#even more amusing is when they get so attached that separation which. was initially their goal. becomes a bad forced event | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fairestwriting · 3 years

Note

Wait a second! I absolutely adore that hcs where the boys helped mc get together with their vice dorm head. Then, what if its the other way around? 👀 may I request the vice dorm head's crush asking to set them up with their dorm heads now? You can exclude Ortho since well...he's a baby lol. Hehehehe. Thank you! Angst we go~

YEAHHH pain time lets go. im reusing the trey/riddle/reader childhood friend love triangle from that post btw because i liked that one so much. this is once again, So fucking long.

+ if you like my writing, you can buy me a ko-fi to support me!

Trey Clover

Trey was the one who introduced you to Riddle, all those years ago, when you were all just brats running around in the Country of Roses. Since then, the three of you had been pretty much inseparable.

Unlike Riddle, who was more on the reserved side when it came to affection, Trey was rather open with it. People just knew you were close, you spent most of your time off classes together, occasionally joined by Riddle. You all meant so much to each other, it felt like you'd just be together forever, just like this.

But things start to change when you find yourself wanting to be closer to Riddle. You saw him often, but it never felt like it was enough, he wouldn't leave your mind... you were starting to develop serious feelings for him, yet you didn't know what to do about it.

Riddle had become Heartslabyul's dorm leader recently, and he was taking his duties seriously, as seriously as he took everything else. He'd have less and less time for you and Trey, you didn't know how you could get your feelings through to him, who always had his head on his work. It just felt hopeless.

You couldn't handle all the pining anymore, so you decide to ask Trey for help. How could you communicate your feelings to Riddle when he felt so distant? You feel like the only person who could possibly know what to do would be Trey.

You come to him when he's baking by himself, lingering around the kitchen as you beat around the bush for a bit, but eventually spit out that you were in love with Riddle, and didn't know how to confess to him when things were like this. Trey stops his work for a second, surprised once he hears you had fallen for him... but then he looks at you with a smile in his face, and promises to help.

Of course, helping doesn't come without some teasing, but Trey does sincerely want to assist you. He'll ask you questions to understand the situation as well as he could, finding out how you two had been getting along lately.

So you spill all your worries to him, about how Riddle had barely been talking to you recently, how you were worried he’d reject you and it’d ruin your group’s chemistry. Trey takes in your words with an attentive stare, it somehow feels sour to hear them, like an unwanted change. Had he believed the three of you would have the same sort of relationship forever? That seemed so childish, but now that he had to think about this...

When you’re done venting, Trey ruffles your hair and declares you should bake him a tart, with his help of course -- Which is met with confusion, but as he begins getting the ingredients out, he explains how catching Riddle’s attention with something that would get the stress out of him would be a good way to start your confession.

You’re a bit overwhelmed by the idea of doing this now and today, but you go along with him. While you two are making the dessert, you go over what you should tell him. Trey guesses that Riddle’s distance did come from him not doing well lately, and he reassures that you three would still be friends no matter what, even if you got rejected. You were all mature enough to accept things as they are, weren’t you? You shouldn’t let your bond be shaken by something like this.

When you’re done, you have a tart in your arms and a plan in your head, feeling calm. Trey really did know how to help people, he’s such a good friend -- You make sure to tell him that as you hug him tight. Just a couple hours ago you had no idea what to do, now you knew the exact words to use when confessing your feelings to Riddle. You really did owe him one.

Trey just laughs it off as he hugs you back, wishing you good luck and saying he’ll be there for you no matter what. You pick the tart up and turn on your heel to leave, and his smile just dies immediately.

He feels like he’s missed an opportunity he never even really considered, but one might suppose you don’t know what you’ve lost until you’ve had it taken away -- Still, it’s you and Riddle, he can’t go against you. He just hopes you two are happy if you get together.

Jade Leech

Jade knows all of Azul’s friends, and you were no exception. Whether it was because Azul ordered him to keep an eye on you or because he was just curious, even though you didn’t talk much by yourselves, he did know who you were.

Being very observant, Jade’s already caught on to the fact that you liked Azul. It was funny watching you two dance around each other, he might have placed a bet with Floyd on when you’d get together -- But he definitely didn’t expect for you to come to him to ask for help on setting you two up.

That sparks Jade’s interest. You’d think he was suspicious, with how quickly he’s willing to help you, but the proposal just amuses him too much to deny it. He likes putting plans together, he’d been interested in your relationship with Azul, what more could he ask for?

You might not trust him that much initially, even if you came to him for help. It’s easy to be suspicious of Jade, after all, no one can tell what he’s thinking behind that poker faced smile after all. But he assures you that he had nothing to win if he messed up your relationship with Azul, and setting you two up seemed amusing, so he’d do it.

And so, Jade becomes your very own Azul teacher. Jade knows him as well as the palm of his hand, so he’ll explain some of his manneirisms to you, tell you about things he likes that he hides from the public, help you plot dates. He thinks it's cute how excited you get when you feel like you've gotten a new piece to your puzzle.

Early on, he doesn't see you as much more than someone to toy with, honestly. But your reactions are more interesting to watch than anyone else, you have this sparkle to you that sets you apart from other people. And he supposes that's the sort of person who would be good for Azul, yet...

He knows he's getting attached when it feels like the game grows stale. Soon, seeing Azul's rare flustered expressions and your determination paired together as you spent time with each other wasn't fun anymore. He was still helping, but even as he picked your outfit for this date, he can't help but feel jealous. He wants this to be for him.

Jade isn't nice enough that he'll play along until you feel like you've gotten close enough to Azul. No, whether they worked together or not, he wanted you to be his, he's more angry than anguished -- Painfully jealous.

One day, he simply declares that he won't be helping you anymore, cutting your long scheme short. You're shocked, asking why, and Jade tells you that from now on, you'd both be planning your own separate games. You could still try to win Azul's affections, but that would go on as he tried to win yours.

Rook Hunt

Everyone who knew about your crush on Vil had been telling you, he’s way out of everyone’s league, he probably gets thousands of confessions a day, he’s so popular and above this lowly world, one can’t just come up to him and ask him out.

Yet your feelings just don’t go away. You know it’s not some celebrity worship thing, that wasn’t why you got close to him -- Since you noticed how off he seemed to be during the VDC, you had wanted to know the real Vil, and from being a manager to the NRC performance, you two did end up close, and your curiosity was quickly turning into something else, as you caught more glimpses of his off-camera self...

But it all still felt so hopeless. As much as you didn’t want to believe others, you knew what they said held some truth to it, you couldn’t just walk up to Vil and confess your feelings, that wouldn’t work with someone who’s experienced that countless times. You needed to do something special, and you needed to get close to him properly.

You had spent some time thinking about this already, and came to the conclusion you just couldn’t do it alone, you needed help to go near Vil’s heart -- And what better helper than the one who seemed to be his best henchman, Rook Hunt himself? You weren’t all that close to him, but he seemed well intentioned enough, so he’d hopefully at least give you some tips...

You approach Rook at Pomefiore, embarrassed you were doing something like this, but you swallow down all your pride. When you tell him you have a problem you needed his help to solve, he’s already all ears, but when you tell him that it’s about you falling in love with Vil and not knowing what to do about it, it’s like something sparks inside of him.

There’s nothing more beautiful than love, Rook is immediately willing to help you win Vil’s heart. He’s dealt with Vil’s admirers before, but never like this, they just blurted out their feelings to him and didn’t seem capable of playing a longer game -- You, though, were different, and that told him you might just be the one for his oh-so-cold queen.

He’ll ask you about what you had in mind for the confession, what you knew about Vil already, all while taking you out for a walk near the dorm building. You two have a long conversation about Vil, and Rook doesn’t want you to spare a single detail about your feelings, he wants to know precisely and vividly why you’d fallen for him.

You two meet a couple times to talk about him. Rook tells you all the things he knows about Vil, so numerous you feel a little jealous, which he notices. He can’t get enough of all the expressions your emotions cause, you begin to look so radiant for him. A dedicated protagonist, working hard towards achieving the love of someone who seemed so far away from them... it just feels poetic, the thought of you shows up more and more often in his head.

Even though he’s teaching you the ways of a specific type of beauty, he learns that the one you have is even brighter than it. The one thing more beautiful than love is your yearning, it seems, your dedication and determination, the pure dreams you had of just making Vil happy.

The two of you plot an elaborate confession, he’d make sure you’d have a table in the Pomefiore building’s garden just to yourselves, so you could have tea together as the sun sets. You’re counting the days until your date excitedly, confident that you’ll get your feelings through to Vil, and Rook realizes he’ll have to let you go soon.

Oh, he does not want that -- Even if the thought of you in love with Vil was so stunning, the light of it felt like it blinded him. He thinks of all your expressions of affection towards the queen, and he wishes these were towards him, but he knows he has to accept his fate.

When he’s dropping you off at the date location, he kisses your hand and wishes you luck, telling you he’s so happy for you, though he admits that, as shameful as that was, he wishes nothing more than to be Vil right now. Your eyes go wide at the confession, you’re about to apologize, but Rook dismisses it, saying that he really is happy for you, and hopes you’re happy, too. It’s all genuine, just like your wish to win Vil’s affections that made you come to him.

Lilia Vanrouge

You two don't really know each other, at first. Even though you'd been meeting up with Malleus near Ramshackle often for a couple months now, you didn't really have other friends in the Diasomnia dorm -- You didn't tell Malleus about it, but you did find them intimidating.

You were catching some serious feelings for Malleus, though, and he seemed completely blind to every hint you dropped, intentional and unintentional, and desperate times requer desperate measures. You go over all Diasomnia members you knew, and Lilia seems like the most approachable one. You swallow down your unease, and tell him you needed to talk about something.

Lilia, being the decently welcoming person, agrees to meet you away from prying eyes, where you admit that you had been crushing on Malleus for months now, but had no idea what to do about it because he seemed completely immune to any of your hints and flirting. Lilia listens to you attentively, up until the point where you say that you wanted his help on asking him out properly.

He’s honestly surprised at your actions. There’s a sincerity and boldness to them he rarely sees on anyone else, it leaves an impression in his mind. Plus, the idea of Malleus finally being with someone makes him happy, look at him, he grew up so fast! Yeah, he’s definitely up for helping you.

You two talk it out for a while, he asks about what you had been doing to try to catch Malleus’ attention. You explain all the implications you’d been slipping into your speech, all the compliments and the casual touching that made your heart explode everytime you engaged in, but you still did it because you wanted Malleus to know that hey, you liked him. When you’re done spilling your woes, Lilia chuckles, and asks you if you wanted to try doing this in a way he’d understand better.

You don’t know what he means at first, but before you can ask it, Lilia tells you he’d teach you how dragon fae court each other, that would surely get the message through to Malleus! Your eyes go wide at the suggestion, and you immediately agree to it. That’s a plan that wouldn’t fail, right?

And Lilia is nothing if not a good teacher. He takes you to the library to skim books, making sure you have some of the basics about fae culture down before getting to the real stuff. You turn out to be one of his best students, too, you two end up becoming quite the undefeatable pair -- And you become friends, too, your studying sessions are peppered with small conversations about unrelated things.

Lilia just gets fascinated with you. He finds you so interesting to be around, with your willingness to learn and diligence, but he really grows to love the idealistic, sort of hopeless romantic side of you, who was so in love with Malleus and willing to put all this work to make everything go well with him. You just seem so pure, not as in naive, but as in kind and genuine. People like that are surprisingly rare.

When you get to the gift giving portion, the most important one, you’re learning faster than ever, the excitement in your eyes never leaving. Lilia is happy and proud of you -- But when he starts seeing you wear Malleus’ jewelry gifts around, even though he instructed you to do so, he finds himself not liking to stare at it.

He knows himself enough to know what this means, and, really, how stupidly ironic it was. Lilia really did get attached to you while trying to set you up with someone else, this didn’t even feel like something that should happen in real life. It stings, but he goes on with his mission, he wouldn’t just leave things as they were.

Your confession would involve gifting him a gem Lilia got you, one meant specifically for love confessions like these, as he instructed. Your eyes glitter when he puts it in your hands, telling you that now you were ready to actually ask Malleus out -- And with how things looked like, it seemed he was trying to get his feeling through to you too. He’s sure you won’t be rejected, and makes sure you know that.

You thank Lilia, saying you wouldn’t forget how helpful he’d been to you. Lilia smiles and says you don’t have to thank him -- Just make sure Malleus and you are a happy couple, even if he hates to look at it.

You don’t understand what he means with this, but when you’re about to ask, he disappears into thin air, leaving nothing but a glittering trail behind. He never mentions what he’d said again, even when you stay friends after the confession.

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twst x reader #trey clover #jade leech #rook hunt #lilia vanrouge #trey clover x reader #jade leech x reader #rook hunt x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lis writing

185 notes · View notes

wolf-and-bard · 3 years

Text

The Geraskier Dungeons and Dragons AU of my dreams (inspired by the TAD AMA and Joey apparently being an amazing dm):

-"Why do you hate fun," Eskel complains - for the fifth time that day - after Geralt refused his invitation to a new DnD campaign - for the fifth time that day. Geralt doesn't hate fun. He hates play-acting and games, especially if they rely on luck and are overly complicated, he hates big groups of people, and he hates being told stories. Dungeons and Dragons encompasses all of those aspects and that is why Geralt avoids it like the plague. "It's not for me," he mutters and hands Eskel the sandwiches he made for him to take to work. - "But this Jaskier guy is legendary, like I heard he's the best Dungeonmaster in the state." - "Likely an exaggeration...." - "Pleeaaaase. I had to bribe the hell out of Aiden to have him give up the two spots he had." That piques Geralt's interest. "What'd you bribe him with?" Eskel scratches his head sheepishly. "I may have sold our brother's hand in marriage." - "That's ballsy for you... does Lambert know of his luck yet?" Eskel shakes his head and Geralt huffs a laugh. His brothers are unbelievable, one so nerdy it makes up for Geralt's complete lack of interest in pop culture, the other an oblivious prick that tends to get arrested for being offensive. Ciri is their only hope. "So are you coming?" - "Absolutely no way."

-Geralt doesn't want to go and until half an hour before the game is supposed to start, he keeps his resolve. But then Eskel bursts into their shared living room - their flat is still attached to their father's house, but separate enough that it feels like their own; Lambert has a type penthouse suite to himself and Ciri still lives with Vesemir in the main house - with an excited blush and wearing a WoW shirt and the biggest, brightest puppy eyes, and begs Geralt on hands and knees to come with him. "Why though?" Geralt asks. "Would be more fun if I stayed away..." - "But I'm awkward and your pretty face may distract from that." - "Esk, we have the same face." Which is true, save for... oh. The scars. Of course, Geralt wants to smack himself. Eskel always tends to be more self-conscious in groups of new people because of his marred face, an accident in the zoo when they were young. He believes having Geralt with him shows other people how he is supposed to look like. Geralt doesn't believe it's a great coping mechanism, but he can never deny his twin anything. "Fuck," he grumbles and a triumphant grin blooms over Eskel's features.

-That first session is to go over the basics for anyone who needs a refresher and to talk about what each player expects from the campaign bla bla bla; Geralt doesn't contribute more than the odd grunt and is soon distracted by Jaskier's bright eyes, his pretty mouth, his whole energetic demeanor... he develops a little fixation over the course of the evening and gives up on trying to understand the game

-Jaskier approaches him after, while everyone else is exchanging notes on their characters, excited and electric and Geralt hasn't the first clue on what to do. A light hand on his shoulder, a welcoming smile. "Geralt, right?" Geralt nods curtly and Jaskier pulls up a chair and sits. Way too close for Geralt's comfort. He doesn't... mind? Fuck are those butterflies? Already? "If you have trouble figuring out your character, we could always do a private session to get you going. What do you say?" - "Saturday," Geralt grunts in reply. Jaskier claps delightedly, then is distracted by one of the women, Calanthe Geralt recalls, asking if she can play a lioness shapeshifter. He lets Eskel collect him, endures his brother's constant prattle on the ride back. He dares to give the whole thing a shot.

-Their private session starts out with Jaskier explaining different classes of characters, a few bottles of Geralt's favourite Redanian Lager on the side. He tries to listen, at least at first. But then Jaskier keeps licking froth from his lips and some of the perspiration from the cold bottles runs down his exposed neck and fuck, Geralt just can't stop himself. Eskel said over and over that Jaskier was basically a magician, but Geralt thought that would be restricted to the game. Nope. His dick definitely twitches when Jaskier leans over him to grab the dice Geralt brought upon Eskel's recommendation. Geralt catches a whiff of his shampoo - vanilla? - and Jaskier's arm brushes Geralt and well. He lets out a low whine. Jaskier hums a question mark, but when he sees the look on Geralt face his encouraging smile turns devilish, knowing. "Good," he breathes, drops the dice and climbs onto Geralt's lap. "I thought it was only me." Geralt catches Jaskier's hips and they kiss. No classes are studied that day, no alignments picked, no attributes determined. Instead, Geralt learns all the beautiful noises Jaskier can make, learns some of his own anew. They will need another private session to make up for lost time

-"Perhaps I should just design a character for you," Jaskier pants into Geralt's neck as he slow-fucks him on their couch, Eskel being out with Lambert to clear up the whole Aiden thing. It's the third time they're meeting to figure out Geralt's character. Geralt grunts and accelerates just enough to keep them both on the edge. His skin is burning and Jaskier writhes, his shoulders littered with bite marks. "Oh, fuck, Geralt, please." Later, Geralt agrees to Jaskier's suggestion. He makes him pancakes for breakfast.

-When the first session is well underway, everyone quickly realizes that this game really isn't for Geralt. He tries, he does. Jaskier was kind, gave him a stoic half-orc warrior that communicates mostly with grunts, but he still doesn't get all the rules and Calanthe is getting impatient with him, her boyfriend Eist amused by this, and Eskel keeps throwing the dice for Geralt, and these girls, Téa and Véa, stare daggers at him. Jaskier's watches it all with amusement, gently steering the group back towards their adventure - not that Geralt has the first clue what their objective is. But Geralt wants to keep playing if only because Jaskier is so fucking beautiful in his element, imitating voices, using the most ridiculous vocabulary, glowing with pure joy. It's a privilege to see, Geralt understands that now. And he has to thank Eskel for taking him despite his reservations

-"Won't you go on a normal date with me?" Geralt asks one night when they are wrapped up in Jaskier's bed, contented and tired from their earlier activities. "I could take you hunting or whatever." - "That's what you call a normal date?" Jaskier laughs and kisses him lightly. They haven't defined whatever it is they're doing, but Geralt is in no rush. Especially because he hasn't yet dared to breach the topic with Eskel who quickly befriended Jaskier (and everyone else of course, at the end of the day Eskel is a social butterfly, no matter what scars he bears). "Just... go out with me." - "You know, usually I have a strict policy for dating players, but... well that's already way out the window so, yeah, okay. I'll go out with you. But we're absolutely not going hunting, I'm a vegetarian." Alas, there had to be some catch.

-Geralt keeps playing and his permanent confusion becomes part of his character as well. It isn't ideal, but the others - and Jaskier's forgiving storytelling - drag him through to the end of it. By then, Geralt almost gets it. "Well," Jaskier concludes. "That was a bit of a different campaign. Hope you all liked it." The bastard acts abashed. Hah. Geralt and Eskel are the last ones to leave after they all toasted and talked about playing again some time. "You coming?" Eskel asks, hovering near the door. He's long past his initial anxiety, his fangirling, his self-consciousness. That too has been a glorious part of this, seeing Eskel unfold, gain confidence, be at ease. He likes that he could give his brother the safety he needed. "I, uhm," Geralt starts, but Jaskier interrupts by threading his arm through Geralt's. "We are! What's for dinner?" And he drags Geralt past Eskel who raises a brow. Geralt tries to communicate with his eyes all he neglected to tell Eskel. It's only because they're so close that Eskel at least understands that they are something like boyfriends now. He laughs.

-"My baby brother," Eskel lulls later when Jaskier is already passed out from too much wine and Geralt and him stand outside, sharing a rare cigarette. He ruffles Geralt head. "I'd wondered why you stuck around so long." - "Fuck off," Geralt says.

-The next time Eskel invites him to a campaign, Geralt tags along. Not because he particularly wants to, but because now there are two pairs of puppy eyes, begging him, and he can't say no to either of them, let alone both (maybe someday he will actually enjoy the game for its own merits)

124 notes · View notes

jui-imouto-chan · 3 years

Text

Ouran High School Host Club AU (Inspired by this post)

Yes, I used everybody they offered as the characters (and more!), it’s just a really big club.

(It will 200% get bigger if I keep writing this, don’t test me)

Ship Tags: MiyaHina, AtsuHina, OsaHina, OiHina, KurooHina, BokuHina, AkaaHina, TsukiHina, UshiHina, AoHina, HyakuHina, NishiHina/NoyaHina, Hinata Harem aka Hinata/Everyone.

Loosely follows plot, but a few things have been changed to match Haikyuu more, such as:

•Hinata isn’t an honor-student, he’s on an athletics scholarship (and while there are plenty of decent athletes there, they’re all rich enough to not need a scholarship)

•Hinata wears blue-light glasses often. He has good vision but having the glasses framing his vision helps him focus in class instead of getting (as) distracted.

•Yachi and Hinata switch off on some Haruhi stuff but Yachi isn’t the one the guys are all simping for.

•Yachi is an actual honor student but she’s not on the kinda full-ride scholarship Hinata is on. She’s like, partially rich, but not enough for Ouran (so she gets bullied or at least teased.)

•Hinata and Yachi got to be really good friends at orientation since she can sympathize with him better than all the actual rich people, and she helps him with his studies so he doesn’t completely flunk his classes.

•The Twins, like Hikaru and Kaoru, have the same color hair (brunette) atm

•Hinata’s mom is a drag king to parallel Haruhi’s dad’s sitch

•Oikawa doesn’t let Iwaizumi into the club because he kills his eccentricity and egotism. None of the others can vibe check him the way Iwa-Chan does so that’s why he seems even more unbearable and thus more Tamaki-like.

••

Hinata tried to figure out where Yachi disappeared to, peering down halls and into classrooms through small openings of the doors. “Yachi-saaaan...”

He barely registered the vague scent of roses and sweets saturating the air as he pushed the door softly.

The wood swung open as though pulled, Hinata stumbling through with a shout. A breeze and rose petals drifted by his face as he opened his eyes, head whipping up to view the silhouettes of the boys not too far from the door.

“Welcome to the Harukou Host Club!”

“Th-The... --What’s a host club?”

Hinata watched as all of the boys’ faces fell into befuddlement.

“W-What a funny joke,” a brunet, sat upon a throne-like chair, commented, his fingers interlocked beneath his chin. “Isn’t that cute? Trying to win our hearts with humor.”

“But--”

“So, what kind of guys do you like? We’ve got plenty of types to spare, and I don’t think any of them have any problem attending to a male--ah, sorry, what’re your pronouns? That was rude of me to assume.”

Hinata’s instinctive, “He/him,” came out before he could attach his protests at the services offered, his stress elevating as the brunet hopped out of his chair and sauntered over to him, hands extended in shows of eccentricity.

“We haven’t gotten a boy, yet, huh, ‘Tsumu?” one of the guys still in the group commented, his arm draped over the shoulder of his exact copy (sans the parting of the brown locks).

“No, but that’s because the only boys we’re involved with are each other,” the copy, ‘Tsumu(?), said, grabbing the other’s chin to hold his gaze. They stared into each other’s eyes for a second before their faces got a little green, the two of them separating to mime vomiting whilst laughing.

Hinata had to tune back into the brunet approaching him, who seemed to be going off on a tirade about beauty and elegance. He tuned back out almost immediately, finding even schoolwork to be more interesting.

“’Tsumu and ‘Samu are awful at the twincest-schtick, don’tcha think?”

“Right? I thought so, too. We’d be ten bajillion times better at it if we were identical twins!”

The ravenette rolled his eyes, although he drew in the other smugly. “Identical or not, the reason we work is because I’m a good actor.” Then, placatingly, he amended, “And you’re not hard to tease and smother with affection.”

His silver companion’s eyes lit up. “Man, you’re so cool, Kuroo.”

“Make sure to call me Tetsu when there are girls here.”

“Oooh do I get a nickname? Like, Kouta instead of Koutaro?”

Kuroo grinned, “Don’t give me an offer like that. I’ll call you Honey or Beloved, and while we’re raking in the cash, Akaashi’ll sell a bunch of merchandise with it.”

Another ravenette, probably Akaashi, nodded calmly as he penciled into his notebook. Beside him, a tall blonde smirked, his glasses flashing menacingly as he tapped away into a calculator. Kuroo and the silveret both paled and protested at him, which he seemed to ignore.

Speaking of ignoring things...

“You’ve been talking a long time, haven’t you?”

The brunet, knelt on the floor near a table, glanced over at him like he forgot who he was talking at. “Is that praise of my oratory skills? I’ve always been told that people get lost in my speeches, and it’s no surprise that you’ve gotten so enthralled with one!”

Seems like I wasn’t the only one who got lost, Hinata thought, noting the despondent, glazed eyes of some of the occupants. A short guy with a patch of blonde hair jumped up into a handstand on the shoulders of one of the taller guys in the back with white hair, and it was made evident that, no, some of them just always appeared completely detached from reality.

“So, anyway, what kind of guy is your type, Mr. Athlete? Maybe you like the cool type? The boy lolita?”

“—I AM NOT THAT SHORT—”

“You are quite that short,” the brunette continued, “Or maybe you like the strong silent type? —We have three of those. We also have twins—identical and fraternal— if you’re into the taboo kinda stuff. We don’t kinkshame here.”

“Maybe we should,” muttered the blonde guy with the calculator. His mouth was covered by a silver-haired guy with black ends, whose face betrayed no emotion even as the blonde fought against his palm irately.

“I’m not into this kind of thing,” Hinata said quickly, “Besides, doesn’t it cost money? I don’t think I’d be able to afford something like this, anyway.”

“Speaking of not being able to afford things... Shouldn’t we check up on her?” Probably-Akaashi motioned to a corner of the room with a piano and a familiar blonde girl hiding beneath its bench, sobbing meekly into her knees.

“Yachi-san!”

Hinata raced over to her, her head whipping up at his call. Her teary eyes let loose some sparkling droplets as she leapt at him, although the rope binding her ankles to the bench prevented her from fully reaching him. He thankfully was close enough that he saved her from a tumble to the floor.

“Hinataaaa,” she whined into his shoulder, “I’m going to have to sell my organs!!!”

“What!?”

“She came into our clubroom earlier and broke the vase we were supposed to sell at an auction,” explained one of the twins.

“It was worth eight million yen, and she told us she doesn’t have enough money but that she’ll sell her organs in order to pay us back, which is impressive in the dedication but very concerning.”

“We had Wakatoshi-kun put her on the bench to calm down, but she tied herself to it because she thought she would be our prisoner as a punishment.”

Yachi clearly tuned them out, too busy crying and hiding in Hinata’s arms. The redhead patted her on the head, wondering how things could get this weird in less than twenty minutes of her being out of his sight.

“Yachi-san.”

No response. Her blubbers were even less coherent now.

“Yachi-san!” He shook her by the shoulders until she blinked up at him. “I’ll help you, okay? Just promise me you’ll be more careful. And help me with my homework again!”

“Hinata...”

He grinned at her and patted her head. When he turned back to the group of boys, he could see they parted somewhat to allow the brunet to be visible whilst lounging on his throne that was turned to face them.

“I’ll be taking on Yachi-san’s debt,” he declared. The brunet rested his cheek on his fist and peered down his nose at him, smirk drawing his lips.

‘Kuroo’ spoke up, “Hoh? All eight million? Are you sure you can make it up, Chibi-chan?”

“You couldn’t even afford a school uniform; how do you plan to pay us back?” said the blonde guy, eyeing his white-and-pink tracksuit with no lack of judgment.

“I’ll...” Hinata glanced back at Yachi, her eyes glistening, and steeled his resolve, “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Then, Chibi-chan, from here on,” the brunet guy’s voice, initially dropped, lilted upward as his amusement mounted, "You’ll be our bitch.”

“What.”

•

Hinata frowned at the smudges all over his lenses, ignoring the twins (both sets) measured him for his uniform.

He almost didn’t notice when Kuroo bent down to meet his eye-level and gently grasped the frames of his blue-light glasses. “Alright, Chibi-chan, we’ll be taking these. Though it doesn’t even seem like you need them, huh, since these lenses don’t really have any magnification?”

“Well, no, but since we have a lot of work on laptops here I thought they’d be better to have.”

Kuroo hummed and slipped them off his ears and nose, and all of the twins gawked at him as he blinked up at them.

“What?”

Osamu kicked Atsumu’s calf, and the Miyas dragged Bokuto away with them.

“Nothing,” said Kuroo, “Maybe they just forgot you’d have a face behind these.”

“Oh, I’ve done that before! Like when people are sick for a long time and they wear a mask, I kinda forget they have mouths!”

“Yeah, just like that.”

•

“What kind of coffee is this?” The brunet, now known to be Oikawa Tooru, asked, beckoning Hinata over with the most obnoxious “come-hither” motion to ever exist.

“Instant. I don’t really understand coffee, but this is what my mom buys. It’s just cheap enough that I still have money for lunch.”

Oikawa sputtered at Hinata’s lackluster funding for his nutrition, although his mind finished processing what was said about the coffee itself before he could really express any amount of disbelief at the former.

“What do you mean ‘instant’? Are the beans already ground or something?”

Hinata blinked. “Coffee’s made of beans?”

Oikawa sighed heavily and drew up to his full height, holding the coffee container skyward as a few girls approached for their hosting appointment.

“Alright, you know what? I’m up for a challenge! I’m going to try some commoner’s coffee!”

The girls in the clubroom gave shrieks of surprise, Oikawa’s announcement drawing the attention of the entire room. Hinata longingly and despondently stared outside at the people running around the track and beginning practices for their various sports, allowing himself to be dragged away by the club president.

“Darn rich people,” he mumbled.

•

Oikawa was very clingy, Hinata found. Every spare second he had at the club was spent with the other nearby, coddling him and encouraging him to learn up close. It was so draining that the Miya Twins and the Fraternals dragging him into their games was infinitely more appealing, but that could also be his bias for Bokuto coming into play.

Kuroo was cool, too, yes, and the Miya Twins gave him food, but Bokuto’s energy was so perfectly aligned with his that Kuroo whined about his brother being snatched away on multiple occasions.

This time, with Oikawa monologuing as dramatically as ever, Hinata had no sets of twins to free him from the absolutely boring speech. He spaced out so hard, he didn’t notice Oikawa coming closer and hugging him to his chest excitedly.

He shouted, the fright sending tears into his eyes, and he reached desperately at the tall trio nearby. “Help!”

All three of them instinctively drew closer, but it was the white-haired eyebrowless one who pulled him out of Oikawa’s grasp by the armpits, Hinata’s legs dangling in the air while the brunette sat stupefied.

“A-Aone-kun, you didn’t have to go so far...” Oikawa tried.

Hinata smiled at Aone in thanks and patted his head gently to express further gratitude. Whence he was placed down, Aone bowed to him, and he bowed back.

•

Nishinoya was a very fun person to be around, although their interactions were sparse. He shone under the attention from the girls, and if Hinata didn’t know the girls were paying for his time, he’d have assumed the reverse was true. But it made sense, you know, since Noya-san was just such a cool dude.

The girls cooed at him and giggled at his jokes, and his dorky personality coupled with his small-but-wild looks made him a charmer. He also offered Hinata cake on a frequent basis, and often accosted the others to make sure they ate up--especially Tsukishima, who seemed prickly enough that Hinata didn’t want to get near him with a ten foot pole.

Unfortunately, Tsukishima was also the one mostly in charge of handling his debt, so he could not actually be avoided. Hinata was assured by Akaashi that he’d remove any undue charges Tsukishima would add to the debt, although Hinata would’ve preferred he hadn’t said anything about those undue charges and just did the removals with Hinata none-the-wiser, as then he wouldn’t be paranoid about the things Tsukishima would charge him for.

•

Hinata hadn’t meant to attract the attention of one of Oikawa’s most attached clients. She gave off a weird vibe and when he mentioned her to Yachi, the blonde girl went a little paler than usual (which, while a frequent occurrence, didn’t fail to raise alarm bells in the redhead’s mind).

“She’s territorial,” Yachi managed, eventually, and Hinata had to go through all of the lessons the girl kindly drilled into his head in order to remember what that word meant.

“Oh. So why would she be interested in a guy at a host club? Isn’t he, like, one step from prostitution?” Yachi choked at that, shaking her head to fight down any amusement.

“I don’t think she thinks those other girls are a threat.”

Hinata hummed, “Well, she keeps glaring at me, so maybe she’s just a little dumb and confused.”

Yachi pursed her lips, barely able to keep her laughter contained.

•

Hinata wondered why Yachi’s schoolbag was tossed into the pond. Alongside it sat his, and as he began running through the halls to go attend to the issue, he spotted that client.

Hinata quite pointedly ignored her, continuing down the halls and stairs. He felt a small flame of rage light up in his chest at seeing Yachi’s notebooks scattered across the surface of the water, covers just buoyant enough that the papers were only starting to soak in water, and he prioritized getting her items out and organized before he could even ponder grabbing his own.

He’d been in the pond for twenty minutes, thankfully having managed to salvage most of her things, before a voice broke through the quiet of the grounds. “What are you doing?”

Hinata didn’t need to glance over his shoulder to know it was Oikawa, his voice light and airy, with a hint of playful exasperation.

“I can’t find my wallet.”

“You’ll get sick with your clothes all wet. Can’t you just let it be?”

Oikawa didn’t seem to understand the necessity of what he’d likely consider pocket change. “I need the money for food. I’m not going to get paid for a couple days and I don’t want to starve in the meantime.”

There was a lengthy period of silence. He wondered if Oikawa left, trying desperately to make out the shape of his coin pouch amidst the colorful pebbles lining the bottom of the pond. He nearly growled in frustration as a series of ripples tore through surface, though as he heard the telltale sound of someone wading through water, he spotted the brunette with his pants rolled up and bare feet gingerly resting on the stone.

“What are you doing?” Hinata quarried, eyebrows drawn up in confusion.

Oikawa’s face was concentrated yet somewhat peaceful as he copied Hinata’s searching motions, fingers gliding across the smooth pebbles. A few strands of hair caught the water and were left with shimmering drips that occasionally fell back into the pond.

“I’m helping.”

He never turned to look away from the bottom, focused mostly on the task at hand. Even his distant, deeper, and yet airier voice conveyed how little attention he was giving his words, and Hinata could only wonder if this was the most genuine he’d ever heard the other in their past week of interactions.

“Why?”

“Well, why not? I mean, everyone tells me I’m dripping with good looks,” he chuckled, the breathy quality sending something through Hinata that made him duck his head down and resume seeking his funds.

The two sought it out for over ten minutes before getting any results. The small coin purse, shaped like a small black crow, sat cradled in Oikawa’s palm. He proffered the item to Hinata with a wink, the redhead unclasping it and sighing in relief at the dryness of its interior.

“Thanks, Grand King.”

As Hinata beamed up at the other, the reflected light from the water seemed to hit Oikawa’s eyes harder, as though a flare traveled across the distance between the earth and the sun solely for this moment. He held up a peace sign and smiled back at the other, wondering if such luminance could ever be reproduced.

(If it could, then he’d love to bottle some up and save it for a rainy day, but maybe there was a hint of greed in that thought.)

•

“Oh, dear, I can’t believe someone would do such a thing!” the client across from him cooed. Her face tilted down a bit, and shadows draped across her eyes and cheeks. “Still, I can’t believe you got Tooru to scrape through that filthy pond for you. He always has been excessively charitable.”

“Yeah,” Hinata mumbled, stuffing a bite of cake into his mouth. The sweetness was significantly dampened by the presence of the girl. What was her name, again? His focus shifted to trying to recall it.

“I couldn’t imagine having so little shame that I’d be a charity case, though. I mean, doesn’t it embarrass you to have Tooru waiting on you hand and foot?”

Yachi, who’d been standing just within earshot, turned to their conversation just then, a disgruntled look on her face. Despite the anxiety that spread quivers across her body from her sternum, she frowned heavily and managed to inquire, "Aren’t you just jealous?”

Something flashed across the clients face then: anger, most likely. Hinata was drawn out of his attempt at recollection by her hand shooting across the table to yank him over to her, a scream escaping her as they toppled to the ground. Teapots and cups burst apart upon contact with the pink tiles, some of the tea soaking into the knees of his gifted uniform pants as it puddled.

Hinata’s palms and wrists ached from the way they slammed against the floor, on either side of the client’s head. People were quick to crowd them, murmuring and gazing in horror.

“Help!” she cried, “He attacked me! He just jumped across the table, I--” she scooted out from under him, and he slowly sat back on his haunches before accidentally falling onto his bottom. The discomfort of his soaked clothing did little to distract him from the confusion welling within.

She crawled over to Oikawa whence the brunette stepped closer to the scene. He was the first one over, ever keen regarding the club’s new pet, but only after surveying the situation did he close the distance.

Her fingers clutched at Oikawa’s pant leg, creasing the fabric as she shivered with tears in her eyes. Hinata’s jaw was slack. Did he do something? Did he try to do anything to her while he was spaced out? He was sure she pulled him, but should he have been expecting such a thing and made to avoid it?

He slowly turned his eyes over to Yachi, whose face was creased in an anger he’d never quite seen before. Her meekness took a sideline to the frustration and disbelief drawing together her brows and tugging her lips downwards.

“Tooru, please, you have to do something. He was like an animal, I--”

Her desperate face fell into shock as warm water rushed across her face and scalp, soaking the top of her uniform dress. Her panting became a squeaking staccato, and she blinked as her brows drew up steadily.

“Tooru?” she whispered, before whipping her head around to the Miya Twins, who glared down at her, unimpressed. “What are you doing? Didn’t you hear me?! I--”

“God, you pigs sure like to squeal, don’tcha.”

Osamu glanced down at the jug in his grasp. “I oughtta grab another one at this rate.”

“Why did you--” Hinata startled as Yachi stepped in front of him.

“You pulled him to you! I saw it! You were envious that he got Oikawa-san’s attention and tried to frame him!” she blurted.

More whispers and gasps spread across their audience easily. Oikawa’s face was steely and impassive as the client stared up at him with a cocktail of hurt and anger. “You can’t believe her, Tooru, I--”

“You really are beautiful,” Oikawa interrupted, his fingers gliding under her chin. “But nothing more than that. It seems you’re not classy enough for our club, my dear, and so I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks, Hinata’s heart clenching with a mild bit of sympathy, before she got to her feet and took off, her broken shout of, “Tooru, you idiot--!” echoing through the clubroom.

“I’m sorry, ladies; regrettably, we’ll have to cut our time short for today.” Tsukishima said with his paper-thin smile. It dropped as Akaashi continued for him,

“All of you will receive a full refund of the costs for today’s appointments. You can also use those same funds to reschedule, if you’d like to. We deeply apologize for the inconvenience.”

The girls cooed and cheered, and Tsukishima barely kept his frown from forming.

Eventually the clients filed out of the clubroom, exclaiming their farewells to the hosts. Hinata and Yachi silently stared after them, not wanting to look back to the hosts surrounding them.

“So, what should I do about you?” Oikawa said, drawing Hinata’s reluctant attention. The appraising look and grasp of his own chin were not reassuring at all; Hinata and Yachi glanced at each other and gulped. “Hmm, Tsukki-chan?”

“Don’t call me that,” the bespectacled blonde groused, before pushing up his glasses and smirking. “Since our guests had to leave and receive refunds, our profits for today are at a zero. And because of the drama earlier, we have a few broken teapots and cups from one of our specialty sets, as well as a table that needs to be repaired. To make up for all the damages and overall loss... Akaashi?”

The ravenette typed into a calculator quickly. Bokuto hid behind a sinisterly-grinning Kuroo with his fingers half-heartedly covering his eyes from fear of Akaashi. Akaashi presented the calculator screen within a second.

“Approximately one hundred thousand yen.”

“H-Hundred...”

“Thou...-sand...” Yachi’s eyes swam. Hinata caught her as she half-fainted, both of them shaking with tears welling in their eyes.

“That’ll be added onto your debt, you two. You’d better hope one of your descendents pays it off.” Tsukishima’s smirk shaved additional years off their lives, and Hinata had to pull Yachi’s soul back from the air to shove it back into her body.

“Darn rich people,” he whined. Kuroo cackled.

••

That was fun ngl. Like, some things go slightly different than in OHSHC, but overall it has some of the same vibes I think

I feel like Bokuto and Akaashi as Honey and Mori respectively would be funnily fitting despite the roles I have them in here, but I think I’m gonna be fluid and loosey-goosey about who is which OHSHC character most of the time (since Noya isn’t entirely Honey-like and there are lots of people who can fit different roles). Kenma and/or Kuroo can fit Kyoya and Tamaki roles too, now that I think about it. Damn this show for having so many characters.

Also this is a nightmare to tag since a lot of characters have multiple spellings for their names and there are so many characters. Heck, that’s why I wrote all the ships at the top!

Anyway, I hope y’all liked it! Might write more if asked

Also, should I cross-post some of this to Ao3?

#akaashi keiji akashi #tsukishima tsukki kei #nishinoya yu yuu #aone takanobu #ushijima wakatoshi #hinata shoyo shouyou shouyo shoyou #oikawa tooru tohru toru #hyakuzawa yudai yuudai #bokuto kotaro koutaro kotarou koutarou #kuroo tetsuroo kuro tetsuro #tetsurou #miya osamu #miya atsumu #miya twins #yachi hitoka #ouran hs hc au #haikyu haikyuu hq

74 notes · View notes

satrangee-ray · 3 years

Text

The Snack of a Lifetime

Book: Open Heart 3 and beyond.

Pairing(s): Ethan × NB!MC {Dr Inara Hepburn (she/they)}.

Rating: Teen+

Summary: Inara barges into the DT room with some obnoxious snacks to force Ethan into taking a break. But is that all they have in mind, or will their brilliant plan saved for later take him by pleasant surprise?

Category: Fluff, banter, life decisions and celebrations 🎉😁✌.

Trope: Weddings and Proposals.

Warning(s): one or two swear words, mention of a sex act.

Writer's note: By the time this starts, Ethan and MC have already said their 'I love you's, are in a committed relationship, and more or less everyone knows about it. In my original HC for Inara and Ethan they don't get married this early, so this is kind of an AU cause I really wanted to write a proposal fic. Also the whole lawsuit drama didn't happen, cause I said so, and most sane people would agree.

Ethan wasn't used to receiving.

It was apparent in the way he interacted with the world, immediately getting suspicious of anyone who would remotely extend some sort of courtesy towards him.

He knew if he ever wanted to have something for himself, no one but he would have to take initiative to go get it. And for two-way processes like relationships, he had no belief whatsoever on the legitimacy of such things.

That was until Inara waltzed into his life, and amazed him with the possibility that he could be on the receiving end of good things without having to worry about any strings attached. Be it love, or a blowjob, or "care", as he previously liked to call it– the best things life ever had to offer were simply falling into his lap, and he couldn't find himself complaining.

Inara cared, in the truest sense of the word.

She cared enough to take off his glasses and cover him up in warm blankets, whenever he would fall asleep with an open medical journal in his hands. She cared enough to know just how he liked his coffee, or to school his scotch habits whenever they would get a little out of hand. And presently, she cared enough to let him work overtime, by agreeing to grab lunch with Tobias instead.

Ethan couldn't afford to take breaks. These days, he had to work even in between shifts, to finish editing his second medical book decently before it's approaching release date.

(One month before Inara's board exams)

The diagnostics office sat deserted, except for one doctor. A wooden desk, with papers sprawled all around. Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose, as he kept his glasses aside.

Suddenly the office door swung open, and three figures strolled in. Two practically tumbled, giggling overenthusiastically. The third one was Harper, who calmly walked in holding a tray, and shook her head with an amused expression.

Ethan looked up, and saw Tobias and Inara, each triumphantly holding up all their 10 fingers at him.

"Ring Chips!" Inara squealed, running towards Ethan. "Si baked these last night, and brought them as extra snacks for her fourteen hour shift today, but of course, we managed to hog some. So dig in!"

Ethan cautiously eyed the bright yellow crisps looped through Inara's fingers, and said, "you're not expecting me to eat those atrocities, are you?"

"Did you just call Sienna's baked goods an atrocity? That's wrong on so many levels E, lemme just get her on the phone..."

"NO", Ethan replied on high alert.

"That's what I thought. Cause bold words for someone who struggles even with a pancake."

Tobias and Harper chuckled, struggling in vain to stifle it.

"Fine, give me one here", Ethan said, extending his hand towards Harper's tray which contained the particular baked snacks.

"Nope, that's not the way", Inara stopped him, slapping his hand. "If you're doing this, you gotta do it right."

A loud exhale escaped Ethan. "What now, Rookie?"

"E, you can't just pick one chip and eat it, okay? You gotta slip it through your finger, and try to grab it with your mouth, the childhood nostalgia way. Like this."

Inara brought their hand to their mouth, and swallowed one whole finger, sucking on it until the chip looped through it flew backwards into their mouth. They proceeded to chew on it, staring straight into Ethan's eyes.

He was so screwed.

Turning away from Inara's gaze with tremendous effort, he wordlessly picked up a chip loop from the tray and tried to slip it into his finger.

"Too small", Tobias remarked, and handed him another. "Try a bigger one."

This time the ring effortlessly slipped through his finger, sitting perfectly at it's base. Ethan stared at it, perplexed, for a few moments.

"Yes! Now consume it with your mouth", Inara's excited cheers continued.

Harper couldn't hold in a scoff, while the youngest doctor in the room remained blissfully unaware of the implications of their phrase.

Ethan's mouth opened in protest, but he realized it's futility immediately and decided to close it. Scrunching up his entire face, in disbelief that he was actually doing this, he lowered his head, and slowly raised his hand to his face.

When his finger holding the chip was well within his reach, he opened his mouth once again to grab it. But just when he was about to take the bite, Inara acted quickly and slipped the chip out of his finger, causing Ethan to bite into his own skin instead.

"Aahh, Nars what the hell! Are you nuts?"

The three other doctors in the room unabashedly cracked up now, not bothering to hide their glee in Ethan being tortured like that.

Inara began stroking his beard softly, before leaving a quick kiss on his cheek.

Shades of light pink took over it in response.

"You should have acted faster, honey", Inara said, taking his hands into theirs. Another gentle peck landed on his lips.

"Now I'm already running late, there's this patient I have to check on, gotta yeet. But you better finish the rest of those snacks, along with the real food we brought you for lunch, and for God's sake, please look up from those damn papers for five minutes, and take a freakin' chill pill!"

The last words were shouted as they rushed out the door.

Ethan and Tobias sighed.

"They're the best thing that has ever happened to you"

"Indeed", Ethan said in earnest. "I'll be very inclined to agree."

(Four months after Inara's board exams)

The gorgeous venue sparkled with chandeliers and boujee people in expensive suits. Small round tables, aesthetic chairs, congratulations in order everywhere. No, it wasn't the medical industry's 'it' couple getting married, it was the 'it' doctor, and the chief of medicine's second book getting launched instead.

Ethan had walked into the Edenbrook atrium that morning like it was a war zone. His expression still spelt terror, as he uneasily shifted his glance between some of his guests, shooting small, forced smiles their way.

"Why do we always have to do this?", he had asked Naveen. "Why couldn't we just release the damn book in stores? Why host a useless social gathering with forty thousand rich snobs who are only any good at showing off and draining your energy?"

Naveen had shook his head and hit him with an assertive "it's necessary."

So currently, Ethan stood awkward to his bones, in the middle of this necessary evil. Until, a certain presence near the door cued him to look up.

It was them.

Pantsuit in a sinful vermillion, the colour glowing bright against their skin. Red bottom wedges, that only aided their boss status. Brunette locks framing their face, so impeccably contrasting the emerald eyes looking affectionately back at him. Those, which never failed to take his breath away.

Inara Hepburn.

His giver, his lover, his Rookie.

And Ethan couldn't be more mesmerized, or reassured.

"Need some help picking your jaw off the floor, Ramsey?" Inara quipped, as they strode towards Ethan, torturously slow.

"I– well…", he stammered, before clearing his throat. "Is that look the reason why you chose to arrive 'fashionably late', and drive separately to my book launch from our own apartment?"

"Yeah, definitely the look, but I daresay some other things as well", they said, placing a playful hand on Ethan's chest. "You'll soon find out."

He smiled warmly at them. "Is that a challenge?"

"Have you ever backed down from one?"

A reckless mistake of letting his eyes slip to their lips, and Ethan couldn't wait any longer. He wrapped his arms around their waist, kissing them hard and deep. Drinking in their mouth, their warmth, their sensations. Aching to draw as much energy as he could to power through this event, from his greatest source of confidence, his only constant supporter.

"I love you so much, Rookie", he panted, after the kiss broke off.

"Some brand new information there", teased Inara, bumping their nose into his. "You know I love you too, E. Now tell me what's bothering you."

Ethan pulled back swiftly at that, and stared at them in astonishment.

"What?"

"What 'what'? It was all over your face when I entered, and you still don't look quite alright. What's wrong, love? I don't recall you being afraid of public speaking!"

"I'd address an audience in my dreams! I just don't understand what's up with these people who come up individually to congratulate me, and purposefully try to expand those two lines into a whole one-on-one conversation. Scandalous!"

Inara nodded vigorously in agreement.

"Such a mood, b*tch, such a mood."

Peels of laughter were shared again, at their effortless mutual understanding, and at the usage of Inara's all time favourite nickname.

"All the best", they wished, shaking him by the lapels of his coat. "Get out there, and kill it!"

About an hour later, applause sounded from every corner of the atrium. Ethan beamed, as he finished reading the last line of a snippet about his latest research from his book.

Clapping proudly from the crowds was Inara, a lover on a mission.

"Thank you everyone, for joining me here today", Ethan said, amongst cheers and buzzing words of encouragement from fellow doctors and other esteemed medical personalities. "I hope I will be able to add value to patient-care through my efforts behind this book. There are some people I would like to specifically thank for being of immense help on my journey till here, so let's begin. Dad, thank you so much for coming to support me. Means a lot. Maybe because of my personal outlook, I could never comprehend your brand of unconditional love, which you so freely offer without actively needing me to work for it. I know now how valuable and rare that is, and how it has helped me grow into the man I am today. For that I will always be grateful. Naveen, thank you so much. You know if I start listing 'what for', I won't finish."

A lighthearted chuckle spread among the crowd.

"You always keep saying my success is my own, but I firmly believe there was no way I would have been the doctor I am without your help and guidance. Thank you for being the excellent mentor and leader by example that you are, you still motivate me to become better everyday. And, last but not the least… Inara."

All eyes in the audience shifted towards one young attending, who was clutching her glass out of giddiness.

"I really want to say thank you, but those two words will never be able to express the amount of gratitude I hold towards you. Before you, my life was only ever about blacks and whites. Giving my everything into medicine, working late nights and coming back to an empty apartment with scotch in my hand, I thought I was doing it all right. But when I met you, got to know you, I… you left me in utter awe of who you are, both as a professional and as a person. I couldn't stop myself from falling in love, and in respect, with your brain, your mind, and your soul. I am so glad you were patient with me while I was busy trying to deny it. You continued to show that patience even until recently, when I was all cranky with writer's block. Now I know the great Dr. Inara Hepburn is also a published novel writer, so of course that bit might have come out of empathy, but nonetheless, I'm thankful for it. Today, I'm about to release a book I put my all into, the information in which might hopefully change the face of what I'm most passionate about – public healthcare, for the better. And I'd rather not share this moment with anyone else. So Inara, would you please honour me by coming up on stage to receive the first ever copy of 'Prognosis and Evaluation'?"

Inara couldn't speak, stunned into silence for a bit. They had no idea Ethan would be the one for emotional public speeches, and here they were, utterly moved, in for another surprise. So would he be, soon, they reasoned in their head, and gathered themselves. Keeping their drink aside on a table, they strode towards the stage, eyes shining with pride, love, and determination.

Determination to get this right.

Ethan took their hand as soon as they stepped on the first stair, and led them upstage.

A copy of the book, new and shining, was lying, all theirs to hold.

'Prognosis and Evaluation: A comprehensive study.'

Their heart swelled at the words written on the first page of the book.

Typical Ethan's handwriting, somehow neat and gibberish at the same time.

'My love, my north star, I promise to never let you down' - Dr Ramsey Ethan <3.

Tears. Instantly, a whole lot of them rolled down their cheeks. They clutched the book hard and hugged it to their chest, holding on tight. Ethan held them in turn, locking their shaking frame in his embrace, as the crowd broke into a unanimous applause.

"E, I don't know what to say", Inara began, on being handed over the mic. "Si would have cried so much if she were present here, Naveen's already crying."

Their grandmentor smiled back at them through his tears.

"The thing is, I love success. I love standing in the spotlight, having my own life, and earning my own achievements. Despite that, there is always a deeper warmth in standing next to someone you love, when they accomplish great things, and shouting "my person!" Today, you've given me that opportunity, and I'm so grateful to you for it. I'm proud of you for believing in yourself, and speaking your voice not as a "mechanism of coping with the means of this corrupt world", but as a means to bring genuine change because you believe you can. I've always seen you try so hard to never let your loved ones down, and that effort is what I'm so here for. People like you are rare, and I'm glad I got one to myself, to constantly cheerlead for, now and as long as you'll have me. I'll never leave your side, Ethan. I'd love us to forever be each other's hype person. Not just in practice, but also… officially."

Three distinct gasps were heard in the room.

Alan, Naveen and Tobias let their pinkies lock into each other.

Ethan's eyes widened, as he took in the meaning behind their words, starting to sense what might be coming.

Doubt. Disbelief. Shock. Anticipation.

In the next moment, they were down on one knee.

"Ethan Jonah freaking Ramsey, will you marry me?"

Dead silence in the entire room, everyone taking in what just happened.

Ethan's hands flew to his mouth.

Minutes passed.

One… two… and five...

No one said a word.

Eventually, the entire audience burst into cheers and jubilation. Even in such a formal event as that, quite a few wayward whistles were heard.

And then there was the man of the hour, standing centre stage, shell shocked. Still trying to process everything.

"Inara... Rookie, I–"

He couldn't. Form words or coherent sentences. His entire focus was on the person and the tiny blue box in front of him.

"There's a ring in there for real?"

'Shit', he cursed internally. What a ridiculous question.

Of course this was real. Their love was real, they were real. He was to get married. What? Wow. Really?

Of course there would be a ring for real.

"Depends", Inara said with a wink. "On whether or not you say yes."

"Come on Ethan!"

Encouragements burst from his acquaintances in the crowd, imploring him to say yes. His three musketeers, however, were heard the loudest.

'Yes', Ethan thought to himself. 'Yes.'

He had to say it.

"Yes", he tried whispering under his breath.

A first time, then a second.

"Yes. YES OF COURSE I’LL MARRY YOU!"

He exclaimed those words in ecstacy before dropping down on his knees as well, and pulled his lover in against him. He engulfed her in his arms, holding her so tight, it could knock the breath out of his chest.

"Yes Inara, it would mean the world to me if I could marry you", he whispered again into her ear.

"Good thing I asked then, E", Inara whispered back, before squeezing him one last time and pulling away.

"Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring!", the crowd chanted.

The widest smile ever was shot their way, as Inara once again took hold of the navy box. She waited for both of them to steady themselves, and Ethan found himself holding his breath.

At last, the cover of the ring case slowly lifted, to reveal…

A bright yellow ring chip sitting right into the slit of the fabric in the case.

Confused noises of varying degrees filled the room. Only Naveen, Tobias and Alan watched the whole scene unfold with a twinkle in their eye.

Meanwhile, Ethan's expression progressed from utter cluelessness to gradual realization.

Oh! That ring.

"Wait, how did– how come that snack didn't rot in all these days?"

"Of course it did, love. Our original measuring tape probably decomposed long ago in some trash bin outside a gold shop, after having done its job. This is merely a replica, but you can call it a token."

"Nars… what do you mean?"

"I mean…", Inara said, inserting her hand into her suit pocket, to pull out a sparkling golden band, complete with five little diamonds on top. "May I have your hand?"

"Readily, Rookie… you already have my heart. Always, for as long as you'll have me."

Ethan placed his shivering palm on Inara's steady hand, and she took the opportunity to slip the golden band through his ring finger.

A perfect fit.

With tears in his eyes, Ethan agreed.

"I'm getting married to you."

"I'm getting married to you!"

Inara squealed at the prospect, and Ethan decided on sealing their joyous sentiment by crashing his lips onto hers in a searing kiss.

The audience went wild, but they were all forgotten in the minds of the lovebirds.

"I can't believe I get to call you fiancé", Ethan wondered in amazement.

"Me neither", said Inara, joining their foreheads together.

"Say what, we should ask Sienna to bake our wedding cake. Three tier, with a big old fondant ring chip on top."

"What? Ethan Ramsey wants a huge a** fondant snack on the top of his wedding cake! Are you sure he's okay?"

"Yes, he is, and he would do anything for his fiancé!"

With moist eyes and full hearts, they buried themselves again in each other's holds.

This time, with a mutual promise of a forever.

F I N.

Oukay so this happened. I kinda posted it. Shh, I need to breathe.

Thank you so much for reading, if you've made it this far. I hope I haven't damaged too many of your braincells.

Thank you @gaeipsstuff for naming Ethan's book. I would have never, seriously! Thanks for proofreading and giving a detailed analysis, it came extremely handy during the my edit sessions. Thank you @adiehardfan, @jeetushmannfeelz, you know if it wasn't for the both of you, this wouldn't be up on my Tumblr.

This is my first proper OH fic, with an actual story and shenanigans, so I've been super apprehensive about this. Hence, it would mean a real lot to me if you could tell me how you found it. Stay safe, do what you love, stan pixelated characters, and take hugs. Peace✌.

Tagging: @adiehardfan @irisofpurple @barbean

Others kindly let me know if you wanna be tagged!

#choices open heart #dr ethan ramsey #open heart 3 #open heart fanfiction #mc x ethan #fluff fic #idk what else please spare me

15 notes · View notes

obaby-me · 4 years

Note

hi! can i ask a scenario for the boys with a s/o who already has a child (like 4-5 years old? a young kid.) thanks!

For this particular request, it will be assumed that the child is down in the Devildom with their parent given their young age and the parent’s refusal to be separated.

Lucifer

Although initially irritated at the arrangement of having an additional human to oversee, particularly a child, Lucifer slowly warms up to both you and your young one. What is one more to the six he already has. At least when the little human causes trouble, there is a very reasonable excuse—they’re /five/. The same cannot be said for his thousands years old brothers.

Your devotion to your child impresses him. You fought, you argued with Lord Diavolo himself. You absolutely refused to leave your child behind, even for a year. You showed a strength in your resolve that moved him, and Diavolo, who accepted the compromise for your attendance.

Lucifer is very protective of the two of you. He assigns Mammon to you for 24/7 protection, but Lucifer keeps a watchful eye on you as well, constantly checking in by text and call to “check your schedule” and to make sure Mammon hasn’t left your side.

He makes as much time in your schedule as possible for you to spend with your little one, and watches your stress levels carefully—almost creepily scientific.

He is not particularly affectionate, but he is doting in his own way, generally by way of gifts.

Mammon

When first assigned to you, the fact that you had a child in tow overwhelmed him. It’s not just one human he has to keep an eye on but two. One of which doesn’t have either the brains or the motor skills to keep themselves out of trouble or to run out of it. He has to /actually/ play his role as a guardian—he can’t pull a stunt of simply leaving you for any schemes he may have.

He’s a demon, but he’s not heartless.

Overtime he becomes more attached to you and your child. He plays little role in actually teaching the kid anything—it’s really for the best that you play the role model. Instead he spoils you and your young one with gifts. Clothes and toys, and favorite snacks. He’s a horrible enabler and will spoil your child rotten if you don’t keep a careful eye on him.

Mammon likes to take the two of you all around the Devildom. He keeps a super close eye on you both, incredibly over protective if even one demon eyes you. But he can’t not bring you both out and about. Not when it makes the two of you so happy.

He’s made your kid cry on a few occasions by a slip of his tsundere tongue and it made your child cry—which set Mammon off into crying too.

The fact that you rely on him to keep you two safe becomes something he takes pride in. He gets rather jealous if you every ask anything from any of his brothers.

Admittedly, Mammon gets jealous the attentions you give to your child as well. He wants cuddles and pats from you too. Sometimes it’s almost like you have two kids instead of one.

Leviathan

Levi considers babysitting a distraction from the important things in his life: video games, anime, and Ruri-chan. And that’s just on the basic level of time investment. Then there’s the difficulty of actually taking care of the fragile little thing. However, when your child shows interest in watching his shows with him, or watching him game, and just generally babbling and asking Levi questions about the things he loves and desperately wants to rant about, the avatar of envy very quickly changes his tune.

Your love and support to your child reminds him a lot of his own for Ruri-chan. Soon he begins to become a fan of your kid in the same way. Next thing you know, he’s got banners, little glow sticks, and cheers when your kid does silly dances, or sings little songs. He’s over the top, but you love that about him—thankfully.

After some time, he start making little comparisons to family units in anime’s that he sees, as though testing the waters to see if you feel the same about him, feeling as close as he does to you and your child.

His temper still dangerously flares however when your child gets handsy, or if they start mouthing on anything in his room—he will toss them right out of his room.

If he has some extra funds that week not spent on merchandise, he’ll buy them toys in the hopes they can keep their various troublesome body parts entertained and off his stuff. (He’s also secretly trying to instill an innate love for TSL through the types of toys he purchases.)

Satan

Satan doesn’t mind either way that there is a little human running around the house. He doesn’t go out of his way to get along with them, but if the child approaches him, he has a special soft spot in his heart waiting for them.

He trustsnthat you can take care of and keep your child under control, and leaves you to take care of everything unless you specifically ask for assistance. It’s simply his way of showing respect that you are the guardian and therefore it is entirely up to you what values and lessons to teach.

He plays a good sitter, better than any of his brothers—including Lucifer. Be sure to tell him so and he’ll make it a point to go out of his way do be even better still. He knows how to properly feed, clean, and knows not to give the child anything dangerous (which means he never lets the child into his room, and instead hangs out with him all the other rooms of the house.)

He can be intimidating when frustrated but he never breaks into demon form. He recognizes that the kid is only 5. Luckily, the aura he gives as he slowly loses his patience is so obvious that a child can sense something horrible will be on its way if they don’t start behaving. It scares them, and it always takes quite a few days of Satan apologizing and spoiling your child before they become comfortable with him again.

He likes to read stories to them, and begins to purchase small volumes of short tales to add to his collection. Sometimes he takes the kid with him to pick out the books themselves. Whatever interests your child may have, Satan will indulge them in, buying books perhaps a little to advanced, trying to explain and explore the subject more thoroughly with them.

Asmodeus

What’s this? A walking, talking doll to play dress up with? Asmo adores your little human and showers them with attention and gifts. Almost all gifts are outfits, and little make up kits, whether your child likes it or not. He can be excessive and controlling, but he means well. You have to step in to keep him in line. He’s a great care taker otherwise. You can be certain that your child will be well fed, well bathed, and perfectly uninjured after Asmo sits them—albeit their nails might be a little bedazzled.

Asmo’s initial obsession with your kid will slowly wear away to something more tolerable the more time he spends with you. Watching you and the way you love unconditionally unravels him in a way that makes him feel incredibly lonely. He envies that sort of love, and he desperately wants to earn it from you too.

He goes out of his way to try and earn your attention and approval. Be it through way of taking care of your child, or through taking care of you. He wants to be loved unconditionally as well. By you. He is overjoyed when you let him know you do consider him family as well and love him as one.

He can be counted on to de-stress you with face masks and massages and beautiful bubble baths, as well as give you a day alone while he spends it playing with your kid. He shows off pictures of you and kid online, and builds you up with the comments. He tells your stories, of the cute things you do for your child. Yes, his social media is blowing up and it’s not about him—but for once he’s perfectly happy—he’s proud of you and your little family unit.

Beelzebub

To everyone’s surprise, Beel is a fantastic caretaker. His brothers were a little worried he would eat the kid—and given how often they seemed to say it, it worried you a little too.

But Beel is a gentle giant. He’s careful when he picks them up and considerate of what he says to them. You can rest assured that there is no one your child will feel more safe with than Beel. He admits that everything he does, it’s because he is trying to mimic you. He admires you. Your nurturing aura, your patience—you’re soft outside and in, and he wants to protect that.

Watching your child is something he enjoys—he’ll even be the one to ask you if he can be the one to watch them next. With him, your child gets plenty of exercise. Beel likes to lift them up and spin them, chase them around the house and have them chase him. He’s an active guy and having someone to play with delights him.

Beware that he might overfeed your kid. He has no concept of “enough” when it comes to food. When he eats, there’s always little for your little one as well. Anything they refuse to eat, Beel is happy to devour for them— which means balanced meals that include veggies, while they may be served, may not be eaten at all.

Belphegor

Belphie likes you before he likes the kid. It’s not that Belphie doesn’t like kids. Kids are just a lot. A lot of time and energy.

It’s exhausting taking care of a child, and Belphie has a difficult time just doing things for himself without needing a nap halfway through the day.

But you manage to do it all on your own. You’re tired, but you persevere, even when the kid shoves an entire fist full of cookie into milk and watches it sink before crying that it’s missing. You’re patient, and you’re gentle, and you’re kind, no matter how much of a pain in the ass your kid can be.

Not matter how much of a pain in the ass he can be.

The little human slowly grows on him. He thinks they’re amusing and he likes their enthusiasm for the world around them. He worries for them, however. The Devildom isn’t completely safe for humans yet, so he likes to keep you both inside whenever possible. If he could get away with locking you two down in his room, he would. He’s very protective of you both and gets a little dangerous should anyone even hint a threat to either of you.

Belphie doesn’t know how to keep a kid entertained. Instead, he lets them take the lead to do whatever they want (within the walls of the house) and he lazily follows along. He’s a yes man to whatever mischief your kid decides to get into. He doesn’t stop any behavior unless it could cause harm to the kid.

In fact, he’ll encourage some troublesome behaviors if it means causing trouble for Lucifer. Draw on the walls? Go for it, kid. Just don’t eat the markers.

Belphie’s a terrible babysitter by everyone else’s standards, but your child adores him, and always asks for Belphie specifically to watch them.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #headcanon #the boys watching over kids amuses me greatly #but also it was difficult for me to write because i know jack shit about raising kids #so really they all sound like fun uncles because that’s all i know how to be

159 notes · View notes

akimmito · 4 years

Text

I’ll still be with you

First | Prev | AO3 | Next

Master List

Chapter 4: My Way

If it were any other day of any other month in any other year before that, he would have refused, but it's not any other day, it's the day that Damian Wayne has accepted that he's fed up with being, precisely, Damian Wayne.

His world was shaken a lot since he was ten years old and when the earthquakes under his feet finally stopped, an earthquake destroyed everything he suffered to build. The relationship with Grayson was taken from him, all his efforts were ignored and trampled on as if they meant nothing. His title was a lie, his privileged position a mirage and being of the same blood, a chain that hurt them both.

Maybe we should just go our separate ways.

"Damian?"

"Daemon Rothschild."

"Uh." Drake just turns to the computer and starts working.

Damian, no, Daemon sits on the floor and takes one of the thrown papers, looking at it as if it were an object of real interest. It is a letter written in French, a delicate curved handwriting that says a lot about the lady who wrote it.

CN has not been on patrols for the past two weeks, his father exhibiting erratic behavior near the fifth anniversary of his wife's disappearance, increasingly desperate to get the two prodigies. CN mentioned that N made a successful recovery after four years of illness, a little longer and would have had the same end as E.

P has started an investigation against HM in his civilian identity for child exploitation, psychological abuse and illegal use of military weapons. Your tests and what was rescued from MK's memory were weighty, even if we don't arrest them for their crimes as HM, GA will spend a lot of time in prison and with TK and PG we have talked about the curses, I was even in contact with the man who you mentioned to me, JC turned out to know a lot about prodigies and provided important information to achieve the goal I mentioned you.

I know you will continue to investigate until you remove all the dirt that HM hides, I hope some of that can be used in court. It's been five long years and you don't know how grateful I'm that we met that night.

Come visit me soon, MDC.

The date is of ten months ago. Drake kept this woman, his activities with her, and the whole criminal affair a secret. Only someone with knowledge of the matter could understand whose initials are, but from the things of a certain Gabriel Agreste scattered all over the floor, you can assume that HM and GA are the same person. A type of villain? That is probable. And the chances that this woman is the same in the photographs are very great.

"Entertaining?" Drake turns to him, looking at him with an amused expression. Daemon assumes that he had everything ready just to add whatever name he chose.

Drake never does anything without having everything done beforehand. In those moments it's even reassuring, it means that he took the time to think about whether carrying it was a good idea, that he's not just a dead weight that he decided to drag without knowing what to do with him, that he took the trouble to make it as significant as his own depart.

"Who is MDC?"

"The person we're meeting with. Now, do you want to go back to the mansion or would you rather we go to dinner?"

"You're acting suspicious, Drake."

"I'm not going to risk that your built-in tracker has a damn microphone, mine had one and it was annoying as hell to get rid of it without raising suspicions." He gets up from his chair when the AI is heard, Kolia, deliver a report.

Batman requests a meeting. The Joker has escaped from Arkham an hour ago.

Perfect.

I haven't even gotten a damn message.

Daemon takes out his phone, which only has a message from Jon advising that his things were taken by Alfred. Unsurprisingly, all of Arkham could have escaped, but his father would not revoke his punishment even on his deathbed.

"You will go?"

Drake walks over to a drawer and pulls out a gold ring? Some kind of double ring attached by a wire? Or something like that. He can't see it well.

"My old Red Robin suit will looks good on you, I'm sure. Do you want to disobey his orders? "He gives him a knowing smile and there's a crazy desire in his gaze to spread the chaos he'd only seen in Todd in his best days.

Will life with Drake be like this?

It seems he have made the right decision, there is only one question left to ask.

"What suit will you wear?"

"The one I used in Paris."

Drake leaves the matchbox in an unknown direction, Daemon immediately follows him so as not to lose him. He doesn't know the apartment, if he wants to wear that suit, if he wants to fight on his own terms, he's not in his plans to get lost.

The hidden part that is the main base of Red Robin is as modern as the bell tower, although he has a small suspicion that accessing this place is much more difficult than the cave. He has no proof, but no doubts either.

"From today you will no longer be Robin, take the suit as a simple transition between what you were and what you will be. When I took the old Red Robin costume, I did it because Jason had already worn it and that meant he was no longer Robin, but more importantly, I was no longer bound by the rules that Batman had set me... I was willing to go so far as necessary in my search for Bruce. "

"Makes sense."

Daemon always thought that wearing that suit and calling himself Red Robin only spoke of a lack of originality, of preparation, but it seems that he also spoke a lot about what Drake intended to do from that moment on. It took a year for him to put on a suit again and hit the streets, it took him a month to settle in and then it was only a matter of time before he left for three years.

"Change out. We will go around Gotham and wait for the night. We can find out what B is planning from Jason."

Drake sits down and activates the central computer, Kolia starts asking for identity checks, very interesting questions, but only one catches his attention.

Girl or boy?

"Girl."

Daemon looks at him for a moment before heading to the locker room, intrigued.

Look at the Red Robin suit in his hands, the suit that marked the change of direction Drake took so long ago. And now it will also mark his.

If there is a better version of me.

I will reach it.

Red Robin slides into the back of the motorcycle with Solarhahn, whose colors are predominantly red and gold with a little orange. The costume is magical, it's easy to guess just by looking at his eyes: the yellow sclera and orange eyes with red that stare back at him, surrounded by a red mask that fades into yellow near the edges. His cape simulates wings that start from the arms, those, he identified, can be detached to become (1) arrows and (2) small throwing blades, depending on his intentions. The costume is predominantly dark red with gold parts on the thighs, chest, and arms, the gloves a shade of red that doesn't decide whether to remain red or turn orange. But the most interesting thing is his black hair that melts into red and ends in gold towards the ends, as if it were on fire.

He couldn't help but give him a second glance when he saw it, the gold ring on his right ring finger, almost hidden by the shade of the gloves.

Drake showed him a little summary of the whole situation, the heroes and his role, but it was all too superficial, but enough to capture the significance of the event.

A very dangerous magical matter, too delicate and of which only Wonder Woman was aware outside of Paris, until Drake crashed with the whole thing in his search for Bruce. That sounds like something that would happen to him, he have that kind of luck.

"Don't ask questions. We will answer everything, but later."

Daemon nods and Drake instructs Kolia to report anything to the communications. That's when he gives him a very particular one and the same yellow color that he wears in his suit. He takes it and puts it on before putting on his hood, at which point the older man starts the motorcycle and the doors begin to open.

As they race through the streets of Gotham at dusk, Daemon looks up at the orange sky.

I extend my corrupted hand... towards a heaven that will no longer receive me.

But I know this is the way to save myself.

To find my way.

-------

I liked the name Daemon, it's of Greek origin. So, I was looking for names and I found it, I knew it was that. The other name was Demian, after Demian Sinclair from Hernan Hesse's book, but I decided on the other. Also, Daemon can also mean demon if other meanings are looked up and I see it almost as an inside joke that only he and Tim will know.

It was hard for me to write this chapter, I didn't want to make it sad, but I didn't want it to feel out of place either, I hope I made it.

From here it's only a matter of time before Marinette appears on the scene.

What do you think of how the story unfolds so far?

Tag list: @incredulous-reader @dnsakina

#maribat #ml x dc

49 notes · View notes

harrywritingsbyme · 4 years

Note

Im currently at Japan. I was hoping if you could make a blurb where y/n and harry meet in some way. Huhuhu labss u happy new year!!

A little place called Japan

A/N: I’m sorry this is so late. I hope you had a great time in Japan!!☺️

I’d like to dedicate this to Japan!Harry

Japan was one of those places where you could visit over and over again and never get bored of it. You loved the culture and the energy of Japan. You thought Japan couldn’t get any better. That at least was until you met Harry.

Tokyo Tower was pretty much an essential landmark to visit while you were there. Of course you visited the area on your first trip to Japan. So by now, you mainly came to sit, read and enjoy the scenery. The park near the tower was the perfect place for you.

It was your last full day in Japan before you headed back to your real life in London. So you decided to spend your last day in the park. You found the perfect bench in the perfect spot and you settle into your book.

You’re contently reading for a good while, before you feel a dip in the farther end of the bench. You don’t pay it any mind until you saw the face of a Shiba Inu making its way towards you. You close your book and you turn your attention to the friendly pet. You reach your hand out towards the dog and she instantly draws closer to you.

You become so engrossed in the dog that you don’t even acknowledge it’s owner. You continue playing with the dog until a deep voice snaps you out of your dog induced trance.

“It seems like I’ve been replaced. Or something” the man says in an amused tone.

Your head snaps in his direction. You recognized his voice and when you saw where the voice came from, it confirmed your thoughts. You were sitting on a bench next to Harry Styles. Inside you were freaking out in excitement, but you managed to keep your outwardly appearance calm.

“I’m sorry, she’s just so cute. What’s her name?” Your eyes pan back down to the happy dog, scratching behind her ears.

“Her names Bell. And my name is Harry.” He sticks his free hand out towards you. A wide smile panning across his face.

“Y/N” you reply through your smile, returning the gesture and reaching out to shake his hand. By that point, you didn’t know what you were smiling at. You knew it was between Bell and Harry, and right now, you were almost certain that it was Harry.

Not long after, you had abandoned your book and your whole attention was now on Harry, with you absentmindedly petting the content animal at your feet. You enjoyed listening to Harry talk about his trip. You found his voice to be very therapeutic and soothing believe it or not.

“So how long are you here for?” He rests against the back of the bench, with his full attention on you.

“Today’s my last day, I’ve been here for about a week how. How about you?” You say to him, noticing the gap between the two of you significantly shrink.

“I’m here for a little while longer, then I’m heading back home.” He says to you, trying to figure out a way to spend more time with you before he possibly never saw you again.

Now Harry didn’t believe in cliches. But he just felt like there was something about you that he couldn’t get enough of. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew that he couldn’t get enough of you. And once he finally noticed the book which was one of his all time favorites, he knew you were special.

The conversation lasted for about a good half hour before the cold finally got to the both of you.

“As much as I’m enjoying talking to you, my arse is going to be attached to this bench soon. How about we move this to this cool cafe I think you’ll like.” He chuckles, hoping you’d say yes.

“That’d be great. But before we go, I have to get a picture of the two of you in front of the tower. I mean, how could you not? It’s a photo op you just can’t pass up” You say suggestively getting up and beckoning him to come along. He gets up and he makes his way over to you. You position him in front of the landmark and you step back to take the photo.

“Okay Mr.Model, show me what’cha got. “ you say crouching in front of him. Making to get all the angles. He chuckles at your efforts, and you make sure to take extra pictures of him smiling.

“What, I have to get all the angles. Now serious face. Gotta get the money shot.” You say carefully positioning the camera to get the photo. “Got it” you say getting up from your position and moving over to Harry to show him the pictures.

“Y’have to send these to me.” he says swiping through the photos you took. You both walk side by side in the direction of the cafe he told untouchable about. You both make a quick stop at his friends place, dropping Bell off, and Harry quickly rushing back to you.

Next thing you knew, you were in the corner of the cafe, chatting it up with Harry. Normally someone you just met wouldn’t have such an affect on you, but with Harry, it felt like you had been friends for years. Something about it was easy, and you wished it wouldn’t end. You were already bummed out at the fact that you had to leave, but now you had to leave Harry? That just made you even more sad to leave.

“As much fun as this has been, I have to get going. Have t’pack up for my flight tomorrow” you frown picking at your muffin wrapper.

“Well Y’can’t leave until you send me those pictures” he says, his eyes narrowing in on you playfully.

“Fine” you groan pulling out your phone. He pulls his phone out and he hands it over to you, asking you without actually asking you for your phone number.

“Is this your way of getting my number styles?” You quirk your brow, taking his phone out of his hands.”

“Maybe” he says shyly, leaning onto his palm. You smile and you put your name and number into his phone. Checking everything over, making sure you put everything in correctly. You hand the phone back over to him and you give your phone to him so he could do the same. He hands your phone back to you and you start compiling your things.

The both of you get up from the table and you make your way to the entrance of the cafe. The two of you step out into the cold air of Japan and you quickly shove your hands into your pockets.

“I had a great time today” you say swaying side to side in front of him.

“Me too” he says smiling softly at you, soaking up as muck of you as possible. Out of your entire time together, this was the first time he got a perfect view of you. He realized you were beautiful early on, but now he couldn’t believe how beautiful you were.

He couldn’t resist the urge to take a picture of you. He quickly pulls out his phone and he opens his camera. “Smile” you look at him, questioning his actions. “Need t’put a face to the name.” He responds to you. You shrug your shoulders, agreeing with his logic. You smile at the camera and he snaps the picture or four. He looks over the pictures and he smiles at them before shoving the phone back into his pocket. “I wanna see” you pout pointing to his pocket. “Why, all of em’ are perfect” he says matter of factly, sending a wink your way.

“Well I better let you go. It’s gettin’ a bit cold out here. Don’t wan’ y’turnin into a popsicle.” He sighs, chuckling at his own joke.

“Yeah, I better get out of here.” You sigh, frowning at him. You couldn’t remember who initiated the hug but you knew you didn’t want it to end. It was like being wrapped in a warm blanket. His warmth radiated off of you, keeping you warm from the sir around you. You wished you could stay like this forever. Eventually you both separated from each other and you said your final goodbyes before making your way down the street in opposite directions.

You didn’t tell Harry this, but the cafe he took you to, was your absolute favorite so you frequented it quite often during your trips. As you made your way back to your hotel, you pulled out your phone and you sent him the pictures you took. You sent him all of the pictures except one. You sent him this picture with a little message attached to it.

‘Even though bell wasn’t looking at the camera, this one is my favorite. You really do live up to your name Mr.Model🙂’

You both were saddened at the fact that you wouldn’t see each other again. But all of that quickly changed when you were standing behind a guy who had on rings and a hat similar to Harry’s. You just had to see who was standing in front of you at your local grocery store checkout line. You tapped the man in front of you on the shoulder and the person you hoped it was spun around to face you.

“Fancy seeing you here. If I knew any better, I’d say you were following me.” He smirks, hiding the feelings of excitement and joy that were running through his body at seeing you.

From that point on, your relationship with Harry blossomed into something that before you met him, you didn’t think was even possible, something you loved more than everything. Something you didn’t know you needed.

Let’s just say that from then on, Japan would always be special to you and Harry.

Masterlist

558 notes · View notes

stereogeekspodcast · 3 years

Text

[Transcript] Season 2, Episode 2. Stereo Geeks Special: The CW’s Walker

We can't believe we're saying it, but we've enjoyed the first six episodes of The CW's Walker. What is this reboot of the 90s action show doing that's so unexpected and downright subversive? In this spoiler-free review of the first half of the opening season, the Stereo Geeks duo dive into why we're loving the show and why you should give it a try.

Walker promo image courtesy The CW.

Listen to the episode on Anchor.

Ron: Welcome to a new Stereo Geeks Special! In this episode we’ll be reviewing the first 6 episodes of The CW’s Walker.

I’m Ron.

Mon: And I’m Mon. Please note that this is a spoiler-filled review so if you haven’t caught up with the first 6 episodes, please watch them and return to our podcast!

[Continuum by Audionautix plays]

Ron: This show is adapted from the 1993 series, Walker, Texas Ranger. It was conceived by Jared Padalecki, and Anna Fricke is the showrunner. There are numerous women writing and directing the episodes. Despite the source material, this show is surprisingly subversive with regards to masculinity, gender roles, and race.

Mon: The original Walker, Texas Ranger TV show aired in the 90s, with Chuck Norris in the lead. The show was also inspired by a Chuck Norris film from the 1980s. So, as you can imagine, it was a punch-fest. Now we can't really attest to that, because we never saw it. We only ever caught the trailers on TV.

I have to say when you and I launched this podcast, I don't think we would have imagined that we would have even watched a single episode of the Walker reboot, forget actually dedicating an entire special to it. But here we are!

Ron: Well, I think part of the reason why we're actually talking about the show is because of Jared Padalecki. As Sam Winchester on Supernatural for 15 years, Padalecki has wormed his way into a lot of hearts.

But Walker is nothing like Supernatural and Cordell Walker, Jared Padalecki’s character on the show—yeah, he is no Sam Winchester.

Mon: The first episode really had me worried. It started off with a female character being fridged, and the entire storyline was confusing. Do you remember how many times I turned to you and said ‘I'm so confused. I'm so confused.’?

You were introduced to every character, and seemingly every character dynamic as well. All of that in the first 45 minutes. It was too much, and it was too messy. But the end of the episode really made us want to come back. And I think the success of this show really lies in the fact that every episode makes us want to come back and meet these characters, find out what they're doing and how are they surviving.

So, who are the characters?

Ron: As we’ve already mentioned, we have Jared Padalecki as Cordell Walker, the titular Texas Ranger. Alongside Cordell is his partner in crime—or in law enforcement— Lindsey Morgan’s Micki Ramirez. She is the first female Texas Ranger, and the first Latina Texas Ranger in the show.

Cordell’s wife, who we meet briefly in the first episode, and she returns in flashbacks in subsequent episodes, is Emily, played by Jared Padalecki’s real life wife Genevieve Padalecki. And fun fact, Jared and Genevieve met during Supernatural.

Keeping it in the Supernatural family, we have, Mitch Pileggi, playing Bonham, Cordell’s father. As Supernatural fans will remember. Mitch Pileggi played Sam and Dean's grandfather, Samuel Campbell in Supernatural.

We also meet Cordell’s mother, his children, his brother—who's also the ADA. And we also meet Coby Bell’s, Larry James, who is Cordell and Micki's captain, and has been Cordell’s long-suffering friend. There are several other characters that we meet as well. And all this happens in the first episode, so as you can imagine, it's a bit clunky.

From episode 2 onwards, it seems like they have a bit more focus. You don't have to meet every single character; they come in from time to time when they're needed in the story. And I think, overall, that kind of helped our connection with the show.

Not having watched the original, we don't really have a bouncing off point, but we do know that there was a lot of action, not much on the drama, not much on the emotions—there wasn't much human connection. I think a lot of people were hoping that they would just get something like that with this show. But Walker isn’t like that.

From the first episode onwards, it works really hard to balance the police procedural side with the family drama and dynamics. And six episodes in, I think it’s done a pretty good job.

Mon: It's been really successful in bringing these two rather disparate angles together. And what it does very well is to structurally interweave these two parallel storylines. We go from the investigation to the family drama and then we go back again, and it's not cyclical, as much as it is interwoven. And that structurally makes the episodes very interesting to watch.

Ron: But more importantly, the way they’ve balanced these two sides of Cordell’s life is actually pivotal to how the show proceeds, because Cordell is a single father now. He doesn't do a very good job of just being a Ranger, or just being a dad, and he's at the point where he's trying to figure out how to do those together. And it's actually quite amusing when you're watching it because you're like, ‘shouldn't you be with your kids right now?’ And then other times you're like ‘don’t you have a job to do?’

Mon: I feel like it's really important for us to see both these sides, not only of Cordell, but also of Micki, because it's always great to see how the job impacts the characters’ family dynamics, and the other way around. Because if you're being pulled out of your investigation because your kid did something ridiculous, or you're abandoning some kind of family trip because there's another bad guy on the loose, there will be explosions somewhere or the other. And it just makes it more relatable.

Also, we might be seeing some new pattern in The CW shows because Superman & Lois is doing something similar, right? And so's Black Lightning. They're constantly trying to show us what it's like to be a working parent. But since this is The CW, the working parents can’t just go into some office job— their office job happens to be being a Texas Ranger, or being superhero.

Ron: And that's really the crux of the show. So maybe that's why people aren't enjoying it because it isn't just, you know, fisticuffs and guns. This show is very much about subverting toxic masculinity. Walker isn’t pure as driven snow, he's definitely layered and tortured, and he does things that are questionable. But the important thing is that Micki, and the people around him, call him out on it. I especially love that about episode 6—which is fresh in our minds because we just saw it—but it's not something you see often.

Mon: I feel like in the pilot episode they kind of leaned in towards what people would have expected of Walker, being a reboot of the original Walker, Texas Ranger show. But it doesn't pan out like that, because as you said, toxic masculinity is nowhere over here.

But there are consequences to the actions that Walker takes in the pilot episode, which we see in episode 6, and that is a nuance that you need in the 21st century. We have moved beyond just watching people beat other people up. We need to know that there are people behind those fists, and that's what we’re finding out.

Ron: We started watching the show because Jared Padalecki was in it. But according to my research, Padalecki has been thinking about the show for a while.

Mon: I've been hearing about his name attached to a Walker reboot for a long time. And the only reason I think it finally got the green light is because Supernatural was announced to be coming to an end in 2020. It's been on hold for a while.

Ron: It's funny because in the initial concept apparently Padalecki was going to produce the show, and the Jensen Ackles who's going to be stepping in as Walker. [laughs]

Mon: I can see that. But you know, Ackles would have brought a kind of swagger that this version of Cordell Walker doesn't need. And I think it would have changed the dynamic a lot.

Ron: I totally agree with that, especially because Padalecki seems to have got the idea from reading a story about a policeman who walked away from his duties because he did not want to continue separating children from their parents, just because they were immigrants.

Mon: Wow.

Ron: Yeah.

Mon: That explains the undertone throughout.

Ron: Exactly.

Mon: We can't tell you too much…

Ron: …but it's what have you read that.

I'm actually very curious to see where this first season goes, because that kind of story is playing a certain part in this. We've seen it pop up quite a bit just in these first six episodes. Will they take it forward? How far will they go with that? Not sure.

Mon: It will be a bold move to really tackle immigration, immigrant problems, head on in a show like Walker. This is why we need a blank canvas. You do a reboot, you do something different. You bring it to the 21st century.

Ron: According to Padalecki’s interview with Variety, this is what we said: This is not a show about a martial artist kicking minorities in the face; this is a show about a legit Texan saying, ‘Hey, I need to hear the whole story before I make a decision.’ So this version is less about what goes through somebody’s fists and feet, and more about what goes through somebody’s head and heart.”

We've definitely seen that in the first six episodes, and following the events of the sixth episode, I think we're gonna see a lot more of that.

Mon: Exactly. They're not being completely in your face about immigrants and minority communities, how they're treated and the issues that they face, but that's definitely there.

Ron: So one of my concerns when I started watching the pilot episode was that, oh, we have a white family at the center of the story. The problem with having a completely white family is that everybody around them is also white, but this show doesn't do that.

For one, Micki, who is Cordell’s partner has a massive role; she's basically the second lead. We also have Captain James played by Coby Bell, who is a Black man, and he is trying to make a difference in his department. The Walker showrunner, Anna Fricke spoke to Variety about the characters of colour on the show: “This was always supposed to be a show that was set up to have conversations on both sides of the fence and that Walker is a character that can see things both ways — we call him the edge of the coin. We realized that unwittingly we were set up to have those conversations in the characters of Captain James, who is a Black man, and in Walker’s new partner, who is a Latinx woman.”

So, she went on to talk about the pilot episode especially, because it did get delayed in production. So they went back to the writers room, and they worked on a few things. So this is what she had to say about how the pilot was changed slightly to reflect the circumstances of 2020. “Given that we had the extra time, we tweaked the pilot slightly in that Captain James, as a newer captain who was promoted while Walker was gone on a case, is really here on a mission to bring progress into the department and to keep an eye on corruption.”

Now considering everything that we have seen in 2020 and the police violence that has been, well, it's been there in the US for a long time, but in 2020, it's just—you couldn't avoid it. So, the Black Lives Matter movement definitely had an impact on the show. I'm kind of surprised that there aren't other shows that are following the same example. 2020 threw everything out of balance, but writers rooms had the opportunity to really absorb everything that was happening around them. I like the fact that the Walker team went back and said, ‘You know what we can do something, we can show what's happening in the real world through our show’. And that's why, I guess, we’ve seeing so much of the subversion.

I think what we’ve seen till now is only a taste of what's to come, really.

Mon: Oh, I agree with you. Listening to what Anna Fricke had to say about Captain James, I want to see more of that, because right now, he's almost comic relief—which I love, I really love that about him. But you can tell that there is a serious story and a serious character simmering beneath what is seen.

And this is a really clever move by the writers room so far. They are going with the easy route—family drama and investigation, but they're slipping in these moments which are making you think, which are bringing the reality of the world into the fantasy of the show.

In the first episode, Micki highlights some of the racism that she's had to overcome to be a Texas Ranger. In episode two, Stella, Cordell’s daughter, she acknowledges her white privilege and how it lets her off the hook, but not her Latinx friend.

And throughout, we see the same thing—a person of color is accused of killing his boss. Did he really do it? This seems too easy; it's constantly happening in every episode. It's a pattern. And I feel like it is crescendoing to something major. Is it going to be a realization of just how harmful some of the Texas Rangers’ actions are in the real world? Or is it going to be something different? We don't know.

Ron: Whatever we've learned so far about the show is making me question why they've kept the name of the show, just Walker.

Mon: Ooooo. Good point.

Ron: Especially now that we know what the inspiration for the show was for Jared Padalecki. Hmmm.

Mon: Wow, that’s really making me think.

I really like how refreshing this show is. It could have just been an easy reboot; they could have just cruise controlled throughout the entire story. It could have been about guy loses his wife, he's drunk, he meets new partner, they build a romance, kids go on living their life—none of that is happening so far. There are real questions being asked here, and it's thought provoking.

It's entertaining but it's also thought provoking. And I like that; that's a good mix. I mean let's be honest, when you cast Jared Padalecki as Cordell Walker, you know you're going to get a different kind of hero. He's not just going to be broody. He's not just going to be an Action Man; there's going to be layers. And that's what we get.

He definitely comes across as somebody who is burdened by his loss. He's also a little bit arrogant, but he's coming to terms with the fact that he has made mistakes in his life; he's constantly continuing to make mistakes, and he has to address those. But he's also funny; because like, he's a real person.

He'll suddenly act out not realizing the consequences, or he'll say something because he got excited. He is so normal. And I really liked that because there are these instances of comic relief and you're like, ‘that came out of nowhere, but I really needed that’.

Ron: It's funny because we’ve kept mentioning how we watched the show because of Jared Padalecki and how, because he was Sam Winchester, it was just a natural progression. But watching Walker, I'm not getting anything of Sam Winchester. I'm commending Jared Padalecki for his performance because Sam Winchester was last year, Walker is just a few months later.

The person that Sam Winchester was, was kind of young, needed direction, always turned to his older brother. Walker isn't like that. Cordell is a grownass man with teenage children. Somehow I just can't get over that

Mon: And the fact that Sam Winchester was such a rule follower, whereas Cordell’s middle name is basically rule breaker. I just really like that. I mean, we know that an actor is supposed to be able to disappear into new roles, but it's always funny when you go from 15 years as one person and then suddenly he's just living in the boots of Cordell Walker.

Despite that, I have to say that the performances throughout are very The CW. Either people are speaking rather staccato, or they're a little bit singy-songy and melodious. I feel like they need to up the ante a little bit, because this kind of show, with its drama and its family dynamics, it requires a little bit more nuance. But it hasn't really affected how I enjoy the show.

Ron: I think for the most part, Jared Padalecki and Lindsey Morgan are doing a very good job. I love the chemistry between the two characters, they feel like their partners, and it makes it really fun to watch. The parents, played by Mitch Pileggi and Molly Hagan, that's a dynamic that I'm very interested in watching more of. I don't know where they're going with it, but it's not what I expected.

Mon: I feel like they’re teetering on the brink of being a soap opera with Abeline and Bonham, but they're constantly restraining, so I want to know what they're planning to do with them. Because I feel like Bonham, especially, he's changed since the pilot. He's not the person who we were introduced to during the pilot episode, and that's a good thing because I didn't like that guy. With Abeline, she's a very different kind of character, and I almost feel like she's an antihero,

Ron: Or is it Bonham who the antihero?

Mon: Oooooo

Ron: There is some tension between these two characters. We aren't given much information. They’re eking it out for the audience, and it's so unexpected. Every time they come on screen I'm just like, ‘What is going on what is happening with these two?’ Sometimes they're happy to be together, a lot of times they're not. I feel like we're gonna get to know something which is gonna change how we watch the show.

When it comes to acting, I think the young ones, Violet Brinson, who play Stella, and Kale Culley, who plays August, they've taken some time to settle into their roles. It's one of the same problems that we kind of have with Superman & Lois, where Superman and Lois are great to watch, but the children? Not so much.

Mon: Yeah, I would say the weakest link in the show is definitely Stella and August, especially August. I feel like they want to do something with this character, but he's just been left behind. With Stella, she's almost the conduit for some of the drama, some of the flashbacks, and some of the race-talk that is happening. But with August, he's not even an angsty teen; he's just there.

Ron: But I think that relates to how this show is gender swapping a lot of moments. Stella is basically the troublemaker, and it's an understandable reaction because she is grieving and her father wasn't there when she was grieving. So she's acting out just to get attention, which is something that teenagers do. August, on the other hand, is the ‘good’ child. He’s a saint. He doesn't do anything wrong. He immediately allows his father back into their lives and Stella is the one who's questioning, ‘why?’. This man was gone when we needed him. She wants August to stand up for them. But August doesn't. He wants to keep the piece. That's a fun little subversion that I’ve been wanting to see in shows but this one is giving it to us.

And then there are these other little things, like Stella is playing soccer. I have not seen soccer in an American TV show, so that's really unexpected. It's usually American football, or it’s lacrosse, like in Teen Wolf, but soccer? Not so much, so that's fun. You see August kind of helping with the cooking, but he's also very interested in photography. And that's a creative field that we usually see female characters get into. What's also quite interesting in Walker is that both Stella and August are taking after their mother. They do things that she used to like doing, that she was interested in, that they did with her. Their father, not so much, even though he was also absent so they would want to do something that he likes. But it seems like they're genetically predisposed to want to be like their mom, so that's fun.

From what we know of Emily, she was quite multitalented. She was a photographer. She was a great mom. She was a good friend; she was a wonderful wife; she was a handyman. And Walker, on the other hand, is terrible with tools. We don't usually get to see things like that.

Mon: In a way, Walker is defined by only two things: his job and his family. But Emily, despite having such curtailed screen time, is this fully-fledged character, who was so amazing in every way and everybody is like, kind of, always wishing that Emily was there, and not Walker. I don't know if they intended that as a subversion, but it sure comes across as that.

Ron: What Walker does well is that the subversion isn't just limited to the Walker family. Like we see Micki, is the Ranger, but her partner, Trey, is a nurse. Now, this is something that used to drive me up the wall about most shows that were, you know, in any way action-oriented, sci-fi, fantasy. Female characters were almost always relegated to the role of healer or nurturer, male characters got to go out there and fight. But here, it's exactly the opposite. Micki is the one who is going out and fighting, whereas Trey is the one who is there to help people and take care of them if things go bad.

Mon: And not just medically. He's also an emotional support for a lot of people. Like he's there for Stella, he's there for Walker. He's also there for Micki. So again, that's why we need a refreshing change from what we've always had. And I like that it’s the CW which is doing it because, yeah, they’re kind of on the map because of their superhero stuff, but we've always found that even with the superhero stuff, there have been times when we felt like they could have pushed some boundaries, but they didn't. And with this show, I'm not saying they're like, completely breaking every possible glass ceiling. I'm just saying that they're doing a very good job of making some cracks.

Ron: I mean there is a strip club scene which is not what it looks like. That's all I'm gonna say.

From episode 2 onwards, every story has been really, really exciting. So, from a writing point of view, the show is also doing a really good job. I've actually found myself surprised by the direction of some of the stories, and that's quite fun, considering we've watched a lot of police procedurals in our lives.

Mon: At this point, it's easy to get a little bit jaded with pop culture. This is our entertainment—action stuff, superhero stuff, we are for it. But you need to innovate. It's a tough landscape, there's so much new content coming out, so much of it is in the same genre. What I feel like with Walker is that, mostly because of Padalecki, he's gonna draw in a completely different crowd, which is the Supernatural crowd. And because it's on The CW, you're also getting eyeballs from an audience who is kind of watching Riverdale in the evenings. And then they got Walker. And you need that balance, because so much content is cruise control. And as we said, this show could easily have been that, but it wasn’t. And it's trying very hard not to.

As we said, there is a certain pattern, because in every episode, you're like, ‘Wait, did they just do that?’ And it makes you sit up and take notice and wonder, ‘okay in all these years, why did no other show have this particular scene?’ And more than anything else, I think that's what's making us come back. It's like, how are they innovating? How are they being more creative and more innovative with the same established storylines and dynamics.

Ron: I'm going to give Walker props for even trying to do things differently, because you just mentioned Riverdale, and that show is entertaining, but it's been so cliched from the very start. And considering its audience, I really would have wanted it to do something a little bit different. There have been times when I’ve watched Riverdal and I thought, ‘Oh okay, that's a little bit different.’ But honestly, it just doesn't try that hard.

Mon: No, in fact, some of the messaging in there is problematic to say the least. Young people are watching it, and, well, young people are on The CW a lot, and I do worry that they need to get a strong message about what's right, what's wrong and what you should be questioning,

And that's what Walker is doing. It is acknowledging the privilege of this family. But at the same time, it is also telling us that they have their own struggles. Are their struggles greater than other people? No. But this is the story that we’re being told, because we need the audience stand in, and as we know the easiest way for the audience to walk into a show is through somebody who apparently looks like them.

Ron: The people around the Walker family are people of color. So you have Micki, you have Trey, you have Captain James, Stella's friend, August’s possible love interest, they haven't got there yet. Even Cordell’s brother Liam, his partner is a person of color. So you've got this in with the Walker family, but around them, you’ve got all these people of color who we definitely are interested in and invested in. It could have easily been the other way around, and I would have liked that, but I'll take it.

Mon: I think the smart move by the writers has been that not only do we have an in with a white family, but we're also looking through their eyes to understand the different viewpoints of the people around them. And essentially what's happening is that no one is being made to feel alienated in a circumstance or an environment that they feel is their own. So, the fact that the white family has a ranch, and stuff like that okay, yeah, that's aspirational for a lot of people. But you also have the Black captain who is new. So you have that audience who is enjoying being part of a club, if you could say, that hasn't always represented them. And then you have, of course, with Micki, and the dichotomy of being a Texas Ranger, when the Texas Rangers are such a problem for the Latinx community. So it’s this inclusivity, which I guess we’re really, there for.

Ron: And that's all just within the first six episodes, so I really don't know where this show is going to be going. I'm very excited by its direction. And I'm really surprised that from all the shows that we've seen Walker is the one that's making us think, ‘well, this is doing something different’.

Mon: Yeah, and I think it's fortuitous that we are recording this episode after episode 6. That was some episode! A lot happened, they packed in a lot. There were a lot of twists and turns too; a lot of bombshells in there. And it's actually making us rethink how we have viewed some of the characters. There are some revelations coming and I don't think we're gonna like it.

Ron: Well, I for one, am totally invested in this show. Episode 6 felt like it was a turning point. According to Anna Fricke, the showrunner, things are gonna be happening. I cannot wait to find out what they are.

So, there you have it. We're really enjoying the first six episodes of Walker, which is not something we thought that we would be saying on our podcast.

Mon: But we’re glad we are. Because, you know what, if you haven't caught this show because you think it's not your kind of show, give it a shot. And give it a shot beyond just the pilot episode because you're in for a ride.

Ron: And some really great characters.

Mon: Absolutely.

Ron: Have you watched Walker? What did you think of it? We'd love to hear from you.

You can find us on Twitter @Stereo_Geeks. Or send us an email [email protected]. We hope you enjoyed this episode. And see you next week!

Mon: The Stereo Geeks logo was created using Canva. The music for our podcast comes courtesy Audionautix.

[Continuum by Audionautix plays]

Transcription by Otter.ai, Ron, and Mon.

#walker #the cw #jared paladecki #supernatural #stereo geeks #reboot #podcast

8 notes · View notes

mithrilwren · 4 years

Text

Ceremony

Wedding: You touch adult humanoids willing to be bonded together in marriage. For the next 7 days, each target gains a +2 bonus to AC while they are within 30 feet of each other. A creature can benefit from this rite again only if widowed.

Over the course of the Stolen Century, Barry and Lup shamelessly exploit a convenient magical loophole.

(Also on Ao3)

---

49.

Three months into the forty-ninth year, Barry turns to look at Lup. Her face is lit by the cascade of neon flashes from the frogs in the trees above, croaking their many-coloured song, and the air is cold on his tongue, and his hand is in hers as they walk through the night air. She notices him watching. She always does, and her eyes glint in amusement: purple and azure and green and gold.

“What’re you thinking?”

He takes a breath and says, “We’re going to get married, aren’t we?”

He says it not with nervous hesitation, but with the wonder of realization, like a child dazzled at their first snowfall. Lup’s smile is wicked, but the hand around his squeezes gently.

“Well, duh.”

And they do. Not that year, because Lup’s not having a wedding on the planet of radioactive frog slime, and Barry likes the evenness of 50 for an anniversary. It’s a nicer number than 49, at any rate. Some just are.

This world ends quietly. The Hunger comes and the whole crew, safe and sound aboard the Starblaster, watches from the bridge viewport as the neon lights that once sang amidst the blanket of leaves twinkle and then fade. Not even Taako, who’d spend the whole year cursing the frogs for disturbing his sleep, says a word.

None of them has ever seen silence fall before.

They all keep quiet, and still, and then they all fade too.

50.

The fiftieth year is spent planning. Lup tells Taako about their plan, and then Taako teases her about it in front of Magnus, who can’t contain his excitement long enough for damage control and suddenly the whole crew knows that this is the year they’re finally making it official, and they are pumped. Everyone is eager to sink into any strategizing endeavour that doesn’t involve thousands of lives, and preventing the destruction thereof.

Davenport and Magnus set to work chasing the light of creation on this new world, this fiftieth home – a vast oceania, with towns dotting the edges of the many archipelagos that make up the landmass of the planet. They find it easily enough in the rocky shoals of one of the smaller islands, before the locals can get too attached to the new meteorite in their bay. With that problem squared away, everyone’s attention is back on the wedding, and the first ever IPRE Party Planning Committee is brought to order.

Taako’s got the food on lock, because of course he does, but he also helps Lup pick a dress from one of the open-aired markets in town: a breezy lilac slip with golden threads that catch the highlights in her hair.

Lucretia gets all their paperwork in order in case they want to file properly when they get back to their own world or… well, in any case, it’s good to have a record. She’s also unofficially in charge of streamers, because nobody but her and Magnus are sufficiently inoculated towards slimy ocean creatures to spend their evenings weaving strands of shimmery seaweed into party decorations.

Davenport cozies up enough to the local mayor to score some fine liquor for toasts. He sneaks a few bottles extra into his quarters, for safekeeping.

Magnus works so hard. He spends every spare minute practicing his carving, getting ready for the main event. At first, he fills Fisher’s tank with progressively more detailed ducks – an attempt to sooth the loneliness of the now-orphaned child, as much as any other purpose. But soon he hides away in a little cave by the coast, only returning to the ship to retrieve more boughs from those he collected from the forests of the previous planet. He refuses to let anyone see what he’s making until it’s absolutely finished.

Merle… frets.

“I mean, you could just ask Davenport. I figure, since he’s the captain and all... Isn’t he, you know, vested with the powers that be?”

“We could,” Lup nods. “Or we could ask you. Like we just did.”

Merle rubs at the back of his neck, using every inch of height disparity to avoid looking at Lup and Barry’s eyes. “I’m not- are you really sure you want me doing this? Me?”

“Why not you?” Barry asks, genuinely curious.

“I know I’m like, a cleric...”

“Debatable!” chimes Taako from the other side of the wall, and Merle grits his teeth just a little harder.

“Not helping, dear brother mine!” Lup calls cheerfully, and shoots a subtle charm behind her back that stands the hair on Barry’s arm on end. Moments later, there’s a thud and a slew of curses, and Lup smiles. “You were saying?”

“I’ve honestly,” Merle lowers his voice in case Taako is still in earshot. “I’ve never done one of these before. It’s the type of thing they train you for when you’re fully initiated and I never got that far. There’s special words that you’re supposed to use to complete the bonding, and a spell, and I just… I don’t want to screw this up, ok?”

“Merle,” says Lup, bending at the waist till she’s on eye level with Merle’s flushed face. “There is nothing, nothing, that you could do on my wedding day that would make me happier than to completely fuck it up. Where’s the story in perfection? Where’s the pizzazz. Say the wrong words, blow something up! I live for uncertainty.”

“Please don’t actually blow anything up if you can help it, though-” Barry interjects.

“But if you do, I’ll be behind you, 100%. As I push you between me and any sparks that get too close to the bomb-ass dress Taako and I picked out.”

“Oh yes, I feel much better now,” Merle grumbles, but he also stops arguing, which means they’ve got the priest, which is really, the last thing they needed.

Lup and Barry get up one morning – a full two months before the Hunger’s arrival – and suddenly, it’s the day. Taako forces eggs and coffee down their throats, prescribing four hundred calories apiece before they’re allowed to get dressed. Merle picks wildflowers and lays them out in matching corsages on the breakfast table before rushing off to resume his muttered practicing. Davenport and Lucretia take them each aside and help them into their outfits, and Barry has never felt more nervous in his life than as he slips on the lightweight suit. Blue, to match the sea, and because he lives to meet expectations.

And then everyone else is outside, and they’re standing hand in hand, waiting to walk down from the open door of the ship, and Barry turns to look at Lup. “We’re getting married,” he manages to get out through his rapidly closing throat.

“Sure are, champ,” she says quietly.

It’s funny. He’d always figured he’d be the first one to cry.

Everyone’s waiting when they finally step through the door. Two thick streamers of seaweed form an aisle from the gangway to where Merle stands beneath Magnus’s project: a giant archway of hewn branches, twisting eagerly in an arc towards the sky. Whatever rough patches and nicks remain in the wood are covered by intertwining flowers, perfectly matched to the garlands around their wrists. On either side of the aisle, their friends sit cross-legged in the white sand: Taako and Davenport on one side, and Lucretia and Magnus on the other. Cradled in Magnus’s lap is Fisher, who hums cheerfully at the sunlight and the joy of living, probably.

They all end up sitting in the sand, even Merle, and it feels less like a ceremony than a congregation of friends sharing a lazy afternoon, and Barry wouldn’t have it any other way. Merle stumbles his way through his lines, but he manages all right in the end, or at least Barry assumes he does. He’s too busy staring at Lup to listen, committing every second of this perfect day to memory: her loose curls twisting in the breeze, her smudged mascara, her bare feet half-buried under the sand.

When he tunes back in, it’s to the last words of Merle’s benediction, and his chest swells with warmth and love and- that’s a little too much warmth, actually, and judging by the alarmed look on Lup’s face, she’s feeling the same strange glow in her chest.

“Well, shit,” Merle breathes. “It actually worked.” Before Barry can ask, he’s patting them both gleefully on the shoulder. “By the power invested in me, apparently, you’re now husband and wife! And also, you get a bonus week of Pan’s blessing – so now’s a good time to get into a boss fight I guess, if you’re itching for one.”

Barry doesn’t hear that last part too clearly. He’s too busy being shoved into the sand by his wife oh my god oh my god and kissed senseless.

Merle wasn’t lying about the blessing either. When they’re together, there’s this warmth of surety, like anyone or anything who tried to separate them would need a miracle to succeed. Magnus accidentally hucks a rock in Lup’s direction and it glances off her shoulder like a rubber ball. Barry stubs his toe on the edge of a reef and barely feels the sting. The warmth is strongest when they’re pressed against each other, every inch of them connected, and so they stay like that for three wonderful, magical days – never out of arm’s reach.

They go swimming, just the two of them, on the fourth day. Barry’s never been so pleased that Taako taught him as he is now. They’re just twirling together, treading water out past the dropoff, and the sky is growing dark when Lup says they might to head in, it’s getting chilly, darling, and then the hail starts to fall.

At first, there are only little pieces that ping in the water all around them, nipping at their bare shoulders like blackflies as they start to swim back. Then a great chunk of ice slams into the spot Barry’s outstretched hand was reaching towards. All around them a pounding rhythm picks up pace, and Lup starts muttering shit, shit as they double their speed. Through bleary, salt-drenched eyes Barry thinks he sees the shadow of a figure standing on the shore with arms outstretched, but he can’t hear what they’re calling over the wind and the waves and the relentless pounding in his ears. All he can hear is Lup and her desperate muttering as she tries to form a sigil in the air with the hand he isn’t desperately grasping, dragging along. With a cry, she sends a blast of force cascading out in a sphere around them, and for a moment, the roar of the sea and the storm disappear and it’s just the two of them in silence, clinging to each other-

And then red blooms behind Barry’s eyes and he’s sinking and with every foot he slips the water grows colder, or maybe it’s him that’s gone cold, without her. Or-

Or-

He wakes to find Lup already wrapped around him on the Starblaster deck, and the supernatural warmth of Pan’s blessing is gone but she’s safe and he’s alive and the press of her arms is enough for him any day.

She murmurs hoarsely, words meant only for his ears, and he can tell she’s crying even without seeing her face. “These last months, Barry… god, I missed you so much, you can’t even know-” He squeezes her shoulders and she sighs, before lifting her head and declaring to the room of equally tearful onlookers,

“This man had the nerve to fucking leave me in the middle of our honeymoon? That’s it, Barry Bluejeans.” Her smile is wet and determined and beautiful.

“I demand a do-over.”

51.

For Lup, the announcement is mostly a joke, but then everyone is… kind of on board and she… kind of very much wants them to be.

She got her perfect fairytale wedding once, and she doesn’t want – doesn’t need – to replace that, but to lose her husband three days after getting him? She’s imagined some pretty bleak futures in her time, and even the worst of them didn’t tip the scale to quite that depressing. They may have all eternity to cycle. Might as well try for the perfect fairytale honeymoon too.

The second wedding is a more rushed affair. The new planet comes with warring factions and a power struggle and the Light lost somewhere in the fray of muddy battlegrounds, and it takes all of their combined efforts to retrieve the thing before one despot or another can get their hands on it. By the time they do, they’ve got less than a month till the Hunger comes, and most of the crew are footsore and weary from the last push. In fact, Lup’s pretty sure it’s not going to happen at all. She doesn’t bring it up – no use adding one more mission to the pile – but it pulls at parts of her that she’d thought she buried, the memories of lonesome nights spent wondering if there was any happiness in the world that couldn’t be taken away.

Against all expectations, the one who brings it up is Merle.

He comes and knocks at their door and she answers, and waits patiently for him to stop shuffling his feet. Which is to say, she patiently says, “Spit it the fuck out, Merle.”

“Well, uh, what day were you wantin’ the wedding to be? Now that we’ve got this whole situation under wraps, I thought you’d-”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish the thought with his head smothered in Lup’s shirt as she pulls him into a tight hug.

The roles are different now, but maybe they all are too. The years go by quicker, and they all seem a little older with each cycle, though their bodies stay the same. Lup likes to think the change is for the better.

Davenport finds a copse of trees somehow spared the ravages of war and they set down there, working to clear the area as quickly as possible. He coordinates decorations, not refugees, and his shoulders untense for the first time in six months.

Magnus apologizes for leaving the arch behind on the last world. The apology is for Barry’s benefit, not Lup’s, because Barry doesn’t need to know that no matter how hard Magnus had worked on it, and how much she wanted to spare his feelings, Lup couldn’t bear the sight of that arch after the night of the storm. She’s not sure what he did with his creation after she told him, but she never saw it again. Maybe it’s lying at the bottom of the same ocean that Barry- nope. That’s not a thought that needs to happen.

Taako hangs fairy lights from the eaves with his wand, and they all settle in on the newly-swept ground. The world around them couldn’t be more different than a seaside paradise, but they’re all still a congregation of friends. Merle is more comfortable this time around, even injecting a couple jokes into the stuffy liturgy, and though the overwhelming exhilaration of the first wedding is dampened, there’s an ease to the affair that’s new and welcome.

Merle places his hands on their shoulders again and says, “By the power invested in me, blah blah, you know the drill-” He startles backwards, grey eyebrows flying up into his hairline as a familiar warmth settles back into Lup’s chest. She cocks her head.

“What’s up?”

He blinks. “It’s just… the spell. The blessing from Pan. It’s a one-time-per-couple deal. You’re not supposed to be able to place it twice on the same people, not unless…”

“Go on,” she says, as he greens, suddenly cagey.

“Well, there’s a clause in the case of… if someone is widowed. Then they can get it again. Usually that means with another person though-”

“I think our whole existence is an affront to the natural order. Let’s not sweat the technicalities.” And she pulls Barry in for a kiss, because he’s her husband, and because she can.

They barely leave their room for the next week. Lup won’t admit to being afraid of the moment shattering again, and Barry is similarly reticent, and so they talk about everything else in the world except death. Barry learns a bit more about Lup and Taako’s childhood, and he tells her about the cat he rescued from a garbage can near his university, and they read, and make love, and sleep, and wake up to find the other still there. The rest of the crew give their cabin a wide berth.

It’s not quite a fairytale, but it’s nice. And that’s more than good enough.

On the evening of the seventh day, Lup is lazily drawing patterns on a sleeping Barry’s shoulder when she feels the warmth in her chest begin to ebb. She digs her nails in and shakes, heart beating too fast all at once because no, this can’t be happening, it can’t, not again, until Barry flips over with a yawn and she regains control of her lungs.

“What’s up?” he asks, and then his eyes widen, hand going to his own chest. “Guess that’s that.”

“End of the honeymoon,” she says faintly. Her chest is cold, like swallowed seawater.

“Time to rejoin the world of the living?”

“…Nah,” she says, and burrows her head back into his shoulder. His heart thuds against her ear with a gentle pulse, and she slows her breathing to match its rhythm.

They stay like that, curled into each other, until the silence is replaced by the roar of engines and Davenport’s voice through the intercom. Liftoff. Everyone to their stations. Lup closes her eyes and pulls Barry back down when he tries to get up.

She’s never been good at following orders.

58.

“Do you honestly think I would abuse Pan’s divine favour for something this trivial?” Barry, Lup, the entire cosmos sideeyes Merle. “… Yeah, fair enough. Fine,” he sighs, resigned. “Where do you want me?”

It was actually Barry’s idea. The scientist within him was burning away at the question, and true to form, Lup was just as eager to test out the constraints of any new and interesting magic.

“We can do it right here, if you want,” Barry says, gesturing down at the galley table they’re all seated at. Well, that he and Merle at seated at – technically, Lup is seated on. From the other side of the room, Lucretia pricks her ears up, obviously interested in what they’re doing, but keeping her nose firmly buried in her book.

“What, no garlands and twinkles this time around?” Merle says.

“I’ve had two beautiful wedding days already. I’m ok with this one being quick and dirty,” Lup explains.

Merle rubs his hands together, mouth twitching nervously beneath his beard. “Well, alright then. I guess we’re doing this… now?”

“Not getting any younger,” Lup says, which is both so completely true and completely untrue that Barry’s head spins too much to make a joke out of it. “Hey, Luce! Got a sec?”

Lucretia pads quietly from the other side of the room, her book still propped open in the crook of her arm. “What’s going on?”

“Getting married again, darling,” Lup says sweetly, and tugs her down till she’s seated in the chair next to Barry. “Want to be our witness?”

She looks confused a moment, but then slowly nods. “Sure. I’d be honoured.”

“Great!” Lup reaches down from her perch and ruffles her hair, which only drags a small frown to Lucretia’s face. “Let’s do this!”

Merle skips straight to the good stuff this time around, getting the blessing out in practically one breath, and Barry readies himself to feel the warmth in his chest, and-

Nothing.

“Huh,” all three of them say at once.

“Maybe Pan’s taking a nap,” Merle says. “Want me to try again?” Lucretia flips a page in her book, settling in for the long haul.

They do try again, more slowly this time, and Merle repeats every work of the liturgy, and Barry and Lup say their entire vows, and again, nothing.

“Sorry. Guess I lost my juju.”

“No, this actually tells us something interesting,” Barry reassures him. “I’d be wondering what happened to us at the end of our cycles, whether we just die and get remade, or if we blink out of reality and reappear. If we actually died, I’d assume the blessing would be nullified. Since it’s not, we can rule out death as what’s happening at the end of each year.”

“That’s only sort-of comforting, babe,” Lup says, patting his arm.

“I’m hoping neither of you are planning on dying again, just so you can reap my holy tax benefits.”

“Never,” Lup promises, and Barry thinks it’s another joke, until he turns and looks at Lup’s face. Her mouth is set in a grim line. The hand on his shoulder tightens, then tightens again. “Not if I can help it.”

59.

“Barry. Darling. Love of my life.”

“What?” he says, as Lup pulls him into her arms, back on the deck of the Starblaster once more. This time there are no tears, but she looks a little more faded than he’s ever seen her.

“Please tell me you didn’t take that crossbow bolt for science.”

He puts a hand over his chest, where only a moment before there had been a bleeding hole.

He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even answer. He just holds her close.

78.

They fucked up.

They fucked up, oh fuck oh f-

Lup tears her eyes away from Magnus’s limp body, sprawled across the obsidian floor mere feet from the Light, his torn shirt cast in hazy red from the streams of magma that cascade from the ceiling. Another rock breaks free and crashes to the floor, and Lup can’t see Taako anymore, she can’t see him she-

“Lup!” Barry’s hand catches her and drags her back as a spire falls onto the place she was standing, shattering into jagged shrapnel that bites at her calves and thighs. “We have to go!”

“Taako’s still-”

“Taako’s gone, Lup!”

And he is. She saw him take that fateful misstep. She saw where he fell.

Nobody, not even her, could survive that much fire.

Then run maybe ten paces before another rock crashes down in front of them and they have to pivot back towards where they came. She can’t see anyone anymore, not Davenport or Lucretia or Merle and why did they all come, why did they get this careless? Yes, the stones were heavy to move but someone should have stayed behind-

Another rock tumbles from the ceiling and smashes into Lup’s arm. She’s flung forward, nearly wrenched from Barry’s grip by the impact, half-sobbing from frustration. They can see the exit from here… but they aren’t going to make it. It’s just too far.

None of them are going to make it.

Oh, fuck.

They have to try. They have to. Even if everyone else is dead, they have to-

A hand, smaller than Barry’s, grabs her shirt by the tails and yanks her back towards the wall. She feels Barry moving in the same direction and they both slam into the stone at once, coming face to face with Merle’s sweat-stained face.

“What-” but he’s already chanting, eyes closed, muttering words too gentle for the horrific sounds of death and destruction as the room collapses around them, and when he finishes Lup’s chest warms, and warms, and she does sob now, because it feels good. It feels like hope, when there was none.

“Bring us home,” Merle says, and shoves the two of them towards the blackened cavern entrance. “Go!”

Lup tries to grab his hand but he shoves her away, and she and Barry take off running, bounding around projectiles with catlike grace as they move in sync, like they share the same body. She only looks back when their feet pass the threshold, and she sees Merle still standing there against the wall, watching them with a sad, relieved smile.

Another rock loosens. She hears the crack as it breaks away, but Lup turns before she can see where it lands.

82.

The night before the ritual, Merle takes the two of them aside.

“So,” he says. “You’re really going through with it.”

“Yeah, Merle,” says Lup. “We really are.”

He smiles, something tight and curling and frightened. “You’re sure there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?” Lup smiles back. “Didn’t think so, but I had to ask.” He takes out his book, and both Barry and Lup frown in confusion as he flips it open to a familiar page. “One last time, for old time’s sake?”

They look at each other. “Why?” asks Barry. “Once we’re liches, I’m sure the spell will dissipate. I doubt it transfers between metaphysical bodies.”

Merle snorts out through his nose, then turns his head away, rubbing one heel of his hand against his cheek, just above the tufts of his white beard. “Yeah,” he says. “You’re probably right.” His voice goes husky near the middle, but he refinds its center before he turns back to them. “But this is what I can do, so if there’s even a chance that’ll it’ll help…”

“Then we’ll take it,” Lup says, grabbing Merle’s hand before he can close the book. “Shit. Thank you.”

“Thanks for what? I haven’t done nothing yet.”

“For everything.” She swallows. “For everything. And if this doesn’t work-”

“Lup-“ Barry warns.

“If this doesn’t work,” Lup continues. “I just need you to know that. Alright? You did everything you could.”

“What are you talking about?” Merle laughs. “Of course it’s going to work. I’ve done it five times now. Have a little more faith.” He looks at Lup, and she looks at him, and their shared gaze is warm, and understanding. “So don’t you worry, I’m going to take good care of both of you. That’s my job.”

“Thanks, Merle,” Barry says, echoing loops words, and Merle’s wobbling tone.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s do this.” He takes both their hands and places them on top of the book. “By the powers vested in me…”

Merle’s words fade out as Barry looks at Lup. Her brilliant eyes meet his, and even as the warmth swells, the look they share is one of farewell.

No matter what happens tomorrow, this’ll be the last time they share this.

But no matter what happens, they’re going to be together.

Come hell or high water, he’s never going to leave her alone again.

~&$(No DATE given@(*#

It’s cold up here, in the sky.

Barry wraps his jacket around Lup’s shoulders, and she leans in under his arm, swinging her legs to keep warm, or just to keep moving. Her bare feet flicker as the lights below pass by – a sparkling metropolis by the sea, and they can see it all from their perch on the last metal outcropping of the base: Neverwinter, in all its evening glory. After everything, impossibly, safe and sound.

Lup slides a little farther, sticking her big toe out as far as she can reach it, and suddenly the entire foot becomes buoyant, like it weighs nothing at all. Lup giggles at the sudden loss of gravity, and Barry redoubles his grip on the fluttering pages in his lap.

It figures, that Lucretia would have still had these. If there’s one thing she takes seriously, it’s her paperwork.

“What do’ya think?” Lup says. “If I spit, do you think it would hit someone, or would it just burn up in the atmosphere?” Before he gets a chance to answer, she hocks a loogie and lets it fly. They both watch the orb of spit vanish into the frosty air.

“It’s more likely that it’ll find its way back around the moon and land on someone up here.”

“Even better.” Lup grins, and Barry pulls her in all the tighter.

He’s missed this.

He’s missed so much, and this most of all.

“This feels silly,” he admits, shuffling through the papers. “I don’t even know why Lucretia wanted them in the first place. It’s not like we even officially exist anymore. Nobody’s going to come checking to see if our personnel records are up to date.”

“Yeah, but what Luce wants, Luce gets,” and there’s a bite to the words that wasn’t there before, and the air gets a little colder, and he shivers for the both of them.

Even with so many things mended, there are some they can’t undo.

Still, Lup’s voice softens as she takes the first page and holds it up to the light of the second moon, the real moon. “You sure you don’t want one last ceremony? Just for old times’ sake?”

He chuckles, imagining Merle’s face if they asked. “I’m good. All I want is you, at my side, forever and always.”

“That’s some corny shit, Bluejeans.” He shrugs, and she tucks her feet back up under her. “But you know I love it.” She puts the page back down onto the pile and pulls a pen out from behind her ear, then passes it to Barry. “So, what do you say? Will you make me an honest woman, officially?”

In every lifetime, in every moment, past and present, his answer has never changed.

“Yes. I will.”

He takes the pen and scribbles his name down on the dotted line, then passes the pen back. Lup adds her own signature to the other, and they both sit back, staring at the blocky letters of script at the top of the page.

Certificate of Marriage

No ceremony, no warmth, no mystical connection. They set the papers aside and kiss under the lights from above and below, and it’s only them, and that’s plenty. That’s all they need to be.

Forever and always, connected.

#taz #taz balance #taz fic #blupjeans #barry bluejeans #lup #my writing #i started this fic all the way back in 2018 #it feels wonderful to finally finish it #even if it's been a while since i've listened to balance these characters still have my heart

302 notes · View notes

jacks-jester · 4 years

Text

Kiss it better?

[Jerome Valeska x Reader]

Words: 1,367

Warnings: None?

Requested? Yes / No

Summary: Jerome always had a penchant for being over dramatic, craving as much attention as possible. Today was no an exception.

A/N~ I decided to make a more light hearted and jesting piece after the somewhat angsty roll I’ve been on with my fics. I’m planning on releasing a few more today hopefully. Please keep the requests coming, so far I’ve gotten mostly Jerome requests which is awesome! Thank you for all the support everyone has been giving me so far!

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Your and Jerome had decided to take a day off from your usual scheming, chaos, and overall crime ridden habits. You and Jerome were easily two of the most feared people in Gotham, the pair of you always out causing some kind of trouble in the city with little regard for the people in it. You and Jerome had always believed the city to be filthy, though the two of you wouldn’t have it any other way. With the negligent police department, it made you and Jerome's plans all the more easy to carry out. It was a city shrouded in chaos and the two of you loved it.

Jerome and you could always be found attached at the hip, both of you rarely found separate from one another. You two had been together since you met in Arkham, him initially approaching you in the asylums leisure area, him challenging you to an innocent game of Candyland. He had taken you off guard with the request, no denying that. When people approached you in Arkham, it was rarely a good thing, especially not when you were a girl. It took only one game of childish banter back and forth, you beating him with ease that his mind was made up. You two just fit, your personalities and mania causing both of you to easily get along and bounce off each other. You were both stubborn, a bit childish, hyperactive, and both agents of chaos - it was a match made in hell, well at least for outsiders, to the two of you it was absolute heaven.

You two had been through thick and thin together, always supporting each other through your schemes and criminal activity, often found bouncing plans off one another. Jerome always held a certain liveliness about him, always putting on a performance for anyone who would watch. There was always something going on with him, from the night he died, to the day he returned. Jerome was everything you could imagine in a partner, even his possessiveness over you was amusing. God forbid someone look at you without his permission, more than a few people had ended at the hands of his knife due to his jealous tendencies. He was like a child who didn’t want to share their favorite toy, holding it as close to his chest as possible, pouting if he even thought someone else was trying to take it from him.

Jerome was always a very affectionate person behind closed doors, though you doubted anyone would expect that of him. Jerome gave off a very sadistic and manipulative performance to the public, any pda often being possessive in nature, used to prove a point that you were his. Behind closed doors, it was rare for him to not be seeking your attention, his hands rarely not touching you some way. You supposed it was because of his childhood, often being neglected, abused, mistreated, never getting any sort of attention or affection from the people who should have been trying to give him the world. You boiled it down to the fact that he became dependent and addicted to the feeling of being needed and loved, something you didn’t mind giving to him in the slightest.

Jerome was always the more spontaneous and sporadic of the two of you, rarely ever getting stuff down on paper, instead just winging his general outline of a plan. You on the other hand handled the actual planning out, often looking for maps of areas to get in and out as fast as possible, you were semi logical. Thats precisely what you were doing now in Jerome and yours shared room, sitting at the desk in the far corner drawing out a map of your next heist. You knew it was supposed to be a day off for the two of you, but couldn’t help yourself. This greatly annoyed Jerome, him wanting all your attention to be on him, but today you seemed to be more focused on your mapping than him.

He had persisted all day, pulling your hair, blasting music, overall just pestering you too try and get you to give him some form of attention - none of it worked, you simply humming in response to anything he said to you. It wasn’t until an hour later that he gave up his attempts, opting to instead look over old maps you had drawn out, including the one from the night Theo had killed him. Jerome cursed himself lightly as the paper slid over his finger, a small cut beading with droplets of blood forming on his index finger. He was fed up with being ignored, opting to force you to pay attention to him the best way he could. You were always obsessive with him being out of harms way, that was one of the main reasons you always took to drawing up maps, to keep the heists as safe as possible. Even when he initially got his face back, you made sure he cleaned it everyday to stop any potential infections.

You were brought out of your thoughts as you heard a pained yelp come from down the hall, your instincts kicking in as you pushed your seat back, making your way down the hall to where Jerome's shouting had come from. “J? You alright?” Jerome only smirked to himself as he heard your light pacing come down the hall, your soft voice ringing out through your shared housing. His smirk fell to a fake pained expression as he heard you nearing the room he was in. You raised an eyebrow as you noticed him sitting on the couch, a couple of your previous maps strewn messily around the room. You approached without much though, “Why did you yell?” You looked him over, not noticing any obvious injuries, Jerome always had a extremely high pain tolerance so you assumed something must have happened for him to yelp the way he did. You took in his pained expression, though you noticed the small glint of amusement in his eyes.

You watched as he held his palm towards you, noticing the small red incision on his finger pad, red pooling on his finger. He let out a dramatic sigh, looking away as if the sight sickened him to the core. “I think I’m dying dollface.” You rolled your eyes as he continued his feigned pain, performative as always, his legs strewn about widely, his other hand dramatically layed across his forehead, eyes pinched shut as a deep frown was set on his lips. You raised an eyebrow, arms crossed as you looked at the attractive red head, used to his attention hungry mannerisms. “You done?” He looked out you with feigned hurt, a gasp making its way out of his rosy lips. “I’m hurt doll, don’t you care? I’m dying and you could care less.”

You looked over and shook your head, a small laugh escaping you lips. “J, need I remind you that for a while you were stapling your own face several times a day? I think you’re fine.” Jerome only looked at you with a huff of annoyance, “Yeah, but I just-” You could see he was stuck, unsure of a rebuttal to your comment. Though eventually a smirk made its way to his face, soon being replaced with a pleading frown. “Kiss it better?” You raised an eyebrow and sighed, giving into his pleas. “You want my attention that badly J?” He just smirked at you, an impish grin on his lips.

You let out a small laugh before nodding, “You’re lucky I love you J.” You knew why he was doing this, it only warmed your heart though, no annoyance to be found with his playful acting. “Come on then.” You turned to head back to your room, only being stopped as Jerome scooped you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style, carrying you with a wide grin towards your room. You rolled yours eyes, but couldn't help the grin that formed on your face. “Thought you were dying J, seems you’re just fine.” He just smiled widely down at you, “Don’t know what you’re referring to dollface.”

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Time: 47 minutes

Not grammar edited yet

#jerome valeska #jerome valeska x reader #cameron monaghan #joker x reader #the joker x reader #gotham one shot #gotham

89 notes · View notes

dwellordream · 3 years

Text

“...In the efforts of girls to be good and repress self, diaries seem to have had a moderating effect. Certainly keeping a diary which recorded successes and failures along the road to virtue was an additional incentive to be good. A success could be recorded and celebrated. At the same time, an always-listening, never-judging diary was something of a tonic. Girls who talked enough about their efforts to be good availed themselves of a simplified version of the ‘‘talking cure’’ which would soon be used by Sigmund Freud and Josef Breuer with middle-class Viennese girls. (The disproportionate number of adolescent or late-adolescent females in Freud and Breuer’s early work, and indeed the role of hysteria in their formulation of psychoanalysis, corroborates the special salience of language therapy for Victorian girls.)

…Within their diaries, girls assiduously recorded their efforts to be better— echoing, internalizing, and ultimately softening parental imperatives. Just as diaries moderated parental dictates, they mediated parental identifications. As the critic and analyst Katherine Dalsimer suggests, diaries proved to be revisited ‘‘transitional objects’’ useful in the processes of adolescent separation. No other metaphor quite captures the depth of attachment which girls sometimes demonstrated to their ‘‘darling’’ diaries than that analogy to the anthropomorphic blanket or teddy bear of early childhood.

Within vessels chartered and christened by parents, Victorian girls embarked on imaginative journeys which did not threaten to take them too far from home. Though often received from parents as gifts, diaries nonetheless granted more freedom than parents did. In diaries, girls could take on new attachments without abandoning old reliances. Thus when Margaret Tileston went away to boarding school and developed a crush on an older girl, she recorded it in her diary—as well as the news that she had just written a twelve-page letter to her mother, ‘‘the longest letter I ever wrote.’’

And when Helen Hart fell in love with her cousin, she confessed to her diary the prolonged anguish. Such confessions to diaries replaced those to parents—but with parents’ informal acquiescence. The diary was thus a tool for legitimating the ongoing reorientation of girls from parents to peers. Often the diary’s role in this transition was not symbolic at all, but quite concrete. Like rolling hoops, diary keeping was a late-Victorian recreation which girls sometimes shared with friends. Mary Boit and her cousins hid secrets in each other’s diaries, sometimes simply for the fun of the surprise alone.

In fact, the playful fabrication of different personae in diaries was an engrossing amusement within Victorian friendships. Girls described writing diaries together in their rooms, on New Year’s Eve, at boarding school, and even in the park. Shared diary keeping, of course, carried more possibilities than rolling hoops for emotional experimentation, and diaries often became actors in the friendships themselves. Girls frequently wrote about each other, producing provocative documents that became the stuff of suspicion and intimacy. Writing diaries became a way of confessing, protecting, or creating secrets too private for speech.

…For the same reasons that parents might encourage their daughters to write to them—as a way of communicating without the embarrassment of face-to-face expression—girls might use their diaries among themselves. Writing channeled unseemly emotions. That seemed sometimes to be the point of girls’ diaries. Self-governance was expected in feeling no less than conduct, and the diary could prove both a convenient receptacle for—and an incitement to—emotional spillover. In addition to moderating harsh norms and mediating new allegiances, a girl’s diary could inspire and then compartmentalize confusing emotions.

Almost all diaries contained at least one moment of a confessional nature—sometimes crossed out, sometimes written down the spine in minute handwriting, sometimes just left dangerously on the page. For some the diary’s primary purpose seemed to be to provide a safe ground for documenting, exploring, and disciplining nascent sexuality. Victorians strictly limited open expressions of sexuality, but as Michel Foucault persuasively argues, diaries dramatically encouraged discourse about sexuality.

Precocious sexuality was both most censured and most discussed—an adult secret imperfectly kept from adolescents themselves. Harriet Burton’s diary, written between the ages of thirteen and seventeen, is a document ‘‘saturated’’ with desire. Initially, when she embarked on her diary at the age of thirteen in 1887, she was reticent: ‘‘I find it rather hard to confide all my ‘inmost soul’ to a journal for my ‘inmost soul’ is— very inmost!’’ But before long, she had discovered the purpose for which she came to rely on her diary—what she would later call her ‘‘de-praving—deep raving.’’

Although she felt that her passion could not be ‘‘natural’’ for anyone her age and imagined ‘‘how anyone would laugh, how greatly amused they would be at the mere idea of a ‘mere-child’ of fourteen—loving,’’ she found her feelings ‘‘sweet’’ and despaired at the difficulty of doing them justice— of keeping them from seeming ‘‘small and weak.’’ Such self-descriptions as this passage after her arrival for a summer visit in Oneonta, New York, are as of one crazed:

‘‘I am in a very hilarious frame of mind today, and can hardly curb my prancing spirits enough to ‘wright’ as this scrawl bears witness. My silvery voice has been heard at all hours of the day rolling forth in diabolical waves of laughter, and striking terror into the souls of the inhabitants of the house. My mind is so filled with plans which wont come true that I’m nearly crazy. My emotions for other people . . . become so conflicting that they brake from the narrow bounds of my inner man and find vent in a mad race around the house.’’

Despite her descriptions elsewhere of complete freedom for outdoor escapades of all kinds, Harriet Burton described herself here as a confined hysteric, very much within the mode of the ‘‘madwoman in the attic’’ of gothic romances. Her confinement was clearly metaphoric, a fictive imprisonment of impulse within fragile shell. As in much of women’s gothic literature, Burton saw herself as really two people—a passionate inner self and an outer mask, ‘‘a placid calm expression of contentment on my face.’’ And she lamented ‘‘how dreadful has [providence] been in giving no times of solitude times which the soul may assert itself and the face throw off the mask, and break out and away from conformity and be itself.’’

In this context, Burton equated her authentic self and her sexuality. For Harriet Burton, the only place where her passion could be confessed—with all its inadequacies—was in her diary. ‘‘It seems so ridiculous and sentimental to think of writing in a journal, and I would not for anything have anyone know that I keep one,’’ she wrote. ‘‘But I will confess it to myself it is a sort of comfort to sit and write, although it is only talking to myself, and it is often putting down in black and white the things I most despise myself for.’’

…After a many-paged reverie of unfocused fantasy, Harriet Burton checked herself with her own ‘‘will and good sense’’: ‘‘The wisest thing that I can do is to go and duck my head into cold water, eat something then go downtown where I can see plenty of faces, real ones, then come home study my latin—real latin, then go to bed, a real bed,—to real sleep, get up in the morning eat a real breakfast, go to school make some real recitations, by that time I may be in the realms of reality and common sense!’’”

- Jane H. Hunter, “Writing and Self-Culture: The Contest Over the Meaning of Literacy.” in How Young Ladies Became Girls: The Victorian Origins of American Girlhood

#history #victorian #sexuality #american #gender #jane h. hunter #how young ladies became girls

6 notes · View notes

skullsandwineglasses · 3 years

Text

The Rebel Princess First Impressions (episode 16)

My first drama of 2021 and my first drama in 4 months.

AvenueX’s harsh review piqued my interest, especially when she mentioned the high production quality of the drama and the list of talent that was behind the production of the drama. So I went into this drama knowing nothing about the plot, having high expectations for the production, and no expectations about the characters because of AvenueX’s criticism. I’ve always respected Zhang Ziyi because of her dedication to the art and her legendary filmography, but I wouldn’t call myself a fan. I agreed with AvenueX; ZZY has an aura and elegance that’s meant for mature, cold characters, so I was wary of her playing a Mary Sue who’s innocent and doted upon.

I first saw Zhou Yi Wei when he played Zhao Liying’s classy, composed, protective, and rich older brother in My Glamourous Times. He’s not classically handsome, but there’s a measured confidence in the way he carries himself that exudes masculinity, and that’s also balanced by his more feminine qualities like his quiet, airy voice and his full lips. He also has an intense gaze that feels like he’s looking straight into the soul of whoever he’s speaking to.

I also watched ZZY and ZYW’s collaboration on I Am an Actor, so I knew that the chemistry would be there between them.

Okay, so enough preamble. Spoilers ahead.

First 8 episodes:

I didn’t mind ZZY playing a young teenager. Yes, it does take a bit of getting used to, but kind of like the CGI in The Irishman, but it very soon doesn’t become distracting and you manage to suspend your disbelief. I came in expecting the worse, like an exaggerated caricature, but ZZY actually pulls it off quite well. Since this is a coming-of-age drama, it’s a given that the first few episodes are going to be about a main character who starts off as innocent, naive, and carefree. I’d rather have the main actress portray these young scenes than to have a completely differ actress do this. The first few episodes are meant to anchor you emotionally into the drama and to empathize with the FL. If you introduced ZZY after 8 episodes, you wouldn’t really emotionally connect with her since the trauma that catapults the character into maturity was experienced by the younger actress. So for me, the age was a non-issue. I was concerned that it would be cringey, but it wasn’t. It’s called acting ffs. Why can people play older characters when they’ve never been older, but people can’t play younger characters, even though they were once that age. I forgot how pretty ZZY is though.

Sure, the FL is a Mary Sue, but I didn’t find her annoying. Maybe it’s because ZZY makes it work. Who knows. Essentially, everyone dotes in her, every man has a crush on her. She’s spoiled, she’s kind. She’s perfect. Her lineage is incomparable and powerful (even if a little incestuous). Not to mention a little corrupt as well. I guess she wasn’t annoying because she doesn’t try hard to be righteous. She has a privileged life and she’s just living with what she’s given. She only asks that she is able to have a love marriage instead of an arrange marriage. Typical, but understandable.

My complaint is that I didn’t feel any chemistry between her and Zi Tan, the second prince. Unlike Ming Lan and Yuan Ruo in Story of Ming Lan, Awu’s first love just didn’t capture the imagination. Maybe it’s because ZYW’s Xiao Qi stole the show from early on, which made it hard to jump on board Zi Tan’s ship.

Awu and Xiao only had a handful of interactions, but their chemistry is palpable (ZYW’s gaze is just....ugh swoon). They first meet that night at the festival where she unknowingly insults him and then he saves her and Zi Tan later that night. Then a couple episodes later, he saves her again when she falls off the roof during her escape from the crown prince. They only cross paths briefly 2 times in 4 episodes, and one of those times they weren’t even talking to ech other because she faints, and yet he’s totally taken by her. He’s a goner. But he know she’s out of his league, and so he keeps his feelings to himself, even though he can’t stop thinking about her and stays up at night staring at the moon remembering their 2 encounters. Talk about a slow burn. Insta love shouldn’t work, but again, it does here.

I like Xiao Qi’s character. He doesn’t speak much, he doesn’t emote much, but he’s not the typical cold, distant, irritable ML from idol dramas. Xiao Qi isn’t afraid to love. He’s tender, gentle, composed, and calm. The sexual tension between him and Awu from when he rescued her to when they consummate their marriage is through the roof. He takes on the role of a husband by taking care of her, entrusting her fully with managing his household, puts her above everything else in his life, and always takes her side. He closes the distance between them while still giving her space, respecting her, and waiting until she’s ready. Even though he initially thought of himself ill-suited for her, once they’re married, he slowly wins her over. Episode 13 is obviously my favourite because that’s when Awu finally warms up to him.

Honestly, this relationship only works because of the smitten looks that Xiao Qi gave her that night when they first met at the festival. Those few intrigued/amused looks carry this relationship for 13 episodes. And I love how he brings up that night again when he’s caring for her after he rescued her from Helan Zhen.

Speaking of Helan Zhen, I find it funny how it sounds like Helian Zheng from The Rise of Phoenixes, and it’s played by the same actor too (edit: NOT the same actor. This is Yuan Hong who played Jin Si Yu in TROP, and a more veteran actor than than the one who played Helian Zheng. Should have known that ZZY would pick Justin Hong who has much more acting experience. TBF tho, with the facial hair, they look similar) and has similar costuming.

In terms of the political storyline, it’s not bad, but it’s not great, so I see AvenueX’s criticism here. I haven’t watched too many political intrigues, but so far, nothing has been overly surprising or shocking.

The level of acting and production definitely lives up to expectations, although I have noticed some jumpy cuts. Some of the night scenes in the palace also look kind of CGI though, especially the sky.

General Song is great. The ML always has a loyal sidekick. The FL also always has a loyal maid, and a disloyal maid who betrays her. In this sense, the drama is quite formulaic.

It’s also nice to see Kara Hui and Angie Chiu act opposite each other. Angie Chiu is obviously speaking cantonese, and it looks like Kara Hui also speaks cantonese when she has a scene with Angie Chiu, maybe to help her get immersed into the scene.

Overall Impressions: My basic self is only watching this for the romance, which so far has been slow and minimal (but really good). Xiao Qi is completely absent in episode 16 unfortunately, which is about Awu gaining the respect of his army.

I do think this is a good spot to pause though. There’s no angst yet. Awu and Xiao Qi are at a good place in their relationship, even if they’re temporarily physically separated for now. Emotionally, they trust each other. It’s them against the world.

But I’m worried about the upcoming episodes. Based on comments from MyDramaList, it sounds like there are going to be misunderstandings by around episode 33ish, which I’m not happy about. I was hoping that it would be similar to Ming Lan and Gu Tingye’s relationship dynamic where they trust each other fully and there are no secrets or misunderstandings, and they work together against the antagonistic forces opposing them. But it sounds like the drama is going, to well, stir up drama between the leads.

I powered through 16 episodes in 2 days, and only 41 raw episodes have been released. Which means that I’ll probably catch up within the next few days, and then I’ll have to play the waiting game until the finale at the end of February. So I’ll just take a pause now before things ramp up and I get too attached and maybe watch something else before coming back to binge this.

#the rebel princess #上阳赋 #zhang ziyi #章子怡 #cdrama #cdrama rant #cdrama review #first impressions #周一围

12 notes · View notes

aliciameade · 4 years

Text

To See The Sun With My Eyes Closed

Title: To See The Sun With My Eyes Closed Author: aliciameade Rating: M some hot and heavy kissing Pairing: Beca/Chloe Summary: Beca can't shake one thought from her mind after she meets Chloe. That all she wants is her body on her mattress.

Inspiration via “Mattress” (Valley Girl Remix) feat. Allie X by Leland

(I don’t think I’ve ever written a mid-PP1 fic before??)

Also on AO3

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

I know it's getting close / To when the party ends / And everybody's hooking up And I hate it when you say I'm such a good friend / And that you call me when you're up Why do I always do this to myself / I let you go with someone else When all I want's my body on your mattress / Why do I always do this to myself I let you go with someone else When all I want's my body on your mattress

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

“I’m soooo glad that I met you.” Chloe’s words, laden with alcohol, drift across Beca’s lips. She’s been pulled close—much too close for comfort—by this girl who, for a reason that Beca can’t quite ascertain, convinced her to audition for a lame singing group that she’s now a member of. “I think that we’re going to be really fast friends.”

“Well, you saw me naked, so…” she says with a wink. She’s still not sure what happened last week and why Chloe thought it was okay to burst into Beca’s shower, apparently lured by her voice like a siren. But, it had happened and while utterly mortified at the time, the encounter that remains seared on her brain is not one of embarrassment but intrigue smeared with lust.

After all, Chloe is an extremely attractive woman and the confidence she displayed (very literally) only added to her attractiveness.

They’re so close that she thinks Chloe might kiss her. It makes her heart race to imagine the possibility. She even considers being the one to initiate it. She struggles to keep her eyes off Chloe’s lips and she thinks she just might be bold enough to try it.

But before she musters enough courage, Chloe’s running her hands down Beca’s arms, declaring her need for a drink, slapping her own ass which she shakes at Beca, and is hopping down the stairs of the amphitheater to join her friends at a keg.

The exchange leaves Beca’s heart hammering in her chest just as it had a few days ago in the shower.

She spends the entirety of the event—“aca-initiation party” is a term she overhears more than once—avoiding socialization and nursing the beer that the annoying guy from her radio station internship pressed into her hand during a bout of uncomfortable flirtation. Her eyes (and thoughts) keep drifting to her new acquaintance, Chloe, and the company she was choosing to keep.

Chloe is a social butterfly; Beca isn’t surprised by that observation at all. She seems to flirt with almost everyone she crosses paths with; she’s not surprised by that either, though she’s maybe a touch disappointed that Chloe’s unprompted closeness isn’t unique to Beca.

A tall, handsome man becomes the final recipient of Chloe’s interest for the evening and Beca tries to not let her disdain be too apparent on her face when the pair begin making out a few rows away from her post. She thinks it might be the same guy who’d also joined her (and Chloe) in the shower, but it’s hard to tell.

She tries to ignore it and focus on the other embarrassing things happening at the party, but her eyes are repeatedly drawn to Chloe and the man attached to her face.

She walks back to her dorm as soon as she sees Chloe and her date sneak off, hand-in-hand, in the direction of the dorms.

When she crawls into bed, she can’t shake the singular thought rattling around in her brain: she wishes it was Chloe’s bed she was crawling into.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

A cappella nerds, as it turns out, like to party.

While she’s not convinced they’re not nerds, Beca is, at least, impressed with their propensity for alcohol-fueled fun.

Not that she particularly likes fun. Or fun with these people. Well, maybe there is one specific person she’s okay with.

She finds herself at a party in the backyard of the house belonging to their rival group, the Treblemakers, on a Friday night in early October. It’s already decorated for Halloween despite it being three weeks away and it takes precisely ten minutes for Beca to become irritated by the scream of the motion-activated ghost decoration hanging in a high-traffic area. It has yet to shut up since she arrived and she’s in the middle of devising a plan to kill it when something slams into her from behind, causing her to spill most of her drink onto the grass.

“What the—” She’s about to curse out the drunk who body-slammed her when she recognizes the patterned blouse covering the arms that are wrapped around her waist. “Dude!”

“Whatcha doing?”

Beca hopes the shiver that ripples up her spine at the way Chloe’s words hum past her ear isn’t noticed. She shifts a bit in time to the music to cover it up. It’s not easy to do, given Chloe’s hold on her, and if she hadn’t been busy trying to hide the way her body reacted to Chloe’s sudden embrace, she would have thought about the consequences of doing so.

“Oh, you’re dancing!” Chloe answers for her and she changes her hold on Beca from arms wrapped around her waist to hands on Beca’s hips, though her chin remains resting on Beca’s right shoulder. “Dance with me. You never dance with me.”

“We dance every day,” she says with an irritated sigh, though she starts to relax into their position and allows Chloe to lead from behind. “Aubrey has us in rehearsal three hours a day; or do you try to block it from your memory like me?”

There’s a rumbling, restrained laugh in her ear. “You knew what you were signing up for.”

“Did I, though?” she teases, though no, she didn’t know.

She hears Chloe’s response, a noncommittal hum that makes Beca smile with its unspoken admission of agreement. She finishes what little of her drink remains and tosses the plastic cup to the ever-growing pile on the ground and puts her hands over Chloe’s for a moment before settling into their dance.

Chloe isn’t wrong, Beca realizes. They really haven’t danced with each other, not like this. Not with Chloe’s hands tugging on Beca’s hips as if she’ll drift away and not with Beca’s ass pressing back against Chloe.

Their conversation—spoken, at least—fades in favor of the physical, dancing to the music blasting from giant speakers adorning the back of the house. When the song ends, Beca expects Chloe to move on, to go find a guy to dance with, but instead, she urges Beca to turn around and keep dancing as the playlist mixes into the next track.

Chloe smiles at her when she does it and adds a wink when she drapes her arms over Beca’s shoulders. It prevents too much distance between them and it makes Beca smile in return. This isn’t how Beca would dance with the other Bellas; that would happen in a group, with plenty of space separating her from them, and with attention paid to people outside that group.

This, though. Chloe’s attention is acutely on Beca and Beca’s is on Chloe. There is little distance separating them. When a guy shows up behind Chloe in an attempt to get her to dance, she shifts away from him and further into Beca’s space.

Beca’s mind begins to swim, to slip toward the thoughts she’s guiltily had a few late nights alone in bed. Thoughts of what it would be like to kiss her friend, of what she looks like beneath her clothes (though the sports bras and leggings Chloe often favors do most of the work for Beca), of what she might sound like when she whimpers or moans with pleasure.

“You’re staring.”

Beca blinks quickly and pulls back a few inches. She didn’t realize how close they’d become until she could no longer focus on Chloe’s face. They’re still dancing and her mind races with what to do, how to respond to Chloe’s call-out, a look of curious amusement on her face, when she hears it:

“Becaw!”

She grimaces and feels the moment between them evaporate.

“He likes you,” Chloe whispers with a wink before she extracts herself from Beca and leaves with a wave.

“No, wait—” but she’s already gone, and instead she has—

“Jesse.”

“Becaw!” he repeats again, proud of the unwelcome nickname he’s given her, as he moves into the space Chloe just vacated, a red solo cup in each hand.

Beca takes a noticeable step backward, though, and to his credit, he doesn’t follow and crowd her.

“It’s not enough that we spend nine hours a week together at the station; you always have to find me at these dumb aca-parties, huh?” She frowns as she says it, more at her casual use of “aca-” as a prefix than anything.

“You’re just so charming. How can I resist that face?” He smiles as he says it, pointing out her frown and, Beca thinks, he’s not a terrible person. Not by a long shot. He’s a teddy bear, really, and even a cute one with a good voice, but he just feels...vanilla. Boring. Predictable.

She immediately schools her face into as neutral of a look as she can. “Wish I could say the same.” She glances at the two cups he brought, her own hands feeling very empty with no Chloe to be touching. “Is one of those for me?”

He pulls the cups inward protectively, shooting her a look. “You literally just insulted me.”

“And you interrupted the conversation I was having.”

Something like a conversation, anyway.

“Fine,” he says with a sigh, giving in way too easily and handing a cup to her. It’s a behavior Beca knows all too well; it’s how she ended up knowing the people at this party. “I saw that guy spill your drink.”

She doesn’t comment on the fact that it was at least fifteen minutes ago that that had happened, if not longer. The beer is still cold, though, so it at least he hasn’t been holding it for fifteen-plus minutes waiting to make a move. Or whatever he’s doing. “Thanks.”

“You know, I don’t live in the house yet, because I’m a freshman, but I’m allowed to go inside.” His words are stilted.

She just stares at him.

“They have a hot tub. I mean, we. We have a hot tub. I can use it.”

“Cool,” she says with a nod. She takes another sip from her cup and glances around to find an excuse to exit this conversation.

“I could show you,” he says, pointing toward the house.

She lifts her eyebrows at that; she hadn’t expected him to be quite so bold. “I know what a hot tub looks like.”

The nerves that were already evident in his movements double and his pointing hand jerks back to run through his hair. “No? Yeah, no, of course you know what a hot tub looks like. I was just—”

Her roaming eyes finally spot Chloe, her intended excuse to exit this uncomfortable conversation, but the tall guy from her first aca-party is with her—it’s definitely the same guy that Chloe’d had with her in the shower, they’re close enough that she recognizes him—and with his hand on her waist and leaning down, it’s evident they’re about to kiss.

“Okay,” she says quickly, forcing a smile and her eyes off of that and onto Jesse.

His surprise is obvious, and she doesn’t blame him. She was shooting him down pretty directly “W—wait, really?”

She has to take a long drink of her beer, nearly half of it, to be able to respond. “Yeah, sure. Give me the grand tour.”

“Cool, yeah.” He reminds Beca of a puppy with his thinly veiled excitement. It’s flattering, at least. “Uh, shall we?” He gestures toward the house and takes a step toward her, awkwardly offering his hand like he’s not really offering it, just in case she rejects it.

She accepts it, though, and follows him across the yard and into the Treble house.

She does spare one thought toward Aubrey’s draconian rule about not hooking up with any Treblemaker, but most of her thoughts are on what’s happening between Chloe and Shower Guy behind her and how quickly she can get it out of her thoughts.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

She doesn’t hook up with him.

Not for his not trying.

By her count, Beca clocks him leaning in to try to kiss her three times during the tour of the house, each time happening in an empty bedroom (poor form on his part trying it while showing her the disgusting, smelly rooms belonging to college boys). He even made an attempt at suggesting there was no need for bathing suits to enjoy the hot tub situated oddly in the main room of the house.

She considers the proposition each time, but each time, she turns away or takes a step to put space between them. It just doesn’t feel right, even as a distraction or something out of spite.

She tells him she’s tired and needs rest before tomorrow’s seven-hour rehearsal after the hot tub invitation and to his credit, he doesn’t seem irritated. She knows most guys would have accused her of leading them on by now, and maybe she did at least a little bit. But instead of calling her a bitch or a tease when she glances back before stepping out of the house to go home, he waves at her wearing a dopey smile that makes Beca feel like he was happy just to spend time with her.

Her exit through the front door, so she can walk back to her dorm, doesn’t give her a final look at the party, but it’s still going strong. She doesn’t know if Chloe and Shower Guy are still there or still kissing, and she doesn’t really want to consider the possibility.

Or worse: that they’re not at the party because they went back to someone’s room.

Again.

She walks home alone (though not alone-alone; campus is crawling with students moving between parties and dorms) and is relieved that even Kimmy Jin seems to be out at an event of her own. It’s dark when she walks in and her roommate’s stark, clinically neat side of the room is empty.

“Thank God,” she says as she kicks off her shoes and strips down to her underwear to pull an old T-shirt over her head. She throws her bathrobe on and grabs her things to wash up before crawling into bed where she will definitely not be thinking about who might be in Chloe’s bed or whose bed Chloe might be in, and will definitely not be touching herself imagining it’s her, or her bed.

She hasn’t done that yet, crossed the line of fantasizing, but she’s just drunk, jealous, and irritated enough to do it.

Whatever energy that flowed between Chloe and her while they were dancing is also largely to blame.

So when she walks into the communal bathroom down the hall, she drops her toothpaste because Chloe’s at the sink washing her face.

It feels like the water Chloe’s splashing on her face is actually being dumped on Beca’s head and all her heat and annoyance rinse away to leave her feeling both ashamed and exposed.

Chloe glances her direction at the clatter of the tube of Colgate hitting the tile and then smiles in recognition. “Hey!” She turns off the faucet and reaches for the small towel draped over her shoulder to pat her face dry.

“Hey,” Beca says after clearing her throat while she stoops to grab her toothpaste. “Thought you’d still be at the party.” She hopes her tone is even and not betraying her earlier inappropriate thoughts or coming across as accusatory.

“And I thought you’d be doing the Walk of Shame tomorrow.” Chloe’s wearing a hint of a smirk as she says it and flips her towel back onto her shoulder. “I saw you sneak off into the house with Jesse.”

Beca huffs and walks to the sink next to Chloe’s to set down her things and start her pre-bedtime routine. “He wishes.”

“I bet he does.”

She glances sideways at Chloe to see her leaning against the sink casually, facing Beca. She hides the blush that she feels on her cheeks by ducking down to wash her face.

“You’re really trying to get under Aubrey’s skin, aren’t you?” Chloe continues. “She’s already texting me about it.”

“I’m not trying to do anything,” she says as she scrubs at her face before rinsing it. “And she’s not the boss of me. I can sleep with whoever I want.”

“So you slept with him?” Chloe’s question is spoken so quickly, Beca can barely register the words.

This time, her towel masks her reaction. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“So you slept with Shower Guy?” She tosses her towel onto the back of the sink and waits for an answer.

“Shower Guy?” Chloe’s surprisingly fidgety. “Do you mean Tom?”

“If Tom is the guy you brought naked into my shower, then yes.”

Chloe glances away for a few seconds. “I didn’t sleep with him. I mean, not tonight.”

“Right,” Beca says, busying herself with her toothbrush and toothpaste.

“What do you care?” Chloe’s words are clipped and get Beca’s attention.

“What do you care if I slept with Jesse?” she counters and shoves her toothbrush into her mouth.

Chloe pushes off the sink with a nudge of her hip and drops her arms to her sides. “Who says I care?”

Beca just rolls her eyes. Their conversation is devolving into bickering, though she doesn’t know why. She does know that she wants to stop talking about Chloe sleeping with Tom and Beca sleeping with Jesse. “Good night, Chloe.”

She sees Chloe set her jaw and press her lips into a thin line before nodding. “Good night. See you at rehearsal. 9:00 am, sharp.”

She shoos Chloe away with her free hand in irritation and watches in the mirror as she grabs her personal items and walks out the door, head held high.

Beca’s shoulders slump as soon as Chloe’s gone and she stares at herself in the mirror, wondering what the hell just happened.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

She’s too irritated and confused by the tense words shared with Chloe to follow through with her nighttime plans.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Rehearsal is grueling.

Aubrey is on her ass the moment she walks in not more than two minutes late about her “behavior” at the party. Beca refuses to say she didn’t sleep with Jesse, on pure principle. She owes Aubrey no explanation or information about her sex life.

She doesn’t get kicked out, which is a surprise after what happened to Kori and Mary Elise. Instead, she and the entire group are subjected to an unfairly cruel marathon rehearsal and she’s certain she’s never sweat so much in her life.

“We are a singing group, right?” she manages to snap as she runs past Aubrey. “Why are we training for a decathlon?”

All the comment earns her is five more laps around the rehearsal space.

Chloe seems like her normal self, being everyone’s cheerleader as they work. If she’s still bothered by the exchange she and Beca had the night before, she doesn’t show it, but Beca still makes it a point to catch her when they’re finally dismissed (fifteen minutes later than scheduled).

“That was brutal,” she starts, standing next to Chloe while they pack up their stuff. She only glances her direction briefly; Chloe was in her usual rehearsal garb of a sports bra and leggings, and she had sweat just as much as Beca had. It was highly distracting.

“I tried to warn you.”

Beca doesn’t think Chloe warned her; mostly she implied Beca was irritating Aubrey, not that Aubrey would inflict an entire day of physical torture upon her because she talked to a boy at a party. Instead of saying that, though, she zips her bag, puts it over her shoulder, and turns to face her. She studiously works to keep her eyes on neutral territory. “Wanna walk back to Baker together? Unless you have somewhere you need to be.”

Chloe looks up at her, wisps of curling red hair that escaped her bun with her exertion sticking up all over in a way that is unfairly pretty, and smiles. “Sure. I definitely need a shower.”

“No shit,” Beca says with a laugh, gesturing at herself to not imply that Chloe needs a shower. Chloe is perfect.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Beca’s really not surprised with herself that she’s dumping her gear and grabbing her shower stuff the second she gets back to her room after leaving Chloe at her own. Is she maybe affected by the idea that she and Chloe could possibly be showering at the same time, something that hasn’t [knowingly] occurred since the day they met?

Absolutely not.

To prove it to herself, she sits down and waits ten minutes before walking to the showers, but despite the attempt to wait it out, she hears Chloe’s voice singing a Britney Spears song (a cappella, of course) the moment she opens the door.

She irritatingly can’t help herself from claiming the stall right next to the one she knows Chloe’s in and once she’s settled under the steaming spray, she knocks on the divider between them to interrupt the new song that Beca hates that she knows.

She hears Chloe’s startled yelp and smiles. “Who sings that song?” she asks.

There’s a short laugh a few seconds later. “Taylor Swift, why?”

“Let’s keep it that way.”

There’s a gasp of offense that borders on being a shriek followed by a hard slap of a hand against the metal wall between them. “Beca Mitchell, you take that back!”

Beca laughs and grabs her shampoo. “You know I don’t mean it,” she says after a few more seconds, unable to leave Chloe in the lurch for too long.

“Meanie,” Chloe pouts.

Silence settles between them other than Chloe’s quiet humming and Beca’s nearing the end of her shower when she finally works up the nerve to bring up their tense conversation. “Um, about last night.” Chloe’s humming stops. “I’m sorry if I was weird.”

“‘Weird’ is one way of putting it.”

“This whole college thing is new to me, you know?” It’s a bad excuse, not to mention weak. Bringing up Shower Guy—Tom—had nothing to do with being new to college life and everything to do with...well, she doesn’t let herself think about that.

Chloe’s extended silence makes her think she’s not buying it, but if she doesn’t, she doesn’t push it. “Well, apology accepted. I’m sorry, too.”

“Cool.” She hears Chloe’s shower turn off and realizes she’s been so distracted with their conversation she’s failed to progress past working shampoo into her hair and hurries through the rest of it.

She’s not surprised when she finds Chloe waiting for her, sitting in a bathrobe on the bench where people wait for showers to free up when Beca exits her stall, wrapped in her own fluffy robe. Chloe looks fresh-faced and bright-eyed and Beca’s sure she looks like a drowned rat. It’s unfair, truly.

“What’s up?” Beca says as she tights the belt around her waist.

“Nothing,” Chloe shrugs. “Figured I’d wait for you.” She stands and joins Beca as they walk toward the bathroom exit.

“Doing anything fun tonight?” Beca asks, hoping her question comes across innocuous-enough after last night and their apologies.

“Yeah, I’m going out for a bit. What about you?”

Beca hums. “My roommate went home for the weekend so tonight’s agenda includes a Law & Order: SVU marathon and an entire bag of Doritos.”

They pause outside Chloe’s door. “Cool Ranch or nacho?” Chloe asks; she’s wearing a look of absolute seriousness as if Beca’s answer is of utmost importance and it stikes Beca with irrational fear.

“Uh, nacho?”

Chloe’s face screws into one of offense. “Terrible.”

“Nacho Doritos are not terrible!” Beca says, immediately on the defense of her favorite snack. “How dare you.”

“I only speak the truth,” Chloe says breezily as she reaches for her doorknob. “Enjoy your gross chips.”

“Yeah, well, enjoy your...night!” Beca’s comeback fails miserably and she can tell Chloe’s holding back laughter as she disappears into her room. “Whatever,” she grumbles to herself before turning to stalk down the hallway, mad about Chloe insulting her chips.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Beca’s on her third episode of SVU when there’s a knock on her door. She groans and slides off her bed, not in the mood for some kind of prank the other students on her floor find hilarious.

“What?” she barks as she swings it open, ready to berate immaturity only to be met with surprised, wide eyes. “Oh, hey. Sorry.”

“What was that for?” Chloe asks, still looking a bit shell-shocked.

“I thought it was the ding-dong-ditchers,” she says, knowing Chloe’s been a victim of it just as much as she has. “I thought you were going out tonight?”

Chloe shrugs and holds up the blue bag of Cool Ranch Doritos she’d been hiding behind her back. “It was going to be lame.”

Beca laughs and steps aside to let her into her room. “I can’t promise you that this will be any less lame.”

“I’m willing to take my chances.” Chloe winks as she says it and strolls into Beca’s room.

She’s never been there before, never past the door, and Beca can tell she’s trying to disguise the fact that she’s checking out her room which makes a smile tug at Beca’s lips. She’s climbing on to Beca’s bed moments later to get comfortable, right in the spot Beca had been occupying because it was the most comfortable.

“Make yourself at home,” she says as she closes the door. “Want anything to drink?”

“I’ll take a beer.”

“I’m 19; I can’t keep beer in my room.” She opens her mini-fridge to survey its meager contents. “Gotta keep my nose clean this year so I can get out of here and move to LA,” she explains. “I have Coke, Dr. Pepper, and water.”

“Sometimes I forget you’re a freshman. Dr. Pepper, please.”

Beca grabs two cans of soda and joins Chloe on the bed, having to rearrange bags of chips, blankets, and pillows so they can both sit comfortably.

They settle into their viewing party after that, quiet save for the TV and the periodic crunch of chips with an occasional debate about who the criminal is or isn’t.

It’s hard for Beca to ignore their physical closeness. There’s only so much room on her small twin-sized bed and though their marathon began with a good bit of space between them, Chloe has worked her way closer with each suspenseful, violent, or upsetting moment. It began with her grabbing Beca’s forearm at an unexpected twist. A tense hostage negotiation had her gripping Beca’s thigh for dear life (she’s not sure she won’t have bruises tomorrow). And, most recently, an unexpected gunshot made Chloe leap into Beca’s side to hide her face in Beca’s shoulder and beg to be told when it was over.

Chloe hadn’t moved back into her own spot after that. She’d stayed, her arm wrapped up with Beca’s and her head on her shoulder once Beca reassured her the gory part was over.

It’s hard to ignore the way Chloe’s knee is hiked up a little, just enough so it can rest atop Beca’s with the way she’s curled into Beca’s side.

The closeness makes Beca’s heart race and she has to focus hard on the television screen in order to keep her breathing steady. It had been somewhat easy to ignore her crush on the woman to-date; their time together has, by and large, been spent with others: the Bellas, aca-nerds at parties, other students walking around campus. Rarely are they alone and secluded; not even in their moments in the communal showers.

The moment she lets the concept that they are, by the very definition, cuddling in her bed into her psyche she has to close her eyes and think about literally anything else. Sports. The Real Housewives. Her parents’ divorce.

She keeps them closed until she feels Chloe leaning against her more heavily, her breathing deep and even and Beca looks down to see Chloe’s fallen asleep.

It’s oddly calming even if it makes her heart pick up even more. She looks like an angel, long eyelashes resting against her cheeks, soft pink lips slightly parted, but most lovely of all is the way her hand is open, fingers slightly curved in a way that’s so inviting that Beca can’t resist fitting her own between them.

Chloe stirs at the touch though it’s little more than a brief squeeze of Beca’s hand and a shift of her head and then she’s once again still.

Beca’s at a loss as to what to do so she sits quietly, letting the television episode roll into the next though paying no attention to it. Chloe is warm against her and her slow, rhythmic breathing is so comforting that eventually, Beca’s nerves settle and she finds her own eyes growing heavy.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

She’s disoriented when she wakes. Her room isn’t dark; a rerun of Everybody Loves Raymond is on the TV and it feels far too loud. She’s lying down and when she shifts, she’s met with resistance that for the briefest of moments strikes her with panic.

That is, until she discovers the resistance is caused by the arm draped over her waist and its owner who’s pressed closely against Beca’s back.

Then it’s panic of a different kind. The kind that makes her freeze and not move another muscle lest she wakes Chloe and bring to an end the embrace they somehow slipped into in their sleep.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

When she wakes again it’s early morning and though the arm is gone from her waist, she can feel it pressing against her back. The TV is dark but she doesn’t remember turning it off. She longs to drag the morning out as much as she can but she can’t ignore the need to use the restroom.

She eases away as slowly as she can until she’s standing and she can turn around to see Chloe, sound asleep in her bed.

She sneaks out the door and is quick to return, only sparing a few extra seconds to deal with her disheveled morning appearance and rinse with a cup of mouthwash from the courtesy bottle.

To her relief, Chloe’s still there when she returns, but her sleepy eyes are open. “Morning,” she says as soon as Beca’s eyes land on her.

“Hey, good morning,” she replies and starts to cross the room and then stops when she realizes Chloe’s not making a move to get up and crawling back into bed with her, especially at this early hour, feels so very intimate. “Guess we fell asleep.”

Chloe nods and then she’s yawning, her body growing taut as she stretches and Beca can’t help but glance at how Chloe’s shirt rides up a few inches with the movement. “Come back to bed,” she says at the end of her yawn, voice squeaking in a way Beca wishes she didn’t find so cute.

It feels too casual, too normal for Chloe to say those words for how new their friendship is, to scoot backward to make more room for Beca in her small bed to further extend her invitation.

It’s that sensation of normalcy that gets her moving until she’s settling on her side, her back to Chloe again as they both get comfortable on the pillow they’re sharing.

“You’re all minty,” Chloe says after a minute or two, followed by a pinch to Beca’s side, right in the tender part, that makes her jump.

“Morning breath,” she says after swallowing.

Fingertips scrabble up her back. “Thinking about kissing me awake?”

Beca’s entire self feels like it ignites, heat rushing through her in a full-body blush. She just wasn’t wanting to make a bad first-morning impression. Such a thought hadn’t even entered her mind at the time, but it’s now the only thing she can think about.

She scoffs when she realizes she’s taking too long to reply. “What? Dude, no.”

There’s a quiet hum behind her and Chloe’s arm settles over her once again. Beca’s awake for it this time and the feeling of Chloe reaching to pull her close, intentionally holding her while they lay in bed together following that question, makes butterflies stir in her chest.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Beca doesn’t understand why there are so many a cappella parties. She’d thought that after the winter break, the four groups would buckle down—whatever that means in a cappella terms—to focus on the impending semifinals, but no. It seems that as the stress of competition (not that she’s stressed about their dumb competition) increases, so does the need to release that stress.

To Beca, they’re an excuse to get free beer and hang out with Chloe in a safe (read: public), non-rehearsal environment.

By now, they’ve established a sort of routine at these parties. They arrive together. They part ways. One saves the other from an undesirable conversation when prompted with little more than a glance. They spend the rest of the night together, whether dancing, drinking, socializing, or once, swimming, until something brings the night to a close and they walk back to their dorm together.

Beca had taken notice as the weeks and months passed, that Chloe disappearing with Tom was occurring less and less frequently. It was a relief on multiple levels; not just because it meant Chloe wasn’t spending the night with Tom, but also because she wouldn’t have to spend time talking to Jesse until she found an excuse to leave. The boy had a special talent for finding Beca unaccompanied.

But above all, it meant that Beca and Chloe were spending the majority of their time together, whether rehearsing or not. And over the course of all those weeks, Beca’s noticed their dynamic changing, not by leaps and bounds daily but by tiny movements. Tiny movements that have added up to leaps and bounds, from Beca recoiling in horror the first time they met to Beca dropping everything to help, talk to, or otherwise spend time with Chloe.

And she’s noticed Chloe is quick to do just the same.

It’s confusing. She’s never connected with anyone so strongly before, and she continually finds herself wondering if what she feels is the kindred spirit of a best friend or if she wants something more.

Correction: she knows she wants Chloe; she doesn’t want to confess such a thing and lose a best friend. Not that she knows how to confess feelings anyway. She hates feelings. They’re gross. They make her feel vulnerable and weak.

Chloe makes her feel vulnerable, too. But it’s different. She maybe even feels strength in that vulnerability.

She just needs Chloe to make the first move if someone’s going to make one.

Beca thinks she’s given her ample opportunities to-date but nothing’s happened yet. It’s with that in mind that she resolves, at the pre-Spring Break bash, to open the metaphorical door so wide that if Chloe doesn’t cross its threshold, Beca will close it once and for all.

She’s terrified from the moment she makes the decision until she and Chloe are drinking shots of tequila in unison and everything melts away until the only thing that matters is simply being in Chloe’s orbit.

Beca pulls Chloe by her hand onto the trampled grass of the Trebles’ backyard to dance, an action she knows thrills Chloe who always tells Beca how much she likes dancing with her. The liquid courage spurs Beca to pull Chloe close before they’ve even settled into the song.

“You’re in a mood,” Chloe says, the corner of her mouth turning upward.

Beca rests her arms around Chloe’s shoulders and makes eye contact with her. “You could say that.”

She sees Chloe arch an eyebrow but instead of pressing the matter, Chloe just falls into step and runs a hand through her hair in an unfairly sexy manner.

Beca considers the fact that what she’s doing could be considered throwing herself at Chloe, that is, if she didn��t hold on to that one last thread. Like letting her hands wander up and down Chloe’s back, but never below her waist. Like slipping her knee between Chloe’s thighs but not actually doing anything because, at face value, it just makes dancing close easier. Like having an extra button on her shirt undone and wearing her best bra that gives her amazing but natural-looking cleavage and her most flattering jeans.

It only takes a few seconds for Chloe’s hands to land where they always do: on Beca’s waist.

Dancing with Chloe has come to be second nature to Beca, and she’s pretty sure Chloe would agree. She knows it helps that they work on actual choreography all the time for the Bellas, but they don’t choreograph the way they dance together at parties or in clubs. It feels like they have, though; it doesn’t require any conscious thought to know how Chloe is going to move and when. Beca doesn’t have to think about stepping to her left when Chloe is stepping to her right.

It’s a cool evening but Beca’s warm. She’s warm from moving, warm from the way Chloe’s hands travel between her waist and her ribs, warm from the way Chloe’s eyes are on hers to stare with such intensity, she’s actually afraid to look away from them.

She’s warm from how close they are right now. She doesn’t know how many songs have passed, only that they’re so close and so aligned that she can feel Chloe’s thigh between her own, bumping her leg as they move which only makes her grow even warmer.

Chloe’s eyes slip for the quickest moment from Beca’s and she thinks maybe she glanced at her lips, or maybe even her cleavage. It was too quick to know and Beca doesn’t let on that she noticed. If Chloe wants to look, she wants her to look. She’s been inviting her to look all night. She does wet her lips after a few seconds; it’s a subconscious response but she’s aware of it happening and she catches Chloe’s gaze drift again.

It’s difficult to be sure as Chloe’s amazingly long eyelashes are great at concealing where she’s looking when her eyes are cast down, so, running on instinct and adrenaline, Beca lets her teeth catch her bottom lip, just for a second or two.

Chloe’s eyes snap back to hers immediately and then she’s mirroring Beca, teeth pulling at her own bottom lip until it slips free and her tongue swipes over it.

Beca can’t keep her eyes off Chloe’s lips after that; she tries, glancing up now and then but Chloe’s eyes are no longer her focus. Chloe’s lips hold that now and she’s acutely aware and uncaring if Chloe notices. Maybe she wants her to notice.

She definitely wants her to notice.

She knows Chloe notices when she sees her teeth pull at her lip again the same moment her hands tighten around Beca’s waist.

They’re still dancing, but it’s an afterthought. There’s noise around them, and people, but it all sounds miles away. Her arms shift where they’ve been resting over Chloe’s shoulders; they push forward to loop around her neck. It also brings them even closer together.

Chloe’s head tilts, just a fraction, just enough for Beca to catch it. A tilt to the left. A slight lift of her chin. Enough to make Beca’s pulse start to race.

She mirrors the change and she sees Chloe’s lips twitch into the hint of a smile. It makes Beca’s hands unlock from holding her own wrists behind Chloe’s neck to push them into her hair. Chloe’s eyes flutter closed at the touch and after a few seconds of admiration, so do Beca’s.

“What are we doing?” Chloe says, little more than a mumble as Beca feels the heat of fingertips under the edge of her shirt, pressing into the bare skin of her lower back.

“Um…” Beca’s not sure she can answer that; their lips are so close that she felt the words.

“Bec?”

“Hmm?” She’s waiting for it, for the soft warmth of Chloe’s lips to follow the heat of her words when she senses Chloe pull back. Beca’s eyes flutter open to find Chloe watching her intently. It’s only then that she realizes they’ve stopped dancing.

When Chloe takes a step backward Beca feels the hot sting of rejection but Chloe’s hand catches hers before she’s out of reach and she has no choice but to follow. She doesn’t know where Chloe’s leading them; frankly, she doesn’t really care. She feels intoxicated but the tequila is long burned out of her system. This is something different, something that’s making her dizzy but not sick.

They’re walking along the hedge that runs next to the house when Chloe halts abruptly, causing Beca to stop just short of running into her. When Chloe turns, Beca expects her to say something, to explain why they’ve left the party, to repeat her question to Beca.

Instead, Chloe’s free hand plants itself in the center of Beca’s chest, against the bare skin of her boldly unbuttoned shirt, and pushes, making her stumble backward until her back hits the side of the house.

“Oh, my God,” escapes her mouth before she realizes the words could mean the action was unwelcome when it’s the exact opposite. She can’t figure out what words to use to clarify her outburst so instead, she squeezes the hand Chloe’s still holding and gives it a tug. If pulling Chloe closer now, here, after everything isn’t clear enough, then they’re both hopeless.

She pulls Chloe in until she’s so close, their chests grazing when either of them inhale and grabs Chloe’s hip with her free hand to keep her there. Even in the dark away from the lights of the party, she can see the color in Chloe’s cheeks, can see how heavy her eyes seem and Beca’s sure she must appear much the same. Her heart feels like it might pound right out of her body. She wonders if Chloe can hear it, or even feel it against her own chest.

Those dark eyes are on her own, their conversation unspoken and Beca knows Chloe finally understands what she’s been trying to make clear all night. Maybe what she’s been trying—with less conviction or confidence than tonight—to make clear for months.

The hand that had pushed her up against the house shifts down for the briefest of moments, the heel of Chloe’s hand dipping into the beginning of the valley between her breasts to make Beca’s breath catch before it moves north, fingertips dancing along Beca’s throat until they’re on the back of her neck, sneaking up into her hair.

She whimpers. Or she thinks she does; maybe it was Chloe. It could have been; her lips are parted when Beca glances down at them.

That’s when it happens.

Chloe surges forward, her lips finding Beca’s.

Beca knows for certain it’s herself she hears whimper then. The desperate force actually knocks her head back against the side of the house but there’s no pain. Nothing hurts now. Not as Chloe’s lips move against her own in a kiss Beca’s been waiting for since the day they met.

She shakes her hand loose from Chloe’s so she can use it, so she can bring it up to frame Chloe’s face. The knowledge that Chloe has wanted this—or at least wants it now—emboldens her to find a better angle and let her tongue brush Chloe’s bottom lip.

Chloe invites her in immediately and Beca shivers when Chloe’s tongue meets hers. Fingers slide further into her hair and Beca does the same, pushing through soft cinnamon curls as their kiss grows in intensity.

Chloe’s hips press against her and it makes her shift her stance so their legs fit together like when they dance. Her fingers pull at Chloe’s waist as if she could possibly get any closer until, on sheer instinct, her hand slides down over the curve of Chloe’s ass to grab it unabashedly and pull just as she bends her knee to lift and press her thigh against Chloe.

A sharp gasp breaks the relative silence as Chloe’s mouth twists away from Beca’s. Their eyes meet and for a moment, Beca thinks she may have done something wrong until Chloe’s fingers twist so harshly into Beca’s hair that she winces as Chloe pulls her head to the side. It exposes more of her neck and Beca lets her eyes close again as Chloe’s mouth drops to it. Lips and tongue and gentle teeth move along her skin and Beca can hear herself breathing, quick and shallow breaths that match Chloe’s as Chloe accepts the rhythm of Beca’s hand against her. The thought that Chloe likes it, is basically riding her thigh, makes her already damp underwear soak through. It makes her hips move, too, and Chloe’s leg isn’t nestled closely enough to give her anything but the barest of contact.

It’s maddening but she doesn’t want to do anything that will take away the pleasure she knows she’s giving Chloe. Instead, the hand not tangled in her hair doing little more than cradling her head as she attacks Beca’s neck travels up Chloe’s side until she feels the band of a bra through the fabric of her shirt. It’s too tempting and too easy to follow it until the backs of her fingers are grazing the edge of a curve. She hesitates there, soaking in the warmth she feels and letting a moan escape her lips when Chloe’s tongue is particularly gentle and teasing against her skin.

“Touch me.” The words are whispered but they ring in Beca’s ears loudly. Chloe’s hand finds Beca’s where it’s hesitating and guides it higher until it’s pressing Beca’s hand against her breast.

This time, it’s Chloe who moans but Beca echoes it. She wonders just how far this is going to go here, now, out in the open as Chloe’s mouth is on hers again. It’s more a curiosity than a concern; she really doesn’t care who sees them. But as the palm of her hand feels the stiff peak of Chloe’s breast, she has a desperate need to migrate elsewhere. It’s a need that grows exponentially when Chloe, with none of the hesitation Beca had shown, finds Beca’s left breast to squeeze it with urgency. Most of her fingertips are on bare skin where Beca’s shirt has shifted; heat follows everywhere her those fingertips go, from the swell of Beca’s breast to her throat, to the valley of her cleavage and to her other breast.

Chloe’s mouth leaves hers again and moves right to her ear, lips on her earlobe and tongue tracing the shell and over the piercings. “God, you’re so hot,” she breathes just as she presses her thigh forward against Beca.

So desperate for the contact, it almost makes Beca’s knees buckle which settles her more heavily astride Chloe, leg pressing the thick seam of Beca’s jeans against her in a way that makes her hips buck.

Chloe’s assault of her senses stops abruptly; she doesn’t pull back, she just...stops and it takes Beca several seconds until she can open her eyes.

Once she can focus, she sees that Chloe is staring at her, eyes wild, hair mussed, lips a dark pink and shining in the dim lighting.

“Are you okay?” Chloe asks, eyes searching Beca’s for something.

The question confuses her; why wouldn’t she be okay? “Yeah,” she says after swallowing. “Are you?” she adds, enough clarity seeping in to register Chloe’s checking on her and maybe she should do the same.

Chloe nods and leans in to kiss her again but this time it’s slow, and soft, and gentle and she pulls back too soon for Beca’s liking, but she forgives her quickly.

“Do you maybe want to go?” are Chloe’s next words and Beca feels dizzy again. Thankfully, Chloe still has her pinned against the house to keep her upright.

“Go where?” she asks; she wants Chloe to mean what she hopes she means and that she’s not suggesting they go back to the party.

Chloe’s hands are back on her waist, warm where they rest beneath Beca’s shirt. “Is your roommate home?” Chloe asks.

Beca feels the back of her head connect with the house again, falling back to look down her nose at Chloe who’s waiting for her answer with as much anticipation as Beca feels. “I don’t know,” she says after searching her memory for any conversation that she may have had about her roommate’s plans tonight and finding nothing. “Is yours?”

“I don’t know,” Chloe answers, a whine entering her voice and the fact that Chloe is perhaps as desperate as she is rattles Beca. Her mind races, thinking of possibilities like the bedrooms in the Trebles’ house (gross), staying where they are (uncomfortable and not private), or going to Chloe’s car in the dorm parking lot.

It’s not the worst solution, all things considered.

“Okay,” she says, still working on catching her breath. “Okay, let’s just go see if they’re home or not.”

Her suggestion makes Chloe melt into her for another long, deep kiss until they’re detangling from each other. Beca has to tug at the legs of her jeans to bring them down from where they’ve ridden up and she watches Chloe do the same. It makes her crack up for some reason and Chloe’s quick to follow, both of them dissolving into fits of giggles of nervous excitement.

They start walking back toward Baker Hall, Beca’s arm around Chloe’s waist, and Beca notices Chloe tugging her phone out of her pocket and open up a new text.

“Why don’t you text Kimmy Jin and ask if she’s there,” Chloe says when she notices Beca’s curiosity.

“I don’t have her number.”

Chloe tsks at her and shoots off a text to, Beca assumes, her roommate.

A minute or two pass in silence until it becomes too heavy between them and Chloe breaks it. “Nothing has to happen, you know.”

Beca turns her head to look at her, though Chloe’s facing forward. Why Chloe thinks Beca might feel like she’s being pressured into something is beyond her, especially since Beca was the one laying the physical flirtation on thick all night. “I’m here, aren’t I?” she says, as if it should be obvious.

“I know,” Chloe says. Beca notices they’re only a few blocks from their dorm and her anticipation starts to grow again. “But we’ve been drinking.”

That’s a fair consideration. People do things they regret when they’ve been drinking, things they would never do sober. And that could be true, except that in Beca’s case, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

It’s Chloe’s turn to look over, and she’s wearing a bit of a smirk. “You have?”

Beca shrugs and tucks her fingertips into the front pocket of Chloe’s jeans, as though she’s making a point, though the prospect of having to talk about it in detail makes her self-conscious. “Shut up.”

“Beca.” Chloe’s voice is teasing and slow, like syrup.

“Don’t,” she says with a groan because she knows Chloe’s gearing up to tease her. “Can we just...can you just accept it and let it go?”

“Oh, I’ll happily accept it,” Chloe says with a proud toss of her hair. Then she’s rounding on Beca to stop right in front of her. ��But I’m not going to let it go,” she finishes as she leans in to kiss her and Beca meets her halfway.

Beca pulls back when things are edging toward too hot and heavy for the sidewalk. “C’mon, let’s go.” She takes Chloe’s hand and leads for a few steps before catches up. “Did your roommate text you back?”

Chloe checks her phone while Beca opens the door to the lobby to let her pass first. Chloe makes a sound of excitement, a borderline squeal, and her pace picks up considerably as they stride toward the elevator. “She’s spending the night at her boyfriend’s.”

“Oh, thank God,” Beca exhales and follows Chloe into the elevator where she punches the button for their floor before turning right into the kiss she knows Chloe’s anticipating. “Mine’s probably home,” she says between kisses.

“We’d have found a place,” Chloe says, breath already quickening as their kisses grow in urgency.

“Thought about your car,” Beca says as her hands find Chloe’s ass again to tug her closer.

Chloe hums and then says, “I thought about the shower.”

Beca had somehow overlooked that particular option but the possibility, the very concept of it, moves through her like fire. “Fuck,” she says before kissing Chloe harder.

“Mmm, noted,” Chloe says with an evil smirk as she pulls away, grabbing Beca’s hand to yank her out of the elevator and down the hall toward Chloe’s room. “But I want you in my bed first.”

The End

#bechloe #bechloe fic #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #fanfic

173 notes · View notes