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killalluchihas · 3 years

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good vibes/bad juju - 08

Summary: While on a mission in overseas, Gojo gets K-O'd by an unknown person. Within a week, every sorcerer in Japan has heard about it. (a JJK OC story)

[Chapter One Here] [Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter]

—/—/—/—

chapter eight: what's your type? Gojo feels a lot of feelings about Yoshi, so he dips. Yoshi meets Todo.

“Why should I be a sorcerer in your jujutsu order when I’m strong enough to do whatever I want?”

Satoru is fraught with indecision, pulled in several directions at once. He wants to strangle this woman. Launch her into the stratosphere. Scream into a void about her. Maybe kiss her a little bit, too, to see if that shuts her up. It’s very confusing, and in the end, all he can do is burst into loud, shocked laughter.

“At first I thought you were just ornery, Yoshi, but you must have balls of steel to say that to my face!”

Yoshi deflates further, disconcerted by his reaction. “Whatever. Are you going to withdraw your request about me?”

“Nope!” Gojo laughs harder so he doesn’t think too much about throwing Yoshi into a volcano or something. “Now, I've got to leave," Before I develop an ulcer, Satoru adds silently. "There's a council member I need to go terrorize!"

She blinks. “...What, like right now?”

“Yeah!” Gojo grins. “He’s head of the Kyoto school, and we have an exchange event to sort out. You could plea your case to him if you'd like, but full disclosure, he's a staunch traditionalist."

“I’ll pass,” Yoshi deadpans. “Nothing I say to one crusty old man will change anything.”

“How do you know he’s old and crusty?”

“Is he not?”

Gojo cackles. “No, you’re right, he’s ancient! Well, I've kept ol' Gakuganji waiting long enough. Would you mind looking after my sweet students? I think Todo’s going to bully them.”

She shoots him a questioning look. “Who’s—?” But before Yoshi can ask, she’s cut off by a rumbling crash from across campus. She instinctively looks back towards the buildings, sensing the burst of cursed energy from Megumi summoning something. “Gojo, what’s—?”

He’s gone.

Yoshi curses loudly, and goes to check on Gojo’s students.

—/—/—/—

Head throbbing in pain, Megumi forces himself to his feet to summon Nue and his toads. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Todo, who’s babbling some more about his lack of taste. Today’s just not his day, is it?

I’m up against a hardcore close-range fighter, he thinks carefully. I need to keep my distance, but can I? I just fought against another first-grade sorcerer, and… Megumi frowns, thinking of the damage he took trying to dodge Yoshi. At least I can’t feel the bruises anymore. Is it the adrenaline?

That doesn’t matter. Todo dashes forward, and Megumi startles when his toads are tossed aside like rag dolls for the second time today. Todo’s thick arms clamp around his torso, lifting— "Flimsy and shallow, both your body and your taste in women!"

Pain thunders down Megumi’s spine as he crashes into the gravel. He leaps out of the way when Todo follows up with a punch, avoiding it by the skin of his teeth. But Todo doesn’t stop there, darting after Megumi with raised fists.

Megumi swears under his breath, desperately keeping his arms up to block. Blood keeps dripping into his eye, and in an instant, Todo seizes his chin and slams him up against a wall.

A wave of cursed energy suddenly floods over Megumi, and he feels Todo stiffen as he senses it too.

“Oi, what’s the big deal?” Todo rumbles, “I’m not finished with you yeeeee—ow, ow, ow!”

The meaty hand over Megumi’s face vanishes, and he collapses onto his knees.

“Stop that,” Yoshi’s voice is flat and annoyed. She’s holding Todo by the hair of his bun, yanking him down to her level.

Todo twists around in the blink of an eye, but Yoshi’s already released his hair and swiftly avoids his fist.

“What’re you doing?” Todo snaps, glaring at the young woman. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?”

Megumi slowly gets to his feet, trying to gather himself. Yoshi takes a few steps to the side, neatly placing herself between Megumi and Todo.

“You’re in my way,” Yoshi replies bluntly, dropping her hands back into the pockets of her jacket. “Megumi already agreed to spar with me today. Who are you?”

“Kyoto, third-year, Todo Aoi,” he declares, repeating the introduction he gave to Megumi. “I’ve never seen you here before. Are you another student?”

Megumi watches as Yoshi’s shoulders slump. “Not a student. I’m Yoshi,” she answers shortly. Then she cocks her head towards Megumi. “I told you that blocking wouldn’t work,” Yoshi says in a mild voice, but her eyes lock with Megumi in a silent question.

“K-Kugisaki,” he hisses to Yoshi. “Sensei, check on Kugisaki, I’ll be fine,” Megumi urges her, not even realizing the title that slips out of his mouth.

She frowns. “Where’s—?”

“Sensei, is it?” Todo interrupts, grinning at Yoshi eagerly.

She ignores him, eyeing Megumi in concern. “What’s wrong with—?”

“You must be a very recent hire,” Todo continues, taking a threatening step forward. Yoshi’s forced to pay attention as he nears. “Welcome. What’s your type, Yoshi-sensei?”

Megumi and Yoshi stare back at Todo with identical looks of loathing.

“My what?” she demands, dumbfounded.

"Seriously?" Megumi grumbles.

“Your type in men,” Todo elaborates, readying himself for a new opponent. “What kind of man is your type?”

She doesn’t answer for a long moment, silently looking him up and down. “Why?” Yoshi asks, sounding troubled. “I’m not interested, please don’t ask me that again.”

Todo freezes, momentarily losing his focused grin. “Huh?”

Megumi slaps a hand over his mouth and snorts. The situation wasn’t even remotely funny, but it couldn’t be helped. He’d almost laughed earlier too, when Yoshi told Gojo he was too old for her, and then Kugisaki blurted out that Yoshi was hot.

“I—I didn’t mean me,” Todo stammers, his stance relaxing further. “You’re not my type. Well, no—” he pauses, shrugging lightly, “You are pretty tall for a woman, and—” Megumi is already shaking his head furiously, and Todo catches himself before he digs an even greater hole for himself. “But a person’s fetishes reflect everything about them! Like Fushiguro, he’s a boring guy with a boring taste. And I hate boring men.”

Yoshi doesn’t look the slightest bit amused. “So… you’re attacking Megumi because you don’t like his taste?” she inquires, skeptical.

Sensing her judgement, Todo raises his fists again. “The exchange event is near, and I don’t want to spend my final year fighting boring men like him!” Todo announces. “But you, Yoshi-sensei, I felt your spirit. Tell me your type. You look like the sort of woman that knows what she wants!”

“He’s just trying to pick a fight,” Megumi explains quickly to Yoshi. “There’s another Kyoto student here, Zenin-senpai’s sister. I left Kugisaki alone with her.”

“Is she in danger?”

“I don’t know,” Megumi confesses, frustrated.

“Hurry up and answer me, Yoshi-sensei!” Todo cries. “What’s your type?”

“Tch,” Yoshi glares at Todo. “My type is a guy that knows when to shut up.” She doesn’t want to use her bracelet again. Despite how tall and muscular he looks, the truth is that Todo is underage, shirtless, and not nearly as dangerous as that Zenin guy.

“You can do better than that,” Todo encourages her, delighted. He’s clearly not taking her seriously, and Yoshi is not going to fight a sorcerer for no good reason.

“Leave her out of this, Todo,” Megumi speaks up, wiping the blood from his brow. “She’s an instructor, you won’t get a proper fight from her.”

“You won’t get a fight at all,” Yoshi amends his statement, eyes glued to Todo. “Listen, kid. If you attack me or Megumi again, I will send you back home,” she explains. “That’s a promise.”

“Feisty!” Todo exclaims. “I like it! Come, Yoshi-sensei, show me what you’re made of!”

Yoshi gives Megumi a hard push aside, and before he can blink, Todo’s fist is cracking the stone wall behind them with impossible force.

“Yoshi!” Megumi yells, seeing Todo go after her. She’s fast, but she didn’t have anything like Todo’s insane physical power—Crrrack!

Megumi blinks. Todo grunts wetly, staggering a step to the side. Wooden splinters go flying. Yoshi drew her baseball bat, but it shattered against Todo’s flank.

“Good swing! More, show me more!” Todo laughs, brushing the dirt from his pants. He lunges for Yoshi again, and she leans into the move, seizing Todo’s outstretched arm and—

Suddenly, there’s a burst of white-hot energy, making Megumi flinch in surprise. When he looks back at Yoshi, she’s alone.

A beat of silence passes.

“...Yoshi-sensei?” Megumi speaks up. “Where’s Todo?”

Yoshi hums, not looking at Megumi. “I think he’s on the second floor…”

“The… second floor?” he asks, puzzled.

“The second floor of Kyoto Station,” she says warily, shooting Megumi a guilty look. “But I’ve never actually been to Kyoto, so that’s an estimate.”

He stares at her, and then the cracked wall that Todo smashed. Megumi can feel the bruises forming along his back, and his teeth are aching from clenching his jaw while Todo put his fist in his face. Yoshi looks down, and begins to pick up the ruined pieces of her baseball bat to toss in the nearest trash bin.

It was over so quickly.

“You went easy on me,” Megumi says at last, unsure if he’s in awe of her speed or frustrated at her nonchalance. “Your technique can teleport people, so… you weren’t even using a technique to hit me, earlier.”

The young woman trudges over to him, kicking at the gravel idly. “You look terrible. How are we supposed to go for another spar when you can barely stand?” Yoshi rationalizes, running her eyes over him.

“Those baseballs,” Megumi continues doggedly, now that his head is clearing up. “They hurt like hell when you struck me, but—” he presses a hand to his ribcage, where he knows the last ball hit him. “There’s no injury now. It’s like it never happened.”

She peers at him with cool black eyes, unimpressed. “You wanted me to crack your ribs?”

“I’m not made of glass,” Megumi grits his teeth. “And you didn’t need to step in with Todo, either. He was targeting me for a reason.”

Yoshi watches him quietly, considering his words. “Alright. Then I’m sorry for interrupting,” she shrugs. “But the effect was temporary because we were sparring, not fighting. And for the record, Megumi,” Yoshi adds seriously, “I used my technique against you, not Todo.”

Megumi exhales a breath, not quite mollified. “Then how did you do that to Todo?”

“I promised to send him back home,” Yoshi scratches her cheek, unconcerned. “I had to follow through.”

—/—/—/—

[Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter] Author's note: i'm not sure this should be a Gojo x OC fic because the only kind of romance i know how to write is an agonizing slow-burn. let me know if you want to read some simmering tension that doesn't get resolved for 30+ chapters.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk spoilers #jjk manga spoilers #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #gojo satoru #jjk fanfic #jjk fanfiction #jjk gojo #fushiguro megumi #todo aoi #good vibes/bad juju #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk oc #jujutsu kaisen oc

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justasparkwritings · 3 years

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Peace: Coming of Age

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader

Genre: Angst / Slice of Life

Rating: PG15

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Jungkook takes his first steps in creating a life for himself.

Listening: peace by Taylor Swift

Peace Master List

Jungkook paced the room, the grey walls agitating him as he searched for answers. He’d filmed the video five times. Three with a hoodie on, two without. He kept refilming to perfect his vocals, or at least that’s what he told himself. Perfectionism was easier to grapple with than baring his soul to millions. Was he ready to show the world what he’d done?

Jungkook had spent the last third of his life in the spotlight. The articles, photos, videos, all captured him growing up. He went from a fresh-faced tween barely through puberty to a full-fledged man. He had grown in front of their eyes, finished high school, and debuted with a band that had captured the world’s attention. He had been taken under the wings of Jin and his five other hyungs. They had watched him struggle, both academically and professionally. They had guided him through the drastic changes in his life, from leaving his family to relentless dance practices and endless vocal lessons. They guided him when he was falling apart, and through their love he had grown into the man he could happily say he is. He’d taken little parts of their personalities and combined them into his own. It was hard to tell when JK ended and the six hyungs began.

Jungkook hadn’t told the rest of BTS of his plans, of what he wanted to do in order to feel that he had completed his metamorphosis. He was cagey, dodging glances and prying questions. He was private, but there wasn’t anything he couldn’t tell them. Except this. It wasn’t until they had snuck up on him one day and caught him reading an article about the significance of tattoos in western culture that they grew concerned that he would taint his flawless skin.

Hoseok sat him down first, tone damning, asking him what he intended to do, and why would he choose to ruin his body? Through the years Jungkook had become accustomed to Ho-Seok’s aversion to anything that would harm or change his physical form. Dying his hair was the closest thing he would do, and even that felt like he was desecrating a sacred temple. He didn’t pierce his ears, he certainly would not get tattoos, and though he had an unusually sunny disposition, body modification of any kind made Ho-Seok’s skin crawl. He respected his members decisions to pierce their ears, two, three, five times, but him? No thank you. He had thought that tattoos were always going to be off limits, even when years prior Jungkook had expressed his desire, on camera, to stain his skin. No member had committed to something so permanent. Piercings close, hair can be dyed back, but this?

Hoseok couldn’t tell if he was mad at JK for recklessly ruining himself, or worried that his decision would endanger the rest of them.

So, he pled his case, and a day or so later, Namjoon tried to talk any sense into JK. He knew it was no use, but as leader he was mandated to speak to him.

“Why do you want to do this?” Namjoon asked. They were seated outside, beers in both their hands.

“Do you feel like yourself, 100% of the time?” Jungkook countered, glancing at the fading sun.

“90% of the time, yes, I do.” Namjoon responded.

“And you feel comfortable in who you are?”

“Why are you interrogating me?” Namjoon stared at his golden maknae. He had raised this boy, crafted and melded him into the man sitting in front of him. Had it been too much?

“You write most of our lyrics, you express your emotions.”

“Yes, and I understand how you’re feeling,”

“Do you? I am me trying to navigate this life that I somehow signed up for when I was a child. I have had to conform every day of my life. I have struggled to find my identity, to showcase who I am, without ever having the time to grow or discover myself. Now I’m a man, who doesn’t know any life outside of constant cameras and the six of you guarding me. What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours, but what if there’s nothing of me? What if they’ve taken it all?”

“You signed up for this Jungkook,” Namjoon felt defensive. His moves, silent and unseen, had pushed Jungkook to this position. His invisible strings had carved him from a child to an adult, his guidance had constructed the golden boy. Namjoon had nurtured Jungkook to be strong in his convictions and fierce at heart. He encouraged his hobbies, to obsession at times, and pared space for him to study and learn, encouraging him to speak English. Didn’t Jungkook know himself better than any members did?

“The devils in the details, Namjoon,” He countered.

“So, what, to feel like yourself you need to permanently decorate your skin?” Namjoon felt the anger rising. Big Hit would surely blame him for this.

“It’s a part of me, a part of me that I am trying to hold onto. I don’t want to hide part of myself because I’m being told I’m supposed to. I want to be me, I want to make choices for myself,” Jungkook’s passion was evident in the grip he had placed on his glass.

“And what if that part of you changes?” Namjoon wanted to know.

“Are you still the same person you were when we started?” Jungkook asked.

“No, I’ve grown, and I’ve learned a lot,” Namjoon sat back and thought about the challenges he’d overcome in the time BTS had been together.

“Then give me the space to do the same, hyung, please,” Jungkook pleaded.

Namjoon nodded, recognizing that molding Jungkook into the perfect band member had done more damage than he realized, the cracks were beginning to form. When Jungkook had joined, RM and Seokjin had been placed as his guardians. They were to protect him, keep him focused, help him grow. He was a child, a baby, compared to the older two. His insecurity and shyness had tried to swallow him, and would’ve if not for the doting care the members had given him. Namjoon had, in a word, overstepped. His grip on Jungkook’s life was impenetrable to the point that sometimes it was hard to know where Namjoon ended and Jungkook began. He wasn’t raising Jungkook, he was manipulating him. The devil had always been in the details, at the hands of Big Hit, that devil was Namjoon.

“Jin’s supposed to try and knock some sense into you…” Namjoon said, standing.

“What’s he going to say that you and Hosoek-hyung haven’t?” Jungkook asked.

“I don’t know, but listen to him,” Namjoon reminded the maknae to respect his elder, something he had thrown away when speaking with Joon.

Namjoon left, leaving JK to sit in his thoughts. He didn’t know when Jin was planning on showing up, and he wasn’t sure he could handle another confrontation and berating. Jungkook was lost in his thoughts, his glass slowly emptying when Jin strode in, keys in hand.

“Let’s go eat,” He said. Jungkook nodded, following him.

As they sat at their usual table, drinks on their way, Jin wasted no time diving in.

“They’ve all been hard on you?” Seokjin asked.

“Yes,” Jungkook responded.

“Well, what do you want me to say?” Jin questioned.

“That you support me,” Jungkook’s gaze never strayed from the empty spot in front of his glass.

“What does management say?” Jin asked, ignoring Jungkook’s suggestion.

“That they can’t technically stop me, but I’ll always be covered. No t-shirts on tour, music videos, anything. If everyone’s in a tank top, I have to be in a tank top with a jacket or long sleeves.”

“Even in summer?” Jin questioned.

“Even then,” Jungkook answered.

“And you’re okay with that?” Jin wondered.

“Yes,”

“Alright, have you thought about ARMY?”

“I can’t imagine they’d be mad at me,” Jungkook said, glancing at Jin. Jin was calm. Jin was always calm, particularly when it came to heady conversations about the direction Jungkook was taking.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Jin left it at that. He quickly moved to ask Jungkook what he wanted to order, their usual banter resuming.

Jungkook sat in the tattoo artists main chair, arm exposed, hand at the ready. The artist asked if he was without a doubt positive he wanted ink decorating his dominate appendage, and he nodded, telling them that each item stood for something. As the artist began, he recounted why.

“The inverted V is for Taehyung, that’s his nickname. He’s funny, and charismatic. The most indecisive person. He is one of the best dancers, and just makes me laugh all the time. He comforts me when I’m upset and is always making sure that I’m okay. RM is for Namjoon, he’s the eternal leader. He’s wise and thinks before he acts. But he’s clumsy. He always pushes me to think deeper, to find the emotion that a song needs, or to remind me to slow down when I’m pushing myself too hard. RM’s our guiding light. M is also for Yoongi, who understands the parts of me that I sometimes think no one does, but he also doesn’t understand the fundamental parts of me… The Y completes ARMY, I am nothing without them.”

The phrase had become common place, BTS is nothing without ARMY. They eat, sleep and breathe ARMY. Who are they if ARMY doesn’t stand beside them, encouraging them on?

ARMY was the reason for his success, but they were also the thorn on his rose. Army watched every move he made, every note he hit, every smile cracked. They’d glommed onto him immediately. Isn’t Jungkook so cute? Did you see how Jungkook dances to Boy in Luv? Have you seen his smile? They cheered when he succeeded and picked him up when he fell. As much as the members had raised JK, he recognized that ARMY was the reason he had to be raised by his hyungs in the first place.

Being raised by people other than your parents is an odd experience. Leaving home and forging a new path without so much as a safety net below would be scary to anyone, but particularly for a child who hadn’t experienced much outside of his home. Jungkook had talent, anyone could see it. He had potential, because he had potential, Big Hit had taken a chance on him. They had molded him and groomed him into a superstar. So much so that by age 23, a song dedicated to him negotiating his stardom with quality of life would become a sexual anthem. Big Hit’s ownership of his existence had sent him into many a tailspin. He compensated the only way he could: working himself to extreme exhaustion and spending nights drunk in the dorms. The other members addressed it delicately, but when his back was turned, they spent countless hours discussing the “problem with Jungkook”.

Perfectionism is often a sign of OCD, a way to control what feels uncontrollable, a way to manage anxiety and stress through precise and repetitive habits. If practice was four hours, Jungkook danced eight. If it took Jimin ten takes to nail an eight count of vocals, Jungkook took twice that. He practiced diligently, sweating through layers and layers, never satisfied until his body gave out. He worked out seven days a week, often hours long sessions not including time with trainers. He was obsessed with his physic and how he could make it stronger. BTS often worried and tried delicately to address their concerns. Jungkook wouldn’t listen, until he blew his heel out an needed stitches. What was meant to be a wake up call ended up giving him more focus and increasing his desire to be perfect.

“Perfect for who?” Suga had asked during an intense discussion of Jungkook’s workaholic tendencies. Jungkook stared at him, Suga, who hates working out, hates other people, and would be content to sleep for days on end, was asking him a stupid question. He turned to Ho-Seok, who nodded.

“Perfect for ARMY, perfect for him,” Ho-Seok had responded.

Hoseok and Jimin both nodded. The three of them formed the dance line, the strongest dancers with Taehyung closing in at #4. Together they banked hundreds of practice hours, innumerable tapings and work ups by the medical team, and were responsible for BTS’ dance routines coming together. They bore the brunt of the work, and their bodies, though young, managed the wear and tear. Ho-Seok worked hard, but Jungkook worked harder.

Namjoon listened to every conversation about Jungkook with ears peeled, writing down any information he needed. If there was a problem with Jungkook, it would soon fall to Namjoon to correct, though his perfectionism had been a drug Namjoon had heavily pushed.

“What’s the J for?” The tattoo artist asked, pulling Jungkook out of his thoughts.

“That’s for Jin, Jimin and J-Hope,” He responded, looking down at the work being done on his body.

“They’re your elders?”

“Yes, Namjoon and Seokjin raised me. They’re all my brothers, but Namjoon and Jin helped me study, they encouraged me, bought me food and made sure I was spending enough time on studies and training. Jin drove me everywhere before I could drive myself, and he spent years teaching me how to be a good person, and a good man. Jimin’s a terror, and Ho-Seok is the only one who understands my drive.”

“The plus signs tie you together?”

“Yes,”

“The heart? And the symbol?”

“ARMY will know.”

Jungkook had waited a few days before displaying his ink to BTS. They were skeptical and unsure how they liked what he had done to his right arm. They were honored he had chosen his hand to honor them and concerned what it meant for him going forward.

Jungkook wasn’t ready for the world to see, and neither was management. He spent the first few months with band aids on his hand until his ink was healed, then layers and layers of make-up.

As he paced in the gray room, a cover of Never Not waiting to upload, he decided to honor himself, to honor his heart, and post the video where his tattoos were exposed. Management had said he could share them when he was ready, and it would be at that point that they stopped covering them in make-up, except in specific situations where his ink would be a detriment to the group. He took a deep breath, like his ink, this choice was permanent.

Once the dust of his ink settled, through a few poor choices and copious empty liquor bottles, he found himself out in Echo Park. A stranger had commented on his ink, and Jungkook’s mind wound back to the conversation he’d had with the tattoo artist about them. His tattoos meant something to him, and their meaning intensified every day.

This is why, on a chance encounter in a low-light restaurant in Echo Park, Jungkook had been so taken with yours. The delicate ink on the back of your arm, the art creeping up your calf sent a shock through him. Who were you, and what did these symbols mean? He cautiously went up to you at the bar, nodding at the bartender who asked for his ID immediately. He flushed. Should he abandon ship?

You turned and smiled. It was blinding.

“Hi, I noticed your tattoos,” He said, thankful he had spent the past few years working on his English.

“Oh,” You were unsure how to respond.

“They’re really beautiful,” He said, his cheeks flushing again. Having spent his youth in Big Hits control, flirting wasn’t a game he knew how to play.

“Thank you,” You responded, your cheeks turning rosy.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asked, right eyebrow raising. You smiled at the quirk.

“Yes, and you can tell me about yours,” You said, already making sense of the ink in front of you, and the man it belonged to.

“I’m Jungkook,” He said, extending the same hand you had been admiring.

“I’m Y/N,” You said, extending yours to shake.

Jungkook swore the earth began to quake at that very second, your skin meeting his for the first time, your smiles blinding the patrons of the restaurant. Everything melted away as the heat from your bodies glued you together. It was in the moment after, when you had unwillingly returned his hand to him that he realized his coming of age had come and gone, he had transitioned into a man, ink and all.

Next: Wasting Your Honor

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datawyrms · 4 years

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Expectations Fulfilled

Dannymay 2020 Day 18 : Horror (As a warning this is way too long? I don’t know how this happened. The answer is way too much setup.)

The last fight with Valerie had not gone well. Danny had hesitated a beat too long, seemingly frozen in indecision and took a nasty blow to the chest for it. That was their friend for you, get too worried about hurting the person trying to kill you and forget to dodge again. At least he’d dropped out of the sky over a wooded area, giving them a chance to pull him out of the fire yet again.

“Danny, you have to change back before she sees you!” Sam hissed at the glowing boy who was clutching his head. “Do you need us to carry you?” her eyes scanned the branches above, it didn’t look like he’d taken any down by slamming into them, but he could always just land badly.

“I will totally put you in this thermos over letting her drag you off to Vlad.” Tucker warned, listening for the tell tale hum of the ghost hunter’s jet board.

“I-I’m okay.” Danny finally responded, starting to get back to his feet. “Don’t soup me. Hate that,” he shook his head still rubbing at it with one hand. “I’m just a bit dizzy”.

“You’re not fooling anyone with that hero act anymore, you hear me?”

“Hurry up!”

The ghost gave a stiff nod, finally clear headed enough to switch back to human form. He stumbled, but the three of them had enough practice by now to get moving quickly. It wasn’t likely Valarie would connect the three of them with Phantom, but with their luck she’d assume a ghost was what had gotten Danny limping along.

“We really need a better plan for when she catches up to you, talking it out isn’t working.”

“What, I love being blamed for beating myself up.”

Sam scowled at her flippant friend. “I know you’re worried about hurting her, but she can probably take a few hits. Just so she’s a little more cautious about going after you so hard.”

“Probably wouldn’t take a fall from that high up very well though.” the half ghost grimaced as he watched the sky.

“Dude, you barely took that fall. Sam has a point.” Tucker handed over the backpack as his friend steadied, keeping close in case Danny was only acting like he was good to go again.

“I’ll think about it.” Which was basically Dannyanto for ‘no’, but there wasn’t much use in trying to convince him.

That is why it was so strange the next day in school. Tucker spotted Valerie running out of class with a flimsy excuse, but Danny hadn’t even made an attempt to leave. It could have been something that wasn’t ghost related, but spotting the large white and green serpent ghost slammed to the ground from the window confirmed it was indeed a ghost thing.

“Hey. Aren’t you gonna go out there?” he leaned over with a hiss, Lancer too distracted by the potential danger to his students to really be picky about talking in class.

“Huh?” Danny stared at him blankly.

“The ghost? That Val’s fighting?” he clarified, wondering if his friend had simply slept through his ghost sense.

Danny looked out the window, looking more bored than alarmed. “Nah. She has it.”

“Dude, are you okay?”

“You guys were the ones saying we needed a plan. So I’ll just let her deal with it,” he shrugged, slouching back in his chair.

That didn’t really seem like a plan he’d normally come up with. Sure, it was sensible, but that’s why it didn’t make any sense. Danny looked normal enough though, maybe he was just tired of getting yelled at by someone he was helping. “If you say so. It is just an animal ghost,”. He dropped the subject, taking several looks back as their teacher ushered them all off to a ‘safer area’. Valerie probably wouldn’t have any trouble alone, but his friend’s complete lack of interest was a little creepy.

Sam’s opener at lunch meant he wasn’t alone in that thought. “Aren’t you maybe a little too carefree about this?”

“No? If she gets beat up then it’s not my problem anymore,” he focused back on his sandwich, ignoring the twin looks of bafflement he was getting for a few minutes. When they continued he muttered “What? I’ll deal with it if it threatens you guys, you’re my friends”.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Your parents don’t have some weird ghost mood changer or something?”

“I’m fine Sam. I finally agree with you guys and now you’re surprised I’m not acting like a superhero, sheesh.” he rolled his eyes, irritation creasing his brow.

“You gotta admit it was pretty sudden. We know how stubborn you are,” Tucker crossed his arms, unable to shake the feeling that something was off.

“You said it enough that it made sense. She hates me and wants to waste me, so why keep bailing her out? See how she likes the ‘evil ghost’ not helping,”

“You’ll help if she gets in serious trouble though, right?” Tucker hesitated before asking.

“If I feel like it.”

Sam and Tucker shared a look, biting back any further questions. Whatever was up with Danny, they probably wouldn’t get out of the half ghost himself. They’d have to invite themselves over tonight and take a look around for anything new and dangerous.

“See? Totally fine.” Danny prompted them to look around, spotting the ghost hunter entering the lunchroom with a scowl.

“Uh Danny, she’s a little hurt. See her arm?”

He raised an eyebrow. “So? I take worse, you’ve taken worse. Why do you care?”

Sam really wanted to ask him why he didn’t care, but the elbow from Tucker had her reconsider. With the weird apathy, it probably wouldn’t be the best idea to get on his bad side.

Yet they couldn’t find any sort of weapon or tool that might have explained why their friend had flipped from being completely unwilling to aggressively defend himself against Valerie to ignoring ghost fights he had no interest in. Any questions or nudges to help were always met with reluctance, as if he resented the very idea of assisting. Sure, he’d go the second a ghost might threaten his family or friends, but otherwise he seemed to have set the rest of the town in a ‘not my problem’ box.

“Maybe he wants to focus on his studies. You know he can’t work for NASA if he keeps pulling his kind of grades.” Jazz was a little put off by his behaviour, but couldn’t deny that the increased amount of sleep and downtime was reversing her brother’s downward trend in school.

“Isn’t it weird though? It’s not like it was our idea for him to use his ghost powers to help people, he did that on his own,” Sam pointed out, frustrated that Jazz would just ignore all of that.

“You know I can totally hear you guys, right?” Danny called from upstairs, and they could swear the room had gotten colder.

“Yup! Eavesdropping is rude little bro”

“So is gossiping behind my back!”

Jazz gave a shrug, covering up a laugh from his irritated retort. “He’s not acting all that different guys, really.”

“Which I’ve been saying on repeat all week.” Danny groused, hands in his pockets as he slouched into the room. “I’m tired of pretending to be something I’m not. So I stopped. Is it really that big of a deal?”

“You weren’t pretending, you were really helping people,” Sam pressed, earning another eye roll.

“Sure. That’s why everyone hates my guts. Or wants to poke around in them.”

“Well it’s up to you dude. Just let us know if anything feels off?”

“I’m fine! Sheesh!”

Phantom had been strange since their last fight. In some ways it had been nice, not needing to constantly chase the pest down only for him to get away yet again. She was pretty sure she’d caught more than the glowing terror had this week, mostly because the ghost barely showed up. Perhaps it had finally decided the weaker ghosts were beneath it, or didn’t get it enough attention. She didn’t miss the ghost, but she could admit she was running more ragged than usual for it.

“Get out of my way.” the ghost had the audacity to bark an order at her after flinging Ember to the ground, making her completely miss her shot.

“You’re the one in my way Phantom.” she growled back, getting some satisfaction as the ghost’s eyes snapped to her hands and the ectogun she held. “You can’t fool me, I know you’re just an evil ghost”

The green eyed ghost glared at her for that “Am I now?” he paused in midair, eyes flicking between Ember who was getting back up for another go, and the red clad ghost hunter in front of him. “Hey Ember!”

“What! I don’t need any of your awful puns, dipstick”

“How ‘bout a truce? First one to get the hunter grounded wins.” he ducked quickly to dodge the shot Valerie fired.

“‘Bout time you learned what fun is, kid. You’re on!” the ghostly musician regained her place in the air, apparently willing to forgive a punch to the ground if it meant ganging up on a ghost hunter.

“Hey Val? I suggest you run.” With that he fired on her, only managing to dodge the blow by having her board stop floating. She always knew the white haired boy was evil, but she never really expected him to team up with another ghost. Still, she was a better ghost hunter than most. She could take them.

She flew low, counting on the extra obstacles to throw off the ghosts aim. The side benefit of not having far to fall was a notable one as well as the larger soundwaves Ember could launch kept clipping the sides of the board, a little too wide to completely dodge. She rocked wildly but was able to keep her feet, using the time in between volleys to launch a few attacks of her own back. Judging by the grunts she’d hit one or the other a few times, but not directly. She urged the board to go faster, eyes scanning for a good place to turn the tables on the ghosts. It wasn’t a great spot, but the two buildings could provide cover once she got behind one. The board shrieked at the hard turn she demanded of it, but managed to get down the alley without clipping the sides.

“Who’s the rat now, huh?” Ember’s taunt was infuriating, but she forced herself to wait. She had to take at least one of them out. The first shot took the ghost by surprise as she rounded the corner, but the second was a little too far down.

“The thing about corners is you can’t really surprise me if I don’t come that way.”

She jerked in surprise, trying to face the ghost who had somehow gotten behind her-though the building of course how had she been so stupid-? Yet she couldn’t dodge the punch that threw her off the board and on to the ground, skidding to where the guitar wielding ghost was waiting.

“Well, that was fun. Should do it again sometime!” she gave the ghost hunter a kick before taking to the air, eyeing Phantom a little warily. “Didn’t think you had it in ya.”

“Surprise. Touch my friends and I’ll kill you again. Got it?” he started cheerfully enough, but the warning was nearly a snarl.

“Chill out dipstick. Weird little humans off limits, got it!”

Valerie tried to rise as flame-head fled, but was forced back down by Phantom’s boot. She managed not to grunt in pain, but she didn’t have too many options to remove the ghost’s foot from her chest at the moment.

“As for you, Valerie,” he ghost was still clearly furious, but seemed a little lost now that he’d actually knocked her down.

“Danny?”

Valerie’s heart raced. Tucker? He was a bit of a dweeb, but she couldn’t let this ghost scum hurt him. She struggled, trying to unbalance the ghost while it was distracted, rolling free and dragging the ghost down with a grunt.

“What now?” Phantom seemed peevish, ignoring the ghost hunter completely after getting back up. As if she was so little threat he could just ignore her.

“I think you might be going a little far dude.” Tucker really shouldn’t be trying to reason with this monster, but it was giving her time to ready her weapon.

“Hey, she wanted evil!”

Tucker looked incredibly uncomfortable, eyes darting between the ghost and his disguised classmate. “How about no more fighting for today, okay?”

“You can’t be defending this monster! It can’t hide what it is!” she aimed her reclaimed weapon.

The ghost’s more relaxed air died the second she finished speaking, temperature plunging as he whirled to face her. It was strange how he seemed more fixed on her hand than the barrel of the gun, but that didn’t really matter all that much with the ghost’s hands and eyes glowing a furious green.

She stuck to her guns, ready to fire and distract the thing so Tucker could run Yet he didn’t run, instead pulling a Fenton thermos quickly out of his backpack, looking more worried about her than anything else.

“Yeah okay, you need a time out. Sorry.” The ghost didn’t even react to the words, though it blinked a few times once it realized the Fenton’s invention was pulling it away from its intended target. Otherwise it didn’t struggle, leaving Tucker to quickly cap the thermos. “Okaaay. I’m just gonna. Go now. Bye!” he sprinted away before she could demand he hand over the thermos so she could dispose of the ghost inside. Didn’t he see how dangerous it was?

Thinking simply hurt. Tucker and Sam were worried sick, babbling on and on about how he was acting weird, that he could have seriously hurt Valarie. As if hurting her mattered. Maybe it did? Urgh. He just wanted them all to stop talking and let him figure it out.

“Danny, this isn’t normal. We just want to help,”

“Why is any of this surprising? I’m always like this.” he insisted, only earning worried frowns again.

“No, you don’t usually decide to attack people for calling you evil. What’s gotten into you?” Sam was looking him in the eye. She did genuinely seem to be concerned, even though it didn’t make any sense.

“Nothing? I’ve been half ghost for a while,” he crossed his arms.

“This isn’t getting us anywhere. We need to ask Frostbite to check him or something.”

“There’s no way we can get to the Farfrozen if we start now, and we can’t trust him to go on his own right now.” Tucker frowned, punching plans into his PDA.

“I’m right here guys.”

Sam dragged her hand across her face. “Danny, you were going to waste Valerie, we get to question your judgement right now.”

“Of course I was. I’ll show her a monster,” her muttered, eyes flaring green in annoyance.

Tucker paled a little, still looking at the PDA. “Yeah that? That’s what we’re worried about.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you guys.”

“Danny, that’s not the problem here!”

The half ghost sighed, slumping on his bed. They still weren’t making sense, and everything was starting to itch horribly. He rubbed at his shoulder, but it only seemed to make the itching sensation worse. Something was in the way of what needed scratching, but he couldn’t quite reach it. Very annoying.

“Can you stop dropping the temperature? It’s like a meat locker in here.”

“I’m not doing anything.” he stared at the stickers on the ceiling, idly wondering if something had happened to the others to make all of them make zero sense. Or to make them forget that he was a half ghost. Of course it was cold. He kept scratching at his shoulder, nails desperately trying to find whatever it was that was making him feel so uncomfortable. Something tight and restrictive that itched furiously.

“We go Friday. There’s no way we can sneak away that long until then.”

“You’re overreacting guys.” That, and a trip to the ghost zone would be pretty boring.

“No, you’re under reacting. Just trust us, okay?”

Sam and Tucker remained weirdly on edge, watching him like he was some sort of bomb that might go off at any moment. Shouldn’t they be used to all this by now? So what if he found it a little fun that people were too scared to keep eye contact with him for very long? They were only unsettled, and the fear always gave a welcome kick of energy. It distracted from the itching.

He wanted to be a little more scary than just simply unsettling, but Sam and Tucker insisted the school was a hands off zone now. Maybe he should have picked different humans to be so attached too, as these ones were being incredibly boring all of a sudden. Didn’t they want to have a bit of fun? Simply being unsettling with his presence was all well and good, but it wasn’t the same as a proper scared-for their-lives affair. They didn’t even approve when he went after Skulker for daring to set foot in his territory! He’d been ‘too careless’ for dragging the ghost near some of the fleeing humans while they fought. Of course he had! What was the point of fighting if he wasn’t going to get some good back from it? He could do what he wanted with his food.

Really, it just made him want to tear his hair out. They were the ones who had changed, but they kept insisting it was the other way around.

Valerie was incredibly weird though. She kept talking to him as if they were friends. It always made the itching worse, trying to pretend he was glad she was at school and not a smear on the sidewalk. Humans were stupid. It wasn’t like he was hiding what he was. Though it was one of the times that she approached him that he finally solved the itching problem, nails finally tearing through the obnoxious, too tight skin.

She’d backed away with a gasp, as if the green stain on his hands should be some sort of surprise. “What happened to you? Don’t worry, I’ll get help!”

She seemed confused when he laughed at her nonsensical question. Flexing his freed claws was fun, but he really did need to get the rest of this restricting mess off. His right hand clawed at his arm, the ectoplasm that oozed from his self inflicted wounds was both freeing and soothing at once. Stop hiding, stop pretending.

“Nothing happened to me.” He flexed his freed arms, green black skin more like tar than anything else, giggling when the girl recoiled from the new green eyes that bubbled to the surface to watch her squirm.

Maybe she was that oblivious. “Someone will help you Danny, just hold on!” she insisted before sprinting down the hall. He’d chase her, but there were so many people simply watching in mute horror that he couldn’t resist trying to get a few screams out of them. No killing, Tucker and Sam wouldn’t like that, but a few scratches wouldn’t hurt all that much. Dash ought to know how kind he’d been in not retaliating sooner, really. The disgusted sounds they made as he clawed at his face was entertaining, someone fainting as he flung the discarded skin away. Some of his hair remained black, but the white went nicer with his pointed teeth, in his opinion. He let out a snarl, relishing in how they fled from some twisted half human ghost. Tucker and Sam were wrong, he absolutely should have done this sooner. Well, he’d let them know that when they showed up. They usually did. It really was a bit of a shame to just let them all run away though. Oh well.

Maybe he should free his feet, but getting through his shoes might be a bit of a pain. It was easier to drag his claws against the lockers and listen for the sounds of running feet and muffled screams. They were so scared they didn’t even need to see him.

“Danny, do you recognize us?”

Oh, there they were! “Hi. I fixed the itching.” he clawed idly at his neck, feeling more flexible with every scratch. It was much easier to keep an eye on them with the arm eyes, freeing his head to glance around the rest of the hallway.

“We noticed. Uh. I think you left half of yourself on the floor.” Tucker looked ill, pointedly ignoring a red and green splatter on the wall next to him.

“Finally. So much scratching. You have no idea how annoying that was.” They didn’t seem happy for him though. More worried. Why? They knew he’d never hurt them. They were his humans, his favourite ones. No one got to hurt them.

“Can you...change back?” Sam asked, approaching cautiously.

“Change back to what?” his brow furrowed, fixing the blue eyes of his face to double check he was seeing correctly. Was she upset? Weird. This was a good thing.

“Back into yourself. Human, like us? Remember?” Tucker had taken one of his hands, careful of the claws. They were still the same general shape, even if Tucker’s skin was thin and weak and warm.

“I’m not like you though. You were there.” he tilted his head, wondering if they’d forgotten that too somehow.

“You’re still human, Danny,” Sam stepped in as Tucker seemed distracted in wiping the green and black film off of his hands.

“Nope. Something in the middle.” he let out a hum, sure he’d heard something. “Being split like that was wrong. Like playing pretend all the time.” The beast stretched, the cracking of his lower back like gunshots in the abandoned hall. Two more steps. So there was a sneak around!

“This isn’t you, you know that. You don’t want to hurt or scare people.”

“Mmm? That’s what monsters do, isn’t it?” Why did Sam decide to hug him now? He couldn’t get at the rest of his torso like that.

Tucker was very confusing, rubbing at the water from his eyes. “Just let us try to help you fix this, okay? You aren’t a monster.”

“Sure I am. What else could I be?”

“Who told you that? Why would you listen to them over us?” Sam was brave as usual, shaking him a little instead of backing away.

“I told you that too! Are you sure you guys aren’t the ones forgetting stuff?” he frowned at the two of them, ear twitching. More steps. The sneak was close, and he was pretty sure he knew who it was.

“It doesn’t matter who it was. Can you switch to ghost form?” Tucker sounded calm, but his face was still leaking. Sam had joined him, though she was more biting her lip than dripping like a faucet.

“I’m both right now. I just said that!” They really weren’t listening very well. “I’m done hiding what I am, it was uncomfortable.” The confused muttering from the sneak was fun to overhear, but it would probably be more fun if Tucker and Sam were in on it. “They don’t know what I mean by that, you might have to explain it for em.”

“Explain what? To who? No one’s here Danny. It’s just us.”

“Us and the sneakkkkk.” he sprang forward, grabbing on to the corner with his claws, twisting his neck to look down at the sneak who backed away with a yelp. “Hiiii Val. You gonna run again?” he snickered when her fear morphed into anger, apparently recognizing him now.

“You sick creep! What did you do to Danny?”

“Valerie! Don’t make him mad!” Sam called out, the two of them sprinting over to join the sneaky ghost hunter.

“No one listens! I’m Danny. I’ve always been Danny. You just didn’t notice! That’s okay, almost nobody did.” Oh she was very funny when she glared at him like that.

“You’re lying. Danny is nothing like you.”

“Danny is everything like me. Right Tuck? She doesn’t listen to ghosts. You sure I can’t just kill her?” he glanced back at his friends, disappointed to see the no already written on their faces.

“No! That would be bad, don’t do that!” Tucker stammered, unsure where to keep his eyes. He’d have an easier time if he had eyes on his arms like he did now. Maybe his friends could be half ghosts too. Hmm.

“Valarie, I know this doesn’t make any sense, just listen and don’t set him off.”

“Sam, this thing has done something awful to your friend and you’re worried about the ghost’s feelings? What’s wrong with you?” the ghost hunter stood her ground even without her fancy gear, glaring up at the perching mutated mess above her.

“All of that up there is Danny, okay? Something’s wrong, and we’ll explain it once he’s better, but you just need to trust us right now.”

“Mmmhmm. A monster just like you said.” he rocked back and forth a little, blue eyes fixed on Valerie’s clenched fist. “You’re lucky my friends won’t let me kill you Val. Even though I’m not hiding anymore.”

Tucker noticed how Danny’s blue eyes seemed fixed on the girl he was tormenting, elbowing Sam to point it out.

“None of you are making any sense. He’s just possessed or something, why are you acting like this is okay?”

“Annoying.” Danny growled, showing far too many fangs. “This is what you wanted! You say I’m not a hero so I stop.”

Tucker and Sam looked ill. “Valarie, what do you have on your hand?”

“Why does my jewelry matter now?” she didn’t look at them, too busy scowling at the monster on the wall. “I didn’t say anything like that to Danny.”

“Yes you did! You are awful at this. Phantom was Danny and vise versa. Keep up!” the hybrid snorted. “Both are me. Both are very, very tired of you and your orders.”

“It’s important! Where did you get it?” Sam had apparently decided she didn’t have time for Valarie to be confused, trying to grab at her hand and cursing when she saw it. “Nevermind, I don’t care, just smash it!”

“You still aren't’ making sense.” She was reaching for a blaster that wasn’t there, looking between all three now as possible threats.

“Then you say I’m evil. So I comply. Now I stop hiding and still you are complaining! Make up your mind! Or let me kill you, that’d be fun.” Plaster cracked beneath the creature’s claws as it leaned forward, uncomfortably close. The out of place blue eyes flicked from the red ring to her face and back again. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted Val? Or should I call you master?”

(oh look a sort of continuation)

#dannymay2020 #Danny Phantom #Tucker Foley #sam manson #valerie gray #my stuff #why did i spend all day on this #i hope it was a decent buildup payoff #horror is a lot about suspense to me #but idono if i really got that part #there's some blood but it's pretty glossed over idono #please scream thoughts at me they make my day lol #body horror #if i should tag more things say so i am Bad At Tumblr :v

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kylermalloy · 4 years

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What is(are) your fave Haylijah moment(s)?

Christina! Oh, girl. When I saw this ask, I had two reactions to it:

Indecisive me: why such a hard question? I am incapable of picking favorites! 😫

Evil me: Aha! You’ve fallen right into my trap. Now I can talk for HOURS about Haylijah and no one can stop me! 😈

Since I can’t pick favorites, here’s a long list, in some sort of order, of my fave Haylijah moments. Strap in, don’t hold your breath, and get ready for a long ramble. 😊

Inherent spoilers for TO ahead!

All their scenes in 4x03

This is as close as we get to Haylijah as a happy couple. They’ve had a five-year timeout, and they might have been a little cautious around each other, especially since Hayley’s world has changed so much since the last time they were together. But for this episode at least, they fit right back together perfectly.

Elijah listens to her worries, her musings about the past five years. And I like his line about her not having a Mikaelson heart. Even though I know this line is there to ultimately break them apart, I still like the sentiment. Hayley is an honorary Mikaelson—she’s part of the family, but she’s also not. She’s set apart from them in a way. This is a continual theme between Hayley and Elijah—he constantly elevates her, venerates her. Hayley’s not perfect, but the sentiment again is sweet. And very Elijah.

Their first meeting in 1x01

This one is just funny to me. Purely physical. When they meet for the first time, Hayley is a few months pregnant, Elijah is tasked with catching her up to speed on the millennium of Mikaelson family drama.

So he has to invade her personal space and give her a rather intimate recap. Basically, I imagine Elijah’s thoughts in this scene to be: I’m gonna be an uncle!must...touch...pretty...girl.

Okay, there’s a lot more to it than that but I am first and foremost a shoddy comedian. Hence the shoddy joke. Moving on.

The sex scene in 2x09

I generally prefer the soft fluffy moments to the sexy moments, but this one is just...

It’s very sexy. x

On a more analytical note, this is like a goodbye for them. Hayley’s about to make a huge personal sacrifice, and whatever she feels about Jackson, she has strong feelings about Elijah, too. This is her confronting and releasing those feelings all in one fell swoop.

They’ve clearly been wanting to do this for a while, but life and death and angst kept getting in the way. This? This might be their only chance. And boy, do they take it.

(I’m not sorry.) x

The hug in 1x09

I love their hugs. This one is very special to me, and I included a gif to show everybody—look at the vulnerability! Look at the way she holds her arms out for him, ducking her head shyly. Hayley’s not shy. Why is she so soft here?

Let’s review—here, Klaus is at his most despotic. He’s taken over Marcel’s vampires, dragged Hayley to the compound, and ordered the wolves in the bayou to be killed. (yes, yes, he has reasons for doing so, but Hayley doesn’t know—or care) Elijah has gone against Klaus to protect the wolves at Hayley’s request—even when he told Hayley just one episode ago he had to choose Klaus over everyone. Hayley desperately needs an ally, and here’s Elijah with his pretentious overcoat and soft little smile. I’d hug him too.

The end scene in 3x11

I want to clarify, I don’t really see this as a romantic scene. But it still blows me away—there’s a depth to it, an understanding between the two of them.

First of all, Phoebe’s acting here is heartbreaking. She’s finally allowing herself to break down about Jackson, who died just for loving her. Because she couldn’t protect him. Because he was close to her—and ended up in the way.

Loving any of us is a death sentence. I think this is the first time Hayley’s truly understood Elijah’s hesitance in season 1. She doesn’t say it outright, but now she’s the one choosing the dead over the living. Now she understands what it’s like to have innocent blood on your hands—even if you didn’t put it there. This is the cost of being a Mikaelson.

Elijah hasn’t come to rekindle their relationship, to undermine her grief, or to make any kind of proposition. He has no expectations; he’s simply there to listen and be there for her.

The pool scene in 1x06

There’s nothing more appealing than one half of the otp caring for the other half when they’re sick. As an added bonus, they’re both wet and he’s holding her. I am a simple woman with simple needs.

Sick!Elijah in 1x08

I’m a sucker for this trope, okay? This time it’s Elijah who’s sick, and Hayley—instead of investigating the wolves literally right outside the door—stays with him.

This is Elijah at his most undignified, and oddly enough I think it’s a draw for Hayley. She’s not the nursemaid type (she spends the entire season telling us what she’s not) but this is a chance to care for him the way he’s cared for her. He means something to her, and this is one of the first times she gets to express that. It’s soft and sweet and I’m weak.

The end scenes in 1x22

Logically, this should’ve been the turning point for these two. While Klaus leaves with a newborn Hope, Hayley and Elijah stay behind to sell their grief. The tiny scene of them going out in public, coming to the vigil to pay their respects? Hurts.

That alone warrants a place on my favorites list. But I’ll always be bitter that the little scene between them (after that?) was cut, where she expresses concern over what she’s become. And he assures her he’ll be there to help her through whatever comes next. And then she feeds on him. O.O

The car scene in 1x08

Okay, so I am painfully slow on the uptake, and this was legitimately the first scene where I picked up on their romantic tension. Granted, this is the first scene where Hayley implies that she actually sees Elijah in that way—the mental block of “she banged his brother” kept me from seeing it before. But it’s there—she’s interested, she’s seen his tragic past, and she wants to hold his hand.

This Pride-and-Prejudice-esque hand hold! Elijah straight up tells her that they shouldn’t pursue a relationship—because he fears for her safety. And then he proceeds to squeeze her fingers with as much graceful repression as a slut like Daniel Gillies can manage. These two will be the death of me, I swear.

Their goodbye in 3x22

This entire episode just bleeds angst. It begins with Hayley and Elijah in bed together, finally having begun their relationship anew. They’re happy, so of course per TO regulations, it cannot last. Elijah is bitten and will either die or be put to sleep in a day. Hayley’s time with him, as always, is painfully short.

He hides his pain from the poison well, brushing off Hayley’s concern, even coming to help hold Kol down when the two of them were bitten just seconds apart. But when she comes to him, hesitating at the door of the bedroom where he’s hidden himself from her, he tells her what he wants for her. And the venom has caused him to think their happiness together was just a dream. My heart.

The forehead kiss in 1x15

This isn’t a big explosive moment in their relationship—pivotal, in a way, but not hugely dramatic or developmental. I have to put a gif of this one, because—

just look at them. This is one of their several near-kisses in s1. It’s graceful, sensual, and almost as erotic as a full-on makeout session. It melts me.

Not to mention, this is kind of an angsty moment between them—Elijah has chosen to let Hayley cure her wolf family, which will, according to Celeste, rip her away from him and his family for good. He knows this, and he doesn’t care. He gives her the cure freely, with a smile. He doesn’t just want her, not unless she wants him back. Like he says just a few episodes later, “what I want...is for that girl to be happy.” That’s his endgame. That’s what he wants out of this. That’s why he steps out of the way for Jackson—Hayley tells him it’ll make her happy. That’s why he steps away in season 4–he thinks she’ll be happier that way. Except they totally reconciled, because that’s what would make ME happy.

And that’s why none of season 5 Haylijah exists for me! Even the cute flashback of them in France. None of it happened.

And those are my favorite Haylijah moments! Thanks for asking this, Christina—I had a lot of fun revisiting the show and these moments! Now I’m curious—what are your favorite moments?

#asks #the originals #whitedahlia13 #haylijah #hayley marshall #elijah mikaelson #i couldn’t put in gifs for all the scenes #darn post limit #(and also i’m lazy)#kylerrambles

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sunmontuewrites · 4 years

Text

Tale Feather (Kurtofsky fanfic)

So I wrote a fic, and then I wrote some more of it, and now it’s complete. I don’t even know what I’m doing with my writing anymore... Apparently 3.3K of Kurtofsky smut is where we’re going this weekend.

Based on this mood board that @team-lionheart7 made for @blueorchids (I don’t know if I should apologise for writing fic or not? Sorry if I stepped on toes - I am not sure if this is a done thing or not...?)

I will post this on AO3 once I have got my lycra and lowboys in order (i.e. corrected the spelling to ‘American’ English and if you catch any blatant non-American turns-of-phrase which are confusing let me know!)

SUMMARY: David Karofsky runs a successful bar in the city, into which one Kurt Hummel stumbles, complete with startlingly high heels.

TALE FEATHER

The music is loud enough that Dave can feel it in his chest as he mixes and pours drinks, feet shuffling to the beat occasionally. It’s not like he doesn’t trust his staff but he loves the buzz of a busy Saturday night, people moving on the dance floor, the energy is electrifying and he never gets bored of it. They’d bought the entire ramshackle building when it was barely compliant ten years ago in a forclosure sale and now it’s this. Offices on the first floor, apartments on the second and third, on the ground floor a café-restaurant, a couple of boutique shops and his bar. The entire building is special to him, but Tale Feather has been his special project for the last five years and he has poured his life and soul into it, the returns have been a thousand fold. It had started as a high end cocktail bar with a dance floor on Saturdays and it had been his baby. Then it had grown and matured, his cocktails somehow catching the eyes of several people, and then… it is the place to be.

Dave owns it. Mostly. He has two investors with a 30% interest each, Wayne and Tam, but they trust him and it’s not like he would screw himself over with bad business decisions. He got his business degree and then didn’t know what the fuck to do with it so had just kept making drinks, his part-time job that had helped put him through college. He’s lucked out on having Wayne as a boss who coached him, acted as a mentor, invested and got him through the first couple of years. He obviously had self-interests but Dave knows his life wouldn’t be anywhere as good as it is without his help and is lucky enough to count him a good friend now.

A bump to his hip from Lee has him looking up and Lee’s jerking his chin to the door and he tenses, wonders if he’s going to need to act as an additional bouncer, because he’s done that before, except no… it’s just a bunch of new people and okay, they’re all young and hot, but Dave is on the other side of thirty and all he’ll really do is enjoy looking. He lets his eyes run over them, appreciates the toned flesh on display and clothes chosen specifically to show their bodies and then notes that they’re all in heels, even the guys. His eyes skitter back, because there was…

“Oh shit…” he says under his breath, and Lee is cackling like he’s just heard the best joke ever and Dave shakes his head.

He recognises him of course, because he still looks the same, his body larger, more muscular, a man’s body rather than a teenagers, older than most of the other people’s he with but… Dave would bet money he’s a dancer. That they’re all dancers. He’s dressed in tight black pants and he can’t tell whether they’re leggings or jeans without getting his hands on them. The top is a simple white dress shirt, meant to be too big and tied at his waist to accentuate the hips. He doesn’t know if Kurt will recognise him but he’s approaching the bar fast and Dave lets his eyes travel up Kurt’s body. Heels. Four inch stilettos and Kurt is moving like he’s wearing regular shoes. Definitely a dancer then and the way his hips snap has him swallowing and wondering if he can maybe beat a hasty retreat to his apartment on the top floor. Instead his second of indecision has him faced with Kurt who isn’t even looking at him, which okay, he can work with that.

“What can I get for you?”

Kurt’s head snaps around at that and there is definitely recognition there. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing.

“David!”

“Kurt. Hi. What can I get you?”

“A bottle of water to start would be great thanks,” Kurt says, and his eyes are travelling over Dave and he’s pretty sure he’s being checked out. Dave quirks an eyebrow as he cracks open a new bottle and slides it toward Kurt. He’d return the not-so-subtle once-over except he already did that when Kurt was approaching the bar and he doesn’t know if it was really Kurt checking him out or assessing how much he’s changed since school.

“So, what’s good here?”

“To drink?” Dave asks, and he didn’t mean to add any innuendo to that, but it’s too late now and Kurt’s lip is curling and okay… he was being checked out. His lips twitch in amusement.

“Are there other things on offer?”

He freezes, looks at Kurt and there’s almost a challenge in his eyes. Fuck, that was definitely a proposition. He hasn’t done casual sex in years, not since college really, and his last boyfriend and him broke up four months back. But he knows Kurt. Obviously not well, because it’s been nearly twenty years since high school, but his teenage self is hyperventilating somewhere in his chest and he’s glad that at least he’s in control. It’s not the first time he’s been propositioned in his bar, it is the first time he wants to take them up on it.

“They aren’t printed on the menu…”

“Maybe you can tell me about them?”

Dave swallows and licks his lips, watches Kurt watch him and yeah okay, he’s going to do this.

“Lee! I’m out!”

“Sure thing!” Lee calls back, eyebrows wiggling and Dave rolls his eyes, because he’s never going to live this down. Fucked if he even cares right now. He isn’t even needed behind the bar and he comes around the side, lifting the divide to stand beside Kurt.

“I have to check, you’re sober right?”

“One hundred percent…” Kurt says, and his eyes are intense and Dave can feel his heart rate picking up.

“Good. That’s good…”

“Where are you taking me?”

“The office, I can lock it behind me…”

The grin Kurt gives him is filthy and he lets out a bark of laughter, fingers circling Kurt’s wrist to urge him to follow, his other hand going into his pocket to fetch the keys, and he’s impressed he doesn’t even fumble as he swipes the security fob that takes them out the back. There’s the stock room and staff bathrooms and then the little office where Dave tries to do all his business related work… Getting the key in the lock proves more difficult, especially when Kurt presses his chest against his back and lets his hips undulate.

“Fuck, you’re hotter than you were in high school…”

“Uh, thanks?” Dave says, a little surprised because he’s pretty sure he was never on Kurt’s radar in high school, not in that particular way anyway. He manages to get the key in and turn, pushing the office door open and pulls Kurt in, shuts the door and presses Kurt back against it, presses a knee between Kurt’s and lets his hands run up his thighs, can feel the muscles and knows the fabric is that weird stretchy-hybrid made to look like denim but which will, in fact, be conveniently easy to peel off… He runs his hand over Kurt’s cock, gets a little thrill that he can already feel it plumping up before he lets both hands rest on Kurt’s hips. Kurt’s own hands have been skating over his arms and shoulders, all covered by the leather of his jacket and he realises he should probably take it off. He shrugs out of it, tosses it toward his desk chair and ignores the fact he missed. The floor is still preferable than getting come stains.

He’s not sure what they going to do, it’s not like he keeps supplies in his office when his apartment is five floors away. Part of him doesn’t want to take Kurt there, wants to either blow him right here, or a hand job or… He feels the fingers in his hair, curling and pulling his head down and then they’re kissing, Kurt’s body is arching away from the door to press toward him and he leans into it, pulls Kurt’s hips tighter and swallows their moans. It feels like they kiss forever, his lips become swollen and sensitive, his hands moving over Kurt’s body trying to touch everywhere the same way his tongue is trying to learn Kurt’s mouth.

He finds the tiny patch Kurt missed when he shaved, his hands ghost under his shirt, brushes over a nipple that pebbles into hardness under a flick of his thumb and he wants to get his mouth on it. Kurt’s hands move over his shoulders, finger tips raking down his back before gripping his hips and pulling him closer into a grind before they move back up, skirting under his t-shirt. Dave focusses for a few moments on undoing the fucking buttons on Kurt’s shirt, pulling at the knot in the fabric, patience wearing thin.

His lips have moved across Kurt’s face, teeth nipping at his throat and then Kurt’s hands are helping, stripping the shirt off and tossing it in the same direction as Dave’s jacket. There’s a fucking tank underneath but before he can swear about it Kurt’s stripping it off as well and yeah… Dave lowers his head to a tan nipple, gives it a broad swipe with his tongue before circling is a couple of times with the tip before grazing across it with his cheek, knows his facial hair isn’t short enough to hurt, but will still hopefully elicit a positive response. Kurt’s gasping moan is gratifying and he moves back up, trailing kisses and scraping his teeth across his collar bone before sucking gently at the juncture in his neck.

“David… fuck…”

He captures Kurt’s lips with his own again, moving his hand to stroke Kurt through his ridiculous pants, which he has to be thankful for right now because they hide absolutely fucking nothing and Kurt is scrabbling to push them down and Dave just murmurs I got you under his breath and slips both his hands down the waist band and cups Kurt’s ass cheeks in his hands, grinds them together as he feels Kurt pant warm breath against his neck before he’s sucking and biting as well. He grunts, hooks his thumbs and pulls, knows it can’t be comfortable because the fabric is tighter across the front now, not that Kurt can probably tell with how hard he’s riding Dave’s thigh. Then he’s rolling the pants down, bunching them under the crease of Kurt’s ass, can feel Kurt squirming to roll his pants down and Dave is suddenly appreciative of the easy access fly on his jeans. He slide his hands around, moves back slightly to make room and pulls both underwear and pants down so they’re around Kurt’s well muscles thighs; flushed cock straining upwards and he had absolutely zero regrets about deciding to go with this decision tonight.

He circles his fingers around Kurt’s cock, firm but not too tight. He doesn’t know what Kurt likes and this is why he doesn’t usually do casual. Kurt isn’t complaining though and Dave watches Kurt’s cock move in his fist a couple of times while also watching Kurt’s hands lower his zipper and then Kurt’s hand is pressing against his erection and Dave groans, pushing against Kurt’s hand and shifting so his own jeans and underwear are now halfway down his thighs. Kurt shifts then, and he’s not sure how, but their cocks seem almost perfectly aligned, Kurt’s hand circling them both and Dave lets him, squeezing his own hand over Kurt’s. Fuck.

They move that way for a while, one hand on their cocks, hips grinding a little, their free hands scraping across exposed nipples and Dave is still wearing his t-shirt but he doesn’t care, because Kurt is letting that stop him from biting at the fabric covered skin.

“Can I blow you?” Dave asks, whispering the words after licking up Kurt’s neck, stopping and nibbling and sucking and it’s all slick heat between them. Kurt’s entire body surges toward him.

“Fuck yes… please…”

He kisses his way down Kurt’s chest, paying attention to each nipple before moving lower, enjoys the feel of Kurt’s ribs moving as they suck in fast breaths under his fingers and he grasps Kurt’s ass again, runs his nose up along the length of Kurt’s erection, watches Kurt as he throws his head back to only hit the door with a thunk. He runs his hands down Kurt’s legs then and… he’s still wearing the fucking heels. He groans, grips Kurt’s ankles and then runs his hand back up, hope Kurt’s aware of just how much he turn him on, how much he likes feeling the firm muscle beneath his fingers.

His lips and tongue have been butterfly soft on Kurt’s cock, passing time while his hands explored and he lets himself press firm licks and then, lips wet, he sucks the head of Kurt’s cock into his mouth, cheeks hollowing and moves his hands to grip Kurt’s hips and ass, fingers spreading wide to hold him still while he gets a feel, Kurt’s cock dragging across his tongue, moving his head back and forward, lips and tongue moving in unison to provide as much pleasure as he knows how. Kurt’s hands flutter, seemingly undecided on where they should stay. One settles on one of his own hands, pressing it harder into Kurt’s hip and he can feel the tiny prick of nails digging into skin. The other hand combs through his hair, scraping over his scalp which makes his skin prickle, move to dig into his shoulder before running through his own hair.

The noises they’re making sound loud over the distant bass of the music, Kurt muttering under his breath and Dave hears his name enough, it makes him suck a little harder each time, move a little faster. He lets his hand not covered by Kurt’s drop to his own cock and he just grips, focussing on Kurt’s pleasure for now. He can feel the small aborted flexes of his hips beneath his hand, against his tongue and he lets his hand holding Kurt still relax a little, urges him into a little motion; feels smug at the gasping shudders and he shifts his knees, raises his head and so he’s just got the head in his mouth. Wraps his hand around the base of Kurt’s cock and jerks hard and fast, continuing the sucking, head bobbing in synch with his hand; ignores Kurt’s scrambling fingers trying to warn him because he’s not new to this, he can tell Kurt’s close and he isn’t taken by surprise when he feels his mouth fill and he swallows, throat working and it always reminds him of oysters.

Kurt’s finger grip his t-shirt and he lets Kurt drag him upwards, then he’s being thoroughly kissed, glad Kurt doesn’t have any hesitation about kissing him when his mouth still tastes of come. It clearly isn’t a turn off at all and it suddenly feels like Kurt has grown an additional pair of hands, they’re moving over Dave’s body like he can’t get enough of him. One hand seems to stay on his cock, he’s not sure if Kurt is trying to keep it in time with the beat of the bass but that’s what it feels like. Kurt’s teeth scrape down his neck and Dave groans, hips jerking and he lets his hands hold onto Kurt’s ass, think about what it might feel like if they ever did this properly.

“Fuck Kurt…”

He moves a hand to cradle the back of Kurt’s head, kisses forcefully, rougher than before, more teeth and biting and his cock is starting to ache with the need to come and he knows the space between them isn’t giving Kurt any room to move his hand, not really, but he knows what he wants; braces an arm on the door, wraps his hand around Kurt’s hand on his cock and jerks off, hard and fast while his lips, teeth and beard absolutely wreck Kurt’s pale skin. When he comes it spurts between them and he can barely breathe with watching, feels a little hysterical as it runs down Kurt’s chest and he resists the urge to run his hands through it, rub it all over him.

He sucks in a few lungfuls of air in between some softer kisses, tries to force his heart rate to slow and ensure he’s steady on his feet before he steps back. He pulls his t-shirt over his head uses it to wipe Kurt’s chest. It won’t be the first time he’s had to go to his apartment with no shirt on, but it’s always been spilled drinks to blame before. He doesn’t miss the look Kurt gives the ink on his upper arms and chest; now that they’ve gotten off Dave has no idea what to say. He picks up Kurt’s clothes and passes it to him and watches as he dresses. The skin on Kurt’s face and neck is red-raw and Dave would feel bad if he hadn’t just had Kurt gasping against him. Beard burn is a thing he can’t avoid giving his partners, however there are probably a few bite marks which he maybe should have avoided, because he hadn’t really meant to leave those. Not that Kurt was complaining.

“I’ll, um, see you…” Kurt says, waving a hand back in the direction they had come and Dave nods, leans forward for a final kiss and lets him go.

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

“Boss! There’s some guy peering in the window. You want me to go tell him to go away?”

“I can do it…” Dave says, stretching out his neck and back from where he’s been crouching to count stock. It’s only just past lunch and they don’t open on a Sunday anyway, so he’s hoping it’s just someone being nosey. Or after lost property, which is pretty common. He walks to the front, slows when he sees Kurt and then speeds up again, unlocking and opening the door to the street quickly.

“Kurt. Hi…”

“Ooohhh… so this is Kurt huh?”

Dave pulls a face at Andreas because he hasn’t said anything about anyone, but of course Kurt is now looking at him with one eyebrow raised and Dave just shakes his head

“You can go and continue the stock take…” Dave says, shoving the tablet into Andreas’ hand and shooing him back to the stock room, watching him go with a pointed look that he hopes tells him to not fucking eavesdrop.

“Sorry about that. How can I help?” Dave asks, and he smirks at the little flush of pink in Kurt’s cheeks.

“I didn’t get your number.”

“I didn’t think you wanted my number…” Dave says honestly, because it hadn’t really occurred to him that Kurt might want… more.

“I waited at the bar but you never came back to work… I worried that you maybe got fired. The whole sex in the office…”

Dave laughs, shakes his head slightly. Kurt doesn’t know he can’t get fired and he’s not sure what to tell him.

“Why do you want my number Kurt?”

“Honestly?”

“Always.”

“I’m interested in more than… just last night.”

“Okay…”

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, flicking through to the fancy business cards shaped like a feather that he had made that have all his details. Passes it to Kurt and feels a little smug as Kurt takes in the logo on the frosted glass, the business card that has David Karofsky – Owner/Operator on it and then Kurt is laughing, shaking his head.

“You have any other surprises you want to tell me about?”

“That would be telling. You’ll just have to find them out the old fashioned way.”

“I look forward to it.”

#kurtofsky #kurtofsky fanfiction #kpirates #david karofsky #fanfiction #fan fic

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spideyscnse · 4 years

Text

seaside - p. parker

(sci-fi, part ii)

pairing: peter parker x reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: none! fluff <3

summary: y/n is terrified of the sea, but this is completely unbeknownst to peter, who asks her out on a date—to the beach. luckily, though, they were together, and the water wasn’t too cold today.

note: please do not plagiarise my work! (a/n: this is a continuation of sci-fi, which is a bookstore au oneshot that i wrote (it will give you more context) which you can find here but this can also be read on its own!)

masterlist

You didn’t know why you agreed to go to the beach. You hadn’t been in years, and you hadn’t swam in a pool since kindergarten—let alone the ocean.

Rubbing the sunscreen into your arms, you glanced into the floor-length mirror and tried to practice looking not-so-scared-of-the-water. You hoped that your nervousness wouldn’t be too apparent, because while you were excited to hang out with Peter, you would have rather just gone to a café or something.

“Oh yeah, also, are you free on Saturday?” Peter had asked, as the two of you were walking home one evening, after spending the entire afternoon reading together over some fruit smoothies at the shop.

“Uh, I think?” You shrugged, “Why?”

“Do you wanna go to the beach with me? I swear it’ll be fun,” He said, rubbing his hands on his jeans, and looking incredibly jittery. You weren’t sure why; you’d known each other for months! Surely he was comfortable enough by now?

At his suggestion, you sucked air through your teeth, hesitant at accepting. You’d never found it important enough to tell people, but you had always feared the ocean, and the idea of going, voluntarily, so close to it, kind of freaked you out.

When Peter realised you hadn’t responded and noted your expression, his face fell a bit and he quickly said, “I’m sorry, you don’t have to, it’s okay if you don’t want to go with me, I understand you might be—,”

You were very quick to stop him, “No, no, it’s not you, it’s just I—,” and just as you were about to decline, you sucked in some courage and changed your mind at the last second, “actually, no, it’s okay, I’ll go.”

You weren’t sure what compelled you to agree, (maybe it was the fact that his puppy-dog eyes were just far too cute) but his eyes immediately lit up and he started telling you all about the beach excitedly, and soon your nervousness was forgotten.

But now, that nervousness had returned, in all of its glory. It was kind of pitiful; weren’t teenagers supposed to love going to the beach? You heaved a sigh and pulled your bag over your shoulder, preparing yourself for the trek to the bus stop that would take you to the shore.

When the bus finally pulled into the station after twenty minutes of waiting, it was packed full, probably because it was a Saturday and everyone was trying to get to the beach, which made everything a million times worse.

The crowd left you itching in your newly bought swimwear, sitting underneath your cover-up. because you didn’t own any before Peter had asked you. Thankfully, a quick shopping trip and a rather awkward conversation with a clothing shop employee had fixed that problem, with the nice lady reassuring you that this was what people wore to the beach nowadays, and that it looked fine.

When the bus pulled to the side at the beach, half of the crowd got off, and you were spat out of the bus as the excited children and their exhausted parents swarmed out of the vehicle. You did a quick check that you still had all of your things, and then pulled out your phone to call Peter. It seemed that wasn’t necessary, though, because as soon as you hit dial and did a quick scan of the boardwalk, you found the boy you were looking for leaning against one of the fences, glancing around.

You caught his gaze and couldn’t help the smile that lit up your face, despite the incredibly fast rate of your heart and your jitters. Even the sound of the ocean made you more nervous than you would have liked, and you hoped it wasn’t too obvious.

Peter pushed himself off of the fence post he had been sitting on and rushed over to you, immediately offering to take one of your two bags. You gave him the lighter of the two after much insistence on his part to take at least something for you.

“The bus was more crowded than usual, huh?” He said as the two of you started making your way down the path. You weren’t sure where you were going, but at least it was away from the crowd that had just gotten off the bus and were still huddled around the stop. You chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as the wind pulled it out of place, “Yeah, I mean, it’s Saturday, and the beach is a popular place, I guess. Do you come here often?”

Peter shrugged, “Not really, I mean, I really like to swim and everything but I have the internship and school, and I don’t get time to come. Really would like to come more often, though,” He seemed to think for a brief moment, before adding quickly and nervously, “Especially if it’s with you.”

A blush rose to his cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck shyly.

You were left speechless, far too flattered to form a coherent sentence, and sputtered, “Uh-yeah, oh, I’d love to go out—uh, hang out—uh, yeah, uh more.”

Your words only made the situation more awkward—and instead of comforting Peter and quelling his embarrassment, it only seemed to make his blush a deeper shade of tomato.

“Uh, sorry,” He said, finally breaking the silence after walking wordlessly for several moments, “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, I was just—,”

“It’s okay, really,” You assured him, giving him a small smile, glancing up so that you could meet his eyes, “It’s true. I really like—uh, hanging out with you.”

The relief that spread across his features was almost comical; and you tried to bite back your giggles, but they still spilled past your lips, too insistent to be held back, and he exclaimed with a laugh, “Hey, don’t make fun of me, Y/N, I’m really bad at this and I don’t know what to say to—you know—,”

You tapped his shoulder lightly and told him, “Don’t worry about that, Peter,” and with a bout of newly found bravery, you said, “You’re too cute.”

He blushed again, but this time the rosiness in his cheeks was accompanied by a bright smile and shining eyes.

***

When Peter had first suggested going to swim, you’d scrambled for an excuse, and managed to make one up— “Hey, um, I’m kind of tired from the bus ride, do you wanna grab some ice cream as a refresher?”

He hadn’t objected; instead, he’d been quick to agree and quite excited as he admired the massive array of flavours spread out in front of him as the two of you entered the cute little ice cream shop by the seaside. The shop was surprisingly empty—you supposed it was because the store was located a bit further away from the bus stop, and most people probably went straight to the water.

Ah, the water. You shoved all thoughts of the stuff out of your mind and focused on picking a flavour.

You quickly made your order of two scoops of chocolate, and received it, instantly starting to eat it, but Peter was very indecisive about his flavours. There seemed to be more flavours than he’d ever seen, because he tried several of them and seemed extraordinarily excited by all of them, before ending up just getting strawberry.

He sat down opposite to you, and started eating his ice-cream cone, as well, though you noted, amused, how he kept casting looks back at the countless flavours behind the glass, and then turning to glance at you.

“Did you want another flavour instead?” You said, raising an eyebrow curiously, and Peter bit his lip and quickly turned back to you.

“Nah, I just haven’t really…felt this, you know, normal, for a long time,” He admitted, “I mean—I just haven’t had ice cream in a while, I guess.”

You considered his words, “But normal is good, right?” “Yeah, yeah, it’s good,” He said immediately, without hesitation, “It’s what I need, and I just…you know, I have the internship, and I’m always surrounded by the Avengers, and it’s tiring sometimes. This is…really nice,” He met your eyes shyly.

“I get what you mean,” You said, holding his gaze and smiling, “You’re so busy all the time, it’s kind of a miracle how you always find time to show up at the shop.” He brushed his hair out of his eyes and blurted, “Nah, I’ll always find time to see you.” You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, and felt the butterflies in your stomach before Peter’s cheeks turned pink. But, they did, half a second after yours, and the two of you returned to eating your ice cream quietly, until you just couldn’t bear watching him eat anymore.

“Peter,” You exclaimed, with a deep frown, “Did I just see you take a bite out of your ice cream? A bite? With your teeth?” “Yeah, well, I don’t want to get spit all over it by licking it—,”

***

By the time the two of you finally got even relatively close to the water, it was almost half-past four. You’d found other things to do; spending almost an hour in the ice cream shop alone, and then wandering through the various stores and buying little keychains and souvenirs. You’d found several ways to stall actually having to deal with your fears. You didn’t know how to swim. Even thinking about it made you feel embarrassed, even though it wasn’t really anything to be ashamed of. Still…

You were at a beach. With a cute boy. In swimming clothes. And you didn’t know how to swim.

When you finally reached the shoreline, after tentatively crossing the beach. The sand was kind of nice between your toes, but the thought of actually going into the water—that endless expanse of blue that you could probably very easily get lost in and never be seen again—made your head spin. Peter eagerly approached the water and walked in until he was knee-deep in the sea, beckoning you to come closer, and you bit your lip.

“Hey, it’s not too cold today!” He said excitedly, “Come on, Y/N! Oh, I forgot how nice the beach is, wow.”

“Uh, Peter, I…”

“Come on, it’s not too cold today, I promise,” He called out, and, not wanting to disappoint, you slipped off your cover-up and approached the water hesitantly.

You sucked in a deep breath and first put one foot in, then the other, but a particularly large wave washed in and then suddenly you were knee-deep in the water, you yelled out, jumping back, “Pete, I don’t—,”

“Y/N, are you okay?” He said, almost instantly at your side, his face laced with concern, “Have you swam in the ocean before? I’m so sorry I didn’t check with you, I was too excited—,” “It’s not your fault, Pete,” You shut your eyes tightly, “I don’t know how to swim.”

“What?”

This was it. He was going to be so disappointed, and then you’d have to go home on a silent bus ride, and he’d never talk to you again, and then he’d never ask you out ever again, because you were far too boring for him, and then—

“Y/N,” He said softly, taking both of your hands gently and meeting your eyes, “It’s okay. If it’s too much then we can head back, I’m sorry—,”

“No, no, I’m okay,” You insisted, and he let go of your hands carefully, letting you regain your balance. You’d gotten this far, after all. It was the first time you’d ever even touched seawater, and it was kind of nice—the way the water foamed against the sand and the glimmer of the ocean beneath the sunlight.

“Do you wanna…hold on, then?” He bit a lip as he held out a hand tentatively, “We don’t have to go too far, and you can hold—uh, my hand, if you want to—,” You took his hand.

“Thank you, Peter,” You said, the feeling of his hand in yours almost instantly making you feel much safer—at least you had someone to hold on to. You wouldn’t be lost at sea, you wouldn’t be washed away, because Peter was here. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, I was really embarrassed, and I didn’t want to make you feel bad for inviting me here, so—,”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” He said, shaking his head and carefully leading you, step by step, deeper into the water, “I understand, it’s scary. I’ll help you, though,” He said his tone brightening, “It’s not so scary when you have someone with you, is it?”

No, it really wasn’t.

“It’s so much better,” You said, unable to help the smile that crept across your lips, “Thank you, no one’s ever done this for me before.”

“This is okay, right?” He said, the waves now reaching up to your hips, “It’s kind of nice, isn’t it?”

“It is really nice,” You said softly, overwhelmed with the smell of the sea, and Peter’s smile, and the warmth of his hand, and it was just—

Nice. This was normal—it was what both of you needed, and it was nice.

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realityhelixcreates · 4 years

Text

Beta, Theta, and Me Chapter 3: Get Hired

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Avengers (Movies) Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: PG Warnings: Swearing, Homelessness, Relationships: Loki x Reader (But not right now) Characters: Tony Stark, Loki(Marvel) Additional Tags: A/B/O, Sorta, More Of An Exploration Of Life And Self Expression Within An A/B/O Framework, Loki Does What He Wants, But Loki Does Not Actually Do What He Wants, Antagonistic Bosses, Loki Has A Throne Now, But It’s Not What He Wanted

Summary: The real reason Tony Stark hired you is revealed, and you get a lateral promotion.

You backpedaled so fast that you collided with the back wall of the elevator with a loud thud.

Loki just stood there, watching.

You leapt forward and punched the 'door close' button.

Horribly, comically, the usurper prince just stood there as the doors slowly closed in his face.

Tony caught your wrist before you could hit any more buttons.

“Woah, woah, woah! Okay, yes, I'm sorry, I should have warned you. That's on me, I'm sorry.”

“What the fuck is he doing here!?!” You screeched. “Why is he in New York? Why isn't he in jail? Why is he still alive?”

“All very good questions, and I'm working on them. He's only here temporarily, and at the behest of his brother. He's made a lot of promises.”

“You want me to be a maid. You want me to be That Guy's maid. Why? Oh god, is this about the salad dressing packets? I thought they were free, I swear-”

“It's not about the salad dressing. It's about...Look, Thor tells me that he needs help around the place. Says he's been injured somehow.”

He looked fine to me!” You exclaimed. “He looked ready to murder the whole tower!” You frowned at the door. “The elevator shouldn't be able to keep him out. Why hasn't he broken in here yet? Why are we still alive?”

“Okay so that's the thing. I don't like it either, but his brother swears the guys conquering days are behind him. I don't necessarily buy it, Thor's always had a soft spot for his brother, and their culture is just different enough that 'attempted world takeover' might not be that big a transgression by their standards.

However-” He cut you off before you could start screeching again. “-Thor has told me a few things, which is a shocker, considering how tight-lipped he can be about Asgard. One: The situation has completely changed. Asgard is in shambles. The whole place, wiped. That's why they're all here; this is all that's left of them. Thor obviously doesn't want any more of them dead, Loki included, because now they're an endangered species.

Two: Thor is the king now. No more uncertainty between the two of them, no more jockeying for approval. That ship has sailed. It's over.

Three: There is something else going on that Thor was very evasive about. Or maybe he just didn't have the information to share. On their way to Earth, their ship was attacked. Whoever it was killed a lot of people, but Thor tells me Loki did something that kept the majority of them alive, but whatever it was left him horribly injured. I know he doesn't look like it, but it might be something internal, or mental. In any case, he's a hero to his people. I didn't think he had it in him, but guy's surprising me to the end, I guess. Which brings us to...

Four: Loki knew the guy who attacked them. Knew him and had worked with him. And, according to Thor, cannot speak a word about him. That's what we need though; we need to know what Loki knows. That's why he's here, that's why we are here with him. There is something here that guy wants, and we need to know what to plan for.

Which means we need to take care of Loki, and maybe acquiesce to a few of his demands.”

“Which are?”

“Well...he needs someone to keep the place clean, maybe cook sometimes. So, for the good of the world, you must become Loki's maid.”

“The actual fuck? Why me though?”

Tony's eyes found the elevator ceiling, as he tried to come up with the right words.

It clicked.

“Oh.” You said. “No one knows he's here, do they?”

“Well, not many people, no. For obvious reasons.”

“And I just got in a fight with someone who has been looking for a reason to fire me since I was hired, so if I don't show up tomorrow, no one will think twice about it.”

“Well-”

“And if I just disappear entirely, it won't matter. I was just a homeless drifter, no one will care.”

“That's not it.”

“It is. It's all right. I understand. There are things you can't risk, and I am extremely expendable.”

He looked guilty, at least. Practically squirming with shame. Good. He understood too.

You hit the 'open door' button.

The elevator doors opened slowly with a ding. Loki was still standing there, as if he hadn't moved once in the entire time you'd been talking.

“Hey there, curlicue, got a minute?”

Loki's lip curled.

“Clearly.” He drawled, in a voice much lower than you expected.

“Well, after reviewing your list of dema-er, requests, we have seen fit to assign you a maid.” Tony pressed against your shoulder, urging you forward and out of the elevator. “This is _______. She can clean, and cook a little.”

Loki eyed you slowly up and down, his expression between a sneer and a smirk.

“This is the best you have to offer, Stark? This filthy, malnourished waif? I'm offended.”

You drew back at the tone of disgust in his voice. Wow, rude.

“I think you mean grateful? Because you only get the one, so better not fuck it up.”

“Very well.” Loki grumbled. “You may leave us.”

“I mean it!” Tony threatened as the elevator doors closed. “You better not treat her bad! I'll hear about it and then I'll-”

The doors closed, leaving you alone with a killer.

“Okay.” You said quietly. “So, it's good to meet you. I think.”

You held out your hand, which he just glanced down at impassively. He didn't take it, but his fingers did twitch as if he was thinking about it. You reached out further to grab his indecisive hand-

-But your fingers passed right through him, his whole body fizzling away in a crackle of green light. You screamed and jumped away. You had made Loki explode!

A deep chuckle reached you, morphing into a soft cough. At the end of the entryway hall, where the penthouse expanded into a more open, circular area, was Loki. No armor, no horns, just a rich robe, a wheelchair, and a large neck brace that his long hair spread out over.

“Pathetic creature.” He rasped. “Frightened of phantoms. Come here and let me look at you.”

The place smelled strongly of Alpha, you finally noticed, and you sighed quietly. You didn't find the smell as pleasant as other people seemed to. It wasn't bad, exactly, but it did mean that he was probably used to people just doing whatever he said.

You ambled down the hall towards the new boss. You'd been in New York at the time of the attack. You weren't homeless then, but you had hidden in the subway all the same. The aliens didn't have the time to go down there. They were too busy zipping around topside.

But footage of the battle had been all over the news, including this terrible man. This horrible Loki, who stared at you with tired, sunken, calculating eyes. As if he were searching for your worth. It was strange to see him like this. He probably couldn't even stand on his own.

“As sacrifices go, you are a poor offer on his part.” Loki finally said. “But you will have to do.”

“Sacrifice?”

“Yes, of course. Didn't Stark tell you? Every full moon, I must drink the blood of an innocent. The moon waxes full tonight, and my great hunger must be appeased. Unfortunate for you, but that is how it goes sometimes. Now lean down and stretch out your neck.”

“Oh yeah? If you're a Dracula, where's your fangs then?” You demanded, crossing your arms.

“Look here, delicious morsel.” He opened his mouth, and long fangs slid into place. You jumped back in surprise. Could he actually be-?

Loki laughed again, once again trailing off into a pained cough. The fangs were gone.

“How are you doing that!?!”

“I am powerful beyond your greatest imaginings. I can seize your perceptions, even alter your very sense of reality.”

His body changed in a sparkle of green light, to your own form. It was disconcerting to see yourself tucked into a wheelchair, bulky neck brace holding your head straight and stiff.

“I can be anything.” He said, in your voice. “Anyone. I could be right behind you at any moment, wearing any face, and you would never know.”

“Wait. Does that mean that first face isn't real either?” You asked.

He went silent. Your stolen visage dissolved back into dark hair and snow-white skin, cold gaze glittering up at you.

Oops. Strike a nerve?

“I have an order for you.” He said icily. “For your first service to me, I want you to go into your rooms, and bathe. You are utterly filthy, and I find the stench distracting.”

You bristled a little, but you couldn't exactly refute the accusation. You hadn't had access to a shower in a while.

Loki held out his hands and a bundle of sage green cloth shimmered into being.

“Don't put your old clothes back on. They carry the same odor. Use these instead.”

You eyed the little bundle suspiciously. Why did he just...have these?

“These are real, right?” You asked. “They aren't gonna just disappear off me when you feel like being funny, right?”

“Now that would be predictable, wouldn't it? No, these are real, and they are for you. That uniform you are wearing is ugly and graceless, as well as smelly. There isn't much I can do with the rest of you, but I can at least dress you properly.”

“Thanks, I think.” You said, accepting the clothes. “I'll just...go shower, I guess.”

*****

Your new apartment was unfurnished, but it had hardwood floors, and real tiles, and excellent lighting. It was certainly miles better than the cramped little place you'd shared with your old roommate, and even more than the old, drafty house you'd grown up in, before your parents had gone completely stupid.

They would have protested this. Working for a billionaire. Subservient to the enemy. And for what? In exchange for a roof over your head and food to eat? For health insurance and financial stability? What about Liberty? What about self-sufficiency? What about independence?

But you weren't like them. You understood the reality of the world.

The shower felt wonderful. You didn't have toiletries yet, but someone had left behind tiny little soaps and shampoos, like you would find in a hotel. They would do just fine for now.

There was so much grime to wash away. Dirt, and dead skin, and scabs. A year and a half to scrub out of your hair, off your shoulders, and down the drain. The warm water felt like new life, like rebirth. Like shedding your old skin and growing into a new one.

There were no towels, so you just squeezed as much water out of your hair as you could, scrapped it off yourself with your hands, splashing droplets everywhere, flapped your arms and walked in little circles in what you had decided would become the living room, just trying to dry off and figure out your new situation.

This would be the living room, and that would be the bedroom, and that would be a hobby room, if you ever decided to get back into things. You would put a little table there, in front of the window between the living room and the kitchenette. A couch or chair there, a sleeping bag, maybe even eventually a real bed! A houseplant, and food in the kitchen, a laptop, and maybe a pet fish. Like a real person.

And outside, an alien. An Alpha. A war criminal that you had to obey. He was waiting, and you could almost feel his impatience.

You were as dry as you were going to get. Might as well get dressed.

Loki was right about the elegance part. Stark janitor uniforms were simple and utilitarian, but this Asgardian style uniform was well fitted, high quality, and beautiful.

How had he known what size to give you? He was a prince after all; perhaps he was such a connoisseur of women that he could tell from a glance. The underthings especially gave you pause.

There was one accessory-a choker made from velvet ribbon, with a bejeweled golden horned serpent biting its own tail affixed to the front. It was a little too much like a collar for your liking, so you slipped it into one of the multiple pockets in your new uniform.

You headed back out into the hall, to find him waiting in his own living room area, gazing out the wall of windows at the city view. His back was to you.

“That took entirely too long.” He said without turning. “Were you truly so encrusted with grime? Perhaps you will require sandpaper next time, to remove it all?”

“I didn't have a towel.” You admitted.

“Ah yes. You haven't moved in your things yet. Or...do you not have anything to move?”

“I have things.” You said, slowly approaching. “They just aren't here.” They were scattered out in hidden caches around the city. There wasn't much, it was true, and no furniture, but you had a sleeping bag, and some blankets, backpacks, toiletries, even books. In more suburban areas, it was much easier to rummage in the trashcans. You just had to wait until very late at night, on weekdays., and find the houses that didn't have motion activated lights. You could find some good things there.

He glanced up at you as you came to stand beside him. He couldn't turn his head in that big brace, but his eyes followed your reflection in the glass.

“You are not fully in uniform.” He said.

“What? Oh.” You said, remembering the necklace in your pocket. “Well...I'm just not comfortable wearing a collar. I'm a maid, not a dog.”

“Silly thing.” He said. “It's to let the world know that not just anyone gets to order you around. That you are a servant to royalty, and are not subject to poor treatment.”

“Still...”

“Turn me around.” He interrupted abruptly.

You didn't know why he needed you to do that, when he seemed perfectly capable of getting around on his own, but you obliged.

“Now kneel.” He ordered.

“What?”

“Kneel, servant.” He repeated a little impatiently. “There is a little bit of ceremony that must be observed, to make you officially mine. Kneel before me.”

This was getting a bit too kinky for your tastes, but you did it anyway. Maybe he was playing games with you, or maybe this really was the way Asgardian royalty did things. You didn't know.

But he very suddenly had a dagger in his hands, with such a long blade, it might as well have been a sword, and you shied away. Maybe Stark had been wrong, and his murderous streak had not been erased after all. If he killed you, he would no doubt be severely punished, but that wouldn't do anything for you, now would it?

“Kneel, and bow your head.” He commanded. You did, hoping it would keep him from getting stabby.

He laid the blade on your left shoulder, very close to your neck, like he was knighting you.

“______, Maid of Midgard, I accept you into my entourage as the executor of...maidly duties, which shall consist of both whatever I need and whatever I ask.”

When you opened your mouth to protest, he quickly raised a finger.

“A good servant does whatever is required of them, and a good master knows what not to ask. Now rise. And put on the necklace.”

And you did.

“You are now the first of my entourage on Earth. Congratulations. Now do go make us lunch. I am famished.”

#betathetaandme #loki x reader #loki (marvel)#tony stark

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wazzupmrstark · 5 years

Text

We’re Only Kidding Ourselves- Part Fourteen || Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: I will take my romantic bakery side story to the grave it is the ultimate life goal. Also big shout-out to @alt-ernativewonderland for helping me with my indecisiveness with this part!!

Prompt: Enemies to lovers au (from @marvelellie‘s 1k writing challenge!!)

Summary: You work as a production assistant for the Spider-Man: Far From Home crew, or rather as Tom Holland’s handler. The two of you don’t get along very well to say the least, but you won’t quit and he can’t fire you so you’re stuck with each other.

Warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of previous smut

What I listened to while writing: mamma mia + rap playlist I made for literally no reason

Word Count: 3.1k yeah boi

“Are you okay?” Tom asked. “You were crying out,”

“Yeah,” you panted, trying to convince not only him, but yourself too. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Nightmare?”

“Something like that.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

He settled back down on his side, but didn’t turn away from you. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, sorry to wake you.”

“S’okay, don’t worry about it,” he assured you before rolling back over. His accent combined with his mumbling from being half asleep made his sentences almost unintelligible, but that’s not what you were focused on at the moment.

Your heart was still beating a thousand miles a minute and the sheets were still tangled between your fingers like they had been in your dream, making the line between fantasy and reality that much finer.

Pushing your hair off of your face you sat up and saw that the pillow barrier between you and Tom was all messed up from how you must have been thrashing around in your sleep. You would have laughed at the irony of the metaphor if you weren’t still internally panicking.

You were thankful you hadn’t been saying actual words in your sleep. What if you had called out Tom’s name? God, you were already so mortified. You had never had a sex dream so vivid before, and never about someone who was sleeping right beside you.

You dogeared the page in your book and set it on the bedside table. Every time you picked it back up you’d be reminded of how Tom had thrown it across the room with lust in your dream. Taking a risk, you peered over cautiously at him whose breathing was steady now. Somehow the boy had gone back to sleep instantly and you were so jealous.

He had to have come back from the bar, showered, brushed his teeth, gotten into bed, and fallen asleep- all without waking you. He was the loudest person you knew, and you were such a light sleeper, how was that even possible?

It was the middle of the night, four am to be exact, but it was safe to say you were awake now. Despite everything there was still a dull ache in your core and an electric energy that tingled in your veins. You had been this close to getting off in your dream before real-life Tom had woken you up. You considered finishing the job yourself, but you couldn’t do that with him in the room, much less right next to you.

You rolled over, away from him and towards the window, trying to breathe steadily. Just because you’d dreamt about Tom in that way didn’t mean you actually wanted him in that way. It’d just...been a while that’s all. And people have random sex dreams about their bosses all the time, this was no different.

You told yourself all of this, but weren’t convinced.

Much like the last, your night was restless. You were afraid that if you drifted off again the dream would pick up right where it had left off, not that you’d be able to sleep if you tried, but you couldn’t risk waking Tom like that again.

You figured that if you were already awake you might get some work done so you propped yourself up in bed and filled out overdue paperwork until you were actually a week ahead of schedule. You were so focused you hadn’t even realized how long you’d been working for until you noticed the sun had started rising and was steadily filling the room up with light. You glanced over at Tom who was still fast asleep and saw that his arm was slung over the pillow barrier and his fingers were outstretched almost like he was reaching for you. His hands looked soft, yet calloused from stunts and training. You wondered if they actually were soft.

For once you were up and getting ready before Tom. You even braved the streets of Venice without Harrison’s sweatshirt to get you and Tom some breakfast. He had gotten you waffles that one morning and you wanted to pay him back. It seemed like there were cafes on every corner so the hard part wasn’t finding where to get breakfast, but choosing where. You decided on the family owned cafe where you’d gotten your coffee the other day because you knew the people were friendly.

To your surprise they recognized you immediately and smiled at you as you approached the counter.

“Can I help you?” one of the women asked, seeming to remember you had ordered in English the last time you were there. You hadn’t noticed before that she had an American accent and your eyes must’ve lit up in recognition because she chuckled a little at your reaction. “I’m from Atlanta,” she explained.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude or anything! I was just surprised that’s all-”

“Don’t worry about it, you didn’t do anything wrong!” she assured you. “My wife, Paula, is from here so this is where we decided to open our cafe.”

“I would love to live here,” you lied. Any reasonable person would want to spend the rest of their life in Venice, but you couldn’t say the same for yourself. Not after everything that had happened over the course of just a few days.

“Yeah, what’s not to love? Good people, good food, good business.” You nodded and smiled politely. “Anyway, what can I get started for you?”

“I’m not quite sure, actually. I’m supposed to get something for me and my...friend, but I don’t know what he likes. What do you recommend?”

“Our cornettos are really popular and so are our fette biscottates, which is like a little toast. Paula butters the cornettos really lightly so that they’re just fluffy enough and everyone orders them with this rich chocolate sauce she makes, it’s not a very healthy breakfast, but it is delicious.”

“I’ll do two of those, please,” you decided.

“With the sauce?”

“Of course.”

You managed to carry the baked goods and two coffees back to the hotel without any casualties, which was pretty impressive for you.

Tom was awake and getting ready by the time you got back. When you walked in he was pulling up his jeans and you immediately and shielded your eyes with the bag of pastries .

“Oh shit, sorry!” you apologized.

“We’ve been through this a hundred times, y/n, I don’t care. I change in front of dozens of people every day,” Tom sighed.

“Well, the door was also wide open and I don’t think you want the whole world to see that,” you added, hoping he’d attribute your jumpiness to that.

“I’d be doing the world a favor,” he said and smirked over at you as he pulled a t-shirt on over his head, clearly flexing for emphasis in the process.

You tried not to spill coffee all over the carpet as you watched him. “I don’t know if ‘favor’ is the word I would use,” you shot back, trying to keep your voice even. Tom laughed. You put the food and drinks on the dresser and picked up your cup. “I got us some breakfast.”

“Us?” he asked, looking up from the watch he was fastening around his wrist.

“Yeah, you got breakfast the other day, I wanted to return the favor.” You handed him his coffee and began rifling through the paper bag for the food.

“Thank you,” he took a sip. “It’s prefect, thanks.”

“It better be. I memorized your coffee order after two weeks of being on the job.”

“I was surprised it took you that long.”

“I can eat all this food myself,” you threatened.

“Sorry! I was joking,” he insisted.

You shot him a look. “Mmhmm.” You pulled the pastries out of the bag and handed one to him. “They’re cornettos, basically big croissants. I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s perfect.”

You sat on the floor with your cornetto and Tom followed your lead. You popped the lid off of the chocolate sauce and put it in between you and Tom on the floor to share. He ripped a bite-size piece off to dip and you did the same and tried not to let any drip on your clothes or the carpet in the process. The woman at the cafe had been right, it was delicious.

“You didn’t sleep last night again, did you?” Tom asked after taking another sip of his coffee.

“No,” you admitted, figuring he would know if you were lying anyway. You didn’t know how he always called you on your bullshit, but he did. And it was irritating.

“Y/n!” he groaned.

“I know, I know,” you sighed. “How’d you know?”

“You were up earlier than me, which never happens so I figured you just hadn’t gone back to sleep,” he explained. “You should’ve kept me up, sometimes it helps to talk nightmares through.”

You shook your head with half a laugh and tore off another piece of your cornetto. “Trust me, it only would’ve made things worse.”

His face softened. “Well, I’m sorry that you had such a bad dream. I hope you get some sleep tonight.”

“Thanks,” you smiled and put the bite in your mouth, letting the bittersweet chocolate roll over your tongue. “Me too.”

Tom went down to the lobby first and you followed a few minutes later. Everyone was already scrambling around, trying to get on boats, and you decided you’d just stay back and get on one of the later ones. You couldn’t see Tom in the sea of people anyway, but figured he’d already snaked his way through the crowd onto one of the earliest boats. At least, you hoped that’s what had happened.

One of the main differences between filming in London and abroad was that here it was every man for himself. Back in England the actors had all had preferential, treatment, especially Tom. He was Spider-man. But back there everything was centered around the actors, everyone was always making sure the actors were catered to and where they needed to be when. But here in Venice (and in Prague) everything was centered around production. Everyone had their own shit to take care of and being on-location made everything ten times harder to set up so the actors were on their own, aside from having assistants.

You thought Tom might actually like this style better. He was pretty independent, as he liked to remind you, and you noticed that having everyone fuss over him all the time definitely made him a little uncomfortable. That being said, you’d still be the one in trouble if he didn’t get himself where he was supposed to be when he was supposed to be there, so you could only hope.

Thankfully, no one was blowing up your phone about Tom once you got to set so you figured he’d checked in like he was supposed to.

The sky was gray and overcast, unlike it had been this morning, threatening to start a downpour at any moment. The storm had rolled in unannounced, throwing everyone and everything off schedule. Over your radio you could hear different people starting to yell directions about waterproofing the equipment, which ideally should’ve started hours ago.

Once you got over to the tent with the other crew you were able to see Tom at his mark, ready to start filming whenever he got his cue. Harrison was over there with him, most likely telling a story from what you could tell by the way he was gesturing wildly with his hands.

Watching from the sidelines made the feelings of helplessness you’d had when you initially took the job start creeping back. It was hard to resist the urge to help run wires or set up rigs and dollies with the other production assistants like you’d been trained to do, but you’d tried before and were only scolded for it. The other PAs saw you as an outsider and didn’t want your input and the higher crew heads thought you were incompetent even though you had the same training and experience as all the other assistants. Standing and watching everyone work was your job, and you’d learned to have a sort of indifference over time, but on hectic days like these you still had to fight the itch to jump in and help.

It was starting to sprinkle now, and more and more people started crowding around under the tent while others ran around trying to save the scene and the equipment. People were arguing in your ear about whether to shoot the scene or postpone it. Everything was descending into chaos.

You looked back over to where Tom had been standing on the bridge and saw that he was still there, waiting for instructions. Harrison was holding an umbrella over the both of them, shouting across the lot at someone on the other side. You wondered whether or not you should try to get over to them. You were reaching for your phone to text Haz when you felt someone bump your shoulder. You started to apologize before you realized it was Zendaya who had somehow made her way through the masses to be at your side.

“How many cups have you had today?” she asked with a smirk, nodding at the paper cup in your hand.

“Only two,” you insisted.

“Right.”

“I swear!”

“Well you look crazy,” she said.

“Thank you so much, Z,” you scoffed. “You know, I keep hearing that-”

“No, I mean you just look exhausted, yet also super buzzed.”

“I had a weird night,” you sighed.

“No sleep again?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Wanna talk about it?” she asked sincerely and you were reminded of every time she’d confided in you about her dating life. Maybe she’d have some good advice.

“Um, yeah actually,” you agreed thankfully. “But can we, uh go over there?”

You led her over to a small area that had been cleared out because of the rain, holding an umbrella over the both of you.

“Miss y/l/n, can you please tell Mr. Holland that we’re moving shooting up an hour?” an indistinguishable voice suddenly asked over headset.

You sighed. Of course you had to be the bearer of bad news.

“I’ll let him know,” you replied over the comm and rolled your eyes, thankful they couldn’t see you. You pulled out your phone and shot Tom a quick text, something literally anyone else could have done, before giving Zendaya your attention again.

“Okay, what’d you drag me all the way over here for?”

“I have to tell you something, but you can’t tell anyone,” you said nervously, hoping what you said wouldn’t get back to Tom somehow. “Promise?”

“Promise,” she agreed. “Okay, why didn’t you sleep? Oh my god, is this about a boy?”

“Kind of?” you cringed at the way Zendaya’s eyes lit up. “Not like that.”

She deflated visibly. “Oh.”

“So I sort of, had a dream,” you paused, not sure if you could force yourself to say the words.

“A dream?”

“A...sex dream.”

“About who?”

“About...Tom.”

“What?”

“I know,” you groaned and put your head in your hands. Zendaya pursed her lips, trying not to laugh. “It’s not funny!”

“I know, I know I’m sorry,” she said, pulling herself together. “What happened?”

“I-I didn’t even know it was a dream at first, he was just in my hotel room and we were talking and then he kissed me again and then-”

“Wait,” Zendaya cut you off. “Again? Tom...kissed you? In real life?” You froze, realizing you’d slipped. Your expression must’ve given you away because Z’s eyes went wide and she grabbed your wrist excitedly. “Y/n!”

“It wasn’t like that! I think. He didn’t mean it-I don’t know it’s confusing.”

“Clearly. Okay wait, wait, your dream. What happened in your dream?”

“Right,” you inhaled deeply, trying to clear your head. “He kissed me again and then he...took off my shirt and my...ummder,” you mumbled the last part.

“Your what?” She grinned, obviously loving this.

“You know what!” Your cheeks were positively on fire, but getting it all off your chest was starting to feel good. “And then he, you know.”

Zendaya waited for you to elaborate. “He what?”

“You know,” you hissed and put your tongue in between your fingers to demonstrate.

“He ate you out?”

“In my dream!” you reminded her.

“Did you, you know?” she asked with a smirk.

“Almost, but no.”

“Damn. What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know, people have sex dreams about their bosses all the time, right?”

“I guess, but your boss has also kissed you.”

“Yeah, and?”

“Do you think maybe your subconscious was giving you what you really wanted?”

It wasn’t what you’d wanted to hear, but Zendaya had a point. But before you could even process what she’d said yourself, you felt a tap on your shoulder and whipped around. Behind you, was another production standing in the rain and you instantly wondered how much she’d overheard.

“What?” you asked, wanting her to get to the point as fast as possible. Clearly she had something important to tell you if she came all the way over here, but she was hesitating, cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment.

“Um, sorry to interrupt, but we kind of need to use channel three.”

“What?” you repeated, even more confused.

“The radios, we need to use channel three, but we haven’t been able to because your headset is, um, in use on that channel.”

Still confused, you looked down at the wiring on your headset and realized the speaking button had gotten stuck from when you told whoever that you’d pass the message on to Tom, meaning the whole production crew had just heard the entirety of what you’d just said. Every production assistant, manager, director had heard about the wet dream you’d had about your boss. Including Harrison.

Without another word you thrust the umbrella into Zendaya’s hands and took off at a sprint, not even sure where you’d be able to find Haz.

He wasn’t that hard to locate, as it turned out. You found him right where he’d been earlier, standing where the actors marks were on his phone. He looked up when he heard you run up, unfazed.

“Haz,” you panted, “did you-”

“Hear all of that? Yeah. Kind of wish I hadn’t,” he said coldly.

You were thrown off for a second. You’d expected him to joke with you, tease you about accidentally telling at least fifty people about your sex dream, but you were met with hostility instead.

“Please,” you begged. “Please don’t tell Tom.”

“How do you know someone else won’t?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“I don’t. But he can’t hear it from his best friend. Please. Promise me?”

fuck me this is late, but it was a lot of fun to write!! today was a fucking day, y’all. I had a french quiz, I fell in the middle of the street and scraped both my knees, it was wild. anwyay, lmk what you think I always appreciate feedback!!

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#tom holland #tom #tommy #woko #were only kidding ourselves #tom holland x reader #x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fic

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iredreamer · 5 years

Note

Hi! really love your blog. I find Anne's dairies to be fascinating and I love reading through your interpretation of her words. If you don't mind me asking, cause i don't remember seeing it addressed before: did the whole thing with Ainsworth actually happen? Did Anne really threaten him like she did on the show? did he actually inflicted himself on Ann or was he just a past lover of sorts?

hey :) thank you so much sweet anon, I’m happy you’re loving all the Anne’s facts! She’s just so fascinating, I’m inspired and amazed by her every single day. And my brain still doesn’t fully understand that she actually existed lol.

About Ainsworth, I remember writing something about it but just little things while talking about other things so, no, I never answered these questions.

Let’s start with the death of Mrs Ainsworth, because that’s what really sets things into motion:

October 26, 1832 > The letter with black-edged paper & black seal from Miss Bentley [Ainsworth’s sister-in-law], Manchester, being given to Miss W- junior to read – it fell from her hand on seeing that it was to announce the death of her friend Mrs Ainsworth, in consequence of being thrown out of an open carriage… Immediately proposed our returning – walked home with Miss W-, & instead of going to Shibden as I had intended, wrote & sent at 5 little note to my aunt, stating the case & begging her not to expect me today.

This is what Anne Lister writes about the announcement of Mrs Ainsworth’s death. It happens just like in the show, and Anne stays with Miss Walker all night. They talk about the Ainsworths and Anne even thinks that Miss Walker will "succeed her friend ” and become the new Mrs Ainsworth: “Miss W- seemed much affected but I have really got her to be far better than I could have expected – It instantly struck me – she would in due time succeed her friend & be[come] Mrs Ainsworth.” [SH:7/ML/E/15/0135] She thinks that AW will marry Mr Ainsworth, that’s her first thought, even before anything that might suggest a possible proposition of marriage happens, and (in my opinion) that says a lot about AL’s fear of being left for a man (again) and seeing yet again another one of her lovers not choosing her but marrying a man in the end.

The first letter to Ann Walker from Mr Ainsworth arrives on the 1st of November: November 1, 1832 > She [AW] begged me to stay till she had read her letter from Mr Ainsworth, & this occasioned us such dolefuls that I offered to stay till tomorrow & wrote to this effect to my aunt saying Miss W- had had letters giving the particulars of Mrs Ainsworth death & was so affected I would not leave her tonight. Mr Ainsworth hopes Miss W- will not forsake him as a friend, and begs her to write to him, without mentioning to Miss Bentley (his sister-in-law) his having written to Miss W-. ‘Oh ho’, thought I, ‘all this is very clear’ and I candidly told her what I thought. She owned she could not misunderstand him but could not shew me his letter after the request he had made. This led to my saying that she must now decide between Mr A- and me and ought to make up her mind before she sat down to write to him. Convinced her to this & it ended in her resolving to give me her final answer on Monday – to write to Mr A- on that day – and shew me her letter. [SH:7/ML/E/15/0136 & SH:7/ML/E/15/0137]

So, before having anything to do with Mr Ainsworth, Anne Lister tries to understand what are Ann Walker’s intentions about all this. The events in the show have been slightly re-ordered, just because at the end of the day they were writing a show and we’re watching a show, so things have to be structured and the story needs to unfold not in a confusing way.

The 2nd of November (Friday) is their last sad day together before the weekend and then on Monday (the 5th) all the business with the purse happen (which actually happened, they were so extra I cant with them I swear) etc. etc.

After the purse thing, Anne Lister gives more time to Ann Walker (till the 1st of January) to decide whether to say “yes” or “no” to her. Ann Walker still remains undecided about Ainsworth and Anne Lister "even had to dictate Ann’s discouraging letter back to the importuning Ainsworth.” [Nature’s Domain] (as we see in the show).

Finally, on Wednesday, AW tells AL the truth about why she thinks she has to marry Ainsworth: November 7, 1832 > Then spoke of Mr Ainsley [Ainsworth] – she was very nervous. At last, from little to more, it came out that if she married him, it would be from duty. I pressed for explanation & discovered that she felt bound to him by some indiscretion – he had taught her to kiss, but they had never gone so far as she & I had done. He had express pathetic sorrow but was annoyed at the business with Mr Fraser & she did not know whether she should have been happy with Mr F-. On Mr A-’s account my indignation rose against the parson – I reasoned her out of all feeling of duty or obligation towards a man who had taken such base advantage.” [SH:7/ML/E/15/0141]

After this “confession” and after Anne tells her that she has no obligation to marry Ainsworth, AW gives AL her “yes” (but, as in the show, it’s not a firm yes and she will take it back etc. etc. her indecision never ends). Mr Ainsworth keeps writing to AW and AL keeps dictating discouraging letters as a response. AL never meets Ainsworth, she just threatens him through letters. It’s just all correspondence. From the companion book: “The Reverend Ainsworth continued to write, but following a thinly veiled threat to expose his adultery if he continued to communicate with Ann, it was Anne Lister to whom his long ‘rigmarole’ letters were addressed.”

Clearly they changed this because it would have been boring to watch people just write letters to each other all the time, and I’m glad they did because that scene with Ainsworth is AMAZING. But Anne did hate him, she really hated him, at one point she even told AW to not answer anymore and just ignore him. AW kept rejecting him for the longest time (he proposes to her even in 1833 while Ann’s in Scotland).

Going back to the: “he had taught her to kiss, but they had never gone so far as she & I had done.”... From what AL writes, and from what AW says, Ainsworth never inflicted himself on Ann Walker and they never even had sex but the whole thing is not so clear, in fact, at one point AL suspects that AW did have sex with Mr Ainsworth: November 25, 1832 > “In spite of all her declarations to the contrary, I begin to suspect he [Ainsworth] really has deflowered & enjoyed her or how this so declaring against marrying anybody else & this feeling bound to him & how all the pain she suffered sometimes could scarcely walk & why never tell the gross & offending expression he used in his first lett[er] after the death of his wife & that no man would use to the woman he meant to marry? She must have had some man or other, I can never satisfy her.” [SH:7/ML/E/15/0153]

So, Anne Lister thought that AW and Ainsworth had indeed been intimate with each other. At the same time we should keep in mind that these are just AL’s thoughts and not necessarily the truth, she’s just trying to find an explanation to AW’s behaviour.

There is also a passage that I think could be open to interpretation. Anne Lister writes: November 25, 1832 > “Then grubbled her, she making no sort of objection but evidently enjoying it – she thought Mr A- had a smaller hand than mine – I said he had done it more roughly than necessary to spoil her as much as he could without the real thing “yes” (but said she hastily) “he did it first”, that is grubbled first.” [SH:7/ML/E/15/0153] AW had also said to AL that she “felt repugnance to forming any connection with the other sex.” (November 1, 1832) If we put these two things together, maybe we could speculate that what happened between Ainsworth and AW was not consensual. But this is just an interpretation and, as far as I know, in the diaries there’s no explicit mention of rape or sexual abuse.

(Most of the diary’s extracts are from Nature’s Domain by Jill Liddington, and others I decoded from Anne’s diary > Anne Lister’s diaries archive)

tl;dr the Ainsworth thing happened, yes, slightly different from what we saw but mostly accurate; he was certainly not a past lover; AL did threaten him but a lot more subtly and through letters, they never met; there was no rape but maybe Ainsworth’s attentions were really unwanted even tho’, to be absolutely sure, we would need Ann Walker’s pov on the matter which we don’t have.

#gentleman jack #anne lister #ann walker #real people: anne lister #real people: ann walker #me screaming about gentleman jack #ann walker: ainsworth #anne lister diaries #ALyear: 1835 #ALentry: 25 nov 1832 #ALentry: 7 nov 1832 #ALentry: 1 nov 1832 #ALentry: 26 oct 1832 #anon #ask #anonymous

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some-cookie-crumbz · 5 years

Text

Duck, Duck, Goose

Duck, Duck, Goose - Kidge Month Day 1 Prompt Fill Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Kidge Summary: She flashed him an flat look. “I was on board when I thought it was about getting free food and free shit; not when it was about people invading my personal space like I’m a petting zoo animal or something,” Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more.

All his years had done nothing to ease Keith’s discomfort with big get-togethers. Admittedly, he hadn’t had to worry too much about it in recent years. His work with the Blade rarely ever called upon him attending large, extravagant parties. The most he did were peace dinners and conferences and the like, which were always geared towards resolving volatile situations and easy to manage. He went in with an end goal in mind and he implemented strategies he’d learned over the years to try and achieve the ends he desired. In regards to his personal life, there were parties, sure, but they were much more family celebrations. He enjoyed those because he was comfortable with the people there, being surrounded by people he loved and who understood him.

Big things like this, though? Not really his thing.

He stole a quick glance at the array of wrapped and bagged gifts, all decorated in pastel colors or prints with baby animals on them. He only knew a handful of the people present because most of them were friends of Colleen and Sam’s, with a small sprinkling of Garrison officers whose name he couldn’t be bothered to remember. The others were there, too, but the only people he could really see were Shay, Allura and his Mom. Shiro, Hunk, Lance and Coran, from what he’d seen, were getting a similar treatment of being shooed away from the center of excitement. He’d had that happen to him more times than he could count in the last hour and a half, which was more than a little frustrating. There would be points of loud, ecstatic squeals from the congregation of women but when he tried to see what was happening, he’d get pushed aside or, typically by the much older women in the group, told “It’s women’s business”.

After the seventh time, he plucked a can of pop from the little cooler by the food table and slipped outside. There was just a slight nip in the air as autumn started to settle in, the leaves of the nearby trees already changed to orange, yellow and brown hues, clinging to their branches with the last bits of energy they had. The smell of the leaves and change felt relaxing as he settled into one of the plush loungers couch on the patio. He popped the can open and took a sip, staring out at the well-tended yard and just enjoying the peace and quiet for a moment.

He perked up at the click of the sliding glass door being pushed open, offering up a smile when he saw it was just Pidge. "You alone out here?" She asked, still taking the time to poke her head out a little bit and scan the area.

"Yeah. Sure you can sneak away, though? I mean, you two are the lives of the party," He teased, gesturing back inside with a tip of his soda can.

She groaned and walked out, shutting the door with the utmost delicacy. He shifted a bit in his seat, preparing to get up and help her as she shuffled her way over to join him. "Ugh, don't remind me!" She lamented, prodding his side with one finger and scooting a bit closer.

He chuckled and shook his head, lifting his arm regardless and letting her snuggle up into his side. “You were so on board with this earlier,” He teased as he let his arm drop around her shoulders.

She flashed him an unamused look. “I was on board when I thought it was about getting free food and free shit; not when it was about people invading my personal space like I’m a petting zoo animal or something,”

He took a small sip of his soda before setting it on the little side table. "Huh, they've been taking the opposite approach with me; been shuffling me out every chance they get. Then again, they've been doing that to every guy, so maybe that's it," He commented. He tried to not take offense, but it did bother him that he kept getting pushed out. And hearing that his wife wasn’t exactly having the time of her life only amped up his anxiety about everything. "Everyone's been way too far up in your personal space, though?"

"Yes," She groaned before holding one hand up, squishing her fingers together so close there was almost no space between them, "and I'm this close to stabbing someone with a spork if they don't knock it off."

He scowled. "I'm pretty sure that would go against the doctor's orders to avoid any strenuous physical activity,"

"Pssh, no," She said with a small roll of her eyes.

"I think you're underestimating the amount of force you'd need to do any real damage with a plastic fork,"

“Well, I think you're underestimating my ability when pushed to my limit," She retorted. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way, pal.”

"Have they been that aggressive? Do you want me to go set them straight?" He offered, glancing down at her and then peering over his shoulder. The crowd had moved towards the present table, most like debating whose gift would be opened when, and a small part of him was glad that they seemed oblivious to Pidge slipping away.

"It's less that they're aggressive and more that I don't know everyone and they're just kinda... Coming right over and touching all up on this," She said with a frustrated huff, indicating her swollen belly with a wave of her hand. She shifted to press a little bit closer to him, letting her head drop against his chest and eyes close. "And it's not like I don't get it, because I do. They're excited because this is why they're here and they want to see if they can get a feel. And I wouldn't necessarily mind if they just asked me first. Or, you know, listened when I told them she doesn't like moving for just anyone, and moving your hand around my belly like a bloody crystal ball isn’t gonna change that."

He laughed and shook his head. "She's a picky little stinker already,"

"More like she's Daddy's little princess already!" She laughed, poking him in the chest to drive the point home.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "I think it's more that she's indecisive; never knows when she wants to be the center of attention. I mean, she can't pick favorites when she's still baking,”

She looked up at him with a raised brow of her own. "Can't she, though?" She said before letting her head drop again, raising one arm to point at the crowd through the sliding glass door. "All those other people were poking and rubbing and patting my belly and she doesn't do a thing! She doesn't turn, she doesn't kick, nothing! The minute I came out here and started to talk with you, though? Now she's kicking around like I chugged two cups of coffee!"

"Really?" He asked skeptically.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed his other hand, placing it against the left side of her stomach, and waiting. Under his hand he could feel the distinct shape of a little foot under his palm. "You feel that? That is all for you. She wouldn't kick for me, Mom, Dad, Krolia, nobody else! She's gonna be your little shadow once she comes out, I just know it," She hummed softly. There was a halt in movement under his hands.

“She really didn’t kick at all before?” He asked, words trailing a bit when the kicking started back up the minute he spoke.

“What did I just say?” She sang, tone filled with self-satisfaction.

Keith chuckled a bit, gently moving his hand in soothing circles where the baby had been kicking. "She's really having a blast kicking you right now, isn't she?"

"I swear she's going in timeout the minute she's born. We do not hit in this family," She said, plastering on a fake scowl and no-nonsense tone.

"You can't punish an infant for what they do in the womb," He laughed.

"Fine," She said with an exaggerated sigh. She then gave her belly a small pat on the other side. "You hear that, missy? Daddy bailed you out of a hard sentence."

"Maybe she already knows I'm the reasonable one,"

"First, say that lie again and I'll make sure Baby Girl here learns all about your time with the Garrison. And the Red Lion. And the Blades. And your first year and a half with Black Lion. Second," She trailed, holding up a finger for each point, "it's more likely she can smell that you're going to be soft on her."

He choked on another laugh. "I don't think she can smell much of anything, so probably not,"

"Oh, you say that now, but once she's here? She's gonna have you wrapped around every single one of her chubby little fingers; betting you 20 buckaroos on it,” She said, closing her eyes again and relaxing a bit more.

And, a few weeks later, when little Amber Rose Kogane was there, in his arms, he resigned himself to shelling out a cool 20 to his wife.

#Voltron legendary defender #Keidge #Kidge #Peith #Kidgemas #MonthofKidge #MonthofKidge2019 #KidgeaPalooza #KidgeaPalooza2019 #Pidge Gunderson #Keith Kogane #my fics #The title is a joke #Because ducks and geese are known to waddle

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harrylovesteas · 5 years

Text

Rose Bush

Hey guys, I’ve never really posted my personal fics on Tumblr before. But, I am giving it a shot. I haven't written in so long, so please let me know if you like it or any type of feedback! You can also find this fic on my wattpad, @harrylovesteas on there I will probably edit it more, but you guys will definitely get more previews. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this. it has kind of taken serval hours from me over the last week.

warnings: swearing, mentioning of homophobia, fluff? I think that’s it!

Life is always a mystery. You never know what you’ll get when it comes to life in reality. If you’re lucky, you’ll know exactly what you want to do with your life before life has the chance to royally fuck you up. However, most aren’t that lucky. Most are the indecisive people who just are going through this roller coaster with blindfolds, with no idea what’s coming next. Yet, a roller coaster isn’t the correct this type of life. In more ways, it feels as though life is just a foggy black and white haze until something adds color.

Perhaps that’s why so many people prefer books and stories of fiction, it’s a way to escape the uncertainty of life itself, a way to pretend that everything is actually indeed ‘fine’. At least that’s how Aurora felt about it at least. Her books and music were her safe haven. With a good book in hand and her music playing, the world would just pause, even if it was for only thirty minutes, it was an escape. Perhaps it was the flow of the words that caused the young adult to feel free. Or perhaps it had to do with the fact that each character had a unique story and lesson to share. No matter the reasoning, the brunette nearly always had a book on her. Of course, she couldn’t always carry a physical book on her person, but who needed to when smartphones could give you everything you could ever need.

Although books provide the girl with a blissful escape, it was also those same books that had made her content with the lack of social life since she had moved to the wet nation known as Britain. Being an American, she had very little knowledge of what to expect. After all, most of her knowledge of the country came from the television show Skins along with the Harry Potter series. But, with her very stubborn and rather particular grandmother’s passing, the young twenty-one-year-old had been gifted not only the full inheritance, but her grandmother’s cottage of sorts however to receive both items the girl would have to move to England. Sure, the older woman had adored her granddaughter, however Aurora suspected the will was just a final lesson, that Catherine could give her children on her death bed, what way could she punish money hungry children besides not giving them more than a final word of advice and a dime for the amount of times that they had tried to reach out in her old age. Compared to her bright-eyed granddaughter who tried to call every other week just to speak of schooling or of a novel she was reading. Although, being a college student was not easy by any means yet it was no one’s fault but her own for changing her major twice. Her mess, her responsibility; how could she expect anyone to clean up her mess? Therefore, she had been balancing working part-time with being a full-time student. Her grandmother’s final gift to the young woman was something that Aurora had never anticipated; a chance to start over. With the home and money all put into her name, her family was not thrilled whatsoever, yet Aurora knew that she couldn’t disappoint the one person who listened about the stories she had been reading. So, the girl moved from the small town she was raised in and essentially moved crossed the world. Fully knowing from that moment her family could potentially outcast her.

Holmes Chapel, the town in which the well known Harry Styles grew up. The town isn’t necessarily smaller or bigger than the small town Aurora grew up in back in America, yet there was something about the British people that made this place feel so much more knitted together. At least in the neighborhood, her grandmother had lived in seemed so close to give the illusion that each person in some way or another were like family to one another. It’s no secret back home that if a young university student had moved into a residential neighborhood, some residents would complain and assume their nice quiet neighborhood would be turned into a loud obnoxious party house lowering their property values; yet here not even an hour after her cab had dropped her off at the royal blue medium sized home with the white wrap around porch that the swing next to the dark wooden door, a few neighbors had greeted her an apologized for her loss. It felt bewildering to the girl, who was always taught that it was best to keep some distance between yourself and neighbors. It simply was the way to resume privacy, but in more ways than one it was a form of isolation and nothing more. It was a way that helped build rumors, cliques, and forms judgment precursors that overtime cause unnecessary tensions over a shrub or a little fence. Looking back at the do’s and don’t of the pompous life that her family had created seemed rather ridiculous now. If one were to hide away in a house with no communication with neighbors, your just another robot living the social media life, everything looks perfect on the outside, while behind closed doors everything is falling to pieces with a blood-curdling scream. Besides, if no one is allowed or good enough to be in your life, what’s the point of human contact? Perhaps, that is why so many people are always so miserable, it would be exhausting to constantly be something you weren’t. Aurora knew that all too well for her young age, but as much as she hated to admit it, she almost did not know not how to ‘fake it until she made it’. After all that was a concept that she had learned from such a young age, girls were to smile and to be what was expected of them. Yet, with a sense of the rest button being hit in her life, the brunette finally could be who she had always wanted, and no one could force her to be anything else different.

By the exterior of the home, the house appeared to be well kept and with perfect order. Some of the plants were overgrown and dead, yet with the winter chill and slight dusting coat of snow, the demise of the plants made sense truly. It still appeared to look perfectly in order. Even when you initially enter the home everything looks as if it has a particular order. The walls are coated in what looks to be fresh grey paint and select a few picture frames to decorate the home as though only a few of the innocent moments in deserved to be relived. A black fireplace captured the living room with one swallow, with no television, and all the soft white fabric sofas angling around the fire provided a feeling of close intimacy to those who had been welcomed into the humble abode. Along the entryway of the home remained to be one of the things Aurora had always wanted in a home, a window seat, or as she called it, ‘the most profit spot to read as it rained outside’. As she stood smiling at the cushioned window, the girl could almost already hear the rain pelting against the glass cooling the world around her down as she melted away into a fantasy. Pulling herself out of her daydream, the women tossed her jean jacket on to the rocking chair closest to the black marble fireplace, while her luggage remained by the front door. Although she had sworn to break her bad habits, Aurora knew all too well she probably wouldn’t unpack right away. But, how could she unpack when she still had to explore the large house?

For what felt like hours the five foot and three inches female wandered the home, first she had discovered the kitchen, arguably the most important room of the whole house. It was brighter than the living room, and somewhat expectedly the room was coated in a ray of soft sunshine yellow and the white marble had such a large contrast to the living room that she truly did not know what to expect. She could remember her grandmother telling her that one should not decorate to please people, but decorated from to please soul because if one did this then you’d always feel at home no matter who is around. As she roamed further into the home she had found the half bath, guest bathroom, and guest room which were all various shades of creams to grey. Each room regardless of the paint of the walls had a bright burst of color which shouted at life and yet had something relaxing laced together with it as well.

Her soft white shocks made no noise as she took slow and gentle steps towards the final door, which the girl presumed to be the master bedroom. Taking in a large intake of hair, the girl with the messy brown hair rested her forehead against the white door. Finding some courage, her hand grasped the doorknob before carefully pushing the door into the room. Her caramel brown eyes grew to the size of saucers at the sight before her. This was nothing that she had expected for the room to look like, after all the last time she had FaceTime with her grandmother, this room had been painted a shade of bright red and covered with lace. Now, however, the walls were white as snow. The fan that used to be over the bed was now replaced with a glass chandler. In the corner next to the walking closet was a black chair swing, the walk-in closet had been replaced by full-length mirrors, a lovely black vanity with royal blue fuzzy rug remained near the window. In the center of it all had been a king size bed, with royal blue and black silk bedding, as if her grandmother had remembered exactly what colors had been her favorites. One of the most eye-catching parts of the room at to be the secret draws within the bed frame perfect for storing her books. Along the side of the bed on both sides remained two nightstands with silver lamps to back the glass table decor. Tip-Toeing to the master bathroom, Aurora held her breath fearing that she’d wake up and this would all be a dream.

The master bathroom seemingly matched perfectly to the bedroom’s aesthetic. The walls remained white with black and silver accents along with each piece of furniture, The royal blue was not forgotten as it was the exact shade of the towels and rugs. There was something about the color scheme that gave the women a sense of elegance laced together with relaxation. The cool ceramic flooring cooled the bottom of her feet through her socks as she took in each aspect of the large bathroom. The home was a true dream, and something gave off a feeling she could not quite describe. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have said the home had been completely decorated to meet her preference. However, if this truly was the case, why had she been lead to believe that her grandmother had passed away in a freak accident? There had been so many unknowns regarding the whole situation, for example, why had her grandmother’s medical file been sealed? What type of family secrets was lingering within the family still?

Starring lazily at the empty black bath, the girl vividly recalled the funeral two weeks prior, and how strange everyone had been acting. From the moment that the family had been alerted of Catherine’s death, so many peculiar behaviors started popping up. It all had started with how her parents demanded that she come home while they had to start planning on how to get her from England back to the United States of America. During a family death, perhaps it was normal to have the whole family come home, however that implied that she had a normal family. But, she didn’t, her family were the type of people who would miss birthdays, holidays, and anniversaries. Nothing was sacred and if there was an opportunity to further the depth of one’s pockets, typically that route would have been taken. There were so many times that she could vividly recall family dinners and parties being canceled, due to someone needing to go prep for another surgery or court case. So, having everyone and the same household until the funeral was beyond strange. Perhaps, thinking that they were all grieving of shorts, the brunette packed her bag and drove the five hours along the interstate to come home to the small town that had the house on the hill.

Upon her arrival home, Aurora noted the large rain clouds threatening to unleash the built up rain. The clean air had been a smell that she had missed dearly, seeing as in the city in which she now lived in smelt of car’s exhaust, but at the family manner, the scent of pine trees and the lake filled the atmosphere. With the impending rain clouds, the air slowly started to have a more of a lake scent than normal, which signaled that the storm would be one what would be one of destruction. The large unwelcoming brown door of the castle-like home remained unchanged from what she had remembered. Building up her courage, the college student chewed on her lip, before grabbing her phone and backpack.

Knots formed heavily within her stomach with each step towards the large unwelcoming door frame. Her long brown curly hair blew back in the stormy wind, sending a chill through her spine. Pulling her black cardigan over her black skinny jeans and Aerosmith faded concert t-shirt, the girl pushed the door open fully knowing that she would fully be ridiculed for her choice in clothing regardless of the lack of people in the home. Entering the threshold once again was exactly what Aurora had expected. The home still was uncannily cold and the overpowering scent of the lilacs that undoubtedly decorated every corner of the manor. The old aged rugs remained over the wooden floors as if they truly prevented the original wood floors from harsh bursts of the seasonal weather. Yet, it is nearly impossible to break the family out of its traditional ways. Perhaps that was why Catherine had disappeared off the face of the earth for a full year only to find out she was living a new life across the pond as if the life surrounded by statuses whom only cared about how many green faces lined their Gucci suits. At least, that was what Aurora suspected, and for that, she couldn’t fault her Grandmother. To spend so many years with the heartlessness and cold atmosphere, one still craving life and hope desperately would want to be freed from that prison.

Right on cue, the sounds of bickering filled the long dreary hall. Exhaling her final piece of peace, the girl dropped her bag down next to the long extravagant staircase. Tucking her hair behind her ears Aurora began her way towards the loud voices whining and complaining down the house. By the sound of the voices, she had been able to pick out her father’s and Uncle Jon’s voice, along with Alana, Jon’s gold-digging wife. Although she could not identify any other voices, Aurora knew all too well that this world war three most likely had a few unsettling viewers. Turning the corner, the small crowd came into focus. Mentally, she had patted herself on the back for correctly identifying her uncle, aunt, and father, yet it was seeing the ‘family disappointment ‘ her father’s sister and her small family did confuse her completely. She could have never expected to see her aunt Scarlett, who was nearly blacklisted from every family event due to her decision of leaving the family practice of lawyers and doctors to open up a little cafe with her secret girlfriend and her eighteen-year-old son. Jon and her father swore that Scarlett’s sexuality had nothing to do with the lack of appearances at family functions, yet Scarlett hadn’t come out until midway through the ten years of Catherine’s leave. Suddenly after, her aunt seemingly was removed from any pictures and no longer attended any type of holiday. For a group of Christians and Catholics who claim to believe in God’s love, they sure did like to criticize different people and place themselves above others… It truly made no sense to Aurora, weren’t they suppose to love everyone?

With a relieved smile, the youngest female approached her favorite aunt, “I’ve really missed you,” she whispered while engulfing her into an enduring hug full of honesty. From her aunt to Susan and Brandon, Scarlett’s now wife and adopted son, welcoming them with a warm hug knowing well that Alana was continuing to scoff and make remarks regarding the will.

“Aurora, why are you wearing such hideous clothes? You have a much suitable wardrobe to wear, especially seeing as your grandmother’s lawyer is on the way, perhaps you should change, “ the nasal sounding woman suggested only gaining an eye roll from Susan.

“Alana, I’m so glad I was able to take a microbiology final, and then drive three hours to not only deal with my grandmother’s death but to be graced with your not wanted opinion. This may surprise you, but some people don’t automatically think about a will when they get a phone call of a family member’s death. Some us need time to digest the information and remember the individual, but apparently, most of this family disagrees and thinks that if we wait a week that all the money will be gone,” Aurora commented rather hastily bitterly due to the situation of events. For a second, the girl regretted her harsh words, yet she acted it down with the rest of her emotions. After all, if you showed weakness around a pack of wolves, you wouldn’t see the light of day ever again. It was the situations like this, it always was best to wear defensive comments like armor. It was something that she had hated most about this place, she hated having to walk around on thin ice waiting for an argument. At least at school, one wouldn’t have to worry about appearances as much or being treated as an object rather than a person. Back on campus, Aurora could recall several times seeing students in pajamas, or even professors only wearing jeans and the university sweatshirt. The university campus was judgment-free and she deeply missed it. But, there was nothing she could do about that now, she was officially in the wolves den full of wolves waiting and hoping to take a large chunk of the estates and money. Little did anyone realize, by rushing this reading of the will everyone’s lives were about to be changed.

It was the faint knocking sound that had pulled Aurora out of her trance-like state. Blinking away all the thoughts and memories haunting her large caramel brown eyes, the woman eyes snapped and looked directly into the mirror above the marble sink. She had to admit, she did look fairly rough considering for the last two weeks she had been wearing full face makeup, but that didn’t necessarily mean she looked terrible considering the situation. Her hair was slightly messy from having the windows down the cab, but she had straightened the curly hair before the flight so she wouldn’t look like a complete mess if she fell asleep on the plane, her eyebrows held their natural shape without the colored filler, her eyes had been bloodshot and sad, her olive skin showed it’s imperfections yet it had a healthy glow from being moisturized daily along with being washed. Her black tank top matched with her comfortable Addis joggers, but that was just it, she didn’t stick out. Yes, she did have nice curves, but she wasn’t necessarily anything more than average. She definitely wasn’t beyond beautiful in her book. She wasn’t taller than 5’3, she didn’t have sapphires for eyes, her teeth weren’t perfectly white, and she wasn’t a blonde. She was only Aurora Elizabeth Wilde, she was average and came from old money, that was how she had been described since puberty, but that hadn’t meant that it couldn’t change now that she had moved so far away. Perhaps here she could be an actual person rather than someone who comes from money. Once again, the knocking filled the house. Realizing that she had temporarily forgotten about the door, the girl spun on her heels and quickly sprinted towards the front door knowing that the weather app had called for rain in the evening.

Being as clumsy as she was it didn’t take long for the brunette to accidentally shoulder check the corner wall closet to the front down. “For fuck sake Rori,” she muttered grumpily as a strong shot of pain radiated from her shoulder and seeing as it was her own fault she couldn’t be mad at anyone but herself. Rubbing circles around her potentially bruised flesh. Not bothering to look through the peephole, the girl swung the door open realizing that she probably shouldn’t just open the door so quickly to strangers, but she felt as though she had been shot, therefore logic was not present at the moment. With furrowed brows, she looked at the people before her. One of the ladies looked maybe in her late forties with the kindest smile and eyes she had ever seen with a nice sundress and her hair pulled up. The other woman had similar bright eyes, dark eyes and had been wearing an old concert t-shirt and jeans. By the looks of it, she had a strong feeling that they were, in fact, mother and daughter, but there was. Something about the duo that caused the woman to sense that she had known them from somewhere.

“Hello, I’m Anne and this is my daughter Gemma. We just wanted to introduce ourselves, I live right across the street,” the first woman explained sensing Aurora’s curiosity, “Gem had noticed the master bedroom’s light on and we wanted to finally see the face of whom Catherine often spoke of.”

Not wanting to be rude, Aurora kept eye contact with the older woman as Anne spoke. “It’s nice to meet you both, I’m Aurora,” she responded shaking their hands politely. “If it’s not a bother, do you mind suggesting some places that have good food around here? Earlier when I was exploring the house I was struggling to find food to cook, it was weird, I fully expected to find an unworldly amount of pasta noodles and sauce to make,” she had commented with a soft laugh while rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly.

“Catherine always did put things in strange places if you’d like me to show you? One of the last times I was over here we helped her cook, and just everything was in strange places,” Gemma offered.

“I would really appreciate that, if you don’t mind, of course,” the American commented as she moved over allowing the women into her new home of sorts. In which the girl around her age entered in the house.

“Silly me, I forgot the spare key and plant I was meaning on bringing over here! I’ll be right back ladies, Gemma message me if you need anything from home.” With the final comment from Anne, the older woman turned rather swiftly and made her way a crossed the street to the house Aurora assumed was hers.

Softly the brunette shut the front door and followed Gemma towards the kitchen. “Did you grow up here,” Aurora questioned attempting to create small talk between the two of them.

“Yeah, my mum, my brother and I just about all grew up here. It’s not the biggest town, but I personally love it here. But, I might be a little bias, London is nice as well. I live there now, but nowhere is like home, you know?”

“I’ve never left the states besides this, so I kind of get it. I’m not going to lie, it’s a lot different here compared to there. But, I'm definitely loving Holmes Chapel’s charm. Everyone I’ve met so far is super kind,” Aurora confessed trying not to flat out say she was glad to be away from her spiteful family for good.

Reaching the colorful kitchen, Aurora kept close to Gemma as if she feared that the ingredients were in plain sight, in which she would already appear to be a proper idiot. Crouching down next to the stove, Gemma’s soft brown eyes met Aurora’s and a small smile crept along with the British’s facial features. Opening the cabinet’s door, her eyes remained on Aurora before she giggled and spoke, “who puts bloody pasta noodles by the stove? There should be some jarred pasta sauce on the other side of the stove.”

Moving to the instructed location Aurora’s eyebrows went up quizzically, but opening it nonetheless opened the cabinet door and took a peak in. Sure enough, there was the pasta sauce and random bottles of wine. With a small shake of the head Aurora muttered in a playful tone, “she must have been madder than I remember.” Standing back up with the sauce and a bottle of wine, she sat the items on the countertop. “If you and your mom don’t have dinner plans, you’d be more than welcomed to join me. I haven’t cooked for only myself in what feels like ages, and maybe you can help me find whatever else that crazy American hid.”

“We’d love to just let me tell my mom to bring over the pie as well,” Gemma had responded while pulling out her phone sending a quick little message to her mom. “Now, where do you reckon she put the pots and wine glasses?”

***

Laughs echoed off of the walls of the living room, where the three women sat drinking their fair share of wine. Although Aurora had genuinely been nervous to really have the company so soon, she was glad she had opened the front door. Dinner had gone so smoothly, that it had seemed as though they had all knew each other for several years, or as if Aurora had been apart of the family for several years.

“I’m just saying Aurora should spend some time in London too, especially if she’s going back to school mum, I didn’t say I was going to kidnap her and never share her with you,” Gemma retorted trying to withhold a laugh.

“You better not even try it, Gemma, she is my new child who just happens to live only a road away. I am not losing all my children to London,” the mother spoke before sending a small wink to both of the girls.

Taking another sip of the white wine, Aurora simply surpassed the smile on her face. “You two are officially my favorite people in the world,” she stated truthfully before speaking again before the others could, “but on a serious note, I think maybe I’ll stay in Holmes Chapel until I’m settled in and comfortable with my surroundings. Then from there I’ll get a flat out in London for school, and come here for breaks and the weekends. I’m not too sure what the plan will be just yet.”

“That does sound like a good plan, love. London is quite big,” Anne had replied softly.

Hearing the supportiveness within Anne’s tone had Aurora feeling slightly envious. Was this the supportiveness she had been missing nearly her whole life? Was this what having a mother figure like? Were all mother’s like this? So many questioned clashed within her head as she processed how genuinely kind these people were.

Out of the corner of her eye, a black shine had caught Aurora’s attention. Slowly climbing off of the plush sofa, the girl sat her wine glass down on the side table before crawling over to what appeared to be a large box next to a record player. “Woah,” she murmured softly as she got close. Sitting in front of the record player the brunette began to pull out the records. “I had no idea my grandmother had all these,” Aurora trailed off feeling the eyes on her back.

“She didn’t,” Gemma had started gaining a small peak over the shoulder from Aurora, who then continued to go through the records in a daze, “they used to be my brother’s. Near the end, Cat knew how bad her medical condition was getting. Since she had known that she had wanted you to have the house, she started getting the house ready for you. She had my brother and I help plan the new color scheme. She wanted you to feel comfortable and happy. Anyways, one day we were talking about music because Cat kept saying that you needed to have a way to listen to music as you read or cooked. I had suggested a wireless speaker, but he went a little deeper with the question, and had asked what type of music you liked,”

“Yeah, I remember her calling me to ask what music I like, she sounded rushed, but I thought she was having a weird grandma moment that she just wanted to know how I was feeling,” Aurora elaborated slightly while looking up from the records.

“By the time I got back with the speaker, Harry had brought over his collection,” Gemma added.

“Tell your brother he has great taste in music, way better than most, but if he wants this all back, my feelings wouldn’t be hurt. I have no idea how he can part from Stevie Nicks, Aerosmith, or the Eagles,” Aurora said referencing some of the albums that she had already pulled out. With a small yawn, the girl slowly removed a vinyl from its case and carefully placed it on to a record player.

“Gem, we should go home, Aurora must be getting tired from her long day, and we are waking her up early tomorrow so we can all go to the bakery in the morning,” Anne commented softly while rising from her spot on the sofa.

Once she had gotten up from her spot, Anne encouragingly helped Gemma off the lazy boy before planting a friendly kiss on American’s forehead, “we’ll see you in the morning, yeah?”

“You’re going to regret saying you wanted to get breakfast when she wakes you up tomorrow, so try to get some rest,” Gemma instructed giving the sitting girl a hug.

By the time that both women had exited the house, Stevie’s legendary voice filled the house. Aurora had managed to force herself off of the floor to the lock the door. It wasn’t until she waved goodnight to her new neighbors that Aurora realized whom she had just spent the evening with. How had it been that she hadn’t made the connection sooner? It hadn’t changed her opinion on the women at all, and yet her younger directioner self was incredibly disappointed that she had met Harry Styles’ family and didn’t realize it. But, in more ways than one, she felt relieved that she hadn’t until their departure if she had then she may have felt the need to act more reserved than normal. At least they had met the real her as she had with them.

Yet, subconsciously she was trying hard to keep her cool, she had Harry Styles’ private vinyl collection. Was this actually real?

#Harry Styles #F: rose bush #harry styles imagine #one direction #one direction imagines #louis tomlinson #louis tomlinson imagine #liam payne #liam payne imagine #niall horan #niall horan imagine

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bluehhj · 5 years

Text

listen to me — chapter 39

LISTEN TO ME — 0039

listen to me masterlist;

WORDS: 1.6K

Maybe Jisung would never get used to that particular part of loving someone.

Considering the tiredness of routine and the irrevocable stress that accompanied the approach of the much-feared week of tests, on normal days he wouldn't be willing to lose several minutes of sleep to get properly woken up in order to look prettier or at least presentable in front of Jinah. No, Jisung liked to get up right after the alarm clock and put on the first sweatpants he found, not caring about the look of his hair or the dark circles on his crumpled face. What was happening in recent months, however, was completely contrary to his conformity, and the living proof of this was his indecision in the mirror at the present moment. Was that jacket good? Or should he put on a sweater?

If examined closely, Jisung wasn't supposed to be having such a dilemma at this point in the championship, since Jinah must have seen his poor personality from every possible angle when they were still getting to know each other, but things changed a lot suddenly and the feeling of being close always seemed to be the first time. Moreover, Jisung strongly believed that the days passed and Jinah managed to get even more beautiful — maybe it was just an illusion of his passionate heart, maybe not —; so the idea of taking better care of himself seemed far more logical and tempting.

Finally, as stated earlier, Jisung, while giving himself to new conceptions, would never get used to it.

Seeing that time had gone too fast on his watch, Han gave up staring at his own reflection and preferred to avoid an unnecessary delay for the first class that morning. He, then, disconnected his phone from the charger and slung his small backpack over his shoulder, heading for the bedroom door shortly thereafter. But when Jisung opened it, a startled scream erupted from his throat with the speed of a rocket.

One other thing he would never get used to: his mother in a bathrobe, wandering down the hall with a green mask on her face, an Avengers mug in one hand, and a phone in the other.

— "Boy!" — Hyoyeon ended up screaming too, as scared as her son. — "Don't look at me like I'm an alien, this cream is worth more than your kidney!"

— "Sometimes I forget that you're here" — Jisung justified himself with one hand on his heart. — "Even more like this, looking like an avocado."

— "Aish, you redneck!" — Hyoyeon was outraged. She had not spent a fortune on that tiny pot to be compared to an insignificant fruit. Too bad Jisung was too old to be slapped and she can't make sudden movements without the mask melting from her nose. — "I was going to tell you something important, but now I won't anymore."

— "Ok, see you later."

— "Wait a second!" — she contradicted herself as he walked straight down the corridor. Jisung almost smiled before turning to face her again. — "I was talking to your aunt, Sooyoung, just now." — Hyoyeon held up her phone. — "She was so happy to know that I'm going to spend a few days in the city that she even invited us to dinner, so I thought you could call your girlfriend to go too, what do you think? So I can meet her properly and, considering you have said she doesn't like very refined environments, my sister's house looks perfect to me."

Jisung didn't need to ponder too much. Sooyoung was a sweetheart — she didn't even seem to carry the same blood as his mother — and, by the way, cooked wonderfully. She lived alone in an extremely quiet and pleasant neighborhood, far away from the chaos of busy and noisy boulevards, so maybe Hyoyeon was right and that really was a perfect option.

— "When?"

— "This Thursday, at eight."

— "Okay."

— "Hey, aren't you going to have breakfast?" — she called him back when he turned his back a second time and opened the door.

— "Not now."

— "But, Jisung-..." — her opposition was cut before half.

— "Bye, mom," — and he left, prompting Hyoyeon to roll her eyes and drink some of her tea, alone.

They grow too fast.

♡˖°

Jisung and Jinah were in the library; the boy because his last class before break was over earlier, and the girl because she would face anything not to keep listening to the zucchinis of her hated rude professor, Dr. Kim. Maybe dropping out of review classes would get Jinah screwed up in the upcoming exam week, but at that moment, Choi just wanted to take a walk, and it was on one of those twists and turns that she found her boyfriend studying at one of the quiet round tables and seriously considered whether to bother him or not. Her mind was, then, split between three lines of reasoning: 'Someone has to be smart in this relationship, let it be him', 'but I should study too, soon I have to write a term paper' and 'fuck, I just wanted to kiss him!' Choi Jinah being solely responsible for her decisions, it was to be expected which of the three ideas she would listen to most.

— "It's not allowed to do this in here," — Jisung whispered, noting that talking in the library was not allowed, nor making out at one of the tables farthest from the security cameras. His eyes went to the supervisors who were seated near the entrance every five seconds, fearing that someone would notice their proximity. — "One time Woojin hyung came to kiss someone here and got caught. I learned he could only come back after paying a fine."

— "Really?" — Jinah whispered back and kissed Jisung's lips again, calmly. — "I didn't even know."

— "You don't mind either, do you?"

— "Guess it."

Jisung wanted to have at least shot Jinah a scolding look, but his reason lived up to his emotion whenever he was so close to the girl; soon, moved by his little sense of mind, Han got up, took her by the hand, and quietly placed them in a small room that contained only one table and was intended for people who needed extreme concentration to study or do some work. The door had no key, but just keeping it locked was a thousand times better than being completely in public.

— "Hmmm, look at this" — as you might imagine, Jinah crossed her arms and smiled lewdly. — "For someone who were worried about a fine of nothing, you look pretty excited right now, Mr. Han."

Jisung rolled his eyes and sat down in one of the chairs: — "I'm not pretty excited, I just don't trust you."

— "I actually don't think you trust yourself" — Jinah approached slowly, and it was instinctive for the boy to look through the skirt the girl wore (in his defense, Jisung believed that the fabric looked too sexy for an academic environment, so it caught his attention). — "You could have just told me to stop kissing you, not bring me here."

— "But I told you!"

— "Told and kept kissing me back" — was Jinah who rolled her eyes this time. — "I thought you had more dignity, honestly."

— "I was quiet, studying, you who came out of nowhere."

— "Are you going to say you didn't miss me?"

— "No." — lied Jisung.

— "Ah..." — Jinah suddenly withered, her red lips pouting with disappointment as her eyes stared at the floor. — "But I missed you."

Han had once read on a curiosity site that when we see something cute, an instinct for aggression is immediately triggered by our brains, so we feel like squeezing and kneading something. Maybe that explained the sudden way he stood up and hugged his girlfriend like she was a teddy bear.

— "You're suffocating me!" — Jinah said among a series of laughs that infected Jisung as well. — "Babe, I'm serious! It tickles!"

Han stopped, but only so that he could kiss her properly. Their mouths had been together for so many minutes that, this time, Jinah didn't even find gaps to complain about neediness, and Jisung only stopped when his jaw started to ache and the lack of oxygen became unsustainable.

— "Wow," — Choi gasped, bewildered. Her swollen lips, disheveled hair and rapidly rising and falling chest proved that Jisung's ability to pull her out of orbit was real and very solid. — "That's because you didn't even miss me," — she joked.

— "Just a little," — Han joked, stole another peck from the girl's lips, and remembered something important. — "Are you going to do something after tomorrow?"

— "In the evening?"

— "Uh huh"

— "I don't think so." — Jinah frowned, mentally going over her Thursday business and coming to the conclusion that her schedule was almost as empty as her stock of strawberry candies. — "Why?"

— "My mom wants to talk to you."

— "Oh my Lord" — Jinah broke away from Jisung. It was amazing how seven words could make her tense. — "I don't like that phrase."

— "But I told you she adored you."

— "Because I barely opened my mouth that day, now it's different."

— "She also keeps talking shit, you two will get along," — Jisung insisted. — "My aunt has volunteered to make dinner, so if you don't want to go for the responsibility, at least go for the food."

— "As long as it's not those snails Yugyeom served at his party, you started speaking my language."

— "I swear it isn't, my aunt is fitness."

— "Okay," — though nervous and a little suspicious, Jinah smiled. — "Now you can kiss me again, I've recovered."

Maybe Jisung would lose not only his precious study time, but the minutes of the break as well. Anyway, it was for a good cause, and he couldn't be bothered at all. Priorities.

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chiclet-go-boom · 5 years

Text

fracture: control

It’s the oddest thought to have, but standing in the empty, echoing cavern of space where his master’s presence was largest and deepest, he finds he mostly misses the certainty.

As if anyone could ever have accused him of being certain of anything. His entire life seems plagued by indecision and three steps one way and two steps another, and all of it a shifting spiral that would make no sense to the outside eye. He’s not even sure it always makes sense to him, even as he stands in the middle and holds the web of it.

He at least knows what he wants. That hasn’t changed no matter what else has.

He looks up at the high viewport that spills ancient starlight onto the dark floor and the dais above and finds himself caressing the memories that live here. They’re certainly thick enough on the ground to be their own shadows at this point; pain and blood and scorched flesh, lacerated thoughts, shredded intentions. The worst of them are his but by no means all. Oh, by no means all.

Behind him the door slides open and rapid footsteps approach. The sharp sound echoes, boots as shiny as blades ringing true on the walkway. He half looks over his shoulder before turning back to the contemplation of emptiness. Alone, as he’d expected. No one ever came here except by express order and he’d counted on it, had chosen this place for it and it’s nice to know he’s made no errors with that at least.

When the entry closes and the light cuts off, he extends his awareness and force locks the door with a whisper. A moment later the ringing steps stop as the other reaches his shoulder. Military. Precise. Not continuing forward any more than he has, a mindful distance away from the first of the risers that lead upward to a platform that now holds nothing.

This was as close as either of them were ever permitted when his master was alive. Habit, he’s noted, is hard to break. It will serve him now.

“General Hux,” he acknowledges. The modulator on his new mask rumbles in the air.

“Supreme Leader.”

Anger slices but he’d expected it so it passes by. A title made of nothing, floating as it is with the contempt sliding under every syllable like oil.

“Yes,” he agrees. He clasps his hands behind his back, keeps his masked gaze fixed ahead which of course means that Hux must as well in case there is something there to look at. “You are wondering why I summoned you here.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader.” A tilted head, a lift of pale eyebrow in a polite question. “You have orders for me?”

“No. I am trying to decide whether to kill you where you stand.”

It’s to Hux’s credit that he doesn’t even flinch. He doesn’t even go for the blaster at his side. “I am loyal, always, to the First Order and to you, Supreme Leader.” The thin man turns to him, goes down to one knee on the black floor as he has done so many times before, his black uniform glinting in silver points. His head is bowed as is appropriate, conveniently hiding his eyes. It is perfect camouflage, not the least of which is because it’s so familiar. In this place, only his hair has color. “You cannot question my commitment to our glorious cause.”

“I question everything.”

“Lord Ren, I will not fail you.”

“You will.” He looks down and lets the potential in the moment swirl without resolution. The back of Hux’s neck is exposed, a mere fingerlength but the pale skin is tempting in its vulnerability. “Snoke kept you because he gave you what you wanted; command of his armies and the instruction to use them as you saw fit. You aren’t sure I can give you the same thing and treachery bleeds from you like smoke.”

He reaches out before Hux can reply, curling his fingers. He grabs the surface of thought, freezing it in place without disturbing the layers below. He’s not interested in whatever Hux has planned, has thought about planning, whatever he has probably already set in motion. He hears the man swallow, a tiny noise against the silence and he tightens the pressure, locking muscle to bone.

Kylo tilts his head, knowing what it will look like. In the audience chamber he is black on black, half consumed by shadows. The fact that the effect is intentional does not make it any less instructional.

Hux has made the first mistake by coming alone, the second by not treating this seriously enough in the opening moments. As if he expects Ren to still be under his master’s thumb, that correction will lash out from a space that is uninhabited. A habit of thought that has betrayed him, the very pattern of it soaked into this room.

“You are not my equal and you never will be.” He prods sharply, inflicting a sliver of pain. Considering the shrieking torture that has happened before in this exact spot, it’s nothing and they both know it. A reminder only and he soothes it, a stroke of absolution to ease it away and at that Hux flinches. Better.

He starts to walk slowly around the man frozen in a position of subservience as if he’s contemplating an animal for sale in the market. “You think that you can command the First Order without me and you are wrong. You think that they will be loyal to you alone and you are wrong. You think you know my weaknesses and you despise them, because you saw them all exposed right here, where we stand now.” Anger surges in a red, sickening wave and he has to take a breath, another, to channel it. “My master punished me for every one of the failings he built into me and it pleased him to do so while you watched. You saw me ripped apart and you pitied me for it. Relieved each time that it wasn’t you bleeding on this floor.”

He can see the line of sweat starting, the tension in the man’s shoulders as he keeps walking until he’s out of Hux’s peripheral vision, at his unprotected back.

“I am here to show you the error of your assumptions.”

“Supreme Leader, I assure you…”

He steps forward and grabs a fistful of hair, yanking the man’s head back. There’s a thin whine, quickly cut off. He contemplates the exposed throat, the thin press of lips, the emanating emotions that are finally starting to slip from wariness to fear. Better.

“You assure me of nothing. You have failed to appreciate the teachings of the dark side. You believe in order. In technology.” He steps forward, his legs flush now against Hux’s back, pulling the man’s head to the side to bare the pulsing carotid artery. A green eye rolls in its socket and there is a spike of sudden terror, hard and unexpected. Oh no, Hux is not liking this at all. Did he truly think himself invulnerable behind his title, his previous place, with Kylo too weak to attack it?

He tightens his grip to keep himself from doing anything worse. He still hasn’t decided. “You believe in your training program, your soldiers that, as it turns out, can desert you. The things you build and the things you use. I will instruct you where your true allegiance should lie.” He raises his other hand, fingers starting to flex.

“Lord Ren, if you will.” The voice is a croak. “If I may speak?”

So close. He sinks deeper into the mind panicking below his twisted fingers. Almost there. “Yes.”

“I swear. I swear to serve you faithfully, Supreme Leader, this is my purpose. My life’s work. I believe in the First Order, the enlightenment we will bring to the galaxy. To free it of chaos, to give it the direction it needs under your guidance. I believe in all that we do. You cannot doubt me.”

“I am used to doubting, General Hux.” He leans down, letting his mask dominate the other man’s field of vision. Almost there. “Snoke acted as if every move he made, every wish he expressed was immutable law, carefully thought out and planned for. His plans did not save him. His guards did not save him. My presence did not save him. He died on his throne, struck down by a slip of a girl he thought he controlled. I am not going to make that mistake.”

Hux closes his eyes and his adam’s apple bobs. “Ren. Please. Please.” He doesn’t want to beg, not even for his life and the shame and fury of it spreads like a stain, rippling outwards.

Kylo takes it and shoves, pushing the terror and humiliation as far down as he can into the mind below him, forcing it into compliance. Hux stiffens under the psychic assault, near choking in reaction. His back tries to arch, pushing himself backwards only to be stopped hard against Ren’s body.

It’s nearly beautiful, this moment.

Finally, with reluctance, Kylo unknots his fingers from their grip in the man’s hair. Strokes it instead. Hux stares up, his eyes so wide there is only white around them.

“I am not going to bribe you, as Snoke did. I have no intention of catering to you. You will serve because you want to, because your ambition will accept no lesser place and you will serve me because you have no choice.” He keeps his voice flat, letting the rumble of it spread out into darkness. “I will bend your mind, shape your flesh, carve your bones to the very marrow and you will fear me more than you feared even your father because I’ll do it with no plan in mind at all. I am outside of your precious order.”

“Supreme Leader.”

“You think you know me. You know only what I can do with a master riding my will.” He strokes that bright hair again, sliding against the mind below it.

“I swear to serve faithfully, Lord Ren.”

“You will. Because if you are not very, very careful, you are going to find out exactly what I am capable of without a leash.”

There is a fervency rising in the other man’s eyes, a sheen that could be tears, could be something else entirely. He inspects the damage he has caused. It’s brutal. It could work. He leans in even closer, mask nearly brushing the upturned face.

“The chaos you have despised in me is what will bring us victory. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes. Yes, Supreme Leader.”

There is no oil under the words now. It isn’t exactly respect yet either, but it could be close enough to suit and the rest can come. Hux’s head is resting against his thigh and he can feel the gasping breaths the General is trying to take.

Is this certainty? Does he trust in this? He cannot fight Hux for every step they take going forward and the urge to do violent harm is always so very close to his heart. Snoke’s way.

But Snoke is dead.

“Then today you can live.”

He lets go of his hold and steps back to let the other man collapse to the ground.

“I have recalled the Knights of Ren. See to it that their quarters are ready.”

He turns and walks away before he can second guess this decision, as he second guesses all the others.

#star wars #the last jedi #kylo ren #reylo #fanfiction #fracture

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lordshaxx · 6 years

Text

the one-horned speaker

the visions had become clearer shortly after cayde died and, for the longest time, shaxx kept them to himself. the traveler never bothered with him and he has things to do ----- gates to keep and taken to banish; his loyalties had been split in half, dedication questioned by either side as innocents died and all he could do was watch with a sorrowful gaze. his strength has barely climbed to half of what it was back in the distributary -- shackled by darkness yet growing back quickly due to an awakened traveler.

he knew it would only be a matter of time before the consensus grew desperate and, in the wake of their indecisiveness and bias, ran out of candidates to vote for to replace the speaker. the traveler’s chosen -- that blessed guardian -- had gone mad with rage, their anger only tempered briefly by the deaths of uldren and his barons though now consumed with an addictive need to purge the dreaming city of its curse. played right into mara’s hands.

zavala and ikora were shattered upon their grief ----- ikora melting into a rage just barely shy of bursting from its perfectly wrapped package she had tucked away in her heart. zavala drew further into himself, forced his gaze inward and closer to the city -- guilt gnaws at the both of them and with their image of unification broken, they fell quickly from the consensus’s eyes.

there’s a brief moment of consideration toward lord saladin and osiris both but they had been brushed away quickly. saladin no longer had a penchant to lead, no longer had that fire, and osiris... well, he’s osiris -- power fallen from grace of the city’s favor.

and so, all eyes turn to the one authority figure barely holding a group of crazed and grief-stricken immortals together. he voices soft sorrow to the fall of a dear friend but his grip around order remains tight, even as he momentarily disappears to the dreaming city. if only to restore guardian order there when they grow out of petra’s control.

the gatekeeper of two great cities. secret confidant of mara sov. hero of twilight gap, six fronts-- hell, even the red war. a man who laughs at death as he breaks its arm. the last man standing. there’s not many others they can consider, not many still living or willing enough with his kinds of credentials.

he sees the question before it falls from the consensus member’s -- arctur han, he thinks, he forgot immediately after he was told -- mouth, but it doesn’t stop him from letting out a ridiculous scoff as he turns to look out the broad window in his barely-used office. his view faces the city, he likes having the traveler in view, seeing it pulse softly with renewed energy. tonight, it does little to soothe the spike of irritation? annoyance? no he doesn’t know what he feels. it’s not familiar.

“ that’s not a question, ” he says as he finally turns around to look at the dully robed mortals. there’s a flicker of fear that seems to pass through arctur’s gaze and shaxx can’t help the slight smirk that forms beneath his helm. “ i was wondering how long it would take you bumbling fools to come to a decision. ”

“ w-well, s-s-sir-- ” shaxx holds his hand up, effectively silencing the nervous stuttering before it can really begin.

“ don’t bother. i’ve been to too many of those inane meetings to know how it works. functions like a stuttering clock on its last legs if you ask me, ” the last part is a grumble as he walks over to his desk, placing his hands flat on the mahogany top. he leans forward, bracing his weight on his hands, making the wood creak uncertainly as arctur and his companions shift nervously, fidgeting more the further shaxx leans over that small barrier.

his helmet shifts, clicks, and falls away, folding in on itself and away from his face to reveal a terrifyingly wide and toothy smile, eyes glimmering with the knowledge of a man who imagined what he would do in this sort of position should he have been given it countless times. lord shaxx is a man with the knowledge of who his enemies are in this mortal ring ----- and he knows exactly how to weed them out.

“ so, ” comes the amused purr, “ when’s the coronation? ”

shaxx doesn’t like the speaker’s robes. he’d heard the complaint from the previous speaker himself numerous times and when the tailors attempt to drape the new robes on his sturdy form, shaxx burns them off immediately, not caring to leave himself bare. he announces loudly as he brushes the ash off his shoulders that he would design something far more comfortable and practical before he turns and marches out of the room. the helmet stayed on.

the titan comes back an hour later, fully clothed, with a handful of sketches, immaculately drawn and he explains them in even greater detail as the tailors pour over them. they begin immediately once choosing a practical and favorable design, shaxx watching them stitch for stitch, thread for thread. he doesn’t interfere, no, seeming confident that they can handle it on their own, but nonetheless, he remains until they finish late into the night.

he waits until the last tailor leaves, hearing the door close softly, before he walks over to the mannequin and inspects it one last time. after one walk around, it’s then that he finally grabs some armor paint, dipping his fingers in gently, and he draws one long vermilion stripe down the immaculate chest piece. he bows his head, hand resting at the edge of the stripe, and he heaves a long sigh once his silent prayer is finished and stows away the paint.

now, he’s ready.

the titan doesn’t expect such a huge turn out to his coronation, i.e. the entire city. and then he remembers that while the people know the vanguard had shattered, they don’t know the finer details of cayde’s death -- of how broken the tower and its commanders truly are. and so, the city streets leading from the tower to the traveler are littered with people, decorations strung up along the buildings and confetti raining down from above as the procession of sparrows make their way through.

the cheering is deafening, almost making shaxx want to cringe at the wall of noise that surrounds him on either side, but he keeps his wits about as they continue forward. he hadn’t know that the consensus and the speaker were so strongly celebrated ----- he never paid much attention to the celebrations of the city if they never made it to the tower. for the coronation of the speaker, a private banquet is usually held after the ceremony -- spent with guardian consensus members and other heads of the democracy -- those are what he attends.

but this... this is all new to him.

by the time they make it to the temple directly beneath the traveler, shaxx’s ears are surely numb and his claws are trying desperately to break through his gloves as he dismounts his sparrow, staring up at the endless steps leading into the temple. he sucks in a breath and squares his shoulders as someone comes up behind him and clasps the furred cape over his right shoulder.

he walks with purpose, his strides long and elegant, head held high, just as saladin taught him all those years ago. never falter, never hesitate -- even if you don’t know what you’re doing, simply looking as if you do can get you anywhere. and so he strides up the steps of the intricate temple, never tearing his gaze from the entrance until he finally makes it inside and the cool air blows over him and the doors close to block out the voices of the city.

his ears ring as he looks around the dim hall, taking in every branch, every torch, and every guard stationed around. there isn’t much in terms of decoration, save for the occasional plants or bench, and the long carpet spread before him and it doesn’t change as he traverses into the main chamber where the head consensus members await him. zavala, ikora, the newly appointed shiro, the faction leaders, even saladin who stands at the head of the small semi-circle.

the old iron lord has his helmet off, a lacquered oak box in his hands, and he offers a small yet proud smile as the traveler’s glow falls upon shaxx when he steps into the ring. shaxx’s heart swells and warms at the sight even as kneels before them, placing a hand on his knee. ikora and zavala’s smiles don’t quite reach their eyes, grief still clouding them, but he sees the faintest glimmers of hope threaten to break through, and for shaxx ,that is enough.

saladin opens the oak box, revealing the speaker’s mask, redecorated into the familiar colors of shaxx’s old helm, and shiro moves to remove it. as the new hunter vanguard strides forward, saladin’s deep voice reverberates throughout the small chamber, echoing out into the city as he recites an ancient oath,

“ lord amia shaxx forge, on this day of remembrance and in this age of recollection, do you cast aside your name, your title, and your past to serve the city and the traveler as its oracle and becomer of the future? ”

“ i do. ”

“ do you swear yourself to call upon your visions and dreams in truth and honesty as the traveler intended, imparting your given wisdom to the consensus of the people to further our future into a peaceful golden age and the end of the darkness’s reign? ”

“ i do. ” with the last words of lord shaxx spoken in the chamber, the mask rests over his face, obscuring his vision momentarily until the hud activates and he is given the sight of the consensus proclaiming together,

“ from here until irreparable death, the holy voice of the traveler is reborn ----- arise, o blessed speaker, arise! ”

getting to his feet, the speaker squares his shoulders and puffs out his chest, stance tall and proud. there was going to be a lot of work to do in the coming months, but for tonight, he will relish in his new role.

his first meeting as the speaker happens the day after his coronation and he’s not surprised. they want to catch him off guard, unprepared, to hound him and prove that he’s not a capable leader and perhaps drive him out and replace him with an unsuitable stand-in. but he knows their tricks, knows how they think, and he walks in with a list.

the speaker remains standing even as the full consensus hall is seated and he looks at the dark and hooded faces out in the dimness. he eyes narrow as he picks out particular faces, watching as they fidget when he turns his head towards them, and there’s a soft snort. they know and if they don’t they’ll figure it out soon.

“ welcome! ” he booms out, letting out a soft laugh at the way the consensus jumps at his voice and he claps his hands together, spark dancing between his palms. “ how convenient that you should all convene today! there are a number of items i would like us to... consider before moving forward to heavier topics. ”

“ what would you like to go over, speaker? you have our attention, ” ikora says gently, her firm tone killing any noise of protest that had any hope of springing up.

the speaker spreads his hands out and from the arc springs up bright blue holograms, six panels in total that begin rotating around his broad form. the panels begin streaming dozens of names, and he relishes in the terror that begins to grow on some members’ faces.

“ today, my dear consensus, we will be cleaning house. ”

#[ i went back and edited the FUCK out of this im so sorry ]#[ its so long but here it is ]

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loudlydeliciouschill · 5 years

Text

Those funny feelings I had... (Part 3)

I remind you that I have bad English and I'm sorry but I'm trying. So sorry.

Each dragon had its treasures. Someone collected everything: from ordinary cobblestones of various shapes and sizes to original works of art and various rare things. But for the most part they collected jewels: diamonds, rubies, sapphires and other shiny trinkets. This “passion” had begun with the advent of the first magical creatures caused by necessity. Because there had never been any magic before these creatures appears, therefore it had to be accumulated and stored for centuries, and for this purpose brilliant stones and ores perfectly suited. This continued as a centuries-old tradition. Each dragon of acquiring a treasure chest, which holds a reserve of magic and can help with a strong depletion or injury. The bigger, the better.

Spyro initially didn't understand this attachment to trinkets, but as he grew older he became involved in the process and collected not only stones and metals. He also collected "memorable things." In one of the hiding places in Firefly Grove, he kept his heroic trophies. Among them were the helmet of Gnasty, the crown of the Sorceress, the guide of Avalar, the battered Monnybags bag, and a bunch of similar things. From each enemy he met, he had something to remember. And only crumpled burned purple cape from some reason was more precious to him than everyone else in his collection.

Strange as it may seem, from Ripto he got nothing at all except the chaos of the causal wizard, moral satisfaction after the victory and many days of work on the consequences of the disorder. He disappeared and appeared when he pleases, creating destruction and irritate dragon to gnash of teeth. He was Spyro's most frequent enemy, but the “hero” got the trophy out of the mercy his enemy many years ago.

The sorcerer was clever and sophisticated in his atrocities. Often, acting alone against several opponents, among whom was Spyro, he stood up longer than anyone else, been the winner of the most stalemate situations. Even if he lost, he always survived, no matter what, but he never forgave his enemies. Except Spyro. Although their last encounter didn't even resemble a battle, it was more likely the exchange of mockery, after that Ripto grabbed a magical book and disappeared before the eyes of the dragon.

Ripto was a mystery. Over the years, he has become much stronger and surprisingly more restrained in his outbursts of anger, but in contrast to this detachment and coldness are seen in the sorcerer’s eyes. Their meetings happened less and less, in the end Ripto simply disappeared from the life of the hero of the Dragon Worlds. Many told him that it was for the best, but the new enemy's were not like the angry big-headed dino-wizard. And after so many years, Spyro missed him.

More than a few decades have passed, the dragon has grown up, ready to cross the threshold of maturity, but he still missed the grumbling sorcerer.

Spyro always wanted to get from Ripto not a trophy, but his eyes, which were not covered with anger and alienation. He wanted Ripto's face to smooth out and a smile adorn his features. In secret, the dragon really wanted them to be friends, so that they could speak without threats and swearing.

He had plenty of time to think about the adventures that had happened to him before. Spyro came to the conclusion that in essence Ripto had conceded to him, leading himself as befits an adult and wise creature. It seemed to the dragon more and more often that the sorcerer was infinitely lonely and sad, hiding it behind wrathful bravado. Indeed, besides two big dummys of Gulp and Crash, he doesn't have any of other relatives. Spyro realized this after finding himself in Ripto's world - Chetaute Ripto, where dino people were scared to death and worshiped their king in fear.

Ripto was someone... Who embittered on the whole world for an incomprehensible to dragon reason; who hates his own people, which he rule; Who don't trust anyone and not a single kind word, but the sametime he's intelligent, resourceful, charismatic and purposeful. It seemed to the dragon that nothing could break that determination burning in wizard's chest. Spyro saw that if Ripto wanted something, he would do it any by price. Or Spyro just wanted to believe it.

The dragon was tormented by questions and doubts about the sorcerer, but he believed in what he saw himself. He saw that Ripto is twitching from the outstretched paw, bristling and frightened of it, still drives Spyro into confusion and sadness. He saw that Ripto hides rare bright smiles behind the palm or collar of the cape, so that no one can see it. He saw that Ripto knows how to contemplate and appreciate the beauty of nature and art. He knows that Ripto is not entirely clean and noble blood as it might seem at first glance. And he knows that Ripto smells like orange and smoke what dragon finds very tastful.

This was not enough for Spyro, he wanted to understand why Ripto act this way, but how to do it if you saw each other last time almost 50 years ago and at the same time you are mortal enemys?

So the facts that Spyro finally grew, and Ripto apparently did not change one bit, was put under great doubt.

And once again returning to Avalar, the dragon recalled the first meeting in his life with the dino sorcerer and smiled at his thoughts.

- Remembered something pleasant, my friend? - Hunter asked, joining Spyro at the portal to the Summer Forest.

The dragon turned his pensive look to the cheetah and smiled broadly.

- Yes, Avalar brings me some memories.

- That's for sure. Well, I think we still have to walk through the Forest, Professor said there was a strange magical activity. It is worth checking it out, - after saing that Hunter jumped into the portal and Spyro followed him.

- And once you guys called me, something dangerous is clearly brewing there, - the dragon continued the thought of his friend as soon as they teleported. The archer just nodded.

Summer Forest affably met his heroes with a bright warm sun and noisy foliage. The guys immediately went to the thicket not far from the entrance to Glimmer, which was easy to enter, for the walls separating the thicket from the forest edge were removed for a long time because they were not needed. Carefully and slowly moving deep in forest, they heard the melody of the flute, melodiously carried between the green branches. Going to the sound, they came to the lake, which was not yet touched by the inhabitants of Avalar and had a truly magical beauty: a fascinating water surface, beautiful fragrant flowers and shrubs, cool shadows of tall trees.

On the lush shore of the lake, someone was sitting, pulling out from the flute smoose melodies intertwining with the natural sounds of this magical place. Noticing the stranger, Hunter and Spyro hurried to shelter in the nearest bushes in order to observe his further actions.

Only as soon as they relocated as a group of gnorks rushed out of the opposite bushes to the lake. They clearly had something against the musicant. And imagine Spyro's surprise when he finally saw who these self-made toads sneak up to. Near the lake sat none other than Ripto, slowly and naturally playing some simple, but no less beautiful melody. If it were not for Hunter who was sitting next to him, Spyro would have rushed to the rescue, but now he could only watch in surprise.

Watch as the sorcerer saw the movement behind his back and scatters these toads with one elegant wave of the flute, from which a huge air flow has escaped, throwing out gnorks as if they weigh nothing. Fearfully, they rose to their feet and with some indecision stopped dead, but the new squad of still not frightened soldiers rushed into battle. Flute deftly turned into an unchanged companion Ripto - in his scepter - and the gnorks didn't get off easy this time with a simple flight into the air. The water raised by magic poured into the heads of the toads with powerful jets, throwing some away somewhere in the forest, and some striking at the felling, from which they lost their appearance and disappeared in a flash of grey stinky smoke. Having finished the massacre, the sorcerer, as if nothing had happened, sat down again on the shore of the lake, resuming the game.

Minutes later, none other than Gnasty Gnork came out to the lake accompanied by his more beaten lackeys, which clearly also came from him.

- I apologize for this imbeciles, Lord Ripto, - said Gnasty respectfully. - I ordered them to find and bring you to me, but they took the order too directly.

- Your soldiers are not smart and quick-witted, - Ripto replied gruffly, looking up from the tool. - I advise you to solve this issue. It is unreasonable to rely on idiots who are not able to even understand your order.

- I'm afraid too smart can ask unnecessary questions or betray for the sake of profit.

- So give them the best benefit, Sir Gnasty, - even without seeing the sorcerer’s face, Spayro could clearly “see” how he smiles slyly. - What do you need? I was busy and your request for a meeting tore me off from important documents.

- I know, but I have information that will obviously interest you and I want to share it with you.

- Oh, I doubt that greatly. But go ahead, - Ripto snorted, returning to the game.

Unhurried melody again sounded like a lake, fascinating stupid gnorks and slightly distracting Gnasty himself. He awkwardly wobbled on the spot, but still stepped closer to the former ally.

- You and I have a good tandem in the past, I think if the Sorceress survived, then the three of us would be completely invincible, - the green giant began to ingratiate, obviously not intending to express his idea as quickly as possible, to Ripto’s obvious irritation. - I here thought that with this new information I found we should repeat this experience and even improve it. If we unite again, we will be able to defeat the dragons and take revenge on that purple misunderstanding. Your troops and skills, and my knowledge and strength - together, nothing will stop us! We will conquer the Dragon Worlds and all its treasures!

Gnasti’s fiery speech was supported by several gnorks, but their boss angrily snapped at them, peering intensely at Ripto’s back, who with an imperturbable face continued to play the flute as if ignoring brut in golden armor.

- Did you listen to me at all?

- You didn’t tell me anything that would make me agree or at least ponder your statement about creating a union, - interrupting his execution a second time, the sorcerer replied.

- And if I say that I have learned the main weakness of all dragons, which will be their doom?”

Ripto flinched, the flute stopped near his mouth, and Spyro, who squeezed the grass under his fingers, twitched together with him. A deafening silence reigned near the lake for a few minutes. Gnasty watched as the sorcerer frowned thoughtfully, thinking and wondering options.

- And you won’t tell me what kind of weakness it is until I agree to a union, right? - Ripto said, carefully touching the surface of the tool in his hands. The answer was a fierce nod from the big man in armor, to which the ripton grinned wryly. - I must give you my due, Gnasty. This is very clever.

- Learning from the best, - said Gnork. - I'm not going to leave you all the work, as happened last time. - Only together we are indestructible, so we both have to give everything. Everything will be serious and grown-up.

- Oooh, so that time we played games, - the sorcerer say mockingly, his eyes narrowing in anger. - You set me up then, Gnasty. Cowardly escaped as soon as the figures were on the chessboard, leaving me alone with the plan that YOU came up with and invent a new one on the go. The things are not done like that, let alone revenge.

- But ...!

- Do you have any idea how much I lost during THAT event because of YOUR plan? Did you even think for a minute about what happened there? Do you even know the result?

- I know, - whispered the green giant. - I paid you the losses. We're quits, remember?

Ripto squeezed the flute firmly in his hands, from which she squealed plaintively, but quickly loses his grip, breathing heavily.

- I remember, but my answer is no, - the sorcerer replied restrainedly, his eyes buried in the clear water. - I don’t have time for dragons, Gnasty. I have other priorities now.

- But ... But now is the time! - Gnasty stared at the dino shocked, walking up to him in tight. - Such a chance falls just once and you are ready to miss it? You were more oppressed by dragons than me! You have always been their main hater! Damn yes I was sure that you will erase these brazen snouts from the face of the universe! And now you are ready to retreat from your convictions !? Forget all injustices and injuries?!

- YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO DEMAND ANYTHING FROM ME! I WON'T ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS IF I WANT TO! - the wizard boiled jumping to his feet from which Gnork took a step back, remembering the danger of falling under the sorcerer’s hot hand. - I haven't forgotten anything, - he hissed lowly. - No offense, no defeat. However, some events forced me to reconsider the attitude towards certain things. Including to ... dragons.

- And what did you decide? - asked Gnasti hesitantly.

- I absolutely don't care about them. I don’t want to have anything to do with pompous idiots who don’t see further than their own nose and always run away from the consequences, as soon as something goes wrong.

- What about Spyro?! You have your personal scores with him!

- It's certainly NOT your concerned. If you so want to get revenge then do it yourself, do not drag me. Do I make myself clear?

Suddenly, Ripto inhaled the air, sniffing quickly, and abruptly turned his head toward the bushes where Hunter and Spyro were hiding, meeting his gaze with the dragon for a moment.

- We are overheard! SCATTER! - commanded Ripto. Gnasty and his minions rushed in one direction, and the sorcerer in a strictly opposite.

- Spyro, I'm go after gnorks, and you're after shorty, - shouted Hunter rushing off the spot he was, reaching for the bow.

Spyro was already racing at full speed behind the rapidly disappearing Ripto. As a child, he could quickly catch up with a short dino and as he grew up and stretched out, it shouldn’t take him much time. But to his surprise, he didn’t take into account how deftly the sorcerer looped between the trees, entangling the trail and not allowing the dragon to grab him.

- Stop! I just want to talk!

- Fuck off, fire-breath! Get lost!

Ripto somehow climbed a tree and deftly moved along the woven branches, making it even harder to catch his movement because of the foliage. Climbing up after wizard wasn't an option for Spyro because the branches are unlikely to withstand the current weight of the dragon and the maneuver for him is much less.

The dragon moved his paws as quickly as possible, following an elusive way after enemy, but could not catch up or even see Ripto. And after a moment, dino simply disappeared among the green foliage, leaving behind only a light trail of the familiar smell and the echo of an impish chuckle.

So frozen in the middle of the thicket, Spyro tried to catch his breath. Despite the failure, the heart was warming the thought that the sorcerer did not agree to the proposal of Gnasty. Apparently all the same, he “grew up” from his "prejudices". Crazy smile crept into the dragon's face. Just at the same time, in Spyro's head flashed the thought that Ripto still smells very tasty.

(sorry not sorry)

#ripto #my english very bad but i'm trying #riptothesorcerer #spyro ripto's rage #i regret nothing #my au #fanfic

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