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#sorry this got SO long i’ve wanted to make that point about the formality for a while and it got a bit out of hand sfghdjsksk
cybunii · 1 month
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HIDE AND SEEK
“Let's play a little game and have fun”
a/n: so glad this is finally finished >< I do have a part two planned but I have NO idea when that would come out. this is the longest thing i have written so far- pairing: Leon Kennedy x GN! Reader tw: stalking, dub/non-con, slight mentions of somnophilia, intercrural sex/thigh fucking, gaslighting, murder and drugging, Leon is a prick :3, obsessive and manipulative behavior, possible kidnapping, etc.
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-
It was safe.
You lived in a relatively small town, and never seeing any reports of kidnapping or murders on your TV made life easy to live. The worst things to happen were food shortages because of the slow drivers, or maybe the power going out because of the awful storms. 
You never had to worry about anything. You worked at the little grocery store on the corner, going between the deli and the floral department when needed. After working there for years, you knew everyone who lived there, eventually knowing their names and where they lived. You had made it a point to talk to everyone you saw, wanting them to feel welcome and seen, it was just a small habit you picked up.
It wasn't the most exciting job in the world, but it was nice to be able to pay rent and have a routine. The days when partners would come in gushing about who they were buying flowers for were your favorite, let it be birthdays, holidays, or just a random event. It made your day, and you weren't even the one receiving the flowers. 
It seemed like you were the outcast in the town, not because no one liked you, but because you didn't have kids or a partner. It didn't bother you about the kids, you were never too fond of having them. Cute, but not for you. The partner subject was a harder thing to explain, you were used to living and being alone so it didn't bother you much. 
You always thought of that as you made the arrangements, the feeling of someone putting their heart into making something so special for you.
This puts you to right now, placing together an arrangement while Mrs. Green talks about her grandkids. You often wondered if she actually liked them with how much she complained about them. They were bad kids though, and got into trouble every week.
“…And of course Parker has to follow in Taylor’s footsteps and tear up the place, knocking over my expensive vase- the one you got me for my birthday-” She explains, covering her mouth as she realizes what she said. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry…” 
You shake your head and put on your best fake smile, holding up a hand to ease her worries. 
“It’s quite alright Mrs. Green, you know how kids are.” You shrug, but internally your wallet dies. You hunted for that vase for hours, finally getting one on sale for roughly $260. Damn those kids. 
She wraps up the conversation maybe a few minutes later, rattling off some reason about cooking her famous chicken again. 
You lived next to her and smelled whatever she cooked while you had your windows open, if the smells were any indication, she was a damn good cook. 
I mean anything smelled good to you. You weren’t a 5-star chef or anything, but you could cook decent meals. Better than the college route of sandwiches and noodles. Those were the days.
-
It doesn’t take long for the day to end, only having a few people working in the store meant shorter closing hours, and getting to go home earlier than most was a perk. You walk out after closing up, locking the door, and practically crashing into Mr. West, basically the head of the events committee for this town. 
“Woah! Be careful there sweetheart.” He said, chuckling like he wasn’t the reason of you almost falling on him. 
“Sorry, what’s up?” You asked, actually interested this time. The last time he planned something, the entire town showed up, it was one of the most exciting things to happen in this town in a while. 
“Well, I came to formally invite you to the little get-together I’ve been planning for the new neighbor, I want to help make them feel welcomed here.” He grins, clasping his hands together as he talks, I guess that makes sense, everyone here knows each other so a new person joining may feel out of place, almost like a new kid joining a new school. Possibly horrifying to experience. 
“A new person? Where at?” You ask, not seeing any empty buildings near your house. Then again it had been a while since you last looked, and the Gold family has been strangely absent. 
“Right on the corner, lil white house with the blue shutters?” 
You nod in acknowledgment, suddenly knowing where that one is and frowning at the fact. 
That house has been abandoned for years, I mean long before you even moved into your little place. The blue didn’t look as vibrant and the white was a sad and dirty grey. 
The inside of the house is just as run down as the outside was. Broken furniture litters the house, most have fallen from their resting places and piled up on each other. The walls are cracked and the floor is covered in dirt and grass that have grown inside the house. 
“Ah, yeah. That one…”
Mr. West nods, almost uncaring about the state of the house. “Yup, been meaning to sell that house for ages. Nice to see some new meat round here.”
“Guess so, but I’ll be glad to take you up on that offer. What’s the details for it?” You ask, taking out your phone. 
He practically swats your phone away, shaking his head in disappointment. “Ah don’t worry about that old thing, I got letters to send out, you’ll see it when it arrives!” He bids his goodbyes and quickly walks off down the sidewalk, assuming he’s knocking on the door of your neighbors next. 
On your journey back home, you take an extra second to look at the house, it being the same way you remembered it. You thought they’d at least try and clean it up, but maybe the person isn’t here yet. The mailbox at least looked new, a nice shiny baby blue color, the black numbers on the side reading “205.” 
If first impressions mean anything, the entrance having some pop to it makes it easier on the eyes and matches the house too. 
But something about the house seems off. You can't put your finger on it, but something feels...wrong about it. 
But maybe that's just the strange aura the abandoned house brings. You continue the trek to your house, thinking about the invitation that the city council member gave you previously before reaching your street. The quiet road is mostly void of any human activity, with the occasional leaf floating down on the wind and the birds fluttering through the air.
Having no information on it so far makes it hard to plan anything out, especially if the letter gets sent too late. 
-
You stop in your tracks at the small glimpse of color resting on your doormat, squinting your eyes at it and deciding it’s too far away to actually tell what it is. 
You make small strides to your front porch, your pepper spray in hand when you pause, almost laughing at the fact that you almost pepper sprayed a bouquet of flowers. You frown and pick it up, the display of flowers similarly close to the arrangement you made earlier that day. 
You suspiciously inspect it with squinted eyes, turning it around before finding the note secured by a ribbon that’s wrapped around the middle. 
“Thought you deserved these more. <3” 
That’s nothing short of weird. 
Not only did the note have some sort of…stain on it, the handwriting is damn near illegible, barely being able to read the poorly attempted cursive on the small note. 
You don’t even know who sent these but it already seems annoying. No return address and no name means there’s someone too shy to approach you, a loser in your eyes. Could be a cute loser, those are fun. 
You shrug it off and walk in your house, flowers in hand as you place them on the kitchen counter, scouring your cabinets for a vase that’s suitable for them. You know it’s your work, just strange on how it ended up back in your hands. You grab the glass from under the cabinet, putting fresh water in it as you trim the bottom of the stems, carefully setting them in the vase on the counter. You’d have to pick up flower food later, but you can always do that tomorrow, not like you don’t already have a shift at the grocery store in the morning.
It’s a weird, possibly fucked up scenario, but It’s almost sweet in a way. Maybe in a school girl way, with your crush or secret admirers sticking notes or love letters in the slots of your locker. Grinning as you show your friends, the ecstatic look on their faces as they encourage you to go over to them, to thank them or ask them out on a date. 
You’ll have to think of consequences later. 
But now? You’ll happily sip your drink and stare at the flowers, daydreaming about who could possibly be your secret admirer.
-
The next day at work is just as boring, but this time your manager Beck did assign someone to your department, so now you’ll only have flowers today. She is in the office today, and you being her favorite employee, she often hangs around, picking up scraps and putting together some of the orders. 
“You hear about the new guy?” She asked, lazily throwing together another order of red roses. 
New guy huh? Guess Mr. West didn’t mention who the new neighbor could be. 
“Somewhat, already got an invite to that huge gathering West is planning.” 
She scoffs, rolling her eyes at the mention of both the gathering and West. They were together at some point, could be rumors, but you can’t deny seeing her knuckles turn white on occasion as she clenches her fists together. Just hearing about him must make her angry. 
“I heard. Can’t wait for that.” 
“It won’t be so bad, maybe it’ll be nice to get the town together again. Especially for the all-famous new guy.” You offer with a shrug, knowing you could care less about all of it. 
It’s not like you hated the poor guy right off the bat, but with every conversation being centered around him? It makes him seem like the next Jesus Christ. With even you knowing about him, the entire town is probably waiting for his arrival. And you know these people, already have assumptions based on his name, of which you don’t even know. You’d almost feel bad if you didn’t already have your own assumptions. 
 He better live up to the hype, or these people will eat him alive. 
“…you know, I actually saw him when he was touring the house,” Beck says with a grin, and you already know the look on her face. She’s a romantic at heart, can’t really blame her. 
“Oh yeah, panty-dropping?” 
She laughs and rolls her eyes, but you know it’s true. She’s attractive, but her college days will never leave her. You cannot forget the drunken stories she’s rambled to you about them practically lining up outside her dorm, and honestly? Good for her. 
Only action you get is from whatever you watch on television, or recently that weird-ass admirer situation. You keep your mouth shut about that, not that you don’t trust her, but she’ll make it a much bigger thing than you need right now. The last thing you need is more attention for this weird display of affection. 
“Well, he’s kinda tall, intimidating but has a cute baby face- Oh! And the most gorgeous blue eyes I’ve ever seen.” She smiles, practically glowing red. 
“Sounds boring, there’s like a million of those already.” You shrug, crossing your arms after putting down the completed order. 
“This one is different! There’s something about his eyes, he’s mysterious.” She nods, a mischievous expression on her face. 
“Right, I’ll see for myself whenever this party happens.”
Beck waves you off with her hand and goes into the break room, maybe to smoke again, it has been a while since her last break. 
It’s been a while since your break as well, and no one is near the counter, and you’ve finished all your orders for today. What harm could a break do? You follow in her footsteps and walk back to your locker, opening it and sifting through your bag. After a few moments you forget what you’re looking for, but the lack of your lighter makes you pause. 
Very small thing, but still noticeable. You step outside and eye Beck up and down with a suspicious look, squinting your eyes at her. 
“What?” She asks, blowing out the smoke. 
“Did you grab my lighter? It’s gone.” 
She raises an eyebrow and shakes her head, pulling out her bright yellow lighter. “Nope, got mine right here. Anyone else smoke?” 
“Nah, just us. Damn, I liked that one.” You feel your pockets one last time and lean against the wall, now having to buy yet another lighter. 
“How do you keep losing yours?” She laughs at you, and you shrug, not like you have any idea. You have a good memory but misplace the small things, you think it’s only natural. 
“No clue, maybe I’m being haunted.” 
The woman laughs again and shakes her head. "Haunted by who? A ghost with something to gain from you? I heard that is an incredibly rare phenomenon."
It doesn't seem crazy, in fact, the idea feels...plausible. The spirits that haunt this area are mostly vengeful, but that still doesn't explain why they would send you things. What would a vengeful spirit have to gain from giving you gifts?
“Yknow, I’ve got this other guy, names L? Supposedly runs a business catching ghosts, people eat that shit up. He’s basically swimming in money.” She nods with a serious look, pointing her finger at you. 
And? Yeah okay- Sometimes you can’t tell if she’s actually serious or just fucking with you. 
You don’t offer up a reply, instead staring at her with a disappointed look. She shrugs in response, taking a drag off her cigarette. 
She continues smoking, blowing out a puff of grey smoke that wafts up and drifts away in the wind. It has a pleasant smell, the scent of flowers and honey-like fruits. It is soothing. The woman's expression remains as nonchalant as it was previously.
“Might head in, heard someone at the counter.” It’s cutting your break a few minutes short, but not like you can do anything else. 
Have to add that to your list of things to do later. 
Care about the consequences of keeping the flowers, buy a new lighter, and use your break time wisely. 
You make a mental note of those three things. The rest of your shift goes as smoothly as expected, though you have a nagging feeling that there is something off about the house you saw earlier. That feeling, mixed with the strange gifts and Beck's strange comment has your mind racing. 
-
That night you had to close late, the customers obviously not understanding closing hours. You get people need food, but they could’ve cleared their schedules or something- Maybe even get there the next morning when you first open. Beck couldn’t close because her cat sitter said he got sick, so she had to rush home and get him to the vet- which is unfortunately hours away.
You make your rounds through the store, jotting down the few things that need to be stocked in the morning. And also make sure no one is trying to stay overnight, kicking those people out is the worst. The last time someone had hidden in the break room, practically scaring the poor new girl to death, she didn’t stay long after that.
A small clang gets your attention, the sound only being noticed because of the dead silent- and hopefully empty store. 
Two things could happen here, either someone is here and fucking with something, or it’s an animal of some kind. 
You don’t want to deal with either. 
You unhook the pepper spray from off your belt, gripping it in your hands like it may fall, almost like a greedy spoiled kid with anything. Unable to let go, and won’t without a good reason. 
Your reason? 
Nothing being here. 
You stalk around the corner with quiet steps, frowning when you hear the small taps of your shoes as they carefully touch the ground when you walk. Damn these shoes and this slick ass floor. You’re hyper-focused on any noise that your ears can pick up, but of course your brain has to imagine hearing footsteps all around you. Another clang has you looking towards the break room, now registering the sound as the locker opening and closing. Walking towards the sound makes your heart race, the loud thumping beats filling your head as you take more and more steps towards the room. 
Rushing around the corner has you panting and hyperventilating, aiming your pepper spray at the lockers - seeing a masked figure quickly slip out the back door, completely dressed in black. 
You run after them, knocking the door open and running into the parking lot. After a quick and very thorough search, it was like they disappeared. There’s no one walking or anything, only the sound of the wind filling your ears. 
A quick walk back to the break room and you’re searching the lockers, praying that they didn’t steal or break anything. Everything is perfectly fine, until you step towards your locker. Nothing seems out of place, but your gut tells you something is in there, something’s wrong. 
You take a deep breath and swing the locker open, squeezing your eyes shut so hard you start seeing shapes. Nothing popping out at you has you opening your eyes again, glancing down at your once empty locker with an expression of disbelief- and maybe a small hint of…disappointment?
It’s your lighter. A small note attached to it reading, “Sorry :(“
What?
You know it’s whoever gave you the flowers, I mean they find your house, your workplace, and locker, steal your stuff, and then return it?
You were barely angry about it, only annoyed, and that’s all it took for them to give it back to you? Especially in the weird way that they did. 
They had to be nearby to hear that conversation you had with Beck, whether outside or inside the store. But no one being there makes you pause.
It makes you wonder how long they’ve been watching you. 
The chill that runs down your spine and makes your entire body shiver makes you consider finally setting up those security cameras around your house. You may not be able to do it at the store, but damn this stalker being able to free-roam your own house. 
Makes you consider buying another weapon as well, pepper spray is temporary at this point, people can still fight with their eyes closed.
It being almost midnight puts a stop to enacting any of your plans, you'll just have to invest a pretty penny in the morning to get those cameras, then spend the entire afternoon planning out and placing the cameras around your house. 
Even if you are the only one to see the footage, the thought of having cameras watch you is almost creepy in a way. Like an instant goosebumps kind of feeling. Just gross, can't explain it. 
A quick walk back to your house has you calming down some, despite it being night, the street lights do good work to light up the streets, and hearing the small buzz come from them is soothing in a way. 
You stop by your mailbox first, your morning shift crossing with the path of the mailman's schedule. A glance through the letters and you stop at the bright pink one, immediately knowing it has the details of the gathering. 
Ripping the top off and skimming through the small writing makes you want to crumble the letter up in your hands, just tossing it out into the street. Of course, it's tomorrow, well technically today since it's well past midnight now. 
The only good part is that it's around five, which gives you time to sleep and prepare some weird side dish. It's much better than trying to pick out a gift for the random guy, that's a hair-pulling kind of stress that you definitely dont want to deal with right now, or ever. 
-
That night you actually managed to have a full night's rest, no randomly waking up or any nightmares to scare you half to death. The bright lights peaking through your blinds make you immediately cover your eyes, stretching your legs out and hearing the small pops. 
Sitting up makes you jolt a bit, and the sudden realization of something wet between your legs makes you groan. A quick look under the covers has your mind reeling, it's definitely not your period, and it's all over your thighs and underwear. 
You dont remember having a dream that good to literally come everywhere, let alone have it look like this. Tossing your clothes and sheets in the washing machine and taking a hot shower has you relaxing and not paying any attention to it. 
You have better things you need to worry about today. 
The letter only contained the dishes already being brought to the event, a small note at the bottom explaining to try and bring a dish everyone can eat. Could be easy enough, you could just go to the store and grab a fruit plate or something. Doesn’t take much time to get and is somewhat inexpensive. 
Plus-
Everyone knows this main event is not about the food. 
Around roughly 4:45, you pull up to an awfully crowded building. With most of the parking spaces being filled and people having to stand outside due to the inside being packed, you dont have high hopes for a stress-free night. 
These people are good people, and you get along with them just fine. But having to be at an introduction party is the worst. Having the same conversation over and over again isn't exactly your idea of fun.
And with how many people are here? 
You should practically have sorry on speed dial anytime you may bump into someone, I mean- god forbid you dont apologize for what they did. Of course, everything is fine, you might explode if someone elbows you again but it's all chill! Complaining and daydreaming have you slowly exiting your car, fruit plate in hand as you try to find the food table. 
A reunion. Always something to complain about, whether the food is too dry, the children are annoying, or the awkward moment when that one neighbor drinks too much and starts to talk about his latest conspiracy theories. 
A lot of families have those members you wish you didn't know. But, hey, that's the price you pay to be related to someone.
And two conversations later you finally set it down 20 minutes later. 
You glance up at the poorly taped banner on the wall, holding up a nice welcome greeting.
Leon, huh?
Puts a name to the face you haven't seen yet.
There's something ominous in the air about party's dedicated to a single individual. 
Maybe because everything is out of your control, with every person here dedicated to making the honored person the center of attention. 
Of course, that is exactly why he might enjoy their party. But for a newcomer, it feels like being thrown into a lion's pit, surrounded by a pride of unknown beasts.
In moments like these, you wish it was just a normal party, where the stakes were lower, and the random people and neighbors were your friends.
It's not that they're rude people. You're just more of an introvert, wishing you had some kind of anchor for yourself, a familiar face or a friendly voice.
Beck hasn’t even shown up yet, leaving you standing in the corner watching the others, sipping on a champagne that tastes like perfume. 
You push yourself off the wall and crash into someone, the champagne spilling all over your neck and outfit, the sounds of their apologies drowned out by your thoughts.
The smell of spilled champagne fills your nose, and the apologetic sounds from the stranger fills your ears. You are sure to apologize as well, as the liquid stains your clothes and spills onto the ground as well.
The stranger seems nice, though unfortunate that the two of you crashed into each other, and both of your outfits are now wet and sticky.
The stranger doesn't seem very upset or annoyed by your spilling your drink over them, and you apologize profusely.
A moment passes, and you lock eyes with this strange person. The two of you laugh, the embarrassment fading away as both of you realize that it was an unfortunate accident.
Both of your attention is focused on each other now. The two of you lock eyes, and you can't help but notice how attractive this stranger is. It’s not about his overall appearance or personality, it’s the eyes that are drawing you in. Like a siren call, they practically pull you in, drowning in a sea of the most beautiful blue shade you’ve ever seen. 
“What an awkward first impression, kinda ruined that. I’m Leon, by the way-“ 
He chuckles, extending his hand out and shaking yours with a firm grip, the feeling of rough and calloused palms against your own is almost calming in a way. 
“I’d stay and chat for a bit but I should get cleaned up…” You chuckle awkwardly, gesturing towards the champagne that nearly drenched you. 
“Ah, I am sorry again. I should’ve paid more attention.” Leon frowns, looking you up and down, almost analyzing the mess he made of you. 
A quick nod and you’re off to the bathroom, staring in the mirror as you dab your neck and chest with a damp paper towel. The odd but familiar scent of the towel fills your nose, almost like a wet stale cardboard smell. 
You toss them in the trash when you’re done, admiring your appearance in the mirror before stepping back out of the bathroom. As you step out of the bathroom, your eyes are quickly met by the stranger you met earlier. Leon seems to be making a quick beeline towards you, the two of you catching up after the awkward spill.
Leon eyes you with interest, his shy but flirty demeanor becoming increasingly obvious to you. “You clean up real nice.”
You feel your cheeks flush at his comment about you cleaning up nicely. It seems that your efforts paid off after all. You didn’t dress up for him, let alone dress to impress. But god do those words make you happy. 
You smile at him, unsure of what to say next. He seems a bit flirtatious, which is certainly intriguing.
You can't help but feel your heart pounding like it never has before. The two of you lock eyes for a moment, and your breathing grows shallow as you take him in fully. 
He stands a bit taller than you are, his dirty blonde hair framing his face just right. The way that he stands gives you a sense of security, and his expression is one that speaks volumes. The lights reflected off his soft features, almost making him glow. Maybe Beck was right, he may be average, but there’s something else there. 
There is something intriguing about him, something that attracts your attention, almost begging you to investigate more. While he might be average-looking, his presence is anything but, and you are sure to discover what hides below the surface of those gorgeous eyes.
You find yourself caught in conversation with Leon for so long, that the moments start to slip away as you talk away the night. The feeling of being energized is almost invigorating, as the two of you laugh and enjoy each other's company. It's hard to imagine that only the champagne is causing the buzzing feeling in your body, it is certainly more than just that. 
The night continues on, and the two of you keep talking, enjoying each other's company. The more you engage in conversation, the feeling underneath your skin starts to grow almost intense, and it becomes harder to ignore it, or how you feel about this stranger. You can’t tell if the pounding in your head is because of the alcohol or him, his gaze towards you sending chills down your spine, goosebumps trailing their way down your arms.
Leon seems to notice something is off, and the expression he presents is one of concern. "Is something wrong? You look sick..."
It takes every ounce of willpower to keep yourself collected, and your shaking heart under control. "It's nothing, just had too much to drink... maybe," you finally say, giving a half-smile and trying not to show how nervous you are.
You can't help but feel your heart beating like an angry drum. You're almost certain that he can see the signs of your drunken affection for him, and you are sure to grow more and more embarrassed with every passing moment. 
It seems like Leon is trying to offer support, but to you, this just feels like a game of hide and seek, each side trying not to show their cards too early. A cat and mouse chase, the game only ending when the other party gives in. 
“I’m fine, promise.” You wave off his concern, swirling your drink around in your glass in an attempt to focus on something other than his face.
"Okay, if you're sure..." Leon says, his tone expressing that he sees right through your bluff.
He seems to notice you trying to distract him from the situation, and his expression softens slightly. He seems to pick that up, and the conversation continues.
You can't help but feel a tad bit awkward, so you focus on your drink to avoid looking at him. The swirling glass keeps your vision occupied, but your mind is still focused on the face you tried to avoid.
The conversation continues, and there is little to distract you from the awkward situation between you and Leon. The buzz has only grown more intense, almost making it hard to think straight at moments. Your heart is beating and your mind is reeling, tiny specks of black spotting your vision.
“I’m gonna get some fresh air,“ 
As the words begin to leave your mouth, his features shift to one of confusion, disappointment, and hints of something else that you can’t quite place. "... you're leaving?"
"I'm just...." you try to reply, but the words get caught in your throat. "I'll be back, just need some fresh air," you finally manage to stammer out, the expression on his face adding fuel to your lie.
He only nods in response, and you stagger off to the exit, trying to escape the overwhelming feelings flooding you.
You rush past the other partygoers, ignoring their looks and questions as you try to escape to the privacy of your car. The air is refreshingly cool compared to the crowded party inside, and you can finally breathe. You don't bother leaning against the wall, and instead make a dash for your car.
The freedom is refreshing, and you open your car door to find a quiet space where you can collect your thoughts. You still feel a weird mix of emotions inside you, but in the car, you have some time to calm down.
The drive back home is a surreal experience, as the intense feelings of embarrassment and concern start to settle in. You get home and flop onto your bed, letting the plush pillows and soft blankets ease your mind as you fall asleep in a matter of minutes. 
You fall into a deep sleep, but the feelings still linger. However, the soft embrace of sleep makes the feelings more bearable, and you finally allow yourself to rest.
-
The hangover is the first thing that hits you as you wake up, along with the pounding of your head and the aching pain in your body. Itchiness washes over you, feeling like a lingering reminder of the previous night. No wonder you woke up with a headache, considering the amount of alcohol you probably put away last night.
The little bit of alcohol seems like it affected you more than it should have, given the fact that you aren't a lightweight. Why did you have such a strong reaction to a small amount of alcohol? Was it the stress of the situation, or was there something else going on?
You take the pill killers and swallow the cold water with some difficulty, the scratching in your throat making it difficult to swallow. You hope and pray that the pills will kick in soon, as the pounding in your head is unbearable.
The feeling of the pills finally kicking in makes the headache much more tolerable and the itchy feeling under your skin shifts to something slightly less unbearable. You still feel the heat beneath your skin, and you know that the strange feeling hasn't gone away, but it's certainly become more manageable.
As the pills take effect, you're able to gather yourself for a shower. The hot water pours over your body, and it's heavenly. Not only does it bring the pain of your hangover down to a much more bearable level, but it even helps to calm the strange feeling that has been creeping underneath your skin as well. The heat from the water feels divine, and you find yourself lingering in the shower far longer than you intend to.
You step out of the shower, all clean and dressed with a light snack eaten. The lingering effects of the strange feeling are finally bearable, and you're ready to face the world again.
You leave your house and make your way to the hardware store, hoping that they will have the security cameras that you're looking for. The walk there is pleasant, and the breeze is helping to clear out the last bit of the strange feeling you experienced the night before.
As you enter the hardware store, you are relieved to discover that they do, in fact, carry the security cameras that you're looking for. The person working there is super friendly and knowledgeable, helping to guide you to the right section of the store.
It's nice to be able to get some answers about what happened a few nights ago, and the purchase will certainly make you feel safer in your own home.
You're staring at the two boxes, considering one white shade or the other, when a familiar voice breaks your concentration. It's Leon, and it seems he followed you to the store? 
He seems to recommend one shade over the other, and you take his suggestion to heart. The ghost white seems to suit the color of your walls much better, although the seashell has a nice pinkish hue to it. 
"I'll take the ghost white, then," you say, and turn to give him a smile.
“What are you doing here?” You ask as you turn around, spotting his empty basket in hand. 
"I, uhh..." he falters for a moment before continuing. "I was actually headed here to buy some things as well." He gestures to the store, but his eyes seem to be fixed on you instead.
He seems to have something else to say, but he's hesitant. You get the feeling that he's trying to find the right words, and he seems to be avoiding making eye contact.
“I hope you find them all right, they seem to have everything here!” You quickly reply, snuffing out any hint of awkwardness.
He seems to relax a little, as if relieved to shift the topic away from anything tense. "Yeah, they really have everything here. They've got everything I was looking for."
The awkwardness between you seems to have faded, and you feel a bit more comfortable. The conversation is back to being a bit lighthearted, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of both of your shoulders.
You bid your goodbyes and walk back to your house, holding the bag of freshly bought security cameras in your hand. Hopefully, they’ll blend nicely into your walls, Leon seemed to think so. 
You arrive back home with the two boxes of security cameras in hand and start to consider how to best set them up. You quickly decide the two outside and one in your bedroom, with the last remaining one being a bit of a mystery.
The living room would be a natural spot, but it's pretty open, and doesn't really make sense to have a camera there. The kitchen and dining room are an option, but those rooms could be considered too far away from your bedroom to really be effective at helping your paranoia.
You sit there for a moment, considering options of where the last camera could go. There are so many rooms, and so many different areas to consider, and you can't help but feel overwhelmed.
Finally, you make a decision. The last one will go in the basement, and the basement could use something to watch over it. The basement is an eerie place, with a large variety of odd and old items. The basement is not the neatest place in the world, but that works in your favor. 
You just make sure that it isn't pointed directly at any one thing, but rather in a way that you can watch everything.
You download the app on your phone, which allows you to view all of the cameras at any time. The basement camera is running smoothly, and the stream is clear. You can see the entire room at all times, though you can't detect any obvious signs of intruders or anything out of the ordinary.
It's a relief to have the cameras installed, and the house feels a bit more secure. 
Back upstairs, you toss the empty box and paper away as soon as you return. You won't need the physical reminder anymore, as the code is easy to remember. 
You sit on the couch and feel a feeling of peace wash over you. The cameras are set up, and the inside and outside can be monitored now. It feels comforting, and you hope the cameras will help deter any intruders from targeting your home, or better yet- whoever that one person was. 
-
A few days pass without any issues, and you feel your stress levels ease. Each peaceful day that goes by brings relief, knowing that the cameras are doing their job and nothing strange is going on. 
It's weird to think the strangest thing to happen is tourists flirting with you at your job, it's the truth. Every time you have to deal with one, you wonder how dumb they can really be. You wish you could smack them with the bouquets you sell, and make them regret ever coming over to your counter. But of course, you can't because that's not "Customer Service Friendly.” Ugh.
You almost start to forget about your worries, and life seems to return back to normal. The cameras are doing their job, and it seems like everything has been sorted out.
Leon has become a frequent person in your life, and you find yourself seeing him in almost every place you go. It seems that your paths often cross, even when you aren't necessarily expecting it.
Despite your issues with Leon earlier on, he has turned out to be an alright person. He hasn't done anything malicious like you had assumed, and he seems to be an honest person at this point. 
Beck still hasn't messaged you or anything, so it's been quite lonely without anyone to talk to. Leon has been the only person keeping you distracted from loneliness, and it's kind of refreshing to have someone new to talk to and hang out with.
Getting to know him in such a short time has been a bit of a surprise, as he's shared quite a bit with you. 
You learn about his life as a retired police officer, that he lives with a German shepherd named Lola, and that he currently doesn't have his family. The only other aspect about him that you haven't learned yet is his romantic life.
It's certainly understandable that he would keep his romantic life to himself. You don't go around advertising the fact that you're single either, so you get where he's coming from. It's just a private part of someone's life, and it's not something that needs to be discussed unless it's brought up by the person directly. 
It feels like there's more to him than just the police officer part, the German shepherd, and the lack of family. You kind of feel like there's more to the story when it comes to him. 
Which leads you to now.
You had invited Leon over for dinner, hoping that the house setting would make him feel more comfortable to open up and share more with you. You don't know what it is about him, but there's definitely more to his story than just his career and lack of family. He has some kind of wall around him, and maybe the more peaceful setting of the house will help him relax and share more.
The doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of Leon. You take one last glance in the mirror, making sure everything looks perfect before heading down to answer the door. You open the door, greeting Leon with a smile and leading him inside. 
The dining area is all setup, a delicious meal waiting on the table. The candles are lit and the mood is quiet and peaceful. The smell of the food you cooked wafted through the air, mixing with the warm and light scent of the candles.
Leon seems to be a bit sheepish as his eyes reach the table and linger on the candles and expensive dishes. "You didn't have to do all this for me..." he says, his tone of voice soft but a bit anxious.
You smile and reassure him, "Don't be ridiculous, It's nothing. I just thought I'd make you a nice meal. I've been wanting to cook for someone, and it seemed like a good opportunity." 
He seems to relax once you assure him, though he still seems a bit nervous. He is not used to this, the kindness that you're showing him. It's more than what Leon is used to. He almost looks uncomfortable. 
You take your seat at the table, motioning for him to take his as well. The candles light the room with a warm and dim glow, adding to the pleasant atmosphere of the dinner. Leon sits down at the table, looking at the food with a bit of a smile. He looks nervous still, but there is some kind of small enjoyment on his face. The dinner looks inviting, and Leon seems to be slowly growing comfortable with the situation.
You continue to chat over the delicious dinner, and the conversation flows smoothly for both of you. Leon is enjoying the food and seems to actually be enjoying the conversation. It's the first time you've gone this deep into your friendship with him, and you can't help but feel glad that he is enjoying this night so far.
You both finish eating, and you start putting away the food. You're now standing at your sink as you start washing the dishes, Leon coming over to help and washing the rest of them.
"Let me help you with that, I don't mind at all," Leon says, taking the dishes from you and helping to wash them. "I'm used to doing housework, so I can help finish these with you."
You feel a bit of resistance to the idea, wanting to handle it on your own. But, it seems like Leon is not accepting refusal as an answer. 
Instead, he is taking the dishes from you and helping to wash them himself. There is a sense of kindness and politeness in his voice as if he is offering a helping hand, and you can't bring yourself to deny him. You're not exactly sure what you did to deserve this level of kindness, but you're certainly not complaining.
"Well, thank you. I appreciate the help," You say, giving in and washing the dishes alongside him. "It's no problem really," Leon says, washing the dishes. The two of you scrub away at the dishes, and for a while, there's nothing but the sound of clattering dishes as the water washes over them.
Leon seems more comfortable now, and you notice that he's smiling a bit more as the dishes are cleaned. He does seem a bit restless though, unable to stay still for a long time. Messing with his clothes, bouncing his knee, fiddling with the dishes. The silence is peaceful though, and it's nice to have this small moment with Leon.
You glance over a few times and see Leon's gaze landing on the sharper cutlery, and you notice that he seems to be running his fingers along the sharp edge as if he is contemplating something. It's like he's considering whether or not he should be allowed to use those utensils, as if they're forbidden fruit or something. You can't help but feel a bit uneasy about the way he keeps looking at them. You watch cautiously as he continues to run his fingers along the sharp edge as if testing it out. There's a bit of worry in your mind when it comes to letting him hold these knives, as he seems to be entranced by them in some way. The thought of letting him get near them is making you feel a bit uneasy, but you don't want to be too controlling and tell him he can't touch them.
You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you should say anything at all, but your worry over the situation is too much for you to let go. You finally ask, "Is everything okay?"
Leon stops and turns to face you, his attention returning to you. "Hmm?" Leon hums, and you notice he's snapped out of the trance he was in. "Oh, yeah, everything's alright. I'm just cleaning the knives," he says, holding one up and scrubbing it.
You furrow your brows a bit at that comment, not wanting to push it further than that. If he says things are alright, then you might just have to take him at his word. It's no use pushing it further if he seems to be content, and you don't want to make things awkward or uncomfortable now.
As you finish up your portion of the dishes, you head over to the counter to dry your hands off with the hand towel. You keep glancing over at Leon, and he's still washing the dishes too. You're feeling ready to rest, but it seems like Leon is just finishing up his portion now. You watch him for a few moments as he finishes up the cutlery, wondering how much longer he'll take.
"I really do want to thank you." Leon suddenly says, the shift in his tone causes you to freeze a little bit, your brow twitching slightly at the ominous undertones it brings with it. You wonder what could have caused this change in the tone of his voice. The sudden seriousness that has come over him is unsettling, and it's almost as if he sees you in a different light now.
"You've been so nice to me, I can't help but feel touched," he says, still looking down at the dishes he's cleaning. This shift is alarming, especially with the way he's not even looking at you anymore.
You laugh awkwardly, trying to pass off his words with a joke. "No need to get all sappy on me," you echo back, hoping that he'll laugh along with you.
"Just wanted us to talk more, have a nice dinner between friends…" You repeat back in an attempt to be lighthearted and not make the situation too awkward.
"A friend, hm?" he says, finally taking his eyes off the dishes and looking up at you now. His gaze is almost piercing, and you can feel that he is studying you with his full attention. The way he's looking at you now makes you feel exposed, almost like he can find some hidden flaw with just one glance. His stare is almost piercing, and you feel like you're being studied from every angle. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you, and what he could be thinking right now.
"Well, we are friends," you reply back, feeling quite uneasy with the way he is looking at you. You don't like the way he's studying you like this, as if he's trying to find something wrong with you.
"That's what I've considered you as this entire time," you continue, trying to keep the sour feelings at bay.
Leon's gaze shifts and his entire demeanor changes in a jarring way. One moment he was focused on the dishes, and the next he was looking at you with an intense gaze that sends chills down your spine. You stare back at him with hesitation, and in just a split second you can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of uneasiness wash over you when you see him looking at you like this.
The silence between you two is thick as you stare at each other, and it's as if everything else in the world has stopped. You can't help but feel a sharp feeling of nervousness building inside you, making it feel almost as if you're in the presence of danger. You can't place exactly what changed about him, or what caused this shift in his demeanor. 
His laugh echoes in your ears, but the low and rumbling sound only serves to further distress you. This whole situation is unsettling and it's making you question everything. The whole time you thought you were simply having a nice dinner with a friend, but it appears the situation is a bit more intense than you thought.
"Is that what you think this is?" he asks you, raising an eyebrow.
"This friendship?" you ask, and you feel a bit taken off guard by the question. You stare back at him, your eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. 
"What do you mean?"
"Is that what you think this is?" he asks again, and this time his tone is darker. You can't help but feel uncomfortable with the way he's looking at you when he says those words. It's as if he's challenging you in some way, and the vibe of him seems to have changed.
You can feel a mixture of confusion and anger wash over you as you narrow your eyes at Leon. You feel like he is implying something different, and you don't like it at all.
"That's all I think you are at the moment, nothing more," you reply, trying to keep your cool. You don't like the way this conversation is going, and you don't want to get too frustrated and ruin everything.
"Well, I'm sorry if you aren't satisfied with that outcome," Leon replies, his tone taking on a more ominous feel to it. Your confusion is growing at this point because everything he's saying seems to carry a deeper message. "But I dont think you understand what you're saying..."
"What do you mean by that?" you reply, feeling like the conversation is getting a bit intense now. The way he's talking has taken on a more ominous feel to it, and you can't help but feel a bit uneasy now.
"I dont understand what I'm saying?" you echo back, looking at him with a cautious expression. You're not sure what he means by that, but you're starting to get a bad feeling in your gut.
"I think you're just confused is all." He replies nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.
You can't help but feel a moment of frustration when he replies with a casual shrug. Was he just messing around with you? Was that threat in his words supposed to be some kind of joke?
"Confused?" you repeat back, but there's a bit of a frown on your face now. You're starting to feel more than just a bit confused, as he seems to be toying with your emotions. You're not sure what game he's playing at, but it's starting to bother you.
"Okay, I dont understand what's going on here. But I'm not comfortable with you being in my house anymore, I think you should leave." You say, shaking your head, shifting your weight back and forth as you speak, the motion soothing you. 
He seems taken aback by this sudden dismissal, his expression darkening somewhat as he looks at you with a look of surprise and something else. It's like he's trying to hide his anger, but you can't help but feel the threat of it lurking in his eyes.
"I'm not leaving," he replies, his tone shifting back to one of arrogance. He doesn't care that you're not comfortable with this situation, instead, he's demanding that this conversation continue. 
You feel like you're being backed into a corner, and the thought of being forced to engage with this anymore is making you feel uneasy.
"I said you should leave." You repeat yourself, doubling down on your decision.
"No, you should think things through and realize that you want me here." He says, his tone shifting from one of arrogance back to a threatening aura. It's a bit unsettling how quickly he shifted to this, with such a demanding tone. The conversation shifts in tone once again, and he is back to being arrogant and demanding. He doesn't plan to leave just because you told him to, and you're starting to feel uncomfortable with being in this situation with a person so hostile and unyielding.
You quickly size him up, your eyes widening when you spot the tightly gripped knife in his hand. The sudden change in his attitude and that tight grip on the knife make all the pieces click together for you, and suddenly everything makes sense. Your instincts take over, and you become alert to being in a potentially dangerous situation.
Leon notices your shock and tries to take advantage of it, lunging at you with the knife, aiming for your stomach. The sudden lunge catches you off-guard, and you flinch at the action. You can't help but start to feel a rush of fear as the knife aims for your stomach. 
You react quickly, dodging out of the way and punching him square in the jaw, sending him flying towards the floor. 
You scramble away and run as fast as you can in the direction of your bedroom, closing the door behind you and locking it tight. 
The adrenaline coursing through your veins makes your heart beat faster with every step, and you can feel your breath coming out in quick, shaky breaths.
You look around your room in a frenzy, using your new found strength to push your dresser in front of the door. You’re sure any police officer knows how to pick a lock, especially the basic ones that are in these old houses. In a panic, you try to find a place to hide and scan the room for somewhere to hide, your eyes landing on your closet. 
You move toward the closet, and you're careful to open and shut the door slowly. The inside of the closet is dark and cramped, making it feel more creepy than comforting. You try to ignore the feeling of claustrophobia that is creeping into you, and you duck down as you pull the door closed behind you.
The moment you duck into the closet, you hear the sounds of footsteps rushing up the stairs. You realize that your bedroom is the last room in the hallway, which means it could take him a while before he reaches you. 
But, he's going to get to you eventually and you start feeling a bit of panic in the back of your mind.
Would anyone find you when he reaches you? Could you be recognizable to the poor neighbor who finds your body when he’s done? 
You begin to get more and more anxious as the footsteps draw closer, the tension and fear of waiting for the inevitable reaching a fever pitch. 
You sit there in the closet, hiding and waiting in the darkness. You know that the longer this goes on, the more danger you're in, and you can't help but shake slightly at the thought.
You hear the slam of the guest room's door as it burst open, followed by the quiet sounds of rustling that fill your ears as he searches the room. It's an eerie noise, and it sends shivers down your spine as you realize he's getting closer to you. You clutch your hands, trying to keep your breathing quiet and steady as he gets closer.
The silence is overwhelming, as you try everything you can not to make a sound. You hold your breath as you hear Leon searching in the bathroom now, the rustling sound of the curtain pulling back catching your attention, your racing heartbeat growing stronger and louder as he gets closer. The tension is building, and the thought of him finding you is causing you more distress than you would like to admit.
You can hear the chuckle of Leon's voice as he reaches your bedroom door, and you hold your breath even tighter. He's getting so close now, and you can feel yourself starting to tremble with fear. His voice carries with it a sense of dominance and arrogance, and you can almost imagine the smirk he's giving you right now.
You clench your fists tightly as you hear Leon's voice talking to you through the door.
"I know you're in there. Why are you hiding? Do you think it'll help you?" he says, his voice sounding smug and superior. He sounds like he's enjoying this situation a bit too much, and your heart starts pounding in your chest as you hear the confidence in his voice.
The silence is almost deafening when you don’t respond, and you sit there listening to your rapid heartbeat and your slow breathing. There's so much tension in the air, and you feel like your heartbeat is going to explode out of your chest. 
The silence lasts for what seems like an eternity, but you close your eyes tight, hoping that he'll just give in and leave you alone. And, it seems your prayers are answered, and there's only silence for a few moments before the sound of footsteps heading down the stairs makes you sigh of relief. 
You sit in the closet, letting out a sigh of relief when you hear the footsteps heading down the stairs instead of coming toward your closet door. The tension is starting to ebb slightly, and you feel an overwhelming sense of relief wash over you. You feel like you can finally breathe again, and you start to slow your breathing as you try to calm down.
The sound of the dresser scraping against the floor escapes your notice as you try to take deep breaths and calm yourself down. You miss the sound of the footsteps moving toward the door, letting your heart beat faster as you bury your head into your hands. You miss the subtle noises that would have warned you of what was coming. 
When he rips open the closet door, you let out a sharp gasp and freeze, staring up at him in fear as he stares back with that smug expression on his face.
"Found you."
-
word count: 10k
If you wanted the dinner to go differently :)
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anon asked:
Hi! It says on your description thing that your requests are open? ( I’m sorry for this if they’re closed :’) )
I read your request rules and it said you take poly kiribaku and I was wondering if you could write a scenario of kiribaku with a fashion designer reader? reader makes them suits and an outfit for themselves from scratch for an event? Just kinda funny fluffy stuff with reader slowly getting more annoyed at them not cooperating ( mainly Bakugou cause he’s Bakugou lol ) but still managing to finish and make them cool suits and an outfit for themselves too :)
I’ve had this lil idea in my head for months now and I love your writing, so if you think you could do something with this I’d be very happy :)) ( sorry for the long request, if you don’t want to write this I wouldn’t mind, also sorry again if your requests are closed :’) )
thank you! :))
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a/n: so sorry its a bit short anon, but i did what i could!
w.count: 1.1k
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your office was currently a mess. an organized mess but a mess nonetheless and katsuki made sure you knew that by his sneering. it wasn't unusual for either of your boyfriends' to stop by your workplace for various reasons. forgot your lunch, bringing you papers you needed, maybe repairs to their hero suits since your stitching 'holds up better than others'. still, this time you were the one to strong-arm them into both coming by. or rather, strong-arm katsuki, since eijirou had no issues in popping by when you called.
your work office was filled with used and unused mannequins, your main desk, a separate desk littered with fabric scraps, your sewing machines, and straight pens left, right, and center. there was also a quiant little loveseat with two comfortable cushions you have for visiting clients.
that very loveseat is where both your boyfriends' currently parked their asses. you standing in front of them with your hands on your hips and a tape measure gripped in your palm.
"i dont see why we need all new shit," katsuki groans, his arms on the back of the loveseat, looking away from your unimpressed scowl. eijiou curls his lips in to try- and fail- to conceal the amused look on his face.
you had called them both here because of the next hero gala. the dates were finally sent out to those permitted to attend, and both of their names were on the roster. of course, they would be going- mostly because katsuki's pr team begged him to- and since they got to bring plus ones along, you would also be with them.
the two of them have always been wearing store bought formal wear or renting suits, but this was literally your area of expertise! you would get measurements from the two of them if it was the last thing youd do before making them outfits they can freely keep for such occasions.
eijirou had no qualms about the whole process. in fact, his measurements went smoothly aside from him flexing his arms when you were trying to get their circumference.
"yes, you're very muscular babe, now relax your arm or so help me," was what he got in return to his playful tomfoolery. checking off his waist and hips was also filled with banter since at least three times he had hugged you and kept joking about how he wasn't just going to not when you were right in front of him. that would be far too many wasted opportunities.
katsuki had been scrolling on his phone the whole time eijirou was prolonging his process by playing harmless pranks and showering you in goofy affection as he does. you almost wished you had measured him last to get the stubborn fool that is katsuki over with first though.
now, here you stand, impatiently waiting for him to get his ass up and get started.
"katsuki," you warn, his head tipping back in a groan. "i've got all day," you tell him as if you weren't bothered in the slightest. you were though, and annoyed to boot. while you did in fact have time, that doesn't mean you want it to be wasted in a battle of wits.
"what's the damn point of taking measurements? we've got plenty of shit at home to wear."
"no, you don't. I do, but you guys have nothing properly formal enough for a gala, and im sick of renting suits when i can just make something and save some money in the process. do you know how expensive it is to rent a suit? no, because you're loaded, so up."
"i did enough of this kinda shit growin' up, i aint dealing with it when im not even livin' with my folks anymore."
you roll your tongue across your teeth, squeezing the space between your eyes with your fingers and holding yourself back.
"come on, kats, don't be such a fun sponge," eijirou tries to help. knocking him lightly in the side with his elbow, katsuki just huffs and looks at the nearest clock as if gauging when your workday was supposed to end and how long he can keep this up.
"fine," you heave, tossing your measuring tape at his chest before it flops onto his legs. "have it your way."
"that's what I tho-"
"I'll just call mitsuki and she can give me your measurements." there was a slight pause after your claim settles into the air you three occupy.
"what?" he almost sounded like he didn't believe you. but oh how serious you are.
"go on, shoo." you walk back towards your main desk with your computer and grab your purse where you start digging around for your phone. "i have a phone call to make, so go somewhere else if you're not going to be useful. oh, eijirou you can stay though if you want."
"hey!" katsuki, pulling his arms off the back of the couch, both offended that he was being kicked out while his boyfriend got to stay and miffed because- were seriously going to call his mom? over his measurements? god, who knows what else could come out of that hag's mouth if you call her asking for that. the last thing he needed was you and his mother commenting on how small his waist was or worse.
you plant yourself in your desk chair and pull over a notepad and pen to write down the oncoming numbers you would be getting one way or the other. katsuki springs from the loveseat when he sees the phone line start dialing from across the room against your cheek.
the phone rings twice and you're ready to apologize for calling in the middle of the work day when she picks up, but before you could your phone was ripped from your hand and away from your cheek.
"wha- katsuki!" you utter in disbelief.
"ignore this," he huffs before hanging up the call and tossing your tape measure into your face.
"take your stupid ass measurements, but you don't get this back for a while." the blond tosses your phone over to kirishima who had been gleefully watching the free entertainment. the red head catches it easily and safely tucks it into his pocket.
"traitor," you send his way across the room and he just shrugs.
"sorry, boyfriend's orders."
"that's right," katsuki backs him up with his arms crossed and you return the sentiment by jabbing him in the side with the back of your pen. "now hurry up, this offer expires soon."
"i hate you," you groan as you get up and untangle your measuring tape to start the process of finally getting what you needed.
"no you don't."
"i wish i did."
"liar."
"shut up, im concentrating."
he hates to admit it, but the group of coordinating matching outfits you three all wear to the gala weeks later was totally worth pushing your buttons for. plus, it was cute to rile you up sometimes.
(mitsuki did call his cell later that day to explain why it's incredibly rude to hang up on his mother. he hung up on her again.)
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iwillbringyouruin · 8 months
Text
Radskier dialogue nuances in different languages
So I have been rewatching The Witcher in French recently and some of the changed lines stuck out to me, in the interactions between Radovid and Jaskier in particular. So i figured I'd compile my favourites from the translated versions I've seen so far here and compare their meaning to the original. I've also included some of the German lines since I'm German and I got curious!
Disclaimer: I'm just a guy who speaks a bunch of languages, don't expect overly technical linguistic wizardry here. Also this is not about the voice actors' skill or how well the lines are matched up to lip movements, strictly about the little changes in meaning when you take the translations literally! All meant to be in good fun.
Since this is about the season 3 dialogue, there are spoilers ahead.
This is going to be a long post so buckle up!
Season 3 in general: The way Jaskier and Radovid address one another
English (original): both use "you" which makes sense of course
French: Jaskier uses "vous" (the formal "you") for Radovid and Radovid uses "tu" (the casual "you") for Jaskier until they have sex in episode 4. When they talk the morning after in episode 6, they're both using "tu".
German: both use "Ihr" and the other formal derivatives for one another throughout (Even Geralt and Jaskier address each other formally the whole time. I'm not a fan)
Episode 1: Jaskier and Radovid meet
The dialogue here is generally very close, just two little things between the original and the German version I want to point out.
English (Jaskier): Fuck, I don’t really know what I’m supposed to… Bow? Or curtsy, or… I’ve been holding your hand a long time, so sorry about that.
German (Jaskier): Shit, I don't know if I'm supposed to bow or be polite... I've been holding your hand for too long, forgive me ("bow or be polite"?? HUH?)
English (Radovid): If your time at court’s been staid, you’ve been doing it wrong
German (Radovid): If your time at court has been too calm/quiet, something went wrong ([gay silence])
Episode 2: specifically Extraordinary Things
I've put the different lyrics as rather direct translations in the pictures below. They're also written out in the alt text. The French ones are a little more pointed compared to the original imo, I like that version a lot. I'm not sure how I feel about the German version but the first line did make me giggle.
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Episode 3: Jaskier talks to Vespula about Radovid
I love this scene for many reasons. I have two things to point out about this.
The first thing is that while in the English and French version, Jaskier says that he and Radovid have only met twice, in the German version he says that he and Radovid don't even know each other.
The second thing is that in the English and German version, Jaskier calls Radovid a spoon and he does in the French version as well. However, he specifies Radovid is a "little spoon" here. Need I say more?
Episode 4: the scene in the shed
Ah, the scene of all time. Before the other scene of all time in episode 6. A few things about this one. The first thing is a very small change in the French version:
English (Jaskier, after Radovid admits he's scared): Just saying that makes you braver than you know.
French (Jaskier, after Radovid admits he's scared): The fact you're admitting that proves you are brave
The second thing bothered me more because it isn't really a subtle change. Both in English and French, Jaskier says Radovid has "learned [his] song", but in German he says Radovid "knows [his] song". The German line here isn't saying that Radovid "knows" the song as in he knows how to play it (from hearing and watching Jaskier play it for him once, mind you), the way it's said makes it sound like Radovid has just heard the song before.
The third thing is what they're saying right after the kiss. Unfortunately with the slightly changed lines for Jaskier we don't get the clever connection between Jaskier talking about taking Radovid into the cabin and Radovid asking Jaskier to take him (sexually).
English (Jaskier): I can't take you inside, I'm sorry.
English (Radovid): Then take me here.
French (Jaskier): The cabin is occupied, I'm sorry.
French (Radovid): Then take me here.
German (Jaskier): We can't go inside, I'm sorry.
German (Radovid): Then take me here.
Episode 6: the morning after
The German version is the same as the original here.
English (Jaskier to Radovid): I thought I’d seen through your mask. Turns out there was nothing behind it.
French (Jaskier to Radovid): I thought I had lifted the veil from your soul. But I found nothing but darkness beneath that façade
The subtle differences in the French version on the other hand not only make the pain a little different, it also includes an allusion of sorts to that version of Extraordinary Things with Jaskier talking about Radovid's soul. At least that's how I saw it. Ouch!
Episode 7: the moment where Jaskier finds Radovid at Thanedd
All three versions here make me want to cry. That's all.
English (Radovid): Just let me be there with you. Prove that I’m more than a mask.
English (Jaskier): Maybe.
French (Radovid): Just let me stay with you and show you what is beneath this façade.
French (Jaskier): Why not.
German (Radovid): Just let me be with you and show my true self.
German (Jaskier): Maybe.
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ingravinoveritas · 6 months
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Hi! need some reassurance here. Am i the only one who is sad because we don’t know if we are gonna to see Michael and David working together again? Between the strike (which I totally support) and amazon not renewing GO, nothing is certain right now. I just miss them, i miss the interviews and i need new content. Note aside, I really don’t like the personal content that GT is posting on IG, like the video of David at the festival. Maybe it’s because I’m still new to the fandom and I’m not British, so i’ve a very different kind of humor, but her content somehow irk me… I don’t know. And don’t let me start talking about AL: she seems so phony and rude and i get nothing but bad vibes from her. Why does she always mock Michael’s appearance? I know, it’s none of my business 😅 So yeah… sorry about the rant!
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Hi there! Grouping these together, since I'm a bit overdue in addressing some of this.
So as of this writing, the WGA strike has been resolved (hooray!) and the writers are back to work (including Neil, whom I believe is returning to writing GO season 3). SAG-AFTRA (of which Michael and David are both members) is continuing its strike, however, but hopefully it will also be resolved soon.
That said, I am definitely with you in feeling sad about not knowing when Michael and David will work together again. I believe the renewal for S3 is still pending, so it is indeed a time of uncertainty. My hope is that if/when the SAG strike is resolved, we might perhaps get some interviews with Michael and David that we otherwise were unable to get when GO 2 first came out. It may be too late to promote the season, of course, but we have to remember that earlier this year, Michael was popping up on nearly all of David's TV appearances (The Last Leg, Have I Got News For You), so even if a formal project isn't currently in the works, it hopefully won't be too long before we have the chance to see them together again.
To the rest of your Ask and @phantomstars24's, I've had multiple people asking me about what happened with Anna and her being called out, so for those who might've missed it, what occurred was that two weeks ago, someone left a comment on one of AL's Insta posts (the one with the photos from the "family holiday" in Sweden the weekend prior) calling her out for her repeated comments about Michael's appearance over the last few years:
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Several comments from people defending AL/attacking the commenter followed these, and the next morning, she responded with this comment (not on the chain of already existing comments, but separately):
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My initial impression was to be surprised that she responded at all. If the callout commenter's words truly meant nothing and weren't worth responding to, why say anything? But AL chose to reply, and that was her decision, so here we are. What is strange to me, though, is that she also chose to flat-out lie about something easily provable, given that her comments about Michael's appearance have all been well-documented on her Insta and Twitter over the past three years.
The second thought that came to mind is that this seemed like another attempt on her part at being Georgia--i.e., wanting/trying to give a witty "clapback" to a criticism. Instead, her comment comes across as insecure and insincere, with "magnificent hair growth" being a particularly egregious example of laying it on thick (who even talks like that? No one talks like that.). I was truly surprised to realize this comment was written by an almost 30-year-old woman, as it reads more like a teenager having a fit--though in fairness, there are plenty of teenagers who are far more mature than this.
There is also the notion that we are or somehow should be jealous of the "banter" in her and Michael's relationship, except that this misses two key points. One, that it's one thing for Michael to be self-deprecating about his looks--and that even if he is, it doesn't mean he doesn't feel hurt and is therefore possibly making those comments as a deflection--but it's something else entirely for her to make them. It speaks volumes about her character that she would see/hear him saying these things about himself and instead of wondering if he is okay, decides that it gives her the go-ahead to add to it and snark about his appearance. So many of us have felt self-conscious about our looks at one time or another, but without any response from him, it comes across less like "mutual banter" and more like "one person progressively making passive-aggressive cutting comments over time about the other." Which brings us to the second key point, which is that "in-jokes" are only funny to the people who are in on them, and similarly, banter is only mutual if we are able to see his end of it. The problem is, we never do. Michael does not interact with her on social media (even from his "private account," which many of us have known about for years, as he used to use it to interact with Kate, Sarah, and Lily all the time, yet he doesn't use it to interact with AL, for some reason).
Curiously, this would have been a perfect moment for Michael to do exactly that, or to say something on Twitter in her defense. Of course it is entirely possible that he felt he didn't need to say anything--which is his prerogative, just as it was AL's prerogative to respond. But it's quite interesting to realize that at the same exact time AL wrote that comment, Michael was on Twitter talking about touching David's chest and referring to him as the Thin Dark Duke, and then kept tweeting about GO fandom stuff for the next three hours. Choices.
All this to say that, in my opinion, there was nothing genuine or graceful about AL's comment. And again, you could say well sure, she felt attacked, so there was no obligation to stand on ceremony or mince words. It's just interesting that her comment went in the direction of defensive and sarcastic instead of saying something like, "Michael and I love each other and can handle a bit of teasing." And I truly do hope Michael's fans who rushed to her defense take a step back and realize that she is not a nice person. This is not how a nice person, regardless of who they are dating, talks to other human beings. And she will never reply to them or thank them for doing so because to her, they are a means to an end.
In any case, there was a recap of the callout/clapback situation with AL, for anyone who missed it. To your comments @nightingalecottage, please do not apologize for ranting. As I've said before, I want my blog to be somewhere folks can have these discussions calmly and civilly, and I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to message me with your thoughts. And as always, I'm very aware that I could be wrong about all of this, so I urge folks to read what is here and decide for themselves. Thanks for writing in! x
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ceratonia-siliqua · 3 months
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Hi! Super weird question to ask, but, I was wondering if you were the person that wrote a fan fic of Bucky/Peter called “Forever.” On Ao3? If so, I always wanted to know what happened to that fic, because it was literally the best of literature I’ve read on Bucky/Peter. It was so good that I would go back to read it again, and I was wondering if you still had that fic, or if something happened to it, I just wanted to know because it still eats me up to this day that I can’t read it no more 😭. Also if this isn’t who I think it is, then I’m sorry please ignore this!
Hi!!! I'm not sure how old this message is but yes, I am the person who wrote Forever. The reason it got deleted was actually not by my choice. The coauthor was found out to be lying about faking a terminal illness and so she deleted her entire account on ao3 and I believe on tumblr as well. Ao3 terminates even coauthored fics if one person decides to remove it so the entire thing was removed and I have just never gotten around to fixing the issue because it was so time consuming and during the aftermath I was still finishing by Bachelor's degree and didn't have time to sort through and make sure I had all the files. Sadly, after checking it looks like all the files were deleted at some point.
But! I do have some good news! Ao3 emailed me some documentation of the original fic so I do have a readable version, it's just not formally posted anymore. I keep telling myself I'll get around to reposting it and so I haven't released the link but I have a feeling I might never get to it so here's the link since I feel bad its been hidden in a backroom for so long.
It is the story in its entirety and pretty much all the original information. Really the biggest hurdle to me posting it on ao3 has been needing to divvy things up into chapters and do all the tagging again.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Let me know if the link works. I tested it while logged out to make sure you didn't need to be signed into my throw away account to access the info and it seemed fine but confirmation doesn't hurt.
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runnning-outof-time · 8 months
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So I’m a few hours removed from my Oppenheimer viewing experience, and if I had to sum the movie up in three words they’d be: intense, moving, and WOW.
I’ve got a bit more to say about it, but I’ll put it under the cut so as to avoid spoilers:
Ok so first off I want to say that I’m really not the best at film typed analysis…I’m rather just a fan who enjoys movies and then just wants to have chats about them, so I’m not going to be the one to analyze the characters/the aspects shown in the film…instead I’m just going to comment on the elements/parts that stuck with me. I hope that’s alright with y’all - please don’t come for me. With that being said…here we go (sorry for the rambles to come - this turned into a long post y’all):
I loved how it was sequenced and shot - the whole cutting back to Strauss in his hearing and seeing what’s happening there and then focusing on Oppenheimer’s life, and the hearing that he also went through, made the film more exciting to me … it’s like we’d be getting these pieces of information through a formal lense and then we’d get to see it play out how it happened. And then the big reveal of how Strauss was actually related in regards to Oppenheimer was amazingly done as well - it was cool to see the shift in the story once that information was given to the viewer as well.
Speaking of Strauss - RDJ acted his ass off in this film. My mom said that she didn’t even recognize him, and tbh I wouldn’t have either had I not known he was in the film prior to seeing it. He portrayed Strauss in such a clever way…I felt like his intentions behind the great scheme of things really went unknown until the information came out that he was one of the major actors behind Oppenheimer getting his clearances revoked. And like I said, it felt like the whole energy of the film shifted once this knowledge came out and he handled that beautifully.
Cillian was amazing…of course. He really made the role look easy. And I know that’s silly of me to say because we all know that it was the furthest thing from it, but I think that that’s just a testament to how great of an actor Cillian is - he makes these intense rolls just look easy. I compared this performance to Leo in The Revenant in an ask a few days ago and I honestly stand behind that — this movie wouldn’t be half of what it came out to be if there had been any other person in the main role. Cillian carried this movie, and he did it with the utmost grace. My mom and I were talking about it just a bit ago and she brought up the great point that there were only maybe a handful of scenes that he wasn’t in…and in the scenes that he was in, you could really feel the weight of his performance. I’d honestly be shocked if he doesn’t get any nominations for this - I’m not sure if there could be as perfect of a storm as this role was for him.
The ending held the most weight for me, I think … it was so cool to finally see what he and Einstein were actually speaking about at the pond (another amazing choice in structure) and oh boy did that conversation rock me — those words are so true, especially in the scope of history and how people are remembered/legacies play out. It was a stark and honestly perfect ending for the film.
Also another thing that I just couldn’t get out of my mind was how human the movie was. Like it’s so cool to see how people reacted to certain things and it’s one of the most fascinating ways to look at history — take the Trinity Test for example (which by the way…damn. Wow) their initial reaction to it being successful was to cheer because during that time it meant that the US was going to be back on top with the arms race and now hold this power to essentially bring the fighting to an explosive end. But looking back on what came out of that successful test, the mood really isn’t as cheerful and exuberant. Same thing with the rallie after the bombs were dropped — there was much revelation because of how the war turned out and not much care for the carnage that had occurred due to that event happening. It’s not only until the years roll on and history gets written that we start to look at the other viewpoints and how each and every side reacted to/was effected by such events. I think the movie did an excellent job at showing how human people are - how they’re quick to react with their own thoughts and agenda first before considering it all … and I liked how the shift in Oppenheimer’s views became apparent once news of the bomb being dropped came out - it was clear that the real life effects of it were at the forefront in his mind and he was already grappling with it.
One more thing I just have to point out is the ladies in the film - Florence and Emily did amazing at portraying Jean and Kitty!! Even though Flo’s part was small, you really felt the impact of her scenes (even if she was naked in nearly all of them) - you can so clearly see the impact Jean had on Oppenheimer’s life just from those few scenes. And then Emily and her portrayal of Kitty was so well done, espeically in the later scenes, specifically the one where she was being questioned — I was like damn, you go girl!! Their relationship was so, so interesting to see and I think that Cillian and Emily did amazing at showing it. I also just had to think of Lauren ( @emotionalcadaver ) ‘s response to those commenting saying that Kitty had no arc — you’re absolutely right in saying that it’s perfectly fine that she didn’t because she’s a REAL PERSON … this is how this woman lived and reacted to the events she was placed into. She was one of the stand out characters in the movie for me partly because she didn’t show growth…she stayed stagnant and then responded to things thrown at her, much like a real person would.
Welp…I said that I’d ramble on about this - I’m really sorry for having made you read an actual essay, and if you’ve made it this far down, I really commend you for doing so. This was one of the best films I’ve seen in a while (it’s immediately going right up there with The Revenant and 1917) and it’s certainly the first that I’ve written this kind of a response to. I honestly would have been happy with watching another two hours of it, and it really didn’t feel like three hours passed by - that’s how good it was.
I’d love to hear what y’all thought of it if you saw it, and you’re absolutely amazing if you’ve read down this far — thanks for coming to my Ted Talk, I guess.
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A Flicker Of Hunger.
-Summary: Harry panics when the love isn’t as exciting as it used to be, an old friend makes his way to comfort you and something new blossoms.
A/N - UNEDITED. I grew frustrated with tumblr deleting this one. Rushed toward the end.
Reader Pronouns: She/Her
Length: Long
TW: Throwing up, Emotional breakdowns, Drinking, Minor drug use (Weed)
Celebrities: Harry Styles, Niall Horan
Song(s) To Listen To: Flicker - Niall Horan. Hunger - Harry Styles.
It’s not that Harry didn’t love you. Just…not like before. He was young, and if he were extremely honest - very, very scared. He felt his youth would be escaping himself soon and then maybe he wouldn’t be able to make changes to the world like he so desperately wanted.
It all started out quite lovely, really. You had loved the X-Factor, following it religiously, and it just so happens that you were there on the day of that fateful grouping of the boys. That’s how you met the sea-green eyed prince.
You had bumped into him on your way in to get seated, colliding with his scrawny back, “God, I’m so sorry-“
He turned around slowly, eyes landing on you, making you freeze, even more so when he smiled, revealing his dimples, “‘S no worry at all. Ya alright?”
He spoke slowly, softly, eyes half-lidded as you nodded before he bit his lip, “Erm, could ya help me? I’m lookin’ for this place here.”
He brought down a map to your level, pointing to backstage, “Oh! You’re a performer?”
“Yeah, actually,” He chuckled, “I’m quite nervous.”
His accent was thick and lovely, making you smile, “I’ll help you…”
You waited for him to finish the sentence, “Harry,” He replied, “Styles.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Styles.”
With that, you navigated him toward the camera crew, dropping him off there, “This is it.”
“Thank you,” He nodded toward you, “I never caught your name?”
“Ah,” You smiled, admiring the pretty boy, “Meet me again and I’ll tell you, yeah?”
“Challenge accepted,” He finished, “I hope to see you soon.”
“We’ll see. I’ll be watching out for you,” Truthfully, you wanted his number but were far too shy, “Just remember me when you’re famous.”
A time passed and you found yourself there again, a ticket to sit in the front seat, ultimately upset when Harry was pulled from the competition. Of course, he impressed everyone without much work - he was handsome, could sing and dance, and had just the right soft personality for the next big star, but it seemed then that maybe he just wasn’t enough.
You stumbled out of the auditorium, one of the last people to leave, waiting for your boyfriend at the entrance. Waiting outside the men’s bathrooms, one after another, the five boys you had watched on stage stumbled out.
Harry nearly bumped into you, “Oh, ‘m so sorry!” He exclaimed, a blonde colliding into his back. You recognized him as Niall Horan, another contestant.
“It’s okay. You got me back for what I did last time,” You giggled softly at the taller boy, admiring his politeness.
“Mystery girl!” He exclaimed, a wide smile on his face, “I’ve been looking for you. You came.”
“Of course I did. I’m sorry about not making it through,” You sighed, “I thought you were great.”
“Ah, ‘s alright,” He continued as his friends chatted among themselves, “Did I do good enough to earn your name? Perhaps your number?”
You smiled, “I’d say so. (Y/N),” You mocked his initial introduction, “(L/N).”
“Nice to formally meet you, (Y/N) (L/N).”
With some embarrassing flirting that caused the boys to leave and ended with your number on his hand, he turned to you as he was leaving, “Expect a call tonight.”
And he was true to his word. From then on, every night, there was a call. Sometimes from random numbers you had saved since then - Liam, Louis, Niall, Zain (or as he preferred, Zayn). And there began your friendship. It wasn’t long before friendship and business intertwined with the group picking up on your talent for writing lyrics.
It felt like a dream, to say the least. You were invited to parties now - to public events, press meetings, studio sessions, even sleepovers. Of course, you wouldn’t be here, bawling your eyes out if everything stayed perfect.
As your father always said:
Nostalgia is a dirty liar.
It was the little things at first. The way he tucked his hair behind his ear when he was nervous, the way he bounced his leg restlessly no matter where he was sitting, his oddly wide smile for someone so stoic, his love for cheesy romance movies, the way he always knew what to say, especially when he helped you through a rough break up.
Not long after did it take you to realize that there was something brewing, feeding the butterflies in your stomach that always came around when Harry was there.
So it hurt more when Harry began dating again, this time, a 31 year old. Someone more mature and full of experience. Someone who made you insecure.
On this particular night, he was out with her, and Niall had invited you over to spend time with his family who seemed to love you very much. The two of you sat in the cozy living room, watching as the fireplace tried desperately to warm the winter air. A cheesy horror movie happened to be on and Niall’s mop-headed dog sat comfortably between the two of you, resting his head on your lap and his tail on Niall’s.
Somehow, though, you couldn’t stop thinking about Harry.
“You should tell Hazza how you feel,” Niall suddenly said, noticing your distant demeanor, “I think you’d be surprised with the outcome.”
“What are you talking about?” You were quick to respond, prepared to defend yourself to death.
“(Y/N), lass, you can’t be serious,” He chuckled, shaking his head and turning to face you, his oversized Christmas sweater moving with him, “Everyone sees it.”
“Huh?” You faced him now, too, scared of what he was going to say.
“You threw up when you found out he was dating someone,” Niall said simply, a small smirk on his face as if to say ‘I got you there!’
“Whatever,” You groaned, knowing there was no way out of this, “Even so, what makes you think he’d feel the same way about me?”
Silence filled the room for a bit, excluding the crackling fire before he broke it abruptly, “I was going to ask you out.”
You turned red instantly, struggling to find the words.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” He cut you off, smiling, “We all wanted to.”
“Really?“ Bewilderment took you.
“Mhm,” The artificial blonde hummed, “But he refused. Was awfully protective of ya. Kept him up at night thinking about us askin’ you.”
You thought for a moment before he continued, “Anyway, you better get with him. We all made bets on it, MG.” He referenced your nickname - Mystery Girl, since Harry had refused to share your name with them for a while.
You blushed again, only this time out of embarrassment, “I hate you, Horan!”
Grabbing a couch pillow, you playfully smacked him with it, and before long it turned into a full-blown pillow fight.
Unsurprisingly, it took long before you ever did confess your feelings to Harry. It was long after he had released his debut album and had just won the hearts of so many girls and boys all over the world. The two of you were throwing a two-person party to celebrate its release and his growing from his latest ex who’s name you couldn’t even remember anymore.
The night had been spent in laughter, constant trips to the bathroom where you left the door open so you could puff and pass the joint and the bottle, and chatting about lives.
“Do you think that there’s a reason for all of this?” He slurred, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling.
“About what, Hazza?” You never let that nickname go.
“Like…life….like…” He sat up and faced you, leaning against his couch, copying your position, a little closer than he intended to be, “Like fo’ reasons…Like fo’ wearin’ mix-matched socks an’ everythin’.”
Both of you shit-faced and cross faded, you smiled at him doozily, a moment of silence filling the room. His eyes always swallowed you in, even when half-lidded and red.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” It came out smoothly, finally releasing tention you’d had for years.
Something washed over him too in that moment, like he’d been waiting his whole life to hear that from you and without much warning, the two of you crashed lips on each other, arms tangling into the other and the kiss growing more passionate with each waking minute.
That’s where it all started, really. Since then, you’d been dating for nearly two years and engaged for one, and at first things were wonderful - magnificent, even. Harry couldn’t keep himself off of you and vise versa. Every thought of his was about you, even while he was touring, even while girls threw bras and phones and even chicken nuggets at him to show their adoration.
But somewhere along the line, Harry noticed a halt. It was terrifying and the thought of being alone scared him. But he couldn’t look at you the same anymore. Your eyes slowly became less bright and beautiful, merging with everything else normal in his life.
It came to the point where the bed felt empty, even with you in it, and you had noticed this too. You were scared of the idea that your one and only Hazza would leave you, because truly, without him, what would you be? You’d lose everything - hope, your best friend, happiness, the house.
So you just went to bed facing his opposite direction, arms crossed tightly to your chest as he hogged the blanket.
‘Maybe he just bit off more than he could chew with me,’ You thought, staring at the blank wall in front of you, afraid of crying.
How did something so wonderful suddenly break apart?
Before, it was like your natural instinct was to love Harry, you didn’t even have to do anything and the two of you were all over each other. Now, though, he hadn’t even tried to touch you in weeks. Two weeks - 13 days to be exact, you’d counted.
You knew it was coming. But it felt different when it actually happened, especially when it was on his birthday.
“I don’t think this is what’s best for us,” He suddenly said over dinner, eating the pescatarian option you had made for him.
“What do you mean?” You gulped, hands suddenly sweaty.
“Do you feel the same about me like you did three years ago?” He avoided the question, looking at you in the eyes.
“Of course, H. I’ll always love you, I know that much,” Eyebrows furrowed in worry, “What’s wrong, Hazza?”
“I…” Harry darted his eyes toward the floor, “I don’t think I feel that way anymore.”
Your heart froze, making it delicate as ever, “I’m very proud of you for telling me. We’ll work through it, okay? How about couple’s thera-“
“I don’t think I want to try anymore, (Y/N),” Another sudden comment.
And suddenly all those years started to disappear.
“Harry, we’re engaged.”
He winced slightly, hating when you didn’t call him a nickname you’d given him, but composed himself soon after, “Were.”
You can feel the anxiety brewing and your stomach feels like a war zone, knowing you’ll vomit soon.
This can’t be real.
“I was thinking we could figure it out slowly,” He continues, keeping his calm demeanor, “You don’t have to leave now.”
Please don’t let it be real.
“You can leave whenever we figure it out and-“
“Why?” Was all you could muster, your throat itching with the pain of needles pricking at it.
Smoothly, he sighed, “I jus’ don’t feel in love anymore. I don’t want to waste either of our time.”
The singer tried his best to let you down easy, “You’re always gonna be my best friend first, (Y/N). I’ve known you since I was 16, but now I’m thinking that maybe…Maybe what we had was timed. It’s just not the same.”
A small nod, not being able to even speak anymore, you stuttered out, “I know. I’ve seen it and I just was so afraid of losing you - I…”
You took a deep breath in, “I need to use the restroom.”
He didn’t do much to stop you, only calling out to you before you slammed the door to the bathroom shut and spilled the dinner you were having into the toilet, hot tears and snot running down your face.
You hated yourself for letting it get this far. For even thinking that you had a chance with Harry.
The door creaked open to reveal your now ex-lover, worried with his brows furrowed, “Let me-“
He reached for your hair to pull it out of the way, but you scooted away. You didn’t want him to touch you - you were scared you’d fall more in love than you already were.
“Please,” he begged, “Let me just do this once.”
You could never say no to those eyes. Scooting back, you felt his hands in your hair, his other soothing your back. It would have been endearing, really, but it only made you throw up more, thinking if the life you’d be leaving behind - the life that he was erasing.
You insisted you leave that night, taking a suitcase and essentials.
“(Y/N). Stay,” It was almost a beg, but you shook your head, “Where will you even stay if not here?”
“I’ll find somewhere. I just…I don’t want to be here right now,” You sighed, running a hand through your hair.
With some convincing, Harry let you go. He placed his hands on your arms tightly, giving you a small kiss on the cheek, “I’ll see you soon.”
“Yeah,” You replied, looking to the floor, “See you soon.”
And that was the first day of you downfall.
The media caught on soon after, about three weeks after, bombarding you on social media with all kinds of questions.
You sat in your temporary apartment, taking a swig of some liquor you couldn’t even remember the name of before a familiar name popped up on your screen.
NIALLER: (Y/N), holy shit, are you okay?
Truthfully, it had been so long since you’d spoken to someone who was practically a stranger but used to be one of your best friends.
Soon after, he called you and you answered reluctantly, “Hello?” He asked, his voice suddenly bringing you to tears.
“(Y/N)? MG, are you alright?” You sobbed louder, sniffing and slurring your next words.
“Mmm alright, Ny.”
“You’re drunk, aren’t ya?” He sighed, ultimately feeling like he was the one that got you into this mess, “Send me your address. I’m comin’ over.”
“No, no,” You groan, rolling over on your stomach, “Niall, please, I’m fine.”
“(Y/N),” He started again, causing you to protest for a good five minutes before he sighed.
“(Y/N)-“ He began, never really getting to finish what he said.
“Niall, if everyone sees us, what if they make assumptions and I’m just slandered again and I’m really fine I couldn’t care less and-“
“Let me drink with you,” You stopped in your tracks at his offer, “I’ll bring pizza over, yeah?”
The promise of pizza made you cave, and you gave him your address in a heartbeat.
“I’ll be there in 30. Hang in there,” The phone hung up after, leaving you staring at the wall for five more minutes before your blood ran cold.
Fuck.
Niall would be there in 25.
You ran all over the house, petrified, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Throwing some dirty clothes in your laundry room, locking it, you looked everything down before hopping into the shower.
The shower couldn’t have been long, but the bell rang just as you hopped out. Panic set in your bones, “Be there in a minute, Ny!”
You slipped on an oversized sweater, one that actually did belong to Harry and placed some shorts under it, rushing to the door.
With beer and pizza in his hand, he smiled worriedly and more so when you sobbed, hugging him tightly while he did his best to with things in his hands.
“I missed you so much,” By now, it was an ugly cry, missing the warmth of a friend.
You’d isolated yourself this entire time and everyone gave you space which was great, but you craved warmth and love. Taking his sent in, you sighed and wiped your nose with the long sweater.
“Thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for agreeing at pizza,” He teased and finally stepped in, “I’m sorry about everything, darlin’.”
“Ah, it’s whatever,” You led him to the couch where he placed the pizza box on the coffee table.
“It’s not. I hate him for that,” Running a hand through his hair, he smiled at you, “We’ll forget about it just for tonight, okay?”
You nodded, biting your lip to hold your tears in.
The topic of Harry came up a couple of times, especially with the more beers you drank, but it never hurt your mind now. Niall didn’t smoke at all, but wasn’t opposed when you pulled out a bedazzled dab pen and hit it a few times.
He was always a heavyweight, and you weren’t at all surprised when you were off your ass and he just laughed at you.
The night consisted of dancing to old music you hadn’t heard in forever, weird food combinations, trying to outdo each other at gymnastics, and even making fun of Harry.
The playlist had just changed from Usher, causing your dancing to stop as a slow song began to play. As if on instinct, the two of you pulled each other close and danced.
Sighing heavily after your last giggle, you leaned on his dress shirt, his scent making you at peace as you swayed to the music, “Thank you, Ny.”
“It’s no problem, (Y/N).”
You don’t expect much when you look up at the Irish man, but upon your eyes meeting, your heart flutters a bit. You assume it’s the alcohol and shake your head internally. His eyes are just as fixed on you as yours are on him.
“(Y/N)…” He breathes, the name rolling off his tongue like it was the only thing it was made to do.
A best passes, and you partially prepare yourself for his lips to land on yours, but he closed his eyes and smiles to himself before looking back at you, “It’s late. Y’should sleep, darlin’.”
You protest but it ends in a yawn, making him smirk at you in the same way he did way back then.
“Let’s go, sleepyhead, I got cha,” Niall wraps his arms around your waist, supporting you.
He helped you sink into the bed, putting a bucket beside it for the morning before grabbing his keys and pulling the covers over you.
The clock read 2:48 AM and while you knew Niall wasn’t very drunk, you but your lip and asked, “Please don’t leave.”
It was more of a beg, but it didn’t matter anyway. He nodded, “Sure, (Y/N).”
Your eyes are even more half lidded, snuggled under the blankets before realizing something. Without much thought, you slip your sweater off, revealing your black bra underneath, making Niall snap his body in the opposite direction.
You giggled, a mix of THC and alcohol in your veins, “It’s okay, Ny. I trust you. Here.”
He turned slowly, his eyes avoiding your chest, “What’ll you wear?”
Your eyes scan the dresser before they lead up his chest and you notice his collarbone sticking out, “Can I…wear that?”
He takes it from your hand with a nod, “Of course.”
It’s a soft, dark brown dress shirt that somehow feels like the most comfortable thing in the world. Niall faced away from you and unbuttoned his shirt slowly, revealing his bare back to you. You can’t help but stare at his shoulder blades, the dip in his back or the small freckles on his pale skin.
With his eyes closed, he handed you the shirt and pulled on the sweater, sliding out of his pants into his boxers, “Tell me when ya ready.”
You took off your bra and shoved it under the bed, placing the long shirt on you and buttoning it up until five down from the collar, revealing a bit of your chest. You didn’t care, though, you were far too lazy.
“Ready.”
For a moment, it seemed as if Niall froze too, eyes fixated on your skin under his shirt, innocently giant on your small form.
You had a way of making him blush.
He did his best to hide it, sliding into bed with you and putting pillows in between you to divide the bed, something you’d done as teens, too.
“Thank you, Ny.”
“It’s no problem, (Y/N),” Silence filled the air for a minute, “(Y/N)?”
But you had already fallen asleep.
The next morning, you awoke with your head elevating slowly before coming back down, fingers in your hair. You felt at home there, on his chest as he snored happily.
Your head hurt terribly, but you’d grown used to it these couple of days. Not wanting to wake Niall, you slithered out of his arms and made you way toward the kitchen. Your arm had almost reached for the ice coffee, but there was a whole jug of orange juice with a stick note on it.
(Y/N). Orange juice is best for a hangover. Trust me, I know.
;) Nialler
You smiled softly to yourself and poured yourself a cup, drinking it slowly before going out to get your mail. There wasn’t anything important, but it was a simple task, and the only thing that you could still muster to do.
“MG, awake already?” Niall’s voice rang through the house, setting foot in the kitchen afterward.
You giggled, “It’s 2PM, Niall.”
With a chuckle, he stretched, “Ya feelin’ okay?”
“Mhm, actually. I think I needed that.” Putting the paper aside, you turn to him, “We need to catch up. When are you free?”
He tilted his head to the side, pondering his schedule before he smiled again, something you noticed he did often, “For you, whenever.”
His phone rang shortly after, cueing his time to leave.
“That’s my manager. He wants me to check out this new studio, though I’m supposed to be visiting my cousins here,” He rolled his eyes, shaking his head, “I’ll catch up with you, okay? I’ll text ya.”
“Ny, don’t you want your shirt back?” You asked quietly, not really wanting to give it back.
“It’s yours,” He took a step toward you, “Looks better on ya than me.”
Softly, he placed a kiss on your cheek and exited. You could have sworn you’d never felt anything so soft.
You were in the shower when the media first started to suspect it. Your friend Lila texted you an image of an article with the message, “(Y/N), I think you’ve broke the internet.” There, in big bold letters:
HARRY/(Y/N) SPLIT UPDATE: (Y/N) Seen In Mystery Man’s Shirt
As luck would have it, a few days later you’d see an article talking about Harry’s sweater Niall was seen wearing out that same day.
Well…
It wasn’t long until he was coming over nightly. Weekly meetings turned into daily, turned into overnight meetings.
Truthfully, there’d always been a spark there. Despite the curly-haired man dumping you a month prior, the moment you rekindled with Niall, you noticed something - a rare spark in the rain.
Each meeting ended in his kissing you on the cheek and finally waving goodbye.
It didn’t take long for you to realize that you were head over heels for this man. You remembered that exact moment. Around a year had passed since the breakup and it only hurt occasionally, especially when the press pestered you or you saw news about Harry.
Niall had invited you to a show he was doing near your apartment, offering up a front row seat and dinner at his hotel after.
Using it as an excuse to doll yourself up, you agreed and slipped on your favorite outfit before being escorted and driven by someone of Niall’s staff.
He was a tall man, kind of scary, if you were honest, but he was sweet and apparently a family man, going on and on about his husband and son.
By the time the concert came around, you’d already taken several pictures with fans, though many actually seemed to be in favor of you attending the concert, one even ranting about something that sounded an awful lot like the mixing of your name.
When you asked about it, she pulled up multiple accounts on Instagram, all dedicated to your history and pass times with Niall. You blushed, insisting that the two of you were just really good friends, knowing that they were the last people you’d probably want to know.
Screams erupted when the music for Flicker started, a song you’d always been fond of. It made Niall giggle sheepishly before thanking the crowd.
“Actually,” His voice echoed through the venue, “This song means a lot to me. Tonight I’m performing it for someone special.”
Screams came once more, and the girl who had showed you the accounts squealed, insisting that the song was in fact for you.
She eventually left you alone when another girl began talking to her and pulled her away from you (thankfully).
It was a soft and gentle song. As he kept singing, your skin produced goosebumps, the crowd swaying with his emotion. His eyes closed, his voice fondled every word carefully, you watched in awe.
Your mouth stood slightly agape, heart fluttering when his eyes opened and he looked directly at you. A gentle stare, full of longing and love. Of a history.
You knew the next line and mouthed it carefully, “Still a flicker of hope that you first gave to me that I wanna keep…Please don’t leave, please don’t leave.”
He closed his baby blues again, a soft smile on his face, obviously proud of him as he felt all the butterflies in his stomach find their way out of his body.
You’d slipped backstage after the show, finding Niall with ease and wiping sweat off his forehead.
“Niall!” You exclaimed, “That was wonderful!”
Running toward him, he wrapped his arms around you and spun you around, “I’m so glad ya liked it, darlin’.”
“I loved it!” You stared up at him with doe eyes, “And, um…Thank you for that song.”
You kissed his cheek subtly, causing him to turn red, though if you asked him about it, he’d say it was just hot and he had preformed for a little over two hours.
He bit his lip, obviously holding something back before his look softened, “Of course.”
You’d learn soon after what he meant to say, at dinner he had spoken, making you freeze in place.
“Flicker was written about you,” He suddenly said, reminding you of his habit of speaking abruptly.
You took your eyes from the view on the tall building and looked at him, “Huh?”
It was almost breathless, watching his baby blues avoid you, “It was written about you.“
Your heart melts itself right into your hand right at that moment, feeling the urge to go and just hold him.
“I want to be with you, (Y/N). Always have.”
Emotions run through you like things you’ve never felt before. You’re scared, excited, happy, sad, angry at the fact that you’ve been missing out on someone who was so sweet, who smelt of rain and sandalwood and the musk of someone so kind to the Earth.
Your lips finally manage to push out, “It’s like I’ve been waiting to hear that my whole life.”
Niall cupped your face, bringing it closer to him, not struggling against the small table. When your lips finally meet, it’s not anything like before at all. This kiss is different.
It’s not exciting in a way that makes you feel sick. It’s comfortable and kind and reassuring and safe.
Outside the huge window to the left of you, in the rain there’s a flash. Paparazzi.
“Oops.” Niall chuckles, pulling apart before turning his attention toward you again, resting his forehead on yours.
You met Harry again during an after party. He stood against the wall next to the bar of the venue, chewing on his lip. You hadn’t seen him at first, but then you locked eyes.
Trying to avoid him, you turned, only to feel his hand on your shoulder, “(Y/N)…Wait…”
You faced him with a fake smile, “Hey, H.”
He smiled back, feeling his tension release itself, “How have you been?”
“Great, really,” Taking a sip of your drink, you continued, “Finally learned how to drive.”
You lied, wanting him to think you were better off without him.
“Oh,” He glanced over at Niall who was talking to two guys, “So…him?”
You nodded, “Yup. That’s my boyfriend.”
Rocking on the heels of your feet, you looked down, “Camille seems nice, too.”
He shook his head, getting straight to the point, “I miss you.”
You but your lip, “Harry, that’s a lie…I know that. You told me yourself.”
He held your hand, placing it over his heart, “I mean this, love. I’ve been so empty without you.”
Your cheeks flushed red before you snapped out of it, “Harry, you have a girlfriend. Please…I can’t do this…Not to Niall or Camille or even myself. I’ve spent so much time crying over you.”
He felt pressure on his temples.
How often did you cry yourself to sleep because of him?
You made a hasty exit, joining your boyfriend, his arms wrapping around you as you snuggled into them, glancing at Harry every once in a while.
Harry found out later through magazines that you still didn’t know how to drive. Niall drove you everywhere and you were alright with it. Under any circumstance, he’d think it was cute, but now his veins went icy, knowing you’d lied.
When you realized it was love, it was different.
You were in a private booth, supporting your boyfriend of now a year when he called a fan out during Slow Hands.
The fan was carried up the stage, being revealed as a young girl, maybe around eight. She whispered into Niall’s ear, rocking shyly before he smiled down at her and mouthed, “We’ll do it together.”
With their hands connected, he danced gently with the kid, letting her finish verses here and there, goofy smiles on each of their faces.
You could have swore your heart stopped then, watching as he handed her back to her mom and made sure she was okay.
When he got off of the stage that time, you awaited in his dressing room, locking the unsuspecting Niall in with you before he noticed.
“So you’ve been here,” He smiled, unbuttoning his shirt a bit to let himself cool off.
Slyly, you made your way toward him without a word, tracing his collarbones with your nails, “I love you.”
It was the first time you’d said it, afraid of an attachment bringing you down, but you’d replied with ‘Me too’s and ‘I want to spend the rest of my life with you’s.
He froze simply, always being over affectionate, though it was something you loved.
“I love you.”
You kissed him passionately, your tongue dancing with his, backing him up into a counter.
Needing breath, you pulled away and replied, “I think we should have kids.”
A smile found its way to his lips before he hoisted you on the counter of the vanity, kissing you passionately with one goal in mind - to start a family.
Your shirt had found it’s way to the floor, your hands fixed on unbuttoning your boyfriend’s shirt before the door creaked open and something fell to the floor. Jumping up and pulling Niall toward you in an attempt to cover yourself, you squeaked. Niall giggled giddily, drunk on you before he noticed your pupils shrink, your body run cold, eyes fixated on the person behind him.
Harry. It was Harry.
Niall moved quicker than you’d ever seen him, wrapping you in a blanket you’d brought there earlier, turning back to his old friend.
“Erm, maybe I should just go…” Harry glanced down at the flowers he’d dropped, “I just came to congratulate you…You know…for your new album coming soon, and all.”
“No, no,” Niall smiled softly at his friend, “Look, just give (Y/N) a second here, alright? Let’s go outside.”
“Right. Sorry, MG.”
And with a kiss on your forehead, Niall was gone.
Niall had never seen Harry so distraught. As soon as the door closed, Harry’s eyes became red and watery.
“Ah…” Niall sighed, crossing his arms, knowing what was coming, “You didn’t come here for me, hm?”
With guilt, Harry’s head shook, “I…”
“I still love her.”
His voice quivered and he struggled to compose himself.
“Harry…” Niall was sympathetic, eyebrows dipped in worry, “You broke up with her, mate.”
“I was stupid, I know. I was just- I wasn’t used to not having that hunger that we had when we started, it scared me, I thought that I was wasting youth and, and-“
Running a hand through his hair, the shorter tapped his foot, “Jeez, Haz…”
“You know that’s normal, right? It just means you’ve never loved anyone before her. Love comes in phases. Honeymoon, or in this case, ‘hunger,’ is first, it lasts for a while. It’s when you can’t stop thinking about this person. Everything comes back to them. But it doesn’t last.”
Harry listened intently, biting his nails, “Then comes the Settling Down stage. You begin to notice small things that irk you, differences you hadn’t noticed. It scares you. After that is the Disappointment phase. The differences seem bigger than they are. You get scared. Maybe it doesn’t feel like love, but it is just as much as the hunger. That’s where you gave up, Harry.”
Fiddling with his rings, Harry avoided eye contact as if it were a disease, “If you’d continued, you would have seen that it is love. You’d accept it and it would feel normal. That’s the Comfortable stage. The Unconditional Love stage is last. That’s when you know what you’re in for. That’s when you last forever, mate.”
“Seems like you’re going through them all alone.”
Harry bit his lip, “Please.”
“Huh?” Niall puzzled.
“Please let me have another chance, Niall. I know it’s selfish but…I need her.”
Closing his eyes, the older of the two sighed a long breath, whispering so (Y/N) wouldn’t hear, “Harry…I’m proposing to her tomorrow. She just told me she wants us to have kids.”
He didn’t feel the tears run down his face until they dropped down to his hands. He made the biggest mistake of his life.
“Look, Harry, I have to go, but keep in touch, okay? And try to make things right with (N/N). She doesn’t deserve this.”
Swiftly, he left, leaving Harry to himself.
Niall found you soon after, sitting in the couch and scrolling through your phone aimlessly, trying to get your ex out of your mind. In his arms, you forgot everything.
You’d find yourself pregnant in the upcoming months, the pregnancy going over well before it happened.
You sat in bed, caressing your overgrown belly, carrying the six month old fetus, as your phone beeped.
LILA: (Y/N). Look at this.
Attached was a link, a throwaway YouTube account, and there, in big, bold letters.
Leaked Harry Styles Song - Hunger
You couldn’t help but listen to it, finding your eyes swell with tears.
Niall was gone for the time being, doing interviews, leaving you alone. Wallowing in the past.
“I lost my taste for the good in us,” His voice was so raw, painful, noting everything from the hunger to the lying.
And he was sorry.
You sniffed, beginning to sob wildly. The mix of unbalanced hormones made the nostalgia hit harder, and for just a moment, you thought, ‘What if he means it? What if everything turns out okay and you can be just like before?’
Blindly, you dialed his number without much thinking, knowing that by now, he’d have found out of the leak of the personal song. You could tell that it was never meant to be shared, and yet, through tears, you wanted to let him know how much it meant.
“Hello?” He answered, his voice hopeful and it sounded like he’d been crying, too.
But all you could do was press the red button to hang up, anxiety getting the best of you.
Just what were you supposed to do now?
You cried into your hands, not knowing what was right anymore.
On one hand, you had an amazing fiancé, a baby, and an upcoming wedding. A picture-perfect life.
But on the other, the prince of your dreams was there, ready to sweep you away, countless adventures under his belt, ready to show you everything, the risky sides, the passion.
Had you made a mistake?
No, Harry had.
Or maybe, if you love something and set it free, only to have it come back, then maybe it was meant to be?
“Fuck,” You hiccuped, remembering the lyrics as you rested your head against the headboard, eyes closed, “Fuck.”
Maybe now, you thought, just a flicker of hunger for that life remained in your heart.
129 notes · View notes
taylortut · 1 year
Note
merthur whump PLEASE!!!! with arthur whump ed somehow please? 🥺🥺
I hope you like this!! i again don't think it's my best work, but i hope it makes you happy anyway! :)
Arthur is nodding off at the table. He can feel himself doing it, but can’t seem to stop it. In an attempt to hide it, he leans his head against his hand, but even then, his eyes don’t want to stay open and trained to the document in front of him, which he has to memorize within the next hour if he’s to impress these overseas dignitaries. His father had this plan for over two days, but this is all part of the exercise. 
“You won’t always have days to prepare what you’re going to say,” he pointed out. “You have thee hours to memorize. The rest, I’ll trust you to become proficient enough in the topic that you’ll be able to figure something out. It’s an essential skill for a good King.”
That was it. Arthur’s arguments that he had been feeling run-down and overtaxed already went ignored, Gaius’ pleas to be allowed to at least check the boy over since he looked so exhausted were shot down. “A King must push through.” 
Merlin stumbles in late, the knowledge that Arthur is in a terrible mood in hand. 
“Sorry for my tardiness, Sire,” he says, overly-formal in a way he reserves for when he thinks Arthur might get truly angry and put him in the stocks. “Gaius wanted me to pick a few herbs.” 
“Your primary duties are to me. You should have been here.” 
“The herbs are for you. He said they should help you feel a little more awake.” 
When he sees Arthur for the first time after emptying the contents of his bag onto the bed, Merlin frowns. 
“Oh, no. You do look rough. Don’t worry, I’ve got something for that.” 
Arthur massages at his temples. “I’ve got the worst headache. Got anything for that?”
Merlin’s frown deepens. “Have you considered a nap?”
“I don’t have time for that, Merlin. Not until after this meeting.” 
Merlin sighs, knowing but disliking that this is true. “You know, your father could have waited until a day you’re not about to keel over to test you like this. You’ve already had so much on your plate training the nights to fight against Morgana, not to mention we just came back from a hunt.” 
“That was a week ago.” 
“And you’re still exhausted. You haven’t had a break since.” 
Merlin failed to mention that it meant that he, too, hadn’t had a break in as long, and even with his magic keeping him going for longer than a typical human could stand, even he’s feeling the strain. He can’t imagine being Arthur right now. He’s surprised he’s awake at all, but he’s stubborn. That’s likely the only thing keeping him on his feet. 
“It’s a few more hours ‘til the meeting, then I can rest after it. I can manage. Now, if that’s all?” 
“Actually, Sire, I came by to bring you lunch.” 
Arthur pales a shade, shoving the plate away impolitely. “Not hungry, thank you. You may take that back to the kitchen. Or have it for yourself. I don’t care; whatever keeps you quiet.”
He knows that Arthur is particular about anyone, even Merlin, especially Merlin, poking around in his business, particularly when they’re questioning his fitness to do something. He likes to be the judge of whether he’s fit to do something, but the problem is that his own verdict is almost always “yes.” 
Merlin leaves Arthur alone for another two hours before having to retrieve him for the meeting. In that time, he watches Arthur nearly nod off several times and have to get up and stretch, do jumping jacks, dunk his face in the cold water he’d asked be delivered to his chambers. Nothing appears to be working, though, and by the time Merlin has him dressed, it’s almost comical how tired he looks. 
“They’re going to think you ill,” Merlin warns. “You look that bad.” 
“I didn’t ask for your input, Merlin,” he says, but he does take Merlin’s arm and allow him to lead him down the hallway, something he wouldn’t do if he weren’t too dizzy to get to the war room by himself. 
To his credit, Arthur gets through his speech without incident. He fumbles a few times, but always manages to find his place and continue as if nothing happened. Merlin is sure that if he weren’t so familiar with how the speech was supposed to sound, he’d have thought it perfect. Uther is beaming with pride when Arhur finishes. Merlin and Uther’s servant are the only non-noble people officially allowed in the meeting, but Merlin is beginning to wish they’d invited Gaius, too, because Arthur is beginning to send up red flags. He’s quiet, needing to be prompted twice when someone speaks to him. His eyes are barely open and his posture screams dangerously fatigued. By this point, he’s running on fumes, and it’s not until he starts swaying on his feet that Merlin can’t do nothing. 
He steps out of the room and returns a short moment later with Sir Leon. 
“Excuse me, Sire, but a matter of grave importance has arisen in regards to Morgana’s army.” 
Uther looks alarmed, then glances toward his son. “Go. I’ve got things handled from here.” 
The look on Arthur’s face when he believes that yet another enormous task has been thrust into his lap would be funny if it weren’t so heartbreaking, and Merlin silently curse Uther for pushing his own son so hard. 
“What’s the matter?” Arthur asks as soon as they’re out of earshot of the conference. “What happened?” 
“Nothing, Arthur. You looked fit to collapse in there, and we decided it was time to pull you out before you did. We’re going to Gaius’ chambers for treatment.” 
“I don’t need treatment,” Arthur fumes, “and you had no right—”
Merlin’s cool hand to Arthur’s forehead stops him in his tracks. “It’s low, but it’s there. This stress is making you ill, Sire.” 
Leon nods. “What if Morgana really had decided to wage an attack? Do you really think you’re in any condition to fight against her?” 
Arthur pointedly dodges the question. “My father—”
“Won’t find out. Gaius knows what’s going on. We’re going to say that we took you after our own war meeting because you were running a fever. He can’t object to that. Gaius even wants to talk to him about how hard he works you.”
“No. Absolutely not.” 
By this time, they’ve made it, albeit slowly and unsteadily, to Gaius’ chambers on the bottom floor of the castle, where he welcomes them by clearing off a space for Arthur to sit on an examination table. 
“Let’s see what we’ve got, Your Highness,” he greets. 
After a thorough exam, Gaius points to exhaustion and overwork as the culprit, but it has indeed caused a low fever and a pretty bad headache. Gaius gives him a few tinctures, all of which make him wince as he swallows. 
“Merin, Leon, get him back to his chambers. I’ll send up an herbal remedy with dinner and have the kitchens make something lighter for his stomach. You’ve got to eat something, my boy.”
“I’ll be sure to fetch hm water and tea,” Merlin reassures Gaius. “We’ll take care of him from here. Thank you.” 
Because he is, at least to his elders, polite, Arthur mutters a “thanks” under his breath as well. 
“You know I would have been fine to finish the talks,” he argues as Merlin assists him, Leon on the other side, both guiding his dizzy, fumbling self to his chambers. “You didn’t have to come rescue me like some damsel.” 
“We were rescuing you as our friend,” Leon says simply. 
“You’re unwell, Arthur. Anyone can see it. If your father doesn’t care, that’s his own issue, but we do. Gaius does.” 
“My father cares. He just wants to mold me into a great leader.’ 
“A great leader takes care of himself so he can lead another day,” Merlin says hypocritically. 
Because he’s too tired to continue, or maybe even because he thinks they’re right, Arthur stops arguing when they get to his bed. Merlin helps him change out of his war room attire and into something more comfortable. 
“Is there anything you need, Sire?” 
Arthur shakes his head, then frowns. “Actually, water.” 
Merlin fetches the still-full goblet sitting on Arthur’s desk. “Actually drink it this time, please. I don’t want you swooning from thirst.” 
“I’m not going to—”
“Don’t think I didn’t see that you nearly did. Look, I’m not going to pretend I don’t understand why you push yourself. You want to prove your worth, feel like if you’re not good enough, that the blood that comes from your failures is on your hands. Because it is. But that comes with great power, and all you can do is be diligent in your work. Which means keeping yourself in working condition.” 
Arthur is flabbergasted for a moment, always stunned by Merlin’s best advice. “That’s very wise, Merlin.” 
“I often am.” 
“For what that’s worth, you’d think you’re the one with the destiny to save Camelot, not me.” 
Oh, if only he knew. “Get some sleep, Sire. I’ll be back to check on you in a few hours. Call out if you need anything. I won’t go far.” 
Arthur wants to continue arguing, but he can’t resist the pull of sleep, so he shuts his eyes and lets it take him. 
52 notes · View notes
angelasscribbles · 11 months
Text
In Your Room Chapter 8: Past, Present, Future
Series: In Your Room
Fandom: TRR                    
Pairings: Leo x Drake
Rating: MA
Warnings for this chapter: Language, under aged drinking
Song Inspiration for the series: In Your Room by The Bangles
Word Count: 1,720
My other stuff: Master List.
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Hana watched in awe as Drake and Leo gulped down their water in an attempt to see who could drink it the fastest. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people more competitive. Have they always been like this?”
“These two have been competitive since the day they met!” Liam told her, “I think it started the day Drake knocked him off his polo pony.”
“Off his high horse, literally!” Drake laughed as he slammed his glass down on the table, “I win!”
“You waited until I was distracted!” Leo protested, ignoring that he had just lost the water-drinking contest, “Otherwise, you never would have unseated me!”
Drake scoffed loudly, “I’m a better horseman than you, Leo!”
“See?” Olivia arched her eyebrows at Hana, “It never ends.”
 “Yeah,” Max agreed, “They got so competitive with the fencing that they weren’t allowed to spar with each other anymore.”
“Damn!” Riley shook her head in amusement, “That bad huh?”
“Football, Rugby, shooting pool, darts, hell, who could eat the most,” Savannah verified, “They competed over literally everything!”
Riley smothered a giggle, “Yes, I’m aware. I’ve seen it firsthand!”
Leo and Drake both had the good grace to look abashed.
“Sorry about that, Brooks,” Drake muttered.
“Yeah, we were wrong for that.” Leo agreed.
“It’s okay,” she waved them off dismissively then wrapped her arms around Liam, “It worked out far better this way!”
Liam beamed down at her, “It certainly did!”
“I think all that competition and snarky bullshit was always just repressed attraction,” Olivia nodded sagely as she took a bite of her salad.
Drake dove for the ball, skidding through the mud and colliding with Leo. He hit him full force, dropping both their bodies to the ground. For a moment time froze as he looked down into those ocean-blue depths, his heart pounding in his chest as the rain pelted down on them.
“Get off me, Walker!”
Drake scrambled up from the ground, face red, mumbling an apology.
“Game is over, I need a shower!” Leo stalked off the field, hoping no one noticed the raging erection in his pants.
“Did they ever get along?” Hana asked, curious how their feelings for each other developed if it was all about competition.
“Oh, sure,” Liam answered, “Usually because I begged them to be nice, for my sake.”
“Well, that,” Max agreed, “but also, they were both so full of disdain for all things courtly, despite being forced to attend.”
Leo smiled as he thought back, “Oh God, remember how we used to ditch out of all those formal events every chance we got?”
“Yeah, he was supposed to be my best friend, but there he’d go, sneaking off with my brother and leaving me to fend for myself with the adults!” Liam complained.
“Really?” Drake’s mouth fell open in disbelief, “We tried to get you to ditch with us all the time, but your goody-two-shoes ass wouldn’t even consider it!”
“I didn’t want to get in trouble, Drake!”
“He’s got a point, little bro,” Leo chimed in, “You were invited, you said no, you can’t blame us for that!”
They sat on the roof looking out over the sparkling lights of the city and the deep inky blackness that was the Mediterranean at night.
“It’s really pretty up here at night,” Drake observed.
“Yeah,” Leo agreed as he produced a bottle of Breckenridge Bourbon Whiskey he’d stolen before they’d snuck out of the gala. He opened it and took a long drink as he gazed out over Stormholt City. When he was done, he held it out to the younger boy, “Want some?”
“Sure,” Drake reached for it, unwilling to admit he’d never tried it. He brought the bottle to his lips and tipped it back, and took a long draw. He squeezed his eyes shut as the liquid slid down his throat, the burning sensation making him cough.
Leo took the bottle back, slapping Drake on the back as he chortled, “Lightweight!”
Drake tried to protest as he drew an arm across his mouth, but he couldn’t make his vocal cords work so he settled for extending his middle finger.
“Seriously man, you okay?” Leo asked, concern seeping into his voice.
“I’m fine,” Drake managed, embarrassment spilling through him.
“First time?” Leo quirked an eyebrow at him.
Drake nodded, looking away.
“First time for everything, no shame in that,” Leo told him as he hopped up onto the ledge and dangled his legs over the side of the roof. He took another long drink as he tilted his head back to look up at the stars.
Drake joined him on the ledge and reached for the bottle.
“You sure about that?” Leo asked, “Because you can’t get drunk and fall off the roof. Liam would never let me hear the end of it.”
“Just shut up and give it here!”
Leo shrugged as he handed it over, “Okay, it’s your funeral.”
Two hours later they lay on their backs on the roof staring up at the night sky. Drake was definitely drunk. They had exhausted all avenues of conversation from sports and girls to horses and cars.
“We should probably get back to our rooms,” Leo said as he stood.
“Okay,” Drake tried and failed to regain his feet as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He lowered himself back to the ground, “Maybe we could just sleep up here?”
“Yeah….no,” Leo extended his hand to help him to his feet, “They’ll have the entire king’s guard looking for us, come on!”
He helped him back to his room, made him swallow some Tylenol then tucked him into bed. As he turned to leave Drake called his name.
Leo turned around, “Yeah?”
“You’re not so bad. I actually kind of like you, you know.”
“What?” An elated surprise thrilled through him. Drake didn’t mean he liked him, liked him, did he? “What do you mean you like me?”
The only response he got was the sound of Drake snoring.
Leo was sure he didn’t mean it like that anyway. “I like you too,” he said softly before slipping out the door.
“Well, I suppose you have a point,” Liam relented, “At any rate, I’ve forgiven you.”
“Forgiven us for what?” Drake demanded.
“Yeah, little bro, don’t blame us for your lameness!”
“Right. I’m the lame one,” Liam rolled his eyes, “I’m not the one that denied my own feelings for years, Leo!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means Drake came out at seventeen and you just kept pretending you didn’t like him!”
“You have a date tonight? Who is she? I’ve probably already fucked her.”
“Not a her,” Drake replied evenly as he smoothed down the front of the deep blue button-up shirt and checked his look in the floor-length mirror.
“Wait…what?” Leo felt frozen to the spot as a multitude of emotions flooded through him. None of which he was ready to cope with.
A searing white hot jealously pierced his heart.
It was one thing when they were both fucking women. It was one thing when he could convince himself that Drake was straight. It was one thing when he could deny that he himself was anything other than straight, Cedric Vescovi notwithstanding.
It was a far different thing to be confronted with the fact that all the turbulent, seething emotions that Drake inspired within him were within the realm of possibility, yet completely out of his reach because he could not bring himself to admit to any of them.
Instead, he had opted for snarky remarks and sneering condescension most of the time. He had been afraid that any small crack in his armor, any bit of kindness or real emotion shown would rip him open wide and let all the feelings that scared him most flood out for the world to see.
Then Drake was leaving for college and any opportunity he might have had to confess his feelings and find out if they were returned was slipping right through his fingers.
“I’m just wondering why you have to go so far away!” Leo glared at his younger brother’s best friend.
“Why do you care?” Drake shot him a confused look.
“I don’t!” Leo protested, “But my brother is going to miss you. You could just stay here and attend university with him. Then you’d see each other a lot more often. You could be roommates even, if you wanted!”
Something in Leo’s tone brought Drake up short. He stopped and gave the other man a long searching look. He opened his mouth to speak, and Leo’s heart jumped into his throat.
“There you are!” Liam called out as he rounded the corner with Max and Olivia in tow, “Are you ready? We can’t be late, you’re the one in charge of the bonfire!”
They were going to a private beach party as a bit of a bon voyage for those of them that were off to university in the fall.
“I’m ready,” Drake responded, turning away from Leo, and just like that, the moment was gone.
Leo pushed his plate away. His brother wasn’t wrong. He had wasted years pretending to be straight. “Yeah, well, you have the same father I do, so you should understand why.”
The teasing smile disappeared from Liam’s face. He did know. “My apologies, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just taking the piss out of you.”
“I know,” Leo gave him a half-hearted smile, “It’s fine. Just having a bad day. What’s for dessert?”
Liam leaned over and lowered his voice sympathetically, “I’m sorry our father is such a cretin. It’s too bad you were born before me.”
Leo froze. “What did you just say?”
“What?” Liam looked confused then he glanced at Riley who was leaning away chatting with Savannah before responding, “Oh, nothing. Just that it’s a cruel irony that either our sexuality or our birth order wasn’t reversed.”
Liam had already bought an engagement ring. He was just waiting for the right moment to pop the question. He was so distracted by the sight of his girlfriend that he missed the expression on his brother’s face.
Leo sat staring at his brother, dumbfounded as his future exploded and then reassembled itself in his head.
He knew what he had to do.
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Hands rubbing together to warm them up + damerey kiddos
It is 2023 and I am formally back in this spiral and... doing my usual vaguely-post-canon thing that didn't happen several years ago due to Assorted Unrelated Personal Bullshit. Turns out I missed these babes. PG-ish, pre-relationship, and also on ao3.
She’s cold. She hates this.
There is, admittedly, a lot of life that Rey hasn’t experienced yet. An extended stay on an ice planet is not nor will it be the weirdest, but it’s still…
“Warm enough?”
There’s a lot more she needs to get used to, really. The fact that people care about her – both on a peripheral level, where it is very important that someone of her position have adequate clothing for every stop on what one of her friends described as the victory tour, and the existence of said friends, the fact that there are other living beings she trusts completely and-
Rey turns to look at her designated minder, who looks even less thrilled than she is about this particular adventure. “I will be. Eventually. Maybe.”
Normally this is the part where she’d add some little comment about how her comfort doesn’t matter, as long as she’s functional she’ll deal, but she’s learning to moderate that around certain people. Well, one specific person who absolutely refuses to listen to her and-
It’s not personal. It’s deeply personal. She’s not used to duality.
What she’s figured out, in these months of closure or whatever, is that the official reason they’re stuck together is the droid apparently has separation anxiety and that’s definitely a new one by her standards, and the unofficial one is that someone somewhere in Resistance administration figured that two chaotic humans would cancel each other out. This is… not exactly what’s happened, but it’s kept both of them out of trouble better than she suspects any other scheme would, and-
“So, not warm enough and going to pretend otherwise because you’re a self-sacrificing-“
“Like you’re any better!”
This is the part she’s gotten used to, the too-public verbal sparring matches that are still… affectionate, somehow. She heard all the rumors long before they got to this point, and she knows there’s no harm meant in whatever too-perceptive accusations might get thrown around, and-
“I think I’ve at least figured out layers,” Poe mutters, giving her an unimpressed look. “Whereas you…”
“Don’t… don’t make my inexperience into-“
“Worried, not amused. You look frozen.”
“I feel worse.”
“C’mere.”
She takes half a step closer and is unsurprised when his gloved hands wrap around hers, moving just slightly in repetitive motion, very careful not to touch the little strip of exposed skin between glove and jacket sleeve and-
“We’re getting you better gloves,” he murmurs.
“These are fine. They do fit. That’s more than-”
He gives her that look she’s starting to recognize as a specific flavor of… not exactly disappointment, that would imply more harm than she thinks he intends, but…
“Do you know how bad it looks for them if you get frostbite?”
“No?”
“Disaster. Complete petty disaster. We do not want that, understand?”
“Since when do you-“
Her voice cuts off as she processes the accusations that want to fall out that… aren’t quite accurate, really. Almost everyone she’s met in this world has been kind to her, at worst in awe and confused, but this man is…
“I’m sorry,” she says just a little too soft. “I know you care. I’m not sure why, but-“
“I have a droid who likes you more than me, you kinda saved the galaxy, and…”
“And?”
“I like you. Does it have to be more complicated than that?”
Yes, she thinks, yes it absolutely does have to be more complicated, but… she has months of evidence that it may not be. He’s been consistently kind and protective in a different way than anyone else, but it hasn’t gone any clear direction yet. No comments about her appearance, let alone-
“You like me,” she repeats, and the words taste right in her mouth. “That’s…”
“I didn’t mean to-“
“I don’t mind. I’m just… unsure what you want me to do with it.”
“Right now… nothing? I’m not sure I should’ve said that but-“
“Probably better to get it over with. Gives me time.”
“No pressure, okay? I’m not-“
“Do you ever stop talking?”
“What, is that not helping?”
Rey rolls her eyes in a way she hopes comes off as flirtatious and okay she’s never wanted to do that before and-
“I trust you,” she says, glancing down at their hands. “That isn’t…”
“Still-“
“We can fight about this when I’m not an icicle. Deal?”
“Deal.”
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randomwriteronline · 2 years
Text
- ... Hello?
Hallo Herr Forehead.
- Stop calling me that.
We're not in court. Unless you are? No you can't be, you wouldn't answer the phone if you were.
- Still, it'd be nice if you didn't call me that.
Ach, warum, magst du das nicht, don't you like it?
- Not in the slightest.
But it's a, uhhh, nickname.
- I know it is but I don't like it at all. Everybody makes fun of my hair and face already, at least try to find a more... Original... One, what's that noise?
Was?
- There's a weird sound, what are you doing?
Ah, yes, yes, that's - I'm cutting my hair, that's why I called you.
- You're calling from the hairdresser?
My bathroom.
- ... 'scuse me.
I'm calling from my bathroom.
- ... Are you just chopping off your-
Yes, that's why I called you.
- WHY are you calling me at... Four in the morning for you about giving yourself a haircut, I can't really just drive there to help?
Ich weiß, aber I need your opinion.
- Klavier I cannot fucking see you.
I know.
- ... ... ... Fine. Fine, whatever, I've got five cases of the same minor felony to work through anyways. So what are you doing.
Cutting.
- Cutting how?
Short.
- You look fine with long hair though.
Ja, well, my brother did also and I looked exactly like him and I'm not feeling that alright right now, so you know.
- I... Yeah that's. That's a good point. But do you have medication you need to take?
Yes but I missed that and if I take it now it will fuck up all the other times I need to take it, that's why I'm cutting my hair.
- God, ok, uh... How... How do I help, what's my role in this.
Tell me how to cut it.
- ... I can't fucking see you.
That way if it looks like shit I can say it's your fault and not mine.
- Wow. Real foolproof plan.
Danke.
- Alright, uh... What have you done so far?
Cut off my braid.
- Like at the root?
Nein, just uh, shoulder length. More or less. Gott I look like a fucking. I'm just missing the uh, the... Big sideburns.
- Mutton chops?
I think so. Put a pair on me and I'll look like some tryhard psychedelic rocker from 1978 to 1982.
- I am honestly trying very hard to visualize that and I can confidently say I have no idea how that would look like.
Maybe you have aphantasia.
- What?
Nevermind. I just mean that I look disgusting.
- Even with your face?
This is really not the best moment to remind me of my face I think.
- Sorry.
Keine Sorgen. So! What do I do now?
- Oh, uh... Don't touch the uh, bangs. Fringe? Bangs?
Not to worry, my forehead is gonna remain nice and covered. I'd hate to steal your gimmick.
- Fuck off.
Fine, I'll find a different nickname. Maybe something about your arm necklace, like how does Herr Bling sound?
- First, that's maybe worse. Second, my arm what?
Arm necklace. The uh... Arm. Band. Bracelet.
- Arm necklace.
Shush. So bangs are gonna stay. What goes.
- Eh, hm... Do you have like... An electric razor or something?
You propose an undercut?
- Yeah. On the sides maybe. Or the back if that's, if you have mirrors to help.
Oooh, thinking dangerously, I like that. I'm gonna do it on the back blind.
- You're gonna fuck it up.
In that case that'll be your fault, I already told you.
- Ok, whatever, do it your way.
I am.
- Good.
... ... I could call you Herr Papagei.
- Herr what?
Papagei. Herr Wright’s daughter, she calls you Polly no? That’s a parrot name, no? Herr Papagei.
- No.
Herr Papageno?
- That’s the same as the parrot one, you can’t fool me.
No no no, that’s a reference to the, uhm... Die Zauberflöte von Mozart, the Singspiel. Opera. Papageno is a character in it, and in opera you have to sing very loudly and you’re loud. Makes sense.
- Sounds too much like the parrot.
Well yes, he’s meant to be a sort of, of bird man.
-Yeah, I don’t wanna be that.
Ach, you’re difficult. Want me to call you Herr Sonnengott?
- ... I don’t think calling me by my first name in court is very formal.
Oooh, were did you learn German? Is it Fraulein Cykes?
- It’s not that hard to tell “Sonnengott” means “Sun god”. It’s basically the same words, just misspelled.
Hey, English is a misspelling of German.
- I guess...
Anyways! Herr Gerichtigkeit, dann?
- Oof, that’s a mouthful.
Herr Chords of Steel.
- I think that counts as advertisement.
Hmm, you’re right. Herr Vocalist.
- No.
Hm, what’s it about you... Herr Observant.
- Sounds weird.
You find one then.
- Herr Justice.
Ah, but that’s boring!
- It is my name.
That’s why it’s boring!
- Bleh.
... ... ...
- Wait, is your hair wet or dry?
Was? Uh, dry?
- Have you got like, a towel on your shoulders?
No?
- ... So you’re just. You’re just buzzing your hair like that, getting it all over yourself? Like on your back and shirt and all?
Yes? Should I be naked to cut my hair?
- Don’t make me think about that...
Hey, I’m pretty handsome.
- Yeah, and you’ve probably got ten thousand bits of hair stabbed inside your back like the spines of a porcupine. Take a shower once you’re done or you’ll be itchy for twelve days straight.
Will you join me?
- Get your mind out of the gutter, I’m technically still at work.
Gasp, and you’re telling me to get in the shower with you? How debauched...
- Klavier.
Ja, ich bin er.
- Stop that.
Fine, fine, but seriously, a shower at four in the morning?
- You’re the one who didn’t bother getting prepared! Now you’re getting a shower at four in the morning!
Ugh, as you say.
- ... How’s it going anyways? Your hair.
Give me a moment and I’ll answer.
- Ok.
... ... ... ...
- ... ... ... ...
... You know what. I think I like this.
- Really?
Really.
- I’m glad.
... Thank you, by the way. For answering the phone. And talking, and just... Indulging me and all. It’s... It’s nice, you know?
- It’s nothing, honestly. It’s nice talking to you.
Really?
- Really. ... Even if half of it is you trying to convince me into letting you call me horrendous name after horrendous name.
Ha ha, I suppose so. I’ve go a last one.
- Klavier.
It’s good, I promise.
- Fine. Hit me with it.
Herr Kollege.
- ... Herr Kollege.
Yes.
- Mister Colleague.
Or friend. It also means friend. Since we’re colleagues, and also friends. If you don’t take back what you said when you visited. But it sounds professional, no? Good enough for court?
- ... You know what, that’s clever. I’ll allow it.
Can I still call you Herr Forehead outside of court?
- Do you have to?
It’s a proper nickname. Not a business one.
- So you will still use it no matter what I say.
I’m just saying it would be hard to grow out of saying it.
- Fine. No choice anyways.
So I can keep it?
- Yes. Now get in the shower and wash that hair away before you get all itchy.
Sir yes sir. You go back to work.
- Will do.
‘Tis goodbye then?
- Goodnight. And don’t- don’t worry about, uh, calling me. If you want. I’m usually here to answer.
I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for talking, Apollo.
- Don’t mention it. Goodnight.
Goodbye.
(Klavier looked again in the mirror. He would have probably regretted this once he was a little more well rested and could properly see all the errors he had made, but with a hand running across the back of his buzzed hair to feel it scratch and sting his digits, to feel how much shorter the blond strands he had cut were compared to how they’d been, and replaying Apollo’s voice in his mind, he thought he really liked the way he looked.)
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myeaglesong · 9 months
Text
Tauriel had been gazing at her set of bow and arrows with a solemn expression written across her features.  She fiddled with the feathers on top of one of the arrows between her fingers as she let out an exasperated sigh.  She had been considering two very different conversations which she had held recently. On the one hand, there was the very formal conversation where Thranduil had clearly pointed out the reasons that he would not allow Legolas to betroth himself to her. The other was her growing love for the dwarven Prince, Kili. She was hiding from Legolas, which was unlike her, but she knew that he would sense something was amiss. Legolas was the very person that she needed to be honest with if she was going to spare him the pain that she could cause by leading him on.
She then decided that enough was enough, she had to have her heart-to-heart with Legolas. There was nothing else for it. Tauriel had let the matter fester for far too long. She walked out of her chambers, but not before she grabbed her bow and arrows. It was not too long before she came across Legolas. It seemed that Legolas had an intention to speak with her as well. They paused, facing each other in the long corridor, neither sure who was going to make the first move toward a conversation that needed to be had.  Tauriel was not sure of what Legolas had to say or why he was being awkward around her, but she had a good idea of what he wanted to say.  Tauriel knew that if Legolas was not going to broach the matter first, she would have to. 
She coughed to clear the air between them both. This got Legolas' attention since it appeared that his thoughts were anywhere but in the present. 
“Legolas, we need to talk,” Tauriel sighed.  
“I was thinking the very same thing,” Legolas admitted, with a hopeful smile.  
There it was, the hopeful smile that he often showed when he was with Tauriel. 
“Yes, we need to talk,” she reiterated, “yet not right in the corridor” she suggested. Keeping her tone even. 
“Then where do you suggest?” asked Legolas. 
Tauriel gave his direct question some thought before answering him. 
“I think that the archery field is as good a place as any.” Tauriel shrugged. 
“I reckon that you are right,” answered Legolas. 
The two of them walked in silence until they reached the archery field. 
Once they reached the archery field, Tauriel glanced around the space of their surroundings and noted that they were alone. There were no other Elven archers around, they were the only two there.  They stood in relative silence until Legolas glanced at her with a questioning expression. 
“You have been absent from the archery practices for a little time.” Legolas mentioned. 
“It’s true, I have been avoiding matters” Tauriel answered him vaguely at first. 
“What do you mean?” asked Legolas. 
“I think that I’ve been avoiding you, when you were the one that I needed to talk to,” Tauriel answered him. 
“In that case, what made you reconsider wanting to talk to me?” Legolas. acutely asked her. 
“I’ve let matters slip beyond my reach for too long, and it needs to be settled” she once again answered him with a riddle of an answer. 
“Will you stop talking in riddles and please tell me the truth? It’s not like you to be so unclear,” Legolas sighed. He gazed at her with a hopeful yet worried glance. 
Tauriel nodded in agreement with his words, although her heart skipped a beat, from the very words that would soon flow from her lips.
“You’ve grown fond of me,” she began shakily, clenching and unclenching her fingers in repeated motions. 
“Yes I have,” came the firm response from Legolas.  
She was silent for a moment as she allowed his words to settle in her mind. It had been confirmed by Legolas himself, yet Tauriel needed to know more about how he truly felt about her. 
“You wish to be betrothed to me,” stated Tauriel. 
“Yes, I do,” came Legolas' firm answer. 
“I am sorry, but I cannot return your love” she answered his questioning expression. 
He took a step closer towards Tauriel and took both of her hands into his. 
“You have never looked at me in the same way that I see you, have you?” he asked Tauriel directly. 
“I do love you Legolas, but it is not romantic love. I feel it in my being. I love you in the same way that someone loves a friend or a brother. What I feel for Kili is different. That is romantic love!” said Tauriel,  regaining her confidence with every word.  
“I knew that the dwarven Prince felt something for you, but I never imagined that you would feel that way him. I thought that in time you would grow to love me in the same way that I love you.” Legolas sighed. 
“Legolas, please do not be angry with me. I love Kili, and I want to be with him. It is he who has won my heart. I was hoping that you would understand,” Tauriel explained. 
“I am not angry with you! I could never be angry with you!” Legolas responded. 
Legolas sadly let go of her hands and started to walk away but Tauriel caught up with him.
“I think in your heart, you know that what I am saying is true!” Tauriel stated. 
“I do, but I will need time to consider what you have told me. It’s not exactly what I was hoping to hear from you. Although it is fair of you to be honest with me at least.” Legolas sighed. 
“I think that you were looking for a friend, weren’t you?” Tauriel asked. 
“I was, I mean that I still am,” Legolas answered her. 
“I think that I may know someone who could be a friend to you if you would allow it,” Tauriel said. 
Legolas raised a curious eyebrow upon hearing Tauriel’s words.  
“Now I am curious as to who you’ve got in mind,” said Legolas. 
“If you cast your mind back to when we attended Oakenshield’s wedding, you may recall that you met Bard's eldest daughter there.” she pointed out. 
“Sigrid?” asked Legolas. “Yes, she and we were passing each other and she introduced herself, just then I introduced myself, so we got talking casually. I didn’t think of the meeting until now,” he paused, “ Sigrid mentioned that she was hoping to dance with King Fili. I think that she has a crush on him.” Legolas said. 
Tauriel sighed, she thought for a moment that Legolas was about to raise the subject of their misunderstanding again. 
“Are you saying that you did not like Sigrid?” asked Tauriel. 
“Not at all, I thought that she was very kind, pretty, strong willed and may make a happy wife for King Fili one day” sighed Legolas. 
“I see,” said Tauriel.
“What?” asked Legolas. 
“It sounds as though you like her more than you are saying,” said Tauriel.
“I am not holding a crush on Sigrid!” protested Legolas. 
“I never said a word!” said Tauriel. 
Their awkward silence returned, this time it was initiated by Legolas who turned his head to one side as he did when he was considering something. He had been considering Tauriel’s mention of Sigrid and he was now wondering about if she was right. 
“But that would never be! Even if I did have an interest in Sigrid, my father would never allow it. He was going on about his intentions to have me married off into Elvish nobility at one point. I seriously doubt that this view of his has changed.” Legolas sighed. 
Tauriel gave Legolas a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, which furthered in Legolas’s mind that she truly did only love him as a brother or a friend.  He took the time to consider Tauriel’s words concerning Sigrid. Just as Tauriel was considering her own answer to Legolas’s confession. 
“I think that your father is more open to new relationships than he was before. He witnessed the end of my conversation with Kili, and has not mentioned it since then. I think that there is a reason for this change in him, but I don’t know what” said Tauriel.
“Do you think that I should ask Sigrid if she would like to be friends at the ball?” asked Legolas.
“I think that this would be a lovely idea” answered Tauriel as a friend would. 
“What will you do now?” enquired Legolas. 
“I think that I shall aim a few arrows into that target and then call it a night. I’ve let my own concerns about talking to you outweigh my interest in archery. I cannot be seen to let my aim become lousy, now can I?” she asked Legolas with a small chuckle.  
“In that case, I shall challenge you to an archery contest in a day or two!” Legolas answered. 
“You are on, Legolas!” she answered him with a casual tone. 
As he left Tauriel to her own devices, Legolas peered over his shoulder as Tauriel began her solitary practice. He thought to himself about Tauriel’s suggestion that she thought he had some feelings for Sigrid.  He had learned from his talk with Tauriel that he should not hope too much or push her in a direction she was not willing to go.  “I shall not make the same mistakes with Sigrid, I vow this!” he promised himself. Perhaps all this time he was looking for a friend in Tauriel. He had some genuine soul-searching to do and perhaps there was hope of something on the horizon, yet what that was remained unknown to Legolas. 
tag list: @nocompromise-noregrets @i-did-not-mean-to
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Lenny attending a proper meet-the-parents dinner after making things official with Midge.
Of course it rains like hell.
It hadn’t been in the forecast, and it had been sunny and a little muggy all day, but a crack of thunder signals that that’s all over at six-thirty in the evening as they’re walking to the restaurant. A nice place downtown that does French food. 
They scramble under an awning and Lenny tugs his jacket off to lift over both of their heads. “We’re gonna have to make a run for it or you’re gonna melt.” 
“What am I, the Wicked Witch of the West?” Midge asks pointedly as they splash their way towards the restaurant. 
“I’m sorry, I saw how much mascara you put on tonight,” he tells her. “Unless you want all that running down your face, move.” 
They bust into the restaurant pretty inelegantly all things considered, which is unfortunate, because it does garner a few stares, including from her parents. 
Abe almost looks amused. Rose certainly does not. 
Midge takes a breath and brushes at her dress, before turning to Lenny and adjusting his tie gently as he slips his soggy jacket back on. 
“What do you think, drowned rat?” he asks. 
She smiles and tugs on the collar of his shirt playfully. “Handsome as ever, Mr. Bruce.” 
“Good, I’d hate to disappoint,” he quips. 
A voice clears its throat at them, and they turn to find the Maitre d looking perturbed. “May I help Madame and Monsieur?” he asks awkwardly.
Midge’s smile turns from flirty to polite. “We’re meeting my parents, they’re just over there,” she gestures easily, and the man looks relieved not to have to put them on some sort of wait list. 
They’re led over and Lenny pulls Midge’s chair out for her without fanfare before taking the seat next to him. 
“You’re late,” Rose says. 
“Sorry, Mama,” Midge says apologetically. “I got held up at Susie’s office, and then I had to get ready, and then the rain started.” 
“What happened to your umbrella?” Rose asks. 
Lenny grins to himself, and Midge glances at him, nuding his knee with hers under the table. 
“I just didn’t think it would rain,” she explains. “So. Are we ordering first or doing the formal ‘this is my new boyfriend, you’ve met him, he was hungover that one time’ thing first?” 
“Thank you for that,” Lenny grumbles. 
“You were very hungover,” Abe points out. 
“He knows,” Midge grins as she takes a breath. “Mama. Papa. You remember Lenny.” 
“Hello, Lenny,” Abe says. “Nice to see you again.” 
“Hello, Abe.” 
“And how long have you been seeing each other?” Rose asks. 
Midge blinks, narrowing her eyes. 
“Miriam,” Rose warns. “This should not be a difficult question to answer.” 
“Let me tap in,” Lenny says. “Last summer, in Miami, we…maybe thought about it. And then last November…we…talked…some more…” 
Midge lifts an eyebrow at him, as if to say ‘harder than it looks, huh moron?’ 
“And then we had a bit of a falling out, and then in…February…we decided to sort of…become a little more official.” 
Rose looks pointedly at Midge. “Hence why you turned down the Valentine’s date I set up for you.” 
“I had one,” Midge admits sheepishly. “We just weren’t ready to tell people yet. It was still so new, and things felt fragile, and…so…we just…didn’t.” 
“It’s April,” Rose says. 
“Things feel less fragile,” Midge tells her.
“So this is official,” Rose says cautiously. “You’re officially dating.” 
“And you and Papa are the first to know. Aside from Susie and Lenny’s mother.” 
“Why does his mother know before me?” Rose accuses. 
Lenny cringes a little. “That’s on me. I was talking to my six-year-old on the phone the other day, and she wanted to know how I was doing, and I…sort of let slip that I’ve been dating someone, and she turned right around and told my mother.” 
“It was very sweet,” Midge assures him. 
“I didn’t know you had children,” Abe comments conversationally. 
“Just the one,” Lenny supplies. “She lives with my mother out in LA. I’d like that to chance at some point, but…we’ll see.” 
“So you’re dating,” Rose states. “And it’s serious. Where do you see this going?” 
“We have no idea,” Midge admits. 
“Not a clue,” Lenny agrees. “Could be over tomorrow, could last forever.” 
Midge smiles a little and turns to him. “I kind of like the forever idea.” 
“Me, too. Let’s see if we can make it stick,” Lenny promises. 
Abe grins a little and glances at Rose, who isn’t smiling but looks pleased anyway. 
“Well,” she breathes out, passing around menus. “Let’s order, shall we?”
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sxugaryx · 4 months
Text
A panting filled with deception (Fanfic)
New chapter from my main series 🩷
January 14th 18XX
Pinocchio looked at the painting in front of him, it was a beautiful work of art, all the artwork in the gallery had captivated him, it felt inspiring, he knew that he probably wouldn’t be able to make detailed paintings like this, but a part of him wanted to try it, even if it was just a hobby, music was his forte but Pinocchio had a passion for the arts, as demonstrated by his love of reading as well.
Pinocchio looked around the exhibit, he had lost sight of his father but it was okay, his father told him to explore as much as he wanted, and the art gallery wasn’t as big as others, eventually they would end up meeting again at some point; Pinocchio was so entranced by one of the paintings, it was a painting of a beautiful woman, it reminded him of the painting his mother has back at Hotel Krat, she was so lovely, yet she looked sad, extremely sad.
“I take it that you like my painting,” Said a voice behind him.
Pinocchio was startled, so startled that when he turned around to face the person behind him, he accidentally collided with them, both fell onto the floor, Pinocchio saw that it was a man who had addressed him, he got up and helped the man get up as well.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” He hoped that the man wasn’t hurt, he knew how sturdy his body was.
“It’s alright, I suppose it’s my fault for scaring you like that, I was only happy to see others enjoy my work” The man in front of him was dressed in formal clothing, yet not too formal at the same time, it had a balance, his outfit highlighted all the best parts of his physique, “Let me introduce myself, my name is-“
“Huh, Dorian Gray?” Geppetto had caught up with his son, now standing next to him, he instantly recognized him, how could he ever forget the face of the man who made that beloved painting of Carlo?
To say Geppetto was surprised was a complete understatement, Dorian Gray had not aged a day since he last saw him, it seemed that the years had treated him extremely well, but there must be some sort of secret behind it, but it was not out of the realm of possibility that he just takes a ridiculous amount of time in his appearance, he always had this air of vanity around him, he was, still, he is a great painter, the painting he made for his son was something he would always treasure, but there was something off about him, Geppetto tried not to judge and make assumptions, maybe he was a little arrogant but that’s hardly a crime.
“Geppetto, long time no see, I’m quite shocked, but glad to see you safe and sound, I was worried, knowing what occurred in Krat” Dorian Gray had grace and elegance in his words.
“If you are here that means someone requires your outstanding insights, I hope nothing for the best in your stay”
Dorian Gray turned to look at Pinocchio, he was quite entranced by his looks, it was the reason he got closer to him in the first place, “What a beautiful young man” was his first thought as soon as he saw him staring at his painting.
“Ah, and this must be your son Carlo correct? My how much you’ve grown”
Silence.
Pinocchio just looked away a bit, he knew things would be awkward, and he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, he got closer to his father hiding behind him. He had faced so many threats why did he suddenly feel so intimidated?
Dorian Gray quickly realized something wasn’t right by that reaction.
“Unfortunately Carlo is…no longer with us” Geppetto gave a sigh, it never got easier to explain that his son had died, but overtime, he had managed to overcome the grief of just explaining that his son was gone.
“This is my other son, Pinocchio”
Pinocchio turned to look and Mr. Gray, oh no, now I have to introduce myself, I’ve never been good at that.
“It’s a… pleasure to meet you Mr. Gray” Pinocchio extended his hand for a handshake, as both hands touched, he saw that Dorian Gray tried to grab his hand very firmly, but he quickly must have realized that his hand was no ordinary hand, Pinocchio usually had to restrain himself when it came to certain mundane things, he was far stronger than humans, and although he walked tended to walk that line between human and puppet, there was no denying his massive strength.
“You have quite the firm grasp young man” too firm. Dorian Gray realized it wasn’t normal, even with the gloves on he could tell his hand was stiff, too stiff, he then had another thought, as there was no way for Geppetto to have another son, Pinocchio must have been around Carlo’s age, perhaps he was a year older or younger. But there was no way that he wouldn’t have met him back then, Geppetto would dote around his son Carlo, it made no sense for him to hide his other son from the world, and it made no sense to not request a painting for him as well, Geppetto certainly had the money to commission his work twice.
That stiffness, and his looks, quickly Dorian Gray had put two and two together.
Geppetto had built himself another son.
As Pinocchio and Dorian Gray finished with the greeting, Geppetto could tell right away that he had realized the truth about Pinocchio. Thinking to himself, “Well now he probably thinks I’m crazy”
“Poor Geppetto has gone mad” Were words that resonated in Dorian’s mind, the grief of losing Carlo must have gotten to him.
Well, unfortunately, it’s not as if he was wrong about the assumption.
Dorian Gray analyzed Pinocchio further, this was no ordinary puppet, he looked at Pinocchio’s chest and could tell that he was breathing, how is that possible?
“I’m sorry to hear that, you have my condolences” It is tragic when someone dies young, but Dorian Gray envies those who die young, die they looking beautiful. “Pinocchio it’s a pleasure to meet you”
Pinocchio was still behind his father, and he didn’t understand why he felt uncomfortable, Dorian Gray was very nice, so he must be a good person, he made a painting for his father and his father seemed to like him, which means he must be a good person right?
“My son is just shy around new people” Geppetto could tell Pinocchio was nervous but there was nothing to be afraid of, Dorian might be a bit egocentric but that didn’t mean he was a bad person.
Dorian couldn’t get Pinocchio out of his mind, he was handsome, and he would forever look that way, if only he had a body like that, if only he knew his secret, the boy certainly wasn’t 100% a puppet, if he got his hands in whatever it is that makes him like that…
“Geppetto we simply must catch up, it’s been so long, please come to my house for dinner”
“Oh no, Dorian that’s just too much” Geppetto didn’t want to take too much of his time, Dorian is a famous painter, a very busy man.
“It’s no bother at all, I insist you and your son come along with me” Dorian insisted as much as he could, and eventually Geppetto relented, they made plans to meet with Dorian that night.
——-
At night, they arrived at his home, well his mansion that is, it was huge, although not as big as Venigni’s place, Dorian Gray wasted no time and showed them the place and led them to the dining table.
“Pardon me if this is an intrusive question, but are you able to eat?” He asked Pinocchio.
The boy nodded, and they all sat down, they made small talk while eating, and the short version of how Pinocchio had saved Krat was given to him.
Dorian watched the boy, it was an intense gaze, yet he knew how to cover it up, everything about him was so fascinating, he probed him with questions about him, questions that seemed innocent but in reality, he wanted to learn about him as much as possible, he must know what his secret is, eventually he learned what he was looking for.
“My heart was pounding so much, I was so excited to finally be on a train ride” Every since Pinocchio awoke at the station he had craved seeing a train ride in motion, and he got what he wanted in coming here to London.
Bingo, he has a heart, it cannot be a human heart, it must be special.
“Pinocchio was so happy that he cried, although crying for him is not new” The cricket chirped from his cage, Dorian found him annoying, he could tell the two were inseparable, it would be a shame if that little pest got lost somewhere or was broken.
“A heart you say? It must be a very unique heart”
“Yeah my P organ is-“ But Pinocchio stopped, he had gotten too caught up in the conversation and had forgotten he shouldn’t speak about it, “is very… unique”
“Sorry Dorian, this is a secret” Geppetto spoke up.
“Well, a magician never reveals his secrets, I know it perfectly well, I don’t go around and share my painting techniques, I understand perfectly well what you mean” Dorian saw Geppetto take a sigh of relief, he had them both under his spell, he tested the waters and the old man suspected nothing.
“I could tell you liked my painting, every thought about painting yourself Pinocchio?” He asked, he needed an excuse to keep the boy close to him.
“Um, well I thought about it but, I don’t think I’m going to be good at it” Pinocchio looked away for a second, he was embarrassed, The truth is he had drawn a few times but those were things he drew for his diary, he did like them, even if they weren’t that good in his opinion but painting would be a difficult task.
“Then let me give you some lessons, it doesn’t matter that you aren’t at a high level, the important thing is enjoying the experience” Dorian groaned inside his mind, that was so stupidly corny, but he needed to play nice.
“Dorian I think we are asking too much of you” Geppetto had declined the offer.
“It’s no problem at all, I’m on a brief hiatus, the painting at the museum is not a recent one, and I would love a change of pace, seeing you and your son would be great, you are invented to join us at the mansion if you wish”
“Mmmm” Geppetto wasn’t convinced, but he could tell that his son really wanted to try out painting, and Dorian while a bit arrogant was a kind man, he still remembers all those years ago when he painted Carlo, his son didn’t like to stay still for the painting at all, Geppetto had scolded him but Dorian just laughed and commented about how he enjoyed his high spirits.
“Well, if it really is no trouble at all, then I suppose you could give a few lessons to my son, I’ll join up with the two of you” Geppetto finally relented.
“The three of us! Gemini is coming too!” Pinocchio chimed up, everyone always forgets about Gemini, although he sometimes does it too when it comes to conversation.
“Finally someone stands up for me” Gemini was glad, about time someone remembered he was always there by Pinocchio’s side.
Dorian forced himself to laugh with them.
He had to be patient, this was it, this could be his ticket to enteral beauty.
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sunfoxfic · 2 years
Text
A compilation of me thinking that I'm very funny
all from my DJWifi/Alya-centric longfic Strangely Familiar
“Aren’t you the one constantly complaining that Adrien doesn’t understand the price of money and spends too much of it?”
“That’s because he used to do things like buy a whole new phone just because the screen got cracked. If I’m living somewhere, I want it to be nice.”
“You know they sat ‘eat the rich’? You’re doing a pretty poor job at that.”
“Oh, trust me, I eat the rich plenty.”
“Girl.” Alya’s eyes went wide and her mouth gaped, a smile forming in spite of that.
“So,” Marinette started as they all began to serve the food, “Alya runs the Ladyblog.”
Nino cocked an eyebrow at her. “Really? That’s awesome.”
“You’re familiar with it?” Alya asked.
“I’ve been on it once or twice.”
“Are you a Rena fan?” Alya asked, looking over at Nino. He glanced up.
“Uh, yeah. She’s my all time favorite superhero.”
“Really? I would have guessed you’re more of a Chat Noir fan. Or maybe even Ladybug.”
He shook his head, a slight smile on his lips. “Nope. Rena Rouge all the way. But you’ve probably met her like, a billion times, so my fan-hood is probably nothing compared to yours.”
“Eh, formal interviews are fun, but I sometimes miss the days when I was fueled by raw admiration for superheroes. Besides, I was always more of a Carapace fan.”
Nino cocked an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Really. What’s so surprising? I’ve met all of them like, a million times at this point, like you said. He’s the least insufferable.”
“I take offense to that on behalf of Rena Rouge.”
“Oh, please. She’s the most insufferable.”
...(short time skip)...
She hadn’t noticed it when she came in because it was tucked behind the door, but a big ace flag was draped down, next to a red flag with a green star.
“Huh. Are you...”
He looked up before she could finish. “Ace? Yeah. Not something I mention a lot, but yeah. Honestly I’m surprised Adrien hasn’t made a pun about it to you. Unless you were talking about the Moroccan flag, but you already know that I’m Moroccan.”
She nodded. “Good to know. Now I can make you uncomfortable by being aggressively allo in your face. This’ll be fun.”
“Oh, I was desensitized to that a long time ago. You’re not the first person to be aggressively allo.”
“Oh? I’d like to meet this mystery desensitizer.”
“You’d find her insufferable, trust me.”
“Hey, don’t buy into that superstitious bullshit. Not all black cats are satanic.”
“One, don’t believe in Satan. Two, doesn’t matter what that cat looks like. He could be white with blue eyes and I still wouldn’t trust him.”
Alya joined them in the main room, still holding the cat, while Marinette walked forward down the hallway to the bedrooms (most likely her bedroom). As she went, she said, “We are not getting a white cat with blue eyes anytime soon, don’t you worry.”
Nino caught Alya’s eye. “She’s got a point. Marinette’s like one-sixty centimeters with the demeanor of a hamster.”
“Clearly you two have never seen her get amped up about conservative politicians. She’s said things even I think are excessive. Me. I once wrote an exposé in lycée about André Bourgeois by goading Chloé into revealing the dirty deals he’s made.”
“What?!” Nino exclaimed.
“Eh, she’d never act on it,” Nora said nonchalantly.
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
“I’m sorry, can we go back to the exposé thing? Alya, what the fuck was up with you in high school? Is that legal?”
“Pizza?” Nino asked. The three of them grunted their affirmations, and he grabbed his phone and stood up to pace. Though he never asked, he said to the phone, “Can I get one large pizza with chicken, onions, and green peppers, and one small pizza plain?”
“Why are we getting a small plain pizza?” Alya asked.
“For me...” Adrien sighed, looking down in mock shame.
“Aren’t you lactose intolerant?”
“If I tell you the truth, you’ll think you’re winning, but you lose either way,” Adrien said with a shit-eating grin. Alya’s face crumpled up in disgust.
“So have you made any progress on your project for that one class? With what was her name, Professor Dickwad?”
“Yeah, you pretty much got it. And no. I mean, the easy answer would be to say that they’ve gone from super-defenders to friendly neighborhood furries who just so happen to be superheroes, but I don’t know how I can spend ten pages and a fifteen minute presentation proving that.”
“You really think they’re furries?” Nino asked, glancing over at her.
“You can’t prove they aren’t.”
The first person to show up was Max, followed in tow by Kim. As the perfect guest, he had brought a pineapple as a gift.
“Good to see you!” Alya said as she answered the door.
“You as well,” he responded, handing over the fruit. “Pineapples are a symbol of hospitality, and as such, are the perfect gift for a housewarming party.”
...(short time skip)...
“I brought this for you,” Kagami said, holding out a pineapple for Adrien to take.
“Thank you,” he responded, bowing his head slightly.
“I barely know you,” Alya interjected, “but there is someone you simply must meet.”
“Are you okay?” Alya asked. “Did you find something to eat?”
“I’m good,” Trixx answered. “I was just... tired. But I’m fine.”
“Thank God,” she whispered, laying down next to him. “I was really worried for you. I don’t know how I’d manage if you weren’t okay.”
“I am God,” Trixx said. “A god, anyway.”
“Lowercase god,” she said. “And you’re beholden to me, so who’s really got the power?”
The fox let out a very dramatic sigh. “You can never let me win, can you?”
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thelastspeecher · 2 years
Text
Whoops I meant to post this ages ago but somehow forgot. Better late than never, though. Enjoy Stangie becoming canon in the Bakery AU.
———————————————————————————————————–
              Angie was singing something.  Stan looked up from his newspaper to stare.  From his spot on the couch, he could see Angie cooking in the kitchen.  The apartment above the bakery could be cramped quarters at times, but Stan didn’t really mind.
              It’s still a roof over my head.  Not to mention, Angie and Lute are pretty good roommates.  As Stan watched Angie singing, though, he felt a familiar yearning.  He wanted her to be more than his roommate.  And I wanna hear her sing more.  It’s nice.
              “Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars,” Angie warbled cheerfully.  Stan turned his attention back to his newspaper.
              “Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars,” he sang under his breath.
              “Oh.”  Stan looked up again.  Angie stood stock-still, her eyes wide.  “I- I didn’t realize ya were there,” she stammered nervously.  Stan shrugged.  “S-sorry.”
              “Why are you sorry?” Stan asked.  Angie turned pink.
              “Well, I was subjectin’ ya to my singin’,” Angie mumbled.
              “You said that like you don’t have a good singing voice,” Stan said.  He set his newspaper aside.  “If anything, I should be apologizing for making you hear me sing.”  Angie managed a small smile.  Stan stood up and walked over to her.  “So, what are you doing?”
              “Makin’ some dinner.”
              “Whatcha making?”
              “Chili.”
              “Nice,” Stan said, nodding appreciatively.  Angie elbowed him.
              “I certainly hope ya like it.  I ain’t makin’ ya a special dinner.”
              “What happened to that southern hospitality of yours?” Stan teased.  Angie laughed.  The sound made butterflies flutter in Stan’s stomach.
              “That southern hospitality wore off once ya formally moved in with Lute ‘n me.”
              “Huh.  Well, that explains why Lute barged in on me while I was shaving earlier.”
              “He barged in on ya ‘cause we’ve only got the one bathroom and you were in there fer ages!  And ya still weren’t done when he kicked ya out.”  Angie propped a hand on one hip.  “What took ya so long?”
              “Look, men in the Pines family have a real rough time shaving.  It’s not my fault.  It’s genetic,” Stan said.  Angie giggled.
              “I feel bad fer any sons ya might have, then.”
              “Are you saying I’ve got a kid already?” Stan asked, confused.  Angie’s eyes widened.
              “Oh, no!  Sorry, I just meant that when ya settle down with someone, if ya have a son with ‘em, that was the son I was referrin’ to.”
              “Settle down, huh?”  Stan rested his elbow on top of Angie’s shoulder.  “What makes you think I’ll settle down with anyone?”
              “Oh, hush.”  Angie fake-swatted him with the wooden spoon.  “You try to give off such big, bad energy, but I can see right through ya, Stanley Pines.  Yer just a big softie.  You want to find someone to marry ‘n have kids with ‘n raise ‘em to throw footballs or whatever.”
              “At this point, I’m probably gonna wind up raising my future kids to bake cupcakes,” Stan mumbled, thinking about the bakery below their feet.  Angie nodded.
              “Same here.”
              “You want kids?”
              “Yeah.”  Angie smiled faintly.  “My folks were good parents.  I want to pay it forward ‘n make sure I parent someone else well, too.”
              “Huh.”  Stan’s elbow slipped off Angie’s shoulder.  She cocked her head at him curiously.  “I want kids, but for the opposite reason, I guess.  My folks weren’t that great.  I wanna make sure I make up for it by being a good dad.”
              “Aw.”  Angie’s smile broadened.  “See?  Yer just a big softie.”  She set down the wooden spoon to tug at Stan’s hair, which was starting to get long.  “Just as soft as yer hair.  Ya must use a lot of product.”  Stan spluttered incoherently for a few moments.  Mirth sparkled in Angie’s bright blue eyes.
              “You’re only allowed to tug on my rat tail if we’re in bed,” Stan finally managed.  He winced.
              No way she’s gonna handle that well.
              “Is that so?”
              Huh?
              “Is there somethin’ ya want to tell me?” Angie asked pointedly.  Stan could only open and close his mouth silently, at a loss for words.  Angie rolled her eyes.  “Stan.  Quit beatin’ ‘round the bush and-”  Stan grabbed Angie’s waist and pulled her in for a kiss.  Her eyes widened, but she didn’t pull away.
              “Turn off the stove if none of ya are watchin’ it,” an irritable voice snapped.  Stan and Angie broke apart.  Lute stood in the kitchen, face red.  “Or do ya want to burn down our home and workplace in one go?”
              “Lute, it’s okay, I was right here,” Angie said.  Lute scowled.  He shot a venomous glare at Stan, then stormed out of the kitchen, into the living room, and into the room he and Stan shared.  “Oh, dear.”
              “He’s not gonna be an overprotective brother or something, is he?” Stan asked, suddenly worried.
              Angie might be a better marksman than Lute, but he’s still scarily comfortable with a gun.
              “Well, probably, but that’s not the cause of his issues,” Angie said.  She turned back to the chili, picking up the wooden spoon and stirring the stew.  “He’s just a sore loser.  We both are.”  Stan stared at her.  “What?”
              “Sore loser?  What does that have to do with me kissing you?”
              “Well…”  Angie looked away, visibly abashed.  “We may have both developed feelin’s fer ya, and to keep things civil, agreed that you would make the first move.”  Stan’s jaw dropped.  “Are ya all right?”
              “I- I-”  Stan ran a hand through his hair.  “You both got crushes on me?” he croaked.  Angie nodded.  “Why?”  Angie shrugged.
              “Fer whatever reasons ya catch feelin’s fer someone.”
              “But- but-”
              “Do ya need a drink of water or somethin’?”
              “I think I need a drink of something harder than water,” Stan managed.  He shook his head.  “You’ve got a thing for me?”
              “I didn’t run off to grab my shotgun when ya kissed me just now, did I?” Angie asked.  Stan chuckled weakly.
              “No, you didn’t.”
              “Exactly.”  Angie tilted her head, smiling sweetly.  “I’ve wanted to kiss ya fer a while now.”
              “Since the cake thing?”
              When I knocked over a wedding cake onto us and we got covered in crumbs and frosting.
              “Before.”  Angie sighed.  “But like I said, Lute ‘n I wanted to be fair, so we waited fer you to be the one to make a move.  That way, you’d be with whichever one of us ya liked more anyways.”
              That explains why the cake thing pissed Lute off so much.  Neither Angie or I was upset by it, which meant we both liked each other.
              “Is he gonna be okay?” Stan asked quietly.  He looked off in the direction of his and Lute’s room.  “I sorta sleep in the same room as him.”
              “Maybe sleep on the couch fer a bit,” Angie suggested.  “But honestly, he just needs some time ‘n space.  He’ll be back to normal ‘fore ya know it.  Plenty of cute fellers come into the bakery.  Lute will find a new crush soon.  Especially since nothin’ came of this one.”
              “You say that like you’ve got experience with this,” Stan said dryly.
              “Lute’s a hopeless romantic, but also a bit of a serial romantic.  I’m used to him findin’ a new squeeze awful soon after gettin’ his heart broke by his last one.”  Angie shrugged again.  “Just somethin’ ya get used to.”
              “Yeah.”  Stan grinned.  “Speaking of getting used to things, Lute’s gonna have to get used to this.”  He leaned in.  Angie playfully shoved him away.  “Hey!”
              “I have to focus on cookin’!”
              “You let me kiss you before!”
              “The moment was right and I was impatient,” Angie said tartly.  She pointed the wooden spoon, dripping with beans, at Stan.  “Now go sit yer butt back down on the couch until dinner’s ready.”  Stan held up his hands in defeat.
              “All right, whatever you say, boss.”  He walked back to the couch and sat down.  After a short time, Angie resumed her song from earlier.
              “Fill my heart with song and let me sing forevermore,” Angie sang quietly.  Using the newspaper to hide his smile, Stan turned the page.  “You are all I long for, all I worship and adore.”  Unable to help himself, Stan joined in again.
              “In other words, please be true.  In other words, I’m in love with you.”
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