#anyway i also love the gender of it all like -- she would absolutely revel in femininity the way that sir revels in masculinity. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

novoaa1writes · 4 years

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candles

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pairing(s): dark!wanda maximoff x reader

summary:

you’ve been feeling strange for the past month, particularly when it comes to dating.

you do your best to ignore it, thinking it’ll resolve itself on its own—given time, that is.

it doesn’t.

(and it’s got everything to do with wanda.)

[also available on ao3]

word count: ~5,300

rating: mature

warnings: dark!wanda, NON-CON spanking (with a belt), NON-CON BDSM play, mental manipulation, partial mind control, emotional manipulation, mental coercion, trauma bonding, toxic dynamics, drinking, possessive!wanda, non-con mind-reading, vandalism, adultery (not in reference to you or wanda), brief instances of slut-shaming

notes: [requested by anon] reader’s sexuality isn’t explicitly stated, but ex-partners of different genders are referenced/mentioned

— —

wanda uses a couple bulgarian terms of endearment for reader here, so below is a lil’ list in the order of which they appear.

*note: all of these are exactly one letter away from being precise matches to synonymous terms in russian. HOWEVER, the bulgarian alphabet and the russian alphabet are different—granted, in fairly minor ways. for one, while both are comprised of cyrillic lettering, russian has 33 while bulgarian only has 30.

— —

You have no fucking clue what’d gotten into you.

One moment, things were fine—good, even. And the next… well.

You’ll explain.

It was something like 11:30 on a Saturday night, and you were drunk.

Well, not drunk. More like buzzed.

But whatever, right? Considering the week you’d had, you deserved to let loose, even if only for a night.

Monday night saw a very angry and decidedly unhinged soccer mom banging on your door, screeching vehemently about the ‘two-faced slut’ who ruined her marriage and demanding to be let in so that she could ‘make her sorry.’ Turns out, the older guy your roommate had been sleeping with as of late was married—not that he’d bothered to share that particular bit of information with her, obviously.

The two of you spent the better part of the evening barricaded inside, passing a bottle of cheap wine back and forth while trying to explain to the 911 operator that you weren’t messing around, that there really was an angry soccer mom on your doorstep and you were actively fearing for your safety.

She eventually left around 10:00pm—no thanks to the police, since the 911 operator hadn’t even bothered to give them a call. It wasn’t until the next morning when you left for work that you saw the woman’s parting gift to the pair of you: the word ‘HOMEWRECKER’ spray-painted across the front door in obnoxious red lettering.

Bye-bye, security deposit.

That same night, you made your roommate promise to start dating people in a similar age range—because really, the both of you were stressed enough as it was without worrying about coming in between yet another middle-aged couple’s dying marriage.

The rest of the week wasn’t much better.

On Thursday, your balding creep of a boss had made yet another blatant pass at you in the workplace, making you seriously consider (and not for the first time) the prospect of just quitting and being done with it.

Then, at shit o’clock on a Friday morning, you awoke to an urgent phone call informing you that an ex of yours (one you were actually on semi-decent terms with) had gotten into a fairly serious car accident, and still had you marked down as her emergency contact.

30 minutes later found you showing up at the hospital just moments after your ex’s current girlfriend had arrived, which then prompted the whole ‘you still being your ex’s emergency contact’ revelation when the current girlfriend demanded to know what you were doing there, which ended up being… well, you’ll just say it wasn’t pretty, and leave it at that.

And your ex was going to be completely fine, anyways. She just had some minor cuts and abrasions, and would need to undergo a fairly minor (read: minimally invasive) surgery over the next couple days.

Before leaving, you instigated a quick check-in with the doctors to ensure they had everything they needed—which then turned into you providing a list of allergies, as your ex wouldn’t likely be conscious for another couple of hours, and apparently the current girlfriend didn’t know of her sensitivities to penicillin and phenobarbital… which the current girlfriend was less than happy about, if the daggers she glared at you were any indication.

Whatever. You were just trying to help.

You thanked the doctors, told them to feel free to call you if anything went awry, then asked if they might tell your ex to call you when she awoke. You thought about offering some words of comfort to the current girlfriend as she sat vigil at your ex’s bedside, but the murderous glower she shot you the moment you got within ten feet of her was more than enough to make you think better of it.

With that, you left.

So… yeah. It’d been a shitty week.

And now, here you were: a girls’ night out at the lively nightclub you and your roommate had scoped out just last weekend, tossing back $12 cocktails and letting the trashy EDM beat blaring over the speakers drown out the rest of your thoughts.

You’d been feeling a little weird all week—all month, really.

As far as you were concerned, this was exactly what the doctor had ordered.

So, when a cute guy wearing black jeans and a white T-shirt that was at least a couple sizes too big yet did well to compliment his well-muscled torso came up to you and started chatting you up at the bar, you didn’t blow him off.

The exact opposite, in fact.

He was nice, and funny, and had a gorgeous smile that made your chest feel warm for reasons that had nothing to do with the alcohol. When he flirted with you, you flirted right back.

You felt a little guilty for doing so, though you couldn’t exactly put a finger on why that was. Either way, you didn’t allow yourself to dwell on it for very long.

After all, you’d been feeling hints of that for the past month, if not longer. It seemed to happen whenever you flirted with a cute guy, or went out on another Tinder date with a pretty girl, or even hugged one of your close friends.

You’d get this painful tightening sensation in your gut, nausea roiling in your abdomen… a distant, lofty voice in your head telling you that this was wrong, that you already belonged to someone else.

Which was pointless, really. Stupid.

You were single.

Your last serious relationship (barring the one with your now-hospitalized ex-girlfriend) had been over seven months ago with an eccentric guy named Lukas. He was kind, well-meaning… a bit of a dork at his very core, but you always found that more endearing than anything else. You’d dated him for four and a half months before deciding to break it off; because as much as you cared for him and enjoyed being around him, you didn’t love him, and you knew by then that you never would.

You thought about him, from time to time—even missed him now and again.

And yet, the strangest thing about the shameful feeling you’d get whenever your roommate so much as brushed a friendly kiss up against your cheek—it had absolutely nothing to do with Lukas.

You didn’t know how you knew that, but you did.

Whatever.

This guy was not Lukas.

His name was Des—short for Desmond, you learned over your fourth sugary-sweet cocktail of the night. He was charming and slightly foul-mouthed, but conscientious and passably polite where it mattered. He didn’t grope your ass or stare at your tits, nor did he make any lewd commentary about your body in any capacity.

He also smelled… really good, like Old Spice and spearmint gum and the barest hint of cigarette smoke.

That was more than enough for you.

(Whatever, alright? Decent guys were in short supply these days.)

You smiled and let him buy you another drink, even after you’d insisted that he really, really didn’t have to. And when an obnoxious pop song with a beat that was far more catchy than you’d have liked to admit came over the speakers, you let him coax you out to the dance floor with minimal resistance.

It was… fun. You liked the way his hands rested on either of your hips—gentle, almost careful; holding you like he understood he didn’t have a right to your body, like he was more than content that you allowed him this to even think of demanding any more.

Despite the twinges of guilt flaring in your gut, you let yourself get a little more comfortable… dancing closer and closer to him amidst a packed crowd of writhing bodies, letting your breasts graze up against his chest.

It was teasing—provocative, even. A test, of sorts—one that Des passed with flying colors.

He didn’t do a thing to rush you, just kept dancing across from you with his hands on your hips and his darkened gaze on yours—seeming fully content to let you set the pace for the moment. And God, but the way he was looking at you… patient but eager, like he wanted nothing more than to crush your body against his own and grind himself into you like an animal—and yet, still, he held himself back.

You couldn’t help but find that attractive as hell.

Looping your arms around his neck, you let your body to press flush against his as you swayed to the beat of the song, not shying away from the slight stiffness you could feel growing against your hip.

That guilty, nauseous feeling in your gut pulled tighter.

You ignored it, and, when he leaned a little closer to shout over the deafening music, “Would it be alright if I kissed you?”... well.

You wasted absolutely no time in lunging up on the tips of your toes to capture his lips in a messy open-mouthed kiss, the strobe lights of the club fading into obscurity around you. His lips were warm and gentle against yours—tentative, at first, until you pressed a little harder and traced the seam of his lips with your tongue… and, yeah; that did the trick.

A moment later, his lips parted to let out a quiet groan directly into your mouth as he began to reciprocate in earnest, setting every nerve ending on your body alight with electrifying want.

And that’s when it happened.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a twisted sort of clarity hit you square in the chest—slowly, and then all at once.

The next bits were something of a blur.

You tore yourself away from Des, turned to forcibly elbow your way through a floor of grinding bodies. You thought you heard him call out your name, and more than a couple people on the dancefloor turned to glare at you as you rudely brushed past them without care—but, whatever.

You texted… someone, telling them you were headed back to the apartment, so they shouldn’t bother waiting up. The group chat, maybe?

And now… Now.

Before you can blink, the past crashes into the present, and you find yourself back outside in the pitch-black night.

It’s dark… chilly. A brisk wind catches you the moment you stumble out onto the sidewalk, assaulting every inch of your exposed skin like scores of needles piercing your flesh. You whimper, shudder, and hug your arms around your body—trying to warm yourself back up like a scared little kid who forgot their jacket.

For the first time that night, you regret the tiny black babydoll dress you’d chosen to wear for the evening—and that’s not even to mention the four-inch heels.

It’s miserable, to be sure, but you can hardly focus on it for very long.

No, you have to go somewhere. You feel sick, and cold, and wrong in a way you’re loath to even begin explaining to anyone else.

And your head… you’re positively aching for something—someone to make this better.

You need… Wanda.

Yes, Wanda is the person you’re looking for. She can make all of this better.

You don’t know why, but you’re sure of it. You just need to find her. Hopefully she’s spending the night in her apartment on that super cozy sofa of hers, drinking hot chocolate and binge-watching something on Netflix like the two of you did a couple weeks back.

A fond grin curves your lips at the recollection as you stumble off down the sidewalk, headed for the nearest subway station.

Another wintry gust of wind hits you square in the chest, and you pinch your forearm hard, silently willing yourself to focus.

The station should be less than a block down, if you’re remembering correctly.

At the next street corner, you manage to brandish your pepper spray in one hand while you rummage around in your purse for your MetroCard with the other.

It’s cold as hell, and you’re probably a little too drunk to be walking through the City streets alone right now, but you don’t much care.

All you gotta do is find Wanda. That’s all.

She’ll make everything better again.

— —

Where everything else is confusing, there’s one part that seems to make sense—Wanda.

You nearly pick a fight with the card reader at the subway entrance when it makes you swipe your card three times to let you through, and even the stairs leading down to the lower tracks are more of a challenge than they probably should be… and yet, somehow, the rest of it is blessedly simple. A no-brainer, really.

You know which train you need to take… the blue one that arrives in four minutes. You know you need to stay on it for five stops before getting off.

Once you’re up at ground level, you’ll have a short walk ahead of you—one that you know like the back of your hand despite only ever having been to Wanda’s a couple of times.

You’ll enter Wanda’s apartment building, take the elevator right up to floor four, and boom! Home free.

You do exactly that.

It takes a short time (thankfully) and there’s not an ounce of uncertainty within you all the while, like you’ve done this 100 times before.

In seemingly no time at all, you’re there—standing on Wanda’s doorstep, knocking a couple times just beneath the burnished bronze ‘4A’ nailed into her door.

Your head feels all light and dizzy; you’re still shuddering from the time you spent out in the cold; but—

“One sec!” Wanda’s muffled voice comes from inside, the mere sound of it washing over you like a soothing balm—promising relief.

You’re safe now.

You made it.

— —

The moment the door swings open to reveal a bleary-eyed Wanda Maximoff dressed in tiny grey pajama shorts, an oversized Star Trek T-shirt, and nothing else, it’s like everything falls back into place.

It’s like… like you can breathe again.

You’re still drunk, and shivering, and more than a bit confused; but now that Wanda’s awake and here and smirking like she knows exactly what’s happening even if you don’t, you feel… better, somehow. Not nearly so lost as you were before.

“Y/N,” Wanda greets, stepping aside and offering out a hand to help you inside. You’re quick to take it. “I was not expecting you,” she drawls, though everything about her demeanor is saying the opposite as she shuts and locks the door behind you.

You pay it little mind. “Yeah, I... ” you trail off, turning to face her even as an embarrassed flush warms your cheeks. All of a sudden, you can’t help but feel rather ridiculous for knocking on her door and barging in so late—especially without calling first. “I’m so sorry, I... I don’t know why I’m here.”

Wanda just tilts her head, appraising you curiously even as the ghost of a knowing smile curves her lips. “Are you sure about that?”

The heat in your cheeks seems to intensify tenfold at that. “I… I need to tell you something,” you hear yourself say, and the moment it’s registered, you realize that it’s true.

You feel… guilty, all of a sudden. Nauseous, too. Scared.

You danced with that guy—Des. You flirted with him. You let him touch you… You kissed him. Why would you do that?

In the present moment, Wanda nods, like that makes perfect sense. Like all of this makes perfect sense.

“Okay,” she acquiesces lightly, flares of crimson flitting through her measured gaze. “Is it something I’ll have to punish you for?”

‘Punish’ me? What—?

You feel Wanda’s presence in your head… inconspicuous tendrils sifting through your thoughts, worming their way through your scattered memories.

No point in lying.

“Y-Yes,” you hear yourself say. Much like earlier, it isn’t until the moment you’ve confirmed it aloud that you know it to be true. You danced with someone else. You flirted with him. You let him touch you… kiss you. “I… I’m so sorry, Wanda; I-I don’t know what I was thinking.”

You see the moment Wanda finds it—your memories of the nightclub. Meeting Des at the bar. Flirting with him… Kissing him.

The look on her pretty features goes from bemused to disbelieving to absolutely murderous in zero seconds flat, and the realization hits like a freight train that you’re really in for it now.

Fuck.

“Go to the bedroom,” she snarls, her typically blue-green eyes burning with scarlet light. “Then take off that slutty dress. I want you on the bed, face down, naked. Do you understand?”

Your head is spinning; confusion rears its ugly head in your gut even as every ounce of your being screams at you to just obey—‘cause if you can just do that, the rest of it will start to make sense. (Maybe.) “O-Okay.”

— —

You don’t know how you know the way to Wanda’s bedroom, but you do.

You slip inside a room shrouded in darkness, and no matter how it strains your eyes to look around, you don’t dare turn on the light.

It’s a modestly-sized bedroom with hardwood flooring, fairy lights along one wall, and an adjoining bathroom just opposite the entrance. There’s a tall, wooden dresser pressed up against the wall directly across from a large, king-sized bed. That’s pretty much all the detail you can manage to make out in the darkness.

Well, either way, you suppose it isn’t really your business.

Wanda gave you specific instructions, and you intend to follow them.

Not for the first time tonight, you’re quite happy about the babydoll dress you’re wearing—particularly for how easy it is to pull it up over your head and off, leaving you in panties and a strapless bra in a matter of moments.

You fold the dress neatly in your hands, then leave it atop the dresser. Your panties and bra come next. In seconds, you’ve formed a small, tidy pile.

As you step out of your heels and approach the neatly-made bed, you’re struck with the strangest sense of déjà vu… like you’ve done this before.

It lingers in the forefront of your mind as you crawl up onto the bed, biting back a groan at how easily the plush mattress gives way under your hands and knees.

God, you’d kill to have a nice nap in this absolute cloud of a bed.

You shake the thought off, simultaneously willing the haze of intoxication fogging up your brain to abate.

You’re not here to nap.

You settle face-down onto the bed, just like Wanda said. You’re careful not to rest your face on the pillows, though, since you have the distinct feeling that’s not something Wanda would want you doing without permission.

Instead, you fold your arms and rest your head atop your forearm, staring straight down into nothing. You scrunch up your features and let out a quiet huff as the black duvet tickles the tip of your nose.

It smells like her—all of it does. Cinnamon, vanilla, and something indefinable; something that belongs to Wanda, and Wanda alone.

You feel your body stiffen as a familiar set of footsteps draw near, approaching the room where you lie—naked and vulnerable atop Wanda’s bed.

The patter of Wanda’s gait becomes almost soundless as she enters, circling around the bed over towards the nightstand. You don’t dare to turn your head and watch as she pulls out one of the drawers, rummaging through it until she finds… well, whatever it is she’s looking for, you suppose.

A moment later, there’s the telltale chk! of a match being struck, and a hiss as the phosphorous tip lights itself aflame.

It’s quiet for a minute... then two. The only sounds you can hear are your breathing and the strike of a match every time Wanda lights another.

Gradually, gentle flares of light grow in your periphery, bathing the room in a dim, yellow-y glow. She’s lighting candles—a lot of them.

You’ve always loved candles.

A couple minutes later, she’s finished, and she returns to tuck the matchbox safely back in the drawer.

You lose track of her as she retreats once more, and your mounting curiosity is more than piqued when you hear her rummaging through the dresser near the foot of the bed; still, you don’t dare turn and look.

Instead, you wait, fetid nausea churning low in your gut, pinpricks of apprehension dancing across every inch of exposed skin. Your heart thuds painfully against your ribcage as she takes something out from the dresser drawer, then shuts it with an audible thud!

You swallow the lump in your throat and urge yourself to focus on your breathing.

In, out.

In… out.

“I’m disappointed in you, Y/N,” Wanda’s voice comes from somewhere behind you, genuine hurt coloring her hushed tone.

You have to fight the urge to shudder as a chill runs down your spine. “I… I’m sorry, Wanda,” you say meekly, pathetically, cheeks hot with shame.

And the worst part? You’re not lying.

You listen carefully for the sounds of her bare feet padding across the floor as she circles the bed once more, crouching down right beside you in the very corner of your periphery.

“Look at me,” she orders, gentle yet firm.

You do.

The moment you meet her gaze, you can’t help the errant thought entering your mind that she looks so pretty like this—face bare of makeup; long brown hair piled into a messy bun atop her head; dainty features cast into darkened shadows by the low, yellow light of burning candles clustered together atop the nightstand.

The muted light seems to soften her anger, her pain… allowing her to really look her age for the very first time since you’ve known her.

“You think too loudly, Y/N.” Wanda’s words are dry, almost teasing as they jolt you back into reality. “Focus on me, please.”

You do.

“You belong to me,” she asserts after a beat of silence, an uncharacteristically intent and almost solemn look splayed across her dimly-lit features. “I thought you understood that.”

The words confuse you even as they seem to resonate poignantly with some fundamental part of you… a part of you that categorically refuses to be ignored.

“Wanda…” you trail off, bewilderment and contrition warring violently within your chest until it aches to draw breath. “I’m confused, Wanda,” you whimper out finally, overwhelmed tears burning in your eyes. “I-I-I don’t understand what’s happening—”

Wanda cuts you off with a derisive snort. “Yes, clearly,” she agrees, her tone ripe with sardonic ire. “You’ve forgotten yourself. You’ve forgotten who owns you.”

You worry your lower lip between your teeth, desperately trying to make sense of it all. “Is that why…” You search Wanda’s eyes intently. “... I-I felt sick, an-and… guilty about dancing with Des.”

Something like anger flares in her gaze, hot and bitter, and you have to resist the urge to shrivel beneath it. “That boy had no right to touch what’s rightfully mine.”

“B-But then… why didn’t I remember?” you ask, utterly forlorn. “I-I felt it last weekend, too, but I… I didn’t—”

“Last weekend?” Wanda repeats, features hardening.

Oh, shit. You feel your cheeks get hot again. “I… I shouldn’t have brought it up, Wan’, I’m sorry—”

“What happened last weekend?” she interjects, her tone cold and hard like a double-edged blade. “You can tell me yourself, or I can start looking.”

You shiver. “I… I went on a-a… a date with a girl that I met online,” you admit, tears welling in your eyes even as Wanda’s jaw visibly tightens. “I-It was just the one time! A-And nothing happened; we didn’t even k-kiss! I just… I didn’t… I didn’t know—”

“Yes. You’re right; you didn’t know.” Wanda stands abruptly, then, and it’s at that moment that you see the folded belt in her hands—thick, worn leather with a sterling silver buckle.

An icy sense of dread blossoms in your chest, chilling you from the inside out.

Is she going to—?

“I was indulgent before… I let you get away with far too much. I will not make the same mistake again.”

With that, she turns to circle back around the bed, the belt buckle audibly jangling in her hands with every step.

“I have to punish you, принцеса,” she continues, her voice scarcely more than a whisper as she comes to stand near the foot of the bed—and somehow, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that there’s no convincing her otherwise.

She’s going to punish you, and it’s going to hurt. Bad.

All at once, panic seizes you. You squirm, writhing in an effort to get up and off the bed—

Only to be stopped by tendrils of lurid crimson curling around either wrist, forcing them together just over your head like magic—glowing crimson cuffs holding both arms fast to the headboard. On a whim, you test your legs—tensing and pulling, only to be met with iron-clad resistance encircling either ankle in a tight, unrelenting grip.

Well, fuck.

“W-Wanda,” you plead, hardly paying any mind to the way your voice trembles. “Please, I—I don’t want—”

“I do not enjoy punishing you, мила,” she laments, almost sounding genuinely apologetic. It tugs at your heartstrings in a curious way—something you really don’t have time to examine right now. “But you did something bad. And when you do bad things, there are consequences. You understand that, don’t you?”

A tear trickles down your cheek, warm and wet as you steel yourself for the first hit. “Y-Yes.”

“Good girl,” Wanda lauds, and you can’t help the surge of warmth that washes over you at the simple praise—the pride that blooms in your chest at knowing you’ve finally done something right. “Now—try and relax, принцеса, okay?”

It’s all the warning you get before the first blow comes down upon your bare arse with a resounding Crack!

White-hot pain flares across your bottom, racing up your spine like wildfire and tearing a strangled whimper from your throat.

Jesus fucking Christ, that hurt—

Crack!

Holy fuck.

The impact of the leather against your naked cheeks leaves strips of fire burning in its wake, expelling all the air from your lungs in a choked-out rush.

“P-Please, no, Wan’,” you beg breathlessly, struggling in vain even as coils of vibrant scarlet hold you fast, “it hurts, please—”

Crack!

“This is for your own good, baby,” Wanda coos, sounding for all the world as though she truly believes every word of it.

Crack! This one lands directly across your sit spot, ripping a shriek from your lips as molten agony rocks you to your core.

“Wan’—Fuck, please, no—”

Crack!

“G—God, fuck, pleasestop, please—”

Crack!

“P—Please, hurtssobad, I’m—”

Crack!

“FUCK !”

Tears stream down your cheeks, wetting the black duvet beneath your face. You’re absolutely beside yourself with torment, your bare ass aflame with a pain unlike any you’ve ever known.

Crack!

… And the hits just keep coming—raining down stripes of blistering heat across your sore, bruised buttocks; pummeling your throbbing, exposed rear until it feels as though the entire area has just become one puffy, pulsating bruise.

Crack!

All the fight has completely gone out of you; now, your body completely slack—devoid of any resistance even as every hit seems to sear itself into your impossibly tender bottom like a third-degree burn… The pain is absolutely incredible, unlike any else you’ve ever known.

You’ll do anything—and you really do mean anything—to make it stop.

“P-P-Please, stop it, Wanda, PLEASE—”

Crack! Another hit directly across your burning sit spot rips a watery sob from your throat, followed by—

Crack!

It’s all you can do to keep yourself from hyperventilating until you pass out.

Crack!

Agony blackens the edge of your vision, fresh tears streaking down your cheeks as you await another strike…

But it doesn’t come.

Wh—?

“Have you learned your lesson, мила?” Wanda asks, and this time, her voice comes from closer… like she’s right beside you.

You don’t have it in you to be startled when a feather-light kiss lands itself between your shoulder blades, nor when one hand begins stroking up and down your heaving torso in soothing motions.

“Y-Yes! I—please, God, yes,” you babble, overwhelmed by the sensation of unadulterated pain branding every inch of your battered arse. “I promise I’ll never, ever, ever do it again, Wan’—Won’t ever be with anyone else—jus-just please stop hurting me—I’ll be so good, please—”

“Shh,” Wanda shushes you tenderly. You feel yourself twitch as the mattress suddenly dips beside you. “It’s okay, любима,” she soothes, coming to rest beside you. “Just breathe, okay? Breathe.”

‘Breathe’...

Your pulse thunders in your ears; your ass is on fire with an anguish far beyond your years; and yet, there’s something undoubtedly soothing about her words as they wash over you in gentle waves… something that tells you you’re safe.

Were you a little more lucid, you might’ve found that quite the nonsensical paradox—this feeling of safety and security with the woman who’d just beaten your arse raw without mercy no matter how you wailed and sobbed and begged for her to stop.

But as it is, you’re not.

Instead, you’re just broken and teary-eyed and in pain, and Wanda’s tenderness is a most welcome respite to alleviate that excruciating ache.

You take a deep, shuddering breath, even if it burns your lungs something awful, and force yourself to let it out slowly.

In, out.

In… out.

“That’s it, мила,” Wanda praises gently, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “You’re doing so well… Just like that.” Her fingers come to rest beneath your chin, urging you to turn and face her…

And you do, far too exhausted to even think of doing anything other than what she tells you to. Your lungs burn; your nose runs; and the pain in your bottom hasn’t abated any—if anything, it’s intensified.

You’re more than happy to be given something else to focus on.

When you look at her, her blue-green eyes are wet—glossy with tears.

“Wanda?” you manage weakly, feeling your brow crease with worry. “You ‘kay?”

Wanda sniffles, huffs out a watery-sounding laugh. “Yes, Y/N, I’m alright,” she whispers, then leans forth to plant a gentle kiss upon the tip of your nose. “I’m just so very, very proud of you.”

Despite yourself, you feel a pleased flush spread throughout your body at that. “Really?” you mumble, exhaustion drooping your eyelids until it’s a challenge just to keep them open.

Wanda nods, a tear sliding out of her eye that you yearn to reach forth and catch with your thumb—but alas, you’re far too weak. “Really.”

You hum, burrowing your face further into the duvet beneath your cheek—even if it is still damp with your tears. “‘M sorry I was bad, Wan’,” you murmur, feeling darkness near on every side. “Didn’t mean’ta make you upset.”

“I don’t like punishing you, принцеса,” she says once more, and this time, you have no reason to doubt that she means it. Honestly, you don’t know how you ever could. “It hurts me just as much as it hurts you.”

You hum again. Your eyelids feel too heavy to open. “‘M sorry,” you say. “Gonna do better… make you proud… I promise.”

Wanda chuckles. The sound of it makes your chest feel loose and warm and happy. “You already do, darling girl,” she murmurs. You don’t know if it’s because she’s whispering, or you’re fading into sleep, but you can barely hear her when she repeats it once more: “You already do.”

Sleep descends upon you, then, and you succumb to it willingly, feeling safer and more at peace than you have in a very long time.

— —

tagging:

[marvel]: @normanijauregui

— —

end notes: yeah i don’t know what this is either. i was only aiming for maybe 1,000 words or something, but things happened and...

look. i haven’t been to therapy in a hot minute, ok?

link to masterlist

#stuff i wrote #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x f!reader #f!reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maximoff x f!reader #dark fic #mcu fic #marvel fic #scarlet witch x reader #dark!scarlet witch x reader #dark!scarlet witch #reader-insert #requested

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oh-hush-its-perfect · 3 years

Note

do you think there is any significance that alex's colour scheme is green and pink? or do you think rr went "u know what this character needs? to look like a watermelon"

((Prefacing this by saying that I'm giving RR way too much credit here, but you shouldn't take anything an author does for granted— even a serial author who often makes blunders and mistakes.))

A while ago I saw a (pretty unfair) assumption that RR made it green and pink because blue and pink would be too obvious, but that his intention was obviously to reinforce the gender binary by using two distinctly gendered colors for a character with two distinct genders. Of course, they did not phrase it so delicately. No offense to whoever made that post, but I disagree.

Although that may have had to do with it, there's other things to consider. One of them is color symbolism. And oh. OH. I ADORE symbolism— especially flower/plant symbolism (Language of the Flowers and all that jazz), seasonal symbolism (there's a reason that evermore is my second favorite Taylor Swift album), and color symbolism.

GREEN

Let's talk about green first. Green can symbolize a lot of different things, and there are a few that can be applied to Alex's character. The most obvious thing that green often represents is jealousy— hence the expression "green with envy." But envy is not really one of Alex's character traits. Feel free to argue with me if you think that Alex is significantly envious. Just because I couldn't think of substantial textual evidence for it does not mean that there isn't any.

One of the traits that Alex does have is wealth. Green is the color of American currency, and since both RR and Alex are American, it's safe to take an American lens while looking at this color. Alex's socioeconomic background effects her in a big way. I mentioned in a previous post that I think that Alex's fatal flaw is her sense of entitlement. That kind of entitlement is a quality not exclusive to but common among the upper class. However, her distance from her wealthy background enhances the sense of irony in the story, which is a VERY big thing that we NEVER talk about within the fandom.

This is kind of a little thing, but it's worth noting that when it comes to Valhalla and everything, Alex is "green"— as in new and inexperienced.

The color green also emphasizes Alex's connection with nature. This is one of the parts of Alex's character that the fandom consistently underplays, which is an absolute shame. I don't think I have to explain why the color green is associated with all things natural. Alex's association with nature provides a few key things to her character:

It makes her a more well-rounded character. Another criticism of Alex I believe is totally unfounded is that "being genderfluid is her only personality trait because it influences her philosophy on pottery, which is her only hobby." I'm probably going to make another post in, like, a few minutes about why I find that argument a little silly, but the primary problem is that pottery is not Alex's only hobby. She also loves camping, hiking, and ice wall climbing (I bet y'all forgot about that last one!)

It gives her a connection with Magnus. I mentioned in a previous post that Magnus and Alex are foils, but I neglected to bring up why that also makes for very good chemistry between them. Of course, yes, they have different goals and philosophy, which is what makes them foils in the first place. But foil relationships function best when the characters also share some traits. As it turns out, Alex and Magnus share several hobbies, and one of them is a mutual love for nature. This is a very unexplored thing in fics. Start doing it more plz.

Finally, and this one's kind of minor, but the Alex's green gives her a connection to Natalie. I know, whenever Alex and Natalie are compared, either in canon or in fandom, everybody kind goes "eww. Oedipus complex." Which is very fair and true. But they really do have a lot of similarites. The green of Alex's hair and clothes connects her to the green of Natalie's eyes. It's worth saying, too, that Alex has one amber eye— and amber is pretty close to dirty blonde, like Natalie's hair.

If I had more faith in RR, I might bring up the concept of intextuality and how Alex wearing green is an allusion to The Great Gatsby and how Alex is elusive to Magnus, just like Daisy is to Gatsby. But I don't.

PINK

To give credit to the person who wrote the post I mentioned at the beginning of this spiel, I do believe that part of the reason pink was used was to support femininity. Please keep in mind that Alex dresses in an androgynous way— not that there is an actually "gendered" way to dress, since gender as we perceive it is mostly made up. But Alex's existence as a transfemme person (which I will maintain until my dying day) means that pink has a certain significance to her. A lot of AMAB people embrace traditionally feminine things because if they don't, they will not be accepted as genuine women or genuine nonbinary folks, since masculine dress is unisex and kind of the default. So Alex wearing pink probably had something to do with her gender, yes. But that's not necessarily a bad thing, and it's certainly not an unrealistic thing.

Speaking of Alex's gender in relation to the color pink, let's talk about pink's use as a queer rights symbol. Alex was RR's first character to be introduced as a queer character from the start. This was not an insignificant thing, especially in the year of our Lord 2016 (which, despite popular belief, seriously had an entirely different landscape of queer rep. Though it's commonplace now to include genderqueer characters, it was exceptional at the time— especially by such an accomplished and mainstream children's author.).

Let's go back in time to Nazi Germany. Some of you might know this, but for those of you don't this transition must seem jarring. I swear there's a point. In addition to Jews, Romani individuals, people with disabilities, and Poles (among others), gay men were victimized by the Nazis. If you're wondering why lesbians weren't persecuted, it's because the Nazis didn't see them as a serious political threat, or as a threat to the perpetuation of the Aryan race since they assumed gay women could be forcefully impregnated if need be. Yeah, ew. Anyway, much like the Star of David being used to mark Jewish people, gay men were forced into concentration camps and forced to wear a pink triangle. Years later, after the gay population somewhat recovered, the pink triangle was reclaimed and used as a symbol for gay men. Some people who were not gay men used it, too, but that's somewhat controversial since it wasn't their symbol to reclaim. When the first pride flag was created, it had a pink stripe at the top to signify sex (this was later dropped so flags could be more easily produced). The pink triangle (inverted) was used during the AIDs epidemic with the caption "Silence=Death."

My point is that this is a very important color to queer folks. Having one of the first genderfluid characters in kid's lit wear pink...... I mean, it makes sense.

The last and final thing that pink represents, in this context and in general, is innocence. Granted, this kind of connects to feminitity since women (especially white women) are often infantalized and seen as innocent— which is another issue. In any case, the use of pink to represent innocence in Alex's dress is ironic. Alex has been robbed of her childhood innocence, first by her abusive parents, then by her life on the streets, and then by her eventual death at age sixteen. But then she actually regains her innocence. At the beginning of the—

Hold on. I just had a revelation. I'll make a post about it soon.

At the beginning of SotD, Alex is acting a little childish. The most obvious example is him jumping on Randolph's bed to "make noise." Alex's life is stable and relatively healthy for the first time in the years, and she experiences something that a lot of queer folks experience: a re-emergence of childhood at a late stage.

I imagine you didn't expect a post this long. I either make essay responses to asks or I add on one sentence and post it. Oops. Anyway, I believe the mcga fandom can be more creative than calling Alex a watermelon. Here are some other (kinda romantic) pink-and-green alternatives:

Roses

Dragonfruit

Grapefruit

Cherry blossom trees

#mcga #magnus chase #alex fierro #mcatgoa #magnus chase and the gods of asgard #sorry for the long response lol #thanks for the ask! I had a go of it!

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fonulyn · 3 years

Note

So my partner is amazing and let's me ramble about RE to them whenever I want to, and even sat down to watch Vendetta with me when I bought it, so the other day I was like explaining Leon and Chris' characters (bc my partner knows how much I love them both lmao so of course that's what I was talking about), and we have both come to the conclusion that Leon is a bisexual disaster, and Chris is a homosexual. The running joke is that Leon is also just generally a whore, out there living his best life, and Chris is the kind of gay guy who no one expects to be gay bc of stereotypes and his habit of never really talking about himself, but he also was never really in the closet about it, so he's surprised whenever people are surprised to learn that he's gay lolol but in all seriousness Leon is not only bisexual, but he's the type to fall in love easily despite all of his background and trauma related to betrayal, so his heart is almost continually broken, either bc he's betrayed or he loses whoever it is he's found himself in love with (and sometimes both i.e. Krauser, and Ada at the end of RE2), either through death or just leaving bc he knows he can't stay/can't be with whomever. As for Chris, maybe I'm reading into it wrong, but despite all of the like, romantic connotations they try to put into some of his games (which I don't. Really see? Like there was some in the first game with Jill but I just cannot see them together like that, neither seem interested in one another like that. And of course, Jessica, who I can't stand, and who Chris is supposedly totally oblivious to? Like she thinks he didn't notice her flirting in RE revelations, and Parker is like "is it that, or is he maybe interested in someone else?" And the assumption there is that he means Jill, but again, I don't see it? Even in that game! But that line of Parker's always makes me think "yeah, he's more than just interested in someone else, he's playing for a whole nother team entirely!" lmao. And I haven't seen much for 5 but I'm sure it's there between Chris and Sheva, and then for 6 from what I understand there really is hardly any talk of Chris in regards to any women at all? 8 has nothing, as well, and the DLC for 7 is just another "Chris loses his entire team in horrific fashion yet again" side plot, so nothing there either), he never seems interested. He's always focused on the task at hand, not letting emotions get in his way, and like, some could argue that that's why he doesn't show interest or why Capcom doesn't create more romantic lore around him, but if they really wanted to Make Sure he was straight and Make Sure everyone playing these games knew that, I imagine there would be some one line little hints in the games of him talking about how he can't let himself get distracted, or in his line of work there are no happy endings or what have you, but. There's none of that. Bc he isn't forcing himself not to be interested, he isn't purposefully focusing on saving the day so he doesn't have to get hurt knowing he can never have whichever high potential for a dope ass protag female character who's constantly sacrificing herself to save him bc what better purpose could they serve, right Capcom?, he's just. There, doing his job and trying to save whoever he can, not getting distracted in anyway whatsoever by any of the women in his life, romantically at least. He still cares way too much, but it never comes off as romantic to me in pretty much any way. Also the note he leaves in his STARS locker in RE2remake, Claire being like "this doesn't sound like Chris at all!" Is funny to me bc like, I don't really remember so correct me if I'm wrong, but she doesn't elaborate on WHY that note doesn't sound like Chris lmao is it bc he's respectful to women at all times and doesn't ever objectify them, probably hates when other people do? Or is it bc he would never be interested in women in this way ANYWAYS, the man is so gay, he must have left this note so that Claire would know something is Up, bc her brother is Such a homosexual.

Anyways sorry, I just wanted to ramble/get your opinion on this. Over-analysing RE is actually really fun lmao

haha not gonna lie, I opened your ask in the car on the grocery store parking lot and tried to read it on my phone, and gave up squinting at the small screen halfway through :'D now that I'm back at my laptop though, lol, all good :'D

first of all I'm happy you have someone to ramble to even though they aren't into the thing themselves! :D I regularly rant about RE fandom things to my brother haha and he listens patiently although he isn't in the fandom at all, he's only played the games and that's it. but he still listens to my shippy rambles lol.

as for your thoughts? makes sense to me tbh. I definitely headcanon Leon as a bisexual disaster most of the time, because it does seem fitting. maybe it's partly because I think he's absolutely breathtakingly stunning and it'd be a shame to deny anyone that, so, naturally he wouldn't care about such trivial things as gender, pfth, love is love.

also Leon falling in love easily? absolutely. too damn easily. c'mon this is a man who gets attached to anyone who shows him even the tiniest amount of basic kindness in the matter of minutes. he canonically forms attachments with Claire, Ada, Krauser, Helena, Buddy and JD (JD 😭)... whoever else am I forgetting? but this is the guy who meets someone and would die for them five seconds later. so. it tracks.

and you know what, I can 100% see Chris being only into men. because like. I don't see the romance there either when he's interacting with the women in his life? okay, sure, I could imagine something there between him and Jill if pressed seeing the way he so single-mindedly wants to save her and then holds her in the scene after they get that thing off her chest. maybe. but even there it doesn't really feel super romantic to me, personally.

in the first game with Jill there's not... a lot of romance I don't think? sure she falls asleep against his shoulder in the evac helicopter but i mean, i've fallen asleep against a friend like that? not an indication of romance? they're clearly important to each other! i am not trying to diminish their importance to one another at all! they'd die for each other and they'd do anything it takes to protect each other and i do think their relationship is compelling but... i don't really see anything inherently romantic in it.

and Jessica, yeah, Chris is 100% oblivious to her advances. it is implied in the game that he's into Jill instead but other than that there's again zero actual romantic interaction between Chris and Jill. I was actually talking about this with my brother, who said the same, like there were so many chances in Revelations to put something romantic in there between Chris and Jill but there just. isn't? anything? except for Parker's comment. which is why it felt so damn out of place? (and like my brother would've wanted to ship Chris and Jill, he was kinda bummed about this i feel :'D) so interpreting it to mean he's not interested in women at all would actually make more sense lmao.

as for RE5, I've played it twice (with my brother lmao do we see a theme here) and honestly I don't remember anything in the game that would've insinuated anything more than solid partnership between Chris and Sheva?? if someone who's more familiar with the game wants to correct me on this, then please! but at least off the bat I can not remember anything so I think they actually didn't try to even hint at romance for them?

and in RE6 Chris is way too focused on killing "Ada" to have any thoughts about anything else :'D so no. no mentions in there regarding him and any women. at all. not even hints of Jill which is so incredibly weird (and stupid tbh) bc she was made to be so important to him in RE5 and then doesn't even get a mention in RE6? (/shakes fist damn you capcom! the characters exist outside the games they're in!)

I think that's pretty much the main difference between Chris and Leon tbh. Chris sees the job at hand, and he knows it'll help, he knows it'll save people and it'll make the world safer and he's so single-mindedly focused on the job that he sees nothing else. while Leon sees people, for the better or for worse, and he is willing to take detours if it helps even one person in the meantime. like in RE6, Leon willingly ignores the task at hand to go help just about anyone. Chris doesn't want to pause even when pressed bc he has an end goal in mind.

and bear in mind, I am not trying to say this somehow makes Leon better or Chris better or anything. they're both doing this to help. they both have their heart in the right place. they both care. but they're just so different! their personalities, and their way of dealing with things is different! I feel Chris is really target oriented and wants to get the job done. while Leon's easily distracted from it, because of all the damn feelings :'D

but yeah. i love them both, and i think it's really damn fascinating how they're both the good guys, the heroes of the franchise, but they both take to things so differently.

i don't know if any of this makes sense, I think i rambled too :'D but hey-o, it was fun lmao.

and hey no need to apologize at all!! always feel free to shoot me a message if you wanna chat!

#re answers #anonymous #ask and i shall answer #chris redfield #leon s kennedy #also i know #this is all headcanoning and my subjective opinion #so feel free to disagree #on anything :3 #and everything lmao :'D #long post

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soukokuwu · 4 years

Note

So what do you think about the boys having a populair artist s/o but she is under a artist name and never shows herself to public that means no one knows who she is, but that means she has a few stalker who wants to find out.. Would you like to write headcanons for dazai, chuuya, fyodor and possible atsushi with these kind of s/o? (Gender neutral or Female please)

➤ ah so like, an artist with no face & an alias? that’s what imma make her. if i get it wrong feel free to correct me anony heh hope you like these!! ^.^ fyodor, atsushi and chuuya under the cut~

fem!s/o who’s a popular artist

probably knows about the stalker before you do. his belladonna deserves the best protection from dazai after all. he’s so proud of you that he regularly checks forums during work to see what people are saying about you.

gets amused when he sees a potential stalker, asking for your address and revealing possible social media handles that could be yours. it’s easy for dazai to find out who it is of course, simple enough to trace the IP address. also way too effortless for him to show up in front of said stalker while he’s eating in a random diner and to warn him not to probe any further. consequences can be deadly, after all.

knows that there are still other people who would do harm to his precious belladonna, so he feels the need to remind you to watch out and take care of yourself, making sure you don’t go home alone, that you at least have an escort if work gets too late and dazai can’t be there.

all in all he won’t fret too much (or at least won’t show it to you), but he’ll still do what he can to at least monitor the situation. and if anybody even tries to remotely figure out your identity or mentions anything lewd, he’ll make sure to take care of them himself. nothing a little exchange couldn’t help.

doesn’t hover much about your job and its risks (who is he to talk about risky jobs anyway) — not until he notices something in the mail from you that looks a little disturbing, with lipstick marks decorating the envelope.

hurriedly confronts you about it; he’s so concerned, but also doesn’t want to invade your privacy by reading your letters. he knows you’d never do anything wrong to him so he’s not worried about it being anything borne out of unfaithfulness.

sees the uneasiness in your face as you read the contents and grabs it out of your hands. one skim and he can tell that it’s from a stalker. they actually found out where you live? but he can help with that — immediately installs a camera at the door and alarms in all entrances. better safe than sorry.

tries to make you consider quitting your job, he’s loaded enough to be able to take care of the both of you for your whole lives anyway. but once he sees how passionate you are about your job and how you want something of your own, he backs down. with the condition that you allow him to protect you of course, a promise to let him know about anything pertaining to potential stalkers. he’ll dispose of them if they get too close to hurt his princess — he keeps this part from you of course.

poor weretiger is so afraid for your safety once he hears that you may have stalkers; after all, you did rush to his house one night thinking somebody’s been tailing you. his tiger senses tell him there has been, but they’re long gone now.

takes it upon himself to walk you home when you work late in the studio. he won’t let you feel unease anymore, or let anyone come near you, not if he can help it — who knows what weird thing that stalker has in mind?

thinks the only option is for you to have him on speed dial in case anything is wrong. he has assigned the most obnoxiously loud ringtone to your number so he’d know whenever you called, and he’d rush to your aid.

is still very supportive of you expanding your fanbase because he absolutely loves what you put out. he does realise this means more stalkers, but he’ll cross that bridge when it gets there. atsushi would just make sure to do whatever he can if any situation should arise. if nothing, then even better.

also would know of the stalker before you do. like a sixth sense of sorts. if he catches anyone online trying to find out who you are? he is just mildly entertained. if they actually come close? he’ll make sure to scare them away — he has his methods. best of all is he barely has to leave the home.

wants you to pursue your passion without worries, so he tries to keep this piece of news away from your ears. knowing you, he knows you’ll feel guilty for giving him more work on top of his own plans. so he either keeps you away from the internet or he disposes of the worrisome content before you can see it.

doesn’t go to them — he waits for them to come to you. but he won’t let them come close to you, no. fyodor lets them think that they’re close, before he sweeps all hope away from them and warns them never to pull this stunt again, or he’ll be forced to use his ability. they’re normal civilians — the mere fact he sees this as a game terrifies them enough that they don’t even try to fight back.

the most relaxed and laid-back out of all of them, mainly because he knows that none of them can ever get close to you. his little angel will get to carry out her dreams without any concerns pertaining to stalkers or revelations of her identity. he prefers it to be known only to the select few anyway — it’s more special that way.

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redstarwriting · 4 years

Text

My Light

Stephen Strange x Reader

Request: “Prompt for whenever you want it: the reader is the legal guardian of their sibling's (who died in an accident) toddler and the reader is trying her best at parenting. One day they find out the child has magic abilities, but everything goes tits up because Mordo shows up and tries to take said powers. Cue our favorite sorcerer saving the day. May we have a progression of him and the reader falling for each other? Thanks in advance and feel free to disregard the ask if it is too silly”

Word Count: 1,773

Genre: Fluff | Little Angst

Warnings: swearing, death of a loved one, attempted murder, Mordo in general

A/N: Very sorry for how long this took me to write! Like I said, writer’s block is a bitch. But it’s here now! And the ask was not silly at all! It was very fresh and fun actually. I hope you enjoy it! I write best for Stephen it seems, so hopefully I lived up to your expectations! Also, I made the child gender neutral because why not, you know?

───────────────────────────────────

“Ori. Put. The paintbrush. Down,” you try your best to sound strict, but Ori the two-year-old has other plans. They just painted an entire… emblem, you guess, on the wall of your apartment. Again. You cannot figure out how they keep getting into the locked painting cabinet butt yet here you both are. You just sigh before bending over and picking them up, only to get a paintbrush to the face. “Okay, Ori, now you’ve done it,” you say, a mischievous glint in your eye. Ori looks at you with confusion before you snatch the paintbrush, setting it to the side and gently toss them on your couch and scream, “You’ve unleashed the… Tickle Monster!” You “attack” them, only to be met with happy shrieks and giggles. You’ve discovered this is an easy way to tire them and distract them from what they were just doing. You’re just now getting the hand at this whole… parenting thing. Ori isn’t your biological child, they’re your sister’s. Sadly, she died in a freak accident, leaving little Ori in your care. The worst part is Ori was there when she died. One day when she was cooking, the oven malfunctioned and exploded, catching the entire house on fire. It’s believed that she was killed instantly in the blast, and even though Ori was playing ouutside when it happened, they were still there for the entire incident. Granted, they didn’t understand it, but still. It’s really sad. And you’re trying your hardest to be the absolute best parent for them as you possibly can be.

They just make it so damn hard sometimes.

After your tickle-tack, Ori was worn out. It was about their nap time anyways, so you take them to their “big kid bed” as they just stopped sleeping in a crib, and tuck them in. Of course, you still have a baby monitor in their room to see and hear when they need anything. You go and sit on your couch, reveling in the moment of silence you have while Ori sleeps. Then suddenly, their crying pulls you out of it. You sigh, getting up to go check on them only to realize that when you get to their room, there’s a man in there. And he’s targeting Ori. Oh hell no.

“Who the fuck are you?!” you scream, immediately picking up one of Ori’s wooden blocks and hurling it at the intruder’s head. Good call, (Y/n). That’ll stop him. He doesn’t even catch it, just waves his hand and it deflect back, hitting you directly between the eyes instead. “Ow…” you mumble, rubbing the spot where the block collided with you. “This is none of your concern,” the man says, beginning to move his one hand in a circular motion while holding the other in place in front of him. You hear something behind you and turn around to see an orange glowing circle leading into what looks like the ocean?! What the fuck?! Suddenly, the man runs toward you, and you scream thinking you’re about to get pushed in when suddenly he is literally thrown against the wall beside him.

“Bad,” you hear Ori squeak, and you turn your attention to them only to see their hand out in front of them and… is that magic coming out of their palm? “You made this complicated, young lady,” the man says, standing up again, and you turn your attention to him once more. “W-what-”

“I didn’t want to kill you, but it appears now I must. This child’s real mother interfered when I tried to take their powers the first time. It appears I’ll have to do what I did last time again,” he says, and your blood runs cold. Did this man just admit to murdering your sister? And did he just say he was going to murder you too? You were frozen in place when he started running at you again. This time, though, another portal looking thing appeared and another man stepped into Ori’s room, and the other guy was suddenly frozen mid-run. Max capacity for this room is you and Ori, by the way, so there was a lot going on in a space that did not hold that much. “You gave me quite the chase, Mordo, but it looks like it’s over,” this new guy says, and you break out of your frozen state to run over to Ori and pick them up.

The man named Mordo follows you with his eyes, and you glare at him. The man who saved you walks toward this Mordo character, but before he can do anything, he suddenly breaks out of the trapped state he’s in and starts swinging his staff at him. The guy who saved you and Ori curses under his breath, and suddenly, you’re pushed into a new location with him following. You look around, noticing that you’re somewhere with what looks like a bunch of antiques. “Sorry about that, I figured the best thing to do was flee here instead of completely destroying your place. Besides, I’m not so sure you would be able to handle the mirror realm, so I definitely wasn’t about to take you there. Now, let me explain everything that just happened.”

You blink and the next thing you know, you’re in a chair while Ori is preoccupied with a giant coloring book and multiple crayons. “Your sister’s child possesses a type of raw magical talent, and I’m afraid the man who broke into your home is going around and stealing magic from others who have it. I believe it would be beneficial for you and the child to live here for a period of time until I either apprehend him or Ori is able to defend themselves if needed.” “Uh… wait okay, hold on, what?”

“Well, I was pretty blunt with my explanation but-”

“No, I understood your explanation I’m just a little shocked over the fact that this little thing is magical, that Mordo dick literally murdered my sister, and now you’re telling me it would be beneficial if I moved into this place when I don’t even know who you are or where this place is and I don’t have any of my belongings and-“

“Calm down, (Y/n). I’ve had all your belongings transferred over to here already. My name is Stephen Strange, and I need to teach Ori about their powers before Mordo takes them from them,” Stephen explains, and you just stare at him. “I promise you this is to protect you and Ori. Mordo won’t stop until every sorcerer and sorceress no longer has magic. I can help.”

And that is how you ended up living in the Sanctum Sanctorum with Stephen Strange with Ori. This place was a lot nicer than your tiny two bedroom apartment, and the best part is you didn’t even have to pay rent. Even if you wanted to go to work, Stephen said it would be too much of a risk with the lunatic magic stealer still running around, so you couldn’t even work anymore. You mainly spent your time playing with Ori or walking around, tidying up and reading. Although you weren’t learning magic or anything. No matter how many times Stephen tried to convince you to.

Oh, speaking of Stephen, the two of you really hit it off. So much so that after about three weeks, Ori started calling him “daddy.” Both of you were taken aback by that and frantically tried to explain to them that, no, Stephen was in fact not their dad, but they weren’t having it. Of course, you found the sorcerer very attractive and didn’t necessarily hate the idea of him being Ori’s “dad,” but honestly, he probably didn’t feel the same and it would be so complicated having two magic users in the family are you kidding.

Nonetheless, Stephen did treat Ori like his child as well, which made you two talk even more than usual. After a while, you two knew each other better than anyone else. It started slow, with him just asking how your day was and how Ori liked their new home and such, but eventually faded into him asking how you were, no how you really were don’t give him that fine bullshit, what your favorite foods were, what you thought of his outfit, what you were doing later, all these things.

Of course, this all progressed after a few years. In fact, Ori was now five years old, and you have never met someone who advocated for you to get a significant other more than this kid. You always told them you didn’t have time, and that you would find one when you wanted to. Ori would then bring up the time that Stephen gave you the biggest room in the Sanctum when you got there, and the time that Stephen got you your favorite food because you had a bad day, and that time that Stephen took you out on the anniversary of your sister’s death to distract you from missing her and how he did that literally every year and, yeah. You get the point. Ori wanted you and Stephen to get together. And the damn kid was too smart and remembered literally everything at age 5 maybe you should just stop telling them stuff.

Then one day, Stephen approached you while Ori was busy practicing magic. “May I sit?” he asks, and you grin up at him, nodding. He sits next to you and clears his throat. “Ori has gotten very good, you know,” he says, and you nod. “Yeah. Their magic is really strong. And pretty. Prettier than yours, anyway,” you tease him, and he grins. “Well, that’s what happens when your magic is light based. It’s always a sight to behold.” “Light based?”

“Yes, their magic is unique, and they certainly have a flair for making someone’s day brighter,” he says, and you laugh. “Yeah. Well, I guess their name fits them.”

“Oh?” “Don’t tell me Mr. Sorcerer Supreme I-Am-An-Actual-Doctor-You-Know doesn’t know what Ori means.”

“Looks like I’m stumped.” “Wow. Okay, well Ori quite literally means ‘my light’ in Hebrew. I guess my sister named them well,” you explain, and Stephen nods. “Well, they certainly brought light to my life,” he says, and you grin. “Good, I’m glad. They brought light to mine as well,” you say, staring at them as they practice. You don’t even notice Stephen looking at you until he speaks, “The light they brought me was you, by the way.”

Needless to say, Ori got their wish of you and Stephen getting together.

#avengers x reader #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange x reader #dr strange x reader #marvel x reader #avengers imagine #doctor strange imagine #stephen strange imagine #dr strange imagine #marvel imagine #avengers #doctor strange #stephen strange #dr strange #marvel

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fatesdeepdive · 3 years

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Entry 9: NO

Before doing anything else, I built a lottery house in the castle. The logistics of there being stores and gambling houses within my personal castle, that my soldiers work at, that don’t just give me whatever I want is kinda weird. The lottery gave me a radish I fed to Lilith.

Support: Hana/Subaki

C: Hana confronts Subaki about his tendency to refer to himself as perfect. He brushes it off, because he thinks that he genuinely is completely without fault. This angers Hana, who brings up a time Subaki fell off his horse and challenges him to a duel.

B: The duo begin their competition. Subaki, despite not actually having any sword skills, manages to defeat Hana by studying her fighting style over several months and messing with her head.

A: Hana takes the second round, beating Subaki in a horse race. Hana reveals that she doesn’t actually care about beating Subaki, just about serving Sakura, and the two decide to suspend their competition.

S: Subaki states that he hates when Hana brings up the time he fell off his horse because he embarrassed himself in front of Hana. Also the duo apparently love each other now.

Review: Decent set up, lackluster execution. I do like Hana’s feelings of inferiority in comparison to Subaki, and Subaki is wonderfully arrogant during this line, but the resolution comes from a revelation Hana had off screen and feels anti-climactic. I felt nothing during the marriage conversation.

Support: Hana/Sakura

C: Hana and Sakura discuss their childhood friendship and the fact that Hana has been protecting Sakura since even before she was a retainer. Sakura states that Hana’s stubbornness pairs nicely with her own introversion.

B: Hana reveals that Sakura’s kindness gave her a reason to dedicate herself to becoming a master samurai. Sakura reveals that she chose Hana as her retainer, in spite of her age and objections from others, because of...a reason explained in the next conversation. Gotta love cliffhangers.

A: Sakura chose Hana as her retainer because of all the times she protected her as a kid, so many times that Hana is covered in scars. Sakura feels guilty over Hana’s scars, but Hana brushes it off, stating that her scars are a badge of honor because they were earned protecting Sakura. Small character design note: Hana does not have any visible scars in this game. She does consistently have a scar in her arm in Heroes, and inconsistently has a scar on her left thigh, but neither of those scars are visible in game. Maybe the scars are hidden below her headband?

Review: First off, these two deserve an S-Rank conversation. They have more chemistry than most of the couples in this game. Setting that aside, I enjoy Hana and Sakura inspiring each other to be better. I love the idea of Hana protecting Sakura from feral dogs and Sakura repaying her by making her a retainer, going against royal officials to do so.

Support: Sakura/Subaki

C: Subaki yawns in front of Sakura then pretends it didn’t happen, because he is too perfect to get fatigued.

B: Subaki makes a tiny slip-up when filling out a form and has a complete meltdown, launching into a self-depreciating rant. Hana brings up that she’s seen him make mistakes before, which only makes things worse.

A: Sakura comforts Subaki and he reveals that his obsession with perfection stems from his childhood; his parents hammered in the idea that he must be perfect at all times as to not embarrass himself in front of royalty. He brings up the time he fell off his horse in front of Sakura right before she chose him as a retainer and reveals that he’s thought for years she chose him out of pity. Sakura comforts him, saying that he’s amazing and his slip-ups only make him more charming.

S: Subaki renews his vows as a retainer, promising to always fight for Sakura even if he cannot achieve total perfection. Sakura accepts, on the condition that Subaki marries her.

Review: I actually really enjoyed this one. The main gag with Subaki is that he’s arrogant and thinks of himself as perfect. This line deconstructs that, showing him fall apart at the idea that he isn’t good enough. It didn’t go fully into it, but this line suggests that Subaki may have some real mental health issues, possibly stemming from an abusive childhood. The romance isn’t perfect, but I do like the idea of Subaki ending up with Sakura because she helps him learn to accept himself. Also for all of Sakura’s supports I’m going to pretend that she isn’t like fourteen, because otherwise they’re all super creepy.

Support: Corrin/Sakura

C: Corrin asks if Sakura dislikes her and Sakura, who has never once visited any Fire Emblem or Smash Brothers forum, states that no one could ever dislike Corrin. Apparently, Sakura is awkward and shy around Corrin because she sucks at talking to people. Corrin offers to help her practice talking.

B: Corrin asks Sakura some basic questions and Sakura freezes up from anxiety and can’t answer anyone. Corrin theorizes that Sakura is easily intimidated by other people.

A: Sakura reveals that she’s always so anxious because she heard a rumor that Nohr actually wanted to kidnap her, not Nohr. This rumor was evidently false, because it makes absolutely no sense from a lore perspective. Also, I question the idea that this is the source of all of Sakura’s anxiety. Her anxiety around Corrin, maybe, but it’s odd that guilt over her sister’s kidnapping that she’s known for years wasn’t her fault would make her anxious around other people. I mean, it’s more pronounced around Corrin, but only in this support line. Whatever. Corrin swears to protect Sakura and I guess that means her anxiety is cured.

Review: This conversation is mediocre. Sakura getting anxiety because of something a maid said once is stupid, but Corrin trying to help her get over it is okay.

You’ll notice that I stopped this at the A rank. Well, you see, Corrin and Sakura only have three, conversations instead of four because, despite Corrin having a variable gender, Corrin and Sakura are siblings and Intelligent Systems would never include incest in a Fire Emblem game. They’d never do that because that would be terrible.

Wait. What’s that? Why does it say on the wiki that they have an S-Conversation? Surely this isn’t real.

Oh god it’s real.

No.

No no no.

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO.

What the fuck, Intelligent Systems? Why did you include incestuous pedophilic marriage in your role-playing game? Seriously, what the actual fuck?

And, looking at Corrin’s support list, it’s not just Sakura. Every single Nohr and Hoshidan royal can date Corrin. I don’t know what’s worse, Corrin having sex with her stranger blood siblings or having sex with the people she thought were her blood siblings for years. Fine. Let’s just do the stupid conversation.

S: Sakura reveals that she’s been dreaming about the sibling she never knew for years, imagining what Corrin would grow up to be like. It’s actually a decent idea, albeit one hidden in the evil cursed S-Support that I hate. Corrin asks if they live up to expectations and Sakura states that they exceed them. Then Sakura says that she loves Corrin. Romantically. Corrin, being the sane person, objects, pointing out that they’re half-siblings. I don’t know where this half-sibling thing came from, as far as Corrin knows both of them are the children of Mikoto and Sumeragi. I mean, it is stated in Revelations that Mikoto isn’t actually the mother of anyone but Corrin, but Corrin doesn’t know that yet. Whatever. Sakura pulls out a letter from Mikoto that she only read a few minutes ago that says, psych! Corrin and Sakura aren’t actually related. At all. So it’s cool to bang. Corrin instantly gets over the whole “Don’t fuck your little sister” thing immediately and proposes to Sakura. What the actual fuck.

Review Continued: If ninety percent of the S-Rank conversation is convincing the audience that, no, this isn’t incest, you know it’s bad. And sure, it isn’t technically incest anymore, but who cares? Corrin and Sakura didn’t know that until ten seconds before they screwed each other. This is an incestuous marriage and it’s fucking gross. The writers clearly know it was gross, but they included it anyway.

And here’s the big problem with the Hoshidan sibling marriages: Birthright is built on the premise that this is Corrin’s real family, that Hoshido is her real home. It’s literally called Birthright. But if Corrin isn’t actually related to the Hoshidan Royals, all of that falls apart. They’re just strangers. The whole concept of the game doesn’t apply anymore. Because Intelligent Systems couldn’t release a game where the player insert doesn’t fuck literally every character. And, until we get to the point in Revelations where that is properly revealed, I’m going to pretend I don’t know it.

We got some new characters at the end of the last chapter, so let’s talk about them.

Silas

Silas is a cavalier who went turncloak for Corrin at the end of the last chapter because of a childhood friendship Corrin doesn’t remember. His personal skill makes him fight better when Corrin is injured. I’m starting to notice just how many of these skills specifically relate to Corrin, which makes sense but is still kinda weird. His design is fine, nothing objectionable there. I do think Silas’s forgotten childhood friend backstory is a bit odd, though. And I’m getting sick of characters who are obsessed with Corrin.

Saizo

Saizo is Kaze’s twin brother who looks like twenty years older than him. He’s the slower but tougher of the duo, judging from their stats. His personal skill Pyrotechnics is basically just him blowing shit up, which as far as I’m concerned is his solution to all problems. His mask is really weird looking, but at least he’s visually interesting. Personality wise, he seems like a dick, but in a good way. Our army needs some common sense and he brings it.

Orochi

Real talk: I forgot this character existed until she joined us. Orochi is a mage...er, diviner who has the personal skill Capture, which I’ll talk about later. Her design is decent; I like the sultry hair pulling in her portrait, it gives off a lot of personality. I don’t have much to say, I forgot she existed before the end of last chapter and have no clue what her personality will be.

Birthright Chapter 8: Fierce Winds

Team Corrin travels up the Eternal Staircase, a massive subterranean tunnel that leads to the Wind Tribe Village. Kaze notices that the group is being followed and a group of faceless pop out. Kaze and Corrin slaughter them with ease. Unfortunately, after the battle, the faceless turn into Wind Tribe civilians. Iago appears and explains that he disguised civilians as monsters using magic. He learned it from his favorite movie villain, the Joker from the Dark Knight, who Iago thinks is actually the good guy.

The gang reaches the Wind Tribe village. Corrin decides to just waltz in because sneaking past would be suspicious. Wind Tribe members attack. Not sure how they know about the whole slaughter thing. Maybe one of the fake faceless got away? Whatever.

Our three princesses apologize to the tribe members and they lead us to their chief, Fuga. Then the battle immediately begins. Guess negotiations didn’t go well.

Also here for some reason is Hinoka and her two retainers, Setsuna and Azama, both of whom are absolute morons. But, like, in a good way. Setsuna falls in quicksand, doesn’t care, and Azama immediately declares her dead. The fact that Hinoka has to basically babysit her two idiot bodyguards is amusing.

Setsuna

An Archer that works as Hinoka’s bodyguard. Her personal skill, Optimistic, makes her recover more when healed by a staff. A thing they do a lot in recent Fire Emblem games is to have characters that are based around specific gags or tropes. These are hit or miss, but Setsuna’s gag of constantly endangering herself and just not giving a shit sounds funny. The faced half-covered by hair initially makes her seem cool, but when paired with the dopey face and her personality it makes her look completely distracted. I like Setsuna, from what I’ve seen.

Azama

A monk who seems to be ridiculously optimistic and laid back. His personal skill, Divine Retribution, hurts opponents who attack him when he’s unarmed, which is a really cool idea. Azama doesn’t seem to be quite as funny as Setsuna, but still seems entertaining. I have mixed feelings on his design. I can’t tell if I like the closed eyes or not. The puffballs and wild hair are dumb though.

It’s worth noting that, because we move first, Corrin’s army attacks without provocation. Remember, they can’t see the red labels on enemies.

This map takes place in a desert. We can use the Dragon Veins to make it not a desert, which is good, because Fire Emblem deserts suck. Halfway through the battle, we finally talk to Fuga. He explains that we must earn the right to explain by killing all of his men. Bit of a dick move, chief.

We beat Fuga fairly easily. This chapter was fine, but just fine. Not bad, just unremarkable. Fuga explains that he was friends with Sumeragi and knows a lot about Yato. Apparently, us killing all of his men was a test to make us stronger so we can unlock Yato’s true power. Apparently, Yato can link something called the Sealed Flames and destroy the world. Neat.

Fuga accepts our explanation of the civilian murders. Which makes sense, it was kinda dumb. Actually, wait. Why did that have to be a plot point? Couldn’t this chapter just have been Fuga testing us?

Before we leave, Corrin and Azura discuss that there may be more blades like Yato out there. They don’t ask Fuga, because reasons. Also Fuga gives us his son. Neat.

#fire emblem fates #fe fates #fe 14 #corrin fe #sakura fe #corrin x sakura #setsuna fe #azama fe #subaki fe #sakura x subaki #subaki x hana #hana fe #silas f #saizo fe #orochi fe #fuga fe

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npckingmo · 4 years

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Hi still Losing My Mind over spn. Specifically transwoman sam. More specifically, transfemme nb sam.

I have a playlist I made and I'm like. Holy Shit.

So I think Sam is initially like Oh I'm A Woman so that means that she Has To Be 100% woman. Anything else would mean that's she's not genuine, right? Thinking of herself as the Exception To The Rule that is nb/other queer identities. If she's not Absolutely and One Hundred Percent a woman then she's clearly like. Messed up even more than she thought. Right? Right??

Obviously not from our view, but like. Sam SERIOUSLY second-guessing herself. Thinking she has to perform feminity as is typical in order to be considered a Real Trans Person(tm). But she knows she CANT perform typical feminity--her height and her broad shoulders and everything ELSE she hates about herself--so at first, she thinks she is faking it somehow. It takes a long time before she's comfortable basically changing nothing about herself except some light makeup, long skirts on occasion, growing out her hair, she/her pronouns in-house, etc. Eventually, she's fine with that. It's enough, and shes happier now.

Until Dean realizes he's trans, too.

Dean is...complicated. being wholly seperated from your own personhood leaves him with this sickening disparity between his performed masculinity and his Actual Gender (masc obviously, but performed and Felt are very different). Having Gender Talks around and eventually WITH dean makes them all come to some revelations. (Cas is more or less Unfazed, but very supportive. He has never lived by the binary and doesn't really Get their need to confirm to it, it really doesn't matter That much but if they care, he cares)

Sam is forced to confront some issues about herself through this. Dean is very masc, but with a lot of femme-coded things he enjoys a lot! Nail polish and cooking for the family, the color pink, taylor swift etc etc. Sam...isn't sure how to think. Because once dean starts actually finding gender euphoria and ENJOYING IT, sam starts to realize she could be...happier. Like that. Not holding herself hostage in here own brain for not being The Perfect Woman 100% Of The Time.

So she starts, instead of feeling guilt and self-hate for not conforming to binary womanhood, allowing herself to enjoy the things she Actually Enjoys. And if that looks like an oversized carhartt jacket? Well, who cares!

I want to point out that very little happens externally, here. Sam has already Acted like this for a while, but has never let herself Enjoy things that make her gender euphoric. There's a MONUMENTAL difference in doing something because you feel like you have no other choice, and CHOOSING to do something that you actively enjoy/allowing yourself to enjoy it without self-guilt.

Dean's Trans Revelation really brings her feelings to the forefront and forces her to confront them. Also I think she knows perfectly well that other queer identities exist--the difference is that she never thought that she would "count". That her own gender experiences proved that she was somehow still Wrong, not that she could very simply be nb/gnc AND a woman. (yes I know those aren't interchangeable identities. I just think that those are two things sam has to acknowledge in herself, which is relevant.)

Anyway I love sam and she's amazing. She's also a lesbian and gets married to eileen. She drops the Winchester name. After long talks and introspection, she can finally accept herself and is SO HAPPY!!!!

#shes a gnc nb transfemme lesbian #tbh i think gender fluctuates a lot for Everybody and i think sam is no different #some days she feels WAY more Woman. some days she feels SO nonbinary. it flexes and changes!#her true gender around Eileen is Lesbian tho #anyway im #im Thinking #this is probably worded wrong and i missed being able to talk about MARY in this #but! just. some thoughts.#spn #All The Things She Said by Poppy is playing and im crying a little #i love her sm #trans sam winchester

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samuelsongs · 4 years

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⌠ JEON JUNGKOOK, 22, CISMALE, HE/HIM ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, SAMUEL SONG! according to their records, they’re a THIRD year, specializing in WEAPONS TRAINING/PROTECTION & ENFORCEMENT; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (a hand running through messy hair, an eager wave and toothy grin, various small and friendly tattoos). when it’s the (libra)’s birthday on 10/19/1998, they always request their GUACAMOLE BURGER AND PARMESAN FRIES from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation.

𝙼𝚈 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴

ACCESS: GRANTED FILE NAME: SONG, S.; UNKNOWN LEGACY

Samuel Song grew up for the first half of his life in sunny California-- Silver Lake, LA, to be exact. He would soon discover that he liked to go by Sam, though he’d respect and treasure his Korean name, Hansol, when the time came. He was a bright kid, full of life and joy and eager to do just about anything. He was always the first one to raise his hand in school or volunteer himself to make new friends. His parents loved the fact that their son was so lively and sweet, and that was in part due to their nurturing and loving nature as parents too.

They both worked in tech, very skilled and adept in their field with great jobs that allowed them to take great care of their home and child. As great as they were at their jobs, they never let it get in the way of being good parents, of making sure that their home life was as open and compassionate and understanding as they believed it should be.

He was three years old when his family welcomed a baby girl, and Sam has probably never had a greater happiness than being a big brother to Ingrid. He took care of her from the get-go, looking after her as a toddler, and always watching over her as they aged. While their parents had the money to hire babysitters, which they did, Sam still liked to always be taking care of Ingrid throughout his life, making sure she had everything she needed to be happy, or at least tried his best to.

Sam was the kind of kid that excelled in most things. He tried out for practically every sport there was, his parents supporting him throughout all the different seasons, and joined as many clubs that caught his eye as he could, something his sharp intellect helped with. His school career would see him as a star of the basketball team, student council treasurer, and president of the debate club all in the same semester, every year looking just as crazy as the last. He couldn’t help it, he just loved to be around others, a part of a team, making his mark. All this work would even help him graduate high school a year early.

At ten years old, his parents got an offer from another tech company, an offer they couldn't refuse, and the family relocated to Great Falls, Virginia across the country. The Song family moved in next door to the owners of the tech conglomerate that hired them, Reign Technology, and Ingrid and Sam met their new childhood friend, Régine Ren-- Rei for short. Despite the kids’ different personalities, they all grew up to care for each other, becoming close friends for pretty much the rest of their lives.

Sam adapted very easily to his new life in Virginia, jumping into his new school with just as much vigor as he always had, making himself out to be the ‘fun new kid’ until he was just as much a part of that community as anyone else.

The only thing was, as much as he enjoyed every activity, as good as he was at them, there was never anything that he truly loved, that he thought could carry him for the rest of his life. What he loved was being a part of something, but nothing in particular ever really called to him. He’d watch in the coming years as Ingrid would find her passion, and he’d be her number one fan, but he’d always look at her and wonder how it must feel to find your dream.

He went off to college, picking something that sounded exciting on paper, but still didn’t light a fire in him like he wanted it to. But he wanted to be able to think that he chose the right thing, and so he continued to follow it through, because, naturally, he was good at it anyway. Sam was home for the summer after his sophomore year of college when Ingrid confided in him that she’d found something huge.

After the younger Song sibling went on a visit to their parents’ workplace, Ingrid had found something scary, something that convinced her their parents were some sort of villains working for evil masterminds-- or at least tech that seemed to imply that to a creative and impressionable mind. Sam believed her immediately, his own young imagination running wild and the siblings spent the next few weeks trying to prove that their parents weren’t who they said they were.

When they thought they finally had enough evidence, they confronted them, but were met with something entirely different-- and thankfully a little more tame. Their parents confessed that they were actually retired spies, and their jobs at Reign Tech were due to that. Suddenly everything made more sense, even though it hardly made sense that their normal, PTA-member parents could have had any past as cool and exciting as espionage. There was one more catch, however.

Not only were their parents ex-spies, they were actually connected to one of the biggest names in the history of espionage-- and assassination, actually. Sam and Ingrid’s father was a Blackthorne descendant, though for the safety of his young children, had asked his family to hide that side of them from the Song kids. Sam knew the name Blackthorne, but only as the last name of the cousin he loved so much, the fun uncles, and the serious grandpa from his dad’s side. And now he was realizing that all along they were actually one of the most prominent families in the spy community.

What’s more was, well, the Blackthornes had their own school. While it took some genuine debating and convincing of his parents, it was mostly a no-brainer to Sam. This is what he was meant to do, this was why he had never found a true purpose in life. He was destined to be a spy. His father warned him that Blackthorne would be unlike any other school he’d ever been to or heard of, that it would be the hardest thing he’d have to endure, and that his ancestry might hurt him more than it would help. But Sam was determined, hopeful that he had the guts to handle it.

So, in 2018, he enrolled as a first year at Blackthorne, and just as he had expected, it was nothing like he was expecting. Luckily, he did have third year and cousin Emmett Blackthorne at his side, who took the brunt of the family name and all its hurdles as well as provided him with a kind face to stick by when he didn’t know what he was doing. Sam was content to stay in Emmett’s shadow, the heir apparent, who he looked up to just as much. He spent his year at Blackthorne wrestling with how absolutely unbearable training was, the looks of showing up as some unknown Blackthorne, and a shocking revelation: he was not good at this.

Sam had always excelled at everything he’d tried his hand at, annoyingly so, and it only frustrated him further that the one time he was sure he’d found what he wanted to do with his life, he couldn’t master it on the first try, and had to work twice as hard as everyone else to stay afloat. So much for the Blackthorne blood, he thought, and it came to a head when he heard whispers of what his namesake’s school asked of boys in order to graduate. By the end of the year, he was sure he couldn’t survive and he was not going back.

And that was when news hit that the school’s doors would be closing forever and its sister school Gallagher Academy, would be opening its doors to all genders. The next step was clear to Sam, who didn’t want to give up espionage. Because as grueling as Blackthorne was, and as hard as it was to wrap his head around the fact that he wasn’t naturally gifted at it, he couldn’t imagine ever doing anything else. So, he transferred to Gallagher in 2019, and fell in love with the school immediately.

Ever since, he’s been steadily climbing up his own personal mountain, training hard and trying his best to master what he should have a direct familial line to. Aside from how seriously he takes his schoolwork, he’s still bright and goofy as ever, and Sam knows if he ever loses that side of him, that’s when he won't be able to pursue this any longer. But for now, he’s vibing and thriving!

TLDR - THE FACTS

Sam is a goofy and bright personality, always friendly and always looking to have fun

grew up in Cali with Ingrid to two loving parents in the tech industry

they moved to Virginia when their parents got hired by Reign Tech

he’s a naturally gifted kid who was almost instantly good at everything he tried, though he could never find a passion that motivated him and had no idea what to do with his future

Ingrid says she think their parents are evil masterminds and he instantly believes her, until their parents confess they’re actually just retired spies!

also, surprise, they’re Blackthorne descendants, and their father convinced the Blackthorne side to keep the spy business a secret from his kids

Sam decides this is what he’s meant to do with his life and enrolls in Blackthorne, only to find out this is the one thing he’s not naturally good at

hates his first year at Blackthorne, because the place is a nightmare, being a Blackthorne is not all it’s cracked up to be, and he finds out about the m*rder secret lol

but despite it all, despite espionage being the one thing he can’t immediately excel at, it’s the first thing in his life that he truly feels driven towards and wants to pursue

so when Blackthorne (thankfully) closes, he’s super happy to transfer to Gallagher, and has been loving it there ever since!

he takes his schoolwork and training super seriously, because he’s trying to get better and better every day, but aside from that, he’s laid-back, kind, and vibrant!

CONNECTIONS

Ingrid Song: his baby sister, he’ll do literally anything to see her happy; he’s super supportive of her dreams and passions, and is just a touch worried about her being at Gallagher after the previous year; they have a great and healthy relationship!

Regine Ren: childhood best friend ever since he moved in next door to her; developed a crush on her in their teenage years and they started dating for a good while before they realized they couldn’t work in the long run; still on good terms and he considers her a close friend

i’m down for almost anything pls <3

@gallagherintro

#this bio isn't even that good why did it take me so long sjdnvkjndf #gallagher:intro #abt #anyway goofy loving boy :)

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stabletwooriginals · 4 years

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CHAPTER TWO: Equestrian Wasteland

Panic attack! A surprising, yet well described reaction LittlePip has to the vastness of the great outdoors. The little ghost story about the outside just being a black void also comes back one final time.

The prospect of finding Velvet shrinking dramatically phases LittlePip surprisingly little. Instead she just kinda starts looking for her by seeking a high vantage point. This pro-active attitude and little time spent on feeling sorry for herself is endearing, as well. I think this is gonna change at certain points, considering all the stuff that is going to happen to her. But maybe I'm confusing my memories with Project Horizons, in which the main character spends quite some time feeling sorry for herself. (And considering what happens to her, I don't really blame her.)

I love the light emitted by a terminal described as "the soft green glow of a poisoned apple". Horse gonna think of apples.

LittlePip remarks on the sturdiness of the StableTec terminals, looking new while everything around it decayed in some form. I think this actually has a (horrifying) explanation in lore. But we won't get to it for a while.

On it, we get a message from Velvet asking, or rather pleading the reader not to look for her. LittlePip's enthusiasm is curbed by it, but not her plan. While she is considering her options she gets distracted by a light in the distance. So, uh, the issue that Velvet doesn’t want to return just gets shoved to the back row until it has to be confronted again at a later date. Seeing as finding Velvet is the bigger issue anyway, that's not very hard to accept for now, at least.

Oh and there is a encrypted message on there too. We don't learn anything useful about it and LittlePip downloads it for the heck of it. In my opinion, a weird place to stick this beat, as it draws attention only to get pushed aside immediately again and the payoff it has at the end of the chapter brings a minor revelation at best. This information could have been given later as well.

Now I was forced to admit how foalish that vision was.

Reading FoE made me realize they say "foalish" in the original show too. At least in season 1, which is all that existed during the time FoE was being written. Isn't that wild? Discord gets a mention very late into the story, otherwise all the world building is propped up on lore that existed *before* the fandom really reached it's peak!

And LittlePip runs straight into a slaver trap. I appreciate the effort to have her not recognize the shotgun and how the details of the situation slowly unravel until the dreaded clarification "They're slavers, you idiot". Makes it relatable that she fell for their trap.

Thinking about the slavers LittlePip mentions her "repertoire of colorful metaphors". Interesting to tell us about it instead of letting us see for ourselves later. Because, well, she undoubtedly does have quite the repertoire of colorful metaphors.

I absolutely love that the description of the music the Spritebots makes captures the song Pinkie Pie uses in the episode "Swarm of the Century" to remove the Parasprites perfectly. Even the first time reading I had that song in my head at this point.

LittlePip being a swift learner is yet another endearing trait on display when she sees one of the slavers fire his shotgun at the Spritebot and notices how the weapon works. Let's hope there is some kind of fight soon where she gets to implement this newfound knowledge!

I wonder why the raiders decided to attack the slavers. The slavers clearly didn't anticipate this and I doubt LittlePip or Montgomery Jack (the other slave) are such evidently high-tier cargo worth stealing. But hey, I got my wish for a fight and establishing LittlePip's talent with a bobby pin and screwdriver to unlock her shackles is already paying off too.

This kinda leads into a larger question of what raiders are and what they want, but I'll save that for later. Once we met a lot more of them.

Well, seeing how the raiders are beating them up, that probably wasn't why they started the fight either. Also, like with the slavers before, they throw in a threat of sexual violence against LittlePip that feels kinda cheap to me. Like, yo, enslaving her and/or threatening to kill her apparently isn't enough to paint them as bad guys? I understand that this is mainly a taste thing, as some people don't mind a story that is painted this dark this casually. I just feel like the story would not lose it's tone without them, while being more upsetting than it needs to be with them. At least here, in Chapter Two.

LittlePip’s first fight is awesome. It's scary, it's fast and has a few surprises. The biggest one probably being that the question of killing others hasn't come up yet. If we are familiar with Fallout (at least 3 and onward) this shouldn't be a hard question to answer, but LittlePip tries to avoid it here.

Montgomery, like a more experienced Fallout player however, finishes the raider off and starts to loot them. Showing LittlePip the ropes of the game. How nice of him. Then he robs her. That's not how I play Fallout, but the games pride themselves with their choice of options, I guess.

That he instructs LittlePip to check the bodies, she therefore has to puke into the river because of it and sees Montgomery's shotgun reflected in the water behind her head is just great dramatic storytelling. I can just see the movie version of this in my minds eye.

However, LittlePip actually manages to get out of this with a little luck in finding the raiders shotgun next to her (which is a combat shotgun, unlike the regular one the slaver had and Montgomery is holding now) and by packing everything she learned about the two weapons into a convincing argument. Making her win the fight before it started, which is just genuinely bad-ass.

Finally LittlePip makes it into Ponyville -- pursued by a sniper. Can't catch a break!

No, she or he could just wait until I came out.

Something that might not be very noticeable yet is how FoE has kind of a inverted societal structure when it comes to gender. MLP had this too, to a degree, as it was targeting young girls. Here, we can see it transform the order pronouns are used in a common phrase. It might read as a typo or error but we will see that female characters tend to enjoy higher privileges and hold the highest positions of power. Of course that would affect their language as much as other phrases are transformed due to them being horses. See: "What the hay?"

A pile of torn-up cloth rotted in a corner, smelling foul, like ponies had urinated on it repeatedly.

Nooo, Rarity's work and art :(

Finally, we get to read the encrypted message from earlier. It's Applebloom’s final words to Sweetie Belle, letting us realize that at least some of the Apple Family has been in Stable Two when it closed and it's first Overmare was Sweetie Belle, Rarity's younger sister. That’s cool to know, but doesn’t affect much of our understanding of anything yet.

Level Up! New Perk: Horse Sense. As we saw, LittlePip is a swift learner. I usually feel like whatever LittlePip learned in the chapter influences the perk she receives at the end. But shouldn't a perk only affect her after she got it? The allusions to RPG mechanics kinda fall apart a little bit when you think too hard about them.

Since they are a "Footnote" I'll just imagine that LittlePip leveled up and received the perk sometime *during* the chapter. Ah, now the world is right again.

#fallout equestria #my little pony #fan fiction #reading #reread #littlepip #ponyville

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ximcnadlc · 4 years

Text

*·˚ ༘♡ (cindy kimberly, cisfemale) have you seen ximena de la cruz? ximena is in her senior year. the arts management major is 23 years old & is a cancer. People say she is indulgent, vibrant, temperamental and distrustful. Rumors say they’re a member of calloway society. I heard from the gossip blog that she’s recovering from a cocaine addiction that she abused to keep herself thin.

hi everyone ! i’m marci and i’m super excited to present ximena to you all. i’m awful when it comes to writing intros so please bare with me lol. if you like what you read, feel free to like this post or message me so we can get to plotting !

stats !

FULL NAME ― ximena sofia de la cruz NICKNAMES ― xime BIRTHDATE ― june 25th, 1997 AGE ― twenty-three years old ZODIAC ― cancer GENDER ― cis female PRONOUNS ― she/her ORIENTATION ― repressed bisexual

background !

again i tried to write this up asap so it might suck absolute ass, but just ignore that and plot with me anyway :-) also drug and addiction tw

― so ximena and her twin brother were born in nyc, new york BUT were raised in a number of places ‘round the world due to their mother’s constant travel

― despite the twin’s father being permanently located in chicago, illinois they followed their mother wherever her modeling work took her because their father was too busy being the ceo of a conglomerate to take care of them properly

― this company is a longstanding business venture started by the twin’s great-great-great grandfather meaning the de la cruz family came from old money— at least on their father’s side

― their mother wasn’t a stranger to wealth as she earned it herself while working her way up to becoming a world renowned supermodel. considering her familiarity with the working class she made sure to keep the twins aware of their absurd wealth and privilege, which helped the two stay grounded (especially ximena)

— of the two, ximena’s older brother (by 15 minutes) was always their mother’s favorite child and is often referred to as the golden boy by ximena. unfortunately for her, their mother’s preference for her only son had always been clear due to the constant discrimination ximena received

— growing up, she was a fairly chubby girl who barely resembled her mother. her teeth were crooked, her clothes never fit right, she was awkward looking, shy, and not the natural beauty the public expected her mother to give birth to

— the constant criticism ximena received from the outside world never compared to that of which she heard from her own mother. their conversations never veered away from being told how to look, how to behave, what to eat, who to talk to… it was absolutely draining and despite eventually growing out of her ugly duckling phase (thanks to puberty) ximena never seemed to be good enough for her own mother

— this never-ending stream of disapproval really chipped away at ximena’s confidence. it became clear to her in high school that no matter what she’d do, her mother would always view her as a disappointment

— her revelation didn’t stop her from trying to gain her mother’s favor though. she continuously watched what she ate and worked out more than normal, which lead to a mental and physical exhaustion that ximena couldn’t stand anymore. so instead, she looked to ways that would help her maintain the slim figure her mother constantly harassed her about and quickly found that cocaine was the easiest way to go about it

— at first, she only did it recreationally with some friends, but eventually she saw the benefits it had on suppressing her appetite and it encouraged her growing addiction to the harmful drug. the peak of her dependency happened her freshman year at yates when she was found in some bathroom breathing uncontrollably at the brink of an overdose

— after this incident, her parents sent her to rehab immediately and forced her to opt out of her sophomore year at yates so that she could get a handle on her addiction

— it has now been three years since the incident and although she’s been clean since, her mother’s criticism has only grown worse. ximena only hopes that she can manage to keep her past addiction under wraps if not for her family’s sake than for her own

tl;dr — ximena is a wealthy socialite twin with an extremely critical mother. she’s criticized to the point of acquiring a cocaine addiction to keep up with her mother’s insane beauty standards

extras !

— with a last name like de la cruz i just imagine them all speaking spanish especially with each other and especially bc their mother is actually from spain so, FLUENT SHE IS. i also imagine her with a cute lil accent because of it

— ximena is a total daddy’s girl and absolutely adores him despite not seeing him as often as her mom. in fact, when her addiction became known to the family, he was the one who constantly checked in on her to make sure his little princess was doing okay

— her relationship with her brother is a little rocky due to difference in treatment they received from their mother. she loves him, but can’t help feeling resentful as he got the love and praise from the one person she swears hates her guts

— her parents definitely paid off the person who found ximena in the bathroom and made them sign an nda to keep the accident under wraps. her dad may love her unconditionally, but at the end of the day a scandal like hers could negatively impact the family company and that’s just a huge no-no

— personality wise ximena is a sweet girl who just wants to feel appreciated and loved. she won’t go out of her way to make sure everyone likes her, but will try her best to be kind and accepting of everyone. however, at times she can be a bit erratic because of the cocaine’s lasting effects on her. so if you catch her in one of her moods, she’s sorry lol

— mommy issues call for her repressing the attraction she has towards women in authoritarian positions. be mean to her and she might just get ~secretly~ turned on by it

— during her time in rehab, ximena turned her focus towards her art and used it to distract herself from the withdrawal symptoms she often struggled with. she’s hoping that after yates she can pursue her dream of opening her getting her art displayed at museums and possibly opening her own art gallery

connections !

i usually write out more than this, but again i’m RUSHINGGGG

— ok so again someone who got paid off by her parents to keep hush hush about the accident in the bathroom. maybe they hold it over her head to get more money or maybe they try to make sure she’s actually ok ?? idk you tell me what you like

— she’s an ARTISTE so be her muse !! there’s something about y/c that intrigues ximena and she just constantly finds them sketching/paintaing/doodling her all over everything

— ahaha obviously need a girl that helps her explore her sexuality and attraction towards women. maybe it started off as a drunk one night stand and ximena tries to deny it ever happening but y/c is like “sike ! that shit happened and it was niiiiiiice”

— she. needs. friends. whether they’re just acquaintances or attached at the hip, she needs them !

— someone she has a huge crush on !! maybe they know and tease her about it, or they don’t and are oblivious to her advances. they could reciprocate or not, whatever you think fits

— possibly a second ex ?? they met at yates and maybe used each other for something idk

— also enemies. maybe they’re rivals within their major or bc of the societies thing or maybe they’re in the same society and they just dislike each other for some reason

— literally anything !! i want to plot with everyone !!

#yatesintro #❝ ✰ ―― 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 // i n t r o d u c t i o n .#drug tw #addiction tw #just skip to bottom of background for the super short summary of whats up with her #and if youd like to plot shoot me a message or like this and ill go to youuuuu!!

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sofhyuck · 6 years

Text

Teach or Be Taught

Genre: elementary school teacher!Jaehyun, elementary school teacher!reader, fluff, gender neutral

Word Count: 7.2k

Excerpt: “Here, you can lean on my shoulder. You have like forty-five minutes to take a nap.” He scoots a little closer, supplying you with the maximum amount of comfort he can. You thank him quietly, nuzzling into his side while leaning your head on his shoulder. Jaehyun looks down at you, admiring every eyelash, every freckle, every part of you his eyes can reach. He’s never been in love before, but he swears this is what it feels like.

Masterlist

A/N: I tried a different writing style (which is heavily inspired by @dreaminghaos hi i love your writing style sm I aspire to be like you) bc why not???

Day 1 [8:00 am]

First days are the epitome of all things anxiety inducing. Meeting new people, trying to make said new people like you, all while in a new environment: any anti-social person’s worst nightmare. Every first day of school nerves never failed to bubble up in your throat, palms growing sweaty from mild fear. And, right at this moment, you feel as though your heart is going to fall out of your ass. You know this is what you’ve been waiting for, spending years at uni to work yourself up to that coveted teaching certificate. Now, you have that certificate as well as a job to go with it. Speaking of which…

You’re stood in front of the entryway, wringing your hands together, unable to shake yourself free of your anxieties. The door opened, revealing a tall middle aged woman who beckons you over. Slowly you make your way over, wiping your dampened hands on the front of your pants.

“Are you the new second grade teacher?” She inquires, looking you over.

“Ah, yes. My name is Y/n, it’s nice to meet you.” You give her a small bow.

“You’re here bright and early, aren’t you? Come on, I’ll show you to your classroom!” She smiles brightly, holding the door open wider to usher you inside. “I’m Han Ana, Mrs. Han to the kids. I’ve been teaching the fourth grade here for about twenty years now.”

You balk at her revelation, feeling like a child next to her. She leads you through the halls, chatting happily about the school before stopping in front of a room.

“Here, room 202 is all yours. You can situate yourself for now, but there’s an all staff meeting in twenty before the kids get here. It’ll be in the staff lounge downstairs. If you need any help I’m right down the hall in 204!” She leaves you at your classroom and you make your way inside. It’s your typical classroom, small desks in rows with one larger sat in the front. You place your bag and laptop on the front desk and open the shades covering the windows. Sunlight bursts throughout the room as you make your way around, inspecting every inch while rearranging desks where needed.

[8:18 am]

You glance up at the clock, only to find that you have less than two minutes to make it to the staff meeting. You race out the door, nearly falling down the stairs before you finally make it to the lounge. Every pair of eyes is on you as soon as you enter and you flush, ducking your head and sitting down next to Ana at one of the many round tables placed precariously around the room.

The staff meeting doesn’t last very long and you’re left with a good half hour before you need to get back to your classroom. Unsure as to what you should do next, you glance nervously around the table you’re sat at. All the unfamiliar faces make your head spin, each of them in their own conversations. Just as you’re about to get up and leave, Ana perks up.

“Oh, right! This is our new teacher, Y/n! They’re taking over for Mr. Park.”

“Thank god, that old man was really getting on my nerves.” A voice pipes up from across the table, pulling laughter from your coworkers.

“You look rather young, Y/n, how old are you?”

“I’m twenty-four. Just graduated a few months ago.” You flush as everyone gawks at you.

“Looks like you’re no longer our youngest teacher, Jaehyun. Think you’re ok with that?”

“I can live with it.” A deep voice chuckles a few seats away from you, and you turn to find the source. His eyes are already on yours and he greets you with a kind smile. “I’m Jung Jaehyun, previous youngest staff in the school. I’m also teaching the second grade.” You give him a soft smile in return, cheeks flushed slightly at his attention.

“It must be nice to finally have someone around your age, Jaehyun. I bet it can be tiring to hang around us old geezers all the time.” Ana pipes up.

“Ahhh, you guys aren’t so bad.” He teased, dimples poking at his cheeks. “But I’m excited to get to know our new addition.”

“We should probably head back to our classrooms. The kids should be arriving in about ten minutes now.” You stand up with everyone else, following them out the door. You feel a light nudge to your left, and turn to find Jaehyun walking beside you.

“What room are you in, newbie?”

“202. What about you?”

“Ah, damn I’m down here in 110. I was hoping we’d be on the same floor. Oh well, guess I’ll see you at lunch.” He grins before turning the corner, leaving you with a parting wave.

[11:50 am]

You’re exhausted yet probably the happiest you’ve ever been. Your students are absolutely adorable and seem to get along as well. The morning was filled with name games and little get-to-know-yous. Now, as you walk your students in a single file line to the cafeteria, you’re sure that you know all of their names by heart. They wave goodbye once they’re settled in the cafeteria and you make your way towards the staff lounge. Upon entering, you scan the room to find Jaehyun sat at a table in the center of the room. His gaze lifts from his lunchbox to rest on you and a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. You give him a short wave, going to grab your lunch from the refrigerator before sitting beside him.

“How are your kids? Any trouble makers?” He probes once you’re comfortably seated.

“Oh, they’re all so wonderful! I can already tell this year is going to be amazing!”

“That’s great! I knew as soon as I saw you that your students would love you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You flush, feeling small under his gaze.

“I mean, you just have this air of comfort about you? Plus, the kids always take better to a pretty face.” Your blush only deepens and you laugh nervously, gaze shifting to your lunch.

“What about you, Jaehyun? How long have you been working here?”

“This is my fourth year.” He hums happily, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve never had any issues with my students, although I do get a few proposals every year.”

“I’m not surprised.” You laugh, shovelling rice into your mouth. Jaehyun quirks an eyebrow at you, a smirk playing at his lips.

“I think you might give me some competition for most marriage proposals.”

“Hmmm, we’ll see. Although i’m not sure that’s a title we should fight for.”

“It’s nothing but a friendly competition, Y/n.” You shake your head, smiling slightly while packing up your lunch.

“I’ll see you later Jaehyun.”

“See ya!” He gives you a small nod, turning back to his lunch.

Day 6 [7:00 pm]

Jaehyun oftentimes wonders how and why he’s friends with the idiotic group of children he considers his closest friends. But now, sat on the floor of Doyoung’s nearly empty apartment with cookie crumbs covering the front of his shirt, he understands that he himself is one of those children.

“Hyung, I thought you were supposed to be mildly more responsible than the rest of us. It’s been like, what, a week since you moved in and you’re still not done unpacking?” Mark snickers from beside Jaehyun.

“Some of us have actual jobs that require them to be available most of the time, Mark.” Doyoung quips back, shoving the younger at the back of his head.

“Dude you can literally ask any of us for help, you know that right?” Johnny chimes in.

“Like I’d let any of you touch my belongings. Besides, you guys won’t know where to put anything.”

“Oh ye of little faith. Come on, why don’t we help right now!”

“Hold up.” Jaehyun sits straight up, brushing the crumbs from his shirt. “This is not what I agreed to! I’m exhausted from dealing with the kids all week, I don’t need any more exertion.”

Mumbles of agreement chime from around the room, Doyoung physically relaxing knowing that his belongings are no longer at risk of being tampered with; at least for now, that is. Jaehyun reaches for the pack of chocolate chip cookies in Sicheng’s grasp, nearly having to wrestle it out of his greedy hands. Sicheng finally releases the pack, causing Jaehyun to fall back on his ass earning a chorus of laughter from his friends.

“How are the kids this year anyways, Jae? Any wedding bells ringing?”

“Not yet, Tae.” He chuckles.

“Didn’t you mention that you were getting a new teacher?”

“Yea replacing that old asshole, right?”

“Ah, yea, they’re our new youngest staff member.” Jaehyun revealed.

“Ooooh are they cute?”

“They must be. Look! His ears are turning red!” The room once again erupts into laughter at the expense of Jaehyun. He looks around, gaze settling on a paper book that he then throws at whoever’s closest.

“Ow, c’mon man.” Yuta mumbles, rubbing his stomach.

“We’re just teasing you dude. I mean, it’s been like four years since you last dated someone, it’s about time you got back into the game.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes in response, digging through the nearly empty pack of cookies in hopes of distracting himself. So what if he had been single for awhile? What was it that people said, married to your job? In fact, his last relationship ended right after he got his current job, something about him constantly smelling like baby powder now. Since then, he hasn’t really bothered to start a new relationship. Out of the odd single mother or father, Jaehyun doesn’t really come across people his age. He traded that part of his life to be surrounded by seven to eight year old children instead.

“Do you have a picture of them?”

“Uh, maybe, hold on a sec.” Jaehyun opens his photo app only to be faced with the picture of you that he most definitely had not been smiling at on his way over to Doyoung’s apartment. It’s a picture of you when you were on recess duty together. The two of you had been stood talking to one another, both keeping an eye on the children, when one of your students had ran over and tugged lightly on the side of your pants. You had immediately knelt down to be eye level with the child, asking her what was wrong. Blushing, the girl brought out a flower from behind her back, holding it out to you. You smiled gratefully and reached out to take the gift from her small hands. Jaehyun couldn’t help himself and immediately pulled out his phone, snapping a quick picture before turning away, feigning innocence. You had caught him, of course, and immediately demanded he send the picture to you.

“Hmmm, yea they’re cute.” Mark’s voice sounds directly next to Jaehyun’s ear. The boy cranes his neck to look over the elder’s shoulder for a peak at his phone screen.

“Oi, back off.” Jaehyun nudges Mark, turning his phone to show the rest of the group the photo. They hum in approval, a few exchanging nods and giving Jaehyun a sly thumbs up. Jaehyun feels his ears burn and he quickly snatches his phone back.

“Have you made a move yet?”

“Knowing our Jaehyun he probably already has.”

“Leave me aloooone.” Jaehyun whines, fully prepared to throw another book at the group.

“Sorry Jae, it’s just so fun to see you ears turn red. It’s so rare that we get to see you all flustered.”

“You’re not helping Johnny.”

“I know.”

Jaehyun decides that he really needs new friends who aren’t mentally, or physically, seven years old.

Day 33 [10:00 am]

A knock sounds at your classroom door, causing you to halt your current lesson. Your students immediately begin tittering amongst each other as you walk over to open the door, revealing a bashful Jaehyun stood in your doorway. You can hear your students shuffling in their seats, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever is at the door.

“Hey Y/n, I was wondering if you had any extra white board markers? My last one just ran out in the middle of class and I’ve been meaning to buy new ones but I keep forgetting.”

“Sure, Jaehyun, give me a second.” Jaehyun follows you into your classroom, a chorus of “ooooh’s” from your students echoing around the room. You immediately shush them, flushing at their teasing. You reach into your desk drawer, pulling out a new marker and handing it to him.

“Thanks, Y/n.” He smiles, the classroom again bursting with teasing sounds and you usher Jaehyun out the door. It takes you almost five minutes to calm down the kids, although they continue to bring up Mr. Jung until the lunch bell rings. Once you drop the class off at the cafeteria, you heave a sigh of relief, happy to be free of their taunting. Jaehyun greets you in the staff’s lounge, sliding a rice cake over to you.

“What’s this for?”

“A little thank you for the new marker.”

“Ah really, it was no problem. But why didn’t you just go to someone on your floor.”

“Why, I wanted to visit you, of course! You’re worth the perilous trek.”

You roll your eyes. “Ah yes, the treacherous single flight of stairs, how brave of you.”

Jaehyun points his chopsticks at you, dropping a piece of chicken in the process. “Hey, you never know when you could trip and injure yourself. People fall and break their necks on those death traps all the time.”

“Lovely, Jaehyun. As if I wasn’t already afraid of falling down stairs.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll catch you if you fall.” He grins, reaching over to pat you on the head. You swat away his hand, ready to reprimand him for messing up your hair when Ana pulls out the chair next to you, calling for both of your attention.

“What are you two lovebirds up to?”

“L-lovebirds?” You choke out, eyes widening at her question.

“Haven’t you heard, you two are the new hot couple of the school.” She giggles, taking a bite out of her egg sandwich. “Even the students are gossiping! My, it’s so exciting, we haven’t had a school couple since Suzy and Haseul left.”

“We - I mean we’re not a couple…”

“Oh but you will be soon, I call it.”

Jaehyun, noticing your discomfort, cuts her off. “C’mon Ana, give it a rest for now. We’re just trying to eat our lunch in peace.”

She raises her arms in surrender, returning her focus back to her sandwich, voicing her complaints to the room. “I swear, the school lunches just seem to be worsening every year, more and more parents are making lunches for their kids.”

“It’s not that bad, they’re still better than anything my school provided when I was a kid.”

“Hm, little baby Jaehyunie must’ve been so cute.” You tease, pinching his cheeks.

“Ay, come on now.” He whines, ears turning red at your ministrations.

“Well, I better head out now, you kids have fun.” Ana stands up, wiping the crumbs from her hands.

You both bid her farewell, Jaehyun’s fingers tapping a soft beat onto your wrist.

“I’m sorry if all that coupley stuff made you uncomfortable. We’re all kind of like a big family here so most of us are used to that kind of teasing. You’ll probably get used to it, but if you ever feel uncomfortable again just let me know, ok?” He gives you a warm smile, his hand now settled over top your own. You smile, thanking him in return.

[3:50 pm]

You’re sat in the entryway to the school, one of your students sat beside you. You’re attempting to distract her, but it’s been twenty minutes since her mother was meant to pick her up and you can tell that she’s growing nervous.

“Mommy’s running a little late, Bora, don’t worry.” You attempt to soothe her, patting her lightly on the head. “Here, I have some markers and paper, why don’t you draw me a picture of your family?” She smiles at your suggestion, nodding happily while reaching for the supplies. You ask her about each figure drawn, attempting to engage her and keep her attention off of her absent mother.

“What are you two still doing out here?” You look up to see Jaehyun stood over you, smiling down at the two of you.

“I’m drawing, Mr. Jung! Look, there’s me and my little brother and my mommy!”

“Wow, you’re quite the artist!” He crouches down in front of you, leaning on your knees to get a better view of her drawings.

“Thank you!” She giggles. “Teacher’s keeping me company while I wait for my mommy to come pick me up.”

“Oh, well that’s very kind of teacher!”

“Yea! Teacher’s the best!” Bora leans over to hug you tightly and you laugh, wrapping your arms around her.

“Yea, they really are.” Jaehyun gazes up at the two of you, completely enamored. Your eyes sparkle in the sunlight, happiness radiating off of you.

“Mr. Jung!” Bora cries, poking him in the cheek. Leaning in closer to Jaehyun, she beckons him in closer. He leans in and she cups her hands around her mouth. “Are you and teacher dating?” She questions in a poor attempt at a whisper.

“No, Bora, at least not yet.” He whispers.

“But I want to marry you Mr. Jung.” She pouts.

“Maybe in a few years, ok?’ He chuckles. He grins up at you slyly, holding up two fingers. His second confession.

“Bora, baby I am so sorry, traffic was terrible!” A young woman comes rushing over to you, immediately sweeping her child into her arms.

“That’s ok mommy! Teacher and Mr. Jung kept me company.”

Her mother turns to face you, relief evident on her face. “Thank you so much for taking care of Bora, and I’m sorry for being so late.”

“That’s ok!” You smiled. “Just give me a call next time, you should have my number.”

“Right, of course, again I’m so sorry. I’ll be on time from now on.”

“Have nice night, ma’am! Bora, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye teacher! Bye Mr. Jung!”

Jaehyun gets up from his spot on the ground to stand beside you, both of you waving goodbye to the little girl. He can’t help but to gaze at you, heart practically on his sleeve. The way you treat your students so kindly, always sure to show them affection all while keeping an appropriately firm hand.

“Looks like we can go home—”

“Do you want to get something for dinner—” You both speak at the same time, laughing following shortly after.

“Isn’t it too early for dinner?” You question, checking the time on your phone.

“Factor in travel time plus walking around a little, we’ll find a restaurant right before the dinner rush.” Figuring why not? you nod in agreement, heading back inside to gather your belongings.

[4:45 pm]

So, maybe it is still a little too early to have dinner. And by a little too early you mean almost a full hour before you normally would eat. Jaehyun doesn’t seem to mind, however, happily pulling you along the fairly empty streets. You look upon him fondly, following him wherever he goes. Not that you had much choice considering how firmly his hand grasps yours.

It’s inevitable, the way your heart flutters whenever his gaze locks with yours. Sure, the boys you had met in the past were attractive, but Jaehyun’s pure beauty is utterly incomparable. Not to mention his affinity with children and all around gentille manner. If you were being completely honest, Jaehyun is your ideal man, and he’s practically fallen right into your lap. Now if only you could act upon your feelings…

“How about chicken and beer?” Jaehyun suggests, stopping in front of a restaurant.

“Jae, it’s still so early, I’m barely hungry!”

“Fine, why don’t we get takeout instead and then head back to my apartment?”

“Hmmm, trying to get me all to yourself Mr. Jung?”

“Oh god Y/n, please don’t call me that.” He laughs, pulling you inside the restaurant. “Now come on, what do you want to order?”

[5:30 pm]

Jaehyun’s apartment is almost excruciatingly neat, something you honestly didn’t expect from the boy. His classroom is almost always in a state of disarray, a trait you had assumed translated over into his home life. Instead, you’re faced with pristine white walls, not a single book out of place, all stacked neatly on the shelves lining the walls. Your shoes are lined up in the entryway, inked drawings hanging around the apartment. You’re stood gazing at one of said drawings when Jaehyun comes to stand behind you after placing your food on the counter.

“These are all done by my friend Taeyong.” He hums, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“He’s quite talented, does he do commissions?”

“Oh definitely, I bet I could even get you a discount!”

You laugh, pulling him back over to the counter. He grabs some plates from his cabinets as you unload the chicken. Each plate is decorated with a floral design around the brim, a fact you’re sure to take note of. You take a bite of chicken, humming at the savory taste. Meanwhile, Jaehyun’s hands are getting sweaty. It has been so long since Jaehyun dated someone, let alone invited someone over to his apartment who wasn’t a part of his friend group. Especially someone he held such a strong attraction to. He found himself unable to meet your gaze, quite the 180 from his usually confident demeanor.

“Jaehyun, did you know that your ears turn red fairly easily?”

Jaehyun immediately drops his chopsticks, bringing his hands to cover his ears. Of course his ears are red, they always are around you. You laugh at his reaction, muttering a soft cute as you turn back to your chicken.

“I’m not cute,” he pouts, “I’m extremely handsome.”

“You can be both, Jae. In fact, you are.” Jaehyun’s hands are still over his ears, fully aware that they’ve only grown redder. “Eat your chicken, it’s gonna grow cold.”

Day 76 [8:30 am]

“Oh, Jaehyun! Just the teacher I’ve been looking for!” Jaehyun abruptly stops his conversation with one of the third grade teachers. He smiles, turning to face you.

“What’s up?”

“I’m trying to take the kids on a field trip to the science museum but the principal told me I need another teacher to come with me since I’m new. I was hoping you’d be ok with coming along. Our classes get along well too.”

Jaehyun thinks it’s rather odd that the principal is requiring you to bring another teacher along. He didn’t have to do that during his first year. He chooses to shrug it off for now, exchanging his confusion for relief. Thank god you were comfortable enough around him to ask for his help.

“I’d be glad to! I take my classes there every year anyways.”

“Oh, thank you so much, you’re a real lifesaver!”

“Of course, we can discuss the details later at lunch today, yea?

You give him a quick hug before dashing off to your classroom.

“Aren’t you guys dating yet?”

“Not yet.” Jaehyun smiles softly, gazing at your retreating figure.

Day 82 [8:30 am]

The students arrive half an hour earlier than usual so that they have enough time to explore the museum. You and Jaehyun are ushering your students onto the bus, chaperones already assigned and sat with their groups. The final student gets on the bus and you and Jaehyun follow. Considering that there are two classrooms plus chaperones on the bus, there are only two seats left, sat next to one another. Jaehyun allows you to sit first, giving you the window seat, and promptly plops himself down next to you.

He leans down to whisper in your ear. “I heard you got another confession yesterday. What does that make, five?”

“Are you still keeping track of that?” You snort. “I’m not even counting anymore.”

“Of course, I need to keep my status as most popular teacher!”

“Well if you must know, I’ve actually gotten six confessions.”

“I thought you stopped keeping track?” He pokes your side, teasing.

“You’re just jealous I have more confessions than you.” You huff.

“…maybe so.” Jaehyun sits back with a pout. “Just wait a few weeks, I’ll take you over.” He gazes over at you out of the corner of his eye, hoping to have pulled a reaction out of you. You’re already looking at him, smiling stupidly at his sulking figure. Jaehyun’s heart flutters, an almost foreign feeling after going so long without a relationship. If there’s one thing his friends are actually right about, it’s that he doesn’t get out enough. Whenever they ask him to hang out to drink, he opts to stay in, worried that one of his student’s parents might see him. Not an ideal situation, seeing your child’s teacher stumbling around in a drunken stupor. It had happened once during his first year of teaching, and Jaehyun is not about to let that happen again. Thus, he rarely has the ability to meet new people, let alone a potential lover. Then here comes you, the cute new teacher who steals his heart in less than five minutes. Damn his vulnerability.

[12:00 pm]

The students have congregated at the museum cafeteria, slightly exhausted from their morning spent running around the museum but still excited nonetheless. Jaehyun is sat next to you, both of your groups situated around the table. Happy chatter flits around the room, making it hard to hold a proper conversation. Jaehyun is forced to lean into your side so that you are able to hear one another, not that either of you mind. A light tug at the back of his shirt calls for Jaehyun to turn around, one of his students stood behind him.

“What’s up buddy?” He laughs lightly tickling the boy’s stomach. The boy giggles, breaking off into a long winded spiel about how exciting his day has been so far. Jaehyun diligently listens to every word, reacting when necessary and answering all of the boys questions to the best of his ability. You can’t help to gaze fondly at the two of them, heart fluttering at the sight (but then again, when doesn’t your heart flutter when Jaehyun is around).

“You’re my favorite teacher!” The boy finally states, hugging Jaehyun before skipping away. Jaehyun turns to you giving you a pointed look and a smirk.

“That does not count.” You state, rolling your eyes.

“Oh it totally does, this competition is for who’s the favorite teacher and he said I’m his favorite.”

“Yes but we’re only counting confessions.”

“Hey, we never made a rule like that.”

“Fine, I’ll count it. But only because you’ll still be behind me.”

“Only by one.” He teases, leaning over to snatch a piece of meat from your plate. You swat away his hand, Jaehyun laughing jovially in response.

[1:00 pm]

“All right kids, get back with your chaperones, we only have a few more hours left at the museum!” A chorus of groans sound throughout the museum cafeteria, your students not quite yet ready to leave. You round up your own group of kids, counting meticulously to make sure they’re all still present. The students are all fluttering about, fully energized from their lunch. A few have taken to hanging off your legs, giggling madly.

“How much sugar did you monkeys eat?” You laugh, leaning down to gently pry them off. “Come on, don’t you want to go back into the museum? We still haven’t gone to the weather room, I heard there’s a cool lightning exhibit.” Your students immediately let go of your legs, now wanting to explore the museum as soon as possible.

“Y/n!” You look up to see Jaehyun and his group of students coming towards you. “Heard you’re going to the weather room, we haven’t gone either and were hoping we could tag along.”

“I don’t know kids, do we want Mr. Jung to join us, I heard he’s a little smelly.”

“Hey! I am not smelly!”

Your students all giggle, taking great amusement in your back and forth.

“I think we should let them join, teacher! Mr. Jung is really handsome.” Bora sounds, a few of the other students in your group agreeing.

“Alright Mr. Jung, you can join our group but only because you’re so handsome.” You laugh, his ears reddening in embarrassment.

“Wow thank you guys so much.” He grins shyly. “Shall we go?”

You nod, gesturing for your students to follow close behind. Jaehyun sidles up to you, bumping your arm with his.

“Do you really think I’m smelly?” He whispers, half joking but also half worried you’ll say yes.

“Only a little,” you tease, “but, like, not in a bad way.”

“Ayyy, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, like, I guess…”

“I guess…” He repeats, egging you on.

“You smell nice.” You mumble, face flushed at your confession.

“Cute.” Jaehyun grins. “You smell nice too, in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t, but thanks for the affirmation.”

You turn into the weather room, giving your students free reign to walk around while you keep a close eye on them. Jaehyun stations himself across the room so that you have the whole area covered, but that doesn’t keep him from shooting dumb faces at you from time to time.

“Teacher!” One of your students bounds up to you, beckoning for you to crouch down to his height.

“What’s up Taegeun?”

“Is Mr. Jung your boyfriend?” He asks shyly, fiddling with his hands.

“No, why do you ask?”

He perks up at your answer. “Good, because I want to be your boyfriend.” He states proudly, puffing out his chest.

“Hmmm, I’m not really looking for a relationship right now.”

“That’s ok, I can wait.” He says, running back to his group of friends.

You stand back up and make eye contact with Jaehyun. You give him a smirk, holding up seven fingers. He glares back, shaking his head in mock anger at your popularity. You’ve stolen half the school’s hearts, including his own.

[2:35 pm]

The bus is waiting in front of the museum, a few students already sat on the vehicle. You’re standing by the doors, keeping count of the students entering the bus. Ticking off each student as they pass, you finally mark off the last one and make your way onto the bus. Jaehyun gestures for you to sit beside him, scooting over slightly to give you a little more room. You drop down into the seat, exhaustion radiating off of your slumped body.

“The kids tuckered you out, huh?”

“Mmm, just a little.” You hum, eyelids growing heavy.

“Here, you can lean on my shoulder. You have like forty-five minutes to take a nap.” He scoots a little closer, supplying you with the maximum amount of comfort he can. You thank him quietly, nuzzling into his side while leaning your head on his shoulder. Jaehyun looks down at you, admiring every eyelash, every freckle, every part of you his eyes can reach. He’s never been in love before, but he swears this is what it feels like.

Day 97 [9:00 pm]

Another Friday, and Jaehyun once again finds himself sat on Doyoung’s, now fully furnished, apartment. Even though there is a couch, Jaehyun arrived later than everyone else, thus he was left with the floor. His back is flush against the couch and Sicheng’s foot is currently kicking his head.

“Sicheng I’m going to kill you.” He snaps, reaching up to grab the boy’s foot.

“Only if you say you’ll go out with us tonight!”

“You know why I don’t want to!”

“Oh come on, Jae. It happened once years ago, what are the chances it’ll happen again?”

“Well that’s what I thought but look what happened.”

“Dude come on it’s been so long since you went out with us.” Johnny calls out, joining Sicheng in kicking the boy’s side. “Literally just come out with us this one night, we’ll never ask you again.”

Jaehyun hesitates.

“Look, if one of your parent’s sees you we’ll, I don’t know, we’ll pay for your dinner for a month.”

“Wait hold on we’re not agree—”

“Deal.” The thought of being seen by one of his student’s parents is terrifying, yes, but the thought of free dinner for a whole month far outways that potential embarrassment.

[10:00 pm]

Thankfully, his friends choose a more bar-like atmosphere instead of a full fledged club, knowing he probably wouldn’t be up for the high speed environment. There’s loud music playing, various games strewn around the building.

“We’re gonna head over to the pool table, you up for it?”

“I think I’m just gonna hang here for awhile, I’ll catch up with you later.”

A few of his friends head over to the pool table, leaving him at the bar. Jaehyun takes a sip of his drink, eyes scanning the room. He’s not really sure what he’s looking for; there’s not really much to find in the mass of sweaty bodies. His gaze travels to his friends making a bit of a scene by the pool table and he chuckles lowly, amused by their idiocy. He quickly looks away, however, because Ten is about to climb over the table, ready to grab Doyoung by the collar. Not a sight he wants to see. Scanning the room, he looks past the seating area, only to do a double take. There, sat on top of one of the many square tables, is a completely inebriated you, head thrown back in laughter at something your friend just said. The ends of his lips curl up in a smile and he observes your figure for a moment. Downing the rest of his drink, he places the empty glass on the bartop and stands to make his way over to you. Your friends must take notice of his towering figure because they all start frantically waving their arms at you, gesturing towards his approaching figure. You look up with a start and, upon seeing him, abruptly climb off the table. He rushes over to you, stabilizing your shaky figure.

“Mr. Jung, I did not expect to see you here. Like, never.” You giggled happily, poking his cheeks.

“Ah, Y/n, how much have you had to drink?”

“You know how many of the kids have confessed to me?” “Yea?”

“That many.”

“Holy shit.” He mumbled, studying your face. He turns to look at your friends who are all not so subtly checking him out. They turn away at his gaze, tittering amongst themselves before he calls for their attention. “Can I steal Y/n away from you guys?”

“Of course!” One of them giggles. “In fact you can steal me away too if you’d like.”

“Sorry, I only need Y/n.” He smiles kindly, already wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you away..

“Keep our baby safe!” They call after your retreating figures.

“Where are we going?” You mutter, clutching onto his bicep.

“We’re going to get some water into your system and then I’m taking you home.”

“Aw c’mon, you should have some fun! I know you haven’t been out since your first year. Have you even had something to drink yet?”

“I have and right now your safety is more important than me having fun.”

“Ayyy, I’m not gonna let you not have fun because of me. Are your friends here? Can I meet them?”

“Y/n I should really be getting you—”

“Ayo Jae, who’s the cutie?”

“Johnny you dumbass that’s that new teacher he’s been pining after.”

Before Jaehyun could steer you away from his rowdy group of friends you break out of his grasp, heading over to the pool table.

“Shit.” He mumbles under his breath, jogging over to you. Yuta’s already got his arm around you, engaging you in an animate conversation about god knows what. He sighs heavily, pulling you from his friend’s grasp, much to Yuta’s protests.

“Come on let’s get you some water.”

“Jae you can leave ‘em with us while you get the water. We want to get to know your new coworker anyways.” Yuta says with a wink, pulling you back into his side. Knowing he’s fighting a losing battle, Jaehyun hurries to get you a glass of water so that he could rescue you from his friends as soon as possible.

Through your haze you barely register the men surrounding you. They chat happily, asking you about work and, most importantly, your relationship with Jaehyun. You don’t take the questions particularly seriously, too drunk to actually pay attention to what they’re saying. An arm wraps around your waist and you turn your head slightly to find Jaehyun holding a glass of water out to you.

“Here, drink.” He commands softly, raising his eyebrows. You part your lips, too hazy to reach out and take the glass. Jaehyun rolls his eyes but brings the glass to your lips nonetheless. Slowly, he tilts it back, examining how your lips close around the rim as your eyes close. Your cheeks are rosy, this time not out of embarrassment, and your hair’s a bit of a mess. Still beautiful, though.

After a few sips your eyelids flutter open, signalling that you’ve had your fill. He lowers the glass, eyes locked, time at a standstill. Slowly, he raises his hand to run a thumb over your bottom lip, teasing at the plump flesh. Before either of you can make a move, Mark stumbles into Jaehyun, pushing him into you in the process. You giggle as Jaehyun attempts to steady you, glaring at the younger.

“Ok, time to get you home.” He says sternly, pulling you away from his friends.

“Ok.” You giggle, waving goodbye cutely. His friends all coo over you and Jaehyun has to keep himself from doing the same. Happy to have finally gotten you out of the vicinity of the bar, Jaehyun quickly hails a cab and pulls you in after him. You situate yourself as close to him as possible, snuggling into his warmth. You’re slightly more sober now although still a little hazy, and Jaehyun is like a walking space heater. A heavy sigh falls past his lips but he still wraps his arm around you, basking in the comfort you provide.

“You gotta wake up now Y/n. We’re at your place.”

You hum sleepily in response, clambering out of the car. Jaehyun practically has to carry you up to your apartment, making sure you drink more water and wash up before you flop onto your bed. Smiling fondly, he pats your head and leaves your apartment. He wonders if you’ll remember anything tomorrow morning.

Day 100 [3:20 pm]

“Ok kids, we’ll have reading time for the last ten minutes.” Your students all rush to pull out their books and you give out a small sigh of relief, happy that you’ll be able to relax. Before you can get too comfortable, however, a knock sounds at the door. Groaning under your breath you stand up to open it. You’re immediately faced with Jaehyun and his entire class.

“What’s this for?” You gasp, stepping back to let them in.

“Do you know how many days it’s been since you started working here?”

“No?”

“100!” He claps excitedly, grabbing a cake from one of his students, a big 100 written in frosting on top. Both your students and his cheer happily, mostly at the sight of the cake but also because of you, and you gladly take the cake, cheeks turning red.

“You have pretty poor timing, Jaehyun,” you whisper into his ear. “The kids have to leave soon and they’re not going to be happy once they find out they won’t get any cake.”

“I know, I was hoping it’d be a boost in my popularity.” He said with a wink.

“You’re the one who brought the cake, we’re both going down with this one.” You say pointedly, poking him in the chest.

Your students intermingle amongst themselves, books long forgotten in all the excitement. After a little chatting the bell rings and your students race out the door. Thankful that they weren’t too upset by the lack of cake, you make your way back to your room only to find Jaehyun already there, cake cut into slices. He holds a plate out to you, gesturing for you to sit on the desk beside him. Gratefully, you take the plate and sit down, digging into the cake.

“Oh my god this is delicious.” You moan, savoring in the taste of the fluffy dessert.

“Mmm, I know right? Paris Baguette really knows what they’re doing.” He hums happily in agreement. “You know, two of my students have confessed to me since the museum.”

“Damn, so we’re tied now huh.” You pout jokingly.

“You’re about to be winning again.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You question, turning to face him.

“I know this is supposed to be a competition and everything, but you’re probably going to win anyways—”

“Hey we’re tied right now—”

“Let me finish ok?” You shut up, letting him finish his mini speech. “As I was saying before being so rudely interrupted,” you roll your eyes at that, “We’re not going to be tied anymore because I’m going to confess to you. Or, well, I am confessing to you.”

“What? Are you serious?”

“Oh come on Y/n, it’s obvious we like each other, the whole school has been waiting practically with baited breath for us to get together!”

“No I know all that. I’m just surprised that you’re confessing so early into the year! You were taking this competition so seriously I thought you’d make me be the one to do it.”

“I can’t believe you Y/n.” He scoffs, leaning back on his hands.

“What? A competition’s a competition. Oh well, looks like I’m winning again.” You shrug, turning back to your cake, a teasing grin stuck on your face. Jaehyun sits there for a minute, shocked at your confession. Once you finish your cake, however, Jaehyun gets a brilliant idea. A mischievous smile creeps across his face and you stare at him in mild fear.

“What exactly are you thinking of doi—” You get cut off by Jaehyun shoving the rest of the cake in your face.

“You’re dead Mr. Jung.” Wiping the cake off of your face, you move to wipe it all over his face. But, before you get the chance, Jaehyun places his lips over yours in a deep kiss. Your lips move together in harmony, the kiss slightly sticky from all the cake residue. Eventually, he pulls away, grinning at you with cake crumbs and frosting covering his lips.

“Sweet.” He chuckles, licking his lips. You grab his cheeks with your cake covered hands and smoosh them together.

“Yes,” you laugh, “very.”

#and with that i may never write again #nct #nct au #nct scenario #nct imagine #jung jaehyun #jaehyun #jaehyun imagine #jaehyun scenario #jaehyun au #nct fluff #jaehyun fluff #nct teacher au #jaehyun teacher au

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angrylizardjacket · 6 years

Text

a kind of loneliness {Roger Taylor}

Anon asked: I would totally love a Roger fic where the reader is secretly in love with him, but hides it because she constantly has to see him with other girls. I also imagine that when she tells him, he doesn’t feel that way initially…but gets jealous when she tries to move on with other guys. And then BAM! He has a revelation that he is in love with the reader, shows up in her doorstep in the pouring rain still wondering if she feels the same (which she does) and they have passionate and loving ending!

Anon asked: How about y/n is a photographer for Queen and Roger takes quite the liking to her! And you know bc it’s the 70’s it’s all film and Polaroid photography! 😍 And I vibe like y/n giving him a lesson on how to develop photos and him teaching her drums. OMGG.

A/N: 4027 words. Cha-chas real smooth in with a fic that’s a day late. Despite the prompts it’s a gender neutral reader. Anyways the alternate title for this is ‘it hurts not to love him, it hurts when love fades’ from Falsettos but that was a bit long. Not exactly what either of you wanted but like........ its here now. Hope you like it. it’s been a while since my last roger imagine, this is a bit of angst and pining i don’t know what to technically classify this as tho. also @siriuslymooned 😘

His hair is dark when you first fall in love with him, not especially dark, just darker than the world like to remember, but you’ll recall this detail about him clearly because the sun turns it gold when he’s smiling down at you where you’d made a valiant attempt at a picnic. You’re leaning back on the grass, and you can’t help but grin at him, so unbelievably enamoured by him that it almost hurts. You can’t even remember what the two of you had been talking about when you reach up to tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear, and his eyes - god, you’d never forget the way he looked at you - drifted to your lips.

There’s a moment, a pause, you both know what’s about to happen. You’re breath’s caught in your throat, heart beating hard enough against you’re ribs that you’re afraid it shows. He’s haloed by the light, propped up on his side beside you, asks you why you’re the one taking photos when you’re the beautiful one-

A duck honks hungrily a few feet away, and you burst out laughing. It’s like you can breath again as he looks away from you, turning his attention instead to the intrusive bird. Hand pressed to your mouth, you turn to hide your grin against Roger’s chest as he reaches over you to yell at the creature and begrudgingly toss it the sandwich it had been eyeing.

“Fuckin’ vulture.” He snaps, obviously put out, until he comes back from his annoyance to hear the sound of your laughter. The duck quacks in what you both interpret as some sort of thanks, and that just sets you off again.

“What’d you give him?” You asked, and your eyes shine with amusement when you leaned back to grin at him, and Roger’s wearing that smile that makes your heart melt a little.

In that one moment you wonder how you got here, how your few stints as Queen’s photographer had lead to very possibly, at the very least, hooking up with Roger Taylor. You’d just suggested a picnic to the band because it was a nice day and you could get some nice shots of them outside, but one by one the others had drifted back to the hotel they’d been staying in, and you’d taken a few nice photos of Roger pelting pieces of bread in the general direction of some ducks. But then you’re laying back and looking up at the sky, he’s laying beside you, the two of you talking about whatever shallow fascination passed through your minds at any given moment. So you’re not exactly sure how you’d gotten here, with his hand on your hip to steady himself as he’s propped up on his side beside you, but it gives you cause for hesitation.

You’ve seen him look at girls like that before, have heard him call them beautiful, and he might mean it at the time, but they mean nothing to him. If he has even half a chance at a pretty girl he’ll take it, and you’re no exception, even if you are working with the band on a semi-regular basis.

“You- that was my sandwich!” It’s easier to chase after the bird with half your lunch in it’s mouth than to make the mistake of kissing Roger, no matter how much you wanted to. As you scramble away from him, he seems to read the change in the situation easily, laughing loud and bright, even picking up your camera to catch a shot of you with your arms outstretched to the frantic duck. He doesn’t seem the least bit phased by your implicit rejection, and you can’t help but feel a little bit disappointed; on the list of Roger’s potential conquest, you weren’t special by virtue of seeing him often, or at all, and despite how foolish you think it is, you’re hurt by this fact.

But you still know you’re in far too deep, and can’t forget the way he smiled at you that afternoon.

The first photo you ever took of Queen was blurry as all hell, since the “official” photographer, who you were assistant to at the time, insisted that you were doing it all wrong and tried to grab the camera back from you mid-shot. It would have been nice too, you’d told them to be candid when you’d been given a chance during the photoshoot, told them to just pretend like they were having a nice, normal chat, asked them about what they had planned for the weekend, and right as you snapped the photo, Roger had made an incredibly crude joke and was beaming as the others reacted; John was hiding a grin behind his hand, Freddie had practically fallen out of his chair from laughing, and Brian looked like he’d been winded from surprise.

“You live and learn, maybe next time you’ll do better.” The photographer tells you back in the studio after the photos have developed, with only the barest hint of fake apology before he tosses it into the garbage. You fish it out and manage to finally get a good look at it; it’s out of focus; Freddie’s the worst, just a dark blur where you’ve caught him mid-fall, but you’re pretty sure you can make out both Roger and Brian’s expressions, and you know without even looking that they’re not nearly so happy in any photos the photographer has taken.

You pin the photo to the cork board above your desk at home, along with your other favourite photos, and you don’t think much about the band other than how you regret not getting a clear shot.

His hair is blonde when you finally admit how you feel about him. He’s bleached it since you’d last seen him, though it hasn’t been that long, and you think he’s so beautiful it aches a little.

“What’s got you all hot and bothered?” He plops himself down next to you when the band is taking a lunch break during a rehearsal that you’ve been invited to attend, and you’re the only two in the lobby. “I haven’t seen you like this since-”

“You’ve never seen me hot and bothered,” you inform him, tone clipped looking anywhere but at him because he looks like a fucking angel and it’s not doing your irritating crush any favours. He shrugs, grinning and rolling his eyes, slinging an arm over the back of the sofa behind you.

“Not for a lack of trying,” he smirks, but you’re so fucking tired of this charade and he can’t keep flirting with you like this without knowing the stakes.

“I have feelings for you,” you blurt out, speaking without even considering what his reaction would be, “like probably serious feelings, which I know is stupid, okay, I just-”

“Darling, it’s not stupid,” he pulls you into a side hug and just for the moment, despite knowing what’s coming, you let yourself lean into it. His voice is gentle, as if he’s had a lot of practice giving this sort of speech, “I’m flattered, but,” and at this he did hesitate, looking away for a moment as he considered his words for a moment - perhaps for the first time in his life, you considered, “first, you know I think you’re an absolute stunner, but serious just isn’t where I’m at right now, dear, I’m sorry.”

And you smile, say it’s alright, because it is, it has to be, but then he’s off again when the others are back, and it’s like nothing had ever happened. Nothing changes, and that’s the worst part.

When he sees you admiring Queen’s opening act from side of stage, he wraps you in a hug, same as all the others, but he still has that indescribable effect on you that the others simply don’t.

“It’s so good to see you!” And he sounds like he means it, and like he’s already a bit drunk, and he kisses both your cheeks before the band on stage finishes their song and he’s whirled away to applaud with everyone else, as if he’s already forgotten you.

It doesn’t hurt anymore, not like it once did; you’re a professional, you do your job, you ignore the thousands of screaming fans who just want to get into his pants.

What does hurt is how much he apparently likes you being around him, despite the girls at the after party seeking his attention. He buys you drinks with a smirk - “Make sure you get my good side, love.” - despite the fact that you’ve told him you don’t drink, and sometimes, not often, but once or twice when you’ve gone off to roam the room and take photos of the gathered fans, roadies, and crew members, someone will find you and tell you that he’s looking for you.

“He’s so needy.” you’re tired when the words slip out, to Brian of all people, who just gives a thin smile that is equal parts sympathetic and knowing.

“Isn’t that a cruel irony,” he snorted, taking a seat beside you at the bar instead of head back to whatever it was he’d been doing before he’d been sent to fetch you, “if only all the girls who liked him could realise that.” He snorted, watching as a defensive fluster overcame you; you hadn't exactly wanted your feelings to become public knowledge, especially since they clearly weren't returned.

“I do not- that’s- dude, that’s so unprofessional, I would never-”

“Has he made a move on you yet?” Brian cuts you off and you press your lips into a thin line, taking a moment to snap a few photos of the dancers spinning themselves out on the dancefloor.

“Why are you asking?” After a beat, your frown deepens. “Why are you here?” You snap another photo, but he doesn’t seem bothered, he just hums for a moment before answering.

“Because you’re my friend, and because-”

“Don’t give me a spiel, don’t give me all that crap,” you sighed, and turned your camera on him, the photo you take, which will turn out a little blurry but mostly in focus, catches Brian’s amused smile and raised eyebrows better than most any other photo, “what do you want?”

“Okay, no spiel; I want you, tonight I want to make you smile, and I want what Roger is missing out on.” Despite the situation, the setting, he’s surprisingly sincere, though you appreciate his honest pettiness. After a moment he adds, “and I mean it, you’re my friend and I don’t want that to change.”

In terms of safe ways of coping with your crush on Roger Taylor, sleeping with his bandmate in some ill-guided attempt to maybe make him jealous in a way that you’re almost positive that he won’t care about, is pretty low on the list. Brian, despite this, is warm and secure and he genuinely cares about you having a good time, and it’s easy to breeze past it and remain friends like nothing had happened. But still, it’s painful in ways you hadn’t quite expected.

It’s been a while since you’d woken up in someone’s arms and it hurts when you leave the security they provided. When you’re in the shower, all you can think about is that you feel bad for feeling like you’re leading Brian on, even though you were both clear about the night being a one-time, strings-free deal, and it hurts that some times, without meaning to, all you could think about what Roger despite being with Brian. You leave shoes in hand, sneaking like a teenager and preparing for a walk of shame back to your own hotel room, and what hurts the most is that Roger’s on the other side of Brian’s door, fist raised like he’s about to knock, expression shocked at coming face-to-face with you.

“Oh.” His voice is uncharacteristically soft. You’re not sure what to read into it.

He goes on acting like he’d never seen anything, like you and he are still good friends. That, in retrospect, is infinitely harder than any interaction you would ever have with Brian after this moment.

He likes you because you like him, it’s as simple as that. Part of him knows he’s leading you on the way he keeps you around, smiling a little too mischievously, standing a little too close, even pinching your ass when he’s feeling especially cheeky. In turn, you know you shouldn’t let him get away with it, should tell him to back off, should stop getting yourself into these situations to begin with, but… you can’t. Freddie’s pity stings.

To be unwanted, and yet somehow still needed, is a cruel and unusual punishment for existing in the same space as Roger Meddows Taylor.

He’s still blonde, but his hair is short when you finally stop playing along, when he realises you’re trying to get over him. You remember this moment because you fucking love his short hair, and the first time you see it you just want to run your fingers through it.

“How,” He’s in your studio picking up some photos for the band’s publicist, “do you do this?” He definitely could have sent a lackey to do this, but instead he’s made himself comfortable on the sofa, looking through your portfolio.

“How do I take pictures?” You ask, raising your eyebrow as you double check all the photos from the last promotional shoot the band had done.

“No, I get the point and click aspect; it’s the film part, developing them, it’s always fascinated me.” He says, flipping through the pages, eyes grazing over some of your best work with mild interest. Wasn’t that unfortunately all too familiar, it felt like in the past few years that’s all he regarded you with; the moment you’d stopped paying him complete attention he’d lost interest. Sometimes, like now for instance, he made a point to keep inserting himself into your life, but it was an empty gesture; you don’t talk like you once did. To call yourselves good friends was generous at this point, at least from your perspective.

“It’s taken you this long to ask?” You snorted. When he looks up, his smirk sharp and eyes amused, and there’s a moment when you feel yourself slipping, but you look away quickly, hiding your own amused smile.

“I’ve been a bit busy, dear.” And as if to prove a point, he flips the folio around to show off a photo of himself. Both he and the photo are wearing the same smile, and your own expression is momentarily fond. There's something a little indescribable in his eyes when his gaze meets yours.

“You do look lovely there.” You concede.

Oh God, there it is, that irritating feeling in your chest that just won’t leave, the way his smile always makes your heart warm. Maybe, just maybe he feels something too, you think, because he closes the portfolio and gives you an evaluative stare. He wasn’t one to be quiet for long, it’s a little unnerving.

“You look all nice now, what’s the occasion?” And the compliment alone would have sent your heart racing some years ago, but for now you’re so used to hearing his shallow niceties that it barely phases you. But he’s right, you’re a little dressed up, only having come into the studio for this errand, not expecting Roger himself to show up.

“I’ve got a date,” you admit, and it comes as a surprise when he actually looks a little shocked, “don’t look so surprised.” Your face scrunches reflexively, a little hurt that the idea of you dating would be so shocking to him.

“I- no, good on you, love.” He tries to save himself, but the damage is done, and even so, his heart’s not in it. “Who’s the lucky fella?” He asked, shooting for casual. Unlike with the rest of his friends, at least with interactions like this that you’ve witnessed, his smile, his interest seems forced, and part of you tries to take victory in that, but you realise all you want is to see him smile genuinely. It’s been a while since you’d felt like that. Part of you thinks you should spend more time with him again. Part of you knows that’s a terrible idea.

Your date goes well, but the spark’s not there.

Being lonely is exhausting, which especially when surrounded with people, because you’ve just been trying to feel something for someone else that even holds a candle to the way you feel about him, but it’s not working.

You realise you need to stop timestamping the big moments in your relationship with Roger by the way he wears his hair, because it’s shallow, and you’re trying really hard to not care about what he chooses to do with himself.

But he’s making it very difficult.

Because he’s chosen to show up at your doorstep at like three in the morning, unsurprisingly drunk.

“Don’t exile me to the lounge,” his voice is a whine as he clutches the pillow you throw at him, “please, can I just say what I came here to say?” He asks, and you’re rolling your eyes, heart calcified against years of weathering his somewhat besotted looks with no follow through.

“Absolutely not; sober up and stop being dramatic, you wanker.” You respond, and Roger groans loudly but concedes easily, stomping through your house to his bed for the night in your living room.

“Do you still have feelings for me?” He ambushes you with the question when you come to check if he’s found the blankets okay, and you actually pause.

“What?” It takes a moment for you to recall the moment from your long history with the drummer, but you pick it eventually, and he’s just watching quietly as your face scrunches reflexively. “That was like four years ago, why does it matter now?" Pinching the bridge of your nose you give yourself a long moment to breathe.

"Because I think I made a mistake." That was the last thing you had ever thought you'd hear Roger utter.

"What does that mean? You didn't like me like that back then, you can't chan-"

"Don’t be daft, of course I liked you-”

“Don’t call me daft when you outright rejected me, Roger.” You snap, and that shuts him up fast. “I liked you, and that’s not your fault, okay, I get that-”

“What does that have to do with-”

“I’m trying to say that you don’t have to have feelings for me out of pity or some fucking social obligation;” you cried, hands balling into fists by your side trying and failing to keep your own feelings in check, “you’re drunk, and it’s sweet that I was on your mind or whatever, but this will pass tomorrow; don’t do something you regret.”

“Is that why you never...” Roger actually took the moment to consider his words, looking up at the ceiling with a frown, “is that why we never- because you’d regret it?” There was genuine hurt written across his face; you looked away. “Do you still love me?”

“Love is a very strong word.” You hummed, crossing your arm, still refusing to look anywhere but at him.

“So that’s a no?” His voice is frank, almost artificially so, a tone you knew all too well.

A long silence stretched between the two of you.

You broke with a sigh, “of course I love you, how could I not?” Finally, you make your way to him, moving from the doorframe to sit on the arm of the sofa by his feet.

“You’ve known me for years, Y/N, that’s an easy question to answer.” It’s a surprisingly raw answer, his self awareness catching you off guard. “I love you, I think.” To have him admit that right after a moment of startling self awareness is almost a little disorientating.

“You think?” Voice full of skepticism, you rest a hand on his ankle and he finally meets your gaze.

“No, I know.” And his words are once again met with silence, and yet another deep sigh.

“You’re drunk.” You pull the blanket down to cover his feet and stand, but he’s not going to take that as an answer.

“I love you.”

“Go to sleep.” You can’t handle this right now, can’t handle this. Your heart fucking hurts. His drunken confessions aren’t nearly as endearing as he probably thinks they are.

“Will you listen to me?” He huffs, and the squeak of the sofa is enough to let you know he’s sitting up now, probably looking long suffering or indignant, as if he had any right.

“Not when you’re drunk.” You dimiss quickly.

“I’ve loved you for years, I just-”

“Why didn’t you do anything about it?!” You turned on him, expression fierce, and his own face fell, stepping back in the face of your fury. “You didn’t love me, you loved having someone who loved you without having to be actually emotionally invested, and now, when you think I might be leaving is when you spontaneously decide to catch feelings? Fuck off Roger, I’m sick of being ointment for your fucking ego.” Turning on your heel, you’re about ready to march back to your own room when he calls out to you.

“I think you’re talented,” he speaks clearly, his gaze unwavering, though he looks a little wounded, you make a noise of confusion but he continues, “I think you’re a hard worker, and love, not a lot of people make me laugh like you do. I like that you love me, of course I do, but it’s not why I love you, why I want to always be around you.”

“Shut up-” You mutter through your teeth, heart not in your words, voice weak.

“No, listen to me, damn it I’m being honest and vulnerable here,” he groaned, “listen, I was a dickhead kid who liked living the rockstar life, hell, I still do, but you’re right, okay? You’ve been drifting away for a while, you’re leaving and it gave me a kick in the ass because I- I can’t see my life without you,” he admitted, and you could feel tears welling in your eyes. There was the sound of movement behind you but you didn’t turn around, couldn’t bare to look at him right now, to let him see how much this was effecting you, “and it was easier to pretend like that wasn’t serious and fucking terrifying when you were always around, but I do, I love you, and if I don’t get my shit together, one day you’ll just be gone and I-” he swallowed thickly, “I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I don’t actually have a lot of regrets, and I’m not going to let not telling you I love you be one.”

There’s a light touch on your shoulder, and when you turn, he’s there, eyes wide and bright, surprised to see you crying, and honestly still a little shocked that he’d managed to articulate his feelings so well. He reaches out, his hand cupping your face as his thumb brushes a tear from your cheek.

“If you wake up tomorrow and take it all back-” you sniffle, but he laughs gently, stepping forward, his other hand coming up to frame your face.

“Not going to happen, I told you I mean it.” He said, and finally - finally - you feel years of pining being validated, hope bleeding through your words when you speak them.

“You love me?” You ask gently, and when he smiles, it’s bright and genuine. There’s going to be a serious conversation the following morning, but for now, when he leans in and presses his lips to yours, everything you’d been feeling since you’d practically met him, feels like it’s all been leading to this moment. It feels right. When he pulls back, you’re smiling, soft and bashful, still a little teary but you’re letting yourself enjoy this one moment. He looks so fucking endeared.

“Of course I love you, how could I not?”

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