#and tai? how much of a say has the awake tai had this whole time? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theyapper0 · 4 years ago

Text

Amphibia season 1 rewatch + notes :)

So I just finished rewatching the ENTIRE season 1 of Amphibia and I have some notes on the episodes that stood out to me! There are some quick notes, a couple lengthy analyses and even some headcanons sprinkled in! It's like a written stew of season 1! I'll be doing a written Amphiba stew for season 2 too!!

It's kinda long so you could just skip this or hit the keep reading button and give it a read!

S1: E2 Cane Crazy

Anne shows general disregard over other people's things

(Mimicking Hop Pop and breaking his cane, throwing all the wood carving things that Loggle made, even a coo coo clock that she even said was nice (And for him to say it took 20 years to make right after she broke it))

S1: E2 Flood, Sweat and Tears

Anne would be the WORST during sleepovers and I LOVE IT!!! My girl is just being a tween, staying up late, playing would you rather and keeping everyone else up. I think that's ADORABLE and now I'm thinking about how sleepovers might've been back home with her, Sasha and Marcy…

She also just stays up late in general?? She reads dumb magazines and eats CRUNCHY snacks. She is really just 13,,,

And it looks like Sprig does it too, not as much as Anne (probably because he is younger than her) but it seems like it has to be in his terms. Before, he looked to be annoyed with it when he was trying to sleep. But, if he was awake, like in the beginning or at the end of the episode, he had no problem staying up playing would you rather!!!

S1: E3 Hop Luck

Anne: Old things are dumb!

And

Anne:* violently GRABS Sprig and shoves him against the wall* don't you DARE talk about pineapple in my pizza… Ever…

Anne:

Sprig:

Anne: Okay! Let's go get these ingredients!

HHHH ANNE!!! I love this funky little child SO MUCH!!!

Hop Pop loves these kids so much that he was willing to put aside his old, traditional family recipes in exchange for making pizza with them. My heart is gonna explode I'm-

Anne please don't make your surrogate frog brother get married just to get some pizza dough I'M BEGGING YOU-

S1: E3 Stakeout

Hop Pop: I'm a crisp 68!

Is Hop Pop actually 68 or does he mean more of 68 going on 80 68? Either way he looks great!

Anne has Blam Berry Blitz ("the drink that punches you in the face and doesn't stop") in her bag along with all the OTHER stuff we already saw (air pump, toe nail clipper, pencils, cat toys, bath bombs, etc)

Anne is officially those friends that have EVERYTHING in their bag no matter what.

I really like the relationship between Anne and Hop Pop, how they both in some way yearn for what was but in different ways (Anne wanting to go home and Hop Pop's olden ways when he was a little pollywog) but are still similar in how they try to remember. They try and try and try to keep what little family/friends they have safe and protected. They love the relationships they've formed with other people (And with each other) and would go great lengths to help and protect them!

Also I MAY be looking way too into it buuuut was Boulder-Tron (that rock dude that Polly hallucinated at the end) supposed to foreshadow Frobo??

S1: E4 Taking Charge

Okay quick one, Anne nearly having a whole ass panic attack when her phone dies because she couldn't look at her photos or videos of home actually made me sad. This girl is only a CHILD and her entire home and everything is gone and she for real thought she couldn't ever get it back,,,

Hop Pop: I mean, the part where the island itself is revealed to actually be…!

Sprig: No!

Polly: Don't!

Anne: Spoilers

I dunno why and again, I MIGHT BE LOOKING TOO DEEPLY INTO THIS, but maybe this is foreshadowing something with the land of Amphibia? That maybe there is more to this crazy land than we know? Maybe even a reason it, along with all the other universes even exists???

S1: E5 Breakout Star

AHSBWJOA ONLY EPISODE 5 AND ANNE ALREADY HAS HER PHONE'S LOCK SCREEN OF THE PLANTER FAMILY I'M-

S1: E7 Dating Season

Anne said that ⅔ of ALL soul mates start out as "just friends"

…

I'm looking at you, team Sashannarcy

S1: E7 Anne vs. Wild

Hop Pop's behavior at the end of the episode when Anne finally shows them the calamity box is awfully sus…

He doesn't say anything but "may I?" To inspect the box and then is like "Nope, never seen it" I just feel like he knows something and then adding onto it with the whole burying it to protect his family just sounds like… he definitely knows something, maybe not a lot but there is something he's not telling the others

Also, why would a book that HE has have information on the Calamity box??

(I fully support the Dr. P was a Planter and also possibly the pink frog who was friends with King Andrias theory)

S1: E10 Toad Tax

At this point, Anne said that she has already been in Amphibia for over a month now.

(And damn, Sasha's been in prison for like a month,,, yikes)

Also Hop Pop teaching Anne how to pay taxes is so adorable, she really is part of this family now guys,,,

And I love how Anne was able to win over the Wartwood people by being her natural, charming and not to mention caring self. Anne, like Marcy and Sasha, can be selfish because honestly what kid, especially a 13 year old, isn't.

But what matters is that she always tries to make up for it.

Yes she did join the arguably sketchy toads into getting the taxes from everyone in order to feel somewhat included in ANYTHING, but while she was doing it, she knew it was wrong. Anne knew it was wrong and tried to give back some of the stolen stuff. Hell, even at the end she risked her safety to protect people she felt didn't even LIKE her, like, Anne literally broke her arm from them because that's just how Anne is.

S1: E10 Prison Break

I always forget how like,,, SUPER cunning Sasha is. I mean, she was able to talk FIVE toads into quitting within a WEEK as a PRISONER. Like??

Grime: That's not a bird. It's a heron, a murderous predator that happens to love the taste of flesh

Sasha: Cute

The lines in this show I'M-

So Anne was a varsity tennis player and Sasha was a cheerleader and did Tai Chi. I still can't believe they were both jocks,,,

(Well, Sasha I get but Anne? Sweet ol' lil baby with the lanky limbs Anne???)

Hey um, why the FUCK does Grime have acid spit?

Sasha: *looking at photo of her, Anne, and Marcy* Hold on for a little longer, girls. I'm coming for you. And when I find you, we're gonna get home. But first, I think we're gonna have some fun with this place

Okay so this line right here. Now I may not be even remotely correct but this line, this last piece of dialogue spoken by Sasha right before the episode ends leads me to believe that she… doesn't take this world seriously.

At least not yet.

I think the 3 girls all see Amphibia differently: Anne as more of an obstacle, a wall preventing her from being home, Marcy sees it as an escape from her life with constant stimuli, and Sasha, she sees it as just really another thing to control. Everyone and their mothers know that Sasha can be a little more than controlling and we all know that she liked being lieutenant just a little too much.

This world is interesting to Sasha, not in the interesting that Anne sees it (who is interesting in the new people and the relationships she's formed) or Marcy (who is also interested in the relationships she's formed along with the thirst for knowledge and again, the constant stimuli in an environment where she isn't stifled and allowed to flourish).

No, Sasha sees Amphibia as interesting because it gives her something to control. In a world that is not your own, a world that you will leave eventually, who would actually FOLLOW the rules put in place there? Especially a 13 year old who is basically like a war commander who, even if she does do something wrong or breaks a rule or two, the only person who might even dare to stop her is Grime, and even then, he might just encourage it because it is season 1 and they aren't that close and he doesn't really care for Sasha at this point.

She also is actually very logical. Everything she does in Amphibia, all the morally questionable things she does, it is always for the same reason (or at least at first), to get her and her girls home. Wanting to sacrifice and kill Hop Pop at the end of season 1? Well The toads had promised if she helped, they'll help her find Marcy and bring the 3 of them home. She cares for Anne and Marcy SO MUCH that she is willing to go great lengths to help keep them safe.

But even though Sasha didn't really care about anyone in Amphibia besides Anne and Marcy at first, it doesn't mean she won't ever. We see countless times throughout season 2 of Sasha caring. She feels regret with her impending betrayal on Anne and Marcy, she cares enough to try and warn Anne about King Andrias' evil plans. Hell, even in the season 3 intro we see her and Grime at Wartwood and it looks like they're gonna be starting another rebellion against the king to help all the amphibians in Amphibia.

I just really like watching Sasha's appearance and knowing what will happen in the future with her character.

S1: E13 Trip to the Archives

Anne: I get this place. It's like a library from my world. Zoo books and manga, here I come!

So whenever Anne goes to the library, presumably with Sasha and Marcy, she'd go straight to books on animals and manga probably while Marcy did whatever work they needed (if Anne's dialogue in season 2 with Marcy always doing the work for their group projects was anything to go off on)

I dunno, I think that's kinda cute that Anne liked reading books on animals and probably reading all the manga that Marcy recommended.

Maybe Anne and Sasha would sit right next to each other while Marcy worked and read fun manga together and cackle with each other while Marcy tried SO HARD to concentrate and NOT infodump to them because she's read that specific manga 20 times and HAVE YOU GOTTEN TO THAT ONE PART WHERE THE MAIN CHARACTER GOES-

S1: E15 Wally and Anne

MOSS MAN!!

When Anne wakes up in the middle of the night and goes to grab Wally at town square, her hood is up and it's dark. The only thing we can make out of her face are…

Glowing blue eyes.

Glowing eyes that share an uncanny resemblance to the moss men.

And Anne loves doing elaborate, silly handshakes? That's so CUTE! Too bad none of her friends liked them as much as she did :(

When they finally reached the foggy mountain place, Anne noticed glowing blue butterflies and started to follow them, which led her right to the moss man.

WAIT ANNE ALSO DID ROCK CLIMBING BACK HOME?? FUCKING JOCK!!!

S1 E20 Reunion

Okay I WAS about to say that there wasn't anything to say about this last episode that hasn't already been said before BUT

The last couple moments, when Anne is holding Sasha off the cliff and trying to pull her up with the Planters, there's a couple interesting shots that I would like to talk about.

While the Planters were holding onto Anne, they say things like "Hang on, Anne! We got you no matter what!"

And even when the stone cliff starts to chip and break, none of the frogs back off, they don't loosen their grips, they just keep holding onto Anne.

And they will never let go.

Because they love her. Because in only 3 months, Anne was able to get a surrogate frog family and dozens of other frog friends in Wortwood. Because Anne has this amazing support system both literally and metaphorically. Because Anne is Anne. And Sasha...

Isn't like Anne.

Matt Bradly himself even said that both Sasha and Anne are different from Anne, Anne is the heart, the emotional connection in their logical worlds. Anne can make so many friends so easily and Sasha… Sasha became a war genral, she lost a fight against the one person who she thought would never fight back.

Sasha doesn't have what Anne has. She doesn't have the kind of skills to make such strong relationships, the kind where you risk your life for the other, in such a short amount of time.

Hell, they even play a song called "Lean on Me", Anne has people to lean on and they would lean on her just the same. She found these people, made these friends, formed amazing relationships, in only THREE months.

"Maybe you're better off without me"

And Sasha was only dragging her down.

Sasha loves Anne, she cares for her and would do anything to protect her. That's why she let go. She didn't want to drag Anne down, to hurt her more than she already has.

Sasha would do anything for Anne, even die.

Over all notes:

Season 1 is SUPER FUNNY!! The lines hit and they don't rely on toilet humor to get the audience to laugh. They use great one liners and physical humor that isn't fart or butt jokes. They do an excellent job on showing how crazy the world of Amphibia is through humor like how the animals are always eating each other.

I really like how the characters were crafted so carefully! And the storyline!!! You could notice things that get explored in season 2 and I can't WAIT to see how many bread crumbs were left to lead up to season 3!

HOW DOES ANNE KEEP SO MANY THINGS IN HER BOOK BAG???

That stuff is in her SCHOOL BAG, why would she bring it to school??? So far I've got an air pump, toe nail clippers, pencils, cat toys, bath bombs and an energy drink. WHY??? I wonder if she held on to any of Sasha or Marcy's things too or ever forgot to give them back

Also again, I'M STILL IN SHOCK OF ANNE BEING A JOCK. I don't even know why I am, I knew she played sports and stuff it's just,,, she's so lanky,,,

Her and Sasha are jock buddies and WILL shove other jocks in lockers if they ever pick on their nerd Marcy.

I also am in LOVE with Hop Pop's screams lmao

Be ready for an analysis of season 2!

#amphibia #anne boonchuy #hopadiah plantar #hop pop #sprig planter #polly planter #sasha waybright #Marcy wu #season 1 #analysis #my ramblings

33 notes · View notes

redmaneroster · 4 years ago

Text

Our Home Away From Home, Away From Home

[1] [2] [3] [x-x] [6] [7] [8-9] [10]

PART 4 – Coping

Qrow isn't exactly the intimidating uncle so much as he is the nervous older friend. Sure, he comes in with cheek and swagger, but he hesitates sometimes and watches what he says. Things are uncomfortable for a while.

Jaune and Qrow are sitting alone on the sofa, eyes passed the TV and out the window. Jaune breaks the silence and asks him how he knew. Qrow, surprisingly, explains that he turned into a bird and followed them home. He fully intended to leave when they got into the door but then he overheard the bit about Ruby going missing so he sat by the window and waited for updates.

He fell asleep on the windowsill.

Yang's moaning woke him up.

Both men don't even dare look each other in the eye. They both agree not to bring that up with her for as long as they live.

It's minutes later after they've both taken a swig from their flasks that Qrow asks, "So what are you two?"

"I don't know," he answers; almost apologetic. Almost fearful, but not of Qrow. "We're close and trying to… forget things."

"Yeah, I can see that." Qrow takes another swig. "Tell me, is this about Tai and Rae?"

"More than a little, yeah."

"Those two idiots aren't the least bit careful anymore… I'm sorry she's lumping it onto you. If I'd done better, none of this would have happened."

"I don't mind just listening to her."

"I know. It's the fact that she has to go through it at all… She's still in school. Distractions are dangerous when you're still fresh on the hunt."

Jaune laughs. "She's been doing this for years. If anything, I'm the one that's still green."

"You runts don't get to be proper huntsmen unless you've faced a real, proper threat or graduated. To a licensed huntsman, there's a reason why you're all still in-training. All the glory and shit is the stuff you gotta revel in while you're still in the safety of these halls instead of roughing it in the wilds day after day, facing odds stacked against you."

Qrow is amicable, asking only that he doesn't also seduce Ruby. Jaune's confusion is answer enough. He's no Casanova. He isn't Taiyang. Qrow has it that he believes men like him are unprepared as partners and fathers. Jaune disagrees, saying that his own father was like Tai. To him, any man can work their way into being a proper partner.

They talk about it for long enough that Yang stumbles back into the apartment. She hopes Qrow hasn't spilled any embarrassing stories about her.

They're deftly quiet at that.

-0-

Yang doesn't stay long (it isn't like she spends every weekend with him after all), but she lingers at the door. She hears their muffled voices through the gaps but she doesn't strain her ears to decipher them. She isn't here to eavesdrop.

She hears them laugh. Briefly, she wonders if even Qrow knows Jaune more than she does.

Breathing evenly, she calms the fiery doubts and walks off.

-0-

"What are your intentions?" Qrow asks an hour later, once he's sure Yang is long gone because of course he knows when she's there.

"We didn't sleep together."

Qrow winces at the thought of them. Then it's so deeply uncomfortable that his whole body shudders. "Ah, god, fuck! Damn it, kid, I don't want to think about you two naked! How would you feel if I shared my stories with you!"

Jaune, similarly, melts down at the thought.

Yang actually comes back because she forgot Ember Celica. She hears them freaking out through the door and pivots into the other direction. Blake asks about her bracelets. Yang says it isn't important right now.

-0-

Jaune and Qrow sip their flasks at the same time. They joke about it.

When it's quieter, Qrow can see in his eyes that he wants to ask something so he encourages him to.

Jaune, with an uneasy breath, asks what Qrow is always drinking to forget.

Turns out, he doesn't drink to forget. Drinking is when he does the most thinking, actually.

Drinking is a hobby. Less a recreational drug and more a medicinal one. "Confused? Let me explain…" He doesn't recommend it but he's built up such a tolerance for it before he even went to be Beacon as a kid that it's all basically like water to him. Alcohol isn't his coping mechanism, but he confesses that he does technically have one if it can be called that.

He lost an old friend a long time ago and he isn't sure if his semblance is to blame. The thought has haunted him since. Grief mixed so deeply with poisoned guilt has made him obsessed with loneliness.

He enjoys the quiet nights sitting alone at home, eying the moon, dreaming of what ifs. He enjoys sitting in meadows, letting Summer heat hold him like a familiar embrace. He enjoys hunting solo and coming out on top, all in her name. It's proof that, even in death, she's still the best partner he ever had.

Alcohol is normalcy. It's where he thinks the most clearly, acts the most boldly, acts like himself. Being sober unsettles his mind, makes him act irrationally.

Somehow it makes sense. He always did seem the more sober man when he's got a flask in his hand. Even subconsciously, Jaune realizes that he's made that his gospel.

Qrow warns that it certainly isn't the same way with Jaune. (Jaune knows, of course. His tolerance is likely as weak Ruby's might be.) But Qrow confesses to being more worried about what he might do if he drinks too much. He saw all the whiskey in the fridge.

"I'm not going to hurt Yang. I stop myself from going too far."

"I don't mean Yang. She can handle herself around you, I'm sure." Qrow shows him a photo on his scroll. "This is what I'm worried about."

Jaune reels. He feels a few things. Mostly anguish, discomfort. Saphron and Terra are in Vale.

"When was this?"

"This morning. I thought they'd show up today and that I could be your convenient alibi for having an occupied guest room once they dropped in, but it looks they're busy doing whatever it is they're actually supposed to be doing in the city."

"They're going to come by eventually. Even if not today then…"

"I can't stay, kid," Qrow says, cautiously, quietly. "You facing them is just as inevitable as their visit. I'm no good at this stuff but... my advice: Don't run."

-0-

Yang comes back to Jaune sat at the sofa, staring at a movie he isn't watching. Yang turns it off and when the screen buzzes into silence, Jaune finally realizes she's in the room.

He doesn't notice the many bags she brought with her.

When she asks what's going on, he tells her that Terra is in town.

Yang asks if Saphron is with her.

He realizes that he forgot to mention his own sister.

Yang takes his hand and leans into his side. "It's that bad, huh?"

His free hand pulls out the now empty flask. "I might need more than the watered down whiskey."

She sits on his lap and pushes his flask away. "Get drunk on me." Her eyes are half-lidded and pleading, a promise etched into the wetness of her lips and heat rolling off her breath.

He does what she asks.

They press together so closely that he feels another one of inhibitions snap.

That night he decides – without really thinking about why – to steal a kiss while she sleeps. He realizes that the gesture is far too affectionate than it should be but can't bring himself to regret it.

She was awake the whole time.

-0-

PART 5 – Accommodation

Yang fixates on the kiss. Not that it's changed how she feels or how she's going to feel, only that she wonders what's changed for him with her. She finds herself lingering on his silhouette in bed, paying attention to subtleties in his tone, the way he moves around her or if he catches himself saying anything he wants to say but can't.

And all she's found in mapping him out is that he's no different from before.

Blake tells her that it could mean any number of things. Weiss maintains that it has to be burgeoning love. Ruby, much to their surprise, tells them that it was probably a moment of weakness and that he probably still doesn't know what it means.

The girls – Pyrrha included – suggest that Ruby is probably right. But Yang finds herself unwilling to accept it. She isn't one for sitting still. So instead of deferring to their wisdom… she hatches a plan.

It falls apart immediately.

-0-

Lingerie is her first idea, a vibrant red with thin enough material to tear off with ease. Scented candles to fill the spaces, lighting the bed and the nightstands while drowning the rest in dark. A nice ambient drone off the speakers in another room just to fill any silence. And makeup, the kind that layers thick and she feels physically on her face but comes recommended from Coco's article on a magazine.

She calls up Pyrrha to coach her on it, but the girl only blinks at her beyond the digital lense and asks, "Do you want him to sleep with you or fall in love?"

At first, Yang is confused until she takes a good hard look at herself in the mirror and… doesn't recognize who's looking back at her.

"I don't know," she says honestly. She smiles placatively and hangs up. Pyrrha knows she'll figure it out, but Yang has to first get rid of the mess she's made in his bedroom. Everything else will follow after.

She tosses the heels in the bin (they were cheap anyway), rips off her stockings, and covers up the rest in a bath robe. She tries to wash off the makeup but it smears and will take longer than she has time for. She tries too frantically to get the candles out and accidentally sets fire to one of his chairs – she ends up violently launching it into the tiled shower wall and leaves the shower running.

Finally was the music wafting in from the living room, playing off her scroll. She's already halfway into the living room when the front door opens. She freezes in place just as Jaune is letting in his guests, Saphron and Terra.

Yang doesn't know Saphron, not really, but there's a mutual trust between them when the older girl runs over to her, takes her by the wrist, and drags her back into Jaune's room.

Minutes later, Saphron is dabbing some solution on her cheeks. The makeup comes off in clumps – some semblance of relief comes with them.

"I'm Yang," she says suddenly.

Saphron's bemused smile banishes any tension she has left. Yang already embarrassed herself and not much could make it worse at this point when your first impression is half naked in the living room. She'd also spied the lingerie but she'd thankfully neglected to mention the familiar strap peeking off her shoulder.

"Saphron," she says but says no more. She focuses on the task at hand and Yang quiets with her. Then Saphron starts humming. It's familiar, as if carved out of a chapter in her life that she can hardly remember. Suddenly it's clear that this woman is a mother.

"My brother mention me a lot?" Saphron asks.

"He tries not to but can't help it. You always manage to come up in his stories to curb his nonsense. You'd be a punchline if the stories were supposed to be funny."

"Tends to happen." Saphron winks. "Us older sisters have to butt in all the time."

"He told you about me and Ruby?" She wasn't expecting to come up in conversation.

"No… I can just tell." Another smile. More secretly knowing. And she is briefly afraid that all her secrets have already been laid bare. "He told me you were his roommate."

"Ah." A safe descriptor. She'd been expecting a cover story like being his live-in girlfriend. She'd even prepared the lines and a backstory. It's a small a comfort that doesn't have to go through that.

Saphron pouts for a moment before her eyes turn devilish. "He also mentioned that you two share a bed and make out." Yang blinks at her. Her confusion also confuses Saphron. Isn't that supposed to be embarrassing? "Is… was he wrong?"

"Uh… no. That's exactly it. I guess I just wasn't expecting the truth."

"And you really aren't sleeping together?" Saphron peels the gown off her shoulder and tugs at the bra strap. Yang yelps when it snaps back into place. "With an outfit like this?"

"It was a lapse in judgement." She gestures to herself. "I swear this isn't how I normally am. I don't think I'll ever put on something like this ever again."

"Hm… a honeymoon might change your mind, but let's not dwell on that. You've got scented candles in the corner and I can smell…" – she sniffs the air – "burnt wood from the bathroom? What led to all this?"

"I'm… not sure I should say."

Saphron takes Yang's hands in hers. "You don't have to tell me, but it feels like you're struggling with something all on your own."

"I'm not, actually," she admits sheepishly. "I just didn't take anyone's advice. I don't like the idea of waiting for something to happen when I can already do something about it."

"There is value in patience."

"I don't think waiting is my problem. I think I'm just too proactive to do nothing."

"My brother leave you hanging or something?"

"Kind of? … I've said too much already."

"Or not enough." She smiles in that way again. As if knowing. "But I won't pry. I know that sometimes it's better to wait and come to your own conclusions. Right or wrong, a decision you make yourself stays with you and sometimes that's more valuable than being handed the keys to the castle."

"You really think highly of Jaune, don't you?"

"Hm? What makes you say that?"

"I've never heard someone describe the way to someone's heart as 'keys to a castle'."

Saphron gives her a catty cheek. "Oh, so you are in love with him." But she is surprised again when Yang doesn't blush.

She shrugs instead, looking away. Not out of embarrassment but to eye her own fragmentary reflection on the corner of the vanity's mirror. "I wouldn't know. I've never been in love before."

"But… you're so pretty."

"So is Jaune. So is my sister. And all but one of my roommates have never even kissed anyone before coming to Beacon. It isn't like we don't have time to fall in love, it's just not always our biggest concern. They drill it in you early that staying alive out there should be your priority." She eyes the bra strap on her shoulder in the mirror, hates what it represents, what it almost made her do. She pulls up the sleeve again, hiding it away, and she almost looks like herself. "I think that's why I like being around him. He doesn't pass judgement on whether not my problems are big or small. He just knows they're important to me and lets me be heard."

"Is being a good listener what you look for in a partner?"

"It might." She laughs. "It's hardly an extensive list, though, isn't it?"

Saphron huffs, settling herself comfortably beside her and dusting off her skirt. "Lists are overrated. Not that you shouldn't have standards, but if you want to extensively checklist every potential partner, you'll end up with a growing criteria less and less people will be able to fill. And trust me, I've lived a storied life – been dating people since I was fifteen – and I've found that it's easier to talk to people and let things click. Hell, I wasn't even trying to flirt with Terra when we first met. She was the wingwoman to the girl I was actually trying to get with and we just happened to get along better."

"Sounds like quite the story."

"Why don't I tell you over dinner? It'd be a nice little preamble to me and Terra. I suspect we'll be meeting quite often in the near future."

"I guess I will be tagging along with Jaune if you really want me to."

"If I really want you to? You sound a little meek there," Saphron teases. "Jaune described you as the kind of girl with confidence to rival a peacock. Was my brother wrong or are you just starting to sound like him?"

"Hey, I don't…! Oh shit, you're right."

"Fair tradeoff, I suppose. Jaune's got peacock confidence now and I guess you're to blame."

"Ha! No, I can't take credit for that. Pyrrha – his ex – I'm sure she's your culprit."

"We've met. Jaune brought her over last year before they started dating. Wasn't even going to take her to the dance, the little dunce."

"Oh, but they hooked up that night! After they both showed up stag and he tore up the dance floor in a dress."

"A DRESS!?" Saphron screamed, her eyes lighting up with mischief Yang realizes she's just armed her with.

A knock at the door. "Everything alright in there?" Jaune asks, muffled through the mahogany.

"We're fine!" Yang says.

"Peachy, little brother," Saphron adds with a flare of sarcasm, "but you're going to regret keeping secrets from me."

"Yang!" Jaune screeches, panicked. "What did you tell her?"

Yang laughs, hearty and comfortable with Saphron snickering beside her. It almost feels right, like it's something that always should have been, and she wonders why she was ever so afraid. "What you should have told her! You know you can't keep secrets from big sisters!"

"Oh really? I can promise you that there are secrets Ruby hasn't told you."

Yang shot up from her seat. "What!?"

Saphron sits back. "Aren't you two lively…" she whispers.

"I'm no snitch, Xiao Long!" Jaune shouts, snark clear in his voice.

"You'll fess up one way or another!" Yang, in her excitement, marches to the door.

Saphron bolts out of her place and grabs her arm. "You're still underdressed," she says calmly, belying the panic quickened in her chest.

Yang looks down at herself. She's showing a little cleavage too with the loosened bath robe. She takes an extra step back for good measure and clutches the lapels closed.

"C'mon. You're looking a little too comfortable now. Let's find you something modest." Saphron tugs her towards the closet.

"Backing down already?" Jaune said in what – to him – was a moment of silence.

"I'll get you yet, Vomit Boy!" Yang jeers.

Saphron perks up. "Vomit Boy?"

Jaune groans behind the door. "Yang!"

Yang, despite the grin tugging at her cheeks, silently promises to make it up to him later.

-0-

Jaune stands in the center of his living room, staring at his shut door. Saphron has just dragged Yang into it, and his mind has been reeling with what he'd seen. Barely dressed, slow music off her scroll, and with smeared makeup on? He doesn't want to come to any conclusions, not without talking to her first, but the obvious ones come to mind.

He isn't certain he can reckon with the inevitable outcome.

Behind him, Terra sensibly cuts off Yang's music playing off her scroll. Jaune nearly jumps when he's brought out of his stupor and into her beautiful, suffocating presence. Terra is still as captivating as he remembers, tinted with the gloss of a boyhood crush that refuses to die. At least with Saphron around he could suffuse it, but not alone in the heavy quiet of his apartment.

Terra gives him a bemused smile. Ever sympathetic. She pats the seat cushion beside her and Jaune joins her, plopping on the cushion with a held breath he eases out of himself.

"You seem surprised," Terra says. "And here I thought you'd already seen her in less."

"I did say we've only made out… and snuggled." He can't decide which one is more scandalous. Perhaps neither. Or both, given that they aren't even dating.

"Yeah, despite that being unusual enough to be true, I still had my doubts."

"Have any still?"

"No. You definitely don't look like the kind of couple that's seen each other naked."

Jaune's eyes narrow. "We're not a couple."

"I believe you," she says with a smile. She's so dangerously close to him that he can smell her perfume. A glance shows him that she's eying him expectantly. He's tense, uncertain, and it's clear that she can see that. She pulls away, giving him room to breathe. "Guessing you've still got a crush on me then?"

His spine gets stiffer, spotting her at the corner of his eye because he refuses to look directly at her. She's smiling still. Being cheeky. "Terra…" he groans.

She scooches a little closer again (taking a chance that his nerves might not erupt), and lets his heat wash over her and lets him feel hers. The affection is platonic, he knows that. He and his sisters huddle together for comfort often, and Terra has just learned to follow suit. But he can't help but revel in it, letting it sink into his pores till it leaves a familiar tingle.

A small part of him hates it but mostly hates himself for indulging.

"If I asked you why, would you tell me?" Her tone is quiet, almost a whisper. She's trying to ease him.

"Because you cared about me."

She chuckles because it's naïve and honest and oh so very like him that it's almost nostalgic. "Was that really all?"

"When you're young and naïve, that's all it takes."

"I didn't know you were lonely."

It was his turn to chuckle. "I wasn't. I was never some lonely little kid who didn't have any friends. I had enough love from my sisters alone to fill my heart a hundred times over."

"Then why?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. Do I need to have been missing something in my life to want to fall in love?"

Her feet shuffles in place. "I guess I haven't seen it that way. After I was old enough to date, I'd not gone a year without someone I wanted to be with or was already with. I always felt like love completed me, like it does now with Saph… Is that not how you feel?"

"I'm… I'm not saying love doesn't make me happy or anything. It's just that I don't feel like I need it to feel whole. I don't think it'd complete me, just that it might be nice to have too. Is that not how you feel?"

She chuckles again, a nervous uncertainty tinting her quiet, teahouse melody. "I don't know. Never been without it, really. At least not for long."

He looks at her – examines her, really – because her cheek is gone, as is her confidence, and it feels like she's revealing her artifice in a vulnerable moment. She's digging gaps into her own thoughts and he can see her pick apart her own internal logic and she seems more and less somehow. Like she's less the perfect cut gem he thought she was and sees the girl underneath it.

He's less tense all of a sudden.

And for a moment he feels like he can come to grips with everything that she is. Who she was to him, who she wasn't, and who she's become. A boyhood crush, flightful fantasy, and… he can't bring himself to think of the last. Fist clenching and unclenching, a slow motion that tries to hide the trembling in his digits.

He swallows and he worries if she can hear it. She doesn't, but she can see something's troubling him.

"How's Adrian?" he asks.

"Oh, he's –"

"A DRESS!?" Saphron screams from beyond the locked bedroom door.

Jaune jolts up from his seat and nearly bumps into Terra who'd stood along with him. She steps aside and he hurries to the door, asking after them. Terra tries not to pay attention (she can barely hear what they say beyond the door anyhow) but then he mentions Yang's sister, Ruby – the girl Terra thought he actually has a crush on – and Yang audibly shouts, "What!?" passed the door at him.

"Aren't you two lively…" Terra whispers.

-0-

Dinner is a largely pleasant affair until the alcohol gets introduced. The hills of drink they stack onto the table to peruse intimidates Jaune and he cautions that he cannot – will not – drink anything that isn't at least on the rocks. He'll shoulder tomorrow's regret but he doesn't want to sleep through the sun burning through the morning and afternoon.

Saphron and Terra share a glance before pulling something out of Terra's bag. Diadem, a vintage Vacuan drink stronger than everything else on the table. They only ask that he a takes a shot. It'll buzz him through the evening.

It's too strong and he nearly hurls.

Yang half remembers all the stories they tell. Saphron regales them with tales of how she met Terra, the proposal, the wedding, and even the honeymoon off the coast of Menagerie. Jaune spouts on about his team and a misadventure with his twin on an old farm and a horse, and Yang, somehow, talks about a food fight twice. It's funnier the second time around.

There's a gap in her memory of whatever story Terra was telling because she fixates on one part and can't focus on anything else. "…she's little Adrian's babysitter," she mentions briefly but doesn't have the faculties to ask about.

When Saph and Terra leave for their hotel, things wind down and Yang's sitting on the sofa in Jaune's hoodie. Yang returns the shirt and shorts she borrowed but she feels like wearing something that's his might help with tonight.

Jaune joins her, easing down slowly as his head rides the waves of a dying Vacuan storm.

"Who's Adrian?" she asks.

He's quiet for a moment, perhaps from the drink. "He's Terra's son."

Yang can see it. Saphron isn't mentioned deliberately. He doesn't just forget this time. "Oh! From a previous marriage?"

He shakes his head. "No, nothing like that," he says, sobering up.

"A previous partner then?"

Jaune says nothing. He's sitting upright. Rigid and awake. There's something there. Maybe Terra had a previous partner he didn't like, but then things click into place. Realization sets in like headlights through the fog, suddenly and violently.

"Oh my god…" she whispers, "…he's yours."

He doesn't answer. Doesn't need to. She grabs onto his arm and pulls him into a hug. She's hit a nail on the head and panic sets in when she thinks she's opened up an old wound. It's precisely the kind of thing they're supposed to help each other forget. Only, Yang doesn't realize that Jaune is so caught off-guard by her sudden burst of affection that he's at first startled and – when she goes in for a kiss and ends up headbutting him instead – he ends up laughing it off.

His mirth is almost strange until it makes complete sense somehow. She's done her job, kept her end of the bargain, and now she's laughing with him too.

When he's calmed down, he lies back on the sofa when she goes to get a drink. She comes back to find him lying across the sofa and she makes the executive decision to just fall on top of him. She crashes into his stomach with a hefty oof from him and she makes no apologies for retaliating.

"Sofa hog," she jeers from her perch on his chest, chin resting on her arms.

"I bought it," he shoots back playfully, eying her down from the arm rest.

"Still pay half the rent. And I never asked you to pay me back when I foot the bill for refurbishing them."

"Wouldn't have needed to if Zwei didn't tear them up."

"It was a joint decision that we took him in for the week. You're as much to blame."

He sighs. "I guess I am."

It isn't actually an issue. They've basically already had this discussion and Yang had insisted on covering for it at the time. They're only stalling. Even Yang isn't quite sure she wants to go on.

She doesn't know how long it takes her to summon the courage to speak again. All she knows is that he's willing to answer, even if it would be easier for both of them to stay ignorant. To let these problems solve themselves and never to bear your heart until it is absolutely necessary.

But she speaks anyway. "I thought it was the wedding that got to you."

And so does he. "No, it… it just happened at the wedding. Saph had to go talk to an old classmate and so she left Terra with me. I was already holding Adrian and with Joan running off somewhere, we were alone. Just me, Terra… and our son. It hit me then. Slowly, like when you stare at yourself in the mirror at the night of a recital. You think, 'This is it. This is where things fall apart… or meet in the middle.' I knew I had to make peace with it before it got worse."

"And your answer was watered-down whiskey the minute you got back home?"

He shrugs. "Qrow gives good advice."

"Hm… maybe. I still think mine is better."

"Oh? And what's that?"

She pushes herself up over him, arms at either side of his head till her silhouette is against the dim glow of the incandescent bulb, warm light pooling through her hair till it looks like it's on fire. "Get drunk on me," she says, her breath tickling his nose and burning his lips.

But he doesn't kiss her. She sees the way his lips quiver, almost wanting to, but he doesn't even try.

She retreats instead, nestling back onto his chest but his cheeks are still burning and she swears hers are too. The room feels like it's boiling.

"When we kiss, do you think of her?"

"Never," he says honestly, and that seems to be the part that stings the most to him. "That's the most dangerous thing about you. You don't taste, feel, or smell like anyone else." He looks at her and only her, and she shrinks away as she gets up and off of him because she feels like a moon in a sea of stars, and as he straightens up and sits parallel to her, his eyes never leave, like a captive witness.

He leans in, and she doesn't know if it's to kiss her or just her sheer pull on him. She ultimately doesn't decide. Their foreheads meet – her eyes are downward but locked to his lips – and she breathes quietly as she asks, "Jaune? Are you in love with me?"

"Yang, are you even sure you are?"

"I… don't know yet."

He pulls away just an inch as something unsettling furrows his brow.

He gets up. "Gimme a minute," he says, and he's gone for just long enough for her to notice that the familiar heat she had pressed against her is missing.

She doesn't know what to expect when he comes back with his hand clutching a small object, but she would have never guessed a ring. It's nestled in a velvety box that he sits on the coffee table and he leaves it open as he sits down and watches it with her like it's some alien thing. He doesn't speak but he gives her a glance and…

It's then that she realizes that she's afraid. The look on her is uncertain – she can feel it, and she feels it freeze on her features.

"Did you pick this out for me?"

He shakes his head. "It was supposed to be Pyrrha's."

She blinks. "Is… is this what scared Pyrrha off?"

"No… it's what scared me off." He leans back against the sofa and she takes that as an invitation to do the same. They're huddled close, shoulder-to-shoulder. "Our breakup was only supposed to be temporary. Some tournament rival tried to pin her to a scandal when they found out she slept with me."

"What? Why would that be a problem?"

He snorts. "I was too young." Out loud, it sounds absurd.

"You were seventeen," she reasons.

"And Pyrrha was eighteen. As far as the law is concerned, Pyrrha slept with a minor."

Yang can feel herself coil up like a loaded spring. "Well, that's fucked! You're barely three months apart!"

"Didn't matter to them. Tabloids would have pinned it on her for the rest of her career. The context doesn't matter to the public."

"Okay…" she says slowly, stifling her frustrations for later. "So, what changed then? Why did you set her up with Sun?"

"Because I went to the wedding and found myself thinking about Terra again. It gave me some unhealthy doubts. I loved Pyrrha, I really did, but it felt wrong when I danced with Terra that night, holding our son in our arms… It felt like I'd betrayed Pyrrha somehow, even in my own mind, by feeling those things. It didn't matter that I didn't actually do anything about it."

"That's not how feelings work though," she says. "You're supposed to have doubts sometimes because people aren't perfect or consistent. Life isn't fiction, Jaune."

"I know that now." He shrugs, resigned in a way. "I found out a little too late though."

"How did you even get Pyrrha to agree to this?"

"She's not very honest about her feelings. Doesn't have the courage to be. When she heard that I'd pushed Sun to ask her out because Nora can't keep a secret, she thought that I might have given up on her. By the time we got the chance to be honest about it, she'd already gotten to know Sun enough to start taking him seriously."

Yang glances back at the ring. Not quite as alien as it was earlier. It just seems strange now, like it's out of place. There's a small comfort in that. "So where does the ring come in?"

"I got it as a sort of celebration when would get back together, but then people started asking about what it meant and… it felt like I'd stumbled onto some finality between us. Like I'd somehow found 'the one' over a year of friendship, a few dates, and showing up to the dance in a dress."

Yang smiles. Not because he seemed silly at the time, but because he's smiling. Because, in spite of his somber reflections, he can't help but feel like what he'd done turned out to be a triumph.

Her arm loops into his and his head leans on hers in response. "Doesn't sound like a bad set up to me," Yang says, shrugging against his arm. "If anything, it sounds like the stars aligned for you two." She speaks honestly. Forgets herself and sees him as Pyrrha's too-perfect other half to a too-perfect couple. If things hadn't turned out the way they did, she might have cheered them on for the rest of their lives. But that isn't how it turned out.

"That's what everyone was saying. It's like we'd ripped ourselves out of a fairytale, only I was a dense, blind princess and she was some stoic, stubborn prince. But it put a lot of pressure on us, living up to that story, and it felt like I wasn't as ready as I should have been. I came to Beacon unprepared for a lot of things. Might have hurt the people depending on me by not being ready. I was lucky my shield arm was always sturdy, but my heart wasn't. I naively worried that my inexperience would hurt us irreversibly." He rolls a hand over his knuckles. Contemplatively, regretfully. "I thought I was leaving her in good hands, but even if that's true, should I still have stayed instead? Did I have any right to decide if we should have stayed together or not?"

Her fingers slide off his arm and weave into his. She's huddling closer now, feet off the ground and knees tucked up to her chest. "I think, when we fall in love, we have to decide for ourselves if we want to keep going. We don't choose for the other in that. We choose for ourselves cause we are who we're supposed to look out for. You have to protect yourself first." Yang clutches tighter, and somehow Jaune can tell that her mother is involved. "That's the beautiful thing about a love that works. We decide for ourselves and it all just happens to fall into place with someone else. It doesn't always magically align – sometimes you don't agree with what they want or how they take it – but real love compromises just as much as it just… clicks." Like her and her dad. And Ruby. And maybe – if things turn out alright – her mom.

He wants to believe her. Even if he and Pyrrha didn't pan out, they still love each other as friends and things ultimately haven't changed between them. They were always bound to work out their issues and it's clear now that they've compromised without needing to sacrifice the friendship they'd fostered together.

He wants to thank her, but her eyes are away and she's chewing her lip. Yang is thinking of something else. Her sigh cuts through the silence and she's too shy to look at him.

"Jaune, why did you kiss me?"

He blinks. "What?"

"Last night. In bed. While I was sleeping."

His eyes widen. He's been caught. "Is it really so unusual?"

"It is when you aren't thinking of Terra or Adrian. When you do it just because you wanted to."

"How… how could you tell?"

She can hear the panic in his voice. Caught and cornered, it makes her a little happy to know he's unable to hide it. But it's the speed of which he accepts his fate that gets her grinning, because it's as if a part of him is tired of hiding it. "Because you weren't trying to forget something. You weren't trying to tease me and I certainly can't flirt back when I'm asleep…" She shoots him a knowing look and he gulps through a feeble foundation of defiance. "It was none of that. You did it hoping I wouldn't notice. You did it because you were hiding something you wanted."

He crumbles under her teasing. "Y-Yang, I… I can't –"

"Shh, it's okay," she says evenly, defusing his tension and giving him a moment to breathe and look into her eyes. "Don't jump to a conclusion you aren't ready to make." Her tone is slow and deliberate, fingers gliding along the skin of his arm like a soothing, gentle caress. "I get it, Jaune. Like me, you're still trying to figure it out."

He pulls away but fixes her with a stern, serious look. She doesn't realize he's holding her hand till he's squeezing it. He's composed, certain, and so deftly drunk on her that Yang remembers Jaune telling her that drowning in drink gives him clarity. "That's just it, Yang. I know I feel something. I've been feeling a lot of things when I'm with you…" His confidence wanes before he admits that, "It's just that I haven't figured out what I'm supposed to do about it."

Yang blinks twice and tries to speak but can't. And suddenly she can't stop the curl of her cheeks when she feels a growing smile coming.

He's almost afraid. "Yang?"

"Sorry. I'm still… you know you just confessed, right?"

"Ha!" he laughs, heart squeezing his chest. Relief in many ways settling into his skin. "Were you expecting me to say 'I love you'?"

"…"

He chuckles. "Oh my god, Yang."

"Is it weird that I'm a little giddy about that total cliché? Say it again."

He thinks it a little much but the words are easy, flowing freely from his lips. "I love you."

"Agh! You're a serious cheat. Why is it so easy for you to say?'

"Cause I already made peace with it. You stood there in a white dress and I could see you tearing Terra out of that place in my mind and putting yourself there in her stead. I already knew. You've been nothing but a tidal wave to my emotions, just swallowing everything up and leaving little traces of yourself everywhere."

He settles back into the cushions, sinking comfortably into it. "I used to sit on this couch and scream curses at the moon through the window," he says. "Nowadays my eyes are glued to the screen watching a movie with you. I used to be careful about what I threw into the sink because I was afraid I'd have to call in a mechanic to fix the shredder again, and now I don't even give it a second thought."

"And you used to lie in bed thinking about her…" Yang teases.

"Actually, no. I was at peace when I went to bed. Pyrrha trained me to shut down once I got under the sheets. Nowadays it feels like the sandman keeps missing my eyes with the way you move me around in bed."

"I don't think your tongue's been doing much complaining."

"Seems you were willing to use more than just your tongue earlier," he says, teasing her. She shrinks a little, embarrassed. "What were you doing anyway?"

"I was, uh, trying to seduce you."

"Oh… What changed?"

She groans. "I guess my wires got crossed. I thought that if I got you to sleep with me, this" – she gestures between them – "would suddenly clear up. But I'm not that kind of girl. I don't put on lingerie all the time expecting you to see it. Not even sure I'm the kind of girl who wants her clothes ripped off when I get you riled up."

"Yeah, your outfits look expensive. Custom fit and embroidered."

"I wouldn't hit you if you tried, FYI. I'd maybe cry or get upset."

"I'll try not to ravage you through your clothes if that ever happens."

"If? Still don't think we're gonna end up doing the dirty tango after all we've been through? Seems inevitable at this point."

"I think we'll either do it when it makes sense or decide we aren't meant for each other."

"I don't know. I'm pretty snug right where I am." She gives him cheek, brimming with certainty. Confidence. "Still," she says more seriously, "are you really so ready to give up what we have? I don't see it happening, but it looks like you think we're just as likely to stay together as splitting up."

He looks away. Yang is surprised to find him embarrassed, not concerned.

"You don't actually feel that way," Yang says gleefully. "You're as sure as I am."

"I'm not ready to take that risk just yet," he confesses.

She moves to straddle him and loops her arms around his neck. "I can wait."

His hands grip her waist through the thickness of the hoodie. "I can't ask you to do that."

"I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. I told you that love was about deciding for yourself and settling into compromises if our choices don't align. I'm choosing to stay. And – I hope – we agree to compromise."

He takes a moment to look away before locking eyes with her. He leans in and pecks her lips so briefly that she doesn't get the chance to kiss back.

"Wh-what?"

"It's how I'm supposed to say yes, aren't I?"

She laughs and so does he. Yang was expecting to cap off the night with a kiss, pressing bodily into the sheets as their hands roam their bodies, but none of that happens. They clean the dinner the table, take separate baths, and settle into bed together.

She does kiss him on the neck for good measure but he realizes that he can still feel the kiss and it isn't because there's a tingle there. Cracking an eye open, he notices the gloss on her lips. "Are you wearing lipstick?"

"The light kind," she says. "Told myself I'd leave a mark on you during my little lapse earlier. I've decided not to give you a hickey. Consider it an act of mercy."

He shuts his eyes and tries to ignore it but can't. He's painfully aware of it and he just knows he's gonna smudge that on something. It'd be funny if it's Yang's face but he'd hate to get it on his sheets. He sits up. "Yeah, nope. I'm washing this off."

"What? C'mon!" She grabs onto him, anchoring him back into bed.

"Nope. Not doing it," he says defiantly.

"Have it your way, Arc. Hickey it is!"

"Wait, Yang! Yang!"

-0-

Jaune is reminded everyday that he showed up to brunch that following morning with a hickey his scarf couldn't hide. Yang makes it up to him by buying dessert.

The get-togethers go on and Yang is less and less embarrassed about openly teasing Jaune and showing her affections publicly. Jaune retaliates, of course, and they even get hot and bothered in the hallway of a movie theater. They spend the rest of the movie in a stall. Terra finds them and is honestly just surprised they haven't taken each other's clothes off… ever.

Jaune and Yang don't tell them that neither of them and ready to go that far yet. Jaune takes the brunt of the blame and says that if he doesn't hold back, they'll end up doing something stupid. Saphron slips Jaune a condom and he regrets everything for the rest of the night.

Two weeks pass with much the same. Sometimes they introduce Saphron and Terra to some of their other friends, and they even manage a weekend together in a cottage near the coast. They're excited about reuniting with Pyrrha and they even meet Sun on her scroll.

Yang finds out that Saphron is every bit a mother as she is a big sister, and Jaune reminds her that she is practically no different herself.

Jaune learns that Qrow and Terra are old classmates and that they had more in common than they thought.

And after Joan is caught scheming with Nora and getting her and Ren back together, after Blake engorges the shrimp platter on a Schnee-sponsored dinner, after Weiss tames a friendly rivalry between Winter and Saphron about who has the cuter sibling, after Ruby gets her cheeks pinched till they go red cause she lost a bet and showed up in an adorable beowulf costume, and after Penny freaks out and her head pops off at dinner (her severed head still tries to chew on a salad)… their two weeks together are up and they're standing at the train station, ready to see them off.

It's been raining for the last few days and everything is damp and cold. Even the air is still thick with the smell of misty rain water and the sky hasn't seen the sun even peek through the cloud cover. It's almost a somber way to say goodbye.

Saphron is introducing Yang to her babysitter and little Adrian over a video call. Jaune stands aside, unwilling to let the last few weeks burn away at the sight of his biological son gurgling through the screen.

Terra nudges into his side. "Can we talk?"

He nods and she pulls them away beside a pillar. Saphron notices and winks at her wife.

"Is there something wrong?" Jaune asks.

"Nothing, actually. I might even say our impromptu vacation here might as well have been perfect."

"Impromptu?"

"I guess it never came up but… we were only supposed to be here for a few days."

"Why did you stick around then? Wouldn't that have been imposing on your babysitter?"

"Oh, Taffy was plenty happy to be at the house with Adrian. She's an orphan and she takes every excuse to come over." She leans in to whisper. "We might even adopt her once I get a raise at the office so look forward to a niece! And, really, is it such a surprise that we enjoy spending time with you and your friends?"

"After the bonfire? I guess not."

"Good. Now that isn't why I needed to talk."

"Oh…" He glances at Yang a few feet away. He can barely hear her and Saphron through the rancor of the station.

"I know you've been holding back."

"Did Yang tell you that?"

"Call it a big sister's intuition."

"You're an only child."

"Not anymore, I'm not. Now I've got six little sisters and a not-so-little brother." She pats his chest then busies her hands with straightening his collar. "A little brother who is too afraid to take a chance and would much rather play it safe than play at all."

"Terra…"

"I know you're afraid that you aren't ready. I wasn't either. Hell, sometimes I worry I'll mess up and ruin a perfectly good marriage. These are all normal things to be afraid of, and for some people, these fears don't go away. We just learn to live with them."

She slides her hands to his arms and down to fingers till she's holding them softly and looking up at him. There's a quiet concern in her sad little smile that he isn't sure how to respond to.

"I think you've driven yourself to be so careful with your feelings that you've forgotten to just take things as they come," she says. "I know you have to be careful with your heart but the thing isn't made of glass. Even if it hurts, even if it hurts easily, the fact that you're still in one piece should be more than enough proof that you aren't as fragile as you think you are. Maybe take a risk. Maybe love will hurt, but so few of us get better at it without giving it a shot first. Like a lot of things, Jaune, it takes a lot of trial and error."

"I've been down this road before already…"

She squeezes his hands. "And you'll go down it again and again. Sometimes people find love once and that's all it takes. But for the rest of us? For most of us? We gotta keep trying."

With a kiss on the cheek and a whispered 'good luck', Saphron and Terra disappear into accelerating train until even it vanishes into the horizon.

Jaune stares into the middle distance and Yang, much like Terra, nudges into his side. "What did you talk about?" she asks.

He shrugs. "Stuff."

"Oh, well that's lame. Should've had more to say to someone you really care about." It's clear she doesn't buy it.

He knows she doesn't. "Yeah, real shame I wasn't more profound and emotional."

She rolls her eyes because she'll let it be and won't pry for his sake. "C'mon, it's getting chilly out here and it might rain again with the wind picking up." She makes to walk off.

"Hey, Yang?"

She stops. "Yeah?"

For a moment he doesn't speak, his eyes are uncertain and elsewhere but then his fists clench as if he's just convinced himself to do something. "Wanna get dinner?" he asks, reaching out to take her by the hand. "We can put on something nice and there's a real fancy place with the best lobster in town."

Yang isn't sure how to take it. She doesn't resist when his thumb brushes over her knuckles, but she summons a bit of bravery herself, stepping closer and resting a fist against her beating chest. "Is… this a date?"

She yelps when he pulls her in. He kisses her, drowns her tongue and melts their bodies together till she's flush against him and tugging at his hair. There's still fear in his eyes when they pull away, but there's a determination in there she's happy to see. "Is that answer enough?"

She giggles through the haze of her burning cheeks. "Plenty."

Then she's on him this time and tilting him backwards with her lips alone until he's just as hazy. Still, he doesn't expect it when she clambers onto his back and slips into a piggyback ride before she starts laughing uncontrollably.

"Hiya, noble steed! To the bike!" she cheers from her perch atop his head.

He's laughing too, even if he's huffing a little from the jog to Bumblebee. "What's gotten into you?"

"I can't help it…" she whispers into his hair, excitement mixing into a bubbling cocktail with a giddiness she can't stop. "I'm happy."

#Jaune Arc #yang xiao long #jaune x yang #yang x jaune #rwby dragonslayer

50 notes · View notes

jobean12-blog · 5 years ago

Note

Reader, nat and Wanda dishing about their sex lives trying to top each other’s experiences (reader obvi wins cuz beefy Bucky, no other reason needed) and Bucky hears her gushing about how great he is to her and he’s walking around a lil extra cocky and reader is so embarrassed he heard. Maybe he does the same thing but with the guys after.

Girl Talk

Pairing: Bucky (beefy) x reader

Word Count: 1,572

Summary: After a really fun night with the girls, dishing about the boys, you go home to Bucky...who may or may not have heard you gals.

Author’s Note: This was fun to write, especially the girls gossiping about the boys and I took it in a little different direction at the end because I couldn’t help it and it worked for another request I got. I hope you enjoy it and thank you for reading :)

Warnings: fluff, girls night fun, SMUT, light choking, metal arm kink, oral, vaginal sex...the whole nine yards. Bucky (he should always come with a warning) (18+ eyes only please ;)

Friday night was almost here. You were very excited that you would be getting some much-needed girl time. Nat and Wanda had set up an evening filled with snacks, drinks and romcoms, the perfect girl’s night.

You mentioned it to Bucky early in the week, “I’m spending Friday night with the girls, we are going to get drunk and watch movies and eat.” “That sounds like fun, doll, are you going to come home to me drunk like last time?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. You merely smile in his direction, giving him a wink and sauntering off.

Friday finally arrives and you can barely contain your excitement, the texts flying back and forth between you and the girls in preparation. Wanda has made all sorts of sweet and salty snacks and Nat got everything you could possibly need to make drinks. You’re in charge of the movie list and it was easy enough with all the online streaming devices.

You decide to have your girl’s night in Nat’s room since Clint is away on a mission and you won’t be interrupted. “First things first, ladies, drinks!” Nat squeals, preparing something potent yet delicious. It goes down easy, too easy. “This is really great, Nat, what’s in it?” you ask as you eye her over your glass.

“All the good stuff, don’t ask questions, just enjoy.” You giggle, downing half the glass easily. You decide to start off by watching ‘Clueless,’ a classic that you have all seen but love so much. Just when they get to the part where Dionne, Cher and Tai are talking about ‘sizes,’ Nat grabs the remote and pauses it in between her laughter.

“Ok, y/n, time to dish. How big is it?” You stare at Nat and Wanda, eyes wide and mouth hung open in shock. “Are you asking me how big Bucky is?” “YES!” they both screech in unison. “I, uh, well…” you stutter, red faced as you try to think of what to say. “Well??” Wanda whispers, “he is a super solider, is everything about him…super?”

You burst into a fit of laughter, holding your stomach as you try to catch your breath, “I can’t believe you two! You’re ridiculous! But if you really need to know…it’s definitely super…in every way.” You let out a sigh at the thought of him and now it’s the girls turn to burst into high pitched laughter. “I KNEW IT!” yells Nat, smacking you in the face with a pillow.

You grab the pillow, holding it over your face before asking, “ok, now it’s your turn, what about Clint and Vis? Spill!” You three continue to share notes between fits of cackles, completely unaware that both Bucky and Vision have been listening on the other side of the door.

“Phasing through the wall would be easier,” Vision states plainly, finding this behavior strange. “No, no, Vis, you can’t let them see you or else it ruins all the fun!” Bucky whispers harshly. “I can remain unseen,” Vision says, a small smile on his lips. “Just be quiet and listen, they are getting to the good part!”

Bucky and Vision heard the whole conversation, the two of them grinning like idiots as they head back down the hallway after you start the movie back up. “I really can’t wait until y/n comes home, I have to tease her about this,” Bucky says, standing a little taller with a haughty smile. “Wanda will know what we did,” Vision states, but Bucky can tell he is happy after hearing her confession.

The rest of your night goes by in a flash, watching one more movie in between drinks and lots of snacking. It’s after 1am by the time you all decide to call it a night, cleaning up quickly and saying your goodbyes. “This was so fun and just what I needed ladies, thank you so much,” you mumble into their hair during your group hug. “Me too,” they both say, squeezing you tighter.

“Enjoy the rest of your night,” Nat says to you and Wanda, giving you her best ‘I know what you’re both going to do tonight’ look. “Thanks Nat,” you say with a giggle. “Don’t you wish Clint was going to be home?” you ask, smirking. “Actually, he text me about half hour ago. He’ll be home by 2!” she says excitedly, grabbing her bag and running out the door. You wave goodbye to Wanda and head down the hall to your room, hoping Bucky is still awake.

There is no light shining from beneath the door, so you open it quietly, tiptoeing in and closing it soundlessly. You go into the small kitchen and grab a large glass of water, heading toward your bedroom to see if Bucky is asleep. You peek in and notice the bed is empty but there is a small piece of paper on Bucky’s pillow. You grab it and read, “Sweetheart, I had to go down to the conference room to debrief with Steve and Clint, they just got back from the mission. I should be back in about thirty minutes, hope you’re still awake…Love you.”

Laying your head on the pillow you take a deep breath, inhaling the smell of Bucky and sighing in happiness. You decide to take a bath before getting in bed. Shedding your clothes, you head to the bathroom, running the water and adding some of your favorite bath bubbles.

The water is so warm and you’re so relaxed that you barely register Bucky returning and entering the bathroom. “There you are beautiful.” You nearly empty the tub when you jump, “holy shit, Buck, way to ruin my relaxing bath,” you half joke, half scold.

He just smiles, his eyes wandering over your naked body that is now more visible below the water, “want some company?” You turn the hot water back on, adding some more bubbles, “definitely.” He takes off his clothes as you watch, the heat of the water suddenly insignificant compared to how hot he makes you feel.

His cock is already half hard as he gets in the tub behind you, pulling you flush against his solid chest. He rubs your shoulders, working his hands down to your breasts as he massages the soft tissue. Your head falls back to his shoulder as he dips his metal hand between your legs.

“So wet for me already, baby, were you thinking about me all night?” he whispers against your ear as he runs a metal finger through your folds. You manage a small ‘mmmhmmm” lost in the pleasure of his hand as he inserts two fingers inside you.

His lips trail over your neck leaving soft and wet kisses wherever he can reach. His flesh hand continues kneading your breast, occasionally rolling the nipple between his fingers, “fuck, baby, I’m so close.” He brings his other hand down, gently rubbing it over your clit as he adds a third finger, his cock now hard and resting against your lower back.

You cum in a rush of curses, body writhing in the water as he draws out your orgasm. “Do you want my cock now baby, I know how much you love it.” Your eyes fly open at the cockiness in his voice, turning your body around to straddle his lap, “is that so, babe?” you ask, eyebrow raised.

He doesn’t answer you, grabbing your hips and rocking you back and forth along his length. You can’t help the moan that falls past your lips, “Bucky,” you warn, leaning down to kiss him. You can feel the smirk on his lips as he pulls you closer, lining himself up before slowly brining you down on his cock.

The water in the tub sloshes over the sides as your ride him, your hands gripping his shoulders tighter with every thrust. Bucky nips at your neck, his metal hand reaching up to lightly wrap around the delicate column. Your hands fly to his wrist, a silent request for him to squeeze harder.

He does as you ask, the added pressure causing your walls to clench around him as you soak his cock, “that’s it baby, cum for me” he praises. He follows you only moments later, his loud grunts echoing through the bathroom.

You lean against his chest, steadying your breathing as the water calms. “Wrap your legs around me,” he says, lifting you up and getting out of the tub. He pulls out and sets you down on the plush rug, grabbing the fluffiest towel and wrapping it around you.

Bucky wraps himself in a towel before picking you up once again and carrying you to bed. He lays you down on your back, discarding his towel and crawling over you, “I think I need a snack, doll. I worked up quite the appetite.”

“There are some snacks left over from tonight, we have popcorn, some chocolate chip cookies…,” you continue thinking as Bucky slowly unwraps your towel, kissing down your stomach. “Oh, and there are the brownies that Wanda made, they are so…ohhhhh,” you cry out at the first swipe of his tongue.

He looks up from between your legs, “those all sound great baby, but I think I found something much more delicious,” he says before his tongue flicks over your clit. Your hands grab his hair, pulling his face closer as you rock your hips into him, thinking aloud, “super soldier indeed.”

@book-dragon-13 @collinsstanharbour @cchellacat @chuuulip @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @itsunclebucky @jewels2876 @jhangelface0523 @loricameback @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @lollypop-lam @ikaris-whore @marvelgirl7 @mushyjellybeans @marvelandotherfandomimagines @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @softpeachbarnes @sebastiansloserclub

#buckt x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky x reader smut #beefy bucky smut #beefy bucky x reader #beefy bucky x reader smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #bucky x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes fluff #beefy bucky fluff #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fanfiction

761 notes · View notes

dreamychick · 4 years ago

Text

Me and Tai have been Discussing Hogwarts again and were talking about classes. Obviously everyone would have their favorites and ones they'd be good at.

Charms would be my best and Favorite subject. It's mostly practical not theoretical. It's the most useful in everyday wizarding life. You learn a huge assortment of stuff from a knitting spell to a bubblehead charm. Like there are all different kinds of charms out there. And I feel like there's no end to what you can do. If something doesnt exist, you could make new charms and Prof. Flitwick would guide you along the way. He seems like one of the nicest teachers and most patient.

Even though I'd be a Muggle born coming into a world of Magic for the first time and I'd be excited for everything I'd probably hate HOM.Cuz like History of magic is taught by a guy who bored his own self to death. So thats probably a class id sleep through even if the subject matter were interesting. Goblin Rebellion sounds interesting as hell until you hear it being taught in a monotone voice and then you're suddenly being shaken awake and have a pool of drool on your face that you have to hastily wipe off bc it's time for the next class.

Divination is a wooly discipline. You have to have a given gift its not really something that can be taught. If you dont have an aptitude for it you cant hone anything. If you do have a gift for clairvoyance I think the class is a good one to take, it's not useless. Just useless to me. I'm not the sort who would have the sight. So prophecies and future and stuff is beyond me. So divination would be a waste of my time that I could spend doing something else.

Arithmancy is magic math who wants that?

Herbology is plants and I kill plants only these ones may try and kill me back. I think I'd find it interesting, I wouldn't be bored but I wouldn't retain it. It's used alot for potions ingredients. And I'd be fuckin useless at Potions.

Potions is cooking/science/math all in one. Anyone who has ever seen me try and do math or science knows I should not be allowed to create something that could potentially poison someone if done incorrectly. Also. Ive only been allowed to cook breakfast foods my whole life bc my sister runs the kitchen and doesn't let me try things so now I'm to lazy and don't want to. I cook rice in the microwave. It would be a miracle if I could scrape a passing grade for Potions at all.

Astronomy may be a good one. Staying up late. Learning the stars and the constellations. The placings. Charting and mapping. That would be helpful for adventuring, could navigate at night, by knowing where the stars are in relation to each other in terms of directions.

I feel like Id get super frustrated with Transfiguration bc id be over thinking it. To worried about the actual molecular structure of what im trying to transfigure. And stressing out cuz im not good at math and science. So i have no idea how to make it work. And when i do make it work its by dumb luck not bc i actually understand how im doing it. And when i TRY to understand it I just end up stressing out more bc i cant.

DADA I'd be good at. It's a practical class with practical application. Yes it requires some research for things like the creatures/beings you go up against, but once you've fought a Boggart you'll know how to fight it again. The situations may change but you'll know the spell. And it's something that requires action not as much sitting down and studying. My brain is broken. I need the classes I can move with.

Care of Magical Creatures I would love. New animals? Yes. Sign me up. I have 8 cats, 2 dogs and a turtle at home. But over my life we've had rabbits, lizards, hamsters, guinea pigs, fish, rats, birds and hermit crabs. I would love the hell out of new animals. My problem would be, like in the HP game now, I'd adopt these animals on the Reserve, take care of them and then it would be time for me to graduate and my ass would be like, "ok everyone into the magic bag, yup, yup once we get home Ill let you out. But come on, in you get." And Id take all of them.

Any muggle classes Id pass on, cuz I'm muggle born so that's a waste of time.

Ancient runes is a book course. Like. All studying and memorization. Boring. I mean. It could be interesting I guess. But in the way that like studying Heiroglyphics is inyeresting. In that I think its interesting in theory. I think the subject matter is fascinating. Id love to learn more. But you put the book in front of me and my brain shuts off. I'm not gonna be able to focus on this man.

.....It has just come to my attention that in order to obtain my desired job of Curse-breaker I have to take

Arithmancy and Ancient runes.

Well. Fuck me sideways.

I guess that makes sense, seeing as Curse breakers work for the banks most of the time but still. Can I be exempt seeing as how I'm a chosen one from Hogwarts? I've been finding Vaults and breaking curses for 6 years w/o this shit. May I be excused?

What do you mean no exceptions? But I have a recommendation from Bill Weasley! Plus! In a few years Harry Potter wont even Take his N.E.W.Ts but that bitch gets to be an Auror. Wtf.

Oooooh so you die ONE TIME for all of wizardom and you get a pass. Bitches.

Fine. Sign me up for both classes then.

I also MUST get an O on Transfigurations and Potions to get into the NEWT classes and an O or an E on Charms and DADA (The Classes Id probably pass with an O np) Luckily I only need to take the Arithmancy Owl no NEWT required. It doesnt say specifically if a NEWT is required for Ancient Runes. Or if Id need an O or E to get there. But lets hope I dont need it and that I can just take both with the OWLs and get an E. The NEWTS are Probably preferred but not necessary. So if I only just pass my OWL no biggie.

Someone better break out the Monsters and chocolate. And be ready to tutor the fuck out of me the week before exams to cram as much info into my head. Bc Im not retaining shit throughout the year.

#hogwarts #hogwarts classes #hogwarts mystery year 6 #hogwarts mystery #jacobs sibling

6 notes · View notes

missmeela · 4 years ago

Text

The Monk (Part One)

Prompt 13: Oneirophrenia - Link to master post

Edlin spent most of that first day thinking. He thought about his past, all those things he had done while he was a thrall of the voidsent. Then in the time before, which all seemed so long ago now. How proud he had been when he started down the path of a priest. The priesthood all seemed so empty now.

Then his thoughts turned to the future. That was harder; he didn't have any of the answers. Tay always seemed so sure of things, like anything was possible for him.

Throughout the day, the innkeeper brought Edlin his meals and fresh water to clean. Edlin wasn't sure if he wanted payment. Perhaps it was all covered in the price of the room. Either way, the innkeeper never asked for any coin.

About a bell after dinner, Edlin was getting worried. What if Tay was in trouble? He sat himself on the bed facing the door, waiting.

Edlin's head nodded, and he woke up with a start. It was early now, and Edlin lay his head down on the pillow. He had barely closed his eyes again when there was a knock on the door.

The innkeeper brought in breakfast without a word, as he had done the previous day. Edlin got up and went over to the plate. Fried bread and some sort of formed meat.

After finishing breakfast, Edlin decided he should make himself useful. He looked over at the array of weapons; they were all still in a very sorry state, so that is where he began.

Mid-morning, brought the innkeeper back into the room. With him, the news that there was an explosion in the city late yesterday. The same place Tay had been working for.

Edlin rallied off a series of questions. Who did it, what about Tay, who was hurt? The innkeeper has none of the answers Edlin was looking for. Only that there was an explosion, and they hadn't found any bodies. The innkeeper left the room, and Edlin almost felt like he was falling.

Should he go there and look? Tay might be looking for the ones responsible. Maybe he was caught in the explosion. Why wouldn't he have come back? What if he was injured, or captured, or dead?

Edlin shook his head and picked up one of the cleaned swords. He thought about heading there now. But, leaving the room left him filled him with a sense of dread. Besides, if Tay couldn't handle someone, what chance would he have?

He decided he should wait. Tay would come back eventually, or at least there would be more news at some point. He set the sword back down and went back to cleaning the other weapons.

The third day rolled around. The innkeeper still brought him meals. Edlin started to think more about gil and whether Tay would return. Still no news came. Edlin pulled the chair around to face the door and just sat waiting.

The fourth day brought nothing new, apart from the regular meals. But those were eaten with barely a glance.

The fifth and sixth days just seemed to pass in a blurry haze. The skies went dark, and then light again, and then dark. Edlin barely slept. It felt like he had just been staring at that door, waiting for it to open, waiting for so long.

Each time the innkeeper came with food, he felt like he wanted to leap up, but his body was too tired to do much of anything now.

By the end of the seventh day, Edlin was nodding his head in a perpetual daze. Sleeping was just short moments where his eyes fell shut then snapped open again.

Then in the darkness of that last night, the door was kicked open. Tay backed into the room, dragging a large sack in with him.

"Damn, lad, that was a right tricky one."

Edlin murmured weakly from his chair. His lack of energy robbed him of the emotion he wanted to put behind his words.

"You came back. There was an explosion."

Tay turned around and nodded to Edlin with a grin.

"Aye, yeah. Well, you know me, I like to fix problems, and I sorted out a whole bunch of them in one go. Boom. But I suppose that does leave us with one real problem, as to what to do now."

Edlin shook his head wearily. All his thoughts were all so confused again.

"What are we going to do?"

Tay looked at the array of weapons arranged neatly against the wall. All clean and wrapped up in cloth.

"Yes, that’s what I said. At least it looks like you've kept yourself busy here. But, did you give any further thought as to what you wanted to do? How does that fishing trip sound? We can go somewhere far away from here."

Edlin nodded slowly.

"We could do that. You'd have to show me how to do it."

Tay waved a hand at him, looking through the weapons and taking the cloth off one of the swords.

"Ah, you'll pick it up no problem. But we can't take all of these with us, we'll have to pack light to travel. You should keep this one. And I suppose I should pick out a few of my favourites. The rest we can sell. I've had some of these a long, long time. Good thing you cleaned them; they'll fetch a better price."

Edlin sat up slowly in the chair. He wasn't in a hurry to pack. It wasn't like he had much beyond the clothes on his back.

"I was worried about you. I thought you were dead. I would have no clue what to do if you were gone."

Tay laughed and settled an axe against his shoulder.

"I’m sure you’d do fine. But it'll take more than that to get rid of me. So do you fancy making a go of fishing? Hells, you don't have to choose right now. We can see how fishing suits you. And if it doesn't suit you, well, there will be plenty of time to think what to do next when we're waiting for a bite."

"We can do that. It does sound nice to get out of this room. Out of this city."

Edlin looked over to the door and gestured vaguely at it.

"I was worried I was going to be paying for the room. The innkeeper hasn't said much to me. I don't even know his name."

Tay looked over to the door and then back to Edlin with a smile.

"Ah, don't worry about him. We go way back; I'm sure he'd do you right."

Tay strode over to Edlin and kneeled down to be at eye level with him.

"I just want you to know that I did it all for you. You were the one that put me back on the right path, doing things that are good rather than just what pays. It's a small price to pay."

Tay placed a hand on Edlin's shoulder and nodded to him.

"I couldn't bear it if, after all of this, something bad happened to you. You deserve to get your new chance at life. I guess the thing that I could never say to you is that I did it for love."

Edlin looked at Tay for a long time. He wanted to say how he felt too, but something stopped him. As he stared, his view of Tay became fainter, like he was vanishing into the room. Then with a choking gasp of air, Edlin was startled back awake.

Morning had set in, and light streamed in through the window. In the room, everything was as it had been the night before. Weapons, all where he left them. He was all alone.

Edlin clambered off his chair and went over to the door. He opened it a crack and peeked into the hall. His steps were rigid, like he was drawn by some unseen force. He needed to go there; he needed to go see where Tay had died.

#FFxivWrite2021 #FFxivWrite

1 note · View note

jjchantill · 4 years ago

Text

Anniversary: Boyd Holbrook

“You make me better than I was before/Thank god I’m yours.”

The sound of the ringtone you assigned to your boyfriend wakes you up from a dead sleep. You blindly reach out for your phone on the bedside table before hitting answer and pressing it to your ear.

“Hello?” you say, with your voice still groggy with sleep.

“Hey, babe. Did I wake you?”

“No, no, I’m awake,” you say, quickly sitting up.

“How’s your day been?” he asks.

“Good, I had my work presentation today.”

“Oh, yeah! How did it go? Did you knock it out of the park like I knew you would?” Boyd asks.

“Yep, my boss says it was one of the best she’s ever heard,” you said.

“That’s great, babe! I knew you could do it!” he says.

“Thanks, how was your day? Did you guys start filming the last scenes yet?” you ask.

“Nope, the writers and director had a couple of changes that they wanted to make so they postponed filming,” he says.

“Did they say how long?” you ask.

“Nope. I’m sorry, babe. I know we planned on me coming home in a couple of days, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“But that means you’ll miss our anniversary,” you say.

“I know, babe and I know we had plans. Believe me, I’m bummed too. All I want to do is come home to you. I promise that I’ll make it up to you as soon as I get back. Please, don’t get upset.”

“I’m not upset, babe. I mean I am, but I get it, you have to be there to film. I know how important this movie is to you and how important it is for you to finish it. So, you do what you have to do and then come home to me. We’ll celebrate when you get back,” you say.

He’s silent for a minute before he sighs.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing, just…how the hell did I get so lucky with you?”

You laugh, “I’m the lucky one.”

“Not possible. I’m the one that has the amazing girlfriend who just told me that she’ll postpone our anniversary plans so I can finish filming my movie because she knows how much it means to me.”

You shrug, “We’ll have plenty of time to celebrate when you get home.”

“We will. I promise you, babe that I’m taking a whole two weeks off. It’ll be just the two of us, no work, no worries, no interviews. Just you and me on a beach somewhere sipping Mai Tais.”

You laugh, “sounds like a plan. I love you, Boyd.”

“I love you too. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

The two of you hang up before you roll over and go back to sleep.

A Few Days Later…

It’s the day of your anniversary, you and Boyd had been dating for two years. You already knew that he wasn’t going to be home for it, but that doesn’t stop you from being a little bummed out about it. Boyd, being the amazing boyfriend that he is knew you would be upset and made sure you woke up to something special. He had breakfast delivered and even sent 730 roses to your door, one for everyday you have been together. As the day wore on though, your mood started to fade. You missed Boyd. Last year, the two of you had spent the entire day together. This year the two of you were miles and miles apart. Or at least that’s what you thought….you were in the living room trying to figure out what you were going to do with over 700 hundred roses when I knock resounded on your door. Pulling it open, you find yourself face to face with Boyd.

“Boyd?”

He immediately pulls you in for a hug before pressing a passionate kiss to your lips.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” he whispers against your lips.

“But…how…what…how are you here? I thought you had to film the last couple of scenes.”

“I did but turns out one of the writers is a hard core romantic. He overheard our phone call last night and told the director to send me home. Made a whole huge deal out of the whole thing, told the guy that if he didn’t send me home to celebrate my anniversary that he would never the ending to his movie.”

“You’re kidding,” you say.

“Nope. The director booked my plane ticket himself, told me not to come back until my anniversary was successfully celebrated.”

“Well, who am I to argue with an award-winning movie director?” you laugh, before pressing another kiss to Boyd’s lips.

“I take it you’re happy I’m home,” he says.

“Ecstatic, now you can help me figure out what I’m supposed to do with all these flowers that you sent.”

Boyd laughs before following you inside, “I guess I may have gone a little overboard.”

“A little? Most girls get a dozen roses or no roses at all.”

“Well, you aren’t most girls,” he says, pulling you back towards him.

“I’m a girl worth 700 roses?”

“Nope, you’re priceless. The roses are just a reminder of how long I’ve loved you.”

You smile before pressing your lips to his. The two of you spend the rest of the day together, celebrating your anniversary.

#imagines #imagine #preferences #preference #boyd holbrook #boyd holbrook imagine #boyd holbrook imagines #boyd holbrook preferences #boyd holbrook preference

19 notes · View notes

maandags · 5 years ago

Text

a tune not quite forgotten (John Shelby x reader)

ITS THE DAY LADS

-- -- --

Summary: You did something stupid--something that took your feelings and threw them in a blender--and now you have to try and sort your life back out.

Word count: 8.6K

Genre: angst/fluff but this time i think i did not do a horrible job balancing out the angst and the fluff

Notes: masterlist - my dudes........ today is the birthday of my lovely lovely LOVELY girl Aticus over @panda-noosh !! man i love you so much!! you mean the absolute world to me; i couldn’t even begin to describe all the ways you’ve helped me through bad days and made me laugh and cry and yell about my godchildren and risk my ass by texting you in class. i had SUCH a hard time not giving you updates on this fic--especially since you were the one that got me into peaky blinders in the first place--and i caught myself multiple times already typing out a message and then going “wait. no” and backspacing everything lololol. I want you to know how much you truly mean to me, and suddenly i can’t use words eloquently anymore. so just read the damn fic and have a fabulous day. xx from your bitch Tay :’)

-- -- --

The last person you'd expected to show up on your doorstep at four in the afternoon was John Shelby, and yet there he was.

You almost shut the door on him, but then realised that would probably be a bad idea, as he was a part of the most powerful family in the whole of Birmingham. So you folded your arms across your chest and raised your brows, waiting for him to explain the cause of his visit.

He looked at you, the cap on his head slightly shadowing his face. "Hullo."

You gave a terse nod, not really trusting yourself to speak. John glanced behind you and coughed. "Can I come in?"

"No."

Maybe you were being unfair, but you were really not in the mood to talk to him. You planned to let him know. "I have stuff to do. What do you want?"

The fact that you were able to get away with talking to John like that was due only to the fact that you had known each other since you were kids–that you'd been friends since you were kids. And now you were angry with him, and you were done with always letting him have his way.

John stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Just wanted to see if you were okay, I guess."

You scoffed, managed to cover it up with a cough. So he had just wanted to see if you were okay. In that case, every second he spent in front of you was a second wasted, and his very presence was aggravating you more than you cared to admit. "I'm fine, thank you very much. I don't need you checking up on me like I'm on my fucking death bed or something."

You pulled the door to your house shut behind you and turned the key. You didn't know where you wanted to go. Maybe you'd stop by Rosetta's, two blocks away. If you were lucky, Rosetta herself would be there and she'd pour you a glass of whiskey and tut when you downed it in one go.

"Y/N–"

You knew what he was going to say. What he was going to bring up. And frankly, you weren't ready for it yet. You didn't want to think about it, didn't want to face the truth of the situation. Because it would hurt even more than it already did, and you didn't need that right now. When you had calmed down a bit, you would go to him yourself and you'd say, It's fine. I understand. It's okay.

When really, of course, it wasn't.

"Not now, John. Please, just–not right now."

And you walked away, ignoring the fact that you hadn't brought a coat with you and the wind was biting at your skin and carding its icy fingers through your hair, and if it was going to rain tonight you were probably going to catch a cold. But it was okay. The freezing air shook you awake when you had been foggy a moment before, and you were glad for it.

You brought your shoulders up to your ears, squinting to protect your eyes from the wind as you made your way to Rosetta's. You weren't surprised–though you were disappointed–when your vision blurred with tears.

Walking into the warmth of Rosetta's cosy pub was like walking into heaven when you opened the door and let yourself in. Behind the bar stood the curvy form of Rosetta herself, and you smiled at her cooing when she spotted you. "Oh, love, do come in. It's been ages since I've seen your pretty face!"

Rosetta called everyone pretty. It was one of the many reasons you loved her. You walked up to the counter and pulled a stool towards you, climbing on it and rubbing your hands together to get some feeling back into them.

"What'll you be havin', sweetie?"

You looked up at her blearily. "Something that'll warm me up."

She raised a perfectly shaped brow. "Little early for that, ain't it?" But one look from you shut her up, and she drew a big long sigh as she poured you a glass.

The first sip brought some warmth into your chest. The second gave you back the feeling in your hands, and then you downed the drink and waited for the alcohol to take full effect and loosen you up.

"You're looking like shit," Rosie remarked subtly, and you glared as you toyed with the rim of the glass. She was right, though; you had barely slept last night and you were fairly sure your hair hadn't seen a brush in two days.

"I'm feeling like shit," you amended finally, plopping your elbows on the counter and resting your chin in your palms, watching Rosie bustle around and serve the few other customers who'd already installed themselves at a table or at the bar. There was a guy a few seats on your right who was stealing not-so-subtle glances at Rosie's cleavage and posterior as she twisted and turned, and you had half a mind to kick him off his chair. It was like watching someone hound after your mother, because Rosie had been more of a parent to you than either of yours had been.

"Poor you," she said, patting your cheek and turning around to serve some other man who was tapping his glass on the shiny wood countertop. You narrowed your eyes, the old protectiveness rising up again in the back of your throat.

It wasn't busy yet, so after Rosie had satisfied her small clientèle she turned back to you, refilled your glass and grabbed a pint of her own. "So. Tell me about what's got you in such a mood."

You swirled the drink around in your glass and said, "Nothing," which was untrue, of course, and Rosie swatted you on the back of your head to show that she wasn't impressed.

"I didn't practically raise you since your tenth birthday for you to lie to me like that," she sniffed, and you groaned.

"It's just–I'm really fucking stupid sometimes. And I do... I do stupid things a lot. And, you know. Then I wake up the next day and realise I've been really, really stupid again. And it makes me feel. Like. Shit." You tapped the counter with the bottom of your glass for emphasis.

Rosie sighed, gave your cheek a tap. "Oh, love. You never were great at sorting out your feelings, eh?"

You felt your neck and ears heat up, and your eyes widened. "I never–I didn't say–"

She threw her head back, brushing her long mane of curls over her shoulder. Her brown hair was streaked with grey, but on her it looked ethereal. No wonder nobody could ever keep their eyes off her. "You didn't say, but I know you, don't I?"

She did. She and her pub had been more of a home to you than your own had been, and you'd practically grown up hanging from her skirts. When you were eleven, she'd let you help out with washing the dishes sometimes, and not long after you'd met John, whom she also immediately took under her wing.

You had a closer bond with Rosie than John did, but she loved him just the same, letting him play with you between the tables. Rosetta's became a second home to you before you'd even left your old one.

She then plunked down her glass, and cocked her head, and gasped, and you jumped, thinking she'd seen a man get murdered through the window–at least. But she was looking at you, and said, "Is it John?" And her eyes were wide, and you scolded yourself internally, because Rosie would not have been fazed in the slightest if she'd seen a man get murdered in front of her pub.

You buried your face in your hands, which was close enough to a confession for her and she let out a "Ha!"

Then she got called away by some prick who wanted a refill, and as she grabbed a bottle he leaned forward and pinched her butt, and she immediately whipped around and loudly cussed him out before telling him to Get the fuck out of here and don't you have the balls to show your fucking face again. You really loved Rosie.

"Love," she said a minute later as if nothing had happened, "I want you to tell me what's happened right now."

You sighed, but you did. You told her about the inauguration of the new and improved Garrison, and how John had invited you–of course he had, you were his best friend–and how, after a couple of glasses and songs and teasing words mumbled from slightly-parted mouths he'd pulled you into a corner and kissed you.

It had been sloppy and heated and kind of a mess, to be honest, your hands wandering, wanting to feel every inch of the other's body and explore after years of built-up tension, and yet it had been the very best few moments of your entire worthless life, leaving you lightheaded and flushed a deep crimson.

Then, of course, he'd pulled away for air, and you'd laughed, chest filling for the first time in years–maybe ever–and he'd mumbled, "Wait here," and squeezed your hand before disappearing into the crowd.

And you had waited. You'd waited for what felt like hours, but he'd never returned.

So you'd left. Your clothes were only slightly dishevelled, after all, and when you were sure you could walk home without collapsing you packed your shit and pushed out of the pub. But that hadn't been the worst of it; of course it hadn't. For when you left, you saw John on the other side of the glass panel. Laughing. A drink in his hand, talking with Tommy and Arthur. He never looked at you once.

"I knew what I was getting into," you told Rosie, your arms now crossed on top of the counter and your shoulders drawn up to your ears. "I mean–John hooks up with seven girls a night. I just–I thought–"

"–that it'd be different? Because it's you?"

You looked at her, wondering how she always managed to gauge exactly how you felt and put it into words as perfectly as she did. She looked at you with her head slightly tilted and pity in her eyes, pity and understanding and compassion which left you even more embarrassed and wanting to sink into the ground.

"Stupid, right?" you said, maybe a little too loudly, and you knocked back what was left of your drink. "So stupid."

Rosie took your glass from your limp fingers and put it in the sink. A smart move, you pondered as you plopped your chin back onto the palms of your hands; you didn't know if you could have stopped yourself from just drinking your sorrows away. "Not stupid. A little... careless, maybe. But you're young and you're supposed to be careless and not give a fuck about anything." She wiped her hands on her apron. "So no, I don't think you're stupid."

You rubbed a hand down your face, squeezing your eyes shut. "Rosie. What do I do?"

She was silent for a moment as she washed your glass and dried it, keeping her eyes on a spot over your shoulder. Her teeth nipped at her bottom lip. "John's a Shelby boy, Y/N," she said. "I don't know in how much he takes after his father when it comes to love–or his brothers. I don't know to what extent he can love, or if he just wants a good fuck before discarding you like an old sock." Though you'd expected them to a certain extent, the words still stung, and you tried to hide your wince. "But I do know you. And I know you love him, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not–" you didn't– "and I figure John loves you in his own way. Was a time when you were best mates."

Yeah.

With that, you found that you had enough of Rosie's wisdom for the day. Really, she hadn't given you much advice to what you should do–she had helped you see some things a little more clearly, and she'd leave you to decide how you wanted to handle things on your own. You loved her for it, though it could be infuriating.

She smiled and went back to her work. Some more men had walked in and were clamoring for her attention, and she sauntered over to them, hips swaying. How she managed to keep the lot of them in check when they were drunk, you had never quite grasped, though you knew she kept a gun strapped to her thigh for when things got a little too rowdy for her taste.

Then you stood up, straightened your shirt and slipped behind the bar. You felt around in a low drawer until you found an apron and tied it on, shrugging when Rosie shot you a questioning look. "I need to get my head on straight. A few nights' work would do me good."

She gave a sort of half-hearted headshake, and you rolled your eyes as you turned to your first customer.

"You're not Rosie," the man said, frowning as he tried to focus onto your face, his eyes hazy, and his breath smelling of alcohol.

You shrugged. You felt like you'd made a good choice; two weeks or so of working alongside Rosie could help you get your head on straight. "You can get served by me or you can get the fuck out of the pub, mate."

It wasn't your first night behind the bar.

Things went smoothly, considering you'd only had to deal with a couple more such comments–usually from already-drunk guys who were here probably for the sole reason to catch a glance at Rosetta herself–and there was only a single fistfight you had to break up. After a few days, people started to get used to you, and you started to notice the curious once-overs you were receiving from younger clientèle and older alike.

You smiled. You winked, you treated the customers to a slightly-more-unbuttoned shirt than was strictly appropriate, you responded to flirty comments with witty quips of your own. And it did help. It did distract you from John and everything that had happened that night, but only while you were behind the bar and you had to keep your head cool at all times. Once you got home, you would get hit by everything again in full force, and you would feel bitter and hurt once more.

So you started to work longer days, coming in at noon and getting home at two, three, four A.M. You barely had any time to do anything bar sleep and eat, when you felt like it. You didn't see any of your friends unless they stopped by Rosetta's by coincidence, and you'd have a brief chat, but then you'd get called away by other customers and they would be gone when you got back.

It didn't bother you. Not really. You had Rosie, and the occasional late-night make-out session with whoever had grabbed your attention that night. It never went much further than that, though–and you didn't want it to.

The first Blinders showed up three weeks after you started working there again.

Isiah Jesus and Finn Shelby waltzed into Rosetta's like they owned the place, and Rosie grabbed their attention immediately as she cooed and pinched their cheeks, and they didn't look away from her for a solid minute before they even noticed there was someone else behind the bar. That someone else being you.

"Y/N! Hey," said Finn, looking only mildly surprised to see you here. Isiah and he took their seats at the bar, leaning their elbows on the shiny surface. Isiah was a little red in the face, and you suspected it was not entirely unrelated to the fact that Rosie had just spent a minute fawning over them in all her curvy glory.

You nodded at Finn and slid him and Isiah glasses with their drinks of choice. It wasn't the first time you'd been behind the bar for them, and though that had been a while ago, the Peaky Blinders weren't very keen on variety when it came to drink. They mostly wanted to get drunk as quick as possible and would ask for the drink that had the highest alcohol content. This time was no different, and if it was, they didn't mention it.

"Haven't seen you around in a right while," said Finn after a swig. He sat back in his seat and stretched, cracking the joints in his arms and neck. "You should pop by one of these days. John's been a real pain in the arse last few weeks."

You stiffened, if only slightly. You told yourself it was only because you had tried your best not to think of him since the night you took up working at Rosetta's again, and that hearing Finn talk about him so casually was just a small slap in the face.

"I'm not his fucking nanny, am I?" you muttered, wiping your hands on your apron and leaning your hips against the bartop. "He'll get over it."

"He's been asking about you, you know," Isiah piped up from behind his own glass, grin forming on his lips.

You glared at him and folded your arms over your chest. "I've been here. At the place I basically grew up in. John and I spent our fucking childhood running around in this very pub, so if he didn't think of looking here for me he must not be that keen on finding me." You yanked out a fresh cloth and turned to the sink to dry any glasses that maybe sat there. There weren't, but you snatched one off a shelf anyway and began to polish it, just to give your hands something to do.

That was that about that. Isiah raised a brow and leaned over, mumbled something for Finn to hear while not being subtle at all about it, and you narrowed your eyes at him, pursing your lips and whirling around to further emphasize your unwillingness to talk about it.

"Ay. Y/N. Y/N."

You sighed, deeply and dramatically, but turned with the most unimpressed look on your face you could possibly manage. "What, dear?"

"Did John tell you about the event at the Garrison next month?"

"I haven't seen John in weeks, Isiah."

"Well, Tommy's throwing this huge party. There's gonna be musicians and shit. Violins and flutes and fucking trumpets and fuck-if-I-know what else."

You waited for the rest, and when it didn't come, you said, "So what?"

"You should come, is what! John's always going on about your piano skills. Real fucking annoying, I'll tell you that; I never took him for a sentimental."

John and sentimental. There's two words that don't belong in the same sentence. You almost laughed. Shaking your head, you said, "I haven't touched my piano in years. I don't even know if I can still play." But you subconsciously flexed your fingers, and started tapping a rhythm on your thigh.

It had been a while since you'd played–but you guessed you could never really unlearn it. You were out of practice, sure, but for the first time in a while you missed it.

The thing was that playing reminded you of John.

You'd tried to shut him out by banning everything that had the slightest connection to him. Playing the piano was one of those things, but you now thought you may have been a little hasty in cutting it out of your life. After all, you had been playing long before you'd even met John.

"I don't think I'll be able to make it," you said half-apologetically.

Finn blew a raspberry. You side-eyed him, figuring this probably wasn't his first drink of the afternoon. "That's such horseshit. Why not?"

You folded your arms. "I'm busy. With work. Here."

"And Rosetta can't give you a single night off?"

You cast a look at Rosie, who hadn't heard the conversation but picked up her name and spun around. "Hm?"

"There's a party at the Garrison next month. Y/N says you won't let them go," said Finn.

You widened your eyes slightly at her, hoping with your entire soul she'd understand the message you were trying to communicate to her through your gaze. She gave a slight frown, but her eyes grew understanding when she saw the look on your face.

"It's busy as all fuck on Saturdays, you know. Just because you've never had work a day in your miserable little life doesn't mean you can just pull other people from theirs," she said sharply, and internally you breathed a little sigh of relief.

Isiah and Finn started protesting–the both of them struggling to find their words, because they had quite a lot of alcohol in their system at that point, and Rosie was glaring at them with an intensity in her eye that would have any other man weak in the knees. You smiled and shook your head, shuffling backwards into the shadows and getting back to work.

Isiah and Finn left after a while, and you sighed in relief as you watched them go. Then Rosie smacked you upside the head and you yelped. "The fuck's that for?"

"For me having to save your ass back there. You can't run from this forever, you shit."

You frowned and rubbed the spot where her palm had connected with your skull. "Sure I can."

Rosie gave a sharp exhale and leaned over to grab a bottle of whiskey. "I mean, of course you can. If you give it little enough thought. I don't know if that's what you want, though."

"Who cares about what I want? Last time I gave into what I wanted, I was ditched in the middle of a party," you hissed. "It's not worth it. It's not worth the trouble."

It wasn't. It absolutely wasn't, and you scrubbed a dirty tumbler with vigor and trembling fingers until it shone like a freshly-polished crystal. "I won't go," you added.

"I know you won't. You don't have to. But maybe go talk to him," she said.

You gave a bitter smile and studied your reflection in the now-clean glass as you dried it. "John's a Shelby boy, Rosie." You plopped the glass on its shelf. "Shelby boys don't do talking."

You woke up at eight A.M. and, yawning, made your way to your kitchen.

Rubbing your eyes and temples, you filled a glass with water and drank it, then you filled it again and drank that too. You had come home at three last night. Five hours of sleep had you feeling woozy and a little unsteady on your feet, and the sleep you did get had been riddled with nightmares and restlessness. Because you knew you weren't going to get any more rest, you figured you might as well stay awake.

You sat at your kitchen table and sipped at your water, looking out of the window and thinking of nothing. Nothing. Not even John plagued your tired mind right now, and as you stretched your eye was drawn to the slightly-ajar door that led to your living room. Through the opening, you only just barely made out a strip of dusty brown wood.

It was your piano, your old piano that you'd learned yourself to play on when you were just a kid and needed the distraction. It started like that–a distraction. The music meant you wouldn't have to listen to the shouting in the kitchen. It became the only reason you would even play at all–to distract yourself, to forget about all the horrible things happening around you and just be.

Never had you felt a particular connection to the thing or the music it made. It was a tool, something you used to escape. It got to the point where you couldn't even look at it without cringing back; where you couldn't even bear to think about the feeling of the keys beneath your fingers until the shouts would start up again and they would start to itch.

You'd told John about this when he finally asked why you had a piano in your house if no one ever played it. He'd frowned and sat down in front of it and pressed down on a key, then two, then three, then plunking keys left and right and grinning like an idiot. He'd looked up at you and you'd rolled your eyes and said, Not like that, you moron, and you'd shoved him off the stool and placed your own fingers upon the keys.

The tune you played was simple but melodic. A little melancholy and sad, perhaps. John had stood and watched and listened and, when you dropped your hands to your lap and looked away because the melody had jarred unpleasant memories–though your parents had been gone for over a year (your father died of pneumonia, and your mother, unable to handle the loss, left Small Heath for a cottage in the hills) and you didn't miss them–he'd clapped. Then he'd said he felt like getting a drink and you'd rolled your eyes and scolded him, calling him all sorts of names, the bad memories buried once more.

You now made your way over to the piano and studied the dust it'd gathered over the years you hadn't touched it. Ran your finger over its surface and swept up a fine layer of dust. Then you lifted the fall board and looked at the keys, still pristine and ivory white despite their age. You pressed a single key.

The note rang out and you winced at how out of tune it was. It made sense, since the last tuning had been somewhere around two or three years ago. You opened up the case and peered down. Maybe you could get it tuned before going to work at twelve. You had some time.

Suddenly wide awake, you freshened up and quickly wolfed down a sandwich, after which you returned to the piano and set your hands on your hips. From somewhere up in the attic you'd unearthed your tuning kit and, after a quick refresher course from the handbook included in it, you went to work.

It was a slow process–even slower since you hadn't done it in years. But after a handful of strings the tuning came easier and you were pleased to note that your hearing was sharp as ever and recognised when the note was right. After about three hours, the piano was completely tuned again and you sat back, admiring your work. Of course, the piano didn't look much different from the outside, save for the fact that you'd dusted it and it now gleamed in the sunlight. You were covered in filth, but the satisfaction settled deep in your chest and you rubbed a spot of grime on your wrist. You were out of time to play–you had to take a shower and get to work–but the very act of cleaning and tuning the old thing had you feeling a bit better. Like you were finally starting to take control of things.

Over the weeks, you'd gotten used to the comments thrown at you over the bar. You told yourself it was the alcohol speaking; not the people themselves, though you knew some assholes who had tried to get into your pants even outside of business hours. You had learned to brush off the words, pay no mind to them and just serve men the drinks they asked for.

Rosie, sometimes, would stare a particularly disruptive guy down until he either relented and made off like a dog with its tail between its legs, or got up, riled up and ready to fight, and would be decked in the jaw by some other poor drunkard before he could make a single move. Rosie had the favour of the people, and she never hesitated to use it to her advantage.

Tonight was different.

You had been tense and jittery all morning–which was probably also due to the amount of coffee you'd drunk to stay awake–and you knew you would not be able to handle much derogatory comments tonight, whether they were directed at you or Rosie. You told her so, wringing your hands and averting your gaze.

Rosie tutted and lifted your chin with her index finger. "Now what's going on with you today, eh?"

You pulled away from her grip. "Nothing. I'm just–I don't know. Not feeling well. I don't trust myself to not commit murder if I have to hear one more remark about my ass–or yours, for that matter."

"So you're gonna leave?"

"No, I was thinking maybe I could switch places with Joe for a night?"

Joe was one of the boys who worked round the back of the pub. He was nice enough, and though he hadn't worked behind the bar yet you could show him around and help him out for the afternoon, until the busy hours started to strike.

"It'll just be for a single night, Rosie," you pleaded when she didn't look convinced. "I'll quickly teach him how to work the bar and he'll be fine."

"All right," she conceded. "One night."

That evening, you spent your time in the back room, stacking crates of bottles and glasses and, for some reason, a single crate of limes. There wasn't much for you to do, but every once in a while Joe would call for you to bring him a fresh bottle of some drink or another, and you would do it before sitting back down again.

It got a little boring after a while, but it was nice to leave the busy pub for once and quietly sit in the back room, leaning against the wall with your eyes closed. It was hard not to doze off, especially since you were already exhausted.

Then there was a bang against the back door, and you started. You got up from your chair and crept towards the door, scanning the room for something to use as a weapon. You guessed you could always smash a bottle over the intruder's head, but then your eyes landed on a metal rod that stood half-hidden in a corner. You gripped it, then flattened yourself against the wall next to the door and waited.

Another bang, louder this time. More impatient. Part of you wanted to yell, "Occupied!" just to see if that would do anything, but you bit your tongue. With a single finger you unhooked the latch keeping the door locked and said, "Come in!"

The door opened and you raised your metal rod and the intruder saw you, then screamed and jumped back. Their scream startled you, and you stiffened, then lowered your rod onto the ground with a clang and scoffed.

It was a kid. A kid, probably not much older than thirteen, and he was staring up at you with big, wide eyes set in a face that was stark white beneath streaks of grime. His eyes darted around the room, and then finally settled on you and he asked in a high-pitched voice, "Where's Joe?"

You folded your arms. You were aware that the rusty metal rod at your side didn't help to make you look any less threatening, but at the moment you didn't care and felt nothing but slightly irritated. "Joe's not here. I am, though. What d'you want?"

The kid looked slightly panicked, now. "Is Joe here?"

You tilted your head. "I'm here. You can say whatever you gotta say to me. Why were you lurking at our back door at ten in the evening, eh? Don't you have a curfew?"

The boy wrung his hands and cast his eyes to the floor. "Can you go get Joe, please?"

Your eyebrow shot up. "Oh, please, is it? What is it you need Joe for? Hey, kid," you hissed, grabbing onto his arm and forcing him to look at you. "I could have you thrown out any second. I'm giving you the chance to tell me what's going on–"

"Y/N, Y/N, it's fine, it's okay, don't hurt him," comes Joe's hurried voice from behind you.

You whip around. "You're supposed to be working!"

"A little hard to do when all I hear's a fucking blood-curdling scream coming from the back room, Y/N."

You scowled. He had you there. "You know this kid?"

Joe nods, tiredly. "He's my brother. What's going on?" That last question was directed at the kid, and you let him go. He scuttled over to Joe and started speaking to him in hushed tones and you went out into the pub, partly to give them some privacy and partly to see how Rosie was doing.

When she saw you, she raised her eyebrows. "You look horrible."

You felt pretty horrible. Not only had you just almost crushed a kid's skull with an improvised metal baseball bat, but you'd been short-tempered and curt with him even after he no longer posed a threat. In fact, you'd been short-tempered all day, and you suspected it was mostly because of your lack of sleep.

In a small voice you asked, "Can I go home?"

She nodded, and you smiled in thanks and told her to say sorry to Joe and his brother from you. She assured you she would, then shooed you out of the pub and demanded you get some rest.

When you got home, you didn't even bother taking off your clothes as you crashed onto your bed and closed your eyes.

The tune your fingers sought out as if on instinct was quite the same as the one you'd played for John, all those years ago. One of the first pieces you'd ever taught yourself. There was never any sheet music in the house except for your grandmother's old books, and you couldn't afford a teacher, so progress was slow–but after a few years you got the hang of it and started to make up your own pieces. This melody was one of them.

You were surprised at how fast you seemed to pick up the songs after not having played them for years. You spent a few hours just tapping away at the keys, and for the first time you felt something as you played.

Not the dread or the bitterness that usually came with the perusing of the keys. Not the anger that would well up and make you punch down harder than intended, and not even the sadness that would take you over every time you were woken up from screams in the night, and you'd know you wouldn't be able to go back to sleep unless you played.

Now you felt something like happiness. Something like contentment as you pressed down on key after key and listened to the notes ring out, untainted by the bitter screams of anger. It was nice. It made you feel light. The last note pinged, hung in the air for a moment after you'd let go of the key. You stayed put on the stool, basking in the feeling for a little longer.

That's how you spent the following weeks. Go to work, go to sleep, wake up, play the piano and go back to work. You started to feel better and better every time you played, because you were getting better with the hours of practice. And you were changing.

You were hearing music everywhere now. In the clip clopping of horses carrying their riders around Small Heath; in the shouting and giggling of children playing in the streets; in the whistling of the wind weaving itself between the buildings; in the bell that rang when you opened the door to Rosetta's pub. And it felt good. It felt good to pick up on melodies you'd never paid attention to before, being able to appreciate the music of life as it bubbled and sizzled all around you.

You hadn't felt this good in a long time.

The only thing that still bothered you–that you just weren't able to get out of your head–was, of course, John Shelby. Because the more you thought about it, the more pissed off you grew.

Sure, he was a Shelby. Sure, Shelbys were basically guaranteed VIP spots in Hell. But you had been his best friend for years. It didn't make sense. And if he had faked it–if everything had been a joke on you, after all–then he should have been able to come talk to you. He would have brushed it off and acted as if nothing had happened.

But he was avoiding you. He was purposefully avoiding you, you were sure of it. You had seen Isiah and Finn a couple more times since they'd invited you to the Garrison concert, you had come across Arthur and Michael twice. You'd even seen Tommy, and had a brief chat with him outside his office. Ada regularly had a drink a Rosetta's, for she was just as fond of the woman as you were. Practically the only Shelby you hadn't heard of in months was John.

The concert was in two days. And though you'd already said you wouldn't go–you'd said you wouldn't go so you wouldn't go–you felt you were itching to attend, if just to see John and be done with this entire situation once and for all. Because you knew he would be there, and he wouldn't expect you to come. Nothing was holding you back from going–except your own stubbornness and mixed feelings.

Because you wanted to get rid of the confusion permanently riddling your mind. You wanted an explanation for the way he'd acted–for the way he was acting–because it was so unlike him and weird.

But you also were reluctant to face him, for the exact same reasons. The doubt was settling in, seeping through the cracks in your composure and burrowing deep into your bones; Did you ever really know him, after all? The thought–the mere idea that the last fifteen years of your life were nothing but a lie, spent with someone who never cared for you at all–made you sick, and had you draw back at the last second.

You were feeling good. Why couldn't you just let this go and feel good?

But you knew that you wouldn't ever be truly free of the thoughts and the doubts if you didn't take this chance to see him. So, really, no matter what you said, the choice of whether or not you'd go was already made.

Everyone was dressed so classy–the men in shiny three-piece suits and ties and shoes polished until they glittered like mirrors, and the women in beautiful shimmering dresses in all sorts of colours, their hair done up and decorated with headdresses matching their skirts. You felt a little underdressed in your plain dark blue outfit. Your shoes you'd borrowed from your friend, and you had done nothing to your hair but brush it. You guessed people would take you for a waiter, charged to log around balancing trays with flutes of champagne in your palm. You wouldn't blame them.

In the middle of the Garrison was a podium. It wasn't that big, but there were still around a dozen chairs arranged in a half-circle formation sat on it–and something that grabbed your attention right of the bat: a glossy black grand piano. In one corner you spotted a small gathering of men and women in black and white, surrounded by instrument cases. You went out on a limb and assumed they were the orchestra supposed to perform later that evening.

You tried not to look like you were searching for someone. You tried not to search for that particular someone, but involuntarily your eyes were drawn to scan the faces meddling in the crowd around you. Some of the people, you recognised. Most, you didn't. Some of them cast you estranged looks, eyes swiftly taking in your rather simple clothes and stiff movement as you waded through the crowd much in the same way a penguin would wade through a herd of walrus; not quite sure if they'll make it through unscathed.

Then you spotted two familiar figures and you gave a little sigh of relief.

When Isiah spotted you, he spread his arms wide–spilling a little champagne over the rim of his glass as he did so–and hooted. You cringed at the sheer volume of his shout, eyes darting around, sure everyone would turn and stare, but apparently this was normal, as only two or three people glanced around and then went back to their own conversations. You folded your arms across your chest and walked up to him, nodding at Finn who, as always, stood next to him.

"So you changed your mind, eh?" said Isiah when you were in non-shouting earshot.

You nodded.

"Was it my irresistible charm that did it?" Finn chimed in, hooking an arm around Isiah's neck.

You shot him a slightly disgusted look. "How are you already drunk? The party hasn't even properly started!"

"Don't mind him," said Isiah, trying to pry Finn's arm off of him. "They're not here for us, you twat," he yelled in Finn's ear. You felt your cheeks colour.

Then Tommy stepped onto the little podium and said loudly, "Ladies and gentlemen..." His speech was not unlike the others you'd heard from him; Thank you so much for coming and I am so glad to be surrounded by such wonderful people and Donate to my company, but he pronounced the words eloquently and raised a round of applause when he finished. You clapped along, out of politeness mostly, when you finally spotted him, half-hidden behind his brother.

You weren't gonna lie: John looked good, and it was more of a shock to see him than you'd originally anticipated. All of your breath left you in one fell swoop, and for a moment nothing existed but you and him–but that lasted only a split second, and his attention was fixated on Tommy. He didn't know you were even here, and your simple, dark clothes enabled you to melt into the shadows. You could not have been more inconspicuous if you tried.

You allowed yourself only a moment of looking at him. Just the time to catch your breath. Just the time to get over the initial shock, the time to regain your footing and make sure your knees wouldn't buckle beneath you.

You drew a breath, focused back on Tommy. He was saying something. He was saying that everyone should please gain their seats and prepare for the performance to begin. You tried to shuffle your way through the crowd to get closer to John, hoping to talk to him before the concert, but the crowd is too thick and everyone was sitting down and if you didn't sit down right this instant he would see you. So you reluctantly dropped into a seat in the back. If you looked straight ahead, over the shoulders of the people sitting in front of you, and tilted your head just like so you could see him, sitting in the front row in between Tommy and Finn.

The small orchestra started to play, and it was dead silent. Everyone was entranced by the melody, the harmonies, the way the instruments perfectly complemented one another; and you swayed with the music, despite yourself. You recognised the piece, although you wouldn't be able to name it, and you quietly hummed along.

Then came the piano solo. You listened, and from your seat you could see the pianist's hands move across the keys, so swiftly, so effortlessly, like he was born to play. You were sitting on the edge of your seat, holding your breath; as if the very act of breathing would spoil the music drifting through the air.

The melody was building up, and the tension in the room rose with the notes and the volume as it slipped into a crescendo; then the music slowed and got quieter, and soon after the violins pitched in, and then the violas and the bass and the brass and the percussion, and the whole orchestra was playing in harmony again.

You sighed quietly, sat back in your seat. There was a prickling feeling on your cheeks, the feeling you got when something wasn't quite right–someone was watching you.

Sure enough, when your eyes searched the audience, John Shelby was looking straight at you.

Your breath caught, and you fought the urge to cast your eyes down. He was looking at you with an indiscernible expression, face void of emotion. Though his jaw was set and his expression was kept carefully neutral, it were the eyes that ruined it. Even from this distance you could see the intensity in his gaze–you didn't know whether it was good intensity or bad intensity but there was a fight in his eyes, all kinds of emotions struggling to take over.

But you couldn't let down your gaze. You couldn't–you had to let him know why you were here. That you weren't going to leave without an explanation. That he owed you that explanation.

And you couldn't go to him. Not yet, anyway; the music wasn't over yet, the performance was still going, the room was so quiet one could have heard a pin drop. So you sat, hands folded in your lap, eyes trained on the musicians while simultaneously being aware of John's gaze on you, and patiently waited for the performance to end. You found you couldn't quite enjoy the music anymore as carelessly as you had before.

And then it was over. It was over and everyone rose, gave a standing ovation. The applause was a kind of music in itself, you supposed; a whipping music, staccato, rapid, matching the speed at which you imagined your heart would beat when standing at the edge of a one hundred foot drop.

John clapped for only a moment, then cast you a last look and drew back into the crowd. You did the same, bowing your head and mumbling apologies as you made your way past the people next to you–you sat in the very last row, but the room was full and sometimes you had to squeeze to fit between the wall and the backside of a well-dressed man or an even better-dressed woman. You frantically sought John out, fearing for a second that you'd lost him; but there he was, at the door, only pushing it open when he saw you following him.

The cold outside air was like a slap in the face compared to the hot and stuffy Garrison. You instantly regretted not taking your coat, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, rubbing your hands up and down your sleeves. John stood a little bit off, his hands in his pockets, that stupid and eternal toothpick between his lips. He looked up when you approached, then looked down again.

It was that–along with the freezing evening air which made it almost impossible to think of anything else but the cold burrowing itself into the very marrow of your bones–that snapped you out of your stupor and cleared your head at once. You were over the initial shock. There was no reason now for you to let your mind wander to places it shouldn't. What you needed was an explanation, perhaps, if you were lucky, an apology. And then you would go home. You would go home.

"Weather's bloody awful, ain't it?" you finally started, because John wasn't making any indication that he would say–well–anything.

He sniffed, rubbed at a spot on the pavement. Nodded. Still said nothing.

And you were starting to grow irritated. Because he was the one that had been so horrified to see you there, though his own brother had invited you to the damn event, and he was the reason why you were there in the first place, and why you were now standing outside and it was starting to fucking rain. "Are you going to say anything?" you blurted. "Because if not, I'll go back inside. To get my coat, I mean, and then I'm going home."

He looked up now, up and into your eyes, and still said nothing.

You ran a hand through your hair, scoffing in disbelief. "Oh my fucking god. Why did you bring me out here if it's just to stare at me with that fucking look in your eye? Am I not worth talking to?"

Anger flashed in his eyes at that. "That's not it. You know it's not."

"Well, apparently I don't–"

"I didn't force you to follow me here!"

"You wanted me to, though!"

"Maybe I just wanted a fucking smoke, Y/N!"

You pursed your lips, clenched your jaw. "Then say it. Fucking tell me you didn't want me to come to you."

Of course, he said nothing. His lip twitched.

You gave a bitter laugh. "Right. Okay. I get it. Johnny Shelby, too proud to admit he's made a mistake." You took a step back. "I cried for you. I cried–I cried over you."

"Y/N–"

It felt horrible. It felt like someone had taken a rusty nail to your heart and carved his initials there, forever to stay and forever to hurt. Tears started to form in your eyes. You blinked them away, angrily, telling yourself it wasn't worth it. He wasn't worth it.

You had cried enough.

"Wait. Y/N. Please."

Please.

You guessed you had a weak heart, after all.

"I'm sorry."

A weak heart and a weak soul, but weak only for him.

"What for?" The anger had evaporated from your voice and your expression, and now you were just... sad. Bitter, a little. Mostly disappointed, in yourself.

"I left. Because... I don't know why. Easier, I guess." He met your eyes. He was speaking the truth, and it was hard for him. Maybe because he wasn't used to speaking the truth, maybe because he wasn't used to speaking the truth about this. "I don't know how–I don't–"

You waited, no longer apprehensive. Hopeful, maybe.

Weak for him.

"Denying it was easier because I didn't think I was meant to feel like this. Because you were my friend–are my friend," he adds quickly, and you choke out a giggle. "But, you know. I thought it would go away, after a while. If I just tried hard enough."

It sounded so much like what you had felt, these past few months. What you were still feeling–what was only just starting to unravel.

"And, well, it didn't work. Obviously. Otherwise I wouldn't be here." His hand came up, and his fingers brushed your jaw. He leaned forward. "And neither would you."

Weak for him.

Your lips touched and immediately you burned.

You burned, and you let yourself burn, winding your arms around his neck, pressing harder against his mouth. You burned, and the cold of the night did not bother you anymore. You burned, and back inside the Garrison the orchestra started playing again–the party had started, for good–and it was like they were playing just for you.

#john shelby #john shelby fic #john shelby x reader #john shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #john shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders x reader #john shelby one shot #john shelby fluff #john shelby angst #peaky blinders angst #peaky blinders fluff

172 notes · View notes

maya-net · 4 years ago

Text

Documentation on a Silver Exorcist, a Small Medium, a Smiling Siren, et al. - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Stars Align: Emma Xing Qixin, Tech Support and Professional Administrator of the Unofficial Zheng Ge’s Fanclub

The rustling of the seven large plastic packages of heavily discounted ramen complements the unforgivably nasty squeak of the styrofoam that protects the equally heavily discounted century eggs that Emma had spent the last of her weekly budget on. Squashed together in a trusty, faded blue shopping bag, they are placed very carefully on the chair. Her backpack is dropped just slightly less carefully onto another chair, and she rolls her shoulders, breathing in the various blends of caffeine and sugar wafting around the SunDollarsTM store that she had desperately scouted for.

Xiqiang glides into the chair opposite, and with an elegant slide of an arm, slips Emma’s other equally faded blue shopping bag on to the seat beside her. Emma doesn’t understand how a human being can be that graceful, and sends a silent apology to her mom for being a failure of a daughter.

“I will order some refreshments,” Xiqiang’s voice washes over the background noise of the other patrons in the café. “What would you like? It will be my treat.”

“Oh no no no, no need! I have -” Emma grunts as she bends over her backpack and pulls down the zipper ornamented with the keychain of a blond cyborg, “a gazillion SundollarsTM gift cards! My college orientation and faculty events have the occasional lucky draws or mini contests, and I’d always get something out of them. It’s great, really. I regift them to my friends for birthdays. Saves me time and money from having to buy actual birthday presents. I keep my money, they get their coffee. But. Um. You didn’t hear that.” With some difficulty, she wrestles out a bright red gift card from the stack that is threatening to burst out of the seams of the pouch sewn into her backpack. “Ah, I’ll save this table. Could you help me order a large caramel frappe? And maybe one of their giant cookies. Any flavour is fine. Please and thank you!”

A pause. “Very well,” Xiqiang graciously replies as she accepts the gift card.

Seven minutes later, Emma is happily slurping down her frappe as a countdown timer to the livestream event pops up on her laptop screen. 47 minutes to go. Her ears are now plugged with a pair of earphones. Opposite her, Xiqiang is steadily typing away on her laptop with unnaturally impeccable posture.

It is at this very moment. That the universe decides to be an utter demon and opens the gates of chaos on what was supposed to have been a peaceful night with Emma Xing and the livestream of her Zheng ge, actor-singer and golden-hearted, multi-talented John Zheng.

Incoming Video Call: Estelle Xing

Emma accepts the call on her phone, and props it up on the table with the camera angled at her. She connects her second pair of earphones (won from a secondary school Poetry-in-Motion Competition with her epic poem Blood is a Vein Work of Art-eries) and stuffs the side with the microphone into her right ear. “Mom.”

“Emma. The house has no WiFi. My phone has not enough data to stream Gege’s event.”

“What. Why? Is it the router again? Did you turn it off for thirty seconds and turn it back on again?”

"Yes. Actually, I called Cellularity and they said that they were having a city-wide network issue.”

“Tch. D*mn company. I keep telling you to switch service providers!” Emma pinches the bridge of her nose. “Wait, where’s Gramma? We all know she's the tech-savvy one, shame on you.”

“... She’s with her tai chi group today.”

“What?! I thought that was next week! And how could she miss Gege’s stream?!”

“... They rescheduled because one of their grandsons is getting married next week...”

“... Just... Go to a café or somewhere with WiFi and stream it there. Do you have leftover SundollarsTM gift cards from my last visit?”

Emma’s mom grimaces. “Yes. See, I actually thought of that. I’m at the nearest one.” The camera angle wobbles, and the queue of chattering teenagers at the cashier behind Emma’s mom blips into view for a hot second.

Emma feels a strange sense of pride well up in her chest. “Mommy! So smart!”

Mommy laughs weakly. “Haha. Ah. Yah. I bought a strawberry shake. And then they told me that SunDollarsTM’s WiFi is actually with Cellularity. All the branches. In the whole city.”

… “Mom. Why is your luck so bad. Also. Why! Are! You! Drinking a strawberry shake! You are diabetic!”

“Almost diabetic! And this is low sugar! And! All my good luck was used up to give birth to you. Emmiee~”

“Don’t Emmie me! Aiyah, hang up hang up, don’t waste your data. I’ll message Danny. He’s with DiGiTellTM, not that bloodsucking Cellularity. You can go leech off his Wifi.”

“Aiyoh, your Danny, how can you do this to him - “

“ByeMomloveyou.” Emma ends the call, and snatches her phone off the table to begin typing at the lightspeed typical of her generation. The baby blue smiley starfish phone charm attached to it smacks her knuckles.

“Um. Pardon me,” Xiqiang coughs politely. Emma’s eyes dart up. “Your earphones weren’t connected properly.”

Oh.

“Oh. Aaaaaaahahahahahahaha! Ha! Sorry about that! I’ll just...” Emma mumbles and screws in the earphone jack infinitesimally. “... tighten... this. I don’t use this pair very much. I forgot it does that. Sorry.”

“It is fine.” Xiqiang blinks at her curiously. “Your mother is in WalaysiaTM?”

Emma’s fingers pause in their assault on her phone’s keyboard, brown eyes wide. “How did you know? Oh. Oh of course.” She slaps her forehead. “Our SundollarsTM WiFi here is obviously fine. We obviously don’t have Cellularity here in CanataTM. And yeah, I kind of revert to my accent when I’m with my family. You can tell?”

Xiqiang nods politely. “I see. Well, I do hope that this works out for you and your mother. You seem to be... close?”

Emma beams. “Thanks!” She returns to her phone.

LuckyStar: Danny.

No reply. She frowns.

LuckyStar: Danny DanyDanny. Dannyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Seen by BetterDanU 7.08PM

Emma’s nostrils flare.

LuckyStar: DANNY YOU DIPSTICK WAKE UP WAKEUP I KNOW UR AWAKE EMERGENCY

LuckyStar: DANIEL NG! U WAKE UP OR ILL POST THAT NEW YEARS VIDEO OF U. U KNOW WHICH ONE

BetterDanU: …

BetterDanU: I actually WAS SLEeping because some ppl actually have to WORK friday nite and want to zzz sat morning.

BetterDanU: Have u not headr of timezones. WHAT DO U WANT

LuckyStar: Liar, i know ur schedule, u were def not sleeping.

LuckyStar: Gege’s livestream is today!

BetterDanU: … I know. U wouldnt shut up abt it. wat do u want

LuckyStar: Cellularity’s wifi is down all city and mom cant stream it

BetterDanU: tell her to go to sundollars

LuckyStar: sundollars is w cellularity! 😡

BetterDanU: … bloodsuckers.

LuckyStar: I KNOW. Anyway, mom is at the sundollars near our house. U know which one. Go pick her up n let her use ur wifi pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaz

BetterDanU: …......… fine.

LuckyStar: tnx ur the best!

BetterDanU: go away

With that situation handled, Emma neatly bites off one point of her star-shaped cookie, and turns her eyes back to her laptop screen. 36 minutes to go.

Score: Emma – 1; Universe – 0.

The Universe decides to try again.

Incoming Video Call: Emily Xing

Emma slowly swipes across her phone screen after triple-checking that her earphones are 100% plugged in.

“... Hi Gramma.”

“Emma!” Several ladies’ heads of various artificial shades of red, brown and black bob into view behind Emma’s grandmother’s face on Emma’s phone. “Why can’t we log in to your VooDooTM account on Mimi’s computer?”

“... Gramma, did you all reschedule your tai chi group to watch Gege’s stream together using my VIP account which you definitely bragged about to them?”

“Emily, we kowtow! Your Emma is the best!” hollers one of the ladies. Emma’s grandmother preens.

Gramma, Emma despairs, why are you so Asian?

“Emmie~”

Emma closes her eyes and mutters, “Don’t Emmie me...”

“We have VooDooTM open on my laptop, but there is seven of us and one laptop is not enough! Mimi’s computer cannot access the page! It says – it says – what does it say?!” Emma’s grandmother yells.

“This content is not available in your country!” Aunty Mimi yells back from somewhere behind.

Emma sighs in exasperation, “Gramma, they’ll need to install a VPN. Do you remember how we did it on your computer?”

Emma’s grandmother is stunningly silent for a solid three seconds, and shakes her head. Emma sighs again. “What’s the address?”

One minute later:

LuckyStar: Danny danny danny

LuckyStar: is everytng ok w mom?

BetterDanU: yeah, shes taken over my living room and tv I hooked up to the comp.

BetterDanU: Shes drinkin a poisonous lppking pink drink and eating those giant star cookies they hv. Theyre not going to last until the end of the dtream.

LuckyStar: … wait.

LuckyStar: wHAT COOKIES. Get them away frm her, shes almost diabetic!

BetterDanU: how can someone be slmost diabetic???

BetterDanU: … she says its low sugar. theyre actually rpetty good.

BetterDanU: *pretty

LuckyStar: u traitor! and of all the typos to correct!

BetterDanU: ….......

LuckyStar: anyway, DANNY I NEED UR HELP ITS ANOTHER EMERGENCY

BetterDanU: what now

LuckyStar: dont tell mom this,

BetterDanU: oh? gossip?

LuckyStar: but gramma is with her taichi grp now and theyre trying to stream Gege’s event on two computers but the second one wont work becz they need vpn on that one

BetterDanU: Wow. brutal gramma.

LuckyStar: danny pleeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaase can u go help them install the vpn

LuckyStar: pleeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase 🥺🥺🥺

BetterDanU: ….............

BetterDanU: where r they

Twenty-ish minutes and one VPN install and seven impressed old ladies and one harrassed Daniel Ng later, Emma daintily bites off the second point of her star cookie.

Emma – 2; Universe – 0.

Xiqiang sips her tea quietly as Emma narrates this second victory to her, and then digresses into hero-worshipping multi-talented, golden-hearted John Zheng.

Emma swoons. “We all stan him so much across multiple generations! Sure, he’s eye candy, but you know what, even I can admit that, objectively, he’s not the best looking. No but!” She sucks in some of her frappe to quickly rehydrate, “Even though his eyes are not 100% symmetrical, you know they’re 100% real! Can’t say the same about everyone else! Not that there’s anything wrong with that. And! Even though his teeth aren’t 100% perfect... You should see his smile! Oh! My! Heart!” She clutches said heart. “So genuine! Like a bunny! And most of all, that VOICE! That BRAIN! And that HEART!”

Xiqiang tilts her head slightly in what is definitely interest.

“You should watch his songs and dramas and his interviews! He’s really mature, has a charming sort of wisdom, and he really understands his characters. He works so, so hard, and he’s super nice to everyone, even his janitors! And even his haters! Like, what the heck!” A deep sigh. “He is. The Best Guy. In the Universe.”

And thus, the Universe’s third Attempt at utter buffoonery manifests itself in the yet another round of buzzing of Emma’s Very Tired phone. Emma slowly slumps in her seat. Xiqiang’s almond eyes flick to the poor phone, and she excuses herself as she returns to her own laptop for business-y exorcist stuff.

Emma breathes in. Very Deeply. And returns to her Very Tired phone.

Alicia: Hi Emma!

Alicia: Its been a while. I hope you are well!

Emma scrolls up to check the last conversation she had with Alicia. Eight months ago, when they had exchanged the obligatory birthday wishes, and then slinked back to their respective lives until the next birthday.

It’s a bit sad, actually. Emma and a handful of secondary school friends had once been pretty tight, having gone through the horrors of academia and adolescence together. But ever since graduation, everyone had sort of just... drifted apart. With the exception of Danny, practically everyone she knew and was close to had gone on to different cities and even countries to pursue tertiary education in fields so varied you would wonder how everyone had even managed to grow up together in the same academic cohort forced to take up certain courses due to the way their country’s totally not flawed educational system had been structured because of course everyone absolutely agrees on the complete relevance to real life that is inherent in subjects such as Physics and Geography and Moral Studies (which, in all fairness, would be considered a fairly necessary subject especially in today’s society, had it not been based on pure rote memorisation of the regimented definitions of pre-determined moral values instead of critically applying said moral values in the written scenarios thrown to them every exam) and flippin’ dipsticky CALCULUS and and and -

And we digress.

Emma: Alicia! It’s been a while!

Emma: How may I help u?

Alicia: Heehee. 😇

Alicia: iirc, I think u mentioned that u got a VIP VooDooTM account?

Emma: … Alicia you leech! Go buy ur own account!

Alicia: im poor and u know it!

Emma: We’re millennials! We're all poor!

Emma: go upgrade with a 30 day free trial. Then just unsubscribe after.

Alicia: I can’t. 😭 I did it before and ti remembers my email add and wont let me do it again.

Alicia: *it *won’t

Emma: Then use another email add! We’re millennials! Who doesn’t have a back up email account?

Alicia: I did! I used up my JmailTM, insightTM, innet, etc etc accounts last year

Emma: Use ur parents’!

Alicia: I did! They were

Alicia: Confused when they got the notifs but thank goodness they thought it was Junk 😊

Emma: … Girl, how much drama do you watch on there.

Alicia: Too much. Im in too many fandoms.

Alicia: EMMA PLEASE! It's just to watch John Zhengs promo livestream for The Fox today! I swear I will not misuse ur account!

Alicia: One day when I have money, I swear I will buy my own account.

Emma: That is a lie and we both know it.

Alicia: 🤐

Emma remembers their shared afternoons of literal tears after every Calculus test they barely passed, and curses her soft heart as she gives Alicia her user name and password in an act of benevolence which she somehow has a feeling she will come to regret.

Alicia: Thank you sm. U rock!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Emma: Its so u don’t get desperate enough to do anytng illegal.

Alicia: We both know im not that smart lol

Emma: We are legal! And scrupulous!

Emma: For Zheng ge!

Alicia: For Zheng ge!

“John Zheng seems to have an unusually loyal fanbase,” Xiqiang comments from behind her laptop. Emma nods absent-mindedly. She has barely bitten off the third point of her star cookie when her Very Very Tired phone begins buzzing again.

Incoming Video Call: BetterDanU

No longer keeping track of her score with the Universe, Emma sinks lower into her chair under Xiqiang’s intrigued gaze, and weakly answers her phone, “Hello?”

She does not expect her grandmother’s distraught face under the profile name of BetterDanU: “Emmie! Why can’t we log into your account with another computer? It says that – that – Danny ah, what does it say?”

Emma nearly spits out blood. “How many devices are you trying to log into?!” Her hard-earned, greatly coveted VIP account that no one else seemed to want to buy for themselves allowed simultaneous sign-ins to a maximum of ten different devices, a feature that was absolutely necessary for the three generations of the Xing family.

“Mimi’s daughters and granddaughters came downstairs and heard about Zheng ge’s livestream. Two laptops are not enough for all of us, so of course we had to get more!”

Emma sends a silent thank you to Danny who by now must be an expert on VPN installations. Speaking of which.

“Danny, you there? Just sign up for a free 30-day trial account. And don’t forget to unsubscribe later.”

“I did.” Danny’s muffled voice sounds admirably calm, but there is definitely the subtlest note of misery in it. “Aunty Mimi’s granddaughter invited her neighbourhood friends to watch the stream, and we are out of accounts.”

“How! Many! Computers?!”

Emma thinks she hears a suspicious clearing of the throat from Xiqiang that may or may not have been a laugh. Emma locks eyes with her in despair.

There is a tiny, tiny curl of Xiqiang’s lips as she casually remarks, “I am done with my e-mails for the day, and would like to relax with some form of entertainment. VooDooTM seems to have quite the selection of highly rated dramas like you advertised so eagerly to me earlier, and I have been told that there will be a promotional livestream this evening for the much-anticipated... The Fox?” There is definitely a sparkle in those almond eyes. “I thought it might interest you to know that I have decided to watch this livestream, and will do so on my newly purchased VIP account, the user details of which -” she slides over a SundollarsTM napkin covered in the prettiest handwriting Emma has ever had the good fortune to lay her bloodshot eyes on, “ - are written here.”

Emma stares at her with now goo-goo eyes. “Xiqiang! You are a literal angel!”

“Xi-what? Who are you with?” Danny’s head pops into view next to Gramma’s gleeful face.

“Danny! I’m hanging up! I’ll send you a new user account info you guys can use!”

“What -” his calm façade is definitely slipping.

Emma does not hear the curious titters of “Xiqiang? Wah! What an intimidating name!” “Who would dare to name their son Xiqiang?” “Must be very strong!” “Must be very shuai!” as she chirps in reply, “A professional exorcist, your saviour, and my new bf!”

A delicate clink of a white plate ladened with fresh chocolate chip muffins jerks Emma’s eyes up from her phone. “Oh, a snack for the stream? Xiqiang, did you order this? You shouldn’t have!”

Xiqiang leans forward to divide the muffins evenly. “It is fine.”

Danny chokes on the other line, “What what what -”

“Now don’t bother me anymore, Zheng ge’s livestream is going to start. Check your message! I’ll send you the info! See you later! Bye, Gramma! Bye, Aunties! Enjoy the stream! Zheng ge fighting!”

LuckyStar: [photo attached]

LuckyStar: Isn’t that THE prettiest handwriting you have ever seen?

LuckyStar: Oh, but if you can’t read it, the login name is YXQ_Gege

LuckyStar: and password is LuckyStar123

LuckyStar: wow. what a sense of humour.

LuckyStar: Anyway! U seriously rock! Thanks Danny! I owe u my life!

LuckyStar: Aunty mimi makes seriously good cakes, so u might as well stay.

LuckyStar: And remember, don’t tell mom!!!

BetterDanU: WHO IS XIQIANG AND WHY IS HIS PASSWORD UR USERNAME

The star cookie is decimated as Emma congratulates herself on a job well done against the schemes of the Universe. Her laptop screen is flooded with comments when John Zheng’s shy smile fades into view as the livestream finally, finally begins.

“Gege!” Emma whisper-squeals. “You can’t hear me and you don’t know I exist! But! You will not believe the night I’ve just had! Your face heals my eyes and your heart heals my soul!” She silences her desperately buzzing phone.

Xiqiang breathes in deeply, and lets herself smile for the first time in a very long time. After an unusual evening of using the Skytrain for the first time, encountering a low-levelled spirit which the Council had not thought to Cleanse, meeting the most interesting Class Three medium who was currently hugging her backpack as she immersed herself in a long-awaited livestream of a clearly beloved celebrity who she had taken great pains to introduce Xiqiang to, and putting the tiniest dent in her bank account to sign up for a VooDooTM account for various reasons, Xiqiang relaxes in her chair, and does not let herself think about tomorrow.

Character Profiles

1. Emma Xing Qixin

Emma is derived from the Germanic word ermen meaning "whole" or "universal". Emma is also used as a diminutive of Emmeline, Amelia or any other name beginning with "em".

星 (Xīng): star

运气 (Yùnqì): luck

欣 (Xīn): happy

Height: 154 cm; 5.05 ft | 159 cm (error; there is a story behind this)

Tools: Several reuseable shopping bags, backpack, blond cyborg keychain, laptop, secondhand phone, baby blue smiley starfish charm bought by her mom Estelle and customised further by her grandmother Emily

2. Xiqiang

希望 (Xīwàng): hope

强度 (Qiángdù): strength

For the sake of this story, “Xiqiang” is considered a very masculine name.

Height: 179 cm; 5.87 ft

Tools: Laptop, traditional calligraphy brush set, angled-tip pen set, normal ballpoint pen set

3. Estelle Xing

Estelle is a female given name of Latin origin, and means star.

星 (Xīng): star

Yes, her name literally means Star Star.

Emma Xing’s mother. Has rather bad luck. She admits that, although her daughter can drive her up the wall, she is her greatest blessing and happiness.

4. Daniel Ng

Daniel is a masculine given name and a surname of Hebrew origin. It means "God is my judge".

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Ng (pronounced [ŋ̍]; English approximation often /ɪŋ/ or /ɛŋ/) is a Cantonese transliteration of the Chinese surnames 吳/吴 (Mandarin Wú) and 伍 (Mandarin Wǔ). Alternately, it is a common Hokkien transcription of the name 黃/黄 (Pe̍h-ōe-jī: N̂ɡ, Mandarin Huáng).

Emma Xing’s errand boy. And former classmate. The real MVP.

5. Emily Xing

Emily: "rival" or industrious and hardworking, comes from the Latin name Aemilia.

星 (Xīng): star

Emma Xing’s grandmother. Is more techno-savvy than her daughter/Emma’s mother Estelle Xing. Story behind that TBA.

6. Alicia

Alicia means “of noble kind/sort/type” (from Germanic “adal” = noble + “heit” = kind/sort/type).

Emma Xing’s friend from secondary school. They have both narrowly passed Calculus exams together, which cannot be said for all their classmates.

7. John Zheng

The name John is a theophoric name originating from the Hebrew name יוֹחָנָן‎ (Yôḥānān), or in its longer form יְהוֹחָנָן‎ (Yəhôḥānān), meaning "YHWH has been gracious".

战争 (Zhànzhēng): war

Author is now too lazy to come up with a Chinese name, thank you very much.

Author’s Notes

Character profiles will not be written for every single character because ain’t nobody got time for that. They will be updated as the story progresses. If I have the discipline to actually write this dang story. \o/

This is just a test run. I have not truly touched creative writing in a very, very long time, and have sadly lost many different characters and plot bunnies over the years as I never had the will to just put pen to paper, or finger to keyboard. And neither have I ever tried tackling anything this ambitious, if you can call this ambitious. (Well, actually, I did make a pathetic attempt at a novel ten or so years ago, and reading THAT draft just made me cringe and shrivel up and die on the inside. Which will probably happen to this fic in ten years’ time? \o/ )

Oh my gosh, I’m so tired of formatting this now. Please excuse any typos because I just. Cannot.

If you somehow stumbled across this fic and read until the end, bless your heart, bless your eyes, and thank you for reading!

#DSESMSS #Documentation on a Silver Exorcist A Small Medium A Smiling Siren et al.#Documentation #fic #words #writing #my writing #detentio mea #do not copy to another site #don't copy to another site #derp #maya-net

2 notes · View notes

trying-write-fanfics · 5 years ago

Text

OverhaulXReader part 41 (E)

So this a different path/decision written for the long ass Overhaul story. Basically this part takes place after part 40, but the E and the O in the titles stand for different paths. I hope that’s not too confusing.

Y/n had forgotten to set her alarms. Though she didn’t sleep much the night before, she had the morning. When she did wake up, she felt like shit. It was hard to peel herself out of bed because she wanted to go back and sleep. Kai really did a number on her last night, so much build up to only get ruined by more fighting.

Marriage? Now? What was she thinking? Sure her life was pretty set in the career department, but Overhaul didn’t want her around his men for his own reasons. He didn’t think she could defend herself, BUT HE WAS RIGHT! Marrying someone he has to worry about would probably be too much for him.

When she entered the bakery she was expecting to get scolded, but everyone had hounded her for a completely different reason.

“Don’t clock in just yet!”

“I can’t believe it!”

“A pro hero wants you to visit the hospital!”

They all wanted to know how she was close with a pro-hero. Y/n couldn’t believe how the events were getting weirder. First she had an over the top romantic date with her boyfriend which ended in life threatening disaster, and now a pro-hero summoned her. She knew exactly who it was, but she didn’t think her friendship with Tai was that deep. Then again it’s been a couple years and she does give him free food.

“Is it dire?” She asked.

“Of course it is!” Her employees pushed her.

It hit her that only the staff at the old restaurant knew about her being in a relationship. Ever since she had the bakery she never really mentioned Overhaul, no one really asked. They all just thought it was a little cool that pro-hero Fatgum would stop by.

“Alright, don’t burn the place down.” She yawned.

“Oversleep? Is that why you’re late?”

“Yeah I ran into some villain activity last night.”

“They should use you as a radar to find villains!”

She wanted to call Overhaul, but resisted the urge. He told her last night he had an early morning. He was working and couldn’t be bothered with little worries. Oh to be engaged. To show it off to her co-workers and then say they’re having a small wedding. How she’d rub it in her mother’s face for trying to set her up with that gross doctor. It would be a true fairytale ending. Would she go traditional or western for the dress? Overhaul would probably want to go traditional, but she wanted a big puffy skirt and call herself a full cake. Telling her he loves her in front of everyone they know. Oh such naughty thoughts. But he didn't propose, so it would be best to store such thoughts.

At the hospital, the nurses directed Y/n to Fatgum. There were two younger people in the room with him. Suneater who she recognized despite the bandages, and an even younger body in a full cast. Both the boys were asleep. She didn’t even recognize Tai. He was in a hospital gown, awake. He had a bandage on his face and head.

“I might be in the wrong room.” She said.

“Did someone else call you?” Oh it was his voice.

“I’ve never seen you without a mask before.” She tried covering up. “Sorry sorry.”

“It’s fine, Red Riot over there didn’t even know it was me and I was with him during the whole transformation.” He told her

“You have a whole party in here. What happened?”

“I can’t give you too many details, but we did complete a raid.”

Fatgum had a plan. Considering Y/n was still in the city, and willing to visit him, she doesn’t know what happened to the Shie Hassakai yet. Despite her lack of knowledge that didn’t make him feel easy. It seemed the league and the Shie Hassakai were not on good terms when they worked together. She may have been used without knowing it, but she wasn’t safe yet. He wanted her here so that no one would attack her. Her fate was unsure.

“Did you need anything from me? Meals?” She asked him

“Nothing like that, I thought maybe I could turn the tables.” He tried joking.

“Too bad I’m not a hero.” She told him. “I’d have to change my whole wardrobe if I was.”

“Thank you for coming, Y/n. You’re a good friend.” He was worried this visit was going to be too short.

Tai was learning a lot from her movements. She didn’t see flustered or worried about Overhaul. She couldn’t have known. If she did there would be no reason how she could act so calmly. She’d be overwhelmed if she found out her boyfriend's place was raided. What if they were never a couple and Tai only put a bunch of information that seemed connected wasn’t? Sure they did go to the same elementary, and maybe she came back home just to be close with her family or the place she grew up at. Maybe her and Overhaul got a drink once or they were friendly at her restaurant which made that guy assume they were more than something and choked her. Overhaul was just probably being nice. Sure her grandpa was connected to the old head, but her parents seemed to have distanced themselves as much as possible, which probably distanced Y/n. They might know each other and that is all. Overhaul could have used someone else's regeneration quirk despite Y/n being the closed guess. There were so many things they still didn’t know.

“Well you did the same for me. At least you have your interns with you.” She told him. “I bet you were a great leader.”

“I feel like a lot of the good today was already in their hearts.” He told Y/n.

Y/n stayed a bit longer but confessed she had to get back to work. Fatgum tried to sway her, but his words fell on deaf ears. She promised she’d bring him a meal tomorrow and for his interns, but for now she had to manage the bakery.

The Wicked Sparrow’s bakery was hopping with customers and her employees were bustling. They asked her the connection she had with pro hero Fatgum over and over and just drooled over the story of being personally saved. They all had at least seen him in person a couple times since he was a customer who wasn’t so easily disguised. They asked if he was her boyfriend, but she told the truth and said “no”.

It felt wrong, the whole day did. Overhaul was going to propose, she knew it in her heart! He mentioned it at a wedding for crying out loud! Now her friend was injured and her employees gushed over her closeness to a hero. They came a dime a dozen!

When the work day was done, Y/n dragged herself to the subway to get home. She hadn’t heard from Overhaul all day, but that wasn’t new. She just missed him. Especially now. She wishes she could tell both Overhaul and Fatgum to get different jobs, less dangerous. It would be easier said than done. These jobs were what they dreamed of since they were young, being there head of the yakuza and a pro-hero.

Y/n unlocked her apartment door and found her place to be a mess. The couch was flipped, wine glasses were broke, there were papers everywhere. She hesitated but slowly stepped in the house. She knew it was best to call the police before walking in, but she might have had stuff to hide. She turned into the bathroom to find the sink running. She shut it off and pulled the shower curtain to see if anyone was hiding. No one. Behind her she heard a click, and her eyes widened. Danger again. Something that happened so many times and yet the feeling never adapted well. Her eyes looked in the mirror to find a man with a gas mask on behind her pointing a gun at the back of her head.

“If you wanna live, come with me.”

“O-okay.” She shook.

“Wait.” He said as Y/n turned to face the man.

He took her phone out of her pocket and smashed it against the sink. That was her only hope! There would have to be some sort of GPS on it, she gave Overhaul her “find my friends”. And now she’s gonna die!

Y/n followed him to the car. He instructed her to get in the back seat as he drove. The locks on the car had child locks to prevent the escape.

“This won’t be so bad I promise.” The man said

Oh god she was going to get...she couldn’t even think it. Her lungs tightened.

“You don’t trust me?”

“I’m gonna end up on the news, being a dismembered body aren’t I?” She asked, shaking.

“No, not that.” He told her.

The man’s demeanor was different in the apartment than in the car. In the apartment he was intimidating, wanting to kill her, y’all, looking over her, broke her phone. Now he was more casual and relaxed. Trying to make it seem this wasn’t the worst thing to happen. If she stayed with Fatgum maybe this wouldn’t happen even though this guy was hiding in her place. It was inevitable wasn’t it? He was probably crazy, he was pulling this.

“I actually don’t know how you’re gonna take any of it, to be quite honest.” He told her.

“Why do you care? Are you a stalker?” Why is he pretending to care how she takes this! He kidnapped her. “If you’re gonna kill me why didn’t you just do it back there?”

“Well I’m not a stalker...okay maybe sorta, I was interested in who you are.” He told her.

“Oh my god!” She fiddled with the door handle that didn’t do anything to unlock.

“Hey, hey calm down! I’m not gonna hurt you unless you make me!”

“I just might make you, I’m not as submissive as you think!” She growled, kicking his seat.

“Hey hey! I’m taking you somewhere! Can’t you see I’m driving!”

“If I’m gonna die, I’ll take us both down!” She yelled.

Noticing she wasn’t wearing her seat belt the man took a sharp fast turn which caused her to slam her face in the windows. She groaned as she held her cheek.

“Dick.” She told him.

“You made me!” He yelled.

“Yeah, I made you kidnap me!”

“I’m doing something nice for someone.”

“Oh my god! Did my mom put you up to this! What is it this time! That I didn’t come crawling back to her and that now it’s real that I wasn’t coming back!”

Under the mask the man felt the pressure of the situation rising. She was just throwing wild cards at him and he didn’t know how to respond, but also keep the favor concealed.

“What? She did, didn’t she?”

“No. Right now the less you know the better.”

“That’s so unfair! How long is it gonna take for us to get to wherever you’re driving?”

“A while. I was hoping we can talk to keep the drive less boring, but it seems to only be stressful. I’ll turn on the radio.” He said.

Ariana Grande’s Break Free came on. It was the chorus.

“Looks like the radio is trying to tell me something.” Y/n said.

“We’re obviously not listening to that.” Told her.

He dialed the radio and the next station was playing Sweet Escape by Gwen Steffani. He could see Y/n raising an eyebrow at him. Sweating, he put on the news, and it was about a woman escaping from her abuser and setting them on fire.

“NEVER MIND!” The man yelled turning off the radio.

The car ride was long, but Y/n was feeling like she could put her guard down just a little bit. It was gonna be a long car ride that didn’t seem like it was going to end. While the man couldn’t do anything but drive, she could at least relax her muscles. She wondered what Overhaul was doing. She didn’t know if he knew she was missing her not. He might be too embarrassed to face her just yet after last night. He shouldn’t though, though he despises so many heros, he was her hero last night. But it’s still a high possibility. She also didn’t message him at all today! The day slipped away from her! That could add to the distance. If he did find out she was missing, he would probably lose it. It would start with a call to ask about last night, he can surprise her. Sure they are immature sometimes, but Overhaul did overcome a lot to be with Y/n, she knew that. There would be no pick up. When he gets a free moment he would break in and see her place was a mess. Though she was the messier one, she wasn’t that messy. But what hints or clues would he have to be able to track her down. She was a goner.

“Hey, I have a favor to ask, stalker.”

“I can’t let you out.”

“If I’m gonna die, I wanna at least let someone know how much I love them. You can read the letter if you want if you’re worried if I’m gonna snitch you out. We can mail it from a random address too. I just can’t forgive myself if I left things like I did.”

“Did you two break up?” The man asked.

“First of all rude, yes I’m in a relationship, and no we didn’t fight last night.” Her knife like tone was back up. “I just want him to know my feelings haven’t changed, even if it’s hard to tell sometimes.”

“Well I’m not gonna kill you.”

“So who is?”

“I meant the purpose of this trip isn’t gonna get you killed.” The man said.

“I don’t trust like that.” She told him.

“I’ll think about it, but we’re almost there anyway.”

She sighed. Y/n’s eyes looked through the tinted window to see they were on the coast. Her eyes went to the other window finding they were in a less populated area. There was grass and trees, the waves crashed on the sand. The sun was going down. Y/n didn’t even know what to think at such a location. Who did she know would want her at a beach? It wasn’t a nice beach, a little dumpy with litter and seaweed. The car pulled into the rundown town. There were no huge big store names. Some even were planting flowers in their windows. They drove out of the downtown area and then drove into some secluded private property. There was a lot of land, a lot of lush greenery too, covering the house from the street view. They parked in front of the small cabin.

“Whatever you do, try not to scream.” The man told her.

Y/n gulped as she was reaching for the front door.

#overhaulxreader #overhaul #chisaki kai #chisaki kaixreader #xreader #bnha #bnha fanfiction

7 notes · View notes