#So scared to post this in the wild. Afraid to be cringe
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Rereading the beginning of the Eunyung's Home arc right now and yeah...when Eunyung's mom tells him "why don't you just apologize? Why do you bring up the school play event again after so many years?" it really connects with what Eunyung says to Haejoon in ch201, huh. That it would be so nice if he was nice like Haejoon and could accept everything and not be so hung up on things like that. Maybe if he was like Haejoon his relationship with his mother could be better?(I don't think so. but Eunyung maybe does).
But in parallel we also see how this aspect of Eunyung, being hung up on things and staying angry can also be helpful. It's because Eunyung is like that that he doesn't let Haejoon apologize to his mom when he shouldn't have to. It's because he is like that that he makes Haejoon have a medical diagnosis after his homeroom teacher hit him. It's because he is like that the bullying situation in the Marie arc could be resolved as well. As Haejoon says, it's also thanks to Eunyung that he could sort out things with his uncle and receive more allowance. This side of Eunyung that every adults around him try to make him suppress is good and healthy. It's this anger that causes change. It makes things harder for him and it causes more ruckus, sure, but Haejoon's acceptance in these moments is hurtful as well, it doesn't resolve the issue at hand, it just makes him carry all the burden. Haejoon grew up wanting to cause the less problems and worries possible to his mom (and now his uncle) and avoids confrontations with adults as a result (also a direct consequence of when he lost his mother probably), while Eunyung grew up fantasizing about his parents receiving punishments for all their abuse. The consequences were so bad to him when he tried it's the one thing he gave up on though, so it's no surprise he lashes out whenever else he can.
When you think about it it's also connected to their level of trust in adults. Haejoon relatively trusts adults. If you take the New Dorm arc, Haejoon was planning to tell other adults about the situation there, before Eunyung told him not to (pretty violently lol) because he can't trust adults to deal with it or believe them. So Eunyung uses his own way to deal with it and it works! But Haejoon trusts adults to deal with other adults and yeah. That's how it should be and go. But Eunyung presents the "but" of this. That's how it should be, but in some cases it doesn't work because adults are douchebags, and for Eunyung it's the majority of them. Haejoon grew up with a good(even if not perfect) mom getting angry for him so he knows good adults exist. He also was moved by Juwan's mom's kindness as well(even if that makes him embarassed too). Eunyung doesn't, though, so he has to rely on himself and get angry for himself, because otherwise who will?
Writing all this I'm like....yeah No Home is all about balance. Haejoon and Eunyung searching for the right amount of distance and closeness in their relationship. Searching for the balance in their distrust of adults too. Eunyung can't trust adults for very understandable reasons, but the arc with Haejoon's uncle shows us that adults are simply struggling sometimes and trying their best, even if they're clumsy. It's true Haejoon's uncle was drinking, but he's not an irredeemable piece of shit like his father either. But it was a situation where Haejoon couldn't rely on any adults either, after all his uncle is basically his only family left. And that's why Eunyung's point of view was so helpful.
Idk man I just love the hundreds of layers in this manhwa so much. Like it's not just "the best is not to be extreme <3 not too much not too little" it's "sometimes you have no choice but to be too much. Sometimes it's destructive, though. But sometimes it's the only solution. And /sometimes/ you need a bit of the two. Sometimes both solutions work equally well. Sometimes the consequences are bad and sometimes everything ends well" like yeah life really be complicated and unpredictable like that. There isn't one guide to follow and that will work no matter what, you constantly have to adapt to the situations and people around you. Something something Eunyung and his father but if I don't end this post now I never will.
#no home manhwa#txt#ch201 gave me severe no home brainrot im afraid#please read no home if you havent!! i say this every day i know but it's really .so good#i can't put it into words#but it changes your brain chemistry#Wanan the god of storytelling fr#I swear I didn't plan to write so much but I kept having new ideas and new things to say...#So scared to post this in the wild. Afraid to be cringe#But I'm free!!!#This is my default mode btw. I fight constantly the urge to talk non stop like that 7/7 and sometimes i lose.#no home#lumen rants
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Pt.16 "The After Party"
CW: post-torture, a bunch of different weapons used in torture, injury description, blood/gore/bruises, dislocated shoulder, candles, fire, drugs/alcohol, regretful whumper, whumper trying to be caretaker, intimate whumper, tics/tourettes, abandonment by parents mention, bondage, physical/emotional/sexual abuse themes (explicit), noncon/dubcon mention, religion mention, bar setting, panic attack, drunk driving, food mention (let me know if I missed anything!)
Elias was incredibly out of it after he was brought back upstairs, his head was foggy, every now in then he felt a tiny shocking feeling behind his skull from being tased a few too many times. He was confused and anxious still, and, even though his body was tired beyond what he thought possible, he wouldn't allow himself to sleep, too afraid of August hurting him when he was vulnerable, too afraid of having another nightmare. So instead he was sitting on the couch with a blanket wrapped tight around him, waiting for August to get out of the shower. He had allowed him the luxury of being alone then, saying he felt bad for scaring him so horribly.
It was dark outside, and August had lit a few candles before he left him alone. Elias knew the lighting was supposed to be comforting, but the orange glow of the tiny flame only made his chest tight with anxiety, made him incredibly aware of the burns all over him and just how much they stung. With a groan, he pushed himself off the couch, limping with his arms wrapped around himself to try and hold back his whines of pain. Every step sent a jolt to his left shoulder, every inch of fabric stung his skin where it brushed offensively against his new wounds. He found the bottle of wine that was still on the counter from earlier and popped the top off. When he glanced back to the living room, he realized he wouldn't be able to handle the pain of walking back to the couch (and there was no fire in the kitchen, which he found more solace in then he should have), so instead he slid down the wall to the floor, waiting for the aching to subside before he pressed the bottle to his lips and took a few swigs.
"Elias are you...?" August trailed off as he found the living room empty. His lips instantly pressed into a nervous scowl; his pet wasn't wear he'd left him, and with him so hurt and freaked out he was worried that he'd wondered off alone. "Eli? Where are you, bunny?"
"I'm in the kitchen," he answered. He looked up when August sauntered in, sweatpants hanging off his hips and his wet hair dripping onto his skin. "Hi." He watched August sit down in front of him, relieved that he didn't touch him.
"What are you doing on the floor? Did you get hurt?"
"Just got up to get some wine, never made it back to the couch." After he took a few drinks, he held up the bottle to show August with a grin. When August shook his head politely, he pulled it back to his chest to hold it close. He looked up at August, his vision dulled around the edges from pain and fatigue and fear, and huffed to himself. "God, for an asshole you are so hot. If I weren't so afraid of you I'd have your tongue in my throat right now." As soon as he said it, he cringed and ducked his head down. He'd called August an asshole, as if he hadn't just chained him up and mutilated him for lesser reason. He was such an idiot and why couldn't he just shut his mouth why did he always have to say such dumb shit because now August was going to be so mad and August would hurt him and-
August laughed?
August laughed, but it was a short, amused laugh, not a sincere one. Elias didn't sound like himself, August realized. His voice was raw and broken up from screaming, but mostly it was slurred and faraway, like he was too scared to hear himself speaking. From the moment he had to rush back down the basement stairs when he heard Elias positively shrieking, it had seemed like something had really snapped inside of him. When he realized that Elias thought the basement was on fire, saw the wild look in his eyes as he tried to explain it, August felt suffocated with guilt.
He was always doing this, always pushing and pushing past what he knew was the breaking point for his own amusement, his own sick pleasure, and then being upset when they were broken beyond repair. He did it with Allen, too, once or twice.
The first time was when he had tied him up and carved some vulgar words into his skin, to never let him forget what he was to everyone but August, to make him feel ugly and unwanted and...well, broken. He left him there overnight, naked and in a puddle of his own blood and unable to move with the rope around his arms. In the morning, August had asked him if he wanted to shower and Allen told him that he didn't deserve to be clean. The only way he could convince him to let August clean him off was by telling him that he looked filthy, all covered in drying blood. While he was carefully washing the blood off of him in the shower, he noticed Allen had this sort of empty look in his eyes, his face emotionless and not even twisting up in pain when August ran his soapy fingers over his new cuts. He felt...annoyed, mostly, annoyed that Allen wasn't fun anymore. But he also felt bad, remorseful, even.
The next time he'd ruined him was different, it had been months since they'd seen each other, and Allen had a little bit of time to heal. August thought that meant he had a little extra room for pain, like he was a clean slate, but he had been wrong. So, when Allen fell asleep early and left August alone and bored, he got pretty high and decided to wake him up to mess with him. He didn't really even have a reason to hurt him, of course, but he could always convince Allen that he'd done something to deserve it, he was easy to do that with. It was fun, he'd kicked him and thrown him around and at one point had punched him so hard in the face that he passed out and bright red blood stained the white of his eye. Every time he looked back on it, he told himself he should've stopped right then, he was hurt enough. But August had never known self restraint, he'd never known boundaries, he wanted to push and push until there's nowhere left to go. So he choked him, picked him up and pressed him against the wall and crushed his windpipe for a little bit. He wasn't gonna kill him, it wasn't out of control like it had been with Elias, but Allen didn't know that, so he was frenetic and trembling with fear. When August dropped him to the floor, he could hear him whispering something, breathless words barely making their way past his lips. August crouched down to join him on the floor, listening closely to try and hear what he was saying. He couldn't help the astonished laugh he let out when he realized that Allen was praying. Allen, who could handle his drugs better than anyone August had ever met, who had told August once that life sometimes felt so meaningless the dark nothingness after death sounded much more attractive, was so afraid August was about to kill him that he was praying to a god he didn't even believe in. Praying to be saved, to be forgiven, a last ditch effort to reserve a place somewhere nice, even if he didn't really deserve that. August felt horrible, especially when he tried to touch him and Allen let out a whimper, scrambled away from him, and then continued with his prayer much more desperately.
And now, here he was, causing irreversible damage to Elias. Did he not learn from Allen already how shitty it felt to see the destruction play out in front of him? He couldn't stop himself though, he was a temperamental child who only knew how to play rough, and Elias was his favorite toy.
"Let me know when you're not scared anymore, I'd be more than happy to oblige." August muttered, keeping his tone gentle and nonthreatening so that Elias wouldn't look so damn afraid of him. That was another thing about this depth of damage, that it took away any remaining hope that Elias had that August would be gentle with him. Usually there would be some fraction of Elias that didn't look completely scared of him, August could find amusement, sometimes lust (which was always paired with an equal amount of confusion and shame, but lust nonetheless), sometimes attraction, very often disgust. But now all of that was completely overshadowed by fear, he looked as if he couldn't ever remember a time he wasn't terrified of August and he would be for the rest of his life. And it was really kind of breaking August's heart because that was probably true.
Elias smiled weakly, then set the wine bottle down to the side. He slowly lowered himself down, only allowing one pained cry slip out, and set his head in August's lap. He let out a pleased sigh when he felt August's fingers in his hair, but wouldn't relax anymore than that. He wasn't that comfortable, and no matter how much affection August showered him in, it was always outweighed by fear, especially now.
"Did I...was I misbehaving?" He asked. August scratched behind his ear gently, taking a deep breath. Elias tensed. He had irritated him with the question, he wasn't supposed to drink the wine, it was expensive, he wasn't supposed to relax, he was in trouble, he was bad, he was going to get hurt again-
"No, little one. No, you've been doing so good. You're a good boy."
"Oh," he whimpered, "oh that's good to hear. I thought I was in trouble." He cuddled closer, his breath catching at the soreness that lit up again at the movement. "You just hurt me cause you felt like it, then?"
Now August stopped petting him altogether, and Elias felt tears in his eyes. Why couldn't he just shut the hell up? He just kept saying shit he wasn't supposed to say and doing things wrong and when was it going to end?
"Elias, I just...I.."
"It's ok!" Elias assured him, forcing himself to sit up, his face twisting up and his chest fluttering in breathlessness. "Y-you...mm fuck...you can do that if you want to. You can do whatever you want to me, August. I didn't mean to ask it that way."
August took Elias's face in his hands, smiling softly at him. He looked so beautiful, when he was eager to please and trying not to anger him, his voice was fragile and his body was trembling. He kissed his cheek softly, listening to the way his breathing faltered when he got closer. "Elias I think I might love you."
Elias froze, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed as August held him. The words were jarring enough on their own, but when he was already so disoriented and fatigued, they sent him reeling. "August?" He breathed, voice soaked in disbelief.
"I do. You're so perfect and you're everything I could ever want, I love you." As he spoke, he stroked his cheek softly, despite the petrified stare on his face. He had tears in his eyes, and August couldn't tell why. He moved closer to him, tilting his chin up so he was looking up at him. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"
Elias only continued to stare at him for a moment, perplexed and overwhelmed. August had drilled it into him that love wasn't for him, he had spent weeks convincing him that no one loved him, no one was looking for him, and it was all because he simply just wasn't worth it. He was below everyone, he was less than human, and so he just wasn't designed to be loved. August didn't know it, but Elias had since taken that ideology and used it as a reason for why his parents gave him up, and he thought about it every time Tyson told him he loved him, eventually using it to convince himself that he was lying. August had ruined him in that way, and now he was just going to revoke it just to tell Elias he loved him? Even when he'd just torn him to shreds? "Y-you just...I uh, I'm just confused." He whispered. A few tears slipped down his cheeks, and August was quick to wipe them away. "I'm not a person. You t-told me I was just a toy, how could you love me? I'm not...I'm not worthy of love. I don't deserve-"
"Shh, bunny. You don't need to be upset." He stood up with a sigh, helping Elias up slowly. He frowned when Elias choked out a disgruntled whine, grabbing onto his arm tightly. "Let's go get you in the shower, get you cleaned up. Sound good?"
Elias nodded weakly and limped along with him to the bathroom. August leaned against the counter while he showered the blood off of himself, the water stung all of the cuts and burns, and he could only use one arm because the other hurt too bad to move. Once he was done, he turned the shower off and opened the curtain, looking at August warily.
"I think my shoulder is fucked up," he mumbled, "I cant move it."
August stood up and handed him a towel, then helped him step out of the shower. "Careful," he mumbled. "Let me look at it?"
Elias nodded slowly, tense under his touch when he grabbed his arm. August inspected it carefully, his fingertips barely brushing against his skin, sighing heavily when even that made Elias hiss. "I think it's dislocated. I'm so sorry."
Elias frowned at him, shuffling away from him. The words sounded foreign in August's mouth, he didn't think he'd ever heard him say that so...genuinely. "S-sorry?"
"I swear I didn't mean to hurt you so bad, I forget how breakable and small you are, I'm sorry-"
"Stop it." He whimpered. "Stop apologizing to me. I don't deserve that."
"I'm gonna have to reset it," he grumbled, "it's gonna hurt. Like... A lot."
Elias took a deep breath, then lifted his arm a tiny bit with a wince. "Do it, you have to do it fast so I can-" he was cut off as August yanked his arm out and up, a loud snapping sound rang out. He screamed loudly, collapsing against August. "Oh son of a fuck oh my God!"
"I'm so sorry, Elias." He held him close, rubbing his back gently. He was shivering in August's arms, he thought, for a brief second, that Elias was going to pass out. Something about his watery, uncontrollable sobbing, slightly weakened by how exhausted he was, just wasn't as beautiful and sing-song as it usually was. It was just heartwrenching, it was pathetic, it was ugly, it was so human. August wanted to throw up, knowing he caused it all. "I know, it hurts. I know."
Elias kept sobbing, but slowly, it did feel a little better. It wasn't burning as bad, and now it felt easier to move, not so stuck. He wrapped his arms around August's waist and closed his eyes, trying to stop crying, not wanting to upset August anymore and get hurt again.
"I'm o-o-ok," he whimpered, "thank yo..you." August wasn't sold, and he held him close still, allowing him to cry, apologizing every few minutes. Elias was even more freaked out then, August was telling him he loved him and saying he felt bad for hurting him, where was it all coming from? Was he toying with his head, trying to make him vulnerable or let his guard down so that it would be worse when he hurt him again? He didn't think he could handle that, the physical pain was hard enough, couldn't August just hurt him like that? Did he have to get off on his blood and bruises and his crushed ego and vulnerability? He felt like August was doing absolutely everything he could to ruin him, inside and out, physically and spiritually and physiologically and sexually, and he wondered what he did to deserve to be destroyed like that.
"Alright," August huffed finally, pulling away from Elias, "let's get you dressed and go to sleep, yeah?"
"I...I don't wanna sleep," he sniffled, his eyes focused on August's bare chest, too nervous to look up at him.
"Why not?" As he spoke, August led him down the hallway to one of the many bedrooms, letting go of him to find clothes. "You really should, you're probably exhausted."
"I'm too scared." Elias admitted, wrapping his arms around himself. When August came back to him with the clothes, he looked at him sadly.
"Alright, we'll stay up then. We can go to the bar, get some drinks." He pulled the loose button up shirt over Elias's head, being mindful of his injuries. He buttoned it up a little higher for him, trying to hide the gruesome injuries that, disappointingly, were still just as bad after the shower. "Only if you want to."
"That sounds fun," he whispered, holding onto his shoulders as he helped pull his pants on. Once August was standing straight, Elias ducked his head down, like he was in trouble and was too ashamed to look directly at him.
"Do you wanna get high before we go?" He asked, keeping his voice soft and non-threatening. Elias was too scared to even try to sleep, and August had to fix that.
Elias nodded, but he was confused by all the questions. Since when was he allowed to want things? Last time he checked, what he wanted didn't matter. August made sure to beat that rule into him quick enough. "Wh-whatever you wanna do..."
After they did a few lines, which made Elias whine with how it burned his bruised and bloodied nose and hurt his chest to breathe in so hard, they drove into town. Elias was feeling much better already, just high enough that he couldn't really feel his pain. August was right when he said that expensive, genuine coke was far better than the stuff off he streets they did in the states. It was nice that his thoughts were a little less muddled, even though now they were fast and racing and just as confusing. And August was back to his usual attitude, cocky and dismissive and teasing. Elias was glad he wasn't being so kind to him anymore, it was beginning to make him question everything that had happened, make his head swim every time he tried to figure it out. He understood this, it was what he was used to. It was easier to just allow August to be mean and to hate him for it than it was to believe that August liked -or loved, but Elias didn't want to acknowledge that-him and still chose to hurt him.
The bar they went to was more like a club, it was loud and crowded with dancing drunks. Elias was surprised that August was allowing him to be around so many people, especially with how injured he was.
August latched onto his arm hard abruptly, pulling him close to speak to him. Elias flinched away from the touch, but it was too late, he was held still anyway. "Go have a seat at the bar, I'm gonna go find a friend."
Elias nodded obediently, limping through the sea of people. He had to hold back groans when he was jostled around or hit with a flying limb, trying not to draw attention to himself. Finally, he sat at the bar, head dropped down to look at his hands, folded neatly in his lap. The shirt August gave him was huge, probably to cover how fucked up he was, but he looked stupid. From the few people he saw walking in, he was way under-dressed.
"Bonjour," someone shouted, making him jump to look up at the bartender, who was smiling at him. "Qu'est ce que je peux vous servir?" (What can I get for you?)
Elias blinked at her, eyes wide. No wonder August was ok with him being alone here, because he couldn't ask for help if he wanted to. "Oh, uh...I don't speak..."
"Donnez-lui un verre de vin rouge, s'il vous plaît." (Give him a glass of red wine, please.) He heard August say from behind him, making him swivel around. An older man was standing behind him, smiling on at the interaction. He watched as they sat down next to him, then realized he was staring and turned his head downward. He was wary of the stranger, the last one had been so heartless, had filmed him and watched him with a hungry, predatory look on his face. Would August put on a show for this one as well?
Elias had a few glasses of wine, August handed him a small blue pill at some point, then he was on the edge of blacking out, right where he was comfortable. This was the only way he couldn't feel the fear, the hopelessness, how much he didn't want to be there. Suddenly, he was aware of the loud music. It was loud and fast and heavy, and even though he couldn't understand the words, just like with everyone but August here, it sounded fun. And now he was high and he wanted to get up and dance.
He staggered to his feet, shuffling right up close to August, grabbing the bar next to him to hold himself steady. August looked him up and down, smiling to himself.
"Wanna dance?" He asked, his words bubbly and slightly slurred. August chuckled at him, shaking his head dismissively. "Come oonnn, August. Come dance with me."
"No, you go ahead," he instructed, rubbing his hand against his hip gently, "just be careful."
With a sigh of defeat, Elias turned on his heel and made his way into the crowd, dancing along to the loud music. If he closed his eyes and just moved, just felt the bass, felt the suffocating amount of people around him, it felt like he didn't exist at all. And neither did his problems. He was just movement, just another body. For some reason, he began to cry, tears streaming down his face and felt half-hearted, muted sobs ripping through his throat. He slowly stopped dancing, caving in on himself. He was pulled to the ground by a heavy aching in his chest, and he sunk to his knees and covered his face. The music was now frightening and too loud. People were kicking against him by accident, he was all alone in his head, he couldn't even tell someone he was in trouble. This was hell. This was worse than dying.
Hands were on him suddenly, hoisting him to his feet and ushering him away from the crowd, outside of the bar. He looked up to see August, a look of panic on his face. "What is it? What happened?"
"I can't d-d-do this!" He wailed, breaking away from him and pulling at his hair. "It's so f-fucking loud I can't breathe-"
August grabbed him and held him tight against his chest, despite the struggle and shrieking that Elias gave. He held him there and rubbed his back gently, waiting for him to calm down. It seemed like he was having a full blown breakdown, and August knew it was because he was beyond exhausted, physically and mentally.
"Let's go get some food, somewhere quiet, and when I sober up we'll go home. Ok?" He only asked this when Elias seemed less hysterical, and was pleased when he nodded obediently.
They got to a small diner, August didn't let on to Elias that he was nervous about driving with how fucked up he was, and they miraculously arrived in one piece. August noticed that Elias was shaking as he helped him out of the car, so he wrapped his arms around him and rubbed his arms gently, trying to warm him up before they went in. Only after he let go did he realize that Elias wasn't cold, just ruined and panicked. When they got inside, they sat close against each other in the booth. August drank coffee until he was feeling sober, but neither of them wanted to eat with the coke still in their system.
"What happened, angel?" He asked him softly.
Elias was staring at the table with wide eyes, stare vacant. "I dunno. It was...loud."
With a huff, August pulled Elias against him, allowing him to rest his head against his shoulder. They didn't speak beyond that, and August was relieved when he heard Elias snoring softly. He decided he would order a meal, just so that they didn't make them leave before Elias woke up. He picked around at his food, trying to busy his restless hands. Elias was so still, completely slumped against him as his fatigue grabbed hold of him and pulled him down into the darkness of sleep. When he realized he wasn't going to wake back up anytime soon, he simply paid the bill and then carried Elias back out to the car. He was lucky it was so late and the only other person in the restaurant that saw them leaving was the waiter, who didn't look like he really gave two shits how sketchy it looked. August had made sure to tip him extra, because of it. He wasn't as drunk anymore, and he drove back to the house with the windows rolled down and the music playing softly. Elias slept the entire ride.
#whump intro#whump character#whump oc#whump writing#whump drabble#whump community#whump blog#whumpblr#whump#captivity whump#emotional whump#pet whump#whump tropes#whump scenario#whump ideas#whump art#whump prompt#whumper#defiant whumpee#caretaker#whump fic#whump prompts#intimate whumper#whump aftermath#whump aesthetic#whump comfort#whump challenge#whump concept#whump dialogue#whump story
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Go ahead and scroll by cause this is gonna be another “tumblr is the only good social media site” post and also a really lame personal post that no one but me should care about. I despised social media for the last twelve years or so because I got bullied real hard by people in my high school over Facebook and I kept my online presence pretty minimal afterwards for a long time. I had tumblr to follow other artists and maybe posted a drawing every few months for my two or three homestuck fandom friends and otherwise I was mostly a ghost online. It wasn’t till tumblr died that I even reblogged much because I literally felt like it would annoy the people who followed me. That’s how bad my anxiety about social media was even years later! Making personal posts at all is still a big challenge for me because I spent so long being afraid that if people noticed me at all I’d be bullied again. I’m scared just writing this on my blog with 300 followers half of whom haven’t touched tumblr in five years. But honestly the “cringe is dead” attitude here since tumblr came back from the dead has done wonders for my mental health. And that’s wild to me! The idea that any social media site could make things better instead of worse seems completely alien but feeling comfortable enough to shitpost about dumb obscure fandom junk and not be constantly afraid of harassment has legitimately made me feel better about myself than I have in more than a decade. Anyway all this is to say I’m grateful for this weird little place and the people who make it tolerable. And I’m especially grateful to all my random mutuals who I barely talk to, maybe it’s a little parasocial but you’ve all made this weird pandemic isolation less lonely.
#the other side of this of course is finally coming out and not feeling like I have to hide fundamental parts of my identity#this post is maybe too honest and personal but I’m trying to let myself be vulnerable again cause holy shit I’m tired of trying to not exist
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wild flower, chapter two (shalaska) 2/10 - freyja
A/N: Thank you all so much for the support chapter one got! Thank you so, so much to frey (aka Thorpe) for betaing!! This wouldn’t be where it is without her. I also thought I would share the playlist I made to listen to for inspiration!
Anyway, chapter two: in which Alaska realizes she is a little more than stuck with Sharon.
🌸
“I have acted fearless and independent and I never will regret my course. I would rather be politically buried than be hypocritically immortalized.”
— Davy Crockett
🌸
They ride for what could be minutes or hours in silence, Alaska never taking her eyes off of the horizon even long after the orange blaze surrounding her uncle’s mansion is gone. She barely registers the blessedly cool wind against her face, or how hard she’s gripping the horse’s saddle, deep in thought and very confused.
She’s not scared.
She knows she will be, once she has the time to really comprehend what happened, but for now all she can feel is guilt. Guilt, because her reaction to her uncle’s house burning, after the initial horror, was relief. How could she? Her uncle’s livelihood is gone, her uncle is gone and likely in danger, she’s been kidnapped - likely in order to be tortured for information - and all she can fucking think about is that she doesn’t have to find a husband anymore.
Sharon flicks the reins, and her horse suddenly jerks into a higher speed, forcing Alaska to grab onto Sharon’s waist in fear of falling off and breaking her neck. Sharon cackles at her, and Alaska flushes, embarrassed and suddenly feeling heated. It makes her angry.
Anger feels a hell of a lot better than guilt, and she gives into it without hesitation.
“Fuck you,” she snarls, right into Sharon’s ear.
“Sorry, what was that?” Sharon shouts, voice nearly whipped away by the wind. “‘Thank you?’”
It is entirely plausible, maybe even likely, that Sharon hadn’t heard her. But the presumption - the fucking nerve–
You can’t hear me? Alaska thinks viciously, glaring at the sharp angles of Sharon’s cheekbones. How about now?
She sucks in a deep breath, and she screams straight into Sharon’s ear.
It’s childish, but Alaska has never been afraid of being childish, especially when it gives her such great results.
Sharon jumps, cringing away violently, jerking the reigns and making her horse jerk along with them. For a second, Alaska allows herself to hope that they would slow enough for her to safely jump off of the horse, but Sharon corrects him too quickly for her to even have a second of the time she’d need.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Sharon snaps, her tone a startling contrast to the gentle way she pats the horse’s neck. “What the fuck?”
“Can you hear me now?” Alaska asks, sneering. She relishes in the anger on Sharon’s face, gratified by her ability to take the other woman down a peg, but it fades away too quickly for her liking. Instead, Sharon’s pressed lips turn into a smirk, and she doesn’t even grant Alaska a glance when she says,
“Surprised you didn’t do that back at the house - the lawmen might have heard you in time to help.”
Alaska looks at Sharon incredulously. “Town is three miles from – oh, fuck you!” she grits out, the realization dawning with Sharon’s laughter.
“Don’t you mean thank you?” Sharon shoots back, and Alaska desperately wants to hit her, rage nearly overwhelming her.
“Why - how would I ever thank you?” she snarls. The apathy in Sharon’s expression only makes her blood boil more. She tears her eyes away from the other woman, instead staring stubbornly out at the Rockies. She can feel tears welling up in her eyes, and she curses them. She needs to be strong for this. “You - you kidnapped me, you burned my home, you killed-”
“Your home?” Sharon says sharply.
“Does it matter?” Alaska spits.
“Yes,” Sharon says bluntly. “That wasn’t your fucking home. Don’t accuse me of that. That was the last place you wanted to be - I could see it in your eyes. You were at the stable for a reason.”
Alaska flushes at the reminder of their first meeting, suddenly aware of the way their bodies are pressed together - the way Sharon’s waist feels firm under her arms. She almost pulls away, but her sense of balance forces her to remain attached.
As if reading her mind, Sharon places a hand on Alaska’s wrist, which rests against her ribcage. “Got a good grip?” she says lowly, and Alaska jerks her wrist away, cheeks burning. Sharon laughs, letting go easily, and Alaska replaces her arm with less reluctance than she should have felt.
“I loved it there,” Alaska says petulantly. Sharon ignores her point, hand returning to the reins.
“I saw something else in your eyes as well,” Sharon continues softly, and her tone sparks an uncomfortable squirming in Alaska’s belly, the places she’s touching Sharon too warm. “You want something more.”
“Don’t presume to know what I want,” Alaska says, voice shakier than she would like it to be. She feels seen - exposed.
“You want more than a man, but a man is all a woman’s good for in society,” Sharon says, and a new bitterness colors her normally gleeful laugh. Alaska frowns at it.
“A man is what I need,” Alaska tells her, trying to work her anger back up and failing. She’s falling into Sharon’s intrigue again, fascinated by the mystery of her.
“Not out here,” Sharon says, and her voice is softer than Alaska’s ever heard it. It startles her; frightens her, even.
“I’m not like you,” she says quickly. She resents how close they are.
“Oh,” Sharon says idly. Alaska can just see the edge of her brow quirked up from the angle she’s at. “You’re wrong. I’d say stop lying to me, but I think you’d have to stop lying to yourself first.”
Alaska lapses into silence, unsure of how to respond. She feels raw and vulnerable in a way she didn’t expect to feel in the presence of a bandit.
Sharon doesn’t scare her the way Alaska thinks she should, and she hates her for it.
They spend the rest of the ride in silence.
🌼
Alaska uses the silence to plan her escape, and by the time they start slowing down, sliding off of Sharon’s horse - “Cerrone”, she’d heard Sharon call him - and running immediately upon arrival is out of the question.
They’re over four hours away from Coady, at least half an hour more from the house, and she has no idea where she is. They hadn’t passed any signs, or at least Alaska hadn’t seen them in the dark, and they’ve been weaving through thick pine trees for longer than Alaska could keep track.
She suspects Sharon had avoided roads, or at least stuck to those less traveled, and the fact that she has no real way of knowing is terrifying.
She’d end up lost in the woods if she took off on foot, and probably dead because of it.
The only other option would be escaping on horseback, and that takes a little more forethought than leaping off of Cerrone and running as fast as she can. She needs the time to figure it out, but she doesn’t know if she’ll get it.
Stories of the tortures people go through when kidnapped by bandits crowd her thoughts, the tales concerning women even worse, and she’s just beginning to work herself up back into a panic when Sharon speaks suddenly, snapping Alaska out of her spiral.
“Welcome,” she says, voice warmer than Alaska expects it to be, “to Silverbar Overlook.”
They round a curve in the dirt path to reveal a small camp of about six tents and wagons, a decent fire lit up in the center of it. Women fill the space with talk and hoots of loud laughter, and Alaska can’t help but stare at them as Sharon pulls Cerrone to a stop by some crooked posts. Where are the men?
Sharon swings down with ease, taking Cerrone’s reins and tying him to one of the posts. She smirks at Alaska as she does so, making no attempt to prevent her from running right then and there. Alaska hates that she doesn’t need to.
“Like it?” Sharon says, dusting off her hands. Alaska sneers at her, fear and fury a fire in her stomach.
“No,” she says shortly.
Sharon seems unaffected. “Time makes the heart grow fonder,” she says, holding out a hand for Alaska to take, “and you’ll certainly be spending a lot of it right here.”
Alaska resists the urge to slap the hand away, remembering just in time that Sharon has a gun and the quickest draw she’s ever seen. Instead, she ignores it in favor of sliding down herself, relieved when she lands solidly on both feet.
Sharon grabs her arm none too gently as soon as she’s on the ground, even her arrogance not so hubristic to leave Alaska with both arms free. Even so, she gives Alaska an appreciative glance.
Alaska flushes under her gaze, keeping her eyes stubbornly ahead.
“Went to the stables often?” Sharon questions, and Alaska presses her lips together at the insinuation.
“Fuck off,” she says sharply, and Sharon laughs.
“Jinkx Monsoon!” she calls, not bothering to respond to Alaska. An old affection colors her tone, and a red-headed woman by the fire stands up, grinning.
“Fresh meat?” she asks, approaching them. She’s pale, with sad eyes and a crooked smile. Her hair is down, tangled like Alaska’s gets if she leaves it down for more than two seconds, and she sports loose pants that bunch up where they meet her boots.
“Not quite,” Sharon says, jerking Alaska a little to emphasize her point. “More of a hostage.”
Jinkx frowns, clearly taken aback. “Hostage?” she asks, examining Alaska closely, squinting in the dim light cast over them from the fire. Alaska glares back, meeting her gaze as defiantly as she can muster. Jinkx raises an eyebrow in response. “She’s in with Solomon? She’s in a brand new dress.”
“I am not with him,” Alaska snaps, disturbed at the very idea. “I hate him.”
“Enough to give us the information you have?” Sharon leads, and Alaska presses her lips together.
As much as she hates Solomon, she hates Sharon that much more.
Both of Jinkx’s eyebrows are up, now. “Want me to tie her to the post?” she asks, and Alaska’s stomach drops somewhere around her ankles. Jinkx jerks her head back to a post at the edge of the clearing, where a pile of ropes and a poker in a bucket of water sit. Alaska freezes up at the sight.
“No,” Sharon says, but her eyes don’t leave the post for another moment longer.
“So she is a new recruit,” Jinkx says, and the suggestion sparks the fear in Alaska’s chest into anger.
“I’d rather be tied to the post than a new recruit,” she spits out, and Sharon’s grip tightens around her bicep. She stills, heart pounding.
“No,” Sharon clarifies, ignoring Alaska. Her silent warning is frightening enough, and Alaska has no desire to see how it might escalate. “I don’t tie civilians to the post.”
“She needs to sleep somewhere,” Jinkx says. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t want her unguarded.”
There’s a brief pause. “She’ll have to sleep in a tent,” Sharon says, and Alaska just barely keeps a protest from escaping her lips. Jinkx voices one, anyway.
“In a tent?” Jinkx asks incredulously. “Where people sleep? Where they’re most vulnerable?”
Sharon snaps her fingers, seemingly ignoring Jinkx. “Detox and Roxxxy,” she says.
Jinkx gives her a skeptical look.
“Alaska isn’t a threat,” Sharon says, and Alaska nearly jumps at the sound of her name. She hates the false intimacy that the use creates, and she never wants to hear it said again. Her skin crawls at the idea of Sharon knowing enough about her to use her Christian name. “Detox could break her in half if she wanted to.”
Alaska very much does not want to sleep in Detox and Roxxxy’s tent.
“Why not the post?” Jinkx asks again. She looks worried, and it’s clearly getting on Sharon’s nerves.
“Because I created this camp, and I said so,” she says, an edge creeping in on her tone.
Jinkx is unmoved.
“Jinkxie,” Sharon says, and Alaska glances at her for an expression, unable to read her tone. She seems urgent, pleading, maybe, but it’s hard to decipher.
No matter the expression, however, a silent exchange clearly occurs between the two, and Jinkx’s expression softens. She looks at Alaska, who sneers.
“I’ll take her to their tent,” Jinkx says after a moment. She looks back at Sharon. “Willam wants to see you. Something about a letter?”
“Shit,” Sharon swears, and she lets go of Alaska’s arm. Alaska nearly takes off immediately, but she stops herself, eyes catching on the gun slung at Jinkx’s hip and thoughts returning to Sharon’s own. She’d have to be patient, even though she’s never been good at it.
“I completely forgot about that,” Sharon continues, although it sounds like it’s more to herself than the other two. She looks somewhere to their right, and Alaska follows her gaze, spotting a young blonde woman in a low cut dress giving Sharon the finger, leaning against the post of one of the tents. Sharon looks back at Alaska, lips pressed together, and Alaska quirks an eyebrow.
“See something you like?” Alaska says, and Sharon’s eyebrows raise. She pointedly glances at Alaska’s arm, where she had been holding her.
“I do,” she says, and Alaska flushes. She grits her teeth, frustrated with the way Sharon can render her speechless. Sharon’s smug smirk isn’t helping matters.
“Alright, take her to Detox and Roxxxy. Make sure they know what’s going on,” a thoughtful look at Alaska, “and make sure they know they need to be on watch.”
Alaska tries and fails not to be flattered that she warrants a watch, even though it makes her plans for escape that much more difficult.
“Got it,” Jinkx says, and with a nod - Sharon leaves, heading towards who must be Willam with a sheepish grin on her face. The expression would be endearing, if she hadn’t just kidnapped Alaska after destroying her uncle’s life.
“So,” Jinkx says, smiling startlingly sweetly at Alaska. Alaska doesn’t quite know what to do with the sudden change of pace. “What do you think of the camp?”
Alaska gives her a deadpan stare. “It’s dirty,” she drawls, feeling more confident with Sharon’s absence. She feels above this woman, with her short stature and sweet smile, and it’s easy to let that leak into her tone. “Small.”
Jinkx’s smile shrinks, fading into something that screams ‘unimpressed’. “You’d think a wealthy woman would have better manners,” she says, and Alaska blushes a little.
“Ladies don’t initiate,” she says, willing the blush to go down. “They reciprocate.”
Jinkx is quiet for a moment, expression sympathetic. “Jesus. I’m glad I’m away from that.”
Alaska falls silent, something like shame turning over in her gut. She’s thought the same thing before, but only in her fantasies, and not for a long time. The reminder of her own lack of freedom, compared to these women’s abundance of it, is startling - it’s something that she hasn’t thought about in years. The disparity is embarrassing, and for a moment, Alaska wonders what right she has to feel superior to these women. What is money when compared to freedom?
She tries to scrape the idea away from her mind, reminding herself that the law is powerful, that it isn’t freedom when you’re being chased, but the thought sticks like glue.
“Come on,” Jinkx says after a few moments, frowning at Alaska. “It’s just over here.”
Alaska follows her quietly, still a little shaken, and Jinkx looks back at her with a strange expression on her face. “Alright,” she says. “Maybe Sharon has a reason for treating you special.”
“You mean she doesn’t do this often?” Alaska asks. Jinkx laughs, a soft sound that fits strangely on someone deemed a criminal. They come to a stop in front of a tent, but Alaska hardly notices, she’s so wrapped up in the conversation.
“Let’s just say, she must like you. Sharon’s had no trouble tying people to that post, even in the middle of winter.”
“No,” Alaska says, rejecting the idea with a vehemence that surprises even her. “She’s trying to entice the information out of me, and it isn’t going to work.”
“The day Sharon Needles chooses enticement over violence is the day pigs fly,” a new voice says, and Alaska immediately tenses up, phantom aches blossoming along her arms where they’d been held back.
Detox emerges from her tent, an amused quirk to her mouth, and the blonde woman who’d slid in through the window during the ambush comes out after her. This must be Roxxxy, but Alaska is far more concerned with Detox.
“Guess you’d better get your binoculars ready,” Jinkx says dryly. “Because they’ll be taking to the skies any second now.”
Detox looks at her, confused. “What?”
Jinkx lets out an exasperated breath, placing a hand on Alaska’s back in a reassuring manner. It doesn’t work, and Alaska shrugs it off as quickly as she can. “She’s sleeping in your tent tonight. Please don’t ask me why.”
Detox looks even more bewildered, but she doesn’t protest, which Alaska supposes is a good thing. Or maybe not - maybe she could have ended up in someone else’s tent if Detox had thrown a fit, someone with warmer eyes. That, or someone much worse.
Most things, Alaska is realizing, are going to be a game of roulette. She’s just going to have to roll with the punches, because gambling has never been her strong suit, and now is certainly not the time to be practicing.
“Alright,” Detox says slowly, and Jinkx relaxes into a smile.
“Thank you,” she says, eyes darting to Roxxxy, “for not being difficult.”
The expression on Roxxxy’s face suggests she spoke too soon.
“Why not the post?” she asks, clearly annoyed.
“I don’t know,” Jinkx says, and Alaska can hear the suppressed frustration and exhaustion in her voice. “Sharon doesn’t like to share, and despite popular belief, I can’t actually read her mind.”
“Try,” Roxxxy shoots back. “You know her better than anyone else here.” She makes no attempt to hide the bitterness underlying the words. Detox shoots her a look, but Roxxxy appears not to notice.
Alaska finds herself wanting Jinkx to come back just as quickly, to put up a fight, but the slump of Jinkx’s shoulders tells her that she’d rather avoid it. “Maybe she wants to try enticement and see if it works better.”
“Sharon’s never needed to cajole anything out of anyone.”
“Jesus,” Alaska blurts out, frustrated and defensive. “Maybe she just isn’t up for beating the shit out of anyone today. It must be exhausting work.”
All three women stare at her, and she shrinks down, suddenly afraid. Years in society have taught her to only speak when spoken to, and while she’s always chafed under that rule, the potential consequence for breaking it has never been quite so high. She shouldn’t be snapping at bandits like this - especially in the company of three, all with loaded pistols.
Detox’s delayed scream of a laugh makes her jump three feet into the air.
“Jesus Christ!” she says, and the other two women crack smiles as well. “She’s got nerve for a hostage!”
“A hostage sleeping like she’s one of us,” Roxxxy corrects, a tinge of the argument still there, despite the smile on her face.
“She’s sleeping here,” Jinkx says. She’s looking at Alaska thoughtfully, something twinkling in her eyes, and Alaska relaxes despite it. She’s still in the clear, somehow. “But just so you know, Ms. Needles usually waits a few days before really going in on ‘em.”
“She’s patient,” Detox agrees. It’s lighthearted, but Alaska still spares a glance at the post, eyes lingering on the poker stick. Clearly, Sharon’s patience runs out. She doesn’t know if the fact that she’s patient at all is really that comforting.
“I’m tired and I’m going to bed,” Jinkx says. “Sharon wants you two to take turns watching her.” Detox nods. Jinkx turns to leave, giving Alaska a reassuring smile. “Have fun,” she says, ominous, and she starts off towards Sharon and Willam, who can be seen just inside of the tent Willam had been waiting in.
Alaska is sorry to watch her leave, not quite understanding the comfort she’d provided until she was gone.
“I think you should lie between us,” Detox says, glancing at Roxxxy, who only looks slightly less sullen from her argument with Jinkx. “Makes watching you easier.”
Alaska nods, heart sinking at the idea. She feels like all of her confidence left with Jinkx, and her plan to escape feels impossible to execute. With each of them taking watch, and having to sneak out from between them, it seems improbable that she can leave the tent without detection. And if she was caught - she knows how strong Detox is, and Roxxxy certainly hasn’t proved herself to be friendly.
“I’ll take the first watch,” Roxxxy says, ducking into the tent. Detox motions for Alaska to follow, and she does, after a moment of hesitation. “I’m not tired yet.”
As Alaska lays down, she steels herself. She has to make an attempt, all of the risks be damned. She owes it to her uncle.
She owes it to herself.
🌸
Roxxxy falls asleep two hours after they all lie down, and it’s like the universe is telling Alaska to get the hell out of there.
It’s been a struggle not to do the same herself - it has to be around three in the morning by now, give or take a few, and she is exhausted.
She takes a moment to just stare at the roof of the tent, feeling all of the aches and pains of the night throb. Her first meeting with Sharon feels like it was weeks ago, not hours, and Cassidy’s visit to her uncle even further away. She almost doesn’t want to get up, heart and head heavy with exhaustion.
But she has to.
She understands fully well that this is, truly, her only shot at getting out of this unscathed. By some miracle, Sharon had been foolish enough to leave her loose, taking her lack of physical strength as a sign of weakness, as a sign that she wouldn’t run. But Alaska has always been wily, and she can snake her way out of most things.
Most things were usually balls and formal dinners with suitors, but she’s pretty sure she can get out of being the hostage of bandits just as easily.
Again: she has to.
Detox is snoring, so Alaska’s watching Roxxxy’s face for any signs of wakefulness as she slowly gets into a crouch, listening for a change in Detox’s breathing. She’s careful not to knock aside Detox’s pistol, which lies in her loosened grip.
She has no doubts that Detox would be glad to shoot her the moment an excuse was given, and the thought only pumps more adrenaline into her veins. She’s shaky with nerves, and she takes a moment to breathe in and out, eyes on the tent flap not three feet away. She can do this.
Alaska steps daintily over Roxxxy, holding her breath. She freezes once she’s over her, cringing at the light sound her boot makes when it lands.
She waits.
She lets out a long breath after ten seconds pass with no movement, and she takes the last step forward, carefully curling her fingers around the canvas of the tent flap. She lifts it painfully slowly, hardly daring to breathe, and the moment there’s enough room, she shoots out of the tent, exhaling harshly as soon as she’s out.
For a moment, she feels a sort of giddy relief. She made it. She snuck past the guards. For a moment, she fancies herself able to escape from federal prison, but one thought of being in a chain gang brings her back down to Earth.
It’s not like she’ll ever be in a position to escape from federal prison, anyway.
She looks around, looking for the horses and at every single tent, watching for activity. The fire is now just a few glowing embers, so she relies on the Moon to tell her. She doesn’t see anyone, and she allows herself a moment to admonish herself for jumping out of the tent without looking, before she starts towards the horses, which are hitched near the mouth of the path into the camp.
Maybe she’ll even ride away on Cerrone, and take something from Sharon in her escape. Convinced of this plan, her heart starts beating with anticipation, and she’s about halfway to the first of the horses when a voice makes her heart stop in her chest, and the rest of her freezes along with it.
“Going somewhere?”
“Yes,” Alaska says, and without thinking, she starts to run towards the horses, all thoughts of Cerrone flying off the table and the first horse she can grab her only destination.
She barely makes it two steps before Sharon jerks her back by the bustle of her dress, and Alaska realizes just how strong the other woman is. It would be frightening, except she’s more used to Sharon than she has any right to be in this amount of time, and she has just heard a ripping sound.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Alaska hisses, jerking away from Sharon and turning to face her. She backs up a few steps, drinking in Sharon’s surprise. “This dress is pink satin. Do you understand what that means?”
There’s a beat of silence, before Sharon lets out a disbelieving laugh. “I had to stop you somehow,” she says. “The information you have is a little more valuable to me than pink satin.”
“Well, now that you’ve ripped it, sure,” Alaska sniffs, fingering the fabric. “It was my favorite, too.”
“It’s a dress,” Sharon says, exasperated, and something in Alaska snaps.
“It’s the only thing I have left!” she cries out, clenching her hands in her skirt, arms stiff at her sides. She feels a strange sense of loss over the dress, even though the skirt is still functional and, in all likelihood - easily mendable. It feels like Sharon’s just ruined the last thing tying her to her home, her life, and it’s maddening.
“Fine,” Sharon says, voice now quiet. “Fine. But the information is still more important.”
“Two more of these dresses and I guarantee they’d be worth more than Solomon’s entire operation,” Alaska shoots back. “You could have had more if you hadn’t burned the rest.”
“It’s more personal than money,” Sharon says, and Alaska frowns.
“What’s the point of ‘personal’ if there’s no money in it?”
Sharon laughs again. “You are so goddamn suited for this!” she says, and Alaska feels her chest warm at the praise before she shuts it down, confused at the feeling.
“I’m not,” she snaps. “I’m meant for a life worth living.”
“What?” Sharon says dryly. “Like marrying a man you feel nothing for and spending the rest of your life kept somewhere you don’t want to be? You want to die having accomplished nothing other than a couple of kids?”
It’s like she’s been stripped naked, all of her thoughts and feelings seen by someone she doesn’t trust, and it makes anger well up inside her like a balloon. “Don’t act like you know what my life is like,” Alaska snarls. “Don’t act like–”
“Alaska,” Sharon says, and Alaska deflates.
“Of course I don’t want that,” she admits, and it’s simultaneously a relief and an effort. Baring herself to a criminal is hard, but letting her feelings out into the open is so incredibly freeing. It’s addictive, and she finds herself sharing more, nearly tripping over her words in her haste to get them out. “I’ve never wanted that. But it’s necessary. My father - he needs me. His newspaper is struggling. We need money.”
“And marriage is the only way to get it,” Sharon finishes, and Alaska stares at her, fighting back the lump of tears that has lodged itself in her throat.
“He needs me to do this,” Alaska says, Sharon’s sympathy giving her hope of release, but Sharon’s expression hardens.
“He can get himself out of his own mess.”
“I’m his daughter.”
“Being a daughter has nothing to do with it,” Sharon sneers, and Alaska stiffens defensively.
“Being a daughter has plenty to do with it,” she snaps. “I have duties I need to uphold. I don’t have a choice.”
“Don’t you see?” Sharon says, eyes earnest. It’s attractive, and despite herself, Alaska finds herself listening rapturously to the passion in her voice. “You don’t need to do anything. This is a choice.” She spreads her arms at the camp, at herself. “Be here, with us. We don’t - society hates us. Society favors white men, and the rest of us are just there to make life better for them. We can be who we want out here. You don’t have to marry a man you don’t want to. You don’t have to be with a man at all.”
Alaska hesitates, allowing herself a second to imagine a world without responsibilities, without rules or eyes that watch her every move. It’s a dream.
It doesn’t exist.
Sharon is lying. To make it seem like an easy option isn’t fair - to be ‘free’ comes with a cost, and Alaska isn’t willing to pay it. Not when it involves taking money, taking lives.
“Fuck you,” Alaska says venomously, and she spits on the ground. “You’re full of shit, and you’ll get what’s coming to you.”
Clearly, this is the wrong thing to say.
“I’m sure I will,” Sharon says coldly, expression suddenly closed off. The reaction knocks Alaska off balance - she had expected another smart comment, somewhere on the edge of playfulness, but Sharon had clearly taken Alaska’s words to heart. Alaska knows she should be glad that her words have finally had an effect, but all she can feel is guilt. It’s not something she wants to be feeling, but her emotions have never bothered to listen to her.
“I’m sure I will,” Sharon says again, drawing herself up to her full height. She’s still shorter than Alaska by a good few inches, but she still manages to look intimidating, with her long black coat and mean expression. “But I think you should take a turn first.”
“What?” Alaska asks, and then suddenly Sharon has both of her arms twisted behind her back in an iron grip, frog marching her clear to the other side of camp. Alaska stumbles with the forcefulness of it, startled into silence up until she catches sight of the post, a coil of rope waiting innocuously beside it.
“Fuck,” she says, trying and failing to struggle out of Sharon’s grip as they reach their destination. Sharon slams her against the pole, pulling her arms to the other side of it, but Alaska can’t help but notice that it’s not nearly as violent as she’s sure Sharon is capable of. “Sharon–”
“You want to be the unwilling hostage?” Sharon asks, tone heated. “Here you go. Now you can tell everyone how evil we were, and you won’t even have to lie about it.” She finishes tying Alaska’s hands with the rope, tightening it aggressively. She rounds the post to look Alaska in the face, lips pressed tightly together. Alaska glares back.
“Thanks,” she drawls, giving her wrists an experimental tug. “I won’t even have to fake the rope burns.”
Sharon’s expression falters, looking vaguely concerned, before the wall goes up again. Alaska wants to poke at it, intrigued, but Sharon suddenly leans forward, resting her hand against the post just above Alaska’s shoulder. It puts their faces far too close together, and Alaska’s heart starts beating a little faster.
Sharon doesn’t hesitate to look Alaska straight in the eyes, and Alaska glares back, refusing to back down.
“Give me the information, and I’ll let you go,” Sharon says, and Alaska keeps her mouth stubbornly shut, staring definitely into Sharon’s eyes. She does not think about how blue they look in the moonlight.
Sharon presses her lips together in annoyance. “Have a nice night,” she says coolly, turning to walk away and disappearing into the tent nearest the post.
Alaska sinks down into a sitting position, all of the tension in her body leaving along with Sharon. She gives the ropes one more tug before sighing, defeated. At least it’s a pleasant night, she thinks, staring up at the stars.
She feels her face crumple, exhaustion and fear catching up to her all at once, and she lets out a sob before stopping herself from crying any more, concerned that Sharon might hear her. She has to toughen up if she wants to get through this. Crying isn’t going to help her.
She needs a plan. She can’t outsmart Sharon, and that means she can’t escape. She’s going to have to give them the information she has at some point, before things escalate more than they have. Sharon has proven herself to be somewhat volatile, and capable of treating Alaska as less than a civilian, despite her previous reluctance. Alaska doesn’t want to push her into treating her as an enemy.
The thing is, if she gives away her information, she gives away her only protection. She doesn’t trust the welcoming hand Sharon had extended her before - she doesn’t even know if it’s still extended. The situation feels hopeless.
She’s going to have to think of something, though.
The thought is an exhausting one, and she decides that she’ll think of it in the morning, after a few hours of rest. She doubts anything she comes up with in this state will be viable, anyway.
She wills herself into an uneasy, much needed sleep, the pole hard against her back, and the mud soaking into her skirts. She tries not to mind - the dress is already ruined. It’s better than sleeping next to Detox and Roxxxy, at any rate.
She never thought she’d long for her uncle’s mansion, but there’s a first time for everything.
#rpdr fanfiction#sharon needles#alaska thunderfuck#jinkx monsoon#detox icunt#roxxxy andrews#shalaska#western au#lesbian au#cowboy au#wild flower#freyja#tw violence#tw kidnapping#tw guns
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Polaroid (How They Met)
Alright everyone!!! So sorry that this took so long to post. It has been done for a couple days now but I never got the chance to edit it with work!
This story is set about 7 months before the events of A Serpent’s Secret Lover! I will be creating more one shots based around this story as I really love the dynamic between Sweet Pea and the reader that I have created so far!
Let me know what you think!
Warnings: Cringe cuteness!!
As the end of day bell rings, you begin packing up your notebook and chemistry textbook and start to make your way towards your locker. Dropping off your books, you grab your photography stuff and head to Mr. Grating’s classroom for Photography Club.
“Ready to take some pics, Princess,” as you turn around and shut your locker you see the one and only Reggie Mantle standing behind you.
“I am, Reggie. I still cannot believe that you decided to join the photography club! Do you even like photography?”
“I mean… I did go out and buy a camera specifically for the purpose of using it, so... yes?”
“You bought a camera because you were hoping Cynthia would let you take nude photos of her!”
“Ya know, I regret telling you that! I said that in confidence,” Reggie pushes open the door and holds it open in front of him for you.
“You told it to me when we were studying Stats! In the school library!!” As you walk into the classroom you greet Mr. Grating and take your seat as Reggie plops down next to Cynthia and turns around to give you a wink.
“Alright everyone! Welcome to club. Let’s go around and do small wins of the week! Reggie, you can start.”
“Um, alright! I guess my win for the week is that I beat my personal deadlift record so I’m feeling pretty pumped about that!” When he finishes his words he glances over at Cynthia who is looking at him, impressed. You roll your eyes at the boy’s attempts and how they seem to be working. The rest of the class goes around and shares their small wins of the week and then it gets to you.
“Y/N? What is your small win?”
“I think it would have to be my new camera! I figured I’d hop on the trend and get one of those updated Polaroid cameras! The InstaMax one!”
“Very nice! You can use that for today’s assignment which is to find something outside of your comfort zone and shoot that. If you normally do landscapes try portraits or something! Something new for you! Next week you can come back and we will share the photos, and learn some new techniques. Best photo gets a meal voucher for Pop’s!”
As students start to get up and chat amongst themselves you take your camera out of its bag and head out the door trying to figure out what you would like to shoot. You typically did shoot things like landscapes so you figured you might try to give people a try. Those were definitely out of your comfort zone. You had always been too scared to take photos of people because they were so different and individual. One person would need different camera adjustments than the other and that wasn’t something you were fully comfortable exploring yet. But that’s what this assignment was for: to branch out and try new things.
Walking the halls for a few minutes you try to find someone who looks friendly enough to photograph. After a little while of doing that you decide to give up and begin to pack your things to go home. Maybe you could take some photos of your mom or your animals or a cool looking car on the street. You place your headphones in your ear before walking outside where Reggie and Cynthia are out at one of the picnic tables taking some photos before letting out a chuckle to yourself and beginning your walk home.
You took one or two test shots with your new camera, printing out photos of the sun shining through the trees and of a person walking their dog. The neon signs of Pop’s lays in front of you in the distance and you debate stopping in for a milkshake but decide against it. When you reach the intersection that stands a couple streets down from your house a wild idea pops into your head. Instead of taking the normal turn towards your house you decide to go in the opposite direction and walk down the street towards the southside of town. You know that you might not want to cross the line into the official southside but you might be able to spot a couple of cool looking motorcycles or cars down that direction.
You’re looking down at your camera when you hear the loud rumble of a motorcycle.Your head snaps up to watch it drive past but before you can snap a picture, it is out of sight.”A parked bike would be much easier to take photos of,” you thought to yourself. The bridge that officially marks the northside from the southside looms closer and with some long, deep breaths you begin to make your way across it. It is still bright daylight which you are incredibly thankful for as it takes a bit of the nerves off.
As you walk, more bikes come and go but you see no stationary ones to photograph. Just as you are about to give up and turn around, you spot a motorcycle parked in a spot not surrounded by others. As you start walking towards a bike you notice that it is parked in the lot in front of Southside High. The other cars that are towards the back of the lot must be teachers who are staying late but the rest of the school has seemed to clear out. Before you allow yourself to question why this one bike would still be here, you ready your camera as you start trying to find the best angle and lighting.
You take one shot of the bike and as you are waiting for it to print you hear the doors of the school open and close. You are silently hoping in your mind that this is a teacher coming out and not the person whose motorcycle this is but, of course, your hopes are in vain.
“What the hell are you doing with my bike?!” you hear a booming voice and as you muster up the courage to turn around you see a very angry looking boy walking towards you. As he gets closer you realize just how tall and intimidating he really is and you swallow hard. “Are you deaf, princess? What are you doing with my bike?” His voice shows no signs in calming and you try to scramble your brain for a sentence.
“I-uhm- I… I was taking a picture of it,” you have never sounded so small and you want to slap yourself for being so afraid but who wouldn’t be?!
“You got a reason?” He’s still mad but now there is a hint of confusion in his voice as he looks at you trying to figure out why this northside girl was all the way on the southside taking Polaroid pictures of his motorcycle.
“Well I… um… I needed to take photos of something for my photography club and it needed to be out of my normal realm of comfort so I picked cars or people and then I thought ‘well motorcycles would be cool’ so I started walking and then I saw your bike and the sun was hitting it so it looked really nice and I thought I could take a few photos of it with my new camera. I’m really sorry! I didn't want to cause any trouble,” the words spill out of you at such a fast speed that you hope he was able to understand and process them.
“So you needed photos and you decided to come to the southside to take pictures of motorcycles? Literally risking your safety for a club?” The confusion is there and evident.
“Yeah, I guess so. I realize how silly it sounds! Sorry! I’ll go now, okay? I don’t want any trouble,” you start to back away but he puts his hand out to stop you.
“I’m not going to hurt you, princess. I’m sorry if I scared you. You can never be sure who’s who, especially when I come out and they’re poking around my bike. Did you want to get a few more shots?” his voice is much softer now than it had been only moments ago. As he looks at you he has a gentle smile on his face and he gestures towards his bike. “You know, before the sun stops shining or whatever.”
“You don’t mind? Because I can leave, it’s really not a problem.”
“You came all this way here. You might as well get what you came here to get.”
“Okay, yeah… thanks!” You give him a small smile as you ready your camera again. He smiles back at you and then steps back as not to get in the way of your shot.
You crouch down and get a shot of the bike from below. It looks beautiful in the viewfinder and when you click the shutter button you are excited to see the print.
“How long does it take to print out?” The tall boy is looking down at you while you are still crouched on the ground. You stand up to meet his face and tell him that it takes about a minute to fully reveal the photo.
“You said you wanted to take photos of people right? Take one of me,” the smirk on his face makes you want to scream but you keep your composure. The fear of the previous situation stopped your brain from processing who this boy was but now that you were fully looking at him you recognized him. You didn't know him but Jughead did. This boy was one of Jughead’s fellow Serpents. The cute one. You try desperately to hold back your blush as you cough out a response.
“Oh! I don’t want to impose,” you’re sure you sound just as embarrassed as you feel but you can’t help it.
“C’mon! It’ll be fun!” His voice is filled with humor and amusement and you keep trying to decide if he’s making fun of you or trying to get you to engage with him. You decide on the latter and have him lean against the bike.
You look through the viewfinder and your breath is swept away by how beautiful this boy truly is. It takes you a few deep breaths to finally take the photo because you are much too blown away to concentrate.
“Think I look good?” Your mouth opens wide as you try to formulate an answer. “I mean the photo. You think the photo looks good?” Something about his smirk tells you that that is not what he meant at all. But he wanted to let you dangle.
“Yeah… um… I think so! I mean you looked good in the viewfinder. I meant the photo did. Not that you didn’t! You know what I mean,” you are back to the stumbling over you words and letting a blush crawl up your neck and cheeks. All he does is smirk at you knowingly.
The print out feels like it takes forever to fully develop but when it does you look down and are just as amazed as before. It is a beautiful photo.
“So, what do you think?” He’s bowing his head to look down at the photo your holding. “Am I a good subject for your assignment?”
“It’s a really great photo! You are very photogenic,” that is the best compliment you can think to give him without embarrassing yourself even further.
“And what about you, princess? Are you photogenic?”
“Oh no no! I take the photos! I am never in them,” you are waving your hands in dismissal but he isn’t planning on letting you off that easy.
“Let me take one of you! I want a picture of you sitting on my bike,” his tone is serious and as his eyes meet yours you are at a loss for words. “Please.”
Before you can say no to him, he takes a gentle hold on your elbow and guides you over to the bike where he gestures for you to sit on it. You do. It feels incredibly strange to be sitting on a motorcycle. He is holding the camera in his hands but watches you as you try to make yourself comfortable on the bike. The way he looks at you makes you feel like there is no one else in the entire world and that terrifies you. How could a person you just met have this much of an effect on you? Before you could think to much into it he was telling you to get ready before holding up the camera and snapping the picture.
“I wasn’t even ready! Not fair!” You weren’t actually mad but you didn’t want to be looking like a fool in front of this boy either. Not after that model-quality photograph of him.
“You looked perfect to me!” Oh my goodness, this boy was going to be the death of you and this interaction could not have been longer than five minutes.
“Oh...um...Thanks!”
He waves the photo around to help it develop, like he saw you do. When it finally finishes, he looks at it with his mouth slightly agape.
“You look amazing,” he wasn’t even saying it in a sarcastic manner. He seems genuinely taken aback and you feel pride swell up inside you. You were able to make this beautiful Southside Serpent lose his words.
Before you can even say thank you he was reaching in his back pocket for something. He pulls out an uncapped pen.
“Sign the back for me. I want to keep it.”
“You want to keep a photo of me? Why?” Now you were the one to be confused as he presents the photo and pen to you.
“Because you look beautiful and that way if I ever see you around again, you can’t say you don’t know who I am.”
“Do you take me as the kind of person who would do something like that?” You take the pen and picture out of his hands and lean down against his bike to sign your name on the back of it.
“It was nice to meet you...Y/N,” he reads your signature on the back of the photo and hearing your name comes out of his mouth makes your heartbeat a little faster and you wouldn’t mind if that was all you heard for the rest of your life. “I’m Sweet Pea, by the way,” he holds out his hand for you to shake and you do.
“It was nice to meet you too, Sweet Pea. What are you going to do with that photo?”
He pulls his hand away from yours and reaches into his back pocket again to pull out his wallet.
“I’m going to keep it right here and hope that I see you again soon!” The smile on his face is genuine and beaming so brightly that it lights up the surrounding area. He doesn’t allow you to say anything else as he walks towards his motorcycle and hops on to it. He reaches around towards the back and holds forward a helmet.
“Want a ride back to your side of town?”
“That would be great, thank you! You can just drop me off on the other side of the bridge,” as much as you wanted to spend more time with him, you didn’t quite know how people would react seeing the Northside Princess being escorted around the northside by a Serpent on a motorcycle.
He gives you a little nod before turning on the bike and beginning to ride away. If you weren’t so caught up in how exciting this entire situation was you would’ve asked where his backpack was, what he was doing at school so late, why he was so nice to you, what his number was, and more. But the feeling of the wind rushing past you and the feel of his denim serpent jacket under your palms was overwhelming.
When you finally reached the edge of the bridge you felt a pang of sadness for your time together was over. He cut the engine of the bike and put the kickstand out to steady you both. He swung his arm around to you so that he could grasp your arm help you get off the bike as gracefully as you could. You tripped slightly when your feet hit the ground and let out a little squeak of fear. A small laugh escaped him as he watches you steady yourself.
“See you around, princess. Just hopefully not when you are wandering around the southside alone again, yeah?”
“Yeah, sounds good,” you hand the helmet back to him and watch as he puts it back in its spot behind the seat.
With that he put the kickstand back up, turned the bike on and made a 180 degree turn back towards the southside. You watched him drive away until he was out of sight and when you finally turned around to start walking back home you couldn’t help but think of all the possible ways you might run into him again. Excitement filled your whole body for the day when it would finally come.
Next week, at photography club you would turn in three pictures that you took. One of Sweet Pea leaning against his bike and two of just the bike. The entire club thought they were incredible and you ended up winning that meal voucher to Pop’s. If only you could take your new friend for a meal. Instead, you would probably have to settle for going with your favorite foursome.
#Sweetpea#sweet pea#sweet pea x reader#sweet pea imagine#sweet pea smut#riverdale#riverdale imagines#riverdale imagine#riverdale smut
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OTP ASK GAME - farah & juliette
tagged by @havennly thank u!! i’m gonna tag @agentnatesewell @bryceslahela @agentfreckles @serafinedupont @agentnats if youve done it already i apologize ksks
(long post warning)
DISAGREEMENTS.
Who is more likely to raise their voice?
juliette, but it’s honestly never anything serious. more often than not its just bc she gets very competitive during game nights
Who threatens to leave but never actually does?
neither, even kidding about it kinda hurts each others souls
Who actually keeps their word and leaves?
neither
Who trashes the house?
i cant see either of them doing it
Do either of them get physical?
never in a million years
How often do they argue/disagree?
not often, and when they do its mostly about petty things like leaving empty containers in the fridge
Who is the first to apologize?
both are good about it
SEX.
who is on top? Who is on bottom?
hmmm they switch
any kinks?
welllll jules put on her old cheerleading uniform from college as a joke once and farah was into it. theyre both into roleplay
who has the strangest desires?
jules
who’s dominant in bed?
it’s a pretty even split
is head ever in the equation?
yes
if so, who is better at performing it?
probably farah
ever had sex in public?
once. under the bleachers at the football field. pretty cliché
who moans the most?
uhh both
who leaves the most marks?
farah
who is the more experienced of the two?
definitely jules. she had a LOT of fun in college
do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?
make love. it’s very special for both of them bc they know they’re gonna last
how long do they usually last?
it depends but both of them can usually go pretty long
rough or soft?
typically soft, but rough if theyre in the mood
is protection used?
no
does it ever get boring?
no
where is the strangest place they’d have sex?
dont know? maybe in an empty room in the agency? idk lol
FAMILY.
do they plan on having children/or have children?
oh yeah definitely
if so, how many children do they want/have?
juliette loved the look on farahs face the first time they talked about it and she said she wanted ten kids. it was a joke obv but they probably end up having three or four. jules always wanted siblings growing up and she was sad she never got that wish so she doesnt want her own kids to be lonely like she was
AFFECTION.
who likes to cuddle?
both of them are huge cuddle bugs and they get cozy almost everywhere
who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?
juliette
who struggles to keep their hands to themselves?
both
how long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?
their cuddles can last a while but farah probably wiggles away first
what is their favourite non-sexual activity?
they love girls night out and its even more fun when tina joins them. put the three of them together and its basically nonstop chaos, but so fun
where is their favourite place to cuddle?
predictable, but the bed. jules is one of those extravagant mattress people so her bed is basically a giant pillow and its very comfortable
SLEEPING.
who snores?
both
if both do, who snores the loudest?
jules, and you better believe farah teases her relentlessly
do they share a bed or sleep separately?
jules WAS a very picky sleeper until she got together with farah, now she gets pouty if they dont share a bed
if they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?
they cozy up, but juliette is a blanket hog so she usually ends up with most of the covers
what do they wear to bed?
jules usually just wears a top, farah wears pajama sets
are either of them insomniacs?
no
can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?
not before everything that went down in book one, but since murphy, yeah. jules has a hard time falling asleep now
do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?
definitely cuddly sleepers
who wakes up with bed hair?
both
who wakes up first?
farah. she’s usually the one to rouse juliette when she’s about to be late
who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?
neither of them can cook so... neither lol
what is their favourite sleeping position?
farah loves being the little spoon and jules loves making her feel safe so
do they set an alarm each night?
jules does but she hits snooze at least six times a morning
who has nightmares?
juliette, and farah has no problem soothing her back to sleep when she wakes up
can a television be found in their bedroom?
yes. they’re both obsessed with trashy shows
who has ridiculous dreams?
farah!
who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed?
again, juliette is an unfortunate bed hog
who makes the bed?
farah. juliette is cute but she’s not always that tidy
what time is bed time?
whenever jules feels like it, and farah will follow her lead
any routines/rituals before bed?
other than the typical going to bed things, no
who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?
farah probably
WORK.
who is the busiest?
both are pretty busy but since juliette has two jobs i guess she is a little bit more
who rakes in the highest income?
juliette probably?
are any of them unemployed?
UB gets paid right? so neither then? lol
who takes the most sick days?
juliette. her “bend the rules” stat is at 88%
what are their jobs?
detective and agent
who sucks up to their boss?
definitely not jules. farah might a LITTLE bit since rebecca is juliette’s mom but i think we know how that turns out lmao
who is more likely to turn up late to work?
despite juliette’s aversion for rule following she’s usually pretty puntcual at least, so im gonna say farah
who stresses the most?
im gonna say neither
do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?
farah loves hers for the most part, jules feels like hers is more of a chore but she does love interacting with people.
are they financially stable?
yes
HOME.
who does the washing?
farah. once again juliette isnt super messy per se, but she is a bit cluttered
who takes out the trash?
both
who does the ironing?
jules is pretty good about that
who does the cooking?
neither. they both try but they’re both disasters so they order out mostly (more than they should)
who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?
it’s about equal because again, they’re disasters
who is messier?
juliette
who leaves the toilet roll empty?
farah
who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?
neither
[redacted] you are not going to miss this question.
who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?
both
who answers the telephone?
juliette
who mows the lawn?
they dont have a lawn
who does the vacuuming?
probably jules
who does the groceries?
when they remember to do it, they like to go together
who takes the longest to shower?
jules
[redacted] you are not going to miss this question.
MISCELLANEOUS.
is money a problem?
no but farah does love buying stuff
how many cars do they own?
just one
what’s their song?
it changes but rn lucky by jason mraz fits them so well
do they live in the city or in the country?
juliette LOVES city life and farah thinks it would be fun too so they plan to move to the city one day
do they own their home or do they rent?
rented for now, for juliette anyway
do they enjoy their surroundings?
jules has a nostalgic fondness for wayhaven but again, really she’s itching to live in the city. farah likes it too but it’s a little too mellow for her liking sometimes
what do they do when they’re away from each other?
oh my god, theyre both clingy babies so they’ll be pouty and sad and constantly just text each other
where did they first meet?
juliette’s office
who spends the most money when out shopping?
probably farah
who’s more likely to flash their assets?
jules, but farah will too
any mental issues?
juliette definitely has ptsd after book one, and then its worsened after the trappers (she saved farah so she had to see sanja die)
who finds it amusing when the other trips over?
they both do lol
who’s terrified of bugs?
im thinking farah
who kills the spiders around the house?
juliette
do they have any fears for their future?
they’re both afraid of losing each other, mostly. juliette also worries a bit that maybe farah will get sick of her because she’s a “lot,” she was always told by past bfs/gfs that she was a handful or too wild or whatever so she worries she might scare farah off but when she voices that thought farah is very quick to very seriously assure her thats not going to happen
their favourite place?
the bar, also the forest to stargaze or picnic
who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?
jules, but it’s definitely at a restaurant lol
who pays the bills?
definitely juliette
who’s the tallest?
jules is 5’9, farah is 5′4
who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?
farah
who wanders around in their underwear?
jules
who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?
both!! theyre both so goofy about it
what do they tease each other about?
pretty much everything, they’re bantering almost constantly
who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?
neither of them are exactly fashion experts, so
who crushed first?
juliette
any alcohol or substance related problems?
no, jules enjoys drinking but she knows her limits
who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am?
jules
who swears the most?
both
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What’s a Name?
A Throwback Thursday since I didn’t actually post this week. Now tweaked so I added a little bit in the middle of the story ;)
~ AO3 ~ Fanfiction ~ Support me on Ko-Fi ~
“Please, Ladybug,” Chat begged. “I know you want your identity to stay secret. I just don’t know why.”
“For our safety,” Ladybug fired back, leaning on her practiced answer.
“And you don’t think we would be safer and stronger as a team to know who we are in real life?”
Ladybug cringed. She hated when Chat made hard points like that.
“How about just a name?”
Turning to face him, Ladybug quirked a questioning brow at him. “A name? Because that isn’t telling.”
“Not really?” Chat offered, shrugging hopefully.
Rolling her eyes, Ladybug turned around again and started marching onwards.
“Think about it,” he said, coming up to her side. “Think of all the people in Paris. We cannot be the only people with those names.”
“Except you would probably search up every girl with my name and try to figure out which one I am.”
Considering the way Chat frowned, that was exactly what he was going to do.
Ladybug shook her head. “Dork.”
For the rest of patrol, Chat was quiet. In all reality, Ladybug hated shutting him down like that. He was her best friend, her partner. She didn’t want to keep him at a distance. She just… didn’t want things to change. They were already best friends who had a special kind of trust between them. One that didn’t depend on names or faces or identities. One that was strong despite the masks they wore.
Still… she really didn’t like hurting her partner…
“All right, Chat,” she said once patrol had ended and they were resting up in the bars of the Eiffel Tower. “I’ll play along. But with a slight change of rules.”
Chat perked up at this, his ears rising and eyes widening in a way that made him seem so innocently curious. “Name them.”
“I’ll tell you the first letter of my name, then you pick a name for me. And vice versa.”
She watched Chat’s expression shift from confused to intrigued to amused. “All right. My initials are AA.”
Ladybug frowned. “I said the letter of your first name, Chat.”
“Now you know a little more about me,” he smugly retorted.
She rolled her eyes, but then thought about it. “An ‘A’, hmm?” She bit her lip. “Anton.”
Chat quirked a brow. “Anton?”
Ladybug nodded. “Anton.”
His lips quirked up in amusement while his green eyes shined with mirth. “All right. Your turn.”
“M.”
“No last name, bugaboo?” he prodded, playfully pouting.
“Hyphenated names are too telling, so no.”
His eyes widened in shock, but then he grinned. Shyly, she smiled back at him, wondering if she should have given him that little tidbit at all. “So M hyphenated,” he said, letting the words roll of his tongue as if testing them. “Marie.”
“Marie?”
“Marie.”
She sighed. “Of course, you would name me after one of the Aristocats. It’s right up your alley.”
“But it’s a…” He paused, then let loose a wicked grin. “Did you just pun?”
Ladybug’s expression crumpled.
“You did!” Chat cackled. “And you didn’t even notice. Oh, I’m so proud of you, bugaboo.”
“Oh, stop it!” She kicked him. Not hard, just playfully.
This got him to calm but not by much. “But really,” he argued, “Marie is a classy name for a classy girl. It’s elegant, so it suits you. Besides…” His smile grew cheeky. “You never start fights, My Lady, but you do finish them.”
As stupid as it was, she grinned. “Stop it, you horrible cat.”
“Whatever you say, Marie.”
It was really odd, to hear yet another name that was now her own. She might live to regret it yet.
…
“Lovely night, Marie,” Chat said, using her name for the first time that night.
“Yes it is, Anton.”
It was strange, using those names. A week in, and they had already started using their names as a signal for the end of patrol. When it was just two friends hanging out and chatting the night away.
At two weeks, though, trouble began. Because names give the impression of a person. A person with a life beyond their masks. And as close as they were, tidbits began to slip.
“I love fashion.”
“I’m sick of it.”
The next night would be—
“I have the coolest scarf in my favorite color, blue.”
“I’m much more of a pink person.”
And the next—
“My family loves Saturday dinners. They’re extra special.”
“I wish I knew what that was like.”
And on and on they would go. Back and forth, dropping hint after hint about who they were. Because they weren’t superheroes in that moment; they were Anton and Marie: the best of friends. And best friends knew about each other.
It never once occurred to Ladybug that this was exactly what she was afraid of.
…
At seventeen, Ladybug was not as stupid or naïve as she was when she first got her miraculous. Nor was she the scatter-brained klutz that she was when she was in collegé. Becoming Ladybug had shaped that girl into someone level-headed and rational, focused and graceful. It had forced her to open her eyes, to see things in a different lighting, to tackle things she never thought she could.
It was by this growth that she was able to take Adrien off the perfect pedestal that she had put him on and see him as a friend that she wanted to be in a relationship with. The same growth had also allowed her to see her partner as an incredible person who was spectacular in his own right, yet one she knew she couldn’t have a relationship with. Because he was Chat Noir: her partner.
But Anton: her friend…
Ladybug stole a glance at the man sitting next to her, and she let her mind wander. Honestly, it was hard to miss how roguishly handsome he was with his wild blonde tresses and vivid green eyes and signature cattish grin. Furthermore, it was impossible to ignore how underneath all that skin-tight, black leather was a soft, squishy heart of gold.
“Do you have a girlfriend, Anton?”
The bewildering glance he gave her was enough to answer that question.
“I’ll take that as a no, as I should have guessed,” she smirked. “So, hypothetically, if we didn’t know each other, would there be another girl who you had your eye on?”
His mouth contorted into a crumpled line as he thought about it. “Maybe, there might be one girl.”
The tone of his voice conveyed to Ladybug just how small of a possibility that was.
“What about you?” he asked. “Is there a guy you have your eye on?”
She bit her lip. “Yeah, there is.”
She just didn’t know which one.
…
“You stupid cat!”
“Marie—”
“No!” she shouted. “Don’t you dare use my name.”
“Will you calm down?”
“I will not, you stupid…”
She regretted ever giving him a name. She regretted ever calling him Anton. This was her lesson, she supposed.
“Marie.”
“Quit calling me that.” She turned from him in order to hide the tears that were forming. Out of all the ways to regret, she would have thought that she would have been sick of him overusing her name…
“Why did I ever agree to that?” she snapped aloud, her anger pouring off her in waves. She never thought it would be an akuma that would have changed her mind. “Do you know how many times I nearly shouted your name in battle?”
Chat stayed silent.
“And then you leapt in front and took the hit for me. You were dying!”
Again, she was met with no response.
“And then you have the gall to call me Marie when I’m still trying to deal with the fact I nearly lost you because you knowingly take the hits for me, and I can’t stand that!”
Before her knees gave out, before she could collapse into a crying mess, Chat wrapped his arms around her from behind. She sank into him, letting him hold her up while tears began slipping from her eyes.
“Marie,” he said, calmly and quietly. “You are my partner, and that alone obligates me to protect you.”
“I never—”
“On my own accord,” he interrupted. “We are partners, equals, and determined to have each other’s back. And that means I’m going to take a hit for you every once in a while. Because you are my partner, and I am more than willing and to do so for you.” Then, his hold on her tightened and he lowered his head, his lips very near her ear. “But you are also my Marie, my closest friend. And it is because of that that I am driven to protect you. Because I care for you. A lot.”
“And you don’t think I care for you?” Ladybug choked out.
“I know you do,” Chat replied calmly. “And that’s why I swear to protect you whenever possible. Because not many people care for me the way you do, so why would I give anything other than my best for you?”
Ladybug screwed her eyes shut against the tears and turned away from his face. But her body betray her and sank further into his arms. “I hate you, Anton.”
She could almost hear his smile. “I love you, too, Marie.”
…
They say hindsight is twenty-twenty. And Ladybug believed it. Looking back, there were two mistakes she made. The first one was allowing names between them. Because names took away the superhero mask. It made Chat human. It made him Anton. Someone Ladybug was allowed to have a crush on.
Her second mistake was simply another poor decision on top of the first one: she let that crush grow.
Yes, she still had a crush on Adrien. He was still an amazing young man, but it wasn’t him who she was meeting every night.
She felt his presence behind her, his head hover right above her shoulder. “Marie,” he purred out.
Her body betray her, shivering at his voice. Not that she was of the mind to resist, anyway. “Anton.”
He turned his face into the side of her head. “May I ask a question?” he whispered, his lips close to her ear.
Ladybug closed her eyes as she turned her head towards his. “And that is?”
“Would you ever consider me more than just a partner? More than just a friend?”
Her entire body froze while her heartrate sped up. “Why?” she asked breathlessly.
“Because I’m curious.”
“Lair.”
“Please, just humor me,” he begged.
Her breath caught in her lungs before she released a relenting sigh, turning away from him. “I don’t want to think about that.”
“Why not?”
“Because the answer scares me.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she far too easily surrendered against him. “How is it scary?”
“Do I have to bring up last month?” she asked, her hands crossing her waist to grab his hands. She turned her head fully into his so they were nearly nose to nose. “What if I lose you in battle?”
Anton squeezed her reassuringly. “Then we just have to make sure that we have each other’s back.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “I just can’t lose you,” she whispered.
“You won’t.”
“But I’m not ready to take that chance.”
She felt him slump in defeat. Slowly, he unfurled his arms from her, and she immediately felt the chill of his absence. “I won’t give up, Marie.”
She desperately hoped he didn’t see her cringe because she knew far too well how much he meant those words.
…
It took two months, three weeks, and four days for him to wear her down. Her heart just couldn’t take it anymore. She was done. Fried. Over. And the fact that the name she dopily scribbled in her sketchbook—the one she wrote in loopy cursive surrounded by hearts when she was bored or blocked—had turned from “Adrien” to “Anton” proved it.
But saying that Ladybug had fallen for Chat Noir was too daunting for her to absorb. It was much more manageable on her poor heart to say that Marie had fallen for Anton. Because that’s truly what had happened.
A thump came from behind her, but she didn’t jump. She’d been expecting it. “Anton.”
“Marie.”
Heart pounding in nervousness, she turned to face him. At eighteen years old, he was every bit the handsome man she perpetually denied he ever was. She thought it strange and ironic how she, at fourteen years of age, had been ready to give her heart to Adrien without second thought. To marry him and have a family. Now, here she stood, a young woman nearly eighteen herself and scared to give her heart up at all. Reality, she belatedly realized, was much scarier than fantasy.
“You promised you would never give me up,” she started.
Slowly, he approached her. Taking her cheeks in his hands, he carefully raised her chin so they could stand toe-to-toe yet eye-to-eye. “A promise is meant to be kept.”
“But is this one you truly want to keep?”
His gaze flickered down to her lips, turning her mouth dry. Her heartbeat decided to pick up its pace as his green eyes stared intensely back into hers. “Yes.”
With that, he lowered his lips to hers. Her eyes fluttered shut before they landed, and when they did, her heart was stolen. Gone, permanently. And she couldn’t even bring herself to care.
Her hands wrapped gently up over his neck while his hands moved to cradle her head. His touch was so gentle, so tender, she melted. Two, three, four times, his lips landed upon hers at different angles. A different kiss every time, but no one in particular thrilled her any more than any other. And when they pulled apart, their half-lidded gazes colliding, she realized that it was over. He was hers. And she was his.
“Please tell me you feel it, too.” Chat begged on a whisper.
Words lodged in her throat, the only thing she could do was nod.
“So if I asked you,” he continued, “to go steady with me, what would you say?”
“I can’t fathom anything else.”
It earned her another kiss.
…
It was exactly six weeks later that Ladybug knew she couldn’t deny it any more: she wanted to marry this man. She had spent the better part of their partnership pushing him away, only to fall hard and fast for him once she had a name that could roll easily off her lips in public. During their last sleepover, Alya had asked who the ‘Anton’ Marinette mumbled about in her sleep was. It was everything for Marinette to hold her tongue though she wanted to say “my future husband.”
Now, she anxiously looked forward to nightly patrols for the sole reason of the after. Once duty was over. Once Ladybug and Chat Noir were put away and Marie and Anton were free to make an appearance.
They were curled up in the bars of the Eiffel Tower. Oh, it was so impossibly tempting to drag Anton back home so they could snuggle on her bed under the warmth of her blankets. She didn’t even know why she didn’t, but even now, she didn’t want to move from her very comfortable spot wrapped in his arms.
She felt his hold tighten on her and his chin rest on her shoulder. She hummed happily.
“Can I ask a serious question, Marie?”
“You’ve never been afraid to ask them before.”
“This one is different,” he argued.
Curious, she turned her head slightly into his. “What is it?”
“You’re eighteen,” he said, “nearly out of school, correct?”
“That’s right,” she said.
“And you have plans laid out for the future?”
“Yes,” she said, suddenly growing nervous. “What’s this about?”
His hand then found hers, wrapping it up in a protective hold. “My question is if…” he started hesitantly, “if you would be ready… to become my wife on top of all that.”
Her lungs ceased to function as her brain slowly took in his words.
“I understand if the answer is no,” he quickly assured. “We can wait.”
She took her time to collect herself. It must have been too long because Anton tried to pull his hand away, not that she let him. “It’s not a no, Anton,” she answered.
“But it’s not a yes, either. And I understand that—”
“Just,” she interrupted. “Just give me some time, okay?” She tightened her hold on his hand. “Because I really want to say yes. To say that I’m ready. I can’t imagine life with anyone else. But… I just need time to process that fully. Okay?”
He relaxed, and only then did she realize how tense he had gotten. He then took her hand, raising it up to his lips to press a lingering kiss upon her knuckles. “Take all the time you need, Marie. We’re still young, but I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else.”
“I feel the same.” She pulled her hand from his only to tenderly cup his jaw. “I’ll try not to keep you waiting too long, Anton.”
He leaned into his touch. “I’ll be waiting patiently, sweetheart.”
She smiled, turning fully to press a kiss onto his cheek. He turned his head towards her, brushing noses together in the process. He stole a quick kiss from her before she could turn away, giggling in the process.
“There is one thing I am impatient to know, however.”
“And that is?”
He paused, taking a breath in preparation. “What sort of family do you want to have?”
It was a straight-forward question, one that was very reasonable. But in that moment, it truly solidified where everything was going. He was going to be her husband. She was going to start a family with him. He would be the father of her children. It may have shocked her at first, but the anxiety causing her heart to race slowly shifted from fearful to anticipative. She was ready to start the life with him.
“Three kids,” she told him.
“Three?” he asked, surprised.
Suddenly, she grew worried. “Is that bad?”
“NO!” he quickly amended. “No no no. Not at all. That… that sounds wonderful. To be part of a family like that…”
Her heart hurt at his tone. She wasn’t unaware of what Anton’s home life was like. She’d heard enough quips and tales to know he was an only child, left with a distant father. Home was cold, and family was non-existent. It had never crossed her mind that having such a family would mean so much to him. “I get to name them, though,” she said, partly teasing.
It snapped him out of his stupor. “What?” he breathed out, still dazed and overwhelmed.
“Emma, Hugo, and Louis.”
His breathing picked up. “Emma, Hugo, and Lo…” His voice trailed off, weak and full of wonder. He swallowed hard before he finished, “And Louis.”
“How does that sound, Anton?”
His gaze softened to the greatest degree. When he spoke, his voice was whispery, hinting at tears. “Could…” he began, struggling to get his words out. “Could we name our girl Emilie?”
Their girl. Her heart did flips. Their girl. Their baby. Together. She had to swallow hard. “Emilie?”
He nodded. “It was mother’s name.”
Her heart broke. “Yes,” she assured, cradling his cheeks. “Yes, of course. It’s a beautiful name. I love it.”
Lovesick was the only way to describe his expression as he melted into her touch. “I love you,” he said.
Her heart stopped for a beat before pounding so hard that it hurt. “I love you, too.”
Far from their first kiss, he’d never given her one that made her as happy and hopeful as he did right then.
…
It was an epiphany, a rather shallow one at that, to wake up one morning and realize that her name was not Marie. And his name wasn’t Anton. It nearly sent her crying. She held it together, however, because she needed to get to school lest she be late.
Surprisingly, she made it to class on time, plopping herself down in her seat just as the last bell rang. She pulled out her notes, ready to listen to her teacher’s lecture. Only to not hear a word. There were too many other things on her mind for her to even pretend to pay attention.
Her eyes settled in an absent daze downwards as she thought of Anton’s proposal. She had to force herself to stop when she felt tears forming because she had wanted to say yes to a man she only knew by a fake name.
When she snapped herself out of her trance, her eyes came to settle on Adrien’s notebook. One that was surprisingly empty for him. He was the kind that took a plethora of notes and kindly dished them out to his friends when they asked. Instead, there were a couple lines of notes, and far more little hearts.
Marinette watched him as a ladybug made its way into the doodles. Then the next line down, he wrote a name, one perfectly legible. Emilie.
It was both disappointing yet not to see the name. Adrien was taken, obviously. Completely smitten by some woman named Emilie. Last year, she would have cried. Now, she was happy for him to find someone who obviously made him so happy. It was almost comforting because she knew Adrien deserved it.
But then came another name under that. Hugo. Then a third appeared. Louis.
Marinette’s eyes widened. Why would those names…?
Marie. That was the name that appeared last. And as if that wasn’t enough, he added a Mrs. to the front and Agreste afterwards.
Marinette’s heart skipped a beat. Mrs. Marie Agreste. Mrs. Marie Agreste…
Her heart skipped another.
Suddenly, every talk she had ever had with Chat came flooding back to her. Initials AA. Sick of the fashion industry. Lonely home life.
How had she been so blind?
She watched as Adrien then circled her name, hard, several times, then run a heavy, black line through it. He set his pencil down, hanging his head.
It seemed he had come to the same conclusion she had.
Well, it was time to make things right.
…
It took her all day to work up the courage and plan her attack of how she was going to spring this on him. After all, she was basically going to announce that she, his friend he’d known throughout school, was the love of his life and the woman he’d proposed to. She was almost tempted to postpone it, to wait until patrol tomorrow, but when he mentioned he would be gone over the weekend, she knew she had to do it today.
She never really had a moment to pull him aside, though, because the second Nino and Alya left, Adrien’s car showed to pick him up.
“I’ll see you after the weekend, Marinette,” he said, waving his good-bye.
“Yeah,” she said, mentally panicking as she waved back. She was out of time. When he turned, it was a sudden, shocking moment of impulse that forced her to say the next words. “I’ll be waiting… Anton.”
She watched him freeze, and all the bravery Marinette had at that moment vanished. She turned on her heel and tried to resist the urge to run all the way home. She made her way towards the bakery at a steady clip, turning to look over her shoulder even though her cheeks were burning. Their eyes locked for only a second before Marinette faced forward again and begged her heart not to give out on her until she made it home.
…
After her after-school panic attack, she finally calmed down when she stuck her nose in her sketchbook and burned through pages.
It was what made the sudden thump on her roof so shocking. She had been so in the zone that the sound had caused her to nearly fly from her chair. Then came an incessant tapping from her balcony door. Her heart raced, knowing there was only one person who could possibly be there.
She tossed the door open, coming eye to eye with her Anton.
“Marie,” he said, his eyes full of hope and wonder.
Her grin grew so wide, it was an answer itself. Still, she gave him undeniably clear answer. “Are you coming in, Anton?”
Her invitation was quickly accepted as he practically launched himself in, dropping his transformation in the process. When he stood back up, he was fully Adrien.
“I can’t believe I was so blind,” he said, rubbing his hands down his face. “M hyphenated. MD-C. Everything you told me. Every similarity, and I missed it.”
She gave him a pitiful look. “I know. You’re not the only one who was kicking themselves.”
“Yes, but… I always claimed to be in love with you. To be able to pick you out in a crowd. But I saw you every day and…” He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck.
Marinette approached him. “So did I.”
The stress on his features faded. He reached out, cradling her cheeks gently in his hands and pulling her close. She leaned in to his touch, reaching up to press foreheads together. “Marinette,” he said, his voice but a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m the one that should be sorry,” she responded. “For being so adamant on keeping our identities secret.”
“No, I knew why you did that. There’s no need to apologize.”
“And know that I didn’t spot you either, despite the fact you sat in front of me every day, despite the fact I claimed you were my best friend. So we can just say we’re even and that there’s nothing to apologize for.”
The way his grip tightened on her cheeks told her just how much that meant to him.
“What matters is that we found each other in the end, right?” she said.
He shook his head. “What matters is if we get to keep each other in the end.”
Marinette’s heart pounded in her chest. “I very much hope that we do, Adrien.”
He shifted away from her, only so he could come back and capture her lips. She responded to every touch with a racing, anxious heart.
“I hope you know,” he said between kisses, “that while I will happily wait until you’re ready to marry, I’ve just become less patient.”
She giggled, unsure if it was because of his words or the kisses he peppered on her cheeks. “We can’t just jump in, or everyone will grow suspicious. I’m just glad we know each other, or it would have made this exceptionally harder.”
He cut her off with another kiss. “Then when I get back, I’m taking you out on an official date. We start making the truth obvious.”
“Truth?”
“That we’re inseparable and that I am going to marry you.”
She giggled again. “Then hurry back, okay? Because I’ve already determined I’m going to accept your proposal.”
The kiss he gave her after that left her weak in the knees like never before.
…
It was because of Alya that they were able to race their “public show of dating” as fast as they did. It started as an accident, with a very groggy Marinette letting out a few too many details on Saturday. By Sunday, Alya had told the world that Adrien Agreste, famous model, was in a secret relationship with aspiring fashion designer Marinette Dupain-Cheng.
And then proceeded to chew Marinette out for keeping it a secret for so long.
Monday rolled around, and the moment Adrien stepped out of his car, he raced to Marinette, engulfing her in a hug and stealing a kiss.
That was the first time Marinette appeared in the tabloids.
But that wasn’t the best part.
The day after, Adrien brought over a gossip rag. With a grin he opened it to the offending article. “Listen to this. ‘Is Adrien Agreste off the market? Sources have caught the model fervently kissing a mystery woman on Monday. The woman, identified as Marie Dupain-Cheng—‘”
“You’re making that up!” Marinette amusedly shouted.
“I’m not!” he said, passing over the open magazine.
Marinette snatched the magazine from him, bursting into laughter the second she caught her misspelled name.
“They got your name wrong, Anton,” Marinette teased once her laughter calmed. “Who is this ‘Adrien’.”
“I don’t know,” he retorted, “but I bet I could beat him in a duel.”
That sent them into peals of laughter yet again, the duo collapsing on the couch in near tears. It took them a while to calm down again.
“You know, Anton,” Marinette eventually said, her voice airy with the remains of laughter. “I bet you could.”
He grinned. “Would the winner get your heart? Because I’m pretty sure I’ve already won that.”
“Well,” Marinette said, heat warming her cheeks. “You never were a loser, Adrien. You just stole my heart from yourself.”
His eyes widened as he processed what she said. He blinked a couple times before breaking into a new round of chuckles. “Then I must be really charming to have stolen your heart twice.”
Despite her face heating up like an oven, she chuckled. “I have no comment.”
“Then you have no comment about me kissing you?” he playfully ventured, leaning forward to wrap an arm around her waist.
Marinette bit her lip shyly. “No,” she answered, her eyelids already lowering in anticipation. “Not at all.”
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Hi, can I get a male Haikyuu matchup?
Personality: cold to new people but wild and weird around close friends, stubborn, determined in the things I set my mind to, independent hence I'm too afraid to ask for help, always act tough and idgaf on the outside and bottle up my feelings but actually very sensitive and cry baby and very insecure, short-tempered/hot-headed, quite tsundere but can get very very clingy, sometimes shy and awkward most of the time and cringe at myself easily even if it's just me having a music jamming session all by myself, straightforward
Mbti: ISFP-T
Good qualities: independent, enthusiastic and passionate about the things I like
Bad qualities: constantly overthinking and worrying aka my anxiety, short-tempered and get annoyed easily
Music taste: mostly rock songs like math rock, post rock and other subgenre, but still like some of the songs from other genre tho
What I look for in a partner: loyal, sweet and caring, protective/dominance (in a good way), able to accpet every part of me because I tend to change myself in a relationship if that means they will like me more
Appearance: 160cm, have a short black bob cut hair and I wear a black glasses, love wearing skirts and dresses
Things I like/hobbies: travel, play games and watch streams on twitch, vtuber, taiwan novels, clothes, overanalyse every movie I watch, listening to songs on spotify and have a jamming session but I'm shy to letting people hear me sing lmaoo
Thank you!!
I match you with Kuroo Tetsuro. 100%
We all know Kuroo is a little cocky bastard, but it goes without saying that he has had years of training with short tempered tsunderes.
He wouldn’t mind your temper at all. In fact, he would find it so amusing every time you go off at him, a laugh emerging from the very depths of his body, rocking his head back and staring you down with a grin. “Again??” He asks rhetorically, “you sure cant stay calm for a long time can you?” What a cocky bastard. Needless to say, you instantly forget what you were angry about and begin preoccupying yourself with wiping that fat smirk off of his face.
The first time you met, your cold exterior definitely didn’t put him off either. I mean, he’s been friends with Kenma for years now, and he can still barely get a proper conversation out of him. This man loves to tease. Annoy you so much to the point where you have to say something, which will definitely get your wilder side out of you. Oh, and don’t even worry about being cringe, it’s not like he’s any better.
Kuroo has also become incredibly good at reading people. It’s one of his biggest talents. You won’t even have to say or hint at anything, because he can instantly tell when something is bothering you and will always be there to help, even if you don’t ask for it. It feels so endearing, and you feel so relaxed knowing that he just knows you, letting you stay independent but always being available when you need that extra little push.
Looking after Kenma has given him a hot dominant protective pass too :p. At this point it’s second nature to him, he would always keep you close, bringing you towards him by your waist when some man looks at you on the street, sending them a glare so intimidating that anyone would be scared shitless.
You guys would probably spend most of your time at his, having mini dance parties (in which Kuroo shamelessly showcases his atrocious singing voice) or indulging yourself with playing video games with Kenma, (but kuroo is so shit at playing that Kenma is the only repeatable competitor at this point).
Hope you liked it | (• ◡•)|
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Halloween Festival (Final Fantasy XV Imagine)
Characters: Noctis Lucis Caelum, Prompto Argentum, Igins Scientia, Gladiolus Amicitia
Fandom: Final Fantasy XV
Tags: Interactive imagine, Halloween
A/N: Along the story you will be given two choices for some situations, each of which are linked to that part of the story that is written in a different post so the main story is all in here and you can contine reading after it. So when the choice is given, just click the link of the choice you made and get back to this post to continue reading. Links open in a new tab. Enjoy!!! ;)
Prompto seemed very excited to be in the Halloween festival, judging by how he skipped around like a child and couldn’t keep the grin off his face. But I knew it wouldn’t last long, he was a scaredy-cat like myself.
I wasn’t worried about Gladio and Ignis at all, though. Perhaps Ignis would jolt up in startle every now and then, but Gladio wouldn’t even blink.
About Noctis… I didn’t really know what to expect. He seemed somewhat enthused, and I knew he enjoyed Halloween.
I would probably be the worst one of all. I startled easily and the jumpscares would definitely get me. But I was still very excited, Halloween was so cool and fun! Especially if I was spending the day in there with my friends!
Even though the place was filled with people in costume, prepared to scare us even before we got to the haunted houses. They were part of the festival and I noticed they would startle the people passing by.
To be honest, I felt on edge because I expected them to scare me at any moment.
“Why did we have to come here during the evening?” I asked them as we made our way to the main attraction of the festival.
“To get in the mood” Noctis grinned in amusement, letting his eyes wander to let the Halloween spirit sink in.
“Why? Someone’s scared?” Gladio chimed in with a smug smirk.
“Me? Not at all” I huffed, brushing it off. “How bad can it be?”
“Exactly” Ignis calmly adjusted his glasses, apparently neutral to the whole thing. “You don’t seem frightened at all”
I glared at him, just to be defeated by the soft expression he dedicated me next.
“Let’s go already” I rolled my eyes at them, knowing how much they would tease me that day.
“Way ahead of you” Apparently nonchalant about it, Noctis leaded the way.
“C’mon, Y/N!” Prompto eagerly linked his arm with mine. “Halloween festival!”
I sighed and followed in compliance, trying to enjoy the spookiness instead of letting it make me jittery.
_
The first haunted house was completely dark, as expected, except for the flashing lights that sometimes had a reddish hint. There was dramatic music loudly blasting through the rooms that made me feel tense, contributing to the suspenseful mood.
My friends walked with me, and only Prompto seemed to jump at the scares that lunged at us. Noctis did too, but he wasn’t nearly as loud as our blond friend and definitely tried to hide it more.
The other two just followed us calmly, not being too affected by it at all. Except for the fact that Gladio had a laugh whenever one of us got scared.
We advanced cautiously, the three of us –Prom, Noct and I –linking arms and going together. It seemed like we were safe from jumpscares at that moment when…
AAAAAAH!
A man carrying a chainsaw jumped at me, making me squeal loudly in cringe.
Prompto screamed next to my ear, pulling at my arm as he backed away from him. Noctis gasped lowly and jolted up slightly. I, on the other hand, screamed at the top of my lungs and hid my face on Noctis’ shoulder.
I could not believe my ears when I heard a snicker coming from Ignis. Outraged, I slowly turned around to meet him and saw him covering his mouth with one hand.
“Are you laughing at me, Iggy?!”
“I would never!”
“I would!” Gladio patted my back as he encouraged us to keep going.
I sighed and held on to my friends as we walked further into the haunted house. The artificial sound of lightning, accompanied with the artificial lighting, made me jump and consequently made Prompto jump too
Only to be scared with the most stupid thing.
BOOO!
A little girl –allegedly creepy- who was holding a little doll had literally just shouted ‘boo!’ at us. We hadn’t really even noticed she was there.
I was the only one scared by this, apart from Prompto, who made me feel less embarrassed about being so jumpy.
After a while and many more jumpscares, we exited the first haunted house.
Noctis had jumped a little, but always cleared his throat awkwardly and pretended like it didn’t get him and he actually chuckled. Ignis did jump a couple of times, even though he got startled noiselessly. Prompto was the only one maybe worse than I was, the boy squealed at the top of his lungs, visibly jumped and clung on to whoever was closest to him at that very moment, which usually it was me. And Gladio didn’t bat an eye with every single jumpscare, but instead heartedly laughed at our misfortunes.
When we walked outside, I felt energized and a bit hyper due to the constant racing of my heart and probably the adrenaline rush. I was still jittery and nervous, but at the same time I was having a great time.
As we made our way to the next attraction, a very tall man with his face painted a deadly pale color came out of nowhere and roared in my face like a wild animal.
I flailed around like an octopus, wondering where he came from, and hid my face with my hands out of pure instinct. The guy seemed amused by my reaction, because he laughed a little before he left.
I turned around, feeling like my cheeks were burning but my heart was racing because of the scare. I was so tense, I felt like I needed a hug.
GO TO PROMPTO FOR COMFORT // GO TO NOCTIS FOR COMFORT
_
We made a pause in our spooky pilgrimage from the first haunted house to the next –avoiding scary dressed up festival workers as much as we could –to have a snack.
We bought some different and creative Halloween themed snacks and ate them while we took lots of photos and messed around some more. The festival was really big, and so we wandered around it for about half an hour.
Next, we found a stall that sold Halloween accessories and bought a couple of them since we didn’t really have any costumes and we wanted some. I bought a witch hat, Prompto bought an ugly mask that he enjoyed scaring us –or attempting to scare us –with. Gladio bought a cape and vampire teeth and Noctis put a fake knife over his head. But the best part was Ignis, as he reluctantly let Noctis convince him to wear a silver wig that made him look hilarious with his unamused expression.
As we calmly made our way around the festival, I observed Prompto.
He seemed so distracted and absent that my instinct told me it would be the perfect moment to scare him and a mischievous little voice told me to do it. After all, he was the one most affected by the spooky environment other than myself.
SCARE PROMPTO // DON’T SCARE PROMPTO
As we walked around –we couldn’t seem to find the second haunted house at first. The festival was very big, and filled with a big crowd that distracted us along with the many Halloween treats that were sold all around, including giant gummy pumpkins, caramel apples, and other treats that looked like brains, zombies and other spooky Halloween stuff.
Being alert and expecting one of the workers in costumes to scare me like they had before, I squeaked when Noctis caught up with me and appeared next to me.
“Calm down!” He complained, pushing his shoulder against mine. “It’s just me, I’m not scary!”
“She’s freaking out” Gladio observed in amusement, pointing his thumb at me as he grinned at Ignis.
“I am” I looked all around me before turning around to face the big guy. “Gladio, come here and protect me!”
“What if I don’t wanna, scaredy-cat?”
“Iggy, tell him something!”
“There is nothing to be afraid about, Y/N” My friend calmly reached out to place a hand on my shoulder.
“You’re not helping!” I complained, actually being a little silly. Especially because Gladio was cracking up again.
“I’ll protect you!” Prompto gallantly offered, sticking his chest out to appear stronger.
“Please” Gladio pushed him so hard that he nearly fell.
“If anything she’ll have to protect you, Prompto” Noctis draped an arm over his shoulders, more playful than usual.
“You did scream louder than me in there” I admitted, winking an eye at him to know we were goofing around.
“It’s supposed to be Halloween” The blond was blushing, and was averting his eyes from us. “Not pick on poor Prompto day”
I let out a guffaw and kindly patted his arm to show my fondness.
“You still want protection, Y/N?” Noctis teased me still, enjoying to fluster me.
“Yes, do you volunteer?”
“Not really…”
“It would be better if you faced your fears in order to overcome them” Ignis assured, elegantly shoving his hands on his pants pockets.
“You just want to see me suffer!” I whined, dragging my feet across the ground.
“That is preposterous, dear” I had never seen Ignis smile for so long before!
“Well, I do want to see you suffer” Gladio evilly got close to me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “So you’re going first”
I noticed that he positioned me in front of a building that definitely was another haunted house. We had found it.
“I’m not going first!” I complained, wanting to go last and be safe behind them.
Besides, I had already gone first with Noctis and Prompto in the first one!
“Are you sure about that?” Gladio teased me, creepily standing behind me to get on my nerves.
I rolled my eyes, reluctantly obliging and leading the way.
“Okay” I complied, however crossing my arms with determination. “But I can’t go alone!”
“How bad can it be, right?” Gladio teased me, using my own words.
“I guess I will protect you…” Noctis playfully yet sweetly smirked as he positioned himself next to me.
He offered me his arm with apparent reluctance, even if his eyes shone with friendliness. I clung on to his arm, and even knowing that we weren’t in actual danger and we were having fun despite being startled and jumpscared, it made me feel safer.
“Here we go” Ignis sighed, quite irritated.
I knew he wasn’t a big fan of Halloween as he found it to be a childish and silly holiday, but he was probably used to giving in to things with Noct.
Besides, he seemed to be having fun with our goofy demeanor.
We came in, with Prompto following closely, along with Gladio and then Ignis. We arrived at the second haunted house of the day.
This one felt a lot calmer, and there was no background music to set any moods. The lack of music or ambiance was far more disturbing than the flashing crimson lights or the suspenseful notes.
I was definitely more scared as we immersed ourselves in that one. Perhaps because I was still tense from the first house, or maybe it was just that it was too quiet and calm in there. Which couldn’t be good.
Two hands gently rested on my back, guiding me through that place. Gladio.
A fake skeleton suddenly jumped at us, and I was not expecting it to be starting so early. It scared the hell out of me!
What can I say, I was not prepared for the first big jumpscare already!
Seeking comfort, I instinctively curled up against who was behind me. It happened to be Ignis, who began stuttering flustered by the sudden needy attitude of mine.
“Are you alright, Y/N?” He actually worried, resting his hands warmly against my back.
“Uh…” I breathed out, trying to even my panting. “Give me a moment”
“Haven’t got all day!” Gladio said behind me, sticking his head over my shoulder.
“Why don’t you go first if you’re so brave, big guy?” I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Yeah!” Prompto supported me, actually hating to be leading the way. Even if he was hiding behind me and Noct the whole time.
“Allow me, children” Gladio gladly lead the way and left Noctis and I behind, reuniting with Prompto.
“Prompto, keep your camera ready” Noctis whispered to his friend.
“Yeah, he might actually get scared” I excitedly said, hoping I got to see it.
“It is not likely” At first I thought Ignis sounded skeptical, but then he added something else. “Yet not impossible”
“Watch and learn” Gladio said to us, smugly, as he navigated the place.
However, just when he had walked only a few steps, a clown popped out of his hiding place and planted himself a mere centimeters away from Gladio’s face.
Our friend yelped. Gladio actually got startled! He even lifted his fists up in a fighting stance, out of instinct! It was hilarious! I thought nothing could perturb his stoic and fearless demeanor!
That would be a fun haunted house!
_
When I was calmly walking down the street, trying to recover from the tension and jitteriness from the second haunted house, something made me jump out of my skin.
Gladio’s voice had whispered a ‘boo!’ at me while he slapped his arms on my back. The scream that followed earned a loud guffaw from his part.
Fuming mad, I turned around to be face to face with him.
“Gotcha real good there” My friend smugly grinned at me.
Maybe I should tease him to get some revenge.
GET REVENGE ON GLADIO // DON’T GET REVENGE ON GLADIO
It was getting late, and we were starting to grow tired. Not that we hadn’t laughed a lot and spent one of the best evenings ever. But people were also starting to leave for the day. Because the place was starting to get empty, I had definitely kept my guard down when I shouldn’t have.
Another scarer, this one on stilts so I had no way of noticing him getting closer. I didn’t see anyone until him –or her, I couldn’t really tell under that loose tunic and all that much makeup, it was definitely a much more elaborate costume than others –crouched down before me made an ugly scary face.
“Aaaah!” Prompto screamed behind me, and Noctis yelped as well.
I, on the other hand, internalized my heart attack this time.
“Gods…” Even Ignis had gotten startled, and he had gotten mad at himself for it too.
Nope. I was done with having mini heart attacks every time someone jumped at me, I hid there where I wouldn’t be bothered again.
“Where’s Y/N?” I heard them calling for me.
“Here…” I reluctantly admitted from my hiding spot.
When Gladio turned around and saw I had been using him as a human shield as I tried to recover, he broke out in laughter.
“What?” I complained with a resigned pout. “It feels safe in there!”
I definitely needed to feel safe in order to recover from all the spookiness!
I needed another hug! It was the best medicine. So I went for it.
GO TO GLADIO FOR COMFORT // GO TO IGNIS FOR COMFORT
We couldn’t be bothered to go into another haunted house –anyway, it would be pretty much the same thing like the other two –and we took a walk around the festival before finally going back home. It had been a fun night in which we got scared, teased each other and were silly together. I was glad that they put a Halloween festival, and I couldn’t wait to come back next year.
#chocobros x reader#chocobros#halloween#imagine#oneshot#halloween imagine#halloween oneshot#ffxv#ffxv imagine#ffxv oneshot#ffxv halloween imagine#faves#ffxv halloween oneshot#final fantasy xv#final fantasy xv imagine#final fantasy xv oneshot#ff15#ff15 imagine#ff15 oneshot#reader insert#not requested#ff#interactive imagine
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Class Clown Part 4
Yeah I know I posted Part 3 last night, but I’ve been on the road all day so I decided to right a part 4. It’s on mobile so it’s sloppy, but when I get home I’ll clean up parts 3 and 4 and make it more presentable, and embed links to reach the other parts. If you want to read parts 1, 2 or 3 I’ll reblog them. Thank you for your support, it means a lot. :)
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“So that’s why you’re too busy for me.” Jin stares down at you, his eyes cold and hardened.
“Yeah…so?” You shift uncomfortable and glance around the now empty hallway, cringing as the bell rings.
“So, you’re choosing him over me? Him? Kim Taehyung?” Jin looks incredulous.
“I thought you were his best friend, why are you so freaked out about this?” You feel defensive now of V, since he’s so pure and loyal and you can tell how much he respects Jin.
“Yeah I am, but there’s always been a hierarchy in our relationship. He was the funny social one, he could be everybody’s friend, but I’m the charmer. I’m the one girls are supposed to go for! I know you’ve liked me for like, ever. I’ve seen you staring at me and blushing since like middle school. Why don’t you want me anymore? What changed?” Jin steps closer, desperation and edge in his voice. He almost seems afraid that you didn’t want him anymore, desperate to make you want him. Desperate to figure out why you don’t.
“I…” as you stare up at him, his plump lips, his dark eyes, and broad shoulders, you can’t find a reason not to want him. But when you think about who this boy is, you can think of a million reasons. “Want the short answer or the long one?” You smirk defiantly crossing your arms. His eyes widen with surprise and then they darken, turning cold. He grits his teeth and steps closer until your chests are merely inches apart, and his face is nearing yours.
“Excuse me?” He growls, sizing you up.
“You’re pompous, arrogant, a player, a fake, a liar, manipulative, controlling, and all around disgusting. Judging from how many girls you take out I wouldn’t be surprised if you had every STD known to man.” You finish and cock your eyebrow, pushing him away. His dark eyes burn wild with rage and confusion, his eyebrows are furrowed and his face contorted into a desperate snarl.
“You take that back.” He growls narrowing his eyes and pushes you against the lockers, his hands tight around your wrists, pinning you there.
“I’d rather loose valedictorian than take back any of that.” You narrow your eyes back, a rage burning inside of you now as well. Right as his grip on you tightens and he’s about to snap something back at you, the fire alarm goes off, and the halls fill with students. Jin looks around briefly before meeting your face and his in a deep passionate kiss. You gasp against his lips and struggle against his arms, but he’s much stronger than you so he keeps you in your place. He continues kissing you, and despite your anger you have to admit he’s a good kisser. You open your eyes, frantically looking around as people gasp and point and whisper as they walk, when your eyes meet his. V stands still, brown eyes wide and lips parted in surprise. Jin finally pulls away and smirks at you whispering in your ear, “see ya later sweetheart.” He saunters off through the crowd, leaving you staring at V in horror, gasping for breath.
“V it wasn't—” you start, walking towards him. He shakes his head stepping back from you.
“No..just..just get away from me.” V pushes through the crowd running away, leaving you alone. Tae’s POV:
As I walked down the hallway, talking amongst my friends, my heart thudded to a stop. There, in the middle of the hallway, stood Y/N and Jin, making out I guess you could say. She looked my way, and Jin pulled away, whispering something in her ear with a smile before walking away. She doesn’t want me. I was right all along, she doesn’t want me. I’m just a joke. A pity date. It had always been that way with Jin and I. I was the jokester side kick, and Jin was the playboy who everybody wanted. I should’ve known. She was probably just using me to get to him.
“V it wasn't—” she starts to make her way over to me, but I’m not getting pulled into this.
“No…just..just get away from me.” I turn shoving past the other students, right out the door, and right down the street.
I walk home and hastily open the door, feeling tears streaming down my face. The only time my heart has been broken was when my mother died. This feels different. My mom’s death, I knew I couldn’t stop. It was going to come whether we were ready or not. But this one felt like it was my fault. I felt as though I were the one to blame. For being unlovable, for being a joke, for being me. I slam the door and sob, leaning my forehead against the door. I have nobody. Jungkook is at school, and won’t be home until tomorrow. I can’t come to Jin about this, I can’t go to Y/N, I can’t go to Hobi and Yoongi because they’re with Jin right now. I have nobody. It never occurred to me how alone I was. The only person who would care if I died is Jungkook. Hobi, Yoongi, and Jin would be sad, but they’d move on fairly fast I think. Y/N wouldn’t even bat an eye. So why am I here? What am I doing? Who am I kidding? I’m such a screw up. I look to the kitchen where I see a kitchen knife and I look down at my wrists, rubbing my hands over them. I can’t. I’m a coward I could never. I stumble my way to the couch and bury my face in my hands sobbing. My phone vibrates and I sniffle taking it out, checking it.
From Jin:
Hey, where are you?
I sob harder at my old friend. Why would he do this to me? He’s always been there for me, what changed? Even he hates me, it seems. Within the course of the hour, I receive 60 texts from Y/N, all begging to explain. I get texts from Hobi and Yoongi, some from Jungkook, and a few more from Jin. I throw my phone across the room, coughing as a cry. I’m so involved in my meltdown, I don’t even hear the door open. It’s not until there’s a hand on my shoulder that I look up. My dad stands there, sober, and cleaned up. I haven’t seen him like this in years. He’s shaved, his hair is brushed, and he smells like cologne, not beer. I hastily wipe my eyes and try to calm down.
“Broken heart?” He asks, his voice deeper and rougher than I remember. I nod a little and sniffle looking away. He sits next to me. “I remember how that felt.” Silence. “It’ll get better. Don’t..don’t ah let yourself go the way I did…it doesn’t solve anything. It just pushes those you have left further away.” He stares at me, as though he hasn’t seen me in a while. I squirm under his gaze. “Taehyung, I’m sorry. I…when Vanessa, your mother died…I couldn’t take it. You boys, you look so much like her. You remind me of her. And I..I love you both so much I just…I didn’t want to loose you and feel worse, so I tried to push myself away from you..but you guys never left. After what I did to Jungkook the other day..I knew I had to get my act together. I went to the bank and paid off our debts, so money will be tight, as usual. I went to the unemployment office and got my resume, and set up 4 job interviews. I want to change. I want to be a part of your lives. I want to be there for you. I’m sorry Taehyung, I truly am.” He says and rubs his neck with his hand sheepishly. I’m taken aback. After countless years of wondering who would take care of us, of how we’d have a figure, I never would’ve imagined this day. Before I know it I’m in his arms and he’s hugging me. I’m crying, and he sounds like he is too.
Your POV: You feel numb as you go throughout the day. People stare at you. You’re Jin’s new play toy. People whisper behind your back as you pass. Who knew the valedictorian had a thing for playboys like that. People wonder how far Jin will take you. How low your inhibitions are. How long you’ll last. You search people’s faces as you pass, hoping V will be one of them. He isn’t. As the day ends, Amari finds you.
“What happened to you?” She looks at you as if you’re a stranger to her. You and her take a walk, you explaining everything to her, soon in tears. You somehow end up in front of his old house again, before she starts to walk you home.
“No, I don’t want my family to see me this way.” You two take a detour to the ice cream parlor, treating yourselves. As you two dine, you look over Amari’s shoulder seeing him. The devil. Kim Seokjin. Sat with his trademark smirk, eating with Hoseok and min Yoongi. Before you realize it, you’re on your feet, walking towards him. You’re at his table, tears in your eyes, and Amari on her feet watching.
“Well hey sweetheart, back for more?” Jin smirks and Hoseok and Yoongi glance, seeing the look in your eyes.
“You are a monster. How could you do this to him?! Your best friend?! He would do anything for you! He would never betray you! He has a heart and feelings and dreams and passions he’s not just some sidekick for you to mess around with and rely on without giving back! I care about him Seokjin! He’s real! He’s pure! He’s everything you’re not and I think that’s what you’re scared of! I hate you Kim Seokjin! I hate you with all my heart!” You shout, tears falling. Before you realize it, your fist is on his cheek, and his head snaps back hitting the wall, he swears under his breath cupping his jaw and rubbing his head. Hoseok laughs uncomfortably, and Yoongi watches Amari. You run out the door and Amari chases you.
Tae’s POV:
The weekend passes. I spend it with Dad and Jungkook, talking about everything. Getting to know our father. Him getting to know us. We help prep him for his job interviews, and it honestly gets my mind off of everything that’s happens. This is what I’ve needed. This is what has been missing. My family. I come back on Monday, as happy as ever. I walk into homeroom and see Y/N, looking tired. Her eyes meet mine and she offers me a small smile and I cock an eyebrow and sit down with my boys. Jin doesn’t show up. I ask Hobi and Yoongi where he is, and they glance.
“Ah..he got in a fight.” Yoongi says. My eyes widen, despite what he’s done, he’s my friend.
“With who?!”
“Y/N..” Hoseok looks uncomfortable, and scratches the back of his neck.
“At the ice cream parlor Friday night, she came up to him and slugged him across the face and he hit his head. We took him into the hospital cause he wasn’t right after that. Turns out she broke his jaw, and he got a mild concussion from hitting his head on the wall. It was awesome.” Yoongi says, smiling a little and shrugging.
“Why’d they fight?” My mind swims with questions, one of them being, how hard does this chick hit?!
“Well she was shouting about how he’s a jerk to you and how you don’t deserve him and how she cares about you and he ruined it. But I’m no secretary so who am I to tell you.” Yoongi casts a glance back at Amari, who stares on, oblivious. My eyes travel to Y/N, who’s staring at her paper, obviously not paying attention. My heart starts to flutter as I study her. From her hair down, framing her face, from her tired eyes, her perfect lips..I miss her. I cried for solid hour or so about this girl on Friday, and it feels like centuries since I’ve spoken to her. Everything happened so fast. My heart was broken, I wanted nothing to do with her, she totally destroyed Jin, and now I’m back in square one, admiring her from afar. I have to fix this.
#bts#bts v#bts taehyung#bts jungkook#bts jimin#bts jin#bts jhope#bts rap monster#bts scenario#bts scene#bts scenarios#bts suga#bts reactions#bts fanfction#taehyung#taehyung angst#jungkook#jimin#jhope#rap monster#suga
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Weirdos
Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Reader
Request: Anon asked: Hi! Could you please do an Emily Prentiss x reader where they're inseparable best friends and have feelings for each other and the reader confides in her father Rossi about her feelings and he makes it his mission to set them up?
A/N: This is cute. I’m loving all the Emily fluff requests I’ve had!
If you have requested something and I haven’t posted it yet, just know that I’ve seen it and I will upload it. I’ve just been a bit down in the dumps lately and my motivation has been shattered, but I’m doing just fine and I promise to get to work!!
“Drinks tonight?” Morgan asked the group as everyone piled into the jet.
“I’m down. Could use a pick-me-up after a case like that,” Emily was the first to respond. She sat down on one of the seats, gently brushing past you, her arm grazing yours for a moment. You felt a shiver run down your body, trying to cover up the obvious reaction her touch had on you by sitting down quickly next to your father, who eyed you suspiciously.
“Sure. I’m sure Henry’s sitter wouldn’t mind getting paid for a couple extra hours,” JJ said.
“What about you Pretty Boy?” Morgan asked Reid.
“Why not?” he replied.
“Rossi’s?” Emily said, looking at you and your father.
Before you could say anything, he spoke up. “I think I’ll pass, but I’m sure Y/N will go.”
“Actually I’m pretty tired. Probably shouldn’t,” you said, stuttering over your words. David looked at you with narrowed eyes. What’s up with you?
“You sure?” Emily asked in a soft voice. She sounded hopeful “I can buy for you if you want, I don’t mind.”
“No, thanks though, Em,” you said, opening up a book. You could feel your father’s eyes still on you but you ignored them.
“Well if you change your mind...” She trailed off, smiling at you suggestively. Your heart seemed to skip a beat.
“Yeah. Thanks,” you repeated, looking at you book.
A few minutes after takeoff, the rest of the team were doing their own things: Reid was reading a book, Morgan was listening to music, JJ was taking a nap, as well as Emily and Hotch was looking through paperwork.
“Come here,” your father whispered to you. You looked over to see him standing from his seat and heading towards the back of the jet, away from any listening ears. You didn’t move from your seat, rather just looked at him questioningly. When he turned around and saw you weren’t following him, he waved his hand frustratingly to come over there. You sighed and rolled your eyes, unsure of why the heck he was being so weird.
“What?” you whisper-shouted when you reached him.
“You’re acting weird,” he blurted in a soft voice. You blinked.
“I guess I take after you,” you replied sarcastically. He ignored your comment.
“You’re always up for drinks, why don’t you want to go?” he asked quietly. Realizing what he meant by ‘weird’, you sighed, looking over at Emily’s sleeping body instinctively.
“I just-” you started, but didn’t really know how to finish.
“Are you mad at her or something?” he asked, following your line of vision. He knew you and Emily were best friends, hell, everyone knew. You did nearly everything together, but lately every time you thought about hanging out with her, it wasn’t just an excited feeling of seeing your best friend you tended to get. It was this feeling of warmth and nervousness that began to plague you. For the longest time, you pushed away the feelings, telling yourself you were crazy.
But then the feelings grew, and there was no denying the crush you’d developed.
“No,” you answered him, not wanting to give away your secret. But he was your father. Ultimately, he was the only one you felt completely comfortable confiding in. Sure, you could go to JJ or Morgan, but it just seemed easier with your dad.
“Then why are you acting weird? I feel like I’ve never seen you this way before,” he said, lightly gripping your arm. You sighed.
“I like her,” you finally admitted.
“What?” he asked, clearly a bit shocked at the confession.
“Dad, don’t act surprised. You’re a profiler for god’s sake.”
“I am, though. I thought you two were besties.”
“Jesus, Dad, don’t say that,” you said, cringing.
“But I’m right, aren’t I? You two are the closest of anyone on the team,” he replied.
“Yeah, we are. That’s why I’m nervous about it. If she doesn’t feel the same way...” You trailed off, not wanting to think about it. Your father narrowed his eyes, his thinking face was on. “Dad?”
“What?” he asked, suddenly acting too nonchalant.
“Don’t,” you said simply, walking back to your seat. When you sat down and reopened your book, you looked up at your father, who was suddenly wearing a smirk. Oh no.
He came and sat back down next to you, smiling to himself.
“Dad,” you warned. He held his hands up in innocence. “What are you thinking? Because I don’t really like the look you’re giving me.”
“I have no clue what you are talking about,” he said sarcastically, taking the book from your hands and beginning to read it himself. You rolled your eyes and shook your head. Whatever he had up his sleeve, you didn’t want to know. So you dozed off for the rest of the fight.
Once the team was back at the BAU in the bullpen, everyone gathered their things and herded at the door, ready to go out.
“You sure you’re out?” Emily asked you as you walked up.
“Yeah I think I’m-”
“We’re both in,” you father said, coming to stand beside you. You looked at him with wide eyes. Dad, what the hell are you doing?
“You’re in, mister, ‘I see you all too much’?” Morgan asked with a smirk.
“Yes ‘chocolate thunder’, I am coming to the bar with all you children. Someone needs to babysit,” he replied earning a couple chuckles at the use of Garcia’s nickname.
“Yay! Full house,” the blond in question said excitedly, leading the way out the door. You waited until the rest of the team were in the hallway before you stopped your dad.
“What are you doing?” you asked him quietly.
“I’m going out to have a drink with my children,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders.
“I told you I didn’t want to go.”
“If you don’t go, then how am I supposed to be your wing man?” he asked with a sly smile before walking out the door. You sighed. I can’t believe I’m going to let him do this, you thought.
“Don’t you just love the way he moves?” Garcia asked, not taking her eyes off Morgan on the dance floor with other women.
“Why don’t you join him?” you asked her with a giggle.
“This cute butt is quite fine where it is, thank you,” she replied, sipping at her cocktail.
“What about you, Y/N You should go dance,” your dad said, leaning in so specifically Emily could hear.
“I don’t think so,” you said sheepishly, giving him a glare.
“Aw, come on! I’m sure you’ve got some great moves!” Emily shouted over the music. Her smile was warm and sent your heart into a fluttering mess.
“Maybe you should get her out there?” David said to her. Wow, way to make it obvious, Dad, you thought to yourself, continuing to glare at him.
“Yeah, come on!” Emily said, grabbing your hand without warning. The sensation burned at your skin, making a blush take over your face. Reluctantly, you let Emily lead you to the dance floor. You could feel the eyes of the rest of the agents on you, making it that much more difficult.
For a few beats, Emily threw around her arms in a string of silly dance moves, her facial expressions making you laugh. She continued on to do the robot, cabbage patch, and even a bit of disco style moves. You couldn’t help but join in, the two of you making fools of yourselves, losing the image of professional FBI agents and instead coming off as crazy weirdos. This was just how your relationship with her was, just wild best friends, connected at the hip usually. This was what you were afraid of losing.
After a good amount of time dancing like crazy people, even getting JJ and Reid to join in, Emily smiled at you and grabbed your wrist, pulling you to the front of the bar where the noise of patrons and music was at its minimum.
“Two shots,” she said to the bartender. As he went off the get the drinks, you both sat down on the bar stools, your smile still present from your dancing antics.
“You are so weird,” you blurted with a laugh.
“As are you, Y/N,” she replied, picking up the shots and handing you one. “To weirdos.”
“To weirdos,” you replied, clinking the tiny glass with hers and shooting it, the liquid burning on its way down your throat.
“I have a question,” she asked suddenly.
“Shoot.”
“What’s been up with you lately?”
You could feel your face heat up at her question. Instantly, the smile was gone and a look of worry spread across your features.
“You don’t have to answer it,” she said. “I just know that you’ve been a bit distant lately and I want you to know that you can talk to me. You’re my best friend, I’ll always be here for you.” Her hand was on yours, her thumb gently soothing across your knuckles.
A surge of confidence bolted through you, and there was no taking back the words that came out of your mouth.
“I don’t want to be your friend,” you blurted, the alcohol in your system making your confession easier. “I mean I don’t want to just be your friend, Em.”
She looked at you with a look of question, barely following.
“I really like you Emily,” you finally said, looking down at your now empty shot glass. “I have for a while and that’s why I’ve been acting so weird lately because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship because it’s the most precious thing in the world to me and I wasn’t sure how you felt and that scared me and I-”
Your words were cut off by a pair of lips attaching to your own. Emily’s grip on your hand tightened as she smiled into the kiss. After processing what was happening, you leaned in further, deepening the kiss, fireworks exploding in your head and heart.
Your hands had a mind of their own as they reached around Emily’s neck to caress the soft skin you’d longed to touch for so long. The kiss grew heated and you both nearly fell out of your chairs.
“What do you say we take this to my place?” she whispered into your ear, sending a shiver straight down your spine. You pressed your lips into a tight smile and nodded, tugging at her shirt.
“I’ll call a cab.”
#emily prentiss imagine#emily prentiss fluff#emily prentiss fanfic#emily prentiss fan fic#emily prentiss#prentiss#prentiss x reader#emily prentiss x reader#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fan fic#criminal minds fluff#agent prentiss#paget brewster#agent prentiss imagine#agent prentiss fanfic#agent prentiss x reader#agent prentiss fluff#paget brewster imagine#paget brewster fluff
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Hunger - chapter 21
Hunger master post
The wolf can hear three heartbeats outside the door. The wolf likes those odds. He has his alpha to lead him and his human pack mate by his side, and the two other humans as well. The two others are not pack, but also not enemies. The wolf is confused by them, but his alpha trusts them, and the wolf trusts his alpha.
The wolf is wearing his human skin now, but he is pushing away his human thoughts. They are waiting like the hunters behind the door, ready to burst in and try to overwhelm the wolf. It is easier, for now, to think in the wolf’s terms. His alpha is here. That is all the wolf needs to know. The human clambering in the back of the wolf’s mind is to be ignored for now. That human, Derek, that boy, who wants to hug Uncle Peter and cry and demand the answers to a hundred questions there is no time to answer. That boy who thought his uncle was dead along with the rest of them. That boy who thought he was the last surviving Hale. That boy retreated long ago and left the world to the wolf. And the wolf is ready to fight.
Beside him, his Stiles is armed with a piece of chain.
The wolf feels a growl begin to rumble in his chest. It is a sound that signifies a hundred different things: a warning to his boy to be careful, a warning to the hunters that his boy is deadly, a signal to his alpha that he and his boy have his back, a reminder to the moon that he knows she is watching him, and an acknowledgement that he will soon be tasting blood.
The wolf is proud of his boy right now. Stiles has been so small and so scared, but here at last is the anger he has honed to a sharp edge. Here at last are his teeth and claws. Here at last is his chance to fight. Here at last is the measure of him, and the wolf knows he will be magnificent. Stiles has the heart of a wolf.
The heart, yes.
Not the muscle though.
The wolf won’t only be guarding his alpha’s back out there.
His boy catches his eye and nods.
The door bursts open.
***
Stiles has never been in a fight in his life. He’s not even counting that one time he spent a week in a group home waiting for a new placement and that kid stabbed him in the arm with a pencil, because that was an ambush, and Stiles didn’t even have time to retaliate. He was twelve and Lewis didn’t like crybabies. As though stabbing Stiles in the arm with a pencil would make him cry less. Physical confrontation has never been Stiles’s thing. He prefers to be a safe distance away before he detonates a few verbal bombs, but that’s not how things are going to work here. Stiles thinks he has the stomach for violence, he’s just afraid he doesn’t have the skill.
Chris Argent sidesteps a guy, then spins around and cracks him in the face with his elbow. The guy drops to the floor, blood pouring out of his busted nose, and Stiles feels a stab of envy.
Peter takes two bullets as he launches himself at the second hunter through the door, and slashes the guy’s throat with his claws. Stiles is standing close enough that he’s hit in the face with a spray of blood like hot rain.
Derek goes for the third guy—Readbeard—and Stiles watches in horror as he’s jerked back as the guy fires a taser at him, the probes hook into his chest, and Redbeard lights him up.
“Hey!” Stiles yells, and swings the chain.
He’s not expecting the effect to be so dramatic. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting, really, but the end of the chain catches Redbeard right across the face, right across the eyes, and it opens his skin up like it’s a piece of ripe fruit.
Redbeard goes down fast. The bloody chain is still arcing wildly through the air when he hits the ground.
Derek pulls the taser probes out of his chest by the wires. His eyes are flashing blue, and he’s in a type of shift that Stiles hasn’t seen before. He’s standing upright like a man, but his face isn’t human anymore. He has fangs, and his ears are pointed, and Stiles wants to reach out and touch his sudden wild sideburns. His lips are pulled back in a feral snarl. It should be terrifying. Maybe it is. Derek and Peter are objectively terrifying, but isn’t it about time Stiles had something scary on his side?
Derek doesn’t make Stiles cringe and cower. Derek makes him stand taller.
He reaches out and puts his hand on Derek’s shoulder. Slight tremors are still running through Derek, but he growls, more pissed off than hurt. Stiles squeezes his shoulder.
I’m here.
Derek meets his gaze steadily.
The hunter that Peter dropped is dead, but the other two are still breathing. And bleeding. There’s a lot of bleeding going on. The raven-haired guy produces a bundle of zip ties from one of his pockets and sets about restraining both of the survivors.
Peter Hale leans back against the wall and roars as Chris does his lighter-and-gunpowder trick. It’s…wow. If Stiles’s body could do that, he’d probably have built up a sideline in liquor store robberies by now.
“The situation is this,” Chris says while jamming burning ash into Peter’s sucking chest wound. “This place is fenced. We’re half a mile from the gate. There are infrared cameras and motion detectors set up everywhere outside, and since there aren’t any monitors here, I’m guessing some sort of remote access. Probably with cell phone alerts. There were two other guys on the gate to the south when we arrived, and the fact they’re not here right now tells me that they’re waiting for reinforcements. So we arm up as best we can, and we head north.”
Peter unpeels himself from the wall, inspecting his now-unblemished skin.
“What’s north?” Stiles asks.
“North is where the rest of the McCalls are waiting with wire cutters and my truck,” Chris says.
The rest of the McCalls… Stiles stares down at the raven-haired guy.
“Rafael McCall,” he says, grunting as he pushes a zip-tied Redbeard into the recovery position. “Nice to meet you, Stiles.”
Stiles’s heart skips a beat. “You’re…you’re FBI?”
McCall nods.
“Can you help me get my dad out?”
McCall climbs to his feet. “Let’s get ourselves out first, Stiles.”
Stiles nods, and uses his hoodie to wipe the blood off his face.
***
The outer room yields a few weapons, but none the wolf is interested in. He has claws and fangs, and knows how to use them better than any firearm. He growls when Stiles’s clever fingers reach for some sort of gun, and Stiles levels him with a stare and shoves the gun into the pocket of his hoodie.
“Let’s move!” Chris says.
The wolf shifts back into his favorite form as he steps outside into the darkness. It’s past dawn; it’s cool and it smells of heavy dew. The day is fresh and new. The chill in the air reminds the wolf that the winter he thought he would never survive is still waiting, teeth not quite bared yet. The grass is cold on his paws.
The alpha is shifted into wolf form too. He is rangier than the wolf remembers. More angular. Sharper. The wolf lifts his nose to catch his familiar scent, and falls into step on his flank. His boy follows him. The wolf hears his boy’s breath rasping, and the rattle in his chest.
Too thin. Too cold. Too weak. His boy has a lot of anger in him, but he is not as strong as he should be.
The alpha hears the rattle too, and slows.
Pack.
His boy might not feel it with his dull human senses, but the alpha does. The alpha slows his steps for the boy. Glances back to make sure the boy is keeping up.
The alpha hasn’t scented the boy yet, hasn’t asked him to bare his throat, but he’s already making room for him. He’s already accepting him.
Pack.
And the wolf will tear apart anyone who tries to hurt them.
***
They’re somewhere in the Preserve, Stiles thinks. Must be. There are trees everywhere. He keeps pace with the shifted wolves--one brown and one black--looking back every few moments to check that Chris and McCall are still with them. His mind runs faster than his body. He’s suddenly convinced that Rafael McCall is going to cop a bullet in the back, because Stiles needs him. He’s an FBI agent. He’s going to be the one to get Stiles’s dad out of prison. And the way Stiles’s luck has been going lately? He expects to hear a shot any second now.
Instead he sees a fence.
“Cut it!” Chris yells.
Figures dart forward from the trees. Scott and Allison. Allison stands there with a compound bow raised, while Scott works on the fence with a pair of wire cutters. The fence must be electrified: Stiles can hear popping and hissing sounds, and Scott does that weird half-shift thing that Derek did before. He keeps cutting though, and stands back and peels the fence open as they reach it.
Peter and Derek wait to each side.
“Come on, Stiles!” Scott says, wincing as he holds the chain link.
Stiles dives through, gets zapped when he moved wrong and bumps up against the fence, but Scott uses his free hand to grab him by the back of the hoodie and pull him all the way through.
Stiles lies on the ground, and watches his fingers twitch. At least he didn’t pee himself, right? It takes a moment to get his motor functions back, and by that time Derek is standing over him. He presses his cold nose against Stiles’s cheek, and then licks a stripe up his face with his rough tongue.
“Let’s move!” Chris and Scott’s dad are bringing up the rear.
“We have to get out of here,” Scott says, hauling Stiles to his feet.
The wolves lead the way through the woods.
Stiles is getting out of breath by the time they stumble onto what looks like a fire trail. Chris Argent’s black SUV--with a layer of dust over it now--is parked on the dirt road.
Melissa McCall is standing by it, and so is some guy with a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder. He looks just like--
Stiles stumbles. “Deputy Parrish?” Stiles’s brain must have got fried. “I saw him die!”
Is Stiles going to have to re-evaluate his entire understanding of the universe thanks to Beacon Hills? If werewolves are real, why not something fire resistant? Like a dragon? Or a phoenix? Or a charizard?
No, probably not the last one.
Would be cool though.
“Let’s go!” Chris Argent calls from behind them.
It’s a squeeze getting everyone into the SUV. Rafael McCall and Chris Argent take the front. Parrish and Melissa and Allison take the back seat. Stiles and Scott and the wolves clamber into the cargo space, and Scott pulls the door down behind them.
Stiles has a lapful of wolf. He puts his arms around Derek’s neck, and leans over to bury his face in his warm fur. His lungs ache from the cold air. He really, really wants this to be over now.
“Shit,” Rafael McCall says from the front, and Chris Argent slams on the brakes.
Dread and fear tighten in Stiles’s gut. He looks up, and cranes his head to see.
There’s a police car blocking the dirt road in front of them, strobes flashing, and a group of men standing in front of it. One of them is in uniform. The others aren’t. Behind them there’s a couple of dark SUVs.
“It’s Sheriff Haigh,” Parrish says.
Stiles looks past the sheriff to the old man standing next to him, and his blood runs cold.
It’s Gerard Argent.
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Through the Years / VI ~ IX
A Namjin story set in a royal! AU - Part 2
Word count: 3k+
Timeline: There’s about a year between each sub-part of this story.
Author’s note: This is second part of this story, which includes years six through nine (Pain, Trust, Promise, Distance). The first half, which includes years one through five (Meeting, Respect, Friendship, Fear and Strength), can be found with the link below. The finale will be linked when posted.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Finale
Year VI – Pain
Namjoon was shamelessly running through the narrow streets, barely noticing the curious gaze of the crowd.
“That stupid bastard… That fucking idiot.”
The training center was only few meters away. He sprinted. Upon seeing his prince, the soldier keeping the gate swiftly moved aside. Namjoon could hear his own pulse, irregular and loud.
“Where is he?” he almost yelled at a group of passing soldiers.
“Y-Your Highness-” one of them stuttered.
The prince’s eyes were wild. “Kim Seokjin! Where is Kim Seokjin?”
“Jin? H-he’s in the third facility, with the major.”
Namjoon didn’t linger to thank him. He jumped and ran, as quickly as he could. He was closing in to the third facility when he heard it - his friend’s voice. It was raucous, tainted by pain. Namjoon pushed the heavy wooden door.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he shouted with authority.
His eyes fell on the major. The man was towering Kim Seokjin’s body, holding a whip. The boy as on his knees, his back exposed. There where raw, red gashes across its surface. Before the major could answer, Seokjin turned to face his friend. He looked weary and disoriented, but there was a strange determination lighting his eyes up.
“Namjoon, don’t…” he said, in a croaky voice.
The prince closed the distance between them. He glanced around, noticing the half dozen soldiers scattered around the room. They were staring straight at him, but he ignored them all. The major had backed away slightly, his chin up, and his gaze avoiding Namjoon’s. The prince brought his attention back to his friend.
“Don’t what? Don’t do anything?” he asked, trying to stabilize his voice, which echoed in the silence. “In what world do you think I’ll approve of my best friend getting hurt like this?”
“You swore you would let me be,” Seokjin murmured.
“I swore I’d let you train. I swore I’d let you find yourself in the army. Our deal didn’t include me being a bystander to your public whipping,” he growled.
“I messed up too many times, and this is my chastisement,” the young man said, still on his knees. “It’s the way things work around here, Namjoon.”
His nails dug into his palms. His anger was progressively getting replaced with hopelessness. “Then it’s going to have to change.”
“No, it won’t. This is how the army functions, and you are fully aware of that. You can’t make it different for me. I don’t want to be an exception just because of our friendship.”
“I’m the most powerful person in this building, Seokjin. You can’t force me to watch you get beaten up!”
“I won’t forgive you,” Kim Seokjin said flatly. “If you do anything, I won’t forgive you.”
The prince didn’t respond. He felt empty. He had never seen Seokjin so resolute.
“Let go, Namjoon. Let me walk my own path.”
“I- I can’t-”
“Yes, you can,” Seokjin interrupted, his face hard. “You can and you will.” He softened. “I’m going to be okay, I swear.”
Kim Namjoon slowly took a step back. His mouth was as dry as dust. “Are you sure?” he forced himself to ask.
The other nodded.
Namjoon stared at him – at his uncompromising gaze. A minute passed. “Have him brought to my quarters when… when you’re done,” he instructed in a small voice.
He turned and left. He was walking, at first, but his pace became rapider, until he was running at full speed.
Year VII – Trust
“I’m sure she’ll be lovely.”
“I’m not questioning her amiability,” Namjoon argued.
He was eating an apple, a fuming cup of coffee placed on his desk. Kim Seokjin was sitting across from him, sipping on a glass of water.
“I don’t see the problem, then,” Seokjin replied, looking out the window.
“The problem, you see, is that I do not want to get married anytime soon.”
“You won’t get married right away…” he objected. “She’s just a suitor, for the moment. If you two get along, I’m sure your parents will be satisfied. They’ll give you time to get to know her.”
The prince stayed quiet for a moment. “I know I have a duty towards my kingdom. Its prosperity is more important than anything – including my personal comfort. I’m fine with attending boring parties, studying until I can’t keep my eyes eopen, negotiating with shady diplomats and even learning the art of traditional dancing. But my love life… Shouldn’t it be mine?”
“Well, sure,” Seokjin said, shrugging. “Have you noticed that your hardly pay any attention to the fine ladies who have been chasing you, though?”
“They aren’t interesting…” he mumbled.
“Who is interesting, then?”
When Namjoon turned to glance at his friend, he saw that the latter was already watching him intently. They both looked away. Namjoon bit his red apple, observing the steam flying up from his hot drink.
“I don’t know,” he answered.
“Maybe talking to those girls would be a good start. You’re almost of age to marry. It only makes sense for you to consider dating.”
“I don’t need that…”
“What do you mean, you don’t need that? You must maintain to royal line. Her highness your sister is still so young…”
Namjoon sighed. “You’re always thinking so far ahead, Kim Seokjin.”
“And it will take me far in life,” the young man commented, grinning.
“Potentially.”
“Anyway, what did you mean by not needing to date?”
“I just- I don’t feel like I need a significant other. I already have everything I could dream of…”
“You are the heir of a grand kingdom,” Seokjin said, head slightly tilted. “But that doesn’t mean you’ve experienced everything good there is to life. Don’t you ever dream about falling in love?”
“Of course, I do. It just hasn’t been a priority; more like a distant thought in the very back of my head.”
“What about that crush you had on Min Yoon Ji?”
Namjoon closed his eyes, scrunching his nose. “We agreed to not mention that childhood mistake ever again. She was pretty and charismatic… But god, she was so mean. Remember when she poured water all over my shirt after I invited her to dance?”
“It’s was hilarious!” Seokjin exclaimed, his eyes wrinkled. “I heard she recently got engaged to some guy called Park Jimin…”
“Possible.” Despite himself, he got immerged in his awkward childhood memories. He needed to concentrate on something else. “Aren’t we getting a bit side-tracked?”
“Indeed… Oh, but do you remember when you gave her-”
“No more, please,” Namjoon cut him, putting a hand up, cringing.
Seokjin let out a soft laugh. “Sorry.”
“My point was, I don’t need anyone else. I have my parents, my sister… and…” His voice trailed off.
“And?”
Namjoon looked into his friend’s eyes. “You.”
“…me?” Seokjin asked, lips curling.
“I’ve been thinking about how rarely I tell you that I care about you,” he replied.
The other clicked his tongue. “I don’t need to hear it. I know I’m your best friend. I mean, I’m a handsome, smart, young man. Who wouldn’t want me in their life?”
Seokjin had a smug expression, but his cheeks were flushed bright pink. Kim Namjoon made a scoffing sound.
“Moreover,” Seokjin added, now smiling warmly, “You’ve always been there for me – in the best and worse moments of my life. Not even once have I questioned how much you cared about me. It’s just… It’s just how things are. The wind blows, night always comes, and his Highness Kim Namjoon will always be there for me.”
For a while, they didn’t speak.
“I trust you more than anyone, do you know that?” Namjoon suddenly said.
“I do,” Seokjin affirmed, his smile fading at the sight of his prince’s serious eyes.
“Stay with me, will you?” Namjoon asked softly, as if he was afraid of his own words. “Even when you get busy with your life… Even when I step up and become king…”
The soldier didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”
Namjoon seemed to relax. He gave his friend a satisfied grin. “Thanks, Seokjin.”
Year VIII – Promise
The royal garden was surprisingly simple. No animal shaped bushes or complex marble structures. Her Majesty the queen preferred for the focus to be on the flowers. She loved their bright colors, their elegant shape and their sweet perfume.
At the moment, Kim Namjoon wasn’t noticing any of that beauty. He was too busy pacing around and biting the inside of his cheeks.
Seokjin was late. He was supposed to come here as soon as he received the prince’s message. Nonetheless, it had already been half an hour, and Namjoon was still alone.
“I’ll show that bastard what being late to a royal appointment means,” he thought, frantic.
Yet, when Kim Seokjin arrived, a minute later, he could only feel a sense of relief tainted with annoyance. His friend was jogging towards him, still in his uniform. Sweat was making his nose and forehand shine.
“Seokjin,” Namjoon said in a hoarse voice. He cleared his throat, and pushed his shoulders back. “I was scared you had left.”
The soldier had a dark expression. He didn’t bother with formalities. “I’ll be going. Tonight.”
Namjoon’s lips parted, but no words came. He was expecting this. He knew how this would go… but he couldn’t accept it.
“War is harsh,” he said. “You’re not- You can’t go. You’re still so young, Seokjin. You still have so much to look forward to, and-”
Seokjin stopped him. “I got promoted to first lieutenant, today,” he said with a small smile. “I have kids who look up to me, now. They remind me of how I was three years ago… I have a duty towards them, Namjoon. And towards my country.”
“What about me?” Namjoon thought. It was a selfish thought, and he knew it; so, he kept his mouth shut.
“Look at this!” the other said, looking down at his chest. There was a sewed seven branched star – a symbol of victory and honor. “They just gave it to me! For the plan I strategized to steal the enemy’s canon, in last Monday’s battle.”
“That’s great,” Namjoon whispered. “You’ve been doing wonderfully, lately. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks.” He stared at his friend. “I… won’t be seeing you for a while… We expect to come back in a few months, at best.”
“You shouldn’t go,” Namjoon heard himself say.
Seokjin frowned slightly, some anguish showing on his face. “I must.”
“I’m sure we could find away! You could… you could work from the castle, sending troops, and working on-”
“I want to go,” Seokjin interrupted. “I want to know what it is to be on the battlefield – to fight for my kingdom with all my might. To be honorable, and valiant, and strong.”
“You’re all of that! You’re all of that already.”
“I know you think that… but I don’t. Not really,” he said, his eyes on the ground. “I need to this. I’m not sure how I know, but I’m convinced this is what I must do.”
“What if you died?”
“It won’t happen.”
“You can’t know that.”
Seokjin’s face hardened. “I’ll be strong, and I’ll survive.”
Namjoon moved forward without thinking about it. He put a hand on the base of Seokjin’s cheek, his fingers falling onto his neck. Instead of flinching, Seokjin leaned into the touch.
“Promise me,” the prince murmured. “Promise me that’s you’ll be okay. Promise me that I’ll see you again. That’s it’s you who’s going to come back, and not a…” His voice broke. “…a corpse.”
Their faces were inches away. They breathed the same air.
Seokjin gazed into Namjoon’s eyes. “I promise. I’ll come back to you, Namjoon.”
They fell silent. The prince hand was warm against Seokjin’s skin.
“Don’t you dare disappoint me,” Namjoon whispered, after a moment.
“I won’t,” he replied in a low voice.
Namjoon took a deep breath. “Go, then,” his soft voice said. “I believe in you, Kim Seokjin.”
The young lieutenant took a step back; then another, and another. “I’ll see you later,” he said, giving the prince a last smile. He turned away, and left.
As the perfume of the roses and the lilacs tickled his nose, Kim Namjoon watched his best friend’s silhouette growing smaller, until it disappeared.
Year IX – Distance
On a piece of paper was a girl in a big, luxurious dress.
“Who’s that, princess?” Namjoon inquired gently, pointing at the male figure his sister was drawing. For a 5 year old, she had talent.
“That’s Jin-oppa!” she exclaimed, a grin spreading across her face.
“Jin? Kim Seokjin…?” the prince said, his eyebrows lurching up.
“Yes. Look, I’m planning our wedding,” she said quietly, looking left and right to see if anyone was listening.
Namjoon burst out laughing, and the kid seemed somewhat offended.
“Why Seokjin?” the prince asked with a smile, when he calmed down.
“Well, he’s cool, and nice, and he’s a strong soldier, and he has good hair and pretty eyes…” she said, counting on her fingers. “I think we’d be a good match!”
“Is that so?”
“Yup.” She puffed her cheeks, thoughtful. “Although…”
“What is it, princess?” he questioned, placing a strand of hair behind her small ear.
“I think you guys would be a better match.”
His eyes widened. “What?”
“I’d be a cool wedding!” she said, getting excited. “Oh, I could be the flower girl! Will you let me be the flower girl, oppa? Pretty, pretty please?”
“I- Uh…” he managed to say. “I don’t think I’ll get married to Seokjin.”
She frowned. “Why not? You love him, don’t you?”
He considered the question for a moment. “I do, but not quite in a marriage kind of way.”
“You look at his portrait like Father looks at Mother, though,” she replied, turning to the painting of her brother and Kim Seokjin, placed on the wall of the prince’s office.
His eyes followed her gaze. He observed the picture of his friend. The curve of his nose, the way his lips curled up, the shape of his eyelids… All of it was still so familiar, even if he hadn’t seen his friend in person for more than a year.
“See?” the little girl shouted. “You’re doing it right now!”
He snapped out of it. “Ladies shouldn’t raise their voices,” he scolded.
The princess puckered her lips. “Sorry.” She watched his solemn face. “But you really do love him, oppa. It’s obvious that you care about him a lot. Like, a whooole lot.”
Kim Namjoon stayed silent.
“I know you’re very worried about the war, especially because of him.”
His expression darkened, which she noticed. She was an observant little girl.
“I heard Father say that the peace treaty’s negotiations are going well,” she declared in a small voice.
He turned to her, and, seeing her nervous eyes, he smiled slightly. “Indeed… I’m sure they’ll all be back soon.”
“Then, will you marry Jin-oppa?” she inquired, falling back into cheerfulness.
He chuckled, deciding to play along with her. “I suppose I’ll have to discuss it with him as soon as he gets home. I’m sure he’ll want you to be the flower girl!”
She jumped up, and hugged him, giggling. He joined her laughter, spinning her light body around in circles. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy.
They fell the to ground, dizzy, their shoulders shaking as they laughed.
She turned to her brother. “I can’t wait for him to be back.”
“Me neither,” he said quietly.
She straightening up. “Could you tell me about him again?”
“Kim Seokjin,” he said slowly, tasting the words. “We were always together, when our schedules permitted it. It became harder as my responsibilities began to pill up, and his military training became fiercer… But we always found time for one another.”
She nodded with all the seriousness in the world. The prince let out a chuckle at the sight of her expression.
“He’s been my friend for so long,” he continued. “That idiot annoys me so much, sometimes.” He smiled, immerged in the warmth of his memories of Kim Seokjin. “He can be cocky, and his jokes are atrocious. Oh, and he has a thing for acting cute? It kind of scares me.”
The princess’ chin was in her hand, as she listened to her brother, fascinated.
“He has a good heart, though. Overall, he’s a great person,” he paused, struggling to find a way to express the intensity of his emotions. “Seokjin’s presence is like a fuming cup of tea during winter. It’s heartwarming.”
His eyes moved to the painting again.
“He’s ridiculously hardworking and dedicated too,” he added slowly. “I’ve always thought it was strange how someone so carefree could be that invested in their career. He wasn’t meant to be a soldier, you know? You see him now, as a lieutenant, and you’d think he always knew how to fight… But that’s not how things went. He struggled, failed, and got hurt often. It was painful to watch,” the prince said, wincing slightly. “I tried to make him quit numerous times… He never did. He’s too stubborn for his own good, that kid.”
Namjoon looked down at his sister.
“You’re like that too,” he said, touching her nose. “Do you know that, little monster?”
She answered with a grimace. His eyes turned into crescent moons.
“Anyways, Seokjin… He’s just – he’s always been there for me. Through all the hardships. Through all the joys.”
The princess was smiling. “You’re made for each other, oppa,” she assured.
They fell silent for a minute, both lost in thoughts.
“Why don’t you call him Jin?” she asked suddenly, her head tilted.
He was destabilized. “What do you mean?”
“Jin-oppa. All his friend call him Jin, right? I’ve heard other soldiers using that nickname… Since you’re his closest friend, why don’t you call him Jin too?”
“I guess it has never occurred to me to call him like that.”
“If you’re going to get married, I think you should start doing so, oppa,” she counselled, her chin up.
Her confident tone made him grin. “Jin,” he tried. “Jin…”
“It sounds good!” she encouraged. “Jin and Namjoon.”
He let his mind drift away to the vision of a happy future. Of course, it involved Kim Seokjin.
“You’re right, princess,” he said softly. “It does sound good.”
Hey there, reader ^u^ I hope you like this so far! Ahhh I’m really attached to these characters... Will that prevent me from giving them a tragic ending? Found out in next week’s episode! *evil laugh*
(really though, here’s the finale)
#namjin#prince au#royal au#kim namjoon#rap monster#rapmon#kim seokjin#bts jin#bts fanfic#bts reactions#bts ships#bangtan#ot7#kpop fluff#kpop angst#dokiginal work
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Space Grumps inspired fic
Yeah. I’m trash. And I’m obsessed with @dannyaviclan damn Space Grumps au right now. Seriously man, you all should go read it!! It’s stupid good :D SO anyhow, here’s a fic I wrote from it. Sorry if anything is odd or not right with the au. I tried to keep it all in line, but of course we all have different views on ideas so. Here’s mine :)
So without further adieu, here we go! Yeh.
Brian had really fucked him over this time.
Dan used a hand to shield against one of the blinding suns of this planet, squinting to battle the other. From what he could make out, desert went on for miles, stretching as far as the eye can see. Dan kicked at the red dust below his feet, not at all satisfied as it spun up into the air, lazily drifting back down into the dry soil.
To be perfectly honest, Dan wasn’t even sure what had happened.
One moment he and Brian were laughing at something fucking stupid, couldn’t even recall what it was at this point, the next Brian was silent, pulling out a red gem and shoving it into Dan’s hands, a wild look in his eyes. Through their telepathic link he had said, “Don’t let anyone catch you with this. I’ll be back soon.” Before forcefully shoving Dan into the transporter.
Said transporter wasn’t really meant for transporting live organisms any greater size than a goat…. Though Dan supposed, there probably weren’t goats in the future. At least not the ones he was used to seeing.
So after e had rematerialised on the odd planet's surface, jewel in hand, Dan had spent the next hour shouting at the sky for Brian to come back. After receiving no answer, Dan put away the gem in one of his many pockets and decided to walk. Eventually he’ll find civilization, right? Brian wouldn’t just abandon him for no reason, and on a deserted planet no less. He knew that because of Dan’s situation, he’d be the last person you’d want to leave alone on an alien planet and no way of contacting the one person he’d trusted since coming to the future.
There was no telling really with how long he walked. It could’ve been hours, it could’ve been days, he had no idea how the time cycle worked here after all. But what he did know was his throat burned from lack of supplement and his stomach growled in anger. Also Dan hadn’t managed to see one single being, human or otherwise, since he’d arrived here. He was pretty sure he was going to die.
At least that was until Dan saw a large and intimidating ship fly overhead, before touching the planet's surface not a few yards away, the force from the jet engines nearly knocking Dan over as the wind kicked up sand in his hair and eyes. Dan had to look away just so he could not breath the stuff in.
From what he could see, three men came off the ship, discussing something intensely before looking in Dan’s direction. Brian’s words of caution rang in his mind.
“Don’t let anyone catch you with this.”
So Dan ran. And he was pretty sure the creatures ran too upon noticing Dan’s hasty escape.
Already out of breath, Dan tried to formulate a plan. On one hand he could just toss the damn jewel at them. They had to be after that, right? Or maybe they just happened to see this random fucking person wandering an empty planet and thought ‘hey let’s scare the shit out of him’. Then Dan up and runs, making them suspicious.
He shook his head. No. Something in his gut told him this had to do with the jewel that was put into his possession.
ANd that’s when he saw it. A town. A real fucking town. Unless of course his mind was playing tricks, but Dan really hoped not, for he could hear the cascade of boots drawing closer. If he was slowing down or they were speeding up, he did not know.
And finally, just as a skyline of buildings were being materialised in a much more reachable distance. Dan could just make out a- hover bike?- As something caught on Dan’s foot, making him fall to the ground harshly, red sand going up his orifices and causing Dan to freeze up with a violent cough, giving his pursuers the time they needed to catch up to him.
Glancing down at what he had hit, Dan gasped at what looked like a… wooden post? One that had obviously been cut down though. He didn’t have time to ponder the odd placement of it though as he was being kicked over to lay on his back, three disgusting beings hovering over him, greed and hunger in their beady eyes.
Dan had to fight the urge to gag at the disgusting smell the men were radiating. ‘Where they even men, though?’ Dan thought to himself. They could just as easily be women, what with the black/grey wrinkled skin, and hunched over backs, and three arms, all wielding claws and what Dan could only assume to be a gun. More than anything, Dan wished Brian was here. If not to save him, to at least identify what kind of beasts these were so Dan would at least have something to go on.
They all clacked in unison, pincers hidden by black lips, clicking and hissing into what Dan could only assume to be words. He looked confused between the three, trying to convey his issue with their language without coming across as rude.
Then one pressed what appeared to be a pen against his neck, Dan flinching from it but as a grotesque hand held him against it, there wasn’t much Dan could do.
A sharp pain shot into his neck up to his head, but he wasn’t focused on that. His attention was solely on the fact that suddenly, he could understand them. It wasn’t a very comforting conversation though.
“-kill him already! We know he has the gem!”
“Oh shut up already, I shot the injection, he can hear you now!”
One of them did what Dan thought to be a scowl, glaring down at the human laying before them. “Uhh… yeah. Hello. What exactly did you do to me?” Dan asked, uneasily, waving a hand but instantly dropping it at the death glare he received.
One spit on Dan’s leg, where it sizzled slightly, not exactly burning, but not very pleasant either.
“Shut up, human, we know you have it!”
Feigning ignorance, Dan was suddenly sure the jewel was what they were after. “What!?” He exclaimed, trying to subtly crawl backwards, but they saw right through him and immediately shot at the ground behind him, causing Dan to freeze in place.
“Don’t play coy, boy. Just hand over the jewel, and we won’t hurt you.”
Dan remained silent, eyes frantically looking for an escape. He thought he’d seen some dust swirl oddly, as if around a human form, but he didn’t think too much on it as suddenly a gun was being pointed between his eyes, a sickening grin behind it on the wielder.
“Hmph, very well. We’ll just have to pry it from your cold, dead hands!”
Though the line was an obvious cliche, Dan felt true fear spike through his chest, his eyes squeezing shut tightly, body tense and trembling. WHy the fuck did Brian give him this stupid thing? Why did he just drop him off on some unknown planet, no help, no life, just danger and soon death. Were these people chasing Brian? Was Dan some form of distraction? Was that all he was to Brian? Dan didn’t want to make assumptions on his best friend, but what else could he gather from this? Sure he could just hand over the gem and run, but Dan was almost certain they’d shoot him regardless, no point in dying a coward. Dan cringed at himself as tears arose. But who could blame him, wanting to cry in his final moments.
Suddenly three shots rang out in the dry, empty desert, making Dan jump and whimper at the loud noise.
But no pain came. Only the sound of bodies dropping, something wet dashing his cheek, as a shadow passed over his closed eyelids. With great hesitance, Dan slowly opened one eye, afraid to see what else was about to befall him, but instead of the three disgusting aliens, he was met with a cocky grin full of sharp teeth, and a dull pink uniform, dotted slightly with blood.
The man put a hand on his hip, gun in the air, smoke still rising from the warm barrel. “What’s a human like yourself doing in a place like this, hm?”
Dan gasped at the tail that swished back and forth behind the man, glancing up nervously at those sharpened teeth and reptilian like pupils,but… this guy did technically, just save Dan. And for that he was grateful, if not confused. He looked back at the bodies, stomach seizing slightly. Blood and death tended to make him queasy. “Are you going to try and kill me too?” Dan asked dully. Brian had left him here to die after all.
The creature’s eyes widened slightly, gun hand falling as he shifted his stance, from cocky to surprised and then finally guilt. “Wha- no! I just- ugh sorry. I was trying to look cool.”
A gloved hand was extended in Dan’s direction, that ferocious smile turning somewhat more friendlier and closed lipped. “I’m Captain Arin Hanson. I pilot the star craft, Starbomb. But you can just call me Arin, okay? And you are?”
Dan eyed the suspiciously sharp looking glove, but… this was the future. And space. Maybe it was normal to have sharp teeth and a tail on some planets?
Reluctantly, Dan took the hand, gasping slightly when he was easily pulled up. “I uh. Hi. I’m Dan. Avidan. People usually call me Danny. I uh I don’t pilot anything,” he said with a slight chuckle, feeling the gem’s weight lessen slightly as he felt he was no longer being hunted for it. A smirk appeared on his lips though and suddenly he couldn’t help himself. “I help navigate on the Starship Enterprise.”
Arin’s grin twisted up into a grin of amusement, arms crossing after replacing his weapon. “I watch star trek, man. Try again.”
“They have Star Trek in the future!?” Dan exclaimed without thinking. Then followed by a wince. He cleared his throat, trying to cover up what he had unknowingly revealed. “Uhh. Sorry. My uhh, my ship flew off. Without me,” Dan said nervously, kicking at the dust and looking away. He wasn’t sure what to reveal and what not to reveal. It didn’t seem like this guy was after the gem, but Brian had said- You know what. No! Fuck Brian! Dan crossed his arms in a huff, suddenly not really caring what Brian had warned him. He’d left him on a new planet, knowing that Dan didn’t know jack shit about space other than the few things he’d bothered to explain to him since bringing him here. “My prick of a best friend handed me some stupid fucking gem and left me here, saying he’d ‘be back soon’. Whatever the fuck that could mean.”
A laugh truly like no other, Arin clapped Dan on the shoulder, making the thinner man jump slightly. “Damn, that sucks hella balls. Mind if I see that gem for a second though?” Dan eyed the- Dinosaur! That’s it. He looks like a Dinosaur/human/Lizard thing- warily, not sure if he should.
“Dude, come on, look. I’ll even let you hold my gun, okay?”
At the offer, Dan agreed, though only pulling out the gem after he held possession of the gun. Little did he know, Arin could easily take him down before Dan even raised his arm to aim.
Tossing the gem over in gloved hands, Arin looked at Dan in confusion. “Uhh, Dan? You know this jewel is fake, right?”
“What!?” Dan put the gun back in Arin’s holster, the sudden contact making Arin jump slightly, giving Dan the chance to snatch the gem back, examining it in the light. “How can you tell!”
With a pointed finger, Arin pointed to a scratch on the side, a wry grin in place. “See that right there? A real gem wouldn’t scratch like that. That and… well I can smell the chemicals that went into faking it.”
“Sonofabitch!” Dan threw the thing on the ground in a rare spark of anger, stress and fear and betrayal coursing through him. Arin placed a hand on Dan’s shoulders, seeing the human deflate suddenly, never one to really hold onto anger for very long. “Now what am I gonna do…?” Dan asked sadly. He surely couldn’t just wait here until Brian returns. Who knew when that would be. And besides, he didn’t have any money. Already his throat and stomach were assaulting him from all directions, begging for nourishment.
As if on cue, Dan’s stomach gave a loud noise, Dan groaning and covering it in shame.
Biting his lip, as if in thought, Arin opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by a blue beeping on a device that greatly resembled an old flip phone in Dan’s opinion. With an irritated sigh, Arin pulled up the device, flipping it open, wondering in quiet amusement, just what was so shocking about the blue hologram of his ship’s AI that caused the man to gasp and stare disbelievingly.
“Captain,” the hologram said, a smile in place. “All supplements have been procured on The Starbomb. All crew members have returned without fail. We await your arrival to take off.”
Glancing between the AI and the human before him, eyes still widened comically in wonder, hands held over a hungry belly.
“Hey Dan?”
Dan looked up at his savior in confusion, one scarred eyebrow raised. “Yeah, Arin?”
“How would you feel about joining my crew while in search of your friend? We’ll provide you with free food and shelter so long as you’re with us.”
Dan’s face went through an array of emotions, until settling on gratitude, a smile widening on his face. “You had me at free food, honestly.”
Arin laughed, clasping Dan’s hand and nodding down at Barry once more. “Barry! You heard the man, make preparations for one more Bomber to join our recruits! And Dan, I must say. Welcome aboard the Starbomb. Glad to have you on hand.”
#space grumps au#space grumps#my fic#I hope you guys like this?#I know it's not like the best but I really enjoyed it#Btw I love Brian#I think he had his reasons#but that's up to interpertations#me#Danny sexbang#Dan avidan#Arin Hanson#Egoraptor#slight#egobang#if you squint#because I'm trash#this is way too many tags#fanfiction#polygrumps#shipgrumps#space!Dan#Space Danny sexbang#Literally all I care about
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It was Her.
This is just another roleplay post of my OCs. Again, this features Lance. It is the present time/age him instead of a flashback. Enjoy if you care~ OwO
~~~
Lance The King snorted at the events or Arnold and the girl. He clapped his hands his the excitement, "Well!" He said aloud. Lance averted his attention back to the King, "I will speak with Sir Endroc on the manner and from there we will speak with Princess Yumi on the matter of who will obtain custody of the wyverns."
Queen Katherine rolled her eyes, "You are dismissed. I must talk with my husband in private." She grumbled as she shooed them out.
Lance peered down the hallway where Naomi and Arnold disappeared to. He glanced down at Clink with a frustrated sigh, "You can't go into the shadows." He repeated as a reminder to himself. He began down the path, hoping that he would bump into them. 'I don't know her scent anyway.' Lance thought to himself. It was simple to find Yumi's shadow. It knew exactly how to track her. He was able to find the Kings too when he was alive, but finding shadows of others unfamiliar to him was difficult and sometimes nearly impossible without a scent. These abilities could only be performed in his shade state. Lance looked at Clink again, which he was not able to do.
Lance curiously continued to follow. He could only rely on hearing Arnold's overbearing voice somewhere near. He had to get back to Yumi soon. He became a little anxious to confirm his suspicions. Arnold called her Naomi also, he had to have been right. Was it the same Naomi? She looked much older now, though some things never changed. Her hair was still the same auburn color, though her curls seemed to have loosened into gentle waves through the years. The glimpse of her eyes back in the room still looked like the same green as they were before and the pattern of her freckles under her cheeks didn't seem to have changed.
"She wouldn't listen to me." The girl's voice whined out.
"All you had to do was escort her home. Did you tell her the castle was no longer deemed safe for visitors?" Arnold demanded.
Lance walked closer and within earshot to listen to their conversation.
"Well yes," Naomi muttered.
Arnold growled, "Not well yes, Naomi! Yes or no?" "I told her the castle was no longer safe, yes. But I also may have mentioned that we are harboring two wyverns-"
"You what?!" Arnold interrupted in sheer anger.
Naomi cringed, "I said it was hurt and wouldn't be able to attack anyone. She said she needed to use the washroom and when I went to check in on her and she was gone."
"You lost Lady Beatrice?!" Anger flowed with Arnold's blood. He threw up his hand and got ready to swing.
Lance rushed himself in front of the blow, blocking the hit with his arm. Arnold quickly yanked his hand back and held it close to him,
"What the hell!" Arnold groaned.
Lance looked back at Naomi who stood still behind him. He looked back to Arnold, "My bad." Lance spoke unapologetically.
Arnold clutched his other hand in a fist, "Sir Lance, for the sake of all that is holy, remove yourself from this situation before I knock you back to Mythicana." It was clear to Lance that he had lost his patience with the visiting kingdom awhile ago.
"How I choose to punish my Knights are none of your concern."
Lance seemed to have blatantly ignored Arnold. Instead, Lance's attention was fixed on Clink. He caught the last bit of Arnold's word, "Knight or not, Sir Arnold, a lady should be respected." He glanced back. Naomi still seemed to be peering up at him with a doe-eyed gaze.
"Not when she can't do her job," Arnold glared past Lance and at Naomi, "I warned you, Naomi. The next time you messed up would be your last!" Arnold began to walk away after realizing that Naomi had not been listening, "Find her or else!" Arnold yelled out. Lance figured he didn't have much more to say.
Lance felt a jolt from behind him that caused him to be unsteady, "Uh." Lance scowled as he regained his footing. He glanced down to see arms attempting to wrap around him, but both of their bulky armor made it difficult.
"I knew it!" Naomi squealed, "It was you!"
Lance removed her arms from his waist, "Watch it." He adjusted Clink. He turned to face her. Her eyes were fixated on him with a ridiculous smile,
"I passed the room and I saw you! I told myself it was you and it was!" Naomi rambled, "I didn't think Id ever see you again but now that I have, I have so much to tell you!"
Lance scanned her. 'I knew it.' He thought to himself. He turned around and began walking back to the wyverns room.
"W-wait!" Naomi stumbled over her armor, "Where are you going?"
Lance looked back over his shoulder, "I have to return to my duties. I only wanted to confirm you were who I thought and now that I have, I must head back."
Naomi scowled, "You're so formal." She pouted, "Are you not curious?" She said referring back to her armor.
Lance faced her. He was a little curious how a girl like her obtained the title of a knight. It was far too unusual for an Aelian woman to join their army. He stayed as she walked closer, "I suppose."
"It was because of you!" She grinned wide with the same smile that made it hard to take her seriously. Lance furrowed his brows,
"Me?"
"Yes!" Naomi shuffled her feet, "When you saved me in the forest-"
"Saved is an overstatement." Lance looked away from her. He didn't really remember that day. He could remember arguing with Endroc before taking a walk then finding a girl dressed in rags crying in the forest. He gave her some food and sent her off on one of Mythicana's palace horses. From there his memory was vague.
"Nevertheless, you did. If it wasn't for your kindness I probably would have ended up in Mythicana's prison. For all I know, I could have been Princess Yumi's slave!" Naomi shuddered. Lance snorted. He was thinking of telling her that wasn't how Mythicana worked, but he would let her imagination run wild for the time being.
"I came right home and I told my father that I wished to become a knight. You see, I wanted to be just like you! I wanted to be kind and humble. I wanted to save others while encouraging them to be what they want to be." Naomi spoke with passion, "It took a lot and I got picked on often. I was told a woman couldn't be a knight and I almost gave up. But every time I thought about it, I remembered the boy who sacrificed losing his title to help a scared little Aelian girl." Lance smirked. He didn't remember everything, but he knew her young mind must've recalled the day differently. He had been carrying extra food in his knapsack that he planned on throwing out for the dogs. The horses weren't hard to sneak off since their primary mode of transportation was dragons or griffins. Did she see him as a sort of hero?
Her cheeks were a rosy red, "As you might have seen, I'm still new."
Lance nodded, "It is a lot of responsibility."
"It sure is!" Naomi giggled. She perked up, "I have an idea!" Her squeak caused Lance's brow to raise, "You can help me find Lady Beatrice!"
Lance shook his head, "I'm afraid not. I told you I must get back." He started towards the direction of the room. Naomi's armor clinked against one piece and another to catch up to him,
"Where are you headed?"
Lance continued, "The room where the wyvern lays. The Princess is waiting,"
"Perfect!" Naomi skipped alongside him, "I think Lady Beatrice might be there!" She interrupted him before all his words registered in her mind, "Princess Yumi? She isn't with the wyvern." Lance paused and immediately caused Naomi to trip over herself,
"What do you mean she isn't with the wyvern?" His voice shook as he demanded an answer.
Naomi tilted her head, "Sir Kotano of Mythicana took Prince Alaric and Princess Yumi out to spend more time together. I was supposed to be in charge of keeping Prince Alaric and Lady Beatrice separated."
"Damn you Endroc!" Lance held Clink tight as he began running down the halls, "You’ll pay for this, Bastard!"
~~~
I’m still not sure how much I’ll post. I enjoy Lance’s character and arc a lot. I’m happy to put these major events up for everyone. I’ll make note to give a thorough character description for him or anyone who plays an important role.
Thanks for reading :3
<3 Piyoko
#roleplay#OC#oc rp#Lance#naomi#nance?#shipping#oc rp blog#blog#blogger#my rants#rants#long reads#reading#original character#my characters#piyoko
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Were You Raised to Be Afraid?
“I was raised to believe that being frightened meant being alive. Timeo, ergo sum. That being scared is not a frailty but a skill. That I displayed intelligence by shunning whatever displayed itself as welcoming or wild. That the scariest time-bomb in the world was me.”
Some of us were raised to seek out scary things.
Not in a fun way. Not like skydiving or watching horror films.
Some of us were taught to expect and detect threats in every circumstance. Anticipating every buffet, ballgame and block party, every crosswalk, cough and conversation—we were taught to wonder: What could possibly go wrong?
Oh, this. Or this.
What in this tennis court or classroom could assault, infect, humiliate, or hurt me? Where in this palace or park awaits the as-yet-unseen splinter, strangler, quicksand, cliff? Where in this sweet hello hides the veiled insult or encoded curse?
Can I be saved?
We were taught that only one certainty exists: Danger looms everywhere like drums and fish in “Find the Hidden Picture” games.
We were raised to believe that fear is the only real feeling, the only one we must trust. We were told: Other feelings are either unfounded fantasy or clever cons, like vivid feathered fishing-lures attracting trout: “Fun” and “desire” are false fronts drawing us ever closer to certain doom.
We were told twenty million times: Trust your terrified gut. Let panic be your pilot. Listen when it whispers WORRY, FREEZE. FAWN. FLEE. Obey its command: CRY.
We were told: Yes, it hurts. … but fear just wants to help you. Fear is your best friend. You say your best friend is Amanda Brown? I bet she badmouths you behind your back. I bet she calls you fat.
Fear never lies. Exaggerates sometimes, but hey. How else to get its point across?
I was raised to believe that being frightened meant being alive. Timeo, ergo sum. That being scared is not a frailty but a skill. That I displayed intelligence by shunning whatever displayed itself as welcoming or wild. That the scariest time-bomb in the world was me.
The multiphasic process of seeking, detecting, fearing, then racing to escape real or perceived danger grows reflexive over time, creating in our brains a certain neurocircuitry unlike those in the brains of normal folks: a default warning blast and screaming siren we cannot turn off.
Just as wine-tasters have sensitive tongues, we who were raised to be afraid might have hyperdeveloped, hyperactive danger-signaling/emotion-processing amygdala—those tiny neural clusters deep in our temporal lobes which refuse, in our cases, to be soothed.
Studies suggest that trauma wields biochemical changes. In his book The Body Keeps the Score, PTSD specialist Bessel Van Der Kolk describes the brains of combat veterans as “rewired to be alert for emergencies, at the expense of being focused on the small details of everyday life.” The forced anxiety of our childhoods was one nonstop electric cord of traumas. Prepping constantly for traumas is traumatic.
Who or what would make us thus? What better way to wreck the lives of children than to ready them, body and soul, neither for joy nor spontaneity but only pain, panic, and flight? What kind of parent would leap out at us every five minutes shouting Boo, believing this would make us strong, safe, smart? What kind of parent would want fear to feel as intrinsic to us as bones?
Here’s who: Those who grew up afraid. Those who, as children, knew about starvation, crippling illness, bitter cold and being beaten in the street.
So who could blame those who, as children, wandered snow-slick cities stalked by strangers while their parents worked from dawn to dusk, mourning their missing—surely slaughtered—kin?
Who could blame our parents for fearing parenthood? Who could blame them for thinking, saddled with a sudden child almost against their will, that love was best expressed with warnings and alarms? That they must murmur never, “All is well” but “Cars are two-ton death machines” and “Toast is fattening” instead?
Who could blame scared parents for scaring us? For never staging auto-interventions into their own fear to stop it spreading down the family tree? Who could blame them for teaching us to cower and cringe as other kids learned to skate and sing?
Well, we could blame them. Which might solve some of our mysteries, such as Why Have I No Hobbies? and Why Am I Awake at 4 a.m.?
But beyond blame, what strategies have we? Van Der Kolk asserts that yoga and meditation can help fearful individuals like ourselves “regulate the core arousal system in the brain and feel safe” in our bodies. Can we find hope where spirituality meets biochemistry?
We are not seven billion, but we are enough to tell each other, starting right here: You are not alone.
This post courtesy of Spirituality & Health.
Were You Raised to Be Afraid? syndicated from
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