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darknight3904 · 6 months

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See You in the Morning, Coryo

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪:ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ' ᴀʀɢᴜᴍᴇɴᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴄʟɪᴍᴀx ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ / ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴅᴀʀᴋᴇʀ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ. ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ ᴄʜᴀɪɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴜᴘ. ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴ ᴀ ꜱᴇxʏ ᴡᴀʏ, ꜱᴀᴅʟʏ.

The first time you met him you were 12. It was only your fourth day at the Capitol's Academy and you wished you could go home and bury yourself in your bed and never return. You had yet to meet anyone interested in being friends with you, the homeschooled freak who started oh so late compared to her peers. Sure, you had met Arachne and Festus at big lavish parties your parents threw but that didn't mean they liked you.

And then, on your fourth day of school, everything changes. Big blue eyes are fixated on the overly large sandwich and fruit bowl that had been in your lunch bag. A soft gurgle of a hungry stomach fills your ears and you turn to see a boy with the prettiest blonde curls atop his head staring at you.

"Do you want a piece? Our maid always packs too much and I can never finish it. You can have some if you want." You ask, picking up a strawberry and holding it out to him.

He hesitates for a moment but eventually reaches out and takes a small bite.

"Don't you have a lunch today?" You ask

"I already ate it." He said

Something inside you said he was lying and so you offered the rest of the fruit to him. Your sandwich would be enough for today, after all, no one should go hungry if another had something else to give.

You chat with the boy with blue eyes and pretty blonde curls. His name is Coriolanus Snow and he lives with his Grandma'am and his cousin. You smile at him as he eats the fruit, savoring the taste of the grapes that were mixed in. As you sit beside your new friend, you smile to yourself and hope he'll be your friend tomorrow too.

"You're not leaving. I won't let you."

Coriolanus knows how bad it sounds. He knows you're angry when you go to step around him and he blocks your path. Your engagement ring feels like a brick as it sits in his shirt pocket.

"Coryo. Move. I'm going home." You say, determined to get away from him.

Where do you think you're running off to? You have no place in society besides your spot next to him.

"You can't. You have to stay here. With me." He insists, hoping his softer tone will change your silly little mind.

"Please, Coriolanus. Just let me go home for tonight. I'll come back tomorrow. I promise." You whisper.

He hates that. Coriolanus. Why are you calling him that? He's always been Coryo to you why are you changing it now? The way his full name lingers in the air makes his blood boil.

Rage is something that's hard to control. Coriolanus has seen it first hand when the Districts rebelled against the Capitol all those years ago. He saw it Dr. Gaul when Lucy Gray survived her snakes thanks to him. He sees it now, in you as you give him a hard shove to his shoulders and begin moving toward the door.

Rage. That's why he does it. It's something he and so many others can't control. Rage. What a funny concept it is, how it causes someone to think so irrationally.

Truly though, you are to blame for it all. If only you had just talked to him rationally. taking off your ring and throwing a fit, demanding to go home like you're some petulant child who needs a nap.

Perhaps this will change your attitude, after all, you couldn't just run off, he needed you.

There's an ache in the back of your skull when you finally open your eyes. A soft blanket is covering you and the soft scent of apples and cinnamon is wafting through the air.

"This is your favorite, right?"

A voice that used to bring a smile to your face now sends a jolt of fear down your spine as you quickly sit up.

Coriolanus is sitting in a plush-looking chair, with your favorite candle burning on a little side table next to him.

What the hell had he done to you?

"You sat up too quickly. There's some painkillers on the nightstand if you want them." He says

His voice is so calm as you gradually take in your new surroundings.

"Where am I?" You croak, your voice sounds terrible.

"You're still in our mansion. This is the basement. Part of it anyway. Over the past two weeks, I got them to transform a section of it into a room perfect for you." He says, closing the book in his lap.

Weeks? How long had it been since that dinner when you tried to leave? What the hell had even happened? The last thing you clearly remember was shoving Coriolanus and beginning to walk away. Had he hit you with something? But then how did he keep you down for two weeks so he could bring you here?

"You're wondering what happened. I'm not proud of it but I hit you with a serving tray before you could leave."

Your mind briefly conjures up the silver trays that the food you often enjoyed was served on.

"I had a doctor give you injections to keep you asleep until this room was ready. The headache you feel is the hangover from the drugs, not a concussion. I made sure he gave you an exam and he's cleared you from any injuries."

Corionus' explanation is making your brain ache. What the fuck was happening? Why are you in a basement bedroom instead of your normal one? When was he going to let you out? Would he ever let you out?

Your stomach gurgles and you just barely make it to the small garbage can that's sitting on the ground next to the bed.

"Ah, the doctor said vomiting was another side effect. I'm sure it will pass soon." Coriolanus says, unbothered as you heave up whatever gunk he had gotten the doctor to pump into your stomach.

You wipe your face with the back of your hand, wishing for something to take away the burning at the back of your throat.

"Alright. Since you're awake now, I'll be leaving. Lots of meetings today and the arena is nearly ready I just have to approve a few more things." Coriolanus says, standing up and fixing his tie as he begins to walk away.

"Wait." You groan, trying to reach out to him

"I'll be back for dinner. I know how much you love to listen to me talk about my day."

Two months later

There's been a certain warmness about you recently. Perhaps it's the flowers he brought you your maybe the fact that he takes the heavy chain off your ankle when he visits you. He decides it's the latter as he watches thumb through the new books he handed you.

"Do you like them?" He asks

"Yes." You smile as you gently place them on your shelf.

You're so effortlessly pretty, even here, locked away from the sunlight and every inch of society. Here, you're all his, every bit of you hinges on him opening the heavy metal door that keeps you here. It's been so long since you had even tried to argue or fight back against him. Sure, the beginning had been rough, you had thrown things at him and had at one point threatened him with a butter knife but now you we so docile. Almost like he had domesticated a wild animal and now it was trained perfectly.

"Could you bring the little cakes tonight?" You ask

"The ones with the powdered sugar on top?"

You nod as you sit on your bed, stretching out your right ankle which is marked with a heavy bruise from the chain he had to put on you. It wasn't what he wanted but after you tried attacking him when he entered the room on the second day of your enclosure, he knew it was a necessity.

"I'll have the chef make extra. We can eat as many as you like and get fat." He teases

You smile at him but he can see something else behind your eyes.

Sadness.

You remind him of a bird with clipped wings. Freedom so effortlessly in reach but unable to fly to reach it.

If only he could trust you enough to let you back into the main floors of the mansion.

Time passes slowly whenever Coriolanus is gone and it gives you time to think. You were going mad, chained up all day, waiting for him to bring you your meals and sit with you at night. So in an effort to chase your impending insanity away, you thought. You thought about your childhood and if things would be different had you never given Coriolanus that stupid bowl of fruit. Perhaps you'd be head of your father's company now, or maybe you'd be married to some elite capitol man.

Your mind was always racing, overanalyzing every little thing and every little mistake you had ever made.

Perhaps you should've never confronted him about those pictures. If you had just slipped out of the mansion one day what would had happened? Maybe he would've caught you or perhaps you would've made it back to your parents, back to your old life and self.

How naive you had been at that gala years ago, thinking that you didn't need anything but Coriolanus. What a stupid girl you had grown up to be.

The past few weeks had been rough. You had been sucking up to Coriolanus to be let back into the main part of the mansion. You claimed to just want to feel sunlight again. Of course, you also planned on running the moment you had an opening but he didn't need to know that half.

Coriolanus was simply insane, it was a conclusion you had come to after all these long days. Maybe he had always been like this but you were just too blind to see it. Maybe his nice gestures and honey-coated words had disguised the monster that lurked behind those eyes. All you knew was that he was the worst man in all of Panem and here you sat, suffering all because you were his favorite.

"My heart burns for you."

What a load of bullshit.

He stays true to his word and arrives that night for dinner, cakes in hand. Silenced Avoxes serve you your food and Coriolanus sits across from you at the table that had mysteriously appeared one night when you were asleep. The chain on your ankle made an unpleasant sound as you shifted in your seat.

"The salmon is nice, isn't it?" Coriolanus asks as he eats

"Yes, it's wonderful. Very buttery." You say, struggling to find exactly what was good about it.

You didn't want salmon, you didn't really want anything anymore, perhaps you were finally giving into whatever game he was playing by keeping you here.

"I've decided to replace the curtains throughout the mansion. I've found the blue to be a bit ugly. Tomorrow there will be beautiful maroon ones hung." He informs you

You had hand-picked the blue ones, years ago.

"I'm sure they will be beautiful." You say looking down at your lap.

Coriolanus stops chewing and sets his silverware down.

"If you're going to mock me, you shouldn't even open your mouth. You know I hate it when you're full of attitude so why do you still try?" He says

It's a warning. You know it, he knows it.

"I know. I was being serious." You say, "I hope I get to see the maroon curtains soon, Coriolanus."

"Coryo." He corrects, placing a bite of food in his mouth

"Coryo." You parrot.

He smiles, pleased with you.

"You will, soon."

Dinner passes slowly as you finish your salmon to the tune of Coriolanus' talking. Something about the latest games being a wonderful success and that the big finale would be either tomorrow or the next. He suggests you watch on the little TV that sits in the corner, untouched, it was something that was added a week ago, specifically so you could watch the games. You promise to watch and he smiles at you again.

Coriolanus bids you goodnight after dessert. He double-checks your chain before straightening up and gently kissing your forehead.

"Goodnight, darling. I'll see you in the morning."

"See you in the morning, Coryo."

The past week had been going nearly perfectly for Coriolanus. Not only had the games been perfect, but you had been impressing him. Sure, a few days ago at dinner you had called him Coriolanus and he nearly lost his cool after he thought you insulted the curtains but that was behind him now.

He had finally concluded that he'd release you from the basement. He missed your presence in the mansion and at the normal dinner table. He wasn't quite sure about letting you have full roam yet, perhaps he'd sedate you during the days and let you walk around at night, when he could personally keep an eye on you before bedtime. The idea of one of the Axoxes watching you didn't sit right, after all, if you ran what would they do? They couldn't even shout for help to bring you back inside.

He was positively giddy as he walked down the many flights of steps that led to where you were. He wanted to show you the greenhouse first. Sure, you had seen it before but the way the roses were blooming recently was simply too good to pass up. He had planted new ones recently too, blushing pink ones that reminded him of you and your warmness to him.

The metal door was cool against his palm as he opened it to reveal your darkened room. The door let out a heavy groan as it shut behind him.

It wasn't uncommon for you to be sleeping when he entered, he often visited during the night and would watch you, as if you were going to disappear. However, this time the darkness confused him. It was the middle of the day, surely you weren't still asleep?

The soft clink of that ridiculous chain filled his ears as he stepped towards the lamp that sat on your shelf.

"Are you hiding from me, darling?" He asked into the darkness, ready to scoop you up and hold you close.

Silence answered his question as his eyes tried to focus on anything.

The softest rustle of fabric fills his ears as he quickly turns to his right. The slightest shimmer of color reaches his eyes, illuminated by what little light wormed its way under the door. It's you, in that sweater you often wore.

"I see you." He says reaching out to what he thinks might be your arm. "What a pretty shade of blue that is. I'll have a designer make a dress in that color for you."

He swears he hears you whisper his name but perhaps it was just in his head as he steps forward.

Coriolanus feels the smile that was on his face drop into his stomach when he hears it again, the rustle of fabric. You were behind him now.

His hands twitch one, then twice, and before he can react, you're there, in front of him again, anger polluting your pretty face.

His lips form your name but it never leaves his mouth. Instead, the cool metal of that chain he had intended on removing was cutting his vocal cords off.

The chain he hated putting on you, the chain you had desperately tried to claw off many times as he watched through a grainy video feed was rapidly wrapping its way around his neck, ready to destroy him.

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pedroscurls · 3 months

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second chances | pt. 4

Character(s): Marcus Pike x fem!Reader Summary: You and Marcus go to IKEA and confessions are made. Word count: 3.1k A/N: Shout out to the anon who gave me the idea about those plushies! I hope you all enjoyed this part. I know it's a slow burn, but the wait will be worth it! I promise🫶 Warning: None. SERIES MASTERLIST - ultimate masterlist

“Good night, angel.”

You couldn’t get it out of your head. Couldn’t get Marcus out of your head. Couldn’t get the feeling of having his arms around you out of your head. You try to sleep, try to get some rest, but you’re lying in your bed, staring up at your ceiling with thoughts of him. Finding someone you were interested in wasn’t ever part of your plan once you moved to DC. You had put all your focus into your new job that you didn’t anticipate him, didn’t expect someone to occupy your thoughts most of the time.

You hear your phone vibrate, pulling you out of your thoughts but when you see his name on the screen, your heart flutters. It’s surprising to you at how much of an effect Marcus has on you. You and Marcus exchanged numbers about a week after meeting each other and when you were both away at work, you’d send each other scattered texts throughout the day.

But rarely did you ever receive a text from him once you were both home.

It was well after one in the morning and when you open the text, you immediately grin.

Marcus: Figured after IKEA, we can grab a bite to eat? If you’d like.

You wonder if he knows you’re awake. You wonder if he’s having trouble sleeping too. You wonder if he’s excited to spend the day with you tomorrow.

So, without hesitating, you type a reply.

You know, we both said we should call it a night… Looks like neither of us can sleep. But I’d love to grab something to eat after IKEA, Marcus.

You’re about to put your phone down but Marcus replies just as quickly.

Marcus: What can I say? I’m pretty excited to spend the day with you.

You blush and smile so big that it reaches your eyes. He’s just right next door and you want so badly to just leave your apartment and go to his, to be in the comfort of his arms. Being so close to him earlier that night made your stomach do flips. His arms are so strong, yet so gentle when he wrapped them around you.

I’m excited too, Marcus.

Marcus: Okay, we should really get some rest. I’ll see you later.

Night, Marcus.

Marcus: Sweet dreams, angel.

You want to scream, want to kick your feet in the air with such excitement because your heart is so full of joy right now. The pet name hadn’t just slipped out of his mouth earlier. He meant to say it.

You set your phone aside and shut your eyes, forcing yourself to at least get some sleep before later today.

—

Marcus couldn’t sleep. All he could think about was having you in his apartment and how well you just fit right in with him. He can still hear your laugh, see your smile, feel your arms wrap around him and he wants more of it. Wants more of you. He still tries to tell himself that nothing can happen, that he doesn’t want to get hurt again, but he feels a pull whenever he thinks about you, whenever he sees you. It’s something he hasn’t ever felt before, not with his ex-wife and certainly not with Lisbon.

He tries to tell himself to ignore his feelings, to just be your friend, but it becomes increasingly difficult whenever you look at him with such hopeful and excited eyes. He knows that you’re interested in him, knows that there’s an obvious mutual attraction, and he certainly appreciates that you’re not pushing anything further. Instead, you’re going at his pace, allowing him to set the boundaries.

But Marcus does really like you.

And when he called you angel, Marcus had noticed the way your eyes lit up, the blush slowly appearing on your cheeks and while it had come out on accident, he found himself realizing that he wanted to say it every chance he could get.

Truthfully, he couldn’t wait to spend the day with you. His mind continues to go back and forth between the possibility of creating something more with you and the possibility of getting hurt all over again. He feels something whenever he’s around you, a slight tug on his heart, a certain type of pull towards you, and more often than not, you occupy most of his thoughts when you’re not around.

There’s something about you that makes Marcus realize that this could be something real. Realer than it was with his ex-wife and certainly more real than what he had with Lisbon.

—

It takes you multiple outfit changes for you to finally settle on something more casual, more relaxed and your bedroom is a complete mess due to the scattered clothes on your bed and floor. You’re scrambling to get the door when you hear a couple of knocks, knowing that it’s Marcus.

You take a quick look at yourself and let out a nervous sigh. You’re dressed in light denim jeans, a cropped white, high neck tank top, and a navy blue oversized cardigan. You didn’t have enough time to fix your hair, so you grab a hair clip and put your hair up into it, a few strands falling in front of your face.

Finally opening the front door, Marcus is standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s dressed just as casually too – dark jeans and a dark gray shirt. You look up at him, taking note of the fabric of his shirt stretching over his thick arms and he’s smiling at you, big enough that the dimple on his right cheek makes an appearance yet again.

“Hey,” he says. “You ready to go?”

You nod and grab your bag to sling it across your body. You step out of your apartment, locking it behind you and then flashing Marcus a thumbs up. “All set.”

“Great, you want me to drive?”

“Will that be okay?”

Marcus nods. “Of course. I’ve been meaning to show you around DC too, so maybe we can do that once we’re done with IKEA and grabbing a bite to eat.”

You lead him towards the elevator doors and you click the down button, waiting for the doors to open. You look over at him and smile. “You want to spend the whole day with me?” you say hopefully.

Marcus nods, looking deeply into your eyes. He gently pushes the fallen strands of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. He’s well aware now of the close proximity and how the color in your cheeks slowly begin to get pinker.

“Of course I want to spend the day with you. Do you want to spend the day with me?” he asks quietly.

You find that you’re stepping closer to him and you’re about to bring your hand up to rest over his, but the sound of the elevator doors open and his hand drops back to his side.

Taking a deep breath, you follow him into the elevator and press the button to the car garage. “Well, I did invite you, didn’t I?” you tease, trying to shake the lingering tension and the fact that he literally just tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“Fair point,” Marcus chuckles. You both lean against the wall of the elevator and Marcus stands so close to you that your hand continues to brush against his, but he keeps his eyes focused straight ahead as the elevator begins to descend.

“So, any idea on what you might be looking for when we get there?” You ask, trying to ignore the fact that he’s so close to you.

“Nope,” he answers. “I guess you can say I’m gonna go in with an open mind. What about you?”

“I really want some art work, maybe some frames. Ooh,” you say, almost like an invisible light bulb appears above your head. “Maybe an ottoman.”

Marcus laughs quietly and looks over at you. “So, it sounds like you have no idea what you’re looking for either.”

You narrow your eyes playfully and then cross your arms over your chest, pouting. “At least I have some idea.”

“You’re cute when you pout. Now, come on.” Marcus winks. The elevator doors open and he steps out, leading you towards his car. Once there, he opens the passenger door for you and waits until you’re seated inside before he shuts the door.

“Such a gentleman,” you smile, buckling your seatbelt and looking over at him when he climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Thought we already established that,” he chuckles. “You ready?”

You nod with a smile. “Let’s go.”

—

About half an hour later, you and Marcus are walking side by side into IKEA. There’s quite a lot of people already and you notice how Marcus is looking around, careful not to bump into anyone or get into anyone’s personal space. So instead, you take the initiative and reach for his hand, leading him up the stairs and towards the “beginning” of the store.

Marcus looks down at your hands and he has to resist the urge to lace his fingers with yours. This is innocent enough and he appreciates you leading the way because being in a store like this is out of Marcus’s element.

Once at the top of the stairs, he sees a variety of couches on display, but what catches his eye are the handful of living room displays specifically. It’s straight out of a catalog and he feels you pull him towards one of the displays, only letting go of his hand when you realize it’s only the two of you in the small space.

“Oh, this is nice,” you say, arms swinging at your sides as you plop down onto the dark gray couch. “Come sit.”

Marcus smiles and sits next to you, arm draped at the back of the couch as you lean against him. “It’s nice. Comfy.”

In addition to the couch, there’s a wooden coffee table sitting in front of the both of you along with a TV placed atop of a wooden TV stand with three cabinets below. It’s very modern, but while you usually would take your time imagining certain displays in your home, all you can think about is the man next to you.

“Yeah, but I’m still on the lookout for an ottoman.”

Marcus chuckles and then stands up from the couch. He reaches out a hand for you to take and looks down at you. “Well then, we’re not going to find one just by sitting here.”

“But the best part about IKEA is imagining that all of this belongs to you,” you giggle, taking his hand and standing up from the couch.

“We could be here for hours then,” he teases.

“Exactly.”

“Wait,” Marcus says, walking to catch up to you once you begin walking away. “We’re not going to be here for hours though, right?”

“Why? Got other plans?” you tease.

“Well,” Marcus chuckles. “I really want to take you to this really nice restaurant tonight, but… If you want to spend our day here, that’s fine with me.”

“No! A really nice restaurant sounds good to me.”

“I thought so,” he winks. “Now, let’s go find you an ottoman.”

This time, Marcus is the one that takes your hand and leads the way. You blush immediately and follow him eagerly. Walking around with him like this feels so normal. It just feels like a regular day you would spend with your boyfriend, looking at things to buy to decorate your home. You catch yourself staring at him more often than you should, especially since he seems to be clearly focused on helping you find an ottoman.

You pull away from him only when you see the displays for the kitchens appear. Grinning excitedly, you make your way to the display that catches your eye almost instantly. You let your fingers dance along the wooden countertop of the kitchen counter, imagining that this was your kitchen. The color of the black cabinets are black with wooden countertops. It’s a modern take of an old traditional kitchen farmhouse.

Marcus leans against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest and smiles at you. “You like this one, I take it?”

“I do,” you smile. “I really like the black cabinets and the wooden countertop accents.”

“I can imagine you cooking in a kitchen like this.”

“Yeah?”

Marcus nods, coming around the kitchen island to stand next to you. “This is also the type of kitchen I’d like in my own place too.”

You bite your lower lip and look up at him. “Seems like we both have good tastes.”

“Seems like it,” Marcus rests a hand on the counter and leans in closer to you. “What would be the first thing you’d make in a kitchen like this?”

“Hmm, if you’re coming over, definitely my pesto pasta.”

Marcus grins and thinks back to the first time he had dinner with you, how you had invited him over to make sure he would have something to eat. “Oh, that is my favorite.”

You bite your lower lip and step closer to him, clearly in his personal space as you look up at him. The front of your bodies barely graze one another before the sound of a family enters the kitchen display. Suddenly, you’re very aware of how close and intimate you are with him and you both take a step back, giving each other some distance.

“Ottoman?” you ask.

“Yeah, let’s keep looking.”

—

You and Marcus had been at IKEA for almost an hour with no luck in finding an ottoman that you liked. Truthfully, Marcus doesn’t want this day to end. Stopping at almost each display that IKEA had gives him a glimpse of what life could be like with you. How sitting in that living room at the beginning makes him think of movie nights, cuddling on the couch or how seeing you stand in that kitchen display makes him imagine coming home every day to see you cooking dinner. This – It all feels so real and so normal with you.

Deciding that you might not leave with an ottoman today, you spend the rest of the hour just browsing around with Marcus. It isn’t until you get to the children’s area that you come up with an idea and make a beeline towards the variety of stuffed animals they have on display.

Marcus follows you casually, hands in his pockets, as he finds your smile and happiness so infectious. “Planning on getting stuff for your classroom?”

“No…” you say, looking through the variety of animals.

“Ah, so for your apartment?”

“Something like that…”

“It’s too bad they don’t make quokkas as stuffed animals,” Marcus points out.

“Quokkas?”

“Yeah. You know, from Australia, known to be the ‘happiest animal’ in the world because of how cute they look.”

“I know what quokkas are…” you chuckle. “But what made you think of quokkas?”

“You.”

“Me?” you ask, looking up at him. “Why?”

“Well, because you’re cute.” Marcus chuckles. “And whenever you get excited about something or talk about your job, your eyes get so big and you get this biggest grin on your face. It’s cute. Like a quokka.”

You blush and shake your head, biting your lower lip. “Yeah, yeah.” you playfully roll your eyes and go back to looking in the bin of stuffed animals and then grab two teddy bears. You lift it up in his direction and grin. “One for you and one for me?”

“Great,” Marcus grins, taking both of the stuffed animals in his hand. “On me.”

“Wait, Marcus, no–”

“Come on.” Marcus interrupts, using his free hand to take yours into his own. “I’m starving.”

“We can get meatballs here?”

Marcus shakes his head. “Nope. I’ve got a spot in mind.

“Okay, but can we get ice cream before we leave? IKEA has a small food court and it’s like tradition that I leave with an ice cream cone, but if–”

“See,” Marcus grins. “Cute.”

—

Once you and Marcus check out, you lead him towards the small food court and wait in line. He’s holding the two stuffed teddy bears in his arm while still keeping a hold on your hand. You look up at him and bite your lower lip, feeling the courage to slowly lace your fingers with his own.

Marcus’s attention moves from the menu to look down at you once he feels your fingers entwine with his. He sees your lower lip between your teeth and you’re looking up at him nervously, as if you’re trying to gauge if this was okay, if holding your hand like this was fine with him.

He doesn’t say anything. Marcus just steps closer to you and gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “So, just a vanilla ice cream cone?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Tradition.”

Marcus smiles. “A tradition you created or…”

“Something me and my family would always do after an IKEA trip.” you smile to yourself, running the pad of your thumb across the back of his hand.

“Would you all get a vanilla ice cream cone?” he chuckles.

“No, just me, but they would get their cinnamon rolls.”

Marcus smiles and gently takes your joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft and gentle kiss on the back of your hand. “I want you to know that I’d like to get to know more about you,” he confesses. “If that’s okay.”

You nod almost too quickly, biting the inside of your cheek. You’re staring so deeply into his dark brown eyes that everything around the both of you seems to slowly disappear. “I’d like that, a lot.”

Marcus smiles. “Great. So, tonight… Would you like to go out on a date?”

“Oh, to that really nice restaurant you mentioned?” you smile.

Marcus chuckles and nods, letting your hands now drop back down. “Yes, to that really nice restaurant.”

“Of course, Marcus, but can we still grab lunch?”

He grins. “Well, we did say we were gonna spend the day together. That includes lunch.”

Your cheeks are hurting from smiling so big, but you can’t help it. You’re so happy and you lean against his arm, keeping a hold on his hand. “I just want to make sure that you still–”

Marcus looks down at you and gently presses a kiss on your forehead. “I like spending time with you, angel. Being around you just– I feel happier, lighter…”

You let out a contented sigh and nod, wrapping your free arm around his and holding him close to you. “I can’t believe we’re expressing our feelings while waiting in line at IKEA’s food court.”

He lets out a quiet laugh and then kisses the crown of your head. “Well, I was gonna tell you how I felt regardless.”

“And just so we’re clear,” you say softly. “I like spending time with you too, Marcus, and… I really do like you.”

—

prev.

—

—

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #marcus pike #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #the mentalist fanfic #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x fem!reader #marcus pike x reader #story: second chances

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steddiealltheway · 1 year

Text

Coming back to say that this went in a completely different direction than I imagined, but I’m just gonna keep it.

Obsessed with the idea of Steve trying to be Eddie’s wingman.

Like one day Eddie is lingering around Family Video and Steve notices a girl eyeing his friend. And yeah, Eddie is cute, Steve isn’t afraid to admit that, but he’s never seen him even attempt to ask a girl out. So he decides it’s time to maybe encourage him or do it for him.

So, Steve follows this girl over to the horror section - and look at that, similar interests! - and notes that Eddie is following behind him. And yeah, the girl is pretty cute, she even has some metal looking band on her t-shirt that Steve is sure Eddie mentioned to him before. Oh! They’re definitely on the mixtape Eddie made for him. This is perfect.

So, Steve taps on the girl’s shoulder and smiles when he notices her staring at Eddie over his shoulder. “Excuse me, I was wondering if you needed any help.”

The girl replies in a higher voice than Steve expected, “Oh… I… I don’t know.” Jackpot. She’s utterly enamored by Eddie. And yeah, she should be when he’s wearing his hair in that messy bun and those jeans that fit just right.

Steve takes a moment to think about how well those jeans fit before shaking himself out of it. Weird. But he has a mission. “Well, my friend here knows all there is to know about horror movies, so I’ll let him help you.”

Steve gives Eddie a quick pat on the shoulder, noting how adorable he is when he looks panicked. He goes back to the counter and watches as the girl nervously twirls her hair around her finger, then she’s loudly laughing and Eddie looks startled. Steve tries to suppress a laugh.

Then the girl is picking a movie and thanking Eddie for his help while trailing a hand down his arm. Steve’s stomach churns. Must’ve had something bad for lunch or something, but that doesn’t explain why he feels so… angry with himself. He’ll deal with that later. But now the girl is rushing to the counter.

Steve notices Eddie lingering in the horror section, likely a little flustered by the whole interaction. So Steve winks at the girl and says, “So, I see my friend was a great help to you.”

The girl giggles in response and leans forward. “Does your friend have plans tomorrow night?” she asks then bites her lip.

“With you at nine o’clock? Absolutely. I’ll give him your number in case he needs to reschedule.”

The girl scribbles down her number on a notepad Steve hands her then they exchange notepad for her tape. “Have a goodnight!” Steve yells after her and looks down at the note. Why does he want to rip it to shreds? The front door shuts.

“What the hell was that?” Eddie asks and Steve jumps not realizing he was at the counter.

“I was helping you out, man. Being your wingman.” Steve shrugs it off and starts organizing the returns in piles by genre, struggling to find why Eddie is so pissed at him.

“Maybe let me decide who I want to ask out, Harrington,” Eddie bites out, shoving the tapes to the side.

What the hell? And Harrington? He hasn’t heard that in a while. And something about it pisses Steve off. “Well, Munson, if you actually went on dates then I wouldn’t feel the need to help you.”

“Help me,” Eddie scoffs. “I’m not some damsel in distress that needs saving King Steve.”

“Don’t call me that,” Steve says turning around to try to look busy at the computer so Eddie doesn’t see the way the name gets to him.

Eddie hops over the counter as Steve is typing the girl’s name into the system and finding her past rentals. “Why not? King Steve can’t help but try to save The Freak. Why not just call it as it is?”

Steve turns around and runs a hand through his hair. “Why are you getting so worked up about this? It’s just a date!”

“I’ve never been on a date, you asshole! And I certainly wouldn’t want to go on one with a girl because I want to go on one with you!” Eddie yells then the color drains from his face as he must realize what he’s just admitted.

Steve freezes to process what Eddie’s just said. But then Eddie’s backing up and saying, “I have to go.” He turns to jump over the counter again, but Steve comes to his senses and latches onto his wrist stopping him.

Eddie slowly turns to him and whispers, “Please, don’t hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Eddie,” Steve says still latching onto his wrist. “Just… give me a minute, and please don’t run.”

Eddie reluctantly nods at him as Steve lets go of his wrist. His eyes flicker to the door, but his feet remain in place.

Steve stares at him and processes. Eddie wants to go on a date with him. Okay. He’s had girls who have had a crush on him before that wasn’t reciprocated, and he easily turned them down. Some of them he even remained sort of friends with.

But for some reason the news is making his heart race in a good way. Like… a really good way. Almost like he wants to go on a date with Eddie. But he’s… not gay. Right?

His eyes slowly roam over Eddie, and then he stops when he realizes he’s blatantly checking him out. But when has that stopped him from checking out his friend before?

Oh. Oh shit. He thinks about the way he notices the fit of his jeans, and the way he loves when Eddie pushes the sleeves of his shirt up to expose more skin. He thinks about how he’s always been curious what it would be like for girls to kiss Eddie when he’s let his scruff slightly grow in. But then he imagines what it would be like for him to experience that. And his world kind of combusts.

He likes Eddie. Like really likes him. Not just physically but like, he loves the way he scrunches his nose up at the music Steve plays but sometimes reluctantly sings along. He loves the way his lame jokes make the corner of Eddie’s eyes crinkle. He loves that bright smile he gets on his face whenever he’s messing around with the kids. He loves whenever Eddie comes by the store and lingers for as long as he can just to keep him company.

He thinks back to the way he felt when the girl traced her hand over his arm, and the way the thought of Eddie using her number to call her made him feel… jealous. Holy shit. Oh he’s such an idiot. But an idiot who can make amends.

He notices how Eddie is practically shaking while Steve has just been standing there not saying anything. He needs to fix this. “Are you free tomorrow at nine?”

A look of betrayal crosses over Eddie’s face. “I’m not going on a date with that girl. You can’t make me straight-”

“No! That’s not… shit. That’s not at all what I meant,” Steve huffs out and runs a hand through his hair. He’s messing this up more. Shit. Okay, here it goes. “I’m asking if you’re free tomorrow to see if you can go on a date… with me.”

Now it’s Eddie turn to freeze and process. A few excruciatingly long seconds later Eddie is responding, “Are you kidding me?” Steve’s heart drops to his stomach. Eddie continues, “You’re asking me out before I got the chance to?”

Steve can’t help but burst out laughing. Eddie joins him but between laughs he says, “I’m serious! This is unfair!” For some reason this makes Steve laugh harder, and soon enough he’s wiping tears from his eyes as Eddie looks at him fondly.

“You’re free tomorrow at nine though, right?” Steve asks.

“No, but are you free tomorrow at nine o one to go on a date with me?” Eddie asks and Steve is cackling all over again.

The bell to the front door rings and Robin enters. She looks at the two and asks, “What the hell did I miss during my break? I was only gone for fifteen minutes.”

This only manages to make Steve laugh more as Eddie joins him.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #stranger things

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shiningfremi · 7 months

Text

freminet teaches you how to swim!

[ the pro-diver x the not-so-coordinated y/n ]

wc: 1.9k

enjoy the story! ≽^•⩊•^≼

❀ you adored your blossoming relationship between you and freminet. but the problem is, you can't swim. how will you accompany him in the water if you can only manage to go two feet in? ah.. this calls for swimming lessons! will he give them to you? you wanted nothing more than to spend time with your boyfriend doing the thing he loves most. plus, you've been needing to be taught this skill for a long time coming, not only for freminet, but for your own safety! no more floaties, y/n~!

❀ you were on a date with him one day, well, it was more of you tagging along with him as he went to dive and log his discoveries, but he enjoyed greeting you at the shore and playing in the shallow end with you at times. freminet would pop up out of the water just to see your pretty face and hang around you for a bit until he went back in again.

❀ you usually loved to pick out the best seashells for him, digging them out of the warm sand. he would end up keeping every single one and held them in a keepsake box. your heart just fluttered thinking about it, but you wanted more than to just stay behind and find trinkets on land.

as the two of you were on the way home for the night, you asked him the question.

🏖✨️🌺

"hey, freminet?" you pique his interest.

"yes? is something wrong? i apologize if you were getting bored.. we can do something else tomorrow." he sighed, instinctively putting his walls up.

“not at all. in fact, i wanted to ask you a favor. can you please teach me how to swim?” you asked him, hopes high and eyes gleaming. you were so excited to finally try and learn, and who better than him to teach you? he’s the best diver in all of fontaine!

“wait.. really?” freminet seemed as if that was the last question he was expecting.

“i thought you weren’t open to the idea, seeing you never strayed far from the shore.. so i never pried. are you s-sure?”

“of course! i should’ve learned when i was little, but i’ve always been afraid to drown. now that i realize it, i need to be properly prepared.” you cleared your throat. “i want to explore with you. i truly want to know more, but my lack of ability is holding me back.” you confess.

“alright y/n, i will try my very best to help. i promise to keep you safe.” he gratefully sighed with a small smile. “say, when would you like to start?”

“tomorrow!” you beam cheerfully. >ᴗ<

🏖✨️🌺

❀ when you told freminet that you wanted to learn to swim, he was over the moon. he hoped that you would enjoy the realm of possibilities that would unfold as a result. but for now, he was lazer focused on your well-being, and when you guys reached the secluded beach where your first session would begin, he told you over and over again that you shouldn't push yourself. swimming can be difficult at first.

❀ you reminded him of how greatly you wanted to do this, and so he simply gave you a tiny nod, happy knowing that he is able to share his knowledge with you. he loves you whether you are able to swim or not, but the fact that you’re taking the initiative.. warms his heart.

❀ when you two were taking off your coverups, freminet’s swimsuit was revealed and your jaw dropped. it was a change from his thick diving suit that concealed his entire body, and you had never seen him in such a tight fit up until now. it accentuated his muscle tone and his broad shoulders. you willed yourself to stop your heart from beating out of your chest.

🏖✨️🌺

“that swimsuit looks perfect on you!” you’d compliment him.

although you could tell he felt a bit insecure.

“ah, it does? thank you.. i'm glad you like it.” he looked away, his face heating right up. your kind words felt very significant to him, but it is difficult for him to express his gratitude without feeling like a horde of butterflies forced their way into his stomach.

“anywho, where do we begin, my dear teacher?” you tease. this makes him blush even more. hey, you just have to give this boy all the admiration that you possibly can! he deserves it~! even if he isn’t used to it.. ;^;

“p-please y/n! you’re making my heart melt.” he blurted out.

“i’m overjoyed that i am.” you gave him a thoughtful grin, and turned away to dabble into the water. “whew, it’s cold!”

freminet followed closely behind you, and both of you began wading in until the water was up to your torsos. that’s about how deep you were able to go without a struggle emerging.

“it will warm up after awhile.” he assures you, whilst he has no reaction whatsoever to the chill.

you stretch your arms and get prepared. "a little cold won't hurt!" you respond in determination, letting out a sharp breath.

“alright, the first step to swimming is knowing how to float. so, we’re going to start off on your back. it will greatly help with keeping stable in the water…” freminet directed.

“okay, that doesn’t sound too difficult!” you excitedly respond. you sink down and slowly lean back, but the sensation puts you off. you didn’t know the first thing about proper form.

as if freminet was reading your mind, he quickly comes to your aid. “i-it’s fine y/n, i’m right here to hold you up. lay down, and i’ll adjust you.”

you trust his guidance, and so you continue to lean until the back of your head touched the surface of the water, and suddenly, you feel one hand under your head and another one holding up your lower back area, stabilizing your body.

“there we go, n-now just breathe how you normally would. you can loosen your legs so they dangle..” he told you. “the thing about floating is that your center of gravity is in your upper body."

you listened in, and looked down at your center to make sure you were balanced. but instead, your body was feeling heavy and you were a bit lopsided. "ohh, gotcha!"

"i'll give you some pointers, uhmm, so you'll want to point your chin up to the sky. if you focus on what your feet are doing, you won't stay afloat because your stomach will sink."

you'd adjust your chin, obeying his instruction. "got it!" you spotted a pretty cloud in the process. what a beautiful day~

"and, you'll want to lift your chest and your hips up. that will arch your back and help tilt your body to break the surface." he helped you out to find the perfect positioning, carefully making small adjustments.

"that's a lot better!" you mentioned, your spirit building. "what next?"

"you're doing a great job, y/n.. now you just need to spread your arms out and pretend you're a swan, propeling yourself backwards. i'll be holding you the entire time. would you like to try?"

"mhm!" you began to move your arms, and glided through the gentle waves. it felt surreal, you were totally weightless with freminet moving you along.

"yes, that's good!" he applauded. "okay, can you use your legs next?" a glint of confidence was revealed within him.

you then used your legs, but flailed them about and accidentally created some splashes.

"a bit more gently, and you've got it. try to keep your calves under the water, then kick on again." he instructed with the smallest hint of a chuckle. this feeling.. his love for you, and your company, it made him feel so giddy.

you took his advice, and tried again, making sure to avoid disrupting the surface of the water, and then you stood up straight with one of his hands boosting you up.

“that's correct. can you.. try using your arms and legs at the same time?”

you were determined, but you paused for a moment to try and figure out how you were going to stay coordinated.

“don't worry about staying afloat yet, we will get to that. my hands are right under you at all times.” he nodded earnestly, patiently waiting for you to try it out.

“i got this!” you pump your fists in the air, then you prepare yourself, angling your frame backwards as freminet hovers his arms near.

“do everything that i’ve taught you so far.”

taking a breath in, you kick your legs, and once you were consistent, you then propelled your arms, making large, controlled movements, grateful for his help to keep steady.

“you’re doing it, you’re doing it y/n!” freminet praised.

“i am?” you beam, and continue on. “i really am!” you couldn’t believe it. this had to be the first time if your life that you properly swam.

you travel for a couple feet, before you look up at freminet's face to notice that he has on the biggest, most adorable smile that you have ever seen.

“it's all thanks to you.” you tell him, before slowing down and coming up once more.

“i've got to say, you're a natural.” his expression was so sincere that you couldn't help but get flustered and beam.

🏖✨️🌺

❀ after some more practicing with freminet, you were tired out. but it was a great feeling, because this only marks the beginning of all the progress that there is to come! you were helped to realize that swimming wasn't so scary after all. as long as you had the best teacher by your side, you could accomplish anything!

❀ something else that you were loving was that freminet tended to put his hair up into a ponytail before swimming. occasionally, he lets you put braids in his hair~ what more is there to love?

🏖✨️🌺

it was getting dark, and so you both decided to dry off and start walking home together. but as you made your way out of the ocean, a wave surged your leg forward in the shallow end and caused you to trip on a rock.

“ack!” you call out in surprise, feeling yourself losing your foothold. before you could brace your hands forward to hit the ground, you feel a cradling sensation.

you fell right into his arms!

“y/n, are you alright? I'm sorry! i should have warned you about the rocks over here.”

though, his words weren't what you were focused on at the moment. he had a hand on your waist and the other grasping your shoulder, and he was staring down at you in concern, blond locks flowing with the light wind.

“yes.. i'm okay.” you finally speak, and notice an endearing spark in his gorgeous eyes. you swore that you could find a thousand hues of blue in them, getting lost in his dreamy gaze.

you were totally frozen in place, and it wasn’t because of the chilly water.

by now, the dusk had begun to settle, and in the twilight, you find yourself yearning for a kiss, his captivating features inviting you in.

without another word, you pull your head up until you were inches away from his face. freminet blinked a few times, then closed his eyes in anticipation.

your lips met with his, and you both melt into the soft, sweet kiss. the waves crash by your legs, but you weren't going anywhere with the way freminet was holding on to you like no tomorrow.

what a pleasant end to your lesson~

#fontaine #genshin fluff #genshin impact #genshin x reader #gn!reader #fremi #genshin headcanons #freminet genshin #freminet x reader #freminet fluff #freminet headcanons #freminet #freminet x reader fluff #freminet x gn!reader #ily fremi #shiningfremi

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shootingstarwritings · 1 year

Text

"Hey bro, how does a crew battle work...?"

Hey, it's me again! The name's James. Last time we checked up like this, I hopped my roommate's body so he'd get better at fighting games. His name's Korrin, but he prefers Kor.

I gotta admit, these powers were a pretty sweet deal. He suddenly had a brand new genre to enjoy and I got to play with his body every once in a while. Seemed like a win-win, right?

Well, we got caught up talking just a bit too much shit during one of the weeklies. Think I ended up messing with my roommate's personality a bit too much while I was jerking off as him. He was far cockier than before I started taking over.

"Yeah, that's right. $500 crew battle," said Kor, flexing his muscles through the tight t-shirt I had mind-fucked him into preferring to wear. "Me and James could beat the shit outta everyone in this venue. Easy."

I wrapped an arm around his shoulder, saying, "Chill the hell out before you spend all our rent money," through clenched teeth. In response, he leaned over and gave me a deep kiss before talking more shit.

We didn't have to play everyone in the venue, but now we were stuck in a 4v4 crew battle; and Kor had successfully pissed off just about everyone who was a regular. We had two weeks to find two other guys to fill out our team or we'd be going hungry for the next month.

The ride home was quiet, although Kor didn’t seem to mind. He stared straight ahead, one hand on the steering wheel while another was on my thigh. Occasionally, he would squeeze while smiling at me. The way his eyes lit up whenever we were together dazzled me. I couldn’t stay mad at him, especially when it was my fault he was the way he was.

"Aww, don’tcha worry," said Kor as he massaged my shoulders, another trait I had bestowed him. My bed was a bit small for the two of us, and Kor had often wondered out loud if we could fit a queen sized bed in my room. “I’m sure we’ll find some guys. Even if they’re dead weight, you and me can wipe the floor with everyone there.” Before I could say anything, he leaned over and kiss my neck. I shivered, toes curling as he greedily licked one of my more sensitive spots.

After I let out a few… unbecoming moans, Kor pulled away and tittered. “Love making you cry out like that,” he said in a sensual tone. “Well, good night. Gotta get to the gym early tomorrow.”

As the door to his room shut close, I stared up at the ceiling and sighed. I had a few other friends that liked games, but they had no interested in fighting games like me. Of course, that had never stopped me before…

Two weeks should be enough time to make two pros, right?

The first guy on my list was Jason. He was a buddy of mine that I met in college. Smart, kind, and eager to show off the gains he'd made at the gym. "I spent three years to get this bod," he had bragged to me, showing off his toned and sweaty torso. Even so, he still enjoyed playing games, particularly RPGs. He was always throwing one my way or another--with tons of fan translations and cryptic guides as well.

I'd have to play one of them to completion one of these days to thank him for the service he was about to provide.

The night after Kor made his bet, I made my move. I locked my door and focused on flying. My body slowly lost its weight, density, and then mass in general. Skin peeled away and disappeared into dust, waiting for the chance to reform once my mission was complete. Organs twisted into neat little knots that blinked out of existence. My bones ground up against each other before vanishing.

It was only during those few precious moments that my soul was free. I sailed through the sky, unable to feel the wind on my face yet elated all the same. The moon was so close to my fingertips that it felt unfair that I couldn't grasp it. However, I knew exactly what I could grip instead.

I phased through Jason's apartment with little issue and found himself soon afterward. He was playing a battle simulator without a shirt on. "It's about a 73% to one-hit KO," he muttered to himself as he clicked through an innumerable amount of tabs. I knew for a fact some of them were months old and untouched for just as long.

Probably another habit I’d have to kick, but it was hard to focus on that when I kept focusing on that tight body he had. I would’ve licked my lips of I had any in that form. Not wanting to waste any more time, I hopped into him.

“Hnng…! Ahhh…hah…!” Jason let out a moan, tongue sticking out involuntarily as a shiver of pleasure ran all throughout his body. “Wh-what the fuck—is happening—“ Jason moaned as he turned around and began to hump his seat cushions. “AH! NRGH AAAAAHHHH!” Any words Jason would’ve tried to cry out were soon overpowered by panicked pants of pleasure. His hands, which would’ve normally reached for his phone to call for help, could only play with his chest and sensitive nipples.

My will overpowered his own, but Jason didn’t seem to mind. He kicked off his shoes, socked toes curling up in pleasure, and rubbed his trembling body all over the coach. “I-I…! K-Keep go—OOAHH—Keep going!” He said, panting and laughing the whole time. His back arched once more as he let out a strangled scream while his erect cock spewed semen all over his shorts. Jason, mind drowning in a hurricane of euphoria curtesy of me, collapsed covered in a sweaty, semen-covered mess.

Eventually, I opened my new eyes and felt my chiseled body. “Mmm, oh Jason. Let’s get your hand-eye coordination to my level.” As I began to strip so I could play in the nude, I saw angry DMs from Jason’s opponent.

Smirking, I walked over to the laptop and messaged him back. “Sorry bro, too busy playing games and fucking bussy to play with a pussy like you. GG you win, loser.”

I laughed as I got another stream of profanities from Jason’s old opponent, but I didn’t care. I was covered in sweat, smelling like a real man, while I was playing my favorite game.

Once Jason was done and truly mind-fucked, I had one more person I needed to visit.

#male possession #male body possession #ghost possession #spirit possession #astral projection possession

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zegrasdrysdale · 6 months

Text

[ christmas kisses ] c. caufield

day nine of malia’s christmas fic marathon

paring : Cole Caufield x fem!reader

summary : (Y/N) teaches Cole how to wrap presents

warning(s) : slightly nsfw ! suggestive content, heavy makeout, mostly fluffy tho

author’s note : moving right along lol

༺═──────────────═༻

She gets the call as she’s wrapping gifts for her family. A panicked Cole is on the other end of the line.

“(Y/N), I need your help,” Cole says as soon as she picks up the phone. “I’m just now realizing that I have no idea how to wrap presents when I have about a dozen to wrap. Nick isn’t here to help me so can you come over to help if you’re not busy?”

With a glance at the five more gifts she had to wrap, she decides that they can wait until tonight because her family isn’t flying in until tomorrow. “Yeah,” she replies. “I can be there in ten minutes.”

“You are the best friend in the entire world,” Cole sighs. “Thank you.”

“Mhm,” she hums. “See you in a little bit.”

The line goes dead and she finishes wrapping her mom’s gift. As soon as she’s done, she grabs the closest hoodie and her pair of Crocs before heading out the door to go to Cole and Nick’s apartment.

As she sits in the Uber from her apartment to Cole’s, she thinking about “the best friend in the entire world” that Cole said to her.

For years, (Y/N) has hidden her feelings for the Montreal winger. Cole has never seemed to reciprocate those feelings and constantly friendzones her. She’s terrified to tell him about her feelings because of their friendship.

She doesn’t want to lose him over something she can’t control. She represses her feelings every time she sees him because she’s afraid that she’s going to say or do something that will expose how she feels.

That’s the last thing she wants.

Ten minutes goes by a lot quicker than she would like. The Uber pulls up to Cole’s apartment building and she thanks the driver. (Y/N) texts Cole that she’s on her way up.

Cole is opening the door when the elevator opens and she walks toward the apartment.

“I owe you my life,” Cole tells her when she walks into the apartment. “Seriously.”

“I’m not staying for long, Cole,” she replies. “I’m going to show you what to do then you’re on your own. I can’t come over here every time Nick isn’t here to wrap your presents for you.”

The door shuts behind both of them and (Y/N) walks to the gift filled dining room table. Cole walks up beside her and says, “I still appreciate you coming over to help. I know you’re getting ready for your family to come over.”

She looks over at him and he shoots her a smile. “You know I’d do anything for you,” she reminds him. “I do have a few more gifts to wrap for tomorrow so let me show you what to do so I can get back home.”

Cole nods and hands her one of the boxes. She grabs a roll of wrapping paper and measures it out to make sure it’ll fit the box just right.

Then she demonstrates what to do. Cole watches with interest as she wraps the first gift. She tries not to have a reaction to Cole’s eyes on her.

“That’s how you wrap a present,” she happily says when she’s done. He looks up at Cole, who still looks confused. “Oh my God, Cole. It’s not that hard. Grab a box while I cut a piece of wrapping paper.”

He listens to her instructions and grabs a box. She places it in the middle of the piece of paper. (Y/N) shoves one of the rolls of tape at him and he takes it. “You act like I know what to do,” he tells her.

“Take one of the sides and fold it over half the box,” she tells him. Cole listens to her. “Tape it down so it doesn’t move on you when you go to fold the other side.” He does what she says.

He listens to everything she says, until it’s time to fold the sides. They work on it together.

She tries not to react every single time their fingers touch. She does glance up at him and finds it very hard not to say how cute he looks while he’s focused. Cole looks down at her and she watches his face get red.

“How does it look?” she asks.

“Really good,” Cole mumbles. His eyes are on her when he says it.

That’s when she’s realized she’s completely pressed against his side. She goes to move away and Cole follows her. “What are you doing?” she softly asks.

There’s a quick moment of fear in his eyes as he says, “I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry. I thought you felt it too.”

“Felt what?” She wants to hear him say it.

Cole hesitates for a second before motioning between the two of them. “This,” he admits. “Us. I think I read the whole thing wrong.”

Her head immediately begins to shake and she turns so she is facing him. “You haven’t read anything wrong,” she admits to him. “Cole, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for some indication that you liked me and wanted more than just a friendship.”

“(Y/N), I have probably been in love with you since the day we met,” he admits. “I’ve been terrified to tell you. I had no idea you felt the same way.”

An involuntary smile breaks out on her face. She can’t believe this is happening.

“Can I kiss you?” Cole asks, voice quiet.

After a small nod from (Y/N), he leans down and presses a soft kiss to her lips. Cole pulls back to make sure she’s okay.

It’s a quick kiss to test out the waters and cross the line that they’ve both apparently been flirting with for years. She meets his eyes for a second before Cole leans in for a second kiss. This one is deeper and more intense than the last kiss.

(Y/N) wraps her arms around Cole’s neck so he can’t pull away again. He presses her body against his and one of Cole’s hands flies to her waist.

Her heart is pounding in her chest and she hopes that he can’t feel it. Their friendship is evolving into something more. It’s changing with every kiss they share.

She couldn’t be more excited and terrified.

To get a better angle, Cole wraps his arms around her waist and lifts her up to she’s sitting on the table. He’s standing between her knees and she keeps their bodies pressed together.

Now that she’s had him like this and touched him like this, she isn’t sure that she ever wants to let him go. It doesn’t seem like Cole wants to let her go either.

She has a grip on the collar of his shirt. Cole moves his hips against hers, and she lets out a soft whine. “Coley,” she mumbles against his lips. “Please.”

His hands slide around to the back of her neck. His fingers find a home in the hair on the back of her neck. Cole pulls back and (Y/N) chases his lips.

“Not today,” he tells her. She pouts and his thumb traces her bottom lip. “I can come over when your parents leave tomorrow. I don’t leave for Carolina until Wednesday.”

(Y/N) smiles and nods. “Can we go back to kissing now?” she asks. “I want kisses for Christmas.”

Cole laughs and happily brings their lips together again.

He’s like a drug, and now she can’t get enough of him.

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garglyswoof · 30 days

Text

the space we'll fill with time

For Come What May May 29th: Say the Quiet Parts Out Loud A conversation you don't think they'll ever have but wish they would. | What are some offscreen moments you wish you could see? I won't be around much tomorrow, so posting early.

“What was she like?” Karen’s question is soft as it breaks the comfortable quiet. Frank winces before realizing the reaction is just instinct - he's unbothered by the question. Not when it comes from her.

He turns the wince into a smile that stretches across his face as he remembers. “She was a ballbuster, that’s for sure. Didn’t take any shit from me. Made me understand what a real man needed to be, y’know?” He glances up at Karen where she sits, patient and interested.

“The married guys in my unit would bitch and moan about taking care of their kids when they were on leave, or doing dishes or some shit. And y’know, sometimes that stuff settles into you, right? So I came home once, before Kandahar, and I started complaining about having to do laundry or something, and she let me have it.” Frank shakes his head, grin wide. “God damn my life flashed before my eyes she took me down so hard. She was just merciless,” he laughs.

Karen smiles. “Sounds like she could keep up with you.”

“Yeah. More than.” It’s quiet for a minute as they both sit with their own thoughts. Frank’s the first to break it.

“M’ not saying everything was sunshine and roses, no way," He shakes his head firmly. "We both had our faults. She had trouble letting the kids be independent, and I wanted them to grow up and help their mom out. ‘Specially because I wasn’t around. I guess that was a selfish ask.”

“I don’t think so. I mean I get both sides. They’re just different.”

His hand scrapes the stubble on his face as he agrees, the sound loud in the relative quiet of the apartment. “You want another beer?” He gets up at her nod and grabs them both a bottle, frosted from the refrigerator’s chill. He opens her bottle with his own, an old party trick he learned back in recruit training that never fails to make Karen smile. She lifts a brow and holds her hand out when he can’t find an opener for his own beer, then proceeds to open it for him with a key of all things.

“I’ve been practicing,” she says with a proud smile that slams him in the chest. He sits down at the end of the couch and tugs her into him, her back against his front, her silken hair tickling him until he sweeps it away to gently lay a kiss on her neck.

Karen asks another question, her voice soft again. “Who gave the best gifts?” Frank’s surprised huff is loud in her ear.

“Not me, that’s for sure. I had to learn. She never wanted jewelry, shit like that.” His chin rests on her shoulder and he tilts his face to hers. “You sure you’re okay talking about this?”

“I want to know. She’s a part of your life.” The tense doesn’t go unnoticed, nor does her brief kiss to his lips, silencing his concerns. Part of him wants to get lost in it but he can feel she’s hungry for his words, for the little things that made up his life before.

Before. God, what a small word to fit too much into.

He thinks it over and Karen lets him, he hears her bottle lift and drop, the slosh of liquid and the displacement of air.

Before. Before grief so strong that the only recourse was rage. Before he let himself become The Punisher. He tenses up and Karen places a gentle kiss on his cheek. He slows the thoughts from spiraling, for her. It takes him a few moments to center himself as the living room clock that he swears he's going to find a way to secretly throw out one day ticks loudly, resolutely.

“Y’know that whole thing, not that Women are from Mars shit but the other self-help thing. Uhhh,” he lifts his head from her shoulder and takes a swig. “Your love language, yeah?” He sees her nod and continues. “Maria was an acts of service person, so it worked because that’s what I’m good at. Fix the washer, take the kids to the dentist, she could care less about gifts when it came down to it.”

“What about you, what’s your love language?” And god if the question isn’t so strange, because part of being with Karen is realizing that they haven’t known each other all that long, the moments stretching out like hours through the violence were just that.

“Touch, for one.” He nuzzles into her neck again, as if to illustrate the point. “I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy. After they died, that was the hardest, I think. To know I’d never be able to wrap my arms around her, around the kids.” His chest constricts; his heart knows it will never not hurt, same as his head.

She sits up and turns in his arms. “I should be the one asking if you’re okay.”

He blinks once, twice. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Because he knows this is part of the after.

After. He met Karen in the space between, he knows that now, just as he knows she's the one that stretched the moment out, turned time on its head, helped him have this. He smiles and Karen looks at him curiously, her eyes bright and warm. After. Yeah. That word can't hold it all either.

He pulls her into his arms, arms that cross over her back more than they did with Maria. Karen feels different and he’s glad for it. Doesn’t want to confuse the two, ever. Feels disrespectful to both of them. His voice is a little more broken than he intended when he speaks again.

“I love you. And I love her.”

“I know.”

It’s gentle and soft and everything, to the both of them.

#kastle #kastleexchange #kastlenetwork #i keep writing things with 0 editing in an hour ill start thinking im not bad at this maybe #either way this is a moment id love to see #hope you like it too #the good thing about 0 notes is i can edit and no one will know #the bad thing is

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irradiatedsnakes · 4 months

Text

btw in the tmagp launch celebratory stream alice's voice actor said her favorite scene that'd been recorded by that point was "alice and sam go to a place". so i suppose we'll be getting that next week :]

other notes. this statement (hey! actually a statement this time! what the fuck) was SOOOOO GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD

the cursed dice angle is so good, the way the statement giver took on that role (roll), played the part, UGH it's so fun. the theme of choice that was brought up is also so good- just. ONE more roll for old time's sake :) especially given that this is a TMI statement and how HUGE IMPORTANT of a theme choice and free will were in tma, felt very fitting. fantastic, loved that.

continuing on my stuff about the entities in tmagp- once again some things here feel very on the nose, particularly the statement giver literally calling himself a mysterious stranger. this feels like a fun little red herring to me, for people a bit hung up on the entities stuff. that's how i interpreted it, anyways. i wanna know more about this world so fucking bad, dude.

also, the institute's in manchester in tmagp, not chelsea/london. which means no milbank prison, no panopticon. interesting. (though soemthing that was known from the arg already- i really need to deep dive on that. tomorrow, maybe.) statement taking and artifact storage are still a thing, evidently, but noting that there's no mention of an archivist or anything like that. and the subject/agent/catalyst stuff, that's Very interesting.

once again, chester bringing up a magnus-related statement, here in obvious reply to what sam was talking about- just when he was considering to celia about dropping his investigations- clearly (imo) to goad him into not leaving it behind. excellent. and fun given the first TMI-related incident with redcanary had the obvious conclusion of THE MAGNUS INSTITUTE IS WEIRD AND DANGEROUS while also having enough mystery to draw sam in further. sam's seen the canary die in the coalmine and has made the decision to keep digging and that's fantastic.

now! characters! sam's paperwork :) VERY intriguing that he's getting all this stuff and celia's got none of it- he said it was due to that box about the response department, but i've got my doubts about that being the reason he's being saddled with all this weird stuff. also the questions on the thing made me laugh, very good. sam and celia have such good interactions, i love how they bounce off each other. also, with regards to the paperwork- i think there's a connection to be made about the statement giver's continued rolling of the dice (it always felt like my choice.) and sam filling out all this creepy, utterly pointless paperwork to "refuse to give it the satisfaction of giving up".

GWEN AND LENA. nigel dickerson, you know, from tv? possibly. i don't watch television. i do hope we'll be seeing exactly what gwen is being told to do next episode.. delivering something, keeping calm, recording the detailed reactions to what's being delivered. maybe we'll get a bit more of a clue as to what the oair is actually for. i do like that gwen's not become one bit less indignant, skeptical, and disrespectful towards lena now that she's got this job. i'm very excited to see her on her fist job she's gonna suck at it i think

i'll admit i was a little surprised to see teddy again. i was worried for a sec he might be going in the direction of getting dragged back to the oair, but nah. not yet, at least :) and ALICE. ALIIIIICE auaaaaagh!!! i don't know if i have much to say baout this part that isn't just (shaking a plushie in my mouth like a dog). very neat that she has agreed to help sam investigate this and actually go to the institute when she's been so staunchly don't get caught up in the creepy stuff! leave the magnus institute stuff ALONE you don't want to get into this spooky shit! like.. she does not want to get involved with spooky shit and she doesn't want sam to get involved with spooky shit but she cares about him and their friendship a lot and this is obviously important to him. so. (plus, the thing about alice's brother having been at the institute alongside sam and gerry..) i like them both so much. i am so excited for next weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek

#tmagp #tmagp spoilers

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tcshi · 2 years

Text

nagi seishiro.

“you promised that you’ll go this year.”

nagi looks almost offended when you chastised him, recalling his promise from last year. last year when he’d barely shown any sympathy towards skipping the JFA yearly gala to which earned him not only an earful from his management, questions being asked by his fans about his absence but also your own constant reminder that he will be attending the next year’s party.

truth to be told, nagi could give two flying fucks about the JFA gala. he couldn't really be bothered dressing up in expensive tailored suits catered just for him to wear, pose for a few photos at the red carpet then sit or mingle with the others for all night long when he’s got the softest bed in the world, a warm duvet, the squishiest pillows in existence and a very cuddly girlfriend (10/10, would definitely recommend) waiting for him at home.

at 23 years old his hobby of playing online games still haven’t changed neither did his need to laze around because for him, putting more work than what he’s already doing was a tire. sure he’s more motivated and does things with more vigor in comparison to when he was young but his outlook for doing too much stayed the same. why do those extra, exhausting things outside of football when he could use that to rest instead? he just doesn’t get it.

“but i don’t feel good,” nagi pouts, half-lidded eyes staring back at you beckoning you to sympathize with him but you don’t. instead, you shoot him an unamused look.

“you’re literally sitting in front of your PC set up with your games,” you deadpan. “you’ve been there for six hours now sei. you need to do your fitting for tomorrow’s event.”

nagi sighs heavily, draping his 6 foot something figure over his swivel chair, the pout not once leaving his lips.

“but it’s tiresome to deal with. i don't wanna...”

you take your phone from your pocket, opening the last message isagi sent you.

“they already had your suit all sewn up,” you show him your phone as you stood by his gaming chair. “see? you’d look so good in this suit sei, that's why you need to attend.”

your effort to push your boyfriend into agreeing fell deaf in his ears, instead nagi takes this opportunity to drag you by your hips and pulling you down to sit on his lap sideways. you wrap an arm around his neck, feeling his cheek nuzzling against your chest as you face your phone screen in front of him.

“you’d look so good in a white armani suit sei.”

“i still don’t wanna go...”

you sigh and began playing with hair on his nape. “but seeeeeeeei... you need to go to make up for missing last year’s gala. your fans wouldn't be happy seeing you nowhere.”

“i can just post something online... say i’m feeling unwell or something...” he drags, unfortunately still not showing any interest of going.

you stare at him, incredulous and very much unamused. you knew first hand that your boyfriend tend to care less about certain things at certain levels but even then, you did firmly believe you could get him to attend the JFA gala. it's exactly the reason why you promised reo that nagi will be attending this year.

“but you are well.” you pressed, shutting your phone and haphazardly throwing it on your bed. you bury your face in nagi’s side of the head, feeling the cold brush of his fingertips running up and down your now sides. “come on sei, what would it take you to attend?”

nagi turns silent for a few moments. the lingering silence making you conjure up more thoughts on how to persuade your boyfriend to the point where you thought of revoking his privileges in the bedroom for the rest of the year if he didn't go. however, that does not seem to be needed when nagi spoke again.

“where are the others right now anyways?”

you try to recall your conversation over the phone with reo the very night prior. because of course, nagi would choose the closest day to the event to turn his phone off completely. he did the exact same thing last year too.

“they will be at the shop in an hour for the last fitting arrangements,” you tell him, pointedly. “i don't know their current whereabouts.”

nagi’s eyes narrow. a flash of mischief passing by his nonchalant gaze, one that you completely missed.

“okay...” he heaves a deep sigh while rubbing circles against your hip. “i have two prepositions, all you have to do is to agree to all of them and then i’ll go.”

from experience, bargaining with nagi wasn't necessarily vexing for you. he did ask for simple things in exchange to agreeing to whatever it is that you initially proposed, not seemingly very calculative with his decisions except it all fell down into his favor. but right now, seeing the slight mischievous tilt of his lips and the slow drag of his eyes running over your body made you think otherwise. this was not gonna be something simple as rubbing his head until he falls asleep or pressing the knots on his back after a rigorous practice.

you quirk a brow. “alright. what's your deal?”

“first, is that you will attend the gala as my date meaning you'll have to come with me to the fittings, we'll get you a dress for tomorrow. second...” nagi’s tender touches on your skin firmed, the haze in his eyes darkening as he licks his lips. he stares at you straight in the eyes as he utters the next words. “fuck me before we leave. we have an hour left right?”

in the end, you had trouble finding the right dress to wear at the gala. the boys sending you confused, worried yet knowing looks seeing you wobble on your feet as you stood. oh, dare they mention the litter of hickeys on your neck and thighs?

#☆ . ༄ marked : blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi x reader #seishiro x reader #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock scenarios #bllk fanfiction #bllk scenarios

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vent-channel · 21 days

Text

I hate being autistic I’m not gonna lie.

Today it was leavers. I only go into school for exams and I can’t handle assembly halls so I wasn’t there. My friends were though. And they sent plenty of pictures on the group chat of them in the fields after shirt signing, and them in the park after school.

Why can’t I be fucking happy like that? Why don’t I get to do a normal school life? Why don’t I get to do leavers assembly and shirt signing? And it’s not as simple as just going in even though I hate it. At first I was happy I never had to go back to it, but I’m becoming disconnected from my friends. I’m lonely. And I feel like I’m missing out. I always feel like I’m missing out.

Am I jealous? I feel a bit like a bad person complaining about my friends happiness. It seems like they don’t even miss me. I missed them, when they were not at school.

I got therapy and an autism diagnosis and basically got told my life will fucking suck forever but it’s fineeee because I can learn to manage it.

I’m missing school and my parents can’t just tell me to get over it and go because I need an education because I will sit in the toilets and cut myself until I feel dizzy and call them to pick me up. Whenever I go to that place I feel sick. I feel like anybody would jump me if I’m not cautious enough. They probably would, if there were not consequences, most people there have a disgusting moral compass.

I wish I was still suicidal? Can someone give me less fucking reasons to live because I have far too many. I hate that I’m technically getting better because I’m getting worse. Now the damage is irreversible and irreparable but at least I’m recovering, right?

I’m so lonely. Whenever my friends even look at me and wave I get so happy I internally shut down so I can’t return the enthusiasm. I’ve realised though that I’ll always be the ones following them around. They won’t walk to catch up to me, they won’t invite me to conversation. I don’t know if it’s my own insecurities but it really really feels like they don’t want me there or don’t realise I am there. I feel like a pity friend, I’m only there because I’m nicer than the rest of the school population but I’m nowhere near as cool and confident as the rest of them.

I can’t handle it. I’m naturally self-centred. I often switch between feeling like the best person and the whole conversation should revolve around me to feeling like everyone hates me probably because I’m so selfish and ugly and naturally disgusting. My expressions don’t fit on my face, I’m constantly depressed. I don’t even share many interests with them anymore.

I was at a local comic con a few weeks ago. I met up with my ‘con friends’ who I rarely see. I only stayed for a while because of my fucking autism again I’m missing out, but they seemed so sad when I left. One of them made a TikTok with me in it. We took a photo together. And when they were sad I left I wanted to cry because that’s so kind. They wanted me around? Me?

I’m going to a birthday party for one of my main friends on Saturday. He asked me if I was coming so I did because of course I want to be there. But does he even fucking want me there? I said I’d invite them over in the summer, do they even want to come? My other friend says he’ll sign my shirt if I come in tomorrow lunch, but I’m so depressed I’m not even sure I want to go. Now all I want to do is lie in bed and fucking eat gross shit and other stuff.

This has sent me into a super bad mood and idk what to do. Lowkey wanna relapse but it’s not gonna happen.

I’m so lonely. All my bonds are fading away. I’m so so so lonely.

I’m sick of fucking sitting in my bed, but it’s my favourite thing to do.

All this just because my friends took some pictures looking happy. I’m fighting the urge to just leave the group chat. I can’t let these stupid insecurities and instability show itself to others. I never tell anyone irl these things. Not even my therapist will hear about this. I’m ashamed and I fucking hate having and talking about my feelings.

Love y’all enjoy this bs lol x

#vent post #sh trigger #autism #mental problems #vent blog #actually autistic #fatigue #friendship problems #autistic things #autistic #personal vent #I probably have problems #but they aren’t diagnosable so it doesn’t matter lol #I’m not eugenicist just sad can we look for a cure lol?#/j I do not believe in that #tw s3lf harm #disabled #disability

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utilitycaster · 1 year

Note

What are your honest, unfiltered thoughts about everything going on currently with this “are the gods really good and necessary” line of thought the latest cr episode has been tackling, both in terms of your feelings on the subject in general and also how it’s being portrayed/discussed.

I don't agree with the idea of gods using mortals as batteries - I don't actually think we have any official canonical support that the prime deities (or, presumably, betrayer gods) do need worship to sustain them - but in terms of a conversation being had I don't actually mind it because the general attitude among Bells Hells and among Deanna and FRIDA is "does it really matter how important the gods are? Actively unleashing them seems like a cataclysmically bad idea." It's actually really interesting to me that this is the focus! A lot of D&D in which there are divine entities explores religion and faith in a scenario where the existence of gods is unquestionable. This is instead exploring whether it's legitimate to destroy something simply for not being important to you personally.

I'd also add that what Deanna is saying and how she's acting are not always in sync - which to be clear I believe to be a deliberate choice from Aabria in her portrayal. Like, I think it's obvious that Deanna has complicated feelings towards the Dawnfather, but that's the key - there are positive and negative feelings, and when she says "batteries" there is a symbiosis here, not a simple "they're using us and controlling us".

Just to give a brief overview of where I am personally coming from, like, IRL, philosophically: I'm Jewish, and my personal religious practice is heavily focused far more on what one does rather than what one believes, which I feel fits very well with Bells Hells. The Yom Kippur service, which one reads while fasting and spending a day in prayer, actively includes a reading (from Isaiah) that boils down to "It's cool that you're fasting right now but if, tomorrow, you go back to engaging actively in systems of oppression that you have the power to fight against, this was all meaningless and performative."

This covers two things I feel very strongly about religion and morality: First, actions speak way louder than words and religious observance should serve as a reminder of what you need to be doing during the rest of your life, ie, you can't show up at your place of worship with an attitude of "ok cool gonna cleanse my soul and then it's ALLLLLL fixed and I can go back to kicking puppies". Religious services, should you choose to attend them, are more about the meditative process of setting one's intent via symbolic rituals, but really, it matters way more that you are not a fucking dickhead in the rest of your life. And second, you, as a mortal finite being who is not a god have the power to throw off these systems of oppression, because in a world where divine entities step in constantly, we as mortals do simply become mindless puppets, and that would suck.

Which I should note also means that one's issues with an organized religion must be taken up with the mortal leaders of that institution. I mean, in our real world, if you are an atheist, I think that's a completely valid belief, but also, in the end, it does not matter if or if not there is any cosmic entity or higher power. If you're an edgy FACTS NOT FEELINGS neckbeard 4chan atheist bigot, or a hard-right evangelical bigot? the bigotry is what matters. The existence of deities is a moot point. What people are being shitty? How do you stop them? You are welcome to overlay religion if it helps or avoid it if it doesn't. Like, one last note re: Jewishness, which is that there's a parable that a guy once said "I will convert to Judaism if you can teach me the entire Torah while I stand on one foot," and the first rabbi he asks scoffs and sends him off, and the second tells him the golden rule ("that which is hateful to you, do not do unto your neighbor") and it's fucking great not just because it's a good moral principle, but because it also removes religion from the equation. If this guy were scamming you? You've given him some solid advice at no cost to yourself that requires no adherence to any religion. If he were in earnest? You met his conditions.

Another relevant way to put this: The oft-used but really good Brennan quote! " 'On the level of individuals and civilizations, personality predates ideology.' Meaning that before you were a fascist, you were a bully and an asshole." Replace fascist with hateful religious right-winger; it's not about god, it's about a system that lets you feel justified in hating other people for who they are or like you're getting a reward for not doing stuff you weren't interested in anyway.

So uh, getting back to CR, it's interesting in that it's managed to recreate the real-world argument in D&D. I happen to prefer stories in which characters are actively engaging with deities in a positive manner, as we've seen with say, Pike, or Vax, or Fjord, or Caduceus, or Jester, or Yasha. However, in the end, all the theological arguments are purely academic. The point is that no one's controlling the Vanguard - Tuldus's quarrel is with his abusive family, not their gods. Ludinus says he's mad the gods didn't step in to stop the Calamity...but in many ways the Calamity happened because the gods let the people have free rein. If the gods stop everything bad from happening, how far do they go? Sure, stop the Calamity. Do they stop every individual accidental death? Do they stop all wars? What happens if they slip up? Can they slip up? It's an inherently contradictory spiral if you start getting into this - are you saying the gods are perfect and infallible and choose not to use this, in which case, wouldn't that make them fallible? If the gods are actually powerful enough to constantly control you, why are you openly talking about their destruction and Kord hasn't vaporized you with a bolt from the blue?

And you can tell this because the only arguments that matter in the end are people like Orym and Ashton saying "I don't fucking know about the gods, but these guys are murdering innocents, which seems really bad." Like, sure, I'd like to see some more for lack of a better term traditional clerics or paladins pop up, or someone with a high religion score who can talk through the theology, but it's kind of nice to have a story where most people are like "I can take or leave the gods, but actively unleashing an even more powerful entity to kill them seems dumb and unnecessary" and I think that argument is ultimately more successful than a head-on discussion of the role of the gods.

#answered #Anonymous #critical role spoilers

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lowkeyerror · 2 years

Text

Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better

Quinn Fabray x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Forced outting

Summary: As Rachel Berry's sister you naturally get fed up with her big ego. You finally decide to knock her down a couple pegs. ( Not my gif)

Pt2

Masterlist

If you were a character in a movie, you'd be Ryan Evans from Kenny Ortega hit teen movie series High School Musical. There were a few things that made you akin to Ryan Evans.

The first connection was your sister, Rachel Berry. She had to be the focal point of everything she did. All she wanted to do was be in the spotlight at any possible expense. Whether you liked it or not, you'd be a part of that journey.

The second was that you were incredibly gay. Which meant that you had to be hopelessly in love with a girl that wasn't interested in you; Quinn Fabray.

" Alright, everybody, this week's lesson is a classic; duets. As always, winners get a free dinner at Breadsticks."

Rachel raises her hand," Mr. Schue, is this the time you finally let us pick our own partners? Because if not, I think I'd like to campaign to have either Finn or Y/n as my partner."

" What a big surprise?" Santana mocks her.

" Unfortunately Rachel, you won't be picking your partners, but neither will I. It's up to fate," he brought out a fedora and the whole class groaned.

Rachel was already bolting out of her seat and confidently reaching her hand in the hat. She pulled out the piece of paper and smiled widely," Finn, I guess fate is on my side."

" Who's next?"

Quinn stood in her cheerios uniform, volunteering herself. She pulled a name out of the hat and locked eyes with you," I got Berry, the better one."

You could hear Rachel huffing besides you as Finn said something to defend his girlfriend. However, you didn't really care, your mind was racing. You'd be doing a duet with Quinn, and that's the only thing you could focus on.

Everyone picked partners and kind of broke off into those pairs. You slowly made your way to Quinn, taking a seat next to her.

" So, what were you thinking for our duet?"

You shrugged," Whatever you want is fine."

Quinn chuckles dryly," Let me guess, Rachel usually chooses, and you just sing along."

She wasn't saying it as an insult, just an observation," Ya usually."

" Well, then maybe it's time for you to take advantage of not working with her. You take the lead, and I'll follow," Quinn looks at you, awaiting your response.

" I- uh okay? It would be easier to pick a song that already has two parts…"

" But that doesn't sound like what you want to do," Quinn interjects.

You laugh a little," I don't think so. I want something that fits both of our styles, and we could definitely incorporate some choreo. How do you feel about Billie Eilish?"

" Billie Bossa Nova?"

Your eyes light up," Ya, it's a cute, soft song. It matched well, and we can definitely throw in some like salsa moves or something."

Quinn starts humming the melody of the song, and you feel yourself melting," You're a genius Y/n."

" I don't know about all that, but we can practice at my place. Finn and Rachel will probably take over upstairs, but that's what the downstairs den is for. Does tomorrow work for you?"

" It's a date, Berry. See you then," Quinn winks at you before leaving the room.

You couldn't leave until Rachel was ready. On the way home, she was going on a mile a minute about her and Finn's duet.

" So what about you and Quinn?"

You blinked a few times before parking the car in front of your house," We have the song, we just need to arrange it and figure out some choreo."

Rachel makes a face," Well, I suppose as long as a Berry wins, we'll both be winning."

She got out of the car, and for once you stormed after her," What is that supposed to mean?"

" Nothing, nothing, it's just you know. Some of us are more prepared for these things than others."

You rolled your eyes," You don't think I can beat you, do you?"

Her eyes widened," Well, I- I never said that."

You laugh," You're so full of yourself, Rachel, I swear. We have the same DNA, the same training, the same routine, the same upbringing."

" You may have all of that, but I have a natural star power that we both know you don't have."

You glared at your sister," Tomorrow, me and you, diva off during glee club."

" If you want to embarrass yourself in front of everyone, be my guest," Rachel says.

" Anything You Can Do, Annie Get Your Gun."

Rachel smiles," You don't have the voice."

" We'll see," you leave her with that, headed straight for the den downstairs.

" That didn't sound too good, sweetheart," your dad's voice catches you off guard.

" It's just Rachel being herself," you plop down on the couch.

He pushes up his glasses," She doesn't mean it."

You shake your head," Oh no, but she does. She thinks she's so much better than me, and tomorrow I'll prove to her just how much of the spotlight I let her have."

Hiram looks pensive for a moment," It won't hurt her to be humbled, I suppose. She gets it from your dad."

You laugh at his words," I'll beat her in the diva off and then Quinn and I will wipe the floor with her and Finn. She'll be feeling humble for weeks to come."

The news of the diva off had spread quickly through the glee club. The next day at school, you had everyone bombarding you about it.

" So you're finally standing up to her. I know that's right Y/n, knock her down a few pegs," Mercedes strides by your side in the hallway.

" It's about time off brand Barbara learned a thing or two, especially from you," Santana popped up on your other side.

Brittany was attached to her hip," A Berry fight to the death. There can only be one winner."

You laughed at the blonde's words. It was then you saw Finn, Rachel, Kurt, and Blaine across the hall. You had no nerves, you knew that you could beat Rachel.

Quinn stepped into your viewpoint, gaining your attention," Is it true about the diva off?"

You nodded," It's time the better Berry finally lived up to the nickname."

The cheerio's hand slid across your shoulder," I'm rooting for you," then she continued down the hall.

As soon as school was over, you headed straight for glee club. The students there were already taking bets on who would win. Rachel was already there, so you deliberately sat as far away from her as possible.

Mr. Schue walked in the classroom," So, I heard we had a little diva off slash duet happening today. The Berry sisters are going to show us how it's done."

" I hate to say it, but Rachel is going to destroy Y/n," Artie said, and a few murmurs of agreement were heard. Rachel plastered a big smug smile on her face at the reaction.

" Artie, when I win, I expect an apology," you stood up from your seat and approached the middle of the room.

Rachel strutted her way down the stairs and stopped in front of you.

A chorus of Oooo's rang out, but you didn't let them bother you. It was your time to shine and for once, you wouldn't be overpowered by your sister.

Rachel started the song, as she always did. You followed impeccably. The fun of the song was definitely gone for the both of you. It was heated, and the glee club seemed almost shocked by your voice.

Rachel herself even seemed to underestimate you. She hit the high note flawlessly in the first verse, but you took over the long note in the second verse.

You found yourself one upping her basic choreography. Each step she did, you did, but elevated. That was the case until you did a flip off the stairs, which she couldn't possibly follow.

She tried to outbelt you on the last note, but instead of playing her game, you flipped it on her. Finishing the song in true Berry fashion with a huge high F at the end, just because you knew it would make her angry.

By the end of the song, you and Rachel were on opposite sides of the room. It seemed like you and Rachel were getting closer as the final notes came to an end.

Once the music cut, the two of you were standing face to face, breathing heavily. Rachel's eyes wide from your last note. The classroom was silent.

Then Artie spoke up," Y/n, I am so sincerely sorry."

That's when they broke out into cheers. Even Mr. Schue was stunned at your musical prowess.

" Y/n, oh my god. Where have you been hiding that voice?"

You smugly turn to your sister," Behind her massive ego."

" My performance was better than yours, and you know it," Rachel snarled at you.

" I hate to be the one to tell you this… wait, never mind I don't. It wasn't even close," a wicked grin takes over your features.

Rachel looks around the classroom for anyone to back her up, but no one meets her eyes, not even Finn.

" I-I'm a natur-"

" Natural talent? Then why are you so insecure, Rachel? You sent Sunshine to a crack house, you act like solos are a birthright, and then act like you've done them a favor when anyone else gets one, hell I know for a fact that Kurt can hit the high F just like I did. Everyone is letting you act like this because they don't care enough to shut you up."

Tears brim her eyes for a moment, but they stop as soon as they land on you. There's a new glare in her eyes, one full of malice and hatred," Oh, are we having truth time?"

Mr. Schue tries to cut her off," Hey guys, enough."

Rachel doesn't stop," Oh no, no, no, if she wants to embarrass me, I can embarrass her back. You're a lesbian, and you're in love with Quinn. Newsflash, she'll never love you back."

Your heart dropped when your sister spoke. She just outed you to the entire glee club.

" Rachel, that was low."

You didn't know who said it. Part of you hoped to never know. You didn't give her the satisfaction of running out of the classroom. So you calmly walked out, but before you left you looked at her with the coldest stare you could muster," You are the most heartless, self-centered, bitch I've ever met in my life. You aren't my sister, you're a fucking parasite."

You walked out after that.

The body tends to act on its own when in shock or traumatized. Your feet carried you to the top of the bleachers. The sunset from the field was beautiful. It's not until you let out a scraggly breath that you realized you were crying.

It hit you harshly. Your body began to shake as choked sobs came out of your mouth. With your elbows resting on your knees, your head fell into your hands.

" I knew it would be intense, but not like that."

You raised your head to see the captain of the cheerios.

" Oh baby," she sat down next to you and draped an arm over your shoulder. She made your head lean on her shoulder.

" I'm sorry," you don't know what compelled you to say it.

" Don't ever apologize for who you are," you stay silent," I like you like this."

Her thumb delicately wipes the tears from your face.

" You don't have to say that, Quinn."

Her thumb tilts your chin up," I mean it."

Quinn doesn't let any more time pass. She places her lips firmly against yours. Nothing, but certainty, in her movements.

It was a mixture of your salty tears and her cherry lip balm. You wanted to savor every second of it, just in case this was a dream.

When she stopped, you were warm like the sunset.

" Are you sure about this? You're already in the glee club, won't this ruin your reputation?"

Quinn kisses your forehead," I'm not Rachel, I don't care about my reputation more than I care about you."

You chuckle bitterly," Dinner is going to be awkward tonight."

" Am I still invited?"

You nod," I could definitely use the support with Rachel and Finn there."

Her fingers intertwined with yours," Well then I'm here for you."

You squeeze her hand," Thank you."

She kisses the back of your hand. The sunset illuminates the two of you on the bleachers. You'd probably never forgive Rachel, but this moment with Quinn almost made you want to thank her. Almost being the key word.

#lowkeyerror #quinn fabray x reader #quinn fabray #Quinn Fabray imagine #glee imagine #rachel berry

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sesamestreep · 2 months

Note

Crozier/Fitzjames, fake amnesia

from this list of reverse tropes for fic writers. i told @firstelevens I wasn’t sure I had it in me to write fic for these two and then I went and washed my hair and while I did that, this idea popped into my head fully formed and I was bound by honor to write it down. Also it’s the first thing my brain has wanted to write in like two months, so I took that as a good sign?? Anyway, here’s…something. Kind of a Parks and Rec AU?? but also not in any serious way? It’s like…what if these dudes from The Terror worked in local government or whatever… don’t worry about logistics, I mostly wanted to write Blanky and Crozier being best friends and also talk about sobriety feelings a bunch. AND THEN I DID. only fits the prompt if you squint super hard but, regardless, please enjoy… on ao3 because why not

“So, you feel ready to go back to work tomorrow?”

Francis removes his gaze with considerable effort from the perfect red orb that is the sun sinking steadily under the horizon line across the lake and shifts it reluctantly back to Tom, who’s sitting back in his chair with his booted foot propped up on a milk crate that he got from God knows where. The sight of the boot that encases the lower half of his left leg does push a wave of guilty bile up the back of his throat but he’s already been told that if he apologizes for causing Tom to have need of it one more time, he’ll be drowned in the aforementioned lake, so he resists. Tom knows Francis is sorry about what happened and he’s chosen to forgive him, even if Francis still thinks it’s a stupid choice, second only to him befriending Francis in the first place all those years ago. Francis doesn’t know where he himself would have ended up if that hadn’t happened, though, so it all comes out in the wash he supposes.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Francis says, tracing a hairline fracture in his coffee mug with his thumbnail just for something to do. “If I take any more time off, I’ll just never go back, so it’s now or never, really.”

“Attaboy,” Tom says before taking a long, thoughtful drink from his own mug. Out of solidarity, or maybe sensitivity, he hadn’t had anything to drink tonight either, despite Francis’s assurances that it wouldn’t bother him and might even be a good idea, just for him to get used to it. It’s not like he could reasonably expect to go the rest of his life without ever seeing alcohol again. He’d seen four different ads for light beer alone this afternoon while watching reruns of ‘Bones’ on the couch and imagining every possible way his first day back in the office after rehab could go wrong and that hadn’t sent him into a tailspin, so he’d probably survive watching his best friend drink in his presence. Still, Tom had chosen to just drink decaf coffee with him after dinner like the ancient relics they are, because he is, without a doubt, the best person Francis has ever known. “You talk to anybody about it? I mean, besides me…”

“What, you mean like a therapist? Of course. I’ve got, what, six of them now, for Christ’s sake!”

“No, I mean, from the office. Have you talked to anyone about coming back?”

“Well, John, obviously.”

“I suppose you’d have to, yeah,” Tom says, running a ponderous hand over his chin. “Anything interesting from that quarter?”

“Just about what you’d expect,” Francis says, trying to be generous. John had been kind enough to let him keep his job, after all, despite how bad things got in the end, but Francis’s issues with the man remain, even with his newfound sobriety. Francis had sent him a long, downright obsequious email apologizing for the damage he’d done with his drunken theatrics both over the years and in the very recent past and explained in detail all the ways he was going to do better in the future, while expressing gratitude for the unprecedented amount of grace everyone, but particularly John, had shown him during this stressful time. It was, in no uncertain terms, the most embarrassing thing Francis has ever had to do, and he has, in his life, proposed to the same woman three separate times with absolutely no success, so it’s not like he’s lacking in options for that top spot.

John is, thankfully, the sort of man who likes to breeze past unpleasantness wherever he can and is also, more importantly, a deeply entrenched bureaucrat who’d just as soon do no work as do even a little work and therefore could not be bothered to hire a replacement for Francis. In fact, if he had to guess, John was probably clever enough to frame it as some sort of protection against a discrimination lawsuit somewhere down the line, despite the fact that several things Francis did at the staff Christmas party right before hitting rock bottom were definitely fireable offenses. John’s unflappable dedication to the status quo has worked in Francis’s favor for once, and while he certainly doesn’t deserve the break, he’s going to take it where he can get it on the off chance it never happens again.

“And the staff? Your team, I mean.”

“I got coffee with a few of them individually, just to clear the air and apologize, so that if anyone wanted to take a swing at me, they could do it outside of work,” Francis says, scuffing his shoe against the porch.

“Well, that’s considerate of you. Any of them try it?”

“No. The cowards,” Francis scoffs, which makes Tom laugh. “Jopson and Edward both seemed like they might be sick at the prospect of anyone in charge actually deigning to apologize to them, which was…humbling, to say the least. Then I got an extremely nervous monologue from Harry about the history and relative efficacy of Alcoholics Anonymous, which I think was his way of saying we’re square. And Silna told me if I tried to meet up with her outside of work hours again, she’d block my number and quit without notice, so...”

“She’s got the right of it,” Tom says, with a crooked grin.

“Yeah, that was my favorite of the lot,” Francis replies. “We’ll have a team meeting tomorrow and we’ll get someone in from HR so everyone can talk about feelings, God help us, but I think it might be okay. Which I could not have predicted when all this started, but here we are.”

“I could have,” Tom says. “You’ve made plenty of mistakes, I grant you, but you’ve also done right by these people in a lot of ways. They’re not going to forget that in a hurry. They’re a loyal bunch.”

Francis nods, looking out over the water again. The pinks and golds of the sunset a few moments ago have already faded into purples and blues as night creeps in. The nocturnal chorus of frogs croaking and insects trilling is rising in the nearby woods. He’s already said his piece about how absurd it is that they’re sitting comfortably outside on the porch after dinner—with jackets on and a fire going, sure, but still—and it’s only the beginning of March. Tom doesn’t need to hear any more ranting about global warming right now; it’s no fair repayment of his generosity. What Francis really should do is head for home soon and let his friend have some peace and quiet. He could use some of that himself, but he somehow doubts that he’ll get much rest once he’s home for the evening. At least he can panic about tomorrow properly there, though, by himself.

“Speaking of throwing punches,” Tom says, carefully, after they’ve been quiet a moment, “have you spoken to James at all?”

Francis winces with what feels like his entire body. “I haven’t had the chance,” he says, as lightly as he can manage.

It isn’t precisely true. If he found the time to contact everyone else who’d been affected by his spectacular fall from grace during his leave of absence, he could have found the time to reach out to James too, but he hadn’t. The apology he owes James Fitzjames is too big for an email, which he’d, in a truly cowardly fashion, gotten away with for almost everyone else, and the presumption and humiliation of asking for any of his free time as he’d done with some of his subordinates was a bridge too far. Besides, if they’d met up at a coffee shop to talk things out, Francis has no doubt James would have ordered his drink with oat milk or stevia instead of sugar or mentioned a cleanse he was on and Francis would have rolled his eyes and said something awful and then he probably would have had to go to rehab all over again, which would have defeated the point. Francis has been told by outside observers—professionals in the field, for what it’s worth—that he’s making progress, but he’s even more sure that he’s still, at his core, a miserable old bastard. He’s just less miserable than he was before, by a small margin. Unfortunately, he’s not any less old, though. In fact, he’s older, but that’s beside the point.

“You’ll have to face him sooner or later,” Tom says, not quite gently but not as bullying as he could be either.

“I know,” Francis says, covering his face with his hands. “I’ll do it tomorrow. I mean, if anyone’s entitled to an in-person apology, it’s James, surely.”

“After you punched him in front of everyone at the Christmas party and verbally berated him? Yeah, I think something more than a text message might be in order.”

“You accepted an apology text,” Francis says, scowling into his mug. “And I broke your leg. You needed surgery and everything. I don’t even think I broke James’s nose.”

“Only because your aim sucks when you’re wasted,” Tom replies, unbothered. “Gave him quite the shiner, though, if you want to compare wounds.”

Francis sighs. “I already said I’d talk to him. You have my word.”

“What am I? Your bloody father?”

“No, and I like you a great deal better for it.”

“Good, then what do I need your word for?”

“I was just trying to convey my sincerity.”

“I don’t doubt your sincerity, Francis. Never have. It’s everyone else you need to convince.”

“I don’t know what to say to James,” Francis says, into his hands. “I mean, with you at least, we’ve known each other for ages. We can bounce back from quite a lot, it turns out. James, he’s—I’ve never known how to talk to him in the first place. Now I’ve got to do it sober? I don’t know where to start.”

“How about, ‘James, I’m sorry for trying to knock your lights out with an audience present while I was drunk off my ass on the company dime’ to start?”

Francis closes his eyes and leans back in his chair, letting the shame wash over him like a wave and then, more importantly, letting it recede like waves do. He sighs loudly and shakes his head.

“You know, I’ve always regretted I wasn’t the sort of drunk who forgets what he does when he’s wasted. Feels like it might be easier, ultimately. Like, I could say, ‘oh, sorry for whatever I might have done to you, James. The trouble is I don’t remember any of it, but I’m sure it’s nothing I would have done sober, all the same.’”

“Feigning amnesia?” Tom barks, laughing and looking at him sideways. “What’s that? The thirteenth step?”

“Leave me alone,” Francis replies, waving him off but laughing himself despite his best efforts. “I’ve done a lot of owning up to things lately. Can’t I keep one petty grievance for myself?”

“You could probably get away with it, if you’d left it as a petty grievance rather than escalating to violence. And your resistance to dealing with James should tell you making amends there is your highest priority. Discomfort is a good thing here, a signal you’re heading in the right direction. If it were all easy, everyone would do it, you know.”

“That’s lovely, Tom. Will you be cross-stitching any of these aphorisms onto pillows to remind me to stay the course, or shall I just memorize them for when times get tough?”

“Fuck off, you dusty old prick,” Tom laughs. “Hey, what about this? ‘James, I’m ever so sorry for getting plastered and calling you out in front of everyone and then attempting to rearrange your pretty face with my fist! I do think some of the blame lies in you being so pretty and in me having some unresolved issues around my masculinity and my self-esteem, all of which you can blame on my waste of a father figure growing up, but in this case, I suppose I have to shoulder some of the responsibility for my actions myself. Forgive me?’”

“There’s no one else on earth who could get away with saying even half those things to me, you know,” Francis says, even as his blood doesn’t boil or even heat in the slightest hearing them. It rushes to his face instead, no doubt resulting in a fierce blush that the gathering darkness mercifully hides from view.

“I earned it the hard way, my friend,” Tom says, patting his boot.

“That you did,” Francis says, and rises from his seat. “I’d better be going, then. Much to do, after all: apologies to draft, laundry to fold, worst case scenarios to spin out.”

Tom gets up with effort, clunky and inelegant in his boot, but not so proud as to decline Francis’s hand when it’s offered. “I wasn’t trying to scare you off,” he says once he’s vertical.

“You didn’t. It’s like I said, I’ve a lot to do before the big day.”

Tom nods and, after a moment of deliberation, puts a hand on Francis’s shoulder. “You’re a good man, you know.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Francis replies, shifting away from the praise. “More of a bad man trying to be better.”

Tom gives him a long look at that and then shakes his head, smiling. “All that work on yourself and you still don’t get it,” he says, not unkindly. “What else do you think a good man is?”

Francis doesn’t know, but he spends the whole ride home and the rest of the night thinking about it all the same.

Francis’s plan of attack, such as it even exists, takes form more easily than he could have predicted. Once he starts thinking about how best to approach James at work and make amends on that front, he finds he knows a lot more about the man than he originally thought. A few years working together, however contentiously, has been enough to pick up on each other’s habits and quirks well enough that Francis can reasonably predict when he’ll be able to get a moment of James’s time without anyone else around. The fact that he can do this and yet never thought to do it before under any other circumstances is the cause of another wave of shame that passes less quickly than Francis would like.

Francis arrives at the City Planner’s office just before 8:30 in the morning with the certainty that he won’t run into John—the man has many flaws but his dedication to never showing up to work any earlier than he absolutely needs to is not one of them, in Francis’s opinion—but that he will, in all likelihood, find James already there and more than likely already working. He also arrives with the materials for a bribe, should that prove necessary.

He’s so worked up, going through everything he’s planning to say one last time in his mind before he actually sees James, that he doesn’t think to knock on the outer door, which is sitting half-open anyway, and just barges in instead. It’s not a great start, he realizes a second after it’s too late to do anything else, and it’s made even worse by the fact that James is there, as expected, and he’s only partially in his shirt, which is not so expected. Francis stops and gapes for a moment with all the grace of someone who’s been tased.

“God, sorry,” he says, and tries to step back, only to collide with the door jamb. “I should’ve—”

“Francis, it’s—good morning, I—this isn’t—I’m the—I’m sorry,” James says, managing to sound crisp and self-possessed even when he’s stammering his way through an apology. “I don’t normally…do this…in the office, I mean.”

“No, of course not,” Francis says, behaving like a teenager in a romantic comedy for some reason and averting his eyes, even though there’s nothing to see. James was in the process of buttoning his shirt when he came in, so it’s really the sight of his clavicle that’s made Francis so uncomfortable. Was he always this much of a ninny? Is that why he started drinking, to cover it up? It’s the only explanation that makes any sense now.

“I went for a run this morning and I neglected to pack a shirt with my work clothes, so I had to use the spare I keep in my desk for emergencies.”

The old Francis (of several weeks and easily a thousand group sessions ago) would have rolled his eyes at any number of things in that small explanation: running to work, keeping a spare shirt in one’s desk, referring to anything related to fashion as an ‘emergency’ and meaning it. Now, he nods thoughtfully and tries to think of it all as part and parcel of what he respects and admires about James: his dedication and planning, his ability to anticipate and address future challenges. The fact that he looks nice in blue. Whatever. It turns out it’s easier to do than he imagined it would be.

“I don’t think you have a habit of undressing in the office for fun, James,” Francis says, instead of any of those nice things. “Don’t worry.”

“Right,” James says, lightly, even as his shoulders remain tense. He does up the last few buttons and his clavicle disappears under the taut poplin fabric of his dress shirt. “Well, what can I do for you, Francis?”

Francis has heard—and, in turn, mocked—James on any number of occasions start conversations with a smooth, ‘to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?’, which is not an expression Francis himself has been treated to in a long time and for good reason. He doesn’t know why he thinks of it now, except that he’d take even a sarcastic reference to the pleasure of his company (of which there is none and never has been for James in particular, he thinks) over the idea that James should do anything for him, at this point.

“You’re training, then?” Francis asks, skirting gracelessly around the question James actually posed. “For another one of the what-do-ya-call-em’s? Not a marathon. The thing you did last year…?”

“The Ironman,” James suggests, looking slightly pained. “It’s a triathlon.”

“Yeah, that sounds right. Another one of those?”

“God, no,” James replies, nose wrinkling slightly before he seems to catch himself doing it and intentionally blanks his expression. “I’m not likely to do another one of those. I already have my bragging rights, after all. Today’s run was just for health.”

“Oh, sure,” Francis says, tapping a fingertip nervously against the cardboard sleeve of his coffee cup. “I’m meant to be doing that now.”

“Running?” James asks, betraying some surprise, which is fair enough.

“Exercising. For my health. To keep me…”

“Fit?”

“Well, distracted,” Francis replies, with a shrug. “There seems to be some thought of it helping to keep me away from drink, though I’m not sure what the logic is there. But I’m meant to be thinking of something I’d enjoy, anyway.”

“Not running, then,” James says, brow crinkling like he’s giving the matter serious thought. James is a fixer by nature—and by profession, of course, being paid mostly to follow John around and make sure the grand promises that flow from his mouth actually happen somehow. He thrives with a problem to solve. If Francis were even marginally less stupid and less proud, he might have thought to come to James sooner. He’s nothing if not several very large problems wrapped in a trench coat. Or a wind breaker, in actuality. The point is, Francis could use all the fixing he can get his hands on.

“Not likely. Never enjoyed it, really. Hard on the ankles, I’ve found.”

“Yes, it can be quite stressful on the joints. You’ve got to take all sorts of precautions,” James says, in the tone he gets when he’s working his way up to a long treatise of some kind, but he stops abruptly and his face betrays that he’s seemingly caught himself. He clears his throat. “So, it’s not for everyone. I understand.”

“Yes, well, my sponsor was saying that I might try tennis or racquetball, but then I’d have to find a regular partner or group, and I’m not sure I have it in me.”

“There’s a club nearby, actually, and they could help you arrange—” James pauses and shakes his head, once again stopping himself from expounding on the different options available the way he normally would. It’s an uncharacteristic amount of restraint coming from James, who loves recommending things to other people almost as much as he loves the sound of his own voice. Francis sees some of his own handiwork in this new display of shame and feels the need to make amends even more keenly than before because of it. “Well, you can Google it, I imagine, and it would be faster than listening to me. It is, uh—it’s in Eagleton, however, so I suppose that won’t do.”

“No,” Francis replies, frowning. “Thanks all the same, though. I imagine I’ll end up doing water aerobics with the rest of the senior citizens at the community center and call it a day.”

“You’re not a—you’re barely fifty, Francis!”

“I’m fifty-two, actually.”

“Oh, well, in that case, I hope you have your affairs in order,” James gripes, as he messes with something entirely unnecessarily on his desk. Francis smiles at the strange comfort of annoying him, which should not be reassuring to him at all but he’s a messed up sort of fellow even on his best days. The smile grows when James clears his throat again and adds, like he can’t quite stop himself, “Swimming’s rather good for the joints, actually.”

“Swimming?” Francis asks.

“Yes, swimming. As in, laps…in a pool. Something else the community center offers, if you were interested. It’s solitary—meditative, even—and good exercise. In—that is, in case you were wondering.”

“If this is you trying to talk me into a triathlon, James—”

James sniffs, more performatively haughty than genuinely haughty, Francis suspects. “I’d never,” he says. “I was merely recommending an activity that you might enjoy more than water aerobics, and that might spare the elderly of our community from dealing your obvious personality disorder early in the morning, when those classes tend to be held.”

Francis, much to James’s surprise from the look on his face, laughs at that. “I’ll take that under advisement,” he says, while James continues to regard him like he’s wild animal exhibiting signs of rabies who’s suddenly appeared in his path, which is maybe a common occurrence in town, depending on who you ask. “Thank you.”

James nods, distracted. “Sure.”

“Well, I—I…listen, I didn’t come here to talk about exercise regimes, which I figure you could have guessed,” Francis says, in a rush, because anything less than a headlong dive into the subject they need to discuss will hurt much worse than just getting it over with, he suspects. “And I don’t want to presume anything about your life, but I also figure there’s a non-zero chance that you’re already familiar with the famous 12 step program, maybe just through cultural osmosis, and I don’t want to over explain any of it to you, but, well, there’s a pretty important part about identifying people you’ve wronged through your addiction and the resulting behavior and making direct amends to said try people and—”

“I’m familiar,” James interrupts, softly. “Not directly, of course, or, um, anything like that—I don’t want to detract—but—”

Francis waves him off. “No need to explain. I just—well, obviously, that list of people, for me, had to include you, because of what transpired between us at the end of last year and how I behaved. The things I said to you, then—how I’ve always spoken to you, really—and of course, I—God, I’m so sorry. It feels absurd to say out loud but I’m sorry for lashing out at you and hitting you, I should never have—”

“It’s fine, Francis,” James says, starchily. He’s got a nervous hand pressed to his ribcage, so intently that it’s almost shocking to look and see no actual knife sticking out from there, somehow. With that, it’s hard to believe the breeziness of his words. “Really, this isn’t necessary.”

“And I’m telling you it is,” Francis explains, as carefully as he can manage. “Maybe it isn’t for you, I don’t know, but it’s necessary for me. Do you—can you understand that?”

“Yes, I’m sorry,” James says, after a deep breath. “Of course. Is there…more?”

“You tell me. Is there any other ways my drinking harmed you that I haven’t thought of?”

“No, I wasn’t—”

Francis holds up a hand to stop him. “That probably read as very sarcastic, given our…history, let’s say, but it was a genuine question. I think I’ve raked myself over the coals for every possible slight I can imagine but if there’s anything I did that I can address for you now, I’d have you tell me.”

“No, it’s fine, really,” James replies, shakily. “I only meant, I don’t really know what goes into all this. Is amends just an apology or is there more to it? I don’t need there to be, I was just curious. That’s all.”

“Well, you’re meant to endeavor to show you’ve changed your ways, I suppose. To indicate that you won’t be perpetuating the same harm in the future. Which, in this case, is tough, because…well, I mean, all I can give you is my word I won’t try to knock you out at work ever again.”

“Outside of work hours, however…” James muses, with a small, mirthless smile.

Francis winces, but otherwise doesn’t react. “I’ll never behave that way towards you again. On my honor, for whatever that’s worth.”

James folds his arms over his chest and looks down at the carpet, appearing like a sullen youth for a brief moment before he raises his gaze and becomes a grown man once more. Francis remembers when he’d shown up with John that first time, how he’d called James an infant to Tom when they finished their initial meeting with him about the town’s budget crisis all those years ago. Tom had laughed at him, wheezing ‘he’s a decade younger than us, if he’s anything, Francis. He’s our bloody peer now, and if you don’t see it, you’re cracked!’ Francis thought—still thinks—Tom is the one who’s cracked, in this case. James looked young, then; he looks young now, everywhere except the eyes, which contain a stormy sea’s worth of disappointment. Francis can be self-centered with the best of them but he knows he’s not the one who put that feeling there in the first place. He’s not that important. For the first time, however, he feels protective of the man in front of him because of it and takes it as his very solemn duty to never be the cause of his disappointment again, so long as it can be helped. All that and it’s not even 9 in the morning yet.

“It’s worth plenty,” James says, eventually, clearly just as uncomfortable with this much emotion so early in the day as Francis is and eager to be done with it. “Thank you, Francis.”

“Yes, well, I won’t take up any more of your time, I’ve been nuisance enough for one morning, but if there’s ever anything you want to discuss or clear up between us, my door’s always open. To you, that is. Well, to anyone, but just in case your particular welcome was unclear, I mean, you should—”

James sweeps a hand out wide in a graceful gesture like he’s literally clearing the air. “Understood,” he says, sincerely, “and appreciated.”

“Great,” Francis says, too cheerily and then winces again. “I mean, uh—right, I’ll just be going then.”

As he pivots back towards the door, the sloshing noise of the ice shifting in one of the cups he’d forgotten he was holding draws his attention. Christ, right. The whole point was—Francis really is starting to lose his mind. He contemplates just leaving anyway, like nothing’s amiss, but he’ll have to explain the two drinks to his team, absolutely none of whom will buy that the iced chai is for him. He’s gone on too many rants about how coffee shouldn’t be iced and tea only on certain occasions. He’s the type to drink hot, black coffee even on the most brutal summer days, though his sponsor did warn him that a lot of alcoholics do turn to sweets as a coping mechanism for replacing alcohol in their daily lives and not to be surprised if he found himself needing additional sweetener in his morning coffee as a result. Francis hadn’t credited it at the time, but he had found himself momentarily tempted at the coffee shop this morning by a sign advertising something called a ‘death by chocolate latte’ as the daily special before he’d gotten a hold of himself, so maybe there’s some truth to it. The point is, dragging this extra drink back to his office will be more humiliating than turning around and giving it to James like he originally planned, no matter how awkward it feels right now.

“Okay,” he says, turning back, “I promise this is the last thing and then I will let you get back to work. There’s, uh—it’s not a bribe, mind you, just an extension of the apology for what happened and for the fact that you’ll have to continue working with me for the foreseeable future and—you don’t have to forgive me, you don’t owe me that, I just thought—”

James looks at him, utterly perplexed, fingertips gently steepled on the top of the desk like he’d already been going back to whatever he was working on when Francis interrupted again. “What is it?” he asks, somehow still not betraying any annoyance at the interruption, hiding it well under an open tone of curiosity.

“The—this,” Francis finally spits out with considerable effort, holding the cup out towards James, rather than try to explain himself further. “It’s for you.”

“Oh,” James replies, with an expression like Francis is trying to hand him a live gerbil and not an upsettingly overpriced beverage like the ones he’s seen James drink on dozens of occasions. “I, uh—that’s really not necessary.”

“You must take it, James. Please. I said you’re not obligated to forgive me, I’m not trying to sway you, really. It just felt wrong to show up empty handed, after everything.”

“I understand, but, really—”

“You’re not on another one of your cleanses, are you? Giving up sugar or…calories before noon or something?” Francis ventures, imbuing his tone with more patience than he normally would, even though he still feels very little towards this thing in particular.

James is already so annoyingly healthy and brisk and handsome, it does take extraordinary amounts of patience to tolerate his talk of intermittent fasting and green juice with the goal of making himself even more annoyingly perfect. Surely, there’s got to be a limit to that sort of thing, but Francis doesn’t know; he’s on the opposite end of the spectrum it seems, having to re-learn the fundamentals of barely looking after himself in middle age without the aid of alcohol. It’s pretty grim, if he’s being honest. It really is no wonder that James has been so consistently earning the gold medal spot in the competitive sport of getting on Francis’s nerves, with that in mind.

His intentional gentleness does seem to pay off in this case, though, since James smiles at him in only mild embarrassment. “Uh, no, I’m not. I just—you’re not obliged to—”

“I know, but—listen, James, I already committed my penance by having to say the phrase ‘dirty chai’ with a straight face to a college student with a lip piercing at eight in the morning, okay? The damage is done. You might as well enjoy the spoils of my humiliation.”

James’s smile widens at that, looking for all the world like he can’t really stop himself. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but that mental image might be worth more to me than the entirety of your apology.”

“No offense taken,” Francis says, finally succeeding in handing off the cup, slick with condensation by now, into James’s care. “I hope it will sustain you for a while yet.”

“Oh, it shall,” James says, placing the cup gingerly onto his desk.

“Right, well,” Francis replies, “that’s all, then. I’ll see you…later, I suppose.”

James nods. “We have a meeting set for Tuesday—tomorrow. It should be on your calendar. Thomas said he—”

“If Jopson says it’s there, it’s there.”

“Great,” James says, easily. “Until then.”

“Yes. ‘Til tomorrow.”

Mission completed, Francis turns once more towards the door and is only interrupted in leaving by the sound of James clearing his throat behind him. He pauses, and looks over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows in question when he meets James’s eye.

“It’s only—forgive me if this is the wrong thing to say, under the circumstances,” James offers, fidgeting with the edge of the notepad lying open on his desk, “but you do—that is, you look well, Francis.”

Francis doesn’t allow himself the liberty of moving even an inch, not to fiddle with his collar or brush back his hair or otherwise indicate he gives so much as one singular damn about his appearance. “Do I?” he asks, tone purposely vague, like James has just told him the weather forecast and it’s only interesting to him in theory, really.

“Yes, very well,” James says, putting his hand flat on the desk very deliberately, like it was giving him away before. At what, who knows, but he’s got it under control now. “This change, it suits you.”

“Well, thank you, I guess.”

James now looks at his computer screen, absently. The next words he says might be something he was reading off of there, if they were anything else. “You look good, is what I meant.”

“How—?” Francis pauses, feeling immense pressure to say this right, somehow. “Sorry, but how would that be the wrong thing to say?”

“I wouldn’t want you to think, well—” James interrupts himself by laughing, just a little and rather joylessly. “It’s not that you didn’t look good before.”

“Oh, right,” Francis says, even as those words continue to make no sense to him in that particular order coming from this particular person. “Wait, you’re saying—I did?”

James meets his eye again, finally, but only to give him the most impatient, long-suffering look in human history. “Is it too much to hope that one of the twelve steps involves learning to take a compliment?” he asks, sounding depleted by the effort. “Because it is one of your most exhausting qualities that you can’t do so without endless interrogation first.”

“And it’s got a lot of competition,” Francis replies, feeling himself smile and choosing to do nothing to stop it, “what with all my other exhausting qualities.”

“You’re really only proving my point here, you know.”

“Thank you, James,” Francis says, dutifully. “It’s very kind of you to say. Better?”

“Much,” James sighs. “You’re showing remarkable improvement already.”

Francis leaves him, then, because to stay any longer would just be exposing himself to further ridicule and he’d absolutely deserve it, what with the stupid smile he now can’t seem to get rid of.

#lmao zainab's exact words when we talked about this prompt were 'i'm in my slightly confused but supportive parental energy era'#my madness is being indulged so patiently #anyway this has been stressing me out for a month now just take it away from me!!!#the terror #the terror amc #fitzier #francis crozier #james fitzjames #thomas blanky #writing prompt #reverse fanfic tropes prompts #god i've forgotten how to even tag writing anymore...#firstelevens #homelywenchsociety #that's my writing tag! don't worry about it!#prompt fill #as always when i come up with a silly au for something i'm like 'i don't know how everyone fits in i haven't thought about it at all'#except i am always lying because i always know #most important part of this AU is that tunbaaq is The Pit #and ross is mark brendana-quits #and that's most of what you need to know #please join me in imagining all of the truly absurd parks plotlines i can shove these idiots into #my favorite that i've thought of so far is forcing james and silna into ben and april's plotline of getting stuck in a parking garage #traffic jam together for hours #i just think it would break them you know?? and that's fun #anyway....

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only-lonely-stars · 2 months

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A Shintaran Gala

Oneshot – (FFN) (AO3)

Summary:

In Shintaro, a gala is hosted every year to celebrate the holiday season. Vania looks forward to it every year, and now that she is the one to host it, she's invited Cole, her dearest friend, to join her. However, both of them know they want something more than friendship, if they could only find the words to tell each other.

Cole Brookstone stood in his room, adjusting his suit in front of the mirror, feeling like something was off. He tied his tie, then retied it, finally getting it tidy, but still felt wrong. He finger-combed his hair into place for the millionth time, getting the sweep away from his face perfect, but it still wasn't good enough. He straightened his jacket, making it hang just right, but it didn't fix the problem. Finally, he groaned and left the room, knocking on Jay's door.

"Jay? Can you help me out for a sec?"

"Come on in!" Jay called. Cole opened the door to see him sitting on the floor, mashing buttons on a controller as enemies went flying in Prime Empire. When he heard Cole come in, he paused the game and looked up. "Woah, what's with the suit? You going to dinner with your dad or something?"

Cole shook his head. "Nope. The Shintaran gala is tonight."

Jay whistled. "I forgot about that. It lasts all night, isn't it?"

"Yep. I'm pretty sure it does, anyway."

"You leaving soon?"

"Yeah, but something's not right. Can you help me or get Nya or something?" Discomfort crawled up Cole's spine.

"Why? You look fine. You sure you're not just nervous?" Jay asked, still sitting on the floor.

"Yeah, I'm nervous, but still. Can you just… make sure I didn't forget anything?"

Jay rolled his eyes and got up. "Fine." He scanned Cole briefly. "Seriously, you look just fine Cole. Your nerves are just getting to you."

Cole sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right. It's just weird going back for something so fancy."

"I haven't seen you this nervous in a long time. Just hang out and enjoy getting to catch up. Dance!" Jay grinned. "Maybe you can dance with Vania."

Cole flushed. "If she wants to, maybe."

"As if she wouldn't. Besides, you clearly do."

"Am I that obvious?"

"Oh yeah."

"Ugh, okay." Cole sighed and resisted the urge to mess up his hair. "Just gotta stay cool... I'd better get going."

"Have a good time!" Jay said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Say hi for us."

"Will do. See you tomorrow." Not more than five minutes later, he was on his dragon and flying over to Shintaro.

-----

On the ground in Shintaro, a whirlwind of activity had come to a stunning conclusion. Queen Vania looked over her palace with a satisfied smile, ignoring her exhaustion in favor of enjoying the fruits of her and her staff's labor. The holiday gala had come together with nary a hair out of place, and she could finally relax and enjoy it with possibly her favorite person in the whole world, Cole.

At the thought of him, she smiled even more. Despite her albeit childish hopes, during the Ninja's first visit to Shintaro, nothing had happened between herself and him, so she'd done her best to put away those hopes for the time being and focus on her people's best interests. She hadn't seen him for a long time, anyway. However, that was changing. This gala was a celebration for the people of Shintaro, and it would only make sense for her to invite one of their saviors to celebrate– why not the one who had singlehandedly brought down her father? It was the perfect opportunity to see if there was any potential for something meaningful between them, and more importantly, if he wanted it to. If not, well, it was still good to see him.

As the time of his arrival came nearer and nearer, she eventually went out to the gardens, amongst the beds of flowers and shrubs. In the back of the garden was a particularly large open space, where she had told Cole in a letter that he should land. It was just large enough for Chompy to land when he was large, so she knew it would fit his earth dragon, and it was wonderfully private. In only a few minutes, he would land there before her. Sure enough, while watching the sky and considering that night's upcoming events, she spotted his incoming brown figure, flying in through the beginnings of the sunset.

When Cole landed his dragon on the ground, Vania did her best to slow her heart and breathe deeply, attempting to keep her composure. Nevertheless, she grinned when he dismounted, letting the dragon dissipate into the air. Then he stood before her, wearing a black suit and tie that fit him perfectly, just as tall and strong as she remembered, with not a hair out of place. Not for the first time, she silently thanked whomever had made him the Black Ninja for his or her taste, for it suited him so well. He was smiling as if nothing had ever bothered him in all his life as he came to meet her, and she could barely believe he was even there.

She watched him approach, barely containing her excitement. When he got to her, he waved. "Hey, Vania!"

"Cole! It's so good to see you!" She threw self-control to the wind and put her arms around him in a hug.

"You too!" He laughed and hugged her back. Warmth flooded through her. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." He stepped back after a few moments. "Happy holidays."

"Happy holidays!" As they parted, she kept hold of his hands, but only for a moment. "You look so handsome in a suit."

"Thank you." He grinned, looking the smallest bit awkward, but spoke softly anyway. "You look beautiful, Vania– not that you don't usually, but… really beautiful."

"Thank you." She smiled, touching the fabric of her skirt nervously, the champagne fabric shimmering in the fading light. Silently, she thanked her stylist for suggesting going for a lower neckline, despite her misgivings.

"You're welcome." He smiled, so sincere and genuine that it almost hurt.

Her heart pounded. "I'm so glad you could come tonight."

"Me too. How have you been?" he asked, taking her hand. "It must have been so much work to put this together."

She laughed. "I'm exhausted! There's always something to do or fix." She looked behind her and through a great doorway into the ballroom, where quiet music was playing and a few stray couples were beginning to dance. "At least it turned out well."

"I'll say. Time for your day off." Cole grinned. "Want to join the party?"

"That sounds great." She laced her fingers through his. "Let me show you around a little bit."

"That sounds great, your Highness."

She smacked his arm lightly. "Okay, Sir Cole. Are you gonna be like that all night?"

"If you'll let me, maybe."

-----

The whole time she showed him around the palace, Cole couldn't help but marvel. Every room was bedecked in the loveliest of of decorations, with lights and garlands hanging from every high point. As the sun set, pink and orange light streamed in the windows. Glass and crystal prisms caught the light and reflected a million rainbows across the room, accenting the sparkling decorations of every color and shade. Chandeliers hung low from the ceilings, even more crystal adding to the grandeur of the moment. Every inch of the palace was gorgeous, a testament to Vania's hard work.

Cole would never admit it to himself, but if he wasn't looking at the palace, he couldn't help but look at her. Instead of her normal whites and golds and blues, she wore a dress the color of champagne that shimmered in the light, reaching all the way down to the floor. The sleeves hung just barely off the shoulders, exposing her pale skin to a greater degree than he'd ever seen, and he struggled not to stare. As they walked and talked, he tried to look anywhere but her, but failed every time, only barely paying attention to their conversation.

"...I told the Upply that we needed to make this place classy, but Korgran just didn't understand! The others got it, though," she was saying as she showed him the main ballroom. She pointed up at the very top of the grand ceiling. "Adam was the only one who could get up there to hang those lights."

Cole smiled. "I bet. I think I see webs he left."

She groaned, crossing her arms and peering up intently. "Really? I told him not to leave any! Adam!"

He laughed. "I'm kidding, it looks fine." He grinned at her. "Everything looks amazing, Vania."

"You think so?" She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah." He looked around one more time. "I think so."

"Good." She smiled and looked away, glancing at the ballroom floor. On the floor, a number of Shintarans, Geckles, and Munce were dancing together, laughing and cheering to their heart's content. However, the music was changing. Idly, Cole noticed that it was in waltz tempo, but he tried to ignore it, like all the things he'd learned about music. Vania looked wistful.

"What's up?" he asked.

She looked back at him. "What?"

"You looked like you were thinking about something."

"Oh." She smiled. "I just was thinking about the dancing. I used to look forward to the gala every year just for it."

At this, Cole had to smile. "Dancing? I didn't know you danced."

"Of course I do! I'm a queen, Cole. What queen doesn't know how to dance?" She nudged him jokingly.

"Good point." He looked at the dance floor, then back at Vania, and a probably foolish idea came to his mind. "Do you want to?"

She blushed a little, pink settling over her cheeks. "I don't have a partner..."

"Sure you do." Cole grabbed her hand, ignoring his rising heart rate. "What do you say?"

After a moment, she grinned. "I'd love to."

Together, the two walked hand-in-hand to the dance floor. Out of the corner of his eye, Cole spotted a few people watching them, but he ignored them in favor of Vania, who still held his hand. They reached the center of the floor without much ado, and he put his free hand on her waist, while she put hers on his shoulder. As they waited for a fitting time to start dancing, their eyes never left each other.

The music dipped suddenly, the tune starting again, and they were off. One, two, three, the music told them where to go, and they spun and twirled around the floor.

In and out she swung, going to and from his arms seemingly every moment. For a moment, she brushed against his arm, close for milliseconds before she flew out again. A point of emphasis came in the music right as she came back to his arms, and he dipped her, causing her to start laughing. As he righted her, the music suddenly slowed, and the two of them began to box step, laughing in glee and unable to look anywhere except at each other.

"Where did you learn to dance?!" Vania asked. "You're amazing!"

Cole grinned and spun her out once more, slower. "My dad taught me when I was a kid. What about you? You're beautiful!"

She stifled more laughter. "Private tutors. You would not believe how much spinning Chompy endured while I practiced in my room."

"Oh, I believe it." The two of them twirled, her skirt flaring out widely. "My dance partner got so dizzy back in the day."

"Your dance partner?" she asked.

"My next-door neighbor." He grinned. "She's wasn't very nice to talk to."

Vania laughed at that, the bright sound like bells as it drowned out the music for a moment. "I'll take your word for it!"

The music picked up, and the two began to dance again, faster and wider. At one point, Cole put his hands both on her waist and lifted her up into the air, swinging her around nearly a full circle before sitting her down. For a moment, she felt like she was flying, and she told him so. Then, she asked another thing, which struck him to the heart.

"Did you mean to call me beautiful?"

His face heated up and his breath caught in his chest. "You heard that?"

"Yeah, I did." She looked away, smiling bashfully.

"Oh." He almost froze, but managed to spin her again, the music slowly climbing to its highest point. "Yeah, I did. You really are beautiful, Vania."

She blushed prettily. "I guess that means I can call you dashing, then. I've never seen you so dressed up."

"Me neither, but I'll take it." As he said it, the music reached its climax, and he dipped her low, such that she could almost reach the floor. She leaned into him, and as he lifted her back up she put her arms around his neck. Their eyes met, and she smiled.

The tune was over now, and those who weren't dancing were applauding the musicians. There was a quiet rustling as sheet music was flipped, and the two were unable to break the moment for a few seconds. When they did, it was reluctant. Vania lingered in his arms, and Cole wondered whether he was imagining it. What if she really wanted something between them? Could he be that lucky?

"That was the most fun I've had in a while," she eventually said, happiness filling her voice.

"Me too." He smiled, fondness taking over his whole body. "You're a lot better than my old partner."

She snickered. "I would hope so! You're more fun than my old teacher."

"Good to know." The first strains of music struggled to be heard over all the sound of speech in the ballroom, but they picked them up anyway. In a fit of drama, Cole took her hand and kissed the back of it, intent on being chivalrous tonight if he couldn't any other time– if he could pretend that she was his for a night, maybe she'd one day want that for them. Slowly, he bowed his head, then looked up at her. "Another dance?"

Vania smiled bashfully, transfixed on him. "I'd love to."

-----

Vania and Cole danced for hours, whispering as they turned and stepped. At the beginning of every tune, he would step back and kiss her hand, before asking to dance again, ever the picture of gentlemanly charm. She would smile and say yes, and they would step out in time, beginning a new dance for each that only ended when the music did. It was like a dream to them, and Vania thought it had to be some perfect version of a romance.

As the evening passed them by, the sun slowly sunk under the horizon. The rainbows cast by the crystals faded, being replaced by soft lighting afforded by the chandeliers. The golden light diffused throughout, making the place feel otherworldy, as if enchanted by fae to be inescapable, such that no one would ever dream of leaving. The whole scene was too captivating to forget.

Idly, Vania thought that she never would leave that night behind, even if she wanted to. That night, as short as it was, would have to be her eternity, because Cole held her close, whispering words of admiration and adoration in her ear as she spun and they twirled together. More than once, she expected him to do something rash– he would stop their dancing, lift her out of a dip and kiss her softly– but it didn't happen. It was hard for her to feel upset about that, though, when they never stopped spinning.

After a couple of hours of bliss, however, they tired a bit. Laughing, they escaped the ballroom hand in hand and found a quiet terrace outside the ballroom. There, in the trailing flowers that threatened to overgrow their beds, they sat on a bench, still laughing over some odd joke as they caught their breath.

When she could finally speak, Vania found herself almost at a loss for words, so she leaned against Cole and smiled to herself. "I haven't had that much fun at one of these events in so long."

He laughed quietly. "You sure were having a good time. I haven't danced that much in years."

"Why not? You're so good at it."

He turned his head to look at her. "Guess I've never had the opportunity. I don't do many events like this, y'know?"

"That makes a lot of sense. They're pretty rare even for me."

"Makes sense, considering all the planning that went into it."

Vania met his eyes, examining how their dark brown variegation. They betrayed only happiness, except for something she couldn't quite name. All night, she'd been unable to figure out what she had been noticing, but it was even more poignant now, and she saw it in him. As quiet settled in, she felt an incredible urge to break the tension and ask him if he knew what it meant.

After a minute of stillness, she spoke, but not about the mystery of that intangible something. "You have such beautiful eyes," she said instead, transfixed. "I don't know why, but they're just… gorgeous."

Cole raised his eyebrows and blinked, looking at her in surprise. "...What?"

"Your eyes. They're beautiful."

He was quiet for a few moments, and she tried to shrug off the feeling of having done something irreparably stupid, but then he smiled, sweet and true. It was a smile that exuded happiness, and she knew it was sincere within an instant. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She beamed at him.

Cole glanced away, then back at her. "...You're beautiful, Vania. Just... in general. Especially tonight."

Heat came to her face. "You really think so?"

"Yeah." He waved his hand, gesticulating widely. "Everything tonight is gorgeous, and it's all because of you. You worked so hard on this gala." His smile turned bashful. "I really missed seeing you."

"I missed you too." Her heart clenched. "It's been so long since you were here."

"Being back is worth it." He grinned. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world; you're one of my closest friends."

"I am?" She tried to ignore how that phrase both excited and devastated her.

"Yeah. I was really happy to get your invitation."

Her stomach flipped, and she decided to be bold. "You were the only person I really wanted to invite. I'd happily just have a gala for two. It would have been just as fun."

It was Cole's turn to blush, his cheeks turning a moderate red, and she wondered if he might be thinking what she hoped– that they might have a chance. "A gala for two sounds really nice. It'd be a nice day off."

She smiled and scooted closer to him on the bench. "It does, doesn't it? Plus, all the dancing we could want." She turned and pretended to put a picture frame around the ballroom. "Food and drinks, too! It would be perfect."

Cole laughed. "Lots of cake. We wouldn't be able to eat it all!"

"Oh, no. Not at all. That's what makes it sound so good!" She grinned at him, and he only laughed more. "Are you laughing at me?"

"No, not at all," he lied.

"You are!" She smacked him lightly on the shoulder.

"The queen's attacked me! I'd better flee the country!"

"Oh no, you're not leaving yet! The gala's not even half over!" She bumped him with her shoulder. "You're staying, you here me? Royal order."

He crossed his arms. "I'm not sure I want to stay somewhere I'll be unsafe."

"Oh come on. I was kidding!"

"I know. So am I!" He chuckled. "Really though, I'm staying. How long is the gala supposed to go?"

"All night– as long as people can stay awake. I stay up all night every year."

"Do people dance that whole time?" he asked, incredulous.

"Some of them." She laughed. "You don't have to. If you need to go to bed, nobody will stop you."

He took a moment to think, but then grinned and nudged her. "I'll stay up with you. I want to remember tonight."

"Remember it?" she asked. "That can be arranged."

"I'm counting on it." He took her hand again and kissed it, just like he had so many times before as they danced. "Everything with you is memorable."

"Likewise." She beamed, and for a moment, it felt like her hopes weren't unfounded. Now was the perfect time to tell him, if she could only find the words. Would he be surprised, or would he expect it? Could he ever reciprocate? She didn't know, but she almost thought it could work. Just as she was building up her courage, however, he spoke instead and dashed her hopes.

"You know, there's a lot of this palace I never got to see last time. Would you show me around again?"

After a moment of silence for mourning her lost nerve, she smiled. "I would love to."

-----

For hours and hours, the unlikely pair danced, a ninja and a queen creating something beautiful out of nothingness. They stepped and spun, and whenever he could, Cole would dip her lower than the last time, so her hair would brush the floor. She'd laugh every time, and every time the music stopped, they'd start another dance, spinning again with only the music to guide them, as if they'd never have to stop.

Every once in a while, however, they would steal away to some new and hidden place to rest for a time, telling stories and jokes and reminiscing. With each passing moment, it seemed like they would tell their most pressing secrets, but they somehow remained unsaid, though many others were. That intangible feeling only grew, but it was so impossible to address it... Nevertheless, they grew closer and closer, until it was nearly impossible for them to part.

"I can't believe you ran away!" Vania exclaimed at one point while they hid in a little alcove off a hall, pressed almost together in the small space. "Your dad must have been furious!"

Cole laughed awkwardly, sweeping his hair back with one hand, knowing it hadn't looked proper in quite a long time. "He was angrier about the fact that I didn't tell him I was a ninja– he found out when I accidentally told him I was going to steal a trophy to stop the Devourer."

"You were going to steal the Blade Cup?" She stared. "Everyone says that you competed for it!"

"We did! Then he didn't mind."

Vania laughed. "There's always some secret side to the stories people tell about you, you know that? It's so much better hearing them from you." She leaned against him, and his heart took off at high speed. He had known that she wanted to hear their stories, but was that the reason why she cared?

"Some of them aren't very interesting," he muttered. "People like to embellish, too."

"It's hard to embellish anything when you ninja are involved!" She poked him.

He rolled his eyes. "You'd be surprised. Some people absolutely swear that huge chunks of Ninjago were just lifted into the air and made into some new continent where sky pirates lived. So far that hasn't happened."

A look of disbelief overtook Vania. "How does that… how do you even make something like that up?"

"Beats me."

She chuckled. "Well, okay. Even so, there are some things you just can't make up– that one not included."

"You sure? It's pretty easy to just lie." Cole examined her, trying to figure out what she was thinking.

"Yeah! Like… I can't make up how I didn't know Chompy could grow so huge when he gets angry, and you can't make up how you found your mom's temple!" She smiled, and then gestured between them. "We can't pretend about our friendship."

Cole had to smile back at her, unable to decipher all the emotions he was feeling. The opportunity was coming, if he could only get the words out– if he could just tell her! He could tell her, here and now, about how he felt. Was it the right time, or would it ruin everything?

"I guess you're right about that," he eventually said. "I wouldn't want to, anyway– being friends with you would be impossible to fake. Better just to actually know you. You're too unique to fake."

"Are you saying I'm weird?" she asked, squinting.

"Indescribable," he corrected, watching her reaction as she let her jaw drop in shock, mixed emotions filtering through her dark eyes. As she grappled for words, he explained. "Honestly, you're incredible. You're really strong, and smart, and you can fight. Everyone says you're an amazing queen, and they're not lying! You'd run the world if you could."

She watched him in growing surprise. "You mean all that…?"

"Every word. You're really special to me, Vania." He couldn't say anything else.

She floundered for words, but he didn't press her. When she finally had them, she took his hand. "Cole, I don't know what to say. I should be the one to say you're incredible! You're a hero– you're smart, a leader. You never give up! You've saved the whole world… you saved me. I can't compare to that." She ducked her head.

"You don't have to compare anything. I just want you to know what I think about you." He rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand soothingly.

She smiled and looked down, the fact that she was smitten obvious to everyone but him. "I think a lot of you, too. You're my best friend– I care about you a lot."

Something flip-flopped in his chest. "I care about you, too." He wondered what it meant.

For a few moments, they didn't speak, but then she lifted his hand to her cheek and pressed it softly there. "I don't really know how to handle what I feel for you. I missed you so much when you were gone, Cole. Tonight's been a dream come true... I don't want to forget any part of it."

Cole took his hand from her grasp and cupped her cheek fully, as gently as possible, trying to impress how he felt without having to verbalize it, if only to make it easier to explain the unexplainable. "I don't either. I've never felt this way for anyone– I don't even know what it is. Maybe…"

"...Maybe we feel the same?" she finished.

"Exactly." He smiled, painfully sincere, hoping this was the moment. "Vania, you make me feel so many things I can't even name. I don't know what comes next."

"Me neither." She nestled into his touch. "All I know is that I want to dance with you all night."

"I think that can be arranged." Cole laid his forehead against hers, the little hiding space they inhabited so small he felt he could have heard her heartbeat if his wasn't so loud. "We have all night to talk about this."

"We do." She looked up at him and smiled. "I'm so happy."

"Me too. I'm happy being with you."

-----

The night was no longer young, but it didn't matter. With the moon high in the sky, the gala was less crowded, as even most of the young and fit had left, only the most dedicated revelers remaining. The holiday was passing, and celebration was still in full swing throughout the city, only visible through the great windows to the ballroom. Outside, people cheered and danced in their own spaces, lights and decorations strung all across the ivory flagstone streets.

After the a few hours of the gala, the live musicians had left, but music kept playing through speakers, so the dancing continued. Now the music turned more informal, switching genres frequently. Cole and Vania found themselves doing whatever suited them, whether it was waltz or swing or no choreography at all, just having a good time with the others who celebrated. The unexplainable feeling had somewhat subsided, but it clenched in their chests every time they came together in their dances.

At one point, the music shifted back to a sort of waltz, just a bit faster than the live music had been. Vania cried out in laughter as they spun, twirling in and out of Cole's arms fast enough to make her head spin, the music their only guiding star. The music rose and rose, and Cole couldn't help but laugh as they took up the entire dance floor, others stepping away to give them room. Neither took their eyes off the other, too transfixed to notice the small crowd that had gathered to watch them until near the end of the piece, when a pause came in the music.

When they noticed, they locked eyes. In moments, a silent agreement was made between them, somehow in perfect clarity. With no hesitation, they threw themselves into the dance in impossible synchrony and danced with yet more spirit.

The music crescendoed, and deceptively it seemed to reach its climax, energy building higher and higher. Cole put his hands on Vania's waist, and as the highest note was struck, he lifted her up and spun her. Her skirt flared out as he did, and she laughed. It only lasted a moment, and as she came back down to earth, the music began to swell again.

The final climax was coming, so the two came back to dancing hand-in-hand again, their movements ever more dramatic. The end came incessantly forward, and for a moment the music stopped, the sound of breathing and hearts beating drowning everything out.

Then the end came, and Cole dipped Vania deeply. She leaned against his arm, hands clasped tightly together, breathing hard. He leaned down, holding her safe and steady, for once happy that his father had made him take so many lessons. He held her low for a surprisingly long time, as their audience watched in suspense.

As the suspense slowly lapsed, some of those who watched them began to clap, appreciative of the show. Slowly, Cole lifted her back up to a standing position, gently supporting her. As Vania gained purchase and stood on her own, they slowly came closer together, and the others in the ballroom began to cheer rowdily as they stood only inches apart.

Cole grinned, and Vania grinned back. They looked around at the other people, some of whom were drinking some sort of fizzy drink and cheering without inhibition, and then back to each other. After a moment they bowed and curtsied to the group, and Cole chuckled quietly. "They liked the show," he said under his breath.

"So they did. Want to take another break?"

He grabbed her hand tightly. "Let's find somewhere private."

She grinned, heart racing. "I know the perfect spot. Follow me!"

Before anyone could follow them, they left the ballroom, and Vania led him into a side room and shut the door. Once inside, they paused, staring at each other in partial awe at what had just occurred.

Then they began to laugh. They laughed for a long time, only stopping when their stomachs hurt. As they calmed down, however, a heavy sense of reality descended upon them both.

Their eyes met, an unspoken question passing between them. They had felt that undeniable something during that last dance, but it seemed to have no name. What could it have been? Maybe it was the exhaustion and their emotions playing tricks on them, but maybe it was what they had been hoping for– maybe it was what they longed for– maybe it was a possibility.

It was a long time before either had the strength to speak.

-----

The sun peeked over the horizon once again in its own due time. Its pale light shone into the palace, striking the garden and illuminating the vibrant greenery. Rays passed through the crystal chandeliers, too, creating minute rainbows that slowly scattered across the ballroom, shining onto the faces of sleeping and waking revelers. Not many remained awake, but those who did smiled at the reappearance of the light. The holiday was over.

For the last few hours of the gala, the music did not play at all. Those that remained awake talked, laughed, and joked to pass the time. Some drank that fizzy drink that had lowered their inhibitions. Some drank too much, and there were many foolish moves that had been made, such that the beauty of the ballroom was marred by the chaos they enacted. None of the mess bothered those that did not slumber, however– despite it all, they still remained.

Cole and Vania found themselves sitting together in one of the vacated palace rooms, leaning against one another, with Vania practically in Cole's arms. They had spent the hours telling jokes and stories. At one point, they had each drunk some of the fizzy beverage, leading to a barrage of compliments and jokes, not the least of which could have construed as anything other than veiled romantic attention. However, nothing had come of them, and the drink had worn off. Now that the morning had come, they roused themselves from half-sleep, ignoring how they ached to stay next to each other and spend the day asleep.

As the morning came into its own, the hired palace staff began to tidy up the gala's mess, and it was time for many to go home. Those who had eventually slept were awoken, and all were slowly sent away with holiday well-wishing. Cole, however, stayed close to Vania, nearly hand-in-hand. As her obligations came ever closer, however, it slowly became clear that he would have to leave soon.

When they finally had to part, Vania walked with Cole to the gardens, hand in hand. Among the greenery and flowers, where they were alone, she put her hand to his cheek, stroking gently with her thumb, looking into his dark brown eyes.

"I'll miss you," she murmured. "Come back soon."

Cole put his hands on her shoulders, still bare from her dress, and no less distracting. "I'll miss you too, Vania. Maybe next time you can visit Ninjago."

"I'd love that." She smiled at him, her eyes heavy but her heart full, and his just the same. "Show me everything?"

He chuckled. "That'll take more than one visit, you know."

"I'll just have to come more than once."

"That sounds good to me." He took her hand away from his cheek, and for a final time he kissed it, like he had so many times that night. "Thanks for the dances, Vania. I'm not gonna forget this anytime soon."

"Me neither. Have a safe flight home."

Vania watched as he slowly walked away from her, trying to memorize the moment. When he was at a safe distance, he summoned his earth dragon, its form becoming corporeal just as he jumped on, despite his tiredness. From his vantage point, he waved to her, and she waved back. Moments later, he took off, his dragon launching itself off of the ground.

Vania watched him go. He disappeared slowly, and when he was but a speck in the sky, she put her hand to her lips and kissed it softly where he had, already telling and re-telling herself the moments from that night. The next time she saw him, she'd tell him how she wanted to share something with him. She'd find a way to explain that mysterious feeling, even though she already thought she knew. Then it was his game... then she would wait for him again.

As he disappeared over the horizon, she smiled. "I'll see you soon, Cole… maybe I can tell you then."

-----

When Cole returned to the Monastery, he landed his dragon in the courtyard, the weight shaking the building. He sat on its back for a few moments, gathering his energy, and then dismounted, letting it dissipate back into nothingness as he entered the building, yawning widely.

As he passed the dining room, a voice called out to him. "Cole, you're back!"

Cole ducked his head in to see Zane, decked out in his old pink apron and making breakfast. "Hey, Zane." He yawned again, trying not to let his exhaustion show.

"You look exhausted. Why have you returned so late– or should I say, early?" Zane asked, blunt and to-the-point as ever.

Cole shrugged. "The gala lasted all night. Why are you up so early?"

"It is seven in the morning. Is that not a respectable time?" Zane asked.

"Nah, it's fine. I'm gonna go to bed. See you later."

"Sleep well." Zane smiled graciously, a twinkle in his mechanical eye, and Cole took that as a ticket to go straight to his room, avoiding the others.

After changing quickly into something more comfortable and far less formal, Cole laid down. He stared up at the ceiling, replaying all the moments from that night over and over in his mind. He put his fingers to his lips, trying to remember what it felt like to be with Vania, and smiled at the memories.

Maybe there was a chance for them after all. He knew what he had been feeling, even though he'd never felt it before. One day, he'd tell her– he'd tell her that he'd come back to her every time.

After that, anything could happen. All Cole knew was that he was looking forward to it.

#ninjago #ninjago cole #ninjago vania #colania #cole brookstone #princess vania #vanillacake #vanillacakeshipping #conia #ninjago fanfiction #OLST fanfic #OLST writing

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