#More art soon though! I got stuff in the oven for reals!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

harryspet · 4 years

Text

welcome to eden | steve rogers

[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, stepford wives au, wife!reader, marriage au, institutional misogyny, wealthy!steve, housewives au, stepfordization, mind control/brainwashing, forced gender roles, breeding kink, oral sex (male recieving), vaginal sex (wear a condom, kids!), bad editing :)

A/N: i just love the concept of this! i was told this was done before but I hope you all like my interpretation!

THIS STORY CONTAINS TRIGGERING CONTENT

In which the neighborhood you and your husband Steve move into isn’t like anywhere else on earth. The women are flawless and the men are way too happy.

main masterlist

taglist: @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @marvelslut-musicalnerd @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @cherienymphe @peterztinglez @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @charmed-asylum @fishwaterr @marvelsswansong @nsfwsebbie

word count: 4.8k

“Now that we actually own this place it feels different. You still don’t think this is all a little much?”

Steve lifted the cardboard box you were holding from your hands, starting to make his way into the house, “It’s perfect, pumpkin.”

Eden.

You were now homeowners in the most luxurious and exclusive neighborhood in upstate New York. Howard Stark created this safe haven in the sixties and people now knew it as “heaven on earth”.

You followed him inside the fortress of a house, knowing he was smiling wide. Even in your wildest dreams you never imagined that you would live in a place like this. There were so many rooms that you’d run out of ideas for what to do with them. The massive foyer was twice as big as the home you grew up in.

Perfect marble floors, a winding staircase that reminded you of a castle, and a ginormous chandelier that was no doubt made of real diamonds. You followed Steve as he made his way into the kitchen which was, again, made for the Gods. You’d never been good at cooking but now you felt you had to start giving it a try just because of how nice it was.

It had three ovens! Who in the world needs three ovens? “I don’t think we even have enough stuff to fill the house, Steve.”

He set the box onto the counter and you were reminded of the small number of things inside compared to the amount of cabinet space, “We’ll buy more things. Lots of things! You have my card, you can order whatever you want online,” You took a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed even by the thought of decorating this place, “Hey now, c’ mere. This is supposed to be a happy day.”

You walked into his embrace, letting his strong arms wrap around you as you leaned your head against his hard chest, “I am happy,” You made sure to say though you weren’t convinced this house would ever feel normal, “And I’m grateful. I really am, Steve.”

Steve’s big promotion in security at Stark Industries was unexpected but of course, you were happy for him. You just didn’t expect he’d suddenly be making millions and, since the two of you were married now, that you’d have to make the move with him and start looking for new jobs in the city. He’d do the same for you so you felt it was your duty to suck it up and try to make things work.

You looked up at him and a soft smile was on his kind face. He leaned down to press a comforting kiss to your forehead. You tilted up to kiss him. He deepened it and, like you always liked, the passion you’d felt with him escalated the situation.

Suddenly, Steven lifted you onto the kitchen counter, his hands on your waist and started to explore beneath your shirt, “This is going to be so good for us,” He spoke huskily against your lips, “What do you say we christen the new place?”

You nodded eagerly as he began to kiss your neck, “One good thing is we’ll probably never run out of places to have sex in a house this big,” Steve chuckled at your words. For a moment, his kisses took away the anxiety you were feeling. Change is only a part of life and it was something you’d just have to get used to. Luckily, you had Steve by your side to get through it all.

“Plenty of space for kids as well,” He said and you assumed it was an attempt to turn you on. You gripped his muscular arms tightly as he

“Mhm, put a baby in me, Steve,” You played along, knowing that you were on birth control and that was unlikely to happen anytime soon. Steve was dying to be a father but you agreed before you got married that you would enjoy your marriage to each other before you considered having kids, “Please, Steve.”

You knew that would send him over the edge and only seconds later he was pulling down your bottoms and pushing himself between your legs. Before you two could get really hot and heavy, the doorbell rang and left you both frozen.

Steve helped you off the counter and you were quickly trying to pull up your yoga pants as Steve zipped up his jeans, “Edith, who’s at the door?” Steve asked which caught you off guard. The mansion was also a smart house, equipped with artificial intelligence that Mr. Stark had developed.

“James and Natasha Barnes, sir. Would you like me to let them in?” There were small monitors throughout the house including the kitchen. It lit up when the door rang with a picture of the couple standing at the front door.

“Yes, Edith. Thank you,” Steve turned back to you, not with frustration that their moment had been interrupted, but with a mischievous smile, “We’ll finish what we started later.”

You nodded, forcing a smile as he grabbed your hand. The two of you walked to the foyer which was a trip within itself due to the size of the house.

Bucky was one of Steve’s friends that you were never quite sure of. He’d known Steve for way longer than you so you never thought it was your place to ask questions about their relationship. Bucky just seemed to bring out Steve’s impulsive side and you preferred Steve when he was cool and level headed.

Nat, on the other hand, you loved her.

“Welcome to Eden, Rogers family,” Bucky announced, his voice booming through the foyer as they came into view. Already, something was off and it wasn’t because of the new environment. Bucky was clad in his suburban husband get-up, like he’d been golfing all day and Natasha looked like she was preparing to go to some old-fashioned garden party. You’d never seen her wear a sundress and never seen her smile so wide.

“Thanks, Buck,” You heard Steve say, going to hug his best friend.

As you walked up to embrace Natasha, she even felt different. As you pulled back, you searched her face for something missing, “Wow, your eyes are beautiful,” She said, still beaming. Her red hair was now blonde and reached down past her shoulders. Her skin was bright and her makeup, which she didn’t normally wear, was done to perfection.

“Thank you,” You spoke, unsure of why she was just now noticing. Besides that, you didn’t think they were anything special, “You look great … so new.” You laughed awkwardly as you took a step back. Bucky placed a hand on the small of her back and she gazed back at him lovingly.

“Honey, you act like you haven’t met Y/N a million times,” Bucky grinned towards you, trying to ease the awkwardness.

“Of course,” Natasha agreed immediately. You couldn’t help but think her tone was lacking a certain emotion, “I love spending time with Y/N. It’s so nice to have girl friends, isn’t it?”

Suddenly, appearing from basically nowhere, she pulled out a dish. It was a pound cake and she presented it to you with a smile that was now starting to make you uncomfortable, “A house warming gift,” Bucky added as you accepted it, “Natasha has been taking up baking.”

“That’s very sweet,” You said and Steve added a thanks.

“You two should stay. Let us give you a tour!” Steve clapped his hands together in excitement.

“Sure,” You agreed, “Stay for dinner. We can order pizza.”

“Order? Pizza?” Natasha was smiling but her head cocked to the side in confusion. Bucky responded by grabbing her hand and, again, she looked up at him with loving eyes.

“That sounds delicious, Y/N,” Bucky said, ignoring his wife.

You rubbed moisturizer on your face as you looked back into your bathroom mirror. The room was the size of a regular room and the closet was basically an apartment within itself. Steve came from behind you, his hands on your waist as he pressed himself into you.

“Should we continue where we left off?” He asked as you grabbed a hold of your toothbrush.

His hands were still roaming over your body as you began to brush your teeth before bed. You didn’t answer his question, your mind far away, “You don’t think Nat was acting super off today?” You asked after spitting toothpaste into the sink, “I mean, quitting her job. Suddenly wanting to be a stay at home Mom? She just got a promotion a few months ago.”

Through the mirror, Steve gave you a look that told you he was about to play devil’s advocate, “She didn’t seem that different to me. I think she realized what she actually wanted after the move.”

Your eyes narrowed at him as you rinsed off your toothbrush, “Are you being serious, Steve?”

“Hey, don’t get mad at me,” Realizing he was not getting anything tonight, he stepped back with his hands in the air, “You never know about these things. People change. Who knows, maybe our priorities will change too.”

You scoffed, turning off the water, “My only priority right now is landing the Cosmopolitan contract. I can think about priorities once I’m working again,” You walked past Steve, standing on the tip of your toes to kiss his cheek, but he still had a defeated look on his face, “Let’s go to bed, it’s been a long day.”

You barely had time to enjoy your bowl of cereal milk before there was another ring at the doorbell. Without looking up from his bowl, Steve explained that he made plans for you and Natasha to spend the day together. You knew he was working on convincing you that this entire move was a great idea. Of course, you didn’t have time to protest because the new blonde was now impatiently honking the horn of the golf cart in your driveway.

As soon as you stepped out of the house, you realized you were underdressed once again. Her attire today was a sundress full of blue flowers and beautiful pearls to go around her neck, “Good morning, sunshine!” She beamed as you climbed into the passenger seat. She looked over your regular t-shirt and jeans with a smile but you could tell she didn’t understand the way you were dressing, “It’s such a lovely day, isn’t it?”

“Yeah-”

“I know! I love gardening on days like this,” She suddenly pressed the gas and you were on your way. You were still figuring out what exactly happened to your friend since the last time she saw you but she could only seem to talk about gardening, “Bucky loves the flowers I plant. I put them in this gorgeous vase so he can look at them while he’s eating his favorite breakfast. It’s nice to have nice things to look at.”

Natasha showed you every house in the neighborhood, explaining what nuclear family lived in each house, “How come you know everyone who lives here? You never seemed like the type to ... “

“Oh, we all know each other in Eden. It’s like a family! Isn’t that sweet?”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to nod this time. You were starting to notice that every person we passed seemed … flawless. All the wives were perfectly dressed, wearing heels, and had neatly pinned hair. All the husbands looked way too happy.

You passed a golf course and soon arrived at the clubhouse where you’d be attending a book club meeting. You were a reader yourself so the idea of that gave you some hope that you wouldn’t feel totally out of place today.

That hope dissipated quickly when you stepped into the room. On a landing overlooking a pool, a group of flawless looking women sat in a circle like they were having a tea party rather than a book club meeting.

They were all happy to meet you and Natash introduced you to everyone. Instead of their names, she started with their husband’s. There was Sam’s wife Sharon, Vision’s wife Wanda, Thor’s wife Val, Clint’s wife Laura and most importantly-

“Pepper!” The group of women erupted with cheers as the matriarch entered the room. You’d recognize Tony Wife’s anywhere just from the tabloids. She was pretty much America’s favorite wife, writing self-help books, and posing on the cover of home decor magazines.

“Good morning, ladies,” She moved like a cloud, floating through the room as she commanded everyone’s attention. She took a second look at you as she made her way to her chair, “Steve’s wife Y/N, it’s lovely to meet you and, wow, you have such beautiful eyes. Welcome to the book club!”

The room erupted in giggles and clapping once again. You felt you were in some sort of simulation, like a social prank and you were waiting for some tv show host to come out and reveal that all these people were paid actors.

Pepper continued, crossing her ankles as she flattened out the skirt of her purple colored dress, “I hope you are all feeling like I am. My husband is happy, the kids are happy, my friends are happy and that. Makes. Me. Overjoyed,” Her words put them in a trance and they seemed even more robot-like than they already were, “I only want to add to that feeling so today we are discussing a highly anticipated book.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting but you clearly weren’t on the same page as everyone else. Natasha nudged your side, giddy as ever, “I present to you ladies, Melanie Winkle’s Christmas Baking Book!” Now you were positive that you were in a simulation, “Christmas is a few months away but the season is so busy that I think we should get an early start this year. Who knows how many dance recitals, charity fundraisers, and Christmas parties we will all attend this winter? Too many to count! This book is going to change all of our lives.”

Natasha leaned into your ear, “I love Christmas, don’t you?”

“Nat?” Her eyes widened with curiosity, “Blink twice if someone is holding you hostage.”

She didn’t blink at all, “You’re silly, Y/N. You always make me laugh, don’t you?”

The next week passed in a blur. You had no idea how many brain dead women you had met or how many times Steve had told you that you were crazy for stressing over the Natasha situation. Tomorrow, you had an interview and you could finally leave the neighborhood and be around people who didn’t only care about knitting and Christmas decorations.

Before you could have your sweet escape, your limit was met.

You were attending a yoga class led by Pepper that Natasha had brought you to. It was an otherwise normal experience despite Pepper chanting about how true peace is reached when your “home is happy”.

The class was in a cat’s pose when Wanda suddenly fell down to her stomach. The class froze and you rushed to her side. Your heart racing, you placed a hand on her back to check to see what was wrong. You brushed her hair from her facing, seeing that her eyes were wide open and she was saying, “I love my husband. I love my family. I love my husband. I love my family,” She kept repeating those two phrases over and over, her gaze completely empty.

You felt Natasha’s hand on your arm, trying to guide you away.

“She’s going to be just fine, girls,” Pepper said calmly like the woman wasn’t having a nervous breakdown, “Us women are so delicate, with the yoga and the hot weather outside, she must be overheating. Natasha, will you lead the girls into the other room?”

“I think she needs medical attention,” You interjected, staring around the room to find a like mind.

“Tony can help her,” Pepper smiled.

“She needs a doctor!” The room went silent before the wives began to whisper.

“I love my husband. I love my husband. I love- I love- It’s a lovely day outside, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

“We will get her the help she needs, do not worry,” Piper continued, folding her arms in front of her.

Natasha pulled your arm harder this time, “Y/N, let me walk you home. It’s a lovely day for a walk.”

You left the room with a feeling of complete uncertainty and as soon as Natasha was out of your site, you stormed up the spiral stairs to find Steve’s office, “Steve!” You shouted his name as you speedily walked through the long hallway. You pushed open the two, large, oak doors that led into the study and stormed inside, “Steve Rogers, I am done!”

Steve looked up from his desk and Tony turned to face you from his place in the chair in front of his desk.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Steve stood from his chair, concerned.

You stared at Tony Stark, not with awe because he was the most famous engineer in the world, but with anger, “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you, Y/N,” Tony stood next, fixing the buttons on his suit jacket, “Steve tells me you’re a photographer. Quite a talented one.”

You eyed him carefully, somehow knowing that he was the source of all that was wrong here, “I need to talk to my husband, alone, if you don’t mind.”

Steve’s eyes darkened as he looked at you, “Y/N,” He said with a warning, trying to tell you not to be rude, “This is my boss-” “It’s quite alright, I know an angry wife when I see one. I enjoyed our conversation, Mr. Rogers, and I think we’re on the same page now,” Tony approached you, a smug look on his face, “I hope to see you around, sweetheart. Oh, and again, welcome to Eden.”

As he left the room, you became even more frustrated, “You can’t talk to me like that in front of my boss, Y/N.”

“Steve,” You walked closer to his desk, “Listen to me. It’s only been a week and I am losing my mind. The people here are … are robots! They’re old-fashioned and daft, especially the wives. Nat used to be smart and cunning and now all she can talk about are gardening magazines!”

“Gardening is a very relaxing hobby-”

“Oh, please,” You crossed your arms, “That woman was on her way to being a CEO and now she’s … she’s a shell.”

Steve walked around the desk to you, grabbing your hands while they shook with anger. The look in his eyes was sincere, loving, and brought you back to a simpler time. When you were first dating, living in a tiny apartment in the city, the two of you were so in love.

“I know this move has been hard on you and I don’t want you to see this all as a mistake. I’m trying hard, I really am,” You nodded, trying to let his words soothe you. You pressed your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, “Everything here is new to me too. They do things here differently than any other place I’ve been.”

“Yeah, it’s like a cult,” You felt his chest rumble as he chuckled.

“I’m not sure about that. I do know that things are simpler here,” You felt his heartbeat quicken, “I always wanted the white picket fence, the two kids, a boy and girl, and a doting wife. She wouldn’t be bogged down by the stresses of modern life, I would take care of her … we’d be happy-”

You pushed away from him, tears pricking your eyes, “Steve, you can’t be serious,” You took a few more steps back.

Steve sighed, “I wasn’t sure before. Bucky made it sound like a crazy fantasy but now that I’ve seen Nat and … now that I’ve talked to Tony…”

You kept walking backward, your heart was now racing, “You kept saying she and her. Not me … I’m not the wife you want, am I?”

Steve stepped forward now. There was pain in his eyes like he didn’t want to hurt me but he had to keep pushing himself further, “You could be, pumpkin,” He tried to be endearing but his voice was weak.

As soon as your back touched the door, you turned and yanked it open. You took off down the hallway and you cursed the fact that you let Steve by this crazy house. You looked back to see Steve standing at the top of the stairs as you hurried down them, “Y/N, please don’t make this hard!” Steve tried to plead.

“Fuck you, Steve!” You shouted back, practically throwing yourself at the door. As you turned the lock, it didn’t budge, “Edith, open the door!”

“Only Mr. Rogers has command of my controls, Mrs. Rogers.”

Your face fell completely as tears streamed down your cheeks.

You felt him behind as you continued to pull at the doorknob, “Steve, I’m begging you …” He placed his hands on your hips, leaning down to whisper into your ear.

“I promise it won’t hurt one bit, pumpkin.”

When Steve awoke a week later, he was dreading the day. It had been a week since Tony started working on you and Steve was nervous to see the final product of the reprogramming. He’d spent the week emailing your friends, family, and associates, making excuses about your whereabouts and your new change of career.

Whatever problems he ran into, there was nothing that money couldn’t solve.

As he made his way down the stairs that morning, he smelt something unusual. Steve had never woken to the smell of bacon and he had certainly never heard you humming sweet songs before. He saw the back of you first as he walked into the kitchen, knowing you were whisking away at some mixture in a bowl.

Steve moved cautiously but you easily picked up on his movements. Part of Steve was surprised to see that you were still you. He hadn’t seen such a happy look on your face since the two of you had been engaged, “Hey, honey bear,” You greeted him and Steve could now see you were whisking pancakes, “Did you sleep well?”

Steve moved closer and you heard yourself say, “Don’t be shy, I’m making those pancakes you like from our favorite brunch spot.”

“I didn’t think … how did you …”

You guessed what he was thinking easily, “I did a bunch of research and I found the recipe online. I hope I can make them just like you like them,” You set down the bowl, walking over to peck his lips. Your lips still felt the same which comforted Steve, “Why don’t you sit down at the table? I’ll bring them to you!”

“Oh,” Steve perked up, “I can help you. Where’s the recipe?”

“No need. Let me take care of you, please,” You searched his eyes for permission, “It’s the first day of our new life together and I just want to show you how much I love you.”

Steve nodded and you pecked his lips again. You smiled, knowing how much telling him that you loved him had please him.

In the little breakfast nook, there was already a table full of food, the sunlight streaming in from the tall windows and illuminating the feast. Steve estimated that you had probably been cooking for hours at that point. A glass of orange juice as well, a cup of hot coffee was and today’s newspaper was waiting for him at the head of the table.

You were completely focused on following the recipe, having measured everything precisely and you were now making perfect circles of batter in the frying pan.

Steve watched your dress swing from side to side as you moved your hips, humming to some classical song. He had just realized that you’d chosen a blue dress, his favorite color, and you were wearing your hair just like he preferred. When you brought the tray of pancakes over to the table, you had an excited but expectant look on your face. You were probably as nervous as Steve was earlier.

As you placed them in front of Steve, you stepped back and folded your hands over your apron,

“You aren’t going to sit down?” Steve asked, grabbing his fork.

“Would you like me to sit down?” You asked, a pleasant look on your face.

“Yes, please,” Steve emphasized the seat beside him. He had a look of surprise on his face as if he hadn’t expected you to ask that. You maneuvered into the seat, neatly flattening your dress as you made yourself comfortable.

You looked back at Steve, still expectant, “You don’t want to eat?”

“Of course, if that’s what you’d like, my love,” You started to fill your plate with scrambled eggs and pieces of fruit from the bowl you prepared. Even as you spooned the food into your mouth, the taste not registering in your mouth, you watched him. You made sure to push the syrup closer to him as you waited.

When his fork finally picked up the food, your eyes were wide.

“It takes just like the pancakes at Orla’s,” Steve complimented and you felt your heart race. You touched your chest, your cheeks feeling warm, as happiness flooded you, “They’re delicious, Y/N.”

“I’m so glad,” You beamed, “Eat more, please. Would you like a muffin? Sausage? I can blend you up a fresh smoothie.”

Steve placed a hand over yours, trying to stop you from ranting, “No, everything is perfect.”

And Steve meant it.

When Steve finished his plate, you brought it to the sink despite his wishes to help you with dishes. When you came back to the table, you leaned in for what Steve thought was another peck on the lips. He was surprised when you deepened the kiss, resting your hands on the armrest as you leaned into him.

When you pulled away, you weren’t even breathless, “You look very handsome this morning, Steve,” You told him, adoration in your eyes as you memorized every feature of his strong face, “Would you let me have the honor of pleasing you?”

“I’m already feeling pleased,” Steve grinned not expecting your hand to run down his chest and then over his boxers, “.... oh.”

“Please?” You pouted, feeling him through the fabric. He grew harder against your grasp and, by his pupils, you could tell he liked it, “Just let me touch it. Please, Steve?”

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly, nodding as he was left speechless. You reached into his boxers, grabbing his member which made Steve melt back into his chair. You freed it from its confinement, leaning down to let a trail of your spit coat the sensitive tip, “Just like that, Y/N,” You up and down his shaft, twisting and rubbing your thumb over the tip.

You moved down to kneel in front of him, “I wanna taste it, Steve. I wanna taste you so bad,” You moaned, moving your mouth closer to him.

“Put my cock in your mouth, baby,” You smiled before tasting the tip with your tongue, “Good girl. Oh, you’re an angel.”

You took him all the way into his mouth, your tongue trailing down his shaft as you went deeper. You bobbed your head up and down, your tongue creating a swirling motion. Despite your eyes watering, you kept perfect eye contact, trying to show him how much you were enjoying the privilege.

When your mouth tired, you used your hand to continue the work though Steve didn’t seem to mind at all. When you felt he was close, you slowed your motions, “Steve, please cum inside of me?” You begged, your hand still stroking his cock.

He nodded eagerly, knowing you hadn’t taken your birth control for an entire week. You got up from the ground, lifting your dress skirt as you climbed on top of him. Your eyes were locked on each other as you slid your panties to the side, sliding down on his cock. He was already close, you knew that, and you were desperate to feel his warmth.

“You want me to put a baby in you?” Steve grunted as you began to ride him. He grabbed a hold of the back of your neck, pulling you further into him. Your forehead pressed to his, your moans and pants began to mold together.

“Please!” You moaned.

“You want me to make you a Mommy, huh?”

“Please! Yes, please! I want you to make me a Mommy, Steve,” You smiled, the idea only filling your virtually empty mind with happiness. You'd try your best to be a wonderful mother and wife. “Oh, thank you-”

As you felt his warmth fill your insides, it was confirmation that you had pleased your husband properly. He slowly let you go so you could feel every inch that you just took.

“Jesus Christ,” He swore, panting as he leaned back in the chair, “This was the heaven on earth they were talking about.”

Steve could only imagine what came with lunch and dinner.

Suddenly the sun outside caught your attention, “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”

hope you enjoyed!

1K notes · View notes

edendaphne · 3 years

Text

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 19

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

–––––

CHAPTER 19: ATTACCA

Music glossary: Attacca - "To attack at once"; used as a direction in music at the end of a movement to begin the next without pause

–––––

(Mood music: "The Conversation" - Pearl Django)

Being mere months away from graduating lycée meant that their group of friends didn’t have as many classes together, due to their diverse individual interests and talents. However, they always made sure to make time to hang out after school before their extracurricular activities began.

And thus, Adrien, Nino, and Alya made their way to the classroom where the art club gathered to meet up with Marinette. From there, Adrien would make his way to either fencing lessons or Chinese, depending on the day of the week. Marinette would join him on days when he had Chinese (as she’d become determined to master the language ever since her uncle visited from Shanghai a few years back), Alya would go to her journalism club, and Nino would travel to his part-time internship at the local recording studio.

“–and the backlogs just keep piling up!” Alya spoke as they walked, voice full of vigor and excitement. “I’ve had to recruit yet another mod to help me keep order in the forums! Especially since the Ladyblog has started going international and we’ve had to organize servers in different languages. You wouldn’t believe how crazy it’s gotten in there recently!”

“Dang, babe,” Nino interjected. “Sounds like things are super rough for you right now.”

“Not really, more busy than anything. Especially because I have that big research article due next week, there’s just not enough hours in the day to try to read everything that goes on in there. But I have my mods report to me daily, ‘cause I always like to stay on top of everything that goes on in the chats!”

“What’s gotten everyone so riled up in the Ladyblog lately?” Adrien chimed in. “I don’t recall it being nearly this busy last year.”

The trio entered the art club’s classroom and settled down at the table where Marinette sat, getting her various sketches organized. The art teacher was quite easy going, so they didn’t have to talk in hushed whispers and could come and go as they pleased.

“Well, to be honest, it’s because of Chat Noir,” Alya replied.

Adrien tried to contain his surprise. “R-really? What– uhhh, what do people have to say about him?”

He winced inwardly. He knew he shouldn’t ask. But curiosity got the better of him today. Maybe learning the news through the filter or Alya’s paraphrasing instead of reading the negative comments firsthand would lessen the sting of what people said about him.

Marinette whipped her head around at the mention of his alter ego. “Wait, what about Chat Noir?” she inquired.

“Girl,” Alya replied, her voice filled with renewed exuberance. “You would not believe how much we’ve had to censor and moderate all the inappropriate things people have been saying!”

Adrien flinched in his seat. “Wow… do people really hate him that much?” he asked, trying to conceal the dejection in his voice.

Alya busted out into loud guffaws. “Hate?! Dude, most people don’t hate him; they LOVE him! By ‘inappropriate’ comments, I mean the kinda stuff you wouldn’t want your grandma to catch you reading! There’s a whole giant section dedicated to his new fan club!” she said as she removed her glasses so she could wipe away the tears of laughter.

“WHAT?!” Adrien squawked in confusion, his face feeling hotter than the ovens back at the bakery. “A fan club??”

Marinette burst into uncontrollable snickering. “Has it really gotten that bad?!”

Nino joined in, “Bro! Adrien, I can’t believe you haven’t heard Alya rant about these rabid fans before! They call themselves the ‘Noir Nation’, and the kind of things they’ve been writing would make adult romance authors blush like schoolgirls!”

Alya nodded, thoroughly amused. “And that’s not including all the fanfiction people have been writing.”

“Wait– the WHAT?! There’s fanfiction?!!” Marinette gaped in shock, as if she’d been hit in the face with an enormous pie. “Alya, how come I never knew about this?!”

“Why? You wanna read em? Girl, you’ll get no judgment from me. If you wanna check ‘em out for yourself, just go check under the hashtag ‘Ladynoir’.”

Marinette stammered as her arms flailed in her bewilderment, accidentally knocking her phone off the table and onto the floor, her eyes bigger and rounder than Adrien had ever seen them. “They have a ship name?!” she screeched.

“Just mind the ratings though,” Alya advised. “Some of them can get pretty steamy. You wouldn’t want someone to catch you reading those in public,” she added with a wink.

Marinette continued to sputter incoherently. “NO, I am NOT gonna read it!! It would be different if they were fictional characters, but I could never read fanfiction about real people!”

Alya raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. “Mm-hmm… Sure.”

Marinette’s hands flew to her face, trying to hide how red her entire face had gotten, and released a long squeak that resembled a hamster on helium. As shocked as Adrien was about these rather unexpected news, seeing Marinette’s over-the-top reaction brought a wide grin to his face and he busted out laughing.

He bent over to retrieve Marinette’s phone, since she was too busy being mortified to notice it had fallen to the floor. As he was about to hand it back, the screen lit up and Adrien saw the lockscreen wallpaper: it was the same photo of Ladybug and Chat Noir that he himself had saved earlier that day. He smiled, not exactly sure what to make of it, but finding it adorable that she’d liked the photo enough to set it as her lockscreen.

He tapped her shoulder, waiting for her to respond. She emerged from behind her impromptu hand shield and turned her head, then her eyes widened once again as soon as she saw what Adrien was showing her. She jolted straight up, stiff as a board, and her eyes met his, cheeks turning tomato red. He winked at her, amused about this little secret between them, and handed back her phone without a word.

Marinette accepted it with a meek-sounding, “Thanks,” looking like she wanted to explain the photo, but not able to do so unless she wanted Alya and Nino to find out that she was potentially a… ahem– “Ladynoir” shipper.

Switching the conversation to something else (which Marinette seemed to be eternally grateful for), the group chatted until it became time for them to scatter to their next destinations.

With a wave, Adrien exited the classroom and headed towards fencing practice, one of the few activities he decided to stick with despite not being forced to participate. Fencing, along with Chinese lessons, were not only enjoyable, but were also quite useful. Sadly, he didn’t have access to a piano anymore, so he wasn’t able to pursue that hobby for the time being. Hopefully later down the line, when things had settled down and he’d found his own place to live, he’d be able to finance one.

Thinking about the future had become an exciting pastime instead of an anxiety-inducing one, and it was all thanks to his friends and those he cared about. He smiled as he reached the door to the locker rooms, continuing to daydream of what was to come.

(Mood music: "Recollection 3" - Shirō Sagisu (BLEACH OST, "The Diamond Dust Rebellion")

Adrien finished getting dressed for fencing, his head still blissfully floating in the clouds. He stored his belongings into his assigned locker, shutting it with a loud clang, which echoed through the empty room.

Huh...? Empty?

He swiveled his head around, surprised that there was no one beside him. He stood up and began walking down the large room, peeking down the other locker rows looking for his classmates; but there was nobody.

Where was everyone? There’s no way that every single one of them was running late. Had his lessons been cancelled and he’d somehow missed a text message or email? He began heading back towards his locker to check his phone for any schedule changes.

Before he reached his destination, however, heavy thudding footsteps broke the eerie silence. Adrien whipped his body around to greet whoever they belonged to.

The owner of those footsteps was one of the last people Adrien expected to meet here.

“Gaspard?!”

Adrien stood agape, face to face with his old bodyguard, whom he hadn’t seen in a couple of years; not since he’d resigned and moved out of the country. Nathalie had mentioned that in his resignation letter, Gaspard said that he’d become involved in an overseas business venture involving the market of rare action figures. Nevertheless, Adrien couldn’t help but suspect that his father’s ill temper and poor treatment of their employees was the true reason for his departure.

Adrien’s first reaction was surprise and joy, and he rushed forward to greet and embrace him. However, as he approached and got a better look at the man’s face, Adrien’s mood instantly morphed into confusion and apprehension. There was something odd about his eyes.

Something wasn’t right. Why was Gaspard here? And why now?

He came to a halt about a meter before reaching him. An oppressive weight seemed to press in all around him, and he had to suppress a shiver. “Wait. Gaspard, did–” he gulped, “–did my father send you?”

His old bodyguard did not reply, but took a heavy step towards him. Adrien stepped back.

“Please… I can’t go back. I live somewhere else now, and I’m very happy there. Whatever he told you about the situation, it’s a lie.”

His bodyguard continued to approach him, his stare vacant and unsettling.

Fighting the urge to panic, he pleaded, “You don’t have to do this. If he’s offered you compensation, I can match it; it’ll just take me a bit of time. But we can work something out, right?? For old time’s sake?”

He continued walking backwards until he bumped into something firm, but it wasn’t a wall; it was another person. Before he could turn around, they grabbed him by the shoulders, detaining him and preventing him from running away.

He was about to shout for help when something sharp jabbed him on the side of the neck, injecting a cold liquid. Adrien’s eyes grew wide in terror.

Shit.

Adrien swore as he jerked away, elbowing whoever was behind him and managing to break free. Rubbing at the spot where the syringe had stabbed him, he glanced back to take a look at his other assailant, only to see... another Gaspard?

Why are there two of him??

This was wrong. Gaspard didn’t have a twin; he knew that for a fact. He’d worked for the Agrestes ever since Adrien was a toddler and was too young to even pronounce his name correctly (hence the nickname “Gorille”, which stuck around for years afterwards). Additionally, there was something uncanny, otherworldly, even, about the way these two men looked and moved.

He shook himself out of his stupor. He didn’t have time to contemplate any possible explanations. He had to get out of there fast.

He sprinted towards the exit, but only managed to travel a few paces before he lost his footing and tripped. He fell to the ground hard, almost hitting his head on a nearby bench. As he struggled to get up, he realized that his fingers and toes had already gone numb.

Not good.

Time was running out. Adrenaline coursed through him and, with a grunt, he hefted himself to his feet and scrambled towards the exit, as fast as he could despite a heavy limp. Though his heart was hammering and his legs felt like they were filled with sand, he pushed himself, concentrating on reaching the door.

After taking a few steps, however, he realized that even if he did manage to exit the locker room, the area beyond was an open courtyard. Meaning he wasn’t going to be able to reach someplace safe before getting caught. He had no choice but to transform into Chat Noir, and hopefully Plagg’s powers and strength could help him escape and find somewhere to hide.

He’d scarcely uttered the first syllable in the transformation phrase when he was tackled to the ground. A giant hand swiftly covered his mouth and Adrien felt his hands get bound together with thick zip ties behind his back. A muffled scream of writhing frustration made its way up his throat as his limbs became more and more useless by the second.

No… This can’t be happening! Please, this can’t be how it all ends!

Just when his life had finally gained a semblance of normalcy and he’d found happiness again, it would get ripped away and he would disappear without a trace, leaving everyone to wonder what had happened to him. Leaving his friends to think that Gabriel had pulled him from school and they would never see him again. Leaving Ladybug to wonder if Chat had abandoned her forever. Leaving her to fight Hawkmoth alone. Again.

He couldn’t let that happen. He thrashed and struggled as furiously as he could, fighting the feelings of overwhelming helplessness that threatened to consume him. Nearing despair, he was too distracted to notice Plagg phrasing through the wall, away from the skirmish, in search of the only person who could save him.

(Mood music: "Run" - Ludovico Einaudi)

Marinette fidgeted with her pencil, her feet wiggled and bounced under her desk. She didn’t understand; when she’d arrived at the art club, her head had been filled with inspiration and ideas that she’d been excited to draw and execute. However, at the moment, her mind was filled with noise and disquietude.

Having had enough, she excused herself to visit the restroom. Once she’d walked far enough from the classroom, she opened her purse to talk to Tikki about her current dilemma.

“It’s the same feeling as last night, Tikki! Except that would mean one of three possibilities. Option A.) It’s nothing and I’m going crazy. And— don’t give me that look, Tikki! I can see what you’re thinking and I don’t have time for your cheeky sass right now!” The kwami snickered while Marinette cleared her throat and continued, “Option B.) that Chat is here, at this school, which is impossible because his school’s on the other side of the city, that’s why he always leaves the house super early for his long commute.”

Tikki opened her mouth and looked like she was about to say something, but then didn’t (...or couldn’t?).

Marinette resumed, “Or, C.) that my–– what do I even call it? My ‘Spidey sense’??–– that it’s got a long distance mode, and Chat is all the way across Paris and he’s in trouble! But what am I supposed to do about that from here?! I wouldn’t even know where to begin looking!”

Tikki shrugged. “Follow your instincts, Marinette. There’s no harm in taking a quick look around the school, right?”

Marinette groaned. “UGH! It doesn’t make sense!! Am I going to get interrupted like this all the time from now on?” She shook her head resolutely. “No. I can’t just go off on random field trips every single time I feel a random fit of anxiety. I’m sure it’s just leftover jitters from last night. I’m supposed to call Master Fu after school anyway; he can help me figure everything out. I’m just gonna go back to class and forget about it.”

Tikki frowned, not quite convinced, but deciding not to press further.

Marinette made her way back to the classroom in a frustrated huff. But as her hand reached to turn the handle, the feelings of danger and urgency multiplied tenfold. Without a word, she sprinted away in the opposite direction, not even knowing where she was running to, only knowing she had to get there immediately.

She reached the large common area of the school downstairs. Her head whipped around, frantically searching for something, anything. In her haste, she didn’t notice a small black creature zoom into her open purse.

A few moments later, she felt a frantic tugging at her shirt from below.

“Marinette!! Over there! Check the locker room, quick!!!” Tikki whisper-screamed as she peeked outside the purse, her tone uncharacteristically frantic.

Marinette nodded, then sprinted to the locker room.

“Wait! You should transform first!” Tikki added.

No time!

“Marinette, wait!!”

Despite Tikki’s protests, Marinette raced towards the double doors, tackling them open.

Three sets of eyes landed on her as she skidded to a halt, but only one pair consumed her entire attention. She gasped in horror, hands flying to her face as she stared at what was occurring in front of her. Adrien let out a desperate, muffled scream urging her to run.

His panicked voice snapped her out of her dazed shock; but instead of running, she stood her ground, eyes darting back and forth across the area searching for something useful. The room was remarkably barren except for a lone broom a short distance away from her. She grabbed it and leaped towards the closest attacker (the one holding Adrien down), swinging it like a baseball bat.

The man didn’t even try to avoid the hit; the broomstick merely bounced off the side of his face where Marinette had hit him. She frowned in confusion, then tried hitting him again, bringing the stick down on the top of his head like an axe.

SNAP.

The end of the broom flew off, and Marinette stared in shock at the broken broomstick.

“What the hell are you?!” Marinette exclaimed, shifting her grip on the shortened wooden stub.

She pounced at the second bodyguard, bringing her weapon down in a stabbing motion; but he swatted at her hand, disarming her. She yelped in pain, leaping backwards to get some distance between them.

She was outmatched. The only strategy available was to use their own size against them. With a feint to the side, she shot at his legs for a takedown, hoping to catch him off balance. He called her bluff and shoved her backwards with his giant palm, then kneed her in the stomach.

Winded from the impact, Marinette doubled over with a gasping wheeze, fighting with all her might to keep herself from collapsing onto the ground. She forced herself upright and attacked again. With a clumsy jerk, she lunged forward, swinging wild punches at her opponent. The shots connected but his expression barely changed; it was like beating a breathing punching bag.

The bodyguard backhanded Marinette across the face. Pain shooting across her cheek, she staggered, almost losing her balance. In her daze, she watched helplessly as the man reared his arm back. There was no chance to dodge. His fist connected with her abdomen, delivering a liver shot that shut down her entire body. She crumpled to the floor as if boneless. She tried to call out Adrien’s name, but her mouth merely opened in a silent scream.

Marinette could hear Adrien’s distressed screaming, but it sounded distant, like they were underwater. The edges of her vision grew black and fuzzy, the entire room dissolving around her. She had to consciously force her lungs to inhale, but couldn’t fill them all the way, as if a boulder had been placed on top of her chest.

Faintly, she felt herself getting picked up off the ground and carried away over someone’s shoulder. Disoriented and semi-blinded, the sudden movement and rough jostling made her head spin and gave her vertigo. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it all out.

A few moments later, they stopped moving, and she heard a door burst open. Where were they? Before she could gather her senses, she was in the air, thrown several meters away, landing with a hard thud. A sharp pain traveled down her body as she rolled into the wall across them. The shriek that tried to escape her throat emerged as a strained, shallow whine.

The man stomped out, leaving her alone in the room. “Stop…!” she rasped out, managing to tilt her neck upwards, head pounding.

The bodyguard slammed the door shut, followed by a bang and a clattering sound that could only mean he’d broken the doorknob of whatever room she was in.

Marinette's vision became more and more blurred. At the verge of losing consciousness, she fought to keep her eyes open as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

No, she couldn’t pass out! She had to save Adrien! Stay awake, Marinette, stay awake!!

She bit down on her lip hard, focusing on the sharp sting, on the swelling that was already forming around her right eye, forcing herself to feel the pain her body was in. At this moment, feeling pain was better than falling unconscious. She concentrated on her breathing, slowly regaining her senses.

She reached down to open her purse and get Tikki’s help… only to be met with emptiness. Panic settled in her gut as she realized that sometime during the skirmish, the purse had slipped off her shoulder. She sat up, slowly, so she wouldn’t risk feeling faint again from the change in positions.

She squinted, adjusting her eyesight to the darkness of the room. It seemed to be some sort of supply closet. After a failed few attempts to stand, she crawled towards the door instead, careful not to bump into the crates and shelves that filled the area.

The girl eyed the broken doorknob wearily. She was pretty proficient at lockpicking and breaking into things, but not as good at breaking out. Her only hope was that Tikki would be able to find her… if she was even nearby.

She swore to herself. Why had she rushed in and attacked two grown ass men (who, incidentally, may or may not be supernatural to boot!) instead of hiding and creating a strategy?! Now she was useless, Tikki was gone, and Adrien was surely on his way to get auctioned to the highest bidder in the criminal black market and ransomed off for an enormous sum. Great job, Marinette. Adrien’s been abducted and it’s all your fault.

Gathering all the determination she could muster, she tried to call out for help. But her voice was still too hoarse, and only a weak croak came out. She clenched her fists, grumbling irritably. Time for a different approach. Somehow, she needed to make noise.

After a brief search, she found a hard, metallic object that she could use to hammer on the door. She tested it out; it was surprisingly effective. She doubled her efforts, making as big a racket as possible. Hopefully, it would only be a matter of time before somebody heard her, let her out, and she could go find Adrien.

She couldn’t let anything else happen to another loved one. Not again.

–––––

I'M REEEAAAAALLY SORRY FOR THAT CLIFFHANGER JSHDKFJHSKDF ᕕ(╯°д°)ᕗ I tried splitting up the sections differently but it didn't really flow as well.

But the next chapter is almost done, so I'll have it ready by next weekend!!

#Miraculous Ladybug #Ladynoir #Enemies AU #enemies to lovers #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Ladybug #fanfiction #Discordant Sonata #ML AU #aged up #Eden writes

156 notes · View notes

gay-ghosts-committing-crimes · 3 years

Text

But the Way That You Act Isn’t Good for Your Health

AO3 link here

Summary: Once upon a time, Alex's parents were cool. They cared deeply about him and his friends. Once upon a time, Alex hadn’t come out yet. OR Five times Alex’s parents were there for him and his friends, and the one time they weren’t.

Warnings: Homophobia, swearing, mention of conversion therapy

Words: 3,899

taglist, just ask to be added or removed: @barrel-of-cat-mituna @completekeefitztrash @tiergan-andrin-alenefar @lemontarto @hershis-kotlc @genesiscaveat @everything-else-and-mars @juline-dizznee @chaotic-basics @an-absolute-travesty @classyfunnyquotesmuffin7 @iamstealingyourgenderaswespeak @itstiger720 @introvertedscarecrow @sunset-telepath @an-idiot-in-a-trenchcoat @cowboypossume @anaccidentwaitingtohappen @sofia-not-sophie @fire-sapphics @dr-alan-grant-blog-blog @real-smooth @juline-dizznee @it-tastes-like-lizard

Alex's stomach twisted and his fingers twisted into the hem of his shirt, tugging and pulling at it like it was a lifeline. The yelling outside continued. Beside him Luke patted his arm, his nine year-old face screwed up in concern for his friend. On his other side sat Reggie, leaning close and fidgeting with Alex's free hand. He was solemn too, but in a different way than Luke, closer to Alex's anxious tap-dancing heart.

Alex's chin jerked up as his dad opened the driver's seat door and stepped in, and he subconsciously tightened his grip on Reggie's hand.

"What's going on?" He asked, when his mom finally got in as well. It was supposed to be a fun outing for the boys; The day was warm and the beach was open, and the three nine year-old boys were tired of being cooped up inside. He stopped twisting at his shirt and his fingers moved to tapping at his leg when his parents shared a look.

Reggie pressed closer to his side, and Luke did his best to put his arm around them both.

"I've got you," He said gravely, his soft voice offset by the slight whistle caused by the gap left behind where a top tooth had once lived.

Alex's parents finished their silent conversation and Mary, Alex's mom, turned to face them.

"Sometimes people get angry and don't act well, but that doesn't mean it's right, okay? That man out there is one of those people right now, so you boys and I are going to stay in the car for a little bit while Mr. Mercer gets out and makes sure the man doesn't hurt that young lady, that sound good?"

Alex nodded and his breathing evened a little bit. The yelling was scary, but he knew his dad could handle it, his dad was the strongest man in the whole world.

Reaching across the console, Mr. Mercer gave Mrs. Mercer's hand a light squeeze.

"I'll be alright, Mary." Alex's mom gave a soft smile and nodded, but the crinkle in her brow stayed in its place.

"I know Paul, I love you." A quick kiss was pressed to her knuckles and then he was out of the car, the door closed behind him.

The three boys waited with bated breath as the shouting paused, started up again and then stopped abruptly. There was a low discussion, and even through the car Alex could tell the words were angry. He took Reggie's small hands in his own -he knew how his friend got when people yelled- and rubbed it with his thumb. Reggie gave him an appreciative smile, and Alex smiled back, glad that the action had helped calm them both down. A man rushed past the front of the car, pausing a moment to aim a kick at it before running off, swearing profusely. The three boys jolted and Mary's hand flew to her mouth with a gasp, but he didn't come back and they relaxed a fraction.

After another minute, Mr. Mercer returned to the car, slipping into the driver's seat silently and sitting there for a long moment. Finally he moved, putting the car in reverse and getting ready to pull out, then stopped abruptly. He turned to the backseat, studying the boys' faces.

"Boys?"

"Yes, Mr. Mercer?" they responded in unison.

"Always respect women. Treat them decent and keep them safe, okay? And the same goes for you, if someone isn't treating you right, get out of there, you deserve to be safe." The boys shared wide-eyed glances as Mr. Mercer started pulling out again, but they nodded anyway.

It took a long time for the boys to start talking again, but eventually the silence was broken by Luke, who elbowed Alex in the ribs.

"I think your dad is a superhero, 'Lex."

Alex thought of the girl his dad had protected, her face shiny with tears when he had managed to twist around in his seat to look, shiny but relieved, and he agreed. His dad was a superhero.

"Hey 'Lex? Is it... Is it okay if I come over to your house for a sleepover? Bobby can't and Luke-" Alex was already asking his mom before Reggie even finished his stumbling words, his voice tinny through the Mercer family's Nokia, knowing after a few years of friendship that his voice only wobbled on days where it was too much for him to be alone.

(Alone with two people. Two people who never stopped fighting for long except to criticize the kid that did everything to make them happy. Everything except be enough, apparently. Alex sometimes wished it was okay to want people to go to hell, but Reggie didn't want that, and his mom said that was bad... Still, Alex was Not a Fan of the Peters’ parents.)

And if Bobby wasn't available...

Bobby had shown up about a year prior, and Reggie had immediately decided that he was going to be a part of their friend-group. To Bobby's credit, he seemed to be fond of Reggie, and that was a quick in to the group in Luke and Alex's book. After a while, Bobby grew to be the one Reggie went to when he needed someone, but couldn't handle being around everybody. He'd go over to Bobby's and all of the other boy's gruffness would melt at the sight of him, and Bobby would make it okay.

Bobby was Reggie’s go-to, but Reggie was coming to him, so Alex needed to be there for Reggie.

"Mom?" He waited patiently as she finished putting the casserole she had been preparing in the oven, her blonde hair shimmering and haloed in the evening light coming in through the kitchen windows, and he was reminded of the art of Mary, Jesus’ mother, and how a golden halo had adorned her head too. His mom brushed her hands off and peeked in the oven one last time before tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear and turning to face him, eyes smiling.

“What’s up, bug?”

“Can Reggie come over?” And then her eyes were softening even more, and for a moment Alex wondered if Mary was as kind as his mom. His mom who always made sure to give Reggie an extra hug, to praise Luke on his singing, and to press a kiss to Bobby’s head and laugh when he twisted away and pretended that he hated it, even though a smile tugged at his lips. His mom who always knew just how to cheer his friends up. Alex thought about it for a minute more and then decided no, his mom was the kindest and prettiest out of all the moms, even Jesus’.

“Of course he can, I’ll even make my special macaroni and cheese!” Alex’s mom gave a small grin and ushered Alex back out of the kitchen. “Now scooch! I’ve got to finish the casserole.”

He giggled and let Reggie know that he could stay, that it was gonna be okay, that Reggie could probably even bring over the guitar he was starting to learn how to play, and they could jam together.

He glanced back at his mom, her hair still gold in the light, and grinned at her soft, tired, and slightly sad smile. She blew a kiss and tucked a strand of gold behind her ear, and then Alex was away again, cheering his friend up over the phone while he gathered some stuff for their sleepover.

Alex heaved a sigh and scrubbed a hand over his face; He had a terrible headache, and the way practice was going? He wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of the band did too.

“Okay Luke, I get we want this perfect, but it’s hot and I have a headache, is there any way we could take a quick breather?”

Luke, surprisingly, just gave a loose nod and flopped onto their couch, face in a weak scowl, more brought on by frustration at the music than any anger towards Alex. It had been a rough week at home for him, and in his mind their struggle with this song was probably one more confirmation that his mom was right, that his music was only dragging him and his friends down.

It tore Alex apart, to see Luke like that, so he slumped onto the space beside Luke, elbowing him slightly before relaxing into the cushion, making sure to “annoyingly” slouch against Luke. The couch was big enough for all four of them to squeeze together, and had taken three of them to carry it into the Mercer’s garage the day they had found it at some estate sale the summer before, and now it was a regular occurrence to find the boys gathered together, bodies tangled together haphazardly on the worn piece of furniture.

Soon, Bobby joined in, grumbling about how sweaty Luke was, but taking the time to ruffle his hair before settling in, patting the spot beside him for Reggie to take. Luke swatted at Bobby’s hand and rolled his eyes as he half-heartedly tried to shove Alex away, inevitably giving in to the crushing affection of his friends and sighing heavily.

They sat that way for a stretch, silence strung between them like unlit Christmas lights; Noticeable, and somehow liminal, waiting for something to flick them on. The thick air felt like an inverted weighted blanket, just as heavy but the direct opposite of comfortable, and Alex lazily found himself wondering if they should add Christmas lights to the garage.

“Alright, enough of the moping guys, we’ll get this!!” And then Luke was hopping up off the couch, so what if it was clear that the pep in his voice was fake? He turned back to the boys and swung his arms wide, “We just gotta take a short break and come back and whip this song.”

His smile was achingly wide (and painfully put-on) but Alex found himself smiling back. Luke might be a hardheaded dumbass sometimes, but they were still friends, and Alex wanted Luke to see that he wasn’t the failure he thought he was.

“Sure, because we were the ones moping,” Alex rolled his eyes and heaved himself up, tugging Reggie up behind him, and headed to the door, yelling back over his shoulder-

“Last one into my parent’s kitchen gets the armchair!”

The rest of the boys launched after him, knowing the stakes of being forced to sit alone on the Mercer’s uncomfortable armchair versus being able to crowd together on their couch was more important than whatever claims of friendship came before. Bobby attempted to shove Luke behind him, only managing to allow Reggie to get a head start, and scuffled at the doorway, Luke pulling at his shirt and biting at his hand.

“No fair man, I was already farther away!!”

Alex only laughed, throwing open the door to his house and making a break for the couch as the other boys tumbled in after him.

“Hey mom!” He called out, “The boys are trying to kill m-” He was interrupted by a decorative pillow to the face and a crow of laughter from Luke as Reggie gave Bobby a high-five.

“Oh hi boys, I didn’t know you’d be coming in today! Reggie, it’s so nice to see you again, how’s your sister?” Mary Mercer walked in smiling from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel.

“And Luke!! I haven’t seen you in weeks besides creeping into our garage to play that marvelous music of yours. When do you plan on giving us a concert? I expect a friends and family discount of course,” She winked and gave a small chuckle.

“Paul and I have loved hearing you boys practice, and you’ve developed so much just this summer! Of course, I’ve always loved your music, but lyrically? Why, you’ve become a genius when it comes to lyrics. We’re so proud of you.”

She squeezed Bobby’s shoulder and gave him a fond smile before heading back to the kitchen.

“I made some sugar cookies and lemonade; I’d planned to bring it out to you boys, but since you’re inside now… Well, might as well enjoy the air conditioning.”

Luke, who had practically bloomed like a flower previously wilting, followed her into the kitchen, his smile now genuine and brighter than the sun itself, and the rest of the band followed.

“Say Mrs. Mercer, do you think we really could do a concert?”

The boys had sat down at the kitchen table, quickly downing most of the cookies, and Luke had taken the pause in eating to probe what Mrs. Mercer had said earlier. She stilled from where she stood at the sink and hesitated before turning to look at the boys with a gentle smile.

“Of course I do, Luke. Mr. Mercer and I have always admired your talents, and all of you boys are amazing musicians. I would love to see you build your skills even more, and I’m certain other people would adore your music.”

Alex watched as Luke grinned and tucked into another cookie, warmth filling his chest.

And later, when his mom pulled him aside and asked if Luke was doing alright, he pulled her into a tight hug and replied, “I’m pretty sure he’s doing a lot better, thanks to you.”

Alex wasn’t sure what to think when his chest started tightening and his breathing became erratic and painful. Maybe he was dying. Maybe he had a terrible hidden sickness and now something had triggered it and, oh God maybe he was dying.

He was dying and he didn’t tell his mom that he loved her that morning, and Luke didn’t know that he was one of the most incredible songwriters Alex had ever known. He couldn’t breathe and Reggie didn’t know that he meant the world to Alex, and Bobby didn’t know just how fucking much Alex cared and how much he loved it when Bobby gave him one of his rare hugs.

Because now Alex was dying and he couldn’t breathe and everything was foggy and maybe he was sobbing but his chest was so tight that he couldn’t see how he could breathe in enough to cry, let alone sob. And this was it, wasn’t it? Alex was dying alone and it was so fucking stupid because how did he go from writing his essay for English homework to this? To this sobbing panicked mess, rocking on the floor?

He was fucking dying and it was on his kitchen floor. And he was freezing and sweating and God, his stomach hurt too and maybe he wasn’t dying, maybe Alex was just going to lay there and be tortured. Nope, he was going to die, and holy fuck he wasn’t ready for heaven. His heart was going a mile a minute, and of course this was going to be how he died and-

His death was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder and Alex tried jerking away but he couldn’t move. He could only shake and suck in for breath as the hand carefully pulled him into a sitting position and a low voice started pushing through the fog in his brain.

“Alex? Alex, bud… breathe with me, okay? It’ll be okay.”

But how could he fucking breathe? How could Alex breathe when it felt like his heart was going to explode at any second, his lungs captured in a vice, when his mind couldn’t hold onto a single thought for more than a second-

“Alex, you gotta work with me kid, you just gotta breathe, okay? Breathe in for as long as you can, and then hold that breath. You got it ‘Lex, c’mon, breathe with me. Alright, slow breath out now- you got it-”

And then the hand was his father, and the voice telling him to breathe was his dad, telling him he loved him and that it was okay, that Alex was okay.

Alex kept breathing, and his dad kept holding his hand, and telling him he could do it, that he was proud. Eventually Alex’s heart rate slowed, and while he felt nauseous and exhausted, he could breathe now.

It was okay, he was okay.

“Dad?”

“Yeah ‘Lex?”

“I… Thank you.”

“Always kiddo. And Alex?” Alex looked up at his dad and gave a weak hum. “If you have another panic attack, tell me? You don’t need to be going through that alone.”

Alex nodded and sagged back into his father’s waiting arms.

He was okay.

“Alex! C’mere really quick, I need your help with something!”

Alex looked up from where he sat cross-legged on the floor of his room at the sound of his dad’s voice. He sighed and pushed himself up, ruffling Bobby’s hair on his way out. The band had been brainstorming which songs to perform at their next gig, not that it was going to be very big, but Alex figured that Luke and Reggie were more of the brains of that particular operation, so he set off without a complaint.

Bobby swatted at his hand and rolled onto his back, closing his eyes and leaving Reggie and Luke to be the only one’s actually going through their songs.

“Yeah dad?” Alex leaned over the staircase railing, eyeing the way his father sat hunched over at the table, a scratch piece of paper in front of him, and a pencil tucked behind his ear. Paul Mercer was a tall man with piercing blue eyes, soft brown hair, and a wry smile. Alex liked to think he took after him, aside for the blondness of his own hair.

“Ah, Alex. Can you come over here? I’m making a list.”

Alex raised an eyebrow at that.

“O….kay?” He hopped off the last step and pulled up a chair beside his dad, taking a closer glance at the paper.

Extra blankets

Extra pillows

(extra clothes??)

Pool money for mini fridge

Add loft

“Dad, what’s all this for?”

His father scrubbed a hand over his face, pulling his hand down to rest his chin on his palm.

“I’ve been thinking, well, your mother and I have been, and… your friends…”

“Yeah?” Alex’s voice was sharp, but his dad was acting weird, and he was protective of the boys.

“They don’t have the best home life, so your mom and I were thinking about making the garage more your space. The couch is already in there, so we figured, if you boys wanted, to give it fully to the band. Blankets and pillows for when one of them needs to stay over, a fridge, which, granted, you boys would need to pay for part of it, some odds and ends you boys might need. What do you think?”

Alex turned his eyes up to his father’s and worked his jaw, his throat tight.

“Dad… That’d be great, yeah.”

His dad’s face broke into a relieved smile, and he clapped Alex on the back.

“Alright, well then. You can go back up, but if you think of anything to add, I’m drawing blanks for anything else.”

“Yeah, okay, thanks dad.”

When Alex walked back into his room a few minutes later, Luke and Bobby in an arm-wrestling competition on his bed, Reggie egging them on, he rolled his eyes and smiled.

He was grateful that his parents cared as much for these dumbasses as he did.

“Alright boys, break it up!” He sat on the bed with them, giving a yelp when Bobby launched at him and put him in a headlock before rubbing his knuckles on his head.

He smiled.

+1.

“Supper’s ready!” Mary Mercer called from the dining room, and Alex took a shaky breath and rubbed his sweaty palms on the front of his shirt before walking into the room and sitting at the table.

His dad wandered in next, pressing a kiss to his mom’s forehead, and settling hard into the chair across from Alex.

“Ah! Chicken pot pie! Delicious.”

Alex gave a half-hearted nod of agreement, his stomach churning as he eyed the food in front of him. This was usually one of his favourite meals.

“Well, shall we say grace?” The family of three held hands, Mr. Mercer saying a short blessing while Alex sent up his own frantic plea.

Just let them accept me, God, please.

“-Amen.”

Mrs. Mercer began serving the food and Alex waited anxiously until all of their plates were full to interject.

“Hey mom, dad?” His stomach twisted harder, and he felt his face already heating up. His parents waited expectantly, his mom smiling encouragingly and his father giving a nod. He could do this.

“I’ve been thinking about this, and… I’ve been really struggling with it. It’s been this way as long as I remember, it’s not a big thing it’s just- I’m gay.”

There. It was out.

Alex’s shoulders were hunched, and his eyes tightly closed. A piece of silverware clattered on a plate, a gasp. Good sign or bad sign? Good sign or-

An awkward throat-clearing.

“Son.” His dad’s voice was low and oh shit, Alex had misjudged this and his dad wasn’t happy and-

He opened his eyes.

Fuck.

His father’s eyes were full of anger, and his mother… Alex’s mom sat in shock, her hand covering her mouth, the tablecloth in front of her a mess of food, her abandoned fork lying prone and vulnerable. Alex found himself relating to it.

“Alexander…” his mom tried, pausing a moment before giving a small unbelieving scoff. “Surely you’re joking. You know our family isn’t like that.”

“And!” Mr. Mercer added, “It’s not funny either.”

Alex’s stomach dropped even further.

“No, dad- mom- I’m actually gay. That’s just part of who I am! I’m still Alex, I just. Can’t make myself like girls.” And he should have stopped. He should have stopped before he even said anything, but he was anxious and why weren’t his parents saying it was okay? Why weren’t they saying they still loved him? And-

“I… like boys instead.”

If words could be knives then they could also be nails, and Alex had just successfully finished the construction of his very own coffin.

A chair slid across the floor, and then his father was pointing angrily and telling him to “get to his fucking room” but Mr. Mercer didn’t yell, and he didn’t swear. Mr. Mercer helped Alex through panic attacks over school, and told him stories about the ocean, and Mr. Mercer never, ever swore.

Except Alex was stumbling, shell-shocked and heartbroken, up the stairs and to his room, and his dad was turning back to his mom and saying “How the hell did we raise him to be a homosexual?” and Alex’s eyes were filling with tears, his chest was tightening up, and he couldn’t breathe.

He shut the door behind him, leaning against it and sliding to the ground as his breathing became even more ragged. Alex wasn’t okay and his parents weren’t okay with him, and as he felt another panic attack coming over him, he used the breathing exercises that the very same man who was now talking about kicking him out, had taught him.

Alex fell asleep to the sound of raised voices.

He woke up to a conversion therapy camp’s pamphlet being shoved under his door.

#alex #Alex Mercer #alex mercer's parents #bobby #bobby shaw #luke #luke patterson #Reggie #Reggie Peters #jatp #jatp fanfic #julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #felony writes shit

35 notes · View notes

korijime · 4 years

Text

— apaixonar

(verb.) to fall in love with someone or something, the act of falling in love

shigaraki tomura, boku no hero academia

fluff, modern!college!au, social anxiety, slightly sexual jokes, swearing

wc ; one thousand six hundred and fifty nine words

dt ; @t-amajiki

riyuu says ; ahh, i don’t know what to say here. i started this last night, but i got the idea a really long time ago in one of our conversations. i was really scared about getting his character right and i hope i did it some justice. big thank you to @tokyoghoose for proof-reading!! i’d have cried if the mistakes you pointed out weren’t fixed sbdubdidjd

this is kinda a part of a series..i guess? there’s two more fics coming, so i guess it’s 1/3 of the fics i wrote for gere and 1/6 of all the gifts i made for them in total.

so yes, happy birthday, gere. i love you to the moon and back and i’d do damn near anything for you. i hope you like your gifts. ♡

“oi, crusty, look over there.”

the ‘crusty’ in question, a pale-faced young man, cast an annoyed glance in the direction of his partner’s finger. he never once listened to what dabi had to say, yet he knew from the tone in his voice that it would be something that had to do with you. and so he looked, and he didn’t regret listening.

he looked past the window of the chemistry lab, past the other annoyances, and towards you, sitting in the grass with your green-haired friend. he looked at you, sitting in the grass with the late morning sunlight engulfing most of your form, casting a makeshift halo over your head. a well-deserved one, at that. subconsciously resting his face onto his gloved hand, he turned completely towards the window, towards you, his experiment long forgotten.

“okay, jesus christ, stop it. you look like a creep.”

and there goes the moment.

his once ‘softened’ eyes and good mood vanished as soon as dabi spoke up again, his form hunching and his face contorting into annoyance once again.

“no, i don’t. you’re the creep.”

“sure, i was the one who sighed when they smiled for the camera, right?”

“shut up. you’re the creep, i’m right.”

of course that bastard was looking at him while he, in dabi’s words, ‘fawned’ over you.

he didn’t. he just knew how to appreciate good things. it didn’t really matter whether or not his cheeks and ears became heaters whenever you’d look at him, it happens to everyone.

right?

“not right. factually incorrect. you’re a dumbass, go ask them out.”

“i’m the dumbass when you’re the one who blew up our project not even two minutes ago? i’m not a mirror, you easy-bake oven.”

and so on and so forth, until the bell finally rang to signal the end of their day.

tomura shigaraki, never one to listen to anything his ‘best friend’ says, never one to hang around anyone except dabi and a few others, was seen moving methodically and quite swiftly through the halls of u.a academy, heading straight towards the small group of third-years standing at the far end of the corridor.

they’d known him for three years, they knew his mannerisms and the way his mind worked. it was only natural that both toga and twice had to fish out five dollars each to hand to a very smug-looking dabi, who only watched with a shit-eating grin as tomura went up to you.

he could feel his friends’ eyes on his back, but it didn’t register in his mind which was currently screaming at him to get the hell out of this situation what were you thinking because now not only you and your friends but a couple of other students and even teachers in the corridor were gawking at the infamous anti-social boy who was looking at his shoes like they were the love of his life and not you.

his stomach twisted and churned painfully, the nausea he felt was nothing compared to the embarrassment and humiliation he felt, the same embarrassment which was painted bright on his face.

maybe he could just pretend he wanted your notes and call it a day and go home and cry—

“aye, you crusty fuck! don’t chicken out now or you’re doing my homework for the next week!”

fuck that fucking blue haired porcupine ass smug-looking son of a bit-

“ne, shigaraki-kun, did you need something?”

he sent his prayers to whatever god was above for sending an actual angel to be standing in front of him and pull him out of his formerly very quickly approaching spiral.

“are you..areyoufreeafterclasses?”

you furrowed your brows and stepped closer to him, ignoring the way tsuyu tried to pull you back. tomura was your friend, or at the very least, your acquaintance, she had no reason to be so wary.

“what was that? i didn’t catch that.”

the construction of the academy and the location of the institute was quite unfortunate, it would have been better suited in one of the islands near florida so that the bermuda triangle could’ve just swallowed it up so he wouldn’t have to be in this situation where he wanted nothing more than to evaporate into fucking water vapour why are you looking at him like THAT-

“are..you free after classes? i need your help with something.”

“oh! yeah, sure! what do you need help with?”

and apparently that was the director’s cue for everyone to go back to minding their own business. the students’ chatters started up again and the ones that had stopped to watch realised they had better things to do than gawk at the college loner asking the pretty one for help. even your friend group stepped back to let the two of you have some semblance of privacy, and tomura had never felt more relieved.

“you’re, uh, in fine arts, right? i have a project on that and i need to know more about it.”

he made the effort to finally look up and he was glad he did. like really, really glad. because the way you were looking at him with the same smile you’d given the camera, your hands clasped together as you leaned towards him, really just made all the embarrassment and humiliation worth it.

“sure! just let me say bye to my friends and we can get going, i know a good cafe near the campus.”

he only nodded and turned at the same time you did, heading towards the shitheads while you headed for your friends.

“would you look at that, crusty-no-balls finally grew some.”

“nice one, tomura! make sure to get their number!”

“toga-chan, they will be studying together, i doubt they’ll have time for that.”

and the rest was tuned out as he leaned on his locker, looking out towards the gates and back at you. he really did that, didn’t he? worked up the guts to ask you out, even if it was under the guise of a study session. which wasn’t a complete lie, what the hell did ‘fine arts’ mean, anyway?

“visual arts! stuff like painting and architecture and theatre, alongside others. i’m pretty sure poetry and prose are on there too.”

“wait, so you’re taking all of that? how.”

it was late afternoon now, around three or four when he had last checked. time wasn’t really important right now, not when he managed to kill two birds with one stone.

he was getting to spend time with you and do his project, added with you talking about your passions as a bonus.

he stopped typing and reached for his drink, which he did not choose because you told him to, thank you very much and fuck off, dabi.

looking back towards the screen, he realised he was almost done with his project, which was a surprise as he was sure he was paying zero attention to the project itself and hundred percent attention to you instead.

could anyone blame him? no.

no, they couldn’t.

they couldn’t blame him for having his attention on you when you went into the fine details of prose and theatre, using hand gestures to try and get across the point which you couldn’t do so with words. apparently you thought he knew sign language. which he did. it was an option, seemed interesting, nothing more nothing less.

is what he told dabi when he asked. but no, the real reason was the one you knew, which was the fact that the shelter he volunteers at has some people who prefer to use sign language, whatever the reason may be. he knew how it felt to be forced into doing something even though you’re comfortable with something else, but you can’t do that something else because it’s not convenient for others.

so yeah, sign language.

he was pretty sure it earned him some brownie points with you, for which he wasn’t complaining.

what he was complaining about, though, was the fact that you thought it’d be a good idea to steal a bite of his pastry while he was lost in thought.

“hey! thief. stop that.”

“no, it looked tasty.”

“okay, and so do you. you don’t see me biting you.”

..the fuck?

what the FUCK did he just-

run.

take your laptop, and your phone, and your bag, and get the hell out.

his mind kept chanting that over and over, and he was listening to it, his clammy hands reaching to close his laptop as he got up but then. stopped.

you were laughing. at him. you were laughing at his major fuck-up.

“ne, ne, tomura-kun. i had no idea you were into that.”

yes, yes, he knows. he knows it’s weird and that it’s a weird thing to say to someone who he has a crush on and-

“honestly, the last time i made a joke like that, deku combusted and iida looked constipated.”

“wh-what was the joke?”

“i’ll show you later!”

he choked.

“show me!?”

“you sure sound excited, tomura-kun.”

the grin on your face did nothing to calm the hundred-mile marathon that both his heart and mind had been running ever since he said that.

what was even happening anymore.

that was the question which kept running through his mind even as he walked you home, thanking you for your help.

“no worries! i’d love to spend more time with you.”

what was happening.

“oh and, i also have an assignment due, do you think you could help me with it?”

“yeah, sure. same cafe?”

“sounds good! i’ll see you friday, then!”

“mhm.”

what the fuck was happening.

he’d like to say he didn’t care nor did he think about it, but the way you hugged him goodbye with a promise to see him again left the smallest of smiles on his face which didn’t go away for a while.

tagged ; @t-amajiki @tokyoghoose @kei7ime @inarizsunarin @tsukkiboii @spicyfoodboi @kakiwrites @lcaita @lnarizakis @kuro0luvr @himichii

#shigaraki tomura #➤ gere !!#shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #bnha #mha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #birthday gifts !

117 notes · View notes

neutron-stars-collision · 4 years

Text

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 18 - Holy Ghost

Masterlist; Chapter 17

Summary: First few days in Tallinn are like a calm before the storm, while you and Neil are getting used your new dynamic. It proves to be rather surprising...

Warnings: 18+ (yep, she did it again because these two wanted to); swearing.

Author’s Notes: So ummm... I’m not sure what happened here and you’ll be the judges of that. All I can say is that I’ve been inspired by the skewed tie and that Tallinn will take at least two more chapters because they keep getting distracted. Hope you’ll enjoy! Feedback is always welcome as I’m not sure what I’m doing...🙈

The lovely edit has been provided by my amazing and talented friend @sh3tani (thanks for putting up with my bs 💕)

Despite technically being a Tenet agent for a while, the dramatic changes of pace in your life never failed to amaze you. After that careless morning in London, mere hours later you got the text from TP, sending you and the Cavalry to Tallinn. Minutes afterwards, Neil burst into your room saying that the younger TP called, giving him directions to run a few lab tests and then to meet him in the capital of Estonia, as well. Neither of you had any clues as to why but then that was rather expected.

That is how you found yourself in a safe house in the suburbs of Tallinn. For security and convenience, you have joined Ives’s squad there while Neil booked a hotel room nearby to keep up the appearances before TP. For the first few days, the boss has not yet arrived in the city, and therefore, as Neil put it, there was much more room to maneuver. Whatever that meant.

Estonian safe house was a relatively vast apartment on the ground floor of an old brick house. It had six bedrooms furnished with simple Ikea beds, bedside tables, and a small wardrobe. There was also one bathroom (hell of an inconvenience for nine people occupying the place) and a kitchen opening into a living room with sofas and tv. The space was nearly barren save for the objects needed to survive for however long you were bound to stay there. On the day of your arrival, Ives sent you and Wheeler to the shop for the supplies, reasoning being that apparently you two had most brain cells in the whole team. You enjoyed the possibility to charge your introvert batteries before days spent with eight people, of which only two you actually knew. With close to no information concerning the point of the mission, the days have been spent idly chatting, playing games, and watching television. In Estonian, naturally. For you, a crucial part of the survival became continuous reception and the ability to reach out to Neil when needed. Which was often and soon became a passing joke among the rest of the company. Once Henrik tried to steal your phone and ended up with a bread knife pressed against his neck, the innocent fun ended. That was on day two.

Luckily you got your own room, while the others were forced to share. This you owed to the fact that you were not part of the squad and hence had the right to privacy. It proved rather useful the day when unexpected company came. You were busy trying not to burn the scrambled eggs on a scratched-up pan, half humming a song you heard on the radio. Despite the early hour, everyone was up and either moving about or outside on a run. If there was anything you have learned from the experience so far, it was that Tenet soldiers started the day early and were shit at cooking. Eggs, instant noodles, and oven pizzas were the menu staples. Sighing, you picked up the only clean plate left when you heard a commotion in the hallway. Not long after, a voice called out:

“Y/N? You’ve got a visitor” you did not like the amused undertone in that information.

“Yeah…?” hesitantly, you stepped into the hallway.

The cheeky grin was quite the sight at 9 am.

“Good morning, sunshine” you resisted the urge to break the plate on Neil’s head.

At least he brought coffee.

“Hey,” warily you looked at Michael, who was loitering next to you, interested in the situation “Should we…?” looking at the door to your room, you met Neil’s gaze.

“Naturally” he smiled and followed you in.

Only once you closed the door behind you both, blocking out the curious stares, you breathed out the air you did not know you were holding. You set the plate on the bedside table and grinned as Neil carelessly threw himself onto your bed.

“Thought I’ll get a kiss or something for all that awkwardness out there” you commented, eyeing the man sprawled on your mattress.

Briefly, you marvelled at how you have managed to become this comfortable with each other. But then almost having sex was bound to count for something. Supposedly.

“You will if you come here” Neil raised his head and extended a hand in an invitation.

Mournfully you glanced at your abandoned breakfast and crossed the space, intertwining your fingers with his. You were not surprised when Neil pulled you down onto the bed, only just managing not to lie on him. Feigning disappointment, he huffed and leaned in, kissing you slowly. Deepening the kiss, you tangled your fingers in his hair, bringing him closer. With legs interlocked, half-lying on the narrow bed, it was all too real. In moments like this, it was easy to believe that maybe it was meant to be. Breaking up the kiss, you opened your eyes to stare at Neil. In the soft light coming through the opened shutters, you could clearly see the darker rims around his blue irises. In the morning, his eyes resembled the colour of an ocean. The long eyelashes framing the eyes and the eyebrows, furrowed in concentration, gazing back at you. Your eyes then landed on his parted mouth, the corners turned down slightly, and the shape of his lips. You wondered how someone this beautiful could choose you among all the people in the universe.

“Your breakfast and the coffee are getting cold” he murmured, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Do you want me to get up?” running your fingertips over his temple, you reveled in the intimacy of the moment.

Neil smiled and raised your joined hands to kiss your knuckles.

“Not really. I like having you this close so I can stare” he admitted with a sheepish grin.

“Same, actually,” you mirrored his expression, dragging fingers through the golden hair.

It seemed like your London evening full of important conversations gave you more confidence. Suddenly it was not that scary to share your thoughts and feelings with him because there was a chance he will understand. Or at least not ridicule you. As though Neil was reading your mind, he asked:

“What are you thinking about?” you could tell he was genuinely interested.

That was enough to make you feel a surge of feelings towards him. Maybe it won’t hurt to say something… Taking a deep breath, you warned:

“Just don’t laugh,”

“I’ll do my best” Neil bopped your nose quickly, making your brain short-circuit for a second.

What even. Focusing all your attention on him, your eyes wandered over his face. Resting on all the features that made him the man you loved.

“Sometimes I just can’t get over how beautiful you are… like a bloody masterpiece” you cupped his cheek “And I’ve no clue why you’re so fixed on me” sighing dejectedly, you awaited a response.

If the slightly widened eyes were any clue, he was surprised by your admission.

“That was probably the best compliment I’ve ever gotten” Neil stumbled over the sentence.

So, it was worth saying. For another time, you left the discussion on how that could even be true.

“Have you seen yourself though? How could I not be fixed on you?” it was Neil’s turn to cup your cheek, making you blush.

The pure confidence in his eyes was too much to bear at the moment. Sitting up, you kicked him lightly, enjoying the affronted look.

“Now you’re being ridiculous” you moved to stand up, but Neil took hold of your waist, sitting up as well.

You were too close again, noses brushing. It was easy to lean in and kiss him. Only when you did, a knock resounded in the room. Fucking hell.

“Can I come in?” the cockney accent was a giveaway “I bloody hope you two aren’t getting up to stuff”

Despite yourself, you giggled with your lips still brushing over Neil’s, making him sigh. For a millisecond, he tightened his grip over your waist and then let go and moved an inch away. You looked at him for permission before calling out:

“Be our guest”

In an attempt to look as casual as it was possible, you grabbed the plate with your cold eggs and passed Neil his coffee. Sitting back down on the bed, you pasted a neutral smile onto your face. As if that would divert anyone’s attention from your tangled hair and Neil’s flushed cheeks. Ives opened the door and scrutinized you both quickly, not missing how you frowned upon the first bite of your breakfast. Then he gave Neil a quick pat on the back:

“Good to see you, mate” he perched on the windowsill for the lack of any other furniture “I was hoping you’d at least come to say hi” he gave you both a knowing glance.

Cursing your own inability to say no to Neil, you grudgingly finished the eggs and took another sip of the lukewarm coffee. Next time, food first, then kissing. No matter how irresistible the bastard might be.

“I was planning to, only…” the bastard in question shrugged before glancing at you shortly.

“Oh, I know. Priorities and all that” Ives smirked upon your deepening blush “I get it, believe me. Plus, seeing how often Y/N is glued to her phone, I reckon you two are doing good” he winked.

Sensing Neil’s growing discomfort, you shot back:

“Don’t talk about me as though I wasn’t here” it was hard to look threatening when staring at someone like Ives, but you did your best.

“Or?” he arched his eyebrow amusedly.

“I’ll shoot you”

The sudden tense silence got interrupted by Neil breaking into a laugh, collapsing against you. So much for pretending you could keep away from each other. Once he calmed down, he rested his head on your shoulder and said:

“And that’s why I like you”

You did not know it was possible to blush even more. And yet. Even though what he said was hardly a surprise, he never mentioned anything like that with others present. Before you could come up with any response, Ives commented:

“Aren’t you two cute, eh?”

Lord give me strength…

“Ives” you warned, reaching for the gun you always kept in the drawer by the bed.

He laughed and raised his hands in defence.

“Okay, I’ll stop now” he glanced at Neil, who was comfortable enough, still leaning on you “Has he given you any more clues?”

You relaxed once the conversation steered onto more professional tracks.

“Not really. I ran the analysis on the gold bar he sent, and well, there’s literally nothing concrete there” Neil shrugged, “But I think it has something to do with the plutonium piece that went missing back in Kiev” he added.

“Is that part of the Algorithm?” you asked.

The topic has not really come up since your first conversation with TP in Boston, but from the information you got from Neil and others in the organisation, it seemed like the pieces were set in motion. In the Kiev Opera, another part of the compound has been lost. Maybe its purpose was to resurface in Tallinn so that you could take over.

“Yeah” Neil confirmed your suspicions with a curt nod.

“How… how do you know about this?” it was Ives’ turn to be confused, looking at you with palpable shock in his eyes.

Right… Sometimes it was hard to keep track of who knew what and why. And that was one of such moments. Straightening your back, you explained:

“TP told me. Apparently, I’ll have a role to play hence why I’m being dragged into this” glancing at Neil, who all of sudden looked rather sombre, you added, “Not only because of this idiot” giving in to the temptation, you ruffled his hair.

“…thanks” pouting, Neil moved away.

“Welcome”

*** You have left the apartment and quickly checked the maps again. Neil set your meeting for a rather obscure park square in the downtown area of the city since that was where he was supposed to meet TP later. At first, you wanted to refuse, to tell him that it was risky to go for a walk with the boss nearby. But then, you knew there was not much point in saying no to something that tempting. It was enough that you might not be able to spend time together at all the next few days.

Just when you were sure you have gotten lost in the greyness of the apartment blocks and identical streets, you spotted him waiting on the bench. The icy wind was ruffling his hair as Neil stared at the pavement, unaware of your attention. You smiled at the sight of his brown and green outfit and those strange shoes; you have seen the brogues before in Oslo. Now that was something worth a call out later. Ending the scrutiny, you approached him and, as a means of greeting, brushed the hair away from his forehead. That worked, as it always did. The blue eyes snapped up to meet yours:

“Hello” you offered him a small smile.

“Tere, kallis” the grin combined with the strange words he uttered made you frown.

“I hope that was something appropriate”

He took your hand in his and pulled you down onto his lap. The happy sparks in his eyes were almost enough to make you ignore the cold and the embarrassment of the situation.

“I thought you said we’re going for a walk” forcing a stern tone was difficult with how Neil gently cupped your flushed cheek.

“That we are. But first, I wanted to get you up close and personal” he brushed his nose against yours tenderly.

“I see…” with the corner of your eye you could see an older woman observing you from the nearby bench.

With a start, you realised how very much alike a couple you must look to any passerby. Sitting on Neil’s lap, with his arm securing you around the waist and your faces inches away, there were no questions about the nature of your relationship. But, somehow, that was okay. A stronger gust of wind made you shiver, which he noticed straight away and pulled you even closer, your lips nearly touching. The blue of his irises and the depth of focus in them made you gasp. It was always like this with him, as though you were the only person in the universe that mattered.

“We’ll get going now, only…” Neil met your gaze with a silent question.

You nodded. He could do anything he wanted anyway. He met your lips in a slow kiss, relishing in the feeling for at least half a minute. You placed your hand on the back of his neck to bring him a little closer, suddenly grateful for the position he put you in. Then, just as the kiss threatened to get more heated, Neil broke the contact and leaned back, taking in your dazed expression. He always knew how to get to you.

“Now we can go” he smirked, and you had no choice but to slide off his lap.

As soon as you were both standing, Neil grabbed your hand again and intertwined your fingers. As usual. It did seem like neither of you wanted to pretend today, and instead letting yourselves explore the ‘not-quite relationship’ you got into. For once, the voices in your head were silent, seemingly agreeing to the new developments. You did wonder how long that was bound to last.

“Ives says hi, by the way,” you broke the silence, looking around the cityscape.

This part of Tallinn certainly was not as picturesque as the city centre, but it had to do. After all, your sole focus was Neil. Not much else mattered when you were together. If that did not confirm your feelings, then god knows what did. Sighing, you turned to look at the man in question.

“You told him we’re meeting up?” he asked with a slight crease between his eyebrows.

Confusion, then.

“No. I just said that I’m going out for a walk, and he told me to say hi to you” laughing at the idiocy of the moment you brushed your thumb over his knuckles.

In response, you got the signature Neil grin that was the beginning of your downfall all those months previously. Despite the absolute horror you felt during the initial conversation with Ives, now it was somehow less terrifying.

“Ah, I see” his tongue clicked thoughtfully, only making you laugh harder.

It was difficult to get the next sentence out.

“He also added that he’s surprised he’s not yet caught you sneaking out of my room at night”

The small snorting sound Neil let out made you want to kiss him right there, in the middle of the busy street.

“Why do I feel like he wants it to happen” he glanced at you quickly with an amused expression.

“Maybe it’s his thing” you retorted, savoring the laugh it prompted from your companion.

After that first morning in the safehouse, you have both decided to try and keep away from any rash actions or decisions while in Estonia. You certainly had enough of interruptions, and with the team sharing the space, it was all too precarious. Hence you have been meeting up outside, for strolls or lunch, talking about everything and nothing. Only now, that TP was around, it was bound to change, and you expected that this might be the last of those stolen moments.

“I’m sorry that we had to meet around here today” Neil interrupted your slightly melancholic thoughts “I wanted to take you out somewhere again, but he called, and I think it will be on soon” he lowered his voice to a slightly conspicuous tone, making you smile.

“It’s okay, at least that means I’ll know why the fuck am I even here” shrugging, you looked around at the shops you have passed by.

“For me?” Neil batted his eyelashes innocently while tightening his hold over your hand.

“Apart from that” this time you allowed him honesty “Don’t you ever get tired though? Of me?” the self-sabotaging voice contributed a question.

It was too late to take it back. But the way Neil looked at you then, with disbelief and fondness, was enough to excuse the moment on insecurity.

He stopped walking, making you freeze despite the streams of people going in both directions. You were like an island amidst a fast-flowing river. Neil forced you to meet his gaze by tilting your chin upwards. There was nothing playful in his eyes, just sincerity and love. And determination.

“Do you need me to remind you why that’s impossible?” you did not know when did his voice become so husky.

“Maybe” biting your lip, you searched his face, fascinated and curious.

Neil glanced at the teeth nibbling on your lower lip, and his tongue darted out, seemingly on reflex. Oh. When his eyes met yours again, you could see a hint of a new emotion there. He was hesitating for approximately 10 seconds before he started leading you again with purpose. Before you could ask a single question, he turned sharply into a non-descript alley between two crumbling buildings. It was empty save for a few pieces of trash lying around and a rusted door at the other end, with a metal padlock and a heavy chain. But your quick scan of the environment got interrupted by Neil wrapping his arm around your waist and pushing you at one of the walls. Just before your head could hit the bricks, he cradled the back of it, providing a safeguard. Ever so thoughtful. Wide-eyed, you glanced up at him to gauge the intention. The darkness and resolve you found were enough of an indicator.

“The walk will have to wait” he spoke before crashing his lips against yours.

The instinct kicked in instantaneously, making you respond by bringing him closer with your hand taking hold of his tie. Kissing Neil was like a fix for an addiction you did not want to fight against. No matter how urgent it was, you could always find a tempo that suited you both, neither fighting for dominance. It was like a dance where both were willing to lead and follow. Neil bit into your lower lip, drawing blood, tinting the kiss with that coppery taste. Fuck. You gasped into his mouth, shivering when his tongue ran along the split, licking off the droplets. It was enough to make you want more. As a payback, you caught his upper lip with your teeth, tugging at it lightly to remind him of the potential. But only when you pulled on his tie sharply, making Neil almost collapse against you, he broke the kiss with a groan. His eyes were hazed with lust, making you lightheaded the more you kept on gazing. The bloody shade of red on his lips made your pulse quicken. You still kept the hold on his patterned tie, making sure he was within your reach. His tongue darted out and licked off the remains of blood. That was a good cue to sober up. You released his tie and placed your hand over his heart, relishing in the way he was looking at you, as though you were a sight he could never have enough of.

“Huh…” you broke the silence and glanced at the entryway to the alley.

Thankfully no spectators.

“Is this all you’re going to say?” Neil’s perplexed facial expression made you laugh.

Sometimes it was fascinating to see him that disoriented after a kiss. Because it was a clear sign that not only you were affected by everything that transpired. Another reason to believe that maybe the feeling was mutual. Calming down, you started toying with his shirt collar. Even though heated kisses in dirty alleys were never your kind of thing, with Neil that too was exciting. And something you wanted to repeat.

“I mean… this is rather nice” you met his confused gaze and added, “Being with you like this”

Coherence for more complex sentences was nowhere to be found.

“I’m glad because I wanted that last hour of normalcy before we go back to the usual” Neil staggered over the sentence as well, making your heart stumble with fondness.

Pouring the feeling into your gaze, you grinned at him, running your hands over his shirt and lapels. You knew exactly what he meant. But still, with tongue poking out, you noticed:

“That sentence didn’t make sense, and yet I agree” the way his eyes darted onto your lips was enough to cause a resurgence amidst the butterflies.

Neil leaned in again, eager for another kiss. But you had other ideas, struck with the courage to tease him a little. You dropped your head and kicked him in the foot lightly. Just enough to bring his attention onto the subject of your scrutiny.

“The hell are those shoes though” you smirked upon his utterly lost gaze.

“What? You don’t like them?” the slight pout only made your grin wider.

With the hair in disarray, reddened cheeks, and pink lips, he was more than a sight to behold. And all that because of you. Wow.

“They look a little like you wanted to channel Pennywise or something” you laughed at his blank stare “Remind me to go through your wardrobe one day because you’re selling yourself short with those fashion choices” to emphasize the point you tugged on his tie again and frowned.

But it seemed like Neil managed to recover enough. He placed both of his hands on the wall, blocking your way out. The well-known smirk came back too. You had a feeling that you were about to lose this one battle.

“And yet here you are” he practically purred with a hungry look in his eyes.

You swallowed. Whenever he got like this, showing how much he wanted you, it was hard to think. Raking your head for a response, you settled on honesty again.

“That’s because I admire your soul” eyeing him intently, you added “And hair”

You tugged on the golden strands, making him whine in frustration. Good.

“And eyes” he met your gaze purposefully, a hint of a knowing smile on his face.

Of course, he’d know.

“Yeah” you raised your head.

A challenge he took without hesitation. Neil reached for the scarf wrapped around your neck and loosened it just enough to have access. Before you could do as much as exhale, his lips were on your neck and throat, attacking all the spots that were bound to make you gasp and search for something to hold on to. Cursing, you closed your eyes, letting yourself block everything that was not Neil and his touch. Soon his hands joined in with the exploration, brushing over your body, slipping inside the opened coat and underneath your blouse. Any resistance you might have had was slowly breaking. Blindly, you found his tie again and started to work on undoing the knot with shaking hands. Once you loosened it and undid the first three buttons, you slipped your hand underneath his shirt. You did not even know what you wanted to do. He was there, yours and in reach. That was enough to cause urgency. But any intent you might have had disappeared when Neil finished his study with a harsh bite over your collarbone.

“Jesus Christ…” you huffed and pulled him closer with a finger around his belt loop.

As his hips met yours, he raised his head and met your gaze shamelessly. Nothing but want and adoration. A sudden commotion on the street helped you remember the surroundings. Sighing, you pieced together a sentence:

“This is rather risky, don’t you think?” if anything, the unconscious way in which you bumped your hips against his again was a contradiction to the statement.

Your head was a mess. On one hand, wanting nothing but Neil, right here and now. On the other, doing anything like this in an alley spoke against the last bits of the reason you tried to preserve.

“Yes, but I quite enjoy the thrill” Neil brushed his hand over your stomach and smiled devilishly.

If your experience was anything to go by, and the way it felt when his crotch brushed over your hip, he too was rather invested. That thought gave you some needed courage to respond.

“You like being caught? Then I’m surprised you were so unsatisfied in Oslo” the cheeky smile and a quick touch of your hand over the front of his pants did it.

Neil swallowed hard and took additional few seconds to find words.

“More than being caught I like you. And everything we do... or could do” experimentally, he traced his finger along the line of your belt.

The goosebumps and rising tension within your core were good enough clues towards your feelings on the matter.

“Like what?” the breathlessness of your voice made you frown.

“Like this” in one swift motion, Neil undid the buckle.

Shit. That was enough to raise concern. You wanted him, urgently, but…

“Neil... do you seriously think fucking in an alley is a good idea?” you did know where that word came from, but it was pretty spot on.

“First of all, we’re not fucking. This isn’t that primal” for some reason the way he pronounced it only made matters worse, as did that smirk “Unless one day you feel like it and-” oh hell.

You placed one hand over his mouth, shutting him up, the other ventured into the pocket of your coat, where you always had the small hunting knife hidden.

“I’m going to stab you. Here they won’t find you for days” aiming for a threatening tone, you raised the hand from his mouth.

But not before he somehow managed to kiss your fingers. His eyes were dark, determined to make you break any internal rules you could have.

“Wow, you really have it bad for me” Neil whispered, getting ever closer, ignoring your threats.

Too lost in the strange conversation you have not even realised when he managed to unzip your jeans. Only once you felt his hand slipping between your thighs, you huffed with frustration. Thinking on reasons against letting him do it was getting increasingly harder.

“Neil” was the only warning you could manage.

All thoughts disappeared when he palmed you through the underwear. Searching for support, you put your hands on his shoulders.

“I just want to check if you’re still interested... still so eager,” the satisfied grin told you that it felt just as bad as you expected.

Like this, with him having direct access to check what was working for you, there was nowhere to hide. Once again, he managed to bring you to such a state with worrying ease. His whole body was pressing against yours, with one hand teasing you through the thin layer of clothing. The other has somehow managed to wrap around your throat. Not strong enough to apply pressure, but at the same time making you face him. And increasing the need you felt.

“You’re a bastard” the insult got muddled by the longing you could not hide from your gaze.

Neil caught it, grinning mischievously. The game was on.

“Well... it takes two and all that” he feigned nonchalance, arching an eyebrow.

You knew full well what he was implying. You could practically feel how drenched with arousal you were. Your underwear was wet to touch, thighs clenching around Neil’s hand. That was his cue to keep your legs parted by inserting his knee between them. Here we go again. You wanted him to do something. Anything. But he was resolved to keep you waiting, thinking about all the different ways to make the situation even more unbearable for you. To make you beg for whatever he was willing to give. Your futile attempt to grind on his thigh got stopped with a stronger grip around your throat and a glimpse of something darker in his eyes. You had enough.

“Why are you doing this?” the hoarse tone of your voice was rather shameful.

“Because I know that you actually enjoy it” Neil shrugged and met your gaze with playful sparks in the blue eyes.

You did not want to know how obvious it must have been for him. Then, he slowly stroked you there, earning a muffled curse.

“I would if you finished it for once” you breathed, letting the frustration take over.

The ache between your legs was nearly driving you over the edge now. It was too much. Neil was too close, and yet not close enough.

“I’m giving you food for thought, so to speak” he murmured.

His hand moved; thumb tentatively hooked around the hem of your panties. An offer to take it a step further any second now.

“That you are” you met his gaze defiantly.

If he was so determined to make you suffer, you might as well give him what he wanted.

“Have you been... dreaming about this?” Neil glanced down at where his fingers were getting closer to where you needed him most.

As though he needed to ask. Of course, you have thought about this scenario before. And many others too. After all, you had to somehow deal with those countless times when his pure existence frustrated you in every meaning of the word.

“Mhmm” you hummed, hoping that will be enough of a response.

The smirk was a reward.

“Good”

Unable to withstand the tension any longer, you kissed him hungrily, taking everything you could have. Soon enough, you were both gasping for breath, yet you did not want to let go. Biting, sucking, and nibbling on every part of his mouth available, he was your drug. With his hand still in a loose chokehold and the other so close to your pulsating core, Neil became the sole reason for your existence. Your knees buckled when he sharply tugged at your panties and touched you without the barrier of the undergarment. You broke the kiss and met his wild gaze, both shocked by the sheer pull between you. Only once he drew a finger between your folds, collecting some of the wetness, the moment got interrupted by Neil’s raspy chuckle.

“It’s quite flattering to see you like this and all because of me” you were not sure if you wanted to slap him or kiss him.

But then that was a usual thing with Neil.

“Just don’t get cocky…” it was hard to put together a string of words.

“Or?” his thumb touched your clit, and you hissed sharply “I already know how I’m making you feel”

To prove a point, he drew another gasp from you by starting a circular stimulation of the sensitive nub. You whimpered, suddenly aware of what a sight you must be for him. Utterly ruined because of kisses, touches, and words. You hated being at anyone’s mercy like this.

“Neil…” a weak plea made him meet your gaze “Please just…” helplessly, you tried to convey everything through the expression in your eyes.

He searched your face before letting go of your throat and instead cupping your cheek tenderly. The juxtaposition was enough to make your head spin.

“What do you want?” it was that question again.

Simple and yet not at all. Awaiting the response, Neil stopped all the movement, increasing your frustration and need. You knew that there was no way you could ever walk away from this as though nothing happened. You might as well have some relief.

“Help me before I lose my fucking mind” you breathed out, expecting the smug smile.

Instead, you got the most sickening grin you have ever seen on his face. But combined with the adoration in his eyes, you knew it was exactly what he wanted to hear from you.

“With pleasure” the words rolled off his tongue, and before you could prepare, he went back to stimulating your clit.

Your head almost slammed onto the wall behind when he picked up the pace. Even though you both knew that you hardly needed any additional preparation, Neil took his time, never taking his gaze off you. At the edges of your consciousness, you could feel the rising shame that was bound to consume you later. After all, this was the second time that you have asked him to help you like this. Surely, he would soon get tired of having to deal with your issues and never getting anything in return. But before you could follow that train of thought, Neil inserted a finger, and an unwanted cry rose in your throat.

“Jesus…” to stop yourself from being too vocal, you bit down harshly on your lip, bursting the barely sealed cut.

But Neil tilted your chin, meeting your gaze again.

“No need for that” he caught your lips in a short kiss “Don’t hold back”

Readjusting your hold on one of his shoulders, with the other hand you tugged on the tie you have messed up earlier. He took that as a cue to insert another digit. Too much.

“Christ, Neil” the breathless tone was a revelation even to you “You’re…” unable to finish the sentence, you moaned quietly.

Neil had no issues finding the perfect spot again, making you squirm and roll your hips, grinding down on that conveniently placed thigh. He thought of everything, it seemed. You did wonder how many times before he brought people to their downfall with those hands alone. But then, you would be lying if you would not admit that he had rather nice hands. And that you have not thought about this before Oslo.

“Glad it’s working, love” he commented upon a louder gasp from you.

For some reason, the nickname acted like a trigger. Feeling a surge of frustration, you bucked your hips against his, needing more.

“Don’t call me that” you spit the words out, relishing in the look of surprise in his eyes.

But he only needed a moment to shake it off before picking up the pace and curling his fingers inside you. Now it was close.

“What then?” Neil searched your eyes intently as though he was doing anything else but taking you apart with his two fingers and a thumb.

In response, you could only shudder, feeling your muscles tense in the anticipation of the near end.

“My love?” the proposition broke through the haze overwhelming your mind.

My god. Only with him, those two simple words could cause such an onslaught of feelings. There was something so achingly tender in his gaze that no matter the situation, your heart was set ablaze. He looked as though he was relieved to finally use those words. Suddenly, it was not just Neil lending you a helping hand in an hour of need. It was an act of love, further cementing your status as lovers. You were not sure whether it was that realization or what Neil has been doing to you that made the world explode before your eyes. Perhaps it was both. You only managed to breathe out a warning in the form of his name, but he understood.

“Look at me. I want to see what I did to you” he angled your chin again so you were forced to meet his gaze “So that I can remember this later” the husky whisper was the ultimate push over the edge.

Oh christ. You gripped his shoulder tightly and undid the tie, making it fall to the ground. Neil did not even notice, staring at you mesmerized. With the last bits of sanity, you took hold of his neck, bringing him close. The wave of pleasure made you tense up like a bowstring before you came with a shudder and a cry.

“Neil…” you got struck by the hope you saw in his eyes.

This time nothing was stopping you. No lips on yours to take over the words that were slowly choking you. The high he gave you took away all the inhibitions and worries. Neil was there, with you, a solid presence beneath your fingertips and an anchor to keep you from getting lost in your head. And that was enough.

“I love you” the three words were easy to utter for something you struggled to keep inside that long.

In response, Neil smiled and pressed his forehead against yours tenderly. The darkness in his eyes made way for pure happiness and conviction. Maybe this time it wasn’t a mistake.

“I know” he whispered and covered your lips in a sweet kiss.

Now that you were not holding back anything kissing Neil felt like absolution. You were never particularly religious, but he could be your eternal salvation, for the body and the soul. The only person you ever needed that much.

Breaking the kiss with a sigh, Neil took a step back and retracted the hand that was still stroking your navel. You watched with a slight surprise as he glanced at a watch.

“Are you in a rush?” with cheeks burning, you took out a tissue and passed it to him.

He took it with a curt nod and cleaned his hand. As you observed him like that, with messed up hair, unbuttoned collar, and slightly flushed cheeks, the reality of the situation started dawning on you. Not only have you allowed Neil to finger you in a dirty alley, but also you have confessed your feelings in the heat of the moment. And yet, he was still there…

“Unfortunately, yes, the meeting is in ten, and I still have to get there” Neil picked up the tie from the ground and brushed off the dirt “Trust me, I’d love to continue with this…” carelessly he tied the knot and took a step closer again “But we should leave something for the future too” with playful sparks in his eyes he brushed the hair away from your eyes.

Oh my god.

“Can’t you for once… not do this” sighing heavily, you focused on readjusting the underwear and zipping up your pants.

Everything was better than looking into those blue eyes.

“Where would be the fun in that” Neil buckled your belt, just as quickly as he undid it previously “I must admit that after this, I’m curious to see how you’ll react once I do it properly one day… with my mouth and then…” he trailed off, fingers brushing over your stomach once again.

“Neil… don’t” using your own power, you brushed your hips over his “Or you won’t make it to that meeting” you glanced at his crotch knowingly.

“As tempting as that is… I’d rather not disappoint TP” with a final caress of your side, he took a step back again “Don’t worry about me though. I’ll deal with this later” he adjusted the trousers slightly “I’m used to it” the hint of a smile was enough to help you understand.

You gaped. It was hard to think straight again. Surely…not? Right?

“You- what? Because of me?” you stuttered, bewildered and perplexed.

“Yes, absolutely” Neil shrugged and attempted to smooth his hair “Pretty often, but then you’re quite the inspiration, my love” he winked, enjoying your sudden paralysis.

Now that sort of image was bound to keep you up at night. For some reason, you never thought that he would think about you like that, always assuming there were better fantasies to use in need. But maybe… maybe he had it just as bad as you did.

“I have to run” Neil kissed you on the cheek, bringing your mind back to the present moment.

“Does this… change anything?” you met his gaze, hoping he will catch on to the meaning.

“No, not at all” the soft smile contrasted the recent conversation tone “I’ll text you later”

“You better” you mirrored his smile, watching him disappear in the crowd.

Wow… Now that was an interesting walk. Sighing, you rested your head against the brick wall for a few minutes longer, trying to level your breathing.

*** You were not given much break from Neil that day. To clear your head, you went for a walk around the city centre, visiting curious shops, and spending time in a cosy café. Just anything that did not have to do with the blonde bastard was good enough to shut up your rebelling brain. After all, now he knew everything, and that was a dangerous situation. You did your best to ignore your phone for most of the day however when it buzzed on your way back to the apartment it was hard to resist checking. He did text just as promised:

“Did you miss me?” and then “I’ll have some news for you all later”

Maybe things, in fact, have not changed…

“Maybe a little” smiling, you keyed in the code to the door.

Inside, you quickly settled on the sofa with some indulgent crisps, about to tune into the team’s favourite Estonian soap ‘Õnne 13’, which you all watched every evening. It was terribly boring (especially when one did not understand a single word), and yet after a few days, you wanted nothing but to know what Alma will have for dinner that night. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

The latest dose of drama from the shithole called Morna got interrupted by your phone ringing. Neil, of course. Ignoring the offended stares from the other eight people in the room, you picked up the phone:

“Hey”

“Evening, my love” you could hear how happy he was to use those words.

Your heart summersaulted, making you exhale.

“I like the sound of that” grinning you walked out into the corridor to hide from the curious looks.

“Me too. Is everyone there with you?” jumping straight into the business was probably good for you both.

“Yeah. You’ve interrupted our shitty soap” at your adjective, a choir of outraged voices rose in the living room.

“My bad. Can you put me on the speaker? I could give you a run over the plan”

“Of course,” you motioned for everyone to gather around the table and put your phone in the middle “You’re on”

“Okay, so basically TP wants to take over the plutonium piece that is being transported through Tallinn in three days on its way to a nuclear depot in Italy. The point is not to let it get into Sator’s hands who thinks we’re cooperating with him”

“How will it be transported?” Ives propped his chin on his hand, listening intently.

“Reinforced truck with police escort front and back. Tracked via GPS” leaning back in the chair, you listened to Neil’s voice “Any unplanned stop or different turn and in come the reinforcements”

“What’s his plan then?”

“I believe he wants to take it out on the move with the use of a fire truck. Among others”

The hint of a smile in that sentence made you comment:

“So, you’re not the only crazy one around” earning a few amused grins from the people around, you briefly felt victorious.

Briefly.

“Something tells me you’re into that. Judging by what you let me do to you in that alley”

Fuck. A sharp gasp you let out made everyone turn to look at you. Gripping the edge of the table, you wanted nothing but to disappear. Or die. All the blood drained from your face as you stammered.

“Neil- you-” there was not enough air in the room “I-”

Wheeler shot you a worried look after you let out a small choking sound and spoke:

“Anyway… why are we needed?” the professional tone made everyone turn their attention back to the mission.

You had to thank her later for saving your dignity. And life.

“To be on hand if things get dirty. I’ll send you the brief now it lists the details of his plan” Neil resumed the topic as though nothing happened “Tomorrow, I’ll call to let you know what exactly I need. That’s it for tonight, enjoy your evening”

Before anyone could make a move, you snatched your phone from the table and muttered:

“You’re dead”

You ended the call and stormed off to your room, slamming the doors. You could not believe his audacity to say something like that with everyone on the receiving end. The bastard ought to pay for that. Unable to calm down, with hands shaking violently and your head in absolute disarray, you grabbed the coat and made beeline for the exit out of the flat. It was pretty late for a solitary walk, but you hardly had anything to lose. Before you could make a swift exit, Ives’ stopped you with a hand on the arm. You met his gaze with impatience:

“So… how was the alley?” while he kept his face straight, the amused tone was there.

Bloody men.

“Fuck off” you shook off his hand and opened the door “I’m going out, and hopefully I’ll get killed. Don’t wait up”

Before you slammed the door in his face, you heard the parting words:

“Have fun”

The cold Estonian breeze was a welcomed sensation for your tired and thoroughly pissed off mind. You put up the hood of your coat and wandered off into the night.

*** Unfortunately, no one was willing to kill you. Around 1 am, you grudgingly made your way back to the apartment, relieved when no one was around to corner you. Once you were safe in your locked bedroom, you took out the phone for the first time in three hours. Unsurprisingly there were two missed calls and three texts from Neil, plus one message from Wheeler. She was checking whether you were still alive, which was a rather touching gesture, and so you replied to her first. Then, sighing heavily, you went through the texts from Neil:

“I’m sorry” then “But I wasn’t entirely wrong, was I?” and finally, “Are you alright?”

That son of a bitch…

“You’re so going to pay for this” you typed back and lied down on the bed. He was quick to reply, which meant he stayed up. Potentially waiting for you to reach out. Talking about confusing signals…

“I was hoping you’d say that” you groaned.

“After that disaster of a meeting, I went for a walk. Found a perfect spot for murder in cold-blood. You won’t even know what hit you”

Maybe that will do the job.

“You did. Only a lot earlier than you think”

It didn’t. Sighing, you cursed your inability to leave him on read.

“I’ve had enough of you today, g’night”

“I seriously doubt that, but good night, darling” and then “I hope your dreams will be as good as our little moment”

That surge of frustration was only made worse when you found a stray short blonde hair on your blouse while changing for bed. The idiot not only had your heart, but everything else too, it seemed.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

144 notes · View notes

ellewritesathing · 4 years

Text

Faking It - IV

Summary: You’d done plenty of dumb things in your life, but the dumbest had to be picking Greendale’s latest bad-boy to pretend to be your boyfriend.

Masterlist Prev. | Part 4

Word-count: 3.4k+

A/N: this gif has nothing to do with this part but i thought it was cute and couldn’t find a kitchen gif that fit. hope you enjoy the drama lmao 💕

Of all the ways you saw taking Caliban’s hand the day you met, you hadn’t anticipated the very obvious outcome: that you’d develop feelings for him. Actual, real, not fake feelings. But it’s not like it was your fault - no, you blamed the blonde asshole himself. They just didn’t make guys like him in Greendale, so he completely blindsided you by being … well, himself.

He was intimidating enough that other guys left you alone, and - even though plenty of people found him as charming as you did - he made it very clear that he had no interest in any of them. He was infuriatingly good at everything he did and he looked good while doing it. He laughed at all your shitty jokes and actually listened to you when you spoke. How the hell were you supposed to not be attracted to someone who would sit with you while you worked on your art projects and quote poetry in an offhand effort to distract you?

Who the hell could even quote poetry in real life?

Not you. Not anyone that you’d ever met.

Caliban was just different in all the ways that made your heart race.

The fact that your friends liked him didn’t hurt either. Harvey still rolled his eyes whenever Caliban showed up or made the others laugh, but his anger must have subsided at least a little because you’d caught them joking around between practices. Theo loved Caliban; the two of them had inside jokes, knew each other’s lunch orders, and partnered up for chemistry. Roz would read a book and annotate it before handing it off to Caliban to read, and she liked that Caliban made you smile. Sabrina liked having someone to do dumb and borderline illegal stuff with. They liked him, and now you liked them. The fuckers.

“Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” Sabrina asked, nudging you with her elbow. “You’ve been staring at the baseball field for like five minutes.”

“Of course I’m listening,” you lied. You sat up straighter and tugged your clothing back into place. “Quite frankly, I’m insulted you’d think that I wasn’t paying attention to The Great Kinkle Family Reunion.”

Sabrina tilted her head and smiled politely, that’s how you knew trouble was coming. “Then tell me what you should do when Uncle Tristan starts talking about horses,” she said.

“Uh …”

“Exactly.” Sabrina laughed and looked down at the field where Harvey, Theo, Caliban, and the rest of the team were running laps. “I’ve been to every family get together since I met Harvey, and they all end horribly. Caliban’s mom was really sweet to host one, but she’s in way over her head. Have you met her, by the way?”

“No,” you said. You couldn’t tell if that was weird or not. Were fake girlfriends supposed to meet their partner’s mothers? “But I’m kinda surprised she’s doing this given everything I’ve heard about her and the Kinkles. They weren’t exactly the most supportive of her.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why Harvey’s such a sweetheart when the rest of the family is … It was probably Tommy, now that I think about it,” Sabrina said. She shook her head and turned to look at you before taking your hands in hers. “I just wanted to check-in and make sure you’re ready for this.”

“Brina, I can handle this.” You squeezed her hands reassuringly. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve got a pretty mean right hook. Ask Colin Anderson. If there’s a fight, I’ll be golden.”

Sabrina laughed and let go of your hands. “I’m trying to prevent that fight, but good to know.”

You laughed and bumped her with your arm. “Looks like practice is letting out. You wanna head down?”

“Nah.” Sabrina put on her brightest smile and waved down to a very tired-looking Harvey. “Let them de-stink first.”

---

After two weeks of prep and cover stories, the day of the Great Reunion was here. You’d woken up disgustingly early in order to get yourself together and drive over to Caliban’s to help them set everything up.

You weren’t sure what you expected their house to look like, but clashed with the black BMW parked in the garage. It was a sweet, two-story house with a wraparound porch and balloons in the front yard. The house was painted a soft sunshine shade of yellow and had rocking chairs, hanging plants, and rose beds in the front. It was the picture-perfect house for anyone other than Caliban, but it still fit.

Different.

Gathering up your nerve and the rest of your belongings, you made your way to the door and pressed the doorbell. The tiny pothos plant felt as awkward as you did while it sat in your hands and waited for someone to open the door.

Thank God it was Caliban and not his mom.

He smiled amusedly at your plant before looking up at you. “Is that for me?”

“I know it’s a lame gift but I didn’t know if your mom was allergic to cut flowers and I’m not old enough to buy her wine,” you said in a rush. You frowned slightly and tilted your head. “Well, not legally at least.”

Caliban laughed and reached out to take one of your hands and lead you inside. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

You didn’t know what else to say as Caliban led you to the kitchen. The house was as much of a surprise inside as it was outside, and it smelled like freshly baked bread. It was colorful and covered in old photos. He seemed very at home here and lighter than you’d ever seen him elsewhere. No, not lighter. Happier.

“Wait.” You stopped dead and let go of Caliban to reach out for a photo of the cutest little boy with missing front teeth and a mess of blonde curls around his dirty face. “Is this you?” You couldn’t help the laugh that came out when Caliban looked pained at your discovery. “Aw, Abercrombie, you were so cute! What’s on your face?”

Caliban sighed and took the photo out of your hand, looking embarrassed for probably the first time in his life. “I was seven years old and I liked eating chocolate. Is that a problem?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” a woman said as she rounded a corner and laughed. She had the most beautiful long, brown hair and kind eyes. “You didn’t just like chocolate. If you came anywhere near it, you used to eat yourself into a sugar coma. I couldn’t bake anything around you without you eating the batter before it even got into the oven.”

She laughed and ruffled Caliban’s hair before smiling at you. You didn’t know anyone could ruffle his hair without losing a hand.

“You must be the lovely new girlfriend I’ve heard so much about,” she said. “I’m Isobel. Is that for me?”

Isobel pointed at your little pot plant and jolted you back to life. “Uh, yeah,” you said and held the plant out to her. Her hands were warm as she took the plant from you. “I wasn’t too sure what to bring but I didn’t want to come empty-handed.”

“Oh, not at all. This little guy is perfect!” Isobel lifted up the plant to look at it. “I’m going to give him some water and put him in the front. Do you guys want to get settled in the kitchen so long?”

“Of course,” Caliban said with a gentle smile. His mom gave him another playful bump and disappeared into some other part of the house while Caliban held a hand out to you. “Shall we?”

“Who are you?” you teased with wide eyes as you took his hand in yours.

You followed him into the kitchen and took a seat at the breakfast bar. They were here for maybe a month and their house already felt like more of a home than yours ever did. How they afforded it all, you had no idea, but Caliban never spoke about his birth dad and you didn’t want to push. All you knew was he gave Caliban his blonde hair and bone structure, nothing more and nothing less.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by the sight of Caliban in a sunflower printed apron. Clearly, your efforts to contain your amusement weren’t nearly as stellar as you thought they were because Caliban raised an eyebrow at you over all the baking supplies on the counter.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I didn’t peg you for an apron guy is all,” you said with a small shrug, doing your best to sound nonchalant and not totally, completely chalant.

“I don’t like getting my clothes dirty,” Caliban said defensively. “Without an apron, anything can stain your shirt.”

“I think I’ll take the risk,” you said as you tapped the counter. “I trust myself and don’t think anyone’s going to splatter batter on me.”

“Batter, maybe not …” Caliban tilted his head to the side. “But flour?”

“Flour?”

Before you had the chance to ask what he meant, Caliban threw a handful of flour at you. He laughed at how shocked you were and you took that opportunity to reach across the counter and throw some flour at him. Soon enough the two of you were running around the kitchen, covered in flour, and laughing until your sides hurt.

Caliban wrapped his arms around you and scooped you up, ignoring your pleading and cries that were cut short by laughter. You were still mid-air with Caliban’s face close to your own when Isobel came back.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Isobel put her hands out to get your attention. “We have guests coming in an hour and the two of you are making a mess in my kitchen.”

Caliban set you down, but the two of you were still tangled up and filthy. You didn’t know what to say to the woman you’d met fifteen minutes ago and whose kitchen you’d subsequently ruined.

Isobel laughed and shook her head. “It’s my own fault for leaving this one unsupervised,” she teased, pointing a finger at Caliban as she made her way around to start cleaning up. “Go clean yourselves up. Come back when you don’t like friendly ghosts.”

Luckily for you, flour was relatively easy to get out because you weren’t wearing dark colors for once. It took a while to get it out of your hair and make it look presentable, but it was hard to be too mad at the mess when it was such a fun time making it.

When you got back downstairs, you could hear people laughing and talking in the kitchen. It was still too early for guests but it was clear that it wasn’t just Caliban and his mom.

You were right. You rounded the corner to find Caliban freshly-changed, his mom kneading some dough, and a very pretty redhead with big doe-eyes all laughing at some inside joke. It made you feel painfully other.

“Oh, Luce,” Isobel said when she noticed you come in, waving you over. “You have to meet Caliban’s girlfriend. She’s a gem.”

Luce ... As in Lucy? Lucy from California? Harvey’s first crush? Lucy.

This was going to end badly.

Lucy tilted her head as she turned to look at you. You could see the gears turning in her head as she looked you over. “Girlfriend?” she asked with a friendly (but fake) smile.

“The one and only,” you said with an over-confident smile as you walked over and interlaced your hand with Caliban’s. You wrapped your other hand around his arm, just like the first day you met. You introduced yourself with a friendly yet fake smile of your own.

“You guys moved up here a few months ago and Caliban’s completely forgotten about me,” Lucy teased to Isobel. She moved some hair out of her face and looked over at you again. “He used to tell me everything. We were like this.” She crossed her index and middle finger over each other with a smile.

You’d have liked to show her one of your fingers.

But you didn’t. All you did was smile and make some polite conversation while not letting go of Caliban. You weren’t sure why you were being so defensive. It’s not like you and Caliban were actually dating, but you didn’t like Lucy. Not only did she break Harvey’s heart and cause all the damage you’d spent the better part of two months fixing, but she also just rubbed you the wrong way.

“Okay, not to ruin all the fun,” Isobel said after a while. “But guests should be coming soon. Why don’t you kids make sure everything is set up in the back and keep an ear out for any early birds?”

“Sure thing,” Lucy said, hopping off her seat and leading the way to the backyard.

You started following when Caliban caught your arm and said something to his mom about getting more supplies from the garage. He didn’t say anything else as he led the way and neither did you, but that was mostly just because you were being petty.

Caliban led you to the middle of the garage and tugged on the old light to illuminate the dusty room around you. He lifted your intertwined hands and folded them over each other as he thought about what he was going to say.

You couldn’t wait that long.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Lucy? And I want the truth this time.”

Caliban laughed and shook his head as he looked up at the old light above you. He took a breath before saying, “Lucinda’s my best friend, pretty much my only friend before yours so kindly took me in. If I’d known she’d be here today, I would have said something.”

“Wait, you were best friends with the girl who broke up your family?” you asked.

“She apologized,” Caliban said. “And, besides, you’re friends with Harvey.”

“Harvey’s never made out with me,” you said, untangling your hand from his so that you could cross your arms over your chest.

Caliban narrowed his eyes slightly as he took in your newly defensive stance, and then he laughed without saying anything else. He looked amused when he met your scowling gaze again. “I can’t believe you’re jealous,” he said. “Don’t misunderstand me, it’s incredibly attractive but-”

“I am not jealous,” you said. “I couldn’t care less.”

“I’m sure,” Caliban said with a sarcastic smile. He rolled his eyes as he stepped closer and cupped your face before leaning down to be millimeters away from your face. “Forget about her, alright? I assure you, you’re the only fake girlfriend for me.”

Before you had the chance to say something witty in return, the garage door flew open and the devil herself stood in the opening.

“There you are!” Lucy said. “Cal, I need help with these streamers. I’m way too short to get them where your mom wants them.”

“I’ll be right out,” Caliban said without taking his eyes off yours. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before taking a step back and leaving you in the dusty and dim garage.

You shot a warning text to Harvey about Lucy before you went out to help the others. Though he never answered, he must have got it because he was surprisingly okay when he and Sabrina got there. You and Sabrina shared a look when Lucy got a bit handsy with her hello, but neither of you said anything.

That’s how most of the get together went; you and Sabrina sharing secret, sarcastic looks and staying out of trouble. Well, mostly. You still didn’t know what to say when Uncle Tristan started talking about horses, but Caliban came to your rescue and the rest was smooth sailing.

Until an hour went by when you couldn’t find Caliban anywhere. You asked around but no one had seen him, but his mom pointed you in the direction of his room. Isobel held onto your arm before you could leave.

“Um, I’m sorry if this seems a bit strange but I …” Isobel smiled and looked down at her hand on your arm before letting go, clearly trying to respect whatever boundaries you may have had. “Caliban’s been a lot happier since we moved here and I think that has to do with you. I just wanted to say thank you.”

“Oh, uh- It’s nothing. I’m just a girl and I’m sure Caliban’s brought a few of us around by now with cheekbones like that,” you said with a smile.

“No, Caliban’s never brought anyone home before,” Isobel said, looking like she was trying to remember anything to the contrary. “Sorry, hun, I’ve gotta go. Jan’s calling me over. Good luck with the search!”

“Thanks,” you said quietly.

Isobel disappeared into the sea of Kinkles and you made your way to Caliban’s room. You took your time going up the stairs, looking at all the photos on the wall as you did. It was nice to see that Caliban was just as angry and angsty now as he was at 14 years old.

It was strangely quiet upstairs compared to the rest of the house and the party in the backyard. Quite enough that you could hear someone giggling upstairs, someone decidedly not Caliban.

Roz would have told you to face it head-on and not to sneak around like a creep. Thankfully, Roz wasn’t there to say anything.

You tiptoed as casually as you could to Caliban’s room. The room felt more like the Caliban you knew than the rest of the house did: big windows without any blinds, a tornado of books and sketches on every surface available, and a very pretty redhead making out with him.

“She kissed you, huh?” you asked, echoing the story of when they were younger before turning on your heel and slamming the door behind you. Your heart ached annoyingly when Caliban called out for you as he followed behind you, but your brain told it to suck it up until you were out of the house.

By sheer force of will, you made it back downstairs without turning around, but then Caliban managed to get a hold of your hand and spin you around to face him.

“Would you please let me explain?” Caliban asked.

“No,” you said, pulling your hand away from him. “Look, it’s not like you have anything to explain anyway, okay?” He reached out for you again and you took a step back so you wouldn’t be confused by his touch. “You and me? We were a fake relationship. Maybe this is the universe saying it’s time it came to a real end.”

You knew what he’d say if you weren’t arguing. He’d ask you, with that annoying smile of his, when you started letting the universe tell you what to do. Or he’d make some comment about the universe being a bastard. But all he did now was set his jaw and look down at his hand.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying this is it,” you said. “Goodbye, Caliban.”

You weren’t sure why you expected him to say something else, to fight for your fake relationship, but all that expectation just led to disappointment. Caliban flexed his hand but didn’t say anything else as you pushed past him to get your stuff from the kitchen so you could rush to your car to cry.

Harvey was tapping on your window just before you started the car. Curse your five-minute breakdown for being long enough for him to notice you were gone.

“What?” you asked as you rolled down the window.

“Are you okay?” Harvey asked. “You ran out of there so fast-”

“You were right, okay?” You put your car in reverse before looking back up at him. “Caliban’s not a good guy and you warned me. Will you just let me go so I can cry somewhere that’s not here?”

“Hey, you know that’s not what I meant,” Harvey said softly, reaching through the window for you. “Let me come with-”

“No. Go have fun with your family. I need to get out of here.”

“But-”

“Harvey, move or I will drive over your foot.”

You didn’t think he was going to do it, but Harvey took a very reluctant step back and put his hands up in surrender. He wasn’t going to fight for you either, not that you’d given him much of a chance. Harvey was stood there, watching you drive away until he disappeared in your rearview mirror.

Music blared in an attempt to drown out your thoughts, but there was one you couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard you tried. Sabrina was right - every Kinkle family get together ended horribly.

Tagged: @miss--moose @marrypuffsstuff @harryscarolinaa @igorsbby @foji2000 @mschfavngz @artaxerxesthegreat @thxmagic @strawberriesandknives @xealia @hotmessindisguise @reheated-coffee @shelby-x @perseny-blog @millie-753 @luneerius @shizzybarnaclee @lettherebelovex @throughparisallthroughrome @ietss @thebookwormlife @mechanicalanimalz @mariamermaid @nqbmf @drrramaaaqweeen

#faking it #caliban #caliban imagine #caliban x reader #caos #chilling adventures of sabrina

145 notes · View notes

notasdriedapricots · 3 years

Text

The Tender Trap: The Origin Story

This is just pretty much a disclaimer for the disaster that’s coming.

I TALK A LOT OMG HOW DID YOU KNOW? Here's a TL;DR: -The Tender Trap is canon as shit, because I never intended to write a fic, and much less to publish it, but one thing lead to the other and I ended up kinda liking it. I love them so much. There's quite a lot added to it, but there's still a fair bit of the original thing in there, because again, that was the original goal. -However, if you think there's too much still there, let me know! I think I've modified it enough, but that's only my opinion. -If you catch technical mistakes, grammatical errors, weird vocabulary... let me know! English is my second language. -There's an after-villa sequel in the oven that has more angst (the game doesn't leave much space for that) and honestly is more fun. Or at least I've been having so much fun with it. I have to finish it first, though. I might hate it by the end, but we'll see. -Funny story: It was untitled for months. The day I randomly found a title while listening to Ella Fitzgerald, I kinda decided to 'fuck it, just upload it somewhere'. And so here we are. That was literally yesterday. -The first real chapter will likely be posted on AO3 on Thursday/Friday, depending on how much longer I keep messing with it :D

800 words of me rambling under the cut. How annoying is that.

I transcribed the whole goddamned game. In past tense instead of present, mind you. As one of the most popular memes in my country preaches: Why? There is no 'why'?

Well, there is. Just for clarification, that transcription is not what I will be posting. I'm not that dumb. No, I wanted to add nuances to the story without altering it, so I used what the game gives us as the skeleton. I wanted to see if I could make nonsense dialogue and the whole amnesia deal make sense by turning it into inside jokes, sarcasm, and anxiety. (Prosody is a wonderful thing). I tried my best to not contradict what has been explicitly said, regardless of how. much. I. wanted. to. change. it. That was the challenge, to reframe it so it made sense. Did it interfere with the 'creative process'? Nah, it was pretty fun, and I work well with a structure in place. The post-villa thing is way freer and oh god it's so over the place I have to put some order to that I don't even know where it's going but I found out I love writing domestic shit and I LoVe Lucas' mother.

This idea lead up to extending some scenes, adding others I felt were missing, composing internal monologues... And I ended up writing fiction again after like ten years. Which is not a "take it easy on me" card, by the way. Be ruthless, I can take it, mainly because I did this just for fun. I know I'm rusty, what's new? I know it mainly shows in the first chapters because the game forces a pace that's too fast and too slow at the same damn time and there's only so much my brain can do. I might rewrite them at some point, who knows. Also English is not my first language, so I can only hope there's something that sounds hilarious in there somewhere that you can point out so we can laugh about it. Let me know! I've loved this language since I was three, I want to use it properly. Also punctuation is sometimes different (commas and the necessity of explicit pronouns in English are a pain in the ass compared to Spanish) so you're welcome to correct that as well if you catch a mistake. So I don't intend to put myself at the same level as some of the fantastic writers in this fandom; you keep writing art, I'm just here for shits and giggles, and because this was insanely fun for me.

But going back. I started getting sidetracked, as I tend to do when I write, as you can see, so I had to get the scissors and cut those parts that weren't adding much to the main plot (telling Gary to apologize to Marisol is very nice but this chapter is already over 8000 words long, SIR) to make room for other parts that needed more depth, so amongst other things we have the emotional breakdown and apology we deserve after CA (or at least one that makes me feel bad, I don't know) and a lot of chats so these two actually get to, you know, know each other? Oh, and smut, ejem. Yeah. That.

In between I wrote half the after-villa sequel, canons for Liz, headcanons for Lucas, (head)canons for them together, pages and pages of questions and answers from both of them, fashion headcanons, families and exes, best friends; I put together pinterest folders with pictures of so (so) many people, clothes, apartments; I even wrote a musical episode where Liz has a karaoke battle with her ex in a jazz joint that's one of my favourite things because the songs are just *chef's kiss* I mean, Liz singing 'Cry me a river' is so cathartic... Anyway I started adding shit, mostly thoughts, to the game's dialogue, and it ended up in this abomination that never intended to be anything but fun. I'm not particularly proud of the first couple chapters because the cut/don't cut thing looking at the wordcount, trying to decide if I butchered the original dialogue, reduced it to a general paragraph, or pretend the scene never happened, all while having a chapter that was too short to split into two (or that would have one of them containing too little new stuff) but so long to be just one... was painful. I'm still dealing with that as I tweak the next chapters, but as soon as I have a somewhat definitive word/chapter count, I'll let you know. Just know that it's long, so do with that what you will.

SO, welcome. Take a seat, help yourself to a drink, and stay for as long as you like. When I got into this I went to the ball, so now I'm just dancing.

#TTT #dont say i didnt warn you #lets gooo

4 notes · View notes

cutegirlmayra · 4 years

Text

When your tired after a 16hr shift yesterday so you rant about Sonic and explain why aggressive writing vs. neutral writing helps with sharing ideas

Me and my online Sonic friend talking about Belle. (I’m skipping some dialogue throughout the chat, this was lazily put together lol)

WARNING: It’s long, and it’s a rant. So please note that I’m blatantly aware of how wrong my aggressive, sleep-deprived rant was and that I’m stating “DON’T PRESENT YOUR IDEAS LIKE THIS!” because this is not a healthy nor effective way of sharing ideas.

ALSO, ALL THE MENTIONS OF WHAT I BELIEVE MY FRIEND IS FEELING OR THINKING DURING MY RANT ARE ENTIRELY MY OPINON. If she tells me to delete something or change it I will without hesitation but I find it funny, as I look back, to insert what I think might be going on in her mind XD She might have been oblivious to me but I’ll get her thoughts and change anything if necessary.

It’s also how most trolls and antis and even some ‘not experienced writers’ write their ideas out, and it can be easily avoided by using Neutral Writing Methods. So this is a ‘don’t do this, but try this’ post. Enjoy my badly written, sleepy aggressive rant~<3 (Also, my friend gave me permission to share this lol)

Me: She could be for entertaining little kids. But we already have too many OCs, and they're not 'dying off' any time soon so...I smell a mini-series backup plan...and I don't like what that means for Sonic. And it is cute, sorry, my brain is off the hook right now, I'll keep things to myself cause you may not like what I'm predicting and I'm getting sad thinking about it ;-; so, want to be wrong.

(Friend mentioned “Tinker Bell” spin on name.)

That's precious, but can I get a link to the reference sheet plz? Reference sheets can tell a lot about a chara's functionality if you compare it to the 'needs' of the casts. it can help predict their role. I think she's meant to help but also entertain the kids, maybe planted with a secret. Her goal could be to come back to Mr. Tinker but Eggman abuses that and tricks her into a new robot. I got a weird theory about her but I'll just say that she's probably gonna go a bit dark. But be cute and make the audience go, "Aww, poor thing! She's a cinnamon roll" at first, wonder if they'll equip her with 'happy backstory, tragic ending' kinda thing to switch the usual 'tragic backstory happy ending' but I feel this is a tragic character meant to pull emotion out.

(Friend understands my concerns but mentions there hasn’t been a ‘Bad’ Oc for the comic)

No one sets out to create a 'bad character' especially professional writers like these guys. But what makes a character 'bad' is if you ruin or oversaturate their purposes. If she's a main character that over-shines others with too much story then the audience feels 'betrayed' because they want that screen time for the main casts to express themselves and shine through. That's just an example. When working with IPs like Sonic casts, you HAVE to remember the fanbase is expecting things Do you like my OCs? be honest lol Not from my prompts. There's a specific way to handle a OC that helps the main cast shine and reveals their characters more. AU Ocs help Canon Characters in many ways.

(Friend admits they have not seen my OCs in some of my fanfictions, they’ve only really read my prompts.)

Oh, well, some of my fanfictions have OCs, not Lavinya, she's just a mascot. My Sonic OC that retried XD Sorry, I'm misspelling a lot but I hope you don't mind, my spellcheck sucks and I've given up on it lol Oh, so you don't know Harmony, Ol'Wizzy, and Data?Or the Metal Series? Well, there are specific Ocs that my readers like and they express/compliment the canon characters to where even though they're a main character, they don't intervene with the Main Cast's goals. They actually help. Then everything I'm gonna say won't have much merit so I'll just focus on waiting to see if my predictions for Sonic IDW will come true, but I really hope they don't do what it looks like they strategically might be pulling... I hate SEGA marketing-

(The beginning of my aggressive rant, please note that I’m not thinking about my image and am writing tired and lazy. This is an example of how NOT to express your opinions in negative ways. It doesn’t influence good at all.)

Their ploys are outdated and frankly, do not work for their IPs market. They target the wrong age group, they have no idea how to organize themselves, and they don't have a leading 'elder' so to speak (just a professional among them) to make good calls. So you have young adults (not super professionals, this might be their first real company job) trying to target internet culture and failing their IPs. They're doing outdated Nintendo tactics that only worked for NINTENDO! Also some other companies that have DIED so why are you copying their marketing strats!? stop! lol

Friend: Did you study marketing because this entire convo kinda flew over my head in terms of understanding (This should have indicated to me that my words were coming off too factual and had too many ‘jargons’ going on. I was losing my ‘reader’ through my rant, but my tired brain would not cease!)

Sonic's trying to morph into something he's not and they're following outdated college course books and it's not gonna help... they're leading Sonic further down and the creators in japan have no power cause all the power is in the stock holders who are stupid money-hungry americans who have lost faith in American SEGA leading SEGA of Japan to move on to other things

Friend: mostly just got you don’t like the marketing (Huge red flag! This means my friend is starting to tune my info out, it’s because I’m presenting my ideas in a slightly aggressive writing style. There are trigger words here that lead an reader to start doubting you. This is why, in most of my answer posts, I make sure to write Neutral writing methods, but I’ll mention that more after my rant lol XP)

It's just bad. Lol I have a Frankenstein degree, (Now I’m justifying myself, which was caused by my aggressive approach. If I simply stated this in a more ‘neutral writing method’ then I wouldn’t have to worry about creditability claims because I’m not trying to sell my idea as the high authority on it.) which means I have knowledge on many different fields. I never took a fully -dedicated- 'marketing class' I took a lot of different communication classes that went to my overall major. One was directly about how you present, sell, and look at marketing tactics. So I have my fingers in many different fields, my major was "Creative Writing for Fiction and Film with an Emphasis in Video Production and a Cluster in Theatre Arts." So I can be on camera, off camera, post and pre production, creative table and actual filming. Does that make sense? (I’m not fully awake to realize what I’m writing, but it’s clear at this point I’m starting to wake up and realize I’m ranting and tossing my ideals of how to present ideas out the window, but let’s watch my follies and learn from them, shall we?) I have theories on what SEGA is going to do, and I have my worries because it's all outdated. It worked for older companies but those companies also targeted a varying audience, which SEGA refuses to see themselves as for a 'teenage audience' which is exactly why they boomed in the 90s. Their target audience is now 20s.

Friend: There are Kids who also like Sonic, even if they don’t play the games though. (Due to my aggressive tactics from not thinking clearly about, not just the what, but the HOW I’m writing, it has turned my friend into a ‘contrasting neutrality’ which is amazing by the way that she did this! She noticed my writing was turning aggressively ranting, and being my friend, didn’t want to be rude about what she was noticing. -I’m guessing lol- so instead, she took the commentary approach, which is to state the good as well. This is a terrible position to put your reader into, and you should make sure to always have good examples and good praise mixed in to contrast any opposing or aggressive statements you ever make. -though you should avoid aggressive writing at all times- Sadly, this does put the reader, in this case my friend, in a very vulnerable position. It leaves them open for attack... but thankfully, she’s a wonderful friend and had trust that I wouldn’t hurt her on her counter-follow-up.)

So instead of using their 40 to 50 year old charts, start with looking at early millennial trends and desires. They tried for 'angst' to 'adultify' Sonic but it busted because we are STICKLERS for animation. Because their story was so scrapped together and had no actual character depth, motivation, or even emotional growth to develop for future game lore, they went for the 'easy made game' (Easy baked oven quote lol that’s just mean XD) We loved the trailer, it was well made, but they threw their animators elsewhere and made the programmers (WHO BLANATLY ADMIT THEY DONT KNOW HOW TO DO STORY/GRAPHICS) and made them do things they aren't trained in. Those micro-head movements and mouths took them A LONG TIME to figure out.

(My friend is now agreeing with me several times through my rant. This is a tactic that is used as ‘avoidance’ but also for ‘appeasement’. She’s probably tuned out by now, but respects what I’m saying but is also incredulous at it as well. It’s fair, I’ve cornered her into my sleepy-time rant, and being the lovable woman that she is, she is simply waiting for me to realize my follies lolol I wish she would have told me but I think she knew I was beyond ‘logical reasoning’ at this point and was just letting me get it all out lolol What a good friend TDT)

Animation can't be learned that fast AND expect them to program a game AT THE SAME TIME. Sonic Forces was a 'split up SEGA' trying to get those who survived and said, "Yeah, I'll stay in this job." to do things that THEY AREN'T EVEN TRAINED IN. you put a game programmer on animation and some other stuff they didn't know what to do with and expect it be a top-notch seller.

Friend: (in more attempts to join in and be a ‘participant’ of the conversation I’m clearly dominating -MY ABSOLUTE BAD- she tried to engage normal conversation flow into the discussion again. At this point, she probably did notice I wasn’t my usual self, and just decided to play along and enjoy the ride lolol I’m just guessing this tho, but it’s a good chance to reflect on what ‘wrongs’ I was doing and what ‘rights’ she was doing during this situation ;)b) My big issue with SEGA is that they rush everything. A lot of things would’ve been better if they had the proper time.

That was resolved actually.

Friend: Oh? It was? (Although this looks like an encouragement, it’s actually just another avoidance tactic to help me ‘get the venting out’ but it’s clear she’s not fully onboard anymore. When you write to discuss, you have to leave room for other’s opinions to shine through as well. Healthy conversation doesn’t mean forcing the other person to comply to you. A lot of this is educated guess based on past research, she knows this, and it’s clear she’s got her own research. Please remember to never shoot someone down when they try to engage you in your conversations. But again, this is the ‘don’t do this’ and me upset at my tired self for not waking up fast enough to contemplate how I was coming across in my wordings. Let’s continue to investigate and dissect the train wreck, shall we?)

That was an issue a few years ago but SEGA is taking their time, it's just that they can't organize themselves and hire the right professionals. They have old tactics, they have rookies that aren't 'Fresh Blood with professionalism' like they need. They don't need an old fart who knows his stuff, they need a new guy who is dedicated and passionate about their company who will remain there, learn them in and out, and knows his stuff SPECIFICALLY for the things SEGA needs. You have to grow that. You have to hire a very talented and young spunky and fresh professional, have him work with you for 10-15 years, and start training others. But SEGA is already recognized as a 'established' company.

(Friend is still agreeing with me, but is aware of my way of presenting it isn’t “As nice as I usually present it” so she starts mentioning the symptoms of Japanese Work Culture. A wonderful, insightful point to mention! But let’s see how I butcher this as well...)

It's not Japan though! (Again, shutting her down. Tsk tsk, sleepy me. Wake up, you lazy bum.) They won't let Japan interfere! They're all really rude to japan actually. The guys in charge, anyway. We all respect the officials, but SEGA of America people just want results. They are just funders, they don't actually work the company.

Friend: So you blame them for everything? (She’s trying to help me see that my writing is coming off as ‘hate’ which is because of my aggressive writing follies I’m doing so bluntly. Let’s please all admire my friend’s patience as she lets me rant and kindly waits for me to realize how bad I’m handling my 16 hr shift from yesterday lolol)

Look, business is really unfair, and I get that, but if I have to rant (I’m starting to wake up more, oh goodie.) I'd say they really need to humble themselves and ask Japan to please take ownership again. They kicked out people due to a money crisis but they need a game that will be 'safe to secure money but get enough excited momentum to help us push on and continue.' which isn't Japan's strategy usually. Japan likes risks, they also like money too. They trust America too much (especially in the beginning) because America is a HUGE consumer. For the world in fact. But I think they sacrificed too much for the company (common in Japan) and trusted America too much in making decisions. The officials are too nice to say that America screwed them over because America wanted full control. Well guess what? They have too much control now and their product is sinking..

Friend: You’ve got a lot of fire about this topic. (After I completely disregarded reading her follows-ups and continued to rant, my unconditionally kind friend finally threw in the towel, realizing I was no where near my usually ‘present’ self and was probably just flopped back in her chair smiling at my idiocy of not understanding her kind and subtly hints.) Go ahead and rant it out. (BOOM! Obvious right!? I should have corrected myself but at this point, I was writing like wild fire with droopy, waking up eyes and didn’t even read it during my long paragraphs...)

Sonic won't ever fade away due to it's fans, but the company is struggling to figure itself out for YEARS now. I just worry what they plan to do next. But I have a theory that they are really putting the next game in Japan's hands, a lot of activity is happening in SEGA of Japan, and they're spending WAY MORE TIME on the next installment of Modern Sonic (or Classic, still unsure which one it is yet.) I really think they need a remake game to give them profit, then use that profit for their next big installment. But so far, I think they are working on a game BUT corona might have effected production so I'm sure they are working but I'm concerned if Corona helped manage 'time and quality' or is helping to ruin it...That I can't investigate yet :( I just wish for the best (I’M FINALLY WAKING UP FULLY AS I STOP AND REALIZE-) Sorry for my rant! My theory talk showed through and I don't usually like doing that so forgive me. I'm tired and that's why T-T

Friend: It’s cool we all need to rant sometimes. (My friend’s going to make it to Heaven TwT she’s so kind.)

(Then I profusely apologized a billion times cause I realize how badly this all went down. lol)

(But the terror hasn’t ended... she mentioned some youtube videos mentioning other opinions as well. -which I’m usually cautious of cause some of them can be fanon.-)

OHhhh did he mention the arcade crash??? the literal WORST event in SEGA history??? That's literally where they sank the titanic, SEGA has never recovered from selling off their stocks. (I’M BACK AT IT AGAIN. -facepalm-) Shareholders are everything now and it's the biggest loss ever. Also, the problem is that kids don't play the games, (Rereading my follies and wanting to answer but still only just waking up...) but SEGA can't figure out why they like the characters and can't seem to take the FREAKIN' TIME to learn their lore. (Overwhelming the conversation again.) My easy steps: Re-establish Sonic lore CANONLY AND CORRECTLY, Re-gather the Japanese Officials original plans and notes, guides and study art, Re-make some popular games with the most details on Animation, Fluidity of motion graphics, and with modern Technology incorporated into the game. Once that is accomplished, they will have enough money to then- Create a continuity. Only with a flowing story and relevant past lore can they start moving forward. Animation will target their audience, Story and character re-established arcs will bring nostalgia and new blood to the field of their games, and then Japan's influences will keep it authentic for the continuities so we don't have fandom mixing with canon NEARLY AS BADLY as before anymore. Ugh, it does matter their sales, but I literally bought a book on the history of SEGA, and read a really compelling history article about more then just the Console Wars... I know SEGA has survived literally the edge of extinction on multiple fronts, but someone needs to take charge of their Sonic branch, and it's... it's just too outdated. kk, sorry for the rant.

Friend: (After being multiple times ignored, even after my brief moment of clarity, is still an angel. Frustrated, maybe, but an angel.) And your steps sound really good. Also mostly just listen to his vids if you ever do. It’s ok we all need to rant. (THE WORLD DOESN’T DESERVE THIS GURL T-T)

I'm tired so my 'angry' is showing and it's not professional XD do you mind if I post my rant? lol Actually, no. (Realize how awfully I delivered my ideas, this is where I begin to see my errors and where the clarity comes into play. -we all have our off days lol- )

Friend: Go for it

I want to but it's too aggressive. I'm too lazy to rewrite it out so I'll just save that for another day XD You got a rare treat

Friend: (This is actually interesting and fascinating to her. But she realized then that I finally did see my error.) Concerned you’ll get aggressive responses back?

Honest opinion is sometimes too blunt and I need to be careful about that

Friend: I mean it’s always good to try and get most of the anger out so you seem more professional (Saint. Literally. A saint. She’s puts up with too much of my crap XD)

That, and also the war of 'But this is Cutegirlmayra? She's so sweet and constantly puts her answers in supportive, positive lights so that if SEGA were to see it, they would feel empowered to try it instead of threatened and throw it off as hate or something unprofessional.' I have an image too. I can't post something super aggressive or I'll lose trust. You're right.

Friend: I’m glad you put a lot of thought into everything you post

I apologize for it tho T-T I didn't mean to dominate with such opinions...lol I worry who I influence, you know?

Friend: Most people don’t and trust me they get into trouble cause of it. And yeah.

I don't want to create trolls or heated arguments. I want to teach people they can safely express an idea without using such awful communication. Exactly, it's professional fanism. lol Positive writing is what companies and their employees actually read. (I’m almost fully awake now lol, realizing my blunder and starting to explain why I was in the wrong. Good on me, pat on the back, admitting I was coming off as aggressive is the first step to changing and getting better lolol Also, I’m including her more, and I’m saying “You’re right.” and she’s going “And yeah.” which is a indicator that the conversation is slowly returning to an enjoyable and healthy one. ;w; happy endings lol) That's why I skip the aggressive stuff, even if it's passive, I write in a neutral setting so everyone feels safe to read, even someone who works at SEGA.

Friend: (Mentions some nintendo youtuber rant and also news as well, then says-) It was honestly very professional sounding and not rude. (MY HEART, YOU KNEW THAT WAS AN AGGRESSIVE RANT lololol So nice to me TDT)

Lol you had to have seen how slightly aggressive it was tho. (I’M CALLING YOUR BLUFF, BESTIE lol) You literally asked, "You blame America for it?" which is not always true but semi-true. They were way too prideful (Aggressive word) and haughty (Still aggressive terminology) about their success in other Japanese products that they wanted to completely change Sonic to their own wishes, pushing out Japan's creative "licenses" (I use this word loosely, and this gives a slightly aggressive feel but is also more dumbed down so it's more 'passionate' than just aggressive)

Friend: Yeah I saw it was slightly aggressive (Either is starting to realize it or at last admitting it now that I am fully aware of how I was coming across. I also used indicators to show what words were aggressive to help illustrate my point. This is showing I’m much more awake now :)b)

Gotta use those neutral tactics or no one will feel comfortable just reading your idea and instead, will constantly look for a place to intercept with aggression back, whether they agree or not, they're looking for ways to self-insert their aggression if you are also aggressive. I can't write something that doesn't somewhat support and uplift SEGA of America. Why? Because like I said, they literally have survived EVERYTHING and have stuck around. Without them, there wouldn't be an American branch and the money issue would have ended SEGA. Some might say, "But they've done so much harm than good! Why is the money thing such a thing to be praised for?" But it's huge, it's so big, it kinda does offset the wrongs. (Now I’m doing the healthy thing, doubling back and mentioning the good to try and recover. The damage may be done, but she did recommend some videos for me and was polite, so I’m just trying to smooth things over and leave on a ‘wrapped up’ conclusion. But... I should have just left it there in all honesty xD Some things you can’t double-back and correct lol) America is a great business-influenced mindset. None of us would be fans of Sonic without them.

(Friend continues to agree but realizes I may slip into ranting again. She just asks if I can watch the videos.)

America does have it's advantages in some fields and areas, but their biggest most redeeming quality is that they saved SEGA which gave us our biggest love and obsession: Sonic. Now, my usage in that writing was still off neutral, but combined with the slightly aggressive statements, made a GREAT contrast. It's still slightly praising

Friend: And they stopped Japan from giving him a human girlfriend right away.

Me: Exactly.

Friend: I will always thank them for that. (She’s still a sweetheart, working herself into the conversation so it stays healthy. lol Such amazing follow-ups too!)

So although I don't like what's happening, I'm also grateful... to a degree lol We need SEGA of America, which is why I think Japan just ignores them now lolol they know they owe them a lot.

(Friend mentions videos and as I go to save them to my ‘watch later’ sees that one of them is about Nintendo.)

Yeeeahhh I've noticed that Nintendo is starting to trail into 'cash grab' tactics and that's sickening (MORE AGGRESSIVE WORDING??? HAVE YOU NOT LEARNED YOUR LESSON CHILD?! It takes time to fully wake up lolol) cause before, I literally thought, "Nintendo can do no wrong" their marketing was ON POINT! but the stuff they said about Peach and now... I think new, unprofessional blood (like SEGA) has entered Nintendo and the older guys are either 'training' or 'retired to other ventures'. Nintendo is having it's own 'we used to not be prideful but now we're getting a little too pompous (Another aggressive wording... This can easily trigger people to comment with further aggression either against you or for you, but no aggression is the ideal. Which is continuing to show my lack of remaining conscious lol) about ourselves' and they're starting to act like Disney before their big crash. Disney also had 'limited time offers' with their VHS movies. Now, Nintendo is doing that. They'll make money, but at what cost? When you lose your costumer's trust...

Friend: And yeah the 35th Mario thing immediately reminded me of the Disney vault

Me: Yep. I'm worried for Nintendo. Don't get me wrong! Disney is really good with money grabs, but they... they also act high and mighty (More aggressive statements, wake up, darn it!!!) and their fanbase literally calls them 'an empire' so the fan-trust is gone. That makes you 'lame/outdated' and fans begin to look for 'what's cool?' instead.

(Friend is now re-realizing I’m ‘in and out’ so is trying to use a effective avoidance tactic by asking about different things to help my ranting fully stop.)

Sorry, I'm tired, I get on these rants and I don't mean too. (Trying to shake myself awake again.) I'm sorry.

So we returned to a healthy conversation, but I hope this interesting insight has revealed how to and what not to do about Aggressive Writing. Always stick to Neutral writing if you can, putting in a compelling counter-argument. In this aggressive writing demo, you saw that I tried to cover up my follies by saying counter-praise, but praise writing can be just as bad as aggressive writing. Passive writing can sometimes be annoying (aggressive word choice) too if you come off as disinterested or uncaring, which can still result in negative comments coming at you, or someone overly praising in their writings.

This has been all I’m showing you cause it’s kinda embarrassing ^^; but I hope it helps you in what ‘not to do’ while writing your ideas out :)b

Learn from my sleepy-time mistakes! lol

#cutegirlmayra #aggressive writing #what not to do #sonic #nintendo #marketing #sega #commentary #rant writing #an example to help teach #sonic the hedgehog #sonic idw #sonic comic #sonic rant

18 notes · View notes

kittymsmithwritesstuff · 4 years

Text

Commission: Surprises

A Valorant commission for @sr-023! Was fun to write. :3

If you’re interested in commissions you can find my prices here: (x)

Tags: fluff, humor, light angst, people cooking together. Platonic Viper/Jett getting to know each other a little bit more in the kitchen.

Word count: 2413

-----

“Oh my God, you cook?”

Viper without her mask gave way to several emotions Jett forgot she was capable of. Like amusement. “Yes. And I eat, too.”

“Wow! I never would have guessed. I thought you subsisted on like, diluted snake venom and children’s tears.”

Viper rolled her eyes, peeling a potato in one smooth movement, leaving a curl of peel to fall into a bowl. “It was Breach’s turn to cook. I don’t know about you, but snake venom is far more palatable than lutefisk.”

Jett couldn’t tell if she was kidding or not. “You’re just secretly a sweetheart.”

Viper twirled the knife in her hand and pointed it at Jett, mouth a hard line. “Don’t push it.”

Jett shrugged it off smoothly, hoping she didn’t see the stutter of nerves in her shoulders. She looked over the kitchen island-thawed meat, potatoes, green beans that looked like they must have come from a garden, except there weren’t any gardens on the compound that she knew of so...beans-of-mysterious-origin. And all of it in huger quantities than needed to feed the compound. How very American.

And there was Viper in the middle of all of it. Peeling potato after potato in a silent kitchen, a bowl filling with impeccable ribbons. She wondered where she might have learned to peel a potato like that. Like, that totally wasn’t a master poisoner skill, right? It was like a housewife or a hobby cook that was…really into peeling potatoes. Given she was usually taken with annoying Viper, and Viper in turn was taken with threatening her life with any method that violated the Geneva Convention, the fact she hadn’t already kicked her out must have meant she was in an unusually gregarious mood.

And maybe Jett was in her own kind of mood from witnessing the phenomenon of the great mighty Viper being distinctly un-snakelike. She glanced at all the food again, rocking from heel to toe. “Can I help?”

“Yes.”

“Great! How?”

“By leaving until I’m done.”

Jett rolled her eyes, coming to the other side of the island, out of stabbing distance. “C’mon, please?”

Viper stopped mid peel, nicking the skin so it fell, unfinished. She looked at it like it had cut in front of her in line, but it was too public to make a scene. Her eyes flicked up to Jett, who spread her palms over her heart. “I’m good with knives!”

Viper looked from her to the meat, then back again. She sniffed. “You may cut the beef into steaks, if you insist. Inch and a half.”

She almost buzzed, throwing one of her knives up to hover beside her and quickly washing her hands. She wasn’t super into cooking usually, but it was kind of like getting to see the lions actually up and wandering around at the zoo instead of just sitting there and waiting for their next meal. Very aware of the eyes on her, she grabbed her knife from the air, adjusted the meat on the cutting board, and slowly started cutting down into it, trying to channel every lesson her dad ever gave her in the kitchen, all of which she’d ignored so she could go back to doing literally anything else.

Evidently, she wasn’t channeling them very well, as there was soon a knife clattering over the counter toward her. She jumped, half expected to get stabbed, but the knife rested a foot away. She looked up at Viper, who looked absolutely pained. “Use…use an actual knife.”

“This is a knife?”

“It’s a throwing knife. The blade is five inches at best. That is a chef’s knife.” She went back to the potatoes, though somehow Jett still felt her eyes on her. Maybe she had false eyespots like a moth and her real eyes were on her forehead. She palmed the handle, tilting the blade so it glinted in the stark kitchen light, then lined it up and finished cutting the steak-smooth, easy, like butter. She looked over at Viper.

“Good,” she said. She was still peeling potatoes. How many potatoes were there? “Set it on the plate. Use the seasoning there. Not too much.”

Jett snorted, setting the meat aside and using her meat-juice covered hand on the unlabled spice shaker. “Yeah okay, Mom.”

There was another nick, a potato peel falling half done. Jett could see her muscles tense-her whole body, in fact, went rigid, but as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, and the knife was steadily scraping against the potato again. She could have imagined it. This was Viper after all, the same woman that once “accidentally” bumped her into a poison pit because Jett had been “annoying”.

And yet…

She shrugged, flipping and seasoning the other side of the steak, apparently to her cooking neighbors satisfaction, and then went ahead and cut the next steak, seasoning and flipping it, leaving bloody lines on the seasoning bottle until she realized just how unsanitary that probably was, and got the idea to clean it, then grab a paper towel and fold it over a few times, wrap the bottle and tape it. Viper raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think I’ve seen you do something so smart.”

Smart? She just called her smart? Sure, it was backhanded, but she’d never heard her call anybody smart. Especially not her. She threw on a British accent as she said, “don’t need anymore bloody spice shakers, huh?”

She hummed. But it could have been a laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a British person sound like that.”

“Phoenix said if I ever try to do the accent in his presence again he’ll set me on fire.”

“As is his right.”

Jett snorted, returning to her cutting and seasoning. “You’re not…wrong.”

Viper finally finished her unholy pile of starch and set up two pots of water to boil the approximate 230,000 potatoes, give or take a half dozen. Jett finished her own job and set the steaks up on pans to broil, Viper taking over from there and telling her to “get the beans ready”. Considering she’d only ever eaten green beans straight from the can at 2am this was a bit of a difficult task. Difficult, unfamiliar tasks tended to make her nervous. But Jett wasn’t about to be shown up by some beans.

So she confidently put the burner on high, grabbed a handful and dropped them in the water once it was boiling, thus splashing water over burners, herself, countertop and floor, sending up a grand sizzling equitable to the sounds of demon laughter bubbling up from hell. She yipped, jumping away, in doing so smashing into Viper, who almost slipped on the water, caught herself on the counter and flicked the gas off.

The look she gave Jett could have boiled the ocean.

“Get out.” She said. Low, dangerous, like the buzz of a rattlesnake’s tail.

Jett scurried backward, tapping her hip to count how many of her knives she still had on her as her calf knocked against a chair at one of the circular dining tables in the room. She sat in it, not entirely sure as to why. Probably because Viper hadn’t straight up killed her, and she had the self-preservation instincts of that rat from Ratatouille.

She watched from her seat, how she moved around the kitchen as if on a breeze, smoothly following the curve of the wind, twirling between the meat and the potatoes, setting up the beans by gently placing them into the pot (which, in hindsight, was definitely common sense that Jett…apparently didn’t possess). The beautiful potato skins were tossed in one large bowl and covered with water, then a timer was set. It felt like watching an artist, spawning a question in her head.

Viper saw her staring and glowered. “Why are you still here?”

Her feet fidgeted, and she clasped her fingers together to avoid tugging at her hair, like her Mom had taught her. Better to look pensive than apprehensive. “Were you a chef?”

Viper stared, glower softening to a neutral expression tilting towards surprise. She glanced back towards the kitchen, slowly crossing her arms under her chest. “Why would you ask that?”

“Well, cooking is like, a form of chemistry, right?” She pulled the only fact she’d ever retained from Home Ec out of her ass, hoping and praying it worked, cause otherwise she was probably going to be banished from the room…and maybe dinner. Man, she really hoped she wasn’t banned from dinner.

Thankfully, the wind blew in some luck. “I was a double major at University of Washington. Culinary Arts and Chemistry.”

She let herself smile, just a bit. “So, you’re good with knives, too.”

“You could say so.” She was eyeing her, and instead of sitting in the chair across from her, she leaned against the nearby wall. “Did you have any training with your knives?”

Jett was surprised she’d bothered to ask. “I taught myself. Since I was a kid.” She leaned back and swung her hand casually, swirling a knife into the air to illustrate her point. “My mom wanted me to go to college but, like, I can control wind with my mind, so that sounded kind of lame.”

Viper cocked her head to the side. “So, your powers, it’s all mental manipulation?”

Jett shrugged slightly. “I mean, mostly. I also gotta like, move my hands and legs and stuff. But I mostly just think about it. Or don’t-like it’s natural now, like walking or breathing.”

“Fascinating,” she said with a thoughtful tone, returning to the food. Somewhat hesitant, Jett joined her, at a respectful distance. She stabbed the potatoes, and apparently that meant something because she drained them immediately after, chucked in some butter and started sprinkling some salt and pepper and beating the living shit out of them with a hand mixer. She noticed Jett standing and nodded toward the sink. “Make yourself useful and drain the potato skins. Toss them in the bowl with olive oil and the spice mix and put them on a pan in the oven.”

She blinked, then shrugged and slipped around her. Now that she was pretty sure she wasn’t going to get speared through, or find her way into another poison pit, she decided she…sort of liked working with Viper in the kitchen. She was rude but she also was sort of…normal? As normal as she was capable of being? She did as directed, coating the skins until they looked unhealthy and chuckling as she threw in the spices. “Y’know, I probably should have asked if this was poisoned before I put it on.”

Viper huffed, turning off the mixer with a click. “Please, not everything I do involves poison. I wasn’t born with, with tubocurarine dripping from my fingertips, hell I wasn’t like this, I was made into it.”

She tossed everything in the oven. Jett paused, gripping her arms, trying to seem casual. She’d heard a few throwaway comments before, they all had, but right now she thought, perhaps, if she phrased it right, she could ask certain questions without sounding (and being) a total dick. “What’s tubocurarine?”

“A neurotoxin, first used for poison arrows and later to keep muscles relaxed during surgery. It would paralyze you for a couple hours, basically.”

“Oh, interesting.” She bit her lip, digging her nails into her skin. “Hey, you don’t have to say anything but, can I, can I ask who?”

Viper paused, turning slowly to look down her nose at her. She was, again, reminded of the other woman’s venomous namesake. “Excuse me?”

“Who, uh…made you, uh,” in fear of phrasing it wrong, Jett gestured vaguely at Viper, who narrowed her eyes.

The air was heavy, but it wasn’t boiling like with the beans. It wasn’t even rumbling. It was contemplative, quiet, even a little sad. Like a waveless ocean. “I don’t know.” She said finally.

Jett blinked. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean I don’t know.” She shrugged smoothly, though she was visibly tense. Like when I called her mom¸ Jett thought, a stone sinking in her stomach. “My family, my friends, myself-it all was taken from me. And I don’t have faces or names to put it to.”

Her shoulders dropped. “Shit.”

Viper let out a very uncharacteristic snort, pulling the steaks and potato skins from the oven. “That’s about the best way to describe it. Perhaps in some ways it’s my fault, I didn’t fight it as much as I should have…” she stopped, staring at the steaks and then shaking her head, taking a deep breath. “Though if I ever do find out who, they’ll wish they’d killed me. Anyway,” she gave Jett a sidelong glance. “Now you. Venice.”

A bolt of anxiety speared through her being and she gripped the strap of her tank top reflexively. “I-I didn’t do it.”

“A floating city and a wind radiant found at its base? Please.”

She pursed her lips. “I. Didn’t. Do. It.”

She turned slightly, furrowing her brow, eyes darting over her face as she began to move the steaks to a plate. “You’re serious.”

“Yeah.” She looked at her feet. “I was there when it started cracking, and I used my powers to jump off and landed on some chunk that hadn’t come up with the rest of the island. Some guy got me on his phone camera. Nobody believed me when I said I had nothing to do with it. And if I’m being honest with myself, they probably never will.” She sighed and forced herself to look up, braced for the pity, or the accusation-you’re bad at lying, she’d say, like so many others.

But in place of either, there was a slight, slight smile. “Guess we have more in common than I thought, Jett.”

---

Everyone was very thankful to not have to try and find the politest way to refuse Breach’s lye-soaked cod. Jett saying she helped also reassured everyone that the food didn’t contain Viper’s latest experiment. At least, that was until Viper was noticeably not eating, glancing around the tables, sipping only her water as the members of Valorant gradually stopped chewing, some digging into their potatoes, Breach eyeing his steak suspiciously. Jett glanced around and suddenly choked, falling off her chair.

Phoenix screamed, scrambling backward over his chair, the others quickly beginning to scoot away until Jett sat up again, grinning.

“Gotcha,” Viper said, smiling over her glass.

#fluff #humor #light angst #cooking together #viper valorant #jett valorant #valorant #writing commission #commissions open

32 notes · View notes

mango7889 · 4 years

Photo

Prance. One of many nations that are now all part of the greater Equestria. Each nation had been pulled into Equestria in order to extend the control of Queen Nightmare Moon, But to this day each nation still maintains a sense of independence in a form of a commonwealth. Prance was always famous for its fine art and food, the latter being something that drew ponies in from all across the empire.

Eclair was one such pony. She came for one of Prance’s most prestigious culinary schools, L'Academie de Cuisine in Maresailles. Some of the empire’s best pastry chefs got their start at this fine establishment, and Éclair was hoping to leave with a degree that would get her a job as lead pastry chef at none other than Canterlot castle. It was her dream to get to craft amazing dishes for the queen herself. It also helped that her sister, Aurora, worked at the castle, which gave her an excuse to spend more time with her.

Eclair’s time in Prance was not as fun as she had hoped it to be, much of the opposite in fact. Eclair loved her home back in Canterlot. Despite being from a family of pure blooded bat ponies, her family wasn’t wealthy. In her household, they’d decided to simply live alongside the other races of Equestria, rather than flaunt their genetics. But in their modesty, they still had a nice house just outside of the main city of Canterlot. She missed waking up and helping her mom bake for their small bakery. She missed having to drag Aurora out of her bed after a late night of studying for medical training. She even missed her dad’s annoyed rants about the “stuck up'' pure blood nobles looking at him funny.

Here in Prance, every day was long and not quite pleasant. It wasn’t from a language barrier or anything; Eclair had a very good understanding of Prench, and most schools in other nations taught Equestrian standard as the official second language. What had really started to get to her was the culture. People were more reclusive, keeping to themselves most of the time. Eclair and her sister had been taught by their mom to always try to make friends wherever they went. The two of them took that to heart and would always strike up conversations with anypony they found themselves standing next to. Here though, they just gave her odd looks anytime she tried chatting with someone she waited in line with or passed in her school. On occasion even going as far as to mock the ‘silly foreigner’.

Eclair did take solace in the fact that she was almost done. Two long years of studying in Prance were coming to as close as their final assignment closed in.

And Eclair was in full panic mode.

Eclair had never been bad at baking or decorating, far from in fact. But even though she was good at what she did, she had no idea what to make for her final presentation. She knew that the ponies back in Canterlot loved fine foods from all over Equestria. But she also knew that the ponies who lived in Canterlot castle, the place she wanted to work, preferred seeing stuff that was more locally classic, but with a flare from other nations. It was Eclairs hope that she could really master the art of making Prench spins of classic Equestrian fair. However anytime she made something like that, the teacher would insult her dish, saying it was “An insult to Prench cuisine,” or “A failure to understand the finer things.'' It was frustrating to say the least, but she had pushed through it this far and wanted to finish.

The problem was that her teacher had assigned each of them a recipe to carry out, and she had even stopped to tell Éclair specifically to make it the actual dish and not “A peasant’s rendition.” Aside from feeling insulted by her remark, Eclair was in a panic as she tried to figure out how to make her dish special, but traditionally Prench. The dish in question was eclairs, She figured it was her teacher's version of a joke. As to say that if she did poorly, she failed her own namesake.

Eclair flipped through one of her cookbooks frantically and pausing every once in a while to compare recipes with those from another book she had found in one of the campus libraries. As she tried desperately to find a good starting point, a pony she only knew in passing sat down next to her. The pale pink unicorn with a two tone red and silver mane that she knew as Étoile Rouge, or just Rouge because it was easier to say.

She wore a nervous smile. “Your name is Eclair right? I saw you grabbing a bunch of books for baking and I was wondering if you wanted to swap ideas for the assignment.”

Eclair was honestly a little shocked, because for the entire time she was at the school, her interactions with other students had been either occasional small talk or some of them being rude to her. “Yeah, and sure, I’d love to work with you! …I do have to ask though… Most ponies haven’t really approached me the whole time I’ve been here. So why now?”

Rouge looked rather embarrassed. “Well to be honest, I don’t think it’s personal for most ponies here. You see, in this part of Prance, ponies are really reserved. It’s a culture that exists in many of the larger cities here. For example, I come from a rather wealthy family from here and growing up, I was taught to reject anything seen as unrefined or uncouth. For most it means that we often shy away from foreign ponies as we can’t really gauge you. For others, they’ve actually grown to resent ponies like you as inferior.”

“Hmm, well that explains a lot. Honestly I kind of feel bad for you. Does it ever bother you that you need to look at everypony under a microscope, rather than just giving them the benefit of the doubt and having a conversation?”

Rouge’s expression turned a little douer. “Yes, every day.. Don’t get me wrong, I love many facets of my life here in Prance, the art, the music, the food... But I’ve always felt like I didn't belong. Then you came here and I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of what you had. And to answer your original question, I was hoping to get a chance to really learn about you and Equestria’s heartland as a whole.”

Eclair blinked. “Sooooo, you’re saying that you want to be my friend?” Rouge blushed and nodded. Eclair was smiling widely. “Yes! Finally I can actually talk to somepony. Help me figure out a good recipe for my eclairs and I’ll tell you everything about back home!”

Rouge gave a sheepish grin. “Actually could you also help me with a recipe for cupcakes that’s like something you would make in the Canterlot region? I know our teacher won’t really like it but I already have great grades and I would love to learn about your cooking.” She then paused for a second. “And wait a minute, She’s having you make eclairs? Seems a little mean.”

Eclair laughed despite the stress. “I know right? And I’d love to show you some of my recipes!”

The next week was by far the best week Eclair had during her entire stay at the culinary school. She finally had somepony pleasant to talk to, and she was making real progress towards a final product her teacher might actually like. She had come to really see Rouge as a friend, and through her, she learned more about Prance as a whole. Getting to see the country through Rouge’s eyes made her see why she had trouble fitting in. It actually felt similar to when she was a filly going to a nice school in upper Canterlot. The parents there would make snide comments about her befriending “lower class ponies” and acting improper for a “pure blood”. Only now, she couldn’t really escape it, She was, however, experienced in just dealing with it.

Eclair wasn’t the only one learning from the unlikely pairing. Rouge had always felt out of place in Prance, and the more she listened to Eclair talk about life back in the heartland of Equestria, the more she longed for a life like that. She had also been learning to put an unorthodox spin on her dish that she knew their teacher would hate, but her grades were already stellar and she was guaranteed to pass anyway.

It was the last night that they had to work on their assignments and both of them had a final recipe ready for the morning. It was finally time for R&R as the two relaxed in Eclair’s dorm room. Eclair was packing up her stuff since her airship would be leaving the evening after the teacher graded her final assignment and decided whether she passed or not.

She looked over at Rouge writing a letter. “You know it feels like they’re really trying to shove me out the door. I mean do I really need to leave the day of my final? Can’t I have like one more day?”

Rouge sighed, also dreading losing the one pony she felt like she really got along with. “It’s how they usually run it. They aren’t exactly eager to keep foreign students in Prance for longer than needed. It mainly comes down to old grudges really.”

Eclair stopped packing for a moment, really starting to feel the sting of having to say goodby. “I’m gonna miss you Rouge, and we better keep in touch.”

She just smiled back at her. “Oh don’t worry. I’ll make sure you don’t forget about me. Now come on, you should be packing. I mean, we do need to be getting some sleep soon.”

The moment Rouge turned back to the letter she was writing, she felt Éclair throw her hooves around her in a crushing hug. Startled and blushing she launched her paper and quill across the room before settling. After their hug, they shared a laugh as Rouge then needed to go pick up her papers and practically pull her quill out of the wall.

The next morning was a blur as Éclair flew around her workstation, sometimes literally, putting her dish together. She had made a recipe that was far more Prench then how she normally made her eclairs, but it would definitely buy her more points with their teacher. All that stress and testing would finally pay off as she pulled the finished product out of the oven and put it together with the chocolate and filling.

She brought it before her teacher, brimming with excitement. The teacher simply gave her a stern look. “Eclair perhaps you should save your excitement until after I’ve tried your dish. And if you truly want that certificate, this better be an improvement on the other parodies you served to me before.”

Eclair deflated as the gravity of the situation flooded in. She silently begging her teacher to like the pastries. Otherwise, the last two years would have been for naught. She watched with bated breath as her teacher tested the dessert, watching for any change in expression or sign that she had done it.

Finally, the teacher put it down, made some notes, then looked at her. “Well Eclair, I must say, you have actually managed to impress me. This éclair actually tastes comparable to something made here in Prance. I asked that you show me improvement and you have. Keep baking like this and I’m sure there is a bright future ahead of you. You’ve passed.”

The teacher signed off on a certificate with Eclair’s name on it and gave it to her. Eclair silently and respectfully took the now rolled up certificate in her wing. “Thank you miss. I’ll keep improving.”

She made her way out of their classroom and into the hall. The moment the door was closed though, she started jumping up and down. “Yes! I did it, I’m finally done!”

Rouge had been waiting outside for her to finish. “Congratulations Eclair!”

She ran up and now she was the one hugging Eclair. The two stayed there for a little while talking about the final. Sure enough, the teacher was rather displeased with Rouge’s dish. Asking why she had chosen to throw away all her knowledge and make something so uncouth. All Rouge did was smile and tell her that she was mixing things up a bit.

As much as both of them wanted to stay and chat for the rest of the day, Eclair had to get ready to leave. Rouge stayed with her all the way up to the skyport and they said their goodbyes as Eclair boarded her airship. One fifteen hour flight later, and her airship was arriving at the Canterlot skyport. Eclair had made it just into the main building when she got her welcome.

“Eclair!!” She suddenly felt her hooves leave the ground as a dark blue blur slammed into her. Now sprawled on her back, her wide eyes looked into the equally wide eyes of her sister Aurora. She was quickly pulled up into a hug. “Oh I missed you so much! We have so much catching up to do, and I wanna hear all about your classes, and try all your new recipes, and I’ve gotta tell you aaaaall about my job at the castle!”

Eclair hugged her right back and started telling her about her time in Prance. Some of it was a bit of a shock to Aurora, hearing about the unfriendly nature of the ponies she was meeting.

“I’ll have to tell you more over some coffee when we get home. And I definitely want to hear about how your placement in the castle clinic is going.” Eclair started dusting herself off.

Aurora clapped her hooves together. “And you’ll bake me some of your pastries that I’ve been missing for two years?”

Eclair laughed and ruffled her mane a bit. “Yes, I’ll bake you one of your favourites. Now come on, I’m sure mom and dad want some time together too.”

“Oh, and you aren’t going to introduce me?” Eclair’s spun in place to see Rouge standing a little bit behind the two of them, carrying two suitcases in her crimson magic.

Eclair looked at her in disbelief. “Rouge? What are you doing here!?”

Rouge walked up to them so she could put down her bags. “Well I told you about how I feel back in Prance. And that letter I was writing the night before you left was to my family, a sort of formal declaration of my moving to the Heartland to pursue my passion. They’ll probably be livid, but I don’t really mind. All I want is to work in some small bakery here in canterlot.”

Aurora took the chance to speak up. “I know a really cute little cafe in lower Canterlot looking for a baker!”

Rouge smiled at Aurora. “I assume this is your darling sister you told me so much about. If I remember right, your name is Aurora.”

Aurora blushed a bit, hearing that Eclair had been talking, which usually meant she told the embarrassing stories. Not really saying anything, she simply nodded to Rouge.

Rouge hopped over and threw her hoof around Aurora’s shoulder. “Well I’d love it if you could introduce me to the pony who runs it! In fact, How about you give me the directions and I’ll meet you two there at five for coffee?”

Eclair stepped in. “That sounds like a great idea. It gives me some time to get home and see my parents. So I guess I’ll be seeing you later Rouge, and for the record, I’m really happy to have you here.”

#More story stuff #AQM #Eclair #Aurora Heart #Étoile Rouge #Last story about the bats sisters for a bit promise

23 notes · View notes

darkpoisonouslove · 4 years

Text

Sparks of Life Actual Trivia

As the title suggests, I will do my best to try to keep this to things that are actual trivia and not the outlines of fics (even though, let’s be real, I could turn anything into story material). Here we go.

- Valtor’s most used emoji is a blue heart that he is always sending Griffin. He barely uses any of the other emojis and that one somehow always appears as the most recently used as well as simply the most used. Griffin finds it cute even when she jokes that her most used emoji is for certain the one that is facepalming. Not just when she’s texting with him but with the twins, too, and sometimes, yes, even with Faragonda (though, that is usually when the conversation steers to something Hagen did XD). Her actual most used emoji is the one with the sunglasses because she is a badass bitch. (All of this is totally Zarathustra’s fault as she is the one that gave Griffin the opportunity to use literally every single emoji there is (and annoyed her into doing it).) Her second most used emoji is the one that blows a kiss. That one can be used both ironically and unironically. She might be a sassy bitch but she is a sassy bitch that really loves her people and even shows it from time to time. XD

- Valtor bought Griffin a waterfall incense burner:

and she has not been able to recover from that gift ever since. It meant a lot to her since she immediately fell in love with the idea of a waterfall incense burner when she first saw it but she didn’t think of buying one for herself since Valtor has a delicate sense of smell and strong scents irritate him easily. She needs to be careful when she buys scented candles and perfumes (or she’d end up giving them to the twins, again) and she didn’t think it a good idea to have one of those as she rarely burned incense anymore because of his sensitivity. She was very touched when he bought one for her and absolutely loves watching the smoke cascading down like it’s water. They still have to maneuver with it sometimes but it’s all good.

- One time Emalyn had brought out the old albums with whatever photos she and Griffin’s dad had managed to take of their daughter. She and Valtor were going through them while Griffin was fussing on Valtor’s shoulder (no need to let go of him just because she’s not thrilled about his curiosity). Valtor noticed the bowl of gummy bears in one of the photos and asked about it. Emalyn laughed before telling the story about how for one of Griffin’s birthdays in college Ediltrude had made vodka gummy bears since Griffin really loved eating the things when she was little and, well, it needed to be appropriate for the celebration at hand so just ordinary gummy bears wouldn’t cut it. Valtor listened intently but Griffin could tell there was something making him sad as he wasn’t talking a lot after that. So she picked up a packet of gummy bears next time they went shopping and that was the first time Valtor ate gummy bears (and the first time Griffin ate gummy bears ever since those vodka soaked ones) as well as, quite possibly, the last. He wasn’t a fan and tried not to antagonize her about loving them. He made sure to buy her a packet once in a while instead. He also might have gotten her a gummy bear bouquet for her birthday.

- Valtor and Griffin love to train together. There is a fitness room in the penthouse and they do spend some of their together time in there even if Griffin rarely uses any of the equipment in it. She might use the treadmill occasionally but that’s about it. She prefers to do yoga while Valtor does his exercises. Their background music choices might have clashed a little as she basically needs hers to be soothing spiritual music while Valtor prefers more energetic tunes. They solved that with wireless earphones. The matter of getting distracted while watching the other (and even pulling the other into that distraction as well) has been harder to resolve but they love spending time together even when they are both absorbed in their own things and it is only about feeling the silent presence of the other so they keep it up. They even spar together as Valtor used to take martial arts lessons and he might have taught Griffin as well so that they can have all that fun together. You know, pressing each other into walls and pinning each other to the ground. ;) They love their training sessions.

- Bathroom commodities are a bit of a nightmare. Griffin has her vanity - luckily for her because otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to get to a mirror most of the time with Valtor is the way. He is not as much vain as he is a perfectionist and also self-conscious (thanks to his mothers) and he spends ages in front of the mirror. So does Griffin, though hers is more from vanity. Yet, she was the one saying she was surprised Valtor didn’t have mirrors in every room. They still have the regular weekly fight about the bathroom as a lot of the time it looks like one of them is only waiting for the other to come out so that they can go in. It’s a bit frantic in the morning which is a factor in why the bathroom issue is one of their biggest sources of conflict when they are still sleepy and irritable or running late. They also tend to love sharing it when they are truly sharing it, however. Joined bath is one of the most relaxing activities they can imagine, especially when they help each other wash their hair. And it is perfect for cuddling and all that good stuff. ;)

- They have a fireplace in the penthouse that they both love dearly. Valtor finds the crackling of the fire and the warmth soothing and Griffin loves curling up in front of the fireplace with a good book and a cup of tea. Even more so if Valtor is there although most of the time he has paperwork to attend to. She doesn’t mind if she can lean on him and read into the evening. Winter nights have never been cozier or warmer. Though, sometimes the atmosphere turns competitive when they play chess in front of the fireplace. They happen to play other games at times as well but chess is their favorite and the heat of the fire kind of adds to the intensity. It satisfies their craving for theatrics as they are both drama queens so it is certainly a favorite thing of theirs. They even had a “picnic” in front of the fireplace once. It was fun, though they almost managed to push one of the dishes into the fireplace so they had to estimate a safety distance there.

- Griffin bought Valtor pens in different colors to help him color code his schedule and know what is important and what is less so. It was really useful even if Valtor wasn’t really feeling the idea at the beginning. Once it started saving him time that he could spend with her, however, he was quickly on board with it. He’d also use them to draw Griffin pics on stray sheets of paper during the day while he was talking on the phone or having to wait for a document to get sent to him. He really started loving the idea. So much so that he didn’t notice he was signing paperwork with the pink pen until his secretary pointed it out. They had to print out all of it anew and he wasn’t thrilled about having to repeat the whole process. Griffin laughed - very uncharacteristically and unsympathetically of her - when he told her that evening and he wasn’t quite playing offended just to get her kisses. He didn’t mind that part, though, and he did keep the pens since they were useful and made his day somewhat brighter.

- They love to travel when they can. The weekends are usually free and even if that doesn’t leave them a lot of time for long trips, they still love exploring the “local” are. They just grab the car keys and some spare clothes and drive for as long as they can before they have to start coming back or until a town catches their eye. They sometimes pick a destination beforehand, though that is left to luck. Valtor usually lets Griffin pick it as they lay out a map and whatever she points to becomes their destination. It doesn’t really matter where they’ll end up when they are together. They even managed to get a little further away a few times when Valtor hired a private jet. It was a good way to see something new when they’d already explored a lot of the closer places and to add something different in their lives. And even if they had to come back too soon, they still have the memories and those magnets Griffin loves to buy from the places they visit instead of taking photos. Photos of them, at least. They end up with plenty beautiful shots of scenery. And one or two of Griffin when Valtor manages to catch her off guard. She has snapped loads of pics of him, though, as he would even pose for her (and she might have one or two framed in her office at work plus some more in the penthouse).

- Once they were on a date (before they moved in together), Valtor took her to a ferris wheel which stopped working right as they were at the very top. Valtor is still not over the crisis he had back then (nor the fit of rage) but it ended up being Griffin’s favorite date of theirs. Sure, they were stuck for about an hour and she needed to go to the toilet which might have been thanks to the low temperatures and the wind up there that had her freezing, but it wasn’t so bad when Valtor was with her. They watched the stars that they could see despite the city lights and they cuddled into each other for warmth. Well, she cuddled into him as he was still warm like an oven and she wasn’t sure how he was doing it. And of course, cuddling turned into kissing which also got intense. They both had to fix their clothes and button what had been unbuttoned when the wheel started again most unexpectedly. Griffin still looks on that date fondly and Valtor can be swayed into admitting it went quite well considering the circumstances when she reminds him about after the wheel when they were warming up.

That’s about it... Nine points for the 9th... of June. (I have connected the dots. XD)

#winx club #winx griffin #winx valtor #griffin x valtor #covenshipping #sparks of life #trivia #trivia tuesday #emalyn sylvane

11 notes · View notes

pbandjesse · 4 years

Text

Jess is texting me and shes super upset because she had now tried to order food 3 times but each time the place calls and there is a reason they cant give her her order. And apparently her landlord caught her oven on fire today so she cant cook at home. I am trying to talk her down but shes really upset. We are so simpler in our meltdowns sometimes. But it is so hard to try to talk her down through text and I hate that she doesnt have someone like James there to ground her. Ugh. I just want my friend to be happy.

It makes me want to be better so I can be there for her though. Like I am very tired and in pain but I am trying to hold off any sad feelings I might have because I need to be there for her.

And today was a good day. I am just tired.

I slept well but I didnt want to get up. Once I did I felt okay. I was annoyed because my stupid toothbrush isnt working right. Which made me leave a couple minutes later then I wanted. Not that it actually matters because no one notices if youre a few minutes late at camp. But still.

I really liked my outfit today. And I used spin pins to put my hair back and that made me feel real cue. I said goodbye to James and headed out. And like I thought no one noticed when I was there a little later. Other people came after me. I felt very. Isolated today. Not for the whole day, but I mostly just wanted to be alone. People seem concerned about it but I just want to spend time with me.

And my chest still hurt. So I talked to the nurse and she said to come by later. But first was check in. Except they didnt need me to walk anyone over to their cabins. Again. Like always. Just let me stay in the arts building you dont even need me!! But I did get a couple kids and walked them up as I was going to the arts shed but they only came with me because I stopped Ellen from walking them up since I was going over there anyway.

After I dropped them off I went to get the art from yesterday. Took that all over to the cabins. I brought the doll eyes for one of the little girls that's stuffie lost an eye yesterday. And then I went to get set up.

I didnt have the YPL student today, she'll be back friday apparently. But thats okay, Like I said I enjoyed my own company today. I had some podcasts to listen to. I set up my projects and chilled for a while.

I did some cleaning. And I waited for my groups. I had 2 groups today, but they were big groups! 13 kids each. Which yes isnt actually big. But its big for camp.

But honestly both groups were great. The first group I did have some behavioral issues with one boy who screamed at me. But they are littles and I just looked and him and I was like "Youre not going to hurt my feelings?" Like he was screaming because he had to wait to use to the bathroom? I cant let you wander away calm down.

But they were still a good group and they did a good job making their stencil arts.

I had a big break in the middle. I went to the nurse and got some ibuprofen. Which I then dropped in the field, didnt notice until I got back to the shed, and had to search for it. But I found it. And it helped a lot.

In my time before lunch I collected materials and made sure I had enough for the thursday groups. I had to go and get a student list which was a whole thing.

And while I waited for that I played Bop It! I hadnt played that in a long long time but I got the high score. It was beat a few times after that today but it was fun in that moment to get the highscore on my first time playing in over a decade.

I had lunch on the porch. Enjoyed talking to other counselors. But soon after that I took a long walk around camp. Went and pet the ponies. Checked on Lani the rat. Still alive. And then back to arts and crafts to wait for my group.

The second group had more issue with the project but they were still great. And their counselor Matt is super helpful. Like he kept asking and I was like Im good! But I appreciate the offers regardless.

I finished up cleaning after the kids headed out. I had like an hour before pick up so I tried to get some of the reclaimed clay I had in the water bucket dried and read to use. But omg. It smells like death. I dont know why but it smells so horrible. I put it between some large pieces of paper and left it out and well see if it improves but this might be a loss. I have plenty of clay for next week so Im not worried but I am frustrated. I washed my hands like 6 times and still struggled to get the terrible smell off.

After I did though I went to offer help with pick up but again they do not need me. So when there was a need to walk a child to the other side of camp I offered my services and then took the bus kids down from there to the office on my way back. I just want to be helpful. It was funny though one of my jobs in walking the kids was to stop them from eating the wineberries on the paths. Like they are basically ripe but they eat them all and then we dont have them for jam making and dying fabrics. I want to try these berries though. Maybe that will be an experiment tomorrow.

I headed home after that. Was really glad to be back here. It felt like a longer drive than normal. And more and more cars are on the road and I hate that. But I got back in one piece. And Mr Will was painting in the foyer. It was nice to see him. He fixed the broken part of the roof which was nice. I joked with him for a minute. Then I saw I had some packages and was excited about that.

I went upstairs. Had a snack. Opened my packages. One was my causebox and I know they had some issues because of the pandemic so while it wasnt the best box, it is still a good one. I got a fancy facial brush thing. And honestly it made my skin feel so soft when I used it to wash my face. Awesome.

I played animal crossing for a little. I painted my nails. And now I am just laying here hoping Jess is okay and wishing James was home.

Tomorrow is my day without classes. I have some stuff to do for this week and next. And then I might do some planning for future weeks. Because projects are supposed to start repeating but I am not 100% sure how Im doing that. So I will try to work through that and get supplies. Well see.

I hope you all have a nice night tonight. Sleep good.

3 notes · View notes

howtolistentomusic · 4 years

Photo

There's a radio sitting atop a pile of boxes. I grab it and hand it over to Carlos. He sets the device on the edge of the container and pushes the power button. We're greeted with a burst of static. He fiddles with the tuner until he stumbles upon "Wicked" by Future.

"Aw yeah!" he says as he turns the volume way up. "Some real music! Anthony, take notes!"

"I'm insulted by the implication that I don't listen to hip-hop."

"You bump 2Pac between Justin Bieber songs?" David says.

"Hell yeah I do!"

"Guacha!" David says.

Pronounced as if a stressed "ah" sound is added at the end of the English word watch, guacha is a Spanish verb for "look." Informally, though, it means something more like I approve! It's typically complimentary though it often carries a connotation of surprise that can come off as condescending. Against all odds, David basically said to me, I'm impressed. Welcome to the big boys club.

"2Pac is the greatest rapper of all time," Carlos says.

"Well, I don't know about that."

Don't get me wrong. I genuinely do like 2Pac. I grew up in Southern California, after all. But the GOAT? There's no way. He's a compelling figure for many reasons but too many others can rap circles around him.

"Listen to All Eyez On Me," Carlos says.

"Illmatic is better."

"What the fuck is that?"

It's the classic and hugely influential debut album by Nas, in case you're rooming with Carlos and Patrick Star.

"Life's a bitch and then you die!" Ruben sings.

"That's why we get high! 'Cause you never know when you're gonna go!"

"Damn, Ant!" David says. "Who would have thought?"

It's unclear whether he recognizes "Life's a Bitch", Illmatic's track three stunner, or if he's simply surprised that I made a weed reference.

"What else are you bumping?" David asks.

"Wu-Tang. Souls of Mischief. Big L—"

"The Based God?" Carlos says. "He fucking sucks!"

"That's Lil B, dumbass."

Dude doesn't know Big L from Lil B and he's never heard Illmatic. And yet here he is, trying to lecture me about hip-hop. Get the fuck out of here.

"Whatever. You're fucking old," Carlos says.

Touché. But I'm trying to keep up. I'm certainly on the Playboi Carti and Lil Uzi Vert bandwagons. "wokeuplikethis*" and "XO Tour Lif3" are great. I have a hard time understanding the appeal of Migos though.

Carlos grabs some bags from the edge of the container. When he turns to dump them into the proper gaylords, I glance at the radio. It's beckoning like a glowing pickup in a video game. I can't resist. Being cool is overrated anyways.

I tune to Live 105.5. "Good For You" by Selena Gomez is playing.

"Hell yes!" I say.

My coworkers laugh.

"Of course you would listen to this bullshit!" Carlos says.

Bullshit? Ok, I get it. So it's totally cool to want to fuck Selena Gomez. It's totally cool to mime and graphically detail the sexual acts you'd perform on her if given the chance, as a few of the guys did a while back when a Spring Breakers DVD came through the warehouse. Respecting the art she creates, though? Nah. Too much.

"Wanna show you how proud I am to be yours," I sing. "Leave this dress a mess on the floor!"

Two yeas ago one of my favorite music writers, Katherine St. Asaph, wrote some brilliant work inspired by "Good for You". Her Singles Jukebox blurb, in which she rates the song a 9 out of 10, is a masterpiece. And in a review of Revival for Time Magazine, she vividly wrote that the song "makes looking good for her man sound like searing a part of herself dead." Despite such a convincing case for the song's merits, however, I can't bring myself to like "Good For You" all that much. It's boring and rote and I totally prefer "Hands to Myself". In a place like this, though, I'll fucking take it. After all, remaining myself while simultaneously playing "dude" well enough to avoid ostracization by my coworkers is a balance I struggle with every time I step foot into this warehouse, so it feels really good to fill the room with a piece of my world for once while these fuckers are forced to deal with it.

"I just wanna look good for ya, good for ya," I sing. "Uh huh."

"Alright," Carlos says as the song winds down. "It's over."

He tunes the radio back to hip-hop just as Anna screams "Break!"

"Fuck," Carlos says as he turns off the device. ***

As usual, I beat the entire crew back to the dock. I hop into the container, turn on the radio and adjust the station.

"Reck a less bee hayve YA ah!" the radio pronounces.

Zayn Malick! Totally over One Direction, rhyming.

"Turn that shit up!" Donald says as the guys finally find their way back to roll-off. "This is my jam!"

"Let's start a boy band, Donald!" I say.

"I'm down!"

David laughs. Carlos shakes his head.

"I'm seeing the pain, seeing the pleasure," Donald sings. He's not kidding; he genuinely seems to like this song. "Nobody but you, 'body but me, 'body but us, bodies together!"

While I'm thrilled to have a temporary companion in poptimism, I must point out that this song sucks. I wish I could play "Little Black Dress" instead. I wonder what the guys would think of that particular track, which pits a traditional dude's reverence for classic rock against his hatred of boy bands.

"That's your last one," Carlos says as "Pillowtalk" gives way to a commercial.

He tunes back to the hip-hop station. "Hold On, We're Going Home" is playing and I have to stifle a laugh. Be careful what you wish for, I think to myself.

Carlos can't stand Drake. He's told me as much. He's a fucking pussy were his exact words. Of course, he'd be loath to admit that now, when control of the radio is at stake. I decide to stoke the fire.

"'Cause you're a good girl and you know it!'" I sing.

"Why do you like literally the worst shit?" Carlos says.

"I can change the station if you prefer," I say as I reach for the radio.

"Leave it!" he says.

"Yes, daddy!"

As soon as he turns his back, I tune back to pop. Mass groaning ensues as Shawn Mendes goes on about stitches. Carlos, however, is silent. He's standing still as a statue, staring me down.

***

If the warehouse gave out game balls at the end of each shift, Carlos would have more than the rest of roll-off combined. This is despite the fact that the dude is hardly physically intimidating. Indeed, the contrast between his tough guy persona and his tiny 5"2' frame is a gift that keeps on giving. One time, in an exercise designed to lighten the mood after a slog of a safety meeting, management made the entire staff of the warehouse line up on the floor of the line, single-file, tallest on the right and shortest on the left. There were approximately 30 people in the building and only a single woman was standing to the left of Carlos. It took the roll-off team hours to get all the laughter out of our system.

Carlos isn't particularly funny or clever either. While his insults come fast and furiously, they tend to be the predictable nonsense you would expect from someone that still considers "gay" a burn in the year of our Lord 2017. It's the same sort of mockery I've been dealing with my whole life. The words themselves don't really bother me.

But Carlos will wear you down through sheer attrition. His short fuse, gangbanger ethics and the fact that he values his pride over his job give him a willingness to escalate that's difficult to compete with. I once witnessed him empty an entire can of shaving cream onto the face of poor old man Kenneth. He also once swung a bag of hard toys, with all his might, at Donald after the two got into a heated argument. Then there was the time he was in a bad mood and discreetly coated some furniture with that aerosol "snow" stuff—the kind that people use on their windows as a Christmas decoration—in the hopes that some naive rube would ruin their clothes.

So I'm not sure what Naive Rube was thinking in perpetuating this tug-of-war over a stupid radio. Perhaps I felt like I deserved a fucking break. Roll-off already has a radio, after all. Sure, Anna controls the station. But everyone seems fine enough, usually, with the soul and R&B she prefers.

In any case, I'm not in the mood for Carlos' shit today.

***

I place a box of books at the edge of the container, right in front of Carlos.

"Are you just gong to stand there?" I ask.

"Give back the radio, you fucking pussy!" Carlos says. "Nobody wants to hear this pop shit!"

I know, dumbass. That's why this is so much fun.

"Give it back!" he repeats. He swipes for the radio but I grab it and place it out of his reach.

Carlos slices a bag of clothes with his pocketknife.

"I'm going to fuck you up!" he says. "Stupid little bitch! I'm going to fuck you up!"

"Cool story, bro."

"Are you really not gong to give it back?"

I laugh. Look, this entire thing is petty as fuck but the dude's entitlement really is something else.

"Give it back simply because you told me to? I'll pass but thanks."

"I'm going to give you one last chance," he says.

"Oh noes! Make sure you play some Justin Bieber at my funeral."

Carlos is fucking seething. He pulls the still-as-a-statue move again in an attempt to intimidate but roll-off simply functions around him. Nobody else seems to care much about the radio war and that's fine by me. When Carlos finally realizes that his protest isn't going to work, he grabs the box of books and gets back to business. Apollo for the win!

As an alternative kid with a preference for dark clothing and bulky accessories, the sun has long been the bane of my existence. This is especially true as I age, as one of the ways I temper insecurities about my ever-expanding waistline is by burying myself in layers. Today, however, the sun is an unlikely ally in my ongoing struggle against Carlos. It's 100 degrees out, see, and when it's this hot outside the container becomes almost unbearable, the metal walls stubbornly retaining the heat in a way that feels like you're working in a giant oven.

Pushing donations from inside the container is typically a two-person task but nobody else is up for it today. And the emptier it becomes, the safer I seem to be getting from Carlos' antagonism as I place the radio further and further from his reach. For a glorious hour I have the device all to myself. Ariana Grande! Lady Gaga! Hailee Steinfeld! Rihanna! I'm singing along, dancing like a maniac, and feeling pretty damn good. Then I hear a loud crash.

I turn around. Carlos is standing at the foot of the container, a crate of dishes in front of him.

I've seen this before. God forbid there's glass around when Carlos is angry because he'll start chucking it, his aim loose enough for probable deniability but accurate enough to make life hell.

He grabs a plate and throws it my way. It shatters near my feet.

"Calm the fuck down!" I say.

"Give me the radio."

"Come and get it.

Carlos hops into the container. Fuck. Here we go.

Of course, he's not grabbing anything without going through me first. It's too damn empty in here. I step towards him to obstruct his path. We meet in the middle of the container. Our faces are inches apart.

One, Mississippi. Two, Mississippi. Three, Mississippi. Four, Mississippi. Five, Mississippi. Six—

"Fuck this gay ass music," he finally says. Then he turns and walks away. *** A short time later we finish unloading the container. Two hours remain in the workshift but supervisor Stella tells us that we won't be getting more trucks until tomorrow. She assigns the guys to other tasks in the building while I stay behind on the dock to tidy up.

For good measure, I empty the batteries from the radio and throw them in a bin designated for hazardous materials. Then I smash the radio on the floor, throw the pieces in the electronics gaylord, then pull it inside the warehouse.

Give me my damn game ball.

#minwagepop

2 notes · View notes

authorellenmint · 5 years

Text

Jaal x Ryder

After Jaal introduced Ryder to his family, she wants to offer him the same courtesy. Too bad her brother's a giant pillock.

Warm, angaran hands wrapped around Ryder's stomach as she tried to peer deeper into the metal drum. A plorp erupted from the briny depths, but the man behind her didn't seem to much care. Lips trailed gently against her skin starting first at the nape of her neck. The kisses were little more than warm whispers but as he dipped lower, tugging down to create a gap between her uniform's shirt, his teeth grazed against her shoulder.

"Jaal," Ryder clung tighter to the pot, trying to focus and not burn herself or the food. It was damn near impossible as the alien with seemingly no shame kept pushing every button he knew.

"Yes, dearest?" his voice purred behind her ear and there went that leg shaking again.

She could ask him to stop, to let her finish this in time, but it was rare for the Tempest's galley to be empty and rarer for the two to have so much free time alone together. "Could you hand me the basil?"

"Which is this base-ill?" he rolled around the human word on his tongue, which was enough to conjure up memories of what else he could roll with his tongue. Focus here, you've got to get this done or you'll have a lot of awkward questions to answer to.

"The big green leaves," she pointed to one of the first herbs out of cryo. The fact it grew like a weed on Earth helped it to fill in gardens on Eos and Elaaden. She'd swiped a few early ones they'd set up on hydroponics on the Nexus -- there were some perks to being Pathfinder after all.

Jaal placed the basil into her fingers and she worried the leaves a bit before dropping them into the pot. The smell struck her instantly, true basil just like the kind her mother grew in their tiny pots on the Citadel. It was artificial light that gave them life instead of the sun, and a dip in water rations instead of rain, but having that piece of Earth while in space was a welcome touch of home.

"You are smiling, darling one," Jaal said. He was no doubt smiling too.

"I was thinking of home," she twirled the spoon through the red-orange liquid watching her beloved basil sink to the depths. "I mean," Ryder paused and turned to her lover she found in another galaxy, "the Milky Way. This is home."

Jaal's lips twisted up and he pressed a kiss to her palm. "Are you saying that on my account?"

"No," she sighed. His purple mouth drifted higher up her wrist in kisses that were gaining pressure. If he used his teeth again, she was a goner. "Just reminding myself that we have a home. Meridian."

"It is an amazing feat," he broke from torturing her to stare into her eyes. The man couldn't stop singing her praises about discovering this place, as if he wasn't there by her side spitting in the archon's eye right along with her.

"One I couldn't have done alone," Ryder tipped her head back against his shoulder, her eyes closed as she kept stirring the tomato sauce.

His chest, so alien but comforting, wrapped around her back as Jaal whispered. "True, but is that not also the truth of life? Nothing we ever do is alone, we touch the stars and they, in turn, touch and guide us."

A laugh reverberated up her throat, "I never thought I'd be the type to fall for a philosopher."

"Really? What variety of partner did you see yourself with? How did Peebee put it? The lone wolf, whatever that is."

Ryder felt a blush sting her cheeks, but she shook it off. "No, not that. Just, I don't know. Talking shop about the Protheans and what I'd discovered was fun with my fellow scientists but... We aren't a family that sits around waiting for life to happen and it's not easy for people to keep up with."

"Ah, you require someone that's both bold but also considerate." He tipped his chin and those blue marbles for eyes stared through the distance. "I can see why you had to traverse to an entirely new galaxy to find that."

A fresh laugh erupted up her throat and she turned to Jaal with a smile. "You are an amazing find," she whispered, leaning closer. He cupped against her waist steadying her as Ryder lined up for a kiss. Before she touched his lips, she added, "The best I've ever had." When their bare skin made contact, a light charge lifted every hair on her body. It was like goosebumps and butterflies all crashing together at once. And it happened for every light touch. The longer, lingering ones could catch her breath in her throat.

"I adore you, Ryder," Jaal said in his booming voice, "and am grateful that your family is so daring in their endeavors."

Family. Shit! Ryder spun back to find the tomato sauce behaving, but the pot of water was reaching boiling. The oven was little more than a glorified heat lamp inside a box, but the stove could at least get liquids to 100˚C. Reaching over, she snagged up the strands of pasta they were kind enough to extrude for her out at Food Processing. It was a bit too thick to be considered spaghetti but nowhere near enough like anything else.

Cracking the dried batch in half, Ryder plummeted the strands into the boiling water and watched. "I wonder what flour that's made out of," she mused to herself.

"Flower? We are consuming flowers for this meal?"

"No, it's...we take a grain and grind it to a dust. Then use that to form the noodle thanks to water and, probably some other stuff. You're quickly learning us Ryders aren't exactly galactic renowned chefs."

Jaal leaned over, trying to get a whiff of the sauce she should have started an hour earlier. "The Angaran consider food to be a source of life, a gift given between those who create it to those who consume it. We are all trained from a young age in the arts of cooking, same as fighting, or sewing, or showing affection."

She twisted over, fully abandoning her pots to stare at this man. Poet, marksman, resistance fighter, philosopher, engineer, scientist, sewer, and potentially a chef as well? It was as if someone wrote down every winning trait in a mate and then jammed them all inside of this far flung alien. The fact he was incredibly affectionate and had no problems announcing it to any and all kept pushing Ryder into thinking she was still inside Cryo dreaming him up.

"Are you telling me, on top of everything else you can do; the weapons you rebuilt, that star map you made, the vibrating thing you can do with your tongue."

At that Jaal snickered. He never blushed, so Ryder often had to make it up for him -- her cheeks lighting up twice as bright even if she was the one to bring it up. Waving her spatula around, she continued, "And you're also a great cook?"

His hands swept against her jaw, the fused fingers thrumming tighter to the bone as those oceanic eyes darted across her face. Tipping forward, Jaal whispered, "No, I am in fact a terrible cook. I was taught by the mothers, but it simply didn't stick."

Ryder smiled, leaning forward to kiss him as she sighed, "There goes my 'this is all a dream' theory." Turning back to the stove, she eyeballed the spaghetti still drowned in the bubbling pot.

"You considered this a dream?" he returned to wrapping a hand around her stomach, his warm breath drifting closer to her neck.

"Not really," she laughed, "far too many bruises and lacerations for it to all to not be real. Though if you tell me you're some long lost prince I may have to revise that." Ryder dipped the spoon into her tomato sauce and then brought it to her lips. It tasted off. Nothing could compare to her grandmother's cooked fresh off the coast of Sicily every summer. But as she swallowed and tried another taste, the more muddled tomato, basil, and hint of kaerkyn broth flavors warmed her over.

"Here," she cupped her hand under the spoon and directed it to Jaal's lips. Slowly he took a gentle touch of the sauce, his eyes rolling tight as he tasted her attempts at cooking.

"It is..." Jaal blinked a bit, then took another lick of the spoon, "I rather enjoy it. Full of body, with a tartness that stings on the edges."

"That'd be the acid in the tomatoes. I would have cut it down with sugar but it seems Peebee's run off with the entire bag we had. I'd ask why but I fear what the answer would be," Ryder laughed. She spotted her pasta rising to the surface like an ancient monster pursuing a submarine.

Yanking the pot off the stove, she said, "Food's important to humans too. Not all of it, we don't treat say the nutrient bars in our ration packs like anything special...most don't, at least. But this was a dish my grandmother would make."

"Your family," Jaal whispered, his head tilting to the side.

While the pasta drained, Ryder's mind tripped back to that little house in the rolling countryside. They'd chase chickens for days, running through the olive groves the locals owned and, in general, just happy to be off the cramped space station. Even with the Citadel being the creme de la creme of space living, nothing could compete with the freedom of running on dirt and staring across an endless horizon.

"My grandmother would make this for us whenever we visited. Though she used fish sauce, which I'm afraid we aren't going to be making here anytime soon."

"Fish sauce?" Jaal coughed, his eyes wandering over to a trio of bottles as if he feared to catch something floating in it.

"Ah, well, it's when you take fish and then soak them in salt water for...a very long time. Makes everything taste better. She picked up the habit from her mother, who came from a different island. There was nothing my grandma wouldn't add fish sauce too. Scott once asked for chicken nuggets, like the kind they'd put on transit shuttles to shut kids up.

"Instead of thawing some frozen chicken byproduct that was probably five years old at the back of a deep freeze, Gran soaked those chicken tenders in buttermilk, spices, and her go to fish sauce over night before frying them up," Ryder mused to herself. They'd been all of six and of course threw a fit about not getting the frozen ones they expected. She'd give anything to taste her grandma's chicken tenders once again.

Realizing her companion fell silent, Ryder plopped the spaghetti onto a big plate and turned to him, "And I've completely lost you."

He smiled, "The words did not fully translate, but..." Jaal pushed back the hair dusting her cheeks, hiding it behind her ear, "your face lit with happiness as you spoke of your mother's mother. And that is heartwarming to see."

Forgetting she was holding a plate full of spaghetti, Ryder slipped closer to her lover. The plate stuck between them but she leaned across the gap, aching to kiss him. Just as they were about to touch lips, a spark dancing off of Jaal to wake hers alive, the door to the galley sprung open. Ryder's eyes swung up to find her little brother standing awkwardly in the hallway.

"Scott!" she smiled, staggering up and attempting to bury away the blush. He had a bottle in his hands, that he kept patting senselessly while staring at how close his sister drew to an alien. He'd only known of the angaran for a few weeks since waking up, and hadn't really met any since they touched down on Meridian. This was going to be interesting.

"Hey Sis, got your note and..." he lifted his nose in the air and sniffed, "are you making Grandma's sauce?"

"Yup, I thought that..." Ryder shook her head and wiped her hands down her pants. Maybe she should have swiped an apron out of stores the way Vetra suggested. "Let me start over. Scott, this is Jaal."

Scott laughed, but reached over to shake the angaran's hand, "You don't need to get all formal there. We met during the party."

"Yes," Jaal finished shaking hands the human way, then he guided Scott's fist to show him how angaran greeted each other. Like a true Ryder, Scott was more than happy to go along, curious to get it right. "And then later during Peebee and Drack's afterparty."

"You can remember that? I mean any of that?" Scott blinked wildly, fading back to the safety of being just inside the galley.

"A little, if I don't think too hard," Jaal laughed.

Ryder tugged a few plates out of the cupboard and began to divvy out her concoction. "I just thought that it might be good to have a quieter meet and greet, a chance to talk without worrying about Peebee setting her bot to strobe."

"Or your engineer cranking every speaker on the Hyperion so loud it blew out half the relays," Scott added in. "But alright, I get you." He turned to the alien and folded his arms, "So Jaal, what's your story?"

"This may take some time," Jaal's eyes darted over to Ryder who was piling more of the sauce onto the plates.

"Which is why I made food," she shoved the first one into the guest's hands, then the second into Jaal's. "So we can all sit, relax, and talk about things."

"A wise idea, dearest," Jaal sighed, wrapping a hand around her waist while balancing the plate in the other. She caught Scott's eyes bulging a moment at the public affection and Ryder winced. The crew was getting used to Jaal's open everything and so was she. Others however...

Shaking it off quickly, Scott threw on a smile, "I don't know about you two, but I'm starving to eat anything that's not hospital jello."

"Gel-o?" Jaal tilted his head.

"We have much to discuss," Scott laughed, the three settling in to trade backstories while shoveling food into their faces.

It went well at first, Jaal forced to once again explain angaran culture to some alien fresh off the boat. Ryder wondered if he ever grew tired of it, but the way his wondrous eyes sparkled and his hands became animated she suspected it was partially why he volunteered to join her ship that first time. Scott was on his more or less best behavior, asking a few questions and making certain they were all on the up and up.

Taking a pull of the wine he must have scammed off Addison, Scott sighed, "It is so nice to be out of bed, any bed."

"How long until you have leave to get out into the field?" Ryder asked.

"What? Don't tell me you miss me already?"

She reached across the table to lightly slug her brother in the arm. Scott winced at the soft jab, furiously rubbing it. Glancing down, Ryder admitted, "You know I do. Losing Dad was..."

"Yeah," he blinked a moment. "But, look at all you got up to without him."

"Wasn't that how we usually worked? Hard to be trapped in someone's shadow when you never see the one casting it."

They stared at each other a moment across the table, neither having the time to process what losing their distant father meant. Neither wanting to. It was heartbreaking, but also numb, not the same as their mother. Which...God, she didn't know what to think about that mess. Hope. Life. Ryder's head hung down in exhaustion and she felt Jaal's hand skim against her shoulder. Glancing over, she smiled at the man who'd been watching the sibling reunion carefully.

"So," Scott shifted up from his seat, "how did you two meet?"

"Her ship crash landed on my planet and my people agreed to assist these aliens rather than destroy them," Jaal summed up.

"Though you could have always killed me in my sleep," Ryder jabbed back, remembering well his half hearted threat upon their first meeting. She paused and smiled, "It's probably a lot easier now, too." Jaal skimmed his forehead against hers, the magenta ridges upon the top cresting past her skin. It was strangely soothing.

"Yeah, I meant the other part. You two being a...together thing." Scott shifted higher and then scoffed, "Out of the two of us, I thought it was going to be me who seduced an Andromeda alien."

Ryder snorted, "With what skill?"

"I've been told I'm rather debonair, thank you very much."

"Asari dancers looking for a bigger tip don't count," she cut back with and her brother glared.

Scott looked about to list his better attributes, which she could chop down without trying, but his eyes swung to Jaal instead. "Me? What about your past, oh charming as chalk sister of mine. Wait until I tell your boyfriend? Is that what you're going with?"

"I...uh," she caught his marble eyes and faltered. It wasn't wrong, but it didn't feel right either. Maybe the angara had a better term. English kinda crapped out once you got past the age of 30 when it came to love.

Jaal scooped up her hands and smiled, "Dearest is what I call her."

"Okay, well, Sister's Dearest, you want to know about the time she stuffed an entire wad of cotton up her nose?"

"Scott!" Ryder launched forward, trying to catch her good for nothing brother but he dodged fast from her grasp.

"We had no idea she did it until there's my sister with her head snapping forward in a sneeze..."

Ryder scrambled further over the table, almost snagging onto his collar to get him to stop, but Scott weaved again, his eyes never breaking off of Jaal's. "A spray of snot and cotton coats the teacher's desk. This prissy old Turian lady just taps her mandibles and says...and says..."

He was having trouble speaking because Ryder managed to hook her arm around his neck in order to try and catch him in a headlock. Scott bent lower, his face turning bright red from the strain. How often on the Citadel did she have to do the same damn thing to him? It was a wonder her little shit of a brother ever survived long enough to get out to Androma. Wiggling like a fat cat trying to sneak in through a too tight pet door, Scott's ear snagged on Ryder's arm and he popped up.

"She says, 'Young Lady, our nose is not a storage device.'"

"I swear to god, I am going to kill you," Ryder threatened, leaping towards her brother. He deftly dodged her grip but missed a biotic yank that twisted him in his seat. Collapsing his palms together, Scott wrapped his elbow around Ryder's neck and then pulled her deeper into his armpit.

Crap! She could send him flying up to the ceiling, or shatter the bones in his body with her shockwave, but... Giving in, Ryder stopped squirming in order to wrap her arms around her little brother in a half hug. "I'm glad you're back," she whispered.

It took Scott a moment to release his death grip, afraid she was trying to pull some sneaky move, but Ryder meant it. They'd never been a close-knit family, even the twins fading away as she took to traversing Prothean dig sites while he was assigned to the relays. Traveling to a new galaxy, watching Dad die in front of her, Ryder clung to what little she had left. Her eyes glanced over at Jaal. How much more could she add to her family? She felt a flush rising in her cheeks at the thought. The openly emotional angarans were really rubbing off on her.

Shoving away her brother, Ryder rose up and tried to adjust her hair back into something other than angry squirrel. Scott nudged into her side with his elbow and he smiled, "I'm glad you survived all of this too, Sis. It'd be a lot emptier here without you."

A soft laugh rolled through Jaal's throat, his lips fluttering while the eyes shut tight. Ryder slid closer, returning to her seat, but she couldn't stop wafting a question at him. "I understand now," he smiled, beaming at her while snuggling closer, "you wished to not only show me your family, but invite me into it."

Ryder blinked. Was that what she was doing?

Dangerous guffaws echoed from Scott and he slapped the table. "So that's why you picked Grandma's secret pasta sauce recipe. Shit, Sis, if I knew you moved that fast I'd have told Mom to stop worrying about getting grandkids off of me."

"What?" she turned on her brother, thoroughly lost.

"Dad never told you? He made that for Mom the night he proposed."

"That wasn't..." she whipped her head over to Jaal who looked unaware but growing more curious by the second, "I didn't mean to... I hate you, Scott." Ryder jabbed her hand as if she would slice out her brother's ungrateful heart.

"Yeah, yeah," he wiped her finger away and then leaned back in his chair as if the matter was settled.

Ryder plummeted back into hers, trying to not stare guiltily at the engagement meal she had no idea she created. Beside her, her dearest was leaning closer, no doubt about to ask for clarification. Maybe it'd be best if it came from Lexi, or Cora. Liam would just muddy the waters, or be excited by the idea because then he could throw an angaran bachelor party. Ah shit.

Doing her best to not stare death at the plate of leftover food, she lightened when Jaal whispered, "Ryder, thank you for this."

"For forcing you to suffer the excruciating company of my weasel of a brother?" she tried to sound stern, but it slipped into a smile. It warmed her heart to have Scott back and to have the two of them getting to know each other and perhaps bonding.

"I adore any opportunity to know more of you, and those who've touched your life," Jaal said full of sincerity.

"So," Scott sat forward, "what we have here is a galaxy, an entirely new one with five outposts ready for colonizing."

"Yup," Ryder smiled, her hand entwining with Jaal's, the alien that helped them get to this point. "So much to discover it makes my head spin."

"I guess I've just got one question for you, Sis," Scott inched up, a mischievous grin filling his face. "Is Eos a wedding in spring kind of place, or are you holding out hope for Kadara by summer?"

"You little..." Ryder whacked her brother in the face with a handful of cold spaghetti. Even as it dripped, leaving orange stains in its wake, Scott couldn't stop laughing and neither could she.

#jaal x ryder #mass effect andromeda #fic #short fic #sharing

87 notes · View notes