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reflections-in-a-critical-eye · 2 years

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been following you recently and completely agree with you regarding the fandom as well as shippers. I don’t know if you’re willing to talk about this but there is major hypocrisy out there also with all those shippers out all being women, straight for the most part, who go at length to deny fantasying about their fav ship. seriously, I’m a straight female who got really intrigued by a pair in BTS and yes let’s be honest for the vast majority of us there’s some sort of fantasy behind it. it’s not a shame, women are allowed to have fantasies about men imo, but over coating it as just being supporters… meh, sorry, don’t believe it. Been lurking on this app for over a year and seeing all those women discussing issues regarding gay men like they re the ultimate source of truth and if you don’t agree with them you re just homophobic or whatever, idk it’s just feel weird to me. On one hand it’s really cool cause they do share some good stuff about lgbt issues that maybe some readers wouldn’t know about, but on the other hand I’ve read some stuff that is really out of touch with reality imo -from what I’ve discussed with my boyfriend who bi and our gay friends, I’m clearly not a source of great knowledge either. But I just find it interesting that for them Tumblr is perceived as an app for women shipping gays and they never ever go on here.. all of those ships are always seen through a woman perspective. idk, in the end I just got bored with those accounts that post super long analysis of whatever their ship has done and how this prove this and that, I just wanna see cute gifs and pics and funny stuff about jikook cause I’m weak for the and that’s it. Sorry don’t know if that even makes sense my mind is all over the place

Alright, this is quite a sensitive topic, but we can totally talk about it here. I don't fully agree, but I understand your arguments. I'll try to explain how I see this situation and see where it leads us. But I also appreciate the ask, especially because most of the ''supporters'' as you said, wouldn't be willing to have an open honest conversation about it.

First things first, let's talk about the gender and sexual identity of the shippers/supporters. It is true that most of them are women, just because the vast majority of fans in this fandom are women, but of different ages and sexualities. I won't deny that there are a lot of them who also identify as straight because they state that when they try to work on their arguments or it comes out when they use their personal experience to explain why a ship might be real. At the same time, I will once again go back to one of my old arguments which is that, unless there are statistics, we don't know for sure the distribution of sexual identities in the shipping fandom. Bottom line is, despite the landscape looking very heterosexual, maybe it's not when you add the numbers.

As to them being mostly women talking about a possible relationship between two Korean men, this is how I see things. Matters of sexual attraction, feelings of affection between a couple, gestures and looks, are all things that for the most part, can be universally acknowledged, despite having a case that involves a different culture, or a same sex couple that is different of those who try to make sense of it. They're not aliens. People who grew up having opposite lives due to their culture, geography, age, gender, can fall in love and understand clues regarding signs of attraction regardless of where they come from. That's why women all over the world can look at two Korean men and speculate that they might be together. Because of the identifiable signs. But, and this is important, we can't just ignore a few important aspects, tied to culture, gender/sexuality. A woman's experience in a relationship, regardless of her sexuality, cannot possibly be the same as that of the experience of, let's say, two gay men. Not because love or attraction wouldn't look the same, but the difference is in small things, in the culture they live in (not just the culture of the country in which they live, but the different cultures that emerge and influence people who live in a community tied to their sexual identity). What I'm trying to say is, I personally can't judge any shipper who is a woman, regardless of her sexuality, of being able to believe that they see signs of a romantic relationship. But a romantic relationship is also gendered and socially constructed and this another aspect that we have to keep in mind. I think it's important for every shipper to have these things in mind if they are dedicating their time speculating. That usual line of ''I can't be sure because they never explicitly said so'', shouldn't be their sole argument because it's not as important as they think it is. The main argument should be ''I'm a woman and my views and experience can't 100% be the same as those of a supposed Korean gay couple''. And that's it.

And now, finally to the fantasy part. I believe it's an element of the shipping practice and experience that becomes this taboo thing because admitting that they also have that would invalidate their identity as supporters, as a lot of them believe that only shippers are likely to fantasize and it automatically has a negative connotation to it. Of course there are a lot of them who are in this shipping business for pure fantasy which in my opinion, gets problematic once it reaches outside of shipping circles. It's like with jikookers and taekookers. Jikookers say that taekookers are in it just for the fantasy. Which in and of itself, is not inherently bad because there is a big dose of fantasy in every single ship, but they are also a group of shippers who have no limits and who aren't capable of making a distinction between fantasy and reality. By claiming that taekookers are like that, that automatically puts jikookers in a better position, at least in their eyes. But by denouncing what taekookers and other shippers do, they completely get rid of the elements of fantasy. In this process, fantasy becomes something shameful, it becomes synonymous with fetishization, another word that is misused a lot of the times.

Fantasy is not a bad thing. Fantasy is part of our imagination, of having this place inside our head in which we explore thoughts and desires that may as well not translate to our day to day life. Fantasy gets translated into fanfiction, fanart. We may fantasize about things that we wouldn't dare do or say in our lives, including or especially when it's about sexual fantasy. It's not a complete reflection of our values and morals or how we would treat people. Fantasy turns into fetishization when we aren't able to make a clear distinction and we treat people in real life only through that fantasy lens, and not as real individuals. That's when it becomes a problem. So yes, shipping has a big dose of fantasy and suporters can fantasize as well. When they write long essays in which they analyze the relationship between a supposed couple, they also fantasize. They do that when they read or write fanfiction. It doesn't have to be always harmful. As long as they are not ignorant and they don't treat the actual people in the ship or people in their own lives, as merely characters in a fantasy, then it's fine.

After all, it's about the respect we have for people in general and we don't dehumanize them in the process of fantasizing about them.

#bmt asks #bts shipping discourse #shipping and fantasy #bts shippers #jikookers #taekookers

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whatdoyouwanttobecalled-1 · 3 years

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I've been seeing a lot of posts about this all over social media, and while the majority of them are fine and just people expressing their opinions, a lot of people from both sides of the argument have been saying some really inexcusable stuff (such as telling people on the opposing side to off themselves, etc) and it's really pissing me off. Pls everyone idc if you agree w me or not but at least try to be mature and respectful when engaging in these conversations bc the goal is learning, understanding, tolerance, and cooperation (working together to find solutions to problems that will benefit all of us). So here's my stance on the issue, and feel free to reply, ask questions, or dm me and start a conversation regardless of your veiws. Just be nice! Here's my opinions, based off my own personal experience:

To start off: pansexuality is not inherently biphobic and/or transphobic

Yes, there are pansexuals who are biphobic, and yes they harm the transgender community in that sense. This is because generally pansexuals who are biphobic say they bisexuals are transphobic and essentially invalidate binary trans people's identity as a man or woman by saying that bisexuals are only attracted to cis men and cis women, not trans people. However, the majority of pansexual people do not think this way. Personally (and most of the pansexuals as talked to agree w me), I do not believe that bisexuality is transphobic. Why? Trans women are women, and trans men are men. If you will not date a trans person simply bc they are trans, then you're transphobic, but that has absolutely nothing to do w your sexuality. My own and most people's understanding of bisexuality (and the definition you get if you Google it, and the definition that most bisexuals will give you), is that bisexuality means attraction to 2 or more genders (which yes, could mean all), with a preference. With. A. Preference. I identified as bi to myself for years, and came out as bi for almost a year, never feeling as if the label fully fit me or that I was fully understood by the community bc there is always sm emphasis on the fact that bisexuals have a preference, while I never have. I don't think anyone is less than anyone else for having a preference, or better than anyone else for not having a preference. Pansexuality simply allows me to be apart of a smaller more specific community that fully understands my experience w attraction. I also know that bisexuality can be used as an umbrella term for anyone attracted to 2+ genders, but in the same way that it's not biphobic for lesbians to prefer to date other lesbians bc of their shared experience, I like having a smaller community that specifically experiences attraction in the same way that I do. I've also seen a lot of people talking about how people seem to think that bisexuals only care about sex, and that pansexuals think theyre better bc they're uwu innocent babies. I'm not entirely sure I'm not on the ace spectrum somewhere but lemme tell you that does not make me any less of a whore. No one is better than anyone else for how much or little they think about or enjoy sex.

2nd; bisexuality is not inherently transphobic.

Yes, there are bisexuals who are transphobic, but this is not the majority of the community. Most bi people consider trans women to be real women (which they are) and trans men to be real men (which they are). I will say it again; if you won't date someone just bc they're trans, you are transphobic, but that has nothing to do w your sexuality. As for non binary people, yes, bisexuality includes them too. Bisexuality is not inherently transphobic.

3rd; all mspec labels are fucking valid.

Whether you identify as bisexual, pansexual, omnisexual, or polysexual, you are valid. You can use bisexuality as an umbrella term if that's what you're most comfortable w, or if the definition perfectly describes your relationship w attraction then that's cool too. If you feel that pansexuality, omnisexuality, or polysexuality better describes you and you enjoy having a smaller more specific community to fully relate to, guess what, that's also cool. No one is better than anyone else, and while there are members of every community who feel that they are, they do not represent everyone.

4th; panphobia/omniphobia/polyphobia only comes from the mspec community, if it comes from outside, it's probably biphobia

Let me explain; there is no problem that comes from people who are not attracted to multiple genders that everyone on this spectrum doesn't face. Bisexuality is a spectrum that we all fall on, an umbrella term that we all fit under. This means that unless it's coming from a person or group on this spectrum, it's probably biphobia you're facing. There are 2 types of biphobia: the biphobia that comes from mspecs, and the biphobia that comes from people who aren't on the spectrum of bisexuality. The biphobia that comes from inside is only against people who identify as bisexual, and the biphobia that comes from outside is against anyone who is attracted to multiple genders. I'm not saying there aren't a few instances of people who arent mspec targeting a specific group and not every mspec identity, but most of the time, if it's from the outside, it's classified as biphobia, bc that includes all of us.

In conclusion, this is what the mspec sexualities are and some of my final thoughts;

Bisexuality = attraction to 2+ genders with or without a preference. It can be used as an umbrella term by the whole mspec community, or as a specific label on it's own. It includes trans and non binary people, and is not a transphobic label. There are transphobic bisexuals, but the fact that they are transphobic and the fact that they are bisexual are not related in any way. They are not more or less than any other mspec identity, or sexuality in general.

Pansexuality = attraction to all genders without a preference. It is not biphobic and/or transphobic. There are biphobic and/or transphobic pansexuals but the fact that they are biphobic and/or transphobic is not related to their pansexuality. Many people who identify as bisexual describe their attraction in the same way as pansexuals. This is 100% valid as bisexuality can be used as an umbrella term and the label you identify w is all about your comfort. They are not more or less than any other mspec identity or sexuality in general.

Omnisexuality = attraction to all genders w a preference. It is not biphobic and/or transphobic. There are biphobic and/or transphobic omnisexuals but the fact that they are biphobic and/or transphobic is not related to their omnisexuality. Many people who identify as bisexual describe their attraction in the same way as omnisexuals. This is 100% valid as bisexuality can be used as an umbrella term and the label you identify w is all about your comfort. They are not more or less than any other mspec identity or sexuality in general.

Polysexuality = attraction to more than 2, but not all genders. It is not biphobic and/or transphobic. There are biphobic and/or transphobic polysexuals but the fact that they are biphobic and/or transphobic is not related to their polysexuality. Many people who identify as bisexual describe their attraction in the same way as polysexuals. This is 100% valid as bisexuality can be used as an umbrella term and the label you identify w is all about your comfort. They are not more or less than any other mspec identity or sexuality in general.

Honestly, I think we all get enough hate from inside and outside the lgbtqia+ community and we need to stick together and have each others backs. It's not the microlabels that are causing problems, it's the exclusionists. Invalidating eo's experiences and saying that biphobia is a bigger problem, panphobia is a bigger problem, omniphobia is a bigger problem, or polyphobia is a bigger problem, isn't gonna help anyone or solve anything. We can have slightly different experiences and still relate and support eo. Also, even if you have a problem w a specific label, pls just ask your questions genuinely, and try to understand the opposing side. Just have a mature conversation. If you're too young or immature to do that then you probably shouldn't be on social media. Calling eo names and telling eo to off ourselves isn't helping anything and there is no excuse for it. I've always loved the lgbtqia+ community for it's love and acceptance, but the more active I become within the community itself, the more I realise how toxic it can be. Sometimes I'm genuinely embarrassed to part of this community. Especially when it's grown adults acting like children that is causing the problems. Pls do better. Thank you for your time, thank you for reading, I love you, have a nice day!!!

Also I just want to add that ik there are more mspec identities than this, and you're all so valid. These are just the sexualities that ik enough about to give a proper statement on and the ones I've seen mentioned in this discourse the most. I'm actively trying to learn more about the mspec identities I mentioned, and those that I didn't. Pls feel free to give me any info on any sexuality (doesn't even have to be mspec I just want to learn more so I can be good ally for everyone), or ask me any questions about my own sexuality, and pls let me know if there is anything I should add or any misinformation in this post (I will not be including blatant blankphobia against any mspec identity so don't even try it bitches)

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mrsbrekkers · 3 years

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could you do a jesper x reader where the reader is more on the emotionless side and is always lowkey angry at the world and jesper is always happy/flirty?? I love that type of trope sm!!!

first request yEEEEE. i got this during work and practically jumped up and down 1; because i love jesper. 2; i actually didn’t think people who request. 3; because it gave me something to do when i got home lol

i hope this is up to what you were looking for! i didn’t quite have an idea for backstory in terms of your request, so i left that up to interpretation. plus, i haven’t written jesper before +++ this is the first one-shot i’ve written IN AGES

pairings; jesper x reader / kaz x inej + nina x matthias ( mentioned )

reader is non-gender specific because jesper is a bi-con and i want this to be seen as either female, male, non-binary pals, whatever one identifies with!

warnings; like one or two swearwords? guns, the usual soc stuff? and not edited in terms of grammar, etc.

word count; 2026 ( p proud mom here )

one shot under cut!

BOATS WERE MADE TO CREATE LAUGHS

The world was cruel.

Anyone who’d lived long enough in the barrel knew that, and still, somehow, Jesper Fahey managed to be as happy as he was. Whether it be after he’d lost all of his money gambling, or during a job gone wrong? Jesper Fahey never seemed all too affected by the barrel and the shit it’d throw at The Crows. Maybe it was because he was good at hiding his affliction. Maybe he’d become used to it, and simply decided to have a better onlook when it came to such affliction. Whatever it was?

The same couldn’t be said for Y/N.

Becoming used to the affliction wasn’t in the cards for them, but hiding it was. Keeping a stoic face, always observant. There was rarely a smile on their face. Inej had coined the stoic look as ‘The Brekker Stare’. Kaz had started it, but slowly Y/N grew to use it as well. It was easy to be emotionless. It made one more equipped to face danger and problems that arose. Or, that’s what Y/N’s excuse was when they were teased about using ‘The Brekker Stare’.

Missions were always the hardest to keep that stoic look on. Especially when paired with Jesper. It wasn’t that Y/N hated the boy, quite the opposite actually. They admired his ability to stay so joyful in a place such as the barrel. Sometimes they wished it was as easy as Jesper made it seem. Maybe that’s why they’d rather be paired with Nina, but that spot was reserved for Matthias - courtesy of Kaz Brekker and his secret want for them to work out their relationship. Inej was a good choice for a partner, but she worked either alone, or with Kaz. Rarely with anyone outside of those choices. Wylan made a good partner too, but Kaz and his reasons.

That left Jesper and Y/N.

The mission seemed simple enough - sneak into The Emerald Palace to gather information on what Rollin’s next move was. Eavesdropping seemed easy enough for The Crows. Inej was doing what she did best: moved quietly. Wylan posed as a new waiter, his hair tailored by Nina to appear brunette. Nina and Matthais acted as a drunk couple at the gambling table a few away from Jesper and Y/N.

“This is going to go horribly wrong,” Y/N spoke as they’d gone over the plan numerous times in their head. One, how would the Dime Lions not notice who they were? Nina was a good enough tailor, but she wasn’t a phenomenal one. Certainly not Genya Safin phenomenal. She was a heartrender after all. Two, they may not even receive the information they’d need. Three, if they were caught, that information would be useless.

“Oh come on Y/N, don’t be so down about the world. It hasn’t killed us yet,” Jesper responded. To which, Y/N simply gave a glare. Surely it hadn’t killed them, but it’d killed enough people for them to be mad at it.

“It won’t go horribly wrong as long as the two of you don’t bicker like children,” Kaz said with a wave of his cane between the two.

Gambling, a wonderful way to gather information. Whatever Kaz’s reasons for this mission was, Y/N wasn’t going to question it. They’d rather do their job, get their cut, and then return to the Slat. It was easier that way, but Jesper decided it wasn’t easier that way tonight.

“I’m raising, what do you think darling?” Jesper asked, his eyes glancing up at Y/N, who sat on his leg.

“Raising with a hand like that?” Y/N asked out loud, raising an eyebrow. “You’re asking to be stung, dear.” They were bluffing, but doing a beautiful job so. Jesper had a royal flush - which in terms of luck tonight, was the best he’d had.

“Oh come on darling, it’s a wonderful hand. Money grabber at that!” Jesper said, his lips pouting out. Y/N would never understand how men could fall for such an act, but it seemed they didn’t have brains.

The men around them smirked, amused. They seemed to think they’d won, and with everyone raising and placing their hands down, Jesper chuckled. It was easy to play drunk men, and with Wylan continuously supplying them with alcohol, even easier to gain information.

“Boss is going to kill me,” one of the men murmured, making Y/N’s eyes shoot over in their direction. Their attention seemed taken then, eyes narrowing. Glancing down at Jesper, they nodded in the direction of the man.

“And why would that be?” One of the drunk men across the table asked. It seemed the men would do the work for Jesper and Y/N.

Easier for us, Y/N thought. Indeed it was. Words spilled from the men’s mouths, and before they’d known it, they learned of a job Rollins planned to have lined up. It was going well, until one of the men decided to become handsy with Y/N.

“A pretty one you’ve got here,” he spoke, causing Y/N to scowl. Pretty is not what you’ll be thinking when I break your nose. “Mind if I have a go at them?” The man added his hands finding their place on Y/N’s waist. Before Jesper could step in, Y/N’s leg lifted, the man doubling over at the pain that seared through his groin.

“Touch me again, I dare you.” The commotion had caused men a part of the Dime Lions to step forward from around the room. Realizing they’d been compromised, Y/N glanced over at Wylan, nodding and then grabbing Jesper’s arm. “Close your eyes,” They said before a flash bomb went off, the room ringing as the two exited the back door, Kaz waiting mere feet away from it.

“Remember what I mentioned about not bickering like children?!” Kaz asked, rolling his eyes. Maybe if you didn’t pair us together, Brekker, we wouldn’t bicker. But Y/N knew better than to say that outloud to their boss. It was asking to be punished in some out of the box, Kaz Brekker way.

“The men got all handsy with Y/N! I must say that was rather attractive back there! Showing them who’s a badass!” Jesper yelled across the commotion as they began to run down the alleys of the barrel, leaving Kaz behind with Inej who’d jumped down as silent as the night. How she did that, Jesper and Y/N would contemplate together.

“This is not the time Jesper!” Y/N yelled, rolling their eyes.

“Oh come on, no flirting with me?!”

“Jesper, we’re being chased by Dime Lions wanting to murder us, no I’m not going to flirt with you right now!” Then Y/N slipped down one of the alleyways, pulling Jesper’s arm. Coming to the edge of the canal Kaz had prepped with a boat in case this happened, Y/N jumped down into the boat with Jesper.

“Go,” Y/N said to Rotty who had been waiting. Then down the canal they were going. Out of breath and going down the canal, the trio rest in silence for a few moments.

“For a mission gone wrong, I’d say that was pretty successful,” Jesper said, showing the money he’d managed to grab from the table before the two of them had to run.

“Money? That’s what you call successful? It’ll be gone by tomorrow night at the Crow Club, we both know that,” Y/N said, huffing as they became situated on the boat. It was small, but it made do for the three on the boat. Their face held the usual stoic look, but just the smallest bit of anger broke through.

“The Brekker Stare is happening again, but is that . . . is that anger I see?” Jesper teased his face falling into the same look Y/N currently held.

“Jesper, this isn’t funny. We almost just died. Kaz is going to kill us. Are none of the consequences we’re going to experience angering you?” Y/N asked, their stoic face falling into semi panic. They were so going to experience the wrath of Kaz Brekker when they were safe and back at the Slat. Or the Crow Club. Whichever one they were found at first.

“All the information we just gathered? Is worth nothing because Rollins knows we were there. What was the one thing we were all supposed to manage?” Y/N wasn’t sure who they were mad at more. The man at the Emerald Palace was one of the people they were mad at, but also Jesper for always somehow, even after almost dying, being so flirty and happy. They’d never understand it.

“Getting out silently,” Jesper huffed. He knew Y/N was right, but he couldn’t help himself. Having a crush on your mission partner never made things easy. “But come on, you got to see me looking this dashing tonight,” he reminded, winking.

“I’m really beginning to think you don’t care for your life,” Y/N said with a small shake of their head, just the smallest laugh leaving their lips. Guns and all, Jesper still seemed oblivious to the fact that they’d just been shot at and found out by Pekka Rollins.

“Was that a laugh?” Jesper said with wide eyes, smirking.

Dammit. “No, no it wasn’t,” Y/N said, composing them-self.

“Oh yes it was, and it was angelic. You should laugh more. Do less of The Brekker Stare and more of The Y/N Angelic Laugh,” Jesper deemed, smiling like an idiot.

Then they couldn’t hold it in, and Y/N let the laugh completely consume them. “The Y/N Angelic Laugh? You’ve already coined it?”

“Indeed I did, and I will be taking full credit for this one. Inej took The Brekker Stare from me. This one is coined by me, Jesper Fahey, from this day, until the last.” Jesper had spent years trying to make Y/N laugh, and he’d almost deemed it impossible - but he always had his ways, and they finally had worked.

“I think I’ll be asking Inej to recoin it, thank you,” Y/N spoke as they exited the boat, thanking Rotty. They tossed their green outfit off, their usual black attire hidden underneath. Unaware of Jesper behind them, checking them out per usual.

“I think not. Inej wouldn’t believe I even made you laugh. Do you want her to know you can show emotion that isn’t being angry or pessimistic?” Jesper asked, standing from the boat. He loved teasing Y/N. It was among his favorite pastimes.

Y/N simply rolled their eyes, kicking Jesper in the shin. “I’ll have you know that the girls have seen me laugh.”

“Why don’t I believe that for a second?” Jesper asked. Because it isn’t entirely true. But why would Y/N give Jesper that satisfaction? They weren’t sure. Maybe it was because for once, they were experiencing feelings they hadn’t in a while.

“Because, the girls wouldn’t tell you if I had laughed.”

“No, no. Nina tells us everything. She tells us when Matthias checks her out, how Kaz does his little glance at Inej every time we’re about to leave for a mission, about how I stare at you for too long. I think she’d tell me about you laughing,” Jesper declared, making Y/N stop in their tracks.

He was good. They’d give him that. “You stare at me for too long?” Y/N turned their boot skidding along the wet concrete of Ketterdam.

“Oh yes, Nina declares it’s because I find you attractive, which I do, but you already knew that,” Jesper said, shrugging.

“Hmm,” Y/N simply said, their lips quirking for a moment in thought. “Fine, they haven’t heard me laugh,” and that was the only thing Y/N said before turning back to walk towards the Crow Club, leaving Jesper there with a dorkish grin.

As Jesper began to follow, he chuckled. “I made Y/N L/N laugh,” and with a skip and pull of his coat in victory, he declared he’d hear that sound again.

#jesper fahey #jesper six of crows #jesper x milo #soc jesper #six of crows #crooked kingdom #kanej #kaz x inej #jesper x reader #shadow and bone #one shot #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #nina zenik #wylan van eck #wylan van sunshine #fluffy #fanfiction

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seasonsofeverlark · 3 years

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Pride

Author: @juxtaposie

Prompt: It’s pride month! Could I request Everlark celebrating pride? [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: T for some swearing

Wordcount: 870

Summary: Personal identities are weird, even when they feel right.

Author’s Note: This piece showcases some of the author’s opinions about the characters sexual identities. If you can’t handle people being anything but straight this probably isn’t the fic for you. ______________

“Three minutes!” Johanna hollers from the foyer. “Parade starts at ten, and if we don’t get a good spot I’m gonna make it everybody’s problem!”

Katniss is still in the bathroom, but she hears Peeta laugh. “I love how she says that like she doesn’t make everything everybody’s problem.”

“She will leave us,” Katniss shoots back through the open door.

“That’s what Lyft is for.”

Katniss sighs. “You know how I feel about getting into a stranger’s car.”

“I’m ready to go, sweetheart,” he says - a gentle reminder that she’s the one who’s holding them up.

She glances at the counter where her (safe, normal) black tank top lays haphazardly with its straps in the sink, then takes another look at herself in the mirror, her anxiety climbing.

“I know I’ve already said it,” Peeta begins, his tone one of exaggerated nonchalance, “but you really don’t have to come if you’re not comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable,” she snaps. They’ve had this talk half a dozen times at this point. “I want to support you.”

“And that means a lot to me,” he says, “but I know how you feel about big crowds of drunk people, and I’d rather you be comfortable at home than uncomfortable out with me at Pride.”

That makes her feel a little bad. She knows she’s been groaning under her breath every time this weekend has come up in conversation, but it has nothing to do with Pride and everything to do with the aforementioned crowds of drunk people - crowds she’s braved for far less important causes.

“I’m gonna pee!” Johanna yells, “then anyone who’s not in the car is finding another ride!”

“It’s now or never, sweetheart,” Peeta says. Then, when she doesn’t answer, he adds, “I’ll bring you some beads.”

Her rickety bed frame creaks as Peeta climbs to his feet, and Katniss peeks around the bathroom door to watch as he runs his hands back through his already wild curls and shuffles slowly towards the bedroom door, like he wants to leave but there’s a magnet inside him trying to drag him back to her. She knows because she feels the same pull in her chest, like their hearts are tethered together and they can only ever be so far apart, and it’s that gentle tug that finally moves her feet.

Squashing down her fear - what is she even afraid of? Peeta is the most accepting person she knows, and she’s never given a shit what anybody else thinks - she steps out of the bathroom, looking at the scuffed toes of her boots. Even with her eyes firmly on the floor it’s hard to miss the way Peeta’s eyes light up when he sees her.

“Hey!” he says excitedly. “You’re wearing-”

“I am,” she says quickly, cutting him off. She pulls self-consciously at the hem of her crop top as Peeta wisely bites his tongue - literally, she can see him clamping his mouth shut - and they stare at each other for a few long moments before she asks, “Is it okay?”

Katniss immediately feels stupid. It’s her goddamn crop top on her goddamn body. Why is she asking Peeta if it’s okay? She doesn’t care what he thinks about however she chooses to identify.

She doesn’t.

Like he can read her mind, he says, “It’s your shirt, Katniss. Do you think it’s okay?”

“Yes,” she replies, trying not to snap and only just barely succeeding. She wants to leave it at that, but her stupid mouth keeps moving. “Do you think it’s right?”

She’s so annoyed when he asks, “Do you think it’s right?”

While she’s fumbling for a response, caught between her annoyance and an irritating fondness, Peeta reaches for her. He slings an arm around her waist, and she doesn’t resist when he pulls her in close. She’s eye level with the pink stripe that makes up the shoulders of his t-shirt, a garishly happy rendition of the bi pride flag, and she’s grateful, not for the first time, that her own shirt is monochrome, except for the purple stripe.

“You’re the only one,” she says, burying her face against his chest so that her words are muffled. “I used to think something was wrong with me. One time freshman year Madge told me she thought Gale was hot, and I just thought she was crazy, or… that I was broken, or something.”

Peeta rubs circles into her back, trying to distract her as he turns them around and starts walking her, backwards, out the open bedroom door. She doesn’t fight him.

“You’re not broken,” he says gently. “You’re perfect.”

She laughs a little. “You have to say that, you’re my boyfriend.”

“I thought you were perfect even when I wasn’t your boyfriend,” he says, kissing the top of her head. Then, before she can protest, he swings her up into his arms and over his shoulder so he can carry her down the stairs.

“Hey!” Johanna says excitedly, almost shouting to be heard over Katniss’ shrieking laughter. “You’re wearing the shirt!”

“One more member of the alphabet mafia,” Peeta says proudly, marching right out the front door that Johanna holds open for him.

“Fuck yeah!” Johanna shouts. “Let’s go to Pride!“

***

Further Author’s Note: In case it isn’t clear, Katniss is demi - and we all know Johanna is a big ol’ lesbian.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #summer #summer 2021 #juxtaposie #submission #prompt #pride

51 notes · View notes

hockeyboysiguess · 4 years

Text

dear winter | c. parakyo

a/n: this one was entirely inspired by and written to dear winter by ajr. highly recommend listening to this while you read. this is your reminder that vince dunn isn’t the only player on the blues. enjoy!

warnings: a little swearing. otherwise, alllllll fluff.

word count: 6K

You sighed as you felt a firm kick to your bladder. You had to give it to her, your baby had great aim, something she’s definitely inherited from her dad since you couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a baseball even if you were being coached through each movement. You rubbed your growing bump softly, a vain attempt to get her to relax, before you grabbed the full file box. Colton would be upset if he knew you were moving boxes without him. You loved Colton, god, did you ever love your husband, but he was treating you like you were going to break any second. He had as soon as you’d told him you were pregnant. You tried to fight him on it, but if Colton wanted something to go a specific way, there was pretty much nothing you could physically do about it. He was a physical immovable force. You settled for doing things when he wasn’t home.

You huffed out a loud breath as you sat down on the couch with what would be your fourth box of the day. You had been trying to go through everything in the room that was going to become “Little P’s” nursery, as Colton called her. You were also using it as an excuse to actually clean out your catch-all spare bedroom instead of just moving the problem of having too much stuff from the bedroom to the attic.

You sucked in a deep breath before blowing off the layer of dust from the top of the box. You lifted the lid and sighed. It was absolutely packed with papers and notebooks, Colton’s notebooks. He religiously kept notebooks, not a diary, not a journal. He rolled his eyes whenever you called them that, telling you that they weren’t diaries or journals because he wrote anything in them, from grocery lists, to hockey plays he thought of, gift ideas for you, anything. He also refused to get rid of a single one, much to your chagrin, but the least you could do was label them with the dates they contained to organize them. Thank god you’d pulled the label maker out for the last box so you didn’t have to get up. Getting up wasn’t your specialty anymore, thanks to Little P being a little less little since her father was a large human being.

You cracked open the first notebook after shaking off more dust, flipping to the first page to grab the date and the last page for the final one. Colton’s notebooks had never been any of your business. You thought he had every right to his private thoughts, something that had absolutely floored him when you started dating. Every other girl had tried to read over his shoulders, sneak a peak when he wasn’t around, but you trusted Colton, which is what you’d told him then and still told him now every time he picked up another notebook. The next notebook opened with a silly drawing, it made you giggle, but you didn’t pry further, simply adding your label and moving on to the next one.

Your brows furrowed when you came to a notebook toward the bottom. Unlike the rest, which were heavily worn in, the pages wrinkled and fanning out, making them appear thicker, this one was only partially started. The wear stopped about three-quarters of the way through it. You found it odd. Colton always finished everything he started, even if it was virtually impossible for him to do so. He was the least wasteful person you’d ever met. You shook off your thoughts. His notebooks were his business, not yours.

Still, regardless of you trying otherwise, your eyes flitted to the first entry in this notebook. The start of it pulled your eyes in unwillingly. It was a letter, a letter to someone else. Your heart sank and you slammed the notebook shut. No, you thought. Colton would never, but then who was he writing to? Your heart was aching in your chest. You trusted and loved your husband more than you ever thought possible for yourself, but your mind was running through possibilities and you needed to know. When your eyed scanned the first words, the tears started to slip out even though you willed them not to.

Dear Winter, I hope you like your name I hope they don't make fun of you When you grow up and go to school, okay? 'Cause Winter is a badass name

Colton’s words continued and your tears kept flowing.

Sorry if you don’t love it, baby girl, but I do and unfortunately for you, one me and one other person get to vote on it and I’m all in for it. Also, I’m not really sure where I got the idea to start this, but I’m two sentences in and I hope one day you think this is as cool as I do right now.

Anyway, I wanted to start by telling you what made me think of your name. I was walking through Forest Park (I’m playing for the Blues right now, in case that ever changes, so I’m in St. Louis) because I was having a pretty terrible day. I botched something at practice, couldn’t get the play right, and coach got angry at me. You probably know I don’t handle people being angry with me well because I doubt that’s ever going to go away. I found out the woman I was seeing actually cheated on me (I know, weird to read from me, but I hope you stick through this one) and I’m missing my family a lot today. (Side note: please come home more, Winter. I love you.)

So I was having a terrible day and decided to take a walk. It was chilly, but sort of comforting. It smelled like it was about to snow. I really hope you know that smell too, sort of like Christmas Eve, my favorite day of the year, as I also assume you know. Then, it started to snow. It was that beautiful, promising fluffy snow that makes me think of hot chocolate and peppermint and family. That’s when I really thought about you for the first time, Winter. I thought about us outside in our front yard, your mom on the front steps, and you catching snowflakes on your tongue. I thought about how you’d ask me to build a snowman with you, even though the snow wasn’t even sticking to the ground. I thought about you, Win. Winter. Some people hate winter. Some people love it. That’s also why it’s your name, Win. You might not be everyone’s cup of tea, Winnie, but that’s okay. You’re not meant to be for everyone. You’re meant to be exactly who are you as you’re reading this.

I'm hoping that some day, I can meet you on this Earth But shit, I gotta meet your mom first

Love, Dad :)

You placed your hand gingerly on your swollen stomach as the tears flowed freely. Colton wrote the first letter in the notebook seven and a half years before today. He’d been writing to her, the little girl still growing in your belly, for years, before you’d even moved to St. Louis let alone met Colton for the first time. Of course Winter would take that moment to kick you in the stomach. Winter. You loved her name too. You’d been racking your brain all day since you’d found out that Little P was a girl, not the boy you were convinced you were having based on your apparently flawed mother’s intuition, so when you found out Little P was a girl, you’d be wracking your brain all day for both a way to tell Colton and what you might name her. Somehow, even though he didn’t know yet, Colton had already taken care of another worry of yours, a man who didn’t know how to love you wrong.

You couldn’t stop yourself from turning to the next page to read the next entry. Unlike his notebook he used every day, the next entry picked up a few weeks later.

Dear Winter, I hope you talk to girls Or boys or anyone you like

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve written to you, but I heard something out a bar that made me come home and immediately grab this notebook. Sorry if this is a little unclear. Dad’s just a little drunk right now, but I want you to know how important this is and I wanted to tell you as soon as possible.

This guy at the bar was being... absolutely awful, Win. This girl was just trying to have a good time with her friends. She was wearing a pin on her jacket with the pride flag on it. This guy started asking her about it. She shrugged, said she was bi, and she moved on. Except he didn’t move on. I heard him talking to his friends, talking terribly about her. He was talking about her sexuality and what it could do for him, how good it would be for him that she was bi. It didn’t sit with me right, so I warned her what he said and she said something that stuck with me so I wanted to tell it to you. She said, “God, thank you for telling me. I’m so fucking tired of guys sexualizing my sexuality for their own sexual gratification. It has nothing to do with them, you know? It’s my sexuality. It’s for me and me alone. I thought it got through all of the bad stuff when my parents kicked me out for it. It just keeps on coming, you know? Fucking sucks.”

Winnie, whoever you like, boys, girls, both, neither, people who don’t identify any particular way, if you know deep down you’re not my little girl, but you’re my son, I’m always, always, always, always going to love you. I will always be in your corner, Win. My love for you will never change. My support for you with never waiver. I will stand with you a pride parades. I will advocate for you. I will do anything I can to make sure you know you are loved and supported and that you can always come to me. I will always protect you, Winter. I will always love you.

If you’re reading this and you haven’t come out yet, the door is open, Win. And I’m standing right there, arms wide open, ready to love the truest version of you, the version of you that makes you feel like your most authentic, happy self. Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready.

Love, Dad

You felt your heart pound hard in your chest. Colton had never wavered on loving whoever your baby was going to be, but this, this was something special. You took a deep breath and looked down at your bump again.

“He loves you so much,” you told her softly as you gently rubbed your bump. “You have the best dad in the entire world. I just hope my genes don’t screw you up too much.”

You flipped to the next entry, laughing to yourself at how it was filled with entirely with car buying advice. Apparently, Colton has just bought a car the day he wrote it and he was keen on sharing his newfound wisdom with Winter. He also talked about how he was going to help Winter buy her first car and exactly what that would entail. It was such dad advice, but somehow it was perfect and it was Colton.

You kept reading, an entry an unknown amount of dates deep, caught your eye. You weren’t sure how deep into this you really were. You were flying through entries, Colton’s loving words pulling you through each page at a lightening pace. This one caught you eye though.

It really doesn't seem like there's anyone for me But dear Winter, I hope you like your name You know I cannot wait to teach you how to curse But shit, I gotta meet your mom first

You think your mom is going to like that I’m cursing in these letters? Probably not. But hopefully she’ll deal. I mean, I play hockey. Cursing is part of the game basically. I hope I teach you well. :)

You know, Win, I saw a couple out at a restaurant today and they were so in love. I, on the other hand, got stood up on a date today. Super fun, right? And super weird to hear from your dad, but it’s the truth. As smooth as I’ve tried to make myself look your whole life, Dad’s not really all that fucking smooth, Winnie.

But anyway, I wanted to tell you that it doesn’t matter if you ever find someone, Win. I wanted to tell you this because I need to hear it right now and even if when you first read this, you don’t need to hear it, I’m betting at some point in your life you will need it. You can achieve every single dream you have without a partner. You can have the life you want. You can have a family. You can make a beautiful life for yourself all on your own. Because you aren’t looking for your other half. You’re a goddamn full, beautiful, powerful person all by yourself. You are complete just as you are and that’s fucking amazing, Winnie.

Am I writing this for you in the future or me now? That’s debatable, but someday you’re going to need a reminder that you are a galaxy of beautiful, stunning possibilities. You are the sun, moon, stars, planets, and everything in between. A galaxy doesn’t need anyone or anything else. Always remember that anyone you let into your life should be in wonder at the galaxy that is you.

Sorry, Dad’s going to get off his weird soapbox now and go to bed. I’ll write you soon. Pinky promise :)

Love always, Dad

You gripped the notebook tightly in your hands, careful not to wrinkle the pages. You briefly thought about how you’d never read one of his notebooks before so maybe pregnancy hormones weren’t the best time to start, but this notebook was for someone. It was for the baby in your belly, so you kept reading.

Dear Winter,

I met someone today. I don’t want to say too much, in case it doesn’t work out. It never really works out for me, does it, Winnie? I hope a) that your mom has much better luck with men than I do with women and b) that you inherit her luck. At least I got her phone number, right? Maybe I can figure out how to sounds less like a guy that really like writing in notebooks and puzzles and more like a guy who is all about parties and adventure?

Actually, no, Win. No. Don’t listen to that. Be whoever you want to be, whatever that looks like. If some guy doesn’t like you because you’re a homebody, reject him and toss him out in the street. He’s clearly no good. Be whoever you want to be, Win. A homebody, a busy body, whoever that is, I’ve got your back for the rest of my life.

(Side note: this girl is super, super pretty and she’s wicked smart with an incredible sense of humor. Kind of hoping this one works out? If not, then I guess on to the next one, right? If not, I’ve got to meet your mom one day, Win. We’ll see when it happens, I guess.)

Love, Dad

Your eyes scanned back up the page to the date. You breath hitched it your throat when you saw it and your hand came over your mouth as your eyes started to fill with tears again. It was about you. That was the day you met Colton for the first time. That memory was burned into your brain forever because it was honestly one of the worst days of your life, until Colton walked in.

You were about to give up. Four cups of coffee at varying degrees of strength had done nothing to stimulate an idea in your brain. Well, it would have been five cups of coffee if you hadn’t spilled the third cup down yourself and stained your favorite sweatshirt that was now a crumpled mess in your backpack. Despite that, you were still face to face with a blank Word document that needed to be six pages long by midnight tonight, which was less than twelve hours away. Procrastination always got the better of you. Today was no exception.

You had opened your day with a trip to the dentist and of course, you had a cavity. You didn’t realize until you got back to your car that your house key wasn’t on your key ring, so you couldn’t go home and your roommate was going to be out all day, so you’d had to post up in your fourth favorite local coffee shop as shops one through three were completely packed. You’d had to park six blocks over because you couldn’t find a spot. All of this chaos had wasted almost two hours you were supposed to be working. Then there was the spilled coffee, which you spilled because your terrible ex-boyfriend had shown up and tried to talk to you. In an effect to escape, the coffee had gotten spilled. To boot, after actually drank coffee number three, your mom had called you and told you your childhood dog had cancer. It was just one of those days. She was fifteen, so you couldn’t say she didn’t live a good, long life. Still, it was a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.

Your music was blaring in your eyes. You were rapidly flipping through Spotify trying to find something that might provide some inspiration. You sighed and rested against the back of the chair as your head fell back. You let out a long sigh and carded your fingers through your hair. Ideas or not, you needed to get started. That went out the window when you saw a large man standing next to your table when you lifted your head. He gave you a sweet smile and a small wave. Your eyes rolled up and down him quickly. He was massive, broader and taller than most people you knew. His size could make him intimidating, but there was something cautious and nervous about the way he moved. One of his large hands was shifting around his iced coffee. The other was fidgeting in his pocket. His smile was kind and inviting. His shoulder were low, hunkering down as if to try and look smaller than he was. It was his eyes that took your breath away for a second, a pair of beautiful baby blues framed by dark glasses.

You yanked one of your headphones out of your ears and raised your eyebrows at him.

“Hi,” he said softly. “Um, all the other tables are full. Do you mind if it sit? I’ve got an appointment in half an hour, so I won’t be in your hair for too long.”

You almost stuttered, but pulled yourself together in time to say, “Oh, yeah, sure.”

He thanked you with a sweeter, wider smile as he dropped down into the chair opposite you. He dwarfed it, and the small table you had stationed yourself at. He was just slightly too big for everything around him, but he didn’t seem to mind much.

“I’m Colton, by the way,” he told you as he opened up a book you hadn’t realized he’d been carrying.

You told him your name softly before you tried to get back to work. Every minute you had was precious at this point to meeting your deadline. Beautiful man or not, you had to get this done. Except he seemed to have other ideas.

“What are you working on?” he asked you after a few minutes. You’d caught him eyeing you as you finally got some sort of an idea, so your fingers were blazing across your keyboard.

“Oh, just this project for work,” you answered flatly, not even looking up from your screen or pausing your furious typing to answer. “I got into this fight with my boss about it because I think her premise is wrong, so I’ve been having some issues trying to write this condensed summary of her position considering I disagree with it. But, hey, a job’s a job, right? At least I’m employed enough to keep my cat fed, the hungry bastard, and support my own coffee habits without a sugar daddy.”

Colton laughed and like your life had sudden become a movie, the sound took your breath away. You couldn’t stop a smile from pulling up the corners of your lips as he laughed. His laugh sort of made you forget how embarrassing what you’d just said was.

“Is he fat?” Colton asked before quickly adding. “Your hungry cat, is he a fat bastard as well as a hungry one?”

“The fattest bastard of them all,” you laughed as grabbed your phone from next to your laptop to show him a photo.

Colton whistled when he saw the photo and nodded softly.

“Put a ribbon on him and you could enter him as a prized heifer in the county fair,” Colton joked, making you smile widely, your first genuinely thrilled smile all day.

“I got him fat from the shelter,” you tried to explain. “I’m trying to put him on a diet, but he’s just not having it. Honestly can’t blame him. Diets are dumb. But the fatso won’t exercise. I got him one of those cat wheels, like a giant hamster wheel but for cats. He barely fits on it and even on the days he finds his balance enough to fit on it, he won’t use it. I’ve sort of thrown in the towel.”

“I think he’s decided how he wants to be in life and you might just have to accept it,” Colton told you. “I’ll stop bugging you, sorry. I said I wouldn’t.”

With that, he turned his attention to his book and you went back to your paper. You sat across from him for the next thirty minutes, occasionally taking glances over at him. You found out later on that he keep looking up at you over the top edge of his book the whole time. You somehow just never caught each other.

As Colton got up to leave, he paused for a second with his phone in his hand, spinning it nervously.

“Um, I know this is probably sort of random and you’re probably not interested, but would you maybe want to get coffee again sometime you don’t have to do work?” Colton asked you, stumbling over practically ever other word on his way to asking you on a date.

You smiled softly as the memory faded out. You placed your hand on your bump again. Thank god the first three coffee shops had been full that day. You gently turned to the next page then the next one and the next one, stopping when the start of another grabbed you.

Dear Winter, don't move too far away And please don't say I'm hovering When I text you to ask about your day I wanna hear about your day Will we still hang out and talk when I'm no longer in charge?

I’m sorry if you ever think I’m hovering, Win, but I promise you, I just want to hear about your day, every single day. Sorry if you move far away for some incredible opportunity and I don’t handle it super well. You know me, your old man, I just want you to be able to catch up with you whenever I want to. I’m a little selfish that way, I guess.

Who knows? Maybe by the time you move, teleportation will be real :)

But if you can, Winter, try and stay close to home. I miss my parents a lot, more than I can properly explain. I know you’re going to be so cool and smart and amazing and you won’t need me someday, but I hope you want me around anyway, even though I’m a lot sometimes.

(Side note: That girl I talked about a while ago, she’s the one who made me think of this letter. I told her I was scared I was hovering too much, that I was smothering her, and she told me she wanted me around even more. I think you’d like her, Win.)

Hold on for someone who cares about you exactly as you are and loves the way you care about people. You shouldn’t have to change the way you care for someone. They should just feel it.

Love, Dad

(P.S. Whenever you read this, please come home for a visit, even if you were here yesterday. I’ve definitely missed you since then.)

Your mind flashed back to Colton’s first road trip a few months after you started dating. You had a busy day, absolutely packed with meetings and work, so you’d barely had any time to glance at your phone all day. When you finally had a second to glance at it on the way to your car, you groaned. Two missed calls and four texts from Colton. Of course, the day he managed to find some time away from the guys to call you when you were supposed to be done with work, you had been kept late and missed him.

You were already dialing his number as you dropped into your driver’s seat to begin the traffic-filled journey home. Colton answered on the second ring.

“Hey.”

Your brows furrowed at his tone. He was trying hard to sound calm, but you could hear the nerves edging at each letter. He swallowed hard, hard enough you could hear it over the phone.

“What’s up, babe?” you asked him as you slowly backed out of your parking space. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing,” he said too quickly. He knew he’d said it too quickly the second it had left his mouth. He sighed and you heard some rustling on his end of the phone, following by a door being shut. “I’m sorry I bugged you today.”

“What?” you asked, even more confused than you had been previously as you turned on your right blinker. “You didn’t bug me, Colt. I asked you to call if you were free anytime outside my work hours. I just ended up working late today, that’s all.”

“Oh, okay.”

You could tell there was still something bothering him. His pitch was too high, responses too short. He was still on edge, something bigger dancing on the tip of his tongue. He knew you knew. You could read him like an open book even through the phone and he knew better than to not tell you when he was upset. “Relationships thrive with windows and doors open,” was what you always told him, and it takes two people to keep them open all the time.

“Am I hovering?” he blurted out. “Am I bothering you? I just, when I called you again, the guys started-”

“Those idiots that couldn’t keep a girl if they had a carefully curated list of instructions from the girl they liked to tell them how to keep her? They don’t know anything,” you jumped in. “You’re not bothering me, Colt. You never bother me. I want as much of you as I can get. If my life was you just and me, having our favorite lazy Saturday where we go to the farmer’s market, play Scrabble, make bad cocktails, and cook unnecessarily complex dinners before we watch some niche movie practically no one else on the planet has ever seen, I’d be so unbelievably happy. I want as much of you as I can have, Colt, and sometimes I feel like I’m asking for too much. You’re not hovering. I want you right here.”

“You’re not asking for too much,” he replied. Of course, Colton would ignore everything you had said to comfort him in favor of comforting you. “You’re sure I’m not too much? I can do less, if that would be better for you. I can, fuck, I don’t know, whatever you need.”

“Colton, I love you,” you sighed. “That’s the easiest thing in the world to say to you. I love you, Colton. I love loving you. I love being loved by you. At least, god, I hope you love me back because now I’m realizing we’ve never actually said that and I’m sort of freaking out, but I love learning to love you better and I love finding new ways to show you I love you. Today’s way is actually telling you I do, I guess.”

“Of course I love you too.”

Colton’s words had reminded you of a prayer, a prayer of a grateful man whose longing, desperate words to something out there that he’d whispered ages ago had finally been answered. You didn’t know how long he’d felt it, definitely longer than you, but love wasn’t a competition. There wasn’t a yardstick, a to-do list, or a formula. Love was whatever you made it to be. You loved Colton, and finally told him, and he loved you, and finally told you. That day, that was all either of you needed.

That day was so clear in your mind. It was the day that set your life on the path it was on, the day that really had started the path that ended up with little Winter being more than a figment in Colton’s mind when he wrote these letters. She was real and you were going to meet her in just a few short months. Your mind wandered forward, seeing Winter’s wide baby blue eyes, you imagined she’d look like Colton as well, hoping your genes didn’t taint his too much to ruin her, as Colton had her sitting on his broad shoulders, securing her safely to him with hands around her ankles as you walked through the zoo. She would be pointing at each animal, tugging on his hair, making sure he saw each and every one. He would be patient, kind, and caring, matching Winter’s excitement in kind with each animal. You would catch him on Google the night before, making sure he knew at least one random, uncommon fact about each one for her, just to make her day. That was the kind of thing Colton said he would do for her to you when you’d shown him the positive pregnancy test, and one of an ever-expanding, never finished lists of reason you wanted to have kids with him.

You sighed as you felt her flip over in your stomach. She was constantly in motion, something that brought you peace because it told you she was healthy, but as much comfort as it brought you, it brought you more discomfort at the very feeling. You shifted on the couch as you turned to the next entry.

Dear Winter, I hope you like your name I hope you let me take a shot with you on your twenty-first But shit, you gotta ask your mom first

I really hope you let me take a shot with you on your birthday. I’m asking because I was at a restaurant early today and saw the dad order two shots of tequila at a five star restaurant for him and his daughter, who had to be about twenty-one when her birthday dessert came out. She thought it was hilarious and you could tell she she did the shot with him that she loved her dad a ton. So naturally I thought of doing it with you. I know you’re definitely not going to think I’m cool by then, and you could be living in Canada instead where the drinking age is lower, but either way, I hope you don’t mind taking a shot with your old man.

But, even if you don’t think I’m cool, even if we have to do the shot together over Facetime, even if Facetime doesn’t exist and you have to text me to ask me what it means when you read this, I hope we do one together. I promise, your old man could drink once, Win!

So, go ask your mom and I’ll break out the good tequila for you! :)

Love, Dad

You would definitely have to approve of the aforementioned tequila shot now that he’d been planning it for almost twenty-five years based on when this was written and when Winter would be twenty-one base on her estimated birthday. You laughed lightly and shook your head. Colton was already winning parenting debates with you and he didn’t even know it. Actually, maybe he did. It would be Colton to have planned this all out just so. You smiled as you flipped to the next entry.

Dear Winter, I'm looking for your mom I gotta find a girl that doesn't mind that I'm inside my head a lot Winter, it won't be too long First, I just gotta find your mom

This whole writing to you as I’ve looked for your mom is how this whole notebook started.

And Winter, boy do I have some good news about your existence for you.

That girl I mentioned a while back? I asked her to marry me today. And somehow, she said yes.

I found her, Win. I found your mom. She’s the most incredible person I’ve ever met in my entire like, that is, until I meet you. And, Winnie, she’s so excited to meet you too someday.

Here’s hoping she likes your name :)

Love, Dad

Your eyes were filled with tears again and you were so caught up in the moment, you missed the sound of Colton fusing with the lock on the front door as he entered the house.

“Baby? Why are you crying? Is everything okay? Is Little P okay? How was the appointment?”

Colton’s questions were flying out of his mouth almost faster than you could understand. You heard his gym bag hit the floor and his feet hit heavy on the hardwood as he rushed over to you. Colton rounded the back of the couch and stopped when he saw what was in your hands. You closed the notebook gently in your hands, careful with the soft leather binding, before pulling the elastic over to keep it closed. You turned your head toward your husband. He was white as a sheet, nervousness coating his features. His baby blue eyes were jumping between your puffy eyes, your stomach, and the notebook in your hands impossibly fast. He swallowed hard, waiting for you to say something because his mind was running too fast toward the brick wall of having to ask you what you thought about what was in your hands to actually speak.

“Colt,” you breathed out softly before placing a hand on your stomach again, “Little P is a girl.”

“A girl? Really? I’m going to be a girl dad? Really?”

Colton’s voice cracked with each word and tears began to spill over almost instantly as he sank onto the couch beside you. Hesitantly, as if he didn’t know if he was still allowed to, he reached a hand out toward your stomach. You grabbed his large hand with both of yours and placed it on your swollen belly.

“Do you want to tell her what her name is?” you asked him softly.

His eyes snapped up to meet yours. He took his bottom lip between his teeth and looked at with cautious, hesitant joy.

“You like it?” Colton asked you, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I love her name, Colton, and since you came up with it, I think she should hear her for the first time from her incredible dad who already loves her more than she can possibly understand.”

You reached a hand out to cup Colton’s face as you spoke. He leaned softly into your hand, his free hand cupping over yours, completely dwarfing it. He smiled at you softly before he placed a gentle kiss onto your palm, a silent way of telling you he loved you. His fingers wrapped around your hand, pulling it down to your belly along with his as his eyes shifted to it.

“Hey, Winter, it’s me, your dad.”

#colton parayko #colton parayko imagine #colton parayko writing #Hockey Fanfiction #hockey writing #hockey imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl blurbs #nhl imagine

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dramaqueeenamby · 4 years

Text

Waves: Wild Hearts

A/N: This is sorta a follow up to Fighter that I’ve had on my computer for months. I have included the ending of that oneshot at the beginning of this one to help refresh memories, but if you want to read Fighter, you can do so here. Yes, there will be a part 2 to this one.

Warnings: Angst

Words: 2K

-GIF from Google-

TAGS: @babe-im-bi @notacamelthatsmywife @queenoftheworldisdead @tashawar @valkryienymph @letsshamelessqueen-m @lettytheletdown @hello-therree @toni9 @kpizzletrash @missdforever @missyperle @mani-lifes @koko-michelle @liquorlaughslove

-----

Previously on Waves

“Now back to the news that broke headlines just last night. Academy Award-Winning Actress Summer Hemsworth was allegedly attacked in her Georgia hotel room last night. Hemsworth suffered two gunshot wounds and reportedly collapsed in the lobby as horrified onlookers called 911 and attempted to stop the bleeding.”

“She was rushed to the local hospital where doctors performed emergency surgery, and as of now, we are hearing reports that she is in stable condition.”

“While details are still unclear, what we do know is that the attacker is now deceased, reportedly at the hands of Summer, who fought him off. In addition, the perpetrator has been identified as Myles Hampton, the same man who stalked and attacked Mrs. Hemsworth almost six years prior.”

“Hampton was sentenced and serving a 15-year sentence which has the world wondering. How did he get out? How was he able to re-traumatize his victim? How--”

“Mommy.”

His son’s voice ripped Christopher from his phone where he was watching the news for reasons even he couldn’t explain. Well, rather, didn’t want to explain.

Elysha glared at her brother, bringing her index finger to her mouth. “Shh. Papa said we gotta be quiet.”

Summer moaned, finally waking up from another nap. They had her on heavy painkillers that made her sleep, much to the chagrin of all four individuals occupying the private hospital room. For the twins, sleep meant she couldn’t talk to them. They needed to hear her voice to know that she was going to be okay.

For Christopher, well, even awake, he still worried.

And for Summer, she just hated to be unconscious as she recognized the concern that it caused her family.

“Did he now?” She whispered, blinking a couple times as she managed to lift her hand, bringing it to Emmett’s cheek. “Well, mama says you don’t have to.”

Both kids responded with a smile, quickly grabbing the sheets on either side of the bed, where they’d remained the entire time.

They wouldn’t leave her side.

“Look, mama,” Elysha chimed as they lifted the papers. “We drew you pictures. Mines is bestest.”

“Nu uh!”

“Uh huh!”

She smiled, ignoring the pain she was still experiencing. It mattered not though. She’d take the pain of survival over the finality of death any day.

“They’re both the bestest,” Summer shared, making both of them grin for a few seconds when she noticed Elysha drop her head. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Elysha took a few seconds, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’re glad you’re okay, mommy.”

“Yeah,” Emmett agreed. “Why’d that mean man try to hurt you, mama?”

Summer closed her eyes. Her pain was no longer a concern. Her priority was the hurt she saw and heard in her children, her beautiful babies prematurely forced to encounter the evils of this world.

“I-”

“Well, it’s about time you woke up, lil’ missy.” Helen spoke with a warm smile as she walked into the room.

Seeing their grandmother raised their spirits just enough to eat away some of Summer’s guilt. Helen walked over and gently felt her daughter’s head. “How you doing, baby?”

Summer, conscious of the watchful set of blue eyes on her, smartly replied. “I’m good, mama.”

Helen nodded. “I see you’re getting some of your color back. Good. You was getting a lil’ pale on me, lil girl.”

Elysha gasped. “Can I have some of mommy’s color, grandma!”

“Me too, grandma!”

The twin’s excitement and naivety made Summer smile. Their uplifted spirits nursed her soul.

“I don’t know about color, but how about you two come with grandma to the cafeteria, and we’ll see what kind of ice cream they have.”

The promise of their favorite dessert quickly dimmed when they realize it meant leaving their mom.

“But-”

“Ya’ll go. Mama has to talk to papa,” Summer referenced Christopher who’d sat silent while allowing the children time to bond with their mother. “Please?”

Emmett groaned but relented. “I’ll bring you ice cream back, mama.” He looked back at Christopher. “You too, papa!”

“I’ll bring you some too, papa!”

Careful kisses on either side of her cheeks preceded the kids finally walking out hand in hand with Helen.

The sound of tiny footsteps repeatedly diminished until they could be heard no more, replaced by heavy-footed strides and the creaking of a chair. Summer closed her eyes at his warm touch, his hand clasped over hers, the other going to her forehead.

He laid his head against her shoulder, Summer angling her own so that she could kiss the top of his head.

She gently tightened her grip on his head. “I’m fine, Christopher.”

“Don’t.” She licked her lips, concern shifting from her kids to her husband. “Don’t give me that shit, Summer. You are not fine.”

“I’m alive, Chris,” she croaked, wanting desperately to stress how grateful she was. “He shot me. Twice. And I’m alive.”

“This never should have fucking happened. If they’d been watching him, he would have never-”

“Hey,” she forced some bass into her voice. “We can’t do that. It happened, and it-it sucks, but-”

“How can you be so calm about this?” He forced out bitterly, finally lifting his head to reveal glazed eyes that burned with fear and rage. “After everything he did, what he tried-”

She attempted the comedic route, something that typically worked for them. “Well, it’s not like this is the first time I’ve almost died.” The dark joke fell through, possibly increasing his irritation. She swallowed. “I-I think-I still don’t know what to think, Chris. I-It’s a lot to process, but I can’t do that right now. Emmett and Elysha are watching us, watching me, and every time I look at them, look at you, I’m reminded of everything I stood to lose, and I’m just-I’m thankful. And the last thing that I want is to further worry the twins…or you.”

He lifted their conjoined hands and gently kissed her fingertips. Summer recognized the gesture as acknowledgment.

“I love you,” she breathed as he moved his mouth to kiss her inner forearm. “So much.”

He brought his hand to her cheek, their eyes meeting with a burning and moving meeting that conferred the ardent love between them but was now tinged with a new emotion.

Fear

Wild Hearts

“Just a few more seconds. Come on, Summer.”

Face scrunched up in discomfort, the actress swallowed her pain and scraped for every bit of resilience that she had left, successfully completing the set before relaxing as soon as her therapist gave her the okay.

Dropping onto the floor, Summer crossed her wrists and placed them over her head. Deep, relaxing breaths abated her nerves and aching muscles as Rene attempted to offer words of encouragement and praise that Summer was only halfheartedly listening to.

It wasn’t that Rene was bad at her job. No, far from it. She was a wonderful physical therapist who pushed Summer in ways that were both challenging while also welcoming. It was that Summer still hadn’t come to accept that she was back at square one. She felt like she was preparing to become Storm all over again. Relearning suddenly replaced years of maintenance. Her schedule had been disrupted, and it created cognitive dissonance.

Hand unconsciously falling onto her core, her fingers slid over the dark scar that still bled with remnants of trauma and regrets. One of two, it was the most prominent and noticeable. Folks rarely paid attention to feet, but the stomach, it was the area that generally garnered a decent amount attention based solely on the level of flatness.

Rene noticed the way Summer’s fingers stroked her slick skin and cleared her throat. “Why don’t we call it a day?”

“The day has been called, ma’am.”

The ginger grinned crookedly and complimented her client. “You did great today.”

Summer snorted, groaning quietly as she sat up and braced her palms against the mat. “Now you’re just kissing my ass.”

“While you do have quite the ass,” Summer rolled her eyes. “I’m not quite sure how my wife and your husband would feel about that.”

Summer rolled her eyes as Rene reached a hand to help her stand up. “Noted.” Rolling her shoulders, Summer walked over to grab her pink Blender Bottle, downing down the water mixed with lemons and limes. The typically acrid mixture was welcoming because of the addition of ice cubes that quenched her parched throat, assisting in the cooling down of her warm body.

“I think we could even maybe move down to twice a week instead of three.”

Swallowing a couple more ounces, Summer lowered her cup and wiped at her mouth. “Seriously?”

Rene nodded as she crossed her arms. “I meant it. You’re doing great.” A beat. “Physically.”

And just like that, Summer rolled her eyes and turned her body to start packing up her items. “Here we go again.”

Rene already knew that she was going to be met with apprehension, but that didn’t dissuade her. “I can only help you rehabilitate your body, Summer. But your mind—”

“—is fine.”

Rene stilled, her green eyes softening. “You can say that until you’re blue in the face, but it makes no difference if you don’t really believe it, and I don’t think you do.”

Summer stilled, her back toward the tall woman. A part of her, a very small part of her, wanted to switch things up. She wanted to entertain the conversation, just to see how it would play out, but another part of her knew exactly how it would play out, so she did as she’d done a lot lately.

“So, same time next week?” She spun around, swinging her bag over her shoulder. Before the other woman could offer a response, Summer shot her a wink and walked past her. “Thank, Rene.”

As if on cue, Phillip’s large frame appeared in the doorway, and Summer’s grin fell.

Arms clasped in front of him, he nodded in acknowledgment. “Ready, Mrs. Hemsworth?”

An elongated sigh escaped as she approached him and managed to reignite her previous smile. “I told you, Summer is fine, but yeah, I’m ready.”

A grunted response that she couldn’t really make out proceeded him opening the door for her only to quickly move back in front of her so that he was blocking her view. For a man his size, he was impressively quick on his feet.

A few more doors, elevator ride down, and Summer was met with the blistering Australian heat as a firm hand moved to her backside and escorted her out the building. Out the corner of her eye, she spotted the photographers who snapped away, a few inching close to the star but not enough where they were in arms reach of Phillip.

They weren’t stupid.

Phillip had served as a bodyguard for some of the most important figures across the world, celebrities and royals included. His resume was impeccable, and he was damn good at his job, a job that, while she respected, Summer felt suffocated by at times.

The fact that she even had a full-time bodyguard was something that she still hadn’t swallowed. She’d always been vocal and open about the fact that she loathed the whole “barrier” between celebrities and “regular degular” people. Her occupation, in her option, shouldn’t place her on a pedestal.

Plus, she was far from hopeless, and so a bodyguard was something could never get with unless they were provided by the event she was attending.

But a certain husband of hers was absolutely adamant about hiring the 24/7 protection following the attack, and while Summer understood his reasoning, she still wasn’t in agreement.

Not that it mattered…

The drive was short as the outpatient treatment center was only about twenty minutes away from the Hemsworth residence. Once they reached the mansion, Summer relieved Phillip from his duties. She had no plans on going out again. Christopher was picking up the kids from school. She’d maybe take Doggy out for a walk on the beachfront, but that didn’t require the 6”3 giant’s presence.

Not even three seconds into the door, Christopher was in front of his wife, hands on her hips as he pecked her lips.

“Hey, honey.”

Summer faltered only for a second before chewing on her bottom lip. “Damn, waiting for someone?”

“Always.” He winked and smacked her ass, prompting her to try to push him away.

“I need to shower,” she protested with a small pout as he brushed her comment off and slyly lowered his mouth down to her ear.

“I’ll join you.”

Summer grinned, momentarily contemplating his offer. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”

“We are married, aren’t we?”

“I mean….” She laughed at his scowl and managed to pull away, walking past him to make her way up the steps. “Can you make us—”

Summer stopped and turned around on the second step only to see that was directly in front of her, on the first step.

She lifted a brow. “Sir?”

“What?”

She crossed her arms. “I’m pretty sure that I said n—Christopher!” She squealed as he silenced her by picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder. “Put me down!”

“I am going to put you down,” he responded while continuing their track up the stairs. “On my dick.”

“Christopher!”

————

Summer rolled over on her side and ran her hand over her face, eyes shut as she struggled to catch her breath. Holding onto the pillow, she pulled the blanket up to her neck, depriving her nude body of the chilly air that the AC caused to consume their room.

She smiled softly as her husband kissed her temple. Feeling the bed creak, he peaked and saw him moving out the way as he started to pull on his clothes. Leaning on her back, she grabbed her phone off the nightstand and saw that it was time for him to leave to pick up the twins.

How long were we?

“Phillip will be here in a few minutes—”

Summer frowned. “What?” She sat up, not caring that the sheet fell down, exposing her breast. “Baby, I told him he could go home for the day.”

Christopher stood up, pulling his pants on. “Why would you do that?”

She looked from side to side. “Because I don’t need him? I didn’t plan on going out today.”

“But you knew that I had to go pick up the kids, so you’d be alone.”

Summer closed her eyes. “Christopher….”

The chime of his phone interrupted her as he glanced at the screen to see that Phillip had arrived and entered the house using the key that Chris thought was a good idea to provide him with. “He’s here. I have to get going.”

Summer frowned and leaned back against the headboard. “Okay.”

Looking back over to see that she was still dissatisfied, he walked over and sat on the bed, reaching out to cup her cheek. “Why don’t you come with me?”

Her brows furrowed. “Seriously? Christopher, you’ve already called the man over here.”

“And?” Chris didn’t see a problem. “He’s staying the night—”

“Again?” Summer was no longer so disappointed. She was irritated. “That’s the third damn time this week.”

“Okay?”

Summer scoffed and moved away from him, crossing her arms. “You know, I would appreciate it if you would actually, maybe, communicate with me before you make these decisions.”

“What is there to talk about, Summer?” He watched her move to the other side of the bed as she kicked the blanket off and scurried around to gather her clothes. “You need pro—”

“No, Christopher, what I need is for you to stop treating me like a child!” A beat. “I can take care of myself!”

“Like you did with Myles?”

Summer clutched the shirt in her hand at the same moment Chris closed his eyes. “Fuck, Summer—“

“You can go to hell,” she whispered, yanking her shirt over her head and marching past him, snatching her arm away from him when he reached for her. “Don’t—“ she stopped, eyes closing as she fought the sob in the back of her throat. “—touch me.”

Christopher recognized that tone. It was rare, but when present, he recognized that nothing he could say or do could penetrate the impenetrable exterior that was Summer’s wall.

The slamming of the bathroom door indicated what he already knew. Walking over to the door and placing his ear against it, welcoming it to the quiet sobs of his wife confirmed it.

He’d fucked up.

-----

A/N: So....whose side ya’ll on?

#chris hemsworth fanfiction #chris hemsworth x reader #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth x black!reader #fic: waves

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absurdthirst · 3 years

Note

Hey, sorry to bother you, but I needed to say this somewhere and get it out of my chest. So, most of my life I have identified as completely 100% straight. Sure, I found women attractive in the sense that I could recognise and admit when a woman was pretty, but it never was anything more than that. A few years ago I started fantasising about being with women (sexually mostly) and I even caught myself flirting with a few every now and then. Now, I moved into a new place and one of my roommates is so insanely attractive, like not just her beauty but her personality as well, and I find myself being smitten when I’m around her. When I sit alone at night to think about it, I am like “okay are we actually actually attracted to her, or is she just beautiful and we’re just astounded by her sheer beauty, just like we always did.” And I’m so so confused, cause like what does this say about myself? What am I attracted to (besides men of course). Like I’ve been having such an identity crisis for the past few weeks and idek what to do about it. I wanna figure myself out cause it’s something that has been bothering me for years. My ex-boyfriend used to say that I’m bisexual every time we had conversations like “oh have you ever slept with another guy/ would you?” Etc etc but I was always like “nah I’m not I just find women pretty the same way you can admit when a guy is objectively handsome.” But now, since I’ve met her I am not so sure anymore. I don’t wanna start calling myself bisexual when I may not be. And I know it’s a completely subjective thing, how you identify yourself, but I don’t wanna be like yeah I’m bisexual and then two years later I realise that oh maybe I’m not bisexual after all. I’m sorry this is a lot, but I just need some advice? Idk if advice can be given in this situation in the first place, but maybe another person’s perspective will help me somehow. Thanks a lot for listening!!

Well, how you identify is completely up to you. It might be her personality that draws you in and attracts you to her. You can be bi-curious. You can be pan, or bisexual with a general preference for men.

The idea that we have to have our shit figured out or completely line up with one sexuality is laughable and honestly something that needs to change. In my opinion, sexuality is fluid.

And the end of the love is love and who you like is who you like (age appropriate of course)

My advice? Don’t label yourself. Just go with the flow and see what happens.

#real talk #tw sexuality

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sugarmaplewings-fics · 4 years

Text

Midnight Ball

Pairing: Todoroki x reader

Warnings: None

Author’s Note:

Day two of Sugar’s Spooky Days/Fall Special

Hehehe I have managed to finish something! Can’t say as much for the Kirishima one, so that might have to be late :(. I should have that one done sometime over the weekend though, so fingers crossed!

I also may or may not have been thinking about Heartless by Marissa Meyer while I wrote that first bit 👀👀 (read it, it’s good, especially if you want to sob your eyeballs out like I did)

I hope you like this one! It was fun for me to write!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.

You had insisted on not coming to this party.

You, of course, had said this as if you had a choice. Really, as someone with your status, you should have the power to make decisions for yourself. But nooo, as the only daughter of the Marquess and Marchioness, it was your duty to attend the king’s bi-annual masquerade ball. Bother.

So, here you were, all dressed up with little intention to dance or even have fun. You clung to the sides of the spacious dancefloor, hoping to keep to yourself enough that no one would try to talk to you. It was truly dreadful what some of your fellow nobility could come up with for small talk. Exchanging formalities and remarking on politics, only then to run off into a tangent on whatever subject may have recently captured their trivial attention.

You longed to be elsewhere—in a library perhaps, or in your garden, working on sketches in your notebook. Gracious, come to think of it, maybe sleeping would even be the better option. It was dreadfully late.

The king always insisted on throwing such parties as these so late at night, stretching all the way to early hours of the morning. You’d gotten plenty of rest prior in preparation for this autumn Midnight Ball, but between the lack of meaningful interaction and your desire to be elsewhere, you found yourself capturing yawns in your gloved hand.

Your childhood best friend didn’t seem to have this problem. You could see her now, indigo skirts swishing around her ankles as she danced with some green haired man. You couldn’t quite tell if you had ever seen him before, but he was probably from some foreign kingdom. You’d certainly hear all about him tomorrow.

You began to grow antsy at your position on the west wall. Your heels were beginning to make your ankles ache, and your mask was growing progressively warmer with each breath. A glance towards the banquet table told you that the coast was clear for you to browse the selection of food laid out, but your corset made you think twice. Your handmaiden had done it so dreadfully tight.

Curses. Not to her, she had done nothing wrong. Maybe at your mother, who insisted on lacing it up in this way.

You chewed at your tongue. Maybe a walk in the courtyard would clear your head. It would definitely be cooler and not so bright. If you were lucky, you may even be alone.

Gathering your (F/C) skirts in your fists, you strode to the door to the outside, ducking through small gatherings of people and curtseying to the guards positioned at the exit. You knew you had made the right decision as soon as the night air hit your face, a cool October breeze seeping behind your mask and ruffling the feathers that adorned it. A full moon lit your path as you walked further into the manicured gardens. You’d been around here before, yet you still allowed yourself time to admire the hedges and trees closing off spaces of land. Flowerbeds were artfully placed wherever they could fit, although you could tell that most of their plentiful blooming yield had already gone back within themselves for the frosty winter. What you were truly interested in was a small pond located in the back, hidden behind a few bushes at its side.

The clear pool laid stagnant before you as you knelt down to look into it. The light of the moon bounced off your bejeweled costume mask, causing the water to sparkle even brighter beneath you. A large koi fish took notice of your signal, lazily sliding its stout, tri-colored body towards the surface in hopes that you may have brought it some food.

“I’m sorry, little friend,” you whispered to its expectant gaping mouth, “I don’t have anything for you.”

You watched him for another moment, little splashes made by the fish’s fins breaking the stillness of both the silent night air and the pool’s surface.

“You’ve upset him.”

The sound of an unfamiliar voice made you start. You straightened, brushing off the front of your skirt. Turning, you saw the figure of a man standing a few paces away from you. His build was lean and strong, and a mask of his own glittered in the all-encompassing moonlight. It was difficult to make out any identifying features, but a part of you just knew that he was intangibly handsome.

“Sorry?” you said, trying to compose yourself.

Perfect. This was just what you had been trying to avoid: interaction. Maybe he’d go easy on you and let you leave soon, or maybe he could have something genuinely worthwhile to say.

“That fish,” he clarified. “He’s hungry.”

You pursed your lips together in thought as you stole a glance back at the pond. Your koi friend had retreated back to the depths of his home as soon as you had turned your back. The air hummed with silence once more.

“Is he, though?” you asked. “He probably gets fed just as well as any other creature living on the grounds.”

The mysterious man shrugged. “True, but perhaps that’s the most joy he gets out of life.”

“Oh.” You stood there awkwardly for a second in silence, trying to think of a response. “That’s a little . . . grim.”

“Sorry.” He shifted. “I’ve always felt bad for fish.”

“How so?”

He took a step closer to the pond, bending a bit at the waist in order for him to see into it better. “They have less freedom. Little to do, nowhere to go . . . sometimes they remind me of myself a bit.”

“Oh?”

“I’m not terribly fond of my father.”

You blinked, wondering if he was going anywhere with this.

His eyes finally snapped up to yours. The moon caught their shades perfectly, drawing out hints of color that would normally be lost to their own depths. It struck you suddenly that you had seen these eyes before; one a steely silver while the other was a lovely cerulean that nearly seemed to glow. Where had you previously seen these eyes?

“Sorry,” he apologized again. “I didn’t mean to overstep.” He straightened up to properly face you, his posture rigid and practiced, just as you had seen all the other noblemen do your whole life. “My name is Shouto Todoroki, son of Duke Enji Todoroki,” he said, piercing eyes growing a little glassy at the voicing of his own name. He bowed to you, and around the top of his mask, you took notice of his perfectly split bi-colored hair. “My lady,” he said.

“Shouto?” Yes, that was right. You’d met him a few times as children, playing together while your families held council meetings. It had to have been nearly ten years since you’d seen him last, and to be honest, he’d grown into quite the man.

“Yes?” he answered, uncertain.

“It’s me,” you said, lifting your mask a bit to better show off your eyes and features in the dim light. “(F/N) (L/N).”

You watched as he did a double take; eyes scanning you from top to bottom as he put a name to your person. “(Y/N) . . . wow, it’s been a long time.”

You chuckled, fiddling with the material of your skirt between your fingers. “You’re not saying I’m old, now, are you?”

He snorted, his posture relaxing. “Of course not, my lady.”

You began to chat, settling in beside him as you wandered around the gardens together. It was only now that you realized how much you had missed your old friend, finding it shockingly easy to talk with him. He spoke of his father and how he intended for Shouto to take his place in power when his time came. You noted the bitterness he carried in his voice, vaguely remembering the emergence of the issue from the last time you’d conversed. He listened to your own life updates, interested in your hobbies and what you had to say about life and time. In fact, it nearly felt as if no time had passed at all, and you’d remained close throughout the years.

The light of the castle began to creep upon the path ahead of you, and you noticed that you’d circled the entire perimeter of the gardens. Music from the ballroom floated to your ears, and you recognized the tune. Influenced by your improved mood, you began to hum along to a few of the notes, nodding your head to the light, peppy rhythm.

Shouto took notice of this, eyeing you with a small smile gracing his usually stoic face. He sped up just enough to come up in front of you, causing you to halt in your tracks. He bowed before you again, one hand behind his back with the other outstretched for your own. “If I may, could I have this dance? This is your king’s ball, and I believe that my lady deserves at least one before the night’s end.”

An unexpected heat climbed to your cheeks. Why were you suddenly feeling this way? Your childhood friend had certainly grown into quite the handsome young man, but you couldn’t ever remember thinking of him in this manner. He’d only ever shown kindness and respect towards you, and it was only now beginning to weigh on you how much you liked him. But this weight wasn’t in any way unpleasant, in fact, it made you feel giddier, almost light and intrepid. What could one dance together hurt?

You rested your hand in his, the fabrics of your gloves sliding together as your fingers met. His head turned up so he could once again make eye contact, drawing your offered appendage to his lips. They brushed over your knuckles, feather light, and you found yourself wishing that the silken material could have been removed. How soft were his lips truly?

Shouto walked you a few paces away onto an open area in the grass, the fragrance of greenery and crisp evening air wafting through the space. Every surface was bathed in a fine layer of moonlight, giving the world a dark, silvery glow. Shouto’s skin gleamed pale and resembled porcelain, eyes shining behind the contrasting shadows of his mask.

With your palm in his, he guided you closer to him, his other hand alighting on the small of your back.

“The moon highlights your beauty remarkably so. I’ve never felt this . . . enamored by someone.”

You shivered at his words, the gentle intensity of his gaze boring into you. You began to fall into step with the music wavering in the background. The cheerful rhythm made your heart soar as you glided over the grass with your partner. He led you through some practiced steps, others entirely new. Your skirts swirled around your ankles, adding an extra flare to each of your movements. The sound of the hidden orchestra was distant and thin, and yet there was such a feeling that instilled through you, almost as if the music had seeped all the way to your marrow.

You watched as Shouto’s face began to relax into a little smile, twirling you this way, dipping you over his strong arm, pulling you back into his chest. The whole ordeal took your breath away, and even in the cool night air, your cheeks began to ignite in a palpable warmth of their own. Time slowed, and it was as though you’d been his dance partner for centuries, finding a rhythm and flowing together as one.

That is, until a shooting pain fired through your ankle, causing you to gasp and stumble. Shouto caught and steadied you in his arms before you could fall very far, worry clouding over his face.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

You grimaced, shifting your weight on your feet. “It’s my heels,” you explained. “Sorry. They’re not the most . . . practical.”

“Here,” Shouto said, offering you his arm. “Take them off. You don’t need them out here.”

Your face heated once again as you leaned on his outstretched appendage, fishing around in your skirts until you found your foot. Within moments, you were free, feet bare in their thin tights, discarded shoes unbuckled and placed neatly aside on the grass. The both of you found a stone bench nearby, and you sat side by side to help ease the strain on your feet. While you took this bit of a breather, you remarked to yourself how much taller Shouto was compared to you. The sight of how much he’d grown over the years, mixed with this newfound urge to rest your head against his broad chest . . . .

“Are you feeling better now, my lady?”

(Y/N). Your name was (Y/N). He could have just as easily called you as such, and yet, the formality set your heart aflutter.

“Yes, I believe I am. Actually, I’m feeling much better. This party was so dull until you happened upon me.”

Shouto’s smile returned, the slightest shine appearing on his upturned lips. “I haven’t enjoyed myself this much in a long time either. Thank you for accepting my offer to dance.”

You hummed and flashed him a genuine grin of your own.

He averted his eyes suddenly, a new tension gripping his shoulders. “I know we haven’t talked in years,” he began, “but if you didn’t mind, I would like to get to know you again, (Y/N). Our kingdoms aren’t too distant, and I would like to write to you sometime when I return home.”

Your smile widened. “That sounds lovely. I’d love to keep in touch with you.” You let your hand wander over to his, taking it up in your fingers.

Shouto smiled again at your touch, raising your joined palms to press another kiss to your knuckles. “I look forward to your response,” he said, lips brushing against your gloved fingers as he spoke, eyes locked on yours.

You could still hear the band playing in the ballroom. To the king, the night was still young, and the party would continue for some time longer. Within moments, you were on your feet again with him, twirling your body to the tempo of the strings and winds. With stars serving as your only audience, you danced with your newfound partner until the early hours of the morning under the light of a full hanging moon.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.

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