and I realize that might have been a bad thing to say.

Shannon then suddenly gets defensive towards Boone, “No, I don't. What?”

“What the hell are you talking about? You spent a year in Paris!”

“Drinking, not studying!”

Suddenly the transmission ends and a male voice speaks from the radio, “Iteration 7294531.”

“Okay. What's that?” Charlie asks, looking hopeful. Sayid, not so much.

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…” Sayid says quickly.

“‘No, no, no’ what?” Kate asks hurriedly.

“What ‘no’?” Shannon also asks.

“The-the batteries are dying!” Sayid shouts.

“How much time do we have?” Kate asks.

“Not much.”

Boone turns to Shannon again, “I've heard you speak French! Just listen to this! Listen to it!”

“I can't!” Shannon cries.

Sawyer huffs, “You speak French or not? Because that would be nice.”

The radio speaks again “Iteration 17294532.”

“That voice is weird. What is that?” Charlie inputs, but no one answers his question. I look sympathetically at him.

“Come on. Come on, Shannon!” Boone urges.

“Come on!” Kate adds.

Even Sayid, who is doing mental math manges to say, “Come on!”

The transmission begins to play again, and Shannon looks nervously at it, “Il est dehors….”

“It's... it's repeating,” she says.

“She's right,” Sayid adds.

Boone looks at Sayid, “What?”

“It's a loop,” Sayid begins, "’Iteration’—it's repeating the same message. It's a counter. The next number will end... ‘533’.”

Just as Sayid says, the radio blares, “Iteration 17294533.”

“Does anyone know what the hell he's talking about?” Sawyer says angrily.

“Sawyer please,” I add, but he doesn’t hear me.

“It's a running count of the number of times the message has repeated. It's roughly thirty seconds long, so... how long…” Sayid says as once again he tried to figure it out in his head.

“Don't forget to carry the one, chief,” Sawyer adds.

The radio begins again after, “Iteration 17294534.”

Shannon looks at the radio and starts to translate, “She's saying .. ‘Please’. She's saying, ‘Please help me. Please, come get me.’”

“Or she's not! You don't even speak French!” Sawyer shouts.

“Let her listen!” Kate yells back.

“Shut up, man!” Boone adds.

“Guys, the battery. The battery.” Charlie says nervously.

Once again the radio says, “Iteration 17294535.”

Shannon puts the radio up to her ear and says, “I'm alone now. Uhm... On the Island alone. Please, someone come. The others, they're... they're dead. I-it killed them. I-it killed them all.”

“That was good,” Boone reassured her.

“Sixteen years,” Sayid finally says.

“What?” Sawyer asks.

“Sixteen years. And five months. That's the count.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Boone asks.

“The iterations. It's a distress call,” Sayid starts, “A plea for help. A mayday. If the count is right... It's been playing over... and over... for sixteen years.”

“Someone else? Was stranded here?” Boone says worriedly.

“Maybe they came for them,” Kate speculates.

“If someone came, why is it still playing?” Sawyer adds.

“Agreed, you’d think then it wouldn’t matter if they’re rescued,” I say, but not really adding much to the conversation. It’s weird seeing them all talk like this, knowing who it is. They all still have hope they’ll be rescued.

“Guys,” Charlie says, “Where are we?”

LOST

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