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titan-fodder · 2 years

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Deflowered Part Three

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Rating: E (explicit)

Pairing: Zeke Jaeger x Reader

Count: 10.2k

Warnings: attempted coercion, drugs use (weed, mentioned shrooms and coke), trauma talk (death of parents), reader’s backstory, subtle manipulation, rough sex, vulnerability, zeke knowing better

A/N: you can tell i wrote this before i knew how much i hated floch, otherwise he would be the fuckboy, just so everyone is aware. i actually really like ian in the series lmao.

So, you have a crush on Zeke.

It comes as an annoying revelation, but it's the truth, and you know it's the truth because you can't stop thinking about him. He's in your head all the time, the events and short conversations from a week ago replaying like a slideshow.

You know you shouldn't fall, shouldn't let yourself get in too deep since this can only end badly. Because of that, you turn down any offer to hang out at the Jaeger Bros. household. The mere thought of going over there, of seeing Zeke even in passing, makes your stomach ache in an uncomfortable yet satisfying way.

Even without coming in contact with him, though, it's impossible to ignore Zeke, not with the way your phone has been lighting up with his contact every few hours. It's your own fault. He texted you asking how you liked the playlist a few days ago, and you responded, prompting him to ask a few questions, prompting a conversation. One that won't die (not that you truly want it to).

Z🙊, 4:17PM The dude is kind of a dick, but he's a musical genius so whatever Anyway, what are you up to?

You gnaw on your lower lip, thumbs poised over your keyboard as you contemplate how this might go. Your friends, brother included, are at Eren's, but you're not, and you're sure that if Zeke is there, he's noticed.

Honesty is the best policy, and while you don’t tell him you're purposely putting distance between the two of you, you at least tell him what you've chosen over him.

You, 4:19PM homework unfortunately 😖 AP physics was not a good idea.

It really wasn't, and the fact that you're a year older than most of the seniors only adds insult to injury, makes you feel stupid that these concepts aren't clicking, but you'll be damned before you drop to the regular course. The only way to get a decent scholarship is to show off. It's your last option at this point.

Another reason to not get distracted.

Z🙊, 4:22PM Send me a pic

Your eyebrows raise, gut stirring with anticipation.

You, 4:22PM Uh… of what??

Z🙊, 4:23PM Your homework obviously

Letting out a thin breath, you nod to yourself. Obviously. What else could he have been asking for?

You stare at the textbook on your lap, your paper covered in marks from an abused eraser, then move your phone over it to take a picture, editing it to highlight what’s important.

You, 4:25PM Good luck Attachment: 1 image

Z🙊, 4:27PM I’m literally in grad school for the subject. I think I can handle it, babe. One sec

Your belly feels like it’s suddenly full of bugs, and it’s hard to tell if it’s because Zeke just gave you a little taste of his personal life, or if it’s because said little taste solidifies the fact that he’s extremely intelligent. Even with the condescension, you can’t help but feel hot, skin prickling as you wait.

Z🙊, 4:30PM Alright I can call and walk you through it

The thought that you didn’t actually ask for his help runs through your frazzled brain, but it’s quickly followed by the reminder that you’ve been staring at this specific problem for almost an hour.

Zeke figured it out in three minutes.

You text back ‘okay’, take a few deep breaths and flip to a new page in your notebook. When your phone lights up again, however, it’s with a FaceTime call, and your heart is suddenly in your throat. Hearing his voice is one thing, but seeing him on screen is an entirely different matter.

Swearing, you smooth down your hair as best you can, very aware of your bare face and cami-clad torso. You slide your thumb over the call to open it, and there he is.

“Hey,” he nods, gracing you with a half smile.

The week’s progress of not seeing him goes down the drain in a nanosecond.

Shaggy hair is a little messy, falling over his forehead, curling around his ears so that you can barely see the tips of his AirPods. He’s shaved since you last saw him, thick, blond stubble just a shadow of the beard you’re used to. And, he’s shirtless. You can see his bare shoulders and collarbone, know what he looks like further down, and fuck, you’re already blushing.

“Uh, hi.”

His eyes are somehow just as disconcerting through the screen, lit up by it and glowing pale blue. Zeke stares at you for a moment, mouth curving upward more and more until he finally chuckles and shakes his head.

“Okay, so what you’re gonna do—...”

A relieved sigh escapes you, happy to get straight down to business.

Because your problem isn't that you don't want to talk to him; it's that you do want to. To flirt with him. To get to know him. You want it badly. It makes your palms sweat and neck tingle. Makes you bite your lip and shift your hips. It makes you desperate.

But you push it all away, hold your phone with one hand while writing with the other. Your gaze flicks from your paper to the screen, listening closely as Zeke explains the steps, and you’re impressed with how he can break it down into smaller components when this is probably baby stuff to him. Most people hit a certain level of education in a subject and lose their ability to simplify it, too used to more complicated work so they forget the basics.

Zeke is patient, though, pausing and backtracking when you shake your head, asking, “Where did I lose you?” every time and picking up from that point.

He does this for the remaining seven problems you have, and you knock out homework that likely would have taken you all night in about half an hour. Still, you imagine Zeke had to have had more interesting things he could have busied himself with.

When you ask him, though, walking with your phone to the corner of your room where your backpack is, he just makes a non-committal noise and tells you, “Eren is here with his friends, and I’m trying to avoid going downstairs.”

His friends, your friends, they’re all the same, and you get that bubbling sensation in your gut when you think about the fact that all of them are over there, where you could be, but you’re at home, talking with Zeke on the phone.

Nobody knows. It’s something you constantly ruminate on. Whatever this is you have with him, no one else is aware of it. It’s just between the two of you, and that alone adds another thick layer of tension to the current conversation.

“I mean, I know you have a TV in your room—”

“Nothing worth watching.”

“And a giant bookshelf—”

“Not interested.”

You plop back onto your mattress, sticking your feet under the sheets and getting comfortable only to tense when Zeke speaks up again.

“The real question is why you aren’t over here.” Your grip tightens on your phone, and you look away from the screen, tugging your bottom lip into your mouth without an answer for him. “I’ve seen you bring homework over before, so what changed?”

“I just,” you swallow, try to wet your uncomfortably dry mouth before managing out, “I knew I was gonna have a shitty time with this assignment and didn’t really want your brother and Jean screaming at a screen making it even shittier.”

Zeke hums, and when you meet his stare again, you can tell that he has something else he wants to say, probably the same thought you’re having: you could have always just brought it up to his room.

But, you also know the argument to that: you wouldn’t have actually gotten anything done, too busy admiring or kissing or fucking Zeke to care about any amount of schoolwork.

And, he seems to realize this because he snickers and lowers his head, his face hidden for a moment as light hair hangs over his glasses.

When he looks back up, his expression is softer, and he agrees with a short, “That’s fair. They’ve been especially fucking rowdy tonight, so I can’t blame you.”

Good, good.

“Was just worried you were nervous or something.”

Shit.

You hide your cringe but feel your face heat horribly, don’t even know how to respond to that, but thankfully you don’t have to as the front door to the apartment slams, the familiar sounds of Ymir coming home and routinely shedding everything on her person sending a panicked buzz through your system.

“Definitely not nervous,” you breathe, forcing a smile, then tilt your head and tell him, “Hey, my cousin just got home with dinner, so I’m gonna eat, but thank you for helping me tonight.” You can at least sound genuine about this. “I really appreciate it, Zeke.”

He waves a hand as if he were actually right in front of you, casually shrugging, “Anytime. Have a good night.”

“You too.”

The breath you suck in once the call is ended is monumental, your chest expanding more than it has in the last forty-five minutes, and you toss your phone to the foot of the bed and lay against your pillows, blinking up at your ceiling.

You can already smell fried chicken wafting through the apartment, no doubt picked up on Ymir’s drive home, but all it does is nauseate you, your stomach in knots, any sign of appetite completely gone.

This is getting out of hand. It has been since the first night. Your entire being—body, mind, and soul—feels lit on fire, like you need to scream or cry or come (not helpful).

But, there’s also this deadly calm right at your core, a smooth numbness that’s sometimes able to convince you everything will be okay, just ride it out. It’s that energy that you fall into when you’re around Zeke, like it thrives off his charm and wraps you up inside of it.

Zeke isn’t here, though, and you are alone with your thoughts, groan when your phone vibrates because that pit in your stomach only grows.

You could just ignore it. You are “eating dinner” after all. Naturally your curiosity quickly wins out, making you sit up and reach for your phone.

The name you look down at isn’t the one you’re expecting, though. It doesn’t inspire the same fluttery feeling in your stomach (and pussy) which is strange because just a couple weeks ago, you had been in the throes of puppy-like infatuation.

Ian 💞, 5:18PM hey you wanna come over tomorrow? feel like i havent seen you in a long time

Your response is instant: yeah, what time?

Because maybe… Maybe you can ground yourself with this much safer option, this nice, younger college boy who obviously likes you, who you liked a lot but simply forgot about.

It’s cruel, really. Ian deserves a fighting chance.

And, so do you.

Ian lives in the dorms at the college downtown. You get there at around seven in the evening, smile when you see the boy who is

supposed

to be your crush, suddenly reminded why. Tall and thin, Ian is cute with his high cheekbones and boyish smile. He’s still growing into himself, obviously has a few years on the boys you go to school with but lacks that easy confidence Z—

No.

He invites you in, stepping to the side and waiting to close the door. There are two beds in the cramped space, but before you can ask, he tells you, “Roommate’s back home for a few days. Family stuff.”

You nod, glance around to take in the messy desks, the posters on the walls, the pile of clothes sticking out of a half-open closet. It’s all very…

Underwhelming.

It’s an odd experience, knowing that you should be nervous but aren’t. You can almost feel the empty cavity of your abdomen where those butterflies should be, their flapping wings nowhere to be found. Ian probably has plans for today, the two of you alone in his room for however long, and you’ve prepared accordingly because it’s what you’ve wanted all along, right? You wanted to impress him. You wanted to be good for him. That’s why you did what you did in the first place.

Breathing in deeply, you smile, “So, what d’you wanna do?”

Ian scratches the back of his head, shrugs his shoulders. “I was thinking maybe just watch something—catch up on things, you know?”

“Okay.”

You toe off your shoes, follow him when he steps over to his bed after grabbing a console controller from the TV stand. There isn’t much space on the twin mattress, but Ian leans against the wall, making as much room for you as he can. Still, it’s impossible not to be pressed hip to hip, and you already know in what direction you’re headed, how the two of you will end up before the evening is over.

“So, I have Netflix… Hulu…” You watch as he toggles through the options, having no real opinion of your own. “I’ve just been making my way through the Fast and Furious movies—”

“That’s fine. You can choose one of those.”

He does, reaching over you to set his controller on the nightstand on your other side. As he pulls back, you look closely at him, young and fresh-faced, and something in your stomach drops.

“I’m glad you invited me over,” you tell him.

“I’m glad you came.”

He gets a little more comfortable, makes a dramatic show of putting his arm around your shoulders and tugging you closer, and you giggle for him, willing away the tension in your body.

This isn’t new. You and Ian have cuddled before, have shared kisses. You’ve been ‘talking’ for over a month now, though you’re surprised he didn’t just drop you entirely considering your recent radio silence.

You met through mutual friends—Eren knows Petra who knows Rico who knows Ian. A party here, a chance run-in there, and now, here you are.

The movie holds little interest to you, fast cars and too much testosterone for you to be able to appreciate, so you spend about half of it mapping out what your next move should be. Should you make the first one? Would he appreciate you taking the lead? Are you qualified for it?

“Like this?”

“Yeah, just like that… Fuck, so good. You’re being so good for me…”

Heat travels down your spine, spreading to your hips, your center, and yes—yes, you can do this. You have the experience now.

You scoot impossibly closer, rest your head against Ian’s shoulder and hum when he turns to place a chaste kiss at your hairline. Smiling, you try to take him in, his smell, his wiry arm pressed against you, his long hair tickling your cheek. You want to cement it, drive out any thoughts of blond hair and blue eyes, of confident smirks and praises.

Tilting your chin up, you kiss Ian softly, lips turning up as he sighs contentedly. He waits for several seconds before testing the waters with his tongue, but you gladly accept the intrusion, thinking of his mouth and his face, Ian Ian Ian, not Ze—

Both of you shift on the bed, moving further down to lay on your sides. Ian hooks your leg over his hip, not so subtly grinding against your heat as he starts sucking on your neck.

He's a little sloppy but very enthusiastic, teeth and tongue no doubt leaving marks, and that thought has your stomach rolling.

"You just look good bruised."

Taking his face in your hands, you guide Ian back to your mouth, engaging him in a much more heated kiss as you use your leg to draw him closer to you.

His proportions are off—hips too narrow, legs too long. Your fingers get tangled in his hair rather than simply carding through wavy strands, and when he pulls back to look at you, you're almost startled by his dark irises.

You can do this. You can do this. Just stop thinking about him.

"Can I, uh…" Ian bites his lip and glances away as his cheeks darken a shade. "Can I try something?"

Lifting an eyebrow, you play coy, "Try what?" but the way he's slowly inching down your body, pushing you to lay on your back, answers your question.

"You haven't really… done much, have you?" He breathes against your belly, lifting your shirt to mouth over prickling skin.

"I, uh—no."

It's not a complete lie. Your eyes have been opened, but you're still lacking sexual knowledge in terms of quantity, relatively new to this realm.

Ian situates himself between your thighs, pinches the material of your leggings and pulls them down over your hips. He doesn't ask, just bites his lower lip, and admires the parts of you he's never seen before.

Your gut stirs uncomfortably, a lump forming in your throat as anticipation bubbles up from your chest. Anticipation and… something else.

"Just trust me, okay?" He says, lowering to his chest and gripping the meat of your legs to spread them further. "It's gonna feel really good."

Using fingers to open you up for him, Ian makes the first pass over your entrance with his tongue, and you're able to put a name to that other feeling: dread.

Because it feels wrong. It feels forced. He's too gentle, almost experimenting with you rather than going down. You let out little noises here and there, more for his benefit than for yours, shift beneath him and buck when he finally finds your clit.

He's not bad. He isn't hurting you. He's just…

Not Zeke.

You toss an arm over your eyes, arching your back and groaning. Why why why can't you stop thinking about him? Just for one god damn second. You didn't come here to compare; you came here to forget.

"Feel good?" Ian murmurs against your thigh, and you nod.

He can't seem to keep a steady rhythm as he licks into you, too busy trying different things, trying to provoke a reaction, but the only time he elicits a genuine response from you is when he begins to slide a long finger into your hole.

At last, the image in your head swims and dissipates, replaced by blissful nothingness as Ian starts pumping his hand back and forth. He doesn't curl the digits or aim for any particular spot, but the fact that he's inside of you is enough to at least start scratching that itch.

You think about warning him of the mess you're likely to make, no—the mess you absolutely will make with the proper stimulation. Will Ian actually be able to get you there, though? And, if he does, will he mind the squirting?

"Most guys find it hot. I certainly do."

God dammit.

You wriggle your hips, desperate to feel more of Ian, to feel him deeper and thicker. You want to be full again. You want—

"I think—" you pant, dropping your arm but keeping your eyes squeezed shut. "I wanna—I want you to…"

He moves quickly, climbing back over you to kiss you as he wrenches open the drawer to his nightstand and fumbles around in it.

You don't feel nearly as wet as you have been, but it should be fine with lube. That's what you've been led to believe. You'll be fine.

Ian grabs a little bottle and sets it on the side table then stands up to quickly rid himself of his shirt and pants. Sitting up, you tug your own top over your head, vaguely hear the sound of a cap opening, and when your line of sight is clear again, you find Ian spreading lube over his cock.

It's nice—a little thin, but long with a dark red tip. It would more than do the job you want it to, but—

"Uh," you cough, glance up from his dick and prompt, "Condom?"

He stops mid stroke, looking a lot like a deer caught in headlights, then tells you, "I don't use 'em. Doesn't feel as good."

And, for a moment, you just blink at him, taken aback by his honesty but offended that he thinks this would be okay with you.

"Well, I'm not on birth control yet so…"

He places a knee on the bed and leans over you, trying to be smooth as he catches you in a kiss that you quickly pull away from.

"It's okay, babe. I'll pull out, I promise."

Your stomach lurches.

Last time, in the car, it was different. Both of you forgot, too lost in the heat of the moment.

But now, you're of completely sound mind, know that this isn't what you want and have the time and power to say it.

"Ian, I'd really rather you just put on a condom."

You push gently at his chest, making him straighten up, but he still pouts and grumbles, "The layer ruins the sensation. I just wanna—"

Your patience snaps in a flash, "Alright," and you reach over to grab your shirt, tugging it back on.

"Wait, wait—"

"No." Moving around him, you retrieve your leggings and stand, pulling them up hastily and muttering, "You obviously have expectations that I can't meet, so fuck it. I'm not about to get myself into trouble just 'cause you can't stand the thought of being a little less sensitive."

Your heart is thundering in your chest, hands shaking as you dig through your purse for your keys.

You're not being a bitch, right? It's a safety issue! You don't know where he's been just like he doesn't know where you have.

Ian calls your name, struggling with his pants and choking out apologies, but you just wave him off, slipping your feet into your shoes and walking out. You almost feel bad for him. Maybe if you would have just let your request sink in or explained yourself better, he would have understood.

In the end, though, you're pretty sure he just wanted to get his dick wet, probably figured you were too innocent to know better.

Fuck that.

You have to wait ten minutes for your Uber, but the ride back to the apartment is mostly silent save for the radio station your driver chooses when you fail to voice your own preference. Your brain is a battleground of emotions. Pride for making the decision best suited for you, sorrow for likely ruining this almost relationship with Ian, and guilt for thinking about someone else the entire time you were in his dorm. The two of you would have probably been doomed if you managed to go through with fucking him, anyway. Just saved yourself a lot of trouble.

You're relieved when you make it back home, tip your driver generously then ascend the concrete steps to your apartment. You know Marco is out with Jean and figure Ymir has probably invited her friends over since you told her you would also be away for the evening. You didn't give her any details, but… She knows.

You can already hear loud laughter before you even turn your keys in the door—Reiner, you think—and it brings a small smile to your face, only for it to fall when you walk in to find the same group from the restaurant a couple weeks ago.

The Exact. Same. Group.

"Hey!" Galli is standing before anyone else, avoiding all the feet and knees in his path to you, then slinging an arm around you and taking a sip of the beer in his other hand. "Ymir, I thought you said your cousin was out tonight."

On the couch, Ymir cocks her head and squints at you. "She was supposed to be. What gives?" There's a bong in her lap, a tray on the table covered in little piles of ground up weed. Ymir doesn't like smoking around you and Marco, afraid of setting a bad example or something, but you really don't mind.

It's hard to focus on her, however. You're barely even aware of Galli hanging off you, waiting for your answer. All you can focus on are the pale eyes staring at you from the chair in the corner.

You feel nauseous, phantom touches from Ian playing out on your body as you stare at Zeke, and all you can do is grit your teeth and shake your head.

"Just… didn't work out," you finally tell Ymir, shrugging away from Galli and making your way to the back hallway.

Ymir must pass her piece off to someone else because she's up and following you.

"It was a guy, right?" You grimace. "Was he a creep or something? Do I need to kick his ass?"

You snort, turning just as you reach your doorway and grinning at the older girl. "He was just being a college boy, 'Mir."

"So, I do need to kick his ass."

"No."

She doesn't seem convinced. You drawl, "I'm fine. Just gonna shower," then slip into your room, shutting the door behind you and resting your head against it.

Your hands are even less steady now than when you were angry, breaths fast and shallow. You had been confused initially—what the fuck is he doing here—but, in truth, you should have put the pieces together the night Zeke brought you home. He was out with the whole group minus Ymir, for one, then made the comment about his friend living in the same complex.

It was all spelled out for you; you just hadn't taken the time to read.

Zeke can hear the running water from where he's sitting in the den that's far too small for this many people. It's setting his teeth on edge, making his neck stiff and his skin hot.

You're here. Or, really, he's here. This is your home. He had unknowingly walked into your territory, and now he's paying the price—silently plagued by the thought of your life here. What are you really like? What kind of secrets could he glean from your personal space? And, what do you look like in the privacy of your room, your shower—

He knows the answer to that one already—stunning—remembers all too well the way water streamed over your curves, how droplets hung from your eyelashes and pouty lips. Zeke already knows what you look like when wet (in more ways than one), and sitting here in your apartment is bringing every image he committed to memory back to the forefront of his mind.

The way you moved for him, how he made you moan and cry, what you looked like spread open and dripping and what you sounded like panting his name…

Zeke kicks an ankle over his opposite thigh, resituates himself before anyone notices the state he's in which is bothered.

Ymir said you had been with a guy tonight. Zeke had heard it when your cousin followed you into the hallway. It didn't work out, you told her in a stiff voice, but was your tone so short because you were upset, or was it the shock of seeing Zeke in your living room?

He shakes his foot, flexes his hand, pops his neck. Reiner and Galliard are getting loud about something Zeke has been tuning out since before you even got back. Bertl and Annie are on the couch next to Ymir, the three of them passing the bong back and forth and leaning to hand it off to Marcel every so often.

Zeke only indulges every so often, typically prefers mushrooms for the mood boost or coke for the energy. It isn't often he wants to smoke, and he made that apparent coming over tonight, rolling his eyes at Reiner when he had tried to pass him a blunt and flipping him off when he had snickered and jabbed, "Suit yourself, gramps."

Zeke feels like he's constantly surrounded by immaturity. Between his friends group and Eren's, it's no wonder he's been known to get cranky.

That's why you were such a surprise, having always blended in as one of the dumbass kids, but oh, you are so much more. You still have that hopeful twinkle in your eye like most people your age do, but it's slightly dulled—just enough to notice. You've experienced life in a different way from your friends. You're not careless like the others. You have drive, a force pushing you to do better. At everything. You want knowledge and experience.

And, Zeke wants to give it to you.

Maybe he's trying to capture his youth before it slips away from him entirely. Or, maybe he's just a horny guy presented with a beautiful, willing young girl. Either way, Zeke knows that he is infatuated. Whether it's with you or just the idea of you is also still up for debate.

A door down the hallway opens, and Zeke has to make a conscious effort to not to turn and look for you at the sound. No, he stays absolutely still, forces his gaze to Bertholdt who's droning on about law school even though no one but Annie cares. She's more or less in his lap, petting his hair as she listens to him speak lazily. Reiner is on the ground at their feet, arguing with Galliard who's perched on the armrest of the chair his brother is sitting in.

Everything and nothing is going on at the same time, and Zeke doesn't care about any of it. As soon as he catches sight of you sliding into the kitchen, he's on his feet, uttering, "Water," when Ymir looks up at him curiously.

He passes into the conjoined room, stops at the threshold to admire the view of you balancing on your tiptoes as you reach for a bag of chips on top of the refrigerator. You teeter for a moment, the snack just a little too far back, then drop back to the flats of your feet and sigh.

Zeke makes sure he's wearing his best smirk before asking, "Need help?"

You spin, jaw dropping slightly as you stare at him with wide doe eyes. The shocked expression makes his cock twitch in his pants, and Zeke doesn't wait for a response, just walks over and easily grabs the bag you had failed to retrieve.

Thanks,” you breathe, moving to take the chips, but Zeke holds them out behind his back for a moment, grin widening when you pout. “Wha—”

“Actually, how about instead of eating shitty chips, you come get a shitty burger with me,” he suggests, and the way you blink up at him speechless lights him up. “Come on, it sounds like you had a rough night.”

Your eyes narrow into something more confused. “How do you know about my night?”

“Heard you and Ymir talking,” he answers easily, squinting when he catches sight of something right at the collar of your shirt. Chancing a glance over his shoulder to make sure the two of you are still alone, Zeke brushes hair away from your throat, hooks a finger under the material, and pulls to reveal what’s very obviously a hickey.

His chest is suddenly bursting with a possessive heat, and Zeke has to fight to keep from sucking his teeth or scoffing or looking displeased in any capacity because he really has no right to be.

"Couldn't have been that rough, I guess," he mumbles, trying to keep bitterness from lacing his words.

Seeing a mark like this, left in plain view for anyone to find—for Zeke to find—it makes his gums throb, makes him want to sink his teeth into you, cover that mark and leave behind more of his own.

You reach up and gently push his hand away, rubbing at the hickey as your face darkens a shade.

"It wasn't… ideal," you say with a frown.

"Usually isn't," Zeke chuckles. He knows damn well your expectations are skewed because of him, and that thought dulls his jealousy and replaces it with a certain smugness. "Now, seriously, pack a bag. We can grab real food, and then you can hang out with Eren and whoever else he's with."

He watches you nibble on your bottom lip in thought, wants to tug it into his own mouth but keeps his distance as he turns to put the chips back on the fridge.

"It'll be good for you to relax with friends," he continues. "Plus, your cousin will be able to stop worrying about being a bad role model or whatever."

Nodding now, you force a self-conscious smile. "Yeah, you're right."

"Usually am," he smacks, pointing a finger gun at you, and the giggle that spills past your lips makes him smirk again. Responsive little thing.

"Okay, lemme go change into… Not this." You both look down at your oversized t-shirt and little lounge shorts. You had probably resigned yourself to a night spent cooped up in your room when you had gotten out of the shower.

Zeke has better plans, though.

He shoos you along then walks back into the crowded den, grabbing his keys off the coffee table. Everyone is involved in conversation, and Zeke doesn't have the time or patience to wait for a break in all the stoned conspiracies, so he simply walks up behind Ymir on the couch and plants a hand on the crown of her head, tilting it so that she's staring up at him with bloodshot eyes.

"Do you mind, Jaeger?"

"Not even a little bit," he deadpans before informing her, "I'm gonna bring your cousin over to the house to chill with Eren and company. Cool?"

She shrugs. "Yeah, if that's what she wants to do, I don't give a fuck."

Zeke hums, pushes Ymir's head forward, then walks away to post up next to the front door.

You reappear a few minutes later clad in a familiar ensemble—leggings and Zeke's own hoodie. You also have a knit beanie pulled over your wet hair, looking seven shades of adorable when you tug it down to cover your ears as well.

"'Mir, Zeke's taking me to—"

"I know, I know. Don't do anything dumb."

You wave to everyone else in the room then shove your feet into a pair of beat up Vans and nod at Zeke who opens the door and ushers you out. Once it's closed again, he takes your little bag from your shoulder, holding it himself and suppressing a satisfied grin when you stare at him as if he just gave you the moon.

"Thanks."

"Of course."

He helps you into the Bronco, makes sure your legs are tucked in before shutting the door, then walks to the other side.

Even in the crisp air, Zeke can feel that he's warm, buzzing with too much energy that he can't put to good use yet. The last time—the only time—you were in his car was when he brought you home and had you ride him. Only a week has passed, but it feels like far too long since he's been inside you. Zeke has half a mind to suggest another round, but considering what you had to deal with earlier, he doubts you would be receptive to the idea, may have already had your fill for the day.

It leaves a bad taste in Zeke's mouth, one he hopes a burger will get rid of, so he picks a playlist on his phone, the one he made for you, actually, then pulls out of the complex, heading to the nearest fast food joint.

"So, do you wanna talk about it?" He ventures after a few moment's silence, not totally sure if he even wants to, but there is a morbid curiosity in the back of his head that needs to be sated.

You stare ahead, pushing your lips out in a pout as you contemplate. "There's not really a lot to say."

"Was this the guy? Like, the guy?"

The one you wanted to be good for. The one you came to Zeke for. The one who started this.

"Yeah," you exhale, rub a hand over your face, and at first, Zeke thinks the little hiccup you let out is a quiet sob, but when your shoulders start to shake harder, he glances over to find you laughing into your palms.

"That bad, huh?"

"I mean," you snort amusedly. "I don't have much to compare it to, and I think—before it went wrong—he was genuinely trying his best—"

"How'd it go wrong?"

You scoff, probably roll your eyes, and drop your arms to cross over your chest. "College boy thought he was too good for a condom." The annoyance in your voice is cute, as if you hadn't let Zeke fuck you raw a week ago.

"Anyway, I asked him to, he said he didn't wanna be desensitized, so I left."

Zeke clicks his tongue. "What a good girl."

He hears your surprised inhale, sees the way you shift in your seat, and he has to wonder—did you think of him while with this boy? Did his face ever cross your mind? Did you remember his hands on you while someone else touched you.

He thinks he knows the answer, but he also knows better than to ask right now. Maybe later. Just to watch you squirm.

Zeke pulls into a drive-up spot and tells you to get whatever you want, giving you an unimpressed look when you tell him you’ll just have a kid's burger.

"What? I'm not super hungry," you defend yourself.

He waves a hand, not about to tease you for it, and orders the food, tacking on a milkshake for good measure. When it all arrives, you eye the shake with silent interest, and Zeke laughs, unwrapping his burger and taking a bite before grumbling around it, "S'for you, babe." He swallows. "You had a shitty time with a dude. That usually calls for ice cream, right?"

You scrunch your nose, a cute, snarl-like expression that makes Zeke think things, but he keeps them to himself, just relaxes in his seat and chows down.

You slowly begin to take little bites, bobbing your head to the song that's playing until eventually you speak up.

"I don't know why I was so surprised to see you at the apartment. I should've figured it out after that night at the restaurant."

"Just like I probably should've put together the fact that Ymir's your cousin," he adds, and you flash a tiny smile. "Didn't click for some reason."

"How long have you known all of them?"

"Uh, I've been friends with Reiner and Bertl for a few years, met at a metal show and just didn't really part ways," he tells you, remembering that time long ago when he'd almost beat the shit out of the brawny blond for accidentally pulling him into the middle of a mosh pit. Luckily, his taller counterpart was good at smoothing things over (fucking lawyers) and talked Zeke down, bought him a drink, and the rest is history.

He tells you all this and a little more, enjoying having your undivided attention. "They knew Marcel and Pock who were tight with Annie and Ymir. You get the gist."

You make a thoughtful noise and nod, and Zeke figures it's time to ask a question that's been on his mind since he took you home from work: "How long have you and Marco lived with her?"

You're quiet for a few seconds, lowering your half-eaten burger to your lap before asking, "You wanna get into this?" It isn't laced with sass or attitude, a genuine question if Zeke is ready to take on your burden.

"Yeah, if you don't mind."

"Well, uh, the answer is about two years."

"And, the explanation as to why?"

He watches as you slide your tongue over your front teeth almost as if counting them, eyes cast toward the roof of the car.

"We grew up about twenty minutes away, little nuclear family and all. 'Mir wasn't super close with her parents, especially after coming out, so she was over a lot. Cool older cousin. Marco and I adored her. Still do. But anyway…" You take a deep breath before continuing. "Mom and Dad went out one night when I was seventeen. Ymir was over hanging out. And, then at around one in the morning there was a cop at our door telling us we needed to go to the hospital 'cause they'd been in an accident."

Zeke swears to himself. He had a feeling it was something like this, but he'd hoped against it.

"They both died that morning within, like, fifteen minutes of each other. We thought our aunt and uncle would get custody since they were next of kin or whatever, but Ymir was twenty-three at the time and straight up went to court for us. She told the judge about how her parents kicked her out as a teenager and everything, and since Marco and I were older, they ruled we would all be able to survive together without any real issue."

It's a lot to take in, and there's an odd sort of ache right behind Zeke's sternum that makes him wrap the last quarter of his burger up and stick it back in the paper bag it came in.

You don't seem anywhere close to crying, but your utterly resigned tone is enough to tell him that you probably ran out of tears a long time ago.

"Is that why you're a year late graduating?" He asks.

"Yeah. Marco threw himself into school and sports to cope, but I just kinda… Stopped… Existing? I was still hosting at Garrison's for money, but I started flunking junior year and eventually stopped showing up altogether. Ymir talked to the counselor and administration who pretty much allowed me to take a gap year for extenuating circumstances. Then, I went back last fall."

You're too young to be carrying this kind of baggage, to be this damaged. But, Zeke knows it's what makes you hold yourself the way you do. Yeah, some people are just naturally more mature even as children, and maybe you were one of those, but your parents dying aged you. You may be naïve when it comes to a few things, but hard life experiences will go a long way in educating a person.

Zeke is being genuine when he tells you, "I'm really sorry you had to go through that—" corrects himself, "—are going through that."

"Thanks. I'm just glad I still have my brother and Ymir."

Zeke has to admit he has a newfound respect for the woman he previously thought to be a little obnoxious—crass and callous for seemingly no reason. Turns out there's more to her than a potential drug problem and a "desire for mad pussy".

Your dinner sits forgotten in your lap, but you finally make a move for the milkshake, taking a sip and showing a tiny smile around the straw. Zeke goes out on a limb and slides his right hand over the back of your neck, is able to stroke over the pulse point on the side of your throat with an outstretched thumb, and you shut your eyes, shoulders going slack as you relax into his touch.

"Listen," he pauses before fessing up to some slightly misleading information he fed you at your apartment. "Eren isn't at the house tonight. He's with Mikasa at the weird little blond kid's—"

"Armin," you laugh.

Zeke doesn't really care about his name, though he should have learned it a long time ago. "Moving on. I have no problem dropping you off over there, but…"

"Honestly," you cut him off with a deep breath. "If you don't mind, I'd rather hang out with you. I don't know if I could handle your brother's… volume. Or Meeks' perpetual puppy-dog eyes for him."

The corner of Zeke's mouth twitches upward. "I was so hoping you'd say that."

He puts the Bronco in reverse and pulls out from his spot, a little too happy to be driving both of you to his house instead of just himself. Inside, he throws away the leftovers from your late dinner, tells you to make yourself at home, then goes upstairs to his room to change into a pair of mesh athletic shorts and an old college t-shirt. You seemed to have had the same idea, in similar, comfortable attire, though your bottoms are much shorter. Looking through the collection of movies next to the TV, you don't notice him, and Zeke settles on the couch, content to just watch you for a few minutes.

He's still ruminating on the sad tale you told him in the car, starting to feel a little bad for getting involved with you. In the end, he knows you should be with someone your own age, that he's taking advantage to some extent, but…

The way you look at him, how you regard him with respect he doesn't deserve. It's intoxicating. You probably don't even realize you do it, but it's written all over your pretty face, and Zeke can't get enough of it.

You pull out a title and crouch in front of the TV to turn on his PS4. It gives him a fantastic view of your ass, fabric stretching over it and making Zeke's mouth water. You turn on the console, grab a controller, then straighten back up and figure out the home screen, navigating to the disc drive and selecting it.

When you turn, you look mildly surprised to see him sitting there.

"Don't mind me. Just being a creep," he admits, watches you take on a nervous expression. Knowing what's probably going on in your brain, he adds, "Don't worry. I didn't bring you here to fool around again. Figure you've had enough of that for the day."

You let out a relieved sigh, and he just barely picks up on your thanks before you walk over and plop down next to him.

He easily recognizes the title screen of the movie you've picked—Fellowship of the Ring—feels himself get pulled even further into your orbit and utters, "Good choice."

The movie starts, but only half of Zeke's attention is on it, too aware of you, of your body heat, of your chest rising and falling with every breath you take. He eventually leans on the armrest, spreading out to take up more of the couch with high hopes that you'll follow his lead. Your gaze flicks to him every so often until Zeke scoots into the back cushions and nods to the extra space in front of him. You have a short, internal debate but give in, lying down with your back to his chest.

He waits for another few minutes before allowing himself to drape his arm over your waist, and you don't complain, moving closer to him in a way that makes Zeke hold back a groan.

The floral scent of your shampoo fogs his senses, and he lets his eyes drift to the jut of your collarbone, the swell of your breasts. You aren't wearing a bra, and Zeke cringes when he feels himself stirring in his shorts, right up against your ass.

The only hint you show of noticing is a tiny grin, like you're satisfied with his reaction to your body, and he has to chuckle through his nose.

So much for not fucking you tonight.

You're both still for some time, but you get restless and push back against Zeke in a not-so-subtle manner. He's half hard already, lowers his face to your neck and warns you, "Don't start something you can't finish, little girl."

It only encourages you, and you poke your tongue between your teeth playfully and grind against him harder.

Gripping your hip, Zeke grinds right back, cursing the material separating him from your bare skin before realizing he can remedy that problem.

"Fuck it. Get up," he commands, and you're rolling from your place in the blink of an eye, Zeke quickly following and gently pushing you so that you're not between the couch and the coffee table.

As soon as you're both clear of it, he takes you by the shoulder and turns you around, then bends to pick you up by the thighs and toss you over his shoulder.

You let out a surprised squeal followed by a giggle, kicking your feet a little as he makes his way toward the staircase. However, he pauses about halfway, eyes darting to the hallway that leads to the master bedroom—bigger and, more importantly, closer. He doesn't really care that it so happens to be Eren's room, switching his course and carrying you through the open door.

It's about as messy as Zeke predicted it would be, but he doubts either of you will be paying attention to anything other than the bed.

You bounce when he throws you onto it, watch with huge eyes as Zeke strips his shirt off then covers your body with his.

The first kiss already has him panting, a groan rumbling from his throat when you grab a tight fistful of his hair. You open your mouth for him, eager for his tongue, already arching your back and wrapping your legs around his waist, and Zeke has to know—he has to—so he finally asks, "Did you think of me earlier today? When you were with him, did I cross your mind?"

"Too often," you confess in a whisper, and his spine tingles when you go even further to tell him, "I couldn't get you out of my fucking head. He was literally eating me out, and all I could think about was you."

Zeke is very suddenly more jealous than he's possibly ever been, but he's also extremely turned on by the thought. Another man's tongue buried in your pussy, and you just couldn't help but think of him.

He smirks against your lips, teases, "Yeah? You want me again?"

"Yes, so bad."

He licks into your mouth, sucks on your tongue, then pulls back. "Wanna feel me in your tight little cunt again?"

You nod furiously, staring up at him with so much desperation, it makes Zeke leak pre into his shorts.

First thing's first, he thinks, tugging on your shirt until you pull it over your head. He immediately locates the hickey on your neck and all but attacks it, biting the bruised flesh until you whine and scratch down his back. He sucks it into his mouth, bringing more blood to the surface of your skin and working at it until he's positive the first mark is completely covered with his own.

"God," you huff. "You said you weren't territorial, and yet…"

"That was before I knew what it felt like to see you marked up by someone else."

You shiver, and Zeke works a hand between the two of you, sliding it into the waistband of your shorts and panties to dip a finger between your folds.

Fuck, you're already so wet. He doesn't think he's ever affected a girl the way he affects you. It makes him absolutely feral.

"Get these off before I tear them off," he growls, tugging your shorts down before you even have a chance to.

You lift your hips to help, and Zeke flings the material somewhere over his shoulder then stands to take his own off. He rids himself of his glasses too, placing them on Eren's cluttered nightstand, then rips open the drawer and searches blindly through the contents until he feels foil against his fingers. Typical teenage boy.

Licking his lips, Zeke tosses the little package so that it lands on your stomach. You pick it up, lifting an eyebrow.

"I want you to roll it on my cock yourself," he tells you. "Consider it practice. And, maybe closure for earlier."

Nodding, you tear into the wrapper with a canine then carefully pull the latex from it. He watches you study it for a couple seconds, then raise to your knees and move toward where Zeke's positioned himself at the side of the bed.

Before you press the condom to his him, you duck forward and wrap your lips around his cockhead, and Zeke fucking leaks into your mouth, coating your tongue with pre-cum and gasping your name.

"Jesus Christ, you're gonna kill me."

He gives a short thrust, making you drop your jaw and take him deeper. Fisting a hand in your hair, he slides in until he's against the back of your throat, and that praise is out of his mouth before he knows it.

"Good fucking girl."

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, and Zeke sees the way you shift your hips, remembers that you're dripping for him, then pulls out.

"Alright, put it on, baby, come on."

You obey, struggling for a bit, but he just watches, admiring the way your hands look so small around his length.

When you finish, Zeke pumps himself a couple times, pushing you to lay back and grabbing an extra pillow. He slides a hand under your back and lifts you without a problem, situating the padding underneath, then gets between your legs.

Eyes hazy, you question, "Lube?" and to prove you don't really need it, Zeke pushes a finger into your pussy, meeting no resistance whatsoever.

"O-oh my god," you stutter, another breath forced from your chest when he slides a second one in and hooks them to press against your g-spot.

"You really think we need lube, sweetheart?"

He massages your walls, able to feel tissue swell under his touch, fluid already pooling around your slit.

"No, no we don't, okay, I want you, please please—"

Zeke removes his hand, wastes absolutely no time as he lines himself up and works his cock into you. Your head falls back. Your eyes roll aimlessly. Your jaw hangs open.

Zeke is in heaven, lost in the way you squeeze him tighter than he's felt you, sweet little cunt so perfect for him. He buries himself inside you knowing he's too big, that you're holding your fucking breath because you're so full of cock, but he can't help himself, doesn't stop until he's up against your god damn cervix.

You're silent, but your body is twitching on the mattress, near convulsing as you try to accommodate him. He should pull back, should serve gentle, shallow thrusts as your walls flutter for him, but he wants to be in your guts, wants you to feel him in your stomach, wants to leave a fucking impression on your insides.

Zeke grins when he notices your face is just a little too dark, realizes you still haven't taken in any air and reaches up to pat your face.

"Come on, baby, breathe. You've gotta breathe."

He pulls back just enough, and you gasp like you've been drowning, eyes finally finding his again but so fuck-drunk, he wonders if you're even really seeing him.

It doesn't matter. He's about to make you so stupid on his cock, you probably won't be able to focus for days.

Looking down, Zeke relishes the sight of his hips almost flush against you, the fact that you're capable of taking all of him, and when he slides out further, he sees that you've already creamed all over him.

"Mm, you must like a little bit of pain, making a mess like this."

He gathers the thick discharge on the pad of his finger, uses it to coat your clit and rubs over it relentlessly.

His hips are moving again, forcing himself into you as he toys with the little bud. You spasm around him and reach a shaky hand down to try to push his away.

"T-too much, Zeke. Can't—Can't—"

"Yeah, you can." He leans down to kiss you, then murmurs—threatens—"I'm not gonna stop until you come."

You whimper, but the way your cunt opens up for him just informs Zeke that the sense of helplessness you're probably feeling is turning you on.

Straightening again, he continues to fuck into you, swiping over your clit quickly, fascinated by the way squirt is starting to dribble from the tiny hole.

He's far past overstimulating you, rough thrusts hitting your g-spot then that back wall. It's pushing you up and down on the bed, making your tits bounce. Zeke pinches one of your nipples then strokes over it with a lighter finger, apparently just what you needed because your eyes open again, revealing the way they're glistening with tears, and the first one falls just as your muscles lock up.

You let out an honest-to-god sob as your orgasm hits you, words thick and hard to understand, but Zeke listens closely and almost comes when he realizes you're pleading for more.

"Don't stop, god, oh my god, can feel you so—so—deep."

Zeke does abandon your clit, but it's to grip your hips and drive into you. He throws his head back, grunts toward the ceiling, and tries to give you all he has.

You pulse around him, swollen and tight, and he knows he won't last much longer, not with the way you're begging for him, not with the way you're quaking for him.

Falling forward on his forearms, he crushes his mouth to yours, gives several long thrusts, then breaks away as he comes so hard his vision whites out. You surge upward, shoving your tongue back between his lips like you're not finished with him.

His pace slows, eventually stopping entirely, but the kiss continues long after, the two of you panting into each other until Zeke comes to terms with the fact that it is not an efficient way to catch his breath.

He pulls out with a regretful groan, and you release a shaky sigh, still twitching.

"You're gonna feel that tomorrow."

"I am—" another breath, "—well aware."

Zeke rolls to the side but keeps a hand on your thigh, rubbing circles on your warm skin.

"I think you might be a little bit of a masochist," he muses.

"Maybe. Or, maybe it was just the headspace I was in."

It's a likely possibility. Between your encounter with College Boy and the depressing conversation in his car, Zeke wouldn't be at all surprised if you were in the mood to be hurt.

"It's something we can explore later," he says, and you agree with a hum.

It takes some time for either of you to start moving, but Zeke reminds you to go to the bathroom, waiting for the door to open again before he joins you inside.

He runs a hot shower like he did that first night, flushes his condom down the toilet despite knowing he really shouldn't, then steps into the large, tiled stall behind you.

Your head is tilted toward the spray, letting it hit you right in the face. As soon as Zeke wraps his arms around you, you fall back against him, legs barely beneath you. He isn't sure if it's because they gave out or because you simply need to be held, but he doesn't mind, keeps you close to his chest.

Afterward, Zeke gathers all his clothes as well as yours then leads you from Eren's room and up to his own. He isn't entirely sure when his brother will be getting home and would hate for him to stumble upon the two of you in his bed.

You're both relatively quiet as you wind down for the night. Zeke turns the lights off but flicks the TV into a music channel. Back in pajamas, you lay close to him in bed, wrapped in his sheets as well as his loose grip.

Just as he's starting to doze off, Zeke is roused by your quiet voice, timid as the night you first ventured into his room.

"We should probably stop hooking up."

His stomach drops a bit, but before immediately arguing, he asks, "Why?"

You grit your teeth hard enough for him to hear, body tense when you admit, "Because I'm… I'm getting too attached."

And, just like that, his spirits lift again.

Burying his nose in your hair, Zeke murmurs into it, "It's alright. 'Cause so am I."

It's not just your body that he can't get enough of, and it's not the constant validation that you shower him with. Those probably have something to do with his feelings, yeah, but there's something else to it.

Zeke really should look past it—push it all down and encourage you to move on. He knows you're not right for each other, knows that this can get messy for you, and knows that there's a good possibility that he'll end up hurting you one way or another.

But, he also knows he's fucking smitten, and well, Zeke's always been the selfish type.

#mels deflowered #zeke jaeger x reader #zeke yeager x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fanfiction

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abundanceofnots · 3 years

Note

a fic with a them and a kitten 🐈‍⬛❤

DANGER!

His instinct wakes him up, the familiar voice inside his head screaming at him to abandon the peaceful slumber and take cover.

Mickey’s eyes flip open to the sight of two beastly orange beams watching him from the darkness, and he scrambles back on the bed in a panic, elbowing Ian right in the back in the process.

“Not in the mood, Mick,” he murmurs sleepily from his side.

With a somewhat self-soothing litany of fuck fuck fuck fuck, Mickey leans over to flick on the table lamp on his nightstand. The creature isn’t on the bed anymore, so it’s probably not a complete idiot with suicidal tendencies (Creeping up on a guy like that, who fuckin’ does that? Only killers and morons, that’s who.), and when Mickey peeks over the edge of the mattress, he finds it sitting on the floor, staring at him with unblinking eyes.

Groaning, he rubs his face.

“What did I say about lettin’ that dirty clump of hair in the bedroom with us?”

To his annoyance, Ian just nuzzles deeper into his pillow, apparently not too preoccupied with the fact that his husband was virtually mauled in his sleep.

“S’not dirty anymore. Gave it a little bath.”

“Yeah? Bet it can still give me like uh—” Mickey blinks rapidly, the motors in his exhausted brain working overtime. “—like uh, rabies or—or AIDS!”

Ian gives a prolonged sigh. “It doesn’t have AIDS.”

“You don’t know that.”

And he really doesn’t, because the way this cat came to (temporarily!) stay with them was almost identical to how all shitty things happened to them.

The short version? They were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Ian was too much of a soft bitch to just walk away from the situation and forget it ever happened.

The long version is basically the same but in a bit more words. The vermin must’ve snuck into their apartment complex when they were coming back from the store, full arms of shopping bags obscuring Mickey’s view of his surroundings, and followed them all the way up onto the second floor, lured by the smell of their bullshit organic ham from Whole Foods—or the looks of Mickey’s juicy calves, who could really know for sure.

Mickey only noticed it when they stopped in front of their apartment door, and the thing curled itself around the toe cap of his right boot, hell-bent on digging into it with its sharp claws and kicking it with its hind legs.

And okay, back then, it was sorta funny. Mainly because this was the least predatory behavior Mickey’s ever seen in his life. There was just suddenly this thing—hardly a full-sized cat yet, covered from head to toe in mud that made her hair stick together in little hedgehog-y spikes—which already decided to take on a big scary shoe.

So obviously, Ian’s natural reaction was to start ovulating on the spot and claim they had to take it in.

Fuckin’ soft bitch.

“It’s starin’ at me,” Mickey remarks from the bed as he observes the cat-midget with a scowl. He really had to stop enabling Ian’s savior complex.

“Close your eyes.”

“What if it sneaks up on me again, slits my throat open?”

“You have a fat neck. It would have to dig real deep.”

Deciding the second-rate muff on the floor can wait, for now, Mickey turns to Ian. “Who’s side are you fuckin’ on?” he snips at the back of his head.

“My side,” Ian replies tiredly and then shuffles under his comforter to lie on his other side, facing Mickey. “Look, she was scratching at the door, meowing like crazy. You probably couldn’t hear it over your snores, but I did. What else was I supposed to do?”

Mickey watches him for a second. “I don’t snore.”

“Right.” Rolling his eyes, Ian hauls himself off the bed. “Must be my other husband, then. I always get you two confused.”

He takes out one of his older hoodies from the midsized wardrobe opposite the bed and lays it on top, fluffing it a little, so it forms an impromptu nest. Then, he gently grabs the cat and sits it on there, letting it sniff around the material for a couple of minutes before it finally settles down, leaning its head on its outstretched paws. Its eyes stay on alert.

“They like being high up,” Ian answers Mickey’s questioning looks when he comes back to bed. “So they can monitor us and the room at all times. Makes them feel safe.”

“The fuck did you learn that?”

“Google. Done some quick research last night.”

“Oh! So you become a fuckin’ cat lady in one night, but when I asked you to figure out how we could install a sex swing in the empty room—”

Reaching over him to switch the light off, Ian smacks a kiss on Mickey’s cheek.

“Goodnight, Mick.”

Reluctantly, Mickey closes his mouth, already feeling himself deflate.

Whatever. They’re getting rid of that thing later today.

---

“Hey! You’re early,” Ian greets him from the couch. His head propped up on the armrest is the only part of him that Mickey can see from the door, and it makes him chuckle. This way, Ian looks like a magician’s assistant.

“Yeah. The new guys aren’t so useless after all.” Having taken his jacket off, Mickey stalks closer to the couch, his lips already curling into a smirk. “Figured we could use the time better. Maybe take the new toy for a spin. Introduce it to my assho—WHAT THE FUCK is that thing still doing here?”

The surplus pair of eyes regard him from Ian’s chest, quite unperturbed by his outburst as it gets its chin and ears scratched.

“We kinda bonded,” Ian admits sheepishly.

“I can see that.”

In the daylight, and probably after another thorough scrub, the creature’s fur got a vivid, ginger color. Mickey would probably laugh at the resemblance if he wasn’t so set on hating this thing.

“I couldn’t just ditch her. Look at her!” Ian tries to argue, as if looking at it would solve the problem.

Nah, no way. He’s not falling for this dumb big sad eyes crap again. The last time he did, he ended up with a husband in a prissy apartment on the West Side. And now, on top of that, he’ll most likely have to share it with a tiny ass-licker—and not even the kind he likes.

“Bought some stuff,” Ian adds after a pause, motioning in the direction of the kitchen counter where a stack of cans stood next to a bag of dry cat food and cat litter. “She’ll stay with us for some time. Two weeks max, I swear. And we’ll try to find her a new home in the meantime.”

Mickey surveys the counter for another beat. “That’s for two weeks?”

“Mick’s a big eater.”

He swears his eyes grow three times their standard size at that.

“You named it ‘Mick’?” he asks reproachfully.

Ian grimaces. “Yeah? But not on purpose,” he explains apologetically. “I just started telling her about you, and she seemed to perk up every time I mentioned your name. I think she thought it was her name.”

“Great.”

“You said it yourself: Mickey can be a girl’s name, too. And it makes sense because she reminds me of you in so many ways.”

Mickey inspects the cat that’s supposed to be so much like him and finds that during their conversation, she fell asleep and was now letting out these low huffs against Ian’s T-shirt.

And sure, now, in her pacified state, just sprawled like that like a hairy-ass baby on Ian’s chest, Mickey could see himself calling her cute. Maybe. Whatever.

“Even if she looks like your long-lost sister?” he jokes.

“A ginger with Milkovich attitude. Kinda perfect, don’t you think?”

As Mickey watches his big softie of a husband tenderly stroke the cat’s fur, grinning at her as if he was already completely enamored with her, he realizes that he’s smiling, too.

Ah, shit. Mickey’s so fucked.

To be continued. Maybe.

#i only have time for something short i said to myself #and then whipped out this 1.3k fluffy baby #anyway i'm dumb #hope you like it debs!#and sorry for waiting for it only for 78 years #my fics #gallavich fic #mick meet mick #shameless fanfiction #writing prompt #nancynwheeler #answered

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callivich · 3 years

Text

I really love the idea of Lip having to take Ian and Mickey home after their anniversary party, so I wrote a little something.

This references a previous ficlet where Lip has an inappropriate dream about Mickey, so adults only please!

Thanks to @udontfuckangie for the advice RE: babies in car seats in ambulances! This was originally going to have Tami drive the ambulance with Freddie but yeah, not safe. So, I had to change things - therefore let’s assume the ambulance is fine parked outside the Alibi for a night. Also, the song is “Hot Girl” by Megan Thee Stallion.

Lip gets into the front seat of his and Tami’s car to find Mickey leaning through the gap, half in the front of the car and half in the back, fiddling with the radio. He flicks through the different stations until he finds something he wants to listen to. Lip wants to shove him backwards and tell him to sit the fuck down, but...fuck, it’s their wedding anniversary. So, he’ll allow it.

“All the hot girls make it pop, pop, pop, bad bitches with the bag say ah ya ya”

“Fucking love this song.” Mickey shouts, turning the volume up, the bass vibrating through the car. He scrambles back awkwardly, elbowing Lip in the side, so that he’s sitting in the back seat. Ian laughs like this is the most hilarious thing that he’s ever seen. They both nod their heads in time to the rhythm, singing the chorus loudly.

Lip shakes his head, if there’s one thing he hates about being sober it’s dealing with drunk people, but, he reminds himself it’s their wedding anniversary and, goddamn, do they deserve to be carefree and happy. And they are feeling very carefree and happy right now. And also very drunk. So much so, it was decided that they should leave the ambulance outside the Albi and Lip would drive them home, before coming back to the bar to get Tami and Fred. It’s not that late, and Freddie is sleeping soundly so he leaves Tami to enjoy the party for a bit longer.

The song ends and Lip quickly turns down the volume so his eardrums aren’t destroyed.

“Play it again!” Mickey shouts, again, as if Lip isn’t sitting right in front of him.

“I can’t, it’s the radio.”

“Fuck you.”

He can hear Ian laughing again, like Mickey is the funniest person in the world.

“Put your seatbelts on.” Lip orders, cutting through the laughter.

“Fuck you.” Mickey replies, as Ian puts on his own seatbelt.

“Very creative, you just gonna repeat yourself all night? I’m not driving until you wear a seatbelt.” Lip sighs, as Ian’s words from earlier come back to haunt him - he’s feeling very much like a dad to Ian and Mickey right now.

“M’fine, just drive, bitch.” Mickey grumbles, punching the back of Lip’s seat.

“No.” Lip taps the steering wheel. “Seatbelt.”

“Here, I’ll do it.” Ian reaches across Mickey and pulls the seatbelt, clicking it into place after a few tries. “Gotta keep you safe.” He gently pats Mickey’s chest.

Lip rolls his eyes at the sappy, soft tone of Ian’s voice, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get over hearing Ian speak like that to Mickey fucking Milkovich, as if he’s the most precious thing in the world. But, he supposes, to Ian he is. Still, it’s weird.

Checking one more time to see they are wearing seatbelts, he starts the car and wishes for no traffic and an easy ride to the West Side.

“You liked the surprise?” Mickey asks Ian.

“Loved it.”

“I got you good.”

“Yeah, you did. Really thought you’d forgotten.”

“But I didn’t!”

“Fucking love you so much.”

“Love you too.”

And then the inevitable making out starts, and the car is filled with the sounds of sloppy kissing, breathy ‘yeah’s, and some verging on pornographic sounding moaning.

“Wanna suck you off.” Mickey whispers, thankfully loud enough for Lip to hear so he can put a stop to that before it happens. He reaches one arm behind and pushes blindly at Mickey’s head.

“No you’re not, Mickey. I’m serious, sit back.” He pulls his arm back, when he hears Mickey huffing and swearing under his breath. He checks the rear view mirror, and Mickey is glaring at him but sitting upright.

“It’s our fucking wedding anniversary.” Mickey punches the back of Lip’s seat again.

“I know, but you aren’t going to suck my brother off in the backseat of my car. That just isn’t going to happen.” Lip takes a deep breath, goddamn, Mickey is a pain in the ass when he’s drunk, and even more so than usual tonight. Probably down to him being so pleased at pulling off the surprise. And Lip gets that - Ian looked completely astonished when he’d walked into the party. Ian is drunker than Lip’s seen him in a long while - he doesn’t usually drink that much because of his meds, but once in awhile, during a special occasion like this, he lets loose. And it’s kinda nice to see? Because Ian is a sweet, sappy and very silly drunk - there’s something endearing about his behaviour. Lip likes seeing him carefree like this. He doesn’t feel the same way about Mickey, but then, he’s never really found Mickey that endearing.

Lip hears a slurred “c’mere” and some giggling and then there is more kissing. Which is fine, but anything more than that and he’s pulling this car over immediately. He really is in dad mode. He doesn’t want to spoil all their fun, he just doesn’t want to be anywhere near their fun while they’re having it.

The drive seems to take forever, all to the soundtrack of two very in love husbands who are making out as if it’s the first time they’ve ever done it. Lip can’t lie to himself, he’s a little jealous. He’d love a night like this with Tami - just the two of them, happy and silly and able to make out like teenagers. But that’s probably not going to happen anytime soon. Especially if she’s pregnant again. That’s a thought for another day though. Right now he needs to concentrate on Ian and Mickey.

He was hoping to just drop them off, but Lip realises, as he pulls into the apartment car park, that isn’t going to work. Because the first thing Ian says as the car comes to a stop is “let’s go swimming!”

“Yeah! Let’s fuck in the pool!” Mickey agrees excitedly, pulling on the car door and failing to open it.

Lip realises he needs to make sure they get to their apartment before they get themselves in trouble. He has visions of them being found floating face down in the pool, so he helps them both out of the car and firmly steers them towards the entrance to the apartment block.

“No swimming. You two are way too fucked up for that.” He ushers them through the open door into a well lit corridor, lined with doors to apartments and other doors to what he guesses are the offices and maintenance for the building.

“You just.....you just don’t wanna see Mickey without a shirt. In case you get all excited...again.” Ian is grinning, his face flushed.

“What?” Mickey barks, suddenly very interested in the handle of a door which he yanks up and down. There’s a sign that reads ‘private’ and it’s obviously locked but Mickey continues to yank at it for some reason Lip can’t fathom.

“He had a sex dream about you.” Ian is attempting to whisper, but it’s loud, oh so loud in the empty hallway. “I’m not supposed to say because it’s a secret.”

“Ian. What the fuck?” Lip sighs, exasperated.

“Ugh, gross.” Mickey gives up on trying to open the locked door, and turns to Lip with a disgusted look on his face. “Don’t fucking dream about me like that.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose. It was a fucking dream.” Lip realises his mistake as soon as the words come out of his mouth.

“It sure was!” Ian is still grinning. “A fucking dream. Where you fucked Mickey!” He bursts into laughter at his own joke, leaning against the wall.

Mickey still has that disgusted look on his face. “As if I would ever let you....” He shakes his head. “Fucking gross. I love Ian. Only wanna get fucked by Ian.”

Christ, Lip thinks, he needs to get them to their apartment, he doesn’t want to hear anymore of this kind of talk.

Mickey has taken Ian’s hands in his own, and Ian’s looking at Mickey like what he just said was very romantic. “Yeah, Lip, you can’t have him. He’s mine. My husband.”

“It was a dream. It doesn’t mean anything. I definitely do not want to have sex with Mickey. Ok? Let’s just get you two to your apartment. Now.” Lip pushes them firmly, and they stumble forward, still holding hands.

“Good. Besides...if I was...if I was single. Sure as fuck wouldn’t want to fuck you.....jabby.”

Lip frowns, “How do you know about that?”

“Oh, me and Tami....we talk. Gotta complain about you Gallaghers.”

“Jesus Christ. You two are friends now?”

“Yeah.” Mickey laughs. “Guess so.”

“Jabby!” Ian shouts gleefully, running slightly behind in the conversation, but with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what ‘jabby’ refers to.

“And you told him? Great.”

“Course I did, it was fucking funny.”

“It’s ok.” Ian pats Lip on the shoulder, trying to be reassuring. “I’m sure you’ll get better with practice.” Mickey lets out what Lip can only describe as a cackle.

“Jesus Christ, that was one time and it was a one off.” They are finally, finally, at the elevators and he practically punches the up button. He’s hasn’t been here before but he remembers Ian saying their apartment was on the second floor, so he trusts that’s right.

“In you go.” He herds them into the elevator and presses the ‘2’ button. And once again, they are on each other, furiously kissing. Lip thinks the elevator is moving much to slowly. He hits the ‘2’ button again. Mercifully, the elevator doors soon open on the second floor. But neither Mickey or Ian has noticed and Lip grabs Ian by the back of his coat and pulls him out, Mickey stumbling after him.

“Hey, hands off.” Mickey grabs for Ian, who Lip is dragging behind him as he purposefully strides down the corridor. He has to get them inside, he can’t take much more of this.

“He’s stealing me, Mickey!” Ian laughs, “Help! Help!” His voice echoes much too loudly around the corridor.

“I’ll...save you!” Mickey manages to spit out between laughs, almost doubling over.

“You can have him back when we get to your place? Ok.” Lip turns and looks over his shoulder. “Just come on Mickey, follow us.”

A door they are passing suddenly swings open, and a very annoyed older lady is standing there, cell phone in hand. “Everything alright? I heard someone say they needed help?”

“No, no. Everything’s fine.” Lip smiles, trying to look respectable. Which is hard because Ian and Mickey are giggling, red-faced and stumbling about. “They....they’ve just had a bit too much to drink and I’m helping them get home.”

“It’s our wedding anniversary!” Ian yells, throwing his arms in the air.

The woman looks distinctly unimpressed. “That’s very nice. But it’s late, you know. You can’t go around shouting for help if you don’t need it. Especially at this time of night!”

“Listen lady, if my husband-”

Lip interrupts before Mickey can finish whatever threat he’s about to make, “They know, and they’re very sorry. And I’m gonna make sure they are quiet right now.” He grabs Ian’s hand and then Mickey’s and uses all his strength to get them to start walking, as the woman shuts her door with one more disapproving glare. “Come on. Home. Now. Please.”

They get to the door of the apartment Lip thought they would never reach. “Keys?”

Ian frowns, as if this question is a difficult math problem on a test he didn’t study for. “Uh.” He slaps one hand to his chest, then the other and then begins to rummage around in his jacket pockets. “Uh. Hmmm....”

Mickey isn’t much help either. “Maybe....here?” He says, grabbing Ian’s crotch, which causes Ian to smile and giggle and get distracted.

“Come on, Ian. Where are the keys?”

“Oh. Yeah. Keys.” He eventually produces a set from his jacket which has far too many pockets for Lip’s liking or for his tolerance at this time in this never ending evening. “Keys!”

“Good. Great.” Lip snatches them, opens the door, and shoves them, gently - it is their anniversary after all, no matter how fucking annoying they are being - through the door, slamming it shut behind him as he follows them in. He lets out a deep breath, it felt like they would never get here.

The apartment is nice, new, modern. The kind of place he never would have imagined them living in. In fact, even though it’s not furnished properly yet, Lip can see it’s a really nice place. And he’s pleased, he wants them, especially Ian, to live somewhere good like this. They deserve it.

They’re standing in the middle of the empty living room, holding one another, swaying slightly. Ian’s hands move down Mickey’s back to rest on his ass. Better get out of here, Lip thinks to himself.

“You guys need to drink some water.” He starts to rummage around the pristine kitchen until he finds two glasses that he recognises from home...or rather, what’s no longer home, not really - the Gallagher house. There’s only two glasses, clearly they haven’t been shopping yet, he fills them both with water.

“Alright, lovebirds, drink up!” Lip holds the glasses out, but neither of them move. They’re just staring at one another, silently, with small smiles on their faces. “Not gonna leave till you have some water.”

They both put one arm out at the same time, because of course they do. Lip hands them their water and waits until they’ve both drunk their whole glasses.

Satisfied that he’s done everything he can, he makes a move to leave. “I’m going. Enjoy the rest of your anniversary.”

Ian is caressing Mickey’s face with one hand, the other barely holding the glass which is dangling at his side. “Thanks, Lip. Love you bro.”

“Love you too, asshole.” He turns to leave, but fuck it....Mickey is his brother-in-law, and even though he’s a real pain in the ass, he makes Ian happy and that’s the most important thing, and also they’re probably too drunk to remember what he’s going to say.... “And you too, Mick.”

“Gross. Stop fucking fantasising about me, Philip.” Mickey grumbles, never taking his eyes of Ian.

Lip laughs, and let’s himself out, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

#gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless #gallavich fic #ficlet #as always feel free to continue this or add to it!!

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y0itsbri · 3 years

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so ian and mickey get a cat in the future, of course.

it was a stray that just couldn't stay away whenever mickey would go outside for a smoke break outside their building. mickey was pretty quick to warm up to it, giving it pets and attention and pieces of his jerky. it was starting to get cold out and he couldn't stand to let the thing freeze out there by itself. he gave the cat a stern "don't be scratching or biting any of my shit" talking to when he first took it home and they've been besties ever since. there was only one accident of a knocked over plant pot but mickey swears it wasn't the cat's fault. ian has been demoted to Cuddle Buddy #2 as the cat curls up against mickey's feet or chest whenever it has the chance. mickey thinks it's hilarious when the cat gets the zoomies. meanwhile, ian is properly freaked the fuck out when he locks eyes with glowing orbs when he gets up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. mickey has somehow gotten the cat to do little tricks for treats. ian has tried but it just will not listen to him. he thinks mickey is the fucking cat whisperer.

although the cat doesn't listen to ian very much, they appreciate each other's presence. feeding the cat everyday at the same time forces ian to stick to a pretty good routine. he talks or sings to the cat every morning while he waits for the coffee to brew. he gets the cat little outfits, which it begrudgingly wears. mickey makes fun of it, "the fuck does your dad have you wearin' now? looks kinda stupid... but ya pull it off well at least. that makes two of us." he snaps a photo of the glaring cat and sets it as his lock screen.

the gallaghers never really had any pets growing up besides debbie and carl's quickly forgotten turtle and the experiments of a young psychopath carl. needless to say, most of them were pretty awkward around the cat at first.

lip almost trips over the damn cat nearly every time he visits. he swears the cat is doing it on purpose because it "senses fear" or some shit. mickey always gives him shit about being afraid of something that weighs like seven pounds and lip quickly reminds him that his "precious baby" has daggers for teeth and nails. he's been in enough fights that he doesn't need to lose to a fucking cat, too. lip decides that the cat won't leave him alone until he gives it attention and he pets the cat like how a dad pats a dog. they both feel a little better about each other after that.

debbie does the whole baby voice cooing at the cat, but it always manages to slink away and avoid her attempts to pet it. debbie eventually calls it a little demon cat and gives up. mickey may be warming up to the idea of having debbie as a sister-in-law, but he still finds it hilarious that the cat has a better bitch-o-meter than his own fucking cousin.

carl is slightly less awkward than the other gallaghers since he basically ran a doggy daycare in the basement for awhile there. the cat always goes to carl for the best ear scritches. they're silent companions who just so happen to be in the same room as each other all the time. he sometimes sneaks the cat a little bit of whatever food he is eating as if it's a dog. the cat doesn't mind at all though. mickey notices (because the cat is his baby, of course he notices) and he's like "hey c'mon carl, stop it i don't want a fuckin' garfield on my hands." carl agrees to comply, but really he just becomes sneakier in his attempts.

the cat takes to liam and franny pretty easily. franny draws a picture of her, uncle ian, uncle mickey, and their cat -- which is hanging front and center on the refrigerator. the kids spend a lot of their visits on the floor playing with the feather on a string or trying to get the cat to bat the balls back to them. liam always explains the rules of the games to both franny and the cat, who both listen intently and obediently. ian still cannot believe that the cat will listen to liam but not him.

when fiona comes back to visit, she's initially shocked that both ian and mickey have become cat people. they're hardly people people. but it's obvious that the cat is another perfect fit in the puzzle that is their family. it just makes sense.

#also cat names i think would be fitting : tabitha - berry - jade - indica (indy) - mj (em) - runt - pez - chip #i have some thoughts about the gallaghers x animals #my posts #shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #carl gallagher #lip gallagher #debbie gallagher #liam gallagher #franny gallagher #fiona gallagher #shameless headcanons #shameless headcanon #shameless fanfiction #shameless fanfic #shameless fic

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juliandev0rak · 3 years

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Bite Hard

Chapter One of I’m Your Villain

Words: 3019

Warnings: alcohol

It’s a typical Tuesday night, Cadmus is drunk and somewhere he really shouldn’t be.

One drink, two drinks, three drinks? He can’t keep track any more, and there’s really no point in counting, Cadmus decides. He’s half forgotten how he got to this tavern in the first place. There’s a man talking to him, someone whose name he can’t remember, who moves his hand to rest on Cadmus’ arm. He doesn’t really feel it, it’s as if he’s disconnected from his body, which is somewhat true. The body he’s in right now doesn’t exactly look like his own.

Being the son of the Comte D’Avronne means Cadmus isn’t able to blend in. Everywhere he goes in Avronne people seem to be afraid of him, and if he wants any fun he has to hide his identity. There are rumors that Cadmus is an assassin, a murderer. The rumors are true of course, but it’s not like he’s going to hurt some random townsperson.

Still, needs must. He’s concocted a disguise over the last few years, using his magic to change his features just enough so his visits to the local tavern remain unnoticed. Cadmus doesn't have much magic, despite his mother’s best attempts to teach him, but it’s enough to provide him cover. The illusion doesn’t do much, just turns his hair and eyes a few shades darker, but it’s a handy trick. Unfortunately, it’s an illusion that slips easily if he isn’t being careful enough.

The man talking to him laughs, bringing Cadmus’ attention to his very ruddy toned face, “Hey your hair’s changed color!” The sound of the man’s voice is grating and Cadmus can’t help but physically cringe. He notices the man’s eyes are a little too high up on his face and he thinks of his own eyes, they’re perfectly symmetrical like the rest of his face.

What’s the man’s name? Ryan? Brian? Something with an -ian for sure…

“Who cares,” Cadmus responds to his own question aloud, the man might have an obnoxious laugh but he’ll do, it’s not like they have to talk. He flips a longer lock of hair out of his eyes and realizes that his hair has indeed gone from brown back to its natural blond.

The man seems to think the response was for him and shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. Cadmus sighs and leans closer to the man, he’s so bored. “Do you want to go somewhere more… private?” Cadmus suggests, placing his hand on the man’s knee. If this guy doesn’t want him maybe that girl over by the bar? She’d been making eyes at him all night. It doesn’t really matter who wants to hook up with him in the side alleyway, so long as someone will.

The man seems eager enough, and they’re headed to the door when a hand claps down on his shoulder. Cadmus immediately grabs the arm and pushes it off as he turns around. His stance shifts and he’s about to draw his dagger when he realizes who’s standing in front of him. The spike of adrenaline subsides as he’s met with the familiar face of his best friend and captain of the castle guards, Alexander.

“Cadm- er, Jean.” Alexander stumbles, trying to remember the pseudonym Cadmus had assumed for the evening.

“What is it?” Cadmus tries to keep his voice light, but by the look on Alexander’s face his frustration is obvious. Things were just getting interesting until boring Alexander had showed up to ruin the fun.

“The Comte wants to see you.” Alexander gives Cadmus an appraising look and takes the half full glass Cadmus is still holding. He sets it down out of reach on a nearby table and Cadmus swears at him under his breath.

“Well of course he does, but he’s got shit timing. My lovely friend and I,” He gestures at Brian/Ryan, “were just about to fu-”

“Cadmus,” Alexander hisses in his ear, pulling him away from the man. “Your hair is blond you ass, you’re going to get caught.”

“Well I do look better blond,” Cadmus grins, running a hand through his shoulder length hair. His father’s been telling him to cut it shorter for weeks, but he thinks it looks nicer this way. Though really, he knows he looks nice any way.

“You’re drunk aren’t you? That’s our one rule and you broke it! We agreed on one drink, Cadmus.” Alexander looks frustrated, and the logical part of Cadmus’ brain understands. He knows he’s not fun to babysit.

“What, you’re not mad you’re just disappointed?” Cadmus says snarkily and Alexander huffs under his breath.

“What are you, five? The Comte said it’s urgent. You’ve got an assignment.”

“I just went out last week, can’t he give me one moment of peace?” Cadmus groans in complaint.

“I’ve heard the target is royalty, Cadmus,” Alexander says insistently.

“Oh.” Cadmus shakes his head slightly in an attempt to shake the foggy affects of alcohol from his brain, this changes things.

“Yes, oh. Your sister can only cover for you for so long, we need to get back before he goes looking for you.”

“Fine, fine, let’s go then.” Cadmus turns to look for Brian/Ryan and sees the man is already across the room talking to someone else. He sighs, a bit hurt that the man had lost interest so quickly.

“Let’s go,” Alexander pulls Cadmus by the arm and Cadmus pushes his hand away. “Your eyes have changed back too.”

Everyone in Cadmus’ family has the same bright blue eyes, they’re the telltale sign of a Durand. While his blond hair could be passed off as someone else, the eyes are a dead giveaway. He knows they need to leave. Still, he’d been having more fun talking to random strangers than he’s had all day, and he doesn’t want to go on another boring assignment even if it is royalty.

The tavern has grown quiet and he looks away from Alexander, noticing quite a few suspicious eyes trained on him. They wouldn’t start a fight, no, but he’d still prefer to get out before word gets to any other castle guards or his father. He hears a voice behind him say, “Is that Cadmus Durand?” and decides he’s outstayed his welcome.

“Alright well, lovely to see you all!” Cadmus calls to the crowd, giving a little mock bow, and then he runs.

It takes twenty minutes to run through town and up the hill to the castle, and by the time he and Alexander have arrived he’s begun to grow a bit nervous. Cadmus knows better than to leave the Comte waiting this long. The run in the cold night air had sobered him up at least, though he’d felt like he might be sick for a moment climbing all the steps up to the gates.

He smooths his clothes down as he walks towards the private wing of the castle and Alexander checks to make sure he’s looking like himself. He ensures that not a blond curl is out of place before proceeding. When they reach the door of the Comte’s office, his throne room for all intents and purposes, his sister Daphne is waiting outside.

“Daph,” Cadmus greets her, his nervous expression fading into a tight smile. Despite what he might be feeling he doesn’t let himself slip in front of her. She’s only sixteen, and though she’s well aware of the family’s darker dealings, it’s something he’d like to keep from her as much as possible.

“Cadmus!” At least she’s always happy to see him.

“How is he?”

“Same as always. Did you know he told me I couldn’t go out in the gardens anymore? He says it’s not safe. Why would it not be safe? It’s inside the walls!” Daphne clings to his arm as she rambles and under any other circumstance he’d be happy to listen to her talk, but he’s late.

He places a hand on hers and gives her a more genuine smile this time, “I’ll talk to him about it, I know how much you love your flowers.”

“Thank you!” She walks down the hall, practically skips, and he wonders at how someone could remain so cheerful in a place so full of death. The stone walls of the Durand castle practically seep blood, but Daphne and her garden keep the place alive. But now is not the time to ponder blood and flowers, he has a job to do.

Cadmus takes a moment to relax his face into a blank mask of composure and knocks sharply on the heavy wooden door.

“Enter.”

“Father.” Cadmus bows as he enters the room, biting his tongue to keep his tone respectful.

“You’re late.”

“I was training, Alexander had trouble finding me.” Cadmus looks up from his spot on the ground, raising his gaze to meet his father’s. The Comte D’Avronne sits behind his desk, his hands laced together and leaning back in his chair, completely at ease. It’s always a bit unnerving to look at him because of how alike they look, seeing the Comte is like seeing himself in thirty years. The Comte regards Cadmus critically with a raised eyebrow, and he’s glad Alexander had looked him over before he walked in.

“I trust that extra training will serve you well. You have a new assignment.” The Comte smiles, and it’s an expression that looks entirely at odds with his face. Cadmus waits for him to continue, he knows better than to ask questions or interrupt.

“The city of Merona is set to finalize a marriage alliance with Greythal, our rival as you well know.” He pauses to make sure Cadmus is listening, “Though we have tried other means of persuasion, it seems we must force Merona’s hand to ensure that Avronne’s power is retained. We’ll marry one of our own to the Duke of Merona, and we must ensure that the Princess of Greythal is no longer a problem.”

Cadmus sighs, yet another boring political maneuver. “Can we not just exile the girl? Or threaten war?”

“No, our resources are drained enough as it is. The Princess is almost of marrying age, and we simply cannot risk Greythal making an alliance with someone else.” His face slips into a frown as he talks, and he looks at Cadmus as though the fate of Greythal is somehow his fault.

“What’s the assignment?” Cadmus already knows, but decorum requires him to ask. He grits his teeth again to keep any sarcastic comments at bay, every moment spent in the presence of his father is tiresome.

“In four days time the princess is having a birthday party. You are to attend, take down the target, and leave unnoticed. Master Xiphos will have more instructions, and I do believe he has a new sword for you as well, should you need it.” When his father mentions the name of his old swordmaster his mood brightens.

Xiphos has been abroad for nearly a year, travelling all the way to Karnassos to bring back new materials and news from the west. Cadmus is eager to see him again, there are so few people he actually finds interesting.

“Understood.”

Something in his tone or expression must have seemed off, because his father’s frown deepens and he stands up from his desk. He comes to stand in front of Cadmus, resting a hand on his shoulder. Cadmus resists the urge to shove the hand off and simply keeps his expression blank as his father speaks. “Remember Cadmus, everything we do is for the good of this family, the good of this city.”

“Of course.” He’s relieved when the hand moves away.

The Comte’s tone is as cold as ice,“You will not fail me.”

“I won’t.” He never has and he never will, not necessarily for his father’s benefit, but because he hates to fail.

“You are dismissed.” He gestures to the door but Cadmus doesn’t move.

“I wanted to ask why Daphne is not allowed on the grounds?” Cadmus asks, ducking his head in deference to try to appease the Comte.

“It’s not safe. There could be any number of enemies prowling about, waiting for an opportunity to murder or ransom her.”

“So you’re planning to keep her locked inside the castle?” Cadmus does his best to keep his tone even, but no matter how hard he bites his tongue the frustration seeps out.

“You’d question my judgement?” His father doesn’t sound angry, he never does, but Cadmus knows a fire burns beneath the icy veneer, just as it does in him.

“Of course not father, I merely wondered whether she might be allowed to tend to her garden. Perhaps she could have a retinue of guards, Alexander would see to it.” He thinks of how his sister always looks when she’s out in the garden, her dress caked in mud and her face lit up by a smile. She’ll be devastated if she’s not allowed to go outside.

“That is out of the question, it’s too dangerous given the business with Greythal. And as it is, Daphne is far too old for something so frivolous. We have groundskeepers to keep the gardens.” The Comte sounds almost amused, and when Cadmus looks up he sees that eerie smile pasted on again. Most people find his father charming, but Cadmus can see right through it.

“But-”

“Not another word. You have a job to do.” His tone brooks no argument, and Cadmus knows it’s futile at this point.

“Yes, father.”

“Get to it.” He gestures to the door again and this time Cadmus obeys, bowing as he exits.

Cadmus walks quickly down the hall, keeping his shoulders back and his chin up in case his father is watching. He nearly jumps when Alexander pops out of the alcove where he’d been waiting. His friend places his hand on his shoulder again and Cadmus pushes it off with a huff, people have been doing that far too much this evening.

“You have got to stop sneaking up on me like that, one of these days I’ll have a sword drawn and your hand will end up disconnected from your body,” Cadmus says irritably. All he wants is to sleep, or perhaps return to the tavern to see if Ryan/Brian is still around. He could use another drink.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I could take you in a fight, Cadmus,” Alexander scoffs.

Cadmus’ lips pull up in a half smile as he paces a circle around his friend. “When I return from my assignment we should put that to the test. I’d love to see you get your ass handed to you.”

“You’re so confident for a man who once slipped in mud while dueling.”

“That was ages ago, and it had just rained! There was no way around it,” He argues, his tone defensive though he tries for nonchalance.

Alexander laughs, “You looked like a pig rolling around in the mud like that.”

“Shall I remove your tongue instead of your hand, then?” Cadmus hisses through gritted teeth, his hand moves to the dagger at his belt.

“Now, now, there’s no need for that. What’s got you in such a bad mood? What exactly was the assignment?” Alexander’s still grinning, knowing that Cadmus isn’t actually about to pull a knife on his oldest and dearest friend.

“Some princess from Greythal. Should be easy.” Cadmus continues down the hall and Alexander trails behind him.

“You always say that.”

“It’s always easy,” Cadmus laughs.

“I’m sure it is for you, Cadmus Durand, the world’s greatest assassin.” Alexander’s tone is mocking and it makes Cadmus stop to look at him.

“Nobody calls me that.” “That’s a good thing, you don’t need the ego boost.” Alexander claps him on the shoulder and Cadmus rolls his eyes.

“Don’t you have duties to attend to Alexander?” He’s impatient now, his room is right around the corner and if he doesn’t get a bed or a pint of ale soon he might just lose it.

“Just wanted to make sure you survived your meeting with the Comte!” “He wouldn’t risk hurting me, I’m too valuable.”

“Well let’s hope you stay that way what with Alastor being... Alastor.” Alexander’s words fade to a whisper by the end of the sentence, like he’s afraid Cadmus’ younger brother could be hiding in the walls eavesdropping. For all Cadmus knows, he probably is.

“Don’t bring up that prick, you’ll only make my mood worse.” Cadmus catches himself scanning the dark hallway behind him, and turns back around, determined not to let the pale specter of his scheming brother haunt him now.

“I’ll see you for training tomorrow?” Alexander asks as they reach Cadmus’ door. “Same as always.”

When Cadmus finally enters his room he moves to the mirror first. He looks tired, the beginnings of dark circles forming under his eyes, and that simply won’t do. He realizes he’s been clenching his jaw since the moment he entered the castle, and he relaxes the muscles, his jaw popping from the release of tension. He feels something on the bottom of his leg and looks down to see a grey snake coiling around his ankle.

“Agatha darling, what have I said about crawling on my shoes? They’re Venterrean leather, they cost a fortune.” Cadmus sighs, reaching down to pick her up. She sticks her tongue out and hisses at him in greeting as he strokes the top of her head. He’s pensive as he looks out the window into the dark moonlit grounds.

“I’m leaving again, soon. I think I'll bring you with me this time.”

Though he’d claimed this job would be easy Cadmus has a feeling that was a lie. He’s always been able to trust his instincts, they’ve kept him alive for the last nearly thirty years, and right now his instincts are screaming that this is a trap. Something will go wrong, of that he’s certain. He just needs to ensure that he ends up on top.

Cadmus isn’t too worried, he always succeeds- why should this time be any different?

#I'm Your Villain #cadmus durand #cadmus chapter one yayyy #bastard boy i love youuuu #narcissus himself

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louloubarnes-99 · 3 years

Text

Darcy the Librarian part 1

Darcy x Steve x Bucky nsfw (eventually! omg)

this is 7k 🥰✨

“Casey, I’ve read this sentence six times.”

Darcy pulled the earphones out and gave the younger woman her full attention. The poor thing was shrugging helplessly, her hand covering the mouthpiece of the landline receiver.

“It’s Ned, I’m sorry –”

Darcy took the phone, swapping seats with her, putting the phone to her ear as she tried to remedy the situation.

“Hello, Ned? It’s Darcy.”

The man on the other end was already yelling, sounding frustrated.

“Hello? Can I – Am I calling the foot doctor? Hello?”

“Ned! I don’t think you can hear me! It’s Darcy. Hello? Ned?”

“Darcy?”

“Yes, it’s Darcy,” she half-yelled, giving Casey a thumbs-up. “You’ve got an appointment with us tomorrow at 11. We’ll see you then!”

“Eleven?” Ned repeated. “Okay. I’ll see ya.”

Darcy hung up and she let out a low sigh, swapping seats with Casey again. She glanced at the clock, then at the screen in front of her. It was mid-morning at the podiatry clinic, both of the receptionists on duty running steadily through the routine. Darcy had been writing another letter to be sent out for auditing purposes, and if it was her working alone she’d be doing them in her sleep. She’d had plenty of dreams of her writing reports and doing work that was piling up and up. Today she was training Casey, reviewing what she’d already written, listening to the Dictaphone, her boss’ voice in her ear.

“Please confirm Ned’s appointment, Casey. The right-click, yeah…”

Casey sat back, giving a little smile when she was done. She was beginning to remember everything, and Darcy could remember that distinct relief. That Thank God something’s finally going right kind of feeling. She didn’t want to burst her bubble, but she found several errors in the letter Casey had typed out.

“No, it’s hyperkeratosis,” she said, picking up her pencil and crossing out the spelling mistake. She tried not to see Casey’s face fall. “And onychauxic.”

She handed it back to Casey, standing up.

“All good. Just fix those and we’ll send it off. I’m going on my break.”

She patted Casey’s shoulder and stepped away, walking down the corridor to the break room, seeing Patrick sitting at the table with his sandwich in his hands.

“Hey,” he mumbled, mouth full. “She doing okay?”

Darcy made a so-so movement with her hand. She hoped he’d keep that to himself, since Casey was his wife’s little cousin. Patrick was the podiatrist, and probably the best boss Darcy had ever had. He was at least one of the friendliest ones she’d had, pulling out the chair beside him for her to sit down with her yoghurt she retrieved from the fridge.

“She’s fine,” she amended, pulling up the chair as she sat down, the legs scraping across the linoleum. “You can tell Linda she’s doing a great job.”

Patrick gave a little chuckle, shaking his head. “I swear, I won’t bring another one like her in again, I like you too much.”

“Well, maybe not so much when I abandon you at 5.30.”

She was referring to what she’d already reminded him of twice that day. She needed to leave a little early tonight because Ian asked her to that morning when she jumped out of bed. Her boyfriend didn’t ask her to do that often, to come home early, unless it was a special occasion. She had already read into it enough to start thinking about engagement announcements. She didn’t want to call her mother but she knew she’d be the first one of her family to know. She hoped Ian didn’t cry too much, because Darcy knew she would when he got down on one knee. She always liked hearing how other people got together, even when people said “oh we met online”. She wanted to ask what exactly drew people to one another.

She took a spoonful of her yogurt and shoved it into her mouth, smirking at Patrick.

“How’d you and Linda meet?”

“Group of friends, mutual friends at a bar,” he murmured, looking away. He blinked. “Christ. I think about that time, all the uncertainty, and now…”

He’d been married several years. Darcy didn’t necessarily like Linda very much, since she was perpetually condescending and always acted like work was what kept Patrick from her, and therefore Darcy was in part to blame, but she thought Patrick seemed happy with her.

Also he’d paid for her boob job last year, not that they ever spoke about it, but Darcy more than noticed those things when she was at his fortieth birthday party last year.

“I feel like we’ve been married longer than we’ve known each other,” he murmured. “I know that doesn’t make sense.”

“I get it,” Darcy said, ducking her head, smiling. “Me and Ian met seven years ago, and I can’t remember life without him. I don’t remember how I used to feel. It’s so weird.”

Patrick nodded, finishing his next mouthful.

“I was a kid when I met him,” she added, rolling her eyes. “How’d you propose?”

“Didn’t really, sort of decided it together,” Patrick murmured. “I didn’t get down on one knee, it was after – uh…”

Darcy watched his face change, his cheeks flushing, and she began to chuckle.

“Yeah, we were both in a really good mood, you could say.”

“Right,” Darcy said, laughing. “Good to know.”

They lapsed into silence and Patrick nodded, chewing. He finished the rest of his food and balled up the plastic wrapping to throw away, checking his watch.

“I better get back.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “I’ll be right out.”

He paused at the sink after he washed his hands, drying them on the towel that hung over the oven handle.

“Hey, congratulations, when it does happen,” he said, and Darcy looked up.

He was smiling at her and she returned it, feeling a familiar warmth in her stomach.

“Thanks, Pat,” she murmured.

He left her there and she watched him leave. Unable to truly be professional, her eyes fell to his rear as he went out the door. He wore forty well. She knew his schedule, she knew what he ate for the most part, and she knew that he worked out. If she met him on the street, she’d think he was some kind of sports psychologist or physical therapist if he told her he was a doctor. His clientele was mostly elderly people, the majority of them diabetic, and feet was the last thing that came to mind where Patrick was concerned.

Darcy’s best friend Jane had the pleasure of meeting him once last year, grinning at him like she couldn’t stop herself, and ever since then he was Hot Doctor, or Hot Boss when she and Darcy spoke on the phone.

He was very handsome, and very kind to Darcy, considering how much shit she put him through for the first six months she was there. The office manager had quit, the archives were a mess, and Darcy wasn’t going to put up with it. She drew a line in the sand and fixed so much, and made sure it wouldn’t be so disorganized ever again. It had happened soon after she finished her library studies diploma, and she’d been hoping to use her new qualification somewhere else, but she still got to flex her diligent cataloging skills from time to time.

She returned to the front desk five minutes later, after sending Jane a text:

I think Ian is proposing tonight

She couldn’t keep the thrill from coursing through her, grabbing her bag from under the desk with her phone. She smiled at Casey.

The waiting room had an elderly couple waiting, the Needlers, who both rose their hands to wave goodbye to her as she slipped out down the corridor.

She stuck her head in Patrick’s office, seeing him throw out a plastic sheet, preparing for the next client. She knocked on the doorframe and he spun around.

“You’re gone?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I have my phone in case, y’know… something blows up. Or if Casey blows something up.”

“Have a good night,” he said, and she smiled. “I’ll have a beer in your honor.”

She laughed, turning away and walked out, her stomach flipping. On the drive over, she tried to keep herself calm, but she kept bopping along to the songs on the radio. She kept watching the people in the street. She saw a couple with their toddler in a stroller with a dog on a leash.

She could picture it. A few years ago she’d have rolled her eyes at such a suggestion – her, as a married woman with a kid? But now she’d settled into the podiatrist clinic, she could feel things were stable enough. It wasn’t so crazy. People fell in love all the time, and stayed together...

She pulled up at the apartment block, switching off the car, taking a few deep breaths. She got out and walked up, seeing kids playing in the street.

She paused in the hallway, taking out her deodorant to spritz as subtly as she could. It was August, and her A/C was still broken – she was saving up – and she didn’t want any memory of the proposal to be tainted by her body odor. She stuck the can back in her bag and unlocked the front door, stepping inside and looking around.

“Hi!”

She was tempted to yell out “honey, I’m home” but she was so excited she blurted out the first thing that came to mind, and Ian appeared a few seconds later, his hands in his pockets as she moved down the hallway.

She moved to kiss him on the cheek and he took out a hand, touching her arm.

“I got here as quick as possible. Patrick wasn’t too swamped, thank fuck…”

She gave a little laugh, taking his hand in hers, their fingers twining together. He walked with her in silence, until they reached the living room, and he promptly let her go, gesturing to the person sitting on the couch.

“Darcy, you remember Amy.”

Amy was a petite blonde woman, her hair so light it was almost white. She wore a pastel pink dress, looking like she’d come straight from a garden party. Darcy tried to place her and finally did – she was a friend of theirs through Ian’s sister. She flashed a wide smile, and Darcy watched as Ian moved to sit beside Amy.

“Hi,” Darcy said, shaking her head a little to right herself, trying not to feel the disappointment begin to settle in. She’d completely mistaken this occasion. It was unusual that he didn’t tell her it was Amy coming over. She felt like she’d be better prepared.

She froze as Ian’s hand slipped down to rest on Amy’s thigh, squeezing it.

“Could you sit down, Darce?”

“What’s going on?” she said, staring at his hand. She looked at Amy, seeing her smile falter.

Ian turned his head to look at Amy.

“Darling, could you get her a glass of water?”

Amy nodded, standing up. Darcy gaped after her. She knew where the glasses were in her apartment.

“I was hoping we’d talk about it like adults,” Ian said, his voice soft.

She snapped her eyes to meet his.

“I appreciate you getting here quickly tonight.”

Amy returned with a glass of water, handing it to Darcy. She held it, staring at Ian and Amy on the couch.

“Sit down.”

“I don’t want to take this sitting down,” Darcy blurted. “Whatever this is.”

“I’m moving out,” Ian said, his tone changing. He was edging toward defensive. “I thought it was better that way. I’m moving into Amy’s place.”

She woke up this morning with a completely different person. At least, it felt that way. Darcy could feel she’d gone into shock, unable to feel much at all as he went on in his English lilt.

“I’ll come by when you’re at work, to take my things. We started packing this afternoon.”

Darcy studied Amy’s hand resting in her lap, her nails squared off and clean.

“How long has this been happening?”

Ian stopped mid-sentence, something about an internet bill that Darcy had tuned out. He blinked, clearing his throat.

“Uh, I suppose about eighteen months.”

She let out a breath, looking down at the glass in her hand.

“Okay.”

“I know it’s hard to hear –”

“You don’t know how it feels to hear this,” Darcy said, looking up again, staring him down. “You have no idea.”

She hadn’t been cheated on before. She’d seen her mother go through it.

“Those trips, the ones to California?” she asked, looking at Amy.

The blonde nodded. “Yes.”

“Well,” Darcy murmured, finally putting the glass to her lips to drink, unblinking. “That makes sense.”

He had a West Coast franchise she knew nothing about. She let out a harsh little chuckle, only because it was the only other thing she could do instead of crying. She felt her eyes prickle.

“We’ll go,” Ian said, glancing at Amy.

In that moment, Darcy truly hated them both. She wasn’t sure who she’d attack first if there were no repercussions. Ian would be harder to overpower, since he had the reach of a basketball player. Attacking Amy would be satisfying if she managed to make her scream. She looked elf-like in her features, except for the ample cleavage she had partially hidden beneath her dress.

He was her type, then. Little and curved in all the right places. Except she seemed to be daintier than Darcy ever could be, moving off the couch gracefully, moving into the corridor.

Ian lingered, and Darcy clutched the glass a little tighter, glaring at him.

“Darcy, I know it’s not right –”

“It’s not,” Darcy bit out.

“- but I wanted to be honest.”

Why couldn’t he have broken up with her months ago, years ago? She thought of the last time they had sex and it had another dimension to it – he’d teared up at the time, and she thought he was in one of his rare overwhelmed moments. At the time, she’d comforted him, thinking he’d be embarrassed by being overcome with love.

He’d been crying because he felt guilty.

“So when you came inside me the other night –”

Ian’s eyes widened slightly and she hoped Amy heard every word.

“- you didn’t think that was the ideal time to be honest?”

“Darcy –”

“Whatever, you’re in love. You don’t want anyone to think you’re an asshole,” she muttered, scowling at him. “But are an asshole, Ian. You’re an asshole.”

He drew back, his jaw set. He let out a sigh.

“Fine, I’m gone.”

“Go,” she snapped, and she turned away, doing her best to suppress the sob that bubbled up.

When she heard the front door shut and she knew she was alone, she let out a gasp, the echoing quiet of the apartment haunting her. She put down the water and sunk to the floor, putting her face in her hands.

She spent the night looking back on seven years, wondering when he decided to betray her. She tried to think of a moment that was the catalyst. Was it when they moved in together? Eighteen months ago she was at the podiatrist clinic. Ian was working for the investment firm.

She remembered they told each other they were soulmates. She’d never been closer to someone in her entire life.

He’d hardly spoken to Amy the night they met her. It was his sister’s engagement party and she was a random stranger in the background, someone Darcy had never thought she should note. Ian was her person, and she was his.

Amy?

She hardly slept, crying and fuming, rolling around, so alone. She wanted a time machine. She wanted ignorance. She wanted to find the moment when he switched. She still wanted him, despite how confused and furious she felt.

How had she not seen this coming? Had he hinted at it, ever? Had he laid clues somewhere for her to find? She’d never suspected it. He was always such a dork, he had no ability to flirt with anyone but her in his clumsy, awkward way.

She dragged herself down to the clinic and opened up for the morning, feeling puffy-eyed and exhausted. She heard Patrick come in and walk up behind her like he did every day, and she thought of what to say, every option sounding so humiliating and stupid.

“Hi,” she murmured, unable to force the smile. “Your files are there for the morning.”

Her voice was rough and she cleared her throat. She kept her eyes on the screen, pulling up the emails. She began scrolling and heard Patrick pick up the stack of files.

“Bit of a rush today?”

“Yeah,” she replied, nodding. She was thankful that he wasn’t asking her anything personal. He sounded subdued.

She turned around, seeing him search her face and she smiled, a little one that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Ned Campbell will probably run late. His daughter’s meant to pick him up and she’s in Buffalo.”

“I’ll try to work around it,” Patrick replied, and he gave a little smile of his own. “Get yourself a coffee, okay?”

“Yeah, I’m on it,” she said, standing up fast, walking out before he could say anything else.

She covered her mouth as she waited for the coffee to pour through the machine. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue when she returned to her desk, hearing the first clients come in.

“Shelly, hi,” she called to the little old lady. “You didn’t bring Buffy!”

Buffy was her dog. Shelly waved at Darcy, shaking her head.

“Too hot in the car. And on the pavement, too…”

“Right, that’s a good call,” Darcy said.

She was able to lapse into the role soon enough, except every half an hour or so she’d come back to the realization that last night was not a dream and she’d blink up at the ceiling. It was harder when Casey came in, fifteen minutes late, her smile dropping when she saw no ring on Darcy’s finger.

“Bummer,” she said. “I brought you prosecco.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” Darcy said, waving her off. “We… we broke up, actually.”

Casey’s eyes bulged and she scooted closer to Darcy, her mouth falling open.

“No! Why? What happened?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Darcy said, and she went back to the paperwork in the pile next to her, scanning the text. “We need to work on this letter together.”

She took her lunch break later than usual, but she wasn’t able to avoid Patrick, since Casey passed on the bad news. His eyes were trained on her as she slipped into the chair next to him.

“Are you alright, Darcy?” he asked, his voice quiet.

“I don’t need to go home,” she murmured.

She opened her yogurt and scooped some out, taking a mouthful. It tasted too sweet. In truth, she wanted a stiff drink, but this would have to do for now. She realized she hadn’t answered his question.

“I’ll be okay,” she added.

“Are you sure?” Patrick asked, and he looked toward the doorway. “We could manage, if you want to go…”

“I’ll stay,” she said, patting his hand on the table. “I might even stay back, there’s shit to do.”

Her cursing always made him smile at her and he didn’t disappoint. They ate in silence, until Darcy heard Casey calling for her, sounding out of sorts.

The rest of the afternoon flew by, and Darcy sent Casey home, telling her she’d do the end of day banking and paperwork. Casey gave her a little sympathetic hug that made Darcy want to shove her away, but instead she patted her shoulder twice before they drew apart.

“You know, if you need someone to talk to, I’m always here,” Casey whispered. “I’m the one all my girlfriends talk to.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks,” Darcy murmured, trying her best to grin and bear it.

Casey held up the little bottle of prosecco, enough for two drinks, handing it to Darcy.

“Thanks,” Darcy said again.

When she was finally alone she let her head fall onto the desk, hitting it there a couple times, sighing when she sat up again. She grabbed the prosecco, twisting it open and put it to her lips, taking a long gulp. She added up the cash in the till, taking sips from the little bottle, moving steadily through the work.

“Hey, Darce?”

Patrick was calling to her from down the corridor and she stopped midway through shutting down her computer.

“Yeah?”

He didn’t answer and she frowned, ducking down to grab her belongings, snatching her prosecco before trudging down the corridor, stepping into his office.

Patrick was sitting back in his chair, a beer open, his sleeves pushed down to his elbows. His eyes fell to Darcy’s bottle and he smirked.

“Glad to see I’m not the only one who can drink on the job,” he murmured.

“Yeah.”

She walked in, throwing her bag on the floor as she sat in the special chair, putting her bottle to her lips again. Technically, neither of them were working.

“How long will you stay back?” she asked, Patrick’s back to her once more as he opened his emails up again, scrolling down.

He gave a little shrug. “I dunno. Don’t really want to go.”

He clicked off, turning again, and Darcy watched him move closer, looking at her sneakers. She’d replaced her kitten heels with them, since no-one was meant to be impressed by her after 5PM, at least no clients.

She nodded, thinking of having to drag herself back to the empty apartment, to see the photos on the shelves and the two sets of everything all over the place. Ian had left his toothbrush in his hurry yesterday, and that morning she’d contemplated scrubbing the toilet bowl with it and not telling him.

“I don’t wanna go home,” she whispered.

Patrick got up and Darcy stared at him, sitting back in the chair as he moved toward her, his hand coming up…

“Darcy –”

“What’re you doing?” she cut in, and she felt his hand touching her face, tracing her cheekbone.

He’d never come this close to her before. She’d given him a hug before, like at his birthday party, but this felt like something beyond a platonic touch. He was watching her, licking his lips nervously.

“We could maybe – I thought, I-I…”

“Patrick,” she whispered, and he lowered his face to meet hers, pulling her into an embrace.

She felt his lips brush against her neck and she went still.

“Patrick. Pat. Honey –”

“God, I want you,” he breathed, and he drew back, searching her face. “I think you and Ian breaking up was a sign, for me to finally do something…”

“What are you talking about? Since when?” Darcy said, her eyes widening.

“Since always,” he said, and he kissed her, a peck on the lips.

Darcy’s face felt hot and she felt like she couldn’t breathe, her heart racing as he kissed her again, deeper, his tongue pressing into her mouth as he moaned.

“I love you,” he breathed, pulling back, and Darcy shook her head.

“You don’t love me,” she whispered.

“Yes, I do,” he said, and he kissed her neck, moving down.

Darcy kept still as his hand went under her skirt, reaching between her thighs, and she was pulled back the second his fingers brushed the seam of her, over the crotch of her underwear.

“I have to go,” she yelped, and she pushed him against his chest, stumbling off the chair and grabbing her bag from the floor.

“Darcy, can we talk about this?” he said, and she shook her head. He was sitting on the floor, reality catching up with him, too. “Oh, fuck…”

He passed a hand over his face and Darcy closed her eyes to steady herself.

“I won’t come in tomorrow,” she said, and he nodded.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he said, and she nodded, just trying to get out the door, inching toward it. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“Please don’t,” Darcy breathed, and she ducked out, feeling the blood rushing in her ears as she fled, the door slamming behind her.

She got to her car and slammed the door shut, breathing heavily as she tried to understand what the fuck had just happened. And she felt, beneath it all, that she was turned on.

“Oh, God,” she gasped, putting her face in her hands, letting her face rest on the steering wheel.

She tried to think of what to do, her mind going to that office, picturing racing back in and confronting Patrick by climbing on top of him and kissing him. The last 24 hours had been hell, and she might be lonely enough to do that – but she knew, not even deep down, that she’d hate herself for it. He was married, for fuck’s sake.

“Oh, God,” she said again with a groan.

She shoved the keys in the ignition and took off down the street, flipping through the channels on her radio until she found a song she knew.

She began to sob as she sat at the traffic lights, Angel Of The Morning unable to drown her out. A woman stared as she crossed the road, since Darcy made such a racket. She cranked up the speakers louder, her car shuddering with the bass.

She bought a frozen pizza and a giant family-sized Caesar salad, before stopping by the liquor store, where she grabbed two cold 40s and retreated to her apartment. She drank and ate while she watched Love Actually and cat videos, growing more miserable the drunker she got.

She fumbled for her phone the following morning, her head throbbing with the hangover headache she sustained, and she saw Jane was FaceTiming her as she squinted down blearily at her phone.

“Hey – what the fuck, what happened to you?”

“I guess the radio silence could, um, be a red flag,” Darcy mumbled, rubbing her eyes. She didn’t remember taking her makeup off, so there was a high chance that she was resembling a raccoon.

Jane looked good, the sun in her hair, her brow furrowed with concern.

“Uh, Ian left me. And my boss tried to hook up with me,” Darcy said, and Jane’s eyes bulged.

“Oh, Darcy. Darcy –”

“I don’t want the –” Darcy waved around, the movement a terrible idea in her condition. “- fuss. I’m fine. I drank too much last night, but I’ve got the day off.”

Thinking about having to make herself go back tomorrow had her filled with dread so sudden and shame-filled that she shut her eyes, groaning.

“You should get another job.”

“Yeah, probably,” she muttered. “But where? I don’t have any references.”

“Put me down.”

“I can’t keep doing that. I helped you out one summer. I need Patrick…”

Jane’s lips were pressed together in a thin, grim line. Darcy hated that she tended to only hear about her problems, never good news. She hoped she’d be telling her she was going to be her Maid of Honor. That hopeful, pleasant little world felt so far away. Darcy sighed.

“I’ll ask around. Some places are trying to hire new librarians for the new school year. They’re going back soon.”

“Right,” Darcy said, but she didn’t think much would come from it.

She was a qualified technician with limited experience. She didn’t know the right people, and she knew it was all about networking. She learned that far too late, which was how she ended up at Patrick’s office instead of in a library.

“Seriously, I’ll check for you. Ian left…?”

“He did, he went to stay with his girlfriend.”

“What?” Jane snapped, appalled. “Since when would he -? That fucking weasel –”

“It’s Amy, his sister’s friend. Go on Instagram, she’s got tits out to –”

Darcy gestured holding two heavy things in her hands, shrugging.

“Well, they’re out like mine…”

“You can’t stay there,” Jane said. “It’s full of Ian.”

Darcy picked up the remnants of her Old English 800 that sat by her bed and took a swig, making a face. She tried to remember last night and only could get snapshots of things.

“Darcy?”

“Yeah. Just – moving? A new job? I don’t wanna do that again…”

Jane went quiet and Darcy felt a wave of dread like yesterday, her eyes misting. She’d known Jane longer than she’d known Ian. She wondered if she’d be able to tell her what she was like before he came around.

“Darcy, it’s going to be okay.”

“Yeah, well,” Darcy whispered, her voice thin. “It’s gonna have to be.”

She nursed the hangover, cleaned up the mess of the leftover pizza, the empty salad carton, and the empty bottles. She did laundry, threw things into boxes, and tore up pictures.

By the late afternoon, she sent an email through to Casey, informing her that she was taking tomorrow off as well. She tried to not think about the clinic falling to pieces without her there.

She changed by the hour. She’d be destructive and throwing Ian’s belongings around, ripping up mementos while playing loud music through the TV, and then she’d be wracked with sobs and wishing he was there to hold her.

She looked at the classifieds and tried to find somewhere to go – she wasn’t sure how desperate the situation was when she didn’t have a job to go back to, not if she wasn’t going to show up again on Monday. It felt less likely with each hour that passed on that Friday.

She called up landlords the Saturday, feeling wretched, since the last time she didn’t have to do this alone. She’d had Ian, and the process was shared. She wished she had someone to bear that weight with her, but she knew she had no choice. She had a fleeting moment of clarity – she should move out and sleep in her car! Then she reeled at the thought of being that alone and vulnerable in the world.

She found a listing an hour away from her and took the plunge, calling the number. In the rush, she asked to see the place as soon as possible. The owner sounded friendly enough, maybe a little surprised that she was insisting on seeing the advertised piece of shit.

“How much is the bond?” Darcy asked, within a few minutes of being there.

The owner was a middle-aged woman named Maureen, who for whatever reason didn’t seem bothered by the stifling heat that was affecting Darcy. She was sweating through her shirt, dripping down her bare legs.

“It’ll be about eleven-hundred,” replied Maureen. She frowned. “Do you mind me asking what the rush is, hon?”

“I’m not fleeing, like, a bounty hunter or something,” Darcy said, and Maureen didn’t laugh. “I, uh, ended a relationship.”

She got a few texts that morning from Ian, asking when he could come over to get more of his things. She’d told him she’d be out for a few hours, when in truth she’d packed up most of her things when she could sleep last night and had shoved them all into her car, ready to escape the apartment as soon as possible. She’d even taken the key off of her chain and left it on the table.

“Can I move in today?”

“Sure,” Maureen said. “You got cash?”

“I can go get some.”

Darcy departed, came back ten minutes later and Maureen handed her the keys, giving her a shrewd look when she was done counting the notes Darcy laid in her unturned palm. She signed the tenancy agreement, handing it back to Maureen, waiting for the signal that everything was okay.

She rose her fingers to give Maureen a cautious peace sign, a little smile forming.

“Yeah? We good? Awesome.”

She only cried later that night, nursing her beer as she heard the echoes off life outside the walls.

She got a phone call on the Monday, when she’d been expecting Patrick chasing after her, only to find an unknown number on the display.

“Hello?” she said when she picked up, shifting to sit up on her elbows.

She’d slept on the floor in her sleeping bag. She hadn’t bought a mattress yet. She was close to asking for money from her mother, who had only been told the bare minimum about the breakup with Ian.

“Hi, am I speaking to Darcy Lewis?”

She didn’t recognize the voice. It wasn’t Patrick’s wife as far as she could discern, and she cleared her throat.

“Uh, yeah. This is she.”

“Great, I was wondering if you could come in for a meeting. My name is Maria Hill, I work at Sacred Heart –”

“I’m sorry?”

“Doctor Foster passed on your resume, and we’re hoping to find someone to help us with the library at our school. Is this a bad time?”

Darcy began to crawl out of the sleeping bag as fast as possible, looking around, before taking the phone away from her ear to see the time. It was after 10AM and she wondered if it was that obvious she’d been sleeping.

“This is a great time, Maria, thank you for calling me,” Darcy said, frantically snatching her bra from the floor, looking around for her pants. “I would love to meet.”

“Is today too soon, or -?”

“I can-I can do today,” Darcy said. “Whereabouts?”

Maria gave her the address and Darcy made a vague affirming sound, pretending she knew exactly where it was. She walked over to her laptop on the kitchen bench and flipped it open, Googling the name of the school as Maria confirmed a time.

“See you then.”

“Yes, I’m looking forward to it,” Darcy replied, promptly hanging up and scrolling through the search results.

A “rich tradition, with Christian values”, the website read. The children on the homepage wore navy and yellow uniforms.

“What the fuck,” Darcy muttered, making a face.

She pulled up at the school’s front parking lot, stepping out in her pencil skirt, hoping she hadn’t sweated through the sharp blazer she wore on top of her silk blouse.

She shoved her feet into her kitten heels and grabbed her handbag, looking around.

It was a quiet street, which was understandable for the time of year. No-one would be around, except maybe maintenance staff, and Darcy’s car was the only one parked there. She felt her phone buzz and she checked it, seeing Ian texting her back:

What the fuck????

He must have found her key, and the note that told him the lease was his problem to solve. She turned off her phone, shoving it back into her bag as she took a deep breath, walking up the front steps.

She knocked, trying to peer into the stained-glass window in the door. It was trying to see through a piece of boiled candy and she stood back, glancing over her shoulder. There was loud, distant banging sound that made her jump and Darcy went rigid, eyes wide.

The door burst open and she startled again, the sweat on her brow dripping down.

A woman with a short brown ponytail met her eye, offering her hand.

“Darcy?”

“Yeah,” she replied, taking her hand to shake. “Maria?”

“Yes,” she said. ��You find everything okay?”

“Yeah, am I – can I park here?”

“You probably could get a spot in the teachers’ one around the back, but we use both during the summer anyway. Follow me.”

Darcy nodded, watching as Maria turned her back and walked inside. The front hallway was dimly lit, and Darcy was hit with the scent of paint and dust. She saw a large painting of Mary holding baby Jesus and tried not to react to it, her eyes swivelling over the walls as they walked down the hall into a larger corridor.

“Classrooms,” Maria said, gesturing. “Kindergarten down here and then first grade. I’ll take you in somewhere here…”

“I kinda heard a loud, uh, ruckus earlier?” Darcy said, and Maria glanced at her, her brow lifting, and she smirked.

“A ruckus?” she repeated.

“Was that not an appropriate word –?”

There was a second bang, much louder, unadulterated by the school’s walls. Darcy flinched, while Maria only glanced toward the sound, vaguely interested.

“That’s Mr. Barnes, he’s moving things around,” she murmured. She smirked again. “He’s the ruckus.”

She pushed open a door marked 1R and Darcy followed her. She was met with a couple dozen tiny desks, all of them lowered, with tiny chairs, sitting in a horseshoe shape. There were posters for the alphabet and numbers on the walls, along with a painting of Jesus above the clock, his eyes fixed on Darcy as she moved to copy Maria, who was grabbing a regular-sized chair from the front of the classroom.

“I was sent your resume at a pretty good time, all things considered,” she said, and Darcy nodded, looking away from spooky Jesus, only to see a photograph of the Pope waving at her on the whiteboard.

Maria didn’t seem to notice how distracted Darcy was.

“Our situation has changed a lot in the last semester, even in the last couple of months,” she said, placing her hands in her lap. “Our library is in dire need of organization, re-organization. We’d want our students to have a better library environment in this new school year.”

Darcy bit her lip.

“I’m – I’m a technician, I’m not a librarian,” she said. “I can’t teach.”

She wasn’t selling herself at all. She figured the unconventional style of this interview had thrown her off-balance. There was another distant bang but she didn’t jump that time, instead staring at Maria, waiting for her reply.

“We had needed to juggle our staff after our librarian left quite suddenly in May,” Maria said. “Other teachers are stepping up, but our collection is in dire need of help. From what I heard from your references –”

“Y-You spoke to Doctor -?”

“Yes, I spoke to Doctor Foster and Doctor Chandler,” Maria said, flipping open the file she had, showing what Darcy recognised as a copy of her resume. “They both said you were a remarkable young woman.”

Darcy’s brows lifted, especially since Doctor Chandler was Patrick.

“Really? What did the podiatrist say, specifically?”

“Basically that I’d be a moron if I didn’t hire you immediately,” Maria said, another smirk forming. She shut the file, glancing out the window. Her eyes swung back to meet Darcy’s. “I’m not the principal. I’m the deputy. To make a long story short, Miss Lewis, we’re in a pretty messy situation as a school. The kids are back in less than three weeks and the library looks like a pipe bomb went off in it.”

Darcy blinked. “Right.”

“I would be taking you on as a technician, not a teacher.”

“I don’t know if I’m… I didn’t apply for a job here, I don’t remember anything being advertised –”

“Your name popped up in my network,” Maria said, and she stood up suddenly.

There was another bang.

Darcy mirrored her, smoothing her skirt down, hoping she hadn’t left a sweat patch on the chair. Maria didn’t seem interested, instead moved to walk out, pausing when she took hold of the doorknob.

“I’m not going to sugar-coat it. It’s a big job, and you wouldn’t have a lot of time if you were aiming to finish it enough for kids to use the library on the first day back.”

Darcy nodded. “Right.”

“I have other people to see as well. We didn’t advertise for this role but word of mouth tends to work better than any recruiting website.”

Darcy nodded again. She didn’t think she’d get this job. A better qualified person, maybe a teacher librarian looking for a change, would get it. She departed from the classroom, slipping into the corridor. Maria took her hand and shook it.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll be heading toward that ruckus you heard earlier,” Maria said, and Darcy nodded, feeling her face flush.

“Good to meet you,” Darcy said.

She stopped walking and watched Maria walk down another hallway and out of sight, another bang ringing out in the distance, and then a couple yells. It sounded like Maria was investigating, muffled yells going back and forth, and Darcy gave a little sigh, adjusting her bag on her shoulder before she moved back the way they came through.

She stopped at the Mary painting, leaning forward to see the tiny brushstrokes on the blue gown she was swathed in, along with the tiniest text beneath.

Sister Siobhan O’Keefe, 1908

“Holy shit,” she whispered, stepping back. “Go Siobhan…”

She walked outside, the sun in her eyes, and she got in her car, putting her keys in the ignition. She turned them, but the car remained silent.

At that moment, another car pulled up, parking several spaces away from her, and she felt her cheeks flush again with embarrassment. Her car had been idling the other day when she was in traffic but she hadn’t taken any notice, of fucking course, because she was on her way home the day Ian told her about Amy.

Her battery was dead. She waited for the person in their car to get out, hearing their door shut. She tried again in vain, closing her eyes.

“Please…”

She couldn’t afford a tow truck. She gnawed at her lip, feeling the bullets of sweat glide down her back as she tried to shove down the growing anxiety. She had money for a bus ticket, at least…

She glanced over at the car and saw a man standing there wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, watching her.

“Fuck me,” she said under her breath, because he was cute as hell.

Blonde with blue eyes, muscular and tall like a football player. He frowned, signalling her to lower her window. Darcy shook her head hastily, opening her door.

“My battery’s dead,” she called, feeling like her face was on fire.

“I thought so,” he said, and she nodded, flashing an awkward smile.

He went to his trunk and held up a jumper cable and Darcy blinked.

“You want help? Unless you wanna call someone –”

“No, please, I mean, thank you –”

She motioned for him to come closer. He walked over, leaning down, and Darcy wiped some sweat from her face.

“I just – I was in there before, I don’t want – I mean, I already fucked up the job interview, I don’t want this to end in mortification.”

The man’s eyebrows lifted. “Really? Interview?”

“Yeah, you work here?”

“Yeah,” he said, and he gestured to her hand resting on the keys in the ignition. “One more time, see what happens.”

She tried again, but nothing happened. She let out a sigh.

“Yeah, I’ll need that jumper cable.”

“Just a sec,” he said, moving back.

Darcy watched as he moved the car closer until it was facing hers, and he slipped out again to pop the hood, which was when Darcy decided she needed to move out of the front seat and try to pretend she knew what was happening.

She’d only been in this situation once before with Ian and he took over. She’d taken that for granted, not knowing something as basic as this. She knew how to change a tyre, too, but she didn’t think it was something she should do, necessarily.

He seemed to be doing fine without her pretending to supervise him, and Darcy watched him attach the cables, moving back and forth between the two cars.

Her car sprang to life after he told her to give it another try, and she let out a laugh, so relieved.

“God, thank you so much,” she said, and he smiled at her.

“Anyone else woulda done it,” he said, and Darcy kept smiling.

She was fucking lucky he showed up when he did. He went to his trunk to get out a carton of books and rose a hand in a short wave.

“Thank you!” she called from her window, pulling her seatbelt on.

He walked up to the front door and disappeared inside as Darcy drove off.

#darcy lewis x steve rogers x bucky barnes #darcy lewis #steve rogers x reader #darcy lewis x steve rogers #darcy lewis x bucky barnes #wintershieldshock #fanfiction

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ao3feed-gallavich · 3 years

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Get To The Top Of The World, Then Scream

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3cGnlDb

by HOwOmosexual420

The South Side of Chicago is home to many weirdos. So many in fact that Kynan Jackson feels invisible by comparison. To be fair, she doesn't want to be noticed by the whole world. But when your father doesn't notice you unless you do something that warrants yelling, your sister is unwilling to be seen with you outside the house, and your mother can't bring herself to defend you, it's hard not to feel that way. And then Eddie leaves, and shithead that he was, he's still better than Frank Fucking Gallagher. It says a lot, really, when the Milkovich siblings are the one stable point in your life. Of course, they're not really that stable since one is simultaneously gay and homophobic and the other is five seconds away from self destructing at any given point in time, but still. It'd be, weirdly enough, almost perfect. That is, if Kynan's disaster bi ass could stop being in love with Mandy Milkovich.

Words: 1411, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Shameless (US)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F

Characters: Mandy Milkovich, Mickey Milkovich, Original Female Character(s), Karen Jackson, Sheila Jackson, Eddie Jackson, Frank Gallagher, Lip Gallagher, Ian Gallagher

Relationships: Mandy Milkovich/Original Female Characters, Mandy Milkovich/Lip Gallagher, Mandy Milkovich & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich

Additional Tags: alcohol use, Alcohol Abuse, Drug Use, Drug Abuse, There are like no healthy relationships in this show wtf, Karen is a bitch, Sheila is oblivious and enabling, Frank is a dick, Eddie is a dick, There's so much swearing oh my god, oh the OC is autistic, And bisexual, and genderqueer, and has ADHD I guess which I didn't do on purpose, damn it's obvious this was based off me, have fun trying to see what my traumatic experiences were by reading this, hell even I don't know at this point, we go into ableism here yay, and ABA therapy, FUCK ABA 'therapy' btw, if you don't like it don't read it, Mandy and the OC are so gay for each other, Mickey and Ian are also very very gay for each other, I'm banning cishet people, they just no longer exist in my world, canon is also fake, canon is fake except for the parts i like, Mandy doesn't hit Karen with a car, Although Karen dESERVES IT, she brought that on herself ngl, OC is semiverbal, Karen is a bit ableist, but like we knew that from the show, Karen is a terrible sister, she WOULD BE

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3cGnlDb

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #Gallavich

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spaceorphan18 · 3 years

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Marvel Movie Nights: X-Men First Class

And... back to X-Men! At the time (my god has it been ten years?!) this film was such a breath of fresh air, and the 2010s were such a revamp of this genre. The MCU was, of course, leading the way, (along with the Dark Knight trilogy for DC) but it made way for films of other franchises to be taken more seriously within the craft. I genuinely liked this movie a lot more than the previous couple of times I’ve watched it (I swear -- seeing these in order makes me appreciate functional movie/story telling). However, that doesn’t mean that I don’t have some serious issues with it.

So, let’s start with what I did like about it...

Xavier and Magneto. The original trilogy perfectly cast Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellen. And these films perfectly cast James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender. Their paralleling stories, their dueling philosophies, everything about how they laid out these arcs in this film really works -- not just as a good origin film, but as a good character study, too. I kind of wish the movie was just about the two of them, but apparently, this is still a superhero film I suppose.

I also want to add intentionally or not, there’s a fair bit of queer undertones to this relationship. It’s definitely there in the comics. And I can’t help but notice it throughout the film. Idk - just stood out to me more this time.

The first class grew on me, too. Look, I’m a comic nerd, it feels weird that we didn’t have a reboot and get the actual first class. But most of this works for me (with a few exceptions I’ll state later), especially since these kids are going to be mostly background players in a film that’s truly about Xavier and Magneto.

Also, shout out to Nicholas Hoult as Beast. It’s a fantastic interpretation, and a nice nod to his origins from the comics.

So... before I get to my did not like list, I want to point out that the majority of the above takes up most of the film. When the film focuses on Xavier and Magneto, it really shines, and it’s really what kept my attention this time around.

Anyway, some indifferences first!

The 60s backdrop. It’s kinda fun when they actually stick to it. Sometimes it feels in a nondescript time. It works since the X-Men premiered in the 60s, and I did enjoy the subtle nods to the comics in the little things like that. But there were times when the literal usage of 60s footage felt maybe a bit much.

The fact that it was darker! The first twenty minutes of this film are super dark, and throughout there are times when it pushes just a little bit farther than regular superhero genre grittiness. At times, it made the tone of the film feel uneven -- especially when the third act is less philosophy and more about punchy-punchy comic book stuff. It would have been interesting if they had kept that tone throughout.

Also, speaking of things from the comics -- I appreciate the that the whole driving conflict was a nod to X-Men issue 1 when Magneto threatens the world using missiles. Nice touch.

And... Moira MacTaggart. I liked the actress. I eye-rolled that she had to get into her underwear at one point. And eesh the fact that Xavier takes her memories. I don’t think this film does women all that well.

Alright, things and for the bad...

So, ironically (?) one of X-Men’s main themes has always revolved around a group of marginalized people being oppressed and persecuted by the majority. Hmmm. And yet, for a film that wants us to take these themes seriously, does a great disservice to POCs. There are only two in the film (that I can remember). One is blown up maybe ten minutes after he’s introduced having no purpose other than to be a casualty, and the other is whisked away to be a villain because she doesn’t have much purpose being in the film. The film spends so much time debating whether or not blue skin is acceptable, but does nearly nothing to promote that brown and black skin is, too.

Meanwhile, the villains... Kevin Bacon is fine as Sebastian Shaw (though I have a hard time believing him as the scientist from the beginning of the film). And I get why The Hellfire Club would be a good fit for the 60s, I can’t help but feel that it’s just conceived of poorly in this film. There are a lot of cool things you can doo with the Hellfire Club -- and instead they use it to, really, booster the idea of missiles and government stuff so that they could pay homage to X-Men #1. And as usual in these films, the surrounding villains are kind of lame. Riptide is boring. Azazel is perplexing (this dude is canonically Nightcrawler’s dad -- guess who his mom is...)

But most egregious is January Jones’s dull Emma Frost. This character is incredibly complex and vastly interesting in the comics, and she’s just a piece of diamond cardboard in this film. I won’t completely fault Jones’s terrible acting -- I think the writing and directing of the character completely misses the mark, and it’s a shame they wasted her and the Hellfire Club here when they could have saved it to have a really good Dark Phoenix Saga.

And then there’s Mystique. This is, perhaps, the best of the Jennifer Lawrence outing as the character (or maybe the next one - it’s been a long time), and still I often find myself wanting to throw things at her. Mystique is another character, who, when done well, is incredibly compelling. But I think the Jennifer Lawrence pouting about things seems to overshadow actual nuance with the character.

Lastly, there’s the problem that seems to plague a majority of these superhero films. The drawn out and somewhat predictable and dull third act. The thing that gets me about these X-Men films, though, is that they hardly do what the comics are best known for -- giving action sequences where they get to play all their powers off each other. This film just doesn’t do it, and while I did like the final Magneto/Xavier showdown, a lot of the action up until that point felt standard issue, thus dragging an otherwise smarter film down.

Final Verdict: Is this movie better than X2? It might be!

Next Up: Captain America!!! Whoo!

#marvel movie nights

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angelic-holland · 4 years

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Hang the Stars // TMO imagine

“Because what’s worse than knowing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?” - James Patterson

“I’ll take care of you.”

“It’s rotten work.”

“Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

- Anne Carson, Euripides

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: angst, mentions of murder, mentions of mob activity, fluffy fluff

Summary: Three Months and 14 days. That’s how long Harrison has loved you. That’s how long he’s known he can never have you like he wants you. Three months and 14 days is a dreadfully long time to love someone who will never love him back.

A/N: Hi! This is a little short of the reader’s time with Ian and Harrison and the Irish mob. This can sort of work as a stand alone fic but works better after reading the first 13 chapters of Take Me Out! This is from Harrison’s perspective aka the reader is ‘her’. As always, feedback through reblogs and asks are always appreciated and encouraged if you’re part of my taglist! Let me know what you think about this little piece!

The worst part of falling in love is the pain when you hit the ground.

That isn’t how Harrison feels sitting in the meeting room of Ian’s brownstone when the doorbell rang. He feels calm with the slightest bit of excitement because he’s finally allowed to sit in on meetings.

Nobody rings the doorbell here. All of Ian’s men knocked, a special knock to let Ian know that it was them.

So Harrison sat in his seat right by the head of the table where Ian usually sits while Ian draws a gun, stalking toward the front door.

He can’t see anything, neither can any of the other men in the room, but they can hear her.

At first, Dewey jokes that it’s a girl that Ian knocked up, here to collect child support.

Russell shuts him up with a glare, “probably just a girl scout or something.”

“It’s nine at night,” Harrison says, straining to hear what Ian was saying to whoever was standing at the door.

There’s a shrill cry that makes all of the men at the table widen their eyes.

“Don’t touch me!”

Then Ian’s voice is soothing and attempting to comfort the girl, whoever she may be.

There’s a rumbling and Harrison swears it’s thunder but he can’t help the next words that slip out of his mouth, “everything okay?”

A sob ripples through the near silent house.

Harrison stands up, about to leave the room when Russell stops him.

“This isn’t your business.”

“It might be-,”

“Just wait, patience, boy,” Dewey sneers.

Harrison sits back down, mumbling under his breath about leaving him the fuck alone.

The men sit in silence as they hear Ian walking around the house, making a few phone calls.

“Check in on the place, that’s right, rented to Adeline Park, I want an update by tomorrow morning.”

Adeline Park. Maybe that’s the girl who showed up at the door. It has to be.

Several minutes later, Ian steps back inside the room, trying to push the franticness out of his voice.

“Meeting dismissed, we’ll pick up tomorrow morning. Harrison, go out and get food, real food, fruits and vegetables, shit like that.”

Harrison isn’t going to question it at this point, “right away, boss.”

He stands up and buttons his suit jacket, following the rest of the men out of the house before Ian grabs his arm.

“Don’t let them get you caught up in their rumor mill, I’m taking care of an old friend,” Ian says, voice low so the last of the men exiting the house don’t hear him.

“Course, boss, I’ll be right back.”

Harrison is nosy, it’s not something he’s exactly proud of, but with his job, it comes with the territory.

That’s why he searches for an Adeline Park on Facebook. A dozen or so results show up. He didn’t catch a glimpse of her face, so he scrolls through each result, each profile, wondering if this was the girl who showed up on his bosses doorstep, completely throwing him for a loop.

He buys a lot of food, probably too much, but he had no idea what Ian wanted other than fruits and vegetables, he swears he almost buys out the entire store. After unloading all of the food into the cabinets and fridge, he makes his way upstairs.

He hears Ian and her talking, Adeline, her voice is weak but anxious as Ian tries to soothe her. He almost doesn’t want to interrupt, to break into their precious moment. But Harrison is nosy, so he does anyway.

“It is though, you take bad people and you get rid of them. You kill people who deserve to be killed.”

Harrison’s eyes widen at Ian’s words. So she isn’t just an old flame. Or perhaps she is, Ian’s circle consists mainly of mobsters and murderers. So it’s possible she is a killer and an old flame. What better person for a murderer than another murderer?

Harrison took off his suit jacket, leaning against the door as he watches her, her hair in a messy ponytail, eyes puffy, bruises encircling her throat. He wonders who could hurt someone as beautiful as her.

“Boss.”

“Harrison, she’s going to be staying in the guest room with you for a little bit. Is that okay?”

“Course, boss, groceries are downstairs, all set away.”

“Great, sweetheart, I’ve got to make a few phone calls but if you need anything, Harrison can help you, okay?”

“He’s uh, he’s good?”

Her voice is terrified, it’s a trembling whisper and she doesn’t want Harrison to hear but he does.

“He’s the best,” Ian says before he stands up, giving Harrison a look before leaving him alone with the girl who clearly didn’t trust anyone.

What the fuck is Harrison supposed to do? To say? She reminds him of a scared cat, drawing in on herself as he steps forward into the room completely.

“Hi, uh, name’s Harrison,” He says, wanting to smack himself, he drops his coat on his bed and walks toward her, sticking his hand out.

Right, because the way to look non threatening to her is to stick your hand out when the last man who did that was the one who gave her all of those bruises.

She is hesitant as he holds his hand out, and right before he’s about to drop it, she meekly shakes his hand.

“Y/N.”

So not Adeline.

She drops his hand almost as quickly as she shakes it.

“Well, y/n, you’re free to borrow my clothes anytime, definitely look better on you than me.”

Damn it Harrison.

The last thing this girl wants, or needs, is someone flirting with her.

“Sorry, that was uh, stupid of me.”

She giggles and Harrison feels light headed.

“It’s okay, uh, you been with Ian long?”

“No, a few months. We met while he was back in Ireland.”

“So are you his uh, next in command?” She asks as Harrison begins to get ready for bed.

“Sort of, if I show I can do well under pressure. How much do you know about Ian?”

He’s curious about which part of Ian’s past she’s from.

“Just that he’s the Irish mob leader here, and uh, you’re not Irish.”

Her tone is almost accusatory, like Harrison isn’t supposed to be here. But she digresses, somewhat caging herself off to his response as she sets the plate down and gently touches her neck, wincing as her fingers touch the bruises.

“You shouldn’t, you know, touch that, I can get you some ice if you want, I’ll just go change and then grab an ice pack,” Harrison says, not waiting for a response before gathering up his pajamas and leaving her alone.

Ian is talking downstairs after Harrison changed and he becomes quiet as Harrison enters the kitchen.

“Just grabbing her an ice pack,” Harrison says, grabbing one from the freezer and wrapping it in a dish towel.

“She’s got some problems, Harrison, you won’t be able to fix her.”

“I wasn’t planning on trying to-,”

“It’s okay son, I’m sure you only want to help. But I think she’ll just need time.”

“Oh, sure, of course,” Harrison nods, “but Ian, do you think she’d, I mean, do you know who hurt her?”

Ian shakes his head, “that’s what I’m trying to find out, I haven't seen her in five years. She drove here from fucking Idaho. I guess she didn’t really have anyone else to go to.”

Harrison nods, swallowing the lump in his throat as he makes his way back upstairs. He wonders who could have hurt her so badly she drove across the country to someone she hasn’t seen in over half a decade.

“Hey, I uh, I got you an ice pack,” he says, watching her roll over in the blue sheets, her eyes red, cheeks swollen from crying.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, holding her hand out for the ice.

When he hands it to her, he swears electricity crackles under his fingertips when they touch her hand. She withdraws almost immediately.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says, turning back toward the wall, not letting Harrison look at her properly as she rests the ice pack against her neck.

“Like what?” Harrison asks, slightly confused as he sits down in his own bed, wanting to give her as much distance as she needs.

“Like I’m a lost puppy someone just kicked to the curb. Like you’re sorry for me, like you’re some guy who sees a girl that’s broken and wants to piece me back together. I’m Humpty fucking Dumpty, you’re not putting me back together again.”

Harrison figures the best thing to do is let her vent.

“I didn’t think you’re Humpty Dumpty.”

“Right, next you’re going to tell me you would never hurt me and that you’d never do anything to put me at risk.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” Harrison says, laying down.

“The last person who said that, did this,” she turns and takes away the ice pack, her throat definitely swollen past it’s normal size.

“Listen, you don’t have to tell me about him, whoever did that, but I would never do that, never touch you like that-,”

“Just- don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep.”

The realization that Y/N doesn’t trust him, doesn’t trust anyone, because the man who did that most definitely wasn’t the first person who has hurt her like that, sits on Harrison’s chest like a stack of bricks.

Taking care of her, being her keeper or her babysitter or whatever wasn’t his goal or intention after the first night, but since then, that’s all Harrison has ever done. And he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind one bit.

For the first time in his life, Y/N gave Harrison what he felt was a purpose, a reason for being more than his typical self.

And isn’t that the cruelest sort of love? The love you feel for someone so broken that industrial strength glue can’t piece them together, the love that no matter how hard and how fiercely you love, they’ll never be quite able to reciprocate it?

***

There are bad nights, nights where she wakes up screaming for someone, crying out for the person who hurt her. He buries the name in his subconscious, never gaining the courage to ask her about this Tom character who invaded her peaceful sleep.

During the first two weeks she hardly got any sleep, and that keeps Harrison up as well. There are moments when she’ll stare at him and he’d stare right back, her eyes the only thing visible in the dark room. A beacon of hope for someone lost at sea.

And then she climbs into his bed. They’re both restless on this September night, now morning if Harrison is being technical. 2am.

“I uh, I was hoping I might sleep better if I, well, if I sleep next to you,” her voice is soft and her eyes wide as Harrison nods, patting the spot next to him. The bed is small, no doubt that they’d have to lay practically on top of each other to not fall off. So with a gentle nod from Harrison, she curls up next to him, her head on his chest and her legs practically on top of his.

That night Harrison has slept better than he has in years. In fact, Y/N and Harrison looked so peaceful that when Ian went to check on them the next morning, he didn’t wake them up. Finally both of them got a full nights sleep without screaming, without fear of what tomorrow may bring. Finally it seems both of them are at peace.

***

When she kisses Harrison for the first time, about a month after she arrived, he swore he was dreaming. They’ve kissed plenty of times in Harrison’s dreams, but each time he feels like he’s betraying the real Y/N.

They’re lying in bed, Harrison has an arm around her shoulder, only after she gave him explicit permission to do so. She’s cradling his face like it’s a glass vase, her eyes searching for the blooming flowers beneath his fragile exterior. Maybe poppies or brunneras. Nothing can quite match his shade of blue.

“Can I?” She asks, her eyes focused on the short sharp breaths forming on Harrison’s lips.

He nods, waiting for the dream to end, to wake up and be reminded this isn’t real.

Her lips brush against his and she waits for him to reciprocate before moving further. She’s warm against him, almost burning up or maybe that’s his heart? Harrison can’t tell, in fact he feels light headed and his stomach twists into a knot as he kisses her back. Her lips are so soft, and she tastes like his mint toothpaste, the one she uses now, since they’ve gotten in the habit of brushing their teeth together.

He pulls away, only because he’s sure he’s stopped breathing, “pinch me.”

It makes her laugh, it’s melodic and Harrison closes his eyes, resting his forehead against hers, soaking up each note.

“You’re not dreaming,” she murmurs, her lips finding his again.

“Pinch me anyway,” he mumbles against her lips, he can’t find it in him to pull away.

She gently pinches his cheek and he waits to wake up. But he doesn’t. Tonight they don’t sleep much, random thoughts and words are shared between soft kisses, never moving further than a gentle hand on cheek, soft skin against skin.

Neither of them mind as she traces his cheekbone, the moonlight cutting across his skin and illuminating every imperfection.

“Thank you, for everything.”

She doesn’t need to say it. She doesn’t need to thank him.

“Don’t thank me,” he says as she snuggles into his chest, her hair tickling his chin.

“I don’t know why you do it, why you take care of me. I’m sure you’d much rather be out with Ian and the rest of them-,”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” Harrison cuts her off and he watches as she turns in his arms, her eyes wandering to the window, staring up at the moon, the stars. He wonders if she feels the same way.

“Don’t say that just because-,”

“I’ve never lied to you,” Harrison murmurs, his arm rests against her shoulder and for a half a second he thinks she flinches, but she relaxes almost immediately.

“It’s rotten work,” she huffs, laughing low in her throat.

“What is?”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m poison, draining the life out of everyone around me. I don’t want you to be as lifeless as me. It’s rotten work being around a person like me.”

“Well, unless you’re planning on killing me…” he’s joking, for the most part.

“No! I wouldn’t, I couldn’t,” she mumbles, the sky is forgotten as she turns back around, resting her hand on his chest, right over his heart.

“You know, it’s not rotten work, caring for you. I don’t think I could ever get tired of spending time with you.”

“Liar.”

“I’m anything but. I just wish you’d believe me.”

“I don’t deserve it.”

He wants to ask, he wants to ask why she doesn’t think she’s worth every single second he spends with her. He wants to cradle her face in his hands as gently as she cradled his. He wants to whisper, he wants to shout that she’s worth it, she’s so god damn worth it that he can’t see himself doing anything else but share the same twin size bed with her for the rest of his life.

But by now, he can tell when she’s feeling drained, emotionally, mentally, physically.

She needs to sleep, and she isn’t going to listen to anything else that he plans on saying. So he tucks those words back into his mind and lets her sleep.

***

Their life isn’t perfect, it’s far from it. Especially on days Y/N is so depressed she can’t get out of bed. There are days when she’s downright mean and it forces Harrison to take a step back and realize that she’s been through some stuff, she’s seen some shit, and she has every right to get upset and angry at the world. Besides, the world is a cruel place, and it sometimes feels that she is their sole target.

He does things to try to brighten her up, whether it be getting her favorite cannoli from Mike’s Pastry or a smoothie from a local farmer’s market. Today he brought her both, because before he left, she was yelling about how useless it was to be here and how she wishes she was back in Idaho.

“Y/N?” Harrison calls out, climbing the stairs two at a time with the food and a gift.

He hears the shower going and calls out to her, resting his head on the bathroom door.

She doesn’t answer and immediately his mind flies to worse case scenarios.

To her taking her anger and depression and turning it inward on herself, so much so that she can’t come back from it.

“Y/N!” Harrison shouts, voice unsteady as he opens the door. He doesn’t want to invade her privacy, but he will just to make sure that the worst case scenario he built up isn’t coming true.

Normally there’s a shadow of the person showering on the shower curtain. But as Harrison sets everything aside he finds Y/N’s shadow curled up in the corner, the water almost drowning out her cries.

“Y/N, darling, are you okay?” Harrison asks, kneeling down at the edge of the tub, hesitant to push back the curtain.

“I can’t breath,” she gasps and no matter how much of a gentleman Harrison is, he can’t sit outside the tub and not check on her now.

“Y/N, I’m going to open the curtain, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m a monster,” she shouts as Harrison pulls back the curtain, revealing her crying form.

“What?” Harrison asks, watching her continue to shake.

“I- I’m here, I ran from my problem and he, he’s dead because of me, I’m a monster,” she sobs, the water starting to prune her skin.

Harrison has absolutely no idea what Y/N is talking about, but he knows one thing for sure, that something happened to her or because of her that has changed her forever.

“Come on Y/N, we can talk about this if you want, but you need to get out of the shower, need to get dried off,” Harrison reaches over to grab her arm but she pulls away violently, quivering at the thought of his touch.

He stands up, turning the water off, it’s scalding and he wonders how she hasn’t practically burnt her skin off yet.

He waits a moment for her to come out, grabbing a towel from the closet and standing at the edge of the tub.

“Y/N…”

“Just leave me alone! You should hate me! I don’t-,” she starts as Harrison leans down, trying to pick her up.

“Go away!” She screams, batting at his hands as he tries to, at this point drag her out of the bath if he has to.

“No, Y/N, you have to understand, please, please understand I’m not going anywhere,” Harrison pleads as he struggles with what to do now.

Fuck it, if she won’t get out of the tub, he’ll join her. So that’s what Harrison does, clothes and all, sitting behind her and drawing her body against his as she sobs. She doesn’t resist him however, and that’s the most important part of this exchange. He just wants her to feel safe, like he’s the one person she can feel safe with.

“It’s okay,” he brushes back her wet hair as she cries until her breathing levels out and there aren’t anymore tears left to cry.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“This kid, Harry, he uh, he was in a coma. And Jake, Jake killed him. This innocent kid who never did anything wrong in his life. Jake killed him to get back at me, to get back at Tom.”

“Why is that your fault then, darling?” Harrison asks as he begins wringing out her hair, not a care in the world that his clothes are now completely soaked as well.

“Because, if I didn’t get involved with T-T-Tom, then Jake would have no reason to try to put him in his place like that! If I didn’t put my stupid fucking heart out like that, this wouldn’t have happened!”

Harrison doesn’t have the courage to ask if she meant the two of them.

“Is that why you came looking for Ian?”

“Tom he- he blamed me for Harry’s death. And he- I never thought he was capable of hurting me until that moment. And I couldn’t- I couldn’t stay while he was so angry like that. He would’ve killed me. But maybe I deserve that.”

“No, hey, look at me,” Harrison pleads, his heart literally aching in his chest as she stares back at him with trembling lips and tear tracks down her cheeks.

“What? How can you know who I am and not think I deserve to die?”

“Did you kill this kid with your own two hands?”

She shakes her head no, so Harrison continues.

“So you kill bad people. You didn’t kill this kid, so you need to get into that mindset. You need to see yourself how I see you.”

“I feel like I’m a rain cloud or a fucking black hole, just sucking the life out of everything.”

“You’re anything but,” Harrison tries to reassure her.

“Don’t lie to me just to make me feel better.”

“Okay, you might be a rain cloud. But more than that, you’re an entire day’s worth of weather. And what happens after a rain?”

She sniffles but doesn’t respond, so Harrison pulls out the small velvet black box he wasn’t expecting to give her until later tonight. His jeans are soaking wet and it makes it harder to grab, but when he does, his hand is shaking harder than Y/N is.

“You know, when I was a kid and I was having a bad day, my mum used to sing this song for me,” Harrison opens the box and holds the necklace up to show her.

“What is this?” She asks, her fingers curling around the sun pendant.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you, please don’t take my sunshine away.”

***

It’s been almost four months since Y/N showed up on Ian’s doorstep. Harrison wants to celebrate the small strides she’s making by cooking her breakfast. Tomorrow they’re supposed to go stake out a hit that Harrison will be running, and Ian is letting Y/N go with him.

“What’re you making?” Y/N asks, sleepily rubbing her eyes as she sits at the kitchen counter.

“Pancakes,” Harrison smiles, flipping one over before turning back to Y/N.

She has tears in her eyes that she quickly tries to hide. She’s not fast enough. Harrison often catches her before she can hide her emotions from him. She isn’t sure if she appreciates this ability of his, but he’s always able to calm her down when she gets worked up.

“Okay, if you don’t like pancakes, darling, we don’t have to have them,” Harrison quickly turns off the stove and walks around the counter, holding his arms out for her.

He always waits for her to make the first move. To pull him into a hug, to sleep by his side, to kiss him. He would never want her to feel pressured into anything, make her feel like she’s required to reciprocate what he wants to give to her.

She buries herself inside his arms, her body shaking with sobs.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,” Harrison sings lightly, feeling her slowly bring herself back to reality and out of whatever dark space pancakes seemed to send her to. “Sing with me, darling,” he murmurs as he rubs her back, “you make me happy when skies are grey.”

Her voice is thick with tears but she continues along with him, “you’ll never know dear, how much I love you, please don’t take my sunshine away.”

“So no pancakes?” Harrison asks hesitantly as she sits back down.

“I, uh, I prefer waffles,” she sniffles, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Waffles it is.”

After work, Harrison buys a waffle maker and all the ingredients he needs to cook up the best waffle recipe he can find. The look in Y/N’s eyes when he sets up the waffle maker is enough to make Harrison melt into a puddle on the floor like a schoolboy whose crush notices him.

“Please tell me you like your waffles sweet,” Harrison pulls out a can of whipped cream from the fridge, raising an eyebrow at Y/N.

She nods eagerly, “what’s a waffle without maple syrup and whipped cream?”

Harrison chuckles as she takes the plate and can from him, loading the waffle with whipped cream.

“God, I love you.”

Maybe he didn’t mean for those words to slip out, but they did. They’ve been stuck in his throat for three months now, ever since the first night she crawled into his bed and asked him to hold her.

The whipped cream can cuts off, filling the kitchen with a silence that absolutely shatters Harrison’s heart.

She doesn’t need to say anything. Her face, shocked with slight confusion, mouth wide open and eyebrows pinched together, tells him everything he needs to know.

“Why?” She can’t even look at him as she begins to cut into her food.

“What do you mean why? Why do I love you?”

She nods as she begins to eat, still not meeting his eyes.

“You showed up when I was beginning to doubt joining Ian, don’t tell him that though. And you were closed off. Mean and cranky, and I mean, you still are-,”

“Hey!” She scowls, flicking a bit of whipped cream at him.

“The face you make when you’re mad is really cute. But even when you put on the grumpiest face, I know that you care a lot, about Ian, about the people in your life.”

“About you.”

“Hmm?” Harrison has to pinch himself, wondering if he is truly hearing what he thinks he’s hearing.

“I care about you,” she says, shoveling more of the waffle into her mouth before she stands up, the chair scraping against the floor.

“You care about me?” Harrison asks, watching her nervously pick at the fingernail of her thumb, nodding as she wraps her arms around his neck.

“I know you want me to say that I- that I-, fuck I’m sorry, but I can’t. And you know if I said it right now, it would only be because of what you said, because of how you feel. And you deserve someone who can say that back because it’s true, because she has no reservations and shitty feelings and emotional shortcomings.”

“But I’ll stay, through your shitty feelings and your emotional shortcomings.”

“Don’t know why,” she mumbles.

“You’re worth it, Y/N, don’t you see how incredibly fucking worth it you are?”

“I’m worth it?” She asks, as if she is discovering this for the first time as well.

“You’re so fucking worth it, there aren’t enough words in the dictionary or our time on this earth to tell you how worth it you are.”

***

“Darling, what’s wrong?” Harrison asks as he brushes hair out of her eyes, kissing her forehead before sitting up to get a good look at her, watching the way her hands start to shake.

“Kiss me like you hate me.”

He’s confused, because he figured this might be the night she decides to go further with him, to share a part of herself he wasn’t sure he’s ever seen. But why would she ask him to kiss her like that?

Aggressively?

“What do you-,”

“I don’t want you to make love to me, I- I can’t make love to you.”

“Darling I’m not going to kiss you like I hate you, I don’t hate you, I couldn’t hate you.”

“You should hate me,” she sobs, curling in on herself as Harrison lays down next to her, pulling her into his chest.

“No, darling, it’s okay, shhh, I couldn’t hate you, darling, you could be the wicked witch of the west and I’d still look at you like you hung the stars in the sky. Maybe that’s why you’re cranky, you’ve spent so long bringing light to everyone else, you never saved any for yourself. What’s wrong?”

“Nobody’s ever, well except- and I can’t, I just can’t,” she continues to cry, her tears soaking his shirt as he runs a hand through her hair.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to do anything, I would be perfectly content with you in my arms, just laying here,” Harrison assures her, keeping her as calm as he could even when he felt like his world simply didn’t make sense.

“I’ve killed people, you know.”

“I know,” Harrison says, calm and even.

“Lots of people.”

“Bad people.”

She shifts around in his arms, facing him. Her breath is shaky as he wipes the tears from her face and kisses her forehead.

“You gave people light by taking bad people out of their lives.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I’m a bad person,” she sniffles as Harrison brings his lips along her face, kissing every single inch of skin.

“There’s such a blurred line between good and bad, right and wrong. How many people have you saved by killing murderers? By killing rapists?”

She shrugs and it shocks Harrison how she can’t see what he sees.

“Too many to count. And tomorrow you’re getting back in the game, staking out the new hit with me. It’ll be fun but if you’re uncomfortable, we stop, got it?”

“Got it,” she nods, letting his warmth calm her down and lull her to sleep.

***

“Y/N, when was the uh, last time you had your period?” Harrison asked, wondering how long it typically took for someone to start showing.

“What? Uh two months and uhh 20 days ago,” her eyes widened and she stopped about five feet short of the brownstone, turning to Harrison, “I’m not, it’s uh, it’s the stress.”

***

It’s been a week and a half since Y/N left Harrison on the curbside dreaming of children and a life together. It’s been a week and a half and all Harrison has been able to do is dream of her, growing old with her, a kid, as many kids as she wants. He dreams of a life where he can play catch or push them on the swing set. It’s a stupid dream, especially now that she’s gone. She promised to check in, but it’s been absolute and complete radio silence since she left.

Most days Ian doesn’t ask much of him, understanding how torn up Harrison is after she left. Today was one of those days where Harrison sits in bed drinking straight from a bottle of expensive rum and stares at his phone, at her contact photo. It’s the only photo of her that he has. He took it one day while they were drinking hot chocolate at this small bakery in the North End. She has a whipped cream mustache and is flushing as Harrison holds his phone up, snapping a cheeky picture. She protested at first but he insisted that it could be used for his lockscreen. She immediately stole a picture of him as well, head tilted back in a laugh. He wonders if it’s still her lockscreen.

As if by some twist of fate, maybe his luck is finally turning around, his phone rings. And it’s Y/N.

He’s so excited he spills the remaining bottle of rum as he tries to set it down on the counter. But that could wait. Y/N couldn’t.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Harrison says, choking back tears as her ragged voice greets him on the other end.

“Haz?” There’s a short pause and several sharp breaths before she continues.

“I need you, Harrison. I made a huge mistake.”

***

Taglist (removed anyone who hasn’t interacted w the fic sorry I don’t want to type out a bunch of urls and have nobody interact; if you want to be added back message me!): @gioandreolli @honeymoonparker @itsjusttor @averyfosterthoughts @worldoftom @angelhaz11 @rebekkah4766

#tom holland #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield angst #take me out #wow i didnt see this coming when i started writing tmo yet here we are #tom holland imagine #tom holland series

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miguel-manbemel · 4 years

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Aspects & Fanfics Ep. 35: The Vacation Part 2: I Don’t Wanna Stop Loving You

Here comes the next part in the story I started in the previous episode. Before starting, I want to remind that the Remus that appears in this fic is an alternate version of the original. I know the original Remus is a lot crazier than how I’m depicting him here, but then again, his introduction here was completely different and he has a backstory that canon Remus does not, hence the differences. It’s just another take on him, which is the whole purpose of making an AU in the first place after all. I’m leaving you with the story, then, and hope you enjoy. Until next time.

SYNOPSIS: After the terrible misunderstanding at the beach, Remus has locked himself in his room and doesn’t want to see anyone. Janus and the others desperately try to get to him, to gain his forgiveness, and also fearing for him and his mental health.

WARNINGS: Angst, in the whole sense of the word. Some slight innuendo on behalf of Remus. Romantic dukeceit.

EPISODE INDEX

[the off-voice narration is mixed with flashback images from the previous episode]

ROMAN-NARRATOR: We all decided to take a week of vacation in the Royal Castle of Sandersia. The idea was to be all together in wholesome fun, so that Remus and Roland got relaxed and managed to befriend each other. I didn’t expect how bad this would turn out to be. We were at the beach, when suddenly…

[flashback scene]

IRA: What is going on here? [yelling, calling the others] Guys! Guys, Roland and Remus are missing! Guys!

[the others hear them and start looking in all directions, trying to find them. Roman swims next to the beach]

ROMAN: I hope nothing happened to them.

[suddenly, Remus rises up from under the water]

IRA: Look, there is Remus, he was diving into the sea. But where is Roland!?

[Remus swims calmly without any concern at all]

IRA: Why is Remus so calm!? Did he have anything to do with this? This is suspicious as heck!

ROMAN: Remus! Remus, come here at once!

NARRATOR-ROMAN: We all accused Remus of doing something horrible to Roland. It wouldn’t help that Roland appeared floating on the sea. I was so horrified I couldn’t help it. The words just came out of my lips.

ROMAN: [also horrified] Remus, what have you done?

REMUS: [in despair] I did nothing! I swear! You have to believe me!

[Roman swims to the place Ian pointed at, until he reaches Roland. He’s unconscious, floating on the water]

ROMAN: [horrified] Oh, my goodness gracious, Roland! No!

[when he touches Roland, he flinches and opens his eyes]

ROLAND: [scared] What!? What’s going on!?

[Roland sinks into the water, getting out as quickly as he can, then looks at Roman and takes some ear plugs out of his ears]

ROMAN: Roland, you’re alive! Thank goodness, you scared the sh** [bleep] out of me!

ROLAND: I’m… sorry, Roman, I was floating on the water, with my ear plugs so that water didn’t enter my ears. I guess I got so relaxed that I fell asleep for a moment. I’m sorry I scared you.

ROMAN: Then that means… [looking at Remus, who watches the scene from afar] Oh, Remus!

[Roman returns as fast as he can to where Remus and the others are. Roland follows him from behind]

ROMAN: Remus, I’m so sorry!

REMUS: [serious face] How could you honestly believe I could do that to you, even for a second?

IRA: Well, it wouldn’t have been, like, the first time you had tried to do that…

REMUS: [yelling in a sudden outburst of wrath] I’m talking to my brother, not to you! I don’t give a f… [bleep] sh… [bleep] about what you think about me, you fake doodle! But I do care about Roman’s opinion and…

[tears burst out of his eyes. Remus turns around, then gets out of the water and approaches the deck chairs, not facing the others, who follow him a few steps behind]

ROMAN: I have no excuse. I can only tell you that I’m sorry and that I should have trusted you from the start.

REMUS: Yes, you should have. But you didn’t. And it seems no matter what I do to be better, you’ll never fully trust me, right?

NARRATOR-ROMAN: Remus had all the right to be upset. It was our fault. He dressed up and decided to return to the castle all alone, but before he left…

[Remus walks two steps, then, with a broken voice, he looks at Janus, with his eyes wet and red, and speaks]

REMUS: What hurts me the most is that… even you, Janus, had doubts about me… Even you, my love, thought me capable of…

[before Janus can answer, Remus starts running towards the castle. They can’t see his face, but they all notice clearly that he’s crying]

NARRATOR-ROMAN: Then Janus decided to go after him. If there’s anyone that can make him speak, that’s Janus. I hope he succeeds…

[intro sequence]

[Janus is knocking at the door of his room]

JANUS: Remus! Unlock the door right now! We need to talk!

REMUS: [voice from inside] I said, leave me alone! I don’t want to talk right now with anyone!

JANUS: Not even me? I’m your boyfriend, I need you to talk to me!

REMUS: Right, a fine boyfriend you are, not trusting me in something as bad as this! Don’t make me laugh!

JANUS: That’s not fair! I was the first to claim your innocence, even before Roland appeared! Does that not count?

REMUS: You had to use your sixth sense to figure that out, and until you did that, you were just like the others! You also thought me capable of doing that!

JANUS: I did not! I love you!

REMUS: You’re lying. And even if you aren’t, no matter how many fairy tales Roman has told you, love isn’t magical and it can’t fix everything, certainly not this! Now, again, leave me alone!

JANUS: Well, this is my bedroom too! Where do you want me to sleep, in the hallway?

REMUS: You’ll come up with something! This castle is full of rooms, I’m sure you’ll find somewhere else to spend the night. Now, go away!

JANUS: [sighs with a sad face] As you wish. Good night, my love.

[Remus doesn’t answer. The others arrive at that moment]

ROMAN: Any luck, Janus?

JANUS: No, I’m afraid not. He’s locked me out and doesn’t want to open the door.

ROLAND: That’s odd, these doors didn’t have a lock, to begin with.

ROMAN: Well, Remus can mold Sandersian reality at his will as much as I can. He probably created the lock himself to keep us out.

ROLAND: I see… Couldn’t you just… remove the lock, then, Roman, so that we could open the door?

JANUS: I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Forcing him to see us right now, when he’s so upset, could be counterproductive. It will be best if we leave him alone for the night. Maybe tomorrow, when we all calm down, we will see things clearer. But I’m gonna need somewhere else to sleep, guys.

IRA: Don’t worry about that. I have an extra bed in my room that I can get ready in a minute. You can sleep there tonight if you want.

JANUS: Thank you, Ira. Always on the rescue as usual.

IRA: Of course. That’s what friends are for, buddy.

ROMAN: If tomorrow everything stays the same, Virgil and I can sleep in the Royal Suite and you can sleep in our room. That way you’ll be closer to him, even if with a wall between you.

JANUS: Thanks, Roman.

ROMAN: Well, I don’t think we’re gonna gain anything by staying here staring at the door. The sun is setting. Let’s go have some dinner, then call it a day. Maybe, with some sleep, our minds well be clearer, even Remus’.

[They all go to the dining room. Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Remus is lying on the bed, with his face on the pillow, which is soaking wet in his tears and stained with his makeup. The pillow drowns his otherwise loud whining sounds as he grabs the sheets with both hands in despair, almost tearing them off. Times goes by and it’s night. The corridor outside the bedroom is quiet, until Thomas and the Sides approach their doors to go to bed, saying goodnight to each other. A few seconds later, when all the doors are closed, Janus approaches Remus’ door with a plate of food, and knocks the door softly]

JANUS: Remus, it’s me. You don’t have to open the door if you don’t want to. I’m here to bring you some dinner. You haven’t eaten anything in hours, and if I know you, and by now I know you well, in your state you probably haven’t summoned anything to eat. Please, have some dinner, at least do that for me. [Remus doesn’t answer. Janus sighs with a sad expression] I expected this. I don’t know if you’re asleep or if you just don’t want to talk to me, but I’m leaving the plate at the door. If you’re awake, please, take it and eat it when I’m gone. Don’t see me again if you don’t want to, but I beg you, don’t harm yourself, either physically by starvation, or mentally by gloating in your own misfortune caused by our mistake, it would kill me. I love you. I’m completely honest when I’m saying that I love you, and that I’m sorry I failed you today. Good night, my love.

[Janus leaves the plate on the floor in front of the door, then, he touches the door with a face of longing and leaves the hallway. After a couple of minutes, the door opens, and Remus grabs the plate, then looks at the empty hallway with a sad face. His cheeks are completely covered in dry blue stains of crying his makeup away, and his mustache is tilted and half-off]

REMUS: I love you too, Janus. Sleep well, my love.

[Remus closes the door behind him. The night goes by and morning comes. As usual, when Thomas wakes up, all the other Sides wake up too. Remus, in his room, wakes up and looks at the empty spot at the bed where Janus would have laid. He sighs, then gets up. He didn’t even take his green suit off and slept the whole night wearing it, so it’s completely disheveled and wrinkled, with the green sash half-untied. He looks at the mirror and sighs]

REMUS: [ironic] Ready for the Met Gala, am I not? It’s ironic that, when I’m feeling most serious, my appearance is the most disgusting, and when I’m more in the mood of disgusting someone, my appearance becomes so regal… Well, we’ll have to fix that, Remus, don’t we?

[Remus snaps a finger, and his face and outfit look neat and clean again. He sighs again]

REMUS: Okay, Remus… the show must go on. I won’t give anyone the excuse that this all failed because I didn’t try hard enough. [forcing himself to smile madly] Time to shine again!

[someone knocks at the door. Remus points at the door and the lock disappears]

REMUS: [singsong voice] It’s o-o-open!

[Janus comes in]

JANUS: Good morning, Remus. How… how are you today?

REMUS: [with a mischievous smile and his usual tone of voice] Oh, a good night of sleep can do wonders on someone’s mood! I’m better than ever. Don’t you see me? I’m brighter than a star and ready to wreak havoc again!

[Janus approaches Remus. While doing so, he notices the plate he left last night, empty on a table. Then he looks at the bed and notices the stains of makeup and tears on the pillow. On the verge of crying, he looks at Remus, then hugs him by surprise]

JANUS: I’m really sorry, Remus. I’m sorry I failed you.

REMUS: [hugging Janus back, tapping gently his back with his usual mischievous talk] Okay, okay… easy, my sweet anaconda, don’t strangle me with your embrace just yet. It’s too early in the morning for that and I just got dressed…

[Janus looks at Remus]

JANUS: I know you’re pretending, Remus. I only hope I can amend all the pain I am causing you.

[a rictus of pain appears on Remus’ face and his masquerade falls apart]

REMUS: You are the only one I can’t fool with my acting. Yes, it still hurts, but it will stop, eventually. I know that your love for me is real, and I’m gonna fight for it, even against myself if I have to. Because the alternative… would be even worse, because… I don’t wanna stop loving you. [with a dramatic glance at Janus, breathing heavily] For f… [bleep] ‘s sake, I won’t stop loving you!

[Remus gives Janus a long kiss, then he hugs him, grabbing him as if he was afraid Janus would disappear if he let him off]

JANUS: I only hope I can make myself worthy of your love for me.

REMUS: [looking at Janus in the eye] Don’t say that. You are already worthy of it. Don’t base your own value just on how much love or hate you receive from others, not even me. It’s not a good path to walk by. Believe me, I’ve walked it myself and it’s not healthy, cause the first who has to value you is yourself. I could only start healing my soul when I understood that. You made a mistake. A terrible mistake, indeed, but a mistake nonetheless. And we all make mistakes, me more than anyone else. I have no right to demand you to be perfect when I myself am far from it. I forgive you and I hope you forgive me for kicking you out of our room last night. [hugging him again] How I’ve missed you, even in my sleep.

JANUS: That’s already forgotten, Remus. And I missed you too.

[Roman approaches the open door]

ROMAN: Good morning, guys. I’m glad to see that you… fixed things up. Sorry to interrupt you.

REMUS: Good morning, Roman.

ROMAN: Remus… I don’t know how to say I’m sorry. I accused you of a horrible thing without any proof and I shouldn’t have done that. I… I’ll understand if you want to leave right now and go back to your room in the Mind Palace. I won’t complain.

REMUS: What are you talking about, Roman? We still have six days left of vacation and I’m not giving them up! Besides, Thomas counts on us. Remember that quarantine was making him crazy and he needs these days of relax in the Mind Palace as much as we do. So I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here and hope that you all stay here too as we planned.

ROMAN: Then, that means… that you don’t hate me? You’re not mad at me?

REMUS: Not so fast. I never hated you, Roman, but I’m still mad at you. You’re right, what you did was horrible, and it hurt me real bad… [noticing the stained pillow, he makes a subtle gesture with his finger to clean it magically before Roman notices it as he enters the room] … you’ll never know how much. But… You are my brother. You are literally the only true family of blood I have. I can’t hate you. Besides, it took me literally 20 years to gain your love and acceptance, and you’re gonna need much more than what you did yesterday to make me want to throw them away. I’ll let it all slide if you just…

ROMAN: What?

REMUS: Promise me that next time, if something like this happens again, you won’t jump to conclusions before listening to me and allowing me the chance to defend myself. It’s something that anyone would ask for, not just me. I know I’m a madman with a stick of deodorant and a mace…

JANUS: Not accurate at all.

REMUS: …but I would never ever do anything that would cause you true despair. I know you love your brother Roland. I even know you love him more than me.

ROMAN: Remus, that’s not…

REMUS: Yes, it is, and it’s only natural, you’ve lived with him all the years that you wouldn’t let me, so it’s natural that you love him more, and I’m not blaming you. The point is that I know that losing your brother would destroy you, and I would never do that to you. There was a time when my old bitter self would have done it, but you know very well I’m no longer that Remus. I don’t care what Ira, or the others, or even Thomas thinks about me. But I love you, Roman, I was part of you, literally. That’s why it hurt me so much that you could think I could do that to you.

ROMAN: I love you too, Remus. Much more than what you think. And of course I promise. So, could you please… give me a hug?

REMUS: [sighs] I really should just crush your skull with my mace, but a hug will work too. Come here, brother, but don’t get too effusive, we don’t want to fuse in front of Janus, do we?

[Roman and Remus throw their arms around each other and squeeze each other tightly while Janus watches the scene with a proud smile]

ROMAN: I was so worried about you, Remus. Last night, I thought I was going to lose you.

REMUS: Don’t worry about that. Bickering and fighting to death from time to time is what brothers do, isn’t it? They always survive their battles, and they don’t love each other any less because of that.

ROMAN: Yeah, you’re right. And now… let’s go have some breakfast. And then, the day is yours, Remus. You decide what we do and where. I’m dedicating my day to you and only to you. It’s the least I can do to compensate you for what’s happened.

REMUS: I’ll think about it while we have breakfast… Roland can come with us too if you want to. After all, the point is that we get to know each other, isn’t it?

ROMAN: It is, Remus, thank you.

REMUS: You come too, Janus. If these two insane guys try something against me, I want to have someone to defend me.

JANUS: [chortles] You dork… As if you weren’t the insanest guy in this whole principality.

REMUS: Touche.

[Roman, Remus and Janus get out of the bedroom, heading to the dining room to have breakfast. Later in the day, Roman, Remus, Janus and Roland get out of the castle riding horses. Janus, really scared as it is the first time he’s ever ridden a horse. The others are more experimented, so they ride more naturally. After they’ve only ridden a couple of miles away from the castle, Janus’ mare stops]

JANUS: [grabbing to the mare with the same panicked face a cat would sport if he was clinging to something to avoid touching water]I’m totally not scared at all, what are you talking about? Seeing a snake on a horse or mare is not the most ridiculous scene anyone could ever see, at all.

REMUS: Relax, Janus, it’s easier than you think. Just hold the bridle and try to communicate with your mount. Make her see where you want to go, be one with her, and it will all be fine.

JANUS: It’s easier said than done, Remus. All of you have had years of practice in horse riding. I’m a mess of a jockey!

REMUS: We’re still on time to turn back. Do you want to sit behind me on my horse?

JANUS: That’s the most ridiculous idea you’ve ever had, Remus… [begging] Please?

REMUS: Okay, calm down, Bowler Handsome, I’m coming to the rescue.

ROLAND: You could have said that you had never ridden a horse in the first place, Janus. We could have done anything else so as not leaving anyone behind.

[while moving to Remus’ horse, sitting behind him]

JANUS: I though it would be easier to ride a horse. I was wrong, and it was Remus’ idea, I didn’t wanna spoil it.

REMUS: It’s okay, now. [Remus creates a horseman riding Janus’ previous horse] Take the horse back to the castle.

[the horseman nods and rides the horse away]

ROLAND: [freaking out] He… appeared out of nowhere… Is that how you create people here in Sandersia, so easily? Was it that easy for me to appear, Roman? Just snapping your fingers and I was there? It makes me feel so tiny…

ROMAN: You aren’t tiny, Roland. You are my brother.

ROLAND: Only because you imagined me so, Roman. But if I appeared as easily as that horseman… what could have stopped you from imagining me completely different? Like a servant in the palace, or a farmer or a peasant anywhere else… This reminds me that I’m at your mercy all the time and that my life isn’t mine at all, if I ever had a real life at all. I call myself a prince, but I’m… so worthless…

ROMAN: Calm down, Roland. Your life is very real, and it is yours and no one else’s. I only imagined you the way you were at your beginning, but it was you who shaped your own life with your life choices, and nobody else will ever be like you because of that. Only you can be Prince Roland of Sandersia, no one else can be. That makes you unique, and valuable, not only for me but for anyone else who gets to know you, because there will never be two like you. That’s one of the many reasons why I and so many others love you, Roland. Don’t doubt it.

ROLAND: [sighs] Thank you, Roman… I’m sorry, everyone, it’s just that I freaked out a little bit when you did that, Remus.

REMUS: I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…

ROLAND: It’s okay. Let’s just go about our day, okay? Will you two be comfy in a single horse?

REMUS: Hold on to me, Janus. [wiggling his eyebrows with a mischievous smirk] You know I always love when you hug me like that from behind…

JANUS: [blushing] Remus! Shut up and don’t let me fall!

REMUS: Never… to both things.

[Janus sighs and holds tightly to Remus while he smirks. Then they all go on riding their horses. After some time riding through the forest, they find a huge waterfall. They all get down of their horses and sit on a nearby rock]

JANUS: This place is not beautiful at all…

ROMAN: I know, right? Roland and I used to come here to play when we were younger. Remember, Roland?

ROLAND: How could I forget? It was our secret place, where we always went when we wanted to run away from our responsibilities and have some time for ourselves. I can’t even count how many times we splashed water from the waterfall on each other. Then father always went furious when he saw us returning all wet. Remember, Roman?

ROMAN: [sighs] Seems like only yesterday.

REMUS: [also sighs, but with a sad face instead] It sounds so fun… At least, vanishing me far away allowed you to have such a wonderful life… A life I will never know…

ROMAN: Sorry, Remus, we didn’t mean to bring back ghosts from your past.

REMUS: Nah, it’s okay. I was just thinking out loud… as usual in me. Didn’t mean to break your nostalgic mood.

ROLAND: How… how was your life in that island… if I may ask?

ROMAN: I don’t think it’s a good idea that we make him remem…

REMUS: It’s fine, Roman, I don’t mind answering to that. After all, it is my life. It’s not like avoiding talking about it is gonna change the past. The first years… were tough. With the jewel that Roman gave me, I could make myself a little home. You took care to leave on the jewel just enough of your power to summon that and not a boat so that I could try and follow you. Then, I just learned to survive by myself. The island had resources enough so that I wouldn’t starve. It had trees with fruits and a little well with an endless supply of fresh water.

ROMAN: I left those there before I brought you. I couldn’t leave you to die of thirst or starvation, could I?

REMUS: We’re Sides of Thomas, Roman. That couldn’t kill us. But certainly, without those things, my life would have been miserable, as the feelings of extreme hunger and thirst would have been very real, and not pleasant at all, not even for me. So, I thank you for that.

ROMAN: You’re welcome. I wish everything had been different back then.

REMUS: But I meant that it was tough because… I still couldn’t understand. Everything I felt for you was love, an unconditional brotherly love. I revered you like only a brother can revere another brother. I was too young to understand what I could have done that could have upset you so bad that you would have wanted to get rid of me like that, and I tortured myself, day and night, trying to understand why. Now I do understand, but if only you had taken the time to teach me. If only you had had patience with me when I was so… destructive… everything could have been so much different. I eventually stopped making questions and just settled down with the fact that that was my life now, and I couldn’t escape it for the time being. A year or so after I was left in the island, I felt my summoning powers increasing. I started being able to summon bigger things. First, I turned my house into a manor, then into the castle you now know. I could also summon a boat, finally, but I had no way to know where to go in the sea to find you, so, it meant nothing for me.

[Roman, Roland and Janus listen to Remus, not saying a word, with emotional faces]

REMUS: You already know about when I started turning into a Dark Side due to Roman’s constant repression of me, and what I did with the infamous black cauldron that almost killed Thomas, so I won’t say it again. The point is that, when I finally turned into a Dark Side, that was a point of no return for me. It was one thing that you had left me in the island, but putting that curse into me – because I knew from the start that was your doing, Roman, even if you did it unconsciously – I thought it was an uncalled act of gloat on your behalf and… I guess that’s when my mind definitely clicked out in the wrong way. It was then when I started hoarding anger, and hatred, and thirst of revenge towards you, feelings that only grew stronger as years went by. And when, a few months ago, I suddenly felt the beacon sign that allowed me to know where exactly you were on the other side of the sea… Well, you both know the rest, right?

ROLAND: And that’s when it all happened… When you almost deleted me from existence, just as easily as you created that horseman…

REMUS: Again, Roland, I’m sorry. I won’t say that it wasn’t me who did that, because I would be lying and Janus would call me out immediately, but I changed and I’m very sorry for everything I did when I was in that insanely bitter state of mind.

ROLAND: For many months afterwards, I was afraid of your mere mention, as if you literally were the boogeyman for me. It scared me that you would want to come back and finish what you started. I never mentioned this before, not even to Ira, but I’ve spent whole nights without sleep, too many. I was afraid that, if I dropped my guard and fell asleep, you’d enter through the window and… I’d never sleep again.

[Remus sighs with a face of huge regret]

REMUS: You were right, Roman…

ROMAN: On what?

REMUS: My actions had consequences and I can’t move on from them until I face these consequences. And boy, how I am facing them right now. I never cared to be the bad guy… but now that I see how much of a bad guy I’ve been… I don’t like it. I’m so sorry, Roland. I really am.

ROLAND: Well, I guess that’s just how the story went. We can’t turn its pages backwards, I guess. I just hope that, by understanding each other better, we both can start moving on and driving our own demons away.

REMUS: Even if I am your demon?

ROLAND: For the conversations we’ve been having lately, I’m beginning to understand that you are not my demon anymore. My demon is the old version of you which I hope never comes back. If what you said about no longer being that Remus is true, I have no problem in considering you a friend, just like the other Sides.

REMUS: [heartwarming emotional smile] Thank you. It really means the world to me.

ROMAN: [also emotional] This is all I wanted to gain from this experience, and my wish is coming true. Thank you, to both of you.

REMUS: Happy to oblige, brother.

ROLAND: Me too, brother.

[both Remus and Roland hug Roman]

JANUS: Well, guys. I think it’s time to come back. I’m in the mood for having lunch with the others.

REMUS: You’re right. I’m hungry too.

[they all ride their horses again and go back to the castle. At the door, they find Thomas]

ROMAN: Hi, Thomas, what’s up?

THOMAS: Thank goodness you’re okay!

ROMAN: Wait, what? What’s wrong, Thomas?

THOMAS: I can’t find any of the Sides or Ira anywhere.

ROMAN: What? How is that so?

THOMAS: I don’t know, I stayed in my room for a few minutes, with my laptop, proofreading one of my new scripts…

ROMAN: Thomas, I told you we’re on vacation! You promised you wouldn’t work on anything during this break. You shouldn’t even have brought your laptop in the first place!

THOMAS: It was just proofreading, in a way it’s a form of entertainment too… Wait, the point is that when I came out of my room, I couldn’t find anyone. They were all gone.

ROLAND: Maybe they’ve gone out for a walk all together. It is a fine day, after all…

THOMAS: If they had done something like that, I think they would have asked me to join them, don’t you think? They wouldn’t have left me all alone in my room without at least warning me they were leaving. Besides, I asked some servants in the castle, and no one has seen them leaving the castle at all.

ROMAN: That’s odd…

JANUS: It’s true that this look suspicious. Where could they be? Roman, you said you could locate anyone on Sandersia. Can’t you check where they are now?

ROMAN: I can locate any character in Sandersia and bring them to my presence… but they’re Sides, I cannot sense their presence like that.

ROLAND: Well, if Ira is with them, maybe you can locate him? Inside Sandersia, he’s a character, or so you said.

ROMAN: Yes, you’re right, maybe I could try to locate Ira. Let me see… [Roman closes his eyes and concentrates. After a few seconds, he opens his eyes again] This is weird, I can’t locate Ira. And you are right, Roland, I should be able to locate him, or at least his Sandersian body around his real Sprite form. Maybe he left Sandersia and is somewhere in the Mind Palace as a Sprite?

REMUS: Roman, let me try too. I am also Creativity. My range of detection is not as great as yours, but here in the continent I can detect all Sandersians nearby. If Ira is in the continent, maybe I can find him.

ROMAN: Okay, Remus. Maybe you’ll be luckier than me.

[Remus closes his eyes and concentrates. After a couple of seconds he opens his eyes]

REMUS: I found Ira! He’s 20 miles northeast from here.

ROMAN: That’s weird! Why didn’t I sense him?

REMUS: There’s something else, Roman. I detected a strange aura around him… a dark aura.

JANUS: A… dark aura? What do you mean a dark aura?

REMUS: I don’t know, that’s what I sensed… [suddenly in pain] Aw! My head!

ROMAN: [scared] Remus, are you okay?

REMUS: It’s… like if… Ira was taking control of me… from a distance… I…

[suddenly, Remus grins evilly]

ROMAN: Remus?

“REMUS”: [with a totally different voice] So… you’ve found me? I don’t care, it’s too late already.

JANUS: You’re not Remus! Who are you!?

“REMUS”: Why, I’m Ira, of course. I thought you would have figured it out!

JANUS: Ira? Did you fly all the way here to bite Remus or something? What are you doing?

IRA: I don’t need to bite him anymore to take a toll on him. And don’t worry, I don’t need your crazy boyfriend other than for leaving you a message. Do not try to stop me. If you do, your friends will pay the consequences, starting with your dear Ian.

JANUS: I… you can’t be Ira, there’s something in you that tells me you’re not. If you try to do something to my brother, or to our friends, I…

IRA: You have been warned. It’s been quite difficult to fulfill this part of my plan, and you won’t spoil it. The Dark Master will return, and there’s nothing you can do about it! Mark my words!

[suddenly Remus loses consciousness. Janus grabs him before he falls to the ground]

JANUS: Remus! Remus, are you okay?

[Remus opens his eyes]

REMUS: I… I think so… Aw, my head… it still hurts…

THOMAS: [angry and concerned] Not again… Not him again! I thought we got rid of him, but he always returns and returns and returns!

ROMAN: Well, the original Light Master already warned us that there are still fragments of the Dark Master all over the Mind Palace, trying to set him free. Maybe one of those fragments took control of Ira, and it’s using him as a pawn for some plan.

ROLAND: What are we going to do, Roman?

ROMAN: You are doing nothing. This is too dangerous for you, Roland. It’s a mission for the Sanders Sides.

ROLAND: I’m not gonna stay behind when they’ve got Ira! He’s always been there to protect and assist me in everything I needed! I’m not gonna leave him when he needs me! And also, I’m the regent governor of this principality! It is my duty to protect it from its enemies too! And there’s also the fact that currently there are only three Sides available plus Thomas. You’re gonna need reinforcements. So don’t try to stop me, brother, because this is a battle that I’m gonna fight alongside you!

ROMAN: But…

ROLAND: Don’t waste any more time trying to convince me, Roman, because you can’t. I’ve said that I’m going with you, and I’m going with you!

ROMAN: [sighs] Okay… I cannot stop you if you’re so determined. But you better be careful, okay?

ROLAND: I promise, Roman. Now, let’s go rescue our friends!

[to be continued, guys, gals and non binary pals]

[ending card]

[a few minutes later, the gang has been prepping and is ready to go after Ira]

THOMAS: Okay, how are we going to do this?

ROMAN: Well, we’ll just follow the signal Remus received. We’ll make a plan when we get there.

REMUS: They’re far away, though. Maybe when we get there, they’ll be gone. And I don’t know if it’s safe to try and locate them again after what he did to me. Of course, I don’t care about the danger, but I don’t want to ruin the mission, or, even worse, do something bad to you if he takes control of me again.

ROMAN: If only the carriages worked as they’re supposed to. Yet it is only safe to go that fast through the royal roads around Sandersia, where only royal carriages are allowed to transit. We wouldn’t want to run over some unaware Sandersian or crash on any unexpected building, do we?

JANUS: Well, for sure the slowest medium of transportation is the one we’re using right now, standing still until it gets dark. Let’s get moving already.

ROLAND: You’re right, let’s go. But we will make a detour and make a couple of visits around town.

ROMAN: Around town? Do you think it is wise to do that right now?

ROLAND: I do, Roman, because we’re gonna need reinforcements. And I’ve got a tactical idea.

THOMAS: What do you mean?

ROLAND: Well, right now most of the Sides are missing. I think we’re gonna need help from some Sandersians that would very well fit in in this mission.

THOMAS: I’m not following you.

ROLAND: If Patton is missing, we’ll recruit the Dad Guy. If Logan is missing, we’ll recruit the Teacher Guy. And if that isn’t enough, we’ll get Brain, Sleep Guy, Printer, and any other character you can think about, Thomas. We may not be Sides, and we may not be as strong as you are individually, but we are proud Sandersians, and we’ll defend our homeland from any intruders that threaten its existence. We can make one heck of an army if we set our minds upon it, and not even a figment of the Dark Master will defeat us if we get together into serious business.

ROMAN: I’m so proud of you, Roland. You make a heck of a leader.

ROLAND: [putting his hand on Roman’s shoulder] I learned from the best. Now, let’s go. We’ve got a lot of people to call.

[the gang then starts walking, heading to town]

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #remus sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #dukeceit #romantic dukeceit #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #angst #aspects and fanfics

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unikornu · 3 years

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Alright! Finally got time again to shoot you some questions for the ask meme. For Lucy: A1, 2, 9, 14, 24. B1, 13, 16. C3, 4, 6. D2, 3. E2, 4. F2, 5, 10. G2. H1, 6, 8. I1. L2, 4, 9. Also for Harrison, finally someone who can use the K questions... K1, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10?

Hell yeah long post coming and i’m so happy with the K section,

Lucy:

A1. What of the Meyers-Briggs personality types they most fit into? INFP, ENFT, et cetera…

I actually took a test thinking how she would answer and i think i got it perfectly right. I wouldn’t pick it better just by reading all of them i think. She came out as Turbulent Entrepreneur (ESTP-T) which feels ok. “ Rules were made to be broken” - hell they were. Also “ If Entrepreneurs aren’t careful though, they may get too caught in the moment, take things too far, and run roughshod over more sensitive people, or forget to take care of their own health and safety.“

Judging by her action and the way of living she is like that. Going all the way, having hard time just by staying idle and ohh yee taking things too far without thinking of consequences. Like chasing an enemy and realizing she left her support far in the back and then dealing with difficulties by herself. Constantly going careless in combat, forgetting her own safety, thinking she will make it anyway but it comes back biting her in the ass.

Also she is not smart but she can see minor hidden things, be it while cracking some password on terminal or spotting who in the crowd wants to stab her in the back just by the change of their face expression so she might be stupid but still outsmart some folks and mechanics out there and that fits with the nature of the job she had before the war.

A2. What alignment are they? Chaotic neutral, lawful evil, et cetera…

I never played DnD games and so on so this one is hard but Neutral Evil - she is aware of her being on the bad side of a coin and is willing to do whatever it takes to make her wishes come true even if it means killing someone but she still have some self restrains and won’t go against the allies she is currently working with and friends she made on the way and of course innocent creatures. She has some base etiquette rules and isn't rotten to the bone but when she wants something nothing will stop her no matter the cost as long as it doesn’t strike her out of the game of harms current company. She is bad but not for sake of doing evil shit or proving something but just to do what she wants and get what she wants even if blood will spill.

A9. Does your OC make a lot of excuses? For themselves? Others?

She will sure make a lot of excuses for herself after fucking shit up or going way too ahead in combat. But only for herself. She is the type of pointing finger at others while tugging and biting her tongue just not to admit she wronged someone or something and avoid too many questions or yelling at.

A14. Is your character empathetic?

Despite being a bitch she is empathetic. But might show it a bit differently...like in a page i wrote for Halloween with that bunny mask. She didn’t chop that man only because he grabbed her ass but because he was using many other women poor financial situation just to have some easy sexy time and she did feel bad for them so...her empathy stroke in a solution of killing him instead of only knocking him out and caging. If someone would harass Lizzie or...i dunno Hector, someone she considers slightly weaker at standing up for themselves and is in her “social” circle or society part then she will show empathy by stabbing those who bother them with a fork in a eye, a bit extreme but that’s how she understands empathy. Someone is chaining and kicking a dog at settlement? She will chain that man onto the bridge and let him hang and die slowly and take a dog in Pack care. Gage complains that his gun got broken in a fight and can sense some sadness, she will run for a stealing caps heist to buy new one. So...she feels empathy but her answer to it can be...well unusual, brutal and extreme.

A24. What are some of your OC’s biggest personal obstacles? This could be emotional, physical, social… Are they aware of it? Are they trying to overcome it?

Type of question i hope i understood correctly :))

Fear of failing to deliver is her biggest personal obstacle. She was always scared, since childhood to fail at meeting certain expectations, be in it school for her mother who would change her mind bazillion times due to mental illness, then Harrison and fear of his eventual punishment mixed with mental abuse if she doesn’t carry her mission to the end, with Ian it was fear of failing at being the good loving partner due to her secrets and then comes whole town of raiders with Gage on top who have expectations of her and promise of certain small paradise if she delivers but...these fears always pushes her into actions more than she has to and it exhaust her mentally and can sometimes prove deadly, ending up in injuries that could have been avoided. She is aware of this but because it carried through her whole life its unavoidable.

Also she doesn’t interact much with a friendly society groups because even if she knows she is bad its not something she actually likes to hear. Coming to a small town just with intentions to have a drink and imagining that people will only show her a pistol barrel and tell her to fuck off because she is from within raider circle fills her with doubt so strong she just tends to avoid this kind of meetings.

How was the saying: “Don't tell a psychopath they're a psychopath, it upsets them” and she will get deeply upset.

B1. Do they believe you have to give respect to get it, or get respect to give it?

Get respect to give it. She doesn’t trust that people will respect her back if she puts effort so she won’t show respect even to great president of whatever wastes because she also doesn’t care if someone respect her but if they pull a hand out first she will shake it back. Her life is too risky and careless to think about gaining someone’s respect first.

B13. Do they have a large or small group of friends?

If she would consider all nuka town her friends then its big but...nope, small group. Its mostly Gage (even if they are partners they can be friends too), Lizzie, William, well...Mags too and along with that Mason later on once she gets his loyality and a few traders from which she keep connections with Maddox, Chip and Shelbie. From Far Harbor for sure Allan would be easy to gain as a friend. Longfellow is just a friend grandad <3. Harrison cannot be questioned, too scary to reject him. From Commonwealth i can’t yet get idea where she could get the best friend circle. Well aside from that whatever other oc’s out there who accept her bitchiness and way of being :)) but i don’t think she would make many friends out there, she is...well plain simple and dangerous.

B16. Does your OC like to be the center of attention or more in the mix?

Definitely in the center of attention, since she couldn’t be back then. Now that crime and killing is fully legal and there is no police chase other than some disgusted by her behavior minutemen she can be a in the center of a show and she likes it. A circus ring leader, hell yeah...well raiders can be clowns too from time to time. And let’s not start with parties and free time. She’s the first to get up on table to dance. It gets her a bit to realize things she can get away with but once she does she only misses there is no spotlight at the end of the fight, shining on her.

C3. Is it important for them to be with people (socially, intimately, whatever) whose major ideological tenets align with their own?

Major indeloghit....tents what? Good lord, i swear i’m too stupid for these kind of words but good i keep the dictionary close to me, right in the next tab.

Big yes. It’s not many people like her out there and she doesn’t want to flip her coin back to being good and peaceful towards rules of the world, she simply isn’t able to mentally change back anymore so in order to keep feeling like she still has a hole to belong to she needs to spend time with people like her to also boost her confidence that she isn’t the only one with broken mind out there seeking completion of her wishes through darker path. And knowing so isn’t leaving her in fear she will need to change her ways of life.

C4. Do they consider themselves superior or more important than anyone else? Lesser?

No. Even is she is the Overboss she rather rejects that title and prefers to be just a business partner with Gage. She doesn’t seek and need to feel important or superior, she only wants to feel useful around people she decided to blend in with and have a purpose, nothing else. The fact that she can strike orders around doesn’t fill her heart nor mind with some higher importance or value above other. Also she doesn’t considers her enemies lesser even knowing her skills, its just bad approach that can easily get one killed and she prefers stays on a same line with others. Be it friends or foes.

C6. What do they do when they see someone asking for money or food? If they ignore them, why? If they help, how so?

Depends in what state that person is, she was the liar herself so she can spot one if its an actual person in need or just lazy poor soul. She will usually tho just toss a few caps and walk away without listening or hearing more from that person. She doesn’t want to struggle with a morality remaining deep in her brain if she did right or not so she will just deal with it fast and walk away, telling them to fuck off if they will follow her. These kind of people are like those annoying reminders in a shape of beggar poking her and making think if she still has some pure humanity left so...she wants to be just done with that part. But animal coming up to her is a different deal, here humanity will always strike unless its a seagull stealing her meal, then her humanity part will shrink and there will be a rock thrown in the air after that birb, as a survival contest.

D2. Do they believe in an afterlife?

She never gave it a longer thought. She cares about here and now but if she would meet someone knowledgeable in that topic she would be willing to open her ears for few minutes longer and put the knife down. She doesn’t rejects religious topics as long as someone is not brushing a saint books or whatever right in her face. She has an open mind on more than just a mortal topics mostly because of Harrison.

D3. How comfortable are they with the idea of death?

She wasn’t scared of death before the bombs and when wandering through wasteland because she just didn’t care for her life and maybe that’s what made her most effective but this changed once she realized she can finally live a life she secretly wanted but was restricted before. Her strong desire of finally rejecting the dying part is what caused certain being to finally break away from her ;> well i wrote about it in last page so yassss

E2. Which of the nine types of intelligence is your OC strongest in? Weakest? (Linguistic, existential, naturalist, et cetera)

The strongest is surely the Bodily-Kinesthetic Intelligence, she was trained to the bone and with her careless nature she is mostly depended on her physical skills and putting them into perfect timing. Even if she got a bit rusty after bombs the return of Harrison will bring her back into the right gears of phasing like speed and combat thinking.

Weakest could be probably the Intra-personal Intelligence mostly because even if she understand her actions she isn’t very good at analyzing it any deeper other than “i want that man’s money cus i want that”, i guess....i could describe it like that. I cant really get any deeper or more detailed into this because there is for sure one thing i share with Lucy....we are simple minded simpletons but..i might be a bigger one :)))

E4. Did they enjoy school if they went to it?

At the beginning she didn’t enjoy any school as other students would consider her a weirdo because of her mother which would sometimes show up, uncalled at school and act really weird but later when she decided to stand up for herself after meeting Harrison as a kid ....others in school didn’t enjoy that change as much as she became seen as a pretty bully girl being overly extreme into serving “justice”. The only classes she enjoyed tho were gym and biology ones as she wasn’t scared to cut a frog but others seeing her just chopping it like a piece of ham could...weighted on her reputation. Also she always joined like a sport/cheerleader groups to have less problems with teachers as it was bringing school good reputation and she was fairly flexible and with high stamina so it was also easy for her. So from being bullied she became popular bully girl of sort. She got hooked on law later on because she wanted indeed to serve some justice, in a peaceful manner at start. So all in all she didn’t enjoy school at start but then she didn’t mind it as she took business in her hands, a bit over the edge but well...bully with some feelings eh? I don’t have many details as to what exact type of school she would go but another reason she would enjoy sitting at school once she became the one in charge is to spend less time at home with her confusing mother so she would be staying late for some extra gym trainings, sweating her emotions off.

F2. What’s their ideal home look like? Where is it?

In Porter’s rough, dirty yet soft heart stuffed in his sweaty smelly top.

She can call Fizztop an ideal home of sort. The weather in Nuka World strikes her preferences and even since she was strolling with Harrison from time to time there before the war she just loved that place and beside the first deadly visit there they made a good memories there, father and daughter like. She prefers her home to be placed inside the town as she hates sleeping in open spaces even if its a single house on top of a hill. She just feels too lonely and insecure. It’s weird to say that but she feels safer to sleep in a town filled with raiders than alone in the wild.

F5. How handy are they? Can they fix appliances, cars, cabinets, et cetera?

Fairly handy but on a level of fixing a broken car mirror with a duck tape or just gluing shit together hoping it will hold long enough before it breaks again. If she would fix a door handle it would most probably end up upside down on the other side of the door. And if shit breaks again...she will just shrug and glue it same way again or at least add one more layer of duck tape. Sometimes she will try to convince herself she knows what wire to put where when it comes to electric appliances but she only knows cars and car still ain’t a toaster so....electric shortage and fizzy hair incoming. She needed a manual on shoving a cable inside a robot so yeah. But when it comes to fixing clothes she is as good as with cars. Even if some parts can be similar like in car engine of sort she still has hard time to connect the dots if seeing something like half similar. So give her a broken car/truck/any clothing she will swing a wrench or needle and fix that shit in no time but hand her a tv pilot or spoken toaster and she will just look at it and ponder..deeply.

F10. Do they engage in any of the arts? How good do you intend them to be? Would they agree they are?

Arts...with her only painting comes to my mind but not like painting a landscape but more things like a car painting, pack faces and more abstract stuff which she learned again in Sapphire club with Rosey due to many events that were having certain themes so they needed to do body paints and so on.

I don’t know if dancing is any kind of art but i can imagine her discovering that pole dance but on a level of these sport like competitions. Lucy is flexible and has enough strength to try to perform this kind of stuff since from already school times she was doing a lot of gym and sport in general.

As to how good she would be at these probably not like perfectly good to very details because even she doesn’t have need to be horribly good. Needs to be good enough to just make her happy and she doesn’t have high standards in these topics. I dunno why i found that question slightly tricky....

G2. Who makes up your OC’s family, at least the more important members to them?

The only family she had was her mother since her father left once he could no longer bear with her mental issues and bringing stranger men to house and then getting pregnant with her. I didn’t build up yet like a bigger family tree but..yeah it was just her mother and her most of the time.

H1. What is your OC’s orientation, romantic and/or sexual? Has it ever been a source of stress for them? Have they always been pretty sure of their orientation?

She is 100% heterosexual when it comes to her orientation both romantic and sexual. She can flirt with same sex but that would only include situations when she needs to finish her job or reach some other goal, no feelings involved whatsoever.

H6. Has your OC ever cheated on anyone or been cheated on?

She didn’t catch Ian neither Gage to cheat on her. She tends to flirt with other men like William but wouldn’t take it as far as to sleep with him or do it on purpose to hurt her partner feelings so...she doesn’t cheat. She still has SOME backbone.

H8. What’s your OC’s idea of a perfect date?

She doesn’t have high needs when it comes to perfect date topic. As long as it involves alone time together without additional crowd and some beer she doesn’t care if they sit in a fancy bar or on some building stairs. Perfect date is any that includes relaxed talk, joking, alcohol and a happy ending in bed together. Extra points for bringing her nicely cut flower. Despite being bully, killer and involved with raiders she was looking at late evenings at these white/grey romantic movies where couples were just doing simple things, walking late night together and so on, so her perfect date ain’t complicated.

I1. What are their favorite kinds of flavors– Sweet, salty, sour, spicy, creamy, et cetera?

As long as its not slimey and gooey like she’s okay. If something of mentioned above would slip into her food she will just puke it out instantly. She prefers salty and sweet tho as her pre-war diet was mostly like so. Salted hard boiled eggs with grilled tatos topped with pinch of salt again and then 200 years old cotton candy for dessert or potato crisps. She eats meat too but like fried till its crunchy.

L2. What do you consider the biggest themes in your character, if any?

Brain error so i hope i understood this right:

Leaning into the evil side of the society fully confident it’s the only and last right choice to achieve true happiness and satisfy the already croocked mind.

L4. Would you hang out with your OC if you could?

In my real life probably yes but even i would be slightly nervous around her because she tends to bend towards very extreme solutions if some problems would arise or someone would make me angry (due to her empathy) but in fallout universe hell yeah, i’m just not sure i would be in a physical capability to keep up with her but i wouldn’t mind to get a legendary cane..along with it...But yeah, i would like to hang out for a beer and see her beat some stupid folks and maybe give a her a friendly hug to remind her she isn’t that bad and she will be fine....and apologize for burning her hands lol. If she would find out i’m her creator..oh boy, i’m sure she would beat me with my own cane over the head.

L9. How did you come up with your OC?

I had different OC design before but she was actually just a general good joking hero, she even had a brother but that got lost later on and that male oc was left just for MMO’s as an additional character. Then a lot of things happened in my life and because i was gaming since early childhood like Norton times and..the pixelated Blizzard Blackthorne it also affected my rpg and game choices in general, like whole way of thinking since gaming was and is big part of my life. I was curious what would happen if i take my oc through the mental change grinder and push it to the edge, towards losing the patience for justice systems and add a pinch of evil mixed with some trauma to give her some reason to choose that path. And there she is. Her face features didn’t change much, neither body type and so on but her mentality is hell of a different and i just...love her. She isn’t perfect, neither that horribly bad but i’m very pleased with how she came out. I threw a glove and was done with playing hero at some point because of life experiences and she came out of my cauldron as a best way to peacefully calm down. As for Harrison he was suppose to be just a small mention in pre-war diary but for some reason my brain pushed it forward and i really don’t mind him as an extra OC. Besides Lucy needs someone to watch over her.

Allllrighty, Harrison time:

K1. Does your OC have to keep their paranormal aspect (PA) a secret from general society? If so, how? I.e., they can’t discuss their abilities, they have to hide a tail, they have an alter-ego, et cetera. What would happen if society found out about it?

Yes, he has to hide his powers. He is one of a kind and experiment never got finished so his powers are something no one seen before. I’m sure that lab is still buried somewhere near Sanctuary deep in forests containing old data and so on but the place got abandoned and no one found it yet. I can imagine tho that the cryo vault could have been like a last remaining section cut off from the rest as it also was touching a subject of immortality...i mean..a way of not aging. Usually the green smoke will always rise from his body and eyes at times so he prefers to hide his face under the hat and keep fully covered body with that long brown coat and thick gloves. Also he doesn’t look very friendly so it helps him keep folks at distance before they notice something unusual. I can’t imagine how people would react if they knew about his powers but they for sure would be just wary and scared i think. And all in all he has a synth skeleton so more hate from most of the Commonwealth population. He also needs to keep his emotions at check as his powers are driven by a strong sense of desire so if he would really really want to harm someone he would have harder time at controlling his powers before they snap. That’s why he is always so...stoic and calm.

K3. Does your OC have any friends who know about their PA? Any enemies?

Lucy suspected before and she has a memory from childhood, then she finds out herself on a go and Gage also knows because he was present during the event. Later on she tells Lizzie and Chip Morse because she needs help to repair his synth broken body due to how the...separation came out. Harrison doesn’t tell anyone else unless its necessary. The only enemy out there would be the lead scientist if he somehow survived the bombs and is still out there, looking for him.

Also...i didn’t mean to make it like that but its just how it came out due to most...common and fast thought design. That lead scientist had grey hair and wore a black mask on half of his face....and that would make the air even more rotten between...someone particular out there :))

K5. Does your OC feel isolated or unrelatable due to the experience their PA brings with it? If so, how do they deal with it?

He does feel lonely since he is too afraid to meet new people or even spend too much time in a bar. He would mostly stick to lone table in a corner, being too afraid on not controlling his powers if his mind and emotions lose breaks. He was a family man, not perfect father but still, getting that taken away and changing your life 180 degrees can sometimes upset him and the only way to cool down is just to stick to people he can trust which is Lucy and her gang. Its his only family now. He doesn’t push away the idea of trying again, meeting a woman, making a family, being a better father but is just too scared of that. Also he doesn’t need much sleep as normal person so...this doesn’t help him either.

K6. Does their PA cause issues in daily life? I.e., if they’re inhuman in a human universe and they can’t go to a doctor or risk the doctor realizing they are not human, super abilities with physical drawbacks, they don’t have control of their abilities and must keep to themselves, et cetera… If so, how do they feel about it?

It causes him a lot of issues. Despite hot weather he still needs to keep his clothes on to not reveal the power radiating from him. His hat always in crowds, even inside the buildings to not risk shining with his eyes too much. Shades can help tho at times. But people might find it weird, accuse him of being another synth and attack him and that would cause more problems because if he snaps people will see his powers. He needs to keep his head low all the time and just act as a shady dangerous mercenary, out of unnecessary questions and troubles.

K7.Does your OC’s PA affect their dietary habits so that they are unusual or problematic by their society’s standards?

Even if he actually doesn’t need to eat he still will because he isn’t fully synth but just himself in a form of soul trapped in such a body. His eating habits are still the same as they were but..he might overdo his craving at times...eating like a kilograms of food just because he remembered it was his favorite and he wants it now and he will feel the taste and satisfaction but because his stomach isn’t human he doesn’t feel when he is full so....yeah. Eating whole cart of cotton candy at one go. It might feel weird to people who don’t know him but he is a big man so they might assume it’s maybe because of his size...and just being freaking hungry.

K8. What are some routines, if any, of self-care that your OC must engage in that are not typical of their society? I.e., having to file their teeth, maintaining magical rituals, drinking blood…

He needs to meditate like a lot to keep his powers better contained and controlled since they sync with his mindset.. Sometimes he will do it for hours, be it standing, siting, he will just disconnect and meditate.

K9. Does your OC have knowledge that they can’t share with the rest of their world that could improve it if it didn’t cause chaos? I.e., a character from the future knowing about technology not yet invented, but they can’t reveal themselves by sharing it

He is the only one knowing the location of the lab but he keeps that knowledge only to Lucy. He can’t imagine what could happen if they would create armies of....entities like him. Being able to inject soul from body to body could solve a lot of health like issues and give a hell of disabled people new chance but you can never know what direction this could go.

K10. Would your OC give up their PA if they could? Why or why not?

Even if it ruined his life he wouldn’t give it up. He lost his family not because of who she became but because he was fucking irresponsible by taking his son to work and killing them both. His wife was furious and refused to take him home again even if she was freshly pregnant that time. His powers allowed him to protect her anyway without her knowledge and because he is at age he is, these powers still keep him as a extremely dangerous man able to fight. Even if giving it up could give him a better chance of starting a family again he prefers to be able to protect these that are still left in his life than failing or die trying. So he is over the grief and learned to live with how he is, accepting his powers and putting them to good use.

#rockshortage #fallout #ask meme #lucy feit #harrison #hell yeah i did it #not everything is very detailed but i think i again got all of dem right #and oh boy i was happy with that K section #if anything still needs details you can poke me bout them #thank you!#it kept me busy and happy after work

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sunsetsover · 5 years

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i’d love to read one of your posts about ben’s actions tonight? like, we all understand /why/ but you have such a lovely way with words and i like pain. thanks 🥺

thank you, you’re so sweet!! usually i like to answer asks in order but imma let u skip the queue just this once bc this one’s time sensitive and ur so nice 🥺

so……. where do i even begin w this……..

the thing is ben has such horrible self esteem issues and a lot of ppl (both characters on the show and ppl in the audience) don’t realize that bc he comes across as very confident and bold and unfazed by anything, but the thing is….. that’s a front…….. he is not confident, he is not bold (not when it really matters) and he’s affected by pretty much everything. like massively so. what other people think of him - particularly people he cares about - affects not only how he sees himself, but also how he behaves. he seems to almost want to be a self fulfilling prophecy - remember how everyone thought it was ben who hit phil over the head, so ben was like ‘well seeing as though everyone thinks i tried to kill him, i might as well actually do it’?? yeah. he’s very susceptible to allowing other people’s opinions on him dictate his opinions of himself, as well as the course of action he ends up taking.

so it’s very easy to see how that lead to what happened with callum and their date. ian making a comment about it? well ben gives back as good as he gets, and this is ian we’re talking about, who is as obtuse as they come. but you see as ben leaves the beale’s that despite seeming unbothered by it, that comment actually got to him. it got him thinking: what if ian was right? what if he has a point? literally ben was already doubting himself after a snide comment from ian, that’s how affected he is by other people’s opinions (and also that’s how much he cares about callum!). and then you’ve got jay piling on top of that, and ok maybe his comments were innocuous and maybe he had a point, but with what ian had already said? the doubts really start taking hold. like maybe ian isn’t just full of shit, not if jay’s thinking the same thing - jay, who probably knows ben better than anyone. so maybe he and callum aren’t right for each other. maybe they won’t work.

and then you’ve got stuart who just puts the giant fucking nail in the coffin. he sets the disaster snowball rolling down the hill. and he does it in a really clever, manipulative way too (it’s a similar type of manipulation we see ben use on callum when he sold him that van!): he disarmed ben with an apology and with this newfound openmindedness, offers ben an olive branch by saying ‘i care about callum and i think you do too’ - essentially lowering ben’s guard - and then goes in with the ‘bad things happen around you so you need to stay away from callum because i don’t want happened to paul to happen to him’. and that undoubtedly completely fucks ben up - we didn’t even really need ian and jay putting doubts in his head before that tbh, i think what stuart said would have been enough to screw ben up on it’s own. and you know, i think even with ian and jay’s comments, if stuart hadn’t said what he said they might’ve been alright. ben might be a little bit off, but it probably would have been recoverable. but as soon as paul was mentioned - as soon as what happened to paul was mentioned - it was all bets off the table. we’ve seen how much paul’s death still affects ben, how much he still blames himself. so to have stuart basically insinuate that yeah, what happened to paul was somehow because of ben and that the same thing might happen to callum - someone that ben obviously really cares about - again because of ben? it was game over. stuart softened him up then went right for ben’s rawest spot. like how the fuck was he supposed to recover from that in a matter of hours?

and yeah, he probably should have done the decent thing and just cancelled. but that’s not how ben’s brain works. ee have already established that doing this exact thing is a pattern of behaviour for ben - he broke up w the guy he was seeing (that he was into!) in newcastle for the exact same reason he purposely sabotaged his date with callum: because he ‘had to, because if anything had got, like, serious, then [ben] would have ruined his life’. those are ben’s exactwords. now who does that sound like? what kind of paranoia is that kind of thinking feeding into? this is what ben thinks about himself. this is what ben worries he’s going to do to the men in his life. like this is what ben does!!! which is why it really surprised me that some ppl thought his behaviour yesterday was OOC. it seems to me that if anything this behaviour is perfectly in line with both his character and his previous actions. and to be perfectly honest, i think if ben hadn’t tried to deliberately fuck it up now, then he probably would have eventually. at least if he’s doing this right at the very beginning the two of them have a chance of working through it.

so why didn’t ben just cancel? well callum would’ve wanted an explanation. and what could ben have said, when he had been so up for it until then? ‘sorry, a few people have talked some sense into me and i realized i like you too much to ruin your life’? that wouldn’t have worked. ‘i changed my mind’? callum’s gonna ask why. ‘something came up’? callum might ask for another date. and ben clearly likes callum quite a bit, and he knows as well as we do that if callum had asked him out again, he probably wouldn’t have been able to say no. so he thinks: i have to break this until there’s no chance of recovery. i need to destroy any chance there is for us, get rid of any interest callum has in me. i need to make him angry at me, because then he’ll stay away from me. i need to make him hate me, because if he hates me at least he won’t be hurting. and if i do have to hurt him, it’s better to hurt him now rather than further down the line when it will hurt him ten times more. it’s flawed thinking, obviously, but ben’s a flawed man with a lot of issues and no self esteem who thinks that a) he doesn’t deserve someone like callum and b) that he’ll only end up hurting him, or that callum will end up hurt because of him. so in his own fucked up way, he was really trying to protect callum - from ben himself, and whatever pain ben’ll inevitably (as far as he’s concerned) end up inflicting on him. (and don’t forget paul and what happened to him was now at the forefront of his mind too, so i’m sure that only made him even more determined to make sure he gets callum as far away from him as possible.)

so what does he do? he completely fucking destroys this date. invites other people along, pays callum no attention, makes 0 effort, literally cops off with someone else in plain view and then makes it clear he’s not bothered what callum thinks about it (although it backfired a little bit bc callum’s such a sweetheart and also has no self esteem so he went the ‘no hard feelings’ route which must have infuriated ben bc like no!! he was supposed to kick off!! swear!!! call ben a bastard!!! anything but be so painfully understanding!!!!) and he does all of this to basically fuck their relationship up beyond repair. bc if he does that then callum will be able to move on and find someone else, someone kind and safe and normal who won’t hurt him or fuck it up.

and i know it won’t make sense to some people, but he did all of it with the best intentions. with callum’s feelings in mind, not ben’s own - in fact, ben’s feelings and what he wants are practically redundant in this situation bc he’s so set on doing what he thinks is the best thing for callum. what ben wants and feels about it doesn’t matter.

and he manages to do a pretty good job of ignoring his feelings up until the very end, when he’s essentially alone. then - and only then - do we get to see how fucking upset ben is about the whole thing. like he’s sitting there drinking by himself trying not to cry! he’s fucking heartbroken! because his actions during the date, that wasn’t him wanting to be cruel or vindictive or hurt callum. that was him trying to protect callum (and i know, i know not everyone will understand or agree with that but i promise you that’s exactly what he was trying to do). his own happiness, his own feelings, they don’t matter. he’s fucking devastated, but it doesn’t matter. callum is safe now. he’ll be alright, and as long as callum’s alright, nothing else matters.

and the most telling part of it all? the fact that ben didn’t go home w that guy he’d been kissing earlier. he could have. he so easily could have - the guy was into him, he was up for it, and we know ben’s not opposed to random hook ups. but he didn’t. he wasn’t at all interested. why? because he wanted callum. he caresabout callum. he was just using that guy to make his point - that ben is bad and callum shouldn’t be interested in him bc because he can do better. he had 0 interest in that guy and the minute everyone was gone and no one was around to witness it, ben made that very clear - he didn’t even want fuck him as a rebound or to prove he doesn’t care about callum or whatever. he couldn’t even pretend.

like ben just really cares about callum and that’s exactly why he did what he did - because he thinks that it was the best and kindest thing to do.

idk i just hope that this helps give people a little bit of perspective on why ben did what he did bc i feel like some ppl were kind of unfairly harsh on him. the way he behaved was not at all fair on callum, and i don’t condone what he did, but as someone who has been there myself (not literally the same situation, but the same ‘i need to scare them off now so i don’t hurt them in the long run’ way of thinking) i can confidently say that it was from a place of good intentions. completely twisted and fucked up and unfair, yes, but his heart was (mostly) in the right place.

but yeah lmao i’m glad you like my way with words bc you just got a lot of them!!! and perhaps a lot of pain too lmao 💕💕

#ben mitchell #ballum #eastenders #GOD this is long sorry lmao #benthighway #question

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chinatea · 5 years

Text

Personas pirates a/b/o au! headcanon.

It’s loosely inspired by Black Sails and AC4: Black Flag. Takes place in Nassau from the alternative universe populated by the Korean people apparently.

Multi-couples.

(Sajeon also posted a pirate-y HC today and I swear that’s a total coincidence. I totally have no secret backdoor into your mind, Sajeon...or have I?)

------------

Who-is-who:

BG (Jiyeon, omega, 27): was seduced as a teen by a noble who lusted over him and after the said noble had enough of him, he lost BG in a game of cards to the slavers who took him all the way to the other side of the world (Nassau) and sold him to a local brothel there. Despite the tragic hand that the fate had dealt him, BG is nothing if not a master of making the best of his circumstances. If he was forced to become a whore, then he’d become the most coveted whore there is. But he became much more than that, the whole pirate’s corner of the world became his playground and he knew how to play the game better than anybody. The Queen-bee of the salty dogs, if you please.

Tattoo (Junghwan, alpha, 25): the saltiest dog there is. He is of noble origin, but found himself stifled by the life that awaited him as the oldest son, when all he wanted to do is to carouse and whore around and have mighty good time at all times, to hell with propriety. So, one day, he took off, simple as that, signing up for a buccaneer ship. Only his rebellious streak didn't end there. Tat has a real distaste for hierarchies unless he's on top of one. Barely a few months into his first voyage, he somehow managed to convince the crew to throw the current captain over the board and sail for Nassau instead for booty and...booty. (In my mind, Tat takes after Black Beard in some ways, cuz Black Beard is my fav char in AC4.) Tat is the closest with Christian, his first mate.

Christian, (Jiwon, omega, 23): comes second only to BG when it comes to a messed up past. Married against his will to an alpha twice his age, Chris failed to become a good little omega wife and silently endure his husband’s brutality as was expected of him. Once he’d had enough of beatings and rape, he slashed the fucker’s throat in his sleep and took to the streets. He cross-dressed as an alpha and ended up on the same ship Tattoo was on. The two grew close, so much so that Chris decided to confide in Tattoo and tell him the truth. Chris’s lie could stay undiscovered only for so long, especially in the open sea, so if things went south, at least Tat would have his back. And boy, did he ever. When the captain got suspicious about Chris’s status, Tattoo managed to stage a well-timed coup and turn the crew against the captain, taking his place and making Chris his first mate.

Ian (alpha, 32): The Black Hound of His Majesty. Also, the new governor of Nassau, appointed by the Queen himself (not a typo, omegas take the title of a Queen) in hopes of cleansing Nassau of all that pirate filth. Ian comes from a wealthy merchant family which allowed him to attend a prestigious state university and rub shoulders with the crème de la crème who, in turn, never failed to snidely remind Ian of his modest origins. That never stopped him, however, from graduating at the top of his year and successfully enter the Royal Navy as a captain of his own vessel and show extreme excellence at any mission he was given. For his service, he was eventually knighted and conferred a noble status at the age of 30. (There are plenty of speculations about the nature of relationship between Ian and the Queen, some saying that the only reason Ian was so quick to find himself a fiancée was to allay the uncomfortable rumors, while in reality...)

Diminie (Jisoo, omega, 21): Ian’s fiancée. Comes from an old and very noble family that could even rival the royal dynasty in the pureness of blood. Unfortunately, they have been in dire financial straits for a while now, but the solution was simple enough - find a wealthy suitor for Diminie and marry him off. Simple but not easy. There is only so many wealthy suitors available among the noble families with immaculate credentials, and most of them were either taken or not looking forward to burden themselves with the Parks debts. And this is how Ian comes into picture: filthy rich but not of noble origin, which would make the Parks scoff even at the idea of such an alliance at any other time, but being poor felt even worse, so they had to swallow down their pride and accept Ian’s offer. In some ways, Diminie is like any other omega of noble origin: sheltered and pampered and ignorant of the life at large; brought up with a single purpose of marrying and producing an heir some day, preferably an alpha. But at the same time, he’s not like many of his peers - he’s bookish, likes to spend time on his own, in nature, dreaming about great adventures and such.

SG (Jungkook, alpha, 20): Ian’s younger brother. He’s Ian’s polar opposite, almost in every single way imaginable. Where Ian had to prove himself fiercely, SG was accepted simply because he is the brother of the Black Hound. His path to success had already been trodden for him, by his brother. And as much as he loves Ian, SG oftentimes feels like he’d always be in his shadow and that saddens him: he too longs for his own adventure, for a clean start. But SG is also no Tattoo, to just up and run to another part of the world, so he does what SG does best: he escapes into his own world, filled with swashbuckling extravaganza and romance. It’s his own small way of defying Ian - while Ian despises pirates, SG adores the idea of them. To him, pirates mean freedom to do as one wills with their life and one day, he comes closer to it than he ever thought possible. Before Ian leaves for Nassau, he offers SG to join him. Ian even has a suitable task for him in mind - to help looking after his fiancée who was adamant about going as well.

(Omegas, amrite?)

***

Relationships:

Moving on to the saucy bits.

Technically any couple can happen here, although some couples are more obvious than others, like Tattoo/BG, for instance, while for Tattoo/Di, I’d have to come up with a separate plotline to bring them together. Which I can, if you want me to, but for now I’ll focus on the more obvious ones.

***

Ian/BG/Tattoo is THE big love triangle of the whole shebang. For starters, Tat’s feelings towards BG are not easy to pin down, whether it’s love or lust or something in-between, even Tat doesn’t know for sure, and he’s no soul-searching type either, so there is that. Tat’s primary rule in life is ‘if it ain’t broken, don’t fix it’, which he applies to anything, even his relationship with people. Plus, when it came to BG, he had no real competition, yes they fuck around with people, but he’s a pirate and BG is a whore, that comes with the job, yes. Then, Ian comes into the picture. Ian with his anti-pirate agenda and immediate interest in BG who is at the epicenter of everything that happens on the island. And that lights fire under Tat’s ass, because deep down he’s afraid that BG will choose Ian over him, because why wouldn’t he. Tat had little to offer in comparison. Even if Ian would probably never marry BG because of BG’s reputation, he could still offer to take him as his mistress, and even that would mean a lot. With Ian as his lover, BG could finally go back home and re-enter the high society and have the life that was stolen from him. (Let it be known that Tat is clueless about Ian's betrothal situation. It's not like he could just look it up on the Internet, besides even if he did know, he'd just assume that Ian is like most alphas in power who had an official mate to supply heirs and a bunch of lovers on the side for fun and giggles).

Ian/Di/SG is the small love triangle of the story. Di is, of course, striving to be devoted to his future husband, that's how he was brought up in the first place. And he knows that Ian is a good man, a worthy man to be the father of his pups, but Di would be lying if he said that being betrothed to Ian is at all how he pictured it in his head. Ian treats him kindly and with respect but he's distant and oftentimes absent due to his service to the crown. And Di would loathe to see their marriage be the same way, so he follows Ian to Nassau in hopes to get closer to his fiance, but only to end up spending his days with his brother instead. At first, Di was dismayed, but it turned out that SG was not half bad a company - they had a lot in common, close in age and Di just felt less pressured to behave in a certain way around SG. And While Di doesn’t know when the tingles in his chest transformed into genuine affection towards the younger alpha, he knows from the way SG looks at him that the feeling is mutual and that can be dangerous.

Chris/Tat/BG is the merry threesome of the story. The three of them bang often and with much gusto, what else is there to say.

Chris and Tat are the best buddies in pretty much everything: in swashbuckling, drinking and fuckery. With his past, Chris has a deep-seated anger toward alphas which makes his skin crawl even at the thought of having one touch him again (Tat is the exception to the rule and even when they fuck, Tat gives him the control to make Chris comfortable). Chris also likes to seek out other omegas to fuck, because omegas are mostly submissive in bed and that works for Chris. The pairing I have in mind for him is with SG, actually. SG has the capability to help Chris work through his issues and regain a part of himself that was desecrated in his marriage - his gentler, more sensitive, kinder self. He’d still be the badass though, but with SG, he could be sweeter, more loving and open with his feelings without the fear of being hurt again.

***

There are a lot of ways this hc could go and there are plenty of loose ends to address here but that's about it for now. I'm very much amenable to writing out small stories based on this au, so if you have scenarios or couples you want me to explore, drop me a message or something. I can't write for all of them, ofc, but I promise to do at least a few of them.

Extras:

- I thought of making Diminie the Queen, but since everything happens at Nassau, there is no plausible way he’d actually be allowed to go to some PirateBayTM, so no Queen Diminie (for now?).

#personas au #multicouples #pirates au #yo ho ho

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pixeldreqms · 4 years

Photo

september 2018

there's an estimated forty days left of filming and already, ian's dreading the end. he's been trying harder to enjoy the little moments, and not just be miserable because he knows they won't last forever. it's hard, but he's trying. he's almost never as happy as he is when he's with these people, his fellow losers, and he doesn't want to waste the time he has left with them.

forty days.

probably closer to thirty nine now since it's past midnight. one more day down. but that's something he's not letting himself linger on. instead, his eyes settle on kennedy who is getting his ass kicked in a video game but is still laughing so loud that the sound is filling the entire basement of the rented house. he focuses on that sound and can't help but smile. he focuses on it and he swears every sad thought in his head floats away, just like that.

he accepted earlier in the summer that his feelings for kenny weren't as platonic as he had originally thought. but in his defense, he was only twelve when they first met. he had a lot of figuring out to do.

he's figured it out now.

he loves all his friends, strongly and deeply, and he's a little co-dependent with more than a couple of them. if he goes a day without talking to evan, he genuinely misses him. he goes out of his way to visit the burgess' at every given chance. each member of the cast has expressed annoyance with the way he spams the group chat while they're all asleep. he's entirely convinced he needs june to survive. and he feels all that with kenny, too, so it took him some time to realize just how much more he felt. and how he felt things for him that went well beyond the things he felt for everyone else he loved.

he doesn't get an overwhelming urge to lean in and kiss any of his other friends when they get too close, for starters. that was a big tip off for ian.

kenny jokingly winked at him once and he felt like someone had lit him on fire.

he constantly found himself shoving others aside just to stand by him in group photos or to sit by him on a couch during a movie.

his own behavior should have been a giveaway right away, but he's not exactly very experienced in that area. not in just dating, but even with liking people. he's only really had one real crush before, and he'd been twelve. and he'd never liked one of his guy friends before either - but he'd accepted that fact easily. given how many male tv characters he'd been infatuated with over the years, and his long-standing secret harry styles obsession that started back when he was ten years old, he'd always suspected he wasn't totally straight. he still hasn't slapped a label on himself yet, but he doesn't think he needs to know for sure what he is to know that he definitely has feelings for kenny.

feelings that are so intense that sometimes he can't even think about anything else. feelings that are so all-consuming that all he wants to talk about 24/7 is kenny and he has to force himself, multiple times a day, to shut up about him or else he'll give himself away or let too much slip. and he knows better than to say anything, to kenny, or to anyone.

but god he wants to.

he's kept this feeling bottled up for months now, though it feels like so much longer, and sometimes he feel like he's gonna burst from how bad he wants to talk about it. his journal only has so many pages he can wax poetic about kenny onto, and he's sure even the inanimate object is sick of hearing about his crush. he needs a pair of real ears. and maybe someone to tell him he's not stupid or crazy for falling for his best friend. because boy oh boy does he feel like he is sometimes.

evan's loud hooping and hollering covers up the sound of kenny's laughter, and ian rolls his eyes but can't help but grin in amusement. his victory had been predicted since mid-game, but evan was still celebrating like he'd done something impressive.

in an attempt to show kenny support, ian raises his arm and gives evan and his win a thumbs down. "booooooo."

he gets two middle fingers raised at him for his efforts. he thinks that's all he's getting in return for voicing his disapproval, until evan drops the controller and comes flying past the gaming area, past the couch, and leaping onto ian where he's sprawled across a huge bean bag chair.

"hey, i wanted to play the winner!" jeremy shouts from the couch in front of the tv, where the other four teenagers had been sat, partially watching the game, partially on their phones, mostly having their own conversations.

ian easily could have squeezed in with them, but he couldn't resist a good bean bag. plus, he was closer to the little mini bar area that this place had. the bar itself wasn't stocked with alcohol, not that ian cares or jeremy's mom would have let them drink anyway, but she kept the shelves and mini fridge stocked. ian likes being close to the snacks.

"well i'm over here now!" evan yells back. the loud volume right in ian's ear makes him wince. "play the loser. kenny, that's you. you're the loser."

ian shoves evan off of him and onto the floor. "dick."

"no," evan says, rejecting his removal from the chair. "move your ass."

"no." but he does it anyway. he can't move much or else he'd be on the floor, because yes it's a big seat, but they're both months away from being sixteen and are not the same small twelve year olds they'd been when they first met. they've hit massive growth spurts since then. sharing small spaces isn't as easy as it once was, but it doesn't stop them from trying. evan ends up with one of his legs completely over ian's and their shoulders pressed together. ian lets it happen, but he's still mildly annoyed about it. "wow, this is so comfortable. i'm so glad you came all the way over here to dig your elbow into my stomach. feels great."

"are you saying you don't want to sit with me, you a**hole?" evan asks.

evan's elbow digs deeper into his side and ian's pretty sure it's on purpose. he grimaces and shifts as much as he can but still doesn't move out of the seat.

"that's literally exactly what i'm saying, yeah. you stink."

the bickering continues, because it never really ends with them. there's an almost constant flow of jokes and jabs between them. but for as much as they give each other sh*t, him and evan have definitely had their fair share of genuine moments between them. anytime ian has an anxiety attack in a group setting, evan's one of a few who knows how to calm him. ian's called him crying about his family or about wanting to go home more than once. there was also the time on set during their first movie together where after an intense, emotional scene, they'd both cried and hugged each other until they got it out of their system. sometimes his relationship with evan reminds him of his relationship with his sister, and the way they can pick and pick at each other, but at the end of the day, they'd die for one another.

it's just really fun to insult each other, so they do it often.

eventually, after evan shouts at ian to eat an ass, they're informed they're being too loud.

anna, the only girl in a group of boys, shushes them with so much aggression that it terrifies ian a little. she puts up with so much nonsense every time she hangs out with them, he's just waiting for the day she finally snaps. he knows he doesn't want it to be his fault, so he does as he's told and shushes.

"they're all haters," evan mutters.

ian nods. "they wanna be us so bad."

and just like that, they're on the same team again.

ian feels a vibration against his leg and realizes his phone's fallen under his thigh. as he digs it out, he sees evan's own attention has momentarily returned to the game on the tv just as the loading screen transitions back into gameplay, so he feels less bad about checking it. reading kenny's name on his screen, he visibly lights up, grinning at the text.

'if he's being a dick, come escape and play me next,' kenny has written.

ian quickly types back. 'he's not, but i might anyway. wanna be next to kick your ass.'

he glances across the room, but he can't see kenny at all where he's sitting on the floor in front of the couch, so he has no idea if he's grinning as big as ian is just from seeing a new text from him. he can't imagine he is, but it's still a nice thought. as soon as the round on the tv ends and the loading screen is back up, kenny starts typing.

'I THINK I'M WINNING THIS TIME.'

ian's smile widens, his cheeks sore from it, but he doesn't get a chance to start replying before -

"is it a meme?" evan asks, neck craning to look. ian clicks back to his homescreen quickly.

"is what a meme?"

evan slumps back a little once ian drops his phone to his lap. "whatever you were staring at like that."

"no, or - yeah." he answers, then changes his answer when he realizes he can't tell him what he was actually grinning at.

he wasn't as subtle as he had hoped.

"you lookin' at something nasty?" evan asks. "you fvcking freak?"

ian blinks, then deadpans, "yes. i'm looking at something nasty while surrounded by my friends. with you practically in my lap. you caught me."

"thought so. looking like a blushing school girl over here." that one's a little too close to home considering he feels like a smitten school girl every time he sees or talks to kenny, so ian shoves evan for it. he almost rolls over the edge of the seat but gets a palm on the ground to steady himself. "come on. seriously. what was it? what's so secret?"

"fvck, you're nosy."

"invested in your life," evan corrects him.

"nosy," ian insists.

evan gives him a look, a raised brow and a silent dude, come on, tell me, and ian takes a breath.

he reminds himself there's a reason he's kept this secret so under wraps. as much as he wants to scream from the rooftop how much he likes kenny, the risk of him finding out isn't worth it. he'd ruin not only their friendship, but probably the entire group. they'd never be able to all be together. not with kenny inevitably being weirded out by ian's crush, and ian being too mortified to be around him anymore. the rest of filming would be a nightmare. getting through press and the promotion would be torture. he'd lose his favorite person.

nothing good could possibly come from people knowing.

then, he reminds himself this is evan. they may thrive off of giving each other sh*t, but he can trust him. he's never let him down before. not when it mattered. if there's anyone he can tell and trust they won't screw him over by letting it slip, he feels like it's evan.

if for no other reason than he'd suffer, too. not just because ian would never forgive him, but he'd hate it if the group dynamic was thrown out of wack, too.

evan feels like a safe place to finally be honest.

so he exhales, and speaks.

"it was a - i was looking at something from - it's a someone."

a bit of a rocky start, but he got where he was trying to go after a few attempts.

"you have a someone?" evan asks, seeming mildly offended that this isn't information he was already privy to. "someone i don't know about?"

"i don't really have someone," ian tells him. "i just... want to. i want to be with them."

"who is she?"

"it's..." ian's voice is barely a whisper at this point. "it's not a girl..."

the silence that follows is the longest, most anxiety inducing silence ian has ever experienced. it can't be more than twenty seconds, probably not even that long, before evan speaks again but it feels like a lifetime. he doesn't know why he's so nervous about the reaction to this. he knows evan well enough to know he won't care, but people can be surprising in the worst ways sometimes. and he's never done this before. he's pretty sure his sister has an inkling, but he's never come out and admitted it to her. this is the first time he's having the actual conversation and god it's fvcking terrifying. he kind of wants to cry suddenly but he's really holding himself together.

even while fearing and preparing himself for the worst, he mostly expects evan to react with some generic but kind sentiment. a that's okay with me, dude or an i love and accept you, pal.

that's not what he gets.

after a moment, evan's brow furrows, his head tilts just slightly, and he asks, as sincere as can be, "man, is it me?"

it's just what ian needs to hear to ease his tension. he throws his head back and lets out a cackle. the ache in his stomach is no longer due to nerves, but from how hard he's laughing. "absolutely fvcking -" he has to stop, pausing as he got through another fit of laughter. "oh, absolutely fvcking not."

a tear rolls down his cheek and he flicks it away as he finally starts to calm down. then he gets a good look at how unamused evan looks and it sets him off again.

"okay, it's not me, i got it!" evan says in a hushed whisper, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of ian's own laughter. "who is it then?"

the nerves are back, suddenly. and again, he doesn't even know why. he wants this. he wants to be able to talk to someone about his feelings. he wants evan to know. but his palms are still sweating.

"you can't tell him," ian says softly. "i'll literally strangle you. you have to swear."

"i swear," he assures him. "so it's someone i know?"

he's pretty sure evan knows everyone ian knows. even his few remaining guy friends from back home, evan's met. but he doesn't remind him of that now, just nods and confirms. "yeah. it's someone you know."

"who? i'm not gonna tell, ian."

nervously, he glances towards the couch, just to make sure the game was still being played and their entire group of friends hadn't turned around to stare and listen to his confession. all he sees are the backs of heads, and he can hear everyone's laughter mixed with anna's muffled trash talk as she has a go at the game. no one's paying attention to him except for evan.

for some reason, he's having a hard time looking at him. the hardest part is already over, he tells himself, just spit his name out. but he's also telling himself that it's not too late and he can keep this secret to himself. evan would be annoyed about the cliffhanger, but ian could deal with that easier than he could deal with other possible outcomes of telling him.

no. he's doing this.

suck it the fvck up.

with his eyes on the back of the couch, in the smallest voice possible, he admits, "kenny."

he doesn't know what evan's initial reaction is, because it takes a few seconds for him to finally meet his eyes again, but when he does look at him again, his face isn't easy to read. he doesn't look shocked, exactly - and really, given that ian is arguably closest to kenny and evan out of everyone, it probably wasn't the most surprising name he could have said. if anything, he looks... confused?

"you're not gonna tell him, are you?" ian asks, misreading the look as inner turmoil about not wanting to keep a secret from their other best friend.

that's not at all what it is.

"no, i said i'm not," evan huffs. "but, why the fvck is it not me?"

"i'm - i'm sorry?" ian says, because what else does he say to that? "are you offended that i don't have a crush on you?"

"am i not cute?"

"evan, this isn't how people are supposed to react to sh*t like this -"

"i just can't believe out of everyone - kenny." he whispers it, at least. "and not me? really?"

"i'd love it if you weren't so fvcking weird about this."

"i'm not being weird! it being me just would have made sense, is all i'm saying."

ian squints. "and it being kenny doesn't make sense?"

evan sighs, falling back into the chair a little. "yeah, i guess it does. it does."

"just to make sure - " ian says, putting a hand up. "you don't - i mean, you're not upset because you like - "

"ew, don't even say it. i don't like you."

it's ian's turn to sigh and lean back into the seat. "okay, cool. you're just... fvcking weird. that's good to know."

there's a moment of silence and ian just breathes. he did it. he did it and nothing's changed, nothing world shattering happened. he feels like a weight's been lifted, just by telling one person. it feels really good. even if it didn't go how he'd have imagined it to. still good.

"knew it couldn't have been a meme you were looking at," evan says a minute later. "the memes you send are never that funny."

ian scoffs. "fvck you. i send the funniest memes."

"willow sends the funniest memes."

"you're gonna go to hell for saying sh*t like that. lying is a fcking sin."

"is it?"

ian pauses.

"... i'm not sure. i think so. did neither of us go to church growing up? that kind of explains a lot."

there's an angry cry from the front of the room that draws their attention. anna curses, followed by kenny laughing. once again, ian smiles at the sound.

the laughter, not the cursing.

"did kenny actually win?!" evan shouts over to the rest of the group.

kenny and anna stand up as the other three perk up on the couch to look over at the two in the bean bag.

"i've been winning!" kenny calls back.

jeremy chimes in. "he's on a winning streak!"

"more like a cheating streak," anna mumbles.

"he's beaten everyone except evan," jeremy says.

"ahem!" evan waves a hand, gesturing to ian. "not everyone except evan. let ian at him."

ian tries to suppress his grin. he'd been so worried about the bad outcomes of telling evan, but he hadn't considered all the good reasons. like evan helping him get closer to kenny. even just in little ways, like playing video games. maybe this was a better idea than he thought.

he meets kenny's eyes and when kenny smiles at him, he can't hide his own anymore.

"ian?" kenny asks. "you want the winner?"

evan nudges ian in the side, winking at him as they make eye contact and calling out to kenny, "yeah, he does."

on second thought, he might end up regretting it.

#◦ ` ･ writing : all the glamour and the trauma and the fucking melodrama #◦ ` ･ writing : hold me closer tiny bastard #◦ ` ･ writing #◦ ` ･ mine

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