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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 months ago

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The true, tactical significance of Project 2025

TODAY (July 14), I'm giving the closing keynote for the fifteenth HACKERS ON PLANET EARTH, in QUEENS, NY. Happy Bastille Day! NEXT SATURDAY (July 20), I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

Like you, I have heard a lot about Project 2025, the Heritage Foundation's roadmap for the actions that Trump should take if he wins the presidency. Given the Heritage Foundation's centrality to the American authoritarian project, it's about as awful and frightening as you might expect:

https://www.project2025.org/

But (nearly) all the reporting and commentary on Project 2025 badly misses the point. I've only read a single writer who immediately grasped the true significance of Project 2025: The American Prospect's Rick Perlstein, which is unsurprising, given Perlstein's stature as one of the left's most important historians of right wing movements:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-07-10-project-2025-republican-presidencies-tradition/

As Perlstein points out, Project 2025 isn't new. The Heritage Foundation and its allies have prepared documents like this, with many identical policy prescriptions, in the run-up to many presidential elections. Perlstein argues that Warren G Harding's 1921 inaugural address captures much of its spirit, as did the Nixon campaign's 1973 vow to "move the country so far to the right 'you won’t even recognize it.'"

The threats to democracy and its institutions aren't new. The right has been bent on their destruction for more than a century. As Perlstein says, the point of taking note of this isn't to minimize the danger, rather, it's to contextualize it. The American right has, since the founding of the Republic, been bent on creating a system of hereditary aristocrats, who govern without "interference" from democratic institutions, so that their power to extract wealth from First Nations, working people, and the land itself is checked only by rivalries with other aristocrats. The project of the right is grounded in a belief in Providence: that God's favor shines on His best creations and elevates them to wealth and power. Elite status is proof of merit, and merit is "that which leads to elite status."

When a wealthy person founds an intergenerational dynasty of wealth and power, this is merely a hereditary meritocracy: a bloodline infused with God's favor. Sometimes, this belief is dressed up in caliper-wielding pseudoscience, with the "good bloodline" reflecting superior genetics and not the favor of the Almighty. Of course, a true American aristocrat gussies up his "race realism" with mystical nonsense: "God favored me with superior genes." The corollary, of course, is that you are poor because God doesn't favor you, or because your genes are bad, or because God punished you with bad genes.

So we should be alarmed by the right's agenda. We should be alarmed at how much ground it has gained, and how the right has stolen elections and Supreme Court seats to enshrine antimajoritarianism as a seemingly permanent fact of life, giving extremist minorities the power to impose their will on the rest of us, dooming us to a roasting planet, forced births, racist immiseration, and most expensive, worst-performing health industry in the world.

But for all that the right has bombed so many of the roads to a prosperous, humane future, it's a huge mistake to think of the right as a stable, unified force, marching to victory after inevitable victory. The American right is a brittle coalition led by a handful of plutocrats who have convinced a large number of turkeys to vote for Christmas.

The right wing coalition needs to pander to forced-birth extremists, racist extremist, Christian Dominionist extremists (of several types), frothing anti-Communist cranks, vicious homophobes and transphobes, etc, etc. Pandering to all these groups isn't easy: for one thing, they often want opposite things – the post-Roe forced birth policies that followed the Dobbs decision are wildly unpopular among conservatives, with the exception of a clutch of totally unhinged maniacs that the party relies on as part of a much larger coalition. Even more unpopular are policies banning birth control, like the ones laid out in Project 2025. Less popular still: the proposed ban on no-fault divorce. Each of these policies have different constituencies to whom they are very popular, but when you put them together, you get Dan Savage's "Husbands you can't leave, pregnancies you can't prevent or terminate, politicians you can't vote out of office":

https://twitter.com/fakedansavage/status/1805680183065854083

The constituency for "husbands you can't leave, pregnancies you can't prevent or terminate, politicians you can't vote out of office" is very small. Almost no one in the GOP coalition is voting for all of this, they're voting for one or two of these things and holding their noses when it comes to the rest.

Take the "libertarian" wing of the GOP: its members do favor personal liberty…it's just that they favor low taxes for them more than personal liberty for you. The kind of lunatic who'd vote for a dead gopher if it would knock a quarter off his tax bill will happily allow his coalition partners to rape pregnant women with unnecessary transvaginal ultrasounds and force them to carry unwanted fetuses to term if that's the price he has to pay to save a nickel in taxes:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/29/jubilance/#tolerable-racism

And, of course, the religious maniacs who profess a total commitment to Biblical virtue but worship Trump, Gaetz, Limbaugh, Gingrich, Reagan, and the whole panoply of cheating, lying, kid-fiddling, dope-addled refugees from a Jack Chick tract know that these men never gave a shit about Jesus, the Apostles or the Ten Commandments – but they'll vote for 'em because it will get them school prayer, total abortion bans, and unregulated "home schooling" so they can brainwash a generation of Biblical literalists who think the Earth is 5,000 years old and that Jesus was white and super into rich people.

Time and again, the leaders of the conservative movement prove themselves capable of acts of breathtaking cruelty, and undoubtedly many of them are depraved sadists who genuinely enjoy the suffering of their enemies (think of Trump lickspittle Steven Miller's undisguised glee at the thought of parents who would never be reunited with children after being separated at the border). But it's a mistake to think that "the cruelty is the point." The point of the cruelty is to assemble and maintain the coalition. Cruelty is the tactic. Power is the point:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/09/turkeys-voting-for-christmas/#culture-wars

The right has assembled a lot of power. They did so by maintaining unity among people who have irreconcilable ethics and goals. Think of the pro-genocide coalition that includes far-right Jewish ethno-nationalists, antisemitic apocalyptic Christians who believe they are hastening the end-times, and Islamophobes of every description, from War On Terror relics to Hindu nationalists.

This is quite an improbable coalition, and while I deplore its goals, I can't help but be impressed by its cohesion. Can you imagine the kind of behind-the-scenes work it takes to get antisemites who think Jews secretly control the world to lobby with Zionists? Or to get Zionists to work alongside of Holocaust-denying pencilneck Hitler wannabes whose biggest regret is not bringing their armbands to Charlottesville?

Which brings me back to Project 2025 and its true significance. As Perlstein writes, Project 2025 is a mess. Clocking in an 900 pages, large sections of Project 2025 flatly contradict each other, while other sections contain subtle contradictions that you wouldn't notice unless you were schooled in the specialized argot of the far right's jargon and history.

For example, Project 2025 calls for defunding government agencies and repurposing the same agencies to carry out various spectacular atrocities. Both actions are deplorable, but they're also mutually exclusive. Project 2025 demands four different, completely irreconcilable versions of US trade policy. But at least that's better than Project 2025's chapter on monetary policy, which simply lays out every right wing theory of money and then throws up its hands and recommends none of them.

Perlstein says that these conflicts, blank spots and contradictions are the most important parts of Project 2025. They are the fracture lines in the coalition: the conflicting ideas that have enough support that neither side can triumph over the other. These are the conflicts that are so central to the priorities of blocs that are so important to the coalition that they must be included, even though that inclusion constitutes a blinking "LOOK AT ME" sign telling us where the right is ready to split apart.

The right is really good at this. Perlstein points to Nixon's expansion of affirmative action, undertaken to sow division between Black and white workers. We need to get better at it.

So far, we've lavished attention on the clearest and most emphatic proposals in Project 2025 – for understandable reasons. These are the things they say they want to do. It would be reckless to ignore them. But they've been saying things like this for a century. These demands constitute a compelling argument for fighting them as a matter of urgency, with the intention of winning. And to win, we need to split apart their coalition.

Perlstein calls on us to dissect Project 2025, to cleave it at its joints. To do so, he says we need to understand its antecedents, like Nixon's "Malek Manual," a roadmap for destroying the lives of civil servants who failed to show sufficient loyalty to Nixon. For example, the Malek Manual lays out a "Traveling Salesman Technique" whereby a government employee would be given duties "criss-crossing him across the country to towns (hopefully with the worst accommodations possible) of a population of 20,000 or under. Until his wife threatens him with divorce unless he quits, you have him out of town and out of the way":

https://www.google.com/books/edition/Final_Report_on_Violations_and_Abuses_of/0dRLO9vzQF0C?hl=en&gbpv=1&dq=%22organization+of+a+political+personnel+office+and+program%22&pg=PA161&printsec=frontcover

It's no coincidence that leftist historians of the right are getting a lot of attention. Trumpism didn't come out of nowhere – Trump is way too stupid and undisciplined to be a cause – he's an effect. In his excellent, bestselling new history of the right in the early 1990s, When the Clock Broke, Josh Ganz shows us the swamp that bred Trump, with such main characters as the fascist eugenicist Sam Francis:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9780374605445/whentheclockbroke

Ganz joins the likes of the Know Your Enemy podcast, an indispensable history of reactionary movements that does excellent work in tracing the fracture lines in the right coalition:

https://www.patreon.com/posts/when-clock-broke-106803105

Progressives are also an uneasy coalition that is easily splintered. As Naomi Klein argues in her essential Doppelganger, the liberal-left coalition is inherently unstable and contains the seeds of its own destruction:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/05/not-that-naomi/#if-the-naomi-be-klein-youre-doing-just-fine

Liberals have been the senior partner in that coalition, and their commitment to preserving institutions for their own sake (rather than because of what they can do to advance human thriving) has produced generations of weak and ineffectual responses to the crises of terminal-stage capitalism, like the idea that student-debt cancellation should be means-tested:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/03/utopia-of-rules/#in-triplicate

The last bid for an American aristocracy was repelled by rejecting institutions, not preserving them. When the Supreme Court thwarted the New Deal, FDR announced his intention to pack the court, and then began the process of doing so (which included no-holds-barred attacks on foot-draggers in his own party). Not for nothing, this is more-or-less what Lincoln did when SCOTUS blocked Reconstruction:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/20/judicial-equilibria/#pack-the-court

But the liberals who lead the progressive movement dismiss packing the court as unserious and impractical – notwithstanding the fact that they have no plan for rescuing America from the bribe-taking extremists, the credibly accused rapist, and the three who stole their robes. Ultimately, liberals defend SCOTUS because it is the Supreme Court. I defended SCOTUS, too – while it was still a vestigial organ of the rights revolution, which improved the lives of millions of Americans. Human rights are worth defending, SCOTUS isn't. If SCOTUS gets in the way of human rights, then screw SCOTUS. Sideline it. Pack it. Make it a joke.

Fuck it.

This isn't to argue for left seccession from the progressive coalition. As we just saw in France, splitting at this moment is an invitation to literal fascist takeover:

https://jacobin.com/2024/07/melenchon-macron-france-left-winner

But if there's one thing that the rise of Trumpism has proven, it's that parties are not immune to being wrestled away from their establishment leaderships by radical groups:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/16/that-boy-aint-right/#dinos-rinos-and-dunnos

What's more, there's a much stronger natural coalition that the left can mobilize: workers. Being a worker – that is, paying your bills from wages, instead of profits – isn't an ideology you can change, it's a fact. A Christian nationalist can change their beliefs and then they will no longer be a Christian nationalist. But no matter what a worker believes, they are still a worker – they still have a irreconcilable conflict with people whose money comes from profits, speculation, or rents. There is no objectively fair way to divide the profits a worker's labor generates – your boss will always pay you as little of that surplus as he can. The more wages you take home, the less profit there is for your boss, the fewer dividends there are for his shareholders, and the less there is to pay to rentiers:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/19/make-them-afraid/#fear-is-their-mind-killer

Reviving the role of workers in their unions, and of unions in the Democratic party, is the key to building the in-party power we need to drag the party to real solutions – strong antimonopoly action, urgent climate action, protections for gender, racial and sexual minorities, and decent housing, education and health care.

The alternative to a worker-led Democratic Party is a Democratic Party run by its elites, whose dictates and policies are inescapably illegitimate. As Hamilton Nolan writes, the completely reasonable (and extremely urgent) discussion about Biden's capacity to defeat Trump has been derailed by the Democrats' undemocratic structure. Ultimately, the decision to have an open convention or to double down on a candidate whose campaign has been marred by significant deficits is down to a clutch of party officials who operate without any formal limits or authority:

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/the-hole-at-the-heart-of-the-democratic

Jettisoning Biden because George Clooney (or Nancy Pelosi) told us to is never going to feel legitimate to his supporters in the party. But if the movement for an open convention came from grassroots-dominated unions who themselves dominated the party – as was the case, until the Reagan revolution – then there'd be a sense that the party had constituents, and it was acting on its behalf.

Reviving the labor movement after 40 years of Reaganomic war on workers may sound like a tall order, but we are living through a labor renaissance, and the long-banked embers of labor radicalism are reigniting. What's more, repelling fascism is what workers' movements do. The business community will always sell you out to the Nazis in exchange for low taxes, cheap labor and loose regulation.

But workers, organized around their class interests, stand strong. Last week, we lost one of labor's brightest flames. Jane McAlevey, a virtuoso labor organizer and trainer of labor organizers, died of cancer at 57:

https://jacobin.com/2024/07/jane-mcalevey-strategy-organizing-obituary

McAlevey fought to win. She was skeptical of platitudes like "speaking truth to power," always demanding an explanation for how the speech would become action. In her classic book A Collective Bargain, she describes how she built worker power:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/23/a-collective-bargain/

McAlevey helped organize a string of successful strikes, including the 2019 LA teachers' strike. Her method was straightforward: all you have to do to win a strike or a union drive is figure out how to convince every single worker in the shop to back the union. That's all.

Of course, it's harder than it sounds. All the problems that plague every coalition – especially the progressive liberal/left coalition – are present on the shop floor. Some workers don't like each other. Some don't see their interests aligned with others. Some are ornery. Some are convinced that victory is impossible.

McAlevey laid out a program for organizing that involved figuring out how to reach every single worker, to converse with them, listen to them, understand them, and win them over. I've never read or heard anyone speak more clearly, practically and inspirationally about coalition building.

Biden was never my candidate. I supported three other candidates ahead of him in 2020. When he got into office and started doing a small number of things I really liked, it didn't make me like him. I knew who he was: the Senator from MBNA, whose long political career was full of bills, votes and speeches that proved that while we might have some common goals, we didn't want the same America or the same world.

My interest in Biden over the past four years has had two areas of focus: how can I get him to do more of the things that will make us all better off, and do less of the things that make the world worse. When I think about the next four years, I'm thinking about the same things. A Trump presidency will contain far more bad things and far fewer good ones.

Many people I like and trust have pointed out that they don't like Biden and think he will be a bad president, but they think Trump will be much worse. To limit Biden's harms, leftists have to take over the Democratic Party and the progressive movement, so that he's hemmed in by his power base. To limit Trump's harms, leftists have to identify the fracture lines in the right coalition and drive deep wedges into them, shattering his power base.

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/14/fracture-lines/#disassembly-manual

#pluralistic #politics #project 2025 #heritage foundation #history #jane macalevey #rip #tactics #republicans in disarray #turkeys voting for christmas #rick perlstein #know your enemy #fracture lines #when the clock broke #john ganz #hamilton nolan

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jaeeyaaasworld · 10 months ago

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Car Shopping - LN4

Featuring: Lando Norris x reader

Warning(s): disrespectful car guy, Lando being basically a trophy boyfriend, Lando being a cutie (GOD THIS IS SO AWFUL. I'm sorry but I just got back to writing, pls have mercy on me)

Summary: Y/n decided to finally buy her dream car since she was a child, Lando is accompanying her but the car guy is misunderstanding.

Y/n, a pretty famous model, shouted her boyfriend name in the Monaco attic, entering the living room and sitting on the couch next to Lando, her boyfriend.

"I'm gonna buy it"

she started, earning a confused look on the Formula 1 driver.

"you're gonna buy... what?"

he asked, trying to understand what she was talking about, but suddenly his eyes widenened with realization.

"is it the YSL heels? no, princess, I was gonna get them for you"

he whined, making Y/n aw at his antics.

"you are gonna get them for me? that's really sweet, but it's not them"

she said with a big smile, making Lando furrow his eyebrows.

"is it the Minaudière make up by Dior, then?"

he tried, but getting a shook of head from Y/n.

"come on, Lando. think harder"

Y/n insisted, looking at him with big doe eyes, making him understand in an instant.

"the Porsche. you're getting the Porsche GT3 RS"

Lando said, sitting up with the biggest grin that you've ever seen. with just a nod of your head, Lando was already hugging you tightly, yelling at the top of his lungs as he pulled you on top of him on the couch.

"are you for real?"

he asked, pulling back a little to look you in the eyes.

"I checked if the dealer in Monaco had it in their site, and it says that they could get it shipped here"

you squealed as Lando yelled again and pulled you back in the hug.

"gosh, I'm so happy. are we going now? can I come with you?"

he asked, making you nod your head and get up to get ready to leave.

Time skip: at the dealer

Lando was parking his McLaren in the parking lot when you walked into the big shop and started searching for someone to help you.

the faint voice of someone almost arguing caught your attention.

"it's a girl, shut up John, you got the last one. look at that bag, her husband it's surely filthy rich- hi"

a guy came in front of you, as you recognized his voice as the guy that was arguing with the other worker earlier, noticing how his eyes were setting on the Birkin Lando had gifted you for Christmas.

"my name is Mike, how can I help a pretty girl like you?"

he asked, a sick smile on his lips that almost made you gag. you put a smile on anyway, since you were a really polite person.

"uhm... yes, hi. I read on your site that you can get the blue Porsche GT3 RS shipped here, right?"

you asked politely, making Mike's eyes widen and nod his head.

"sure, come I'll help you"

he said, starting to walk towards his computer, the sound of your heels clicking on the ground echoing on the walls.

"no husband?"

Mike asked, sitting at his desk and searching around for what he needed.

"my boyfriend is parking his car outside"

you corrected him, making him nod.

"you know what you're getting into?"

Mike asked again, making you smirk as you wanted to put a stop to his teasing and attempts to fool you.

"of course I know"

you said, hearing a faint 'damn it' come from the man behind the desk.

"alright, the car is gonna cost a bit much, but I'm sure you already know that since you know what you're getting into. I mean, it's a Porsche, there's not much I can do about it. so... the price is gonna be 320.000 euro-"

"WHAT?!"

Mike couldn't even finish his sentence that Lando's shout could be heard from the other side of the open door.

"that's a robbery-"

he started, but your raised hand stopped him as you got up from the seat in front of Mike's desk. you gave Lando your Birkin as you leaned on Mike's desk.

"Mike, that price is 60.000 euros over the actual price. I accept the fact that you didn't recognize me, but you surely recognize my boyfriend, right?"

the car dealer gulped as he nodded his head.

"now... don't you feel ashamed trying to scam a girl that's been around cars since she was a child and is now in a relationship with a Formula 1 driver? don't you think that I might really know what I'm getting myself into, huh?"

you asked the man, still leaning on the desk.

"I'm far too good for letting you still sit on that chair behind that desk"

you finished, a scoff left your lips as you took your Birkin back and walked out of the concessionary with Lando's hand on your lower back, opening the door for you.

"princess"

he called before you could reach the McLaren, making you hum and turn towards him. Lando placed both his hands on your arms in comfort.

"I know you're angry. why don't we go to that fine restaurant that you like and take a walk around the track, just the way you like?"

he asked softly, getting a sad nod in return as he pulled you close, his lips on your forehead.

"my princess"

he sighed, kissing your lips and smiling down at you.

"I'm gonna make sure we have a consultation with another dealer next time, promise"

#formula 1 #formula one #formula 1 x you #f1 fluff #lando x reader #lando norris #lando imagine #ln4 #lando #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader

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coff33andb00ks · 2 months ago

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for ivy - op

just a quick little ficlet (?) for oscar's win - 631 words of disgusting fluff

warnings: pregnant! reader

His hair is still damp with champagne when he comes into the hotel room. His face is still creased with a grin, his eyes crinkling even more when they land on you. Without a word he drops his stuff and reaches into the pocket of his joggers, and by the time you cross the room to greet him he's pulled out two pieces of golden confetti. They flutter to the floor and his arms are around you, his face pressing into your hair.

"Did it," he whispers against your hairline.

"You did," you whisper back, breathing in sweat and champagne and him. Tears sting your eyes as his arm tightens around your waist and you feel and hear his deep sigh. You've been with him long enough to recognize it. The weariness and relief and joy. You hug him tighter, pressing your lips to his sticky neck. "We're so proud of you."

His lips curve and he lets out a breathless chuckle. "Did you watch the driver cam?" he asked.

You shake your head - you had for some parts of the race but you always turn to the full race view during the last few laps. "No, I'll watch it--"

"Watch it while I shower, hm? Just the ending when I'm talking to Tom." Oscar smiles as he pulls back, his hands rubbing over your bump.

The reason you're not allowed to go to the track. And, after today, the reason you'll not be allowed to accompany him to any race weeks for the rest of the season.

As though the life growing inside you knows it's him, the baby inside you begins to kick. You smile, wincing slightly as a swift movement slams into your ribs, but the look of awe and love on Oscar's face makes the discomfort worth it. His hand follows the movement, and you blink back tears as he bends to whisper against the bump. You don't catch what he says, just feel the adoration. He gives you a quick kiss before heading to shower with a reminder to watch his driver cam.

You settle on the bed with your laptop, pulling up the race replay and switching to Oscar's driver cam while you turn up the volume. As his car passes the checkered flag you feel the surge of pride and joy all over again and blame the hormones for making you cry once more at the sound of his soft little yes!, wondering what he wanted you to see and hear.

"...What a day that was." His voice is calm but you can hear the emotion shaking in his voice. "And um... Yeah, this one's for Ivy."

The baby starts moving again, and you keep a hand over your belly while you listen to Oscar dedicate his win to your unborn daughter. And to you, but you know your daughter, due two days after the last race of the season, is already the most important person in his life. You've known that since you watched his eyes fill with tears over the positive test, and each week and month since has only cemented the fact.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

You're crying when you finally join him in the shower and he gives you his usual understanding smile as he wraps his arms around you.

"Meant to say you first," he murmurs.

"Liar," you sniffle.

"Lando said you'd be mad I said her first."

"Like he knows anything about becoming a parent," you scoff. "I'd be mad if you said me first."

He cradles your face, meeting your eyes. "I love you."

"Love you more."

His eyes crinkle and one hand slides down, cupping over your belly. And you know he means you and the baby when he whispers, "Love you most."

#f1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fluff #me: nah I don't wanna do pregnant!reader #also me: writes this and has more planned

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reasonsforhope · 4 months ago

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I'm worried about the rising rate of young adults getting cancer.

For what it's worth, we've actually made a shocking amount of progress against cancer - especially the most common cancers like breast cancer, and especially in the past 30 years.

Cancer rates have been falling, often dramatically (x, x, x, x, x, x). One of the best examples it that breast cancer deaths in the United States dropped 58% between 1975 and 2019 (x).

Right now, we're at the beginning of an absolute revolution in cancer care that promises to increase survival rates even further. This revolution has been going on to a lesser degree since the first human genome was successfully sequenced in the early 2000s (and in fact, the first gapless sequencing of a human genome was finally finished just two years ago, in 2022), and to a greater extent since CRISPR DNA-editing technology was first successfully tested in 2013, and since medical digitzation/digital communication and vaccination were massively spurred ahead in 2020, by the COVID pandemic (x, x).

Right now, the results of this revolution are only beginning to trickle out into actual treatments. But I guarantee you, in the next one to three decades, the way we fight cancer will be massively transformed.

We're talking personalized genome sequencing for each person with cancer - not just for early and better detection, but even to figure out what types of treatments will work best. (x, x, x, x)

We're talking using CRISPR-based DNA editing to literally cut cancer-causing mutations out of your DNA, to edit the genes of immune cells to better detect and kill cancer cells, and to kill cancer-causing viruses. (x, x, x, x)

We're talking using CRISPR-based screening to figure out how chemotherapy resistance works, so that we can overcome it - and even weaponize it. (x, x)

We're talking using CRISPR to edit immune cells so that they recognize and target the mutations of a single individual's specific tumor. (x)

We're talking new types of testing that can predict if cancer will return years before it shows up on scans. (x)

We're talking using (non-generative) AI to massively increase the accuracy and earliness of cancer detection - which by the way is already starting to happen, there are several AI-based systems that detect cancer earlier and more accurately than doctors do. (x, x, x, x, x, x)

Also, the more we transition to a green, sustainable, and ethical future, the fewer cancer-causing substances will be in the environment (fossil fuels, oil drilling, and mining are massive sources of carcinogens at every point in the process).

Cancer is awful. That is a massive understatement. But the fight against cancer is one where there are so many reasons for hope.

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schoenpepper · 2 months ago

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Here Kitty Kitty Kitty (Housewardens)

Intro: You're a wild little thing, aren't you? Let's see how the NRC dorm leaders deal with you, then.

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread, not much i think idk tell me if i should pop a warning somewhere, it's reaaally long

A/N: My goodbye gift before I die in college. Not that I'd be too busy though, my prof list isn't even complete yet. Hollywood lied to me about college it all sucks (not even started first day yet). Oh this was a request btw so I hope you like it anon. Even though I'm not sure I really followed through with the request I'm sorry.

Masterlist

Headcanon order (on the what he thinks of you part):

Fierce, reckless, territorial, soft to people close to you

You tried to tell Neige you weren’t interested in the National Arcane Academy Culture Fair, you really did. But your best friend is a lot less of a pushover than he seems to be, hanging onto your arm and pulling you right to the middle of the chaos. NRC is dark, dreary, and every corner seems to be black and covered with spiderwebs. Which, honestly, is quite the refreshing turn from the bright white glitter you’d gotten used to in RSA.

“Their science club is doing a cafe!”

The black-haired, starry-eyed boy points at a spot on the map. “It’s not too far from this place, maybe we can drop by and try out their treats.” he smiles happily. You look away (two years is not enough time to get used to the sparkles that magically appear whenever he beams) and sigh. “Where are the dwarves? Won’t they enjoy going to the cafe more than I would? I told you I was just fine sitting on a bench somewhere until the SDC.”

“Huh? Oh, you’re right. Where are they—” you pull him back as he turns, but not before he bumps into someone.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking…”

“Hm? It’s fine, oh hey, aren’t you that superstar on the news?”

The ginger is getting uncomfortably close to your friend’s personal space, so you get in front of Neige, shielding him from this nosy NRC student.

“Y/N!” Neige gives you a worried look, tugging on your sleeve, “I should apologize.”

“What? He said it’s fine already.”

“Ace, are you disturbing these visitors?”

At the sound of the new voice, the young man in front of you straightens up almost unnecessarily straight, back taut and expression nervous. A short student with strawberry red hair is accompanied by a tall student with glasses and green hair. The redhead seems very uptight, with the way he drags down this ‘Ace’ person to his level by the collar to chastise him from apparently ‘disturbing’ you. Neige waves from behind you, trying to stop them while making sure not to leave your circle of protection. “No, we bumped into him, it was my fault really.”

“Ah, I see,” he nods as he lets go of the other person’s collar, “my apologies that you had to see that shameful act. If you need anything, please let the culture fair committee members know, you will recognize them by this badge.”

“Cool, but we’re just going to the cafe. Thanks for the help, bye,” you cut the conversation short and pull Neige away.

“Y/N, that was very rude.”

You shrug, “What was I supposed to do? Didn’t you see that guy has an on and off switch for exploding like an active volcano? Did you want to be on the receiving end of his next outburst?”

“Don’t be so judgmental, Y/N, you barely know the person,” Neige sighs.

“I don’t need to know him.”

Exchange program:

It turns out that you did, in fact, need to know him. Neige somehow managed to convince you to sign up for an exchange student program between RSA and NRC, so you got sorted into Heartslabyul and the guy you insulted at the culture fair is now your housewarden.

Ace and Deuce are okay, if not a few cells short of a brain sometimes. You do enjoy getting caught up in their shenanigans whenever the dorm leader and his eight hundred something rules get a tad bit too stifling. At some point, their dumb (affectionate) tactics manage to work their way into your heart, so you begrudgingly call them friends.

You think Cater’s a good guy, if not a bit social-media-obsessed. You don’t mind having him nearby because he generally just chats about random things. As long as you manage to put up with him asking for a pic every once in a while, he’s not awful. Trey is a comforting presence. He may or may not have Pavlov’d you with the way he always has a sweet treat with him, making you calmer and more susceptible to behaving within his general vicinity.

Riddle is a whole ‘nother thing altogether; you make him mad. Er, madder than usual, at least. Something must be in the tea in Heartslabyul because you and the housewarden in the same room is a guarantee for a beheading. Usually you, but there have been a fair number of innocent victims who’d just happened to get caught up in your squabbles. Riddle is a flame and you’re a tankful of gasoline, always with a witty comeback or something else that’s sure to make every situation worse.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Think a dry, wooden cottage smack dab in the middle of the woods and a wildfire. That’s how you and Riddle get along. You’re hot tempered; pot, meet kettle. You’re sarcastic and snippy, traits that he most certainly does not appreciate. Every time he’s lecturing you about something or the other, you speak. And every word that comes out of your mouth makes him want to collar you.

…Another one? How did his dorm somehow get stuck with the most ‘act first, think later’ individuals? You give Riddle a headache, but don’t worry, he’s all too used to it. He will bail you out of trouble and every stupid situation you find yourself in, but also, he will assign you a 5000 word apology essay each time he does.

Riddle gets it. It’s a sign of disrespect when people touch your things without your explicit consent, and he’d get mad too if it was him in that situation. Does, however, do a double-take when he sees you tackle someone to the ground after you hear them insult Neige, screaming something about “your people”. Turns a blind eye.

Since…since when have you and that duo been so close? He’s not mad (for once). But he does feel rather…upset. You’re always such a spiky individual, so to see you almost melting into the couch, head on Deuce’s lap as he patted your hair and legs over Ace’s, it’s almost surreal. He’s not angry, no, but then why does he still feel unhappy?

Love story climax:

“I just don’t understand. Why do I feel so uncomfortable when I see Y/N together with other people?”

Trey hums from where he’s standing in the kitchen, letting Riddle know that he’s listening while whipping the bowl of cream.

“You’re smart,” Trey chuckles, “you’ll figure it out.”

Riddle rolls his eyes and looks back down at the chopping board, cutting off the top of another strawberry. It wasn’t an illness, but maybe if he diagnosed it like one, he could arrive at a proper conclusion. He mentally retraces his steps and every unpleasant feeling that had welled up inside him. He feels okay, good maybe, when he sees you. He gets mad when you retort while he’s trying to discipline you, but even then, he seems to have started to find it rather…cute? And he gets unreasonably anxious when you’re so close to your friends.

…No. No. Absolutely not.

Riddle Rosehearts is not in love with you.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

You still make him mad, but now instead of being collared, you just need to coax him a little and this strawberry shortcake is ready to fold like a collapsible tent. Make it up to him by being sweet and loving him lots, okay? If it’s to other people, he doesn’t really care as long as it doesn’t get violent. You are exempt from the apology letters though, congrats (he thinks that time writing them could be better spent with him).

Riddle probably needs heart medication at some point, you’re going to drive him either insane or to his inevitable death. He gets a lot more protective of you now because you’re his partner, but please please please at least try not to get hurt. Or try to consider if you might get hurt before doing something. Or how about this, you call him up before you make any decision at all?! Yeah. Heart attack.

Honestly, he probably doesn’t realize that you have a tendency to be overly possessive and territorial of him. Riddle isn’t exactly the type of guy to frequently get love confessions (he should be), you know? So the only time he nottices is when you catch him in the middle of equestrian club meetings or something, and he’s just a step too close to some newbie. Tells you to keep it down and assures you, his love for you is real and unchanging.

Happy guy. He thinks he’s silly when he gets so giddy at the smallest things you do, like kissing the back of his hand, but he can’t exactly stop the somersaults his heart does whenever you’re being so affectionate with him. Regardless, it’s quite rude to make public displays of affection, so be reserved and try to keep it all in private. Will blush at every little thing until like, two years into the relationship.

“Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Neige’s words are cut short when you tackle the hyena beastman to the ground. He looks at you, horrified, and was likely about to chastise you before you pulled out a familiar leather wallet from the beastman’s pocket. “Thief,” you hiss, “you picked the wrong students to mess with.”

“Tsk, [laugh with me].”

The hyena rolls around and you’re unable to control your own movements, rolling with him. You’re lying on the ground when the magic snaps but he’s already running away, Neige’s wallet in hand. “Oh no you don’t!”

You weave through the crowd of students and booths, trying to keep your eyes trained on the mop of caramel hair that was zooming farther and farther away from you. You finally spot him by one of the stages, where he sprints by a tall lion beastman who catches him by the scruff of his neck like a kitten. You come to a stop, panting lightly as you glare at the lion beastman. “Is this guy a friend of yours? He has something of mine, so you better have him give it back quick or I’ll—”

“Ruggie,” The lion yawns, “no stealing during the culture fair.”

“Finders keepers!”

“Ruggie.”

“Fine.”

You get Neige’s wallet back and immediately turn tail and leave. These NRC students are freaks (no stealing during the culture fair? then it’s okay to steal any other time?).

Exchange program:

Something something it’s better to make friends than enemies. While not a saying you’ve ever given a fuck about before, it’s hard not to care when it led you to where you are now. Due to a mass voting in RSA for whoever to send to the exchange program, you’ve been bolted out as the sacrificial lamb (that’s what you get for always picking fights). Savanaclaw takes you in because you wrestle one of their dorm members to the ground on your very first day.

Jack Howl is probably one of the closest things you’ll see to another RSA student in this place. You get along well with him because he doesn’t take your quips at face value (or rather, he doesn’t care for your insults and dry sarcasm). Ruggie takes a bit more getting used to, but he’s a really cool dude when you manage to keep all your valuables away from arm’s reach.

And Leona…he’s like a stray cat. And you’re also a stray cat. And you’re in the same dark alley, coexisting together. You ignore each other most of the time unless the other gets a tad bit too close. It’s not too bad when the boundaries are in place.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

He’s too tired and sleepy most of the time to deal with your temper. Not as if you can do anything about it though, try as you might, you can never win against Leona. You can talk crap about how lazy he is or whatever, he doesn’t care, but whenever you even attempt to fight him you’re already subdued one way or another. Leona thinks you should pick and choose your battles well.

While Leona is a big believer of instincts, there’s a fine line between believing and charging in like a bull seeing red at the first tingle of a gut feeling. He’ll let out a sigh but still, he’ll fish you out of trouble and claim you’re bothering his naptime and he’ll totally leave you to fend for yourself the next time the consequences of your stupid actions find you (he will not).

He’s a lion, of course he’s territorial. So he understands your need to stake your claim on a certain place or item, as long as it’s not something he’d already claimed as his own. Leaves you about it. Territorial about people though? Same thing. Do as you will, he can’t muster the energy to care.

A low growl is emitted from his chest, pupils constricted into pinpricks, ears and tail stiff—Leona isn’t dumb. He knows that the instinctual actions of his body mean something, and in this case, it means he’s annoyed watching you be all buddy buddy with Ruggie. You, the little porcupine you are, laughing so easily with the guy you swore was your enemy, it makes him gnash his teeth in anger (envy).

Love story climax:

He can’t get you out of his head.

The few months you’ve been at NRC, you’ve started to become an existence that he didn’t mind constantly having around. He’d found you annoying at first, so why is it that now, just seeing you so happy with Ruggie is enough to drive him insane? He keeps his eyes closed but he can’t sleep. You’re still lingering in his vision, a hazy mirage by the moonlight of the savanna. Why can’t he stop thinking about you?

Why can’t he stop thinking about your hair and how soft it looked to touch? Why can’t he stop thinking about how incredible your skin would feel on his? Why can’t he stop thinking about your lips…?

Fuck.

Leona rolls over in his bed, burying his face in a pillow. Maybe if he suffocated to death he wouldn’t be haunted by thoughts of you. But, if you’re so willing to be close to Ruggie, why not Leona? He could be your…friend too. Do you already think of him as a friend? You tend to run to him with that stupid smile and chatter away even when he tells you to go away, is that a sign that you saw him as some sort of confidant? Whatever.

Leona’s not good with emotions, but he’s the farthest thing from a coward.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Okay wildfire, Leona likes it, but you need to tone it down a bit unless you want your ass handed back to you on a platter. No he’s not threatening you, it’s just that you should already know the folks in NRC aren’t scared of fights. No he doesn’t care that you’re not scared of fights. Stop picking fights. If you sass him back enough he will sling you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

There’s a reason why he always has one hand on you, whether on your hip or the back of your neck. It’s not because he’s a clingy kitty (stop teasing, he’s not a cat!), rather, it’s so he can easily stop you when a situation arises and you decide on something he wishes you didn’t decide on. Now that you’re in a relationship, he’ll sit you down and start a long discussion on why you should learn to think before you act.

Let’s get something straight, you are part of his territory, not the other way around. He’s just as protective and possessive of you as you are to him, if not more, so pretty much everyone knows to book it when they see you two together. Any poor soul who has a crush on either of you quickly get the picture.

Tsk, you’re so clingy (affectionate). Unlike most guys on the list, Leona doesn’t give two shits about other people, ergo, he doesn’t care when you kiss or touch him in public. In fact, he encourages it. Go ahead, mark him up. But if he reciprocates, he’ll tell you he’s just doing what you’ve been doing, so you have no right to refuse.

You knew it was instantly trouble when the person he bumped into had all the tells of a bad mood. You push Neige behind you while he apologizes profusely to the stranger. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there, I’m so sorry!” His words obviously went unheard because this annoyingly tall NRC student only grimaced, and you know from experience that when someone bares their teeth at you, it means they haven’t forgiven your pitiful apology.

“You can’t see where you’re going, hah, maybe I should squeeze you ‘til your eyes pop out? Maybe you’ll see it then?”

Let it be known that though you were half this asshole’s size, that did not mean you were going to take this lying down.

“Hey, back off. He said it was an accident.”

You feel Neige tugging on your sleeve. “Hey, Y/N let’s just—”

“I don’t care if it was an accident, I’m in a slump and you just made it worse, y’know?”

“Well I don’t care if you don’t care. You better back off before I take your slump and shove it down your stupid—”

Another unfamiliar figure approaches, this one shorter than the asshole, with purplish-white hair and glasses, yet somehow looking just as dangerous with the kind smile he has on. He gives the guy in front of you a very pissed-off look behind the carefully maintained grin. You think he might be trying to whisper, but it’s not very quiet.

“Floyd! I told you to sell the drinks while Jade and I are gone, what are you doing here?”

“Ehhh, but I didn’t feel like selling drinks.”

They’re gone before you even know what’s going on.

The interaction only cemented what you’d known before you even got here; everyone in NRC is a weirdo.

Exchange program:

Apparently, someone’s great idea for a prank is signing you up to be an exchange student to NRC. So, hurray.

You’re plopped into Octavinelle because the very reliable headmaster of NRC drew lots from some magical (rigged) thing. It doesn’t take you too long to realize that the quick-to-violence guy you’d met a little while back is one of the frontrunners of the dormitory. Thankfully, your second meeting has Floyd in a better mood than before, and he decides that you’re interesting before bestowing you your very own nickname; catfish. You do not appreciate it.

Jade is easy enough to get along with, you’ve discovered it’s good to just do as he says and as long as he has nothing to gain from it, he won’t torment you (too much). Though, he does make your hackles rise every once in a while because dear Seven he gives you the heebie-jeebies, even despite the perfectly polite thing he has going on.

Azul, it takes you way too long to befriend. He starts off avoiding you almost entirely, like you’re a contagious disease (if only you knew). You’re not the type to suck up to anyone, and definitely not the type to force close proximity with someone who seems to hate you, so you leave him alone. Eventually, one potion explosion, two torn contracts, and one messed up lounge later, you and Azul become acquaintances. Friends, maybe. Uh, tentatively.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Azul thinks you’re unnecessarily high-strung. Well, where do you get the energy to always be so combative and hot-tempered? He’d rather stay away from people like you when business isn’t involved. He’s one to always keep calm and cool after all, he doesn’t think he’d get along with you at all.

Your tendency to act according to your nature and intuition and just general however you feel like acting, it’s an enigma for sure. Azul prefers a plan and at least three other backup plans, so you running headfirst into any situation makes him sigh and take another step back from you. Sevens know it might be contagious (does not call you stupid to your face, but to your back? Absolutely).

The first time he saw you almost bite Floyd’s head off for just touching your things without your permission, it was enough for him to put another strike on his record. Oh dear, you really are a handful, aren’t you? Does not realize your territorialism extends to people until Jade showed him what happened to the last student that tried messing with one of the dwarves.

Azul thinks he needs new glasses. Is that you? Looking so sweet and cuddly with your friends? Really? He gets flashbacks to when you almost scratched his eyes out that time he tried roping you into one of his contracts. Now seeing you all clingy with that celebrity, he feels…uncomfortable. It must be because you’re acting strange (he’s not jealous, thank you very much).

Love story climax:

“Yeah their food is crazy good,” you grin at Neige, helping him choose a few items on the menu, “as long as the bill is paid, at least.”

While Azul is flattered at your actions to recommend the Mostro Lounge to your closest friend who’d dropped by for a visit, there’s an annoying, itchy, gnawing feeling in one of his hearts that makes him unable to sit still. He pushes your original waiter aside and approaches your table with his little notepad, shooting you the most charming smile he’s able to give. He taps his pen against the paper to get your attention. “Y/N, I’m so glad to see you stop by again. I assume you’ll have the usual?”

“Oh, hey Azul,” he does not fail to notice the way your tone gets softer with him, “yes please. And can you add some other dishes for my friend here? Maybe two or three of your most popular ones, just so he can try them.”

Azul nods, jotting down your order. Then, he places a hand over his chest, grinning, “Of course, and just for you, it’s free of charge!”

It doesn’t take him long to confess now that he knows you like him too.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Thinks it’s hot 100%, he will die on this hill. While he still doesn’t appreciate you constantly getting into fights with other people, seeing you angry is so interesting to him. Also, you turn down the sarcasm with him, so he can fully enjoy seeing you tear someone a new one. Will not stop you unless it’s beginning to get physical.

His hair is about to turn white. Except, it’s already white. Anyway, the point is that you stress him out very much, as you being reckless means you tend to get into situations that isn’t in his Plan A. Or B. Or C. He bails you out of trouble with a calm smile and an eloquent speech, and it’s usually enough to resolve the situation. This doesn’t mean he likes you having virtually no self-control or self-reflection skills though, you’ll have to have a long talk with him (communication is key).

Azul thinks it’s cute when you let him pop your personal bubble, and he’s very happy to watch you try to pick a fight with anyone who gets too close to either you or him (keyword being try, he does his best to stop any actual fights from happening). He doesn’t mind you seeing him as part of your ‘territory’, as long as he gets something in return (and you don’t get too suffocating).

Watching you curl up into him whether in public or private gets him flustered, but especially in public. Angelfish, the big bad businessman has a reputation to uphold, you know? Still, he can’t find it in himself to push you off when you’re just so adorable like this, knowing how feisty you typically are. Do try to save it for private spaces though, he would also like to cling onto you shamelessly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

Something is off about the person Neige bumped into. Call it a gut feeling, or maybe it was the way the brown haired student was instantly alert, sweeping the white haired boy to a ‘safer’ distance before deciding on whether or not it was worth it to actually face you and Neige. You’re not sure what exactly is wrong, but your intuition is saying that this is not the kind of person your all-too-naive friend is supposed to fraternize with.

“It’s fine.”

His answer is curt, and he steers the other boy away immediately. You share a look with Neige, when you click your tongue and pull him along to find a map.

“They seemed nice.”

You hope there will not come a day when your friend is at the mercy of people with bad intentions, as it is very likely that he’d be eaten alive. “They seemed like bad news. Everyone here seems like bad news.” You reply, finally finding the botanical gardens where the cafe had been set up. You sit across from Neige at a table where some student takes your orders. Neige asks for a caramel macchiato with extra caramel and some macarons, and you opt for something a little less diabetic. “Don’t say that, Y/N. They didn’t even do anything to us, even though I was at fault for bumping into them. Isn’t that nice?”

You roll your eyes, “It’s nice that they didn’t, what, beat us up? Have higher standards, LeBlanche.”

“They seem like they’d make for good friends, that’s all,” he laughs softly.

“You think that of everyone.”

“Maybe you should give it a try.”

Exchange program:

Neige’s great plan to get you more “accustomed” to people is to throw you to NRC in the school’s newly-cooked-up exchange student program. You can’t stop him, because he really is only thinking of the best for you, but it doesn’t mean you have to like it, right? You get put in Scarabia because they have a lot of room.

Jamil is…okay. He’s a lot of things, but mostly, he’s not someone you’d ever find back at RSA. He’s a stressed out nanny most of the time, but there are a few moments when he feels more morally gray than people should probably be.

Kalim, however, you get along with splendidly. With him as your housewarden, you almost feel like you’re back with your normal circle of friends. Except Kalim is like, horrendously richer than them (and a bit more airheaded, though you think that could still be debated).

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Sorry, but most of your sarcasm is going to bounce right off Kalim’s head. He will not notice it unless you’re really blunt about it, in which case, why? It’s not easy to be mad at someone who’s so genuine all the time, and being unnecessarily mean to him is just, well, mean. It’s best to just go along with him. You can’t win against this type of person.

Twinning! No, seriously, you’re two cookies cut from the same dough, with the exact same cookie cutter. You and Kalim are exactly the same in this kind of thing, and it drives Jamil absolutely insane. Sorry to say but whatever trouble you stir up you’re going to have to face yourself; Kalim is no help, he rarely even has to face the consequences of his own actions, much less yours.

Kalim is the kind of guy to unintentionally get too close, like, all the time. No he doesn’t mean it, but it also doesn’t help when your instincts go nuts because he borrowed a pencil without asking. He does notice that you’re very protective of your stuff, but he doesn’t really notice what he does most of the time, though he tries to respect your boundaries. Does not notice it translates to people.

Oh hey! You’re hanging out with Neige, that’s so cool, can he come with? No…? You want some time with your friend because he’s only visiting for a short time? That’s cool…yeah, he can give you guys space. It’s not very often that the Al-Asim heir finds something that makes him feel disappointed or upset, but this is certainly one of them. And the worst part is, he doesn’t even know why.

Love story climax:

You’re such a sight to behold.

Kalim wonders if Neige knows how lucky he is, able to touch you and hug you like he does. You don’t even fight back, only returning the embrace with a smile. There’s a sharp pain in Kalim’s chest and he wonders what he has to do in order for you to let him that close. He’s your friend too, isn’t he? It’s…so unfair.

“Kalim?”

Jamil approaches him with a worried expression. “Are you okay? You’ve been staring at the fountain for a while.”

He sees the change in Jamil’s face when he notices that it’s you sitting by the fountain. “I see.” The words make Kalim laugh. He rests his elbows on the railing and leans forward, resting his chin on his palms. Of course, Jamil would know. Jamil would understand. Jamil can see the blooming feelings in his chest that he himself took far too long to get.

He wonders if you know.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Being in a relationship does not make Kalim able to detect sarcasm. If you ever try to sass him, he will take it at face value. Anyway, now that you’re this close, it’s easier to understand that with his background, Kalim has never wanted for anything, and no one ever really says no to him. He has a tendency to not hear what you’re saying sometimes, only believing in what he wants to hear. You’re going to need to find some time to discuss this with him.

The only way that this would differ from when you were just strangers/friends with Kalim, is that Jamil is now kind of obligated to help you out when you find yourself in situations you can’t (and likely don’t want to) talk your way out of. At some point he just hypnotizes you to stay out of trouble, at least for a weekend, so he can breathe. Between you and Kalim, he’s probably about to overblot again.

Are you jealous? Kalim laughs it off and hugs you, promising he only loves you and no one else! It’s unlikely he understands the nuances, but Jamil assures you it’s better that way. Your protectiveness goes a bit unnoticed, if only because he’s used to bodyguards and being protected, and it’s also very unlikely that he notices your possessiveness.

Kalim lives for displays of affection! Physical touch, gift giving, words of affirmation—his most fluent language is every love language ever. You want to hug in the middle of a crowd? Sure, he might lose you in the throng of people, after all. Want to kiss? Why not? Make sure not to miss his lips, okay? Private, public, with an audience or alone, Kalim will love you and he will do it in a way that you will never doubt his feelings for you.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t—oh! You’re one of Vil’s friends, right?” Neige holds out a hand to the purple-haired boy for a handshake while you look on with a raised brow. “Um, Epel, I think, is what he called you?”

This Epel kid puts on a smile and shakes Neige’s hand, but it’s easy to tell it’s fake. He’s looking around nervously, as if to ascertain that no one sees him holding hands with Neige, and he takes it back as quickly as he’d put it out. “Right, I need to go, it was nice seeing you,” Epel laughs awkwardly and attempts to leave. He’s rooted in place once his name is called out by someone tall, blonde, and annoyingly pretty. You know from watching your friend’s works that this is the person who often played his rival; Vil Schoenheit. He does not give you the impression that he considers Neige a friend the way that Neige sees him go be.

“Epel, it’s time to go back for rehearsals,” he snaps at the younger boy, before putting on a perfectly practiced smile as he turned to Neige, “apologies for the trouble, we’ll leave you be now.”

And they walk away.

Your friend next to you is waving happily while you cross your arms.

(Clearly, that pompous-looking peacock has something against Neige.)

“It’s a shame, I wanted to introduce you to Vil, but he seems very busy.”

You scoff lightly, but at the very least, you try to mask your distaste. There’s no need for you to tell him that Vil likely hates his guts and the very dirt he steps on, not unless the other makes a move on it. “I don’t need to know anyone here,” you roll your eyes and hold onto his wrist, pulling him away, “let’s just find that cafe. Botanical gardens, right?”

“Right!”

Exchange program:

Due to a few…accidents, the faculty members of RSA have chosen you to represent the school in an exchange student program (they want you shipped off to NRC, like, bad). Pomefiore is the very lucky winner of the “which dorm should this kid be in” raffle, which means hell for you.

Epel is surprisingly funny. He’s probably one of the prettiest people you’ve ever met (and RSA is filled with pretty boys), yet his natural way of doing things is so crude, for lack of a better word. He feels good to chill with, and escape from all the prissiness that the dorm (and its housewarden) has to offer. Rook, though, you stay far away from. Sometimes when you’re alone, you feel like someone is watching you. And it’s probably him.

If there was anyone in this entire school that you absolutely loathe, it’s the world-renowned model actor blah blah blah Vil. He cannot stand your flippant attitude and you cannot stand his everything.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Vil does not know who Jesus Christ is, but I assure you that if he did, the name would be on his tongue 24/7. You don’t stand a chance in a verbal or physical fight with Vil, so you’ve learned to settle for making stupid comments behind his back. That he can still hear. He finds you very frustrating to work with, but he does love a challenge. You’ll learn to be more elegant by the time he’s done with you (you will not).

Part of the ‘does not give a fuck’ club. Whatever mess you find yourself in is your business, do you understand? He’s not one for spoon feeding, potato, so all your problems are your own to bear. Vil thinks that basing everything off intuition and instinct is straight up barbaric, but unfortunately for both you and him, you can’t be moved to Savanaclaw.

What are you, an animal? He can understand not wanting other people to touch your possessions, but must you hiss like some sort of raccoon? Fine, he’ll back off if he must. Your possessiveness of people doesn’t escape him, he just doesn’t think it’s any of his business. However, your actions now, in part, reflect Pomefiore which is under his rule and jurisdiction. Watch how you act.

It’s such an ugly feeling, and one that Vil refuses to define. And it’s Neige again, why is it always Neige? He knows you’re close but must you be that close? You’re always against people being in your ‘bubble’, so when he sees you all over that doe-eyed rival of his, it leaves him seething. Stop holding his hand, stop whispering so close to his ear, stop ignoring Vil…please…

Love story climax:

“Mira, Mira, who is the most beautiful of them all?”

Since he already knows the answer, why does he keep asking? Vil’s never pegged himself as a masochist. Then, what the hell is he doing to himself?

“Searching. The account with most comments tagged as beautiful, Neige LeBlanche.”

…Of course.

Why is it that Neige can get what he can’t have every single time? He works just as hard, doesn’t he? If not more. Neige is the protagonist, Vil is the antagonist. Neige is the hero, Vil is the villain. Neige is your best friend.

Who is Vil to you? Do you even think about him half the amount of times that he thinks of you? Is he a stranger? An acquaintance? A naggy dorm leader that you wish to avoid as much as possible?

He’s come second to your best friend one too many times.

He’s not giving up your heart, not to Neige, not to anyone.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Congratulations, you’ve been upgraded from annoying (derogatory) to annoying (affectionate)! While he doesn’t enjoy your cattiness too much, Vil does like a bit of bite. He’ll indulge you just a little, everything’s fine in moderation, after all. Just make sure you know when to tone it down, darling.

Vil is a responsible person, and he expects you to be responsible too. If you pick a fight all on your own, he has no qualms letting you face the consequences by yourself. But he’s not heartless. If it really is too much for you to handle, or if it’s not your fault, he’s more than happy to help you mediate things (or beat someone up idk).

Jealousy isn’t pretty, but he rather likes the color on you. This man is beloved by literal millions so you’ll have a hard time keeping him all to yourself. But if it’s any consolation, his love is all yours, alright? Vil wouldn’t mind a possessive lover just as long as you know your place. If you think of him as part of your territory? Well, why not?

Vil Schoenheit has a reputation to keep. He can’t just let you do whatever; he’s a public figure. So all your lovey dovey-ing will have to wait until you and him are behind closed, locked, chained doors with shut windows covered by heavy curtains, do you understand? If you do, then feel free to adore him as much as you want to. He will return your affection in kind.

“I didn’t notice you there, sorry!”

“It’s fine…gosh these normies are so clumsy, can’t even walk without tripping over their own feet…though I guess I’m not one to talk.”

Your sense of hearing has an impeccable range, at least, more than enough to hear this walking matchstick’s grumbling that he’d likely meant to keep to himself. You glare at him and push Neige back, rolling up your sleeves. This guy might be tall, but he’ll bend to your level with a nice kick at the groin. “What’d you call my friend, you blue-raspberry-flavored lightstick?”

“Y/N, stop it!”

He squealed, seemingly panicking as he backed away. “What the, I say a few words and you pick a fight irl? That’s so lame.”

“I swear to the Seven if another stupid word leaves your—”

“Threat detected.”

A cute, blue-haired (blue-flamed?) robot kid is pointing some pretty big laser guns your way, so you’re forced to take a step back, watching him slowly lower them. “Hello, please refrain from threatening my big brother, or I’ll have to annihilate you.” The kid warns you with a chipper tone of voice, but he’s glaring at you harshly.

“Y/N,” Neige whispers, “let’s just go.”

You weigh your options and decide that, even though you can probably take that six-foot gremlin, it’s very unlikely you’ll come out unscathed with the adorable death machine in the mix. You send the man one last glare while your friend pulls you away from possible homicide.

Exchange program:

The greenhouse going up in flames was definitely not your fault. Uh, totally unrelated sentence aside, you’ve been chosen to represent RSA to go on an exchange student program to NRC. Because no one from Ignihyde was at the meeting (physically), they couldn’t exactly turn you down. Most people ignored the panicking tablet, anyway.

Ortho is a sweetheart, you’ve found, when you’re not threatening to de-ball his beloved older brother. But the catch is that you can’t spend much time with him without also spending time with Idia. Which, ew.

Your housewarden is someone you barely ever saw. But you’ve taken it upon yourself to annoy him as much as humanly possible (no you’re not petty who said that), so you usually camp outside his door to spook him from ever leaving. This escalates to occasional talks through the door, which turns into him slipping you a controller, to him realizing you can’t play if you don’t see the screen, to actually letting you hang out in his room.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Make no mistake, Idia’s tongue is just as poisonous as yours, if not more. The combination usually leads to trash talk that once made Ortho splash the two of you with cold water. He thinks you’re funny, but you’re both petty so most verbal fights turn to you two swatting at each other like children.

Bro, don’t you have a strategy for every level? You can’t win if you just wing it all the time, y’know? Idia’s the type of gamer who spends several hours at a game’s wiki page just to find the best route to the finish line, so you being as you are kinda gives him a headache. And look, he’s not helping you out, okay? None of his business.

What…you chill in his room but don’t let him have some of your honey butter potato chips? That’s lame af, but like whatever. He notices the people thing when he sees you through one of the cameras (that he did not plant nuh uh) in school, about to commit murder because someone called Ortho things neither you nor Idia appreciate. Hey, he’s rooting for you.

It took him like three weeks just to be able to sit two meters away from you without you bitching about it, so Idia is, understandably, a bit peeved when he sees you practically when he finds you hugging Ortho. He shouldn’t be annoyed, it’s Ortho, for sevens’ sake! But it’s not like he can just stop feeling frustrated. He can’t stop feeling disappointed. He can’t stop feeling…wait, what is he feeling? Jealousy? No! Absolutely not!

Love story climax:

He has to look away when you turn your head, lest he get caught in the act of totally-not-staring. He tries to focus on the game and on the way his character is moving on the screen.

But why is it that he feels like it’s a waste of time?

He loves gaming! The online world is his passion, his everything. But when you’re sitting right beside him, he thinks he’d prefer to admire you, adore you, instead of beating his high score at Kingdom Odyssey: Rise of Dragonheart. He takes another peek at your pretty face, glowing by the light of the screen. Your features morph into one of excitement, and he feels his heart lightening too when he catches your bright smile.

“I won! You lost, suck it!”

He doesn’t even mind you gloating, because your smug smirk is just…

Ew. Gross. Blegh.

It’s like he got turned into a shoujo manga character right there. Idia turns back to the screen. “Dumb luck, noob. Next round it’s gg for you.”

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

He doesn’t fight with you as often…but he still fights with you. Nothing serious of course, but trolling each other has become as much of a love language as quality time is. Idia really does enjoy trash talking with you the most, if only because you turn it into a competition. When you lose, he makes you do something silly. Like uh, marrying his character in Sunfall Brookes…

Worry not! Idia, being the super awesome and totally cool genius he is, has whipped something up so that Ortho is behind you at every turn. He can’t support your stupidity irl most of the time, but having his little brother (who is fully equipped with deadly laser guns) back you up is probably good enough. So it’s fine, you’re fine, worse comes to worst Ortho’ll pick you up and fly you right back to your loving boyfriend (who may or may not be waiting to hear about your stupid actions).

While you do share your potato chips now, it seems to have become a bit more troublesome. Like, what do you mean does he love Moonkiss Eclipse the Magical Sparkle Girl more than you? Of course he loves you more (pssssst Ortho can you hide the body pillow before my s/o pops me into a body bag). Your main enemy will be the thousands of fictional characters that Idia loves, so good luck!

Idia’s not like, super great at public displays of affection. He’s not great in public, in general. Your clinginess and kisses and whatnot will have to wait until you’re back at either his or your room, ‘kay? It’s worth it though, you get to see a shy, blushy Idia with flaming pink hair.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“I AM FINE, HUMAN! YOU CANNOT INJURE ME WITH YOUR WEAK HUMAN BODY!”

Neige’s sheepish apology is met with a loud, annoying, obnoxious response. It makes you want to deck the green haired man in the face just for damaging your eardrums. “Hey, cut it out, will you? You’re loud,” you click your tongue, glaring at him, “and very annoying.”

“HOW DARE YOU CALL ME ANNOYING, HUMAN?! I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I, SEBEK ZIGVOLT, ONE OF MALLEUS-SAMA’S MOST LOYAL RETAINERS, AM A FIGURE OF—”

You figure you’re unlikely to get anything useful out of this student whose head seems very deep inside his own ass. Just as you’re planning your escape route (or how to get away with murder), a voice that successfully stops the blabber arrives.

“Sebek?” a beautiful horned fae intercedes from the sidelines, “I thought you were with Silver and Lilia.”

“MY LIEGE!”

This is probably your cue to leave.

With your hand wrapped around Neige’s wrist, you whisk him far far away from this school’s legion of freaks. As good as the eye candy (the horned fae) was, another word from the green weirdo is bound to have you arrested after socking him in the gut.

“Y/N? Where are we going?” Neige asks hesitantly.

“To the cafe,” you answer curtly, “then after that we’re going right back for your SDC practice, okay? I cannot stand one more second with all these NRC students around.”

Exchange program:

RSA held a very, very random name drawing for the exchange student program, and surprise, it’s you! And apparently, during a housewarden meeting, Diasomnia offered to be your dorm during your stay (no one needs to know Diasomnia’s housewarden wasn’t there).

You start sort-of acquaintances with Silver, but he’s actually an amazing antithesis to you. Since, you know, you’re always blazing in your fiery temper and he’s just…asleep. Maybe not antithesis. Anyway he’s a good friend.

Being in the same dorm as Sebek does not make you tolerate him more. In fact, you butt heads so much that Lilia’s assigned someone in Diasomnia to always be watching the two of you when in the same room. Lilia is cool, he’s cute, he’s super fun. You get along nicely with him once you’ve gotten used to being jumpscared.

Malleus, to be honest, you barely ever saw. He’s a bit stuck in his own world, and it’s not as if you cross paths often in your schedule. He’s more a bystander in your world before something (a fight with one of his retainers, you can guess which one) happens, and you finally manage to call him a ‘friend’.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

My, you’ve got quite some courage, saying those things in front of the Prince of Briar Valley. Malleus doesn’t mind though, in fact, he welcomes it. He sees it as a sign that you’re friends. After all, none too many would do as you do and sass him, saying such crude and bold words. As long as you don’t cross a line, the fae prince will smile with a ready retort in light fun.

He thinks your antics are amusing, to say the least. But you know that thing where his superiority complex kind of comes out every once in a while? Yeah, he sees you as entertaining. Kinda condescending. The good thing about this is that he doesn’t get mad at the situations you find yourself in, plus it only takes a snap of his fingers to clean up your mess. The bad thing is that you feel like half a court jester.

Malleus understands your natural instinct to claim some place and things as territory. He’s a dragon fae, after all, and those myths and legends of their greed do hold some degree of merit. This extends to people? How interesting. Watches on with amusement as you tackle a student to the ground for calling Lilia ‘weird’.

In all his years of living, this is the first time that anything has made him feel this way. There’s a bitter taste lingering on the back of his tongue, and neon green sparks curl and flicker around his fingers. It’s out of his control, he can’t help it; you’re so unbelievably unlike yourself right now it’s driving him insane. Why would you cuddle with Silver under a tree like this? Do you feel something for his knight? Thunder rumbles in the distance.

Love story climax:

“Beloved.”

The word is strange, weighing heavily on his lips. And yet, as he watches your sleeping figure, mind almost subconsciously erasing Silver from the picture, he finds it to be a word befitting of you. Lovely. “It will be dark soon,” Malleus whispers, and the prince is brought to his knees next to you if only so that you may hear his yearning, “it is best to return indoors and sleep there.”

Your eyes flutter open; you are a vision he cannot ever hope to erase from his mind.

“Sorry, I was,” you let out a soft yawn, stretching your limbs, “I got really tired from PE. Oh, I should wake up Silver.”

Malleus can’t help the lightning that zooms across his fingertips. You didn’t seem to notice the term he’d used for you, still addled from sleep. You’re focused on gently shaking his retainer awake.

It matters not, for you will be his soon enough.

(How could you ever hope to be more territorial than a dragon, dearest?)

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Being assertive and straightforward with your words is a great trait of rulers, beloved (yeah, in a relationship means he’s planning for marriage babe, keep up). Sass and sarcasm will have to be taken down a notch though, although he loves you, the faes in Briar Valley are old and not very accommodating of your hobby of wordplay. He does enjoy it, however, so feel free to speak as you wish when the two of you are alone.

In this kind of situation, he babies you a lot more. It’s not really condescension though, he believes that you can handle yourself especially since he now sees you as an equal. But Malleus is highly, if not overly, indulgent of the one he loves. Sees no need to change it unless something big happens. Is more liable to clean up after your messes, this time out of love.

Malleus thinks you’re so adorable when you’re jealous, with the way you get so fussy and protective over him. It’s not as if you really have a reason for jealousy, the prince is less ‘lusted after by many suitors’ and more feared. At least, that’s what he believes. So you only have Lilia and Silver to comfort you after a long day of fighting with his many many admirers.

Have a sense of decorum, dear, a public place is not suitable for displays of affection. Or so he says, but really, who is Malleus to stop you if you wish to be loving and sweet? He’ll melt faster than you can even say his name. He will have to hold back on reciprocating temporarily, but rest assured he has a mental tally and will be repaying you threefold once you’re in his private quarters.

#disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland #gender neutral reader #x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twst housewardens

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silverwhittlingknife · 2 years ago

Text

Oooh, I love it!

A few more datapoints:

Just to add onto the problems with the cops: New Commissioner Michael Akins is suspicious of vigilantes in part because of a bad experience in his former job in Gateway City, where the masked "Watchdog" tried to solve a kidnapping case...but got himself, the kidnappers, and the hostage killed. It does seem like this might remind him of that...

Luthor recently got elected president: So, y'know. There's that, too.

Bruce and the JLA have been at odds: JLA: Tower of Babel is pretty recent, and it's been causing tension for Dick and Tim with their teams. Bruce got temporarily voted off the JLA very recently, and I think you could easily have him still off the team (IRL, his get-back-on-the-team arc starts in JLA 51 in Apr 01, and Joker's Last Laugh starts in Dec 01, but it's IMO close enough to fudge). If you do stick with "he's gotten tentatively reinstated," he and Clark managed that by agreeing to reveal their secret identities to everybody, which might add an extra level of tension to the scrutiny.

Tim just quit Young Justice: In Young Justice 38, the Joker's Last Laugh tie-in, Tim quits the team - among other things, Superboy accused him of spying on them a la Batman, and Tim sharply denied it.

Dick's life was actually going kinda okay ... right in time for this to derail it completely: He finally started dating Babs; he officially became a cop with Amy as his partner; and Bruce just adopted him. Of course, it hasn't been entirely great either - he got captured and tortured and his car got blown up around the time of Hunt for Oracle, and then in the aftermath of Tower of Babel Bruce faked his death via exploding car (unrelated to the ToB plot), and that was all pretty traumatizing. Also Dick and Tim found Bruce's secret files on them.

Aaand yeah, Bruce is about to get framed for murder in his civilian identity sdfsfs Yikes!!

Anyway, because I am me, I think this should be a Dick and Tim fic. Maybe uhhh let me think. Dick takes off, miserable and guilty. Tim's currently at odds with Young Justice over Bruce's files and definitely isn't in the mood to face questions about possible murders (and they don't know anybody's secret IDs yet anyway); he's also fighting with Steph (who doesn't know Dick's secret ID); so Tim has no obvious allies because he's had fights with all his friends, an excellent start for a story, plus he's blaming himself for Dick killing the Joker, so he has to track down Dick and -

NO WAIT I CHANGED MY MIND.

Better idea: Nightwing publicly confesses to killing the Joker in cold blood, in as harsh and self-condemning terms as Dick can come up with, so then Tim "confesses" to being the person who really killed the Joker in order to get him out of it.

Dick turns himself in to... I mean, logically it would be the police department, but let's say the JLA. And possibly very publicly, thus forcing them to actually take it seriously.

Tim feels really upset and also personally guilty for all this! If he hadn't almost gotten himself killed, and if he hadn't taken so long to get in touch to let them know he was okay, and if he'd arrived in that building one minute earlier, the Joker would still be alive and Dick wouldn't be going through this!! This is all Tim's fault!!!

So Tim impulsively decides to get him out of it by claiming he killed the Joker, thus making it unambiguously self-defense.

Dick is horrified by this lie and does not want Tim to get him out of it; Dick insists he's lying; Tim is scared but stubborn and very practiced at lying to the JLA.

I think that lots of people wouldn't necessarily really believe that Robin was capable of killing the Joker, and if both Nightwing and Robin are insisting that the other one is lying to protect them I think most people are gonna privately assume Nightwing's telling the truth...

... but the superhero community might find it convenient to decide that Tim's story is plausible, since it gets them out of having to make any hard decisions.

I think one possible fun approach to a story like this might be checking in with various characters to see who believes what - and who's deciding to believe what. Like, I can see Wally deciding to believe that Tim's telling the truth, for the purposes of whatever vote the JLA is taking, and not meeting Dick's eyes as Dick stares at him in betrayal. It's the people who know the Bats least and aren't invested in whether Dick gets arrested who are going, "Oh, come on, it was obviously Nightwing."

The real wild card here is what Bruce does. Maybe he recuses himself and refuses to testify, because he won't lie himself, but he's guiltily willing to let Tim get away with it in order to make sure Dick doesn't face consequences?

Oh man. What does Clark do?

Anyway, I feel certain that the upshot is that the JLA decides Tim did it, and also that it was self-defense and he's a minor etc. and that *handwave* he therefore doesn't have to face any consequences.

I have no idea what the aftermath is for Dick and Tim but it would be fun. I think Dick's furious at him about the subversion of justice part, plus he was really scared that the JLA was going to mete out some kind of consequences to Tim, and meanwhile Tim was terrified they were going to do something to Dick, and ... yeah I don't know exactly how the emotional undercurrents play out there but they are Good.

Anyway so Dick and Tim are both very upset and frustrated with each other and 100% unapologetic because they both feel strongly that they were Doing The Right Thing and that the other person was being unreasonable and -

and, um -

I don't actually know how to fix this but somehow they get released by the JLA and then uhhhh Dick yells at Tim and then something and lots of tension and then reconciliation and hugs?

Want an AU where Dick beats the Joker to death and when Bruce tries to resuscitate him (to save Dick from the burden of having taken a life), it doesn’t work. Just like, he tries! It doesn’t take! The Joker is dead as a doornail at Nightwing’s hands and now the Gotham vigilante community has to deal with that!

Do they cover it up? Because ostensibly in-universe the Bats no-kill rule is part of how they’re able to operate in Gotham without their unmasking being a high priority for law enforcement. It also, I assume, makes them a lower priority for mafias to deal with than rival criminal orgs are. If word gets out that one of the Bats deliberately killed someone, that changes the entire board.

Does Dick try to turn himself in like he later does with the Blockbuster incident? How would that shake out? Yeah it’s a game changer, but also, out of everyone he could have killed, it was the Joker. No one wants to arrest him. No one wants to run that trial. Prosecuting the guy to finally kill the Joker would be a public relations nightmare for the Gotham city government.

Plus there’s bound to be some complicated feelings for Tim about this. Dick beats the Joker to death because he thinks the fucker murdered Tim! The kid who became Robin to prevent Bruce from beating people to death! Tim isn’t going to grieve the Joker any more than any other Gothamite, but the particular circumstance is a clusterfuck.

I’m not entirely sure where in the timeline this incident is relative to Jason’s journey. I know it’s after his resurrection, but is it before or after Talia heals him further with the Lazarus Pit? Because there’s a difference between being on a path of revenge and suddenly having to reassess all your decisions, and straight up coming back to yourself and immediately finding out your murderer is dead at your brother’s hands.

There are just so many complications here and I want to explore them.

#extremely good ideas / extremely bad ideas #i have sketched a dick-and-tim-centric fic HOWEVER #alternatively if it's a jason-centric fic i actually think this could be SO AWFUL for jason #he gets resurrected sometime around the end of No Man's Land and sees the photo where the Bats + Gordon have very publicly #declined to do anything about the Joker: ''you remain unavenged''#but THEN the Joker apparently kills the new Robin #and now - NOW!!! - Batman and/or Nightwing kills the Joker #now we-the-readers know that Bruce was in fact extremely horrifically sad when Jason died #and actually DID try to kill the Joker back then and actually the whole reason Tim is Robin was as part of the desperate intervention #as Bruce violently spiraled after Jason's death - but Jason has no way of knowing that!!!#so the moral seems to be: it’s not that Bruce’s principles were too strong #it's that YOU personally - Jason Todd - were not important enough to him #i feel like he's still incredibly hurt and doesn't want to reunite with bruce #but a batman who *does* kill (apparently) doesn't actually need a red hood so now he also has no sense of purpose #i think maybe he decides to live in a relatively low-key life in disguise and this goes on for AGES #and then you could do a whole secret identity arc with civilian!Jason depressed but reluctantly trying to make a difference in Crime Alley #and running into the Bats who DON'T RECOGNIZE HIM and he doesn't want them to #and uhhhhh something i'm stuck but anyway eventually secret identity reveal - maybe he has to save Bruce's life #and Bruce realizes Jason has a SECRET #and uhhh something and then Bruce figures it out somehow - or figures /something/ somehow #wait! wait!!! maybe Jason is still doing the thing where he's repairing the watch but he /hasn't finished fixing it yet/#so he drags injured!batman back to his place and then bruce SEES THE WATCH and at first he thinks it's stolen and he's furious #because that is the watch that was half-fixed by his TRAGICALLY DEAD SON #and something something fight / reconciliation / hugs #dick grayson #tim drake #bruce wayne #jason todd #dick & tim

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cipheress-to-k-pop · 7 months ago

Text

academic rivals d.g.

Pairing: Dick Grayson as Robin x Reader

Warnings: Some injuries.

Word Count: 4.3K

A/N: Full discretion this idea was given to me by an anon and even though I said I wasn't taking requests I just couldn't resist.

Also @writing2sirvive I hope you find this offer acceptable after not writing for our baby for so long 😭😭

There was always a slight pinch of anxiety when your teacher went around the class, handing back your test papers after grading them and you waited with slightly bated breath, a fist clutching the fabric of your uniform.

Even though you knew you had done well on the exam, you were particularly unnerved by her declaration before distributing the stack of papers that only one person had managed to get a perfect score.

You kept your eyes trained on your desk, waiting for someone behind you to exclaim that they had gotten a 100% but it never came. Not until your teacher had placed your paper in front of you with a soft 'Good job'.

You beamed, barely able to contain your excitement as you waited for the bell to ring.

Of course, you were over the moon that you got a 100. And that you were the only person in the entire class that managed to get one.

But secretly, you were more elated by the fact that someone else didn't.

"Aw, what's wrong Grayson? Your daddy finally run out of money to bribe your teachers with?" You snarked as soon as you caught a glance of the 93 written in red at the top of his paper.

"Sub-par insult, (L/N)." He said flatly.

"I disagree, nothing about me is sub-par, as you can clearly see." A sly grin on your face as you waved your paper with '100' in his face. He rolled his eyes so far back you couldn't resist making a comment, "Roll your eyes as hard as you want, Grayson, you won't be able to find a brain back there."

His friend, Barbara, who was sitting beside him chuckled at this and he turned to her with an irritated glare, "Can I help you?"

She gave him a teasing smile, unnerved by his annoyance toward her, "Oh, nothing, I'm just eagerly waiting for the day you both stop pretending you hate each other and start dating."

It seemed like her comment had just the effect she had wanted when Dick choked on his spit in his haste to argue that even if you were the last person on Earth, he wouldn't go near you with a 10-foot-pole.

"I'm not too happy to agree with you, Grayson but I, very fortunately, have a boyfriend."

His face twisted, "Gross, who'd wanna date you?"

You gave him a fake smile, "Hopefully, not you."

***

"Recognized: Domino, B-08."

You squealed in joy the second the light faded from your eyes, gaze landing on your boyfriend who stood right outside the zeta tube with a giant smile on his face.

You threw your arms around Robin's neck with a giggle, peppering his lips with smiley kisses that he so enthusiastically returned, his arms snug around your waist.

"Do you guys have to do this every time?" Came Conner's unimpressed voice as he shuffled uncomfortably around the two of you making out, "Can you at least stop doing it in the middle of the entrance? People are trying to get places."

You pulled away with a soft blush, smiling at the sight of your sparkly lip gloss on Robin's mouth and his slightly dazed expression. There was nothing like your kisses that was able to knock the vigilante's world off its axis and it had been this way ever since you started dating 10 months ago.

The pair of you were still very much in the honeymoon phase, much to the chagrin of your teammates, who have walked in on you many times while your lips were practically glued to each other.

"How was your day?" Robin finally asked when you had each gotten your fair share of kisses, leading you to the kitchen for a snack before the mission briefing and you beamed, "Amazing! I got a perfect score on that test from last week!"

He raised a brow, "The one that you skipped a date to study for?"

Smiling, you nodded, "The very one."

He sighed, taking a box out of the fridge, "See? I told you that you'd do great! You probably didn't even need to skip our date."

You rolled your eyes, giggling at his pout that you were all too quick to kiss away, "Hey now, I made it up to you, didn't I?"

Nodding, he pushed the box further toward you with a smile, "You did. Which is why I got you this, but I guess it could be for a job well done too."

You gasped when you saw the squiggles of the familiar logo of your favourite bakery on the top of the box and eagerly opened it up, completely missing the fact that it had been sealed with tape and nearly ripping the carboard to shreds in order to get to the treats inside.

The smell of the strawberry shortcake and red velvet cupcake had you salivating, and you wasted to time before digging in.

"Ugh, I love you." You moaned, nearly dissolving into the symphony of flavours and Robin chuckled swiping some of the cream cheese frosting off your cheek before licking it off his thumb, "Are you talking to me or the cupcake?"

You paused, glancing up at him from the cupcake wrapper, "I can love more than one thing."

His affectionate gaze had you melting, forgetting the delicious treat for a second, "Thank you for the gift, I really love it."

Robin happily accepted the sugary kiss you had given him, "Well, I figured, since it had been a while since we had a date in Gotham, you'd be craving it."

You only took another bite of the cupcake to hide your guilty wince. While the list of details you didn't know about your boyfriend was limitless, starting with his name and ending with literally anything else, you felt guilty that he somehow knew even less about you.

At least you knew what city he lived in while he was under the impression that you lived in Star City with Dinah, your mentor. You really thought he wouldn't buy it, especially after he didn't believe Artemis the first time.

But nearly a year after joining the team it would seem that he was still blissfully unaware, and you were planning to reveal your identity to him soon enough. You were firm that you wouldn't be celebrating your one-year anniversary without knowing each other's names at least.

At least once he found out you were living in the same city, you'd be able to have more frequent dates.

"Team to mission room." You heard over the PA, and you grabbed the box with you to the meet Batman and Canary along with the team, unwilling to leave your precious strawberry shortcake at the hands of Wally. This way you'd be able to dislocate his shoulder the second he put his hands on your things.

When you entered the room to find a face that you recognized on the holoscreen, you paused and glanced at Artemis who shrugged in response.

"Leo 'The Lion' Stark, the leader of the cult that was kidnapping young girls was officially incarcerated this morning."

Cheers erupted around the room, and you passed the box in your hands to your boyfriend to high-five Artemis and bring her into a hug. Black Canary patted the both of you on the shoulder, "Job well done on this mission, you two."

The mission that led to his arrest had been an undercover op with both you and Artemis posing as the girls from the private school that was being targeted. Eventually, you were able to find the leader and put a stop to his entire organization.

You had never seen Robin more fearful for your life than during this mission and it was after it that you had said your first I love you's.

"Today's mission is a covert op. For stealth, I will only be sending two members of the team: Robin and Domino."

Robin sent you a smile and you squeezed your interlocked fingers underneath the table.

"If they can stop kissing long enough to actually get the mission done." Conner grumbled underneath his breath and was rewarded with a swift kick to the knee.

***

It happened too quickly.

Everything was going fine. The mission was well underway, and you had observed them long enough to know where they were keeping their illegal servers. All that was left was to input your program that would upload all their data wirelessly so it could be accessed by the league.

Then it all went wrong, all at once.

You don't even remember much of what happened. All you knew is that when you had least expected it, someone had snuck up on you and you had felt your stomach squeeze with a painful terror that you hadn't experienced in a long time upon being caught off-guard.

"The Lion sends his greetings."

What followed was a series of excruciating shocks up your body that had your heartbeat ceasing in your chest and the movement of every single muscle came to a standstill such that you couldn't even make a sound come out of your throat.

You didn't even have the time to think about anything before you lost consciousness, the last thought flashing through your head being your worry for Robin.

And then every single pulse in your head came to an abrupt end.

“Come on hero, come on!” Robin panted as he continued to pump his hands against your chest, counting down the beats in his head to the compressions, “Baby please, please wake up!”

He was in tears, even though he tried to control them, but he had been looking at your unconscious face for the last 30 minutes as he continuously tried to revive you. His stomach was in knots and his chest felt like it was on fire, but he still didn’t quit, he wouldn’t until he passed out himself.

Before he could even stop himself, he was sobbing and the wails he let out erased the count he was keeping in his head, “Someone please help! Please help.”

His communicator lay discarded only a couple of feet beside him, but he couldn’t take his hands off you for a second, he couldn’t mess up the beat, he couldn’t stop the chest compressions because you’d die; and he’d die right alongside you.

“Robin, come in. Robin, can you hear me?”

His chest collapsed in a fit of sobs as soon as he heard the sound of his mentor come through from the communicator. The device beeped with the sound that alerted him of an override indicating that his mentor could now listen in.

“Batman help! She’s not breathing! I don't think she has a pulse! I’m trying to do CPR but she’s not awaking up! Please help!”

“Hang in there, Robin. Someone will be there in five.”

***

"She's alive but her brain was deprived of oxygen for a while so we can't accurately put a time frame on when she could wake up." Batman explained, his voice as stiff as concrete like always but the hand he placed on his ward's shoulder was warm and comforting.

There were so many questions rushing through Robin's head, but he kept silent because a part of him already knew the answer. This wasn't the first time he had seen something like this, while being Robin he had seen countless families, parents, spouses, receive the same news.

The distraught questions would usually follow: would take months? years? is there a chance that she could never wake up? is there anything he could do?

He wanted to ask Batman anyway, he wanted Batman to lie and say that everything would be okay, that the girl he loved would wake up soon and he just had to wait but he knew better than anyone that was all it would be. Lies.

There were those that were fortunate enough for their loved one to eventually wake up. Others would be forced to watch life go by while their loved ones were imprisoned to a bed with the empty hope that one day they'd wake up.

So, he swallowed down all his questions, Adam's apple bobbing painfully in his throat, "Can I see her?"

His father nodded, leading him to the med-bay with one hand on his back. Robin felt his stomach sink with every step he took, staring sullenly at his sock-clad feet. In his rush to change after the mission so he could get to you as soon as possible, he had thrown on anything he could find.

Which resulted in him being dressed in your sweatpants and his hoodie that you had stolen so often it smelt like you; a combination that both comforted him and broke his heart all at once.

When he saw you from the door, a rush of epiphanies struck through him like lightning to a metal rod. Although, first and foremost, he was just relieved to see you. Even though it hurt him to see you unconscious, and he knew that there was a chance he'd never get to see you awake again, a part of him forgot all about that as soon as he saw you.

He took quick steps toward you, wanting nothing more than to feel your skin against his when he stopped in his tracks once again with wide eyes, realizing you were without your mask.

"Robin?"

"I-I know her. (Y/N) (L/N), s-she's in my class." He stammered, staring at your relaxed features with his mouth hanging open. As odd as it sounded, this was the first time he had ever seen you, as (Y/N), so relaxed.

Whether it was a scowl or even just a grimace, you always seemed to be frowning at him and he never bothered to pay any attention to you outside of classes, when you were talking with your friends. He was sure you'd have a mesmerizing grin, one that would reach your beautiful eyes.

Batman stayed silent behind him, and Dick wondered just how many times Bruce had heard him talking shit about the love of his life, having to keep silent to respect your privacy. His cheeks coloured, remembering the conversation from this morning, where he had claimed that he would never touch you even with a 10-foot pole.

If only he had known that he had been pressed against the same girl so many nights prior.

"Does it matter?" Batman asked, snapping him out of his mortified state where he remembered every single insult he had ever directed at you, either to your face or behind your back.

To anyone else, it would have sounded like a shallow question, but Dick knew his father was concerned about whether his feelings would have changed, whether your identity did matter to him more than your relationship or his love for you.

He swallowed, walking up to your bedside, and gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face and for the first time in his life, he took in all your features. It was startling how quickly his worst enemy became the most beautiful person in the world.

"No, it doesn't."

***

You could see the bright light even though your eyes were shut. There was nothing more you wanted than to slip back into your deep slumber but for some reason your consciousness began trickling back into your head in a gentle stream.

You squirmed, brows pinching together in a frown as you murmured something unintelligible, features twitching until finally your eyes began to flutter open.

"(Y/N)?" You heard and your hand was squeezed by someone you couldn't quite place. Your vision was still quite blurry, and you were extremely disoriented. Still, you tried to blink through the hazy shapes in your sight and you managed to recognize a familiar head of black hair.

"Baby?" You breathed out, sighing in relief when he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, "Thank goodness you're okay."

Right before you had lost consciousness, a thought had flashed into your head. Robin would never abandon you there, no matter what had happened to you, if you had died or just lost consciousness.

You worried that in his effort to stick by you, he'd be hurt or worse.

"Me? (Y/N), you were unconscious for two days! Do you have any idea how worried I've been?!"

If you had been any more conscious, you probably would've been concerned over the way his voice broke in grief and his heartbroken words but in your exhaustion, all you could do was give him a silly smile, wishing your eyes could focus long enough for you to see his beautiful face.

"I'm okay now, I'm okay."

"I didn't think you would be." He confessed, pressing another kiss to your fingertips, holding your hand gingerly but still in a firm grip in between both of his. Like he was scared you'd evaporate and disappear before his eyes.

"I'm okay, baby. Just a little sleepy." You told him, feeling your consciousness slip further and further away as your blinks began to get longer and longer and your strength began to disappear, "You'll be here when I wake up, right?"

He nodded, voice thick with unshed tears even though you couldn't see him, "Yeah. I'll be right here."

***

This time when you woke, you felt much more refreshed than you had before. Your head didn't feel like it was nailed to the pillow anymore, but it felt like you had lead in your veins which was expected considering you had been unconscious for days.

Despite his promise, Robin was nowhere to be found when you finally sat up, stretching your arms as much as you could, careful of the IV in your hand. Your eyes darted around the familiar med-bay, trying to catch a glance of the clock by craning your neck but was ultimately unsuccessful.

Was it a weekday? Was it school hours? Was that why Robin wasn't at your side like you had asked him? What about you? What excuse had Batman given the school to explain your sudden absence? Were your parents aware that you had been injured?

The endless barrage of questions was silenced to a mum when you heard the door slide open and you sighed in relief, noticing the head of black hair first, "I believe you promised to be here when I wo—!"

Dick Grayson was beaming at you and in certain angles of the light, his blue eyes almost looked glossy with tears, but you shook your head unconsciously. Why would he be crying at the sight of you?

'Because you're so ugly the sight is making my eyes water.' Would have been his classic response and you practically rolled your eyes at the thought.

"(Y/N), you're awake!" He took a step closer, and you flinched.

"Stop right there!" He quite literally froze in his steps, he might as well have been encased in ice at the receiving end of your cold glare, "What the hell are you doing here, Grayson?"

He paused and somehow you were annoyed by the dumbfounded look on his face while multiple scenarios ran through your head. A concussion, brain injury or something along that likeness. Perhaps the part of your brain responsible for recognizing faces was damaged and this wasn't actually Dick Grayson. Amnesia, possibly? Maybe you were actually good friends with him but managed to forget it all? Of course, there was always the possibility this was a dream.

Your brow twitched at his lack of response, "I asked you a question."

At your terse tone, it seemed like he was finally able to snap himself out of his stupor, "(Y/N), baby, it's me."

You scowled, "Don't call me that and speak clearly; the hell do you mean by 'me'?"

"Baby," He said again, so firmly that you were silenced in your effort to snap at him again, "It's me."

Dick watched as your face melted from an expression of disgruntled bewilderment to the smallest sliver of recognition. Your eyes raked over his body, only now noticing that he was in short sleeves, and you were able to see the familiar scar on his forearm that belonged to your boyfriend. The little patch of freckles near his elbow that you had traced with your finger so many times before.

Your voice was small when you called him again, "Rob?"

He nodded and your eyes went wide, not quite able to believe it. Your boyfriend stood stiffly, berating himself for not handling this better. He had very quickly gotten over the fact that his girlfriend was his greatest rival in high school while he watched your unconscious face for the past couple of days, waiting for you to wake up.

It had completely slipped his mind that you were still unaware of his identity, and he swallowed nervously. Sure, it was something he could easily put past him but were you the same?

Robin knew you inside and out, he knew how much you loved him, but he didn't know how just much you hated Dick Grayson. Was that hate enough to overpower your love for him?

You stared at him in surprise for only a minute, but it felt like hours to him before you closed your eyes and leaned your head back, "Wow."

"This-This doesn't change anything right?" He began, feeling the lump in his throat grow three sizes larger when you turned to him with an expression that was not a reassuring smile like he had wanted.

"Are you kidding? This changes everything! Barbara is never going to let us hear the end of this. And my friends? Oh, they've hated you ever since that incident during our group presentations." You exclaimed, fingers twitching, and Dick knew it was because you wanted to flail your arms around but couldn't because of the IV.

He bit his lip. You weren't outright rejecting him or anything, but he needed to hear you say it and he needed to hear it as soon as possible.

"No—(Y/N), does this change anything between us?"

You paused, stopping in the middle of your tangent to give him a confused glance, "Between us? No. Why would it?"

And just like that, the tension in his muscles evaporated away and he relaxed, approaching to your side like he wanted to and interlacing your fingers, "I love you."

You finally smiled at him, leaning to kiss his lips, "I love you more, even though you said I was gross and that no one would ever want to date me."

"Well, to be fair you said you'd hope I never did, so I guess we're even."

***

"Hey, stranger." It really didn't make sense that after almost a year of dating, your boyfriend's voice still managed to send shivers down your spine. You closed your locker shut before turning to meet the beautiful blue eyes that you grew to love.

It was scary how quickly you completely rewired your brain into loving every single feature belonging to Dick Grayson.

"Hi, Grayson."

His eyes dipped to your lips for a second, mentally scolding himself for turning to putty the second you said his last name. It was weird how the last time you both were in school together, he thought that the sound of his name coming from your mouth was like nails on a chalkboard.

Now, he felt like he had been blessed just by being in your presence.

"I have all the assignments and notes that you missed the past week." You had been ordered bed rest and some physiotherapy to regain complete mobility after being unconscious for a couple of days. Under your boyfriend's watchful care, he had dutifully nursed you back to health.

You smiled when he handed you the stack of papers even though the heft of it made you want to cry. All this work from just a week? All the AP classes you had been taking in order to compete with your own boyfriend had come back to bite you in the ass.

"Thank you. Can I come over later so you can help me out with it?"

It was really a formality that you were asking because you both knew he was obviously going to say yes. But you figured you'd do the polite thing and ask the first time. After today though his room would practically be yours, just as your room would now be his personal hideout.

"Of course, baby. I've been dying to introduce you to Alfred. We can go back to mine together after school."

You nodded, starting when you heard the bell, "I have Physics." You bemoaned, it being the only class Dick didn't take with you. He had opted for a language instead, which you were beginning to think was more useful than whatever you learnt anyway.

He gave you a smile, eyes twinkling when he slanted his lips over yours in a soft kiss and you had to pull away quickly before you forgot just where you were.

His disappointed pout was all too quick to disappear when you reminded him that you'd be going home with him that day, "I'll see you later."

The two of you parted ways with delirious smiles, feeling too much like you were wafting on cloud nine, completely unbeknownst to the small crowd of people that watching your entire interaction with wide eyes.

Barbara, who was stood at the centre of the flock, smirked, and held out her hand, "Pay up bitches."

***

Bonus:

"I'm surprised you didn't figure out her identity earlier, Dick. Aren't you supposed to be a great detective?" Wally teased and your boyfriend rolled his eyes.

"It's not that I couldn't find out, I just didn't try."

"How come?"

He spared you a glance and shrugged, "She asked me not to."

"I don't remember you offering me the same consideration." Artemis sniped but he knew it was all in good nature.

"You aren't nearly as pretty." He replied coolly, making you blush.

***

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@notslaybabes

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

@isawachickeninatree

@uxavity

@battlenix

@capricorn-stark

@evermoore580

@dumbbitchgalore

@fuckingjinkies

@some-lovely-day

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ckret2 · 1 month ago

Note

Hey, so you've mentioned that Bollford will eventually play a small part in the fic... and that got me wondering. What exactly are their sexualities? Bill isn't technically any human gender (I don't think? Like he just says he's male becuase its easier?) could human sexualities apply to him? And becuase of that... what would it make Ford? Obviously he only ever loved Bill becuase he's a monster fucker... but what now? Is he actually plansexual? What's your take?

This is Bill's own answer about his sexuality, from the reddit Bill Cipher AMA:

Because the original comment was removed, a lot of later readers assume that Bill is talking about what his own gender is; but the original comment actually asked what his orientation is.

Since Bill's reply says "my dimension has" rather than "had," and he talks like he COULD file his paperwork if he were so inclined, I'm assuming that by "my dimension" he means the Nightmare Realm, not Euclydia. (If I tell you something about "my town," I'm talking about the town I live in, not the hometown I left a decade ago. Why assume Bill does differently?) So he's talking about trying to figure out his orientation in a context of mingling with alien genders, not his orientation within the context of his home dimension.

From his answer, I can conclude three things:

His orientation isn't whatever was considered normal for his culture (example: straight in a heteronormative culture), because if he was attracted only to The Things He Was Expected To Be Attracted To and never attracted to The Things He Wasn't Expect To Be Attracted To, that would be pretty easy for him to recognize.

His orientation isn't ace/aro, because if he was attracted to NOTHING that would be really easy for him to recognize.

His orientation isn't pan, because if he was attracted to EVERYTHING that would be really easy for him to recognize.

So he knows for a fact that there's some genders he definitely feels attraction to and he knows for a fact that there's some genders he never feels attraction to, and they're not the genders considered "normal" in his species, meaning he can't just make a sweeping "yes" or "no" declaration about his attraction to as-yet-unknown genders.

That's as much as we know about his orientation and that's as deep as I care to take it. He knows some things he likes and he knows some things he doesn't like and sometimes he runs into something new and discovers whether he likes it.

As for Ford, I personally headcanon him as somewhere on the ace/aro spectrum—whether that's ace-ace and aro-aro or something a little more demi/gray depends on my mood, the weather, the stock market, and what house Mercury is in.

Is he a "monsterfucker" in the sense of "experiences sexual attraction to monsters" or the sense of "has a kink for monstrosity and is turned on by the excitement of (sexually) exploring something new and strange"? He couldn't tell you.

Has he ever fallen in love? He doesn't think so. Could he ever fall in love? Is he going to fall "in love"? Define "love". What's the dividing line between "emotionally wrapping yourself around someone who fills you with awe and excitement and the contentment of being understood and fantasizing about the wonders he'll show you and the ways he'll impact your life" and "love"? Define the dividing line between platonic friendship and queerplatonic friendship. Define the dividing line between romantic love and queerplatonic love. What's the precise difference between a crush and an obsession. What's the precise difference between a special interest and a romantic interest. If your answer involves criteria like "the desire to kiss" it's no good. Ford's made out with his special interests. He's spent fifty years trying to figure out how to kiss moths.

As far as he can tell he's like this

Ford's a busy man of science, he's got better things to do than search for his precise microlabel*. (*Ford doesn't know what microlabels are.)

This is how he sees it. Forget about the actions and rituals people assume automatically come with "love" and "attraction" and "desire" and "relationships" and "orientations." You don't need to know what your orientation is. For example you wouldn't need to know you like women in order to Like A Woman, your body would just make you like her. An orientation is just a label used to categorize your observations of your body's instincts. So focus on your instincts rather than your label.

You find somebody. You like them. They like you. You want to do things with them. Don't waste time trying to figure out if you're "in love" by comparing the things you want against a hypothetical list of things that somebody in love would want: just pay attention to what you want to do with them.

Kiss? Go to movies? Talk about interdimensional quantum mechanics for eight hours straight? Hold hands? Sleep together? Bring them to family reunions? Play board games? Live together and jointly make decisions about finances, careers, education? Live next door to each other so you can see each other every day without having to cooperate on so many parts of your lives? Get joint filing tax breaks? Entrust each other to make medical decisions if one of you is in a coma?

These are a few of many possibilities. Maybe you want some of them but not others. Maybe you want some things that aren't listed. Maybe you hate this entire list. Whatever. Doesn't matter. Just figure out the things you want to do with them. They figure out the things they want to do with you.

Maybe you don't know whether you're "in love". Maybe one of you is "in love" and the other one isn't. It's irrelevant! The only benefit to knowing whether you're in love is that it provides a template with a list of things you probably want to do (kiss; sex; marry; babies; whatever)—but wouldn't you prefer to do the things you WANT to do rather than do the things you think you SHOULD want based on how you THINK you feel? You just figured out what you want from the person you like all by yourself, so who NEEDS "love"! You have a list!

Now you two can compare lists! You decide which things you both want to do and which things you don't. You compromise. You reach a mutual agreement on a way to conduct your relationship that will make you both happy. You have made...

... a plan.

(In the fic, I plan to continue addressing Bill's orientation by having him crack jokes about paperwork and answer questions like "do you like boys or girls?" with "sometimes"; and this chapter is probably as deep as I'll get into directly addressing Ford's orientation: "I only know there's been too many aliens for me to be straight." With Bill currently in human form, Ford sees him as "Bill (triangle) stuck inside a human puppet" rather than as "Bill (human)," so how Ford feels about Bill has no relevance to how Ford feels about human genders and vice versa.)

#anonymous #ask #billford #bill cipher #grunkle ford #ford pines #meta #gravity falls #about my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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queensunshinee · 1 month ago

Text

His favorite toy- Part 4 || Art Donaldson x reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v sex), our favorite toxic relationship is back.

Word Count: 6.1k

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

This one can stand on its own, but I recommend reading the rest :)

His favorite toy- Part 4:

"What are you doing here?" I tried to sound composed. My heart couldn't stop racing at a speed I never wanted it to beat again. A speed reserved for one person only. And no matter how many years passed or how out of place he would seem in my world, Art Donaldson entered my life like he was the boss. Like he was paying my salary. With exaggerated confidence and an aura that made me blush. A smile that made my lips tremble.

I was painfully aware that my mascara was smudged after a too-long day, and that I had taken my shirt out of my skirt after lunch. Painfully aware that I had taken off my shoes an hour ago because pacing around the room in heels made it hard to think. Painfully aware that he was seeing me in all my flaws now. Years after the last time we met, and he was just as smug.

"I was in the area, and Patrick mentioned something about you working around here..." he said, as if everything in that sentence made sense. As if the fact that I stayed in touch with Patrick made sense. I nodded, trying to somehow control this ridiculous situation. I'm not supposed to react this chaotically to Art Donaldson. I'm 28. I'm not a 19-year-old girl. I do morning meditations. I drink green smoothies and ginger shots. I'm a fucking queen. But I don't feel particularly royal when I remember the coffee stain on my shirt, or the half-eaten avocado sandwich I bought from the café downstairs. It was awful. Both the sandwich and the café. I’m pretty sure the regular barista hates me because once I corrected one of my orders. Ever since, he's been out to get me. It’s a nightmare. I've considered changing jobs more times than I'd like to admit because of it.

"That sounds... completely normal," I mumbled, and he chuckled in response. One of his legs found its natural place over the other, and his fingers played with one of his billion rings in a disturbingly nonchalant way. "Is a tennis player supposed to have that many rings?" I blurted out the first thing that came to mind, knowing how stupid it sounded. Hating myself a little for how stupid it sounded. "I don’t play with them, and they’re beautiful," he shrugged. "They’re ridiculous," I rolled my eyes, trying to recover from this topic of conversation. "Yours is ridiculous," he shot back playfully, looking directly at my ring. At the small diamond (Art probably thinks it’s too small- well, fuck him).

"Oh, this?" I asked, and now we were both looking at it. I liked it until about three seconds ago. Until he walked into the room and stared at it like it was filled with snake venom. It felt like it weighed as much as my entire body. It felt like it was burning my hand from the inside. My blood boiled beneath it, reminding me that all my plans just went to hell. A reminder that I was crazy to even try making plans. "It’s pretty, delicate," I could hear the mockery in his tone. No matter how many years passed, I would always recognize every nuance in his voice. Every rise and fall in octaves. Every unnecessary affectation. He smiled the way he did when he tried to get under my skin—five minutes hadn’t passed, and he’d already succeeded. How embarrassing. What a failure as a person. A failure as a woman. A failure to feminism. Sitting in my office with a coffee stain on my shirt, while my ex from college critiques my choices like some kind of fraudulent fortune-teller. Like God sent him to help me make some life-changing decision.

"Why are you here?" I asked again, trying to maintain control and not snap at him. After all, we hadn’t spoken in nearly a decade. What good would it do to lash out at him? What would it accomplish to tell him about the therapy sessions, about the years I didn’t believe anything good was coming my way at all? About the fact that because of him, I didn’t believe I could ever be anyone’s first choice. "Why did you stay in touch with Patrick?" he asked, and for a moment, it sounded like his tough mask cracked. Like his defenses crumbled and his heart was laid bare. Like we were 20 again, and he was holding my face, explaining how scared he was to let me go.

"He insisted," I shrugged. The day after that party, Tashi's accident happened. Some would call it karma, but I’d say it was just bad luck. Because even though she hurt me without even knowing my name, I never wanted her career to end before it even began. And everyone was sad that day—Patrick, because he felt guilty, Tashi, because her knee twisted in the air, and Art, because he lost a friend and the girl who forgave him for all his bullshit. Aka me. But he won what really mattered. He got Tashi. Patrick found me that day in the library, refusing to wallow in my own misery, and somehow, he managed to entwine his miserable life with mine. He managed to secure a spot on my couch from time to time. He managed to impress me with lame jokes about his pathetic life, or maybe about mine.

And life didn’t turn out the way I planned. I didn’t discover a cure for cancer or make it to space by age 25. My apartment was crappy. So fucking crappy. But there were funny moments, and I only occasionally followed Art’s career. I only followed his love life when his face and Tashi’s were plastered on billboards. That could never have been me. It would never have worked. It wasn’t meant to be, I’d tell myself every time I was filled with self-pity. Every time I worked a temporary job selling skincare products or transcribing lectures for students. Every time I felt lost. I knew he wouldn’t have settled for someone like me in the long run.

He and Patrick made up two years ago, which was ironic. Because what’s the point of maintaining my friendship with Patrick if not to have at least one person in my life who understands the pain of knowing Art Donaldson? Of knowing that once, he was a part of your life, and it felt amazing. Almost unreal. Almost spiritual. But they made up, and Patrick promised me he wouldn’t talk about me with the smug bastard sitting in front of me right now. He promised and didn’t keep it. Well, here’s someone who’s never eating pasta at the restaurant near my place on my dime ever again.

"He insisted?" Art looked amused, and I just shrugged again in response. I knew he wanted more details, but I wanted him to take a headfirst dive into a volcano. Desires are ridiculous. "He insisted," I repeated, and this time he laughed. Actually laughed. "It's like you two have a contract not to tell me anything. How am I supposed to work with that?" He spoke as if we’d been friends for years. As if there hadn’t been a rupture, a break, and devastation. As if I didn’t have the image of him leaving me at that party seared into my brain. As if my heart hadn’t shattered into pieces because of him more times than I could count.

"I want you to handle my money," he suddenly said. "Excuse me?" I raised an eyebrow, looking at him as if he'd lost a lobe of his brain. "You're a financial advisor, right? Be my financial advisor," he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, all while glancing at the pathetic office I was sitting in. "You don’t want me to be your financial advisor, Art," I almost snorted in disbelief. "You haven’t spoken to me in ten years, and now you know what I want?" he asked, allowing himself to raise an eyebrow in return. "This is a big firm; I can recommend someone who’d be happy to take you on," I tried to fake a smile. "I'll go to your boss and tell him I’m willing to let only you handle my account, and that you’re refusing. I’m sure he’d be thrilled. I Googled him—Albert looks like a guy who’d love to lose a wealthy client," and I saw that spark in his eyes. Challenging. Almost childish. The kind that said, 'Let’s see what you do. You’ll lose.'

"That’s a terrible idea," I declared. "Keeping in touch with Patrick and not me is a terrible idea. Managing my investments will give you some good money," he said, gesturing with his hands, and for the first time, I realized how big his hands were. "Are you bored with your life, Donaldson?" I asked, trying to figure out what I was dealing with here. "Come on, Peaches, you have to admit you missed me, at least a little." And for a change, his smile was genuine. He looked like every word I said could hurt him. "Like I miss my appendix," I rolled my eyes, and he laughed. "I’m looking forward to working with you." He suddenly stood up and extended his hand for a handshake, as if that wasn’t utterly ridiculous. "I’m looking forward to it like a deer looks forward to being eaten by a lion. It’s on my wish list," I said, and he just laughed again. A laugh that was too real. The kind that made tears gather in his eyes.

An hour after he left my dingy office, my heart was still racing at an unreasonable pace. The kind that made me wonder if there was a defibrillator in the building. I tried to remember if I shook his hand at the end of the meeting. I couldn’t. . . . As he left your office, Art felt like he does after a long tennis match. One that he won. A thought detached from reality, but he allowed himself those kinds of thoughts now. He was a new person. He believed in victories before they even happened. And seeing you after so many years in real life, not in blurry Facebook pictures, felt like a victory. You hadn’t changed much. The years had even given you a more sophisticated look—subtle yet full of curves. Your eyes still looked at him with that same spark. With a glimmer of something he could never quite put his finger on. But he wanted to conquer it. He wanted to win.

When Patrick and he reconnected, it was alongside the problems that only began in his relationship with Tashi. Alongside Lily’s birth, alongside the intrusive thoughts that had plagued him all his life, he wondered if it was a mistake. But Patrick was Patrick, and when he insisted on something, he got his way. And for Patrick, he and Art had to reconnect. So they did. Slowly, gradually. He wasn’t his best friend anymore, of course. But sometimes Art thought he was his only friend. Which was strange, because he was always surrounded by people. Tashi was supposed to be his best friend, but she never was. She made it clear more than once that it was a ridiculous notion.

One night, as he and Patrick were having beers at some sketchy bar, Patrick casually mentioned that you and he were good friends. Art looked at him as if he’d fallen from the moon. He wanted to punch him. He hadn’t expected that. It felt like someone had punched him in the chest and knocked all the air out of his lungs. Patrick got over Tashi and settled for you? You weren’t supposed to be a compromise. Art wouldn’t allow that. He’d go to war if he had to. He had no grounds for such a war, but you were too good to settle for Patrick. You were too good to settle for anyone, really.

He quickly realized that things between you and Patrick were platonic. Or at least that’s what the guy sitting across from him kept repeating, but Art wasn’t fully convinced. Everything was too mysterious. Patrick kept too much information to himself. He didn’t share anything with Art about your life, and the more Patrick kept things hidden, the more obsessed Art became.

And it wasn’t weird that he checked if you’d posted a new status on Facebook almost as often as he checked if his infant daughter needed anything. It wasn’t weird that he searched for you on Instagram. It wasn’t weird that he looked through the profiles of all 67 people you followed and hated most of them. Because you didn’t follow him, and millions of people did. You could have followed, and he wouldn’t have even noticed—allegedly.

"She got engaged," Patrick said one day, throwing it into the air as if he were talking about his grocery list. Art stared at him, blinking, trying to process the information. Who’s the person responsible for this? Who’s the person who took you away, and why do you think he deserves forever with you? What kind of thought is that—that someone else deserves forever with you? That someone gets to have a picnic in the park with you. To pick you up for dates. To share a house with you. There’s someone who’s going to be the father of your kids. Who picked out a ring for you. Who’s going to make sure your dreams come true. Art doesn’t know what your dreams are. But he doesn’t want to think about it.

"Is he a good guy?" Art knew that was what he was supposed to ask. That’s what social norms demanded. "I’ve sat with them a few times when they were together. He’s kind and funny, and I think he loves her," Patrick shrugged, as if that’s all it takes to be with you. "Well, I’m happy for her," Art took a gulp of whiskey, too big, letting the drink burn its way down his throat. Patrick looked at him like he didn’t believe him. His problem, Art thought. Let him believe whatever he wants.

That night, Art opened your Instagram while Tashi was asleep. There wasn’t a picture of a ring or a tag of some guy. Tashi got annoyed because of the phone light. Art apologized.

That was almost six months ago. Since then, his life had changed because he and Tashi decided to keep their relationship strictly professional. It was for both of their benefit, though he wasn’t entirely sure how much it benefited him. He was still learning how to function without her. He was still learning how to communicate effectively. He was still trying to bridge the dissonance that came with going home to an empty house, yet navigating press conferences as if he were happily married.

In two weeks, even that charade would end. And he wasn’t sure what he was even fighting for. Because they weren’t truly happy. And you were in his thoughts enough for it to count as emotional cheating if he were married. So he let Tashi go. He was much less broken than he had imagined he would be without her.

'I’m looking forward to working with you.' -Art- He couldn’t resist sending the message. Maybe ten at night was too late. Maybe you were already asleep. Maybe your fiancé was with you, trying to love you. Maybe Art was intruding.

He didn’t particularly care if he was. . . . "I’m going to kill you," I said into the phone, hearing Patrick's rolling laughter. "You're exaggerating—" he began, trying to save his ass. "We had one rule! Just one, Patrick!" I found myself pacing the bedroom while Alec worked in the living room. This was the day after the meeting with Art Donaldson. "He lives in New York and he’s divorced. I felt like a jerk not telling him where you work when he asked so nicely," Patrick’s voice sounded genuine. "He's not divorced," I rolled my eyes. I would know if Art were divorced. His and Tashi's faces are plastered all over this stinking city.

"They’re finalizing things in about a week and a half. There will be a press conference and everything. It’s going to be a big deal," he said, as if it were common knowledge. As if I should already know this. "Sorry I didn’t give you a heads-up. That wasn’t cool," he added, and I could hear him biting into something, probably an apple. "We’re supposed to be a team. You can’t prioritize Art Donaldson’s interests over mine. I fed you when you were half-homeless," I declared. "I still prioritize your interests, drama queen," he continued speaking lightly, as if I had no reason to feel like my world was crumbling. "How is this prioritizing my interests? I’m going to manage his money. I’m going to handle his investments, Patrick. I’m going to see his stupid face every time he wants, as part of my job. Because of you! This is your fault!" I found myself stopping for a moment in the room, almost stomping my foot in frustration. Years of self-work going down the drain.

"Everything okay, Bunny?" I heard Alec's voice from the living room. "Yeah, I’m just talking to Patrick," I replied, steadying my voice into something more composed and responsible. So he’d keep thinking I had my life together. "Tell him 'hi,'" Alec said, and I could only guess he’d put his headphones back on. "Well, hi," I rolled my eyes, returning to the conversation with the chief idiot. "I’m sorry," Patrick mumbled after a few seconds of silence, and I hung up, sprawling on the bed like a starfish. He didn’t sound sorry.

I sat down next to Alec on the couch, wearing just my bra and panties with an open button-down shirt over it. Sexy enough for any stranger peeking through the window. A teenage boy's wet dream. I’m on fire. He kept staring at his screen, ignoring my existence. I started placing small kisses along his neck, trying to set the mood. Trying to seal the deal. Trying not to think about the one-who-shall-not-be-named. Trying to be a good woman. Trying to conquer feminism with mediocre sex, just like Alec and I know how to deliver. "I really have to finish this, Bunny," he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably, making me sigh, lean back, and roll my eyes. "How long will it take?" I asked. "You’ll probably be asleep by then. Watch an episode of your favorite show instead," he said without looking at me. "Can we talk about the wedding?" I tried another angle. "If I don’t have time to make love to you, I definitely don’t have time to plan the wedding," he said, slipping those hideous—massive—headphones back on, ending the conversation. I kind of hated that he never said "fuck" or "have sex" or even used the word "sex" in general. He always treated it like I was Princess Diana. I am clearly not Princess Diana. Sometimes I wonder if he even wants to marry me at all. It’s been over six months since he proposed, and he’s been dodging setting a date since practically the same day. It’s very frustrating. I need to meditate.

"Bunny," he suddenly said, and I looked at him expectantly while he removed his headphones after I’d already started heading to the bedroom, "you have a stain on your shirt." He quickly put his headphones back on, eyes glued to the screen. At least the soup I had for lunch managed to fuck me today. . . . "You can't just show up here," I said as I tried to finish chewing the terrible sandwich I’d chosen today. I think it had mold. "If you had answered my messages, we could’ve scheduled something without me showing up at your office." Art looked good. So fucking good. It was frustrating. Today was the day I decided to skip the contacts and wear glasses. God hates me. But on the other hand, God was trying to help me—making sure Art Donaldson never gets attracted to me. God is on my side. I knew she was a feminist.

"What do you want?" I mumbled in surrender, knowing he wouldn’t leave until he said whatever he came to say so we could all move on with our lives. "To talk business," he smiled from ear to ear. "I'm eating right now, come back in half an hour," I replied, "or better yet, schedule a meeting like a rational human being." I continued pressing my point. "Better idea, let's go grab lunch and talk business over food." He looked at me like a dad who just told his little girl what her next hour is going to look like. "Sorry, I can't—" "Art Donaldson! When I got your email, I couldn't believe it," Albert burst into my office excitedly. Sure, let’s invite everyone. Apparently, there’s free cookies being handed out. All are welcome.

Art kept wearing his unbearable poster smile while Albert went on and on about tennis and how much he loved Rafael Nadal. Albert is clearly a man with vast general knowledge. "She treating you right?" Albert asked Art as if they were best friends, and now they both stared at me while all I wanted was to finish my food-poisoning sandwich in peace. "She just agreed to join me for lunch to talk about my money," Art said, and if looks could kill, Art Donaldson would’ve had a stroke right there and disappeared from our lives as suddenly as he appeared. But no, looks don’t kill, and feminist God apparently isn’t on my side anymore because now I’m sitting across from this asshole at a diner. I ordered a burger because I knew he’d never allow himself to eat one and would whine for hours about how he wants to eat a burger every day but can’t.

"I hope that's okay," I smiled one of the fakest smiles I could muster, blinking as I took a bite of the slab of meat in front of me. "Mmm, it's amazing," I sighed, watching for a moment as he stared at me, mouth half-open, eyes sparkling. "You're cruel," he stated after shaking his head, as if shaking off urges. He looked different with short hair. I always told him he needed to cut it because it kept falling into his eyes, but his curls had a youthful playfulness that was clearly missing now. He looked defeated.

"So, what did you want to talk about? What are you looking to invest in?" I tried to focus on the reason behind this ridiculous meal while Art stole a fry from my plate and picked at the sad grilled chicken he had ordered. Maybe I should stop making those satisfied sounds when I eat. "You," he said, biting his lip like a kid who let a curse word slip in front of his mom. Testing boundaries. Watching as I rolled my eyes. "I'm not going to let you waste my time, Donaldson," and we both knew I wasn’t just talking about business. Because honestly? Fuck business. Art didn’t seem like someone who was planning to disappear from my life anytime soon. He had shown up too determined for that to happen. "I have no intention of wasting your time, Peaches," he smiled, leaning back, relaxing a little after we established this basic ground rule. He continued stealing my food.

"So, tell me about him," he suddenly said after insisting I order an enormous ice cream that was supposed to be just for me. Every time his spoon got closer, mine heroically fought it off. "Who?" I asked, taking a spoonful of ice cream and leaving it in my mouth for a few seconds. His gaze immediately locked on my ring. "We're not that kind of friends, Donaldson," I said, watching as he inched his spoon toward my ice cream, and I quickly blocked him. No chance. "So what kind of friends are we?" he asked, smiling, looking half at me and half at our spoons, still battling each other. "I don't know," I sighed a little, finally lowering my spoon in defeat. There’s no point in fighting. It’s truly a lost cause.

The more Art Donaldson entered my life, the more Alec distanced himself from it. Art did it in a quiet way, almost eerily so. It started with deep conversations about financial investments he wanted to make. About charity events he wanted to be part of. A foundation he wanted to establish. He talked about his money as if it made sense to be this rich at his age. As if he and I were on the same level in terms of lifestyle. He never once acted condescending about it, even though I expected him to. Even though I had prepared arguments in advance. He never once asked why I didn’t continue in academia or why I gave up on medicine. He didn’t poke at that wound. Even though he could have. Even though it would’ve been easy.

It continued with stupid messages in the middle of the day about how he was hungry, tired, or wanted to go home. Messages about seeing a guy dressed as a bear in the middle of the street. Fucking New York. He’d ask questions about my day. Ask what I ate. If I ate. If I was drinking enough water. Never anything too deep. Never out of nosy curiosity. If I forgot who he was, I might’ve thought he cared about me. I know, it’s unbelievable.

One time, he called me at seven in the evening, talking such nonsense that I wondered if he was drunk. I wondered out loud, of course, because I’m not 19, and I’m not afraid to tell Art Donaldson what I think. He wasn’t drunk. He made dinner and decided to call. He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. Said it, and then went on about his day. About Lily. About how she was adjusting to splitting her time between his place and Tashi’s. He talked about Patrick and told me what he was cooking. It was domestic. Like I was a part of his life. Weird.

Alec and I were in the middle of a fight that made me wonder if I was mentally strong enough not to throw the vase that was sitting on the dresser. Not at him. I’m not violent. On the floor, to make a point. “Do you even want to marry me?” I suddenly asked. Because at that point, I no longer knew what was happening. I don’t like not knowing what’s happening. “Of course I wa-” “To who the hell is it obvious? Do you know how embarrassing it is when people ask me about a wedding date almost a year later, and I change the subject?!” I cut him off. “Every time I try to bring it up, you’d rather talk about light fixtures or that time we randomly had an hour-long conversation about types of doors.” I reminded him of some of the truly bizarre moments we’ve had recently. “We do need to replace the door.” I shot him a look that should’ve made it clear that if he kept going with that sentence, I was breaking the vase on the floor.

“Why don’t you want to fuck me anymore?” I suddenly asked. Almost defeated after too much yelling. “What? Bunny-” he blushed. The question was too brutal for him. Too raw for his delicate soul, which couldn’t handle talking about sex. “I can count on one hand how many times we’ve fucked since you proposed,” I said it as bluntly as I could, enjoying his discomfort. “We don’t have to make love every day,” he mumbled. Last time I checked, to make love, there has to be love. I threw the vase. Alec left the house. . . . ‘You’re not at work.’ – A –

‘How is it that we’re back to you not answering me?’ – A –

‘Did you secretly get married over the weekend?’ – A –

‘Seriously, get back to me. It’s about the charity event.’ – A –

The bitter truth was that I was busy wallowing in the current failure of my life- Alec. I binge-watched all the seasons of The O.C. in three days and ate more ice cream than should be legal. But I didn’t feel the pain in my bones the way you’re supposed to when ending what was supposed to be the relationship. I’d once hurt more over losing someone who loved me less.

‘Are you okay? You’ve got our mutual friend worried.’ – P – He talked about Art like he was a spy. ‘Hey, could you stop being an idiot for a second and just answer to say you’re alive?’ – P –

‘I’m calling the fire department to check your apartment.’ – P –

‘This is concerning.’ – P –

‘I’ll call your mom. She’d love to hear from me after that time I burped in her face.’ – P –

‘I broke up with Alec.’ – (Y/N)–

‘You’re not going to die alone.’ – P –

‘I know you think you will, but you won’t.’ – P –

‘You can’t know that.’ – (Y/N) –

‘You’re an idiot.’ – P –

‘Are you okay?’ – P –

‘I mean, obviously you’re not okay, but... are you okay?’ – P –

‘I’m okay.’ –(Y/N)–

When I walked into the hall where Art Donaldson’s charity event for kids with muscular dystrophy, was being held, eyes didn’t turn toward me like they do in the movies. Everyone was too busy with their conversations and stroking each other’s egos. From the side, it almost looked homoerotic—the gentle touches on shoulders and the occasional pats. Almost sexy. Maybe I was seeing sex in things that weren’t sexy because my ex refused to touch me with more resolve than an ant carrying food that weighed more than its body. “You made it,” Art’s voice came from behind me. “You’re sharp,” I shot back as I turned to him, taking one of the champagne glasses he offered. “Is Patrick here too?” I asked. “No, he couldn’t come. He signed up for a Challenger in Malibu,” he replied, his eyes unapologetically scanning me. I felt completely exposed under his penetrating gaze. “So random,” I mumbled. Art’s hand gently pulled me by the waist, bringing me close to him while keeping his hand exactly where it was. I almost let confusion show on my face, but he introduced me to the man who had come over to talk to him, never taking his eyes—or his hand—off me. Not during the next conversation, or the next one, either. He presented us as a strange package deal. If someone wanted to talk to him, they had to talk to me too. Maybe he hoped it would drive people away. It didn’t. "Want to step outside for some air?" he whispered in my ear. After spending most of the evening standing so close to each other, it felt strange to pull away now that no one else was around. "Sure, why not." I shrugged, acting like it wasn’t a big deal. Before stepping out, we each grabbed a glass of wine. "You raised a lot of money," I remarked, trying to break the ice. "You disappeared on me," he shot back, not bothering with small talk. "I’ve been busy." I shrugged again. "Where’s your ring?" he asked. "You’re obsessed with my hands, Donaldson," I said, unsure how to respond to this level of bluntness after being in a relationship with someone who was too scared to talk to me for years. "It’s not relevant anymore," I added, as his gaze didn’t allow me to dodge the question. "Good, it was ugly," he stated, stopping in his tracks, making me stop too and turn to look at him, raising an eyebrow. His expression was challenging again, with that playful spark, inviting a debate. "It wasn’t ugly," I rolled my eyes. "It was pathetic, Peaches. You know you deserve better," he declared, leaving no room for argument.

And somehow, he was so close. Close enough that his breath, smelling of mint gum and wine, blended with mine. "I’m not looking for a rebound," I murmured. "Neither am I," his usual smug smile was gone. There was no trace of it. He looked hazy. Almost captive. "What are you looking for?" I dared to ask. "You," he replied. It was a good answer.

After an excruciatingly long hour and twenty minutes, during which I had two more glasses of wine, and Art spoke into the microphone—stopping me from downing a third—we arrived at his house. It looked a bit like a modern palace. "How is it that you live here?" I mused aloud, and his mouth found my neck as he chuckled. "What, this old thing?" he mumbled, his kisses as sharp as his words. "Don’t leave marks, Donaldson. We’re adults," I managed to say as I kicked off my heels, and he unzipped my dress.

"I want to do this from the moment you walked into the room today. Fuck, you’re so hot," he growled. It was throaty and masculine, almost animalistic. His eyes scanned me like a smoke detector picking up a cigarette. Within seconds, I found myself on the most comfortable couch I had ever been on. His lips traveled over me as if he was painting a map, as if he remembered all the sensitive points on my body. "I missed her," he said, giving a small bite to my right nipple, glancing at my face as I let out a moan. "her too," he added, moving to the left one. "Art, I need you." I tried to make it clear to him that I couldn't handle the teasing right now. That he should save it for another time. For someone else. For something else. I need him inside me.

"Peaches, have some patien—" he started, continuing to place deadly kisses on various areas of my body. "Art, just fuck me. Okay?" I almost pleaded, my voice lower than usual, filled with an inexplicable need. He looked at me for half a minute and nodded. "Okay baby, I got you," he said. And within seconds, his boxers were on the floor, and my panties disappeared too. He was inside me as if this was his home, as if he belonged there. "Fuck. Art. Thank you, there," I felt stupid, but I couldn't control it. I needed him so badly. I needed someone to fill the empty space. That Art Donaldson would fill the empty space.

He moved at a chaotic pace, almost as if he was trying to prove he could give me exactly what I wanted. What I needed. And he was right. I came after a few minutes, during which his cock filled me perfectly, and his lips found mine and refused to let go. He wrapped me from every direction and came right after I did.

"It's like we're teenagers," I muttered, and he laughed. "I usually last longer," he stated, not getting up, his body weight feeling almost comfortable on top of me. It was almost nice to breathe heavily. "So do I," I retorted. His hand drew little shapes on my shoulder. "Let's go to sleep," he decided, standing up slowly, reaching out his hand and pulling me toward him. Not forgetting to give me another kiss on the lips, a small one. As if it had happened a million times before. As if it were a routine.

"Your bed should be illegal, Donaldson," I said after he tossed a soft T-shirt he had in his closet over me. He lay down beside me, laughing. "I can't believe you're here. I was afraid it wouldn't happen," he said, with a seriousness that felt profound. "How long have you been thinking about this?" I tried to sound amused. "Since the moment I stepped into your office," his honesty was both terrifying and comforting. No one had talked to me so openly in a while. "probably before that" he added. "You can't waste my time, Art," I replied, looking up to catch his gaze. . . . Art took a moment to nod. He already had a ring for you. Even before you broke up with that idiot, he had bought the ring. He didn't know where life would lead you. He just knew he was going to spend every free moment proving to you that he loved you enough not to waste your time. Not when you were his favorite person.

How are we doing guys?!?!?!?! Can't wait to hear from you. That's my chance to remind y'all that English is not my first language and I might have some grammar issues. love you all, hope it was a good addition to the story <3

taglist: @lalalandofive @wild-rose-35 @theynothem @angelism13

#challengers fic #art donaldson #patrick zweig #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #challengers #art donaldson smut #his favorite toy

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casuallyanidiot · 3 months ago

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Omg your yandere coworker *chef's kiss*

I imagine he's just frustrated and angry because he can't believe he's fallen for a loser like reader. Like they are such a mess all the time. So soft and easy to tire. They look so out of place in this workplace environment.

But over time it starts to click that all he was to do is take them away and keep them at home. Reader shouldn't even be at work! Reader should be sitting pretty at home like the good little spouse he knows they are all that they are good for!

Man he'll have to come up with a plan to make that happen wouldn't he?

Thanks! He's awful! :)

I think the worst part about Yan coworker is that he believes he's actually a good person. Maybe if he just acknowledged how scummy he was, he wouldn't be half as bad.

He he's had enough of you stumbling all over yourself like an idiot. Yandere Coworker pulls you aside one day into a storage closet. He's trying so hard not to snap and fuck you stupid against some half empty shelves, so instead he settles for gripping your arms. Isn't he a gentleman? Anyways, he lays it out for you.

"You need to quit," He says simply. His voice is gruff and firm, and you blink in surprise. "What?" You stammer out. He's tall, intimidatingly so, and you tremble as he holds you. "No, no I'm not- I can't quit! This is my job! I know you don't really like me, but that's out of line," You hiss out and squirm away from him.

Yandere coworker realizes you really are very, very dumb. There's nothing in that stupid little head of yours, is there? You can't even tell how much he's looking out for you. You're crumbling under the weight of this job, and he can't stand seeing you so unhappy.

But he makes enough money for the two of you. He can handle this while you can't. In fact, the more he thinks about it, he can't figure out just what in the world you would be good at. He tries to picture you as successful at anything and comes up blank. Huh... You really are good for nothing. Except,,, you would probably do well if you didn't have to do anything at all.

Yandere coworker starts to think about how much prettier you would be if you got proper sleep. He likes the way you look in corporate attire (That is on the rare occasions where you don't look like a hot mess), but he bets you'd like to be in expensive and revealing loungewear even more. The only thing you would have to do is keep your house tidy, and keep yourself nice and presentable for whoever provided for you. Yeah, you'd be perfect for that. And guess what? He could give you that.

Yandere coworker knows that you're far too stubborn for your own good. He begins to actively sabotage your work. He inserts spelling errors into your reports, changes the numbers of any potential client before you have the chance to make a sale. He allows himself to be more officially promoted, and with the new power he has, he assigns you increasingly difficult tasks.

You try and report him for essentially bullying you, but the complaint is thrown out with little care. He's one of the best employees the company had ever seen, and you were just some bumbling broad who couldn't even spell their own name right on official documents.

Before long, you're fired. Yandere Coworker uses his position in the company and many connections he has to essentially black list you.

You can't get a decent job in your field anymore. Plus you begin to get behind on rent and bills. Your life is going to shit, yet you still refuse to take him up on his many offers. It's infuriating, and he just wants to put you in a place that he knows you'll be safe and happy in.

Yandere Coworker just thinks your too dumb to realize how kind he's being. He hopes that you're smart enough to recognize how nice the trunk of a luxury car is. After all, you're going to be there for a while until he can get you to his home where you'll never have to use that useless brain of yours again.

#yandere x reader #my writing #yandere #yandere male #tw yandere #yandere x you #stalker yandere #x reader #yandere boy #tw kidnapping #financial abuse #yandere co worker #answered asks #asks #asks open #reader insert

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the-loststone · 9 months ago

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Eloise v Penelope

I think a lot of Eloise's anger about Penelope being Lady Whistledown comes down to it being the very last person she expected. Eloise imagined Lady W being this emancipated woman, living off her own riches, poking fun at society from outside of it. That Lady W didn't have to conform to the normal expectations of women, to marry and have babies and obey their husbands. She says it herself in S1, I think it was episode 2 or 3. But for that reality to not be the case, that Lady W was in fact a member of the ton, and someone who did have to conform, and did have to marry was a real blow to this fantasy.

That, of course and the fact that it was Penelope. Of course, she has resentment that Penelope was her best friend and lied to her, and exposed her secrets, especially after Eloise was honest and truthful in their friendship. However, I think it's a bit deeper than that. The awful truth is, I don't believe Eloise thought Penelope was cleverer than her. That's not to say that Eloise believed Penelope to be dumb, but she thought they were the same. That they both held the same beliefs but that Eloise was better and a bigger advocate for those beliefs. And Eloise doesn't like having to confront the fact that Penelope actually does want what many other women are supposed to want, and that Eloise is somewhat unconventional and alone in her outspoken beliefs. And Penelope doesn't want to disappoint Eloise so she does, in many ways, hide her desires, and tries to agree with Eloise's beliefs about womanhood and feminism.

That Penelope was smart, clever, and even manipulative and jaded is not a welcome surprise for Eloise. That she didn't know her friend -- even though we know that Penelope did not hide so much as she was overlooked -- is a betrayal. Penelope has always been kind, sweet and very much a sidekick to Eloise. To learn that Penelope was her own leading lady is not welcome, especially when she was leading Eloise on a goose chase.

Something in the books really resonates here too. Colin's worry that if Penelope is discovered as Lady W, it would have her cast out of society, while if someone like Cressida were to be recognized as Lady W would have them be applauded. Because Penelope is not popular, so she cannot be clever and gain notoriety through a pen name. Cressida would be able to remain in society even if she were unmasked as Lady W because she is popular, and even though she's probably recognized as a b*tch, she's a b*tch the ton are comfortable with and the one they would applaud as being so clever to get away with it.

I think Eloise believes the same. She would rather it be Cressida, or probably more like Lady Danbury, because she expects it and because it goes with what she believed. But it cannot be the 'frumpy, unpopular, unattractive' girl like Penelope. Because that's a blow to their ego, that they were misled by someone so... unpopular, a 'loser'. That's not to say that Eloise is so unkind she's always thinking her friend is a loser. But she knows, at least subconsciously, that she is more popular (at the very least because of her station and her family, even if she doesn't recognize that her beauty is a factor as well). And while Eloise has different views on marriage and feminism that may be considered radical, she is still in many ways a product of her environment, and does not take kindly to someone she thinks as 'less' socially to hold one over on her. And I don't mean class. Eloise likely would have been pleased too if it was a maid or something because that would be so clever. But Penelope, a member of the ton, who's not even as cool or outspoken as her? Not likely.

I'm not dismissing Eloise's rightful anger at having her secrets aired out (although I do understand Penelope's dilemma and decision - better for the Bridgerton's to suffer a small scandal than to be involved in a fight with the Queen and dragged down completely). But pay attention to what Eloise says. "I do not even know you. I look at you and all I feel is pity for you. Sequestered here in this very room writing your secret little scandal sheet, tarnishing everyone in town all because you are too scared to stand up for yourself in reality. You are something Penelope, an insipid wallflower indeed."

These words are cutting to the heart of the matter. Penelope is a wallflower, Penelope is unpopular. Penelope could never have accomplished something so clever. All she did was write a little scandal sheet... although it's not little at all, is it?

Let's not forget that before Eloise got in over her head with the Queen, she was obsessed with Lady W because she admired her. Penelope changed Lady W to Eloise's preferences, because she wanted, in some way, to be clever the way Eloise likes people to be clever. Even though it is nothing to scoff at for a woman to be a popular column writer, especially in those days, even if it is for a 'scandal sheet'. But that was one way women had power back in those days, was through what they said, and the rumors that swirled. Penelope has a lot of power through her pen, because she can make and unmake a family. She got rid of Daphne's odious suitor. The women started a rumor, and Penelope wrote about it, and the next day the man had to leave town. Not because of a mere rumor -- because of a PUBLISHED rumor. And while those rumors can fade, as they do, it let Daphne be free to get courted by Simon.

Eloise still hasn't actually confronted her privilege. Theo did tell her, "hey, guess what, you're super privileged and you're putting me in a bad spot." And while she does end up understanding that in the end, breaking things off with Theo, she's still not actually understanding her privilege amongst the ton. Eloise's sister is a duchess, her brother is a viscount. A little rebellion by running around with political radicals will not destroy her. She is still very much a desired connection people would want. Something Penelope knows.

But Penelope herself, as herself, has no power. "too scared to stand up for yourself in reality." And what exactly is Penelope supposed to do? She is not the popular girl with suitors lining up for her. She's not the rich girl who's money can protect her or who's father can protect her. She's a girl with no influence herself. Every time she's tried to help someone as herself, she's been dismissed. When she warned Colin, he dismissed her. When she begged Marina, she dismissed her. When she spoke to her mother, she dismissed her. When she warned Eloise, she dismissed her. So she made herself influential through a pen name.

How can Penelope stand up for herself? She can't without someone like a Bridgerton in her corner. Eloise can insult Cressida in defense of Penelope, but Penelope can't do it herself without feeling actual consequences. But Eloise will never feel any consequence for dismissing Cressida or anyone else, barring someone above her station.

Only a great scandal can destroy Eloise... such as cavorting with a man unchaperoned... and something, again, Penelope warns her about. Of course, Penelope has ulterior motives as well. She doesn't want Eloise to discover her secret. But this is still a big risk that Eloise is taking, which is what Penelope warns her of and is dismissed. Eloise not only risks herself but her family's reputation there too. And while, again, the scandal may not last long, especially not for her brothers, it will affect Eloise as being, the dreaded term... 'spoiled goods'.

And that can feel like a double standard. I mean, Penelope is alone with Colin... then again, Penelope doesn't exactly have a reputation to protect. No one would believe her to be a seductress when they spend so much time dismissing her. And no one would consider Colin to be interested in her since, once again, she's not on their radar. Eloise's privilege is a double edged sword, though she benefits from it more than she doesn't.

It's not fair. But it is a reality. And I think it's a disservice to women of the time not to show how they are punished for standing out. Eloise is loud and brash and suffers little to no consequences for it. If that were actually the case, a girl is often sent to a mad house or married off quickly or some other way to silence her and stifle her. But Eloise has brothers who love her and will protect her. This is a privilege. The first time she feels any censure is through Lady W's pamphlet, but again, it is something that can be brushed aside with her family's protection, though it had the unfortunate timing of coinciding with a broken engagement.

I don't really think the blame is only on one party. Penelope also made a lot of mistakes. That's not to say I think that Penelope owed it to Eloise to reveal that she's Lady W, or reveal her secret to the queen to spare Eloise. Eloise started that battle despite Penelope's warnings and got in the cross hairs of the queen for it. Penelope shouldn't have to sacrifice herself. Also Penelope sharing Lady W with Eloise is taking away something that belongs to her. Eloise would, I think, seriously try to take over the narrative of Lady W if she knew. Already Penelope feels pressured to change Lady W for Eloise's admiration, so I do think that if Eloise knew who Penelope was before hand, Penelope would lose it to her completely, and it would have turned completely into Eloise's pamphlet (which honestly would have led to more problems because Eloise would forgo subtle criticism and instead loudly criticize societal norms). Eloise is overwhelming, and Penelope is a pushover, especially when it comes to her friend who she doesn't want to lose.

But there were better ways she could have gone about it. She could have warned Violet that Colin and Marina were planning on eloping and told her to push for a long engagement instead. She could have told Violet that Eloise had gotten into trouble with the Queen. I mean, I think those are her only options really. Neither would have spared her mother from being furious with her or Eloise thinking she betrayed her by telling Violet... but it would have been minimal damage in comparison. Then again, there is the big risk that it wouldn't work because, as I said, Penelope is regularly dismissed.

In the end, yes, Penelope was a bad friend. And she's not a particularly helpful or good daughter/ sister / cousin. Then again, her family hasn't been very kind to her either and Eloise has overlooked her as well. Is Eloise the biggest victim? No. That would be Marina, who, I would argue, ended in a better situation than if she had married Colin. Did Penelope have a duty to fix her mistakes and repair the reputations of people she ruined? I don't think so. It would have been nice but... people have to be able to recover on their own, and a lot of things can only really be fixed with time or a new scandal. The worst harm she did was to herself and her family. She feels the consequences of her actions too. Is Eloise a victim? Yes, but better the victim of a scandal sheet than the victim of the Queen. Does Penelope need redemption? No. I don't think so. Penelope is complex and already experiences the pain of what she does and the consequences of all her actions. She knows what she puts other people through as well.

Anyway, thank you for reading to the end of my rant. I probably contradicted myself somewhere in there but... oh well. Just my thoughts.

#bridgerton #penelope featherington #eloise bridgerton #no hate for either character #daphne bridgerton #colin bridgerton #simon hastings #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton season two #bridgerton season 3 #lady whistledown #nicola coughlan #luke newton #claudia jessie #peneloise #polin #penelope x eloise #penelope x colin #bridgerton season one

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whispereons · 1 year ago

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Oracle!Reader Part 14

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 13, Part 15

Warning as usual. There is blood and gore in this chapter!

Staring up at the Archon parading around in human form, you lick your lips and note how even those minor injuries were healed. Your body aches with phantom pain, some wounds healed too rapidly.

"I don't mind answering some questions, can I get your name first?"

A small smile plays at his lips as his hand is held out in front of you. "My name is Zhongli, I'm the Funeral Parlors consultant. It would be a pleasure to hear yours, outlander."

So he is aware of your origin, well at least partly aware. If he's not going to pull any punches then why should you? Besides if it all goes wrong, you can blame it on the bloodloss that you're still recovering from.

"I'm Y/N, and you're correct that I do not originate from this world. You must not be a normal person either, in fact you look identical to this statue. This one portrays Morax the Geo Archon, but I'm sure you know that, Rex Lapis."

Getting a good look at the statue from your proximity, it was obvious that Zhongli was Morax. You could make the excuse of it being game logic on why no one makes the connection, but that wouldn't work anymore. Maybe the statues are imbued with power that prevents anyone from this world to recognize the similarities?

"So it seems you are more knowledgeable than the traveler was when they arrived here. I should have known considering how the Electro and Geo particles surround you with zeal. Perhaps Teyvat is charmed by the features you share with the Holy One."

His step forward and angled head to look you in the eyes have you staring at glowing amber hues. The red eyeliner and outlined iris make it uncomfortably clear how intensely he's examining you.

"The curve of your lips, a stature so familiar, you resemble the creator so much. Teyvat must be bewitched and awed by an individual so alike as you. If only I could see your face in it's full visage, only then would I know for sure..."

Anyone would feel flattered or embarrassed with how seriously Zhongli studies you, but dread is the only thing you feel. You know that behind those honey-coated words is a trap just waiting for you to spring.

Too bad for him; the last thing you plan to be is predictable.

"My, my what a compliment! A devout and faithful follower like yourself is comparing me to the creator? You should pray for forgiveness to the merciful creator. I'm a servant for them, just in a different league than you. My connection with them is strong enough that Teyvat graces me with qualities alike yet inferior to the Everlasting One."

Zhongli returned to his perfect posture at your words, the flash of envy couldn't hide. "Oh?" Narrowed eyes and a lofty tone that encourages you to smile wider. "And what position could an outsider like you hold?"

"Well, as an Oracle of course! Really, just how dumb are you? An outlander that is incredibly knowledgeable of the Creator? It's painfully obvious." There's no reaction to your test insults, which is fine that wasn't the last you had in store.

"I'm from the world that the Creator is recuperating in. It's due to that, that I can speak to them much more freely than everyone here. Even Teyvat pales in comparison. That's why Teyvat is so attached to me, my aura is overwhelmed by the creators."

Honestly, you had Chongyun to thank for that one. You weren't sure how you were supposed to explain the whole Teyvat clinging to you without sounding repetitive. But if Zhongli was that easily fooled, he wouldn't be one of the victors of the Archon war.

"Then enlighten me on why the glorious creator would need an Oracle of your caliber to spread their word. Surely that's the least you can do." He's fully dropped that faux-polite tone in contrast to the technically proper speech.

"Gladly! It's become common knowledge that the elemental monsters and animals have started to act strangely. Add in the leylines that change from out of control to perfectly calm in a matter of minutes or weeks. These are all signs of the Creator's upcoming appearance! They need to be sure of who in this vast land they can properly trust."

"That still doesn't explain why you in particular were chosen. A wily and fresh child like you wouldn't do the best job." Hard like stone, Zhongli refused to even blink at your words. A god like himself would never falter after thousands of years spent perfecting his worship.

But did he really have to insult you at the same time?

"So you refuse to believe it because of my supposed inability to properly carry out any duties assigned to me? You don't even know all that I had done to arrive here! Surely you should know just how rough the waters were..."

The hand that covers your mouth does a poor job of covering the sly smile. Zhongli stares at you in silence, the wind swaying around the floating chunk of rock that you both stand on.

"Just what are you trying to imply?" His voice is as soft as a whisper but cutting like the sharpest steel.

"Why explain it when I can show it?" Silently rejoicing at such a convenient set up, you peer into your bag and grab the item you've been saving.

Shimmering brightly in the harsh glares of the sun is Beisht's scale, still in pristine condition despite your perilous journey since that day you got it from the sea-leviathan.

It feels like ages ago. Just how much time has passed since you arrived on Teyvat? How much more time will you spend in situations like this? Weeks? Months? YEARS?

The existential dread is quickly pushed away by your beaming smile at Zhongli's reaction to the singular item. The rocky exterior finally breaks at the proof of your 'abilities'. His lips part at the bright teal color and he blinks incredulously at it.

Really, how could you pass up the chance to rub it in?

"Surely a human of my caliber would be capable of this much. I mean, a perfectly intact scale from a leviathan that managed to avoid the whole Qixing that isn't dyed in blood? Child's play for a servant specifically chosen by the Creator. I never doubted the creators' choices!"

Holding the scale in front of you, you smirk at the man with as much snark as you hold in your heart. "The same can't be said for you, Mr. 'That still doesn't explain why you in particular were chosen.' Because the Creator is capable of choosing anyone they want, for whatever reason they desire."

Silence envelopes the area as you stare at him, a beat passes with no movement until a gruff chuckle leaves him.

"The more you speak, the closer I come to a conclusion." Recovering quickly, Zhongli's gloved hand rises to tap his mouth contemplatively. "You're either something far worse than I've seen in a long time, or a hope for the Creator's return."

That white outline around his iris seems to spin with the malicious joy that he refuses to show. It's like his body screams that he'll either enjoy your presence or your destruction. Nerves and anxiety grip your heart but ignoring it has always worked better for you.

"Maybe I can say the same thing about you considering your past, but I see you still aren't convinced. And how could I ever let you, one of the longest standing worshippers, have doubts about me? So tell me, were Beisht and her husband devout or sacrilegious beings?"

The answer he'll say is obvious, not only because you hold such a confident stance showing that you know the answer but because of Zhongli himself. A noble dragon that willingly bows to someone would feel ashamed at the thought of resorting to lying to boost his own pride.

Quite ironic how you hold so much trust in his answer due to the acolytes' faith in the creator. The same faith that led you to this position, and the same thing that'll keep you from ever exposing the truth of your identity. A constant force preventing them from meeting their 'beloved' creator.

"You met Beisht in the flesh, there's no doubt that she is solemn and serious in her worship. The same can be said for Osial, it was one of the few things I could agree with the leviathan. Even still, I'm the superior believer. After all, I'm the one who is left after all this time."

"Yet I met Beisht before you."

The scoff and know-it-all tone he used pricked at your nerves long enough to cause an annoyed response to slip out. Unfortunately, that seems to be what Zhongli was baiting for as he laughs, the low sound making the rock platform tremble.

"That's if you're even an Oracle. You may be from that world and even heard about Teyvat from the Creator, but for all I know, you could have been banished here for us acolytes to execute. Whether it be for avenging the Creator or entertaining them."

Damn, it was almost scary how fast he turned the situation around. But how could you falter now? Getting tongue-tied at such a crucial moment would be a pathetic way to lose your life.

"And what will you do if I truly am an Oracle? When the creator's return is delayed months, years or even decades due to your rash actions, what will you tell the creator when confronted with the consequences of your own actions?"

"Then you should work hard enough to prove to skeptics like myself. To put blind faith in whatever is dubbed the creator's is a fool's belief. Temptation and sin ravage Teyvat from the long drought of the Creator's presence."

For a split second, sorrow clouded his eyes. He's hiding something. It’s important and you can feel it in your soul. The only thing that really stains his and Venti's reputation is their war with Khaenri'ah. It must be connected to that.

But it's too early to try digging in for information on that. He doesn't even believe you to be the Oracle, how could you possibly get that out of him? What if he's under a contract and must stay silent on the matter?

Lost in his memories, Zhongli doesn't realize how your face pinches in frustration. You'll have to get his approval as the Oracle before you can even-

Oh.

Oh, why didn't you realize this before?

A grin spreads across your face as you circle in on the heart of the problem and the perfect way to fix it.

It's not that Zhongli doesn't believe you to be the creator's Oracle, he just doesn't want to believe it! He's envious: envious of why a random outlander like you got such a nice position in comparison to him who probably spent most of his life molding himself to the creators standards.

All that's left is to reel him in and you know the perfect way how.

"Prove myself? I've done plenty to prove myself, but what about you?" Mockingly, you tilt your head as your empty gaze peers into Zhongli's eyes, digging deep into him. He focuses back on the conversation at your shift in tone.

"If anyone should have to prove themselves, it should be you." This time it's you who takes the bold step forward. "Let's start at the beginning, shall we? And try to keep in that temper too so that I can finish my words. A dragon your age should know such simple things."

"As Morax you were quite powerful, though a brute to be completely honest. Still, you knew your limits well and paired up with the Lord of Dust before the Archon War, who served as the 'brain'. Tell me, just how did it feel when you found her as nothing more than a statue that day?"

Your words have a strong effect on the imposing man, his fist trembling at the mention of such a beloved god, one whose death still pains him. Paying no mind to his pain you ask the monumental question.

"Just how much resentment do you hold against the Creator for her death?"

A hand slams you against the Statue hard enough to bruise your skin. It doesn't squeeze around your throat but there's no need to as the Geo begins to petrify your legs, locking you in place. The Statue is in a constant state of healing in defense to the bruises on your neck.

"Just what are you trying to imply by saying that?" Cold and apathetic is the voice that flows from the stoic man. It's what you would imagine Morax would sound like before Guizhong taught him how to care for humans.

"C'mon, that's the second time you've asked me that. Don't make me speak the obvious-" A shuddering gasp leaves you as he tightens his grip. But it's gone just as fast; a flock of birds tackle Zhongli.

You can only watch in shock as what was only 4 to 5 birds grow to become at least 15 birds of all kinds attacking him. The throbbing of your neck being healed as the Geo instantly releases you is overshadowed by Zhongli swatting at the birds as he takes continuous steps back.

But that's all it took for Zhongli to fall off the edge as the birds flew away cawing happily. Standing and staring at the spot where Zhongli fell off in shock, you begin to chuckle. It grows to a giggle before you're laughing hysterically as you buckle to the ground. Loud peels of laughter ring around the area as you hold your stomach from the ache of laughing so much.

To think Teyvat took the initiative to help you out for once. Why couldn't it do it sooner? Was it only after gaining some power from activating a new nations statue of the seven that it could? You couldn't focus on the question anymore as the look on Zhongli's face when he fell came to mind again.

The sight of his eyes blown wide and a split second of pure panic sent you straight back into a fit of laughter. The ground far below you shakes as a Geo pillar constructs a bridge high enough to reach the stone you sat on.

The sound of footsteps make you open your eyes and giggle at the sight of a disheveled and annoyed Zhongli. Annoyed is still an improvement compared to his enraged state earlier. With giggles slipping out, you stand back up and laugh louder at his appearance in full view.

His hair was pulled out of his rattail with his earrings nowhere to be seen. Bits and pieces of the weaker cloth of his suit were missing, giving him a poor look that didn't match his flawless posture. The red marks and light cuts only added to the joy you feel at his expense.

"Are you finished laughing, Y/N?"

"For now at least. I would suggest buying a new set of clothes but I don't think you have the mora for it!" Zhongli only lets out a long-suffering sigh as you crack up again.

You would be scolding yourself for not taking the chance to escape while he was away but it was better this way. You didn't need the information about Khaenri'ah, it was nice to know but the information wouldn't help you live.

The main reason you stayed was because running away would prove Zhongli right to be suspicious about you. It would let him know that you're scared and have something to hide. Plus, that would mean having to escape Liyue the same way you did Ei, just in a worse situation.

That's not something you want to repeat.

"Alright I'm done laughing." You say while wiping off the budding tears from the corner of your eyes. Zhongli sends you a look that screams that he doesn't believe you but you shrug it off.

"Really, that question was more of a test if you will. My main job is simply to see who the Creator can trust. Your relationship with the Creator beyond that is between you and them."

The calm and peaceful tone you use is such a contrast to the one you used earlier that Zhongli is clearly apprehensive. Paying it no mind you continue to speak.

"If you truly want a reason to at least try and believe me to be the oracle even if you don't fully believe me, then I'll give you one. I'm sure you still have the stone dumbbell from Guizhong that you've never been able to open. I know how to open it."

Those last words have Zhongli staring at you intensely as you gaze off into the distance. The Dragon-Queller tree is visible through the fog with its glowing blue branches and yellow leaves.

"How?" He breathes out, scared to trust but scared to lose this opportunity too.

"It requires a naturally grown glaze lily cultivated by the Creator. That's because it requires a 'pure' glaze lily and the only one who can grow such a thing at this day and age is the Creator. All the natural glaze lilies have died after all."

Zhongli's shoulders slump at your words. It seems he started to let his guard down after he fell off. He must no longer view you as a threat or, at most, an annoyance. That's okay with you, underestimation is the most useful viewpoint they could have for you.

"Should I even make an attempt to ask you why it can only be unlocked with that? You're only telling me this as a last resort to keep you alive, correct? Even if I told you that I would keep you alive without that information, you wouldn't believe me. As childish as you may be, foolishness does not seem to be a quality you hold."

"That may be true, but if you really want an answer to that first question then I'll tell you." You look over to lock eyes with him and smile. It conceals every sneaky and vicious thought you hold. "I have no clue. The Creator instructed me to use it as a last resort, if you want that answer then try praying. Perhaps you'll get an answer."

You would like to know the answer to the stone dumbbell too. After all, you only made up the solution! Seeing as Zhongli spent all these years after Guizhong's death, failing to unlock it, it's a good bet that it'll never open.

It's silent as you both get lost in your own thoughts. Unlike before it wasn't tense, it was more comparable to the silence you would spend alone in your apartment. The nights you would only be accompanied by the thoughts of the 'what-if' situations. Thoughts that would only stay thoughts just as the past would be just that, the past.

Wanderer learned that the hard way too. You wouldn't let yourself hold so many regrets before your inevitable death. Even in Liyue you weren't truly safe, so wouldn't it be best to speak to Zhongli while you still could?

"I have questions about Khaenri'ah… Well, the better way to put it is that the Creator has questions about them. It's one of the few things that they mourn the most. A whole nation devoted to worshiping solely the creator, destroyed by the Archons that swore their life and loyalty to the creator. So will you explain it to me?"

His eyes fill with the same sorrow you saw in him earlier. It seems you were right in guessing that his line on blindly trusting things labeled with the creator was connected to Khaenri'ah.

"I have spent all my years after that day asking for forgiveness, for some way to atone. It was one of the few contracts that I did not properly balance in equivalent exchange. I regret signing it, not for myself but for my beloved God."

"So it's a no."

"It's an agreement not to speak of it."

"Then don't speak about it." Zhongli seeds you a questioning glance as you mischievously smile at him. "Just listen to my words and don't look away. I'm quite sure nodding and shaking your head doesn't count as breaking your silence."

A huff of amusement leaves him at your solution. His eyes close with his lips curling into a small smile. He nods his head in acceptance, not having the drive to poke holes into your stubbornness.

You were quite confident in the conclusions you've drawn so far. Genshin Impact was nearly the sole reason you were living back on Earth. Family and friends were nonexistent, you had given up hope on making any new connections as well. The only thing you did when you weren't home was work and your work made you be everything but yourself. So combining everything you know from the game with everything of the cult that you've learned thus far shouldn't be too hard.

"When the Archon War broke out, I'm sure most of you were merely looking to keep your people and nation alive. The original design of having the gods powered solely on their people's worship paled in comparison to Celestia's offer of power by obtaining a spot in a group of seven. At the end, you all had a choice. Accept your spot by accepting a Gnosis, or go against them similar to how the Dragon King once did."

Zhongli perks up at the mention of the Dragon King. Not many people know about the original Dragon King. Most people assume it's Azhdaha when in reality, the original was a far greater dragon.

"You all must have been quite against it. The only God you would all bow under would be the Creator who had left before those events to sleep in my world, yet Celestia probably whispered to you all that it was allowed on Teyvat because it was approved by the Creator. That the Gnosis was a reward for all your hard work and as Celestia was the first descender, all of you accepted it.”

The way he begins to stare at you is invasive, like he's just dying to jump you to get every bit of knowledge you hold on the topic. He's starting to suspect you.

"Yet when Khaenri'ah was revealed to exist years afterwards, everything was thrown into confusion. I'm sure you and the other Archons were fine with their presence as Khaenri'ah worshiped the Creator, but was Celestia?"

A sly smile creeps upon your face at the memory of when it was revealed that Khaenri'ah wasn't the first civilization to be turned into hilichurls. No one liked Celestia so you had no problem pinning almost all the blame onto it.

"I'm sure they were enraged, especially as Khaenri'ah grew more and more bold with their inventions. Gold in particular was quite dangerous seeing as she not only created life but also Durin and the Golden Wolflord. And even that was unintentional!"

You laugh cheerfully as Zhongli chuckles in surprise at your words. Had you successfully deterred him? Probably not, but he hasn't stopped you so you'll keep going till the end.

"Celestia ordered you all to aid them in destroying Khaenri'ah but you all refused. How could any of you harm a nation so devoted to the creator even if they refused to worship Celestia or the Seven? But that Gnosis you all accepted comes with a price. A price that serves as leverage and a control device."

The thoughts of what Beisht told you on how Celestia had caused them to forget the original way of worship resurfaced. Celestia was just too suspicious for that to be the only thing they had done. It would take a lot more than that to force the Archons to listen to them.

"That Gnosis was like a drug. It gave you all so much power, tasting and making you feel like you're on top of the world! Just for it to come crashing down when the unpleasant side effects hit you. It corrupted you all like poison forcing you to wage war against Khaenri'ah. My best bet is that it was like mind control. What do you say?"

He looks at you with a blank expression, as if trying to see the secrets you hid in your soul through your eyes. But there's no response from him, not even the occasional nods that he was giving before.

"Well if it was mind control, perhaps it made you believe that Khaenri'ah had plans to overrule the Creator and create their own human god. Or maybe it made them out to be traitors to the creator. Perhaps both? That doesn't really matter, what does matter is that only after the war was in full throttle were you all brought back to your senses."

You didn't have any proof of that last part, it just seemed like something Celestia would do. Not only to prove their superiority but also force the Archons to put their best effort in defeating the people of Khaenri'ah to save their nations.

"After the war ended, you all wanted to get rid of it but Celestia wouldn't allow such a thing. Even if you most likely tried to find some loophole, Celestia doesn't play nice. It would make sense if they threatened to give a punishment similar to what they had done to Khaenri'ah. So long as none of you destroy or throw it away, they'll leave you all be,”

Venti was a god, no matter what fans said, there was no way he would lose to Signora. It made more sense if that was his way of 'handing' it over to the Tsaritsa. There was also Nahida who threatened to break her Gnosis to one-up Dottore. That was always funny, you would kill to have witnessed that in person.

"Of course none of you would actually use it or even desire it in your vicinity. Everyone wins when the Tsaritsa uses her various methods to acquire the gnosis'. And thanks to the traveler appearing during that time, Celestia was probably too busy freaking out over that to pay too much attention. For a while at least."

Finally looking back to Zhongli, you smiled proudly. "I must be pretty close right? At no point did you laugh at me like you did with Alice so I'll take that as a good sign. And even if I'm wrong, everything will be solved when the Creator descends."

Stretching to loosen the tension in your back, you applaud yourself for the brilliant thinking. It's not like anyone can actually fake gold blood for long when even hair dye didn't exist yet. You're basically leaving all these loose ends to the you that would be believed to be the Creator. Which is never going to happen!

"Would the Creator scorn me for asking you once again if you're truly an oracle?"

"I'm sure the glorious creator would be fully justified in doing so, but I'll scorn you in their stead.. And don't get it twisted, it's not because of your feelings concerning Guizhong's death. It's how you, by your own negligence, offended the Creator!"

An utterly baffled expression paints his face at your accusation. Unrelenting, you point your finger at him with a serious face that you haven't shown him till now.

"Did you really believe that the creator wouldn't realize? Just how little you changed from that brute of a dragon that saw humans as plentiful yet insignificant as dust? To think that you believed yourself to be comparable to the primordial dragons."

Zhongli stiffens at the mention of the primordial dragons. After all he is the prime of the Adepti who's exuvia is a dragon, not a primordial dragon. Wouldn't it be fun if he held some sense of inferiority when compared to the primordial ones?

Zhongli sits on the ledge of the rock with his elbows on his legs and his hands covering his face. It was time. He would question just what you were talking about and you'll explain the elemental sacrificing that he forgot. That'll be the end and he'll have no choice but to support you!

Smiling knowingly you approach him and lean down to see behind the shadow casting over his eyes. Your eyes twinkle victoriously as his breath leaves a cloud from the crisp air.

"I should have known that the creator would not forgive me for failing to arrive on time."

What?

"How could I have been beaten to that shooting star by that astrologist? No matter who may have been her master, I failed to arrive on time."

Zhongli sulks there as he continues rambling to himself on 'missing' the shooting star due to his old age. Was he seriously talking about how you lost him the first time to Mona?!

Memories come back of you using the last of your wishes on his banner and being greeted with Mona instead. The first 50/50 you lost and was forced to use nearly all your primogems to get him. A fact that you never let Zhongli forget through your adventures.

Just what would he do if he knew how you always switched to a different character whenever his idle starts to play? Would he sew his lips together in repentance? That must be the difference between a true believer and a fake believer...

Holding back a sigh you begin brainstorming on how you were supposed to bring the conversation back to the sacrificing. Zhongli is too lost in his own head as he begins to continuously blame himself for any mistake he could have made.

"Being unable to answer the travelers' questions must have worsened their view on me too."

"That and how you were willing to let Liyue flood if they couldn't defeat Osial."

"Human life may be precious but they're as numerous as the dust that make up stone. I would rebuild Liyue for the rest of this long life until I cultivate a nation that I could humbly present the creator with."

"Then shouldn't the creator just grind you down and raise a different Adepti to their exact liking? You should work hard to be exactly what they desire to be truly loved."

"Are you saying that the Creator loathes me?" He finally looks away from the sea of clouds to stare at you. Sparing him a glance, you listen to him grow more panicked by your silence.

"Do they wish to see me crumble and be reabsorbed into the earth for my mistakes, for my sins? Was it the way I mechanically went through the motions of worship for the few years after Guizhong's death? Or does my benevolent god crave me and my nation to fall for aiding in the destruction of Kh-?"

Abruptly Zhongli grasps at his chest where his heart lays as he coughs. More out of politeness than concern you rub his back as fluid flies from his lips to his closed fist.

The thick inky plum colored fluid stained his fist with droplets of crimson swirling within it. His coughing fit slows to a halt as his hand slowly releases the clothing over his heart. Harsh breathing and a shallow pained groan is all that can be heard as he cleans himself up.

“Pardon me-”

“Was that a warning from Celestia or a side effect if you get too close to speaking?"

"The implication is the same no matter what it may be from." He whispers as you begin to move back to return his personal space. Yet his now ungloved hand is what wraps around your grass stained sleeve.

"Now answer my question." Determination and a barely concealed unruly emotion simmer beneath his composed surface as he asks. "As an oracle, tell me what I have to do to earn their forgiveness. What must I reap to begin repenting for the sins I sowed?"

Eyes widening at the sight of the disheveled man, you stare at him quietly. The messy hair, cut up clothing and grip tight enough to keep you still all while being careful not to bruise.

Hook, line and sinker.

"Is that a question for me to answer? Am I the god that you wronged? If you wish to communicate with the creator yourself, then there is a way. A method to begin regaining the pebbles that make up the mountain of trust you once shared with them."

You grab the arm that connects to his hand wrapped around your own and pull him up. He obeys the silent command and stands up, his gaze never faltering from your form. Silent and towering like the mountains he's created, he simply listens.

"Celestia has hidden more from you than you originally thought. But I'm sure you already know that. Offer yourself to the merciful creator and they'll surely hear your pleas of forgiveness. Whether they forgive you or not is up to them."

Releasing your hold on him, you turn to survey the area. Now where could you have him perform the sacrifice? His free hand comes to rest on your shoulder for your attention.

"What must I offer of myself? My blood? My body? If need be, I'll even be willing to offer my life. My life is worthless without them. I'm nothing more than a grain of mineral if not for them."

"There's so many things you can offer, but if you want to make the most impact, then you'll offer up your body parts. Your life may be precious but just how much longer do you have left?"

"Then will the private temple I have built for them work? We can head there immediately." He points south to the sole unnamed mountain in Minlin. You vividly remember unlocking the teleport waypoint there.

"The only way I'll know is when I see the interior. I'll meet you there Zhongli!"

Pulling yourself away from his grasp, you close your eyes and calmly imagine what the scenery around the waypoint looks like. The rocky feel of the floating stone changes to a lush green beneath your feet. Opening your eyes you're greeted with a valley of viridescent brustles with degraded stone ruins at the edges.

"To think that the Creator even allowed you access to the waypoints. They must treasure you greatly." He appears at your side in a matter of minutes. His tone has a hint of longing and bitterness.

It's sweet like the flavor of a childhood candy that you would sneak behind your parents backs. Almost sweet enough to make up for the starvation you would face later on as punishment.

"Instead of focusing on that, why don't you show me that private temple you created? As the Geo Archon, I hold high expectations for you."

"This temple is the one I created for me. If you want the glamorous shrine built for the mass and appearance then you're better off viewing the public one that the Qixing now control."

He walks down the hill until the grass is tall enough to cover his calves. You follow behind him and stare blankly at the plain that is covered with a healthy amount of tall marigolds. Just as you're about to repeat the question, the earth begins to rumble.

It starts with just one stone rising from the ground, until it multiplies into a roof like structure. You watch in awe as a temple surges out of the mountain with the slightest bits of dirt falling off it.

Stone of high quality and clearly careful upkeep shines with small cracks from the passage of time. Gold, silver, and bronze layer the nooks and crannies of the pillars that keep a roof over the doorway.

Marveling at it, you follow Zhongli into the temple... He couldn't kill you in it, right? Surely you could still teleport even if he locked you in it… Teleporting without using the map might not work due to the focus and effort it required, but doing it with the map has never failed you yet.

The inside was even more impressive; statues of all kinds surrounded the hallway. It was you, always you, just in different poses, clothing and materials. From thin robes crafted entirely from Cor Lapis, to suits made of Noctilucous Jade.

Arriving at what seemed to be the main room, you're greeted with a huge statue comparable to the public one in Inazuma's plaza. Sunlight bathed your statue from the skylight above it.

Your body was made of Cor Lapis decorated in an Archon-like robe made from Noctilucous Jade. A fresh Glaze Lily sat in your palm as Silk Flowers adorned your head in a crown like structure. You sat on a blue stone throne that seemed to grow brighter as you approached it. The sleek yet dense mineral looked like the magical crystal chunks you would give to the blacksmiths.

"Be careful to not venture too close to that one, the elemental energy may leave it to join you." Zhongli warns as he steps into the middle of the room. Smiling casually to hide your amazement, you head back to him.

"What an impressive statue, the Creator is feeling quite pleased with the display but still wishes to see your true remorse." Digging into your bag, you brought out the ceremonial knife and the handbook you took notes on.

"Go get the softest cloth and lay it on the ground. This ritual is simple, you'll cut off whatever part of your body you wish to offer, pray, and wait for a response. If 10 to 20 minutes pass with no response, then you can leave it at that or offer more in hopes of a response."

Closing the book and shoving it back into your bag you offer the knife to Zhongli. He looks up from where he laid the gilded gold fabric to stare at the knife before letting out a drawl laugh.

"That knife will do little to my scales, Y/N. A ceremonial item is to be bathed in liquid gold to be used so I have more than enough weapons that can actually cut my skin."

Scoffing, you stuff the knife back in as he leaves and returns with a variety of weapons. The largest was an ax that smelled faintly of blood. Was it used to sacrifice someone not too long ago? The thought makes you uncomfortable, yet you're no longer alarmed at the thought.

My, have you changed.

You move to stand away from the center closer to the exit. Zhongli's bare hand turns to a pattern of black and amber hues. Shedding his thick coat, his flexed muscles in draconic form are left in full view.

If you were back on Earth, you would have killed to view this. An Archon’s skin was something the majority of the players wished for, for quite a while. Even now, you would love to see his true Archon form, but the thought of actually living was far more tantalizing.

Rolling up his sleeves, he chooses a sword and examines it carefully. Without fear he raises it high and slices downwards cutting his hand off cleanly. The ruby liquid sprays onto the floor as the droplets drip off his sword and dismembered limb simultaneously.

It doesn't matter how many times you witness or smell blood, it still disgusts you. The only blood you truly cherished in shedding was the one that left that man's body when you stabbed him in that cold alleyway.

His hand lands onto the expensive textile with a wet thud as the ivory bone sticks out. Zhongli lays the sword down gently resisting the urge to groan in pain. Gritting his teeth he returned his attention and gaze back to you. You, who stayed in perfect position ahead of him, clad in gems and minerals carved by his own hand.

Closing his eyes, his lips followed the adored pass time of praying with intensity. Too lost in his regret, joy, and infatuation his words slipped out clear like the perfectly carved jewels he’s crafted for you.

"My god, my god. For I have sinned against you so. The mistakes I cannot fix or change, I pray for your forgiveness." Your unmoving, unchangeable eyes stared at him with an expression so familiar to him, one who worshiped you in this temple for centuries.

"From allowing myself to be tricked, to the lack of devotion I felt to you in Guizhong's death and finally with how I treated a servant of yours with disdain. Envious, I am envious to an extent that I shouldn't hold to my righteous god like you. Even now I still haven't broken the habit of referring to you as 'my' god."

Once again, just like the first time, Teyvat seems to overwhelm you with his feelings. You stare at his back as his lips murmur the words of devotion without an end in sight. Silently, you accept his offering, this first one was only to put the last nail in the coffin of you being an oracle.

The sky darkens as Zhongli's hand crumbles into a pile of primogems that dissolve into the air. Blue and purple stars dance across the sky as a lone gold star makes its way closer.

You didn't plan to always accept his offerings. After all you did lose a 50/50 to him and was forced to put up with his paranoid possessiveness in regards to your creator self. Shouldn't you make him lose a few times to even the score?

The gold star shines brighter and bigger as Zhongli gazes at it with a smile purer than anything he's ever felt since his creation at your hands. It flies through the window enveloping him and the whole room with a beaming light.

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

When his eyes open, the skylight shows the sunny sky but he can already feel his connection to you stronger. The brilliance you bore shines beautifully in him like a star he wished to keep hidden for only him to see.

It worked, it worked! There is no need for him to be wary or envious of you for claiming to be so close to the creator anymore. In fact, you were a sign specifically designed for someone like him. A sign that the creator had not grown complacent in simply watching Teyvat, you were now showing interest in coming back soon. And through you, he can find out details about the creator that were kept secret all these millennia.

A wide and joyful grin is bared with obsession tangling within it. He turns his head to where you stood and his smile drops abruptly when all he's greeted with is an empty spot.

He built this temple for him and the creator to enjoy in privacy due to his possessive nature born from his dragon lineage, yet the sight of Y/N who up and vanished after fulfilling their duty struck his core like the abyssal gunk that used to constantly corrupt his body.

You may have left, you may think that he wouldn't treat you, a fellow devoted servant well due to his earlier behavior. And he understands that, he truly does but that simply means he has to rectify his mistake before it's too late. You were a mere human while him, a god.

Finding you before any terrible consequences from his mistakes won't take too long.

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

Unaware of the dragon's changing tune, you eye the Dragon-Queller tree from outside the temple with interest. After all the work you've done thus far, indulging yourself with a nice close up of the magnificent landmark would be a good treat for yourself.

This one took a while and it was edited by the same jerk. I really hope all the work was worth it and that the next part can be done faster. But as my college is starting this early Sep, it might be even longer. Genshin's lore is a hot mess so I tried my best to keep it simple while touching on the important parts. All the lore I put in is almost completely accurate. If you don't include the sagau parts. If your name is italic then that means I couldn't tag you. I manually put everyone so hopefully this fixes the notifications problems. Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @sielt, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @conspicuous-mayonnaise, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zenith, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado, @pix-stuff, @esthelily, @luxie963, @emmbny, @millienolife, @kbar1013, @xxblackroses623xx, @chxrlxtteee, @aludicpoet, @yandematic, @atrcclovsxoxo, @0lshadyl0

#whisp's amateur work #genshin impact #genshin sagau #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #yandere sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau oracle au #genshin cult au #sagau cult au #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere zhongli #sagau #yandere morax #yandere rex lapis

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silentglassbreak · 4 months ago

Note

hi bestie is it too late to request? you said you liked writing angst, well, i love reading it 💔💔painfully unrequited love!!!!! gimme gimme

friends with benefits with (overly affectionate!!!!) Noah and reader who falls sick to her stomach head over heels in love with him. blurring the lines between sex and love.

going to a bad omens concert however long after and it’s like they’re strangers oOF rip my heart out and stomp on it idc. been listening to Novocaine on a loop all day. i’m not okay

feel to totally disregard if you’re not feeling it angel <33 thank you bby I love your writing 🥺🥺

Angst............. UGH I've been WAITING babes. My goal is to rip your heart out...fair fucking warning. MMMLOVEYOUUUUU. After Writing Notes: I'm the actual worst. I hope you don't hate it!

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: smut, heartbreak, lots and lots of angst

Can You Feel My Heart

Love languages are such a strange concept, aren't they? That seems to be a fairly new idea that someone came up with in the last decade or so?

If you like to buy love...your love language is gifting.

If you can't communicate well...your love language is affection.

If the only way you know how to show feelings is with sex...your love language is intimacy.

At what point are we allowed to call someone out for being a dick? At what point are we allowed to confront the fact that someone is skipping around the idea of commitment, and ask them to just admit what they really want?

This wasn't the first time these thoughts had danced around my head, in the wee hours of the morning, while Noah's arm laid heavy across my waist, him snoozing behind me.

Noah and I had been friends since we were seven years old. We met on the playground at the park in the center of the neighborhood of our small town in West Virginia. He told me he liked my butterfly hair clips, and I let him have the blue one. He wore it in his hair every day for three weeks.

He grew up in a broken home, only his Mom around most of his years, and even then - that relationship was...strained. So many nights he had snuck into my bedroom window, curling up next to me, tears free falling down his cheeks. We never talked about why, but it didn't take a psychic to figure it out.

He moved in with his Grandmother when he was fourteen, and even though he lived in the next town over, he still made it a point to take the city bus to me every day after school, even when he dropped out.

We were never more than twin flames, incapable of existing without each other, moral support for the other during any type of hardship. Looking back, I guess that was what built our serious dependence issues.

"I can't live without you, Y/N. I'll die if I ever lose you."

"No you won't Noah, don't be stupid."

He was stupid. As stupid as they come, because when I turned eighteen, and started college, he had paid one of his friends to drive him all the way up to Columbus to see me. He showed up at the door of my dorm, drunk and broken, blathering on about how only having been away from me for a week had killed him, and he needed to see me.

That was the first night he kissed me, and I let him.

As most people do when having grown up with someone so closely, I had developed an attachment to Noah very early on. I first recognized it when he turned twelve, and started skateboarding. He would insist on trying to teach me how, despite my undeniable clumsiness. His hands would grip my hips, his face so close to my ear, and his chest pressed to my back. He would talk in this deep voice, his puberty hitting early. I was awe-struck.

He was my best friend, sure. But he belonged to me, that's what he always said.

Even when he had girlfriends, I always came first. Dates would get cancelled for me; plans changed. Hell, he even blew off one girl whose birthday fell on the same day as mine. I was his priority. I was his person.

So when he leaned in to me, sitting on the edge of my mattress in the dorm, liquor stained-breath against my face, I just closed my eyes and let it happen.

He spent the night with me, and had to leave early. Vowing to come back, he never broke his word.

There he was the following weekend, sober this time, with snacks, DVDs, and a week’s worth of clothes. I managed to hide him in my room for four days before the dorm advisor caught him.

The second day he was there was the first time we had sex. I was a virgin, and he was not. That hurt me, sure. Not enough to deny him what was rightfully his. I belonged to Noah, body and soul. He took his time, walked me through it, and gave me the best possible experience I could expect. It hurt, and it was weird, but a sense of relief washed over me.

We had finally crossed that threshold. We had sex three times that week, until he was forced to leave.

That's when the words left his mouth.

"We need to talk."

That conversation broke something inside of me. He loved me, but he didn't love me. He was honored to have been allowed to give me something so meaningful, but he could never see me as more than his best friend. Our friendship was too important, and he wouldn't even allow himself to entertain the idea of jeopardizing that. He had made up his mind, and he couldn't have feelings for me.

It was with the heaviest heart imaginable, I sucked back my tears, painted an easy smile on my face, and held his hands in mine.

"I totally understand, Noah. No worries! We can just have fun, you know?"

And that was it. We were stuck in this sick, frozen place for the last two years. I was about to finish my Associates in Columbus, and hoped to become pre-med at Boston U, but Noah didn't know that yet. I could never figure out how to tell him.

Noah Davis was this heavy, bright flame that I was desperately afraid to extinguish. He had formed a band right after our arrangement began, and he was twenty-four hours away from leaving on their first major tour that would take him around the entire country, and then across the Atlantic to Europe.

How could I tell him that while he was gone, I was likely moving even further, and starting my life without him?

I didn't want to live without him, but he was leaving, and I couldn't sit and wait forever...

I breathed out a sigh, the light beginning to stream in the window of my one-bedroom apartment. He needed to wake up, drive home, and make sure he was ready to leave tomorrow. It was only 6AM, so I knew he'd be cranky, but I couldn't put this off any longer.

“Noah?” I breathed out his name. He groaned in response. “You’ve got to get up. You have to get ready to head home.”

"Mm, ten more minutes." I rolled my eyes, and began sliding out from underneath him.

His arm locked, and held me in place. I giggled, and saw as he turned his face, one eye cracking open. "Don't get up. It's too early."

I narrowed my eyes. "I have class at 8AM."

Noah used his strength against me, pulling my body to him and holding me tight so I couldn't get up. This only made me laugh louder.

"You don't need to get up for another hour."

"Not if I want to shower."

He sighed into the pillow. "So crazy, cause I don't think you do."

I rolled my eyes. "Dude, you've got to get home. Nick will kill us both if you're not ready in time."

"I'm not scared of her." He smirked, and I smacked his arm.

"Shut up. And get off me!"

He stuck his bottom lip out, pouting heavily.

"Not going to work. C'mon." I wriggled hard enough to break his grip, and sat up, stretching my arms over my head. He sat up as well, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

I pulled a robe over myself, turning to look at him as he scrolled through his phone, checking messages.

"Coffee?" I asked, and he threw a thumbs up at me.

I left the room, headed for the kitchen, trying to keep my breathing even. I had very little time left.

Filling the pot with water, I felt his arms wrap around me from behind, his face burying in my neck.

"I don't want to go. I'm going to miss you so much."

I leaned into the touch, taking anything I could at this point. "I know. I'll miss you more."

He scoffed. "Not a chance."

Holding me for a few more moments, he let go to head to the fridge, pulling out the bagels and cream cheese, and plopping down at the dining table. I continued my work of preparing our coffee.

"Hey, uh," I started, keeping my voice as calm as I could. "there's something I wanted to chat with you about."

I turned around, two hot mugs in my hand. He was spreading the cream on a bagel, already having prepared one for me. I sat next to him at the table.

"What's up?" He didn't look up at me.

"I told you I had been trying to decide where to start medical school?" He just nodded in response. "Well, I find out today if I got into Boston."

He halted, his eyes snapping up to me. "Boston?"

I took a sip of coffee. "They've got the best med program on the East coast-"

He cut me off. "Since when were you looking on the East coast?"

His tone was darkening. This was going to go about as well as I expected.

"Since I realized I had a chance. Noah, my GPA and scholar program gives me a real shot."

He grit his teeth, setting his bagel down. "Boston is far, Y/N."

I kept calm, setting my mug down as well. "I know."

"So, why would you want to be so far away?"

"Well, you're going far too, Noah. Your first show is in San Diego."

He sat back in his chair. "Yeah, but the last one puts me right back here in Columbus for a month before I go overseas."

I nodded. "I know. I'll still be here, then. You get back six weeks before the end of the semester."

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You can't go to Boston."

There was a finality to his tone, and something about it made my insides flinch with irritation.

"Oh no? And if I do?"

"You can't."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Can't? And since when do you tell me what I can and can't do?"

He rolled his eyes, standing from the table and walking over to the trash, binning the half of his bagel he didn't eat. "We can't be that far away from each other."

Lifting my eyebrows, I stood as well, crossing my arms. "And why is that, Noah?"

He leaned back against the counter. "Y/N, you know why."

"What? So you have someone to fuck whenever you want? Whenever one of your little groupies isn't around?"

His eyes popped open, then. "What?"

"You heard me." My tone was deadly, matching my stare at him.

"You really think the only reason I want you close is because of the sex?" He seemed truly stunned.

"Well, why else would you want me around?" I threw my hands up, walking back down the hallway toward my bedroom. I could hear his footfall behind me. I just continued, stepping into the closet to get dressed.

"What is that supposed to mean? I always want you around."

Rolling my eyes, I clasped my bra on and popped my head out to look at him. "Noah, I'm convenient for you. Unless you have any other valid reasons to keep coming over, I don't know why else it matters."

His jaw dropped open. "That is not true."

Pulling my shirt on, I scoffed. "Please, dude. Spare me the act, okay?"

"What act?"

I pulled my jeans on, buttoning them before stepping out to face him again. "The 'you're my person, and I can't lose you' act." I quoted myself. Something about that pissed him off, because he crossed his own arms and stared me down.

"The fuck are you getting at, Y/N?"

I shook my head, brushing past him, and walked toward the bathroom.

"Noah," I turned to look directly at him. "we've been at this for years. It's kind of old, don't you think?"

His face softened slightly. "We had an agreement."

I nodded. "You're right, we did. Just sex, for the sake of our friendship. That's what you wanted."

"I thought that's what we wanted."

Waving a hand between us, I took a step toward him. "Oh no, Noah. That's what you wanted. Not me."

He was silent, then.

"I wanted more. I always have. I thought that had become clear over the years, but I fucking guess not." I could hear my voice raising a few octaves. "You didn't give me a choice. You came in, broke that boundary, and then put it right back up again. And I stayed, just so I wouldn't lose you."

I could feel the tears beginning to well in my eyes.

His voice came out small, then, his hands now buried in his pockets.

"What do you want from me, Y/N?"

I sighed, letting one tear escape. "I want you to love me."

He pulled his hands out, stepping toward me and taking one of mine. I let him.

"I do love you!"

I stared at him, my teeth ground together. "Do you? The way I love you?"

Noah was a lot of things. He was brilliant, funny, generous, dedicated. He had the most redeeming qualities of anyone I knew.

And sure, he could be stupid. But not that stupid.

He had known how I felt about him. Of course he did. That was why I kissed him every chance I got. Why I always let him in. Why I never dated anyone else. Why I stayed all this time.

But here? In this moment? He was the biggest idiot I knew, because he dropped my hand, his eyes falling with it, and took a step backward.

"I..." He huffed out a breath, looking back up at my tear-stained face. "I can't. I'm sorry."

I averted my eyes, then. I could feel myself breaking, crumbling right before him.

"You need to leave, Noah."

I could feel he wanted to pull back to me, like a moon in orbit of a planet. Gravity. But he didn't. He just stepped back toward the doorway.

"What does this mean?" I heard his voice, but wouldn't meet his eyes.

I sniffed hard, trying like hell to keep myself upright.

"It means you go on tour. Be who you are, Noah. And I'll be who I am. Without each other."

His body shifted, but I was stone, unmoving.

"I can't lose you." I heard him let out a light, sarcastic laugh. "I'll die."

I let myself laugh at that.

"No you won't, Noah. Don't be stupid."

7 Years Later

Residency is going to kill me. I may actually die in pursuit of this God awful career I've chosen. I was three years in to a five year program, intending to finish in General Practice, but until that time, I was just an idiotic twenty-seven year-old with no life, no sleep, and no clean fucking clothes to wear.

Every resident gets exactly forty-eight hours of paid time off every three months, and I had not taken mine in over a year. I finally had taken all of my hours - six days total - off of work, and after spending the entire first day sleeping, I was due to meet with Raylene in an hour.

Ray and I met at the beginning of residency, and quickly gotten close. We managed to find an affordable apartment together within walking distance of the hospital, and spent any rare free time we had together. She was currently at her boyfriend's place, spending some much needed time with him, before we went out for the evening.

I was digging through my unfolded laundry, trying to find something not too wrinkled or stained to wear tonight. Ray had told me we were going to a concert for a band she had recently discovered, but she didn't tell me who it was. I didn't care, to be honest. Existing somewhere other than the Emergency Room or my own bed sounded heavenly.

Finally settling on a deep red cropped t-shirt, black skinny jeans, and the Vans I rarely got to wear, I straightened my hair and applied what little makeup I could. I set out of the building to the waiting vehicle downstairs, Ray practically hanging from the passenger window.

"You look so fine!"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Sure. Like I might've slept in the last two weeks?"

She chortled back at me, leaning in her seat once I was in the car. I waved hello to her boyfriend Sean, and gazed at Ray.

"So, Tyler isn't coming."

She frowned at me. "Why not?"

I shrugged. "Said he had a case he was working on, and he really couldn't spare the time."

She rolled her eyes. "Typical lawyer. Too busy for anyone but his clients."

Tyler and I had been dating for about six months now. Maintaining a relationship while having jobs as busy as ours was difficult, but he somehow managed to work it out. He would pop in when he knew I had breaks to bring me food, or have me spend nights off at his place, massaging my neck and helping me get caught up on my favorite series. He was an honest man. A good man.

I liked him.

Right?

It's so hard to tell what's like and what's convenient when you live your life exhausted and overworked, so I didn't have a lot of time to question it.

"Bummer for him. I'm so excited to see this show!" Ray was beaming in the front seat.

"Yeah, who are we seeing, anyway?"

"A band called ERRA. They're opening for a bigger headliner, who I've heard are pretty good too."

I nodded. "I've never heard them."

"It's rock. Metal, really." Sean chimed in, and I acknowledged him silently, looking out of the window.

My mind zoned out while we drove to the House of Blues. Ray and Sean chatted idly up front, but I was just enjoying the fact that I was finally out of the house for once.

That is, until we walked into the venue. The banner poster stared at me, the photographs of the band mocking me...

Bad Omens...they were the headliner.

Memories flooded back to my brain, my insides clenching at the visions.

I hadn't spoken to him since that day...that last day in my apartment. When he left, and never looked back. I didn't even keep in touch with the rest of the guys, for fear that I would be sucked back into the maelstrom that was Noah Davis...

“Y/N?” I turned to see Ray stood behind me, noticing my reaction. “You okay?”

My mind wasn’t comprehending what I was seeing. There’s no way that was them? The last time I had heard of the band, they were one-of-four supporting bands on much larger headliners. Now, they were selling out tickets at their own tour? Seven years was a long time…but how had they gotten this popular?

I wondered this, as if I didn’t know how wildly talented those boys were. Aside from Noah, Nicky, Jolly, and Nick Folio were some of the most intelligent and creative minds I had known. They all brought something special to that band, but I would have never expected this.

Huh. Guess he could live without me after all?

Something bitter crept into the back of my throat, but I swallowed it down, staring at his photograph on the poster.

“Yeah,” I tore my eyes away for a second to look at Raylene. “sorry, I’m fine. Just didn’t realize Bad Omens was the headliner.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve heard of them?”

I pulled my lips to the side. Did I want to tell her?

“Long time ago.”

I couldn’t get past how different he looked in the picture. Last time I saw Noah, his hair was halfway down his back, he was skinny, and he had the thinnest little mustache growing on his upper lip.

In these promo pictures, however, his hair was short, not even reaching his ears, he looked much more muscular, and he had no facial hair. He also had many more tattoos than I remembered. That wasn’t surprising. Noah was a tattoo addict from a very young age.

Jolly had let his hair grow and had the cutest goatee on his chin. Nicky looked almost exactly the same. And Nick, bless his heart, had grown into such a handsome guy. They all looked so grown, so serious and broody. It almost made me giggle, knowing how goofy these guys were in real life.

Noah looked the most stunningly different from the rest. Not only did his entire appearance change, but his eyes…something in them was just so much darker. That harsh flame I had once known was so dim. It almost hurt to see. Almost.

We were making our way out to the pit of the GA floor. I had decided to get myself a cocktail to take the edge off. I didn't plan to come face-to-face with him, and likely wouldn't even get the opportunity to get a good look at him period, but still...just knowing we were in the same room made my throat tighten. I washed it down with Vodka and cranberry juice, hoping the warmth of the liquor would unfreeze my nerves.

The first band, Invent Animate, was entertaining enough. Very interactive with the crowd and high-energy. I found it pleasant, but couldn't get myself to focus long enough to notice what they were singing about. I struggled to breathe, the set ending, and knowing I was one hour closer to seeing his face.

During the intermission, Ray excused herself to the restroom, and I stood with Sean, feeling dizzier as the moments passed.

"Hey, I think I'm going to step out for a second. Get some air."

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "You okay? Want me to come with?"

I shook my head. "Nah, don't want you to miss the band you guys came to see. I'll be back."

He nodded, patting me on the shoulder before I weaved in and out of the crowd. I discarded my plastic cup in a trash can before exiting out into the main lobby. I found a spot on the wall near the doors that was unoccupied, and leaned against it, letting my eyes close and my breathing even out.

When I opened my eyes, I searched the room, looking for nothing specific. I landed on the merch tables, and saw someone oddly familiar talking to the lead singer of the last band we had watched...

The liquid courage is what carried me in that direction, smiling to myself.

He stood with his hair pulled back, as usual, and was talking with his hands. Same as he always did.

"Nicky Ruffilo..." I said loud enough to hopefully catch his attention, my hands now grasping the edge of the table.

His head snapped over to look at me, his brows knit together curiously. I could tell he was putting it together.

"No fucking way..." His voice sounded the same as it always had. "Y/N?!"

My teeth flashed at him, and he circled the table to approach me, his arms pulling me into a tight hug.

"Jesus Christ, I didn't recognize you!" That was fair.

Since the last time I had seen any of the guys, I had bleached my hair a pale blonde, lost twenty-five pounds, and had grown two cup sizes. I was, for all intents and purposes, an entirely different person.

"Yeah, well I absolutely recognized you." I said as I gripped his shirt, squeezing him tight.

"How long has it been?" He asked, pulling back to look at me.

"Uh," I thought for a moment. "seven-ish years?"

Nick's eyes were in disbelief, an amazed leer on his face. "God damn, girl. I can't believe it."

I pointed to the banner above his head. "Headlining now, huh? That's amazing!"

He smiled, proudly. "Yeah, we've worked really hard. A lot's changed."

My eyes fell on Noah's face on the poster. "I can see that."

I could tell he was pondering, a question hanging on the edge of his tongue. It was the most obvious question, so I answered for him.

"He doesn't know I'm here."

He nodded, leaning an arm on the table comfortably. "Ah, okay. You didn't want him to?"

I snorted. "I didn't even know I'd be here. My friends came to see ERRA, and that's when I realized you guys were here."

"Makes sense." He had crossed his arms. "Do you want him to know?"

Contemplating this, I let my face fall to get away from his gaze. I wasn't certain how to answer that, but it seemed like the answer was clear regardless.

"No." I sighed hard. "It's probably for the best that he doesn't, right?"

I couldn't read Nick's face, if he was disappointed or relieved. He seemed to be pretty satisfied with my answer, but I could tell he had more he wished he could say.

"Fair enough." Was all he gave me, before letting out a breath. "So, you still live up here?"

I let my muscles relax for a second. "Yeah, doing a residency at Brigham right now."

"Residency? Does that mean you're a doctor?" He asked, clearly confused.

I cackled at this. "Yeah, full blown doctor. Got the little 'MD' after my name and everything."

He beamed at me. "That's so great! Congratulations!"

"Thank you, Nicky." It fell quiet between us once again, and I could hear ERRA's set beginning. "Well, I should probably-"

He spoke over me. "Yeah! Those guys put on a great show. Don't miss it!"

I gave him another hug, reveling in how warm he still felt.

Turning to walk away, I stopped, needing one last thing...

"Nick?"

His face turned back to me.

"How is he?"

I could see the sadness fall over his tan features, and I instantly regretted asking.

"He's..." He trailed off, taking in a large breath. "He's different, Y/N. I doubt you'd recognize him."

"How so?"

Something about my question almost seemed to annoy him. Odd?

"Like I said, a lot has changed. He's changed. He had to." He gestured to me. "Same way you did."

I accepted this, not wanting to press any further. "Thanks, Nick."

He pointed a finger at me. "Hey, we're going to be back here in the fall for a couple days. Don't be a stranger, okay?" I grinned at this. "I know Jolly and Folio would kill to see you."

I just nodded, turning and walking away. My eyes met with Ray's, who was standing, watching my interaction. How much had she seen? Did she hear anything?

"Hey, what are you doing? You're missing ERRA!"

Her brows were pulled up suspiciously. "Who was that?" She pointed after Nick, who had now disappeared from the merch table.

I shook my head. "Oh, that guy? He's the bassist in the headliner band."

This wasn't good enough for her, I could tell by the way she pursed her lips. "Uh-huh. And...you just decided to chat him up like old friends?"

I groaned. "Ugh, how long were you standing there?"

She put all her weight on one hip. "Long enough to see you two talking like you've known each other before. Care to explain?"

Raylene was so nosey. She came by it honestly, her father being a police detective. But still, why did this matter?

"It's not a big deal, Ray. I'll tell you later."

I pulled on her arm, trying to lead her back to the concert hall, but she stood firm, eyeing me. I sucked my teeth in frustration.

"Damn it, alright, come here."

She followed me to the doors leading outside, and we stepped into the cool air.

"Alright, look, I've known Nick since I was ten."

Her eyes jumped. "Oh? Back in West Virginia?"

I nodded. "Exactly. I had no idea their band was going to be here."

"Do you know anyone else in the band?"

I glanced around, feeling wildly uncomfortable by the conversation.

"I may know the entire band."

Her eyes exploded, nearly shooting out of her face cartoonistically.

"What?! The whole band?" I just nodded. "Jesus, Y/N. That's insane!"

I giggled. "I guess. It's just a coincidence."

She smiled at me. "Well that's awesome! Do you want to see the rest of them after? They're doing a free merch signing."

Panic filled my chest, and I put a hand out to grab her shoulder. "No, no. I don't, uh..." I tried to keep my voice solid. "I don't keep in touch with them anymore."

Her eyes narrowed. "Oh? Okay, if you're sure." Something in my voice must have made her feel my anxiety.

We turned, ready to make our way back inside.

"It is too bad. The lead singer's a real looker. I heard one of the girls in the crowd say his name was Noah Sebastian? He's pretty cute."

I almost walked straight into the door, my foot banging off of the pillar. Ray turned around to see me, and something about the look on my face made realization flash over her.

"Oh my God, are you ok-" She stopped dead, eyes widening again. "Wait..."

"Ray, don't." I knew what she had figured out.

"Noah..." I put my hands up, glancing around to ensure no one was looking at us. "As in...Noah? Your old best friend?!"

I shushed her harshly. "Please, Ray. I don't want to think about this."

"That's the guy?! Noah Sebastian is the guy that broke your heart?!"

I was going to actually vomit at that.

"Fuck! Can we not?!" I raised my voice, which made her snap her mouth closed. "Besides, I don't know a Noah Sebastian."

She looked confused. "Is that not his real name?"

I rolled my eyes, turning to walk back in. "It's his middle name."

I spaced out most of what was left of ERRA's set, just trying to put the pieces back together in my brain. This night had not turned into what I had hoped.

I just wanted one night, an easy night, to take a deep breath away from my hectic life. Instead, I was reliving some of my most painful memories, and had a headache to go right along with it from the alcohol. My chest vibrated, the bass just making it so much more difficult to focus.

I stood off of the GA floor, near the bar area, not even realizing the band had finished, and people were swarming to grab drinks and use the restrooms before the men of the evening appeared. Ray approached me, another Vodka cran in her hand, and pushed it into mine.

"Here my love, drink this." I took a long gulp of it. "Do you want us to go? We don't have to stay..."

My eyes were fixed on the stage, where I could see people setting up the equipment. "No." I huffed out a breath, and squeezed my cup. "No, I want to see them play, I think."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're sure? This can't be easy for you."

My eyes burned into her face, which almost made her flinch. "I may never get to see him again, Ray. I have to."

She just nodded, arm linking with mine. "You want to watch from up here?"

I nodded, crunching on a piece of ice from my drink. "No chance of him spotting me back here."

She affirmed my request, and leaned back against the wall with me.

I felt my phone vibrate, and I pulled it from my pocket to see Tyler's name on the screen.

Tyler: Hey beautiful! How's the show?

I held my breath. What kind of a question was that?

Me: Fine. Almost over, just one band left.

He didn't take but a minute to respond.

Tyler: Having fun?

Ha, what a joke.

Me: Yeah. I've had some drinks, so it's helping.

Tyler: Well, enjoy it baby! You deserve it.

That wasn't fair. None of it was. Having to see Noah? The fact that I had an amazing guy, who genuinely liked me, who waited for me. But I still couldn't get my mind off of that irritatingly beautiful face about to take the stage.

The lights went down, and I felt myself tense, throwing back the rest of my drink. My teeth were numb, if that made any sense at all. Ray's hand gripped mine tight, holding me up.

A cinematic scene played on the screens, but I wasn't watching, eyes hastily searching the stage.

A tall man, who I instantly recognized as Jolly, stepped center-stage, a guitar in his hand playing the opening riff to the song. It was heavy, deep and soul shaking.

Folio came out next, his face, like Jolly's, covered in a black ski mask.

Nick took his spot, playing his bass tones.

And then, as the opening crescendoed, a voice rang through the speakers.

A voice I'd never forget.

"Can you hear me through the white noise?"

He blasted onto the stage, glory and all, face covered and thick black jacket on his shoulders.

He sounded different. Angry. Raw, Aggressive. The feeling that sank in my stomach pulled me back further against the wall.

The song played through, his words pulsing through my veins.

As quick as it had started, it was over, and we were on to the next.

The next track was calmer, red lights glowing all throughout the stage.

They had all removed their masks, and I saw his face for the first time. He looked so much older, making it difficult for me to believe he was the same person.

The words of the song resonated deep in my thoughts.

"I don't want to know all your secrets, cause I'll tell. It's hard enough being alone with myself. I don't know how long I'll be holding on..."

Breathing deeply, I watched as the crowd moved with the music, electrifying the energy in the room. It was intoxicating.

Noah had changed...

The set played on without hitch, the entire time I caught myself holding in breaths until I felt my lungs nearly bursting. I couldn't take my eyes off of him, feeling the familiar ache beginning to creep back in.

The music stopped, and a bunch of lights came up. By this time, Noah had discarded his jacket, button-up, and only stood in a black tank top, hands wrapped in what looked like boxing wraps?

"Alright, Boston, how we feeling?" His speaking voice even sounded different...

The crowd erupted.

"We are Bad Omens, and we sincerely appreciate you all being here tonight. The next song we are going to play for you all has been the biggest turning point this band has ever seen." I heard the screams, and did my best to tune them out so I could hear his words. "Is anyone familiar with a song called Just Pretend?"

The room rocked with the cheers and chants of the crowd.

"That volume that I just heard? That's the volume I want to hear you sing this with me, okay? Don't worry about trying to hit the perfect note or get all of the words right. It's about us all, being here together tonight."

The music played softly behind him when his lips reached the microphone.

"I can wait for you at the bottom. I can stay away if you want me to. I can wait for years if I gotta. Heaven knows I ain't getting over you..."

My heart twisted in my chest.

"I'm not afraid, of the war you've come to wage against my sins. I'm not okay, but I can try my best to just pretend. So will you wait me out? Or will you drown me out?"

The tears pooled in my eyes. No fucking way. The song played on, mocking me with the lyrics.

"I know the pain that you hide behind the smile on your face. And not a day goes by where I don't think I feel the same."

"We'll try again, when we're not so different. We will make amends, till then I'll just pretend."

My hands came up to cover my face, my lip trembling hard.

"Weigh down on me. Stay till morning. Way down. Would you say I'm worthy?"

I choked on a sob, my legs pushing me forward, and I ran out of the room. I felt my stomach lurching, my mouth clamping closed as I ran toward the bathroom.

I heard Ray chasing behind me. "Y/N! Wait!"

Flying into the bathroom and finding the first open stall, I fell to my knees, emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet. My hands gripped my hair, tears falling hard down my face.

"Oh God, babe." Ray reached to grab my hair from me as I wretched all of the Vodka out of my stomach, my heart and soul pouring out with it.

When I finished, I let my chest heave with sobs, my hand covering my eyes in ebarrassment.

"Fuck, Ray." I said as I wiped my face with the tissue she handed me. "I've got to get the hell out of here."

She nodded. "Okay, my love. Let's do that."

After a solid twenty minutes of cleaning myself up in the bathroom, we stepped out, noticing the crowd now formed outside, waiting at the table for the band to come out for the signing. Ray was frantically dialing Sean, trying to find him among the sea of people. I just plopped myself down on the floor near the restroom, trying to relax as best as I could.

"Y/N?" I looked up at her. "I have to go find Sean. He isn't answering. Can you wait here for me?"

I just nodded, defeated. She was gone, lost within the abyss of people, and I sat, waiting, head in my hands.

I was pulled out of my stupor by the sound of cheering. The band had come out, all waving and smiling. I didn't even bother chancing a glance at him, for fear I may vomit again.

Ray had not come back yet, despite the four or five texts I had now sent her. I had been waiting for a solid thirty minutes, people watching the line and avoiding seeing his face. The ropes of the line were blocking my view of the faces sitting at the table.

After another fifteen, Ray finally bounded up to me, out of breath, Sean in tow.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry! That crowd is vicious!"

I stood slowly, the room only slightly spinning. I swallowed the dry, disgusting feeling in my throat, and began moving toward the exits that were now mostly clear.

"Let's go." She nodded at me, and took my arm. We had to wait behind several people trying to all get through the same revolving door. My skin felt spiky and cold.

"Hang on! Wait!"

A voice behind me made ice run through my veins, and I closed my eyes, begging whatever God existed to spare me in this moment.

A hand gripped my shoulder, and I tensed, turning my face, and my eyes looked straight at him.

He had spotted me, running from his table to catch me. He had to have been pretty damn sure it was me to chase after me like that. Fans began to crowd us, camera phones coming out, pictures snapping.

The look on his face was much less certain than I expected, as if he possibly made a mistake.

"I'm sorry..." His voice was unsteady. "Do I," He cleared his throat, eyes bouncing back and forth between my own. "know you?"

My eyebrows shot up. He really didn't recognize me?

He thought he did, but now...

"No. I don't think so." I spit out my words, teeth grinding together. It felt exactly the same as the last time I had seen him.

He dropped his hand, eyes still transfixed on mine. "I swore..."

I just turned my body, pressing my way past the gathered crowd, not giving him the chance to think it through.

In the car, I stared out the back window, arms wrapped around myself.

"What did he say, honey?" Ray's voice was so gentle.

"He didn't recognize me. He thought he did, but once he got up close, I guess I look too different." My words were only a peg above a whisper.

"You going to be okay? I don't have to stay at Sean's."

I just wiped the stray tear off of my cheek. "It's fine. I'd rather be alone."

A long, scalding shower, two handfuls of shredded cheese, and a solid half-hour crying session later, I was laid catatonically on my bed, eyes staring at the screen as Grey's Anatomy flashed across my screen.

I had blanked my mind out, forcing myself to let the thoughts go for the night. I was too tired and broken to let my heart hurt like this again. It took a solid year to get over Noah enough that I was able to function again. My first year of med school was disappointing, and I didn't make any friends until I made it into the second year. It took me nearly three to start dating.

I couldn't do that again.

I had been ignoring the texts going off on my phone, assuming it was Ray just checking on me for the thousandth time. I did, however, decide to take a look when I heard my ringtone going off.

Who would be calling me at 2AM?

I didn't even bother checking the screen before I put the phone up to my ear, my voice hoarse from crying.

"Hello?"

"What are the odds that you haven't changed your number after all this time?"

I sat bolt upright, my voice catching in my throat. The voice on the other end sounded nearly as wrecked as mine.

"Noah?" It barely came out.

"It's been a long time."

I cleared the newly formed phlegm out of my throat. "It has."

"I knew that was you." It sounded deadly quiet in the background of his end of the line. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming tonight?"

I sighed. "Nick told you?"

"He might've."

I groaned. "Well, I asked him not to."

"Why?"

I scoffed. "What do you mean, why?" I rubbed my eyes. "We're not exactly speaking anymore, Noah."

He hummed. "That's true."

I chewed on my lip, not having any kind of clue of what to say.

"What did you think?"

"Of the show?"

"Mhm."

I sighed. "It was good. Different than what I would have expected."

A soft laugh came through the line. "How so?"

I smiled at that. "It's just a lot different than what I expected your music to sound like."

"In a bad way?"

"No. Not at all."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." His voice was so serious. So monotone. Nothing at all like what I remembered.

The line fell silent again, and I found this irritating. What was he playing at?

"Why did you call, Noah?"

I heard a breath on the other end, and some rustling. "I don't know."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have."

"Maybe. I wanted to hear your voice."

My stomach tightened. "Now you have. I should go."

"Wait..." I held the phone firm, waiting. "I want to see you."

My heart pounded. "What?"

"I need to see you." His words were so matter-of-fact.

"I don't think so, Noah. That's not a great idea."

"It's not, but I'm asking..." He sounded so small. "Can I please see you?"

I perused the idea. "When?"

"Now?"

I scrunched up my face, sitting up again. "Now? It's after two in the morning."

"I don't care. I'll come to wherever you are."

This struck me. Maybe he hadn't changed?

"I, uh," I struggled to speak. "Noah, I don't know. I'm at home, it's late. I should be sleeping."

"Y/N?" I stopped, listening. "Please?"

I am a weak woman, and that is just plain fact. I was frantically running throughout the apartment, attempting to tidy any kind of mess I could get my hands on. Ray and I hadn't taken the time to really clean in months, so it was stressing me out. My pajama pants were hanging low on my hips, and I swam in my large sweatshirt.

My hair was falling loose around my face, and I was sure my eyes were puffy from the crying I had done. How insane was I? Had I completely lost it?

It was almost 3AM when a knock came at my apartment door, and I froze in place. What was I doing? Why was I allowing this to happen? I didn't need to do this to myself.

I was fine, living in my normal, tired bubble. I was headed towards a successful career that would take me further than I ever imagined. Why was I allowing this trainwreck of a friendship back into my life? What was I thinking?!

I wasn't. That was the answer to that question.

I opened the door, not sure what to expect on the other side. He stood, still as tall as I remembered, looming in the doorway. He wore a black hoodie, hands tucked neatly in the pocket. Dark blue jeans and black Converse. A white beanie covering his hair.

Like this, he looked almost recognizable. Except for his eyes...

Just like in the photograph I had seen earlier, his eyes were so dark. There was very little life behind them. Deep blue circles hung under the rims, making a pull in my chest show itself.

I just stood, blocking the doorway, hand white-knuckling the frame.

"Hi." Was all he managed. He was staring at me, eyes moving up and down my face as if he was seeing an apparition.

"Hi." I echoed, trying to not feel out of place under his stare.

"I'm glad you agreed to see me." He didn't move an inch, his jaw ticking closed with his last work.

I just nodded, letting out all of my air. "Yeah, well, you were insistent."

He nodded, finally looking away from me and down at the ground.

"I had to."

I pursed my lips, narrowing my eyes. "Did you?" He raised a brow at me. "Did you just have to see me? Because I think we probably would've been alright without it."

I could see his face fall, hurt by what I said, but I didn't care. He never did.

"I'm sorry. I know it's selfish."

"Mm," I pinched my lips together, and opened my door wider. "come in."

I stalked back into the house, not daring to look back at him. I heard the door shut behind me, and I steadied myself, expecting to turn around and see him vanished.

To my chagrin, he was still there.

Deciding not to stagnate, I walked into the kitchen, pulling a bottle of tea from the fridge, and walking back out to the living area. He hadn't moved, and was still staring at me.

"So." I motioned to him. "What can I do for you?"

Noah was so statuesque, as if carved right out of stone. "I don't really know."

My face lifted, a smirk on my lips. "You don't know? Noah," I placed a hand on my hip. "you show up here at 3AM, and you have no idea why?"

He shrugged, eyes begging me for mercy. "I'm sorry. I don't."

"Can you stop apologizing and just tell me why you're here?!" My patience snapped, startling even me.

This took him back, but instead of tucking tail and backing away, he stood straighter, face hardening.

"I can't tell you why I'm here if I don't know, alright?" His words were stern.

"Well you must have some kind of reason? Because this feels wildly unnecessary."

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "It is? So you didn't want to see me?"

I set my tea on the coffee table and stood nonchalantly. "Not really."

He narrowed his eyes. "I don't buy it." He took a step toward me, but I stood firm. "If you didn't you wouldn't have stayed, tonight. You would've left after you saw the band your friends went to see."

He was closer now, and it felt like a string had tethered between us, the tension slowly slacking.

"Yeah, well, I wanted to see your set. See how the band was doing."

He snickered at me. "Oh, sure. Of course." His hands finally appeared from his pockets, one running over his chin. "Which song was your favorite?"

Oop. I wasn't expecting that.

"The second one. Villain, or something?"

He nodded. "Like A Villain." Noah's eyes weren't buying it. "Which one did you like least?"

I scoffed. "I don't know, Noah? The first one?"

"Mm, and which one was that?"

I was swallowing the lump in my throat. I couldn't remember, the night blurring together.

"Uh, I don't know the name."

He took a step back, triumphant. "You weren't there for the set. You wanted to see me."

Rolling my eyes, I crossed my arms. "Still as self-absorbed as ever, I see?"

"Am I wrong?"

He had me backed into a corner, and he fucking knew it.

I threw my arms up. "Fine! Maybe I did. But you wanted to see me too."

He sneered at me, venom on his lips. "Obviously, or else I wouldn't be here."

"You still haven't said why."

"Why did you want to see me?"

My voice was raising, frustration growing. "I don't know!"

"I don't know either!" He yelled back at me, and my mouth snapped closed. Noah never raised his voice at me. Not ever.

He took three long strides over to me until he was only stood a foot away.

"I didn't expect to ever see you again, Y/N! I thought you were gone forever! So imagine my surprise when I see you walking out of the House of Blues, and you deny even knowing me!"

I felt like shrinking into a ball right there on the floor, ceasing to exist.

"I wanted to see you because how could I not?! Seven fucking years, Y/N!" He backed down for a second, his breathing becoming ragged. "I've been waiting seven years."

I furrowed my brow. "Waiting?"

"For you to reach out. To tell me you missed me. To give me some kind of indication we could reconcile and be us again."

There was a fire, deep down in my gut, that I had never been able to truly extinguish. A fire Noah had lit years ago. A mine shaft burning like the depths of hell in my belly that I had buried under concrete and therapy, keeping it at bay.

In my apartment, tonight, that fire broke loose. And there was no stopping it.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" I took a step forward, pressing into his space, index finger jabbing into his chest. "I was supposed to reach out?!"

He took a step back, eyes now full of fear.

"I professed my love to you, Noah! I told you I wanted you, and you fucking left!"

He puffed at me, pointing a finger back at me. "You told me to leave!'

"Yes! Because you told me you didn't love me! You told me you couldn't love me the way I loved you!"

He squeezed his lids shut tight, growling and turning away from me, taking several steps away. His hands came up, gripping the beanie on his head.

"God damn it Y/N!" He turned to look at me, a fiery rage matching my own behind his eyes. "Of course I fucking loved you!"

My heart stopped, completely motionless.

"What?"

"I've always loved you! From the moment I laid fucking eyes on you! I've never loved anyone, no one, the way I loved you!" He charged me, backing me toward the couch. "But I couldn't love you, Y/N! I wasn't good enough. I was a piss-poor high school dropout musician trying to make a name for himself, and, until recently, failing miserably."

I couldn't speak, thoughts racing so fast, I struggled to keep up.

"And you?" He pointed a finger back into my chest. "You were smart, and motivated, and you were going to make something of yourself. I couldn't drag you down with me. I couldn't force you to follow this journey with me. It would've ruined your life!"

My lungs weren't working right, and my hands were shaking. He wasn't actually saying this. I was hallucinating.

"So I left. I left to give you a chance at a real life. Which, evidently, you've managed to build without me." He took a step back, then, dropping his hands. "And I, somehow, without you."

This hurt me, hearing he had managed to become so successful, despite my involvement.

"Noah, I had no idea-"

"No," He cut me off. "you didn't."

I hadn't even caught the tears falling from my eyes, blurring my vision until he was just a watery mess in front of me.

"You didn't need me." I choked out, and he looked directly at me, inquisitively. "You've made it so far. You're a rockstar now, Noah."

He scoffed. "Y/N, you don't get it." He looked away from me, focused on the wall behind me. "I died without you. Something inside of me was lost the day I left, and I never got it back."

"Well, you're successful now, so it can't be so bad, right?"

He snorted, shaking his head. "Success always comes with a price."

My lips were wet with the tears I couldn't hold in, and I couldn't keep my breathing even. I knew he saw it, but hesitated to engage, wanting to keep a wide berth between us. I couldn't take it. It was too much.

Hearing he loved me. Hearing I had been wrong all this time. Hearing that the heartbreak I felt for so long wasn't his fault. He was protecting me, even after all these years.

"Noah?" He chanced a glance at me, and I saw his own eyes sparkling with moisture.

I couldn't take it.

I rushed him, grabbing hold of his shoulder and clinging on, desperate to find relief against him. My lips smashed into his, tearing apart the barrier I had worked so hard to build.

His hands grabbed me, holding me into place against him, his lips melted into mine, returning the kiss fervently. We were hopeless. We were hungry.

My tears didn't stop flowing, emotion pouring out of every pore. My fingers clawed at him, needing to get closer. My hand grabbed the beanie, and pulled it off of his head, his dark hair falling over his eyes. I gripped it at the scalp, trying to pull myself closer.

Feeling what I was attempting to do, his hands lifted me by the back of my legs, so I could wrap them around his midsection. I refused to disconnect the kiss, breathing in his soul. It was so real and so familiar. How I missed it like hell.

His legs carried us to the couch, where he sat us down. My legs straddled him, and I finally pulled away to tug at the sweatshirt he wore. He made quick work of pulling it up over his head while I did the same with my own. Reconnecting our lips, my hands wandered over his neck and chest, scratching at the fabric of his shirt.

His teeth caught my bottom lip, and I moaned into his mouth. His fingers pulled at the waistband of my pajama pants, and I lifted myself enough to slip them off, replacing myself on his lap. His jeans were already getting tighter as his hands smoothed up and down my thighs.

"Fucking hell." He looked down, staring at my bare breasts in front of him. "These got bigger, huh?"

I laughed, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, well, things change."

His fingers gripped around my left breast, lips falling to circle around the hardened nipple. I let my head fall back, relishing in the warm feeling spreading throughout my body.

"Still so fucking beautiful, just like I remember." I pulled at the hair on the back of his neck. "Did you miss me, baby girl?"

I ground my hips down against him in response. His hand began playing with the button of his jeans, and I moved it away to open them myself.

I stood up to pull his jeans down to his knees, his boxers bulging in the crotch.

"Oh, fuck." I sighed out. "Yeah, I missed you."

His smile then was devious, some of that regular spark shining back in his eyes. "Then show me, huh?"

Reaching into the opening of his underwear, I pulled his cock free, taking a moment to remember just how large it was. It had been a very long time since I had seen anything quite that impressive. Dipping my head down, I licked a long stripe up the shaft, lingering on the head to gather the precome leaking out.

"Holy shit." His head fell back on the couch, his eyes rolling back with it. "Mm, do that again, please?"

I smirked, looking up at him. "Only since you asked so nicely."

My tongue repeated the movement, drawing out a hard groan out of him, his legs twitching. "Fuck yeah, baby."

Without warning, I wrapped my lips around him and swallowed him as far down as my throat would allow, gagging on the tip as it struck my tonsils. His hips jolted upward, effectively fucking my throat.

"Please, Y/N, I won't last that way." He begged, his words only coming out as breaths. "I need to feel you, please."

He was begging, and I couldn't resist it. I needed him too.

I stood back up, and kneeled on either side of him, carefully lining him up with my entrance. When I sunk down, that delicious burn pierced through me, and my body collapsed onto him at the intensity of it.

"Noah, oh my God." He ran a hand up my back, allowing me a moment to adjust.

"I know, baby. I know." He soothed me, rubbing small circles into my skin.

My hips stuttered forward, needing to feel the friction. His hand reached down to grab my ass, and lifted me upward. Without warning, his hips snapped forward and fucked into me, making a sharp scream leave my lips.

My face rested on his chest, whimpers falling from my throat with each hard thrust.

"Fuck, you missed me, pretty girl?" He was panting between his words, his rhythm picking up speed. "Missed the way I fuck you?"

My eyes were rolling back, the tears from before now replaced with tears of raw pleasure.

"I'll bet you've never been fucked like this, huh?" His words were just tones of desire playing in my ears, his cock absolutely destroying me. "No one can fuck you like I can, baby. No one."

My nails dug hard into his shirt, begging for release.

"Let me know when you come, baby. Not finishing until you do."

Luckily for him, I was riding the edge so hard it was making the room spin. Biting my lip to keep from screaming, I lifted myself to look at his face.

"Noah," I searched his eyes, his hips not faltering. "I love you."

He grit his teeth, trying to focus on me and his hips at the same time. "I love you, too. So fucking much."

My face fell back down, landing on the side of his neck. "I'm going to come. Please, Noah, I'm so close..."

He, somehow, managed to pump into me harder, sending my body over the cliff and into the warm waves of my orgasm. My body went slack against him as my walls pulsed around his length.

I heard him curse, and his hips stilled. I felt him spasming inside me, and silently thanked myself for my IUD.

We laid that way, sweaty and heaving, for a solid ten minutes before either of us could find the strength to move. I slipped him out of me, and sat up to look at him. He looked absolutely wrecked, in the best possible way.

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread over me.

"Hi." Was all I could manage.

He chuckled tiredly. "Hi."

After our excursion, Noah and I had taken a few minutes to clean up, and, being as exhausted as you'd expect, decided to lay together for a while.

He told me he had to leave within a few hours to get back to his hotel, heading to the next city bright and early, so I told him I'd stay up until he had to leave.

However, in my bed, his arms wrapped tightly around me, his voice whispering sweet words in my ears, I struggled to remain conscious.

"Do you remember when I bought you that Oasis album for your fourteenth birthday? That was basically me professing my love to you."

"I was such an idiot. I should've just told you."

"You have no idea how much I've missed you. I don't think you'll ever understand."

"I'm so sorry. I wish things were different..."

And that's how I woke up, light in my bedroom far too bright, and my bed empty.

I don't know what I expected? For him to stay? Fuck off his tour to make up for lost time with me?

But still, my chest stung when I saw he had left, but I wasn't surprised.

Something had changed last night, and the darkness that lingered in the depths of my being had lifted, leaving me with a sense of hope I hadn't felt before.

When I had woken for the day, clearing the cobwebs from my eyes, I contemplated my next move. He had surely left town already, but that didn't mean I couldn't keep in touch, right?

Pulling out my phone, I found his contact, and opened a text thread.

Me: Hey, call me when you can. I think we have a lot to talk about. :)

I set my phone down on the bathroom counter, preparing to brush my teeth when my phone dinged, and the notification told me the text had failed.

Odd?

I resent it, getting the same response.

Why would my messages fail? I paid my bill, right?

Quickly dialing Ray's number, I held the phone to my ear and heard the ringing, so I knew my service was fine. Giving her a quick apology for waking her, I hung up, and went back to my texts.

His number was the same, right?

I went back to my call logs, seeing it was his number that called me last night, so it was the same as it had always been.

So...what the hell?

My finger hovered over the number for a moment, and I weighed the options before finally resolving to just call him. Make sure I wasn't losing my mind.

I held the phone to my face as I started brushing my teeth, waiting for the call to connect.

"The number you have reached is not in service. If you feel you have reached this message in error, please hang up and try your call again."

#bad omens #noah sebastian #fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #bad omens cult

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