#and i can get away with like ALL my daily wear/comfort jewelry for this one scheming face | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gimme-mor · 3 years

Text

BETWEEN THE LINES: NIGHT COURT ELAIN & SPRING COURT FEYRE

*DISCLAIMER*

This is a really long post and based on my interpretation of the text.

This is strictly an analysis of Elain as a character because, in my opinion, there isn’t a lot of talk about Elain outside of ships and conversations about her character arc typically revolve around to whom she is paired, especially if that person is Azriel. She is her own character and gets the short end of the stick in the fandom because everyone is more concerned about who she’s shipped with rather than her as a character.

Also, anyone who is rude/condescending will automatically be blocked.

In ACOSF, SJM went out of her way on two occasions to highlight Elain not looking good in black. While it may be minor or insignificant to some, I think those instances were meant to show something about Elain specifically and what she may be going through in the Night Court. Elain has been a passive character for the most part, contributing to things in her own way earlier in the series. But after she was taken by the Cauldron, her safety has become everyone’s main concern and the other characters have slowly excluded her from courtly matters. In ACOWAR, this was understandable because she was traumatized and not fully present. However, as of ACOSF, Elain was still excluded from courtly matters with the other characters heavily relying upon Nesta, who made her reservations known, because they were on a time constraint and couldn’t afford to wait for Elain to reacquaint herself with her powers.

The fact that the other characters use the kidnapping situation to excuse their current actions toward Elain is eerily similar to the way Tamlin and Lucien used the Under the Mountain events to excuse Tamlin’s actions toward Feyre in ACOMAF. And the characters use Elain and Feyre’s safety to justify why neither of them should be involved. In my opinion, Elain in the Night Court resembles Feyre in the Spring Court because not only do they experience similar things, but both of them are (or were in Feyre’s case) in places that stunt their growth. Even though Night Court Elain isn’t exposed to all of the things that Spring Court Feyre was exposed to, the similarities in their experiences (and how those similarities might potentially impact Elain similarly to the way they impacted Feyre) shouldn’t be overlooked.

Being monitored

Feyre

I was too watched－too monitored and judged. Why should the bride of the High Lord learn to fight if peace had returned? That had been Ianthe’s reasoning when I’d made the mistake of mentioning it at dinner. Tamlin, to his credit, had seen both sides: I’d learn to protect myself...but the rumors would spread. (ACOMAF)

“Tamlin－Tamlin, I can’t...I can’t live my life with guards around me day and night. I can’t live with that...suffocation. Just let me help you－let me work with you.” (. . .) “I’m drowning,” I managed to say. “I am drowning. And the more you do this, the more guards...You might as well be shoving my head under the water.” (ACOMAF)

Elain

Nesta said, “The Trove. And what happened the last time I scried.” Feyre said, “We won’t allow any harm to come to Elain. Rhys warded her this morning, and we have eyes on her at all times.” “Eyes can be blinded,” Nesta said. “Not the ones under my command,” Azriel said with soft menace. Nesta met his stare, knowing he was the only one aside from Feyre who could truly understand her hesitation. He’d gone with Feyre into the heart of Hybern’s camp to save Elain－he knew the risk. “We won’t make the same mistake twice.” She believed him. “All right.” (ACOSF)

Trying to fit in

Feyre

I hated the bright dresses that had become my daily uniform, but didn’t have the heart to tell Tamlin－not when he’d bought so many, not when he looked so happy to see me wear them. Not when his words weren’t far from the truth. The day I put on my pants and tunics, the day I strapped weapons to myself like fine jewelry, it would send a message far and clear across the lands. So I wore the gowns, and let Alis arrange my hair－if only so it would buy these people a measure of peace and comfort. (ACOMAF)

I sometimes debated asking her to pray for me as well. To pray that I’d one day learn to love the dresses, and the parties, and my role as a blushing, pretty bride. (ACOMAF)

Elain

And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her. But she hadn’t hesitated to come. When Feyre had offered to let her remain home, Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was a part of this court－and would do whatever she needed. (ACOSF)

So Elain had let her golden-brown hair down tonight, and pinned it back with twin combs of pearl. He’d never once in the two years he’d known her found Elain to be plain, but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court...It sucked the life from her. (ACOSF)

Pretending everything’s all right

Feyre

“Fine,” I breathed. I made myself look him in the eye, made myself smile. (ACOMAF)

Elain

“And you?” I made myself say. “Are you－all right?” Elain looked over a shoulder at me as we entered the foyer, then turned left－to the dining room. In the sitting room across the way, all conversation halted at the smell of food. “Why wouldn’t I be all right?” she asked, a smile lighting up her face. I’d seen those smiles before. On my own damn face. (ACOFAS)

Clothes not looking right on them

Feyre

I really, truly hated my wedding gown. It was a monstrosity of tulle and chiffon and gossamer, so unlike the loose gowns I usually wore: the bodice fitted, the neckline curved to plump my breasts, and the skirts...The skirts were a sparkling tent, practically floating in the balmy spring air (. . .) I might have dealt with it all if it weren’t for the puffy capped sleeves, so big I could almost see them glinting from the periphery of my vision. My hair had been curled, half up, half down, entwined with pearls and jewels and the Cauldron knew what, and it had taken all my self-control to keep from cringing at the mirror before descending the sweeping stairs into the main hall. (ACOMAF)

I again surveyed the room, my wedding gown hissing on the warm marble floors. I peered down at myself. You look ridiculous. (ACOMAF)

Elain

Elain in black was ridiculous. Yes, she was beautiful, but the color of her long-sleeved, modest gown leeched the brightness from her face. It wore her, rather than the other way around. (ACOSF)

Looking good in clothes that suit them and that fact being pointed out

Feyre

My high-waisted peach pants were loose and billowing, gathered at the ankles with velvet cuffs of bright gold. The long sleeves of the matching top were made of gossamer, also gathered at the wrists, and the top itself hung just to my navel, revealing a sliver of skin as I walked. Comfortable, easy to move in－to run. Feminine. Exotic. (ACOMAF)

But those claws now dug in－and my entire body, my heart, my lungs, my blood yielded to his grip, utterly at his command as he said, The fashion of the Night Court suits you. (ACOMAF)

Elain

Gone was the ill-suited black dress from the ball, replaced by a gown of amethyst velvet, her hair half-up and curling down to her waist. She glowed with good health. (ACOSF)

People not wanting them to be involved in things

Feyre

“I want to go.” “No.” I crossed my arms, tucking my tattooed hand under my right bicep, and spread my feet slightly further apart on the dirt floor of the stables. “It’s been three months. Nothing’s happened, and the village isn’t even five miles－” “No.” (ACOMAF)

“I could use my powers against Hybern.” “That’s out of the question,” Tamlin said, “especially as there will be no war against Hybern.” “Rhys says war is inevitable, and we’ll be hit hard.” Lucien said drily, “And Rhys knows everything?” “No－but...He was concerned. He thinks I can make a difference in any upcoming conflict.” Tamlin flexed his fingers－keeping those claws contained. “You have no training in battle or weaponry. And even if I started training you today, it’d be years before you could hold your own on an immortal battlefield.” He took a tight breath. “So despite what he thinks you might be able to do, Feyre, I’m not going to have you anywhere near a battlefield. Especially if it means revealing whatever powers you have to our enemies. You’d be fighting Hybern at your front, and have foes with friendly faces at your back.” “I don’t care－” “I care,” Tamlin snarled. Lucien whooshed out a breath. “I care if you die, if you’re hurt, if you will be in danger every moment for the rest of our lives. So there will be no training, and we’re going to keep this between us.” (ACOMAF)

Elain

“Nesta’s spine straightened. No one spoke, but their attention lingered on her like a film on her skin. ‘You will not go looking for it.’” (ACOSF)

“Then go off on adventures,” Nesta said. “Go drink and fuck strangers. But stay away from the Cauldron.” (. . .) “Keep out of this,” she hissed at her youngest sister. “I have no doubt you put these thoughts in her head, probably encouraging her to throw herself into harm’s way－” (ACOSF)

Amren said, “We do not have the time to wait for Nesta to decide. I say we approach Elain tomorrow. Better to have both of them working on it.” Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, “There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.” “But Nesta should?” Cassian growled. Everyone stared at him. He swallowed, offering an apologetic glance to Az, who shrugged it off. Amren drained her wine and said to Cassian, “Nesta has a week. One more week to find the Trove with her own methods. Then we seek out other routes.” She threw a nod toward Azriel. “Including Elain, who is more than capable of defending herself against the darkness of the Trove, if she chooses to. Don’t underestimate her.” (ACOSF)

“I think Eris is our ally, and will expect to dance with a lady of this court at the ball no matter what. I won’t let Feyre within five feet of him, Mor might kill him, and Amren is more likely to scare him off than win him over, so you and Elain are the only options.” “Elain doesn’t go near him,” Feyre said. (ACOSF)

Their safety being brought up when they want to be involved

Feyre

“Please. The recovery efforts are so slow. I could hunt for the villagers, get them food－” “It’s not safe,” Tamlin said, again nudging his stallion into a walk. The horse’s coat shone like a dark mirror, even in the shade of the stables. “Especially not for you.” He’d said that every time we had this argument; every time I begged him to let me go to the nearby village of High Fae to help rebuild what Amarantha had burned years ago (. . .) “People want to come back, they want a place to live－” “Those same people see you as a blessing－a marker of stability. If something happened to you…” (. . .)Tamlin said softly, “I can’t do what I need to if I’m worrying about whether you’re safe.” (ACOMAF)

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he murmured. “It’s fine,” I breathed. “I understand.” Not a lie, but not quite the truth. His fingers grazed lower, circling my belly button. “You are－you’re everything to me,” he said thickly. “I need...I need you to be all right. To know they can’t get to you－can’t hurt you anymore.” (ACOMAF)

“Tamlin got what I didn’t,” Lucien said softly, his breathing ragged. “We all heard your neck break. But you got to come back. And I doubt that he will ever forget that sound, either. And he will do everything in his power to protect you from that danger again, even if it means keeping secrets, even if it means sticking to rules you don’t like. In this, he will not bend. So don’t ask him to－not yet.” (ACOMAF)

“Did he let you take me today,” I said hoarsely, “so that I’d stop asking to help rebuild?” “No. I decided to take you myself. For that exact reason. They don’t want or need your help. Your presence is a distraction and a reminder of what they went through.” (. . .) “I know you wanted to help,” Lucien offered. “I’m sorry.” So was I. (ACOMAF)

Elain

“The last time we involved ourselves with the Cauldron, it abducted you,” Nesta countered, fighting her shaking. (ACOSF)

“Like calls to like,” Amren countered. “You were Made by the Cauldron. You may track other objects Made by it as well, as Briallyn can. And because you are Made by it, you are immune to the influence and power of the Trove. You might use them, yes, but they cannot be used upon you.” A glance to Elain. “Either of you.” Nesta swallowed. “I can’t.” But to let Elain involve herself, jeopardize her safety－ (ACOSF)

Nesta’s pulse pounded throughout her body. “Do you not remember the war? What we encountered? Do you not remember the Cauldron kidnapping you, bringing you into the heart of Hybern’s camp?” “I do,” Elain said coldly. (ACOSF)

If it was between her and Elain, there was no choice at all. She would always go first if it meant keeping Elain from harm. Even if she’d just hurt her sister more than she could stomach. (ACOSF)

Pushing back against what others want

Feyre

He hissed, “You have no idea how hard it is for him to even let you off the estate grounds. He’s under more pressure than you realize.” “I know exactly how much pressure he endures. And I didn’t realize I’d become a prisoner.” “You’re not－” He clenched his jaw. “That’s not how it is and you know it.” “He didn’t have any trouble letting me hunt and wander on my own when I was a mere human. When the borders were far less safe.” “He didn’t care for you the way he does now. And after what happened Under the Mountain…” The words clanged in my head, along my too-tense muscles. “He’s terrified. Terrified of seeing you in his enemies’ hands. And they know it, too－they know all they have to do to own him would be to get ahold of you.” “You think I don’t know that? But does he honestly expect me to spend the rest of my life in that manor, overseeing servants and wearing pretty clothes?” (ACOMAF)

Elain

Cassian shifted in his seat. “So we track down the Dread Trove－how?” Elain spoke from the doorway, having appeared so silently that they all twisted toward her, “Using me.” Nesta’s head went silent as Elain’s words finished sounding in the room. Feyre had twisted in her seat, face white with alarm. Nesta shot to her feet. “No.” Elain remained in the doorway, her face pale but her expression harder than Nesta had ever seen it. “You do not decide what I can and cannot do, Nesta.” (ACOSF)

“It nearly killed me. It trapped me like a bird in a cage.” Elain said, “Then I will find it. I might require some time to...reacquaint myself with my powers, but I could start today.” “Absolutely not,” Nesta spat, fingers curling at her sides. “Absolutely not.” “Why?” Elain demanded. “Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.” (ACOSF)

Being used as pawns against others

Feyre

“We need you to tell us everything,” Tamlin said. “The layout of the Night Court, who you saw, what weapons and powers they bore, what Rhys did, who he spoke to, any and every detail you can recall.” “I didn’t realize I was a spy.” Lucien shifted in his seat, but Tamlin said, “As much as I hate your bargain, you’ve been granted access into the Night Court. Outsiders rarely get to go in－and if they do, they rarely come out in one piece. And if they can function, their memories are usually...scrambled. Whatever Rhysand is hiding in there, he doesn’t want us knowing about it.” (ACOMAF)

Elain

Rhys angled his head at the not-quite question. “I trust in the fact that we currently have possession of the one thing he wants above all else. And as long as that remains, he’ll try to stay on our good side. But if that changes...His talent was wasted in the Spring Court. There was a reason he had that fox mask, you know.” His mouth tugged to the side. “If he got Elain away, back to Spring or wherever...do you believe, deep down, that he wouldn’t sell what he knows? Either for gain, or to ensure she stays safe?” “You let him hear everything tonight, though.” (. . .) I considered his question: Did I trust Lucien? “I don’t know, either,” I admitted, and sighed. “I don’t like that Elain is a pawn in this.” “I know. It’s never easy.” (ACOWAR)

Cassian glowered at Amren. “It’s not right to wield Elain as a threat to manipulate Nesta into scrying.” “There are harsher ways to convince Nesta, boy.” (ACOSF)

Although Elain and Feyre are surrounded by two different groups of people with varying levels of care for their wellbeing, they’re treated similarly which is hard to overlook. In Elain’s situation, Nesta, Azriel, and Feyre take on the “Tamlin role” (either undermining Elain’s attempts to contribute to things or preventing Elain from helping altogether) while everyone else takes on the “Lucien role” (validating the concerns of others while also enabling their behaviors, which doesn’t support Elain’s desire to be involved).

#elain archeron #feyre archeron #gimme meta #gimme queues

123 notes · View notes

untaemedqueen · 4 years

Text

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 8.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage

Warnings In This Chapter: Angst

A/N: Always the most gigantic, humongous shoutout to my loves @xjoonchildx, @ladyartemesia, @ppersonna for rooting me on and making it so easy to write these characters who I have come to adore!

The house was quiet when you first woke up. There's an overwhelming sense of comfort in the air as you step out of your bedroom.

You've been getting into a daily routine here, without it you'd probably feel lost or without a purpose.

You really adored the small waterfall alcove beside your room. The sounds are so peaceful and the koi that swim beneath the glass floor are absolutely gorgeous. Entering here was always the beginning of your daily routine.

You weren't fond of wearing heels and for the first time in a long time you had on sneakers. After feeling sick for a few days you decided on a comfortable hoodie, albeit still expensive but you like it. The leggings you wear hug you closely and it brings you ease.

"Little dove?" you hear from behind as you stare down at the koi fish.

"Morning," you say, turning your head to the CEO as he leans against the doorframe of his bedroom.

His eyes are bleary, his forehead creased from the bright light that bleeds through the stained glass windows.

"Why do you always get up so fucking early? You should be sleeping, the baby needs rest. Does it not?" he asks, scratching at his neck with a yawn.

"I'm used to getting up this early, I did have a job not too long ago," you reply, looking over the waterfall walls.

He puts his head back against the door frame, his fingers combing through his sleepy bed head.

"I shouldn't be speaking to you anyway. It's before your morning coffee," you jeer, sitting down on the marble bench.

"Shut up," he retorts but you can hear the humor in his voice. You notice the corners of his lips flickering upward as he shoves off of the doorway.

"Madam?" you hear from the end of the hall.

Your attention turns to Maya as she bows.

Yoongi watches your face light up, he sees the true joy in you and he snorts gently in response. You're really a blessing to this house.

"Good morning Maya!" you say, standing up from the bench quickly.

"Easy does it, little dove." Yoongi murmurs, folding his arms.

"The neighbor Kim Yoona is here to see you." Tilting your head, you can't begin to register the name.

Yoongi laughs gently as he enters the hallway.

"Get me an Irish coffee, please Maya. I'm going to need it if Yoona is here," you turn to him as he speaks, watching as he rubs hand fists over his eyes.

"Who's Yoona?" you ask softly.

"Namjoon's wife. She's actually really sweet. Which is against my religion... so," he says before putting his hand on your lower back to escort you to the staircase.

You don't pull away from him oddly enough. You let him guide you, it's easier than fighting so early in the morning.

"She went to Sairmount Academy like us, too." he notifies you as you descend the stairs together.

"Huh." you mumble thoughtfully.

There were very few memories of Sairmount Academy you remembered. It's kind of bizarre knowing that Yoongi was around all throughout your schooling.

You didn't care to remember many things from school. It was always the same, you were poor and people were rich. You were bullied, Leena and Jin were the only ones who cared for you.

"Morning Yoona," Yoongi says as you reach the bottom floor.

Turning to you, you take in the woman who stands by the couch. She has light brown hair with dirty blonde highlights. Her body is slim and proportionate adorning light ripped jeans and a cashmere turtleneck. The thing that stands out the most though, is her paddock boots. She must really love her horses. She's clean cut and absolutely gorgeous.

But, as she smiles something seems familiar to you.

"Morning, Yoongles," he grimaces at her nickname, accepting the coffee that is rushed over to him.

"Why are you here?" he asks, leaning against the marble stairwell banister.

"Came to see an old friend." Yoona replies.

Tilting your head, your eyes begin to widen.

If she had black, long hair with small polka dot bows and if she was years younger, she would look exactly like an old friend.

"Bang Yoona?" You ask softly and she points to herself with a comical wink.

"That's me," she cheers happily.

"Oh my God!" you cry out, rushing over to hug her.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow as he watches you both hug. His heart warms at the sight of your pure excitement.

"Small world," he murmurs above the lip of his coffee cup.

"I changed my last name when I got married," she tells you, placing both hands on either side of your face as she pulls away.

You can remember when you were little. Yoona welcomed you quite like Leena. You were happy to spend time with her when you were seven. But, after time went on, she left to Germany with her parents when they accepted different jobs.

You were sad back then having only Leena but then it became a distant memory as you got older.

"You look amazing!" you compliment her as she brushes some hair behind your ear.

"As do you! Once Joon told me that it's you that got pregnant with Yoongi's baby I had to see you!" Yoongi smirks gently as you pull away from one another.

"This is such a pleasant surprise!" you cheer as she slings her arm over your shoulders.

"Come spend the day at my house. Leave Yoongi to his sad self," she winks at you and you giggle in reply.

"Fuck you." Yoongi mumbles. Yoona sticks her tongue out at him before pulling you towards the door.

"I'll show you my horses! They're so beautiful!" she tells you enthusiastically.

"Hey." Yoongi calls to you, whistling loudly for your attention.

You turn to him, a wide smile on your face which makes him smirk.

"Be careful and no riding the horses with the baby inside of you," he says pointedly.

You nod happily before hooking your arm around Yoona's waist.

"Watch out for her!" Yoongi calls to her and she snorts gently as you both walk up the entryway steps.

"Always. I probably know her better than you do," she retorts with a laugh.

Yoongi grimaces at the thought before rolling his eyes.

"Yeah well she's having my baby," he retorts softly.

He watches the front door close as he sips his coffee.

"Maya!" he calls to the empty house as he pushes himself off the stairwell.

"Sir?" he hears in the distance.

"Bring me my yearbooks!" he calls as he begins to ascend the stairs.

You better be careful or he'll raise hell with the Kims.

The walk to Namjoon's house is absolutely breathtaking. You've always stuck around the house, taking walks around the long stoned paths by the garden. But now, walking towards the large mansion in the distance, you can only be in awe of the sights before you.

"I cannot believe what a small world we live in." Yoona says, ripping you out of your trance.

You giggle as she hugs you tightly to her side.

"I know," you reply as you both move out of the way as a car passes by.

The limousine begins to slow down, the window sliding down as well.

Very unfortunate for you, the face of Sera is right in your sights.

"Good morning Yoona! You look ravishing today!" Sera's voice is filled with overly sweet tones.

Your stomach begins to roll at how fake she is.

"Hi." Yoona says briskly, hand gripping beneath your arm tighter.

"See you've taken on a pet project. How gracious of you." Sera says, leaning her body out the window and grimacing in your direction.

Your friend from childhood stops in her tracks. "I think Y/N is delightfully where she should be in life. Unlike you, Sera. If anyone needs a pet project, I'll be sure to have them reach out to you."

You can hear Sera scoff loudly as Yoona tugs you down the road.

"Oh, and Sera?" Yoona calls Yoongi's wife.

You watch the pretty woman angle her head out of the car as if she would be expecting an apology.

"It's 2020, no one drives around in a limousine anymore. It's an embarrassing way to flaunt your money. You should get a Rolls Royce or an Astin Martin. No one wants to see you in a rickety old limo. That shit is for the birds," you put your hand over your mouth, gasping with a laugh as Yoona tugs you down toward her mansion.

"I cannot believe you!" you squeal as she laughs loudly.

Entering Namjoon and Yoona's house you're astounded at how different yet gorgeous it is to where you live now.

The house has an English feel to it, limestone and wooden hardware really bring it all together. The house screams Victorian Gothic and you find it all so wonderful.

"What do you think?" Yoona asks as she passes through the sitting room

"This is beautiful, Yoona. I can't even believe it!" you say in awe. Your eyes glance up, looking at the chandelier before she's tugging you into the next room.

"Namjoon and I are a bit obsessed with old English history. Like this, this is my most prized possession in the whole house," she says stopping in front of a large glass case.

Looking down, your eyes widen so big they could almost fall out of your head.

Gorgeous jewels and diamonds sit nestled in silver and gold. There are crowns, necklaces, earrings and all sorts of other baubles.

"Holy shit!" you whisper out.

Your hands situate behind your back as if you're in a museum.

"All of these belonged to King Henry the Eighth and his many wives! My favorite is Anne Boleyns." Yoona says pointing at a crown that is more grandiose than all of the others.

"Yoona, these are really beautiful," you breathe out.

She wrinkles her nose gently, leaning against the varnished hardwood table.

"Ready to go see my horses?" she asks as her maid brings you both glasses of water.

You nod to her happily as you move away from the royal jewelry.

Stepping out into the backyard of her house, you can't seem to see where the line is drawn between her house and Yoongis. The grass is perfectly cut and a luscious green that makes you feel at peace.

"Just over here." Yoona calls to you as she takes off toward the horse barn.

"Whoa." It feels as if you're almost in a movie.

You can see men walking to and fro with metal buckets filled with water and different foods. They all have on the same uniforms, something akin to what jockeys would wear before a big race.

The horse barn, as you approach, looks just like a home. Something comfortable and clean that could very well have people living inside of it.

"My pride and joy is Rapture. He's won five awards since he's been born and he is the biggest sweetheart," your heart warms at how enthusiastic your childhood friend sounds.

The barn doors open and you feel as if you've been thrust into a fairytale.

There are six horses, all beautifully kept with various colors and sizes on their coats. Whinies and neighs enrapture your ears as the animals spot Yoona.

"It's like you're the Snow White of horses," you whisper to her as she picks up some carrots by the front door.

"Well, they're my babies," she replies, a motherly smile plastered on her face.

"Jooheon," she calls out.

You watch a man around your age appear. His hair is a light shade of blue and his eyes are soft and doe-like. His cheeks are high and his jaw is sharp like it has been carved by the gods.

He's incredibly tall and muscular, his thick thighs quiver and flex as he walks towards you both.

"Madams," he says, bowing down to you both.

His eyes lock with yours as he stands back up, a smirk on his features as he winks at you.

Finally, Yoongi had brought home his laptop for work. He hasn't really given much thought to why he feels the need to stay home so much these days. He doesn't want to think about it, he just lets things be.

Throwing his feet up on his desk, his eyes falter to the stack of yearbooks that Maya has so kindly brought him.

Seeing Yoona this morning, someone he's always known suddenly knowing you, it made him curious.

How could he have gone throughout all of his Sairmount schooling AND college to never know you?

Sipping his coffee, he opens up the first yearbook.

His eyes narrow at the pages, looking over all the small kids with the same uniforms.

"Y/N. Y/N." he mumbles as his index finger glazes over the children's faces.

His eyebrows crease as he leans back in his desk chair.

You were in none of these pictures, not that he could see anyway.

Flipping through the pages of the book, he passes the newspaper club, the computer club, the chess club before finding solo pictures of each student.

His lips puff out as he skims along the pictures.

"Holy shit," he whispers, setting down his coffee cup.

There you were. Small and cute in front of his eyes.

But, there's something familiar about you as he continues to stare at the picture. You with your small tie and blazer, he feels like he's always known you.

Then it hits him, you were in his class. He fucking remembers you, sitting three seats behind him in History.

Purchasing his hand beneath his chin, he stares at the small pictures in his history textbook. He couldn't be bothered to study for the pop quiz and he knows that he probably failed.

His father was going to be disappointed, as always. His father is never proud of anything he does so why should this matter.

"Sir Min," the teacher, Mrs. Park, calls to him.

With the roll of his eyes, he looks up at his teacher.

"Yeah," he mumbles as Hoseok slides a note beneath the lip of his book.

"Do you realize that I've been calling your name for the past three minutes?" Mrs. Park asks as she leans down on her desk.

Running his fingers through his hair, the tip of his tongue grazes over his teeth. He leans back in his own chair, eyes glazing over the teacher with a bored expression.

"No. I was too busy looking at what underwear people used to wear," he mutters aloud.

He can hear other kids snickering and murmuring at his joke. A sly smirk begins to spread over his face while he fixes his tie.

"You think this is funny? You think failing is funny?" she quips as she holds up the quiz.

He can feel his neck heating up out of embarrassment.

"The future heir of Kisung can't even pass a history quiz? Maybe your parents should get a phone call," she asks him, her legs wading through the multitude of desks before plopping the sheet down on his table.

He takes in all the red lines that are scoured over the paper.

"I bet you can't even tell me when the Mongols invaded the Goryeo dynasty," she says earning a multitude of hushed voices.

He turns his head to the others behind him, his eyes dancing over the kids that sit with their eyes on their desks.

Then they falter to you as you stare at him shamelessly. Your small hands form fists as you look from him to Mrs. Park.

Secretly, you begin to raise your fingers.

One.

Two.

One.

Six.

He clears his throat as your eyes falter to your desk and he turns back to the teacher as she raises her eyebrow.

"The Mongols invade Goryeo in 1216," Yoongi says as he swings his arm over the lip of his chair.

She purses her lips at his answer, eyes narrowing at him.

Maybe your information was wrong.

"Well, if you knew that then why did you fail the quiz?" she asks softly, retreating to her desk at the front of the class.

He breathes a gentle sigh of relief, turning his head to you. He nods to you as Leena pinches your arm. Nodding back, the corner of your lips flicker upwards before pinching your best friend.

Yoongi chuckles to himself as he recalls the memory.

You saved his sorry ass that day, if it wasn't for you he would have had to kneel on rice in a corner for God knows how long.

"Interesting," he whispers to himself as he continues to flicker through the yearbook.

"You have a phone call, Mrs. Kim," someone announces from the entrance to the horse barn.

She hums in reply, running her hand over the soft mane of Rapture.

"I'll just be a minute, why don't you spend time with the horses. They seem to love you," she suggests and you nod happily as Rapture rubs his large face against yours.

Giggling, you hold out an apple slice for him and he takes it without complaint.

"You're so pretty," you tell the horse as he munches happily on the slice.

"Do you know anything about horses?" you hear from behind you.

Turning to the owner of the voice, you smile gently as Jooheon wipes a rag over his sweaty face.

"Unfortunately not. But, they're very beautiful," you reply as Rapture nuzzles the back of your head.

The stableman chuckles as the horse rests his head on your shoulder.

"Rapture always finds it easy to feel comfortable around gorgeous women," you can feel the apples of your cheeks blushing as Jooheon tosses the rag he holds up in the air.

"I'm sure you really like this job," you say, running your hand over the horse's neck.

He nods to your statement, leaning back against one of the wooden doors. "I've always liked animals more than people. When you look into a horse's eyes, you can see so much emotion. You can practically see their souls bare in front of you."

His admission makes you think. You can understand people that love and respect animals more than people.

"That's really sweet," you tell him as he fixes his uniform.

He gives you a smile, one that's enchanting showing off his perfectly white teeth.

"It's just the truth," he replies as Rocket, an all white horse, nuzzles his face.

"I know, girl. Don't get jealous cause I'm talking to a pretty woman," he whispers and this time your ears heat up.

"The Madam was telling everyone that you're an old school friend," he says, patting the horse's face.

You nod, a reminiscent smile on your features. "Yeah. Yoona was a good friend when we were younger."

He takes delight in how you smile, how perfectly shy you are.

"Did you move in around here?"

"Yeah. I'm living with the Min's," you answer as Rapture snorts gently onto your cheek.

"Must be nice to have money," he quips.

You shake your hands quickly. "Oh. I'm not rich."

He hums playfully, looking over your expensive attire with an unsure eye.

"I thought Min Yoongi was married," he counters as he slides his right foot up onto the stable door behind him.

You watch his thighs flex once more before clearing your throat. "He is. I'm just... I'm pregnant with his... y'know... his baby."

Jooheon whistles loudly at the admission. "Interesting. But, you're not dating him, are you?"

The question makes you laugh, feeding another apple slice to Rapture while shaking your head. "No. I am not."

Jooheon nods slowly as he stands up and you can hear the horse barn door opening to your right. "Can I ask you out on a date then?"

Puffing from his cigar, Yoongi leans back into the armchair he sits in. His fingers pull and push at his cards on the green felt.

"I call." Jeongguk mumbles and the CEO tosses some extra chips into the center of the poker table.

Although Jimin was invited to tonight's poker game, Yoongi thought it wise that he didn't accept. The shorter man was hanging on by a hair, the last time he was in this house.

Guk was more than happy to sit in his seat beside Taehyung for the evening.

The classical music swells throughout the room and Yoongi stares down at the chips in hand. Once that memory of you from childhood came flooding back, he can remember smaller ones too.

Ones like when you were being bullied or when the girls tried to steal your lunch. He can remember all the times he heard Leena screaming to protect you, and he finds himself feeling more accepting of her.

"Yoona had a great time with Y/N today. She loves her," Namjoon says, earning everyone's attention.

"Well I think they used to be friends, no? I don't remember much about Y/N but I remember that she was friends with Leena, Yoona and of course Jin," Hoseok says.

"What do you mean 'of course Jin?'" Yoongi finds himself asking, something inside of him growing terse and annoyed.

"Well he was always with them. He was Leena's boyfriend when we were younger too. He was the only boy that used to hang around with them."

He starts to simmer down at his admission. "Oh," Yoongi whispers.

"Read 'em and weep, hyungs," Jeongguk says with a smug grin, flipping over his cards.

Taehyung groans long and low, his hands carding through his hair as Guk shows them a straight flush.

"Goddamn. This kid wins in everything! Whether it's boxing, car racing or cards!" Tae complains as Guk collects his chips.

Yoongi chuckles to himself, lifting his whisky glass to his lips.

"I'm really glad Y/N has a friend around here." Namjoon says and to this the Kisung CEO nods.

He wants you to thrive. He can say this until his face turns blue.

As Maya begins to deal the cards once more, the library door slowly begins to open. The sound draws everyone's attention and they stay silent as you enter.

Your face is buried in a book, your feet slowly shuffling into the big room. The sight of you makes Yoongi smirk, your hand is pressed on your flat stomach as you continue farther into the room.

You look precious. Your hair is slightly wet from a shower not too long ago and your eyes are enraptured with the words you read.

"Beautiful," he whispers under his breath but the sound is swallowed by Namjoon clearing his throat.

You look up quickly, clearly startled by the noise.

"Oh my God, it's Thursday! I'm so sorry!" you cry out as you slam the large book in hand shut.

"No worries, little dove. Come. Get a book," Yoongi calls to you as you try to leave.

"Hey Y/N." Namjoon says with a comforting smile.

Your eyes meet his and the friendly face makes you smile widely. "Hi Joon. Good evening!"

You wink at Maya, scurrying behind her to find a new book to read.

Oh, Joon is it?

Yoongi rolls his eyes as he burns out his cigar. He wafts the smoke away from your direction, picking up his whisky glass.

You had changed your clothes. Now wearing a purple free flowing sundress.

Might be better to not have tight clothes on, if they make you uncomfortable. The father of your child finds himself thinking.

"Y/N. Can you tell Leena to call me, please?" Taehyung whines.

Turning to him, you narrow your eyes playfully.

Why can't Yoongi see you like this? Is it because he's too big of a dick?

He wishes you would be so free with him…

"Tae. I'm told that you're in the dog house," you jeer as you grab a book.

Tae, is it?

Yoongi gulps down the rest of his drink, his throat burning as his gut explodes with alcoholic fire.

"Tell her I'll book the penthouse. I promise," he says, holding out his pinky.

Humming cutely, you step onto the platform beside Maya. Grabbing his pinky, he gives you a wink and it almost sends Yoongi onto the fucking floor.

"Don't you have some reading to do, little dove?" he asks quickly, watching how tightly Taehyung grips at your pinky.

You look over at the CEO before nodding. He gives you a small smile and your heart stutters as you return it.

"I'm Jeongguk! But, you can just call me Guk or Gukkie," the youngest calls to you.

You bow your head to him with a smile. "Nice to meet you."

"That's Hoseok," Namjoon says, pointing his thumb to the left of him.

You give a small wave before looking down at the book you hold.

"Well I'll let you get back to it. I'll just be reading," you say, mostly to Yoongi.

He nods above the lips of his glass, watching you press the book to your flat womb.

You're fucking endearing as all hell.

"Or, you can join us," Joon suggests.

Yoongi grimaces at the idea. Why would he fucking ask you to stay? In a room with all these handsome men? No.

"No. She said she wants to rea-" the father of your child begins to say before you cut him off.

"I might destroy you," you quip and his mouth hangs open at your banter.

Yoongi watches as Maya begins to smile, a proud smirk gracing her features already.

"Poker is about luck," Hoseok jeers.

"Well I did get knocked up on a pass by. Seems like I'm pretty lucky," you joke, making the others laugh.

Yoongi snorts to himself as you share camaraderie with his friends.

"That's my baby you're talking about," he says, pointing his index finger over the lip of his glass to you.

You give him a warm smile, the apples of your cheeks raising as you giggle.

"Here, noona. You can sit in my seat," Guk says and it rubs Yoongi the wrong way almost immediately.

"She can have my seat, you're a guest," he says quickly.

"Oh no, it's fine. Noon-"

"Y/N, come." Yoongi's voice is strict and you roll your eyes at his commanding demeanor.

Setting down the book on the lip of the table, you take his seat. He stands behind you, handing the burnt out cigar and ashtray to Maya.

The smell might make you feel sickly.

"Jeongguk always wins," Hoseok notifies you and you hum curiously.

"We'll see," you reply as you begin to stack Yoongi's poker chips. He can smell your shampoo, violets and vanilla--it smells amazing.

"You know how to play?" He whispers softly in your ear, you shiver at his warm breath, smelling the alcohol on his pallet.

It reminds you of your first night together and you press your thighs into one another at the memory.

"Oh, I know how to play," you reply.

He places his hand on your shoulder as Maya begins to deal.

"Don't spend all of my money, we play with real bucks here," Yoongi says, his thumb grazing over the softness of your skin.

You feel yourself relax as his skin grazes yours. It feels comfortable, it feels kind of right.

Lifting your cards, your thumb skims over the tops and Yoongi holds his breath waiting for what you're going to do.

A diamond ace and a ten of diamonds sits in your hand. Yoongi presses down on your shoulder, almost as if he's proud of you.

"Raise," you mumble as Yoongi slides his thumb over the column of your neck.

You can see all the other billionaires staring at you and you calmly grab three poker chips before throwing them into the middle of the table.

"She's got a good poker face," Hoseok quips as he lifts his glass of brandy.

You feel your heart pick up speed as Yoongi slides his free hand over your other shoulder.

"Good girl." He whispers softly in your ear and your eyes flutter shut at his praise.

What the fuck is going on?

This Yoongi, the one behind you feels so different than the man who you moved in with just a week or so ago.

"Who are you and what have you done with Yoongi?" you quip into his ear softly.

You watch as Maya begins to flip three cards, you snort gently as a king, a queen and a four, of the same suit appear.

"He's gone." Yoongi murmurs, earning widened eyes from you as you focus on your cards.

You watch as the others toss chips into the middle and you throw a few more as Yoongi sips his whisky.

Your stomach begins to coil as he presses his thumbs down into your shoulders with soothing circles. He's fucking massaging you.

You find your body relaxing into his chest and stomach.

Yoongi watches the way your thighs quiver as you cross your legs. He can see the back of your neck flushing and his tongue licks over his bottom lip slowly.

"So, Y/N," Joon says, elbowing Hoseok with a wink. You shy away from the CEO's touch and he feels like he's being rejected all in a quick second.

Yoongi sighs gently, his eyes flutter shut and he loosens his grip on you.

"Yoona tells me you got a date today," you clear your throat uncomfortably as the men look pointedly at you.

Yoongi's eyes widen at the new information. He pulls away from you, making up the excuse in his mind to grab another grab of whisky.

He can feel the rage beginning to burn through him, as if someone has lit the end of a stick of dynamite. His eyes flutter shut and he steadies himself on the lip of the bar.

How fucking dare someone try to ask you out. How dare they?

"Oh well, Jooheon is really kind," he hears how soft your tone is and he can't help the way his hand shakes as he picks up the whisky bottle.

Why does the prospect of you dating drive him almost to the brink of insanity?

"You told him no, right?" he finds himself asking, he stares at his reflection through the mirrored wall. His face is pink with anger, the veins in his neck protruding as he grips tightly onto his glass.

You can't see him, but you can hear how livid he is.

"Well, I-" before you can even reply, he's charging across the room.

His hand grips at your arm and without a second thought he's tugging you to the library door.

You swallow thickly as he kicks the door open with his foot in a moment of blind rage.

"Yoongi!" you complain as he pulls you into the game room next door.

He slams the door shut behind him, his back presses into the cherry wood. Narrowing his eyes at you, he sneers.

"You told him no, right?! You do remember the contract, correct? Or, are your childish feminine hormones making you blind?" he barks out.

Your face begins to set into a scowl as you continue to stare at him. Why not be a brat? It's something you're quite good at when you're upset with him.

"Well if I can't get cock from you, then I'll have to get it elsewhere," your statement drops like a bomb and in a second he's pushing you up against the wall.

"Don't you fucking dare get snarky with me, like that. No cocks are going in this tight little cunt, do you understand me?" he seethes through his teeth.

Your eyes meet his, both sets are glaring and determined.

"Well then, guess you should have accepted my offer to fuck me," you quip.

He chuckles darkly, the sound shaking you to the core. And, for the first time he places his hand over your stomach.

"You couldn't handle this cock in your pregnant pussy, believe me. If I even see you with another man, I'll fuck him up."

"Why, jealous?" you ask as his thumb swipes over your stomach.

The feeling of his hand over your child can only compare to the sun. It feels wonderful.

"What do I have to be jealous of? I have it all. And that includes you. You're mine," he barks out and you hum unsurely, turning your face away from him as his forehead presses to yours.

"Just because I'm having your baby, that doesn't make me yours," you reply, your eyes focus on the pinball machines at the far end of the room.

"Yeah. It really does, little dove," you can hear the agitation in his voice, the annoyance he feels can match yours.

The tip of his nose grazes over your cheekbone as he presses his face closer.

The burning anger in him subsiding as he continues to drift his hand over your stomach.

"Just... don't." It's practically a plea falling from his lips.

Your eyes flutter shut at his now soft tone.

"I told him no," you whisper and you can feel his breath of relief as it rushes over your lips and neck.

"Then why are you pissing me off?" he asks gruffly.

"Because you made me mad," you retort as his hands grip at your sides.

He stays silent for a second before responding.

"I know. I'm getting way too good at that. I'm sorry," he whispers.

You swallow thickly, he's apologizing? He's really not himself today.

"Did you get a concussion?" you ask as he pulls away from you.

He raises an eyebrow as he keeps you at arms length. His fingers comb through his hair, a few odd strands falling back into his eyes.

"A concussion? What?" he replies, confused.

"You're acting weird," you comment as he fixes his blazer.

He begins to smirk as he leans back against the pool table. "I told you, old Yoongi is gone."

Humming unsurely, you intertwine your fingers.

"I'd really like it if you could not give me whiplash every few minutes. Makes it a lot bearable on my neck," you say as you fix your dress.

His eyes falter to your swollen breasts, his tongue licks over his lips while he does his best to calm his breathing.

"I'll be more thoughtful," he whispers and you bite your bottom lip, nodding carefully.

"We should get back," you tell him as you push off of the wall.

He nods gently and he grips at your wrist as you try to walk away from him. You turn to him as his eyes become softer. "No boyfriends, no dates."

You smirk as you look him over. "No boyfriends. No dates," you promise and he cups your cheek gently without even thinking.

"I like the fierce you. Makes my heart feel warm," he comments, leaving you in the game room on your own.

When he touches you, it makes your heart feel warm as well.

Next Chapter --->

Third Wheeling Taglist- @wickizer, @imluckybitches, @slothykreuger, @claireelise19, @ggukkieland, @rspbrryy, @iv-bts, @bambuzlee, @chanelbts, @mxxngxdss, @bluewhale52, @milesjeon11, @diamonddia-mond, @vinylphwoar, @yxnxxli, @hubbytaehyung, @140503at-dawn, @bts-7beauts, @jadeblackwoll, @sunshiine-hobii, @creatorspalace, @eclectically-esoteric, @nikkiordonez12, @kaitswrld, @skamlover200, @sevgilove98, @kooeuphoria, @jikooksgirl19, @hobbledehoy26, @singular-itae, @dchimminie, @lowlifeoeuvre, @sugaslittlekookies, @bloopbloopb, @pjmcth, @softysuho, @codeinbelle, @jaiuneamesolitaiire, @betysotelo18, @jeonmisha, @iwanttohitmyself, @ayyyocee, @neverthefirstchoice, @itsbangtanoclock, @little7bitchh, @veryuniquenamegoeshere, @deathkat657, @firstlovesuga-93, @namjoonia, @paperpurple, @muzikabijou, @liebeoppa, @veronawrites, @kleff03, @ruinsofangels, @brightwingr5, @leekanchol, @rkivemagic, @ithinkileftmycoatoutside, @melaninkpops, @y00ngisbabygirl, @ungodlyjoon, @prochnost513, @dunixxd, @athenakyle, @igotnotype, @chxmachxps, @tinymintyoongi, @vangameren-blog, @alpaca1612, @ohcarolinamin, @thegreatestsushi, @jooniebugg, @eltrain80, @btsmylife21, @deeepvibes, @httpminyg, @deliciouslydisturbed365, @rkchmestizangmaldita, @jimin-chu, @pimpnameyannie, @preciouschimine, @daughterofthequeen, @monetsberet, @vanillamyg, @aamxxrii, @kooafraid, @ladykadyrova, @singjisu, @yazanii

Some people couldn’t be tagged! I’m sorry about that!

#third wheeling #thebtswritersclub #btswritingcafe #btscreatorscorner #ficswithluv #ceo!yoongi #ceo!bts #min yoongi #yoongi angst #slow burn #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts series

814 notes · View notes

cr4yolaas · 3 years

Text

— diluc dating hcs / drabbles ( ? )

warnings . ( subtle - ish ) diluc backstory spoilers

genre . bulleted ( ? ) headcanons , fluff mixed with angst

note . bye i was supposed to write a chishiya one but my brain is dry of chishiya hcs 🤕🤕🤕🤕 forgive me aib followers . but like . this one has sm more detail than the childe one . my small burst of romantic inspo popped off

. being with diluc was difficult to an extent — it took you a bit of time and dedication to break through his heart of hardened clay , stone cold to the touch , but it was worth it in the end . the small pecks he places on your glowing skin whenever he's given the chance , rough fingers massaging your heavy bones into sleep , the words of comfort he sends your way , its all worth it.

. if someone asked him to describe you , he'd be rambling on for who knows how long . he says that multilingual poems seep from your flesh , your body crafted of the finest porcelain . diluc can capture it all in one sentence , however . he believes that if the devil were to come down before you , he'd kiss your eyelids and apologize for his sins , for in those fiery eyes that burned with an unmatched crimson , he saw you as otherworldly .

. he much prefers the early mornings spent with you over the midnight meet ups right before he's off to do his duties as the " darknight hero . " diluc adores watching the sunrise crawling on the horizon , bleeding through the curtains , and eventually , kissing against your delicate form as you awaken to the red - head's features . he wishes moments like these could last just a second longer than usual — he finds the thought selfish , but alas , he cannot hold himself back .

. trust and love is a concept that he often has troubles with . with the betrayal of the one he considered his brother and the loss of the one he admired oh so dearly , he's become hardened , a statue with dust in every crack and crevice , turning his back against the world so he wouldn't lose himself to a moment of vulnerability . even though you've carved through his barriers and made a place in his fragmented heart , he finds these troubles carrying into your relationship , and he absolutely loathes it . every now and then , there's that hint of wariness laced in his usually soft gaze , his voice dull yet piercing as his syllables reek of uninterest and slight distrust . he hopes you understand — the last thing he wants to do is hurt you .

. on days in which you stop by the tavern while he works , he finds himself being a bit more productive than usual . your mere presence seems to lift him up , distracting him from the overwhelming drunkards that fill the building . even if you're just sitting there , reading away at whatever book has caught your interest or the paperwork you've been tasked with , he can't help but smile .

. the maids at the winery have grown fond of you and your relationship with master diluc . the cotton - crafted smile you wear becomes rather contagious . truth be told , diluc is more than grateful for this . he's glad to know that if he can't assist you , there are most definitely others who can .

. night is but a stressful time for the man . as he returns home , his hands riddled with sweat and disarray , he collapses into the couch placed near the fireplace . he takes note of the spare plate of food you always leave for him on the table , a small note attached right beside . and once he gets the energy , he calls out for you , falling asleep at your touch as you comb through his tangled locks .

. dates aren't the most common , what with his busy schedule and your daily work . however , when he's given the chance to take you out , he goes all out . often times , he'll take you to starsnatch cliff , a blanket and picnic basket prepared at the top , cecilias scattered across the grass . if there ever comes a missed date opportunity , he'll often settle for a small gift , ranging from pretty stones he found on his travels to jewelry that he bought while on a trip to liyue .

#help these were a lot less like hcs LMAO m sorry i got carried away #genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact fic #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact hcs #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact diluc #genshin diluc #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc x y/n

147 notes · View notes

we-love-imagines · 3 years

Note

Yo! I absolutely love your headcanons, not only they are spot on, but they are really detailed and well written. It's always a pleasure to read them! If you don't mind, could you write some dating headcanons for italian boy Caesar? Keep up with your amazing work ^^

Ahhhhh! This ask made my day, you’re the sweetest <3 I’ve been meaning to write more for Caesar!!!

The reader here is gender neutral, but there are some implied gender roles in some of these hcs (Caesar likes to be the more traditionally masculine partner). Please enjoy!

Caesar Dating Headcannons

~Caesar is a flagrant Casanova. Before he met you, he always had someone new with him every other week. Initially, he and his friends thought that you were just another fling- but imagine their surprise when those few weeks together turn into a month, then two months, then six months... In what feels like the blink of an eye, Caesar has been dating you for a year! He doesn’t want you to know too much about his promiscuous past, so you’ll only find out how rare and special this is from his friends.

~We all know this man is all about grand displays of love. Every birthday, anniversary, and romantic holiday has some big gesture planned. Many of his tricks are clichés straight out of the movies: a ‘secret admirer’ leaving presents at your doorstep, surprise picnics on sunny afternoons, or over-dramatized, boisterous confessions of love as you stand above him on a balcony. If this man ever proposes to you, you know he’ll be on his A-game. While his romantic gestures often catch you off-guard, they sweep you off your feet every time!

~He’s very traditional when it comes to gift-giving. He likes to give flowers, expensive clothing or jewelry, and lovely little boxes of chocolate. However, he loves receiving gifts just as much as giving them. He’d never tell you this; he’s a little old-fashioned in the sense that he thinks it’s a little emasculating to receive gifts from one’s partner, and that he should be a provider. But he just can’t help the smile that creeps onto his face when you surprise him with tickets to a show, an expensive bottle of wine, or any kind of traditional Italian dish. For his birthday one year, you got him a fancy wine glass with his initials carved into the base. He almost started crying.

~Caesar has a very classy palette when it comes to cuisine. He favors the food of his country, finding it superior to anything else the world at large could offer. Despite this- he’ll eat anything you make for him. He finds it rude to reject someone’s hard work, so if you put anything you make in front of him, he’ll clear his plate. It sucks for him if you’re bad in the kitchen, but he’ll still praise you and compliment your burnt delicacies any day (albeit, with tears in his eyes from just how horrible your kitchen smells!). If you’re good at cooking/ baking, his compliments will be more genuine. Now, if you cook him authentic Italian food? You become his personal chef. He’ll refuse to eat anywhere else.

~Caesar really wants to come off as a storybook, Prince Charming kind of boyfriend. It might be from the stories he heard when he growing up or the dramatic romances he sees in those Italian soap operas he loves so much, but that’s what he’s trying to live up to. This leaves him bottling up a lot of his emotions around you, not wanting you to see the more vulnerable and darker sides of him. It’s only with a lot of time and affirmations of trust that he’ll open up to you, but he still struggles to tell the full story when it’s something very upsetting. He’s afraid you’ll see him as weak for doing so, even if you tell him otherwise. It may be a high bar to clear, but he wants to be perfect for you.

~Building off that last point, his unwillingness to open up leads to him hiding a lot of important information from you too. Again, this may be his flair for the dramatic and his desire to give you the most romantic love story possible, but it’s not rare for him to wake you up in the middle of the night saying “I have to go do something important. It may be a while before I return, amore,” and disappearing for weeks on end. These stints are usually long bits of training with Lisa Lisa, or something Hamon related, but he’ll never tell you the full story. Even when he comes home covered in bandages, he won’t give in to your pestering in an effort to keep you out of all the fighting. It annoys you to no end, but he’s stubborn.

~If you yourself are a Hamon user, he’ll want you as far away from any fighting as possible. He was raised with the idea that he was supposed to be a provider and protector in a relationship- so how can he protect his beloved if you’re fighting alongside him? It takes multiple battles and dances with death for him to be more okay with you in the line of action. He’ll never be a big fan of the idea, just more comfortable with it.

~He’s very nervous to move in with you. Part of him is afraid part of your romance will die when you see his private habits and you’re around each other constantly. To make up for this, he tries to be all romance all the time at first- trying to make out with you at 6am, slow dancing every single night in the living room, wearing his finest clothes around the house while you’re in your PJs. While it’s charming to see him put so much effort to impress you at first, it gets old for you both very quickly, and you two eventually acclimate to a very comfortable daily routine. He’ll never let you get too lost in the domestic grind, though, always having a sweet surprise ready for you after a bad day.

~Caesar is the jealous type. This mostly comes from his days as a flirt- he knows all of the best tricks, and when he sees others making moves on you, he can’t help but get miffed. He’ll either shoo your pursuers away or find an excuse for both of you to leave. After the incident is over and done with, you’ll have to comfort him a bit to get him to cool down, but after that, he’ll be all about giving you kisses and cuddles to make sure you don’t leave him. Part of this comes from a bit of guilt; in his time as a Casanova, he got with a few people who were already in relationships. Now that he’s on the other end of that, he understands the fear of your partner leaving you for someone else.

~Caesar is very big on presence. Even if you’re both busy, both doing completely separate things from one another, he likes just being near you. Reading side-by-side, watching movies together, or doing work in the same room always brings him comfort. While he certainly likes sparking conversation and doing things with you more than anything, just being able to bask in your presence is enough.

~After long, tiring days, Caesar loves to blow you bubbles. You both think it’s very childish, but you both can’t help but laugh when he’s able to make them into crazy shapes as they fly up into the sky. It works every time.

~While a little over-the-top, Caesar will give you a love story worthy of the big screen!

#jjba x reader #jjba #caesar x reader #jjba caesar #Caesar Zeppeli #caesar jjba #jjba headcanons #Battle Tendency #jojos bizarre adventure #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #sfw #inbox is open!

81 notes · View notes

karanoid · 4 years

Text

about top joe discord

LET ME ADDRESS A FEW POINTS:

There has been many fear and anxiety regardless the top!joe discord I made. I understand how it gives my discord a bad reputation. Somebody has kindly reached out to me to ask me addressing several points, which I’m now gonna clarify:

1. I am racist, I asked why, and they said mostly because of my dismissive behavior to people who called me out for drawing yusuf adorned in gold jewelry which made their friends feel unsafe. So, I am a muslim and was raised in a muslim household and community. I am fucking brown.

I didn’t say it because you don’t need to know that about me. What bothers me is how some people feel the need to come to my inbox informing me “maam yusuf is a religious muslim who prays 5 times a day and do all the supplementary prayers all while he drinks alcohol and fuck nicky in the dailies, he wouldnt be wearing gold maam no maam.” as if I didn’t know any better. so please, now don’t do that. If you care so much about the littlest details like wearing gold then you’ll also call out yusuf because he draws living beings and drinks champagne. yes it’s true muslim men are forbidden from wearing gold AND silk but let’s not forget, nothing in the comic and movies imply yusuf has ever been religious. It’s easier to see nicolo as religious because he was a fucking priest. Yusuf was a fucking merchant, it’s easy to see that he’d be less faithful because he would have been travelling and seen many kind of people to broaden his horizons and not contained to a little bubble of hyper religious community. However, let me remind you: whether yusuf AND nicolo are religious or not is entirely UP TO THE AUTHOR/ARTIST. It’s totally fine to make him religious and if you can respect it THATS GREAT, I ALSO LIKE HIM THAT WAY, but please remember it’s not even canon and hey sometimes I just draw things because I like the aesthetics. Also please, do not harass writers for getting a thing or two incorrect, even white people cannot get christianity correct, even between two muslims could be a disagreement whether this fic’s yusuf is problematic or not. I wouldn’t even expect anything more and THAT’S OKAY. Just don’t be an ass to muslims of color in real life and don’t fall into the believe that it’s a religion of violence. you can say that greg made him that way bc he knew nothing better but hey, I have no problem with that. again, it’s fine to make him religious, I’d be delighted but it’s ALSO fine to make him not religious.

2. I think that people only write Top!Nicky out of political correctness. OKAY. I apologize for this. I thought like this because I have accounts telling me that they were pressured into writing top!nicky or they wanted more readerships so I make a BIG assumption. I realized this is only a small part of switch and top!nicky fics and the big bulk of this must be out of genuine care. So yeah, I apologize for thinking that people only write top!nicky out of political correctness. I think writers should be allowed to write whatever they want. Yes this includes top!Nicky. And in whatever kinks they want it. However, this still doesn’t change that the discourses do scare people away from writing top!joe. Write top!nicky however you want, but stop vague-blogging about top!joe. racism isn’t inherent to top!joe and you can always remind people to be mindful with their writings but discouraging people from writing top!joe is not the solution.

3. Top!joe is racist and people in the discord are racist. Okay, I am gonna touch several aspects why top!joe discord is considered racist: (1) because I don’t like to switch them, therefore I am racist. Sorry that’s not how it works. I have a clear preference and that’s just how I roll. Besides, a lot of people in the discord (including me) think either they switch (because they are 900 yo) or joe just doesn’t like bottoming. I’m not the kind of people who refers to reality for fiction I consume but people who prefer to top or to bottom exist (2) i want to be away from accountability and responsibility. Nope. The reason I made it is because I wanted to gather people with same interest as mine.

4. I paint Yusuf as aggressive and the whole discord like him being an aggressive top. I think this is the only reason why the discord is seen in a negative light. Because wow what a coincidence that someone vagueblogged my discord at the day I celebrated about Nicky suggesting 20 years and wrote a post about how Joe is allowed to be angry. And beside someone made the WRONG assumption that we are focusing on Joe’s anger and violence (what). Okay, I don’t know how to break this down. But I will try. First, yes I was overjoyed at the news. Because I’m one of the people that do not like feral!nicky headcanon. I liked it at first bc it was funny but then it was twisted into Nicky being cold. So I don’t like it (lol), I still like it though but like I don’t seriously think that way. However, I never liked the idea that Nicky suggested higher than Joe. Because then his character just doesn’t click with me, there was a cognitive dissonance for me because joe clearly says nicky’s heart overflows kindness, you can see nicky as a medic in the credit montage. Also, from their body language and from the way the movie set em up, I think Joe is the one who suggested higher and I am glad to be proven right. Second, I did write a post about how Joe is allowed to be angry at Booker. People agreed with me, so I was not alone. But the reason I wrote that post is not because I wanted to paint yusuf as aggressive, but because I’m tired at people who think Joe shouldn’t display any negative emotions. I think it’s out of character. I do NOT think Joe is aggressive. That is NOT his wholeass personality. If you looked at my tog art tag, never once I portrayed Joe as anything aggressive. If I do, please show me. Third, people are conflating this with my post where I reblogged with a comment that implies aggressive Joe isn’t racism. Okay in this, the context is IN BED. It’s Joe being aggressive in BED. It’s literally BED ROLES AND FANTASY. I don’t even have a particular scenario in my head when I reblogged that, the original post clearly refers to bed roles with manhandling and kinks etc. like, why would you spank someone in public? Lastly, about the discord, NOPE, most people in the discord agree that Joe is either a GENTLE DOM or SERVICE TOP. But in my opinion, if someone likes Joe as an aggressive top (again, bed roles baby) I really don’t think it’s racism. It’s just... projection?

anyway, back to joe’s emotions, these are posts from a moroccan man (paragraph #7) and a brown woman whose posts I agree with. Let’s be real, people of color are expected to shut up in favor of white people’s fragile feelings.

Now, about racism in fandom. I understand the concern because muslim men are painted as violent and aggressive. You know what I will never forgive those radicals for taking away innocents lives and to leave a lasting damage in how muslims are perceived in the west. However, you have to keep in mind, Joe in the movie is far from being stereotyped. I mean, Gina and Marwan practically greenlit him? Now, you might have concerns that writers are gonna turn him into a walking stereotype which is... okay, I understand that concern. But the solution is to communicate this ‘hey I think you make him too stereotypical in this etc etc’ not “write more top!nicky AND shame top!joe” because again, top!joe is not inherently racist.

also some people mentioned that they hope I recognize racial bias in the ship. dude, that goes without saying, all aspects of your life will be influenced by racial biases. however, this kind of thing is not specific to fandom/shipping. Like I said I’m fucking brown, friends and families with facial features that cater to white expectation are treated better. I did say at the bottom of this post, yeah I did notice why it’s always a brown character who’s always openly mad. And that’s in itself a form of racial bias. Racial biases affect everyone, white or POC, it doesn’t matter. But I got an issue with how people think this is racism. like how convenient, if by falling to racial biases mean you are a racist then what about those white people who created this racial biases in the first place? and I noticed the persons who got the audacity to cry about everything in this fandom is white?? I mean okay, they don’t know what I am, but not everyone is comfortable with sharing their private information like ethnic group, faith, etc. what if they really don’t want to share it? Because like you said, racial bias, whether good or bad will affect me. Now, I don’t know what white people are feeling, I’m not white. However, based on my interactions with them. We’re all just people sharing same interest, it could be they fall into racial biases, but all we shared about are just regular HCs. Even people making a conscious effort to combat racial bias still in essence fall for racial bias. You just cannot escape it.

According to this post, fandom assumes that the bottom is the proxy of writers, I don’t think this is applicable to everyone but let’s just say it’s true and people tend to write about their projection better so I’m gonna assume the racism part comes from the fact that..yeah I do think the bottom usually gets more fleshed out as a result of them being the writers proxy, so somebody posted this in the discord which I agree because yes I do think there’s a lack about yusuf’s background especially when it comes to crusade era:

but since I know most writers aren’t muslims, to me it’s not so much about racism but they simply know nothing about it, and not always out of ignorance either but in this climate, if you get a thing or two wrong you’d get harassed. so *shrugs* I understand the reluctancy. But here’s the thing, this is not about top/bottom issue but because most of the fandom are white so they have more freedom in writing the white character. Anyway, plenty of people have projected themselves into yusuf already, the whole “top/bottom” thing in this fandom is not even a thing. Yes, some writers project on the bottom so if you prefer bottom!joe that’s fine, somebody in the discord is doing a research and it turned out top!joe wasn’t even a CLEAR majority in JULY. So clearly they got their share already?

so please, let’s stop with the vitriol. if people are preferring top!joe it’s clearly because of different preferences. it’s not that deep. it’s the same way with how some people are preferring top!nicky. But we’re being driven out based on a hypothetical scenarios? like what do you want? for us to cease existing??? don’t be ridiculous.

I know people won’t listen to me. So this is my suggestion: LETS JUST IGNORE THINGS YOU DON’T LIKE. LET’S ALL JUST AGREE TO DISAGREE.

#discourse #the old guard #joe x nicky #kaysanova #immortal husbands

193 notes · View notes

wellhellotragic · 3 years

Text

These Wounds Won't Seem to Heal 3/4

Summary: It’s not her fault. She’s still new and doesn’t know. He’s not flawless. Not anymore. He’s got scars, ones she’s seen first hand. Ones she helped tend to. His body is covered in them. There’s a thin red line where he took a bottle to the face during his early beat cop days. There’s another angry red mark on his torso from where he was stabbed with a knife in his ribs. The one where he had his hand slammed in a locker as a teenager has long since faded, only the barest hint remaining, only visible in just the right lighting.

There’s two oval scars now too. One in his stomach and one on his chest. Those are from the worst day of her life.But none of those scars compare to the ones he carries on the inside. The self-inflicted cuts he makes to his soul never quite healing over. He blames himself. It’s not his fault.

There’s a scar on her soul now too. One he left. A piece of her heart forever missing.

Rating: Mature (mostly for language)

A/N: Guy, I suck so hard core. I don't even know how I let so much time lapse between chapter 2 and now, and then to really top off my suck-o-meter, I realized that there's going to have to be a chapter 4 because I can't fix what I've done so easily. Not realistically at least. I promise, and happy ending is coming though, and it won't take me another 8 months to get it up. I hope to have it up and finished by the weekend.

The AO3 version

It’s been a hell of a night. She’s not sure where exactly it falls on her list of worst days ever, but it’s in her top five. It has to be. It’s not the worst, that honor is saved for the night she almost lost Killian, but it’s still up there. She’s spent hours now going through all of the details over and over again with Graham and Lance, her story never changing. Getting poked and prodded by EMTs, despite telling everyone that she’s fine.

She’s not, but they can’t stitch up her insides.

David, her partner, on the other hand has a bullet hole in his leg. Better than his head though.

She’s not even sure if she can fully reconcile everything that happened. She and David were investigating the death of a low profile importer, a nobody, interviewing some dock workers that had found the body. Some gruff looking men who easily blended in with the usual fishmongers and cargo sorters.

But they weren’t. She realized it just a second too late, right before a bag was pulled over her head. She fought like hell, but she was at a disadvantage. From what she heard, David had put up a fight as well, but in the end, it was useless, and she lost consciousness with a sharp blow to the head.

She woke up strapped down to a chair with David the same a few feet beside her. She shouldn’t have been surprised, Jefferson had always given her a bad feeling, but she never actually thought he’d go dirty. She certainly never expected to be facing the wrong side of his department issued sidearm.

Even now, everything is still a blur. Graham assured her it’s the shock, that it’ll fade once the adrenaline wears off; that everything will clear up after a good night's rest. She’s not sure about that though. It’s four in the morning now and the adrenaline seems to be hanging on for dear life still and she knows she's not going to rest any time soon. Humbert offered to drive her home but she declined, choosing to wait for August to finish wrapping up his report.

She’s not sure what time it is when they finally arrive at her apartment. The battery in her cell phone died ages ago. Neither of them even make a move for the fridge, choosing to bypass the beer she keeps stocked for the hard nights. Instead, the two of them move in silence to her room. She plugs in her cell before crawling in bed next to him, like when they were kids in Ingrid’s foster house. She’s not sure who’s comforting who at this point, but she knows that she just needs to be with family.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She doesn’t, but she knows she needs to or it’ll eat her alive. She’s tried that once already and it ended up with her almost having a complete nervous breakdown and a three week leave of absence with daily Archie sessions.

“I don’t even know where to start.”

It’s true. So much has happened in the last twelve hours, there’s no one easy to pinpoint place to begin. So August goes first. He fills in the blanks that he can, so that she might be able to piece together the rest. He tells her about Killian sending him undercover, about Jefferson and missing drugs and money. How Jefferson was helping to conceal evidence that would link Walsh and the Nikko empire to a wide distribution of pixie dust.

Some of it is just speculation, that Jefferson must have figured out they were closing in on him and that’s why he went for Emma, and David was probably just collateral damage. How he most likely picked Emma because he knew how much she meant to him , and while he didn’t say Killian’s name specifically, the implication hung over her like a heavy cloud.

“Before you got there, he told Killian to choose. Between me and David I mean. To pick which one of us would live and which one would die. And then he just started laughing and screaming in this crazed voice that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget.”

It was the single most terrifying thing she’d ever heard. The mania that accompanied it. She already knew that it was going to haunt her for months to come, if not longer.

It’s a real Gracie’s choice. Gracie’s choice Killian. GRACIE’s CHOICE!!!

She felt August shift next to her.

“Gracie was his daughter. She died while he was undercover with a Southie Gang. Killian was undercover with Cruella at the time. It was a freak accident, a gas leak and the house went up in flames, but he was convinced that she was killed by one of the De Vil boys. He told me once that he knew Killian had given him up as a snitch to prove his worth. The De Vil’s had nothing to do with the Southie boys, but he’d twisted it up in his mind. I never thought he’d do anything about it though. It was just crazy drunk venting one night.”

She knows August. Knows that he’s blaming himself for what happened tonight, but she ignores it. Nothing she says will stop him from tormenting himself, and she’s not done.

“I told him to choose David. He has this whole perfect life, you know. An adoring wife and a new baby, all of these people that would miss him if he were gone. I told Killian to save David, and I-” She hates how small she feels when she cries, but she can’t hold back the tears. “He gave me this look. He’s been cold, but this was something different. There was just so much anger in his eyes.”

And that’s when she breaks. Knowing that hated her was one thing, but watching him train his gun on her. Seeing the pure darkness in his eyes. She doesn’t know how to voice it to August, but she knows that if August hadn’t arrived when he did, she knows he would have done as she asked. That he wouldn’t have had to think twice about it. And it’s that knowledge that sliced open the last piece of her heart that had been hanging on by a thread, even after all that time.

August holds her through the tears, until she finally exhausts herself enough to sleep. And so she drifts off, completely unaware of the new voicemail alert waiting for her.

________________________________

The February air is cooler on the water and he kicks himself for not bringing a heavier jacket. It’s been ages since he’s been out on this boat, and time has helped him to forget everything except for the things he wishes he could. Liam always used to tease him, so much so that Killian would reject any offers of warmth from his brother just to prove a point. He wasn’t some silly kid that needed to be minded anymore. He was capable of doing everything on his own, except for bringing an extra coat. He forgot everytime, and today was no exception.

Luckily for Killian, the spare that Liam kept on the boat just for him is still in its place, folded neatly in a small storage locker below deck. It hits him in the gut a little, that Liam could be so right about some things and incredibly wrong about others.

It’s eating Killian alive, not talking to his brother. Not being able to express himself because despite everything Emma has done for him, Liam still doesn’t approve of her. Liam often still thinks of him as the teenage boy, awkward and desperate for approval from anyone that will give it to him, even if it means getting taken advantage of.

He’s not that kid anymore though. He isn’t letting his crush steal his essays and letting her claim this as her own. He isn’t using all of his hard earned money to buy her jewelry that she’s just going to pawn for cash later. He isn’t following after Emma like a lost puppy dog.

He’s in love with her, and he has a sneaking suspicion that she feels the same way. But at this rate, he’s never going to get Liam’s blessing, the only approval he needs anymore.

He shouldn’t be thinking about this now. He really shouldn’t. Not when he and Liam are sitting in a rented dilapidated loft across from an abandoned fabric warehouse waiting for the Canal Street Cutter to emerge. There had been a lot of chatter that morning about where he might be hiding and Liam assembled teams throughout South Boston hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

Emma and August were stationed about eight blocks over. Lance and Arthur were on the edge of South Boston and Waterfront. Other teams were scattered, but too far away to get to if they needed assistance.

Killian had tried to tell Liam that it was a bad idea to spread everyone so thin, but the elder Jones brother had been instant and headstrong as ever. It would have been a career making arrest, and Liam, ever aspiring to be more just wouldn’t let that chance pass him by.

“I just think that you have other obligations that require your attention right now.”

“If this is the bros before hoes speech you can just save it.”

“Killian,” The exasperation evident in his brother's tone, “you know I detest such vile language. It's crude and you are better than that little brother.”

“What obligations?” He has to quash his desire to correct his brother’s description of him.

“I just think that you are meant for so much more in this life and I worry that you gave up so much when you left the narcotics division to follow her into homicide. You were a rising star there and now you’re having to cut your teeth all over again.”

“It’s not as if I’m starting all over. For God’s sake Liam, I just made Lieutenant. But there’s more to life than a job.”

His brother takes his gaze away from the binoculars to turn to Killian.

“Look at father and all of his vices. It strayed him from the path. But you, Killian, you persevered and now everything you've wanted is in your grasp.”

“This isn't the same thing and you know it. Emma isn't some pathetic man’s addiction. Liam, I'm in love with her.”

“Killian,” Liam pauses, taking a deep breath. “She's a distraction. Think of all that you’ve accomplished in the year that you were undercover. You brought down an entire crime syndicate. You did that without her taking your attention away.”

“I didn't bring the De Vil family down because ‘we’ were apart. I did it because we were ‘apart’ and I knew the only way I'd be able to see her again without putting her in harm's way would be to find the evidence and make the arrest.”

“Fine, if you need another reason, have you thought about working directly with her, or even over her in a supervisory position? Have you considered how your personal relationship with a subordinate could affect your judgment?”

“It’s not-”

Liams sees movement in the distance, cutting off Killian’s rebuttal, but his view is obscured so he motions for Killian to follow him, to leave the safety of their little room. They stay silent as they walk downstairs and head out a propped-open door leading to an alleyway. They had to wind through hallways to get from the loft outside and now they’re further away from the warehouse with no cover.

Killian even tries pointing out how visible they are, but Liam shuts him down, determined to close the case. He’s halfway sure that Liam’s trying to prove a point about how Killian can’t be successful and be in a relationship with Emma. He’s seen it before, the way professional jealousy destroys couples. But Emma’s not like that. She wouldn’t see his success as her failure.

They try to skirt the perimeter and he knows he should keep his mouth shut, this just isn’t the time, but he’s just so frustrated that he can’t keep holding it in.

“Please don’t make me choose between you.” It’s an angry whisper, more to himself than anything, and even though he did his best to keep his volume low it’s still enough that Liam’s heard and turns back to him, missing sight of the empty beer bottle at his feet.

The glass battering against the gravel echoes through the night as they both stay silent, waiting to see if they’ve been heard. The air is still around them, and Killian thinks they just might have lucked out.

And then he hears the gunshots ring out.

Liam is on the ground before Killian has time to register what’s happened. He runs to Liam, but gets knocked to the ground before he can get to him. His body hurts and he can see blood covering his hand from where he just touched his abdomen. He’s always heard people say that the shock blocks out the pain, but they must all be liars, because the longer he lays there, the more the pain intensifies.

It takes everything he has to pull himself behind a dumpster, half crawling, half slithering like a snake.

The shock eventually did kick in though, because even to this day he has no memory of radioing in for help. Just the vague memories of Emma leaning over him. The look in her eyes as she tried her best to hold back tears.

The same tears he fought back the night he left Boston, like the coward he was. But Archie was right. He needed to get his head on straight, to distance and center himself. He had to leave, for her.

He’s still wrestling with the guilt. He talked about it with Archie, how she begged him to kill her and save David. And that he actually considered it for about two full seconds. Not because he wanted to, but because he didn’t want her feeling the way he did. The burden of knowing that someone else was dead, and knowing that no matter how good you are, how hard you try, that you’ll never live up to them. He didn’t want her hating herself the way he did. Didn’t want her to destroy herself like he had.

But then something snapped inside of him and rage bubbled up. The audacity of her to beg him to kill her. For her to try and force that decision on him, with no regard to him or his feelings.

It was at that moment that he finally realized what he’d been doing to her ever since Liam had passed away. He finally understood the choice she’d been forced to make that night. And he knew - he knew that despite it all - he could never live with himself if he’d chosen anyone but her. That he couldn’t let her go just like she didn’t with him.

The only thing that saved him was Boothe. In the moments that passed after August arrived, while the two of them tried to wrestle the gun away from Jefferson, he felt the weight of Liam’s death wash over him. And then he heard a shot ring out and there was nothing but panic. Panic and guilt.

It felt as though ages had passed as he searched for Emma in the smoke filled room. The SWAT team had moved in at some point, but he’d been too focused on fighting off Jefferson to notice. He pushed through the sting in his eyes and the tightness of his chest as he looked for her, but all he saw through the haze were armored cops everywhere.

It wasn’t until he was forcibly escorted outside the building that he saw her, saw that she was safe, and then his stomach turned. He ran around a corner away from all of the prying eyes, and for the first time in his career, he gave in and let the night overcome him.

It’s been nearly a year since that night and he’s been running ever since. Some days are better than others. The anger is mostly behind him, but some nights he still wakes up in a sweat clutching his bed sheets, ready to fight. But there’s never anyone around to take a swing at, because he’s all alone. He’s pushed away anyone that ever mattered and isolated himself on that damn boat.

He thinks of Emma, wonders if she’s moved on or not. He’s too cowardly to call her, partly because he has no idea what he will say if she answers, but mostly because he’s terrified that she won’t answer. So he broods. He takes to the local bars as he sails the coastline and drinks a little too much before stumbling back to Liam’s boat alone. It’s a wonder nobody’s robbed him yet for what a careless sot he’s been.

Tonight is one of those nights. He’s made his way down to Florida and back, only a few hours away from Boston, and his demons are screaming again. He’s hoping against all hope that the rum in the tumbler across from him will help quiet them. Just holding the small glass in his fingertips helps a bit. A placebo of sorts. He doesn’t want to be this man anymore though. This pathetic lonely human. He doesn’t want to feel this way anymore, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. Archie said that him realizing it was a good first step but he’s not sure if he agrees. He’s called Archie a lot over the last year. Somehow doing therapy over the phone as the boat sways back and forth under his feet has helped to ease his hesitancy. There’s something about knowing that he can hang up at any time if he wants, and that no one knows. No one will judge him.

They don’t talk about Emma, not in present tense at least. They’ve had conversations about the way he’s treated her in the past, about his complicated feelings for her, the way it’s all shaped him, but they never talk about her now. He’s not sure if it’s because Archie doesn’t know if he’s ready for that, or if Archie knows something that he’s absolutely not ready for.

Archie is here tonight though, the rum is.

He’s still twirling the amber in his hand as he hears the familiar scraping of a nearby barstool against a wooden floor. There’s a scent that follows, a floral perfume that doesn’t match with the musk of the dive bar. He doesn’t look at her directly, doesn’t need to when he can see her from the mirror behind the bar. Her top is low, flashing more skin that it’s covering. She’s closer than he thought.

“Is that for me?” She’s bold.

He’s reminded of those early days on the force, when he wouldn’t even have to talk to a woman. When he could just flash her a smile and she’d be on his arm heading out the door to her place. He’s not that guy though, he’s salty and cynical, and the look he flashes her is closer to a smirk.

“Excuse me?” “Well, you’ve been toying with it for almost twenty minutes. I just thought maybe you were waiting for me to walk into your life.”

Was he this bad at picking up women?

“Look, I’m not trying to be rude, but I’m not in the mood for woman.” “So you’re gay?”

It’s a good thing he hasn’t started drinking yet because he damn well might have chocked otherwise. He doesn’t get a chance to respond though. The bubbly blonde that served him his rum has returned with a spray bottle in hand. “Mary of Mothers. Didn’t I already have you escorted out of here tonight, Teresa?”

“Bite me, Tinkerbelle.”

The girl behind the bar might be all of five foot tall but there’s a beast inside her that towers over any man in that bar and before he knows what’s happening the bartender is drowning the girl in what smells like stainless steel cleaner and the words coming out of her mouth would make any Navy man blush.

The girl ends up running away and Killian isn’t sure what to make of any of it. He’s broken up bar fights before, but he’s never seen anything quite like that.

“Sorry about that. I know this little bar might not seem like much, but it’s all I’ve got and I’ll be damned if I let the likes of her selling her body in here.” “Oh, she wasn’t-” “Trust me, where you had agreed upfront or not, you would have been light whatever cash you have left in that wallet before the night was up. And I’ll bet you dollars to pennies you would have had a lovely little itch or two down there.” She nods her head towards his crotch before switching the subject like she hadn’t just implied the poor woman from before was an STD ridden whore. “So, I haven’t seen you here before. Where you from?”

He’s not sure how she’s disarmed him so quickly, but he finds himself telling her all about himself over the next hour. Business has slowed down and her other barmate seems to be more than capable of handling the few strays still walking in.

She makes him laugh too with her feisty spirit. It’s been far too long since he’s felt at ease like this. They talk and talk. Not about much in particular, just random conversation. She bought the bar about six years ago, and tells him about how it’s let her build the family she always wanted and never really got. She’s carved out her own little place in the world and he envies her that. The way she can just lay her whole life bare to a complete stranger while he can’t even talk to the people that know him best.

The night rolls on and it’s time to close up. He half expects that she’s going to invite him upstairs, to the little apartment she mentioned earlier, but she surprises him. She’s done that a few times tonight, but this one hits him in the gut. “So, what’s her name?”

This time he actually does chock on the water she’s poured for him.” “I’m sorry, what?”

“Killian, in the last few hours, you’ve told me your entire life story, everything from your shitty father to your arrogant brother, your job, your leave of absence, but you haven’t mentioned a girl one single time. You’re holding back, which means there’s something to hold back.”

“You don’t know that. I could be gay.” “Um, ya, I saw you check out Teresa’s rack earlier, definitely not gay. So what’s the deal.” He doesn’t want to talk about it, but he doesn’t want to be rude either. So he gives her as little as possible, but she sees through him. In fact, she actually asks him what the hell he’s waiting for as she pushes him out the door.

He doesn’t really know what he’s waiting for to be honest. He’s wanted to go back to Boston, but there’s just so many threads he left unravelled when he left.

#These Wounds Won't Seem to Heal #Captain Swan #captain swan ff #CS fanfics

24 notes · View notes

hela-avenger · 4 years

Text

To the Stars Who Listen- 9a

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 2177

Summary: When Loki desires to never fall in love, he casts a spell to prevent such a thing from happening. Except, well, in the matters of love and magic, you never know the result it may have in the end. Loki x Reader

A/N: Ok so I started to write this and then had to go back to edit it and then I added more and then it was all just angst and it was just getting so long and I couldn’t fix it. ANYWHO, the Halloween special will now be two parts. I’m really hoping it won’t be three but we shall have to wait and see.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE! Please be safe out there!

Tags are open! (Send me an ask/message/response.)

TTSWL Masterlist

Loki refrained from groaning as he stepped into the jet that would take them back to the Tower. Sam and Bucky were fighting over the pilot seat while Wanda was chattering loudly about the costume she had managed to find for herself and Vision. Loki catches your eye and he can tell you wish to speak to him. He doesn’t allow you the chance as he storms out of the seating area in preference of the solitude found in the back.

The quinjet finally sets out of the compound and Loki manages to survive the short ride without being pulled into whatever conversation you wish to have with him. You most likely wanted to know the truth behind what you had revealed previously. An answer he would refuse to give you.

Loki is almost cornered by you in the arrival at the tower but by sheer luck, you are called away by the AI allowing Loki to peacefully make his way down to his residential floor. The peace he had in mind at the return of his familiar abode is disrupted at the sight of Thor waiting for him there.

Loki’s annoyance grows at the sight of his brother regaled in his Asgardian armor swinging Mjolnir with ease.

“Welcome back, brother.”

Loki just grunts in response as he tries to maneuver around the big oaf.

“I went ahead and prepared your armor for the party tonight,” Thor continues with a smile. “It should be a merry night full of drinking and dancing. We should thoroughly enjoy it.”

“I’m not going to that party.”

“Why not?”

“Because I refuse to partake in Midgardian celebrations.”

“I would think you would enjoy this one, Loki. It’s all about mischief and magic.”

Loki rubs his eyes tiredly.

“I am quite tired, brother. I am in no mood for festivities.”

“You never are,” Thor states, forcing Loki to stop right outside his bedroom door. “You always hide out here and avoid having any fun. You’ve been here for months, Loki, and you have failed to participate in any way or form to enjoy humanity.”

“I hate this place,” Loki responds. “Why would I try to find some silver lining?”

“If that is the case then perhaps I should report to father that you have made no progress and have you sent back home.”

That definitely deepens the foul mood Loki was already in.

“If I go to this party will you refrain from reporting to father?”

Thor thinks for a few seconds before relenting.

“Yes, I would.”

“Great, good,” Loki mutters as he slips into the darkness of his room. “I’m not wearing my armor though.”

“Then what will you wear?”

Loki doesn’t respond promptly slamming the door closed to Thor’s face.

The lab was as pristine and proper as the day before you had come in and destroyed it. The wall had been repaired and the equipment that had been easily thrown before was now bolted to the ground. You let out a sigh as you try to forget that dark moment of your life when you had turned against your friends for no reason.

You still couldn’t remember what happened but it still shook you to the very core. The truth was something everyone valued and yet you had overlooked the darkness it could truly hold. Lying didn’t seem so bad now and you miss having the simple ability.

Shaking yourself from that thought, you scanned the rest of the room looking for the man of the hour.

The moment the jet landed at the tower you were promptly told by FRIDAY that Tony requested your presence in the lab.

You tried to make a quick stop towards the Asgardian floor but the AI had overlooked your floor request in preference of following its creator’s demand.

The lab remained silent after you came in. FRIDAY had announced your presence but Tony was nowhere to be seen. You felt yourself being watched but could find no one. You were starting to grow paranoid which didn’t help when a loud bang resonated nearby.

Your head snaps towards the source of the crash and you relax when you realize it’s just Dum-E hitting against the nearby desk.

“Oh Dum-E, I thought I was…”

“BOO!”

You jump at the sudden shout behind you. Out of pure instinct, you throw your hands in front of you causing your gauntlets to shoot out two straight lines of energy. The beams scorch two black spots on the recently repaired wall.

“Well that’s new.”

You turn around and glare at Tony.

“What the hell, Tony!” you shout at him. “I could have killed you.”

Tony chuckles in response and is quick to apologize.

“Sorry, kid,” he answers. “Didn’t realize you were Iron Man 2.0.”

You roll your eyes at him and laugh sarcastically at him.

“Ha, ha, ha, very funny,” you joke. “These things are the only reason I have some semblance of control.”

“Let me see them.”

You raise your hands and show him the golden gauntlets.

“Interesting design,” he mutters as he grabs a hold of them, turning them around back and forth. “I’m assuming the stones are important by their placement. I wonder what they’re made of. Carbon-based, maybe? Rare space jewel? I would have to run some tests…”

“Yeah, not possible,” you comment. “I can’t take these off. Things could go very wrong.”

Tony scowls as he lets your hands go.

“Can’t risk it for a few minutes?” Tony asks. “I’m sure I could improve them for a nicer aesthetic and easier mobility.”

“Tony…”

“Come on,” he nudges. “You don’t see me wearing my blasters because they’re comfortable. It’ll only be a few minutes. Five tops.”

You hesitate and Tony pesters on.

“Let me do this for you. It’s the least I can do if you have to wear those atrocities for the rest of your life.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek before relenting.

“Just be careful with the stones and be quick, please,” you plead at him. “I don’t wish to have a repeat of my last mishaps.”

Tony snorts as he helps you slide the gauntlets off your hands.

“Heard about that,” he snickers. “A little birdie told me and by birdie, I obviously mean Sam.”

You laugh and shake your head at him watching as he steps towards his desk and pulls out an array of files into the screen. He flips through them quickly before stopping at one.

Pepper Gift Ideas.

“Um, Tony?”

He ignores you as he opens the file up and scatters out the multiple designs he’s sketched out. You’re shocked at the multiple documents in the file but don’t have the chance to inspect them closely as Tony finds the one he was looking for.

“Here it is,” he states as he picks the design and throws it onto the screen next to his equipment. “What do you think, kid?”

“Oh, wow,” you whisper as you look at the design on display. “That’s beautiful.”

“Was tinkering for a while about making Pepper her own jewelry,” Tony responds beside you. “But she never wears what I get her.”

“I’m sure she would wear this,” you tell him. “Are you sure you want to use this design on me?”

Tony is quick to nod.

“You’ve been dealt a shitty hand with this power,” Tony answers honestly. “I just want to make things better for you in any way I can.”

“Thanks, Tony,” you tell him, heartfelt at his generosity. “Really, thank you.”

Tony clears his throat from the rising emotion and looks away. He picks up your gauntlet and begins to disassemble them.

“Now go away,” he mutters. “Let me work in peace.”

“You told me it would only be five minutes.”

“Well I lied. I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”

You roll your eyes at him and Tony simply smirks.

“I’ll have them done soon, I promise, so why don’t you go ahead and find your partner in crime, Natasha. She’s got your costume in her room.”

You hesitate but you’ve already done your daily exercises to tire your powers out. Nothing could go wrong. Or at least that’s what you hoped for.

You wince at the sharp tug of your hair. You glare at Natasha through the mirror but she simply smirks in response. You had no choice when it came to getting ready for this impromptu Halloween party. Natasha dragged you into her room the moment you showed up at her door.

You didn’t mind her help for the party. In fact, you were glad to have it as the redhead went above and beyond to have everything ready for you. From the costume to the hair and makeup, Natasha had arranged it all. All you had to do was sit there and allow her to make her vision into a reality.

Though you would use this time to catch up with your close friend, your mind was far away at the moment.

Ever since your last lesson, Loki had avoided you like the plague. Any attempt of trying to apologize to him was somehow thwarted by Loki himself or some outside force. It didn’t help that Tony’s impromptu invitation and the jet that followed severed any chance of forcing him to see you.

You felt guilty.

You had crossed a line by revealing something he wasn’t ready to when all he had done was help you. You needed to apologize and you needed to do it soon.

“Ok, spill it.”

You look up at Natasha’s pointed stare and sigh.

“I can’t hide anything, can I?” you mutter tiredly. Nat tugs on your hair again and you hiss at the action. “I’m fine, Nat. Just trying to settle my mind.”

“Of what?”

You take a deep breath debating whether it was a good idea to tell her of your past week with Loki.

Nat despised him with every fiber of her being, but you… you didn’t.

“Loki’s been a great teacher considering I’m a ticking time bomb...”

“But?” Nat interrupts.

“But,” you repeat with a huff. “I keep ruining everything with this stupid power.”

“You?” Nat asks, confused. “You ruined everything? Not him?”

“Nat…”

“I’m sorry,” she sarcastically laughs. “That doesn’t make sense. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You don’t understand,” you sigh. “If you just let me explain…”

“Then explain.”

You take a deep breath and turn away from the mirror to look at Natasha directly.

“I have invaded everyone’s privacy. I’ve learned things I have no right knowing and revealed things without permission. You already know how guilty I felt because of it,” you explain. “Yet, Loki wasn’t one of them. He’s immune to my power as I am to his but I recently crossed a line and uncovered something I wasn’t supposed to.”

“What was it?”

“You know I can’t tell you.”

Natasha huffs in response but shrugs her curiosity off.

“So?” she asks. “What’s wrong then?”

“I feel really bad about it, Nat, and he’s avoiding me and I just want to apologize to him because I invaded his privacy but he won’t even let me get close to him to do it.”

“He doesn’t need an apology,” Nat scoffs. “He’s a grown man. He can lick up his wounds and move on.”

You’re starting to regret confiding in her about your situation but Loki has yet to teach you how to evade telling the truth without necessarily resorting to lying.

“I apologized to you and everyone after my first outburst,” you remind her. “You didn’t need me to but I’m sure it helped.”

Natasha lets out a breath but she knew you had a point.

“Loki doesn’t deserve your kindness.”

She’s being honest with her opinion but you don’t feel the same way.

“I think differently,” you answer. “I think it’s been a long time since Loki’s been treated with some kindness.”

Natasha's eyes narrow down at you.

“Do you…” she hesitates. “What exactly is your relationship with him?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you acquaintances? Friends? Or is it more?”

You’re surprised at the question.

“I guess we’re friends?” you answer unsurely. “Mentor and student seems weird so yeah… friends.”

Natasha seems unconvinced but she doesn’t speak up on it. Instead, she motions you to face forward again so she could finish up with your hair.

“So do you think I’ll have time to slip out to apologize or am I going to have to wait until the party?”

Nat can’t avoid the snort from escaping her promptly earning her a confused look from you.

“Loki doesn’t go to the parties,” she tells you. “Not since I could remember.”

“Then why did he come with us in the jet?”

“Maybe because he has to monitor you and we have to monitor him?”

Nat’s right but you can only hope that Loki might prove her wrong.

“If he’s there… apologize to him,” Nat tells you hoping to ease the scowl that was settling on your face. “Just don’t expect him to forgive you. He’s not apologetic, far less forgiving.”

TTSWL Tag: @catsladen @is-it-madness @manyfandoms-marvel @mejusttryintogetby @illogicalfangirl @ariel-snow-tmnt @islinglivesinshire @musicconversedance @missmadwoman @smaranshakthi @adaydreamingdragon @poetic-fiasco @like-a-wildfire @jasminecalia @ha-tep @charbokbok @setsuna-meiou31 @ms-blvck @country-cowgirl-101 @bepo-is-sorry @hufflautia @waitforthehurricanrose @fictionalhoomanofnowhere @sanniegirl1214 @telenari @anonymouscastiel12 @ddaeing

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @sigyn-nightshade @aoirohi @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @just-a-donut-who-reads @day-dreaming-fox @heykathchuu

All Works Tag: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie @ariel-snow-tmnt @badhollandfluff @what-a-flammable-heart

180 notes · View notes

soldrawss · 4 years

Note

pls grace us with those headcanons of the human turtle bois 🥺

OK ok ok ok ok okokokokokokok I’m so fucking glad you asked because I’ve been wanting an excuse to talk about my boys for AGES now. Here and here a post I did a little while ago about how the boys came into custody with Yoshi, but I’m gonna talk about when they’re older and teens since that’s fun! Pictures of them as teens, for context, are here and here.

So they’re technically all half brothers, except for Raph and Mikey cause I wanted that relationship for them.

Raph is the oldest, at 16. Donnie and Leo are the same age, though they aren't twins, at 15. Mikey is 13. I wanted to make Mikey a little younger than the rest of them because he’s baby

Raph and Mikey are half Ghanaian, Donnie is half Italian, and Leo is half Cuban.

Yoshi still works as movie/action star Lou Jitsu, and it was Yoshi’s wish to keep his boys out of the spotlight as much as possible, so they could keep normal lives. So as far as all their schoolmates and teachers know, the Hamoto’s dad just runs a dojo on Prospect Avenue. Which is partially true, actually, and the boy’s current living place is above said dojo)

Mikey likes to express himself in the way he looks, so he’s always dying his hair and wearing bright and colorful clothing and jewelry. His favorite thing to wear is Raph’s giant sweaters, which he steals on a daily basis because he knows he can get away with it. Raph only complains about it half the time.

When Yoshi finally agreed to let Mikey get his ears pierced at age 10, Mikey was excited but secretly terrified to do it. Leo knew Mikey wanted to do it, but understood that it was scary to do it alone, so he volunteered to get his ears pierced too, using the excuse that it could be ‘their’ brother thing they did. Mikey was of course, ecstatic, and Leo didn’t mind the weird looks the other 12-year-old boys gave him on his little league team. Cause Mikey’s been parading the biggest smile on his face for the past week now, and if he’d known that it would've made the kid that happy, Leo would have gotten matching earrings years ago. (Now Leo goes with Mikey every time he gets his ears pierced. It’s sort of a fun bonding thing they get to do, and both of them enjoy the one-on-one time they get with each other.)

Even though Donnie is only a sophomore, he’s also taking concurrent classes at the local college that’s only a few blocks down the street, and even though he loves learning and is a literal little evil genius, he also hates the American education system, and actually got quite a bit of bad grades growing up before he had to teach himself how to perform and present his work the way the school could grade him properly on.

The only reason he doesn’t skip a grade or two, which he easily could if he took the aptitude tests some of his teachers try to get him to take every year, is because he doesn’t want to be separated from Leo.

Donnie has 4 sets of glasses at home because he’s constantly breaking them. Either from failed experiments or from getting into fights with schoolyard bullies and kids from his robotics class. (He and Raph both definitely have temper issues, and while Raph works really hard to keep his in check with breathing and physical exercise, Donnie just fully gives in to his, like a short live wire)

All the boys know a good amount of martial arts from Yoshi, though they’re never allowed to use it outside the dojo unless it’s specifically called for, (like a mugging or as self-defense) and are never allowed to use their weapons without Yoshi present. (though, Yoshi goes away a lot to California to shoot his movies, so the boys are left home alone a lot. And when dad’s away, the boys will play. Raph is pretty good about making sure the weapons never leave their home or dojo, but sometimes Leo and Mikey will try to knock down soda cans in the kitchen with throwing stars, and as long as nothing gets broken or too damaged in the process, Raph thinks it's fine)

Leo is extremely sporty, and while all the boys have their own hobbies they like to do (Mikey with his art and theatre classes, Donnie with his robotics and science olympiad teams, and Raph with his boxing club) it’s Leo who shines in the sports clubs. His favorites are Baseball and Basketball. He used to do soccer with Mikey when they were little, but he didn’t like the contact of it so much, and there was really no point to continue playing it after Mikey quit. (Leo is fast and scrappy when he wants to be, but he respects himself and his body was too much to try and play a contact sport like football. Plus, all the guys on the high school teams are jerks anyway, so Leo doesn’t even bother with them.)

Raph has always been a big and strong guy, even when he was a kid, he was always bigger and broader than most of the kids his age, and this trend didn’t stop in middle or high school. He got recruited to be in wrestling and football a LOT, but he has a bad knee due to a car accident when he was young (also the reason behind all the scars on his body) and can’t put too much pressure on it for too long without wrecking it. So he takes up boxing, which he absolutely loves. It’s a good way for him to keep his energy up and get a good workout in without hurting his knee, and it also helps him keep his anger in check. Whenever anything stressful or anxiety-inducing comes around, a few rounds with the training dummies and punching bags in the dojo do well to clear his mind and work out some of those microaggressions.

The boys don’t have a whole lot of actual friends. Sure they have friends in their classes or clubs, but none of them they would consider a best friend, quite like they would consider April a best friend. She’s special. She’s the only one who gets all the perks.

They met April on a playground, like, 5 years ago, when some kids were making fun of Leo’s vitiligo, and she essentially swooped in and defended him and scarred the bullies off. Boom. Instant best friend forever. She’s also the only one that knows that Yoshi is actually Lou Jitsu. (she learned by accident, but she swore to eternal secrecy, so it’s cool)

Leo is allergic to shellfish. (Don’t know why this needed to be stated but it did)

Mikey’s the only one who has ever been suspended from school. (It was just a three-day suspension but still)

Donnie has a bad back from leaning over his computer and desk so much while working, that sometimes he has to wear a back brace and just lie flat on the ground for a few hours to stretch it out (Sometimes he just forgoes these steps and just continues to wok through the pain. Leo and Mikey have to physically threaten to get Raph to sit on him for him to actually try and take care of himself)

Mikey has a scar on his upper back from the same car accident when Raph and he were young. It doesn’t hurt and he forgets it’s there most of the time.

They technically have two places they stay at. When their dad is in town and home from a movie shoot, they live in a penthouse suite in Batter Park City. They all have their own rooms there. But when their dad is away, they choose to live in the apartment above the Lou Jitsu Dojo that’s closer to their school and clubs, in Brooklyn. (That apartment is smaller, but the boys like the comfort it brings and prefer that one. Mikey and Leo share one room, while Raph and Donnie share the other)

When their father is away, they have a nanny that lives right next door, who’ve they affectionately call Piebald, due to her ginger hair and her giant koi fish tank set up in her living room. (Piebald had been their nanny ever since the boys were little kids, and she’s practically like a big sister to them)

#rottmnt #tmnt #rottmnt human #tmnt human #rottmnt human au #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #this will just be known as my human au for now #because i don't know what to call it otherwise #but yeah i love this au so much #and i love the boys dearly #these are the basics #i can't think of any other specific hcs other than these #but if you have more questions about them please ask #i love talking about this au and the boys #<3

314 notes · View notes

harryhandstan · 4 years

Text

kiss in the kitchen

gif credit

We’re gonna ignore the fact that I keep using lyrics as my titles cause I’m not creative enough to come up with my own

This is for @lovinhesmdcn‘s Mean Birthday writing prompt event! My birthday this year was one of the worst days of my life so I chose to create a fantasy where that day never happened. *deep sigh* one day I will stop using my personal experiences so much in my writing but today is not that day.

I feel the need to apologize to those of you that read the sneak peek and came here expecting smut! This is pure fluff sorry :) hope you still enjoy it!

word count: 3k

Harry was still baffled at the fact that you did not care one bit about celebrating your birthday.

"It's your special day, love, wanna celebrate you. With you. Y'don't want a party or anything?"

You shake your head no, strands of hair falling from your messy bun into your face. You brush them away and bring your mug of coffee to your lips, taking a long sip. This had become Harry's daily breakfast topic, trying to convince you to let him do something for your day of birth.

"I told you, Harry. My last birthday was..a traumatic day for me and I just don't want to be reminded of that."

"I know, but," He stuffs another bite of pancake in his mouth before continuing, "This year you have me. I wanna spoil my girl and s'not fair that you're refusing me that chance."

You roll your eyes, "You spoil me everyday."

"Do not."

"Do too. Who made breakfast and refused to let me help?"

"That's not spoiling. S'just because I didn't want you to burn the pancakes again."

"That was ONE time, and it's only because YOU distracted me."

"Just wanted a good morning kiss, ya the one that got all greedy and wanted more." He waves his fork in your direction, emphasizing his point, "Filthy little tease, you are."

"Maybe I am, but you have to admit you started it that day."

You stand to take the now empty plates to the sink. Before you have a chance to stack them, Harry is pulling you into his lap. A sticky, syrup flavored kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth. His hands moving around to interlock behind your back to keep you secure.

"If you truly don't want to do anything for your birthday, we won't. It's your day, you decide how we spend it, alright? Shame to pass up the opportunity for cake though."

You sigh, admitting defeat, "We can have cake, if that will make you happy."

"Yeah?" His eyes light up at the idea, "A party with presents too?"

"No party. Just want to spend the day with you. Maybe dinner or something, just the two of us. You may buy me one present, if you wish."

"One present, huh?"

"I mean it, Harry. No party. NO surprise guests. One present. Promise me." You hold one pinky out, waiting.

He looks at your finger, level now with his face, eyes narrowed at it before bringing a hand to loop his pinky around yours, "Deal. Any other rules?"

You shake your head no, placing your hand flat to his chest to push yourself off his lap.

He catches you quickly, a strong arm thrown around your waist, ignoring your laughter as you plop back down on his thighs.

"Y'not going anywhere yet. We have cake flavors to discuss."

When the day arrives, the two of you spend most of the morning in bed before he forces you to get up for a late lunch.

A small square package, messily wrapped in colorful paper lay on the kitchen table in front of you,

"This does NOT count as your present. I just saw it at the store and couldn't resist.”

He's giggly the whole time you rip the paper away, you protesting about him already breaking your rules.

"S'not a real one, of course. Knew you'd throw a fit if I did that."

With the paper finally gone, you pull the top off the box only to gasp at what's nestled there in tissue paper.

A crown. A more grown up version of the plastic, fake-jeweled ones you wore religiously as a child. This one sparkles silver against pastel pink paper, the afternoon light reflecting the glitter and casting a glow across your face. When you don't move to take it from its wrapping, Harry moves forward, removing it from the box to nestle it on top of your head.

He pulls back, eyes sweeping over your face, hovering there for a moment before placing a kiss to the top of your head.

"How's it look?" He's looking at you the way you look at a sunset, like he's never seen anything more gorgeous.

"Perfect."

"Thank you, H. You're spoiling me again."

"S'your birthday, princess, will you stop being so stubborn and just enjoy it?"

"Where're we going for dinner?"

You stand in front of your closet, post-shower, in nothing but a loose sleep shirt and underwear. Your hair rests atop your head in rollers. Your only instructions so far from Harry were to get ready and dress nice.

"Who says m'taking you to dinner?" His voice is muffled through the slightly open bathroom door.

"Oh..I just thought.."

He emerges from behind the door, towel tied loosely around his waist, coming to stand next to you in front of his own side of the closet you share. His hand snakes around to rest on your hip before pulling you close to press a kiss to your temple.

"M'just kidding, lovie. Just want to surprise you though..can you let me do that?"

His hand resting on your mostly bare hip has you pulling your bottom lip into your mouth and casting a smirk his way.

"None of that," He quickly pulls his hand away, landing a playful swat to your thigh before smiling down at the mark he knows will temporarily form on your skin, "We have reservations, plenty of time for all that after dinner."

"Well will you at least tell me how nice you mean by dress nice? How am I supposed to decide what to wear? You know I have a hard enough time choosing when I do know where we're going."

"Then let me choose for you." He leads you to the bed, pushing you to sit on the edge, a hand coming to cover your eyes.

You let out a deep sigh, closing your eyes.

"D'ya not trust me?"

"Of course I do. You know I do."

"Alright then. No peekin'."

You hear him shuffle away, then the sound of hangers gliding back and forth across the rod in the closet as he makes his selection.

"Will you be picking shoes as well? Or do I get to decide that?"

"I'll pick them." It's easy to visualize the smile on his lips. He's enjoying this way too much.

You hear the bathroom door open again and you temporarily peek one eye open, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"What about jewelry?"

"Ah, forgot about that. Thank you, babe." He's at your dresser now, you hear the top of your jewelry box being removed and the clink of things being removed and replaced as he carefully coordinates what will go best together.

"Can I open my eyes yet?"

"Patience, angel. Almost done."

His feet are too quiet as he returns to you, and you jump when a finger boops your nose. He chuckles before bending down to whisper in your ear, "Be ready in 20" landing another playful swat at your hip.

He's placed everything in the bathroom, hanging the dress on the back of the door, shoes and accessories on the counter.

Of course he would choose that dress. He's told you frequently how much he loves it on you, the soft, flowy fabric hugging your body and accentuating your features in the most flattering ways. Lucky for him it was one of your favorites too. You laugh when you see the shoes, a pair of low set heels. He knows you too well, knows you will most likely want a glass of wine (or two) with dinner and how dangerous your higher heels are, even when you're sober.

20 minutes isn't as much time as you would have liked, but you put yourself together as best you can with the time you are given. Thankfully your hair set easily in soft waves because of the rollers, saving you that extra time to make sure your make-up looks as decent as possible.

Harry waits for you, perched on the edge of the bed in the same spot he made you sit earlier while he selected your outfit. His head is down and when you appear in front of him he looks up, letting out a low whistle at the sight of you.

"You look like a dream, love, an absolute dream." His hands come to rest on your hips, eyes sweeping over your body, basking in the glow of your beauty.

You run your hands through his hair, trying to ignore his hand traveling further down to dip under the hem of your dress. When his fingers graze the inside of your thigh, you tug lightly at the ends of his curls, just enough to pull his attention back up to your face.

"Thought you said we didn't have time for all that..reservations, remember?"

"Damn the reservations. They can hold the table for a bit.."

"Last time you said that, we didn't even make it to dinner, H. I love you, I love your hands..and your mouth," You run your thumb over his bottom lip, which earns you a cheeky grin, "But right now the birthday girl is very hungry and she was promised dinner."

He groans when you pull your hands from his hair, tugging on his wrist to pull him up. The new angle has him looking down at you now, and for a second you regret rejecting his offer. An evening spent in bed with him would be just as perfect, if not more, than any dinner he could treat you to. He's grinning, like he knows exactly what you're thinking.

"S'pose she was. Can I at least give the birthday girl a kiss before we go?" His hand is slipping around to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. He knows you'll say yes, and yet he still waits, wants to hear you say it.

"Hmm..the birthday girl would happily accept a kiss."

The restaurant is far more extravagant than you could have imagined. It has you repeatedly looking down at the dress you felt so confident in 10 minutes before in the comfort of your own home. It's not elegant enough, you're sure nothing in your closet would have been. You wish desperately you had brought a sweater with you, if not to cover up as much as to have the comfort against your skin.

Harry senses your unease and quickly determines the source, taking your hand from across the table, reminding you how perfect you look. You think you detect a bit of nerves flowing from him as well, but you think nothing of it, dismissing it quickly as you projecting your own feelings onto him.

He had promised your present, your real present, would be given to you at dinner. But he carried with him no bag, no messily wrapped package like from the afternoon. Just himself and his too expensive suit, sitting across from you. He's scanning the menu, rambling on about what sounds good and you hum agreements here and there, but you can't help but be curious what else he has planned for the evening.

After the waiter comes to take your order, you take a moment to scold him, "This is too much, Harry. You really shouldn't have."

He just shrugs, brushing your reprimand off, simply saying, "S'a special night, innit?"

The food is amazing, as you knew it would be. You both stay mostly silent through the rest of dinner, just enjoying your meals and each other's company. Occasionally he stares at you affectionately as you sip your wine.

You had talked him down from the idea of a cake, deciding that dessert at whatever restaurant he chose would be the more low-key option. So when the dessert course arrives and there's still no mention of a present, you don't say anything. Truth be told you don't really care if he got you anything, he had followed your requests; no party, just a day with him and a quiet dinner. But it wasn't like him and just as you're about to question him, deciding how best to word it without sounding like a brat, he reaches into his jacket pocket.

Instead of pulling out whatever it was he was so carefully trying to surprise you with, his eyes go wide. He frantically pats all his pockets, even checking underneath the table to make sure it hadn't tumbled out and landed at his feet. He straightens, clearing his throat and you laugh at his flustered expression.

"Lose something there, Harry?"

"No, no..I, um..must've just forgotten it at home. I swear, honey, I'm so sorry. I was so careful to keep it hidden from you this past week. Couldn't wait to give it to you and I just..ruined the whole night now."

"H, I don't care. I mean, I care that you're upset, but I don't care if you forgot the present. I wouldn't have cared if you didn't get me a thing. The day with you, the dinner, nothing could ruin that."

"You're too good to me, too forgiving. I forget and you comfort me, s'not fair." He's smiling though, green eyes glowing in the candlelight between the two of you.

The next night, the two of you get a rare night in to spend together. No staying late at work for you, no extra time in the studio for him. Just takeout and trash tv that Harry always complains about, but secretly loved just as much as you. You were waiting on your Mexican food to be delivered, mixing up a batch of margaritas. You would take a night like this over an exquisite dinner out anytime.

Harry had spent the whole day apologizing, finding little ways to try to make up for what he still claimed was a ruined dinner. You shushed him each time, just wishing he would forgive himself.

Just as you're getting glasses down to pour drinks for the two of you, Harry sneaks up behind you. He takes your hand, twirling you around to face him, catching your waist when you almost fall.

He chuckles, but instantly the energy in the room has changed. It's different from your normal, everyday butterflies you get from his hand resting against your skin. No, this feels much heavier and it terrifies you.

"Found your present." His tone is light enough that some of your anxiety is eased, the smile growing on his face chasing any other doubts away that may have temporarily flooded your thoughts.

Before you can say anything, he's lifting your hand and slipping a ring on your finger.

"Oh Harry, it's stunning!" Your mind doesn't even make the connection at first, you're too mesmerized by the simple beauty of the silver ring sitting snug against your skin. He's still smiling, so big the crinkles around his eyes are shining, dimples prominent on either side of his mouth. He seems to be expecting an answer, but he hasn't asked you a question..

Suddenly it all becomes clear; the fancy dinner, the special night, it wasn't all just for your birthday.

"Harry, is this a..?" You can't even say the word, it gets caught in your throat and you swallow quickly. Before you can try again, he answers.

"S'what I intended it for, yeah." He's still beaming, "You said only one present and I wanted it to be one that counts. I know we haven't really talked much about this but it's been on my mind for a while. I love you so much, you're so good to me, good for me too and I just can't imagine not spending the rest of my days with you. Having children and growing old with you by my side, if that’s what you want. S'pose I should actually say the words though, right?"

He takes a deep breath, bringing your hand to rest on his chest, his hand covering yours before speaking again, "Will you marry me?"

The next breath out of your body is a single, "Yes." You think maybe it was too quiet and he didn't hear you at first, but then his eyes meet yours, searching quickly for any more doubts, "Yeah?"

You nod, tears forming as he lifts you, spins you once around in the kitchen before sitting you on the counter. He fits easily there in the space in front of you, like he was created to be there. To be yours, and you his.

"I have a confession to make." He's looking at you like a child who just got caught doing something they shouldn't have been doing.

"I didn't forget the ring last night." He's looking down, eyes darting up at you to gauge your reaction, scared to death you'll change your mind at any second.

"You had it with you the whole time? All that was an act? Looking for the ring, pretending it wasn't really there?"

"Well, no. I didn't have the ring on me then. The waiter had it. He was waiting on my signal. But yeah the rest of it was an act..had to pretend I’d forgotten it. Did a pretty good job, eh?"

"So when was it supposed to be delivered then?"

"With dessert, but that just," He wrinkles his nose, "Didn't feel right, didn't feel like us. I would much rather tell our children that I proposed to their mother like this than in some fancy restaurant that she didn't look comfortable in."

"I really looked that miserable, huh?" You wrinkle your nose back, trying to picture the image that Harry must've seen of you the night before.

"No, you looked gorgeous, love. I just prefer you like this. Softer and messier and fun and just not a care in the world as you dance around our kitchen making drinks for us."

The tears are spilling over now and he moves closer, hands cupping your cheeks and swiping them away.

"I love you so much, H." You wrap your arms around his neck and he wraps his around your middle, lifting you again. He holds you there for a minute, burying his face in your neck and securing his hands under you so you won't fall.

"I love you more, baby, so much more." He places kisses up your neck and along your jaw, landing the final one on your lips.

Whatever tragic memory your birthday held for you previously, would now forever shine instead with the reminder of his love for you.

#meanbirthdayprompt #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #my writing #this is so cheesy as alwayssss

260 notes · View notes