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blueikeproductions · 2 months ago

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So next month, EarthSpark is returning for its (most likely) final batch on Paramount+.

The plan so far is it premiers October 25th.

It’s labeled “S3”, but realistically it’s just the next round of the second season. What it involves is anyone’s guess, because the old planning document that was leaked that first revealed CyberWorld has only confused things.

The EarthSpark toys are on clearance and being phased out. Those unsold, dust collecting Cyber Combiners are going to Ollies before long, and the Chaos Terrans aren’t even on shelves here. The Legacy toys are mostly gone too, the TF section is nearly all TFONE and a modest Studio Series selection.

There’s no conceivable way a series that tanked on streaming is getting specials during the successor’s tenure. If that’s how it worked, Animated would’ve gotten a special that tied up loose ends when Prime was on.

The only thing we’re probably getting is Prowl, and maybe Mirage since he was plastered on the leaked document. Considering how poorly handled ES’s (and CV’s since they share staff) ideas were, I don’t have high hopes the Quintesson and Decepticon plot will be handled well to close out ES. Modern shows have a bad habit of butterfly chasing, one idea that has potential to be fleshed out is abandoned on a whim in favor of a spur of the moment idea that isn’t much better. Entertainment in general also tends to learn the wrong lessons, like the awkward lesson taken from Lightyear is the gay kiss was the problem, so let’s just not do gay stuff at all. The gay kiss didn’t help matters due to international cultures unfortunately and the loudest grifters MADE it the problem, when Lightyear and Strange World’s problems were weak story and weaker concepts. To Strange World’s credit, it’d be a perfect Kingdom Hearts level for Sora, Donald and Goofy to run around in and the world turtle’s virus can easily be made into Heartless. Whether they’ll include in Kingdom Hearts, I dunno.

Anyway my point is, after Aligned, Transformers cartoons have all suffered bad writing and characterization: Cyberverse (said by the creators to be made for and by the fans “inbetween” which translated into Twitter IDW canon), War For Cybertron (so bleak, so overacted, so poorly acted, a downgrade in animation as it’s the same studio that made Prime, written so suffocatingly serious, it’s the 13 year old edgelord’s wet dream we grew out of), Prime Wars (oh god that was so bad, they got Peter Cullen and Mark Hamill to save face, and they instead fell flat on their faces), BotBots (the very belated response to Teen Titans Go! and Shopkins) and EarthSpark (a well meaning show using Rescue Bots’ concepts as a spring board, but refused to let go of IDW’s bad ideas, and used “DEI” as a selling point in an era where its slowly dying out.).

The movies were trying to improve, as Bumblebee and RotB are looked in more fondly by TF fans, they got (what hard cores claim) was the appeal of TFs over the Bay trilogy. And now we’re at TFONE, the film that “finally” got it right, but no one went to see.

So where are we at.

With TFONE, most news outlets agree it’s a good movie, but with its abysmal box office performance starting out, it’s not looking like that’s gonna improve, with the newsies saying the Transformers are out of gas. Or is that Energon?

In a way they’re not wrong. It’s been reported Transformers is on a decline, and with the cartoons and toys not doing well either, we’re back to the end of G2, where things aren’t looking good. The difference is we don’t have the flash in a pan miracle that was Hasbro, Kenner and Mainframe making Beast Wars and later the same thing happening with the first Micheal Bay film.

We have been long overdue for a similar kick in the pants, and I think it’s clear Hasbro wanted TFONE to be that, but alas, it’s not despite the good will.

The only kick so far are the Skybound Energon Universe series. They’re doing, as of typing, phenomenally, with the Transformers book being a decent mix of 80’s G1 Movie, Prime, and Bayformers, written and drawn in a way only the people that created Walking Dead and Invincible can do.

The other good will was the Trigger animated 40th Anniversary short.

Skybound and Trigger are the only things people were on board with. Let that sink in.

Trigger also contributed a poster for the Japanese release of TFONE.

So maybe that’s a sign they’ll be allowed to do more official things going forward. Which I think is a good thing.

TFOne is a good movie, but due to Hasbro’s and Paramount’s own indecision on what to do with the movies, and their increasingly dubious canon, we’re stuck with what is officially declared its own thing separate from Bay, though it’s pretty apparent someone internal had to show Lorenzo how irreconcilable ONE was with ROTF & DOTM because The Fallen & Sentinel Prime can’t be villains of both died horribly back on Cybertron. However, the Bayformers series is still very popular among casual fans and audiences. Universal wouldn’t still have its own Bay themed Transformers attraction with the delightfully snarky Movie Megatron if it wasn’t.

So here lies the issues. The movies. Pretty much after TLK, they’ve done poorly in theaters despite their nostalgic popularity. Notably, RotB does really well on streaming, as it did well on P+ and Netflix (in other counties, it’s not on the American one yet). The Garfield Movie is currently #1 on Netflix after having a weak but successful box office. And with preorders now open for home video, ONE walks a slippery slope of everyone agreeing this is the good movie, but no one cares enough to pay money to see it in theaters. It will probably do gangbusters on streaming, going by trends, so that’s probably the best shot it has, as apparently good word of mouth isn’t enough.

It’s not helped there’s continued confusion among casuals if TFONE is a prequel to the Bay films, and it sounds like in very early development it was leaning that way, but the differing designs, and the trailers making the film look more kiddy than Bayhem, was among the turn offs. Like how does it make sense the Transformers started out as more cartoony G1 designs but overtime evolved into the shredded metal Bionicle style. No cartoon had convincingly explained a style shift that drastic.

It was said that if TFONE did well, Hasbro would use that as the basis of future material. Well with its lukewarm performance, there’s no financial incentive to do so, but the general positivity from people about Optimus and Megatron’s blue collar years and the greatly simplified Cog and Cogless system could work in its favor anyway.

There’s still, as of typing, plans to continue with a sequel to TFONE, and while it’s still unknown if Cyberworld will borrow the Worker-Bot backstory for its Optimus… and Galvatron(?), there’s a chance it might for some brand synergy.

We’re at a fork in the road now that One has underperformed and Skybound is the only thing keeping the interest going. CyberWorld has to do what Cyberverse and EarthSpark couldn’t do and attract fresh kids to get into Transformers. Fans think they’re the only ones that matter, but it’s clear with One just appealing to us doesn’t work we need new blood. Just maintaining isn’t enough anymore. Skybound found a way, now we just need to see if CyberWorld can do so too.

#maccadam #transformers #blueike #blueike productions #transformers earthspark #transformers one #transformers one spoilers

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nekoannie-chan · 10 months ago

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Love, love

Title: Love, love.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Steve Rogers X 40’s!Reader.

Word count: 690 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: You and Steve are in love.

Major Tags: Time travel, unexpected kiss, dating.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @multifandom-flash, Valentine’s day card & square 5:

"Garden of love.”

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighss @marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammitt @kmc1989 @somegirlfrom

1937

It all started with a playful glance during painting class and, a few weeks later, a small smile when you noticed the paint stain on Steve's nose.

Steve was too shy to talk to you, and you had ignored all the times Bucky tried to flirt with you.

You were beginning to consider talking to Steve and asking him out for ice cream. Although the last thing you wanted was for his friend to be included in the plan too, you needed him to be alone.

You decided that today would be the day, but first, you had made a plan. One of your friends was going to entertain Barnes so you could talk to Steve; it would be at the end of the class, although you were also going to owe him a trip to the cafeteria, not to mention that you had to put up with her for ten minutes laughing at what you asked her.

"It's beautiful," Steve said, standing behind you.

“Excuse me?" You turned to face him; maybe what you liked the most were his beautiful blue eyes.

“Not you, your painting; I mean, you are beautiful too." Steve now sounded confused; he wasn't even sure what he meant.

“Thanks, Steve."

“Ehm Y/N..."

Wait a minute, he knew your name? You were so excited that you stopped listening to what he was saying; you weren't invisible to him.

“Well, from your silence, I guess that's a no," Steve said, disappointed.

“I'm sorry? I didn't hear you say, “ You wanted to hit yourself; you hadn't paid attention to him.

"Doyouwanttogotothemovieswithme?" Steve repeated it more nervously, turning red.

“Is Saturday okay with you?"

“Sure, I'll pick you up at six."

On the day of the date, you stole a kiss from Steve.

1942

“You want to go to the Stark Expo?" Yeah. Bucky wants us to go on a double date.

You agreed, although it was a little awkward, especially since Bucky's date wouldn't shut up and wouldn't stop repeating how awesome and amazing Barnes was. You were about to shove the bag of popcorn in his mouth, if that would shut him up.

1945

Steve's time in the war was unbearable; you didn't see each other, although you got a letter from him every week without fail.

All you wanted was for it to be over so you could be with him again.

Until the fateful day came, that morning you woke up with a strange feeling. As soon as you opened the door, you knew what it meant. As soon as you saw that woman standing there, you didn't even hear what she was saying; you knew what had happened.

When the war was over, you and Steve were supposed to get married. It was all set; all he had to do was go home.

If there was any way...

2023

“Are you sure about this?" Bucky asked Steve.

“I have a promise to keep; I don't even want to imagine how bad Y/N has been having it, “Steve answered. He simply couldn't stop thinking about the same thing; no matter how hard he searched, he couldn't find any information. It wasn't possible that you had vanished; he was sure of what he experienced; however, it wasn't until he made the time trip with the others that he understood everything.

“Say hello to her for me; don't forget your speech on the big day."

“I'm not as much of an idiot as you are."

“You're more."

1945

You frowned in annoyance. It was the tenth time you had tried to read the recipe, and there was always a different interruption. However, when you opened the door, you dropped the container you were holding.

“S-Steve? “ You feared your senses were deceiving you.

“I promised you I'd come back," Steve said as he picked up the container.

“But... "

“I couldn't let you down, honey." Steve took your hand, leaving the container on the small table next to the door.

“Everything was ready."

“I was the only one missing, wasn't I? I'm here; everything will be all right, I promise."

#Steve Rogers x reader #multifandom flash #multifandom flash bingo #valentine's day #valenine's bingo

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donnerpartyofone · 2 years ago

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Does anybody remember several years ago, while the MCU supremacy was still on the rise, when people briefly complained that Marvel movies were either imitating or actively ripping off fan fiction? Like obviously there were development executives who figured out that fandom was happening, and that fan-created content offered an easy reference guide for what kind of thing would best separate fools from their money, and some fans were reasonably annoyed by being exploited and condescended to like that? I guess whatever outrage popped up then was defused by the pleasure the target demo felt when they saw approximations of their own work brought to big-budget life by no less than the Disney corporation (and to a lesser degree the US military-industrial complex for which it stans). Too bad though, because now the fans who fed the success of the MCU and neo-Star Wars stuff have to deal with the irony of Disney attacking them for copyright infringement--not that that stops any of those people from continuously defending their abuser whenever anyone suggests that it's just a greedy corporation that chews up its underpaid employees to churn out formulaic garbage whose main purposes are securing subscription fees, and templating the production of overpriced merchandise.

But uh anyway, the reason I'm thinking about this now is because of corporate ads I see that utilize actual fan art. It's so crazy what they choose! Recently there was an ad for some Marvel thing that I first assumed was just some tween's blazed post for their little webcomic or whatever; the graphic was really crude and nothing about it stood out, so I was stunned when I finally looked at it long enough to notice that it was a piece of fan art that had been commissioned or acquired to promote some new Marvel show. Now I'm seeing that Teen Wolf ad every four or five posts, and I had that same experience where I went from thinking it was just some random crappy fan art, to realizing that it was crappy fan art offered to me by MTV to get me to watch a professionally-produced television series based on a successful existing property movie based on a TV series based on a popular film (JFC!). The art tells you absolutely nothing; it's just two generic white guys standing stiffly in front of a jeep. There's no style or flair, and it's like...well I remember being at the age when I drew like that, like I was competent enough to draw proportional bodies, but I had a hard time with things like fists, upturned faces, differentiating one character's features from another, and just getting a figure to look like it was standing naturally. So there's this kind of rigorous boringness to the image, and if it weren't for the corporate logos, I'd never have guessed that it wasn't JUST a cruddy no-reason drawing of two anonymous guys. The kind of thing somebody drew just to practice drawing clothes, or cars, or whatever. Not much going on. (Shouldn't there at least be a werewolf or something??)

What I mean to say is that it's interesting what a dysfunctional relationship large scale entertainment companies have with the fans they rely on. Like, the corporations know enough to take their cues from fan content, so we get movies and shows that are patterned on shit from AO3 and we get ads featuring actual low level fan art...but that seems to suggest that the companies think that fans are more interested in fan content than they are in the source material. Is this actually true? Maybe! I'm an outside observer, so I really have no idea if the average fandom member actually prefers awkward drawings and jerkoff prose written by 12 year olds (or people who write like them), to whatever professional comics/movies/shows that stuff is based on. They might genuinely prefer the former by now, or they might just not see any difference anymore. But the choice of fan art for these Tumblr ads is really shocking to me. It's like the marketing people decided it was a good idea to pander to fandoms by using their own content against them, but then they were too afraid to use anything with real personality, and they definitely weren't going to use anything really homemade-looking. So, they just went with something that wasn't too good, and wasn't too bad, either. The graphics chosen don't look remotely as good as some of the stuff that turns up regularly on Tumblr Radar, and are also not as interesting as the truly raw, perverted children's fan art that circulates here all the time. Personally, I think they should go with the latter, and start buying up seriously primitive kid drawings and disgusting fetish art and all that real deal fandom shit that makes fandom so repulsive to the rest of us. If corporations wanna pull that "we're just like you" trick by feeding fan content back to the fans, they should really lean in. Get all that popular rapey, incest-y, queer baiting, mpreg weirdness into the ads and just watch the money roll in.

All that said, I do feel concerned about corporations making a product out of fandom to be sold back to the fandom itself--and assuming that we're ALL potential fans and stans--because I think it identifies a mistake being made re: what professional production should look like. And I don't mean to suggest that "outsiders" don't make great art or write interesting stories ("outsider art" is a suspicious label anyway but you know what I mean); any time something truly inspired and original emerges, it doesn't matter where it comes from. But as a consumer, when I'm asked to pay full price for something, I expect it to be made with a greater level of talent and sophistication than what it takes for a young amateur to get a lot of notes on Tumblr (or wherever) from other young people exactly like themselves. Like I remember being a kid and drawing loving portraits of Fox Mulder, Over and Over and Over Again...but if I spent my precious allowance on the latest X-Files comic and found that the inside looked just like my sketchbooks, I would have felt pretty disappointed. If those comics were advertised using that type of art, I would have felt sad and confused about why a comic based on my favorite popular TV show was no better than what I make for myself in my school notebooks. And it would have been fair for me to feel personally ripped off, too, considering the fact that I made that kind of art for free, and now I was paying some entertainment company to sell it back to me.

As an adult horror fan, I'm part of a community (whether I like it or not!) that produces tons of fan content, and also lots of deeply homemade cinema. Some of it is made with real ingenuity, but like, that makes up a predictably tiny minority of what's out there. Once in a while I see a new-to-me title for rent on a major streaming platform, and after I've paid a normal-movie amount of money to satisfy my optimistic curiosity about it, and I find out that it's just, you know, a no-budget ripoff of EVIL DEAD shot on an iPhone in somebody's mom's basement...then I feel pissed off. And I have a right to feel pissed off! Context is important, and part of the context of a movie is where it is offered, and how much you pay to see it. Like, the world has a seemingly endless supply of shot-on-video movies about vampires starring suburban douchebags in wraparound shades and vinyl clothes from Hot Topic, drooling and slurring around mouthfuls of plastic fangs...and don't get me wrong, those guys have a right to make those things, but if I accidentally paid $20 to see one of them in a theater that was otherwise showing what I will shamelessly call Real Movies, I'd be mad. And more to the point, if I had shed the blood sweat & tears required to make a Real Movie myself, which is an almost miraculous feat even for something that comes out bad, and I saw my title on a marquis next to one of those mall goth camcorder movies, I'd probably feel like I failed somehow.

I'm thinking of something I saw recently about a new author who debuted on the NYT best-seller list, who had been plucked from fan fiction obscurity by the business minds at a mainstream publisher. Obviously the execs realized what kind of traffic fan fiction did online and figured they could just skin and repackage that shit as an original romance novel--and they were right. There was nothing apparently special about the book except that the author enjoyed some preexisting fandom community recognition, and the book fit with preexisting fic formulae. The article that described this event included a writer's statement that was itself incredibly primitive, basically saying (inarticulately) that they felt like they had no idea what they were doing but their editor was really helpful in hammering their raw, amateurish writing into something recognizable as a book you'd see in a real, normal bookstore. And like, you can really imagine what happened there, when you read that. And I don't think that should be happening.

I'm sure that for some people, writing and drawing fan content is a great gateway to perfecting a craft, along with formal education, studying lots of different kinds of art and reading lots of different kinds of writing besides the one thing that's your favorite, suffering regular rejection letters and painful criticism, seeking mentorship with experienced pros, gaining your own professional experience, and just plain old making sacrifices and putting in the hours. And that's fine. But, I just don't think publishing houses and production studios with even a modicum of reach and power should put a cap on quality at "rando who gets a lot of traction on deviant art dot com". Call me elitist all you want, I don't think we should put grownup price tags on shit kids make for free to amuse each other. I don't think we should suggest to creators and producers of all kinds that nobody has to try any harder than that. And we shouldn't suggest, by proxy, that audiences don't deserve any better than that, either.

#i swear to god i will stop complaining about this someday #but not this day!

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karmibh6 · 6 years ago

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Observation

I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned in my blog that I wanted to write something, and because I’m weak and I can’t believe the lack of karmiro fics around, I needed to rememdy that, so here’s a little thing I hope you guys like it:

Hiro tries and fails to understand why people are so excited over pairing or 'shipping' - as Fred said - him with Karmi.

Well not him, but his hero self.

It's not like he even understands Karmi having a - he feels his nose scrunch at the word - crush on him; and if he's honest, he doesn't want Aun Cass' painfully awkward 'talk' or Baymax's needlessly and long explanations on how puberty affects hormones to help him understand.

That left his friends, but between Wasabi's fear of touching anyone, Gogo's bluntness, Honey's tirade on how love is 'just another type of chemistry', without mentioning of course Fred's long exposition about the debacle of Spiderman, MJ and Gwen Stacy; he just ended up more confused than before.

Hiro took upon himself to observe, which in as with everything sounded good in theory, but in practice he had to be careful not to look like a creep or worse a stalker.

Really he was lucky that he shared a couple of classes with Karmi.

The unlucky part of course was that for some weird reason Karmi thought he was the one with a crush on her, and was pretty observant herself so that only doubled his job.

The moment he entered the classroom, he looked around for her and there she found her as usual, in the front sitting by herself on a work table meant for two.

“Morning Karmi.” He decided to just wind it at this point, after she only mumbled what he assumed sounded like ‘morning’ too, he pressed: “Is this seat taken?”

For what it felt like the longest moment, Karmi seemed to be commited on glaring at him to chase him away, what she didn’t know is that it was hard to be intimidated by the same eyes that looked adoringly to him when he put a helmet on, so he just stood there, waiting.

“...I guess not.” She mumbled again, and he didn’t miss how she scooted her seat a bit farther from his when he finally sat down.

Observing her while he also paid attention in class was a little harder than he had initially thought, after all Granville was the teacher this time and he didn’t need to have another talk given to him.

From the tiny moments his eyes sneaked to Karmi, it was easy to tell she was not troubled at all with him there, she was completely focused on the class and her notes.

He did notice a couple thing however:

The way she gripped on the pen when writing down something very fast, or how she tended to chew on the tip before going back to writing again.

Her eyes moving quickly from the board to Granville to her notebook, and then how she squinted when trying to undestand an equation.

When she hunched over her work her hair fell on her shoulder and a couple of stray strands fell on top of her eyes, she seemed to be worked up over something because her form was hunched even more and he noticed she was biting on her bottom lip, her hand gripping the pen a little too tightly...

“Mr. Hamada!” Hiro was sure that the only reason he didn’t actually jump on his seat was because that was obviously physically impossible, but it certainly felt like he had anyway.

“Yes, Professor?” It wasn't anything new to be on the other side of Granville's infamous glare but for some reason this time it felt different, infact she wasn't really glaring at him, her eyebrow was quirked and maybe he was mistaken but it looked like she wanted to smile.

"Pay attention." She simply said and continued to write on the board.

'Uh?' Hiro sat down took his pencil to keep working.

"Mr. Hamada, stay please."

Great, of course he wouldn't be so lucky as to escape a nagging, so he had wait next to the desk until the last person - Karmi, as usual wanting some extra praise and to throw him a mocking glare - left the class.

Of course Granville turned to talk to him just as he was sticking his tongue out to Karmi's back.

"Errr, did you want to discuss something?" He put his hands behind his back and putting on his best 'good boy' look, surprisinly she didn’t make any comments and simply walked around him to stand behind her desk.

"I couldn’t help notice that you were a bit... distracted today Mr. Hamada, and I have not heard anything about a new deranged person or ‘supervillain’ as you may put it trying to blow up San Fransokyo.”

“I just been thinking of some other stuff....” Namely a certain person, but if he said that he would be better being swallowed up by the ground.

May I borrow your notes of today Mr. Hamada?” She simply asked.

“Sure, He-eeek!” the squeak that left him was faster than his hands trying to close the notebook again only to be pulled out of his hands by hers. “Before you get any weird ideas I swear I can explain!”

“You can explain why you were doodling in my class? Should I request a transfer to the SFAI?” She held the notebook at her eyelevel, which forced Hiro to face what he had done.

“What?! No please! I swear it won’t happen again!” He almost wanted to jump onto the desk, rip that page, throw it into the trash and forget that any of this had happened.

“I actually intended it as a compliment, regardless of the rivalries of our schools, as a professor I must encourage my student’s interests.” She smiled then. “It is a very good drawing, you managed to capture the essence of your classmate perfectly, even the focus in her eyes, you are very observant Mr. Hamada, may I ask however what prompted this?”

With each word, Hiro felt more and more like lying on the ground until he couldn’t feel the burning of his face and the wild beating of his heart, or the look of the knowing smile of Granville.

But he knew the image of his sketch of Karmi would chase him wherever he went.

#big hero 6 the series #hiro hamada #karmi #karmi bh6 #karmiro #my fics #I may do a companion fic of this #with Karmi if this is well received #this was fun to write #I guess writing awkward teens is entertaining now #look if Hiro can draw diagrams #he can draw people okay?#also Granville totally ships them

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s1ater · 4 years ago

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hey queen i’m gonna ask politely for a part two of “high school rivals” i just need it in my life that was one of the best hawk fics i’ve read so mrs gorl do me a solid and write a part two! i will forever be in your debt!!!! anyways love you and all the stuff you’ve written!❤️❤️

highschool rivals, part two. eli moskowitz x reader

summary 📣: in which reader believes hawk is fucking with her when saying he does karate, but he won’t prove otherwise, no matter how much she begs.

warnings 🚫: swearing, drinking , also reader and miguel are only friends (i swear it’s not flirting), uhh

slater’s note 🗯: yuh, finally updated, sorry it took so long i’ve literally had no MOTIVATION but hey(love you bae thank you for giving me motivation to update)

part one, part two

the weekend reached faster than you thought it would, giving you no time to think out a plan on how to set hawk off.

maybe you should’ve just gotten over it, but the urge to egg him on, to watch him snap kept a provoking feeling in the inside of your stomach to keep planning.

you didn’t understand why, but something about hawk just fascinated you, made you obsessed with thoughts of him and what he could do to you.

and maybe the thought setting him off into a rage set you off into excitement of what he would do to you.

pinning you down, overpowering your strength just so he could win, anything and everything to show the dominance he had over you.

oh it was wrong, but so so fun to think about.

saturday morning hit you hard from a rough hangover resonating from the night before with mia and harper, a lot of drinking taking place due to it being harper’s birthday and all she wanted to do was watch old movies and drink till she blacked out.

and oh boy did she really black out.

and so did mia, leaving you up and alone with edward scissor hands playing in the background as your newly drunken mind searched through your phone for something entertaining.

someone entertaining.

your first choice, miguel, him being the first one to pop up on your recently snapped on snap chat.

y/n: i’m bored, come hang out w me

miguel: u drinking yet?

y/n: ye

miguel: i’d come but i’m w people

y/n: uh fuk yow

miguel: aren’t we hanging out tomorrow anyways

y/n: yeh but everyone’s aslep now

miguel: oh facts

eli wants to talk to you

your drunken self had rolled your eyes, sliding out of the chat and into hawk’s snap user who was already typing.

hawk: can i come over?

y/n: no

hawk: awh, why not princess

y/n: shut up

people who lie about being in karate don’t get to come to drinking parties

hawk: oh?

y/n: yeah now leve me alone

...

hawk: miss me yet?

it was like he knew how to play the game perfectly, a game that wasn’t even really a game. just teasing being held between two hormonal teens who made out a couple of times.

he knew exactly how to get into your mind which is why it didn’t take long before he had convinced you to allow him to sneak over to harper’s house, wearing a black hoodie that was draped over his head with miguel following right behind with glasses you had never seen on him before.

“you said you were with people,” you had narrowed your brows, looking over hawk’s shoulder at miguel who was still outside due to you blocking the way in through the sliding door.

his eyes connected to yours after slowly analyzing his surroundings as if something would pop out of the dark at any moment.

“yeah,” he jerked his head a bit, “i’m with lover boy here who convinced me to drive him five miles to a drunk birthday party at two in the morning.”

you studied miguel a bit more better, realizing he had slightly smears of acne cream on his cheeks and forehead, pulling together the glasses and pajama pants look. he seemed annoyed and tired, which made sense since it actually was two in the morning.

“hi,” your eyes drew away from miguel to hawk who smiled smoothly, his red hair peaking out from underneath his hood, dipping down into a form you had never seen it; flat.

“hi,” you replied, slightly shocked before being pulled in closer to him, his cold hands rubbing up and down your waist before peaking underneath your own hoodie.

his cool finger tips pressed into your hipbones, his fingernails slightly curving and breaking into your skin as he tried to get an even tighter hold on you. the pads of his thumbs rubbed up and down against the dips of your stomach as he continued to stare straight into your eyes, calmly.

“so, can we get this train moving or are we gonna stand in the doorway for the rest of the night?”

you couldn’t recall if you had gone anywhere farther than rubbing skin against skin with the boy or his lips pressing against your forehead biding you sweet dreams as he left before the rest of the morning could catch him. the alcohol eating away at all memories and events that had happened between two and five.

y/n: hey, can i head over?

miguel: yeah, eli should be there to let you in

the weekend had entailed a lot of hanging out, saturday implying drinking and just general talking in miguel’s apartment with robby, hawk, harper, and mia.

you weren’t exactly sure if it was a good idea to be drinking day after day but it was your teenage years, whats the worst that could happen?

“you’re early.”

you frowned watching the door open to only see hawk, his expression dead, almost like he was annoyed but he still let you in, leaving the apartment door wide open.

“where’s miguel?” you asked, stepping into the cool apartment from the roasting air, a feeling of relief settling on your skin as you were no longer cooking into a chicken in the hot sun.

“what do you mean?”

“well this is his apartment... right?” you looked around analyzing the small space. it was neat but there was some kind of atmosphere filling the air making the whole area dark.

you sat on the couch watching eli as he seemed to be rummaging around the kitchen, seemingly ignoring you by not answering your question.

“what’re you doing?”

“nothing.”

“wanna spar?”

he looks up, his eyes meeting dead in yours, “shut up.”

“okay...”

the apartment soon seems to fill with a silence quickly and rather awkwardly as you sat there, patting your lap with your hands, switching between each thigh as your mind raced.

do something.

but you didn’t think it was a good idea to do something, it had only been a minute into your arrival and he already seemed snappy.

it was then did you really wish you could remember everything that had happened the night before and as to why it was so suddenly awkward.

it didn’t make sense, he would always find something to talk about, that was one of the first things you had picked up on about him.

“you mad at me?”

“no,” he said it slowly, glancing over to you as you were already looking at him, how shifting your position on the couch.

“why’re you being weird.”

he laughed.

and then... ignored your question.

“what happened last night?”

he looked up from the counter again, you had noticed he was writing something down, making you guess he was doing his homework or something.

he also seemed annoyed, looking over once again to your doubtful state.

“you were drunk.”

“yeah, the killer headache i had this morning told me.”

“yeah...”

“why’re you being to fucking weird?”

“i’m not, jesus,” he snapped at you, his face screwing up with annoyance as well as slight confusion as to wondering why you were being so anxious.

“you seem mad, man.”

“well maybe if you shut-“

“i got the alc!” the sudden noise of the apartment door opened caused eli to cut himself off, looking over to the white chipped door open, revealing miguel and robby.

you clenched your jaw, looking away from the two boys and to the floor, thinking about the sentence hawk was about to spat in front of your face before interrupted.

shut up.

“you two good?”

masterlist

taglist 🗞:

join my taglist for good luck

@bigbilliamdenbro @axastasiasstuff @spiderman-berries @alexmercer-reginaldpeters @teti-menchon0604 @lydiaamphlett @notyourfuckingbusinesss @estupidteen @torynicholsgf @nessa1107 @carpioassists @vhscherry @simplytpwk @sinicalh4wk @amongtheweepingwillows @write-from-the-heart

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liam-93-productions · 4 years ago

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This weekend it’s the UK’s biggest event on the entertainment calendar, with the 74th EE British Academy of Film and Television Awards taking place at the Albert Hall with guests and nominees attending virtually for the first time, thanks to Covid-19. And while the awards promise to be as exciting as possible in these unprecedented times, on Sunday night we will also be treated to another exciting world-first in the form of Liam Payne being beamed into houses up and down the country while performing for the opening of the ceremony.

Yup, if you’ve ever fancied the former One Direction crooner serenading you at the end of your bed, on Sunday you can make your dreams a reality – or augmented reality – as Liam has joined forces with the EE network to create a 3D avatar hologram of himself that can be beamed through the app ‘The Round’ (available on any mobile device) as he performs at the Albert Hall. Super fans can also get to experience the avatar in their homes, or on-the-go, ahead of the performance, if they tune in via the app at 6.45pm, 15 minutes before the hologram joins real Liam on stage to perform.

GLAMOUR caught up with Liam to discuss this sci-fi sounding excitement as well as hear how the past year has treated him. In a wide-ranging chat with the ever-charming Liam, we covered all things from the struggles of lockdown and coping with his mental health to his former bandmates, burgeoning acting career, new music (...).

Is the fact that you're performing at the BAFTAs a sign that your acting career is on the rise?

I've done a lot of auditions, a lot of tapes. The thing about acting somebody told me, it’s very much like: are you right for the part and is the part right for you? I think it takes a lot of talent, luck and judgment going into acting to actually get into a job. I mean, hat's off to anybody who does it because it's a long process. I seem to get through to like the final five or final three people for every role and then not quite get it. Which is frustrating but, you know, that’s how it goes. I've had a fair few auditions and I was lucky enough to get into the final five again for one audition that I got to meet Steven Spielberg [a couple of years ago] on my 25th birthday which was quite amazing. But it's been fairly slow through the pandemic obviously.

And what about music? Have you been writing anything, or even been in the studio?

I'm going to the studio later on today actually, to record something for the first time in a while. Which is quite weird to be traveling back into London to go into work. I've been doing some stuff from home as well, which has been quite interesting. Zoom sessions don't really work out all that well, it's very difficult. I'm sure a lot of musicians will agree. So, it's been kind of hard to work properly during this half of the pandemic. The other first half of the pandemic, I just did these live shows, which was really amazing to play live and do them online, which was kind of strange... It's been difficult in terms of the creative process for me.

The past year has been challenging for absolutely everyone, no matter their circumstances. How has it affected you on a personal and a professional level?

In the first half of it, I was so busy that I didn't really notice it as much, except for having to do a lot of stuff myself without crew and learning to do hair and makeup was kind of a weird experience. But then this second half, I stopped working and I had a full, proper month off [and that was] really hard. And it was all a bit dark for me for a little bit and I'm sure many people experienced it. Just not being able to go anywhere, not be able to do anything. It really, really hit home. And I just found myself sat in the same place day in, day out. And I was like, okay, I really do not know what to do with myself.

You’ve bravely spoken about struggling with your mental health in the past, and you say now that you did go into a bit of a dark place recently, how have you coped with that?

I think it's an ongoing experience. For me, learning to relax has always been quite a hard thing to do because I feel like if I'm not moving forward, then I must be going backwards. And I think that's something that I've always struggled with. So, in a way it's kind of a blessing in disguise, as this has all kind of taught me to relax a little bit more. And to not be so worried about that, like the world is not going to fall over if I don't do something today. So, it's been nice in that respect. But I think for a lot of people it's difficult, and I definitely took for granted how much I miss my family. I'm used to being away from home, I'm used to being abroad and not seeing very much of them. But I'd always see them at a show or at something once a year. And then now that that's all been taken away, it's been a lot to not see my family and realise how much they actually ground me.

So, what have you found helpful or supportive during the past year? Have you turned to anything to get you through these dark times?

Friends that are there for you... [talking to] one of my managers that I'm quite close with. I think a lot of guys struggle to talk about what the hell is going on a lot of the time. And for me and him, actually we're quite heart on our sleeves sort of people, so we talk a lot about different things. But I think if I didn't have that, someone to share that with, I think I would have struggled a hell of a lot more.

Like a mental health mate?

I mean, we literally talk about everything. We're probably too honest with each other! But I think it's important that everybody has that person. I'll be honest, at the start of this, drinking definitely became a lot more of a thing because there just didn't seem to be any boundaries. I wouldn't say I drank too much, I'd say I drank too often. Just through the boredom, I guess. A lot of people were going through that though I think - there was so many funny, great memes about it I saw friends of mine put up. But it can be quite dark at times. I think the only thing that's really helped me through that is just learning to work out again and learning to put boundaries in for myself in terms of what food I'm eating. As a pop star, I think you're always quite weight conscious. My job has always been about having to work out, doing underwear modelling and all that sort of thing, it makes you quite body conscious at times. It was nice to be able to just sit and eat pizza and chocolate, I really enjoyed that. But getting myself back into the habit of working out and then having a cheat day put in place, so that there was more boundaries in line, I think has definitely helped me.

I'm quite fortunate that I don't put a stack of weight on, although I have gone up rather a lot in size over this time. But I think it was more about routine for me than anything. And I always say, having a small victory before you get into bed at night time. Or life just gets depressing. Whether that small victory is making sure you've spoken to a family member, you've worked out, or whether you did learn to do something today, just something small. There's one task that you literally can't be arsed with, you should get done just on the day, so that you feel good about yourself when you get into bed.

That's so important. So, do you almost have a checklist before you go to bed?

I think as long as I make the gym and I've done that bit and I've taken care of my needs, just cooked some nice food. That's mainly it for me, really. And then I feel good about it. (...)

(...)

Moving on to social media, you've obviously got such a massively positive fan base, but how do you cope with the negative side of social media and the impact that can have on your mental health?

I struggled with it for a long time. I argued with people. I was aggressive on their points trying to fight my own side. And I think for some people you are talking to a brick wall, you will not win and there's no point trying. And also, the more you talk about it, the worse it gets. So, I just shut up and put up a lot of the time. I think it's the Queen that says, "never complain or never explain." And that's something I think myself I do live by because it's just like, with some people it gets worse having the argument and trying to explain yourself. But all of it, it's like five minutes of your life for somebody who doesn't know you, it's just a bit pointless.

You have so much intense public scrutiny on you all the time, how do you navigate keeping something back for yourself, and how have you managed to maintain that sense of privacy over the years?

I think this has been one of my biggest struggles this whole time. Because, I'm very much a heart on the sleeve sort of person. I didn't actually realize this for a long time, but I often give a little bit too much away…But it's definitely a difficult one to flick the two people apart. So that you're on stage, you're a certain type of person, and at home you're a certain type of person. That's always something I've really struggled with.

And you've been famous since the age of 16. How did you manage growing up in that sort of public glare?

Never did! [laughs] My friend was [recently] talking about how he’s got a teenage son that he was really struggling with at the moment. And I was thinking, "oh my God, imagine how much people would have struggled having five teenagers, rowdy boys in a band. It must've been terrible, there's no getting through to them!" And for a while, it probably was. I think we all go through that awkward teen phase where you're finding yourself. And most of us, we get to get away with it. And they're funny family photos for later on; here was your emo phase or whatever you went through! And for us, we never got away with being awkward or annoying at points. It was kind of out there for everyone to see; the awful haircuts and we’re talking terrible clothes, it was all out there.

What has your career taught you about the idea of success and the idea of failure?

I think it's taught me lots about how you would measure success. I came from a family that weren't very well off. We didn't have a lot. My dad was in debt actually when I started. So, success for me always meant a monetary thing to start off with. But then as I got older, I realized I don't really buy all that much. I don't really spend a hell of a lot of money. So, it can't be about a money sort of thing. And it's more now become more about happiness and experiences. And the one thing I always say about my job, no matter what, and everybody gets annoyed at their job sometimes, it is what it is. But for me, at least I get to put a smile on someone's face.

Yes, you do! And what has it taught you about failure?

That's a really good question. It’s taught me I think that perseverance will always prevail in that sense. Because it doesn't always go exactly to plan. We were really lucky when we came up, we absolutely skyrocketed. And then, it's been hard to follow that ever since. But you know, measuring a failure as well. What is a failure? And people will look at this and, for us sometimes getting a 100,000,000 streams isn't quite what we aim for, but it's still 100,000,000 streams….you have to kind of get a hold of yourself. Everything is about perspective at the end of the day, isn't it? That was something I struggled with for a long time, because of how well it went [for the band.]

So you had such high expectations for everything?

Yeah. And it's like, time to give that a break really. And Louis from my band has always been quite great to sit with me and talk with me about stuff. And if I'm feeling a certain way. We've been quite good with each other, actually in that respect and helping each other out, which has been nice.

And finally, if you could sit down with the Liam who was starting out in One Direction in 2010, what advice would you have for him?

I think just have more fun and relax a little bit. I think I was a very serious child, one of those man-childs, I was a man in a child's body pretty early on. And I think I would have avoided that stage, to be honest with you. To enter One Direction as that difficult, because it just meant that I got completely a different job to everybody else.

You were the grown up one?

That was it. And it was boring. I should have just larked around and thrown plates out the window and stuff!

More rock and roll?

Well, I mean at the start, and then later on a bit less rock and roll [laughing.]

Well, thank you so much, Liam. And we look forward to seeing your performance on Sunday at the BAFTAs.

I'll see you wherever you want me in your house, I guess.

Liam Payne is performing an exclusive EE BAFTA AR real-time music performance, ahead of his 5G-powered opening show at the 2021 EE BAFTA Film Awards. Download ‘The Round’ app to enjoy the live AR experience through your mobile phone, wherever you are, this Sunday 11th April 2021 at 18:45pm BST.

#liam payne #liam's interviews #glamour uk #ee baftas #07.04.2021

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neocatharsis · 4 years ago

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NCT’s Mark Lee on Dreams, Instagram Poetry, and Growing Up

Mark has a lot going on — but he’s making time for poetry, introspection, and, of course, the members of NCT Dream. - Vivien Wu

“I’ve been thinking about dreams a lot these days!” Mark Lee exclaims over Zoom from SM Entertainment’s Seoul headquarters.

The 21-year-old leader of NCT Dream is enthusiastic as he mulls over the meaning of dreams, his back against a wall of pink and yellow flowers assembled by his fellow NCT members. He’s wearing a simple, white tee, and when he gestures with his hands, you can catch glimpses of the friendship ring that all seven members of NCT Dream wear as a symbol of their bond.

“I actually feel like dreams hold a large portion of a life, and I’m not just talking about the subconscious dreams that we all have when we sleep,” he continues. “If you put it in a way where dreams are actually things that motivate us, and the drive that keeps us going, especially as a strongly driven person myself, I feel like… a guy with no dreams is like…” He looks up, thinking. “…A car with no engine. So, I think it’s as important as yourself. That’s how deep I go with dreams.”

His interest in dreams is fitting, considering that they are also the central, underlying concept to the lore behind NCT Dream’s parent group, NCT. They connect their three subunits, NCT 127, NCT Dream, and WayV, in a complex, Inception-inspired fictional universe where dreams are the only way they can find each other, and where upon uniting they can mix to form new subunits collectively referred to as NCT U. In practical terms, this has resulted in a 23-member mega-group that is multifaceted in every way — from their musical styles and visual aesthetics to their cultural backgrounds and spoken languages.

NCT Dream’s original teenage concept meant that members were supposed to “graduate” when they came of age, and as the oldest, Mark was the first to leave the group at the end of 2018. Having grown attached, however, fans were devastated at his departure; after a year of separation, SM announced that the graduation system would be scrapped and that he would rejoin the group. Their new album, Hot Sauce, is the first with Mark in over two years. As fellow member Haechan declared in an interview with Teen Vogue earlier this week, “Mark [is] very special. NCT Dream means Mark.”

But before the rapper led NCT Dream, and before he joined NCT U and NCT 127 and SuperM — the man is in high demand — Mark’s childhood dream was writing. He grew up in Toronto, and through doing school projects and essays quickly discovered that he had a natural way with words. Inspired by Percy Jackson author Rick Riordan, Harry Potter, and James Patterson, Mark dreamt of becoming an author, long before he was recruited by SM at a global audition in Canada in 2012. “When I was in school, I was always the kind of guy who would write more than expected, and that became a thing that clicked for me,” he says. “I was like, ‘Maybe it’s something that I naturally do?’ But then that kind of turned into rap writing too, so I guess they kind of clicked together.” It explains his prolific career as a lyricist; since debuting, he’s amassed over 30 songwriting credits across his various groups, contributing to songs as iconic as NCT U’s “Boss,” NCT 127’s “Cherry Bomb,” and NCT Dream’s “Chewing Gum.”

Even with such an extensive body of work, however, penning lyrics hasn’t satiated his appetite for literary expression. In an interview with Japanese magazine Men’s Non-No, he revealed that he still hopes one day to write a book, whether that be a novel, autobiography, or something more philosophical.

In the meantime, he’s taken to writing what are basically short poems on his Instagram, which he created just a few months ago. He’s gathered over 4.5 million followers since then, but having such a large audience hasn’t deterred him from being endearingly vulnerable with the way he writes. When I refer to them as poems, he laughs and looks embarrassed, but when I ask him to tell me the stories behind them, he’s enthusiastic again. They’re short, but offer brief glimpses into Mark the writer — sharp, inquisitive, and thoughtful. As pieces of literature, they’re a little rough around the edges, but the sincerity he’s known for shines through, illuminating the introspective, philosophical side that may not be so obvious in person.

His first poem, loosely titled “Late Night Scribbling,” put into words his musings about sleep, thoughts, feelings, and writing. It meanders from topic to topic, hovering between feelings of hope and hopelessness, before ending with a comically awkward “haha.”

“I actually wrote that by imagining how I wanted to organize my Instagram page,” he explains. “I was thinking of creating an Instagram, then I realized that, well, I’m not really a picture kind of guy, I’m not really a travelling kind of guy… I kind of studied who I am first, and I [asked myself], ‘What’s something that I can really portray in an intimate way?’ and it turned out to be writing.”

“I started to brainstorm what kind of topics I could write about, and then from there on, I started to write a little each and every night, and that turned into Late Night Scribbling,” he continues. “That kind of gave me courage to start Instagram in the first place, that piece of writing.”

Two weeks later, he followed it up with “Black Socks,” a whimsical ode to, well, black socks — complete with accompanying photos of him wearing said socks. Immediately, it feels more confident and cohesive than its predecessor. Using the neat and tidy look of black socks as a metaphor, he describes his own mindset for living life: “Pleasure from perfect alignment; That also goes for my ability to be parallel with my thoughts and actions; I try to live out what’s in my mind, and keep it consistent even when forgotten like a working habit.”

Comments on the posts praise his writing and encourage him to continue sharing these small pieces of himself. On the stage, Mark takes on a confident, larger-than-life persona, while in vlogs and spoken interviews, he’s a bubbly character full of laughter and boyish charm. What the poems show is that, beneath these outer appearances, there’s another layer of complexity that is yet to be fully explored, and it’s not surprising that fans want to know more.

His day job as a K-pop idol doesn’t allow a lot of time for hobbies, though, and he confesses to not having written much lately. Despite that, he’s determined to stay in the industry for as long as possible. “Longevity is something that I’ve always been aiming for,” he says. “I’m willing to do this for a long time, and that requires a lot of work. I’m willing to take that as a challenge and I’m trying to stay as long as I can, but with quality.”

That focus on quality informs his preparations for the upcoming promotions with NCT Dream. In both their fictional world and ours, NCT Dream are a central component of NCT by virtue of their unique focus on growth — the seven members were aged between 14 and 17 when the group first debuted in 2016. Fast-forward five years, and the members are now 19 to 21, having reached a milestone in January when the youngest, Jisung, finally became a legal adult in Korea. When asked if he feels like an adult yet, though, Mark gives an extremely relatable answer with zero hesitation.

“I still feel like I’m in middle school, I’m gonna be totally honest. I swear to God, I feel like I’m… All right, I’ll put it up — I feel like I’m in high school!” He laughs. “I even had this talk with Jisung, ‘cos he’s the latest that turned into an adult. He said that he still feels like he’s a student, he doesn’t feel like he’s 20 [19 in international age] right now.”

It’s been a long time since all seven Dream members — Mark, Renjun, Jeno, Haechan, Jaemin, Chenle, and Jisung — have released an album together, and as the first full-length album since their debut, the fan anticipation is palpably intense. Mark himself has mentioned in various vlogs how important he believes this comeback to be, and that conviction becomes obvious whenever he talks about it.

“We had a talk all together, the seven of us, without any cameras or anything. I brought all the guys together and we talked before the whole momentum started, and I said that I’m willing to put my everything on this one. Like, I always had, but I feel like… the whole universe, or like— ” He pauses, trying to figure out how to articulate himself, and his next line is the most emphatic of our whole conversation. “There are things that are out of our control, but we can see and feel when the pieces match together sometimes, and I feel like this specific moment, this particular album, kind of had those essential parts.”

He’s thinking about all of the context surrounding this comeback: the group’s coming of age, the reunion of all seven members, the scale of the album, the fact that Jisung has only just recovered from a leg injury that meant he couldn’t dance for months — even the fact that 2020 was, against all odds, the best year yet for NCT, with release after release bringing them unprecedented success and momentum.

“I felt that coming and I explained all of that [to the group],” he continues. “This whole period of time has a lot of meaning to it, and we’re not taking that for granted, we’re working hard.” With everything that’s happened, Hot Sauce is a historic moment for NCT Dream, and that’s been reflected in their numbers — the album clocked over 1.7 million pre-orders, obliterating their previous record of 500,000 for last year’s EP, Reload.

Their familial bond and the success that has come with it is the culmination of years spent living, working, and growing up together. The members have collectively missed out on key experiences that most teenagers might take for granted, distanced as they are from normal life, and the group also benefits from an unusually loose adherence to traditional Korean age hierarchy. The result is a brotherhood that goes beyond just being colleagues. “What we have is pretty intimate, and it’s also genuine,” Mark says.

About his role, he is matter of fact. “I’m by far the most easily approachable punching bag for the team. I am not… complaining…” He laughs. “But all jokes aside, I feel like my role for this team… Yes, I am the oldest and I am the leader but I’m also… In Korea, in the culture, age is very important, but we’ve come so far that all those borders kind of just vanished and we’re all pretty much friends, and I guess I’m just a friend of theirs too.”

It’s true that, despite being the leader, his friendly personality and endearingly awkward mannerisms mean that he commands about as much authority as a small puppy. Instead, much like a puppy, he is showered with love and affection (fellow member Chenle refers to Mark as his son and his actual puppy Daegal as Mark’s little sister), but that doesn’t mean he isn’t a dependable leader figure. The opposite is true — in Renjun’s words, Mark’s presence unites the group in a way that makes him irreplaceable.

And while this may be the fifth year since their debut, in the grand scheme of things, the members of NCT Dream are still very, very young — by most standards, they would still be considered to have their entire careers ahead of them. Growth has brought them here, but where does Mark think it will take them in the future?

“Growing just never stops for us, I can see us growing continuously, endlessly,” he replies. “What the future holds is something that we will never know, but we always do try to prepare during the present, and so with whatever time we have currently and with whatever album, or whatever stage, or whatever piece of music it may be, we’re willing to make sure that we have the next one coming too.”

A final thought. “I’m glad that we’re striving for that, ‘cos we started off as…” Mark shakes his head, “…as babies.”

#nct #nct dream #Mark #nct 127

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slytherinsnekxvii · 4 years ago

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let's talk about severus snape. he's one of the most controversial characters the internet has to offer, with several blogs, channels and pages dedicated specifically to hating him, despite him having one of the most—if not the most—intriguing character arcs the series has to offer. so, as a result of me coming across far too many of said blogs, channels or pages, here's an extremely detailed explanation of why i like him and think he's easily one of my favourite characters :)

1. he's not that bad of a teacher.

just so you know, i'm a teenage girl fresh out of high school. so, my experience with teachers? still keeps me up at night :)

my family is pretty strict about religion. you can guess what that means. anything that was magic-adjacent, especially something that, god forbid, had an entire school dedicated to witchcraft and wizardry was a hard no if i wanted to have any sort of freedom over the media i paid attention to, and any opportunity to go about my life without being monitored to make sure i wasn't suddenly possessed or something. thanks to this, i ended up secretly reading the philosopher's stone in my last year of primary school. i would've been 11 at the time, just about to turn 12, so a little bit older than harry and co. going on what i'd heard from those who had already read the series, i went in expecting to absolutely despise this man. i went in expecting to read a demon. i finished the book and came out thinking... that really wasn't that bad.

my mom found out, so i didn't get to read the rest of the series until i ended up on the executive committee for my school's book club and my friends were appalled that i'd only read the first book. at this point, i'm still expecting him to get worse and... he just doesn't. when i was in primary school, i had multiple teachers break wooden meter-long rulers across my classmates' backs. the first time it happened, i was in infant year 2 (about 6/7 years old). i had teachers who would insult us, based on anything from hygiene to behaviour to intelligence if you looked at them wrong. my sister (who was three years ahead of me) had a teacher who kept her in hours after school was over because the teacher had a written a note in her workbook upside down, and when my sister corrected her, the teacher made her rewrite it, turning the book each time the note was written so it would never be done the correct way.

in secondary school, i had teachers who would actively humiliate us in front of the class if we didn't do as well as they wanted. i had teachers who would throw markers and whiteboard erasers at us if we did something they didn't like during class. i had a teacher who looked for a friend of mine who was petrified of attention and then mercilessly picked on her until she went to the bathrooms to cry. these are the kinds of teachers that i was used to. so, when i read harry potter and read snape, who would have probably been one of the nicer teachers i met in my lifetime, i thought to myself, he's really not that bad. he's just... strict.

antis claim that he traumatised every kid that ever went through his class, that he straight up abused them and... no. he didn't. all of them are comfortable talking back, they talk during his class, no one trembles when he walks past, except for neville, who usually bore the brunt of snape's anger because he was consistently messing up in a potentially lethal class.

after school, i hated the thought of formal education, so now i'm working until i feel ready to do university. coincidentally, one of my jobs is teaching maths and english to kids writing the end of primary and secondary school exams. given the sheer amount of annoyance i feel sometimes, i actually respect him for not being more harsh with them, especially when they're all running off into danger or exploding cauldrons.

he really isn't that bad of a teacher, and we know this, since his classes' owl results are said to be consistently good.

plus, he was written in the 90's when all this was okay behaviour for teachers. hell, compared to some of the teachers in text, given that he goes out of his way to make sure the students are always protected, he's a lot better than most people give him credit for.

2. i relate to him.

come on, the man grew up to be a dramatic, queer-coded, petty bitch who wears all black all the time and likely has at least one mental disorder. i'm a petty, emo bisexual with (actually diagnosed, don't worry) depression and anxiety and I'm in a theatre group. what did you really expect from me?

on a serious note, both of the schools i went to were considered "prestigious". i got into my primary school because of a teacher's recommendation (she was a family friend). the second school i got into was because i scored ridiculously high on the placement test that would determine which school i went to. in primary school, i was the poor, really awkward, really smart kid who got left out of everything, and my best friend was the only kid who was worse off than me.

in secondary school, i was just as smart as everyone else... but i was still poorer, and still more awkward and still got left out of everything.

i got that isolated feeling, that feeling of not being good enough, that feeling where life always seems to have it out for you and that's even though i still got dealt a better hand than snape ever did. so, i get it. i'm never ever going to have it as bad as he did, but i acknowledge what he went through and i sympathise, because i have a chance, but it only ever got worse for him.

3. i genuinely enjoy his character.

this dude went through absolute hell for basically his entire life. the best years he had were probably when he was neck-deep in the group of people who hated witches and wizards like him, but somehow managed to treat him better than the good guys.

all of that, and he still manages to be one of the most entertaining motherfuckers in the whole series, with one of the most interesting character arcs ever. it's the witty lines, the sheer dynamic of his character, the change from the twitchy, hypervigilant kid from the slums to the adult that managed to spy on the Dark Lord himself and save the wizarding world in the process, while still being a hot mess of a person. it's the managing to get shit done while everybody hated him and everything was going to hell. it's the everything, and i haven't even talked about how badass he is.

come on, potions prodigy turned master, exemplary duellist (cough, cough, winning 4-on-1 vs McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and Slughorn, and leaving a scratch on nobody, while managing to not take a single hit himself, cough, cough), spellcrafter, spy and one of the only wizards to ever figure out unaided flight. dark arts master, proficient at healing (dumbledore would've been dead a lot sooner, if it weren't for him, most likely). he's one of the most powerful wizards of his time. i've said that any universe where he's actually a bad guy—or just legitimately loyal to the death eaters—is a universe where voldemort wins and this is why. if he was motivated by literally anything other than lily, the wizarding world was more than likely fucked.

the point is, i just think he's neat.

4. spite.

every time i appreciate snape, a snater feels like someone is walking over their grave. every time i appreciate snape, a snater turns blue out of sheer rage. every time i appreciate snape, a snater loses their mind looking for their non-existent reading comprehension.

the spite in my veins is tempered only by the broth of instant ramen and ungodly amounts of sugar, and i'm going to use them all in my mission to cause antis pain when they refuse to acknowledge their lack of critical thinking and analysis skills.

so, yeah. why do i actually like snape?

tl;dr: he's not that bad. for a teacher written in the 90's and compared to teachers i've had within the decade, the guy's just strict. sure, he's a dick (who i personally think is hilarious), but he always makes sure the students are safe and he didn't leave any lasting effect on any of the students. he's really not that bad of a teacher. and hell, he's not even that bad of a person. i fully admit that he was an asshole and i entirely believe he was prone to self-destructive behaviour, but he still tried to atone for his mistakes and he did, is the thing, even though the odds were stacked more or less completely against him. i like him because he entertains me, and because i relate to him, as a teen who went through some shit and probably would have joined up with some bad people if it weren't for my friends and family, and as a teacher who really can't stand my students sometimes. i also like him because it irritates people who don't like him :)

also, istg if any of you respond to this with "bUt hE was ObseSsED with LiLY and just WAnTEd to FUCK hEr," i'm crawling into your bedroom window with the most unrealistic, mangled interpretations of your favourite characters and making sure they haunt you in your dreams. meet me in the fuckin' pit, babe. reread the series, actually think about it and come with receipts that aren't Voldemort, because i don't think you want to have the same opinion as the character who canonically doesn't understand love, now, do you, sweetheart? when you do that, then, and only then, will i consider entertaining your bullshit :)

that's about it from me, thanks for reading!

#severus snape #pro snape #why do people like snape?#i can't speak for anybody else but here's me #i probably left something out since i haven't written a good essay since my literature exam #but it's fine #let me like my chaotic bastard son in peace please #snape #snapedom

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crystaljins · 4 years ago

Text

River lead me home | 09 FINAL

Characters: Kim Seokjin x reader

Word count: 5k

Synopsis: Ever since coming to the human realm when you were child, nothing seems to fit, and this was just supposed to be a simple roadtrip to help you find yourself.

Is that too much to ask for?

Spin-off to A long journey home

Rating: Teens

Genre: Adventure, fluff, angst

Notes: Ahhh. We’re finally here. At the ending.

I feel like so much happened since I started writing this fic. I’ve been through so many ups and downs, and so have my characters. And you guys are probably the same; I wonder what adventures you guys went on as I posted this? I hope they were fun ones.

Anyway, thank you for sticking around for this long journey home. I hope you enjoy the final chapter, and I hope you enjoyed following these guys on their adventure.

Till next time, my loves.

Tags: @blue1928 @veeparkersstuff

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 FINAL

It’s a long journey home. The three of you stay with the mice long enough to see the first of the recovered victims poke their little noses out of their burrows. The mayor, a harried, round little mouse with hay coloured fur and absurdly long whiskers, cannot express his gratitude deeply enough, other than to procure the three of you a comfortable stay in a nearby inn.

The journey back is only slightly less fraught with danger. The Saishtas think the two of you are dead, and not long after you part ways with the mice, new begins to circulate in the local areas that the might, evil Saishta queen has died and that her kingdom has fallen into disarray. You come across one or two of the insidious lizardpeoples after that but none of them approach or acknowledge you. Why bother, when they failed to save their queen?

After hearing that news, it’s more of a relaxed journey. You all head on from town to town, purchasing supplies and another bed roll for Jungkook. Jin is strangely eager to spend what little currency you have on the most comfortable bedroll he can find, and when Jungkook suggests he just continues to share in the interest of saving funds, Jin nearly has an aneurysm.

Jin’s behaviour is probably the strangest part of the journey. He’s not cold or standoffish like he normally is when having a crisis, but he’s definitely gentler. More reserved but also warmer. It’s not unwelcome. In fact, you can’t help but wonder. If the war had never come, would this be the life you had with Jin? Endless adventures amongst the thrilling dangers of your home realm?

You bring the thought up to Jin and Jungkook one night, while the three of you huddle together over a fire, snacking on some of the dried meats you’d purchased from the last town.

Jin looks surprised at the thought.

“I’ve always thought it would be you and Taehyung going on the big adventures.” He points out. “The two of you were never able to hold still, even for a moment.” His smile is warm and fond as he recalls your childhood.

“You’d have been dragged along.” Jungkook counters through a particularly chewy mouthful. “You’d probably be married to (Y/N) and forced to follow her around keep her out of trouble.”

Oddly, you expect Jin to flush, or protest, or attempt to strangle Jungkook. You certainly feel a bit flushed at the thought. But Jin is unfazed- he merely offers a secretive smile and tilts his head curiously at you. You couldn’t decipher the look if you tried, but it has your throat feeling tight.

You change the conversation topic after that, but it’s not the only way that Jin has changed. A few days later, the three of you are attempting to cross a little slippery creek when you lose your footing.

You stumble over a few rocks and land on your hands and knees. Even in the deepest part of the creek it only comes up to your mid-thighs when you are on all fours.

Jin skids to a stop beside you, crouching before you in the water. He doesn’t seem to care about the way his clothes become soaked.

“Are you hurt?” He demands. You take stock of your injuries- a scraped knee, a bruised shin, the palms of your hands rubbed raw. Nothing that won’t be gone in an hour or two.

“I’m fine.” You reassure him.

He nods awkwardly for a moment and then offers “I could kiss it better?”

It takes you a few blinks to comprehend his words, and even then, it makes you re-evaluate the severity of your injuries.

“What?” You demand, shocked. He shrugs and looks away.

“Like when we were kids. I could kiss it better. You used to always refuse to stop crying until I kissed you. We could try that again.” He offers nonchalantly. You must have hit your head. It’s the only explanation. You can only stare, your mouth dropped into an “o”.

“I guess that’s a no.” Jin finally says, oddly sulky in the way he says it. “Just thought I’d offer.”

You wish you could say that it’s the strangest of his behaviour, but it’s not. The rest of the journey goes like that- if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think Jin was flirting. Albeit, in a weirdly awkward, tentative way. Even Jungkook notices it.

“Do you think he’s finally gone mad? Maybe the extreme social media detox has made all his brain cells shrivel up and die.” Jungkook whispers conspiratorially one night while the two of you wonder a small village that is throwing a little festival. Colourful lanterns line the streets and the various creatures that inhabit the village are dressed in bright colours. Jin had decided to stay back at the inn but the two of you had wanted to explore.

“It’s the only logical explanation.” You concede, as much as it physically pains you to agree with Jungkook in anything.

“All I have to say is, if this is how he flirts I have no idea how he gets so many dates.” Jungkook laments, and your eyes widen.

“Stop.” You laugh. “He’s not flirting. It’s Jin. He thinks of me like an unwanted houseplant.”

“What if he didn’t, though?” Jungkook asks suddenly. His gaze is probing, and the mood is oddly serious for what you thought was a joking conversation.

“What?” You ask, caught off-guard.

“What if he’s actually flirting? Hypothetically. What would you do?” He questions.

You go silent, as you contemplate your answer. Honestly, you’re not stupid enough to entertain the thought of Jin liking you back. But something about Jungkook’s earnestness has you genuinely considering it.

“I don’t know.” You finally admit. You sigh, suddenly feeling tired.

“Can I ask you something?” Jungkook asks, tentative and almost gentle. He tilts his head curiously. “Do you like him?”

The question startles you. It feels like it’s been so long since you came to term with your feelings that you forgot not everyone else was aware of your revelation. Honestly, even to yourself it had filtered to the back of your mind. An unchanging fact, rarely acknowledged. The sky is blue. Jungkook is annoying. You are in love with Kim Seokjin.

“I do.” You finally admit. You’re reaching the end of the street where most of the festivities are taking place- the crowd is thinning and more distance separates each lantern.

“Then, if he were flirting... wouldn’t the answer be that you’d date him?” Jungkook asks. He’s pulling a face like he’s working out a rather complex maths problem. “Why don’t you know what you’d do?”

The two of you settle at the end of the street. Roughly hewn chairs are scattered randomly across the little square. In the corner, a large, greyish being snoozes, and a small group of little humanoid trees laugh over something and chatter in a foreign language.

“I feel like there’s too much to sort out first. Like... to date him I’d have to be better. I’d have to have a job. And I’d have to have apologised to my mother. I’d need to stop spongeing off the people around me. And maybe live out of home. Be a proper, human adult.” You list. “The me that I am now... I couldn’t date Jin. I’m not... I’m not...”

“Good enough?” Jungkook finishes the words gently. There’s a sad look in his eyes, and it surprises you.

You nod.

“Yeah.” You admit, and your voice is oddly choked. It’s weird- you had thought you were at peace with your feelings. You were meant to be happy with whatever scraps of affection Jin threw your way. But you’re not- there’s a deep, miserable ache in your chest that won’t go away.

Jungkook uses his sleeves to dab at the tears you didn’t even know were slipping down your cheeks.

“For what it’s worth,” Jungkook offers. “Jin doesn’t actually care about that stuff. The only reason he makes a big deal out of it is because he thinks you’ll be happy if all that stuff works out.” He tells you. “And hey. Someone once told me that the best things are the scariest to start- maybe this is one of those times?”

After that, you call it a night, and Jungkook doesn’t bring the topic up again. But you can’t forget his words. The closer to the portal the three of you draw, the more the ache in your chest grows; the closer you get to going back to normal life. What happens to you and Jin when you step back into the human realm?

What if Jungkook’s words are true? Would you... would you have to return to normal? Could you have more? Is it stupid that a part of your stupid, traitorous heart longed for it to be true with each new step towards home?

There’s a surefire way to find out; if you ask him. But you can’t. The words die in your throat every time you even consider it. You remember how he freaked out when Jungkook suggested it earlier on the trip. He likely already knows your feelings despite your denial, and it is only your constant denial otherwise that allows the two of you to exist in this strange limbo. If you stopped denying them, he’d have to address those feelings and then what? It would be back to square one- the avoidance and awkwardness as you cling to the shambles of your friendship.

You can’t go back to that- you’ve fought so hard to fix what is between you, to salvage things. Would it be worth risking it, just in the hopes that you and Jin could be more?

The night before you reach the portal, all the nerves and worries you have build up to the point that you find yourself gazing up listlessly at the canopy overhead. The branches interlace and you can perk glimpses of the stars beyond. This is the last glimpse you will get of these stars. You have already decided you won’t come back here. It’s time to stop looking back and only look forward.

Yet, despite your resolve, despite everything, sleep evades you. Tomorrow, real life awaits. An existential sort of dread has gripped you.

With a sigh, you sit up. To your right, Jungkook has curled into a tight ball as he peacefully rests. But to your surprise, Jin’s bedroll is empty. You’re surprised you didn’t hear him move.

It doesn’t take long to locate him. Only a short distance away, where the vegetation is a bit lighter and a clear patch of sky shimmers overhead, Jin lounges peacefully. He gazes thoughtfully up at the sky overhead as the starlight gilds his face in breathtaking silver.

Wordlessly, you step towards him. A twig snaps beneath your feet and Jin whirls around in surprise. When he spots you, he smiles and gentle pats the open space beside him.

Awkwardly, you settle beside him, hugging your knees to your chest.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He questions, his eyes closed serenely. The soft sound of wind and distant sounds of wildlife filters through the night air.

“Yeah,” you admit, your voice heavy with a sigh. He blinks open one eye to peer curiously at you. It’s the most relaxed and open you’ve seen him in a long time. “What about you? You couldn’t sleep either?”

Jin shrugs.

“I could have.” He informs you. “But I thought I’d enjoy my last night in this realm instead.”

You raise an eyebrow at that. Jin has made it clear throughout the trip that this journey has been anything but enjoyable.

“Enjoy?” You say, only slightly incredulous. He nods and opens both eyes to stare up the sky.

“I’m as shocked as you.” He concedes. “This place has only ever meant bad things to me. It’s why I could never understand your fixation with it.”

You grimace.

“I kind of get it now, though.” He admits, before you can complain to him. “It’s a pretty beautiful place.”

“What changed your mind?” You ask, your curiosity piqued. Jin shrugs.

“You did.” He answers simply.

“M-me?” You’re not sure why you stutter; perhaps it is the strange look to his eyes as he turns fully to face you. He pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his cheek against them, watching you lazily.

“Yup.” He says, as if it’s the easiest confession in the world. “When I used to think about this place, all I could think about was the night we fled. My dad didn’t even time to wash the blood off his hands. He grabbed me by the wrist and held on so tight I had bruises. I didn’t want to remember that. I didn’t want to remember the place that had caused us so much pain. And you... you were such a shell. I felt like one of my best friends had died in this realm and I was so angry at what it had taken from me.” His gaze is distant with recollection. “And then I was mad at you, because you couldn’t forget no matter what I did.” He gazes at you. “But now it’s finally given me something.”

You’re startled, by his heartfelt words. You’ve always known Jin hated this realm, hated the way the beings of this realm had driven you all out. But you didn’t know you had such a huge role in his opinion of it. “You.” He finishes. “So I guess I can’t really hate this place after all.”

You’re struck speechless in that moment, and your heart swells with an overwhelming feeling. You already know you love the man before you, but in that moment, you’re shocked at just how much. A feeling bubbles up at the base of your chest- your heart feels fit to burst.

“What do you mean?” You ask- is this feeling hope? What does Jin mean, when he says the realm gave him you?

Jin merely shrugs.

“I’ll let you speculate.” He tells you, shooting you a coy smile, an oddly cheeky look that he’s given to his friends before but never to you. But then his expression shifts into something more serious. “I think there are more pressing things to discuss first, though. Like why you’re sitting here with me instead of sleeping?”

The warm feeling from earlier instantly evaporates as you recall the reason for your melancholy.

“I guess I’m just nervous.” You confess. “About going home. I’ve... I’ve really enjoyed this trip. And I’m excited to go home. But I’m just so...” you struggle to find the word. “So...”

“Nervous?” Jin suggests. He shuffles so he’s just a bit closer. His shoulder brushes yours- if you extended your neck, you could rest your head against his broad shoulders. A strange electricity buzzes through your body at the thought- it reminds you of your fight over the fungus a few days ago. The air had felt strangely charged then as well.

“Yeah.” You admit, swallowing past a dry throat. “There’s a lot to do, back home.”

“Back home?” Jin echoes, and then his smile turns warm. His mouth carefully forms the word “home” and his eyes wrinkle into two joyous crescent moon shapes. “I guess there is.” He acknowledges. “But you’ve already made the first step. You’re calling the human realm home.”

That startles you. Obviously, it is your home. But you hadn’t realised how instinctive that had become until this moment; at some point the human realm had stopped being that uncomfortable alien place, and had become the place you’re meant to go back to. Home. Jin watches you process the words carefully before he speaks again.

“You don’t have to be nervous.” He tells you softly. The tone to his voice is oddly vulnerable and delicate. Something delicate hovers between you like the flutter of a pixie’s wing. “You said you wanted to work things out together, right? So, you don’t have to be nervous because I’ll be there with you.”

He looks away and his expression is surprisingly shy. “I know you said I don’t have to be the guy with it all worked out, but I still want to try. It makes me happy. Being there for you. So even if you’re nervous... we’ll work it out together, right?”

It is that exact moment that you figure it out. Earlier, you had been uneasy at Jungkook’s line of questioning. You didn’t feel worthy of Jin’s love and affection, and that made you afraid. Because you couldn’t bear to lose him. You still can’t bear to lose him. But gazing into the warm eyes before you, you know you won’t ever lose him. The two of you have braved death together- you’ll make it through anything.

You feel lighter then, and you offer Jin a smile.

“Thank you.” You whisper. Jin smiles back.

“Any time.” He whispers back to you in answer.

Sleep comes easily after that, and so too does the end of your journey. All too soon you stand before the portal back home.

The trip feels like it’s taken a thousand years and no time at all at the same time. By your calculation, the entire journey has taken almost a month, with all the detours and misadventures. That means almost six hours have passed in the human realm. Jin has almost definitely missed his dinner plans, and your mother is probably starting to wonder why you aren’t home yet.

“What will you do, when you go back?” Jin asks. Jungkook has already stepped through and you’re surprised that Jin is making conversation now, of all times.

“Apologise to my mother.” You say easily. “What about you?”

“I’m going to save my snapchat streaks and apologise to Joon.” Jin shares. He’s nervously twisting his fingers together. The energy he gives off is like an uneasy teenager about to do a huge public speech. It’s a big contrast from the person her was last night. Like he’s bracing himself for something.

You thought you’d be bracing yourself too. On the other side is hard work and futile dreams and a bleary, dull city.

But on the other side is your mother, your friends, your family. Your evil cat waits for you on the other side; the life your father dreamed of for you is on the other side. You had thought that so much in your life is wrong, and now that the portal is here, you realise that it’s not. It’s just life. Things go wrong and things go right. Like the path of a river, cutting through the vast, unknown wilderness. You had been thinking of it this whole time like you’d flip a switch and things would be easy. But that’s not what it’s going to be like on the other side of this portal, and it’s not really what you want things to be like. It’s an adventure of a different kind.

And it’s an adventure that you want to share... with Jin.

You remember what Jungkook had said- the best things in life are the scariest to start. And you’re scared now. No, you’re terrified. But if you’re this scared, then you know that this moment is going to be huge. Life-changing. You can’t keep the words in a moment longer. You don’t want to. You’ve spent too long running and fearing and hesitating and overthinking. But you’re confident, that the two of you will survive this even if he doesn’t feel the same way, and you’re ready to take that risk.

The river loves those who take the plunge.

“Jin,” you call, and you thought that if you ever did this that you’d be lost for words. But you’re not. Because you’re finally ready. Last night had solidified that for you. The words come easily. “You remember how you said that I look at you a certain way?”

You turn and face him, and he looks bewildered.

“Like you’re my hero.” You recall. And then you steel yourself and meet his gaze. It’s the same eyes you’ve known all your life. The same eyes you want to look into for the remainder of your life. “It’s because you are my hero. No, actually, it’s more than that.” You assert, and he just stares, completely dumbstruck. “I look at you like that because I love you. Because I admire you and think you’re strong and brave and kind, and even if you’re not the guy who has it all together, I still feel the same way. And I lied when I said I just wanted you to be my friend. I thought it was enough, but it’s not- I want to be your partner. I want to be your best friend. I want to be your girlfriend.” You say. And then you summon all the exciting fluttering feels in your chest and let it pour into your smile. “I love you, Kim Seokjin.”

Before you stands something you never thought you’d see. Kim Seokjin, the mastermind behind the Jant, is completely speechless. And then slowly, very slowly, he opens his mouth to give a response.

“Are you dead?” Jungkook demands as the upper half of his body appears once more through the portal. “It’s been like 30 seconds in that realm which is approximately ten years in this realm if my maths is correct!”

You spring back from Jin. You’re startled at how far you have to step back- had you really been standing that close?

“R-right.” You stutter. You feel like you’ve been caught cheating on a diet or something equally scandalous. “We’re coming.”

Jin just looks annoyed.

“No we’re not. Give us a minute.” He snaps at Jungkook, placing a palm against Jungkook’s head and shoving him back through the portal none-too-gently. He then turns urgently back to you. “What did you just say?” He demands. His intensity has you cowering slightly- your bravado from earlier leaves you.

“I said “we’re coming”?” You recall, attempting to divert the topic, but Jin steps closer.

“No you didn’t. You said you love me. And that you want to be my girlfriend.” He accuses.

“If you knew, why did you ask me?” You grumble. And then your expression softens. “But yes. I did say that. And it’s ok if you don’t feel the same. I know you could have any girl you want and I won’t be mad if you want someone else.” You reassure him quickly. He just stares, offering you no indication of whether he’d processed your words. It’s uncomfortable, but you suppose your words were going to be uncomfortable. You’re changing the very nature of your relationship by voicing them aloud. “But if you were willing... maybe you could give me a chance?” You trail away.

Still, Jin just continues to look at you blankly. He looks like he’s a robot that just encountered a programming error. Hesitantly, you reach out to tap his shoulder, just to make sure he hasn’t died or suddenly been transformed into stone.

A hand shoots up. It grabs your wrist, halting its movements. Jin’s eyes bug out of his head.

“YOU’RE TELLING ME NOW?” He all but screeches. You flinch- you hadn’t anticipated a jant in response to your confession. “YOU HAD THE WHOLE TRIP TO SAY YOUR FEELINGS AND YOU SAY IT NOW? YOU COULDN’T HAVE WAITED ONE DAY?”

His nostrils flare as he releases your wrist so that he can point accusingly at you.

“You had all your chances! You could have said it on the way to the forest spirit! Or when the Saishtas were chasing us! Or when we landed in the ravine! You’ve had literally the whole trip and you wait until right before I’m going to confess?” He spits out in that rapid-fire way that you’ve never seen another person be able to replicate.

And then you process his words.

“Wait-“ you say, hoping to abort the jant so that you have enough time to comprehend what he’s saying.

It’s no use.

“Seriously! I had a whole plan, (Y/N)! We were going to go to dinner and I was going to buy you flowers and I was going to ease you into it! But no! You just had to beat me to it, and for what? For what? So that you can make a half-assed confession right before we step into an alley next to a brothel?” He laments.

“It’s not half-assed-“ you protest, because you’d poured your heart out to Jin.

He steps in menacingly.

“Take it back.” He demands. Your eyes widen.

“What?” You cry, defensively. To your credit, you only cower a little which is an impressive feat for someone on the receiving end of a jant.

“Your confession! Take it back!” He orders.

“No!” You argue back. “I’m not going to do that.”

“You are!” Jin counters. “You’re going to take it back and we’re going to do it properly, over dinner, and you’re going to have washed hair and I’m going to-“

You don’t let him finish whatever stupid thoughts were filtering through his brain. If he wants a proper, romantic confession, then he’s going to get one! You hear a sharp intake of breath from him as your lips press to his. They’re slightly chapped after such a long period of rough travel, but the sensation is still pleasant. Your heart thuds in your chest and you feel like you’re about to burst.

It takes Jin a moment to respond. But when he does, it’s with an intensity that is almost frightening. You’re startled by the way he pulls you close. It’s like the electricity from last night, but multiplied a hundred-fold. If you thought your heart was ready to burst before, it is nothing compared to the way molten lava fills your chest when his hands come up to gently cradle your face and deepen the kiss.

When you finally recall that oxygen is something you need, Jin pulls away and searches your gaze. His hands slide down to your waist, resting delicately along the flare of your hips. His face is bright red but his eyes are determined.

Something about the way he is looking at you has you feeling shy.

“That was weird, huh?” You stammer, trying to cover the way you feel so completely overwhelmed. “Sorry.” Your heart is dancing in your chest. It’s all too much for one person to feel and you’re just not really sure what to do with the sensation. Did he feel it too? This weird tension, like you’re a balloon about to pop?

Jin doesn’t break eye contact and his tongue darts out to moisten his lips.

“Hard to say.” He finally says, breaking his long spell of silence. He then grabs at either side of your face, puckering his lips obnoxiously. “I think we need to try again to be sure.”

You barely have time to protest before he’s attempting to pull you in for a second kiss, although you slap a hand over his mouth to halt his advance.

“Wait!” You accuse. “You can’t just kiss me and not respond to what I said!”

“I already told you.” He snaps. “Your confession doesn’t count until we do it properly. Now if you excuse me-“ He grabs you by the elbows and tugs you back towards him, attempting to kiss you once more, but you stop him with a hand pressed to his chest. His expression turns pleading. “Just one more time.” He requests.

You swallow, and gaze into his eyes. It’s not an unfamiliar look, you realise. He’s looked at you like this before, but you now realise what the emotion was behind that look.

“I love you.” You tell him. “I told you like this because yes. I couldn’t wait one more day. I don’t want to wait another day without you knowing. I love you.” You say one more time, just for good measure.

His expression crumbles and he sighs in resignation, before pulling you tightly against him. His embrace is warm, and secure. It’s no different from all the other times he’s hugged you in your life, and yet nothing is the same.

“Fine.” He says, into the crook of your neck. “But I’m not saying it back until we have a proper date.”

He pulls out of the hug and the love in his gaze is overwhelming. It’s not a confession, per se, but his intent is as clear as day.

He loves you. You know he does.

“Deal.” You say back, and his response is his eyes crinkling up as he offers you that special smile, the one that he only shows when he’s really, truly happy. “But you’re paying.”

“How about we save any important conversations for the side of the portal where we’re not in constant mortal danger?” Jungkook demands, his head once more poking through the portal. There’s an awkward silence as he glances between the two of you, and then he groans. “Seriously? You had the entire journey to sort this out and you waited until now? You couldn’t even just leave it until after dinner?”

“Sorry!” You apologise quickly, going to follow Jungkook’s lead through the portal. But a hand wrapped around your wrist stops you- you hadn’t even noticed Jin had grabbed you.

You turn to gaze questioningly at him, and he shrugs, shifting his hands until he can interlace his fingers with yours.

“Wait. Let’s go together.” He requests, then pauses. “Can we?”

Something about this moment feels monumental. Huge. You’ve braved enemy encampments, crossed mountains. You’ve gone free-falling into giant ravines and overcome furious forest spirits.

And yet this moment feels like the start to your biggest adventure yet. From this point on, real life starts. You smile at Jin and he returns it.

“Yeah.” You say. “Let’s go together.”

Jin’s reply is covered by Jungkook’s annoyed call through the portal:

“What did I just say? Hurry up!”

~Fin~

#castlebangtan #thebtswritersclub #kim seokjin x reader #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #writing

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amintyworld · 4 years ago

Text

Mentors - Dream SMP Hunger Games AU

A/N: So this started as a one page drabble, then it turned into a six page fic. Oopsies! Anyway this is meant to be a sort of prequel to ‘The Victor’ drabble I submitted over at @dreamsmp-au-ideas, but can be read as stand-alone. Anyway, I wrote this in the span of an entire DAY because I have no self-control when it comes to writing and this AU has sparked some Middle School nostalgia in me. Anyway, hope you enjoy and please check out the blog where the AU idea came from, they’ve given me a LOT of inspiration for fics to write. -Minty

TW: Talk/mention of death, fighting, depression/loss, threats of death, slight insanity. (Tell me if I need to tag anything else!)

Summary: Tommy’s an angry orphan, Wilbur grows a soft spot for Tommy, Sam is the only braincell left in District 7, Tubbo has Dadschlatt and needs a lot of hugs, Phil earned the achievement ‘Oh no Feelings’.

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

Tubbo intertwined his fingers as he walked with the guards toward the white porcelain-like door. The shock of his name getting pulled hadn’t exactly faded yet, and the dread of the logical conclusion he’d drawn up in his head did not exactly help matters. He knew he was dead - he’d never trained for combat, he wasn’t agile or fast, he knew next to nothing about surviving in the wilderness, or even whatever the Gamemaker threw at him for that matter. His fate was completely sealed the moment that boy with devil horns picked his name out of the bowl.

He took a breath, his hand on the door handle. Time to say goodbye.

As soon as he shut the door, he could feel his father’s comforting hand on his shoulder. “Hey, kiddo.” His voice was gentle, warm, and kind. Tubbo’s emotions couldn’t help but become unplugged at the voice as tears ran down his cheeks and he clung to his father tightly, afraid to let go. Schlatt wrapped his arms around Tubbo gently, rubbing his back to give him some comfort. “Oh Tubbo, I know kiddo, shhh...”

“I’m so scared, Dad.” Tubbo’s voice wavered as his body shook with sobs, and Schlatt’s heart broke at his son’s voice.

“I know buddy, I know.” Schatt moved so he could brush his hands through his son’s hair. “But… but you don’t have to be. I know you can do it, I know you can win.” A few tears slipped down Schlatt’s cheek. “You’re so much smarter than any of those meatheads in the Capitol, probably in any other District in Panem. You’re so much stronger than you know, kiddo. I know you can do it. Just survive, I know you can outthink any of them, I know you can win. Just survive, win, and I’ll be waiting right here when you come back, okay?”

“And… and we can finally make s’mores?”

Schlatt’s face broke out into a smile through tears. “Yes, yes we can make as many s’mores as you want! We… we’ll… I’ll show you the bee farms, and I promise I’ll be there every single night for dinner, no more late hours at the office. I swear.” Schlatt’s hands squeezed Tubbo’s shoulders. “But you gotta win and come home, okay?”

Tubbo’s eyes blurred with tears as he scanned his father’s face, words dying in his throat, not knowing what to say. “Dad, I-”

Schlatt pulled him down into another hug as the two wept, holding onto each other for dear life, not daring to let go. Then, a soldier appeared in the doorway. “He’s got a train to catch, Mr. Ram.”

Schlatt breathed deeply, pulling away from the hug to run his hand through his son’s hair one last time, taking in his face as he brushed a bit of hair out of his face. “I…” He bit his lip. “I love you, Tubbo. Don’t forget that, okay?”

“I love you too, Dad.” Tubbo gave a quick hug to his father, wrapping his arms around his neck.

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

When Wilbur was assigned as a mentor for District 7, he was more than a little nervous. The other Victors from Victor’s Row assured him he’d do just fine, but still, he was not exactly looking forward to it. He’d met the escort and advisor a few days ago, someone from the Capitol named Sam. For someone from one of the richest districts in Panem, Sam didn’t exactly dress in high fashion - no bright colors or extravagant hairstyles. Instead, he simply wore a clean formal vest and slacks. He gave Wilbur the firmest handshake he’d ever been given in his entire life, and despite the situation seemed almost cheerful.

If he remembered correctly, he was supposed to settle in his personal car on the train and meet Sam in the dining car. Sam seemed to have every detail of their trip planned out perfectly, which Wilbur more than appreciated. He was already dealing with enough as it was having to mentor two kids and try to get them sponsors while basically reliving the worst time in his entire life. Ths screams, the blood… the memories were… they were not good.

They called him insane, unstable. The One Who Went Mad. When he used to panic and whimper and mutter to himself, they used to laugh at him. They thought what he’d been through, the things that he’s seen, and the nightmares that plagued him were nothing more than a funny joke. They loved his pain and suffering. Wilbur didn’t like when they laughed at him like some stupid monkey in a cage. That’s why he preferred to just stay home most of the time. But at this point mentorship was unavoidable, it was under Capitol orders.

It was a bit early before he was due to meet up with Sam in the dining car, and he craved a cup of black coffee. His mind whirred a bit from the familiar fancy train cars, and he needed something to clear his mind from remembering. When he opened the door, however, he didn’t expect to see one of the tributes already here this early. From his blond messy hair and his bright blue eyes, he assumed this was Tommy, the boy. Wilbur held up his hand to show he meant to harm before he moved past the teen sat near the window towards the tea cart, fiddling with the french press. Successfully pouring the pitch-black liquid in a very expensive looking teacup, he cradled it in his hands as he moved to sit across from the teenage boy, still focused on the train station outside the window. “Uh, interesting view?”

Tommy looked over at him for a moment, eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Something like that.”

Wilbur sipped the bitter coffee thoughtfully. He took a breath before speaking. “You know, you’re allowed to say goodbye to your friends and family in the Governor’s office, if one of the Peacekeepers made a mistake I’m sure there’s still time for you to…”

“No.” The teenager’s voice seemed firm, staring out of the window. “They didn’t make a mistake.”

“Uh, well…” Wilbur felt the awkward tension in the room rise. “You are a… bit early, we don’t leave for another half-hour…”

“Well, I didn’t exactly have anywhere else to go. No one to say goodbye to, so I guess they just skipped that part for convenience.” He looked almost angry as he turned back to Wilbur. “Do you mind maybe not staring at me?”

“I’m trying to talk to you.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you.” Tommy snapped. “You shouldn’t just start up a conversation just because you feel bored. I’m not paid to be your fucking entertainment.”

Add this to the number of reasons Wilbur didn’t want to be a mentor - teenagers. This kid certainly had a mouth on him.

Wilbur’s eyes narrowed in anger as he gripped his teacup, trying his best to stay calm. “Well, whether you like it or not, you’re all of Panem’s entertainment now.” Wilbur quipped as he moved to walk away. “So maybe you should learn to be a bit more likable.”

As he began to walk across the car to move toward a table in the corner of the room, he felt a heavy weight on his back as he lost his grip on his cup as it landed on the metal ground of the car with a loud crash, the coffee staining the expensive carpets. He felt punches on his back and head as someone tried to pin him down. Wilbur sighed in frustration. With ease, he jabbed Tommy’s side, putting him off balance, and flipped the kid over, grabbing his arm and pulling it behind his back. Tommy struggled against Wilbur’s grip, angry. He could see tears in the teenager’s eyes as he practically growled at Wilbur. “Take it back you bitch! Get off of me and fight! Take it back or I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” Tommy’s anger slowly disappeared as he began to cry, his body shaking as he sucked in breaths, slowly realizing what exactly he said. “I’ll… I’ll…” Wilbur’s heart couldn’t help but ache at the sight of the poor kid, bringing back memories of that time, that feeling of being trapped.

The door at the other end of the train car flew open, to reveal Sam and the girl tribute from the Reaping, Sarah. “Wilbur, what are you doing?” Sam questioned as Wilbur quickly got off of Tommy, holding out his hand for the teenager to take.

“Uh, right.” As Tommy’s eyes met Wilbur’s the mentor noticed how they scanned across his face, confused at Wilbur’s sudden change from annoyance to kindness. Wilbur smiled slightly. “Let’s save the real fighting for the arena, yeah?” Tommy hesitated before taking Wilbur’s hand as he helped him up, getting even more confused as he quickly wiped off his tear-stained cheeks.

“Sarah Teller and Tommy Innit, meet your Mentor, Wilbur Soot.”

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

Tubbo formally met his other tribute mate, a girl he knew from those fancy business dinners Schlatt would host - he never really talked with her much then, but it was nice to see a familiar face, that was for sure. Her name was Crystal.

They arrived and settled in without much really going on. Their advisor, the one with the devil horns a few hours earlier was their advisor, Bad. They were very confused at first why anyone would name their child that, until Bad insisted it was a nickname for ‘Badboy’… Tubbo couldn’t say he didn’t believe the advisor with some of the fancy and absurd names that seemed so popular in the richer districts. “Now, the best part is that even though you are both chosen as tributes, you’ll be able to see all the Capitol can offer before you’re in the arena. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!”

“I guess it’ll be kind of cool to see the Capitol.” Crystal agreed as she took a sip of a fruitful smelling juice of some kind. Her eyes furrowed as if she was focusing intently on the next words out of her mouth. “I mean, this year economy-wise wasn’t particularly the best for them, seeing as their main exports have been plagued with attacks. It’ll be interesting to see how they fair under unseemly conditions.”

“E...Economy?” Tubbo asked in a silent question to his fellow tribute, whose face flushed in embarrassment.

“My father is the head of exports for District 3. Knowing about stocks and stuff is kind of his thing… then, I guess, it became my thing.” Crystal shrugged, and Tubbo thoughtfully bit into a buttered crust of bread. “I don’t really think that’ll be too helpful in the Games, though.”

“Speaking of the Games, where’s that old man… I told him to meet us here almost an hour ago.” Bad thoughtfully added with a sigh. “He’s going to miss dinner completely if he doesn’t hurry up.”

Almost as if on cue, the car door slid open, and in walked a tall broad blonde-haired man who looked completely mentally checked out. He yawned as he reached over the table to grab an apple and one of Bad’s homemade muffins from the basket. He looked over to the two kids and gave them a slight smile and a two-fingered salute as if to say ‘hi’. “Crystal, Tubbo, this is Phil Craft, your Mentor,” Bad said, quickly gesturing to the man, anger bubbling to the surface. “Phil, where have you been?” Bad demanded, leaning over to snatch the muffin out of Phil’s hand. “No muffins until you eat actual food! We’re in District Two tomorrow and they expect us up and ready by 9 am sharp-!”

“Alright, alright! Stop freaking out, okay?” Phil pinched his nose in annoyance, turning his gaze to look over at the two teenagers again. Phil met Tubbo’s eyes and smirked. “Also, you said I needed real food?” Phil threw the apple up into the air as it caught wind on his arm, traveling over his shoulder blades and taking off of his opposite hand, landing in his mouth as he sunk his teeth into the apple flesh. “That count?” He asked between chewing as Tubbo and Crystal couldn’t help but smile and laugh, clapping to applaud Phil’s trick.

“You bail on us for a whole hour, show up to eat a single apple, and then got back to your little hermit hut?!” Bad’s voice raised slightly. “What do you even do in there that’s more important than this, huh??”

Phil’s playful smile dropped for a moment, replaced with something more melancholy as Bad clearly struck a nerve. There was a tense moment of silence before Phil resumed his happy persona. “Well, I didn’t mean to be a bother and disrupt your dinner. Now that I have my apple and my muffin, I’ll take my leave.” He looked over to the two tributes. “I’ll see both of you in the morning.” Phil smiled before quickly exiting the room once more, leaving a slightly irritated Bad, and two very off-put tributes.

Tubbo couldn’t sleep. The day’s events weighed too heavy on his mind - the Reaping, saying goodbye to his father, dealing with the thoughts of his own inevitable fate. He missed Schlatt’s warm embrace, he missed how his father ruffled up his hair just in the right way to say ‘I’m proud of you, kid.’ He missed home and its faint smell of motor oil and coal from the factories that always seemed to seep in through the windows and cracks in the walls just right. He didn’t feel safe here, he was in one of the fanciest bedrooms on a train that he knew he’d never be able to get a ticket for years, and yet nothing about this place felt safe.

He was being chased by something, something with claws and teeth that whispered nothing but death. But Tubbo didn’t want to die. Even if he knew it was his fate, Tubbo did not want to die. So he ran, his legs quickly getting sore and tired from overuse, yet he pushed on. He heard whispers in his ears, taunting him, laughing at his pathetic escape. Tears ran down Tubbo’s eyes as he pressed his hands over his ears and continued to run, something pinned him to the ground, claws sinking into his back as he whimpered in pain. A chill ran down his spine as the monster growled close to Tubbo’s ear. His heartbeat quicker as he begged, no pleaded to whatever was out there, please please I just want to live-!

He awoke with a start, looking around, tears streaming down his face as his body shook with an adrenaline rush. His hands found their way over his heart, making sure he was still alive as arms wrapped around him, shushing him and holding him close. “Woah there, Woah there… it’s okay, it’s okay. It was just a nightmare, it wasn’t real, shhh…” The panic in Tubbo’s chest slowly quieted as he wrapped his arms around the person, needing comfort desperately. The figure seemed startled for a moment before brushing back some of Tubbo’s hair out of his eyes. Tubbo looked at the figure for a moment, confused.

“Phil?”

“Hey mate.” Phil smiled warmly. “That was quite the nightmare, yeah? You were flopping around like a fish out of water.”

“But…” Tubbo sniffed, pulling away to wipe away his tears. “But why? How?”

“You sounded like you were in physical pain, I was worried. Can’t have a tribute dead before they even get to the arena, you know. Would really throw off the whole schedule.” Phil half-joked as he looked down at the mattress, not being able to meet Tubbo’s eyes at that moment. Tubbo’s gaze was focused on his mentor.

“Why’d you help me, we just met today for like two seconds at most-”

“It doesn’t really matter that much, I was just passing by-!” Phil dismissed quickly before Tubbo’s tone got more serious.

“Phil, if you’re going to be my Mentor you’ve gotta at least tell me the truth. I need you to tell me the absolute truth when it comes to this because I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, what I’m up against, how I’m even supposed to survive, but you do. I need you if I ever stand even a chance of getting home. Please.” Phil let out a frustrated sigh.

“You reminded me of my son, that’s all. When he used to be a tribute.” Phil said, looking toward the ground. “He’d have nightmares, he was so scared but I told him I’d never leave his side, so when he got picked I went with him as his Mentor.” Phil sucked on his cheek. “I thought that if I went with him, talked him through it, got every single sponsor I could, he’d…” Phil sighed. “I just didn’t want for you to have to deal with the nightmare alone, no one should have to handle everything alone.” Moving off his bed, he looked over. “I’ll be across the hall, okay?”

“Oh...Okay.” Tubbo said, nodding. “Thanks.”

Phil nodded back as he turned and Tubbo saw Phil’s hand move toward his chest quickly, was he putting his hand over his heart or something…? As Phil moved toward the door, one question stood on Tubbo’s mind, he bit his lip for a moment, considering.

“Phil, wait-!” Phil turned around, and Tubbo saw Phil’s hand wrap around a necklace of some kind he didn’t notice before, in the shape of a heart. “Did… did he survive? Your son?”

A tense silence followed.

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” Phil said. “No more questions, you need to get some sleep.”

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dweetwise · 4 years ago

Text

have a semi-rushed riconti one shot because i couldn’t not write them for valentine’s day 💕

ship: ace x felix warnings: none word count: 4180

The problem with secret admirers

Holidays usually weren't something the survivors had the luxury of celebrating.

The occasional seasonal decorations in trials along with some ridiculous, thematical outfits seemed more like a sign of their Eldritch captor's morbid sense of humor than evidence of the passing of time. But sadly, lacking calendars and all, it was the most accurate estimate they had.

So when the Entity plopped down some fireworks and talismans on the generators to proclaim the Chinese new year, it barely affected any of them.

Yui and Feng seemed more on edge than usual, the decorations crude imitations of the festivities they were used to back home. Adam had told the group about the year of the ox and the Chinese zodiac, the teacher donning a new hoodie he’d received for the occasion.

For Ace, the holiday meant nothing more than looting as many firecrackers as he could manage, along with making questionable “horny” jokes to the few killers that had received ox-themed outfits.

But in the midst of the survivors' celebration or lack thereof, they'd completely forgotten about another well-known February celebration.

When Ace returns from a successful trial and goes to stash yet another firecracker into his generous collection of items, he immediately notices something that doesn't belong.

Inside the trunk, on top of the organized chaos that is his pile of items and add-ons, lies a note.

Curiously unfolding the piece of paper, Ace makes out somewhat messy handwriting on a worn piece of paper.

'Your smile lights up the room'.

“Oh, ha ha, very funny,” Ace says, turning to face the small group of survivors by the campfire.

“Huh? What's up?” Steve perks up, others following suit and turning to watch the spectacle.

“Someone left me a little prank note,” Ace says, rolling his eyes and flicking the slip of paper over his shoulder.

“What?” Claudette says with a frown, immediately reaching for the discarded note.

“What does it say?” Cheryl asks curiously, coming up beside the botanist.

“'Your smile lights up the room,'” Claudette reads.

“Aww, that's adorable!” Kate exclaims. “A Valentine's day card!”

“The joke being that we're continually outdoors,” Ace explains. “Meaning my smile does jack shit.”

“Are you sure? Maybe they meant figuratively,” Claudette gently prods.

“Yes Claudy, I'm sure I'm not getting mystery love notes,” Ace snorts at the incredulous suggestion, before turning back to the others. “Come on, whose idea was it? Fess up!” he demands, looking over the group

When nobody makes a move to come clean, others also looking around in confusion, Ace eventually focuses his stare on Nea, Meg and Feng, the trio of troublemakers sitting together by the fire.

“The hell you looking at me for?” Nea cusses.

“That’s lame as fuck,” Meg agrees.

“I'm tempted to make one now just so you’ll see—” Feng starts.

“That's a great idea! We should all make Valentine's day cards for each other!” Kate suggest, missing the gamer's point entirely.

“Look, there's a drawing too!” Cheryl suddenly exclaims, pointing at the back of the mystery note still in Claudette’s hands.

Ace sighs and leans over to look, fully expecting a doodled caricature of himself or even a crude phallic sketch.

Instead, he finds a pretty good drawing of some sort of flower. It’s not perfect, but it looks like someone clearly put a lot of work into it.

“It's a clover,” Claudette informs, glancing up at Ace with a smile. “No doubt for luck, even if it doesn't have the iconic four leaves.”

“Uh. Maybe,” Ace says, a little taken aback at the information. Someone really went through a lot of effort just for a small prank.

“So? Who's it from?” Steve asks impatiently.

“It still doesn’t say, Steve,” Cheryl sighs in irritation.

“I mean, Jeff and Jane are the artists,” Quentin points out.

“Uh-huh, sure, Jeff would draw a flower card for Ace and not his botanist girlfriend,” Meg snorts, making Claudette duck her head bashfully.

“And Jane—" Steve starts, excitedly turning to the former talk show host.

“No,” Jane interrupts the teen. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but hell no.”

“No offense taken, sweetheart,” Ace grins good-naturedly, the cheesy flirt making the woman grimace.

“What about Bill?” Nea suggests out of the blue.

“What the hell are you on, kid?” Bill snorts, and even Ace has to bite back a laugh over the thought of the gruff veteran writing love letters.

“Just trying to think of someone in his age range!” Nea protests.

“Well, did anyone see anything?” Quentin asks. “We can’t all have been in a trial when the note was placed.”

“I’ve been in like three trials today,” Feng complains.

“I don’t think any of us really keep track of people at the fire,” Kate says. “Anyone could have walked by and put it there.”

“Aww, so we’re not gonna know who it was?” Steve frowns.

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Jane says.

As the commotion seems to die down, Claudette hands back the note back to Ace.

“You should keep it. It seems you have a secret admirer, after all,” Claudette says, smiling.

“Guess it can’t hurt,” Ace says, reluctantly pocketing the card. He’s still not sure it's genuine, but is intrigued by the sudden turn of events nonetheless.

Surprisingly, it seems the kids aren’t quite ready to give up on finding out the culprit. Some time later, Ace sees Cheryl, Steve and Quentin huddle together by one of the tree stumps, Cheryl looking to be taking notes on a map.

“Did you ask the ones who just got back?” Cheryl asks.

“Yup! Steve says. “Jeff was mostly confused, and David laughed his ass off. Laurie said she hadn't seen anything weird before she got taken to the trial. And Tapp just looked like he'd lost all hope for humanity,” Steve summarizes.

“Sounds about right,” Quentin huffs.

“Okay, so we've ruled out us three, Laurie, Jeff, Claudette, Jane, Bill, Tapp and David,” Cheryl recaps.

“And Nance has Jonathan, and Felix has his girlfriend,” Steve reminds.

“We should definitely rule out Nea too, since she’s way younger than him,” Quentin says. “Meg and Feng too, I guess."

“You're right, they always bully Ace too,” Steve casually remarks.

Ace rolls his eyes behind his shades and keeps shuffling his cards, not understanding why the group is so hell bent on talking about him like he’s not even there.

“Oh, and Yui,” Cheryl says.

“Good point,” Quentin says.

“Huh? Why?” Steve asks, confused.

“She, uh…” Cheryl falters. “Girl talk. I know it's not her.”

“Okay!” Steve beams.

And that pretty much sums up Ace's expectations for their little operation to succeed. If Steve somehow still hasn't figured out that the Japanese woman is solely interested in other women, Ace doesn’t have much trust in his detective work.

“Kate?” Cheryl suggests.

“She’s making Valentine��s cards for all of us as we speak,” Quentin snorts. “I don’t think she’d play favorites.”

“What about Dwight?” Steve suggests.

“Well… it’s definitely awkward and weird enough to fit his MO,” Cheryl considers.

“I thought he was into Jake?” Quentin says.

And that’s about the time Ace tunes out and goes to bug Tapp to play cards with him, hoping the detective will be happy to pretend like this entire thing never happened.

Ace doesn’t know how long it is before he’s finally taken to a trial, but it feels like an eternity. The atmosphere around camp is awkward as people trickle in and out from trials and someone always feels the need to point out he was on the receiving end of an anonymous person’s affection. The reactions, unsurprisingly, range from awkward confusion to straight up laughter.

So when the fog finally surrounds Ace, he actually welcomes it. The familiar sight of the Autohaven gas station is enough to take his mind off the teasing back at camp, at least momentarily.

But another problem presents itself right as he rounds a corner of scrap and finds Élodie on a generator—

“Hey, come here often?” Ace jokes, crouching down next to the machine to get to work.

—And the woman immediately gets up to leave.

“It wasn’t me, so don’t get any ideas,” Élodie scowls in his direction.

“Huh? I didn’t—” Ace tries to explain, but she’s already taking off in a sprint, and Ace thinks he hears her mutter “creep”.

Ace sighs and barely resists the urge to bash his face against the generator in frustration. This day just keeps getting better.

To Ace’s utter delight—that is to say, absolute annoyance—his mystery admirer becomes the biggest source of entertainment for the survivors. He doesn’t mind playing along for the first few jabs at his expense, thinking the others will surely get bored after just a few hours.

They don’t.

Most of the group still seem determined to figure out the person behind the note, others are content to gossip and joke about the possibilities, and some go as far as to blame Ace for intentionally stirring up drama. His not-so-subtle suggestions to let it go are shrugged off, and after a few days, Ace resigns himself to his fate and figures the sooner he lets the whole thing sort itself out, the better.

It doesn’t mean he’s happy about it.

To add insult to injury, even the killers seem to have a sudden hard-on for him, focusing Ace with single-minded determination every chance they get.

It's only a few days later, when the Pig kneels down Ace's prone form to place a trap on his head, that he realizes why.

“There you go, lover boy,” the woman's voice sounds mocking despite being muffled by her mask.

“Wah?” Ace asks, the device attached to his jaw making it hard to speak.

“I heard someone has a little admirer,” the Pig says. “I figured it warrants some special treatment.”

The word is accentuated by throwing Ace up on a hook, and the gambler's following scream is as much from pain as it is from frustration.

When Ace gets back to the campfire after having his head popped by the killer’s trap, he sits down on a log furthest from the group, hoping to get a breather—

“Hey, look who it is!” Ash immediately interrupts his moment of solitude, sitting down uninvited next to Ace. “How you doing, champ?” Ash grins, elbowing him in the side.

“What do you want?” Ace asks, feeling much more irritable than usual because of the constant teasing.

“I mean…” Ash says, before looking around and lowering his voice. “Have you figured out who it is?”

Ace rolls his eyes and resists the urge to slap the man with his own prosthetic hand.

“Come on, you can tell me!” Ash grins in a very suspicious way.

“If I find out, you’ll be the first to know. Trust me,” Ace whispers, lying out of his ass.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Ash laughs, way louder than necessary. “I’m happy for you; at least someone around here will be getting laid!”

Half of the camp erupts into snickers and the other half turns to glare at Ace, notifying him that their conversation was definitely loud enough to overhear.

“Not in front of the children!” Jane sneers, like Ace enjoys having his sex life publicly broadcasted.

“Oh, would you look at that!” Ace quips with fake cheer as fog starts creeping up his legs, thankful for the Entity’s timing even though he barely got back to the campfire. “Time for another trial!”

When the fog clears from around him, Ace is in the killer shack in Red Forest with Cheryl and Felix right beside him.

“I'm gonna go find Zarina,” Cheryl whispers to Ace, informing him of who their last teammate is.

“Sure,” Ace says, knowing it’s good to split up, as Felix has already started repairs on the generator in the shack—

“I need to privately ask her about the note!” Cheryl beams and is sprinting away before Ace can reply.

Which is just as well, because he might have said a few choice words to the kid through his annoyance. Thankfully, he's left with Felix, one of the few people who have treated Ace normally throughout this entire thing.

“Fuck this,” Ace curses, joining the handsome German on the generator. Felix glances up but doesn't ask, and Ace appreciates being given the space to rant. “This is the worst thing that's ever happened!”

“The note?" Felix asks.

“What else? It seems it's all anyone ever talks about!” Ace rages, throwing one of his hands up in frustration and nearly causing the machine to explode. “I swear, this is worse than middle school,” Ace huffs. “I have girls gossiping, kids pestering and killers bullying me. And for what? A shitty piece of paper!”

Damn, it feels good to get this out. Ace doubts Felix cares, but it's nice to get to vent to someone he knows won't make the situation worse.

“Whoever left the note must be an idiot,” Felix comments bluntly, and it gives Ace pause.

Sure, Ace is frustrated, but he's still a little sentimental over the note and cute gesture behind it. Regardless, he shouldn’t be surprised that the no-nonsense architect would find the notion ridiculous.

“I'm just so done with it,” Ace sighs. “At this point, I'd take any explanation. Even an 'oops, wrong trunk, it was never meant for you'. Sure, I like being in the spotlight, but this is getting unbearable.”

Felix doesn't say anything, only keeps working away; probably embarrassed being forced to discuss Ace's (lack of) love life.

“I—” Felix starts after an awkward silence.

“Shit, I'm sorry,” Ace interrupts with a chuckle, not wanting the German to be any more uncomfortable than he already clearly is. “Didn't mean to talk about ear off about this stuff. Let's get this gen done, huh?”

Felix immediately seems relieved, and Ace jumps at the chance to change topics.

“You ever been to China?” Ace asks, nodding at the firework decoration on top of their generator.

As they chat about one of Felix's business trips to Shanghai, Ace is simultaneously glad for a distraction from his Valentine's fiasco and melancholy about their shallow friendship.

Maybe he'd take this whole thing more seriously if there was any possibility it would actually lead to something with the one person he's even remotely interested in. If Ace was in his prime, he'd probably have made a move on Felix months ago, girlfriend and heterosexuality be damned. Young and reckless Ace wouldn't have cared, happily flirting his ass off.

Meanwhile, old and slightly less reckless Ace has to settle for shitty jokes and sneaking glances at Felix.

When the Ghostface finally makes an appearance during their second generator and proceeds to chase and tunnel Ace to death despite the others' best efforts to save him, Ace isn’t even surprised anymore.

“I'm starting to wonder if the note is even legit,” Quentin says one day.

“How come?” Kate asks, cocking her head.

“Don't you think Ace's secret admirer would have come clean by now?" Quentin prods.

“Maybe it was just the Entity messing with us?” Laurie suggests.

“If it was a prank from someone, I’m kinda proud of them for pulling it off,” Nea says. “Especially for this long!”

“I think it’s mean,” Claudette says. “They’ve allowed this to go on for way too long. Just look at poor Ace!”

Everyone turns to collectively look at Ace, who is just trying to play some goddamn solitaire in peace while the rest, again, seem content to talk about him like he’s not even there.

“He looks the same as always,” Meg snorts.

“He’s been tunneled to death the last then trials in a row,” Laurie scolds.

“I’m fine,” Ace insists.

“I think his secret fan is just shy!” Kate continues and sparks another debate, oblivious to Ace’s annoyance.

When Ace gets back from yet another unsuccessful trial and sees a group of gossiping people and a grinning Nea, he groans in exasperation.

Before anyone can bring up Ace’s least favorite subject, Felix butts in.

“Ace,” Felix addresses, coming up beside the group. “Do you have time to teach me that perk you used the other trial? With the longer aura-reading?”

“You want… one of my perks?” Ace asks, surprised.

Felix has always seemed more altruistic than others, and it’s no secret Ace's perks were only used by… Well, Ace.

“Um, yes. If it’s not a bother,” Felix says, discreetly glancing at the group of gossip-hungry survivors waiting to attack Ace’s misery.

And it dawns on Ace that Felix is giving him a distraction to slip away.

“Oh, of course!” Ace grins. “Right this way!”

As soon as they’re out of earshot from the campfire, Ace starts prattling away.

“Thanks for covering for me!” Ace beams. “I thought they’d have gotten bored by now—"

“It was me,” Felix interrupts grimly, making Ace pipe down and turn to look at him.

“Uh… come again?” Ace asks, confused.

“I did it. I wrote the note,” Felix confesses, looking at Ace in determination.

“What? Why?” Ace asks, incredulous. When Felix's bravado falters, he keeps going. “Look, you don't have to cover for whoever it was,” Ace sighs. “I don’t blame you for wanting this entire thing to be over—"

“I'm serious,” Felix says. “I've been lying for way too long. I should have come clean before, but I was too much of a coward.”

Alright, what the actual fuck? Why would Felix, of all people, have sent Ace a love note?

While he’s gaping stupidly, Felix continues:

“Claudette was right, it’s my fault for letting this go on for so long. I’m sorry.”

“But… your girlfriend—” Ace starts, struggling to wrap his head around the whole thing.

“Will hopefully move on once she realizes I'm not coming back,” Felix says. “I've started to accept that I'm not getting out of here.”

“Well, that sounds cheerful,” Ace comments.

“Sheiße, I didn't mean it like that,” Felix winces. “I just… thought I'd do things differently this time. Since I never had the courage to, in my old life.”

“So… where do I come into the picture?” Ace asks, skeptical.

“I…” Felix says, wringing his hands in a nervous gesture. “Wanted to see how you would react to the note. It was stupid.”

“Huh? How come?”

“I caused you nothing but harm,” Felix sighs. “First you thought I was mocking you, then the others kept bothering you, and even the killers were giving you a hard time. I'm sorry, I should never have done it.”

“No, I mean—” Ace flounders for an explanation. Sure, he'd been annoyed, but none of the things that happened were Felix’s fault. “Why give something like that to me?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Felix says, scratching at his neck while averting his eyes. “I admit I haven't celebrated Valentine's day much, but I assumed…” he trails off.

What? Felix was seriously trying to test the waters of… getting together with Ace?

It slowly starts to make sense. Felix’s strange behavior. The messy handwriting on the note, probably from Felix’s nerves. The surprising artistic talent of the sketch, after a lifetime of architectural drawings.

“Well, this is unexpected,” Ace says with a smirk, not able to keep the cockiness from seeping into his voice at the knowledge that Felix, somehow, seems to be interested in him.

“Sorry—”

“I said unexpected, not unwelcome,” Ace interrupts.

And then gets to watch the realization slowly dawn on Felix, the perpetual worried frown on the other’s face smoothing out as his eyes widen in hope.

“You don't mind?” Felix asks.

“Let's just say I'm surprised you haven't caught me looking,” Ace grins. “I never expected someone as handsome as you to return the attention,” he can't resist flirting.

“Ähm, well, I…” Felix flusters from the compliment, looking at the ground. “Am not very good at this.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Ace says.

Then, he reaches into his breast pocket, pulling out the infamous note he’s kept on him this entire time. Felix’s gaze follows his movement as Ace carefully unfolds the paper, crumpled and smudged from having been with him trial after trial.

“I thought you threw it away,” Felix says quietly, eyes wide in awe.

“You don’t just throw away a good luck charm,” Ace chastises playfully, pointedly brushing his thumb over the clover drawing. “Especially not one that’s the nicest thing anyone’s done for me in a long time.”

Ace bites his tongue to stop prevent more mushy sentiments from slipping out. Felix is still staring way too intently and not saying a word, so Ace clears his throat self-consciously tucks the note safely back into his pocket.

“I can’t believe you kept it,” Felix finally says, an adorable smile on his lips as he meets Ace’s eyes.

“Well, seeing as we’ve now established that we’re both sentimental saps…” Ace starts with a smirk, stepping closer to Felix to test the waters. “I have a question.”

“Oh, umh… Yes?” Felix says, straightening his back but still seeming nervous.

It's adorable, and Ace wants to kick himself for not noticing anything sooner. Still, there's no time like the present.

“Be my valentine?” Ace asks with a grin.

Felix's posture instantly relaxes, and the smile is back on his face.

“I'd love to,” Felix says.

Ace’s grin widens until he feels like it’ll be permanently etched onto his face. This is a much better outcome than he ever expected when he found an unassuming note with his items.

“So, ehm…” Felix starts after they’ve been staring at each other for a beat too long, snapping Ace out of it. “Do you… should we…?” Felix falters, nervously brushing a stray lock from his face.

“Wanna find a place to sit down and chat?” Ace suggests, not feeling any need to rush things now that he knows where they stand with each other. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a break from the others.”

“Me too,” Felix says, seeming relieved. “I admit I’m not looking forward to what the others will say about this.”

“Fuck em!” Ace says. “They’ve had their fun, I’m not gonna let them put you through the same shit as they did me. We don’t even have to tell them.”

“No, I want to,” Felix insists. “If I have to hear one more rude joke about you from Feng…” Felix’s mouth pinches into a thin line.

“Aww, babe,” Ace teases, the pet name slipping out before he can stop it. “You don’t have to defend my honor.”

“I do, and I will,” Felix says with surprising determination.

“Well, in that case, I won’t stop you,” Ace grins.

“Good,” Felix says with a smug little smirk.

And the sudden assertiveness makes heat creep up Ace’s neck, quickly starting to regret his suggestion to take things slow.

“I, uh, I think I saw a pretty cozy clearing not far from here,” Ace says, eager to get the chance to get to know more about his companion.

“Lead the way,” Felix agrees.

They end up sitting next to each other under the stars and talking for what has to be hours, but goes by in the blink of an eye. No longer having to filter himself and keep their conversation casual is a much-needed break from the past few days, and the smile never once leaves Ace’s face.

Talking to Felix makes the feelings Ace has tried so hard to ignore come back full force, reminding him of why the man caught his eye in the first place. Sure, Felix is still more attractive than anyone has the right to be, but he’s also insanely smart and surprisingly witty past the initial anxious exterior. The way he smiles and gives his undivided attention even when Ace talks about silly, insignificant things not only makes Ace forget all about his recent frustrations, but also takes his mind away from the strange world surrounding them.

And when Felix eventually scoots even closer and looks at Ace with nothing but fondness in his eyes, Ace has no trouble throwing his initial hesitance out of the window and going in for a kiss.

It’s not earth-shattering or particularly intense, it’s just really, really nice and makes Ace’s heart do stupid leaps in his chest. It’s been so long since he even kissed anyone, and getting to smooch the person he’s been secretly pining over for months and have said person eagerly return the kiss?

“Why the hell haven’t we done this sooner?” Ace voices his thought when he pulls away from the gentle kiss, making Felix huff a quiet laugh into their shared breathing space.

“I should have just signed the note,” Felix says.

“Good thing you can make it up to me now, Valentine,” Ace grins.

Felix chuckles warmly and a callused hand comes up to gently cup Ace’s cheek before tilting his head up into another kiss.

And even though Ace isn’t normally one for holiday celebrations, he’s looking forward to spending many more with Felix by his side.

#riconti #dbd fanfic #ace visconti #felix richter #dweetwrites #dbd #dead by daylight

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years ago

Text

Indivisible: Part 3

Poe Dameron x reader? Finn x reader? Finn x Poe?

Summary: Finn is your wonderful boyfriend, and Poe is your wonderful best friend. But when Poe begins to look at you differently, you wonder if there’s another way to arrange the pieces of your heart to make it whole.

Time for the fated movie night, everyone! It’s a date!

Part one: here two: here

Author’s note: We’ve had Poe’s POV, and reader’s POV, now we get Finn’s. And of course, I got carried away with Finn and so this is by far the longest of all four parts. I think this is pretty darn cute, so I hope you like it. Finn is a precious, anxious bean in this, I’m soft and can’t deal. Also my first time writing a Finn POV, let me know how I did!

Word count: 4.5k ish

Warnings: TEEN rating for pretty suggestive and steamy themes but nothing explicit. SO MUCH FLUFF tbh.

STUNNING GIF by @horrorgay, which, could this gif be more perfect for this chapter, I-

“I am calm!”, Finn insists to Bb-8 as he fumbles with the cushions and blankets he’s arranged and rearranged a number of times already.

Bb-8 rolls the dome of his head and, somehow, makes binary sound indignant as he responds to Finn, pointing out that if he was calm, that his heart rate wouldn’t be reading so high now, would it?

“Has anyone ever told you you’re too sassy for an astromech? You can tell exactly who your dad is, droid.”

Bb-8 beeps again as Finn crouches to compulsively shuffle cushions around, trying to make everything just right.

“I’m not sweating! You’re sweating!” Finn defends weakly, wiping his (sweaty) brow with the back of his hand.

Bb-8 beeps more softly this time, and Finn looks over at the droid with hopeful eyes as he fans out a blanket.

“You really think the room looks good?” The small rec room is nothing special, but Finn has done his best to set out a cosy, makeshift seating area on the floor opposite the holoscreen, replacing the scattered and stiff tables and chairs with something more befitting a movie night. Snapped light sticks scattered here and there deliver an ambient glow to the room too.

Finn gulps, starting to wonder if it’s all a little too… romantic, as Bb-8 delivers his animated reply. Still, he lies across the soft furnishings to test it out, nodding to himself in satisfaction as he discovers that his improvised floor couch is pretty damn comfy, actually.

“Ok, I know you didn’t say it looks good, Beebs- I know you said logically laid out, but that still means a lot, my round friend.”

Finn’s eyes scan around the space, grateful for the reassurance, and trying to use the moment to muster a deep, calming breath.

Finn is renowned for panicking. But he’s not entirely sure why he’s quite so panicked about the prospect of movie night with you and Poe. And he’s somewhat reluctant to pull at that thread. Finn has managed to survive most of the terrifying situations he’s found himself in via a lot of big talk and bluster (and a lot of heart), but tonight, he’s filled with a nervous energy that he can’t shake. A nervous energy which has had him pacing the floor, and apparently rearranging cushions a bunch.

Even though you’ve made it abundantly clear to Finn, time and again, that you care deeply for him, Finn has only recently stopped being nervous around you. He’s starting to understand -after you gently pointed it out to him- that he has a people-pleasing streak; probably something to do with the fact that he’s never really had any people to call his… not until the Resistance. And now that he does, not only is he very eager to impress and to be liked, he’s also terrified that you’ll unmask him as unworthy. Finn just can’t quite see just how special he really is, and he thinks you’re amazing, so he’s a little terrified that he’ll lose you, if he’s honest. A little disbelieving, albeit proud, that he has you at all.

There’s also a second, more shrouded reason that Finn is nervous. One that he’s less inclined to admit to. The reason on the end of that string that he doesn’t want to pull on. Poe Dameron is coming to the movie night. Finn is good friends with Poe. It’s not unusual that Finn and Poe forged such an instant, intense attachment. The man had named Finn, for kriff’s sake. The man had been the first one to see him. Really see him. He’d saved his life. Yet, for all Finn admires Poe, the thing that is really making Finn nervous about him coming along? Poe Dameron is hella cute, and he can’t help thinking with the addition of each fluffed cushion and softly shining light stick, that this seemed awfully like a… date.

And, dates? You guessed it- they made Finn nervous.

With that thought, and the spike of guilt which follows the realisation, and the fear that he’s a terrible boyfriend and that he’s going to lose you, the nerves churn in Finn’s stomach all over again. He doesn’t have time to deal with them, however, as you and Poe burst through the door at that moment, causing Finn to spring to his feet.

You boot the door open first, your arms full with snacks boosted from the supply store (using those “commander privileges”), and Poe follows, similarly laden, but with the addition of a big bag of Greedos chips clasped in between his teeth.

Finn notices that you’ve both changed out of your flight suits (Finn will never understand how you make that outfit look so good) and into your comfy Resistance pyjamas- variations on plain tees and shorts, matching Finn’s own attire.

“Hey, sexy!”, you greet Finn, and when you dip your head to press a soft kiss on Finn’s cheek a huge swathe of his nervousness evaporates. “The room looks great! This is so cosy, babe!” You’re like a calming wave of relief, and Finn’s eyes dance happily over you in your cute little shorts. He likes seeing you with your legs on display.

“Hey, sexy!”, Poe echoes around the bag of chips in his mouth with an accompanying pump of his eyebrows, his eyes glinting mischievously. Ok, Finn’s nervousness skyrockets right back up again. Especially when you complain about Poe’s spit being on the bag and Finn knows that should definitely gross him out but that it definitely doesn’t.

Still, Finn gathers himself, as you and Poe dance around unloading and decanting snacks and drinks and getting the holomovie set-up. You buzz around Finn, moving from place to place, and your hand circles his sturdy waist whenever you need to wheel around him. Finn doesn’t pick-up on how automatically you touch him, just wanting to be in contact. He just notices the way you interact with Poe as you busy about, communicating in that shorthand you two have - something which Finn remains just a little envious of. You two barely need to say full words -never mind full sentences- to one another to communicate. You’ve spent so much time together that everything is effortless. That’s yet another reason Finn is nervous about this. He tries so hard to be the perfect boyfriend for you (and he doesn’t need to try), but he feels like Poe could be so much better for you. He knows it’s irrational, and it comes from his insecurity, but he can’t help but be a little… jealous, on ocassion.

Finn adds that thought to his cycling, growing list of Things to Worry About, and prepares to settle down before the makeshift screening area. Too late to back-out now, he supposes. Plus, this setting is definitely romantic enough that he doesn’t fancy leaving you and Poe alone here. He trusts you; he really does. He just doesn’t trust his own thoughts and would rather spare himself the mental torture.

Finn is about to plonk himself down next to you on the makeshift couch of sorts, when you halt him with a palm on his ass, pushing him back to standing.

“I promised Poe he could be in the middle. That ok, babe?” You wink up at Finn and he reluctantly agrees, plonking himself on the other side of Poe instead. He doesn’t want you to think he’s clingy, after all, so he tries his best to be Super Chill Finn as he takes his position.

Once Finn is seated beside Poe, you dish out some bowls of snacks. Seeing what you’ve bagged, Finn excitedly leans forward and talks across Poe to you. “You got popcorn, baby? Oh damn, I love you!”

You lean similarly forward to talk across the pilot, however, your jaw drops, and, from your reaction, Finn clocks the words that just left his mouth. Ohhhh boyyy. Finn does; he loves you, but he hasn’t said it to you out loud yet. And it’s somehow plainly obvious that he didn’t mean it only in relation to the popcorn.

It could and should be awkward with Poe sandwiched between the two of you, but, weirdly, Finn is thankful that he’s there to relieve the tension, because Finn is a feeling a little out of his depth here, and Poe always knows what to say to make people feel calm. You can rely on Poe to fill silences, that’s a given.

“Is that the first time you’ve said that?”, Poe asks, not shy about wading in, and flicking his head between the both of your apprehensive faces. Poe obnoxiously munches on his popcorn in the middle of you both, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Cute.”, he grins, stuffing more cloud-like snacks into his mouth. “Honoured to be present for this beautiful moment. Not ruining it am I?” he breezes, munching down as loudly as possible on another handful. As neither of you speak, Poe continues to fill the gaps. “I don’t even need the movie to watch with you two here - this is great entertainment.” , he adds, around another succession of crunching.

Poe then exclaims an “ow!” as if you’ve just elbowed him in the ribs, less than subtly. You probably have.

“I love you too, Finn.”, you respond, finally, and Finn swears his heart might radiate out of his chest like daybreak over the horizon. You certainly are his sunshine, and there’s no denying that.

If Finn isn’t mistaken, a little sadness pools in Poe’s eyes at your words, a liquid, hazy glow like moonshine. Finn feels empathy for the pilot. He certainly wouldn’t wish loneliness on anyone. He knows too much about what it’s like. Still, Poe’s reaction confirms a suspicion that Finn has long harboured- that Poe wanted a little more from you than he lets on. Or a lot more, maybe.

Regardless, Poe continues bravely on with his bluster, like a bigshot. Finn knows all about bluster.

“Do you two wanna kiss? Just pretend I’m not here, you can lean over me if you like. I’ve had worse views.”

“That’s a hard nope!” Finn quickly responds, growing flustered, and keen not to put himself in any more situations which might make him nervous. Leaning across Poe Dameron’s lap certainly falls in that category.

You agree to just stick the movie on, and you all snuggle down together under the liberal blankets, getting comfy. Finn smiles softly as the movie starts playing, and Poe’s commentary on literally everything that happens begins. It transpires that you’ve selected a horror for the viewing, and it seems that Poe is already feeling creeped out just a short amount of time into watching.

Finn smiles softly. That’s ok. Horror movies are one thing he knows he can handle without panicking. Finally, there’s something!

Finn casts his eyes over to you fondly as you noisily munch on your popcorn and cackle, partly at the faux gore of the movie, and partly because Poe jumps out of his skin at the sight of a holo-skeleton emerging abruptly from out of the screen.

Ah, that’s right. Finn seems to remember that Poe really doesn’t like bones.

“You’re heartless.” Poe scolds as you laugh at him, and Finn notes that the pilot has clamped his hand down on to your thigh, purely out of instinct. When Poe does that, suddenly you don’t seem to find anything quite as funny, and he can almost see the breath catch in your chest as you glance down at his hand there. Finn doesn’t spike at the sight like he might have expected though, the observation simply flows through him and is gone.

“You won’t find any sympathy with that one. Completely ruthless.” Finn confirms with a smirk. “Don’t worry, though. Big, strong Finn will protect you from the skeletons.”. Yeah. Horror film? Pah. Finn’s got this.

At that, when the next jumpy moment comes around, Poe throws his head into Finn’s chest -out of instinct-, shielding his eyes from the onslaught, shuddering against him as a chill runs down his spine. Finn tips his head back in an open-mouthed laugh, chuckling warmly at the usually fearless pilot, but he slips his arm around Poe without thinking -out of instinct- and clasps him close.

Poe continues to muffle complaints into Finn’s chest, peeking at the screen at intervals. “Ugh, I really don’t like it.” Poe complains, but he’s laughing intermittently through his jitters, as are you. With the appearance of a giant skull on the screen, Poe draws his knees up to his chest and is practically sitting on Finn’s lap.

“Bravest pilot in the Resistance, everyone.”, you announce, laughing fondly at your friend and patting him soothingly on the back, Finn infers, from the sound of some percussive taps. “Sorry, I honestly didn’t remember the skeletons. Hilarious as this is, shall we fast-forward for you?” you offer.

“No way. I’ve got this.” Poe insists, even though his head is still buried into Finn’s chest.

Speaking of that.

Ohhhh boyyyy, Finn is panicking again. He feels frozen. He can’t bring himself to unhook his arm from around Poe. He certainly can’t bring himself to pull him any closer, even though… he wants to?

Finn feels like his heart is beating so hard that Poe must surely be able to feel it through his chest. So hard that surely you must be able to hear it, even from where you’re sat. Surely? What’s worse, is that Poe’s divinely soft curls are brushing up under his chin, so close that Finn can smell his kriffing shampoo. And, oh boy, it smells good. What’s more, Poe’s warm, steady palm is resting on Finn’s chest, the weight of it there through the rise and fall of his breath as the pilot remains nestled there. If Bb-8 comes at him with some kinda comment about his heart rate right now, he swears…

“I hate you, Sunshine. Why did you choose this movie?” Poe moans into Finn’s chest, the pilot’s curls still tickling his jawline, his breath warm through the thin fabric of his tee. Finn squirms uncomfortably in his seat, feeling out of his depth, not for the first time this evening.

When he realises his predicament, Finn gulps and helplessly looks over to you. You notice the movement in your periphery and look away from the screen toward your boyfriend. And then you are examining Finn’s face steadily, watching all of this unfold, and the two of you exchange a meaningful glance without words. Maybe you two do have your own unique form of shorthand after all. Finn feels like you can see through him, because if there’s one thing Finn is bad at, it’s lying. Especially with you, Finn is an open-book. He wants it that way, sometimes even when it’s to his detriment. And so, he can barely even make a thin attempt to conceal it. In fact, Finn feels like he’s transmitting his feelings for Poe like a flare, for all present to see.

The longer you stare at Finn, the more he feels his face becomes laden with… apology. He definitely doesn’t want to lose the best thing that ever happened to him. That’s you, by the way. If Finn is reading this right though, if his instincts are right, you’re not mad. In fact, if he’s reading this right, you… want this too?

“Maybe we wanted an excuse to snuggle you.”, you suggest, in answer to Poe’s question, your eyes still steady on Finn as you raise a suggestive eyebrow, and settle your hand on top of his where it rests on the pilot’s shoulder, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

When Finn’s voice comes out next it is high-pitched. “Can I talk to you over there for a second?”. If he wasn’t before, he’s definitely sweating now.

You excuse yourself from Poe momentarily as Finn extricates himself and shuffles you over to the corner, under the guise of something or other. Poe’s light complaints remain audible in the background as the movie continues rolling, and Finn sees that at least he’s still chatting away to Beebs, the droid wobbling away excitably as the events on screen, hopefully drowning out the conversation about to unfold.

“What are you up to?” Finn asks you outright, coming at you way more offensively than intended. “You’re being damn sketchy, and I need to know what’s-“. Don’t they say that offence is the best form of defence?

You interrupt with a gentle, knowing smile and a caress of your palm to the side of Finn’s face, countering his rising panic with softness, like you’ve gotten so good at doing. “I know how you feel about me, Finn. I also know you like him.” You say straight, speaking plainly and slowly, and Finn pinches his full lips together. Still, he can’t bring himself to deny it. He can’t lie to you. Couldn’t possibly.

“Baby...”, he begins, grappling for words he doesn’t know how to find. Finn had spent so long with no-one, no-one at all to call his, and suddenly he felt like he had two people he wanted to belong to. What were the chances of them both wanting the same thing as well? He didn’t want to lose you over this. Not ever, not over anything, in fact.

“It’s ok.”, you reassure. “I... I like him too.” You nibble on your lip with your admission, as if unsure of how this might go down. Still, your eyes remain calm and steady, and something in them communicates a… good feeling to Finn. Although you’re admitting this, it doesn’t feel like you’re moving further away from him. If anything, Finn’s never felt you closer. It’s like he’s finally seeing the truth of you, feeling the Force slip through you freely, along its true path, without kinks or tangles. Love, free to gain momentum. To flow.

Finn examines your eyes for tricks or hidden agendas but finds you as honest and as straightforward as ever, looking at him with the full force of your love. He interrupts your train of thought with the pad of his thumb on your bottom lip. “-You’re deadass?”

“Serious.” you promise, with a bob of your head. “So... I’m sorry about the shitty timing of this conversation- I didn’t know Poe was practically going to jump into your lap- but, if he wanted to...” you ask, interlocking your fingers into Finn’s and tipping your head subtly back towards Poe “...which I’m pretty confident he does, by the way… Do you want to?”

Finn searches your eyes again, and when he gulps at that thought, he sees you backpedal. “No pressure, no rush.”

Finn frowns, seeking to get this exactly right. “You mean, like… me and him and you?” He swallows thickly.

You grip on to his hands more tightly. “I mean, like, all three of us.”. There’s something about your phrasing compared to Finn’s that just hits different. Like you’re not separate points on a triangle, but all part of one single shape.

Suddenly, strangely, Finn is as calm as he’s ever felt. For a moment, it’s as though everything in the galaxy has aligned. He smooths his thumbs over your hand where he holds you. He nods his head in response and you echo the certainty in his eyes. “Hell to the yes.”, he says with conviction, and, as he plants the softest, most loving kiss to your lips, both your faces split into broad grins.

“Guys!” Poe’s voice cuts through the room, and Finn and you both spin towards him in sync, anticipating another complaint about skeletons.

That’s not what you get. Nowhere near.

“If you’re gonna make-out can you at least include me, already?” Poe says with a wayward smirk, one arm folded elaborately behind his head, and the other continuing to shuttle popcorn into his smug mouth.

He looks with amusement between Finn’s confused face and yours, his pretty eyes half-lidded.

“Forgettin’ I have a droid with super hearing, huh? Whisper about banging me at your peril.” Poe sets the popcorn aside and folds both of his arms behind his head now, looking between you both sweetly. Hungrily. The suggestive quirk of his eyebrow which follows, as an invitation, is almost too much for Finn to handle. Is this really about to happen?

Finn grips your hand for reassurance (his own reassurance, no point trying to disguise it). Finn isn’t afraid to show vulnerability, after all. He’s pleased, though, when you supply a firm squeeze to his now sweaty palm in return.

Making his farewells, Bb-8 takes his definite cue to roll the hell out of the room, before he sees things he’d have to request a data wipe for. The droid skedaddles, and then it really is just the three of you.

The three of you.

“Wait, you heard that? And you’re ok with this?”, Finn asks Poe in auto-disbelief.

Poe simply continues to languish, dramatically kicking off his blanket and revealing him laid out in his pyjama shorts and tee. Looking pretty damn appealing in them too, especially as the tee rides up his tan torso, revealing a light trail of hair heading down beneath his shorts. Those thick thighs stretched out in front of him. “Do your worst. I’m all yours.”, he announces. “And yours.”

You and Finn both notice Poe’s pyjama shorts tenting at the same moment, even before he does. When he follows the direction of your eyes, he looks down at himself almost apologetically. Almost.

You grin, and Finn sees your eyes seethe with lust. “Mmm. Maybe we can help you with that, Poe Dameron. Finn? What do you think?”

“Hell to the yes.”, Finn enthuses, as you both pad across to the makeshift seating area… which is now suddenly looking a lot like a makeshift bed to Finn’s eyes. Guess he did do with a good job with the room after all.

You exchange a heated, conspiratorial look with Finn before your eyes converge on Poe.

“Oh oh!”, Poe says, but the devious grin which spreads on his face suggests he’s gonna love every bit of what he’s in for, his eyes darkening with desire as you and Finn move to him in tandem.

Finn watches you drop to your knees on the blankets and crawl to Poe’s side, your eyes blazing like suns and his soft like moonlight. He hesitates before coming towards you both, simply to drink in the beauty of this for a moment, marvelling at you two as if you’re planets the galaxy has caught in its net, each trying to find something to orbit. Planets now finally slotting into their rightful trajectory amongst the stars. Finding their place.

Finn takes up his position to the other side of Poe, and he could easily become nervous. But you and Poe each take one of his hands, and he feels entirely safe, especially as the pilot’s eyes fall on him, and then you, soft and warm as he speaks in that rich, smooth tone of his. “Nothing happens that you don’t want, ‘kay? You want it to stop, we stop. How about we start this slow?”

“I understand.”. Finn’s voice is calm and certain, gathering conviction. He trusts both of you, and he knows exactly where he wants this to start. “Do you want to kiss Poe, baby?”, he suggests to you, and your teeth clamp down on your bottom lip before you respond with a breathy, unhinged “Yes.”

“Kiss him then.”, Finn encourages, a gentle, reassuring squeeze to your hand before he releases you. Knowing that you’re not going anywhere. Not getting any further away from him, only closer.

“Yeah? Can I kiss you?”, Poe asks you expectantly, as your gaze melds with his, locking-on like a starship caught by gravity. A gulp trails down his throat as you respond, voice hollowed out by how full with emotion you are.

“Yeah, you can kiss me, Poe.”

And, as soon as he has confirmation, Poe’s hands come to your hips and he abruptly and easily drags you onto his lap, your folded legs finding their place either side of his torso, your arms flying around his neck as his sudden motion knocks you off balance. Your momentum carries you through, enough that your foreheads are almost touching, your head hovering slightly above his. Poe’s strong, secure arms circle you as you straddle him, your butt seated comfortably on top of him, where his bare thighs press hot on yours.

If he pulled you to him abruptly, held you to him instantly, his lips seem to take an eternity to find yours, your stunted breaths mingling in the tight space between one another. His head tips up to you achingly slowly as your breath hitches, hands clinging desperately to one another, so many years of friendship about to collapse in on itself; not to die, but to emerge in a supernova. Poe’s lips hover, then brush feather light over yours at first, as if he has waited so long for this that he has forgotten how to do anything but wait. His tongue probes next, sliding experimentally along your bottom lip, your hands fisting in each other’s shirts as your mouth parts to grant him access.

The full kiss which blooms next is a certainly an explosion. An impassioned, tender, hungry press of lips and fingers winding in hair and hips writhing against one another as tongues mingle wildly and bodies embrace. This is a kiss fuelled by emotion, where desire suddenly learns to becomes physicality. Where souls so connected grasp to translate the language they’ve spoken together for so long into their bodies. Where you and Poe rewrite your practiced shorthand and speak to one another in a new tongue.

You break, breathless, and your eyes filled with tears. Poe looks up at you, eyes shining similarly, his brow furrowing in concern as he sees the emotion evident. Still, he doesn’t have to ask if you’re good, even as a tear rolls down your cheek, because it is accompanied by a broad smile, just like sunshine, the rays of it warming him all the way to his bones. (But he doesn’t want to think about bones.)

Smiling, still holding each other, you lean your foreheads together and swivel your gaze towards Finn.

“Oh damn, that’s was… beautiful.”, Finn expresses softly, emotion glinting in his eyes too.

You reach a palm out to Finn’s cheek again, drinking-in the sight of him in the low light as if you are blown away by him. “Your eyes look like Starshine, baby.”

Sunshine, Moonshine, and Starshine.

Yeah, that could work, Finn thinks. That could definitely work, alright.

Finn’s smile beams back at you. “Also, that was hot. Damn hot. Oh damn.”

You laugh warmly and happily, the sound lilting over both Poe and Finn’s.

You look down at Poe as he delivers a gentle hum, and proceeds in an equally gentle yet chiding tone. “Oh, Finn. Honey. There’s so much more where that came from.”

Poe looks at Finn ravenously, and you shift obligingly off of the pilot’s lap so he can move to him, with a look in his eyes which tells you the parting will be short lived.

Both men come to stand on their knees, pressing their bodies together, stomach to stomach, chest to chest. Poe deliberately winds his hand around the nape of Finn’s neck and grips him firmly there as asks the same, breathy question he had to you. “Can I kiss you?”.

Finn responds keenly, affirmatively, and Poe dives in, the kiss sinking all the way through Finn just like moonshine, warming and blazing all the way to the pit of him until he feels like a shooting star has trailed right through his body and left its tailing glow behind. Before too long, Finn feels your weight shifting on the makeshift bed too as his mouth continues to moves hungrily against Poe’s. Finn and Poe break as you rise from your position, coming to press your chest against Poe’s back and hooking your head over his shoulder as your arms circle your two boys.

Poe looks made-up to be sandwiched in between the two of you, Finn notices, before he leans over the pilot’s shoulder to kiss you just as hungrily. In fact, Poe looks positively delighted to be smack bang in the middle of your togetherness. Between you, but not as a barrier.

Poe practically growls as the wet, delicate smacks of yours and Finn’s tongues and lips working against each other filter straight into the shell of his ear. He groans deliciously as you add light hums of satisfaction, the kiss expanding outward, like the galaxy, to engulf him too. “If you two keep making those delicious noises in my ear than you’re going to get me excited.”

Finn breaks from you to smile at Poe, gently pressing his hips forward, up against the pilot’s arousal. “You mean this isn’t you excited already?”, Finn grins, with a tick of his eyebrow.

“Just warming up, Starshine.”, Poe purrs, eyes half-moons from beneath his long lashes.

Finn beams at the new nickname, his chest shaking lightly with a deep, rumbling laughter as he trails his lips over Poe’s in a kiss once again. As lips meld once more, Finn realises that while some people may search for their other half, he had been searching for his two-thirds. He has found two people he wants to belong to, to have belong to him. And now that he has found them, he feels entirely complete.

After so long with no-one, if anyone deserves two someones it has to be Finn. And his heart is certainly big enough to love this much. He’s been waiting a long time for somewhere to put all the love he saved up, while he was in that place where nobody loved anything. Now, it’s finally overflowing.

The three of you dissolve into one another, feeling like you’re on to something good. Something very good indeed.

To be continued (concluding part up next)

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#poe dameron x reader #finn x reader #poe x finn #polyamorous!poe #finnpoe #stormpilot #finn fluff #poe dameron fluff #star wars fluff #star wars x reader #poe dameron #poe x finn x reader #poe x male reader #finn x male reader #poe x fem reader #finn x fem reader #poe x gender neutral reader #finn x gender neutral reader

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icyharrington · 5 years ago

Text

Is It Wrong?- THE PREQUEL- Part 1 (Michael Langdon X Reader)

so basically,,,, i took my adhd meds for class this morning, and then suddenly got super inspired to write this, so i figured i couldnt waste the focus and wrote this whole ass thing in a few hours. this is the first part of a 3-part prequel series, which details the events leading up to the first part of iiw! just a whole lot more teen angst, drama, fuckboy michael, and more... there isn’t going to be any SMUT smut for obvious reasons, but in a future part there is going to be some dirty stuff ;) anyway i know this will prob flop but this is the first full length fic i’ve written in months and i had a lot of fun writing it, so ima post regardless ^__^

plot: things are turning upside for you now that the biggest fuckboy in school, michael langdon, is about to become your stepbrother. if you think shit is crazy now, wait til you find out that this is just the prequel 😏

warnings: underage drinking, talk of sexual shit, teen angst, sexual tension, taboo relationships

wc: 4.2k

It wasn’t like you didn’t want your dad to be happy.

You did, of course you did.

You’d seen him, engulfed in his loneliness, floating from day to listless day like some kind of cheesy Victorian spectre. Too many times you’d found him alone at night, one hand cradling a glass of sewer-brown liquor, the other thumbing through worn photo albums extracted from dust-ridden shelves in the living room. You hadn’t known your mother well- she’d died back when you were still in diapers, but what you did know was that she’d been a vibrant light in your father’s world that had been unjustly snuffed out in its prime. He was a good father to you, and you knew you made him happy despite the dull ache ever-present in his heart, but it was evident that deep down he craved a companionship you could never provide.

So of course you were glad when he met Miriam. Of course you were glad when you’d seen his beaming smile, sharing the news, with the giddiness of a teenage girl in love, that he’d found somebody. He was practically glowing, that night he’d gone out for their first date. You’d known it’d been special to him, because he’d shelled out a few hundred to treat them both to a fancy dinner; he’d even gotten her a bouquet of flowers on the drive there.

You hadn’t said anything when he’d gushed to you the next day about how he’d found the one, despite having known her for only a week; sure, he was rushing into things, but at least he was happy! And that was all you wanted- for him to be happy.

That was why you were especially crushed when you finally met Miriam’s teenage son, whom your father had briefly mentioned with a passing “he goes to your high school, maybe you know him”.

There were so many boys at your school that it was impossible to guess who your potential stepbrother might be. The prospect that you might know him didn’t bother you too much, though you did think it might be a little awkward upon first meeting, but really what did it matter? A little bit of teenage shyness was a small price to pay for your father’s newfound happiness.

That is, until you met him.

So really, it wasn’t like you didn’t want your dad to be happy.

That wasn’t the case at all.

You just really, really, wished he’d fallen in love with anyone other than the mother of Michael fucking Langdon.

ii.

“Oh, you’re so pretty,” Miriam gushed over a glass of Chardonnay, which had already been defaced with aubergine lip prints around the golden rim. “Gosh, I just wish I had your hair. Mine was fried from years of coloring, so I just chopped it all off!”

You smiled sweetly, observing your father’s glimmering eyes as he hung onto every word that rolled off her tongue, menus still stacked neatly in the middle of the table as you awaited the fourth and final guest. The three of you had been there for fifteen minutes already, and still her son had not arrived.

I guess his study session is running late, she’d explained, after seeing your furrowed brows at her lack of accompaniment. It was the first time you were meeting your father’s new love interest and her son, and you were rapidly growing more and more anxious in anticipation of the big reveal.

Studying, you’d thought, racking your brain. So maybe he’s one of the nerdy teacher’s pet types? You could certainly live with that; there were a great deal of others you could think of who would be far worse to potentially become step-siblings with.

“Thanks, Ms… Mead, did you say it was?”

You weren’t sure you knew of any boys whose last name was Mead; he definitely had to be someone you hardly knew.

“Oh, honey, call me Miriam,” she said warmly, and you nodded, unsure of what to say next.

Miriam was certainly not what you’d imagined your father’s girlfriend to be like, not that you cared either way; she sported short, dark hair with vampy makeup, clad in all black with a tasteful leather jacket to match. She was also a bit older than you’d anticipated, with fine lines adorning her rounded face, but again, none of that mattered to you at all. She seemed perfectly sweet, and you had no complaints about her thus far.

“Okay, Miriam,” you said, feeling somewhat peculiar addressing an adult by their first name, “so, remind me, how’d you guys meet again?”

“Well, it’s a funny story, really,” Miriam chuckled, plucking a dinner roll from the woven basket across from her and dropping it onto her plate. Her dark eyes shifted from you to your father, poising an impeccably groomed raven brow. “Should you tell it, or should I?”

“Oh, you should, definitely,” your father said, sipping his wine.

“Okay, okay. Well, we were in the meat section at the grocery store when we both reached for the last steak on sale. So I looked at him, and I told him- oh my, this is embarrassing- (your dad’s name), you finish!”

Your father looked like he was about to bust out into laughter, and, suppressing a snort, he blurted, “she said she’d cut off my hands if I took it!”

Immediately after the words left his lips, the two fell into boisterous hysterics that ushered forward a few disapproving glances from the stuffy rich assholes at the next table over, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little yourself. Well… she definitely was a character, but as long as your father was being kept entertained…

“Hey mom,” came a sudden, inappropriately loud male voice from behind you, so out of place that you nearly jumped from your seat. “I was helping Dan with the world war three chapter in our textbook, he sucks at geography shit.”

The voice’s owner revealed himself as a tall, blond boy, who promptly slid into the empty chair beside you, chiseled face slightly obscured by the deep shadows resulting from the dimness of the restaurant’s ambient lighting.

This was, indeed, somebody that you knew, and you blinked twice to be sure that your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

It took you a few seconds to register the direness of the situation at hand, but once the thought processed in your mind, you about descended into an out-of-body experience.

This couldn’t be.

No way.

No motherfucking way.

You’d never been all too much of a religious person, but in that moment, you found yourself silently begging whatever higher power was out there that this was all just some sick, cosmic prank.

The boy turned his head to give you a good, uncomfortably long look, stupidly perfect mouth twisting into an amused sideways grin, and then he spoke. “Ohh shit, (y/n)? (Y/n) (y/l/n)?”

He spoke your name like it was a punchline, tongue darting out to lick his teeth like a lizard about to gobble up some poor, helpless cricket as you sat there with your jaw unhinged. You were at a loss for words, or at least almost, managing to croak out a pathetic, puny, “Michael.”

“Oh, good! You guys know each other already!” Miriam exclaimed, seemingly oblivious to the complete and utter horror that had just about finished swallowing you whole.

Michael let out a snort, roughly translating to ‘uhh, yeah, not that well… I’d never be caught dead hanging around with someone like (y/n)’, and you grimaced. “Yeah, a little bit. You were in math class with me last year, right?”

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to regain your composure for fear of feeding into this complete asshole’s already massive ego. Yeah, in fact, you had been in math class with him last year, and, not-so-coincidentally, that very same class had turned out to be the one you dreaded the most.

Michael Langdon was the most insufferable, mind-numbing, self-obsessed asshole that you’d ever had the displeasure of knowing; he was easily the most popular boy in the grade, and it was clear he was fully aware of his own high school bullshit prestige. He was loud, cocky and obnoxious; the type of fuckboy- yes, you knew the word fuckboy was overplayed, but in this case there was no other way to describe him- who’d loudly brag about his sexual escapades in the middle of the hallway to his flock of adoring fuckboy minions. He was an I-don’t-do-relationships type, a U-up-text-at-3am type, a Yo-dude-did-you-see-Zoe-Benson’s-tits-today type, a bro-I’m-so-fucking-baked-right-now type. Just the sound of his voice from across a crowded hallway was enough to make you physically recoil. And the worst part?

Every-fucking-body loved him.

Your complaints about him during lunch would only result in your friends cooing dreamily, as though he were some kind of sympathetic creature that needed babying: But he’s so cute, they’d say, twirling locks of their hair and fiddling with their bracelets. I’m sure he’s not that bad.

But he was that bad, and if they took off their shit-stained, teenage hormone-clouded rose tinted glasses for only a second, they’d see exactly what you saw.

It wasn’t only the students, either. He was able to get away with everything and anything he pleased, whether it be sneaking sips of vodka in a water bottle between classes or ditching class to smoke a joint behind the bleachers. There’d even been rumors that he’d fucked some senior girl in the handicap stall during the autumn pep rally while the rest of the student body was packed like sardines in the sticky-hot gymnasium, subjected to incremental barks from the football coach to scream louder and louder.

How the hell was somebody as pleasant as Miriam the mother of such an incurable douchebag? And how, in all the unholy realms of hell, did your luck get so miserably bad that she ended up with your father?

It was all so fucking unfortunate that you almost wanted to laugh. And you probably would have, if not for the chance that you might puke all over your nice new sweater if you opened your mouth.

“You smell funny, hon,” said Miriam before you could reply. “Was Dan burning incense in his room?”

Oh, god. So she was one of those oblivious parents. You rolled your eyes; it made a lot of sense when you thought about it.

“Huh? Oh. Um, yeah. Incense,” Michael said, before suddenly extending his arm across the table to your father. “Oh shit, how rude of me. I’m Michael. Nice to meet you, man.”

Your father seemed unfazed my Michael’s distinct lack of manners as he accepted the boy’s hand and shook it, and you felt yet another knot twist up in the pit of your stomach as you realized that your father, too, had somehow been cast under Michael’s spell.

“Michael, we talked about this,” Miriam said under her breath, like she was scolding a child who didn’t know any better. “Keep the potty mouth to a minimal when we’re out in public, especially while we’re in such a nice restaurant.”

“Oh, sh…oot, sorry, mom,” Michael said with a faux-sheepish smile, his eyes flickering with amusement despite his supposed remorse. “And sorry to you too, sir. Bad habits.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mike- can I call you Mike?” your father said as they released hands, moving his to rest atop Miriam’s on the cloth-sheathed table. “I remember what it was like being a boy your age.”

You scoffed, loud enough that the table fell silent for a moment, and quickly you disguised it with a cough. Your cheeks went hot as all eyes laid on you, and you frantically scanned your brain for something to fill the silence with.

“So, um,” you said, clearing your throat. “Michael’s, uh, how come Michael’s last name isn’t Mead?”

Fuck. That sounded so fucking stupid. Instinctively, you felt your eyes wander to Michael to see if he was laughing at you, which you hated yourself for; why should his stupid, pea-brained opinion mean anything to you anyway? As much as you wanted to distance yourself from that idiotic, made-up high school hierarchy, you always wound up finding yourself being sucked back in, it seemed.

“Well, my late husband’s last name was Langdon, and since he was kind of a dirtbag, I decided not to keep his name after he passed,” Miriam said slowly, as if taking very careful thought to word herself correctly. You took in a breath; this seemed like a whole new can of worms that you hadn’t meant to open up.

“Hey, c’mon, don’t talk about dad like that,” said Michael, his tone only half-playful, eyebrow cocking as he flashed his mother a knowing look.

“You try being cheated on multiple times, Michael. Then you’ll see that dirtbag is really a nice way of putting it.”

Oh, sure, you thought bitterly. As if Michael fucking Langdon is even remotely capable of understanding someone else’s pain.

You took this as your cue to stand up from your seat, mumbling something about needing to use the restroom before scurrying off in the opposite direction as fast as you could without drawing attention to yourself. If ten minutes with Michael as your psuedo-stepbrother got to you this badly, you could only imagine how awful your life was about to get.

You could only hope that your father would find some reason to nip things in the bud with Miriam, but right now, that appeared to be an unlikely prospect.

iii.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t end my shit right here and now,” you griped to your best friend, who sat crosslegged on your bed as you stood idly before your floor-length mirror, arms dangling limply at your sides in an unintentional stance of defeat. Your face was one that you hardly recognized anymore, forehead creased with worry and eyes shadowed by bruise-colored rings from a seemingly endless barrage of sleepless nights; a week ago, your father had gleefully announced his and Miriam’s engagement; you of course, as his loving daughter, had to behave as though you hadn’t just received the worst news of your life, which somehow you’d pulled off (for a second you wondered why you’d never taken up theater, seeing at how convincing your acting could be sometimes). It was like you’d been plucked from the familiarity of your boring, normal world and dropped into your own personally tailored hell without any warning at all, though you couldn’t think of a single thing you’d done bad enough to warrant you deserving this. “The worst person on the planet is about to be my fucking stepbrother and nobody else seems to think this is a big deal!”

Your best friend shook her head, letting out a snort as if any of this was even remotely funny in the slightest. “So your stepbrother is hot and cool and he pisses you off. They literally make porn about that.”

You resisted the urge to take her by the shoulders and shake her until some semblance of sense entered her head, instead shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans with a loud huff. “Yeah, but this isn’t fucking pornhub, (best friend’s name), this is real life! And I’d rather skin myself alive than sleep with that walking STD.”

“You have a lot more self respect than I do. It’s admirable,” she said, still startlingly calm for your liking, and you were beginning to believe that she’d never understand the mental turmoil you were currently suffering with. “Personally I’d ride him into the sunset, whether he had a herpes dick or not.”

You gagged, shaking your head with adamant disgust. Was she really that fucking horny? “You’re sick, you know that?”

“Sick for diiiiick,” she sang back, batting her eyelashes playfully at you. You turned away, scrounging up every weary shred of self restraint within you not to scream.

“Look, (b/f/n). I’m being serious right now. If you fuck him, or suck his dick, or whatever, I will literally never speak to you again.” Your tone was stern, and you faced her again to see whether your seriousness had computed in the hormonal wasteland that was her brain. There was an extended pause as she blinked at you, tilting her head to one side thoughtfully as she chewed her lipgloss-slick bottom lip.

“I mean, he wouldn’t fuck me anyways,” she finally said, still infuriatingly chipper. “I’m nobody. And he’s, like, royalty.”

“Jesus fucking Christ! I don’t care whether you think you have a chance with him!” You realized too late that you were nearly shouting, so you took in a shaky gulp of oxygen and coaxed yourself to soften your tone. The last thing you needed right now was for people to think you were losing your mind, although sometimes that was exactly what you felt like was happening. “Please, just promise me you won’t? I just need one aspect of my life not to involve him. Please?”

“Okay, fine,” she said, drawing her knees to her chest and settling her chin on top. “If it really matters that much to you, I’ll just shift my thirst to Dan Mott instead. That boy is a fucking snack and a half.”

A wave of almost-relief cascaded over your body, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself become one with this momentary victory.

One year. Just one stupid, insignificant year until I can go away to college and forget all about him.

If you could survive that much, you told yourself, you’d be able survive anything.

You just hoped that intoxicating spell of his wasn’t strong enough to bring your best friend into his web of bullshit, alongside all the other girls who’d become entangled along the way.

If she did, you’d be stranded, left to run from Michael and his ever-expanding army all on your own.

iv.

In what seemed like a blink of an eye, the dreaded date of your father’s wedding ceremony arrived; now you stood amidst a small group of distant relatives at the subdued reception party, seeking refuge from the disturbing thought that, legally, Michael Langdon was now your brother, at the open bar.

You and your best friend had decided to make something of a game out of how many drinks you could finagle from the bartender without any adults noticing, which had ultimately proved to be pointless- an hour into the reception, your father had staggered over with two overflowing dirty Shirleys, thrusting them towards the two of you with a big, sloppy grin on his face.

To say he was in a good mood would be a severe understatement- the man was jovial, and you almost felt guilty for hating the circumstances of his marriage so much. By the raised-brow looks your best friend had been shooting at you all night, you knew she was thinking the same thing: that you were being selfish for worrying so much about yourself when this was the best thing that’d happened to your father in years. And maybe it was true; maybe you’d been so wrapped up in your own teen angst bullshit that you’d willingly blinded yourself from the truth. So, with your father’s beaming face dancing in the back of your mind, you pushed any thought about Michael back to the dredges where they belonged.

Fuck Michael Langdon. You couldn’t allow him the satisfaction of knowing that you were distraught, though you’d surely already made that pretty obvious over the past few months (he’d wasted no time in taunting you about it, seeming to relish in your death glares and eye rolls- hey, future sis! he’d crooned at you as you passed his table in the cafeteria one afternoon, nearly causing you to trip and spill your perfectly mediocre iced coffee all over yourself as his friends cackled like demented hyenas).

I’m not gonna let him bother me anymore.

I’m not-

“SIS-TERRRRRR!”

Okay, this had to be some kind of divine test of will.

A blazer-glad arm flung itself around your shoulders and you flinched, immediately jerking away from your intoxicated stepbrother (god, it felt weird to refer to him that way) whose brash motions had sent you both stumbling.

“Getting shitfaced at your mom’s wedding… classy,” you spat, crossing your arms in front of your chest and narrowing your eyes at the blond-haired boy.

He was, admittedly, good-looking (only by conventional standards, of course); his lightly gelled blond hair had long since come undone, now soft and unkempt from hours of attention-whorish dancing, but you thought the disheveled look suited him better anyway (since his whole thing was to look like a grimy, rugged fuckboy, not because you personally found it attractive, obviously). He’d undone the top few buttons of his white top (no doubt the only formal article of clothing he owned), which was now stained beyond foreseeable repair with a colorful variety of liquids, and there was a bead of sweat traveling from his slick forehead to his model-sharp jaw. Even in disarray, he looked good, and you couldn’t help but hate him for it.

“God, you are so uptight,” he said, pale eyes flickering towards the multicolored ceiling in exaggerated annoyance as he dragged out his syllables with leisure. “You need to relax, set up a dick appointment or something. Or pussy appointment, I don’t know what you’re into.”

Your mouth fell open at this remark, too stunned by his vulgarity to even get angry with your friend, who had dissolved into a fit of giggles beside you; it wasn’t that you were some pearl-clutching grandmother- you had no issue discussing sexual matters with your friends, and in fact some would even say you had a perverted sense of humor. But this? This was different: something about the way those words had fallen from Michael’s mouth made you feel dirty.

At your lack of response, Michael flashed a pearly grin that could only be categorized as evil, and he crossed his arms to mimic your stance. “Oh, sorry. I forgot that you’re probably still a virgin.”

He glanced over to your friend, whose feeble attempts to suppress her second wave of laughter had proven unsuccessful, before averting his gaze back to you. “Aw, don’t feel bad, (y/n). There’s nothing wrong with being a late bloomer.”

Then, as if to punctuate his words, he smirked.

Your mouth pressed into a thin line, you felt something like a storm swirling inside of you, winds thick and unyielding and relentless, and you were almost positive that you’d tear him apart once the feeling aligned with the rest of your body.

It was then that the song blaring through the speakers switched to something inappropriately upbeat, each thump of the dance-friendly bass feeling like punches to the gut.

The storm inside you hadn’t been giving way to anger at all; it was sadness you were feeling in your belly, hopeless and humiliated sadness, though you couldn’t quite understand why: he’d made some stupid, generic joke to try and get a rise out of you- what else was new these days? Maybe it was the fact that your best friend was, by her passiveness and obvious amusement at your expense, encouraging his taunts when she was supposed to be there for you. Or maybe the reality had finally, finally sunken in, that this kind of interaction with Michael would now consume your life for the next year.

Either way, it didn’t make a difference, and as if on cue, the familiar sting of unshed tears arrived patiently at the back of your eyes.

All at once you were were dizzy; Michael’s perfect face was doubling and distorting before your eyes, and your friend’s pitched laughter rang like incessant, robotic television static in your ears.

With very last straw of self preservation you could grasp, you said nothing at all, walking away with the dazed sluggishness of a zombie on autopilot.

You considered yourself lucky; soon enough, you wouldn’t have the luxury of walking away at all.

“She’s too sensitive,” you heard your friend say, faintly, in the background of your thoughts.

You didn’t have the energy to wonder why she wasn’t coming with you, much less the energy to chastise her for being a bad friend, which was what you knew she deserved. If she cared more about getting Michael’s attention than preserving her friendship with you, you supposed there was no use in trying to stop her anymore.

He’s like a disease, you thought as you ambled your way towards the bathroom, surrounded by people but yet still so alone. He’s like a disease, infecting everyone he touches.

It was only a matter of time, you supposed, before he got to you, too.

Who knew? Maybe he already had.

tagging some people from my old iiw tag list!: (i’m sorry if i tagged anyone twice, i’m literally half asleep right now cuz i got like 2 hours of sleep in the past 24 hrs lol) @wroteclassicaly @ritualmichael @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @trelaney @kissydevil @sloppy-wrist @michael-langdon-appreciation @ccodyfern @sojournmichael @starwlkers @maso-xchrist @space-princesssss @ahslangdon101 @isabellaserpentiawesson @stupidocupido @bademliimagnum @nana15774 @urlocalgothb @hexqueensupreme @gold-dragon-slayer @langdonsboots @langdonstrash @fckinsupreme @hisgirlwonder @venusxxlangdon @obsessivenostalgicbaby @kleinegamerin @lambofcairo @kiiteiru @littledemondani @beriveri @grossgayartist @featherpool-852 @discocalico @cryptid-coalition @nu-tt @diamcndscarred @chocolateandhorror @michaelsfrenchtoast @sarcasticbxtch20 @ringpop-poppy @imjustasadhoe @melodylangdon @codycrazy @perfect-ginger-maniac @baphomet-wears-gucci @bigstudentpatrolbonk @jazzcowgirl @a-n-t-s @langdonsblood @ritualmichael @myluciferiscody @fentycoven @gracebtw @bongwaternation @king-of-mischief-and-bitchez @hoseokchild @witchywcmans @satanicbimbo @lvngdvns @langdonskillerqueen @aradevil @anemia-doll @muralskins @funtomimagines @mrssgtjamesbuckybarnes @our-mrlangdon @lotsofhunny @sevenwonderwitch @horrorstreet @kpopmademedo-it @naughtygranger @codyshands @krazycags01 @skullag

#michael langdon #is it wrong #michael langdon x reader #mine #michael langdon fic #ahs #american horror story #apocalypse #ahs apocalypse #cody fern #x reader #ahs x reader

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gleeandshame · 4 years ago

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Semi-liveblogging

A New York Christmas Wedding, indie Netflix movie... All I know is it’s on Netflix, there’s not a trailer, and uh, it’s wlw??? SPOILERS below!

WTF did they say “you’re not my girlfriend”

“She can’t know you like me” and then immediate fornication, I Do Not Want

Okay, we’re expecting like Lifetime or Hallmark Channel levels of writing on this I see...

Wait did she say her best friend died? Or I wasn’t paying attention. From watching later uh, maybe she said they lost touch, i mean, a BFF would be like the person Who you would think it would be but...

Asian wlw extras!!! intimacy :’)

(Wonder if she’ll be bi or gay)

Blah blah, mom is insufferable

Oh but so... is this a called off wedding then, I guess it’s her wedding, like that’s what the signs point to... huuuh.... Like, I hope there’s not cheating involved or I’ll be very :/

Wow, sassy BFF gay angel, lol

“You shouldn’t under estimate love during Christmas”

Here comes gay supernatural sh*t (at least I hope)

Gay angel, is she just gonna see 1000 gay signs tomorrow? Lol

I sincerely forgot his name, like Abziel or something, I’m sorry gay angel

oh right, i kept thinking they would be cold, but this is 6 mo before Christmas. today is a really chilly night for me

Azrael, I was close. I only remember it because it’s marked by the captions

Her fiance does have a nice back though

hate when there’s unnecessary flashback v.o. in stuff, just have a thoughtful look, feel okay with being quiet!!!

OH MY GOSH TRANSPORTED TO A GAY LIFE, I f*cking love it!!!

the light pouring in from the window and it’s looking all foggy.

They have a dog named Smudge :’)

Oh my gosh they’re having a meeting with a reverand or something for their gay wedding???

her tentativly grabbing the leash, i’m hear for this, thank you gay angel, there are endless amount of signs!!! lol.

I love smudges eyebrows!!!!

Oh thank you A... Azrael, i forgot Jennifer’s name for the whole movie (okay i took a couple hour break but still)

OKAY, the best friend is dead, or WAS dead. i was like how is this gonna work out, oooh.

This is rated MA and I think maybe just from cussing? We’ll see. So far she has said f*ck, lol

Those Christmas pajamas were corny, but it’s a family so that’s allowed. Bye David.

I hope I have a gay guardian angel

He said others are alive. is she gonna see her dad?

ghost of gays past

gosh dang it a flashback... it’s okay, it’s hopefully you know an inexperienced writer or filmmakers and they can get better.

I hope her dad is there

Oh but I forgot to mention since i wasn’t liveblogging from the start, uuuuuhhhh, why did she throw the cookies away, she was still there and her dad. Teens are so dramatic

where’s the dog? did she return the dog and go to her dads... wait, no he’s driving her home, Did they not want a dog in the car... lol

smudge? Smudge??? Lol. okay, i’ll ignore the filmmaking and continuity aspect.

Slide show interesting

Oh really noticing the handheld shakiness right now though

did that girl really sing it? doesn’t look like that voice comes out of that body

gays in a church, i’m feeling emotional (I know they’re not necessarily gay I’m using it as an umbrella term)

“you are my queen and I am your peasant” - this is like who’s the handmaiden and who’s the feudal lord meme, lol

why would a pastor.... whatever they’re call had a picture of just two church goers... parishioners? (can you tell I’m not catholic, are they catholic?)

Dang, they gonna fight to have a wedding here? Like personally if he said sh*t I would want to be married by him, but I guess the location does mean a lot to them.

They really be throwing Jennifer into this talk with no clue. Azrael give a girl some hints!!

Did the priest tell her to get an abortion? That’s the implication right? He wouldn’t say it though. Dang.

Eeesh, is this the f*ckboy that was with ... Gabby in the beginning? Never heard a boy trying to be a unicorn in a wlw relationship. Yike....

lol, yeah she told him to f*ck himself. and punched him in the face, LOOOOL

Awww, she told her dad about her crush on her BFF???

Lol, Jennifer getting excited about talking to her dad, and Gabby is like, babe, u see him everyday

Aw, a song in spanish

i didn’t mention earlier but afro-latinx yaaa. Noice

hmmm, yeah i mean it would be a little awkward bringing up a childhood/teenage fight

being forced to read the note by gabby and saying “out loud” nice device to make it natural to the audience

smudge is my favorite character

lol sorry, but if it’s christmas, is it christmas christmas, i don’t want this to be over. can she at least make out with her wife! is this day one or day two :/ okay i’ll just watch and see

DANG THAT WOULD BE INTIMATE ARM TOUCHES FOR A BFF

i only snuggled like once on a bed with one of mine.

O Christmas Tree playing during this make out is killing me

that was soft. just making out and some but rubbing but all just in undies, that’s nice

ok i think father is gonna do the old switcheroo on us. but this verse is engaging my fight or flight

Entertaining how neutral all these ppl’s faces are during this sermon, like realistic, lol....

okay there’s like one smile. there’s nodding now

(i know ppl would be upset realistically too)

Oh snap a man is walking out, okay yeah. There’s maybe three

LOL. I really did walk out once during a slippery slope sermon. Hate that white man took over one of my churches and he wasn’t even certified. I just sat on the curb until closing worship.... mmmm

did this man just invite all the lgbtq ppl up??

I wouldn’t want that attention, LOOOL........ i get it’s supposed to be a nice moment but, what?

They all have partners? Dang, where’s my partner at church (lol, church is hardly a thing anymore right now anyway :’) )

I DON”T want no SURPRISE WEDDING THAT IS JUST IN FORNT OF CHURCH PPL

glad they acknowledged that looong pause in a natural way

Imagine trying to attnd christmas service, and then it’s a secret wlw wedding

One of the gay couples, I”M SCREAMING, looks like a married couple at my current church, lol. I mean not like exactly, but same essense and energies

That SLITTTT, what a power move for a wedding dress / reception dress

Very weird lighting but i’ll ignore it

u don’t need to applaud the priest...

“to the day i die” (to the day i die) echo, echo... , that’s some corny audio

OH my goshhh??? is he the aborted BABY, whaiuhufheruahcyuahdsbhabshdfbahsbdfa

or their dead baby, whatever it was unclear on purpose. oh myy gosh????

what the f*ck david coming to get Jennifer like a horror movie

“what’s a smudge”

hmm i wonder how this can conclude

that map i huge on the console??? i don’t know modern cars

Gabrielle and I were mar-- we were baptized. LOLL, why woudl they just give away info about a parishioner

David must just be like, wtf is she on

oh okay, no abortion, just miscarriage

What, huhhh. this lady is same sex married too??? but the priest was kicked out?

is david gonna be biphobic

oh i guess not, that’s good

sliding doors? by Gbby’s son, Jennifer needs to get her girl

Me saying this show needs to let there be silence vs me almost falling asleep while she makes a decision. I MEAN, to be fair it’s almost 6am and i haven’t slept yet, lol

okay, but we didn’t spend enough time with Azrael for me to be sad that he’ll be gone, sorry not sorry

“it can wait” ... i.e. love can wait, be careful, i.e. use a condom

that’s entirely too many candy canes

i wonder if these kids are gonna have to carry the rest of the film?

these kids are the most chill! good they both like women and each other

they 3d printed a man just so he could be a gay angel

OH NO I watchd to the end of the credits and the guy on piano died this year

okay, so overall, p cute. Cute enough. It probably satisfied only about 33% of my cute wlw quota though. Corny and a bit awkward, but, i think gays deserve not high quality cinema as well. Lol. i half recommmend it, but it’s not costing you antyhing but time on Netflix.

okay, I sleep

#a new york christmas wedding #a new york christmas wedding spoilers #spoilers #...#mmmmmm

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gloves94 · 4 years ago

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To Be So Lonely [Draco Malfoy] 10

Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Draco Malfoy/OC Chapter warnings: Fluff! Angst!

Raised as an orphan, Nel Saintday, endured years of torture from the Slytherin House. The Dark Lord only allowed her existence for her to serve a very specific vile purpose for him. Her birthright dictates for her to choose a side in the Wizarding War… But what would happen if she dares defy the Dark Lord and his wishes? And what happens when she falls for her tormentor? Will Nel fulfill her life’s purpose? And what side will her tormentor, Draco Malfoy, choose? The light that calls to him or the darkness…

CHAPTER MASTERLIST MY MASTERLIST

"Malfoy?" Tracey said loudly.

Nel nodded her head bitterly, arms crossed over her chest as the two made way to the dinning hall for dinner.

"Draco Malfoy?" She repeated in her obnoxiously loud voice. It seemed like his name was the only word she was capable of saying because of the shock.

"Shush!" She elbowed her friend. Throwing a suspicious glance around the corridor hoping nobody else had heard.

"And why- are you doing this again?"

"Because he knows something about my past and I'm pretty sure it's true. Trust me I'd much rather write to his father personally and ask or drug him with some veritaserum but even then the potion doesn't guarantee us any answers."

The two sat down on the table and put their bags aside when Theodore came running into the Great Hall and practically slid in the seat across from them.

"You're going to Hogsmeade with MALFOY?!" He exclaimed. He seemed to be out of breath.

Nel's eyes scanned the room. "Wow, news sure does travel fast 'round here," she shook her head.

"Are you okay?" He asked concerned. "Are you ill? Dying?" He reached over the table and placed a hand on her forehead.

"Just dandy," she grumbled irritated before sticking a potato into her mouth.

"How'd you know?" Tracey arched an eyebrow as she drank her pumpkin juice.

"Malfoy was bragging to the lads back at the dormitory."

Nel rolled her eyes. "Of course," She shook her head. "Those idiots are only fascinated by me because they think I'm related to Salazar Slytherin."

Nel's bored expression fixed across the dinning hall to a very awkward interaction between Lupin and Snape. Nott and Davis blinked at each other exchanging a look.

"But you are-" They said in unison.

"Nope, I'm not," she said more in denial before getting her mouth busy and taking a huge bite out of a bread roll. Being related to Slytherin himself meant being related to You-Know-Who and that… That was not possible. It wasn't something Nel wanted to even think about it.

"But you are-" Tracey insisted. "You're a Parselmouth."

"So?" She retorted irritated. "So's Potter and he's not related to Slytherin as far as we know."

"Yeah, but You-Know-Who gave it to him." "Well maybe he did something to me to!" She snapped at her two friends. The two inched away from her exchanging a worried look. "Sorry," She lowered her head and put her utensils down after her outburst. "This… This is why I'm entertaining Malfoy. Maybe the persons who left me at the abbey, maybe they were my parents. It's a big clue." She explained.

Theodore and Tracey had no choice but to agree.

It was then that mail was delivered and her owl, Barberry, came swooping down dropping two letters in front of her. The first was from Professor Lupin, it was written in his perfect loopy handwriting that slanted to the right.

"Ms. Saintday, Please meet me at my office after dinner. It is important. Thank you. - Professor R. Lupin."

Her friends commented on what could Lupin possibly want with her. She shrugged and regardless met the professor's eyes across the table and nodded.

The second letter was written in a familiar sharp handwriting.

"E, Front of the castle. Tomorrow. Noon. - D'

"Ooooh, how mysterious," Tracey joked reading over her shoulder. "I wonder who D could possibly be," she said sarcastically.

Who did he think he was kidding?

She turned to seek Draco's eyes in the Great Hall and when she met them she crumbled the note up with her hand. He simply raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement. The slightest of curves on his lips.

Whatever, she left the dinning hall ready to meet Professor Lupin in his office.

Arriving at Lupin's office she was surprised to find Harry Potter there instead.

"Let me guess," She began. "Lupin cited you as well?" She said closing the door behind her. Swaggering down the steps of the DaDa office and sitting on top of a nearby trunk.

"Is it true you're going to Hogsmeade with Malfoy?" He asked bluntly.

Nel sighed and raised her head back before letting out a loud frustrated groan. Now even the Gryffindor boys new. IT wouldn't be long before Pansy found out and came to murder Nel. Best to be prepared for that.

"It's a long story," She rubbed her tired eyes. "He's holding something over me," she admitted quickly changing the topic. "Why is everyone so intrigued by the fact that we're going to Hogsmeade? It's not even a big deal," she shrugged.

How could anyone not be intrigued by the two of them going to Hogsmeade? Draco was the unofficial Prince of Slytherin and Nel was the potential sole living descendant of Salazar Slytherin. She was a hostile blood traitor, who kept everyone at arms length and was infamously known for her ill temper and distaste for the Slytherin boys. Specially for Malfoy whom she was usually clashing with on the daily.

"Maybe because you two hate each other? Everybody knows that."

He wasn't wrong.

"Thank you," he added. "For what you did in class the other day, but I can fight my own battles."

She huffed slightly yet said nothing. He shouldn't flatter himself like that. She really hadn't done it for him. Maybe it was best to let him think that.

"Do you recon we're in trouble?" She asked changing the topic. After all Lupin had caught her passing notes in class just the other day.

"No Ms. Saintday, nobody's in trouble. Which considering your reputation, you might find quite surprising," he smiled at her as he opened the door. She turned away from him and made a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat.

"You're probably wondering why I've gathered you two here tonight. I know it's a Friday, so I won't hold you here long," Lupin began making his way across the office. "Do you remember the lesson we had on Boggarts?" He said to the two.

Both students nodded. How could they forget? It was an awesome class. It was the most fun they had ever had in any class.

"Boggarts are shape-shifters. They take the shape of whatever a particular person fears the most. That is what makes them so terrifying," he explained.

"Professor, we already know this," Saintday interrupted with an irate look on her face. Could he just get to the point already?

"Patience Ms. Saintday," Lupin paused at the interruption. "I'm afraid you didn't get a chance at the Boggart that day, perhaps you'd like to give it a shot now?"

Nel thought of her worst fears. She eyed a trunk across the room which was violently shaking. Whatever was being kept inside desperately trying to escape. "I think I'll pass," she mumbled.

"The two of you are here since you are particularly susceptible to Dementors all things being considered, Dementors force us to relieve the worst memories of our lives. Our pain becomes their power. Which is why the two of you fainted on the train," Harry turned to look at the teen in surprised. Nel almost looked wounded by Lupin's words. She looked away from both, lowering her eyes.

Her background wasn't something she particularly enjoyed talking about.

"This is very advanced magic. Well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level," Lupin stated clearly eyeing both of the students carefully.

Why did Lupin want them both to learn how to fight Dementors? Certainly every student was in danger of Sirius Black and of the Dementors that were pursuing them, but why them two specifically? Nel understood his reasoning for brining Harry in, but her? Why would either Sirius Black or Dementors want anything to do with her? "Very well, the spell I am going to teach you is called the Patronus Charm. Ever heard of it?" He said to both.

Harry shook his head no. Nel nodded yes. Lupin extended his hand for her to elaborate. "The Patronus Charm is a spell which main but not only use id the primary protection again Dementors and other dark creatures for which there is no defense. There are two types of Patronuses. Corporal and Incorporeal." "Excellent Ms. Saintday, 10 points Slytherin. Any 6th years amongst your clients?" Lupin teased.

She shot him a look at him butting into her personal business and he chuckled a little at her hostility.

"But that's not quite it. A Patronus is a kind of positive force. For the witch or wizard who can conjure one, the Patronus works something like a shield. The Dementor feeds on it instead of him," Lupin paused as the trunk across the room rattled violently. "But in order for it to work, you must think of a memory. And not just any. This memory needs to be a very happy one. And powerful." His honey eyes darted between the two students before him.

"Think of your happiest memory and come back tomorrow after lunch. We'll begin then."

With that Lupin dismissed them.

"Know what your happiest memory is?" Harry asked as the two returned to their individual house dormitories.

"Yeah," She lied.

She had no idea.

Xxxxx

Nel didn't get much sleep last night. She had spent all night wondering just what her happiest memory was. She hated coming to the realization she didn't have one… At least not a strong one that would ward away a dementor.

All happy memories at Wool's were tainted with the memory of Lucy which in turn made them painful for her. And at Hogwarts… Sure maybe there was the memory of the day she visited Diagon Alley for the first time. Maybe even when she became friends with Tracey and Theodore, and just overall their general shenanigans.

There was one unique memory that was different from the others. It probably wouldn't be enough, but so far it was the best she had.

Xxxxx

It was Christmas even last year, 1992.

Nel had spent the evening celebrating with Harry, Hermione, Ron and his family. They had been nice enough to include her considering both her and Harry always stayed back during the winter break.

The group had been playing with sparklers and throwing snowballs at each other in the courtyard after an early. Overall it had been a fun evening. It was late when they decided to return to the Gryffindor common room, a place where she wasn't allowed. She suspected the party would go on there, but for now she was simply happy to not have been alone.

"Black Mamba," She spoke to the password which allowed her in. It was late, almost midnight by the time she got back. Walking into the emerald and black common room she was surprised to see Malfoy sitting by himself on one of the leather sofas.

It seemed like this holiday the only Slytherins that stayed behind were her, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle.

She thought it was odd that he had stayed behind. Yet she didn't question it simply not caring enough but looking at him he looked absolutely miserable. She approached him partly to get a better look at him.

He was hunched over with his head buried in his hands. Hearing her footsteps, he looked up and glared at her.

"Lost something Slugbreath?" He insulted defensively.

She kept her curious eyes on his. His face was swollen and tinted with red. Had he been crying? It was probably the first time he was away from home and alone for Christmas. She wouldn't have been surprised if the brat had really been crying.

"Are you okay?" She ignored the insult.

He looked at her surprised, taken aback by the question. Part of him was expecting her to take it back and boldly mock him.

"What do you care anyways?" He snapped kicking the low table in front of him.

He was most definitely not okay.

"Come," She said to him.

She was so used to his harsh tone and language she simply hummed, shoving her hands in her pockets before walking away back to the entrance of the common room.

He paused not moving an inch. He wasn't certain if she had really been speaking to him or not, but who else could she have meant? His father had asked him to remain at Hogwarts stating home wasn't safe due to the raids the Ministry of Magic was performing. Lucius also had to keep a trustful eye at Hogwarts now that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened. "Are you coming or not?" She called over her shoulder.

Thinking himself crazy Draco decided to follow her out of the room. Nel lead her down the dungeon's corridor and took several turns in the darkness before stopping before a small door. The door was big enough for a small person to walk through.

"Where are you taking me?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow still wearing an air of superiority around her. "This is where I'm hiding your body…" She said mysteriously.

He gave a step back, certainly not doubting this. "Just kidding!" She laughed before opening it and walking through.

The two entered the kitchen where long tables resembling the Great Hall stretched from one end to the other. Shelves and large pantries were stacked with food and other ingredients against the wall. And just around the door were dozens of small cots with tiny people sleeping on them. But wait- they weren't people, they were house elves.

"You've brought me to the servant's quarters?" Malfoy said wrinkling his nose in disgust. His eyes looked around the room pretentiously as if he had walked into a dumb instead of a kitchen. Nel doubted the boy had ever been inside of a kitchen.

"Shh!!!" She hissed him as a sleeping elf nearby stirred in his sleep. She tilted her head forward and the two advanced further into the kitchen.

She moved around the kitchen with expertise knowing were the bread and all other ingredients were located. Draco watched carefully as she prepared two sandwiches with the most peculiar ingredients turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, stuffing and- "Do you like cranberry sauce?" She stopped and whispered to him. He simply shrugged indifferent to it.

He wasn't watching out of intrigued. He was worried that she would attempt to poison him.

The two left the kitchen as quietly and as quickly as they got there. He now followed her upstairs. She held both of the large sandwiches which she had wrapped in paper in her hands.

"Why are you doing this?" He asked as they stood outside the Great Hall. By now he seemed to have forgotten about whatever had been bothering him earlier.

She shrugged carelessly, almost like he had when she had asked him if he liked cranberry sauce or not.

"Why not? It's Christmas Eve, good deeds count extra tonight. And let's be real, I've been pretty bad this year," She smiled a little. "I've got a lot of self-redemption to do." She was lying and he wasn't biting. She knew what it was like to be alone, specially during Christmas. She knew how painful it could be to be so lonely. "I don't need your pity," he narrowed his eyes in mistrust. "Fine," She shrugged again and handed him his sandwich with eyes filled with contempt. "Have it your way." She said before turning away and back in the direction of the Slytherin dormitories.

"No, wait-" He reached for her arm holding her back. The thought of being alone on Christmas was haunting to him. He felt lonely and Crabbe and Goyle weren't always the best company to keep around. Maybe she was being sincere. It was a risk he'd have to take.

Nel opened the door to the Great Hall and stepped in, he followed and marbled at the decorations. In the absolute darkness of the night the massive tree at the end seemed to be glowing with hundreds of golden lights. The night sky was still enchanted to make it seem as if snow was falling down. Yet the stars were still visible above. "Pretty. Isn't it?"

Without another word Nel took a seat on top of a dining table and unwrapped her sandwich. After a long day of throwing snowballs this was just what the doctor had ordered. He did the same neither saying much. He eyed his sandwich oddly, it actually looked disgusting.

"I'm a terrible cook," She said in between bites. "But I make the best sandwiches," she stated awfully proud of her monstrous creation.

He took a bite out of it hesitantly. He'd never had anything like it.

"This is actually not bad," he said thoughtfully.

"Thanks, it's a leftover sandwich. Leftovers of anything Crabbe and Goyle didn't finish anyways." Both shared a laugh.

Draco's mind still twisted over her reasons for doing this. Nel wasn't the type to believe in any redemptions. At least not from what he'd learned about her in the past two years. She was more stubborn than anyone he knew, wasn't the kind of person to change her mind about things just like that. She must've seen something in him that seemed personal to her.

"I'll never get tired of looking at this tree," She said interrupting his train of thought. "Back at Wool's we get a small one every year. Skinny pitiful thing, with almost no branches. It always tilts to the sides due to the tacky pink ornaments that Wool uses."

"Wool's?" He asked confused.

He noted that her ears turned red from over sharing and she took a large bite out of her sandwich stuffing her mouth so she wouldn't speak any more. He gathered that was probably the orphanage where she lived.

"Hey, you better not get any funny ideas Saintday," he spoke in that snappy bitter tone he was known for. She looked at him oddly yet thankful he hadn't further pressed about her slip. "This doesn't mean that we're friends got it?" His eyes were glued to the massive tree at the center of the Great Hall. She couldn't help but smile a little at this, "Wouldn't dream of it Malfoy."

The next morning Nel was surprised to actually find some gifts underneath her tree. It was nothing grand of fancy, regardless she was touched by the gestures. Theodore had gotten her some ink and parchment for the year, something that would be most useful to her in her business affairs. A Quidditch poster from Tracey which she suspected was a gift for her and not for Nel. Regardless she hung it up between their beds to make her friend happy.

She'd knitted some gloves for the two of them. They weren't perfect but she was hoping they'd do just the trick in keeping them warm for the rest of the winter.

She had agreed to meet the Gryffindors for breakfast. Exiting the common room, she was surprised to see Malfoy standing in the common room.

"There you are," he said with his arms crossed over his chest. There seemed to be an annoyed look on his face.

She flashed him a confused look. Had he been waiting for her? Were they actually friends now?

"Crabbe and Goyle left for breakfast already," He uttered as if explaining why he was there standing alone. "They found this outside in the corridor. It has your name on it," he signaled to a large box that had been placed on the low table. She eyed the box carefully. The gift-wrapping paper was wrapped with precision and bore a rich checkered emerald and black diamond pattern that was tied together by a thick black ribbon. There was a square tag at the top that had Nel Saintday scrawled on it in sharp handwriting.

She looked at the gift completely stunned.

"Thanks for holding it for me," She said awkwardly still being unable to remove her eyes from the gift. She didn't know what was inside, but she had certainly never seen maybe even touched a box that was wrapped so beautifully. "I'll take it back to my room-"

"No-," He said rather quickly. She arched an eyebrow at his odd behaviors. "Open it here," he pulled out his wand. "It could be cursed."

She let out a small laugh. Yeah right. As if somebody would try and curse her. She wasn't Harry Potter of anyone important. However, one could never be too safe. Maybe the Weasley twins had send it to her- or maybe it had been Harry, but she doubted that they would get her something this nice.

"I guess you're right," She said dropping her knees on the carpet and slowly undoing the ribbon and wrapping with care. She didn't want to ruin it. She also wasn't sure if she should keep the wrapping or not.

There was obviously a black box inside. Hesitantly she reached for it and removed it from the table. Curious to what was inside. Wincing and preparing for the worst she opened it. However, nothing happened. No harm was done. Inside was a piece of clothing wrapped in more paper. More layers? Again, she undid it carefully and pulled out a black jumper. It was probably the softest fabric she had ever touched. It almost felt unreal or like how'd she would imagine touching a cloud would feel like.

"This is..." She gasped feeling the texture in between her fingertips.

"It's made from Vicuña, the world's softest fabric. Way better than cashmere," Malfoy said smugly peering over her shoulder. "You can tell?" She marveled at his ability to be able to tell just with his sight.

"It doesn't say who it's from," She said looking under the many wrappings.

"Do you like it?" Malfoy asked in an uninterested tone.

"Do I like it?" She repeated her voice almost breaking. "I've never had anything half as decent as this in my life," she hugged it close to her chest. "I almost feel like it'll melt in my arms," she laughed weakly. "Look! Touch it!" She said moving the fabric close to him beaming. He raised his hand and denied it with a bored look on his features. "I'm almost afraid to wear it. What if I ruin it?" She rambled anxiously as her mind wondered to who would’ve taken the time to get her such a thoughtful gift. She was more than touched. She was elated. She could’ve cried at the gesture if the boy hadn’t been there. It was the first time that she had something that was hers and truly hers alone. It hadn’t been owned by anyone before, it didn’t have any signs of tear or wear. It was hers. It might as well have been made out of cotton or wool and she would’ve been just as moved by the gesture.

Draco had just in time snatched the card that had her name written on it. He hadn't noticed that the back of it read 'For Draco, Love Mum. Happy Xmas'

That had been a close one.

"Who do you think sent it?" She wondered out loud. "Do you think it was Professor Snape?"

He fought the urge to roll his eyes at her reasoning. Snape? Really?

"Does it matter?" He said irritated.

"I just want to thank them. Maybe give them something nice?" She said concerned before turning her attention back to the box. "It has to be someone that I know… Obviously!"

Malfoy wasn't going to be much help, but maybe Fred and George could help her figure it out. Draco glanced around the room nervously. What would she do if she knew it had been him?

He was so lost in his thoughts he didn't even realize she was on her way out of the Common Room sweater I hand.

"I best be off. See you around. Happy Christmas!" She called over her shoulder with a broad smile before exiting the room.

She didn't hear but the boy stood there alone.

"Happy Christmas…" he said more to himself.

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