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snelbz · 3 years ago

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Tempting the Fates {Chapter 1}

Summary: It’s the final semester of Aelin Galathynius’ collegiate career and she is so beyond ready to be done. Her schedule is packed full of nursing classes and labs designed to test her knowledge and hone her skills for the real world and her “big girl” job. However, she needs one last elective to graduate, so she decides to study a subject she’s always been fascinated by: Mythology. Who would have thought that a class about gods and goddesses living complicated lives would end up complicating her own in such an unexpected way?

A/N: Fun fact about this one, y’all. I wrote the first chapter over 3 years ago and it was for a completely different story. This one has evolved on it's own and Tara and I are so excited to finally share it with you.

Word Count: 3493

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday.

Tempting the Fates Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Zeus

– King of the gods and ruler of Mount Olympus; god of the sky, lightning, thunder and law.

The waves lapped against the sand as Aelin sighed. Strong hands rubbed the muscles in her back and worked out the kinks in her neck as the warm sun heated her body. The smell of the salt water filled her senses and she settled into the cushioned chaise. Another set of hands set a fruity looking drink with a little pink umbrella on the table next to her head. She smiled at it.

“Can we get you anything else, miss?”

Aelin opened her mouth to tell them exactly what they could do to her.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Aelin’s eyes snapped open and she glared at her phone, chiming at her to get up.

She groaned, reaching for the offending device and silenced it, pulling her pillow over her head. She began to doze back off when her bedroom door flew open, smacking into the dresser on the wall behind it. She sat bolt upright and found her roommate leaning against the doorframe, a bowl of cereal in her hands and a gleam of mischief in her emerald eyes.

“Rise and shine, princess,” Lysandra drawled. Aelin just continued to scowl at her roommate. The bright warmth of the sun in her dream faded away as she looked out the window. Ice coated it and she could see a fresh layer of snow coated everything. “Aedion is about to be up, too. If you’d like any chance of taking a warm shower before class today, I’d suggest-.”

She was up and in the hallway before Lysandra could even finish her sentence.

Thirty minutes later, she sat on the kitchen counter, hair wrapped up in a towel, eating an apple and going over her schedule for the thousandth time. Her four classes were split into two days each, mercifully giving her Friday off.

Her cousin, long golden hair tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, came into the kitchen, pulling the jug of milk out of the fridge. He leaned on the counter across from her and drank straight from the plastic bottle, glaring daggers at her.

“Can I help you with something,” she asked him sweetly.

“You used the last of the hot water,” Aedion sulked, taking another swig.

She looked over, blowing him a quick kiss. “Maybe you should have gotten up earlier.”

He rolled his eyes, identical to her own, and came over to look at her computer screen. “What classes do you have this semester?”

She scrolled down the list, reading them off. “Pathophysiology, Caring for the Childbearing Family, Health and Gerontology, a few labs, and Mythology.”

Aedion’s eyebrows pulled together as she read the last one. “That doesn’t seem like it will be very helpful to a nurse.”

She shrugged, closing the laptop and sliding off the counter. “I needed one last elective. I’ve always been interested in Greek and Roman mythology and it’s a freshman level class. I figured why not study something for fun for once?”

He couldn’t fault her logic and began pulling ingredients out of the fridge to cook breakfast as Aelin headed back towards her bedroom. “Whatever you’re cooking, make two,” she called over her shoulder. She didn’t even need to look back to know the obscene gesture being flicked in her direction.

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Aelin was regretting studying something fun for once as she looked at the map of her classes.

All of her classes, save for one, were in the nursing building. Of course, that one other class was all the way across campus, in one of the general education buildings. At least walking there would take her right past her favorite coffee shop on campus and with an eight am every Tuesday and Thursday morning, she knew she’d take full advantage of that.

Thankfully today was a Monday, so she’d be spending the entirety of her day in the nursing building. But first, she had to have coffee. The first day of the semester required coffee.

Aelin parked in one of the student lots close to the nursing building. Throwing her leather bag over her shoulder, she slammed her car door. It was absolutely freezing and she suppressed a growl as she saw soft white flakes drifting toward the ground.

What a great way to start off the semester, she thought.

She made her way across campus, hands deep in her pockets and face buried in her scarf. As she crossed the quad, she pulled her phone out to check the time. She still had about twenty minutes to get coffee and get to class. Snow crunched under her boots as she picked up the pace, wanting to be sure she made it on time. Aelin was big on first impressions.

As she approached the door of the café, she reached for the handle, but the door swung open suddenly, slamming into her and knocking her off her feet.

The young girl, eyes wide, apologized profusely but said that she had to get to class and ran off. Aelin was mumbling something about where the freshman could go, when she heard a deep chuckle and a tan, tattooed hand appeared in front of her face. She glanced up and the air was pulled from her lungs.

The owner of the hand was a handsome man in his mid-twenties, with hair the color of the snow swirling around his head and green eyes. Not emerald like Lysandra’s, but deep and rich like a pine tree. A tattoo, similar to the one on his hand, snaked up his neck and onto his face. She’d be willing to bet it ran down the whole length of his arm. She’d love to find out for herself. He smiled at her, a wicked, beautiful smile. She could only stare at the gorgeous stranger as she gripped her hand in his. He lifted her to her feet.

“You okay?” He asked. Aelin nodded, pulling her hand out of his. He opened the door and motioned for her to go ahead of him. She stepped into the delicious warmth and immediately got her wits back.

“I’m Aelin,” she said, giving him a man eater’s smile.

“Rowan,” he said, a slight incline of his head in acknowledgment.

“Thank you, Rowan,” she said, letting his name slip out of her lips like a purr, as she’d heard Lysandra do it to her cousin many times. She knew it drove Aedion crazy and for some reason, that’s exactly what she wanted to do to this man. She walked to the line. He got in line behind her and she pulled out her phone, figuring that would be that. A bit of shameless flirting with a stranger was never a bad thing. She ordered her coffee and was surprised when the barista handed her the paper cup, a phone number written on the side. She quirked an eyebrow at the girl, who gave Aelin a knowing glance and looked over her shoulder. Aelin turned around, meeting a pine green gaze, and smiled at him. She headed back out into the frost and snow, pulling her phone out to snap a picture of the cup to send to Lysandra, knowing her best friend would love this.

Finding the classroom in the nursing building where she’d spent the bulk of the past two years was a breeze and she made it into the classroom with seven minutes to spare. She enjoyed her time with Professor Hafiza in the fall and anticipated she’d like her this semester again, too. Nonetheless, she settled in about three-quarters of the way up and looked at the coffee cup again.

Feeling bold, she entered the number into her phone and sent a quick text.

Any chance you want to sweep me off of my feet again and grab drinks later? I’m free anytime after 5:00. – Aelin.

Her phone buzzed almost immediately.

My last class lets out at 6:00 and I have to go to the gym afterward. How does 8:00 sound?

She typed a quick reply and placed her phone back on her desk.

Sounds like a date. The Beer Cellar, on Church Street.

She smirked to herself and glanced down at her watch. 9:58. Not even 10:00 am and the semester was off to a great start.

She unlocked her phone, shooting a quick text to Lysandra, letting her know about her new plans for the evening when she heard the door open and students started to hush.

It wasn’t the most exciting class, Aelin had to admit, but she supposed the information was necessary. Hopefully it wasn’t an indication of how the rest of her semester would go. She needed a little excitement in her schedule, that was for sure.

Aelin liked to be kept on her toes.

After two classes and a crappy salad for lunch from the school cafeteria, Aelin was hurrying across campus and down the street, toward her apartment. Lysandra was nowhere to be found, which meant she was either snuggled up with Aedion somewhere or still in class. Aelin’s bet was on the former.

After organizing her deskspace, Aelin went to her closet, and attempted to pick out what she should wear for the night. It was her first date of the semester, which either meant that it could be a complete win or a complete fail.

She ultimately decided that the sluttier the better.

Laying the gold dress out on her bed, she let herself into the Lysandra’s room, borrowing a pair of strappy black heels she knew her roommate would absolutely approve of and was back out the door, ready to suffer through her first lab of the semester. Three hours was going to drag by, but thankfully, it was only once a week.

And drag by it did, but Aelin wasn’t sure if it was thanks to the monotonous recap of her previous semester’s information or thinking about seeing Rowan again. She usually wasn’t so forward, even though Rowan had clearly been the one to start it all, giving her his number. But still, she typically would have at least waited a day or two before texting him.

But there was just something about him that she couldn’t get out of her head.

She grabbed her gym bag out of the car, thankful she had a bit of time to get a work out in before she went out. Thanks to tonight, Aelin was a pent up ball of energy and needed to get it out someway. After a solid forty-five minutes on the treadmill and nearly thirty on the free weights, Aelin was heading for the locker room when she noticed a silver head of hair across the gym.

She watched him as he pulled himself up on the bar, his chin going over the piece of metal each time. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, sweat poured down his chest as his arms swelled. Aelin had been right.

That tattoo went across his chest, and all the way down his arm. He did the pull-ups so effortlessly, and Aelin’s mind began to wander to unholy places.

It wasn’t until his feet hit the mat beneath him that she was brought back to reality and hurried into the locker room. If he was here, that meant their date was approaching, and she had to get ready. She checked her phone. It was nearly seven.

Aelin hurried back home and showered. She had once vowed, during her freshman year, that she would avoid the gym showers at all costs and only used them under emergency circumstances. Luckily, her and Lysandra’s apartment was only five minutes from the gym.

After a shower and a full-body shaving session, Aelin was brushing out her long, golden hair and blow drying it until it was flowing freely down her back. She kept her makeup decently simple - at least, that’s how she made it look, and straightened the slight waves out of her hair before putting on her little, golden dress.

Once she had slipped on Lysandra’s heels, she was looking at herself in the mirror and even she had to admit that she was looking hot.

After grabbing her clutch, she hurried down the hallway and into the living room, where she found Lysandra and Aedion snuggled together on the couch, watching a movie.

“Going out with a stranger?” Lysandra asked, brow raised. “I'm so proud of you.”

“Yeah, just keep it in your pants,” Aedion mumbled.

“I thought I’d bring him back here,” she said, winking at Lysandra. “You don’t want to have breakfast together tomorrow?”

“Absolutely not,” Aedion mumbled and Lysandra chuckled, leaning into his embrace.

“Have fun, call me if you need me,” Lysandra called as Aelin blew them a kiss and headed for the door.

Her Uber was waiting when she walked out front and before she knew it, she was walking down the stairs into her favorite bar. Glancing around, she didn’t see Rowan sitting at the bar or any of the booths around the room.

So she bought herself a drink and claimed one of the pool tables, setting her coat and clutch on a bar stool nearby. Over halfway through the game, she felt eyes on her and glanced up to find Rowan standing at the other end of the table. Giving him a smirk, she knocked the cue ball into the yellow-striped 9 ball. It sank into the pocket.

“Playing with yourself?” Rowan asked, and Aelin caught a slight accent that she had missed earlier.

Aelin’s grin widened. “Well, if I’m left hanging, a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do.”

Rowan breathed a laugh. “Fair enough. And if I asked to join?”

“You sure you don’t just want to watch?” she asked, leaning on the table, making sure her cleavage was perfectly visible.

Rowan’s tongue shot out and subtly licked his bottom lip. “Tempting.”

Aelin pushed herself back and grabbed the rack, starting to collect the balls. “Buy me a drink and then we’ll talk.”

Rowan bit his lip to hide his spreading grin. “Fair enough. I’ll be back.”

Aelin watched as he left, watched as he went to the bar and bought her another drink, alongside one for himself. He came back with two glasses. One was the color of the sunrise, the other a caramelly brown.

“Sex on the Beach?” Aelin asked, brow raised.

He shrugged and handed her the glass. “Sounded promising.”

“So… Rowan,” she said, letting his name drag out as she said it. He was dressed in a pair of dark jeans and the black Henley he wore made his hair seem even brighter in the dim light of the bar.

“Aelin,” he purred right back, pulling a pool stick from the wall behind her, nearly boxing her in. She realized then how much larger than her he was.

She loved it.

“I hope your coffee helped you get through the rest of your day,” she said, resetting the game and racking the balls. She glanced at him over her shoulder as she reached into the middle of the table, and he was watching her, staring at her ass.

Slutty was definitely the right option tonight.

“It certainly did, especially considering how boring it was,” he replied, reaching around her for the chalk that rested on the edge of the table. “But when I got your text, it gave me something to look forward to. Even if it made the day last twice as long.”

“Happy I could help.” She picked her drink up and stirred it, before taking a long sip through the straw.

“Would you like to break, or should I?” He asked, nodding to the pool table.

“Let’s see what you can do.”

He grunted as he stepped forward, lined up his stick, and knocked the cue ball into the others. They broke apart, but none of them fell into the pockets. Rowan stood there for a moment, his lips pursed. Meanwhile, Aelin tossed her head back and burst into laughter.

“Alright, alright,” Rowan said, straightening up and turning to face her. “So pool isn’t my thing.”

Aelin stepped up next to him and aimed her stick, leaning over the table, her ass nearly rubbed up against Rowan’s front. “Hopefully you’re better at other things.”

Rowan’s hand brushed along Aelin’s hip, just as she got ready to shoot, causing her shot to go haywire. She spun around, eyes narrowed. “That’s foul play.”

“No one said we were playing fair,” he countered.

“What about playing for drinks?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

He lifted his own eyebrows and he said, “I’ve got an eight am…”

Shrugging, she said, “So do I.” Then she leaned in close, thankful for the three-inch heels she’d pilfered from Lysandra’s closet and breathed into his ear, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re up in time.”

“So sure of how this night is going to go,” he said quietly, just loud enough for her to hear him, and she felt his hand skimming over the curve of her ass. “Fine. We’ll play for drinks.”

It turned out Rowan hadn’t been lying about pool not being his thing. They played three games back to back, and he lost them all, but every time he returned with a drink for Aelin, he had one for himself as well. By the time she dragged him towards the small dance floor in the center of the bar, they were both stumbling and his lips found her neck before his hands even gripped her hips.

His lips were soft, gentle, nothing like she had expected. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe he was just getting tired, perhaps he was usually rough.

But, when his hands found Aelin’s hips and he brought her back into him, she felt that roughness. It seemed Rowan was the best of both worlds. Gentle when prompted, rough beneath the surface.

Aelin turned to him and slung her arms around his neck, bringing his lips to hers. Their mouths crashed into one another, and their bodies slowed until it felt like they were the only two on the dancefloor.

Rowan pulled away, just a little bit, and breathed, his eyes wild, “Aelin-.”

“Take me to your place,” she said, her mouth finding his, once again.

Before she knew what was happening, they were in the backseat of an Uber, unable to keep their hands off of one another. Thanks to it being a college town, the driver didn’t say a word, just dropped them in front of an upscale building, just off the east side of campus.

She noticed how nice it was on the short elevator ride up, but was much more preoccupied by the way his hips pressed into hers. He dragged her along the hall, his lips never leaving hers, until her back was pressed against a cool door and he was fumbling to get it unlocked. It swung wide and she gripped his collar, pulling him inside.

Throwing her clutch and coat by the door, Aelin let her hands dive into his cropped silver hair and he responded by cupping her ass and lifting her up. Her legs were around his waist and he carried her through the apartment and into his bedroom. Neither of them had any delusions about how and where this would end and Aelin felt like she was going to combust as he dropped her on the bed and gazed down at her.

His eyes were full of lust, full of hunger, a wild animal with his eye on his prey. He wasted no time stripping Aelin down and admiring her body with his hands, his tongue, his lips. Rowan may not have been good at pool, but he was right when he said he was far better at other things.

He worshipped her, and Aelin knew it wasn’t the alcohol when she was sent into utter bliss.

When he rolled off of her, breath still uneven, Aelin watched as he dealt with the condom and fell back into the bed beside her.

She cleared her throat. “I can go…if you want me to.”

Rowan turned to look at her, and she could tell he was still just as drunk as she was. “What? No, of course not. You said you’ve got an eight am, too, right?” She nodded and he tugged on her hand, pulling her closer to him. They were both still gloriously naked and she could feel the heat radiating off of his body. “Then we can both make sure the other is up so we aren’t late. Or too hungover.”

Aelin snorted softly, resting her head on his chest. “I think that particular ship has sailed.”

“You’re probably right,” he mumbled and she could tell he was already starting to doze. She was on the brink of sleep herself.

Aelin decided then, as her eyes closed, that she didn’t care if she was hungover in the morning, or if she was late to her eight am. A night being praised by Rowan had been perfectly worth it.

#tempting the fates #snacmc ttf #snacmc collab #rowaelin ttf #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius

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adorethedistance · 4 years ago

Text

Party Hard - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: drinking, partying, intoxication, non sexual stripping, swearing probably,

Words: 6343 (which, if you know me, is a FUCK ton)

Summary: Going from tipsy to full on drunk is a terrible idea, but especially when you’ve got a secret to hide that could mean the difference between preserving and ruining your relationship with your best friend.

A/N: A couple items before we get started: I think I’m back on my bullshit? I mean I wrote this fic and it’s three times the length of my normal fics. Also I wrote this headassery as a literal self insert me(ace) x someone and so there are a couple flaws here and there that make this something I’m not 100% proud of. Owen picks the reader up a few times and I’m aware this kind of thing can really effect someone’s experience with this fic so I do apologize for the lack of inclusivity in regards to body type/ableism. I’m falling really behind on school work because I just can’t find the motivation which either means y’all will be seeing a lot more of me soon or absolutely nothing at all. Not sure which yet.

“You’ve got it so bad.” Charlie rests his left arm on his best friend’s shoulder, tipping back the half-full angry orchard bottle he’d been nursing for the better half of an hour. Owen’s stare is immediately broken and he crosses his arms defensively.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” Turning to meet his friend’s smug stare, Owen shoots Charlie a glare of annoyance before returning his attention to the girl on the dance floor. Surrounded by a gaggle of her closest friends, Y/n is dancing and singing her heart out to Fergalicious with Chelsea, Leila, Savannah, and Carolynn. The bunch of them share in sporadic laughs as they exchange ridiculous dance moves just to add to the fleeting moment’s laughter. An assortment of screeches and squawks blend together as they all prepare to sing the rap section of the song. Observing the level of excitement the girls have over the verse, Owen can’t help but laugh at the spectacle.

“Why don’t you just ask her out already?” Charlie inquires between sips of his cold drink.

“What?”

“Y/n. Why have you not asked her out.”

“We’re just friends.”

“Yeah. Because you haven’t asked her out.” Owen rolls his eyes before turning 90 degrees to fully face the smug guitarist. He turns about-face to prove a point, but another symphony of squeals at the next song choice drags his attention back to his other best friend on the dance floor. “You’re so whipped.”

“Am not.”

“Are too! Look, if you don’t ask her out tonight, I will.”

“You’re not even into her,” Owen protests unceremoniously. Setting the molasses colored bottle on the counter next to Owen, Charlie steps back and copies his position of crossed arms and a relaxed stance.

“You’re right, I’m not. But you are, and if that’s what it takes to light the fire under your ass then I’ll do it.”

“She wouldn’t say yes.”

“Are you sure? I mean, the only way to know for sure is to ask.” And with that, Charlie is off, speeding toward Y/n at a pace that launches Owen into an impulsive chase. To prevent his friend from doing something stupid, Owen shoves him in the opposite direction from the group of girls on the dance floor. What he hadn’t anticipated was Charlie moving so far so fast. Owen has longer legs, he’s supposed to be the faster one, not Charlie. That’s why he hadn’t anticipated turning away from his musical friend to come face to face with a very flushed Y/n. Her lip-gloss coated lips are parted as she catches her breath from all the dancing. They look so soft and inviting that Owen can’t help but stare, and doesn’t realize the several looks of confusion among the girls around him.

“Everything okay, Owen?” Snapping out of his hyper focused stare, Owen blinks a few times, trying to generate a reason for coming over.

“You’ve been dancing for a while.”

“...Yeah?”

“Let me fix you a drink?” His statement comes out as more of a question but the breathless girl agrees nonetheless. Owen extends his hand to her which she gladly accepts but not without a quick word to her friends.

“I’ll be right back, I’m getting a drink.”

Her friends aren’t stupid, quite the opposite actually. And they see right through Owen’s facade of fixing her a drink because she’d been ‘dancing a while’. Please. As if they didn’t know a desperate attempt at flirting when they saw it.

The pounding music from the backyard begins to fade and muffle once the pair step into the Shada’s beautiful kitchen space. Owen leads her to the kitchen island where he has her take a seat on one of the barstools in front of the high countertop. Stepping around the fixture, Owen busies himself with whipping up a drink for Y/n at the makeshift bar on the island. He doesn’t even have to ask what it is she wants. Ice, pink whitney, club soda, and a splash of lime juice mixed together in a red solo cup Owen had considerately written her name on before going all mixologist-mode.

“Your usual.”

“Thank you, sir. You know, I’ve only had a handful of barbecue chips since I got here, and I’m already tipsy, so this actually might get me completely drunk.” Taking a sip, Y/n hums out of pleasure, “Why do you make my favorite drink better than I make my favorite drink?”

“So you have a reason to keep me around.” At the sound of Y/n’s laugh, Owen cracks a smile in time with his favorite sound in the world. The blonde haired man leans forward to rest his weight on his left forearm. He stares at her with adoration seeping from his gaze, before lifting his own cup to drink with her.

“What is that?” she asks, sitting up taller to try and see into Owen’s cup over the island.

“Jack Daniels.”

“I want some.”

“No,” Owen answers swiftly albeit softly. Y/n, however, is not feeling as conciliatory.

“No?”

“Have you ever tried whiskey before?”

“Well, no-”

“You’re drinking a fruit flavored cocktail that’s like 30% nonalcoholic. A sip of this would knock you off your little ass.” Y/n frowns at his words and employs a fake pout of anger to guilt her now laughing friend. Despite her smile, she whines,

“You suck.” Owen merely shrugs unapologetically before sipping and wincing at his drink of choice. “So… how did your date go- with Amy?” And there it is. The question that’s been at the forefront of Y/n’s mind for the last 24 hours.

Owen met this girl Amy at a more professional house party type of event and they hit it off right away. They spent the night invested in conversation, sharing in a cacophony of laughter. Y/n had no right to be upset, but she was. Amy was drop dead gorgeous in that Mini length red, velvet dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her figure was snatched to the gods, and she was about 5’3”; a seemingly irrelevant thing to notice, but Y/n knew that was the height Owen loved in a partner. At least, based on all his previous flings. And not to mention, her beautiful golden blonde hair that extended all the way down her toned back. Amy was perfect to all standards including that of any straight man with eyes and undoubtedly Owen’s. They spent the entire night together, Y/n long forgotten despite having been Owen’s plus one.

Y/n on the other hand didn’t exactly view herself as the drop-dead gorgeous supermodel type. Seeing how Owen took an interest in her at that event, it was no wonder Y/n was jealous. In fact, she had been so jealous that she allowed their flirting to ruin her entire evening.

She had been invited platonically as Owen’s guest, but Owen didn’t feel guilty about leaving her alone once he saw Charlie was by her side the whole night. Little did he know Charlie was only there for her because Owen wasn’t. It was pity company. Pity company that she was grateful to have as she cried into a few gin and tonics. Y/n avoided telling Charlie about her feelings for the adorable drummer, but with the way events transpired, he had figured out what it was that had upset her.

Charlie so badly wanted to give Owen the guilt trip of a lifetime. And he did once he and Owen were alone, heading home in Charlie’s orange hatchback car. He did so by telling Owen about how his best friend had spent the entire evening crying into gin and tonics. ‘Y/n doesn’t even like gin and tonic’ was all Owen could come up with.

When he inquired about why his best friend was crying, Charlie said he didn’t know, but it may have had something to do with the fact that the person who invited her spent the whole night ignoring her; he left it at that, leaving Owen to connect the dots, sort of. Owen had come to the realization that Y/n must have been crying over him, but why? Unable to comprehend a reason, he pushed the situation to the back of his mind. So far back that when Amy texted him that same night, he immediately responded and eventually set up a date for them to get dinner alone Friday evening.

The date was fine. Objectively there was nothing wrong with it. But every time Amy took a sip of the gin and tonic she had ordered, he couldn’t help being reminded of Y/n that night. It took Owen a solid thirty minutes to finally conclude that maybe Y/n was... jealous? Of what? Of Amy? Quickly reviewing a long list of qualities, identical to the one that Y/n had thoroughly checked through when she first saw the blonde, Owen realized she was indeed jealous of Amy. But why? What did Amy have that Y/n didn’t?

Oh.

His initial conclusion in the car with Charlie had to be right. Y/n was crying over him, and seemingly jealous of Amy, all because Amy had his attention. Why was that a problem?

Oh… no. No, Y/n does not have feelings for him. Y/n is... well, Y/n. His best friend, his partner in crime, his confidant, there’s no way she’s in love with him. There’s a different reason as to why she’d been crying into drinks she didn’t like. And that different reason is why her text replies have been short and cold when he had asked for date night conversation pointers. And that different reason is why her smile kept faltering on FaceTime when he was asking for fashion advice for his date.

Y/n is not in love with her best friend.

Owen had spent the past year pushing down his feelings for the girl that threatened to bubble over the top. If Y/n was truly into him, he would’ve acted on them. But she isn’t, so he didn’t. At least, that’s what Owen told himself…

“It was alright,” he offers lamely as a reply to her inquiry. Y/n simply nods and takes another swig of her drink to dull the ache in the center of her chest.

“Just alright?”

“Okay, it was better than alright. She was great.” There’s a hole burning in the center of her heart, and against her better judgment, she expands the deficit by asking for more information.

“What does that mean- that she was ‘great’?”

“You know…” Owen trails off in search of the right words, some words, any words, but nothing comes to him. To sell her nonchalant demeanor, the hopelessly devoted girl is staring down into her cup as if it’s the most interesting thing in the room. She didn’t expect Owen’s eyes to be boring into hers when she looked back up, so she quickly musters a polite smile. Maybe the average onlooker couldn’t tell it was fake, but Owen knows something is off. He just knows. Because he knows her.

“How did those conversation pointers pan out?” She’s deflecting, he thinks.

“One of them worked.” I’m just feeding into it, he thinks.

“Only one of them?” He’s holding back something, she thinks.

“Well, yeah. We didn’t really do much talking if you get what I mean.” I don’t think I can handle this, she thinks.

“I see…” The pair stands together in a silence so tense they felt like strangers. It’s awful. Y/n and Owen hate every second of it, but what could they do? In a moment blinded by upset, Y/n reaches across the island to grab the newly opened bottle of grey goose and pours what must’ve been no less than three shots of liquid into her cup. No club soda or lemonade this time, she chugs down the rest of her drink in a flash; Owen stares at her in disbelief and shock.

Y/n hates being drunk, she likes being the designated driver, she’s never had straight up liquor in her life, and she’s a lightweight, that’s for damn sure. Owen knows all of these things and is even more surprised to see her reaching for an almost empty bottle of gin.

“Hey. Maybe you should take it easy, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a lightweight and you know it. Put the cup down.” When Y/n shakes her head no, something in Owen snaps and his desire to be gentle is long forgotten. “Y/n. Put the drink down.”

“Why do you care, Owen?” In taking time to respond, Owen sees the opportunity and goes for it, taking the cup from her loose grasp and splashing it down the drain of the vegetable sink. “What the fuck?!”

“I think you’ve had enough to drink. Come on.” It’s only a matter of time until Y/n becomes an incoherent human being that’s impossible to wrangle, so Owen is very aware he’s on the clock. Snagging two Arrowhead water bottles in one hand, he takes Y/n’s hand in the other and brings her into the Shada’s den. There are only a few other people in the room, one is a couple and the other a pair of pining idiots, to which Owen becomes slightly wary. Not that the dynamic would change much. He and Y/n are practically a couple according to everyone around them.

Chelsea and Charlie are sitting fairly close together for just friends, on the chocolate brown loveseat facing the couch that Owen has plopped his increasingly intoxicated friend onto; Leila is sitting in a single armchair that a very tipsy Taylor is hanging over the back of to hug her shoulders. Upon seeing Y/n’s pouting expression Chelsea seeks more information,

“You good, fam?”

“He threw it down the sink!” She’s fading faster than Owen had hoped.

“I did. I poured what would’ve been her fifth and sixth shots down the sink.”

“Jesus, Y/n, are you trying to kill yourself?”

“What are you, a cop?” Even tipsy she’s still sharp as a tack. If Owen wasn’t frustrated with her at the moment, he would’ve probably laughed. But he is, so he didn’t. Slipping back into caretaker mode, he hands her one of the water bottles he snagged from the cooler on the way out. In her typical stubborn and petulant fashion, Y/n weakly throws the unopened bottle onto the couch cushion next to her. All their friends laugh but Owen isn’t having it.

“Y/n.” And it only takes a firm call of her name for the slumped over lightweight to glare at him but oblige. She retrieves the bottle and sticks her arm out straight toward Owen’s still standing figure.

“I can’t open it.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this fucked up,” Leila comments.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you fucked up period,” Chelsea adds on. Charlie laughs lightly before resuming whatever conversation the four of them had going pre-Owen and Y/n’s entrance.

Satisfied with the small sips she’s taking of her water, Owen relaxes and takes a seat next to her on the couch. The temporary break in her temper tantrum allows Owen to save his breath; he opens his own water bottle, taking a few drinks which ended up being half the bottle. He’s given her a good bit of room on the couch but it isn’t good enough for Y/n. It takes her a few failed attempts to screw on the cap of her water but once it’s properly sealed, she moves closer to her best friend. The water has acted like some magical temperament cure as Y/n’s previously permanent pout has disappeared.

Owen knows he and Y/n are close enough to where cuddling wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. But the way she’s burrowed into his side, picking up his seemingly ‘heavy’ arm to place it around her own inebriated frame, laying her head high up on his chest, and unintentionally resting her hand on his lower abdomen, something feels off. Her hand isn’t dangerously low, but low enough that the side of her limp palm has met the waistband of his jeans. Owen can’t help but feel his skin tingle and burn under her touch. Why is he so affected by her touch all of a sudden?

Owen is pulled from his snowballing thoughts by the sound of Y/n’s muffled voice against his chest. He leans down as far as he can which places his head on top of hers gently.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you don’t need to be sorry,” he whispers just loud enough for her to hear. A tiny drop of warmth on his shirt under her head triggers Owen’s memory: Y/n’s an emotional drunk. She doesn’t get drunk often but when she does, she goes all in and becomes somewhat manic as a result. That accounts for her previous anger. Now it’s sadness, so in about ten minutes, she’ll be easily excitable and bouncing off the walls.

Y/n had carpooled with Leila and Chelsea to the party, and though Owen was upset about her not picking him up like they’d briefly talked about at first, he’s suddenly thankful for the arrangement.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?”

“Unhhh.” The lack of a coherent response is enough for Owen, and after finishing the rest of his water, he sits up on the couch.

“Where’s your house key? Hm?” The prospect of losing her key is absolutely devastating to Y/n as she begins to weep. Her imminent distress in response to Owen’s question has all their friends laughing once more; Leila speaks up,

“Check the left chest pocket of her jacket.”

Owen nods, noting the directions, and gently rolls his friend over on her back. Deciding against using her strength, Y/n flops over onto her other side which still allows Owen access to her pocket. His long fingers dwarf the button fastener on her jacket that she often struggles to open, and sure enough her sky blue house key is in her pocket just as Leila said.

“Thanks,” he acknowledges Leila before taking Y/n’s cold hands in his own larger ones to help her stand. It’s a bit of a struggle to stand and as a result, the fading girl leans a bit of her weight into Owen’s side. “You gonna say bye to our friends?”

Y/n nods a goodbye to each person in the room, moving from left to right naming Leila, Taylor, Chelsea, and then Charlie. Upon saying bye to Charlie the small girl starts to cry again, harder this time, much to everyone’s confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“Charlie looked a-at me like he didn’t l-like me.” The entire room bursts out laughing, Owen included this time, but she’s still crying. “It’s no-not funny.”

“I know. You’re right, it’s not funny.” Owen’s exaggerated sympathy goes undetected by the very emotional Y/n as she presses her face into his grey long sleeve shirt. She reaches up to hug her arms around Owen’s neck for stability as she adds more tears to the tiny spot from before. “Can you walk?” He asks genuinely as more of her weight leans into him. The only response Owen gets is a few soft sobs, and in reaction to her messy state, lets out a subtle eye roll. He shakes his head before bending down to place one arm under her knees and the other behind her shoulder blades, sweeping her off the ground before she can protest.

“Would you guys tell Jer thanks and that I had to take her home?” A symphony of affirmations and goodbyes usher him out of the house, and once outside Y/n’s crying diminuendos into short sniffles and the occasional sigh.

“Here, be careful,” Owen panics as his friend nearly bangs the front of her head against the roof of his car. Once he cautiously places all her limbs in the passenger side, Owen shuts the door and hurries over to the driver’s side as if Y/n could hurt herself in the next five seconds. He places the key in the ignition but before he even touches the gear shift, he turns and looks quizzically at his best friend. The sniffling and sighs coming from her puffy face have lulled her into an almost unconscious state; Owen puffs out a frustrated sigh as he reaches across the entire car to grab Y/n’s seatbelt for her.

Another thing about drunk Y/n is that her emotional state makes her more likely to give in to physical impulses. So after she registers Owen leaning across her lap for the seatbelt, she grabs his shoulder so he doesn’t move away. The action surprises Owen and he turns his face to look into her half-lidded eyes. He’s trying to make sense of the action but his trailing thoughts are interrupted when the girl in the passenger’s seat leans forward slightly to put her face against Owen’s neck.

“I like your smell.” Owen tries so hard not to laugh in fear of upsetting her again, but he can’t conceal the smile growing on his face. He then gently pulls away from her grasp in order to actually start driving,

“Okay. Thank you.”

The car ride is composed of mostly comfortable silence with the occasional inebriated comment or nonsensical sound from the girl in the passenger seat; Owen had been so captivated by Y/n’s uncharacteristically relaxed state, he’d been driving on autopilot and instead of turning left to get on the highway that runs south to where her apartment is, he’d gone north to go to his own place. No big deal, Owen didn’t plan on leaving her intoxicated and alone, and she’s stayed the night plenty of times before now. What’s one more night? It isn’t until he puts the car in park and helps her out of the vehicle that Y/n clocks her surroundings.

“I don’t live here.”

“You don’t, no, but I do,” Owen replies simply before he slides out of the car. Y/n stays in the car as if Owen told her not to move, and looks up at him confusedly when he opens her door. In her tipsy state, she is able to recognize what Owen is doing and smugly places her hand over the buckle of her seatbelt. With her tiny palm over the red button, she begins giggling maniacally.

“What are you doing?” Owen asks with a frustrated sigh although he can’t help the small smile overtaking his features at the sound of her growing laughter. He doesn’t get a response, just more giggling which lets him know he’s going to have to do things the hard way now that she’s in a lifted mood. “Kid, you have to get out of the car.”

“You can’t make me.”

Owen takes a step back from the open door to reevaluate. Y/n always tells him to work smarter, not harder. Another one of her many bouts of wisdom is that you can keep the attention of children and adults alike with a vastly dynamic change in volume. The question is will she notice Owen using this tactic on her in her drunken state?

“Hey, Y/n/n,” his speech drops to a low whisper. “I’m sad, can you hold my hand?” The change in volume works exactly as described; completely convinced by the sincerity of his whispering, Y/n gives him her right hand. “Can I have the other one?”

When she nods a small ‘yes’ and gives him both of her hands, Owen finds himself fighting the urge to laugh at how easy that was. He takes both of her cool hands in his larger left one to reach across her body and release her seatbelt with a swift CLICK.

Luckily Y/n didn’t tangle herself up in the seatbelt, but she had other ideas for causing trouble. Owen helped her out of the car but once she was standing on her own two feet, she began running away from him. With a slam of the car door and a string of breathy curses later, he chases after his best friend before she can hurt herself on literally anything in the parking garage. The sound of Y/n’s laughter carries through the vacant space, and despite all her best efforts, Owen quickly catches up to her. Her giddy intoxication allowed for the suspension of disbelief that she could outrun the much taller Owen Joyner, but she’s sorely mistaken when his strong arms wrap around her waist and lift her feet off the ground. Y/n’s bouts of laughter are contagious; Owen finds himself laughing alongside his best friend. Setting her feet back on the ground he asks,

“Are you going to run away again if I let go of you?”

“Yeah,” she chokes out through the tail end of her laughing fit. The candidness of her reply prompts Owen to throw his head back, shaking it as if in disagreement with the universe itself,

“I appreciate your honesty.” And with that, Y/n screeches in glee as her best friend maneuvers her body in his grip to lift her over his right shoulder.

“Owen!”

“You did this to yourself, kid.”

The silent elevator ride up to his flat is comfortable relative to the current position they’re in. Y/n’s no longer fighting being carried but instead entertains herself by tapping out an intricate beat on the surface of Owen’s back.

“Guess what song this is.”

The beat she’s playing is close to incoherent and Owen tries to stifle his full laugh in fear of making her cry again. He’s been successful so far, but now having Y/n over his shoulder, she can feel the movement of his abdomen that was unintelligible by sight alone.

“Your favorite song,” he guesses insincerely.

“No, my favorite song doesn’t sound like that. It was sicko mode.”

“That was not sicko mode.”

“Owen, how come you don’t wear a badge?”

“What?”

“Because you’re the song police?” Owen can’t help but snort out a laugh even though the comment was made at his expense. Still sharp as a tack.

Once the pair reach the front door of Owen’s ‘bachelorette pad’ as Y/n liked to call it, he sets her back on the ground albeit reluctantly as he recalls why he was carrying her in the first place. Thinking quickly on his feet, Owen forms a plan that’s more likely than not foolproof.

“Hey, Y/n/n?”

“Yeah?” Her voice is still right behind him thankfully.

“Can I have a hug?” After a few seconds of silence in the hall, Owen begins to doubt his plan until he feels the weight of his best friend leaning on his toned back. With her cheek pressed against the middle of his spine, Y/n brings her arms around his waist, clasping her hands tightly together. Her semi-public display of affection allows Owen some time to unlock his front door. Once he props the door open, Owen realizes that Y/n probably isn’t going to let go any time soon and opts to waddle through the threshold with her still attached to him. He’s able to turn around and lock them back in for the night which makes the girl begin to laugh.

“Was this your plan all along? To get me drunk so you could lock me in your apartment and hold me prisoner for the rest of my life?”

“And I would’ve gotten away with it, too...”

“If it weren’t for those meddling kids and their dog.”

True to his imagination that Y/n wasn’t letting go any time soon, Owen swivels her around his torso so that he could hold her to his side rather than support her with his back. He now has his right arm over both of her shoulders as she continues to hug her best friend. The way she leans her head onto his chest makes Owen’s heartbeat the tiniest bit faster. ‘She’s drunk, she doesn’t know what this does to you’ is the mantra blaring through Owen’s subconscious. Shaking any and all sort of romantic thoughts out of his head, he begins to lead her back to his bedroom.

Flicking the lights on proves to be a mistake once Y/n starts groaning miserably, and Owen decides the floor lamp is a better option than the overheads. Much to Owen’s surprise and relief, Y/n moves to sit on the edge of his bed on her own volition. She’s not upright for long as she collapses into the sheets of his unmade bed that contemplated neatening before leaving the house; hindsight is 20/20.

“Hmm. I like your smell,” Y/n parrots despite already bringing up the topic on the ride home.

“This is the same cologne I always use.”

“No. I like your natural smell.”

“What?”

“I was reading up about pheromones the other day. And there was this thing that said when couples like each others’ scent, it’s like a primal way of seeing if you’re immuno-compatible with someone so your offspring have the best chance for survival. It’s an evolutionary thing for the survival of our species. Ants have pheromones, too.”

Sometimes she has trouble remembering to feed herself, but leave it to Y/n to remember extensive information about pheromones whilst intoxicated. The concept is intriguing to Owen, so he proceeds to ask questions, ignoring the tug on his heart he felt after hearing her say the word ‘couples’.

“So, if I like your scent, we’re immuno-?”

“Compatible, yeah. But it’s mostly me because you can sniff out my period.”

“I can what?”

“I read that men can tell when a woman is at her most fertile because that’s when they like her smell the best. They did a study where a bunch of men were introduced to a few different scents, and without fail, the one they liked the most or would describe as ‘sexy’ or ‘attractive’ was the scent they took from the woman who was ovulating.”

Y/n continues talking about what she learned about pheromones as Owen picks up a bit of the mess around his room. She returns to the topic of ant pheromones as he digs through his surprisingly large closet for something for his friend to sleep in. His temporarily bubbly best friend also notes that he should ‘sniff her now because she’s ovulating and he would like that’ which makes him laugh into the drawers of his waist-height dresser. Returning to find her still slumped over on the bed, he pats her leg and beckons her to sit up. After Y/n’s upright again, Owen hands her his classic black ‘BEANS’ t-shirt and a pair of briefs that won’t properly fit her but will fit better than a pair of his actual pants.

“Can you put these on for me?”

“Yeah.” Owen’s conflicted with both wanting to respect Y/n’s privacy by leaving the room, and prioritizing her safety, and not leaving her unattended at any moment. He comes to a compromise which is staying by her side but turning a full 180 to face the wall of his bedroom. A couple of moments pass until Y/n begins whining frustratedly.

“Owen.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t ubns-” her words become incomprehensible as she begins to cry again and Owen turns around to find her struggling with the buttons on her shirt, her jacket long discarded on the bedroom floor. This shirt: her white, cap-sleeve crop top with a peter pan collar that she wore for anything mildly significant, this was her favorite. Owen remembers her fussing about how she ruined it only to find that she just forgot to steam it one day. So with a little heat and water, Owen had fixed the shirt like nothing ever happened, and he’d do it a million times over again if it meant he got to relive seeing the smile that graced her face for the first time again.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do the buttons.” She runs the back of her right hand against her tired eyes to wipe away her tears and Owen internally curses himself for the way the small action makes his heart flutter.

“Do you need help?”

“Yeah.”

“Listen to me, you are okay,” he sinks to kneel in front of Y/n as she sits tiredly on the edge of the bed. Owen doesn’t miss the slight tremble of his hands as he reaches up to unbutton her shirt, but he prays that she will. Through tiny sniffles and teary eyes, she watches his hands effortlessly work down the length of her shirt, each button modestly dancing between his fingertips. Once the short top is fully unbuttoned, Owen returns to his normal standing height and Y/n attempts to shrug the fabric off her body. She struggles lightly and knowing her frustration is imminent, Owen reaches down to gingerly push the sleeves off her shoulders. The light graze of his rough, calloused skin against her own skin sends electric-like shocks through the both of them; yet neither of them believed the other felt it too.

Owen hastily withdraws his hands and, without warning, Y/n quickly removes the bralette she was wearing. Owen’s eyes widen slightly at her lack of inhibition. He does his best to be a gentleman and swiftly redirects his gaze to the white ceiling fan that has all of a sudden become the most intriguing object in the universe. His lower peripheral vision indicates that she’s finally slipped the black tee over her head, but she begins sniffling more fiercely as she struggles with taking off her jeans. Owen sighs and drops to his knees once more in spite of himself, and aids his best friend in slipping the material over the length of her calves and off the tips of her toes. Hoping to speed up the process, he grabs the briefs he had brought her and unfolds them in preparation for helping her into them. His efforts are all for naught as Y/n forgoes the need for any more clothing and slides under the covers of his unmade bed. Owen then turns to leave the bedroom, opting to set up on the couch for the night before Y/n’s small voice is cutting through the comfortable silence.

“Where are you going?” He sighs,

“I’ll be right back, okay? I’ll get you some water and Advil for when you wake up tomorrow.” Y/n then nods acceptingly and allows her eyes to flutter closed as he leaves the room. Despite how tired she feels, Y/n won’t quite yet let herself sleep--not ‘til Owen is beside her. When he returns he sets the ibuprofen bottle on the nightstand before uncapping the Kirkland brand water bottle he had in the fridge. He coaxes her into sitting up just one more time so she can drink some of the water before falling asleep. She sits and rubs her tired eyes as she drinks and Owen has to physically force himself to look away from the adorable sight. He just wants to take care of her forever but things have always been strictly platonic between them.

The risk of making their friendship weird or awkward was just too great.

“Goodnight kid, I’ll be right outside if you need me.” Owen leaves without awaiting a response and lets out an annoyed sigh before setting himself up on the couch in his living room. He was so focused on getting Y/n to bed safely that he forgot to grab clothes for himself. Not a big deal. He simply strips down to just his underwear and climbs underneath the thick Pottery Barn throw blanket Y/n had gifted him as a housewarming gift. That and a fire extinguisher because ‘you don’t notice its absence until you need it’ she claimed. The memory makes Owen smile and he allows his eyes to close after a long day.

A long day that was about to get longer. Owen finds himself sinking further and further into sleep until he hears the padding of footsteps that are now in his living room. He’s too tired to open his eyes, and it’s not like he doesn’t already know who it is. What does surprise him, however, is the feeling of the familiar weight squeezing between the couch and his turned back.

“What are you doing?” He half mumbles into the night.

“You’re warm.”

“That was not the question, Y/n/n.” After not receiving a reply, Owen turns as best as he can to look at his friend who’s nestling her way into his sleeping arrangement for the night. “Kid-”

“I just wanna be with you.”

“Alright,” Owen sighs out of irritation, exhaustion, and a sliver of adoration before sitting up on the couch, “Come on.”

He stands up, fully expecting to have to drag her back to the bedroom, but finds relief in seeing her struggle her way off the couch. Slipping her tired hand into his unexpecting, larger one, Y/n allows her friend to lead her into the bedroom for the second time that night.

Owen considerately lifts the covers for her to climb back into before getting into the other side of the bed.

“Owen.”

“Hm?”

“Guess what.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, kid.”

“No,” Y/n speaks in a casual tone as if she’s not divulging into her biggest emotional trepidation to date. “I love you, Owen.”

Owen can’t help the way his heart seemingly stops. The way the butterflies in his stomach are going wild. The way he wants to smile like he’s the biggest lovestruck idiot on planet Earth.

She’s drunk. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. She won’t remember this tomorrow.

“I’m in love with you, Y/n.”

She won’t remember that tomorrow.

***

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sithsecrets · 4 years ago

Text

beside one another | din djarin x reader

The hunt for a quarry takes the Mandalorian and his crew member to a fancy hotel in Canto Bight. The two lie beside one another under the cover of darkness, and the meaning of home comes into sharp focus.

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3.3k words

Mentions: typical rich people bullshit, people are a little scared of din, a little bit of pining, “there’s only one bed!”, sharing clothes, NO SMUT

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When Mando tells you that the next quarry’s hiding out in Canto Bight, you can’t help how excited you sound when you ask how long you’ll be staying. He’s his usual stoic self, even in the face of your curiosity, but you do detect a hint of annoyance in his voice as he tells you not to get excited.

“But it’s Canto Bight!” you declare, and the baby echoes your tone by cooing brightly on your hip. “It seems so glamorous!”

“You’ll feel differently once we get there,” Mando states, and then he’s punching coordinates into the navigation system, seemingly done discussing the matter. You buckle into the passenger seat with the baby, settling him on your lap so he gets a good view through the windshield during takeoff. He loves this part for some reason, despite all the rattling and the noise, and he squeals in utter joy like you thought he would.

“At least someone’s excited,” you declare, teasing the Mandalorian for being so grumpy. The man himself says nothing to this, but you’re too pleased with yourself and the prospect of visiting a new place to care.

Before Mando hired you to be his one and only crew member, you’d never really left the Tatoo System. Sure, you’d made a quick trip to here and there, visited a moon or two in your time, but never anything of substance. New places are your favorite thing to collect right now, and you can’t wait to cross Cantonica off your list. You heard stories of Canto Bight when you were little, saw a few holograms of the opulent streets— you can’t wait to see it all in person, even if Mando’s not excited in the slightest. You’re sure it’s different for him, all the traveling and the going to places he’s never been, but the novelty hasn’t worn off for you yet.

The journey to Cantonica is a short one, and before you know it, the Crest is touching down in a sleek, high-class receiving hangar. The landing coordinator sounds like a snob over the comm, making more than one comment about the state of the Crest. But the tone shifts completely once you, Mando, and the baby emerge from the ship, all of the personnel suddenly very accommodating. You’re used to seeing people (the smart ones, anyway) regard Mando with equal parts respect and fear, but this is just excessive. Someone ushers you and the baby out of the sun and into a small office, rushing to offer you a cool drink, and the foreman himself comes out to talk business. The content of he and Mando’s conversation is lost on you, though you do get to watch them talk through a little window.

(Later, you’ll learn that the man let Mando park the Crest here for a fifth of the usual price, but this won’t come as surprise by the time you find out.)

Mando hails a cruiser for the three of you, and then you’re zooming across the dessert on your way to Canto Bight. As the sun slips lower and lower in the sky, the lights of the city become brighter and brighter on the horizon, stoking your excitement. Mando’s minding the baby, so you get to fully enjoy the ride, taking in all you can as the vehicle flies over the sand. Within minutes, sand becomes grass, grass becomes pavement, and then you’re in Canto Bight proper, surrounded on all sides by wealth and luxury. The driver drops the three of you off in front of a grand hotel, and then he’s off without a word, speeding away to pick up another fare.

You, Mando, and the baby make your way inside, and you’re immediately blindsided by the realization that this hotel isn’t a place for you, not really. The interior, much like the building’s exterior, is more opulent than any other building you’ve ever been to, but it’s the people that make you feel like you’re a stain on their carpet. Every single being in the lobby, human or alien, is made up in the galaxy’s finest fabrics and most expensive jewels. They glitter and gleam in the light, and your casual, comfortable clothes looks like rags in comparison. A ball of nervous, self-conscious energy forms in your stomach, the anxiety only made worse by the fact that all eyes are on you. Well, all eyes are on Mando, as they so often are, but you as part of his entourage are subject to scrutiny by mere association. Thankfully, the patrons of this establishment seem more awed than judgmental, but that doesn’t the attention is any less disconcerting.

Before you and Mando can so much as approach the reception desk, you’re stopped short by a man dressed in sharp clothes. His dark hair is perfectly combed and parted, and you catch a hint of expensive cologne as he introduces himself as the resort manager. Mando declines to shake his hand, but you let the man squeeze your palm for a brief moment.

“We need to book a room,” Mando states, trying to use this as an excuse to end the exchange. The resort manager, however, brushes off the attempt with ease.

“That’s already been taken care of, sir.” He gestures towards the elevators with one well-manicured hand, smiling what you can only describe as a customer service smile. “If you follow me this way, I can show you and your companions to your accommodations.”

“We don’t have lines of credit on this planet,” Mando cuts, tone taking on an edge as fishes around for some money. “We just want—”

“Sir,” the resort manager presses, and you have to admire the way he keeps his voice steady even though he looks like he might piss his pants any second, “I assure you that it’s been take care of. Now please, follow me.”

Mando pauses for a moment, staring down this well-dressed, handsome man as if to size him up. But then he nods, and Mr. Manager leads the three of you to the elevators. You ride up up up in a private car, sitting in relative silence the whole way. The manager does most of the talking, asking a few subtly invasive questions about why you’re here— right up until Mando essentially tells him to fuck off. After that, conversation centers mostly around the baby and the amenities available at the hotel, and then you’re walking out into a quiet corridor. It’s not a private floor by any means, but the spacing of the doors lets you know that not many people stay up here. That’s a bit of a relief, at least in your opinion, because the guests here seem rowdy. And drunk. So fucking drunk…

The suite is— Well, the suite is fucking ridiculous, to put it bluntly. It’s four rooms, five if you count the little kitchen area as its own space, and everything is decorated just so. The furnishings are opulent, the upholstery is rich— the ‘fresher alone is bigger than the common area of the home you grew up in. The manager says something about how you shouldn’t hesitate to ask for anything you need, but you barely here him, awestruck in a way by the luxury all around you. Mando sees your escort out, and you can’t believe how casual he’s being about all of this.

“Do—?” The baby makes a discontent noise, ready to be let out of his pram, and you lower him down without giving the action much thought. “Do people always do things like this for you, or…?”

Mando turns to look at you. “Only when they’re scared shitless. As far as all those people are concerned, they’re my next quarry.”

Having received the message, you leave the conversation at that, opting to go and unpack instead of prodding Mando further. The baby toddles about the suite at his leisure, oscillating between cooing at his father and playing on the bed while you work. He’s broken into a basket of complimentary snacks, and you watch as he munches on cookies and chips and a full range of other fine foods. You should probably stop him on the premise of all that ruining his dinner, but Mando’s making noises about going out to do some reconnaissance this evening. With him gone, it’ll just be you and the kid, and you think he can have a treat just this once. Besides, he might crash from the sugar rush, and you could score an evening to yourself in this big fancy hotel room.

“Send me a comm if I’m not here when you wake up,” is all Mando says before he leaves, though he does tilt his head in acknowledgement when you tell him to be safe.

As you suspected, the Child begins to wind down not long after his father leaves, lapsing into a junk food-induced coma with a bag of chips still clenched tightly in his little green hand. You clean up his face and lay him down in his pram for the night, tucking his blankets just so before you click the cover shut.

Virtually alone now, there’s not much for you to do besides bathe and get ready for bed. And so, you do just that, lingering in the bathtub simply because you can. When the water’s gotten too cool for your liking, you climb out and play with the products that have been left out on the countertop, rubbing some expensive lotion into your skin. After that, it’s time to curse quietly to yourself in the bedroom— in all your haste and excitement to pack for this trip, you managed to forget to bring something to sleep in. Mando packed two extra shirts for himself instead of one, however, and you study one of them at arm’s length for a long moment. Wearing another person’s clothes to bed is definitely something you should ask permission to do, that much you know, but… but Mando’s not here, and you need something to wear now. Finally, you slip the garment over your head, deciding that you’ll just apologize later if he gets worked up about it.

Dressed and freshly bathed, your next order of business is to procure some food for yourself. The baby’s still asleep when you get out of the bathtub, so you forgo getting him anything. You do, however, order something that’ll be good for Mando later, something filling that can be eaten lukewarm or even cold when he gets back. Everything is delicious, and you climb into bed full and content.

Even though you’re tired, sleep doesn’t come easily. You find yourself thinking of Mando, and you lie awake wondering what he’s up to— wondering if he’s safe. He’s always doing this, going out for indeterminate amounts of times to hunt his prey, and you worry about him each and every time he’s gone. It’s silly, you know, and for so many reasons. He’s a Mandalorian, for the Maker’s sake— he can take care of himself just fine— and it’s not like he’s yours to fuss over anyway. Sure, the man employs you, but your emotional investment in his safety has grown a bit intense over these past few months. As much as you hate to admit it, Mando’s different to you now, more important than he used to be. The fact that you have feelings for him at all like this is borderline idiotic, but… but sometimes you wonder if he feels things for you too. You don’t have any concrete evidence, your assumptions largely based off of two passing comments and the tilt of his helmet, but still, you cling to the hope that he wants you the same way you want him.

It takes some time, but the sounds of the city do eventually lull you to sleep. You don’t wake again until the early hours of the morning, disturbed by movement in the other room. The clang of Mando’s spurs is a dead giveaway, and you relax as soon as you realize that it’s just him. You try to settle down and drift off again, but you find that you’re suddenly wide awake. So instead, you listen to Mando go about his business, tracking his footsteps from room to room. You hear the shower run in the ‘fresher for a little while, and then a chair scrapes against the floor in the dining room a few minutes after that. The tinkling of a utensils tells you that Mando’s eating the food you got for him, and he must like it, too, because he doesn’t just inhale the plate and move on.

Earlier, after you and Mando realized that the suite only has one bed, he offered to sleep on the couch, and you’d agreed to that. Now, though, you don’t like the idea of him trying to fold his beskar-clad body up on the cushions in the living room. He’s the reason the three of you got this room in the first place, even if he never asked for the special treatment, and you think he’s entitled to at least sleep on the ridiculously soft bed. Still, it’s a presumptuous thing, asking him to lie down with you, and you’re not sure you’re brave enough to do it. You are brave enough, however, to ask him how his surveillance mission went, so you slip out of bed and pad towards the dining room.

“Mando?” you call, voice sounding rather loud in the still darkness. You wouldn’t want to catch him without his helmet on, so you’re giving him a warning.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Mando affirms, and you know the coast is clear by the electronic tinge to his voice.

He’s still sitting there at the table when you turn the corner, and the Mandalorian does seem a bit taken aback by the sight of you. Only now do you remember that you’re wearing his clothes, and two thoughts cross your mind: Will he be pissed with you? Does this shirt even cover your ass properly?

“Is—? You’re wearing my clothes.” Mando is expressionless in the helmet, of course, but the tilt of his voice is indicative of surprise.

You flush, tugging on the hem of the shirt. “Yeah, I— I forgot to pack something to sleep in, and you had an extra one. I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry,” the Mandalorian says at once, cutting you off. A pause, and then he’s much more collected, much more like himself again. “It’s not a problem, really. No big deal.”

You nod at that, and then things are casual again. You ask Mando if he got any good information about his quarry, and he says that he did. He thanks you for getting him some dinner, and you say that it was no trouble.

“The baby’s sleeping?”

“Yeah,” you affirm, jerking your head towards the bedroom. “I have him in his pram. I think all the sweets put him in a diabetic coma.”

Mando doesn’t laugh, but the little huff that comes from his vocoder is enough to tell you that the joke landed. “Good,” he says, “I’m glad somebody’s getting some rest.”

There’s a lull in conversation, the two of you looking at one another from opposite ends of the dimly lit dining room. You lean in the doorway, mock-casual as you toy with the hem of your borrowed shirt.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch, you know,” you say softly, finding it difficult to make eye contact with the visor as you speak.

“It doesn’t matter to me,” the Mandalorian replies. “You got in bed first, so I’m not going to make you move now—”

“No, no,” you chide, interrupting him. “I—”

You take a breath, deciding that now is as good a time as any. It’s time to rip off the bandage, and if this goes to shit, you can always chalk your actions up to exhaustion later.

“I mean, you could come lie down in bed too,” you say quickly, fidgeting nervously. “With me.”

Mando doesn’t say or do anything for one long, agonizing moment, and you’re sure you’re going to throw up. But then…

“Do you want me to lie down with you?”

His voice is quiet through the modulator, almost soft in a way, and the sound of it makes something inside you flutter.

“Yeah.”

You’re almost whispering, and you wonder what the Mandalorian thinks of you in this moment, how you look to him standing there in his clothes, asking him to come to bed with you. It must not be an ugly sight in his eyes, because he stands and walks to you, murmuring, “Come on.”

Mando checks on the baby as you crawl back in bed, rearranging the Child’s blankets, giving him an affectionate little pat. The pram clicks closed, and then Mando’s faltering at the edge of the bed.

“I can’t—” His abandons his words in favor of a display, gesturing towards the armor on his body, to the room as a whole. “This isn’t—”

“I know,” you say softly, because you do. The armor makes him feel safe, makes him feel strong, and he won’t be able to sleep if he takes it off in this strange, foreign environment. “Just take your boots off. Or are those made of beskar too?”

It’s a silly joke, but it earns you a little huff through the vocoder nonetheless.

“No,” Mando retorts, tone light. He takes off more than just his boots, unclipping his utility belt before he sits down on the edge of the bed. It takes Mando a minute to unlace his boots, but when he’s done, he finally lies down beside you, not even untucking the blankets on his side.

“You don’t want some covers?”

Mando shakes his head, and you have to admit that his big, beskar-clad body looks out of place in this even bigger, soft bed. You wonder idly if it would be different on the ship, if Mando would take all the armor off and lie beside you there too. You could never ask him to take the helmet off, that would be too much, but if he was on his own turf instead of holed up in some hotel suite… It’s too late to be worried about all of that now, though, so you force yourself to relax and enjoy this moment.

“This place is sort of fancy,” Mando says to you, voice cutting through the darkness, and you nod in agreement.

“Yeah, but I like the Crest better.”

“Really?”

You nod again. “It’s… warmer. Everything in this city is so cold. The building’s are pretty, and the streets make a pretty picture, but nobody’s supposed to live here. It’s all for show. Very plastic. I see why you weren’t excited to come here.”

Mando says nothing to this, though somehow you know that he’s not taking pleasure in being right.

Feeling bold, you move a bit closer to the Mandalorian. “I’ll be happy to go home.”

“I’m getting the quarry tomorrow,” Mando says, “probably before nightfall. We can be back on the Crest and off Cantonica before it’s time for us to sleep again.”

You like to think there’s a promise in that, an indication of what’s to come, but you’ll just have to wait and see. You’ll just have to hope.

“Good.”

And as your last act of bravery for the night, you reach out across the sheets and grab Mando’s hand.

He doesn’t pull away.

#my writing #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas · 4 years ago

Note

Can we PLEASE get Kohga making Sooga his favorite food? Just something TENDER?

Kohga HAS been a bit mean to poor Sooga, let’s lighten it up a bit!

Kohga knew he was a hell of a top. He knew he could boss around everyone six ways to Sunday, and that included Sooga. But being a top was WAY more than just bossing around your partner. It was taking care of them. It was showing them you cared, and even though Kohga was used to being pampered, he knew he had to give it back. Being a top came with that kind of responsibility. So, Kohga made his men gather intel, and figure out what was Sooga’s ideal meal. He hated finding out it was in fact, deep fried salmon skin, salmon filet stuffed with creamy hyrule herbs, carrot cake, and a nice dirty banana cocktail. Now, the drink and the dessert wasn’t the problem. It was the gross, disgusting, slimy FISH that was an issue. Of all the hunks of men he had to fall for, it was the one that LOVED fish.

“Master Kohga? Are you okay? You’ve been...staring at the fish for like, ten minutes.”

Kohga had sent Sooga out on an errand, and had two foot soldier’s help him prep and clean as he cooked. However, when he brought them the hearty salmon, fresh from the Hebra mountains, he couldn’t help but gawk at it. It smelled awful, and it was STILL wet. Kohga went to touch it, only to wince. Gross, fishy smell, he hated it ever since he was a kid. He recalled his mother trying to feed him fish, only to smack it right out of her hand.

“God, how do you guys EAT this stuff?”

“It’s the fat of the salmon, Master Kohga, it makes it very tasty. If you’d like, WE can handle the fish. You could just make everything else-”

“Nope. I gotta do this. I can do this. I can cook a fish. I know how to cook fish. Gimme the knife, get everything else ready.”

He nodded, before handing Master Kohga the knife. Kohga, groaning to himself, placed his hand on the fish.

“Ew ew ew ew, it’s SO slimy, I HATE it. Smells like DEATH."

But Kohga pushed himself through it. He shut his eyes, and grabbed a hold of the fish. It’s gross, dead eyes looked up at him. He ran his blade down the length of the body, nearly gagging as he watched the scales fly off. Sooga was so fucking lucky he was cute, else he couldn’t put up with the nasty, gross smell and feel of this fucking thing. He sighed as he finally finished, feeling just a BIT better. The boys next to him clapped as they continued prepping for him, honestly proud.

“Very well done Master Kohga! We’re proud of you! Cutting it will be easy!”

He fought every instinct not to punch them in the mask. None of this was easy.

"Now...the fins. Why do they have fins, I hate it. I wanna know what kinda damaged person first saw fish, and thought 'hey, let's eat this thing!'"

"To...help them swim-"

"Don't you make me imagine that. This isn't food I'm making, it's a goddamn WAR CRIME."

Kohga cut off the fins, slowly, trying not to lose his shit. He tossed it into the sink beside him, lightly shuddering. Now, arguably the worst part; taking off the slimy, creepy head. Kohga was damn good at butchering, and fishes were no exception, but that didn’t mean he liked it. Because he did NOT like the feel of the knife grazing through the meat. At all. When it finally came off, he groaned.

"Alright, new job for you both. Take this knife, and just stop my pain."

It was going to be a long, long night.

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

"Sooga, you're back, just in time!"

Sooga was greeted by a foot soldier, which he found odd. Not that others didn't like him, it was just weird, getting such an excitable welcome. Though, much was weird about today. Kohga had sent him on a scavenger hunt, gathering items that didn't make sense. Stuff from a dozen warm darners, to a lynel crusher. It wasn’t his place however, to question his master.

"I take it Master Kohga was waiting for me? If so, I apologize, one of the Lynels was rather...stubborn."

"Kohga WAS waiting for you! Come on, this way!"

He followed the foot soldier, right to Kohga's napping spot. He was surprised when he saw a table there, lit up by candles.

"What about Kohga’s list of-”

Kohga suddenly had a hold on his hand, starting to yank him towards the table.

"Shut up, I have a surprise for you. Sit your buns down."

Sooga obeyed, still not understanding what was happening. That is, until Sooga started to bring plates and plates of food to the table. Carrot cake, fresh loaves of bread with goat butter, and the part that really got him excited; the fish. Not just crispy salmon skin, fried till golden and crispy, but thick, juicy cuts of salmon, stuffed to the brim with creamy filling. Sooga found himself nearly clutching his pearls, a bit taken aback.

“Master Kohga...is this, for me?”

“No, I wanna eat fish- yes it’s for you.”

“You cooked fish? For me?”

Kohga took a seat next to him, shuddering at the feel of fish in his hands. He needed a bath. A LONG bath.

“Yeah, I did. So if you ever question how much I love you, I’m gonna remind you, I cooked FISH for you. I had to TOUCH it and-”

Kohga was going to rant further, before Sooga held onto his hand, and kissed the back of his hand.

“I’m honored, totally and completely. Not only to have a place in your heart, but to know you made this with your tender love and care. I adore you, Master Kohga.”

When a man THAT good looking, and THAT sweet said stuff like that to you, it made even Kohga just a bit flustered. Just a smidge. Sooga put his hand down, lifted his mask up a bit, and helped himself. Kohga had seen him eat before; quickly, as if he was in some kind of hurry. Sometimes he wouldn’t even finish his meals, for favor of getting right back to work. Kohga thought he was going to see just that, before he noticed this was different. Sooga wasn’t just tasting things here and there and calling it a day, he was actually tucking in. After kindly offering Kohga some bread (Kohga didn’t want to eat at the same table as fish, but hey, it made Sooga happy), Sooga started to finish some plates. The skin quickly disappeared, his half of the bread was gone, and the plate of fish was quickly torn into. Kohga almost couldn’t believe it.

“You know, just because I made it, doesn’t mean you gotta play it up.”

“Pardon?”

Sooga even spoke with his mouth full, muttering an apology soon after realizing it. He swallowed, before shaking his head.

“Ah, I see what you mean. No, Master Kohga, I am doing no such thing. I love fish, and I genuinely love your cooking. It’s an honor, and makes my heart swell in appreciation. It almost brings me back to my childhood, this dish.”

Kohga could tell he meant it. The way he sighed in content, even the way he wiped his mouth. It was rare to see Sooga not so tense. Sooga smiled, and pushed the heavy serving of carrot cake in between them.

“I would often share desserts with my mother after dinner as well. Do you dislike carrot cake as well?”

Kohga rolled his eyes, before grabbing a fork.

“Lucky for you, I kinda like it. Just how I kinda like you.”

Was it stupid, falling for a man who shoveled carrot cake in his mouth with such a smile? Maybe. Maybe past all of his brilliance, he was a touch stupid for one man.

One sweet, strong man. One who, despite his stomach’s objections, he’d be happy to keep cooking fish for.

#asks #kohga #sooga

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charincharge · 5 years ago

Text

Cruel Summer, Part 4

cruel summer masterlist

AN: Sorry about last chapter’s tag list! It seems like only half of you got notified, so, if you did not read Part 3 (it was posted Sunday), go back and read that one first, and apologies for my lack of Tumblr tech skills. I think it is fixed. FINGERS CROSSED. Okay, onward.

Aelin sips her coffee and silences her phone as it buzzes continually on the kitchen table. It’s been going off for the last two days with texts from Dorian. She lied and told him she wasn’t feeling well to give herself some space. But she knows she can only fend him off for maybe one more day or so.

Park today?

His latest text reads. It’s not that she doesn’t want to spend time with Dorian. She does. She really does. But, she’s just not feeling up to going to the park yet. She knows he’ll want to spend all day there, and she’s feeling less than enthused about that. And she’s sure that has absolutely nothing to do with a tall silver-haired employee she spent the better part of Monday avoiding. Nope. Nothing at all. She replies quickly.

Still sick. In bed with a fever :(

“Liar!” Dorian calls, rounding the corner to the kitchen.

Aelin grumbles as she takes a large bite of her toaster waffle. “How’d you get in here?”

Dorian slides into the kitchen chair next to her and lays his head down on the table, looking up at her with the saddest, biggest puppy dog eyes he can manage, and innocently holds up the small gold key that usually resides under the flowerpot next to the front door. Aelin grabs it back and lays her head on the table next to him. They stare at each other, their faces a few inches apart, Dorian’s eyes wide with wondering at Aelin’s frowning.

Dorian smirks and brings his hand up to boop her nose softly. Aelin scrunches her nose, but she can’t help but crack the smallest of smiles at her best friend’s efforts.

“You’ve been in a mood since Monday. What’s the deal?” he asks. “It wouldn’t happen to have to do with the red lipstick fiasco? Don’t think I didn’t notice you went back upstairs to put it on.”

“No,” Aelin scoffs, her false bravado kicking in as she pushes herself upright. “Of course not. I just remembered I had a matte stay all day lipstick, and it went better with my outfit.”

Dorian lifts himself up and stares at Aelin, his brow furrowing as he goads her, “So not wanting to go to the park has absolutely nothing to do with the hot hot silver-haired staff member you were making eyes at all day?” Dorian sighs. “Come on, Aelin. Tell meee,” he pleads. “I already know.”

Aelin flips her hair over her shoulder as she places her mug into the sink. “I’m sorry, Dor.”

“You’re the one who’s going to be sorry,” he says. “Because if we’re not going to the park, I’m going to need full details on your hot piece. And the side dish he brought with him.”

It suddenly clicks for Dorian. “Ohhhh, you’re disappointed he brought a date?” Dorian smirks. “Aelin. Not everyone can be single at your behest.”

She crosses her arms, annoyed. This is why she wanted one more day to herself. She didn’t want to talk about Rowan and his stupid rude girlfriend with her dark hipster makeup and beautifully inked skin and brightly dyed hair. If that was Rowan’s type, she had no shot of getting his attention. Not that she hadn’t tried. With the white bathing suit, and playing rough with the boys in the deep end and overzealously clinging onto Dorian’s back. Still, he hadn’t said a damn thing to her until the party ended, and only by accident.

“No,” Aelin lies. Dorian looks at her, unblinking. “Stop that.”

“You can’t let one little staff member prevent you from going to the park. It’s Ashryver Playland, and you’re Aelin fucking Ashryer. It’s your park. Let’s go reclaim our stomping grounds. Please?” he begs again, his sapphire eyes looking up at her through his thick fringe of lashes. “I promise I’ll shield you if we see him.”

“Fine.”

Dorian’s blinding smile is almost worth it. She tells him she’ll be right back and runs upstairs to get dressed for the day. She might put a little more effort into it than she would for just Dorian, but there’s no harm in looking cute. She braids her hair into two French braids and wiggles into a hot pink crop top and her overall shorts. She dons a full face of makeup, finishing with a pink lipstick, and finally makes her way down to where an impatient Dorian is waiting.

He holds out his arm for her, smartly not commenting on her outfit, and Aelin slips her arm through, linking them together for the fifteen minute walk down the beach to the Playland.

They’re greeted at the ticket booth by Fenrys, who is working behind the counter. He blushes upon seeing the approaching pair, and it makes Aelin smile. He hasn’t been quiet about his crush on both her and Dorian, which she thinks they would both be all over if he weren’t four years their junior. He’s shockingly good-looking with deep tanned skin and shoulder-length golden hair. He flashes them a toothy smile and Aelin can’t help but grin back, her mood lightening.

“Ah, the king and queen of Playland.” He pulls out unlimited wristbands for them. “Happy Summer.”

“Hey, handsome, happy summer,” Aelin says with a wink as he tapes on her wristband.

“Aelin, when are you going to let me take you out and make me the happiest man in Terrasen?” Fenrys asks, and Dorian snorts.

“Man? You’re not even old enough to grow facial hair,” Dorian teases, rubbing his thumb against Fenry’s bare cheek. It blooms with a rare blush under Dorian’s touch.

“I just turned twenty-one, so, who knows? Maybe this year is the year,” Fenrys says as he puffs out his chest. He bursts into laughter. “Yeah, yeah. I know you’d never date a staff member anyway. No shitting where you eat and all that.”

“Sure,” Dorian smirks. “That’s the reason.”

Aelin grabs at Dorian’s hand, pulling him away and waves goodbye to Fenrys, ready for the day. Aelin leans her head on her friend’s shoulder, her heart feeling ten times lighter. She’s buoyant, actually. She skips into the park, pulling Dorian along as she makes her way toward their first ride.

They make their way toward the biggest ride in the park – the Firecoaster, a rickety wooden rollercoaster built nearly a century ago. It’s Aelin’s absolute favorite ride in the park, so they do it first every single time, despite Dorian’s constant criticism of it (it’s too shaky, it’s too old, why haven’t they replaced the cars in a literal hundred years?).

But as they arrive at the ride she sees a short crop of silver hair at the entrance, letting people onto the coaster. Naturally.

“Maybe we should come back to the coaster later,” Aelin suggests, and Dorian’s eyebrow lifts in question.

“You know I won’t go on this ride in the dark,” Dorian replies, and Aelin nods. She really wants to go on this coaster. But with Rowan letting people on, there’s absolutely no way to avoid him. “Is he up there?” Dorian whispers and tugs at one of Aelin’s pigtails.

Aelin doesn’t answer, still unsure of how she’s going to handle the whole situation. Dorian grabs her hand and pulls her into the line. With people piling in behind them, they’re immediately stuck.

“What the hell?” Aelin hisses, but Dorian simply shrugs.

“You’re taking back your ground!” he says exuberantly.

Aelin knows he’s right, but her stomach still feels like she ate a box of rocks with how heavy it is suddenly. She watches intently as Rowan performs his job, dutifully ushering everyone into the wooden coaster cars and making sure they’re safely secured before they take off. He’s not particularly friendly, Aelin notices. He's not the kind of staff member who smiles at each person with a customer service grin, but she does take note that at he makes sure to help the smaller kids in and out with one of his steadying hands.

The line moves far too quickly, and within minutes they’re at the top of the line. Aelin knows she should look away, but as she makes her way onto the platform, she keeps her eyes trained on Rowan. When he finally turns and meets her gaze, his dark green eyes widen slightly with surprise. Aelin swallows, her mouth suddenly feeling completely parched as they share a charged, wordless stare.

It’s interrupted by the last coaster coming to a stop suddenly on the tracks before them, and Rowan scrambles to attention to help the group exit the car. Dorian pushes Aelin into the first row of the empty car, and she stumbles forward, throwing her best friend a dirty glare.

Aelin straps herself into the cart, pulling the seatbelt across her lap and clicking it securely in place.

“Everyone, hands up,” Rowan says, and he starts from the back of the car, tugging at the seatbelts to ensure the passengers’ safety.

By the time Rowan reaches the front row, Aelin’s heart is pounding in her chest, and it has absolutely nothing to do with her excitement to ride the rollercoaster.

Rowan squats down and leans his torso across Aelin, his arm lightly brushing against the front of her overalls as he reaches over her to tug on Dorian’s seatbelt. Satisfied that it’s in place, Rowan pulls back slightly, his brows furrowed and his lips twisted into a thin straight line. His head is so close to hers, she can feel his breath fan across her neck as he exhales. Despite the hot sun overhead, goosebumps break out across her arms. What the hell?

“Hey, you’re Rowan, right?” Dorian pipes up, and Aelin sends him a murderous glare as the silver-haired man looks up with a suspicious frown on his face.

“Uh, yeah. I am,” Rowan says, turning his attention to Aelin’s lap.

“Aelin’s told me so much about you,” Dorian continues, ignoring his best friend’s death stare. “Maybe we could all go out soon? Since we didn’t get to meet at the party.”

Rowan looks perplexed as he adjusts his position again to check Aelin’s seatbelt. “Um, maybe? I’m kinda busy… with work.”

Aelin is going to kill Dorian. She shifts in her seat to question him, right as Rowan reaches down to tug at her seatbelt, and she accidentally throws him off balance. Rowan falls forward a tiny bit and his hand darts out to brace himself. It comes to rest on Aelin’s knee, the rough pads of his fingers clutching against her bare skin, and if Aelin weren’t restrained, she thinks she may have jumped out of the car in shock.

“Sorry!” Rowan apologizes, snatching his hand back in pain, as if she were on fire and he’d just burned himself.

“It’s fine,” Aelin says, her voice sounding breathy to her own ears. She’s positive she’s blushing all the way down to her chest, but she refuses to look.

“Sorry,” he says again, his voice filled with apology.

She’s about to reassure him again, but he’s already walking back to the controls. Aelin looks over her shoulder to get one more look at the man who literally took her breath away with a single touch, but she can’t think about it for long.

Because soon she’s flying forward. The wind rushes across Aelin’s face, swirling around her with each twist and turn of the coaster. Laughter bubbles up from her chest, and she squeals loudly as they hit the first drop. She closes her eyes and lets the ride take her up, up and away, making her heart race.

Just as quickly as it took off does it come to a halt. Aelin unclips herself quickly and runs as fast as she can on her unsteady legs, away from Rowan’s prying gaze. As soon as she’s far enough away from the ride, she whirls around and socks Dorian in the arm. Hard.

“OW!” He clutches at his shoulder.

“Maybe we could all go out soon?” Aelin parrots his words back at him. “What the fuck, Dor?! What happened to being my shield?”

Dorian rubs his arm, slowly stoking the pain out of his dead arm. “I was doing recon. Notice he didn’t say he had a girlfriend.”

“I hate you,” Aelin says, going to punch his other arm, and Dorian runs, cowering from her absurd superhuman ability to find the most painful spot to punch.

“You love me!” he shouts as he sprints toward the log flume.

The pair chase each other from ride to ride, making the most of their day in the park. Aelin only spots Rowan once more, after his shift change, taking tickets at the Skyflyer – a ride she and Dorian have sworn never to go back on after they both tried it in high school and puked their guts out afterwards. So, conveniently, she doesn’t have to deal with that whole situation again. Which is good, because it’s starting to stress Aelin out. She’s never this strung out about a guy. Ever. Especially one that isn’t single and is definitely uninterested.

By the time the sun is setting, Aelin is more than ready to go home. She could use a long soak in the bath and a good night’s sleep. But Dorian insists on one more ride. Aelin agrees, but only if Dorian promises to buy her fried dough with Nutella on it for dessert after.

Dorian’s smile lights up his face as he pulls her towards the bumper cars. Aelin might have a little too much fun crashing into his car over and over again.

With a scoop of Nutella in her mouth, Aelin sees a shock of silver hair, finally coming in for the end of his day. She watches as he crosses the field and makes his way into the employee break room, her eyes following the motion of his lithe body. God, now that she knows what he looks like without a shirt on, she can’t stop imagining the way his tattoo crept up his taut abs, over his wide shoulders, and trailing down the side of his muscular back. It’s not fair. Why did he have to be in a relationship already? She licks her lips, tasting the warm chocolatey hazelnut spread and hums in pleasure as she imagines licking it off other places…

“Elide!” Dorian shouts, calling over their friend and breaking Aelin out of her hormone-induced trance. Elide runs over with a smile on her face for the pair.

“I’m sorry I barely saw you both at the party,” Elide apologizes immediately, but Aelin and Dorian wave her off.

“You were celebrating. With Lorcan, right? Please say yes,” Aelin says with a cheerful smile and offers a bite of her dough to Elide.

“I actually spent most of the time with a friend of mine I hadn’t seen in a few years,” Elide admits as she takes the piece from Aelin. “She used to be my RA. She’s the best. I hope you met her.”

“Really?” Dorian asks. “That’s so much fun. Who?”

“Manon Blackbeak?” Elide continues, oblivious to Aelin stiffening next to her at the table. “She came with a new guy, Rowan. She’s his roommate. Isn’t that such a crazy coincidence?” Elide rambles.

Dorian looks to Aelin and mouths “roommates” with a smirk.

“Roommates?” Aelin asks, her voice tight. “Is that all they are? Because I got kind of a datey vibe from them.” Aelin tries to keep her face impassive, but can’t when Dorian snorts at her. Aelin has forgone subtlety today, apparently.

“No, that’s impossible,” Elide says resolutely with a shake of her head.

“Because roommates have never gotten together before?” Aelin asks, her voice haughty with ridicule.

“No. Because they both like women,” Elide says with a laugh. “Or at least Manon does.”

Dorian bites his lip and looks at Aelin. His eyes frantically connect with hers before looking back at Elide, who is completely unaware of the bomb she’s just dropped.

“Is that so?” Dorian asks, and Elide nods.

“Oh yeah. Manon is a gold star and proud of it.” Elide looks at her watch. “Shit, I have to clock out. But I want to catch up with both of you later, okay? Find me next time you’re in the park?”

“Yuppp,” Aelin drawls. “Bye, babe!” Aelin waves as Dorian practically drags Aelin out to the parking lot, his torso doubled over in laugher.

Aelin frowns. “It’s not that funny.”

“It’s hilarious,” he says, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “Here you were all worked up about your prince Charming having a girlfriend and she’s gay. What gave you the impression they were dating?”

“I don’t know. He brought a hot blonde to my house?” Aelin sighs. Rowan did introduce Manon as his friend. “Oh my god, I get it,” she squeaks.

“What?”

“She said this thing about keeping two of her nails short, and… I’m am so stupid.”

Dorian laughs at her, hard, and wraps his arms around her shoulders. “So, what now? Want help reeling in your man?”

Aelin smiles as she sees Rowan climbing into a beat up truck halfway down the parking lot. “No,” Aelin shakes her head as she links arms with Dorian again. “I think I’ve got it.”

~*~*~*~*~

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georgemackayhey · 4 years ago

Text

Worth Fighting For (Part: Two)

summary: You’re entirely certain George is the one. So he hasn’t got to put up much of a fight… but in a way, that’s all he knows to do.

a/n: Now is a good time to mention that I know nothing about boxing. My only refreance is a movie about mma and one nights worth of basic research. But all that matters is I'm having buckets of fun writing this! The angst starts to creep in this chapter. Let me know what yall think!

w/c: 4k

Part 1

───※ ·❆· ※───

It was the end of an exceptionally long weekend. You'd managed to throw together last minute choreography for the kids school play, taught a wedding party how to waltz, and helped a friend nail her audition for a foreign dance company.

It was easy as ever, with a broken hand. But everything else was increasingly difficult. You were still getting used to using your one, lame hand to do laundry and cook dinner. But at least you could still dance.

There was nothing better than pumping the music and moving until it ached. Until all you had to worry about was locking up and racing home to shower, and all the things you'd been anxious about all week had long fled to the very back of your mind.

But the weekend was over, and you didn't have an excuse to stay in the studio now that all the kids who came to learn were long gone. But you had a perfectly sound reason for taking longer to do you post class stretches. As you took your sweet time sliding into your jacket and switching out the lights, you kept your eye on the window to the hallway. You tried not to look too obvious, but there was a silly, desperate hope inside of you; to see George.

The gym door remained shut, raucous music thumbing from somewhere deep inside, as you dragged your feet out in the hall. You tried not to look like you were casting glances over your shoulder, or seem too disappointed when you found no one there. When the door to your studio was locked and your adrenalin from class dwindled away, you went on your way.

And while you tried not to think about the funny feeling you got in your chest at the thought of George, you shoved open the door to the parking lot. The sky was a bleak grey and a chill crept past your layers of brightly colored clothes.

"Took you long enough." A voice crept close over your shoulder, causing you to spin around with a gasp.

George was leaning against the stone of the building, the hood of his pale jacket up over his head, strong arms crossed over his broad chest.

"How's your hand?" He asked, like he really cared to know.

"Oh, I'm managing." You decided with a smile, happening to glance at George's. "How's yours?" You asked, noticing bruises on his knuckles that weren't there the weekend before.

George seemed confused, for a beat, before glimpsing down at his fingers.

"Oh, this is nothing." He said. And before you could choose one the dozens of questions you had, you decidedly moved on.

"What are you waiting on?" You asked in a nervous giggle, glancing to his car a few parking spaces away.

"You, obviously." George rose a brow and reached for his bulky canvas bag that rested near his feet. You watched his lean figure shift as he carried the weight over one shoulder and stepped closer.

"Come on, It's my turn to treat you to DeAngelo's." He explained, walking past you to his sleek vintage car. The familiar screech of the city bus caught your ear, and you looked over to notice it stall to a stop, before you followed George's lead.

The ride was quiet. You spent most of the time pretending to be distracted by your chipping nail polish. Even in his silence George was captivating. You couldn't be sure if he'd noticed you stealing glances at him as he drove; but every time you did, you wouldn't let yourself look long.

You couldn't be sure why stepping foot into the diner to get felt different. Maybe it was because you weren't alone. You were mixed among dozens of other dinner parties and the combined white noise of everyone's collective chatter set you at ease. You weren't as shy to let your gaze linger on George as he studied you across the same booth as before.

And much like then, your conversations started mildly. He asked what you were going to order, and you tried not to feel too embarrassed for listing off the same meal. But he grinned and said he was going to do the same. And right as your conversation opened up to grow ever deeper, you were interrupted.

"Miss y/n!" An excited, drawn out greeting rang from a small boy who was busy bouncing your way. You didn't need to turn to know it was little Louis. He was one of your most loyal students. And though you'd never say it to anyone, the small kid was your favorite budding ballerina. Perhaps because he cared so unabashedly for you, too.

All four feet and fifty pounds of the curly headed boy crashed into your side of the booth, his little arms reaching to wrap you in a hug. You let out a surprised gasp and turned to try and greet the boy as soon as you realized he'd appeared.

"Today was lot's of fun. Can we do more big jumps next week?" The boy broke away from you to peer up, big brown eyes full of hope. You chuckled a little and assured the boy you'd planned on it. That's about the time his mother shuffled over, apologizing for her eight years old interrupting your dinner.

"It's alright." You assured, sheepishly glancing over to George who was sat back watching on with a coy grin. The kind of smile that- if you were younger and less confident, might have made you insecure. But knowing the little you did about George, you read no mocking in his expression. Only something more vulnerable you couldn't quite make out yet. You wondered all of a sudden just how exactly to get him to open up, and wondered hopelessly if you'd ever get the chance.

"I'm always glad to see you, Louis." You grinned at the boy, still glancing up to you in the sweetest way. "He's never missed a class in two years." You bragged to George now, who let his grin stretch a little wider.

Then you got the good sense to introduce the guy across from you. You gave his name away, and mentioned that he taught at the gym at Fit For All. Louis mother seemed to light up at the mention.

"Oh, you're Geogre? You know my oldest son, Danny. He talks about you all the time." The woman whose dark roots were nearly longer than the dyed blonde bits of her hair gleamed, and Geogre seemed to glow, too.

"Oh, yes. He's always at the gym, it seems." George sat up a little, peering to the woman Louis belonged to. The mother explained that her eldest wanted nothing more than to grow up to become a boxer. But a shoulder injury at the tail end of highschool ruined his chances. So Danny traded boxing for running, and had completed several marathons since.

George said the guy was great at encouraging the kids who frequented Fit For All, no matter which lesson they showed up for. It was your turn to smile and watch as George and his friends mother gushed over the guy who wasn't even around.

When Louis was coaxed from your side back to his mothers he gave you one final hug and raced her to a table across the room. A silence fell between you and George once more, but it was more familiar than ever. George was the first to break it.

"He was sweet." George smiled, reaching for his drink.

"Must run in the family." You pointed out. "I didn't realize Louis even had a brother."

"Danny is a good guy. He always knows just what to say. Not only to the kids, but to me too, some days." George let out a little laugh. A nervous, slightly bittered chuckle. And while it made you realize a little something more about him, it added to the complexity of George all the while. This guy was going to drive you nuts in no time. You'd let him.

///

And that's how it started. Every Friday, around the same time, you'd pile into George's ride and one of you would cover the bill for DeAngelo's.

Sometimes you got held up, trying to help a girl learn her steps for the schools annual talent show. You'd find Geogre had lingered in and made himself at home on the folded up mats near the door. You caught his gaze in the wall length mirror and tried to hide your blush while you danced on.

Other times, he'd be running behind. You shuffled outside to find George in the middle of what seemed to be a serious conversation with a familiar guy around your age. It was Danny, and you were introduced for the first time like you'd been friends forever. You found the rumors about the guy were true, even in the first few minutes of meeting. Danny mentioned his little brother mentioning you nonstop, and said how he'd been waiting to put your face to your name. George ended the small talk by reaching over and nudging you toward his car.

The slight touch of his arm against yours made you feel different than the only other time he'd touched you before. The last was when he'd rushed in to monitor your injured hand. And you couldn't feel much of anything. But now, when George leaned into you, pushing you away all the while, your nerves seemed to dance on end. But Danny's pleasant goodbye tore your thoughts away, and you waved your working hand to the guy and hoped out loud to see more of him.

Then George drove you to DeAngelos for another week in a row.

///

You hadn't really realized how much time had passed until snow started to fall. Granted the weather seemed to change much earlier than it ever had years prior. But it changed all the same, and it seemed to draw attention to the tradition you'd made of going to dinner with George.

You sat in the same spot almost everytime. And you talked about the same sorts of things. There were always complaints shared, about the growing cold, and the things that held up your week. There was always some kind of exciting news to share, about a new movie coming to town, or the things you'd accomplished during work. You even spoke about things you hadn't been keen on discussing with most other people. Like your relationship with your family and the scariest parts of highschool. Because George asked. He asked you more about yourself than he ever dared to mention his own stories.

"When are you gonna let me come watch you teach kids how to throw a punch, huh?" You teased. George had lingered in the doorway to catch the tail end of a handful of your lessons, by now. And he was always done for the night, when yours ended early.

As you ate your usual dinner, he kept his demure smile and rolled his dazzling blue eyes your way, before changing the subject. And you wanted nothing more than to listen to him talk, so you let your question go unanswered.

"We've been coming here a lot." He pointed out, plain and simply. But the comment made your heart feel like it had grown a layer of steel , sinking ever so slightly.

"Would you rather us go someplace else?" You wondered in a light manner, trying not to seem let down at the possibility of ending your tradition.

"Course not. I'm saying I like coming here." George smiled, then added, "With you."

You bit back your grin from spreading too widely and let the familiar bout of quiet follow.

///

But the next weekend was different and it was all your fault. Your water heater broke on Tuesday. And your landlord called back Wednesday night to say he couldn't help you fix it till he came back to town next week. You had to postpone Friday's class when you realized you were in too deep trying to fix the issue yourself. And while you fiddled with the matter with your non broken hand, a deep regret flooded your system when you realized George would miss you and you had no way of letting him know.

You worried all evening at the thought of standing him up. You crossed your working fingers that he'd still be keen to see you the next weekend; and tried to accept the fact that since your tradition had been broken, the thin connection you shared with George might now forever be lost, too.

By the end of your next week, your landlord was still off on holiday, and had taken to ignoring your texts asking for help. How hard was it for him to call a local mechanic to send your way before he left to go tanning for the day, or whatever?

And as you bared another cold shower and grumpily hurried to head to the studio, your power went out.

"No, no no!" You whined, flipping a light switch a dozen times in a row and wishing and hoping and praying everything would come back to life. You took a deep breath, rushed to the closet where the panel that held your home's power was, and were disappointed to find flipping a few switches there did absolutely nothing. You didn't have time to worry. You couldn't let your kids down again.

Some of them were already lingering outside of the studio when you rushed in, stomping away snow. Little Louis actually cheered and dashed your way for a hug, like he did. You smiled, set at ease by the child's sweet nature.

Then you taught him and a dozen others to dance, and let your worries fade away for an hour and a half. George hadn't slipped into the studio when the clock ticked past your usual meeting time. You tried not to let yourself feel disappointed when your kids shuffled home. You only wrapped up for the day and started to worry over your situation all over again.

But as you locked the doors to the studio, Danny was making his way out into the hall, and George was trailing close behind.

"Hey kid!" Danny glowed, turning to greet you in the dim hall. You shot him a pleasant smile, despite everything, trying not to catch George's gaze. Because his expression was so familiar, now. And he was looking right at you in a way you realized he so often did. And you'd let him down last week, and you had to do it again, now.

He shouldered past Danny as the bulky fellow seemed to decide to go home. He gave you both a quick goodnight before making his way toward the heavy doors. Then you were left alone with the guy you hadn't stopped thinking of since the time he held an ice pack to your knuckles.

"Where've you been?" He asked, like he was much more concerned than disappointed. And while that was nice, it wasn't enough to stop you from wanting to cry a little. God you hoped you didn't look the way you felt.

"I'm so sorry I missed last weekend." You started, shifting in place, under George's study on you. "My water heater broke. Then my power went out. So, now I've got to go home and figure out what to do. I hate to miss another one of our dinners but-"

"What do you need?" His question interrupted your rambles to a halt. You held your breath and looked to the guy for a curious beat before explaining yourself.

"Well I'm just going to grab some things and find a place to stay. Probably just that Motel on Second Street. My landlord is such a-"

"The Second Street Motel?" George grimaced, like he had memories of the place he wasn't over yet. "That place is a dump. And they'll over charge you. Why don't... if you'd like... well you could stay with me." George's confident speech dwindled into something meek as he spoke on. It made you chuckle a little, the way he'd surprised you when you least expected it. And when a moment of quiet passed as you searched his stunning blues eyes, George spoke up more assuredly.

"Only if you want."

"Only if you're sure." Your smile fell away as dozen of nerves rose to your throat as you responded.

"Come on." He nodded, turning to the door in the same fashion he'd always do when you were headed to the one of the only other places you'd gone together. His ride to the urgent care was courteous. His company at DeAngelos was kind. And his offer for you to spend the night was an all new layer of generosity that made you feel the way you did when he touched you a few weeks ago.

///

He waited in his car while you used the flashlight on your phone to throw a few things in a bag. Between your toothbrush, your night clothes, and some things for the morning, you forced yourself not to think about what was happening. You just urged your feet to move and tried not to seem too excited to settle back into George's car.

He drove to his place in a silence that felt different than all the other times before. And when you stole a glance over to him, you could have sworn he'd just turned away from looking over to you. The thought danced through your mind till his vintage ride pulled to a stop outside a row of townhouses. They were just a few roads away from your own, in a quiet, bleak part of town.

George held open his front door as you stepped in from the cold, a baby blue backpack full of essentials in your clutch. And all of your expectations for what Geogre's home might have looked like were not only unmet, but left you with more questions about the guy than ever.

The home was neatly decorated in pale colors. Plants and picture frames decorated every shelf and corner, and the dish towel in his kitchen matched the tea kettle on the stove. It was reminiscent of a much older person's space, with a vibrant charm of someone much more spry. You padded to the cozy living room as Geogre disappeared around a corner, leaving you to think up a dozen more questions about the fellow you were determined to get to the bottom of.

As you eased onto the navy sofa and abandoned your bag, a light came on in the hall and an old orange cat came prancing toward your feet. You glanced down to the pet as it meowed up to you, and stretched to balance against your knees. You cooed, reaching to pet it, before the animal jumped into your lap.

"That's Sadie." George spoke, stepping into the room, slowly making his way toward the sofa. "I was going to apologize for her disregard for personal space but you don't seem to mind." He chuckled.

"Not at all, she's lovely." You grinned, cradling the cat like a baby as purs rattled her delicate frame. George seemed to watch on as you admired the pretty animal in your arms. And when you dared to look back up to him, he sat up a little, from where he was perched on the edge of the couch.

George said something about ordering take away from a place nearby, and you agreed with the condition that you got to pay for it, too make up for his kindness in letting you stay in his lovely home. And much to your surprise, when you realized it anyhow, you felt perfectly content waiting around with George, for the pizza to be delivered. He stuck to his end of the sofa, while you settled into yours, holding fast to Sadie all the while. You talked about usual things, and even laughed over some others, until there was a knock at the door.

George went to answer, as you trailed toward the kitchen, stopping in the hall to admire some of the photos on the wall. There were plenty of his family, or maybe just friends. And even some of George, dressed in boxing gloves, at who must have been his father's side. The older man who looked so much like George held up an award as his son stood by with a shy smile and messy hair.

George found you gawking at his frames on his mission to set the box of pizza on the table.

"This photo is sweet. Did you win this garish award?" You teased, turning to find George wearing a grin reminecent of the one he sported in the photo.

"I did." He said.

"But you don't really do this sort of thing anymore..." You spoke, halfway asking why in the gentlest way you knew that might pry open his closed off manner.

"No I haven't for a while." George said. He poured you both a strong drink, the kind DeAngelos didn't serve.

"Why is that?" You wondered, easing to one of the wooden paint chipped seats at George's kitchen table. You watched him take a sip of the dark liquid in his glass, as you reached for your own.

"It got to be too much." He said, easier than anytime before. Like he actually wanted to tell you. And you kept a quiet eye on him, hoping if you waited long enough, he'd keep talking.

And much to your patient delight, he did.

"I started going to Fit after school, when I had nothing better to do. I'd stay till close, because I didn't want to go home." George explained. You took small bites of pizza and listened on, eyes softly glued to George's every word. And as he ate, he told you that he didn't have a very easy time growing up. How his father was sick, and his mother was never around. How George never thought of his future because he was busy worrying about each day at a time. You could tell he didn't talk about it. Any of it. So you just kept sipping your drink and offering gentle encouragement for him to keep going. Because you wanted to know. You desperately cared to know.

George told you that on one of Bareny's regular stops in, the gym owner took notice of George. How he'd listen to the distant encouragement some coaches gave to students in the ring. How he didn't have the money to take those lessons and stuck to practicing on the mats in the corner. How Bareny noticed, and asked George if he'd like to be trained. How he took up the owners generous offer, free of charge.

And when you nudged him to keep talking by asking all the right questions, George explained that Barney helped him enter into matches that he won like an old pro. How exhilarating it was at first. But those nights would end and George would go home and he would hate it. You knew better than to ask why, as he moved on. You just hoped this was the beginning of him letting you in bit by bit. The first of many stories. You downed the last of your drink while George finished his pizza.

"Well you might not box anymore but I'd still love to watch you teach kids how." You laughed, watching George crack a smile across the table from you. He thanked you for covering dinner and you thanked him for letting you stay over. Then you launched into a sudden ramble about how stressed out you were about what to do, how it might be better to move than to keep combating your landlord. But how you didn't have the funds to put toward either of those options.

"God sorry I sound like a cry baby." You laughed, resting your glass in George's sink as he stored the left over pizza away.

"No you don't. You sound worried, and I'm sorry to hear it. Letting you stay over is the least I could do, really." George shrugged, shifting to face you. He stood a step away, keeping his intimidating gaze on yours. The kind of glare that might have made you feel small if you didn't know George. But you saw past the way he stood so tall and stoically. You saw more of him tonight than you ever had before. And that's what made you unsure of what to say next.

"I think I'll go get cleaned up now." You spoke with a gentle nod, heading to collect your bag. George showed you to the bathroom at the end of the hall before turning away and saying something about changing, himself.

You were left to bask at your reflection in the harsh golden light as the bathroom fan buzzed overhead. You dug through your backpack to find the nightclothes you'd brought along and thought of George as you stepped into the shower. The water was hot, pelting your shoulder blades with a warmth you hadn't had the luxury of experiencing all week. But you hurried along, mindful not to use up all the hot water.

When you changed and took a deep breath and peered back to the mirror, it was covered in steam. So you zipped up your backpack and made your way back out into George's home. Sadie was waiting patiently outside of the door. She wove between your feet as you took care not to step in her path before she settled to walk at your side. Was this some kind of dream, you wondered? Some kind of idyllic alternate universe, where nothing was the matter and the space you occupied was warm and safe and shared by the boy you hadn't stopped thinking of for months in a row?

At the end of the hall, George's bedroom door was open. A soft amber light shone from the bedside lamp you could see. George appeared into view as you were drawn to the space like a moth to a flame. He wore a tattered t-shirt and a pair of cotton joggers you'd never seen him wear before. His yellow hair appeared slightly damp and he looked happy, somewhere in the depths of his usually guarded expression. He looked at home.

Sadie brushed past your ankle, out of the hall and into the living room, leaving you and George the most alone you'd ever been.

He stalled in the doorway as you halted your floating closer. His eyes were softer than you'd ever seen them, sleepier; maybe.

"Right, well goodnight I suppose." You smiled, trying not to let your eyes rake over his figure. You could practically feel how close he was.

"Right." George seemed to decide, letting his eyes search yours for a beat before his glance drifted over your shoulder.

"I'll find you some blankets." He said, slowly stepping past you. But before he could drift down the hall you stopped him. Somehow, you spoke without even thinking, without even knowing you were brave enough.

All you said was his name, like a question. And that was all it took. George turned on a dime and kissed you. He crashed his lips against yours and tangled his long fingers in your hair as he cradled your head. His grip was the only thing holding you in place as you melted into a puddle, against him. When you started kissing George back, he moved one hand down the length of your side as he made one swift move to pin you against the wall. You couldn't help but let out a surprised breath, a sigh, a laugh of some kind.

George responded by kissing you harder, until you could hardly breath. And when you stopped kissing him back to do just that, you felt George's gentle grip against the exposed skin of your hip; tighten ever so slightly.

"Do I still have to sleep on your sofa?" You asked what felt like one dozen questions in one. Your fear of ruining the one in a million moment disguised by a lithe smile. George responded by letting out a laugh, his eyes nearly closing as he did. And when he was finished, he said;

"Come on."

You followed George to his bed, not daring to hide your excitement. He pulled you in with a smile, perhaps the broadest of smirks you'd seen him sport. There was still so much you longed to know about George. So many questions you were eager to ask, so many things you longed to hear him talk about. But spending the night sharing his pillow was a good place to start, you figured. You hadn't expected it of course. You never knew what was next with George. You'd only, simply, hoped for a next time. And with the way he looked at you now, and held on, you rekonned maybe he didn't want you to stray too far, either.

───※ ·❆· ※─── taglist: @haileymorelikestupid @maria-josefin @imaginesandyeah @queen-bunnyears @okaymackay

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vgm-in-irregular-time-of-the-day · 4 years ago

Video

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DAY 1850) Tron 2.0 - Credits Medley

Composer: Nathan Grigg, Wendy Carlos

Given that this is a medley; there’s lots of timesig changes but they’re more like unrelated sections from each other, often totally fading in/out or with ambiguous pauses, so I’ll just talk about each section separately.

0:00 - 1:29 is all just 4/4, frantic drums, crazy synth sound design, but no odd time really for this section.

1:29 - 1:44 i’m counting as triplets in mixed meter: 4/4, 4/4, 5/4, 5/4, 6/4, 5/4, 4/4. if you were to count those as 8ths instead of triplets it’d be more like 12/8, 12/8, 15/8, 15/8, 18/8, 15/8, 12/8 (replace the 8s with 16s if you’re going to be weird like me and count them as 16ths if you find x/16 more natural to think about for some reason) !

1:46 - 2:17 is polymetric! The syncopated bell-like synth ostinato is in 7/8, but the slower synth hits and most everything else behind it really are in 6/4. For a short bit before 2:17 I guess there’s some 5/8 polymeter in one of the synth layers also. Some other more ambiguous stuff you might be able to interpret as even further layers of polymeter but the point is like, yeah this part’s lots of layers looping in different loop lengths from each other on top of each other!

2:17 - 3:06′s at a bit faster a tempo than the previous section. Also polymetric but a lot simpler case of it. 4/4 in that metallic bell-like synth rhythm, and 6/4 polymeter in the beeps under it from 2:17 - 2:42

3:06 - 4:03, here it’s 6/4 through most of the parts of this that have enough of a rhythm to latch onto something, which only really happens starting with the echoy drums that come in at 3:31.

4:03 - 4:45 is interesting; this is taken from “FCon/The Root of the Problem (Combat)”, which is one of the tracks I have on my biiiiig queue of possible tracks to eventually post on here but never happened to ever post. I’d count this snippet of it as all 7+8, 15/16, but just being aware that there’s a constant four-on-the-floor “4/4″ kick acting “polymetric” to it from the bits at 4:15 - 4:21 / 4:27 - 4:34.

4:45 - end is all loose, but just 4/4 stuff whenever concretely countable

Hopefully I addressed everything important here! there’s a lot going on in all of these sections, so it wouldn’t surprise me if I missed an obvious polymeter layer or something and just didn’t realize it! Lots of these sections come from other tracks in the game too, so are in a bit different of a context musically from their amalgamation here. Obviously wild tempo changes between each section that i’m not bothering to write out lol

This is a great cross section of the crazy stuff present throughout this ost though, tron 2.0 is totally one of the most odd time/polymeter/etc filled game soundtracks out there. Part of that’s obvious influence from Wendy Carlos’s original score to the 1982 film being much like that (and this game borrowing a lot of the material she wrote), but Nathan Grigg’s style is always full of that kinda thing as well, and he only adds to that intricacy in his original additions to the mix!

For all those reasons I thought this would be a pretty good sort-of-sendoff for this blog i’ve been running for over 5 years...........

....so...

...!

...THE FINAL DAY sort of...! As I said many posts ago (https://vgm-in-irregular-time-of-the-day.tumblr.com/post/623135939348365312/day-1828-shining-force-cd-track-25-composer) [probably a better read than my post right now here today], this will be my final post that’s in the “1 song presented with a text post daily” format; I’ll take a break but I will eventually shift to talking about this again in (most likely) YT video vgm mixes, including other related content besides just the very specific odd timesig stuff in vgm too!

Thank you to everyone who has supported me all this time! ULTRA SPECIAL SHOUT OUT TO CHz who has helped me out with this blog FAR more than anyone could possibly imagine, he’s done far more work than anyone ever needed to do, far beyond my expectations to help me along with this. And he doesn’t get enough credit for that, this blog would’ve probably died a long time ago without chz’s help. Thank you so much CHz for all your assistance! Sharing me things you remember when I’m in desperate need of a new track to post at the last minute, uploading so much music for me, helping me organize so much, writing out timesig charts for me so many times, sharing overwhelmingly huge amounts of odd time vgm with me, probably even more than anyone else. So many other things all these years you’ve helped me with on here, I can’t thank you enough!

That said, thank you to EVERYONE who has shared odd time vgm with me (and this is like, a LOT of people, far too many to list, and i’m sure plenty would be uncomfortable being listed too, so i won’t subject this post to that).

I’m very bad at responding to PMs and other messages sent to me; I apologize greatly if i’ve left you hanging for months...or years...or forever. I’m just bad at that form of communication lol, but I’ve read the majority of what’s been sent and still try to keep as much as possible in my big list backlog of stuff to eventually post. I get excited and happy when I see people linking me new odd time vgm i’ve never heard and stuff like that; so if i’ve never responded or never posted stuff you’ve linked me here, please know that I actually do appreciate it even if i might not show it haha. I’ve honestly mostly only maintained this blog pretty sporadically and rely heavily on queuing everything in advance on occasion, rather than constant observation of it.

Once i shift to the new format of presentation i’ll still include the suggestions that’ve been linked to me, and stuff. I’ll maybe try to be more communicative in the future now that i’m not going to be bogged down by the load of keeping a constant daily stream of these posts. (though i probably won’t be paying too much attention to tumblr for a while during my break from doing this stuff)

thank you to everyone for every positive comment, every intent to help by sharing, and just...general inquisitiveness and enthusiasm about this THING i’m doing for no reason! This is all literally just me nerding out about my favorite combination of niche subjects together “proggy/mathy/etc music” and “video game music” at the same time as each other. I never expected this would get anything close to the following it’s gotten, but now occasionally it’ll get pointed out that this blog is me in some group i’m in or something and 5 people will be like “WAIT...that’s YOU?! I’ve been watching that blog for years!” or something; like i’m really startled by how many people follow this sometimes lol.

Really thankful for everyone showing interest in me just being me, having fun talking about things i like in music. I hope that can continue even if i’ll be changing what I talk about and how I talk about it!

It might be quite a while before I return to doing this kind of thing again, and it’ll definitely be a much less constant pace, but I think that trade-off be worth it. I’ll return to making posts here again when I finally have new stuff to post, big video mixes with animated visual transcriptions or WHATever i wind up doing (probably a new dedicated youtube channel for the new stuff too) and stuff! I’ll find out what that will be when I get there

Thank you all for everything!

THank you!

WOW

THANKJ YOU for all 5 years of this website being a fun place to post music i like inside of

BYE

OH WAIt here’s my twitter/soundcloud/etc links and stuff if you want to contact me in a place i’ll be far more attentive to than tumblr, since i won’t be paying attention to here for a while:

https://twitter.com/chimeratio_

https://soundcloud.com/chimeratio

ok now ACTUALLY BYE

THANK YOUI

(thank you part 2)

#vgm #video game music #tron #tron 2.0 #time signature #polymeter #polymetric #mixed meter #odd time #odd meter #odd time signature #irregular time #irregular meter #irregular time signature #uncommon time #uncommon meter #uncommon time signature

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devnicolee · 5 years ago

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The Chosen Ones (2)

A/N: I hate how long it has taken me to write anything new! But I am really excited about this series (hope y’all still are) so I am going to keep writing it. This definitely classifies as a slow burn FYI. But the timeline for the story is short. Hope you enjoy it!

Word Count: 10,603

The soft clicks of Asha’s sandals filled the silent halls of the palace as she walked toward her brother's office. Her early morning summons left a sour taste in her mouth and a disgruntled look on her face at having to get up even earlier than she needed to for their meeting with Lord M’Baku; but she begrudgingly obliged her brother’s request. Dark clouds stole the natural light that would have usually provided the corridors with a warm glow causing the journey to fill more ominous than usual. She didn't understand what it was, her inability to shake this anxiety she felt since Killmonger. She knew it was just her. The rest of the country and palace seemed to return to business as usual since T'Challa reclaimed his throne. She, however, felt like everything around her was changing. And that was perhaps because, thanks to her siblings, it was.

Though her life amounted to little more than an imprisonment, Asha had grown used to her simple, peaceful and quiet life cooped up in her room, the palace gardens or the library. A life as peaceful, quiet and mundane as the constraints of royalty would allow it to be, of course. She had little desire to change that and potentially destroy her family in the process. But now it seemed as though everyone else had other plans for her future, plans to make it the opposite of mundane, quiet, and ordinary.

Has the power of King gone to his head?

She wondered as she navigated the nonstop demands he lobbed at her as of late. It seemed as if, in addition to the powers of the Black Panther, T'Challa had another superpower: the ability to know when Asha had more than five minutes of alone time. She could not retreat to her bedroom for long before he was calling her to review treaties and paperwork, go over official requests from the Council or citizens as part of her new role as "political adviser to the King." She didn't understand why he was going to such lengths for a fake position, something that she knew only existed to make her feel valued and included.

Her smile brightened when she turned the corner to see Okoye outside of T'Challa's office.

"Good morning, General."

"My princess," Okoye nodded and saluted her before her body relaxed out of its usual rigid stance and a small but clear smile fell on her features. "He is expecting you."

"Thank you," Asha smiled. "Oh wait, I need to check with Nakia but you are still free for girl’s night after the state dinner, yes?"

Asha laughed lightly at Okoye’s look of disgust at the phrase "girl’s night." But it had become their tradition over the years, the group would get together after official events and parties to update Asha on the night's events, any new gossip and drama. She knew Okoye found the name and custom somewhat childish but she was a constant at the gatherings nonetheless.

"Of course, I'll be there."

"Perfect, have a good day, Okoye," she said before opening her brother’s office door.

Asha truly valued the relaxed and loving relationship she shared with Okoye. She was cold to almost everyone except the Royal Trio but she always seemed to have an especially soft spot for Asha. Asha was blessed to have big sisters in her and Nakia, people outside of the Golden Tribe to turn to when the solitude transformed from sanctuary to prison.

Her brother’s back was turned to her as she approached his desk.

"If your idea of being king is just dragging me out of bed then perhaps we should have left Killmonger in charge?"

He turned to offer her an eye roll and a playful glare.

"Too soon sister... too soon. My wounds have barely healed."

She lifted her hand in surrender before starting to sit down in the chair across from him.

"No, don't sit! We are not staying, I have something to show you."

He ushered her back out of the door and into the hallway.

The journey was quick, literally two doors down the hall to an office near his.

"The reason for this early morning meeting is to show you this," he said as he opened the door to a spare office.

Asha smiled at the childlike enthusiasm and excitement in his eyes. And so, she tried her best to hide her confusion when she looked around at the decorated office. It was beautiful, clearly he put a lot of effort into its decoration: the red and gold decor and gold-trimmed office furniture. But still, Asha did not understand why she needed to be there for this.

"This is nice! Will this be Nakia’s office?" She asked as she looked around the room, highlighting the only logical purpose for using the space. "Shouldn’t you have decorated it green though? For the River Tribe? Though it is the thought that counts I suppose. But next time, ask for my advice earlier."

The office was beautiful, yes, but certainly not Nakia’s style.

T’Challa let out an exasperated laugh, "You are one of the smartest people in this family and are still the most clueless. This is not Nakia’s office, it is yours. Your favorite color, paintings of your favorite place in Wakanda and by your favorite artist, pictures of us and Shuri, views of the gardens, your favorite flowers on the table?" he listed, finally drawing her attention to all the things that would make this office for her and not her brother’s girlfriend.

"Wait what? I mean it is thoughtful and beautiful but why do I need an office?" she asked bewildered as she examined the space more closely, finding even more personal touches.

There was a fireplace, which was not actually needed anywhere else in the palace. Little golden panther and rhinos found their home on the fireplace’s mantle. She even spied a picture of T’Challa and W’Kabi next to a few of the border rhinos, her favorite animal since a young age, on a side table.

"Yes, you have a real job now. You are cementing your place in the tribe. And as liaison with the Jabari and political adviser to the King, you need a real space to work. It requires an office. Shuri and I worked on it for the last few days, everything is reinforced with vibranium to make them fire-resistant by the way."

She snorted, "'Political adviser to the king?' The title and position you made up to make me feel included and important?"

"Every ruler has advisers, Asha. It is a new position, yes. But one with very real work to utilize your genius. You spent half your life cooped up in the library reading books. You know so much more than Shuri or I about our history, our allies and our enemies. You have a far better mind for politics than I… or baba, I imagine. A good king utilizes the people who know the things he does not. And so, as an adviser, I expect to see you in this office every day, understand?"

Asha rolled her eyes. First her father forced her into isolation and now her siblings were forcing her out of it.

Why is no one content with simply leaving me alone?

"Yes, my king," she answered.

"Perfect. This is a good thing, Asha, I promise. Besides, I also want you to help me figure out how to undo the damage father has done, help me with a project... change public opinions ab-"

He was unable to finish when Alexis poked her head in.

"Apologies my king and princess but Hasani is here to see you. He has been looking for you."

Asha's heart immediately sank, she lacked the will and energy to deal with her intended. However, she knew him well enough to know that it would invite further troubles to turn him away.

"Yes, please send him in. Thank you."

She went to the small mirror and quickly checked over herself and her outfit, refusing to give him any reason to criticize something about her today.

"Be nice, T'Challa," she whispered as she fixed the high pony her braids were in. She chuckled lightly at the look of pure disgust coloring her usually mild-tempered brother's face. "I will settle for a lack of open hostility then," she muttered after acknowledging his inaudible no.

Hasani wasted little time before barging into her office. He was aesthetically gorgeous, the epitome of the American adage: tall, dark and handsome. His face was pulled into a permanent scowl but he knew how to turn on the charm and pull out his award-winning smile when required. Aside from T'Challa, he was considered one of the most eligible bachelors in Wakanda. Women in the Merchant Tribe were in an Olympic-style race to gain his affections, to be the last one standing. His courtship with the Princess? A mere hurdle to jump over for many. Their relationship did little to curtail the women vying for his affection, nor had it stopped Hasani from accepting their advances.

"T'Challa," he greeted, not bothering to address his king by his proper title or salute.

If looks could kill, the young man's soul would have been halfway to meet Bast in person. However, her brother quickly recovered and maintained his cool, understanding that Hasani wanted a rise out of him.

Hasani knew the two siblings in the Golden Trio despised him. But it was clear to all parties involved that he did not care.

"Asha," he greeted her shortly. "I would like to speak alone."

"Uh, yes... of course. Brother, could we get a few moments alone?"

T'Challa nodded, "Yes, we have a meeting in 10 minutes in preparation for your trip and meetings with Lord M'Baku. Shuri has sent everything you need to get started to your tablet and beads."

The hug he bestowed was quick and the head nod in Hasani's direction barely noticeable as he made his exit. Asha was thankful to him and Bast for the out her brother just gave her. She only had to suffer for 10 minutes before she had an excuse to get him out of her office.

"Lord M'Baku?" Hasani asked disgusted. "Why on Earth would you have a meeting with him?"

Asha sat down on the edge of her desk, "I am surprised your mother did not mention it. He is a member of the Council now and he and the King tasked me with serving as a liaison to the Jabari as they integrate into Wakanda."

"I don’t know why those savages would want to join nor why T’Challa would let them."

Asha’s face pulled up in frustration at his bias toward the Jabari. "They are not savages. Living differently and valuing different things does not mean they are less Wakandan. And that is the point of these meetings, to lea-."

"Very well. Just ensure it does not interfere with our engagement announcement. My mother has spent a great deal of time coming up with a plan," he interrupted her, seemingly bored by and uninterested in her new project and job.

Asha went back and forth mentally on whether it was worth it to inquire about this plan. She knew she needed to know the details, despite not being consulted on it in the first place. But she did not want to prolong this or spend anymore time with Hasani than she needed to prior to their marriage. She always thought that arranged marriages were primitive. For a country as advanced as Wakanda, she could not fathom why her father would essentially give her away when she was too young to choose or consent herself. And now she would never get an answer. Though she supposed she would be ungrateful to complain, she would not find someone to marry and love on her own, not in these circumstances. But she knew she was not signing up for eventual love and potential happiness. These were things a marriage to Hasani could never bring her.

To her father's credit, he pushed off their official courtship as long as he could, citing her "illnesses" and poor health. She knew it had far more to do with maintaining his lies than her happiness. But she wasn't complain. However, months earlier, Elder Shani demanded he stop pushing and her freedom ceased.

The early days of their courtship were complicated, proof that the web of lies her father had weaved was not sustainable. Everyone else knew it, that the web would unravel eventually... everyone except him. Elder Shani was never shy in spreading her doubt that nothing was physically wrong with the young princess, that her isolation or the delay of their marriage was due to something entirely different. She certainly wasn’t the only person across the country who conjured conspiracy theories as to what was actually wrong with her, being a mutant was at the top of the list. She was surprised that the charade lasted as long as it did. But she guessed the palace staff who knew the truth also knew that her father was not a ruler to be trifled with. Underneath his kind disposition, there was certainly a figurative fire and ruthlessness that most people knew to avoid.

Their initial dates and visits were brief and supervised but still pleasant. She enjoyed his company, was taken by his thoughtfulness and empathy. He seemed perfect initially.

However, after a small argument about her not wanting to go on a date outside the palace walls, Hasani confirmed his mother’s suspicions that his future wife was not sick at all. She was a mutant.

Asha hoped his mother would call off the engagement, she hated mutants after all. But instead, she realized that, for some, greed and power were far more motivating than hate. Shani promised to maintain her secret in exchange for more influence and power on the Council and the position of Commander of the Wakandan military forces for her son.

It took little time for Asha to realize that any hope that the pair could be happy together was gone, that he inherited his mother's bias toward people like her. Now, of course, she saw the red flags as if they were waving in a sea of white... no longer obscured or hidden. His controlling nature, his abuse, his philandering ways.

He made it abundantly clear that he would never love her, protect her, or affirm her as a husband should. That was devastating to her at first but like she had done countless times before, she quickly accepted her fate. No amount of prayers or tears would get her out of this one. The chains of her obligations were tight and heavy, restricting her in a dark cell with no hope of escape. She wanted to hate him, cast him as the villain in all this. And in some ways, he was. But he was just as burdened by chains as she was, both pawns in their parents’ quests to gain or maintain their grips on power. Every time she saw him, that was all she saw: them chained too far apart to be any comfort to the other in that dark room for the rest of their lives.

"Was anyone going to inform me of this plan?

"I am informing you now," he answered coolly. "First, I will be your date to the Caanan state dinner this weekend. You will attend my mother's birthday party the week after the announcement, you will accompany on tours of the Merchant Tribe's provinces so the people can meet you."

"I-I was not planning on attending the dinner on Satur-"

"I was not asking," he snapped. "We are going. I need to begin meeting with heads of state. I trust you have something decent to wear? I can't have you looking like this on my arm. You should work out with the Dora before the festival, lose a few pounds."

And there it is.

Asha knew it was coming, the harsh criticisms and snipes. Every conversation was filled with them. It never mattered what it was: her powers, her appearance, her intellect. Every conversation was a battle and since she was unable to use her only weapon, she always walked away with the wounds and bruises.

"I did not realize I needed to lose weight," she mumbled, looking down at her body. She tried not to let his words bother her, after all this was pretty commonplace at this point in their relationship. She could feel the panther beating against her cage, baring her teeth, body filled with the desire to attack the person hurting her owner. But she thanked Bast that the bars around the monster were thick. Killing her intended would not help her case much.

"Well, you do. And I assume you will wear those to ensure there are no issues at any of these events? Do not embarrass me."

Her eyes flickered away from his as the threatening tone of her last statement settled in her mind. Physically, there was nothing he could do to hurt her and he knew it. But emotionally, there was all sorts of damage he could cause and he knew that too.

Asha nodded, eyes trained on the ground. "Yes, I will wear them. As I always do."

"Good, I cannot have you revealing your illness to the entire tribe and dragging my name into the gutter with you."

"Yes, I understand. Is that all, Hasani?" she asked quietly, desperate to get him out of her office, to be alone.

"Yes. I will see you on Saturday. Do not be late."

He got up without saying goodbye and stalked out of her office. Tears stung the back of her eyes as his words oscillated through her head. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling, refusing to let any fall for him.

Useless… an embarrassment.

She shook her head, not wanting to contemplate all the times she heard those words before or fall down the rabbit hole of painful memories. She took a few deep breaths, trying to bring her emotions back to neutral. She didn't want T'Challa to see her like this, give him any more reasons to hate Hasani.

Once she felt more in control of the beast within, she gathered her tablet and walked across the hall to her brother's office. She had a trip to prepare for and time wouldn’t wait for her to get it together.

***

Tuesday arrived faster than Asha anticipated and now instead of being cooped up in her library, she was zooming through the mountains toward Jabariland. This is a far more enjoyable way to travel here, she thought to herself, thinking back on her first journey there on foot. She enjoyed the views as Ayo flew them toward the Great Lodge. Immediately, Asha thought to the times Baba was out of the country and T'Challa and Shuri would take her out in the Royal Talon. They would fly around and just marvel at the beautiful landscapes of Wakanda: the rainforest, the rushing waterfalls, the vast sun-kissed fields, the snow-capped mountains. Every trip, they found a new hidden gem, a spot secluded enough for Asha to see but for no one to see her, the rare opportunity to experience the country she called home.

The mountains were the one spot they couldn't venture too far into so now was her chance. She did wish Shuri and T'Challa were there with her. There first trip here was rushed and emotional, there was little time to soak in the sights. But selfishly, she liked that there would finally be a place in Wakanda she could truly experience first. She looked out the Talon windows at the forests to see a fresh blanket of undisturbed snow covering every tree.

"We are here, your highness," Ayo called from her position in the cockpit.

Asha tore her eyes from the forest to her left as the plane settled on a small cliff. She nodded, a wave of nausea washed over her. Her anxiety settled in her stomach like a small ball as the end of their journey arrived. She was surprised at how quickly the ride transitioned from peaceful to nerve wrecking due to one simple sentence. Now instead of venturing farther into this winter paradise, she just wanted to turn around and scurry back to the comfort of her palace. The stakes were unbearably high for her... her first official task representing the Golden Tribe. She couldn't mess it up.

"Thank you, Ayo. See you in a few days."

She motioned for Alexis to follow her down the ramp into the snow-covered cliff. The familiar smell of ash immediately invaded her senses and the cold air hit her hard initially as she stepped off the ramp. Her body quickly jump started its own heating system, her flames brewing beneath the surface causing the frigid cold to become pleasant within seconds. She felt bad disrupting the soft snow, hearing the soft crunch beneath her feet as they approached a small group of Jabari waiting for them. She regarded the young man at the head of the pack with great interest, controlling her facial expression to hide her disappointment that a certain someone was not a part of her welcoming party. She shouldn’t be surprised though given the coldness she experienced from him in their meeting earlier that week.

"Good afternoon your highness. Welcome to Jabariland. My name is N'Danna, I am Lord M'Baku's personal adviser. He regrets that he was unable to retrieve you himself, he is tied up in meetings this evening. However, he will see you in the morning for breakfast. One of our guards, Kide," he motioned behind him as a stone-faced young man stepped forward, "will be escorting you during your stay. Anything you need at all, please let him know. This way, your highness."

Asha nodded, "Thank you!"

She offered him a soft smile before following behind him. Daylight was starting to fade, giving way to the soft yellows and oranges of sunset before the darkness of nightfall. She glanced off to her right and off the cliff her ship landed on. She could see the edge of the village below them and the wooden profile of a larger-than-life statue of Hanuman that held the Great Lodge up on the side of the mountain. She stood for a few minutes, just admiring the sunset over the mountains. Sunsets in Wakanda were unlike anything in the world, she knew they would be equally as breathtaking here.

"This way, your highness," he called again as he walked toward the glass door on the side of the Lodge. Despite her longing, she quickly fell into a step behind him. "Don’t worry, Princess Asha. We have sunsets everyday here, I will make sure we carve out time to see it. They are truly breathtaking."

Asha blushed slightly, her adoration for the view must have been evident to everyone.

"Thank you, I would appreciate that. We are just very excited to be here," she called after him.

"We are excited to have you. And we will have extra blankets brought to Alexis's room. The cold does take some adjusting."

She glanced at Alexis to see that the woman was indeed shivering, despite being wrapped tightly in a border tribe blanket. Asha nodded and thanked him before silence fell over the group again.

N’Danna briskly walked them to their rooms in the palace, only stopping once when Asha slowed down to see the gardens in the center of the Lodge. She made a mental note to find a spare moment to visit the gardens.

"You should meet the royal gardener as well. I believe you would like him," N’Danna called over his shoulder as he resumed his trek toward the residential wing of the Lodge.

"Here we are. You can go to the dining room for dinner if you choose. However, we are sure you both are tired so we completely understand if you would like it delivered to your room instead. Just let Kide know what you wish to order. Again, anything you should need, do not hesitate to ask."

"Thank you N'Danna."

They shared salutes before Alexis and Asha retreated to their respective rooms.

Her room was slightly larger than her accommodations the first time around. The bed was certainly inviting, covered with soft black fur blankets. The fire was always lit across the room, not that she needed it. There were gorilla statues across the room and a small one of a panther, which she guessed was added to make them feel at home.

Asha stared at the bed longingly. All she wanted to do was wrap herself in those soft furs, but she remembered the mountain of readings she still needed to complete to be fully prepared for tomorrow. She, instead, settled on the small couch in front of the fire and set to work, refusing to embarrass her brother or herself.

Her stomach growled slightly, making her consider going down to dinner. She wanted to have it delivered to her room but she knew she wouldn't get to see him if she stayed cooped up in her room all night. She couldn't deny the tinge of disappointment that he did not greet her when she arrived. She was sure he had better things to do but she wanted to see him. She hoped he was warmer today than he was the last time they spoke.

Wishful thinking, she thought to herself before redirecting her energy to the work in front of her, shaking her head slightly. She needed to push out all the distractions, immerse herself in her job, that was the only way she would be able to ignore these feelings... the only way to ignore him.

***

"It was rather rude of you not to welcome our guest earlier," N'Danna remarked as he glanced up from the pile of paperwork in front of him.

"I was busy, a day full of meetings," M'Baku responded casually, not taking his eyes off the paper in front of him.

"As yes, your riveting meeting with my father so you could listen to his many complaints about your leadership style... a meeting you had been putting off for a week but mysteriously added to your schedule just this morning. I know you just could not postpone that any further. That, coupled with your coldness on the phone calls with her over the last two weeks... you should be nicer to her, M'Baku. She was quite disappointed that you were not there."

M'Baku rolled his eyes, frustrated by his best friend and adviser’s need to stick his nose and mind every place it did not belong. But his ears did pick up on his last statement.

She wouldn't have been disappointed if she didn't have feelings for me... right?

"I was perfectly pleasant to her, despite being a low lander.

"Yes, you were perfectly cold and just shy of being rude to her. But you are right, disappointment does imply feelings and yes, she is quite beautiful," he added slyly at the end.

"I never told you she was beautiful! Stop doing that, my mind is not yours to pick at," he snapped. The corner of N'Danna's lips curled into a slight smile, knowing that his chief's bark held no bite.

"Really? I find that hard to believe given the fact that your mind is just an express train of thoughts about Princess Asha. Everything else is merely a rest stop along the way before you jump back in the conductor's seat. But I understand. Pushing her away to try and stop thinking of her makes sense. It is frustrating."

"You know your psycho-analyzing is not worth much when you are stealing all the information directly from someone’s mind right? I wish you would consider some personal form of policing yourself and those powers of yours. Besides, it doesn't matter what my mind says... she is taken, engaged."

"I cannot turn it off anymore than I can turn off breathing. But I am sorry, I know you don’t like it. Why are you so upset about her engagement if you are not interested in her?"

M’Baku cut his eyes, opting for anger instead of a real conversation with his friend.

"I can finish the rest of these myself. That is all for this evening N’Danna. Thank you."

N’Danna sighed, "You do not want to talk about it, I understand. But I am the one person you cannot hide from M’Baku, at least not forever. So it would not kill you to actively share every once in a while. Good night."

He nodded as his friend turned and left his office. M’Baku was as annoyed as ever. Two weeks since the Council Meeting, two weeks since he had last laid eyes on her and the tug he had for her had yet to diminish, despite his extensive efforts. He only spoke with her over the phone to avoid looking at her, he was cold toward her during those conversations, he invited a different Jabari woman to his bed almost every night, he refused to welcome her when she landed. So much hard work and thought into the simple act of dampening his feelings toward her. And yet, it was as if the moment her soul entered his home, all his hard work flew out the window as fast as the Talon left Jabariland. He didn't need to physically see her or be in the same room to know she was present and desire nothing else but to be around her. No amount of dispassionate sex, coldness or time seemed to change that.

You can't have her... and even if she was not engaged. You don't deserve her. Why would she want to be with someone ordinary? His subconscious whispered to him.

He sighed deeply. Why would she want to be with someone like him? There was nothing special about him... nothing extraordinary. He was perfectly average... a part of the group that was not chosen.

She deserved someone just as extraordinary as she was. Someone who understood her gift. And that was not him. He had learned a long time ago how to live with things he cannot change, and accept disappointments. He could do it now too. He did not have a choice.

He shook his head before burying it back in his work. This was the only thing that would help him move on and forget about her.

****

Early evening transitioned into night as Asha worked, checking, double-checking and triple checking the working treaty and paperwork T'Challa sent with her to iron out. She wanted to be able to answer any question he could throw at her, defend any clause or identify a solid solution. She knew that level of attention and detail would show the Jabari that the Golden Tribe cared, that they could offer ideas and then adjust to their way of life. By the time midnight fell, Asha finally felt prepared enough to rest.

Asha knew she could just absorb the fire in the hearth in front of her and have enough energy to not sleep for days but she didn't want to be up staring out the window all night. She watched the snow fall for a bit before deciding that she was too anxious to rest anyways. She paced, contemplated solutions before she realized that staying in this room would not cure her anxiety but a late-night visit to the library could. She pulled on her shoes and a light sweater and crept out of her room.

After wandering around for a bit, she realized she had no idea where she was heading. She was hoping to easily find her way back to the library but she seemed to be just walking aimlessly. She was so in her head that she did not hear footsteps approaching until they were directly behind her.

"Your highness?"

"Oh my Bast!" she yelped, turning around quickly to find N’Danna standing behind her.

She clutched her chest as she tried to right herself, slightly embarrassed for being so easily shaken in front of a high ranking member of the tribe and a few soldiers.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I was just heading home for the evening and thought I heard someone." he offered.

She was slightly surprised at the warm reception she was getting, the lack of confusion over her ambling around their palace at night. He didn’t seem confused or annoyed by it. Instead, he just eyed her with gentleness and curiosity.

"No, no. Please do not apologize. I should be apologizing, wandering around at night. It was rude of me. I was just hoping to find th-"

"The library?" he finished for her.

She blinked a few times at him, confused as to how he would know that.

"I am happy to show you before I leave. I was just finishing up some work with Lord M’Baku in his office." He motioned for her to follow him down the hall.

"He always works this late?" she asked curiously, wondering why he was not asleep at an hour like this.

Well he was not asleep the first night you met him either. A night owl, she thought to herself.

"Yes, our chief has always been a bit of a night owl. But there is so much behind the scenes work to rejoining Wakanda as you will see during this trip, treaties and such to draft, negotiate, etc. More than just attending a council meeting every month. So, he has been quite busy since the initial meeting. Likely why he asked for your help, we certainly need it."

It doesn’t seem like it, she thought to herself.

N’Danna laughed, seemingly at nothing. "I know, I know. It does not seem like it given his attitude. But you must excuse him. He can be rough and cold around the edges to outsiders, er… well Jabari outsiders. He is just protective of the tribe."

"Understandable. Well, I am happy to be here… excited to be here, truly. I do not want anyone to think I am coming here to change the Jabari. I am just here to serve in whatever capacity he and T’Challa need," she offered politely, choosing to ignore how the man managed to seemingly read her thoughts again.

N’Danna smiled, "We appreciate such willing-"

A door to their left swung open as Lord M’Baku stuck his head out of a door.

"N’Danna? Did you forget some-" his words faltered and he fell silent as his gaze shifted to Asha.

There was a pregnant pause as the trio simply stared at each other. Or rather, Asha and M’Baku stared at each other while N’Danna’s eyes bounced playfully between the pair like he was intently watching a riveting tennis match. A small knowing smile graced his face and he swayed slightly on his heels with anticipation, waiting for one of them to say something and seemingly enjoying their growing distress.

"No, I ran into the Princess as she was trying to find the library, I was just taking her that way," he answered, ending their misery.

M’Baku’s eyes narrowed, words returning to his voice and a knowing expression filling them.

"But the library is in the opposite direction? Did you forget where it was?"

N’Danna was not slick, M’Baku knew exactly what he was doing and he was not amused.

"Yes, I thought she would enjoy the scenic route," he answered casually, unbothered by the death glare he was receiving from his best friend and chief.

"The scenic route?" M'Baku repeated.

That leads her right by my office? He added in his head, knowing his best friend would hear it.

"The scenic route," N'Danna affirmed quietly, choosing to ignore the mental earful he was getting from his chief. "But it seems she is now in far more capable hands than I. Lord M’baku was just considering having a nightcap before retiring for the evening. Perhaps you can join him so he doesn't have to drink alone? You wanted to try Jabari rum yes? M’Baku has the best in his office."

Asha stared between the ground and M’Baku, torn between wanting to say yes and spend time with him and wanting to escape back to her room.

"Uhhh yes… if you are free. But if not, I will just find my way back to my room."

"No!" he almost shouted at her, his annoyance at N’Danna dissipating at the thought of spending time alone with her.

He knew it was pointless, what was the point in spending time with a woman pledge to marry someone else? He was dedicated to his mission to be as cold as he could but it was clear that was doomed from the start. His yearning for her only seemed to magnify, not shrink. He had not thought of anyone else but her all evening. He just wanted to be around her, learn about her, and soak up everything there was to know about her. It was selfish, he knew that. But he didn’t particularly care.

"I would love some company and he is right, I do have the best rum in the mountains."

"That is an offer I cannot refuse. Thank you N’Danna," Asha said, smiling at him.

He nodded with a smile, saluting M’Baku before briskly walking back in the direction he came. Asha stared at his back for a few minutes, trying to figure out what struck her about him… something odd. Not dangerous, just odd… it was as if he knew everything.

She walked into M’Baku’s office and immediately took in the smell. It smelled like him, which made a sigh of contentment almost escape her lips.

"Have a seat, please," he offered, motioning to the chair on the other side of his desk. "Apologies for my adviser. He has a knack for sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong."

He turned away from her, pouring her a glass and handing it to her.

"No need to apologize. He is very sweet... and helpful. He seems to know what I need before I even ask it," she laughed lightly.

"Yes, he... um... he has a certain knack for that I suppose. Well, let us raise a glass to new partnerships and new beginnings," he offered as he prompted her to raise her glass.

"To new partnerships and beginnings," she repeated before their glasses clinked and she took a sip.

"Many new beginnings for you. Are you excited for your engagement?" he asked. Asha paused before answering, detecting the thinly veiled bitterness in his tone.

"Uhh… yes, I suppose. Hasani is a good man, and will be leader of the Merchant Tribe. It is a good match."

"'You suppose...' 'It is a good match,'" M'baku repeated back to her. "Not necessarily what one would want to hear before getting engaged. What about love?"

"It is an arranged marriage… we do not love each other," she scoffed quickly.

Her eyes clamped shut immediately as she realized what she said. It was highly inappropriate to disparage her intended to another member of the Council. But there was some small part of her, a part she did not particularly understand, that needed him to know that this was not her choice, that she was a prisoner in all this.

"I-I am sorry, I should not speak like that to you as a member of the Council. Hasani is a great person. I pray Bast blesses us with a happy and prosperous life together."

Asha looked him in his eyes as she spoke and that made it so much harder. There was something in them that begged her to be vulnerable, to be honest, that pleaded with her to fall into the sea of him. And she wanted to... Bast she wanted to. But that was the issue with falling, the high of it was beautiful, thrilling. It fills you with inexplicable euphoria. But you never know what awaits you at the bottom: a calm oasis that envelops you in safety and warmth or the rough waves and jagged edges of rocks that end the thrill with deafening pain. Asha had no idea what awaited her at the bottom, in the sea that was Lord M'Baku, and the risks were too high to find out.

M'Baku let out a deep sigh but nodded, respecting her wishes not to be honest. But he saw it: the crack in her ironclad demeanor. He could tell he struck a nerve... the bright smile in her eyes that immediately fell at the mention of her engagement, the quickness of which she corrected him about the reasons behind it, the clearly forced words when she caught herself being too honest. But this girl's walls were high, and he was slowly putting the puzzle pieces of why together. It would take more than a few stolen moments in the dark in a library to break them down.

"No need to apologize, your highness. An arranged marriage though? How primitive. I would think the Golden Tribe would be more progressive. Are T’Challa and Nakia?"

"You would think wouldn’t you? And yes originally but they fell in love on their own, T'Challa encouraged her to become a War Dog... they drifted apart but love eventually helps things drift back together in the end. But things with T'Challa and Nakia were not as complicated."

"Because she is not gifted?"

Asha sighed, putting the glass down before responding, "Yes... it just complicates everything, every interaction and relationship. A nuisance I would not wish on my worst enemy," she muttered, more to herself than him, as she picked up her glass to take another sip. "This is very delicious by the way. Thank you."

He raised his glass in response. "So is that nuisance why you wear those rings?" He gestured down at her hands.

She sighed, "Yes. Without them... without them, I wouldn't be able to control it. I could hurt people, it- I am dangerous."

"You believe you are dangerous?"

She held his gaze for a moment, before it became too overwhelming and she looked back down at the cup of rum in her hand. She tilted the glass back and forth, watching the brown liquid moving around her wooden cup as she stared.

"You don’t?" She asked softly. "I could injure or kill someone without a second thought. You don’t think that makes me dangerous?"

"I think Hanuman doesn’t create weapons… I don’t worship Bast so I cannot speak for her but I would like to think she would not either. The Chosen are here to help elevate, advance or protect the Jabari and Wakanda. Yes, all of their gifts can be used as weapons when needed but that is their choice. Powers only become dangerous when we fail to foster the beauty in it. It seems no one has taken the time to foster the beauty of your gift. Perhaps that is why you feel that way?"

He doesn’t know what he is talking about. He has never seen what you can do. How you can hurt people.

"Perhaps. But very few people are willing to risk their lives for that, especially for us with powers capable of hurting others. Wakanda will never accept mutants, never consider them as anything other than a danger. Tolerate? Avoid open hostility? Maybe… But what you’re talking about? Respect, admiration... That will not happen in my lifetime. I can't even fathom what that would be like."

"Is that why you haven't read that book yet?"

Asha's eyes snapped up to look at her host, surprise coloring her face.

“How did you know?”

She didn't get it, how he knew her...saw her so clearly and vividly. She didn't want to admit he was right... that book that she had opened several times, read a few pages about the reverence the Jabari held for mutants only to close it angrily. The longing for a different life, a different custom too painful to bear.

He chuckled, “It was not that big of a leap to be honest. I figured if you read it, you have questions, want to know more about them. Since you haven’t asked about the Chosen yet, I took a stab in the dark.”

"I-I wanted to read it... I just haven't had the opportunity. I can give it back, I have had it too long, I suppose."

She avoided his eyes, opting to stare at a portrait of a couple across from her seat. She assumed they were his parents, both shared a striking resemblance to the man before her.

"No... I gave it to you. Keep it, until the opportunity arises." She nodded, refusing to catch his eye.

They sat in silence for a few moments, M'Baku staring a hole into her side of her face as she actively avoided his gaze.

"Well, thank you for the drink Lord M'Baku but I think I should retire for the evening. It is getting late."

"O-of course. Amari will show you back to your room." He quickly stood up and ushered her toward the door. They saluted each other before she turned to walk down the hall behind his personal guard.

"Princess Asha!"

She heard her name behind her causing her to turn around. She was secretly thankful, unready to say goodbye to him just yet. She turned around quickly, facing him again.

"I go on a morning walk every day. W-w-would you like to join me?" he stammered slightly, his nerves getting the best of him.

She smiled softly, having to bite down the immediate yes that almost fell from her lips. She knew it likely was not a good idea, spending more time with him would not help her. But simultaneously, she desired to be around someone who thought so highly of her.

"Y-yes, Lord M’Baku. I would like that very much."

He nodded before sliding back into the door frame of his office. "Good. Goodnight, your highness."

They saluted each other before she turned back down the hall with his guard leading the way, a bright small on her face as she went.

****

Asha tossed and turned throughout the night. She didn’t mind the lack of sleep except that the nights dragged on without it. She instead spent most of the night replaying her conversation with M’Baku in her head. She wished she could go back and relive it over and over again. She checked her beads every ten minutes it seemed to see if they were any closer to their morning date.

It’s not a date! She screamed at herself. Engaged princesses can’t go on dates.

Fine, not a date. A friendly walk between acquaintances? Friends. She settled on quickly. That is what they were… friends. It sounded far less appealing than how she truly wanted him. But that was all she could get. He didn’t feel that way about her, and even if he did, she had a fiancee in the way.

She huffed and flopped over in bed, annoyed with the voice of logic in her brain. She stared intently at the ceiling.

The guard told her that Lord M’Baku typically took his walk at sunrise. She waited and waited and waited until the alarm on her kimoyo beads, set to alert her 30 minutes prior to sunrise went off. She felt absurd, the way she nearly catapulted out of bed the moment her alarm rang in the still air once. But thankfully, there was no one around but Bast to witness it.

She threw on her outfit for the walk, a sweater, leggings and snow boots. It was casual but she paired it with some light makeup, like Shuri taught her. She still wanted to look her best.

She pulled half of her braids into a half up, half down style. She pulled her rings back on before examining herself in the mirror.

Asha never considered herself to be beautiful. She wasn’t ugly by far but beautiful? That was Nakia and Okoye… women that men sought after. But today, even she had to admit that she looked good. She adjusted herself in the mirror for one last moment before opening her door to find Kide.

He said nothing, responding to her "good morning" with a polite head nod before heading down the hall. She quickly followed after him, trying to keep up with his brisk pace. Soon, they were at the front of the Lodge. Two guards framed the entrance of the Lodge as Kide led her down the staircase to meet Lord M’Baku.

"Good morning Princess," he said as she approached.

She replied with the same as she took in his fidgeting hands, the way he moved his weight from one side to the other as he stood, the lack of certainty in his eyes. She wanted to ease his anxiety somehow but how could she when she felt it too? She just was better at hiding it.

They set off down a path to the left of the Lodge. A comfortable silence fell over them as they listened to the rustling in the trees, the early morning calls of birds. They stole glances at each other every few minutes but otherwise, Asha simply enjoyed the walk.

They walked until they reached a small hill overlooking a creek in the forest. It appeared to be a hidden oasis, a picturesque scene plucked straight from a movie.

"This is beautiful," she marveled as they approached the rocks that led to a cliff over the creek.

"I know."

He motioned toward a few large rocks they could sit on at the top of the hill. He dusted the snow off before she sat down.

“Do you come here often?” She asked as she looked off the hill onto the creek.

She imagined it looked gorgeous in the summer with lush green grass, full trees and a babbling creek.

“Yes, N’Danna and I found it some time ago. It has been a secret haven for us ever since. He comes more than me though, for the solitude. For when he doesn’t want to hear anymore.”

Asha perked up, eyeing his profile, wondering how much she could probe.

“Doesn’t want to hear anymore? What does that mean?”

M’Baku smiled slightly, “I am shocked you hadn’t picked up on it by now, as a Chosen yourself. He can read minds… his ‘knack for anticipating your needs.’”

“Ohhhhh.”

Realization washed over her. She felt stupid really, now every interaction with him made even more sense. She stopped the wave of embarrassment from washing over her as well, refusing to think about what other thoughts he picked up swirling around her head about his chief.

“He wouldn’t bring up anything he heard to you or anyone else, just so you know. But sometimes, constantly hearing is too much for him so this spot helps. For me, it is just peaceful. I know it should be the temple but this is where I come to pray… be one with Hanuman.”

Asha nodded, “When I was young, there was a statue of Bast laying in the Royal Gardens. I used to sit next to her and read or pray and it was the only place in my small world that I thought Bast heard me, actually listened to me.”

M’Baku sensed the sadness in her voice, the tinge of pain in her eyes as she spoke of the past. “‘Used to?’”

“I don’t really pray anymore,” she whispered, pressing her hand into a new patch of snow next to her. M’Baku watched as the snow around her hand immediately melted into a puddle of water, the heat flush under her skin too much to allow it to stay in its solid form.

“What kind of God curses children as Bast did me? My father used to call it an abomination. It is hard to believe… it is hard to trust in a God who does things like that.”

“What did your father have against mutants?”

Asha looked off to the side, her eyes trained on the tree branches weighed heavily with snow.

“He believed that Bast only ordained one enhanced being in Wakanda… the Black Panther. You are not born with it. By winning the tribal combat, by surviving the visit to the Ancestral Plane… Bast chooses you. Her power, her gift chooses you. You earn it. He took offense to anyone being born with powers he had to earn. It is the opposite of your custom. We were not chosen and so, in his mind, our existence is against her will.”

“If only you had been born here instead of with the lowlanders. Things would have been different.”

“Yes, I suppose they would have. But then I wouldn’t have T’Challa and Shuri… Nakia, Okoye and Ayo… Alexis,” she listed.

M’Baku smiled to himself as he saw her face light up at the list of people she had in her life. It was probably the first genuine smile he had seen on her face when she was talking about home.

Silence fell over the two as they sat, they watched the sun finish rising high in the sky before M’Baku stood and helped her up.

“My home life isn’t all tragic and sad, you know?” she said randomly as they found their way back to the trail that would lead them back to the Lodge. “I feel like it may seem that way, given our conversations but there is good there too. My life isn’t overflowing with amazing people, I haven’t really had the opportunity to meet many people honestly. But the people that are there… the love that is there… It is bright, it sustains me through everything. I wish some things were different, it is true. But all of them make my life worth living.”

“I don’t doubt it. I saw your grief, your relief when you saw T’Challa. I imagine there are few siblings with a bond as deep as yours. I don’t mean to judge your life or the lowlanders. I just believe you and people like you deserve more. Which is why I would like to ask you to do something for me as my guest here.”

“Yes?”

“I would like you to not wear those rings for the rest of this trip.”

Her eyes bugged out of her head as his request cycled into her ears and registered in her brain.

“What? No. No. I am sorry Lord M’Baku but I do not think that is wise. I could lose control… burn your house down, hurt someone. It is too great a risk when I am supposed to be here winning the affections of your people.”

He laughed, “You think you are so out of sync with your powers that taking those off for a few days would lead to a forest fire? You did not seem to have this many reservations in the library that night? Or was a room full of paper books not as important? You are afraid to truly let your powers show and I understand given the way you were raised. But you are only here for three days… You wish things were different yes? Here they can be. Why spend the next three days hiding when you have to go back to that when you leave? This is the one place in Wakanda that you do not have to hide. Enjoy it.”

His proposition did sound alluring… freedom for more than just a few moments. She was still hesitant though. She hadn’t been without her rings for more than a day or two since she was a teenager. And had she become so accustomed to pretending to be someone else that she forgot how to be herself? She never learned how to effectively use her powers, she didn’t even know the extent of them. Hell, she had no idea she could float, possibly fly, until her breakdown after T’Challa’s death. How many more abilities did she have that she didn’t even know about. Was now, as a guest in someone else’s home the best time to find out?

What other time or opportunity would you have? You certainly can’t do so at home. He is right, now is the rare moment to be free.

Her slender fingers fiddled with the delicate rings on the opposite hand as she looked up at him with eyes filled with skepticism. There it was again… that indescribable thing about him that made her want to fall. She could feel it too, every moment she was with him, he pulled her closer and closer to the cliff’s edge. She would pull back and he would be right there tugging her forward again.

He smiled at her, his eyes filled with mischief and delight as her fingers started pulling one ring off after another. Before she knew it, she could feel the tension in her body release, feel the panther slowly ease out of her cage. She took a step back from him as sparks and smoke emanated from her hands. She took a few deep breaths, regulating her body’s response until they stopped. He gave her an encouraging nod as he took a step toward her. It was not tentative or hesitant like people have done in the past. It was deliberate and confident, as if he was determined to let her know that he was not afraid of her.

“Deal,” she said softly.

They stared at each other for a few moments before they both noticed soft embers rising between them. She had only seen those once before, with him in the library, and now she wondered if that was her body’s natural response to the affection she felt toward him.

“U-um, we should head back yes? I don’t want your guard to think I kidnapped their chief,” she chuckled awkwardly.

He nodded and they set back on their way, their bodies closer together, hands brushing against each other every few steps. Asha anticipated it, longed for that brief physical contact each time. It provided warmth and comfort her body hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Before she knew it, they were back in the Lodge and standing outside her door.

“Well this is where I leave you. I will see you in,” he quickly checked his watch for the time,” two hours for our first meeting, your highness?”

“I will be there,” she answered as she pushed against the heavy wooden door that lead to her room. “Oh Lord M’Baku? I now have a request for you. It is just Asha. No your highness or Princess. Just Asha.”

A big grin spread across his face as he took in her request. “Ok then, ‘just Asha.” Only if you call me M’Baku.” He held his hand out for her to shake on their new deal. She started to raise her hand before remembering their previous deal and quickly clutched it to her chest.

“We will work up to that, yes?” He retracted his hand and let it fall back to his side.

“Yes, please.”

He nodded, giving her one last longing look before heading down the hallway.

“M’Baku!” She called after him, unable to let their last private moment for the day pass without saying one final thing. “Thank you,” she said as he turned around to look at her again.

He offered her another smile and a head nod before turning back around. The thank you required no explanation, he knew what it meant and knew it was unnecessary. He didn’t deserve a thank you for recognizing her humanity. He was just excited to realize that those high walls were coming down brick by brick. He wasn’t sure if he was prepared for what lays behind them but he knew it would be glorious.

@destinio1 @muse-of-mbaku @missmohnique @jellybean531 @afrolatinpami @archivistofwakanda @leahnicole1219

#Black Writers #black panther fanfiction #black panther imagines #black panther fics #m'baku x reader #m'baku imagine #m'baku x oc

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pixie-circle-au · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter One: New Home, New Friends, and Lots of Boxes To Unpack.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four (Coming Soon)

Content Warnings: Food [DM or send an ask for something to be tagged]

Words: 2037

Editors: Aqua (@duckswithbucks)

Taglist: @fandom-nerd-girl555 @justmeandmygayships

Notes: Here’s the first chapter! My goal is to upload once a week, but I’m not sure how that’ll go.

The young pixie stared up at the house, a bright smile on his face. His parents stood beside him, similar smiles on their faces. The family was glowing with excitement for their new life in Brookside— a new life free of the disapproval and fear that had chased them in Worshire.

“Patton, can you help your father with the boxes?” The feral pixie nodded, heading to the truck that carried the last of their possessions. The big furniture had been moved last week, so now it was just… everything else. The family was definitely going to be spending the day moving boxes. It wasn’t ideal, but they could explore the town once there were actually sheets on the beds.

By midday, all the essentials were done. Dinner was in the fridge, ready to be eaten. Patton and his father, Geoni, were sitting at the table, reviewing their packing lists, and crossing off boxes. Patton’s mother, Julia, was pacing around anxiously, checking her phone every few minutes.

“Mom, what’s bugging you now?”

“Oh! Dear,” she laid a hand on her son’s shoulder, “Patton, and Geo, dear, I’ve been talking with the family next door— they’re quite a lovely family—and I wanted to ask: would you be alright with them coming for dinner?”

Patton shrugged, “I don’t mind.”

“I see no problem with it,” said Geoni matter-of-factly, “It’s the fae one, yes?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Ah, then I’d love to meet them! Tell them we’ll make sure to have a lovely dinner prepared, I’ll make stew. They aren’t feral, are they?” Julia shook her head and began to type on her phone.

“Well, it’ll be nice to meet the neighbors. If you don’t mind, I have to deal with some personal items, call me if you need me.” Geoni nodded, rising from his chair to his full height.

“Come down in half an hour, will you? I’ll need some help with the stew.” Patton nodded before grabbing a box with his name and rushing upstairs.

Patton had already spent a lot of time in this room, deciding where everything would go. Still it seemed foreign. Already the dresser, bed, and a side table had been put in, but other than that, it was bland and empty. The walls had at least been painted a sky blue, the pixie’s favorite color.

He set to work putting up pictures of memories, posters of shows he watched, and decorating with nostalgic pieces of art and trophies he’d won as a child in various competitions. He managed to get through a good part of the box before his father called him down to help with the stew.

It was a pretty simple recipe, but it always got a ton of compliments. Geoni was an excellent chef, and was almost always in charge of cooking when there were guests. Patton didn’t share his father’s talents, but he could at least do things like chop onions and pass spices without messing up.

Pretty soon the table was ready with a steaming pot of stew in the middle, and just in time, as the doorbell rang.

“Patton, can you get that?” Said Geoni, who was putting ice in the glasses. The feral pixie nodded, rushing to the door. He opened it with a smile.

“Hello!” The family at the door was dressed in fine, dark clothing. Each with a yellow emblem of two snakes circling each other on their chest. There was a tall, serious man, a young-looking woman, who wore a warm smile, and a teenager with messy, shoulder length red hair. They all wore dark hats.

“Hello,” the man stepped forward, and Patton could see well trimmed red hair peek out from his hat, he extended a hand covered in a black glove to Patton, and the feral pixie took it.

“I’m Patton, Patton Talisman. It’s a pleasure to meet you, why don’t you come in?” The pixie stopped back, making way for the family to stroll in. Once they were all inside, Patton shut the door.

“I’m Ilani Sepentes, or Charity. This is my husband Hanson, or Disguise. And my son, Janus, or Deceit.” said the woman.

“Oh, ha, I’m Morality. I’m not quite used to using my fae name.”

“Ah yes, not every circle uses it quite that often.”

“Why don’t you come sit down, dinner’s already made.”

“Ah! Janus, be a dear and grab the pie from the car, I nearly forgot.”

The young fae nodded and rushed out to the car, coming back a few moments later as the parents were setting down to the table.

“Oh,” Julia took the pie, “How lovely, I’ll put it on the counter.”

“It was the least we could do to welcome you to our town. My son made it though, so thank him.”

“Ah, yes.” Julia stepped forward, “Janus, was it?”

“Yes.” He smiled, extending a gloved hand. Patton noticed that the son’s gloves were yellow, rather than the black of the mother and father.

“Thank you so much, why don’t you all take a seat.”

The meal started in awkward silence. The Talisman family was shy of the Sepentes [AN: it’s pronounced sep-ENT-ess], and didn’t really know how to start the conversation. Thankfully, Ilani spoke first.

“Me and my husband, if you haven’t heard already, are the leaders of the circle. If you didn’t live next door we’d probably be here anyway.”

Julia dabbed at her mouth with a napkin before speaking. “It’s lovely to meet you, then. I was considering asking about the leader anyway.” She paused, for a moment, apparently concentrating hard. “I probably should have figured that out, as you know, this is the Sepentes… pixie… circle.”

Ilani laughed. “Yes, our family has been running this circle for centuries now.”

“Say, do you host monthly meetings?” Asked Geoni, wiping the blood of his food from his hands.

“We host them the first and second Monday of the month at nine at night.”

“Well then, me and my son will have to show up!” Said Patton’s father with a smile.

“What, you’re wife’s not up to it?” Said Hanson snidely.

“Dear! Be respectful.” She sighed. “My husband was not raised in a welcoming circle so… he can be rude about things.”

Julia nodded. “Well, at least you aren’t going to ban my husband and son from attending pixie circle and basically threatening to kill me if Geoni doesn’t get a divorce and kill his son.”

“Oh god, did that happen?” Ilani’s mouth hung open.

“More or less. It’s why we moved, that and the manics.” She gestured to Patton, who gave an awkward wave.

Ilani nodded understandingly. Hanson huffed, and grudgingly said “My apologies, ma’am.”

The rest of the dinner went well, most with Ilani, Geoni, and Julia chatting happily, talking about Brookside and the Talisman’s experiences in Worshire. Patton made the occasional remark, but stayed mostly quiet, casting glances at Janus and his imposing father.

“What grade are you in?” Asked the son softly, turning towards Patton. The cat pixie looked up, and turned towards the other as well.

“I’m a freshman, I’m transferring into the high school mid year,” he paused, “I’m a little nervous to be honest.”

Janus smiled, “Nothing to be worried about. I’m a freshman too, and I have friends in freshman year. There’s Virgil--he’s a shadow elf-- and Remus, he’s human.”

“You're really friends with humans?”

“I’d figure you’d get it, you know, since your mom is one.”

“Ha, yeah, I guess. I’ve just always been told not to be friends with humans, in case they find you, you know.”

“That’s fair I guess. Human or not, do you want to meet them? It’d be nice to start off your life in a new town with some friends.”

“Yeah, I guess that's good.”

“Cool, you can hang out with us sometime before school starts maybe?”

“Sure.” Patton smiled. He was nervous, as he didn’t really have friends in his old town. The life of a fae with a human parent, I guess. After everyone had eaten, Patton was charged with cleaning up and bringing out the pie. The jovial chatter between the three adults continued, with Hanson even jumping in a bit.

“Is everyone done with dessert?” asked Julia.

Positive murmurs rose around the table.

“Alright. Patton, why don’t you talk with Janus and clean up? The adults want to talk in the living room.” The feral pixie nodded as the four adults headed into the sparse living room, which had yet to be decorated.

“So what do you do here in Brookside?” Said Patton, gathering the dishes. Janus stood, picking up the rest of the pie.

“Oh, you know. The woods are pretty fun to walk around in. There’s a couple of ice cream shops. Me and the boys go roller skating once a month.”

“‘You and the boys’?” Patton chuckled.

“Yeah, ha. I’m friends with Remus and Virgil, but those two also bring along Roman and sometimes Logan, although I think they just feel bad for Logan.”

Patton smiled. “What are Remus and Virgil like?”

“Well you’ll meet them,” Janus pulled some ceran wrap out of the cupboard and began wrapping up the pie, “But I guess I should warn you. Virgil is nice, but he’s really anxious and shy, it’ll take you a bit to get close to him. When you first meet him though, and he doesn’t say a single word and just mopes in the corner, well, he looks like he’s ready to shoot you dead. Heh, he prolly could. Remus is… the exact opposite. He’s got this gorgeous face, I mean like gorgeous. He looks all sweet and kind and… he is nothing like that, lord. He’s got a very… wild imagination.”

“How long have you all known each other?”

“Well me and Virgil have been friends for a few years, seeing as we’re both fae, but Remus we met freshman year.”

Patton began wiping down the table, “So, your parents run the circle. What’s that like?”

Janus paused, seemingly thinking. “It’s alright I guess. It does mean I have to go to every single god damn meeting.”

“Language!”

Janus smiled, “Wow, what vulgar language I just used, oh golly,” he snickered, “Sorry, I’ll try not to curse.”

Patton smiled satisfactorily.

“But yeah, it’s not much except for the professional stuff. And I mean, if my older sister doesn’t take over, I’ll have to run it. I’m gonna have some place in leadership either way, but at least if she takes over I won’t be full time. She’s a lot more suited anyway. And I mean it’s not like my parents are close to retirement any-- sorry for rambling, ha.”

“It’s alright,” Patton smiled. “Wanna go upstairs? I think we’re bugging the adults.”

“Sure.”

The two headed up the stairs into Patton’s room, still only partially decorated. Janus looked around, smiling at the decorations already up. “I’m almost done with this room, just have a bit more to do.” The feral pixie placed the box on his bed, and Janus took a seat.

“This…” Patton pulled out a poster, “Is my favorite band. They aren’t together anymore but, I still like them. You can find their music on the web though.” The poster had a painting of a wolf on it and said ‘Timber at Dawn’.

“Wow, that’s nice.”

“Yeah, I have CDs of three of their albums, and records of all of them. My record player broke though.” The feral pixie took the records and stashed them before preparing to hand the poster.

“I have a record player, you can come to my house sometime and we can listen to them.”

“Really?” Patton smiled excitedly. It’d been nearly a year since he’d been able to listen to those albums.

“Yeah.”

The two spent the next hour chatting while Patton decorated his room. They talked about music, and clothing, and a dozen other meaningless things. They barely noticed any time had passed before Hanson was calling Janus to come down to leave.

“I’ll walk you out, but uh, do you want my number.”

“I would have forgotten. Trade numbers?”

The two entered their numbers into the other’s phones before rushing down the stairs. The group exchanged goodbyes, and soon the house was quiet again. Patton slept well last night, excited for a new life in Brookside.

#yo seff original #ts deceit #deceit sanders #ts janus #janus sanders #ts patton #patton sanders #ts morality #morality sanders #patton #thomas sanders #sanders sides #ts sides #fanfiction

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swanbedandchill · 4 years ago

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A Tale of Two Theatre Kids

Sophomore student, Phoenix gets the leading female role in her high school's production of, "Faust." Phoenix meets a fellow junior student named, Winslow, who's serving as the undertstudy for the original set instrumentalist. The two meet by duetting a song together, that has a very special place in both their hearts.

This is my first ever fanfic for Phantom of the Paradise, which I recently watched for the first time, and instantly fell in love with it! But I hope whoever reads this enjoys it. Hopefully I will be able to write more for this soon. :)

“Faust” the musical for two nights only! April 19-20 at 8:00-10:30.

Some of the signs read, that were posted up on the walls of Webber High School, reminding everyone about the school’s production of the rock musical “Faust.” Which sophomore student Phoenix had the leading female role in, and she couldn’t be any more excited about it. At first, she wasn’t too sure if she was good enough to get any role in the play, let alone the lead! But she did, and Phoenix was so looking forward to opening night. And she couldn’t help but smile proudly each time she saw her named printed on the cast list part of the production posters.

It was sometime after school when Phoenix and the other Faust cast members were to stay after for the second to last final acting, and dressing rehearsals. Phoenix greeted some of her co-stars as she passed by them, which some responded kindly, but there were others who weren’t too happy that she got the role as the lead female. Phoenix was always known to be the quiet type, but with a strong voice, and a strong passion for singing. She always kept to herself, and never encouraged any of the gossip, or drama that happened within the school walls. But the main reason why some of the girls in their theatre class acted so jealous, and bitter towards her, was because not only did Phoenix get to be the leading lady, but it also meant that she would not only have plenty of scenes with Swan, but would also have to play his love interest.

Swan was a popular junior boy at their high school. Being brought up from a rich family background, who had a very strong run, and high status in their theatre classes since his freshmen year there. Swan ironically also had a thing for Phoenix, which a lot of girls of course questioned, for they didn’t see her as the, “type that people would want to win or chase after.” Phoenix discovered Swan’s feelings towards her, despite their popularity statuses in school, sometime after she’d found out she had a part in the play. Swan often liked to hit on her by giving her compliments for her singing, or tell her how pretty she looked. Although she didn’t have any feelings for him to give to him in return. Phoenix tried her best to give him the hint that she wasn’t interested by simply telling him, “thank you,” or by trying to completely avoid him after rehearsals. Especially if they’ve just finished an intimate scene together.

But, unfortunately for Phoenix, Swan had a weird thing for girls who liked to play hard to get. And avoiding him was going to be a lot harder than she thought...

Phoenix made her way inside one of the shared dressing rooms, there were a few other girls already inside who were fixing their costumes and makeup on, while conversating with each other. They kindly greeted Phoenix when she’d entered the room. Phoenix greeted them back, before sitting her school bag down on one of the chairs, and extracted her song folder that had all of the lyrics to the play in it. She flipped through some of the pages before finally deciding on rehearsing the song, “Old Souls” first.

Everyone had fifty minutes to ready themselves, and now had at least thirty minutes before rehearsals began. Phoenix, who had just gotten fixed in her costume, which was a beautiful majestic white dress with sheer sleeves, and some silver pearls. As Phoenix made her way out of her dressing room, she noticed that Swan had already arrived to rehearsals. Usually he showed up fashionably late. On purpose... But nope, here he was talking to some very giggly flirtatious girls, and showing off in front of his other male co-stars. Phoenix didn’t want to have to deal with him right now, so she quickly held up her folder to cover her face with it, before turning around and making her way to the backstage area.

Phoenix made it backstage and away from the crowd, and began to hear what sounded like someone playing the piano on stage. She heard a voice singing along to the smooth melody, but it wasn’t any voice that she’d recognized.

“I was not myself last night couldn't set things right with apologies or flowers Out of place as a cryin' clown who could only frown and the play went on for hours And as I lived my role, I swore I'd sell my soul for one love Who would stand by me and give me back the gift of laughter One love who would stand by me and after making love we'd...”

Dream a bit of style We'd dream a bunch of friends Dream each other's smile And dream it never ends...”

Phoenix closed her eyes for a moment, as she took in the sweet sounds of the mysterious singer working their magic on the keys. Phoenix finally decided to see who it was making that sound, peaking her head from behind the curtains. Winslow Leach, a boy with shoulder-length dirty blonde hair, wearing thick glasses, and basic clothing. He seemed so plain and average looking, but had all of the true talent and potential to make up for it.

Phoenix also took notice to the fact that Winslow was playing the title song, “Faust” as he worked his fingers skillfully on the piano keys. And she had to admit that his version sounded a lot better, and far more natural than how Swan sang it.

“I was not myself last night in the morning light I could see the change was showing Like a child who was always poor reaching out for more I could feel the hunger growing And as I lost control, I swore I'd sell my soul for one love Who would sing my song and fill this emptiness inside me One love who would sing my song and lay beside me while we'd...

Dream a bit of style We'd dream a bunch of friends Dream each other's smile And dream it never ends...”

Phoenix smiled blissfully as he continued to sing, and it all seemed so strange to her. “Who was this guy? Had he always been a part of theatre classes? And why haven’t I seen him around before?” She thought to herself, and she also assumed that he had to have been a senior, or at least a junior. Winslow seemed so skilled at what he was doing, or maybe he was just that talented. Either way, Phoenix knew that she had to know more about him.

“All my dreams are lost and I can't sleep And sleep alone could ease my mind All my tears have dried and I can't weep Old emotions may they rest in peace and dream, dream a bunch of friends Rest in peace, and dream, dream it never ends...”

Winslow sang the final words of the song, happily smiling to himself as he did so. Phoenix really wanted to applaud him, but didn’t want disturb him. So instead she just watched him curiously as he reached for the sheet music that he had propped up on the placeholder, before sitting it on top of the piano, and began to play a different song that he knew by heart. Winslow began playing the title song to, “The Phantom of the Opera.” Which is a song made for two people to sing together as a duet. Phoenix gasped when she heard him playing that familiar tune. The Phantom of the Opera was Phoenix’s favorite musical, and how ironic it was that this boy was playing it. The music sounded a bit odd, since the original music is typically played on an organ, but nevertheless, Winslow was making it work. Phoenix couldn’t keep silent anymore, and out of nowhere started singing the first verse to the song, which is sung by the lead female character, Christine in the musical.

[Phoenix]

"In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came. That voice which calls to me, and speaks my name. And no I Dream again? For now I find. The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind...”

Winslow was startled at first by the sudden female voice that began singing out of nowhere. But to him the voice sounded so beautiful and unique, that he found it difficult to stop playing the instrumental music in the background for whoever was singing along to it. Winslow wanted to turn around to see who it was, but decided that it was best to keep things a mystery, just like in the actual musical itself. And now it was his turn to sing the male verse in the song, which is sung by the Phantom character.

[Winslow]

“Sing once again with me our strange duet My power over you grows stronger yet. And though you turn from me, to glance behind. The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your mind...”

Phoenix smiled as she could feel the power of the music in the tone of Winslow’s voice possessing her, they were practically reenacting the scene where the Phantom takes Christine to his lair, together. It made her wish that their school had decided to go with The Phantom of the Opera, rather than the one that they’d already been rehearsing, and working hard for to make happen. Phoenix and Winslow continued to mysteriously play along with each other, as they continued to sing their verses.

[Phoenix]

Those who have seen your face, draw back in fear. I am the mask you wear...”

[Winslow]

“It’s me they hear...”

[Both]

“Your/my spirit and my/your voice, in one combined The Phantom of the Opera is there Inside my/your mind...”

Phoenix held her hands over where her heart would be located, after they’d completed a verse together. Winslow’s smiled grew after his voice and Phoenix’s finally consummated together for the song, encouraging him to keep going, and give it his all as if he were performing for an actual live audience. And not just any audience in a school auditorium, someplace like Carnegie Hall, or some other grand theatre. Phoenix emerged herself from behind the curtains, and started walking towards him, but slowly for the anticipation.

[Winslow]

"In all your fantasies, you always knew. That man and mystery...”

[Phoenix]

“Were both in you...”

[Both]

“And I’m this labyrinth, where night is blind. The Phantom of the Opera is here/there.

Inside my/your mind...”

[Winslow]

“Sing my angel of music...!”

[Phoenix]

“He’s there, the Phantom of the Opera...”

Phoenix started to vocalize her way through to the end of the song, with Winslow encouraging her in character, as she made her way closer and closer towards him.

[Winslow]

“Sing! Sing for me Sing, my Angel of Music! Sing for me...!”

Winslow commanded, as Phoenix hit the final high note, and finally made her way in front of him, so he could finally see the face that belonged to the beautiful voice. And was indeed met with a face that was just as beautiful as her voice.

Winslow couldn’t help but stare at her in awe and amazement, as his hands slowly left the piano keys. Phoenix just chuckled from his reaction, both of them not knowing what to say to each other in that moment. It didn’t take long before Winslow finally realized that he’d been staring at her that whole time, and awkwardly turned his head away from her for a moment to get himself together. Clearing his throat, and adjusting his glasses as he did so.

“Oh! Um... I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean to stare... It’s just that I wasn’t expecting... Um... Hi, I'm Winslow. Winslow Leach.”

Winslow stammered out with an awkward smile, and Phoenix couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction.

“Hi, I'm Phoenix, Phoenix Harper. And I think you have an amazing voice, Winslow.”

Phoenix smiled and said politely. Winslow couldn’t help but smile, and blush a little at her compliment towards him.

“Oh, well thank you, Phoenix. And I can say the same to you too, no wonder you got the leading lady role as Gretchen. You definitely deserved it.”

Winslow complimented back, and now it was Phoenix’s turn to start blushing.

“Well I'm glad someone thinks so, since not too many people were happy to hear that I got the part as the leading lady.”

Phoenix said with a hint of sadness in her voice, as she thought about the mean and unnecessary rude things her theatre peers have said to her.

“Well, forget about them. They’re just jealous of you.”

Winslow said defensively, and Phoenix just smiled and nodded politely.

“Thanks, and I've learned to just do me, and not pay any attention to them.”

“That’s good to hear.”

The two just smiled for a moment, not knowing what else to say to each other as that awkward, and shy tension started to build up again. Until Phoenix finally spoke up.

“So, Winslow, I didn't know that you were in theatre classes. I mean... I haven’t really seen you around, until now of course.”

“That’s because I'm sort of the understudy for the person who was originally set to play piano for the play. And since Sebastian, the set piano player couldn’t be here, I stepped in for the job.”

“And what happened to the last player, Sebastian?”

“I think they said he got sick with food poisoning... Or something like that at least.”

Winslow couldn't help but chuckle at that, and Phoenix couldn’t help but do the same.

“Well, we’re all happy to have you here with us then, Winslow. I know I am.”

Phoenix said sincerely, with a warm smile spread across her face. Winslow smiled that same genuine smile as he moved his head around slightly, so he could cover some of his hair over his face, to hide the fact that he was blushing pink.

“And I'm happy to be playing for you all. For you, Phoenix.”

The two laughed a little at each other’s small yet kind words to each other, before things grew silent and awkward again between the two.

“Hey, Winslow, I know rehearsals don’t officially start until fifteen more minutes, but would you mind practicing with me for a little while? Just the two of us.”

Phoenix asked. Despite his nerdy appearance, there was something about him that she found really attractive. Maybe it was his talent, or maybe it was his charm, but all Phoenix knew was that she wanted to spend more time with him.

Winslow was more than happy, and quick to answer that question. Wanting to spend more time getting to know Phoenix, and to just spend more time with her in general. Just the two of them together.

“Sure! I would like that very much.”

Winslow smiled up at her, before gesturing for her to take a seat right next to him at the piano. Phoenix did so, giggling a little like the giddy school girl that she was turning into for him. Winslow gave her a look that asked her if she was ready to begin, which Phoenix just smiled and nodded a yes, before Winslow started playing the instrumental to, “Old Souls.”

“Our love is an old love baby it's older than all our years I have seen in strange young eyes familiar tears We're old souls in a new life baby They gave us a new life to live and learn Some time to touch old friends and still return...”

As Phoenix sang, and Winslow worked his fingers on the keys, Swan, who had been watching them for quite a while from the backstage curtains, gave them both a menacing stare. More so towards Winslow, who had Phoenix willing singing and interacting with him, two of the things that Swan always failed to do with her. The sight of the two happily making the music come alive together, only made Swan feel increasingly jealous, and annoyed at the two. Swan just knew that he wasn’t going to let some nerdy loner take away his girl, and he planned on doing something about it too. Swan smiled, before silently making his way back to his dressing room, thinking to himself that Phoenix will be his by opening night.

#Phantom of the Paradise #music #musicals #1970s #vintage #parody #fanfic #winslow leach #Phoenix #Paul Williams #Winslow x Phoenix

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queerchoicesblog · 5 years ago

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The Birthday Party (SC Titanic, Zetta x Adele Series, Ch. 10/1)

Due to technical issues, Chapter 10 is out today: apologies for the delay! Part 2 featuring the James confrontation will be out later today as planned so stay tuned!

Little disclaimer-favor: if you do enjoy it, please consider supporting the author & sharing this. A little gesture that means a lot!

Word Count: 3000+

Zetta x Adele Tag: @storyscaped @storyscapefanficarchive@marmolady @animus-and-anima @hayley-carter19 @escako@everlastingchoices @andrxrneda @aestheticsayeed@indescribablechoices @ahrielstuff @bornonawdnsday @nazario-sayeed @h-doodles @adele-serda @marlcasters@brightpinkpeppercorn @nightwhite13 @ramenwithaspoon@michelleconnoly @charliejane-blog @ghost-of-yuri@choicesgremlin @shadeofangelus @mistressofspiesxenia@orange-elephants

Zetta x Adele Series Tag: @eternal-langdon @nydeiri

➡️ Ch. 1, Ch. 2/1, Ch. 2/2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8/1, Ch. 8/2, Ch. 9

_____________________

"I'm positive you'll be quite pleased with the venue, Madam" Sabine smiles, her eyes gleaming as she guides me through the hallways. I can tell she's beaming and thrilled for tonight: knowing her, adrenaline is pumping through her veins and she won't rest until the party is officially over and she touches her pillow. But she looks genuinely anxious of showing me the results of her hard work. Well, her and Adele's. She must be proud of it: she's literally floating by my side. "I'm sure I will, ma chere Sabine" I agree, mirroring her smile. "You never disappointed me once, I doubt you'll start tonight" Her whole face brightened up with pride, even if she tries to hide it to preserve her professional demeanour. But I know her well enough and I wouldn't have shared my praise if that wasn't the effect I had in mind. When we finally reach our destination, my little Napoleon stops in front of the closed doors of the cafe and looks back at me. "Allons-y, Madam?" she lilts in French, her head high. In response, to channel my Zetta role I close my eyes and dramatically offer her a hand. "Lead the way, Sabine"

I can't see her but I know my flair for drama amused her. She probably shook her head before taking my hand and opening the doors. As she gently guides me inside, my heart starts racing in my chest and I smile to myself at my childish excitement. I better cherish it: I am somehow thrilled for my party even if I know it won't have a happy ending...Jamie dear certainly has something in store for me and I'm not sure it's anything good or even remotely pleasant, knowing his wicked plan. I cannot know if he'll succeed in ruining me, his only family in this world, and my reputation, my engagement to Richard; if he won't, he'll try his best to ruin my little happy soirée. That I know for sure. I summon every ounce of hopeful strength inside me and cast those thoughts aside: it's my night tonight and I wanna have a ball. No matter how hard he conspires against me. I deserve a little happiness after all the drama and heartbreak I've endured over the last few days on this Ship of Dreams, right? All I ask is just a jolly night of fun, champagne, good music and the company of my dear ones. I don't care about the others and anything else, honestly. I don't need anything else on my birthday night. Sabine's voice saves me from my own considerations and invites me to open my eyes. I oblige, barely refraining my curiosity, and when I do, the view takes my breath away. The Café Parisien is so...beautiful tonight. The breathtaking views on the ocean are framed by red velvet curtains, just like those used in theaters and cinemas, that now decorate the whole room, replacing the usual graceful ivy. A quintet is harmonising under a white trellis braided with ivy while waiters in impeccable first class uniforms are pouring champagne into flautes. They twinkle like gems at the light. The maestro rushes to hand me one, graciously wishing me a happy birthday and assuring me that they will go above and beyond to provide me and my guest a wonderful night. A night to remember, we say at the same time before he bows and resumes his duties. As he leaves, I realise that there are more wonders in store for me. "Sabine what- what are these?" I gasp, taking in the posters of my pictures and even old plays adorning the walls, surrounded by a display of painted props and what looks like postcards? I take a closer look and pick up one of them, being careful not to cause any damage. On the back someone hand-wrote "promotional picture for The Small-Town Showgirl: très chic!". I smile to myself before placing it back and picking another. I cannot believe how my little Napoleon and Adele managed to find this: an old picture of my last performance in Vienna. I turn it to find another note: "So young, so cute, so talented: go, Zetta!". I chuckle at the cheerfulness of the kind author of this comment and I feel truly touched, thankful: I don't know who they are but their words made this homage to my past even more heartwarming. It is truly a tribute to my career, to me. A testament to what I've achieved so far, to who I am. I couldn't have possibly imagined a better way to celebrate my comeback. This is an ode to my renaissance. "That was Miss Carrem's idea, Madam. She mentioned something about her cabinmate being a huge fan of yours as well as the beholder of a collection of posters and memorabilia of your career. She offered to ask her to let us use it tonight." Sabine explains, still standing where I left her, a few steps away. Another soft smile crosses my face at the mention of Adele. I should have known this was your doing, my love. So thoughtful and sweet, just like you. I shouldn't be surprised: over the last few days you've gone to great lengths to support me and to shake me from my dreamless slumber. You showed me how to be a whole again. "Is Adele's cabinmate on the guest list tonight? I'd like to thank her personally" I say, putting the old picture away and turning to face Sabine. "I'm afraid not...je souis desoleé, Madam, I didn't think of adding Mademoiselle Lena, I think that's the name" my little Napoleon winces. She looks taken aback by my question but genuinely sorry. I reassure her that it's nothing when an idea crosses my mind. "Sabine, book a table here at the Café for tomorrow night. Mademoiselle Lena will be my guest over dinner. I'd be delighted to make her acquaintance and it's the least I can do, she's been so kind and generous with me already" I suggest with a smile. My maid considers it for a minute then nods enthusiastically. It sounds like a good idea to her too. Before I can ask if at least Adele is here, the early guests walk in. I should welcome them properly: I flash a quick knowing smile to Sabine and head towards them: may no one say Zetta is a bad host, I won't allow it! Unsurprisingly, the first to kiss my hand is the Baron. Ha, I bet that old dog will be the first to arrive and the last to leave. As the quintet starts playing, he's followed by Lucille, my dear Lucille. She's dashing at the arm of her dignified athlete husband. She kisses my cheeks and comments that I look gorgeous in the outfit...she helped out picking, I remind her giggling. She looks closer to add conspirationally "gorgeous as a Sultan's favorite, my dear! You'll make heads turn". She winks and we both burst out a laughter clinging our glasses. Then it's time to welcome colleagues and wealthy admirers, fellow first class passengers and moguls. Some are friends, some are merely acquaintances that unwritten laws of society and decorum put on my guest list for the night, others are simply upper-crust sharks. As I slip into the idle chit chat the occasion requires, I check the room for any sign of Adele: where is my love I long so dearly to see again? Instead, I almost bump into James and a shiver runs through my spine at the sight of him. What a practised actor he is - better, thinks he is!- all dressed up to the nines and a smile plastered on his face. He kisses my cheeks and wishes me a happy birthday before assuring me, a disturbing playfulness in his voice, that he has something special in store for me. It takes all my acting mastery to fake a surprised reaction and not betray the pang of ache I felt as his threat in disguise left his mouth. "Always full of surprises, my darling, aren't you?" I comment, smiling but there is little warmth inside my battered heart. I take a relieved sigh when he and Matteo walks away to get drinks. Is this how we were supposed to end, Jamie? My heart rejoices though when I notice Lawrence and Felix approaching: I excuse myself with a colleague and move towards them. I greet them with my most genuine smile and pull them both into a tight hug as if they were an anchor: I can only hope it will convey how much I value their presence here, tonight. We may not be closest pals but we share a deep bond. As we linger in our embrace, I think they feel it too. We start chatting as if we've never left each other side since we left Southampton: they flatter me to no end - oh they're certainly among the most refined smooth talkers I've ever known yet, unlike many, earnest and true- and the conversation quickly turn towards the beauty of the decor and even a little humour. The Baron and a couple of other gentlemen join us: we crack jokes and laugh and I finally seem to relax after my brief conversation with my nephew. I'm sharing a silly story with Lawrence when I hear Felix saying: "Oh look, Miss Carrem is here!" I stop mid sentence and turn my head out of instinct as if her name was a siren's song I can't resist. And then I see her: my wondrous love, radiant in a gorgeous blue outfit adorned with gems, "walking in beauty" into the crowd. I can't refrain myself from calling her name as a renewed cheerfulness spreads through my veins. As she waves at me with a shy smile, I can't bear to stay away from her any longer: I hastily excuse myself and make my way toward her, drawn by that magnetic pull that always tether us to each other. I'm almost out of breath for the excitement and joy to be reunited with her when I finally stand in front of her. How hard is to refrain the instinct to hold her in my arms! "Adele! I've been looking for you!" My eyes falls on the pearls around her neck and I can distinctively feel my heart jumping out of my chest: she's wearing my token of affection. "What a lovely necklace..." My voice is as soft as my smile. And a secretive tenderness is written all over my love's face when our eyes meet again. "Thank you for my party. It's divine!" I say, struggling to hide my true feelings. "Don't thank me, thank Sabine" Adele shrugs, her gaze searching for my maid in the crowd. "Wherever she's fluttered off to..." "Sabine is a hard worker, but hard work is nothing without a bit of creative spark - remember that" I wink at her, handing a cold glass of champagne promptly offered by a zealous waiter. I observe her for a moment as she drinks and enjoy the view of her work. I could look at her all day and still find little details to fall for: the tiny dimples forming on her cheeks as she smiles, the way the light dances in her eyes... As the quintet starts playing a waltz, I ask her if she likes the music and if she knows how to waltz. There is a hint of her irresistible playfulness in the way she rises and eyebrow at me, replaying that alas, Viennese waltz isn't the most popular dance in London pubs and taverns. "Is it by chance similar to ragtime?" We burst into laughter and I forget all the unpleasantness lurking in the dark. "I'll teach you one day, if you'd like" I add, smiling softly just as the bell announces the dinner and we are separated once again. Leaving my love's side, I accidentally brush my hand against hers: please know how hard it is to part from you, Adele, even if just for a bright dinner. As I take my seat, I immediately notice that James managed to find a way to change his assigned seat and breath over Adele's neck. Luckily, Sabine and Matteo seem to share my apprehension and our gazes converge on my nephew smiling in a pretender of lovable politeness to my secretary. My little Napoleon and I exchange a resolute look and I know she will keep an eye on them while I'll be busy entertaining my guests. But first, my speech. Sabine taps lightly on her glass with a fork as I stand, rising my flaute. When all eyes are on me, I put on my brightest smile and speak: "Welcome, old friends and new. I'd like to make a little toast - now, now, Lawrence. Don't groan." "Thank you all for being here with me to celebrate my twentieth birthday!" Soft laughter rings among the tables just as expected. I shrug in an exaggerated yet mischievous show of apology. "That's a joke, of course. You'll never know how old I really am. Let's lift our glasses first to my staff, with whom this night would not be possible" I lift my glass to Sabine before laying my eyes on Adele again. My guests oblige, exchanging smiles. "They planned this in matter of days - a testament to the incredible things that can happen in such a short time" I'm glad that my love meets my eyes now because my words are for her only now. "If you're with the right person, that is" I can't betray myself now, I need to keep the Zetta act on but I think Adele noticed the hint of softness I tried to convey with my last line. It was for you, only you, my love. I turn towards the rest of the table as I continue my speech. "I'm sad my Richard can't be here, but that will only make our reunion in New York that much sweeter. I'm so happy all of you could come in his stead to celebrate this next phase of my life, my love, my work...To you!" Everyone raises their glasses and repeat my refrain. A thrill runs through me and I realises that no matter what lies ahead tonight, I'm...happy now. Just happy as I feel, I sense my renaissance starting, no blossoming inside me. I drain my champagne ecstatically and dab my eyes with a kerchief as I take my seat. The dinner is sublime: I can see my little Napoleon's touch here. Every course is a delight for the eye and an explosion of flavour. Champagne is cold and perfect, a divine nectar, and our glasses are never empty for long. I cheer with pleasure every now and then at a new exquisite delight and I ask the zealous waiters to bring my compliment to the chef more than once. Hope that fella will have such a big head tonight after all the effort and expertise he showed here! I try to check on James and Adele whenever I can but my guests are relentless when it comes to chase my attention. They keep sharing awe and singing the praises for the night as well as asking of Richard, if I've heard from him, how things are in New York and how the new picture is getting along. I bet some are covertly fishing for complementary tickets. Others just want to hear stories from the shiny world of cinema. The usual. But I'm happy to oblige tonight. When the dessert is over and the men start searching their coat pockets for cigars, a group of women gather around me. Champagne made us all a bit more daring and social than usual. A bit tipsy too, yes. I chat a little with them before moving to another group of ladies and then another. I hold court, merry and bright as I'll ever be, and steal furtive glances to my love. My beautiful Adele. I'm distracted by a few ladies asking me about my latest trip to Paris. Everyone loves ever eternal Paris... I can't blame them honestly. Walking down the river, the views of Notre Dame and Montmartre: oh, what a dream is Paris! I'm telling them about the artists painting in the streets when I notice another dream, my Adele, approaching. The French capital suddenly vanishes away in my mind as well as my little adoring audience. I stop mid-sentence, for the second time this evening and stand to meet her. Too tipsy to care about what others might think or if they would ever notice, I wrap her fully in an embrace, inhaling her scent. "It really is a wonderful party, isn't it?" I cheer, beaming at her as we part. "And you're the shining star of it all" Adele's soft smile washes over me and I curse our unfortunate fate. If only I could kiss her right here, right now... "I couldn't have done it without you" I say instead. "In fact...I've been singing your praises all night" A foolish idea hits me like a thunder and I gape to myself before taking her hands into mine. "I insist you meet all my interesting friends and foolish acquaintances!" Adele looks taken aback so before she can react, I wrap my arm with her own and guide her around the room. I get the attention of a group of socialites mingling with a rather popular colleague and introduce her. "This is Adele Carrem, of London" I say, my head high, announcing her like royalty. She deserves it: after all, isn't she the Queen of my heart? We stand like equals here, tonight...since we met, actually. Or at least since I got to know the brave radical standing here at my side. I'm glad to see that everyone treats her with the highest respect: if she's at my arm, she must belong here, they certainly think. I smile approvingly when my young colleague even kiss her hand as he would have done with the wealthiest passengers on board. A couple of directors back from the smoking room join us and the chat gets lively as I discretely play with my hand on the small of her back. One of my guest, Annette, a gracious colleague and friend accidentally met on board asks her about London and our first encounter. I look at my love, unsure of how she would answer to that, how we should answer to that and I see her hesitate a little. My breath catches in my throat even if I try to conceal it but I soon relaxed seeing Adele shrugging nonchalantly, a smile on her lips. "Well, that's a long story..." "The likes of which the world has hardly seen" I complete her sentence with a smirk, amusing our audience with my witty Zetta humour. "Oh, is that how you want to play it?" Adele giggles, making a scene to raise an eyebrow at me. "Why, how do you want to play it? It's true!" I shrug, eliciting new soft laughter. My love playfully dismisses me and turns to my guests. "She's just mad I crushed her at the shuffleboard courts the other day" I let out a hearty laughter. God, it's so easy to fall into an easy rhythm with her, without trying or forcing it. It comes natural, like breathing...as if we were meant to be. "To be precise you didn't crush me. It was almost a tie" "Was it?" Annette inquiry, skeptical and amused by our little show. I hesitate a little, a dramatic pause, my eyes wandering between her and Adele, then I hang my head and groan. "Oh c'mon, she has never played shuffleboard before! Do not butcher my pride!" After my words are welcomed with another round of laughter, Adele starts talking about our time on the ship as if we've known each other for years. I'm so thankful and touched: this is exactly how I feel about her. I wish I knew her earlier. There is warmth, the deep loyalty she showed with deeds not mere words in every little detail she mentions. There is also an affection the world better not see or suspect but people is generally blind to those kind of love and my little revolutionary knows how to be secretive and guarded. When we've made rounds, I need a break. I love the party but I need some fresh air and a private moment with my love. When I see a chance opening, I grab her hand and pull her out into the open air, into the night and to the far end of the deck, toward the end of a row of chairs, where it's quiet. Yes, here it should be safe. We keep silent for a moment than I exhale loudly. "I needed this" I move towards the railing, throwing my head back and breathing in the fresh air of the night. Thank God, the alcohol I had keeps me warm because it's chilly out here. Probably below zero? We must be heading North and we're in the open sea...I bet the water swaying beneath us is freezing. "The quiet?" Adele asks, retrieving a blanket from the chairs. Ah, my most considerate secretary! "Yes, and tonight in general" I consider, rambling as I rest my back on the cold railing. "This party. That food. The wine. It's perfect" "I'm so glad to hear it" Adele smiles, moving closer and wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. "And on top of it all, it's my birthday!" I squeal in a tipsy high pitched voice when she's near enough. My love giggles: yes, I'm probably quite a picture as the fine wine of our dinner is kicking in. She's so beautiful when she laughs, always and her closeness is intoxicating. "What?" I tease her, cocking my head to the side and leaning close enough that my arm touches her. A sparkle of electricity runs up my arm at that casual touch. My eyes quickly stroke her lips before meeting hers again. "Do you have a present for me?" There is no one around, only the faint echo of the quintet playing and the ocean waves. Adele leans in and I smile against her lips as our mouths meet. It's sweet and light, a tender romantic kiss underneath the stars that spread a comforting warmth through my whole body: I don't even need the blanket she's wrapping around my shoulders as she gently pulls me closer. It's been a while since I last felt anything close to this: is this what being in the arms of your love feels like? When we part, we both hesitate. The sounds of the party are distant and there are no passengers or stewards in sight. We smile at each other and kiss again, longer this time but with no hurry or hunger. I touch my hand to her cool cheek: can time stop now? Can a moment last forever? If so, God please let it be this moment when I'm dizzy and drunk of this sweet pure love so far away from land. Eventually we pull back to catch our breath. Before speaking, I take a moment to look at my love smiling softly at me. The gems on her dress twinkle in the dark and I can see the stars reflecting in her eyes. She's my star though, my Northern star casting the brightest light in the dusk of my mad existence. "I've been waiting to do that all night" I sigh contently. As Adele gently strokes my back, I continue unable, unwilling to hide my heart's feelings any longer. "If I'm honest, I don't even want to reach shore, I don't want to go back to the party...I just want to stay out here with you. Forever" My love smiles, tender and pained at the same time. Her voice is as soft as a sweet caress. "I know, I wish this moment didn't have to end" "Let's just make a tent of this blanket - we can live off seal meat and rainwater!" I suggest as the thought of a life lived side by side with her blinds me. We both laugh then Adele speaks again. "What about your acting career?" she inquires, stroking my cheek. "We'll make our own plays. Whaddya say?" I shrug, leaning to the touch. There are so many we cannot say, so many objections but also desperate wishes and dreams on her face. On mine too. I mean it when I said I want to stay here with here forever. I'm not foolish enough to think what I feel blossoming inside me is that ever consuming amour fou immortalised by poets, after what? a couple of days it's too soon to even put a label to it but it's crystal clear to me now that I don't want to part from her. I want her close, near, to warm my troubled soul at the calming yet restless fire burning inside her. Let it kindle what I hid deep inside, away from the prying of the world, and offer it to her, if she wants it too. Sadly, our time is almost over and I embrace Adele tighter when she takes my face in her hands and kiss me again. One last kiss, slow and deep, filled with all we must left unsaid. I return it in kind. When our eyes meet again, I know she felt it too. Our words were silent but we were listening.

#titanic storyscape #zetta serda #adele carrem #zetta x adele #zetta x adele series

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oh-theatre · 5 years ago

Text

Sycamore High: A Final Round (Chapter 40: Part 1)

A/N: I AM SO SORRY!! ITS BEEN FOREVER!! Also I have decided to split the final chapter into two parts! I promise I wont take three months to write the next one lol... Anyway!! I hope you all enjoy and once again! I am so so sorry

summary: As the year ends the gang has some unfinished things to wrap up

words: 4662

warnings: Swearing, kissing, homophobia

Edited by: @theyreallidiots (YOURE MY ANGEL AND SAVIOR AND I FUCKING LOVE YOU SO MUCH)

Ao3 Link

“Hey uh, bye fucker” Ted waves from the couch, stuffing his mouth full of newly opened cheeseballs.

“Bye asshole” Paul responds, lugging his bags towards the door. Chad and Henry watch from the opening in their kitchen.

“Are they friends? I can't tell” Chad asks softly, Henry laughs. “Alright, boys! Let's have a proper goodbye shall we?” Chad requests, glaring only slightly at his son. Ted moans standing quickly, he walks over to Paul giving him a quick hug. “Oh come on, you're best friends”

“We are like Stan and Kyle dad” Ted mumbles, Chad and Henry glance at one another, Teds references were a hit and miss with the pair. “Ugh nevermind, I don't need to give Paul a big giant hug, that's all I'm saying”

“Aren't those the two that dated?” Paul asks trying to remember.

“No that's Tweek and Craig” Ted corrects, Paul nods an ‘ah’ sound escapes “You gotta watch more ‘South Park’” Ted chides, Paul laughs.

“Wait does that mean you're going to write me a song because you miss me” Paul mocks, recalling the events of the previous few episodes. Teds not sure whether he's impressed or offended.

“Of course I will” He teases back, Henrys given up. “Alright say goodbye to Clyde” Ted requests, Paul awes kneeling as the sad pup comes up to him, licking his face goodbye. He stands after a moment of cuddling and faces the professors.

“Thank you so much for letting me stay here” He goes up and hugs Henry and Chad, they return the gesture happily. “It was really nice” He smiles, they ruffle his hair allowing him to face Ted now. The professors share a glance before promptly exiting the room, leaving the friends alone. Clyde jumps into Ted’s arms receiving soft pets. “Well it’s been fun” Paul commented jokingly, Ted laughs giving his friend a hug.

“Look, just come back whenever you need to ok?” He asks softly. Paul nods pulling away.

“Sorry, I’m a bit late” Emma joins in, opening the door as she makes her way into the apartment. Ted gives her a nod, Paul greets her with a quick kiss on the cheek. “Ready?” She hopes, he nods giving Ted one last look of gratefulness before stepping out of the apartment and joining Emma on her descent downstairs. “You ok?” She checks before hopping into the car, Paul joins her after stuffing his belongings into the back.

“Yeah, I just got so used to living with Ted it'll be weird… ya know?” Emma nods starting the car “But I'm really excited to go home and sleep in my bed and be with my mom” He lists excited, Emma giggles at his antics heading onto the road. The drive isn't too long and Paul had offered to just walk but Emma wanted to be there.

“Are you hungry at all?” Emma inquires carefully, inputting Paul's house into her GPS. Paul ponders for a moment, the professors had sent him off with plenty of food in his stomach.

“No I’m ok, how are you?” He responds, fiddling with the ends of his jacket. He realized how long it had been since the pair had been alone together, just the two of them. He loves their friends but… it was nice.

“I’m ok, Charlotte is having a fashion crisis about her outfit for the wedding. She wasn’t expecting to be asked to sing so...but now she has Jackie for that.” Emma turns “Who mind you, is much better at that than I am” She admits, Paul laughs. “Speaking of the wedding…” She twirls her fingers over his hand, playing with it.

“Yes?” He turns, smiling.

“Well, what colors are you wearing? I want to match” She chimes, Paul laughs. “What?” She grins towards him, adorable confusion.

“Nothing, I'm wearing a standard suit, with a hint of blue” He explains, she raises an eyebrow. “I’ve been with Henry too long…”

“Blue” She repeats thinking it over, she pulls into Pauls driveway “I can do blue”

“Thanks for driving me,” he says, staring fearfully at the house in front of him. Emma takes his hand, kissing it softly.

“Did you really think I was going to let you waltz in there alone?” Emma wonders, Paul laughs stepping out of the car. Emma joins him, helping him with some bags. They trudge up the driveway, the sweltering heat hitting them quite hard. “Ready?” She asks, he nods pushing open the door, silently praying no one is home. He makes his way softly into the house hoping nobody can hear him, if anybody is home that is. Emma takes his free hand, grasping it protectively.

“Paul!” Alice exclaims running up to her brother, her hug causing him to drop all his things as he returns the gesture. “I missed you so much!” She tightens her grip, Paul struggles for air, silently pleading to Emma. She coughs loudly gaining the attention of a certain Matthews sister, who pulls away apologizing.

“I missed you too” He responds, he scans the room looking at the empty kitchen/living room. It feels lonely, sad, dreary, what are other adjectives for lonely? “Where is mom?” He inquires, walking further into the house.

“She took Joe out while you came home”

“I'm so tempted to make a ‘Joe mama’ joke” Paul mumbles, Emma seizes trying to contain her laughter. “So it's just us?” He continues, Alice nods. “I'm gonna go put my stuff away, Em?” Emma smiles a greeting to Alice before following Paul upstairs. She had forgotten what his room looked like having spent so much time at the professors.

“Excited to be home?” She asks as Paul flops onto his bed, clutching his pillows close.

“So excited” He gleams, he throws a pillow her way, a mischievous grin spread across his face.

“You are starting something you can't finish Matthews” Emma throws it back a little rougher, Paul raises his brows sitting up. He throws two more at her, hitting her square in the face, she laughs ready. “Is that a challenge Matthews?” He nods coyly receiving a pillow in his face as a response. They continue for a little while circling around the room and bouncing on the bed, pillows flying everywhere. Finally, Paul catches Emma, wrapping his arms around the squealing teen smothering her with quick pecks.

“Gotchu,” He says, turning her to face him. She shrugs pulling him in for a kiss.

“Suppose you do” She comments back, he pulls her in kissing her prolongedly, holding on to this moment for a while. They pull apart needing a moment, desperate for air. “Well damn Paul… but uh… I don't think that's how you play pillow fight”

“Uh Emma, you don't play pillow fight, you live it” he corrects, Emma laughs pushing him off. He smiles, melting back into his cozy bed, Emma sits next to him. “Mmm home” He hums softly, Emma fiddles with his hair.

“I love you” Emma whispers sweetly into his hair, kissing his forehead. A soft umph escapes her as Paul hits her with a pillow once more, rolling off the bed laughing. “I take it back” She grumbles, coughing some feathers out of her mouth. Paul leans forward, taking Emma's face in his hands.

“No, take-backs,” He says, kissing her again. He could do this forever.

~~~

“Are you seriously telling me you can’t tie a tie?” Tommy chides, looking up from his magazine as he lounges on Ted's bed. Ted stands in front of the mirror, growing exceedingly frustrated at the knot around his neck he claims to be a tie.

“Don't be mean, help me” He begs, tugging annoyed at the patterned garment. Tommy groans rolling off the bed. He stands joining his boyfriend in the mirror. Ted pouts as Tommy swats his hands away, intricately working on the tie, patting it flat once he's finished. “Perfect, thank you,” He says, kissing Tommy on the forehead before turning back to the mirror.

“You know I’ve showed you a million times right?” Tommy comments flopping back onto the bed. Ted bites down a knowing smile. It's not that he likes when Tommy helps him, its that he loves leaning forward, planting a surprise kiss directly onto Tommy, leaving him flustered a moment after.

“Yeah but I forgot” Ted admits, Tommy groans once more, laughing annoyed into a pillow he had used for propping his magazine on. Teds not going to lie, that sound had been sorely missed. And so had the flutter in his chest, the one he got everytime Tommy even batted an eye his way. “Shouldn't you be getting ready?” Ted remembers, checking the time. Tommy hums softly, flipping through the pages.

“Yes! But I don't want to” Tommy exclaims, Ted finishes his hair, deciding there is nothing more he can do for it before turning to Tommy. He gives the smaller boy a look, Tommy bites his lips before giving in. “My parents want me to wear this suit, and I hate how it feels” He complains, Ted moves towards the bed, squatting in front of Tommy who lays forward, his head resting in his hands.

“You don't have to wear the suit” Ted begins, Tommy tilts his sad head. “Ok, I wasn't sure when or how but...I asked Jackie for a favor…” Almost instantly Tommys face lights up. Ted giggles, taking Tommy's hand in his own. He stands, allowing Tommy to follow him towards the closet. Tommy clutches to Ted scared if he even missteps he will be gone, lost because Tommy failed to keep him. It's silly, he knows, but it's his silliness.

“Mmm not my favorite place” Tommy jokes, Ted stifles a laugh, nudging Tommy softly. He opens the door revealing a dress. Tommy's jaw dropped, just the reaction Ted had hoped for. The dress matched Teds burgundy theme, white lace to decorate it. It was of appropriate length, but perfectly flowy. Tommy continues gaping, Ted wraps his arms around the smaller boy from the back, his head leaning on Tommy's shoulder slightly. “Do you-

“Don't even finish, I love it” Tommy admires. Ted smiles triumphant, planting a sweet kiss on his cheek. Tommy continues smiling as Ted releases his grip, Tommy moves forward taking the dress and excusing himself into the bathroom. Ted goes back to his own outfit, sitting at the tip of the bed as he ties his shoes. He hums softly allowing the silence to envelop him in his thoughts, the reality of his life, his situation everything that had happened hitting him. He didn't mean to cry and it wasn't ...bad per se but it did feel weird. He shakes his head, wiping away any remnants, everything was fine.

“Everything is fine” He repeats out loud, staring grimly at his reflection. His outfit is fine but everything just seems one-off. Not that he could think about it much as something catches his eyes in the mirror, the bathroom door sliding open, a very nervous Tommy stands in it. How many times must a person's jaw drop today? Tommy looked perfect in the dress, everything fit him and he was just…”Perfect” Ted marvels, his eyes might as well be pounding hearts.

“What?” Tommy laughs, spinning only slightly as his dress follows him.

“You look...perfect” Ted grins nodding, he's smooth, he's got this. Tommy squeals, Oh no...he does not got this. He expects more happy squeals and delighted smiles but Tommy’s face drops, he plops on the bed. “Tommy? What’s up?” Ted asks, sitting next to him.

“I just don't know how my parents are going to react to...this” he gestures to himself, Ted bites his lip. “I should just go in the suit” He decides, his voice emulating quite the opposite sentiment. He stands but Ted stops him in his tracks.

“Gumdrop you can wear whatever you want but please… I want you to be comfortable, not itchy and...saggy” He tries, Tommy raises a brow. “I don't remember what you said” He admits, Tommy laughs, he stands on his tiptoes planting a soft kiss on Ted’s lips.

“Hey, you two” They pull apart quickly, being interrupted by Chad. He hides a coy smile, no matter how much he loves Tommy, he is still a father and he has rules. “Almost ready to go?” He asks, Tommy nods collecting his things. He folds his clothes putting them neatly on Ted's chair, knowing he’ll be back later to collect them. Ted finishes his last arrangements before stepping out of the room following his dad to the living room. With one more unsure glance in the mirror, Tommy follows them.

“Well look at you two” Henry claps, Chad smirks giving his husband a kiss on the cheek before retreating into the kitchen for a cup of tea. “You ready to sing?” he teases, Ted moans nervous, the churning in his stomach growing. Tommy takes his hands squeezing it supportively.

“You're going to do great!” Tommy encourages, kissing his cheek just the same. Henry excuses himself to the car, packing up some things for the ceremony. Chad joins him a moment after, helping with his own load. Tommy and Ted are left in the apartment. “Ready dearest?” Tommy inquires, leading Ted to the door.

“I hope so…” Ted mutters, following Tommy. He would follow him anywhere.

~~~

“Char, you need to take a breath” Jackie suggests, Charlotte shakes her head continuing her frantic pacing. “Here have some tea” Jackie offers holding up a fresh cup, Charlotte turns to her eyes wide completely baffled.

“No! No, I can't drink anything right now unless its water! It'll create stuff in my throat!”

“Bubbles!” Jackie shouts, she doesn't mean to but she can't deal with the stress. “You need to take a breather Char, please sit down and just breathe” Jackie begs, Charlotte pouts but heeds her advice nonetheless.

“I'm sorry I just do not want to sing, I can’t sing, why did they ask me to sing today?” Charlotte rambles. Jackie sits next to her girlfriend taking her hand softly, she kisses her cheek lightly hoping her makeup doesn't smudge. The girls were waiting now at the wedding, they were early since they were not just guests but performers. “Where is Ted? And Tommy?” Charlotte rushes “They should be here by now” She notes, Jackie nods sighing. She stands taking Charlotte with her.

“You need to dance” She decides, Charlotte laughs nervously, her breath shaky.

“Really? Right now?” Charlotte whines, Jackie nods swaying slowly around the room following the steps of the band warming up. Though a little clunky they make it through, dancing around the room and soon Charlotte forgets her past worries and allows the music to guide her. After a while they flop back onto the couch, sighing content. “Better?”

“Much better” Charlotte yawns cuddling up closer to Jackie, they have awhile before they have to do anything so they spend the rest of the time just relaxing. It's definitely just what both girls needed before the wedding.

~~~

“No no! That's supposed to be over there!” Ted corrects. The man, presumingly the one in charge of flowers, scatters fixing his mistake quickly. “Ugh imbeciles,” He says, Tommy laughs playing with Ted’s freehand while the other clutches to a clipboard. “It's not funny Tommy” Though he is still frustrated his voice softens, he's not mad at Tommy, no reason to take it out on him.

“Mmhm” Tommy hums, Ted rolls his eyes walking towards the arch. Tommy follows him admiring the garden, it was perfect. “It’s…” Tommy marvels

“Wrong! All wrong!” Ted grumbles, Tommy takes his chin facing him towards himself. “What?” Ted pouts, Tommy kisses him.

“You need to calm down, it looks beautiful dearest” Tommy complements, Ted sighs. It does look wonderful, Ted has worked hard he was just...stressed. “Now come, we have other things to check on” Tommy interlaces his fingers with a very reluctant Ted and leads him towards the two tents. They peek in waving as they approach Jackie, Charlotte, Emma and Paul.

“Looks great Ted” Paul comments, Tommy rubs his boyfriend’s shoulder reassuringly.

“Thanks I guess…” Ted grumbles looking over his list, his soft mumbling of different things he needs to do. “Ok can I enlist your help?” Ted hopes, Paul and Jackie shoot up, Tommy purses his lips happily at the trio. “Jackie can you take Emma to food? Make sure it’s all accounted for?” The girls nod sharing a quick handshake before leaving. “Awesome” He says flatly. “Gumdrop will you check in on music with Paul?” Tommy nods, Paul gives awkward finger guns before following Tommy out of the room. “Guess you're with me” He tells Charlotte, she smiles taking his hand to stand.

~~~

“S’cuse me?” Tommy asks politely tapping on one of the musicians. They turn a flashing grin on their face, Paul stands idle looking over the list Ted gave him.

��Can I help you kid?” The gruff man sounds exactly as expected, low and smooth. He takes notice of Paul, a greeting of clicking his tongue. Tommy gleams taking the list from Paul, freely of course, Paul wasn't much of a talker.

“I just need to make sure everything is in working order!” Tommy says, the man shrugs giving him permission. “A harp player?” The man nods pointing to a woman practicing, he checks it off. Tommy continues until he's finished turning satisfactorily towards Paul, his dress spinning with him.

“I like your dress” Paul comments, Tommy smiles thankfully “Jackie I'm assuming” Tommy nods, they walk slowly now indulging a nice conversation checking in on other things just for it. It was getting heated in the most friendly way debating over silly things for the fun of it. “Oh!” Tommy exclaims delighted “You can't mean that” he laughs, Paul laughs back. “See I th-”

“Tommy?” Tommy stops turning, he might have gasped but why should he be surprised. Teagan and Eric looked so disappointed Tommy wanted to laugh, that might be the only look he’d ever seen cross their face. “What on god’s green earth are you wearing?” Teagen seethed. Tommy didn't trust himself to answer, Paul on the other hand…

“It's called a dress, miss Sweet” He informs dryly. Paul exams her outfit, thank god for Jackie “But I see how you could miss that…” He says clearly alluding towards her own outfit, she looked like an off-brand royal member. Teagans eyes widen, a vicious scoff escapes.

“Do you know who I am?” She threatens, Eric puffs out his chest.

“No, frankly I don't” Paul admits, Tommy’s shoulders fall a small pout. He appreciates what Pauls trying to do but he would like to leave. Teagan scoffs once more, Tommy averts his gaze.

“You really are quite a charmer aren't you Tommy?” She smirks, Paul ushers the pair back a little as she moves forward. “Everyone just loves you, don’t they? What are you, his other boyfriend?” And as if something connected them they both felt the same emotion. It wasn't the assumption that he was with Tommy, but the way that she talked about her son that set Paul off. Tommy felt offended on behalf of Ted and Paul, how dare she?

“Mom just stop, ok? For once don't make everything about you, it's a wedding!” Tommy exclaims, Paul smirks to the ground “I need to go help Ted so that's exactly what I'm going to do” Tommy decides, Teagan goes for more but Paul shrugs walking away following Tommy.

“That was impressive” Paul quipped, Tommy gives him a weak smile feeling more uncomfortable in his dress than ever before.

“Please don't mention it to Ted, he has enough on his plate” Tommy requests, Paul nods despite knowing he wouldn't be keeping this secret. Ted would want to know, out of all the people, he would want to know.

Paul wonders how they ended up here, the year started out so light. Racing through the halls trying to get away from a less than happy principal, playing smash bros with Ted, coffee runs with his sister. He hates to admit it but he wishes he could start the year over. He would give Ted his mom back, he wouldn't even look at Billy, he’d make it all better. It sounds stupid, he knows, but he would trade anything, anything for a year of betterment than...whatever their year was.

~~~

“Nervous?” Ted wonders, checking in on his father one last time. Henry scoffs adjusting his cufflinks in the mirror, Ted smirks. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ ” Ted teases, Henry laughs finishing his adjustments. The tent is empty now as everyone takes their position, eager to push on.

“No no, I would be nervous if I wasn't sure” Henry hums. Ted, who itches for anything of his parents past or feelings, listens. “But I have been in love with that man for over twenty-four years, I’d be more nervous at the fact that I wasn't sure” Henry jokes

“S’cute” Ted mumbles, rubbing his eyes for a smidgen of adrenaline “Well I'm going to go get started, you good in here?” Ted checks one more time. Henry nods returning to the mirror. Ted smiles as he advances to the garden, bustling people clamoring over their chairs. He spots Charlotte by the band warming up and testing her vocals with the sound. She waves brightly at him before continuing, Jackie sits watching her with pride.

“Ok fine I wouldn't kill Eugene but like-” Paul joins Ted

“It’s not even a debate Paul, there is no ‘but’” Ted replies without missing a beat. “You don't kill Eugene” Paul sighs rolling his eyes. “Don't be sad, because sad spelled backwards is das and das not gut” Ted quotes, Paul snickers nudging his friend.

“Hey, look at how far you've come” Paul reminds “You used to be a jerk, and now you're a wedding planner and a jerk” Paul jokes “But honestly, look at you! You're out, you've got an awesome boyfriend, killer friends-” He gestures to himself, Ted sucks in a sharp doubtful breath “Great parents” Paul compliments, Ted snorts

“You've been hanging out with Jackie too much” Ted decides “You forgot the alien” Ted notes, Paul cocks his head. “The one I rescued from Area 51? Yeah, his name is Gordon and he's a chef” Ted announces, Paul nods diligently “Not to sound sad on main but you ever miss…” He trails off

“The beginning of the year? Yeah kinda” Paul admits finishing Ted’s thought. “Ted your mom would be really proud of you, seriously. She would love Tommy, she’s always loved your voice and acting, and you planned a wedding!” Paul rejoices, Ted gives him a grateful smile in return. “Also I have reserved one dance for us, because no matter what you and Tommy are, we are the OG's” He says wistfully, Ted throws his head back laughing.

“Still not interested Paul” Ted teases thinking back on his many years of putting up with his best friend.

“Still don’t care” He quips in return, Ted rolls his eyes. “Hey look its-

“My bitch” Ted instantly shakes his head “Nope, not me, did not work, regret it, 0/10 would not recommend,” He says as Tommy approaches a confused look befalls his face. Tommy smiles wary, Paul tries hard not to laugh but nods. “Hi” He says simply

“Hi dear...you good?” Tommy checks, Ted gives him to thumbs up, blushing red as he does so.

“Yes I think everything is ready and gucci to go” He decides going through his list one more time. Emma approaches sliding her hand into Pauls, he greets her with a kiss before turning to Ted.

“Flowers are good to go! And so is everything else!” She muses, Ted shoots her a grateful glances. “All there’s left is to-”

“Get married” The group turns, Chad stands proudly, Ted smirks nodding his head.

“Looking good pops!” He shakes his head instantly, Tommy and Paul stifle more laughs. Ted turns to Tommy sighing “I need sleep” He nods leading his boyfriend towards the seats. Chad smiles allowing the rest of the children to take their seats. “I’ll be right back” Ted whispers going up to his father.

“Sup” Chad jokes, Ted laughs rolling his eyes. Chad nudges his son, giving him a tight hug. “Thank you Ted” The boy cocks his head “For everything, out of all of this, you are the best thing to happen all year”

“Hey, that's not fair to me” The pair turn, small gasps from Chad as his eyes fall on Henry. Ted gleams nodding.

“I am pretty amazing” Ted teases, Henry shoves him receiving one back. They continue before Henry ultimately wins, wrapping his arms around Ted. “Ew affection”

“I’m marrying a child” Chad mumbles rolling his eyes as he separates the pair. “If we ever get married” He groans, Henry pouts but nods defeated.

“Alright, I’m going dear” He says, a quick squeeze to Chad's arm before he rushes to the altar. Chad turns to Ted nodding, a brief hug before Ted returns to Tommy. He looks to Charlotte who might be too busy watching Jackie, a clearing of the throat and she begins.

“Wise men say…” She starts slow, her voice carrying as the crowd silences. Chad shakes his head playfully, remembering the first time he did this. A lot less people were there, and hell was he nervous. “Only fools rush in” She sings, smiling at her professor. Chad takes a breath before taking his first step. It's silly isn't it, they didn't have to go through all of this. They were dramatic though, what did you expect?

Soon enough he finds himself at the end of the aisle and shaking. Ted stands leading him the final way up, kissing both his parents on the cheek as the song finishes he sits once more.

“Falling in love….with..you” She bows accordingly before taking an excited chair next to Jackie. A sweet kiss as congratulations. The ceremony went pretty fast on its own.

“Chad, my love” Henry begins, soon enough wailing and sobs can be heard. Henry sighs as Chad laughs through his tears. “We have been together for twenty four years, you have been my-

“Dad! You’re boring me!” Ted interjects. Henry turns, scoffing. Ted smiles as Tommy buries his head. “Kidding!” Henry faces Chad once more.

“Could I borrow that” He gestures to Chads bouquet, his partner laughs handing it over. He chucks it delicately at Ted who catches it, the crowd laughs. “Ok, anyway” He eyes Ted “Chad, I don't have much more to say that I haven't told you every morning and every night. I love you, more than words or weddings or anything can describe. I would give you the world, but you are my world” Chad stifles his own sobs, squeezing maybe a little harder than he needed to on Henry's hands.

“Fuck, that’s a really good line” Ted whispers to Tommy, his boyfriend takes his hand and places it over Ted’s mouth. “Mmmmmmmm” He tries to speak.

“I love you but shush” Tommy begs, Ted rolls his eyes but agrees.

“My turn!” Chad hopes, practically buzzing with affection and adoration.“Henry, from the moment I saw you across the highschool theatre, to the moment you kissed me under the barren lights of the stage” Henry smirks, feeling a blush occur. “I love you, I don't know how else to put it. How do you put the truth into words? I love you so much Henry” He admits, not...no not admits. Reaffirms, as he would do until the day he took a dying breath. Soon enough the ‘I do’s’ are through and their lips are locked. Cheers erupt as they embrace excited, a much too impatient Ted jumps up wrapping them up in his arms. And for this moment, just this frozen sophisticated moment of pure delight.

It was perfect

...for now

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awastelandheart · 5 years ago

Text

Sebastian’s personality analyzed through his theory-crafted natal chart, in game dialogue & conclusion included: The perspective of an experienced astrologer.

PART TWO: MOON SIGN. SEE PART ONE: SUN SIGN.

i apologize in advance to any leo moons i unintentionally read to filth in this post.

so, in my last post i talked about Sebastian’s sun sign. to those who don’t know much about astrology, i’ll take a second at the beginning of this post to explain what a moon sign is & recap my opinions on the other post. to the people who know enough about astrology to already understand this much & have read the first installment, feel free to skip ahead !

there is far more to astrology than just the first sign that almost everyone knows about themselves. the second most basic concept to astrology is that each typical planet ( moon, mars, mercury, etc ) influences different aspects of our personality in unique ways depending on what constellation ( read: sign ) they were in when a person was born. in my last post i talked about Sebastian’s sun sign, which i headcanon as Capricorn.

key sentences from my last post:

Capricorn is an earth sign, reveling in stability with a handful of almost toxic traits to display if that stability isn’t achieved. between their earthly reliability & love of practicality, Capricorns are viewed as the traditional fathers of the zodiac sphere. they guard their values of yesteryear close to their chest. anything too different is cast far away from themselves. a Capricorn’s independence is almost panic charged in this way. they so dearly want to be seen as capable that they will shred their own livelihood as a price. they are masters at self control for it, each having taught themselves the art of stoicism from a young age. Capricorns are at best, friendly in a superficial way. knowing their loneliness is created by their own hands but never knowing how to move passed their own cold & distant heart to enact any change necessary to improve their relationships. something that is often associated with Capricorns & the other earth signs is the act of earning money. Capricorns crave for their income to be stable & plentiful in order to provide for their loved ones, or for the more lonely Capricorns, to provide for themselves.

our sun signs are the most rudimentary of our personality descriptors. it’s an accessible way of understanding ourselves as the position usually hosts our mannerisms & ambition. from there, the planets get more niche. our moon sign, which is the position i’ll be talking about in this post, homes our emotional experiences. where this planet is describes how we approach our emotions, how we process & cope with them. questions that this position answers are about what we need to feel secure in life & how we respond to emotional challenges. our moon sign is the universal experience of knowing what we mean but not being able to articulate it. so in this post i’ll be talking about Sebastian’s nuanced experience.

Sebastian’s main struggle is with feeling angry over his family’s neglect & Maru’s clear favoritism. aside from a couple instances like his snowgoon lines, we don’t actually see very much tangible favoritism. because of this, i think Sebastian has very sensitive emotions & maybe even a fragile ego to boot. it would be less that Demetrius & Robin actually treat him unfairly & more that he just feels this way; that on an emotional level, it’s something perceptible but not explainable. Sebastian’s experience with his family’s neglect is less moments that he can list off or define & more in the subtleties. i’m not saying he doesn’t get treated unfairly at times, he most definitely does, but to other people these slights may seem superficial; for Sebastian, they are deeply wounding.

leo is a fire sign with the modality of fixed. many people assume that fire signs are always extroverted & loud, however it can be quite the opposite. this element is more about passion for their interests, innate creativity, & how quickly their moods fizzle out. the emotions of a fire sign come fast & burn through just as quickly, often leaving some form of destruction in the wake of their excitement. fixed signs are always slightly obsessive about the things that pique their interest. like a dog’s locked jaw, they end up spending more time than other people on one activity. off the top of my head, this is exactly how concernedape describes Sebastian in his dev update #12, saying; “ he tends to get deeply absorbed in computer games, comic books, & sci-fi novels, & will sometimes spend great lengths of time pursuing these hobbies alone in his room. ”

leo specifically is a very intelligent & creative sign. their interests are usually a bit nerdier than most in modern times since high fantasy lends well to a unique blend of intellectualism & creativity. leo moons tie their emotions to what they create & can be very defensive about their interests. others opinions, if differing to their own, can result in a damaged relationship. as a result, leo moons more than most tend to surround themselves with people they find relatable. i find the fact that, unlike with other bachelors, when you answer ‘incorrectly’ to Sebastian asking you your opinion on things, the system actively deducts friendship points, indicating that by not agreeing with him, you’re damaging your relationship.

when it comes to their friend groups, leo tends to be in charge, whether by force or charm. there’s a duality to leo moons that pegs them as both the overbearing & pushy friend that has an opinion on everything & the friend that offers structure & inspiration to plans or events. it’s natural for a leo position to enjoy attention but more sensitive ones will prefer it only from loved ones & those they’re comfortable around. another canon instance to support this deduction is how Sebastian mentions that he enjoys having friends, but has a hard time being around people. he clearly enjoys attention, or else Maru’s favoritism wouldn’t eat at him so much as well, but is too much of an introvert to seek it out from anyone but those he’s comfortable around ( ie; Sam & Abby ).

leo moon is a rather emotional position, requiring lots of love & care in order to function well. they feel slighted easily & console themselves with bouts of sulking as a result. being conscious of their appearance & what people think of them often means this sulking won’t happen in public but will be saved for their alone time. for more healthy leo moons, these bouts pass quickly, resulting in a healed ego & the ability to ‘get back out there.’ however for leo moons who feel neglected & unloved frequently, this brooding may become apart of their personality. anyone who spends more than a moment interacting with Sebastian in game will probably describe him as seeming like the brooding type -- in one of his first interactions with the player, he delivers an almost poetic yet depressing line that insinuates he spends a lot of time thinking to himself.

so, in summary, i believe Sebastian has a Leo moon because he shares many qualities with how astrologers perceive the position. he is complicated & a man with a lot of internal conflict -- someone who enjoys all things extroverted but due to his sensitive emotions, has developed a guarded personality to compensate. of course this is all just my personal interpretation, but i hope this was an interesting read & shed some light on the kind of person Sebastian is !

#stardew valley rp #stardew valley #stardew valley meta #stardew valley headcanon #stardew rp #my more perceptive followers will realize i changed his moon from aquarius to leo with this post #that's bc i changed a lot of positions & ended up giving him a capricorn stellium instead of a scorpio one #so he was lacking Spice #also yes i'm throwing this one in the sdv tags as well #bc i met two of my very good friends from the fact that i tagged my last zodiac hc post as such lmao #i might add to this eventually just because i feel like #this is lacking in comparison to my first post #but we'll see

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ilovemydarkandstormyknight · 6 years ago

Text

Sunflower

A special thanks to @lifein-confusion for beta reading for me!

Ao3 link

At first, Logan hadn’t even noticed. In fact, if Roman hadn’t pointed it out to him, it would have taken him much longer to figure it out. That’s not to say he never would have- well, who was he kidding, he was so emotionally inept that he probably would never have figured it out.

Logan walked into the kitchen, where Patton had just started pulling out for dinner that night. Logan was fantastic at baking, it really was just chemistry, it’s elements put together in just the right way to make something different. And although baking was his specialty, cooking was just never his thing. Whenever Logan tried to make anything, it exploded in his face. (figuratively… sometimes) So, he left the cooking to Patton, occasionally stepping in to help.

“Hello sunshine. Would you like some help?”

Patton looked up, tilting his head slightly, like a puppy. Adorable , Logan thought. Wait, what? Where did that come from?

“Oh! Hey Lo! Sure! Could ya help me make the potatoes?”

“Sure pat, what delicious concoction are we consuming this evening?”

“Steak and mashed potatoes. Nice alliteration there, teach!” Patton giggled.

“Nice word there, sunshine. Where-“

“I know big words!”

Logan and Patton continued chatting while cooking, Patton still trying to teach Logan how to cook, even though he knew Logan was hopeless. Soon, Virgil slumped in.

“Hi kiddo!” Patton called, “Are you ready for movie night?”

Virgil groaned, though Logan knew he was secretly pleased, Virgil had somewhat broke down when they had first invited him to join them. He had thought Logan, Roman, and Patton, were trying to… well, even Virgil didn’t exactly know what, but he was anxious about it for some reason, it’sdefinitely not that it’s quite literally his job to overthink things.

“...whatever” Virgil responded.

When Roman finally joined them, setting aside whatever he was working on in his room, the group sat down for dinner. Roman, as always, gulped down his food like a excited child, he was always over eager to get straight to the movie marathon. Especially if it was Disney.

That night, it happened to be Roman’s turn to chose the movies, so as soon as he was done gobbling down his food, Roman rushed to the TV, putting on Disney’s Hercules. With Roman’s urging, the other three finished up their dinners and slid onto the couch. Roman excitedly sat down in the middle, and started trying to convince Virgil to come cuddle with him, even though they both knew Roman would eventually end up with his boyfriend laying in his lap one way or the other.

As always, Logan sat in the corner, Patton right up against him. Logan put his arm around Patton, pulling him closer, because, well… for some inexplicable reason

Patton being closer was all he wanted.

When the the third movie was over, Patton got up, “Alright guys, I think it’s about time we get to bed.” Patton turned to Virgil, “Ya ready, kiddo?”

“Ughh, but it’s warm…” Virgil said from Romans arms.

Roman smiled softly at him, “It’s alright my dark prince, I shall join you soon.”

Virgil shot him a halfhearted glare, “Fine. But you better hurry up, princey.”

“Are you guys sure you’re okay with cleanup? Because I can-“

“Patton.” Logan cut him off, “You have been more than satisfactory, as you cooked dinner. And Roman and I are perfectly capable of a simple cleanup job. Go. Sleep.”

“Alright… if you’re sure…”

“Goodnight, sunshine.”

“Alright… night, Lo.”

“Sleep tight, Virgil, Patton.”

Right after Virgil and Patton left, Roman finally brought it up.

“So…” Roman said picking up the popcorn bowl from their shared couch, “When were you and padre gonna tell us?”

“Tell you about what?”

“You know… that you’re dating?”

After a beat of silence, Roman spoke again, “You two are dating, right?”

“Er- no Roman, I do not believe I know what you are talking about. What, er- may I ask, led you to this conclusion?”

“I thought it was rather obvious, you two are always giving each other pet names, and you’re both very… touchy. Besides, being the romance trait, I can just feel the love in the air.”

Logan blinked, this was new information for him, he knew he was a bit more… ‘touchy’ as Roman had put it, with Patton, but he had always thought that it was just how Patton was. He was like that with everyone… right?

“Firstly Roman, as you well know, you can not feel romance, just as Virgil can not smell fear. It is impossible, even in a place such as the mindscape.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I know lo, it’s an expression.”

“That is not- never mind. What- what did you mean by… pet names and ‘touchiness’? I do neither of those things.”

“Sure you do!” Roman scoffed, “Just now, you were cuddling with dad on the couch! it’s like every time you’re in a room together you’re calling each other things like ‘dear’, ‘sweetheart’, ‘love’, and of course, my personal favorite, ‘sunshine’. You’re always calling Patton ‘sunshine’. It’s disgustingly adorable.”

“Surely you’re dating… unless!?” Roman gasped dramatically, “do you- did you even notice that you’ve been sickly sweet with padre for years?”

“I- suppose not… goodnight Roman, it seems I have a lot to think about.”

“Alright, goodnight Lo. Try to figure this out.” Roman paused, “Wait! Lo, ya gotta help me clean up!” But at that point, Logan was already gone.

—-

As soon as Logan got back to his room, he flopped down head first on the bed. It was a tad extravagant, especially for him, but he was feeling- he was feeling a bit dramatic.

He honestly couldn’t believe he had never noticed that he called Patton sunshine, but now that Logan thought about it, he did it a lot. He supposed… he had just gotten so used to it that he didn’t think too much about what he called his opposite.

When he thought about it even more, he realized Patton always made him feel more… he was… happy when he was around his counterpart. Logan thought about how every time Patton smiled, his heart flipped, how whenever Patton laughed he felt like he was about to burst with joy, how whenever his sunshine was sad, Logan wanted to just wrap his arms around him and protect him with everything he had.

And that’s when Logan realized, the nickname he seemed to have come up with for Patton, ‘sunshine’, was just… completely perfect. It honestly encompassed everything he felt for Patton in just one word.

Shit.

Clearly he had to figure out a plan.

It was three hours later, and the best idea Logan had was to either tell Patton, which was clearly off the table for obvious reasons, or just… keep him at arms length for the rest of their existence, which honestly sounded infinitely worse.

Well... it seemed Logan needed to sort through all of this, but in the meantime he would avoid Patton as much as possible, as all evidence was pointing towards Patton causing these feelings.

—-

The next morning, Logan got up later than his normal time of 7:00, due to being up all night thinking. That day, it seemed he was awake by 9:37, a odd time for him indeed.

As Logan got dressed, he thought about his plan Last night it had been very hard to concentrate on anything due to sleep deprivation, no matter how hard he tried. So, he wrote it and simplified it into easy steps:

Step 1: Wake up later, this will bring less time to potentially socialize with Patton.

Step 2: Neglect board game nights and movie nights. When asked, tell them I have an excess of work.

Step 3: Avoid brushing up against Patton as much as possible. No touching, and no cuddling.

Step 4: Speak to Patton as little as possible. No slip ups or calling him ‘sunshine’.

There. An easy, comprehensive list of rules for Logan to follow. This should be easy, right?

Logan had eventually come to the realization that though his function is Thomas’s logic, he is more than that. Logic is just a title, like a job, and just as a person who does their job isn’t only the that, Logan is more than his title. With this realization came his admittance that he did, in fact, have feelings. Of course, he was just so used to repressing his emotions, that it was very bad in the beginning. With the help of Patton, Logan was able to emote and experience his feelings much more. It truly was a radical improvement.

That didn’t mean he understood any of them. Usually when he was feeling something abnormal, he would go to Patton for help, but it seemed he couldn’t do that in this specific situation.

When Logan was dressed and prepared, he finally left his room and headed to the kitchen. When he got there, he was met with just what he was trying to avoid: Patton. He was standing at the sink and washing the dishes. He seemed to be humming some tune under his breath.

Just as Logan was about to turn around and go back to his room, Patton glanced up, catching him before he could do anything. “Hey lo! Good morning!” Logan blushed, “good morning Patton, I-“

“Ya missed breakfast! Even Virgil was up before you, that’s weird…”

“A-Ah yes, I had some work to do last night, and ended up s-staying up later than intended. I apologize.” Logan adjusted his glasses nervously, silently hoping Deceit wouldn’t show up.

“It’s fine Lo! I saved some extra food for you anyways, and maybe we could watch a movie after I’m done cleaning up!”

Logan thought for a moment, though he really did love spending time with Patton, he just couldn’t risk slipping up. “Well… I’m sorry Patton, I really do have a lot of work to do. I appreciate the food, thank you for thinking of me.”

Patton’s smile dropped, and it almost broke Logan’s resolve. Almost. “Oh… not even for big hero six?”

“I apologize.”

Patton plastered a smile on, “... it’s ok Logan. Another time?”

“I suppose. Thank you once again for the food, su- pat.” Logan corrected himself.

The nickname seemed to make Patton’s smile just a little bit brighter… but that can’t be true. All he did was provide explanatory exposition and bring the mood down. Patton’s just being nice, as always. Right?

“No prob, bob!”

Logan hesitated before saying, “it’s… logan.”

Patton squealed, “you made a Steven universe reference! I knew you liked that show!”

“It is… an admirable series. Goodbye, Patton.”

Logan’s plan was a failure already. He really needed to do more to avoid Patton.

—-

And that’s what Logan did for the next three and a half weeks. Anytime it wasn’t dinner, Logan avoided everyone, especially Patton. Before walking into a room, he would peek in and check for any movement or voices. If Logan heard anything, he would turn around and go back to his room. This method worked well when avoiding people and trying to work, but not so much for his health. There were days when Logan would go without any social interaction except at dinner, which he kept at a minimum.

Logan knew he wasn’t doing too well, he didn’t sleep too much once he broke his sleep schedule, and most days he only had one meal because Patton was in the commons a surprising amount. But most of all, Logan missed the others, he missed Roman and his extravagant stories about princes and dragon witches that he used to secretly love, he missed sitting in silence with Virgil, quietly enjoying each other’s company.

Although he missed his friends, he missed Patton more. He missed Patton’s exuberant smiles, how he listened intently when Logan was explaining something, simply because he loved learning. He missed Patton’s love of all things, no matter how small, (excluding spiders) he missed his pure outlook on things, his heart that was just a bit too big sometimes, and his loving, caring nature. Patton had always been special to him, but in a different way than the others. It was day fifteen when he figured out how and why Patton was different.

The realization only drove him further away.

—-

It was day twenty five when the others confronted him about his absence around them. Logan felt the pull of Patton summoning him for dinner. It was 6:30, so this was not unusual.

When Logan rose up, he noticed was immediately being watched by all of his fellow sides, including deceit. Now that was abnormal.

“W- what is… what is happening? Why is deceit here? Did- did I do something to upset any of y-you?”

Patton softened, putting a hand on Logan’s shoulder. Logan shivered at the touch. “Oh, no Logan, honey. Deceit is hear as a… lie detector, of sorts. We’re worried about you, Lo.”

“Worried? W- why? I’m fine.”

“Lie,” deceit called.

Oh, so that was why he was here.

Virgil spoke up, “You’re clearly not fine, specs. Spill.”

“What Virgil means is that… well, pocket protector, frankly…” Roman said.

Patton interjected, “You’ve been avoiding us! Why? I thought we were working on emotions?” He cocked his head to the side.

“W- well…” logan glanced at deceit, “I… um. I was trying to just avoid you, pat. Th-the others just sort of... were an unintentional consequence…”

Logan, Patton, and Roman looked at deceit, he shrugged, “No lie there.”

Tears started streaming down Patton’s cheeks, “Logan…”

“I-I’m sorry.” Logan said, before sinking down to his room.

He rose back up in his room, and the first thing he did was flop down on his bed. Logan knew he needed to talk to Patton, and he wanted to! He really did… he was just… nervous. Incredibly, insanely nervous. And finally, Logan let himself cry. It was soft, few tears were actually shed, and Logan still felt awful. The first thing that Patton had taught him about emotions, his emotions, was that if he wanted to get through anything, he would have to acknowledge and recognize them.

So Logan followed Patton’s advise, he acknowledged that he was nervous, sad, and very scared. He was scared of what the others would say, would they hate him? (though Patton could never hate anyone. Not really.)

Logan had never really ‘fit in’ with his fellow sides, he was too blunt, harsh, emotionless. Would they kick him out? No. Cognitive distortions. That’s what this was. He just wanted… he needed… he really needed a hug. A few more tears dripped down his face.

A few minutes later, Logan heard shuffling outside his door. The shuffling stopped, before a few quiet knocks sounded, along with a soft voice calling “knock, knock?” Logan rolled his eyes affectionately, he’s such a dork, Logan thought. Patton’s voice was soft, almost uncertain. “He Lo, can we uh- talk? Can I come in?”

Logan thought for a moment, he really did want a hug, and Patton would be sure to give him one, no matter how much he didn’t deserve it. Logan sighed, no use putting off the inevitable.

“Sure.”

Patton opened the door, and as soon as he made eye contact Logan looked away. Patton came and sat on the opposite side of the bed as him. Logan shuddered.

“So… I guess I should start, huh?” Patton’s eyes were red, reminding Logan that he had caused him to cry earlier, which somehow made Logan feel worse. Logan nodded, not looking up.

“Did- did I do something? I’m sorry. I-I want to apologize for what I did, but- but I really can’t think of what I did to make you m- mad…”

Logan looked up, shocked. He didn’t realize Patton thought he was mad at him, especially when all he’s ever done is be his amazingly kind, generous self. It was just such a Patton thing to do.

“Oh, sunshine… I’m certainly not… a- angry at you.” Ever, Logan thought.

“Th- then why have you been avoiding me?”

“I- feelings.”

“Oh, Lo… why didn’t you tell me?”

“This erm- concerned you.”

“Me?” Patton cocked his head in that frustratingly adorable way.

“I- can we… talk about this later? I… need a hug?” Logan asked timidly.

“Oh, Lo.” Patton grinned, “You know all you need to do was ask for a cuddle party! Should I get the others?”

Logan thought for a moment, “Yes please… I promise I’ll talk later, but… I just really need to be with you guys right now.”

Patton jumped up, “Okay! In here?” When Logan nodded, Patton smiled enthusiastically, “I’ll get em!”

Before Patton could get out of the room, Logan called out, “Patton!”

Patton turned and looked at Logan, “I’m- I apologize for avoiding you. I really do l-lo- lo- appreciate your presence.” Patton’s smile widened, “it’s okay Lo. I love you too.”

—-

A few days later, Logan found himself thinking of Patton. He was so kind, letting Logan have space, even though he deserved an explanation. It was on this day that he finally decided to tell Patton about his feelings. He had integrated right back into the mind palace as if he had never left. It was nice… all the affection, even if he didn’t deserve all their love.

Nonetheless, a plan had formed in his head, but it meant telling Roman he was right, which was always just so fun .

Logan walked to romans door, tapping two sharp knocks on the door.

“Come in, Lo!”

Logan opened the door to see Virgil and Roman cuddling on the couch. “Oh. Erm- am I disturbing something here?”

“Nah, you’re good,” Virgil said, “We were just hangin’ out.”

“Do you need something, friend? Roman asked.

“Well… I uh- need to talk to you, Roman.”

“Do I need to leave?” Virgil said.

“No er-you’re good. I need to get this off my chest to both of you anyway.” Virgil nodded, tilting his head in indication for Logan to continue. “Well, I might have a crush on… a person. It’s why I shut myself off from you guys. I wanted to work through some things, but I did it in an unhealthy way. I cut you off, and I am truly sorry.”

“That’s very sweet Lo, but I have two questions,” only two? Logan thought. “One: Who the heckity heck do you have a crush on? Oh my goodness. Is it Patton?”

Logan blushed, “I’m gonna take that as a yes?” Logan nodded.

“You have a crush on Patton?” Virgil shrugged, “eh, makes sense. I always did call you the mom.”

“You did?”

Roman interjected, “were getting off topic! Question two: why did you come to me? Do you need advice from the one and only romance side? I say go for it. Patton won’t-“

“I’m not here for advise.”

“Good,” Virgil said, “‘Cuz Roman sucks at giving it.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know-“

“I need your help. I’d like to make a sunflower field at midday in the imagination.”

“Oh.” Roman said, “I can do that. But… why?”

“I- Well I’m gonna confess to Patton. He's my sunshine.”

Roman smiled, “Okay. When do you want it?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Alright. I can have it done in fifteen minutes. Go get him, Lo”

“Thank you so much Roman, Virgil. I’m sorry once again.”

Roman gestured wildly, “anything for true love!”

“Ignore him,” Virgil turned his body to Logan, “good luck Lo. But if you hurt him…” he trailed off.

“Do you really think I could so much as harm a hair on his body? He’s literally and metaphorically rather light of my life. I think I lo- love him.”

Virgil seemed satisfied with that. “This is gonna go great Lo. Good luck, have fun, and take dad’s emotions into consideration.”

Logan nodded and sunk down to the commons to stress eat crofters.

Thirty minutes later, when Logan had finally gathered up the courage to go knock on Patton’s door, he put away his jam and headed upstairs. He knocked on Patton’s door, waiting to hear a small “come in,” before stepping in.

“Good evening Patton. I was wondering if you might…” Logan stopped, Patton looked to be deep in thought and was currently staring at an old photo book.

“Oh… hey Lo. Do you… need anything?” Patton said, not looking up from his book.

“Er- well… that’s sort of the thing. I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to the imagination?”

Patton looked up, “Er- sure. Wh- why me?”

“Uh. I appreciate your company, of course.” Logan held out an arm, “shall we?”

Patton giggled, putting his book down and linking his arm with Logan’s, “Sure!”

As they were walking out of the room, Patton asked, “so… what do you have planned in the imagination?”

Logan looked down at Patton and winked, “I guess you will just have to see, will you not?” He smiled as Patton started giggling once again.

When they arrived at romans room, Logan pushed the door open, heading straight to the nice looking cabinet that held the entrance to the imagination. Just like the in ‘the Lion, the Which, and the Wardrobe’.

“Shall we?” Logan asked as he beckoned Patton to come open the door. Patton opened the wardrobe to reveal a small wooden gazebo with a small bench in the center, surrounded by a field of sunflowers, all facing the midday sun.

Patton gasped, Logan could see the stars in his eyes. “Logan… It’s gorgeous…”

Logan’s cheeks were a rosey shade of pink by now, “Yes… it really is, isn’t it? Roman did outdo himself.” Logan reached out and touched a sunflower, “utterly realistic as well, isn’t it?”

Logan walked over to Patton and placed his hand on his opposite’s. “Come sit on this bench with me, will you?” Patton obliged, looking into Logan’s eyes, “is something wrong, Lo? It seems like somethin’s on your mind.”

“Well, actually… there is something…” Logan paused, waiting for Patton to signal he was listening. Patton nodded, so Logan continued, turning away to look at the flowers, “As you know, I have been struggling with feelings. Expressing and feeling my emotions has always been something I have repressed. I told myself it was for the greater good, that Thomas would be happier and more efficient without me butting in.”

“Sometimes, I still believe that, to an extent.” Logan faced Patton, “But… you have truly shown me true kindness understanding, and for that I am so very grateful. You have helped me learn, something I love, I’ve learned about sadness, anger, hope, joy, and… love.”

Patton’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears, his mouth open in an ‘o’ shape. “Logan… I-

Logan cut him off, “There’s more.” He took Patton’s hands gently, slowly and gently enough that Patton could pull away if he wanted to. “Roman asked me a few weeks ago at movie night if we were dating. I told him no, of course,” Patton’s pace seemed to fall a bit, “So I asked him why he thought so. He said- well, he listed many examples, but the most prominent on that stood out to me was my calling you sunshine. Now-“

Logan took a deep breath, “I started avoiding you, and in turn, the others. I don’t know why, I suppose it was so that I could avoid emotions. I even made a list. How silly is that! Midway through though… I realized how perfectly the nickname fit. You are completely and totally my sunshine. You give out so much love and light… your smile is blindingly beautiful, you laugh is music to my ears. But the thing that made so much sense to me… is that… well, if you’re the sunshine, I am the sunflower. I will always, always look to you. You give me life. Because… well,” Logan looked down, “I love you.”

After his confession, they both fell silent. Logan couldn’t bring himself to look up. What if- “Hey, Lo can you look at me?” Patton took his had and placed it gently under his chin, tilting Logan’s head up. Their eyes met. Patton had tears streaming down his face, “I- I have been wanting you to say that for years ! I love you too, Lo!”

“Really? You’re not just saying that, because if you are… if you are I don’t think I will be able to move on.”

Patton’s face fell, “Oh, baby… I would never do that to you. I promise.”

Logan smiled shyly. Before he could even form a coherent sentence, Patton was surging forward, stopping right before his lips. “May I?” Logan simply nodded, and Patton was kissing him, and he was kissing back, and it was a swirl of emotions. Logan was ecstatic, it was truly the best moment of his existence, and he never wanted it to end.

What Patton pulled away, Logan was left stunned. Patton grinned and touched their foreheads together, “we should get going, as romantic as this is. How did you come up with this anyway? It’s so unlike you.”

Logan blinked, pulled from his trance, “Well, I guess you just bring that part of me out, sunshine.” He grinned.

#patton sanders #logicality #logan sanders #logan angst #sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #requited love

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